#and our position is equal. so if i ask her if it can be changed from the feminine to the masculine/'gender neutral'. idk how she will react | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mystxmomo · 22 days ago

Note

I love your posts on Vhaeraun! They're really grounded in his character and I appreciate that you went into the reasoning behind his actions while not dismissing that he sometimes does messed up things. I've been insane about drow lore for years now and I'm curious about your thoughts on Eilistraee. She's such an interesting character to me in that while she obviously cares about the drow and seeks their freedom the way she goes about it come off almost naive at times. But at the same time she has a deep melancholy and temper. And she opposes Lolth but her clergy still operates similarly at times with the exclusion of males and almost dogmatic reluctance to accept change. Idk I think her contradictions are interesting and she's not frequently explored beyond a shallow, romanticized lens. Sorry for ranting lol but if you have any thoughts on her I would love to hear them!

Yeeeah. I'm glad you sent this, actually. I have another ask that I'm writing up a longer answer for dealing with Vhaeraun and Eilistraee's relationship, and to get into why I see their relationship like I do I had to sit down and spend the first part of that analyzing her character. So, I'm actually happy that I have the chance to separate the post into parts, both for length and just keeping things concise.

First off, yeah. I think the important thing about DnD gods is that they're as "human" as they are. They're not omnipotent, they're deeply flawed people and characters with motivations and histories that color their perspective on things. I think a more grounded approach to them is "the correct one" (in as much as any interpretation in DND can be a correct one, but my thoughts on that still remain that they're just building blocks for you to do as you'd like with.

Now. This post is going to be equally long. I actually have a lot of thoughts on Eilistraee, but to explore the thoughts that I have on her we need to go into the bigger real world concepts that influence her and the idea's around her. So, I do feel that a few disclaimers going into this before I hit it with our read-more are necessary.

I'm going to format this post a little differently than I did Vhaeruan's. The thing about Vhaeraun's character is that within the books and DnD proper, he's meant to be an evil. Right. So it's not very hard to get people on board with the idea that in their attempts to demonize him, they managed to create a compelling abuse narrative. However. Eilistraee and her church, as you mentioned, often ends up getting seen through this incredibly romanticized lens especially within in the role she plays in drow society. So when her church doesn't have the best portrayal in these books, there's seemingly this community impulse to disregard those portrayals as something lesser or like they hold less narrative weight because they don't play into the better parts of the church.

So I want to start this post by creating a groundwork using things that are strictly from the source books and official magazines, and then building on that to lend weight to the portrayals her and her church is given within the novels. And then I will get into sourcing things like Evermeet, War of the Spider Queen, and Lady Penitent when I talk about Eilistraee and Vhaeraun's relationship.

Secondly, you'll notice I mentioned her church a lot here. Eilistraee is in an interesting position. Unlike Vhaeraun and Lolth (Of who I believe the books are rather explicit about where and how their motivations differ from their churches) Eilistraee really doesn't get as much of that treatment. We're told some things about how she holds herself and what she values, but she's purposefully left as an enigma. You have to make a lot more assumptions about who she is based around the community around her.

Now, I DO think the gods are separate people from their churches, and often times do hold different views to the communities that are devoted to them. My favorite example being Vhaeraun being genuinely far more chill about woman than his church is, and you can see it in the way he has to go "Yes, oh my god, you even need to help the female drow rogues no matter what."

So, I want to explore her church and what is seen as "good" within it in relationship to her, though I do promise to account for the fact that it is not her. I just think that there are some conclusions you can draw about her based on her church.

Finally, same disclaimer I gave in Vhaeraun Analysis is worth giving here. I am about to focus on Eilistraee and her church in a lot of very critical ways. I don't hate Eilistraee, I think a lot of people do use character criticism as an excuse to engage in character hate, so I understand why people get a little defensive about it sometimes. But I think she's genuinely a very fascinating character, and the criticisms I have are part of the reason I'm so interested in her and who she is. I'm an author who's main interest comes from exploring these heavier themes of abuse and trauma and exploring how real world cultural influences show within art.

Basically. This is fun for me, and if it's not fun for you, you don't have to take my analysis as anything more then one persons insane ramblings on the internet. This is a red string board of media analysis. It's also a LOT more subjective and has a lot of my opinions baked into it as a result of what we're going to get into, so. Make of it what you will.

Now. This pre read-more part of the post is already quite long, but as a final note. I'm going to be getting into a lot of heavier topics here. Abuse is obvious given the drow, but I actually want to get into specfically emotionally abusive structures, what cultural catholicism is, and passive sexism (Especially with Gender Elitism) and how these ideas and their existence within our cultural effects her church.

Okay!

So, I will actually start on a more positive note:

I'm not going to be criticizing the nudity or sexuality of her church. I have made mention in the past that I'm of the belief that the drow and the cultures around it, despite often being played rather straight in-universe as horror and cult abusive narratives, were things created on a Doylist level to be very titillating, sexually explicit, and horrifying. I don't think this is a bad thing and I don't think it discredits the weight these characters and stories end up having. And in fact, I think these stories could only be as strong as they are because they were fueled by being as emotionally charged as they are (Sexuality is an emotion.)

I think. And I acknowledge that this one is a very subjective opinion, but my opinion you will have nonetheless. I think, in a time where cultural puritanical-ism is at it's height, it's actually growing to be very important to have casual portrayals of sexuality and nudity, let ALONE nonsexual nudity. I've always been of the opinion that it's fine. Let woman go topless (if that's something you want to explore of course, the beauty of DnD remains if you DON'T want to include it you don't have to. But to deny it as a source of inspiration would feel incorrect.)

So I'm not going to be criticizing the nudity and sexuality of it all when it comes to her church. I think it's fun, I think there are ways you can explore that in a meaningful way, and I think something is being done thematically there that's worth keeping and examining as is given to us.

Secondarily. While there are things I'm going to be critical of with her church, there are things I really, really love about her church. I think the thing that tends to draw people into her isn't all the things I'm about to talk about, but rather the focus on drow as a people with art, and culture, and community. And this is something I really like about her church as well. Having something that puts divine weight on the importance of these things speaks to a lot of people I think, especially given that DnD was created in fuckle America land of the "Continuing to cut more and more from arts and humanities and community everyday." Her religion really is the only of the drow religions that puts this much emphasis on celebrating that.

I like domestic fantasy. I prefer it to hero's journeys actually, but if I start talking about that I'll get off topic.

So yes. I think there is a reason she and her church gets as romanticized as it does. It's built into the text to be romanticized, because the people who originally made it were romanticizing it.

Okay. so with THOSE two things spoken for. Lets get into the nitty gritty.

DnD and it's alignment system, at it's core, has always had something of an issue with the cultural Catholicism of it all. Cultural Catholicism is the idea that when you're raised in a society where the dominant religion is Christian-Catholic, even if you yourself are not Catholic it's likely you'll still pick up idea's of Catholicism within your own morality, and that those ideas will be echoed within the media you consume because as it is the dominant culture it influences what is seen as acceptable. You don't have to be Catholic, or even be raised as Catholic, to end up holding a lot of trauma and shame regarding ideas that are only considered shameful through the lens of Catholicism. As an example, a lot of people are still taught to feel a lot of shame around nudity and sex as a result of living in a society who's dominant religion influences the way conversations around it are handled.

So. To make my point about this, I would like to start by exploring the concept of Sin Eating.

The Silver Haired Knights were a concept introduced in Dragon Magazine #315. Dragon Magazine, if you don't know, if an official supplement material in the age before the internet. Now, it's worth noting. This was 3e-3.5e, which was the start of their attempts to double down on the demonization of all drow. Nonetheless, I think they thought this was a good thing and I still see it talked about today in some communities as a Good Thing:tm:.

Sin Eating is an ability that the Silver Haired Knights contain. I'm going to copy and paste from the wiki rather than Dragon Magazine itself because it summarizes it far better than the Dragon Magazine article does, though the Dragon Magazine article isn't hard to find, I implore you to go read it for yourself to get the full context of the class.

Powerful Silverhair Knights had the ability to "consume sins", to take the full weight of cruelty and suffering inflicted by evil beings' (mostly fey, humanoids, monstrous humanoids, and giants, but especially drow) upon themselves, which gave the Silverhair Knights their nickname: sin eaters. This was a complex and dangerous ritual, taking some minutes, that required the sin eater to maintain uninterrupted physical contact with their subject. The subject creature could be willing or unwilling, usually kept bound in the latter cases, or else unaware of the sin eater's intent if the sin eater chose to disguise it. When fully performed, the target creature felt the weight of all their sins on their conscience, understanding firsthand the errors of their ways. In cases of success, the target creatures were freed from their evil, regretted their past actions, and chose a different path from evil, often taking after the Knight, while the sins themselves were absorbed into the sin eater's soul and destroyed in the light of their purity and faith. In cases of failure, the sin eaters themselves were overcome by the absorbed sins; filled with despair, grief, rage, drained of their vitality, and fell into a coma for a full day. This could potentially kill the sin eater, but they would rise again as a ghost, with the same evil ways as the one they had tried to redeem. A sin eater could only attempt this risky ritual once a week, and only perform it on an individual sinner once a year.

I think this is, a little gross actually! To view this as a moral positive you have to believe in four things.

One, that sin and the weight of it is real on a metaphysical level (I do not.) Two, that redemption is earned strictly with forgiveness (I do not), Three, that people who are "pure" are noble by nature of being pure (I do not) and Four, that doing things without peoples consent to make them a "Better Person" is an inherent moral good, and anything done in the name of making someone live a "more ethical lifestyle" is an equal inherent good (Which I REALLY do not believe in. What is "good." Why is "good." How are you so sure your idea of good is so correct that it is work inflicting violence upon another person over, and in this context, changing the core of who they are over.)

The modern idea of purity, sin, and redemption, all come from Christianity. It is the idea that you need to work to be forgiven. It puts moral weight on the guilt and discomfort people feel for not only their past actions, but the past actions of the community around them. That you need to save others from their sin and from "evil."

To DnD, Good and Evil have an Aesthetic. You can be a good person that does violent things so long as it's for "good" reasons, and you can be an evil person that does good things however those good things are still considered evil because you yourself are bad. It's this idea of evil not as this very nuanced ethical dilemma, but instead as something that can be "Removed" from someone. I do not believe in this. I don't believe in the concept of sin (In that I don't believe in the concept of spiritual transgression or the idea of it as a corruptive influence) I don't believe in the concept of redemption (On a religious level of being absolved of it). I believe in people and their actions and how they respond to their circumstance, and I believe in people choosing to do better than they did yesterday. And this is one of the big flaws of Eilistraee's church and world view to me. Because to believe in Eilistraee's Churches Dogma, you have to accept the idea that drow need to work to be accepted. That it is their moral responsibility to show other people that they deserve their place in the world. And I don't believe that.

Although her arrow went astray because of Araushnee's treachery, Eilistraee chose banishment from Arvandor (and the Seldarine) along with her mother and brother, foreseeing a time when she would be needed to balance their evil. On Toril, the Dark Maiden strove for centuries against the hatred of Vhaeraun and his corrupting influence on the Ilythiiri (southern, darkskinned elves).

We don't know how much of Eilistraee's churches dogma's are her own. But based around how she talks about and views the drow under her brother and her mother (Cited above), I am willing to make the assumption that she sincerely does believe they need to earn their place in the world. And that's... It's kind of a depressing world view, isn't it? No community needs to earn acceptance and approval of others. To be allowed to exist should be enough.

...

Not unlike how I think a lot of Vhaeraun fans want to kind of swerve around the drow racism of it all, I think a lot of interpretations of Eilistraee really don't want to acknowledge the sexism of it all. But not unlike how I think the racism of Vhaeraun is deeply important to understanding how he see's the world, Eilistraee's churches specific brand of sexism and how it is an echo of Lolth's is DEEPLY important to understanding her and the culture around her.

In a way, I think ignoring the sexism of her church is worse..? Because often times, I'm met with the impression that it's not that we're CHOOSING not to include it, it's that we're not aware that it is sexism, right? There are a lot of people who, because of the romanticized idea they have of her (and because, admittedly of my own belief, of what is normalized in our culture and dominant religions) just don't view her sexism as a sexism, or believe her churches sexism to be a less severe form of it. I think both in the real world and in the in-character context of the text, the passive sexism of Eilistraee's church tends to get downplayed because it exists in conversation with the more explicit and violent idea's of Lolth's church.

Let's talk about Gender Elitism. You're almost definitely familiar with the concept of it, but. Term needs described nonetheless.

Gender Elitism is the idea that some genders are inherently superior to others. That they are, by nature of the existence of being that gender, inherently more valuable, more knowledgeable, more deserving of privilege and authority. There is no way to build a truly inclusive community with any kind Gender elitism as the framework. The idea that woman are inherently more valuable or more knowledgeable or more spiritually attuned is in itself a sexist ideology, and in the real world is often a reflection of sexist ideas of the inherent spirituality of womanhood.

And well.

All clergy of Eilistraee must be female, but they may be of any intelligent race.

I don't think people are often willing to meet the text where it's at. in the books, there's very clearly a self aware inversion of patriarchy -> matriarchy and a destruction of passive patriarchy through the lens of fantasy sexism.

However. Unlike the cultural Catholicism of DND and it's surrounding idea's of good and evil, I actually don't mind it's inclusion within the text. The written prose with DND (in recent years) are generally actually pretty self-aware of this flaw of the church, and a lot of authors purposefully play into the themes of it. And it makes sense to have it be included within the world building given what what this religion is in response to with Lolth's being the dominant religion of society. Eilistraee's church tends to reach out and recruit fallen nobility, and these are woman who are going to keep the views and want to keep holding the power that they do within their communities.

When you look at the kind of sexism Eilistraee's church is guilty of when in contrast with Lolth's, it's more palatable it's something I think men and well meaning woman alike raised in a lolth society would see as better. These are a group of people who already grew up believing woman to be born intrinsically more important by nature of that birth-rite. I don't think it's bad writing to have the conclusion that the Good church comes to be "Because we're not beating and killing these men, we have defeated sexism," while not addressing the core of where that mentality came from, and as a result still replicating a lot of exclusion and dismissing the importance of the lives of the men around them. Because that's a reflection of real life. I think even in real life, people struggle to sympathize with men and especially men who are victims of abuse, and it's something that blinds them to how they're engaging with this media.

Instead, my argument is that it's bad media analysis to ignore thats whats happening in an attempt to stick to this romanticized idea of the church.

So. That's the two big things with Eilistraee's Church. That's the lead-up to exploring Eilistraee as a character. But what does all of this say about her. How do we explore Eilistraee as a person as a result of all of this. Because, as I mentioned, the gods are separate from their church. A lot of gods do hold different values to their churches and different idea's then what their churches end up doing.

So let's dial this back a little bit and actually examine Eilistraee as a person. I'm going to post how she's described, and then I'm going to go into the longest point I want to make about her.

Eilistraee is a melancholy, moody drow female, a lover of beau- ty and peace. The evil of most drow banks a burning anger within her, and when her faithful are harmed, that anger is apt to spill out into wild action. It is not her way to act openly, but she often aids creatures she favors (whether they worship her or not) in small, immediately practical ways. Eilistraee is happi- est when she looks on bards singing or composing, craftsmen at work, lovers, or acts of kindness.

Eilistraee (pronounced “eel-ISS-trayee”) is a goddess of song and beauty, worshipped through song and dance— preferably in the surface world, under the stars of a moonlit night. Eilistraee aids her faithful in hunting and swordcraft, and worship of her is usually accompanied by feasting. Eilis¬ traee has worshippers of human, elven, and in particular half-elven stock (partic¬ ularly around Silvery moon), and looks kindly upon the Harpers. She is usually seen only from afar, but her song (of unearthly beauty, driving many to tears) is heard whenever she appears. Roleplaying Notes: Eilistraee is a melan¬ choly, moody drow female, a lover of beauty and peace. The evil of most drow banks a burning anger within her, and when her faithful are harmed, that anger is apt to spill out into wild action. It is not her way to act openly, but she often aids creatures she favors (whether they wor¬ ship her or not) in small, immediately practical ways. Eilistraee is happiest when she looks on bards singing or composing, crafts¬ men at work, lovers, or acts of kindness.

....

It is of my opinion that, when you look at the Eilistrae-Vhaeraun Dynamic and how they were treated by Lolth and Corellon, you're looking at a classic Golden Child/Scrape Goat dynamic. This is important to mention here because I do think that's important context within how Eilistraee (the person) see's and understands the world, and where her mind is at when it comes to the perception of her sense of self.

To VASTLY oversimplify about how emotionally abusive family structures work by a lot, when you look at emotionally abusive families with siblings, you tend to find a pattern where one child ends up getting the bulk of the favoritism and affection (The golden child), while the other takes the bulk of the abuse and tends to take a of blame and is seen as being deserving of the abuse (The scrapegoat.) I'll get a little bit more into the specifics of what that means for their relationship in a later post.

Now. Calling her the Golden Child, but I don't think being the Golden Child is strictly a good thing. In a lot of ways, I think a lot of golden children end up very emotionally stilted, and I think you kind of see that in Eilistraee. She HAS to be the perfect one. And she's had this expectation to be The Good One placed on her shoulders since she was young. Golden Children are often blinded to the abuse their siblings face because they themselves are not subjected to the same kind of abuse.

I think you're right in that despite everything, I would consider her defining trait her naivete. And I think the issue with trying to get into that is that people have a very specific idea of what being naive is. Like I think a lot of people associate naivete with people who are very childish and hold themselves with a lot of immaturity, and I don't think that's true. I think Eilistraee holds herself with a lot of dignity and comes across as mature and gentle and soft spoken, and you feel the weight of her presence in a way that you don't realize until she's left.

Naivete is just a lack of wisdom, a lack of having experienced the thing first hand. Eilistraee grew up very sheltered. She was shielded from the worst of her mothers abuse as a result of being her fathers favorite. Lolth doesn't give her the same attention she gives Vhaeraun (Which is good, largely, considering what her attention entails), she disregards Eilistraee as foolish and cowardly and weak, so she doesn't bother at all. That she was so sheltered is the source of both her empathy and her blindness. She knows the sight of abuse, but I don't think she's experienced abuse to the same extent her brother has, let alone the people in her church have. So she doesn't understand it to the same degree.

