#ashes of memory more like ashes of gays

[butterflies-and-mirrors]

I still find it very funny that in the ashes of memory storyline when Alice, Orpheus and Frederick were in the racecourse and Frederick pulled out a gun on them Orpheus told Alice that he must be experienced because he has bruises on his palms but the thing is. Frederick was wearing gloves at all times whenever he left his room because of his condition so like. How did Orpheus know he had bruises on his palms. Is there something you want to share with the class Mr. Novelist?

[carewyncromwell]

[Marvel AU] Jacob Cromwell/Duncan Ashe Moodboard

featuring Jacob as Steve Rogers “Captain America”  and Duncan as Bucky Barnes “the Winter Soldier”

“...Jacob...?”

“You know me now? Or do you?”

“...Your mother’s name was Lane. Your sister was Carewyn. You called her ‘Pip.’ ...You never shut up about her -- how much you missed her, how much you’d make her proud. You wrote her a letter every morning at eight, no matter where you were on the front -- even in a pitch-black tank with nothing but my lighter to help you see. ...You...loved her more than anyone...”

“Nice facts. Did you collect those from hacking security cameras, or interrogating other targets?”

“Oh, for fu -- Jacob, it’s me! I know the Soldier’s a good actor, and I’m pretty damn sure I know what S.H.I.E.L.D.’s told you about me. Master of disguise -- able to blend in like a chameleon, fluent in seven languages -- the ultimate assassin? ...That was me, but -- it wasn’t. It wasn’t really me. But right now, I...right now, this is me, Jacob. ...Look in my eyes. You know it’s me.”

“...If it is really you...then tell me why you saved me, from the river.”

“Wha -- oh, come on! I -- you know why! You have to know why. How could you not, when you let me just keep hitting you, over and over again -- when you must’ve known I wouldn’t actually be able to go through with it -- ?”

“I didn’t know that. You’re a genetically-enhanced assassin, Ashe -- I knew full well you could kill me, if you tried. ...I just knew I wouldn’t be able to hurt you. No matter what you’ve done, no matter what orders I was given -- no matter what you might do to me...I would never be able to hurt you, Ashe.”

“Jacob...”

“Ashe...I lost you once. I’m not going to lose you again.”

“...Jacob... ...You goddamn idiot...it’s all the same, for me.”

[babysukiii]

regina’s puppy (4)

// regina has a soft spot for you, but when she refuses to accept why, someone else might swoop in and take your attention away from her. //

warnings: soft!regina, fluff, pining, LOTS of pining, regina is falling for the reader hard, reader is a gay mess, regina is a lesbian who’s terrible at emotions. (don’t get too used to fluffy chapters this is the calm before the storm…)

(this part 4 of the series, read part 3 here)

you end up replaying gretchen’s party in your head over the weekend. you can’t seem to stop thinking about the look in regina’s eyes when she saw you and dani talking. it was the angriest you’ve ever seen her, and then afterwards she just pretended as if it never occurred. yet it was engraved into your brain like a branded memory; permanently there for you to think about at night.

you couldn’t figure out why regina was so enthralled by you… if you could call it that. as you started to become more aware of what dani said on friday night, how you were regina’s “puppy”… it caused you to overthink a few things. this entire time you thought regina was getting closer to you all of a sudden because she enjoyed your company. now you feared it was because she just wanted some new pet to play with.

you and regina had developed a routine on the nights you couldn’t convince your parents to allow you to stay the night. she’d call you, and you’d talk for hours; sometimes till you fell asleep. though saturday night you used a flimsy excuse of being at your grandmas house; she new it was a lie. then on sunday, you barely texted her at all. she knew something was up right away, and she wasn’t going to tolerate it.

as soon as you walked out of your house to catch the bus on monday, regina’s jeep was parked on the side of the street. your heart immediately began to flutter as it usually does whenever you see the blonde. she rolls down her window, and you catch a glimpse of how gorgeous she looks. your legs have a mind of their own as you begin to walk up to her car, furrowing your brows. “don’t you usually pick up gretchen on mondays?” you question, and she shrugs, flashing you that colgate smile that makes your knees week. “she can take the bus. get in, loser.” she taunts you.

you can’t help but sheepishly smile as you get into her passenger side. “she’s gonna freak out. she was texting the group chat all weekend about how her parents found puke in her grandmas ashes.” you giggle, and regina lets out this strained laugh that isn’t her usual one. “yeah, i tried calling you but you were busy.” she grumbles, and you tense up slightly. “and you were dodging my texts. what gives?” she asks, as she begins to drive. she doesn’t turn on music like she usually does, only showing you how serious she is.

“i just couldn’t stop thinking about what happened on friday.” you start cautiously, and she frowns, an agitated expression etching itself onto her features. “seriously? that fucking bitch deserved a slap, y/n.” she defends herself, and you flash her a look. “i’m not talking about the slap… i mean, i’m actually surprised you didn’t do worse.” you joke softly, trying to lighten the heavy tension in the air. regina lets out this tiny exhale; if it weren’t so quiet in the car you may not have heard it. that’s when you take in how wrought up she seems, as if she’s been stressing over something.

surely she wasn’t stressing over you avoiding her for two days… right?

“then what is it? why are you being weird?” she questions demandingly, sounding genuinely upset. “because i can’t stop thinking about what dani said!” you huff out, sounding the most frustrated she’s ever heard. upon seeing your exasperated demeanor, she calms down slightly. realizing something was actually wrong. “y/n, everything that loser said was bullshit—“ she starts, but you cut her off, “she was right though! i am such a different person now and it’s only been a month.” you counterpoint, causing her to bite her tongue.

regina hates to be interrupted, but she really enjoys you and whatever it is that’s budding between the two of you. she doesn’t want to lose it because some stupid jock said something at a lame party she only went to in order to save face. “and you don’t like who you are? you don’t enjoy the way we’ve been hanging out all the time?” regina questions, you shake your head. “i love spending time with you… but dani called me your puppy, gina. is that seriously what people think of me now? is that what you think of me?” you ask persistently.

the blonde shakes her head rapidly in disagreement. “i don’t think of you as my puppy… just because you have the qualities of one, doesn’t mean i consider you one.” she tells you, and you frown. “how do i have the qualities of a puppy?” you can’t help but ask, and she shrugs. “loyal, obedient, always happy to see me.” she flashes you that infamous smile, and you roll your eyes in response. “y/n, dani is just jealous because you’re hanging out with me and not her. she only said that to get under your skin, and clearly it worked.” she states, and your silence causes her to reach for your hand.

her touch sends shockwaves throughout your body. “don’t be angry at me over some comment a dumb jock made because you wouldn’t go into a basement with her.” she practically pleads, and you know it’s the closest thing you’ll get to any sort of comfort from regina george. “besides, don’t you like hanging out with me?” she questions, and you throw her a look that says “are you serious”. “of course i like hanging out with you, you’re like my favorite person.” you admit, and regina feels something tugging on the heartstrings she didn’t even realize she had.

“then stop listening to what anyone else says.” this sounds more like a command, so you find yourself nodding dumbly. your brain always goes fuzzy whenever she tells you to do something, and the only coherent thought is to do whatever regina says. god, maybe dani was right, you are regina’s puppy.

you walk into school with the blonde by your side. you’ve adjusted to the gawking students that ogle regina as she walks by. you really don’t blame them; ever since freshman year you’ve been one of those people who gaze at her in admiration. until now. regina’s strange interest in you hasn’t gone unnoticed by anyone else, and you’re now beginning to adjust to all the attention.

“please never make me take the bus again!” gretchen exclaims as she storms up to the both of you, and regina rolls her eyes. “i had to pick up y/n today. you’ll survive.” the blonde sounds unamused, causing gretchen to huff in response. “i already said i’m sorry, even though it’s totally not my fault i have a totally hot basement that makes people horny.” she says, and regina narrows her eyes at her friend. “we discussed this already. i’m going to be taking y/n to school from now on.” her tone is up for no disagreements, and you shake your head in protest. “it’s okay, gina. i don’t mind taking the bus—“ you start, but she cuts you off.

“i like picking you up. hush.” she shushes you quickly, and you try to ignore the way the back of your neck heats up. gretchen pouts, but doesn’t argue any further. as the three of you approach regina’s locker, karen bounces up to you guys. “did you guys here about the new girl who’s transferring here tomorrow?” she asks curiously, and regina quirks a brow in clear interest. “a new girl? why wasn’t i informed about this?” she questions, and karen shrugs. “i heard it from arnold who says he heard it from elizabeth g.” she explains, and the blonde presses her lips together tightly.

“a new student nobody bothered to tell me about… huh.” she says as she thinks about it for a moment. “she better be more interesting than the last new student we had. jeanette renolds is such a bore.” the blonde adds simply, and that’s that. the topic of the “new student” doesn’t come up again. at least not in front of you.

during lunch gretchen begins to talk about how close homecoming is, regardless of it being 3 months away. “you’re running for homecoming queen again, right regina?” gretchen asks, and regina glowers. “of course i am. why wouldn’t i?” she responds with a question, before looking at you. “are you going to vote for me to be homecoming queen?” she asks, her voice flirty and sweet. your cheeks flush under her gaze, “of course, i voted for you last year too, gina.” you confess, and this elicits a large smile from your favorite blonde.

“everyone voted for regina last year, and this year it’s not gonna change. i don’t even think you need a campaign manager this time either.” gretchen says, and regina rolls her eyes. “i am my own campaign manager, idiot. but i have y/n to help me with more stuff this year, like what color scheme i should go with.” she says suggestively, as her gaze flickers over to you. your eyes widen in slight panic, “what?? i can’t pick your color scheme! i’m terrible at picking out stuff. i mean, you chose my entire wardrobe.” you remind her, and she shrugs.

“don’t care. your opinion is the only one that matters to me, so we’ll start looking at dresses next week. for you too.” her tone is left for no debates, and you don’t really pay attention to anything past “your opinion is the only one that matters to me”. the heat rises to your neck and face, and regina’s grin deepens. “are we still hanging out after school, or are you bailing on me today again?” regina pointedly asks you, and you nod eagerly. “we can try that new pretzel place—“ regina cuts you off, “you’re so cute, i can’t do too many carbs but i’ll get you pretzels on the way to where i’m taking you.” she declares, and your eyebrows perk up.

before you can question the blonde the bell rings, “i’m not doing anything after school—“ gretchen tries to say but regina cuts her off. “i didn’t ask, and you weren’t invited.” she hisses, and gretchen huffs. nobody dares question why regina is so adamant on spending time with you; especially alone time. honestly, you’re a bit scared to ask her as well. not because you think she’ll be mean to you, regina is never mean to you, no, you’re just afraid you may mess up whatever this is.

you’re ashamed to admit regina has become the center of your universe. she takes up all the spaces in your brain, and you can’t even go an hour without thinking about her. you and regina end up hanging out after school as promised. you end up sitting in the passenger seat of her car, a medium sized lemonade in your hand along with your mini pretzel bites. regina steals glances at you every now and then; you contentedly hum along to the song that’s playing as you curiously gaze out the window.

the only thought that keeps circling her mind is how much she likes this. just being around you.

“are we going on a hike?” you ask your hundredth question, and regina groans. “no, i hate walking.” she reminds you, and you have this adorable expression on your face as you think about other possibilities. the further from town you get, the further your mind wanders. “the beach?” you ask, and she shakes her head. “nope; i hate getting sand in my shoes and car.” she deadpans, and you go quiet for another few seconds. “we’ve been driving for almost forty minutes… what time are we coming back?” you inquire, and regina rolls her eyes, feigning annoyance.

“you already wanna leave me?” she responds with a question of her own, and you shake your head rapidly. “no! i love hanging out with you, i just gotta text my mom and let her know before we end up somewhere with no service.” you explain yourself, and regina pretends as if she’s thinking about it for a moment. “just tell your mom you’re gonna spend the night at mine.” she orders, and you flash her a look, “gina, i can’t spend the night on a monday.” you remind her, causing her to huff.

“fine, tell her i’ll have you home by ten-thirty.” she mutters begrudgingly, and you smile in satisfaction. you send the text to your mom right as regina turns onto another highway to leave town. “okay, now i’m really curious! please tell me where we’re going.” you sound more excited than before, and the eagerness in your voice tugs on the blonde’s heartstrings. “it’s just a little place i like to go when things are too much. todays like the first pretty day we’ve had in awhile, and i wanted to take you.” she reveals, causing something inside of you to melt.

“y-you wanna take me to your spot?” you sound genuinely stunned, and regina snorts. “duh, who else would i wanna bring there? gretchen talks too much, karen doesn’t know what’s going on half the time, and everyone else only hangs out with me because i’m “regina george”… it’s only natural for me to take my special girl to my special place.” she retorts easily, causing the blood to rise to your face. regina smirks as she notes how flushed your cheeks are; she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of the affect she has on you.

“we’re almost there; finish your pretzels.” she commands, and you don’t have to be told twice.

the sun is nearly setting by the time you both pull into a secluded area off a random road in the middle of nowhere. you can’t help but wonder how regina knows about this place; how long she was driving to find it one day. as she drives further into a green grassy area full of trees, with beams of sunlight peaking through the gaps in the tree lines. your eyes widen as she drives further, only going deeper into the beautiful woods.

you roll down your windows excitedly, “oh my gosh this place is so pretty!” you squeal tempestuously. regina tries not look at you in fear she may swerve and ram into a tree, but your sudden uncontrolled behavior causes her to smile widely. if anyone she knew were to see it, they would hell froze over. she’s glad you aren’t paying any attention to her, because you would’ve seen the unusually soft expression on her face. you turn to look at her, catching her grinning from ear to ear, “we haven’t even gotten to the really cool part.” she tells you, and your eyes enlarge as they gaze into her.

“cooler than a literal forest out of a picture book!?” you ask and she chuckles, “you’re way too easy to impress. i’m starting to think i could park behind the 7/11 with you for an hour and you’d have fun.” she murmurs, and you shrug as you look back out the window. “as long as it’s with you.” you say this so easily, and it causes her smile to fall. her expression morphs into a baffled one, and she can’t stop herself from wondering why... why do you enjoy being around her so much?

regina makes a slight turn, and you let out this breathless gasp as your eyes land on a creek with a waterfall. it isn’t big, but it’s beautiful. “oh my god… gina! this is so beautiful!” you shriek erratically and you unbuckle your seatbelt as you the car comes to a full stop. you run out, and her eyes widen, “hey! i said i hate walking!” she hisses, trying to sound angry but she can’t even recognize herself.

if the girls heard me right now, they’d never respect me again.

“come on, gina!!” you order her, and regina— the girl who never takes orders from anyone— sighs as she turns the car off and gets out. “look at how clear the water is!” your enthusiasm causes regina to approach you, and act as if she hasn’t already seen this place a hundred times before you. it looks different when you’re here… regina can’t seem to place why. she isn’t sure if she’ll ever enjoy coming here without you again, and she doesn’t care. all she can do is stare at how the light of the sunset reflects off your big, wondrous eyes.

“if i would’ve known you liked this place so much, i would’ve brought you here awhile ago. i just never thought of bringing anyone till now.” she admits softly, and your smile deepens, which is something she didn’t even think was possible. “you haven’t bright anyone else here?” you ask timidly, and she nods earnestly. “just you.”

her confession causes you to wrap your arms around her, hugging her abruptly. her eyes widen a bit; she’s never been the hugging type… yet as your delicate grasp tightens around her lovingly, in a way she’s never felt, she can’t help the way her stomach flutters pathetically. she hugs you back, and can feel you practically melt into her. you’re so happy, and it hits her that you’re happy because of her. she’s made people cry, yell, curse, and run in the opposite direction… but she’s never made anyone feel happy.

the fleeting thought alone terrifies her like nothing else ever has. regina george is falling in love with you, and she isn’t sure how to stop it.

a/n: please don’t hate me but tumblr wasn’t letting me tag some of your accounts 😭💔

taglist: @xvyzxx @spideyznss @whateveryouwantsee11 @alwaysgoodnight @chaoticcoffeequeen @mcu-junkie @lottienatswife @vanessashands @natashas-whore @southelroys @dandelions4us @ylenabelxva @probs-reading-fanfics @dont-emily-me @luz-enjoyer @flocon-neigeux @jjiwoo06 @aminetil @pyro-les @tyler-06 @justlovemaths @teenybean @emskies @tulipatheticee @marvelwomenarehot0 @syddie-reads @slaysksmska @cas-is-weird-ig @scarlettbitchx @pianogirl2121 @puppy-danvers2016 @messsor @dmenby3100 @that-one-little-soybean

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron (6)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.(She/her)

Word Count: 6.7k

A/n: I slacked last night to post this chap, ya girl was tired lol. f this 9-5 ON A SUNDAY- anyways yall enjoy lol

_________________________

The hum of the Undercity stretched below you as you sat perched on the edge of an old rooftop, the air thick with the scent of metal, oil, and faint traces of decay. The flickering neon signs in the distance cast an eerie glow across your features as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. The city buzzed with life, chaotic and unyielding, but up here, it felt strangely quiet.

