#for two and a half years we stayed silent to you and you cannot stop

[grizzcore]

it’s so telling that you still think we’re going to ever apologize to you when youve literally terrorized our family and traumatized my partner so badly they can’t make friends anymore and needed to to be put into therapy for the trauma you caused -

because your intense emotional abuse over the short time we were ever pleasant to you and then prolonged stalking behavior you’ve exhibited since we cut you off over two and a half years ago, including sending letters to our home after knowing you weren’t ever even supposed to know our address, posting about us on an average of once every week for over two and a half years since we went fully no contact with you for our own safety , writing and posting a SONG ? ABOUT KNOWING WHERE WE LIVE ?? AND ADDRESSING OUR FEAR OF YOU IN SAID SONG??, attempting to shoehorn your way back into our lives countless times despite our only request be that you fully stay away from us, copying our personal styles to a degree of uncanny-ness that even YOUR PARTNER POINTED IT OUT TO HIS MOTHER, and repeatedly calling my husband SLURS ?? MAKING A POST ABOUT MY HUSBANDS RAPIST YOU NEVER KNEW AT ALL AFTER WE HAD ALREADY CUT YOU OFF? Showing up to family events you KNEW YOU WERE NOT WELCOME AT TO BREAK THE NO CONTACT??

Oh and the repeated act of calling yourself a lesbian on this app while ACTIVELY DATING MY BROTHER IN LAW which I cannot even fathom the reasoning behind other than the same wanting to wear our skinness of it all and the jealously you clearly have about lesbianism which I’m not going to sit here and speculate about because its your business, even if it is gross to see as an actual lesbian

All of this. All of this because my partner and I were VICTIMS OF A VIOLENT HATE CRIME two and a half years ago, and while he was venting about the homophobic violence we had JUST SURVIVED , my partner called you straight - and when you corrected him and told him you were bi- which he GENUINELY DIDNT KNOW- he CORRECTLY called you straight passing - which you then had ‘your partner’ (we know you wrote that text) text my husband a paragraph long attack about how you are actually bi and nonbinary and only present femme because of a homophobic home life.

Which …. STILL MADE YOU STRAIGHT PASSING??

You then continue to insist we had to know you were bi because we had followed your insta where you apparently had your pronouns in your bio and posted about queerness -

Newsflash for you . We didn’t look at your insta, because we didn’t care. We are older than you and at the time we met you were a minor and we were in our early 20s and frankly weren’t interested in a close friendship with you at that time. You did not get that and started latching onto us and getting very offended any time we pointed out that we were much older than you. Which is hilarious considering you now paint this as we were adults who started “stalking your social media” since you were a minor - which isn’t even true. We didn’t start regularly watching your social media until you were an adult. People had sent us screenshots of your abuse towards us before then, and we had followed you until the no contact WE ESTABLISHED, but other than that we very rarely saw your socials unless promoted to by someone else informing us you had posted something about us.

Newsflash two- Being straight passing isn’t an insult, it’s a privilege. One you have , undeniably. someone pointing out your privilege isn’t an insult, though I know you struggle with this as you have the biggest victim mentality of anyone I ever met, which is crazy considering you wanted to become a cop when we met- and you being offended that people who are ACTUALLY visibly queer and who face VIOLENCE in the face of that did not appreciate you trying so desperately hard to relate to the real aggression faced by visibly queer people (and I mean VISIBLY as in you can look at someone and tell they are queer, not that you announce your queerness to everyone you deem safe to do so. There is a difference between visible queerness and being uncloseted - nether of which you fully were at the time.) as in ACTUALLY FACED because a man tried to KILL US WITH A BRICK ?? We only got away by risking our lives driving into opposite traffic while actively sobbing with fear for our lives??

You then recently right after we moved back to our home state, something we were horrified of BECAUSE OF YOU- had your sibling who you’ve described as “a violent cyber stalker with homicidal tendencies” start harassing my partner because *checks notes* he liked Harry Potter when he WAS A KID????

At which point we involved two mental health professionals, a social worker- and the police. Who instructed us to watch your social media to keep track of your aggression toward us because you seemed to be escalating toward violence.

You are still obsessively angry two and half years later because my partner wouldn’t falsely let you claim to relate to the violent homophobia faced by actual butch lesbians, especially those who are in butch4butch relationships that can be perceived as gay men on sight.

You were a flowy blouse and long skirt wearer with long brown hair dating a cisgender man who- listen here! Important info! EXCLUSIVELY REFFERED TO YOU BY SHE/HER PRONOUNS AND “GIRLFRIEND” UNTIL FAR, FAR AFTER ALL OF THIS.

So no, basil. We genuinely didn’t know you were nonbinary and bi until that conversation, nor does it make you and your partner any less straight passing. No one would hate crime you for the act of being in the car with your boyfriend.

You can be mad for the rest of your life that we don’t like you. You can be angry we feel unsafe because of you and your laundry list of volatile actions.

The only thing we ever did was tell you that you were straight passing, and then tell you later to leave us alone because of how horribly you reacted and for so long. And for this we have been subjected to years, literal years, of torment from an obsessed ruminator who cannot unlatch from their cycle of emotional disregulation to take a step back and think “hey maybe me posting about these guys who asked me to leave them alone all of the time , writing a song about them, sending a letter to their house in a different state, telling them I’m glad they’re scared of me, vague posting about them constantly, (this is the first time we’ve ever posted about you!) , sent my emotionally unwell sibling with cyber stalking issues after them, and then knowingly showing up to a family event I know I’m not supposed to go to because one of them who is particularly afraid of me because of the way I I targeted him so hard with my aggression when we were still friends and I was really unwell and then blew up at him repeatedly was going to be there, maybe… maybe I really should leave them alone. Stop posting about them. Maybe I’m causing years of trauma to two people who’s biggest crime was feeling unsafe around me when I was really unwell and now they don’t want to forgive me for the way I behaved because it was so damaging to them. Maybe I should just let this go. Maybe I have been the bad person in this scenario and just don’t understand how hard of a boundary has been set here.”

Instead of that you’re angry you won’t get your way and have us crawl back to you apologizing so you can , what? what exactly? tell us to go fuck ourselves ??

We don’t owe you an apology. We owe you nothing. No one owes you anything, not even validation. We don’t even want an apology from you- which we told you when we cut you off, the last time we ever contacted you in any way, directly or indirectly. We just want you to stay away from us and stop posting about us, because the trauma you caused by the constant trauma dumping, constant over attached behavior, lack of understanding of boundaries, the aggression you showed my husband, the lies you told me, the stalking behavior, the song, the letter

You need serious , serious help. All we want is for you to stop. We have had to feel unsafe for years because you were offended once.

We know you looked up to us. We get it’s hard to be cut off from people you had insisted were roll models to you. But your own behavior is what landed you there. You could not listen to basic boundaries and you were causing lasting harm even before you escalated to … all of this

I intended to never contact you in any way, and I will stick to that. I will continue to watch your blog as that is what , again, two mental health professionals, a social worker, and the police told us was necessary to protect ourselves because you behave in a way that indicates serious harm could come from you in the future and we need to document your threats and harassment to defend yourselves from you.

I asked them not to confront you because I felt guilt to even involve the police in this. I genuinely don’t want you hurt. I just want you to stop. Stop posting. Stop watching us. Stop talking about us.

My husband called you straight passing after someone tried to murder him - and for that? For that? we live in constant fear, not of the man who laughed while trying to kill us, but of YOU for making it an event we can never move past because you cannot stop bringing it up with no context and using it to justify your blind, unending, misdirected rage you will continue to take out on us until the second you are happy with who you are without the need for our validation

Let me make this very clear : you are not forgiven. We are not sorry. You are NOT welcome in our lives. You NEED to leave us alone. You are NOT welcome to our family homes. You are NOT going to hear from us directly , ever again. This is the last message I’ll ever write to you until it turns into a court date if your postings don’t stop.

You will never meet our children and if your partner is still with you when they are born; he will not be meeting them either. His disrespect of bringing you to an event he knew his brother would be at solidified to us both that he cannot be trusted to handle delicate family matters respectfully.

My husband has developed seriously debilitating mental health issues because of the stress this has caused. That is YOUR legacy. That two people cutting you off because of how badly you handled your emotions made you so angry you decided it was worth dedicating years of your life to mentally destroying them.

When I knew you you complained often that people abandon you with no reason. That people “intentionally misunderstood” you.

No, basil. People see you. People know that you have serious issues they don’t have the capacity to handle and they grow tired of the lashing out and excuses.

You try so hard , so so hard to ruin our lives and I’m done sitting down and taking it silently.

You’re a monster. You are the single most unwell person I’ve ever met. You made the trauma of two gay people almost getting murdered - about you, somehow - and yet cannot stop this insistence that we make everything about ourselves.

Basil you don’t know us. You barely let us speak in the time we knew you. You took up all the space over sharing, trauma dumping, and lying. We tried hard, and even after my husband realized what you were and distanced himself, I tried really hard to be there for you. I let you tell me anything, I really really tried to support you. But the second I told you that dating during the first year of sobriety was really dangerous and typically lead to abusive behavior and that no real reputable rehab program would encourage you to stay in a relationship you were in while actively using? you split on me so hard it was like a movie. And then you lied and tried so , so hard to convince everyone I made the whole thing up even when you WENT TO THE REHAB I RECOMMENDED. Which is the weirdest gaslighting I’ve ever experienced , to be honest.

I know this post is all over the place. I don’t care to lay it out by timeline- you know what you did. Or maybe you really don’t. Maybe your continued insistence that you don’t understand why people leave you is true. Maybe this stuff is so natural to you it rolls right off your back and doesn’t even register as damaging. Who knows.

What I do know ? Is that you’re never welcome back in our lives. And you’re certainly not getting an “apology”.

[astraystayyh]

All for you

skz and the vows they'd write for you.

fluff. gn reader. word count-3.9k. listen to video games by lana del rey if you can!!!

a.n: thank you to @a-cute-french-fry and @dorisnumber1fan for brainstorming some of these with me <3 i made myself very delulu with this so ENJOY. happy 3k!!! i love you all muahhh <3

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 chan ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

Chan's warm hands are in yours, fingers tangled with one another tightly- like the sturdy roots of an ancient tree.

“Baby,” he calls out softly, and you can already feel tears well up in your eyes at the tenderness in his voice. His thumb reaches out instinctively to wipe the lone tear that managed to escape. His right hand remains on your cheek, cradling it gently.

“Seungmin always liked to joke that I was nearly half-fifty-two. Then half fifty-three on my next birthday,” he starts, as a faint giggle escapes your lips. “That's how I counted time too, with the different days I lived… That is until I met you.” He pauses, a shaky breath leaving him and crashing onto you. “Suddenly I was no longer twenty-six. I was one week old since I met you. Three months since I’ve loved you. And then five years since you changed my life. Years no longer marked the passage of my time. It was you who marked the passage of me.”

“I always had this idea in my head, that I was only worth loving easily. If I diluted all my problems, concealed all my flaws and insecurities to please the ones around me, only then was I deserving of love. But you...” His eyes soften, even more so than they were before. “But you loved me, you loved me on my happy days, and on my darkest ones. You loved me, even when I couldn't understand it, even when I couldn't see what was there to care for in me. So, thank you, for showing me that I am worthy of love, simply because I am me. Thank you for choosing to be patient with me. You don't always know what to do to help, nor do I, but you try, and I try, and isn't that what love is, in the end? To take time out of your day to try, for the person you love?” His voice cracks, as sudden tears wash over his rosy cheeks.

“And I love you. I love to love you. And I cannot not love you, not when my heart beats to the melody of your existence. I promise that even when I’m eighty, I’ll always try to love you better, softer, gentler. I'll never stop trying to be worthy of your love, to be worthy of being yours. Only ever yours.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 minho ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

“Angel,” Minho smiles softly, the back of his hand brushing tenderly against your cheek. “I love you, so so much. You know that, right? I probably don't say it as much as I feel it, because I always do. Every second of my existence is spent loving you. Even when I’m not fully awake, and still floating in that hazy space between dreams and consciousness, I can still feel it deep within me that I love you. It is the one thing that ties me back to life itself.”

“And I never... I never imagined that I could adore someone this much. So much that I always think of you, always miss you, even when you're near. Because I feel as if I missed out on years of loving you, back when we didn't know each other. And I- I want to love you, hard enough so it'd feel as if I’ve done it for your entire life.” He's blinking repeatedly, you're surprised he can still read the words scribbled on his paper. You can sense that the tears glistening in his eyes are on the verge of spilling, so you grab his hand and squeeze it gently. 'I'm here', you silently say- he understands.  

“Thank you for holding my hand. Now, and every time I’ve needed you. Thank you for being here for me, with me. I... I always thought that people like me were destined to be alone. But- but being with you feels like I’m with myself. There's no need for me to pretend. Thank you for not making me pretend anymore. You are my mirror, you and I are one, and I- I hope...” He brings your hand to his chest, where his heart beats wildly- 'stay with me' it sings to you.

“I hope you can always feel my love for you. Now and when we're too old sitting on the patio of our home, and my hand is still in yours. Because my heart belongs to you, it beats for you and I breathe for you.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 changbin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

“You're breathtaking,” Changbin whispers in awe, his eyes tracing the contours of your body with each lingering look, like the brush of a skilled artist.

“So are you,” you giggle, but he shakes his head vehemently, drawing nearer to you. “You are the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I can't believe I’m marrying you,” he chuckles in disbelief, before grabbing your hand and twirling you around, showing you off for all to see. 

“Look at who I’m marrying!” he shouts with bursting excitement, as he dips you down, his nose grazing yours gently, a soft touch amidst the loud exclamations around you. 

“Still sure you want to marry him?!” Seungmin shouts from his seat and you giggle, wrapping your arm around Changbin’s waist. “I do!” 

Your laughter gradually fades, as Changbin clears his throat. His head is tilted to the side, a small, incredulous smile drawn on his lips as he contemplates the loveliness of this moment- of marrying you. 

“My baby. My beautiful baby. I think this is the happiest day of my life. But again, every day is a happy one with you. I... I've never known that love could be unconditional, that loving someone would feel as simple as breathing. Until you. Loving you doesn't feel like I’m taking something out of my being, and giving it to you. But rather, I’m nurturing something within me, a blossoming tender emotion that grows within my soul. Loving you...” he steps forward, cradling your cheeks in his warm hands. “Loving you makes me happy, immensely happy. Because you are the sunset that makes people stop in their tracks to admire it. You are the beautiful scenery that gives hope to everyone who witnesses it. And you make me feel alive. More than I’ve ever been before you.”

“And I promise...” he pauses, wide eyes trying their best to embrace each feature drawn on your face. “I promise to love you more today than I did yesterday. I promise to shoulder the pain that slips through the cracks in your heart, the one that you try so hard to conceal from me. I promise to hear your silent cries and to hug you until your soul stops bleeding. I promise to see you, even when you try to hide from me. I promise to hurt if it means you'll feel less pain. And I-” his voice trembles as it washes over your old scars, delicately erasing them from your memory. 

“I will love you. When the pain seems too big, I will love you. And when your happiness shines the brightest, I will love you. I am madly, irrevocably, desperately in love with you. My heart is tangled in yours.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 hyunjin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

“My love,” Hyunjin begins before abruptly stepping forward, pressing his lips onto yours. The kiss is dizzying and sweet, it reminds you of the figs he hand-fed you yesterday- honey dripping down his tongue onto yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispers once he steps back. “I couldn't help myself. You're so pretty,” he admits sheepishly, and you giggle, too in love to ever mind.

“Where was I? Right, hi, my love. Writing these vows was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Not because I didn't know what to say, but there is so much I wish to express, to talk about when it comes to you. How my soul seems to burn for you. How you’re my last love, but also my first, because I don’t think I’ve ever truly loved before you. Not when you are love itself. But I… I found this journal entry, from four years ago. And I want to read it to you.” He clears his throat, a useless attempt to erase the quiver in his voice.

“I used to believe that love was meant to be grandiose. Extravagant gestures and confessions that will seem too magical for any ordinary human. That’s what I craved; a love so big it would overtake my being completely. But... But tonight, you played with my hair as I laid my head on your lap. And we held hands while drinking warm tea on your couch. And it felt enough, more than enough for me to lead a beautiful life. One worth remembering, one worth commemorating. All because it’s with you.

I realize now that I no longer have to search for love all around me, because you hand it to me, so freely, so selflessly. You love me on our extraordinary days and our mundane ones. I never have to second guess it with you. We may be angry, sad, or frustrated, but the love always remains. It's the one emotion that ties us together, that anchors us to one another. My compass. You.

