#a want to live at the very end. looking to the future and lamenting what they won’t get to see. some motivation to live!

[seaglassdinosaur]

I love Beyonders as much as the next Beyonders fan, but can we acknowledge the fact that the ‘heroic’ ending for the characters who were dealing with suicidal tendencies… was for them to sacrifice their lives? To choose to die? That was pretty messed up, right?

[another-lost-mc]

imagine some bittersweet angst where MC ends up with someone in the human world because she wasn't able to go back to the devildom, so the brothers look after MC's children and future descendants. Like imagine belphegor appearing in front of mc's daughter who calls him "uncle belphie", or lucifer and "mr Luci,". Basically being the guardian they couldn't be for lillith's descendants

a/n: okay that's a little sad to think about, but it's sort of precious too.

protecting what matters most | the demon brothers [dateables version]

1.2k words | sfw | gn!Reader

content/warnings: family dynamics and slice of life. fluff and angst, mention of character death and passage of time, mentions of raising children, platonic relationships with the demon brothers.

— Living in the Devildom for a year forged bonds with the demon brothers that can't be broken. You don't return, but they keep in touch with you however they can, starting with regularly scheduled phone calls and group chats over text, until eventually they surprise you with a visit to the human world.

— Asmo's the first one to find out that you met someone after you rebuilt your human life. The others didn't believe it until the day you formally introduced them to your partner. They hid their disappointment or anger or jealousy as best they could, but they had to admit that your partner was perfect for you. They'd never seen you so happy.

— Human lives are fleeting moments in time, and it wasn't until you told them about your engagement and upcoming nuptials that they realized your life would pass by in a blur. You'd be gone before they knew it, and they didn't want to take you for granted.

— They came to your wedding and gave you gifts, and they promised that their long-lost sister's future generations would be protected and cherished by them no matter what.

— Years pass and your house fills with family photos of your children's very eccentric uncles.

— Uncle Luci is the nicest. He bonds with your oldest child the most, but he teaches all your children the importance of family and patience and loyalty. Showing emotion and asking for help aren't signs of weakness, but signs of strength. He's also the one who gifted your family a puppy when your children were old enough to help care for it. He's in fewer photographs and videos than the rest of his siblings because he's usually the one volunteering to hold the camera. Watching your family stand intertwined with his fills the aching parts of his heart with love instead of pain and regret, and he wants to capture these special memories to look back on. His study and bedroom in the House of Lamentation are filled with these photographs too.

— Uncle Mammon is good at so many things. He shows them card tricks and he teaches them how to play games, too—Go Fish and Crazy 8's at first and Poker later. He tells them the importance of restraint and responsibility and that sometimes you need to make your own luck. He comes trick-or-treating on Halloween, and he'll even go into the haunted house attraction once they turn their puppy eyes on him. He helps the kids with math homework and science projects, and he helps each of them pick out and learn how to care for their first car. (He's twisted around their fingers the way he's still twisted around yours.)

— Uncle Levi is one of their favourites to invite for slumber parties. He brings lots of costumes and toys to play with, and he likes to watch cartoons and play video games as much as they do. He encourages them to be creative and unique no matter what anyone else thinks (but reminds them to call him or talk to their parents if they get teased or bullied). He takes the kids to opening day showings of the latest superhero movie they want to see, and they all come back with plastic collectible cups from the theater after eating way too much sugar. He gives some of the best gifts on special occasions and their birthdays.

— Uncle Sully fills your house with books. As your children grow older, he replaces their children's books with things more suitable for their ages and reading levels, and he delights when one of yours is as much of a bookworm as he is. He tries to teach them all about the power that comes from knowledge, and how books are not only a glimpse into the past but a hopeful peek into the future. He wants them to explore the world with an open mind and vivid imagination. He teaches them that family gives them strength and love and as long as they have each other, they can do anything.

(They start calling him Uncle Satan when they learn the truth about their beloved uncles. It was only a matter of time and you had years to prepare an explanation, but it still catches you off-guard: your children sitting very seriously at the kitchen table, looking at each other before one of them starts to speak. They ask tough questions about why their uncles don't seem to get any older, and why they can do all these amazing things they learn later is because of magic. Your youngest still calls him Uncle Sully; the others save that nickname for special occasions, just to get a rise out of him.)

— Uncle Asmo is so much fun! He helps you organize birthday parties and graduation parties, and when your children grow into adulthood and begin to live their own lives, weddings and honeymoons and baby showers too. He loves to be involved because he wants them to feel special and celebrated for all their achievements. It's also an excuse for him to spoil your family with clothes and gifts that you know can only be purchased in the Devildom. He helps you navigate their challenging teen years, talking to them about love and sex and healthy relationships. He makes sure they all know that he's there to lend an ear, a shoulder to cry on, or any other support or help they might need. He feels blessed to watch your family grow up because your love for them is so pure and beautiful; your impact on this world will linger long after you're gone.

— Uncle Beel and Uncle Belphie are the ones that take your children on some of their most cherished childhood adventures. They just happen to come by for a visit when traveling carnivals and theme parks open for the summer season. They all eat a ridiculous amount of food and come back with armfuls of souvenirs (which Beel happily pays for and refuses your attempts to pay him back). They suggest camping trips on long holiday weeks or ski vacations during the colder winter months. They like helping your children connect with nature and the stars and each other. Beel and Belphie tell the best stories, even if some of them are a little sad.

(They don't know until they're older that Uncle Belphie used to visit at nighttime and help care for them as babies. Sometimes you'd wake up and check on them to find them fast asleep in his arms while he rocked them in the chair beside their crib. Other nights, he visited when you'd already gotten up, but you always invited him to stay and listen while you hummed a lullaby.)

— Your children grow older and so do you. The demon brothers aren't ready to say goodbye—how could they be? When you're gone, it feels like they lost Lilith all over again. Death haunts them like shadow, but this time it's different because they realize that their family's not broken. It's stronger, and bigger, because you gave them that gift. In return, they promise to protect the descendants of Lilith that bear your name and have the same potential for greatness that you did.

— Your children's homes, and their children's after that, remain filled with photographs of their quirky uncles. The names and faces of the demon brothers are passed down along to each generation with a growing collection of impossible stories. It's your family's precious secret that each child is told when they're old enough to understand, because it's only a matter of time before the uncles arrive to visit them too.

[demonvibez]

mature content - minors dni · tags: smut, dom/sub/switch, oral, public sex, gn reader, penetration, humiliation, denial · wc: .3k+

Mephistopheles, ever the noble demon, tends to keep his secrets guarded when it comes to his own private affairs - despite also being the nosiest demon in the Devildom. One could certainly speculate what it would be like to have him between your sheets . . .

It's very possible that he would be dominant. His entire life only exists so that he can serve his future King - what demon wouldn't want to grab the reigns, especially in the bedroom? Especially with you, the oh-so-cute and powerful human exchange student that has beings from all three realms at their beck and call? I'd imagine he'd love to put a leash on you - and not just for the look on Lucifer's face. That one time he face fucks you in the Newspaper Room after class turns into you being his little noble slut, bouncing on his cock whenever he pleases. Whether it's in the forgotten hallway of a dinner party or the empty chambers of the House of Lords, he wants you and your needy holes at the ready for him to take. Be a good obedient little pet for him and he'll buy you the most expensive of collars - and probably anything else you desire.

Or perhaps, he wants you to put the collar on him. Perhaps he wishes to be the submissive one - you know he is extremely devoted and loyal, now let him serve you. He was literally born to serve, so why not fulfill his purpose? And that purpose looks a hell of a lot better with you in it. He doesn't care if you make him crawl across the House of Lamentation naked, he will do anything you ask. He'll become your best boy, taking your training as seriously as any of his other stations. Hands bound and eyes blindfolded as you hover over him in your bed, he patiently waits to orally please you for hours on end as you deny his own pleasure - his cock free and leaking precum in the open air, unable to be touched. He lives to worship you, and he'll always be back on his knees begging for more.

For you, I'm guessing, he'd love the thrill of both.

· demonvibez ♡ 2023 · do not copy, repost or modify · · likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 27

Part 26

For as long as King Edward had reigned over this land, no one had known him to take a lover, or even show any interest in anyone. Some time ago, a council had been adamant about him officially choosing someone to rule by his side and procuring an heir. They had been shut down and in time, their posts had been given to newer members, and that old watch had died out. King Edward had seen no need for such things. His life was long lived and he still had many years yet.

There had been no need to pick someone simply for the purpose of securing a royal line. It was him and only him.

And then some prince came along and changed everything. 

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

Robin’s leg swung off the bed while waiting for Steve. With a huff, he finally walked out of the bathroom. With a groan, she stood up. 

“Finally. Let’s go.”

“Hey, perfection takes time”, Steve said as they left his room.

Robin gestured at his entire body. “And you call this perfection?”

“Rude”, Steve said, starting to mess with his hair again. “It’s not like I have much to work with in there.”

“What are you talking about? Eddie gave you a whole hair dresser’s kit and yet you’re still not satisfied? Spoiled prince indeed”, Robin teased, no heed given to whom might overhear.

“Yes, well, brushes and oils can only do so much when I can’t even set them up properly”, Steve said, giving up on getting his hair just right. “What I truly require is a vanity.”

“Oh, but of course”, Robin rolled her eyes. It was so laughable to her that he could lament over such a thing when it was obvious how smitten Eddie was with him already. It was such a laugh that she shared it with Eddie one evening after going over resource allocations for the arts.

“A vanity. You’d think it was life’s greatest treasure the way he talked about it”, she snorted over a glass of chilled wine. 

“A vanity…”, Eddie trailed off, easily falling into a vision of Steve sitting before one, his beauty aids all arranged just so, taking his time to make himself even more radiant than he already was. He thought about the room Steve was in right now, stuck on one end of the castle, far from the other rooms and barren except for the necessities. 

It certainly wasn’t a place for someone being pursued by the king.

“I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”, Robin said.

“You should know you’ll have my full attention whenever the little prince is concerned. Now tell me more about his vanity-less woes.”

Courtships could go any sort of way. It all depended on the pursuant and their target. But anyone who meant to truly woo their intended listened to both them and those around them to figure out what the most impactful gifts would be. Steve knew that Eddie was this sort after the last gift. He had never said directly what he wanted and yet it appeared.

So he had a feeling a vanity was in his near future. Or at the very least a very good mirror. Something akin to that.

When Eddie approached during one of Lucas’ lesson, Steve didn’t care how spoiled he might appear, stopping in the middle and running right over to him.

“Am I right to assume you have something for me?”, he asked twirling his sword before sheathing it.

“Perhaps, sweetling. But it is one I have to show before I give it to you”, Eddie said.

And didn’t that intrigue Steve. “You have to show it first?”

Eddie nodded, then looked to Lucas. “Do you mind if I steal your instructor away?”

“Go for it”, Lucas permitted.

“You still have ten minutes left”, Steve said. “That’s just enough time for three laps around the training ring and some squats.”

With that, he left his sword belt on a table and walked arm in arm with Eddie. Steve didn’t know why this alone felt so intimate. Eddie had literally caught him in more revealing states. And yet this was different, this touch was different. He wanted to put his head against Eddie’s shoulder and let him lead wherever he wanted.

“I can’t believe you’re taking me somewhere without a chaperone.”

“Now what sort of trouble could we get into in a hallway?”, Eddie asked.

“In my experience, plenty”, Steve lowered his voice to tease and was both surprised and delighted at the redness that bloomed on Eddie’s cheeks. “Wait, have you never-”

“And here we are!”, Eddie shouted when they reached a door. 

A nice door, but a door all the same. Steve wondered what could be behind it and how it related to whatever Eddie was giving him. But then Eddie opened the door and it was a bedroom. A guest room that looked unused with how everything was perfectly in place. As if it had all been arranged in preparation for a new resident. It was a stark cry from the room he was in right now. 

That room was livable, but small. This room had enough space for a lavish bed, a writing desk, a floor to ceiling window that opened up to a small balcony. Across the bed was a door that led to a bathroom, surely nicer than the one he currently had, but that was when Steve saw it. He walked in to get a closer look.

A vanity, clear, ready to be covered in all he might need. He sat down in the chair before it, taking in his reflection in the smooth glass. Not a mirror covered in hard streaks and old dust that made it nearly impossible to make out much of anything. It reminded him of the one he had back home. How he’d sit in front of one, anticipating a night of dancing in the ballroom or a secret tryst with whatever lover he had at the time.

Eddie came up from behind and smiled. “Do you like it?”

“Is it really mine?”, Steve asked, looking up at him.

“All yours. And that is not the only perk it comes with.”

“Oh?”

Eddie cleared his throat and took a step back. “It just so happens that this prime real estate is just down the hall from my own rooms.”

“How generous of you”, Steve said, coming to stand up and move closer to Eddie. They were truly alone now, not in the hallway anymore. And he couldn’t miss the insinuation that came from knowing the king would be sleeping just a few doors down. “It has occurred to me that I have yet to give you a gift of my own.”

His eyes flicked to Eddie’s lips as he moved impossibly closer, their bodies chest to chest. His lips were just an inch away-

“Ew! Gross!”, Mike screeched when he came into the room.

Eddie jumped back, nearly tripping over his own feet but managing to catch himself. “Blazes Wheeler! Did no one ever teach you to knock!?”

“The door was open!”, Mike shot back. “I just came to tell you guys lunch was ready. Goddamn!” Mike left before his eyes could be defiled any more than they already were.

Eddie called out before he got too far. “Tell the kitchens to prepare a picnic for me!” Then he turned back to Steve. “If you would be so kind to accompany me.” He offered his arm, feeling warm when Steve linked up with him.

“I would love to.”

Part 28

a bit more sweetness before the bitter returns

Taglist CLOSED

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@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane @puppy-steve

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 5 || 1097 Words || Read on Ao3 —

10 June 1978

She’s sitting in the shade of a large tree on the Hogwarts’ grounds, her back propped against its bark as James approaches her, a tentative smile on his face.

“So…what did you think?”

