#rip far cry timeline

[lulu2992]

Thank ya for ya business! Contained in this simple packet is our heritage Moon Flower (Ipomoea alba) seeds. We have FAITH that when you plant these seeds in your little patch of earth you will be become entwined with our family. If ya ever find yourself in our part of Montana, come say “hello.” With Love, The Seed Family

#yesterday’s post reminded me I had this in my drafts #I once saw a comment that said ‘hey that one thing riel says at one point is a fc5 quote!’ #and some replies were like ‘oh that’s cool I didn’t notice!’ #and I was thinking ‘wait so you guys didn’t realize that EVERYTHING she says is a fc5 quote??’ #‘am I the weird one here??’ (yes) #(so weird I know some quotes were not 100% accurate) #far cry 6 #riel #lorenzo’s riel #my screenshots #far cry 6 screenshots #far cry 6 photo mode #photo mode #rip far cry timeline

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you want to turn back the clock and jungkook wants you to stay.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / word count: 5.8k

content/warnings: mistreatment of service workers / oc felt inappropriately touched by a customer (only mentioned in passing) / (oc works part-time in a restaurant) (then quits) / another dive into oc’s lore / allusion to death / grief grief grief / lots of crying :( / jk wants to move in together :") / mention of s*x (24/7=heaven?) / mention of period blood (they’re in diff contexts js to be clear lol) / u will get pissed and cry and laugh it’s fun <3

playlist! knees - iu ; chinese satellite - phoebe bridgers ; love wins all - iu

> in which masterlist

note: contains lil flashblacks from the giving up drabbles ^^ can be found in the timeline masterlist above this incase u haven’t read them and want to ^^ listen to love wins all when jungkook tells oc to wear their seatbelt (trust me). tried to encapsulate the epiphany of oh. everything’s going to be okay because i am loved when i’m at my lowest. as always reblogs & feedback are appreciated :") come chat!!

—

the rusty swing-set creaks as you unsteadily swing back and forth, staring lifelessly at your white socks and shoes stained with burnt orange. you look up to the sky but the moon and the stars are shrouded by the clouds. not even your favorite snack can poison your sadness with optimism. mouthful of bungeoppang, but you taste nothing, and every swallow only adds to the heaviness weighing on your chest.

your shift should be ending by now, which means you probably should be heading home, but your limbs have given up and refuses to move.

jungkook’s special ringtone ceaselessly disrupts the night scene’s quiet, but there’s no point in answering his calls when you know no words would come out of you.

“are you an imbecile?! you can’t understand basic instructions?!”

“ma’am, i’m so sorry. i’ll take it back and give you the right ord-”

“we’re fucking starving! move faster!”

you flinch as the bowl collides with the tiled floor, producing an ear-splitting sound that reverberates throughout the entire restaurant. you want to give the woman the benefit of the doubt and believe that she just shoved the bowl a little too harshly due to her frustration, but you have a hand over your mouth not due to shock, but the inexplicable pain of having your skin burnt by the piping hot soup… and she’s just… there.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! please understand. she’s just in a bad mood. she’s not- she’s not usually like this.”

you stand on your spot, frozen and speechless, as her husband profusely apologizes. you’re only jolted out from trance when you feel him wiping your legs with crumpled tissue papers, a little too farther up for your comfort. a fleeting tug-of-war ensues when you forcefully rip them away from his hands. you thank him despite not meaning it.

you grip the edge of your skirt as you sit on your heels, picking up the broken shards of glass scattered across the floor. a concerned co-worker swoops in with a broom and you instantly jump the opportunity to save yourself from the mortifying stares, mumbling another thank you as you take your leave.

“you said table six.”

“____, i’m sorry. that was a fault on my part.”

your manager observes your current state. his stare lingers at your feet.

“but they don’t know that! she literally burnt me!”

“look, we don’t have to take this too far. it couldn’t have been that hot. we can see you’re still walking.” his condescending tone makes you feel so small, but it fuels the anger inside of you. “you don’t have to pay for the damages, so let’s just put this behind us.”

you gasp in disbelief, and it borders on a laugh. you feel crazy. you can’t believe this is actually happening to you. he can’t be fucking serious.

the workers in the kitchen remain quiet as tension arises, minds a tornado of thoughts but mouths remaining shut in fear of getting on the bad side of their superior.

“well you…” you hastily strip off your apron, bunching it up into one big ball. “don’t have to pay me anymore, because i fucking quit! i hope this place burns down!”

and you ensure that it hits him on the face before you turn around to march out of the kitchen. on the way out of the restaurant, you nonchalantly grab a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting off the cap as you push the door open. you leave a wet trail behind your steps as you pour the cold water over your feet, a poor attempt to soothe the sharp pain of the injury.

you know it will be alright eventually; you will heal, but this… this is leaving a permanent scar on your dignity.

with a vexed groan, you retrieve your vibrating phone from your pocket.

LAST EVICTION NOTICE— you do not even bother reading the rest of the words that come after that.

“fuck!” you scream, throwing the bottle at the nearest wall, hands coming up to your hair to roughly pull in frustration. the heels of your palm dig into your eyes and your knees give way to the ground. “this is a nightmare.”

it dawns on you that you’ve finally arrived at a surface on the rock bottom that you so awfully dread. you find yourself standing here— infront of the atm machine, staring blankly at the large number displayed on the screen. this money isn’t yours. this didn’t come from your blood, sweat, and tears. it’s an amount that you’re supposed to accept as a payment for the eulogies you had to deliver. you swore you would never do this, but desperate times come when you’re forced to swallow your pride and allow it to rot you from the inside.

you’re once again faced with the ugly difference between surviving and living.

you grab the cash, hastily pushing them inside the pocket of your jacket as if you’re being burnt by them. you feel so nauseous; if only emptying your stomach would untangle its knots.

you don’t need anything from anyone. this is the first and the last time, you swear to yourself in place of your defeated oath.

you don’t want jungkook to see you like this, helpless and hollow, the antonym of the sun he willingly flew too close to. you look pathetic seeking for solace in an abandoned playground, unfortunate soul stuck at fifteen, in denial of the passage of time.

but there goes your lover running towards you, calling out your name, and you begin praying for yourself to disappear into thin air.

much to your disappointment, no wiser being grants your plea, and now you have a man tucking you in his safe embrace, uncaring of his knees being bruised by the ground.

does he need to surprise you when you least anticipate his presence?

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you! i went to pick you up at the restaurant but they told me that you quit! what happened?”

he pulls away, tenderly cupping your cheeks in his warm hands.

“was it your boss again? it’s him, isn’t it? what did he do?”

jungkook dies a little inside. your glassy eyes study his face, a clear picture of distress and concern, but at the same time, they seem so far away… like you’re not certain if you’re truly here.

you unconsciously squirm— your feet retract themselves, escaping underneath the swing; and your ankles twist, and twist, one hiding behind the other.

this doesn’t feel like being stripped naked.

you feel like you’re being turned inside out.

“what’s wrong? baby…” he utters sadly as tears drip from your lashes—one by one— even they are lost and hesitant.

your distant stare remains.

he doesn’t know if you’re even aware that you’re crying. it’s a frightening sight and he doesn’t know what else to do. he holds you in his arms but you feel too stiff for this to be comfortable. the time passes, and he lets it do so in silence.

he waits for you to come back to him.

he waits, and waits, and waits.

“jungkook… i want to go home.”

“okay. i’ll bring you home, baby.” he strokes your hair, breathing out in relief. “yours? or mine?”

only for his world to crumble into pieces.

“my mom…” you whisper, breathless, releasing yourself from his embrace. “i want to be with my mom.”

and only then does he see traces of emotions written on your face.

“i miss my mom so much.”

the crack of your voice gives him an opening to catch a glimpse of your heart, that is but a mosaic of broken parts. pain, grief, longing… the past two years haven’t been enough to make him well-acquainted with the anatomy of your afflictions. he has only witnessed you speak of your family with a proud and affectionate beam; old stories that spark the agent of joy. and despite knowing that you must’ve been battling your pain all these years all alone, he couldn’t bring himself to meddle with how you handled your grief. however, if he’s going to be completely truthful, he was terrified of this— of seeing you so unmoored and broken. his pain is no comparison. quite frankly, it is an insult to yours.

“i miss her so, so, so much. what do i do? i…” you sobs become uncontrollable, overcome by the weight of the world crashing down on you.

how is it possible that you feel nothing and too much at the same time? is what you would often ask before, but today you realize that your pain simply goes beyond what any of your human parts is able to fathom.

“this is too hard… it’s too tiring. i can’t- i can’t. i don’t want to be here anymore. i’m always so scared. i don’t know what i’m doing anym-”

“shh, shhh, baby- baby, breathe for me-”

“how did my life end up like this? i don’t understand! the world- it’s so cruel- i can’t stand it.”

jungkook wipes away your tears, but it’s no use. once you break down, it becomes impossible to remedy. nonetheless, that doesn’t deter your boyfriend from trying. he gathers your weeping and trembling vessel in an attempt to glue you back together, and in while doing so, he also wills himself to be strong for you.

“why did she have to go after them and leave me all alone here? am i not her child too?”

the obtuse questions you’ve been too afraid to ask out loud are being brought out in the open, spilling out from the torn seams of your soul as they’ve become too agonizing to annihilate over and over and over again.

you know the answer. you know she didn’t want to leave.

but you can’t help but to be angry at the fact that her heart gave up. you don’t understand why it had to happen and why you’re being grinded in the mouth of the world.

“i’m tired, i’m so tired. it’s so unfair… i need her with me too…”

jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, gently rocking your tangled bodies — a defense mechanism. you’re succumbing to defeat as if it’s been long overdue; even your voice is giving up on you.

if he had to imagine, the earth must have shared his current dread when it witnessed a solar eclipse for the first time, wired to assume the worst of perpetual darkness.

“jungkook…”

your weak fists desperately grasping at the fabric of his hoodie— the final thread you are hanging on. your words break into stutters and hiccups, salty tears slipping past your lips and stirring their bitter taste.

“i just want to go and be my mom’s child again.”

and he would truly fucking hate to try and get into the implication of your words, but if jungkook is going to be completely truthful— he is terrified beyond words can say. of this; of witnessing you slip away from everything you’ve ever known; of losing you. maybe he’s being selfish, but whatever it takes, he will make you stay.

he swallows the lump in his throat, hurriedly drying his eyes with his sleeve before facing you.

“listen to me, okay…?” his voice isn’t enough to pull your head from underwater; he lightly taps your cheek, even though it breaks his heart. “hey, hey, hey. look at me, baby- look at me.”

he searches for your eyes, begging them to focus on him. and it’s silly, what he does next, pressing a kiss to your lips as if this is a fairytale. but then it works— you tilt your head to subtly nuzzle your cheek against his palm— and he has to quickly recover from being taken aback. you effortlessly make a slave out of his heart.

“you never stopped being her child. and that will never happen! because even with them being gone, you haven’t stopped trying your best to be a good child and older sibling to them. i… i’m a witness to that. every single day. are you hearing me?”

can he get some sort of sign whether he is doing this right or wrong?

“you’re not alone here because you have me. you do know that, right?”

and you want to believe him… you do. but just like how you’re clinging onto him right now for dear life, you can’t forget how you had to beg him to stay.

“so stop working all these jobs! please, i’m begging you! it must also break your mom’s heart to see you torturing yourself like this. it’s not healthy! just focus on studying and let me take away your burdens, please?”

you stop breathing; your features soften like you’ve made it out of a nightmare.

“jungkook…”

“let’s live together, baby.” he sounds sure; he sounds steady, but the waver of his eyes beseeches you. “you’ve been so good to me, even when i didn’t deserve it. please… let me love you in my own way too.”

“stop. i told you… i’m still thinking about it.” you say meekly, avoiding his intense gaze. “i mean, let’s be honest. what would your family even think of me? your aunt already hates me. what if she uses this to prove that she was right about me and-”

“fuck what everyone else thinks. i couldn’t care less.”

the reminder of the disrespect you were subjected to because of him has him seething all over again. his jaw clenches in anger, and he feels obligated to take a deep breath so he can keep himself composed. growing up, he was always taught to be the bigger person, but he simply can’t implore himself to do that if it means turning a blind eye to your hurt.

“i won’t let her get away with that type of bullshit so don’t even bother thinking about her anymore. i’ll take care of it. we can’t let that get into our heads. right, baby? we said that?” his thumb caresses your cheek softly, and you hold on to his wrist, silent as you try to understand him through the thick haze clouding your mind. “i want to be with the person i love. how could that be so wrong?”

you slowly shake your head in response, a little hesitant.

“i won’t leave again. no matter how hard you push me away, i will stay within your reach.”

and here he is, kneeling infront of you, seeking to make true of what he solemnly vowed to you.

are you going to take this away from him? after everything you’ve gone through together?

he is the only thing you have left to lose.

“i love you.” you whisper, initiating the hug this time.

you’re holding him tight, like you don’t ever want to let go, and it brings jungkook to the brink of tears once more.

“i love you so much.”

he sweetly kisses your cheek, but when you pull away to give him that look, a wordless command for more, his lips finally meet yours for the first time in forty-eight hours. they slowly curve into a smile, not at all surprised that he’s tasting sugar. he’d go through hell and back to experience this kind of kiss one time, only to do it all over again.

“let’s go home?”

you blink at him cluelessly. you don’t know why he’s wearing a dimpled smile out of the blue, neither do you know which home he is referring to. nevertheless, you intertwine your fingers with his, choosing to save yourself from this forlorn neverland.

there’s just… one teeny… tiny problem…

“shit,” you mutter to yourself, freezing on your tracks.

“what’s wrong?”

you awkwardly glance down at your shoes, the origin of the squeaky sound that was impossible to be missed by your ears. after inspecting you from head to toe, a worried expression morphs on his face, and you can only show him a shy wince in response.

“i don’t want to make your car dirty.”

“baby…”

his chest feels so much heavier. he is nearly blinded with red. he wants to scream and be infuriated. what the fuck happened back there?

you merely shrug, sending him a forced smile. “do you still have those extra slippers?”

—

“jungkook, i can do it myself.”

he clicks his tongue, his hand around your calf gripping. “stay still!”

you watch him from the passenger seat, your legs dangling from the edge as he carefully takes off your shoes and socks, yet again kneeling on the ground.

“does it hurt a lot?”

“not… a lot.” you answer through gritted teeth.

perhaps the stinging never did quell; it was just pushed to the back of your mind when more painful things surfaced succeeding it.

“who did this to you, huh? i need to go back there and make them pay! what kind of decent human being would do that?!”

“a miserable woman in a miserable marriage.”

in her eyes, you may be naive and she, the decades old wiser— but who is the one with a lover who would wash not their dirty hands, but their feet that have walked a million miles?

“i feel bad for her.” you comment absentmindedly.

you’re too far deep in awe watching jungkook gingerly clean your bare feet with his hands and a bottle of cool water, doing what you were meant to do earlier, if only granted that you weren’t erupting with rage.

“____, you’re too nice.”

“you’re too nice.” you argue. “also, those shoes are hopeless. just throw them away.”

he glances at you with fondness, shaking his head as he softly pats you dry with a clean towel. you stifle a gasp. it’s no longer as bad as before, but your skin still feels warm and raw. this wasn’t in the job description. you decide that you can practice empathy, as well as your strong belief in karma, at the same time. at this moment, you hope that the universe is already crafting tricks up its sleeve, because you’re in a world of fucking pain.

“there you go. wait until we get off the car before you wear the slippers, alright? and you’re not allowed to wear tight shoes.”

he rises to his feet, not wasting the opportunity to steal a kiss.

“yeah, it was wildly uncomfortable.” you mumble against his lips, tugging at his collar to properly respond to his display of affection. “thank you.”

“wear your seatbelt.” his eyes shines with a glint of with uncontainable excitement. “we’re going home.”

—

you stir as jungkook gently shakes your body awake, his muffled voice gradually becoming clearer as you gain your consciousness.

“wake up, baby. we’re here.”

you tiredly rub off the sleep from your swollen eyes, discovering your boyfriend waiting for you where the door of the passenger seat should be.

