#[ i know i took forever to respond to this-- but it was one of the first things i wanted to respond to after my return. ]

[kirammanswifey]

Hii, I read your pt 1 n 2 of arcane characters breaking up with their s/o

Would you be able to hurt us(me) even more? Like they took too long to get us back that R already move on with someone better

Pretty pretty please🥺?

what if you never reconciled with arcane's characters after the breakup x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i loved the person who asked me to do this because i had thought about doing it but i didn't know if you guys wanted to read more of this but i guess we'll are masochist. so i ended up depressed after writing this, and that's saying a lot for a psychology student, the one i found the saddest and the hardest to write was jinx's, i love writing sad things but it's already too much suffering, later I'll come up with something lighter and nicer. as you guys know, requests are open ;)

break up link:

reconciliation link:

Viktor

The auditorium filled with applause as you finished your presentation. The project you had worked tirelessly on was finally being recognized. You felt proud, but also empty, as if something important was missing. As you looked up, you saw him. Viktor, at the back of the room, trying to go unnoticed, almost ready to leave.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized him. It had been two months since the breakup, two months of complete silence. Without thinking, you called his name. "Viktor."

He stopped, turning slowly toward you. The auditorium's light accentuated the paleness of his face, his sunken eyes, and his thin body seemed even more fragile. Concern washed over you instantly, but you held back the urge to approach and ask what was happening to him.

"How are you? How have things been going?" you managed to say, though your voice trembled slightly, betraying the calm you were trying to project.

"Fine." His response was cold, distant, almost mechanical. "The lab is progressing. The projects are going as expected."

Each word of his was a dagger, his formality making you feel like a stranger, as if you had never been part of his life. The lump in your throat grew, but you forced yourself to continue. You couldn't leave things like this.

"Why didn’t you reach out, Viktor? Do you still feel the same?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper, fearing the answer but needing to hear it.

Viktor closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before responding. "Yes, I still feel the same. What I’m doing is bigger than us. I can't afford distractions."

His voice was firm, but you could sense the slight hesitation, the pain he was trying to hide. Despite that, it hurt more than you expected. You nodded slowly, accepting the inevitable, though it broke your heart.

"Thank you for coming," you said coldly, matching the distance he had put between you. "I appreciate you taking the time to listen to me."

You turned around, ready to leave before the tears betrayed your façade. But as you walked away, you felt his eyes on you, almost as if he was waiting for something more, something you weren’t willing to give.

Viktor stood there, motionless, internally conflicted. In his mind, every memory with you fought against his convictions. He wanted to approach, to risk a second chance, to ask you to come back. The thought of losing you forever was suffocating him, but he also feared that his illness, his obsession with science, was too much for you to bear.

Finally, he decided to take that step, to approach you, to break the barrier he had built himself. But by the time he gathered the courage, it was too late. You had been intercepted by a colleague, a man who radiated health and vitality, someone who made you smile in a way Viktor couldn’t remember seeing for a long time.

From afar, Viktor watched, his heart breaking as he saw how the man made you laugh, how he looked at you with admiration. In that moment, he understood something he had always feared: you deserved someone better than him, someone who could be completely with you without the chains of science and illness.

He decided to leave, convinced that intervening would only cause you more pain. He didn’t know that as he walked away, you were watching him from afar, with a broken heart, wishing he had fought for you, even just a little more.

Jinx

Days passed after that heartbreaking farewell. The memories piled up in your mind, like broken pieces of a puzzle you could never put back together. Jinx's absence was a crushing weight, leaving you breathless, powerless. Her laughter, her mischief, her uncontrollable chaos... all had disappeared, and in their place, only an unbearable void remained.

One afternoon, as the rain furiously pounded against the windows and the sky was draped in gray, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew exactly where to find her. On somber days, Jinx always sought refuge at the cliff, a place where the world seemed to end and the abyss opened before her like an invitation.

You ran through the rain, feeling each drop like needles on your skin, every step filled with a desperation that was suffocating you. When you reached the cliff, your heart stopped. Jinx wasn’t sitting, as she usually did, lost in her thoughts. She was standing, at the edge of the abyss, her slender figure barely visible in the mist.

But before you could take another step, she jumped.

The scream that tore from your throat was heart-wrenching, an echo lost in the wind. You ran to the edge, but what you saw below froze your blood. Jinx lay on the rocks, her body shattered by the fall, motionless, lifeless. The sight left you petrified, unable to move, unable to breathe.

The days that followed were torment. Guilt consumed you. What if you had arrived earlier? What if you had said something different? What if you had hugged her tighter? The questions haunted you, whispering in your ear that it was all your fault, that you hadn’t done enough to save her.

You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep. You just returned to that cliff over and over again, hoping to find answers in the void Jinx had left. But all you found was more silence, more loneliness.

One night, when the moon barely peeked through the clouds, the weight became unbearable. You couldn’t go on without her. You decided it was time to join Jinx, to follow her steps into the abyss. You walked to the edge, feeling the cold wind on your skin, and looked down at the place where your love had met its end.

Then, a vision stopped you. Jinx appeared before you, but not like the last time. She was smiling, her gaze sweet and mischievous, like when she used to laugh at your jokes or drag you into her chaotic adventures. "Don't be sad, sugar," she whispered. "I'm here. I'll always be here."

Her words, though you knew they were just a hallucination, filled you with a strange comfort. You smiled, tears rolling down your cheeks. "I'm going to be with you," you promised her. And without thinking further, you leapt into the abyss, letting the darkness take you, driven by the desire to be with Jinx once more.

Upon impact, everything became silence. But in that silence, there was something more. A whisper, an echo of eternal love.

In every universe, in every possible existence, you two would always be together. Even in death, even in the void. Because your love was that strong, that eternal.

Vi

Vi had spent two years engulfed in a darkness she couldn’t escape. After you left her, everything became a whirlwind of underground fights and empty bottles. Each punch she took, each night spent alone in the darkest corners of Zaun, made her think of you, of what she had lost. In her mind, she was always sure you would come back for her, that your love for her would be strong enough to forgive her. But days turned into weeks, then into months, and eventually, years. And you never came back.

One day, a job brought her to Piltover. A corrupt politician had paid her to "teach a lesson" to someone who owed him money. The money was enough for Vi to accept without asking questions. She was walking through the gleaming streets of the city when her body collided with someone else's.

“Sorry,” she said automatically, but when she looked up, she was left breathless. It was you. More radiant than ever, with a presence that seemed to light up even the cold stone of Piltover. Vi couldn’t help herself, she hugged you tightly as if her life depended on it. “I missed you so much,” she whispered into your hair. But her world stopped when she didn’t feel your arms returning the embrace. Instead, your body was stiff, distant.

You gently pulled away, but your gaze was like a dagger. “What’s wrong?” Vi asked, her voice trembling with confusion and the pain now flooding her. “Why are you treating me like this?”

Your expression hardened, and your words were cold, sharp as steel. “Do you really expect me to welcome you with open arms after what you did? After what you said?” Your eyes burned with a fire Vi didn’t recognize, a fire from someone who had suffered and changed. “You left me, Violet. You said things that broke me. And now, after two years, you expect me to greet you like nothing happened?”

Vi tried to respond, but the words died in her throat. There weren’t enough excuses to explain what she had done.

You continued, not giving her a moment to breathe. “Things changed when you left, Violet.” You raised your hand, showing a ring that gleamed under the sunlight. “My parents married me off to someone from the Council. At first, I thought it would be the end of the world, that I’d never get over it. But now… now I’m happy.” You paused, letting your words sink into Vi like a slow-acting poison. “I have a family. I have stability. And I’m happy. With you, Violet, I would never have had that.”

Vi looked at you, unsure of what to do, what to say. In her mind, you were still the person who loved her, but now, standing before her, you had transformed into someone completely different.

At that moment, a man approached. Tall, in his thirties, with a well-groomed beard, and in his arms, a small child with a smile Vi instantly recognized as yours. The man kissed you on the cheek and then handed you the child. Your face lit up with love as you held him.

“Sweetheart, did you find what you were looking for?” the man asked, glancing at Vi with curiosity. “Is she a friend of yours?”

Vi felt like the ground crumbled beneath her feet. You looked back at her, but now, your eyes were just cold reflections of the past. “No,” you said with a tone that cut Vi to the core. “Just someone I used to know.”

Without another word, you turned away, the man beside you, the child in your arms, and the three of you walked off, a perfect picture of the happiness Vi had always dreamed of but could never achieve.

Vi stood there, motionless, in the middle of the street, as tears streamed uncontrollably down her face. Her entire world crumbled in that instant. Everything she had believed, everything she had hoped for, was gone. And now she knew she would live with regret for the rest of her life.

Caitlyn

The trial was a brutal display of coldness. You stood there, in the center, surrounded by the faces of Piltover who had once respected you. But now, you were nothing more than a traitor to them. Your hands were cuffed behind your back, your gaze fixed on Caitlyn, waiting... begging for her to say something, to defend you, to plead on your behalf. But she remained silent, rigid, her expression unyielding. The façade of the perfect enforcer intact, as you crumbled.

As you left the court, the cold air hit you harder than the judges' words. Caitlyn approached the guards, requesting to personally escort you to the edge of exile. Your eyes met hers, seeking answers, some sign that there was still something between you.

