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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Prompt from @devious-kitten

Steve had a mild interest in DnD as a freshmen because of a cousin or something. The interest was killed by Eddie being mean since Steve is a jock. Post vecna Eddie finds dust covered DnD handbook Steve explains and Eddie faces a still hurt Steve as a results of his biases

((Half written fic, half rambling about how it would go down. Apologies for the formatting. Also I added more angst than the prompt called for hehe))

Steve has always loved sports. This is a well-known fact. He's played on some sort of sports team from the time he was old enough for his parents to be able to sign him up.

A lesser-known fact is that Steve loves fantasy. Or, at least, he used to. On the playground in elementary school, Steve could often be found playing knights and dragons, and it was anyone's guess if he would be a knight or a dragon on any particular day.

The summer between middle and high school, Steve spent with his grandparents from his mother's side, on the farm they'd retired on in Michigan. A month long stay that he'd shared with his cousins, Amber, Robert, and Christopher. Amber and Robert are twins, four years younger than Steve, and Christopher was two years older and infinitely cooler than anyone else Steve knew.

Christopher was on the varsity basketball team at his high school when he was just a sophomore, captain of the JV football team, president of the chess club, and in a games club.

Christopher was everything Steve wanted to be now that he was going to be in high school. Minus the chess club because

It was during that summer, Steve got to indulge in playing make believe for another summer with his younger cousins, without the judgement of people (his father and peers) who thought he was too old for such things. He also got to learn about make believe for older kids, because Christopher played a game called Dungeons and Dragons with his game club the last month of school before summer break and spent many evenings going over what had happened with Steve as a captive audience.

"I wish I'd brought the books," Christopher had whispered to him one night from the bed, peaking over to look down at Steve in his sleeping bag on the floor, "we could have played."

Steve wishes he'd brought the books, too.

At the end of July, Christopher, Amber, and Robert's parents show up to pick them up, five days before Steve's scheduled flight to Indianapolis. It's a sad goodbye because one summer a year isn't enough with his cousins but they live in Washington. Steve's always jealous their parents drive all the way to pick them up, but a little proud he gets to brag about how he's flown alone since he was seven. No one else in his class can brag about that.

His mom picks him up in Indianapolis and they go back to school shopping while there.

A week later, Steve receives a package from Christopher. Inside Steve finds Advanced Dungeons and Dragons books, three of them, and even though Christopher said nothing about advanced, he's sure he can manage. On the inside cover of the players handbook, Christopher has written:

Hey Steve, I think you'd rock playing a dwarf paladin. Let's play next summer? Christopher 1981

He spends the last three weeks of summer vacation reading the player handbook cover to cover and making a character. It's slow going, because letters don't stay where they're supposed to be on the page (that's a problem he's had his whole life, so he's not surprised but he is determined), and he's never been good at math, so getting the stats down on paper isn't easy. He can't decide what he wants to play, so he makes two characters; an elf magic-user and, of course, a dwarf paladin.

(He's a little disappointed you can't be a dragon.)

Steve's never been one to dread the first day of school, but he's never actually looked forward to it, either. It's just been another day.

Until today.

Today is his first day as a high schooler. And the only people who go to the first day are Freshman, except the upper classman that have volunteered to man the booths for school activities for the last hour of the day. It's supposed to help the Freshman get the lay of the land without being overwhelming and Steve's excited for it. He needs to see if Hawkins High has a games club like Christopher's school does.

Here Steve is, that last hour of school. He's already been to the basketball booth, promising to sign up as soon as the season started, and the swim booth because he's got a pool at his house and has been swimming for as long as he can remember and knows he enjoys it. He also stops by the football booth even though he's never played, or cared much, for it. (Maybe he's trying to emulate Christopher, sue him.). So, the final thing is to see if Hawkins High offers a chess club and a game club.

Steve is delighted to see that, though there is no games club, there is a Dungeons and Dragons club! That delight wavers because of the kid manning the booth. His hair is curly and falls just below his ears, with big brown eyes. Steve hates to think it, but he'd be cute if he didn't look like he wanted to stab Steve.

"Yeah, no, keep walking," says the boy, pulling the flier with meeting information on it out from under Steve's hand, where he'd been attempting to read it.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed in confusion. "I was reading that."

"And I said no. Jocks don't play Dungeons and Dragons."

"I could," Steve says, offended. He squints at the name tag sticker slapped diagonally across the way too big jean vest this guy's wearing. E-d-d-i-e. Eddie.

"Have you ever played?"

"Well... no, but-"

"No buts. Mitch let a jock join last year and that was a nightmare. He could barely read the rule book. And with how you were squinting down at the flier, and then my name tag, you're not going to be much better."

Jokes on Eddie, Steve's already read the rule book. Even if it was slowly. "I can read just fine."

"Can you math, then? What's eight plus seven?"

"What?"

"Simple addition. Eight plus seven. What is it?"

Steve knows simple addition. This is fine. It doesn't matter than he's been put on the spot, and that math is hard for the same reason as reading. He can do this. His hand twitches with wanting to pull it up and use it to keep track. He's faster at math when he can do that, but this jerk is mean mugging him and he just knows if he moves his hand, this guy will mock him the rest of the school year.

Eight plus seven. Ok. Make it easier, get to ten. It takes adding two to the eight to get ten. Ok. Take that two away from the seven now. That makes... five! Ok. Ten plus five is-

"Dude, it's fifteen," Eddie snaps.

"I knew that!"

Scoff. "Right. How about seventeen plus six."

Steve can feel his face turning red with embarrassment but he's not going to let this jackass be right. Round up. It takes three to get seventeen to twenty, so take three away from the six-

"23. Point proven. Go. Away. Go play your jock games and leave me- us alone."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, or maybe plead, that he can do this, and that, more importantly, he wants to do this, but laughter cuts through the air and for the first time, Steve notices the audience that has gathered. Three people are laughing at him, and his inability to do mental math, and it makes Steve snap his jaw shut and swallow.

"Mental math isn't that hard, Steve," one of them, Brant, says, as he elbows the guy next to him.

"Thank you!" Eddie says, "that's what I'm saying."

"Whatever, man, like I'd want to play make believe at this age anyway," Steve mutters and rushes away.

If, two weeks later, Steve watches Kyle trip who he now knows is Eddie 'The Freak' Munson in the bathroom, and drag him into a stall for a swirly, well, no he didn't. He briefly thinks of saying something to stop Kyle, but shoves the words down and instead turns on heel and leaves that bathroom just as the sound of flushing and Eddie yelling start. The thick bathroom door does a good job of muffling the noise and if Steve feels any guilt about that, he shoves that down, too.

Besides, Kyle's the captain of the basketball team and if Steve wants a chance to be on that team, he can't stay anything. It's a well-known fact that Steve likes sports, after all. He's going to stick to that. Screw Eddie Munson and his Dungeons and Dragons club.

Steve will get to play Dungeons and Dragons with Christopher next summer.

Except, halfway through the school year, Steve and his parents quickly board a plane bound for Washington. Turns out being as perfect as Christopher was is hard. Overwhelming.

They arrive the day before the funeral, and fly out right after it. Steve barely has time to mourn before they're shuffling him back to school that Monday.

Christopher died, and with him, so does Steve's desire to be just like him. He quits the football team. He keeps basketball because he does like it, even without Christopher's influence. He can't bring himself to get rid of the Dungeons and Dragons books, but he can't look at them, either. They end up in the downstairs hall closet, forgotten on the shelf.

So, years later, after rising to the top of the food chain (no one was ever going to embarrass him like Eddie Munson had again) and then falling to the bottom (who cares about high school popularity when interdimensional monsters exist) and of course, the years of fighting against said interdimensional monsters before ending it all in spring of '86, Steve finds himself, unwillingly, agreeing to host Hellfire since the school banned the club following the events of spring break.

Damn Dustin Henderson. Steve usually has the backbone to say no but Dustin had to play up 'getting a chance to finally just be kids' and fuck, how was Steve going to say no to that? Despite how quickly his own desire to be a freshman playing Dungeons and Dragon had been squashed, he can't be the one to ruin this for them.

"Thanks for hosting, man," Eddie says when Steve lets him in. He's an hour early but had asked if that was okay. Apparently the dungeon master has a lot of prep to do? Not that Steve would know.

"Sure," Steve says, dismissively, because while Eddie and he went through hell together, and Steve carried his sorry ass out of the Upside Down, Steve can't quite let his guard down around him.

It's funny. In the Upside Down, Eddie had made a point to tell him he's changed, is a 'good dude' now. So, what's funny is how much Eddie is exactly the same person he was five years ago. He was an ass to Steve five years ago, and as far as Steve is concerned, was also an ass to Lucas for wanting to play basketball just this year.

He swears to God, if he hears one negative thing about Lucas tonight, he's punching Eddie unconscious, no matter what the rest of Hellfire will do or say about it.

Eddie's been in his dining room for maybe five minutes before he finds Steve in the living room. Steve's got a movie playing but he couldn't tell you which one. He's not really watching it.

"Do you got a table cloth for that big table? Jeff's got a set of metal dice and I'd feel like a real ass if we scratched it on accident."

Steve takes a deep breath before answering. He hates that Eddie is considerate like this, has been since spring break if Steve's being honest, but he doesn't want to see Eddie's good qualities. So, he waves in the direction of the closet. "Yeah. There should be some in the hall closet there. Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He twists on the couch to watch Eddie cross the room to the closet door, listens as the door creaks opens, hears the quiet, pleased noise Eddie lets out when his eyes land on the stack of table clothes. Steve continues to watch as Eddie just grabs the whole stack and yanks them off the top shelf.

Which means his watching as the stack of non-fabric objects, which must have been half atop the table clothes, also tumble out of the closet, bouncing off various parts of Eddie. It's a bunch of miscellaneous items. However, Steve realizes with horror, the book that bounces off Eddie's head is his copy of the Monster Manual. Eddie has stepped back in surprise (and possibly pain), so the Dungeon Master Guide and the Players Handbook bounce off his torso and leg before landing on the ground.

"Fuck," Eddie curses, before he stares down at what just assaulted him. Steve just stares at Eddie, watching as he slowly comes to comprehend what he's seeing. He watches as Eddie bends down and grabs the Player Handbook, the last thing to fall, from a top the pile. "What the-"

Steve stands, suddenly defensive, but doesn't actually say anything or move closer. He just watches as Eddie examines the book, flipping it from front to back in his hand like the title will change if he does that enough times.

Then, Eddie turns to him, bewildered. "Present for one of the kids? Thought they all had their own copies."

"No."

Eddie flips the book open. Reads the words written in there so many years ago. "Who's Christopher? Wait. 1981? You were playing D&D in 1981?"

"None of your business, and no," Steve says, now kicking into action, stomping up to Eddie and snatching the book from his hands.

Eddie hold his hands up in defense before his eyes turn mischievous. The same glint in them now that was there when Eddie'd leaned into this space in the RV and called him big boy. "Are you lying to me, Stevie? You've played before, haven't you?"

It makes Steve's blood boil. "No. I haven't played!"

"Alright. You could now, you know," Eddie says. And it's the way he says it, all nonchalant and like he's trying to be coy about it- it tips something over inside Steve. A bottle that held his humiliation and hurt from all those years ago.

"Oh, now I'm good enough for D&D? Now I can join? Aren't I too much of a jock for you!?"

"Whoa, what's with the hostility-"

"What's eight plus seven, Eddie!?" Steve snaps. His memory might be shit these days, with all the concussions, but the unfortunate part about Steve is that he always seems to remember the bad. And he remembers Freshman First Day like yesterday. "No? How about seventeen plus six? Come on, mental math isn't hard. Or don't you remember? I'm just a stupid jock too slow on the uptake, or no, what was it you said? It'll be a nightmare to play with me, 'cause I might be barely able to read the rules?"

He watches as Eddie's face morphs from confusion, to understanding and horror. "Holy shit, Steve. That was you- you wanted to join Hellfire-"

"Yeah, and you made it pretty fuckin' clear I didn't belong in it."

"I'm sorry man. I shouldn't have- if I'd known you, I never would have-"

"That's the problem, Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving the book in front of him. "You didn't know me. You looked at me and decided for me that I was going to be a jock and nothing else and then humiliated me in front of other people! You didn't even bother to try to know me. I spent three weeks reading this stupid book cover to cover because I knew I was shit at reading and I still wanted to try anyway."

He sees Eddie puffing up in anger. "Well, I wasn't exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even!"

"Yeah, because I was a dumb, hurt kid who decided that it was better to hurt than be hurt. As if you weren't exactly the same that day, lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math. Fuck you, Munson!" Steve walks away, not hearing anything Eddie shouts after him as he sprints up the stairs and shuts himself in his room.

Steve knows he was a dick in high school, and it's not Eddie's fault he was a dick. Steve made choices he's not proud of and no one forced those choice on him. But Eddie doesn't get to throw that back in his face. Not when Eddie made him feel humiliated and stupid on the first goddamn day of high school, long before Steve became mean himself.

#pre-steddie #my fic #prompt #sophomore eddie is a jerk #but only because he thinks steves gonna be a jerk first so hes gotta beat him to it #also steves very mean to eddie in his thoughts but its only his thoughts #tw: minor character death #its an oc tho #tw: suicide implied but not stated

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caraphernellie · 27 days

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MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE.

tiny, silly, cute blurb today because i'm thinking fluffy!!! and fluffy in particular = cats! i love cats and ik i'm always talking about cats so… in the need to quell my desperation right now, i'm going to write about it instead. because i keep looking at cat rescue pages and crying about all those precious babies.

now it's a little hard to picture ellie having a dog because, erm… but moving away from that– i think she's one of those people who prefers dogs simply because they're playful and have such wholesome faces. who wouldn't falter over a puppy's virtuous little smile, falling over feet to give them some head pats? but imagine her reaction when you tell her you want to rescue a cat. imagine the vulgarity in her response every time you'd show her pictures upon pictures of sad babies with no homes – just a snap back to reality. "yeah, babe, s'cute, but probably got ringworm or some shit."

and yeah, sure, all of your arguments are sound, your list of pros outway the cons, but cats are so lame. lame is what she said.

and lame is what she is, because the furry creature does win her heart fairly quickly. almost as soon as you showed her the picture of this poor unnamed cat without a family, desperate tears in your eyes just waiting to shed at her denial, she folded.

on one condition.

"if we get the cat, i wanna name him."

so much for 'not wanting a cat', it was obvious from the start that your new baby had dug his way into ellie and tugged at the heartstrings. so that was how rover became yours– never trust your girl not to name something unrelated to her interests – but rover was a cute and fitting name overall, if only a tad nerdy due to her ongoing obsession with space and the long lost dream of being an astronaut.

but there seems to be such a common phenomenon when it comes to cats. they know exactly who doesn't like them, and they make it their mission to insert themselves every which way like stubborn bastards. rover is a smart little man, and he was aware quickly of how awkward ellie got when he'd sit on you or knead on you. it progressed into him treading into the bedroom at five o'clock sharp every morning to wake his mothers up, pushing his way between you and ellie to enjoy the warmth of your cuddles.

from that point, he started getting bolder, jumping onto ellie's lap when she was always busy. he'd nuzzle up against the controller while she's gaming and she'd scoff quietly, clumsily moving to see the screen over his body. then his tail would swipe her across the nose and she'd groan, "you're a little dick."

even then– the words are coated in affection, softly spoken and accompanied by her pausing of the game to rub her hand over his sandy coloured fur.

there's also many, many times in which he appealed to her in humour. it can be utterly amusing at the least and hilarious at most when a feline is taken over by the zoomies. watching the usually collected and calm cat sprint at top speeds and leap dangerously across the room never failed in its manner to bring ellie to laughter.

so yeah, there's a growing attachment to rover bubbling under ellie's surface, and she's never really sure what to do about it. admit that she was wrong about hating cats? she admits so with her every action, making a stop at the store on her way home from work to bring a new cat toy or bag of treats she's desperate to give him. maybe it's in the way she lets him settle on her lap and feels a rush of warmth and love. maybe it's that her lock screen is now a picture of you carrying the cat over your shoulder like a newborn.

photomode creds to @/seraqhite on pinterest!!

#𖤐 ── petalrambling.#ellie williams x reader #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #lesbian #ellie williams fluff #ellie x reader fluff

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lonely-cowboy · 9 months

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chasing rainbows

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: you recently learned that connor has only ever seen the world in one color. gutted at the thought of such a colorless world, you decide to help him see the beauty of the world. only he doesn't care about the world. he only cares about you.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: nothing major, but lowkey a mess bc this is my first longer-ish fic, reader is really embracing her y/n moment, connor is so ooc it's kinda insane but i love him so whatever, they're both really confused about their feelings until they're suddenly not

author's note: i'm replaying dbh as one does bc i was sad and missed connor AND I'M LITERALLY FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE THIS PLAYTHROUGH?? my first playthrough was so nice and sweet and silly so now i'm trying to get other endings BUT I'M NOT STRONG ENOUGH FOR ALL THE EMOTIONAL DAMAGE?? anyway, my solution (as always) was to write happy connor and some grumpy hank yay! yes i did spend the first 1k words talking about literal colors, ignore that

masterlist ⟡ requests

Work was never the place to do work. That was something you learned from Hank after working under him for years.

Sitting at your desk that was situated across from Hank and Connor, you decided to ignore your terminal and the case report it displayed. You’d get to it eventually. Eventually. Besides, you were confident that you would be able to finish it relatively quickly.

Instead, you were tiredly flipping through a book of color swatches. Your gaze flitted across endless pages, darting from color to color as you searched for something eye-catching. In your recent efforts to make your apartment feel more homely, you decided it was time to add an accent wall, you just needed the right color. Obviously, the precinct was the best place to be color searching.

By the time you reached the end of the swatch booklet, you had only found two colors that interested you. At least then it would be easier to make a decision. You eyed the olive and plum swatches like you would a homicide suspect, trying your best to picture them in your apartment. You pursed your lips in thought, staring at the colors for so long that you could’ve sworn you were going cross-eyed.

“Detective?” Connor called, your eyes snapping to meet his. “Are you alright?”

“Actually, no, I’m not,” you answered with an exaggerated sigh, trying to sound as hopeless as possible. “I’m having quite the dilemma.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked.

The sincerity in his voice made your heart melt. He always showed such care for you. Sometimes you wondered if it was just another part of his social programming, but somehow, you knew it wasn’t. Connor genuinely did care about you, even when it was just your inability to pick a paint color. You almost felt bad for teasing him. Almost.

“I just can’t for the life of me decide on a paint color,” you said, glancing up at him with that shit-eating grin he was unfortunate to know so well.

Connor’s pleasant smile collapsed into a disappointed frown once he realized he had succumbed to your teasing.

“Saw that coming from a mile away,” Hank grumbled.

“You can help too, Lieutenant!” you said in an excessively cheerful tone, just to annoy Hank. “It’s not like you’re doing anything important.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you, kid” Hank sighed, turning his chair to face you fully. Work was never the place to do work.

With both Connor and Hank focused on you, you slid the two color swatches across your desk. Hank leaned forward with mild interest, nodding his head to himself as he considered both choices. Connor mimicked Hank, leaning forward and furrowing his brows at the sight of the swatches.

After a long moment of deliberation, Hank finally said, “Green.”

You nodded in approval as Connor looked at Hank with what could only be described as pure confusion. He then turned back to the colors before looking at you with an unsettled expression.

“I don’t understand,” Connor murmured. “These colors are the same.”

You and Hank stared at Connor in bewilderment. Maybe you could understand it if the colors were different shades of the same color and androids just had a poor sense of color differentiation. But these swatches weren’t even remotely close in color. There was nothing similar about them at all.

You and Hank exchanged a look of confusion. Maybe this was Connor’s attempt at a joke. No, he had made jokes before, and they were genuinely funny. Especially the ones that poked fun at Hank.

“Connor,” you started. “What do you mean?”

“They’re the same,” Connor repeated with a shrug, looking between you and Hank like he didn’t understand what he was missing. And he obviously didn’t understand.

“One is olive, one is plum,” you said.

“Green and purple,” Hank offered rather unhelpfully.

Connor only shrugged again, still unable to differentiate the two.

“Does anything look different than normal?” you questioned.

“No,” Connor replied simply.

Was it possible for androids to be colorblind? The idea baffled you. The only way Connor could be colorblind was if he was programmed to be that way. Why would he be programmed to not see color?

“Can you… I don’t know… describe what things look like to you?” you asked unsurely. Was that too abstract of a thought for an android? It was already too abstract for you. “Does everything look the same color?”

Connor considered your question, eyes narrowed as he glanced around the precinct. Hank looked at you like you were crazy for wanting to get to the root of this. Maybe you were.

“I… I suppose it all appears relatively similar,” Connor said with equal uncertainty.

You frowned at that. The world must have seemed so… well, sad to Connor. You hated the thought of his world being limited to a single color. He deserved to see the world for what it really was. He deserved so much… If you could at least give him this one thing, you would be satisfied.

“Do you want to change that?” you proposed.

“I admit, I would be curious,” Connor replied.

Immediately, you jumped up from your desk chair and started putting your coat on. Connor took that as a sign to do the same, rising from his chair to stand beside you.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Hank interjected. “Where do you two think you’re going?”

“To help Connor, obviously,” you replied with a bratty eye roll.

“That has nothing to do with work, kid, sit down,” Hank retorted, preferring that the two of you stayed with him so that he didn’t have to suffer alone.

“This has everything to do with work,” you countered like the typical asshole Hank knew you as. “Don’t you realize all the ways this probably inhibits Connor’s work? I mean, picture a typical crime scene. There are probably so many details he’s missing because he can’t fucking see color!”

“Actually,” Connor remarked. “I speculate that my limited color sensory was included in an effort to keep me focused on my investigations and avoid any distractions–”

“Connor,” you intervened, turning to give him a stern look.

“Yes, Detective?”

“Shut up.”

Immediately, Connor sealed his lips shut and pressed them into a thin line. You adored it when he listened to you.

You turned your attention back to Hank, flashing that brilliant smile that told him you weren’t going to listen to a single fucking thing he said. He sighed grumpily at the sight of it, turning back to his desk with a shake of his head.

In the absence of any other objections, you grabbed Connor’s hand and led him out of the precinct. You wondered if he could see the vibrant blush that coated your cheeks at the intimate contact. You hoped not.

He did.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Are you sure about this?” you questioned hesitantly.

In the middle of your living room, you stood in front of Connor with his new occipital unit in hand. You held it gingerly as if the slightest touch would break it. Although it was a lot easier to purchase biocomponents than you had expected. If it were to break, you would only have to walk three or so blocks to buy a new one.

You looked at Connor worriedly while he stood patiently. You were far, far from any kind of engineer. You had absolutely zero experience when it came to replacing android biocomponents. No matter how many times Connor reassured you, you still stressed at the thought of making a mistake. He promised it was easy, but how could changing biocomponents be anywhere close to easy?

“You can do it, I promise,” Connor murmured encouragingly.

His hand came up to encircle your wrist, tugging your hand forward gently. Your cheeks heated at the contact, making you aware of just how close the two of you were. You glanced away bashfully as you were overwhelmed by butterflies. When you returned your attention to Connor, you watched in awe as the skin around his right eye peeled away, revealing the natural white plastic. Connor’s eyes flicked across your face nervously, worried that you might be disturbed. But to you, it was like seeing a new and vulnerable side to Connor, one that you very much enjoyed.

As you reached for his current occipital unit, you froze with your brows furrowed. Your apartment was far from an interesting sight. There wasn’t much to look at, your apartment still lacking a homely feeling. Damnit, you really needed that accent wall.

“Come on,” you said without explanation.

You moved to leave your apartment after gently placing the two new occipital units into your bag. Slugging it over your shoulder, you waited at the door for Connor to follow. Connor stared after you, the white plastic disappearing.

“Come on,” you repeated, gesturing for him to follow.

Connor followed without a second thought. God, it really was so endearing when he listened.

You led Connor out of your apartment building and across the street to the nearby park. You wandered aimlessly for what felt like hours, trying to find the most scenic view for Connor to enjoy as his first sight.

At last, you settled on a bench situated in front of a little pond. Tall, stooping trees crowded the pond with just enough space between their branches to see the bright sky above. You were glad to be enjoying this moment in the fall when the leaves were the perfect shades of orange.

You stood with your hands on your hips, eyeing the view with a skeptical glint. Connor would be able to see a good range of colors from here. This place would do just fine.

Pulling Connor along, you sat him down on the bench by lightly pressing on his shoulders. Once he was seated with his hands neatly placed along his thighs, you reached for the first occipital unit from your bag.

“Okay,” you said with a determined huff. “Much better view, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see it very well,” Connor replied cheekily.

You couldn’t help but smile at that, rolling your eyes at Connor’s teasing. This only meant he had been spending a concerning amount of time around you and Hank. When you looked back at him, you exhaled slowly, “Ready?”

Connor nodded once, revealing the white plastic of his right eye once again. Before pulling it out, you reached forward and pressed a soft hand overtop Connor’s eyes, silently reminding him to keep his eyes closed until you said otherwise. When you pulled your hand away, you were pleased to find that his eyes remained closed.

Your fingertips then pressed against the plastic of Connor’s occipital unit. It popped out easily, allowing you to pull it out slowly and with ease, just as Connor had promised. It was jarring to see him without an eye. Or rather without a whole chunk of his face. You worried you might still mess up, leaving him without half of his face.

But when you pressed the new occipital unit forward, you found that it was just as easy as pulling the old one out. It took a moment to adjust, but the new part quickly shifted to match Connor’s appearance, his freckled skin melting over it and the doe-like shape of his eyes returning. That made you sigh with relief. You just hoped they were still the same beautiful brown you found yourself constantly lost in.

You then did the same with his other eye, quietly applauding yourself for not making a single mistake.

With his occipital units in place, you rounded the bench to stand behind Connor whose eyes remained closed obediently. Standing behind him, you placed your hands over his eyes once again, a giddy smile adorning your lips.

“You ready?” you asked, unable to contain your excitement.

“I think so,” Connor said hesitantly.

“Yeah, you’re ready,” you decided.

Slowly, you pulled your hands away, studying Connor with a sweet smile. You expected him to enjoy the view in silence, looking at every single thing he possibly could. But you were surprised to find that he barely even regarded the view. Instead, he immediately turned to look at you from over his shoulder.

With a tentative hand, he reached out for your hand that rested on the bench’s back. He pulled you gently around the bench so that you stood in front of him. His hand still held your limp hand as he stood to face you. He looked down at you with a small but warm smile, eyes exploring every inch of your face.

The unexpected attention had your heart racing, a nervous heat spreading throughout your body. You clenched your jaw tightly, a jumble of confusing and unwanted emotions consuming your entirety. Not wanting to say anything stupid to ruin… whatever this moment was, you clamped your mouth shut. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander, exploring Connor’s features the same way he did yours.

Connor’s warm touch left your hand, making you frown ever so slightly. But you were immediately comforted as he placed both hands on your cheeks. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles along your cheekbones like they had a mind of their own, relaxing your clenched jaw. His eyes locked with yours, never once blinking in fear that he would miss something if he did.

You practically forgot how to speak. You forgot how to do everything. It was a hassle to recall how you were even supposed to breathe. The only thing you could do was stare at Connor with a dreamy glimmer in your eyes.

“Your eyes are really pretty,” Connor mumbled.

You swallowed timidly before speaking, “Thank you.”

“You’re…” Connor began before his LED circled red.

Your gaze flickered to his LED, watching intently as it continued to flash red. That was a poor move on your part. Having broken the intense eye contact, Connor glanced away from you, looking straight ahead and dropping his hands from your cheeks like he suddenly awoke from a trance. Focused on the horizon, Connor’s LED spiraled yellow several times before returning to its typical blue.

His sudden change in attitude only added to your confusion of emotions. You took a pained step back, eyes falling to the ground.

“I didn’t expect the leaves to be this color,” Connor commented casually.

You cleared your throat and turned your back to Connor to focus on the leaves. You didn’t want him to see your embarrassed flush, though you were sure he already did.

“They’re not always this color,” you muttered. “Only in the fall. In the warmer months, they’re green.”

You caught a glimpse of Connor tilting his head, his nose scrunched with intrigue. He tried to visualize what that would look like, but having only seen one color since his creation, he didn’t seem to understand.

“Green like… like the grass,” you clarified, pointing to an open patch of grass.

“I’d like to see that. Perhaps you can bring me back here in the spring,” Connor hummed. When you didn’t say anything, he continued. “Are there other colors to see?”

“So many more,” you answered, flashing Connor a small (and slightly awkward) smile.

Connor trailed along beside you as you strolled through the park. Still too embarrassed to look at him, you also took the opportunity to admire the beauty of the park’s striking colors. You were ignorant to the way Connor watched you contently out of the corner of his eye. Of all the wonderfully colorful sights, you were by far his favorite. You were the only thing he could look at.

“Which one is your favorite?” Connor asked as you slowed your walk, having walked the entirety of the park. “Color, I mean.”

You stopped to consider his question, looking around at the abundance of colors. They were all so beautiful in their own ways that it was difficult to choose. But then your eyes landed on Connor, and it seemed so clear.

“Blue,” you replied definitively.

You felt foolish for your choice, but you couldn’t help that there was some truth to it. Blue had always been a pleasant color, but after knowing Connor, it took on a different meaning. When Connor’s LED was blue, it indicated he was happy. Or at least satisfied. You liked to see him when he was happy. It eased your mind knowing he was content. Because of him, it was now a color you associated with joy.

Though you didn’t say anything, you looked away flustered, wondering if Connor could somehow read your mind. You wouldn’t be at all surprised if he could.

“Do you have a favorite?” you inquired quickly.

Connor pursed his lips, mimicking you as he looked around the park. His head then snapped down to look at you, eyes immediately finding yours. He cocked his head curiously the way he always did. The way that made you so weak you could barely stand.

“What color are your eyes?” Connor wondered.

Your eyes widened, eyebrows arched as if you had misheard him. But you knew you hadn’t.

The way he spoke so nonchalantly drove you insane. How could he be so casual about something like this? Did he know what he was doing to you? Was he doing it on purpose? What did any of this mean? Was there any chance at all that he could care for you the same way you did him?

“Uh…,” you mumbled, stuttering out your eye color.

Connor nodded thoughtfully at your answer, his charming eyes still latched onto yours.

“Then that’s what I would say,” said Connor. “Your eyes are my favorite.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, clueless as to how on earth you were supposed to respond to that.

The corners of Connor’s lips quirked into an affectionate smile. He arched his brows at you like he expected something more than just oh.

Your mind was racing for anything to say. Were you just supposed to ignore Connor’s loving words that felt far too much like a subtle confession? Were you supposed to confront it head-on? Neither of those options sounded good.

“Thanks,” you whispered. “I like them too.”

As you cursed yourself endlessly for saying the stupidest fucking thing to come to mind, Connor’s grin widened. A quiet laugh escaped his lips, one that you didn’t hear through the blaring alarms screaming “why are you such an idiot?” in your head.

“That was stupid,” you groaned, deciding it was better to admit it than ignore it. “But… thank you. You… you have pretty eyes too.”

“Thank you, Detective,” Connor said cheerfully.

You moved to continue walking with Connor close at your side. Maybe you were crazy (there was always a good chance of that), but you could’ve sworn he was standing considerably closer than before. Your arm swung at your side, his arm brushing against yours in the slightest. It didn’t matter how insignificant that touch was, it meant something to you. Maybe it meant something to Connor too.

You had been walking in complete silence until Connor spoke, his words making you trip and fumble and scream and cry and scream and die a little.

“You’re pretty to look at. All of you, not just your eyes,” he said, shooting you an adorably attractive wink for emphasis.

You stopped dead in your tracks, Connor trailing ahead until he noticed you were no longer beside him. You stared at him with a far too serious expression, one that made him doubt his words. How could he be so casual about something so serious? Did he actually feel this way, or was it all a heartless prank?

“Your words are really fucking with me, Connor, you know that?” you said.

“I know,” Connor nodded with a cocky edge. God, he really was spending way too much time with you and Hank to be this snarky.. “Your heart has been racing the entire time we’ve been together.”

“So you’re purposefully torturing me?”

“I wouldn’t consider this torture. But, yes. I suppose I’ve been… holding this over you.”

“Well, stop that!”

Connor flashed you a cheeky grin as he approached you again. His hands moved to cup your reddened cheeks, warming them with his soft touch.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t do this to you,” Connor said fondly. “Not when you’ve shown me how beautiful the world is… How beautiful you are.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, trying to hide the smile that crept along your lips.

“You’ve told me before that I’m terrible at shutting up, I don’t see why I should start now.”

You and Connor wore matching smirks as you tried to best the other, subconsciously moving closer to each other.

“Oh, so you don’t want to shut up and kiss me?” you parried.

“When did those words ever leave my mouth?”

“When did you get so cocky?”

“When I realized I could have you.”

You had nothing to say after that. No witty remark or snide comment. All you could offer was a gentle smile.

Connor leaned forward, his nose brushing against yours. He was so close that you could feel his breath– so real for an android– against your lips.

“Pretty smile too,” he murmured, his lips grazing yours.

“It’d look even prettier if you actually kissed me,” you whispered.

Connor knew he couldn’t win this battle of wits. He honorably accepted his loss, knowing it was the only way to kiss you. You beamed into his kiss, proud of yourself for being so stubborn. That was quickly lost on you when you felt the softness of Connor’s lips. You indulged in his touch, leaning forward against his chest to feel as much of him as possible.

Connor pulled away sooner than you would have liked, resting his forehead against yours. A breath of a laugh escaped his lips when he saw that desperate glint in your eyes. He pulled back to look you in the eye after pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. His thumb brushed under your eye, lost in the color he loved so dearly.

“You’ll always be my favorite sight.”

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800

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courtforshort15 · 2 years

Text

Green is the Color

Pairing: Matt Murdock x FemReader

Word Count: 7,200

Summary: Karen Page looks flawless next to Matt in a way that you don’t. Insecurities and jealousies were bound to pop up at some point.

Trigger warnings: None. Just some angst with a happy ending.

Masterlist

You're jealous of Karen.

Beautiful, smart, sweet Karen who has never been anything but kind to you. Leggy, slender, blonde Karen who catches eyes effortlessly wherever she goes. Determined, self-sacrificing, truth-seeking Karen who seems genuinely interested in what you have to say, who seems honestly happy to see you whenever you join them out as a group.

And though you're the one who sleeps in Matt's bed more often than not, though you're the one he whispers soft, sweet things to while he holds your hand as you walk home, though you're the one he calls when he's hurt or happy or needing you with him, you can't help but be jealous of her.

They look flawless together. She's light where he is dark. She is petite in everything but height, and he is made of muscle and broad shoulders. She is sweet and open where he is charming and dangerous when you truly look at him.

They are beautiful, standing together laughing loudly, and you are not the only one who notices.

"God, some people have all the luck, don't they?" A woman next to you at the bar says to her friend. It’s your turn to buy the drinks for the group, and you're waiting patiently as Josie helps another patron. The conversation catches your ear, and you're not exactly surprised when you notice they're talking about Matt and Karen. It's not the first time you've heard something of this sort.

"They'd have such beautiful babies," the other woman replies, and the sound of her voice and the words being said pierces into your skin. "They look so good together it almost hurts. I hate them."

The women gather their drinks with shared laughter and walk away, leaving you to yourself while you wait on Josie. Your cheeks burn in something akin to shame and sadness, the realization that you'll never look as good next to him as Karen does. And though Matt has told you time and time again how much he loves you, it's not the first shred of doubt you've felt.

Hearing someone else echo the things that have lived inside your heart for so long drives a sharp blade into your chest, and you struggle as you work to maintain your breathing, knowing Matt will pick up on the irregularity. You're in a crowded bar and Matt is a few drinks in, so you think you're safe at your current distance away, but the second you join the group, he'll be able to tell that something is off if you don't force yourself to calm down.

With a fake grin that pulls sharply at the corners of your suddenly dry mouth, you thank Josie when she sets your drinks in front of you, and you slowly make your way back over to them where they're playing a game of pool. You set the drinks on the table next to them, and Foggy immediately dives into the beer you've brought over.

Karen thanks you for her drink with a smile, and Matt squeezes your hand in appreciation before he plays the part of an ordinary blind man and pretends to be awful at the game. It's all in good fun for him, though you all know he could whip everyone's ass, and he gasps in fake shock whenever he sinks a ball intentionally that he pretends is unintentional for the benefit of whatever bystander may be nearby.

Matt says something that makes Karen laugh, and she places a hand on his shoulder as he smiles. Matt is your boyfriend, the man you'd gladly spend the rest of your life with, but you suddenly feel like an intruder in your own relationship.

With a grimace you hope no one notices, you toss your drink back, setting the glass loudly back on to the table.

"I think I'm going to call it a night," you tell the group, already turning to grab your purse. Immediately they all protest, asking you to stay for another game, or at least another round of drinks. You try to make the smile on your face look as warm and friendly as it always is, but you know you fail on some level. But in everyone's inebriated state, they all take it as completely genuine.

"Alright, sweetheart," Matt says easily, placing his cue stick in the rack, turning to grab his suit jacket from where it's been tossed over one of the chairs. "We can leave. Are you staying with me tonight? Or do you want me to come over to your place?"

"No, it's totally fine," you object instantly, already taking a few steps away in an effort to distance yourself. "You should stay and have fun."

He waves your protest away with a smile. "We’ve been here for a while already. We can head out.”

You let out a laugh that surprisingly doesn’t sound nearly as fake as it feels. “You guys won a big case today. You deserve to stay out and celebrate.”

“She’s right, Matt!” Foggy calls out from the other side of the table before he takes a long sip of his beer. “We deserve all the alcohol that Josie can provide us with tonight. That case was a nightmare.”

Your laugh is a little more genuine this time, eyeing the way Foggy sways when he puts his beer down. Karen isn’t faring much better, if the flush on her cheeks is anything to go by. “Stay, Matt. I’ll be okay getting home.”

The easy smile has left his face, and he makes his way over to you. You stay rooted to the spot, knowing that rejecting his advancements would tip him off to the fact that something is wrong. There's also the factor that you hate denying him any sort of affection he needs to give or take from you, so you stand still and wait for him. When he’s in front of you, he reaches a hand up and pushes a piece of hair behind your ear, rubbing a finger over your cheekbone with the movement.

“Are you alright?” He asks quietly, his voice meant for only your ears. “I can at least walk you home if you want.”

You turn your head to press a light kiss to the inside of his wrist, unable to deny yourself the warmth that his closeness brings you. “I’m just tired, and I think my stomach is a little off.” This close to you, he should be able to tell a lie from the truth, but the words that leave your mouth are honest enough. You’re tired of feeling inadequate, and your stomach is reeling with the thought of other people seeing what you see when you look at Matt and Karen.

The excuse you’ve given him is completely true, he just doesn’t know the reasons behind them.

“Then I should definitely–”

Smiling slightly, you shake your head. “I’ll take a cab home. I want you to stay with your friends and have a good time. You earned it."

Matt sighs and reluctantly agrees to let you leave without him, but not before pulling you in close and placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I’ll call you later, alright? If you’re still up, I’ll come over when I’m done tonight.”

“That works,” you say with a small shrug. A small smile slides across his face, and he pulls you in one more time to press his mouth to yours, before he takes a step back and turns to face his friends. You send Foggy and Karen a quick wave and another false smile, before making your way to the door.

You don’t miss the way the two women from before not-so subtly eye you up and down with their eyebrows raised, no doubt finding you lacking for a beautiful man such as Matt, especially when compared to the gorgeous woman that is one Karen Page.

Your cheeks burn again, but you push past the women without a word.

When you’re all settled in bed, you curl your knees up to your chest, yanking your heavy blankets over you in an effort to keep yourself in and the rest of the world out. A few tears cloud your vision, but you squeeze your eyes tightly shut to keep them from slipping out. If Matt were to stop by, he’d smell the salt of the tears, and nothing would stop him from getting an answer out of you for why you were upset.

He’d know if you were lying, no longer distracted by his friends and the loud noise of the bar, and you’d be unable to persuade him to let it go. Feelings would tumble from your mouth unchecked, and he’d either be angry or hurt at your accusations.

…or worse, he’d admit that he feels the way about Karen that the rest of the world has decided he should.

In order to keep that from happening, you turn your phone on do not disturb in an effort to make sure you’re not woken up by his call, hopefully keeping him away for the night if he decides not to disturb your sleep.

You ignore the way your heart twists painfully in your chest.

****************

“That looks awful, Foggy,” you tell him as you step into the office of Nelson, Murdock & Page a month later, eyeing the way his face is peeling from an awful sunburn he’d gotten on a trip to Florida to visit his parents. “Do you need me to go and get some aloe for you?”

Foggy laughs, but immediately winces as the expression on his face pulls at the skin that already looks extremely painful. “I’ve got some in my drawer,” he says, motioning to the bottom part of his desk. “I’ve been told to reapply several times during the day. Thank God I don’t have any clients coming in today. I'll just be here all day working through some case items with Matt.”

“That’s good at least,” you say, walking forward and placing a sandwich on Foggy’s desk before taking a seat in one of their lobby chairs, waiting for Matt to arrive so that you can have lunch with him in his office. You’d picked up sandwiches from his favorite deli, including one for Foggy, knowing Matt won’t have time to go out and meet up with you somewhere today.

“Thanks for bringing this, by the way,” Foggy says with the biggest smile he can offer with the way the skin has tightened on his face. “Though, I’m not quite sure how I’m going to open my mouth wide enough to eat this.”

You send him a sympathetic look. “I can’t imagine. It looks super uncomfortable.”

Foggy snorts. “If I can deal with watching Matt kiss Karen in the hospital that one time, I can deal with this. Now that was uncomfortable.”

Your blood runs cold.

“Matt…kissed Karen?” You ask, heart hammering uncomfortably in your chest, the increased speed sharp and painful as it pounds relentlessly. “When was that?”

Foggy must not hear the way your voice has changed, too busy trying to take a bit of his sandwich. “During the Punisher case. I like…turned to look at them, and bam. A full smack of his lips against hers, and it looked just as uncomfortable for me as it was for them.”

“So this…was a while ago?”

Foggy freezes, finally glancing back up at you, a confused frown on his face. “Matt didn’t tell you?”

You shift in your seat, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, but you're not quite sure if you pull it off. “Tell me what?”

He shakes his head. “I mean, it’s no big deal, really. They only dated for a small period of time, and it’s barely even worth mentioning, to be honest. It was right as Elektra came back into the picture.”

Ah, Elektra.

The woman whose scars you’ve been steadily trying to heal ever since you met him.

“Do you think it would have gone anywhere if Elektra hadn’t come back?” You ask hesitantly, fingernails biting into the palm of your hand. Foggy looks thoughtful.

“I’m not sure,” he says, appearing to think about it. “They definitely liked each other. It could have been something, had either one of them been truthful with each other. To be honest, I kind of thought they would try again after everything with Fisk, but they’ve remained just friends.”

You glance down at your hands, struggling to take a deep breath. When you glance back up, Foggy is frowning heavily.

“Are you okay?”

Forcing a smile on your face, you nod, trying to get rid of the images of beautiful Karen and handsome Matt, standing next to each other and smiling, like they had that night at Josie’s. The picture of them together flashes through your head almost brutally. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. I just didn’t know is all,” you tell him with a shrug of your shoulders. “And I’m super hungry, so I think I’m a little out of it.”

Foggy looks at you, eyes narrowing in consideration, before his face brightens again. “I totally feel that. Like…my life is perpetually split into two sections; eating, or thinking about when I’m going to eat again. My stomach is forever calling out for food.”

You laugh, and while you find what he’s said amusing, it’s not enough to drown out the roaring in your ears. The new knowledge has sent you spiraling, and it’s like every thought you’ve had about the two of them is standing in front of you, taunting you. Matt and Karen had at one point been together. Maybe only for a short period of time, according to Foggy, but feelings had been there, and you can’t help but think that you were possibly the thing that was standing in the way of the universe correcting itself.

Foggy has thankfully turned back to his sandwich, and you pray for the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

Your phone rings, and you pull it out of your purse, grateful for the first time in your life to see your boss’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” her voice greets you, “I know you’re taking your lunch, but is there any way you can come back early? Someone in accounting messed up the data you’ve collected, and I could really use some help getting it sorted back out. It needs to be resubmitted by the end of the day.”

Perfect.

“Yes, I can be there in ten. I’ll see you soon.”

Your boss hangs up, and you’re shoving your phone into your purse as you rise up from your chair. “I have to go, work emergency,” you tell Foggy in explanation as he looks at you questioningly. “Will you give Matt his lunch and tell him I’m sorry I missed him?”

He nods with a small grin, gingerly wiping his mouth with a napkin as he swallows, careful to not rub too hard. His skin really does look painful. “I’ll tell him to give you a call later. He’ll be sad that he didn’t get to spend lunch with you.”

Your heart aches painfully in your chest. You’re sad, too, but right now the relief far outweighs the disappointment. You’re not sure you’d be able to handle sitting across from him right now, insecurities and negative thoughts spreading through your entire body like an uncontrollable wildfire.

Matt has always made your heart pound relentlessly in your chest, the mere thought of him sending you into overdrive. His wide smile. His cocky smirk. His beautiful eyes he only lets a select few see. His soft skin.

But now your heart is pounding for a whole different reason, the anxiety ensnaring you so completely in such a small period of time, and you don’t want him around to witness the fallout that’s bound to happen.

You send one last smile to Foggy, and if he notices the panic and misery in it, he doesn’t say anything.

*****************

The final nail in the coffin happens at a fundraiser Nelson, Murdock & Page had been invited to. The fundraiser was raising money to help underprivileged individuals afford legal counsel when charged with petty crimes, and the firm is happy to attend and donate what they can to the cause.

Matt had asked you to accompany him, wide smile on his face while he told you about the mission and purpose, and you readily accepted his invitation to join. He seemed so eager and excited, and you couldn't have thought of an excuse to justify not going if you tried.

You’d picked out a beautiful dress for the evening. Red and black, an echo of the black he wears out at night, and the red of his sharp lenses, two different personas he puts on for the world. You prefer Matt in sweat pants and a hoodie with large fuzzy socks pulled up mid-shin, but you love all pieces of him, and this dress reminds you of the person he chooses to be for his city.

He’s running late, which is unsurprising, given the long day he’d had in court. He warned you earlier that his work day may run over, but that he’d join the group as quickly as possible.

You enter the fundraiser with Foggy, Karen, and Marci instead, taking in the way the lobby of the museum has transformed into a beautiful layout filled with cocktail tables that are covered with sleek black cloths and lit-up centerpieces. The lighting is low and almost romantic, a soft jazz band is playing on a stage directly ahead, and there are various decorations and balloons in hues of blues and purples.

It’s not necessarily a black-tie event, but people are dressed beautifully as they talk amongst themselves, weaving in and out of the crowd as they greet and strike up new conversations with people who have just walked in. It’s not exactly surprising when an older woman walks up to the group with a smile on her face, arms outstretched for a hug. Your group of lawyers is bound to run into people they know.

“Foggy,” she greets warmly, pulling him in, squeezing him to her. Foggy leans in immediately, beaming at the woman.

“Emily,” he says with a kiss to her cheek. “Always wonderful to see you.” He turns to the rest of the group, arm still around her shoulders. “Everyone, this is Emily Davidson. She is an old friend of the family.”

She smiles broadly at the group, before lifting her face back towards Foggy

“Where’s Matt?” Emily questions, arm still wrapped around his waist after a brief chorus of hellos are said. “I thought he was coming.”

“He’ll be here soon,” Foggy answers easily. He takes a flute of champagne that a waiter hands to him. “This is–”

“Oh, you must be his girlfriend,” she says with a large smile, interrupting Foggy and finally stepping away from him. Her eyes are absolutely lit up with warmth and excitement. “Matt said you’d be here with him.”

But Emily isn’t looking at you. She’s looking at Karen.

Your heart drops.

Of course it’s Karen. It’s always Karen.

“Aren’t you just beautiful,” she gushes, grabbing Karen’s hands in what can only be described as pure joy. “That boy always sure knew how to pick them.”

“I’m not—”

“He says you’ve been together for over a year, right?” She continues, voice carrying over Karen’s immediate objection. Karen gives you a look that is extremely apologetic, cheeks turning red. “None of the other women he’s brought around have stuck. I’m so happy to know someone as sweet looking as you has decided to–”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Karen finally manages to interrupt, looking deeply uncomfortable as she shifts on her feet. The woman frowns, but Karen removes her hands from hers and gestures towards you with a smile that is kind, but also increasingly awkward.

Emily stares at you for a second, mouth dropping infinitesimally, but she recovers quickly, a wide smile once again lighting up her face. Though she is subtle about it you don’t miss the way her eyes briefly glance up and down, as if sizing you up.

“Oh. It’s so nice to meet you, dear,” she says, taking a step towards you. Her gaze upon you is kind, but more reserved and closed off than it had been with Karen. She seems to be yet another person who expects Matt to have someone as beautiful as Karen on his arm, and the thought causes your throat to go dry and your heart to drop. “You look lovely, too. That dress is stunning.”

You force a smile, and you hate the way it’s appeared on your face more and more these past few weeks. It was once a smile that was meant for the occasional awkward conversation, but lately it’s almost found a permanent home on your face.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” you tell her, hugging her awkwardly when she pulls you in. Your body is full of tension, and your movements feel stiff. She pulls away, taking a step back. She eyes the group once more, the four of you in a semi-circle around her, before mentioning that she has some friends she needs to catch up with. Emily walks away, unaware of the turmoil that is brewing in you.

The air is sweltering around the four of you, and your hand is holding on to your clutch in a grip that would be bruising if it was someone's hand instead.

Karen abruptly turns to you, an hesitant smile on her face, “I–”

“Does anyone know where the bathroom is?” You cut her off, making a show of looking around you, trying to spot one. Your eyes land on one finally, and it’s like a lifeline that’s calling to you. “Oh, there it is. I’ll be back in a few.” Without another word, you turn on your heel and make your way towards the bathroom, shoes clacking loudly on the floor.

You're in a stall before you know it, the bathroom shockingly but thankfully unoccupied. You lock the stall door with shaking hands, begging yourself not to cry as your face crumbles. The last thing you want is to go back out to your friends with red eyes and smeared mascara, so you bite your tongue until it bleeds.

You have to get out of here.

An idea springs up inside your head, and you yank your phone out of your purse, immediately pulling up your message chain with your younger sister.

Text Sent 7:32pm: I need you to call me in fifteen minutes with an emergency.

You hold your breath, praying that your sister responds shortly. It’s always been a code when one of you needs an excuse to get out of something, and you’ve never relied on it the way you’re relying on it now.

Text Received 7:33pm: Is everything okay?

Sighing in relief that she’s answered so quickly, tears still pricking at your eyes, you type out a quick reply.

Text Sent 7:33pm: Not really, but I’ll explain later. Can you call me in a few?

Text Received 7:34pm: Absolutely.

You rejoin your friends with another fake smile, and make an effort to seem as put together as possible. Temporarily shoving your misery aside, you crack a few jokes, laugh at Foggy’s commentary of the people around him, and tap your champagne flute against Karen’s in a funny, random toast, ignoring the way she’s looking at you in concern. You make a show of wondering where Matt is, casually mentioning that he had said he would be arriving soon, craning your neck to glance around the room as if in search for him.

In reality, you’re hoping he’s nowhere near the event, so that you can slip out without a word.

You know you’re being borderline childish with how you’re reacting. It had been an easy mistake on Emily’s part, but it’s once again reinforcing the idea that Matt should be with someone who looks like Karen, at least by society’s standards.

A beautiful man with a beautiful woman. It doesn't matter that he's blind and can't possibly know what his partner looks like; there's still an unfortunate, unspoken rule that says beautiful people belong with other beautiful people.

You're cute, in your own way. But other people don't seem to think it's enough. And while you’d normally be the type of person to flip society the bird, you can only hear the same message so many times before it starts to sink in like a poison with no antidote.

True to her word, your sister calls at the fifteen minute mark, and you feel the way your phone is vibrating in your purse. You pull it out, sending a quick apologetic look to the trio as you take a small step to the side, and answer it.

“Hello?”

“Are you coming over to talk about whatever is going on?” Your sister says in greeting, her dry tone still managing to sound a bit concerned.

“Oh no, are you okay?” You ask in reply, placing a heavy frown on your face. The group is watching you closely, even while they make small talk amongst themselves.

“Did Matt do something?”

“I’m at an event right now,” you say, somehow managing to sound regretful, letting a wince slide across your face. Foggy looks at you, his brow furrowed, as if trying to figure out what's going on. When he wants to be, he's more perceptive than anyone ever gives him credit for. “Can I come by after?”

“Tell whoever’s there that I need stitches or something,” your sister suggests helpfully.

You sigh loudly, shifting your eyes upward in what you hope conveys a small amount of annoyance. “Okay, I’m coming.” You hang up shortly after, turning to the group with an unhappy look across your face. At least that part isn’t necessarily a lie.

“Do you really have to leave?” Karen asks, and while she sounds sympathetic to whatever may have happened on the phone, there’s also a tiny spark of suspicion in her eyes. You ignore it.

“My sister sliced her hand open and probably needs stitches,” you say as an explanation, grimacing. “She asked me to meet her at the hospital. She’s awful with needles and is freaking out. I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”

Marci gives you a sad smile, and it looks a little too knowing for your taste. She’s the one who knows you the least, and while she’s a part of the friend group by way of Foggy, you don’t know her nearly enough to be overly concerned about whether or not she believes the act.

Foggy and Karen, on the other hand, seem to be a little more cautious with the explanation you’ve given, and you know that if you stay with them much longer, they’ll see right through the agony that’s tearing its way through you, no matter how hard you’re trying to keep it at bay.

“Tell Matt that I’m sorry to have to leave so early,” you say to Foggy as you lean in to give him a hug. Karen hugs you, too, and you try not to flinch from the touch.

Beautiful, lovely Karen. It’s not her fault, you know. But it doesn’t stop the sting.

“You could call him yourself,” Foggy suggests as you move to leave the group. You don’t answer, adrenaline and panic finally sliding through the cracks, and you can’t be there one second more.

You’re crying on your sister’s couch in a set of pajamas she’s leant you forty-five minutes later, bottle of whiskey on the table in front of you, your cell phone once again on do not disturb with a growing collection of missed calls and voicemails.

******************

You stumble back into your apartment the next morning, still dressed in your sister’s pajamas, evening dress bunched over your arm. Your expensive heels hang almost pathetically from your fingers, a reminder of a failed night out, having been replaced by a pair of old flip flops.

“Hey,” a voice says, and you’re not necessarily surprised to see him standing in your kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee. He looks tired, more tired than you’ve seen in a long time, and you wince, knowing a large part of it is due to you.

“Hey,” you whisper in reply. You set your shoes and dress on your kitchen table, rubbing your eyes tiredly. “What are you doing here?”

Matt’s eyebrows shoot up in slight surprise, mouth parting. “Am I…unwelcome here? Am I intruding?”

“No, of course not,” you say in a rush, disliking the way his beautiful face flashes with something that looks like hurt. “I just…wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“You would have known if you bothered to answer my calls or listen to any of the several voicemails I left last night.”

You hang your head in shame and guilt. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“I had no idea what was going on,” he tells you, placing his coffee cup on the counter and taking a slow step forward. There's a look of concern on his face, though it's buried under a level of irritation and exasperation that seems to be slowly settling in. “You were just…gone.”

“I told Foggy and Karen that my sister–”

“You’re a horrible liar, sweetheart,” Matt says with a laugh that almost sounds bitter. “They knew something was up, and unfortunately I was still too far away to know something had happened to actually do anything.”

“Nothing hap–”

“Did you miss the part where I just said you are a horrible liar?”

Your jaw snaps shut.

“Your sister finally called me back last night after you went to bed, or else I would have had no idea where you were,” Matt says, and he sounds extremely frustrated. “You can’t…you can’t just disappear on me like that.”

You know the way people have just up and left him in the past without a word, you know the way it has continued to leave scars on him, and it makes you feel incredibly guilty. But it doesn't stop the way you begin to also feel defensive, a direct result of the weeks of hurt still flowing through you.

“I’m not a child, Matt,” you tell him in something that could almost be construed as a snap. “You don’t need to know my whereabouts all hours of the day.”

He looks like he’s been slapped and you wince, already regretting the words. “That’s not–you think that’s what this is? Me being clingy? Or–or me trying to control what you do?”

“No–”

“Foggy said you ran out of there last night looking like you were about to burst into tears and all I could do was call and call and call and pray that you were okay. You went to your sister’s place in Jersey because you knew I wouldn’t be able to track you the further away you got, right? That I would have no idea where you were unless someone told me?"

You flinch, you can't help it. “That wasn’t the only rea–”

“And all because a woman mistook Karen as my girlfriend instead of you?” He asks incredulously. “How childish is that?”

It’s your turn to feel like you’ve been slapped. Your cheeks flood in shame, embarrassment, pain. You’re not quite sure how to respond to it, because a part of you knows how childish it had been. But the insecurity is not based on one event, but a series of them, and the chorus of voices in your head that tells you you're not good enough for him has been growing steadily louder since that night at the bar.

Matt’s words have effectively stunned you into silence, and while you open your mouth several times to speak, nothing comes out. Your shoulders sag, and you all but curl into yourself, hugging your arms around your waist in an effort to appear as small as possible.

To take up as little space as possible.

The way Matt is still tense tells you that he had been ready for you to fire something back at him, some sort of rebuttal that he’d easily tear down as he would in court, and when you don’t, he seems confused. His brow furrows as you all but wilt in front of him.

You watch as a flicker of realization passes over his face, and you cringe. He's caught on, and you don't like it.

“It actually…it actually hurt you,” he says, and his voice is startlingly quiet, a sharp contrast to the way he had sounded so heated and frustrated just moments before. “Didn’t it?”

You give a noncommittal shrug, shoulders rising and falling ever so slightly, but otherwise don’t have any sort of reaction.

Matt licks his lips, and your eyes can’t help but follow the motion even in your misery. “Why…why did that upset you so much?” You shrug your shoulders again, but he shakes his head, as if refusing your lack of a response. “No-no, don’t do that. You can’t have a reaction like that and expect me to just not say anything about it, to not want to know what’s wrong or what I can do to fix it. Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes are welling with tears before you can even try to stop them, and with a quiet whine, you cover your face in your hands.

You hear Matt swear, and before you can even take your first shuddering breath, he is wrapped around you. Your head is tucked under his chin, a hand cradling the back of your skull to keep you pressed into him, the other wrapped around your back. You leave your hands covering your face, unwilling to tear down the barrier at the moment. You’re barely holding things in as it is, and the thought of exposing yourself to him completely right now is terrifying.

He’s whispering soothing words into your ear, the same things he always tells you when he knows you’re upset, and while the words take the edge off, they’re not a match for the misery that’s got you shredded by its claws.

Eventually he takes a step back, though his body is still pressed lightly against yours. With slow movements, he removes his arms from around you, and gently tries to pry your hands from your face. You struggle against him for a moment, tears still soaking your hands, but you give in, as you so often do, when it comes to the gentle force that is Matt Murdock.

He tilts your face up and places a soft kiss onto your forehead, palms cupping your face as he gently wipes the tears that have dripped down your cheeks. His eyes dance blindly across your face, and though he can’t see the way your sadness has literally poured from you, he can feel the way the heat of the tears have scalded you on their way down.

“Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart,” he whispers against your skin, still cradling your face in his scarred, calloused hands. “What happened?”

You take a deep breath, one that sounds more like a gasp than anything, and keep your eyes squeezed shut. “Everyone always…everyone always assumes you’re with her.”

“With Karen?”

You nod, fingers twisting themselves into the t-shirt he’s wearing.

“It’s happened more than once?”

“It happens all the time,” you tell him with something that sounds suspiciously like another sob. His frown deepens. “And maybe…maybe I just hear it more now because I've become so sensitive to it, but it’s happened quite a few times. And I know how stupid it is because I shouldn’t listen to what other people say, but it still just sucks to hear it over and over again.”

“What do people say?”

You try to twist out of his grasp, but he doesn’t let you. He presses another kiss to your forehead and asks the question again, softer this time. “They say…they say how beautiful you are together. How you’ll have beautiful children together. And when they–when they see that you’re with me instead, it’s almost like it’s offensive to them.”

Matt makes a mournful sound in the back of his throat, thumb catching a new wave of tears that trail down your cheeks at the admission. “None of that matters to me. You know that. You're the most beautiful person I've ever met, and I don't need to be able to see you to know that.”

“I know,” you whimper, and the sound makes you feel borderline pathetic. “But it matters to me.”

“Why, sweetheart?”

“Because it’s like everyone is saying I’m not good enough for you,” you say, still keeping your eyes closed as you expel the root of the insecurity. You feel like you're tearing yourself apart for him, the wounds every bit as real as the ones you spend night after night patching up on him.

“She is beautiful and kind and all the wonderful things you can think about a person. And I love Karen, she is such a wonderful person, and I'm incredibly lucky to call her a friend." You open your eyes briefly, taking in the way Matt looks just as pained at the words spilling from your mouth. "But it’s hard when everyone is basically telling me that she’s the person you should be with. And it’s–it’s not like I haven’t thought the same thing before. But hearing it come from other people just makes it worse.”

“Why would you–”

“And then Foggy told me–”

“Foggy?”

“--that you and Karen used to date,” you continue, as if the words can’t be stopped now. “He told me that you were together briefly, and that maybe it would have continued had Elektra not come into the picture. He said he had half-expected you two to perhaps get back together, or to try again. And I couldn’t help but think that maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be. That maybe I’m just some placeholder until–”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he says, and though he hasn’t raised his voice, the tone is stern and it finally manages to cut you off. You lower your head, but he lifts it back up. “Open your eyes.” With a deep breath, you do so, his face coming into view above yours. His mouth is parted in something that both resembles shock and slight frustration. “I am with you because I love you. Not because I can’t have Karen. Not because it didn’t work out with her. I am not with her because I don’t want her. I want you, only you.”

“But–”

“We went on one date, and I knew pretty early on that even though it felt nice for a moment, it was never going to be something that was sustainable, or worth fighting for because she wasn’t right for me. There is nothing between us, and there hasn’t been in years, and there won’t ever be again, because I am with the person I want to be with,” he tells you fiercely, pressing his forehead into yours, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “I am yours in every single way. And whatever you need from me to help you believe that, say the word and it’s yours.”

His tone is once again quiet and gentle by the time he’s finished speaking, and the words are a balm that rushes through your skin, putting out and soothing the heat and anxiety that has been coursing through your veins since the night before. You take shuddering breath after shuddering breath, attempting to bring your heart rate back down to normal, and at last you succeed.

“Sweetheart?” he asks gently when you’re quiet for too long. He pulls his head back, head tilted down towards you in the way you’re so familiar with. “Tell me what you need from me.”

You shake your head, contemplating the right words. “I can’t think of anything that you don’t already do, Matt,” you admit softly. “You…you already know what I need before I even know how to articulate it.”

He's quiet for a moment before he opens his mouth. "Do we need to…keep a little distance from her for a bit?" He looks deeply unsettled by the idea, and it's equally disorienting to you, too.

"God, no," you say with a gasp, jerking back as far as his hold on you will let you. "None of this is on her, at all. And I don't want her to feel like she did anything, because she didn't."

Matt looks relieved. "I didn't think it would be something you'd go for, but I wanted to throw it on the table, in case you did need some space."

You shake your head. "No, I don't need anything like that. I promise. Foggy and Karen are my friends, too, you know," you tell him, mouth tilted ever slightly at the corner as you think about all the memories you've shared over the past year. "Sure, I met them through you, but I love them. You're a package deal, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

He tucks a stand of hair behind your ear. "They feel the same way about you."

You can't help the way your smile widens slightly. "Good…I'm glad."

Matt places another kiss on your forehead, pausing again before he speaks. “I like to think I'm good at reading you,” he says softly, eyes landing on your shoulder, the color almost green in the sunlight that's pouring in from your kitchen window. “And I like to think that not a lot gets by me. But this did. And it seems like it’s been there for a while.”

You shrug, as always trying to downplay the way you’re feeling, but per usual, Matt doesn’t let you get away with it.

“It was a miss on my part,” he continues with a sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t pick up on the fact that something was off.”

“Nothing about this is your fault, so please don’t apologize.” He opens his mouth to object, but you shush him with a soft finger on his lips. “I could have said something. I know how to use my words. I… purposefully avoided you when I was feeling like this because I knew you’d pull it out of me eventually. So that’s on me, I think.”

He looks contemplative for a second, before a small smile graces his face. You trace his mouth with the finger that’s already resting there, and he takes the opportunity to press a kiss to it. “I’ll make an effort to listen more for when something might be upsetting you, and you’ll make an effort to talk to me about it. Deal?”

Nodding, you mirror the small grin. “Deal.”

“And if I feel the need to pull you close and put my hands on you in public so that everyone knows you're mine, you'll be okay with that, right?"

You can't help but huff a laugh. "Matt–"

"Or if you prefer, you can do the same to me, whenever the need arises," he says innocently.

Your eyebrows raise. "Why do I feel like you're asking me to claim you in public?"

"It's a mutual claiming, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes fondly. "I guess when you put it that way, how can I say no?"

Matt smirks as he lowers his mouth towards yours, hand slipping into your hair so that you are angled perfectly beneath him. "Seal it with a kiss?”

“Absol–”

His lips are on yours before you’re done speaking the word.

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #foggy nelson #karen page #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x fem reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction

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spoiledblogif · 7 months

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This is the development blog for the interactive fiction called "The Second Sight", which you can find on itch.io at the link above!

This is my first IF project, although I've been writing original stories and fanfiction for years.

I've included the story description and character profiles from the itch page below the cut.

This blog will be a combination of development info, images and music that I associate with the story, and other musings.

Fair warning, there might be spoilers from the latest chapters here, so I recommend catching up before reading too far.

Asks and submissions are always open.

You’re an urban legend in a county full of them. When you were thirteen, you were found passed out in the road by one of the local cops. No missing persons report. No fingerprints on file. No memories. Just a name.

Oh, and some bizarre psychic powers. You're content with simplicity. You like your isolated cabin and helping Carter track down missing persons. You know that in theory there are more people like you out there, but you've never wanted to look behind the curtain to find out.

However, with the disappearance of a local teen named Casey Powell and a recent attempt on your foster father's life, your serene, isolated life comes abruptly to its end and a new chapter begins.

✤✤✤

The Second Sight is an urban fantasy story, where you step into the role of a psychic whose strange powers have always separated them from others. Those same powers will drag you down the rabbit hole and into a world that is both the familiar and foreign to everything you know. A world filled with magic, witches, fae, demons, and the unknown.

You can immerse yourself in the story by customizing your protagonist's general appearance, choosing how they interact with others, and whether you lean on logic or intuition to problem solve. There are three love interests planned (more may be added depending on player reception and feedback), the genders of which will be selected by the player upon meeting them.

Characters

Jacob Carter

Age: Late forties

Race: Human. Definitely.

Gender: Male

Temperament: Carter radiates grizzled, old bastard energy and despite being the least paternal person in the world, he is your adoptive father. While harsh and aloof on the surface, he is also fiercely protective of you and has bent over backwards to give a decent life to a kid that isn't even his. He doesn't talk about his life before coming to Herman County and you haven't asked him, though that might change soon enough...

✤✤✤

Zander/Zora

Age: Late twenties.

Race: Human.

Appearance: Umber brown skin, black locs, grey eyes

Temperament: Gentle and resolute, Z isn't what you imagine when you think of an agent of the mysterious Magic and Anomalies Bureau. Kind, soft-spoken, and exceedingly polite, Z is Carter's former apprentice and something about them puts the old man on edge.

✤✤✤ Renard/Rowan

Age: Appears to be in their late twenties or early thirties

Race: Human. Maybe.

Appearance: Tall and slender, white-blonde hair, and gold eyes.

Temperament: Playful and flirtatious, talking to R always feels like a game of cat and mouse and you can never be sure which role is yours. Part sad clown, part trickster, and always maddening to work with, the only things you can be certain of with R is that they probably know what they're doing. Everything else is up in the air.

✤✤✤

Unknown aka "The Kestrel"

Age: ???

Race: Definitely not human.

Appearance: Tall, beautiful, elegant, with black hair and black eyes.

Temperament: The Kestrel is a complete unknown. It's impossible to say whether they are a lethal ally or deadly enemy, but either way they are a powerful dreamwalker. You don't know how long they've been watching you, but you're willing to bet that it's been longer than you're comfortable with.

#pinned post #blog intro #interactive fiction #the second sight

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undertheopensky · 3 months

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In Loving Memory

Whumptober Day 29: Troubled Past Resurfacing

Characters: Legend

Trigger warnings: Hurt/No Comfort, Grief, Depression

This is not at all in the spirit of the prompt, but it’s what came to me, and it’s suitably angsty for inclusion in Whumptober!

Read on Ao3!

---

He hadn’t even been looking for it.

Link (it had taken him a long time to get used to that, again; even now he sometimes hears a voice murmur his nickname and his whole body jolts; he’s never sure if he overheard it or imagined it or what) is in the library. He’s not that interested in the books. He just – couldn’t stand to be in the house, when it keeps echoing with voices that don’t exist. And there’s only so many sad looks he can take from Fable – Zelda – before he snaps.

So he’d excused himself to one of the few places in the castle he can lose himself in without fear. People never expect to find him here, so as long as he has a book in hand and a suitable corner to look unapproachable in, anyone who does spot him will dismiss him as another Hylian scholar lost in the stacks.

He wanders along, fingers trailing through the dust on a shelf. It’s quiet, back here. Being so far from the entrance and the most heavily-trodden sections of the library muffles the noise of the castle. Makes it easy to ignore anything that might be people searching for him.

He’s so tired. He hasn’t been sleeping well, lately. Sometimes Ravio can only wake him from nightmares by calling Legend, and it helps but it hurts, waking to the wrong warm face and remembering all over again that the nickname and the people associated with it are far beyond his reach.

He’s had to say goodbye before, but usually not with such finality. He’ll run into Din on the road again someday; Ralph will turn up when he’s least needed; Gulley comes back from Kakariko to visit every month.

This time it’s not just distance, but massive swathes of time, hundreds or thousands of years away. Or they don’t exist, and never will, because his is the broken timeline, the one where evil prospered and is barely held at bay by a few stubborn souls.

Link’s fingers catch on a spine so badly frayed it probably shouldn’t even be in circulation. He pulls it out.

RECORDS, proclaims the front, stamped into the leather and darkened with ink. Not valuable enough for gold leaf, then. Or for proper repairs. The book is old, and tattered, and shows the singed-edge pages of a book narrowly saved from a fire. Surely someone should have thrown it away by now…

Curiosity well and truly piqued, Link flips it open.

The symbol stamped on the title page makes his heart skip a beat. Four had showed him that, something like it; a Guild medallion, proving his mastery and recognition by Hyrule’s Blacksmithing Guild. At first Legend had been equal parts jealous and impressed, and then he’d just been excited, when Four offered to teach him.

Small, steady hands, with callouses more used to holding a hammer than a blade. Correcting his grip with gentle confidence. Demonstrating a technique long forgotten to Legend’s time, swinging with so much force but such a light touch on the handle –

And a rare smile when Legend’s latest attempt came out well.

Goddesses, he misses them.

Legend – Link – swipes a hand over his eyes and starts turning pages. Mindlessly reading the dust-dry entries, regularly stamped with dates and official guild signatures. One person trained seven apprentices to full mastery over their career; another died without ever training anyone and the royal court had to source someone new. None of the names are familiar. It’s all just words on a page. Then, abruptly:

ROYAL ARMOURER XXXX-XXXX IN HER MAJESTY QUEEN ZELDA THE NINTH’S REIGN

LINK “FOUR” SMITH

APPRENTICE: LINK “LEGEND” ALFONSSON.

LINK “FOUR” SMITH ATTESTS THAT HIS APPRENTICE LINK “LEGEND” ALFONSSON HAS ACQUIRED THE SKILLS NECESSARY TO BE CERTIFIED AS A BLACKSMITH WITHIN THE HYRULETOWN GUILD.

THE GUILD HAS BEEN PRESENTED WITH EVIDENCE OF LINK “LEGEND” ALFONSSON’S BLACKSMITHING WORK.

IT IS AGREED LINK “LEGEND” ALFONSSON’S BLACKSMITHING WORK IS OF SUFFICIENT QUALITY TO GRANT HIM CERTIFICATION.

IN THE YEAR XX OF HER MAJESTY QUEEN ZELDA THE NINTH’S REIGN, FULL GUILD MEMBERSHIP IS AWARDED TO LINK “LEGEND” ALFONSSON.

That’s how Zelda finds him, hours later. Curled protectively over an ancient book of boring records so his tears wouldn’t smudge the ink. Clinging to the proof that one of his brothers, long-dead, had existed. Had loved him. Had kept loving him, long after Legend departed their life.

He misses them.

#whumptober 2023 #skies writes #linked universe #lu legend #lu fic

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mlmaegon · 4 months

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lore olympus is over

tl;dr it was bad.

it was a long episode, i counted 110 panels, give or take a few. lore olympus has had increasingly long episodes, to the point of feeling arduous and overwrought with unnecessary details and subplots. i could feel my eyes glaze over as i was reading each episode; for years, it's felt like none of the episodes advanced the plot in any way, and mostly existed as pointless filler, delving into a plethora of subplots that never get resolved—at the very least, they never seem to be resolved in a meaningful and fulfilling way.

but enough preamble! you're wondering what happened in the episode itself, and i'm here to tell you. for context, within the last three to five episodes, apollo revealed that he was secretly a puppet of ouranos the whole time, ouranos revealed himself and tried to steal persephone's fertility goddess powers or something equally asinine, and persephone unlocked her full fertility goddess powers in order to unlock the full fertility goddess powers of all the other fertility goddesses, and together they brought back gaea from her vague undefined slumber/exile/whatever.

we start with the reveal of gaea, who defeats ouranos within five panels. a bit anticlimactic, but ouranos was revealed within the last five episodes of a 280-episode series, so i don't know what i was expecting.

it feels great to know there were no real stakes to this conflict.

gaea turns back to hades and persephone, and stares at them. the next full panel signals a timeskip. it's some undefined number of months later, and hades is on his own. the audience hasn't been shown the details of hades and persephone's confrontation with gaea, so we're led to believe something happened to persephone; all we know is that she and hades have been separated, and hades is sad.

hades goes through his morning routine, then enters the mortal realm, and the story flashes back to gaea's conversation with hades and persephone:

cool.

here, we run into an issue of bad comics formatting. i don't plan on getting too into the nitty gritty of page layout, it's more interesting to me than it is to most other people, and webcomics function fundamentally differently from normal comics, so i'm not as well versed in how to analyze them. that being said, this is what that snippet looks like when it's zoomed out:

this is the most important line in the episode, perhaps even the entire series, and neither the character speaking nor the characters reacting are in the same panel as the text. it's just this floating, meaningless bubble of dialogue, and most readers are on their phones, so it can't be seen at the same time as gaea, hades, or persephone; it has to be scrolled through. to me, the isolation seems to derive this line of anything that could make it compelling. it's also just a bad line. i am by no means the first (and hopefully not the last) person to point this out, but structuring your feminist hades and persephone retelling around persephone finding true love with a man is absolute nonsense. there is nothing genuinely feminist or subversive about lore olympus.

gaea goes on to monologue a bit, and ends up with this conclusion:

the hades/persephone myth retelling is finally complete: persephone is made to spend six months in the mortal realm and six months in the underworld, only in the lore olympus retelling, it's not demeter and hades who make this deal, it's an official decree from gaea. agency is stripped from demeter and hades and given to gaea, who had no role in this story originally, and shouldn't have this role now. ultimately, lore olympus is barely an echo of the original mythos, it keeps some aesthetics, and some names, but i am certain the nuances and complexities of hades and persephone as mythological and cultural figures have been lost on rachel smythe.

we also find out that hades and persephone are allowed to visit each other at any point, so the tragedy of their separation is completely undercut. they get a happy ending, and so does everyone else, except for the irredeemably evil apollo, and the redeemably evil zeus.

dionysus looks like this now after hardly showing up in the story:

i don't even know what to say to this:

happy pride month i guess

hades and persephone are happy and in love and everything is perfect and magical forever. the end.

but wait! there's more! you thought it was over, but there are at least 20 more panels! we skip ahead to "many, many years later," where melinoe—hades and persephone's dream daughter from the future—is now hades and persephone's actual real living daughter, no longer trapped in tartarus with kronos (long story, don't worry about it). she wakes up, and makes her way to hades and persephone's room, where persephone has just given birth:

this panel certainly is something. it wasn't until my second read through that i realized there was, in fact, a baby in hades' arms. the last panel is of hades, persephone, and their two daughters, finally a complete and happy family. where did dionysus go? i don't know, don't worry about it.

good lord rachel smythe cannot draw children. normally i wouldn't be mean about this—i can't draw children either—but rachel smythe is a bestselling author with the most popular webtoon on the site and multiple eisner awards, so i don't really feel like i'm punching down here. her art is incredibly inconsistent, and it tends to be at its worst when hades and persephone are standing next to each other, or when any child is shown. the art did not improve in the final episode, if anything, it was worse than usual.

what did it all mean? it's hard to say. i've been reading this series for years at this point, and trying to piece together the semblance of a coherent plot is arduous at best, and impossible at worst. the writing was never good per se, but the early episodes seemed to have a spark, a passion, that's completely lacking later on. the final arc was especially disappointing, smythe spent years building up apollo as an antagonist, only for him to be revealed as a puppet the entire time, and in the end, his defeat didn't feel like a victory for persephone.

i'm having a hard time coming up with a good conclusion. what is there to say about lore olympus that hasn't already been said? it's lazy, it's incoherent, it's liberal pseudofeminist nonsense. i spent three years obsessively reading it and now i don't know what to do with my life. thanks for nothing, rachel smythe.

#anti lore olympus #anti lo #lo critical

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alyona11 · 6 months

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Ok time for my big Hadestown hot take and that’s that West End Hadestown doesn’t give you a 100% Hadestown experience. It’s still ridiculously good and 100% worth seeing, don’t get me wrong (I used my opportunity and saw it twice and will likely see it again if I’m in London), but it kinda made me realise a couple of things about OBC production that will always be my Roman Empire and make me deeply upset Broadway is too greedy to give us an OBC proshot.

So, here are some of my thoughts and reflections based on seeing Hadestown live on West End + seeing different versions (including London National theatre proshot) in boots. I think you can pretty solidly say that in Hadestown there are 2 main stories: Orpheus/Eurydice and Hades/Persephone. And even though arguably Orphedice is the main most important story, it my opinion it also wins from Hadesphone story being strong. Which works perfectly in OBC due to Amber Gray and Patrick Page delivering a very deep nuanced performances as their characters.

I think part of the success of Hadestown when it works on its fullest is how it creates a very deep emotional journey. And I feel that regardless which pair of Orpheus and Eurydice you have (if we take Broadway/tour/West End take on the characters) it’ll still work! Like you need to try really hard to mess up orphedice the way people wouldn’t root for Orpheus or wouldn’t empathise with Eurydice because they are so relatable and cute. You instantly love them, they are so so lovable. So orphedice part is one thing in Hadestown that imo works if not always then in 99% of the cases.

Hades and Persephone’s part of the story in the contrary is VERY hard to nail on 100%, in my opinion, and this is literally driving me crazy. Maybe seeing Amber Gray and Patrick page in professional recording awoken some feelings in me, I don’t know. I will state straight away that I also do enjoy other actors’ takes on characters and I do see some very interesting character moments there and there. However, I keep returning to the thought that Amber/Patrick’s characterisation works SO WELL for the main narrative. I’ll try to explain why I think so. Consider it my love letter to the OBC.

First and foremost, I feel like Hadesphone story has a very fine dynamic that the actors have to nail, so you would feel that: 1) these two still love each other; 2) these two are buried under their problems and see no way out, only a miracle (aka Orpheus and his song) can save their marriage.

And if the first one usually works at least due to Epic 3, the second one, imo, often (at least partially) falls victim to acting/directing choices which can cause troubles with point 1 as well. I think one big thing I’ve noticed is that often Persephone’s alcoholism gets forgotten in the acting performance. Like yeah sure her choreography includes drinking from a flask but in comparison to Amber you never get a feeling that she is absolutely wasted. Which, is in my opinion something that you should feel when you’re watching the show and something I was constantly forgetting about when I was watching the show on West End. I feel in Amber’s performance you can constantly see that her Persephone’s feel good attitude is a façade of a broken person who knows that her marriage is going to hell in front of her eyes yet she is too passive and hopeless to try to make an active change (well, she does try in Chant and nothing happens), so her only way is to chase the sense of normality that the “medicine” gives her. But when she is alone, if you get to catch a moment when people are not looking at her, you can see a deep sadness under her positive front and her memory of the old days when everything was more simple. Nevertheless, the main point that the lyrics literally say is that Persephone is blinded by the river of wine. And this is crucial to her character and her relationship with Hades because the story states that even though Hades is a problem and he is an active actor in creating more problems, he is not the only failure in this relationship. Persephone needs to be woken up from her apathy almost as much as Hades does and this is something that we see during If It’s True.

From Hades’ side I feel like it’s not a good decision to make him a total villain because when he is irredeemable you don’t feel like the whole “song that will fix the world” has any chance of working long term. I think Patrick nailed a deep antagonist very well. His Hades is weird and lowkey creepy and alien. He does objectively bad things but when you look at him you can’t stop thinking that he doesn’t operate in regular human logic or morality. When I look at him in Chant, it feels to me that his words about building stuff to impress Persephone are absolutely sincere, and I can absolutely see that his Hades doesn’t understand why she is so upset about it when his intentions are so so clear. Maybe it’s my vision but even before Epic 3 when he is so far gone and buried in his projects and messed up ideas I don’t have a single doubt that Persephone is a single motivator and goal of Patrick Hades’ life and that he literally doesn’t need any other being to care about. And tragically this fixation is what makes him blind to all other things he does even if those things ruin Persephone’s life (and other people’s but tbh I don’t think he cares).

I feel like by removing Persephone’s Chant 2 verse Hadestown created more problems for Hades and Persephone part of the story making it a much harder job for the actors to prove to the audience that Hades and Persephone have a chance to make their relationship work. Like I get that maybe it was a necessary things to do (even though I think the show is much better with it) but it made it so much harder to empathise with this particular part of the story unless the actors use the choices that work in the narrative. Because for example when I was watching the show on West End part of me was wondering “what is Persephone’s deal in all of that, what does she win by staying with Hades?” With the verse, and with Broadway Previews or London 2018 in particular this part was clear: Persephone still loves Hades and believes that he has the opportunity to change and become a better man he used to be. Without the verse, however, the actors should give you the same idea during the show which is a hard task considering Hades and Persephone have only 2 big conversations together (Chant and How Long). So apart from those songs there are only subtle mostly silent moments they get together through which the actors have to convey the same thought which is hella difficult and probably hardly will be appreciated by anyone apart from the people who sit closely.

So, maybe because in the actor combo I saw (Zachary and Lauren), I got a feeling that even though they were great separately, I didn’t feel much chemistry between them as a pair. I think, Persephone seemed pissed and tired of Hades all the time until How Long and I didn’t feel that she still believes in his willingness to change. And Zach Hades despite being entertaining, kinda gives the impression of Hades who has other options, he is not into Persephone enough. The only sparkle appears between the two in Epic III which is still cute but I’m not sure if it works just as well if that’s the first time you see the show? Also considering Zach Hades gives more malicious intent in His Kiss, The Riot it seems that he is not even slightly interested in Orpheus having any opportunity to succeed with his quest. Which is not bad, don’t get me wrong! But in comparison to Patrick who is deeply self projecting into Orpheus to the point where you could see that even though he doesn’t want to let him go, part of him does because it would prove he too could succeed in his challenge of waiting for Persephone, this take seems a bit lacking. And overall because of His Kiss, their promise in Wait For Me doesn’t seem as giving much hope that the story won’t repeat itself next Sunday. Which in its turn makes Orpheus’ sacrifice feel a bit… worthless. If on Broadway, when Orpheus turns, but spring comes again you feel like it is the start of something new: hopefully a kinder and softer time. On West End the show also wants you to feel it but when you think about Hades and Persephone you feel…less certainty that this sacrifice will have a long term effect?

I guess the creators wanted to concentrate on Orpheus and Eurydice more and forget about Hades and Persephone by making them more secondary story or maybe there was a lack of director’s involvement to give the cast some hints on how to make this particular part of the story work better, but it feels to me that in its current state the show works in its 85% power which is still great but once you know there is something missing you can’t stop thinking about it and wishing the show would give you those 15% you crave.

#me being me #hadestown #thanks for coming to my ted talk #I still immensely enjoyed the production and would come see it again #but when you know the show at its fullest you seem to miss some parts that worked better #also I was able to appreciate the same cast from different angles the second time I could see them from the first row so I could #get a clear view of their acting #and don’t get me wrong Zach and Lauren are really interesting to watch and I liked them #but also I started thinking if it was my first time to watch the show would I understand the appeal of Hades/Persephone line?#and I can’t stop thinking about it #hades #Persephone #hadestown broadway #hadestown west end #it’s also not about WE only but just about some characterisations I saw from different actors in different productions #I just felt like it would be fair to compare to the production and cast I saw life because obviously bootlegs even the greatest are not #the same #thanks for reading this long post

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quillfulwhimsyverse · 7 months

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The Act of Faking

Word count: 7,2k

Summary: George is not talking to Fred, and the only way Fred thinks this can be salvageable, is by faking a relationship with you. Or when you hear his request - faking him having feelings for you.

Warnings: Angst towards the end.

A/N: I am literally going to kill myself. I had a plan for this to be the perfect slowed paced slow burn, were relationship builds slowly and beautifully but then I just ran out of ideas and this is what happened. And to remind you - English is not my first language so most of the times I just stared at the page trying to come up with different descriptions rather than using the ones everybody knows by heart. So I am sorry. Please enjoy.

P.S I am very sad that I found out about the "5 Acts of Play " stature at the end of writing this one-shot. I could've used it to make the story more interesting. But oh fucking well… _______________________________

One thing that everybody in Hogwarts knew, - the Weasley twins were always together. One never went anywhere without another. They also never had any serious arguments, only slight disagreements that seemed to be forgotten pretty soon after.

That was why you currently frowned looking at the door. Fred came into the Great Hall looking tired, confused and disappointed to say the least. You closed your book, your interest peaking. He only looked like that when he'd gotten himself into detention that overlaps with Quidditch practice.

‘So what happened to you?’ you asked as Fred moved to sit in front of you at the Gryffindor table. He looked really upset. ‘Prank gone wrong?’

‘No, I wish tho.’ He sighed. ‘It’s George. I haven’t had a single conversation with him for what seems like days.’

‘You never fight.’ you mentioned, as Fred was taking a gulp of juice from your glass.

"We haven’t gotten into a fight, Y/N, he just dumbly avoids me. When I try to talk to him, he mumbles something about guilt trips and at the next moment he’s gone.’ He started fidgeting with his wand.

‘How come? Why would he “guilt trip”?’

“Well our dear best friend, Geroge,” Fred mumbled irritably, for a moment you thought he might snap, “had gotten himself a girlfriend, bet you didn’t know that, right?” you only nodded. “Well apparently nobody knew, including me.”

“Yeah…” you bit your lip. “I still don’t see what the problem is.”

“I will tell you what the problem is… The problem is that I accidentally caught him snogging Angelina off in the Quidditch pitch.” You looked at him trying not to show too much emotion. “That wanker wanted to keep it a secret, because he thought I might get hurt.”

“Well, I kinda understand why he kept it a secret.” You waited for his reaction, but he only looked at you blankly, waiting for you to continue. “Weren’t you, like, in love with her a couple of years ago?”

“Yeah, so?” he shook his head. “ I was, that’s the point, Y/N. Was. I am not. Not anymore. I wouldn’t care if they got married tomorrow.” He rested his head in his hands, slowly massaging his forehead.

“Have you told him this?”

“Yeah… Like a dozen bloody times. He doesn’t believe me, though. Says “I am only saying this to make him feel better.” How many times, do ya reckon, I would have to repeat this to make him believe it?”

“Hmmm..” you thought for a second. “Just give him a bit of time, maybe that will solve something?” you suggested.

“Just give him time…” he repeated your words to you. “How do you assume I should do that? With the Christmas holiday upcoming? Although, I think he would rather spend the whole time with the gnomes instead of me in the same room.”

You stayed silent for a moment. Now that you have thought about it, you haven’t seen George for a couple of days too.

“But.” Fred lifted his eyebrows and took a deep breath.” I have a little plan.” He quickly reached for his bag and pulled a letter out of it. “ This morning I got a letter from my mother, about my bad behavior in class and yada yada yada, but she did mention inviting you to stay over during holidays. And this, dear Y/N, sparked a thought in me.”

You shifted uncomfortably on the bench.

“You and I,” he pointed towards you and then towards himself. “We are going to fake being in a relationship. Over your stay at The Burrow.”

“Fred.” you snapped quickly. “You’re crazy.”

“Why? I mean, it’s a good plan. Angelina will be going home during holidays, and George will be forced to be with his family instead, and we’re going to pull a little show for him, just enough, so he would drop this stupid avoidance game he is playing.”

You frowned at your best friend.

“You have a perfect opportunity to talk to him during the holidays and you want to spend it playing a pretend game?” you ask him as he nods. “Yeah, well there is a slight problem in your plan. We have never ever acted romantically towards each other, and George isn’t so stupid, he won’t believe it. He spent so much time with both of us together, so he will notice that there’s just no spark, or whatever.”

“That is exactly where you are going to help me,” he stated. “Your mother is muggle, right? You mentioned once that she is really into those romantic books muggle people read? What do you call them? Noveelies?”

“Novels, Fred.”

“Yeah, whatever, not the point. You said you were into them when you were younger. So what I’m trying to say is that you will help me put this act together, so it looks convincing.”

You look agape at him.

“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?”

“I had too much time on my hands with my brother successfully avoiding me, I’ve even opened the Transfiguration book a couple of times out of boredom. Closed it pretty soon after, it was even more boring than doing absolutely nothing.”

“Still, Fred, no. It’s your whole family that will notice this as well and I don’t want to lie to Molly. And anyways, how would explain the sudden break up after the Holidays. And… Oh my god… Ron and Ginny will literally tease me to death. This is a really stupid plan, Fred, no one is going to believe it anyway. Just think of something else, I dunno, talk to Angie and make her help you out or something.”

“How am I supposed to talk to Angelina when she is almost always with George nowadays? I knew you would think the plan is stupid, but look - you are my best friend, right? I know you inside out, it would be much easier to pretend we’re in love.”

You look skeptically at him. You wanted to help him, you really did, but this plan was bound to fail one way or another. You very well knew how he flirts and acts with other girls, the last thing you wanted - to accidentally fall for him for his stupid act.

“No.” You started packing your book into your bag, not looking at him.

“Then at least let me act as if I had fallen for you, you won’t have to do anything, just help me out to put the act together, so it looks convincing enough for George, c’mon, Y/N, you know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” You let your eyelids fall a little more over your eyes while he speaks. “It’s either this or I am going to do something even more stupid.”

You let your head lull back.

“Alright.” you sight. “But.” You quickly state. “Embarrass me, Weasley, and you will have two people not talking to you.” He rolls his eyes and then determinedly looks at you.

“Okay, so how am I supposed to pull this off?” You look at him in frustration. “What? I need step by step guidance.”

“I am gonna tell you this once. You miss it, I won’t repeat it. It is extremely stupid and why do I even… Aren’t you like a huge flirt and tease? Why would I need to teach you how…” He gave you a warning look and you shut yourself up real quick. “Oh, for Merlin's sake, okay.”

He nodded. You gave yourself a moment to think it through, and he let you, keeping everything he wanted to say to himself.

“Because this will be coming from literally nowhere, you must be really subtle at first.” He opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him. “ I know, you don’t know how to be subtle, so just gaze at me from time to time during the dinner or whenever you’ll be sure George notices.”

“So all I have to do is just look at you from time to time?”

“No, you muppet. I called it a gaze for a reason. You know? Staring at someone you find admiring?” He slightly shook his head, his ginger hair falling over his brown eyes. “Or just someone you find unbelievably pretty?” He still looked at you a bit dumbfounded. “Fred, you do it when you think about Quidditch and pranks.” He smirked, red tinting his cheeks.

“Okay, loverrr…” you deliberately said the last word as slowly as possible, teasing him intentionally, hoping he might have a change of heart and call this plan off. “We will call this “Act Number One.” In case you fail convincing George with this one, we will move on to the “Act Number Two.” Where you will seek close proximity.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Step over the line with this one, Fred, and I will hex you.”

He raises his hand into the air. “Whatever you’ll say, Ma’am.”

“You will have to be subtle with this too. Otherwise it will just be whatever you do here, in Hogwarts on a daily basis. Try to sit next to me when the dinner is ready, try and fix my hair slightly or something, you will figure it out as you go.Then there is gonna be “Act Number Three”, I believe, you will need no assistance on this one - teasing. No comment on this one. I think this should do the job.” You look at him blankly, something about this makes you irritated and anxious.

“And what if after all of this, he still won’t be on no speaking terms with me?”

“Then an actor's career won't be suitable for you.”

Act Nr. 1

Your stay at The Burrow began shortly after the plan was devised. You had urged Fred to attempt a conversation with George before enacting the plan, and in the presence of Molly and Arthur, all appeared well between the brothers, they even shared a joke about Ron’s owl Gigwidgeon. However, once left alone, their relationship reverted to its former state. And you knew that it was a matter of hours before Freds attempt at Act One.

And indeed, your prediction proved accurate. The scene unfolded during dinner, just as you had anticipated. While engaged in conversation with Ginny, who sat to your right, Arthur kindly addressed you, prompting you to look left, up at him.

“Y/N, Fred shared the fact that your mother is a muggle,” you nodded looking at him. “How fascinating.” Arthur remarked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I recently got a hold on this little thing..” he reached for his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “What exactly is this?” He held it with the tips of his thumb and forefinger as if it was a little wand. “I’ve seen it ignite flames. Is it some sort of muggle magic wand, huh?”

You couldn't help but giggle at Arthur's question, but your attention soon shifted to Molly, who cast her husband a warning glance. Unbeknownst to you, Fred's focus shifted to you, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he observed the interaction.

“Not quite, Mr. Weasley,” you replied with a smile. “It's called a cigarette. It contains an addictive substance called nicotine, which people often smoke to alleviate stress or tension.”

“Really, Dad,” Bill interjected with a laugh, “Mum will be reaching for one of those every time you mention something from the Muggle world at the dinner table.”

Suddenly, Fred erupted into laughter, his eyes dancing with amusement as he directed his gaze towards you. “Well, would you look at that,” he exclaimed, drawing the attention of everyone at the table, yet his eyes were locked on you. “Our dear Y/N, the epitome of innocence, enlightening our dear old Dad about the vices of the Muggle realm.”

You shook slightly, your eyes widening a bit. What was he doing? But he only laughed at your widened eyes, the mischievous glint in his eyes indicating that he was teasing you, trying to uplift the mood at the table.

As the Weasleys' laughter filled the room, you felt a warmth spread through you, despite the slight embarrassment of being the center of attention.

Ginny shot Fred a knowing look, her lips curling into a smirk. "Looks like someone's enjoying themselves a bit too much," she teased, earning another round of laughter from the group.

Fred caught your confused look as you were about to mouth him to watch what he’s doing, but he only winked at you.

After the dinner you jumped quickly on your legs to help Molly. When you went to roll up your sleeves to wash the dishes, Molly quickly stopped you with a light touch and smiled kindly. “Honey, the magic will take care of that, go ahead and rest on the couch with everybody.” She rushed you to the living room.

You turned back to look at the rest of the family: Arthur was explaining to Bill about some corruption that involved the Ministry of Magic and Gringotts Wizarding Bank; Ron and George were playing the wizards chess on the floor and by the look on George's face - Ron was winning. Ginny picked up a plate of cookies, murmuring that these were Percy’s favorite, so she had to offer some of him, so he wouldn’t starve himself to death with whatever he was doing as an exemplary Head Boy; and Fred seemed nowhere to be found.

You turned back to Molly. “My mother always said that magic was too precious to use it on simple daily tasks, that could simply be managed by humans.” She smiled gently at you and her eyes lifted a bit from your eyes.

At that exact moment you felt a heavy chins presence on your right shoulder. You turned your head towards it to see Fred's untidy red hair that was brushing your cheek slightly.

"Fred," you greeted softly, turning your head to meet his gaze.

His brown eyes sparkled with mischief as he grinned down at you.

"Hey there," he whispered, his voice low and intimate despite the bustling room around you.

A sense of ease washed over you in his company, a feeling you'd grown accustomed to over the years of friendship.

"Thought I'd join the party," he quipped, his breath warm against your ear.

“Go rest, you two,” Molly interrupted, “while I go and see where to lay you, Y/N. I hope you sharing a room with Ginny would be alright.”

“It’s perfectly fine. Thank you, Molly.”

Fred feigned a dramatic sigh, before nudging you gently towards the living room.

“You are not following the plan, Fred, you ran over all of the acts in one day.” you scolded him, but he laughed loudly.

“Y/N, darling, when was I ever following the rules?”

Act Nr. 2

For a couple of days, the plan appeared to be on hold. The Weasley children found themselves occupied with various tasks around The Burrow, and you willingly lent a hand wherever needed.

Whether it was assisting Molly with preparing meals in the bustling kitchen, helping Arthur mend a fence in the ramshackle backyard, or joining Ron and Ginny in tending to the garden, you immersed yourself in the daily rhythm of life at The Burrow. Once or twice you caught Fred gazing at you while he took a little break to drink some water or just to catch a breath.

However after the evening to a hold on the house and everybody seemed to be resting, gathered in the cozy living room of The Burrow, Fred subtly initiated Act Nr. 2 of the plan. With George engrossed in a conversation with Ron about Quidditch tactics, Fred seized the opportunity to position himself strategically closer to you on the worn-out couch.

With a casual yet deliberate movement, he shifted slightly, allowing his arm to brush against yours. You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow in silent amusement at his subtle maneuver. His response was a barely perceptible smirk, a silent acknowledgment of his progress in the plan.

Every now and then, he would lean in slightly, as if to share a secret or a whispered joke, his breath tickling your ear. Each time, you couldn't help but smile at his playful antics, a silent agreement between you to maintain the facade of blossoming feelings.

Just then, George's voice cut through the jovial atmosphere, interrupting the conversation about Quidditch tactics. "Oi, Fred," he called out, his tone tinged with a hint of mischief. "You're looking a bit too comfortable there, mate. Planning on falling asleep, are you?"

Fred's smirk widened, as if he had anticipated this exchange beforehand. He shot a playful glance at George, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Can't blame a bloke for seeking a bit of comfort, can you?" he retorted, his tone light-hearted.

George chuckled, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "Well, just don't go drooling on her shoulder, mate," he teased, earning a round of laughter from the others in the room.

You couldn't help but join in the laughter, though you felt a slight flush creeping up your cheeks at the playful banter. Fred's proximity and the teasing exchange sent a pleasant warmth coursing through you, despite the teasing scrutiny of the Weasley twins.

Although, ironically, as the evening wore on, the warmth of the fire and the gentle hum of conversation lulled you into a comfortable state of relaxation. Despite your best efforts to stay alert and engaged in the lively discussion, the cozy ambiance of The Burrow proved too inviting, and you found your eyelids growing heavy.

Unbeknownst to you, Fred noticed the subtle droop of your head as you began to nod off, a small smile playing on his lips at the sight. He leaned closer, discreetly adjusting his position to offer you more support, ensuring you were comfortable.

Meanwhile, George shot Fred a knowing grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he observed your gradual descent into sleep. "Looks like someone's had a long day," he remarked sotto voce, his tone filled with gentle jest.

Fred nodded in agreement, his gaze softening as he watched you drift off into slumber, a sense of warmth and protectiveness washing over him. He couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for you, his best friend, as he silently vowed to ensure you rested undisturbed for the remainder of the evening.

That was how Act Number two acted out.

Act Nr. 3?

You were seated on the kitchen table, a steaming cup of coffee cradled in your hands, lost in thought as you gazed out the window. You sent Molly off from the kitchen.

Outside, Molly stood with her hands on her hips, a hint of exasperation evident in her flushed face. Before her, Ginny, George and Bill exchanged mischievous grins, their laughter ringing out like bells in the crisp winter air.

“Are you two crazy? No scarves, no hats on. You are going to get sick.” She urged her children to get back in and dress properly for the weather.

In a moment of playful rebellion, George scooped up a handful of snow and molded it into a perfectly packed snowball. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he took aim and let it fly, intending to playfully tease his mother.

But fate had other plans.

In a twist of irony, just as Molly turned to face her son, the snowball found its mark, striking her squarely in the face with an unexpected impact. Time froze for a moment, the air thick with disbelief, before erupting into uproarious laughter, Molly's angry face told them enough and they all turned to get back inside.

“Had a good night's sleep, Y/n?” George's voice rang out as he entered through the door, his laughter trailing behind him like a mischievous echo. He shook his hair, sending a flurry of snow cascading onto the floor, much to Molly's disapproval.

Your cheeks flushed slightly as you slid off from the table, reaching for the teapot and mugs to distract yourself. "Alright," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, though your embarrassment spoke volumes.

"Only alright? I thought Fred tucked you in quite nicely." George's laughter filled the room, rich and hearty, as he winked at you. His playful jab struck a nerve, eliciting a mixture of amusement and discomfort. You turned away, feeling the weight of his teasing words lingering in the air, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within you.

As soon as they all settled down to enjoy a cup of tea, you seized the opportunity to slip away, making a beeline for Fred's whereabouts. But as you ascended up the stairs, he was going down, so you practically ran into each other.

"Oh, good," you exhaled, relief flooding through you at the sight of him. "I was looking for you."

Fred's smirk widened as he halted on the step above you, closing the distance between you almost imperceptibly. "Slept well?" he inquired, his tone laced with amusement.

Your brow furrowed slightly as you struggled to articulate your thoughts, the urgency to convey your concerns before the family downstairs didn’t get any ideas as to why you were standing on the stairs a moment too long. "Yeah, look," you began, your words tumbling out in a rush. "Why won’t you give this plan a little break? You seem to be talking again with George, and with the plan advancing at this pace, soon enough everybody will be asking about the relationship that doesn't exist."

"Darling, breathe," Fred intervened, his hands gently finding purchase on your shoulders as he chuckled. "You only fell asleep on me, so what? You’ve done this a million times in the common room, what’s the difference? But if you want to give it a breather, it’s fine too," he reassured, his expression softening with understanding.

However, instead of finding solace in his words, you recoiled slightly, evading his touch as you took a step back. His hands fell away from your shoulders, hanging awkwardly in the space between you as you sidestepped past him, eager to retreat to the safety of Ginny and your shared bedroom.

Fred's brow furrowed in concern as he watched you retreat, a pang of unease tugging at his heart. He hadn't anticipated that his attempt to reassure you would only seem to exacerbate your anxiety. For a fleeting moment, he considered reaching out to you again, wanting to offer further comfort, but he held back, sensing that you needed space.

Meanwhile, you hurriedly made your way to the bedroom you shared with Ginny, seeking refuge from the whirlwind of emotions that had been stirred up by your encounter with Fred. Once inside the familiar space, you sat on your bed burying your face in your hands, closing your eyes briefly as you attempted to steady your breathing.

You have indeed fallen asleep on each of the twins at least ten twenty times during your years at Hogwarts. And not once has the teasing afterwards bother you, but something about today sent you reeling. You were blushing madly and wished that that would stop. Maybe the whole plan you helped to build, was turning against you, and each, and every time Fred paid attention to you, finally started playing with your head.

You promised yourself to be a little more careful after that.

Act Nr. 4 - the improvised part.

The same night, you were roused from sleep by a gentle hand shaking your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N, you up?” Fred's voice, soft and filled with excitement, whispered through the darkness as he continued to shake you awake.

You groaned in annoyance, feeling disoriented from being pulled out of sleep. “What is it?” you muttered, your voice tinged with irritation.

“Remember that star we told you about? The one me and George discovered last summer?” Fred's tone was eager, like a child on Christmas morning, and you realized where this was headed.

“Yeah,” you replied, still half-asleep and struggling to grasp why he was waking you up in the middle of the night for a star.

“Well, come on. I found it again,” he urged, his excitement palpable even in the dim light of the room.

You hesitated, feeling reluctant to leave the warmth of your bed for a star. “Why would you wake me up for a star, Fred? It's just a star,” you grumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

But Fred was undeterred, his enthusiasm contagious as he handed you a pair of special goggles and gently grasped your wrist, guiding you outside into the chilly night air.

“Put these on and look straight up from where you're standing,” he instructed, his grip firm yet gentle as he positioned you in the right spot.

With a sigh, you relented, slipping the enchanted goggles over your eyes and following Fred's guidance. As you gazed upward, your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you.

The darkness of the night sky was transformed into a mesmerizing display of swirling colors, reminiscent of oil puddles reflecting light from muggle cars. It reminded you of the evening sky as the sun finally starts to set, bringing out the most vivid colors. The bright colors danced and twirled around in the star and all around it, creating an ethereal display that seemed to defy explanation. Shades of deep indigo melted into vibrant hues of sapphire and emerald, while streaks of crimson and gold streaked across the dark sky.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” asked Fred while you watched the view in silence. You took the goggles off and looked up again, seeing only small, little stars shining above you. “Well the other ones do not look that extraordinary, but somehow that one does. And it comes up like three or four times a year. It’s a miracle it came up over your stay here.”

You turned to look at him. “It's really beautiful, Fred. I’m glad you woke me up.”

He gently stroked your arms to make you a little bit warmer as you continued to shake due to the cold of the winter's night.

When Fred retrieved back into his room, he smiled like a dumbass. When you got back inside you asked him if he had named that star and with a gentle smile he asked you to come up with a name for it.

“Where have you been?” Apparently George wasn’t asleep when Fred got back, and curiosity won over George.

“Out.”

“You showed her the star, didn’t you?” George chuckled slightly when his brother removed his clothing and fell backwards into his bed. “I noticed it appeared again yesterday.”

“I might have done that, yes.” Fred admitted with a sheepish grin.

George laughed. “Told her what you named it?”

“No, that would’ve been a bit embarrassing.”

George laughed loudly but then quickly stopped, before waking the whole house up. “You're hopeless, man. But I am happy for you.”

Fred quickly turned his head to look at his brother, even though through the dark he could only make out his silhouette. “So? Are you back on speaking terms with me?”

“Yeah, mate,” George chuckled, “I realized I was being dumb.”

Fred was happy. He genuinely was, but something about coming back to terms with his brother stopped him from feeling completely pleased with the situation.

Act Nr. 5

Act 5 unfolded on a brisk afternoon a couple of days later. The sun was casting long shadows across the snow-dusted grounds of The Burrow. The Weasleys were involved in their own activities. You specifically were interested in another bewitched muggle artifact Arthur promptly told you about, then he went on reading the letter from the Ministry again, completely forgetting about telling you anything afterwards. So you sat at the kitchen table, engrossed in a book. As you finally coughed up to where you left off, Fred entered the room with a lopsided grin.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted, his voice warm and inviting.

You glanced up from your book, offering him a small smile in return. "Hey, Fred. What's up?"

"I was thinking," he began, his tone casual yet tinged with excitement, "why don't we take a walk outside? It's a perfect day for it."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. "A walk? Now?"

Fred nodded eagerly. "Yeah, come on. It'll be fun. We can explore the woods behind The Burrow. I heard there's a hidden clearing with the most amazing view."

Despite your initial skepticism, you found yourself unable to resist Fred's infectious enthusiasm. With a shrug, you closed your book and rose from the table. "Alright, why not? Lead the way."

As you ventured into the woods together, Fred regaled you with stories and anecdotes, his laughter echoing through the trees. With each step, you felt yourself relaxing in his company.

Eventually, you reached the hidden clearing Fred had mentioned, and you couldn't help but gasp in awe at the breathtaking view before you. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the landscape, while a gentle breeze whispered through the trees.

"It's beautiful," you murmured, your eyes scanning the scenery.

Fred grinned, his gaze fixed on you. "Not as beautiful as you," he replied softly.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat at his words. But before you could respond, George's voice rang out from behind you.

"Hey, lovebirds!" he called, his tone teasing. "What are you two up to?"

Your confusion turned to disappointment as you realized that Fred's affectionate words were likely just another one of his improvised acts. With a forced smile, you turned to face your friend, masking your disappointment behind a facade of nonchalance.

"Just enjoying the view," you replied, your voice lacking its usual warmth.”Care to join?”

As George joined you in the clearing, the moment between you and Fred faded into the background, leaving you grappling with the lingering sting of disappointment and confusion.

As the days passed quickly in The Burrow, the atmosphere seemed to settle into a familiar rhythm, apart from that, the twins seemed to get back into their close relationship, which made you extremely happy.

Once or twice Fred would act out your made up plan and gaze at you during the day at dinner or whenever you were near each other. You, of course, didn’t expect anything more than that, understanding that now the two brothers were back to their old selves and your interactions with Fred were purely out of keeping the act just for George. But that did not change the fact that the shift happened within you. You spend more and more time thinking how everything will play out in the end when you get back to Hogwarts. How you will be sitting there, in the common room, pretending not to notice how Fred flirts with other girls and then returns to you to boast about it. This held a tight grip over your heart, making your chest feel heavy.

There you were, sitting on the couch, watching Ron make the wrong move and lose his bishop in the process, Ginny bobbing her head happily whilst laying on the ground.

“George just now told me that you don’t know how to play chess,” Fred sat down next to you, accidentally knocking several chess figures of the ground.

“OIII!” Ron shouted. “Watch what you’re doing.”

“Sorry, mate.” Fred laughed and dramatically reached for the queen on the ground and put it back on board in the wrong spot. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You turned to him, shifting back from your thoughts to reality.

Fred raised his eyebrow and laughed. “What were you thinking so deeply about? Me?” he teased and you felt his hand reach for your own. As he tried to intervene your fingers together you quickly pulled your arm away from him and stood up. No matter how angry this made you, you tried not to give it away. You felt sickened to your stomach. The action was small. But for some reason it was enough for you. This went too far, the act he was doing and suddenly there was no going back, everything went from too early to too late to stop this stupid lie, and the only thing you dreaded for - happened. It was your own fault, you agreed to this.

“Just remembered, I haven’t reached out for my parents for a while now,” you mumbled and left the room to actually write to your parents and ask if you could get back home from The Burrow earlier than planned.

The Finale

You were folding your clothes and putting them back in your trunk, while Ginny watched you from her bed.

“Did they really ask you to go back home?” She asked once again in disbelief. You nodded. “They always let you stay as long as you want.”

“Yeah, I guess something happened back home.” You lied without looking back up at her.

“Did you tell Fred? That you’re going back home?” She sat up, while you stopped packing and thought for a moment whether you should tell her the truth. “You haven’t,” she said, quite shocked. “Why? The boy’s going to go mad.”

“I really don’t think so,” you mumbled.

“But he will tho,” spoke George standing in between the door, his arms crossed on his chest, he looked disappointed.

You paused, feeling the weight of George's words sinking in. Despite your efforts to convince yourself otherwise, deep down, you knew he was right. Fred would indeed be affected by your departure, you were his best friend, nevertheless.

Ginny shot her twin a sympathetic glance before turning back to you. "He's right, you know. Fred may not show it, but he'll definitely be upset."

You sighed, feeling a pang of guilt gnawing at your conscience. "I know," you admitted reluctantly. "But I need to sort things out back home."

“No, you don’t.” Said George again firmly. He looked quite mad now. “Considering the fact that it was you, who asked your parents to go back home early, not the other way around.”

“Uhmm… How do you?...” You stammered, caught off guard by George's accusation. His words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and disbelief.

Ginny's expression softened, her eyes filled with concern as she glanced between you and George. "George, calm down," she interjected gently, trying to diffuse the tension that crackled in the room.

But George remained undeterred, his gaze fixed firmly on you. "How do I know?" he repeated, his voice low and intense. "Because you accidentally used the quill we use for pranks. It creates two messages as it writes, one to your recipient, second to its owner, and that would be me and Fred, only I got the hold of the message first.”

You hid your face in your hands, embarrassed.

“Then,” George continued, “I assumed Fred had done something stupid once again and pressed him until he told me everything, And when I say everything, I mean it. Merlin's beard, Y/N, I thought Fred was daft, but turns out this friendship with us made you daft too.”

“Ummmm?” Ginny interrupted. “Mind to elaborate a little bit?”

Ginny's interruption brought a momentary pause to the tense atmosphere in the room. George sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to find the right words.

"Well," he began, glancing at you briefly before continuing, "apparently our dear Y/N here concocted a plan to get Fred and me talking again. She thought we needed a little nudge to mend our relationship, so she came up with this whole scheme of them faking a relationship."

Ginny's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You did what?" she exclaimed, turning to you with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity.

“First of all,” you raised your finger angrily at George, “ it wasn’t my idea, Fred came up with it. Secondly, it wasn’t a fake relationship,” you said angrily, “it was for you to believe he had feelings for me so you would drop your stupid not talking to Fred phase, because you thought he was still in love with your girlfriend. So in the end, who is to blame?” you asked him.

Ginny looked from you to George. She was sitting dumbfounded, and if it wasn’t for the angry looks on your and George's faces, she would’ve started laughing.

“Okay, it was stupid, I agree with you,” George mumbled. “But you're as thick as it gets, Y/N.”

“Why am I the thick one?”

“Because you actually thought Fred would fake having feelings for you,” these words from George stung like a slap in the face, the truth of them hitting you harder than you anticipated. You felt a surge of embarrassment and hurt wash over you, realizing how naively you had fallen for Fred's act. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Even Ginny’s mouth fell open.

“George…” she murmured silently.

“What? Wasn’t he like in love with her for a couple of years?” He said angrily. “And then you,” he pointed towards you, “went on and let him continue this charade and now because you can’t take it anymore, you’re leaving. Of course this is going to upset him.”

You tried to say something, you really tried, but words just did not form inside your head.

Thank the spirits, cause it was Ginny who spoke after. “No, George, wait. I don’t think she knew.”

You met Ginny's eyes, grateful for her unwavering support in this moment of turmoil.

“I… I didn’t know,” you finally managed to utter, your voice barely above a whisper, but each word weighed heavy with sincerity. “I didn’t realize... I thought...” Your voice trailed off, the words catching in your throat as you struggled to articulate the whirlwind of emotions that churned within you. “I genuinely thought that he was doing it for you. I was leaving because I didn’t want to…” the words died out from your mouth and you didn’t finish your sentence.

“I didn’t want to end up hurt afterwards. I assumed he only saw me as his best friend and the act would die out eventually when we got back to Hogwarts.”

The snort from George interrupted the silence that followed after your sentence. “You and Fred must be two of the dumbest people I know. Y/N, he named a star after you, you were more than his best friend for a while now.”

“Oi, mate, not nice to throw me under the bus like that,” Fred quipped, entering the room with a lopsided grin.

You turned to him, quite in shock.

“And I think this is our cue to leave,” said Ginny gently, sending a wink to you and grabbing George by his forearm to lead him out of the room.

“Complete idiots,” George managed to yell whilst leaving.

Fred chuckled, stepping closer to you. "Ignore him, love. He's just jealous because he hasn't named a star after anyone yet."

“I am extremely confused, Fred.”

Fred's grin softened into a gentle smile as he reached out to take your hand in his and intervene your fingers together. He smiled as you let him. "I know, Y/N. It's been a bit of a mess, hasn't it?"

You nodded, still trying to process everything that had unfolded.

"I promise to explain everything properly," Fred reassured you, his eyes earnest and sincere.

Fred took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he began to explain. "Okay, so... I know this whole situation might seem incredibly confusing, but there are a few things you need to know." He paused, searching your eyes for any sign of understanding before continuing.

"Firstly, yes, I did come up with the plan to pretend to have feelings for you, but it wasn't just to mend things between George and me. It was also because..." He hesitated, his expression turning earnest. "Well, because I actually thought I might kill two birds with one stone.”

Confusion flickered across your face as you processed his words. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Fred took a deep breath, steeling himself before he continued. "I mean, yes, the initial idea was to help George and me patch things up by making him think I had feelings for you. But... it was also a way for me to... explore my own feelings for you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. "You mean... you actually do have feelings for me?" you asked, your voice barely audible.

Fred nodded, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes. "Yeah, I do. I've liked you for a while now, Y/N. I just didn't know how to tell you."

Emotions swirled inside you, a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and a flicker of hope. "But... why didn't you just tell me?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.

Fred sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I was scared, Y/N. Before our friendship even began, you seemed to be annoyed everytime I approached you. I am not even going to mention the looks you gave me when I tried to flirt with you. Then I dropped it, I thought you weren’t interested and it proved me right, cause quickly after you joined our trio. (A/N: We can not forget our Lee.)”

“I thought you saw me as one of these girls you always flirt with, I thought you were being a tease for your own entertainment.”

Fred's expression softened as he listened to your words, a tinge of regret coloring his features. "Y/N, I understand why you might have thought that. And I'm sorry if I ever gave you that impression.”

“But why did George think you were still into Angelina?”

“Because before you came into the picture I kinda liked her. And we got along pretty well, I just did not realize at the time she was being extra friendly with me, cause she liked George. Then you came along and my feelings changed. I mentioned them to George once or twice and then dropped it. Didn’t want to annoy him, didn’t want to hear him tease me when you joined our friend group. When he fell for Angelina, he must’ve overthought everything. But he kinda put everything together after I returned to our room after I showed you your star.” He raised his free hand and gently tucked your stray strand of hair over your ear, and then pressed his hand over your cheek, to which you leaned in.

“Pretty soon after you arrived, you fell asleep on me, literally in front of everybody,” you closed your eyes in embarrassment as he spoke, he started softly caressing your cheek, “I thought you finally started to catch on, but you asked me to put the plan on hold, and I genuinely got scared I was pushing you away with the way I acted.”

“I am so sorry for not catching on sooner, for avoiding you…” you tried to explain yourself, but Fred interrupted you.

Fred shook his head, his expression tender. "No apologies necessary, Y/N. You did what I asked you. I hope you will now understand that everything was sincere.”

You closed your eyes again and as lovingly as possible said, “And I hope you will understand that I sincerely fell for you.”

He laughed as he leaned in closer, “I got that while you were having a little chit chat with my brother, otherwise it would’ve been me who stayed over with the gnomes.” He looked deeply into your eyes as if asking if it was alright, you slightly nodded, so he closed that little space that was left between you and kissed you.

#fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x you #fake relationship #slow burn #harry potter #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one-shot #fred x reader #fred

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spideyhexx · 4 months

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kit's tbosas notes

here are my notes from reading the first five chapters of tbosas <3 this includes quotes I particularly picked out/thoughts as I read! if you want to discuss anything, pls send any thoughts!

CHAPTER 1

Starting off with Coryo & Cabbage immediately made me think about the beginning of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory which starts the same way, where it's making sure you KNOW he's poor.

Memories of looking at picture books with his mother...no thoughts on this, it just made me sad.

"But better off sad, than dead...," (Pg. 5) - ARE YOU SURE CORIOLANUS

"As if controlling one element of his world would keep him from ruin," (Pg. 7) - Suzanne is telling us everything right from the beginning. Tendency to obsession! He seeks control because he didn't have that for his entire childhood.

Communications Professor - Satyria Click favored Coryo and he's the TA for that class.

Coryo considers flaking over a shirt as the most relatable thing as someone who also deals with anxiety and being meticulous. More on that, there is so much to be known about him in just the first few pages, how perfectionist he is, how badly he tears himself down over image, how much he hates his status...

Tigris is so exceptionally sweet, that it hurts!

He's pricked by a rose immediately and I don't take that moment lightly, that's deeper than it comes off.

I must have forgot reaping day was on July 4th but that's insane.

"LOVE THE BANGS." - Coriolanus is a kiss-up

Gymnasium Mistress is such a silly title - Agrippina Sickle - SEJANUS IS THE TA

Pg. 17 - Sejanus and his soulful brown eyes! Josh comes right off the page as Sejanus, what perfect casting.

There is disdain and camaraderie from Coriolanus' POV regarding Sejanus. He's playing with him but he also kind of likes that?

Coriolanus' first dialogue with Sejanus is about working out.

"Ma? Was Coriolanus' place about to be usurped by someone who referred to his mother as Ma?" (Pg. 20) - Coriolanus being funny.

CHAPTER 2

Coriolanus singing the national anthem in a forceful voice, getting nods of approval over it, and immediately thinking, "It was pathetic," is the most relatable thing I have ever heard. (Pg. 23)

"his insult," referring to Lucy Gray (pg. 25)

Mayfair wetting herself from the snake.

"There was something vaguely familiar about her but disturbing about her," (Pg. 25) - more than just the circus memories he has in this moment.

Sejanus immediately calling that Lucy Gray being chosen was rigged is so interesting to me? The fact he picked up on that out of anyone.

"Don't cry," - CORYO

"Coriolanus wondered if, like him, they were hoping she'd keep singing," (Pg. 29) - he's already in so deep

"But his brain had developed properly; at least he hoped it had," (Pg. 34) - funny coryo

The entire scene of Highbottom insulting Coriolanus is much sadder here in the book than in the film due to the sole fact of what happened before. Coriolanus so badly wants pie, even thinking about getting two slices and after Highbottom insults him, Coriolanus just wants to leave the Academy, he completely disregards how much he wants to eat after he's mocked. Also Coriolanus not knowing why Highbottom hates him? And thinking it's the nickname the students call him. Interesting.

First the threat of losing his apartment, then the lowliest tribute assignment -- who, on further reflection, was definitely crazy..." (Pg. 36) - I actually thought he was gonna say something nice here for some reason.

CHAPTER 3

"As you always say, your roses open any doors," (Pg. 38) - he never forgot this.

Remus Dolittle - Game-maker in training, who lives below Coriolanus

"She was terrifying really. And here he was in his uniform, clutching a rose like some lovesick schoolboy, hoping she would -- what? Like him? Trust him? Not kill him on sight?" (Pg. 39) - thought this was funny.

Coryo waited three hours!!! He felt a mix of pity and revulsion at the tributes.

Coriolanus believing his gravelly voice from not speaking for hours had a nice maturity to it (Pg. 42)

Lucy Gray calls him gorgeous.

He clocks Lucy Gray 'performing' from the get-go (Pg. 42) - and on that note, Lucy Gray feels so much more mysterious in the book since we're inside Coriolanus' head, she comes off as like an enigma and I really do love the discussion of how she is using him almost as much as he's using her. Of course, Coriolanus has worse moments than in regards to her, but she is performing for a lot of this.

I like the change that he sneaks onto the truck in the movie instead of Peacekeepers giving him permission.

"He remembered she carried snakes in her pocket and the usual rules didn't apply to her," (Pg. 43) - funny Coryo

In the truck scene with the tributes, I think the film had better lines (dialogue), especially from Coriolanus

He's a pampered poodle!

"Coriolanus resorted to the one move that had yet to fail him in schoolyard scuffles, driving his knee up hard into his opponent's crotch," (Pg. 45) - okay 1, WHAT SCHOOLYARD SCUFFLES WAS CORYO GETTING INTO and 2, I like that they took this out from the film because it would characterize him more on knowing how to fight at least somewhat but I feel like it strengthens what happens when he kills a tribute in the arena to not see him be violent in any regard beforehand.

"After Lucy Gray's wink, it might be worthwhile to stay," (Pg. 47) - CRAZY, OKAY CORYO!

CHAPTER 4

"HIS GIRL," (Pg. 49) - he's so possessive immediately

"Who were all these people hanging around on a weekday at the zoo? Didn't they have jobs? Shouldn't the children be in school? No wonder the country was such a mess," (Pg. 49) - Coryo continues to be funny

"All the faces...began to blur...his limbs felt numb, his lungs starved for air...he felt immense relief that he was not entirely alone...," (Pg. 49) - This whole section is so key in his character and his immediate liking/trust to Lucy Gray. First, he goes into a panic attack over the situation, and she's the one to ground him and calm him, which we learn later he usually calms down at night with his mother's rose powder scent in the compact and it's just making me think about how he misses that presence or a presence that can ground him and Lucy Gray does that without him even asking.

Coryo felt a spark and a burst of charisma from holding her hand AND she gripped his hand like a vice despite her outward appearance being so calm and confident (Pg. 50)

Lepidus Malmsey - Capitol News

"tried for likable with a hint of roguishness," (Pg. 53) - okay, Coryo

"He thought the combination of cohorts and unceremoniously had just the right note of superiority," (Pg. 54-55) - thinking of himself as superior to the Peacekeepers and also showing his perfectionism even within what words he chooses. He's so pretentious.

Io Jasper adored Coriolanus

"the smell of formaldehyde triggered his gag reflex," (Pg. 55) -wrote this down because I'm a teen boy/j

Coriolanus watched Gaul melt the flesh off of a rat at NINE!!!

Boa Bell is the sweetest name for a cat, I'm in love. She loved Coryo!!! And consoled him :(

"it upset him to think of Boa Bell ending up in the lab," (Pg. 58)

Coriolanus remembers Lucy Gray's words about owning it to help with talking to Gaul and Highbottom. She's so in his head already.

"Coriolanus would have to review the Academy student guide so he could object to the punishment," (Pg. 61) - he's so anxious and particular and insane

CHAPTER 5

he and Lucy Gray were the stars...okay Coriolanus!

"What was Sejanus up to? Was he trying to outdo him and steal the day's thunder?" (Pg. 63) - Coriolanus!!!

Also "that girl wasn't even his tribute," (Pg. 63) - referring to Dill. Sejanus trying to hand out food to anyone. This is such a good way of characterizing him as being sympathetic towards all of them, not just Marcus.

"His dog in a fight," (Pg. 68) - Coriolanus is referring to Lucy Gray here...he's so contradictory because he does make comments about knowing they're not 'animals' and he treats Lucy Gray as a normal human, but then his thoughts reflect more of this! The way he doesn't question it though is a testament to how it's been drilled into his head.

Coriolanus broke his denial of eating after seeing the ketchup in Lucy Gray's sandwich

He gets flustered after openly admitting to Lucy Gray of not having much food at home!!! I feel like the film lost out on so much character for Coryo in regards to his relationship with food because it is so important in almost every chapter. Also, him admitting it this quick to her is another point in showing how he's gained trust for her so quick. He calls himself an idiot over telling her.

"but this caressed his brain, calling her from the depths," (Pg. 71) - referring to Lucy Gray's song as it reminded him of a song his mother sang, then Coryo goes into the backstory of her death. There really is a connection between the love his mother gave him and his relationship with Lucy Gray.

he smells the rose powder when he has trouble sleeping :( this was all such a sad passage to read but especially, "it never failed to calm him with the memory of how it had felt to be loved like that," (Pg. 71) - Like that's very tragic.

The entire conversation with Sejanus, I'm still thinking about it but. It's clear Coriolanus is manipulating his own thoughts with how he sees Sejanus' actions, like Coriolanus almost can't fathom Sejanus is saying/doing things out of the mere goodness of his heart. And if Coriolanus does believe that, he sees it as stupid. And he sees Sejanus' actions as not being grateful for what he has. So at the end of it, Coriolanus is just jealous and spiteful.

"Lucy Gray was one thing belonging to Coriolanus that he [Sejanus] would never, ever get," (Pg. 75) - absolutely wild thing but this goes back to what was said in chapter one!!! Coriolanus wants to be able to control something and add into it what he feels towards Sejanus, it's amplified right now because he has the ability to deprive Sejanus of what he's asking for.

#kit talks #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg #coriolanus snow #suzanne collins #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #tigris snow #president snow #coryo snow #hunger games #thg series

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geekundercover · 6 months

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X-Men ‘97 episode 1x3 thoughts! Just wanted to elaborate a bit on some of the stuff we saw in Madelyne’s hellscape, namely the nightmare visions for Gambit and Morph, since it feels like there’s some room to interpret with those two as compared to the other members that have had their inner conflicts explored a bit already or are pretty straightforward.