“Brooding already?” Jinx’s familiar voice broke the silence.

You turned your head slightly to see her slinking toward you, her wild hair catching the light like a chaotic halo. She plopped down next to you with her signature reckless ease, her legs swinging freely over the edge as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“I don’t brood,” you shot back with a smirk. “You’re confusing me with Vi.”

Jinx snorted. “Vi’s brooding is all fists and scowls. You? You’re more of a ‘mysterious loner with a tragic backstory’ kind of brooding. Very cinematic.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Yeah? And what’s your deal? Crazed powder monkey with a flair for dramatics?”

She gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. “Excuse me, but I prefer the term artistic mastermind.”

“Sure,” you said, leaning back on your hands. “That’s definitely what people call you.”

The banter continued, sharp and fast, each quip met with equal intensity. But then, amidst the teasing, Jinx’s voice softened just slightly. “I missed this.”

You glanced at her, your smirk fading into something gentler. “Missed what? My dazzling wit?”

“Maybe,” she said with a sly grin, but her eyes betrayed her vulnerability. “Missed you.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, the weight of everything you both had been through pressed down like a storm cloud. Without thinking, you reached out and took her hand, your thumb brushing over her scarred knuckles.

Jinx’s gaze dropped to your arm, her sharp eyes catching the faint lines of ink peeking from under your sleeve. “What’s with all these tattoos, anyway?” she asked, tilting her head. “You never told me.”

You hesitated for a moment, the question digging up memories you preferred to keep buried. But Jinx’s curious stare was relentless. “They’re… a map,” you admitted finally. “A map my so-called family gave me. They told me it would lead me to something important—something I needed to find to figure out who I was. But it’s from my past, and I haven’t looked at it in years.”

Her interest piqued, Jinx leaned closer. “A map, huh? Lemme see more of it.”

Before you could protest, she tugged at the hem of your shirt, lifting it enough to reveal the intricate network of lines and symbols inked across your chest and stomach. The tattoos were stark against your skin, a labyrinth of pathways and cryptic markings.

Jinx’s fingers hovered above the lines before tracing them lightly, her touch featherlight. “This… this is insane,” she murmured, her usual chaotic energy replaced by quiet fascination. Her fingers stopped at a particular symbol etched near your ribs.

“Wait a second.” Her voice grew sharper, her finger tapping the symbol. “This. I’ve seen this before.”

You glanced down. “What about it?”

“It’s Silco’s symbol,” she said, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and unease. “How the hell do you have this?”

You frowned, shaking your head. “I don’t know. It’s just part of the map. I never understood half of what these marks mean.”

Jinx stared at the symbol for a moment longer before her fingers resumed their path, tracing the lines of ink as if trying to decode you. Her touch lingered, and her voice softened again. “You know, when I was a kid… I used to dream about someone like you.”

Her confession caught you off guard. “Someone like me?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice distant, almost wistful. “Someone who could pull me out of the mess I was in. Someone strong, who’d see me for who I am and not some broken thing. Someone who could…” She trailed off, her eyes meeting yours. “Give me the life I always wanted but could never have.”

Her words struck a chord deep within you, and without thinking, you leaned closer. “And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her lips curled into a faint smile. “Now I’ve got you. So, I guess… dream fulfilled.”

The warmth in her eyes pulled you in, and before you could stop yourself, you closed the distance, your lips pressing against hers. The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with all the unspoken things you’d been too afraid to say.

Jinx melted into you, her hands gripping your shoulders as if anchoring herself to reality. And for a moment, everything—the chaos, the pain, the uncertainty—faded away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet glow of the Undercity.

Caitlyn sat at her desk, a chaotic array of maps, reports, and scattered photographs spread across the once-pristine surface. Her office, once a model of order and discipline, now reflected the turmoil in her heart. The faint hum of Piltover’s cityscape filtered through the window as she poured over the last known locations associated with you. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, but she refused to stop. Not until she had something solid to go on.

“Commander Kiramman, there’s… not much to go on here,” the enforcer standing before her said hesitantly, his voice grating against her frayed nerves. “The reports from the Undercity are unreliable. And the last sighting was weeks ago.”

“That’s unacceptable!” Caitlyn snapped, slamming her hand down on the desk. The officer flinched at her sudden outburst. “I don’t care if the information is unreliable. You are reliable, aren’t you? Then do your job. You find her.”

The enforcer opened his mouth as if to protest, but the icy fire in Caitlyn’s eyes silenced him. “This isn’t just another case,” she continued, her voice low but seething with urgency. “I don’t want excuses—I want results. She’s alive, and I need to find her before someone else does.”

The officer nodded nervously and backed out of the room, leaving Caitlyn alone with her thoughts. She leaned back in her chair, running a hand over her face as a wave of emotion washed over her. She couldn’t shake the guilt, the memories of what she had done to you.

For weeks, Caitlyn had been consumed by a singular need to find you—not to capture you, not to punish you, but to make things right. Now that she knew the truth, that Ambessa had fed her lies and manipulated her into believing you were responsible for her mother’s death, the weight of her actions was unbearable. She had hurt you in ways she couldn’t take back, and yet, she couldn’t let go of the feelings she still carried for you.

She cared for you. Loved you, even. That much she couldn’t deny anymore.

You had always been a mystery, but there was something about you that drew her in—your strength, your resolve, the quiet way you carried the scars of your past. And now, knowing you had been innocent all along, those feelings burned even brighter, mixed with an aching need to atone.

She stood abruptly, her decision made. Grabbing her coat, she strode out of the office and made her way to the grand steps of Piltover Tower. By the time she reached the top, a crowd of enforcers had gathered below, their curious murmurs filling the air. Caitlyn stood tall, her sharp gaze scanning the assembled troops as she prepared to address them.

“This city,” she began, her voice steady but firm, “has been through hell. We’ve lost good people—our families, our friends. And in the midst of that pain, we’ve made mistakes. I’ve made mistakes.”

The enforcers exchanged uneasy glances as Caitlyn’s words hung in the air.

“I’ve come to realize that some of the choices we’ve made, some of the people we’ve blamed, were wrong. There’s someone out there—a person who was wronged by this city, by me. And now, they are in danger.”

She took a deep breath, her voice softening as her eyes drifted to the horizon. “Y/n isn’t a threat to us. She never was. And I won’t let Piltover’s mistakes take her away from me again.”

The crowd murmured, confused but attentive.

“I’m ordering a citywide search,” Caitlyn continued, her voice hardening with resolve. “Every corner of Piltover and the Undercity will be searched. I don’t care how long it takes—we will find her. And she is to be brought back alive.”

Her last word rang out like a commandment, silencing any doubts among the ranks.

“There’s another threat,” she added, her expression darkening. “Someone is targeting her—someone who wants to use her for their own gain. We cannot allow that to happen. I won’t allow it.”

Her gaze swept over the crowd, and for the first time in weeks, Caitlyn felt a sliver of clarity amid the chaos. She turned sharply, walking back into the tower, her mind already racing with plans.

This wasn’t just about making amends or clearing your name. It was about protecting you, saving you from the same forces that had taken so much from her. Because deep down, Caitlyn knew the truth: she still loved you, and she wasn’t ready to lose you again.

The streets of the Undercity buzzed with the usual mix of life and chaos as you walked alongside Sevika. She lit a cigar as the two of you moved through the crowd, your hood pulled low to avoid unnecessary attention. It was a routine now—your almost daily rounds to reinforce your presence. Let the people see you, remind them that you weren’t a ghost, that the streets still had a protector, even if it wasn’t the one they expected.

“I don’t get why you bother with all this,” Sevika muttered, exhaling a thick plume of smoke. “Your face is plastered on every corner. Pretty sure they know you’re alive.”

You shrugged, adjusting the bag slung over your shoulder. “Gotta stay ahead of the rumors, Sev. Besides, it’s not all for appearances.”

“Right.” Her smirk was as dry as the tone in her voice. “Totally not about that dish Jinx keeps whining about or those goggles you were ogling for the kid.”

You shot her a look, but it was playful. “She’s been craving it for days. And Isha… she’s been working so hard on her little machines. She deserves something nice.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, taking another puff. “You’re soft, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you admitted with a small smile. “But they make it easy.”

Her expression softened briefly, but then she leaned in, her tone turning teasing. “So, you and Jinx, huh? Gonna make it official or keep tiptoeing around each other?”

You scoffed, the tips of your ears burning. “I don’t even know what we are. But… it’s something. She’s something.” You hesitated, your voice dropping as the words spilled out before you could stop them. “They both are. Isha and Jinx, they make me feel… like I belong. Like I finally have something worth holding onto.”

Sevika’s teasing grin faltered, her usual tough exterior replaced with something quieter, almost understanding. “Yeah, well… don’t screw it up.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Her mood shifted abruptly, her eyes narrowing. “Speaking of screwing things up… you know Caitlyn’s been sniffing around, right?”

That caught your attention. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen her,” Sevika said, her tone casual but her gaze sharp. “Gathering troops, barking orders. She’s definitely on a mission, and I’m guessing it’s to find you. Word’s out, Spark. She knows you’re alive.”

You frowned, your mind flickering to Caitlyn and the weight of your history with her. But before you could dwell too much, you changed the subject, unwilling to let the conversation linger there. “What about you, Sev? When are you gonna stop babysitting me and get yourself a love life?”

She barked a laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, because brooding loners with bionic arms are a hot commodity these days.”

“Hey, I’m proof it works.”

Sevika rolled her eyes, shoving your shoulder lightly. “Shut up and go get those goggles, sap.”

The teasing put a smile on your face as you ducked into a dimly lit shop tucked into the corner of the street. The air was thick with grease and the metallic tang of machinery. Rows of mismatched tools, gadgets, and gear lined the shelves, but it was the sleek pair of goggles hanging near the back that caught your eye. You reached out for them, turning them over in your hands, when a voice from the shadows made you freeze.

“Well, well… if it isn’t the lost one.”

The voice was low, measured, and carried an unsettling familiarity. You turned slowly, your eyes locking onto a tall, gaunt man stepping out from the shadows. His face was pale, his sharp features shadowed by a hood, and his eyes gleamed with a cold intelligence.

“Singed,” you said cautiously, your grip tightening on the goggles.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me,” he said, his tone almost amused. His gaze flicked over you, lingering like he was studying a specimen under glass. “But it’s me who knows you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, keeping your voice steady.

“Don’t you?” His lips curved into a thin, cruel smile. “Oh, you’ve forgotten. But that’s to be expected, isn’t it? The past buried so deep, you don’t even recognize the name you were given.”

You narrowed your eyes, but before you could speak, he said it—a name you hadn’t heard with that voice since you were a child. The sound of his tone–it sent a jolt through you, like a trigger and for a brief moment, your vision blurred.

The purple flash. It came unbidden, your body reacting to the name like a spark to a fuse. Your heart raced as you blinked, forcing yourself back to clarity, but Singed had already noticed.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, his smile widening. “It’s still in you. Buried, yes, but not gone. I was right to be patient.”

“What are you talking about?” you demanded, but your voice wavered.

“Oh, you’ll understand soon enough,” he said cryptically, his words slipping into a language you couldn’t place. The sound of it was almost hypnotic, a strange rhythm that made your head swim and your body feel weightless.

You stumbled back a step, gripping the counter for support, your eyes unfocused. The world around you felt hollow, distant, as his voice echoed in your mind.

“Don’t worry,” Singed said, his tone almost mocking. “I’ll find you again. When the time is right.”

And just like that, he was gone, slipping back into the shadows as if he had never been there at all. You stood there for a moment, your breath shallow, your mind racing with questions you couldn’t answer.

The lair was dimly lit, the hum of machinery in the background blending with the occasional clink of metal tools on the workbench. You sat on a battered old chair in the corner, your hands clasped tightly, your elbows resting on your knees. It had been hours since you’d spoken. Since you’d even moved.

Your reflection in a nearby cracked mirror caught your eye. You barely recognized yourself. The sharp confidence you once carried felt dulled, replaced by something hollow, something unfamiliar.

His voice. That name.

“Spark.”

The word echoed in your mind like a haunting melody. It wasn’t just the name—it was the way he said it, the power it held over you. Your fingers twitched as you recalled how your body had responded against your will. A primal reaction you couldn’t control, one that made your stomach churn with disgust.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” you muttered under your breath, your voice hoarse.

Jinx’s light steps barely registered until she plopped down on the floor beside you, cross-legged and watching you closely. Her usual manic energy was subdued, replaced by something softer, more curious.

“Alright, what’s eating you, Big Shot?” she asked, tilting her head. “You’ve been sitting there looking like someone stole your favorite gun.”

You glanced at her, your jaw tightening. You wanted to brush it off, but the weight of the encounter was too much to carry alone.

“Do you know someone named Singed?” you asked, your voice low and strained.

Her expression shifted immediately, her playful smirk vanishing. “Yeah… I know him. He worked with Silco back in the day. Creepy guy. Always muttering, always experimenting. Why?”

You took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly. “I ran into him earlier. He… he called me by that name, Jinx. A voice I haven’t heard since I was a kid.”

“What name?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Spark,” you whispered, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. “And when he said it… it was like… like I wasn’t in control anymore. Like I had to listen.”

Jinx’s expression darkened. “What do you mean ‘had to listen’?”

You shook your head, struggling to find the words. “It was like I wasn’t myself. My body just… responded. I felt feral, like there was something buried in me that he was pulling out. I wanted to fight it, but I couldn’t. I felt… hopeless. Submissive.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Jinx’s fingers tapped against her knee, her gaze fixed on you but distant, as if she were piecing things together.

“I don’t like this,” she finally said. “I don’t like any of this.”

“Neither do I,” you admitted, your voice cracking. “I need help, Jinx. I need to figure out what’s happening to me, why I reacted like that. And I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

Jinx hesitated, biting her lip. You could see the conflict in her eyes. She hated the idea of you being vulnerable, hated the thought of you needing anyone but her. But she wasn’t blind to the truth.

“You’re saying this is bigger than the Undercity,” she said quietly.

You nodded. “I think it is.”

She ran a hand through her hair, groaning in frustration. “I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but… you’re right. If Singed is messing with you, and he’s tied to whatever happened to you as a kid, we need someone who knows how to deal with him. Someone with resources.”

Your heart sank as you caught on to where she was going. “Jinx—”

“It has to be Caitlyn,” she interrupted, her tone firm despite the reluctance in her eyes. “She’s the only one who can help you figure this out. I hate it, but if it’s between that and losing you to whatever freaky science Singed is pulling, then I’ll deal with it.”

You looked at her, surprised by the resolve in her voice. Her loyalty was fierce, but this level of sacrifice was new, even for her.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, searching her face.

“No,” she admitted with a wry smile, “but I’m sure about you. If Caitlyn’s what it takes to keep you safe, then fine. But I’m not gonna let her take you without a fight. Got it?”

You couldn’t help but smile, the weight on your chest lifting slightly. “Got it.”

She reached over, taking your hand in hers. “We’ll figure this out. I don’t care how many towers we have to burn down. You’re not going through this alone.”

Her words settled deep in your heart, and for the first time since the encounter with Singed, you felt a flicker of hope.

Caitlyn’s quarters were dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the room. It was eerily quiet, save for the occasional sound of her shuffling papers or the creak of her chair. You stood in the shadows, watching her as she slumped at her desk, her head resting in her hands.

Her once pristine space was unrecognizable. Papers were scattered everywhere, drawers left half-open, and an empty teacup sat forgotten on the edge of the desk. She exhaled deeply, her body trembling as she fought back tears. But eventually, the dam broke.

“I hate this,” she whispered to the empty room, her voice shaky. “I hate how much I care. How much I miss you. And you’re probably out there hating me after everything I did to you.”

You shifted in the shadows, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“I trusted you. I loved you. Still love you, even though I shouldn’t.” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her hands to her face. “Even if you don’t love me back… I can’t stop. I can’t let go of you.”

You clenched your fists, emotions swirling inside you. You felt deeply for Caitlyn, more than you were ready to admit, but now wasn’t the time to explore those feelings. There was too much at stake, too many questions that needed answers.

Still, seeing her like this broke something in you.