Now. The other thing about Eilistraee is that I don't actually think she's as open as she implies she is. She's always come across to me as someone who's very guarded. On one hand, she's walking around nude and supposedly that's representative of the vulnerability she has. But on the other hand, she doesn't reveal a lot, does she? She doesn't change. While Eilistraee is explicitly involved in her followers lives in a way that a lot of non-drow gods aren't, she's involved in a very passive way. She listens to them. Maybe she'll bless them with a dance. She'll send signs of her pleasure and displeasure, and she'll help them in immediate, practical ways.

But do any of her followers know her? Do WE know her? We know Vhaeraun. We know his personality. But what we're given of Eilistraee is what she likes and how she feels. It points to this very careful presence she makes of herself.

And that's why exploring the flaws of her church is so important. She wants to give her followers freewill, she wants to be the "good" one that doesn't influence them and lets them make their own choices. But... I'm going to steal a quote from @pansythoughts who I ran my thoughts about this by before typing it up, and I think that they articulated this really well.

"[...] She’s worshipped and revered and symbolic but because she didn’t involve herself in the running of things people mistook that as she shouldn’t be involved or shouldnt be involved (“don’t concern our lady with such trivial things, she shouldn’t be bothered, it makes her so sad”) that that for a long time enabled a lot of abuse to run rampant under eilistraee’s nose. By becoming impersonal she’s removed her real thoughts from her church in the name of being impartial. But it’s not actually helping [...]"

So Eilistraee hits this weird note of... She seems to think that being impersonal is what makes her good, but in being impersonal, she enabled the culture in her church to get as bad as it did. It's the intent over action mentality. It's the separation of herself from her people.

....

Now. I also want establish. I don't think Eilistraee holds the same views as her church with it comes to how a lot of men are treated. All text points to the fact she loves men as much as she does woman, just as she does any other race (Though I said I wouldn't quote it too much, her prioritizing woman to dismantle her brothers power in evermeet should at least get a passing mention, I put that in the same spot as I put Vhaeraun trying to kill her in that it feels like she was doing that as an uncomfortable means to an end. She sincerely see's him an evil, and if that is what she had to do to get him out of power then so be it. And then it spiraled)

In rare circumstances, males who worship Eilistraee-or beings without any priest powers who work to further Eilistraee's aims and need her visible blessing and support (or just some light)- will temporarily manifest moonfire (see Eitistroee's moonfire below). Such manifestations are at the will of the goddess; the lucky recipient has no control over the duration, intensity, and location of the radiance

Eilistraee to me feels like someone deeply rooted in idealism, and romanticism, and fantasy. She loves the arts. She loves dance, and music, and romance and love of all kinds. She loves the fantasy of lovers.

And this goes over to her wider views. She likes the fantasy of what she thinks good drow can be, and I think she lives in that fantasy and denies the lived reality of what a lot of her people have been through, and the biases they hold as a result of what they've been through.

But, she's not comfortable with what drow are now, because what drow are now are what her mother and her brother made of them. And she views both as evil, and the same kind of even. She explicitly views them as people that are fallen and broken, because they're not good.

Only in recent centuries has Eilistraee's faith regained a small amount of prominence in Faerun, as the Dark Maiden seeks to lead the fallen drow back to the long-forsaken light.

And they're not good and they can't be good, because there is an aesthetic to good for DnD and thus there is an aesthetic to good for her. And inevitably, when theres an Aesthetic to good, when you only view good through a certain framework and you're only able to understand good through the lens of people that fulfill a certain amount of requirements, there are going to be those who are left behind not because they're not good, but because they can't meet that aesthetic. They can't change, or don't want to. And there is going to be abuse that slips through the cracks because the good goes unquestioned.

Pulling another quote from pansythoughts

[...] And to get metatextual, I think that’s why a lot of people miss the implied problems of her church too, besides the insidious nature of bio-essentialism. The narrative context of the drow is horror. It’s meant to be antagonistic and horrifying to players of the game. So of course the thing from that culture rejecting that culture completely looks “good”

To accept that her church needs to change is to accept that maybe, she wasn't good.

Because. If she's not the good one, then what is she...?

...

Despite you mentioning them, I also didn't really touch on her temper and melancholy all that much here. I do actually think that's like. A defining part of her character.

I think it's deeply telling that one of the few times she's mentioned as manifesting as an avatar is explicitly in defense of her people. She doesn't know how to approach them to celebrate with them ("The Dark Maiden seldom takes a direct hand in the affairs of mortals, but she sometimes appears in the midst of a dance in her honor, leaping amid the flames of the feast unharmed") And she's heard of seen in the distance more then she's directly engaging ("Most worshipers see Eilistraee only from afar, perched on a hillock or battlement, silver hair streaming out behind her. She appears to show her favor or blessing and often rallies or heartens creatures by causing a high, far-off hunting horn call to beheard.")

But she WILL appear to defend her worshipers. And she IS deeply concerned with defending those coming out of the underdark.

I don't know. I don't have canon proof of this one, but I do think that Eilistraee is a deeply lonely person. Despite having friends in other pantheons such as Mystra, she feels isolated in the image she has to uphold. She can't connect with her followers, she's left with this view that most of her family is evil, or has rejected her for leaving. Of course she carries herself with grief. Of course she doesn't know how to be anything other than "The good one."

#Eilistraee #Character Analysis #I'm also not touching the change dance in this post though I think its something I should one day #Mostly because I think there are people that could better articulate. The neurosis behind it

66 notes · View notes

prettyboykatsuki · 2 months ago

Text

NEXILIS—PREVIEW WC : 1.1k SYNOPSIS : A preview from the first chapter, coming August 26th.

Look.” You resign yourself, sighing. “I have no interest in leaving home. Truly at all. Who will take care of the farm if I leave? If you really intend to marry me and take me as your wife, make me an offer I can’t refuse.”

“I suppose things like riches and jewels bear no interest you,” The Crown Prince says. You snort.

“No, not particularly.”

Sir Midoriya cuts in. “You would have access to the royal armory. You also have equal access to His Highness' resources. If there is anything you wish to recover or provide it’s yours.”

This piques your interest. Aizawa scoffs from beside you but you ignore him.

A thought comes to you suddenly, overcome with overwhelming grief. You can feel the change in the air, in yourself - your heart feeling heavy. A pit forms in your stomach.

“I have uh,” You clear your throat so you don’t show weakness. “I’ve a brother. A different one. He was my blood brother. He…he was not executed alongside my mother and father. But we did not manage to leave together. I have no idea if he’s even alive, but,” You look at them with clarity. “I want to look for him. Or just get.. Confirmation of his death. Something.”

Midoriya looks at you with an understanding smile. “It’s no trouble. We found you. If there is record of your brother anywhere, we will be able to find him with your help - I’m sure of it.”

“Alright, then.” You pull back a little, scratching your head. “The swordsmanship. I want to be able to test my skills.” You think for a bit, before adding “I also want property that I can keep under my name in the Southern Province.”

“How good of a swordsman are you?” The Crown Prince asks. Aizawa interjects.

“She has bested me before on her own, and without magic.”

The Crown Prince raises his eyebrows at that. “If you wish to wield the sword and fight alongside me, then becoming my imperial knight is may be possible.”

“Is Sir Midoriya not your imperial knight?”

“No, my lady. Captain of Imperial Special Forces means I’m responsible for training them and taking on certain…kinds of missions. The Crown Prince has several rotating guards but finding someone trustworthy to take on the long-term position is tough,”

“We would have to test your skills first, and your duties as my wife take priority,” The Crown Prince says plainly. “But well, it seems to fit your personality better than being a noble lady.”

“You’ve insulted my womanhood twice today alone.”

He raises a brow at you. “I wasn’t aware you could feel insulted about something true.”

You scowl at him, considering the options. “Alright, then. Beats being bored. And it’ll make handle politics easier if I’m able to sit in on meetings directly to some extent.”

The Crown Prince looks surprised again. “I hadn’t considered that.”

You snort. “You come here to ask a strange woman you barely know to be your wife, but did not think of what she would actually have to do in the imperial palace. You must need my allyship more than I thought.”

The Crown Prince bristles at your words but ultimately does not reply back to them. His irritation about being teased is amusing. You laugh for the first time then.

“Don’t be so stiff, Crown Prince. We will be married soon, won’t we?” You joke, laughing to yourself again. “If you can’t handle basic wifely nagging our marriage will sooner fall apart than the empire.”

“Are you implying you are going to nag me?”

“Isn’t that a given?”

Sir Midoriya laughs again and Aizawa makes an exasperated face. “Please watch how you speak to the Crown Prince,”

“Stiff.” You reply back. You take a long breath. “I want to make regular visits back here, as well. And to hire some trained farmhands before then. But if you can fulfill all of my requests, then sure - I’ll help you.”

“That is excellent news, my lady.”

“I must ask though, Crown Prince. What will you do if you find an actual wife?”

He smirks. “That will never happen. I’ve not any interest.”

“Fine then. What will happen if I find an actual husband?”

“Also unlikely,” He starts with, making you twitch. “If you wish to file for divorce it will only be after we’ve stabilized and taken the crown,” He shrugs. “I’ll permit you to see your lover as long as it stays private, though.”

You snort. “How kind of you.”

Aizawa takes a long, resigned sigh next to you. He rubs his jaw, deep in thought before groaning a little. The room feels lighter than it did at the start of the gathering, and that relieves you.

“You’ve made this decision rather quickly.” Aizawa says, ignoring both parties adjacent to you. “Don’t you wish to think about it more?”

“No. When have you known me to do things like that?” You reply. His distress grows. A hand goes onto your shoulder, gripping it firmly.

“You will no doubt suffer greatly. It will be lonely and perilous. There is no reason for you to go.”

You stare at him as he says this, suddenly becoming aware of the way time has passed. You’ve lived alongside him for ten years, and he’s aged, though he is not exactly old. It’s uncommon for him to express such great concern for something you’ve chosen to do. The last time you’ve seen him make this face was when he came upon you ten years ago.

“I wish to find my brother and,” You affirm, and then add despite your embarrassment - lighthearted tone covering sincerity. “Well, I might as well contribute something other then wheat to the empire you seem to love so much,”

Shock flits over his expression before melting into absent fondness.

He sighs, putting a hand on your head and rubbing your head hard. You make a noise of protest. “Troublesome as ever, aren’t you girl.”

“Yes,” You say, rubbing the spot he petted aggressively “You are quite fond of problem children.”

Aizawa laughs for the first time in the entire conversation. The sincerity in his gaze makes your cheeks flush. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“I’m very happy you’ve come to our aid, my lady. I am honored to serve you.” Sir Midoriya says. You look at him from across the table, and he’s positively beaming. A ghost of a smile crosses your features.

“We’ll see how long it takes me to regret it,” You reply, though your words are light. You turn your attention to the Crown Prince. “Your Highness, I must ask - when exactly are you hoping to marry me?"

Silence falls. The Crown Prince and Sir Midoriya share a long look.

“Well, truthfully, my lady -“

“We were hoping you would return with us to the imperial palace. As in, I’d like to wed you as soon as possible.”

#FROM nexilis;#todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #writing tag #where small;#AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

61 notes · View notes

drgnmnts · 11 months ago

Text

knuckles bruised (like violets) │ jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!OC

Title: knuckles bruised (like violets)

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!OC (Daenys Targaryen, daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Alicent Hightower)

Summary: There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin, especially for those caught in between, longing only for peace as they're met with fire and blood.

_______________________________________________

Chapter 3 - Dragonstone

Word count: 3k

When Daenys opened her eyes again, she found herself back in bed. From the light beginning to filter through the window, she assumed it was already dawn. Glancing around the room, she noticed her mother sitting beside her, eyes fixed on Daenys’ hand as it rested on hers. Ser Criston stood guard by the door and was the first to notice she had awakened.

“There she is, Your Grace,” he notified Alicent. The queen looked up immediately, relief washing over her features.

“Oh, thank the Gods,” she whispered, placing her palm on her daughter’s forehead to check for a temperature. Daenys watched her, feeling a bit confused.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You fainted. From the anguish, the maester said,” Alicent informed, her lips a tight line.

“A dragonrider since you were nine, and I have to be scooping you off the floor like a damsel in distress,” quipped Ser Criston, making Daenys chuckle. The queen didn’t react.

The memory of the previous hours made Daenys’ smile fade. She couldn’t remember much, but the important bits were impossible to gloss over: Aemond had lost an eye at the hands of Lucerys Velaryon, whose brother was now her betrothed. A tight knot in her throat made her believe she might choke, but Daenys was able to speak anyway.

“What Father and Grandsire said. Do I really have to…?”

“Yes, sweetling,” Alicent confirmed, eyes full of sorrow.

At her mother’s answer, tears welled up in Daenys’ eyes, and when she spoke again she sounded half her age. “But I don’t want to.”

Alicent didn’t respond. Instead, she just held her daughter’s hand again, unable to meet her gaze.

“Is it— is it something I’ve done, is that it? Is Father cross with me?” Daenys asked, anxiety starting to bubble up in her chest again.

“Your father isn’t punishing you, Daenys…” Alicent assured, visibly tired. She had probably spent the whole night without any sleep.

“Then isn’t there anything you can do?” Daenys questioned, her voice high-pitched as she tried to speak between whimpers. “I know I misbehave sometimes, but I can change, Mother. I— I’ll marry Aemond, no one will want him without the eye but I would, I can be a good wife. And I’ll ride Silverwing less if you want, and I’ll study more. I’ll be good, I— I can be good.”

Alicent’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. She felt powerless, unable to calm her daughter since there truly was nothing she could do to change Daenys’ destiny. She recalled feeling equally vulnerable many years ago, in her youth, as her father commanded her to marry the king, to give him children, only to terrorize her with their impending deaths right before leaving her alone in a place where she did not have any friends; not anymore, at least.

Everywhere in the world they hurt little girls.

The queen rubbed her forehead, perhaps in an attempt to appease a migraine that was beginning to spread. When she looked up again, her eyes showed no sign of tenderness, only determination. As she spoke, Otto Hightower’s words came out of her mouth.

“I suppose you’re old enough to learn about sacrifice, what it really means; sometimes we must do things we dislike, especially women in our position. Do you think your sister wants to marry Aegon? Do you think I—” she cut herself, but Daenys knew exactly what she had meant to say. “When Rhaenyra sits the Iron Throne, your brother Aegon’s very existence will be a challenge to her position. This means he could be put to the sword, as could Aemond,” she explained. Daenys had to make an effort to hold in a sob. “This betrothal… It may not seem like it now, but in the future, when you’re older, it could mean the difference between life and death for this family. When a man loves his wife, he… he would be willing to spare his enemies if it saves her from heartbreak. Jacaerys is young now, but he won’t stay a boy forever, and neither will you.” Alicent put a hand on her daughter’s cheek, but this time it didn’t comfort Daenys. Instead, she felt even more entrapped by her family’s scheming. “If you do your duty well, if you manage to make him love you, then… no one would have to die.”

Responsibility fell on Daenys like a stone.

In her younger years, she had never even imagined herself marrying someone that wasn’t Aemond. As the king’s third daughter, not much was expected of her in terms of alliances with other Great Houses, as she offered little value in that regard. Now, however, it seemed that she had become her family’s strongest asset to secure peace between the two factions beginning to form.

“I don’t want Aegon to die,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“I know, my love,” Alicent replied with a sad smile that reflected the look in her eyes.

Daenys swallowed. “You say I must make him love me, but… what if I never love him?”

The queen took a deep breath as she raised from the chair. Bending over her daughter’s body, she kissed the girl’s forehead.

“Then you will love the children he gives you, and that shall be enough.”

______________________________________________

Watching her family sail away across the bay caused Daenys a kind of pain she had never experienced before. After trying to keep a stiff lip as she said goodbye to her siblings and other members of the royal court, it was in the solitude of the lookout that she finally allowed herself to cry for her family. At the foot of the crag, Silverwing wailed as she watched the other dragons return home.

“I figured I would find you here.”

Daenys tensed immediately, not needing to turn around. She knew who it was.

“You were very brave, you know?” Rhaenyra said, finding a place next to her sister but keeping her distance. “Goodbyes are always painful.”

Daenys couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken to Rhaenyra. Their relationship had always been strained, despite living in the same castle. Whenever Daenys showed any interest in getting close to her half-sister, her mother was quick to nip it in the bud. Over time, this led to Daenys feeling nervous whenever she found herself in Rhaenyra's presence, as if something horrible might happen as a result of a simple conversation.

“Will I be allowed to ride my dragon?” the girl asked, eyes still fixed on the ship as it got further and further.

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

“I might try to escape,” she replied simply. A small smile tugged at Rhaenyra’s lips, but Daenys didn’t see it.

“You’re not a prisoner, Daenys. You can visit your family as much as you’d like,” the woman explained.

This new information perked Daenys’ interest, her eyes finally meeting Rhaenyra’s.

“Then why must I go with you now? Why can’t I stay with my family until it’s time?” she asked, and it angered her that she could already feel her eyes welling up with tears again.

Rhaenyra breathed through her nose, trying to find the right words.

“I suggested to Father that it would be better for the two of you to become friends before you are to wed. I wouldn’t want my son to marry a stranger.”

Daenys’ gaze turned back to the horizon; she couldn’t see the ship anymore. The girl held back her tears.

As she bitterly accepted the fact that her family was truly gone, Alicent’s words resonated in her head: This betrothal could mean the difference between life and death for this family. When she looked back up at Rhaenyra, she wondered if the woman in front of her would be capable of putting her brothers to the sword. The kindness in her eyes made it difficult to fathom, leaving Daenys to ponder whether it was truthful, or just an act.

“I’m upset about Luke hurting Aemond. It was a horrible thing to do,” Daenys blurted out after a moment of silence.

Rhaenyra cast her gaze downward, as if ashamed.