Lily groans, tilting her head back and closing her eyes as she feels him take a seat next to her. The grass is soft and warm beneath them, a nice June breeze rustling the leaves above that cover them with shade.

“I revised the most for Arithmancy but after sitting the exam, I’m still shaky on it. I don’t think I did too poorly, but I can kiss an O goodbye.”

“I’m sure it went alright,” he says, nudging her shoulder. “You likely did better than I did.”

She looks up at him, exasperated. “You say that, but you have this infuriating ability to breeze through things with half the amount of studying, you know.” 

Though he’s the subject of her fleeting ire, he can’t help but grin as he takes in how lovely she looks, even in her frustration. He bends down to kiss her nose and dodges a swat with a laugh.

“Even if it’s not an O, I’m sure one extra Exceeds Expectations won’t be the be-all, end-all of your illustrious future Ministry career.” Beside him, Lily heaves another sigh as she rests her head on his shoulder, and it compels him to offer further comfort. “Me? I’m expecting Os for Transfig and Charms, but I’m pretty certain I got my rebellions and uprisings mixed up in History of Magic. I’m hoping to scrape by with an A.”

“You’ve got the name though,” comes her light lamentation. “Even with less-than-stellar N.E.W.T.s, everyone will clamber to hire a Potter—”

“I think you overestimate the sway of that name outside the potions sphere—”

“Who on earth wants an Evans?”

James disturbs her resting head to wrap an arm around her and pull her closer to his side. “Well I do, for one. Maybe I haven’t been the clearest—”

Lily’s laugh interrupts him, green eyes glittering with the compliment as they roll at his profession. “Can you just let me stress about my future a bit without swooping in and making love confessions? I was just saying, with everything going on out there—the war, the anti-muggleborn sentiment—I just…want to do the best I can, yeah?” She picks at a blade of grass beside her, retreating into her mind a bit. “I mean, I might not even apply for that position. Not with our other offer. But I want it to be on the table. And I want to know that I know this stuff.”

“Well, Lil, tests aren’t really the measure of that.”

She fixes him with a slightly bemused look. “That’s exactly what they are, actually.”

He brushes her (very correct, thank you very much) statement away with a shooing motion and shakes his head. “So you’ve got some numbers wrong on a test. For whatever you’re looking at doing next—potions regulation or, you know…fighting—you know what you’re doing. A letter difference on one stupid test doesn’t define whether you ‘know’ that.” He punctuates this impassioned speech by tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re brilliant, and I know that. And I reckon anyone who spends five minutes talking to you will, too.”

Her face is warm, a blush burning in her cheeks under James’ praise. She rests her head on his shoulder again, nestling in closer to him as she looks out at the other students milling around on the lawn. How many of them have a clear direction of their lives once they leave this place? How many of them are able to continue as they are—unbothered and untouched by a war that plagues her every thought of ‘next’?

The results of her N.E.W.T.s feel like the most pressing thing in the world, until they don’t. Until she remembers an invitation to an organization that operates in secret, that’s working to fight the wickedness that is the core reason her future is in such flux. But even that, as tempting an invitation as it is, feels unfair at times—insulting. Why shouldn’t she get to lead the life she’d once envisioned? Graduating and working with potions, or working for the Ministry, or any host of normal, non-combative options. The anger of injustice simmers in her veins—the unfairness of it all, the exhaustion that comes with it.

“Do you ever just think of running away?”

The musing slips out without intention, and her stomach clenches. She’s no coward, and she doesn’t expect James to think of her as one, but it’s a question she can’t take back.

His answer comes after a pause: light, like the June breeze around them. “Not really, but I can see the appeal.”

Her worries ease, and she traces idle shapes on the arm that’s around her. “I haven’t thought about it seriously. Not since I was about fifteen and fighting something awful with my sister, and even then it was very fleeting.”

“Where would we go?”

The question catches her off guard and she cranes her neck to look up at him. “What?”

“If we just packed up and ran, where would we go? No N.E.W.T.s needed.”

Her heart flutters. Always willing to go along with a distraction (sometimes to a fault), it’s one of the things she loves about him.

“I’d like to travel,” she starts, turning to look back out at the lawn. “I haven’t really gotten to do that before. But realistically—”

“Why isn’t traveling realistic?”

“It costs money, James.”

“I’m aware of that. I’m coming with you, remember?”

Lily opens her mouth to say something, and he twines his fingers with hers, giving her hand a squeeze.

“You may have to help with the currency conversion, but it’s not an issue. Now, where would we travel?”

It takes a moment for her to find her voice, her lips twitching into a smile. She won’t argue with him too much over a hypothetical, though she knows his offer is anything but. “I’ve been to Spain once, but I’d like to see Paris. Maybe Italy—ooh, Iceland!”

The excitement of her imaginary itinerary has James chuckling as he leans down and places a kiss on her grinning lips. “Sounds great. Just…pack and tell me when we’re off.”

She leans in for another kiss, savoring him and this moment as a brief one of clarity amidst the chaos, thankful for the boy who can indulge her in her silly distractions.

[phasmophobia-territory]

Yandere House of Lamentation, but MC Is Into It

Part Ⅰ: L U C I F E R

Themes + TW + CW: Poly MC, Gender Neutral MC (Except for the future NSFW parts where it'll be an AFAB MC), Yandere, Possessiveness.

“Lord Diavolo, I understand it is no secret I am fond of MC.”

Lucifer's voice was barely above a whisper, but you were still within earshot. You pretended you weren’t listening, eyes lowered, as your finger as it traced patterns in the desk. The other brothers could hear too. Some tried to be nonchalant like yourself, but certain ones couldn’t help but look, tentative.

Diavolo chuckled. 

“It really isn’t, I’m afraid. You and your brothers adore them very much!”

“Hm… Nothing ever seems to get past you. Therefore, allow me to be clear, MC has decided that they want to be with me. Officially, that-”

“Hey, you jerk! MC didn’t say that! They’re datin’ all of us and you know it!”

Even though Diavolo’s face betrayed wide-eyed shock (and sadness) that day, he gave his blessing to the relationship.

Not that his disapproval would’ve stopped the brothers . They had been “dating” you months before that announcement. Lucifer only told Diavolo when he was certain that the demon prince wouldn’t object.

It started when you came back to the House of Lamentation with Solomon one day. You had pecked the sorcerer on the cheek as a goodbye. You didn’t realize it was a mistake to do so in front of the brothers, hoping that they would be jealous. And let’s say you got more than you bargained for.

It was the last straw. They were tired of you “running around” with others for “way too long”. So they did what they needed to do and stepped up to claim what was theirs before any bothersome angels, demon prince, demon butler, demon noble, sorcerer or reaper could. You're their human. Their master. The rest were practically side characters!

So after a lot of fighting, the brothers came to an agreement. You were going to be official with them. All of them. Whether you liked it, or not.

But (much to their delight) you were kind of living for it. “It” being their darker and more possessive ideas of love.

❦Lucifer❦

♡Lucifer is aware that by human standards, forcing you into a relationship with him was completely demented. But he also knew that you didn’t care, so he really didn’t do anything wrong, did he? Sure, he questions your sanity as a human being, but it benefits him, so whatever.

♡What is that, you ask me? Don’t I mean “forcing you into a relationship with him and his brothers was completely demented?”  

♡Oh no, Lucifer is simply being graceful. Can’t you remember that you belong to him? When you made a pact with Lucifer, did you think he was being funny when he said that you were his?

♡In his eyes, you may be free to run around with his brothers, but in the end, he still owns you in every sense. If it were up to him, only he would have you.

♡But alas, his brothers are just as crazy about you as he is, and he will not deal with the headache that would come from their whining about him keeping you to himself.

♡And what if they all decide to turn against him? Not that he believes they hold a candle to his power, but he rather not tear apart the three worlds with a brother’s conflict. Diavolo would never approve of that. And knowing the future King, he might go as far as to have you for himself, and Lucifer is absolutely not a fan of that.  

♡Coming back to the fact that you belong to him, Lucifer is possessive.

♡If you had rejected the arrangement, Lucifer wouldn’t be above any act to make you his. Persuasion, lies, brainwashing, magic. Nothing was off the table. Good for you that you’re already willing to go through with it. For that reason, Lucifer would not keep you locked away in the House of Lamentation.

♡He wouldn't hesitate to remove bothersome pests that would push their luck with you, but they know better than to mess around with Lucifer’s possession partner. They’re all too scared to cross him and his brothers.

♡But if said pest is foolish enough to still pursue you, it’s going to be a horrible day for them. Lucifer doesn’t even have to torture or kill them himself. He just needs to give a hint about it within earshot of one of his more active brothers, sit back, and take pride in what he caused.

♡Lucifer isn't the type to stalk you, either. But he would like to know where you're going and what you're doing if you ever leave.

♡Where did you go with Simeon that time after class? “You know better than to be fooling around with him. You're mine, Mc.” What did Solomon call you for? When will you be back from the Demon Lord's Castle? He's almost like an overbearing parent and that can get on your nerves whenever he overdoes it.

♡But damn it, every time you laugh and tell him your plans anyway.

♡Would he try to make you more dependent on him? Not really? Technically, you’re already dependent on him and his brothers to keep you safe here in the Devildom, even if you're decent in magic.

♡Lucifer will let you have your freedom as long as you're faithful to him and his brothers. If you aren't though, be ready to part with it.

♡Despite Lucifer’s “you belong to me, not my brothers why would I be jealous?” schtick, he’s easily jealous and it’s never obvious. Whenever you deny him, you're slightly hesitant, because there's always a punishment in store for you later.

♡It’s nothing too sadistic, I promise. Lucifer loves and cherishes you, after all. Despite his ugly, possessive nature writhing underneath.

⛤NSFW Part to be posted later⛤ NSFW Part HERE. Minors DNI.

♡well, here's part 1 of this series! Mammon's Part is up next!♡

♡and sorry if this sucks. I haven't written in months... (ノへ￣、)♡

♡but now for the promos, haha. if you want to see more content like this check out the Writing and Yandere Masterlist. and to know more about the blog check out About the Blog!♡

♡also consider reblogging and commenting if you enjoyed what you read! it does a lot for me motivation-wise, because it tells me that people actually want to read what I put out. comments with constructive criticism are welcome too!♡

♡tag list: @acaribeau♡

[fujii-draws]

Regrets

Summary: As golden orbs of light brought an end to Dusknoir’s existence; he’s confronted with a thought. One he’d long been avoiding since the day he arrived in the world of the past, and came in contact with two young, small Pokémon. The same two he’d eventually come to grow fond of, only to betray as part of his mission. As he’s forced to finally confront it in his isolation, Dusknoir finds himself coming to an epiphany. One he’d been denying for a very, very long time.

[Word count: 2130]

–––––––––––––––––––––

‘Aimilios... Ribbons...’ The ghost type melancholically lamented to himself. ‘They… did it….’

The black, paralyzed skies had begun to shift as the morning came. Rays of light hit the ghost type’s body; although numb, even he’d felt the warmth of the sun course through him. Time was finally moving again… and all Dusknoir could do was helplessly watch as his body faded; the light bringing an end to his existence.

Dusknoir cannot describe the emotions he’s feeling. Proud…? Accomplished…? Fearful….?

Damn it all. Arceus… if only he’d realized the mistake he was making. If only he’d defied Primal Dialga and had his change of heart sooner… perhaps those two would’ve still…. The three of them could’ve been-

No.

It’s over.

He ruined it.

…Dusknoir turns his head slowly, his gaze falling on to Grovyle; the reason he decided to go against Primal Dialga’s wishes in the first place. The reason he lived; for what would perhaps be the first time in ages… Had it not been for his speech back at the icicle pillars…Dusknoir doesn’t even want to think of the calamity that would’ve ensued. He continues to stare at the slowly disappearing grass-type, almost thoughtful.

“Grovyle…”

The grass-type’s eyes meet the black specter’s pained expression.

“My M-my life… Did it shine….?”

Dusknoir wanted to hear it from Grovyle. He wouldn’t feel satisfied, or even happy hearing it from himself. The ghost’s self-hatred was deep rooted enough as it was. Especially after all of what he had done. He needed a second opinion.

“…Yes.” The lizard Pokémon smiles, softly reassuring Dusknoir in what would be his final moments. “…Extraordinarily.”

…Dusknoir, despite not believing Grovyle, chooses to do so. Offering a small smile back at his old friend. “Grovyle… Thanks to you…..”

He pauses.

“…I have no regrets.”

…Dusknoir starts to feel himself slipping away completely; his physical form fading into illuminated lights in the sky as he draws his final breath… His death is almost comforting... At least- it would’ve been, had he made peace with his unspoken feelings… towards them. Even when he’s disappearing. Even when he’s dying…

He still couldn’t tell the truth.

One regret.

He had all but one.

…And now, he’ll never see them again. Never be able to tell them how sorry he was. Never be able to tell those two how much they meant to him… what they actually meant to him.

How foolish was he…? To get attached like this…? To care so much about their futures as well as his…? ..He couldn’t even admit how much they mattered to him in his final moments… Dusknoir grunts. really is just a liar, isn’t he? And that’s all the two will remember him for. Their scornful expressions when he’d laughed at their misery during their confrontation in the future. Their looks of betrayal. Tears rolled down the eevee and riolu’s faces as they unhinged their claws and teeth at Dusknoir. To think at the time, he found their reactions simply hysterical…

——————

“YOU LIAR..!”

“W-WE TRUSTED YOU..!”

“Pray tell… who’s fault is that?” Dusknoir sneered. “Not once had I asked for your background, or your names.”

Dusknoir began to float menacingly towards Aimilios. “Last I recall, you were responsible for your own partner’s downfall.”

“I-I….”

“LEAVE HIM ALONE…!!”

——————

…Now all he feels is a sharp pain stabbing through his chest recalling that horrible memory.

If there was a heaven or hell; the latter would be awaiting him right about now.

Speaking of…

Dusknoir opens his eye, attempting to browse his uncanny surroundings. What meets the ghost-type is… emptiness?

“…What on earth..?” His eye wanders down to his body.