Leaning against the doorframe, you spoke lightly, trying to mask the weight in your chest. “You know, your security’s terrible. Anyone could just waltz in here.”

Caitlyn froze, her tear-streaked face snapping toward the sound of your voice. Her wide, disbelieving eyes found you as you stepped forward, your lips quirking in a teasing smile.

“Hello, Commander,” you said softly, the playfulness in your tone betraying the tension in your heart.

She didn’t hesitate. Caitlyn launched herself out of her chair, her boots thudding against the floor as she closed the distance between you. You barely managed to catch her as she threw her arms around your neck, pulling you into a desperate embrace.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice muffled against your shoulder. Then, louder, as if saying it would make it real: “You’re here!”

Her hands found your face, her thumbs brushing against your jaw as she held you at arm’s length to look at you. Her fingers were trembling, her breath hitching. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I… I’m so sorry. For everything. For hurting you. For not trusting you. I’ve missed you so much.”

You let her hold your face, her warmth grounding you in the moment. “I’m here now,” you said softly, your hands resting on her waist. “But I need your help, Cait. I really need your help.”

She blinked, her tears slowing as she searched your face. “Anything,” she said quickly. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it. Just tell me.”

You stepped back, reluctantly breaking her hold, and removed your coat. Then, with a steadying breath, you lifted your shirt over your head, exposing the tattoos that snaked across your torso.

Her eyes widened, her gaze tracing the intricate lines and symbols etched into your skin. She reached out instinctively, her fingers hovering over one of the symbols near your ribs.

“These…” she whispered. “You’ve never explained them to me before.”

“They’re a map,” you said, your voice low. “My so-called family gave them to me when I was a child. I didn’t understand what they meant back then, but… Singed does. He called me by a name, Caitlyn. ‘Spark.’ And when he said it, I wasn’t… myself anymore.”

Her fingers brushed against one of the symbols, and you shivered at the contact. “He did something to you?” she asked, her voice tinged with anger.

You nodded. “I don’t know how or why, but it’s like… he has some kind of control over me. I need to understand what these tattoos mean, what he’s after. And I need you to help me find out.”

Caitlyn’s eyes softened as she looked up at you, her hands still tracing the lines of your tattoos. “We’ll figure it out,” she said firmly. “I’ll do everything I can to get you through this. You’re not alone.”

She pulled you into a hug, her arms wrapping tightly around you. For a moment, you let yourself sink into her embrace, her warmth chasing away the lingering cold left by Singed’s voice.

You held her close, your cheek resting against her hair. “Thank you, Cait.”

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at you, her blue eyes filled with determination. “Whatever it takes,” she promised.

You nodded, a small flicker of hope igniting in your chest. For the first time in days, you felt like you had a chance to take control of your fate.

The dim glow of the desk lamp illuminated the worn records of Silco’s operations scattered before you. You sat hunched over, elbows propped on the table, flipping through the faded pages. Caitlyn had been quiet for some time now, seated across the room with her own stack of documents, but you felt her gaze lingering.

You glanced up, catching her staring. She didn’t look away.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, leaning back in your chair, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at your lips.

Caitlyn blinked as if pulled from a trance. “No, I just…” She trailed off, setting her papers down and folding her hands in her lap. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “You’ve changed me.”

Her words caught you off guard. You tilted your head, waiting for her to elaborate.

“I mean, the way I see the world,” she continued, her voice soft but steady. “I used to think everything was so black and white. Good and bad. Piltover and the Undercity. But you… you made me see the shades of gray. The hope. The humanity I ignored in the people I was supposed to protect.”

Her blue eyes softened as they met yours, and something in her expression made your chest tighten. You tried to brush it off, turning your attention back to the records in front of you, but her voice drew you in again.

“You gave me hope,” she admitted. “You made me believe things could be better, even when I was at my lowest.”

You were about to respond when you realized she wasn’t across from you anymore. Somehow, she was beside you, her presence warm and steady. Her fingers brushed against your arm, and your breath hitched.

You cleared your throat, trying to break the moment. “Cait, I…” you hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I’m seeing Jinx. And… I have feelings for her.”

Caitlyn froze for a second, then nodded, her expression unreadable. “I know,” she said quietly. “And I understand. I’m not trying to come between you two.” She looked down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting slightly. “But I need you to know how I feel. How much you mean to me.”

Her voice wavered, and before you could react, her hands were on your face, her touch gentle but firm. You froze, your heart pounding as her gaze locked with yours.

“Cait…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Stay on task,” you added quickly, trying to redirect the moment. “We need to focus on what Singed is planning.”

Caitlyn sighed, her hands falling away as she pulled back slightly. “You’re right,” she said, though her eyes lingered on you a moment longer. Then, as if something clicked, her gaze sharpened, and she leaned closer again, her eyes catching on the faint symbol etched onto the side of your neck.

“What’s this?” she asked, her fingers brushing lightly over the mark.

You frowned. “It’s part of the map. Why?”

Caitlyn stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she crossed the room. She rifled through a stack of papers, muttering to herself until she pulled out a crumpled sheet. Her eyes darted between the paper and your neck, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“This symbol,” she said, holding the paper up for you to see. “It’s tied to Hextech. There’s someone who might be able to help us. They’ve worked on experimental tech, mapping neural pathways, and… well, they might know how to decipher this.”

You stared at the paper, the symbol on it eerily similar to the one on your skin. Your fingers brushed over the mark on your neck as unease and curiosity warred within you.

“Who are we talking about?” you asked, your voice steady despite the knot forming in your stomach.

Caitlyn looked at you, her resolve clear. “Heimerdinger,” she said. “If anyone can help us, it’s him.”

The faint, persistent hum of that voice had been tormenting you all evening, like a needle threading through the fabric of your thoughts. You tried to ignore it, to push it back where it belonged, but its grip only tightened.

The teacup slipped from your trembling hands and shattered against the floor, porcelain shards scattering like stars across the wooden boards. Your knees buckled, your hands flying to your head as a scream tore loose from your throat—a sound that was raw, primal, and animalistic.

Your vision spun, flashes of fragmented memories—or perhaps illusions—assaulting you. Faces you didn’t recognize, voices layered over each other in chaos, the faint glow of a strange symbol seared into your mind. And the voice. That commanding, icy voice calling you by a name you hadn’t heard in decades.

“Spark,” it whispered. It echoed, again and again, rattling inside your skull.

“Y/n!” Caitlyn’s voice cut through the haze. Her footsteps were quick as she rushed to your side, dropping to her knees beside you. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

You couldn’t answer her. You couldn’t see her. Your eyes were wide, flickering between their natural gray and an unnatural, glowing purple. Caitlyn froze, her hands hesitating in midair as your gaze snapped toward her.

Her breath caught. “Your eyes…” she whispered, fear lacing her voice.

Your breath was ragged, shallow, as if something deep and primal was clawing to the surface. The world blurred, your senses heightening in unnatural ways—every sound sharp, every scent piercing. You were becoming something unrecognizable, something feral.

Through sheer will, you found a sliver of control. With trembling hands, you fumbled into your pocket and pulled out the emergency flare Jinx had given you. Your hands shook as you thrust it toward Caitlyn, your voice a low, broken rasp.

“Go,” you managed.

She stared at you, stunned for a moment, before the severity of the situation sank in. Without hesitation, Caitlyn grabbed the flare and sprinted to the nearest rooftop. The night swallowed her footsteps, and moments later, a sharp hiss filled the air as the flare ignited.

The smoke rose thick and red, a stark beacon against the starless sky.

->

Jinx sat at her workbench, goggles perched on her forehead as she tinkered with a delicate trinket. She worked with an uncharacteristic focus, her tools clicking against the small device. A faint smirk played on her lips as she muttered to herself, occasionally shooting Isha a glance.

Isha sat nearby, her small frame rigid and tense, her wide eyes darting between Jinx and the object in her hands. The girl’s expression said everything: curiosity, apprehension, and admiration, all swirling together.

Jinx noticed the look and wagged her finger, a teasing grin curling her lips. “This little beauty? It’s not gonna bite, kid. Unless I screw up. Then…well…” She mimicked an explosion with her hands, laughing as Isha’s eyes widened further.

Isha’s head snapped up, though, her gaze fixed on the window. Her lips parted slightly, her brows knitting together in concern.

“What is it, gremlin?” Jinx asked, not bothering to look up. “I swear if it’s another—”

Her voice died as her eyes followed Isha’s line of sight. The flare burned bright in the sky, its red smoke twisting like a serpent against the black.

Jinx froze. The world seemed to stop around her. Her breathing quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. Without a word, she sprang to her feet, her stool clattering to the ground.

Her workbench became a blur of movement as she scrambled to grab her weapons, tools, and anything she might need. Every motion was frantic, precise, desperate.

Sevika was making her way to Jinx’s lair when the chaos hit. The red smoke was unmistakable, its ominous glow visible even through the smog of the Undercity. She turned the corner just as Jinx barreled into her, nearly knocking them both over.

“What the hell—” Sevika began, but Jinx’s hand gripped her collar before she could finish.

“It’s Spark,” Jinx blurted, her voice unsteady, her eyes wide and wild. She didn’t need to explain further; the desperation in her tone said it all.

Sevika hesitated for only a heartbeat before she nodded. Her hand moved instinctively to her weapon, her expression hardening.

“Let’s go,” she said, and the two of them took off toward the flare, their footsteps echoing through the labyrinth of the Undercity. Neither of them spoke, their shared urgency driving them forward into the unknown.

<-

The room felt impossibly small as you clawed at your mind for control. Your breaths were shallow and ragged, each inhale jagged like broken glass scraping your lungs. The voices—taunting, commanding, relentless—coiled around your thoughts like venomous snakes.

The table in front of you cracked under your tightening grip. Your strength betrayed you as it splintered and gave way, collapsing in two with a deafening crash. Your hoarse scream tore through the room, raw and primal, echoing against the walls.

You stumbled to your feet, your body swaying like a marionette with severed strings, and found your way to Caitlyn’s bathroom. The tile felt icy under your bare feet, but you didn’t notice. Your trembling fingers twisted the faucet handle, and steaming hot water roared from the showerhead. Without hesitation, you stepped under the cascade, letting the searing heat soak into your skin.

The world blurred as the water streamed over you. Memories began to rise, vivid and haunting, like waves crashing against the walls of your mind.

You were small again, no more than a child. The bridge stretched before you, cracked and broken, its foundation trembling with each explosion that rocked the air. Smoke choked the sky, and screams pierced your ears.

A man knelt in front of you, his face obscured by the haze, his voice calm despite the chaos around you.

“Sparky,” he said, his hands cupping your tear-streaked cheeks. His tone was warm, protective, but tinged with desperation. “Listen to me. You’re strong. Stronger than you think. But you have to go. Run.”

“I don’t want to leave you!” you cried, clutching at his arms.

He smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll find you. I promise. I love you, kid. Never forget that.”

Another explosion roared behind him, the shockwave forcing him to let you go. His body shielded you from the debris, but the force sent you stumbling backward.

“Go!” he shouted, his voice nearly drowned out by the chaos.

You turned and ran, your legs heavy with fear. The bridge groaned beneath your feet as more explosions rattled its structure. Then, the sound of splintering metal tore through the air, and the ground vanished beneath you.

You screamed as you fell, the world spinning into a blur of smoke and sky. The man’s distant cry of anguish echoed after you.

The memory collided with the present as your scream ripped from your throat once again. You stumbled back against the shower wall, the water now unbearably hot, but you didn’t care. Your hands gripped your head, nails digging into your scalp as you slid down to the floor of the shower.

Jinx burst into Caitlyn’s residence, her face flushed with urgency. Her mismatched eyes darted around until they locked onto Caitlyn, who had already armed herself and was braced for confrontation.

For a moment, the air between them was thick with tension. Caitlyn’s sharp gaze met Jinx’s defiant one, both women silently acknowledging what neither wanted to say aloud: they both loved you, and they both knew it.

Jinx clenched her fists but broke the silence first. “She’s in trouble. You know it, and so do I.” Her voice was steady, but there was a crack in her tone, a vulnerability she rarely allowed.

Caitlyn nodded reluctantly, her grip on her weapon loosening. “I know.”

Sevika, leaning against the wall, smirked. “Well, isn’t this cozy? Two sides of a war teaming up over a girl. Feels like I’m stuck in a bad romance novel.”

Neither Jinx nor Caitlyn acknowledged her quip, but they both shot her sharp looks before heading down the hallway.

As they approached the bathroom, Caitlyn noticed the steam curling out from under the door. Her chest tightened.

“Stay behind me,” she said firmly, motioning for Jinx to wait.

But Jinx ignored her, shoving past and throwing the door open.

The sight that met them was chilling. You lay slumped in the shower, the hot water pouring relentlessly over your face and body. Your skin was pale, your lips parted as shallow breaths escaped you.

Jinx was the first to move, skidding to her knees beside you. “Hey! Come on, don’t do this to me now!” Her voice cracked as she shook your shoulders gently.

Caitlyn followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She crouched next to you, her hands trembling as she reached for your face. The heat of your skin against her palm was alarming.

Your eyes fluttered open, but they weren’t the gray she knew. They glowed an unnatural purple, their intensity sending a shiver down her spine.

“Y/n?” Caitlyn whispered, her voice barely audible.

You stared at her blankly, as if you didn’t recognize her. Then your lips parted, and a guttural growl escaped, low and feral.

Caitlyn turned to Jinx, her expression grave. “I need to detain her. For everyone’s safety.”

Jinx bristled, her hand already reaching for her pistol. “The hell you will!”

“She’s not herself!” Caitlyn snapped.

“Like I care!” Jinx yelled back, her voice breaking.

Sevika lingered in the doorway, her expression unreadable. “Oh, this is gonna end well,” she muttered under her breath.

The tension in the bathroom was suffocating, Jinx and Caitlyn standing inches apart, their heated argument escalating.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jinx hissed, her voice sharp. “She’s not some wild animal to be locked up in your tower like a damn trophy!”

“She’s a danger to everyone, Jinx!” Caitlyn fired back, her tone equally biting. “If we don’t control this, people will die. You can’t just ignore that because you—”

“Because I what?” Jinx interrupted, stepping closer, her mismatched eyes blazing. “Because I love her? Like you don’t?”

Sevika, leaning against the doorframe, let out a frustrated growl. She’d been watching you the entire time, noting the way your body tensed and twitched, your breath ragged, your purple eyes flickering faintly as if battling something unseen.

They didn’t notice the moment you stirred, your body beginning to rise from where you lay. Sevika did.

“Enough!” she barked, stepping forward just as you fully began to sit up, your glowing purple eyes locking onto the nearest target. With a single motion, Sevika’s mechanical fist slammed into your temple.

The metallic sound of the impact echoed in the room as you slumped forward, unconscious.

“What the hell, Sevika?!” Jinx shouted, rushing toward you.

Caitlyn froze, her face pale as she watched Sevika lower her arm, her expression dark.

Sevika turned on them, her voice sharp and unwavering. “You two were so busy fighting over who loves her more that you didn’t even notice she was about to tear both your throats out.” Her voice cracked slightly as she muttered, “And then Isha would be alone.”

Jinx’s mouth opened to argue, but nothing came out. Caitlyn lowered her gaze, guilt washing over her.

“You think this is a game?” Sevika snapped, her glare shifting between them. “You think any of this is about your feelings? It’s not. If she goes feral again, it won’t matter who she loves or who loves her back—none of us will make it out alive.”

Caitlyn stepped forward, composing herself. “We need to detain her. Somewhere safe.”

“Not the tower,” Jinx said immediately, her tone defensive.

Caitlyn frowned. “Jinx—”

“She’s not going there,” Jinx growled. “Ambessa’s there. You think I trust her anywhere near Spark?”

Caitlyn hesitated but relented with a nod. “Fine. Somewhere secluded.”

Sevika sighed heavily, bending down to lift your unconscious body over her shoulder like a sack of flour. “Let’s move. We’ll figure this out on the way.”

_________________

Well...

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

A Curse [Chapter 11: Westchester]

A/N: Only 1 chapter left 🪄

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent…at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon’s right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap situationship, illness/death/hospital stuff, a Targ family gathering!

Word count: 6.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

In the darkness of your nightscape bedroom—plumes of neon and incandescence floating beyond the window like man-made stars—you read Becca’s Instagram posts and blog entries about how brave Aegon has been in the wake of his diagnosis, and between the lines of course is her courage too: the caretaker, the self-sacrificial curator, the saintly hands his demise has been entrusted into, his long slow disintegration until only the bones are left, no memories, no dreams, no future and no past.