"Why?" you whispered, your voice breaking.

Caitlyn looked at you, her face colder than ever. "I did what I had to do," she said with a hardness that made you shiver. "If you had done the same, you wouldn't be in this situation."

There were no more words. No goodbyes. Just a chasm that opened between you, killing everything that had ever existed.

A year later, Piltover was burning in chaos. Zaun's gangsters had unleashed a revolt, and Caitlyn, always the leader, was on the front lines. The battle roared around her, but she didn't see the attacker coming until it was too late. The blade of a knife gleamed in the air, aimed at her, until a precise shot stopped the assailant.

Caitlyn turned, her rifle pointed at her supposed savior. "Back off," she ordered firmly, though her heart was racing.

The figure in front of her removed the owl mask, revealing a face that took her breath away.

"You're still an exceptional shooter, Cait," you said with a sad smile, your voice laden with painful nostalgia.

The chaos had ceased, the silence weighed between you. Caitlyn didn't understand how everything had ended so quickly, how her men had been immobilized. Her eyes filled with questions, and you, with a flash of understanding, gave her the answer before she could formulate it.

"It was us."

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. "Us?"

You laughed, a sound that carried both sadness and resignation. "I'm part of the Firelights. We heard about the revolt and came to the rescue. We don't want more trouble between Piltover and Zaun, so we stopped it to avoid reprisals."

Caitlyn's eyes widened, recognizing the rebel group that had caused so many headaches for the Enforcers.

"They took me in when I was exiled to Zaun," you continued with a touch of sadness. "They're my family now."

Caitlyn stepped forward, regret etching her face. "I... I missed you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I regret not defending you."

But before she could say more, a figure riding a hoverboard approached. Wearing a mask similar to yours, his dark skin and white hair gave him away: Ekko, the leader of the Firelights.

"All clear. Let's go, babe," he said, extending a hand to you. Then, he cast a sarcastic glance at Caitlyn. "Looks like the Enforcers don't know how to do their job anymore."

Caitlyn opened her mouth to protest, but you playfully smacked Ekko on the head. "Don't be cheeky," you chided, but the boy just smiled and kissed you tenderly.

Caitlyn froze, watching the scene with disbelief and pain. Seeing the love of her life with someone else was an agony she wasn't prepared to face.

You climbed onto the board with Ekko, but before leaving, you turned to Caitlyn. "I hope you can find happiness someday, Cait," you said softly, your words a reminder that sometimes justice isn't enough to fill the void in the soul.

And with that, you vanished into the air, laughing with Ekko, leaving Caitlyn alone, shattered. She stood there, staring at the spot where you'd disappeared, the regret devouring her inside. But she didn't allow herself to feel more. She had a mess to clean up and a report to deliver. There was no room for pain now, and that would always be her greatest flaw.

Jayce

It had been five months since the last time you saw Jayce, five months since that painful goodbye that had left your heart in pieces. But you didn't allow yourself to stay in that state. You channeled your pain into ambition, into a fierce determination to prove your worth beyond being "Jayce Talis' partner." You joined the world of politics, and against all odds, you managed to gain acceptance into the Council of Piltover.

The news of your rise had spread to every corner of the city, but Jayce, absorbed in his work with Hextech technology and his duties as a Council member, hadn't noticed your progress until that day.

The first Council meeting with your presence was a revelation. All the members praised you, impressed by your intellect and the innovative plans you had proposed for the city. But Jayce heard none of that. His attention was completely captured by you.

You looked different. Your hair, which you used to wear long and dark, was now short and dyed a vibrant coral red. The clothes you wore were more revealing, showing a confidence in yourself he had never seen before. It was as if you were a completely new person, someone who no longer depended on anyone's shadow.

When the meeting ended, Jayce approached you with his characteristic smile, the one that used to melt your heart. "I didn’t expect to see you here," he said with a mix of surprise and admiration. "It seems a lot has changed."

You returned his smile, but there was a touch of disdain in your eyes. "Yes, many things changed in my life when you left, Jayce. Everything got better," you said firmly. "I focused on my career and made a name for myself in Piltover for my skills and intelligence. I'm no longer recognized as Jayce Talis' partner. I'm no longer the pretty doll you used to take to those fancy parties."

Jayce frowned, his expression turning serious. "I never treated you like an object," he replied defensively. "That was always a misunderstanding. I just took care of you and gave you everything you wanted."

You shook your head slowly, your gaze steady on his. "No, Jayce. You clipped my wings. You didn’t let me be who I really am. And I'm so happy you left me because now I’m enjoying life, and I love who I am."

Jayce opened his mouth to say something, but you interrupted him. "There's talk that you have a relationship with Mel Medarda."

The surprise on his face was evident, but he quickly denied it, his tone defensive. "Of course not. We're just partners."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "More like master and slave. It’s pathetic to see how you let yourself be influenced and manipulated by someone else. The Jayce I knew, the one I once loved, would never have allowed that."

Jayce barely heard the reproach. His attention was caught by your words. "You don't love me anymore?" he asked, his voice hurt and low.

You took a deep breath, your eyes meeting his with brutal sincerity. "No, Jayce. I don’t. I’ve moved on from you."

Jayce was left speechless, the emotional blow visible on his face. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy for you to forget him, especially when he hadn’t forgotten you.

Before you left, you stepped a little closer, your voice soft but firm. "And you know what the best part is, Jayce? I didn’t need to hook up with anyone else to do it. I got over you when I learned to focus on myself and my needs. You should do the same."

Without waiting for a response, you turned around and walked away, leaving Jayce there, paralyzed by the weight of your words. It was as if you had slapped him, leaving him breathless, not knowing how to recover from that loss. Because you would be a loss that would hurt him for the rest of his life.

Ekko

Months have passed since that last conversation that ended your relationship. Since then, Zaun has changed, and so have you. You've learned to live without Ekko, though the void he left still hurts. Fate, however, seems determined to cross your paths again. And it is on a rainy night, in an alley you used to walk together, that you meet once more.

Ekko is there, under the dim light of a streetlamp, his silhouette wet from the rain but heavier with guilt. He sees you approach, and something inside him breaks. Time hasn't healed his wounds, only made them deeper.

"I didn’t think I’d see you here again," he murmurs, his voice almost inaudible beneath the sound of the rain.

Your heart races at the sight of him, but you stay firm. "I didn’t think I’d see you again either."

Ekko's eyes scan you, searching for something to give him strength to speak. "How have you been?" he asks, knowing that any answer will be insufficient for the pain he caused.

"I managed," you reply coldly. "And you? Doesn’t Zaun need you anymore?"

Ekko lowers his gaze, ashamed. "Zaun will always need me, but... I've been thinking a lot about us. About what I did, about what I said."

"And have you reached any conclusions?" you ask, keeping your tone distant.

"That I was wrong," he admits, his voice breaking. "That each day without you weighs more on me. That I let you go out of fear, out of responsibility... but I never stopped loving you."

His confession hits you, but it’s not enough to erase the pain. "Ekko, you made your choice. You chose Zaun over us."

"I know," he says, taking a step closer but not daring to move further. "And I regret it. If I could go back, I would. But I can’t. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, that I miss you... that every day I regret more what I lost."

Silence takes over the moment. The rain continues to fall, cold and relentless, like the fate you both share. You look at Ekko, and for a moment, the love you still feel battles against the resentment.

"Ekko, love isn’t enough when it becomes a burden. I can’t go back to that, I can’t be your second place again," you say, trying to maintain your composure.

"I know," he replies, his voice barely a whisper. "But I wanted you to know that I’ll always love you. Even if I can’t fix it, even if I can’t win you back, you’ll always be a part of me."

"And you of me," you admit, finally letting the tears you’ve held back fall. "But it’s too late, Ekko. Too late for us."

Reality sets in, and both of you know it. Without words, you look at each other one last time, each trying to engrave that moment in memory. Finally, you turn away, leaving Ekko alone, with the rain as his only company.

As you walk away, something inside you stops you, as if there are still words left to say. You turn slowly, facing Ekko once more, with the rain falling between you like a curtain of memories and pain.

"Do you remember what you told me the last time we talked?" you ask, your voice trembling but firm. "You said that sometimes there are battles not worth fighting because you know you’ll never win them."

Ekko nods, the weight of his own words reflected in his tired eyes. "Yes, I remember. And I regret saying it."

"Don’t regret it," you say, a bitter smile forming on your lips. "Because you were right. This... us... we were one of those battles. I fought for you, for us, but in the end, we couldn’t win. We couldn’t be what we needed for each other."

Ekko closes his eyes, the pain in his chest intensifying. "I never wanted it to be like this. I never wanted you to lose faith in us."

"Faith wasn’t enough," you reply, your words cutting like a knife. "Not when the battle was lost from the start."

Silence takes over once more, each word a reminder of what was and will never be. Finally, you step back, moving away from Ekko and everything he represents.

"Goodbye, Ekko," you whisper, letting the rain wash away the last tears falling down your cheeks.

Ekko watches you leave, knowing those words will be the last you share. And as you disappear into the distance, his own regret consumes him, leaving him alone with the weight of a battle he should never have abandoned.