“I know. It was… a confrontation that should have never happened. Both parties made mistakes last night,” she said. It bothered Daenys that Rhaenyra would compare a paternity rumor with losing an eye, but she understood what it would mean for her claim if the realm knew her sons were no true Velaryons. “But you need to make an effort and leave it in the past, or else you’ll spend the rest of your life reliving what happened.”

This betrothal could mean the difference between life and death for this family.

Daenys nodded. “I will try.”

Rhaenyra smiled sadly at her sister, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, her thumb rubbing softly at it.

“This time together will help both of you, you’ll see,” she assured. “It is a great opportunity to get to know each other. You might find you have more in common than you think.”

“Doesn’t he hate me?” Daenys asked. “I haven’t always been kind.”

Rhaenyra smiled at the girl’s question. She knew something Daenys didn’t.

“He doesn’t,” she simply replied.

_______________________________________________

Days turned into weeks after their arrival at Dragonstone—a place Daenys had visited hundreds of times on dragonback, but never with the intention of staying. She was given her own room, near Rhaena’s, as it had been decided that Baela would stay at Driftmark after the tragic death of Ser Laenor, the last living child of Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys.

Rhaenyra and Daemon’s wedding had been a strange affair. The speed with which it had taken place, only a day after Laenor’s death, left Daenys with a feeling of uneasiness, wondering how it was possible to move on so quickly from such a tragedy.

Despite her initial efforts to please and fit in, she found it increasingly difficult to adapt to her new life. Each morning presented a bigger challenge than the last, until Daenys reached the point where she couldn't even leave her bed, sometimes for the entire day. She had completely lost her appetite, and once overheard the maester telling Rhaenyra that she might get sick if she continued this way. She had promised her half-sister that she wasn’t doing it on purpose and that tomorrow she would try again, but every time tomorrow came, Daenys was unable to keep her promise.

At night, she dreamed of her mother’s hands stroking her hair, of Helaena’s warmth next to her when they shared the bed during cold nights, Aemond’s stories that he seemed to never run out of, and even Aegon’s unfunny jokes that always made her roll her eyes.

That night, however, something was stopping Daenys from finding sleep: she could hear Silverwing’s song, calling for her rider to fly with her again. The girl hadn’t visited her dragon in weeks, something unprecedented since they had bonded two years before, which contributed to her feeling guilty and miserable in equal measure.

Unwilling to continue tossing and turning, she decided to finally leave her bed in search of a solution, hoping that the cover of night would spare her from encountering anyone.

The corridors of the Dragonstone castle were dark and sinuous like a dragon’s throat, and the lack of windows in the impenetrable fort made Daenys feel like she was being swallowed as she made her way downstairs to the kitchens. There, she found two kitchen maids: one old and gray, the other younger, with a pointy nose and wondering eyes that pierced hers as soon as she crossed the threshold. Daenys froze like a deer sensing a predator.

“I… Can I have some warm milk? I can’t find sleep,” she requested.

“Of course, Princess, but you shouldn’t come down here; it’s not a place for a girl of your station,” the younger one said, as the older woman poured milk into a pot over the hearth.

“It’s no bother,” she began to say, but was quickly cut off by the older woman.

“We must insist, Your Grace,” she said. “If Princess Rhaenyra finds out you’ve been here…”

“She won’t find out, because I will say nothing of it, and I would assume neither will you,” Daenys stated, the dim light in the room helping hide the pink of her cheeks for speaking so boldly. Taking a step forward, she propped herself on a wooden stool, her girlish legs dangling back and forth.

After sharing a look, the women provided what Daenys had requested: a glass of warm milk with honey that would put her to sleep right away. They watched her as she drank, perhaps wary of the young princess not liking the beverage, and smiled with relief when she thanked them for it.

She was making her way back to her chambers, already drowsy as the warmth of the milk soothed the tightness of her chest, when she heard voices coming from what she knew were Jacaerys’ quarters. The door was ajar and, as she got closer, curiosity getting the best of her, she identified the second voice as Rhaenyra’s.

“—I just thought it would be different,” Jace was saying, distress tinting his voice.

“I know, my love. I did warn you not to get your hopes up too high, imagine how you would feel if this had happened the other way around. I am sure you would also feel quite miserable in King’s Landing without your brothers, or without me.”

Afer a moment of silence in which Daenys feared she had been caught, Jace asked, “Do you think she’ll ever stop hating me?”

“I don’t think she hates you, Jace. She’s just scared, and sad, and confused… but hate is too big of a word.”

“But you heard what Maester Gerardys said. If she continues like this, she might die. And it would be my fault,” he stated. He sounded on the verge of tears, and guilt settled on Daenys like a kick in the gut.

“He did not say such a thing, dear, you’re exaggerating,” his mother refuted, trying to calm him. “What the maester said was that she might get sick, which is true, but I would never allow the situation to get to that point. If she cannot find the strength to get better, I will send her back to King’s Landing.”

Daenys’ heartbeat quickened when she heard that, but Jace’s words didn’t even let a smile form on her face.

“You cannot,” he blurted out immediately. “Please, Mother, you promised. You’ve seen the way they treat her. They either ignore her, or punish her for every single thing her siblings do.”

“I know, my love, but it is not your duty to save her. Not for now, at least…”, the woman said. “Daenys is a tough girl, Jace.”

“But she doesn’t need to be tough here. No one would mistreat her if she would only— if she would only let us—”

“I know, sweet boy,” said Rhaenyra.

Daenys felt a strange surge of defensiveness at the mention of her family, but a little voice inside her head—her rational side, perhaps—told her that, deep down, she knew Jace was right. Despite how hard she tried to make it seem like she did not care when her family mistreated her, she did. She cared deeply and suffered for it, and the fact that Jace seemed so genuinely upset about it was as confusing as it was endearing.

When Jace spoke again, his voice sounded muffled, as if he was now in his mother’s arms. Daenys wondered what it would feel like to be hugged by Rhaenyra.

“She said sorry for Ser Harwin. At Lady Laena’s funeral.”

A beat.

“That was a very kind thing to do,” Rhaenyra said. “She wouldn’t have said it if she hated you, would she?”

“No,” Jace said. “I suppose not.”

_______________________________________________

Daenys saw genuine delight spread all over her handmaiden’s features when she came into her chamber the next morning to find her already up and ready for a much needed bath.

When she entered the dining hall everyone was already there, ready to break their fast. Her cheeks lit up in shades of pink as they welcomed her, the sincerity in their cheerful comments warming Daenys’ heart.

“What an honor it is that you’ve finally deemed us worthy of your company, Princess,” said Daemon, kindly pulling Daenys’ chair for her to sit on. Another might have found the comment as an ill willed one, but Daenys knew that was Daemon’s way of expressing affection while keeping his facade.

“Leave her be, husband,” warned Rhaenyra, her tone relaxed. With a kind smile, she put her hand on her half-sister’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, sweetling.”

Jace smiled at her and, to her own surprise, Daenys smiled back.

The breakfast went by smoothly, and Daenys ate her weight in duck eggs, blood pudding, bread with butter and honey, and the most delicious blackberry cakes she had ever tasted. She even licked her fingers when she finished, and the sight made Luke laugh so hard that the milk he was drinking came out of his nose.

After they all had finished, Daenys excused herself from the table.

“I would like to ride my dragon, if you don’t mind, Princess,” she told Rhaenyra. “I will stay close. Won’t fly further than Massey’s Hook, I promise.”

Rhaenyra smiled. “You don’t need my permission, sweetling.”

Gathering all the bravery she thought she possessed, Daenys asked for something else.

“Can Jace come?”

Rhaenyra raised her brows slightly, clearly surprised at the girl’s sudden change of attitude.

“Mother doesn’t let me ride Vermax that far…” said Jace, embarrassment turning his cheeks a bright red.

After a glance at Daemon, Rhaenyra breathed through her nose.

“Well, perhaps an exception can be made on a day such as today,” she said.

Jace’s face brightened up immediately, and he shot up from his chair to join Daenys. Luke protested as the pair left the hall, whining as he demanded the same exception be made with him as well, but Rhaena managed to convince him that archery training was equally as exciting.

As she watched the children go, Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief.

_______________________________________________

Across the bay, in a dimly lit room within the Red Keep, Princess Helaena muttered to herself.

“The tears of a dragon cannot extinguish the flame destined to set the world ablaze.”

_______________________________________________

Aaaaaand we've reached the end of childhood! The next chapter will take place after the 6-year time jump, aka, the kids will all be as old as they are right now in the show, more or less.

I hope this was a good enough introduction to the different dynamics between Daenys and the other characters!

If you liked this, let me know in any way! :)

Series Taglist: @void21, @burningwitchobject, @hellish-idiot

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x oc #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd #knuckles bruised (like violets)

259 notes · View notes

henrycangelbaby · 8 months ago

Text

In which: “It's not that the amount of love I had changed, but I feel so proud about it now, like that I want to shout from the rooftops and tell everyone of my loved ones how much I love my wife, MY wife, ya know?”

An interview gives unique insight into Pedro Pascal and his vast amount of love for his wife

I make my way through meeting the cast of HBO's unexpected hit “The Last Of Us” rather easily.

Bella Ramsey lives in a far nicer apartment in London than anything I would have been able to afford at the same age. Despite their fame and talent, they remain settled and down to earth, dressed in an outfit a little too cool for me to understand and eager to show me around their lovely apartment that is decorated in a way that I quite liked but I'm sure my baby boomer father would find offensive. I even end up meeting Ramsey's girlfriend, a fellow actor (who I admittedly had never heard of) who is equally as young and pretty as Ramsey is. They are both lovely and down to earth, a sentiment I don't often find relatable working with celebrities.

Kaitlin Denver is in her late 20s and still looks like she could be in high school. She lives in a shared house with her sister, whom she also shares a music career with. Despite the controversy surrounding her character in the show, she seems to remain completely unfazed by the backlash and threats that surround Abby Anderson. Denver merley shrugs when I ask her how she deals with it, leaving me to assume her vices when it comes to dealing with unprecedented hate.

I meet other stars of the show too. Gabriel Luna has all the southern charm of Tommy Miller and more, making me question whether he really does any acting when playing the sweeter, younger Texan brother. Isabela Merced is very beautiful in person and is also far shorter than I had imagined. What she lacks in height she makes up for in personality and charm.

Of course, when you think of the stars of The Last Of Us, there is probably someone else that comes to mind. Securing an interview with Pedro Pascal is probably one of the harder things I have had to do in recent years. It's not that Pacal is hard to come by; in fact, in recent years we haven't been able to escape him. I originally doubted that I would even be able to secure an interview with the internet's "daddy." Pascal has had a busy few years, and this one is no different. With multiple projects coming out this year, including the new season of The Last Of Us and his highly anticipated entry into the MCU as the iconic Richard Reed, it seems that everyone wants a piece of him. While all the other actors on this list do have notable careers outside of the show, the point of this interview series was to be able to interview the main cast members of the show in anticipation for the new season; however, I found that same sentiment hard to carry across when interviewing Pascal. I don't want to spoil the show for anyone, but I will just say that he won't be back next season. Whether that's due to internal conflicts or simply being too booked, we’ll never know.

I was rather ecstatic to receive a phone call from someone on his team letting me know the time and date for our interview. Like normal, I'm given an NDA to sign before receiving any personal information, such as his address (which I did require for the purpose of the interview). But everything else seems to go off without a hitch.

I was admittedly nervous to meet him. In the best way possible, his reputation definitely proceeds him. Pascal is only ever described as kind, loving, funny, and any other positive synonyms for a massive sweetheart that you can think of. I personally have been a big fan of his work since he played forever thirsted over narcos agent Javier Paner. I know they say you shouldn't meet your idols (and trust me, I've had my fair share of heartbreaking realizations that someone I once admired is actually a piece of shit), but I had high hopes for meeting Pedro. And I am happy to report that it did not disappoint.

I arrived at his home in Los Angeles ten minutes earlier than I should have. Not that I'm kept waiting, as before I can get a second knock in on the door, a young woman flings it open, smiling at me tightly. She quickly lets me in, introducing herself as Pascal's assistant, offering me tea or coffee, and ushering me to sit down on the comfy-looking couch while I wait for her boss to arrive (which she insists should not be too long). I take a moment to look around the room while I'm waiting. The room is sweet and welcoming, much like the rest of the home, which feels very well... homely (like stepping into your best friend's house and chatting with their parents at the dinner table). It's a hard feeling to describe, such a sense of nostalgia from a place that I had never been in before. It feels fitting though that a man so beloved as Pedro Pascal should have a home that feels so nice. I snoop to get a closer look at the photos that hang up on the walls and sit on cabinets. Most of them seem normal. There are a few faces I recognize within the photos; Oscar Iscac can be spotted alongside a younger-looking Pascal in one of the photos on the wall. I spot John Favro amongst a few people in a photo that looks to have been taken on the set of The Mandelorian, but apart from that, the photos seem normal. They depict family and friends in various places over various years; it appears that Pascal cherishes his relationships with loved ones above all else.

I'm stopped in my snooping by another face in one of the photos, a face I recognize instantly, a face that has been all over the internet and tabloids for some time now. Pedro's wife. The photo is the first one in which she features prominently, sitting alongside what I can only assume to be one of her husband's sisters. It's a sweet photo, one that I can imagine Pedro was on the other side of, grinning wildly while taking. Y/N Pascal is an elusive figure that the media and her husband's fans have been trying to know better for a few years now. She is what is best described as a "normie," that is to say that she is just like you and me; that is perhaps what makes her so interesting to fans. She doesn't appear to have any ties to the industry; she isn't some big-wig producer's daughter; in fact, despite their insistence, fans have been unable to find anything on her. She has no public social media accounts, no company profiles online, and no one she went to high school with has come forward with a tik tok horror story (yet!). The couple are shrouded in mystery; no one seems to know how they met, where Y/N is from, or even the highly shrouded question of her age. She certainly appears younger than Pascal by a good few years, and I'm sure that I could find thousands of posts online speculating (or being downright nasty) about how young she is. But out of respect for the happy couple, I leave it a mystery.

The sharp heels of the sensible shoes that Pascal's assistant is wearing suddenly come back into earshot. She warns me to be ready with my stuff as “they” will be home soon. I don't think twice about her words before hauling ass back to the couch and trying to pull myself together. It's not long before I hear the front door open. Amy (Pascal's assistant that I had only just remembered the name of) runs to the door. I walk slower behind awkwardly, not wanting to intrude (despite the fact that I had spent the last ten minutes snooping around what was essentially a stranger's house). I peek round the corner to be greeted with Pascal's broad back. He is facing away from me, talking to his assistant lowly. His assistant finishes speaking and moves past me, wishing me luck in passing. Pascal doesn't turn around to greet me yet; in fact, he drops down onto one knee to reveal to my utmost shock his wife. Neither of them pay me any mind as he begins untying her shoes for her, ever the gentleman everyone believes he is.

It's not a second later that the man of the hour turns around to greet me. He smiles widely at me, and I find myself blushing slightly at his unwavering eye contact as he introduces himself. He only introduces himself by his first name, not something I find often when meeting famous people; they are often eager to give me the name that everyone knows and loves them by. It seems a bit of a strange phenomenon in Hollywood that has missed Pascal. His wife then steps forward to introduce herself. I hate to be the bearer of bad news to the millions of jealous fans, but Y/N Pascal is strikingly beautiful; even as I meet her in her own home with no makeup, she glows ethereally with a striking smile that looks like it belongs on the cover of a magazine. In that moment meeting her I quickly see why Pascal holds her in such admiration.

Much to my disappointment, that is the first and last time I see her during the interview. Pedro ushers her away somewhere out of sight with a protective arm around her shoulder. I can hear him mutter to her lowly, promising to be quick. Before kissing her goodbye with an "I love you." It makes my heart ache with a longing. Much like the rest of the internet, I wish I had a man like Pedro Pascal. We chat for a while, while exploring his house, he speaks passionately about his career, which he clearly loves. He has a flame behind his eyes as he speaks about his long-winded love for the cinema. He tells me stories of his famous friends that are featured on his walls. We laugh together, and he very much reminds me of an old friend. Even though I should be interviewing him, I let him talk, rambling on about things that I didn't find important enough to put in this interview, but they certainly put a smile on my face.

The house is beautiful; it's decorated nicely and feels authentic and homely. It's not massive, not overly obnoxious in the way many celebrity houses are; it's still big, the kind of size that screams loving family. I don't mean to make assumptions, but it almost feels like it's been brought with the idea of a growing family in mind. I complement the house easily. Pedro smiles at me. For the first time in the interview, he refers to his wife. He tells me that he hadn't cared where they lived; “anywhere is home when you are with someone that you love,” but insists that she had loved the house the moment they first saw it. "She has better taste than me,” he tells me with a loving glint in his eye. "She did a good job.” I compliment, he nods and smiles, "always thought I was biased 'cause I’m married to her, but glad to know it's not just me." I feel awfully privileged to get an insight into Pedro's fondness of his wife. It's not often that he speaks about her publicly; she gets mentioned in passing during interviews and is often spotted at events with him, safely away from the cameras, but it's clear to the general public that his marriage is a part of his life that he wishes to keep away from public scrutiny.

Its towards the end of the interview that I do ask him about his marriage. We walk past a wedding photo that depicts him and his lovely bride squashed together on one seat, smiling widely at the camera. He doesn't say anything when he notices me peering at the photo. I ask him carefully if he thinks being a married man has changed him. He ponders for a second. "Probably,” he answers me carefully. It's not the response I had expected from him, so I quickly encourage him to go on. "I suppose it has in a way,” he continues. “It's not that the amount of love I had changed, but I feel so proud about it now, like that I want to shout from the rooftops and tell everyone of my loved ones how much I love my wife, MY wife, ya know?” I smile and nod at his explanation. I understand what he is saying—such a sweet sentiment that it makes my heart warm.