…He appears in what looks like a pitch-black void. Dusknoir himself would’ve blended right in with the endless abyss had it not been for the yellow outlines distinguishing the features of his silhouette-like shadow… the same exact hue of yellow lights that’d been responsible for his disappearance moments ago… it’s almost as if he’d become a ghost all over again... He’d find the circumstances slightly amusing had it not been for his current dilemma. Dusknoir stares at his golden-laced hand, before contemplating something.

‘…Perhaps..’ Dusknoir thinks to himself. ‘Perhaps… it’s better this way…’ He knows it’s selfish. He knows he’s being a coward. But… now he doesn’t have to face Ribbons and Aimilios. He doesn’t have to look at those same faces that once revered him with such adoration; now fear, in the eyes… And yet… The thought of never seeing those two again… why does the thought bring him so much unnecessary pain? They were only means to an end to begin with- so why does he even CARE?!

“…GWOOH.. GWOOOOH..!!!” The ghost-type’s head begins to throb uncontrollably; Dusknoir clutches his head; nearly identical to how he did when breaking down in the midst of Grovyle’s speech. He clutches his temple harder in a feeble attempt to satiate the pain. Why couldn’t he just stop…? He’d tried so hard to detach himself from Ribbons and Aimilios once he realized who they were... Yet like a complete and utter fool; he stayed close. So close to an eevee and riolu he was ordered to execute. Why couldn’t he just forget about those two…? It would hurt so much less. They were means to an end to begin with- so WHY?!

“B-BLAST IT..!”

He slams both of his fists on the onyx colored ground beneath him in frustration. The yellow outlines of his body begin to glow violently as he draws heavy, shallow breaths.

…Dusknoir is suddenly plagued with a memory- of those two. He… remembers the eevee and riolu smiling widely; at him no less. It was… around the time when he’d referred to them as his ‘friends’. A mere front to gain their trust. Dusknoir recounts just how overjoyed they looked… and how that happiness made something in his chest hurt for a split second. He didn’t have to give them false hope. He didn’t have to play this ruse as far as he did… and yet. There was a small, foolish part of him that genuinely enjoyed it; and an even smaller part of him that knew he’d regret it.

————————

“You mean it?!” The riolu beamed. “You’ll really help us?!”

“But of course!” Dusknoir smiled, placing a hand on his chest. “I offer you two, my full cooperation!”

Dusknoir watched as the two Pokémon whip their heads towards eachother; almost trying to confirm the other’s disbelief. They look back at him; tails wagging rapidly in unison— before Ribbons excitedly jumps onto the ghost-type. Dusknoir nearly stumbles from just how sudden it was. Despite this, he catches her with his quick reflexes.

“Thank you thank you thank you!!!” Ribbons cheered. “You have no idea how much this means to us!”

Dusknoir recollected himself; before putting a hand on each of the overjoyous Pokémon’s heads.

“I’m… glad to hear. Truly.” A lie, obviously…but even he couldn’t help but smile a little at their shared enthusiasm.

“By golly..! Huff… huff…”

All three of the Pokémon had turned their heads to the out-of-breath Bidoof. Dusknoir immediately put Ribbons and Aimilios down; a slightly embarrassed blush crossing the ghost’s face as he brushed himself off coughing, returning to his more professional, stoic-like persona.

———————————

…He didn’t have to play with their emotions. He could’ve just as easily stayed acquaintances- kept his distance- but no. He just had to enjoy spending time with them. He had to get closer to them. He had to remember their favorite foods. To enjoy laughing with them until his stomach became sore, protecting them, watching over them, loving them as if they were…

Were…

…Dusknoir can’t help but hold his hand under his eye. He… he really did care those two... As if they were his own… his own…

“….Hoh…”

His train of thought comes to a complete halt. The idea of those two? Seeing him that way? After what he had done? After the horrible things he’s said…?

“Ho..Hohohaha..! HOHOHOHA-HA-HA-HA!”

His laughter becomes more and more erratic; holding one hand under his eye as the other grips his head- his cackles echoing into the never ending void.

“HAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahaa…!“

Dusknoir’s broken laughter echoes throughout the void; until there’s nothing left but silence. Both of Dusknoir’s hands now cover his face as he crumbles to the ground. A shell of what was once the ‘Great Dusknoir’… was nothing more but the husk of a broken ghost. Too selfish and weak to do the right thing; and stand by the only two Pokémon who were willing to trust him with their lives… He wishes the endless abyss he was in would just swallow him already.

“Aimilios…Ribbons…” Dusknoir’s voice cracks; calling out for the ones he’d hurt.

…They deserved so much better than him. He didn’t deserve them. And to think in the beginning, they’d been the ones who were trying to prove themselves to be worthy of him... When it’d been the other way around this entire time. How ironic.

How absolutely ironic.

…Which reminds him-

“Ribbons…!” His head shoots up in a panic; his eye filled with worry.

She had already disappeared at this point, didn’t she..? In front of Aimilios no less..? He can’t even begin to fathom how horrible it must’ve been for both of them… at such young ages… maybe if he’d assisted them on their perilous journey to Temporal Tower…. he could’ve been there to remedy the weight of their situation… but of course instead, he used it in a pathetic attempt to beg for his life. Dumping everything onto Ribbons in a last ditch effort to save his own ghostly skin… in the small desperate hope she’d finally understand why he…

…Selfish.

So selfish.

Of course his train of thought immediately went straight back to him. He can’t think about anyone’s wellbeing except for his own. His ‘self preservation’. His ‘life’. Nevermind all of the Pokémon he was going to deny the futures of. He was at risk. So they all had to pay for it. Because of his cowardice.

This was his atonement.

He deserved this.

Dusknoir closes his eye. Maybe in his next life he’ll be a decent Pokémon. One worthy of respect. Of adoration.

Of love.

.

.

.

“Gah...”

Dusknoir groans. Why does it feel so cold all of a sudden..?

Wait.. cold?

He sees… ice… and feels… wind?

‘…What..?’

He slowly gets up; using his hands to suspend himself in the air. He looks around- only to see himself back.

Back on the mountain.

He stares at his hands for an indeterminate amount of time before they begin to tremble. His expression contorted into one of self-loathing and confusion.

“W-we’re still here…” His fingers curl into fists.

“I didn’t disappear…! Wh-Why?!”

Dusknoir shouts; almost disgusted by the fact he was revived- rather than questioning how it was even possible in the first place. No. He doesn’t- He shouldn’t be here. It must’ve been some kind of mistake… That’s it. There’s no other logical explanation for why he should be still here. Perhaps the higher being that brought him back into this world will immediately realize their error, and make swift work of him.

“We… we truly are still here…” Grovyle lamented, breathing a sigh of what would be an overwhelming rush relief. Celebi begins to flutter her wings happily around the grass-type.

“Wonderful!! I don’t know why we were fading and didn’t disappear…” She twirls, overjoyous now having gained all her strength back. “…But everyone is safe!! Oh my beloved..! Isn’t this just an amazing wonderful thing?!”

Grovyle chuckles heartedly. “It is.”

Unfortunately among the three; the ghost type was not experiencing the same joy as the grass type pokemon. Dusknoir had been drowning out half of their words of cheer and relief with thoughts of contempt. Self-depricational thoughts clouded the ghost-type’s mind as he kept searching for logical answers for his revival… Everyone else made sense. But why him of all Pokémon..?!

“Why..? Wh-Why me..?” Dusknoir whispered to himself dejectedly; mirroring his words from when his Sableye ‘betrayed’ him.

The only difference being how genuine it was.

Pr- Dialga had appeared to explain the whole situation to the trio. Once that had been done, Grovyle, and Celebi walked and flew individually near the edge of the mountain to feel the sun on their skins; their accomplishments finally having been paid off, soaking in the sun…

……Dusknoir, however; had stayed in the exact spot he’d been revived. His thoughts plagued him. This was not his victory. This was not for him to enjoy. What was he to do now..? Live his life as if nothing happened..? As if he didn’t hurt countless Pokémon..? Guilt had almost immediately begun to eat away at the ghost-type. He looks down at his hands one last time... Perhaps death would’ve been too good for a despicable Pokémon such as himself. The torment of being alive, and living with what he had done seemed like a fitting and ironic enough punishment… but that wasn’t what truly scared him.

Far from it, in fact.

Without a doubt in Dusknoir’s mind; Grovyle and Celebi would want to return back to the past… perhaps not this very instant; but at a given point. And when that time finally arrives…

Dusknoir stares at the Passage of Time facing him. Almost mocking him.

…He’d have to face them.

“…” Dusknoir clenches his fists tightly; his brow furrowing.

…The mere thought of confronting those two again- No no no no no. He- he should have disappeared. Death would’ve been a mercy. He can’t face them- not again. Looking at the same two children he tried to slaughter with his bare hands mere hours ago face-to-face..? Dusknoir’s fists tremble as his terror consumes him. What would they say..? Let alone think..? They’d run at the mere sight of him. He…

He doesn’t want to scare them.

He doesn’t want to hurt them.

He..

…Now he has something else to be afraid of.

[misc-obeyme]

unchained - epilogue

masterpost read the chapter on ao3

NSFW MDNI word count: 3893

GN!MC x Arsenios [demon OC] a/n: Here we are, at the very end of the story. The full thing ended up being 70,035 words. This scene does not take place at Cocytus Hall, but I used that image to indicate that it does take place in the past during the Nightbringer timeline.

I want to thank everyone who has read the story! Thank you for sticking with me all this time! I wouldn't have felt inspired to write it at all if not for all of you. There were times when I felt like just not posting the rest of it because it was so bad in my opinion. But your tags and comments kept me going! And I appreciate every single one of you.

I don't know what's next for Arrie. Only time will tell. I might explore some of the other OCs, too. I've been thinking about more Barbatos stories, though, because I miss writing about him. And I'm working on some original stuff as well, which you can find over on my new side blog @misc-chronicles if that's something you're at all interested in.

Thank you so much for loving my silly self indulgent guy. I'm so happy I got to share him and his story with all of you!

Anyway, enjoy this smut, but also be prepared for it to end on a cheesy note lol. Warnings: penetration and oral (reader receiving), pact control, biting, tail play (not fucking though lol), uhh I think that's it...

When you arrived in the Devildom's past, every pact mark you had faded. It was a simple matter of obscuring them even further with magic to make them invisible. The demons they connected you to couldn't know that such ties existed in their future. These versions of them didn't know you, hadn't fallen in love with you, hadn't accepted you as one of their own.

It was the same for the pact mark on the back of your dominant hand. You had been here for some time now. You had settled into your routine at Cocytus Hall, navigating the challenges of establishing relationships with demons who should already know you. But there was one demon you had yet to reunite with, here in the past.

You didn't know the timeline of his life well enough to be certain of his location. So soon after the Celestial War, you supposed he was still making pacts in the human world. He regularly traveled back and forth during that time. Where did he live? Where did he spend his time when he was in the Devildom?

Even if you saw him again, would it matter? He wouldn't recognize you.

And yet you couldn't stop thinking about it. You saw him everywhere you went, only to look closer and discover it wasn't him at all. You would hear his voice or a mysterious piano music on the wind, but there was never anything there. The knowledge of his existence was like a phantom, playing tricks on your weary mind.

There was no RAD for you to wander through, no dance hall to find him playing alone in the dark. The building you knew as his home didn't even exist here. Cafe Lament had no regular pianist. Angel's Temptation hadn't even begun to be an idea in a demon's mind.

For some time, you tried to focus your attention on other things. You had pacts to re-forge and a timeline to get back to. But even as you did this, the ache of missing him clutched itself like ice around your heart.

You had neglected to realize that there was another demon who might know where Arsenios was.

This timeline's version of Barbatos should not know about your relationship with Arsenios. He should be unaware of everything that would happen in your future. And maybe he was. You would probably never know for certain.

But it was very clear how he deliberately waited for you to follow him through the streets one day as you were on your way home to Cocytus Hall. He glanced over his shoulder, a brief wink and a swish of his tail somehow all you needed.

You could've been imagining things, but you followed him anyway. He pretended not to notice you.

Barbatos brought you to the most dilapidated ruin of a mansion you had ever seen. It took you some time to get there, following him on an overgrown path through the forest. The roof was mostly gone and the rooms were so full of plants and ivy that it was nearly impossible to tell what they had once been.

But there was an old piano in the broken remains of one room. And a demon played it.

It was a grand piano, made of wood that was clearly decaying, black paint fading away. Despite its condition, it wasn't out of tune. You supposed this was due to Arsenios's magical influence. He looked just as he always had. He was dressed casually, his hair obscuring most of his face as he played some melancholy song.

You hid in the trees while Barbatos made his way into the ruin. You watched Arsenios stop playing, stand up to meet him. They spoke to each other for a short time before Barbatos left. You wondered why he came all this way for so brief an exchange. And then you wondered if perhaps it was because it was only an excuse for him to show you the way to Arsenios.

You couldn't emerge right away. You waited. Arsenios started playing again.

When you felt like enough time had passed, you stumbled out of the trees, hoping you looked like you were lost.

Arsenios stopped playing abruptly and looked over at you.

You stood there in the path, the gaping holes of the empty windows and half rotten away walls giving you a clear view of him as he sat there. His eyes met yours and you had to suppress a shudder, even from this distance.

"You play beautifully," you said.

Arsenios stood up from the piano and came out of the ruin, walking easily across the path to stand before you.

"Who are you?" he asked.

There was an edginess to him that he didn't have in the present.

You told him your name.

"The devilsitter," he said. He looked you up and down, frowning. "They said you're a demon, but you aren't, are you? Your song…"

You hadn't expected that. He was onto you already?

"I-"

"Don't worry about it," he interrupted you. "I won't tell anyone. How did you get here and what do you want?"

"I'm sorry," you said. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I just got lost."

Arsenios tilted his head. "You just got lost? No. Your song is going crazy. It's far more than just getting lost in the woods."

There was a silence where he seemed to be listening to something. Of course, you couldn't hear it yourself.

And then his eyes narrowed and he took step closer to you. The aura around him had gotten dark and dangerous.

"Why do you sound like that?" His voice was low and ominous.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said. "I don't hear anything."