“let’s get you some more rest.” he places a chaste kiss on your forehead, before standing aside to make way for you, offering his hand as a gentleman.

you must still be dreaming. you assumed he would bring you to his apartment, but you do not recognize this place. this is a different parking space, a different parking lot.

“um… t-this is…” you stumble on your words, feeling lost. “where are we?”

“home,” he smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and turn them into little crescent moons.

you must still be dreaming. the clock attached to a nearby pillar strikes midnight, and unbeknownst to you, a brand new day awaits beyond the dark and empty sky.

you were so thoroughly convinced that you’ve been living a life past the point of salvation… but life stands before you overflowing with hope and glowing with ardor.

you take his hand and allow him to whisk you away to another world.

—

this is beginning to feel real, jungkook thinks as he presses the elevator button. earlier’s excitement becomes interweaved with nervousness. he’s a little dizzy as the giant box ascends. if you feel his hand’s growing clamminess, you don’t show it, your clasp still as firm as before.

“you bought another house…”

“hmm, but this one is a secret.” a confession that is yours truly. “this one is ours.”

your eyes wordlessly speak with each other. neither of you imagined following your hearts could materialize your future plans to the present time. what goes beyond dreaming of beautiful things is still foreign to the both of you, but jungkook is here, willing to free fall with you.

the elevator dings.

he guides you through a well-lit hallway, to a door, and you pay close attention as he punches in the passcode— another set of numbers you ought to have memorized alongside birthdays and anniversaries and id numbers.

your heart races but everything else moves in slow motion. the door opens and you get swallowed by the need to remember every moment so vividly as if you’re reliving it.

the first time you set foot into your own apartment,, the empty space daunted you despite its modest dimensions. however, right now, your head is tracing half of a circle, from left to right, just to study this large space in its entirety— and all you can think about are the endless possibilities forming intimate images of a sanctuary in your head— a place where fears and sadness can co-exist with tenderness and joy.

beside you, jungkook patiently holds your hand.

“this one is ours…” you repeat the words, more so to convince yourself, and they drip with disbelief.

you follow his lead as he walks to the other half of the room, bare feet sliding across the floor.

“this is the living room, and the other side is the kitchen.”

he faces you with a wide grin, the kind he wears when he wants to tell you something he is proud of.

“i was thinking that if we get a big television bolted on the wall…”

he gestures to the blank canvas, letting go of your hand to draw an invisible rectangle on the air with his arms fully outstretched.

“then we can easily watch even from the kitchen.”

he puffs up his chest, side-eyeing you expectantly.

“genius, right?”

“and greedy.” you blink. “i don’t think that’s safe to do while you’re cooking.”

“but i’ll be very, very careful!”

“that’s the bare minimum when you’re holding a knife.”

“okay! i look forward to arguing with you about that on a different day!”

his enthusiasm doesn’t waver. in fact, it is fueled. how could it not? when you’re starting to sound exactly like a couple who lives together?

he captures your wrist and tugs you towards the other side of the room, but you pull him back with a noise of protest.

“are we not going to address…” you hang on to your words, eyes wandering to the floor where there are signs of living. “whatever is going on here?”

a single mattress with a single pillow; a folded blanket neatly sitting on top of it. surrounding them are bottles of water, a laptop, a speaker, and a basket of what you assume are skincare products.

“i’ve been sleeping here lately…”

“i can see that.”

“i didn’t want to buy furnitures yet while you haven’t given me an answer… i just thought that if we’re living together, then we should decide on those things as a couple.”

…he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…”

his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh.

“going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

jungkook feels your stare. oblivious of your thoughts reigning chaos, he tilts his head in question.

how long has he been planning this?

“you okay?”

you blink away the tears brimming your eyes. you shake your head, clinging to his arm. “where were you taking me?”

“this is the kitchen!”

a smile of contentment graces your lips. you’re guilty of admiring the pure, unadulterated joy on jungkook’s face instead of what he is passionately endorsing to you.

“this is the fridge!” he presents to you, swinging the door open. “but there’s nothing inside.”

“what are you saying? there is something.”

the two of you peer at the green can of soda, chilsung cider, left at a far corner. the refrigerator light casts over your curious faces.

“oh, that’s still there?”

the animated sound of your giggles prompts him to look at you, and he couldn’t be more glad to be laughing with you again, bellies aching at the same time.

“do you want it?”

“it’s not peach.”

“let’s move on then!”

there are cups of ramyeon and packs of dried seaweed on the countertop, the photo of his dinner that he sent last night still vivid in your memory. your hand daintily brushes across the white marble, stealing a feel as jungkook drags you to a new space.

“this is the second kitchen and laundry room!”

he waits for a reaction as you survey the room and its overhead cabinets.

“it’s not supposed to be the pantry…? eh, you know what? cooking and doing laundry are more of your thing so you can have them however you want.”

you turn on your heel to walk away, and jungkook follows behind you, celebrating his victory by punching the air and whisper-shouting a yeah!

“what’s here?”

you reach another hallway beside the living room.

“what’s here?” he zooms past you to open a door. “bathroom. there’s a bathtub! but i still need to install grip bars so no one will slip.”

he needs to stop saying things that make you want to make him your husband on the spot.

“and we have my favorite part! the master bedroom, of course!” he swings the door open on the other side. “where else would we spend the most time in?”

“wow, really? i thought you were also endorsing the living room as the bedroom.” you jokingly quirk an eyebrow.

“nonsense!” he cheekily chides you. “you deserve better than that.”

you take a step, peeking inside the empty room that you estimate to be as twice as larger than yours. you can’t say that you care so much about its size, because behind the white curtains, you reel at the prospect of the natural light shining over your face every time you wake up. your mornings have been gloomy since you arrived at seoul four years ago.

he sneaks his arms around your waist, your back resting against his chest, and your being feels so light you might just begin floating when he lets go.

“let’s stay like this for a while.”

“okay,” he puts his chin on top of your shoulder, his soft smile becoming permanent.

the two of you stand at the bedroom’s doorway; the cusp of what could be your entire lives.

“what’s that other room?”

“which one?”

“i don’t know. i see it from the side of my eye.”

he cackles at your humorous nonchalance. “i have more to show you. there’s a guest room… if we decide it to be.”

“cute. i have somewhere else to sleep when i’m mad at you.”

“that’s fine,” he replies after a beat of silence. “at least i’d know where to find you.”

“don’t make me change my mind.”

he cries out your name childishly, burying his face by the crook of your neck. he hugs you tighter. he wants to sleep every night drowning in the sweet scent of your hair. if he had to choose, it would be the most peaceful way to go.

“we have a walk-in closet too!”

“i expected nothing less.” you giggle, not a stranger to his lifestyle. “what’s exciting is that we can finally have a big bed.”

“but i like our small beds.”

“cuddling isn’t all that fun during the summer. trust me, you’d eventually want space.”

“nuh-uh! that’s what aircons are for!”

you roll your eyes at his persistence. “then why did you choose such a huge apartment if you wanted a small bed?”

“so we can have all the space to slow-dance to love songs.”

jungkook, ever the charmer. the butterflies in your stomach come alive beneath his embrace.

“why are you suddenly quiet?” he laughs. “was that too cheesy?”

“no!”

“really?” he spins you around, and heat creeps to your cheeks when he leans in so close that you can perfectly distinguish the brown in his eyes. “so have you given it more thought?”

“given what more thought?”

“there’s nothing to be scared of. it’s only the two of us here, see?” he tells you like overeager puppy. “will you move in with me?”

if this is a dream, you wish to never wake up from it. to have a person care for you this deeply and unconditionally, you want to believe that you have done something right to deserve it.

“i just don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

his eyebrows knit together in defense. “what does that mean?”

“the thing is… yeah, sex 24/7 and cuddling and having first times together, that sounds amazing and all… but living with me would probably drive you crazy.”

a tired yawn almost interrupts the end of your sentence, and you cover your face out of courtesy. you sniffle and wipe your teary eyes with the back of your hand.

“i’ve lived on my own for so long. i’m messy and clumsy and i’m used to having everything my way… i mean… i’m willing to compromise, but i can’t promise i won’t be insufferable as hell about it.”

“ah, seriously! you scared me for nothing!” he exclaims, throwing his head back with a groan. “baby, i’ve been living with six other men for the past decade. you know that there was a time when we even slept together in one small room. can you imagine how that must’ve been like for a bunch of teenage boys…? you? messy? think about it again. living with you can’t possibly get worse than that. you don’t have to worry about me! really, i can take it! watch me!”

“but i bleed every month.”

“i’m a man. seeing a little blood doesn’t faze me.”

you make a face. “it’s actually a lot.”

“yah, why are you acting like we haven’t been together for two years?”

“it’s different living together!”

“it’s only natural! i don’t care!”

a noise of complaint bubbles in your throat when he shakes you by your shoulders, coaxing you with an whiny “please baby.”

your chest deflates in defeat. “sure, i guess… as long as we have the big bed, and the slow-dancing-”

“done!” he doesn’t waste his breath, not keen on wasting this opportunity. “anything you want, you have it!”

you narrow your eyes. “and i’ll keep my tutoring job.”

“will you punch the next guy that insists you study at his dorm for me?”

“or i can just keep saying no firmly, baby boy.”

and with that pet name, he instantly folds. “okay.”

“okay?”

“okay, since that’s the only one that you genuinely like.”

“you-” your teeth unconsciously finds your bottom lip to dig into, and you inhale sharply. “…you really love me, don’t you?”

suddenly, you’re raising your voice and waving your hands in the air. you’re feeling too many emotions at once; it’s like when you mix all the colors in a palette and end up creating black. you’re angry and happy and you may be fucking crying again.

“you were just picking up speakers one night and a pretty stranger offers you some boring food and now you want to be stuck with me forever?”

your fist throws a restrained punch to his chest, shoving him backwards.

“oh my god, you’re so stupid!”

jungkook finds this too amusing, tries to hide that he is enjoying this but a smirk is plastered on his face.

“you are loved by so many,” he brushes away the hair that has fallen over your eyes. he tucks them behind you ears and tenderly holds your face in his warm hands. “but i’m confident that i love you the most.”

you are the muse in his dreams. your perfume clings to his clothes. you make him the happiest man on the planet and your pain torments him. what is this, if not love?

“and if that makes me the stupid one? then so be it.”

“when did it become a competition?”

“since you got yourself a competitive boyfriend!”

“okay, fine! let’s make it my fault!”

you throw your arms around his neck, peppering kisses all over his face until he’s an uncontainable giggling mess.

“i’m drowning in kisses! nobody help!”

and you hope you’re hugging him close enough that he can feel the love and gratitude flowing through your veins. your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh— tranquility triumphs over chaos.

“are you falling asleep standing up again?”

“no!” you blatantly lie, drawing back with innocence masking your drowsiness. “we still need to go online shopping!”

“what are we buying?”

your face lights up. “appliances first?”

“appliances?” he cheerfully says. “sure! let’s get you new shoes too!”

as he gets dragged to the living room where his laptop is, he mumbles something with an enamored expression. “i should keep working hard.”

—

“yah, why are looking at me like that?” jungkook chuckles upon feeling your poorly concealed stare, diverting his attention away from the laptop over his stomach. “i’m the real deal. the tv is over there, on the screen.”

“just because…”

you snuggle closer to his side, heart fluttering when his arm that is your pillow moves to also hold you. you don’t really mind a small bed. this is the most favorable consequence a nuisance could have.

“i feel sorry.”

“sorry? for what?”

“because i made you sad, didn’t i? i hate that so much.” you sniffle, hand coming up to pat his cheek affectionately. “i know it must be hard for you too.”

“you’re the one who’s in a lot of pain.” he means to firmly speak, but the tremble of his voice rudely refuses to cooperate. “how could you even think of me feeling sad?”

“because i love you. of course i always think of you.” you argue, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “i can’t do that now?”

he sighs. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

a kiss is planted on your forehead— tender and cherishing.

“let’s be happy, baby.”

the sharp edges of jungkook’s fears are eroded in a way. in a universe that relentlessly challenges you to be optimistic, your heart that is well-versed in loving continues to rise above it all.

you echo his words wistfully. “let’s be happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

[envy-of-the-apple]

That what if when ms. moon already has a family but has to leave because of him is so HEARTBREAKING. Imagine moving on from a tramatic situation, meeting the love of your life, having a wonderful kid for all that to just get squashed in a instant. That literally had me about to tear up but imagine her kid was a bit older lets say like 10 (i know the math doesnt add up well with the timeline but its a what if)and then she just has to leave, that alone would greatly negatively impact the kid, just leaving a lasting mark. Maybe the kid would remember gojo’s face and resent him for the rest of their life.

The husband thing is equally as sad because I imagine ms.moon as shes about to leave crying and whispering how much she loves him and that shes so sorry. (Bonus heartbreak points they all breakdown as shes about to leave and she cant even hug or kiss them goodbye because shes being watched). After this incident ms.moon’s pervious family completes spiral down the drain and moon’s mental state goes down the drain with it

In conclusion amazing story but that shit was sad as fuck but I still eat it up with silverware and all

(merging multiple SEM asks cuz i feel so guilty for clogging up ppls dashes lmao)

ughhhh anytime kids are involved it just gets way more depressing, right? It think age 8-10 is like the worst time for this to this to happen because the kid can understand little, but not enough to get the whole picture.

The kid knows that their mom is leaving, but they aren't seeing the wavering tears in Ms.moon's eyes, the shaky hands, as you hug them for the last time. All that they can see is the fancy new car your new lover sits in. The grand ring that sits on your finger. Yeah, your kid will hate gojo for ripping apart your family.

But they'll hate you more, considering you're running off with a man who has more money than their father.

I think the only upside is that gojo might not bat an eye if you send money back to your family, keeping them comfortable. With enough pleading, he might pull a few string to get your kid into a good school. With your indirect help, your kid will have the best education and prosperity. Them resenting you is a pretty small price to pay, right?

in the fic, the case took about three weeks, so it took three weeks for gojo to just snap.

He would definetly try to toy with ms.moon for as long as he can. Despite claiming that he forgave ms.moon, he does carry a tiny bit of resentment. It's kind of a punishment, in that sense.

And honestly the moment he figures out you who are, I doubt you'd have a chance to run anymore. The reason why Ms.moon was able to 'get away' the first time was because gojo was still a teenager, hier of the gojo conglomerate, but still not powerful yet. Now, he has tons of resources available for him. You're not getting away lmao, I think that's why he's so much at ease this time around.

I never really considered the family's response. their reactions is something I'm not really interested in exploring. i don't think they got any characterization other than 'housewife mom' and 'dad who works'. I don't really think ms.moon would even mention gojo's torment to them. It'd be embarrassing, knowing that some kid the same age as you is just lording over your life, right? I did mention that Gojo confronts your family in EKM, but I don't like that addition now, so I'm retconning it. I feel like they'd find out just like everyone else did: From the media. Everyone in your little town knew who the Gojo was, but the fact that their kid is getting married to one of them has so be surprising.

But then again, not something im interested in exploring

If Gojo had managed to find Ms. Moon before, things would certainly have been much different. The gojo now has 'cooled down' and is far less volatile. If they had met again, if they were in their early twenties....things would not be much different from his high school counterpart.

#SEM #dark content #yandere jjk #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #yandere gojo satoru

[nobodyfamousposts]

Chloe’s Lament: Ripping Apart

Chloe’s attempts to improve her situation…didn’t work out, to say the least.

Mostly because in her mind, improving things for herself had to involve tearing down others to build up herself by comparison. Something she was easily able to do in the previous world when she was the ‘Princess of Paris’ with the power of her father and her social status to push her demands.

Here…she didn’t have that. At all. Which to Chloe’s ever-growing frustration, made her efforts entirely uphill battles.

She didn’t even have the Ladybug Miraculous to either set things right or to use to her advantage. She didn’t know who the new Ladybug or sidekick were, either. And unfortunately for her, her disregard for people unless she needed something immediately meant that she hadn’t paid attention to the old man Hawk Moth was attacking and thus didn’t know where to start looking for the Guardian or the Miracle Box to at least get the Bee again. Even worse, she hadn’t thought to bother with Hawk Moth or his sidekick once they had been stung, meaning she was just as clueless as everyone else was on the villain’s identity, so she couldn’t try to target him for his Miraculous either!