I don't think I ever 'fell' in love with you. Because a fall can never be gentle, it always hurts, even if for a little. And you must always get up afterward, in a minute, in an hour, in a few years. You can't stay down forever. But this, what I feel for you, the emotion that makes my heart beat is tender and soft. It feels like walking inside a home where the light is golden, the windows are wide open, and every past version of me finally finds what it was looking for all along. I want to stay in you for a while. For a long time. For the rest of my life. And I’ll do whatever it takes so you’d let me.

P.S: I am sleeping with a light heart tonight. I hope that, for as long as I’m breathing, you will always too. You deserve it, more than anyone who has ever walked this earth.”

There is a long pause, as Hyunjin’s words hang over the air; they knock the breath out of you but simultaneously fill you with life. You step forward, swiping away his tears gently. He brings your hand to his mouth, soft rosy lips brushing against your knuckles. 

 “I guess I've been writing my vows since the day I met you,” he smiles softly, delicate love overflowing from him. “Every painting, every journal entry, was to you, by you, for you. Thank you for being my home. Thank you for choosing to love me, every day. Thank you for allowing me to witness the magic that is you. I will forever and always orbit around you.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 han ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

“Have I ever told you that you're my favorite artist, sweetheart?” Han’s voice is gentle, as he begins speaking. It reminds you of the waves lapping at your feet when he proposed to you. “I feel as if, as soon as you stepped into my life, you began to paint it with the most vibrant colors. The ones I’ve been desperately longing for. Because it is hard… to see the world as a rainbow when you've felt in blacks and whites for so long.” Han’s gaze softens as he spots the tears now trailing down your cheeks. “Shh, don't cry, honey. Or I’ll start crying too, and I don't think I can stop then,” he whispers and you nod, a breathy giggle escaping your lips.  

“My mind used to be a scary place. But it no longer is, because it's now filled with thoughts of you. I like to imagine that you planted yourself a little garden there, vibrant tulips and roses. And these flowers may wither down. But they will always bloom again, watered by my love for you, and your love for me. And I hope you know that I... I'll always be there for you too. When the thoughts in your head won't quiet down, I’ll talk for as long as it takes to distract you. And when you want to sit in silence, I’ll be near you, holding your hand. And when you want to be alone, I’ll be there, lingering around the door, within your reach. In whichever shape you want me, you'll get me. I am here, I won't ever leave you.”

“And now I’m crying too” Han chuckles softly, and through the shimmering veil of your tears, you cling to his hand to see.

“I really, really don't know what I ever did to deserve you. But I know I’ll try my entire life to be worthy of you. For as long as I’m here then there will always be someone who loves you. Someone who is proud of you; for breathing, for trying, for never giving up. Please never forget that. You are my strength, my peace, my home. You are everything I have ever dreamed of in human form.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 felix ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

The golden rays reflect on Felix’s eyes as he looks down at his paper. A summer wedding- he insisted, his only condition to you. It is ridiculous, you wanted to tell him, to expect it to be any season but summer when he is the sun.

“Hi baby,” he grins, twinkling brown eyes captivating yours. “God, I’m so nervous. I rehearsed this ten times in front of chan. I think he learned it by heart now.” You giggle, as Chan’s laughter travels across the venue. “I’m not usually afraid of speaking in front of people. But you aren't anyone. I guess that's why I’m nervous. You look really beautiful today. This isn't in my papers, I just wanted to tell you. Because you are. You're always beautiful but today you're absolutely breathtaking and I can't believe I’m marrying you. Thank you for saying yes,” he pauses, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “I’m rambling, aren't I?” you nod, a wide grin on your face. You love him.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I... I'm known as the massage fairy, right? I think I might've massaged almost everyone present in this room.” The loud cheers of your friends signal that they agree.

“I used to, I mean, I do it because you get knots in places your hands can't reach, and it feels nice, for someone to ease the ache of your muscles for you. And I always thought that massages were strictly physical. That it just undoes tension in your body, nothing more, nothing less. And I never told you, because it sounded silly in my head. But I knew... I knew I loved you when you massaged my shoulders for the first time. Do you remember, baby?” he asks, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “That was two months into our relationship. Which is fairly early, but time means nothing when it comes to you.”

“My shoulders were sore, and when I told you, you stood behind me instantly. You started to massage my shoulders and I almost cried right there and then. Because your fingers worked delicately, and it felt as if you were kneading your love into my body. You lifted an invisible weight off of me that day, an emotional one. I didn't even know it was there until you touched me. That's how I knew you were different, to me. That your touch wasn't strictly physical, that it reached into depths of my soul, that it soothed aches I’m not even fully aware of,” he pauses, drawing in a deep breath.

“You already know this, but I... I never really learned how to deal with sadness, because it all happens so suddenly with me. One bad thought always brings with it ten others and suddenly I am pulled into a pool of horrible feelings. But your hands keep me afloat until I’m ready to swim by myself again. I think... I think you understand my sadness more than I do. Maybe because you're a part of me, two halves of the same heart.” His voice softens at the last word, as unshed tears glimmer in his eyes.

“I hope, I pray, that my hands massaging your sore shoulders would also reach into your soul and heal its ache. And I know I might not make you feel better, instantly, or in a day, or the following one. But I promise that I won't ever leave, even if the bad times stretch forward. I'll be with you, patiently, just as you do to me. I may not understand myself fully, but I know that my soul was crafted to love you. Every atom in me is yours, and that is enough knowledge for me.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 seungmin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

You take a step forward, brows knitted in concentration as you carefully readjust Seungmin’s black tie. Your hands then glide to his shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his suit. “Nervous?” You ask, and he responds with a subtle nod, planting a chaste kiss upon your forehead.

“Don’t be. It’s just me.”

“It’s never ‘just you’ to me.” He gently holds your chin, dainty fingers commanding a cascade of butterflies inside you. “Just look at me, okay?” You smile tenderly and he nods, taking a step backward.

Seungmin draws in a deep breath, eyes traveling over the entire room before finally settling on you.

“I’ve always liked math. I liked the security that numbers gave me, the exactitude of this science. Because one plus one equals two, and no change in our world, however grand it may be, could ever alter it. I liked things that I could grasp, that I could wrap my head around fully. Tangible rules and formulas. They were my safety net. Until you came into my life. You were the wildest variable I’ve ever encountered, and being near you made me crave things I’ve never known. You pushed me out of my comfort zone, but I wasn't afraid to fall into the unknown, because I knew you'd be there to catch me. So, you became my risks and paradoxically, my safety net, all in one.” He doesn’t look down at his paper- his kind eyes never leave yours, and you’re suddenly the only two humans existing in this world.

 “I remember a Tuesday night, two years ago. You slept over at my house, and we didn't do anything special. We just talked a lot, about everything and nothing, just saying whatever crossed our minds. And then you dozed off on my chest. You looked so... Peaceful in my arms, and I was surprised you weren't woken up by my wild heartbeat. Because I suddenly realized that I wanted a forever with you, right there and then.” You both step forward at the same time, hands reaching out blindly to hold one another.

“I’ve always found it a bit weird to crave something to last for a duration that we humans cannot grasp. Everything we know is ephemeral. Everything has a beginning and an end. So, I never really believed in forever, until you. Forever exists because I can't see myself ever not loving you,” a faint hiccup courses through him, as he looks up at the sky- an earnest attempt to stop his tears from falling. It is useless, because once he looks at you again, emotion overtakes him, rippling from him in waves.

“Even- even when we're both no longer here, and my body can no longer contain my soul. Even if I only roam in space eternally, as a small speck of light, my destination would always be you, because my love for you would be the only thing my soul would remember. The core foundation of my being, the essence of who I am is my love for you, and even if everything around me fades, the love for you will stay.” His forehead presses onto yours, a last whisper, only meant for you- “My eternity is you.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 jeongin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

Jeongin's lips graze the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse dances in fervor- for him alone. He looks self-assured, as he lets go of your hand to take out a paper from his pocket. But there is a faint blush tainting his cheeks; it travels down his neck when he clears his throat.

“Baby,” he starts, voice hoarse from barely hidden emotion- the notes of it settle inside your heart. “I don't know where we will be many years down the road, or what we will be doing. But I know that there are things that won't change between us. I know that I’ll listen to all your rants about your favorite show, and I’ll buy you ice cream when you're craving it at 3 a.m. I will still buy two bottles of my shampoo because you love to use mine more than yours. And I like it when you carry a part of me with you, even in such a subtle way. I will still give you my jacket, even when you insist you aren't cold, but I can tell, because I know you. I will...” He sucks in a deep breath, as his vision grows blurry from the tears in his waterline.

“I will make you coffee in the morning, exactly how you like it, down to how many ice cubes you use. I will warm up your towel as you shower and I will fold your laundry because I know you hate doing it. And I- I will hold your hand when we cross the road, and in crowded places, and in the lines of every coffeeshop we’ll go to. I will run my fingers down your spine when you're about to sleep, and I will-” Jeongin's tears splatter across the paper, smudging its black ink. His lips are quivering, as the paper shakes in his hands.

“I will kiss your tiny bruises and remind you to breathe on- on days where...” Jeongin crumples the paper in his hand as he finally looks at you. He’s crying, a stream of tears trailing down his cheeks like a floodgate that isn't planning on stopping. “On days where it seems impossible to.” He finishes, the words he's written long forgotten by him. He didn't need to read them when he had you in front of him- the sole holder of his love.

“And I will hug you tight on nights when your sadness feels bigger than what your body can contain. And when words don't seem to make sense in your head, I’ll- I’ll listen to you, I’ll understand you, I’ll learn you. And I will love you. I will love you and I’ve loved you and I love you. And I- I wish there was a word bigger than love to describe how I feel for you. Because four letters never seem enough when it comes to you. But I am yours, body, heart, and soul. Wherever you go I follow. Till the ends of the earth, I'll be there.”

[a-spes]

| DEVIOUS LIES — Part two (8.790 words).

| Summary — Anon Request — When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It has been two years, and you can't stop think about what you lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room.

| Tags & warnings — Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Avenger!Reader, AoS!OC x Avenger!Reader, Other Avengers, angst without comfort, cheating, mental health issues, suicidal ideations, self depreciation, mentions of SA&SH, manipulation, toxic relationship (OCxR), revenge porn, use of drugs.

| Author's notes — I don't know how I feel about that second part, i'm not sure i like it, but now it's written it costs me nothing to share. So here we are. I can just hope that I managed to convey, at least a little, the emotions I wanted to. And, most importantly, take care of yourself.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

Almost a year has gone by, and it means one thing: in a few weeks, it’s going to be Natasha's birthday, again. The woman is not sure how she feels about it. She never really had a birthday before she joined the Avengers, and despite the years that have passed since, she still feels a certain awkwardness at this time of the year. Especially as the boys tended to do too much.

She could only pretend to match their enthusiasm. A slight smile spreads across her face as she takes a sip from her drink, staying silent. She has been listening to her teammates talking about her birthday’s party for almost half an hour now. She stopped trying to avoid it a long time ago, when she realized how much they enjoyed organizing this stupid party. She can deal with anything they’re going to come up with if she gets to see their smiles in exchange. Her sentence won’t last more than a few hours, but the memories are going to stick with them for eternity, and it has no price.

"Wait, you know what?” someone asked. It was Clint, and by the mischievous smile on his face, the redhead already knew that she wouldn't appreciate the next words that are going to come out of his mouth. “I think we should have the mascot come over again," he added, his eyes not leaving hers. "What? It was funny to have a cartoon version of you running around," he defended himself when he saw her glance darkening.

"You know what? Do whatever you want," she mumbled, “it’s not as if you were asking for my opinion anyway,” she eventually gave in. Sometimes, you have to know how to pick your battles, and that is one she definitely cannot win, not when all the others seem to appreciate the idea.

"That’s such a great idea!” one exclaimed, and this time it was Peter Parker, “Mr. Stark, do you think they would accept to come again?” he asked the man.

"Obviously!" Tony replied without an ounce of hesitation, laughing at the question. The man thought it was a stupid thing to ask, "she likes you too much to miss your birthday,” he explained, pointing at the redhead while saying those words. "What? She pretends it’s not true, but I know she is lying. I can see right through her and, believe me, she’ll be here,"  he explained when he noticed the confused looks of his teammates.

"Who’s she?" a voice asked, cutting short to Tony’s rambling. That’s the question that has been on everyone’s minds, but that no one dared to ask out loud, except for one of them — And it hasn’t been Natasha, it is Steve that spoke first.

On the contrary, the woman remained silent because she didn’t need words to express herself, a silent conversation taking place between the billionaire and her through a simple glance. Even if she already has her suspicions, and is almost sure that she knows the answer to that question, she wants him to say it, refusing to believe it otherwise.

The moment she saw the box, she was intrigued by it, something drawing the woman to the small package that no one claimed as theirs. It’s almost as if it came out of nowhere, no one knowing who left it here, or what may be inside the black box. At first, she thought it was some joke, but she knew they were being honest when saying they had nothing to do with the gift. And if she had expected a lot of things to be wrapped in the red ribbon, she definitely wasn’t ready for a ghost from her past to emerge from it.

A quick glance before she suddenly closes the box again, that’s all it took for the redhead to know who was behind that gift. The only thing she could think about was how — How did it happen without any of them noticing your presence? Despite the appearances, and the smile she was trying to keep on, the woman was shaken — Why would you do that, more than two years after your break up? Could it be that you are that desperate?

"Is everything okay?" Clint asked, being the only one to seem to notice a change in Natasha’s behavior. At least, everyone had enough restraint to not ask the question that burns their lips — What’s inside the box?

She wouldn’t have answered if one of them had asked. She wouldn’t even have opened the gift if she had known that it was from you, and that’s probably why you left it on the table, avoiding giving it to her directly. Smart girl, she thought. At first sight, the woman couldn’t tell it was coming from you but there was no doubt remaining once she saw the content — There is only one person on Earth that cares enough to give her such a gift. A person that constantly looks after her, guessing what the redhead wasn’t telling.

A person that she used to love. 

A person that couldn’t be here, was she? The woman can’t help but glance around but she can’t find your face. What was she expecting anyway? To see you in the corner of the room with a bright smile and your arms open for her to throw herself in a hug? That was stupid, and so is the hint of hope she felt when she opened the box. The others told her many times she has to turn the page, but she doesn’t seem ready to let you go. Even after two years, she is still craving your presence as much as before.

The thought of it puts to shame the redhead who knows she shouldn’t hold on to the past, especially when the past in question has a pretty face and breaks her heart. Even after what you’ve done to her, she has spent hours crying, praying for you to come back. Even after listening to the others assuring her that she deserves better, she couldn’t forget how you’ve always been the most caring, and strong, and beautiful person she has ever met in her life. 

You weren’t horrible. Were you? 

Sometimes, she thinks you are a monster. 

Sometimes, she thinks she is, for not listening to you that day. 

That day, she let her anger speak for her, something she swore she would never do again. When she started to realize that, maybe, she should’ve listened to your version of the events, it was too late. At the time, she couldn’t bear to hear the sound of your voice or see your voice, but after two years, as the memory of it starts to fade away, she surprised herself to miss it. 

Except that Fury had refused to tell her where you were. She tried to ask nicely, to beg, and even to threaten the man, but none of it worked. He said that you needed time, that you’ll be back when you are ready, not before. Despite her frustration, the woman accepted it. After all, she is the one to blame, the one that puts herself in such a situation. She could only hold on to the fact that, one day, you’ll be back. Right? As the days go by, the likelihood of ever seeing you again is gradually diminishing. Some nights, when she can’t sleep, she stays up, eyes fixed on her laptop’s screen — Maybe she could give fate a helping hand? She knows she could find you easily. Yet, despite her urge to do it, she has always ended up closing her laptop without starting the research. 

She has to trust Fury, she repeats to herself. Even if she sometimes disagrees with the man, even if it’s frustrating, she has to believe him when he says that you are safe.

Some other nights, all she can feel is anger, and hatred. The redhead is lost, and scared, again, something she never thought she would feel again the day you two met. What if it was true, and you really cheated on her? Then, you could do it again if she forgives you, because history always repeats itself, and you are no exception to the rules of the universe. She knows how people tend to promise a lot of things that they don’t mean, especially when they are desperate, which is exactly what you’ve been that day. She couldn’t forget the look on your face when she dragged you out of the building, the despair in those bright eyes, glistening with tears. This is the only thing she can remember when she thinks about you. Not the good moments you’ve shared, only the brutality of the end of your relationship. 

You've abandoned her, and so did she.

It has been three since she last saw you, and almost a year since her birthday party, but the woman couldn’t stop thinking about it. She didn’t take the gift, leaving the jewelry in the box, and the box on a shelf. She hasn't touched it since. How could she when just the sight of it was already too much to bear?

Every day, when she wakes up, it is one of the first things she sees, and one of the last when she goes to sleep. If it doesn’t feel right to the woman to take the gift, it doesn’t feel right to throw it in the bin either, so it stayed here as a constant reminder of what she has done. Every time she thinks she is finally over it, the box rekindles her doubts. There are some things she can’t quite understand about the situation, and why you would give her such a gift, two years after she kicked you out, is one of them.

