#anyway stream the hell out of this show it brings me so much joy

[emkini]

Okay wait no. y’all. This fucking show.

This is the kind of stuff I watched the hell out of between the ages of 12 and 15. The camp, the cheese, the simple fantasy, the raging hormonal love story- I LIVED for it. And in all of that media there was always the cheesy tropey romance, and that cheesy tropey romance was always, always a straight one.

The explicit, in-your-face, intrinsic-to-the-plot sapphic romance of this show means so much to me now, but I can only imagine how much more it would have meant when I was younger. When I was a confused gay tween suffering deeply from internalized homophobia (not to mention casual homophobia from literally everyone around me, including my parents and best friend at the time), watching cheesy teen movies for comfort and thinking “well that’s the kind of romance I like, so I must be straight.” 

This show isn’t a masterpiece. It’s not a jaw-dropping work of art, it’s not Portrait of a Lady on Fire. It’s cheesy. It’s simple, it’s camp, it’s tropey; and when I was 14 it would have been life-changing. Hell, it’s life-changing now. Because what’s up on that screen is the kind of love I feel, that I felt- and when you’re a kid who doesn’t get to see your kind of love portrayed in the campy cheesy hormonal whirlwind that is teenage entertainment, you start to think that your kind of love doesn’t really exist at all- at least not in a way you can understand. 

So no, this show isn’t particularly great. But it doesn’t have to be, because the significance of it isn’t in the complexity and nuance of its story or writing or acting. This show is about sapphic teenagers in a campy monster setting experiencing the kind of intense television love story that I grew up thinking was reserved for straight couples, and somehow people still find a way to look that premise in the eye and call it ‘tired’. 

#first kill #juliette x calliope #I have. THOUGHTS #a show like this would have brought me so much comfort a few years ago #still does but. I'm more confident in who I am now #I have friends who support me now #but all of that. ALL of it is recent #and just getting to see girls like me having a campy romance in the spooky fantasy setting #would have meant so much. #anyway stream the hell out of this show it brings me so much joy #I was put off by the violence warning but honestly it's not bad #a few moments here and there but once you get a feel for what to expect it doesn't try to shock you with something worse

[just-another-hhazbin]

I have a question for you:

I'm aroace, and while I love Alastor and that he's ace and potentially aro (not sure if the aro part is definitely canon or not), apparently Viv has said in past streams that he's egocentric/doesn't love anyone but himself and I'm concerned that that's why she made him aroace. Especially if he's definitely aro, since if he were only ace it'd be less questionable imo. Granted, he does have friends so the "only loves himself" thing may not be 100% true, and these things could still change while the show's in development. I'm just kinda worried about Viv's reasoning. What do you think?

Hello, fellow aroace! I find it both amusing and suiting that I received this ask several hours after I queued the ADHD Alastor reblog, because to me, they are very similar subjects.

To the best of my knowledge, Alastor has been confirmed ace in canon by Vivziepop. However, only Faustisse, who i don’t believe is any longer a member of the Hazbin team and has never been in charge of such official decisions, openly declared him aromantic.

However, Vivz has hinted at this, but holds off at the last moment because she wants “people to ship whoever they like and to have fun” (paraphrased).

That’s... not great reasoning and vaguely problematic in and of itself, implying that aromantic people cause problems and etc., but whatever. It’s a smart marketing decision and helps prevent the fandom from turning into even more of a bloodbath than usual, so I understand why she decided that. Do I agree? No. Do I understand? Yes.

However, it is issues such as what you bring up that makes me somewhat thankful we haven’t seen him officially declared aro (yet).

If you’ve seen my aspd!Alastor or other aspd posts, then you probably know some of my thoughts on the subject. For those who haven’t, I’ll take it from the top.

I... am also concerned. I think in the end that how much depth Alastor’s characterization is given will determine whether or not the aro is a good move. 

From what we’ve seen and what’s been given, Alastor is a manipulative, unhinged, sadistic, vaguely narcissistic asshole who cares nothing for anyone other than himself. On that description alone, I would very much recommend not labeling him as aromantic. Aro people have had enough of that stereotype, thank you very much. Also, people such as that can experience romantic attraction, it’s just that they tend to be douchebags about it.

That being said, the Alastor comic does give me hope.

(If you haven’t read the comic, go do so, because there be spoilers ahead. https://www.hazbinhotel.com/alastor-comic/page-1)

Yes, he’s a generally annoying pain in the ass dressed in bright red. However, he also wasn’t just going about his business killing everyone for the Hell of it. Sure, he might do that sometimes, but I’ll take “sometimes.” Furthermore, he wasn’t purposefully extra-dickish to customer service people (unless you count feeding the birds, which should be considered a crime but also, Radio Demon, could’ve been worse) and he tips street musicians while being kind to his fans. 

He obviously does want social interactions, and was increasingly frustrated and upset when everyone fled from him and the rose wilted at his touch. He wants positive interactions! He wants joy and pretty things and obviously does care about what others think of him, despite statements to the contrary.

And of course, the culmination of him indeed committing a murder and going full cannibal on someone’s ass... after stepping in to stop that person from abusing a customer, giving him a second chance, and then intervening again to stop the asshole from assaulting someone else.

None of these actions had any benefit to him. He knows that this will only increase his reputation as do-not-fuck-with-or-speak-to at worst, and have no affect at all at best. But he does it anyway.

So. If this is the Alastor Vivz sees and if we get more of him, of an Alastor who yes is a bit of an unhinged serial killer cannibal but also seeks out positive interspersonal interactions and cares about strangers, then I would be much more settled with giving him an official aromantic designation. Because then it’s not just that he said “fuck people and relationships; I’m a narcissistic sadist,” but that he’s searching for personal connections that resonate with him, and romance just isn’t it.

So. Yeah. Right now a lot of shit has been said about Alastor official and otherwise, half of it contradicting itself, and while I am Definitely Concerned about him playing into the stereotypical tropes around bad aro rep, I do have some hope that maybe it could play out well.

Also, unrelated to Vivz and how she and her team handles things, there’s always the fact that Alastor’s brother from another mother is undoubtedly Hannibal, who is the most in-love cannibalistic sadistic narcississtic serial killing gay to ever gay (or kill), so that’s a nice little counter-argument to have if and when people decide to be shit about Al’s character + acearo rep.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #vivziepop #alastor hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor headcanons #hazbin alastor headcanons #alastor headcanon #aromantic Alastor #aroace alastor #aro representation #asks anonymous #long post #text post #alastor comic #alastor comic spoilers

[galaxysupreme17]

Hold On

Olivia Benson X Daughter Reader!

TRIGER WARNNING! Cutting/Bullying/attempted suicide. So this isn’t my first time writing but it is my first time posting on here. I write a lot of stories manly about my favorite tv shows/characters. Anyway this is a short story about being Olivia Benson’s Daughter and having depression and someone keeps leaving notes telling you to kill yourself. Olivia is currently a detective around season 14. If you guys have any request send them in and I will write them! 

As you walk through the walls of your high school trying to keep your head down, not wanting to be seen, you walk up to your locker and open it. A bunch of notes come flowing out of it. You squat down, pick them up, and read through them. 

“No wonder your mom is ever around. It’s probably because you are a horrible no good person” and another “my god just go kill yourself” and another “the world would be a better place if you weren’t here.” 

After reading all of them you quickly shoved them into your bag and shut your locker. You walk home and as fast as possible open your apartment door. You run to your bedroom and burst into tears.

 You have been getting these notes for months and slowly you have been believing them. You have your own personal bullies. Their names are Holly and Jamie. They make your life a living hell as often as they can.

 Holly is the captain of the cheerleaders and Jamie is captain of the football team. You open your bag, after drying your tears, and pull out the notes putting them with the others, which are in a box on your desk right next to the picture of you and your mom. 

You smile at the picture through your tear eyes and pull out a pen and paper. You quickly write down a suicide note and leave it on the counter in the kitchen for Olivia to find.

 You then walk to the bathroom and pull out a bottle of pills and your razor. Before doing anything you think about your life.

Olivia was the best mother in the world. Always coming to every performance of every musical and always being there when you needed her. She would be there when you woke up and when you went to bed. 

You remember going to the park when it was snowing and the rest of the squad went and you and Fin ganged up on Cragen throwing snowballs at him. Then the bullying started and your depression and anxiety got worse. You dropped theatre and show choir because you didn’t feel the joy of singing anymore.

 After a little bit of thinking you continued with your plan. You took the razor and slid it across your arms and legs watching as the blood came running down. You grab the bottle of pills and start taking them; at first one by one but then continued until even after you started to feel dizzy. Within in minutes you passed out on the floor. 

~With Olivia~

Olivia finally got off work just ready to be home. She was happy because she was finally going to have an evening with you. She had planned to let you pick dinner then you both would curl up on the couch and finish watching Gilmore Girls. You started that show together loving it because it reminded you both of your relationship with each other.

 You were Rory and Olivia was Lorelai. The memory makes Olivia smile as she drives home. As soon as she parks her car and heads the flight of stairs, she gets a sickening feeling in her gut telling her something is wrong. Olivia rushes to the door and fumbles with her keys to get the door open. Finally, after struggling, she gets the door open and walks inside.

 “Y/n! Y/n Where are you?” Olivia sets her stuff down and sees the note, it reads. 

“Dear Mom, I am so sorry for this. I just can’t take it anymore. The real reason I quit theatre and show choir was because I have been bullied. For awhile now actually. I just cannot stand to live another day. They keep telling me it is for the best that I die and I believe that is true. Just now that I did fight. I fought for so long. I truly just cannot continue fighting. Know that I love you and none of this is your fault, I know you are going to blame yourself for not seeing it sooner but I am serious, none of this is your fault. I just can’t continue on. I don’t think I can continue on, I feel numb and like no one wants me. I love you momma never forget that.” By the end Olivia had tears streaming down her face as she ran to the bathroom banging on the door, 

“Y/n! Please stay with me baby please! Open the door Y/n!” Olivia yelled.

 Pulling out her phone she called 911 and busted down the door. As soon as she saw your body laying on the floor she broke. Immediately, Oliva checked for a pulse which was weak but there. 

“Please don’t leave me baby! Hold on baby-girl please! I love you so much sweetheart!” Oliva cried as she began doing CPR. 

The ambulance soon showed up and the took you and Olivia to the hospital. Olivia called Fin and asked to go check your bedroom for anything and bring it to the hospital. Of course Fin immediately jumped and ran when he heard what happened. Fin was still at the precinct when Liv called and Cragen happened to also be there. 

Fin told Cragen everything and the two took off to go to Liv’s apartment then the hospital. Once the found the notes from your classmates and the suicide note they drove to the hospital. Olivia was waiting in the waiting room and when she saw Fin and Cragen she stood up again, on the verge of tears.

“Liv what happened?” Cragen asks looking her. Oliva cleared her through trying not to cry.

 “I uhh had this feeling something was wrong and when I finally got into the apartment I saw umm the note. I ran to the bathroom and the door was locked so I called 911 and broke down the door. She was just laying there *her voice cracks* y/n looked to helpless it broke me.” Olivia explains and starts crying again. 

Fin pulls her in for a hug and they all three just stand there. Olivia walked away to call Rachel your best friend. Rachel Cabot is Alex Cabot’s daughter and your best friend. The two of you have been through thick and thin together. Olivia knew she needed to call Alex and Rachel so they could be here. 

After calling Alex, who said they would be down there soon, Olivia returned to the waiting room where your doctor came walking out. “Olivia Benson?” She asked softly. 

“That’s me” Olivia said standing and walking forward. “Hi! I’m Arizona Robbins. So me and my team were able to pump Y/n stomach and stich up their wounds. They are still asleep and it might be awhile before they wake up but I can take you back to see them if you want” 

“Yes please” Olivia says letting out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding. As soon as they reached your room, Olivia covered her mouth trying not to cry. She sat next to your bed and held your hand, not wanting to let go. 

Hours later you woke up not knowing where you were. Olivia felt you moving and immediately jumped looking at you with a soft smile. 

“Mommy?” You say barley above a whisper. “Yes baby I’m right here” Olivia says wiping the tears away.

~Days Later~ 

You were sitting on the couch reading your favorite book Little Women. “Y/n can I talk to you about something serious?” Olivia asks walking over and sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “What is it?” You ask setting your book down and turning and looking at her. 

“If you don’t want to talk about it I completely understand but, why didn’t you tell me about the notes from the kids at school?” Olivia asks looking at you watching your facial expressions. 

“I don’t know. I just felt like if you saw them you would agree or would tell me I’m just being dramatic and over reacting.” You say trying not to cry.

“Listen to me Y/n; I will always be here for you to talk or just to cry. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t come to me. You are my daughter and I never ever want you to feel like I would judge or yell at you. I love you so much baby” Olivia says opening her arms causing you to jump into her arms hugging her. 

“Thank you. I love you too mom” You smile as she tightens her grip around you.

#olivia benson #x reader #mother/daughter #law and order svu #svu fic #svu fandom #Fin #captain cragen #fanfic #short story

[barricadebops]

A combination of 2, 5, 7 and 11. For my loves E and R.

Prompts:

"Is there a reason why you're blushing like that?"/"OH you're jealous!"/"Please just kiss me already." /"I think I'm in love with you."

The creak of the door opened wide enough to spill streams of light into the dark room as Grantaire turned away and groaned, an arm draped across his eyes. 

See, it wasn't that he was sick or had a headache that he needed to stay in bed and rest, and that the light was currently unbearable. None of that was true.

The matter at hand was that the day prior, Grantaire had broken his leg attempting to help Musichetta move into her new apartment with Joly and Bossuet, and it seemed Bossuet's bad luck was spreading to infect others with the way Grantaire had tripped and fallen down the stairs, breaking his leg in a rather painful manner. 

Now that he thought of it, Bossuet was near him when the accident occurred. Yes, it seemed Bossuet was definitely spreading his bad luck onto the others, starting with him.

And the thing is, it was just a broken leg. It wasn't as if he had caught the plague and was going to die. But Joly ordered him strict bed rest for the rest of that day continuing into tomorrow, and as much of a jolly man Joly could be, he could also muster quite the threatening smile when it came to medical matters. 

So Grantaire wasn't taking chances. Besides, even if he wanted to, it's not like Enjolras would let him. His boyfriend was taking this whole role of "personal-carer" (he said he refused to call himself a "doctor" on accounts that doing so would erase the years of hard work people like Combeferre and Joly go through to become one--Grantaire personally thought it didn't matter because none of this was necessary anyways, but hey, what does he know) a bit too seriously if you asked Grantaire. 

His boyfriend. God what a sentence. Grantaire could probably heal himself with those words only if this were some magic-kids cartoon or something.

So no, he wasn't physically sick; he was sick of having to lie in bed all day. He didn't feel sick. He wasn't sick. Hell, he didn't even have a hangover. As long as he used his crutches, he could move along. 

But alas. Joly. If he was here, he knows Joly would make some sort of a jollity out of being confined to the bed.

His attention was drawn out of his head and back to the present as the bed dipped by his side and he pitched his eyes up to Enjolras' familiar blue pair. 

Well, there wasn't much positive about his predicament, but the extra time with Enjolras? That was likely the one good thing that came out of this. 

Not that he didn't get enough time with him. But any extra time he got to spend with him was all the better. 

By his side above him, Enjolras laid a hand on his chest. "Are you feeling alright?" he murmured, mindful of the silence that preceded his entry into the room. 

Grantaire grinned up at him. "I broke my leg, Enjolras, I didn't have a stroke." All the same, he raised his own hand to curl around Enjolras', brushing a thumb over his soft skin. 

"It was worth asking," was all he replied softly. 

He rubbed another circle on Enjolras' hand before raising it up to his lips and pressing a light kiss on it. Enjolras' smile grew more brilliant even in the dim of the room. He chalked it up to the brightness of his, as Jehan once put it in a poem, exquisite teeth.

At the red that bloomed on Enjolras' cheeks, he smiled and teased, "Is there a reason why you're blushing like that?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." 

"Why yes," he grinned harder at the way his blush grew darker, and he paused a moment to press another lingering kiss on his knuckles, "I would like to know." 

Enjolras carded a hand through his curls, prompting a satisfied hum from Grantaire. "Live in suspense." 

He reached up his hand not already occupied with holding Enjolras' own and twirled a finger around a stray curl on the side of Enjolras' face.

"I thought lecture ended at three? It's--" he glanced briefly at the clock-- "five now. I'm not trying to keep you trapped at home, I can tell from personal experience it's not fun, but you've gotta understand my curiosity here."

Enjolras hummed. "Well, one of your classmates--I think he said his name was Sadiq--he said you left your newest project in Dr. Alvarez' classroom, but that her room was still open. And I would have passed the building on my way back here anyways, so I thought I could bring it home so you could still work on it. If you're up for it, that is." 

Grantaire's eyebrows knit in concern. "Enj that canvas is by far one of the heaviest things I've painted on before. You walked all the way home carrying that thing?"

With a teasing smile, Enjolras said, "It's my secret superpower." 

He quirked an eyebrow. 

Enjolras chuckled. "Alright, no I didn't walk home. The canvas does have some considerable weight to it. But I did bring it home; Maxence was driving me home, and he said he wasn't in any rush. And don't worry, I'm the one who loaded the project into the car, I know it's important. And I made sure he drove extra slow and careful too. So… here I am." 

Quite on the contrary, the idea of Enjolras on an extra slow car-ride with Maxence didn't exactly please Grantaire. Really the thought of Maxence anywhere near Enjolras didn't please him. 

He knew these were his insecurities at play. He knew he should probably address them before his behaviour turned toxic. But really, there had to be some merit to his dislike and suspicion of the man. He saw the way he would look at Enjolras, the way his touches would always linger just the slightest bit too long. And of course, Enjolras, who himself was quite the tactile person with his friends, never thought anything wrong of it. 

But everytime he was there with Enjolras, offering "companionship" by walking out of class with him, or walking him to his next lecture, or offering to help study a concept at the coffeeshop a sizeable distance away from the Cafe Musain--Grantaire couldn't help it; he seethed. 

Some of that displeasure must have shown on his face, or must have made itself heard in the beat of silence he allowed to stretch on for just a moment too long for it to not have been charged, but not with any sort of buzzing of joy. 

Enjolras' face immediately faltered. "Is something wrong?" He hesitated. "Should I have left it?" 

And despite the fact that his mind was clouded over in a haze of resentment at the mention of Maxence, he still had enough of it in him that he couldn't stand the way Enjolras' lips pulled down at the corners. He forced a smile on his lips as he strained to say, "No, why would you ever think that? Your mind, Enjolras, I swear I don't know where you get your ideas from sometimes, it's unreal--"

"Grantaire," Enjolras interrupted. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question. 

But Grantaire himself had never been one for answering what had been asked of him, so instead he smirked a little this time and lightly squeezed Enjolras' hand still held in his own. 

Sighing, he could tell Enjolras knew there was no point in pursuing a topic he knew he wouldn't get answers to, so instead he shifted and moved Grantaire head up off his pillow so he could instead lie his head in Enjolras' lap. He let out a contented sigh and burrowed closer as he felt his boyfriend's hand slip into his curls, stroking softly.

"Combeferre and Courfeyrac really need to sort things out," Enjolras murmured quietly. "I swear I'm going to lose it with the pining in that house. It's thick enough to--"

"To cut with a knife?" he finished lazily. Enjolras hummed an affirmative.

"Exactly. I mean, how any two fools can be this oblivious I have no clue. Courfeyrac keeps going out of his way to do all these things for Combeferre, and while I generally don't like using this phrase because of the way it tends to imply that romantic relationships are somehow superior to platonic ones even though that's not true at all, it's clear to anyone that Courfeyrac's trying to show he thinks of Combeferre as maybe more than a friend, and I don't know how Combeferre--who himself is clearly in love with Courfeyrac!--can miss them, I mean the gestures are clear enough--"

He hummed distractedly, too taken with the way Enjolras' hand felt in his hair. "Like the way Maxence drives you around all the time?" 

The hand in his hair stopped stroking abruptly. "What?" 

Grantaire peaked his eyes open in confusion before shutting them closed again, wondering why Enjolras stopped before the memory of the last few seconds struck him hard enough to make his eyes fly open once more as he realized what he said. 

"Wait, no, I--"

"Why does that matter?" 

He glanced away nervously, only to find once he looked back at his boyfriend, that Enjolras didn't look angry or even miffed. If anything, there seemed to be a hint of a smile playing at his lips. 

His throat dried; he wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to react. "I…" 

Enjolras tilted his head, peering into his eyes with a sort of intensity it seemed only he possessed, though offset just the slightest bit by the way he seemed to be biting back a smile. "What's wrong with that? In fact, it's better when considering carpooling is a good choice to reduce emissions--though not the best way, mind you--and it saves time too. I don't see what's wrong. Maybe it's his vehicle?"

"Enjolras--"

"Or maybe--wait!" Enjolras' grin broke out in full this time. "OH you're jealous!"

Grantaire let out a long-suffering groan. "You're going to tease me about it?" 

Enjolras made a dramatic show of thinking. "Well," he started, "if I did tease you, you would kind of deserve it for being stupid enough to be jealous of someone I clearly see as a friend." 

"Well he clearly sees you as much more than that," he muttered darkly in reply. 

Enjolras pulled a hand through his hair, though this time was more to call attention to his eyes once more. "I know that, Grantaire. And I've been meaning to talk to him about it, too," he said softly.

His eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "Wait, you--?" 

"I'm not entirely oblivious, you know," he continued with a hint of amusement. "I know that he's been… trying to get past the territory of friendship. But of course, I'm not exactly looking for that with him. And I'm going to talk to him about it soon." He paused for a second before continuing on, "You, however, should comfort yourself with the trust that I hope you have in me, enough to know I wouldn't be dishonest to you in that kind of way ever."

He sighed. "I know. I don't doubt you, I just…" he trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence, even if he could recognize the emotions swirling around in his head. 

Enjolras cupped his cheek, and he gazed above into his face, an expression so gentle it almost made one wonder how it could turn severe, though it did happen on occasion. "We'll talk about this later, but we will talk about it," is all he said. 

"I'm sorry." 

Enjolras leaned forward, his curls reaching low enough to tickle Grantaire's forehead. "You are forgiven," he whispered before pressing a soft kiss to his skin.  

Grantaire closed his eyes took a moment to revel in the feeling of Enjolras' lips on his skin, humming in content for the while they lingered, and attempting to stifle his disappointment when he drew back. Of course, his attempts were no good and Enjolras laughed.

"Too quick?" he asked, teasing. Grantaire opened his eyes once more and grinned. 

"Always too quick. Would it be too fast to ask for another?" 

"That depends." Enjolras scratched softly at his head. "What's the magic word?" 

Grantaire's grin grew. "Magic words, you mean. All hail Feuilly our saviour."

Enjolras let out a surprised laugh. "While that is true, it wasn't what I was looking for." He shrugged his shoulders and smiled down at him mischievously. "Looks like no kiss for you--"

"No!" he interrupted. Enjolras' laughs grew more vibrant, making Grantaire soften at the sight of it. "Please?" 

"Hm. Please what?" Enjolras continued to tease. 

"Please just kiss me already."

This time, when Enjolras' lips kissed his own, he could feel the way they stretched into a smile, prompting Grantaire to smile into the kiss too. 

When Enjolras drew back, Grantaire had thought he had never seen quite so lovely a sight in so long. If Enjolras at his most fiery was like the radiance of the bright sun, then at his gentleness he had to be the soft colours of the morning's dawn. 

And for Grantaire, who had for so long seen only dark night, it was surely a most beautiful sight. One that ought not to be corrupted with a toxicity such as jealousy.

"I think I'm in love with you," he muttered in amazement. 

At that, Enjolras' smile simply grew even more dazzling.

"I'd sure hope so, or this engagement ring you bought me really would have been a bit of a waste," his fiance said, joy evident in his speech. "But know that I love you too."

#I FINALLY FINISHED A PROMPT #my God this is months old #anon PLEASE forgive me I was going though a bit of a rough patch #ah yes the end in which I reveal they're engaged how original #les miserables #enjolras #grantaire #enjoltaire #ExR #les mis fic #enjoltaire fic #les miserables fic #annie writes stories #long post

[roseabelle21]

Sypnosis: You have waited for him. For years you waited for him. Waiting for the time that he'll look at you the way you look at him, to see you the way you see him, to love you like how much you love him. As days bled into years, you accepted the harsh reality that all those things are only forever daydreams. All those years chasing has left you numb, tired, pain, so you stop. Stop, and then turn away from him, ready to start anew. But he doesn't want you to go. 

Status: Unedited

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x female! Reader

Genre: Angst

Part 2: In Another Life

Why? 

Why now?

You looked at the sullen face of the man you once loved in front of you. Five feet away from you, so close yet so far. There Bakugou Katsuki stood, hands clenched on his side, teeth gritted, his usually spiky hair has flattened down as if it reflects its owner's emotions. And his eyes, god, you used to love staring at those eyes, always determined and filled with a burning passion, and now you can't recognize them. 

They were pleading, aching, distress; they were in agony. It doesn't suit your eyes, you thought. Never in the years you've been with him would you have imagined that they are directing at you.  

For you. 

You wanted this to be a dream, no, a nightmare. Yet as you both stood at the pouring rain, the cracking of thunder, the rain hitting your skin and dampening your clothes, confirmed that this is all true. It is happening to you right now.

"What?"

You whispered in disbelief, heart pounding in your ears as you clenched the collar of your dress for stability. 

You looked at him, disbelief, hurt, anger, sadness, and confusion all simultaneously. "I-I don't understand?" 

He ran his hands through his hair angrily, gripping on them in frustration as he looked down at the ground. He can't stand this, you looking at him like that, in pain, but he knows he caused this. 

The timing is awful, and he didn't think this through. When Mina told him you wanted to give Inasa a chance to go on a date, the guy that had his eyes on you ever since the Provisional License Exam, something in him snapped. 

Katsuki can't stand it, just imagining you holding someone else's hands, holding you, making you laugh, tell your problems to someone else,  kissing you.

His blood started boiling at the thought, sparks unintentionally popping out of his hands, sending his teammates in panic. No, all of those are the things that you should be doing with him. 

Before he knew it; he was running, begging, praying that he wasn't too late. But he already is.

"I fucking like you! I'm sorry I took so long to realize it, I'm sorry for confusing you now, and I'm sorry-"

"Stop!"

You shouted, causing his eyes to widen, and he raised his head to look at you. The sight of your face broke his heart. 

"Please," you begged, holding your collar ever tighter as tears streamed down your face.

Katsuki took a step forward, reaching his hand towards you, wanting desperately to hug you, and you took a step back. He stopped his actions. 

Dammit, that stings.

"Why?"

He looked confused; first, he opened his lips to answer when you asked again.

"Fucking hell Katsuki why now?!"

Katsuki's taken aback by the sudden raise at your voice, albeit it's not his first time seeing it, this is the first time it is directed towards him. He knew he fucked up big time when your eyes, full of hatred, stared at him. Those eyes that are shining with love and adoration for him, now gone. 

He's ashamed, humiliated, furious, loathing at himself right now that he caused you this much pain. The dress you wore that hugged your curves perfectly, flowing around when you spun now clung to your body like a sponge. Your hair that framed your face like a goddess now stuck at your beginning, damped and ruined, face smudged with mascara, made you look like a hot mess. Still, you look beautiful in his eyes. 