We don't speak for much longer after that; he briefly mentions a few upcoming projects, which he seems excited for. I ask him what he has planned next, after his next few big projects are done. He hesitates for a second. “Truthfully,” he says, “I plan on taking a step away for a bit.” I ask if he wants to settle down more. “Yeah, that's part of it; I mean, I’m not getting any younger.” He tells me, “Things are changing soon, and I just want to be settled with my family.” He finishes. I wonder for a moment what he is referring to when he mentions these soon changes; I don't ponder on it too long; much like a crazed fan, I have a few theories floating around in my head.

We wrap up the interview from there; he is as polite and gracious as he has been the entire time, shaking my hand and thanking me for my time. I try to thank him for the interview and for letting me into his house, but he simply shakes his head at me, insisting it was his pleasure. He disappears soon after that, saying he has something to attend to (and speed walking in the direction that his wife disappeared to). I'm left to see myself out; I don’t snoop too much after I’m left alone. I make my way back to the front of the house, peering around as I go. I peek inside one room that appears to be in the middle of some kind of renovation or do-over. There are multiple pieces of yet-to-be put together furniture on the ground as the walls look to be in the middle of being painted a pastel purple color.

I’m about to leave when something catches my eye—on the table by the front door, which has various bits and bobs scattered over it, but none of these catch my eye. I step closer to get a clearer view of what appears to be a small black and white photo. I quickly realize what it is: tucked beneath the wallet I had seen Pedro place down before our interview began is an ultrasound. I smile knowingly as my theory is proven correct; the Pascal family is about to be adding another member.

Congratulations to Pedro as his wife on the upcoming addition to their family.

142 notes · View notes

twig-tea · 1 year ago

Text

Things from Wandee Goodday ep 3 I can't stop thinking about:

I love so much that we got some good friends with benefits tension around personal boundaries when Dee asked who Yei was and then backed off (but Yak told him anyway). And between the jokes about rimming, Dee demanding Yak pay more attention to his dick last episode, and starting this episode in the 69 position, I am very, very here for this show saying over and over that sex is not just one act.

[ID: Gif of the beginning of episode 3, whichi is a pan-to-shot of Dee and Yak laying in 69 position on the floor under blankets]

i loved the different responses to hearing someone you love is in a "Friends with Benefits" situation; Kao warned Dee not to catch feelings or read too much into the situation and Cher/Yei teased Yak for lying to himself about what the situation is. Both are super valid and speak to who Dee and Yak are, who Kao and Cher/Yei are, and all of their experiences with love. And it speaks to the closeness of these relationships too, that Cher noticed Yak's necklace gone immediately and Kao similarly clocked its addition on Dee instantly.

Super here for Kao being the ultimate support bestie at work, equal parts haranguing and backing Dee up. Their relationship is perfection.

I really liked Yak peace-ing out of their agreement when Dee dropped a huge request with no context, that was so valid and in the spirit of FWB (he didn't actually owe him a bigger conversation).

I've already reblogged a couple of other people (@negrowhat and @lurkingshan) talking about this so I won't belabour it, but I am judging Dee for not only ignoring Yak's boundaries by going to his workplace and forcing him to train him and then flirting with him during training sessions after Yak both made clear he's worried about being out at work and had ended their agreement. I hope we get more of an explanation for Yak's reticence about dating a man while aiming for the championship as well as his change of mind.

The conversations with Cher and Oyei have me so curious about their history! Tell me everything, show. I put these questions in tags on a gifset (but to put them on main: Where is Oyei and Yak's father (who is also a former champ but apparently uninvolved with this family business, if he's still alive)? What happened to Yak's mother that he doesn't know if he takes after her? Why can they go to Cher's family for financial help but not Yei/Yak's (to the point where they had to take out what sounds like a predatory loan during COVID)? What is Cher afraid of re: being seen being affectionate to Oyei, and where does that come from? Is this history related to why Yak is so worried about his relationship to Dee getting in the way of his championship? All of this is seeded so organically and I'm so, so curious. It also has me even more in my feelings about Cher and Yei calling Yak their son.

[ID: Gif of Yei saying to Cher: I own this place. What's there to be afraid of? From the set linked in the paragraph above]

[I have a clown theory that Cher and Oyei's relationship is why his dad is out of the picture and his gym is in financial trouble (because it prevented Yei from getting sponsorship despite being a champion), and why Yak is worried about being in a relationship with a man even though he knows his brother won't care...we'll see how much of this the show pulls together!]

The flash of trauma from Dee at the crosswalk was interesting too; where is that going? What happened in Dee's past and how is it going to affect the story in future?

[More clown speculation: Is it related to why Dee is so good with patients and passionate about ortho? Has he seen someone in his life become disabled due to physical injury?]

Speaking of, I really loved seeing Dee be good at his job and great with patients and their families. In addition to it being just nice to see and good for our understanding of his character, it sets him up to have a fighting chance in the contest too, since patients apparently get a vote.

I love love love the camaraderie and giggling between Dee and Yak around making Ter jealous and shoving their fake relationship in those gossiping nurses' faces. The way they are actually friends who like one another and enjoy spending time together is just really wonderful to watch.

My biggest question is: Will Dee get a chance in this narrative to show up for Yak the way Yak has been showing up for Dee? And how can that current imbalance be reconciled with this all leading towards Dee trying to get a placement to go abroad--and his self-stated toxic trait of always needing to win? [shoutout to @chicademartinica for laying that out succinctly in her post]

In the meantime, I'm having a blast.

#wandee goodday #bl meta #typed so that i can stop thinking it #this show is laying down a lot of groundwork and doing a lot of things i really like #with a few things that have me nervous #looking forward to the ride this show takes us on every week as we learn more!

158 notes · View notes

mycurrentobsessionis · 2 months ago

Text

Reese Kelly and His Shadow

spoiler warning: Scarlet Hollow (Episodes 3 and 4)

Reese Kelly's condition is, to me, very reminiscent of the analytical psychology concept of the ego-dystonic complex or shadow archetype. When in the basement with him in Episode Four, he becomes more confident and bold, more expressive, and more protective (or possessive, depending on specific dialogue choices and how you interpret his behavior). Part of these changes are due to a combination of shock, betrayal, fear, and the anger and adrenaline that results from those feelings. However, narration available to players with the Mystic trait will recognize fundamental changes to his personality as he shakes off the effects of the medication his mother has been giving him.

In my opinion both versions of him that we meet -- the kind, helpful, and somewhat sad young man on Wednesday and early Thursday afternoon, and the angry mom-eating monster that we meet on Thursday night -- are equally him and not him.

In Jungian psychology, the Shadow is one of many aspects of our personalities, representing repressed thoughts, feelings, and impulses, as well as negative traits, fears, and weaknesses. These are the negative aspects of the Shadow, though it has a positive side as well. It is a source of creativity, for example, and assertiveness. Oftentimes, it is the part of ourselves that we reject, because when not kept in check, it causes us to become isolated from others due to its more destructive tendencies.

How does this apply to Reese? Well, it's notable that Reese is extremely unassertive. There are several points on Wednesday afternoon where you can insult him or his art, and he will never be the one to confront you. Instead, either Dr. Kelly or Kaneeka will call you out. However, Reese is not unaffected by these comments. Behind the scenes, he will view you as more adversarial. When asked about Tabitha, he is diplomatic, noting politely that Tabitha didn't seem to like him in school -- even laughing about this -- and suggesting that she may have become nicer since he knew her. We can also see this with Reese's art. He puts everything negative inside him into his art and then hides it so that he doesn't have to look at it. Joan might be using ricin to keep him weak enough that he can't get worked up enough to transform and is forced to stay home, but I think this is likely what's holding the beast at bay -- Reese is doing what his mother taught him by example and suppressing his shadow. Stella and Kaneeka suggest that it's like "art therapy" but it's really not. He expresses the emotions, but he never actually processes them. His shadow is like a coke bottle that he keeps shaking until it eventually blows.

Failure to integrate the Shadow into your overall personality can lead to self-destructive tendencies as your Shadow tries to impose its will on the outside world, as well as self-hatred and shame. That's why Reese seems to have two personalities -- his two "sides" are at war with one another. He can no longer suppress his Shadow, and he won't be able to until he does the work to integrate his monstrous side with the rest of him.

What Reese needs is to be able to sit down with that side of himself and figure out how to channel his intense emotion somewhere that is productive and safe for himself and others. I don't think he's going to become a people-eating monster that sows chaos about town. But he clearly feels his emotions intensely, and after a certain point that shit is exhausting. He deserves better.

#reese kelly #scarlet hollow #scarlet hollow spoilers #sh spoilers #sh analysis #scarlet hollow character analysis

32 notes · View notes

daydreamgoddess14 · 2 years ago

Text

Red Card

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent x F!Reader

It's the first time in 135 years that the Premier League has allowed a female referee to official a match... Remaining neutral is absolutely key. Plenty of fluff and smut and flirting 😏

The anticipation was at a whole different level. For the first time in history, a woman would referee a Premier League football game. The FA had played a blinder from a marketing perspective - a local girl from Richmond itself - refereeing a Richmond vs. Man City match - the top two finishing teams of the previous season. Sky Sports, BT Sport, Match of the Day, ESPN… every single football broadcaster or news outlet was on site. It couldn’t get any more high profile. It had been all anyone had talked about for weeks on end. Roy was sick of hearing about it, talking about it, and reading about it.

“New Trent?”

“What do you think about a woma-”

“Reffing the next match? It’s about fucking time. Should have been done years ago. The league might be saying all the right things and making a big deal out of it, but it’s only disguising the fact that they haven’t bothered utilising female referees until now.”

“And what do you think of the referee chosen for the match?”

“Did I offer you a fucking follow up, New Trent? She’s a fantastic ref, and has a great eye. I’ve seen her run some lower league matches and it’s high time she had a role in the Prem.” He looked around for his next victim, “You with the… bald spot?”

“And will you be saying the same thing if she books one of the lads next week or a decision doesn’t go your way?”

“Course I fucking will. I don’t suddenly change my opinion of any of the other refs? We’ve all got jobs to do and roles to play. I don’t think we can ask for anything more than for any of the referees to be fair and equal. I don’t give a shit who we’re on about, that applies to all of them.” He looks around for any other burning questions, “Right, fuck off then you lot. I’m done for the day.” He rose from the desk and left the bustle of the press conference. In the office, Beard and Nate were looking over plans for the next week while the team milled around the gym and treatment rooms.

“Tough presser?” Beard asked.

“No more than fucking usual. All anyone is talking about is the new-”

“Female ref? The news is everywhere. As if the match wasn’t high profile enough as it is.” Nate filled in, a bundle of nervous energy.

“Yeah, well we’ll be fine. Just gotta make sure the boys keep their heads down. The new ref isn’t their problem, they don’t need to even be thinking about that.”

“But they will, because that’s all they’re hearing about. We haven’t had this much press coverage for ages, the match sold out months ago. They may not have to think about her, but the whole situation does impact their whole build up to the game.” Beard declared.

“Right, get ‘em in here.” Roy grimaced. Nate dashed off to assemble the team. “Alright lads?” There were a few murmurs and replies. “I know there’s a lot of noise around this one - some of it is to do with us and the City game, some of it is none of our business. I suggest you steer clear of the news for a few fucking days. There’s no need to watch it at all. No Twatter or whatever you fucking use. Just stay off that shit for the rest of the week, yeah? Any news you need, you hear from us. I want to keep the positivity we’ve got for the new ref, so if you’re asked about it by the paps on the car park, be fucking nice. Otherwise, you don’t watch or listen to all of the fucking fuss about the weekend, alright?”

“Coach.” Isaac nodded in agreement, the other players followed his lead.

~~~~~~~

The noise was deafening, the stadium packed to the rafters. You hovered at the side of the pitch with the other officials, warming up until it was time for the meet and greet of the team managers. The two managers were like fucking titans of football royalty. You were about to meet Pep Guardiola for god sake. And if you even think for one second about meeting Roy Kent, you might just pee your pants. Pep is great, wonderful - the boss! But you grew up not twenty minutes down the road, so Roy is firstly, the literal definition of local hero, and secondly, the big crush of your early 20s. You spent many Euro Championships and World Cups in the pub singing his chant and ogling his legs. Fortunately when the Premier League and media ask about your neutrality, they don’t ask whether you’ve experienced sexual fantasies about any of the players or managers. At least you’d only be admitting that about one person and not, like, a whole team. And you would never admit it publicly. The home crowd roars as the Richmond team is announced, you make your way to the space between the two dugouts ready to greet the players. They all shake your hand as they pass you, with a few nods of encouragement and words of support. The same applies to the Man City team, you’re determined not to be starstruck in front of Pep Guardiola so you shake his hand with a big smile and wish his team luck. You turn to Roy Kent and his large hang engulfs yours. You whack on your big smile and offer the same affirmation as you did to Pep. On the pitch, you speak momentarily with the two captains and blow your whistle for go time.

The trouble with Premier League football is just that, it's Premier League. Top flight. The best of the best. Keeping pace with these players was a job in itself, being in the action without impacting it or getting in the way was another, and being the all seeing, all knowing one was… yet another. Your mind (and body) are pulled from goalpost to goalpost, and it's really no surprise that the referee is often blamed for poor decisions. It's impossible to see every single thing that happens on the pitch. You're making good decisions so far, nothing out of the ordinary. Shortly before halftime, one of the Richmond defenders nearly dislocates his shoulder, going in hard on Haaland. It feels cruel to punish him, but it's part of the job, so you have to award Man City the free kick. From the other side of the pitch, you can hear Roy Kent over the sound of 60,000 people screaming the same thing. Haaland scores, of course. You hang back while the teams leave the pitch at halftime, but he's waiting for you in the tunnel.

"The fuck did you give a free kick for?!"

"You shouldn't be collaring me out here, but to answer your question, the tackle was too much."

"Bullshit, it was a fair tackle and McAdoo would have hurt himself more than Haaland."

"Bullshit. Haaland has got about 5 inches and half a stone on McAdoo."

"5 inches is fucking nothing." He smirks.

"Really?” You arch an eyebrow at him, “did you seriously choose today to make a dick joke?" Utter disbelief is written all over your face, you shake your head and leave him cursing himself in the tunnel. Halftime was supposed to be a moment to catch your breath, not waste it on fighting with Roy Kent. You knew better than to get into it with managers. They saw the action from the sidelines and only had so much impact and influence. They took their lack of control out on officials all the time, it was supposed to be your job to stay calm and walk away, not engage. You ignore him on your way back to the pitch, he's just inside the exit of the tunnel and he could be there to apologise but he could very much be there to shout at you some more. The second half is just as eventful, Richmond are pushing hard for at least an equaliser, and Man City are loath to let them get it. When Obisanya has a shot on goal, which goes wide, City are pleading for a goal kick, but it's not. You award the corner, and Rojas sweeps a beautiful pass into Tartt, who sends the ball straight into the corner of the net. City scores again shortly afterwards, and you have to keep your head to make sure no one is deliberately trying to cause injury to anyone else. When Tartt goes down just outside the area, you request VAR footage to aid your decision before calling for a free kick. He scores, but it's an immediate offside and Roy Kent looks like he might explode. When play resumes, Colin Hughes gets a goal straight away. The game ends in a 2-2 draw, but the fans and teams both seem appeased.

~~~~~

By the time the press conferences are over, Roy's had more than enough. He (respectfully) disagreed with your first free kick decision, but praised your other choices and overall declared you "No better or worse than the other pricks." The stadium is starting to clear, and the Man City bus has just left. Richmond players make plans to get food at Ola’s. When Roy sees two of the officials only just leaving, he sends the others ahead and makes his way down to the away team and visitors facilities.

“I hope you’re here to apologise.” She states dryly as he approaches.

“Yeah,” he looks bashful, “the dick joke was a dick move. Sorry.” She looks so serious, he’s not sure the apology is accepted until he spies a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Was pretty funny. In alternative circumstances.”

“Noted. Congratulations anyway, noise from the press has all been good so far.”

“Nice to know my performance will be scrutinised forever while every mediocre male referee gets a pass for another week.”

“I’m sure your performance will only improve.” He inwardly groaned. She was going to laugh in his face. A dick joke and then godawful flirting? It was only what he deserved.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’ll pass that direct quote on to The Sun.”

“They’ll have a fucking field day. Richmond manager does shit job at flirting with the only female ref in the league? They’ll probably go and interview the poor woman I called my girlfriend when we were in year 6.”

“Flirting?”

“No,” he scoffed, “no, course not. I didn’t mean that. Just a joke.” You cocked your head at him,

“Should we start again? Hi, you must be Roy Kent, I’m the first female referee in a Premier League game in 31 years. Well, actually it’s more like 135 years but the FA are trying to make themselves look marginally better.”

“Nice to meet you. Great job on the match, I respectfully, completely, disagree with that fucking free kick in the first half but other than that… no complaints.” He steps closer, you’re showered and changed but he can still smell the fresh grass mingling with the citrus and spice of the products you use. The combination is incredible - like summer and sunshine.

“I wouldn’t give a shit if you did have any complaints. Looking after your feelings isn’t in my job description.” You take in his height, broad shoulders and dark eyes and the long dormant crush rises to the surface immediately. You hadn’t taken much notice since you stopped having posters on your walls all those years ago, you’d only caught a few of his appearances as a pundit. He’s gorgeous, despite his surly appearance there’s an unmistakable twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Like he’s having fun with whatever this tension is that bubbles between you. And when he does smile at your commitment to fairness, it takes your breath away.