Arsenios reached out a hand and placed it gently on your neck. Although his movement was soft, it felt like a threat. "You have the melody of someone who has a pact with me," he said. "But I've never met you before."

Of course. You still had the ability to control the brothers with their pacts. Some remnants of those old pacts remained, something that even these past versions could sense.

His reaction was not what you were expecting. You raised your eyebrows. "Does that scare you?"

Arsenios snorted. "No," he said. "But it should scare you. People who make pacts with me don't live long."

"Is that because they don't understand how pacts work?" you asked.

Arsenios's hand tightened just a little and the tension between you rose. "You're trying to provoke me, aren't you? You're bold for a human."

The desire that had begun to pool in your belly spiked for a moment. Then your eyes caught a glimpse of the back of his hands. There were no tattoos there. You thought perhaps you had even found him in a time before he had ever met Caligo. Should you take this opportunity to try and prevent that situation from happening at all? If you did, would it change the course of time so drastically that you would never meet him in the present?

All those thoughts that had begun to race screeched to a halt when Arsenios took a step even closer to you. "Your music is giving you away, little human. What are you so frantically trying to figure out beneath all that lust?"

Your heart hammered. He was more intrusive with the way he listened to your song. In the present, he was more contained. He didn't deliberately try to read what you were thinking or how you were feeling. But now it was clear he was using every advantage he had.

"I'm waiting to see what you'll do about it," you said.

Arsenios shook his head in amusement. "What do you want me to do about it?"

You summoned the power of your pact with him. "I want you to show yourself to me."

His eyes widened. He could feel the power of the command running through his veins. He backed away from you and immediately fell into his demon form, as suggested by what you said to him. He couldn't help it. He was compelled to show himself.

You didn't move as his tail unbraided itself, all the ends twitching in uncertainty before they braided themselves again.

Your eyes traveled over him, taking in the familiar harness of his demon form, noting the absence of both the pact mark and the scar on his chest from Caligo's scythe.

You were expecting Arsenios to be worried or afraid. He had been surprised, at the very least. But now he simply watched you, head tilted again as though listening. He was trying to read you, trying to figure out who you really were and what you really wanted.

"What is it about you?" he asked, almost to himself. "Any other human commanding me like that would be dead by now. But you…"

"What about me?" you asked.

Arsenios came close to you again, taking your hand, pulling you slightly toward him. "For some reason, all I want is to follow every command you give me. And I'm not the kind of demon to deny myself. So what do you want from me, MC? Just say it. You don't have to command me."

"Kiss me," you said.

You didn't use the power of your faded pact and just as he said, you didn't have to.

Arsenios gathered you into his arms and kissed you. It wasn't a soft gentle kiss. It reminded you of the first time he'd kissed you in his apartment - hot and heavy, but this time also full of some undercurrent of danger. Like Arsenios was barely suppressing his more demonic tendencies and he was only doing it because he wanted to. It was so thrilling, you responded to him without thinking, opening your lips, entwining your tongue with his. Your hands moved up to his chest, your fingers playing with the barbells in his nipples.

He broke away from you, breathing heavily. "You want much more than just a kiss," he said. He grinned at you. "I'll do whatever you want. Take me anywhere."

You looked past him at the ruins of the mansion. "Take you anywhere? What's wrong with here?"

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully before simply picking you up. You managed to hold onto his harness to steady yourself. "I didn't think you'd be interested in a dump like this, but if that's what you want, I don't mind."

You didn't protest, only let him carry you into the ruin, past the room with the piano until you found yourself in a room that was far more intact than the rest of the place. It might have even been a bedroom before it became a ruin. It was simple, but there was a door that closed and a roof overhead. The main attraction was an enormous four poster bed with surprisingly well kept bed curtains. The only light came from an ashy looking fireplace in the wall near the bed.

"It's cleaner than I expected," you said.

"I might live in a ruin, but I still keep it clean," Arsenios said before putting you down on the edge of the bed.

You forgot entirely about the state of the room as he stood between your knees and started leaving hot kisses down your neck. His hands tugged on your shirt for a bit before finally dislodging it and pulling it over your head. His kisses moved down to your shoulders and chest.

You needed him in a way that you couldn't describe. It was painful and full of memories from the story you shared with him back in the present. This version of him knew you but didn't know you. He was going along with the inexplicable pull of your song, the one that matched his magic just enough to let him know the pact was real. That you meant something to him.

You reached around and tugged on the base of one of his tails. It unbraided itself from the others to wrap around your waist.

"MC," Arsenios said, leaning over you, his face pressed to your neck, breath hot and voice muffled. "Are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" you asked, breathlessly.

"Making me need you," he said. "Making me want you so bad I can't think straight."

"I'm not doing anything," you said. "Not on purpose."

He pulled back for a moment, looking into your eyes. His own purple ones were almost magenta with the fire of lust burning inside of them. "Who are you?"

This was dangerous. What you said to him now could change the course of your story in the present. If you told him too much… but you had to tell him something. You wanted him to know how much he mattered to you.

You put your hands on his cheeks. "If I told you I was from another timeline, would you believe me?"

Arsenios stared blankly at you for a moment. Then something seemed to clear his confusion. "Yes," he said. "Barb talks about timelines a lot. It's a magic I'm not familiar with, but I know it exists."

You smiled softly. "That's all I can say about it. It's dangerous to manipulate the past. But I just want you to know… that I love you."

Arsenios looked like he might pull away at that. You could see it in his eyes, the sudden distrust. He could accept an unexplained lust, but love? If you did love him, you loved a version of him that he didn't know. A version of him that might as well not exist.

You felt the tears fall down your cheeks unbidden. He was processing the fact that it wasn't him that you loved. Right in front of your eyes, he was putting together the understanding that even if he believed you, it was a different version of him that you loved.

To your surprise, he reached out to wipe away your tears. "No," he said quietly. "Don't do that. It's okay. So you love me in another timeline. It hurts you to be here, doesn't it? It hurts that I don't know you. Maybe there's a you in this timeline that I'll meet one day. But if you need me like this now, if this will help you with whatever it is you've got going on here in this timeline, I won't deny you, okay?"

You blinked, which only caused fresh tears to fall. "You won't?"

Arsenios chuckled and kissed away the new tears, a sweet gesture that squeezed your heart. "Never," he said. "If I love you in one timeline, I love you in every timeline. I don't need to understand it. I can hear it in your song. I never question the truths that I can hear in music. Now tell me what you want. But command me, MC. Use your power over me. Let me feel it."

You shuddered. The gentleness had left his voice to be replaced with the heaviness of his lust. You could hear it so plainly in the way he asked you to command him. You wanted him so badly you thought you'd explode and he was offering himself up to you.

"I want you on your knees," you said.

Arsenios fell to his knees immediately. You didn't have to say anything else as his hands went to work on the rest of your clothes. You could see the edges of his back tattoo when he bent over you. As soon as your soft skin was fully exposed to him, he began to bite his way up your thigh. You sucked in a breath. His actions were harsh, like he was barely holding himself back. It was unlike the version of him in the present, always so soft and gentle. In the past, he was more wild, living out here in the woods in a ruined mansion, playing a decaying piano, making pacts with humans that died quickly. His demonic nature could not be denied.

When he finally put his mouth on you, it was like an explosion that ran through every limb. You gasped, your hands finding purchase on his horns. His hands held onto your hips, keeping you steady as he used his tongue in ways you didn't know were possible. One of his tails was still wrapped around your waist.

Arsenios lifted your legs over his shoulders and they clenched down on him as the pleasure built up inside you. The feeling was so exquisite, your mind blanked for a moment as you came on his tongue.

Arsenios didn't pull away, lapping up every drop of your cum before it could even make its way down your thighs. When he looked up at you, framed by your legs, the look on his face was ravenous. As though this was just the beginning. As though he was ready to eat you entirely.

You let go of his horns, reaching out to touch his face with your fingers. The glint of fire in his eyes sent shockwaves through you. "Do it," you said, the power of command in your voice.

You knew you likely didn't need to command him anymore. But he had asked you to. And there was something about having the magic control him, having him respond so compliantly to your words, that made you feel dizzy.

Arsenios's eyes seemed to be glowing with intensity. He lifted you again, putting you down on your feet in front of him, your back pressed against his chest. You could feel the chill of the harness's chain against your skin. It was a sharp contrast to the heat of his mouth, which was on your neck, his soft hair brushing against your shoulder. One hand was on your belly, the other on your chest, and he seemed to be humming deep in his throat, like he couldn't contain it.

The light of the fire danced across your bodies, the sweat that had already accumulated glistening brightly. His teeth grazed against you for a moment before he bit down on your neck and then your shoulder.

You moaned and pressed your body back against him. You could feel the state of his erection through the pants he was still wearing. You reached behind yourself to tug on them.

"Take them off," you said, your voice now just a hoarse whisper.

Despite the state of your voice, the command magic was still running through it. Arsenios responded instantly, compelled to take his hands off you long enough to remove the pants in question.

You turned around while he was slightly away from you and caught hold of the harness chain when he tried to step back toward you.

"This too," you said.

He might have hesitated if the magic wasn't controlling him. The slight confusion in his eyes indicated as much to you. But the pact ensured that he simply did as you asked, unclipping the chains from the choker, unbuckling it and letting it fall to the floor.

You had never seen him in demon form without the harness. There were light lines on his skin left behind and your fingers traced them, making him shiver. He was still, but his tails were out of control, all three of them whipping around behind him.

You let your hand travel down his chest, taking his erect cock into your hand. You met his eyes. "What are you waiting for?"

The tails stilled, one of them wrapped around your thigh while another one wrapped around your waist. The last one found its way into your mouth as his hands pushed you back onto the bed.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lifted you by your hips, pulling you closer to him. He was not careful as he finally entered you, the neediness and desperation of his movements making him careless. You didn't mind, you were ready for him. Your legs hooked around his waist as he leaned over you, pressing his forehead against yours as he began to thrust, the movements much slower than you had been anticipating.

Your mouth was still full of his tail, but you managed to moan around it, the vibrations of your voice traveling through it and making it twitch. The tails around your waist and thigh tightened as Arsenios sped up. He lifted himself just a bit, his hair draping around your face, his eyes half closed as he looked down at you. Even still, you could see the way they flared, that odd magenta color returned to indicate his state of lust.

Not that you needed such an indication, you could feel the power of it in his touch, his every movement. He was wild now, not holding back at all, his fingers curling into your hips so hard it would likely be leaving bruises.

Arsenios repositioned you slightly and the new angle caused his thrusts to become so deep, you couldn't think straight as he hit that perfect spot inside you over and over again. It was hard and it was fast and it was overwhelming, your mind going blank and your vision going white as you came hard on his cock.

He continued on through your orgasm, leaning back as he did, his hair half covering his face, puffing out with the heaviness of his breathing. And then he went still and you felt the heat of his cum inside you as a growl ripped itself from his throat.

It was a slow descent, the two of you panting for some time before finally things became soft in the afterglow. Although the fire inside him had died down, it wasn't gone completely. You could still sense the coals burning quietly within him. But Arsenios was gentle with you now, cleaning you up and taking care of you and making you comfortable. He even talked you into staying the night, though you were sure you would hear about it from Solomon the next day when you didn't come back to Cocytus Hall. Somehow, you didn't think you particularly cared.

Though even as you spent the night nestled in Arsenios's arms, you couldn't stop thinking about what this past version of him was like. And what he still had to go through. It was clear to you that he hadn't even met Caligo yet. This was Arsenios before he had been broken by betrayal. He was more dangerous, but he was also more free. He wasn't chained by old wounds that forced him to deny himself.

You knew this version of him had a story still to live through. And you also knew that he would inevitably find you in this timeline. And maybe, through this encounter, he would open up to this timeline's version of you just a little bit easier. But even if he didn't, you would love him either way.

Arsenios had not put out the fire and the orange glow of it still dimly highlighted the edge of his shoulder, the brown of his skin and the gleam of his hair. He was leaning into you, half on his stomach, and his back tattoo seemed to be on fire itself, the red roses gleaming. You knew that no matter where or when you found him, Arsenios was the demon that you would always give your heart to.

masterpost | chapter twenty-two

taglist: @avalordream @lonely-north-star @expressionless-fr @featheredcrowbones @pumpkinsareamazing

@szired @bagofwetmice @ashley675901 @silverrings-n-prettythings

as always, please comment or dm me if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[arliedraws]

How would sad, angry Wolfstar play out during OOTP?

Just for you, my friend. Literally only for you would I talk about Wolfstar.

Anyway.

It’s summer, Harry has just come to 12 Grimmauld Place, and everyone is in bed. Maybe Sirius and Remus are in the kitchen, sharing a drink. Remus confronts Sirius about his behavior with Molly, and he tries to convince Sirius that keeping Harry out of harm’s way is best for him. Sirius chafes at this. They argue about who has the right to decide what’s best for Harry, and Sirius tells Remus that it’s not what James would have wanted, and Sirius is the one who knew James best. And then they start fighting—Remus states it doesn’t matter what James would have wanted because he couldn’t have foreseen this future, and Sirius loses his temper. He accuses Remus of taking advantage of James and his money, that Remus never cared about Harry.

More under the cut:

They try to keep their voices low, but this is escalating. They have never been the closest of friends, but now, they’re the only ones left. They only have each other. Sirius is furious about this. Why did it have to be Remus who’s left? Remus, who thinks Sirius is reckless and feels too much, too intensely. Remus laments the deaths of his friends, but insists that it’s time to move on, and Sirius knows that he’s lying. Determined to reveal that Remus still grieves for their old lives deeply, Sirius goads him, and Remus breaks, striking out and blasting Sirius across the kitchen with his wand (a la his actions towards Harry in DH).

Anyway, Sirius acts quickly. He is immediately on Remus and doesn’t bother with wands. At some point during their tussle, Sirius pins him. Somehow, seeing the seemingly unflappable Remus Lupin huffing and puffing with fury surprises Sirius with how it moves him. Suddenly, they’re kissing. Angrily. Sadly. Then, Remus shoves him off, thinking Sirius was trying to humiliate him. He leaves without a word.