Silco

The lights flickered weakly in the brothel of the Undercity, as voices mingled with the clamor of incessant activity. Silco moved through the shadows, his presence as imposing as ever, closing a deal with one of his associates. Everything was going according to plan until his gaze stopped in a dark corner, and he saw you.

You were there, your makeup smeared, and your provocative clothing accentuating the marks of injuries that covered your skin. Silco felt a dry blow in his chest, a combination of anger and suffocating guilt. He couldn’t help but approach you, his hand gripping your arm firmly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with a harsh voice, each word laden with tension he couldn’t hide.

You looked up, your eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and latent hatred, but a bitter smile formed on your lips. "I'm exactly where I should be, Silco. I should never have left this place in the first place."

Silco narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening even more. "Don’t give me evasions. I want the truth."

You sighed deeply, letting the facade fall. Your eyes locked onto his, this time without a trace of the smile. "You want the truth? Very well." Your voice was a whisper laced with pain. "When you decided to abandon me, many started hunting me. I survived some attacks, others I didn’t." Slowly, you brushed your hair aside, revealing the patch over your left eye. "They tore it out. And, like everything in this damn place, they sold it to the highest bidder. Some found it exciting to have the eye of Silco's former 'bitch.'"

The rawness of your words left him immobile. The trauma soaked every syllable, and the guilt Silco felt grew like an oppressive shadow. "I had no one to protect me, no place to go. This brothel was my last refuge. So here I am, back in the only place I should never have left. And surprisingly, I'm doing well. You’d be surprised at what they're willing to pay for an encounter with what once belonged to you."

Silco couldn’t bear the self-degradation in your voice. "I’m going to get you out of here," he said firmly. "I’ll pay whatever it takes and bring you back home."

He leaned in to hug you, but you pushed him away with a scornful gesture. "What’s the matter, Silco? Tired of your new acquisition already? Miss having me under your control, like your personal trophy?" Your voice was lethal poison. "Keep your promises. I’m not going back with you. You taught me that love is an illusion, a mirage that only serves to mask hatred and danger. And sadly, I’m surrounded by both."

Silco swallowed, his facade beginning to crack. "Please," he insisted, his voice tinged with an unusual tremor. "Let me fix this. Let me help you."

But you had already walked away, heading toward an exotic-looking man waiting for you in a corner. "If you’ll excuse me, I have to work."

Without giving him another glance, you left, leaving Silco alone, trapped in a whirlwind of regret and pain. In his attempt to protect you, it was he who had condemned you to this life, and now the weight of his decisions crushed him, plunging him into a darkness even he could not master.

Mel

It was an ordinary day when, upon opening your front door, you found Mel standing there, her eyes red from crying, her face filled with a despair so profound it moved you. Her posture, hunched and fragile, spoke more than any words could. Before you could say anything, she threw herself at you, seeking comfort as if her entire world had collapsed in an instant.

Words tumbled from her mouth in a rush, like a torrent of repressed emotions finally finding an outlet. "I’ve done it... I’ve done everything wrong... I don’t want to lose you. I can’t... please, don’t leave me. I need us to be together again. I can’t live with this lie. I love you, I love you, I’m begging you."

You held her in your arms, feeling her trembling body against yours, a refuge against the internal storm consuming her. You clung to her, hoping that all that had been broken between you could be repaired, but then, an unfamiliar voice interrupted the stillness of that moment.

"Sorry to interrupt," said a familiar female voice, with a tone that shook you. Caitlyn Kiramman appeared in the doorway, her hair disheveled, wearing a white shirt, almost translucent, that Mel recognized instantly. A shiver ran through her as she saw that the shirt belonged to you. Caitlyn smiled, somewhat awkwardly, but serene. "I’ll wait for you in the room," she said calmly before retreating into the house.

Mel, paralyzed, looked at you in disbelief, her anger beginning to awaken. "Seriously?" Her voice broke with disdain, but there was a contained fury in her eyes that you couldn’t ignore. "Caitlyn Kiramman? You couldn’t find a better replacement for me? Seriously?"

You stared at her for a moment before responding with a calmness that only masked the truth behind your words. "No, Mel, I’m not looking for replacements. Caitlyn isn’t here to fill any voids; she’s here for a good time. And let me tell you, she’s done an excellent job at that."

Mel clenched her fists, her face turning red with rage, frustration taking over her. "How could you? Did you cheat on me? With her? After everything we’ve been through?" Her words were sharp, like knives, and her pain became more evident with each passing second.

You remained serene, though something inside you was breaking. "What did you want me to do, Mel? Sit in a corner, crying in a bubble of self-pity, like you probably did all this time? No, Mel, I couldn’t just sit and wait for something to change. Life is too short to keep waiting for the impossible."

Mel’s words came out as a sigh of disappointment. "I’m so disappointed in you," she said, her voice trembling from the impact of your words.

You sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on your chest. "What we were living wasn’t real, Mel. It wasn’t enough for you, and it wasn’t enough for me either. You’ve been living in your mother’s shadow this whole time, looking for something you’ll never find. I can’t keep waiting for you to understand that. You got stuck in your world, and in the meantime, I moved on. I’m not going to apologize for that."

Mel, in tears, tried to get closer, a desperate attempt to capture what was already gone. She tried to kiss you, but you stopped her with unyielding firmness. "Mel," you said with a clear, firm voice. "Don’t do this. Don’t do this to yourself."

She fell to her knees, her face overflowing with pain. "I beg you... please, come back to me. You’re the only real thing I’ve had in my life. I need you, I can’t live without you." Her sobs were heart-wrenching, like a child lost in a cruel world.

You looked at her for a long moment, your heart heavy, but the words that came from your lips were inevitable. "And why didn’t you take care of me, Mel? Why did you let me go so easily? If you really loved me, why did you abandon me? Why did you let me face all of this alone?"

Mel didn’t know what to say. She stayed there, her mouth open, unable to offer any justification. She only murmured one last "I love you" in an almost inaudible whisper.

You sighed deeply, the weight of reality crushing you, and you gently lifted her from the ground, guiding her to the door. "Goodbye, Mel. I hope you can sort things out with your mother. I can’t keep being part of this battle."

The door closed with a dull thud, and it wasn’t just the door to your house that was closing, but also the door to your heart. There was nothing more to do. It was time to let go.

Sevika

The night was shrouded in a dense mist, and the bar buzzed with a mix of laughter, muffled conversations, and the clinking of glasses filled with liquid oblivion. The air was thick, saturated with the smell of tobacco, spilled alcohol, and sweat—a temporary refuge for broken souls. Sevika pushed the bar door open, stumbling slightly, her unsteady steps reflecting the state of her soul. Her dark, glassy eyes scanned the place with a mix of desperation and anxiety, seeking to drown the loneliness that pursued her like a relentless shadow.

When her eyes landed on the bar, her heart stopped for a moment that seemed eternal. There you were, behind the counter, moving with the professional grace of someone who had learned to hide pain behind a mask of indifference. Sevika felt the ground beneath her feet grow unstable, as if the earth itself was rebelling against her presence. She approached slowly, as if each step brought her closer to an abyss she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross.

When she reached the bar, she leaned on the counter with both hands, leaning toward you. Your gaze was a mix of surprise and something colder, something that made her shiver more than any strong drink.

"What do you want to drink?" you asked in a professional, restrained voice, your eyes barely shifting in her direction.

Sevika looked at you, desperately searching for any trace of the warmth you used to have. "I’ve missed you," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper before a knot in her throat broke it. "I’m sorry... God, I’m so sorry for how things ended between us."

She took your hands with unusual clumsiness, kissing them repeatedly as her words fell like broken laments. "I’ve been alone, so alone that I looked for others to forget you, but it didn’t work. No one can make me forget you. Please, give me another chance."

You sighed, and with a calculated gesture, called another colleague to replace you, leading her outside to the back alley. You lit a cigarette calmly, offering her one that she accepted in silence. Both of you smoked, the smoke forming an almost tangible barrier between you.

The silence was finally broken by a question that escaped as a rough whisper from her lips: "Why aren’t you saying anything?"

You finished smoking, dropping the cigarette and crushing it underfoot before facing her directly. "What do you want me to say, Sevika?" Your voice was low, but each word was a dart piercing Sevika's chest.

She frowned, surprised by the coldness in your tone. "I don’t know, something. Something that doesn’t make me feel like a fool."

"Why do you feel like a fool?" you asked, crossing your arms, one eyebrow slightly raised.

Sevika gritted her teeth, her fury beginning to bubble just beneath the surface. "Because I confessed my feelings to you, told you everything I went through, and it seems like you don’t give a damn."

You nodded, as if slowly processing her words before responding with icy calm. "And did you care when you left me? Did you think about how your decision would affect me? Did you think about anyone other than yourself?"

Her words caught in her throat, and for the first time, Sevika didn’t know what to say. Your smile was bitter, triumphant. "Of course not. You’re a selfish person, Sevika. You walked in here by chance, and upon seeing me, suddenly you miss me and want everything back. Well, I’m not buying that crap."

"It’s not like that," she denied desperately. "I miss you, really. I care about you."

Your frown deepened, and you shook your head. "It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. You made your decision, and you have no right to ask me for anything after what you did to me."

Sevika tried to interrupt, but you cut her off sharply. "My break is over. Don’t drink anymore tonight. You’re talking nonsense." And with that, you went back inside, leaving her there, alone in the darkness.