The last weeks of August float away like a balloon, carried high and quick into a sky that is dizzyingly hot and so bright it stings the eyes. On sidewalks, you hide under the shade of palm trees. On lunch dates with Chloe—running lines, trying perplexing new foods like escargot and sea urchin, giggling over celebrity gossip—you ask for tables inside or under the refuge of patio umbrellas. Each night in your apartment that Aegon now pays your half of the rent for, religiously deposited in your bank account by Brandon at a least one full week before it’s due, you lie in the bathtub reading the movie script or books on the Gilded Age until the water turns lukewarm and steam glistens on your skin; and into these infinitesimal black-ink worlds you disappear, a new name, a distant time, a different man who has stitched himself to you with dissolving threads.

Now you are in Chinatown with Aegon, and the ember-colored oscars are murderous and darting back and forth as he skims his fingers across the top of the tank, and you have devoured your moo goo gai pan but Aegon has barely touched his boneless spare ribs. His is listless and distracted. Strands of sandy blonde hair are falling out of their gel to rest across his forehead. There are dark shadows like smudges of ash under his eyes. Your own eyes are adorned with shimmering dusty rose powder to match your sundress, three shades blended together, all by Urban Decay: Liar, Stolen, Right Time.

“I really think you should see a doctor,” you tell Aegon, not for the first time.

“I might,” he says absently, still tormenting the oscars.

“It can only help at this point. They could confirm the diagnosis and get you on a treatment plan. I’ve been researching it and there are drugs that suppress tremors, and physical therapy, and antidepressants...and oh, these things called ‘dopamine agonists’ that are good for motor functions...and they even have Huntington’s support groups!”

Aegon sighs.

“If you make an appointment, I’ll go with you,” you say. “Any day, any time, I don’t care, I’ll go. I’ll reschedule whatever else I have on my calendar.” Workouts with your personal trainer, meetings with your dialect coach, calls with Dusty or Santi or anyone else from the film, outings with Chloe, a life that is growing abundant and bright like a full moon.

“Maybe.” Then Aegon studies his Chinese zodiac calendar, an attempt to change the subject. And you’ll let him; you don’t want to spend the time you have left arguing. “What year were you born?” he asks, as if you’ve never had this conversation before. “Which animals is yours?”

And instead of being offended, frustrated, startled, you just force a smile and hold up your hands in the shape of claws. “I’m a dragon, Aegon.”

He leans in close to read the description: You are eccentric and your life complex. You have a very passionate nature and abundant health. Then he laughs. “Oh yeah, of course you are. Sounds just like you.”

“And you’re a horse.”

“Do you like horses?”

“I like one,” you say, and Aegon grins and offers you a forkful of his boneless spare ribs, dripping viscous red sauce like bad blood.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Saturday, August 30th, and the wedding is exactly one week away. The Targaryens are throwing a bon voyage party for Aegon at their Malibu beach house, something planned a month in advance, although it has a certain somberness to it now. Alicent keeps dabbing at her large dark eyes with a green handkerchief, collecting herself, crumpling into tears again. Guests are murmuring gravely about their vague, archaic memories of Viserys: Saw him in a wheelchair a few times...then he just disappeared...never really asked...a Hollywood legend like that...wanted to respect his privacy...such a lovely family...how awful they’re going through this all over again.

Aegon has dispatched Becca to ready the new house in Houston, a project that she is posting about on Instagram with great frequency and euphoric triumph; she has been given a vital task. If she suspects his true motivations for wanting her two time zones and 1,500 miles away, she gives no indications of it. In Becca’s absence—and much to your own surprise—you are Aegon’s plus one on this hot, golden afternoon as salt-smelling wind blows in off the Pacific Ocean and children splash in the pool.

As your floral yellow sundress billows and the breeze tangles your hair, you smile and chat with the series of guests that Aegon introduces you to, distant relatives, industry people, the new agent he keeps trying to offload you onto, a bookish young woman named Kristen who is perfectly polite and surely very knowledgeable and yet not the one you want. Kristen didn’t agree to sign you when no one else would. Kristen didn’t put her knuckles into the wall of a Beverly Hills mansion for you.

Several of the party guests recognize you from the Maroon 5 music video and congratulate you on your starring role in your upcoming indie movie, which has just been publicly announced. Each time the conversation drifts towards Aegon—his misfortunate diagnosis, his exodus to Texas—he steers it back to you. He doesn’t want to talk about himself, of course, or his situation, or the fate that awaits him in Houston, and that’s part of it; but he’s also proud of you. He’s taking full advantage of one of his last chances to advocate for you. He’s going down swinging.

Now Aegon is eating hors d’oeuvres with his other recent clients, Steve, Fatima, and Angus, all of whom have found new agents with Aegon’s assistance, and you are sitting on the ledge of the swimming pool with the hem of your dress tucked under your thighs and your legs submerged to the knees. Helaena has children, which isn’t something Aegon ever mentioned before; there are four of them, wreaking havoc in the pool as they play volleyball with their friends, hurling a beach ball back and forth over a miniature net. You are keeping score for them and serving as the cheerleader, which is much preferrable to making small talk with self-important industry executives or listening to people sigh over how selfless Becca is for assuming this burden.

Aemond wanders over to you, dressed in his version of casual: a full suit, but beige instead of black or navy. He doesn’t say anything. He observes the kids playing for a while, though you have the sense he isn’t really seeing them. You peek covertly at the scar that cuts down the left side of his grim face, and you remember what Aegon told you about Viserys: He’s the reason my mother still has nightmares. He’s the reason Aemond lost his eye.

“You’ll watch out for him, right?” you say anxiously to Aemond. “Even when he’s in Texas?”

He gives you an impatient look, like you’re stupid for asking. “I’ll always make sure he’s taken care of. There’s nowhere he could run that would be far enough to keep me away.”

You are relieved. “Good.” You glance over at Aegon to check on him; he is still mingling with his former clients, and he seems happy. Then you find Alicent in the crowd. She is ever-encircled by Helaena and Daeron, who appear to be trying to distract her. The beach house is besieged by blue balloons. A DJ is playing artists that you recognize from Aegon’s extensive Spotify playlist: Alanis Morissette, Pearl Jam, Third Eye Blind, the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

“I really wish he’d see a doctor,” Aemond says after a while, his voice low to be discrete. “We have great specialists here at Cedars-Sinai.”

“He has an appointment on Wednesday morning. I finally got him to make one.”

Aemond stares down at you, mystified, suspicious. “Who are you?”

“What do you mean? I’m a client.”

“Yes, I know that,” Aemond says; again, like you might be a little slow. “Why do you always know what he’s up to? Why does he care what you think? He doesn’t care what anybody thinks.”

You aren’t sure how to answer. You avoid the question by lobbing away the beach ball when a child’s spike sends it hurtling at you.

“He talks about you a lot,” Aemond says. “He insists that you’re a good actress. He asks me to help you. And then he forgets that he asked, and he asks again.”

“I don’t know why he cares what I think.”

“Sure you don’t.” Aemond’s brow is furrowed and his eyes narrowed: one real, one eternally unseeing. “Are you going with him on Wednesday?”

“I am,” you admit.

“Give me your phone.”

You comply immediately, digging it out of your floral Patricia Nash purse. Aemond Targaryen is not an easy man to refuse. He types something quickly as he stands beside the pool. One of the children giggles as they swim up to the edge and splash him with chlorinated water, wetting his beige suit and brown leather Gucci shoes. Aemond sighs irritably.

“I put myself in as a contact,” Aemond says when he returns your phone. “After his appointment, call me and tell me everything the doctor said.”

“Okay.” Aegon probably wouldn’t approve of that, but it’s good for him.

Then Aemond does something unexpected. He reaches out to you, and for a second you instinctively flinch away, but his hand is gentle; Aemond’s palm settles on the back of your neck, and you blink up at him, bewildered. “I’m sorry you’re losing him too,” Aemond says, soft and strangely tender. Then he swipes something off his right cheek and leaves, weaving through the crowd to join his mother, who is pretending to fret over a rapidly melting ice sculpture—a Texas Longhorn—so she won’t have to think about Aegon instead.

A child is tugging at you, grappling for your hand with slippery, dripping fingers and then trying to drag you into the pool. “Come swimming!” a little girl, maybe eight or nine years old, is crowing with a missing-baby-teeth grin. “We’re going to play Marco Polo. You can be the person who shouts Marco! and tries to find us.”

You laugh. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have a swimsuit. I didn’t know this was a pool party.” Aegon neglected to mention that part.

“Please?” she begs, and now the other children are joining in, a chorus of reckless encouragement. You have the impression they aren’t often able to cajole the adults into playing with them. And the little girl looks so much like Aegon—same eyes, same hair—that you find yourself thinking: When he’s gone, will there really be nothing left of him? Is that possible?

“Alright, I’m coming in!” you announce, and the kids cheer. You shove your purse far enough away from the pool that your phone should be safe, and then you slide off the ledge and into the water: brisk blue currents that thrash as the children flee away from you, giggling as they hug the curved cement corners, poised to bolt again if you venture towards them.

“Now close your eyes,” the little girl demands, and you cover them with your palms. You feel her shoving you and it takes you a few seconds to realize what she wants: for you to spin around. You do this as quickly as you can until you are completely disoriented, stumbling, blind, laughing as you reach out with your eyes squeezed shut, your yellow sundress flowing around you in the cool water like the fanlike fins of a koi fish.

“Marco,” you say.

“Polo!” the children yell, and then squeal as you lunge for them. Waves swell through the pool, water droplets from their kicking feet spray across your face. There’s sun on your bare shoulders as your legs traverse the rough concrete floor in slow motion, your steps heavy and silent. You can hear adults muttering in scandalized disapproval: Who is that? What’s wrong with her?

“Marco?” you call out again.

“Polo!” a gaggle of children hurl back, too many; the voices seem to come from everywhere. You can’t pinpoint a direction, so you choose one at random and dive.

“Marco!” you shout, then yelp as you bump into the side of the pool and stun yourself.

Someone grabs your outstretched hands. “Polo,” Aegon says, and you open your eyes to see him kneeling at the edge of the water. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks, but he’s smiling; he helps you scramble back up onto the ledge of the pool.

“They wanted me to play with them.”

“You could have said no.”

“I can never say no to kids. They walk all over me.”

“You’re too nice.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Though it doesn’t sound so much like a criticism when Aegon says it. He sits down beside you on the ledge of the pool and lets his legs dangle in the water; he has kicked off his flip-flops to rest haphazardly beside your tan wedges. He is wearing white cargo shorts and a powder blue short-sleeve Oxford that is at least a size too big for him. He’s losing weight, you think, forlorn. He’s disappearing.

Helaena arrives with a towel—very thick and soft, doubtlessly expensive—and gives it to you. She is one of the few party guests who do not seem horrified by your antics; instead, she titters and tells the children not to entrap you again, that you’ll play with them later. They resume their game of Marco Polo with a new blind explorer. As you wrap the towel around your shoulders, Aegon takes a corner and uses it to dry your face. Then he gazes out over the patio towards the Pacific Ocean, ignoring the children. He never really interacts with kids, you’ve noticed; even when he watches them with a transfixed sort of wonder, he keeps an expanse of space between them like an alcoholic trying to stay away from the drink.

“You could have done IVF,” you say, and Aegon looks at you, eyebrows raised, a how did you know what I was thinking? sort of expression. “They can screen the embryos for chromosomal defects and only implant the ones that are healthy. So you’d know the baby wouldn’t have Huntington’s.”

Aegon shrugs, kicking his feet beneath the rippling crystalline line of the water. “I think that takes a lot of trust, you know?”

You aren’t sure what he means. “To do IVF?”

“To leave a kid with someone,” he clarifies. “If I’m going to be out of the picture in a few years, I’d have to feel really confident that the mother would be the kind of person I’d trust to raise the child the right way. Not use them as a prop or something. Not raise them to be fucked up like I am.” Or like Becca is, he leaves unsaid.

And although it is ludicrous and forbidden and impossible, instantly you are doing math in your head: I’ll be done filming by winter, we could start trying in the spring. You always envisioned doing it the other way around, chasing dreams in your twenties, settling down in your thirties, but if Aegon doesn’t have much time left...

You turn to him, searching. But Aegon is in his own world, oblivious to your uninvited machinations. Of course he wouldn’t expect any discussions of the two of you staying together. You’ve already offered. He’s already declined. Now the song on the stereo is Keith Urban’s You’ll Think Of Me, and Aegon’s oceanic blue eyes begin to glisten. Everyone is crying today, you think.

“This was your dad’s favorite song,” you say gently.

Aegon nods. “Did I tell you that?”

“You did.”

He chuckles bleakly. “Fuck, I don’t even remember.” He wipes his eyes with the heel of one hand, and you wish you could touch him; but everyone at this party knows he’s getting married in a week, and to a woman who definitely isn’t you. “When I was really young, my dad was always telling us: You are Targaryens. You have to be extraordinary. You have to be extraordinary. And to me, that meant inhuman, or unnatural, or something else that I would always be incapable of. What about the real people? What about all the people like me, we were just supposed to vanish into cubicles somewhere, or hate ourselves enough to change our bodies, our faces, our souls? No, I couldn’t stomach that. Then my dad got sick, and for the first time he tried to understand us, and we had a few good years. Then he was gone again. But it was so goddamn slow.”

You are desperate to touch him, to console him. “Just because Viserys became a monster doesn’t mean you will. Just because he was a curse to your family doesn’t mean that’s how I’d feel about you.”

Aegon swipes at his eyes again, then brightens. He pretends he hasn’t heard you. “You’re coming to the wedding, right? I told Brando to send you money for the plane ticket.”

You spent it on eyeshadow palettes and books about the Gilded Age. “I don’t think so.”

“I really want you to be there.”

“You want me to watch you standing at the end of the aisle, and then Becca frolicking to meet you in her perfect Instagram-worthy dress, and then you exchanging adorable vows and kissing while people whistle and applaud, and then I’ll endure a whole night of celebrating your wedded bliss on the beach, all so you can get a glimpse of me in the crowd and maybe talk to me for five minutes before I fly back here alone, devastated that I’ll never get to see you again?”

“Yeah,” Aegon says.

“That’s an insane idea.”

Aegon throws his arms wide, exasperated. “It might be! I have a brain disease!”

“And why would I do that?” you demand. “Because I’m so happy for you and Becca?”

“No, because I’m doing you a favor,” he hisses, sudden hushed vitriol. “Because I am sparing you from everything that will happen next.”

I want to be there. I want it to be me. You shake your head, your throat burning. “I can’t watch you marry her.”

“Okay,” Aegon relents. “It’s fine. Sunshine, it’s fine. I don’t want to fight with you.” What he means is: I don’t want to waste the time we have left.

And for a moment he rests his head on your shoulder—your pulse thudding hot and red and feverish, pool water dripping from your hair—not caring who sees.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t want to be here,” he says.

“I know, Aegon.” The exam room at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Beverly Hills is sunlit but cold, curtains drawn back from the glass walls, frigid air conditioning gusting through the vents. Your eyeshadow is a dark blue to match your sundress: Equilibrium by Natasha Denona, Madness by Urban Decay. You take Aegon’s hand and hold it tightly. He is perched restlessly on the edge of the exam table; you are standing beside him, too anxious to sit in the requisite chair for a spouse or a parent, and of course you are neither of these things.

The doctor returns, knocking politely before opening the door. He closes it behind him as he enters the room. He’s in his early-fifties, pudgy, receding reddish hair and pale skin that has been turned pink by too much time spent in the sun. He is a family man—he’s already mentioned his wife and kids several times, you imagine the desk in his office must be adorned with their ever-smiling photographs—and an unassuming, slightly nervous disposition. He’s one of the best neurologists on the West Coast. When he heard Aegon’s last name, he fit him in immediately.

Dr. Gallagher turns the computer screen towards you and brings up images from the MRI scan. He takes his pen out of the pocket of his white coat and uses it to point at the bluish specter of Aegon’s brain. His voice is soothing, sympathetic, practiced in delivering bad news. “Unfortunately, what we’re seeing here is consistent with what I would expect to find in a patient with Huntington’s disease that has progressed to the moderate stage.” His pen leaps between pertinent locations. “There is already some striatal atrophy visible, and slight frontal horn dilatation as the brain matter around it shrinks. A lot of the time, we can’t even see that on scans in people who’ve been recently diagnosed. But you...” He looks at Aegon, gives him a soft subtle nod, casual catastrophic confirmation. “You’ve had symptoms for a while, as we discussed.”

“Yeah,” Aegon says quietly. You’re still clasping his hand, like he’ll vanish if you let go.

“I’m very sorry,” Dr. Gallagher tells him.

“Not your fault, doc.”