I see Remus as not knowing he’s attracted to men. However, he realizes he was INTO it. Has he always had feelings for Sirius and not known what they were? Was he jealous of Sirius and James being so close?

Maybe Sirius already knows he, himself, is attracted to men or maybe he just thinks he’s incredibly lonely. Remus stays away as much as possible, tries not to be alone with Sirius. Eventually, however, he can’t help it—he’s curious about these mystifying feelings even though Sirius seems to have forgotten their argument and kiss, treating him like everything is normal. Remus starts to really wonder and can’t help feeling more and more like he needs to figure this out. One night, he decides to see if Sirius will respond to him. After a meeting, he lingers with Sirius, brushing hands as Sirius hands him a drink. Sirius sort of looks at him curiously. Remus wants him very badly, and they hook up.

Remus comes back to Sirius again and again, astounded by these feelings. He wonders now if he’s always been slightly in love with Sirius—or maybe it’s shared grief. He doesn’t know, but it makes him feel whole to be with him. Meanwhile, Sirius is lonely now that everyone, including Harry, has left. He’s pleased that Remus comes to see him, and he sees this physical intimacy only as a way to connect, to express what they’ve lost. Anyway, it ends disastrously as Remus thinks it’s romantic love, but Sirius simply sees it as friendship :)

[fantasy-relax]

Please just love her.

Part 1 Part 4 Part 5

Short but is something @crispyfriedshark here you go.

Your stay with Bela was the most peaceful. She was very gentle with you, she was attentive to your needs, she reminded you about your medications and if you tried to push yourself harder than you should she would look at you in a way that made you feel chills down your spine transforming you into an obedient little puppy.

The Romanian was undoubtedly the girl of your dreams, adorable, skilled, intelligent, gentle, beautiful and capable of holding you still with one hand.

Perfect.

The days you spent together were increasingly more domestic, the ease with which you lived and got along filled you with joy, despite your fears you always wanted to have a relationship like that.

Every second that passed you fell more in love with her.  You were sure that by the time the month ended, Bela Dimitrescu would be the undisputed owner of your heart.

However, not everything was rosy, the blonde was surrounded by an aura of guilt and regret that accompanied her every step she took, commonly stronger when they talked about events from your lost memory, however there were times when you touched her or talked to her with affection, that would end with her back bend and her eyes would fill with barely contained tears, like she believed undeserving of your love.

When that happened she would walk away and lock herself in the guest room where she slept, afraid of harming you in the middle of her dreams. Behind the door you could hear the sobs. You didn't know what rcaused you more pain the rejection or that your loved one believed she was guilty of your condition.

In those moments you would look for a chair to sit outside the room, telling her stories of childhood and adolescence until she decided to get out of it or you fell asleep.

Why did your darling punish herself like this? 

You would not deny that you were interested in knowing the events that had occurred in these two years because there were moments where looking at a movie poster, listening to a song, the most everyday things made you feel an unexpected emotion, whether sadness, joy or anger.

(You couldn't drink or smell coffee, the day they passed by a coffee shop while shopping. You started crying uncontrollably. You felt like someone was crushing your heart and head with tremendous violence that caused you to faint. Bela had to carry you back to the car and you had a horrible migraine for two days since then you avoided everything related to coffee)

Thinking about the memories you lost in these two years filled you with regret, however you did not want to drown in grief, perhaps you will never get them back and that is okay as long as you are still alive you can create new and better memories.

You had your loyal wife by your side, the past had no importance when she was in your future.

---------------—--------------------------

"The flight will take approximately three hours, we will see you soon"

Daniela, Angie and Donna were on their way.

What should she do? 

What was she going to tell them?

"You are a selfish bitch so obsessed with your sister's partner that at the first opportunity you manipulated her so she would stay with you."

Daniela and Angie were the ones who were with you after Cassandra left, the ones who lived through your nightmares, cries and lamentations.

When she offered you to travel the world, they were the ones who motivated you to do it, seeing how despite their efforts you had lost weight and your dark circles had not disappeared.

Now two months since you started traveling together and one month since your accident your appearance was better.  Bela did everything to take care of you and you did not refute or deny her help, instead you accepted her with a smile on your lips. You were finally getting better.

They would understand it, right?

"Angie will break a bottle on your head and Daniela will give you the beating of your life. So tell them, there will be no shortage of laughs"

They have to understand it.  It was for your own good.

"Lie"

She only wanted the best for you

"And the best is you?"

Be quiet.

"You couldn't protect Daniela, you betrayed Cassandra and the reason Mc was injured was because you left them"

Shut up

"You are a worthless girl"

Shut up

"Selfish"

Shut up

"You live your dream life at the expense of Cassandra's happiness while you lie to Daniela"

Shut up.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, Mommy would be proud of you"

I'm not like her!

"You know what they say, the council president ends up being the Headmistress"

I'M NOT LIKE HER.  I'M NOT.  I'M NOT.

"It's okay honey, here I am."

When had you arrived?

Your good arm caressed her hair while you rested your head on top of hers, hiding her face in your chest, the height difference decreased with her sitting on the bed and you standing.

"Don't cry my beautiful girl, everything will be fine"

When had she started to cry?

I didn't deserve this, I didn't deserve you, I should tell you the truth, I should end this now.

"You are not alone, my dear"

You moved her face away from your chest and kissed her cheeks, drying her tears with your lips, you smiled at her with love in your eyes before kissing her forehead tenderly.

"Let them go"

She hug you gently. You continued running your hand through her hair.

"My sister Daniela, Angie and my aunt Donna are on their way..."

"Tell them the truth"

"They don't know about us"

You laughed without malice. "Is that what you were worried about? We don't have to tell them yet, Bela. It's just a visit."

Yes, she didn't have to tell them yet.

"NO"

After you recover she would tell them. After they saw how you had improved with her by your side, they would understand.

"You're going to ruin everything!"

Yes, they will understand.

They had to.

[black-rabbit-razumikhin]

Raz Reads Les Mis (XXXVIII)

Jean Valjean - War Between Four Walls

We made it to the beginning of the end

The set up of the barricade that Enjolras&c are manning is such that, while it is impenetrable from all sides, it also means that there is no easy way to escape

In the name of keeping people as alert as possible and spirits aligned, Enjolras mandates people to sleep

There is bloodshed to be had, better to face it without the fog of a sleepless night

Though very few people manage to sleep what with all the imminent excitement

After light reconnaissance by Enjolras himself, the order is given to further reinforce the barricade (I assume the one facing the Guards)

After a headcount, it is discovered that forty men are willing to die for Enjolras' cause, but only thirty are needed

Why sacrifice ten men when they could live in a France made new?

Why leave wives, mothers, daughters, sisters, family alone with men dead when they could be cared for and protected?

The men lament that whomever leaves the barricade will surely be killed by the Guards

Never fear! There are five Guard uniforms they can disguise themselves with

Each man ends up nominating the other until five men have been selected to leave the barricade

Except now it seems like there are only four uniforms

The negotiations begin anew, everyone wanting to save the life of the other

Just as total indecision seems inevitable, a Guard uniform falls from the sky

Its messenger is Valjean

Valjean! Thank goodness you're not on the murdering Enjolras side of this revolution!

Successfully, the five chosen men disappear under the cover of darkness and uniform away from the fighting

Marius recognizes Valjean

Enjolras says in no uncertain terms that everyone there is doomed to death

Enjolras lives for his revolution, but he's also highly aware of the grave implications of its events

He gives an incredibly powerful speech to the men of the barricade, really stirring up the fire of ideals

Where Enjolras looks to the future of The People, Marius is contemplative to his own future

What is Valjean (Fauchelevant, but it's Valjean) doing here? What does that mean about Cosette?

Because even in a war, Marius has some questionable priorities

Javert also would like to know, for curiosity's sake, when he's going to die

Enjolras says he doesn't want to waste ammo

But he is allowed to get a little more comfy

And he sounds so incredibly overwhelmed by irony and exhaustion when he sees Valjean among his captors

As the sky gets lighter, anxiety grows

But the strategy for Enjolras&c is to let the Guards waste ammo on the barricade, believing it strong enough to hold

A lot of this comes down to the fortifying capabilities of one mattress

What y'all making mattresses out of back then?

Quick cut to Cosette: she's dreaming of Marius, she is pure, she is the symbol of peace that these men are meant to be fighting for

And the revolution continues

Chaos reigns, on the side of both the Guards and the revolutionaries

Something here made me think about the way red is framed back in Bishop Charlie's chapter

About red being veneration or disdain, depending on how it was used and who used it

Those behind the barricade are also hungry and upset to die on an empty stomach, but looking for pity with Enjolras is looking in the wrong place

I don't think anything could waive him from his goal

But the cartridges are running low, 15 minutes worth of bullets at most

Gavroche hears this, and makes himself of service

He's small, he's fast, he's stubborn and brave and bold

He dances around gunshots, going from dead body to dead body outside the relative safety of the barricade

Wide open out in the street, with Guards shooting at him, Gavroche collects ammunition

With each shot getting closer to him, he sings a new verse

A bullet catches him

He goes down singing

They killed Gavroche

They killed tiny Gavroche!!

And there's no time to process because there's a cutscene to the children he was looking after

Just to remind us that the world is beautiful on the day of the barricade horrors

And that the bourgeois would rather feed bread to a swan than to starving children

The starving siblings do manage to take the bread before the swans can get to it, thankfully

After that brief intermission, Marius leaps from the barricade to bring back Gavroche's body

Body, because they killed a child

Gavroche is placed on the table next to Mabeuf

But in the midst of the revolution, the Guards will give them no time to mourn

Enjolras, in assessing the situation before him, wants the inevitable deaths to be a masterpiece

Between himself and Marius, they are the de facto leaders of the barricade

And Valjean implores from Enjolras possession of the prisioner Javert

As a reward for his stellar entrance

It is granted, and Valjean leads Javert away

The assumption being that Valjean takes the role of Javert's executioner

And when he takes out a knife, Javert comments that it's far more Valjean's style anyway

Valjean cuts Javert's restraints

He tells Javert his address, and that Javert is free

A gunshot rings out

Back at the center, Marius thinks Valjean has killed Javert

Fighting

And the philosophy and history of the role of the revolution in France

Which I'd happily analyze in a less abridged-format post

But where it looked like Enjolras&c were gaining the upper hand against the Guards, quickly the tides turn

And in one line Bossuet, Feuilly, Courfeyrac, Joly and Combeferre are killed

It's so quickly jumped over, I was sure I had read the passage wrong

But they're gone

Now our named revolutionaries remain Enjolras and Marius

One on either side of the barricade, but they are being pushed back

Enjolras leads a group of men, the last men, into the wine house the barricade was set up next to

Marius is shot in the shoulder blade and a hand grips him to stop his fall

Enjolras believes him prisoner, and bars the door from entry

But any supposed safety does not last

Enjolras in the fray has killed a sergeant

And the Guards are not happy

But this is where Grantaire has been sleeping since before the beginning of the fighting

And the silence of Enjolras' acceptance of death wakes him up

He has slept through cannons and guns and fire and breaking glass and screaming men

And it's the end of Enjolras' life that wakes him up

Because he won't let his friend face it alone

Enjolras is shot with eight bullets and Grantaire falls down next to him

No time to feel the weight of this death either because Marius has been taken prisoner

Prisoner by none other than Valjean

And they are on the opposite side of this impromptu fortress to where the others are

And slip away down a back alley as the place is overrun

I need 5-7 business days to process everything I just read. There is no light, there is no goodness, nothing matters anymore. Have I spent over a month falling in love with this book and all its characters for this to be how they meet their end? Can I go back to the time when they were all full of life and love and ambition? Can I live in a world where I don't need to have read any of that?

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #330

...I did not end up playing Chrono Cross for real yesterday. Bummer.

Well, it's all right. I looked into Educational Credentials Assessments today. I narrowed it down to three companies we might go with. I'm hoping that M and J narrow it down further from there.

...I learned today that the future president is going to appoint some very dubious individuals to high government positions. One of them is a news reporter from a fear-mongering broadcasting station, and the other one is an incredibly selfish (even by normal standards) multi-billionaire who made his “career” by buying other people's successful ideas and claiming their success as his own.

...I'm terrified for the direction this place is going. I don't really wanna think about it. I'm just gonna keep my head down and follow the steps to leave, and help as many people along the way as I can.

Well. Today I made a tea. And this time, I made a whole video of the process for you, just in case you'd like... I dunno... some quiet time in a peaceful kitchen with a good view out a window while a friend prepares you some tea...

...I know the swirls of the cream were hard to see this time. I should have expected that, given that it was backlit. I did it that way because it makes the brewing swirls easier to see. I'm sorry about it; I'll remember to change the camera angle before putting in the cream next time.

I made some hotdogs to go with it, with Frito cheese, onions, ketchup, and mustard; want some...?

I managed to mostly clear the sink of dishes today, too, so that was pretty good.

...Today felt pretty empty otherwise. It kind of passed by in a blur. Though I got to have some nice conversation with a new Discord friend today; time with them is always delightful!

...I hope you get to meet them someday. I think you'd like them a lot. There's a lot of people who talk to me from this space in which I write letters to you; I think you'd enjoy all of them. My humble little space is chock full of kind, bright, gentle, and astoundingly creative and empathetic people; I feel really lucky that of all the places I could have found my voice, this is the place I found it in.

...I'm not really sure what to say at the moment. Given how empty my mind is right now, one would imagine that it shouldn't feel so heavy.

...I kinda wish I could just sit next to you and not say things for a while. And then I wish that you could look over at me and tell me you're gonna be safe, that you're not gonna throw your life away with a fight you know you can't win.

...Promise me, okay? Please promise me. Even if you can't say it out loud, still, please promise me that you'll figure out a way to fix the mess you're in without doing something stupid like trying to hurt other people or sacrificing yourself. Please. You said as a boy that you push yourself beyond your limits the way you do because you're the only one who can, right? So someone like you can find a solution in which everyone gets to live and be safe, including yourself, right...?