What she did have, however, was future knowledge of events—or at least what she bothered to notice outside of her own activities in the previous timeline. And one in particular stood out the most:

The hat contest.

Dupain-Cheng was still very much a fashion enthusiast despite the changes in this reality. That meant if nothing else, she would still take part in the contest once it came around.

And Chloe knew it would. She even checked to make sure! Even if Adrien despised her, she was still his ‘friend’ as far as Gabriel was concerned. Thus, she was still allowed to visit the Agreste Mansion. Sure, she had to make an appointment and didn’t have as much freedom to go about as she pleased, but she was able to slip away and confirm Gabriel’s intention to hold the contest.

So that meant she already knew what was coming! And with her foreknowledge, she was sure to win!

The plan was simple: recreate the famous feather derby hat for the contest before Marinette could. 

Without the signature this time.

This way, when the would-be designer tried to reveal Chloe as the thief, Chloe would have the upper hand. With no signature to prove Marinette’s claim and more than enough time to build proof that she had created the design first, Chloe would succeed in gaining fame and simultaneously crush Marinette’s dreams of being a professional designer. She would be branded as a cheater and blacklisted from any further design competitions. Gabriel would certainly never trust her again. And Adrien—poor Adrien would obviously need Chloe’s shoulder to cry on once he learned that Miss Perfect Marinette was only using him!

But as it turned out, there were three problems with this plan that Chloe had not accounted for…

Originally, Chloe was able to send Marinette’s hat design sketch to a professional hat maker to bring to life within the deadline.

This time, Chloe had neither the influence nor the funds to get any decent professional to make her design. Her attempts to use her mother’s channels didn’t work either when she couldn’t replicate the original design for them to use as a base.

“They’re feathers! What’s so complicated about it?!”

She also didn’t have the original sketch this go around.

And her less than eloquent efforts to explain the appearance, make, or materials of the desired hat to the interns only got everyone involved both frustrated enough to set off an argument that quickly got her mother’s attention.

Audrey Bourgeois was still very much the famed Style Queen and had no patience for Chloe or her tantrums. And without Andre’s position as Mayor or hotel owner to at least make him a business associate that could exert influence, it wasn’t like Chloe was in a position to make demands. And with only so much time to Paris Fashion Week and not to mention the other shows in the meantime, Audrey didn’t have the people or the patience to spare.

Audrey promptly told her to leave the workers alone unless she had something revolutionary. And despite her insistence to the contrary, a half-formed idea of a hat made with feathers of all things did not count.

As such, there was no one Chloe could get to make the hat for her.

This meant that if she wanted to create this hat and crush Marinette, she would have to make it herself.

Which led to the second problem with Chloe’s plan: for all that she prided herself in knowing and wearing fashion, she had no idea how to actually make it.

Sure, Chloe had a head start on the contest, but that was a very limited advantage for someone with little to no experience in sewing and an unwillingness to learn. Instead of taking the time to plot out a process, figure appropriate fabric, and learn the steps to make a hat, Chloe decided to jump into trying to just make the hat from her memory.

It couldn’t be that hard, right?

As such, by the time the competition actually started, what Chloe had was not so much a hat as…

“What is that? A gaudy balloon?”

“It looks like someone tarred and feathered a plastic bag.”

“I thought it was a deflated football?”

Yeah…that.

It was a sad-looking thing that could hardly be called a hat. Sunken and lumpy with a few feathers sticking out in odd directions. Chloe’s attempts to make her hat by hand resulted in a complete mess, and she had only a number of burns from the hot glue gun and bandages over her fingers from pricking herself to show for it.

“It’s…definitely unique.” Bustier said, clearly trying to be supportive.

Okay. Fine. So her hat was a failure. But she had wasted no effort in building proof that it at least was solely her creation. She could at least still get Marinette on theft of the idea. Maybe she could even claim sabotage if she spins it well enough!

And maybe she could have, except that there was still the final problem with her plan…

She had been assuming all this time that Marinette would be entering the contest with the same hat as before. That she would experience the same lack of inspiration and go to the same place and thus gain the same idea to enter into the contest.

All of which were very vital steps that Marinette would have to go through to reach the desired outcome Chloe had intended to achieve. All were steps that Chloe could not ensure Marinette would follow.

…all were steps which would be completely pointless when Marinette didn’t even compete.

“Wait—what is she doing in the stands?!” Chloe demanded, pointing to Marinette in outrage.

Marinette, for her part, had been sitting in the stands with a notebook in hand and surveying the various entries. She had been taking notes or drawing or who knew what until she looked up in confusion at the yelling.

“Chill out, Chloe. It’s an open contest.” Nino said, frowning at her.

“Yeah. People are allowed to watch.” Alix added.

“No!” Chloe shook her head furiously. She spun on Marinette. “I mean why are you THERE instead of HERE? It’s a hat competition! Aren’t you supposed to be competing?! Where is your entry?!” She demanded.

Marinette blinked in surprise.

“Well, I’m not competing. I’m just here to cheer the others on. And maybe observe. The officials said it was okay.”

And just like that, all of Chloe’s less than carefully laid plans were thrown out the window.

“What do you MEAN you’re not competing?!”

Because Marinette HAD to be competing! That was the entire point of Chloe even wasting her time with this stupid contest!

Marinette shook her head. “I’m friends with Adrien, and he’s the son of the man holding the contest. And the one who will be modeling the hat. While I don’t doubt Mr. Agreste would be impartial, there are rules against this sort of thing for a reason. It would reflect poorly on his integrity. And I don’t want people to question anything I create because of any potential bias.”

But…

That…

That was—!

“Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

What was even the point of having connections if you didn’t use them? What kind of socialite was Dupain-Cheng supposed to be, anyway?! It was like she didn’t even know anything!

Marinette was an idiot! She had this amazing position and the world at her fingertips and she couldn’t even use it right!

Chloe stormed out of the auditorium, ignoring the voices and attempts to call her back.

It was…

That was so…

It wasn’t fair!

Marinette was just being lazy! Not using her position or appreciating what it gives her! Not doing anything to prove herself to anyone and show just why she deserved her role! And yet everyone just loved her anyway!

And that…that was the worst part!

Previously, Chloe had to fight tooth and nail just to get people to so much as acknowledge her greatness. She had stayed on top of trends, learned how to navigate the world of the elite, and dealt with anyone and everyone to show why she was not one to cross. She showed why being the “Mayor’s Daughter” was such a pivotal role and why she most deserved it. She had learned to take advantage of any mistake to use to her own ends and end up on top. From Daughter of the Mayor to Queen Bee to Miracle Queen, Chloe had earned her kingdom.

And yet Marinette Dupain-Cheng…she wasn’t doing any of that! She was rich and didn’t use it. She had the power of the Mayor’s Daughter and she didn’t defend it.

She…she was doing nothing and people loved her.

It wasn’t fair!

It wasn’t FAIR!

It wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair 

IT WASN’T—

“Chloe?”

Chloe jerked up at the voice and immediately wiped her eyes.

Bad enough her plan had been such a failure, she didn’t need people knowing she was crying over it, too. She had nothing left in this world but her dignity. She couldn’t be seen as weak to anyone.

Even if it was Bustier.

“Chloe, I’m sorry. Were you upset?” The teacher asked as she approached cautiously.

“No.” She denied immediately. Because she wasn’t upset! That would suggest her plans had gone completely wrong. And they hadn’t! Because she hadn’t lost yet! She could still find some way to turn things around!

“Chloe, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Chloe refused to look at her.

It wasn’t like Bustier could understand. It was more than just the hat. It was more than a single contest. How could she even begin to explain it all? Everything she’d had? Everything she’d lost?

Bustier—in true ignorance, smiled kindly and rested a hand on Chloe’s shoulder.

“Your hat was your first attempt, wasn’t it? It clearly had a lot of effort put into it.” She said, soothingly. “I think I could see what you were trying to do with the design. You must have felt rushed with the limited time to work with.”

The words didn’t help. They did the exact opposite of help. Because Chloe had known the contest was coming. She’d had more time than anyone to put her entry together. And she still failed.

“With a bit more practice, it would have been a very beautiful hat. I’m sure it would have won.”

It would have won. In another world, it did win. She hadn’t expected it to be so hard to put a hat together. Why was it so hard?

“Oh! Here’s an idea!”

Chloe blinked as Bustier clapped her hands together, smiling brightly at the sudden thought.

“If you’re interested in fashion, maybe we can ask Marinette can help you?” 

And.

Chloe.

Froze.

“It’s hard when you’re first starting out and trying something new—”

It was like she was underwater. Bustier’s words washed over her, but she could barely hear them. Just sound. Just noise. Somewhere above her but its meaning unable to reach her.

“—maybe with a bit of guidance, you can make your hat even better—”

It was like she was falling. No ground beneath her—no stability. Free falling, but fully aware of her own weight dragging her ever downward, not knowing just how far the hole went…

Chloe gripped her creation harshly. Her ugly, pathetic imitation of a masterpiece that even her mother had praised.

“—Marinette loves fashion and knows a lot—”

Marinette must have cheated. There was no way she could do something like that in a few hours without help!

Neither of them noticed as the seams began to unravel and tear in the force of Chloe’s hold.

“—perhaps what you need is a mentor?”

Stretch.

“—volunteer to tutor you—”

Pull.

“—very talented—”

Unraveling.

“—a lot of love to give—”

Unraveling apart.

“—always willing to lend a hand—”

Just like her world.

“—I’m sure she’d be happy to help you improve—”

Just like her life.

“—don’t we try to ask her? I can even go with you and—”

Until it all ripped apart—

“SHUT UP!”

Bustier jerked back in shock at the outburst. She was actually acting as though Chloe had hit her or something—which was ridiculous! Because Chloe was the one in pain right now and nobody would see or try to help her!

“I’m sick of hearing about Dupain-Cheng and how special she is! I don’t need her help! I don’t need anything from her!”

Her teacher frowned, looking confused. Like she didn’t understand. Because she couldn’t see it.

No one could see it!

“Chloe, what are you—”

“She’s a thief!” Chloe yelled. “She knows what she’s doing! I’ll bet she planned this! She must have!”

“What are you talking about?”

She stomped her foot in rage. “This isn’t hers! None of this is hers! She only has it this good because she stole it from me first!”

“Chloe, you’re not making any sense!”

“I didn’t Wish big enough the first time! Why did I even bother with taking everything from her? I should have just Wished for her to disappear!”

“Chloe!”

But she just stormed away.

Out of the hall. Out of the building. Out of the school altogether.

But no amount of walking would take her out of this life she’d Wished herself in to.

All she left behind were the torn remains of an amateurish hat and fragments of her idealized hopes that were just as broken as her plan for revenge.

The only witnesses were her own teacher.

…and a classmate who had seen the whole thing.

#ml fic #chloe's lament #lament series #chloe salt #caline bustier #marinette dupain cheng

[yanderederee]

Nightmares

It’s October 31st, therefore my moodiness made me write it!! I hope this is okay, I’m just sad all over again♡ final timeline hauntings.

It was that same dream again. No, calling it a dream would be too nice. It was anything but.

It was dreadful, and it felt so, so real…

It was daylight, broad daylight. You were running, even when you felt your lungs burning. You couldn’t stop. You were already too late.

Just as your rounded the corner into the construction zone, your stomach fell into a pit. Everything was moving so slowly.

Boys of black and white uniform scattered the area. Atop a bleeding Kazutora was Mikey, ramming his fists over and over into his face. Death wouldn’t be far at this rate. Yet amongst the onlookers, a bleeding Baji hobbled over.

The exact words were deaf to your ears.

A knife, raised high in the air.

“You won’t be the one who kills me.”

And with a sharp stab, into his own gut, Baji’s expression twisted with sickening pain, yet somehow still grinning. As though to say it was all alright.

The late October weather did nothing to ease the chill that froze your being still. How did this happen? Why was this happening?

“Keisuke!” You screamed with everything living inside you.

“Baji!!” Chifuyu yelled in unison, sprinting to his friends side. Unable to get in close, you felt as though you were a ghost looming over Takemichi’s form, looking on in horror.

Baji’s dying words were left with them, they were his whole world, his treasure. You couldn’t deny him that. Yet when his blurry eyes wondered to you again, his expression was unreadable. Was he happy to see you for the last time? Was he upset because you saw him like this? Could he even tell it was you?

“I’m starting to hallucinate shit.” He chuckled when the tears ran down his face. “Kei!” You yelled, and fell to your knees, crawling to his limo form. “Please… don’t-“ you sobbed out, the tears you held back were unstoppable now.

“Not a hallucination, huh…” he sighed, and reached his hand out for you. Quickly, you took it into your own. He was so cold.

“Y/n… I’m sorry.”

And that was it. All that were was of Baji left. His final words, before all was no more.

A final gutteral scream deafened all else around you, hunching in on yourself with Baji’s cold dead hand in yours.

—-just like that, you would awake to reality, the same scream ripping the silence around you.

And suddenly, you realized. You were awake. A dream? A memory, right? It felt so real! But- it wasn’t, right?

“What the fuck!” Screamed a familiar voice.

Looking around for your new surroundings, you realize you were in a familiar bedroom too, Baji’s room. Laying by your lonesome in his barely made bed. And sitting along the floor, your study materials scattered all around, Baji’s wide eye expression started back at you.

“What the hell?! What was all that about?!” He yelled back, clearly startled.

What?

Oh, that’s right, it was a dream.

No, a nightmare.

“You…” you croaked softly.

“You’re alive..!” You couldn’t help as you cried out again, welled up tears falling helplessly. In the same movement, you jumped from the bed, and rammed your entire body into his own.

“What the hells the matter with you?! No shit I’m alive!” Baji coughed in reply. Gently, he ran his hand flat and firm against your back, once he realized you were genuinely crying.

You held him so tightly against you, with every push of strength in you, you hugged all the life that was Baji Keisuke.

“I was so scared you really- t-that you really died!” You sobbed into his chest, weakly throwing your fist at his chest.

“W-what day is it?” You asked, wiping yourself as best you could before starting up into Baji’s eyes, wide and worried. “Uh, F-Friday?”

You hugged a chuckle, and looked over at the calendar he had hanging on his wall. “October 25th…” you sighed. “Have you seen Kazutora?”

Baji’s nerves tensed a little bit, but caught himself of the random question quickly. “I mean, yeah, we had a meeting yesterday, so.” He shrugged. “Why?”

“Didn’t he, like, just get out of juvy..?” You asked softly. “Juvy? What for? We’ve don’t some bad shit, but we ain’t gone that far! Well, at least we weren’t caught…” Baji flicked your forehead affectionately. “Really?” You asked, looking confused. Baji rose an eye brow in suspicion.

“You seriously had some weird dream, huh…” Baji asked, before holding you close. “…i think… I might have had the same dream, before…” he whispered, like he didn’t want to believe himself. “I see Mikey, and Kazutora fighting. I feel weak, like I’m bleeding outs and … I always end up sta—“ he tried to relay back, but you made a somewhat whining noise to dissuade him from finishing his sentence. He chuckles at you for that. “But it’s just a dream… a weird as hell one, but that’s all it is.” He said affirmatively.

“I ain’t going anywhere,” he said, almost like a promise. “Then..” you shuffled, and pulling away just enough to grin up at him, snot and all.

“What are we dressing as for Halloween?~”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers baji #tr Baji #baji #keisuke baji #baji keisuke #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji scenarios

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 - Three spicy/spoilery reviews

The reviewers are just saying whatever they want, I guess! O_O

Here's my favorite bits from TheWrap, ComicBook, and IGN.

I've decided to mix and match them, comparing what they each say about similar themes/topics/reveals.

ELEVATING THE SOURCE MATERIAL

TELL IT! It's about adding DEPTH, y'all, not just a 1:1 page-to-screen.

Intellectual horror, instead of psychological horror--fascinating.

An "even more authentic adaptation" -- WE BEEN KNEW!!! I roll my eyes at book stans who hate on the show, acting like the movie was more accurate just cuz it was set during slavery times with white actors. 🙄 Like PLEASE, there's so much missing from the movie, or glossed over, or straight up changed, that the show-antis just demonstrate how shallow they are when their every attack hinges on the timeline/race/age changes. Cry harder.