“Good to know the FA can rely on you staying neutral then.” He says quietly. Anticipation crackles in the air and fizzes in your stomach. You match his playfulness in your response, and step into his personal space,

“I don’t think there’s anything here that could sway me to any team in particular.” You smile, “not yet, anyway.” He waits until you’ve definitely left the room before he lets go of the breath he’s been holding.

~~~~~

You’re dragged out by your friends to celebrate that night, even though your legs ache like you’ve done a 10km run. It wasn’t so much the running, you specifically trained for that, it’s the constant change in direction and the intensity of having your attention focused on so many things at once. If the FA thought they could throw you under a bus by giving you such a high profile game, you’re pleased you proved them wrong. The bar is crowded and noisy and you’ve already spotted a couple of the Richmond players - it was bound to happen in a relatively small town if they couldn’t be bothered to go right into the city. You’re at the bar ordering when you feel a hand on your hip and someone standing very closely behind you, a hand raises above you holding a credit card, and gestures to the barman. You’re about to lose your shit when you hear his voice rumble behind you,

“I’ve got these, mate.” He steps to your side when the person next to you moves, but his hand lingers, “I hope buying you a drink doesn’t make you question your bias?”

“Not at all, I’m afraid you’d have to work much harder than that.” He looks even better than he did a few hours ago, desire coils inside you and you instinctively draw your thighs together. It doesn’t help when he noticeably looks at your mouth, red lipstick is your ‘go to’ for a night out.

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Your drink is put on the bar next to you and you lick your lips before taking a sip. Neither of you has broken eye contact. You hear your name from a few feet away at the edge of the dance floor.

“Excuse me,” you raise your glass to him, “thank you for the drink.”

“Bruv, is that the ref from today?” Isaac steps up beside him.

“Yeah, yeah that’s her.”

“She’s fit. You gonna ask her out?”

“Dunno Isaac, bit fucking old for that shit now.”

“Nah man, I just seen the way she looked at you-” he shakes Roy’s shoulder, “ooooh! Get it boy!” Roy rolls his eyes and smirks, watching you get dragged to the dance floor. He knows he must be old because he’s only been standing pitchside for the match and wouldn’t be caught dancing. You’ve run your legs off and then still managed to get them into that sequined mini skirt and up dancing. You can feel his eyes on you but you’d rather keep your back to him and try and carry on as casually as you can, if you turn around you know you won’t be able to stop staring. At least with your back to him, you can ignore him. Plus you know your arse looks great in this skirt, it was literally the sole reason for buying it in the first place. With all the running and training you do, you’re conscious of your strong thighs and hips but sometimes, just sometimes, they make you feel powerful. Eventually, you have to duck out of the dancing - mimicking a timeout to your friends. Roy is exactly where you left him at the bar and the alcohol makes you bold. You squeeze back in next to him and take a sip of his drink, yours is long finished.

“Help yourself.” He smirks, his hand moving to your hip again, hidden by the darkness of the bar. You put a hand on his thigh and lean in slightly, taking some of the pressure off your feet. You’re close enough that he can see your breath hitch as his thumb finds a patch of exposed skin at the waistband of your skirt.

“Do you want to get out of here?” You ask quickly, pushing your nerves down. He nods and finishes most of his drink, offering the last of it to you. Outside, word has gotten out that half a football team is at the bar and everyone is out for a glimpse of Jamie Tartt. You push past the photographers with Roy’s hand at the small of your back and into a nearby taxi.

~~~~~

“Please tell me there aren’t any fucking rules about this,” Roy mumbles somewhere in the valley between your breasts.

“I have no fucking clue, and I don’t really care right now.” You gasp, breathless as he leaves a mark on your soft skin.

“No? No danger of a red card?” You laugh and it’s musical and magical and neither of you have had this much fun in ages.

“No red cards for Roy Kent. Probably makes a fucking change.”

“Oi, cheeky. I never got that many.” He’s moved down again, unzipped your skirt and thrown it behind him somewhere.

“Fucking liar. They literally use you as an example of trouble players. Oh, fuck-” he bites your thigh.

“A good example or bad example?” His tongue sweeps over your clit and you nearly rocket off the bed until he hooks his arms over your thighs and pulls you back down to him.

“Oh god, bad example,” You feel him hum against you as he works you to your peak,

“Shame, I’m a changed man.”

“Uhuh, ok,” you whisper, unable to think or speak any more coherently.

“How's your neutrality holding up?” Your hands tangle in his hair,

“Fuckkk, sooo good.”

“I’ll have to fucking try harder then,” he chuckles. You’re about to beg for mercy when he pushes two fingers into you and curls them to just the right angle that has you seeing stars. When he comes back up to kiss you, you rock your hips against his and he helps roll you both over, sitting up so he can still kiss you. His kisses are rough and needy, making you grind down against him. When you nip his neck, he pulls gently at your loose hair, whimpering and god, you’d do anything, anything to have him make that sound again. It only makes you rock harder against him, desperate to feel him inside you. When he finally pushes into you, your body clenches. You rise and fall onto him over and over, grateful for those powerful thighs he can’t keep his hands off. When he brings a hand between you both and circles your clit, you drop your head into the crook of his neck and bite down to stifle your moan. You feel his hips stutter under you as you both come, making you drop your own rhythm. You collapse in a tangle of limbs and sheets against him.

“If you ask me again if you’ve swayed me yet, I’ll bite you.”

“You’ve already fucking done that,” he laughs. “Still need to try harder?”

“Hmm, there’s no harm in trying again. You might win me over.”

“And over and over?” He kisses you again, so slowly it’s intoxicating.

When you wake in the morning, it’s to the sound of his phone ringing. He tears himself away from where he’s curled behind you, the length of his legs against yours, his chest against your back and his arms around you.

“Yeah,” his voice is low and rough with sleep and it’s enough to have you roll over and press your body back into his. You can’t hear the other person, but he hangs up quickly and opens a link they’ve sent. It’s a picture on Twitter of the two of you leaving the bar together with his hand on your lower back with the headline “RED CARD FOR KENT?”

“Told you you were fucking trouble.” You laugh.

FIN

#roy kent #roy kent fluff #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent smut #roy kent imagine

640 notes · View notes

sparrowrye · 3 months ago

Text

The Archivist’s Oath || Chapter 18: making changes

Summary: Alastor finds an archivist who can translate Old World texts. Equally bound to their duty, reader and Alastor traverse the tricky landscape of love and commitment…but to whom and to what?

Chapter Synopsis: We implement our plans and strategy with the help of Rosie and Alastor. Will it be enough?

Master List

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I knew I would be giving myself away by translating as fast as I did for Rosie's district. I had been stalling for weeks ever since I was brought to Pentagram City, periodically taking long breaks and pretending the translation itself was difficult, but now I was moving as fast as a hawk diving for its prey.

My back itched where my wings should be, but I shoved the feeling to the back of my mind.

My strategy in translations wasn't linear and it clearly puzzled Alastor, who was too busy preparing his district for Storm Season to properly ask me about it. I had various textbooks spread out on the floor for easy viewing and in a manner that would least damage their flimsy bindings. I scanned their table of contents and only translated the sections that I needed--such as hurricane barriers, tree species, and food storage--all of which were in different books.

I spent three days translating everything I needed, rarely sparing even enough time to eat or sleep. I wanted to give Rosie my findings as soon as possible to give her and her district enough time to make the necessary changes. It was only when I nodded off in between translations that I was forced to take a break from my work.

Things started to feel alright again. The weight on my chest wasn't so heavy, my heart didn't ache as much, and my grief wasn't so suffocating. My feet still burned under the shielding of the bandages and occasionally throbbed when I leaned on them too heavily, but it was obvious that they were healing. It gave me hope that maybe everything would be alright again.

I was deep in the middle of another translation when Alastor's footsteps on the staircase made me pause. I looked up from my huddled spot on the floor to see his bright red ears through the banister, the furry tuffs darkened by the nightly shadows of the room. His eyes met mine through the bars and didn't look away as he rounded the post and came to a stop at the edge of my bookish circle.

As his eyes surveyed the landscape, mine surveyed him. He wasn't wearing his red coat and it left him in a red long sleeve, black suspenders, and thin sleeve garters. I noticed his staff wasn't anywhere to be found as he balanced two plates of food in his palms.

His eyes lifted to meet mine again. "Niffty told me you hadn't eaten dinner yet. Or yesterday," he pointed out. He placed both plates on the abandoned desk as the girl in question came sprinting up the steps to hand Alastor his staff. He thanked her as she twiddled back down the stairs and leaned the staff against the side of the desk.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Come eat. It'll do you no good if you collapse while translating." He used magic to spawn another chair and position it the same way he had done a few weeks ago, back when he monitored my slow progress to see if it was feigned or real.

I hesitated to listen on the sheer principle of disobeying. I didn't like it when he ordered me around, even if it had been quite some time since he last went to that extreme. Even his words just now had been softened around the edges. It made him sound indifferent, perfectly masking his true feelings and intentions.

My stomach twisted as the prospect of food and noted that I hadn't eaten anything since earlier that morning, which had been simple butter and toast. Begrudgingly, on account for my stomach, I stood with the lantern, careful not to hurt my feet as I stepped over the books.

My nerves churned around in my lungs as I sat at the desk, waiting for his questions. But they never came as he presented a scroll, sealed with a wax signature I immediately recognized as Rosie's. I reached for the paper but Alastor quickly pulled it away before I could even touch it.

"Eat first," he commanded. "You may be able to evade Niffty, but you can't pass me on this." He let the scroll rest in his lap as he took a bite from his own plate. I kept my expression schooled and forked a collection of peas and mashed potatoes. I saved the tender meat for the end, letting the mashed potatoes soak up all the juices. Since my arrival, I found I had a certain liking for any kind of meat that wasn't chicken.

I was so focused on eating the delicious meal, having forgotten how wonderful of a cook Niffty was in my obsession to translate, that I flinched when Alastor's hand came into view again. He placed the scroll on the desk between us and continued eating.

I abandoned my fork and immediately opened the letter. It took me a few moments to hold it at the right distance between my face and the lantern, but even then it was difficult to read her fluid, flowy handwriting. Once I finished read, I rubbed my eyes and put the letter down. She was excited to see me again and said she would have a collection of people ready for whatever plans I would bring her next time.

"Why do you do that?" Alastor asked, breaking the silence.

I dared a glance up at him. "Do what?"

"Read like that. You're going to give yourself a headache from all that moving in and out and sideways." He was referring to the way in which I had tried to read Rosie's letter.

I sat up, straightening my shoulders and grabbing my fork. "I...just do?"

He finished eating, huffed a sigh, then flicked his wrist. He held out the object in his palm, offering it to me. "Here. Try these."

I stared at the object. "Glasses?"

"Do you detest them?" he asked with a mixture of curiosity and sarcasm. They were small, black, simple nose glasses.

"No. I just...I don't really believe I need them."

He shrugged, hand still extended. "Maybe not. But humor me. I'm farsighted as well." He leaned his elbow on the desk and nudged his red monocle for emphasis.

Something about the way he said it made warmth spread through my chest. He was offering his glasses. I didn't even know he had them aside from the little red monocle he always wore. When we were in the bunker, I had a feeling he needed glasses from the way he would squint at the cards in his hand. Having not known him at the time, I figured he either lost them in his scuffle with the White Angels or simply made do with his poor eyesight, as many people did in my surrounding communities.

So, I did humor him. I took the glasses from his hand, ignoring the warmth on my knuckles from where they brushed his palm, and peered through the leans. The words from the letter, which were once fuzzy and distorted, were now crisp, clear, and bigger. I could even see the texture of the paper.

"Whoah...I...that's...what?" I pulled my sketches of the hurricane barriers and examined them, still not yet believing that all this time I actually needed glasses. It made my head feel funny to see this clearly but now I didn't want to remove them.

Alastor chuckled, the sound humming in his chest. "Make a difference?"

I acknowledged his amusement and collected myself, glancing back at the textbooks laying across the floor. "I suppose." He shook his head at my obvious effort to snuff my surprise. "I thought..."

"That you wouldn't need help?" he supplied, turning his head away. "We seem to have that in common."

I removed the glasses to look at him fully. He was still dressed like the Radio Demon, but the man sitting in front of me wasn't the him. It was Al. It was the same man I met in the forest. The same man who gave me hope for a brighter, more interesting and promising future. The same man I wanted to entrust everything to. He was here, even if he didn't always show himself.

"Well..." I pushed away the mixture of emotions and tried to lighten the mood. "So long as no one sees me with these on then it's fine. They make me look three times my age." I put them on again and looked at the mirror in the corner of the room.

Alastor jumped at the chance for a tease. "Implying something, are you?"

"Well, they are your glasses."

His smile widened. "Well, you are an Archivist. It fits your occupation."

"Maybe if I reach the age of seventy."

"Then let's keep you alive until then." He looked at my nearly finished plate. "So eat your dinner."

~*~

Alastor and I made our way to Rosie's district, my translations carefully pressed between two books in my satchel. The wind was stronger than during any of my previous walks and the temperature had dropped a considerable amount. I could sense approaching storm.

The crowds parted with far more ease this time compared to when I walked with Husker, though part of that was likely from the group of hooded mages following close behind.

The sight of the Agriculture District made my shoulders drop with relief and I subconsciously took a deep breath. I noticed the construction of the wind barriers had already being put in place here.

When a storm came through, the ravine was essentially funneling the wind through itself, increasing in speed and danger as it went. The barriers were ramps of stone and machine, secured at the very top of the ravine walls, and helped the wind currents. They weren't overly tall because the sporadic change of wind currents might slip underneath and wrench the barriers free.

Luckily for me, a copy of my barrier translations had been sent to Vox by a casual messenger. He immediately began construction of the barriers in the Agriculture District on orders from Lucifer and Alastor. Now that it was almost done and he wasn't needed to supervise anymore, Rosie sent her letter informing me it was safe to meet her. I couldn't praise the woman enough for her sensitivity.

As we walked through the winding path of the Agriculture District, people gave nods to Alastor or--if they were close enough--a short greeting without expecting one in return. When they noticed me behind him, their smiles widened a tad more and offered a wave. I vowed to learn as many of their names as I could.

"There's my two lovelies!" Rosie exclaimed when she caught sight of us. She hugged me tightly then proceeded to examine Alastor for anything out of place. She fussed over the small things just to fuss, like a stray hair or a crease in his jacket, but he made no protest nor moved away. After she was finished, she lead us to her home and the group of mages waited patiently just beyond the entrance.

"So, whatchya got for me?" Rosie asked excitedly, placing a kettle on the stove then coming to her workbench to see my translations that I spread out. I showed her the drawings of the moss along the walls, the canals to pick up excess rainwater, and different types of trees.

"You'll want stability everywhere until the walls can get used to a steady temperature," I explained and pointed to one of the sketches of a tree. "You'll want to use a sycamore on the ground floor. They're really tall and good against strong winds. If the barriers don't stop the wind, the branches can lessen the impact on the stone."

I flipped the page to another one. "You'll want to have Cypress trees in the water runoff caves. They'll can survive in water and soak up most of it when the storms hit. Oaks should be higher up on the walls where they can evolve against the wind."

"If I plant some between the balconies, it should protect the homes then," Rosie added. "I don't think anyone will be upset about a tree being in their view."

I went on for another while then quieted to allow her a chance to read through my notes. Alastor brought over a tray of tea and handed one of the warm cups to me. The surrounding stone was surprisingly cold and the warm tea was much needed. I avoided his gaze as Rosie continued to flip through the pages and make her own notes on the side.

"So where do we plant the seed, then?" she asked, and I thought for a moment. Where did we plant the seed? How did the tree get through the stone? Would the roots make too large of a crack and cause a landslide?

"Tree seeds work like any other," Alastor offered, stepping closer behind us to look over our shoulders. "So it won't flower until it reaches air. Planting the seed at the bottom would allow it to stretch through the dirt and stone."

Rosie nodded, scribbling it down on the side of the one paper. Alastor's eyes blinked slowly as he glanced down at me. I dropped my eyes and busied myself with drinking the rest of my tea.

"Alright, let's get to work!"

She rounded up her group of people and paired a mage with each small group. She explained what we were trying to accomplish and gave specific locations for each project. Alastor added something here or there to his mages. And I remained silent through the whole exchange.

"Now!" Rosie looked overly happy as she turned to face me again, the groups now properly dispersed. "Time for those sycamores." Her gaze shifted to Alastor who straightened and grinned widely.

Rosie guided me away as Alastor walked into a bend of the ravine. Alastor made sure to check we were a safe distance before turning back to the ravine wall. He dug a hole where the ground met the wall and dropped a single seed.

He slammed his cane on the ground and opened his hand, claws curling inwards as he slowly lifted his hand higher and higher. The ground gave way for a seedling to sprout and it thickened as it weaved into the sky, stretching branches out until they brushed the walls. He took a few steps back and repeated the process until the tree was a fully fledged adult, towering over us in all its spotted white beauty.

Alastor looked over his shoulder, eyes blazing and a wicked smile on his face. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and took a deep breath.

My amazement dulled at the sight and I stepped back so the rock partially hid me from view. Rosie noticed but said nothing, giving her usual praises and Alastor responded lightheartedly, eyes flickering to me as I hesitantly followed her.

"It's so nice to see green instead of all these boring creams," Rosie laughed. "I suppose you need a break after that."

I stepped behind her so she was blocking his view to me and stared up at the beautiful tree. I almost felt like I was back in my forest, hearing the birds chirp and the stream trickle nearby. Almost.

"You insult me, dear Rosie," Alastor jibed. "A simple tree is nothing." He leaned to the side in an effort to catch a glimpse of me.

"Well then you've got lots of work to do!" Rosie sidestepped, revealing me as I stared longingly at the green branches. I noticed her movement and immediately collected myself, avoiding his gaze as I stepped closer to Rosie—my anchor.

~*~

"Great to see ya again Bookie!" Angel held out his double pair of arms to greet me with a hug. It felt like everyone here was twice as tall as me. "What are we fitting ya for?"

I looked uncertainly to Rosie. "The Clear Sky Festival, of course," she answered. The sun had turned the sky orange when she brought me over to the Entertainment District. Where the other districts had a pattern and order, this one had none of that--all chaos.

Alastor stood annoyed and bored in the doorway. We were in a large studio and this particular room had all kinds of fabrics, materials, and jewelry along the walls. A large mirror spread across an entire wall.

"The what?" I asked.

"The Clear Sky Festival happens when Storm Season has officially passed," she explained. "It's our way of celebrating and lifting morale after we fix all the damages."

"It's one of the biggest festivals we have." Angel looped his lower arm around mine and pulled me towards the mirror.

"And when your plans work, that's even more of a reason to celebrate," Rosie added. "People will want to meet you."

The notion sent an uncomfortable coldness through my stomach, but I tried to play it off. "None of those wonderful outfits you made for me will do?"