...Please...

…

...I decided to get chicken wings. Though I was distraught to discover that my favorite flavor - “Cheeseling”, is no longer available in my area. I was a little sad about it, but... their soy garlic and their galbi flavors are pretty stellar, too. I decided to go with galbi this time.

...These are Korean chicken wings. They're different from American chicken wings – Korean ones are crispier, juicier, and just... all around better. Though I still lament the fact that they don't seem to come in “garlic parmesan” flavor...

...Hey Sephiroth...? Have you had chicken wings? Do you like them? Do you have a favorite flavor...? Will you stay alive and un-disappeared so that you can maybe tell me someday...?

…

I saw a picture of a grilled yellowtail today, taken by someone whose thoughts I've come to enjoy when they're posted. I happened upon their profile by chance while looking for news of you some time ago. I feel lucky that I get to see this person's posts, and that I can mostly understand the language this person writes in. He shares a lot of interesting stuff; sometimes it's nature photos, and sometimes it's pet photos, and sometimes it's photos and thoughts of things I don't normally think about. I learn a little whenever I read what he writes.

...I write things back to him sometimes, but I do it in English; though I can read in his language fairly well, I don't trust my ability to compose anything in it that doesn't sound idiotic. On very rare occasions, he writes back to me, though he does it in English. I wonder why; is it that he is trying to make it more convenient for me to read? And if that's the case... should I be trying to make my things more convenient for him? I wonder.

…Maybe I'll try it next time. Though I'm afraid of being clumsy in a language that isn't mine, and having the other person think of me as a fool for it; I do genuinely enjoy the way this person thinks and speaks, but also... this person has power over the goings-on in your world, after all, and I don't wanna accidentally discredit my request for your safety by being a derpy-derp in his space...

You know what, though! I discovered today that he and I both like salt-grilled mackerel!! I felt really happy about that, for the same reason I feel happy that you and I both like pumpkin-flavored things; there's something really comforting about the fact that all of us can be so similar, no matter how far away we come from - even if the other person is a continent and an ocean away. Or... in your case, even an entire reality or universe away.

...I feel a little inspired to make salt-grilled mackerel at home; it's been a really long time since last I've done that. Though for me, it's more like salt-roasted mackerel? Because I do it in the oven; I don't have a grill. It's just... it's a high-mercury fish, and the bones are kind of a pain in the butt to extract, and also my fridge is still very full from all the stress-cooking I did, haha...

Well. I guess I'll eat. And then I'll scrub the inside of my face. And then I think I'll actually play some Chrono Cross today; I want to see Janus again. I think he's pretty neat, and I've missed him; I've not played through this game yet, and it'll be really nice to see new content that contains him. I wanna see how much he's grown...

...Sephiroth... someday, I wanna be able to see how much you've grown, too. Please give yourself that chance. Please give your planet that chance. Please give my world that chance. Please give me that chance...

I love you. Please stay safe. I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[romanthroughthefield]

okay so it wasn’t my next post but whatever-

Why Something To Believe In is Actually a Good Song (Contrary to Popular Belief):

disclaimer: i’m not a media analyst or whatever i’m just a person with an opinion (and the delusional idea that i know jack kelly better than anyone)

1. first things first i genuinely think that alan menken is a genius composer. how could i not? he has created some of the most influential scores in modern day cinema. regardless of your opinion on the song place in newsies i think that looking at the chord progression, lyrics, and instrumentals you have to admit that it is a nice song to listen to.

2. addressing some issues people have with jatherine i think a lot of the issues people have with this song come from the pre-conceived notion that their relationship was “rushed” or built on “jack being a creep” which i simply just don’t agree with. possibly a side tangent but don’t come a knockin’ doesn’t make jack out to be a creep it simply states that he participates in hookup culture. a line in which he literally laughs while singing. jack and katherine have a very flirty and joking relationship up until this point and not once did i read into this as katherine being uncomfortable. jack finds katherine as an equal, a match for his wit and humor. this is the first girl he’s ever felt a deeper connection with. he is literally in disbelief that a “girl like her could ever wind up with a guy like him.” the song only further deepens their relationship. they state that the love that they have discovered here is new for them. it doesn’t mean that their madly in love, i mean they’re teenagers, it just means that they love each other and what they brought into each others lives. it’s “rushed” if you people that this song is a confession of deep love which i simply just don’t think it is.

4. a deeper look into what believing means “jack already had something to believe in! he had the newsies” “katherine had herself and her career.” people like to deny it but jack didn’t like his life before the strike. it wasn’t because of the newsies of course but can you really think that stealing food and clothes for the boys he cares about in the lodging house was his endgame for him? that’s why he had santa fe, so he could dream. his “something to believe in” was a dream not a reality.

when katherine comes along that is his first tether to reality. they can change the way new york is run. this doesn’t have to be his life anymore. now his “something to believe in” was a reality in front of him not just a dream that would save his crushing reality of not being able to care for his boys properly.

same thing goes for katherine in the sense that her career was finally “busting out of the social pages” until she immediately got shot down. her father’s pressure was not her end goal, she wanted to make a career for herself but was denied it. when jack arrives and she finally gets a story to run with and the courage to change the way that new york is run she discovers her “something to believe in.” jack and katherine each awaken something in each other, they each believe in each other. i mean that is literally said in the song but it goes deeper than just their love for each other, they literally have changed each others lives.

4. from a composers point of view: something to believe in gets no hints/preludes/reprises/playoffs or anything of the sort which the entire rest of the album does (except thats rich im pretty sure but thats completely different). point is any number that jack or katherine sing in up to this point has either already been lamented again or will be in the future. something to believe in stands alone in its present, it is literally the time frane that jack wishes he could freeze. it is a singular moment in which their unique situations come together. before they kiss in the song jack ends his longer phrases with a stagnant note. after his kisses her the notes at the ends of his phrases climb up. from a strictly technical point of view he literally rises up because of katherine believing in him.

idk i didn’t proof read this let me know if it makes sense

[feralkwe]

An """""AU""""" where Elidibun is real, current time.

were all the quotation marks necessary? must you grind this in and wear at my willpower? (the answer is yes and why you are my bestie)

au where elidibun au isn't an au:

1. as you were kind to point out, given the timeline i've established, she would not know until the end of the dawntrail msq, possibly into the patch content. thus, she's able to move through all that happened relatively unaffected by it. possibly a little run down, but in no way she can attribute to anything other than the general realities of the circumstances of the plot. she's been able to just enjoy the adventure for adventure's sake, focus on healing, helping wuk lamat, and the utter whiplash that is her ever-complicating relationship with urianger and thancred, though that is still very much in the background. it would still need to be y'shtola who works it out, however that does or does not fit into the way lore and y'shtola's aetheric vision works. without y'shtola's part here, there would be a lot of confusion, as you might imagine lol.

2. this would... undo a lot of the peace she's found in dawntrail. the foundation of her being able to put elidibus in the past, remember him with only joy instead of pain, and look to the future being shaken by that one fucking moment on the gondola with g'raha, there would definitely be a period of unraveling. it would initially break much of what she's managed to heal. the temptation to go back in time again, or even to find a way to bring him back, would rear up hard, and it would take a lot to bring her back from the realization that none of that is possible. thankfully, i genuinely think that reconnecting with and patching up her friendship with g'raha would be a boon here.

3. the fragile are-they-or-aren't-they of kit/urianger/thancred would initially upset, just like in my actual au story. however, i think koana's position in things (whatever that looks like, i still don't know because fuck you squenix) will be in their favor. given how much those two respect koana, i can easily see him being able to coax thancred through his initial, bitter reaction more quickly than happened in "dream on." thancred would have his moment of "for once i am going to do the right thing without royal-guardedly fucking it up first" much faster, and he and urianger would shift into supportive dads much faster.

4. unless the patches give me reason to decide otherwise, i'm gonna go ahead and say elidibun is born in tuliyollal. in her way of finding and creating utter joy in everything she does, i think wuk lamat (and probably koana, too) would be insistent, and kit unable to say no. she's healed here, and while i cannot see her ever settling in one place indefinitely, given her hand in instilling peace there, and urianger and thancred's, uh, appreciation for it, it seems like the right place for this chapter of their life to take place. her legend isn't quite as large in tuliyollal, which would give them a modicum of privacy they may not find elsewhere. given the sheer volume of questions sure to arise, they will take whatever shreds of it they can get.

5. while i am pretty sure kit has never wanted to be a mother, she will come to love it. certainly a journey rife with anguish and grief, i have no doubts she will find joy in it. it is, after all, another adventure, and with the support of her friends around her and experience she has, she will make it work without giving up her traveler's soul's desires or thirst to see the world. in a way she will see it as part of the fulfillment of her promise to remember. a part of elidibus--a part born of a single moment of love--will live on. some element of it--the utterly cruel hand fate dealt him--will always quietly devastate her. she will always regret his absence and lament that by his sacrifices he was denied this, too. she will ensure that hora sees the world that his father gave everything to save, even if it was not the world he envisioned. and when he is old enough to understand, she will tell him the truth, all of it, and ensure that he never doubts that his very existence is possible because so many people loved so deeply.

thanks for the ask, but also fuck you (affectionate) because i am crying in a diner writing this. byyyyye!

[snorlaxlovesme]

what is your favorite line/section of your sick CXS fic? It is so good and I love when authors can share some of their thoughts!

i feel so spoiled with these messages from you, thank you for being so kind my godd

(aforementioned sickfic)

it's hard to choose favorite lines bc genuinely i do love the whole fic so much. a lot of the time i'm writing off the cuff and it just flows out of me in one or two sittings (it's why i'm a one-shot writer) but this was a story that took me months to complete because of all the planning involved (and absolutely fruitless research into Chinese herbal soups, since literally NONE of that research made it into the fic lmao) and so the whole thing feels really special and different from my other stories just because of how much thought was put into it.

it took a long time, but i adored writing the second half, getting to write the same day over again and try to make it identical while FEELING totally different. having Lu Guang totally in pieces over every little change he accidentally makes to the timeline was mwaa *chef's kiss*

i think my favorite line was what i eventually pulling from to make the summary on AO3

"Lu Guang is so tired. He wishes he could freeze this conversation, this whole day, and go nap for a thousand hours. The stress of it all is sucking the marrow from his bones. He wishes he could do today over again. He doesn’t know if he’d have the strength to do today over again."

idk i just feel like it really encapsulates the struggle Lu Guang goes through in this fic and might literally go through on a day to day basis trying to re-live the timeline. like i'm sure every misstep feeling like something Lu Guang would want to do over, but how many times can he handle that, emotionally? like this day mentally broke him and it's literally the most nothing day. Lu Guang forgot to make one phone call and almost suffered cardiac arrest because of it.

plus its very sweet that Cheng Xiaoshi, sick as a dog and feeling down on himself for being left alone all day, comforts Lu Guang after this moment because he can see Lu Guang is going through like a panic-induced existential crisis and mistakes it for Lu Guang ALSO feeling ill, sweet boy ♥

i also really liked the simplicity of these lines (it includes spoilers so look away if you wanna read the fic first. )

But Lu Guang thinks of the tear-streaked smile after Cheng Xiaoshi took that first bite. Spending every waking moment agonizing over his next step won’t get him anywhere. Instead, Lu Guang folds up that smile and tucks it into a corner of his mind for safekeeping. Cheng Xiaoshi thanked him for today. Maybe that is enough.

that part wasn't in the original draft. these lines are in response to CXS thanking Lu Guang for caring for him and i think i had a bit of prose where LG internally laments that he spent half the day ignoring CXS and only took care of him when it was clear Qiao Ling wasn't going to be able to, so the thanks wasn't really deserved. or something self deprecating like that

i had sent my "final draft" to a friend after revising some bits in the flashback and said "i wanna post it but i feel like i need to mess with the ending still. it feels off" my friend insisted what i had was great but i didn't know if the last line of the fic ("Timeline be damned") felt earned. Lu Guang had been a slave to the timeline for the entirety of the story, allowing him to kind of/sort of say "fuck you" to the timeline for a brief moment felt like it was going against everything i had just established, of how IMPORTANT keeping to the timeline was to Lu Guang for the sake of being able to save Cheng Xiaoshi in the future.

it was my friend that gave me the idea to write a simple thesis line that shows what Lu Guang has learned from this. that disaster is definitely a potential outcome in Lu Guang's crazy plan, but seeing Cheng Xiaoshi at peace is enough to make him want to try. like you said in your comment on the fic, if you went back in time, you'd want to be kinder. those lines are Lu Guang reminding himself that seeing CXS at peace has an emotional effect on Lu Guang as well.

ALSO idk the "fold up his smile and tucks it in his mind" bit is cute okay? it's a very cute sentence and i'm proud i wrote it lol

this is very long so i'm gonna stop rambling but again THANK YOU so much for asking me this and for all your sweet messages. i truly can't get over how wonderful it's been talking about this story with you, it's only made me love it more and i already thought it was my magnum opus lmao

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.18<< >>Ch.20

Notes: You reflect, you reflect on everything and nothing all at once.

Chapter 19: Entrapped Laments

Word count: 6.5K

That's it.

                     That's how it ends.

Grimly and anticlimactic.

You've been lying down, staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours, days even.

You tried not to be shocked; you should've seen this coming from a mile away, but here you are, sobbing your tear ducts dry until you wilt to become a stale zombie.

You can't even recall how you ended up in your bed in the first place. The last thing you remember was being in front of the door, allowing the dullness of damn all to consume your inner torments. 

Your apartment is buried in the shadows of the night, and your eyes are glassed with endless sorrow. 

Why? Why did he end it? You tried not to believe it was your fault. You trusted your instincts into thinking it was other factors.

Well, it was mostly you skewing your mind in a direction where it was something you wanted to hear, not needed. You only did it to make yourself feel better. To give yourself this distorted narrative that things are just in a rough patch, but with a little care and time, they'll go back to normal.

Well, as plainly vanilla as it could get with someone like he is. 

Was. 

Having to start thinking of him in the past will be a strange, unaccustomed response. To think back instead of thinking forward.