MORE elevated than Season 1--you love to see it.

Yaaas, bring on the petty melodramatic mess, and fierce performances! 👏

CLAUDIA & MADELEINE

Because Bailey used profanity to convey her agony being a woman trapped in an adolescent's body in S1 too, I'm assuming Delainey will just cuss more? But cussing is all over the show, so I don't get it.

Everyone keeps raving about Roxane as Madeleine, but they've been SO CLOSE-LIPPED about her scenes, and it's KILLING me. 😭

"Deeply willful around Louis"--yeah, we saw a glimpse of that in the trailer; it's what he deserves. Give 'em hell, Claudia!

And yeah, she's PISSED that they cast her as Baby LouLou--imagine, being infantalized, and given the name of the father you've already gone through so much to emancipate yourself from as a "Brother" instead of "Daddy Lou." 😒 Eff Louis--where's Claudia's scythe at!?

LOUIS / LOUMAND

"Nonsense--" TheWrap isn't holding back a single punch huh?

"dating show contestants feigning authenticity to clumsily present themselves in the best light--" oof. 💀

Holy god; "begging the question...if Louis has just traded one abuser for another" GO AWF! 🚩🚩🚩

DANIEL / DEVIL'S MINION

Wow, so this must refer to Episode 5 from the episode titles list released recently. "Genuine horror".... 😈

RIP. 💀 Youngmaniel might see some action, but Oldmaniel's "utterly allergic and adversarial;" OOF. 💀💀

ARMAND

They keep saying petty. 😅 These messy queens are a trip!

"Far more powerful" -- I am SEATED~! I wanna see THE coven master!

Yaaas, come through Children of Satan/Darkness acolyte! 😈

"Scarred and transformed by the same man" -- they sound like war veterans. U_U

LESTAT / LOUSTAT

"the show's primary villain--" say it louder. Book stans need to stop projecting post-IWTV Lestat the hero/protagonist/MC into the narrative that LOUIS is telling, as a guy struggling to get over his ex.

"There to berate him for his poor choices--" this tracks with the trailer released today, too, where the producers said Dream-Stat would "pass judgement" on Louis' pisspoor actions.

PRODUCTION (Sets, Costumes, etc)

Yes, IWTV S1 was absolutely gorgeous; their attention to detail was immaculate. And so far it looks like S2 is gonna be just as nice. I REALLY like what I've seen of the Threatre's aesthetic.

THEATRE DES VAMPIRES & SANTIAGO

I freaking love this. XD

Agreeing with him about WHAT though? 🤨 That Louis & Claudia are hiding things? Or that they deserve to die because of it? (Especially since Lestat is OBVIOUSLY not actually dead, so what "crime/rules" are they actually breaking, Lord Kangaroo Court?)

TALAMASCA & CRITIQUES

Thank you lord god kamisama flying spaghetti monster he's a Talamascan, not another secret vampire.

But now I'm nervous, thanks to the ComicBook review:

Uh oh. The Talamasca feels forced & out of place. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

The AVENGERS INITIATIVE. 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

But they say it feels like "Daniel's being recruited--" YES PLEASE. 🙏 If Daniel's not gonna be a vampire, at least let him be a Talamascan. Ain't no way he can return to the mundane world after all this.

My BIGGEST complaint about IWTV as a franchise is its tenuous connection to the Immortals Universe. AMC is dropping the ball hard on creating an ARCU--Anne Rice's Cinematic Universe. There are SO MANY immortals & supernaturals we should've BEEN seen in S1, walking the streets of NOLA. I will say this every time: Oncle Vervain Mayfair should've been kept from the OG pilot script. We should've seen Louis go to him for gris-gris before the poker game, and introduce Lestat to Vervain as a practitioner of what Louis thought was "European voodoo." Also: we should've seen Lasher. There should've been a scene where the Mayfairs told the vampires to GTFO their territory, and keep their hunting grounds on the other side of town. Like, the Mayfair Witches show sucks like you wouldn't believe, it's so stupid (looks gorgeous though), but the WORLDBUILDING is ripe for the taking! And AMC did squat with it!

Like, tbh, I don't see the point of a whole Talamasca show, and if it's handled by Esta & the gang from MW, then I don't wanna see it--I WILL, ofc, but I won't WANT to. Especially since we haven't seen any ghosts. ISTG, PLEASE have Merrick Mayfair in Ep7 or Ep8--not only will that bridge IWTV with MW, but it can perfectly lead to Blackwood Farm., while keeping the threads between vampires, ghosts, AND the Taltos (if they're determined to do a Lestat/Rowan crossover from Blood Canticle 🤢🤮).

I was wondering why so many reviews were giving it 4/5 or 9/10, like wtf are y'all being so stingy for!? But if this is the problem, then I'm not surprised, I've been complaining about it the whole time.

#interview with the vampire #iwtv spoilers #iwtv season 2 spoilers #iwtv tvc metas #justice for claudia #loumand #loustat #the hype is real #must see tv

[light-of-the-two-trees]

A draft scene from a long, daunting AU that I hope to one day fully write, in which Miriel survives to give birth to all five of Finwe's children (meaning they are full siblings), and Feanor is also the third of five children rather than the eldest, younger than Fingolfin.

(The happier timeline of two even for this AU, in which I don't make things play out just as they do in canon regardless of the changes as I want to in the sadder timeline. The birth order for the Finweans here is Findis (not so named), Fingolfin, Feanor, Lalwen and Finarfin, if anyone's curious). Scene features Feanor and Fingolfin reconciling after Fingolfin sails to Beleriand.

It was a shock seeing him standing there, despite expecting it fully. His brother was still dressed in all his royal finery like a stray piece of Aman that had neglected to blend into the grim darkness of Endórë. He looked every inch the High King of the Ñoldor — which Fëanáro distantly realised he was now — right from his swept-back hair to his impossibly clean boots. No blood stained his clothes, and the salt and sea-spray seemed to have marred them not — in fact, it seemed he'd even fixed his hair. Upon his gleaming dark hair sat Atar's crown, the silver circlet sparkling there as if it belonged nowhere else, and right then Fëanáro wanted nothing more than to rip it off, any damage to Ñolofinwë's perfectly styled hair be damned, and toss it into the ocean because it was just another reminder that their father was gone, and never going to return.

In stark contrast of course, Fëanáro was soot-stained, shivering, bleary-eyed from having stared at too many maps and records with nothing but lamplight, and not at all fit to be meeting any person, let alone a King — just like everyone else except for His Most Royal and Exalted Highness, so it did not bother him very much.

He stared at Ñolofinwë, waiting for him to announce his business.

'Should I sit?'

Fëanáro pointed to a chair, and Ñolofinwë sat. Then, without asking, he reached out for a metal cup and jug by the chair, filled the cup with water from the jug, and took a long swig from it.

After that, he sat there and did nothing but stare the cup or into the middle distance for some time.

'Why are you here?' Fëanáro asked at last, when the silence and expectant staring grew unbearable. Ñolofinwë looked up from his long-since-emptied cup, and sighed.

'I was here to ask if you're alright.'

Was he alright? Fëanáro did not know, nor did he understand why Ñolofinwë might have been asking. But he wasn't not alright, as far as he knew, so he said, 'Yes, I'm alright.'

Ñolofinwë nodded, and turned back to the cup.

Fëanáro decided to pretend that his brother was no longer there, and went back to the map that Círdan's people had given him.

Some more time passed.

Then, at last, Ñolofinwë broke the silence. 'Why were you going to burn the ships?'

It wasn't at all a considered movement when Fëanáro turned around. snatched the cup from Ñolofinwë's unresisting hands, and threw it to the ground furiously. He even took a moment to stare at the cup and then his hand in bewilderment before crying, 'Why did you conspire to have me killed, then, brother? Answer this first!'

Ñolofinwë had gone very still again. After a moment, he breathed, stood up slowly, and picked the cup up from where it lay before placing it down gently upon Fëanáro's desk. His face looked hard and cold. 'Who told you that?' he asked evenly.

'It takes no Loremaster to figure out your designs,' Fëanáro snapped back. 'You wanted to have me sent to Lórien. Your intentions could not be any clearer.'

Ñolofinwë let out one of his long, beleaguered sighs. 'I will admit, Fëanáro, that I was asking Atar to convince you to visit Lórien. But my aim was never to kill you — I can't see how you would even imagine that from such an innocuous suggestion.'

'You do not send people to Lórien simply for a holiday.'

'But what of comfort, and counsel? Those are the reasons for which most people visit Lórien!' Ñolofinwë's voice rose a little, and he pushed it back down into his courtly, even tones. 'You were...I am not sure how to put it, Fëanáro, but you scared us during those last days. We did not wish for you to be suffering.'

Fëanáro shook his head. 'I was quite well all throughout,' he insisted, though his mind flashed back traitorously to the awful headaches, the exhaustion, the constant worry at the back of his mind as to whether the Silmarilli were safe and well. 'If you wished for me to depart for Mandos, you need not have arranged a route via Lórien. A knife to the heart would have—'

'Stop!' Ñolofinwë cut in sharply. 'Do not speak of killing, Fëanáro — I do not care to hear it, and especially not so callously. And tell me, please tell me, why do you think sending — not even sending, but suggesting you to go to Lórien, would be anything other than a suggestion for seeking advice and rest? Why would it ever be done to kill you? I don't understand!'

Another heavy, oppressive silence hung in the air.

Then Fëanáro cleared his throat and whispered, 'Ammë went to Lórien.'

Ñolofinwë's face went ashen, and he fell back into his chair. 'Oh. Oh, Fëanáro...'

'It was the only way you would know to kill.'

As suddenly as he'd sat down, Ñolofinwë stood up again and pulled Fëanáro into a tight embrace.

Fëanáro let him pull him close, unresisting — it felt like being young again, when being held by a parent or sibling was enough to drive away any fear, no matter how awful. 'I had never meant it that way, Fëanáro,' murmured Ñolofinwë. 'Lórien does not...I didn't know you thought...I wouldn't...'

'Truly?' asked Fëanáro, moving away. His mind went back to the overheard conversation, the rumours about something dark in Lórien. Where had he heard it? From his sons? Who'd heard it from...whom? Had he asked them, or simply believed it, since it had made good sense at the time?

Moringotto... of course. Curse Moringotto a thousand times over!

'Yes, truly,' said Ñolofinwë, earnestly. 'And I am sure the business with the swords was much the same, wasn't it? I'd heard whispers of your 'madness', though I do not remember where they came from...'

'I was wearing two swords that day, you know. I'd brought one for you,' Fëanáro admitted quietly. 'A gift of reconciliation.' That sword was still unbloodied, unlike his own, lying under this very desk, in fact. 'You must have heard the same sorts of things — that I hated you enough, was mad enough, as they put it, to wish you dead.' He'd never wished it, he knew, never had. Even with the flaming torch in his hands, ready to toss, he'd only hoped his brother would turn back and go home, as Arafinwë had.

He did not want to think about what might have happened had he set the ships aflame.

'Moringotto,' said Ñolofinwë, having drawn the same conclusions. 'I'm going to kill him.'

'I am,' Fëanáro retorted. It felt so wonderfully banal, nothing but a pointless, teasing argument with his elder brother only for the sake of it, that his lips stretched into a smile, after what must have been months.

'We could do it together,' Ñolofinwë suggested. The ice had already melted from his eyes and face. 'With both of us, I doubt he'd stand a chance.'

Fëanáro snorted. 'You're right, but you don't even — wait, no, you do.' He crouched down upon the floor, and felt around in the dark recesses under the travelling desk before pulling out an intricate scabbard, from which a silvery-dark hilt gleamed. He stood up, and handed the sheathed blade hilt-first to Ñolofinwë.

'Is it the one you were going to...'

'The very same,' replied Fëanáro. 'I'll make better ones once we have the proper facilities, of course. Some of the people around — I'll tell you all about them soon enough, and their highly fascinating language — mentioned all sorts of interesting metals that might be made into useful alloys. But until then, you'll at least have an actual weapon apart from your formidable anger to go against Moringotto with.'

Ñolofinwë smiled, and pulled the sword from its sheath, admiring the gleam of the pale blue-white lamplight upon its sharp blade. 'Thank you.'

'Don't...don't thank me like that.' Fëanáro took a deep breath, and gathered his thoughts. 'Should we try to put this behind us, if we can? Please?'

His brother nodded at once, and Fëanáro felt a crushing weight lift from his shoulders. His back straightened, and for the first time in so long that he could not quite pinpoint when and where it had begun, the gaping wound between Fëanáro and his brother felt like it was coming a little closer to healing over.

#i'm starting to try and tackle the task of *writing* this AU that's been rattling around in my head since like august last year #so prepare to hear about it lol #the silmarillion #silm #legendarium tag #feanor #fingolfin #children of miriel au #<- tentative au tag #and it was not void #my fic

[allbluedepths]

More time travel AU thoughts that were originally a reply to @softesttangerines' fantastic thoughts here. This was a reblog, but then I got carried away (like 700+ words of carried away), so I'm making it its own post to not break my mobile dashboard lol. Includes some stuff on teenage Shanks' mindset, current Benn's perspective on meeting teenage Shanks again, and a little bit of Mihawk's perspective on teenage Shanks + their relationship both past and current at the end.

I agreed with everything too hard and then ended up with a megapost. Oops.

Teenage Shanks’ mindset and misconceptions is something I’ve thought about a lot for this AU. Arguably too much. First off, his recklessness? He doesn’t have a fantastic value on his own wellbeing, and it’s still a bit different with his crew — he wouldn’t want to get hurt and leave them high-and-dry without a captain because it wouldn’t be fair to them, but he still doesn’t fully get that they’d be upset about it because they care about him, not just his title.

I think Benn in the original timeline eventually comes to understand this through some odd comments/implications/behaviors from Shanks, but it isn’t stated outright and takes a good while to hit. Plus, by the point Benn has a real inkling about it, Shanks has gotten with the program, so it never lines up to have a time where Benn would really intervene.

(Adding in a note here for me yelling into a pillow because yes that’s 1000% what I was going for with Benn meeting teenage Shanks again and I am Elated. “You might as well take his title” brb going to go cry a whole puddle at that.)

Current Benn? Absolutely yelling at his younger self about how obvious it is and how did he miss it?? (Actual answer: Shanks hadn’t told him a lot about his childhood yet, and he’s not a mind reader. He’s still upset about it, though.) Teenage Shanks is a conundrum of keeping people too close and too far away all at the same time. He loves his crew, but with how recent it’s been since the whole Oro Jackson disbanding and him basically being on his own… the kid has some funky abandonment issues of letting himself believe this crew really is going to last.

And this crew isn’t even his crew. Their captain is missing because he’s the one there now — what are they going to do if he doesn’t return? What’ll happen to him? (Benn’s definitive breaking point is Shanks finally hitting his limit of how much he can bottle up and asking what’ll happen with him if their Shanks can’t come back? Because to him, the answer is he’s not entirely sure but it certainly involves Shanks still staying with them, and to think Shanks doesn’t implicitly understand that is upsetting, and he’s fixing that, now.)

(That part is actually somewhat written, so I really want to post it soon now, haha.)

Fic plot side tangent: while they know it’s likely Devil Fruit shenanigans that caused the whole fiasco, they don’t know if it’s a swap of the two Shanks in the same timeline, a swap with a different timeline, or something else (ex: de-aging). The actual answer is that it effectively creates an alternate/split timeline, so there’s nothing to worry about, but there’s the concern that if they change things for Shanks too much, something will go Wrong.

Benn is by far the one to stick with that the most at first (maybe tied by Mihawk) and he does end up sticking with that to an extent — it works fine for major “plot points” so to speak. But interpersonal stuff? Once Benn starts realizing what he missed the first time around… yeah no, that’s getting fixed like you said. If doing that causes issues down the line, then so be it, but he can’t in good conscience let some of that go.

Mihawk’s bits keep getting cut short because I go on for so long about Benn’s perspective RIP. But yes 100% to all of that. Mihawk may not admit ever (or even fully to himself) that he had his own share of mishandlings in the past, but he’s at a point where there definitely is a hint of regret of how far away he held Shanks for so long, knowing what was to come now. (However, I like to equally think his slight moments of conceding are also out of the knowledge that Shanks wormed his way into his life once — he can definitely do it again in his own time, even better and quicker with some guidance.)