“But there is some good news,” Dr. Gallagher says. “Now that you’re in treatment, we can get you set up with a regimen that will alleviate your symptoms as much as possible. There are prescriptions—and I’ll go over each of those with you, so you understand what they are and the possible side effects—and also excellent therapists who have experience working with patients like you, Aegon. We want to keep your quality of life intact for as long as we possibly can.”

“I’m moving to Houston,” Aegon replies, and for some reason every time he says this you feel the loss of it all over again, as if you don’t already know, as if he’s not almost gone.

“Texas, huh?” Dr. Gallagher says, like he doesn’t understand why anyone would want to spend their final years there but is determined not to be judgmental about it. “Well, best wishes to you! I have some very capable colleagues at Houston Methodist, I’ll reach out to them and transfer your records over so you won’t have to worry about any of that once you get settled in.”

“Thank you,” Aegon says, quiet, distant. Dr. Gallagher glances at you curiously; he keeps doing that. Aegon didn’t introduce you. You didn’t introduce yourself. What are you supposed to say? You aren’t his wife. You aren’t even his fiancée or his girlfriend. You’re a mistress, and soon you’ll be nobody. Better to let the gaps remain unfilled. “How long?” Aegon asks after a while. “I mean, I know it can be unpredictable, but...”

Dr. Gallagher sighs and contemplates the MRI results again. “It really is impossible to say for sure. You said your father passed away at fifty-five?”

Aegon nods. “Ten years after he was diagnosed. And he must have gotten it from his dad. My grandmother lived to be really old and was healthy up until the last few months, but my grandfather died in a car accident, and that would have been before any symptoms were obvious.”

Dr. Gallagher considers this. “So we have multiple generations of the gene being passed down patrilineally, which does exacerbate anticipation. And with these MRI results and the symptoms you’re already experiencing...memory loss, involuntary movements, difficulty working and driving, problems with sleep, loss of appetite...” He shrugs, an acknowledgement of fate’s unknowable design. Then he looks at Aegon with eyes that are deeply apologetic. “I do suspect it will be relatively quick. You’ll probably have another year or two that are decent. And then...”

“And then,” Aegon echoes bitterly, not a question but an agreement. No one knows this better than he does.

“I think you’ll see forty.” Dr. Gallagher steals another glimpse of the MRI results. “But not much beyond that.”

“Okay,” Aegon says, trying to be stoic. And then, gingerly but very deliberately, he untangles his hand from yours.

At an In-N-Out Burger down the street, Aegon pays in cash, a habit he got into not just so Becca can’t track where he is; it’s so that if she asks where he’s been and he can’t remember, she won’t think he’s purposefully lying when he tells her the wrong places. You sit together in a quiet corner booth slurping your Cherry Cokes and picking at your burgers and Animal-Style fries, the silence both heavy and weak, anemic, listless, immovable. Aegon is typing around on his phone. You are trying to imagine what the world will feel like without him in it.

“Forty is good,” Aegon says abruptly. “You know, Becca will still be in her thirties. She’ll definitely be able to marry some other guy and have kids.”

“Aegon,” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“I wouldn’t want to waste away for a long time anyway. I hope I don’t make it past forty.”

“Aegon,” you plead. “The doctor said you could have a few good years left, so shouldn’t you spend those here with your family?” And with me?

Aegon stands up and slides his iPhone into the pocket of his shorts. “My Uber is outside.”

“Your what?” You are alarmed. “I can drive you back to your office, it’s not that out of the way for me—”

“No, I should go.” He gathers up his barely-touched food and stuffs it in a trashcan.

“Aegon...”

“I’ve been really selfish,” he says hurriedly, like if he doesn’t get it out now he might not ever. “I’ve been holding on to you because you make me feel better, and because I didn’t want it to be over, but I...now I have to do the right thing. And this is definitely the right thing.”

“You don’t have to go yet—”

“You’ll be taken care of,” Aegon says. “The people working on your movie...they’re legit. They’re trustworthy. And you can always call Brando or Aemond, they know they’re supposed to take care of you, they’ll get you anything you need, money, a place to live, help navigating the industry, whatever. And Kristen will be your new agent.”

“I don’t want another agent.”

“I set you up as well as I possibly could have,” Aegon tells you, curt, clinical. “And now it’s September, and I’m leaving Los Angeles. That was the deal. I never promised you more than that. I explicitly warned you there would never be more than that.”

“But...” But I didn’t love you then.

“Don’t make this any harder. Say goodbye and move on.”

“Goodbye, Aegon,” you reply, unconvincingly, not meaning it. But it must be enough; he walks out of the In-N-Out Burger, and through the clear glass of the windows you watch him climb into a stranger’s car, and you think numbly, because it seems so impossible: I’ll never see him again?

You stay in the booth for a long time, sipping your Cherry Coke as tears well up in your eyes and spill over, ceaseless rivulets you dab away with napkins that your eyeshadow turns from pure white to a smudged watery blue. Then when you leave and start your shimmering gold Honda Accord, you call Aemond. He listens intently, asks a number of highly technical medical questions you can’t answer, and gets impatient. You apologize, your voice breaking. Aemond sighs, says he’s sorry, tells you with a strangled tension in his own words that he has to go and will call back in a few days to check on you. You’re his new pet, after all; Aegon has assigned you to a different Targaryen, a new agent, a life still orbiting his gravity even in his absence.

At home, your apartment is empty. Jace is at one of his PhD classes. You don’t turn the tv on, you don’t listen to any music. You lie down on the living room couch as afternoon light slants in through the windows and the muffled sounds of Harbor Gateway bleed in through the walls: car horns, shrieking sirens, pedestrians’ shouts, revving engines, stereos and their rumbling bass beats. You can’t stand this, the knowledge that life continues on uninterrupted for everyone else. Becca will get to keep Aegon for years. His family can fly east to Houston to visit him. He is only dead to you.

You pick up your phone and call him. Aegon answers after a few rings; he is startled, like he hadn’t expected to ever hear from you again, like something bad must have happened: your car broke down and you’re stranded on the side of the freeway, you got heat sickness and are trapped in a store somewhere. He says: “Hey, are you alright?”

“I miss you so much and you’re not even gone yet.”

There’s a pause that feels much longer than it is. “Are you at home?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a quivering whisper.

“Okay,” Aegon says, gentle, warm, like you’re friends again and always will be. Due north in his office in Elysian Park where there is no more work left to be done, you can hear his chair scrape against the scuffed hardwood floor as he pushes it out from his desk. “I’ll be there in about a half hour.”

“Okay. Bye.” You hang up, mop the tears from your face, and begin getting ready.

When Aegon knocks, you answer the door in your pajamas, no illusions of propriety: just a L.A. Dodgers t-shirt, black sweatpants, and nothing underneath. Aegon does not pretend to be any more noble. He is through the doorway—swiftly, soundlessly, like a shadow—and then he’s here in the sunlit living room lifting away your shirt and kissing you, deep and wordless, as you stumble together towards your bedroom, you staggering out of your sweatpants as he yanks them down to the floor, you fumbling with the buttons of his green short-sleeve Oxford shirt, and you wonder: Did Becca fasten these buttons this morning? Is that why he didn’t miss one?

“Oh, thank God,” Aegon sighs when he knows he’ll be able to do it, that his body is not yet a stranger to him entirely, and as you sink into the mattress his weight settles on top of you, opening you, filling you, not disappeared yet, not long-lost like a childhood dream that turns to cynicism, only warm and sweet and real. And just like the times before, when you believe you won’t be able to finish with him, you’re wrong. Your eyes brim with tears, like Aegon knows happens when it’s good, and as he whisks them away he murmurs: “Find somebody who does this for you.”

“There’s no one else.”

“Find somebody you love.”

“I love you, Aegon.”

“You can’t, you can’t,” he moans, like he knows it’s hopeless, like he’s already lost the same war.

Not just once, but twice, and then you are exhausted—your muscles unraveled from your bones, your resistance crumbling like eons-old earth—and the world is quiet and fading, used condoms in the trashcan beside your nightstand, the sheets damp with sweat, and you’ll never have him like this again. You’ll never have anything like this again. Daylight, weakening from yellow to gold to amber to blood, pours in through the window and cascades across your bed.

“Remember me like this, okay?” Aegon whispers, kissing you one last time: lips, forehead, the apple of your cheek. “Now look away.”

You turn to the window where sunlight beckons, leaving him in darkness. You hear the bedroom door click shut as he leaves.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Saturday, September 6th, the wedding day. You have nothing planned. This is a mistake, although it isn’t exactly your fault; filming starts on Monday so everyone has this weekend off as one last respite, Chloe’s parents are in town for a visit, Baela is wrapping up the new Yorgos Lanthimos movie in Paris. You wake up ridiculously early, groggy and miserable. You wander aimlessly around the apartment. You glower at the red-ink note in the box on the calendar: Aegon’s wedding. You stare at the vase of dried sunflowers and feel like crying.

You open Instagram and scroll blindly; the blue-white glow hurts your bloodshot eyes. Becca has posted numerous stories in the past twenty-four hours, which is typical: Pinterest-worthy plates of food, teasing glimpses of her dress and shoes, selfies with her friends and family. There is a wheezing Pekingese in the background of one of her videos from the luxurious hotel suite, and you think, rather disparagingly: She flew her dogs to the Caribbean?

What’s not-so-typical is that Aegon has posted an Instagram story too, something he doesn’t do often. After several minutes of deliberation, and against your better judgment, you click on superstargaryen’s story. It’s 4 a.m. here, so 7 a.m. on Turks and Caicos. The sun has already risen there. And Aegon’s story is a simple photo of the sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean, as if taken from a balcony. There is no caption and no frivolous emojis: a ring, a bouquet, toasting champagne glasses, a cartoonish yellow couple. Instead, there is only a song added, a fifteen-second snippet that plays on a loop each time you re-watch the story, which you do about ten times. The song is Hard To Concentrate by the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

And instantly, you are there again, the night after you shot the music video in Beverly Hills, the night after Aegon saved you: flying in his convertible southbound on the 110, streetlights and headlights and neon that cut through the indigo ink of the world, Aegon’s hair flying, his right hand on the steering wheel, bruises on his knuckles, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he keeps looking over at you, as if he’s feeling the same things you are: This is right, this is real, I want this forever.

I have to be there, you realize abruptly, like a lightning strike or the jolt of an earthquake. I have to try to change his mind.

You close Instagram, open Google, search for flights from LAX to Turks and Caicos. You find one with two seats left, both in First Class. My parents are going to kill me, you think, and then put them on your credit card. You get Jace’s full name and date of birth from the driver’s license in his wallet, which he left on the kitchen counter.

You go to Baela’s bedroom and shake Jace awake. He glares at you blearily from beneath chaotic dark curls. “What do you want?” he groans.

“Do you have a passport?”

“Yeah...?”

“I have to fly to Turks and Caicos.”

“What? Where...?”

“It’s for a wedding. I don’t want to go alone. Will you go with me?”

You wait for him to say no. Instead, Jace mulls it over and then drags himself upright, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Turks and Caicos...that’s in the Caribbean, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a long flight. When are you leaving?”

“In twenty minutes. I already called the Uber.”

Jace blinks a few times, then stands up. “Island vibes,” he mutters in a Jamaican accent as he shuffles off towards the bathroom.

You throw some essentials in a carry-on bag: toiletries, makeup, clothes, TOMS wedges. The only wedding-appropriate dress you have that’s clean is the electric yellow gown you wore to the Maroon 5 music video red carpet premiere. You yank it off the hanger and stuff it in your suitcase. Jace rolls his luggage into the living room just as the Uber is pulling up outside. You urge the driver to hurry as you glide northwest on the 405 towards Westchester, home to Los Angeles International Airport. It’s early enough that traffic is thin, and the lines are short at the TSA security checkpoint. Jace is momentarily stopped for further inspection; he accidentally left a vape pen in his pocket.

Will we make it there before the wedding starts?

At the gate, passengers are already lining up to board the plane. You check the time on your phone and do some quick math. It’s currently 5:30 a.m. here in California. If your flight leaves on time, you’ll be in the air at 6:00. Turks and Caicos is three hours ahead in Eastern Standard Time, so that would be 9:00 a.m. The flight is almost nine hours long, including a brief layover in Atlanta, which means—if everything goes perfectly—you’ll touch down at Providenciales International Airport shortly before 6:00 p.m. The wedding ceremony begins at 6:30, sunset on the beach, very romantic.

“It’s going to be close,” you tell Jace as he slurps on a venti-sized Lavender Crème Frappuccino from an airport Starbucks.

It’s going to be very close.

[asexualbookbird]

Ah, I read some books in 2024, huh? And eight rereads? Who am I. Tried a lot of new things this year which yay! Go me! Branching out! Not all of those were successes, but I did it and therefore no one can criticise me. But we all know what's important here. So here you go, THE BEST AND WORST OF 2024 (in no particular order)!

THE BEST BOOKS OF 2024

The Adventure of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty - yes, I am still thinking about this, thank you for asking! A full entire adult of a person, a mother even, going on adventures? Fighting and killing and fucking and living? Hell yeah! More of this, please! I would also love to see a prequel of Amina's adventures before the book timeline. Everything about this was so great, I look forward to rereading it.

The City We Became by NK Jemisin - I was wary about this because it was so polarizing to readers. On one hand, even my least favorite Jemisin was still fun, on the other hand, I know nothing about New York. HOWEVER. The audiobook was FABULOUS. I wholeheartedly believe the audio is why I enjoyed this so much. This was FUN this is what reading should feel like all the time.

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb -FRIEND TO MY SOUL. Again, beautiful audio performance. Beautiful story. I need my own copy so I can reread this to my hearts content. It's cute, it deals with heavy topics, it's gay, it's the friend to my soul.

WORST BOOKS OF 2024

The Novice by Taran Matharu - Ugh. Bought when released, knowing nothing, which seems to be a Theme with books sitting on my shelf I end up not enjoying. Learning about the history of this book made me more angry than the book itself. What do you mean his entire series was bought and published without an editor? It shows, but. Come on. Wattpad born and it shows.

Last Heir to Blackwood Library by Hester Fox- this was only for a summer reading bingo challenge, but come on. There are ways to pull the memory loss, or altered memory plot line and have it work. This did not do that. Wish a library would eat my memories of this book so I never had to think of it again.

Red Sister by Mark Lawrence - Mark Lawrence is one of those authors who writes long books because he thinks it makes him a Good Writer. Mark Lawrence is one of those writers who is afraid to write adult characters because he thinks they won't sell, but continuously puts them in adult situations to show how Hard their lives are and Isn't This Dark And Gritty And Sad without doing the work to actually get there. It toes the line between fantasy in scifi, but not well. It feels more indecisive than anything else.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Firebreak by Nicole Kornher-Stace -more like fireBROKE MY HEART!!!! It was on my tbr list for years, and I finally found a copy and I'm glad I own it so I can reread it at my leisure. It's what Ready Player One could have been if it was actually good.

Godkiller by Hannah Kaner - Okay honestly, this and City were fighting for a spot in the main top three. Either could be there. I do honorable mentions for this very reason. I was surprised to learn this was a tiktok book, because yknow. It's actually Good. Witcher vibes, but with more respect towards women. Why isn't book three in my possession right this second.

Someone You Can Build A Nest In by John Wiswell - I Am Normal About This Book. It was fun to read and annotate it for a friend. It was fun to be around as two friends read it and I loved seeing their reactions to it. Loved cheering on Shesheshen, still think she deserves to eat more people. Friends and I will still share biting goop memes with the caption "Shex3 posting". It's safe to say this has rewritten my brain.

DISHONORABLE MENTIONS

Legacy of Ash by Matthew Ward - I was hyped about this book before release. I bought book two before even reading this because I was that sure I'd enjoy it. What a fool. This did NOT have to be 800 pages. It was another example of someone writing many words because they think that's what Good Writers Do, and not stopping to think about what those words even SAY. Which, in this case, was ~Absolutely Nothing~

Ghost Station by SA Barnes - crying sobbing this book was so fucking stupid. Best thing to come out of it was seeing a friend read it and confirming that yes, it was That Fucking Stupid. Learning the author mainly writes YA Paranormal explained why everyone had Too Stupid To Live disease.

I'm Afraid You've Got Dragons by Peter S Beagle - Admittedly only here to make things even and because it's still pretty fresh in my mind. I was soooo excited when this was announced, and now I'm soooo happy I didn't preorder it. More boring than anything else, but I don't wish it was longer because it already felt Too Long.