Sevika stayed in the alley, staring at the door that closed behind you, while rage and sadness fused into a silent scream. She punched the wall hard, letting the physical pain try to drown out the torment she felt inside. But deep down, she knew that punch wasn’t enough to erase what she had lost, nor to heal what she had destroyed.

[azriel-delacroix]

Watching the two interact, he couldn't help but draw a parallel between him and his brother. Azriel always regarded him and Kai on the same level when protecting their sister, and they were. However, Kai protected him the most– and it often left Kai taking the penalties for both of them while Az tended to get off scot-free. He wasn't naive to think that the repressed anger wasn't just because of the coven's choices but because he took more onto his shoulders than he should have. A shuddered breath left Gluttony's lips, eyes widening, his voice quiet as he whispered, "you can hear me." Gluttony was so used to speaking in his mind, in his dreams, that he wondered if he was going insane or if he would be punished in his dreams, too, and forever be unheard. The Prince made no hesitation in wrapping his arms around Lust tightly like he would slip through his fingers and leave him on his own to crumble under the pressure. He knew how much he missed his brother, missed him with every fiber of his being, but seeing Lust again drove home the open chasm in his chest that couldn't be filled other than with the presence of his brother. His safety net and his other half. When Lust explained how he was there, Gluttony's brown eyes flicked to Azriel, mouthing a small 'thank you'. In response, the witch nodded, his gaze moving from between the two brothers huddling together before phasing out. Lust would feel Az never left, but they didn't need an outsider spectating. Gluttony's gaze moved back to Lust, a frown deepening on his face at the prospect of telling him what had happened that not even Lust's joke could make him tilt his lips upwards. He didn't know who he was anymore. Anytime the Prince looked in the mirror, the person looking back became more and more of a stranger. "I forgot he was there; we don't cross paths," Gluttony responded after a time before lapsing into silence, a silence that he was so accustomed to in his waking life that it seemed to carry over to his dreams now. It was better that he and Kai didn't cross paths, and while he was fine with the witch before, Gluttony wouldn't be able to handle him now; the Prince was finding out that there wasn't much he could handle anymore. He didn't know how to put into words what happened without breaking down when he realized... it'd be the first time he said it aloud what he'd endured at the hands of their King. Every other time he'd talked about it, he'd written it out... able to dissociate from the words like he was reading about someone else in a story, yet saying it out loud drove home that it was him. Broken, useless. "The King happened," he finally bit out, eyes dropping to his hands as they closed shakily into fists, "I guess he decided to clean house and I was first, figures since I snapped at him. I'm not the only one either; he's going through all of us." Gluttony's lips trembled as his eyes lifted once more to look into Lust's bright ones, shaking his head sadly. "He took everything from me, Lust. Took all of my damn souls," his voice cracked, causing Gluttony to press the heels of his palms into his eyes, but he couldn't stop the slow leaking of tears escaping through the cracks. "He took my voice. I scream and scream, and nothing comes out."

Yes, Gluttony would tell him the same thing, convincing his brother that what happened with their King wasn't his fault when no amount of comforting will diminish shifting the blame unto himself. If he grabbed what precious family he held dear and hauled ass straight to the farmhouse with Azriel in tow, Gluttony and Josephine would not be suffering so profusely. The nightmares wouldn't be playing in their minds every single night, the mansion's interior untouched by the disarray, the time spent away would be almost like a vacation. However, Lust rationalized how many things could go wrong in that scenario. The wards don't hold up, the King slipped through into the mind of anyone, perhaps the presence of two princes are difficult to conceal from being tracked. All the male knew is a decision teetering on rushing back home and being with his brother so Gluttony had another support system advocate. Really, the minute he witnessed the state of the mansion pulled him closer and closer to that option. "He will never stop taking the brunt for me." Lust gave his brother one last yearning glance before watching the wisps of darkness emitted by Gluttony's nightmares wrapped themselves around the dream witch's hand and engulfing them both directly into the other prince's mind. A swirling burst of destructive wind seemed to tunnel around the pair as they stepped through, Lust feeling the tightness of Azriel's strong grip cling to him and providing a reminder for what the other instructed. Do not let go.

Azriel's magic progressed an ebb and flow that vanquished the events occurring in Gluttony's dream, offering the Prince mere glimpses of what his brother's deepest and darkest fears presented. He could feel the despair in the atmosphere without fully seeing the contents from the nightmare itself. It is a curious philosophical question, wasn't it? What could a crowned demon Prince of Hell ever fear when he possessed the honor of a royal? A soulless being having nightmares proved that maybe...he and his brothers were not so soulless after all. The King seriously underestimated the expectation his sons had the ability to connect on a personal level that drew them closer together instead of carrying a competitive nature vying for their master's acceptance. Lust didn't hold the closest relationship with a majority of his brothers apart from Gluttony. They were two peas in a pod, gossiping days away, and placing their lives on the line for each other. He wasn't exaggerating to Azriel how Gluts took the blows wherever they were shot from, his brother somehow feeling the need protecting him at all costs. Sure, Lust portrayed over-confident arrogance, but mentally, he was damaged. Sensitive. Experiencing emotions and having to conceal them on a more heightened level. "I'm actually here, brother." The minute his eyes found his brother's and Az released his grasp as permission that it was safe, Lust immediately closed the distance between them and dropped to his knees, throwing his arms around Gluttony in a hug he was too afraid to release the man from. He remained that way for a long moment, savoring the embrace, before finally pulling away. "My corporeal form is here actually, thanks to Az, but it's me." Lust's gaze scanned Gluttony's face, taking in the state of him. "Gluts, what the hell happened while I was gone? The mansion looks like it hasn't been cleaned in weeks. And Kai's here too?" He glanced over at Azriel and back at the prince, attempting a smile, "I see you found my replacement already."

[bandaidrights]

Ratio and Aventurine on a roof top

Aventurine gasps all the stars in the sky and how beautiful the city is with all the colors. Ratio walks a bit behind him, watching as Aventurine walks faster and more animated like as he gets towards the railing. "Isn't it Beautiful? All the colors and the stars" Aventurine asks, smiling up at the sky. "Very beautiful" Ratio responds, not looking at the stars or city, instead watching Aventurine’s eyes light up and his smile grow wider. "I wish we could just stay here forever" Aventurine says quietly, grabbing Ratio's arm and leaning against it, his other hand holding Ratios. "Thank you for taking me here, and out to dinner" the blonde chuckles, looking up at Ratio, his kaleidoscope eyes shining. Ratios face softened, "marry me," He muttered, the language he used was not his normal language, but it sounded very familiar to the blonde, Sigonian, he had asked in Sigonian. Aventurine pulled away to face him, eyes widened, "what?"

Veritas knealed down on one knee, one hand coming up to cup the blonde's left hand, the other digging through his pocket. He pulled out that small box, opened it, and offered it to Aventurine. "Will you marry me, Kakavasha?" Veritas asked once more in Sigonian. He felt Kakavasha's hand shake and he watched as his face grew into shock.

He tried to speak but the words wouldn't come out, so he just nodded over and over again, his free hand coming up to cover his mouth. Veritas smiled, putting the ring on his left ring finger, and stood up. Kakavasha fell into him, his shoulders shaking slightly, Ratio thought he was crying but It turns out he was laughing. "I didnt-" he paused to let out another laugh, "since when do you know sigonian?"

Ratio smiled at his reaction, "since I've known I wanted to be yours, I started learning to suprise you" he took Aventurine’s left hand, now decorated with an engagement ring. He kissed it, and said "I love you." Kakavasha smiled, leaning into kiss Veritas on the lips, "I love you too." He said as he pulled away.

----

I hope u liked, this was ment to be just a whole "Isn't it Beautiful" "yeah it is" thing but I got carried away

[vonbabbitt]

Throwing this in, though I know you have a post saying you're taking a break: I quite like Tetro. The story is exciting, and incredible. You've done an amazing job piecing everything together, and it has lead to me pretty seriously looking into following the footsteps of this project with a story also told in this audio format, since you demonstrated so clearly not only how this was possible, but how this could be done so well for a Killing Game specifically. The latest events, the latest death, as made me incredibly sad, and I feel a lot of emotional turmoil over losing both victims. But despite that, I have enjoyed the loving, losing, and worrying for the future. That's amazing. All of it is amazing. I have my theories and conclusions about who may be guilty and who isn't, but based on the posts I read, I mainly wanted to express an amount of thankfulness that the series exists at all. It's even lead to me writing fanpieces for some character interactions, and I imagine I have a few more in me from all that's gone on. Not only that, but the hard topics of this series have meant a lot to me. Yanagi and Tsuno have especially felt really close to home. The stories they talk about and the things they deal with matter in my own life. And the series as a whole has made me cry over stuff that mattered to me much more than any other media has done in the last year or so, maybe longer, in even broader strokes. All the characters don't just feel like people one could meet, but people I have met. People I have known. And some of those conversations feel just like ones I've had in my own life. You've done something incredible, and the writing has connected to me deeply. And though I can only speak for me, I doubt I'm alone in this. Thank you for this project, and thank you for sharing it so broadly, freely, and completely. Thanks for writing it, and writing daringly, maturely, and earnestly. At least, such are the ways I would describe it.

I hope I can cross paths with you sometime in the future over a creative endeavor. But in the meanwhile, I'll be tuned in to whatever you do for this, and for whatever comes next. As these things are called asks, if you do decide to respond: Who on Tetro is your favorite? Is it the same from when you were initially writing it? And what lead you to choose an audio drama as the medium in question? Thanks, and see ya at the trial.

thank you very very much, im extremely glad that youve been able to connect with my writing on that level and i hope that others have as well! i really enjoyed the writing process for tetro so its always really cool for me when others can enjoy my story as well

also, my favourite is hama! that changed a lot during production, but ive settled on hama as my goat forever i think. sorry to all the other favs i abandoned along the way

i chose the audio drama format because ive always really liked being able to picture things. when i was a kid, i used to fall asleep to audio books every night, and i really liked being able to picture the characters and stories as they were happening. i would always be so disappointed when id go to watch a movie adaptation of a book i liked only to see that everything looked different from in my head lmao.

i also think audio is a really fun format for this type of story! it was a fun challenge to get my points across without having visuals to back my writing. i didnt have very much faith in my ability to do this at first. tetro was originally planned to have a narrator because i didnt think id be able to tell a story without one. when i realized my writing could stand on its own, i took out the narrator and just let myself carry it as best i could. i think it made for some really fun opportunities where the impact of a scene just wouldnt have been nearly as strong if there had been visuals or narration.

i think [Ice Fairy] is a highlight of tetro in terms of audio storytelling - same with [Good Child]. having only audio forces you as the viewer to take a moment to figure out what's happening, which in turn gives you an "oh shit" realization moment that really helps the impact of a scene like [Ice Fairy] or [Good Child]. there are still some more really cool examples of tetro utilizing its format left to come - i hope you enjoy them when they do!

[frozenmoonshine]

Headcanon - TR characters as toddlers

Ok, I know this is extremely random, but I saw some official chibi art earlier, and my eyes melted from how goddamn adorable they all look! So that's where my inspiration came from for this one. Anyways, here's what they were like as babies/toddlers:

TW: none (I think)

MIKEY - We know that he canonically cried a lot as a small kid, so his grandpa had to figure out some way to make him stop. When no toys, no pacifiers, and no amount of attention and whim-fulfilling helped, in a bout of desperation, Mansaku gave little Manjiro a taiyaki he was about to eat himself. And to everyone's surprise, he not only calmed down, but started smiling, so the Sano household has never been out of sweet pastries ever since! Of course Mikey would be a handful at any age, but if there's one saving grace for his 2-4 year old self, it's that he never refused the nap time! However, Shinichiro, and only Shinichiro, had to be the one to put him to sleep!

DRAKEN - The poor baby was inconsolable for days when his mother abandoned him; he was too little to understand what happened, but he instinctively knew and cried his eyes and lungs out. It was threatening to ruin the business of the brothel, so Masawei took it upon himself to personally take care of the kid, so that he'd be quiet. Little did Masawei expect that he'd get attached to 'Ken-bou' in a matter of days, and that that soft spot for him will remain forever! The girls who were off duty would babysit him as well, and over time little Kenny grew into a really calm and well behaved kid, partly because he never had constant caregivers he'd get fully comfortable with, partly because it's his nature.

BAJI - He's been hyperactive since his earliest days! As soon as he learned to walk, he'd be running around the house, touching everything in his way no matter how dangerous. Ryouko couldn't leave him unsupervised even for a blink! "Keep out of the reach of children" was not an option, baby Keisuke was a little devil, and always found ways to climb the furniture and push everything in his way! (Cat behavior much? Yes.) The only thing that could sometimes keep him calm for about 3 minutes were toy animals and animal picture books, but his excitement would fade quickly, and the next thing you know he's chewing on a toy that was on the floor, or about to climb the stovetop! He seriously gave his mom mini heart attacks every hour. So in order to channel all his extra energy, Ryouko decided to sign him up for a karate class at the neighborhood dojo... and the rest is history!

SMILEY & ANGRY - Their parents couldn't separate them even if they tried! The twins would cling on to each other so tightly at all times, as if they were conjoined. And they shared everything as well, from toys, to always being hungry at the same time, always being sleepy at the same time, always pooping their pants at the same time. If one got scolded, the other would for sure cry as well. Only as they were getting older they started getting slightly more separate senses of self and distinct, seemingly opposite personality traits, but their overprotectiveness over each other and their core emotional oneness remained intact.

RAN - He was soooo excited to welcome his baby brother home! He took his role of "nii-chan" very seriously from day one. Their mom thought it was endearing how Ran was referring to Rindou as 'baby' when he was a baby himself! Like, getting all excited while playing, but suddenly putting an index finger over his mouth: "Shh, quiet, the baby is sleeping!", as if he's scolding his toys. One time their mom got worried because Ran was nowhere to be found in the house, and didn't respond to her calling, only to eventually find him standing quietly next to Rindou's cradle for who knows how long. When she asked him what he was doing there, he said he was "protecting the baby". Once Rindou started walking and talking, they'd occasionally fight over toys or snacks, but always made up quickly.

SENJU - She was the cutest little menace, that clung on to Haruchiyo like a possum! Haru loved her too, loved playing with her, and was very careful with her, but he was often annoyed that she was literally his shadow. As soon as she started crawling as a baby, she wouldn't leave him alone, always clinging on to his feet and smiling ear to ear at him. If she had to be temporarily separated from her Haru-nii for whatever reason, she'd throw a tantrum. When it was the nap time, unless Haruchiyo was also expected to nap with her, there was no way she was falling asleep! If Haruchiyo openly disliked certain foods (like vegetables, etc) in front of her, ain't no way in hell she was trying it! Poor baby Haru really didn't have any choice but to be a good role model for her.

[cactusisconfused]

Hi, I wrote a fic :)

Summary: Ghost spirals and gets stuck in his head, Soap helps him out.

-Eternal Ages of Then Now and Again -

-

He said that he would join his life four hours ago. To lay down and give his body rest. Worried was his life for him. “You’ve worked yourself too hard again.” The Scottish voice had said. “When was the last time you took a break?” The voice had asked.

“Ages.” Death would respond.

Ages ago before he was young and before he was old.

Ages ago before he understood the concept of mourning and rage. 

Ages ago when death thought he could bring life.

It was ages ago when he learned otherwise.

Ages ago his father had beaten him.

Ages ago his family dies.

Ages ago Roba finds him.

He’s trapped in that cell for ages.

Touched for ages.

Locked in a box for ages.

Walked the same desert for ages.

Felt like he was falling for ages.

Then it starts again. Always. Forever. Repeating for ages.

His father berates him, beats him, kills all innocence.

His family dies, their bodies drenching the bright pine tree in a least festive red.

Simon runs away.

Ghost takes his place.

Roba finds him.

Roba uses him.

Roba buries him.

Simon stays in the coffin.

Ghost climbs out.

His legs give out once he reaches the Texan border.

Again his mind plagues him. 

Ages has it been since his mind rested. Because for now and every blink, every idle thought does the ages of death fill his restless dreams. Ages do they fill his tired bones and squeeze and push into the corners of his muscles and make a home in his pupils, finding the next life to meet death.

It doesn’t stop. It never stops. It’s been happening for ages. It’s been happening again. And again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and

again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and

again and again and 

again and again and

again and again and

again and again and-

“Simon?” A voice from the bed a few feet, a few miles, a few inches away, speaks from the bed. The voice is Scottish, one deepened and raspy from sleep. A voice that throws a punch to his shoulder, a confident grin under a flirty tone. One that death will find and will swallow his life up whole. There’s a quiet, knowing sigh.

Ghost doesn’t respond to Johnny calling his name, admittedly he’s not even sure if Johnny’s voice was even real. It’s just another voice again. Again one to follow him, again one to torment him again and again and again and again and again and again an-

Careful arms wrap around his shoulders from behind him, rough stubble meeting his neck. “It’s a nice night out, no clouds, nice and cool.” Life says with a small smile, his warm hand guiding Ghost’s face gently to look out of the window. The moon is bright, watching diligently and elegantly over this sleeping part of the world.

“I used to sneak out with my sister when I was younger to see the sunset, soon then afterwards, would we gaze at the stars. She was 17, just got her first car. I was 13, she’d offered me to tag along, get out of the house.” Says the warm body around him, eyes glancing at the stars.

“We’d stop by a small bakery that a friend of hers worked at, grab a bite or two, then head out in her car. Beaten up was the poor machine, but it was hers and she treated it as though it were made of the finest gold and porcelain.” Ghost isn’t sure when time stopped moving in circles, when he stopped seeing the images of the lives he’s taken that took to hanging and dancing around in his sickened mind. Quietly MacTavish spoke, the words a vine of brilliant strength for death's parasitic arms and failing arms to cling to.

“We found a good hill away from Glasgow, near the ocean. Sometimes we’d talk about our troubles, our fears and doubts.” Life’s voice trailed off, the sound mixing and stilling with the darkness surrounding them, turning it into an embrace; no longer was it the tight void it once was. 

Johnny’s eyes move to look at ghost from the side of his eyes. Bright and lively powder blue meets dark whiskey brown.

“She would say that under the stars, whispers of the daring, of the lost and of the damned would guide amongst its cooler winds, drifting into a whistling tune that no human could make out but in some way, always understand. Sorrows and joy to merge together for no one creature but all to know.” A warm, tired smile forms on the Scot’s face before his head moves to lean on Simon’s own.

Simon isn’t sure how long they stayed like that, Simon in Johnny’s arms as they gaze out the window, the sound of quiet wind outside blowing against the glass window. How long Johnny talked about this or that.

Ages has it been since Simon found himself relaxed. 

Now, he finds his eyelids falling on themselves as his buzzing nerves fade. Simon knows that death does not belong in life’s arms, but for this moment, as never once before, he’ll allow himself a moment of respite.

“Couldn’t stop thinking?” The scot asks after a silence fell between themselves and the world for a long moment. Simon could only nod. This wasn’t the first time he had ever spiraled, nor would it be the last. But instead of the whirlpool they became on his own, ones with mountain tall waves and drawing currents, they became loose streams lapping at his feet, the sea foam bubbling then receding back to the powder blue. Johnny nods back in understanding.

They find their way to bed together, Simon on his back and Johnny laying at his side, his tanned hand resting over his heart. Ghost’s mask is discarded somewhere on the floor.

“I…” Simon starts his voice giving out, unsure of how to start. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to bed sooner. Didn’t mean to leave you in the dust.” His chest rumbles with the grit of his voice, his eyes staring only at the ceiling. “Jus’...started thinking, then started hearing and seeing and…I thought I’d gotten better at stopping it. Still sneaks up on me..” Johnny kisses Simon’s pale cheek softly. “You have nothing to apologize for, Si. You know I’ve fallen into my own head time and time again, and always, you were there to fish me out. It’s only fair that I do the same, what with trying to be a good boyfriend and all.” A pause. “We’re both a bit fucked but that is what makes us fun, no?” There’s a smile in Johnny’s voice that Simon can’t resist, his own scarred mouth stretching slightly in a small content thing as his eyes glance down to look at his lover’s face.

 “Plus I'm MacTavish,” The Scot says, shifting to lay more against the brit. “We take care of the things we love like the finest gold and porcelain.”  Something about the way Johnny’s eyes look up at Simon is filled with such an adoration that Simon almost has to look away. Yet, his eyes linger on the man next to him. 

Never once had death thought he deserved to be looked at this way, to be looked after this way. To be loved and cherished for now and ages to come.

But then again, what is death without life and life without death. Intertwined should they be, for all the ages that pass eternally by.

-

If you would like to leave kudos at all or just want it, here’s the Ao3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62062321

[youngbounty]

I'll See You in Your Dreams

Anyone lucky to have a soulmate will see them in their dreams. However, sometimes, they will wake up only remembering a few things about their soulmates. Jonathan Kent cannot remember a single thing about his soulmate. Meanwhile, Damian is placing a spell every time he sleeps so his soulmate won't remember their shared dream or what he looks like

Many of the lucky ones found their soulmates at some point in their lives. Sometimes, it was as children and others as adults. It was unfortunate if it was never at all, but the lucky ones would find their soulmates through their dreams. These dreams came periodically and would bond one with their soulmates. It was like the Disney movie Sleeping Beauty, where Aurora met her prince once upon a dream.

The problem was when the dreamer would not remember that dream or only fractions of the dream. Only a few people ever remembered the exact description of their soulmate. Lois Lane was one of those, being how she knew Clark was her soulmate the moment they first met at work. It took a while for him to realize Lois was his soulmate, having thought it was Lana for a long time.

For Jon, every time he dreamed of his soulmate, he'd wake up not remembering his soulmate. He'd wake up from the most wonderful dream meeting his soulmate without knowing a single fraction of this person. Jon would curl in his bed and cry in his pillow, grieving from the loss of whatever memory of his soulmate he had. If only he could remember something! Anything!

After some months of this, Jon became disheartened and depressed. He just couldn't figure out what to do, so he could remember his soulmate. He tried laying a notepad on his nightstand to draw his soulmate, but the instant he woke up, he'd forget what his soulmate looked like. He even tried to keep the vision of his soulmate from his dreams, only for it to vanish the moment he opened his eyes. The worst part was that Jon couldn't remember anything about the dream with his soulmate outside of how happy and wonderful it was.

While sitting on the roof of his house, his dad came floating next to him.

“Hey Jonno, what's the long face?” Clark asked, seeing his son sitting on the roof looking out on the fields of Hamilton.

Jon shrugged, “Just thinking.”

“What are you thinking about?” Clark asked, sitting next to his son.

Jon sighed, finally confessing, “I've been having dreams of my soulmate for the past few months.”

“Oh?”

“But, every time I wake up, their memories just... vanish.”

“Hm...” Clark responded, understanding Jon's frustration. “I was about your age when I started having dreams of your mother. Of course, I thought it was Lana at the time.”

“You said before. I figured it was because of her name, but at least you remembered something. Even a name. But, I don't even know mine's name or anything. I tried leaving a notepad on my side table, but every time I wake up, my soulmate and the dream is gone,” Jon cried, hugging his legs tightly in frustration. Clark hugged his soul warmly.

“It's alright, son. I never met your mother until many years after I had my first dream. You'll meet her.”

“Erm... I don't know if it's a guy either.”

“Him. Her. Son, you'll find this person. It might take years, but you will find something to remember when you have more of these dreams. Sometimes, with these things, you just need to wait it out,” Clark promised as Jon sniffed, nodding his head.

Jon wanted so much to remember who his soulmate is. He'd give anything to keep a memory, any part of his soulmate or even a name. He'd take a sliver of his soulmate that he would keep in his heart and lock it tight so he'd never forget it. Even if Jon had to wait years to meet this soulmate, he just wanted to keep something of this soulmate to remember forever until they meet.

The dreams came more frequently, but the memories of his soulmate were left a mystery. Jon would purposely take short naps just to see his soulmate and find something to remember. Unfortunately, nothing came, except some words. He couldn't remember the sound of that voice, but he remembered words. Jon wrote each and every one of them down that he could remember. They weren't much, but they were something. Some of these were words of endearment: Beloved and my Love. There was also that sound he did with his teeth.

“Tt,” Jon sounded, trying to match the sound he remembered from his soulmate. He wanted to remember this and lock it in his heart. “Tt.”

Damian had been having dreams of his soulmate ever since he moved in with his father. He had known about soulmates through his mother and grandfather. His grandfather often was the one to tell these stories, being his grandmother was his grandfather's soulmate. However, since leaving the Al Ghul's, he cared not for soulmates, except to reproduce eventual offspring, which this one would not be able to do. There were always other options, but outside of spreading his seed, he did not wish to partake in lovemaking.

It was annoying, because Damian was a lucid dreamer, meaning he knew it was a dream and remembered his dreams and soulmate perfectly. The first time Damian saw his soulmate, he was taken aback by the reality that his soulmate was not a girl. He had never thought or explored the possibility of mating with another boy. However, this one was special and did things to his heart and emotions.

Every moment Damian was with his soulmate, Jonathan Kent, they would being lying under the stars on a grassy field, riding on a horse or sitting on a tree together in the depths of the forest. Jonathan was always pushing Damian to become lost in their dream where they can be whatever they wanted. It was crazy, wild, fantastic and beautiful. There was so much color, so many diamond stars and those beautiful eyes that would stare right back before feeling a chaste kiss on his lips.

In order to release himself of this boy that would make him feel weak, Damian placed an enchantment so this boy would never remember their dream or what he looked like. He preferred it that way and it seemed that Jonathan didn't take much notice. However, he was beginning to act restless. Damian ignored it, not wishing to lose himself into this dream if he can help it. No matter what his heart was doing, he refused to allow himself to lose himself to this boy.

“Hey Dami,” Jon grinned playfully in Damian's dream, flying to Damian before lifting him from under his arms and up in the air.

“Put me down!” Damian commanded, squirming his way out of Jon's grasp, then stopped as soon as their hands touch.

“I don't want this to end, Dami. I want to remember you,” Jon said blissfully, almost pleading as Damian found his eyes on Jon's violet ones. He found himself lost in them, before turning red and looking away.

“Tt.”

“Hm?”

“Beloved, we're in a dream. Once we wake up, we will forget any of this,” Damian said, shyly gazing his eyes back to violet ones that showed true determination.

“Then, I'll find something to remember forever. I want something to take with me,” Jon said quietly and something about his voice made Damian's heart skip.

“Tt.”

Why did Jon always do this to him? They haven't even met and already Damian's heart was doing backflips. It was only a matter of time before they woke up and Jon would forget all of this. So, why did Damian not want to wake up? Why did this fleeting dream feel like a nightmare from the thought of waking up?

The moment Jon met Damian for the first time, he knew it was his soulmate. It was a mix between a dream and a nightmare with all the fighting. However, Jon felt himself continually gravitating to Damian every single time and they could never avoid each other. Not even Damian could avoid Jon. He had eventually stopped using the spell on Jon to remove his memories of their dreams.

Jon never called out or pointed out Damian using any spell to remove memories of their dreams together. If anything, it seemed as if Jon was becoming more affectionate and loving. Damian had to ask.

“Why?” Damian asked in a quiet voice.

“Hm?” Jon asked, whose head was leaning on Damian's shoulder.

“Why do you remain with me? I'm... I know you remember our dreams together,” Damian said, looking away shyly, while still feeling Jon's fingers lacing through his.

“Yeah. I also knew we'd meet eventually. You are the son of Batman.”

“But... aren't you angry I made you so anxious for all these years?” Damian asked, glaring at Jon, who wouldn't help but smile brightly with big violet eyes.

“Not really. Even in our dreams, I knew I would meet you one day and show you that no lack of memory of you would change how I feel. You're my soulmate and I will always meet you in our dreams.”

“Jon...” Damian said in a whisper as Jon hummed. “Please don't leave me.”

“Never,” Jon promised in a whisper, placing a single kiss on Damian's lips.

It felt so real as if those lips belonged together. Damian wanted nothing more than to sleep again, knowing Jon will always meet him in his dreams.

“Say it again,” Jon pleaded as Damian rolled his eyes.

“Tt,” Damian responded, making Jon hum.

[occasional-yan-stuff]

He was always there. Every time you went back, he was always there. You don't know what kept pulling you back to that abandoned old house down the road. Maybe it was the mystery of the place that enchanted you, maybe it was the strange beauty of all the old, worn-out surfaces, or maybe you just couldn't stand to abandon him.

The kids in your neighborhood said the house was haunted, but that couldn't have been right, could it? You were old enough to know that ghosts weren't real, and yet... he was always there. Always sitting at the grand piano in the ball room in that exact same position, always acting as though he hadn't seen you in years whether you'd only been gone for a few months or even just a few minutes.

"I thought I would never see you again!" flinging his arms around your neck with the exact same intonation every time, but ghosts weren't real. You knew ghosts weren't real.

Sometimes you'd catch him staring at a rectangle on the wall that was slightly less faded than the rest of the wall paper. Around the third time you saw him doing this you finally decided to ask.

"What are you looking at?"

"This is a painting of my mother," he responded. It wasn't, of course, but you decided not to push the question.

There were also times when you'd see him blow on the golden candelabra that sat on the little table by the window. The candles were melted to stumps and never had flame in them when he did this. When he did it the first time it resulted in a cloud of dust that he didn't seem to notice, and when you asked about it he simply took your hand and said "more romantic lighting, my dear." You asked him what he meant but all he did was smile at you as the two of you started dancing.

It always ended with dancing. The world- or possibly your mind- filled up with music that you could find the source of, and he took you, and he twirled you, and the hours fell away into nothing. By the end of it he always begged you to stay with him, pleading for you to remain in his home forever. It was a cute little game between the two of you... you think.

One night you actually did try to sleep in one of the old creaky beds in the mansion, but it was far too cold and the whole thing made you itchy and uncomfortable. You checked the other bed rooms but there was no sign of him. Finally, you returned to the ball room. Even at that ungodly hour he was still there, sitting at his piano. You called out his name and he turned around in surprise. "I thought I would never see you again!" And so the cycle repeated and the two of you danced the night away.

He never seemed to like it when you talked about your friends.

"We see each other so little, my dear," he'd say with crossed arms, "can you not lend a bit more attention to me instead?" The way he pretended to be grumpy always made you chuckle. He was pretending, wasn't he?

Each time he held you, he acted like it was the last time he ever would. He took in every part of you, your smell, the feeling of your skin, everything. There had even been a few times that he had licked your neck but he always denied it when you asked. When you were just getting to know him, he would always cry when you wouldn't kiss him.

"What has changed?" he would ask, "have I done something wrong?"

"What are you talking about?" you would respond, "we've never kissed before."

"Oh, how I hate when you play this game!" was all he would say in response. Always the same intonation. Always the same expression. Always the same.

You started going back more and more, longer and longer. You always felt tired after leaving the mansion. Fatigued, like waking up from a dream. Sometimes you would return home with wrinkles you didn't remember having or a band aid you could have sworn you never put on. Scrolling through your friends' social media pages, you'd see pictures with you in them. Pictures you didn't remember being taken.

every time you went back things seemed just a bit different. The candles grew taller and taller, the wall paper more vibrant, and a painting of a woman was placed on the wall. When did that get there? Every night was just the same. You danced, you kissed, you loved. It was paradise. He was paradise.

One night, after a particularly long visit, you returned home. You hadn't wanted to but you had a life outside the mansion... didn't you? You stepped back into your home and a man was there, a man you had never met. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you.

"so, how was work?"

No. This was wrong. You pushed him off of you and rushed into the bathroom. Your eyes fell onto the mirror and you clapped your hand over your mouth. The person staring back at you was near unrecognizable. It was you, sort of, but at the same time not at all. You stared down at your shaking hands. Your left had a golden ring on one of its fingers. You hadn't put that there. You hadn't put that there! This was all wrong. All so very very wrong. Tears played at the corners of your eyes as you rushed out of the house and back down the road. The mansion was the only place you felt safe anymore. The mansion was the only place you were yourself anymore. You ran and you ran all the way to the ball room. Your breath was heavy and sweat glued your hair to the ball room.

"I never thought I would see you again!"

The night played out as it always did. You danced, you kissed, you loved. Just as always, he begged you to stay. This time you said yes.

[thevoidstaredback]

One of the perks of being King means that he can talk to the Realms Herself and She usually responds. One of the cons is that She likes to mess with him. A lot. Especially when it’s inconvenient for him.

Phantom and Deadman found themselves outside the Phantom’s Keep, the castle in the middle of the Realms. She’d made the trip quick for them, but had been oddly silent the whole why. When they’d arrived, Phantom knew why.

When Dark Pariah had been sealed in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, Pariah’s Keep had deteriorated, breaking down and collapsing on itself. When Phantom took the Crown and Ring, the Keep rebuilt itself, changing to better fit Phantom. Looking at it now, though, it was changing again. The changes were unnatural, and obviously not the Realms’ doing.

Someone was making a claim before a challenge.

“Why did you hide this from me?” he asked the Realms. She didn’t answer.

“I’ll go report this back to the others,” Deadman said, “Do you think you’ll be able to come back?”

Phantom sighed, “Before this is dealt with? I don’t know.” He paused, his eyes still not leaving the Keep.

“You have an idea of who’s behind this, huh?”

“Yeah. I think he’s behind everything.”

“What?”

“The Comas that are practically a plagiarism of Nocturn’s work? Someone trying to open a portal into the Realms? It all screams human-orchestrated, but I think there’s a ghost pulling the strings.”

“Vengeful?”

“Most definitely.”

“What do we do?”

“Tell the others that I’m officially taking over the investigations. All of them. Have Constantine and Zatanna go to the League of Assassins, take a Bat if they need, and shut down anything that even looks like it could be a portal. If they can get Ra’s near the Pits, I’ll take care of it from there from inside the Realms. As for the Comas, I want you to take the Speedsters and the Supers and investigate any hauntings in the areas where the coma patients live.”

“Are you sure bringing them is a good idea? What if they get overshadowed?”

“Any Spirit or Ghost hauntings shouldn’t be strong enough to overpower them, but the House might have something to protect them. Take Captain Marvel, too, just in case.”

“Alright. Anything else?”

“Have Batman, Raven, and Wonder Woman, look into the D.M.A, specifically the branch that used to be the G.I.W.”

A gasp. “You don’t think…”

“They’re involved somehow, I know it.”

“Alright.” Deadman said, “You’ll be safe, won’t you, Phantom?”

“‘Course I will.”

***

Deadman made it back using the same door he and Phantom had come through in the first place, largely because that’s where the Realms lead him. The House greeted him on the other side, changing the halls so he’d be with the rest of his team almost immediately.

Zatanna was the first to see him. “Deadman!”

“What’s going on?” Constantine asked, “Why’d you two rush out like that?”

“We’ve got a problem.”

“Well, that’s comforting.” Raven snarked.

Deadman shook his head. “Get Batman, Superman, The Flash, and Wonder Woman on a call. I need to talk to all of you.”

“That can’t mean anything good,” Zatanna said, doing as asked.

The House brought them a T.V. for the conference call, Zatanna stepped out to make sure Superman was paying attention. Soon, everyone that had been asked for was present in the call, masks on of course, and in their respective bases.

“King Phantom asked me to inform you all that he’s officially taking lead on both the Portal Case and the Coma Case.” Deadman started, “With recent evidence, he believes them to be connected.”

“Where is Phantom?” Wonder Woman asked.

“Someone’s attacked Phantom’s Keep in the Infinite Realms, so he’s dealing with that.” Clearly, everyone had questions, but he ignored them. “He wants Constantine, Zatanna, and one of Batman’s cauldron-” there were snickers at the name, “-to go to the League of Assassins base of operations and shut down anything that seems to be related to the portal, natural or artificial. He also wants you guys to try and get Ra’s close to the Lazarus Pits.”

“Why?” Batman grunted.

Deadman shrugged, knowing the exact reason, “He didn’t tell me.”

Batman hummed, typing something on another monitor. “Take Red Robin with you. He’ll be able to get you in and out safely,”

“Alright,” Constantine nodded.

“Flash and Superman? Phantom wants you and your sidekicks to come with me and Captain Marvel to check out the Coma Case. He has a theory he wants us to check on.”