You've always been beautiful, he knows it; he just chose to ignore it. 

"I have been by your side for years, Katsuki," you started, bringing him back to reality. "I was with you at your best, and I was with you at your lowest. I was with you when you started achieving your goals. Katsuki," you looked at his eyes, "I have always been by your side when you were too blind to notice."

He ran, he ran towards you and took you in his arms., holding you tighter when you started resisting, punching his chest, pushing him away, trying to pry his arms off of you. Despite the cold rain that soaked his shirt, he is so warm. 

You gave up it was futile anyway, but you didn't wrap your arms around him. They fall limp at your sides, sobbing even louder when he whispered in your ear, "I know."

Both of you just stood there in the pouring rain. It's like the weather is sympathizing along with you, crying because you no longer can hold the pain. 

If he confessed to you a year ago; you would have flown over the moon in joy. And now that he is revealing to you when you are ready to move on and find someone new, you feel numb. 

"Was it obvious that I liked you?" You asked, not looking up at him. You wouldn't have been able to see his face as he buried it in your hair as he confirmed your answer and ignored your usage of past tense. 

"Am I necessary to you?" You questioned, another batch of tears stinging your eyes when he answered. 

"More than you know."

Katsuki's hold on, you loosened even if he wanted to hold you longer, so you took that chance to detach yourself from him, wiping your eyes as you took a step back.

The rain has calm, till it stopped altogether. 

Realizing the time, you straightened your posture and looked at him dead in the eye, void of any emotion. 

"Do you want what's best for me?"

He nodded his head frantically, eyes lighting up for a second, "of course I fucking do-"

"Then leave me alone."

Katsuki felt his heart stop, and the air around him grew colder. He wanted you to admit that this is just a suck prank, a horrible nightmare. Would you please say anything to make his heart stop aching? 

"W-what? Stop shiting with me (Y/N)-"

"What makes you think I am?" You replied instantly. He physically froze at the tone of your voice. 

You took a step towards him, him taking action back this time.

"It's not my fault that you just realized your feelings for me when I'm ready to move on." 

Step.

"It's not my fault that you chose to ignore your feelings for me."

Step.

"It's not my fault that after all these years of chasing, something you knew but chose to ignore that I grew tired."

Step. 

"It's not my fault that I'm willing to choose someone else who can treat me better

then you can."

Step.

Stop.

"It's my choice when I want to stop loving you." You drew a shaky breath afterward. 

Katsuki's ears are ringing. He was so pale that he looked like he had seen a ghost. He stared at you, shocked, upset, unbelieving. He wanted to deny it. Deny the fact that he was too late. He knew that there was still a chance, but deep inside, he knew that you were right. 

You stared at each other one last time before you turned your heel and walked away.

A fresh batch of tears now rolled down your face, heart-clenching, and longing, wanting to give the man of your dreams a chance to be with him and hopefully a start of a beautiful relationship. You almost gave in, but your mind stayed firm. 

No. Enough. 

No more chasing.

No more longing.

No more fantasizing.

It's time to start a new leaf. Give a chance to others who are willing and trying to be with you, to make you happy, to treat you like you deserve. Who will love you back just as unconditionally as you do?

Katsuki Bakugou watched as you turned the corner, out of sight but still in mind.

Memories of you replayed in his mind like a movie: your first meeting, your first duo activity, when you saved him from the villains, when he opened up about his insecurities to you, your late-night talks, your blatant flirting, your smile, your laughter, your tears, your confession, you supporting him achieving his dreams, you walk away. Just you.

You.

Him losing you.

He fell to his knees and let out an anguished scream. Tears are falling like a waterfall and heart-shattering in a million pieces. Katsuki didn't flinch when someone wrapped their arms around him. He didn't push him away because he knew who that person was. 

The Bakusquad watched him pour his heart out. They warned him about this, warning him ever since that if he doesn't make a move soon, she's going to slip away from him. 

And she did. 

Kirishima held him; he didn't know what else to do. Telling him that everything will be okay is a lie. Katsuki wished upon the universe to bring you back to him. This time he will treat you right. This time, he will cherish you never like before; he will show you how much he loves you. 

He will do anything, anything. Just don't tell him that your love is gone. 

A/N: Hello and thank you for reading! This is my first fic on tumblr and I hope that you enjoyed it. Reblogging and liking my fic if you liked it will be appreaciated.♥️♥️♥️

#katsuki x you #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki angst #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bnha angst

[the-bau-quinjet]

I want to drive away with you

Chapter 12 of In Breakable Heaven! 

Summary: The show from reader’s perspective.

Warnings: angst

Word count: ~2100

As you finish preparing for your mini-show in the dressing room, you can’t help but think about the voicemail you left for Spencer on your way to the venue.

 “Hey Spence. I miss you, but you already know that. I’m doing a sort of mini show at 7 tonight. It would mean the world to me if you came… Look, I get it. You don’t want to be with me anymore, but I don’t want you to disappear from my life completely. Not when I need you now more than ever… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not trying to guilt you into coming, I just really want you to be there. For the moral support. The rest of the team is coming, so you won’t be alone. That’s it I guess. Bye.”

Tears spring to your eyes as you remember what he said to you the night he left. Shaking your head to clear the memories, you focus on the positive. That’s what your therapist has been telling you to do anyway. So, you switch focus and think of your friends. You are so grateful for the rest of the BAU team coming to support you after everything that happened. You are not alone, no matter how much it feels like it sometimes.

 With that reminder ringing in your ears, you get up to walk on stage as you hear the announcer introducing you. Taking a seat on the stool behind the lone mic center stage, you look into the audience. You know you shouldn’t look for him, but you can’t help it. Your eyes meet those of Derek, JJ, Emily, Penelope, and to your surprise, Hotch and Rossi. They had never come before. You give the group a small wave, choosing to ignore the lack of Boy Genius.

 You finally bring the mic to your mouth and greet the crowd “How are y’all doing tonight?” The crowd cheers you on as you continue introducing the show you have planned. “Now, you might be expecting the usual, but I’m afraid I only have three songs for you tonight. Just trying to get back into the swing of things, ya know?” Your abduction had been all over the news, which is probably why the crowd feels bigger than normal. “I hope you enjoyed the earlier acts though!”

 “The first song encompasses how I was feeling about a month ago. Before everything happened.” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to erase the bad and remember the good. “It was the happiest I have ever been. I had a great group of friends, a job I loved, a hobby that helped me bring some of that joy to you guys, and… the most incredible boyfriend.” You purposefully ignore the shocked gasps from some your friends in the front row. If you met their eyes right now, they would be sure to figure everything out.

 “Most of that is still true and for that I am incredibly grateful. Without further ado, here we go!” This song reminds you of everything you’ve lost rather than everything you still have, but it was the only one you could think to sing to truly encompass how happy you were a month ago.

 The moon is high, like your friends were the night that we first met.

Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet. Now, I’ve read all of the books beside your bed.

 You wave your hand in the air in a “that’s only sort of true” way. There was no way in hell you could ever read ALL the books beside Spencer’s bed. To your relief, the crowd laughs at your slight joke while you continue with the song.

 I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings. Uh huh, that’s right.

Darling, you’re the one I want, and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this. Uh huh, that’s right.

Darling, you’re the one I want in paper rings. In picture frames. In dirty dreams.

Oh, you’re the one I want.

 You sing through the second verse without a hitch, coming up to the bridge.

 I want to drive away with you. I want your complications too. I want your dreary Mondays, wrap your arms around me Pr-aby boy.

 You almost messed up there, could’ve given everything away with one stupid word. It doesn’t look like the team noticed though, since they are all dancing around with the biggest smiles you’ve seen in a while. They are just glad to see you happy again, even if it is just because you are remembering better times.

 You’re the one I want, one I want.

 You see the applause more than really hear it as the song comes to an end. Your heart is beating way too loud in your ears for you to notice anyway.

 “Thank you! Thank you! This next song is kind of a complete about face. 180 degrees if you will. Actually” you pause to think, “it’s more like 540 degrees.” You take in the confused glances from the audience, still searching for that one mop of slightly curly brown hair. “I feel like I went through every emotion possible, returned to where I started, and then was forcefully turned in the opposite direction.”  You knew Spencer would know exactly what you were talking about if he was there. You said something eerily similar the last time you saw him.

 You can feel the tears again, but you force them back down. You can’t sing and cry at the same time after all. “Clearly, you can tell why I was so happy a month ago. Paper Rings is kind of obvious in that sense. But, 3 weeks, 4 days, 6 hours,” you glance at your watch before continuing, “and 27 minutes ago every possible ounce of that happiness disappeared.”

 “For those of you who don’t know, I recently went through a fairly traumatic event. My good friends at the FBI saved my life. But after I left the hospital with a new found relief, I went home and my boyfriend, well I guess ex-boyfriend, came over.”

 Here come the tears again. “He didn’t tell me why, but he broke up with me that night. He said he didn’t want to do it while I was in the hospital, so he waited. I’ve had a lot of time to think it over, and I might know now why things changed. But even if I’m wrong, he left. And now, he won’t talk to me.”

 You take a few calming breathes before continuing, “Now I know what you’re thinking. This guy sounds like a complete asshat. And maybe you’re kind of right. But he’s been through more than I could even explain, and I know that it is slowly killing him to know that I went through barely a tenth of what has happened to him. Especially because I know he blames himself. So, I have this next song. To try and explain how him leaving is worse than anything that happened in that building.”

 The intro to the next song begins and you close your eyes. You can’t bear to look at anything right now. You need to solely focus on making it through this song.

 You and I walk a fragile line. I have known it all this time, but I never thought I'd live to see it break.

It's getting dark, and it’s all too quiet, and I can't trust anything now. And it’s coming over you like it’s all a big mistake.

Whoa, holding my breath, won't lose you again. Something's made your eyes go cold.

 You can feel you’re voice straining, but you need to push through to truly convey your emotions. Singing is the only way you know how and you won’t lose that. You can’t.

 Come on, come on don't leave me like this. I thought I had you figured out. Something's gone terribly wrong, you're all I wanted.

 Come on, come on don't leave me like this. I thought I had you figured out. Can't breathe whenever you're gone. Can't turn back now, I'm haunted

 You’re voice breaks at the end, but you’ve got a bit of instrumental to recover. You hold back from really looking at anyone during this song. The only face you want to see is Spencer’s and you didn’t see him anywhere while you searched during the first song. 

 Stood there and watched you walk away, from everything we had. But I still mean every word I said to you.

 He will try to take away my pain, and he just might make me smile. But the whole time, I'm wishing it was you instead.

 Pushing through the next chorus, you know the tears are welling as you practically scream sing your way through the song. Surprisingly, you are very on pitch. At least you still have that.

 I know. I know. I just know, you’re not gone. You can’t be gone, no

 The bridge is so simple, but it’s probably the saddest part for you to sing. One more round of the chorus brings you to the outro.

 You and I walk a fragile line. I have known it all this time.

Never ever thought I'd see it break. Never thought I'd see it.

 A single tear rolls down your cheek as you open your eyes and blink a few times at the lights. You can see the tears streaming down Penelope’s face and sad expressions in every single one of your friends eyes. Even Hotch seems choked up.

 You pull yourself together to finish the show. “I know what you’re thinking” you joke with the crowd. “What the hell happened to you?” You take another calming breathe. “Well, a lot. But every song I am singing tonight, they are all to the same person. The one person in the world who understands me more than anyone else. You should all know, however, the ‘he’ I was referring to when I sung ‘he will try to take away my pain’ is none other than my therapist. Thanks for the all the help Doc, I’m trying to do what you said.” You can feel the smile returning to your face, even if it is a little forced.

 “The last song I have for you is what I wish I had the chance to say that night 3 weeks, 4 days 6 hours,” again you check your watch, “and now 33 minutes ago.” You laugh at the ridiculous nature of remembering it down to the minute. Something you are so sure Spencer knows without having to think about.

 “It’s something I need you to know.” You don’t look at anyone in particular while you sing, but you know exactly who you are singing to as the song starts.

 One look. Dark room. Meant just, for you. Time moved, too fast. You played, it back.

Buttons, on a coat. Light hearted joke. No proof. Not much. But you saw, enough.

Small talk, he drives. Coffee, at midnight. The light, reflects. The chain, on your neck.

He says, look up. And your shoulders brush. No proof, one touch.

You felt enough.

This song is so beautiful in its simplicity. You’re grateful for the easy melody since your emotions are weighing on you so heavily right now. 

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you.

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you.

You can see it with the lights out, lights out.

You are in love, true love.

You are in love.

 It hurts more than expected to say those words about Spencer without actually looking into his eyes.

Morning, his place. Burnt toast, Sunday. You keep, his shirt. He keeps, his word.

And for once, you let go. Of your fears and your ghosts. One step, not much, but it said enough.

You kissed, on sidewalks. You fight, and you talk. One night, he wakes. Strange look, on his face.

Pauses, then says, you're my best friend. And you knew what it was,

he is in love.

 Since the first time you heard that song, it has been one of your favorites. It was almost bittersweet to sing that song to Spencer right now when you weren’t even sure he was in the audience. 

 As the final chords of the song end you take a few deep breaths, just enough to say goodbye to the crowd. 

“Thank you all so much for coming! We can only hope for and work towards a better future than the present we find ourselves in. Goodnight.” You took a steadying breath as you rose from your stool and went back to your dressing room. The tears started streaming down your face the minute you turned away from the crowd, and at the moment you had no idea if they would ever stop. You immediately put on your go to emotional TS playlist “for when you are feeling everything all at once” and sunk to the floor.

 tag list:

@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8​ @eevee0722 @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets15 @laurakirsten0502 @green-intervention @burnin-passion @takeyourleap-of-faith @secretpickleprofessordean @awkwardnesshabitat @loveheathens @fan-girl-97 @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @akuri-shinsou @prongsyy @panhoeofmanyfandoms @sherlockmarvelharrypotter

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader

[literaphobe]

season 2 of she-ra rated by catradora content

the frozen forest: “aw, cute, you can turn your sword into stuff.” very interesting how adora has to literally train not by fighting any real soldiers in the horde just... catra. light hope scanned her brain and knew she wouldn’t bother to run after anyone else :/ which. is true. call her out!! she fights bots too but she has more or less no issues with them even though she’s no expert with turning her sword into stuff yet, but then catra comes out, and suddenly adora can’t even block a single punch because catra laughed at her :( AND suddenly her sword can’t turn into anything but a cup. why adora? are you thirsty? it’s even funnier because none of this is real, and adora KNOWS that none of this is real, but she’s still Affected when fake catra says her seductive “hey adora” and she decides oh i know! i’ll turn my sword into a d*ldo with holes! oh wait never mind, is that a flute? damn it now she wants to Serenade catra. that’s even gayer than wanting to have sex with her. “did you mean to do that? because if you did it’s a terrible weapon.” “is not! >:(“ adora’s comebacks are like. kindergarten quality shit. i would make fun of catra’s insult too but in her defense that’s not actually catra. so adora tries to hit fake catra with her musical instrument and it doesn’t really work so she tackles fake catra and pins her to the ground. and looks,,, low key aroused as she does it okay adora.... she’s not real please remember that.... ur already a furry please don’t also be a bot fucker “what are you waiting for? you gonna play me a song on that thing?” yes she WAS catra! that’s what i’ve been SAYING don’t be mean to your girlfriend when she’s trying to serenade you :( adora gets angry after this latest act of oppression so she raises her hand, about to hit fake catra, but she stops right before the weapon can make contact, and her face softens. “i knew you couldn’t do it.” fake catra fades and the audience finds out something adora already knew. none of this was real, and even if she had hit fake catra and killed her, real catra would be fine. And Yet,,,,, big fucking sigh bros. haha y’all ever so hung up on a chick that you can’t even kill a fake simulation of her? even though she’s your enemy? lmaoooooo anyway the training simulation ends and adora is so depressed she transforms out of her she-ra form and asks “did you have to make her so mean? :(“ even tho light hope is about to come out and yell gay slurs at her. light hope shows up and is very confused. is catra... not mean? was my catra ooc miss adora? :/ did this catra hit different? too hostile? not like what ur used to? :/ go to hell adora if you made catra into a sim and picked her defining trait it WOULD be MEAN god everyone’s a critic. and then adora is like ok ur right :( catra is mean.... but have you considered making your simulation’s fake catra one that will hold me gently in her arms? have you considered that maybe i don’t want to fight her and that i want to kiss her instead? god damn it light hope you bitch. you fucking homophobe.

light hope is like okay cool. this latest performance was ur worst one btw and adora is like why do you THINK and is like i wanna be the very best :( like no one ever was :( and protecc etheria :( “but catra, she’s just in my head” ;) oh yeah i bet she is adora JFJSJDJSJD “when you grow up with someone, they know how to push your buttons :(” that’s very true adora. but you also grew up with many people such as lonnie, rogelio, and kyle. and you don’t seem to give a shit about them :/ so i guess “grow up with someone” really means “be in love” huh. i love you but do NOT lie to me ever again. after this, we see the real catra :’) she’s back at the horde training kyle, lonnie, and rogelio. “she-ra is too strong to defeat with force alone. but she’s slow and easily manipulated.” yeah maybe for you! maybe she slows down when she fights you because ur pretty and ur voice is sexy! way to flex ur privilege :( not everyone can manipulate she-ra because she’s not in love with all of them ok :( just u :( later on, we’re back at the war meeting in bright moon. bow says “we’re defeating the bots, but more keep coming. while we’re using our resources to hold our borders, the horde hasn’t had to deploy a single soldier.” hey! that’s a perfectly normal statement right! one that does not mention any specific person. there should be no reason for anyone to respond to this by bringing up any individual. guess what adora says. guess what she fucking says. i’m so fucking done oh my god. “typical catra >:(“ did... did bow MENTION catfkakdjsjdjsjs????? i’m fucking WHEEZING. adora. baby. could u. like. chill out? :/ re catra? for like one second? no? okay guess i’ll have to live with it. adora is so hung up over the “hey adora ;)” she heard from fake catra during training that she has to repay the favor when she fights entrapta’s upgraded bots. adora looks into the camera of one of the bots and just. she just KNOWS catra is watching and she’s correct. and she’s like “hey catra ;)” before punching the camera and cutting the live stream. catra’s response isn’t to immediately ditch the horde and go kiss adora (booooooo) but to. try and explode she-ra using one of the other bots. okay. i guess we all cope with arousal in different ways :/ when the bot explodes and adora realizes her attempt at seduction did not work out the way she intended (press f to pay respects), she gets all “>:( catra” which is very cute and iconic of her. and it’s apparently her way of coping with the situation so i’ll just let her be! 9/10

ties that bind: fuck you swift wind. what the FUCK. i can’t believe adora had to go on some stupid quest with the horse all because she would be fiFTy sEVeN pERcenT mOrE eFFeCtivE with him. who gives a shit. catra getting kidnapped and tied up is clearly the superior plot here and adora wasn’t there for it?? which, i know is the whole point, but also, why did they have to put her with the horse. would’ve rather seen adora with literally any of the princesses instead. haha jk. but also, am i? it is important that adora gets over her hatred of swift wind and bonds with him. but also, is it? sigh, let’s get on with the show. bow and glimmer set out to go bring back entrapta. “let’s go get adora!” bow baby. u r so woke. i love that attitude. yes y’all should’ve absolutely brought adora along. no she was not doing anything important. “adora’s training!!!!” glimmer baby i love u but why :( why would u do this :( anyway, bow and glimmer get tricked into thinking the horde is torturing entrapta so they (accidentally) kidnap catra. bow is an absolute sweetheart who just. is sweet to everyone so he tries bonding w catra and is like “come on, i bet even the horde has friends. what about adora? :3 you two grew up together. what was she like as a kid? :3” because adora is bow’s best friend and he wants to know more about her <3 best boy <3 and catra just hisses at him because if she spoke she would probably say. adora was everything to me. adora made me laugh, she played with me, she took care of me, she protected me even when everyone else looked the other way. just seeing her would put a smile on my face. she held my hand. she hugged me. she was my shoulder to cry on. adora was the only good thing in my life at the horde. i have been in love with her my entire life. and now she’s she-ra. anyway. catra decides to annoy glimmer into letting her go, and glimmer gets so frustrated that she says “how did adora take years of this? she didn’t run away from the horde. she ran away from YOU” which. is about the most horrifying thing you could say to catra since she like. really believes that. and adora’s not even there to defend herself :( and say shit like. Well It Helped That I Was In Love With Catra And That Every Moment We Spent Together Was Filled With Laughter And Joy Because No One Else Has Ever Made Me This Happy Even When We Were Stuck Together In The Worst Place On Etheria—stuff like that u know? :/ anyway catra is like :’( —> >:’( “adora’s gonna dump u one day too glimmer!!” + “you and adora are perfect for each other, i’ll give you that. earnest, naive, ridiculously easy to manipulate. it’s adorable!” wow catra. u think…… adora…. is…. adorable? wow…. :’) djdjdjdjdjdj but yeah. she really said my gf is cute! my gf is earnest! and that’s pretty much it on the catradora front. notice how i didn’t say a word about the horse plot. yeah. :) i mean i physically couldn’t because this is a catradora based evaluation post. but ya. u get the point. 7/10

signals: huh! nothing! except when glimmer says “catra was right!” and adora’s face is like... u kno. u know how she gets when catra is suddenly brought up. 2/10 but the whole ghosts thing is cute. adora believing and wholeheartedly being scared of ghosts makes me think... catradora buzzfeed unsolved AU

roll with it: the absolute RIGHTS of this episode. adora planning obsessively because “you’re not taking the biggest variable into account :( catra </3 she’s been behind every horde plan, she led the attack on bright moon, she’s devious, she’s very cute—“ and everyone is like omg adora calm down,,,, okay fine we’ll fantasize about ur gf. so everyone is all: this is my catra headcanon <3 glimmer is like. catra is a sexy femme fatale. bow is like. catra and i would make so many sick fucking puns. and adora is like :( y’all are all headcanoning catra WRONG :( she’s sexy and funny and cute the Way She Is :( why mess with the original recipe? :( except she’s wrong because season 4 and 5 will exist one day. but she is not wrong because season 1-3 catra is also very good. adora u do u. have fun laughing at everyone’s interpretations of ur gf. go ahead and brag about how uve been in love w her ur entire life. adora is like. all ur plans suck. obviously catra would block or duck or jump up really high or look really cute or smile and dazzle u with her charms. how DARE you underestimate my enemy gf. and then everyone devolves into their cool plans again and adora is like CATRA CATRA CATRA >:( so everyone is like ok fine we are going 2 bully her. and we get this epic scene where they do impressions of catra, but it is visualized like: different versions of catra keep flanking adora, and she in that scene is clearly very seriously considering having a fourway with femme fatale catra, prom catra, and punny og catra. but in like uh.... a cool platonic way. anyway, everyone is like. hey adora. we know ur paranoid and obsessed with ur gf. but can we just attack the horde now? could you chill the fuck out? and adora is like. u wanna know the worst that could happen? fine. “i’m the heaviest hitter, so catra will separate me right away. trap me, take my sword, do Something so i’m helpless when she turns on you. she knows Everything about me, EXACTLY what i’ll do, EXACTLY how to take me out. they’ll overwhelm frosta and mermista with bots, they’ll fire on perfuma, and use her to draw bow out into the open, pinning him between the bots and the horde soldiers. glimmer will teleport in to save him, but she won’t have enough magic left to get out, trapping them both. catra will make me watch all of it before she Finishes Me Off.” which..... weirdly kinky, but okay, and also weirdly sweet if u think about it? like catra grew up thinking she was never as good as adora but adora even with her new she-ra powers now is convinced that catra is so good that she can predict and counter and overpower anything adora throws at her, even with her super-powered friends and allies <3 and she...... lets it paralyze her with fear and blames herself for anything that could possibly go wrong which is really sad and not good :( but stuff can be two things! and. we’re kind of trying to be gay here so let’s continue on the gay train <3 the princess alliance realizes that adora has major issues and give her love and support so adora is like oh nice!!! time to run in without a plan and stay true to my brute strength colors <3 and she’s so excited to see her gf..... only to find out, her gf isn’t there?????? the fuck???? she spent hours planning their fight date only to get stood the fuck up??????? she’s so distraught over it as she fights scorpia she goes through the five stages of grief. she’s like... catra’s really not here?? and she left you in charge???? and babe i get that ur jealous and upset that ur gf didn’t show up but hey :( don’t hate crime scorpia like that :( 8/10