Once again, ignored rereads because I feel like that's cheating somehow. Let these be for highlighting new and fun books I discovered! I feel like the last few Bricks I've read have been Very Bad so I hope a couple of the bricks I have planned for 2025 are actually good. Considering one of those is Labyrinth's Heart, I think we're okay.

[waihtie]

Watching and washing

Season 5 Episode 16 - Dark Side of the Moon

*wakes up to a gun in his face* *he's calm, but instantly checks on Sam*

○ "Wanna spend the rest of your life knowing Dean Winchester's on your ass? Because I don't." The power he holds. He's known. He's feared.

"When I come back, I'm gonna be pissed." Boy knows he can't stay dead.

Imagine having plot armour that thick

○ Aand they're both dead. RIP boys for my guess is not even a whole episode

We actually get to see them in heaven?!? I love it. Like so much.

○ "I'm dead" "Condolences" I love Cas more than literally anything

He can't visit heaven, so he's using a spell to speak to him through his car radio

○ Lmao Dean found Sam's heaven. There's a road connecting all the heavens.

Awee Sam understanding why Dean is in heaven, but not himself. This man's self-worth has been so low all season.

Also, interesting how Dean's heaven is a moment between him and Sam and Sam's is a time with another family. Each speak a lot to their characters.

○ Heaven is just people reliving their best memories

○ Zachariah needs to return them to their bodies so they can be vessels, but Cas doesn't want them to just yet. Wants to use them in heaven to find an angel named Joshua first.

FUCKKKKKK It deleted everything after this point. This was such a long post, too. Let's see what I can remember

Cas says Joshua talks to God and is in the garden in the center of heaven

○ Back to one of Dean's memories

"I just never realized how long you’ve been cleaning up Dad’s messes." Dean has been doing it even before they lost Mary (and he was only 4 when that happened)

Even when they're in heaven, there's so much trauma.

○ Back to one of Sam's memories

And of course there's more trauma

"And when Dad came home…" Dean can't even finish this sentence

And even more trauma

○ Zachariah wants to send them back to earth, but he still needs them to say yes, so he's gonna fuck with them a bunch first

○ ASH ASH ASH ASH ASH ASH

I love you. I never thought we'd see him again.

Dude's hacked heaven. Man, have I mentioned I love him? He hops around other people's heavens.

"He wrote the Kama Sutra. That boy’s heaven? Woah. Sweaty. Confusing." So Gay. I love it.

Dude's hacked angel radio

He says he's met the boys a few times here already. Each time they get revived, they forget heaven. Are they going to remember this time?

Awe they have to tell him Jo and Ellen died

He hasn't found Mary or John in heaven

○ Dean thinks these individual heavens sound lonely. And he doesn't like the fact that nothing around him is real. It's all a remake.

(I'm reading a fanfic that is the PERFECT season 16, and it has a lot of exactly that - Dean hating that heaven isn't real, so he misses earth)

○ Pamela is here

She's trying to convince Dean to say yes. Feels sketchy.

○ "I’m sure I’ll see you again soon." Ash knows how it goes.

○ Mary is saying all sorts of traumatizing stuff and has yellow eyes. I guess Zachariah found that way to fuck with them.

Zachariah is saying he's doing this memory of their mother. Disturbing.

He's mad that they've ruined his reputation

Some guy interrupted and says God will be mad if Zach doesn't let him talk to the boys alone. I take it that's Joshua.

They're in the garden. It looks different to different people. To them it's the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. They went there once on a field trip.

God has a message for them: "Back off."

"He knows what the angels are doing. He knows that the Apocalypse has begun. He just doesn’t think it’s his problem. God saved you already. He put you on that plane. He brought back Castiel." He's finished helping

"This time, God wants you to remember" there's that answer.

○ Aand they're back on earth

○ Hi Cas, baby

He's all depressed bc he just lost his faith after learning how much of a dick God is.

"You son of a bitch. I believed in…"

He gave back Dean's God-finding necklace. Then dipped.

He looks so good being all down and depressed. I love a pathetic man.

And Dean threw it out bc it made our boy sad (or because he also lost faith bc of what Joshua was saying, and because he's mad at God, but imma go with it's because it made our baby sad)

It was so special to him

Let's hope I got all my thoughts down. I'm very angry at this stupid app.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

after midnight

a/n: dw i still am working on all my wips but i just wanted to show my love for the movie that ruled my childhood! also if there's a certain fairy tale and character you would like me to do i would love to do more of something like this! this is the first part, but the others have been written already, lemme know if y'all would like me to continue posting for this word count: 2.5k warning(s): the evil stepmother is NOT cunty in this guys (rip cate blanchett); the step sisters are definitely not girls girls; everyone is gay; if you know the story you know; but im also going to add aspects from one of the non-disney versions; mentions of blood (small but at the beginning); not an exact retelling, more like cinderella is a blueprint? prompt: you never thought that you would go from cleaning fireplaces and singing to mice to dancing in the royal palace in a magical disguise, meeting the love of your life. or, a cinderella story <3

The needle pricked your finger, sending droplets of blood spilling onto the fine fabric. You watched as the red seeped into the green, mesmerized by how the blood ran quick. How you wished you could be as free, as quick as you ran. But your father built this house, his hopes and dreams were buried deep into the foundations, no matter how much your step-mother tried to erase his memory. She loved his money but cringed at his legacy.

"Y/N? Gods, where is that wretched girl?" Your stepmother's voice echoed up the stairs to the attic where you resided. Quickly, you folded the cloth over, hiding the spot of blood staining the rich emerald fabric. You were mending an evening gown of your stepmother, one she had snagged on a splinter of wood while evading your requests of new fabrics. Your clothes were quickly becoming patchwork quilts and even though you rarely left your attic space, you were desperate to sew a dress that you could feel proud of. Your door burst open, revealing Valentina, the woman who's presence seemed to make your room grow colder. Her eyes narrowed in on the dress in your lap and she scoffed, hand clutching the handle of the attic door tightly, as if speaking to you was a burden.

"Are you still working on that? Whatever, the fireplace needs tending to," She spun around to go back downstairs, obviously signaling you to follow, "Oh, and be mindful, the dressmaker is here, don't get soot on any of her fabrics."

Valentina's tone was haughty, as if even when she couldn't see you, she spoke looking down upon you. You merely nodded, gently folding the dress on your bed and following your step-mother down the stairs. Making sure to keep your head down, you passed Valentina, heading towards the main fire place, where burnt logs sat and ash blanketed the stone like snow. You internally sighed, knowing how this task would end. Grabbing a rag, you sat on your knees as you started gathering the loose ash and kindling, mindful of the sparks that still lingered. The voices of Valentina's daughters wafted into the room like a burnt goose pie, making your stomach uneasy as you braced yourself for the comments they would surely make. Thankfully, you heard the voice of Shuri, the acclaimed dressmaker, mingling with theirs, gently shutting down their absurd ideas. While your curiousity spun around in your mind, furiously wondering why your step-mother had called on Shuri, someone who only made dresses for the most extravagant of occasions. She also had extravagant prices, prices you weren't sure how your step-mother would repay.

"We can do measurments in here, ignore Y/N, she'll be doing her chores." Valentina absentmindedly waved in your direction, sitting on the stool farthest from you. Shuri nodded in hello, giving you a small smile which you returned. The basket she carried was full of fabric samples and measuring strands, grabbing your attention with the expensive items she so leisurley held. As your step-sisters argued, Shuri gave you her attention, her question making you pause as you cleaned the fireplace.

"Are you also going to the ball, Y/N? I'm sure I have the creativity to quickly sketch a fourth dress." Shuri joked, not noticing how your hands shook as you continued your task. There was a ball? And your stepmother was commisioning dresses for herself and her daughters in front of you, flaunting the knowledge you didn't have. While you could care less about a ball, you were bothered by how little you knew of the outside world, of the town you loved so much. Something clicked in your mind as you thought, lifting your head to turn and begin to ask your stepmother a question but her voice cut through the air.

"Unless Y/N somehow cleans the entire house top-to-bottom until it shines and sorts our mixed grain into like piles in time for the royal ball, I don't think she'll be needing your services, Miss Adanna. Besides, the queen is hosting this ball so her daughter may find a spouse, what use would she have of a serving girl?"

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

"This isn't a request! You must marry!" Evanora's stern voice echoed through the throne room, practically rattling the armour of her guards. She glared at her daughter who stood before her, hair down and wild from horseback. Agatha stared back, arms crossed and head held defiantly.

"For what reason? The kingdom is prospering, the people are happy and for the most part well fed, and we've no news of our enemies to the south! Why must I marry, Mother?" At the purple wisps gathering at her fingertips, Agatha anticipated her mother's response. The queen bunched her hands into fists, her jaw clenched as she spoke.

"You know the reason, daughter. Your...studies have put you in a very precarious position and the curse will solidify on your next birthday. Plus, it won't hurt to erase the image people have of you, with your escapades and trysts that bring embarassment into my court."

Agatha merely scoffed, uncrossing her arms as she held them out incrediously.

"If you've forgotten, Mother, my birthday is at the end of this month. And the curse you speak of can only be broken by unconditional love, something you wouldn't know about." Agatha spit out her words like venom, hopeful they would affect her mother in any way. But the Queen merely watched her daughter with cold eyes, waving her messanger up to the throne. The man gave a crooked bow to Agatha as he passed her, scroll in hand. Evanora took the scroll with a nod, dismissing the man. He scurried out of the large room, footfalls echoing in the silence. The Queen waved the announcement in the air, almost tauntingly, before she opened and began reading out loud.

"The Crown formally invites you to partake in the debutante ball for Crown Princess and Heir Agatha of House Harkness. Our home will be open for three nights as our beloved Princess searches for a partner to strengthen the bonds of our kingdom."

The Queen put down the scroll, letting it fall to the ground as she smirked at her daughter.

"You'll have three nights to find this unconditional love or the consequences you'll face will doom the lives of everyone you hold dear."

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

The thought of leaving the house, if only for a few nights, ate away at your mind, distracting you from your chores. Shuri had long left, your stepmother and stepsisters measurements and requests for last minute additions scribbled on a notepad you were sure she wanted to burn. But before she left, she grabbed a package from her carriage, giving it you once Valentina and her daughters had already gone inside. Inside, you found fabric, soft and beautiful. The shimmering pink shade reminded you of your mother and how she decorated the house before she died.

"I'm sorry it's not much but I've seen your work Y/N, if they won't have me make you a dress, I believe you can bring your own dream to life." Shuri clasped your hands in hers in a goodbye, her kindness overwhelming you, bringing tears to your eyes. However, at the screams of your stepsisters for tea, your bubble was burst and you made your way inside, careful to keep the package out of Valentina's sight, hiding it under a loose floorboard in the kitchen before you started the afternoon tea. Anya, the eldest of the two stepsisters, practiced her dancing, stumbling into the couches and lounge chairs as she held a candlestick in place of the Crown Princess. Damille, the stepsister close to you in age by a few months, scoffed at her sister and mockingly danced, starting a fight between the two sisters. You kept your laughter to yourself, remembering the sting of Valentina's hand when you reacted to her daughters antics the first week after your father's passing. While you waited for the water to boil, you prepared the tea leaves, grabbing a lemon to slice and squeezing the tart juice over the dry leaves. Your mind wandered once again to the idea of going to a ball. A royal ball. While you had never truly seen the royal family, you recalled the portrait of the heir you had once seen in the library of your town. You felt heat rise to your face as you recalled the childlike crush you had on the Crown Princess, shaking your head as you pouring the now boiling water into three teacups, careful to avoid splashing the water onto your skin. Once the liquid turned into a pale yellow-green shade, you strained out the leaves and prepared a tray with the cups, a bowl of sugar cubes, and some milk for Damille, who prefered her tea tart with no sugar. You walked into the sitting room, setting the tea down in front of your stepmother. While you prepared it the way she enjoyed, you attempted to ask her a question.

"Stepmother, may I accompany you to the Royal Ball? It would cost you no expense, I can make my own dress-"

Valentina's laugh cut you off.

"With the scraps you have? I will not be seen in public with someone is a patchwork excuse for a dress, at a royal ball no less. Besides you have chores." Even though she waved her hand through the air, indicating the conversation was over, you continued, feeling slightly desperate at a chance to taste freedom.

"I can get the chores done in time, the house is never truly dirty, and I could wear one of my mother's old-"

It was Valentina's cold stare that stopped you from continuing. Something clicked in her eyes and she brought up her tea to take a sip, reveling in your tense body language. Slowly she set her tea back onto the china plate, the soft clink the only noise as you and her daughters awaited her answer.

"If you can create a dress, a new dress, that isn't embarassing for my family and if you can complete the chore of mucking the stables before the first night of the ball, you may accompany us. But," she held a finger almost accusingly in your face, "You will not speak to anyone of any status while there."

There was something in her tone, something you couldn't quite place but her agreement overshadowed any caution you could've had. You practically danced out of the room, patterns for your dress spinning in your mind.

You didn't notice the look your step-mother shared with her daughters as you left, an evil glint shining in their eyes.

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

Agatha walked around the library, absentmindly running her fingers across the spines of every book as she was lost in thought.

The curse was her fault, yes, but she would never admit her mother was right. She would admit, however, that her stunt of gaining power in hope of overthrowing her mother was done in haste. If she had read the fine print maybe she wouldn't be in this position. She silently scolded herself as she saw a slight purple haze cover her vision as magic pooled in her eyes.

She had three nights, three, to find someone who could potential help her break the curse she put upon herself. Blinking away the haze, Agatha looked down at her hands, her black fingertips fading into dark grey veins up to her elbow. The words her mother spoke to her the night the curse was solidified rang in her head as she followed her unearthly veins with her eyes.

How could anyone love someone like her?

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

You leaned against the tree your parents had planted the night of their wedding, tears streaming down your face as you clutched onto the scraps of your dress. You had slaved over this garment, days were spent tending to your stepmothers every word but nights were spent hunched over with a needle as you sewed a dress you had dreamed of. A dream that was nothing now. You were raised to be kind to all but as you recalled the event of this night, you felt hatred bubble in your chest.

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

Excitement was all you could feel as you slipped into your dress, proud of your work. You had finished mucking out the stables hours ago, giving you time to wash the stink away from your skin and hair. Pride welled in you as you smoothed the fabric with your hands, opening your attic door to join your step-mother and step-sisters as they waited for the coach that would take you to the palace.

"Mother, look!" Anya practically shouted as you walked down the stairs, covering her smirking expression with a fan. Valentina spread her arms out in what you would learn to be false affection. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, your step-mother examined your dress, pursing her lips. Quickly, the excitment you felt died like a dwindling fire as your step sisters joined their mother in circling you.

"Oh Y/N, I just don't think this'll work. This design is just...it has too many faults. Here, let us help."

Your confusion was replaced by cold shock as Valentina's hand shot out to rip part of your sleeve off. Anya followed, grabbing part of the skirt to pull on the seams. Damille's was the worst, using both hands to create a distance between the bodice and the top of your skirt. You stood frozen, tears streaming down your face angrily as they continued to destroy your hard work. It was over the second the familiar sound of horses sounded outside.

You don't remember what Valentina said to you before she left, or the snide remarks her daughters added on. All you remember was running, running through the house, running across the backyard into the open land where your parents tree stood proud.

And that's where you found yourself.

"How could you be so stupid?" You muttered to yourself as you wiped away tears, angry for allowing yourself to believe your step-mother could ever show you kindness. In your wallowing, you didn't notice how the ground in front of the tree started to swirl, how the wind changed directions, how a slight humming noise filled the air.

"Now why are you crying when you should be at the ball?" A slightly cocky voice spoke in front of you, unfamiliar yet comforting. Your head shot up and your eyes widened at the sight in front of you. A woman, wearing a sparling cloak stood expectantly, hand on her hip while the other held a wand. Blinking, you stuttered out a response.

"I, I can't go. They ruined my dress and my stepmother would recognize me. I don't want to deal with the aftermath."

The sparkling woman held out her wand, pointing it at you.

"I'm not too fond of this 'can't' business. You have a very obvious fairy godmother standing in front of you, ready to snap her fingers and say a catch phrase I created when I was younger. So tell me, Y/N, do you want to go to the ball?"

Without hesitation, you nodded and your fairy godmother waved her wand.

a/n: whoa cliffhanger, wonder what happens next...but seriously, i love doing AUs like this and I'll focus on getting my other wips out but lemme know if you enjoyed this??