"Oh heavens no!" She coaxed me onto a boxed platform as Angel searched through his drawers. "This is an important festival and everyone puts on their best dresses. We're going to make you stunning."

A sobering thought crossed my mind. "What if my plans don't work?"

"They will," she said, lifting my hand and lightly tapping the back of it. "They will darling. Now! Let Angel do it his work while I take the grumpy one next door."

Alastor's ears straightened and he narrowed his eyes as Rosie approached him. "You will not be trying to fit me into anything."

"I haven't done anything for you in a while Alastor." Her tone hardened as she said, "You'll indulge me this time." Then she whisked past him and into the other room. He huffed in annoyance and peeled himself off the wall.

The other room was just as filled as the other one, though without an occupants. He left the door partially cracked for my sake and let Rosie pull his cane out of his grip. She leaned it against the counter then pulled out a box of different fabrics and...shirts?

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. He stayed rooted to his spot near the door, unwilling to go any closer.

"You're going to try these on." She gave no further explanation and waited, a hand firmly planted on her hip. He moved slowly, as if she might pounce on him, and glanced through the collection.

He gave her a flat stare with slightly pinned ears. "Rosie...what is this?"

"Clothes."

His ears went all the way back now and she giggled. "I will not wear these," he announced.

"You most certainly will," she said with a stern, motherly tone. She grabbed his coat and pulled it off his shoulders.

"Why?" He let her take the jacket off but crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation.

"You're going to be stuck in your tower for Storm Season and I'd like the poor girl to survive you."

"Survive me? I have done her no harm." After an uncomfortable pause he amended, "Since her visit with Vox."

"Alastor will you please try them?" she asked, tugging at his sleeve. "The poor girl jumps every time you walk in the room."

"She's not that skittish." Though even as he said it, he could recount numerous moments where you had flinched or visibly tensed in his presence. Thinking about it now brought an ugly feeling in his chest.

"She's tense, she's uneasy, and she's skeptical of you. And who can blame her when you stomp around in that blood red coat of yours? Don't you know the rumor going around is that you used to wear white but all your victims' blood stained your jacket?"

Alastor couldn't help but crack a smile at that one. "Sounds like a lovely rumor to me."

"That," she poked his cheek, "is what we're trying not to show her. Take off your shirt."

"What exactly are you trying to show her?" he questioned, unbuttoning and shrugging out of his red long sleeve.

Rosie eyed the long scar across his chest but made no comment. "You." The way she said it made him go still. "She sees the Radio Demon but she remembers Alastor. She met you on the brink of death and nursed you back to health in basic clothing. You didn't have a facade to hide behind. She got to see the real you."

"This is the real me," he said, though none of it was laced with any aggression—it had something lighter, something softer, something sadder behind it. "This is who I've been for a long time."

"Then maybe it's time to bring out the other side of you. The one she remembers. The one she feels safe around." She grabbed one of the shirts and held it out to him. He slipped on the loose material and let her fiddle with it.

"This will be no different than what we've been doing. She's going to keep translating and I'm going to keep listening to my radio twenty-four-seven," he pointed out.

"True, but she's not comfortable around you yet. And you need to make the first step."

"What am I supposed to do?" His voice took on an accusatory tone. "I won't change my style just for the sake of her feelings."

Rosie rolled her eyes as she backed away to give him a look over. It was a deep cream—almost brown—so that he wouldn't vomit at the sight of a 'soft color' on him. "You're not changing your style, hun. You're just changing your at-home clothes since you'll be at home twenty-four-seven with her. Only she needs to see you in these outfits."

He removed the shirt and let her put another one in his hands. This one was a more orangey-brown open sweater with a white undershirt. "I don't understand how my dressing will have any profound effect on her."

"When you dress less imposing, less intimidating, less deadly, less—"

"I get your point," he hissed lightly, pulling off the hideous shirt.

"If you dress more like a normal person and less like the Radio Demon, she'll feel safe with you. You do want her to feel safe, right?" She lifted an eyebrow, hands holding onto the material as she waited for his answer.

To his surprise, it got stuck in his throat. Of course he wanted you to feel safe. Of course he wanted to feel the snip of your sarcasm and radiance of your smile. Of course he wanted to entice you to touch your cool hands to his burning hot skin. Yet he found himself choking down his immediate response in favor of something more...defensive.

"Naturally." He focused on putting on the next sweater. "The more comfortable she is the faster she translates." He wanted to add that the memories of her flinching from him were always eating at him. He wasn't accustomed to feeling guilt.

"You don't want her to fear you like Vox, do you?"

"She doesn't!" he snapped. His response triggered a surprise in both of them. He blinked at Rosie, dumbfounded at his outburst, then looked away with a mumbled apology. "She's not afraid of me like that."

Rosie's eyes softened. She came to stand behind him so he would look at himself in the mirror. He wore a red sweater with a white button down collar poking out at his neck. Their eyes met in the mirror. "No, she's not," she agreed. "But she's wary. And it's up to you whether that changes." She reached up to remove his monocle.

Alastor practically frowned at his appearance. He couldn't deny the sweater, paired with his slightly disheveled hair, did make him look softer. He no longer carried the air of command that he spent years crafting. He looked less intimidating and less dangerous. He looked less like the manipulative Radio Demon who kidnapped you and more like the man who you had bonded with in your little corner of the world.

The edge of his mouth turned awkwardly. "This is ridiculous."

"Nooo," she turned more playful. "What's ridiculous is that it's taken me this long to get you into these clothes and I won't even be able to reap the benefits."

"If she chatters as much as you do, I'm sure you'll reap just enough, dear Rosie."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note:

Things are being put in motion…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reflection reader:

@until-thedaysof-spring

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@drevisrose @until-thedaysof-spring @torustesseract @sirens-and-moonflowers @papas-ghoulette @eris-norwega

#demi demon #archivists oath #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin rosie #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin husker #rosie hazbin hotel #hazbin vox

26 notes · View notes

caffedrine · 2 months ago

Text

Keith Howell Sequel 13 Dramatic Route - Fan Translation

If you trust me to know what I'm doing, then we have both made a huge mistake. I cannot guarantee accuracy for this fan translation, or even grammatical correctness.

Please support Cybird and pick up this event when it makes it to the English Server

The Tragedy of Jade, the Prince Who Lost His Beloved Fiancée

Unable to eat, barely able to sleep, and living like a corpse with dark circles under his eyes — such rumors spread throughout all of Kougyoku.

The Amagase family, upon hearing these rumors, acted swiftly.

Shiou: "Isn't there something I can do?"

Keith: "......If so, there is one thing."

Keith: "There is something I would like to ask of you, Prince Shiou."

The prince in the middle of it all was exactly as the rumors described — completely exhausted, his face pale as if he might follow after his fiancée at any moment.

However, though his eyes were vacant, they had not entirely lost their light. Even in his hollow gaze, a certain strength still remained.

Keith: "Jade does not intend to make a big fuss over this matter."

Keith: "From now on as well, he will continue to support all factions equally... and maintain a neutral stance."

Keith: "That is why I would like to avoid stirring up any further commotion."

Shiou: "......I'm surprised. Aren’t you often called a saintly man?"

Keith: "Emma often said I was 'kind.'"

Shiou: "Well said. Even in this situation, you choose to be kind?"

Keith: "That's not exactly the case."

Keith: "I am seething inside about the one who disgraced Emma, and I will never forgive them for the rest of my life."

Keith: "However... the culprit behind harming Emma likely had another goal in mind."

Keith: "Most likely, they wanted to sever Jade’s support for the Kuga faction."

The tense atmosphere wavered slightly.

Shiou: "May I hear more details?"

Keith: "According to Kagari-san, it was a form of treason."

Keith: "The easiest way to strike a blow to the Kuga faction would be to make Jade withdraw his support."

Keith: "That's exactly why I don’t want to play into the hands of those who harmed Emma."

Shiou: "I see... That’s not only logical but also true."

Shiou: "Even while shaking with rage, you reached that conclusion. I respect you for that."

Dry applause echoed a few times, but Keith’s expression didn’t change at all.

Shiou: "Still, we cannot say Kuga is completely blameless."

Shiou: "The protection of important guests is the highest priority in a nation plagued by internal strife."

Shiou: "If you're inviting dignitaries from abroad, there must not be any security lapses."

Shiou: "Keith, you seem forgiving, but I think this response is a bit too lenient."

Keith: "Do you really think so?"

The more they spoke, the more color returned to Keith’s lifeless face.

From a prince who lost his beloved fiancée, he began to regain his presence as a prince who carries the nation on his shoulders.

Keith: "If you think this response is lenient, Prince Shiou, then perhaps you are misunderstanding me."

Keith: "Jade's 'neutrality' is neither an act of mercy nor charity."

Keith: "It is merely part of trade diplomacy rooted in national interests."

Keith: "By maintaining neutrality, our nation has balanced relations with the other countries on the continent and secured a stable position."

Keith: "However, if we abandon that neutrality towards Kogyoku because of this incident..."

Keith: "It will send the message — to other countries as well — that 'Jade's neutrality is not absolute.' This will harm our trust and reputation."

Shiou: "….."

Keith: "It is my responsibility and duty as royalty to act in the nation’s best interest."

Keith: "No matter what happens, I cannot afford to neglect this duty."

Keith: "Besides, I doubt Emma would want to see me abandon national interests just to seek revenge."

Keith: "She believed I was 'not a failure'... I will never betray her trust, no matter what."

Every word he spoke burned with emotion, and together they built up into a blazing will.

No amount of water would be able to extinguish that flame. Faced with such resolve, Shiou's gentle smile faltered.

Shiou: "I apologize. You're right — your thinking is anything but 'soft.' "

Shiou: "In fact, I was the one being naïve."

Keith: "No, I understand you were thinking of me."

Keith: "You’ve always cared about us..."

Keith: "That's why I trust you'll understand this decision as well."

Shiou: "......Thank you. It seems I was worrying too much."

Shiou: "I respect your resolve. But I too have duties and responsibilities."

Shiou: "It would be ideal if the culprit already caught was the mastermind behind all of this... but if not —"

Shiou: "Then I will do everything in my power to ensure Jade’s trust is not further damaged."

Shiou: "Even if that means going to war with Kuga."

Keith: "....."

Shiou: "Well, I’ve taken up enough of your valuable time. I should take my leave."

Shiou: "The King Kuga and Kagari don’t exactly welcome my presence here."

Shiou: "Someday... when the war is over, I hope daily life with Kagari can return."

Turning his back, Shiou began walking away, accompanied by fluttering cherry blossom petals drifting in from outside.

The Kuga servant who opened the door glanced briefly at Keith before leading the guest — who came from enemy lands — away.

Shiou: "Oh, if it isn’t Kagari."

Kagari: "....."

The two brothers passed each other in the hallway, both stopping as they recognized the other. Shiou smiled affably, while Kagari's expression remained unmoved. That friendly smile carried a hint of bitterness.

Shiou: "You’re as cold as ever."

Kagari: "And you haven’t changed either."

Shiou: "I know I’m not welcome, but it’s nice to see your face again after so long."

Kagari: "...."

Shiou: "Did the King of Kuga tell you to hurry up and kick me out?"

Kagari: "Yeah."

Shiou: "You could at least try to hide it a little."

Kagari: "You should know why."

Kagari: "It is our duty to protect our guests."

Kagari: "You went too far this time."

Shiou: "Too far...? Whatever do you mean?"

Kagari: "That’s a warning."

Kagari: "You want to keep your head attached, don’t you?"

Shiou: "...Haha, scary. If the Yasha of Kougyoku has set his sights on me, even I wouldn’t stand a chance."

Kagari: "......"

Shiou: "Alright, alright. No need to glare like that — I won’t do anything."

Shiou: "I promise."

He resumed walking and passed by Kagari. There was no sign that the "Yasha," who had just issued a grim warning, intended to pursue him. As he neared the castle exit, Shiou stopped once more and glanced out the window into the garden.

The servant, one eye hidden by hair, also stopped in place.

Servant: "Is something wrong?"

Shiou: "That detached room over there... looks like a perfect place to play hide and seek."

Servant: "...Shall we go there?"

Shiou: "No, just talking to myself."

Shiou: "Still, I’m relieved. It was worth coming here."

Shiou: "Kagari looks well, and Keith too. Judging by that, maybe even Lady Emma is doing well too.'"

Servant: "............"

Shiou: "Just joking, of course."

Shiou: "I don't like ghosts, you know. How about you? Are you sensitive to spirits?"

Servant: "No. I’ve never seen the shadow of the dead."

Shiou: "You’ve lived a blessed life, then."

Servant: "......Please rest assured. There are no ghosts in this world."

Servant: "The dead have no place in the realm of the living."

Shiou: "True enough."

Shiou: "I too hope I never meet a ghost for the rest of my life."

That night — after the visit of a major figure from the enemy faction left the castle unsettled — peace finally returned.

However, it was still too early for the castle to truly fall asleep.

A shadowy figure moved silently through the garden, heading towards the detached room of the main castle. Gliding over the neatly trimmed grass without a sound, the figure held its breath as it approached the building.

The detached room, which was usually treated like a storage shed and rarely used, was dark as always — no lights at all.

Blending into the darkness, the figure placed a hand on the sheath of their sword, ready for anything that might emerge. With a cautious, steady movement, they slid open the door.

The room was empty.

No figure lay on the futon spread out on the tatami floor.

But the slight disorder of the bedding made it clear — someone had been there just moments ago. Raising their head, the intruder spotted a woman standing in the blind spot of the room. At that very instant, an arrow struck the floor right at their feet, forcing them to leap back.

Trembling slightly, the woman held her bow tightly, glaring fiercely at the intruder in the dead of night.

Emma: "The next shot... will hit."

(Stay calm... stay calm, Emma.)

(I knew they’d come eventually, but I didn’t expect them to find me so soon...)

The man who had visited the detached room Kagari had prepared for her looked like an ordinary servant of Kuga Castle at first glance.

A man who hid one eye behind his hair — she had passed him in the halls several times before.

But right now, she had no choice but to aim her arrow at him because of the unmistakable hostility he radiated.

While it wasn’t quite as intense as the bloodlust Prince Kagari had once unleashed, It was enough to make her skin prickle and her throat tighten with the sense of imminent danger.

Without a word, the man dressed as a servant drew his sword.

(He’s here to kill me.)

(Keith’s prediction was right after all...)

He showed no interest in small talk and instead lunged forward, closing the distance between them with swift steps.

(Which option do I choose…?)

Keith!

Prince Kagari!

Fine then — let’s do this!

Emma: "Keith!"

The moment she shouted as loudly as she could, Keith leapt from the shadows, sword drawn, cutting between her and the attacker.

Keith: "Emma, get back!"

(Thank goodness... We’d planned for this in advance, but I still wasn’t sure he’d really be here...)

Retreating to the corner of the room, Emma moved to a spot where she could flee at any time. The assassin showed no signs of surprise, as though he had anticipated Keith's presence.

Steel clashed in rapid succession, white sparks flying each time their blades met, tearing through the silence of the night.

The man narrowly dodged Keith’s attacks, leaving sharp gashes in nearby furniture,

While Keith skillfully evaded the man’s strikes, slicing a clean line through the shoji screen.

Unable to do anything but grip her bow and watch, Emma felt frustrated but knew the fight was too swift for her to intervene.

(As expected of an assassin from Kogyoku... he’s highly skilled.)

Each time the dry clang of steel echoed, her heart pounded in response.

But Keith, fighting on equal ground with this assassin — the Yasha of Kogyoku — was not one to be overwhelmed.

Gradually, the tide began to turn in Keith's favor.

The assassin must have realized it too — a brief moment of panic opened up a gap.

Keith did not miss it.

(Ah...!)

With a heavy strike, Keith drove the man backwards, smashing him through the shoji and out into the garden.

Without hesitation, Keith followed and stomped mercilessly on the assassin, who had fallen flat on his back.

Whether the blow had hit a vital spot or not, the man groaned in pain and showed no sign of being able to move his limbs.

The sword that flew from the assassin's hand landed blade-first in the ground — the battle was over.

But even so, Keith raised his sword high again.

(Wait… what is he—)

Before I could even stop him, he swung it down — yet, just as suddenly, his motion froze unnaturally mid-swing.

Holding his breath, Keith drove the blade into the ground, right beside the assassin’s face.

It looked as if something had stopped him at the last possible moment.

Keith: "...."

Even from where I stood, I could feel the tremble in his breath.

There was no kindness in his golden eyes — only fierce, burning emotion.

(…He seemed calm, but that’s not it at all...)

(Keith is furious.)

His hand on the sword trembled, as though fighting against something deep inside.

I hesitated, unsure of what to say — desperately searching for words that might cool the raging flames inside him.

And then — the bushes rustled.

Emma: "Keith, behind you…!"

The moment I shouted, Keith grabbed the assassin by the collar and hurled him backward in a powerful arc.

From the bushes emerged another assassin, who was caught completely off guard by the flying body. Both assassins crashed to the ground with a violent thud, the earth groaning under the impact.

Before they could recover, the second assassin was pinned down again —

Prince Kagari had appeared from the darkness, calmly stomping down on the assassin’s head.

Kagari: "Alive, huh? Impressive. I thought for sure you'd kill him."

Keith: "I wouldn’t do something so reckless in front of Emma."

Keith retrieved his sword from the ground and returned it to its sheath.

Kagari: "And if she hadn’t been here?"

Keith: "......"

Kagari: "That honesty is one of your virtues."

(...Is it over?)

I hurried out into the garden and saw the assassin squirming under Prince Kagari’s foot.

He fumbled with something from his pocket — a small vial.

Before I could even cry out, Keith stepped forward and crushed it underfoot.

At the same time, Prince Kagari delivered a sharp blow to the back of the assassin’s neck, silencing him completely.

Emma: "…Poison...?"

Keith: "Probably. No doubt it was meant for suicide."

Kagari: "Well-trained."

Keith: "Think we can get anything out of them?"

Kagari: "I'll try what I can."

Kagari: "But even if we do, it won’t prove he’s the mastermind."