Maybe it was a poisoned gift. Maybe it was a sick trick to make her feel guilty, a way to get her to crawl back to you. Beside these possibilities, she couldn’t think of any others that were likely, and she was afraid to admit that your plan was working. The box was a permanent reminder of your existence, something she couldn’t get herself to give away because of those dumb feelings she was experiencing. Somehow, she was holding on to that last piece of your years together after she threw away everything else with the help of the team.

The pictures, the clothes, the gifts, even your favorite cutlery has been burned a few days after you left them. It is almost as if you’ve never stepped a foot into the building, as if you’ve never existed. The woman was fine with the idea of pretending that nothing happened — She was fine with the idea of erasing every remaining part of your relationship.

Except that black box. It is stupid how she hangs onto that last proof of the relationship she once had with you. She had burned everything, but she couldn’t get herself to do the same with that gift. Maybe because she knew that she could never erase you completely from her life. She surely could pretend, it is a game she is really good at, but you would always be on the back of her mind because memories don't go away as easily as objects do.

Since she had opened the box, doubt had been creeping inside of her — What if? What if she has been wrong the whole time? What if she should have listened to you? Give you a second chance? That day, her reaction had been dictated by anger and hatred, feelings that still inhabit her soul, but have faded over the years. For two years, she had been sure that she made the right choice — At least, that’s what everyone kept telling the woman, and she listened to their comforting words.

But since she opened the box, she was no longer sure of anything. She wasn’t the one that wanted you gone in the first place. She surely needed a bit of space before being able to talk with you properly, but only a few days, maybe a few weeks, not two years, and definitely not more than that. That little box only worsened her doubt because who would be desperate enough to still cling to the person they betrayed, years after the events? A person truly in love. She had kept her doubts for herself before that day. If she is almost sure of the identity of the person who gave her the box, because there is only one person on that planet that cares enough to gift her something so meaningful, there are still a lot of questions to which she doesn’t have the answers — For example, how did you manage to sneak into the building without everyone knowing? She now knows that someone knew the whole time.

“Tell me,” she firmly asked the man, leaving little room for discussion.

No one pointed out the thing he has said about the mascot, the subject of the conversation quickly changed after that. Except, while they were talking about which flavor the cake should be, Natasha could think of nothing but Tony’s words — “She likes you too much to miss your birthday”, “she pretends it’s not true but I know she is lying.” So when everyone eventually decided to go back to their rooms, around two in the morning, she stayed a bit longer in the common room in hope of getting some information.

“Sorryy, I can’t, I don’t know anything,” the man replied, indifferent to her tone, “anything at all,” he repeated, chuckling like a child who has done something wrong. 

The woman sighs, pinching her nose as she takes a deep breath, trying to not lash out her frustration on the man. The conversation isn’t exactly going the way she had hoped, Tony refusing to answer her question no matter how many times she has already asked. She even tried to blackmail him, but he was persistent in pretending that he didn’t know anything. When he almost falls on the ground trying to get a few steps back, it has been the last straw for the woman. Gladly, someone entered the room before she could hit him so hard that it would have sobered him in an instant.

"Is everything okay?" the voice asked, and both of them immediately shut up to turn their heads toward the woman who just entered the room, Astrid. She is leaning in the doorway, her gaze alternating between Tony and Natasha.

She hates her. Not as much as she hates you, but she still feels resentful toward the agent. When she smiles, when she speaks, even when she is just here, existing, the woman can’t help but hate her from the depths of her heart. Gladly, she rarely sees her, as an agent of the S.H.I.E.L.D., she is only around when they have outstanding missions. If Natasha had a choice, she would’ve thrown her away with you that day. 

"She wants me to admit that her girlfriend was the one in the costume," he immediately replied, "but sshht, we can’t let her know that!" he added, holding his index finger in front of his mouth for a few seconds before leaving the room giggling. 

"I know what happened," she eventually said when she noticed that Natasha was about to leave after a few seconds when they glanced at each other in silence. "Th- That night, in the motel room~," she added, her voice being hesitant. Those words made the redhead stop in her tracks.

"If you're about to rub in my face how you've ruined my life, you can shut up," she immediately cut her, not wanting to listen to the woman, not if it’s to tell her about how she fucked the woman she loves. Her voice was full of anger, just like the murderous look in her eyes. The only thing that prevented the woman from immediately leaving the room was the thing she saw in the other’s eyes. Her attitude betrayed her emotions, a mix of guilt, sadness, and shame, which aroused her curiosity. 

With a nod, she ordered her to continue.

That morning, as many others, you are woken up by your girlfriend’s gentle touches, her fingers slowly tracing circles on your stomach. A hum of satisfaction escapes your lips before your turn around, nuzzling your head further into the crook of her neck.

How could you have known it would be the last time? How could you have possibly guessed that the routine you’ve got used to would be broken so quickly?

Every morning, it is the same thing, and while the former spy has no problems getting up early, you definitely can’t say the same for yourself. She is always awake before you are and, even if she had never admitted it, you are sure that she takes a few minutes to observe your sleeping form. She loves seeing you so peaceful and calm, being able to have a glimpse of your face without those worry lines, without the marks of your anxieties. 

She is always the one who wakes you up, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There is no better way to start a day than Natasha’s sweet words and caresses. It’s her fault if you never want to get out of bed, wishing every morning that you could stay in that bed, next to her, for the rest of your life. Sometimes, you suggest that you tell the others you are sick, just to spend a day together, but she just laughs, dismissing your idea.

But all the good things must come to an end, right?

"It's time to get up, milaya," she softly said in your ear, her breath tickling your skin, "Astrid won't be happy if you are late again," she added when the only answer you gave her was a groan of discontent.

"They won't say anything if I am late once, it's okay", you mumbled, her words not being enough to convince you to leave the comfort of her arms. 

Especially when you realize that there is nothing to get excited about the day ahead of you, in perspective, only hours spent in an office, listening to men who think they know everything better than you do. Today, you are supposed to attend an important meeting alongside Astrid, and you still don’t know why you volunteered. The thought of the paperwork and the efforts that you will have to put in pretending that you are actually happy to be here definitely don’t worth your pay.

Except that you’ve lied to Natasha, and she knows it. This is definitely not the first time that you are being late, it happens almost every day, to the point that the day you are in time can probably be counted on your hands. Gladly, when you are coming in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters, it's Astrid who’s your supervisor, and she appears to also be your best friend. Most of the time, she is kind enough to accept to close her eyes on your delays. Today, you came in only ten minutes late, and the woman was somehow impressed, expecting you to be later than that.

“You’re late, again,” she replied, obviously waiting for an excuse that you don't have. She would know if you are lying to her, and you don't have the energy for that kind of game today, and you could see that the woman neither. She was starting to get tired of every day starting with the same bullshit coming from your mouth.

“I am so, so, sorry,” you said to her for what may be the tenth time since you’ve entered the office. She is walking fast, and you are trying to catch up with the black-haired woman, who is also your superior within the S.H.I.E.L.D. “Please, don’t tell Fury,” you begged, but all she did was roll her eyes, and give you a file when you eventually reached her office. You quickly glanced at it before closing it again, your attention focused on the woman, “Astrid, I am serious. He is going to give me more paperwork if you do. Or worse. Imagine if he forces me to train the new recruits, you know I can’t do that again. Please, …,” you added, looking at her imploringly.

“And what do I have in exchange?” she sighed, turning around to look at you, one eyebrow raised. Despite her serious expression, you know she was trying to not laugh. She may be your boss, but above all she is your friend, and you both know that she would never tell Fury about your delays. Even if she has threatened you to do so a few times in the past, she has never actually done it. Yet, this time she felt like she needed something in exchange, she had covered for you enough time for free, and you were happy to thank your friend with whatever she may want.

“Anything you want!” you replied, desperate but no less honest. 

“Tonight, after work, you pay me a drink, deal?” she asked after pretending to think for a few seconds. In reality, she already knew what she wanted from you. She has thought about asking you out since the moment you met, something you’ve never noticed, always reducing her to the role of a friend, and not keeping up on the clues she was leaving you. Tonight, however, she will be clearer than she has ever been.

“Deal!” you immediately said, accepting the proposal without thinking twice about it. "Thank you. Thank you so, so much. You are the best," you added, kissing your friend on the cheek before leaving the room quickly, a sight that made the woman chuckle.

It is a deal that makes you both happy. You have met Astrid at the Academy, when you were both trainees that dreamed of joining the S.H.I.E.L.D. without even knowing if you were good enough for that. The two of you quickly became close — That’s the kind of thing that happens where you are the only two females of your promotion. Either you hate each other over your dead bodies, or you grow so close that you become inseparable. 

Except that, since you've both achieved your dreams and joined S.H.I.E.L.D, something changed in your relationship. It wasn’t your fault, nor hers, that you had less time to see each other, your jobs taking a lot of your time and energy. Then you've been assigned on a long-term mission with the Avengers, and you’ve spent less time at the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters despite still working for the organization. Then you've met Natasha, and you feel like you’ve slightly grown apart from each other after you’ve announced to her your new relationship. On the whole, you had less time to spend with your best friend, and the promises to make up for the lost time have never been kept, not until today. That deal was the perfect occasion to spend a bit of time together outside of the office work.

You both really hoped that this night would make things back as they were before.

"You know, I love her," she confessed to the redhead, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she felt tears filling her eyes. "Since the day we met, I have loved her. That's what I told her, that night, when we went out," she admitted, and Natasha felt her heart pounding in her chest, her hands were shaking with apprehension, “but she rejected me. She loves you so much, too much," she sadly chuckled, but the redhead felt no relief when she heard those words because they were not explaining the pictures. She can't cry, not now, not in front of that woman.

"Continue," she ordered, feeling that the woman had more to say than that. She already knew that Astrid loved you, you may be the only one that hadn't seen it, or maybe you were pretending, or maybe you were blinded by your love for Natasha.

"I didn't plan to do that, you know," she started, carefully looking at the spy, "but I was so desperate that night, and I-," she said, except she was unable to finish her sentence, the words stuck in her throat.

The past three years, she had kept the truth a secret. At first, she thought it was better that way. The woman was ashamed of her actions, and she was relieved when heard that you’ve been transferred to another department, and she thought that her secret would be safe. Except that, if everyone acted as if you’ve never existed, her mind didn’t allow her to forget. Every hour of every day, you were in her mind, and the longer she thought about that night, the biggesther guilt became, until the burden was too heavy to bear. Tonight, hearing them argue about you, has been the last straw.

“What did you do?” she asked, sensing that something was wrong. She didn’t like the feeling that was creeping inside of her, “what. did. you. do.?” she asked once again, but more firmly that time, when the other didn’t immediately answer her question. As she saw the hesitation, she reduced the distance between them in a second, her hand gripping the collar of Astrid’s shirt that she pins to the wall abruptly, “tell me. Now,” she insisted as the interaction only reinforced the bad feeling she had.

That morning, unlike the others, you woke up alone. There haven’t been the gentle caresses of your girlfriend to wake you up, nor her sweet words to coax you into getting up. No, that day, it was only yourself, draped into the cold sheets, and it felt so strange, the silence and the loneliness of the room. Sadly, it has not been the exception you’ve wished it would be, but only the first of too many mornings like that.

In the sleepy state you were in, it took you a few seconds to realize that something was wrong, and almost a minute before you noticed that you weren’t home. You couldn’t even recognize the place you were in, only knowing that it looked like a hotel, a shitty one if you might say. The room was small, simple, and not-so-comfortable. There was something in the ambience that gave you an uneasy feeling about the whole thing, but you were unable to say what it was exactly.

Your head is throbbing, and you are definitely feeling nauseous, but you know that’s not the problem. Your physical distress isn’t the cause of the weight on your chest, the one that makes your breath aching, it’s something else that your mind can’t comprehend yet. It’s all these inconsistencies. The missing memories of last night, the unknown room, the fact that you are alone,... you don’t remember drinking that much last night. You may not be the most responsible person that planet has known, but you know how to handle yourself. Usually. 

Could you have possibly drunk that much? 

The day has barely started, but you already know it is going to be a rough one. If only you knew how right you were, maybe you would have taken a few more hours of sleep, enjoying the comfortable peace of your old life a bit longer before joining the chaos. Yet, you had no means to guess that your day would go that way. 

It's a note left on the bedside table that answered all your questions, easing some of the worries that were creeping inside of you. Someone has written the following words : “Couldn’t get you home because of how drunk you were. don’t worry about being late today, I won’t tell Fury. however, had to go on a mission, be careful when you go home. I left you a bit of money, it should be enough to pay for the room and an Uber. Love you.” The message might not have been signed, but you can easily recognize Astrid’s handwriting. A smile spreads across your lips as you are reassured, the situation not being as bad as your mind made it look.

Some memories of last night flew back in your mind, but it’s only a glimpse of what happened, a lot of the events staying unknown to yourself. The last thing you can remember is the conversation you had with Astrid, when she admitted that she loved you and you replied that you too, thinking she meant as friends because you couldn’t see her any other way, not when you were already engaged in a relationship. The rest of the exchange is confused, and you are not sure what’s real and what has been made up by alcohol. Even today, you are still not sure. 

Maybe you’ve really drunk too much that night.

Knowing that you’ve been with Astrid the whole time was reassuring, and you are no longer as bothered by the absence of memories. For a moment, you thought you'd been kidnapped by some weird man. As you regain your composure, your thoughts become clearer and you decide that the first thing you should do is to send a message to your girlfriend. She must be so worried, and your heart aches at the thought that you might be a source of problem for the woman you love.

It is not your kind to not keep your promises, and you’ve told her you would be home last night. It is not your kind either to not answer her messages or calls. In reality, you are quite the opposite, always sending her hundreds of messages when you are out with your friends. The only reason she hasn’t got after you is because she knew you were with Astrid, and she trusted you. However, the sweet messages are going to have to wait because, when you try to turn your phone on, you only encounter a black screen, a sign that you’ve run out of battery. Obviously, your friend didn’t think to leave you a charger.

You sigh, admitting your defeat. Shaking your phone surely won’t change the situation. For the moment, there is nothing more you can do, except hoping that Natasha won’t be too angry. As you are getting ready, your mind is focused on how to earn the redhead’s forgiveness — Maybe you could stop to buy her some flowers? You hate it, when the two of you are arguing. It doesn’t happen a lot, but it’s never pretty, and the mere thought that it might happen was already hurting.

As you definitely couldn’t go back to the compound by yourself, not knowing how far you were and being in a pitiful state, you decided to use the money left by Astrid to call a cab, as she instructed you to do. It’s not before you enter the car that you realize how late you actually were. It is almost one in the afternoon, and if you are not an early riser, like your girlfriend who is always up by six at the latest, you rarely get up after ten.

It has been a thirty minutes drive back to the compound, and the whole time you were thinking about two things: taking a shower, and leaning into your girlfriends’ arms. You are so exhausted, physically and mentally, that you’ve decided to skip work today — You were already so late that it wouldn’t make a big difference anyway. The journey was long, and those thirty minutes felt like hours. 

Soon enough, you started to suffocate into your own mind, then skin. You felt so sweaty, and dirty, that it quickly became unbearable. Maybe it was the effects of the alcohol, or maybe because you’ve slept in a seedy motel, but the only thing you wanted was to get rid of the clothes you were wearing and the uncomfortable state you were in as soon as possible.

When you enter the compound, you find it empty, and so is the room you are sharing with the woman. If you frown, you don’t think much about it. If the building is rarely empty, it sometimes happens when emergencies are called. A whine escapes your lips as you realize that, if it’s true, they are going to be mad at you for not being here when they needed it. You can already feel your mind losing itself to self-hatred thoughts, as you mutter to yourself how stupid you are. You are going to need more than a few flowers to earn their forgiveness. The fact that JARVIS confirmed that everyone was at the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s quarters didn’t, you would have preferred to hear that they went to the restaurant without you rather than that.

Tears brimming your eyes, you quickly put your phone to charge. It is only when you get out of the shower, twenty minutes later, that you saw the missed calls and messages from Natasha. The most recent ones were sent a few minutes ago. There were too many of them for you to take time to read everything so you just sent her a quick text that said: “sorry, my battery was dead, and I couldn’t answer your calls. I’ll explain everything, I promise. see you soon. love you.” A message she saw but she didn’t answer, which is unusual and an obvious hint of how angry she probably is.

Despite your decision to not work today, you still end up in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters. You are almost running in the corridors, going to the meeting room where you find your girlfriend, and the rest of the Avengers. When you stumble into the room, a deadly silence descends. None of them greeted you, and the only reaction you got was Fury’s nod when you started mumbling excuses for your late arrival. While your eyes immediately landed on the redhead, she didn’t glance at you once of the entire meeting. The sight made your heart sink. You love her, but you have to admit that the spy is scary when she has that stern expression on her face, one that leaves no room for discussion.

The safest decision was to sit on the furthest chair, leaving her space until you get the opportunity to explain yourself. Something that you hadn't had a chance to do before a few more hours, when you stumbled into her in the corridors. You have been lost in your mind, having a hard time focusing on your work. Earlier, when the meeting ended, she immediately left the room, not leaving you a chance to exchange a word with her, and it has been bugging you since.

“Please, wait,” you said, already begging the woman. When she heard your voice, she stopped, allowing you to gently grab at her arm so she didn't go. She could, if she wanted to, and a part of her did want to run away, but the rest of her knows that this conversation can’t be avoided. “Listen, I- I am sorry,” you started once you were sure she was willing to listen to your excuses, “I should have warned you, but I couldn’t, my phone’s battery was dead and, and- honestly? I don't remember much of what happened last night. All I know is that once was enough. It won't happen again,” you chuckled sadly. When you woke up that morning, you promised to yourself that it was the last time you drank that much. A promise you kept, and three years later, you still haven’t touched a bottle of alcohol. “I promise, 'tasha. Please, don't be mad at me for that, or at least tell me how I can make up for my mistake,” you said, and the woman knew she had heard enough.

“Seriously?” she scoffed, breaking free of your grip. “I can’t believe you are that stupid,” she said, as she started to walk away. But if she didn’t want to hear the sound of your voice any more, you, however, weren’t done yet.

"I know I’ve made a mistake, but I am fine, isn’t it the most important?” you asked, starting to follow. Except that, when she heard your steps in her back, she accelerated her pace. “I promise to be more careful next time but, you know, I can handle myself for one night. Well, I might have drunk a bit too much, but Astrid was wi~,” you tried to explain, except she cut short your ramblings. To say, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but the woman quickly cut you. She scoffed again, in disbelief this time.

"You are really stupid, aren't you?” she said, stopping in her tracks, and you almost ran into her, surprised by her sudden stop. A few more seconds passed before she turned around to face you, her posture matching her stern expression. “Do you think I don't know what happened last night, with Astrid? Do you really think I wouldn’t have known the truth?” she added, taking a step forward for every question she asked, and you took one back every time, until your back hit the walls. You would certainly have found the situation hot if she didn’t look like she was about to murder you.

“W- what?” you said, “you are mad because I went out with a friend. That’s the problem? Astrid is the problem?" you snapped, starting to feel frustrated about the whole situation. 

You are tired, and the only thing you’ve wanted to do since you opened your eyes that morning — Throwing yourself in your girlfriend’s arms — was impossible to do. You hadn’t expected the woman to give you such a hard time. You knew she could be jealous sometimes, you’ve already had arguments about that in the past, but you’ve always been understanding because you know that her jealousy isn’t caused by a lack of trust. This feeling is fuelled by her own insecurities and past. Except that, that time, it was too much. The way she wouldn't listen to your excuses is seriously hitting on your nerves.

"Don't you dare to lie to me,” she said. For a moment, you thought she was going to hit you, but she took a step back before she could do that. She was angry too, taking deep breaths in an attempt to ease the feeling. “I trusted you,” she eventually added but her tone was different — The anger left her voice, replaced by pain. “I trusted you and, most importantly, I loved you,” she whispered, turning around to see you one last time. “After everything I have done for you, I can't believe that's how you are thanking me. You know, I really thought you were different, better," she laughed, trying very hard to not throw you against the walls or worse, to cry. The most insufferable was the look in your eyes, the false innocence. She was tired of pretending, she had given you enough chances to tell her the truth, “but you’re not,” but now, she was done trying.

That is the last time the two of you talked. The next time you’ve seen her, she hasn’t been kind enough to let you have a chance to explain things. She was done trying, and so were you. The last words she said are still ringing in your head, even years later. Maybe if you'd chased her once again that day, things would have ended differently, but you haven’t moved. You couldn’t, petrified by the conversation that just took place, you have just watched the redhead walking away without glancing back.

It’s only when you enter the break room that you understand the whole conversation you had with Natasha. No one was here, but the walls had been covered with pictures of yourself. At first, you thought it was a prank from your teammates’ but the pictures were all but innocent. You felt your heart sink when you took down one of the photos to get a closer look at it, and tears in your eyes when you realized that you were nude in those.

It was you, in bed, with Astrid. Your face doesn’t entirely show but you can easily recognize yourself and the bed you’ve woken up in that morning. There were dozens of different pictures, but all showed similar scenes: your bodies against each other as you are obviously sharing an intimate moment. Something that you should only share with one person on that Earth. A person that is definitely not Astrid. 

Except that the more you look at those pictures, the more foreign they feel. You are sure you are the one in the pictures, but you are still unable to remember what happened. Slowly, doubt creeps into your heart — Did you drink that much last night? 

So much that you betrayed the woman you swore to love until the sun dies? 

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You are suddenly overwhelmed by a bunch of emotions that you can’t describe, but that are definitely not pleasant. It is a mix of confusion, anger, guilt, and disgust. The pictures speak for themselves, and they leave little room for doubt about what you were doing — And you were surely not just sleeping. The woman was on top of you, her mouth closed to your neck, maybe she was leaving soft kisses against your skin, maybe she was whispering sweet things in your ears, you don’t know. But the thing you were focused on was her hand hidden by the sheets, leaving only your imagination to complete the scene. It wasn’t the only picture of that kind: they were all picturing similar scenes. You can easily understand her rage and hatred earlier because you are now sharing those feelings with your girlfriend, just for different reasons.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" a voice said, pulling out of your mind. It was Astrid, who just entered the room. She glanced around before looking back at you, a sad smile spreading on her lips when she notices the tears that are soaking your face. and you saw Astrid entering the room. She looks around, a sorry look on her face. "I am sorry,” she started, and you could feel she was looking for the right thing to say, “I- I sent the pictures to the wrong person. When I realized, I tried to explain to Romanoff but, well… you know how she is,” she explained, shrugging as if she was trying to make you believe she had actually tried to, “she wouldn't listen to me, and they- they did that before I could stop them. It doesn’t please me either," she added, reminding you that you weren’t the only one suffering from the situation. Except she seemed to deal with the situation better than you do. As she talked, she slowly walked closer to you, accompanying each of her sentences with a few steps forward until she was close enough to wrap you in her arms. 

You didn’t get the energy to push her away.

"Did we.. ?" you asked, but your voice broke before you could finish your sentence. It felt too difficult to say those words out loud — “Did we hook up? Did I cheat on Natasha?” But the woman doesn’t need the words to be said, she seems to read in your mind the end of your sentence.

"Of course we did, what kind of question is that?" she replied, frowning. She seems to be surprised by your question. For a second, the hand that was slowly caressing the back of your head stopped. The woman pulled back a little, just so she could see your face. "Why? Do you regret it?" she asked, and for an instant she seemed to be genuinely worried about your reaction, "because you didn't seem to last night, when you cried my name,..." she whispered in your ear. You could feel her breath tickling your skin but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling, unlike when Natasha does it.

Everything felt so much. Her voice, her touch, her presence so close to you, was now unbearable. As she remembers the night you’ve spent, a soft smirk spreads on her lips, but you are definitely not sharing her feelings. “Of course we did.” The words loop back into your mind, it seeps in like a poison that quickly takes over your whole being. Soon, you are paralyzed by an awful feeling. It hurts, but at the same time you are not sure you are actually feeling something, your body and mind feeling so foreign to you — If you wanted it, why does it feel so wrong?

At that moment, if you had been able to move, you would have ripped your ears off just so you wouldn’t hear her voice any more, and maybe you would have done the same with your skin. It felt like the only way to get rid of your overwhelming feelings. Suddenly, the reassuring touch of your best friend made you feel gross, and so do her sweet words — But if she said that you did it, and wanted it, then it must be true, right?

You have seen the pictures, they are in your hands, right under your eyes. You can see yourself betraying the woman you love and in those, you really don't give the impression that you didn’t want to. On the contrary.

"No, no, it- it's not that, it’s just…," you eventually managed to say, but you are hesitating and unsure of yourself. There are too many thoughts and words clouding your head, so many ways you could react and yet, none of what you could say or do felt right. "It’s just that I don’t even remember last night,” you admitted, feeling ashamed about it, “I mean, did we- you know,... for real?" you asked softly but you were not even listening to Astrid’s answer, the question was more for yourself in reality. "Sorry, I have to go, see you later", you said, interrupting the woman. Somehow, you regained control over your body, just enough to push the other away and leave the room. You are not sure where you are going, but as far from that room as you can is already a good start.

That's where she found you when she came home that night, sitting on the bathroom's floor, the pictures in your hands.

Your hand is still wrapped tightly around the pictures, but you didn’t notice it. Not before being back home, in the room you are sharing with Natasha — Or were sharing, you thought, unsure about how the situation would unfold. It may be the last time you set a foot in that room that has been your safe place for months. Before you could completely break down, you decided to take a shower, thinking that, maybe, the steaming water would be enough to ease your mind. You took two showers. Then three, then four, and maybe more. You can’t be sure, you’ve stopped counting. All you knew was that it hasn’t been enough to get rid of the uneasy feelings and thoughts. You’ve scrubbed yourself until your skin was so sensitive that even the touch of the towel has been painful — But maybe you deserved it.

The rest of the day is a blur, and you are not sure what time it is. You’ve spent hours on the bathroom’s floor, your left hand clenched around the picture while the right one was holding the towel. Your head was so empty, but so full at the same time. That’s how she found you when she came home that night, and if she had been tempted to wrap you in her arms when she saw your pitiful state, the conversation she just had with the others discouraged her to do so — You didn’t deserve her pity. They are right when they say that you are not the victim: you are the one that cheated on her, and she needs to be firm, stern. You knew how hard it is for the woman to trust someone and yet, you still broke the fate she had put in you after years of making her dream of a better future.

"Oh, so you remember now?" she coldly said to you when she entered the room. You didn’t move, not even your eyes to look at her, but if you did, you would have seen that the woman was leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed. Maybe you would have also seen that her coldness was only a facade, and that she was as close as you were from breaking down. 

You stayed silent, unable to say anything. The words were stuck in your clenched throat, and they aren’t feeling right anyway — How could you defend yourself when you didn't even know what happened exactly? Plus, you weren’t even sure there was something to defend, the pictures speaking for themselves. Even when she started packing your belongings, you didn’t move. For you to move, she had to grab your arm and drag you all the way outside the Avengers’s building by herself. 

She needed you gone, and everyone agreed that it was only for the best. At least for a few weeks, just the time for things to calm down. That’s what she came to announce. The few words that left your mouth were useless, your pleas falling in deaf ears: the decision had already been made, and the sentence was irrevocable. The woman is done with your bullshit. She is done with you, and so you are.

"The pictures, they- they aren't real," she eventually admitted, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she unburdens herself of this old secret. “I mean, th- they are, but it’s a staging. Nothing happened between us, she- hm, loves you too much to give you away,” she continued, tears filling her eyes as she talks, her voice wavering a little more with each word. "She isn't even conscious in these," she continued when the spy didn’t react. If the black-haired woman thought it was because the other was listening, it was because she didn’t know how to react.

The weight of what she had done left her shoulder, and it was now lingering in the room, where the air was suddenly thick, and almost unbreathable. Natasha felt a weight in her chest that made each breath harder than the previous one. Overcome by surprise, she had let go of the other, stepping back a few steps. Her thoughts were racing, numerous and contradictory, they weren’t coherent enough to allow how to respond in any way. She needed to do something, but she didn’t know what.

“I- I don’t know why I did that. It wasn’t me, that night, you know that, right? That I would usually never ever do something like that,” she started to defend herself when she saw the look on Natasha’s face, “I was so angry, and disappointed, when she refused. I have given her everything since we met, and yet you are the one she chose. I thought that, maybe, with a bit of time she would eventually realize her mistake, … but I was so wrong,” she sighed, and the redhead could see the remnants of that anger in her attitude. A clenching jaw and fists, accompanied with firm words that left no doubt about the resentment she held towards her, and towards you. “That night, I- I wasn’t myself. We’ve already had a few drinks and, you know, it doesn’t mix well with emotions,” she continued, and the woman could feel her anger rising with every word the other spoke. “All I could think about was getting revenge. I wanted to show her she was wrong, that I had so much more to offer than she thought. I wanted her to change her mind, to see me for more than just a friend,” she admitted, her voice being just a whisper as she says the last sentence. “I never thought it would end this way, I swear, you’ve to believe me, Natasha,” and to forgive me. She didn’t say the last words out loud, but she doesn’t need to, her eyes are speaking for herself.

Only, when her gaze met the redhead’s, she didn’t see in her eyes the compassion she had been expecting, only pure hatred, an emotion that had quickly replaced the initial surprise. Not even a word was addressed to her as the other left the room, leaving her alone to dry her tears.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

| Taglist — @cd-4848, @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite, @gemz5, @jusnough, @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0, @mrsrushman, @riyaexee, @takeyaki, @taliiiaasteria.

[r0ttenhearts]

I saw you're taking req, hmm I wanted some angst like neglected reader & diluc or kaveh, the story or plot is up to you 🥹🥹

look at me

diluc x reader

warnings: mean diluc, one sided relationship, arguments, angst

another night you found yourself alone in bed, the book you had been reading laid open on the spot that belonged to diluc, or used to. longer nights seemed to be often now, staying up for him. not like he cared for your presence anyway. only giving you a glance when he’d get in bed, facing away from you.

the cold feeling of the sheets on your skin no longer warmed your heart, trying to grasp at the scent of him on his pillow. it was like loving a ghost. if you could even call it a relationship anymore.

dates and anniversaries had been forgotten about for months now, empty promises he’d give you before stopping completely. never giving you anything to hope for. that’s what you believed on your birthday, leaving you alone that night. a thickly frosted cake sitting in front of you, tears in your eyes with his maids somber smiles as you blew out your candles.

you still held hope in your heart, hope that things would go back to how they used to be, to a loving relationship with him. that was until that night. screams and tears being the only thing between you two.

“i’ve told you for the last time, (y/n). i’m busy. can’t you take this up with sucrose or one of your other friends? i don’t have time for this nonsense.” diluc sighed, pressing his thumbs on the bridge of his nose.

“we haven’t done anything together in months, diluc.” you looked at him with hope in your eyes, holding out a flyer for the upcoming windblume festival in mondstat. “we can go to this together! it’ll be like how we used to go to your wine festival’s back in the day, but this time you won’t have to-“

his gloved hand tearing the sheet out of your grasp and ripping it in half silenced your words. you stared at him, wide eyed as he looked to you with the meanest glare he only reserved for kaeya.

“i don’t give a shit to go to some silly festival with you. do you ever wonder why i don’t spend time with you anymore (y/n)? why i’d rather be manning the bar instead of letting my employees do it?” he seethed, getting right in your face as you stood there frozen.

his fiery red hair matched his tone as you felt your love and hope for this relationship slowly wither with every word that came out of his mouth. his piercing eyes not hiding his distaste for you,

“the reason is i simply cannot stand to be here with you. i can’t stand the way you look at me so stupidly. you still believe something is there when i haven’t even looked at you in months.

i don’t love you anymore (y/n). get that through your thick skull. or do you still think i’m kidding? that one day i’ll waltz in here and kiss you like i used to? that i won’t leave you alone here every day with the maids?

nothing will change. i don’t care if you leave me. do what you wish, just stop bothering me.”

he left your shared bedroom with a slam of the door. the glass on your bedside table shaking as silent tears slipped down your cheeks. you were tired. tired of the fighting, tired of him.

the next day you did as he asked, or screamed. with a heavy heart you left his manor, a home you had known for six years. ignoring his lingering stares in the streets of mondstat for the next few months.

every time you’d see him stop and stare at you, you’d shake your head. he didn’t miss you. you couldn’t miss him. nothing was waiting for you back at the winery.

you never knew of the way he’d uncap some of his special wine, sitting at the same table you used to have dinner alone in. gulping down the bitter liquid, he hated every second of it sliding down his throat. but he hated the way he felt without you even more.

the day he told you those words he’d felt nothing but regret. coming home to an empty house solidified that feeling of guilt and pain as he remembered the look on your face as he claimed he no longer felt anything for you. it was a lie. he lied to keep you away, away from his duties to hunt down the fatui. you didn’t know he was the infamous dark night hero, only believing his white lies of being at the bar every night.

oh how cruel could fate be as he watched you move on. you’d refuse to look his way if he stood next to you at a stall, your gaze locked on the merchant. never at him.

eventually your gaze would be locked onto his brother, kaeya. kaeya’s smirk as you held onto his arm made his blood boil. he had taken something else from him. but were you ever his to be taken from?

as he sat on the floor of his cellar, tears in his eyes as he inhaled the smell of grapes and liquids he now found comfort in, he only thought of you.

“hey (y/n).. the windblume festival is coming up soon.. do you want to go together.” he whispered to himself, more hot tears running down his face.

“i didn’t mean what i said that night.. i’ll cut off my own tongue so i never yell at you again.. so please,

promise you won’t go.”

taglist: @samarill @lelemnh

[fastlikealambo]

The third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.|| rhaenyra targaryen x black!fem reader

In the five years since Queen Rhaenyra The Conqueror, Bringer of New Valyria, triumphed over the usurper without losing a single dragon, the realm is at peace. Having no need of husbands and taking two other wives, Queen Alicent and Queen Mysaria, the dragon queen is in need of a third and final wife to rule the seven kingdoms at her side.

You were just a girl from nowhere, watching the sky fill with dragons at peace, destined to be a scullery maid in a vicious household and the future wife of a ratcatcher until fate and blood decide your future for you. 

History will remember Rhaenyra Targaryen as the great unifier, the second coming of Visenya Targaryen who brought another golden age of dragons out of war. But they will sing songs of you, the smallfolk who ascended to fire and blood as the queen’s favorite, the one they tried to kill so many times, the third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.

Some notes: Aegon, Aemond, and Daemon are dead but their dragons were saved, Alicent and Haelena were sent to Oldtown, and Otto Hightower and Criston Cole spontaneously combusted, I don’t know what to tell yall. Luke lived, Jaehaerys lived, Baela and Rhaena are happy goddammit. 

Some other notes: This is dark, Rhaenyra is in her Paul Atreides era, and I drew some inspiration from Cinderella and Hurrem Sultan (the fictional representation of her from the show's magnificent century but nobody I know watches that show). Rhaenyra is in her thirties and reader is in her twenties. 

Trigger warnings for violence, murder, abuse. MINORS DNI

This is a rough teaser chapter to see if there’s any interest in this fic so if you like it please reblog it or leave a comment! Feedback is how I write :)

Chapter One: the fate of a flea. 

 “I heard she fed her husband to Syrax!”

 “I heard she burned the last two wives!”

 “She's going to choose me, there’s no doubting that.”

 “ Yeah, to be her cupbearer!”

You tried to block out the chatter of your employer and her daughters and concentrate on mending one of their hems, but each bump  from your place on the floor of the rickety carriage, made it near impossible.  

“Hurry up Flea, we’re almost there!” One of the daughters said, her slipper meeting your ribs to make you go faster but you dared not complain. 

You would have been there an hour ago but the decision to take the carriage was not your own. You would have much preferred to watch the dragons arrive with your mother in the market, far from the crowds that propelled them towards The Red Keep. 

 You needed the coin and being some rich lady’s maid who couldn’t afford the proper ones with training but could afford you instead kept good bread on the table. 

Or at least it did.

The Lady hadn’t paid you in two weeks.

  “Remember to smile when you’re presented before the Queen, smile and be silent. Perhaps if you do well, she’ll want two wives instead of one and we’ll never have to rewear a gown again. New gowns and maids who actually know what they’re doing.” The Lady said and you didn’t have to lift your gaze to know she was staring at you.

  “Don’t worry Flea, you’ll have a place in the dragon queen’s court. We’ll put in a good word with the ratcatcher!”

All three of them exploded with laughter at that and when the carriage came to a sudden stop you were too happy to watch them slide all over the carriage.

  “I’m sorry mistress, this is as far as I can go.” The driver said.

The daughters adjusted themselves before leaving the carriage, ignoring their mother’s calls to wait for her,

It was now or never.

“My lady, I need to speak with you.”

  “You’ll stay in the carriage, the queen need not see you.” The Lady said, starting to move towards the door.

  “My lady, you have not paid me. I have waited and waited and happily assisted with all the preparations but I cannot go home without coin today.  Please, my mother needs me, I’ll take half if you have that right now but we have no more bread.” You said quietly but firmly.

   “You haven’t earned your pay for the full day yet so we’ll discuss this no further.”

    “My lady, my mother is-

    “Your mother will have to make do as the rest of the smallfolk do. Perhaps she can have that bowl of brown I always hear about. I’m sure she’ll-

You’re not quite sure what happened next but it ended with The Lady dead on the carriage floor, her neck at an odd angle, face bloody and concaved.

You sank to the floor beside your dead employer, your fearful cries went unheard as the sound of Syrax’s roar filled the air around King’s Landing.

Queen Rhaenyra had arrived.

Her daughters would see you dead for this, your mother would starve, your life was lost.

Unless it wasn’t.

As luck or the gods would have it, The Lady bled into her own hair and not a single drop had spilled on the crimson colored gown. 

It seems you have time to finish the hems after all.

“You stand before Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Princess of Dragonstone, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men,  Lady of The Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Bringer of New Valyria.  Why should you sit by her side?”

The same question had been asked of every lady in front of you who entered the throne room and each dismissed moments later either by Princess Rhaenys, the Hand of The Queen or Queen Rhaenyra herself. You could not bring yourself to look at the queen each time the doors opened and closed, a single glance in her direction would bring you to further ruin.

Both The Lady’s daughters could not see you but you could see them each leave the throne room in tears. 

A chance to be queen would not be the only thing they would mourn today. 

The doors opened and you found yourself escorted into the throne room. 

“You stand before Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Princess of Dragonstone, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men,  Lady of The Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Bringer of New Valyria.  Why should you sit by her side?”

You looked at the dragon queen in all her beauty and might upon the Iron Throne and instantly it all became clear.

You would not leave this room in tears. 

  “I wish to be anointed.”

the story continues here.

@asvterias

@nxcxllxsevens

@newcaptainofsquad9

[maxident-xx]

you know what. fuck it. *posts entire phony wip in here*

WC : 3628

@wabatle @sillynene-13 since yall like phony

Chapter One - 02/01/2XXX

Death Corps. Everyone feared the four knocks on the door. Four, the unlucky number. That's when the Death Corps recruiters would come, forcing you to join the army. Everyone had to join, starting at the age of 13. I think they started doing it because of the amount of wars that have been going on lately. They need more soldiers to defend our crappy country. There were two ways you could get out of serving in the Death Corps: if you had some serious disability or if you were filthy rich. If you paid enough money, you could avoid going for half a year. If you keep paying, when you turn 35, they stop caring. My parents have been using the payment method of saving my brother and I for the past few years, up until now. The four dreaded knocks. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

I silently ran downstairs to overhear the conversation between my dad and the recruiter. The recruiter was a woman with blonde hair and dark brown roots. She had dark siren eyes and was dressed in an all black attire. She was utterly terrifying.

“Yes, Mr. Terry Black? We're here to enlist Mallory Poppy Black and Fitz Aster Black for their necessary Death Corps Service. We didn't receive any payment, and in the Death Corps Handbook, Section 37B it states if there is no payment to spare yourself from serving for a month, a Death Corps recruiter is obligated to come and take you or your children to training.”

“Recruiter, ma'am, we might've run out of money, but please don't do this to my kids. I'll pay double the amount next year.”

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Black. I cannot do that, I don't make the rules. I listen to the handbook. Can you please call them over?”

“Mallory, Fitz! Come down!” 

I went down first, my twin brother, Fitz, following shortly after. His face paled as he recognized the skull embroidered on the recruiters uniform.

“You're shitting me,” Fitz choked out.

“I'm so sorry,” My dad chanted as he squeezed us. “I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, please stay safe, my babies,” He was beginning to cry now. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to sob with him.

“Come with me, you two,” The recruiter ordered. Fitz and I followed her to her van. “Everyone in Death Corps has a code name. Mine is Guerilla. I am not telling you my real name, as per Death Corps Handbook section 1B. You two need to serve 18 months each.” She reapplied her cherry red lipstick before starting the van. “I'll be picking up more kids after. If any of you guys try to escape, you will suffer immediate consequences. What are they? You don't want to know.” 

“Guerilla scares me,” Fitz whispered.

“Real, if I have to serve in her regiment I don't know what I would do,” I whispered back. I couldn't shake the question off my brain, why can't she say her real name? Is it for privacy reasons? What if we did find her real name?

For those of you reading this story, sorry to interrupt, but I'm Mallory and I hate my life. My parents are divorced because they have absolutely no love for each other. The world is at a constant state of war. My twin brother is a weirdo. I probably won't get to eat mint chocolate chip ice cream for the next 18 months. But it could be worse?

The next person that boarded the van is some kid who looks our age. He was too busy crying to say anything about himself.

After that there was this one kid who just stared off into space for three minutes before talking. “My sister is in the Death Corps. I wonder how she's doing. She's almost done with her service.”

“What's her name, child?” Guerilla asked from the front seat.

“Eden. Eden Mendoza. I'm Wren, her little sibling,” The kid said. I could not tell the gender of that thing, and apparently, neither could anyone else.

“Oh, Himmel. Her left leg's been completely blown off I tell ya. Blood everywhere, it flew six or seven feet away from her, what a sight! But don't worry, she's doin’ better,” Guerilla informed. 

Fitz and I looked at each other, eyes both wide. The boy started crying harder. Wren's mouth was agape. “Her- Her leg was blown off??”

“Mhm, that's not even the worst I've witnessed on the battlefield. She uses a prosthetic leg now.” The fact Guerilla could say that with such a straight face shows how traumatizing serving for the Death Corps would be. I can't wait. (That's sarcasm, for those of you who are a little slow.)

After Guerilla collected all of the recruits, there were a total of eight people in the back of the van. Four boys, three girls, and one whatever the hell Wren was. The oldest in the van was a 21 year old man, the youngest was Wren, being 14 years old.

When we arrived at the camp, boy, was it crowded. There were varying expressions, from people trembling and crying to people being… excited to be here? You have a 51.6% death rate from serving in Death Corps, and you're excited? I wish I was that optimistic about dying. 

“Mallory, if I die, please hide my phone from Dad. One wrong click and he's going to bring me back from the dead and kill me again,” Fitz told me. I wonder how he'd feel knowing two years after he said that, I went through his phone and found out exactly why he said that.

“Same goes with me. If Dad found the drawings in my sketchbook, I'm done for.” I've never gotten along with Fitz well, but I guess it's easier to talk with someone when you're both in a life-or-death situation.

A loud siren came from way up front and a man who appeared to be around his mid-30's stepped up on the podium. “Welcome all Death Corps recruits. I am Eifrit, the current General of Death Corps. You are all gathered here today to serve your required 18 month term. You will undergo training and testing to decide which subunit is the most fitting for you. We wish the best for you, and as our founder would say, ‘Experiri non mori.’ Thank you.”

I think I'm going to start writing my suicide note. Death Corps, you guys can get a special shout out.

Chapter Two - 02/01/2XXX

“Alright, everyone from van SK431 come to this side! I will be doing a fitness test to see if you are fit to be in battle. I will be doing this with the aid of my helper, Andromeda. Introduce yourself, Andromeda!” Guerilla announced.

Andromeda was slightly shorter than Guerilla and had a nose piercing, a mole above her lips, split dyed black and white hair, and purple eyes that seemed as if they lost the glimmer in them a long time ago. “Hello trainees, my name is Andromeda, as Guerilla said, and I serve as a medic in the Death Corps. I will be doing a full body examination, and then we will run some exercises to test your stamina, dexterity, and strength. Any questions before we begin?”

“Ew a full body exam?? Are we going to like, have to strip naked or something?” Some ugly boy exclaims. He was one of the guys that were excited to be here.

“I don't want to see your small dick either, buddy. I have to do this, unfortunately.” Most of the group burst into laughter as whoever that guy was tried to come up with a comeback.

“Oh yeah? Well I bet um… Um… I bet you uh… You smell bad?!” That was the worst attempt at an insult I've ever seen.

Andromeda ignored his statement and moved onto the actual inspections. Fitz went first in a dingy tent with a caduceus on the front. He came back ten minutes later traumatized.

This part is icky and I'm sure you don't want to read it so I'll skip to the part after the whole medical exams. There were person shaped targets lined up and we were each handed a pistol. 

“You all have to shoot the targets. You get two tries, we'll be looking for people that have great accuracy,” Guerilla explained. “You kid, you're up first.”

Wren closed an eye and got into shooting position. The bullet hit a perfect bullseye.

“How did you do it? It was probably just a lucky shot!” A guy shouted.

“I'm used to shooting, my parents taught me when I was younger to prepare me for this. I prefer sniping more, though,” Wren said.

“You're hella good kid, shoot again?” Guerilla rested an arm on their shoulder. They nodded before getting back into position and shooting again, this time a little off from the bullseye. Guerilla wrote something down on a paper and let the weird guy– who's name I later learned was Lawrence– shoot. He used both his shots immediately and just barely hit the target. Guess we know who isn't going to be a shooter. Fitz was after two other people, and he did average. He hit pretty close to the bullseye the first time, and hit somewhere on the outer edges on the second try. I went last, and I had a stunning realization: I need glasses. And I need to find out which eye was my dominant eye. 

“Loser,” Fitz snickered. I elbowed him.

“This is why you're the one that was an accident,” I retorted. He didn't say anything back.

“Next up is close combat! Since there are eight people gathered here, we'll do this tournament style!” Guerilla seemed a little too enthusiastic to watch people fight each other.

First match was some random girl against Fitz. I'm not sure if pitting a girl against a boy is a good idea but equal rights, equal fights. The other recruits, Guerilla, and I watched as Fitz and the girl threw punches at each other. Fitz landed a punch on her nose, and I think something in that girl snapped because she kicked him right where it hurts the most. Everyone felt the pain Fitz felt as he fell to the ground with a groan.

“I win!” The girl smiled. She held her hand out to help Fitz up, but he swatted it away.

“I'm in extreme pain, I don't think I can get up yet,” Fitz groaned. Who's the loser now?”

“I know you can do it, Fitz. Get up if you want to survive,” Guerilla walked towards him and slightly nudged him with her foot. He got up immediately and stood right next to me.

I let him rest his arm on my shoulder as the next match started. It was Wren versus the 21 year old. Okay, these matches are getting a bit unfair now, aren't they? Wren probably just started going through puberty and they're fighting someone who's old enough to drink? The match started with Wren charging directly at the man, and the man retaliated by body slamming Wren on the floor. The thud was loud, but the silence after Wren's eyes closed was louder. 

“That was a child? You could've gone easier on the thing!” Guerilla squatted to feel Wren's pulse. “They're still alive, I'll go call Andromeda. You shouldn't have done that during training, but I like your attitude, man. You better show the same strength on the battlefield, soldier. I'll be back soon. Mallory, you look after everyone.”

The sound of Guerilla's boots hitting the ground decrescendoed as she left the training site. The man looked down on the floor where Wren laid and sat down. “Damn,” He said.

Damn indeed. 

Guerilla returned with Andromeda, who came to pick Wren up, with another girl by her side. She had the same chocolate eyes and facial structure as Wren. The doctor's coat and skirt were long, but not enough to cover the prosthetic leg she had. Was she Himmel? 

“Wren has a minor concussion, but they'll be fine with a little rest. When they wake up, tell them big sis says hi.” Himmel patted their hair before getting up. “Andromeda will supply the medicine to quicken recovery.”

“Thank you, Himmel. I'll tell you when the kid wakes up again.” Guerilla seemed like a genuinely nice person outside of the battlefield. “In the meantime, let's have our third match. Mallory versus Lewis.”

Lewis was the kid that was crying the whole trip here. When the match started, he stood and waited for me to attack. I was about to do the same until I realized that it was a pussy move. So I kicked his shins hard. He fell to the floor immediately and begged for mercy. I think what happened to Wren scared him.

“Mallory wins… I guess. I don't think that counts as much of a win, but great job?” Guerilla stared at Lewis with a pitiful expression. “I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Alright, fourth match starts in a minute!”

“You only won because Lewis is weak. If you went against anyone else, you'd lose,” Fitz told me. 

“You're not wrong.” I weigh 100 pounds and I am 5’6, of course I would lose against anyone that wasn't Lewis.

The fourth match was Lawrence versus a girl. These people need to say their names. I'm going to confuse the readers by saying “this girl” or “this guy” for the millionth time. I should use adjectives to make it a little easier to differentiate. Pink haired girl. That works.

Back to the story, I watched Lawrence win against the pink haired girl, but she put up a pretty strong fight. She seems normal, unlike Lawrence. She was crying a little in the van, but now she looks like she's just accepted her fate. Girl same. 

“What a fight, huh? Most of you guys did great. After Wren wakes up, we'll do an obstacle course,” Guerilla declared. An obstacle course doesn't sound too bad. I'm pretty quick, I have experience. By experience I mean running away from my brother after I eat the last piece of cake. But I'm sure it won't be that bad, right?

Right?

Chapter Three - 02/01/2XXX

I was wrong. It was that bad.

Wren woke up 30 minutes later after Andromeda and Himmel visited, confused. Hope they didn't get amnesia. Guerilla gave them some of the pain medication, but other than the confusion they seemed alright. 

“Sorry for knocking you out and giving you a concussion or something,” Wren's opponent apologized.

“It's okay. Maybe. I understand why you did that, I would've done the same.” Wren forced a smile. Really shitty apology, but good on them for accepting(?) it.

“Okay, now that Wren is back, it's time for the obstacle course. I'm tired of explaining so this should make sense. Y'all have seen obstacle courses before. Coming back in one piece is optional, I'll tell Andromeda to wait at the end and I'll stay here and make sure none of you losers cheat.” Guerilla does not get paid enough to deal with us and I feel her. 

It started with loser boy Lewis tripping and falling face first on the mud. I- along with many others- ran over him. Sorry Lewis. We had to jump hurdles, which almost led to my downfall. After that, it was climbing a cliff and landing the jump on a mattress. 

You get what happens during obstacle courses. I was neck to neck with pink haired girl for most of it until the final stretch, where I made it first. Fitz was third and Wren was behind him. Lewis was last, as always. This boy is a true example of a loser, Fitz, not me.

Guerilla decided to give us a break before starting an… intelligence test? Lawrence failed, as expected. Zero questions right, how does that happen? Fitz got half the questions right. I got 80%, good for me. Wren got one more question right than I did. I got outscored by a 14 year old. I need to evaluate my life choices.

“Folks, since we've completed all the tests, y'all get a break and tomorrow morning we have an assembly. There, you will get sorted into groups based on your performance today. I'm going to drink until I pass out, don't disturb me, your dorms are over there.” Guerilla pointed to a rundown shack. 

I only had one word when I walked in. Gross. Even my brother's underwear doesn't smell as bad as this place.

When I stepped in, it smelled like literal ass. There were four bunk beds, so I played safe and got a bunk above Fitz. The shower was freezing, but it felt refreshing to be able to shower. 

“Guys, appear normal. The troop leaders are doing a check on every training regiment and I want a raise. If you're on your best behavior, I'll let you sleep in an extra five minutes.” Guerilla entered our shack 45 minutes later when most of us were all freshened up. 

Waiting didn't take too long, because it was only two minutes after Guerilla announced a troop leader was arriving when one actually did.

Dear readers, I don't usually find anyone that attractive. But this troop leader? God damn, when I tell you she was fine! She had light blue hair that went to her lower back, a scar that started from her nose to above her right eye, electric blue eyes, and a tank top that revealed her arm muscles. She had a black cap sporting the Death Corps emblem on too. She looked scary in a different way than Guerilla did.

“This the training regiment from van SK431, correct? May I see the results of the tests?” She inquired. “To those who don't know me, my name is Lupus. I'm troop leader 172. Some of you guys might be in my troop, depending on your scores.” Please Lord let that be me. “Hey, Guerilla. This year we have a lot of interesting candidates, hm?”

“Yup,” Guerilla agreed, passing Lupus the papers with our scores, “Sirens little cousin is here, right? Van AE382? I recall working with Siren. Cool guy.”

“Mhm. He was a beast on the battlefield. Let's pray his little cousin is like that.” Even I have heard of Siren. One of the Death Corps best recruits. He killed a bunch of people and showed zero remorse. He left after his term was up, however. The top generals would pay him millions if it meant he would come back. If his cousin was coming here, maybe they would be just as badass as Siren.

Lupus examined the papers, eyes widening at some. “You have some good recruits, Guerilla, but…” Lupus whispered the second part to Guerilla.

“Mmm, we're probably going to put ‘im in the clean-up crew. Scores are underwhelming compared to everyone else in the group.” Of course they're talking about Lewis. The same Lewis who was, for some reason, fast asleep. For context, it was 5:21 pm. 

Lupus and Guerilla chatted about tomorrow and sorting us into troops. I also heard something about code names. The code names they suggested for me before they actually chose my current one were bad. If I had to tell people my name was Speedy I would leave Death Corps even if it meant they would hunt me down. I'll reveal what my code name was at a later point. For now, back to Lupus.

She left our shack, taking the papers to the higher ranks. Guerilla praised us and told us we were good little children for behaving and we would get our 5 minutes of extra sleep. Are we going to have our lesson on coloring in the lines next? Are we going to learn the alphabet? Guerilla was only three years older than the oldest person in our training regiment, so her treating us like kindergarteners doesn't make much sense.

The rest of the day was pretty eh. It was just me doodling in my sketchbook and talking to the only two people I was okay with talking to.

Lights out came shortly after I had finished one of my drawings. I can barely fall asleep on normal days, so of course me being on a bed that felt like a brick made it even worse. The next day we would finally figure out who would go where for extra training based on our strengths and weaknesses. I was going to be separated from Fitz and Wren. I was going to be in a war that changed everything.

Chapter Three Point Five - Why am I Here??

I should interrupt the story with some Death Corps lore. It all started with the war for more land. Humans are selfish beings, they always want more than what they have. they were willing to do anything for some land that was discovered. That land also happened to have a bunch of resources and riches, so that made the wars much worse. The war has been going on for just about a decade now. Every army is different, but in the country I'm in, it has the infamous Death Corps. Death Corps was founded by two siblings, Shams and Qamar. Their real names are unknown, but it was founded just before the war started. At first, it was just recruiting whoever wanted to join and whoever was strong enough. Then, they started getting desperate. They needed more support. They let in whoever wanted to join. The conditions worsened, and they had to resort to forcing everyone to serve in the army.

[byakuyasdarling]

『 ᴀɴᴅʀᴇᴀɢᴀᴍɪ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ {ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ} 』

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎: First childhood friends, to a one-sided rivalry, and now close once more.

It’s been almost a year since Freya and Byakuya fell in love at their former high school, Green Hills, and are now attending Hope’s Peak Academy. And yet, they still cannot admit in words what they feel for one another.

❝ 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. ❞ — 𝘍. 𝘚𝘤𝘰𝘵𝘵 𝘍𝘪𝘵𝘻𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘥

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡ — Short Fic

[ Okay to Reblog — reblogs are appreciated :) ]

Two sat within a nook of a wide expanse, obscured by the metaphorical labyrinth of intertwining bookcases and the shadows they cast from the warm glow of dusk. There was an intimacy in the dimly lit and confined space, as each shallow breath became audible as the sound reverberates around the nook. The two read silently while indulging in their quiet affection, being engulfed in the plush fabric of bean bags — the young female’s idea, of course. Her other half, the taller male, pulls the chain of an antique lamp situated next to them — the light’s warm hues flooding the secluded space.

The girl places her delicate hand atop his, causing him to tense slightly before clumsily grasping at her fingers with his, letting his thumb rub against the side of her palm.

“Freya…” he murmurs, before gripping her hand tighter, “this… we can’t have this.”

Freya makes a soft sound, almost of pain. “No… no… we can. Don’t be like that, Byakuya.”

He exhales somewhat heavily, shaking his head. “It’s not just about your desires, Freya.”

“— Our desires, Byakuya.” she corrects, as he consequently sighs.

“Our desires.” Byakuya repeats rather reluctantly. “I’m sure you need no reminder of our positions, regardless. We can’t have this.” He squeezes her hand tighter on that last word, almost painfully so, yet the passion his gesture communicates is blatantly for her.

She mulls over her options, but decides on a rhetorical to force him to articulate and justify his position, “Why?” she asks.

“I’m not playing mind games, Orator,” the coldness is apparent in his tone. She looks at him a bit wistfully, though he avoids any eye contact and vulnerability, guilt, or regret that may ensue by merely looking at her hurt expression.

“Byakuya… talk to me, look at me… please…” the desperation triggers his protective instinct for her, snapping his gaze to hers instantaneously; his eyes can’t help but soften. Damn it.

“I cannot go against my family and it’s traditions that have lasted generations. This is how we’ve survived, this is how we stay in power. This? Us? It holds no benefit to my family. It is weakness.”

“Is that what 'us' is to you, Byakuya? Merely a point of weakness?”

“If that will stop your pointless dribble, then yes.” he cuts. Silence follows his remark as Freya blankly stares at him, knowing that was an obvious cop-out. With a dismissive “Tch”, he continues, “Even if I chose to pursue you, do you really think I could actually escape the shadow of my family? Or the expectations of society? So what if it is all archaic and outdated? It works.”

“Yes, actually. Byakuya, you’re the heir, they rely on you now. They can’t get rid of you, they can’t replace you, and they can’t dismiss you. You make the rules now. Do you even hear yourself? You’re letting them dictate your life, you’re acting powerless!”

“Powerless?” A hint of venom slithers its way off his tongue. “I’m not powerless.”

“Stop acting like it then.” However firm Freya sounds now, there was an undercurrent of care in her voice. She dials back to a softer tone — it’s hard for her to be so angry or even argue. “They control and abuse you like a tool. You owe them nothing. If they don’t like it, they can deal with it because they’re the problem, not you.”

“Abuse? That a rather bold claim, I hope you can back it up.” he scoffs.

“They never parented you, they never treated you with kindness. What did they actually do for you except giving you wealth? They use you and you know it.”

If it were anyone else, he’d demand an apology for such accusations. But this is Freya, he can’t falsify some conjecture about the grandness of his family — or that cold hard discipline was a gift to make him a dedicated, efficient man. Byakuya wants to say that, wants to think that, wants to believe that… but such is cognitive dissonance, which goes against his principles of honesty to her. Because she’d see through it in an instant; she would never believe it, hence speaking lies benefits no one.

So instead, they stare at one another in a perpetual, solemn silence. Their deep, exhausted breathing and her whimpers bounce around the nook, echoing and magnifying the sound of heartbreak. He can’t stand the look in her eyes, the tears obscuring her starry eyes he has looked into over many years… over many iterations of herself; yet she always remained soft and kind, yet he always loved each and every version of who she is. And in that moment, he isn’t the man his father groomed him to be, he was a lost boy longing to be found, and wanted to hold the hand of the little girl he called his first friend, his only friend, and his only love. He swallows a lump in his throat, breaking the minute of quiet.

“What do you see in me?”

Part of her wants to lash out and run, distancing herself from the situation. Part of her wants to frame it as ineffectual with pretty conjecture with words like glass diamonds — but when faced with the hard malice of reality, a counterfeit diamond shatters and the beauty along with it, leaving only the hurtful truth. Freya meets his eyes with her own, the steely blue of his has lost their lustre. In that brief instance, she finally realises he’s hurting too… and badly. His eyes resemble that of a wounded animal far more than the predatory gleam he usually possesses.

“Everything… I see everything.” Her voice is reduced to a gentle whisper, weak and fragile — passionate still, yet destitute of the oratory prowess that cemented her speaking talent as ‘ultimate’. “But what I see most, is a loyal, principled man who will always do what’s right. But I also see a lonely man, and a man who never got the chance to grow outside of his family. I see a man who still needs to find himself and come to terms with the fact he isn’t a machine. And I know you, Byakuya. Because I’ve always known you, ever since we were children. I still see that boy in you, and he is crying.”

Byakuya sits in the quiet left after she spoke, perhaps for a little too long judging by her pleading eyes — but he starts gently rubbing his thumb up against her palm again. Finally, he forces out an answer.

“We first met here, in this library…”

Freya nods gently in an encouraging manner and a gentle, small smile, “Yes, of course.”

“We were so different.”

“Not really.”

Byakuya takes a moment to think, “Perhaps not.”

…

“Freya?”

“Yes, Byakuya?”

“I'll make sure we always stay together, I promise.”

[softboiledteacozy]

"Making a big deal out of any dish they make for you" combined with "help fix their outfit before they leave" for any combination in 4ggravate. You can pick two, three, all four, i just want to be at least a little vague for revenge.

You definitely get to be a bit vague for revenge since my own prompt was pretty vague. Wonderful prompt, btw, so thanks Alex 💜

Prompt list here

I surprisingly ended up focusing on Kavetham, though the whole thing is still 4ggravate and does involve all four of them. I tried to be brief because otherwise I would have ended up with a multichapter thing here.

Story under this readmore:

"Will you hold still for a moment?" Kaveh hisses.

His hands pull at both ends of a dark green silk tie which currently hangs listlessly around Alhaitham's neck, as though it has given up on ever getting tied. Haitham sighs, not for the first time this evening, and rolls his eyes far back enough that his head tilts back with the motion.

"I swear, you're like a petulant child sometimes," Kaveh goes on to say, but Haitham can feel the warmth rolling off his tongue, completely at odds with his words of choice. The architect's fingers find their way to Haitham's chin and hold him in place. "There, stay just like that. I'll be done in just a second."

"Why are we doing this again?" Haitham finds himself asking. He actually holds himself still this time, perhaps enjoying the way Kaveh's breath tickles his exposed neck as he leans in to do an intricate knot that will inevitably feel too tight the rest of the evening.

"It's our anniversary," Kaveh replies matter-of-factly.

"Our anniversary was two months ago."

Kaveh's hands stop, but they keep a gentle grip on Haitham's collar. This lets him know Kaveh is not done with him yet, so he does not move. He does, however, stare the man dead in the eye and cock his brow at him in silent question.

"You actually remember." It should feel insulting that Kaveh sounds so surprised, but Haitham supposes he can't blame him. It's not like they've ever made a big deal of it at any point over the years.

"How could I forget? I even cooked for you that evening."

"You mean you made that yourse-- Alhaitham! You should've said something. I thought you'd just happened to order takeout that day."

Haitham sighs, again. "I learned the recipe from the owner of the tavern because I know you like that dish. Before you say anything, Cyno was the one who did the actual talking. I don't know if he sweet-talked it out of the man or just intimidated Lambad into giving it to him. He just handed me the paper, and I simply followed the instructions."

Kaveh opens his mouth but can't seem to find the words to say, so he just closes it again. He repeats this motion a few times, lips flapping uselessly, before finally remembering he has a half-tied tie in his hands and Haitham is still waiting for him. So he pulls at the ends once again, this time to wrap the tie up in an intricate knot that contrasts beautifully with the subtle pattern on Haitham's dark suit. He then pulls him by the tie into a kiss, hoping this will convey all that he cannot bring himself to express in words right now.

"You're welcome," Haitham mumbles against his lips once Kaveh pulls back. "Now why are we doing this again? Since we've established it's clearly not our anniversary."

"Not our anniversary," Kaveh corrects him, poking Haitham in the chest and then pointing to himself. "Our anniversary." And as he says this, he draws a circle in the air to also encompass two people who are, unbeknownst to Alhaitham, currently waiting for them at a candlelit restaurant in another part of town, overlooking the moonlit bay.

"Oh," is all he can think to say.

Haitham takes a moment to think back and try to pinpoint the exact day Kaveh is referring to. It's clearly not the first time the four of them shared a bed; that happened some years ago during a shared leave where they had happened to coincide in their choice of lodgings at that lakeside resort in Fontaine. It couldn't be when they'd teamed up to overthrow the government because they weren't all together at that point yet. Perhaps Kaveh was thinking of something more mundane... And that's when it hits him.

"You mean when the four of us had that talk at the tavern last year."

"Of course."

"You've been keeping track?"

"You mean you haven't?"

Haitham ignores the jab. He takes a deliberate step back, turning around to look at himself in the mirror where Kaveh had been touching up his make-up before he saw Haitham struggling behind him.

Not bad, he thinks as he inspects Kaveh's handiwork on the tie. Having given himself time to think this through, he finally speaks, "Not keeping close enough track to consider today as significant in our relationship, or to even think of it as our shared anniversary, no. Especially not as our first one."

Kaveh steps up behind him , chin resting on his shoulder as he joins him in the contemplation of their reflection. Their eyes meet in the mirror. "Then when /would/ you consider is a good date, since you're getting pedantic about this?"

Haitham doesn't answer right away, taking the time to consider the significant times the four of them have shared together over the years. They've toed the line between casual involvement and established relationship for quite some time, perhaps never actually needing to give it a name or anything like an official status.

It wasn't until a year ago, when they had been gathered at the tavern on a regular night out, that the topic had been broached - by Kaveh, no less.

Cyno had been idly shuffling a deck, talking about the beauty of probability with Haitham, who was in turn debating with him over the use of strategy in a controlled environment. Tighnari had been lightly leaning against Haitham, partly to listen in to their conversation and partly just because it was a cool night and Haitham's cape always felt comfortably warm to the touch. Kaveh, half-finished wineglass sitting before him, had been sketching them, as much for the dynamic posture the three men had adopted as for the simple desire to capture this moment and freeze it in time, even if just in a simple drawing.

He had suddenly stopped and looked up from the sketchbook, waiting for their shared attention to focus on him before asking, "What are we?"

The ensuing debate had continued late into the night, spilling out of the tavern after closing time and back to Haitham's house.

And the rest, as they said, was history. Perhaps Kaveh was right in this regard. This simple night probably did count as their 'official' anniversary, in a way.

"I'm not being pedantic," Haitham clarifies first. "I just hadn't considered that we even needed a shared date, especially since the process itself was a lot more involved than just the four of us deciding we were together. Are we supposed to celebrate every iteration of our joint relationship?"

Kaveh shrugs and moves away, rummaging through a small lacquer box where he keeps his jewelry as he looks for the perfect accesory to go with his white suit.

"I don't see why not," he says as he reaches back to tie an emerald pendant around his neck. Haitham wordlessly grabs it from him and attaches it himself. Kaveh nods in thanks as he continues speaking. "Any excuse for a celebration is worth pursuing, isn't it?"

"Says the man who likes to lavishly spend on everything," Haitham chides him.

"This is just a one time thing. Tonight is special... Well, they're all special, but tonight is a cause for extra celebration because it was a culmination of sorts. I'm sure even you can see that."

Haitham sighs. "Alright, you've made your point, and I see where you're coming from."

Kaveh beams, and Haitham swears the room feels a little brighter than it did a moment before.

"So you agree?" Kaveh prods.

"I never said I agreed. I just said I see your point, which is not the same."

Kaveh then grumbles for some time, as though debating with himself whether to take Haitham's bait or not. Eventually, he throws both hands in the air with a huff. "You know what? Fine, I'll take that. I'm sure Nari and Cyno will agree with me anyway."

"So long as this doesn't set a precedent for how we're supposed to celebrate our respective anniversaries in the future," Haitham warns him.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you and Cyno can keep locking yourselves up in your room all day."

"And Tighnari will still be perfectly content not even acknowledging the date beyond sending a flower and a simple homemade dish," Haitham agrees with a curt nod. "Where are we going now anyway? You wouldn't have made me dress up like this just to head to the tavern."

"It's a surprise," Kaveh sing-songs.

Haitham makes a face at that. He does not like surprises. He does not like having to deviate from his usual routine. Kaveh is more than aware of this fact, so he's quick to amend. "Don't worry, it's just going to be us four, and the place is quiet. Nari and I scouted out the site beforehand to make sure you'd be comfortable."

"I trust you," Haitham nods, and Kaveh knows this encompasses all of you. He looks visibly less distraught too, which feels like a victory. Kaveh is confident he might even convince Haitham to repeat this every year, if he plays his cards right.

Haitham goes to fetch his keys, wallet, and book, stuffing them inside his belt pouch before opening the front door. No turning back now. "Fine then, let's go."

Kaveh is in the process of grabbing his own set of keys when a thought belatedly occurs to him.

"...Wait. Does this mean you've had Lambad's recipe in your possession for two months, and you haven't let me have it yet?"

"We're going to be late."

"Alhaitham!"

The two men step out into the night, softly bickering all the way to the restaurant. Here, at the only occupied table, one of the two men opens his eyes, one long ear twitching.

"They're here," Tighnari states.

"Did you h-ear them coming already?" Cyno asks with a grin.

Tighnari masterfully manages to avoid even acknowledging the pun. "They're talking about hummus, apparently."

"And they say romance is dead."

This actually earns Cyno a chuckle from Tighnari, but their conversation is cut short as they spot Haitham and Kaveh approaching. Nari waves at them and sees Kaveh visibly perk up as he spots them sitting at the table.

"Sorry for the wait," Kaveh greets them. "We ran into a little problem."

"I hope you two have bean well," Cyno replies, getting up to kiss the two in greeting.

"You heard us talking about hummus, didn't you?" Haitham states as much as he asks.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," is all Cyno will offer.

As Haitham sits at the table and regards the three men before him, he feels something tugging in his chest, and the feeling only intensifies as both Cyno and Nari reach for his hand and give it a gentle squeeze to welcome him.

As they raise their glasses and toast to the four of them, to whatever it is they have cultivated here, Haitham admits one thing to himself, albeit privately. Perhaps Kaveh was right in this regard. Perhaps some things are worth celebrating, if only as a culmination of their existence.

[arcplaysgames]

The Persona 5 Post-Mortem, Part Two: What I Did Like 8)

Okay let's talk about what I liked about Persona 5 Royal because despite tearing it a new one last post I think it did a lot of good things.

Joker is a great fucking character.

We made it, folks, we did it. We have a player-directed mostly silent protagonist who is just bursting with personality.

My biggest and loudest complaint about Persona 4 Golden was the protagonist. I felt like he was such a blank, empty void that the game frequently had to compensate for the space he should have filled.

Joker was the perfect answer to almost everything. He was vibrant, funny, heartfelt, and kind of a bitch. He had force of personality. There was backstory to him that drove the story. Instead of "grey dude staying in small town for a year, no further details available" we had

"Do-gooder gets framed for assault and is forced out of his small hometown, moving to Fucking Tokyo to attend a prestigious but strict high school, all while being told at every turn to make himself small, to not make waves lest he fuck up his life more. He tries to do as he's told but his desire to push back and protect people gets him in trouble almost immediately."

P4MC gets involved in the Inaba murder mystery because he fell in a TV; Yosuke is the one with personal motivation to start with. Joker gets involved in the Metaverse because he's genuinely motivated to help people and push back against authority. If you took out the personas, the wild cards, the supernatural element of this story, Joker would still be an interesting person and something would have happened to him regardless.

Joker also is much more than a passive observer to the plot. He is a catalyst. He is inherently wrapped up in the central conflict. He's a showoff, he has a vicious grin when he's pulled off something clever, he's actually a Trickster. He's a fucking character!

And while he is player-directed, Joker absolutely, genuinely has his own motivations separate from player control. He has attachments that the player doesn't decide for him, and in Royal it becomes the most shocking moment of the game.

There is more authorship to Joker, and he is not just the player's avatar. There was zero reason for P4MC to be gender locked because he was almost entirely built from the player's projection. Joker succeeds by being his own person who the player is guiding.

The secondary cast of the game is frequently very good.

Hot take: I think Sojiro is a better character than at least half of the Thieves. He's more complex, has more gravity, and feels like a part of the world in the way the literal main cast often does not.

And it's not just Sojiro. I think the non-teammate SLinks in P5R are broadly speaking much better than the previous games. Yeah, I am annoyed at how much Atlus just cannot stop writing grizzly sad dads while keeping single moms off camera, but. i cannot deny that the actual characters we get are good.

Sojiro, Maruki, Kawakami, Tae, Iwai, Toranosuke, even Mishima who I hated as a person but have to admit he was an interesting link. Compared to previous Persona games, I was more interested and invested in more SLinks in this game than in P3 and P4. And honestly I don't think any were Actively Terrible like, say, P3's Hanged Man or P4's Devil.

I think this is aided by how varied the SLinks are. Many of the SLinks in P3 and P4 are other students, and that kind of limited what stories they could tell, imo. In P5R, we have an ex-yakuza gun nut who adopted an abandoned child, a fairly unethical disgraced doctor who is trying to test a new drug, a failed politician who still believes in governance of the people-- these are interesting! They're good! Not to be flippant but they're better than "yet another classmate, but this one is Wacky because X reason."

Living in digital Tokyo was honestly a delight.

Okay yes I have some complaints about the lack of localization in P5R's environments and how the lack of context really hurt a few sections of this game and I really stand by that.

HOWEVER, as someone with a dear friend and penpal in Tokyo, it was... honestly really nice to explore the city as much as the game let me. One of the real joys of the game was just experiencing a simulacrum of that space for a year. I got a laugh out of the POLLEN WARNING!!!! days and how similar they are to my own days in Georgia. And as someone who has never lived in a city and only academically understands how they are laid out and function, just exploring busy streets was fun.

A few times, i skipped using the Fast Travel menu just to walk to the various places I needed to visit.

I loved Kichijoji the most. 8) And the little moments when i recognized a place (my gasp of delight at the FIRST TIME I saw Shinjuku!!!), that was fun because learning the layout of Tokyo gave all those locations more of a sense of scale and place.

Inaba was frankly very similar to my own super small midwestern town in America. Digital Tokyo was a new experience I really enjoyed.

Morgana was a talking cat that slept in Joker's school desk and rode around in his bag.

Enough fucking said. As someone who is not a dog person, it's nice to finally have a game for the Cat People. Finally some goddamn representation.

Yes, I think Joker faking his own death and Yaldaboath as the final boss were messy as hell, BUT...... they were stylish.

I could (and have) sat here and poked holes in these sequences, the two Huge Setpieces that anchor the game. We all know by now that both are messy as hell, don't make a lot of sense, and don't really hold up to scrutiny.

However: unlike the Izanami reveal in P4G which Just Sucked (and I will never stop mocking), these flawed climaxes are smoothed over by the full tilt all-in bombast employed.

They were fun enough to make me go "well, I can't be mad at every damn thing." Which is something.

The Third Semester/Royal Content.

This probably needs to be its own post, because it is dense enough to be its own game and singlehandedly saved Persona 5.

Part Three soonish!

[nuntia]

Guide you into the night

Year Zero Earth Ghoul & Young Terzo

Preface: Rime was always a strict rule-abider. Ghouls could not be in the same space as humans unless required or in an emergency. However, he could not remain indifferent to a young Terzo who was looking for someone to stay by his side until he fell asleep.

warnings: mention of social phobia, angst in the 'final notes' (return rituals)

[SECRETS FROM THE CLERGY]

Although this is no longer the case, until the end of papacy of His Eminence Papa Emeritus II, the law prohibiting the occupation of common spaces in the Abbey by Ghouls was still in effect. It was not invigorating in essence, but Ghouls could be punished if it was deemed necessary.

In the 70s, however, it was a rigid, indisputable and unbreakable law. Anyone who dared to defy could face the worst of punishments.

Rime was not the first, much less the last, to break it. However, this Ghoul went down in the history of both the Abbey and the infernal servants: and not in a good way.

Today, I bring you the context: the draft of a letter written by the Earth Ghoul himself.

----

❝

I am hesitant to make this situation immortal into oblivion, to give proof that this really happened, and perhaps a painful return to the pit from which I emerged would be my punishment. But, Thy Reverence, thou ask it of me, and I will give it.

In two and a half months it will be five years since you challenged my whole being, exposing me to a fear of mine with no escape in sight.

I was in the practice room rearranging the scores of Agarat and Citrus for the next practice day. The halls were silent and nothing could be seen out the window but the woods occasionally lit by lightning that sometimes gave time to count to 10, sometimes barely gave time to blink before making the walls vibrate.

It was cold, too.

Curfew was approaching and – as ye well know my dedication to law-abidingness – I was preparing to leave the room as soon as I had put all the dossiers in their proper place on the bookshelf.

Then, as I was turning around the couch to reach said bookcase, two knocks on the door were heard.

I did not have time to answer before the door open and I feel an icy feeling rise in my chest as I saw neither claws, nor horns, nor a long tail appear. Instead, a very small being wrapped in a very long, thick nightclothes poked its head in.

You stare expectantly at the room dimly lit by the single yellowish-light standing lamp for several seconds, especially at the chair where Papa Nihil used to sit while we rehearsed chords. Meanwhile, I tried to camouflage myself in the environment, in the little shadow that the bookshelves were, containing my breath and any other movements besides my eyes (which I still tried to contain, without blinking much).

I saw your eyes wilt, though, at not finding whatever it was you were looking for. And then you looked at me, so surprised while I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

We were silent for what seemed like an eternity before thou said, still clutching the door handle, your voice low and embarrassed:

"My father, where is he?"

I did not have the words to answer you right away. Well, I even had words, but they sounded strange, meaningless. Any sound, in situations like this, seems to be the most absurd thing in the universe, and I remain silent.

You lower your head, eyes on your feet.

"You cannot talk to me, can you? I don't understand why, you seem to be fun when I see you all together near Primo's garden."

Your words broke some of the ice I was feeling. I do not remember how, but I know I walked up to you. I stopped two steps from you and slowly knelt down until I was your height, the dossier resting on my thighs like a means of defence.

My tongue tingled at the words I wanted to say, but my voice would not make itself heard. I craned my head and shrugged. You understood.

"I thought he was still here. I can't sleep. I wanted him to guide me into the night."

And this time, instead of breaking the ice, my heart was broken. Even without knowing exactly what it was like to have a father figure, I understood from what I saw but interactions of the Siblings of Sin's children that being an Emeritus also meant being alone, even when surrounded by people. Sisters and brothers, siblings, priests and bishops would spend the day with you and your siblings, always making sure you were content, comfortable and indoctrinated. But I know it was not enough.

I know it still is not enough, either.

"Sister E. is sick, and I had a hassle with Brother Grumpy this afternoon, so I don't want him around", you look at me with red, watery eyes. A part of me almost made me fall back on the defensive, but the other, the brave one, was stronger. "Can you help me sleep, please? I won't tell anyone. I promise!" And you held out your tiny little finger to me.

Seeing you like that, when your age did not fill the ten fingers on our hands, did not allow me to remain indifferent.

In the fastest time I could, I extended my little finger and crossed it with yours. You muttered "May this promise to break, may my heart stop" in a mixture of Italian and Latin. I do not judge you, it was late at night and cold.

I thought it was good to repeat your words. I use them until today, exactly as you said them.

I got up and put the dossier down on the leather armchair near the door, and went out into the hall with you at my side.

That is when I felt the weight of my decision. A Ghoul, seen in the presence of a human (a child!) with no requirement or emergency situation, without the supervision of a few dozen other pairs of eyes.

The hall's map seemed to triple in length, the threat at every corner. I tried to disguise the discomfort, but you always had a watchful eye around you.

"Ghouls are agressive to humans?"

I shook my head in a 'sort of'. We were not in the habit of hurting humans. We were not in the habit of hurting each other, unless it is a matter of survival, but we live well here. No need to attack. However, it did happen, especially to Ghouls who had been summoned long ago, or those who worked in certain trades, given their nature.

"You harm humans?"

I widened my eyes, the dark background of the hall suddenly being very interesting.

I denied it with my head frantically.

"Then why do you always stay away? When Sister Imperator isn't around, you could join us in the garden, or in the living common room. The other Ghouls do that sometimes. If you know you won't attack anyone, why are you afraid of yourself?"

I shrugged, a strange feeling on my throat.

You were right, Thy Reverence. I was afraid of what I could do. If laws exist, it is for a reason. Yet if so much had already happened around me and nothing was horrendous, why was I doubting myself? For a law?

I remained, once again, silent. And you accepted it.

We stopped in front of an adorned wooden door, a plaque with your cursed name in cursive font nailed to it.

You held out your hand to me.

You asked me to guide you.

And so I did. I took your small hand in mine, and led you across the decorated room to the large bed that occupied the centre of it. You jumped on the bed, and my muscles moved as they thought was right.

I snuggled you into the warm, thick blankets as you stared at me. I doubt you saw anything at all actually, given the dim light, but I stayed in your angle of vision the whole time.

The hesitation with which I pulled the remaining dark curls out of front of your eyes was quickly replaced by a steady, sure caress after I observed your contentment with the touch.

It was not long before you gave in to the fatigue of the day. You were breathing serenely, and it brought me calm.

I confess I stayed there for long minutes, not only to make sure of your comfort, but to reflect on my existence here, in the Ministry.

My throat tingled twice, until I finally got the courage to murmur to your sleeping figure:

"May the Lord Below guide thou into the night. And may thy mind take thee to a wonderful place in thy sleep."

I then stood up, bowed and checked that the blankets covered you in a whole. After making sure of your quiet once more, I walked to the door.

"Sweet dreams, Thy Reverence, Master Terzo." I said goodbye.

In the end, the one who guided me into the night was you. And I am immensely grateful to you for that, because if I manage to show up for snacks in the refectory today, it is thanks to you.

I am forever indebted.

To Eternity thy servant,

A Nameless Earth Ghoul

❞

– Draft letter from Rime to Terzo, written in November of 1975. (Adapted to modern English, as the Earth Ghoul used a 17th century English structure and grammar in the original version)

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

As the Ghoul feared, the original letter was used as evidence to send him back to hell, and then it was burned. I suppose he made some changes before sending it to third son Emeritus, being that he was always very careful with the words and in the manuscript are several notes of what to change, besides lines and words erased.

Among other things, this is what caused the beginning of the end of the first phase of the Ghost project, the rituals of return of several Ghouls and the revolt of those who remained, before appeasing or having the same end.

I will bring more information on this soon, if you so require.

Today, the Ghouls are given the freedom to move around the Abbey freely, share spaces with the Siblings of Sin and, if they so wish, even participate in the children's education. (Second Reform of the "Law of Servants", Article 4 carried out by Papa Emeritus IV, January 2020)

It is believed that the first reform of this law banning the occupation of common spaces by Ghouls by His Eminence Papa Emeritus III was due to this situation. There are reports that when the rituals were performed, the then teenager tried to interfere and even help Ghouls escape.