[suffarustuffaru]

terrible ideas for rezero matching icons (arc 8 and ex spoilers)

spica going :D while julius and otto plot to kill her. this can even work extremely well without spica. here is some concept art. im gonna make this one real bc me and a pal wanna do it

^^ add in rem and subaru matching icons if you want (they’re screaming in horror)

felix / fourier / crusch but fourier is Deceased and felix and crusch are bawling

felix and julius………………………….. from That Scene in pride if

rowan, cecilus, and the heavenly sword.

cat garfiel and cat heinkel from garfiel’s theatre dream

rabbit. and subaru.

normal julius icon paired with a gluttonyed joshua.

pandora. and theresia. and a white bird

a set of astrea icons but louanna is eepy and theresia is just a jar of ash

greed if ottosuba icons but it’s a transparent otto going “gay gay homosexual gay” and subaru going “FUUUCK I CAN STILL HEAR HIS VOICE”. add in a matching echidna icon too

greed if subaru / a half-dead echidna. if you know you know

gluttonybaru / random ass book of the dead. like the matching icon to subaru is just a whole ass book

todd and subaru but like this:

^^ alternatively the same as the above but with louis and subaru

main route otto / a literal wall / greed if subaru

cute 🫶 matching icons but one is subaru and the other is satella’s shadow hands

emisuba icons but its them dead and holding hands from arc 1

anastasia, ram, subaru, and patrasche………………. from the miasma tunnel scene

meili / pushing amnesiabaru down those stairs

subaru…………………. and an unwashed cup

cute icon of emilia kissing subaru / subaru being FUCKJNG DEAD

arc 3 julisuba duel

julius / reid beating his ass

normal natsuki family icons!!!! with naoko, kenichi, an empty frame ("Subaru, where are you?"), and a jar of mayo.

subaru + getting stabbed/jumped by rachins, camberley, and gaston (the three guys from arc 1) + a hot woman watching them bc camberley has the dp of bedroom wiles—

cecilus / halibel / subaru (wrath if edition)

subaru, rem, their children, and appa man raising an eyebrow and asking him whether he is fine (sloth if subaru returning back to the arc 3 save point after dying of old age)

rem and “who?”

the barbie and ken meme with otto and subaru bc theyre definitely the kind of people to get arrested together. they literally have in a lost in memories if route

pridebaru doing half a hand heart / reinhard too busy crying to do the other half / emilia killing pride

little kid otto, otto’s cat crush, and the cat’s crush

joshua. and an apple. if you know you know

louis / rem strangling subaru LMFAOO

subaru flinging paperwork off frame / otto drowning in paperwork

the three idiots crossdressing! :) this is the most normal idea on this list.

EDIT BC I FORGOT TO ADD THIS ONE: regulus and reinhard in arc 5 being launched to the moon :)

some of these are ideas from my pals (you know who you are). also if you have more awful ideas or wanna see some of these become real feel free to say so 🙏🙏🙏

[sardar106]

had this in drafts for a while. sleep deprived brain decided to post it now instead of waiting for the anniversary, so

okay— Ash (@thepersonwithoutaname) said before that An Epilogue 2/22 by TE/MO is Icarus coming back home and reflecting on their life and other people’s view on it. and I agree on this a lot but… if you think about it being the anniversary the Cathedral… it’s specifically Icarus in the Worldport during the anniversary of the Cathedral reflecting on their life and what happened

and here’s why and why I shake it so hard (kinda line-by-line analysis (also my first song analysis real?))

A year out from the day And it still feels like yesterday That some part of me died Upon that slab of steel

point one, anniversary of something point two, the memories of it feel so close, they funky as Quixis point three, change that to stone and you got that perfectly

Cuz when you think that you can swim You don't expect the tides to pull you in Especially when you're wading into Rivers ankle deep

Icarus. moving on— (but seriously tho, the whole arc after the Cathedral)

Now I’m hunting my own body A ghost miserable and lost The spirit of that January And everything it cost…

Icarus and hunting? with everything that happened with Haley and then thinking that it happened to Centross and also just being Quixis in general. they’re not like what they used to be. they don’t have their wings. they don’t have their jewelry. they’re just Quixis January? like how the Cathedral was in January? yeah what the Cathedral is and the aftermath of it caused

How I wish I could return to claim The parts of me that burned Oh I was mean at times But least that was a choice

burned?? arson??? parts of them that burned?? yeah. “mean at times” that’s a bit of an understatement, my guy not all of it was their choice, but at least wanting him back was

Ambition's waiting by the door Finally returning from the war But she's been gone so long We can't recall her voice

change war to the stasis chamber Isla was in, it’s after Rae got her out yeah… they already didn’t before becoming Quixis

It's a gold rush fever Panning for the simplest bits of joy

Gold? in this economy? yeah, Icarus because of Fable after Cathedral they tried so hard, went through so much, to bring him back, to be able to bicker and be with him

Oh I used to get things done And honey, Lord help anyone That stood between me and The empires I made

could be about before corruption and stuff you see, I know that line is different, but “honey, Lord”? about Centross. they be gay. he be a god don’t really have anything for the two other lines

Now when shit gets hard I walk And I can't stand it when I start to talk I hate it more than you That I can't put it in a grave

Icarus walking instead of flying because “when shit gets hard” is when the phantom pain in their torso is strong talking in the Worldport just feels weird. especially when there’s no one around they just want to burry all that grief and anger towards Fable but they can’t and they hate that fact

Oh I wish I could return to claim The parts of me that burned Oh I was mean at times But least that was a choice

Ambition's waiting by the door Finally returning from the war But she's been gone so long We can't recall her voice

It's a gold rush fever Panning for the simplest bits of joy

all three same as the first time as they loop their thoughts

Moving on’s a luxury They'll say I can afford But with pockets starved of gold dust Babe, just how can I be sure?

basically flash back in this part they couldn’t move on from Centross’ death but they’ve seen the people around them be okay starved of gold dust? Fable. thinking about what if he doesn’t come back

If time heals every wound But no one mourns the wicked dead Then she'll be trapped forever With each sorry tear she shed

Icarus and Isla. Icarus and Isla. Icarus and Isla wounded by not having her around as a child they’e the wicked dead. just, no more words she was trapped for eternity she. just Isla. she’s so sad about not being there for her kids

Bodies they remember What the mind tries to forget Bodies they remember What the heart saw as a threat

My body it remembers What the mind tries to forget My body still remembers What my heart saw as a threat

the understand that. they understand that and they know it’s happening to everyone in the universe. but if we call back the first verse with it being the anniversary, their body freaking out when it hits the day

Wish I could return to claim The parts of me that burned Oh I was mean at times At least I made a choice

we’ve been over the first part. but the last line at least they made a choice. their choice in the Finale

Ambition's waiting by the door Finally returning from the war But she's been gone so long We can't recall like anything at this point

the last line again first they said they don’t remember her voice but they didn’t remember anything about her Rae did. he told them. but it was never their memories

How I wish I could return to claim The parts of me that burned Oh I was mean at times At least I wasn’t gone

yeah. yeah. at least they didn’t die in the cave it sucks a lot that they had to go and put everyone through that but if Fable got the portal, went in the Worldport and took Midas’ powers, things would’ve been much more fucked

Ambition's waiting by the door Finally returning from the war But she's been gone so long We’ve learnt to carry on…

they’ve learnt to carry on cuz they had to they had to live without her they had to live not just that, they forgot her. they carried on, in a sense

It's a gold rush fever Panning for a reason to be strong

they have to be strong all the universes are carried by their hands they can’t mess up they have to focus

Somehow it feels like this is only the beginning… But I guess that means I'm getting better, doesn't it? With how much the body remembers Healing is not linear… But we find a start in the end and Go from there

this part. oh, this part. it’s spoken, not sung. emotions are controlled, they are done with it all they’re Quixis and it’s been a year since the Cathedral. it’s a new beginning new beginnings means getting better the body remembers, the mind not as much, healing has ups and downs, there’s not a solid way to predict it just, yeah

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 114

Part 1 Part 113

It’s fully dark by the time they trundle into the trailer park. The sceneries nostalgic, almost. Steve at his side, his feet aching from too long upright, not another soul in sight. There’s no ash floating in the air, and no vines squirming on the ground, and the sky’s not an ominous red.

Will he ever be able to walk down this familiar stretch of street without thinking of that time?

He almost hopes not. Without the Upside-Down, when he and Steve ever come together like this?

Maybe it’s stupid, but he wants to hold onto those memories just as much as this one. They’re what got him here, holding Steve Harrington’s hand, floating past cloud nine and straight into the stratosphere.

His glasses are chock full of roses.

It’s a tragedy that he has to drop Steve’s hand to open and unlock the door, but he makes do.

Wayne’s on his recliner when they stumble through the door, holding a beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He glances away from the screen, double takes, then stares back, eyeing them both up and down with an eyebrow raised.

He takes a long, loud sip from his beer, then asks, “you boys have a fun night?”

Eddie glances at Steve, and it’s only then that he notices how disheveled they both must look. Steve’s lips are still swollen, and his hair’s fucked beyond repair. Steve’s eying Eddie in kind, making those same damning connections.

He looks worried around the edges, though, so Eddie does what he’s always done best: put on a show.

He turns to Wayne, hands planted on his hips and says, “Wayne, I’ve got something to tell you.” He reaches out, linking his hand with Steve’s once more. “I’m gay.”

Wayne snorts, coughing on his beer. It must burn because his eyes water as he gasps out, “you play too much, boy.” He wipes the overflow from his chin, glaring up at Eddie. “You finally figure your shit out?”

Eddie beams, squeezing Steve’s hand. “Stevie here figured it out for me.”

Wayne looks between them for a few seconds more before shrugging disinterestedly, says a flippant, “he’s my favorite son for a reason,” and then just turns back to the TV to continue flicking through channels.

And that’s it. That was all she wrote, and all that. The world just, keeps turning.

“Should we tell anyone?” Steve asks that night, curled up into his side the way he always is. “Besides Will?”

He pulls Steve closer, the fondness in his chest expanding to the point of pain. Will, who is a part of their fucked up little trio. Of course, they’ll tell him.

It might even help him come to terms with some things that were hard won, brutal battles for Eddie when he was Will’s age. Give the kid a little hope, and all that. Hope that there are partners better out there than Mike Wheeler, the turd.

Eddie hums, skimming his fingers up and down Steve’s arm. “Well, Wayne figured it out the minute he looked at us, that’s one down.” He holds up one finger before bringing it back to Steve’s arm and tapping it against it. “You told Carol, so that adds in her and Barb.” Fingers two and three, tap, tap.

“Jeff?”

“Oh, definitely Jeff.” Eddie raises a fourth finger, taps it once before unlocking his thumb so he can clutch Steve’s hand. He pulls it up to his own chest, pressing it to the beating of his heart. “He wants me to tell him about the Upside-Down.”

Steve’s quiet, and it’s too dark to read his face no matter how hard Eddie strains his eyes.

“Do you think I should?”

Steve sighs, digging his pointy chin into Eddie’s shoulder. “I don’t know, man.”

“Man,” Eddie cuts in, mockingly. “Your tongue was in my mouth like, ten minutes ago.”

Eddie’s body shakes with Steve’s quiet laughter. “Fine, whatever,” he huffs. “It’s not up to me, Loverboy.”

The nicknames got that same mocking edge Eddie himself had used. It still makes his heartbeat stutter in his chest.

“But I’m not sure this is a situation where not knowing would help them?” he continues, voice lilting up at the end like it’s a question. “I mean, it didn’t help us.”

Eddie sighs, letting himself melt into the springy mattress. Look at all of them. They’d left Carol in the dark, and she’d crawled her way into the inner circle by her hell-beast talons.

Stumbling around in the dark never helped anyone.

“I’ll think about it,” Eddie says, already knowing that its too late. The worm’s wriggled its way into his brain and made a home there.

But there’s an order to these things, and Will comes first, always. They clamber into Eddie’s van in the morning, ready to enjoy whatever somehow overcooked and overcooked concoction Mama Byers has made for breakfast.

Jonathan opens the door before they’re even out of the van. He leans against the door jam, crossing his arms and glaring hatefully out at them, still in his raggedy pajama pants.

“Johnny Boy!” Eddie calls, beaming as he bounds up to him, shoving past him to come into the house, uninvited. “You’re looking mighty cheerful this morning.”

“Sorry, I don’t have a cheerful face on for the early-morning uninvited guests,” he grumbles, stepping out of the way and letting Steve through with much less ire.

Eddie can’t blame him. Steve’s in his stupid yellow sweater looking soft and warm in the November air. Eddie can’t compete with that, doesn’t even want to.

“Is Will up?” Steve asks, in a far more appropriate volume for the early morning.  

Jonathan gestures toward the back of the house before stumbling over to the couch and sinking into it.

Mama Byers isn’t anywhere in sight, and the house is quiet enough that their voices may carry. Eddie’s not worried. These people are his family, and more importantly, they’re Will’s.

If the wall’s have got ears, he couldn’t pick anyone better to be listening. He’d bare any bit of himself here, if Will needs him to.

Eddie grabs Steve’s wrist and pulls him along toward Will’s bedroom. It’s time to get this show on the road.

Part 115

[beescrafting]

Johnny's Family.

Okay okay so i've been thinkinng about this for to long.

So in the end of MW2 the 141 get Johnny's ashes, not his family, the 141.

So this either believes me to think that Johnny doesn't really have a family or he was for better words for less, cut off and kicked out.

NOW HERE ME OUT-

we know Johnny's fruity in the game, its been hinted to us that he's the gay one (not ghost, ghost is Bisexual or Pansexual depending on where you wanna go with that its a whole other can of worms frfr)

Johnny was also brought up catholic...

When Johnny came out his family kicked him out and cut him off, they practically cut him off from the family tree no longer claiming him as theirs.

Thats why the 141 get Johnny's ashes, that's why they don't go to his family, Johnny was banished from his family from once he came out, and what do you do when you have no money and are just outta high school? You join the army. Johnny joined the army to avoid being homeless.

This also means none of his family tapped him out of boot camp.

Anyway, this thought has been in my brain for awhile and god can you imagine Christmas or Thanksgiving for him? He stays on base because he doesn't actually have a family to go back to, yes they are all living unlike Ghost's but they want nothing to do with him due to him being Gay.

To be honest that just makes him more relatable for a lot of people who've had to deal with that.

It explains why Johnny's so angry, why they get his ashes, why they spread his ashes.

Johnny's ashes were spread on those green hills in Scotland, in those highlands. Johnny's ashes were most likely spread there due to him talking about good memories there as kid where he had a family before they kicked him out for being gay.

the 141 was the most family like thing he's had since he was a wee lad.

[mangocurist]

hello oz mangocurist i have no idea what's happening on the realm can i ask what is the canon situation with zam's gender and relationships rn 🙏🙏

hi hello nitpick7!!!! yes of course you can ill do my best to sum stuff up ^_^

Okay. so. starting w gender stuff. zams gender is princezam tho afaik i believe cczam has referred to trzam with she/her multiple times and also said 'if pangi was straight hed be with me' so. take that as you will. now for relationships this will go under the cut LMAO cause its like gonna get long. most of these will b people from the sleepover but ill try and sum up as much as i can rmb!!!!

-> pilizam . oh my pilizam <3 okay so basically theyre 'teammates' in the lifesteal sense (theyre marriedI MEAN WHOSAID THAT) and they just had a boundaries discussion and they are STILL GOING STRONV I OVERREACTED THEYRE STILL TOGETHER HEALTHIEST COUPLE ON THIS SERVER EVERYBODY 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💪💪💪💪 . zam respects pili/aces need to start chaos but she wants to try and choose a peaceful life which is vv similar to the devotions dynamic we had on s6 ^_^ also theyre coparenting peanut. neither of them will admit it but theyre coparenting him.