Keith: "I know. Information alone isn’t evidence."

Keith: "At best, we’ll learn whether or not Jade’s faction was involved."

Kagari: "Is that enough for you?"

Keith: "Yeah. That’s plenty. Thank you, Kagari."

Keith: "...Though the mastermind is already obvious."

Kagari: "This time... it's a draw."

Kagari: "They failed to accomplish their goal, but we couldn't completely corner them either."

(Even if we couldn’t corner them, we did strike back...)

(...So this should settle things, at least for now.)

Kagari: "Still, your performance was quite something."

Keith: "Compared to Emma’s acting at that critical moment, I was terrible."

(But... why does Keith still look so downcast?)

(Everything should have been resolved... shouldn’t it?)

Keith Howell Normal Story: "Because It's You, I Love You So Deeply"

~Flashback~

The day of that violent storm — when uncertainty and fear consumed Keith — our story continued quietly.

Keith: "Emma’s safety is my top priority."

Keith: "Emma, come back with me. Let’s go home."

Putting aside the mystery behind the attacks and the strange happenings with the doll, he intended to return to Jade with me, leaving everything else unresolved.

It was a decision that showed just how much Keith valued my well-being above all else.

(Even so... would simply leaving Kougyoku really solve everything?)

(Still — if leaving means Keith won't have to suffer anymore, then I want that too.)

(...But even so...)

Emma: "Is that... truly how you feel, Keith?"

Keith: "Eh…?"

(I’ve been with Keith long enough. I know when something doesn’t ring true.)

Emma: "That’s not your real intention, is it?"

As I asked with certainty, Keith — who was sitting beside me on the bed — clearly averted his gaze.

(I knew it.)

Emma: "There’s no way the kind Keith I know would simply let those who tried to hurt me go free."

Emma: "You were planning to send me back to Jade, and then undertake some secret diplomatic mission, weren’t you?"

Keith: "…That’s..."

Emma: "You can’t fool me."

I stood up and stepped right in front of him.

Placing both hands on his face, I forced him to meet my eyes. His gentle expression twisted slightly into a bitter smile.

Keith: "You’ve got me... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep anything from you."

Emma: "That’s exactly right. In fact, shall I guess one more thing you’re thinking?"

Emma: "You don’t believe Prince Shiou’s words, do you?"

Keith: "Why do you think that?"

Emma: "You said it yourself earlier."

Keith: "You mean... about how that doll of you felt like some kind of warning."

Emma: "Exactly... A warning of what, I wonder?"

Keith: "That is..."

Keith: "No... it’s not good to speak based on assumptions."

Emma: "But if the culprits really are the remnants of the royal faction, just as Prince Shiou said..."

Emma: "Doesn’t the order of events seem strange to you?"

Keith: "Order?"

Emma: "Normally, warnings come before someone takes action."

Emma: "But in our case, we were already attacked once."

Emma: "Would people capable of such a sudden assault really bother to kindly send us a warning later?"

Keith: "..................................They wouldn’t."

Emma: "That’s what has been bothering you too, isn’t it, Keith?"

Emma: "So then, who sent that warning, and what was it really about…?"

(When I first heard Keith talk about it, only one person came to mind.)

Emma: "It felt like an unspoken message — 'Do as I say.'"

Keith’s clear eyes widened slightly, and then he let out a soft, almost amused laugh.

Keith: "You truly are an astute woman… more than I deserve."

Emma: "I try my best every day to keep up with you, Keith."

(It looks like Keith has reached the same conclusion as I have.)

Emma: "The mastermind is Prince Shiou… isn’t it?"

Keith: "Most likely."

(Prince Shiou had been attacked right along with us... but if that was all an act...)

(By being attacked together, he would gain the right to judge the real culprits.)

(And by hiding the true identity of the attackers from us, everything fits neatly together.)

Keith: "His words were consistently aimed at fostering suspicion towards the Kuga faction."

Keith: "His goal was likely to sever our ties with Jade."

Keith: "At the same time, Prince Shiou isn’t making too much effort to perfectly conceal himself as the mastermind."

Keith: "He’s careful not to leave evidence, but he’s subtly guiding us to understand only what he wants us to know."

Emma: "And if we defy Prince Shiou and continue interacting with the Kuga faction...?"

Keith: "The next attack might be even more severe."

Emma: "...How cowardly."

Keith: "I think so too."

Keith: "But just like Prince Shiou’s ridiculous story, our theory lacks any real proof."

(Even though we know who’s behind it... it’s frustrating that we can’t do anything about the one who hurt Keith.)

(Even if we can’t catch them… is there no way to strike back somehow?)

(I refuse to forgive someone who forced Keith into such pain and such a decision.)

(If they think they can control us so easily… they’re sorely mistaken.)

Emma: "Even if we can’t prove it..."

Emma: "We can at least make it clear — we won’t give in to threats."

Keith: "…Emma?"

(I do have an idea...)

(If Prince Shiou deceived us with an act, then we can respond in kind — with a little act of our own.)

Emma: "I’m sure you’ll object to this, Keith, but… will you listen to what I have to say?"

~End Flashback~

By the time we left Kougyoku and returned to Jade, the intensity of that day felt like a distant memory.

(It’s been so long since I’ve been able to relax and enjoy tea at night with Keith like this.)

As I sat on the sofa sipping tea and set my cup down on the side table, a soft yawn escaped me without thinking.

Embarrassed, I quickly covered my mouth, but Keith, sitting beside me, gently placed his hand on my shoulder.

He pulled me close, and my head naturally came to rest on his broad shoulder.

His warmth, like basking in sunlight, melted away all my tension and left my face loose and content.

Keith: "Sleepy?"

Emma: "No... I just finally let my guard down. Anything could’ve happened on the way back, after all."

(In the end, though, we made it back without incident...)

I leaned against him, letting myself be spoiled, as his hand stroked my hair softly.

Emma: "I hope I don’t get treated like a ghost next time we visit Kougyoku."

Keith: "You won’t. I made sure to tell Kagari."

Keith: "I asked him to spread the word that Jade’s fiancée is alive, and that the rumors of your death were false."

Emma: "Fufu... I should thank Prince Kagari when I see him next."

Keith: "Maybe I should find some dorayaki from Jade for him. I think he’d like that."

Our conversation and casual gestures — all so normal — had finally returned to what we used to call everyday life.

Yet, it wasn’t completely the same.

Since leaving Kougyoku, there had been moments when Keith’s face was clouded with sadness.

Noticing that faint shadow now, I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him tightly.

(I can guess a few reasons why.)

(...Though I don’t know exactly which one weighs on him most...)

As I clung to him, he seemed to sense my worries and pulled me into his arms as well.

Keith: "…You’re so warm, Emma."

Keith: "You’re not cold at all... and your heartbeat is steady."

Keith: "But that time... when you started acting at the port, you felt so cold to me."

Keith: "Even though I knew the blood was fake, it looked so real..."

Keith: "It forced me to imagine your death — vividly and painfully."

Feeling the strength in his embrace, I understood just how deeply my performance had affected him.

(...I really put him through a lot, didn’t I...)

(His anguish back then didn’t feel like acting at all.)

He hadn’t been able to eat properly, and sleep had eluded him.

Behind his fierce performance was the terrifying thought — what if I had actually died?

Emma: "Keith, you were against my plan until the very end, weren’t you?"

Emma: "It was dangerous, and even if it was only acting... you didn’t want me to pretend to die."

Emma: "But despite all that, you respected my decision in the end..."

Emma: "I’m sorry for pushing through with it anyway."

Keith: "Please, don’t apologize! If anything, I’m the one who should be apologizing."

Keith: "I couldn’t come up with any better plan than the one you proposed."

Keith: "If it had been just me, I probably would have returned to Jade without accomplishing anything."

Keith: "I wouldn’t have found the insider, nor could I have proven that the rumors about Jade's involvementwere false."

Keith: "Even now, I keep telling myself that meeting you made me not a failure... not a failure..."

Keith: "But it looks like I’m still the same as ever."

Emma: "…Prince Kagari said something similar too..."

Emma: "Keith, sometimes your humility just makes no sense."

(All I did was come up with the idea to fake my death and draw Prince Shiou out...)

(It was Keith who worked out all the fine details, planned for Prince Shiou noticing the ruse, and protected me from the assassins.)

(Everything went so well because of him... and yet he's blaming himself?)

Seeing Keith look so gloomy, I pushed him down onto the sofa.

Keith: "W-Whoa, Emma?"

He looked surprised as I straddled him, though his hands instinctively reached out to steady me so I wouldn’t fall.

Emma: "The fact that I’m here, alive, without so much as a scratch..."

Emma: "It’s all because you risked everything to protect me."

Emma: "Thank you so much, Keith."

Emma: "To me, Keith is..."

Emma: "The most reliable, wonderful, and handsome fiancé I could ever ask for."

Keith: "...."

Keith: "...Is that so."

Emma: "Eh?"

Keith: "Ah..."

His golden eyes shimmered, then a tear slipped down his cheek, vanishing into the fabric of the sofa.

Our eyes met in mutual surprise.

(W-wait... why is he crying...!)

Keith: "S-sorry! That’s not it!"

Keith: "I just... I got so carried away, and when you said that, I suddenly felt like I could let go..."

Keith: "I’m just... so relieved that nothing happened to you."

Keith: "And to know... that even after the mistakes I’ve made... you still love me..."

Keith: "...You even said I was cool, and now here I am, acting like this..."

His voice faded to a whisper toward the end.

(…)

Emma: "Keith... may I kiss you?"

Keith: "Eh? Ah... go ahead…?"

(Keith... I’m sorry.)

(...I won’t say it out loud — because if I apologize, Keith will just worry even more...)

(But still... I’m so sorry for causing you so much pain... and thank you, truly...)

I softly kissed the corner of his eye, as though to heal his wounded heart.

(My existence has the power to make Keith both happy... and deeply unhappy.)

(Realizing that again now — that undeniable truth...)

(I will never let him go.)

#ikemen prince #ikepri #keith howell #kagari amagase

23 notes · View notes

oneofthosecrazycatladies · 4 months ago

Note

What are your thoughts on DEI and how it’s implemented outside of the work environment, (school, every commute, etc)? I’d love to hear your opinion on it.

Well, as a disabled queer woman I might be biased here but I think giving minorities better opportunities is a good thing.

Also, as a historian, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that most of our institutions were built explicitly to discriminate against minorities of all kinds. When the Founders were discussing the constitution in the 1780s, Abigail Adams wrote to her husband, John Adams, urging him to include women (she famously said “remember the ladies”) and his response to her was basically oh you’re so funny obviously we can’t include women, don’t be ridiculous. From the 17th to the 19th centuries, numerous laws were passed explicitly to exclude free blacks from society. Don’t get me started on the way disabled people were institutionalized well into the 1980s. Or the actual ethnic cleaning of indigenous peoples.

And…I shouldn’t have to say this but apparently I do…there have never been laws (at least in the US) to oppress white men. Like, that has just never been a thing.

So the US claims to be a society built on the idea that all humans are created equal. But if you’re building your institutions to exclude 99% of people, that’s not equality. Which means, if you want the institutions to become more inclusive, you have to take action to encourage that inclusion.

If you own a store and you say okay only people with red hair can come inside my store and you set up cameras and monitors to make sure only people with red hair are coming into your store, then anyone who doesn’t have red hair just won’t even bother trying because what’s the point. But then one day, you decide, you know what, I change my mind, I want to let brunettes and blondes into my store. Except the brunettes and blondes know that you’ve previously only let in redheads so why should they bother coming to you now? So in order to get more blondes and brunettes you have to go out and find blondes and brunettes and say hey I’ll let you into my store now it’s fine.

That’s what DEI is. It’s realizing that the institutions were built to be unfair and trying to make them more fair, but also realizing that the people who have been shut out of these institutions need to be assured that they won’t be shut out anymore.

One problem that can happen when you start to free historically oppressed people is that sometimes people can over-correct and take it too far in the other direction. But the people who have over-corrected with DEI are largely in the minority.

But now, white supremacists, who just fundamentally don’t believe that any kind of diversity is ever a good thing, are trying to over-correct the over-correct and claim that DEI is somehow white oppression.

You asked my thoughts on DEI? Well, long story short, it’s hard for me to not think of it as an overall net positive. To give you a more personal example, I’m legally blind. I am not physically capable of reading a regular print paperback book like sighted people can. Does that make me stupid? No. I have a medical condition beyond my control and all I need is some special equipment and I can read all y’all under the table. I’m able to get that special equipment because of DEI initiatives.

Just because there are a few over-correcting bad apples doesn’t make the entire tree rotten.

“DEI” has become this weird buzzword, but let’s not forget that it’s actually not a word, it’s an acronym. Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion.

Diversity. Would you rather eat the same thing for every meal every single day for the rest of your life? Or do you like to switch it up every now and then and eat something different? Yeah? You like a little diversity in your diet?

Equity. Do you like pie? You know when someone makes a pie and they’re cutting it up to serve and everyone else gets a massive slice and you just get a little sliver. That’s not fair right! You should all get equal amounts of pie!

Inclusion. We all like chili don’t we? But chili without beans is just an abomination. You gotta include those beans or else it’s not really chili is it?

That’s my thoughts on DEI.

#ask #dei #diversity equity and inclusion

58 notes · View notes

fandomfloozy · 1 year ago

Text

Bittersweet Nothings

Pairing: Durge x Gortash, reader x Gortash

C/W: gn reader, redeemed! durge, platonic/romantic soulmates, sfw

~°•*~

It's just a glass of wine, you'd told yourself. What's the harm? You'd naively asked.

Having the newly appointed Archduke of Baldur's Gate set up in your camp was unprecedented enough, but to agree to join him in his tent for a spell was hardly appropriate. Especially now that over half the bottle had disappeared in no time at all.

You were hardly to blame, to be fair. He had a certain air about him that had drawn you in from the beginning. A comfortable familiarity with you that left you equal parts confused and amused. He was charming, as is his way. Which is why when he'd asked you to share a drink with him, the only response you could scrounge up was a shrug and a "What the hell, why not?"

Which left you here. Sprawled out on an assortment of cushions and floor mats, a slight heat in your face that spread from your cheeks to your neck, cackling at whatever sad attempt at comedy has just left Gortash's mouth.

"You're positively primeval," you laugh as you playfully push at his shoulder, which is lightly adorned with just a black dress shirt. His overcoat lay forgotten in the corner somewhere, shed about two glasses ago.

"Oh, come now," he grins slyly in response, face leaning against his hand as he lay facing you. "You always liked that one."

You can tell in the way he says it and in the moment that follows that he knows not what he said or how it came across. The words flowed out of him without thought, as if by nature.

And you're no fool. You've scrounged up enough clues and hints of a past alliance. Words written in your own hand, and some in his, that tease at something even deeper than that. A friendship. A bond. Maybe something more, if you look real close, if you squint.

It's circumstancial at best. Letters can be fabricated, feelings can change. One page of a book tells only a fragment of a story. Yet it's moments like these, where his facade cracks and his defenses drop, that cement a truth in your mind: you meant something to him. Mean something to him. And a lifetime ago--a gruesome, gory, painful lifetime ago--he might have meant something to you.

And you don't remember it.

He's too engrossed in pouring his next glass to notice your shift in mood. You almost feel sober, idly circling the rim of your glass with a finger.

And yet the alcohol definitely plays a part in loosening your tongue. "You know, in our travels," you begin. His gaze shifts to you again. "My group and I, we've come across many an expert who have taken it upon themselves to inform me of just how..." You struggle to find the words, yet he hangs off each one in rapt attention. "Mutilated my mind truly is. In a very literal sense." You don't gauge his reaction. The ichor of the liquid in your glass seems far more fascinating right now.

This subject matter makes you feel shy and exposed, and yet his response is nonchalant. "Yes, well, it should come as no surprise how thorough Orin was in her brutality." You can hear the roll in his eyes.

The mention of her name leaves a foul taste in your mouth and a tightness in your chest. "I've no doubt she took great pleasure in her work," you retort, emulating the exasperation in his tone. Your feelings pertaining to Orin are complicated, and this wasn't really the direction you intended to steer the conversation.

There's a hand at your chin and suddenly your eyes are level with his. "Dear assassin, take comfort in the fact that you were always her better." His expression is fierce. A sense of sort of... pride emanates from him. "She lies in the very bed she made and you alone stand victorious, as is your right." There's a finality in the way he says it. He sounds so sure, as if it was written in stone. As if he'd known this would always be the outcome.

You realize his finger and thumb linger on your chin. The exaggerated sense of warmth is dizzying. You blame the wine.

You attempt to refocus, smile with an exhale. "While I appreciate the sentiment, that's not what I was getting at."

"Speak then." He adjusts his frame. The hand remains in place, save for a rogue thumb that travels upward, brushing your bottom lip. "What troubles you?"

He asks in a cavalier sort of way, but his eyes carry an earnest. I'd move mountains to ease your troubles. It makes you hesitate before you continue. "Well, because of the sorry state I'm in." He chuckles at that. "It's entirely possible that... no amount of magic or healing could ever restore my memories. Return me to I was--"

He scrunches his brow quizzically. "I'm sure some way exists. We are set to conquer an elder brain, after all--"

"If your Grace would allow me to finish my thought." The words spill out of you with a laugh. Playful yet frustrated. So frustrated, in fact, that you've grabbed the hand that was at your chin. It's still in your grasp as you huff out a puff of air at the unperturbed face of Enver Gortash.

Your display apparently gives him no pause. He only raises a brow in amusement. He allows his hand to remain in your grip as he brings the other to his grin. He mimes zipping his lips shut and bows his head as a gesture to continue. You have the floor.

You sigh. "Were it possible... By some miracle or great power, to restore my mind to what it once was..." You look down and fiddle with his fingertips as you try to organize your thoughts. He lets you. "I'm not even sure that's something I'd want?" It comes out as a question. Rhetorical in the sense that you have no answer and Gortash doesn't offer one, true to his promise to let you continue uninterrupted. So you do.