Which is funny—how many forward-looking outlooks were there? You try to remember if there was any deliberation about a probable future between you two. You certainly know you've voiced your desire to stay together, but now that you consider it, were there any times he mentioned a foreseeable life for you both?

You really tried to dig into your memory bank. There was that conversation you had about how you'd both raise kids if you were to have any, but was that more of a theoretical train of concepts? Rhetorical inclinations because of the tender and vulnerable moment shared before landing on that subject?

Would he have wanted kids with you? Every time you have… had sex, he has… had those primal urges to finish in you. It was very rare when he pulled out.

But that could mean anything. Maybe he has a fetish for nutting in his partners to stroke that massive, dumb ego. Some sense of accomplishment knowing the person he's with will allow him to go ahead and release in them because ‘he's just so hot,’  ‘our babies will look so cute,’ or ‘he would be such a good father to my future kids.’

You weren't projecting.

Did he really want a life with you? Everything that happened seemed so authentic and full of bliss. Did he really want to be with you in the first place?

Well, he was the one to make the first move, so that had to be something. Or maybe he did that because of the vulnerability shared before it.

Was anything real between you two?

Glancing over your alarm, the annoyingly lit green numbers sting your retinas as you hurriedly wipe away the pathetic tears for that man.

It's a quarter to six, and you have work in less than two hours. You thought about sneaking in some sleep. And if questioned about your fatigued state, you could make up an excuse that it was a restless night because you were so excited to come into work.

You would've won the best costume award for your zombie-like appearance.

The minute you stepped in the door and up to the counter, one could immediately see the appalling anger ready to burst just from Ronnie's gaze.

“I knew it! That fucker!”

“Ronnie, I didn't say anything. It was a long night. Couldn't sleep. It happens.”

“That has you looking like you just stepped out of a grave after many, many years?!”

“Rough nights can spring up on anyone, Ronnie. You've seen them on me before, so this isn't a first.”

She scoffed. You figured she wasn't going to buy into it. “I'm going to kill him. Where does he live? I know he works for some shitty tech corporation. Which one? Which building is it?”

She banged on the counter with her knuckles, trying to calm herself. “This fucker. I told his ass—I told his ass to not drag you down on his ship, but he did it anyway!”

Your head slightly tilted up at that. “What did you tell him?”

“I wanted to tell you about Sunday, but I held off for your sake, which I now regret doing.”

Your weary eyes peered into her choleric ones. 

“He came by with the box of materials you gave him when he first came here. Asshole attempted to return them during your break, but I told him not to even think about destroying anything that was built up and that he better get his shit together.”

You felt your body want to give in. Crumple to the ground and slowly dust away until there is nothing left. 

He was planning this.

He was planning on walking away, but for how long? How long was this on his mind? How long did he have that wrapped and tucked like a gift you're trying to hide from a kid before Christmas? There's a singe in your eyes as you feel them threatening to well up until you roughly dry them away.

“Did... did he say anything?”

Ronnie shook her head. “Told him we had no space, and he just swiped the box up and left without a single peep, like the bastardly coward he is.”

You didn't know what to say. What thoughts can you even conjure up after being told something like that? He came here and couldn't even face you. It didn't help that when he was visiting your job during the last week of his weird state, he only stayed for less than thirty minutes. 

Not to even mention how he would stroll into your place for an hour, barely say anything, and then depart until the next evening.

You might as well have had your eyes ripped from your sockets to have not foreseen this.

“And the fact that he broke up with you knowing you had work. I swear, the nerve of some people!” Ronnie snarled and turned to her shattered and dispirited employee and friend. “I hate what he's done to you. I should've just thrown in my two cents like I always do. I should've done it. Did he at least give a reason as to why?”

Even though all he bitterly spewed was incomprehensible for you to digest, you weren't going to expose his other life, no matter how much misfortune he battered you with.

“He merely told me it would be better to go our separate ways.”

Ronnie tapped her fingernails on her tablet; the only sound was the clacking against the screen. “And?”

“And that's it. He wanted a break, and here we are.”

That answer wasn't acceptable to her. “You know it's easy for me to find him.”

“Ronnie, please don't.”

“Don't have the last name, but I can go off the first. I have a face to the name.”

You're too tired to draw your boss back down to earth. She can be very petty when a discrete occurrence permits it. And her pettiness is telling you that this was one of those times.

“It was messy. He came in, didn't sit down, and just blurted out that we needed to break up. He went on a tirade about something that didn't make sense and told me…” a knot tangled in your stomach as you rewound his comments and synthetic, devastating explanations. Your eyes were slightly sheening before you wiped them. 

Ronnie was tight-lipped, patiently letting you take your time, but bearing that crazed wrath for Miguel.

“He told… he–he told me I shouldn't ex-exist.” Even just uttering those words made you want to vomit. 

A fracturing crack came from below as Ronnie involuntarily smashed her screen. She was doing all in her power to not go full ballistic, her face puckering to stow it shut.

“Why I can't stand some guys. Always, always the luscious ones, isn't it?” She glared up, as she could tell how sapped and worn you were. 

“I don't know what to do, Ronnie. I know it's only a guy. I shouldn't be getting this upset over him."

“No, if he was nothing but a pitiful lover, then yes, I would've said move on and much more, but this dude came into your life and was beaming these contagious rays, then randomly closed that curtain. He was the match to your firecracker, but he seemed to have gone excessive and hosed it down at full force.”

She could see the deflation with every word she snared. She hated seeing her favorite this way. “Go home and relax for the rest of the week. I'm visiting you tonight after work with comfort snacks and ‘so bad, they're good’ films. I'll also close up shop early Saturday, and I'm taking you clubbing.”

You staggered at the freely given vacation offer. Shaking your head, you began to place your bag down, taking out its contents to start working. “No, it's okay; I'll be fine. You don't have to come over or give me the days off.”

“No, you're getting the time off, whether you like it or not.” Ronnie tried to enforce it, but you wouldn't listen as you pursued your incohesive blubbering.

“And besides, the rest of the whole week? You would have to deal with Freya and Jax, and I know you can't stand them. They don't do much to help you out anyway. I just need a few pick-me-ups, that's all!” You gathered up some magazines that were randomly piled on the surface, pretending to fix and stack them. 

“I can handle them myse-”

“And besides, my day off is tomorrow, so there's my rest day. And you don't have to come; I'll be okay. He's just a guy; things like this happen; it's all a part of life. Life!”

Ronnie narrowed her eyes, observing your erratic shift in movements and tone. 

“You know what's funny about life? Life has paths that can weave and swerve without you realizing it! There's so many ways it can go! Not just one! You may never know when things can have you on top of the fucking world before it yanks you right down to the pits of–!”

“Y/N!”

You yielded. Your chest was rising heavily, everything pounding from your head to your toes. Your items were strewn across the wooden surface, and a magazine you held was crumpled with tiny rips on the edge of the cover. You dropped the paperback and entangled your hands, digging into your scalp.

“I'm sorry, I'll–I'll pay for it.”

“It's a magazine. We have multiples of this issue.” Ronnie woefully eyed your current nature and tightly embraced you. “I'm coming over tonight with the best junk food; you will be taking this week off, and we will have a damn good time clubbing. I'm not going to sit back and have you slip and decay away. I'm not.”

You stayed muted, your lifeless eyes beginning to seep out tears. You returned the hug; albeit lackluster, it was still comforting. 

You knew it'd hurt. 

You knew the misery would arrange a huge, pleasant resting nest right in your gutted heart, mind, and soul, needing the full capacity of every centimeter of your being. The more you disjointedly vented to Ronnie, still trying your best to exclude the Spider-Man business, the more sketchy his excuses became to you.

Ronnie eventually sent you off; her blood pressure was skyrocketing. She felt her own heart crunch, and she wasn't even the one who received his horrible comments and arguments. She was ready to find him, tear him apart, and beat him.

It was difficult walking back, especially when passing the gardens. You made your best efforts to speedwalk by it, but that misery made sure to slam its brakes, forcing you to gaze upon a now squashed and destroyed memory. You had to choke back many more cries, refusing to garner even a lick of attention. You turned a fifteen-minute trip home into nine. 

You didn't bother to change out of the clothes you were wearing when he dumped you. As you wallow in despair on your sofa, half listening to one of the albums you gifted him, your brain reeled itself into rewinding last night, no matter how hard you tried to veer away.

A physical wound won't go away the next day. Most certainly, a mental wound wouldn't pack its bag and leave when one wanted it too. For some, it can come with ease.

You thought of Ronnie, an individual who can seemingly move on from one relationship to another. If someone breaks her heart, she will twist and snatch the pain out, gladly replacing it with a new one until the pattern repeats itself. It wasn't a very… healthy coping mechanism, as you expressed your concerns about it, but right now, you envied that technique. 

You envied the ones who could deal with heartbreak with such ease. That vicarious sense of seemingly disregarding the instigator as if they were just another snotty-filled tissue made you jealous.

Why must this hurt? Why can't you just let him go? You both barely dated for a year, so why was this such a difficult feat to handle? Why did he have to make every day feel so special? Was that simply the honeymoon phase? Was any of that true love or just a quick and simple fling?

Your hands found your face as you whimpered before bawling your eyes out. Your shuddering breaths filled the air as you rocked back and forth, trying to cool yourself as much as possible.

It was impossible. 

It's still too fresh. Straight-out-of-the-oven fresh, that will sear one's tongue if they bite into the meal. You thought about the five stages. Denial is the first, and you certainly can feel it raging within. Then your brain had an idea. Maybe you can speed up the process. 

You said it yourself with the advice you gave him when he broke down to you about all the wrongdoings in his life. 

The ones you took the time to hear out and accepted them because you didn't care. You did care, but in a way where one can acknowledge that humans make mistakes. You took them with so much propriety. 

You aggressively shook your head, not wanting to drive yourself down an irrational, winding mental rampage. 

Does healing begin with yourself? Does it come with time? Your previous relationships eventually did, so it has to, right? 

Right?

You stood up and stomped into your bedroom, knowing exactly what particular thing to grab. Scanning the room, your eyes landed on the vase with rosy, pink tulips and snowy, white daisies that sat perfectly healthy and radiant from the day he surprised you with them. 

You took extra time caring for them. You wanted to see them keep their beautiful colors. You wanted to see them strive and keep that potential they had in their lovely fragrance and presence. You took every second, minute, hour, and day to make sure they knew their value and worth. You wanted to be there for them. You wanted to be there for him—them. 

You wanted to be there for… them.

You hastily yanked it up, making your way back to the kitchen, and ripped them out of the vase, dumping them right into the trash bin. This was certainly a faster way to get to the second stage of grief. You were speeding up the healing process by beginning it with you.

But then you found yourself immediately pulling them back out, washing any food off them, and muttering apologies about how they didn't deserve the treatment that he caused. How they don't deserve to suffer the fate you’re going through. You tried to rearrange them neatly and prettily. It wasn't as plausible, but it was still decently okay.

You sank to the damp floor, clutching on the vase, slumped yourself on a cabinet, and stayed there. Even when the record ended, you didn't budge an inch. Not even when there was knocking at your door and a call of your name, not a speck of movement. The knocks eventually became banging, with Ronnie exclaiming it wouldn't be her first rodeo entering a locked place with only a credit card and bobby pin.

You stumbled up and wobbled to the door swiftly to prevent your irrepressible employer from having the cops gang up on her. She held up a giant fast food bag in one hand and desserts and snacks in the other. She did seek to interrogate you about the vase you held, but held off as this was a night for you to ease some burdens.

That night, you and Ronnie laughed and yelled at your TV at the ridiculousness of the films while stuffing your faces with fries and your favorite ice cream. You talked about everything under the moon, excluding him, even though he lingered in the corner of your mind. You shoved it there, but he was hidden in plain sight.

Ronnie made herself even more comfortable by spending the night, cuddling, and chatting in your bed. 

“You know, I haven't been in your place in so long. I have forgotten how much stuff you got from the store.” She stroked your hair, scanning the cozy abode you had made throughout the years.

“They are interesting. And besides, it's fun digging into things from the past. Remember that one time I dressed up in clothes from those Leopard Tunes magazines?”

“My God, how could I not forget? You did look good in those camo pants.” She wanted your mind anywhere else. 

Eventually, you began to quietly weep until you dozed off. It felt nice at the moment, but even with the rest of the week off, you were still alone.

You mostly slugged around your place aimlessly, letting your music override your endeavors to forget him. It wasn't easy at first, due to the fact that you purposely kept choosing the records he was supposed to have, looping them non-stop, when you finally found the strength to shove them back into his drawer.

You remember the first present you snuck into it. It was a gift card to a restaurant you discovered that made killer empanadas and other delicious cuisines. How he swung himself to the establishment and purchased a week's worth of food, as you playfully chastised him for spending it all in one day, as he munched on the fried pastry with muffled praise. 

“Stop it!” You nearly snapped your own personal vinyl before carefully placing it down next to the turntable.

You prefer silence now.

The couch was your only security. Or that's what you like to tell yourself. 

The only time you got up was to use the bathroom or grab another bag of fruit gummies. You didn't even realize Saturday night had rolled around when you heard the shout of your name and the thumps on the door once again. Ronnie nearly keeled over when she registered that you haven't changed out of your clothes since Tuesday (you caved in and told her the exact day)  or how the ghostly stagnant space never left.

After using her work hierarchy, she had you take a nice, hot shower. She dolled you up with makeup and picked out some tight jeans and a red tank top she brought for you. She wanted to accentuate your figure, and it surely worked. She boosted you up with all sorts of compliments all the way to the club. At the moment, it was nice, but he was still there.

The entire time, you tried to have fun. You didn't want to ruin Ronnie's efforts at cheering you up, but it was difficult. The strobing lights and new-age techno music didn't exactly match your solemn mood. You tried to follow along to the tunes, but nothing came of it. 

You observed the scene, eyeing your boss hitting on some guy before she pointed to the booth you sat in. You clutched your drink as they made their way over. With another man in tow. 

You considered giving the ‘moving on quickly’ a chance.

It didn't help.