“Which is..?” Superman prompted, Superboy popping into frame behind him.

“If he’s right, then we’ll find some Ghosts or Spirits near where our victims were affected.”

“Oh, no,” Flash shook his head, “I’m not about to get myself, Kid, or Impulse haunted!”

Impulse ran in, skidding to a stop right on the edge of the frame. “What’s this about ghosts?”

Kid Flash was the next in, “Are we going ghost hunting? I’ll go get our stuff!”

“You have ghost hunting gear?” Superboy asked.

“Don’t you?” was the response.

“I guess that matter’s settled,” Superman sighed.

Wonder Woman muted both Superman and The Flash so the conversation could continue. “And the rest of us?”

“Batman, Raven, and Wonder Woman. He wants you to look into the Department of Metahuman Affairs. Specifically a branch formerly known as the Ghost Investigation Ward.” He watched their expressions carefully, though none of the three he was speaking to reacted. “Phantom thinks they have something to do with this, too.”

There were a few beats of silence before Raven spoke. “I guess we should get started.”

“Right,” Batman said like he was in charge, “Dismissed.”

Part 23 Part 25

[achaotichuman]

OMG where have you been all this time?😭 People like you could have saved me from this series. I was introduced to the pro- fandom first and so I already had this impression on the characters. Then this Cassian walks in with his ‘I am an adorable goofball who doesn’t understand social cues but I have a heart of gold’ attitude and narrates their past. Then the Morrigan history. I WANTED TO CLAW MY EYES OUT. I was so lost, how can anyone think it’s normal? It’s not even a slow unpacking for people to build a barrier yet. I was hoping for his death at the end of WAR but that fucker survives. Then he gets worse and worse.

I honestly don’t care about the plot in these books really, a whole lot of faux women power and male ego and sword swinging which is tbf exhausting at this point. She found one formula that worked best the first time and she’s milking it. She knows her MMCs are more popular than her FMCs which is the saddest thing for a female author writing a female-centric books. But she doesn’t care, she actually is one of the groupies.

Feyre was her self-insert in TAR and her story was at the centre, not Tamlin. SJM was as neutral as a writer can be towards him. But her interests and love shifted to Rhysand and ever since the books have been about him rather than her FMCs. She retired Feyre so she can imprint on Nesta and even then, rhysand gets more attention than Feyre, who is Nesta’s sister, and it is their tumultuous relationship that apparently leads to SF.

The only comfort I have about Gwyriel is that they aren’t enemies as of now, they have childish banter and some understanding. So there wouldn’t be that heavy tension Feysand or Nessian had. So I’m hoping Gwyn won’t be traumatised for Azriel’s sad boy wallowing. But SJM won’t give up on violence and it’s concerning since both already have a terrible past.

I’d rather have Lucien happily prancing around in Spring all alone than him ending up with Elain😭 That man deserves some happiness and I KNOW how this is going to go down.

(P.S DID YOU SEE THE NERIS POST? DID YOU SEE THE NERIS POST? TELL ME YOU SAW THE NERIS POST!!)

Well this took me forever to respond to, I am very sorry about that 😭

I get you with being introduced to the Pro-fandom first, I learned about ACOTAR through TikTok shortly after reading TOG, when I tell you I was *fanatic* for these series, I *loved* them. Dived right into the ACOTAR fandom, I knew the entire series plot like the back of my hand before I even read it, so there were no surprises for me when I read it. And whilst I was never 'anti Tamlin' at any point during my read, I was very pro IC for a while, then Silver Flames rolled around and I was like "Yah... fuck this." And I wrote my own fanfiction.

She found one formula that worked best the first time and she’s milking it.

Preach. SJM is praised continuously for being this super #feminist author, when in reality the themes of feminism in her book are extremely shallow and dependent on what her favourite MMC of the book is doing. There is going to be no reality in which the plot of the future books in this series get better, in fact, I suspect they will get far worse. ACOTAR, especially when compared to her other series, is a money maker. Shitty work that is low effort, that follows a specific formula that she is certain works. It's nothing more.

Entirely agree with you on SJM being at the very least neutral on Feyre and Tamlin's story until she fell in love with Rhysand, then she molded Feyre into an accessory of his. It's *especially* evident with Nesta, as you mentioned, Rhysand is still a focal point in Nesta's own story, despite her not liking him and having zero reason to like him. Their relationship, and 'hugging it out' at the end of Silver Flames is *incredibly* forced, Nesta just gave up everything for him after almost dying in the Blood Rite and the only connection she had with him or the IC before the Rite was them physically punishing her and wanting her dead. It was a cheap shot at creating a relationship for Rhysand and Nesta so SJM can fawn over him.

I definitely believe Gwynriel will be the least abusive of the three bat boys relationships, but I have no hope in Gwyn remaining an independent person, with a title of her own, forging her own path and healing on her own. I will bet two dollars at the end of this entire series, Gwyn, Nesta and Elain will all have babies, and ofc, Emerie being the only POC character will be forgotten about and maybe mentioned if we're lucky being seen alongside her shining, far far far more beautiful, definitely doesn't serve, no one knows why she choose her, girlfriend Morrigan.

I can't even with Elucien. I can only pray that SJM retcons Elain's shitty, shitty personality and she's not as much of an asshole in the Elucien arc, but I highly highly doubt it.

(YES YES I SAW THE NERIS POST, I DID I LOVED IT)

[beargregor]

Chef greg delivery just for you. it's a wonder I hadn't bearified him yet, he's my fave greg too 🔪

gays literally only want one thing (to be chopped up and eaten by a depressed man) and it's fucking disgusting

[wormhabitat]

emily axford is a comedic genius

[peachyykira]

.

[gxlden-angels]

Hello! I apologize if this is a nosy question, but what is the silly feelings wheel app you were talking about in a previous post? My therapist and I have been working on identifying feelings but I still very much rely on a list of feeling words to have any idea what I’m feeling, so it could be a helpful resource. No worries if you don’t want to share, just thought I would ask :)

It's called How We Feel! I'm not sure if it's available on all devices yet, but it's on ios and the google play store for sure.

I've been using it for about a year. It's more of a chart than a wheel but people usually recognize the wheel better so that's what I call it. When you first start it has a 10-part tutorial about emotional acceptance and regulation, then it has suggestions for each category of emotion. You can access both at any time tho after those first 10 days.

It has a share option so you can have friends, which has been great for me cause it prompts me to check on friends and them to do the same for me. It allows you to just respond with a little emoji in like a "I'm here for you" little notification to your friend, or you can reach out to your friend on your own. Its really helped me cause I'm bad at reaching out when I need support so to me and I'm bad about taking on other's problems even when I can't handle it so being able to send a little emoji instead to make sure my friends know I'm there if they need me and them doing the same has been great

[the-ferocious-kittyrose]

Simon gets a message from reader while he’s on base. It’s a video. The thumbnail looks like a blurred image of a store isle

Once he has a moment to himself, he’s able to sit back and finally check out what you had sent.

The camera pans down to show yours and simon’s two year old daughter. She has half a mini chocolate muffin clutched in her little baby fist and chocolate smudges on her nose and bright pink cheeks. She’s standing, staring at something out of frame.

The camera is a bit shaky and Simon can hear you trying desperately to hide your laughter.

“Baby,” you say, “baby, look at me.” You bend down to bring the camera closer to your daughter, who only turns to look at you for a second before going back to staring at the same spot out of frame.

“Who is that?”

Your daughter raised one of her chocolate covered hands to point towards whatever it was that had been captivating her the entire video. “Daddy.”

Simon here’s more of your pained stifled laughter and the camera follows your daughter’s gaze, revealing a cheaply made Halloween grim reaper statue, with dusty purple robes, a plastic scythe, and a hilariously misshapen skull face.

He reads the accompanying texts that had followed the video.

[She just started saying “daddy daddy” over and over and it took me forever to figure out what she was talking about]

[for a second I thought, “oh is he here?”]

[Im so dense lol]

[she really misses you ]

[I miss you too]

The next text was a picture of your daughter fast asleep in her car seat. Now cleaned of chocolate, she had replaced her muffin with a giant plastic rat that she hugged to her chest like a teddy bear.

[she refused to leave without it]

Simon smiles. It had been a long time since he had a family. People who loved waiting for him to come home.

Your texts had been sent hours ago, and he felt bad about not responding all day.

[that’s unfair. My mask is made of much better materials]

[I miss you both too. If everything goes right I should be home by Monday]

[and don’t call yourself dense]

Simon thinks for a moment, something eating at him about that video

[I wish she didn’t know about the mask. I don’t want her to see me that way]

You respond quickly, making Simon feel worse about his delayed reply

[Dont worry about that honey. She’s only two, and I think she only saw you wear in mask once once or twice. She’ll forget in a month.]

[She doesn’t see you as anything other than her daddy]

[her daddy and her jungle gym]

[lol yes that too]

[Im sorry I don’t have a lot of time. I’ll try and call you tomorrow]

[ok Im heading to bed now anyway]

[goodnight I love you ❤️]

[goodnight I love you too ❤️]

[springrls]

It’s so evil there’s a mix up with my doctors and insurance for where to send my migraine injections …. It was a blissful 10 days of no migraines, but alas, I’m back to being too light sensitive to go outside for prolonged periods of time✨