"I'm free of my father. I've no concept of what it was like to submit to him fully, and I don't think I want to." The you that you hear about sounds nothing like the you you know. The you that was willing to watch the world burn--willing to be its last inhabitant, its last sacrifice to your god, your very blood--isn't you anymore. Everything you've heard has led you to believe the person you were was disturbed, deranged, unhinged. Who was that person beyond the madness? Was there one? "That part of me feels better off lost... Lest I lose my current self to it."

When you meet Gortash's eyes again, they're still on you, expectantly. His lips are sealed, determined to a fault to allow you to finish--somehow aware in the first place that you aren't yet.

He waits.

The bastard.

You bite the inside of your cheek. You sit up to your knees, now holding that hand so fiercely in both of yours. "I'm so certain of this. But..." Your brow furrows. "When one decides to leave their past behind, there are tradeoffs. One truly leaves everything behind them. Other aspects of my old life are simply lost to me. I know not who raised me up, I know not whether I was sweet as a child, I know not whether some trace of who I am existed in the person I once was." You bring his hand up to your forehead and shut your eyes as you confess. "And I know not who you are, Enver Gortash."

You either still have the floor or he doesn't know what to say. Either way you keep going.

"While I've come to respect you, and somewhat even trust you, no part of my mind remembers you."

You look down at him and search his eyes in desperation. The amusement in his face has softened into something else you can't quite place. He looks up at you, not having torn his gaze away.

You don't remember him.

"And yet, dear tyrant." You've known something from the moment you first met. "Some part of my soul knows you..." You exhale a laugh without humor.

"And I don't know what to make of that."

~°•*~

#bg3 #durgetash #enver gortash #bg3 gortash #gortash #the dark urge #dark urge #durge x gortash #gortash x durge #AAAAAAAHHHHH #HERE HAVE THIS #*throws my blurb at you like its a pipebomb*#HOPE YOU ENJOYED THANKS FOR READING THE TAGS IF UR DOWN HERE HAVE A FOREHEAD KISS MUAH 💋#~°•*my writing #reader x gortash #gortash x reader #~°•*enver #~°•*bg3 #~°•*durge

155 notes · View notes

heavenlycloud · 1 year ago

Text

all my thoughts, they're shaped like you: huh yunjin x fem! reader

request: i was wondering if you could write smth about yunjin and reader having a sleepover? it can be a smut or not js however you'd like <3

a/n: i decided to write this as sfw instead of smut just bc im...not confident in my smut writing abilities rn so i hope this will suffice! enjoy and thank you so much for requesting. *please note all pictures and videos are used for creative reference to give readers a visual of hair, makeup, clothes, shoes, etc. ONLY*

guilty was your first comeback in six months and by far your most successful since your debut four years ago. originally the song was to go to one of your seniors, but it was pushed your way when another caught his attention. the song was much more mature than the other songs you'd put out in the past which increased attention towards this new side of you as an artist. the past four weeks were filled with long schedules of music and variety show appearances, photoshoots, and too many fansigns to count. however, today was the last day of schedules before you got a two week long break to rest and recover.

you stood in front of your manager who was pressing you to take pictures for instagram before you got whisked away elsewhere. he smiled as you posed and the rest of your staff members made positive comments about you and your performance outfit. you didn't even bother settling back into your dressing room because not even two seconds later there was a knock at the door. you rushed over to open it and a small face peeked through as you beamed from ear to ear.

eunchae shyly greeted your staff members and you before she stepped back and onced you over with a gasp, "you're so pretty!" you reached forward and pulled her into a hug, "you're so precious oh my god." she giggled and led you down the hallway to the room where she films Eunchae's Star Diary. when you both got inside she motioned for you to sit down and she followed behind you.

for a moment there was silence after you introduced yourself before you and eunchae began laughing and you admitted in english, "i'm sorry i don't want to be awkward...it's this is just a little funny to me because we've never actually met." eunchae agreed and answered in korean, "yeah this is our first time meeting, but i feel like i know about you a lot because yunjin unnie talks about you all the time." similar to a professional she continued, "with your new comeback, can you tell us a little bit about the album and your favorite song?" you nodded and explained more professionally, "guilty is my first album since six months ago. it's also a different sound than what i've put out before. this time i wanted to focus on something that everyone can connect with."

eunchae looked at you with wide eyes and prompted you to continue so you added, "guilt is an emotion that everyone has to some extent or another. it's a feeling that has a negative connotation and that's something i wanted to change. of course singing about positive things is good, but i think singing about negative things and presenting them in a beautiful way is equally as important. more specifically, my single guilty’ is about a selfish love that hurts the other person. it’s not coming from my experience, but i used it as a way to define what love is and express it on stage.”

the younger girl looked at you and sighed, "everything you say sounds so smart." you laughed and shyly dismissed the complement out of habit before she asked you, "who was the first person to hear the single?" you side eyed her and she grinned because she already knew the answer but for the sake of her show you sighed, "huh yunjin of le sserafim." eunchae pointed and laughed at your facial expression and you playfully rolled your eyes but she shared happily, "yunjin unnie has been singing the song nonstop since it came out. when it dropped she was telling all of us in the dorm that she heard it first! she kept bragging that it was so good but didn't tell us any hints! but it was worth the wait because the comeback is incredible, unnie!" heat bloomed in your chest at the thought of yunjin listening to your music and bragging about how talented you were to those closest to her.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

the minute you got back into your apartment after your schedule all of your messages came rushing into your notifications. your best friends had blown up your phone all day which honestly wasn't new, but scrolling through 100+ messages was kinda annoying when you were tired. then, like clockwork your phone started ringing and you answered to see one of your best friends on your screen, "hey i don't know if you saw somi's texts or not but we're having a sleepover at your place tonight." immediately you responded, "who is we? you speak french now?" on the other line she laughed and said, "don't be like that y/n."

you whined, "aeri! i just finished promotions im TIRED! and why my place and not somi's?" aeri let out a small huff and said, "somi's apartment flooded like ten minutes ago so we can't stay there. you know the rest of us aren't allowed people to stay overni-" you cut her off immediately, "hold on it's not just you and somi?" aeri looked off to the side and bit her lip, "uh...so funny story..." before she could answer someone snatched her phone and continued, "jen is coming too." you spat out the water you were sipping, "WHY WOULD YOU INVITE YUNJIN?!" somi answered casually, not taking her eyes off of the road, "i thought you would've worked stuff out by now. besides it's kinda shitty if we have a sleepover and exclude one person. it's called a friend group for a reason, right?" you huffed, "yeah i guess..."

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

the friend group started just as you and giselle when she entered SM entertainment back in December of 2019. the two of you clicked immediately even though you were technically her senior, having debuted that past summer. along with her members, they were the only girls close to your age in the entire company so you were quick to befriend them as soon as you were allowed. months after meeting giselle, you met somi who debuted a month before you as a soloist. then you introduced the two and the three of you were a trio of best friends...until yunjin came into the picture.

you and yunjin were familiar with one another but you only met once at a music show when you were promoting at the same time. from there you introduced her to somi and aeri, and she was added into the friend group. once you added her into the small bunch of friends you all were complete, and dubbed, The Plastics, by fans.

for the most part everything was fine with you four except that there were times when it was hard to meet up because of busy schedules. however, you started trying to distance yourself a bit when you realized that you had a crush on yunjin. the cardinal rule of friend groups was don't date other people in the same group. despite aeri and somi swearing up and down to you that yunjin liked you back, you refused to feed into it. your best friends weren't liars but you just couldn't bring yourself to believe them for whatever reason. besides even if you confessed to yunjin you didn't think much would come of it besides a ruined friend group. so you decided that you were just going to continue trying to compartmentalize your feelings and gaslighting yourself into thinking you didn't like her.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

you ran to your room trying to get everything ready for your friends, the least you could do is have a clean apartment. the vaccuum drowned out the sounds of the city streets below your building as you dragged it across your area rug. you hummed along to oceanfromtheblue that blasted through your headphones, further muting the noise from the outside world. unbeknownst to you, yunjin had already entered your apartment. she got in using the 10 digit code on your door that she memorized just in case because that's what friends do...right?

a pair of hands gently caught your hips as you backed up with the vaccuum in hand making you scream and jump. you whipped around to see yunjin standing before you looking perfect as usual. she was only in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie with those ugg slippers she liked to leave in your apartment for when she visited you. even in a basic dressed down outfit she still looked like an angel with her red hair pulled into a messy bun with a few loose strands framing her face. the pair of glasses she wore sat low on her nose causing her to push them up before pulling you into a hug. she laughed and apologized, "y/n i'm sorry! i called out your name a few times i thought you would have heard me." you let out the breath you'd been holding and assured her, "no it's fine i shouldn't have had my headphones this loud..."

there was an awkward silence and her eyes found yours bringing out a pinkish hue to her cheeks that was only reserved for you. her hands remained on your hips and you brushed a piece of her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. the simple action sent butterflies straight to her stomach and made her catch her lip between her teeth. neither of you knew where this was headed but right before you two could figure it out, the front door swing open and aeri entered with somi, "HEY BITCHES- oh." the two of you jumped and yunjin inched away from you, "heyyyy!" somi motioned between the two of you, "did we just interrupt something or?" immediately you refused, "no we were just um... yeah anyways hey guys." you paused and realized the two let themselves in, "wait- how did you two get inside?" yunjin and your manager were the only two people who knew the password for your apartment so how did they manage to get in?"

somi pointed to her phone and said, "i wrote it down the last time yunjin and i were over. the real question is why does yunjin know it and we don't. i thought we were friends." the blonde placed her hands on her hips and pouted to which aeri added, "how do you even remember all those numbers anyways?" yunjin responded, "i memorized it after seeing y/n do it once. and it's not hard, i just remember important things." both aeri and somi shared a glance and you joked, "so basically i need to make a new passcode. got it." the three of them laughed and put their bags down so you could start your plans for the night.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

yunjin pulled out a vlogging camera from her bag and said, "i know we usually have a 'no work stuff' policy for our hangouts but i have to vlog and this is the only interesting thing i've done all week." your other friends started getting baking utensils and ingredients out of your pantry and cabinets while you preheated your oven.

the american idol stood in front of the camera and started speaking, "hi everyone! today i'm with my friends- and we're going to do the blind, mute, deaf challenge while cooking. y/n is being so kind to let us use her kitchen today!" you fake side eyed her and muttered, "you all showed up on my doorstep unannounced but okay." the three laughed and finished setting up the things you'd need.

since it was yunjin's vlog she decided how roles were split up and it was through rock paper scissors: aeri was deaf, somi and you were blind, yunjin was mute. for the sake of your kitchen and everyone's safety she decided to have two people who weren't allowed to speak. before starting the challenge yunjin explained, "so we already have the roles assigned. basically we are going to try to cook dinner together with our roles and we aren't allowed to switch or break character. so aeri is deaf- she already has her headphones on." she pointed the camera to aeri who was in her own world listening to some tyga song on blast, not paying attention to anyone else. yunjin continued, "somi and y/n are blind- wait do we have a blindfold?" she turned to you and you shook your head, "why would i have a blindfold? somi smirked and winked, "i have many blindfolds." yunjin slapped her arm and she laughed, "what?" you huffed in fake annoyance, "we should have made her one of the mute ones. yunjin finished explaining, "and i'm mute so i'm going to be silent because i didn't want to tape my face. anyways, aeri is the only one that can see the recipe and we have to follow her directions." you ended up finding two scarves in one of your drawers to tie around your and somi's heads and you all started the challenge.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

"OKAY! BOIL THE POT OF WATER!" aeri shouted loudly making you flinch at the sudden outburst. you reached your hands in front of you as you cautiously dug a pot out from your cabinet and placed it in somi's hands. the blonde started to slowly walk to your sink, hitting the front of it with a soft thud and a whine while the rest of you laughed. somi filled the pot up and gently walked it back with the help of yunjin before she turned on the stove. the rest of it went like this, yunjin slightly helping you while aeri screamed the directions to you all.

when it came to cutting the chicken somi backed away from the counter, "i don't wanna touch it ew." you muttered, "you big baby." aeri asked in confusion, "YOU SAID YOU HATE ME?" the three of you burst out laughing while aeri stood still confused, looking around then into yunjin's camera as if it would talk back to her. you stood in front of the cutting board with the raw chicken and grabbed the knife that was within reach. you thought aloud, "this is probably a bad idea having the blind one do this part of the challenge but...i have bandaids."

somi was busy trying to drain the pasta from the water with the help of aeri guiding her as yunjin nervously watched you handle the knife and raw meat. yunjin tensed as she watched you nearly cut your finger once and then placed a hand on your arm. this time you didn't jump at her touch and let her come behind you. her hands placed gently atop yours and you giggled before playfully asking, "oh my god what is this? so romantic." beside you somi and aeri pretended to gag, somi not even facing the right direction as she teased you. when you both finished cutting the meat, yunjin moved from behind you and immediately you missed her body pressed against yours.

the remainder of you all cooking was a hot mess. from aeri forgetting she was in charge of instructions to take mini dance breaks, to somi trying to spoon in pasta water into the sauce with a fork by accident, yunjin trying to mime out her questions about the recipe to aeri, and you walking smack into the open refrigerator door- the whole thing was a mess. but an entertaining one that fans would love to watch once it was uploaded. somehow by some miracle you all managed to make the food exactly how it was supposed to taste which paid off at the end.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

hours passed and aeri and somi had fallen asleep after crying their eyes out to the notebook that just finished playing. you poked aeri with your foot and her head lolled to the side limply making you and yunjin laugh. you pointed to your tv and asked, "did you like the movie?" the red aired woman nodded and mumbled quietly, "yeah, it was good. i understand the hype now but it was sad too. i love a happy ending but leading up to it was sad, you know?" you agreed and admitted, "i was mad when they made me watch it for the first time so you're better than me. all of that emotion just for me to get something kinda nice at the end, it was exhausting." she hummed in agreement and you both fell silent.

yunjin's hands brushed your hair gently, the softness of your silk press beneath her fingers was different from the way you usually wore it. unlike when most people touched your hair, you didn't pull away or dodge her hands running through the strands. instead you scooted closer to her and smiled when she began dutch braiding one of the sides on your head. the two of you basked in the quiet which was the first of it's kind tonight.

there was a small snag in your hair that caused you to almost whimper when her long fingers tugged at it. yunjin murmured an apology and pressed a gentle kiss to the spot before continuing. she then spoke up, "imagine just...forgetting who you are and everyone you love like that."

you didn't think before answering, "i almost did. when i left home and came here. i was around people that said i needed to leave my old life behind if i wanted to be successful here. i was naive and thought it was true, that my past would hold me back so i tried to let it all go. i only realized they were wrong after i was all alone." yunjin began braiding the other side of your head and asked, "so how'd you fix it?" you answered, "i met people who were like me and i made friends and talked to people. i tried to do things that reminded me of home, like being around you guys." yunjin finished your two braids and you turned around to see her smiling at you fondly. she could see the slight pain hidden behind your gaze as you recall one of the harder times in your life.

yunjin sighed and blurted out, "you smell like home." for a moment she froze and you pulled away and asked, "like new york? cuz that's not a complement if i smell like a new york street." yunjin laughed and answered nervously, "no you just...i don't know you're just- whenever i'm with you i feel at home." she moved down to the floor mattress you laid out earlier that night, knowing somi and aeri would be laid out on the couch like they are now.

you laid side by side as you told yunjin, "it feels like that with you too, like i'm back in the states just living without worries like now." yunjin bit her lip debating on if she wanted to do this now, but she caved into herself, "that's not what i meant but it's okay." you turned to face her, now laying on your side as you asked, "what did you mean then?"

yunjin felt her heart begin to race and she tried to brush it off, "no there's nothing." but you were determined to understand what she meant so you asked, "no, talk to me. what's going on in your head? tell me. i want to know, i want to know everything about you." of course yunjin knew that you weren't ever going to force her to speak, so she still had an out if she wanted to just not continue the conversation. however, she was tired doing this same dance with you where she almost admitted her feelings then ran away at the last minute. she knew that even if you didn't feel the same way that you wouldn't let that ruin the friendship you already have so she bit the bullet.

there was a pause then yunjin huffed and confessed "when i'm with you i feel safe, like i have nothing to worry about. i can just be myself and i know you'll never judge me or leave because i express myself the way i want to. whenever i'm not with you, you're still living in my head...all of my thoughts, they're shaped like you. i love you and i love being around you and being with you and i never want to leave your side which is why i try not to come too close because i can't risk fucking this up. but here i am telling you what i told myself i'd take to the grave so...just promise me if this screwed everything up and judging by your silence i think it did- just pretend it never happened and leave somi and aeri out of thi-" you refused to let her talk herself into thinking she ruined everything, "i love you too."

yunjin's breath caught in her throat and you repeated, "i love you too, huh yunjin. i love you so much and i love being around you and with you too." she sat up so she was upright then looked back down at you until you were sitting beside her. the small nightlight on your hallway outlet was the only thing allowing you to see her eyes locked on yours. you inched closer to her and brought your arms to rest on her shoulders while her hands were on your waist. her long fingernails scratched the ribbing of your tank top while your fingers twirled with a piece of her hair.

her forehead pressed against yours and you whispered, "what does this make us then?" yunjin shrugged and giggled which made you smile, "i dunno but we can figure it out together?" you asked, "yeah?" she nodded and you noticed how she eyed your two friends who were asleep tangled together yet half off the couch. she looked back at you and asked, "so when do we tell them?" you scrunched your nose and placed a gentle peck on yunjin's lips. the red haired woman paused then kissed you twice more, "who says we have to?" right when you pressed your lips against hers for the last time, a bright flash lit up your entire living room. you both looked over and aeri smacked somi's arm as she soft whisper yelled, "what part of NO FLASH did you not understand?" the two smiled as big as they could from ear to ear before yunjin let out a huff and sighed, "you all suck."

#kpop fanfic #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #kpop imagines #girl group fluff #girl group reactions #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #lesserafim reactions #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim scenarios #huh yunjin x reader #huh yunjin #aespa giselle #somi #wlw fanfic #wlw fluff #wlw kpop

348 notes · View notes