-> roszam is going pretty well rn!! ros very clearly adores zam and defends her esp when people are being rude and mean to her and zam does the same thing w ros (well, she moreso lifts ros up instead of threatening those against her which is rly fun because its like the demi goddess here isnt the one at someone elses throat LMAO) . they both have vv similar characters nd personalities nd theyre kinda enabling each other tho so who knows if thatll end w them clashing bc historically.... well we know what happened w aimros i think 😭😭😭. they r vv good at gettiing each other out of their bad headspaces tho which inthink is super sweet ^_^

-> empire duo is. rocky situation i think bc pangi trusts her a Lot a lot but zam is sad about it because hes lost the memories of how she is on tr, and shes also unsure of whether or not she can take on the duty of being the person that pangi trusts the most on tr because before pangi used to trust the other realm members much more than her, but now shes his one rock . also vv awkward because while she sees ls as her home still she dislikes her past while their past is the only thing pangi has to hold on to now

-> lukey. uh. she sees him as a hamster (i think in and out of character) she wants to take care of LMFAOOOOO idk what else to add here hahaha. she hated him before bec of his relationship w pangi but she likes him a lot better now! and shes told him shed like to keep him safe so. (also she was upset when she saw his death msg even tho it wss a prank LMAO) sooooooo maybe if we play our cards right we get zamkey... (<- no one else wants this but me)

-> aimsey! she doesnt interact much w him in lore so i cant say what exactly their relationship is but theyre def friends ooc at least and that totally bleeds into whatever rp they do ^_^

-> watermunch. Uhh. erm. well she likes water, she doesnt get why trwater hates her (i think its the trwater sees her as a Big bad Evil Knight out to get her or something . sorry if i sound salty i dislike trwater a Lot. You can be a hater just not toward my princess :/) and shes trying her best to get thru to water ^_^ unstoppable force vs immovable object ong

-> zam nd bad .... idk if she even sees him as her evil stepmother anymore if im being Tbh. shes gotten a lot more sympathetic to him after seeing his alcohol problem and shes overall much softer w him ^_^ it could also be a nirvana thing since she did say she feels like nirvana changed her

-> foolish has been absent for a week but she v clearly still looks up to him, as well as sneeg who she compares herself to a lot which makes sense bc theyre both her mentor/father figures ^_^ she has a very cute little princess daughter w gay dads relationship w phil and sneeg and theyre so fun together i miss them sm

-> clown, ash and derap (all the other lstealers besides pangi basically)- she cares for them a lot and brings them up often, and shes currently grindjng gear sets for ash! whenever one of them logs in 9/10 times they all talk to her when they see her online / will even log on for her (see: clown a few days ago) but its mostly all ooc, in lore ash is a little sus of her faction and thus her by association, clown knighted her and is otherwise absentee and derap is grinding by himself LMFAO. and kyleeff is. kyleeff. no in character interactions but ooc theyre v friendly ^_^

overall zams very kind to literally everyone because shes kinda going for the path of peace and pacifism but i cant say how anyone else feels about her because for some reason people on this fucking server just HATE joyand whimsy

[localcanadiancreature62]

MORE Perfect Plan/Perfect World au lore

More of This au. This time with the logistics of the Perfect World itself and also Lobotomy Husbands stuff.

More Lobotomy Husbands musings + how the Perfect World works: There's no official law or government in Ford's Perfect World. Bill *IS* the law,he secretly enforces every law there by having his clones from the og Dimension 46'/ tell the actual cops what to do and he threatens to kill them if they don't comply. Although despite this,there's actual government officials cops and even Barack Obama as the president however they're just as fake as Ford's "family" since they're mere copies made to stabilize the dream world that Bill made for his researcher husband. There's even various civilians to populate the dream world,which are fake as well.

Bill and Ford have been married for 10 years,which is also the duration of how long the dream world has existed. Ford is now 70,and he has been 70 for a while as time doesn't fly in the Perfect World. No one ages here,they remain the same age as they were "created". Fidds and Stan are still in their 60s,the twins are 12,Wendy is 15,Soos is 21,etc. The general populace also stays in a permanent time stasis as no one ages or actually progresses besides the changes that Ford or Bill has made to the world.

The Henchmaniacs aren't allowed in the Perfect World,as Bill knows that those chaotic bastards will ruin the permanent stasis bubble he made for his husband in one way or another no matter how many times he threatens them as he knows that it's in their nature to destroy things as the monsters of the multiverse. Which is why Ford never actually sees Bill's friends despite the triangle often talking about them.

They're not actually married. Bill and Ford aren't actually married. Bill deadass just put a ring on himself and Ford then called it a day soon after the Perfect World was created,erasing the man's memory of him randomly giving him a ring and replacing the memory with an actual ceremony with the Henchmaniacs attending. Tfw you call a man your husband when you didn't even have a ceremony and just made him THINK you had one fr fr.

Fidds Stan Mabel Dipper Wendy and Soos are NOT aware of anything that's going on in the Perfect World. These mfs are literally empty husks with set instructions on how to act or feel,their personalities and desires are PROGRAMMED into them by Bill as if they were living dolls. Only Fiddleford is starting to become aware as Bill somehow managed to make him TOO advanced as he was given alll of the assets in order to be Ford's perfect bestie,which suddenly made him develop feelings and thoughts but Bill keeps erasing his memory every time so that he won't find out about the Horrors (everything is fake the world he lives in is a lie and his entire being is a lie and he's merely a clone of a man that was far more real than he is :]),but he doesn't know that this exact advanced copy will lead to his eventual defeat.

Ford is 100% aware of the horrific shit that Bill gets into like destroying and conquering worlds torturing people and literally having the entire multiverse under his palm but instead of being horrified about the fact that he's married to a monster,he's basically like "Oh that's nice,dear" because he's too damn happy and gay to notice how fucked up his triangular husband is. There is such a thing as being blinded by happiness...

The Perfect World was created after Bill grabbed the ashes of Dimension 46'/ and shaped the remains of the dimension into his researcher husband's happy place with his newfound abilities of controlling space matter and time. He made an entirely new dimension with the remains of the original one,one with moldable qualities and a permanent time stasis (Time Baby would be thoroughly pissed at the existence of a dimension where time doesn't progress if he was still alive). The Perfect World has since been called Dimension Infinity after the Axolotl acknowledged it as an official part of the multiverse, it's called such due to it having infinite possibilities with Bill constantly molding different aspects into it (but really out of universe,i just wanted it to sound cool fodndjdnd).

I was serious about Bill being the Ruler of the Multiverse. He deadass got exactly what he wanted after he made Weirdmaggedon global and "liberated" Dimension 46'/,with everyone in the multiverse worshipping him out of fear and slight admiration for managing to have the entire multiverse at his fingertips due to his sheer power. But really it was all because of his assets,and him realizing that he the more he uses his powers the more his power grows as he can now control EVERYTHING like he said "I can control Space,Matter,and now that the dumb baby is out of the way,Time itself!". Bill managed to get the Time Anomaly Removal Crew as well as Time Baby's old time soldiers at his side,he ended up having most dimensional rulers to agree to his demands regarding him being able to freely manipulate or destroy their worlds as he wishes lest they get their organs turned inside out,and he even got the Axolotl to let him take on their role of watching over the multiverse for them while also giving him permission to create worlds as he wishes. However the Axolotl was half bluffing,as they only let him take on the Multiverse Ruler role while not letting him freely create worlds besides being able to mold the Perfect World as he wishes. Because they knew that Bill's new plan was going to fail horribly one day,and letting him have everything he wants will slowly make him realize that he made a mistake once it all crumbles down on him in the end.

In the Perfect World,nothing gets in nothing gets out unless they have Bill's permission. Bill was somehow able to grab his memory of the Gravity Falls natural law of Weirdness Magnetism and he ended up expanding on it so that it would reach a dimensional scale. This is why interdimensional anomalies besides the ones that already exist inside of the Perfect World won't be able to get in,as only Bill has the ability to collapse the barrier with his current higher power level. No one really wants to stay there anyway save for a few refugees from decaying or destroyed dimensions,because everyone in the multiverse know that Bill is bad news and that they figured it would be better to not interact with him at all lest they get their skin turned inside out for merely insulting him or Ford. Bill did this because he doesn't want anyone to go in and ruin everything for his husband's dream world with their chaos.

I mentioned that the Perfect World doesn't change unless Bill or Ford do something to it. Bill's changes are usually precautionary measures or putting in things that Ford would like,such as a setting that causes any intruder to be electrocuted once they enter the buildings that they own/are associated with such as their condo the Oregon Institute of Oddology the Stanley Co Comics building Dipper and Mabel's house that they live with Stan and their fake ass parents (lightning bolts are set to appear and electrocute enemies until they die. Bill is playing with this world like the fuckin sims) and a museum where ancient extinct anomalies are on display (the bigfoot mothman etc) while Ford's changes are usually science/environment related such as having Bill invent a new mineral that replaces plastic so that people will use something renewable AND one that's better for the environment (also to feed his ego cuz he'll be hailed as a revolutionary for this invention loll) or making the triangle create a chemical that is more dangerous and potent than radiation so that he has better fuel for his giant death ray machine (made for.. entirely research related reasons and not because Ford wants to see a machine that can kill thousands,totally totally not).

Bill and Ford got EXACTLY what they wanted,with Bill being able to rule the multiverse with his genius by his side while Ford is a successful genius like he always wanted if he didn't fail to attend West Coast Tech university. They got everything they wanted,but at what cost?. At what cost,Bill/Ford?. Bill has to try everything to keep Ford happy lest he'd be all alone again with a miserable genius that hates him and things would go back to the bitter way they were while Ford is outright living a lie no matter how happy he is with it..

Ford is slightly more unhinged now that he lives in a world with no consequences i.e one where Bill can immediately reverse time to get rid of all casualties with his newfound power. He freely creates machines that can cause whole species' to go extinct,he has made guns that can kill a thousand men,the chemicals he has unleashed to the public are more noxious than any regular mineral,and he may or may not have made Bill create a self destruct device for their house if any intruders got in (it would kill the intruders by the time they escape). He is absolutely batshit insane and Bill loves him even more for it,especially when he's the one enabling Ford's crazy experiments without once making him doubt whether it's safe or not since he can just reverse everything whenever something goes wrong.

Oregon still technically exists in the Perfect World which is why it's called the OREGON Institute of Oddology,except Oregon America is the only place there. None of the other countries exist,Bill purposely made Oregon the only state and America the only country so that Ford would never want to leave (talk about possessive amiright?). He isn't even aware of the fact that he's living in the middle of nowhere nor the fact that America is the only country smack dab in the middle of an empty white void as he's too preoccupied with his picture perfect life to care.

Story wise,the beginning and the end has all of the lore and fucked up shit. The middle part however,is entirely just happy Lobotomy Husbands. As this particular section contains the entirety of their 10 year marriage. (okay but it's so funny that the entirety of the story is in two parts meanwhile there's a whole section where there's just married gay people pffft).

This au is set in Gravity Falls,but it's no longer a geographical anomaly when it's literally the only place that exists in the Perfect World's version of Oregon. The town is exactly the same as canon,only with no mayor or founder or history with the Northwests and Bill is it's sole leader.

[puhpandas]

What are some of your favorite movies and TV shows?

-monster house (one of my fav all time movies, has a nonexistent fan base and nobody remembers it until it prompts a memory of them last watching it in 2010 as a child, saying "oh yeah that exists" then never again. the vision and behind the scenes captivated me sm along with liking it since I was young)

-the iron giant (a boy and his robot ☹️ also 2d animation my beloved. the movie is funny as hell also)

-pokemon 2000 (a LOT of the pokemon movies tbh but this one is my favorite, chosen one ash my beloved. 2nd fav might be volcanion because of ash getting fucking dragged around and beaten up for a quarter+ of the movie😭 need to rewatch that soon I think)

-the toy story movies I know everyone likes them but I like them an extra amount I love learning about them and the characters and everything so much (also classic Pixar movies like walle and stuff as well. not a classic but Luca too)

-the sonic movies they were my intro to sonic and I just like them a lot they're a fun time and well written

-gravity falls (genuinely my roman empire I've never had something affect me and change my identity so much as that show I couldn't express the extent if I wanted to. personally also a big fan of gf x paranorman specifically crossover but also mystery kids in general)

-ben 10 original series (I first watched it in like August 2024 or something and it immediately hooked me I just love the characters so much and bc the show is admittedly lacking in overarching plot but that means the characters are almost the entire show and they're such great ones and the characters are flawed and nuanced and are allowed to be mean to each other and it's funny. just has a lot of potential that both was realized and wasn't but it's a great show in my opinion. I wish more people saw my vision for Ben and Gwen)

-andi mack (I wouldn't call it one of my favorite shows as a first pick but I enjoyed watching it a lot and appreciate how good it is and the writing. the characters are basically the entire plot and the main character andi is actually allowed to be flawed and it isn't treated in a way where she's evil, she's just allowed to be called out and try her best but fall back into it sometimes. also Cyrus Goodman having a genuine arc about finding out he's gay and it's not oversaturated??? means everything 2 me. also VERY good family dynamics that are nuanced between mothers and daughters and family in general it's all written in a way that feels so real and impressive in my opinion I appreciate the show a lot . also I need to psychoanalyze Jonah beck)

-the pokemon anime duh but specifically like, original ash Ketchum to the new ash Ketchum fanon pipeline. it's so strange bc I love ash in alola a lot but I wish his entire character didn't just change bc the literal definition of a shonen protagonist did over time. original ash my beloved but also sun and moon is obviously a fav it has the best vibes. also kalos to alola pipeline ahhhhh. kalos crisis you are so cool

blanking now but tsym for the question everybody plz go watch Ben 10 and watch the making of the monster house and take a look at the concept art too thank you✌️

[rei-ismyname]

From The Ashes - Mystique

So, Mystique has her own book once more with issue #1 dropping on October 16th. Given the state of the Marvel world at the moment (or at least the X-books, everyone else seems focused elsewhere while mutants are being slaughtered and imprisoned... again) it really feels like Raven Darkholme's time to shine.

Looks cool but feels like something's missing

She hasn't had a solo book since 2004 - 20 years - and a lot has changed since then. She was quite the breakout character during the Krakoan age - she got her wife Destiny back, she found a sort of understanding with their son Nightcrawler (and we all learned the truth of the retcon in a pretty slick way), and perhaps most importantly we got a sense of her interiority. I'd be remiss in not mentioning Rogue, but they weren't really in each other's orbits until Fall of X. YMMV, but she became sympathetic for the first time ever. We got to see her interact with almost everyone as an uneasy ally while still being her bad bitch black ops self. Not friends, but on the same team with the overarching investment in keeping their shared home working. There was a foundation of connective tissue there right until the end.

Be Gay, Do Crime?

Alas, the wheel has turned again and Krakoa is no more. The connective tissue is gone. However, out of the three people she was closest to narratively - Destiny, Kurt and Rogue - the relationship I'm truly invested in seeing more of is her and Destiny. The book isn't called Mystique and Destiny, and she's not in any of the solicits or preview artwork, but surely they wouldn't do a Mystique book without her, would they?

My favourite sapphic terrorists

Yeah, I think they would tbh. Destiny is a very complex character to write and she was so entwined with Krakoa from the start in HoxPoX due to the nature of her gift - seeing possible futures. As the narrative pulls away from Krakoa, as we look for those pieces of connective tissue, as character growth is left by the wayside or undone, the world and stories are getting much smaller. Destiny had reached the promised land and her gift was focused on survival - of the married couple and Krakoa itself. I'm just not sure where she'd fit in a From The Ashes world.

Such a strong partnership too - Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler.

The elephant in the room is that the pair are very popular and I'm pretty sure the Mystique-buying demographic would have something to say about Destiny being absent. I'm thinking the Magneto treatment is likely, some contrived way of keeping her in the margins of the run or even depowering her. We know Mystique is going to be more of a face than she's been in the past, 'protecting mutants.' That is a good thing as her motivations were often baffling pre-2019. Her behaviour was often handwaved with 'craziness' which is not good for any character, especially a woman.

Destiny in her distinctive mask is visible in this header, although...

This was somewhat explained in Fall of X that Xavier's (consensual) memory tampering knocked something loose, for lack of a better term. I'm hoping the growth we saw sticks, and I don't think that's unrealistic, it's the rest of it. What prompted me writing this was the AIPT review of the first issue. It all sounds exciting but the only other character mentioned is Nick Fury, nothing on Destiny. Any reviewer worth their salt should have a sense of expectations, and the absence feels meaningful.

Obviously this is all speculation, which is fun, though I'm not going off nothing here. I'm trying to be mindful of being the 'Krakoa was the best and this shit sucks' person, but Krakoa WAS the best and I really don't want From The Ashes to suck. I don't have any control over that, though I do have control over my expectations.

Bling! knows what's up, leaning on the fourth wall.

The last thing I think needs consideration is that the couple got the Wedding Special very recently. It was pretty good, though I thought the best parts were the Claremont interview and Anole's ongoing protest. But it was popular!

Mystique would LOVE that. Bisexual Menace for life.

He ended up putting it on a t-shirt. I need one!

As fun as it was and as much hype it got at the time, remember that it was a Pride Month thing. Ever the rainbow capitalists, Marvel picked a winning focus but I don't think they'd have done outside of Pride Month. Sadly, that might apply to their relationship as well. I think it would be a miscalculation, but the signs point to it being a solo book. As I often say in my doomsaying posts, we shall see and I hope I'm wrong.

They're just too iconic and work so well together. Don't get me wrong, good writing can make anything work. Aside from my ongoing mourning of Krakoa, WLW rep is important and for all their faults they deserve love like everyone else. Maybe a Sisterhood of Evil Morally Ambiguous Mutants is on the cards?