white out: adora is upset that she hasn’t seen her enemy gf in a while so when the squad finds out that the horde is doing stuff in the north(?) adora decides that they must immediately go there in case the horde (catra) is doing stuff that she must stop the horde (catra) from doing immediately. and it works! they bump into the super pal trio! but before that, we see entrapta show catra the red disk that makes she-ra go RAGE and adora go floop. it’s basically a Make Adora Delirious/Drunk Crystal <3 catra gets an evil hate boner when she hears that the disk “takes away she-ra’s powers” and is like damn entrapta ;) why didn’t you tell me about that sooner ;) later on, the best friend squad bumps into the super pal trio! adora sees catra and is like. hey remember last episode? what the fuck was that babe. step the FUCK up. run away with me? <3 but here’s a more literal break down of what really happened: catra is threatening entrapta as she... tends to do when she’s interrupted by adora who says “catra! >:(“ completely ignoring that there are other people there who she should also greet. i mean it’s just manners u know? “it’s been a while.” is not an excuse. u haven’t seen entrapta either for an even longer time. and u had nothing to say to her? i get that ur gay and in love but have some respect okay :( catra is happy and decides it’s time to seduce her. we get yet another “heyyy adora ;)” for the books. adora starts to ignore everyone present again and banters pettily with catra about how catra lost the battle of bright moon, because you know :( she hasn’t seen her gf in a while :( and she didn’t get to rub things like that in her face :( and catra is like haha lmaooooo loserrrrr and it really pisses adora off so she’s like okay down to business then! go away >:( and catra’s like oh u want me to go away? make me ;) and so they literally. run away from everyone else. i’m not making this shit up they literally said those things and just ditched the group. and both groups, who have not said a fucking word to each other since this confrontation began because the lesbians are so fucking loud and clearly everything they discuss is personal and not an invitation for group convo, they’re all left there to be like..... i guess we should fight each other now? and scorpia is like UGHHH goddamn it. and u really feel for her u know? :/ u try and u try to ask a girl out and she’s so stupid she doesn’t know ur asking her out on a date, but her stupid ex walks in and all she has to do is run and catra runs in front of her ready to go on a date. what the fuck. anyway, catra and adora are also fighting. adora’s better at transforming her sword into stuff now so she summons a rope (ok kinkster) to grab catra’s leg and pull her towards her and she threatens catra with her sword, saying “don’t move.” catra’s response? “oh, please. you’d never have the guts.” and god damn it catra it’s not that she doesn’t have the guts! :( it’s that she loves you and doesn’t want to hurt you! and also she’s not into necrophilia! catra continues with “you know, as much as i love our fights, it’s way too cold for this.” i hate them so fucking much. they really do get off on this shit!!! i hate them but also mood!!!! stop flirting with each other ur both so goddamn annoying omg. “why don’t we try something new? ;)” yeah. something new like hmm what if y’all kissed? haha, just a suggestion! but no, catra decides to use the red crystal thingy :( haha SIKE i’m not :( at all i’m very much :) because we’ve been WAITING for drunk adora. i love that delirious baby. what a fucking cutie. but because she-ra’s sword is the one who gets poisoned, she-ra goes all angry and evil and catra is like that’s hot! but it’s not what i signed up for but also... oh lmao she’s fighting her friends? nice. this is hot again. complacently, catra goes “this is the greatest thing that’s ever happened!” causing evil!she-ra to realize she exists and trying to kill catra for real, and catra is like NEVER MIND I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS and she’s like “adora wait :(“ which is like. babe no :( babe u were supposed to turn evil in a sexy way :( we could be sexy and evil together baby :( babe :( thankfully for catra adora’s not the only one who has a crush on her so scorpia tackles she-ra, separating her from her sword, and she goes back to adora. catra gets the sword, laughs, and says “that went so much better than i could’ve ever hoped.” did it?????? ur so stupid ur gf was about to murder u and u were ready to simp for ur life. then she goes “looks like you’re mine now, adora. >;)” and like. lifts adora’s face up by the chin with the tail end of the sword. and. let me just take a deep breath here. uh. What The Fuck Is That. HELLO?????? why is that. okay. HHHHHH. why!!!! good god!!!!! i hate sexual tension. anyway, catra tells scorpia to carry adora inside bc adora’s not wearing enough layers and she doesn’t want her gf to get cold :( jk but uh, they get adora inside, and catra is once again obsessed with her. she sits right next to her and pines like “always so perfect.... look at you now.... (i HATE how sexual this sounds) you’re coming back to the horde under my command.....” like. COME ON. why is she like this. ur allowed to be evil but i draw the LINE at u flirting with adora she’s not even AWAKE. and scorpia is like. could u. could u not be obsessed w adora for one second? it’s kinda harshing my vibe :/ and catra is like hehe she ra go >:( haha funney. we can turn the rebellion’s own hero against them. That’s Good™ i wonder which of your friends i’ll have you annihilate first... and then she giggles to herself and it’s so cute but babe. once again. stop flirting with adora while she’s out cold she won’t be able to flirt back :( and then the most. upsetting part of the ep happens. catra LEAVES and makes scorpia watch over adora before adora even wakes up so we don’t get! to see! catra with drunk/delirious adora!!!!!! what the FUCK. what is the POINT. i am DISTRAUGHT. hello?????? why were we robbed. whatever. it’s still good but come on not even one scene? :( scorpia is annoyed as she should be and is like UGH just wanted to be alone with catra but nooooo im stuck babysitting her “”””””ex-best friend””””””” which we all know is code for just. ex. LMAO fkdkdkdk like this isn’t even reaching we BEEN knew. anyway adora is being. so cute. so goddamn cute i am in love. adora barely even remembers her name but when scorpia is like hm what’s the passcode to the lab? adora goes BOOP BOOP BOOP BOOP BOOP and puts in catra’s super long fave number. that is so fucking cute that she knows and remembers that and thinks that catra would use it even tho she’s not even. in the right state of mind. and scorpia gets jealous obviously like ohhhh u know catra’s favorite number and i don’t! u grew up with catra and she’s been in love with you her whole life and i don’t have that! fuck u adora. even when u and catra are fighting each other tryna kill each other u can tell there’s a real bond there :( and like scorpia I’m so sorry baby I know :( they’re in love and it’s very annoying :( and i know adora is very annoying but have you also considered that she is very cute? that she is so lovely? and yeah that’s why catra is in love with her and shit :( seahawk and scorpia fight over adora and adora is like. hehe. catra mean <3 she’s so mean <3 and so hot and cute and sexy <3 omg im gonna marry her hehehehe <3 both sides reconvene to fight the bug, and adora finds glimmer vaguely familiar but doesn’t recognize who she is exactly. but she’ll remember catra’s long ass fave number. ok whore. catra, who’s also stupid, sees adora and is like guess I’ll drop all other priorities to get her! and tells scorpia to find the sword because she’s going after adora again. she’s so determined to keep adora that she.... catches a moving arrow. and throws it away. fjdjdjdjddj DAMN ok sheer gay determination is THAT strong huh. but it’s also sad because catra’s so busy fighting she doesn’t get to see adora being super cute :( it’s fucking wasted and not FAIR. catra thinks it’s funny that anyone would expect her to willingly give the disk up, because she’s got control of adora now, and control of adora means that adora won’t leave her.... which is not healthy :( but also HHHHHH but also it’s okay because their relationship gets healthy in the future and that’s very sexy of them <3 the disk is broken by scorpia in the end, and as adora regains.... conscious???ness????? idk??? her sense of reality??? sobers up???? anyway she and catra exchange this one last very heavy look, right before catra is grabbed by scorpia 9/10, except i want to take away so many points because of the wasted potential, but also i wanna add back so many points because of “looks like you’re mine now, adora ;)”

light spinner: ewwww shadow weaver ewwwww hordak i’m so sorry catra baby so sorry u had to interact with them instead of adora :( 0/10 </3

reunion: I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO FUCKING SORRY. THIS EP IS SO GOOD. BUT. I CANNOT BELIEVE I HAVE TO SAY THIS. THIS IS ONLY BECAUSE THIS IS A CATRADORA EVALUATION OK. therefore the rating is.... is..... :( 0/10 :( i know i am distraught too. :( despite what a masterpiece it was... there was no catradora :(

#text #she ra #catradora #spop #yes hello welcome back to whatever the fuck this is <3 #yes i had to put the readmore in the middle. of the 2x01 evaluation #because. it was long. and i don't want the post to look so long on dashes #so please reblog it u guys <3 #i really loved all the replies on my s1 evaluation #i really hope y'all like this one too :( #if u think i am funny please tell me uwu #i love. to read tags #and asks and replies hehe #anyway have fun!

[k0dzukwen]

ʚ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞 ɞ

- ”I would’ve never thought I would have to say goodbye to my paradise so soon...”

pairing: tendou x gn!reader

genre: angst, tragedy

word count: 1.7k

song inspo: mr. loverman by ricky montgomery mixed with as the world caves in by matt maltese

warnings: major character death, mentions of eating disorder, mild cussing, hospitals, 

pre a/n: if you wanna blame someone for this idea blame rex orange county, jjk newest ep, and my bestfriend ANKNKA ok but fr...i was thinking of who to do for this for about like..30 mins, it was between tendou, kita, and atsumu. i’ll try to do atsumu tonight because i have a AMAZING prompt for him ok? anyways enjoy this :))

“I can show you everything”

You wanted to be shown everything once, you were so eager to go everywhere and memorize every detail. And there was one person who you wanted to travel everywhere with

Satori Tendou

You were captivated by him, thoughts of him fogged your mind daily and you could barely focus. You knew he was the one for you that day you first started as a manager and he offered you candy, along with asking if you read manga. His smile when you said yes and accepted his snack made you melt on the inside, you practically started floating when he sat next to you and started talking about character complexes and powers. You listened to him for hours that day, you secretly wished he had invited you over so he could talk to you more. You went to sleep that night reminiscing over every word, every sentence, every laugh you both shared. 

Were you really that head over heels after one day?

As the days went by you and Tendou grew closer, becoming best friends within weeks. Yet the sparkle in your eyes when he smiled and laughed never faded, the warm feeling from being with him remained with you only growing stronger. You always fell too easily which left you vulnerable to getting hurt, yet with him you wanted to open yourself up completely hoping he would do the same. Months turned into years and before you knew it, You guys were graduating. Everything went by so fast you would believe you blinked and suddenly became a third year, now you were laying in the grass behind the dorms stargazing with your bestfriend who you had unironically fallen in love with. Have you told him how you felt? Nope

“Do you know what paradise is?”, Tendou stared up at the sky the slight light from the lights nearby illuminating his face and causing his eyes to sparkle

“Something or someone you find comfort in, Something you’re so addicted to just doing it or being around it brings you unimaginable joy. You can’t and won’t imagine ever leaving it or stopping it voluntarily” You sighed and looked over at him, gazing into his red eyes, “Why do you ask?”

He laughed and closed his eyes, breathing deeply “This is my paradise...I don’t think I’m ready to leave..” He opened his eyes and smiled, “But you know, This is a part of growing up right?”

“Ugh..” You huff and sit up, “What the hell is growing up anyways?”

Tendou sat up and shifted closer, leaning in so his nose could almost touch yours, “You aren’t old enough to understand”

Your face flushed a deep pink, he was so close to your face if you accidentally moved closer your lips would meet. You smiled at him and burst out laughing, laughing so hard you had to lay back down and hold your stomach. He laughed too, laying next to you and continuing to point out constellations like nothing had happened. What did he even mean “You aren’t old enough to understand”, he was only one year older than you so what did he mean?

Did you really want to know?

You never really understood the term “growing up”, deep down you wanted to stay a a kid forever. You knew that growing up brought unwanted pain and stress and even trauma, if you weren’t stressed with college enough you also had to deal with paying for bills on your studio apartment and making money from the cafe you worked at. And to make it all worse your best friend, the guy you were lovesick for was moving across the country to pursue his dreams

In Paris

You always asked why Paris, didn’t he want to go pro in volleyball? Wasn’t that his paradise? You knew you wanted the best for him but deep down you didn’t want the love of your life to move across the country, you knew you would both lose communication with eachother, you knew he would forget about you and you didn’t want to bear that pain. Yet he didn’t want to listen, he left to paris and exactly what you predicted happened. You started off calling him every day along with texting him, sending him pictures of what you did in everyday life. You didn’t have many friends so you often found yourself waiting for his reply, you knew his job was time consuming but impatience still got the best of you. Hours without a reply turned into days, the realization that you had lost your love ate at your soul. You found yourself skipping meals, and slacking off in school. You knew it was unhealthy and that you needed to stay strong but you couldn’t, his laugh and smile lingered in your dreams. You missed him dearly, but still couldn’t get the confidence to dial his number. One day you couldn’t take it and booked a flight out to Paris, you thought at the moment it would be the best option.

You never even left the hotel

You paced around the room, the TV playing in the background. You knew the chocolate shop he worked at and had a way of transportation but couldn’t bring yourself to go, what if he didn’t remember you? What if he had someone else? You tried to talk yourself up, motivating yourself to press the button

“God damn Y/N just-” You were cut off by a breaking news report, Your gaze switched from your hands to the TV. You squinted at the screen as it showed a report of a young male involved in a car collision, you didn’t even know what the instinct was but you ran out your hotel room down to the lobby, you busted through the entrance and started to run to the hospital the news report specified, tears welled up in your eyes as you ran praying that it was just a mistake. You prayed that the male in critical condition wasn’t who you thought it was, you stumbled and bumped into people as you ran saying a quick “I’m sorry” and keeping your pace. You arrived at the hospital and bust through the doors, running up to the desk

“Please miss, Who was the man involved in the car collision? The one in critical condition?” Tears pricked at your eyes as you stared at the woman in front of you expectantly

“Oh, at first we labeled him a John Doe but after further inspection we have confirmed the mans name is...Satori Tendou, We really shouldn’t give out this info but you seem like a family member or-”

The nurse continued on but you couldn’t hear, everything went silent as if you had just became deaf, Your knees felt weak and threatened to give out. It couldn’t be him, You shook your head and covered your ears despite the fact you couldn’t hear anything, everything started to swirl together like a fever dream. Thats right, it was just a dream, This wasn’t happening. You were gonna wake up from this crazy situation and go see your bestfriend, You were gonna finally see your best friend and he was going to be alive and healthy. Everything was going to be just fine, This was just a sick nightmare thats it

“Excuse me, this is his room. I’m sorry but he has about 20 mins left to live, he can hear but can’t move or respond to anything...I’m sorry”

The doctor patted your back and left the room, gently closing the door to avoid startling you. You hadn’t spoken a word since the news was given to you and of course, you didn’t take it well. You broke down completely, the nurses had to escort you to a room and try to calm you down

But even now you felt nothing but numbness

You stared at Tendous body blankly, gazing at all the tubes coming out of him, the beeping of the heart monitor and pumping of the life support machine kept the room from being completely silent. You felt tears well up into your eyes again and this time you didn’t fight them, you slowly walked towards his bed and gently touched his face. You could feel his face flinch and heard a wimper escape from his body, you let out a quiet sob and placed your hand over your mouth. You remembered how the doctor said he could hear you and feel everything

Feel Everything

He could probably feel the tubes and they were probably painful, He probably didn’t think that life was worth so much pain. 

“Tendou...” Your voice cracked and you sniffed, “I’m so sorry...I should have been there..for you” You sighed and sat down in a chair, leaning on the bed “Did I ever tell you about my paradise? Well unlike you...My paradise was a person, They were super funny and their smile could brighten anyones day” You smiled at the last part, unknowingly laying your head on the bed, “They had am amazing laugh too...It was so contagious I learned to memorize it, whenever I was around them...I felt like I was complete. I felt like I had a life worth living when they were around, I loved them..letting them go was the hardest thing, but at least they were safe and happy...” You started to choke up, tears streaming down your face, “You’re my paradise Tendou...I’m in love with you and I want to stay here forever if It means I’ll be with you”. You looked up at the monitor noticing how it was slowing down, You didn’t know much about medicine and medical things but you knew that wasn’t a good sign. You gently grabbed his cold hand and squeezed it, you blinked through tears and opened your mouth. You didn’t know what to say until the monitor started to rapidly beep, fear shot through your body causing your tears to flow faster and your body to shake. You broke your gaze from the monitor and looked at Tendou, his skin was pale and you could barely see his face through all the tubes

“I would have never thought...I would have to say goodbye to my paradise so soon. I love you Satori, I’m sorry I was too late” 

↳𝐞𝐧𝐝 

post a/n: currently sitting here crying, i’m not even attached to Tendou like that and i’m HURT why do i do these things to myself i’m sorry to whovever reads this </3

#haikyu x reader #tendou satori #haikyu angst #haikyuu!! #hq x reader #hq tendou #tendou angst #tendou x reader #tendou x y/n #tendou imagine #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu tendou #tendou

[rushingheadlong]

Make It Up (As You Go Along) - A Freddie x m!Reader fic

Summary: Freddie’s birthday is quickly approaching… and so is yours. The only problem is that Freddie doesn’t know that, and you don’t particularly want to tell him.

Words: ~2200

Tags: Male Reader, H/C, brief mention of a bad relationship with parents

Notes: Happy birthday to Freddie! And also happy birthday to me, because my birthday is also September 5th and as such I have written this absolutely self-indulgent birthday-themed fic as a gift for myself.

You regret the lie the moment that it slips out. You had been hoping that the subject of your birthday would somehow never come up, but with all the preparations for Freddie’s party in full swing it was only a matter of time before he asked you, “Oh, darling, by the way, when’s your birthday?” and when he did you just panicked.

“Oh, ah- May. May 14th,” you tell him… except that’s not really your birthday at all.

Freddie pouts a little. “So I have to wait half a year to spoil you rotten?”

You for a laugh and lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You say that as if you don’t spoil me rotten every day of the week anyway.”

“Well, I can’t help it when I have a gorgeous boyfriend like you,” Freddie says. He catches you around the waist before you can pull away and kisses you properly, and you let yourself melt against him a little as the lie fades from your thoughts.

And it is easy to forget about the lie. Freddie’s birthday, you’re given to understand, is always a huge production but he takes a certain amount of genuine joy in planning it and you love seeing him this happy. He keeps asking your opinion on decorations or invitation lists and you like being involved in it all. You’ve never been able to plan a proper birthday party before, and even if you know that Freddie will always just do whatever he wants to do you like seeing it all come together anyway.

Freddie’s party is scheduled for September 6th, a Friday night, but Thursday morning you wake up to find flowers and cards and gifts already streaming into the house. Freddie is in the lounge with a cup of tea and that’s where you join him as Phoebe and Joe sort through all of the deliveries.

“Good morning, my love,” Freddie greets you as you curl up next to him. You’re not nearly as much of a morning person as Freddie is and you let your eyes slip closed as you cuddle close against his side.

“Good morning,” you mumble in response.

Freddie laughs and kisses the top of your head. “I’ll have Phoebe bring you a cup of tea, alright?”

“Alright,” you say, though it comes out more like a soft slur of vowels instead of an actual word.

You don’t really fall asleep again, but you do doze off a little as Freddie asks Phoebe to bring you some tea and he accepts another stack of cards from Joe which he perfunctorily riffles through before setting aside. It’s cozy here at Freddie’s side, with only the sound of Phoebe and Joe talking in hushed whispers in the hall breaking the last of the morning’s quietness that’s still clinging to the house.

“Oh, Joe, dear, we don’t have any more room for flowers in here, take those somewhere else, why don’t you?” Freddie says, softly, so as not to disturb you.

“Sorry Freddie, but these- Well, these aren’t for you.”

“What do you mean they aren’t for me? Who are they for then?”

“The card says they’re for Y/N.”

It takes a moment for the words to register, but when they do it feels like someone dropped a bucket of ice water down your spine. You scramble to sit up, your stomach already twisting into knots, just as Freddie asks, “What? Why? What else does the card say?”

“Dear Y/N, We hope you have-”

“Joe, stop-” you try to say, but it’s too late.

“-a very happy birthday.” The color drains out of Joe’s face and he looks up at you, uncertain and apologetic.

“Birthday?” Freddie echoes, giving you a disbelieving look. “What do you mean, birthday?”

“They- It must be from someone who just wrote the wrong name on the card!” you say with a nervous laugh. “Obviously, they’re not really for me-”

“Sorry, Y/N. The card says they’re from your parents,” Joe says quietly.

You stand up and wrench the flowers from his hands and, yes, sure enough they’re from your parents. How they found out you were living with Freddie you have no idea - probably one of your sisters, and you’ll have to have words with them later. But that doesn’t help you now, with Joe standing awkwardly next to you and Freddie staring at you with the beginnings of anger starting to creep into his eyes.

“Birthday,” he says again. “You said your birthday was in May, Y/N. So why are you getting flowers from your parents now?”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want them-”

“This isn’t about the fucking flowers!” Freddie snaps, and Joe makes a quick escape out of the room. “This is about you, apparently, lying to me about your birthday! When is it, really?”

You gnaw on your lip, and look away from him, and debate throwing yourself out of the window to avoid this conversation.

“Y/N,” Freddie says. “When is your birthday?”

You swallow harshly and stare down at the floor as you finally come clean. “Today. September 5th.”

“Today,” Freddie repeats. “You- Your birthday is today. We share a birthday and you lied about it? Why?”

You open your mouth, close it, swallow again. The words are there but they stick in your throat and don’t want to come out, and you hear Freddie snort in disgust after a too-long moment of silence. “Right, well, let me guess then. You thought I’d throw some diva fit about having to share the spotlight with you, so you thought you’d just lie to me instead, was that it?”

“No! No, Freddie, no-”

“I thought you, of all people, would know that I’m not like that, but I guess I was wrong,” Freddie continues as if he didn’t hear you talking, and maybe he didn’t. You finally look up at him but he’s no longer looking at you, at least not directly. He’s staring down at the floor, his hands clenched tightly together, and even with his face partially hidden you can see the tightness in his mouth that tells you that he really is properly angry about this.

“Well, if that’s the sort of person you think I am, then you can get the hell out of my house,” Freddie says as he looks back up at you. His eyes are hard, his jaw is set, but there’s a real pain on his face too that cuts you to see.

And you’re angry now too, angry that Freddie is jumping to these conclusions instead of giving you one damn second to gather your thoughts and try to explain your actions to him. “If that’s what you want then fine, I’ll leave!” you snap. “Because I don’t fucking need to be with someone who’s so fucking self-centered that everything always has to be about him!”

Something flashes across Freddie’s face and he shifts, a little uncomfortable, but you’re on your own tirade now and nothing - not even Freddie fucking Mercury - can stop you.

“I don’t need you, Freddie! I don’t need this house or my birthday or these stupid flowers from my parents who don’t give a fuck about me anyway!” You throw the flowers onto the ground and the vase shatters, sending water and shards of glass and plant material flying across the floor, and causing Freddie to shout and jump to his feet.

“You want to know why I lied about my birthday? Because it doesn’t fucking matter! My birthday has never mattered! My family doesn’t care, my friends have never cared, and at this point I don’t fucking care either!” you yell at Freddie. “All I wanted was to enjoy your party and celebrate your birthday, because mine has never been important!”

You turn to leave, but Freddie grabs your wrist just as you reach the doorway and says, “Y/N. Wait, please, wait.”

You don’t turn around. You don’t want Freddie to see the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “What do you want, Freddie?” you ask, and it doesn’t come out angry anymore. Even to your own ears, you just sound tired.

“Come back to the sofa with me. Let’s talk about this properly, alright?” Freddie says gently. His thumb is rubbing along the inside of your wrist and you can feel your resolve, and the last of your anger, starting to crumble.

“Alright,” you relent after a moment.

You let Freddie gently coax you back around and his face crumbles when he sees the tears. “Oh, Y/N…” He reaches up and gently wipes them away, and you can’t hold back a small sniffle at his tenderness. He cradles your face in his hands and kisses your forehead and says, “I am so sorry for what I said, love. I didn’t mean a word of it, and I should have let you explain instead of jumping to conclusions.”

“I shouldn’t have lied to you,” you say, absolutely miserably. “I’m sorry Freddie, I panicked and I regretted it the moment I said it but I didn’t know how to take it back-”

“It’s alright, darling, I promise it’s alright,” Freddie cuts in before you can work yourself up too badly. “Let’s go sit down, alright? We’ll sit down and we’ll talk about this like the rational adults we always pretend to be.”

You manage a small smile at that and let Freddie lead you back to the couch. You don’t curl up against him like you did before - god, those half-asleep cuddles feel so long ago now - but Freddie takes your hand in his, and that’s alright for now.

“I’m sorry, Freddie,” you apologize again. “I shouldn’t have lied, I know that, I just… Well, I hate my birthday. My family never celebrated it, not really. Oh, my parents would make a show of taking me out to dinner at restaurants they chose and giving me practical, respectable gifts instead of anything I actually wanted…” You shake your head. “God, that makes me sound so selfish, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not selfish to want a little bit of attention on your birthday,” Freddie says, but you shake your head.

“I don’t want attention, though. That’s why I lied,” you tell him. “I don’t like celebrating my birthday. I don’t like people making a fuss over me, and every time I’ve tried to have a party my friends have all been busy anyway. I don’t like being given a ton of things that I don’t need and don’t want and have to pretend to care about so I don’t hurt other people’s feelings. I just want to have some time alone to do something nice for myself.” You manage to give Freddie a small smile and add, “Or else spend the day with someone I love.”

Freddie smiles back at you, but there’s still a hint of hurt in his eyes - and you only realize that it’s for you when he says, “I’m so sorry, lovie. I’m sorry that you’ve never had a birthday that you’ve enjoyed. If you don’t want to celebrate that’s perfectly alright but, darling, we could have done something. Phoebe could have baked your favorite scones for breakfast, instead of just mine. We could have made arrangements to go out to your favorite restaurant for dinner tonight, and I could have bought you your favorite flowers even if you didn’t want anything else.”

“Do you even know what my favorite flowers are?” you ask with a small, watery laugh.

“Peach roses,” Freddie says, without hesitation. “And tulips, in any color. And lilacs. And daffodils.” He does laugh a little then, and adds, “You like most flowers, but those are your favorites.”

“They are,” you have to admit, and you’re crying again but luckily Freddie is still there to wipe the tears away again. “I’m so-”

“If you apologize again, I will have to do something drastic to shut you up,” Freddie says, teasing. “It’s quite alright. I’m only upset that today is going to be entirely about me, when it should be about you as well, so if there’s anything you want today…”

“There isn’t anything, not really,” you tell him. “I just want to spend the day with you.”

“Well then, I think that can be arranged.” Freddie stands up and gently pulls you to your feet as well. “Let’s start off by going back upstairs so we can enjoy our birthdays together.” He looks at the mess on the floor from where you smashed the vase and adds, “And so this can get cleaned up.”

You look down at the mess and wince a little. “I should-”

“You should come upstairs with me,” Freddie interrupts gently. “Joe or Phoebe can handle it, and you can apologize to them later if that will make you feel better.” He kisses you, so tenderly that it makes your chest ache, and murmurs against your lips. “Come to bed, Y/N. Please?”

“Yes,” you breathe against his mouth, and you feel him smile against you - before he pulls away and, beaming, leads the way back up to the bedroom.

#freddie mercury fanfic #freddie mercury x male reader #queen band fanfic #queen band fic #my fic #freddie #(wasn't going to post this but the DL server convinced me to so... blame this on them? fladskjflak) #(I'm entirely joking thank u guys for talking me into putting this up here)

[concealeddarkness13]

WHG 15 Post-Games Imposter Syndrome Part 29

Trigger warning for torture and blood and violence. This happens the day after part 28! Tagging: @ratracechronicler (also thanks for Hugo!), @maple-writes (also thanks for Aurora and Volt!), @pen-of-roses, and @thoughts-of-nora!

The day after the interview, I looked at my phone messages again. I had never responded to “Shine”, but after that interview, it was time to take the chance. If I couldn’t escape during the masquerade, the Capitol could force me to stay with Fallion. If it was a trap, I couldn’t be any worse off than I was now. I took a deep breath and sent the text. I’ll meet you tonight, if the offer still stands.

A few minutes later, the person responded. Perfect. Meet me here. I’ll get Nesri to come too. I flinched at Nesri’s name. They sent a map with a location marked off. It was in an alley, which was the perfect meeting place for someone who was supposed to be dead, or the perfect meeting place for a trap. But I had to take this chance. I sent a thumbs up.

And my door slammed open. I set my phone down as nonchalantly as possible as I smiled over at Churi. With a nice glare to complement it. I jumped up as he walked in. And, oh joy, Aurora herself was behind him. What were they planning? “To what do I owe the pleasure of having not one, but two important Capitol officials in my room? I’m hardly dressed for the occasion.” I just had on a normal tank top and practical pants.

Aurora just piped up. “I think you know what you did.”

What the fuck? I had been obedient during the interview, and it had been Bystander who had scared Fallion off. What else could she be talking about? Me being rude? I smirked over at her. “Aw. Are someone’s feelings hurt?”

Churi stomped up to me and grabbed the front of my shirt. I didn’t try to fight back. There was no reason. “You’re almost not worth the trouble it takes to keep you in line. What will it take, girl?” Aw, were both of their feelings hurt? I smirked at him. But then he put a knife to my throat and cut it shallowly. “You should learn your place.”

In the background, Aurora moved her hair to the side to show off a scabbed over cut on her neck. What the fuck? What the hell was she pulling? I opened my mouth to say something, but Churi brought the knife up to my mouth, and I snapped it shut. He smirked. “That smart mouth of yours will get you into trouble. I should just cut out your tongue now.”

Shit. I tried to back off, but he wouldn’t let me move. So, kept moving my head away as his knife followed me. I dared open my mouth sparingly, eyeing Aurora. “You know, I think the show wouldn’t be much of a show if I couldn’t speak. Wouldn’t people ask questions?”

Aurora crossed her arms as I kept trying to dodge the knife. “Oh, now you want to do as you’re told? Funny how that works. Should have thought of that earlier.” She thought a bit and sighed. “Though I don’t particularly want to make more work for myself either.” She stepped further into the room, nodding at Churi. “Perhaps start with something else while we think. Take her hair perhaps? Tell everyone she had a night caught in the horrors of the arena and acted rashly in front of a mirror?”

The piece of shit. I didn’t try to say or do anything, though, when Churi tightened his grip on my shirt and grinned. “With pleasure.” Shit. I stiffened but didn’t make a move against them as he grabbed my hair and hacked his knife through my hair. As it tugged and pulled, tears involuntarily blurred my vision, and he also shallowly cut my neck, as if by accident, as he made a mess of my hair. Big chunks of it fell at my feet, and the tears slipped down my cheeks from both the pain and the humiliation. Aurora was just watching.

When Churi was finally done, he put the knife back on my throat. “Are you having second thoughts about mouthing off now?”

I tried to sound cheerful, but it didn’t work as well as I’d like. “I never even wasted time on first thoughts. That would be too much time wasted on the likes of you.”

“Maybe if you spent time on first thoughts as you call them you wouldn’t be in the position you are right now.” Aurora stared daggers into me. How fun. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson about attacking Capitol personnel.”

Wait, what? I frowned. “Indigo?”

Churi slammed the hilt of the knife into the back of my head, and I crumpled on the ground, dazed. Shit. “Don’t play stupid!” He slashed my back, and I bit back a scream. “You know what you did! And after every precaution I took for you, you’ve still gotten around everything!” He slashed my back more, but I still didn’t scream. But then he plunged the knife into my lower back, and I screamed, tears streaming down my cheeks from the pain. Shit. I couldn’t do anything. I was helpless.

Through the blur of tears, I saw Aurora walk over to my bed. Had she noticed my phone? Would she see my messages with “Shine”? Shit. I tried to get up, but I could barely move. She reached down, under my pillow, and pulled out a…glass shard? What the hell? She showed it to Churi. “What have we here?”

Why was this such a big deal? I frowned. “What the hell—?”

Churi took the knife out of my back, and a fresh wave of pain made me scream again. He grabbed my right hand. “After everything. Why won’t you break? Why won’t you give in? You were never supposed to exist anyway, so why can’t I stomp you out, crush that pride?” He stabbed the knife straight through my hand, digging around in a circle. I screamed, blinded by pain and tears. Why? Just because I had mouthed off at her?

Churi hissed out a breath and turned me over. I glared up at him, but it wasn’t that effective with tears still streaming down my cheeks. He laughed. “You were never meant to be born, and honestly, I should just kill you now. But I’m too nice. So, I’ll just brand you instead.” He cut into the skin around my collarbone, and when he was done with that, he moved to the other side. And I screamed. It was just too much. “You’re just a worthless and helpless human, and you now have the scars to prove it.”

I just stayed crumpled on the ground as Churi and Aurora left, and a minute later, the healer came and made it all worse. But at least I wasn’t bleeding out anymore.

I didn’t move the rest of the day until it was about time to leave for the meeting. It wasn’t going to be real. Was it just a coincidence that Churi tortured me right after I accepted the offer? They knew what was going on. They were just fucking with me again. But I had to try. It was my only chance.

I couldn’t make my hair look any better. I didn’t have any scissors, or even a brush. So, if it really was someone friendly, they’d see me as a wreck. Oh well. At least it was too dark to see my scars. I had looked in the mirror, and the scars on my collarbone said “worthless” and “helpless”.

I headed out to the alley the person had indicated, and I waited for the text. Sure enough, a few minutes later, a text showed up on my phone. Bring me that horizon. Fly out to the sea.

I swallowed hard and texted back. I’m horizon bound. This was it. The moment of truth. I stepped out of the darker shadows and squinted at the two figures at the other end.

I recognized that shock of messy hair. Shine? Were they really alive? And…and Volt too? My voice cracked when I spoke. “Volt? Shine? You’re really alive?”

Volt nodded and took a hesitant step forward, but I ran for Shine and hugged them tightly as I started sobbing. They hugged me back. They were really here. They were alive. Indigo had lied to me. I spoke in between sobs. “I—I was told you were killed.”

They moved back and took out their phone, putting me on a group message with Volt. “Repeat that?”

While Volt spoke up. “What?”

Shit. I had completely forgot I had to text them. They couldn’t read my lips at night. And they probably didn’t know about what Indigo had said about them. I wiped my eyes furiously and texted. “Indigo told me that she found Shine and killed them. She even showed me their decoy phone to prove it.” I pulled it out and handed it to Shine, who stared at it a little before taking it.

They texted back quickly. “That bastard scientist. I just ran into her at her office building, and she didn’t try shit.”

Volt scowled and texted as well. “Indigo is nothing but a coward. She wouldn’t do anything like that on her own.”

I sniffled a little, still on the verge of tears. “She said that she had found them already badly hurt, and she just put them out of their misery.” Volt spit out a string of curse words, and I laughed. “Don’t worry. I beat her up pretty badly after she told me that she killed them.” Shine sent a laughing emoji.

Volt nodded. “Good.”

Shine nodded as well. “So, about that masquerade. I think that would probably be the best time to get everyone out. Reine, Volt, Ariel, and Syl escaped, so they’re safe. And the crew escaped as well. So, we just need to rescue you, Hugo, Enzo, Lewison, Avery, and Scorpio. Do you know if everyone will be at the party?”

I nodded. “I think so.”

Shine continued texting. “It’ll be hard for security to keep track of everyone at the masquerade, so we should be able to get everyone out. We have Volt’s hovercraft, so that should be a good escape route. It will still be difficult, but we can discuss with our separate groups and figure it out later. Also, do any of you still have your trackers in?”

I frowned. I hadn’t even thought about the tracker. “I think just me. I wasn’t able to get mine out.”

“That’s good, if we only have to remove one it might not be too bad,” Volt texted. She looked up, thinking. “We’ll have to find a non suspicious way to get rid of it.”

Shine nodded. “I could potentially make a machine that disables it, but we’ll need a backup plan just in case I can’t make it fast enough, which is probable. We can’t just take it out now because that will be noticed right away. And we don’t want any suspicion from the Capitol right now.”

“And if one of us does it I worry someone might see through our disguises.” Volt sighed, but then she brightened. “I’ve been told Warren will be there. I wonder if they would be willing to do it since the capitol doesn’t have any reason to be looking for them.”

Shine responded. “That’ll work. But if I can’t finish the machine, they might have to cut out the tracker. Would they be ok with that?”

“I might have to talk them into it a little but they’ll understand the importance.”

I nodded. “That is a good idea. Thanks. I’ll discuss with my group about more plans.” I moved to a text with just Shine. “I’m just so glad you’re alive.”

They smirked. “What, you thought a stupid scientist like her could stop me?”

I had missed them so much. “Sorry for not believing in you.”

They shook their head and patted my shoulder. “I don’t blame you. I can’t imagine what they’ve been putting you through. What happened to your hair?”

So, they did notice. Shit. “Stupid shit, as usual.” I glanced over at Volt. “I’d like to talk with her, if that’s ok.”

Shine nodded, and I turned to Volt, tears threatening to spill over again. “I’m—I’m so glad to see you. I’m glad I didn’t fuck everything up.”

Volt pulled me into a tight hug, and I folded into her arms. I felt so safe. “I thought you were gone, all of you.”

Shit. I started sobbing. “Thank you for being here. I would have understood if you had just left. Everyone else who was captured is okay. Not fine, but they’re not defeated yet. And I’ll make sure they’re ready for the party.”

She swallowed hard. “I left you once when we left the arena and I’m not doing that again.” She pulled back after a while longer, but she kept her hands on my shoulders. “Stay strong just a little longer and it’ll be over soon.”

“Thank you. I’ll try.” I frowned. Wait, hadn’t Shine said that Nesri would be here? “By the way, how’s Nesri doing? Shine said she was here too, and they were going to get her to come with them, but I see that didn’t work.”

“She’s busy being a growing concern who refuses bed rest.” Volt smiled a little. “But she’s recovering.”

I laughed. That sounded like her. She could never sit still. “Thank you for watching over her too. I owe you a lot.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t mind, and she’s been keeping Skyler busy.”

I opened my mouth to say something else, but I glanced at my phone. It was getting way too late. I didn’t want them to come looking for me. I frowned. “I should go back before they get suspicious,” I said, then moved to text to Shine. “Thank you so much. Keep in touch.” I turned back to Volt. “Thank you for this. I feel a lot better now. I’ll be in touch.” I hugged Volt once more and started walking off.

Wait, what about Hugo? I hadn’t told anyone else about the meeting, since it could have been a trap. But they had been close too. I turned back before Volt and Shine left. “Do you have a message I can give Hugo?”

She looked back at me. “I don’t plan on leaving here without you. Keep your head up and hang in there.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I walked back. At least that had been real. Now, I just had to make sure I didn’t fuck this opportunity up.

When I got back to the apartment, I walked straight to Hugo’s door. I just had to tell him that we had hope. That it was going to be okay. I cracked open his door and poked my head in. “Hugo! Wake up!” In a whisper since I didn’t want to wake up anyone else.

He rustled and muttered something, but he didn’t wake up. The little jerk. I laughed a little and walked over to his bed. I half whispered again. “Hugo! I have good news!”

He scowled, his hair even more wild than normal. “It’d better be all-you-can-eat pancakes. What?”

I grinned and sat down on the bed next to him. He was just so awesome and funny! “I was able to get in contact with one of my crew, and I was able to meet with them and Volt! And we have the start of a plan that should actually work!”

He sat up and stretched. “Your crew. So they’re okay? And Volt?”

I kept grinning. It was just amazing. Shine was alive, and all of them were safe. “Yeah! Shine’s—they’re okay! They’re all okay! And Volt gave me a message for you: ‘I don’t plan on leaving here without you. Keep your head up and hang in there.’.” I sniffed, fighting back tears again. “They’re all okay. And I didn’t fuck everything up. And we have a plan. We’ll discuss it more, but it sounds like the best time to escape is during the masquerade.”

He sat for a while, not saying anything, and I just basked in the high of seeing Shine again. I shook myself out of it when he spoke again. “…Masquerade?” He flubbed the pronunciation, but close enough. “That’s the plan?”

“It probably will be the best time when the guards are spread too thin. We’ll discuss it more. It’ll be hard, but it’s better than any plan I’ve come up with.”

He didn’t speak for a bit. “Oh—okay, good.” He smiled a little. “Yeah. A plan!” He nodded. “Knew I could count on you.” That felt like a blow to the stomach, but I kept the smile on my lips. “Sorry I wasn’t part of the brains behind it. But I’ll do my part, whatever it is. Just tell me what I gotta do when the time comes and I’ll trust you, alright?”

I froze and looked away from him. Why did he trust me? I choked on my tears. “I didn’t…do anything really. Shine was the one who contacted me. They convinced me to meet with them. They told me that the masquerade would be the best time. You really shouldn’t trust me. All I’ve done is fuck things up. I’m just happy someone else has a plan.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, and I tried to furiously wipe away my tears before they could fall. There was a ripping sound, and I looked up in enough time to see him finish ripping off a corner of his blanket. What? He handed it to me. “Maybe just let that out. Whatever it is, it looks painful holding it back. I won’t judge.”

I didn’t deserve him. I laughed a little through the tears. “I thank your blanket for its sacrifice.” I sighed and leaned back. “I’ve just been lucky to have friends like you. I would never have been able to get this far alone. Thank you.”

He took a deep breath. “Hey. Nobody gets far alone, okay? I’ve been thinking. You know that grand old ship we were on? I wondered a little what’d happen if I tried taking it for myself—just stupid thoughts you get when you’re bored. I wouldn’t get anywhere, would I? Cuz you need someone at the lines and the helm and the galley and so many things at once. And everybody fucks up sometimes, but the rest of the crew’s there to throw ‘em a lifeline and keep the whole thing going. That’s how I think maybe it is. I mean, a skiff, you could sail alone, but you’d drown in the first storm. Life’s too rough a sea to sail alone. At least, that’s how I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t know if that helps at all.”

Oh shit. I really was going to cry. All that he was saying was true. But…I was a captain. I had a responsibility to keep others safe, not so much the other way around. I didn’t trust my voice, so I didn’t speak.

He uncurled a little and sounded awkward, but earnest. “Do…do you need a hug? Would that help?”

What? I stared at him for a while, but I had stopped crying, at least. “Well, yeah, it would be nice. But I know you don’t like them…”

He shrugged. “You’re okay. I like seeing you upset a lot less.”

I really didn’t deserve him. I started sobbing as I hugged him tightly. It was a little pointy because of his elbows, but I couldn’t ask for a better hug. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

I stayed for a while longer after the hug, but when I knew I was about to collapse from exhaustion, I left before I accidentally fell asleep on his bed. And I didn’t have any nightmares.

#tw: torture #tw: blood #tw: violence #writeblr hunger games #writeblr

[heartofsnark]

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter One): I'll let you in if you say it's okay

Notes: So, I’m taking inspiration from more than one lifepath start for my V and overall, I’m not sure how I feel about this first chapter. I’m not as confident in it as I have been in some of my other works and it’s undergone some heavy rewrites. But I’m officially sick of looking at it, so lets go. Still getting a feel for writing the cyberpunk characters too, tbh.

Word Count:  13083

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Internal Feels and struggles, (Aidan/V is very conflicted and struggling), Morning after sex

If you haven’t yet, please read the prologue: link here

Four years, a million miles, and a new alias later, not Aidan but V is standing in a motel bathroom, fresh from the shower. There’s a bruise forming on her chin from what she can’t remember. She touches up the two shaved slits in her left eyebrow, a pointless aesthetic choice given she wears a mask, she knows. But, she likes it and that’s what matters most. She pulls her bleached blonde hair back into a little ponytail, before brushing her teeth and changing. 

She fastens her mask, a repurposed scav mask that she uses, not only to hide from her former family but to help her function in this world. No longer the green with red and pink faces the scavs use, it’s now black with white x-d out eyes and a wicked toothy grin. Vaguely cartoony and ominous, not her choice, but she’s far too nostalgic to ever change it. 

Data and logistics flash across her vision, optic tech coming to life now that the mask is on. Finally, she puts in her hearing aids,  the noise of the world coming back to her, the hum of a broken AC, the beat of a song coming from the radio, and a woman’s snoring drifting through the paper-thin walls. V pulls up her hood before she leaves the bathroom, ready to begin, her throat tight as she thinks of what the day holds. 

I saw in you what life was missing

You lit a flame that consumed my hate

I'm not one for reminiscing but

I'd trade it all for your sweet embrace

The radio plays an old song from Ava’s favorite band, V knows the heavy drone of them anywhere, though she never can quite recall their name or song titles, only reminded of the days she pretended to give a shit about them in hopes it’d earn her at least a pity kiss. Why the hell the radio still plays music that old is beyond her.  She turns her hearing aids volume down a little lower. 

Music brought down to a hum, V’s attention turns to the bed, a woman who’s name she can’t remember is tangled in the sheets. Sun streaming through the window to shine on a bare freckled shoulder, the woman is around V’s age, maybe a year or two older with a pixie cut of dyed lilac hair. She fits in well with V’s track record of bedmates; unable or unwilling to give even half of what she got, leaving the nomad to take care of herself. But, as much as she’d appreciate an orgasm from something other than her own hand, she gets what she wants from them in the end; a glorified body pillow that helps her sleep. 

“Mmm,  you up?” The woman asks, stirring from under the blankets, she pushes a hand into her hair. She blinks her eyes a few times, before taking in V’s outfit, “you’re leaving already?”

V’s mask optics quickly reads lips, giving the world subtitles, essential when she wants to forgo hearing aids. The tech is far more advanced than the human eye when it comes to lip reading. The only downside is the mask requires someone to be facing her as they speak. So, the hearing aids are still necessary unless people are kind enough to accommodate her; which they never are. 

“Gotta get back on the road,” V signs, a modulator translator in her mask speaks it in a monotone AI voice. 

“You don’t wanna get breakfast or…?” 

“No time,” V crouches down beside the bed, so she can properly meet the woman’s eyes and, “you remember what I told you, don’t you?” 

“About not telling anyone what you look like or whatever…?” 

“No whatever’s to it, if anyone comes around asking about me, you keep your mouth shut. Got it?” 

“Yeah yeah, crystal clear, asshole.” The woman groans, not liking the aggressive tone V’s picked up, but it’s a serious matter. Most people get it, everyone nowadays seems to have enemies, but apparently not everyone understands. More flies with honey as they say. 

“I’m sorry,” she signs, “it’s just important to me, life or death. I’ll order some room service for you before I go, sound good?” 

“Hmm…I like pancakes.” 

“Alright, I’ll put the order in then head out.” 

“Okay…I won’t tell anyone, about you, promise.” 

“I appreciate that,” V signs, putting in the room service order on the tablet provided. 

Thankfully, pancakes are enough to earn the woman’s silence on the matter. The less people who have a bone to pick with her, the better. Though, she still hopes The Herd can’t follow her where she’s going anyway. Dufflebag thrown over her shoulder, V leaves the motel, stepping out into the dry heat of California. Even in the early months of 2077, the desert is burning hot, though it will be freezing by nightfall. The joys of the Badlands. 

Yucca is a little nothing town south of Night City, surrounded by long agonizing stretches of desert. Not a place she’d give another thought to if not for her vehicle breaking down. The cargo in the trunk, locked up so the mechanic can’t get nosy, is meant for a client in Night City. The job came with forms and docs that’ll get her past the border. 

She rolls up the metal garage door to the shop, seeing the older man in a trucker hat and flannel working over her car. The old Thorton Galena “Rattler”, bought off a Bakker nomad, who thankfully had no idea who her birth family is. It’s put together with rust, duct tape, and luck, bought for fifty eddies because it’s a walking tetanus trap; but it’s hers.  

“Hey…drifter…” He greets her with a weary expression. 

There’s two kinds of folks in these small towns that are scattered across  the country like stars. Those who are weary of outsiders, know the dangers that lurk across the Badlands and have their guard up the moment someone they don’t know shows up. And for them, her refusal to show her face or speak with her own voice only adds to the suspicion. 

And then there’s the other ones, the ones like that lilac haired girl still curled up in dusty sheets, eating shitty motel pancakes. The ones who see her, the people like her, the nomads, the drifters who travel the country and they see someone who can bring a moment of excitement to their dull little lives. The ones bored to tears with watching tumbleweeds all day and will climb in bed with V and their own preconceived notions of who she is just to have a night of excitement. 

Each sees danger when they look at her, chaos in human form, someone who may just disrupt the status quo of their piss-pot of a town. An idea that terrifies or excites them. Then the realization hits that she’s just breezing through, a ghost without a trace. And for a moment they’ll be relieved or disappointed, then they’ll forget she was ever there. 

“You got my car fixed?” she signs before she rolls the garage door down a foot or two shy of the ground. 

“Not quite, electric coupling module is shot to shit.” 

“You said it was an easy fix.” 

“Guess I was wrong,” he turns to face her, arm crossed over his chest, “you could always find a new shop, find someone else who won’t question some scav lookin’ nomad why she’s hugging the border.” 

“I’m not a fuckin’ scav, move,” she signs before shoving him away from her car engine, if he can’t get this thing up and running, she’ll do it her god damn self. She needs to get to Night City, yesterday, she’s already frustrated and him acting like he’s doing her a favor by staring at her engine for an hour isn’t helping. 

“Got any idea what you’re doing?” Condescension drips from the mechanic’s words. 

“Gonna, rig a hotwire, bypass the coupling.” She switches out some plugs, trying to find something, anything that will save her heap. 

“Compressor will run on and on, could seize up.” 

“Better than standing around scratching my head.” 

She walks around her Rattler, pulling open the driver side door and climbing in. Please, any god listening right now, don’t fuck this up for her. V presses down the ignition and tries to rev the engine; sputters but doesn’t start. 

“It’s like I was telling you,” the mechanic grumbles, so she tries again and another sputter. 

“Fuck off,” she signs, wishing the tone of the AI voice would better convey her frustration as she begs her car, her baby, to start. 

Come on baby, she thinks and her hands twitch to sign, her voice catching. Her desperation nearly making her verbal. Her rattler, her baby, her beautiful heap of rust and luck has carried her through three years in the Badlands. Just a little further, into the city, and V will find her a decent mechanic to give her vehicular child the treatment she deserves. She presses the ignition and revs the gas. 

And that engine roars to life and it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard, her baby lives, she fucking lives! V can’t contain her smile, thankfully hidden behind the cover of her mask, she could scream. She’s starting the next chapter of her life with her baby by her side. 

“Not too shabby, question is how long will it last you,” the mechanic rains on her parade as he shuts the hood. 

“Better than whatever you were trying.” 

V rolls her eyes and gets her walkie talkie radio out, hooking it to a jack in her car to try to boost a signal; she needs to let her client know she’s coming into the city, so they can prepare to pick up the cargo. 

“Antennae on this heap don’t look like it packs much of a punch, doubt you’ll hear much.” 

There was a broadcasting comms tower outside of the town, she saw it as she made her way in, she’ll get in and boost her signal with it. Should be fairly easy. She just wants to make it into the city, her chance at a new life. Seventeen years with The Herd, under her father’s thumb. Three years running, never able to settle down, never knowing when her family would find her when she’d be put down. Years wasted, she’s ready to live, to really live on her own fucking terms. 

A flash of khaki fabric, visible through the opened gap in the garage door catches her eye and a chill runs down her spine. Trouble. Black cybernetic hands catch the bottom of the metal door and roll it up; an older man in a sheriff’s uniform with a cowboy hat comes strolling in. 

“Hey, Mike, didn’t know you had a customer…” He draws out, looking over V as if she was carrying the plague. 

“Just rolled in a few hours ago, I, uh, thought she would have told you.”

“Now, don’t you worry, we’re gonna hash this out,” the sheriff says, strolling over to her, he puts an arm up on her car roof, leaning against her open car door  and looming over her, “Don'tcha know you owe the sheriff a word when you pay his town a visit? To tell him what brought you here, maybe even over a cup of coffee.”

“You that hard up for dates?” She signs in return, catching a muscle twitch of annoyance, and she smirks behind her mask. Five seconds in and she’s getting under his skin. 

“Names Andrew Jones, you probably heard of me.” 

“Can’t say that I have.” 

“Served in special ops in the last war, silver shoguns, ring any bells?” 

“Can’t say that it does.” 

“Hmm,” he grumbles, “don’t like to get along, do you?” 

“Can’t say that I do.” 

He scowls at her as he shifts his weight off her door and moves to walk in front of her vehicle, looking it over. His foot raises up, dirty boot now on the grill of her car and she wishes nothing more than to just drive forward and run his dumbass over. She doesn’t have fucking time for this; her client is waiting. She doesn’t even want to be in his dumbass little town; she already fucked the only good thing here and found nothing but disappointment. 

“That a nomad vehicle? I might have figured. Scav mask, nomad car; what that make you?” 

“You got a problem?”

“I’ll tell you what my problem is, nothing boils my blood like a fuckin’ stray. Where your clan pitch camp?” 

“No camp, no clan, just little ole me, aren’t you lucky?” 

 “Don’t buy it, nomads always stick with their pack.” 

“Got no pack, they don’t suit me much.”

“Makes you an outcast among outcasts.” He sneers at her, looking down his nose at her, like he’s something special and she’s gum stuck on his shoe. 

“Let me guess, you’re the type of guy who believes every line of shit the corps feed you, that nomads are the world’s greatest evil.” 

“No, I’m a man who respects order, corps brought us that order-”

“The corps pay you and have you on a leash like a dog, you know that?” 

“And you don’t wanna see me bare my fangs.” 

“Try and I’ll put you down,” V’s fingers move before she can give another though, no interest in making peace with this asshole. 

“You threatening me, girl?” 

“No more than you are me, stay out of my way and I’ll get out of yours.” 

“Big talk coming from a misfit.”

She lets out a short laugh, the sound layered with her modulator, making it louder and doubled.  

“Look, I’m not scared of some shithole town’s sheriff who thinks a badge is a crown,” she signs, hands moving so quick and hurried that the sound of skin hitting skin rings out, “I want to leave your town, you want me gone, move your ass and I’ll make us both happy.” 

“Get going,” he moves out from in front of her car, “I got no mind to see you drifting around these parts.” 

“What part of this conversation made you think I want to?” She finishes signing before slamming her car door shut. 

“What was that drifter?” His voice fades away as she guns it out of the repair shop, rolling her eyes behind her mask. 

Though, maybe breaking into the communications tower is technically drifting, but she needs to radio her client. Sinclaire will need to know she’s coming into the city, so they can meet up, exchange eddies for cargo, and she can figure life out from there. She takes a road that goes north and cuts through the desert, her Rattler practically born for off roading as she takes the heavy bumps of the sand dunes and drives through cacti, pulling up to graffiti covered bumpers just outside the fenced in tower. 

It's an amalgamation of latticed rusted metal with satellites on top, graffiti decorating the buildings and chunks of the tower itself. It clearly hasn’t been used or maintained in years, but it should still boost her signal. V climbs out of her vehicle, trying to open the door to the fencing. It doesn’t budge at all and she pouts, then kicks it as hard as she can. Her steel toed boot works as well as a key, making it swing open. 

It’s a quick little journey, two little flights of stairs she jogs up with ease. Then it’s a ladder, the peeling yellow paint sticking to her palms. And then she’s as high as she can reach, transmitter box in view. But with the view around her, wind whipping through, she takes a moment to peel off her mask and breathe. Sun beating down and warming her face, the breeze cools her skin under it’s rays, wicking away sweat that sticks to her brow. 

A deep inhale of air before she forces herself to move again, the rusted front of the transmitter box breaks at the hinges when she opens it, she pays no mind and throws it aside then jacks in her walkie-talkie radio. V leans against the tower railing, radio in hand, but not ready to let go of the quiet. 

The smell of rust and paint surrounds her as she takes everything in. She’ll miss this, she realizes, the open road and the Badlands have always been her home. But it’s not safe, not really. The Herd has shown no signs of letting this go. For four years, she’s dodged her sister and Ava; the two tasked with being her trackers, repeated close calls over all this time. They’ve interrogated and demanded answers from the folks in these sleepy little towns she breezes through. The mask has helped, but every day the feeling of them nipping at her heels gets worse. Her stomach churns at the lengths they’ve gone to. V’s father wasted no time in turning her sister against her, turning Eira into a weapon to do his bidding, to put down the defected child who never should have made it past nine. 

He’ll kill her for not falling in that same line, for refusing to be his soldier. Forced to choose between death or conformity, practically one in the same, she tries to seek a third option.

Night City has its own rules, laws, restrictions; a city completely controlled by corps. It’s disgusting in its own right. But The Herd isn’t allowed in the city, border control of Night City has strict orders to keep all known or identifiable members of the Raffen Shiv clan out. Corps hate Nomads, as a general rule, but they really hate The Herd. A Nomad family with no respect for anyone else’s laws, a strong anti-consumerism, anti-cyberware, and anti-corp attitude; The Herd might as well send a personal fuck you to Night City.  Its not perfect, not even good,  a crime infested corp run cesspool, but it’s the safest option. More security, more boundaries, more faces so V can blend in.  Even if Eira and Ava make it into Night City, which she’s not naïve enough to believe impossible, they’ll have six million folks to work their way through. Nomads stay in pack because groups provide safety; a sea of city faces is just an extension of that. 

But that safety comes at a cost. It means no more open spaces, no more serenity, no more campfires with burnt marshmallows, or driving down dirt roads as fast as she can with her windows down, and screaming out in excitement as she takes on every bump and turn with reckless abandon. 

There’s no perfect choice, every decision carries a sacrifice, but if the cost of staying in the Badlands could mean her life, her freedom, her identity… the city is the better option… she thinks…

A pessimistic or perhaps realistic part of her can’t help but feel like he’ll get his way, her father will have her head on a pike, will slaughter his own daughter like cattle. And his power over The Herd will only grow. After all, if he’d go this far to put down his own child for an act of betrayal, how could anyone else ever think to be spared his wrath. The already loyal army of followers will be further forced into submission by fear. 

Maybe this is all a waste of time, she wonders, often does. Maybe it’s just dragging out the inevitable. Hell, a part of her wonders if she’d be better off begging for mercy, if he’d offer it just to maintain control. Would she be safer if she just gave in? Is she really the kind of person who needs to be half of a whole to function, to feel safe?

But, is it wrong to want something more? To be able to look back at her life, no matter how long or short it may be, and know she lived, that she gave it all she had. That she stayed true to herself, whoever that is. To prove that she doesn’t need them, that she isn’t a burden depending on others to carry her weight. She can make something of herself in Night City, can live on her own terms, even if only until the inevitable comes knocking at her door. It will be a bit of breathing room, a chance to just be, instead of constantly looking over her shoulder.

Family was meant to be her security, her safety, but were they ever really? V shakes her head, if she goes down every thought pattern, every reason, every doubt, every feeling; she’ll be here forever. 

She pulls her mask back down and radios her client after another moment of soaking in the breeze, it's odd they didn’t go through a fixer, but frankly she doesn’t care. A middleman who takes part of the cut isn’t ideal for her either. She’s looking for the past possible new start and the more eddies in her pocket, the better that’ll be. 

“V?” Sinclaire speaks her alias once she gets through. 

“Speaking,” she signs, as always thankful her mask spares her voice in moments like this. 

“Where the hell are you?” 

“Hit a snag, but I’m on my way into the city now.”

“That’s what I like to hear, once you’re through the border radio me and we’ll talk meet up.” 

“The docs you sent,” she signs, thinking to the falsified passport docs he had sent out her way, “they should get me through border check.” 

“Absolutely, border control barely checks ID on customs, but that little pamphlet will breeze you through.” 

“Okay, just checking.” 

“Don’t worry V, this is a piece of cake. You’re gonna love Night City, I’m telling you.” 

“Yeah? That so?” 

“Mmhmm, once we finish the trade off, I’ll show you around. There’s a place in Wellsprings with synth steak to die for, I’ll treat you.” 

“Sounds like a plan, I’m heading out now.” She agrees easily, it’ll be better to have more connections in the city, people she gets along with well enough and know the place better than her. 

“See ya soon.” 

Her client doesn’t know her exact clan, just knows she needs papers to get into the city. There’s more than one group of Raffen Shiv that aren’t allowed in city limits; hell she’s pretty sure Wraith’s aren’t.  Though, corps make special deals to let them in when they need work done. As shitty as they are, The Herd has yet to whore themselves out to that degree, one thing she can still respect about her father. She fiddles with the leather cuff bracelet around her wrist, that hides the small crown shaped brand that he placed on her skin as a child, his way of marking his blood family. She’s considered taking a knife to it, but some part of her isn’t ready to.  

V’s steps are hurried as she leaves the comms tower, heavy boots stomping over metal as she makes the quick journey back to her Rattler, the red beast of a car waiting where she left it. She climbs into the vehicle and twists the vehicle around. She follows the dirt road back out to the highway, headed out to the city. 

She races back through the little town, picking up as much speed as she can, wind whipping through the open windows. Yucca is a blink and its gone, V having cruises right through the nothing town and continuing down the highway. Empty stretches of desert decorated with cacti as she races down the expanse of roadway. 

Then the signs warn her of border crossing, nearing the city, her heart rate picking up as she grows closer to changing her life. A border checkpoint, enclosures and offices with an overpass above the divided lanes of the highway. Each lane leads to a border control officer with holograms labeling what each lane is for based on why someone is coming into the city; whether or not they have cargo to check. She slows down, so she can pull off her mask, the less suspicious she looks the better. Border guards aren’t going to stand for being questioned by The Herd, so its minimal risk. 

She switches over to the lane for customs check, pulling up to the raised blockade, beyond it another car coming through is scanned. An armed border guard not far away and she waits as the vehicle is giving the go ahead to leave; blockade coming down and guard ushering her to drive forward. V drives that little bit forward; cement yellow blockades raise before and behind her vehicle. Locking her into place makes her uncomfortable, like she can’t escape. 

“Stay in the security check area,” a guard tells her over the intercom, like she would have tried to drive through the blockade without his warning. A beat i silence, a minute or two passes as the scanners run along her car. 

“Would the owner of the vehicle please report for further questioning.”

V grabs the falsified passport, manifest marked LOA, and the bribe chip for good measure. She keeps her head down as she gets out of the vehicle, makes her body language small as she walks into the office building. Maintaining a non-threatening demeanor in order to ease any friction that may come her way. The door automatically opens, a waiting room of people and a desk behind bulletproof glass where a worker stands. A map of the New United States across one of the walls. 

“If  you’re armed, leave your weapon here.” The worker behind the desk calls out and V unholsters her revolver, allowing him to check it and put it in a drawer, “report to room two.”

She nods, feeling naked without a weapon on her hip, but she knows this is the way of things. V turns the corner, finding the door with a two marked next to it. She opens the door and a lump forms in her throat. It's a small cramped little excuse of a room, a guard already at the rinky dink desk and a chair in front of it. She takes small timid steps to the chair, discolored with either dried blood or rust, she can’t be certain. The man is dressed in a neon vest; some sort of either goggles or optic implants over his eyes that scan her over as she sits down. He wastes not a second in lighting a cigarette and her nose wrinkles as smoke billows to fill the small room. She can already feel the stench of it clinging to her clothes and wishes she could snatch it from his hand. 

“Papers?” he asks. 

She hands over the manifest, her falsified passport, and the credit chip without a word. Metallic implant augmented fingers put the cred chip aside to look over the little blue document, then he places the paper over the cred chip, hiding it from prying eyes that may peek into the office. Meanwhile, V tries to maintain her most innocent of expression, puppy dog eyes primed if any issue arrives. Small and adorable has few benefits in this world; but she plans to take advantage where she can. Being underestimated, assumed to be weak or docile, as much as it hurts does have perks. 

“What are you transporting?” 

“It’s all in there,” she signs in response, because frankly she has no idea what she’s transporting. Some corp crap. 

“Hmmm, tell me, who do you ride with?” 

“Bakkers,” she lies through her teeth, her car was bought off one, so it seems like an easy enough excuse. 

“They stop installing personal links?” He asks, puffing out a plume of smoke, his gaze on her linkless palm. 

“Religious reasons, most of the clan has them, but my mom raised us to stay ‘ganic, god given, ya know?”  She signs, a practiced excuse for when she’s asked about her lack of implants. Same as the excuse laid out in the passport. 

“Is that so…” he takes a deep drag off his cigarette and V bites her lip not to say anything she’s hit with another face full of smoke, “you know, times like this I’m so glad not to be on the other side of that table.” 

“Feelings mutual,” she signs before she can even consider stopping, aggravated by this man’s entire existence at this point. She gave him all the documents, this should be done with by now. 

“Go on now.” 

She jumps at the chance to be excused, taking in a deep fresher breath of air when she’s released from the smoke box of an interrogation room. V runs a hand through her hair as she turns the corner. There’s another armored guard standing beside the desk now, his eyes doing a lazy look down of V’s frame.

“Don’t forget to collect your personal items.” The worker behind the desk tells her and she stops there, giving him a raised eyebrow before he goes to collect her gun, “be careful with that toy and welcome to Night City.”

As much as she’d like to gripe about the toy comment; as if she’s a child, she can’t help but find herself smiling at the greeting. She’s finally here, finally getting into the city. A life on her terms; a little breathing room between her and the clan. V holsters her gun, grin playing on her lips.

“Those little shits all imagine Night City to be some sort of paradise,” the armored guard comments about her, but not to her, looking over her to the worker behind the desk.

“What are you gonna do they’re all young, naïve, which is just another word for ignorant.” The worker replies and V’s grin has died, maybe that’s the case for others, but Night City is exactly what she needs. Her situation isn’t the same. She doubts those young ignorant kids they’re talking about were running from their own death.

She shakes her head, not worth the effort it’d take to respond, V leaves the building. Her Rattler a short distance away, she’s nearly bouncing as she rushes towards it, climbing into the driver’s seat. Even the overpass above her has words welcoming her to the city, she’s sure she won’t find paradise, but there...she’ll make this life her own.

There’s barely a blip of distance between her and the border check when she sees them. Black corporate vans coming towards her, her heart jolts into her throat and sweat edges along her skin. 

“Fuck!” V curses out loud, border fucker tipped off the corp.

“Stop the vehicle! You are transporting corporate property!” A voice rings out from the vans and V takes a sharp turn off the road, her baby is meant for off roading after all. 

“I repeat, stop the vehicle!” The corporate voice yells out again. 

“Stop the vehicle,” she murmurs in a whiny voice to herself, mocking the corpo, “give us back our stuff, stop committing crimes, wah, wah, wah.” 

 She rolls her eyes, amused by her own bullshit as she punches in the keypad of her Rattler, starting up the automated turret attached to the roof. It’s not the most high tech system, but it has a lock on function and should get the job done.  The sounds of bullets pinging off metal creates a cacophony around her as she careens through an abandoned rural area, taking sharp turns to try to shake them. V takes out her hearing aids to stop her forming headache and focus on what she’s doing. The rumble of her turret shakes the car as it fires, letting her know its still working fine. Glass break out of the back of her car, a bullet piercing through, her back sprayed with the shards. She’ll be digging a bullet out of her dashboard later, she’s sure. 

A bright flash of orange, flames enveloping a van as her turret hits a gas tank the right way. One down, two to go. She keeps the pedal to the floor, speed topping out as she races away from the approaching vans. Another sharp turn and she watches as a van crashes into a wall, one last stubborn fucker. 

There’s a slight tense to the vibration of her turret overhead, bullets hitting the top of it, aiming to disarm it, as she goes through another turn. A shot bursts through her side mirror, assholes, do they have any idea how much it’s going to cost her to repair this heap. More than it’s probably worth.  

The vibration that shakes her car settles down over her head, turret no longer firing, but the van is still chasing her. It fucking jammed, her turret fucking jammed again, of course it did. V hauls off and punches the roof of her Rattler, right beneath where the turret is, used to this issue at this point. As always, the hard punch manages to spur it back on and it fires up again, blasting at the last van at full speed. 

A bullet hits the corpo van’s front tire, knocking it off path; final one down. 

“Suck my dick, Arasaka!” She screams out for no one else to hear.

She’s grinning as she finds a collection of abandoned trailers and garages, pulling into one, she’ll need to call her client, figure out a meeting place. They may want her to lay low for a bit until Arasaka calms their tits about this. But she’s in Night City, finally, what could go wrong from here. Cut out a nice living for herself, solo work or maybe something else, who knows. Get herself a place and do whatever the fuck she wants from there. She slides on her mask, puts her hearing aids back in, and rings her client. 

“Sinclaire?” 

“V, you make it over the border yet?” 

“Yep, out just south of Pacifica according to the GPS, little run in with the corps but I shook them. When and where you wanna meet?” 

“Little China, you know where the old Club Atlantis is?” 

“Not remotely, but ping me the coordinates and I’ll find it.” 

“Sending it to you now, think you can get there by three am?” 

“Yeah, no problem, prefer to do this under cover of darkness?” 

“Much prefer, see you soon, V.” 

V hangs up the call and punches in the coordinates he sent, GPS map firing up to tell her where to go. She pulls out of the abandoned garage and gets herself back out on the road, driving further into the city. 

She doesn’t like driving in the city. V determines about a minute into being into the actual bulk of the city. There’s neon signs and adverts everywhere she looks; most displaying someones ass or tits.  She wouldn’t consider herself a prude, far from it given just how many people she’s spread her own legs for, but she does appreciate some decorum… These are sleazy, dirty… 

And there’s traffic. Even at the late hour, people are on the roads, and they’re slow. So, fucking slow. Move, your asses. A motorcycle might be a good investment, she’d be able to just ride between traffic or weave through the other cars.

She manages to reach the spot before three am, though she wants to scream by the time she arrives. The building blends in easily, just another large shuttered up structure with graffiti covering its outside; symbols for the Tyger Claws, because correct spelling is a bad look for a gang, apparently. 

V lets out a huff of air as she gets out of her car to wait;  examining the little bloody scratches on her shoulders and arms where the glass hit her. Nothing serious, a splash of rubbing alcohol to disinfect and she’ll be fine. But there is a slight sting to the injuries that make moving her arms and shoulders uncomfortable. Corpo fucks. V leans against her car, taking in her new city. 

And she shouldn’t be amazed, she knows that. The traffic drove her nuts and she’s been in landfills that smelled nicer. But despite it all, she finds herself impressed at the buildings that stretch on into the heavens. The bright lights and neon against a dark sky is gorgeous; a high vantage point and she’s sure it’d look like something out of a movie. She finds herself in awe as hope nestles its way into her chest. 

Not perfect, nothing ever is, but she can work with it. She can build something here. 

A sharp honk gets her attention, disrupting her moment of reverie. The street and road have been abandoned mostly; only her and the limousine coming to a stop next to her. She gives a slight wave to the driver, then forms a V with her fingers, as if they needed any more indication of who she is. 

The driver is not her client, instead a big bulk of a man with gorilla arms implants, black metal for fingers, he gets out of the driver’s seat and a similarly sized man steps out of the back seat. Her client’s got muscle around him it seems, maybe he just wants to make sure she doesn’t get squirrely and try to pull something. 

Both guards out, they open the backseat door close to the street and her client finally emerges. He’s not a particularly tall man, though as with most adults, he is taller than her. Sandy slicked back hair and unnaturally bright green eyes; likely optics. 

“V, darling, nice to see you in the flesh, you got the goods?” 

“Right here,” she signs before moving behind her car, opening the trunk so he can see the Arasaka cargo crate.

“Fantastic, load it up, boys.” 

“Woah, woah,” V signs and sits on the crate before the two bodyguards can grab it, “eddies first, then you take the cargo.” 

“Oh, V, honey…” His voice drips with condescension and a chill reverberates down her spine, “you did good work, only a shame you’re so naive.” 

“The fuck do-” 

Pain cracks through her skull, knocking V off the cargo crate and onto the ground. Another sharp thwack of pain across her head and back; something blunt striking her before she can get up. She groans out as she rolls over onto her back, looking up at the bodyguard who’s holding a baseball bat, what looks like blood staining it. Her head and back hurt; her head spinning and she’s unable to get her bearings.

“Load the cargo into the car.” 

“What do you want us to do with her?” One of the guards asks Sinclaire and he looks down at her, like a cockroach. 

“Eh, no one will come looking for her. Might as well throw her away with the trash,” he kicks her side, sneering when she grunts in pain, “give her another hit for good measure.” 

“Got it,” the guard nods and starts to raise the baseball again, high above his head for a hard swing and she instinctively twists to give him the back of her head again. 

“We’ll scrap the car, ge-” 

And then the bat comes down on her, a rush of pain before consciousness slips from her grasp. 

Time loses all meaning when the world is blacked out, but eventually the light filters back in and her senses return. She can feel her hearing aids still in and its reaffirmed by the sounds she hears, the faint murmur of people. The smell around her is awful, disgusting, and she can feel stuff around her. Plastic bags scratching at her skin, something wet touching her arm. Her mask shifted and she forces herself to move, she pulls it back in place, blinking. 

Garbage bags, some intact and others shredded. He actually had her thrown into the trash, that son of a bitch. V pushes the trash bags off of her, city lights starting to glimmer through, neon against a black sky. She finds a metal edge of the dumpster and pulls herself up, body still aching in protest as she emerges from her would be grave. Cold air hits her bare arms, the city far colder in the early months than the Badlands. She’s in an alleyway dumpster and she hears gasps of shocks, turning to see civilians shocked to see someone climbing out of the trash. She’s be ashamed if she weren’t so furious.

V punches the side of the dumper, feeling it reverberate with the force, this was supposed to be her shot at a new life and now she’s in a god damn dumpster. 

She’s going to kill Sinclaire, she’s going to fucking kill him, son of a bitchfucked her over and he’s going to pay with blood. But how the hell does she even reach him? He never gave her details of where he spends his time or let alone where he lives. Hell, she doesn’t even know where she is. She needs her car back and her luggage from it, she doesn’t even have a change of fucking clothes as it stands right now. 

“What time is it? Where am I?” she signs at the civilians, still straddling the edge of the dumpster, maybe they can be some help. 

“Uhhh, like 10pm? And Heywood…?”

So, he dragged her away quite a bit, so...maybe he frequents the area. Still doesn’t tell her much, she needs to find him. And she needs to find her car, but how the fuck does she accomplish that?

“Don’t suppose you have any idea where I could find Luke Sinclaire, do you?” 

“Uh, no,” the stranger kind of raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the whole situation, “but uh, you could always talk to Padre. He’s the local fixer.” 

Of course, she’d have to get a fixer involved, not using one is probably what got her in this mess in the first place. Sinclaire knew she had no ties to her Nomad family, new to the city, and no fixer involved. He basically had license to do whatever he wanted without fearing someone would come for him or come looking for her. V touches the back of her head, fingers coming back red, dried blood matting her hair. He meant for her to die, she’s sure, but the blunt trauma wasn’t enough to do her in. 

“Where’s Padre?” she signs, she doesn’t have money to pay a fixer but maybe they can work something out. She doesn’t want to lone wolf it and end up in a dumpster again. 

“He has his own parish, but he’s usually at the El Coyote Cojo right about now, might be able to catch him if you hurry.” 

“El Coyote Cojo, which would be…where?” 

“Bar a little north of here, you really aren’t from around here, are you?” 

“Thanks for your help and stunning observational skills; I’m off.” 

She pulls her hood back up over her head, hiding her bloody matted hair as she leaves the alley way and goes vaguely north. New chapter of her life, she’s injured, alone, broke, and smells like garbage. 

Honestly, sounds about right for her luck. But, she’s far from given up. She navigates the Night City streets, stopping to ask a stranger where the bar is again before she finally finds it. She keeps expecting to get weird looks, like the ones that were usually sent her way in the small towns she’d visit on the road. But even with her mask, no one pays her much mind. And why would they?

V passes at least four more outrageous looking strangers along her way to the bar. People’s who’s entire body is made of gold cyberware, a woman with skin that looks like plastic, a cowboy with cybernetic arms and legs, and a girl with what looks like cat ear implants on top of her head. Things that make her stop and give a second glance, but no one here even minds. Night City has its own weirdness limit and her mask doesn’t even come close to hitting it. There's an anonymity she’s never known before and its kind of nice. Even bloody, mask on, trash covered; she’s just one face in a sea of millions. 

El Coyote Cujo is a lowlit bar with traditional Mexican decorations across it and as expected in the evening, it has a fair number of patrons bustling around. People shooting pool, downing tequila, and chatting amongst themselves. And for the first time, she finds eyes landing on her. Not necessarily weirded out by her masked appearance, but more so wary of a stranger. She pays them no mind, employees here should know where Padre frequents or if he’s still here. There’s two she’s able to find right away; the bartender and a busboy. She starts with the bartender, walking herself over to a stool, he’s an older man with dark hair and a golden arm. He walks over to her once she’s sat, a smile bringing out the crows feet at the corners of his eyes. 

“A new face, what can I get for you?” 

“I’m actually trying to find someone,” she signs, “someone told me the local fixer, Padre, is a regular here.”

“Ah, he’s probably at his usual table upstairs, not sure he’s interested in taking on any new clients though.” 

“I’ll see if we can figure something out.” She steps away from the bar and heads upstairs, its mostly vacant, making her task just a little bit easier. 

Her gaze is drawn to an older man with sparsely any hair and age spots along his skin, a gold cross around his neck. A few men in tacky gold jewelry around him.

“Padre?” The AI modulator voice calls out and she sees the older man’s eyes land on her. His guards around him seem to tense, prepared for if she sends up being a threat. 

“I’m not sure, I know you,” Padre comments, looking over her disheveled appearance. Being beaten and thrown in a dumpster doesn’t do much for your looks. 

“You don’t, but I’m looking for a fixer, need help if you’re interested in hearing me out.”

“Come, sit.” 

“Thank you, sir,” she signs before sliding into the booth seat across the table from him. 

“How can I assist you, child?” 

“So, a guy named Luke Sinclaire contracted me to smuggle corp cargo into the city, I go to meet up with him and he tricks me. Stole the cargo, sent my car to be scrapped, and had his gangoons drop me.  I need help finding him so I can get the cargo, my car, and my dignity back. Maybe kill him too, depending on how I feel, but we’ll see.” 

“You didn’t use a fixer, I take it?” He raises an eyebrow with the energy of a dad chiding a child for making a stupid mistake. 

“No, I was desperate and it bit me in the ass, so I’m doing what I should have done in the first place.” 

“And I’m to assume, you have no money with which to do this either?” He says, having read her like a book. 

“I’m sorry to be asking favors the first time we meet and I don’t expect you to do this for nothing, of course, but I was wondering if we could work out an arrangement instead.”

“And what sort of arrangement would that be?” 

“I’ll do a merc job for you, your choosing, I’ll take no cut of the profit; a completely free job in exchange for you helping me with this.”

“And how can I trust you to do this job well, I do not know you or your work.” 

“Well, I’d do the job for you first, so if its crap you could not help me. I fully expect to get back what I put in, if I do quality work, you do it in return, I’m desperate here.”

“Come with me, Marcus, get the car,” he tells one of the bulky men who walks off. 

Padre stands and follows behind Marcus, V follows suit as they leave down the stairs and out of the bar towards a dark little alleyway. Marcus pulls up a car and parks it for them. Once parked Marcus gets out and comes back to one of the backseat doors, Padre gets into the back on his own, Marcus opens the door for her. He silently beckons her in and she does what she’s asked, sliding onto the leather seat. Marcus shuts her door before going back around to the driver’s seat, 

“Embers, pull up to the back where the ramp is,” Padre instructs Marcus of where to go. 

And then the car pulls out onto the road. V fiddles with a curl of hair, fidgety and unsure of what to do, why they’re driving out away from the bar. Padre has a far away look in his eye. 

“You’re new to Night City, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah…” 

“And what is your name, I’m afraid I didn’t catch it earlier.” 

“V.” 

“V, I’ve lived in Heywood all my life, it’s roots are strong and watered by blood. Family is what pulls us through, no one is purely independent. The city is ecosystem, each individual playing a vital role that impacts those around them. The relationship between fixers and our mercenaries is an important one, not only is it mutual beneficial, but we keep each other safe. A lesson you’ve had to learn the hard way.” 

“Can’t really argue with that…” 

“People who-“ 

Padre pauses in his words looking out of the window and through it, V can see a car coming up alongside them. The car begins honking furiously at them. Nerves alight and chills slinking up her spine; she has a bad feeling about this. It has to be someone with a bone to pick with Padre. 

“Shit!” Marcus curses, the first word she’s heard him say. 

“Stop the car,” Padre says, with a calming hand on Marcus’s shoulder. 

“What’s this?” V signs, worrying speeding up her hands. 

“Business, you carrying?” 

“Yeah….” V checks her waistband and her revolver is gone because why did she think Sinclaire wouldn’t take her gun, “No.” 

Padre blinks, surprised she’s sure, because who the fuck would be unarmed in Night City. Marcus pulls to a stop, the car once beside them pulls around to park in front of them and a man comes out. He’s dressed in what appear to be green fatigues with a bullet proof vest. As he comes close to V’s window, she sees his gold implants catching the neon lights. 

“Sebastian Ibarra,” the man says in a low voice, as V’s window is rolled down by Marcus, “looks like it’s my lucky day.”

The stranger leans into the window, his left hand is carrying a gun and he casually puts it into the window. Both arms are metal in nature, but they look far from top shelf, at least from her glance. 

“What do you want?” Padre asks him. 

“To settle our biz, once and for all. Got an offer for you, Paddy, so listen up. Get the fuck out of Vista, pull your boys off the street! I’ll give you the Glenn, done deal. No more restless nights, see how generous I can be?” 

A beat of silence and V gives a glance at Padre, he seems far from amused with the man’s bullshit. 

“Well, Paddy?!” 

V lurches at his impatient yell, she doesn’t need this wannabe soldier turned gangbanger fucking up her deal. Her right hand grabs the back of his neck, below the base of his skull and her left grabs the gun. She slams his head against the car roof, his forehead gushing blood at the impact, the shock and pain makes his grip loosen and allows her to steal his pistol before letting him go. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses as he stumbles back, seeing stars and touching at his forehead. She aimed for the soft flesh just before his golden mohawked implant began, blood now steadily streaming from the wound, “you’ll fucking pay for that.” 

She points his own pistol at him, cocking the gun, asking the silent question of if he intends to be shot today. 

“It seems our conversation has come to a close,” Padre speaks calmly, but when she turns she can see the hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Careful Padre, never know who’s got a barrel at your six,” he threatens with blood coating his face like paint, “you neither shitbucket!” 

“Now, I’m armed,” V signs to Padre, as she watches the man climb back into his car, defeated for the moemnt. 

“Marcus, please.” 

The driver pulls out and away, getting them back on the road, as if the exchange had never happened. There’s a moment or two of silence, as V tucks her new gun into her waistband. If Padre takes her up on her offer, she may need it, plus you can generally never have enough firepower. 

“Many people come through the city,” Padre speaks after a beat of silence, “little shits who’s spines go soft the moment they’re looking down the barrel of a gun. And sometimes you get the odd soul, one who can truly hold their own.” 

“Who was that?” She asks, unable to help but smirk behind her mask at the compliment. That she’s one of the odd souls, different from those little shits, that she can hold her own.  V is far from incompetent, even if some shitbird got the jump on her. 

“No one important, he’ll be gone in a week’s time. Another will take his place.”

“The ecosystem will take him out?” 

“People who don’t know their place, soon find themselves without one. He’ll pay for what he’s done. You… paid for your misdeeds, for your misstep, but you’re finding your place now and within it you may thrive.” 

“You got my place in the ecosystem all figured out?” 

“Here,” he hands her a screamsheet, a magazine with an animated ad for a car, high-end The Legend of Aerondight, “only four in Night City.” 

“That so?” It looks slick, she guesses, though certainly not her aesthetic. Its that weird rich person sort of design where it’s oddly shaped and proportioned, perhaps to be aerodynamic. All sleek silver and black, no character to it. She’d take her Rattler over it any day. 

“First belongs to the Rayfield regional direction, second belongs to mayor Rhyne, third to a rental service. And my client aims to be the fourth.” 

“Klep the car and you’ll help me?” 

“Yes, I have a contact who works inside the parking structure near Embers, a club the current owner likes to frequent. He’s there tonight as well. My contact will cut the security camera feed and open the security gate for you.” 

“Current owner, anyone I need to worry about?” 

“An Arasaka corpo,” Padre informs her, because apparently, she hasn’t fucked with Arasaka enough in the past day or so. 

“So, just hotwire it or?” It wouldn’t be the first time she’s hotwired a car, but fancy ones like this usually have a more complicated security system. Usually takes more than a knife and luck, which is her usual method. 

“Not quite,” Padre pulls a little gadget, a silver and black device that he hands to her, “this should work like a key for the car, matches the ones used by Rayfield tech. Should open the lock and bypass identity authorization.” 

“That sounds convenient…”  Too fucking convenient, she resists adding. 

“Kabuki has some excellent tech workers, but I won’t lie, it is a risk. I assume one you’re willing to take?” 

“Got it, I’ll get the car.” 

“Marcus, pull up here,” Padre tells the driver and they come to a stop, “you can jump down below, and before you go, take this V.” 

He hands her a card, marked with his name and phone number, golden in color with a sword surrounded by roses.  She rubs her thumb over the embossment, glad for her first contact within the city. Connections help. 

“Your number?” She points out the obvious, not sure what else to say. 

“Bring the car back to El Coyote Cujo and call me when you arrive, if all goes well, I’ll have your intel by then. And, I may just call on you for work down the line.” 

“Understood, I’m off then.” 

“Go with God, V.”  

The guardrail drags along the side of the highway but there’s a breakage where it allows her enough space to easily jump over. Peering over it leads to an alley way, a closed dumpster just below. She hops over, dropping down onto the dumpster, she intends on last night being her last trash nap, so she’s more than a little thankful for it being closed. She hears a civilian let out a little exclamation but pays no mind as she jumps down onto the pavement. A quick walk down a graffitied alleway leads her to yellow road signs cutting across an open structure. Glowing vending machines beckon her to spend ennies she doesn’t have on energy drinks and burritos, a turn past them brings her to an elevator. 

Slick glinting silver encompasses her as she steps into the alleyway; impressively clean compared to the absolute grime of the city.  Likely to impress any corpos who come this way to get their cars. A quick tap of a button and the doors shut, elevator rattling as it descends down to the garage. 

A beat of silence and the elevator opens up to a hallway; black, gunmetal gray, and teal accents. The wall declares which sector she’s in and an arrow on the far wall tells her where to turn, as if there were anywhere else to go. The turn around the corner puts her directly in front of two large black double doors; PARKING over them in clear bold lettering. 

They slide open when she gets close and open up to the large parking garage, lights coming on as she sees all the slick fancy corpo cars. Sleek blacks and eye popping reds, none with any taste for design if you ask her. But nomads and corpos have...different aesthetics. 

“Eh, something I can help you with?” A male voice rings out, bringing her attention to the little station next to the blocked off exit for cars. The contact, she presumes. She comes over to his open window, the man dressed in uniform. 

“Padre sent me…” she signs, keeping things vague just in case this person has no idea why she’s here. 

“Gotcha,” he hits a button, “cameras are blind, you got twenty minutes.” 

She nods and goes looking through the cars, it’s the glow of neon that brings her to it. A parking spot marked off in the vivid blue glowing lights, they frame the Rayfield, and spell VIP on the wall behind it. 

Time to test the tech, she holds the device next to the door and presses its button, a blue light flashing. And then the Rayfield’s door opens, sliding back and up in one fluid motion, exposing the deep burgundy leather seats. Shit may actually be going right for once. 

She climbs into the driver’s seat, feeling wholly out of place in the plush designed car. The seat automatically adjusts to accommodate her, no doubt shorter than the owner, and the blacked-out windshield and window turn to crystalline clear glass. All that’s left is bringing the baby back to the bar and then she can get her intel on Sinclaire. 

A red caution symbol flashes in the windshield and her body tenses; a bad feeling creeping in. No, her luck can’t be running out already. 

Then the door opens and there’s a gun in her face. 

“Get the fuck out!” A Mexican accented voice yells out. 

If there is a god, he personally hates her, there is no other explanation, and she will fist fight him for his shenanigans. She looks up at the man standing before her, barrel at her forehead. He’s leaning down against the car, not unlike how the sheriff did to intimidate her back in Yucca. However, unlike the sheriff, this guy has the build to pull it off. He’s easily over a foot taller than her and wider than most doorway, all pure muscle with dark hair in a top knot, gold cybernetics adoring his face. She puts her hands up in mock surrender for a moment. 

“Nothing personal, jaina, just biz.” 

V goes to gun it, to stomp her foot down on the gas, but before she can the man has the back of her hoodie and is unceremoniously ripping her out of the vehicle. 

“You fuckin’ deaf, chica, fuck out of the car, now!” He’s able to manhandle and pack her around like it’s nothing, like carrying a housecat. 

She grabs the hand on her hood and digs her fingernails in, swinging her foot out to kick him while her other hand goes for her gun. 

Then there’s a steady rev of engines, tires squealing and growing ever closer. Confusion coloring her assailant’s face and he drops her, looking around. 

“The fuck…” 

He starts to say and then there’s two police cars rushing into the parking lot, skidding to stops in front of them. And its fucking overkill, if she rang 911 because she was shot, they’d maybe send an officer out in three weeks. One fucking corpo has someone break into his car and it’s the end of the universe, need a full brigade. 

The headlights of the cruises are blindingly bright and she struggles to adjust; putting her hands up as police officers come out with guns at the ready. It’s a car for fucks sake. 

“Don’t move!” 

Her attacker carefully slides his gun across the cement, to show he’s not a threat and maybe she’d consider doing the same if she cared; but she doesn’t. 

“You’re under arrest!” 

“Stay where you are!” 

The police continue barking orders, as if the two hadn’t piece together what was happening or what was being asked of them. They’re not stupid. 

“Hands where I can see them, nice and slow!” 

He can already see them, why must they go through the rigamarole. She doesn’t have time for this shit. 

“On the ground motherfuckers, right now!” 

V is able to watch for a second, as a female cop cuffs and pushes the big guy onto the ground. Then in the next second she’s down there too, but they don’t cuff her like they do him. The officer only holds her hands down to the pavement, maybe they think because she’s smaller they don’t need the cuffs, at least not yet. 

“Jackie Welles, my old pal from the hood,” a voice rings out, “See you haven’t grown an ounce wiser.” 

“Hey,” big guy, apparently Jackie, responds and she shifts her head against the pavement to see him being held down in addition to the cuffs, “argh, Detective Stints, been a while, huh?”

“Inspector Stints,” the man responds now stepping out where he can be seen in front of the bright lights, he picks up the gun Jackie put down. 

“Same shit,” Jackie says with a laugh. 

“But you, you’re new,” Stints comments as he walks over and crouches down in front of her, looking over her face.

He waits, anticipating her to say something, but she talks with her hands and they’re currently pinned behind her back. And sure she possesses the technical ability to speak, her vocal chords do function. But she doesn’t, unless she’s alone or highly emotional. She used to talk to her mom, sister, and Ava…but those days are gone. 

“Spit it out? Cat got your tongue?” Stints taunts and she still remains silent. 

“Think her voicebox might be broken, Stints,” Jackie comments, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Pfft, probably just another piece of Heywood trash, another termite who’ll live and die here. Just like you Welles.” 

“Fuck off, just tell us what you got planned,” Jackie grumbles. 

“Gonna be booked, gonna do a stint, heh, get it?” He says with a grin. 

“C’mon Stints, cut us a break, huh? You lock us up, we’ll just jerk off till trial and then what?”

She has no intention on jerking off anywhere, but alright.

 “Worst case,” Jackie continues, “we get a few months, standing room only nowadays. In el bote. Hell, we’ll probably be out early.” 

“These the thieves? Ordinary street trash,” a heavily accented voice comments, a Japanese man in a shimmery golden colored vest comes walking over. 

“Shit, he’s here,” Inspector Stints groans before standing, “got them in custody Mr. Fujioka. We’ll be taking them, now.” 

“It’s a waste of effort, I have no time to testify or play at an investigation.” 

“Suggesting we let ‘em go, sir?” 

“I’m suggesting you throw them in the sea; cuffed, legs broken, so this trash doesn’t float.” 

And with that the man starts to walk away, making his way back to the club, she’s sure, continuing his night of debauchery as if he hadn’t ordered the murder of two strangers just because he could, because he didn’t have time for a trial. And god, she knows she probably has no room to judge anyone else’s morals, but just fuck corpos. 

“You heard him,” the inspector says, because corpo cash pays his salary, she’s sure. 

“Fuuuuck….” Jackie curses as they start to drag him up on his feet by the cuffed hands and she her own arms are wrenched back and cuffed. 

V gets her feet back under her, moving with the pull as they manhandle her off the ground, she kicks back at the officer behind her. Her foot connects with their calf, causing them grunt out in pain as they’re knocked off balance loosing their grip on her wrists. She jumps as high as she can and brings her cuffed hands under her feet to her front. 

Jackie follows suit, kicking the officer off of him, but with his size it knocks them flat on their ass. He shoulder checks another pig as V makes a dive for the Rayfield, it’s door still open amongst this chaos. She lands herself in the drivers seat and hits the ignition. 

“Stop resisting!” Officers yell, fingers on the trigger, and no, that’s not happening. 

“Wait up, chica!” Jackie yells out and she hits the button to open the passenger side door; he’s an asshole, but she’s not leaving him to be thrown in the fucking ocean. 

He throws himself down in the passenger side and she guns it, doors shutting on each side as she takes the turn out the parking exit. She watches from the corner of her eye as Jackie, who’s barely able to fit in the bougie car, brings his cuffed hands down as low as he can. He grunts and curses, not quite as flexible as she is. With effort and twisting, he’s able to get the chain of the cuffs under his foot and then he stomps down while yanking his hands up. The little chain doesn’t stand a chance, breaking into pieces and pinging about the interior as it does so. 

“Much better,” Jackie comments, looking at his wrists which now just have the manacles of the cuffs. 

She rolls her eyes, bringing her attention back on the road and she expects to see sirens chasing after them, but it never happens. Are the cops not chasing them? They should be chasing them? Is she not getting in her second high speed chase since coming here?

“Honestly,” Jackie starts to talk again, he talks a lot, “I was just gonna let Stints free us, but I like the way you think, this way we get the Rayfield too.” 

“What?” She takes a hand off the wheel to sign. 

“Oh shit, you’re actually….my bad…” He awkwardly apologizes for asking if she was deaf earlier because, yes, yes she is. 

“What do you mean, free us?” 

“Stints is a softie as far as pigs go, got Heywood in his blood, would never throw us in the fuckin’ ocean cause some corpo said. And, you can slow down, he won’t chase us, chica.”

“Oh…okay,” she signs, pulling up to a curb, something else to take care of. 

“We stopping here?” 

“You are,” she signs before pulling her gun out and pointing it at him, signing with her other hand, “get out of the car.” 

“Really, chica?” He rolls his eyes, like he didn’t pull this shit on her five minutes ago. 

“Wouldn’t have let you in if I knew Stints was a softie, I got a job to finish, get out.” 

“A fixer line this up for you?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Padre?” 

“Yeah…are you gonna get out of the car or…?” 

“Listen, I was gonna klep the car and then find a fixer to sell it for me, but if you already got Padre involved, we’ll go halfsies.” 

“You pointed a gun at me!” 

“You’re pointing a gun at me, right now!” 

“You did it first!” 

And he laughs and she does too, because they sound like children bickering over who pushed who on the playground. Its dumb and ridiculous and why does she like him? His smile is warm and kind, something about him, welcoming. She drops the gun, tucking it back in her waistband. She press her hand under her mask, trying to suppress her giggles. The tension that’s been clinging to her has snapped. Her body feels lighter, like she can breathe a bit better. She closes the passenger side door, he may be chill, or she’s just easily charmed. But, she’s still going to fuck with him, just a little. 

“Okay, fine, we’ll go halfsies.” 

“See, now you’re making sense,” he grins as they pull out back onto the road, “Jackie Welles.”  

“V…it’s…nice to meet you? I think?” 

“Heh, not from around here, right?” 

“Nah, but, from the sounds of it you’re a local.” 

“Heywood in my veins, chica,  where we meeting Padre?” 

“El Coyote Cujo.” 

“Of course.” 

“You  know the place?” 

“I’ve heard of it,” he says, grinning wide, a joke she’s clearly not in on, “Ah, I got a good feeling about this.” 

“About what?” 

“Us, you and me got chemistry.” 

“Do we now?” 

“Oh, don’t give me that, you feel it too, heard that laugh.” 

“Sure, whatever you say,” she teases as she pulls into the El Coyote Cujo parking lot, pulling the slick corpo car into a spot, “got a phone on you?” 

“You don’t?” 

“I literally have lost everything I own,  alright? Call Padre and put it on speaker.” 

“Fine, fine,” Jackie gets out his phone and calls Padre, phone in one hand and the other stretched across the back of the seats. 

“Jackie? To what do I owe the pleasure.” 

“Here with your newest find, V, we got the Rayfield.” 

“You helped her out?” 

“Well…” 

“He pointed a gun at me and nearly had me thrown in the ocean.” 

“Seems like I have a car and a story waiting on me, I’ll be there shortly.” 

A pain aches in V’s head, migraine spreading across her temple as Jackie hangs up. She rolls the car window down, allowing the chill of the winter night seep in, hoping the fresh air will ease her pain.  V wants a shower, there’s still blood in her hair and she’s sure she still smells like trash. Though, no one’s been cruel enough to point it out. But, she has no idea where she could grab a shower. Why the fuck does her head hurt so much? The pain a steady throb across her entire head. She pinches the bridge of her nose, it didn’t even ache this much when she first came too in the dumpster. 

“You alright V?” 

“Head hurts,” she signs, before turning off her hearing aids, hoping that shutting out the city sounds will help. 

“When’s the last time you ate, chica?” Jackie says, making sure to stay in her eye line as he leans over the middle console, though his biceps nearly touch her even when he isn’t.  Her mask reading his lips to give him subtitles. . 

When was the last time she ate? She didn’t eat all day because she was in a dumpster passed out. The day before was the smuggle run and she didn’t eat before she left Yucca.

“Two days ago.” 

“Fuckin’ for real, no wonder your head’s wonky, once we finish the deal we’ll get some grub.” 

“What made you think that was why?” 

“Ah, my mama gets those migraines when she stops eating from stress, Vik and me keep telling her to take care of herself, but she’s too busy taking care of everyone else.” 

“You and your mom close?” V can’t help but ask, thinking about her own mother for a moment. 

“Oh yeah, family’s important, gotta have people you can turn to out here.” 

“Yeah…” 

“What-”

Headlights shine in through the back glass of the Rayfield, bring their attention to Padre pulling into the parking lot.  His arrival ending whatever question Jackie was about to ask, which may be for the best. She’s not ready to answer questions about family. Not when her head is throbbing, she’s filthy, and her stomach is empty. Padre’s driver comes to a stop and they see Padre gets out of the back. V turns her hearing aids back on, knowing it will make the conversation flow easier as her and Jackie get out of the Rayfield. Her arms collecting goosebumps from the air. 

“Jackie, it’s nice to see you again, how have you been?” He greets Jackie warmly

“Ehhh, can’t complain, same old same old, making new friends,” he says with a grin, nodding his head towards V.

“Never can have too many of those. It’s always nice to chat once business is done.” 

One of Padre’s bodyguards has already climbed into the driver’s seat of the Rayfield. Enging revving up and then fading off into the night as he leaves. Officially finishing up their business. 

“Uh,” Jackie raises an eyebrow, “you getting senile on me, Padre, this is usually the part where eddies change hands.” 

V’s smirking and trying not to laugh behind her mask. Padre gives a look at V’s direction and she looks down at the ground, pursing her lips so she doesn’t laugh. 

“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what you mean.” 

“Ah,” Jackie nods, like he gets it, “no worries, V agreed to go halfsie with me on the Rayfield gig.” 

“Halfsies?” Padre raises an eyebrow, smiling at V, he seems to find her joke at least a little funny. V can’t help the giggle that spills out.

“Am I missing the joke here?” 

“Well, I’m afraid, this was an unpaid job for V here.” 

“What?” Jackie shoots her a sharp look, disbelief coloring his expression. 

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” she taunts. 

“Fuck you!” 

She bursts out laughing, holding her stomach as she cackles behind her mask, the sound echoing strangely through it. But, she can’t stop. 

“You stole a million eddie car for free!? The fuck is wrong with you!?” 

“No, no,” she furiously signs, “I needed info.” 

“Speaking of which, I have your intel here,” Padre says, handing her a shard.

“Give me a moment, my lungs hurt.” 

“I’m glad you're entertained, that info better make you a billionaire.” 

“Nah, personal shit,” she collects herself, “thanks, Padre, it means a lot.” 

“You’re a good kid, make him pay, V.”

“Oh, I will,” V confirms, slotting the shard into a little opening on her mask, info displaying across it. 

The name of a chopshop that rumors say had a nomad vehicle come in, her Rattler no doubt. Sinclaire’s address and regular hang outs, exactly what she needs. Hopefully, he hasn’t had time to sell the cargo yet. If so, she’ll axe him and klep all his shit. 

“What happened?” Jackie asks. 

“Well,” she signs, before taking the shard out, “Sinclaire contracted me to transport some cargo, no fixer, so he fucked me over the second he got a chance. Bashed me over the head, threw me in a dumpster, scrapped all my shit, and took off with the cargo.” 

“So, that’s what that smell is?” 

“I will throw you,” she threatens, but she’s rolling her eyes and smiling. 

“I’d love to see you try, chica.” 

“The chop shop won’t be open until morning and it’s late. It’s up to you, but I’d recommend resting for the night.” 

“Yeah…” She signs, but she can’t help the slight pout. She has no money, no clothes, no food, no shelter. She’ll be sleeping on a bench or something tonight, not much rest. 

“You did good work V,” Padre pats her shoulder as he leaves,” I’m sure I’ll have more jobs for you in the future, paying ones, of course.” 

“Thanks again, Padre.”  

She rubs a hand down her face, migraine still thumping around in her head. Between not eating and having her hearing aids in all day, her head feels on the verge of exploding. 

“So, what’s the plan, jaina?” 

“My plan, why do you wanna know my plan?” 

“Because, you and I both know you’re up shit creek without a paddle here, V. No home, no family, no one to turn to. Night City ain’t a place that will let you get by on your own. Need people you can turn to, if you wanna survive.” 

“And what, you wanna be my friend?” She raises an eyebrow, taken aback by just how kind and friendly he’s really been. 

“Told you already, we got chemistry,” he grins again and it makes her smile, “be a crying shame to waste it.” 

“Okay, friend, what do we do now?” 

“You like chili?

“As a concept, sure.”  

“Settled then, get you a hot meal, change of clothes, a shower ‘cause you fuckin’ need it, and crash with me tonight.”

“And tomorrow?” 

“And tomorrow, we teach that pendejo a lesson, sound good?”  

“Sounds good to me.”

They’re all grins and smiles as they leave the parking lot, knocking shoulders together as they go, walking side by side down the neon lit streets. And she can feel it returning, that little buzz of hope she had in her chest when she first came here, the one she thought was beaten out of her by Sinclaire’s goons, it’s back and brighter than ever. Though not half as bright as Jackie’s smile as they turn a corner towards his mother’s house. 

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #c2077 #female v #fem v #aidan v becker #aidan becker #can you feel the sun

[arofili]

16 with the no hand buddies aka Maedhros and Gwindor?

(This got long. At first I was like “How can I do this justice when it’s been done so well before?” But then I got rolling and remembered just how much I love angst... Under the cut for length!)

~

16. “I can explain,” Maedhros said, raising his hands—well, his hand—into the air. “But please, lay down your weapons. I come in peace.”

“The sons of Fëanor are not welcome in Nargothrond,” growled the guard. “We cast your brothers out for good reason!”

“I was invited.” Maedhros peered over their heads, not a particularly difficult feat considering his height, looking for the one who had called him hither. “I hear that one of your lords was recently returned from Angband.”

“And so you invited yourself?” the second guard demanded.

��Nay, I was sent for. Your princess requested my advice.”

The guards exchanged a disbelieving look. “Princess Finduilas?” the first said. “What does she want with a Kinslayer like you?”

Annoyance flashed across Maedhros’ face. He was not bothered by the insult of Kinslayer—there was not much that bothered him, these days, not truly—but his patience with the guards was wearing thin. “Will one of you send word for her?” he asked, trying not to show his irritation.

“My lord!” came a high voice, and a slight blonde figure appeared from the darkness, rushing toward him. “My lord, you came!”

“You asked for him?” the second guard said, lowering his sword. The first still glowered at him.

“Yes, yes,” the princess—for it could only be she—said hurriedly. “Come with me, Lord Maedhros. Gwindor rests for long hours, but he is awake now; I would not wish you to linger here long, I know you have business elsewhere.”

Maedhros walked past the guards at last, following Finduilas into Nargothrond. It had been a long time since he last visited; Finrod yet reigned, and Curufin and Celegorm had just barely begun to settle in. He had not met the princess, then, for she too was adjusting to a new life in these caverns, her previous home of Minas Tirith having fallen in the same battle where Maedhros’ brothers had lost Aglon.

“It is less that I have business elsewhere, and more that I am not welcome here,” Maedhros rumbled. “Aside from you, Princess, none would welcome a son of Fëanor, not after what my brothers have done.”

“You are not your brothers,” Finduilas said firmly. She glanced up at him with hard eyes. “If I thought you were I would not have called you. Finrod spoke kindly of you, and so did Fingon. I trust you enough to know that you can be of assistance.”

Maedhros did not flinch when she said Fingon’s name. It had been some years since the Nírnaeth, and while he still felt his grief in every moment, he kept it hidden deep within his broken heart.

He had not come here just because the princess’s betrothed had lost a hand, though of course his compassion ran deep for the lord. No, he...there was something he had to know, from Gwindor’s mouth.

Finduilas kept up a stream of information, telling Maedhros what she had already written in her letter: that Gwindor had been captured, not killed, in the Nírnaeth; that he had lost a hand in his escape; that he had come hither with a strange man who called himself Agarwaen, and bore tidings of the death of Beleg Cúthalion. At that Maedhros bowed his head, for Beleg had long been a friend of the Noldor, and his loss was great indeed.

The princess fell quiet when they reached Gwindor’s chambers. “I will remain outside,” she said quietly. “He...does not like having many visitors, and...though I wish it were not so, I believe he is ashamed before me.” She looked up at him, hope bright in her eyes. “Will you...will you help him return to his strength? He was so joyful, once. I know he may never be the same, but...I wish I could bring him some of that joy, again.”

Maedhros nodded. “I will do what I can,” he said. “I know that... It was hard for me. But it was love that saved me, and not only from the cliffs of Thangorodrim. It—it is love that brings me here.”

“As your distant kinswoman I cannot thank you enough,” Finduilas said, reaching out to grasp his hand. “Truly, I am in your debt.”

“Speak not of debts,” Maedhros warned. “My love is not for you, Princess, though I bear you no hatred. It...there was another who would have wished me to do this. For him I will help another as he once helped me.”

He turned before he could see her confusion or her sorrow, whichever she felt, and entered the room.

Gwindor son of Guilin lay abed, staring listlessly into a cup of tea. He did not look up as Maedhros entered. All at once Maedhros remembered why he suffered so—it was his fault, just like Fingon’s death, that the Fifth Battle had been fought, had been lost...it was his fault that Gwindor had endured such hardships. But he steeled himself and knelt beside Gwindor’s bed. Fingon would not want him to dwell on guilt, especially not when there was work to be done.

“My lord,” he said. “Did the princess tell you why I came?”

Gwindor looked up. His eyes were sunken, hollow. “Yes,” he rasped. His voice sounded worse even than Maedhros’ had after his rescue. “I told her I did not want to see you. But she didn’t listen.” At that a bitter smile flickered briefly upon his lips. “She is determined.”

“Yes.” Maedhros suddenly did not know what to say.

“I am surprised that you came,” Gwindor said. “I did not know the lord of Himring had such leisure to visit the infirmed lordling of another kingdom.”

“Himring fell,” he said shortly. “I dwell now in Amon Ereb with my brother. Caranthir,” he added, not wanting to imply he favored Celegorm and Curufin, though they lived there also.

“Further south, but no further west,” Gwindor said. “You still traveled far on my account.”

“Not yours only.” Maedhros would not lie about his motivations, not to one who had been through as much as Gwindor. “I...have some questions about your time in Angband. Though I do wish to impart what little wisdom I may have as a fellow escapee.”

“Too bad I lost the other hand,” Gwindor said drily, lifting the stump of his left arm. “To think, we could have matched.”

Maedhros let out a short bark of laughter. Gwindor looked mildly surprised.

“If there is any who will appreciate such morbid humor, it is I,” he assured Gwindor.

“Speak your questions, then,” Gwindor said, taking a sip of his tea for the first time. “I will answer, or not. And then perhaps you may humor me with advice on how to navigate the world one-handed.”

Maedhros drew a breath. “I know what foolish hope I may have is in vain,” he said, “and yet—I must ask.”

“I was thought dead and yet returned, and so you wish to know if Fingon were imprisoned and not slain.” Gwindor did not seem surprised at the question.

Maedhros bowed his head. “Yes. He rescued me when I was utterly lost, and I—if he were there, in that hell, and I did not attempt the same...”

“He is dead.” Gwindor sighed, more sympathetic than he had any reason to be on Maedhros’ behalf. “And that is my fault, I suppose, for rushing into battle so early.”

“It is mine, for arriving so late,” Maedhros said flatly. “I...I knew he was dead. I could—I felt it. We had...a bond, and it broke. But...”

“I understand.” Gwindor stared down into his cup. “I gave up my brother for dead, and then—he was not, until it was far, far too late. But I saw the body of the king...at least, enough of it to know he truly has gone to Mandos. It was brief; I worked in the mines, not...given special treatment, as it were. I was, again, but a lordling, no High King.”

“Was—” the words choked in his throat, but he forced them out— “Did he die in captivity?”

“I do not believe so. What they did to his corpse looked like it happened after Gothmog was through with him on the battlefield.”

“Again I lose a loved one to that Balrog,” Maedhros said bitterly. “And again his body is lost also. First my father, then my beloved...”

Gwindor stilled. “I knew you were close,” he said.

Maedhros started, but Gwindor did not mock him. “Yes. We were...all but wed.” By some measures, they were more than wed.

“All but wed.” He grimaced. “Aye, that sums it up.”

“The princess?” Maedhros asked. Ah, of course. Gwindor, too, was in love with the child of a king.

“But it was not she who rescued me,” Gwindor mumbled. “Of course not, she is no warrior, no hero...and that did no one any good, in the end.”

“She would rescue you now,” Maedhros said, finally feeling as if he had something meaningful to say to this broken warrior. “She summoned me for that purpose. She wants to see you smile again.”

“How can I, when I have lost everything but her?” Gwindor demanded. “When she deserves so much more than me, than this shell of a person I have become—”

“They will love you anyway, these good-hearted souls,” Maedhros interrupted. “You will not feel like you deserve it. You will wish you had died amidst your torment, rather than see their pity and grief at what you are now. You will hate them, and yourself, and your captors, and you will push everyone away—but he, she will stay by you anyway, her heart true, so much better than you, and love you regardless.” He was crying now, and did not bother to hide it. “If you are lucky you will give up your anguish, let them care for you. Let yourself feel joy, however brief, and wonder at how happy it makes them. If you are unlucky...well.” He gestured to himself. “I find it hard to believe you can be unluckier even than I.”

Gwindor closed his eyes. “You want me to burden her with my horrors.”

“She wants that,” Maedhros corrected. “I do not care what happens to you. But if you care for her...she will not be happy until she is loved the way she deserves, Gwindor. And if she has given her heart to you, then for her sake you must learn to live again.”

Gwindor was silent for a long time. Then: “Alright,” he whispered. “Alright. I will try. For my Faelivrin.” He took a shaky breath and met Maedhros’ eyes with something akin to determination flaring to life within them. “Can you tell me how I may once again wield a sword?”

#silmarillion #maedhros #gwindor #finduilas faelivrin #russingon #finduilas #gwinduilas #silm #my writing #my fic #tefain nin #ask games #anon #answers

[silveryfairy]

hey man if it's not too much trouble, could you give us a brief rundown of the Nocturnes? It's just, every morning I wake up and there's a new one, and I Care everyone in this establishment a lot though I don't really know them, thank you kindly have a nice day

let my preface this by saying: aayushi, i love you, and your enthusiasm and interest for the things i create never ceases to bring me joy. you are the kind of friend i think everyone should have and i say that completely genuinely outside of this bit.

i say that as an apology in advance for what i’m about to unleash upon you, because what you’re going to see is the product of my friend @himepapillon and i’s absolute BRAINROT and what comes of it when not only two people make an oc universe from scratch but what happens when we then have to explain that universe to other people

you are in no way required to retain this information as to be completely honest me and jeremie haven’t fully either and we’re the ones who MADE this shitshow. below is the shoddy family tree i lovingly crafted in ms paint

let us begin. 

for starters, i’ll specify some things:

1. not every oc on this chart is mine, as it’s a collaboration between me and jeremie - the koenig family and bishop family belong to faer but the rest is all me baby! for the sake of your soul i will only be going into my half of this Mess

2. the universe this takes place in is a pretty wacky and silly one, just, like, Slightly removed from reality. these characters are all completely batshit insane and do things that no human being probably should. it’s all portrayed critically, as the general concept of this whole thing is “the goings-on of a bunch of unhinged corrupt rich people”. we kind of flip flop on how seriously stuff is played but if i had to slap a genre on this it’d be, like, black comedy drama. i know a lot of these concepts sound kinda fucked to write but that’s just because i’m trying to describe them in a SOMEWHAT concise way without going into Super Introspective mode

the nocturnes are an incredibly influential and rich family in the uk that tends to produce very influential and rich people. they’re also all a little bit insane. the main characters of this Saga are the sons of desmond and xanthes, the family’s resident Power Couple and biggest figureheads. they suck ass but that will become apparent the second i talk about their children.

from oldest to youngest, the nocturne boys are:

ichor nocturne, 25 - the eldest, ichor was disowned from the household when he was 18 for unruly behavior, sent to live alone on a farm so he couldn’t tarnish his family’s image any further. since then, you’d think the isolation has driven him a bit mad - he’s a very prolific cotton farmer and has been doing astonishingly well for himself, running his farm on his own with only his parents’ inheritance as help. ...that, and, of course, the blood of the people he executes to keep his crops growing - or so he believes. he moonlights as an executioner in the small town over, exterminating the ‘pests’ of the city. despite his newfound violence, he still routinely checks in on his siblings, finding ways to mysteriously end up at their door to pay visits. the older brother instinct still hasn’t left

icarus nocturne, 23 - the second eldest (only by technicality, as he is a twin), icarus is the family’s golden child! but not in terms of business or anything, oh no - icarus is a famous heartthrob teen (sorta) musician! he’s been in the limelight since he was a little boy, being an actor as a small child and getting into music as he grew. his general Look(tm), accompanied by infectiously happy rave music, is a trademark cutesy mask over his face with oversized clothing - meant to express as much energy as possible as he bounces about the stage. in reality, he lives a life as forced and controlled as possible by virtue of... living the fucked up life of a child star. but his parents have someone to take the fall - so, what of his twin?

achilles nocturne, 23 - icarus’ younger twin, which wouldn’t mean much... in any family but this one. achilles has had it drilled into his head since the beginning that he was a mistake next to icarus, to the point where legally, he does not exist. following icarus beginning his career, achilles was unpersoned completely - living in the family’s basement with the height of his education being for a very specific purpose... needing to be icarus’ body double on tours and for paparazzi - after all, they can’t have icarus’ purity tainted by all those clamboring fans! it’s a godawful situation. on the bright side, though, achilles has found a hobby where he can be himself: twitch streaming! yes really. under the name of 1upanonymous, hidden under a mask just like his brother, achilles at least has a fanbase that can love him for who he is! ...uh, kind of.

tomasine “tommy” nocturne, 16 - the youngest of the bunch, and it says a lot about his siblings’ capabilities that he’s the technical heir to the nocturnes’ various businesses and fortune. tommy is just a feral 16 year old that doesn’t give two shits about any fame or fortune, he just wants to party and drink and have fun like any other kid his age! he’s rebellious, loud, and charmingly annoying (to his brothers anyway), and has no real care for the gravity of his family’s situations beyond finding it annoying that they want him to be all PRIM and PROPER and BUSINESSY EEWWWWW. he’s just a funny loud little child trying to live his best life. loves his brothers fiercely

already a mess of people. and really, all you need to know about or really keep in mind are those four: the upcoming characters are largely just side ones we came up with because we thought it’d be funny to flesh out this fucked up family more. so let’s get into the anatra branch of the family - headed by jael nocturne, xanthes’ brother and the siblings’ uncle

jael anatra-nocturne, who i am not giving an age for my own sanity trying to decipher this fucking timeline - a crude and playful uncle, jael is someone the nocturne boys either love (icarus, tommy) or hate (achilles, ichor). constantly joking, as he expresses affection with loving insults - kind of a money-driven asshole, but a lovable one - he’s a career politician and met his current husband, joaquin, on the job. or, well... no longer current, because jael’s funny life of debauchery, toxic masculinity, and making fun of his nephews, came to an abrupt end when he was assassinated on live television. yipes!

joaquin anatra-nocturne, who also does not get an age - jael’s former secretary and current widow, joaquin is the local wine uncle. im not sure if that’s a classification but it is now, because he is one. an unapologetic gold-digger, he (publicly) took jael’s death frighteningly well, and is now living his best life with a revolving door of new boyfriends. his relationship with jael was a genuine and very loving one, and joaquin IS devastated by his death, but both of them just found the bit of pretending to be this loveless gold digger/politician couple very funny, and being as suspicious as possible around his husband’s death is exactly what jael would have wanted joaquin to do

taddeo anatra-nocturne, 14 - the youngest child of these two, a shy little boy with big Child In A Horror Movie energies. makes potions in the backyard and probably decorates his clothes with animal bones n stuff when he’s older. despite this he’s pretty harmless, nice and fiercely loyal - tommy especially thinks he’s fun and likes to hang out with him at family gatherings - just so long as you look past the creepy dolls he likes to talk to and fires he likes to set. especially close with jael and wants to be a miniature version of him, buuut still being a shy tween taddeo hasn’t been able to act on that much.

dailon anatra-nocturne, 20 - the adopted second child of jael and joaquin, dailon is a moody and unstable delinquent that was snatched up by them just as he was about to age out of foster care. while he has a chill ‘cool-older-even-though-he’s-younger-cousin’ demeanor, the tension when he’s around his parents - jael specifically - can be cut with a knife. dailon hates his dad: ‘someone who expresses affection with insults and jokes and likes seeing people pissed at him’ and ‘someone who’s volatile, short-tempered, and sullen after living in a foster home most his life’ are just as bad of a combination as you’d expect. dailon gets himself into a lot of trouble, and is an overall very self-centered prick, but we’ll get more on that in a bit.

HELL FAMILY...2!!! that’s the last of the families to cover, buuuut there are still some other names on that list - mostly connected to dailon. this is REAL “just going on in the background” shit that you also do not need to know whatsoever (except for mitzi she’s pretty important she’s just down here for organization purposes) - i just like to play god and make characters get into drama.

[tw: cheating, unhealthy relationships, stalking]

mitzi “moon” altberg, 23 - achilles must feel very far away by now, but we’re back to him for a second! mitzi is his ex-girlfriend he met online, a fan-to-employee-to-lover and one of the maybe two people outside of the family achilles has shown his real face to. however, achilles growing up deeply unstable - between his parents’ abuse, having spotlights on him and adoring fans both as icarus’ body double and as a streamer, and in general not really growing up to be any kind of well developed human being - made this relationship a complete disaster. he grew obsessive and controlling - and when she tried to ignore him, he broke his one rule (to never go outside without permission) to find the hotel she was staying at in real life and show up to confront her. the incident was completely covered up, both by the nocturnes and with their connections, and so mitzi was forced to stay silent. this entire thing is based on this song! as time heals wounds, though, mitzi will end up doing pretty well for herself and putting achilles behind her - even getting a new boyfriend, jared!

reynard fiala, 20 - dailon’s (ex-)boyfriend, who he’s enraveled in his own weird soap opera subplot with. reynard is a relatively chill person, with an interest in art and taxidermy - just as morbid as dailon’s brother, but in a more. Normal way. genuinely a sweetheart who does not deserve what happens to them: getting cheated on with dailon’s best friend. yipes^2! while it's earth shattering in the moment, all reynard will really want to do come some time to process is to move on and for him and dailon both to heal in peace... far away from eachother (which is easier said than done since taddeo thinks reynard is super cool and loves having him over, the awkwardness between them and his brother be damned)

jared summers, 21 - the most normal person here. a longterm best friend of dailon’s, and yes, the very same one i just mentioned. he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer - what we in the industry would call a himbo if his dumbassery didn’t cause very real damage - who had been pining for dailon for years and him dating was no deterrent, and dailon, thinking the world revolves around him as he tends to do, accepted jared’s confession so they just kinda started dating on the side. jared has the moral backbone of a pool noodle, and even after it causes dailon’s relationship with reynard to fall apart, will need a wholeass intervention to be staged to make them both realize just how shitty they’re being. after that, though, jared will end that mess and be on his way to becoming a better person himself - with the help of a sweet girl he’s met online.

jared and mitzi dating in the future is the most contrived thing on the planet but just hear me out that it’ll be HILARIOUS for achilles to check in on his ex-girlfriend and find she’s dating his cousin’s best friend, who said cousin was apparently dating on the side. very small world, it is. 

anyway, thank you if you’ve somehow stuck around to read this entire thing - this isn’t even getting into jeremie’s half of this whole ordeal, which includes some of these fellas’ friends and partners, as well as more crazy rich people nonsense. it’s been very fun to think about and i do love it all dearly, even if putting it all together it’s SUCH a mess.

we don’t intend to make anything Legit out of this, it’s honestly just a fun way to pass the time. it’s the adult equivalent of playing dollhouse. in our minds this is like a 20 season soap opera but actually explaining it to other people it’s just like this

but thank you again for letting me babble i hope it was somewhat entertaining! and again, godspeed if you managed to read this much XD

#nocturnes #ichor nocturne #icarus nocturne #achilles nocturne #tommy nocturne #jael anatra nocturne #joaquin anatra nocturne #taddeo anatra nocturne #dailon anatra nocturne #mitzi moon #jared summers #reynard fiala

[multisfabulis]

Only Through Acceptance Will Love Find Us

The Florist of Belleurseul (Chapter 1)

Word Count: 5728

What's this? Another update from me within less than a week? What is this witchcraft?!

I'm joking, of course, but this is, for sure, another update! For those that didn't read the notes for "Land's Trust in Light", you can disregard this but all I'll say is that it is practically unheard of for me to post twice in the same month, much less the course of two weeks, so I'm having a bit of fun with myself.

Anyway, I know I said in the last chapter I wouldn't update this story much because I consider this a backburner project, meaning I wouldn't devote much attention to it unless it was one of the rare occasions I had nothing else to write at the moment. However, I figured that, since I only left everyone a 500 word prologue last time, it'd only be fair to write and post the first chapter so you guys would have something to chew on while waiting for the next chapter. It's after this I'll be putting this story on the backburner to be worked on occasionally, meaning no frequent updates. Have fun with the foreshadowing I put in here!

Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!

     “Thank you, have a nice day!”

     At that, Venlithea Virthana slid the gold coin into her pocket. She managed to bring in a good sum of money today, despite the encroaching winter. Pride coursed through her at the thought of having sold that many flowers and she had to stop herself from jumping for joy. She instead settled on walking with a bounce to her step as she wondered if things were finally looking up.

     Days like today didn’t happen very often. Some days had only a handful of regulars show up while others none. Then there were days she’d be verbally harassed or even pushed to the ground, which would spill her flowers out on the ground to be trampled upon by unsuspecting or uncaring passersby. Those happened enough times she stopped being bothered by them a long time ago. She was highly thankful today wasn’t like those days.

     She had only one thing left to do before going home and that was to return the book she borrowed from the bookshop. She planned on exchanging the book with the one she regarded as her favorite so she’d have something enjoyable to read for the next few days while her mother was out of town. Gripping her basket tightly in her hands, she set off for the bookshop.

     Venlithea, or Ven as she preferred to be called, has lived in the small, quaint village of Belleurseul all her life. Anyone could mistake it for being a quiet, sleepy town in the middle of nowhere if not for the people. The village sprang to life every time a visitor dropped by and they would deem the occasion as cause to celebrate. She’s had plenty of sleepless nights from the noise these parties brought to her door. It’s partly due to this she’s wanted to leave Belleurseul for years.

     It’s been her and her mother’s dream to go and find a new place for them to live. A place they could truly, truly call home. In order to do that, though, they needed money and lots of it. Her mother was a traveling merchant, which fetched them a nice amount of gold, but her sickly nature’s prevented her from going on many trips. Once she was old enough to, Ven began selling flowers she grew herself as a way to help out. It wasn’t much but it kept them afloat.

     Working as a florist’s been hard. She wasn’t stupid to believe she’d earn tons of money selling flowers, especially in a rural village like Belleurseul. She just didn’t expect the struggles that came with being a flower girl. Better yet, the struggles of her being a flower girl.

     As beautiful as this village was, it wasn’t perfect. Some of the buildings were falling apart, the scent of fermented waste lingered in the air, and she’s known from experience how cruel the people were. They’ve made no secret on how much they dislike, and even fear, things different from them. She and her mother weren’t like them, thus they were outcasts, pariahs.

     She received the brunt of their harsh treatment. She’d hear the rumors and gossip spread about her when she walked into town. Stories of how she was a changeling born from fairies or how she was a witch sent from hell to curse them were just the tip of the iceberg. She knew they were utter nonsense but what point was there in denying them if the villagers continued to tell those tall tales, regardless of how she felt? The way she looked wasn’t her fault yet---

     She fervently shook her head to rid herself of those thoughts. She couldn’t, wouldn’t dwell on painful memories. Today was a good day and musings of the past weren’t going to ruin that for her. She needed to get what she wanted to do done so she could help Mother prepare for her upcoming trip. She hurried off to the bookshop, ignoring the pointed looks people gave her as she passed by.

     Within minutes, she arrived at her destination. The bookshop was a small, one-story building settled on a busy street corner north of the village. It had dark yellow walls that were beginning to flake with age, large windows on either side, a thin, wooden door, and a rusty sign hanging above with the word “Bookshop” carved into it. She’s come to this place ever since she was a child and the owner considered her his favorite customer. She stepped inside, the familiar smell of musty books enveloping her.

     There were stacks of books scattered across the wooden floor. Bookcases that stretched all the way up to the ceiling stood at the back and sunlight streamed in from both the windows. To her left was an old, rickety counter that came up to her chest and behind it was the owner of the bookshop. He was an older man with graying hair and round glasses sitting atop his nose and was reading a book when he noticed her. He grinned warmly at her.

     “Ah, Ven, you’re back!” he said excitedly, putting his book down and walking around the counter. “How’s your day been? Are you returning a book?”

     “That I am--” she fished the book out of her basket and handed it to him-- “and it’s been great, thank you for asking.”

     Fixing his glasses, he squinted his eyes and exclaimed, “You finished this already? It’s only been a day!”

     “What can I say? I’m a fast reader,” she replied with a giggle. “Any new additions for me yet?”

     He let out a hearty laugh. “Not since you asked yesterday but I’ll let you know as soon as I do. Now, go on, take your pick!”

     She practically skipped over to the bookcases in the back. It was a shame she couldn’t borrow more than one book at a time. It wasn’t as if the owner wouldn’t let her, it was just that she’d get too distracted with one she’d forget all about the other. She hated being somewhat of a scatterbrain when it came to books. Still, there was only one she wanted and she was going to have it. Reaching the middle bookcase, she took out the thin, hardcover book.

     “I’ll go with this one.” She held it up to him. “Will that be all right?”

     Taking it from her, he asked, “That one again? Haven’t you read this twice now?”

     “Yes, but it’s just so good,” she replied, playing with her hands. “I consider it my favorite.”

     “Oh, it has to be if you’re saying that! Tell me, what is it you like so much about it?”

     “Oh, uh, well, um…”

     She struggled to come up with an answer. She was a horrible liar but the truth was too embarrassing to reveal. How could she tell him about the deep sense of yearning the book left her with each time she read it? The way her heart hurt when she had to depart from the world that gave her comfort? How it filled the hole inside her by letting her have what she desperately wanted for only a short time? There was no way she could talk about such intimate things with anyone, least of all him.

     “There’s just so many things I like that it’s hard to pick just one,” she answered, hoping it didn’t sound as stilted as it did in her head. She technically wasn’t lying so it might’ve seemed convincing.

     With a guffaw, he put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Tell you what, why don’t you keep that book since you like it so much?”

     “Really?” she asked, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly take this from you without---”

     “Ven, I can think of no one else better to hand this book to--” he squeezed her shoulder before retracting his hand and grabbing his chin-- “but if you’re so insistent on paying me back, bake me the usual.”

     “Blackberry bread, right?” She grabbed the book from him and opened the door with a smile. “I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow morning!”

     She turned to page one right after exiting the bookshop. Her eyes read over the familiar words just as they had twice before. It was a good thing she’d gotten so used to reading while walking in town, she knew what accidents to expect. With that, she fully immersed herself in her beloved fantasy world.

     Flying down some steps with an unusual grace was easy. Pushing the sign above her up to protect herself from getting soaked, she could do with her eyes closed. She was small and agile enough to carefully dodge people barreling past her. It was when she already reached the third chapter she noticed the soreness in her legs. She decided to take a short rest and sat on the rim of the nearby fountain.

     The noises of the world around her faded away as she continued reading. All she heard now was birdsong and the crunching of snow under her feet. She imagined herself to be in a castle’s courtyard, a wintry wonderland. She could almost feel the bitter cold nipping at her hands and face and she shuddered. Her heart fluttered in her chest upon seeing how close she and the princely beast were to each other. She began to wonder if there was there that wasn’t there before and then---

     Loud bleating tore her out of her imagination. She looked up and saw several fluffy sheep gathering around her. One that seemed to be an older lamb pushed its way through the herd, bleating up at her. A smile broke across her face as she petted its head, giving it scratches behind its ear like she always did. She liked animals; they weren’t judgmental and she loved being affectionate towards them. Pets, strokes, scritches, and kisses were part of the whole package.

     Then it tore out a corner of her page and ate it. She let out an annoyed sigh as she continued scratching the lamb’s ear. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t miffed at the small display of destruction but it was better to forgive and forget. It’s not like the lamb did it maliciously and it was only a corner. She could get over missing a corner of an illustration-less page.

     Now was the time to be getting home. The sheep parted to make way for her and she flipped the page before crossing through the main thoroughfare. However, it was hard for her to focus on reading when there was a commotion going on. She looked up to see a crowd surrounding someone, with loud squeals and all. Ah, so the wayfaring Casanova was back in town.

     Renard Géroux stood in the center with his signature charming smile. His blond hair flowed down to his shoulders in waves, not a stray strand anywhere on his handsomely chiseled face. The sun complemented his dark brown skin and the sheer white of his clothes made him seem as if he were glowing. The most striking thing about him, though, were his icy blue eyes. Eyes that were now locked on hers.

     She felt a shiver run up her spine as he approached her. Everyone was like a giant to her but Renard was truly the embodiment of one. She had to crane her head up to meet his gaze, standing just at his chest. What could he want with her and how quick could she get away?

     “Oh, hello, Thea, how are you today?” he asked, flipping his hair back. “It’s rare to see you outside at this time of day.”

     Closing her book, she fought the urge to huff out a sigh and replied, “Hello, Mr. Géroux. I just got done running an errand I had to do after work so I’m on my way home.”

     “Please, call me Renard,” he said while flashing a smile.

     “Mr.---Renard, I’m in a slight hurry here so please, tell me what it is you want with me.”

     “Since you asked me so nicely, I was wondering if you would like to take a walk with me later today?”

     She hoped he didn’t see her bristle at his suggestion. The many women that huddled around him gave her glares full of daggers. How she wished she could tell them he was all theirs and that she wanted nothing to do with him. It was rather unfortunate she wasn’t a mind-reader.

     “Surely you know of the rumors about me, right?” she asked in an attempt to dissuade him. “Do you really want someone known to be a witch spending time with you? I’d be tarnishing your pristine image.”

     “I tend to not believe in rumors, gossip, and the like. Now--” he wrapped a svelte arm around her shoulders-- “how about that walk?”

     Quickly shaking off his arm, she replied in a deceptively calm voice, “As much as I appreciate the offer, I must decline. I was going to help my mother prepare for her upcoming trip and I planned on relaxing by reading my book.”

     “Oh, come on,” he scoffed. “I hardly think reading some old, dusty tome is better than taking a nice stroll with me.”

     She felt her temper flare up and forced herself to smile. “Some people may agree with you but I find good entertainment in books. Maybe you should try them some time.”

     “What, like this one?” He snatched the book in her hands away. “How can anyone have fun with these?”

     Her eyes widening in panic, she reached up to try grabbing the book from him while practically begging, “Renard, can you please give that back?”

     “How can you even read this?” He carelessly flipped the book open to a random page. “It’s so wordy and long and there’s not even any pictures in it.” Then he threw the book over his shoulder. “You don’t need that.”

     Her heart stopped when she saw it land in a nearby mud puddle. She dove to the ground and fished it out, praying it wasn’t badly damaged. Relief crashed over her upon seeing that it was only mildly wet. If it had gotten soaked, she would’ve been seriously upset and devastated.

     “So how about it?” he asked nonchalantly. God, she really wanted to tell him off but causing a scene was the last thing she needed.

     Instead, she took a deep breath and answered, “I’m simply too busy, Renard. Maybe when I’m free, then I’ll consider it but for now, I’m saying no.”

     Holding the book close to her chest, she turned to go home. All she had to do was see her mother, bake the blackberry bread, and garden. Tending to her flowers always seemed to calm her down.

     “So are you going to end up like your crackpot mother, then?”

     She stopped walking as soon as she heard those words. Her fingers were beginning to hurt from how tight she held her book and she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from shouting. She was pissed, for lack of a better term. She could handle the insults hurled her way but her mother was another story.

     Breathing in, she stormed over to him and asked, “What did you say?”

     “You heard me,” he replied, crossing his arms and returning her glare.

     “I thought you said you didn’t believe in rumors.”

     “They’re not rumors if they’re true. I mean, your mother’s always selling these so-called ‘herbal remedies’ and passing them off as medicine, right? Wasn’t it because of one of those strange concoctions her lover died?”

     “You should fact-check your sources because you’re wrong on all accounts. Everyone knows how her lover died and even if they didn’t, that matter is none of their concern. Secondly, my mother’s a traveling merchant who happens to be an herbalist on the side. Herbalism is just another method of practicing medicine and is not something to be considered as witchcraft.”

     “Thea---”

     “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go help my mother prepare.”

     Turning around, she started going back home when she stopped suddenly and looked behind her shoulder. “And another thing. Go to hell, Renard.”

     Then she crossed over the bridge leading to her house. She was almost expecting Renard to grab her and demand she apologize but thankfully didn’t. He needed to be knocked down a peg or two. He shouldn’t have said those kinds of awful things about her mother. He was just like them.

     She couldn’t begin to imagine how hard it was to raise a child all alone. Her mother tried her best to give her everything she needed, despite the struggles. There were nights she’d hear her crying, nights she’d go hungry, yet she faced her with a loving smile every morning. She became a florist to a town open with its prejudice as a way to repay her mother for all she had done for her. She wasn’t a crackpot; she was a hardworking, devoted mother and she loved her.

     Her anger dissipated when she arrived home. It was a small, two-story house that sat on the outskirts of Belleurseul, with amber walls and pine green accents. It had an equally small stable around the back and a water wheel on the side closest to the stream. It may not have looked like much but it was home. She was going to miss this old house when she and Mother moved.

     She walked towards the stable and she saw a woman. She was tall, olive-skinned, and a little on the plump side but it only added to her beauty. Her rich, burgundy hair was tied back into a thick braid and fell past her shoulder as she spread a handful of seed over the ground to feed the chickens. She turned to face her upon hearing footsteps and eyes the color of toasted pecans warmed at the sight of her. This was her adoring mother, Nithenoel Ravavyre.

     Coming out of the stable, she greeted her daughter with a quick hug and kiss before asking, “Hi, sweetheart, how was work today?”

     “Hello, Mother, it was great actually. Here, let me show you.” She took some of the coin she gathered today out of her pocket and presented them to her. “There’s more where those came from.”

     “Oh my…” Mother said under her breath, bringing the handful of coin closer to see them clearly.

     “Today must’ve been my lucky day!”

     “I’ll say!” She closed her fingers over the coins. “Listen, how about we go inside and put those away so we can talk, hmm?”

     The two women climbed up the stone steps leading to the front door. It was a dark, well-made door with a makeshift peephole in the center. Ven was hit with a blast of warmth when Mother opened the door and it felt very nice against the cold. The fireplace must be lit if it was this warm.

     Upon entering, they passed by the narrow staircase that led up to the second floor and cut across the living room. It was small but it was the perfect size for them. The walls were a nice cream color and hanging off them were several paintings Mother had done when she was younger, way before her time. To their right was a light wood cupboard where Ven set down her basket and book and above it was an oval mirror. On the other side was a small, brown sofa and a low table sat in front of it on top of a big, dark blue rug. At the back was the lit fireplace and windows where sunlight was streaming in, a couple chairs were placed in front of the fireplace with a thin blanket hanging on the back of one of them. The next room they went in was the kitchen.

     It was tiny. There were four cabinets above the four counters that stretched from one honeyed wall to the tall pantry. On the opposite side of the counters was a small breakfast nook that served as their dining table with a couple stools sitting under it. A footstool was tucked in the nook’s corner for when Ven needed to fetch something from the cabinets or pantry, which was every day. She couldn’t wait to have a bigger kitchen when they finally moved.

     Mother sat at the nook while she opened one of the counter doors. Inside were linens meant to come out when they had guests over but that wasn’t what she was looking for. She tossed some sheets aside to uncover a mason jar. It was heavy and she set it down on the nook. Unscrewing the top revealed tons of gold inside from years of working and saving up.

     It was what they called their nest egg. They needed some serious money for their dream to become a reality and this was the result of their hard work. They’d have more if times weren’t rough and they didn’t have to dip into their savings but no use in dwelling on those.

     As she was dropping her coin into the jar, Mother asked, “So, any other news to share?”

     “Well, I returned the book I borrowed yesterday and guess what?” She screwed the top back on as Mother looked at her expectantly. “The owner gave me my favorite book for free!”

     “That’s great, honey. I suppose it’s the one you set on the cupboard back there?” She leaned back on the stool to see it. “For free, too?”

     “Well, I have to bake him his blackberry bread but it was his deal, not mine!” she replied, putting the jar back in its spot under the counter. The sheets she tossed aside earlier were thrown over the jar to hide it better.

     Giggling, Mother leaned forward and said, “I know, honey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. That book’s the one where the beast falls in love with the girl who shows him the true meaning of love, right?”

     “Mm-hmm and it’s all mine!”

     “I’m happy for you, Thea. You know, speaking of, have you found someone you can call your prince yet?”

     She let out a sigh upon hearing the question. It was hard to find and be interested in someone when the whole village seemed to hate her. She had people she’d fancied before but she knew to keep her expectations low and realistic. If she did have a “prince”, they certainly weren’t in Belleurseul.

     “Mother, you know I'm not interested in romance,” she replied, bringing the footstool out of its corner.

     “Not interested or haven’t found anyone yet?” Mother asked.

     “Both!” She set the footstool down in front of a counter and climbed up it. “I don’t see the point of trying to find love here since we’ll be leaving Belleurseul sometime in the future.”

     “What about that Renard fellow? I hear he’s back in town.”

     “Ugh, Mother, don’t even joke about that. That man is an arrogant and pompous jerk who thinks he’s the hottest thing alive. I don’t wanna be anywhere near him.”

     “My, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so strongly about someone before. Did he do anything to you?”

     “No, it’s just…he makes me uncomfortable.”

     “Uncomfortable?”

     “Yeah. I don’t know how to explain it but--” she held a bundle of sugar in her hands before setting it down beside her-- “he gives me bad vibes. He hasn’t said or done anything to raise any red flags for me but he just gives me a weird feeling.”

     She couldn’t explain it any other way. She could sense there being something off about him since their first meeting years ago. He seemed normal, if a little too forward at times, but she couldn’t shake off the apprehension she felt around him. Maybe it was her dislike of people like him that gave her discomfort. Either way, she knew she didn’t want to be alone in a room with him.

     “Thea, you still have your dagger, right?” Mother asked with an unusually serious expression.

     She stepped down from the footstool and smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Mother, I always keep it with me when I go out. See?” She walked around the nook and lifted her skirt up to reveal the small leather holster strapped to her thigh. “If he tries anything, I’ll make sure to defend myself.”

     “I know you will, hon, I just can’t help worrying about you.” She turned in her seat to cup her cheek. “You’re my only child, Thea. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

     “I’ll be fine, Mother,” she said, laying her hand atop hers to comfort her. “Trust me.”

     Without a word, Mother stood up and kissed her on the forehead. Then she hugged her, her arms wrapped tightly around her tiny body. She returned it in the hopes it’d ease her anxiety. They’ve only really had each other for as long as she could remember; they were each others’ world, in a sense. It’d shatter if something happened to one or the other so she understood her mother’s concern. The best she could offer were words of assurance and those had to be enough.

     Mother pulled away and resumed their conversation from earlier. She was good about alleviating the gloomy atmosphere so she welcomed the change in topic. It shifted back to her lack of interest in love, with Mother expressing that she only wanted her to be happy and her saying that she had a whole lifetime ahead to find love so she wasn’t worried. One of a kind, the words Mother used to describe her. She wondered if she really was so special.

     She stayed in the kitchen to bake while Mother went down into the cellar to make some last-minute elixirs. The cellar was where she worked to create her herbal medicine to sell during her time on the road. She wouldn’t need to travel so far if the villagers believed she wasn’t going to poison them but her reputation was considered to be unsalvageable at this point. Ven was only allowed to tend to the herbs down there because Mother refused to let her help in the synthesizing process. There was a safety risk involved, or so she said.

     Baking was a mindless activity. She didn’t need to read the labels on the measuring cups or fill the spoons to the brim, she’d done this so many times. Kneading the dough let her focus on her hands and work out any energy she may have needed to spend. It gave them food if they had none, it gave her an outlet. The last thing she did was stick the blackberry dough into the fireplace to cook. She watched as the dough expanded into its loaf shape and her mouth was watering at the smell of it. She took the newly-baked bread out and waited for it to cool down before cutting it. One half was for Mother while the other for the bookshop owner.

     Then it was time to pack. They began loading up the wagon with the goods Mother wanted to sell, making sure she had enough oil in her lantern to last her for several days, and stocking her with plenty of food for both her and the horse. Dahlia was a beautiful Clydesdale, large and powerful but sweet as can be, with a chestnut coat, blonde mane, and the most soulful brown eyes. She’s been with them ever since she was a young foal and was used to taking long trips such as these.

     “Well, I think I’m set to go,” Mother said, fastening her hat as she walked up to the wagon. “I’ll be back in a few days so remember to feed the animals and---”

     “Take care of myself, I know, Mother, don’t worry,” she cut off. “Everything will be fine.”

     Letting out a small laugh, she gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Thea.”

     “Love you too.” She returned the hug. “See you soon.”

     Mother climbed up to the seat and took hold of the reins. Ven approached Dahlia to stroke her neck, asking her to keep themselves safe till they were home again. With a cry, the wagon began to move and turned on the road heading out of the village. Mother and Ven waved each other goodbye.

     “Stay safe!”

     “You too!”

     It was late in the afternoon when Mother left. She went over her mental checklist to see what else she needed to do. The animals were fed their lunch, she’d done all her chores for the day, and she took care of the bread for tomorrow. She had the rest of the daylight hours free and she knew exactly how she wanted to spend them. She strode back inside to read her book.

     Before she picked it up, she glanced at the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her as she thought about the rumors the villagers spread of her. She wasn’t a witch or a changeling, that much she knew for sure. But what other explanation was there for how she looked? No one looked like her, no human in the whole world ever looked like her, so why did she? Books held the answers she wanted but those were fantastical and she lived in reality. A reality that couldn’t apply to her.

     Her face seemed normal enough, even if it resembled a fairy’s from an illustration in one of her books. Bright, round eyes, small button nose, rosy cheeks, and full lips were all the defining marks of a fey. Maybe her skin counted as well, since she’s heard it described as being pale as moonlight. Long, snow white locks of hair framed her face in a way that matured her as the rest, although tied back, cascaded down her back like a waterfall to her waist. Then there were her eyes.

     Everything else could be explained away but not her eyes. They were truly a mystery, an impossibility made possible. They were a vivid violet, similar to dark amethyst gems or bellflowers in full bloom. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could determine why she was born with them but that didn’t stop the villagers from making their own interpretations. They weren't quiet about it, either.

     Maybe the reason she loved this book was because she could sympathize with the beast. She understood what it was like to be feared, hated simply for her looks. They were both cursed but his was a spell that could break. Hers was a matter of permanence, something she was stuck with till the day she passed on from this world. Who could love a beast like her?

     She needed to escape. Her emotions were starting to get the best of her and staying in reality any longer would surely cause them to overflow. She gingerly grabbed the book, sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace, and began to read from where she left off at. This was fine.

     Be patient, she told herself. Just wait a little more and you won’t feel this way ever again. You’ll find your prince. You won’t be lonely anymore. You’ll be loved and accepted, you just need to wait a little longer.

     She hoped that day would come soon.

#airi's writing #oc; Venlithea #oc; Renard #oc; Nithenoel #beauty and the beast au

[studentville-struggles]

A Double Life

Chapter 4!

A self-indulgent Daniel Ricciardo fic.

Summary: Returning to old passions results in the start of chaos and living a double life. We say we hate chaos, but the thrill is unlike anything else.

Words: 1,709

Masterlist // Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

You may have been young but that did not mean a FIA gala wouldn’t result in a two day hangover. God bless past Rachel for booking the day after off. You couldn't actually communicate appropriately just how crap you were feeling and your film crew were loving it. They may not have been able to go into the gala with you but they did get to do a good before and after comparison. Unfortunately for you, you had to return to the lab on the second day of your hangover and your office mates were oh so giddy at calling out how deathly you looked.  

Despite the severity of your hangover, you could remember a surprising amount of the night. Although, you did wake up with a mysterious number texting you and didn’t remember giving it away so that might have been a lie.  

You remembered dancing with teammates new an old. You remembered collecting your award. You remember telling Lewis, Daniel looked fit as fuck. Oh shit. Damn that free wine. You remembered Lewis dragging you over to chat to Daniel and Max, disappearing as soon as you were chatting.  

You remembered rolling your eyes at something Daniel said, you remembered him taking your hand to twirl you around in your dress, complimenting the style. You remembered laughing. You remembered thinking he wasn’t a dick. You remembered him walking you to your taxi. You weren’t sure, however, how accurate your memory was of the feeling of his lips on your cheek as he said goodnight.  

What the hell happened and where the fuck was Lewis.  

Other than the whole Daniel fiasco, the night had been possibly the best of your life. Your friends in F2 were buzzing with team mix ups and a couple of you progressing up. The people you knew in F1 were lovely and very complimentary of your season. So many people were congratulating you on your new contract that you could barely stop smiling from thinking of the season to come.  

Dancing for hours on end, everyone seemed to be happy. The feeling of being overwhelmingly happy, nothing but joy and laughter, was one would could never forget.

However, despite the remaining headache to remind you of the night, you were back in reality, roasting in your lab. Happy with the explanation that you'd ‘had a big night’, your lab-mates were happy to joke and poke fun at your mis-fortune. With your office being on the 9th floor, and your lab on the 11th, it was always on the warmer side of things. You could definitely testify that a loud, warm environment was not where you wanted to be when you were hungover.

A couple of weeks after the gala you were fully into your newest off-season training programme, but with all the other drivers not having the limitations of a second job, they were feeling far more social than usual. There were more texts, more twitch streams, more fun. You were, however, in your final year of your PhD, drowning in lab work and data that needed analysing. You didn’t know if you could handle any more stress and yet life was continuously saying ‘lol sure’.  

Seeing the lighter side of your friends in the driving world was nice. You couldn’t wait to have that freedom after your PhD. You loved it, you truly did. You loved science; you loved the methodical nature of it, you loved the sample preparation – no matter how much you complained about do it. It was wonderful, but you knew your heart was truly in driving and you couldn’t keep up doing both. It was slowly taking its toll, you knew that. Burn out was inevitable really.

One more year. You just had to do one more year, and a little more because let's face it you were going to run over time on this... you worked three days a week instead of five or seven.  

Lewis was becoming an evermore important person to lean on and learn from. The odd weekend you spend with him when he was on his uncle duties brought you so much joy and reminded you of the need to spend time with family and friends and keep a social life.  

Sitting down with Lewis, one of the rarer times you allowed your mentor times to be filmed, you sunk down into the sofa and got comfy. You may have been in a reality show but the illusion that every waking moment is filmed, is in some cases, well an illusion. You hadn’t planned anything for this meeting so you had assumed this would be a more personal one. Though you couldn’t quite have imagined just how personal.  

“Heard you had a rough couple of days after the gala” You scowled at him

“You would know, you facetimed me every other hour to laugh at me.”  

Lewis had found your exceptional hangover hilarious. You did not appreciate that. Although now you were no longer hungover you could definitely see the funny side of things.  

The two of you sat and discussed your various plans for the off season; what family time you had planned and when you were hoping to go travelling and where. With the first race of the year being in Australia, you couldn’t wait to get out there and explore, as well as acclimatising as much as possible to give yourself the best possible start.

Somewhere deep in the back of your mind was a niggling thought, a small suggestion of ‘what if you bumped into Daniel when you were out there?’. You pushed that right back down as soon as it reared its head. There was no way you’d bump into anyway – Australlia is bloody massive! Also why Daniel? Ricciardo and yourself had only spoken a handful of times since the gala, although to conceded he was only a little bit of an arse now.  

Almost as if he could read your mind, Lewis dived right into the ‘any boys’ line of questioning.  

“I don’t exactly have time for a relationship right now; between the training, race prep and all my lab work I have to catch up on” You explained, a small amount of panic starting to rise as you began remembering all the work you have planned, papers your supervisor wants written.

As Lewis began shaking his head at you, a notification popped up on your phone.

“Heard you’re heading to Oz early.” Dan’s message caught you off guard. You’d only very loosely planned things with your family about travelling out. Although almost as soon as you’d finished reading a strange warm feeling was making itself known, a little lopsided smile gracing your cheeks.  

“What’s got you grinning like a school girl?” Lewis asked, leaning over to try and get a glimpse of your screen.  

“Nothing!” You locked your phone and tucked it under your legs, a guilty grin now facing Lewis.

Perhaps you wouldn’t have to bump into him after all.  

You didn’t know what was going through your head but you didn’t like it. You couldn’t be getting warm non usual feelings for anyone that was a competitor. Friendships were good, we liked those, until you sort through weird drunk gala memories, you were not okay with the weirdness stirring within.

After heading home a couple of hours later, you lay in the darkness of your room, tucked under the safety of your sheets, finding yourself texting back the one person who might cause you trouble this next year.  

Arguably the most intense and important year of your life, and what were you doing? Adding to the chaos.  

You did say you lived for the drama. All you would have to do is wait for the end of the off-season and see what Australia would bring for you.  

Australia brought a lot. Mostly heat, but a lot of other stuff too.

Australia was a stunning country, and having a local tour guide definitely helped. You knew how important family time was for Daniel when it was off-season, it was the worst kept season in F1. He very graciously offered to be your tour guide for the couple of days that you were spending exploring Perth.  

He took you around the local spots; the best shopping, the best food, the best bars and the best beaches. You couldn’t deny that there was a definite friendship blossoming between the two of you. Things just seemed to click, it was easy now.

Getting back into the paddock was a feeling you could never describe. It was relief, excitement, joy, nerves, it was a mix of everything. It was like a switch was flipped in your mind. You could feel the buzz of being back in the car again rushing through your veins.  

Although first; media.  

Being your rookie season, there was a lot of attention on you and what you could produce. A lot of people were excited by your arrival back on the racing scene. Some were pissed beyond belief. Some hated the fact you were a woman in F1; how dare you take a man's seat in this sport. It was safe to say a lot of people were expecting, if not hoping, you would fail and fail fast.  

Thankfully a good majority of the fans you met were lovely and put a huge grin on your face. Cheeks almost hurting from all the smiling you were doing.  

your favourite interview was with Sky Sports F1, a bit more informal as you were wandering around the paddock towards the end of thursday. It was just fun. They chatted about your comeback, how you seemed to be dominating everything you tried; they chatted about your budding friendship with Max and Lando on twitch; the importance of having a mentor like Lewis. It was everything you wanted in an interview. The last question you found the best.

“How are you finding the new media world and increased interviews. Does it feel weird having all the cameras around now?” You couldn’t help but smile. You turned ever so slightly and pointed off to the side where you could see some of your production team for the tv show.

“My life is already filmed 24/7; I am very used to it.”

#studentville struggles #rachel tries to write #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fic #f1 fics #f1 fic #danny ric #in love with danny ric

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Forget Me Not (2/15) ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 2.7k

Warning: Angst

A/N: Thank you all for the lovely feedback, I truly appreciate it! This series might turn out to be 15 chapters long unless I decide to tweak it. But anyways, I hope you enjoy this next part!

Part 1

There was a stillness in the air once you opened your eyes, a stream of daylight blinding you as it slipped past between parted curtains. Your head throbbed excruciatingly, but your body felt numb. When the bright light subsided, you glanced around the room but saw it as a blurry haze. Slowly, your vision settled, only then realizing where you were.

You were in the hospital.

You blinked once, then twice, trying to recall what had happened, but nothing was coming to mind. Deciding that your memory would return eventually, you took a moment to survey your surroundings. You couldn’t do much else, not when you have an IV needle hooked into your arm and were also attached to a monitor.

Fresh floral arrangements decorated your space, bringing some much-needed vibrancy inside the dull and gloomy room. In one corner, you caught sight of a sleeper chair with a white blanket folded neatly on top of a pillow. You wondered to yourself who would choose to stay the night, sleeping on that small uncomfortable recliner.

Other than those, there was nothing else remotely interesting about the room. As you laid in bed, you matched your breathing to the lulling sounds of the machine beeping at your side. You stared up at the cold white ceiling, counting each gray speckle that you could find on the panels above. You had reached fifty before you were startled by the door opening, a nurse then stepping inside the room.

“You’re awake,” the woman commented, quickly walking over to your bedside. She was around the same age as your mother, perhaps slightly older. Her graying hair was tied neatly into a bun with a few loose strands framing her face. Her kind eyes glanced over yours, and you felt calmness washing over you. “My name is Sam. I’ve been checking up on you for quite some time now.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but your throat was so dry that your voice came out as a rasp. The nurse took notice and immediately filled up a cup of water from a nearby dispenser then brought it over to you.

“Thank you,” you said once you finished drinking.

“You’re welcome, dear,” she responded, taking the empty cup from your hand and setting it to the side. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you answered her after thinking the question over. Aside from that and the pounding headache, you were also confused. You still didn’t know why you were in the hospital.

“It’s the pain medication. The drowsiness is one of its nasty side effects, but it does the job,” she spoke, giving you a gentle smile.

“It’s a good thing I can’t feel anything else right now because my head alone is killing me.”

With a nod, Sam then went on to check your vitals. Judging by her relaxed attitude, everything seemed to be just fine. She jotted down a couple of notes on her clipboard before her attention returned to you. “I’ll let your doctor know that you’re awake, but it’s really a miracle that you’re up right now.”

“Why do you say that?” You asked her curiously. “How long have I been out?”

“Three weeks, dear,” she informed you, much to your surprise. “You got into a pretty bad car crash. Don’t you remember?”

You shook your head slowly, a puzzled expression appearing on your face. “No, I don’t.”

Sam sighed, clicking her pen closed. Her smile suddenly fell, and it worried you. “I’ll fetch Dr. Henderson so that he could do a full evaluation on you.”

“Okay,” you told her as she fluffed the pillows behind your head and smoothed out your blanket. “Are my parents here?”

“Yes, they are,” she nodded her head. “Your father’s waiting right outside while your mother and your partner are downstairs at the canteen. Don’t worry, I’ll let them know that you’re awake. They could all probably use some good news right now.”

Sam’s smile returned, reassuring you one last time before she headed to the door. That’s when you realized what she had just said.

“Wait, excuse me,” you called out, and Sam stopped in her tracks. “I-I don’t have a partner. Not anymore, at least.”

She furrowed her brows as you stared at her quizzically. Maybe, she might have mistaken a family friend for one, but you weren’t sure. You had just broken up with your boyfriend a month ago, but for a good reason. He was an asshole who had made your life a living hell, and it wasn’t until recently did you find the courage to end the relationship. Because of that, you were fairly certain there was no way he would be here along with your parents.

“Sure, you do, honey. I mean, that’s who he introduced himself as,” Sam replied. “He never stops talking about you, and it’s very obvious that he loves you. Ever since you got here, he’s never left your side. You definitely got yourself a keeper.”

“But I don’t… that’s impossible,” you mumbled. Again your mind tried searching through your memories, but doing so only triggered a searing headache, making you groan out in pain.

“Darling, you need to relax,” Sam warned you. “You may be awake, but you’re still healing.”

Once the migraine passed, your eyes welled up in tears. It was frustrating to not know what was going on. It felt as though chaos was swirling inside of your head, and you couldn’t understand why it was happening.

“Shh, honey, it’s okay,” the nurse murmured softly, calming you down. “Do you want me to turn on the tv? Maybe you should watch something while I get the doctor in here. It can help ease your mind up a little.”

“Alright,” you muttered, and Sam plugged in the television, handing you the remote.

She excused herself shortly after as you surfed through the channels available, trying to find a show or a movie to distract yourself for the time being.

Coming across a live weather report, the broadcast had left you baffled. The reporter talked about the temperatures in Los Angeles this week, which was unusual since you were living on the other side of the country. Not to mention, the date shown on the graphic on the bottom of the screen was wrong.

July 11, 2020, it had read.

But wasn’t it the winter of 2015?

---

Keanu had gotten used to the stale taste of cafeteria food though he didn’t have that much of an appetite to begin with. He would usually order the day’s special, eat one or two bites of it before pushing it off to the side. He must have lost ten pounds already from skipping meals these past three weeks.

“Keanu, sweetheart,” your mother Nancy began, noticing that once again, he wasn’t eating. “Y/N needs you to be strong for her when she wakes up.”

Letting out a sigh, his eyes then flickered up to the woman sitting across from him, a slight frown on her lips. She was right, of course, but he just couldn’t help it. Every time he visited the hospital and saw your unconscious body, it was like a piece of him wilted away each day.

Truth be told, Keanu was much worse in the beginning than he was now. He had spent the first several nights sleeping in your room, or at least, he attempted to. It was difficult staying asleep when every night, he was forced to relive the night of your accident. Unfortunately, it would always end up the same way with you losing your life, and Keanu not being there at your side.

The media had caught wind of what had happened and made it much more stressful not only for Keanu but for your family as well. There would always be paparazzi waiting by the entrance of the hospital, ready to bombard him or your parents with invasive questions and take pictures of them. Security had done the best they could to keep them off the premises, and Keanu felt horrible for subjecting your parents to one of the downsides of fame.

But both your mother and father had been understanding, and they didn’t want Keanu to worry more than he needed to. If it weren’t for them, he would have never left the hospital for any reason. They had convinced him to go home each night, reassuring him the best they could that you would be there the next morning.

Keanu listened and did just that. He was able to get some sleep in as the nightmares started to die down. He would ride his motorcycle for hours on end to clear his mind, and it had been meditating. Slowly, he was getting much better dealing with the aftermath. Still, it was only the uncertainty of the situation that continued to perturb him.

“I know,” he whispered, rubbing his eyes. “It’s been hard, you know. For all us, I mean.”

Nancy nodded, setting down her fork on the tray and looking at Keanu sorrowfully. “I know my daughter, and she’s a fighter. I’m sure that she’ll get better, and it’s only a matter of time. But the last thing she would want is for you to get sick because of her. She wouldn’t like it if you stopped taking care of yourself, Keanu.”

“Yeah,” he agreed after pondering for a minute. “She wouldn’t like that.”

“Good,” Nancy smiled as she pushed her tray next to Keanu’s at the edge of the table. “The food here isn’t the best. Let’s go out and buy lunch somewhere else instead, hmm? My treat, and you can’t turn down free lunch.”

“No, ma’am. I can’t,” Keanu chuckled as he stacked the trays before getting out of his seat.

The two of them had reached the exit when your father Peter came running down the hall. His chest heaved heavily as if he had sprinted all the way from the fifth floor to the first.

“Peter, what on earth was that all about?” Nancy asked her husband as Keanu held him steady. “You know, there are elevators in this building.”

“It’s our baby girl. She’s awake,” Peter panted, his eyes filled with so much joy that Keanu could feel it radiating from him. “Y/N’s finally awake.”

---

“Are you sure, Keanu?” Peter questioned him as he stood in the middle of the doorway. “You’re practically family, I can tell the doctor that.”

“It’s okay, go,” Keanu waved him off with a smile before sitting down in one of the plastic chairs right outside of the room.

Dr. Henderson had just finished evaluating you but had asked to speak with your parents first. It seemed a bit of an unusual request, though he didn’t want to overthink it. He was okay with giving Nancy and Peter time with you first. They were your parents, after all.

As he sat there out in the hall, Keanu cracked a smile for the first time in weeks. The last three weeks had been hell for him, and he was ready to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Very soon, he would finally be able to see your open eyes and hear your sweet voice. Keanu was already coming up with what he was going to say once it’s his turn for him to see you, and he wanted the first words for you to hear from him was that he was sorry.

It took a while until Dr. Henderson stepped out of the room, leaving you with your parents. Keanu got up from his seat, a thank you ready to roll off his tongue until he noticed the solemn look on the doctor’s face.

Just before he could ask if something was wrong, Peter appeared from behind him, his hand coming to rest on Keanu’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

“Son, we need to talk,” Peter spoke with a downcast gaze. “It’s about Y/N.”

Keanu eyed your father nervously as he gestured for the two of them to sit. “What is it? Is she okay?”

Peter released a deep breath before shaking his head. “She’s doing fine physically, but mentally, there’s something wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Retrograde amnesia,” Peter stated, glancing at the tile floors beneath his feet. “Dr. Henderson said that she needs to undergo tests to confirm it, but he thinks she’s likely suffering from it.”

“Amnesia?” Keanu’s voice faltered as the word fell from his lips. “What did she forget? The accident?”

“Yes,” he revealed, pausing for a brief second before continuing. “Y/N can’t recall the accident nor anything from the last five years. Not a single memory, Keanu.”

Five years? That meant… No, it couldn’t be.

“What’s the last thing she can remember?”

Peter looked at Keanu regretfully. “She remembers breaking up with her ex Eric and moving back with us. This was way back in—”

“February,” he finished, shutting his eyes as he felt his chest tightened. “That happened in February 2015.”

Keanu was at a loss for words. Here you were now, finally awake after spending weeks in a coma, only to have five years worth of your memories erased. He could only imagine how confused you must be not knowing what had happened. There had been a significant amount of changes in your life within that time frame—moving to LA, getting a new job, meeting Keanu.

The last part hurt him the most. You had forgotten him and all of the memories you had together. Right now, Keanu was nothing but a complete stranger to you, and thinking about it made his heart feel heavy. Of course, he wanted to be there to help, but at the same time, he didn’t want to overwhelm you. What if you didn’t want him around? What if you pushed him away?

Keanu glanced at Peter, the question slightly trembling out of his mouth. “Did the doctor say it was permanent?”

“He doesn’t know. There’s a chance that it could be temporary, and the memories would resurface later on. But, it could also end up being permanent.”

Leaning back against his seat, Keanu ran a hand over his face. The silence which followed gnawed at his insides as nausea churned in the pit of his empty stomach. “I’m a part of those memories she’s lost. She won’t remember the last five years we’ve spent together. Y/N won’t even recognize me if I walk in there.”

“Keanu?”

Nancy calling out his name caused him to glance up. She stood before him with red eyes, cheeks still stained with tears. “Do you want to see Y/N?”

The answer was obvious, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to voice it out loud. “I-I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Nonsense, dear. Perhaps all Y/N needs is to see you, and she’ll remember everything again,” Nancy suggested with fervent hope flashing across her face.

“Maybe,” Peter shrugged, sharing a glance between Keanu and his wife. “It’s up to you, son.”

Keanu didn’t want to be disappointed, but he needed to at least try. He was reminded of the promise he made on the night of the accident, that no matter what, he would never give up on you. Pushing aside his fears, he stood by the foot of your door and opened it before stepping over the threshold.

Instantly, his gaze met yours as you sat up from your bed. Seeing you awake made him feel so relieved, and he had to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall. All he wanted to do was cross the room and gather you into his arms, hoping his touch would bring back the memories you’ve forgotten. But Keanu decided against it, choosing to linger closely by the door instead.

“Y/N?” He spoke your name in a soft tone, waiting for any reaction to come.

A pause. From the hospital bed, you looked at Keanu with merely a blank stare, not even the slightest flicker of recognition showing in your unwavering eyes.

“I’m sorry, but... do I know you?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but the room was silent enough for him to hear your words.

You should know him, but you don’t.

You don’t remember him at all.

Part 3

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @fanficsrusz​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @awessomness​ @meetmeinthematinee​

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x you #reader insert #my fics #rpf