The two dudes were overall jerks. It started off with normal conversations asking about how you and Ronnie met, your job, and how long you've stayed in Nueva York. The basics. Then it started to snowball when every other word out of their mouths was how you and Ronnie were lucky to be “the winners,” as they skimmed over all the other “fine babes” for you two.

It only made you think of the first encounter with Miguel. How awkward he was, but still so pleasant. Well, as pleasant as one could be after being lunged up onto a bed that's less than twice his size. 

Ronnie snapped you out of your daze and took a hold of your wrist, irate at the now overly befuddled guys, practically screeching about how they're being pigs and not one woman would sleep with them even if they were the last ones stranded on earth. You were just as hazy, but you took the spontaneous escape with a stride.

“The two were such bastards. Fucking lowlife degenerates!” She dipped and weaved you both out into the cool and humid bustling outside of partygoers trying to enter. “And I saw him in your eyes.” 

You didn't mean to make it obvious. You didn't want to. 

Ronnie offered to take you home. You slowly nodded, with no other words exchanged, and made your way to her car.

Your head was against the cold window glass the entire ride, viewing the twinkling lights as the city passed by. Ronnie spied on your deteriorating state, suggesting that she spend the night again. You deny it, thanking her for all that she's done for the past week.

“These scars will just need some time, you know?”

“Just… I'm here for you; remember that, alright?” She parked in front of your apartment building, the pitter-patter of rain plunking against the vehicle's roof.

“I know. Thanks, Ronnie. I'll see you on Monday.” 

“Here, take my umbrella.”

“I'll be okay.” You opened the door, wishing her a good rest of her night and a farewell.

You went straight to your bed and laid there. Time will heal all. It has to. It must.

Days turned to hours. Minutes into seconds. Hours into days. Everything has merged into one. 

You would come into work late, appearing frail and worn. You would make up for the lost time by overworking yourself to consume your brain with other insignificant images and thoughts. 

You would go until you were dead exhausted, go home, sleep in, come into work, labor away, and repeat the process until you decided when you were feeling better. You have to heal. This was the only way. 

You were managing. Lies. 

You were fine. Lies.

Ronnie was severely worried about your mental health, but you were surviving. You were okay. Lies. Lies. Lies.

It was going smoothly. You had your routine. Nothing was going to break you from it, and nothing was going to deter you from this healing.

Then one night, right as you were ready to fall asleep, a slew of cash was randomly deposited into your account. Perplexed, you texted Ronnie, pleading that she doesn't need to boost your pay and that you'll send the money back. She was confused, more so when you told her the price, and then she was really flabbergasted.

And that's when it popped up. That's when his face appeared.

‘I’m sending you this for the bedsheets and mattress. I hope you've been doing well.’

This bastard.

You wanted to throw a fit. Nearly two weeks. You were doing so well for that long. Now he has the nerve to arbitrarily become this mindless ‘sugar daddy?’ He was arrogant and dense. You directly sent it all back, along with a message stating you don't want or need his money.

‘I've already replaced the sheets and all. I've survived before you, and I can continue on without.’ You didn't replace the mattress.

‘Right. I'm sorry.’

‘Yeah.’

You needed some fresh air. You had to get away from it all. Why? Why would he randomly text you? Especially when the first message back is him sending cash for something so fruitless as linen? Why did he mosey along, ruining these moments of alleviation? Why couldn't you hate him? That would make things much smoother. But here you are, heart drumming unevenly after seeing his name and stomping out of the building to escape from it all. From him.

Rain. How fucking cliché.

You began to wander aimlessly until you found a destination. 

Why does the sky shed its lament for you? You didn't want it to pity you. You needed it to pity him. He’s the root. He's the one who put you both through this.

You released a shaky breath. Who were you fooling? Why couldn't you be angry all of a sudden? Why couldn't you scream? Kick? Anything?

The rain was masking your tears, as you couldn't tell the difference. You felt so numb. Lying and suffocating all these thoughts because you didn't know how to open up the lid.

Is this how he goes about life every day? Suffering from your own inner demons all because one can't face them? You knew you certainly couldn't, no matter how much you toiled on convincing yourself.

You continued your walk when you began the descent into that hellscape rabbit hole. You slithered back to that night, triggering everything he threw at you unanticipatedly instead of the usual waves. You hated how that endless loop occupied your mind. You tried to bluff your way through, but you knew you were trapped.

You shouldn't exist because you're not ‘part of his canon?’ You need protection? From what? Him? Others? Yourself? That whole canon debacle?

You didn't necessarily get a full answer. All those reasons he dropped didn't add up. You don't understand his Spider-Man drivel; you never could, but you withhold the judgments because that's who he is. Though he seemingly couldn't separate or differentiate the two lifestyles.

He lied to you. He lied to both of you. You contemplated if he was forced into a corner to bite that intractable bullet. You desperately craved to believe that, but from how it deteriorated, he made an unbending choice for all, the royal we.

You tried to make sense of the logic behind it, but every turn was a dead end. 

You're an anomaly? You shouldn't exist?... Why were you born then?

You debated if that was existential. You concluded it was, and that was the last thing you wanted when attempting to solve a puzzle with different pieces from an overflow of different boxes. You can't make it work.

Or maybe you can, and it'll be this beautiful, monstrous amalgamation.

The rain picked up; maybe it understood something you couldn't feel. Your clothes were heavily drenched as you journeyed onward, but you didn't care. Ronnie offered that you show up during later hours for the next week or two after demanding that you participate in more self-care activities. She's sympathetic to the ones she loves and takes pride in helping them. 

You don't know how long you've been going, but you came to a halting stop in front of a certain bench. You desired to venture to the gardens but didn't want to take the risk of explaining your situation to an employee or passerby about why you were soaking in your pajamas.

Yeah, your nearly seven-foot-tall now vampire ex-boyfriend dumped you, hollering how you essentially shouldn't exist and that you'll only be there to self-reflect on your true purpose in life. 

Surely it wouldn't raise any concerns.

As you sat, the raindrops were sticking to your rear, dousing your already ruined bottoms. A flash of lighting and timid rumbles of thunder settled into the skies. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a feeble hug, discovering how alone you truly are in this moment. You appreciate your boss, but there's only so much she can feasibly accomplish on your self-guiding voyage. 

You can't casually go into a full, unambiguous conversation with anyone. This is an inescapable burden you have to face by yourself. How you must bear that information that you were going to be the cause of the world seemingly perishing away. 

How he left all that on you.

You were the reason, not him; even though he was in the relationship too, it was somehow your fault. 

When a star dies, it explodes into a supernova, turns into a black hole, or can create new stars.

This one became a black hole.

He was destroying it all. He did destroy it all. You shouldn't have fallen in love; then what were his actions conveying? It doesn't make sense. If life is basically predetermined, why did he start a meaningful connection with you? Wouldn't he also effect that canon event situation? How did your existence become an inconvenience to him?

You don't belong here. You still couldn't cloak your head around that; in fact, you couldn't do it for none of it.

You were his scapegoat. How he blamed you for doing normal, everyday things. You aren't some form of destiny, and you aren't a puppeteer. You're just an individual who wanted him to be okay, to have him forget about his worries, even if it was for one measly day.

Or maybe he was right. 

Maybe your relationship wasn't meant to be. It doesn't excuse him tacking all the blame on you. He was going all in as well. You sink your back on the bench, knowing you're going to catch a cold, but you didn't care. 

Your eyes start to scan the scenery. The burnt orange dims from the streetlights, the pond with no animals, the shrubs with blooming flowers being pelted with water to keep them going, the trees sweeping alongside the battering rains, and...

And a familiar figure in a Spider-Man suit sitting on a bench across from you. 

Miguel appeared as a child with his hand in the forbidden cookie jar. A deer in headlights. The night you accidentally first saw him in that get-up.

Despite the heavy rain, you both managed to catch each other's gazes. Your heart nearly blasted out of your chest. Not even the speediest racecar could compete with how fast it was racing. You closed your eyes, then pinched your arm, breaking a bit of skin, hoping you were just dreaming, and once again overslept. But when you opened them, he was still there, visible as can be. 

With a stroke of horrible luck, the rain began to let up, seemingly mocking you. You hated how clearly you could see his face now. He was gawking, his mouth agape, like he was trying to speak to you. 

You wished for him to say something. You dared him to express anything with the blazing leer you directed towards him. You refused to remove your inhospitable attitude.

You wanted him to do it. You desperately wanted him to call out for you.

You're still staring. Why is he such a coward? Ronnie was right. Yet, you're one to speak if you couldn't do what you wanted him to do. 

His lips move once more, but he catches them. You wouldn't know what to say or what questions to ask. Well, you did, but you didn't have the willpower to achieve it. 

You doubted that you would both move. You learned that you're both very headstrong, unbending to crack, and will hold your stances. Rather, it was for something as simple as spoiling one another while the receiver tried to deny it or as big as someone who would try to wedge in between you two.

How ironic that the one who did successfully wedge in between was the one you trusted most.

You both were stuck in a staring contest as your eyes started to sting. Was it from not blinking or the tears threatening to well up because of him?

Say something. Say anything.

You could tell his talons were digging into the wooden seat; you surveyed that knee vigorously judder. You gripped onto the edge of the bench, repulsed that your own hand wanted to help soothe and rub the troubles away.

His lips were pursed firmly as the rain stopped. You could hear the grating emitting and the sweeping winds whooshing in your ears, but they were also stinging at your eyes. You fought to keep them open, your eyelids twitching uncontrollably. He wasn't moving. He was straining himself, and you knew. You wanted him to break first. You needed him to.

But you broke and shattered all over.

You yelled out and slammed your eyes shut, rubbing them fiercely. Blinking rapidly at the wet, muddy ground as you attempted to get some moisture back into them. You jerked your head up as a scowl formed on your face.

He was gone. 

You hated how he continued to prove Ronnie's point over and over. He is a coward. Running at the first signs when things go downhill.

You refused to cry. You refused. You stayed seated for the next twenty minutes, until you finally opted to just go home. 

When you made it back, you stormed straight into your bedroom, not even remembering how you grabbed one of his shirts, but you did. You hugged it close to your chest and fell asleep.

Unbeknownst to you, he was still there. He was there, making sure you were safe and okay. That he will still care for you even when he's not there with you.

As another week passed, you lazed on the couch swiping through online dating profiles, another attempt to rush the healing business. This was a way for you to get some control back, whatever that may have been.

It hasn't been the best of luck, especially when you jumped the ship for the first guy who swiped right on you. He wasn't that bad-looking, and the conversations you held were decent, so you decided to meet him at some restaurant downtown. 

And it was a horrible time. 

It didn't help that you technically didn't really get to know him. It was only enough to clear your mind after the park incident, but you regretted your poor intuition and lack of judgment due to being desperate.

He was more of a talker, which didn't seem bad at first, but he wouldn't allow you to get a single word in, and he nearly ate all the food off your plate. You couldn't remember the rest as it was a blur, but you recalled texting Ronnie to save you from it.

She rescued you after paying for your meal, and you both went to get ice cream fudge sundaes. You didn't mention him at all to her. Rambling about everything, how it was a silly date, and you'll discover a better pick.

But you didn't want to pick another. You didn't want to mindlessly search over and over because he still lingered. No matter how much you persist in trying to remove him from your thoughts, he always finds a way back.

You needed something back. Stumbling up to your feet, you slogged through the clumps of candy wrappers and bags from cheap snacks, clothes you mindlessly tossed on the floor, not even bothering to pick them up, and several empty soda cans and half-finished or barely touched water bottles.

In your room, you eyed the flowers, whose petals began to fall off. Grabbing a water bottle, you poured the liquid into the vase, gently stroking a tulip.

“It's okay. Just because I'm withering doesn't mean you have to as well.”

Satisfied with the given amount, you flopped to your knees and eyed a certain drawer you left untouched. Taking a hold of the handles, you wrenched them open and absently glared at the clothes and objects, daggers of grief and solemnity cascading on your heart and mind.

Pulling each item out one by one, you ridiculed yourself for reminiscing. Have you forgotten the words he spoke to you? What all he threw at you that night? The actions he took upon himself that led him up to those final moments?

You needed something back, and you were going to get it.

Gathering up all the records, fabrics, picture frame, and the lavender spray bottle, you marched out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, right up to the bin. You were ready to take it all back. You were prepared to sonic boom your way to a mended soul. You are ready to take back that control. You needed this.

You were ready.

Suddenly, you were back on the couch, his contents left sitting on the coffee table as your thumb hovered above his name. You were dazed as you clicked it and began typing.

‘Hey…’

Don't. Why are you doing this? You know this is wrong; you didn't want to.

‘Hey.’

Why did he respond so quickly? Don't, don't. You needed to take back that control.

‘I forgot you have a bunch of stuff still over here. Do you want to pick them up?

Stop. Stop. You know what will happen, so why are you trying to give in?

‘I will come by and grab them. And I'll drop off the key and your things.’

Fuck. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck you. You shouldn't be crying; you can't, but you couldn't stop the endless, flowing streams.

‘Okay, just text me when you're coming by so I can have them ready.’ Your eyes darted up to the table, then back down on the screen.

You remembered during your schooling days when you learned about the dark, blue parts of the ocean. If you accidentally fall into one, you get sucked into an abyss. They warn you about avoiding them by staying in the light, crystal-blue parts. But those parts have been tainted. Why would you ever want to be near a singular spot of transparency if you know that there is more out there to be discovered? Even if that small section is open and clear, what about the others that are purposely hidden?

He's still texting. The three dots have been going on for over a minute now.

You shouldn't be curious. You shouldn't care. You don't want to care. You won't care.

‘Okay, I will.’

Your phone slipped from your hands as you gripped your hair.

“Please tell me, Miguel. Please tell me your true thoughts. Please tell me you still love me; even though you never spoke those words, every action you displayed said it for you.”

You can't feel your face anymore. Was it from the tears? Or the lack of emotions?

At this point, that split second of control you audaciously acquired was snatched. Snatched away like a thief to a jewel.

What have you done? What devastation have you scorned upon yourself?

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@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy