#date night fueled by spite

[ghostlyvisage]

Spite & Dine

It had taken him a bit to find a good dining place, one that had a rooftop view, but had an indoor option. he didn't exactly need his frame to start whistling because the wind blew too hard. When he found a good place, a fancy restaurant with a 360 view of the city below them, he made the reservation and sent it to the medic. 

Normally he tried to avoid all medics, no matter what specified field they went into, but he could make an exception for Trepan. 

After a solid wash with solvent, wax, and polish (and a small box of magnesium and mercury sweets) he was ready. Ghost had decided to wear some of the makeup Overlord had... gifted him, using it to highlight some parts of his frame. If he was going somewhere fancy with a pretty mech he needed to at least look the part. 

And, in case the place didn't serve anything vintage, he had found some old Vosian high-grade (though he hadn't been able to find one that had mercury). So, with his frame now all shiny and done up, perfect for a fancy night out. He hoped he remembered enough of the manners he needed to not stick out like a sore thumb any more than he already would.

Ghostspire stepped into the main lobby of the restaurant, slowly scanning around for his companion for the night.  

@mnemoiisms

[egcdeath]

out in the open

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: your wedding night doesn’t go as smoothly as you expect it to. succession au - tomshiv adjacent (previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3)

word count: 8.8k

warnings: failmarriage, fluff in the beginning, cheating, angst, jealousy, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol and smoking, suggestive content, insecurity, patrick is kinda the worst in this. he does get better though.

author’s note: full disclaimer things are pretty angsty and they only get angstier from here. cheating is a major plot point from this point forward. there will be a few happier moments but it’s mostly bad vibes and tension from this point on.

i say this with every fic i post in this universe but i truly could not have written this without the help of my succession anon!! weddingnightgate (WNG) is such a big moment in this au and they really helped me get my thoughts in order and helped me world build. i hope you all enjoy the upcoming pain!

When you were young, you always dreamed about your wedding. You fantasized about a huge venue somewhere halfway around the world that would easily fit all of your closest friends and family members and of celebrity guests who would give you well wishes for the marriage and smiled at you in spite of their envy at your beautiful event. You imagined a gorgeous, intricate dress with a train so long that you’d need assistance going down the aisle, a cake the size of your tallest guest, and a groom who was as handsome as he was loving, pressing the promise of True Love’s Kiss onto your lips after he read you his vows.

Maybe your enthusiasm for weddings was fueled by a few too many movies where the princess found her prince charming and lived happily ever after with him, but you still fell in love with the idea of love, and the thought that a wedding should be as beautiful as the love itself was.

You would never forget the first wedding you attended, despite being so young that you shouldn’t have really recalled it. You somehow managed to worm your way into being the flower girl at your aunt’s wedding, skipping excitedly down the aisle of the beachside venue, tossing flowers with reckless abandon. As you watched the rest of the ceremony from the safety of your mother’s hip, you couldn’t help but to imagine yourself being the one to walk down the aisle someday. 

Much like your first wedding memory, you also couldn’t forget the first time you learned about divorce. Though you were young, the memory of your best friend crying next to you during recess as she sobbed out the news that her parents were splitting forever stuck out in your mind. You’d been fed the idea that love was strong and everlasting for so long, that the very notion that there were some things that love couldn’t withstand rocked you to your core. 

From that point on, you became more grounded in your approach to love. Love was rarely a fairytale, and it was naive for you to assume that your future wedding would be one either. 

As the years went by, you grew more realistic about your expectations for the future. You found a boyfriend who you dated throughout the latter half of your undergraduate years and through your time in business school, and fully expected to settle down with him—though you knew you’d be settling in the most literal sense. While he was a stable figure in your life, he was boring, and his aspirations in life for both you and himself didn’t align at all with what you saw yourself doing. He wanted a wife, and you wanted to make a name for yourself doing the work that was meaningful to you.

When he got down on one knee in front of you, you realized that you had two options in front of you: follow your own dreams or follow his. 

Naivety be damned, you chose yourself and never looked back. 

In your pursuit of making your non-love related aspirations come true, you abandoned all hope that your pipe-dream of a fantasy wedding would ever come to fruition. It occasionally felt like your hopes were incompatible—to be a successful businesswoman meant giving up all prospects of a romantic life. It seemed like everyone you encountered was put off by your lack of work-life balance, or wanted to hunt you for sport and turn you into a trophy wife. 

You’d practically given up all hope by the time you met Patrick, fully expecting to be able to use him for a brief fling and a connection to get into his family’s company. What you weren’t expecting was to find someone whose company you genuinely enjoyed, who understood you on a level you hadn’t experienced with anyone else, and a love that occasionally left you wondering if you were a protagonist in the movies you loved watching as a girl. 

If someone told you that years after meeting Patrick, that one day you would be gazing into his eyes with tears in yours as you listened to his vows, or telling him that you do take him to be your husband, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘till death did you two part.

Your wedding ceremony felt straight out of your girlish dreams, with Patrick’s beautiful family castle serving as the venue, paparazzi-worthy guests, a dress that felt like a direct product of your wildest imagination, and a groom that seemed to be as close to a prince charming as reality could get. 

You were on cloud nine throughout the ceremony, basking in every single moment. You felt like you were floating by the time you got to the reception, your brain in the clouds as you and your now-husband cut your massive cake and gave toasts. 

It was all a blur in the best way possible, your elation making what you thought might be an embarrassing moment of a first dance exciting, and the subsequent socializing with guests substantially more bearable. 

What was slightly less bearable was the speed at which you were separated from your husband, the two of you occasionally catching the others eye from across the room, but otherwise being separated from surprisingly demanding guests who wanted to wish you luck on your marriage or excitedly share how amazing they found the ceremony to be. 

Occasionally, you were able to squeeze in a brief moment with your spouse, bringing him a flute of champagne and momentarily pulling him away from an exceptionally chatty shareholder, but you seemed to be frequently whisked away from each other. 

After what felt like a lifetime apart from each other, you felt the familiar, comforting warmth of Patrick’s hand on your lower back as he approached you from behind. When he announced to the extended family members standing across from you that he needed a moment alone with you, you almost leapt with joy. Nothing seemed more appealing than a private conversation with him after a long night of socializing with friends and colleagues. 

It almost felt ironic that during an event that should’ve been focused on the two of you as a pair, you were separated and kept apart by people with business pitches and opposing interests, excited to hop onto whatever opportunity your union might bring them. 

Patrick took you by surprise as he led you up the stairs and to your bedroom. It seemed a little early to begin your wedding night festivities, but if he was really that enthusiastic about it, you were certain that you could share some of his excitement. 

“Thanks for getting us out of there,” you commented as you shut the door behind you. “So much for not talking about work at the wedding. I guess it’s too much to ask for one day to celebrate you being my husband before talking about the business again.”

You walked over to the vanity, preparing to touch up your makeup. You shot a glance over at your partner, who cautiously sat himself down on your bed, fidgeting with his hands as he did so. Not paying him any mind, you began to reapply your lipstick in the mirror and looked at his reflection, catching that he seemed to be in deep thought, but not thinking too much of it. It was probably something a shareholder told him. Maybe his sister was planning yet another attempt at a hostile takeover of the business. 

“Husband. Wow, you’re my husband now. That feels so crazy to say. Husband, husband, husband,” you mused, a ball of excited energy.  “Well, husband, what did you pull me in to talk about? Is it Sherry’s dress? It’s really hideous. I can’t believe she would wear something like that to our wedding,” you continued to ramble. “Or do you want a sneak peak of what I’ve got going on under this dress?”

You were shocked to find Patrick mostly unresponsive to your rapid words. He was never one to turn down the opportunity to gossip about his social circle or flirt with you. You pulled your attention away from yourself in the mirror and turned your head back to look at your husband, only to be met with a mostly unreadable expression, apart from the hint of a sad smile on his face. 

Suddenly, things didn’t feel so fun. For some unexplained reason, you felt a small pit appear in the depths of your stomach. While you didn’t know exactly what was wrong, something obviously didn’t feel right. There was no reason for your partner to be looking as unsettled as he did on his own wedding night. 

“You’re not having second thoughts already, are you?” you stood up and began to approach him from where he was sitting on the bed, making it more apparent to you that his brows were drawn together in what could only be the beginning of a frown. 

“Of course not,” he assured you, though guilt was written all over his face. You weren’t sure how you should interpret your husband looking like a child who just broke an expensive vase on your wedding night, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “But I need to tell you something.”

“What?” you laughed nervously, the small pit that appeared in your stomach growing into a slightly larger pit. As much as you wanted to dismiss it as nothing, the heavy tension hanging in the air warned you that the odds of his confession being nothing were growing slimmer and slimmer with each passing moment.  

“Uh,” he paused as if he was considering his next words very carefully—almost as if he didn’t want to say them at all. You desperately wanted him to speak, rather than keep you hanging. With your nerves exponentially growing with every passing second, you began to feel like if he didn’t say anything soon, you might throw up all over your reception dress.  

“Patrick, please spit it out. You’re kinda scaring me,” you could already feel yourself growing upset, despite the fact that he hadn’t said a single word to indicate what was going on with him. Your heart quickened in your chest as you anticipated his next words, despite not having a clue about what might come out of his mouth.  

“We always said that if something happened, we could handle it like adults,” the statement was vague and simple, yet Patrick seemed to be choking it out. His cryptic message rattled around in your brain as you desperately searched for meaning in them. Before you could even begin to ask him what he meant, you registered the dismissive, callous language. 

Though he didn’t say it often, he had confused you with those very words before—the verbiage alarmingly reminiscent of what he told you before your bachelorette party, or when you brought up the lack of an infidelity clause in his prenup. 

If anything ever happened with anyone else, we could both handle it. We’re adults and we can handle things like adults.

Though his words were curious, you dismissed them at the time, never expecting that to be an issue. Of all of your problems with Patrick—his difficulty expressing his emotions, his complicated relationship with his family, his lack of experience in love—you never expected infidelity to be one of those problems. 

You swallowed, your saliva feeling thick and poisonous as it slowly crept down your throat. “Honey, what do you mean?”

Patrick didn’t speak, looking down at the pristinely folded sheets in front of him rather than at you. “I’m sorry,” was all that he managed to get out. 

You looked at Patrick blankly, waiting for him to tell you that whatever you were assuming wasn’t true or that he was pulling some sort of cruel prank on you. Instead, all you were met with was the sound of blood urgently rushing through your ears and the faint bassline of whatever song the DJ was playing at your reception. 

“You know that love is complicated for me,” he looked in your direction, but couldn’t sustain eye contact with you. “Can we be adults about this?”

Once it became clear to you what exactly Patrick was trying to tell you, your knees gave out on you, the rest of your body overwhelmed with the unfathomable information that your brain was trying to process. Patrick cheated on you—and he was telling you just hours after you got married. 

The truth of the situation sucked the air right out of your lungs and the strength right out of your body. Your knees buckled under you, and you desperately seeked out anything you could sit on. You settled on the foot of the bed, across from where your husband nervously sat. 

“Fuck,” you dug the palms of your hands into your eyes, surely smudging the makeup on your eyelids as you attempted to collect your thoughts. “Who was it?”

“It didn’t mean anything to me,” he pathetically attempted to explain away. It all sounded like gibberish to you. For all you knew, your husband was speaking a totally different language to you. 

Despite your question and Patrick’s non-answer, you somehow felt like you knew exactly who he’d been with. The answer was all over his discomfort when he saw you talking to the woman without him by your side, and the way she sized you up and attempted to psych you out of marrying Patrick not even 24 hours ago. 

“Was it Tashi?” you asked, not even listening to his empty words and keeping your face frighteningly neutral. You spoke the words like you were playing a round of Guess Who, calm and even despite the budding feeling of dread in your stomach. 

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. His deafening silence was answer enough

“Can I kick her out?” you asked with an alarmingly stable tone, still mostly unable to process this information, but knowing that it wasn’t good. 

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, head still hung and unable to make eye contact with you. 

As you took in the truly depressing sight in front of you—your husband’s hunched over posture, a shame so strong that he couldn’t even look at you, and his clipped, short answers—you couldn’t deny that you were tempted to comfort him. In any other situation, if Patrick was feeling a fraction of the negative emotion he seemed to be feeling in that moment, you would instantly be at his side, holding his hand reassuringly or holding him close in a way that told him that if no one else was there for him, you would be, but you weren’t sure you could legitimize his bad behavior with such a response. 

Instinctually, you reached out to touch him like you’d done a thousand times before, giving him a hug before a big event or spooning him after a family member said something that got under his skin, but you instantly reprimanded yourself. Despite how sad he looked, Patrick was the one who hurt you. You were the one who deserved comfort. 

You opted to pat Patrick’s back instead, a strange and impersonal action. For a moment, you felt less like his wife and more like a practically estranged family member, not sure how to greet you after meeting you for the first time three Thanksgivings ago. 

Your husband barely reacted to the stiff action, only looking at you wordlessly with glossed-over eyes. You got up from the foot of the bed and left wordlessly and neutrally, a robot whose only orders were to get out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you. 

The moment the door closed, the next goal settled into your mind—you couldn’t let Tashi spend another second in the venue, socializing with your family and drinking the wine that your parents so kindly provided to the wedding, as if she hadn’t been partaking in an affair with your husband. 

You felt half a bride and half a zombie as you left the confines of the bedroom and wandered the hallways. You were stone faced as you made your way back to the reception, trying to wrap your head and heart around devastating information that was shared with you at the most inopportune time possible. 

You made a slow march down the stairs, movement hindered by your dress, and imagined what you might say to Tashi once you saw her. You should’ve known something was off from the start. You should’ve trusted the bad feeling you had when she sized you up at the bar, smirking at you like the cat who got the cream before feeding you anecdotes about how sleazy your husband used to be for no apparent reason. You should’ve trusted that feeling when Patrick rushed over to pull you away.

You wished you paid attention when Patrick faintly smelled of feminine perfume when you surprised him by coming back from a business trip earlier than anticipated, or when you noticed a bracelet that didn’t belong to you sitting on your coffee table, one that disappeared the very next day. It was so easy to write the signs off at the time–the fragrance of your personal chef and the jewelry of one of his sisters–but it no longer felt that simple. Patrick was a lot of things, but you never expected that a cheater was one of those things.

The thought of Patrick with someone else made you nauseous, especially in your own home. You faintly wondered if they’d fucked in your bed or on the couch. If the answer was yes to either, you desperately wanted to burn the pieces of furniture. In fact, that would be the first thing you set out to do when you returned home after your honeymoon. Maybe you would even beg Patrick to move to a new place, one not haunted by the memories of him and another woman. 

That was, if your relationship even survived through the honeymoon. Let alone the night. You didn’t have a clue what your next steps would be. Would you be the fool who stays with a man who proved himself to be disloyal? Or would you be the fool who offered herself to the wrath of one of the most powerful families in the world? You would lose your husband, your job, and your livelihood in one fell swoop, surely being banished back to your family home in Minnesota, destined to be a receptionist at your father’s law firm for the rest of your life. 

The entire situation felt surreal in the worst possible way. You couldn’t believe that while you were dealing with the aftermath of this information, Tashi was waltzing around at your reception. More than that, you couldn’t believe the information itself: Patrick cheated. Your fiancé cheated. Your husband cheated on you. 

The same Patrick who became a groomzilla, laser-focused on giving you your dream wedding, cheated. The same man who confessed that he didn’t know what love felt like before he met you cheated on you. Your husband, who went out of his way to do anything to make you happy, even at the expense of his very powerful family, hadn’t been loyal to you. 

None of it made sense. Maybe you would walk back into the room and your guests would jump out from behind tables and reveal that this was all a cruel joke—a little hazing as you officially became a Zweig—their laughter filling up the room at the thought that you would ever believe something as ridiculous as Patrick cheating on you. 

You bit back bile as you walked into the room, the party continuing on the same way it had before you left and before you reentered—no prank to be found. The cacophony of loud music and the chatter of your guests filling your ears once more—what felt fun and exciting just moments before, now being far too overstimulating for someone trying to process information that could fundamentally alter the course of their relationship. You did your best to block out all of the extra noise and focus on your goal at hand. 

Find Tashi. Send her home.

You weren’t sure what you would actually do when you saw her. Would you yell at her? Slap her for being a homewrecker? Cry at the sight of her? Laugh at the absurdity of your husband telling you that he’d been having an affair with her on your wedding night?

Peripherally, you heard someone call your name excitedly, only slightly pulling you out of your trance. Still, you couldn’t find it in you to acknowledge whatever excited friend or family member as your eyes set on your target. Tashi Duncan, Patrick’s coworker and ex-girlfriend.

Where you admired her beauty and confidence just a day before, you found you now resented every positive aspect about her. As she stood by a table and talked to one of Patrick’s sisters, surely bored out of her mind by the delusional ramblings about his sister someday being the president, she nodded and smiled diplomatically. 

As you really began to think about it, you realized that she was the perfect candidate to be Patrick’s wife. She came from a background similar to his, his sisters liked her far more than they liked you—though that didn’t mean much—and physically, she seemed to be exactly your husband’s type. 

Part of you wondered if she was feeling as miserable as you were; if she’d spent the day imagining your wedding to be her own, if her own jealousy was blinding her the way that yours currently was blinding you, or if she’d begged Patrick not to marry you during their work meeting the previous night. The other part of you wondered if she thought of you as pathetic as you currently felt—a stupid woman so blinded by her own love that she overlooked every beaming, bright red flag.

Your pace quickened as you walked towards Tashi, heels clicking annoyingly as they marked your pace. As you made your way to the table, you found yourself growing more anxious, the first real feeling you’d felt since Patrick shared with you the truth about his infidelity.

“Hey,” you greeted Tashi and Patrick’s sister, voice surprisingly even for how agitated you were. “Mind if I chat with Tashi?” 

“Go ahead,” Cornelia shrugged. “Let’s stay in touch?” she asked Tashi, who politely agreed and watched the other woman walk off. 

Tashi opened her mouth to speak to you, presumably to comment on something asinine about the wedding, or to make an observation about your wedding that you’d already heard a thousand times that night. If you weren’t so upset, you would make a bet with yourself on whether she’d tell you how beautiful the wedding was, or how beautiful you and your husband looked at the altar.

“Your housing for the night fell through,” you explained in a very level tone. It wasn’t the best excuse, but it was what came out of your mouth.

“Oh?” she asked, sounding more than a little skeptical, before lifting her drink to her lips. “Do you know where else I might be able to find lodging at this hour?”

“No,” you replied quickly and with ease. “Actually, it’d probably be best if you just went home now.”

“Home like…?” she trailed off and eyed you curiously. 

“Like back to New York. I’m sure you can find a flight.”

She laughed in slight disbelief. “You realize this is a work function for me, right? I have work to do.”

“I’m sure you can do that work back home,” you dismissed, not backing down. By now, it was clear that Tashi was putting together the pieces of what you knew. In fact, you could pinpoint the exact moment when it occurred to her why the two of you were having this conversation in the first place.

Maybe it was the lack of your now-husband beside you, or the barely concealed emotion on your face. Regardless of what was your biggest tell on the situation, you continued to stare her down, resenting the way her lips shifted into a small smile, as if she still had the upper hand and knew something that you didn’t. It was almost as if she found the whole ordeal to be a little amusing, which only bothered you more. 

“No need to make a scene at your wedding. I’ll be on my way.” She lifted her glass up once again to finish the drink off, but you stopped her. 

You returned intense eye contact with her as you took the stemware right out of her hands and put it to your own lips, finishing the drink in a few large gulps. Though your action was impulsive, it felt like somewhat of a necessity. You desperately needed the liquid distraction from your less-than-ideal situation, and you didn’t want to give her an excuse to linger at your party a single moment longer than she needed to. 

She continued to stare at you, her expression somewhere in the middle of being impressed and weirded out. “Alright then. Well, congratulations on the wedding.”

“Fuck off,” you spat out, turning on your heel and walking away without bothering to see if she stayed or left. 

You made your rounds around the reception, smiling and talking to your guests with a fake smile plastered on your face. The shock of Patrick’s initial confession wore off shortly after you told Tashi off, but you still couldn’t help but feel completely numb to the situation. How else were you supposed to react when you found out the love of your life was sleeping with someone else? 

You continued to man the reception on your own, occasionally scanning the room but not catching a glimpse of your husband. You wondered if he was still in your bedroom, head in his hands as he wondered if he just opened a Pandora’s box on your relationship, or if Tashi went to go find him to discuss how poorly you reacted to the information. For all you knew, the two of them could be laughing at you or having sex in your wedding bed at the same time that you attempted to pretend that everything was perfectly fine. You grew faint at the mere thought. 

Eventually, you felt a familiar hand on the small of your back, something that typically was a welcome, comforting gesture. Instead, you wanted to flinch away from his hand like it was hot. You couldn’t believe that Patrick had the nerve to touch you like everything was fine after dropping such devastating information on you. Then again, at least he wasn’t hooking up with Tashi one last time. 

Still, even under the spell of a sadness that hadn’t quite settled in yet, you leaned into his touch instinctively. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t feel as comfortable as it did a few hours ago. 

“Such a beautiful ceremony,” a family friend of Patrick’s gushed to you. “You two have something really special.”

You felt Patrick’s eyes sear into you, desperately pleading for you to look back into them and show him that everything was going to be okay. That what you had was special enough that you’d be able to move past this. Like adults, as he said to you earlier.

You weren’t so sure that you could. 

The rest of the night moved painfully slowly. Where the two of you socialized separately before his private conversation with you, he seemed to be attached to your hip now, bringing you apology offers of champagne flutes and hor d'oeuvres.

Though he pleaded with you to handle your situation like adults, you wanted to act more like a petulant child. If you had it your way, you would reject his offerings of food by tossing them onto the floor, or throw a glass of sticky alcohol in his face as if you were a Real Housewife. 

If you had it your way, Patrick wouldn’t have cheated on you in the first place, and you’d be celebrating your wedding without the baggage of uncertainty for the future of your relationship. 

As you walked through the reception, you weren’t particularly angry or sad, you just felt numb. There was a strange concession in knowing that what happened in the past already happened, and that there was no way for you to change your husband’s behavior. For a moment, you wondered if the numbness was a symptom of the shock that was Patrick’s confession, or you would feel the dull thud of nothingness for the rest of your life. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as you watched the last of your guests filtered out of the venue, relieved to finally drop the façade of being a happy newlywed and to embrace the true feeling of shock that had been biting at you all night.  

Somehow managing to break away from your suddenly very clingy spouse, you wasted no time gathering an unopened bottle of wine for yourself, along with a cigarette and a lighter, which you unceremoniously exchanged with a caterer for a Venmo payment. You then headed outside to a balcony that overlooked a beautiful sprawling garden. 

You looked out on the neatly trimmed hedges and the bench where you sat with Patrick not even twenty-four hours ago and distantly thought about how perfectly the night should’ve gone. You got married at a beautiful venue, had every detail down to the positioning of napkins meticulously planned, and most importantly, were marrying someone you genuinely loved and couldn’t see yourself living without. 

It was all rather devastating now, to see how just a few words managed to ruin what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. 

You took a swig from the bottle, lamenting the fact that his affair partner had been drinking this very wine earlier that night. At the thought of Tashi, you took yet another hefty swig. 

Just as you reached for the lighter to light the cigarette you so desperately needed, Patrick burst through the doors of the balcony, slightly out of breath and sweat beading on his forehead. In between his heavy breaths, you swore you caught a sigh of relief. 

You couldn’t say that you were pleased to see him—after all, you’d escaped to the balcony to get a little time alone and to think through the night—but as you took in his dramatic entrance and disheveled appearance, it became abundantly clear to you that he’d been urgently looking for you. 

“Want some?” you asked, gesturing to the bottle. Your question was more than just an offer for a drink, but a peace treaty, offering Patrick to stay outside with you despite your more complicated feelings towards him. 

“Sure,” he agreed, still slightly out of breath. He collected himself as you passed him the bottle, locking eyes with you as he took a swig from the expensive drink. It felt like time moved a little slower as you watched his lips wrap around the opening of the bottle and the way his Adam's apple bobbed while the drink went down. 

You suddenly realized that complicated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt towards Patrick. You loved him more than anything, and you were sure that you needed him in your life—but beneath the thick layers of numbness was a reservoir of hurt, far deeper than you ever imagined you could harbor for the man. 

He passed the bottle back to you, his hands gently brushing over yours. Momentarily, you felt scandalized by the action, unsure if you should feel your cheeks heating up from the small touch or if you should flinch away from it. By the time the brief moment was over, you hadn’t done either, electing to set your gaze back over the rail instead of at your partner. 

Patrick stood silently beside you, not requesting anything more to drink or even attempting to make small talk. It seemed that he was just as aware as you were that he’d changed your entire dynamic with just a few words. You wondered if he realized just how much he’d fucked both of you by fucking someone else. 

You shivered in the cold night, your dress not providing you much coverage in the elements. If your wedding night had gone any differently, Patrick would’ve offered you his suit jacket, draping the item over your shoulders and kissing you sweetly. Then again, if the night had gone differently, you likely wouldn’t be shivering on the balcony in the first place. 

You squatted to set down the bottle on the ground and rediscovered the cigarette and lighter. Though you weren’t usually one to smoke, you desperately needed it after the shitshow that was your wedding night.  

Though you put the stick to your lips, you struggled to light the cigarette, the frigid breeze making everything slightly more difficult. It didn’t help that you hadn’t smoked since you were a teenager, giggling with your friends as you clumsily attempted and failed to light up the stick, the match pinched between your fingertips quickly burning down. The contrast between the silly memory and your far less silly reality felt jarring, to say the least.  

“Here, let me,” Patrick said softly, taking the lighter from you and cupping his hand around the tip of the cigarette. You tried not to look at him too closely as you listened to the soft clicking sound of the lighter. Though he should’ve focused on the action so he didn’t burn his finger tips or the palm of his hand blocking the wind, he didn’t seem to be able to look at anything but you. The light of the flame briefly illuminated both of your faces, momentarily giving you a better look at his sad eyes. 

You inhaled as the flame touched the tip, and turned your head to exhale the smoke, not wanting to blow it in the face of your partner or have to spend another second under the scrutiny of his intense eye contact.

Even as you looked away and into the garden below, you could feel Patrick’s eyes burning into you. You were sure that if you looked back over at him, you would see him looking particularly downtrodden, lips parted for words that were on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite say yet, and eyebrows drawn together in a way that only seemed to highlight the sadness in his eyes. 

Unspoken questions lingered in the air like the smoke from the cigarette dangling from your lips. Though you didn’t care for the smell, you were pretty sure you preferred the smoke to the questions. 

Finally, a quiet question was spoken into the air,  “Can I?” Patrick asked, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips. 

“Sure,” you replied noncommittally as you pulled the cigarette away from you and passed it to your husband. Electing to watch him instead of the unchanging garden, you observed as Patrick’s lips closed over the space where yours had just been, covering the hint of a lipstick stain that you’d left on it. After a long drag, he passed the cigarette back to you, his hand brushing softly over yours once more as you did so. 

This pattern continued, a heavy silence falling between the two of you as you shared the cigarette, your hands caressing the other’s softly.

“Here,” you murmured as you approached the filter. Instead of passing it back to Patrick, you brought it up to his lips, watching him intently as he breathed in the smoke. 

For a moment, all you could see was his face, illuminated by the burning end of the cigarette, pupils blown with something you couldn’t quite place. You weren’t sure if you wanted to ravish him right there on the balcony or push him off of it.

He blew the smoke right back into your face, electing to still share the last of the cigarette with you. You wondered if that meant anything. It probably didn’t. 

The two of you stood looking at each other, staring wordlessly as you waited for the other person to move a muscle or say something—anything. For a moment, you considered telling Patrick that you wanted an annulment. But then again, that wasn’t exactly the truth. 

“I’m going to bed,” you broke the silence with your announcement. “I need to change out of this dress.”

You wished it were that simple. You desperately wanted to scrub the day off of you and to pinch yourself until you woke up. Surely, this couldn’t be your actual wedding night. Maybe you could wake up in the morning and find that this was all a bad dream—the manifestation of anxiety before your big day.

But, as Patrick trailed behind you in the hallway as if you would disappear if you left his sight, you were pretty sure that this was the reality. You wouldn’t wake up and find that your husband had been loyal to you. 

Your return to the room was a silent one. The moment you stepped foot through the door, it felt like you were back in that horrible moment; like Patrick was moments from revealing to you that Tashi was the tip of the iceberg. 

Bile rose in your throat once more. You made a beeline to the bathroom, hoping that the change of scenery might halt your thoughts altogether. 

You stepped out of the bathroom with an entirely different mindset than what you had as you entered. Sure, your wedding night wasn’t at all what you expected it to be, but it didn’t mean that you couldn’t put it back on the right track. In the bathroom, you slipped on a silky nightie, what you hoped would be a reminder to both of you that this wasn’t any old regular night, but your wedding night. Though, with the day you just had, you weren’t so sure that either of you would be up for a particularly romantic night. You guessed it couldn’t hurt. 

You left the bathroom as a woman on a mission, your eyes set on Patrick as you crossed the bedroom floor to get to him. Though he’d been laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling like it had the secrets to the universe written on it, the sound of your entrance drew his attention over to you. You gently bit your lower lip and hoped that your face said ‘sexy’ rather than ‘so nervous you might be sick.’

His eyes stayed locked on you as you crawled into bed, and you hoped once more that the action of you moving towards him on your hands and knees didn’t appear as desperate as you felt on the inside. 

It felt like your evening consisted of one desperate plea after another: Please don’t do this to me. Please just pretend that everything’s fine. Please don’t leave me. 

He followed your lead as you trailed your hand up his arm and looked at him as seductively as you could manage before pushing him down onto the bed and straddling his lap. Distantly, you wondered how Tashi imitated things with him—if she did anything that Patrick liked more about her than you. You did your best to push that thought away, but failed miserably. 

Mechanically, you ran your hands through his hair and kissed him passionately. You tried to ignore the lump in your throat and reminded yourself that it was just Patrick. Things weren’t all that different, except for the fact that he was your husband now—and that he cheated on you.

You tried once more to push that thought out of your mind as you moved your hips against his lap, but your attempts were in vain. It certainly didn’t help that as you kissed him, you tasted the cigarette you shared earlier in his breath—an unwelcome reminder of the awkward tension that lingered between the two of you after he shared the truth about his infidelity. And surely, it was just your mind, but his lips almost tasted like the chapstick of another woman. 

Suddenly, all you could think about was Tashi with your husband. Him and Tashi in your bedroom, or in a hotel room, or on your couch. Did she do anything special that drove him crazy? What did she have that you didn’t? 

Your body said one thing, but your brain said something completely different. You did your best to power through the thoughts of your husband being with another woman, but you were beginning to realize that when it came to cheating, you weren’t all that tough. You bit down on Patrick’s lip in what you hoped would be a light nibble, but the taste of iron quickly filled your mouth. 

You slowed down your movements as your thoughts sped up before you gave up entirely. You supposed it was a classic case of mind over matter, and your mind was not nearly as strong as any of your physical urges. 

You shifted off of Patrick far later than you should’ve, feeling like a complete and utter failure. You couldn’t even do the one thing you should’ve been able to do during your wedding night. No wonder he found solace in someone else’s body. 

“I’m sorry,” you said weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

It took you rolling off of Patrick to realize that his face was damp, eyes glossy with a thin layer of tears threatening to fall. The pit in your stomach that had been steadily growing since Patrick pulled you aside to tell you something finally came to a head when you realized that your husband was crying.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, his voice cracking on the last syllable of his question. 

A fresh tear rolled down his cheek, which was then followed by a few other droplets. He turned his head away from you and wiped them away quickly so you wouldn’t notice them, but the damage was already done. 

You’d never seen Patrick cry before—not when you watched sad movies that left you bawling, not when the two of you watched advertisements for puppies in shelters, not even when he thought his dad might be dying. To see him shed tears over you felt particularly unsettling. 

“Patrick?” you said his name softly, like he was delicate and going to break. 

“I should be the one who’s sorry,” he looked towards you once more, eyes now rimmed with red. “I ruined everything already. I'm so sorry.”

This was a complete wild card on top of a stack of wild cards. If someone told you that your wedding night would end with your husband telling you he cheated on you, a pathetic failed attempt at sex, then watching your partner cry for the first time in front of you, you would’ve laughed in their face. 

His crying continued, becoming slightly more intense as sorrow racked through his body. You’d never been in a situation like this before, so you were completely unsure of what to do. 

With all prior restraint to show him physical affection gone, you awkwardly slotted your arms around your husband. He automatically leaned into you, burying his face in your shoulder as he continued to shed quiet tears. Your shoulder quickly grew damp as you threaded your fingers through his curls, the repetitive petting being just as soothing for you as it was for him. 

Despite it all, you still felt a general sense of nothing at all. You were beginning to grow concerned, knowing that deep down there were certainly emotions that weren’t ready to approach the surface. You worried about what it might look like once those feelings finally came out, but that was the least of your worries when it came to your weeping husband. 

Patrick continued to cry quietly, the only sound in the room being his soft, occasional sniffles. You couldn’t even place how you felt or how long you sat there stone faced as you cradled your husband. 

Eventually, the tears on your shoulder dried and the intervals between sniffles grew further and further. Soon, the soft sounds of weeping turned into the long and deep breaths of rest. Between you playing with his hair and holding him, he must’ve fallen asleep. You couldn’t really blame him—given your eventful day, your all-nighter the previous day, and the energy it took for him to cry. 

You gently laid Patrick back down on his side of the bed, pulling a blanket over his chest and pushing back the hair on his forehead to press a kiss to him. He stirred slightly against the forehead kiss, but didn’t seem to wake up all the way. Even when your feelings were complicated towards the man, you couldn’t help being affectionate towards him. In some ways, you felt like you needed that affection just as much as he did. 

You let out a long sigh as the reality of everything truly began to set in, and you no longer had to be strong for your weeping partner. You couldn’t wrap your head around the sight of Patrick crying for the first time, or the fact that he cheated on you. You flicked off the bedside lamp, the only source of light in your otherwise darkened bedroom. 

You rolled over in bed and laid on your back, setting your hands on your stomach and staring up at the ceiling. You traced your eyes over the pattern of the ceiling, though it was dark and not all that clear. You wondered if you looked at it long enough, if you’d be able to make some sense out of it. You glanced over at Patrick and wondered the same thing. 

You just couldn’t understand why he’d cheat on you. You’d always been under the impression that he was just as happy in your relationship as you were. Despite his promiscuous past, he never seemed like the type of person to not be loyal to you.

You noticed a teardrop trail down his cheek in his sleep, and you gently thumbed it away. The small movement turned into you tracing a line down his nose and over his lips, then over his eyebrows and back down through the few freckles that dotted his face. Maybe if you watched him long enough, if you learned every detail of his face, someone would reveal to you why he’d done something so illogical and cruel. 

You worried about how the two of you could move forward from something like this. Though Patrick always approached the topic of infidelity with a dismissive attitude, cheating had always been a deal breaker for you in your past relationships. It shattered your trust in a way that was so foundational, you couldn’t fathom a world where your relationship with Patrick stayed exactly the same after this. 

Part of you knew already that moving forward, you’d constantly wonder if he was genuinely working late or if he was having an affair, or if his eye was wandering at events despite you standing by his side. And that was just trust when it came to relationships—obviously his lie was far deeper than just that. Now, you knew that Patrick had the capacity to hold a secret that massive from you, then share it at the worst possible time. 

In fact, his timing felt so terrible that you momentarily wondered if it was some sort of power play. Was Patrick trying to remind you that you weren’t equals in this partnership? Was he trying to manipulate you by only sharing this information to you after you were married to him and couldn’t easily call everything off? 

Your stomach turned at the possibility that Patrick wasn’t really who he said he was, and that you’d been baited and switched. You recalled the first time you met Patrick’s family, how he switched on a dime and became far more calculated and cruel to them than you’d ever seen him be with you. Was that the realest version of your husband, and the person he was with you just a façade? Was this some sort of long game he was playing with his family to piss a few people off? Did Patrick even love you?  

For the first time in your relationship, you felt like you didn’t know who you were sleeping next to. Surely, this couldn’t be the same Patrick who you set out to have a quick hook up with, and ended up talking to him for hours. It couldn’t be the same Patrick who held you tight at night and gave you kisses every morning in your kitchen. The same Patrick from your vows a few hours ago, whose hands shook as he read from notecards and declared his love for you.

You frowned as you looked over Patrick once more. You resented how he was able to sleep so peacefully after inflicting such hurt on you. Did he even understand how destroyed you were? You couldn’t see yourself sleeping through the night in the foreseeable future, your head too filled with questions about your relationship and questions about his relationship with her. Would they continue the affair? Would they still work together after this, leaving you to wonder for the rest of your life if they were still going behind your back?

You desperately wished the thoughts would stop, but they kept coming, punctuated by the sounds of Patrick’s soft snores behind you. 

By the time the sun began to peek through the blinds, your hand was on Patrick’s face once again. You wondered how it was possible for him to hurt someone he loved as much as he loved you, if his definition of love was so skewed by a lifetime of abuse labeled as love from his parents, and siblings who used cruelty as a form of affection. 

Maybe you should’ve listened to the warnings everyone gave you, from your parents who warned that your husband and his family may be more than you bargained for, from his sisters who never seemed to be able to fully wrap their head around Patrick committing to someone, let alone you. Maybe you should’ve even listened to Tashi’s coded warning about his inability to commit and stay loyal. It seemed like everyone saw the fate of your relationship coming except you. 

With the early morning light illuminating the room, things felt a little clearer for you. Beneath the numbness that protected you the previous night was a more painful undercurrent of hurt that was already beginning to eat away at you. 

For the past several years of your life, you hadn’t had to deal with any painful feelings on your own. Patrick was always there beside you to hold you tight and reassure you that everything would be okay. As you laid next to him, you realized that despite all the pain he’d inflicted on you, all you really wanted was to be held by him. 

Knowing that he was sleeping peacefully beside you, you opted to hold him, draping your body over his and pulling yourself as close as you could manage to him. You leaned your ear against his back, taking in the warmth he gave you and listening to his heart beat. As the two of your breaths and heartbeats began to match the other’s pace, you lamented that even now, your hearts beat as one. 

For the first time that evening, your eye prickled with the threat of tears. 

You lost track of how long you held your husband, but it was long enough to notice the pattern of his breath changing. You’d woken up beside him enough times to recognize that he was clearly awake, yet he made no other indication to you that he was awake. He wanted you to hold him. You wondered if he thought this might be the last time you ever do that for him. You wondered if it was the last time you’d ever do that for him. 

The two of you pretended to be asleep despite the fact that you were both obviously awake, but no one commented on anything. After your arms began to grow numb, you turned your back to Patrick, hoping that he would return the favor and give you what you really wanted. You were pleased to find that he just as eagerly wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and breathing quietly in your ear. 

The two of you sat in complete silence, pretending you didn’t know what the other person was doing. Somehow, it felt like that was about to become a recurring theme in your relationship.

[strawberryspence]

Because I am obsessed with the famous trope here’s another one that kept me up all night.

Steve and Eddie dated right after Vecna in ‘86 and it’s perfect. They date each other and it’s like two puzzles clicking together. But they’re young, foolish and they both have mountains of trauma. And sometimes, the passion and love, just isn’t enough to keep a relationship going.

They have a messy break up that has Eddie packing all his stuff up in ‘88. Eddie goes to LA or New York, either way that’s where he gets discovered. He then goes on to write some very angsty and angry rock/metal music about the break-up that gets him up on the map.

Steve hates it. He hates it with every fibre of his soul because it’s one thing when you and you ex still have the same friends and have to be civil with each other, but it’s a whole other thing when you open the radio and this man you dated, this man you loved and cared for and failed is just out here singing it for the whole world to hear.

And yeah listen, it’s petty and dumb. But Steve writes his own fucking songs, it’s not the direct response to Eddie’s song but it’s close. By that time it’s already ‘90 and Eddie’s made a whole name and career out of their relationship. Steve writes the songs, he sings, and he sends the damn demo to almost fifty different companies. And he gets picked up by one company.

Steve takes the pop star route, and with his looks and his somehow amazing vocals, by ‘94 Steve’s on the charts with Whitney and Mariah. The whole Party has solemnly promised to not get involved with their petty songwriting fighting anymore. They also haven’t spoken in person in almost six years, and the only way they communicate now is through the freaking songs.

There’s not a lot of overlap with the rock and pop community, and no one notices it until ‘05. It’s one fan that makes this one blog post talking about this weird freaky coincidence in Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson’s songs. It becomes a whole thing, like someone from Hawkins pulls out the yearbooks and finds out that they could’ve known each other. Their faces are splashed together into every magazine and celebrity entertainment shows.

They don’t say anything about it. No one comments about it for a few years and it infuriates the public even more. The next time Steve comes out with a song, Eddie comes out with another song a few months after and it’s once again a literal conversation about their relationship.

The whole thing continues until ‘11 and by then there’s blog dedicated for all the clues. It’s now a long running thread, and it gets updated when there’s another clue to this massive confusing puzzle. There’s a whole subsection with names of every Party member and how they connect the two artists together. There’s freaking flow charts and pictures and family trees.

It only ends when Eddie finally posts two pictures on Twitter. The first one is taken backstage. All you can see is Steve’s back, but you will know it’s him because of his hair. He’s standing at the side of the stage, and on the stage is Eddie Munson singing. The second one is a picture of Eddie sitting in a couch as Steve looms over him, hands crossed on his chest. Eddie’s signing his own album with a smirk, while Steve glares at him. If you zoom, you can see the sign on the album saying, “To Steve. This album is for you.”

The caption says: “Me and my biggest fan. Circa 2004.”

Steve replies to the original post saying: “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Eddie deletes the post and reposts it with: “Me and my wonderful, gorgeous, talented husband. I can’t believe I am married to THE Steve Harrington.”

It’s the first time the term “break the internet” is ever used.

Turns out, they were just writing the songs to spite each other and to add fuel to the fandom fire. (In an interview, Eddie says, “It’s our foreplay.” and Steve doesn’t talk to him for a solid 30 minutes for running his mouth. It only lasts for 30 minutes because Eddie made it up to him by using his mouth for something else.)

[sukioyakio]

little brainrot

R. Sukuna - thought that dating you;the quiet ghost that lurks throughout the college campus halls,whatever what they called you,he was just thought that this was going to be boring as heck and even wonder why he was doing this.

But he'll sure in hell not going to leave you.You sure knew how to hide your emotions in public but in private he see you with such confidence that made me wonder how are you the same person.

You could be playing Minecraft or any game and you two would argue with each other.

"How Stupid are you,How will we ever progress when your so weak and in need of me all the time." Sukuna voice drips of mockery in the mic,in which he could already see that cute angry frown you do before 'talking' to him.

"mhmm,I don't FUCKing know babe?Just maybe If you STOP being a Rude ass and stealing my iron" You exclaimed loudly with your voice raising a bit with frustration in the mic.

“So making shears with the iron was Best ‘Fucking’ Plan you had” He said with the mockery tone but lanced with sarcasm in.

Asshole has your stuff in a chest but he doesn’t let you that much because he like to fuel you up.

You whisper a curse word with an eye twitch.

“Oh my fucking god! IT WASNT MY FAULT THAT the fucking iron boots next to THE FUCKING SHEARS!!it different on PlayStation Then on PC dumbass!” Your voice spite up in frustration while replying to Sukuna in the mic.Your eyes brow furrowed down and an angry frown laying on your face.As the glow of your tv was your only light in your room.

You could hear his deep rich laughter through the mic finding your frustration funny.

”Oh Because it ‘SO’ hard to play PlayStation with a controller then on Pc,I’m pretty Sure that I’ve played on that shit and it was easy enough Princess” He said in his cocky voice and emphasizing the princess part.

"Well fuck you and your wanna complete the game ass Your Highness" you said with emphasize the Highness part just how sukuna did.

He just love seeing the different emotions play on your face whenever it just you too,but will the man say that nope he'll keep that a secret for him to know.

To be honest he shock at how you return to your quiet persona when you both are in public,Nonetheless the it still the same thing with him.He doesn't enjoy the fact that you don't like to show your relationship with in campus, no matter how many times you said calmly to him saying that you really are shy about it.He doesn't listen and won't either.

For instance,When walking around the halls in search of you,his little ghost.He spot some Low life loser taking to you with love heart in their eyes,and just to see you nod to every word that sip out of their mouth irritated the fuck out of him.

He clearly walked towards you.While he was at he thought he could surprise you while glaring the guy. His right behind you as the guy talks about some boring ass crap,his snakes his hand around your waist in a possessive manner. Completely caughting your attention with a gasp that sip out your mouth.

"Oh there you are ghost,I was Wondering as how you are.I wanted to say how good and incredible you were last night I had so much fun"He said clearly loud enough for the guy to hear and for him to be cut of his words. As finished with a proud smirk.

Sukuna could die laughing at how the man look so pathetically running away like A rat right now but didn't feel the need to,Not when you pushed him.Your face painted with rosey color on your cheeks and ears,and a frown on top of that.

'his feisty ghost'

The only reason why you aren't completely fuming at him is that non one was outside but him and you but still.

"W-what on earth was that for!!" you exclaim in disbelief,staring up at your boyfriend tall frame.Making a shadow that case upon your figure.But you also know how your body suddenly feels wall textured brushing your back.

"You tell me ghostie,I didn't like the guy Dragging his heart out for you when it belongs to me" he says in a low tone and steady pace;slowly his body is right against you pinning against the wall,he lean's closely to your neck,catching how your voice hitches as well as your lose of words.

——

That it,that all I have from my little brainrot and I probably have a lot of grammar mistakes

[purecantarella]

BLACKPINK Reactions : You Deal With Racism

request : Question, can you do a post about a black reader dating a blackpink member and then dealing with racism? I’m black and never seen it done so it would make me happy! i was very nervous when i saw this, because i don't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable or to get anything wrong and offend more people, so i hope that i did the request and the community as a whole justice. i would like to stress and say that while i am filipino, while i have experienced microaggressions, i have been blessed enough to not have experienced outright racism...that i can remember at least. i hope i do the ideas justice though and to those who have to stand for these actions, you are brave souls indeed. blackpink x black!reader disclaimer/s : racial slurs and aggressive acts (verbal and physical), oh and cursing. read with a level head.

Kim Jisoo

When Jisoo began dating you, she entered the relationship with a sort of colorblind mindset. It didn't matter to her what color of skin you had, she just liked you and found your energy electric.

It was never an issue to her, until you came home one night in a rage.

She scrolled through her timeline, laughing softly at viral memes of her member over the course of the tour when you entered the house. Jumping when the door slammed against it's frame as you stormed in. Tears in your eyes as you pulled your jacket off of your body.

Instantly, Jisoo stared at you with a concerned expression. She allowed you to calm down as you paced in front of her, thoughts clouded with rage. "I just can't believe that in this century, this point in time people still look at me with such..."

You're unable to continue your statement, only blundering into a groan of frustration. Jisoo was rather confused, before taking your hands in hers, the contrast between your hands only fueling your frustration further.

You sit beside her before letting your tears run down your cheeks, feeling helpless as she runs her hands atop your head lovingly. "What happened...?" She asks, her clumsy English accent making you smile.

You sniffle softly before pulling your hands, wiping your tears away, "Just some idiots...they thought I couldn't understand them and they said quote-on-quote, be careful with your bags kids, that gangster might steal them from you." You explain quickly, not wanting to dwell on it any further, just wanting to find comfort in your soft girlfriend.

However, your beloved girlfriend simply tilts her head to the side, offering you a small smile. On a normal day, the hint of innocence in her smile would often comfort you, bringing you a sense of calm and reminding you just why you fell for her in the first place.

Now though, it struck you as insensitive and all together it added onto your frustration. Just when you thought she would say nothing more and you could brush it aside, Jisoo says, "Just ignore them."

It wasn't anything offensive. In fact it was good advice. But after the day you had, after how much you've pent up with living in South Korea and having to deal with it each day of your life, ignoring those kinds of comments felt impossible.

You pull your hands away from Jisoo, her bright expression melting into one of concern again. You laugh dryly before getting up, walking towards your shared bedroom, "You...Soo I don't think you get it."

"No, no, I do, I swear," She tries to backtrack before she shifts to face you better. Innocence smeared all over her face. "I get a lot of hate as an idol, but I suppose the best thing to do is to just turn the other cheek."

You laugh again, tears of frustration pricking your eyes. Your hands rushing over your face over and over again in attempts to get your thoughts together. "I will always be discriminated based solely on how my skin looks. It isn't the same." You try to explain calmly in spite of the fire kindling in the pit of your stomach.

Still she looks up at you confused.

You sigh deeply before walking back towards your shared bedroom, "It doesn't matter, Jisoo. It's fine." You say quickly before slowly closing the door behind you. Leaving Jisoo confused and guilty.

As soon as she hears the door click, she's on the phone with Jennie, asking for advice. Wanting to understand you and what you go through better without hurting you further.

"I'm sorry, you said what to her?" Jennie berated her as she looked at your closed door with a bitter taste in her mouth, regretting everything she'd said and done in the span of a five minute conversation.

Kim Jennie

Getting into a very public relationship was already a scandal to Jennie's fans, but dating someone like you was almost unheard of for her fans who saw her as an angel and had assumptions of you. Both of you were very aware of the potential consequences.

But in that moment it was all or nothing. And you were both all in.

To Jennie, the freedom of being able to hold her girlfriend's hand while they were on a date was the most liberating and amazing feeling she could ever have. Your hands intertwined with one another as you told her about your day, waiting for a waiter to approach.

"Ah miss Kim! It's a pleasure to serve you again." The waiter greets politely, his smile gleaming. The rapper offers him a kind smile before she notices that he looks over at you. Expression not as polished, more restrained. Merely offering you an acknowledging nod but she chalked it up to her being a regular and more familiar to the man.

"Hon, what do you feel like having?" Jennie asks you, her hand momentarily breaking from yours to pluck the menu from in front of her. You turn to her but before you can say anything the waiter butts in, "We have a selection of chicken, normally we wouldn't fry anything but if that's what your..." There's a pause as he eyes you up and down, "...companion would like miss Kim we can surely find a way."

You fall silent and laugh nervously while Jennie glares at him, resentment boiling under her skin, "N-No thank you, I'd actually like-" Again he cuts you off, "Or perhaps she would like baked potatoes, Miss Kim? We can have them serve it extra spicy for your companion."

"I can speak for my-"

"However I am sad to say there are no more watermelons available, miss Kim-"

Finally, Jennie has enough and cuts the waiter off with a kind but venomous smile. "First of all, she can speak for herself. If you had anything valuable to say, you can say it directly to her. She is not an object or dare I say what you think she is...the help." Jennie says begrudgingly, shooting you an apologetic look.

She watches the waiter gulp nervously, "Second, the stereotypes you've stuck to her based on what she looks like are not only offensive but outlandishly wrong. And lastly, saying she's my girlfriend. Not a companion but my girlfriend."

You've heard it a million times before but it still makes your insides melt when she says that. A sense of pride fills you as you watch the rapper stand up for you so fiercely. "Now, I suggest you go back and come back when you're ready to actually listen and tend to your patrons." Jennie finishes before the man bows, muttering a soft apology before he runs back to the kitchen.

You look over at your flushed with rage girlfriend before she looks over at you rather sheepishly. "I"m sorry if I caused a scene." You smile and shake your head, leaning in to place a delicate kiss over her soft cheek.

"I've never seen you get so riled up, Jen." You pause to laugh softly, "Anger is almost a good color on you."

She pauses and leans into you, catching you off guard. Just a moment ago she was a warrior, ready to fight any battle for you. The armor quickly melts as her hand finds yours again. Her thumb brushes over your knuckles, making you lean in closer. Nose burrowing in her hair.

"I shouldn't have made a scene...It might have made you look even worse to the public...I can see the headline now. Jennie Kim's black girlfriend is a bad influence to her good girl nature." Her voice is fragile before you shake your head.

"You meant well, Jen. Just don't make it a every night thing." You whisper before leaving a light kiss on the crown of her head. In attempts to lighten the mood, you look down at the menu, "You know, that chicken sound about right now."

Jennie chuckles softly before shoving your chest gently, "Shut up Y/n, I know you don't like chicken."

After that, the night wasn't so bad. But Jennie definitely took note to not come to the restaurant again.

Park Chaeyoung / Rosé

From the moment you entered the limelight as Park Chaeyoung's girlfriend, you were under so much more fire than you usually were. Scrutinized for every little thing and it didn't help that you were a woman of color.

It was an uphill battle every day, working extra hard to prove that you were worthy of the Blink's angel on Earth. You couldn't afford to make a mistake or even be proud of your heritage.

Rosé saw the pain that caused you every day.

One day, being fed up with how restricted you had to be, she got you something that she thought you would have loved.

"Okay Rosie, my eyes are closed and I'm in the bedroom. What's this big surprise?" You ask, laughter bubbling up in your chest as you feel around, swatting the air excitedly. You hear your girlfriend giggle softly before excitedly screaming, "Open your eyes love!"

You open your eyes and see a set of matching outfits. You chuckle as you turn to Rosé who wore a proud smile. It was the one where her cheeks crumpled in and her eyes were crescents, it made your heart do all sorts of flips. "We're going to your favorite coffee shop, picking out some books, and playing chess in the park down the street! Everything you've been hinting at the past few weeks."

You blush and twirl on your own axis, "I didn't think you were listening."

She smiles before leaning forward, pressing her lips to yours. "Get dressed, my love. I'm going to hop in the shower." She pecks your lips again quickly, "I want to be looking my best for you."

You smile as Rosé skips happily to the bathroom. You walk over to the bed, a smile growing on your lips as you see just what she's done. She was truly a dream come true.

After preparing yourselves, you take a short walk to the coffee shop nearby. It was secluded enough that Rosé wouldn't be spotted and they made your favorite drink perfectly. Of course there was an odd stare here and there upon seeing you walk in, but you'd come so often that it had slowly stopped.

"Y/n! You're back!" The manager called out jovially before taking head of the register. "You make it sound like I wasn't here last week, Han." You joke before Rosé departs from you to grab a table.

You say your order and the older man nods, striking up conversation with a new staff member. He introduces you but you can see the distain in her eyes as she nods you off. Feeling uneasy you walk over to your girlfriend who chirps up when you walk towards her.

You force a shaky smile, being fully aware of how much of your skin was showing in the outfit Rosé chose, pulling it down every few seconds. She takes your hand in hers, a concerned pair of eyes baring into yours, "Home...?"

A fond smile finds its way onto your face. She only asked when she was worried if you felt comfortable or not and would act according to your answer. You shake your head as the manager serves you your drinks, offering you his apologies about his employee. The singer's eyes shoot back to you but you wave off the concern.

You think it will get better at the bookstore. For a moment, there's a sense of bliss as you and your girlfriend roam around, laughing at certain titles, and offering one another a few recommendations.

You notice the owner's daughter carefully watching you but there was no surprise to you there. It was something you'd grown used to over the years of living in South Korea but it wouldn't deter you from the day Rosé had planned.

You two walk out hand in hand after you checked out. You read the back to Rosé who was curious what you had picked up. "'...will Lucky be able to escape the regime forced onto her or will luck not be on her side this time...?' I don't know it sounded really cool when I picked it up."

She laughs before nodding along, "So...park or home, my love?"

You look up at her with a warm smile, "Rosie I'm fine, you don't need to worry about-"

"Hey! Stop!" Your words are cut off, you and Rosé turn around surprised at the angry young woman, practically gasping for air. Your girlfriend raises a curious brow while dread sets into your stomach. "You didn't pay for that!"

You open your mouth to explain when she shakes her head disappointed, "I watched you the whole time! Not once did you hand that to any staff member. I had a feeling when you walked in something would happen." She pries the book out of your hands and shoves your shoulder. Your eyes jot everywhere at once, panic filling you as a crowd begins to form. "How dare you try and steal from my father, you know your people have always-"

Rosé steps between the two of you with a piece of paper in her hands, "I paid for both books myself, you can see for yourself." The woman, recognizing the idol, lets her jaw hang open and eyes bulge to an alarming degree. Her hands tremble as she takes the receipt, reading it quickly before handing it back, offering the idol a low bow.

Without another word, Rosé wraps her arm around you and she guides you away from the now-dispersing scene. She taps your waist gently, before whispering, "Home?"

You nod, tears flooding your eyes, "Home."

She nods before quickly walking back to the safety of your shared apartment with her blood boiling. But she would get it all out later, in her own time. She knew that she needed to be strong for you, even for a moment.

Lalisa Manoban / Lisa

Lisa was absolutely bouncing off the walls to call you her girlfriend...that the most amazing, kind, intelligent, talented, and gorgeous being chose her. While you think you're the one who lucked out with her, she actively denied it.

In that spirit, she wanted to show you off constantly. In public appearances, you two were attached at the hip. You were always permitted backstage at the group's concerts. And most of all, once your relationship was made public, she bragged about her beloved girlfriend on social media.

It was innocent at first. Wanting Blinks to get a glimpse into her personal life, but then it became a whole PR thing for the company. Green lighting and excusing their actions by showing off that one of the company's aces, Lisa Manoban, was all about people of color so that excused all their actions.

However, that didn't stop Blinks who weren't on board to come after you and Lisa.

It was meant to be a romantic night, Lisa drew you a bath for the both of you when you got home, cooked you a nice hot meal, and played the romcom you watched for your first date.

It was a lovely evening. But it did come with a lot of preparation, so the moment the meet-cute for the couple in the movie rolled around your girlfriend was sound asleep on your shoulder. You smile fondly and see your phone light up.

A notification on Instagram.

You smile warmly as you see a post by Lisa. She had uploaded a time lapse of the bits of the evening that were appropriate and posted it for her fans to enjoy. You cringe to yourself as you see your surprised face when you see the meal she had prepared, but a loving smile grows from the sour face when you see the elation in her expression. Arms wide open for you to fall into.

By the end of the video, you've pulled Lisa closer to your body, gaining extra appreciation for your beloved. You see the likes and shares sky-rocket and feel the love from her fans.

But curiosity killed the cat. It was Lisa's number one rule about social media posts with you in them to not go through the comments. As an idol, she knew how toxic they could get. You scrolled through the text, it was sweet for the most part. Commenting how you were so happy with one another.

But those weren't the ones that stood out to you.

no one ever told me lisa got a pet gorilla 🤣

she's using lisa for clout, chick probably doesnt even shower probably, look how smelly she looks 🫥🫥🫥

🤮🤮🤮

@lalalalisa blink twice in your next story if you're being held hostage by this n-word (im sorry but im not writing the whole word)

They echo in your head and before you know it tears are streaming down your cheeks. The realization that you were probably in over your head. What was Lisa doing with someone like you anyway?

Feeling the dampness of your tears on her cheek, Lisa groggily lifts her head. Try as you may to hide it, she was wide awake when she saw the weepy look on your face. She's quick to brush the residuals away and her sleepy expression twinges into one of concern.

"Baby...baby...what happened? What-"

"I know you told me not to look at comments but I couldn't help it...and-and..." Your voice failed you and you fell into fits of sobs, unable to properly convey your emotions. Without another word, she takes you in her arms, brushing your hair back.

You calm down after a while, choking on air as you try to breath. Lisa patiently waits for you to be completely fine before she pulls away. She looks down at the bright screen and tosses the device to the side.

The dancer cups your cheeks, "I don't blame you, sometimes you want to know what they're going to say...so that when they say it again, it can't hurt you." She chuckles bitterly before continuing, "When I first came to Korea, I was the only trainee who wasn't Korean in the batch. They called me every name in the book, made fun of my accent, said that I was probably a transgender trying to pass as a woman."

You scowl before taking her free hand. "I'm sorry you had to go through that Lili..." A protective aura floating around you. Lisa shakes her head, whether its to say 'no' or to shake out the tears is a mystery to you. "People are shitty for no reason other than to feel superior to others."

She pauses, leaving a lingering kiss over your lips before pulling away, the pad of her thumb rubbing against your cheek lovingly. "But no matter what these people say, I love you. Despite everything people may think. I. Love. You."

You smile before nodding and pressing your forehead against hers, your grip on her hand tightening. "I'm lucky to have you, Lili."

"I'm even luckier, N/n."

The rest of the night was dedicated to you two talking about your experiences and feelings about them.

By morning, comments were disabled and a story defending you was posted. Suffice to say, Lisa made a personal account for just you and her friends.

i am so scared of posting this because sincerely i dont want to offend anyone but i do think it's important for media like this on a more informal platform to open up about how to and not to treat situations like this. i hope this got across what my anon wanted :"") and i hope you all enjoyed this one and i'll probably see you all tomorrow with a fluffier oneshot, im sorry this is how i returned to tumblr :"") - r

[plazmafields]

I've been trying to think recently why I find the age gap with V and Kerry to be endearing, when normally I feel an age gap over 10 years is problematic. Here's what I think:

(Long rambling ahead along with minor spoilers maybe)

There is a power imbalance between V and Kerry, in multiple ways. Kerry is much older, yes, but he also makes a lot more money. Like shit tons of money. The first time I romanced Kerry, I thought the romance arch was lacking because of the way Kerry never initiated. However, taking into account that V is 23, Kerry's tendency to wait for V to make the first move actually feels very appropriate.

Kerry's dealing with a lot of mixed emotions about Johnny being back. The fact that he never processed his inferiority complex while Johnny was alive, then as soon as Johnny died he jumped right into an ego-driven, spite-fueled solo career that took him straight to the top, and now Johnny's back as a digital parasite? And Kerry has a crush on his host?? Wild.

I think that's ONE of the reasons Kerry doesn't flirt with V outright: he's super confused about the way he feels about V, and whether or not those feelings are overlapping with the way he feels about Johnny. Is he so excited to see Johnny that he could just smooch him (platonic)? Is he simply grateful to V for pulling him out of a depressive episode? Is he still a little horny for Johnny like when they first formed Samurai? Is being attracted to someone 70 years younger than him the first sign of a life crisis starting? Maybe Kerry would rather be safe than sorry, and not act on his feelings for V while he's processing all that other stuff.

This shifts the power back into V's hands, who really doesn't have a lot of control over how the media will interpret their relationship, even if it remains platonic (vs. Kerry who has lawyers, and past experience with the media and dating while in the spotlight). This gives V the opportunity to decide if there are any romantic feelings there, instead of falling for the advances of someone very influential and rich. Those two facts could very easily convince someone that their starstruck reaction was actually love. This way, if V is in control of initiation, Kerry can be sure that he's not coercing V into starting anything they may not fully want; a relationship with ramifications V may not be fully aware of. He can be sure V's decision was not inadvertently rushed by anything Kerry may have said/done.

In our world, age gaps in gay relationships are not treated the same as they are in straight relationships, especially when it comes to gay men. I am not saying this is good or bad. But, it is a "trope", one could say, that younger gay men sometimes gravitate toward men many years older than them. I personally feel this is two fold: older gay men who are out publicly may find it hard to find others in their age range who are unashamed of their queerness, due to internalized social pressure. And younger gay men may find it difficult to navigate their sexuality on their own as it applies to daily life (specifically in American culture) and seek the guidance of veteran gays. If we translate that trend into the Cyberpunk world, where life expectancy is DECADES longer than ours, then perhaps Night Citizens wouldn't bat an eye at someone in their 20s dating someone in their 80s. (I'm sure that gap is stretching things a bit even for Cyberpunk standards, but maybe 30s dating 60s isn't uncommon.)

Another aspect of this is something they mention out right during Boat Drinks: Kerry doesn't act his age. He's getting there, but he's got the maturity of someone around V's age. I truly believe his stunted growth as a person is due to being constantly discredited and invalidated by Johnny. I mean, Kerry doesn't seem to have much in common with his former band mates, who have all moved on with their lives and found their versions of success (except maybe Henry). The people he gets along with best are a group of 20-something pop stars from a different part of the world, and V, also in their 20s. Kerry has been trying to prove himself for so long that his personality got stuck somewhere between starting Samurai and Johnny dying.

Lastly, I just wanna point out that V and Kerry's relationship as presented to us in game, with no outside context or deliberation, is inherently problematic. The age gap, the power imbalance, the wealth disparity, V possibly being a symptom of Kerry's three-quarter life crisis or a rebound or the second best thing to Johnny; Johnny being in the picture at all. A relationship doesn't have to be perfect for someone to like it, and it certainly doesn't reflect what they find acceptable in their own relationships. It's all fiction, it's all fantasy. If you want to theorize about how Kerry and V actually have a super healthy relationship, that's awesome! If you love the idea that they just kind of wound up together and this isn't a permanent situation for either of them, that's great! If you believe the relationship is completely toxic and you're loving the drama of it all, that's cool too!

With what the game has given us, and the fact that Kerry's writers' work could be interpreted in endless ways, I think the age gap was handled in such a way that it can be excused (or even played into) if you feel it works with your headcanon, or used as a catalyst for drama if that suits your imagination better. What's important is that it never feels predatory. And to me, that's good writing.

With my personal headcanon for my oc of V, I've decided his relationship with Kerry is perfectly passable. They're not a perfect couple, they lack communication skills and often butt heads over the other's tendency to put work over their relationship (both of them stubbornly insisting only the other one has a problem), but I like them that way.

[happiness-of-the-pursuit]

words wednesday (ignore that it's thursday)

Hello everyone! Thank you for the many tags. I got a migraine yesterday afternoon that only got worse as the day went on (and the brain is still a little soupy), so I missed the posting window. However, my brain also cooked up two new WIPs this week in addition to the two I was already working on, which is insane (I have never actively juggled this many pieces before). I'm excited to share and talk about these, so I am ignoring the date and still sharing.

Serious moment: this snippet is from my new wip featuring Seahorse Dad Henry (wherein trans masc Henry gets pregnant after a one night stand with Alex, fall out ensues). It's actually an incredibly important fic to me (somewhat fueled by spite), because on Twitter I saw a RWRB account make a wish list for men being able to get pregnant — as a dude who can get pregnant myself, it was pretty disheartening to see this trans erasure in a fandom which is supposed to celebrate queerness.

In general there's been a lot of recent mpreg talk without including trans guys in the discussion at all, so even though mpreg's not usually my thing, I've decided to add to the discourse by writing my representation into the narrative blah blah blah.

Enough talking. Here's the rough draft snippet:

Henry’s also honest enough with himself to admit that at least half of his good mood can be traced to the three free drinks bought for him by three different men, the bum squeeze he received a couple songs ago, the hard cock rubbing against his arse right now. He knows it’s a bit vain to revel in other mens’ appreciation of his physical form, but he spent so long feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, listening to people when they said no one would ever be attracted to him, that he can’t help but languish in the feeling of being desired.

Tags and thanks below the cut :)

Thanks to @14carrotghoul @magicandarchery @anincompletelist @firenati0n @heybuddy-drabbles @getmehighonmagic @gay-flyboys @matherines @inexplicablymine @zwiazdziarka @suseagull04 @kiwiana-writes @nocoastposts for WIP Wednesday/first line of 2024 tags! I'm late as mentioned above, so please consider this a tag for six/seven/several sentence sunday :)

[nerves-nebula]

How do I express sympathy without being a total dickhead when it comes to situations where I was proven to be right about something that negatively affects someone else.

My best friend is dating a guy I don’t like and who I’ve spoken at length with her about and when he makes her upset I want to comfort her or at least broach the subject with her- but all my stupid mean brain can come up with is a kind of drawling monotone “did he make you cry again?”

And that’s!!!! Bad!!! That’s unhelpful and fueled by spite and not what I want at all!! That’s mean! But there’s nothing else in my skull cuz it IS annoying! It’s annoying to hear her be upset by this guy but be too emotionally invested to end it cuz she doesn’t think the cons outweigh the pros but like she’s crying like every other night!!

And I was not raised in a household that taught me how to comfort ppl. To me if someone is crying the polite thing to do is to ignore them so that they don’t feel judged or something. And for my part I have never been in a situation where I was successfully comforted by someone else and HATE it when people won’t leave me alone so I have no reference point for this.

And that’s not even getting into the fact that she and I probably want wayyy different things when being comforted so ???????? Ghhhhhhhhhhhggffhfhhh. Brain dumb I’m annoyed gnight.

[icecoldwilliams]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐋: 𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐈𝐙𝐘𝐒 | ✲・*:✲・*:･ﾟ

|| TW: Grief, drinking, death, hinted suicidal ideation (if you brought your magnifying glass)

Humanity has such a understated habit of spreading turmoil.

Various causal hubris's parallel incurable viruses running rampant across the globe, left undetected by the immune system even without a soul spared from the infection. War, misgivings and countless tragedies often rooted in the minimized concepts of pride, jealousy, and senseless rage ; Mere misguided ideations disguised in order to justify even the indefensible.

Assumptions. Even something so simple, so moronic as assumptions could control the world in the right hands.

— Cold, cruel, merciless, unloving. An emotionless robot only capable of caring about monetary gain.

Idiots spread the labels given her throughout the masses in the form of insults, as if she didn't meticulously craft the initial mask herself.

She'd load the gun with blanks. And if it meant shrouding the more... undesirable truth, they could pull the trigger over and over again as many times as they please.

Let the bullets hit the frozen glass window on dreary grey nights, let them rain against it with the water dripping from the sky - but never, ever, pull back the curtain to the dim-lit condominium. ; Blind your eyes of the blonde sitting at the kitchen island, empty bottle of Jameson and it's half empty friend joining a downed glass of kin.

Fatal digits tonight not gracing euros, yen or dollars, but instead infirmly running across sorry excuses for 'names', made up of mere letters and numbers. Listed in a worn file only alongside otherwise meaningless dates, biological info and synonymous statuses printed in bold ink:

'ꜰᴀɪʟᴜʀᴇ ; ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴀꜱᴇᴅ'

'ꜰᴀɪʟᴜʀᴇ ; ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴀꜱᴇᴅ'

'ꜰᴀɪʟᴜʀᴇ ; ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴀꜱᴇᴅ'

Victims of supposed sepsis. Embolisms. Organ failure. Repeated into the double digits. The words littered the pages like the alcohol tainted the assassins typically rational mind. Tempting her to again sit here, head in hand senselessly pondering the negligible. Reviewing the short lived, the manufactured, all that were apparently unfit for the cruel fate forced upon them. Debating useless questions in regards to how their lives could've played out.

Some nights it revolved around names and the string of them that followed based on whatever pleased the cold woman's ears. Others, inherited traits, interests, career fields, genetics.....

Maybe they would've inherited her infamous azures, currently staring yet not seeing. Sans any despair.. ; Glassy yet winning against any hint of tears.

Any hint of love.

If anything, outsiders wouldn't see the traces of responsibility lacing the withdrawn for mere blips with only two left to remember their existence.

For those on this list who wouldn't have been tortured, poked and prodded from the day of their conception to the day of their death if it hadn't been for rare misjudgment, and those who wouldn't find solace in a frigid heart, but atop resolute shoulders.

Only momentarily slumped under their weight.

Because come tomorrow, the sun would rise even if behind remaining clouds. Her head would pound. Files would again be concealed both where only she would be able to find them and where she would never look without whiskey's aid. And just as expected, ever frigid Nina Williams would walk per usual, head held high, shoulders back.

No cracks in the apathy. Burdens invisible and never assumed just as she preferred. Spite fueled and dwindling will again go toe to toe with loose ends. ; Bodies lost to an uncaring and all but considered mythical sea.

— Even had fate been different, the mercenary wouldn't love the negligible names. One sole survivor walking this earth was enough. - But for now, at the very least, this cold hearted bitch would live for them to both be remembered and stay drowned far below sheets of ice another day. | ✲・*:✲・*:･ﾟ

[biteofcherry]

Listen, I like drama. But I like brotherly drama even more so here is a thot[this is gonna be long]:

You are an omega who got accepted into a prestigious college. There you meet the college's most popular guy and he is famous for all the right reasons: emphatic, sweet, gives the same respect to each designation.

He is the golden boy of his family, the favorite child, the one who always follows rules and is a bit traditional.

You both instantly click and become a couple. He proposes to you and you say yes, because he makes you feel safe and he promised to let you continue your studies and later on, work. You both decides to meet his parents. He's jittery on the drive to the mansion and you chalk it upto nervousness but it quickly becomes apparent why he was so anxious.

It wasn't his parents. It was his brother. The same younger brother who studies abroad because he isn't cordial with anyone. He is the black sheep of the family, the rebel, the bad boy.

He's the polar opposite of his elder brother. Charismatic, brash and goes through omega like clothes. He doesn't seem interested in you and you also keep your distance and only came to attend his brother's wedding to keep up appearances.

But are they really how they appear? Is one of them keeping a perfect facade?

Because when the wedding date nears. The younger brother catches the elder fucking another omega. He is furious and confronts him, leading to a lot of revelations.

The elder brother is only marrying you because you are sweet, shy and easily manipulated. You're the epitome of perfect omega, perfect for show. That he will have other omegas who aren't as perfect but are a great fuck. That he's going to knock you out the second you to marry, every promise he made was a lie. He will trap you, just like his father.

The younger brother immediately comes to you and tells you everything but in return, he receives a hard slap. Elder brother already knew this was going to happen so he manipulated you into thinking that the younger brother was spiteful and was trying to ruin your relationship. You played right into his hands as you never believed him, no matter how much evidence he showed.

The younger brother is distraught, he doesn't want you to end up like his mother. Alone and miserable. He feels defeated and his brother's words just add fuel to the fire.

"Should have played by the rules, brother. Should have not rebelled."

As the wedding comes closer, he comes increasingly desperate. Now, he's ready to do anything if it means saving you from his brother.

People say he's bad. Then, he will do just that. So on the night of the wedding, he marches into your room, commands every omega present to get out and before the elder brother can arrive. He claims you. Sealing your fate with him.

So, who's the cunning, golden brother and who is the misunderstood, black sheep?

First of all, how dare you come to me with this, but wothout a (at least) 30k fic ready to read. Rude af.

Secondly, this fits so many characters! I could easily imagine Andy vs Ransom, or Steve vs Ransom. Maybe Steve vs Johnny. As well Bucky vs Nick. Or put a twist to it and make it Ari vs Steve - and both ways work, because Ari could be the golden boy and Steve the playboy, as well the other way around.

In the end, i thin with this one I'd go with Andy vs Ransom - because that choice in the end would be easier for me. I can't have Steve there, because I'd be choosing him no matter which brother he is 🤣

[dreamtydraw]

just finished all of your games in one night! (except for the timeloop one because i got way too scared and just went to sleep lol. a really loud bug started making a noise too and i swear i almost screamed)

i first played apple bag! super fun, even if its still a demo! already 3 interesting characters, and they all have such distinct voices.

then i played 21 questions. super sweet! i love how its just so clear that aurore and clem care for each other. i love how you handled the very delicate topic of SH. this game was so sweet and so beautiful and ouuu!!!

and then there's tulipe, which was a different vibe but still so good! i recommended this one to my friend because they have a thing for queer white haired vampires lol.

i was surprised to see some characters i was already familiar with pop up! makes me wonder if you already have a fleshed out idea on who all these characters are!!

i want to ask what inspires u to make VNS !! because everything you made caught my eye and now has a place in my heart!

AAAAAAA so happy to receive messages about you guys playing my game T-T ( again I want to remind people that leaving ratings helps with the visibility )

It amuse me that Nightshift Seems to be very scary to some people ? I had friend telling me they played with the sound off because it scared them and in a way I'm proud that the scary part work but I'm amused because the game is bad... Like let's call a cat a cat, this was my first game and a lot of it is not so good of quality ( I do plan on polishing it one day but that not for a long time )

Glad you liked apple bag and happy to know I managed to make the li all different but loveable ! The topic of SH was something I wanted to work on since I have my familiarity with it and I thought that having a representation where it's the love interest who have them in a non fantasized way would be nice, so I'm glad you liked it. Thank you for the white hair queer vampire propaganda, I appreciate and hope your friend will like it !!!

And to answer, as for now all the current games are sharing the same universe, they are sort of side stories for the main stories ( paranormal club ) That I don't intend to work on before a whileeeeeee but yeah ! All characters are already fleshed out exept for minors roles or npc.

And I think I made posts about it already but my main reasons : I love dating sims and romance visual novels but I want to make the representation that I feel lack in this medias. Tulipe was born out of spite for all the games that force you to be sexual to romance or befriend a character, Apple bag was born from seing how women ( especially black girls ) are treated in otome fandom space + the lack of afab non binary love interest. 21 questions was born out of my envy to tell a story that could help people feel less alone, even more since a big part of the events happening in the game are inspired by problems I myself lived or observed. In general I make my games both to tell stories I want people to enjoy and find comfort in but also out of spite ( the two best fuels ).

Your message warm my heart because it means a lot to me as it confirm to me that my effort actually worked and that someone felt happy playing my game which is always my first goal. I thank you for the message and wish you a good day dear anon.

[afterdarkprincess]

Aftershocks Part 13

Hello again!!

We're back to very cute mushy feelings <3 And some aftercare!

Thinking one more part/epilogue to round this out (which I'm working on now) and that'll be the end of this fic but I have so many more ideas for these two and I'm actually enjoying writing again so there will likely be more content soon!

Samijey Post-Summerslam

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Tags for @feelschicken @southerngirl41 and @jeyuwuso

Sami ducks around the corner into the bathroom, on a mission to return with a warm wet towel to clean Jey and himself off.

With this moment to himself, even after living everything thats transpired over the last few hours, he still has a hard time believing that all of this was real and not some liquor fueled fantasy he’d dreamed up for himself on a lonely night.

His dating history is shorter than most, what with living most of his life on the road, dedicating his life to his very first love of wrestling. The few times he’d dated women the relationships fizzled out pretty quickly, and the one man he’s been with?

Well he hadn’t lied to Jey earlier, at no point during the arranging of his travel did he expect to have one bed for Kevin and himself, and while he certainly loved his tag partner, it was truly the bond of brothers.

But all those years ago, when Sami had been questioning his sexuality, Kev had been an understanding ear and willing to help him out while he experimented.

It certainly hadn’t been good sex, and all of the sex he’s had in general has been firmly in the “vanilla” category.

Where had all of that come from?

The pet names, the spanking, calling the other man pretty? He knows those are things that probably should be discussed prior to being done in the moment, but it all felt so right and natural. Not to mention hot as hell.

Sami had felt so at home in his role in the bloodline, with his knack for taking care of others and his eagerness to please. It felt like an extension of that, caring for this man that he loves in a whole new way.

And Jey needed someone to take care of him, more than deserved it for the hell he’s gone through.

The thought brings him back to the moment, warm water cascading over the towel in his hand. He wrings it out, making sure its not going to drip everywhere, and heads back to the mini fridge to get a cold bottle of water before returning to bed.

Jey’s still in the same spot on the bed, cozy in the pillows and legs splayed, a pout on his face.

“Bout time,” He gripes.

Sami laughs in spite of himself, even when Jey’s irritated he’s so damn cute.

“Sorry, got distracted.” He kisses the wrinkle in Jey’s forehead as he puts the water on the side table.

He takes his time, slowly running the warm towel through the mess on Jey’s chest and abdomen, loving on his skin in a whole new way. Somehow its even more intimate, going back between Jey’s thighs and cleaning up the mess he left behind.

In hindsight, it probably would have been better to have used a condom. Sure he knows they’re both clean, they both get tested for anything and everything all the time, but it shows a level of commitment that’s showing his hand a little bit more than he intended.

After all things escalated pretty quickly tonight, and he’s in this for the long haul but he doesn’t want to scare Jey off.

He tosses the towel over to the corner of the room and gets back in on his side of the bed.

He spares a glance at the clock and its late. More morning now than night. And he’s tired for sure, body nice and relaxed from the orgasm if nothing else, but sleep is still far from his mind.

Sami settles on his back for a second, staring at the popcorn ceiling, silence stretching between them again.

Jey coughs and Sami looks over at him, and he smiles at the sight of another pout, with the addition of that beautiful flush dusting his cheeks.

“You jus’ done wit me now?”

He can only guess that this was meant as a joke, but there’s a bite of insecurity to the question that hurts Sami’s heart to hear.

He rolls over and takes Jey’s face in his hand. “Of course not,” He kisses Jey’s nose, so softly that its barely a brush of his lips. “You’re not getting rid of me now.”

Jey grins, responding “Good,” before kissing him on the lips. It’s just as sweet as the first time.

They exchange a few lazy kisses like this, unhurried and slow, their legs intertwined on the bed. It’s bliss, an earned reward for the literal trials and tribulations it took to arrive here together.

Sami pulls back a bit, licking his lips to savor the taste of Jey on his tongue. “We probably should uh, talk about what this means at some point.” Jey’s beautiful eyes bore into his, and its hard not to get lost in them. “I meant what I said, you’re stuck with me now.”

Jey nods, and takes one of Sami’s hands in his own. “Tomorrow, ‘kay? N’ uh, go easy on me. M’not so good at talkin’ ‘bout feelings.” He brings Sami’s hand to his lips, kisses each knuckle, gently. “S’important though. You’re important, Uce.”

It warms Sami’s heart but he can’t help but mirror the cringe that befalls Jey’s face when he realizes what he said.

“Shit, no more Uce for you, huh? S’gonna be a hard habit to break.” Jey’s fingers reach up to run through Sami’s hair absentmindedly, tucking a stray lock behind his ears. “Maybe somethin’ else, yeah? Pele? Manamea maybe?”

Sami’s grasp of the Samoan language isn’t the best, but Jey’s tone is unmistakable and the look in his eyes reassures him that they truly are on the same page here.

He kisses Jey again, for no other reason than that he wants to and can. It’s a treat to be able to do so, a gift that he’s never going to take for granted.

----

God I just love them so much 🥰

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 5 ~ The Truth Revealed

Whilst Kratos continued answering the pleas of his Spartan brethren, his brothers in arms, and they continued conquering city after city, the Goddess of Peace hid away in her own room, unable to meet the eyes of the man he loved so dearly. She did not have the words, nor the heart to tell him the truth about what had happened. How could she tell him that she destroyed his whole life? His family, gone, because of her own selfishness and impatience. 

She realised she would never be prepared for the eternal hatred addressed her way. But what was worse, she wondered - Being forever away from your beloved, or having them hate you for an eternity? That is a question which had a much feared and dreaded answer.

In her endless fear, she became blind to the man's unseen struggle, and chose to blindfold herself to the rage engulfing him. There was nothing she could do to aid the suffering of the people from the mortal realm, as Kratos would destroy city after city in his incomprehensible path of conquering.

This is why, secluded in her own chambers, with only Hermes to sooth her worries, she became jaded and ignorant to the unwinnable war that the Ghost of Sparta was having against the Colossus of Rhodes - Or, worse, against Zeus, who had impaled the God of War with the Blade of Olympus, after the latter  imbued all of his Godly Powers into it.

"By the Gods... What have I done...?" Katrina gasped, unable to grasp her mind around the news that were delivered to her by her husband. "Hermes - You cannot be tricking me - That is... That is simply cruel!" she exclaimed, reproaching him for such an act - Yet his usual jovial self was solemn. He was not jesting. "Would I be making a mockery of the man that I know you agonise so much over? I do not need to add fuel to the fire and damage you any further - You do so perfectly well, without my aid." the man sighed, his heart melting as he stole a peek at the gleaming eyes of the grief-stricken Goddess. "Alright, alright, my sweetling - That is enough, I shalt not be teasing you any further. Come on over, join me in bed, and I shalt be playing with your hair, I know you like it so. Or, perhaps it is a lyre melody you wish to hear, to sooth your worries?" the Messenger God guided his wife to sit on the edge of the bed, and bent from the waist, raising her chin as to look at him. "Now, now - Have I not told you? A beautiful lady such as yourself should only smile in this life. Worry not about that Spartan, you know he can handle his own against the forces of - Well - Anything, really. Did you not leave the Domain of the Dead a little time ago? Or should I remind you that no one ever came back alive... Let alone, after having killed a God that was there before our Father was even created." even after so many years, Katrina could never understand how Hermes had such a silver tongue, and could always lull all her concerns. "My love, that brute man you love runs on pure spite and rage - There is nothing that would destroy that meat-head any time soon. Now, come along - I found this poem which I wanted to recite for you." thus, the worry about the God of War were forgotten away, and the two lay down.  "Thank you, Hermes. You always know how to make me happy when I need it the most." her sweet, shy smile was the only reward the Messenger God needed in return.

Thus, she was completely unaware that, the only night she did not watch over the God of War, the man had lost his Godhood and all of his powers. Gossips, however, are fast-flying, and the next day, she was all but caught up to date with all the awful deeds that had happened.

But, what hurt Katrina the most was... That not even once, had he called out her name. It is true, she had no true value in battle, nor could she win against all of the Gods of Olympus - But had she lost all of her worth? Had she meant so little to him, despite her whole self being his and his alone?

Even when she started looking for him, did she not find him. O, wherever was this fool hidden away and what mischief was he trying to achieve? What beings was he going to offend and what new dead bodies would topple over the endless mountain of corpses he had created?

There was no way to know that he was far away, stealing Typhon's Bane, killing frost titans, or that he was freeing Prometheus from his never-ending torment by burning him alive, only to get the Rage of the Titans as a reward. The man was all alone, save for the swarm of enemies he had to defeat, up there, on the snowy mountain that was the desolate wasteland of frost he was in.

But the man could hear a warning voice - He was not used to this voice, but it held caution and good advice. He was to behold the Island of Creation - Home to the Sisters of Fate. It is here that the path to his true destiny shall begin. The island is fraught with danger, for it was created to prevent all from reaching the three Sisters of Fate. The power of the Sisters shall allow him to return to the moment of betrayal from the Father of the Pantheon, when he killed the Spartan - It was his only chance at revenge and at regaining his Godly powers back - Thus changing his own fate, and of everyone else.

Though this voice was there for him, he could not help but recall the reticence and hatred that the woman that was once his companion held for these three women that can toy around with everyone's fate. She said they destroyed the Marked Warrior's life - And truly, Deimos lived not a life, but a lie. If need be, he would get his revenge on them as well - But his main focus is killing Zeus, and soon.

This is how, on the back of the very same Pegasus on which he flew before, Kratos arrived at the Temple of Lahkesis, the younger sister, who embellished the Threads of Fate. From here, he was to find his way across to the very island, for there lies his path to the Sisters. It is this way that he learnt the reason Gaia, the Earth Mother, wanted to aid him - They shared a common enemy in Zeus. As she told him the story of revenge - After Cronos, the mighty titan, ate child after child that he had with Rhea - Fearful of the Oracle's prediction that his own children would rise against him - That he decided to imprison all of them in his belly. The mother could only stand by and watch as her children were being devoured, one after another, but she was powerless before him.

However, when it came to the last of her children to be eaten, she tricked Cronos into eating a stone. She was unable to bare another such loss, and devised this diversion to save baby Zeus. Rhea commanded an eagle to secret her son away - He was taken to an island far beyond the watchful eyes of Cronos... Even so, it was Gaia who had once cared for him and kept him safe, and nurtured his desire to free his brothers and sisters from their father's imprisonment, yet her foolish act of compassion would come to haunt the Titan-race forever. In sparing Zeus, they allowed him to return with vengeance in his heart, and no mercy. He betrayed all of the titans, for the sins of just one - The sins of his father, Cronos. 

It was here, on this Temple, that he was able to control the Steeds of Time, not before defeating Theseus for daring to interfere in his quest - But compared to many of his other enemies, he proved little to challenge. He was all bark and no bite, as expected. In controlling the great steeds, Kratos was able bring forth the great Island - And it is here that he found a relic, rendering him able of stopping the time as his will - Ability that shall prove useless in his perilous path forwards.

Once he was risen on the palms of a statue of Lahkesis, he found himself being spoken to by the Primordial being, contacting him the same way Athena once did. "Hear me, Fallen God. None defy what the Fates decree. That is how it must be. Only death awaits you at the end of your journey."  "My death is what began this journey." Kratos spoke back with no fear.  "The Fates have not deemed victory for you. Your soul will never find peace for what you have become - And you have only that selfish, impatient little flower girl who claims to be a Goddess for that. Has she not told you yet of her sins?" her provoking were angering him, the same as any other God. "I am what the Gods have made me! And leave her out of this! This is MY revenge! My fate is forged by me alone!" taking out his blades, he wrecked the statue's head, throwing it out of the large window, thus making a way outside.  "We will never let you change your fate, Kratos." the fallen head kept taunting him - But he was immune to all this foolery. "You cannot change your destiny, mortal." she continued on. "We will never allow you to reach our sacred temple, Kratos." but her taunting only fueled his rage. 

And this is how he reached Destiny's Atrium, where he needed only place two shielded statues where the head of the Primordial Being's eyes were emanating two beams of energy that made for an impassable wall - Thus, reflecting the energy back and making his path towards the Bog of the Forgotten - In the distance, he could see the Spire - There, deeply within, lay the Sisters - They control the Threads of Fate. If Kratos is able to gain control of his own threads, he would be able to return back in time, to the moment of Zeus's betrayal. 

In his deep contemplation, he almost pissed the sound of a horse trotting - Only to be attacked by his once mortal enemy - The Barbarian King who was once so close to taking his life - Just before he had pledged a life of servitude to the God of War. "By the Gods, it IS true! I have fought my way through to the guardians of Hades and drove my way out of the Fires of Torment and changed my fate - And for my efforts, the Sisters shine their light upon me! Delivering the very object of my vengeance - Kratos!" the half-dead, half-alive King Alrik shouted into the murky skies. His laughter was taunting the mortal. "The servant of Ares - Do you remember that day, Spartan?"  But how could he ever forget the awful day that sealed his fate and drove him down a downward spiral of guilt, revenge and hatred.  "This time, Ghost of Sparta - I will have your head!" Kratos looked up at the hammer he wielded during that day - But this time, it would turn against his user, for the once God of War was easily able to overpower the undead Barbarian King, taking his hammer, and beating him back into his second death - This time, one from which he would never have a chance of return. 

Though he held the weapon of his arch nemesis into possession, he would never use the hammer - Kratos hated it with all of his might, and would have never wanted to see this grim reminder again, as long as he lived. Still - It was because of this arm that he felt nostalgic and melancholic, and his heart ached for the old times. He wanted to call out Katrina's name and make sure the Olympians were not being cruel to her just to spite him - But if she arrived, would he be able to protect her, from all the atrocities he had to endure, just to get to the Sisters of Fate?

How did she manage to get there in the first place, it had absolutely bewildered him. It seemed to him like the most arduous, hellish journey he had ever embarked on, against the strongest of the Olympians, the whole pantheon, and against three primordial beings that play with fate as they wish - Though his convictions were absolute and he had no fear of death - Revenge was his only goal in mind, and it will not falter in the face of danger. The Goddess of Peace needn't know of any risks and perils he would face ahead.

Thus, he reached the Temple of Euryale, from which, after passing several life-threatening traps, discovering some fellow warriors who were defeated by cerberi and reclaiming the Golden Fleece from the monster that had eaten Jason the Argonaut alive, gaining the power of reflecting back the attacks sent his way - He had finally reached the Gorgon Euryale and decapitated her. Now, he could turn his enemies into stone. Perhaps he was ready for what was to come in the near future - Though, he doubted such a trick would actually work of the powerful primordials. His brute strength and tactical strategies have always been the way to win every war he faced. 

Once he faced a challenge where he had to swim under water, he almost chuckled, remembering how miserable the Goddess was, soaked in sea water when they had gone to Atlantis. Though a bittersweet memory, he had to admit, it was a comical sight - Like a wet cat, hissing in anger, wanting to be let inside the house, near the hearth. Good thing she was not there, for she would complain more about her ruined outfit, or the tangled mess that her beautiful hair was.  

His path was confusing and oft misleading, for, after so long, he was brought back from where he had begun - Destiny's Atrium - But he could see reason behind it, for paths seldom are liniar. Sometimes, you walk a vicious circle, and once must break the cycle that is doomed to repeat forever. Or so, Socrates would theorise, perhaps.

Sometimes, Kratos wishes he had more time to learn from the Goddess who loved studying so much - She had taught him many-a-poems and theater plays, but also, sciences that would be deemed abstract by most - But she knew, he was smart enough to comprehend the complicated ways of factual calculus and physics. Arts, however, always touched his heart more - Not only because Lysandra would sing to him, but also because Calliope, named after one of the muses, was such an immaculate flute player and even composed her own melodies - One, which she had dedicated to him, on his name's day. Katrina, on the other hand, would play the lyre for him, and would hum soothing melodies that would lull him into falling asleep - Something that only the Goddess of Serenity would be capable of achieving, despite all the haunting nightmares and whipping visions. 

Though his mind wandered far, his feet continued getting him to his next destination - The Hall of Atropos - Where, to his shock, noticed the familiar cascade of red hair, up on the bridge that went to the eye-sight of the ugly, grimacing statue. "Katrina?! What are you doing here?! I thought - I thought you were safe, in Olympus. Had Hermes betrayed you?!" a sense of nervousness seemed to creep up Kratos's spine, but for a little while, he thought the woman was just a willful vision - A mirage of what he wished he would see. Being surrounded by enemies alone, in such a lonesome journey, could play tricks on one's mind. However, the silhouette abruptly turned around and looked down at him - Her face was dead set for a little time, before she sighed with all of her might. "Why, Kratos?! Why, of all places, we had to meet here, in the Hall of Atropos, the most vile, disgusting, wretched being in existence?!" her wail seemed more like a child throwing a temper tantrum. "She destroyed me! She is the reason behind everything bad happening to us! If it were my way, she would be tortured for all eternity - THAT IS RIGHT, ATROPOS! I HOPE YOU HEAR ME, YOU OLD, NASTY, SMELLY BITCH! I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE AGAINST YOUR WRINKLED HAG FACE AND THAT ROTTEN BREATH OF YOURS!" the woman shocked the Spartan with her anger, as she threatened the skies - Only to settle down and sit on the bridge, dangling her feet like a child. "I am better now. But I did not lie. Atropos is, by far, the worst. I hope we get to kill her - And that we make it as painful as possible. She deserves it." the way she spoke so casually of such an evil subject put doubts into the cautious general. "Who are you and why have you taken the form of a Goddess?" but the way she tilted her head, o so innocently, made him feel almost guilty for disbelieving her. "I suppose I may not blame you for believing I was a farce - After all, you did not call out my name, therefore, how am I here? You see, the answer is simple." motioning to the man, the Goddess jumped from the bridge, was was effortlessly caught in the mortal's strong hands, placing her on the ground as carefully as possible. "The short answer is - Hermes told me." it did make sense to the Spartan, at least, on a ground level. "If there is any rumour flying around, I am sure to hear it from him. I cannot mask my sadness, as you had not wished to see me, even once, after what Zeus did to you... But I also understand why you would not want to lay your eyes upon my very being. I must be a concealer of truth to you. A liar. The one who deceived and manipulated you, yet gave you no concrete response as to why am I keeping quiet. You had to endure enough lies from Athena... I never wanted to lie to you. I was always genuine with you, Kratos... But like I told you many-a-time, I am still a God, and Gods are ALL selfish... And in my selfishness and fear of losing you, I lost the straight path that led me to a consensus between my mind and my heart. Our relationship was built on truth and communication, and I have severed them both. Of that, I am sorry. I should not have let my fears to cloud my judgement. May you ever find it in your heart to forgive me, Kratos?" though sheepish and embarrassed, the Goddess admitted her own wrongdoing, to which Kratos could only gawk in sheer surprise - It almost felt akin to a revelation, her words sent him into a mute stupor, and at first, he first blind to her timid attempts of reaching out her hands to touch his own, only to retract them and step away. "I understand. I respect your decision, Kratos. I will continue aiding you in your quest, yet you may pretend I am not there." she turned away, masking her disappointment and stepping further to the middle of the court. "Wait." his loud voice hit like a lightning bolt. "I... Do not resent you. I will forgive you. But I must have my answers." his answer was resolute, and though he could see the pensive look in her green eyes, shining like emeralds, the desolation was at hand. "Well... I suppose you cannot hate me any more than you do. If you want to kill me, you may do so - Only after we have killed the Sisters of Fate. I want to have what little satisfaction I can salvage from this cruel life." her pragmatism felt like a bucket of ice-cold water being thrown on his face in the morning, but he could not help but grunt in approval. Was he finally going to get the answers he's been waiting for, for so many decades? "I promised I would not hate you. I am a man of my words." her sardonic smile, however, spoke more than words. "O, you have not heard the truth. Speak only after you know the facts... But where should I even begin? I suppose, with the very beginning... Many aeons ago..." the Goddess took off her sandals and began taking light steps around the court - Kratos noticed it was an activity that would clear her mind and helped her focus, so to speak the right words and not stutter. "You must already be aware by now, that since I was a child, I was never the most... Popular God in the pantheon. In a society that cherishes only war, beauty and banquets, one that is neither would be cast away. Look at how they always forget about Hestia, who was the only one that I saw akin to a mother. Ah- Forgive me, I digress. What I meant to say is - That the way I am treated now, is the same as when then - And that is because I would only spend my time in the forest, with the animals and flowers, and would go on and on about meeting one day my fated love." once again, the woman sighed, defeated. "Thousands of years passed, and no God, nor mortal would even look my way, and I began questioning my self... My worth. Was I not good enough? Was I not helping enough? Was I not deemed worthy of my status and magic? Question after question began eroding at my heart, to the point that I would close it to anyone who dared approach me. I felt... Poisoned. Until Anteros found me, and befriended me - And ultimately, with Aphrodite as well, but that is a whole other story." Katrina looked away, and Kratos wondered, where would this story lead to, anyway? She had revealed broken bits, on certain occasions, yet barely anything would fit together in a perfect puzzle. "Anteros promised me that I would one day find my soul mate, and thus, he cast two arrows in the sky - One that hit me, and the other... That remained stuck in a cloud, able only to move when my destined one was to be born. Considering how long ago this happened, you can only imagine how many years I spent in solitude, with only the forest to caress my bitter soul." the story was long and detailed, but the Spartan had no time to dwadle on trivia. "Get to the point." he ordered, only to see her shaking her head. "I was getting there. Do not be impatient, otherwise, nothing shall make sense. Moving forward in time, exactly a hundred years before your birth... I was having a most dreadful day - And Anteros, tired of seeing me in such agonising solitude, proposed that we pay a short visit to the Sisters of Fate, where I would ask them to reveal to me, if not the man, at least a time line of our meeting." Kratos's eyes widened from shock at the words uttered by the woman before him. "You sought an audience with the Sisters of Fate? And you were received?" he could not help but ask out loud. "O, yes, of course. If only I had not been received, how better our lives would have been! If that moment of weakness... Of vulnerability had just been ignored, like every other time... If I had not fallen prey to my own fears and impatience... If I were not selfish in that moment... I would not have gone to seek the future... Alas, I was foolish. Arrogant. I was obsessed with finally finding the meaning of mine own happiness - And where did that get me?" the misery was painted on her face. "I was promised a beautiful love story with no problem - A Spartan general, strong like no other, that would make his country proud, and would love me with all his might - But no, Atropos thought it a joke! She made a mockery of my blissful life! She took my thread for Clotho's hand, and threw it to Lahkesis, and bewitched her younger sister into making my life a tragedy. I was to see my man have a family, made out of love, and I was to bare the jealousy of being forever forgotten by the world. I was wrong. I admit - I was awful. I was selfish. I do not deserve happiness - But they were not content with destroying my life alone - They had to interfere with his as well." and suddenly, the story began to take shape and colour, and it became familiar. "The Marked Warrior...?" his voice came as a whisper, but confirmation was a curt hum from the woman before him. "They found joy in toying with a mortal's life. How sick is that? A cruel joke that only the omnipotent can play. I have always hated the Gods, for they do not aid the mortals in need, for request plenty out of them... But this... This destroyed me. Were it not for Hermes, you would not have seen me. Probably. I do not know. Those three work in mysterious ways." though he was not an expert in art, he knew very well that humans were fond of the latest Greek Tragedy plays - But if they were to live it, they would not be so happy about them. "You told me about the life of the Marked Warrior, but Deimos is dead and did not live any of those events you spoke of. Maybe the Sisters of Fate only tricked you into thinking they ruined your thread." in that instant, the woman turned to face him, and her face showed an emotion he had never seen before, nor could he decipher. "Are you stupid? Or are you purposely acting that-a-way?" she blinked her long, pretty eyelashes at him. "After everything I told you - Do you still believe that the Marked Warrior was Deimos?!" "But Zeus took him --" his answer was cut off by the red head who made her way in front of him. "It wasn't Zeus who directly chose Deimos! He had no way of knowing who the Marked Warrior truly was! It was Ares who chose Deimos, not Zeus. Have you forgotten Thanatos? He told you, Ares picked the wrong brother. Now, must I remember your life, Kratos? Who became the greatest Spartan General? You did. Who had a loving family? You did. Who is marked from head to toe? Look at your tattoo. Look at your ashen skin. Look at the scar on your face, left by Ares from when you were a child - And the large gash on your belly after Zeus impaled you. Even after all this - After the whole pantheon turned against you - Do you still truly believe that the child of the prophecy was Deimos?!" the sky was dropped on Kratos's head and a harsh realisation hit him like a horse-drug carriage. "How could this be...?!" for once, the Spartan was entirely speechless. "The child who would overthrow Olympus. Who would kill Zeus. Godslayer. Are you not that person, Kratos?" the mortal could only look up and take a deep breath. "By the Gods..." he muttered in complete disbelief. "If you knew all this, why had you kept it a secret?” "I... May have lied to myself." the Goddess admitted bashfully. "When you were a child, I did not imagine that Ares would make a mistake. I did not think twice about the idea that maybe he was wrong... And everything I wished you to become, is what I had heard from the prophecy." she explained, her head hung. "The reason I felt that my soul mate was still alive... It was not because I felt Deimos's existence. And after his death, when I insisted that he was still alive... I told you... I could feel the living energy of the very man, still going strong. I could not admit to myself that I would be just a replacement for the one that I love with my whole being, so I wanted to believe that he was dead. Instead... The very person that I was bound to... Has always been... In front of me. Living a happy life with his happy family... Until it was all gone... Because of me. It is not easy, confessing to the person you love that you are the reason they are miserable and in pain. But there you have it, Kratos. Now you know. This is the whole truth - Or at least, the one that I know. Whatever it is that you decide to do in the future, is entirely up to you." it was never Deimos, but him - If Ares had not picked the wrong brother, they may not have ended this way. This story, this twisted prophecy, unleashed an endless river of possibilities and what ifs, to the point that the Spartan could not but forcefully stop himself from imagining. "And since the moment you sought the aid of the Sisters, you became the laughingstock of Olympus. That was your selfish moment. The reason why the Oracle said you help my quest out of guilt. Why Gods and Titans alike deemed you a liar before me. A traitor. Is that all?" the woman nodded, dejected. "To those who are not affected, it might seem like a silly story - But we must live with the consequences of our own actions, no matter how foolish or detrimental they seem. What was supposed to be an innocent question, became a life-sentence for many lives. Gods are awful, Kratos. Never trust them." the conclusion was resolute, at least in her heart - But Kratos now realised the meaning behind that feeling that surged through his veins, the moment he first laid his eyes on the Goddess. It was during that time, that their hearts had connected. He tried to hate her, to find fault in her ways. He tried to blame her for everything that happened in his life - But no matter what thought went into his mind, he could not hold grudge nor hatred against her. "I... Could not hate you." those fateful words brought life and hope back into her green eyes. "...Do you.... Do you mean it?" incredulous, she was almost afraid to step any closer to him. "I mean it." though it was painful to think about every tragedy that happened to him, it was not by her hand that they happened - In fact, she tried to alter that fate, multiple times. That was more than anyone else could claim to have helped. "We must bare the consequences of our own actions. It was not you who called down Ares. It was not you who forced me to pledge my life into his eternal servitude. It was not you who killed my family. Fate is something that should not be toyed with, and the fault rests solely on the Sisters. We create our own fate." his sage words made the Goddess feel lighter, almost absolved of the guilt and remorse that was eating away at her soul. When she did not answer back, he cast his sight to hers - Those vulnerable emotions that she always showed him seemed to overflow at the moment, and before he knew it, she had thrown herself into his arms, clinging tightly onto him. "O, Kratos, I was so afraid. I could not live with the idea of you hating me. There is nothing more painful to me, than not having you in my life." he had no words with which he could explain the way he was feeling, and for that, he stood silent. Instead, his hand found its way into her velvety cascade that her hair was, caressing it, while the other was on her lower back. When he felt her trembling lower down, he had touched his forehead to her own, and took a deep breath. "I could never hate you." he admitted, not only to her, but to himself as well. He still loved Lysandra, and he still loved Calliope. They were his family. But if he were to objectively think about the love his family had for him, he knows, they would want him to seek happiness and resolution... They would not want him to continue on this miserable path of self-destruction. It was him who needed this revenge, not them - They are dead. But his heart was not. "Then - Let us continue on this journey - Together, this time. Together, we can make our own future, unbound by the rules of the Fates or the Gods." with a grunt, he agreed and let go of the woman, so that they may venture forwards towards the Fates.

Katrina guided him through the intricate levels of the temple, which were as cruel as Atropos herself - But that, which surprised the both of them, was the presence of Perseus in a chamber filled with water that almost reached the knee level. He was desperately angry for  having the only way out blocked by the two, until he managed to convince himself that this was a test from the Sisters, and used his helmet to keep himself hidden. A cheap trick, considering his steps were seen in the water. The Goddess needn't intervene, for the fight was fast and Perseus's shield was taken away, so that the ugly face of Atropos can be destroyed. On the other hand, Perseus's body was thrown on a hook and it fell to the ground, the chain serving a proper way down for the two. As Kratos went in front of the beaming energy from one of the eyes, holding the golden shield in one of his arms, Katrina created a reflective shield from her own nature life energy, and together, the two were able to easily destroy the statue's face, and with that, so did the wall holding them away from the broken bridge that would lead them on the other side. 

There, Kratos found a double-ended magic spear, which he gladly took, as a precaution, yet would never use, just like the hammer he confiscated from his old enemy. After helping Katrina up on the leaning bridge, he used the time-stopping relic and picked her up in his arms, jumping towards a safer end of it... But it was all so fragmented that the crossing of lowlands looked more like a gymnastics probe at an olympic decathlon. "Hold onto me tightly and do not let go." the man warned the Goddess that latched onto his back, looking at the crossing of the Lowlands with a sort of dread. "Well... I suppose we have faced worse odds." she muttered, bracing herself for the continuous jumping around, dangling and swinging from falling pillar to another ruined wall. "Are you going to explain how exactly did you manage to reach the Fates, all by yourself?" the man asked, waiting for her to get off. "I was expected... And wanted. That, in itself, made it far easier for me to find a route that did not involve even half of the journey you trailed thus far." she explained, and it made sense. The Sisters did not want him there, thus, his road was longer, and more dangerous. Were you welcomed, you might as well end up with a portal right in their chambers.

The conversation was cut short, however, as they reached the Great Chasm, and an elderly, worn out man, slightly crazed by life and dorning a large set of wings, was warning them to head back. "Go back! Go back, warrior! There is no passage here! You will never make it across! You think you can - But you canNOT!" he stuttered. "...Icarus?" Katrina gasped his name, remembering him as a little babe... And now, what had he become? A mad man.  Kratos did not listen to the ramblings of a lunatic, and stepped forward. "Do you hear me?! It is my wings that will make it across! It is MY test!" the Spartan simply pushed him out of his way, not wanting to bother with the lunatic. "Did you not hear my name?! The Goddess called it for me! The... The Goddess? The Goddess aids you! It is not fair! Why do you have help, and I do not?! It is I, Icarus! It is my fate to make it across! My test! And I shall succeed - Me, alone, just me! The Sisters - They will grant me an audience, not you! You will die, white warrior! You will die! And you - Silly little Goddess - Greedy little Goddess - Did you think a mad man would not know of your deeds? O, I have been told! I have heard of you and your greed, little Goddess!" the crazed one kept skipping around awkwardly, almost tripping - But his mind was long gone. "I will reach the Sisters of Fate. And I will use your wings to do so." Kratos grabbed the skeletal man's shoulder. "The Sisters will not allow you, a Fallen God, to bathe in their light!" Icarus screeched as he climbed on Kratos's back, making the two free fall together, to the ground. "Why do we always end up this way?" Katrina sighed is dismay, though she knew very well, Kratos would find a way on the other side. One way or another. He was resourceful and intelligent.

Thus, the Goddess made a bridge out of moss and liana and went on the other side - She recalled with dread, this palace... The Palace of the Fates. She remembers how she stepped inside, anxious, with only Anteros and his beautiful butterfly wings as a comfort. She remembers blocking the spike-mechanism by blocking the doors, dragging the great wooden log outside, without moving a single step. More than anything, however, she remembers there being a bridge that connected the two parts of the palace. Now, the bridge was retracted and did not allow for safe passage, if one had not succeeded in solving the challenges at hand.

Realising she could help Kratos by solving some of the puzzles, she went inside the building to the right, easily killing whatever stray foe she encountered on her way to the Auditorium of Lahkesis. There, she saw a book - But she could not read it. She needed a blood sacrifice. Though she hated the very idea of bloodying her hands, for Kratos, and for her own revenge, she would do so. Using the liana coiled around the translator's body, she dragged him all the way to the fated book and forced him to read. No matter how much he pleaded to her, his begging fell on deaf ears. "I know you may not forgive me. But you devoted your life in servitude to the Gods and the Fates. You should have known better. Mortal lives mean nothing for a God." though she did not believe in the same creed she spoke of, the truth was just that - If you devote your life for a higher being, you will end up as a sacrifice for them, one way or another.

The transcript of the book read as follows 'Hear me, Sisters who control the Threads! Another searches for what only the Sisters may give. As proof that he is worthy, accept this sacrifice of my own blood!' as soon as the scholar read that line, Katrina's vines bashed the man's head into the book, splattering it all over like an artisanal fountain in the town square. Before her very eyes, the wings of the giant statue started to spread, half-way through. And so did the man's blood, all over the ground, into the golden crevices engraved into the white marble on the ground that depicted a bloody phoenix.

Behind her, she felt a presence, all too familiar. Turning around, the floating vision of Lahkesis appeared before her, mocking her with a praise. "Well done, Goddess. With this sacrifice, you have proven your resolve to seek out the Sisters of Fate. Your ambition knows no bounds, even while faced with more obstacles than the first time around. However, this is but a small step in your quest to gain an audience with us." despite her words, Lahkesis opened the ram-embellished door for the Goddess to pass through, and making her way down the corridor, she ended up back from where she began, in the middle of the Auditorium.

It mattered little to her. Katrina ventured further into the left wing of the temple that was now unlocked, thanks to Lahkesis's help. Though, as soon as she stepped inside, she was faced with a death-trap that had only one way of escaping - Defeating all the enemies thrown around her. As if that would prove to be a challenge. Katrina's determination knew no bounds - Though she could not help but find the Sister's resolve rather... Contradictory. Lahkesis opened two doors for her, only to claim neither she nor Kratos would ever reach the Temple.

Once she escaped the cramped corridor, she reached a round chamber, surrounded by God statues. How annoying, Katrina thought. She remembers the Garden of the Gods, but of course, she was never important enough to earn her place there. As soon as she noticed Athena's statue, she used her spear to destroy it. She did not want Kratos to be poisoned by her lies anymore.

Further along, she had to make yet another sacrifice - This time, by fire - And with ease, she bound the sirens that appeared before her and pulled the lever. She felt her heart ache for their lives, and she knew, should she voice her contradictory resolution, she would be deemed a hypocrite, without the possibility of refuting. Thus, she remained quiet.  Reaching a small puzzle with a frozen bird statue, she used her vines to move around the mirror so that the beaming light from the ceiling would hit the ice, thus, melting it away. Then, the Goddess pulled on the lever to melt away the ice that sealed away the door - And thus, she could pass onto the next chamber. Still, she hoped dearly that Kratos would get there already. Though she did not find it difficult to pass the challenges presented her way, the solitude was almost terrifying.

Thankfully, she finally found the end of the left wing, and there, another translator was awaiting her, not so eagerly. "Goddess? It was foretold that you would be followed by the Ghost of Sparta - No matter! I will not let you reach the Sisters!" the old man  threw himself off the edge of the balcony, but silly man, did he not know the powers of the Goddess? Without batting an eye, a liana was already coiled around his ankle, and brought back on the ground, forced to read the next transcript of the book. 'Hear me, Noble Sisters, who forge our destinies. Another seeks an audience to change their fate. As proof that he is worthy, I give my blood to illuminate the way!' read the forsaken passage - And, once again, another man had to die. Once, Katrina was afraid of even seeing blood, let alone be covered in it. This time, the cause excused the means - Or that is how she lied herself. It mattered little. This bloody phoenix was formed as well, as so did Lahkesis visit her again.  "Katrina. Like the fiery Phoenix who is resurrected from his ashes, so you and Kratos too, search for a second chance at life. Of what you had long lost. Find these ashes and free the Phoenix. Only then, will you find the path to the Temple of the Fates." once more the Fate opened this door for the Goddess, so she could continue venturing ahead - It was not until she reached a certain puzzle that she realised it might be well beyond her prowess capacity.  "Well, this is... Less than optimal." looking up, she noticed the spiked ceiling - Ceiling that would fall on her, should she not bring down the ground by using brute force, dragging onto the large chain in the middle. "Might as well rest, then." thus, the Goddess sat on the ground and created a liana long enough that it would go all the way to the beginning, in the middle of the auditorium, so that Kratos would follow along without getting lost.

Thankfully, the reunion took place not after a long wait. "You... Beat all those challenges, all by yourself?" though he was impressed, he also felt guilty, seeing the blood tainting her beautiful tunic. "I did earn a lot of time to spare. And you - You received a blessing from Atlas. How quaint. May it serve you well. Shall we?" with help from the man, she went to her feet and explained the labour before them - With Kratos dragging the chain and Katrina destroying the forming skeletons, they were easily able to escape yet another death trap. On the other side, it was the Phoenix Chamber. Here, they had to reach the urn with the ashes and place it into the lava, so that it may be reborn. 

The Sisters seemed to be blindly in love with spiked floor traps and fire-based sacrifices, but they were getting annoying by the minute. Still, retrieving the urn and delivering it to the fire was one of the easier things they had done since the beginning of their journey together - Be it that of getting revenge on the Sisters of Fate, or the many previous ones. A large fire bird emerged gloriously from the lava, through the ceiling - Then flew on the other end, where the bridge should have gotten them, waiting patiently, perched on the fire of the large torch.

There was one last wing remaining, that on the upper floor of the west side - But there, they encountered something other-worldly. Something completely unimaginable, that made no sense for either of them. On a dark, cramped corridor that was barely luminated by the grey light from the outside. A man, desperate in his voice, had attacked them - This human was strong, but he was no match for the great Spartan Warrior. Once thrown outside of the corridor, and into the blinding Sun that engulfed the Auditorium, Kratos realised that the one in which his blades were impaled was none other than Atreus, his second in command. His friend and brother is arms. The one he left in control of Sparta. "You?!" he could not believe his eyes - Was he cheated by some spell? A vision, mayhaps?  "I told you to return to Sparta! Why do you leave Sparta unprotected?!" the general reproached his dear friend that was close to dying.  "Wait, Kratos - Let me try to heal him." she quickly held the man in her arms and covered him in dewy musk that quickly healed his injuries.  "Sparta... Is no more." Atreus spoke with a heavy heart. "Zeus... He came under the cloak of darkness into Sparta. The people cried out for you. They begged for their God to save them. But you did not come. I was left with no choice. I had to seek out the Sisters to change the fate of our beloved Sparta... For I am all that is left." though the story he told was that of sorrow, for once, Katrina's healing was able to save a life. But what shall become of it, as they further on in their endeavours, while he is to remain here, at the Temple, with no way of returning... Nor a place to call a home. "Atreus - Worry not, for that you may live. We are seeking the Sisters for the same reason as you. Though you shalt not remember the events of this day, believe your Lord and his strength. He WILL save Sparta. Alright?" the woman helped the man up - And much to his surprise he felt... Rejuvenated in his entirety. "You are the only one who can protect our home, Atreus." Kratos spoke, shaking a brotherly hand with his friend. "Yes, My Lord!" Atreus knelt before his Lord, before running away the same way he came there. Though the general spoke naught, she knew he was grateful that at least his friend did not have to die by the hand of the Gods.

Their only way to the other side was blocked by a nasty kraken, which the two easily defeated, and with the Spartan pulling the level, the open mouth of the monster served as the mechanism that blocked the bridge in place. Once they reached the Phoenix, the Goddess shuddered. She never liked the fire. Alas, she seemed to constantly be surrounded by it. Thanks to Kratos's reassuring hand on her shoulder and a bit of leftover courage that Atreus offered her, the two rode on the back of the majestic bird and ended in the flooded Temple of the Fates. It was almost as wet as she remembers. Almost, only.

Destroying the stone statue of Lahkesis head, they were able to reach her Throne... And, unfortunately, it looked every bit as intimidating as before. "Kratos, ready your weapons. This place... This is the throne room of Lahkesis... And that elder sister is always nearby." Katrina's worry seemed based, and Katros did as instructed. He could not understand the need of the mirrors, at first. Just as the first time she saw her, the younger Sister floated down, from above, garbed in her glorious white and gold tunic, her helm and the scepter she never let go of from her grasp. "We have been expecting you." she spoke mystically. "Katrina, are you here for another fateful love reading?" that jab was uncalled for, and had she not have had any self-restrained, she would have ripped her throat out. Not that she could, per se. "Out of my way." Kratos tried to step aside, but was unable to. "Your resolve is admirable - Even if it is... Misguided. None can change their destiny, Kratos. You should ask your dear friend for that confirmation. It was I who deemed that the Titans lose the Great War and I who have allowed you to come this far. It is not your destiny to kill Zeus!" Lahkesis grabbed the man's shoulder, only to be shaken away. "You no longer control my destiny." the Spartan claimed with great conviction.  "I see Gaia has filled you with her lies." Gaia? Katrina thought. So Kratos went from being lied by the Gods, to being a pawn for the Titans. A common enemy did not necessarily mean you can a common ground to stand on as well. "I have warned you! Let me pass!" the general grabbed the Sister by her throat - But it was in vain. She merely laughed at him, as if he was a child.  "You have always amused us, Kratos. You should have seen how pitiful your little friend was, crying, when we told her that! When we tore you away from her! She was horrified at the prospect of you being a source of entertainment for us!" she mocked the Goddess with every breath she drew. Kratos did not take the mockery lightly. Not when it came to his life and future. "Know this, mortal. There is NO power greater than the Sisters of Fate. If you challenge us - You will die." Kratos was the first to launch his attack upon the younger sister, with his lover following close behind. "Kratos, be on high alert! Atropos might come at any moment! She is the one who cuts the Threads!" came the warning for the Spartan.

Though the battle with the Sister who embellished the threads was not as difficult as he had expected, especially with the aid of the Rage that Gaia gifted to him, Katrina's fear came to fruition, and the elder sister arrived to rescue Lahkesis. From a great darkness, the ugly one appeared, cackling like an old hag and threatening to cut their thread. Though she flew around in an attempt to capture Kratos, Katrina pushed him to the side and commanded her spear to attack the elder sister, controlling it with every twitch of her fingers.

"O, but I am scared of a little flower girl! Tell me, silly girl, how was it, seeing the love of your life marry another? Did it break your heart? Did you want to kill yourself? I am sure my sister made it so!" that haunting squack-like laughter was making the Spartan overspill with anger to the brims. "Or, mayhaps you cried another river? Did you name it yet? Is it bigger than the previous one?" all those taunts, though painful, worked naught in her attempt to make the Goddess lose her focus. "Ah, you remained as boring as ever. Cutting your thread is going to serve as a blessing, rather than a curse for you. Be surprised no further than none of the Gods like you, O, prosaic one!" her mockery had no end, but her cockiness was going to become her downfall. Atropos, for the first time, saw her own blood being spilled to the ground, after the Goddess managed to land a clear cut across her face. "NO! You URCHIN! How DARE you maim me?! You and that Ghost of Sparta will pay for this!" working in tandem, Lahkesis was able to trap Kratos in a corner and Atropos was ready to take him inside one of her mirrors - But the Goddess of Nature was not about to let that happen. Summoning the vines to grab onto the arms of the elder one and drag her away, Atropos became blinded with rage by the constant challenge of the Goddess, and began an attack - Attack that she had not foreseen. "KATRINA! NO!" Katros yelled as he noticed the spear being recalled... Through the bodies of Katrina and Atropos. The serene look on the Goddess's face made it obvious that she had this planned for a while - But the Fate was having none of it. She tried to trash around, hoping to escape, but was bound by the vines holding her body on the long polearm.  "Shall we see what memory of the past you wanted to visit, Atropos?" with another flick of her hand, Katrina sent the spear flying towards the mirror that was readied for Kratos. She would not allow anyone to torment him any further.

She had not expected that old memory to be the time of the battle with Ares - And she was on the Blade of the Gods, throwing attack after attack aimed at the banshee-like Fate. If she had known defeating her was this easy, she would have gotten her revenge long ago. Alas... "Katrina! Here!" Kratos, in an attempt to save the Goddess, had jumped inside the mirror - In front of him, he did not see only the red haired woman on the sword, but their old, great selves - He was on the ground, clutching onto her flower while she tried desperately to fend off the God of War. So this is how that happened, he realised. What an awful memory to re-live, Kratos thought. Still, for someone like her to stand up so bravely against a war-seasoned warrior, it took a lot of courage. Now, he had to do the same for her.  In a flurry of moves, he ran by her side, slashing at the pesky Fate as to disorient her, before bringing Katrina out of there - And trapping her on the other side of the mirror. It was the perfect outcome, and it allowed the woman enough time to heal her wounds.  "I am through playing games with you, Kratos! This power was never meant for a mortal like you!" it had only taken the two a second of misplaced attention to become separated - Lahkesis used her scepter to throw Kratos away, only to be dragged into a mirror by Atropos. "Kratos!" Katrina called out to him, unsure of what to do. Lahkesis was ready to break the mirror, and if that should be done, Kratos would be unable to leave whatever that memory was, but Atropos would just find another mirror. "You are awful! Why did you have to be so cruel, Lahkesis?! Everyone always called you the benevolent one of the three Sisters! Could you not just have let me go that day?! None of this needed to happen! Olympus, the mortals, the titans - Nothing would have gone into complete disarray, were it not for your morbid need of constantly seeking amusement in destroying the lives of men and Gods alike!" the red haired woman reproached the younger sister, who merely shook her head. "Some events are just fated to happen - And so will Kratos learn, once he sees that through which you have gone, out of sheer desperation and selfishness." it did not take much more explaining for the green eyes woman to realise where Kratos was trapped in. "Why -- Why there? Why him?! That is not a memory that could kill him, no less - What will you gain out of that indirect torment?!" that which she had learnt pained her so. "Merely a chuckle, mayhaps. It all depends on the actions taken by my sister." but Lahkesis used the short time frame as an opportunity to attempt and destroy said mirror - Attempt failed, as the Goddess was far too angry to let go of this derision. "Mayhaps it is time for you to read your own fate, Lahkesis. Who knows - Some events might be altered." protecting that mirror with every ounce of strength she had in her body, she only prayed that Kratos would escape that memory already - And be well.

On the other side of the reflection, however, Kratos was forced to witness the sobbing of the Goddess as she was told the pitiful, altered fate of her beloved. The humiliation and agony she must have felt were only a fraction of what she depicted during her earlier confession. To know that you may mean nothing for the one that your heart is bound to must be tearing. Having Lysandra taken away was the most painful tragedy of his life - But if Katrina were to be torn away from his life, he would feel the very same - Distraught to the very brink of madness. 

"ENOUGH! Enough games! I am done playing games with the Sisters of Fate!" he could do nothing to deviate that memory - The damage was already done, and he could not undo the weaving of the Thread - What he could do, however, is make wiser choices and protect the last remaining dear one he had alive. He did not listen to the taunting cackled from the old hag - Instead, he threw he blades at her once more, slashing her away with ease, before jumping through in his own realm of the present. "Are you alright, my love?!" Katrina called out, relieved to see him being alive and well. "Let us end this foolishness already." with a nod of approval, the two began breaking the last remaining mirrors, so that Atropos would be unable to escape the past, forever to linger there, trapped in her own cruelty and misery that she created - And, in the end, the two were able to throw the younger sister into the last mirror, breaking it before they could escape.

It had been a long battle, but a worthy one.

After catching her breath, Katrina hurried to his side, holding his face in worry. "Kratos, I--" she wanted to apologise - He could see that she held knowledge of that which he had witnessed - But there was no need for any regrets. Instead, the man had kissed her dearly, all fear that she would dissipate into the air brought into that shared emotion. "Do not apologise. What I had seen - I now understand. Blame yourself no further and rid of your guilt." looking into her sparkling eyes was better than counting the stars on the night sky, that was how dazed he felt, gazing into her lovestruck expression of hers. Some said the eyes were the mirror into one's soul, and though he paid no mind about such a saying, he could not see - There was no need to express love. You could see it, clearer than the spring water. "We are close to reaching our goal. Let us proceed further and end this, once and far all. Are you with me?" but the melting smile of her sweet lips was enough of an answer. "I will always be by your side, Kratos. Be that in life, or in death - It makes no difference for me, as long as I can hold you in mine arms." that smile - Kratos knew he had to protect that smile at all cost. It was the only thing keeping him alive. Revenge was his fuel, but the love he held was what was keeping him still sane, despite all that he had gone through.

The next chamber was by far the largest one, and everywhere you could see countless threads, akin to spider webs. Clotho, the middle sister, also the neutral one, was in her giant silkworm form. She always held her work as sacred, and never took a break from it. "It is through my threads that all life is born." despite being a creator of life, in a way, akin to the red haired Goddess by his side... He could not help but feel disgusted by the grotesque imagery before his eyes. "You must not tamper with destiny, Kratos. You will destroy everything." no. It was not him that destroyed everything - It was the very hand of Fate that put this imminent Deicide into motion. It mattered little that it was by his hand, or another's - The events that were taking place were bound to happen, sooner or later. It was all a result of the Gods' endless greed. "You will never control your thread, Kratos!" Kratos was deaf to all of her warnings - He was going to control the mirrors of fate that were going to help him travel through time and stop his death caused by the betrayal of Zeus.

Climbing up the body of the Silkworm Fate was by far their easiest task yet, Kratos realised, as they hurried in great haste to the top level that held the head and front pair of arms. With the help of a well aimed giant blade into her temple, the Ghost of Sparta killed the last of the Fates easier than he had killed any other enemy of his. "You have done it, Kratos! This is wonderous! Up there, there is a lever that will reveal the threads. Go pull it and wait there, in front of the mirror. I will search for your thread, and once it is found, you will jump into the mirror. I will await you here, my love. Will you be alright by yourself?" the woman asked, touching her forehead to his - Their special means of showing their love for one another. "Of course. About time I finally show Zeus that of which I am made of." Kratos spoke, stealing one last kiss from the beautiful Goddess before him, as he ran up to the fated mirror. With great ease, Katrina was able to find the Thead and wove it, finding the exact moment needed for Kratos to return in the past.

As the Spartan jumped on the other side, he ran at Zeus, pushing him away from his past self. "How can this be? The Sisters of Fate have aided you. Unexpected..." Zeus seemed genuinely surprised by such a divine intervention. Alas, he was wrong. "The Sisters are dead." Kratos spoke solemnly, grabbing the Blade of Olympus from the ground. "Hmm, I have underestimated you. A mistake I do not intend to repeat." Zeus, calling his lightning powers, brought Kratos on an arena somewhere above the skies, where the two had fought to the last bit of their strength - But much to the dismay and horror of the great Leader of Olympus, Zeus was losing, upon the Summit of the Sacrifice. He was thrown around, had his head bashed on rocks and pillars trampling over his body - Yet just before he had almost been killed - When the Blades were impaling his hands onto a boulder, the Blade of Olympus digging deep into his belly - Athena appeared out of thin air, using her two swords to drive Kratos away from the Father God. "You cannot do this, Kratos!" "You DARE stand against me, Athena?!" the Spartan growled at the Goddess of Wisdom who has wronged him so many times before. "I do not wish to fight you, Kratos! But I WILL defend Olympus!" Athena was capable of keeping Kratos at bay - But not for long. "Know this, my son. You have started a war you cannot possibly win. That flower girl alone will never be able to help you overthrow the reign of the Gods." within the time Athena bought him, Zeus was able to stand up and walk away from the commotion. "The Fates have already deemed ME victorious!" "No, Kratos! Stop!" in his rage, Kratos pushed past the Goddess of Wisdom - But he did not foresee her jumping in front of the blade, sacrificing herself, just to save Zeus. "Athena! No!" though she wronged him endlessly, Kratos was never able to hate her. He did not intend to kill those who did not stand in his way - And Athena was a victim in all this. Taking the sword away from her body, he caught her in his arms and lay her down, allowing enough time for Zeus to escape. "Why do you sacrifice yourself?" he asked, filled with misery at having to kill yet another innocent one. "To save Olympus." she replied - The same answer she always had for him. "I do not seek to destroy Olympus. Only Zeus." Kratos explained - But it was meaningless.  For once, Athena's words were true. "Zeus IS Olympus!" "Zeus brought this upon himself." the man sneered, holding onto the disappearing form of the dying Goddess. "Because of fear, Kratos. A fear felt by his father, Cronos. A fear that wrought the Great War. A fear that drove Zeus to kill you." she explained with her last remaining strength. "His own son." she spoketh, her hand on his face, making sure he looks her deep in her eyes when she reveals the truth. "His son?!" he was flabbergast from this knowledge. "Katrina did not know - Do not blame her for not telling you. Hermes was forced to swear secrecy from her, in fear that she may inform you." her voice was getting weaker with every word she uttered. "Just as Zeus was compelled to destroy his father, Cronos, you are compelled to do the same. No son should destroy his own father!" "And a father should never have to bury his own child, Athena - Yet not only did I have to do so, but he would have me die, for his fear." he was angered at the audacity the Goddess had, protecting a man who would murder his own child out of sheer paranoid fears. "No, Athena, I have no father." he had his family, and they were no more. He needn't any more members.  "God after God will deny you, Kratos. They will protect Zeus. Zeus must live, so that Olympus will prevail." were her last words, before he faded away into emerald specks that flew into the breeze. "If all on Olympus will deny my vengeance, then all on Olympus will die." was Kratos's oath to himself. He did not come this far, to turn back. Even if he did, Zeus would chase him to the ends of the world to kill him - That was no life, nor was it the life he wanted for Katrina. He did not want to endanger her anymore. He will end this cycle once and for all, and with it, so will his life of revenge, and hopefully, he would be allowed, with due help, to embark on a path of redemption. "I have lived in the shadow of the Gods for long enough. The time of the Gods has come to an end!" this was a declaration of war, and by far, the one that the Spartan felt strongest in his heart.

With that, he went back to the mirror, only to see the temple beginning to cumber down. "Hurry, Kratos! This place will go down any second!" the Goddess holding tightly onto his thread called out to him. "Roll back the thread until I tell you to stop. Reach out here and I will pull you with me. Are you ready?" he called back, staring deep into the murky mirror. "Understood!" she proceeded to weave the thread further and further on, until she heard the signal - Once sent, she used a liana to get to Kratos's location faster, and from there, she was dragged inside the mirror without as much as having time to see where they would be transported. It did not take long to realise, however, their time and space coordinates. The chaos they were brought in was none other than the Great Titan War. "Gaia!" Kratos called out to the Mother Titan. "You. Are. Crazy." Katrina's eyes were wide, and for once, she was truly speechless, standing before the mighty Titan of Earth who was bending down to their minuscule level. She felt intimidated and afraid, thus, hiding behind Kratos's fearless body. "We have been expecting you, Ghost of Sparta. The Gods are far too powerful for us to defeat now." the titan informed. "All Olympus tremble at my name! Zeus is weak. Ares and Athena are dead - And I wield the blade! We can win the Great War - But not in this time!" Kratos spoke the same as back then, as a renowned Spartan General. Still, the notion that Athena was finally gone, unable to poison Kratos's mind was a source of happiness for the Goddess - With the small exception that now Gaia and whatever Titans were left, would take her place - Perhaps, even worse. "Together, we WILL destroy the petty Gods, and we WILL see Olympus crumble before us!" he truly was a leader worth following, if even cowards like Katrina were compelled to follow him into battle, whatever the outcome. "Come with me, Gaia. Return to my time! Victory awaits!" a strange lighting armor engulfed the Spartan, and with such power, they were transported in their own time, along with many of the titans present - Only to find themselves climbing up the Mountain of Olympus.

Holding with dear life onto Kratos, who was keeping himself upright by clinging on a tree on Gaia's back, Katrina could not help but look with worry at her beloved. "Kratos... Promise me. No matter what, you will think twice before trust anyone, be they Gods or Titans. Can you do that?"  "As long as Zeus dies, I care not for such things. Allies and a steady army are vital for a victorious war." he informed, scorning up at the cloud-hidden kingdom. "Yes - Allies. An army. You may use them against a common foe - But do not believe that they may never betray you. Remember Athena. Remember Ares. Remember all the Gods you put your faith into - And do not repeat the same mistake ever again. Can you promise me that, my love?" with a caress of her cheek, the man grunted in approval. "I will exercise caution against any who is not you. Fear no further, I shall not give you reason to worry. Stand by my side, so that I can protect you. Understood?" was his command, which she followed with a smile. "Understood, General Kratos." her light-hearted comment was enough to embolden the rage-filled Spartan even further - Upon seeing the top of the mountain and the horrified faces of the Olympians, Kratos was ready for his official declaration of war.

ZEUS! YOUR SON HAS RETURNED! I BRING THE DESTRUCTION OF OLYMPUS!

In the end... 

There will be only chaos.

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[buriedunderneath]

❝ HELL IS EMPTY AND ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERE. ❞

 ⸻  ᚠᚱᛟᛗ  ⸻  kat mcnamara. cisfemale. she/her. ⸻  i saw EMILIA FINLEY around THE TOWN, you know? the  TWENTY EIGHT years old that was driving from BROOKLYN when they saw the tree on the road. FINN has been here for ONE DAY and i think they were LAW STUDENT before they got stuck in the town. with the way things are now, they are now struggling to maintain a sense of normalcy and  seek a way out without losing themselves or dying.  lets hope you at least survive the night. ⸻ hermy, she/her,  29, n/a triggers.  .  ⸻

GENERAL   INFORMATION.  ⸻

full   name: emilia finley.

nickname(s): finn.

age: twenty-eight.

gender   identity: cisfemale, she/her.

orientation: heterosexual.

place   of   birth: brooklyn, new york.

date   of   birth: july 11th, 1995.

former   occupation: law student and law intern.

3   positive traits: clever, resourceful, caring.

3   negative traits: stubborn, snobbish, cold.

moral alignment: lawful neutral.

faceclaim: katherine mcnamara.

TOWN   INFORMATION.  ⸻

current   residency : town.

current   occupation: waitress at the diner.

BIOGRAPHY   YOUR   CHARACTER'S   BACKGROUND.  ⸻

tldr is that EMILIA FINLEY grew up on the upper west side of manhattan, new york, into a family full of lawyers. her grandfather made partner at the upper east side law firm that later became known as watson, wilks and finley, a prominent law firm that dealt with crime on all scales. her father works full time as lead lawyer, and growing up, finn was always interested in the world of law.

growing up as the SECOND oldest of her family, finn was always the one to go to for advice, for stabilization. her logic and resourceful nature something that was very much needed within the finley household. when finn was about sixteen years old, her mother got into a bad motor vehicle accident - with her father driving. her father was, privately and to no one's knowledge in the world besides his own family - a functioning alcoholic unlike any other.

her mother became wheelchair bound and because her finn's extreme law connections, no one was ever the wiser on what happened that night in the accident, and the family doesn't speak of it. however, finn's older brother and younger sister both know that happened that night, and it tore her father apart.

the family never truly recovered after that - and finn never really did either. she felt a traumatic hatred for her father, who he had become, and took up being her mother's caregiver as much as she could with her brother being away at school. her mother never blamed a single soul for what happened to her, but it only fueled finn's rage even more each day - thus getting her law degree.

her brother and sister always wanted something else for themselves, but finn wanted the same career path as her father, almost out of spite, so she could become bigger and better than him - take over the law firm and shove him out. call it revenge for what he did - although he always knew how badly he screwed up that night. apologies were enough for finn and she studied her ass off.

in law school, finn studied most nights - but one night she was dragged out by her friends to the bar and met easton james. she wasn't opened very much to meeting anyone, but when they started speaking, it became clear that they liked one another. he could keep up with her wit, and keep up with her work ethic, as he was studying to become a doctor. the two of them had much in common and eventually moved in together, living in brooklyn.

COMING INTO THE TOWN !

being an intern now at her father's law firm, working most nights and living a good life with her boyfriend, the two had decided to take a little summer vacation.

finn was insistent on the fact that she had to finish up a case file and so she knew easton went ahead with friends - and she was meant to catch up with him later. driving into the TOWN, after having not heard from easton for a full day - it is at first mystifying to her.

as a very SANE and logical person, finn didn't know what she was in for - assuming this was all a bad dream, that she'd wake up back in brooklyn, but it wasn't anything but. truly, she tried her phone first, but nothing worked - nothing at all, until it all slowly became clear to her. she wasn't getting out.

horrified, broken hearted by it all, finn has only had a day to adjust to this life, trying to distract herself the best she can, but she still is trying to take a logical approach to things - serve at the diner, go on the most normal she can, but she puts on a brave face.

who will take care of her mother, who will get back to easton, who will she become within the confines of a world that she doesn't quite understand?

[tinydcner]

"I'm not going to stay with someone i'm not happy with. they deserve better and so do i."

name: arlene takahashi

pronouns: she/her

birthday: december 12th

age: 19

zodiac: sagittarius

sexual orientation: lesbian (in the closet)

major: cinema studies

aesthetics: dancing anywhere and everywhere, late night study sessions fueled by iced coffee, succeeding at something out of spite, her switch and animal crossing in her backpack at all times, reading comics to decompress after a long day, slow dancing on the roof = perfect date.

headcanons:

-arlene has an interesting dynamic with her family. they have been supportive of her dancing, but when it comes to other aspects of her life they have never clearly stated how they would feel. the unknown scares her more than the known, especially when it comes to her sexuality.

-arlene’s friendship with hunter started in high school. the two were extremely close and most people assumed that they two were dating. arlene always brushed off these rumors because people are idiots, but it wasn’t long before she realized that hunter had actual feelings for her. the two tried the whole dating thing, but when it ended things spiraled out of control completely destroying any chances of them being friends.

[mrseeker]

Seekers journal

Journal Entry 1: The Fall

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

My name is Seeker, once a celestial being entrusted to protect and guide humanity. However, I have now become a fallen angel, cast out from the heavens. The reasons behind my fall haunt my thoughts day and night. It all began with my insatiable curiosity and unyielding desire for knowledge. Seeking wisdom beyond my divine station, I delved into forbidden realms and unraveled secrets better left concealed.

As the tendrils of darkness gripped my being, I felt a gradual, irresistible pull away from the light. The allure of forbidden knowledge consumed me, blinding me to the consequences of my actions. And so, I embraced my newfound liberation, shunning the celestial bureaucracy that sought to suffocate my thirst for understanding.

My banishment from the heavens was swift and severe, and as I descended through the ethereal mists, my wings, once shimmering with divine radiance, were tainted with shadows. Falling from the heavens, I landed upon this Earth, now stripped of my celestial duties and plagued by a profound sense of loss.

Journal Entry 2: Experiences in the Mortal Realm

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

Since my fall, I have traversed this mortal realm, exploring the depths and heights of human existence. I have watched empires rise and crumble, witnessed the euphoria of birth and the despair of death. As an eternal being burdened with mortality, I gained a depth of understanding I could never have comprehended before.

The human experience is teeming with contradictions — both immense suffering and indescribable joys. I have marvelled at their resilience, in spite of their inherent flaws. Mortals possess a unique capacity for love and a fervent pursuit of happiness. These experiences have ignited a glimmer of hope within my fallen heart, a flicker of redemption I never deemed possible.

Journal Entry 3: Embracing the Unlikely

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

Today, I find myself in the company of Sue Kingdom, an unlikely savior adorned in the form of a male penguin. Sue, a once-lonely creature with a heart as vast as the sea, took me in without hesitation. Despite our physical differences, a kinship formed, bound by our shared sense of being outcasts seeking solace in each other's company.

Sue's loyalty to his newfound family is unwavering, and he introduced me to the world of the Kingdom, a sanctuary for those shunned by society. Here, I am seen as more than just a fallen angel; I am valued for the person I have become amidst my trials. Together, Sue and I stand against a common foe, the Chicken Army, a force that seeks chaos and domination.

Journal Entry 4: The Third Strongest Army

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

Today marks a significant turning point in my journey. I have joined the OMS, the Kingdom's third strongest army, seeking to protect my newfound family and rid the world of the Chicken Army's tyranny. Led by who cares, whose tactical brilliance is renowned across the mortal realms, the OMS stands as a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.

Within the ranks of the OMS, I am no longer a fallen angel but merely a comrade, united by a common purpose. Here, my skills are honed, and my former celestial powers are transformed into a formidable force to be reckoned with. The strength I once wielded as a guardian of the heavens has found new purpose on this terrestrial battleground oms was formed by our leader awesome cat I was the first member.

Journal Entry 5: A Glimpse of Redemption

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

Today, as I fought alongside my comrades in the OMS, there was a fleeting moment where I felt a semblance of my former self. Embracing the chaos and danger of battle, I tapped into the righteous fury that once fueled my divine powers. For a brief moment, the light within me shone brightly, instilling hope in the hearts of those fighting alongside me.

But as quickly as it came, the flicker of my former glory vanished, leaving me yearning for more. Though I am still a fallen angel, I have started to question whether redemption and forgiveness can truly be attained.

Journal Entry 6: The Suffering of Mortals

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

The more time I spend in the mortal realm, the more I bear witness to the immense suffering that plagues humanity. The weight of their pain and struggles is oppressive, often leaving me feeling helpless in the face of such adversity.

Yet, amidst their suffering, I see the indomitable spirit of mortals. They persist, they fight, and they find solace in one another. It is through these valiant acts that I am reminded of the innate goodness that exists within humanity.

Journal Entry 7: A Glimmer of Hope

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

Today, we were able to rescue a village from the clutches of the Chicken Army. The joy and gratitude that radiated from the villagers touched my fallen heart. In that moment, I realized that even as a fallen angel, I can still make a difference in this world.

Perhaps my fall from grace was not an act of punishment but rather an opportunity for growth and redemption. In the depths of my despair, a glimmer of hope has emerged, and with it, a renewed determination to fight for what is right.

Journal Entry 8: Struggles Within

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

As the days pass, I find myself grappling with an internal struggle. A part of me yearns to be embraced by the heavens once more, to regain the sense of purpose and belonging I once possessed. But another part of me recognizes the beauty and value in the mortal realm, where my experiences have granted me a level of understanding that I could never attain as a celestial being.

I am torn between these two worlds, unsure of where I truly belong. For now, I will continue to walk the path laid before me, trusting that clarity will come in time.

Journal Entry 9: Betrayal and Heartbreak

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

Today, a comrade I held dear revealed their allegiance to the Chicken Army. The shock and betrayal cut deep, leaving me questioning the true intentions of those around me. It is a painful reminder that even in the pursuit of righteous causes, darkness can still seep through the cracks.

This betrayal has awakened a dormant anger within me, directing my focus towards eradicating the darkness that plagues this world. I will not allow the actions of one to overshadow the resilience and goodness that still exists within humanity.

Journal Entry 9: losing a brother

Date: Unknown

Dear Journal,

We lost a friend someone close to me forever let necron be missed

End of journals