He does 100% think this Shanks is endearing, though — how could you not? At the same time, it definitely reaffirms his appreciation for his Shanks and who he grew into being once day.

(Also: wheezing over Shanks asking Benn for love advice to win over Mihawk. That man has really been put through it, haha.)

#@ time travel anon there's actual fic content coming too but i hope you like this as well haha! #one piece #red haired shanks #benn beckman #mishanks #dracule mihawk #akagami no shanks #time travel au #anyways if you can't tell: i'm more than happy to ramble about this AU at any and all times haha

[nezumiva]

I assume this will somewhat be addressed in the podcast for Watanagashi, but I've been reading it with a friend(reread in my case), and the first 2 chapters have just been... really bad and pervy? I love the rest of this series, but god this has been a lot, and I know this is not the end of it. How do you deal with it, and address it to new readers?

Yeah...

It is a bit of an ever-present dilemma in Higurashi, unfortunately (and while it improves over time in When They Cry as a whole, it's unfortunately a bit of an issue in a lot of Ryukishi's work). I do think the chapters in and of themselves are very good, to be clear, but those types of jokes do tend to drag it down massively whenever they (however briefly) rear their ugly head. As it pertains to generally recommending the work, I'll get to that in a moment, but first and foremost I think it's just good to know the limits of your friends, if that's the sort of reading situation you're in. For me, and the people I know - we all definitely hate the unnecessary sexual humor, but we all also grew up on a lot of anime and manga, back in the late 90's and early 2000's, which had far less restraint about these things than it should have. Obviously it wasn't good, but while we dislike it, we tend to roll our eyes and muscle past if at all possible. Thankfully, in Higurashi's case, while it is often extremely obnoxious, it is easily ignored in the context of the story at large. That's us, though, and everybody's comfort level for ignoring that sort of thing is different. When it comes to general recommendations, there's just no escaping the huge asterisks you're going to have to attach to the work at large. Like many things I love with less than stellar aspects (problematic stereotypes in One Piece, similarly gross humor in Danganronpa, etc.) there's not often a way to soften the blow of these things for people who wouldn't have been able to power through regardless, and that's completely understandable. (And even if it's less problematic, obviously, Higurashi still has a lot of elements that are difficult to casually stomach regardless, so it does sort of inherently narrow the pool of people you can get into it, lol.) This doesn't really make up for it, obviously, but this is almost doubtlessly a product of the game's release timeline and where it was released, as well. This was a self-published game in the very, very early aughts being marketed to primarily otaku at Comiket. Galge was still very prominent, and while it has thankfully managed to grow beyond the need of being strictly pornographic (and thank god Higurashi never went that far), the kind of sketchy, ecchi variety of shit did unfortunately sell and draw more eyes to a game back then. Given how small 07th Expansion was (they only sold 2 copies of Onikakushi at the time, I believe), I wouldn't doubt they felt the need to shove things like this in to push units. (In a sense, I do think some of the tropes are there to be intentionally subverted. While most people know Higurashi has horror now, they didn't then, so in some respects Ryukishi was ripping the rug out from under people who just thought they were here for a dating sim, but attributing that to every instance of weird shit in Higurashi would obviously be oversimplifying the issue.) TL;DR: Higurashi is definitely a product of its time in many respects, and while I think it is a fantastic story that surpasses its occasional failings with gross sexual humor, that is an unfortunate mark of the time and circles it was made in. It may have been a play to help it sell, or to throw off galge genre readers, or both, but either way it still kinda sucks a lot. That is always unavoidably going to be a huge asterisk when recommending it to anyone in the current day.

#asks #anonymous

[eclipsebyler]

BYLER FIC RECS PT 2

Okay, so I'm here with another part! Compiling all my recent favorite reads (with commentary this time because I'm very normal about byler fics...) Anyway, sharing is caring because my bookmarks are becoming longer. So here you go.

• We Will All Go Together When We Go by perexcri

The Apocalypse, romcom Byler fic! Ongoing, chaptered, 30k words so far. I know I've rec this in a recent post but I'm including it here again because I LOVE and enjoyed everything in this fic, down to Byler's characterisation, esp Mike's, and their playful yet tensioned dynamics. It's so chefs kiss. There's enough amount of they-get-stuck-in-the-upside-down suspense, comedy, and slow burn fluff. Highlight of this fic is that Will has a gun and Mike has a flashlight. That's all you have to know to give it a read.

baby, we're perfect by bookinit

A fresh take on established byler relationship! Oneshot, 16k words. I don't know how to describe this glorious fic without it being a spoiler so you just have to read it. The Fluff and Angst are both in extremes, you've been warned. It made me cry, for real. Had to stare at a wall for a few moments because of some scenes. Like the title says, it was PERFECT. A devastatingly beautifully written work I owe this author my life for what they did in this fic.

i'd make a deal with god by smoosnoom

A fix-it fic for vol2 featuring Castle Byers and Rain kiss. Will attempting to rip the bandaid off and Mike not letting him. Oneshot, 15k words. Anything by this author has me in a chokehold and a puddle of feelings, seriously. Their fix it series is a MASTERPIECE. The way they write Will's POV here absolutely destroyed me. It encompasses his story so painfully and beautifully and just everything about him is so— I badly want it to be canon he deserves the BEST. And might I add that the way they showcased the Byers-Hopper family bond here is everything I adore. Please if you haven't read this, you should.

make me your future history by andiwriteordie

Byler through the years, childhood friends to lovers fic! Oneshot, 10.9k words. I am absolutely a sucker for childhood promises being fulfilled (and broken) till they grow up so I ADORE this fic so much. Not to mention this author is one of my favorites and they carry the byler ao3 tag on their back and always deliver the BEST fics. There's a lot of angst and also a lot of fluff and it's something I can just reread again and again and again and won't get tired of it. It deserves more reads and love!

Gotta Be A Strange Twist of Fate by PoeticPatron

The fantasy D&D Byler fic! Oneshot, 26k words. Another fic I'm rec-ing again because it deserves more recognition. I really, really enjoyed and adored reading the adventures of the party in a fantasy action setting and the way the author incorporated the D&D lore here was so good. This fic was so wonderfully written and sweet in all the right amounts for friendships and romance. The Paladin and the Cleric being soulmates against all odds and prophecies? Say no more!

A Darker Timeline by egg98

The au where everyone stopped believing Will was alive and he was stuck in the Upside Down for three years and only came back to the real world in Season 4 timeline. Ongoing, chaptered, 24k words so far. Like the title says, it's A Darker Timeline, can't emphasize that enough, so much trauma and horror is delved in this work especially for Will, but also the party. The author's writing style is so hauntingly captivating- every chapter leaves me at the edge of my seat. I am so hooked with this 'what if' scenario and this unique, creative concept because it opens a lot of possibilities and changes to the characters and the plot! Will especially with his UD abilities and his personality.. beware of a grim and more badass Will plus emotionally scarred party. It's written so WELL so you should give it a try! (It's more on the psychological horror side though, the romance aspect is very slow burn.)

the boyfriend problem by RomeoWrites

The fic where the Wheelers (especially Ted) thinks Mike and Will have been boyfriends since forever. Oneshot, 15k words. Who would've thought I'd read a fic where Ted of all people don't have a heteronormative view of romance? I very much enjoyed reading him embarrassing Mike every chance he gets, this fic gave me so much JOY it was such a funny and sweet and fluffy read! If you're looking for some lighthearted, family dynamics and eventual getting together of two oblivious gay teenagers— this is the fic!

The Dad Who Stepped Up by MagikMask

Hopper and Will bonding fic (and of course, Hopper being protective of Will especially when it comes to one Michael Wheeler). Oneshot, 7.8k words. I've been enjoying every Byers-Hopper or Wheeler family dynamics fic there is and it's even more enjoyable if Byler gets tangled up in it. This fic focuses more on Hopper trying his best to be a good dad to Will, but the Byler and Hopper parts of this fic gave me healing, so I have to rec it!

r/byler by danteapot

Mike Wheeler if he's on reddit, social media fic. Oneshot, 5k words. This fic was so fun and amusing to read and the social media aspect fitted so well, I could totally imagine Mike oversharing his problems online and asking for advices lmfao. Trust him to always talk about Will on every spaces and still not realize he's in love with him. He's just so oblivious and I love him for it.

i hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this). by blackdeathmamba

Post S4 college roommates Byler and miscommunication trope fic! The miscommunication in question is just them accidentally kissing all the time and having different thoughts on it. Three chapters, completed, 16.8k words. I've said it before and I'll say it again: it's one of the best and funniest work I've ever read. Byler are so disgustingly in love but they are also painfully oblivious about it. It's a competition on who's more of an idiot between them while you read through their POVs and it gave me immense joy and pain reading through it. I swear to God, these bitches are so gay, and this fic just showcased that. Please read it to brighten your day.

i need you more than anyone darling (you know that i have from the start) by friendstolovers

Instead of Byler getting murrayed, this is Byler getting Jonathaned fic (In a gentler and more subtle way as the tags says). Oneshot, 5.7k words. Mike finally comes to his overdue realisations (thanks to Jonathan) and attempts to climb bedroom windows to be romantic. They finally talk and confess and it's just the cutest and sweetest thing ever I swear.

without heart by aceoflanterns

Will Byers and the Upside Down (the mysteries between his connection to Vecna and his powers) fic. Completed, chaptered, 31k words. I am once again rec-ing this because I can't help go back to this fic when I need to read complex takes on Will surrounding vol2 and possible S5 plot! The author's writing style is one of the best and my personal favorites. It's art, a masterpiece, everything about it — down to the plot, the conversations, the characterisations, the family and friendship and romance dynamics. Even the Upside Down horrors with Vecna and the Mind Flayer and Will. How much Will's love for Mike and his love for everyone helped him (and their love for him, too.) Personally think this had lots of fresh creative takes, an interesting theory written in a fic. It's long and a worth it read! Totally in awe of this work.

i’d love to see me from your point of view by unidentifiedblackthorn

The fic where Byler gets high together and they let loose their disaster gay feelings. Oneshot, 8k words. Got me giggling, blushing, kicking my feet in the air, for real. The amount of cuddling, flirting and kissing this fic had made me sick (in the best way). I think Byler in Season 5 deserves a moment like this because of their decade long pent up feelings and pining, these gays deserve a break and just... be gay together. Anyways this fic was such a wonderful read! If you want to drown in fluff read this. (Also brb this author just posted a sequel to this fic, gotta read 🏃Probably gonna be a part of my next fic rec thread lol).

So that's it for now. Enjoy reading, everyone. And please if you guys have some recs feel free to drop me some, too! I need more fics to read.

#byler #byler fics #byler fic recs #pt 2 #feel free to send me recs too #to the authors of these fics ilysm

[fangaminghell]