With Gambit, the vision of Rogue and Magneto does seem to go beyond ‘the woman I love is hooking up with another man’ and hits at some deeper insecurity about himself and his character. The vision of Rogue is calling him out as not a good person, not a worthy person, at least not compared to Magneto. It seems like deep down, Gambit does feel an admiration for Magneto despite their previous status as enemies; he’s convicted, he’s a leader, he’s a savior of mutants, and some part of Gambit ranks himself as lesser by comparison, just a ‘nasty, thieving critter’. Magneto is a hero, and by implication, Gambit is not. That’s kinda sad to think about, since Gambit has helped save the world multiple times at this point and has made plenty of selfless actions in the process, but he has always held himself at a bit of a remove from the team and the cause they’re fighting for. Maybe that’s finally starting to get to him, or maybe has always bugged him on some level but his difficulties with trust have never let him overcome that self-enforced distance. If this is laying the groundwork for some sort of character arc, one where Gambit does seek to become more of what he sees as a worthy man, more of a hero, and whether or not that takes a positive or negative trajectory for him, I’m super interested to see it.

As for Morph... Listen, I've been making Morph x Wolverine jokes just like everyone else, they've been Like That since the OG series, but at this point I'm genuinely and seriously sure that Morph is in love with Logan and that's the core of their nightmare vision. Sure, the obvious terror fuel is their Sinister-based trauma, but listen to what Sinister said to them and the context in which he said it: They just left a conversation where they, Logan, and Gambit were discussing relationship woes, and after Logan ditched them to go check on Jean, they looked bummed and said "and then there was Morph." Left alone. Then the visions start, and Morph gets a very naked Logan posing sexily in the shower. Sure they try to make a very "boys in the locker room" sort of joke out of it, but come on Morph, there is no heterosexual explanation (and I do not say that lightly) for going to bug your buddy in the shower by offering to help him with "hard to reach spaces." Then the Sinister quote: "Always with the jokes, eh, Morph? As if I don't know. As if we ALL don't know." I genuinely think Morph is mega gay for Wolverine and is trying to hide it from everyone badly. They may all be mutants, but it is still the 90s, and just because they all have being a mutant in common with each other doesn't mean they're all on the same page in terms of queerness. Again, if this is the case, it's sad to think about. At this point in the animated canon, Morph and Wolverine make FAR more sense as a pairing than Logan and Jean ever did. Logan never gave up on Morph after they were brainwashed in the OG series, went to the literal ends of the earth to bring them back home, so it's no wonder if Morph caught Big Feelings about it but is scared to actually be honest about them.

#x-men 97

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dyaz-stories · 10 days

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Hey there! Just wanna know, what the heck happened in the JJK manga? Is it already over? Did the characters FINALLY mourn Gojo?! I gave up trying to read the manga after 236, so I just decided to randomly hear from others. But anyways, what happened??

Hey there! BOY AM I HAPPY TO DISCUSS THAT.

(I'm sorry I have so many thoughts and you've given me an excuse to ramble so this is going to be long)

There are two chapters left in the manga, it will end on September 30th. The chapter that just came out, chapter 269, was, however, really bad imo and a terrible use of time considering how little time Gege has left. I get that he had to wrap up quick, but in my personal opinion, it's inexplicable that he'd dedicate a whole chapter to what we just saw.

(More under the cut with spoilers for chapter 269)

Okay, so, the characters spend half the chapter arguing about how they could have done a better job fighting Sukuna, even though at this point, the losses are minimal. Most of the characters who were possibly dead are fine and dandy actually (Yuta, Higuruma, Todo, Kusakabe). Choso is still dead, but he gets a little line about how that's sad (and his death scene was really good and effective, so I'm not that mad about it, even if he's a character I really loved).

It kinda feels like Gege is justifying the way the fight went, which is a bit weird. In story, I think this could make sense if it was fueled by grief and loss and more of a "this person could have been saved! and this person didn't have to die!", but it feels kind of matter of fact tbh, with Maki being pretty much the only one displaying emotions. Even she seems to be arguing about efficiency, not really about saving human lives? Other characters' responses aren't much better. Yuuji in particular looks like he's super numb to everything, which again, yes, that's a trauma response, but it doesn't make for interesting storytelling and it's not going to be explored further, so... what's the point.

Also think that Yuta desecrating Gojo's corpse isn't explored enough. He did something horrifying that turned to not be that useful — going with the manga's message that the end doesn't justify the means — and he seems fine. I guess Maki yelling at him could be explained by the fact that she was strongly against this action, but it's never made explicit, which is a shame. (think it's more implied it's because he endangered himself and she has feelings for him)

The other half of the chapter is spent on a plot point that I don't think had been developed before that, about the new shadow style. This feels like the last arc Gege wanted to have and Sukuna's fight went on for too long so he had to scrap it. The point is essentially that the head of the new shadow style school is trying to become the head of Jujutsu Society as a whole now that the clans have collapsed. There was a binding vow that made it so the head of the school could steal years from people who had learned the style and add it to their lifespan. Anyway, Mei Mei steps in and makes it so the style can become more widely used.

(If you're bored reading that, yeah, so was I)

It's not useless exactly — it definitely goes towards the manga's message of ending the cycle and starting off with a clean slate, so that's a win — but it feels super rushed. It didn't have to be rushed, could have been a decent arc, it just isn't, and again, I don't think that's a great use of pages this late in the story.

Last but not least, Gojo. Gojo gets two mentions in this chapter.

The second one is in passing, when Hakari defends Yuta's usefulness.

And the first one, oooh boy the first one,

is about how this was all Gojo's fault from the get-go anyway 😃

And again, some nuance here. Kusakabe specifically says that the kids have nothing to apologize for — which I agree with. His point is that it was Gojo's responsibility to kill Yuuji. Essentially, the idea is that he was the adult, and in not doing that, he's responsible for the kids having to live with all the consequences of his actions.

Which aaaaah I'm losing it here! Yuuji was a victim of Kenjaku's machinations from the get-go, so would it have been right to kill him? Isn't this just a trolley problem — kill Yuuji and save innocent people's lives? But then, Yuuji, Sukuna and Kenjaku's actions led to the end of jujutsu society as we know it, more or less directly, which could lead to a better future, so was he actually right, in a purely consequentialist approach?

I don't think any of that is particularly interesting to discuss at this point tbh. I feel like that had already been dealt with. I'm just deeply confused as to why we're dealing with this when there were three chapters left before this one instead of focusing on closing the curtain on beloved characters, Gojo in particular.

Anyway! Bad chapter imo. Boring. Bad use of the characters and their relationships with one another. Really questionable use of time. Gojo was not mourned and in fact it's almost like he's never existed or never mattered to anyone. No Shoko here, not a hint of sadness from Yuta either, which I had hoped for.

I'm still looking forward to the last two chapters, and I hope they'll leave more room for the characters to, you know, have feelings.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #long post #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk spoilers #jjk manga spoilers #jjk leaks #jjk critical #actually let me know if this is too critical to be in the main tag #not sure #gojo satoru

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bookish-whore · 2 years

Text

Exile Pt.II

Azriel x Reader

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: in a shocking surprise to everyone I have more angst

A/N: SURPRISE!! I never actually revealed the poll results (oops my bad) but this was the winner! I know this chapter is kind of short but it sets up where our characters are mentally/emotionally plus has some interesting details for the future. Enjoy lovelies (and the next part is in progress don't even worry) ❤️

Part One -> Here

My Masterlist -> Here

Join my Taglist -> Here

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Gods it’s still dark outside I thought as I ran to the bathroom.

I hadn’t been sleeping that great since my departure from Velaris, and while I told myself it was a symptom of this pregnancy, I couldn’t help but feel it was a culmination of guilt, anxiety, and sadness. I pulled my hair back as I emptied the contents of my stomach into the toilet. This had been happening every day at least once and I was dreading the next nine months if this is what I would be looking forward to.

Once I was finished, I brushed my teeth, rinsing out my mouth thoroughly before making my way downstairs for a snack.

The cottage was cozy and intimate and completely not what I had pictured when Feyre said she had just the place in mind for me to escape to. It was located on the outskirts of the palace grounds of the day court, but the cottage itself was warded against all prying eyes. The wards had been put in place by Helion so none but his closest confidants had access to the home. I felt safe but mostly I felt alone.

Well mostly alone.

Lucien had been staying in the day court, learning the responsibilities required of a high lord, learning spells and wards and how to break them from Helion and he had been frequenting the cottage delivering food, supplies, books, and his company.

Helion had also been helpful, he had made sure the wards were strong enough to hide me from Azriel and he had provided me everything I needed to be comfortable here. He had even secured me a healer, he said it would be good to have someone I trusted, especially this early on to answer my questions and make sure I was prepared for this.

I couldn’t deny that I was terrified of being pregnant. Helion had an extensive library and in my free time I found myself wandering through the tomes looking for information on half Illyrian children, on the difficulty of pregnancy for fae women who mated with Illyrians. I also communicated a lot with Feyre about it. Considering that she knew the dangers firsthand of what having an Illyrian child could do to one’s body. She wrote me letters practically every day soothing my nerves with comforting words of encouragement and although my heart was aching for updates on Azriel, I never once asked. Mostly because I couldn’t bear to hear the answer.

Knowing that sleep was useless at this point I made my way to the main room which contained the kitchen, living, and dining area. I put some water on to make some tea and sat on the couch opening the book I had discarded last night.

I had only managed a few pages before the kettle began whistling. I bookmarked my page and stood, grabbing a mug from one of the shelves and throwing a tea bag into it, filling it to the brim with the bubbling water. I carefully grabbed the handle setting the mug on the table in front of the couch. I would wait a few minutes for it to cool before attempting to drink and in the meantime, I would continue with some light reading.

As I scanned the page, the words in front of me seemed to blur together as my eyes drifted closed and I fell into a dreamless sleep.

-----

“We have discussed this at length now. I don’t know what you expect from me” Rhysand said, his tone gentle but firm.

“I expect you to support me” Azriel exclaimed “For fuck’s sake we’re brothers”

“You think this isn’t hard for me Az? Having to go to this length because you didn’t stay away from Elain like I fucking told you to?”

“I already told you what happened Rhys” the shadowsinger said, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He had been having the same conversation for the last week trying to get any information out of the high lord and lady about your whereabouts.

“Yeah, I know what you told me, but I also know what y/n heard. I know what she felt and how she processed it, and I promised her I would protect her.” Rhys said “god damnit Az…what the fuck do you expect me to do?”

“Tell me where she is” Azriel begged “that’s all I’ve been asking you for the last week.”

“You know I can’t” The high lord said firmly. “You know I’m doing this for you.”

Azriel paced in front of the fireplace before sitting on one of the chairs of the high lords office, resting his head in his hands. “What if our roles were reversed. W-what if it was Feyre when she was pregnant? You know how long I’ve waited for this Rhys, waited for a family…for a baby” his voice cracked “and now I-I’m missing it”

“I know Az.” He said clasping a hand to Azriel’s shoulder “I fucking know okay, you know how feral I was, h-how protective I was of them both during the beginning. But until I can understand why Elain would lie, why she would manipulate the situation this way it keeps y/n safe. It keeps your child safe. We don’t know why you were targeted and until Elain comes out of it, we only know half of what happened.”

“I know. Just…p-promise me that they are both safe” Azriel said wiping away a tear, because he knew that Rhysand was right, and he wouldn’t dare put you in danger.

The night you fled is fragmented in Azriel’s mind, in fact he can’t even remember most of it. He definitely doesn’t remember a conversation with Elain and the more he thinks about it there are all these gaps in his memory. Nights he can’t recall and whole days where his actions are blurred like he was a completely different person.

He was determined to get to the bottom of this, He and Rhysand were already putting the evidence together figuring out why Azriel would be a target and who would gain from his downfall.

Azriel had made a promise to himself that he would get his family back it was only a matter of time, and he had to hold on to hope that when the time came you would understand, that you would listen to him, and that eventually you would forgive him.

-----

I woke to the smell of food cooking and the familiar aroma of mahogany and crackling embers which told me that I was not alone.

I rubbed my eyes, sitting up and stretching my limbs before padding to the kitchen where Lucien was.

“How are we feeling today mama?” Lucien asked over his shoulder as he his attention was fixed on the stove.

“Nauseous, tired, bloated, over-emotional…just the usual” I said opening the refrigerator for a drink.

“Well, according to my father that is all completely normal at this stage considering what you’re going through” he said with a smirk as he shoveled the contents of the pan onto two plates, placing one of them in front of me.

“What’s on your mind.” He asked “you seem particularly distracted this morning.”

I shook my head, taking a bite of the eggs and toast he had made for me.

“What are you an expert on my body language now?” I snapped “I’ve only been here a week.”

He nodded, drinking his coffee. “Look, I know you’re struggling to deal with all of this” he said softly “and you can’t push me away no matter how much you may want to.”

“I know” I said solemnly “I’m sorry it’s just that I-” I paused, taking a shaky breath. He nodded at me to continue.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do this alone” I said, my voice cracking as I struggled to hold back my tears but the words just kept pouring out of my mouth “I thought that we would do this together. Azriel and I and then he- he- cheated on me with her and now I’m here and I’m alone and I-I’m pregnant and I am scared and the one person who I thought I could count on is the person I have to hide from and my life is falling apart and I just- I feel so fucking alone”

“Y/n you are not alone- I am here for you and though you can’t see them your other friends are here for you too” he said pulling me into his broad chest tucking my head under his chin and he simply held me, allowing me to cry.

He held my face in his hands, wiping away my tears “If anyone can understand the heartbreak of the mating bond it’s me- you know the guy who has been rejected countless times by his mate” he finished it with a sweet smile and I couldn’t help but smile back

“Thanks Lucien” I said softly “for being here and checking on me, for everything.”

“Always darling” he said “now finish your breakfast, its important that you are eating well and often.”

“I know, I know” I said taking another bite of my breakfast “are there any letters for me today?” I asked.

He pulled a small bundle out of thin air, one of his many tricks, and handed it to me. There were three envelopes, on top was Feyre’s delicate script, followed by Nesta’s and as I looked at the last one my heart skipped a beat. I recognized his handwriting in an instant. Azriel.

But how did it get here?

“You don’t have to read it if you aren’t ready” Lucien said “Feyre sent it with hers, apparently he begged her to and you know how much of a sap she is sometimes”

I simply looked at it, debating the pros and cons of it. Could I handle his apologies right now? Did I even want to hear them? Did he deserve that? the answer to them all, at least right now was simple.

I handed his letter to Lucien “Hold on to this for me, until I ask for it” I said.

He grabbed it and it vanished into thin air without another word.

“So, what’s on your agenda today” Lucien asked changing the subject

“I wanted to do a little more research in the library, and I think I have an appointment with the healer later. Can you come over for that?” I asked “I don’t know if I can handle it alone.”

“Of course” he said “like I said, you’re not alone in this”

Lucien stood to collect the dishes, cleaning up from breakfast while I read the letters from Feyre and Nesta. There wasn’t much to report but it was nice to stay informed, it was nice that they thought to write even about the mundane happenings back home.

I wrote some replies, telling them I would have more information after the healer tonight and to give everyone my love. Once satisfied I handed them off to Lucien and changed clothes for the day, Lucien helped put on the glamour I was wearing to go out in the court so I could move about without being recognized and we went to the library.

I would never get over the view of the library. It was a towering structure, so many tall spires that were filled with books, all the knowledge of Prythian. The carvings in the stone so intricate and the greenery growing around the building entombing the sides with vines, flowers, and moss. Lucien and I entered immediately going to the medical section to return a scroll I had borrowed yesterday about Illyrian anatomy. I had been keeping questions for the healer about my body and whether the delivery would be safe. I pulled another from the shelf it was on medical breakthroughs of the second age. I also walked around the romance section pulling some leisure reading for later when I undoubtedly couldn’t sleep. Lucien took care of transporting them to the cottage.

Before I knew it the sun was setting, and Lucien winnowed us back to the cottage to meet the healer.

Her name was Mila. She was a woodland nymph who moved to the Day Court to study under Helion. She had spent a time working with Madja in Velaris and with high lord Thesan in the Dawn Court. She was exceptionally gifted and was kind, answering all my questions calmly and encouraging me to keep asking questions through this process.

“So, I know your biggest concern is the birth” Mila said “I have been studying various alternatives to a traditional delivery that we can discuss as the time gets closer so we have a plan in place. I would like to try for a traditional delivery because it is much less stressful on the body but yours and the babes health come first always so we can be flexible”

I nodded my head with her “and everything is okay so far?” I asked

“as far as I can tell” Mila said “babe is strong, they have a strong heartbeat and seem to be growing at a normal rate. I would say you are about 4 months along or around 16 weeks.”

“That fits the timeline” I said with a smile

“Do you want to know the sex?” Mila asked

“You can tell that now?” Lucien said. I had almost forgotten he was here and I was grateful now to have a friend.

“Well, it’s a mixture of magic and a little faith” Mila said

“I don’t know” I said looking to Lucien for support.

“Why don’t you write it down and if she wants to open it she can when she’s ready” Lucien offered

Mila nodded moving over to me and whispering a series of words while holding a pendant above my womb. She smiled and wrote something on a scrap of paper tucking it inside an envelope before handing it to me.

“I’ll be back in two weeks’ time for another checkup” she said before walking out the front door and winnowing away.

I grabbed the envelope tucking it into the book I was reading.

Lucien bid me a goodnight, leaving me with a warm dinner and headed off to the palace.

As I sat on the couch once again alone in the cottage, I felt a faint flutter in my lower stomach, I had read that at this point in the pregnancy you could sometimes feel the baby move.

I took it as a sign.

A sign that I could do this.

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Thanks for Reading ❤️

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Taglist (all fics) ->

@cherryjain17 @we-were-beautiful @moonfawnx @aroseinvelaris @daily-dose-of-sass @marvelouslyem @moonlightazriel @indaybella99 @gray08 @dreamsofivy @gorgeouslysent @viradeity @kennedy-brooke @maddistyles17 @thewarriormoon @pixiestix13 @lucyysthings @a-frog-with-a-laptop @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @purplevitagen @devilsfoodcake22 @lillithathecat @baby-is-crying @nightcourtwritings @lastwandastan @marudersarehot @georgiastars13 @percyjacksonspeen @inpraizeof @piebymesstuff @maviee @theravenphoenix26 @sunnys-interests @ahahah-noo @hiza-46 @humanpersonlasttimeichecked

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