The context of this is unclear but I wanted to write the last time Reukra and Sylvan seen each other until the main game. Please note that not everything is canon here, as the timeline of events are still wonky.

~~~~~

It wasn't the first time she saw Reukra in such a state. His hair a mess, eye bags heavy under his eyes, his clothes no longer in such detailed symmetry that Sylvan almost is unsure if this is her Reukra. Almost. This isn't the first time she has been Reukra so disoriented…..and she doesn't think it will be her last. But it feels like her last. She….she just can't do this anymore.

Harmony was the first to leave. As resilient as she is, she can only handle so much of what this….. organization was doing. She was always kind, like that. She swore to not say a word and she kept on that promise. Then Anastasia left which, if Sylvan was being honest, was bound to happen. Anastasia always had a strong personality, and would often clash with Reukra over ideas and projects. Her and Harmony probably were what kept Anastasia from ripping Reukra’s head off- not that the friendship wasn't there. Just that Ana and Reukra were…..a lot. And this project of there's was A Lot. So soon after Harmony left, so did Anastasia, swearing to never want to see Reukra again. It was…rough. Sylvan couldn't get in contact with her for a while, and even when she did, Ana was colder than usual. It hurts, it really did. Her dear friends leaving, her best friends deteriorating mental state…..it was all so much.

And now ….now it came to a head.

She thinks Ana and Harmony leaving are finally taking a toll on Reukra. It was foolish not to - she knows her friends. She knows he cares, even just a tiny bit. And outside of that, well. Harmony and Anastasia were both pretty vital to their operations. Them leaving had made progress stagnant, and for as patient as Reukra can be, no progress meant no perfection. And that's why he’s here. Panicking. Fumbling with papers, trying push out more than he could manage. It hurts to see. It hurts so bad.

“ Reukra,” Sylvan starts, keeping her voice even. Reukra looks up at her, dark eyes so broken and panicked- she hasn't seen that since they were kids. She tries not to grimace.

“ Sylvan,” he answers, getting up and slowly walking towards her. She gulps, stealing herself.

“ Reukra, I think-” she's cut off when Reukra place his hands on her shoulders. He grips hard, staring at her, his eyes begging.

“ I need this, Sylvan.” His grip gets tighter, “ I need this. I need it to be real,”

‘Please tell me it can be real’ is what his eyes plead, and for a second, she forgoes her original plan, wanting nothing more than to comfort her best friend. For a second.

“I….” she tries to gather her courage, “ Reukra I love you,and you're my bestest friend but I…I can't do this anymore. So I'm going to go,”

Reukra doesn't respond. He just looks at her and for the first time in a long time, she can't tell what he's thinking. His eyes, his usual tell, has lost its light and he just stares. He’s blocking her out. He’s blocking her out.

“ Okay” was all he said, letting go of her shoulders.

Just like that. Years of friendship. Gone. Just. Like. That. She knew this would happen! Why wouldn't it happen, she's leaving and she knows he's too far gone! The logical part of her is scolding herself for getting emotional about the inevitable. Her emotional side just wants to cry.

“ Okay,” she whispers. She turns around and starts walking. Nothing the click clacking of her heels and the shattering of her heart. She stops at the door. She turns around, hoping for miracle.

“ Is there anything I can say to make you come with me?”

Reukra didn't go back to his work. He watched her walk. A blank stare.

“ No……I don't think you can”.

Sylvan smiles. It's tense, and she's afraid if she lets it go she'll break down then and there. She nods her head, as if she understands.

“ Goodbye, Reukra”

She walks out the door. And that's that.

#pokemon insurgence rewrite #Insurgence Rewrite

[loyaltykask]

Chapter 30

@journeythroughjourneytothewest

WUJING YOU ARE TOO GOOD FOR US! YOU DO A LOT BB. I want to give Wujing my everything

NOooooo LADY HE AN ASS, Dont have a "change of heart" BULLSHIT

Maybe people were just dumber..... 'he so handsome! how could be a demon' BITCH THAT IS THERE MO

Considering that he said 'prove it' and that it was still a trick there must be really no other way but the demon reveling mirror and the Firey eyes to see through the demon disguise damn

The only reason Sanzang was able to survive being hacked alive was being of the deities around him I do wonder if he was still able to feel pain when he was being attacked? Like it says that 20 monks would have been killed by those attacks if he didn't have those buffs. Does he still have the scars? Does he remember what it is like to be hurt like that?

Poor man I really think this might be his lowest point thus far

This dumb bitch really got hungry and gave up his disguise for a snitch-snatch like bitch

BAILONG! HORNLESS! SCALELESS! GOING TO GO DO WHAT HIS BIG BRO CAN'T

GET EM BAILONG

NOOO BAILONG

HE HURT I know The Bone Demon went out like a bitch but she was really the catalyst to making this whole group spilt like this. They all separated, they all lost, and now they all Hurt

Fuck this really would be like the third act in a movie

Don't be fucking Rude.

NGISNGOS BAJIE IS LIKe "Shit he talking, this means we are close to death"

He shooKETH

HE IS CRYING BAJIE DEADASS THINKS THEY ARE HOPELESS, THERE IS NO WAY THEY CAN WIN But Bailong saying "Go get big brother! We need him! He is the only one that can save us now!"

Now I'm going to cry!

He fuck he feels guilty too. At least I believe he is genuine.

Like he knew he did wrong and he doesn't want to face the consequences of his own actions that he hurt Wukong when he thought he could get away with teasing

The Utter FAITH Bailong has in Wrukong just...

He really know Wukong is just and kind like.... not a slight of doubt in his mind in his big bro

he has 1,200 monkeys legit from 47,000 to less than a PERCENT of what he had!

A few years..... I think that must be like 2 or 3 at this point.... damn I wish there was a clear timeline how long they have been together at this point, I was thinking maybe 2 years at this

I do like how it suggests Wukong would let Bajie crash at his place if got banished

Okay but Bajie saying that Sanzang could only rely on Wukong aint too far from the truth RIP Bajie and Wujing but they monk keeps getting kidnapped under them

GSUKGNSIEOGNSEOI Wukong just leads him by the hand to fucking show off his mountain that is too cute!

He really proud how much his mountain has grew back he wanted to show off

JUST HAVE A LEISURE OLD TIME DAMN

Walk of shame... literally tho

lamo got em

THEY BROS ARE BACK IN TOWN

#book club #jttw #journey to the west

[thekittytat]

Screaming in the Night

Eddie x female reader one shot

Summary: You and Eddie successfully draw away all the demobats from Vecna’s lair, only to be presented with the issue of what to do once they got there. Tensions are high and with the adrenaline pumping, you two find yourselves needing to release it the moment you’re safe. The timeline of this is the same, Hawkins falls, Max is in a coma, etc. only Eddie doesn’t die in this alteration. Reader takes the place of Dustin in being bait for the demobats.

Warnings: Smut fr 18+ Both characters are over 18. Violence, suspense, language, derogatory names, pet names, bodily fluids, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, dom Eddie Munson, praising, unprotected p in v

Song: Screaming in the Night by Krokus

“The gates was gettin' rusty, as we sailed into the dark

The stars were out and shinin' against the moonlit hour

The wolves were out and howlin', most of the time

And I was cold and shiverin' and bleedin' in the night”

Word Count: 3,143

  Eddie slammed the cage door shut at the very last second, causing an enraged demobat to screech and claw angrily through the wires. It wasn’t but seconds before that he had drawn the swarm of them away from Vecna’s lair by shredding his guitar at the loudest possible decibel. You had watched in awe at his skilled fingers dancing along the strings, marveling the way he transformed. He had become this deranged metal persona, effectively making an entire new dimension his own. This was something far different from his usual performances in the boring hole in the wall bars across rural Indiana. He was playing for no one but you and a hoard of vicious creatures unknown to your realm, yet it was the most metal show you’d ever witnessed as he tore up the makeshift stage. You felt privileged to even be witness to this and wished beyond measure that everyone else could be there to see it too.

The rest of your party, however, were waiting where the nesting demobats had begun their flight, waiting for Eddie and you to draw their attention so they could continue their assault on the inter dimensional demon. It was a success, and now the entire army of these creatures were racing to get to the two of you.

  “Go go go,” he shouted urgently, holding open the modified trailer door. Once inside you slammed it shut, bolting it with all the new renovations you two had added. You whipped back around to Eddie, both breathing heavy with wide eyes full of adrenaline.

  “Holy shit, dude,” you began breathlessly, Eddie matching your energy as you grabbed each other’s arms. “That…was the most. Metal. Fucking. Show! In the history of both goddamn dimensions!!” You were both yelling with excitement, jumping together as the euphoric feeling of escaping death washed over you. Your final battle cry was cut short as you heard the high pitched sound of scraping metal from the roof.

  “Shit,” Eddie gasped, his head whipping around the trailer to locate the source of the sound. You both snapped your heads towards the vent in the ceiling before looking back to the other with panicked expressions. In a frantic rush, you picked up your weapon while Eddie grabbed his, and you cautiously shifted over to the spot from where the sound was coming. Suddenly the scraping stopped and the only sound was your joined nervous panting. You looked at each other, labored breathing coming to a terrified gasp when the vent was suddenly ripped open from the inside by a monstrous creature with an ear-splitting screech.

  You both screamed back as you began stabbing at the demobat wildly, blood from the demonic beast splattering below. After what felt like an hour, Eddie pulled back from the attack to grab a chair from the vine-tangled table in the kitchen and set it directly underneath the vent. He jumped up onto it and slammed his modified shield of nails onto the opening, effectively plugging it closed by stabbing the bodies together, holding them in place. It wouldn’t last long, but it would give you both time to escape. One after the other you hastily climbed your way back to your dimension through the portal in the trailer ceiling, collapsing on the mattress below and breathing heavily.

Your eyes closed in relief briefly before shooting back open at the sound of rustling from the other side of the gate to the Upside Down. Eddie sprung to his feet and sprinted down the hall while you retrieved your spear from the floor, standing your ground in a fighting stance as you waited for any movement. He was back just as quickly, a can of hairspray in his hand. You gazed at him incredulously as he rooted around in his jacket pocket, pulling out a lighter. Realization hit you suddenly and you stepped back to allow Eddie to take his place underneath the pulsating gate.

His knees bent and the lighter and hairspray at the ready, he was ready for any sign of a disturbance. And then they came. Eddie let out a war cry as he positioned the can just behind the lighter and hit the nozzle, flames shooting forward as he flicked open the Zippo. The demobats that had congregated around the entrance screamed in pain as the fire scorched them, and the lot of them began backing away. Any that dared to come within range was immediately shot with the flames and roasted. After a few minutes, they could be seen flicking around the Upside Down living room but not daring to come through the portal. You both waited a few moments to gauge whether the entrance was secure, and eventually the bats had filtered out one by one, enticing a relieved exhale from you and Eddie.

And then it was as if your thoughts were one. One glance in the others’ direction told you all you needed to know before diving towards one another in a heated embrace. Spear cluttered to the floor and everything he had been holding was thrown to the couch as each hand found something else to grip, your lips colliding as if magnetically. One of Eddie’s hands firmly and confidently grasped you by the side of the neck, while the other pulled your hips into him by the small of your back. You hurriedly ran your hands up his chest, diving underneath his jacket to slide it down his arms. It fell to the floor with a thud before his hands quickly resumed their positions; one hand around your throat as the other guided your hips into motion as he walked you back to the counter of his small kitchen.

You softly whimpered into his lips as he briefly squeezed the sides of your neck, sending an intoxicating rush to your head. The sickeningly sweet sound vibrating through your lips into his made Eddie stiffen against the rough denim of his jeans and he groaned back. He broke away momentarily in order to grip the backs of your thighs in an effortless hoist onto the counter. For a second, a greedy expression splayed across his face as he watched your tits bounce with the sudden motion before helping you lift your shirt over your head and then returning to your longing lips. Both hands came to rest at your thighs, sliding purposely underneath the fabric of your skirt that was already bunched up at your hips.

Eddie’s thumb eagerly drifted towards the heat between your legs, sending a warm jolt through your core and resting in your lower abdomen. Your body had never ached for anyone this desperately before and all of the fear and stress of the night that was pent up up inside was begging to be released. You could feel a proud smirk forming on his lips as your slick coated the pad of his thumb from the outside of your panties. Your knees involuntarily squeezed his rib cage when he managed to slip his thumb underneath the damp garment, sliding your wetness around to your clit. Eddie groaned into your mouth at the sensation of your arousal, gaining more confidence to push forward and delve deeper. He shifted the panties to the side, allowing access for more fingers to participate, and carefully curled one, then two digits into your waiting core.

“Fuck…” he grunted, rocking his two fingers into you gently. “You’re so ready for me.”

You paused kissing him back as you gasped into his lips, ceasing all movements to get lost in the sensation. Eddie continued to prod your pleasure center in perfect rhythm until he had you clenching around his fingers. You rode out your climax by locking your joints and throwing your head back to groan towards the ceiling. He delivered a soft kiss to the side of your neck while he slowly removed his fingers coated in your wetness.

“Hmm…Good girl,” he praised as he knelt down between your legs—one knee and one boot on the floor—and gazed up at you as he politely folded back the hem of your skirt and pulled your panties down your legs. “Oh, sweet mmm—”

Eddie growled at the sight of your dripping slit, he closed his eyes and smiled, hanging his head down before looking up at the ceiling. He brought both hands to his mouth in a praying gesture as if he was praising the Lord for the generous opportunity presented to him. His eyes flicked back to yours as one corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk before he dove in, his tongue slowly leading the way from the inside of one knee and up your inner thigh. You gripped his hair with one hand as his nose brushed against your most sensitive area. He reveled in inhaling your feminine scent, wanting to capture the moment for as long as he could.

You threw your head back, your eyes fluttering closed as you felt the tip of his tongue tauntingly swirl around your clit. Eddie had now gripped your thighs in a tight squeeze as he darted his tongue around your entrance. It was agonizingly slow the way he licked around you, only getting you wetter with the anticipation. Biting your lip you look back down at him, meeting his gaze and the resulting smirk from him.

“Eddie,” you whined, pulling your eyebrows together in pleasure as he gave you another quick lap.

“What is it sweet pea?” he asked in an amused tone. As he gazed at you, he suddenly resumed curling his fingers into you deeply, smiling open-mouthed at your reaction.

“Mmmm…don’t…don’t you think…we should hurry?” you gasped, squeezing your thighs around his head when he dove back in underneath your skirt and sucked your clit between his lips. He flicked his tongue around for a few more seconds.

“Such a needy little kitten,” he grinned at your small whimper once he reappeared, still rocking his fingers in and out of you. His playfulness peeled away as he studied you, his eyes darkening and his expression changing to one of wicked desire. Very carefully Eddie stood up in front of you, his eyes not leaving yours as he began to unbuckle his belt. Once he had removed his shirt and unzipped his jeans, he pulled you into another heated kiss, tongues dancing together as he freed himself from his pants. You moaned softly into the kiss as you felt his weeping tip coming closer to your flesh. He teased your entrance once again, parting your folds gently but pulling back before returning to push in deeper. Each time he pulled back, he would push just a bit further in, but never enough. You couldn’t stop your hips from grinding forward onto him, earning a mocking chuckle from him.

Eddie grit his teeth with malice as he swiftly thrusted into you in one movement, bottoming out and settling into your warmth briefly before pulling back again. You inhaled deeply at the sudden intrusion and gripped him by the shoulders, fingernails burying little crescent shapes into his skin. He growled into your lips as he pushed forward again, and again giving you his entire length. As his pace increased, you wrapped your legs around his and shifted your hips to a better angle for him to hit. He slammed into that perfect spot at a rapid momentum, earning a high-pitched squeal of pleasure from you. His hips jutted forward and backward in confident and deliberate thrusts as his lips traveled down your neck, ending at the nape. You inhaled sharply as Eddie's teeth had found your skin and he nipped at you, giving gentle bites along your neck to your shoulder.

“Aaah…Eddie,” you breathed into his long, wild curls. “Don’t…stop.”

His pace picked up slightly but came to a blissful sustained speed as he listened to your body and your cries of pleasure, correctly ascertaining the right movement. His cock slammed into you in quick succession as many times as it would take to have you clenching around him through your orgasm. The pleasure built higher and higher until it was overflowing, having your walls trembling around his entire length again. Eddie grunted in sheer ecstasy at the sensation as his eyes fluttered closed and his head fell back. When he looked back down at you, his jaw clenched. He abruptly grasped your hips and shifted you until he was holding you up by the back of your thighs while still locked inside you.

Eddie supported your weight with both hands while he walked you back to his bedroom, thrusting in and out of you slightly with every step. As he passed the doorway, he spun you around and roughly pulled himself out of you before throwing you onto his bed. Your face planted in the pillows at the head of the bed while your ass angled straight upward, giving him a taunting view of your dripping cunt just waiting for him. He eyed you greedily as he pushed down his jeans all the way, kicking them and his shoes to a corner before crawling onto the bed behind you.

Eddie's strong hands pressed his rings into your skin as he lustfully squeezed your ass. You sat on your elbows and tilted your head to the side to eye him through the pillows, but he took one hand to shove you back down into the mattress while the other reached to his bedside table towards his box of Trojans.

“Mm, mm,” you protested, daring another glance in his direction. He furrowed his brow at you as he paused. “It’s the end of the world, Eddie. Mm-makes no sense to worry about that now.”

Eddie smirked at you before returning to his position behind you, grasping his shaft to guide the head towards your entrance. You moaned into the sheets as he sheathed you with his entire length once again. You felt yourself fluttering around his cock as he settled into you, stilling before pulling out again. In one swift movement he slammed back all the way to the back of your core before pulling back to resume his rough pace. He didn’t waste any moment in fucking you this time, only wanting to pound brutal thrusts into you over and over. You gasped at the harsh thrusting and balled the sheets up in your fists.

“You can fucking take it, slut. I know it,” he snarled harshly from behind you. Your walls flexed around him at those words, evoking a cocky growl from Eddie. “Hmm…is that what you like? Bein’ a little whore?”

You nodded into the sheets as he drilled into you mercilessly. His hips never faltered as he spoke, but continued their relentless pounding, stuffing you full of his thick girth. With one hand he held onto your hips while the other reached down to grip your hair into a ponytail, forcing your head up to where you could meet his eyes. As your mouth hung open with this new position, your breathing halted with every thrust, forcing a light moan every time his hips smacked yours.

“You can use your words, sweetheart,” Eddie grinned with an arrogant expression. “You can scream until everything in the Upside Down can hear you.”

“Yes…yes p-please,” you managed to say with him still rocking into your cunt. “I want…Want it so bad.”

“Oh yeah? Want what, baby?” he taunted. You could barely even form a sentence in your head with the way he was hitting your sweet spot over and over, much less string two coherent words together out loud. You just closed your eyes and bit your lip to revel in the delicious feeling of his cock, pleasure building again. Eddie yanked on your hair gently but firmly to make you look at him again.

“Fucking tell me. Tell me what it is you want, angel,” he pressed.

“Want…mmm…want you to f-fill me up,” you squeaked, eyes fluttering closed once again. At that Eddie pushed your entire body down into the bed where he could sink into you more tightly as your thighs squeezed together around him. He fucked you with that ruthless pounding again and again until the pressure started to build within you once more. A white hot flame was released in your abdomen as you rode out another orgasm, eyes screwed shut while stars twinkled behing your eyelids. You felt Eddie's thrusts slowing out of rhythm as he reached his own climax.

“God…Jesus…Fffuck!” he croaked as he spilled into you, filling you to the brim. You moaned at the warm sensation and the feeling of his cock twitching as he pumped rope after rope all along your walls. As he gently pulled out of you, you shuddered at the sudden emptiness but basked in the euphoric tingling feeling his seed left within you. Eddie collapsed on top of you, panting as he rolled over to lay beside you to enjoy the waves of ecstasy that were settling over you. As you caught each other’s eye, you both exhaled an out of breath laugh. Slowly you crawled into his arm to lay your head on his chest, pulling a strand of his hair from your mouth with a satisfied sigh.

“That was a mind-altering…fucking, world ending, explosive nuclear bomb fuck!” Eddie exasperated, looking over at you. You giggled at him, gazing back up at the ceiling.

“God, if only the world could end every day,” you replied through heavy breathing. He chuckled and ran his fingertips lightly over your arm, sending a pleasant chill down your spine. Such a chaotic night had drained your energy, with sleepiness creeping up on you quickly.

Your eyes had barely begin to droop when a sudden rumble around the trailer jolted you both fully awake, both frantically searching around the room for what caused the crash. You turned your gazes back towards each other in a terrified expression for a brief moment, before the room quaked again. You both bolted off the bed, grabbing handfuls of whatever article of clothing you could get to the quickest, and sprinted out of the room to the front door. Eddie flung it open and you both lept outside to join the other neighbors in the panic. The earth was shaking, a deafening crack sounded from inside the trailer and they watched in horror as it begin to fold into itself and dissolve, leaving a hellish red canyon forming from ground zero of the portal.

“Get to the van,” Eddie screamed, eyes wide with fear. “GO!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #dom eddie munson #dom!eddie #eddie x reader #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #dom!eddie Munson #stranger things smut #eddie munson smut #one shot #eddie munson fic #Eddie Munson one shot #rockstar eddie munson #stranger things one shot #vecna #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x female reader #Eddie x female #tw unprotected sex #unprotected sex #unprotected p in v #stranger things timeline #eddie lives #eddie munson lives

[coolcattime]

Third Time's the Charm: Part 1/3 [Mianite Post Timeline Piece)

Characters: Captain Capsize, Lady Ianite, Lord Dianite

Relationship: Captain Capsize/Lady Ianite (onesided)

Additional Tags: Major Character Death, Major Character Undeath, Suffering, Imprisonment, Lethal Wound, Cruelty, Mocking, Self Confidence Issues, Possibly Unrequited Love

A03 Link

Dying is an odd sensation. Most people only experience such a feeling once, though the Realm of Mianite is home to more than one person who is an expectation to such rules. It’s no secret that Captain Capsize is one such expectation. She has always kept how exactly each felt a secret, but each of her revivals still stick in her mind, memories that won’t stiff despite all the ones she appears to have lost.

The two revivals where Capsize would die again, and the third where she wouldn’t.

Part One: I Can Hear Her Crying

The pain that spread through her neck was the worst Capsize had ever felt. It was odd. She couldn’t quite process why she was in such pain until she saw the grin on Furia’s face, saw his sword at the end of its swing blood-soaked with only one person it possibly could’ve struck. She reached for her neck, gripping the wound she found that was far larger than her hand. She could barely process what was happening as she stumbled back, her body collapsing under its own weight.

She was dying? No, that couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be her end. She… she hadn’t saved Ianite yet. She wasn’t done yet. She couldn’t be done yet. As she collapsed, she heard the yells and shouts around her, but none of it processed. As she fully collapsed, desperately trying to get back up but finding herself unable, she felt a pressure on her neck. Tom was staring down at her, the emotions she felt reflected back on his face. He was saying something, talking as he pressed down on her wound as if that would have any effect. His words felt like she was hearing them from underwater, not quite reaching her ears. The pressure was quickly fading, though Tom didn’t pause in trying to stop the blood loss. It was just that everything was fading, growing distant.

She was actually going to die. This was it. Her life, cut away in an instant. It felt wrong.

And then she was gone.

Gone for all of a few seconds before oblivion was ripped away from her. There was a very different pressure on her neck as she now stared into the eyes of Lord Dianite. Having all feeling suddenly returned to her after it had ripped away was not pleasant, made all the worse by the fact that she couldn’t breathe.

She struggled against his grip, trying to pry his hand from her neck as she tried to actually process what was happening. She died? No, that didn’t make sense. She was alive. Maybe not for long as the god was currently preventing her from breathing, but she couldn’t have been killed by Furia despite knowing that she had been. But she couldn’t actually put together how such a thing could’ve happened, her actual thoughts consumed by getting the hand off her neck. She wanted to live. She needed to live. If she was somehow alive, she was going to live. She was desperate despite the impossibility of prying away the god’s claws, taking any little breath she could and kicking and flailing as she was raised off the ground. It wasn’t realistic to fight against the strength of a god, but she’d be damned if she didn’t try.

Lord Dianite barely acknowledged the woman squirming in his grasp. She wasn’t going to die, and even if she did, he was in control now, he could bring her right back. What a happy accident this was for him. He listened into his prayer room, listening to Furia’s silly little declarations and the champion’s panic. Neither the guardian nor the champions knew what a prize he had been given by Furia attempting to prove his own strength. What a prize it was that they didn’t. After all, if the champions did know, they certainly wouldn’t allow the situation to stand. He waited for them to leave his temple, knowing the moment they did it would be over for the little pirate. And of course, they did. They had no idea they were leaving the woman they thought dead to her actual death.

Capsize had no idea how long it was before she was dropped to the ground, gasping for air. Breathing burned. She’d felt the pain before, a minor inconvenience when swimming, accidentally swallowing water and having to painfully choke for breath for a few moments. This pain, however, was not just catching her breath. It was at least a minute of painfully breathing as she recovered, though she had no idea if the pain was from just the fact she hadn’t been able to breathe, or due to whatever Furia had done to her neck. Had he actually sliced through it? How was she alive? Lord Dianite looked down at her, waiting for her to finish. What a gift he had been given. Sure, he would’ve preferred Sparklez, but having the precious little captain that his sister loved so much his possession, he could very much settle for that. He smiled when she finally finished coughing and forced herself onto her feet. She had confrontation and defiance on her tongue, only for a horrible, hollow dread to creep in as she noticed a shackle on her ankle, a chain running from it connecting her to the floor.

“What—” She tried to speak, to keep some appearance of strength in front of the god, but her throat burned, and her voice croaked into nothingness unexpectedly, causing her to burst into coughs again. Lord Dianite chuckled.

“Oh, I bet that stings. I really didn’t heal you very well,” He said, clearly taking pleasure in her struggle. He hadn’t particularly cared if he’d left her able to talk, but he was glad now that she could. Her being able to argue back would make this just a little more entertaining. Capsize reached up to her neck, realising her hands were no longer blood-covered despite there not having been a moment where it could’ve been cleaned. She didn’t see herself as particularly easily confused, at least she didn’t before she came to the champion’s ‘Realm of Mianite’, but she couldn’t make sense of what exactly had happened to her. The wound had closed, she could feel that much, but it hadn’t disappeared. It hurt to touch, but it wasn’t the open wound that left her dying on the floor. “Furia did a real number on you. Do you realise, little Captain, you were dead for a couple moments?”

“No, I couldn’t… And what? Are you gonna try and convince me that you’ve brought me back out of the goodness of your heart?” She spat at him, doing what she could to ignore the pain that speaking caused her and the confusion at the whole situation. She wasn’t going to look confused, not when he spoke to her with a tone like she was so far beneath him. She couldn’t stand the condescension that dripped through his words. Little Captain. Being called that bothered her more than she cared to admit, more than it should. An acknowledgement of her lack of importance. Acknowledgement? Why was that the word that came to mind? It shouldn’t be. It wasn’t true. She wasn’t unimportant. Sparklez hadn’t—None of this mattered! She needed to know what he had done to her, what he was planning to do to her. There was absolutely no reason that he should’ve been able to bring her back to life, only Ianite should be able to, so he must be lying, but for what gain? Dianite smiled a wide, unpleasant smile. She hadn’t realised. Of course she hadn’t, she hadn’t had a moment to process. That would make this all the more fun. He stepped closer to her, uncomfortably close. Capsize hated having to look up at him.

“No, nothing so noble, though I’m sure you already knew that. A question for you: do you know what happens when someone is killed in a god’s temple by said god’s follower?” He asked, speaking slowly as if he was explaining to a child. Or perhaps the world itself had slowed down as reality dawned on Capsize. She shook her head, backed away as every thought in her head was rushing to find any alternative explanation. This wasn’t reality. This wasn’t happening. Dianite chuckled at her reaction, making her panic grow all the more, as she knew damn well what his words meant. She tried to hold her composure, having very little success. Her world was falling apart before he spoke again to confirm his meaning, to grind any hope she had left into dust. “Furia made you a sacrifice. Your soul, your very being belongs to me.”

“No! No, I—! I don’t belong to anyone!” She yelled at him as she tried to figure out any explanation that meant his words weren’t true. She couldn’t have spent her whole life devoted to Ianite only to end up the bastard’s plaything because of a single moment. She couldn’t breathe again, her chest feeling unbelievably tight. This couldn’t be happening. Somehow, this wasn’t real. She must’ve been knocked into a nightmare somehow. No. No, she knew she was in reality that obviously, and terribly, this was real. But what did that matter? She had been chosen for the mission to save Ianite. She was not going to let anything stop her. She wasn’t going to let Lord Dianite have control over her life. She just needed to think, there was some solution to this. She looked up with as much determination as she could muster, mostly driven by spite. “And what? You’ve locked me up? I wait a few days and Ianite tells Sparklez where to find me, and the sacrifice doesn’t matter if I’m alive, does it?”

It would only matter upon death, she reminded herself, as long as they freed Ianite before she died again, the situation could be reversed. She didn’t particularly want to be rescued by Sparklez, but she’d bite back her dislike of the man in this situation, she wasn’t irrational. The heat of the Nether was already bothering her, she didn’t particularly want to be stuck in it for multiple days, but she could hold out. She knew she could last long enough for Ianite to get a message through for the others to come and find her. Dianite had to admit, he admired her optimism. She had never faulted in her loyalty to his sister, even when she was replaced by Sparklez. That was the very reason he'd decided to bring her back for the time being. He was curious if this could actually make her snap. Her dying, her soul belonging to him, he knew both would’ve hurt his sister more than enough. But he couldn’t help it, he needed to see what her precious little captain losing faith would do to her.

“Oh, I’m sure you could survive a few days. You’re only under my temple you know, I’m sure if Sparklez was told he could come running and be here in less than an hour if he really tried,” He began to circle her, unsurprised that she didn’t turn to keep looking at him. She could, if she wanted, the chain wasn’t short enough to be that prohibitive to movement, but she was stubborn. She wasn’t playing whatever game he was playing. She stood her ground. She quickly regretted her decision as Dianite tugged her backwards. He’d grabbed her hair, claws digging into her scalp as she was forced to look up at him. She resisted struggling only because she knew he wanted her too. He wanted an excuse to make the experience even worse than it currently was for her. She scowled, staring with burning eyes at the god that she hated. The god smiled. “But, unfortunately for that idea, they’re all leaving. Setting sail as quickly as possible to that ruined little island you call home. So, you’d need to survive not only the days it’ll take for my sister to slowly build up strength to talk to Sparklez, but all the days it’ll take for him to sail back.”

He smiled widely as her eyes widened, riddled with absolute horror. Every fibre of her being wanted to scream, but she found herself completely unable to make noise at all. This couldn’t be real. There had to be some way of this. She couldn’t just be waiting to die. She was meant to live. She was meant to save Ianite. She wasn’t done yet. Her thoughts were screaming, telling her to kick and scream and fight until this wasn’t reality, but her actual body felt lifeless and defeated as the devil loomed over her, chuckling darkly. And why wouldn’t he be laughing? Even if he lost in the end, he would be satisfied in the knowledge that he had taken away his sister’s precious messenger from her.

He tossed the woman to the ground, curious about how long she would last. She’d always been stubborn, had a certain determination that made her a problem. He’d enjoy watching her struggle and fade away. After all, it was a shame that she had originally been snuffed out in just a couple of moments.

“Have fun, little Captain. I imagine these will be your last few days, it would be terrible if you didn’t enjoy them,” And with those words, Lord Dianite disappeared.

Capsize was left utterly alone. Alone in a room formed completely of nether bricks. No door, no direction to tell where the easiest escape route would be. She wasn’t getting out of here by herself, even if she wasn’t chained to the floor. She was already far too warm. There was a biting fear riding up and tightening her throat. She couldn’t—she couldn’t die here like this! She took her coat off, throwing it into a far corner out of where the chain would allow her to reach. Eventually she’d get so hot that she’d become cold, she couldn’t let her coat be in reach when that happened. She stared at the shackle, at the chain connected to it. It barely felt real. She tugged at it.

Nothing happened. Of course nothing happened, it was a heavy metal chain, she wasn’t going to be able to break it with her hands. She didn’t stop trying, though. She tugged, pulled, kicked, doing anything physically possible that could have any kind of effect on the chain.

And nothing happened.

She realised she was breathing too fast, each breath burning in her throat, but she couldn’t slow it down. There was nothing her mind could grip too. Nothing here was safe or comforting. Even if she tried to focus, she wasn’t going to be safe. All there was, was her quickly tightening chest, a completely empty room, and the absolutely terrible heat. Breathing was beginning to hurt again. Was that because of the speed at which she was breathing, or the heat of the air rushing in and out of her lungs? Why was this happening to her? Had she done something to deserve this? Was this a punishment?

“Capsize! Capsize, breathe with me!” Ianite’s voice filled her head, alongside what sounded like calm breathing. Ianite didn’t need to breathe, and it felt overwhelming to have the sound of another breathing suddenly in her head, but Capsize followed them, nonetheless. She wished there was something more physically, even just a hand on her shoulder so she didn’t feel so dreadfully alone. Such a comfort wasn’t going to come. She was alone. That wasn’t going to change. When she finally got her breathing under control, she ended up sitting with her knees pressing into her chest. She felt pathetic. She should be fighting, doing anything she could to escape, but there was a certain numbness to her thoughts. She couldn’t escape this situation by herself. No one was going to find her before it was too late. It felt clear in her head that she was not leaving this room, but she hated how quickly she had allowed defeat to sink into her thoughts, especially as she could hear the panic and worry in Ianite’s words. “Capsize, are you--? I lost track of you for a few moments… I thought I might’ve… Did he hurt you? What did my brother do to you?”

“Furia killed me. I died in the prayer room,” Her voice was weak. She ran her hand across her neck, wondering what the scar she had surely been left with looked like. She’d never get to see it. There was a sharp intake of breath from Ianite, followed by quiet muttering that she wasn’t really listening to. Ianite clearly knew what it meant, that Dianite had taken something that they were in no position to take back. She hated hearing her in distress. It felt so much worse than the frustrations she’d been hearing for the past few weeks. She longed for the frustrations, for the goddess to be begging her to give Sparklez a chance. At least that hadn’t come with the knowledge of her own impending death. “Dianite revived me, locked me up under his temple. Think his plan is to wait for me to die again.”

“No… no!” It was clear that Ianite wanted to say more, she needed to figure out a way out of this situation where Capsize didn’t die. Capsize herself wondered if she was missing something. Maybe she was just pessimistic at this particular moment, but she felt pretty stuck in this situation. It wasn’t as if she was happy about it, frankly she was terrified what dying while her soul belonged to Lord Dianite meant. Was her afterlife going to be robbed from her? It was a sickening thought that invaded her mind. She barely managed to keep her composure that she desperately wanted to keep a hold of. She didn’t need to be calm. There wasn’t a soul in the realm that would judge her for breaking in this situation, but she almost felt the need to be some kind of comforting calm force for the goddess. “I’ll build my strength, tell Jordan where you are. He’ll save you. I know he will.”

“He’ll try, but I’m told the Champions and Skipper are headed to Ianerea. He won’t make it in time. Don’t waste your strength,” She hoped her own fear wasn’t betrayed by her tone. She knew that she was giving up. She didn’t want to, obviously she didn’t want to die, but what she wanted even less was for her brother to find out she’d died twice. Redbeard was stronger than anyone back home had given him credit for, stronger than he gave himself credit for, and probably stronger than she gave him credit for. But she knew, no one was prepared to find their sibling’s corpse, let alone see that they died for a second time. If the situation was reversed, if she found out that she’d accidently left him to this fate, it’d break her. She didn’t want him to suffer like that, not when he was surely already hurting.

“It wouldn’t be a waste! You’re my friend, I am not just going to let you die!” There was a choked sob from Ianite. Capsize felt ashamed. Mostly from the shameful numb pang she had from hearing the goddess refer to her as a friend. She should appreciate the title and the friendship that she had, but nothing was ever good enough for her, and she quietly resented herself for it. She felt even worse that she’d made her goddess cry. So, she tried, she really tried to think of some way anyone could arrive in time to find her alive. And, a clear obvious name appeared in her mind, a tiny burning ember of hope.

“Fox…”

“Firefox?”

“She didn’t come with us. I doubt the others would’ve gone to get her before leaving. If you can tell her where I am, I think there’s a chance she gets here in time,” She didn’t want to put faith in her own words. It’d only hurt more if she let herself believe there was a chance that she’d survive, but she hated the idea of disappointing Ianite. Hopefully Fox would forgive her if she ended up finding her corpse.

“Yes! Okay… okay! I’ll contact Mianite. I… I do not know how long it will take me to build up strength, but I promise Capsize, I am not going to let you die,” She spoke with the same determination as Capsize had about saving her. It was not enough to make the pirate optimistic, another thing she felt unendingly guilty about. Ianite was going to waste her precious strength trying to save her. It was the exact opposite of what was meant to be happening, but even worse, there was a certain happiness within her knowing that Ianite cared enough about her to try and save her. A happy feeling that she wanted to cling to in this terrible moment, but she felt so utterly guilty for doing so. “Please just don’t give up. I will find a way to help you, I promise.”

“I… I believe you, Ia,” She hoped that her voice being so weak wasn’t giving away the fact that she was lying. She considered apologising for the fact that the goddess had to waste any of her strength on her, but she didn’t want to cause any more upset. So, instead she came up with different words. “And thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me Capsize, I… Please pray if you need anything, even just to talk. You know that I am always here for you,” With those words, there was a change in the air that Capsize knew meant Ianite had left her alone. Now it was just her, her thoughts, and the burning Nether heat that she knew was going to kill her.

She could believe in Ianite. That belief was set into her very being. Even in this, the absolute worst of times, she did believe in her goddess. She could believe in Fox. The lass was as good as any of the champions, even if she didn’t get the credit she deserved. There were certainly worse people she could be relying on for the physical act of saving her. She could even believe in herself. She could be stubborn enough to survive for the days it’d take for Ianite to have the strength to speak with her brother. Lord Mianite, though? The god whose own loyal champions admitted to seeing as an absent deity? She’d trust Sparklez before she trusted him.

She was sure this was the end for her. That fact was a lot more painful to admit than she wanted it to be. She was never going to save Ianite, never see her in person again. And worse, she had no idea if she even wanted the others to know of her actual fate.

Redbeard would end up blaming himself. She knew he would, she’d blame herself if this had happened to him. This second death had to stay a secret from him. Maybe when it became clear she wasn’t going to be rescued in time, she’d be able to talk Ianite into keeping this a secret, to keep the others from losing morale. Better they all think she died to Furia’s blade than realising that she suffered. Even Sparklez didn’t deserve that kind of guilt. But was she really going to be able to talk Ianite out of any futile attempts to rescue her?

She sighed at her own thoughts, and kicked the chain connected to her ankle. This was it, the infamous Captain Capsize reduced to a prisoner waiting for death. Someone only pretending to have hope because she couldn’t stand her goddess sounding sad. She felt pathetic. She was an absolute failure. With no energy left, and no ability to do anything else anyway, Capsize curled up on the floor, and began to cry.

#mianite #mianite fanfiction #cat's fanfiction #mianite post time #third times the charm #captain capsize #lady ianite #lord dianite #captain capsize/lady ianite

[shadowbrightshine]

Final rp on this blog of Hatchblr, Will be moving to the blog linked at the end.

TRANSFORMATION

Watcher stormed away, but there was nowhere else to go. John was gone, Tim was dead and a monster was using his name, and she couldn’t reach the Lords that she cared about. The trio of boyfriends were split up by Blinky, and her watcher siblings were scared. She couldn’t do anything about it. Nothing at all. Just like always, she was useless. It was stupid to play Godmother again, she knew how it would end, that’s how it always ended. With pain and betrayal. Useless, useless and weak. What was the point? Boredom. Amusement above all, amusement, boredom and need and desire and love and hatred and-

She’d never see her little brother or sister ever again. 

“I can’t take this anymore!”

The scream echoed across the black. This declaration of pure frustration and desperation for something new reached the ears of the many she’d loved. It crossed the universes, the timelines, and the spaces between them with a blood curdling cry for help. She tried to rip herself apart, she tried to close her eyes, she tried to reach for her family. But she had no chest to rip and make bleed. There were no hands to tear at her skin, and no skin to be torn. There were no eyes to close, and no arms to hold with or be held in. Watcher, Shadow, Watcher of the black is alone. 

Come here, dear thing. Come here. 

Watcher stopped screaming and focused on this new voice. She’d heard the voices of nearly everyone on Earth in her time. She only came back to Hatchetfield because she missed home. This was new. It came from somewhere else. “...Hello?” 

You know where I am, my creation. You’ve caught glimpses of it before. Follow me, follow me. 

They sounded so kind. Like… Like who? She traveled to the edge of this world’s black. Any farther and she’d cross into the world. Only the watchers could hop between universes, or they were the only ones who could cross into them fully. She’d seen Lords communicate, but that was pretty recent in the history of her life. 

Come with me.

It was…Where was it? The infinitesimal space between universes? “You’ll have to lead me. Can you help me?” 

Do you see the cracks? I am behind them. I am them. I am so much more than you could picture. While you are there only the tiniest echo of my voice can reach you. I whisper and let it carry for distances so far, so I do not shatter the place you’re in. That crack is my voice, weakening the universe. Hurry, soon these words will rip it apart entirely. 

Watcher saw it, the glowing crack in the wall-less space. The swap was so quick. Into it she went. The In-between. There was a soft glow of not colors, unlike the Black or the White. She’d never been here before…behind her the crack widened, and split open. She watched the Black be sucked in with her. Soon the entire world she’d just come from was specks spread across this infinitely large and infinitely small space. This place was beautiful. It was changing constantly, and she could hear something like a song. It was so soft; she could stay here forever. Was this the heaven Ronnie told her about? Wait, who was Ronnie…

Come close. You can see me now, can’t you Ella? 

“...Ella?” She traveled, watching the colors change around her. They trailed around her, leading her, guiding her towards the voice. “Who are you?” 

Open your eyes dear, see me. I’m here. 

Shadow gasped. Stretching and spanning a space so large it couldn’t be described was her. She knew who it was. Mother. The Mother. “I-” 

She was massive. Black and white liquid made of glittering stars and glowing lights formed her limbs. In her nails were entire universes, each alive and bustling with life. She could see thousands of them, as her arms lifted the watcher. She- She was so- No-nonononono-

There you are. It is alright, you do not need to try and see all of me. Even you are not strong enough to handle me. I can see you, Ella. Don’t look so hard, you’ll hurt yourself… Remember who you are.

Ella. Ella Orien. Oldest of 4, daughter of Reed Orien and Wendy Orien. Younger siblings named Quincy, Hailey, and Trent. She had 3 siblings, not 2. Not 2, she had a second brother. Hailey was her little sister. She had blonde wavy hair and brown eyes. Trent had blonde hair and blue eyes, and he wanted to be an archaeologist. Quincy had short reddish brown hair and blue eyes, he was starting middle school soon. He had a scar under his right eye after a bike accident and he never rode a bike again. Wendy had bright red hair, and Reed had blonde hair.  Hailey wanted to be a ballerina, and she always asked Ella to tuck her into bed when her parents went to trivia nights. She always knocked on the door later in the night for a hug and to be assured that they were coming back soon. She knew their laughter and their screams and their anger. Her siblings…her family…her friends and her life. The life she’d lived as she searched endlessly for anything to occupy her mind. It was all sitting before her in the palm of this Goddess’ hand. 

There you are. You’ve lived such a long life now. I can see everything you saw. It is time for you to become what I made you for. You were my first Watcher. Such a fitting name for who you are. It was easy to take you from that place and make you what you are now. Ella, I need eyes and a voice. I want to see my children again. I made all these worlds to see how they would grow up and change, depending on what they saw. They are all my children, but they do not know me. I am too great to enter any singular place that I’ve made. My voice is too loud, it shatters the delicate balance of the Black and White and the physical world. With some of them I left fathers, with others I left more siblings, and still others I whispered more ‘human’ thoughts into. Some were human, and others were younger children, and still others were silly and playful. 

It is my nature, I create, and I iterate on those creations. I need others who can speak for me, and who can see for me. I’ve been dormant, resting in the constant creation and blissfully waiting for them to find me. But I’ve grown lonely here, and they are far too focused on the physical world to search for me. That’s why I took you. I wanted to see if I could form a new type of being to serve me. I needed something that started in the physical so you could embody both sides. My children’s home, and the world you come from. You were my first, so you will lead them. You have been nameless and formless for long enough. You are ready, and you are done with my training. I can see the plans you’ve laid out while you hoped to die or to be given a body again. I am happy with them. I return all of the memories you lost your grasp on. You will be the Sister. The oldest of the Watchers, just as you were before. I am proud to call you my daughter. 

“Am I…Getting a body?” So she’d been pulled out for a reason. “Can I see them again?” 

You will. Not for too long, you are no longer of the physical world, not fully. When I took you away, I filled the hole you left across all my creations. You can’t replace that space any longer. But you may see your family again for a short time, and others can tell you about them. Will you be my first Lady of my home? Will you be the Lady of the In-Between? You called yourself Shadow for Black, and for your own absence of self. Now, you will Shine with the light I give to you. I will grant you the power you so desperately wished for, and in return you will be my eyes and my voice. I will share your voice, and the voices of any Watchers who follow you. I want to see my children again. 

Ella cried with the eyes she’d soon receive. “Agreed! Yes yes yes yes! I agree I want to help you! Please, I’ll do anything. I want to be a Lady! I want to help you! I want to help Bitey and Halo and my Watcher brothers and sisters! Please!” 

Then be. 

[Shadow is no longer here. Shiney will be arriving soon. Come and follower her at Giggle's place! ]

#shine post #hatchetblr #hatchetfield #new blog #Giggles #starkid #come check it out

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Perfect Paradise Ch.21 And Don't Tell Me You're Sorry 'Cause You're Not. Baby, When I Know You're Only Sorry You Got Caught

S: "The truth will set you free."

-----------------------

The nightmares began that night.

Visions of aborted timelines plagued Adrien's dreams and ripped sleep from his eyes. The very world ending and the only hope of salvation going back to prevent it from ever happening.

His nightmares were so strong that they grazed against the sleeping minds of his children. Who woke screaming about shattered moons and a brilliant, terrible light unmaking everything.

They were a bit old to sleep all together like they did during a bad storm. But Emma didn't care and Hugo gave only token protest. They slept in his arms while Louis used Adrien's stomach as a pillow.

"Papa?"

"Yes, Hugo?"

"Where's Maman?"

Adrien hoped Hugo couldn't hear how his heart accelerated. "She... She had some things to take care of."

"Hm," Hugo's head sank back down as he drifted off to sleep.

Adrien didn't sleep. Knowing that the nightmare would return if he closed his eyes and drag his children with him. So he stayed awake through the night.

Trying not to think about what these visions of futures past could mean.

-----------------------

Marinette had been crying.

She was never very good at hiding her feelings from him. It was figuring out why that usually gave Adrien trouble. Though in this case the cause of her red eyes was rather obvious.

"I..." Marinette took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

It shouldn't hit him so hard to hear those words. But still Adrien's stomach clenched. Limbs tensing as he resisted the instinct to comfort his wife.

"I'm so, so sorry I didn't-" She took another breath. "-Didn't tell you."

It'd be so easy to just walk up to her and put his arms around Marinette.

"I thought I-I was protecting you. From what your father did."

Adrien's fingernails dug into his palms as he looked away. Forcing himself not to wipe at the growing moisture in her eyes. "You let me think he was a hero, Marinette. A hero," Adrien's voice broke.

Marinette sobbed before she could swallow it down. "I know. I'm... sorry. I just wanted you to be happy. To be free of... all of this!"

His Lady looked so small then. Like they were teenagers all over again. Young, foolish, scared.

"I messed up!" Marinette wiped at her eyes.

"I can't tell you."

"I know I did!"

"It's too dangerous for us to know each other's identities."

"I should've trusted you!"

"I didn't think it mattered that Luka knew."

"I'll be better!"

"Felix always looks like he knows something you don't."

"I promise!"

"I promise."

"I promise."

Adrien forced himself to look Marinette in the eye. Opened his mouth and said the first honest thing that came into his head:

"I want a divorce."

----------------------

Adrien still remembered when he told his kids that Maman and Papa would no longer be living together. The confusion and disbelief in their eyes. Especially Louis.

He remembered the akuma fluttering towards his son's room. Remembered crushing it's fragile body to dust. The rage as he summoned a Cataclysm untransformed for the first time.

"You think you can go after my son!?"

Adrien wasn't sure what happened in that moment but he felt the power of Destruction travel through the psychic connection the akuma had with its master. Hawkmoth's attacks stopped for a whole week.

But they were far more vicious after that. The imbalance fueling her corruptive magic. Making it stronger and her bolder.

It would still be a year before they'd manage to stop her. A year to relearn how to work together with someone that used to be Adrien's other half. Learn how to fight beside someone he no longer trusted.

And they almost failed.

Almost.

-----------------------

...

...

...

It was another year before Adrien was confident enough in his plan to execute it.

Felix threw back his head, downed another glass and slammed it back onto the small table between them. Then poured himself another. Cheeks red from the amount of alcohol in his system. "I gave her the best years of my life and this is how she repays me?"

Adrien made a noncommittal hum. He was rather surprised Kagami waited so long. Then again, Adrien didn't give her more than cryptic warnings. Felix took another long drink and Adrien poured his own into a nearby potted plant.

"Here," Felix refilled Adrien's glass. "Marriage is a fucking lie."

"True enough," Adrien watched Felix carefully. He wasn't prone to clumsiness while drunk but that wasn't what Adrien was looking for.

"Y'know, cousin... you're the only one who's ever cared about me."

Adrien smiled. "I've always cared about you Felix." Shame you can't say the same.

Felix raised his glass for a toast. "Good riddance to ungrateful bitches."

Adrien's teeth clenched but he raised his glass. "To cutting out toxic relationships."

Felix laughed. "Yeah. That." And down it went. Felix's shoulders sagged as his arms went limp. Glass rolling onto the expensive carpet of his sitting room.

"... Felix?"

His cousin sagged into the cozy armchair.

Slowly, Adrien stood and leaned over Felix's sleeping face. Carefully he moved the tie covering the brooch. The Peacock Miraculous.

A chill ran down Adrien's spine as he took the Miraculous off Felix and put it in his breast pocket. There was a flash of blue light as Duusu entered her Miraculous from wherever she was sleeping.

He glanced at Felix but the sleeping potion Adrien put in his drink held.

A hand patted the Peacock Miraculous through the fabric of his suit. It's insignificant weight like a boulder on his chest.

The thought of saying some clever quip crossed his mind but Adrien had places to be. Felix would know soon enough who took the Peacock.

Closing the door to Felix's penthouse behind him Adrien transformed. And Chat Noir raced across the night sky.

...

...

...

Adrien straightened his hair. Using gel to keep it even. He carefully applied makeup to slightly alter his complexion. Taking off his glasses Adrien put in contacts that added a slight tint to the irises. He put on his freshly pressed, custom tailored suit. Cut to make him appear slimmer on camera.

As they had grown older Adrien had gotten tanner and broader. They no longer looked identical without effort. But that never seemed to stop Felix so why should it stop Adrien?

He sat in front of the webcam just in time.

"Don't be bemused it's just the news! Today we have a very special guest. The one and only Felix Graham de Vanily, Argos!"

Adrien nodded seriously at the camera.

"Despite being one of the few Parisian heroes with a public identity catching you for an interview is much harder than that of your masked teammates. What made you decide to agree this time?"

"I have something to confess to the people of Paris."

Nadja's face shifted as she realized this wouldn't be the lighthearted hero interview she was expecting. "Go on."

"I... have lied to you. The Red Moon wasn't the only crime I committed against your city." Adrien's fists clenched out of view of the camera. His words bringing back memories he'd rather forget.

"Because... I was the one that gave Monarch the Miraculous."

Gasps of shock and outrage rolled across the live audience. Nadja's face paled as she interlaced her fingers. Knuckles white to keep from shaking.

"I knew his identity and I traded the other Miraculous for the Peacock."

The audience was shouting now. Some rising to their feet.

Nadja swallowed the anger that also rose up in her. "Who was he?" she demanded. "Who was Monarch!?"

Adrien stared unblinkingly at her accusing glare.

"G- A- ."

Adrien cut the feed as he felt the Veil riling like a stormy sea. He took a breath. Then sprinted for the bathroom. Wiping off the makeup, using hot water to dissolve the gel and taking out the contacts.

In a flash he was out of there and at a decent hotel across town. Where he'd been for the past several hours as host. Nino was waiting for him on one of the balconies.

Before he could say anything Nino's arms were around Adrien's shoulders. He squeezed tightly then let go all too soon. "C'mon, they'll be asking for you."

It wasn't hard to summon the tears of betrayal that his guests expected of him. Adrien felt that all too keenly. No one protested when he excused himself. Hardly anyone asked after him.

It was a show. A grand revenge after years of being the butt of the joke. And Adrien reveled in it. Yes he did. It was every bit the terrible truth he hoped for.

So long waiting for the perfect moment. For a weakness to exploit. Adrien was almost surprised how easy it was. Then again Felix always thought he was the smartest man in the room.

His only regret was not being there to see the look on Felix's face... At least, it used to be.

#perfect paradise #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #felix fathom #ml au #ml fanfic