Unsuccessfully, of course.

Rime is taken as a reminder that human authority is often arbitrary and absent of empathy. Papa Emeritus IV recalls him at all the Hunter's Moon masses as a reflection and reinforcement of the Dark Lord's ideas and ideals.

With that I say goodbye.

May the Lord Below guides you into de night,

Nuntia

[atlasscrumpit]

My Heaven

I sat on the uncomfortable wooden seat inside one half of the confessional, my hands nervously playing with the hem of my shirt.

Ever since I was born my father had raised me as a 'good religious girl,' but lately I was having doubts.

I had been asking questions over and over, my father had had enough and told me to talk to the priest.

It was like time had slowed down, all I could hear was my own breathing and my heart beating in my chest. I had never been this nervous before in my twenty years of life.

When I heard the sound of footsteps, I took in a deep breath and listened to the old priest sit in the other half of the confessional.

When it went silent I scrabbled to make the sign of the cross on my body before speaking.

"Bless me father, for I have sinned. My last confession was...ten months ago." I muttered as I tried my best to keep my voice steady.

I went silent for a moment as I felt myself get lost in my own mind, my thoughts drifted to a girl named Olivia.

Her dark brown hair, her blue eyes and the purple amethyst she wore around her neck, her laugh, her smile, her...

"I've had thoughts of love." I whispered as I felt tears in my eyes, my hands beginning to shake even more.

"And why do you think loving is a sin?" He asked as I took in another deep breath.

"Because... It's not with a man." I admitted as there was a beat of silence.

I was always a shy girl, never really speaking my mind, but when I thought of Olivia, it made me feel like my voice was worth something.

The priest was about to speak again before I cut him off.

"But, why is it a sin? Why is loving someone so bad? I'm not hurting anyone. When Mr. Howard cheated on his wife everyone prayed for him because he was tempted and they were all there for him. But, if I ever admitted I loved someone I would be abandoned. Why? I don't understand it, why can't I love?" I asked as I began to cry, I covered my mouth and tried to silence my cries.

"God made man and woman for each other, without that how would we have children or order in this world? You've sinned and that's okay, but you need to fix it. Stop those thoughts when they come to you and pray for forgiveness for these ideas." He said as I shut my eyes tight and tried to calm myself down.

"No..." I whispered as I took in a deep breath and thought of Olivia.

"No, I'm not going to force myself to be someone I'm not just because a book said so!" I shouted, surprising myself at my own statement.

"I think you need to go home and talk to your father." The priest said as I stood up and ran out of the confessional.

I ran down the hall of the church and back outside.

I didn't understand, I didn't understand any of it, not one bit.

I was happy, I was in love and for some reason that made me the villain.

I took in a deep breath and slowly fell to my knees. Maybe God had failed me, or maybe given up on me, but yet I still prayed.

"Just let me love, please. I cannot live a life where love is outlawed just because she is a woman!" I shouted at the sky as I breathed heavily.

"Whatever the hell you are, whatever the hell this whole church and belief is! I don't care! How dare you call love a sin!" I screamed, feeling myself breaking down.

I placed my hands on the dirt in front of me and cried, bowing my head.

"I don't want any part of it... My father will hate me, my family will abandon me, but if they abandon me for loving then they were never my family to begin with." I whispered, staring at the ground.

I stayed there for a while, on my knees staring at the dirt until I saw two shoes in front of me.

I looked up and my heart skipped a beat when I saw her beautiful blue eyes looking down at me with worry.

I scrambled to stand up to face her, I took her hands all while still breathing heavily like a maniac.

"What happened? Are you okay?" She asked squeezing my hands in return as I looked at her and smiled, tears forming once more.

"I can't do it anymore, I can't keep praying to something I've never seen only to be ignored. I have been to church every Sunday for my entire life, I have been blessed, I have prayed and done everything I can to please the church but nothing ever felt like heaven until I got to know you." I said with a smile on my face as she looked at me in shock.

"I look at you and everything makes sense. All I want in this life is to make you happy and to be by your side and if that is a crime or a sin then I don't care because as long as I get a lifetime with you, or even just one minute it's worth an eternity in hell." I continued, Olivia's blue eyes stared into mine with surprise.

Time stopped and every single scenario ran through my mind as I looked into her heavenly eyes.

When she smiled at me I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, like the sun had finally shone and the dark cloudy day that was constantly in my mind was finally gone.

She stepped forward, closer and closer as I held my breath.

With my hands still in hers she pulled me forward into a kiss, it was slow and soft and everything I had imagined.

Suddenly I knew what all those stories and movies had talked about, I understood everything but nothing at all.

But, it didn't matter because I knew as long as I saw Olivia in front of me I would never be alone and I would never be afraid again.

She leant away and slowly leant her forehead onto mine, both of us smiling from ear to ear.

"You're my heaven." She whispered, her blue eyes filled with tears as I chuckled softly, letting go of a breath I didn't know I had been holding for twenty years.

"My heaven."

[ender-obsidian]

Gui Yãoxīng, Yāo for short

====[&lt;Gui YāoXīng or Guài bìlíng Yāo (Yāo for short)>]==== <<information>> Yāo is one of the many embodiments of death, but like TAQ (I’ll introduce her soon), is considered a celestial being. He might not be TAQ & LBD’s biological older brother (my AU), but he took hem in as his little sisters and never failed at his duty as an older brother to them both. One day though, before LBD started her plans and ended up being sealed by the Tang monk, Yāo discovered that TAQ is not one being, but two fused to create her. He also found out that the longer he stayed close to her the more her powers became unstable, he tried his best to teach her how to use her powers and control them, but they still slowly became unstable. Left with no choice, he left LBD & TAQ in search of a way to cure her, but he ended up forgetting after a few hundred years and his mind came up with the story that he left them to go beast hunting and ended up earning to titles: “The Kitsune Conquerer” & “The Beast Conquerer”. He now is retired in the underworld, but every now and then meets up with Si Wang, another embodiment of death, and helps him claim some souls.

[age] older than time itself and TAQ & LBD [pronouns] he/him [origins] The underworld then the Celestial realm. [species] an embodiment of death. [friends] none [mentors] self taught [abilities] Telekinesis + variations, mind reading (not good at it), illusions, shape shifting, time & space manipulation (not good at it, and prefers not to use it) [scars] blind in right eye but hides it using illusions. [disabilities] insomniac, somewhat paranoid, half-blind, shakes hands (sometimes) [status] one of the embodiments of death [weapons] The Nine Tails’ Scythe

<<backstory?>> It was a quiet day, in the past, a few thousand or million years from now, at the Bì (meaning: Jade, Green or Blue) temple, the only sound that could be heard was Nüwa (TAQ’s real name, and she isn’t a goddess) and Yāo training as LBD watched them bored, “when can I join you two?” She asked annoyed that Yāo wouldn’t allow her to join them. “You will once your sister can control her flames,” Yāo told her for what seemed to be the fifth time, “you cannot rush time, fate, destiny, or training.” He said, “but don’t worry, you can join in a few minutes.” He smiled noticing LBD’s sad expression, “alright.” She said smiling back at him. “Yāo, I think I got it! I think I-“ Nüwa cheered as she conjured up a small black flame with a blue & purple hue before it started exploding in different directions out of control. Yāo acted quickly conjuring up a shield around LBD & Nuwa, he then started dashing around the room chasing the runaway parts of the flames containing them in a small sphere, he grunted as he landed on the ground capturing the last bit before he cast a silent spell causing the sphere, and it’s flames to whither away… “I’m sorry brother, I couldn’t contain the flames again…” Nuwa said holding her right arm tightly with a sad, disappointed look on her face, “hey hey, it’s ok, you’re trying your best and that’s what matters, you’ll get it right eventually.” Yāo said hurriedly as Nuwa sniffed about to tear up. “But it’s like I get worse at it every time i try, you and sissy nearly got hurt!” She cried, looking at Yāo in the eyes. Yāo opened his mouth then closed it again looking away, knowing that what Nuwa said was true. “That might be true, but you know what they say, practice makes perfect.” LBD said jumping off the short wall she was sitting on, she then brushed a tear away from Nuwa’s eyes smiling encouragingly, “and I’m gonna help you train this time, and if you ever lose control, I’ll just use my ice to stop your powers from going haywire, do you like that plan?” She asked looking at Nuwa in the eyes. Nuwa sniffed nodding. “We’ll then, I guess we three’ll be training together ey?” Yāo smiled rubbing the two girls’ heads, as they giggled…

[lovelovex]

no x posts no announcements, kind rude p don’t you think cutting such a big amount of people who CARE about you guys is too much??? it is hard to keep up with all your updates via fucking RUMORS of all things for fucks sake

oh we’re right off w the accusations ok ok ok sometimes i hate being the spokesperson, P the diplomat, but here we go

i’m gonna use this post for the whole rant bc it’s all p much the same in my inbox:

if ‘rumors’ have been your only source of information for the past i dont rly rmbr how many months honey that’s intentional

sometime in july, before i made that post ab the healing process, we sat down and went thru every email subscribed to our mailing list, every account in every gc we used to have, decided fuck it and created all the new ones, rmbr when we had like 500+ members in one of them? well that’s not happening ever again, outsiders aren’t allowed anymore

did it hurt your feelings being left out?

well it hurt my feelings to find out how many of you were actually involved in the case behind my back, how many of you knew exactly what was happening in those two years and stayed silent or worse – chose to side w the person who wanted to take everything he could away from me

not just me, my friends, my family, the ppl i love more than anything else in this world, have suffered enormously bc of His actions and bc of Your support of those actions

i know exactly who you all are, i have a list of names i dont want to hear ever again in my life

the damage you’ve done is irreparable, and it’s beyond my imagination how any of you still feel entitled to anything, did you rly think i’d never find out? i thought it was common knowledge i always find out one way or another

we’re all grown up ppl, and it’s not my place to tell you who you can or cannot talk to, you’ve made your choices and we’ve made ours, and if you ended up on the outside of the circle, welcome to consequences 101, your actions actually do have an impact, what a concept

the case played a big part in the whole thing, but we’re way past that now, and the thing is – the real reason behind ‘cutting out such a big amount of ppl’ is we’re tired, the better part of our lives was dedicated solely to creating a safe space, and we did, only to realize we’re our own safe space, it’s the ppl, so the shows are still happening, the karaoke nights and the acoustic sessions, i say my thank yous from the stage and in emotional voice msgs at 3am bc my god do i love our space, my little sanity oasis, that part hasn’t and will never change

what changed is that we don’t have to subject ourselves to scrutiny, to any form of judgement anymore rly, what they dont know they can’t ruin i rmbr a post like this somewhere on this blog, i dont have to read your thoughts on every single detail of every single move we make, i only hear opinions from those ppl i actually want to listen to, and no, i dont only surround myself w yes men now, if i do smth wrong i still get called out, rightfully so

what i’m mostly tired of is those half-assed friendships, of ppl who only wanted me smiling and shiny, who would disappear the second things got a bit depressing, i dont know who hurt you, but it wasn’t me, or maybe it was, in that case that’s on you if you never had the guts to open your mouth and actually say smth

yk i’ve had to say so many goodbyes in the last two years, i’ll say some more if it comes to this, i’m getting better at letting ppl come and go, but i could never tolerate indifference or betrayal, and i’ve had enough of both of these things

you can still go off in my inbox, let it all out, i can’t rly stop you, just know it doesn’t make any difference to me

[blutomindpretzel]

Sweetheart bursting the doors open to a pack meeting (I’m guessing the meetings are hosted at a lil office building where they rent out a specific room)-they’re battered up and bloody, holding the wall from behind as they fight unconsciousness. Milo, of course- is out of his seat instantly, before Sweetheart abruptly holds up a hand and spits blood before Milo’s shoes.

The rest of the pack follows, surrounding the two. “Sweetheart, how did-?” “I tried to stop him- Quinn, he- David I- you’re mate, he has them.”

They can barely get the words out between seemingly endless blood-soaked coughing fits. David no longer felt the presence of his panicked pack members, the ones now bustling around him to get Sweetheart healed.

He’s exactly where he was when his father died, standing alone- silent and inconsolable. It takes him a while to get out of his head, and David reminds himself who he is: an alpha, the alpha of this pack, the leader of these people, and leaders help. He wouldn’t help anyone by letting his emotions take over, David decided.

He sighed heavily, running trembling hands down his face and turned to his pack. Darlin was closer than he remembered them being, in fact- they were already half way out the front door by the time David caught their shoulder. “No,” he boomed, “you’re staying here before you do something stupid, we’re staying here.”

“But David, I-“

“Tank- inside- now.”

Darlin growled a weighted sigh and reluctantly stepped past the threshold, feeling the obvious shift in air. God- it was so tense in here. They felt an itch to go, find him, rip his head off, and return Angel home. But before they were a “reckless idiot”, they were a member of this pack. Or whatever catchphrase David adopted all those years ago.

“David, buddy- why?” Asher interjected, reminding the few of his position as he rejoined David by the doorway. And took no time in realizing how he hadn’t moved an inch.

David took a deep breath again, this one far shakier and measured than the last few he attempted to take. Just breathe.

“We do no good in numbers right now, and believe me I want to be out there as much as you do.” David side-eyed a very angry Darlin. “But I cannot risk him finding and taking more of us. The packs safety is my number-one priority as your alpha, and the last thing under that umbrella would be running off and getting into a much bigger fight than we’re prepared for.”

Darlin huffed and stormed past Asher and David to join Marie as she attempted to heal what was left of Milo’s mate. “Of course you’d fucking say that. They’re your mate for gods sake do something about it.” Darlin grumbled as if David’s words made no sense.

David had no energy left to argue with them, nor to accept Asher’s many attempts at comforting him. He may have sealed his own mates death as a sacrifice to save his pack. Fuck- he felt sick.

————————————————————

OKAY OKAY I know this was out of nowhere and I’m not even fully sure what this is but I adore the concept of Quinn taking angel and David having to battle with deciding whether being reckless and trying to save angel but risking his- and the Keaton pack now as a result- OR JUST PRETTY MUCH LEAVE THEM FOR DEAD. Ugh the angst mmmmmm

@4ngelv4mp @raaanciid @angel-bubbles

[folklorelise]

The cadets are turned into kids and think you and Levi are their parents

In the same universe where they called you “mom”, (they are around 3 and 4 years old)

Also— this is adorable (this is from an eruri doujinshi by hitomi which is called curtain call)

 ------

Eren had an experiment that went wrong. He transformed into his titan form and then suddenly he shrank into a tiny titan. Then he escaped Hange and ran away.

“Someone finds Y/N right now! Eren only listens to her!” Hange yelled at their squad.

When you heard about what happened, Levi looked for Eren with you. When you found him in your office, he was not alone. He was not a titan anymore too. All the cadets were like Eren– tiny little babies.

��MOMMY!” Eren screamed pointing at you.

“Oh no.” you mumbled seeing them all run to you.

They were all hugging your leg, trying to get you attention. Jean started to cry after Eren pushed to the ground. You wanted to pick him up but there were too many kids around you.

“I got this.” Levi assured you and picked Jean up.

Jean stopped crying and stared at the captain frightened. Jean looked at you and reached out his arms towards you. You took Jean in your arms but everyone else started to scream “me too!”.

“Levi,” you said to him, “maybe we should do groups and you take half and I take the other half?”

“No. You can’t leave me alone with them.”

“I can’t work like this.”

“I’m sure Erwin would understand. I’ll tell him.” Levi offered walking away.

“Levi! No! Come back!”

“I told you mommy doesn’t want to stay with us.” Connie cried to Sasha.

“What? Of course, I want to be with you!” you reassured them. “I just don’t know what to do.” you mumbled to yourself.

“I’m hungry.” Jean said, still in your arms.

“Of course, you are.” Eren said, “that’s why you’re so f–“.

“Eren I swear to Erwin’s eyebrows if you finish that sentence, I’m going to throw you in the dungeons!” you snapped angrily.

Jean on the other side started to cry again knowing what Eren wanted to say. Eren started to cry silently too, looking at the ground.

“Sorry mommy.” Eren sobbed, “don’t be mad please.”

“You should apologise to Jean.” you said calmer.

You put Jean down and Eren hugged him and apologised shyly.

“That’s better! Now take each other’s hands and we’ll go found something to eat okay?”

They all nodded, you took Armin’s hand on one hand and Sasha’s on the other one. Eren surprisingly took Jean hand and you all went to the mess hall. Levi was already there with Erwin, with food for the kids.

“We thought that would help.” Erwin explained while the kids run towards the food. “There’s a tray for each one of you, so no need to fight.”

Erwin and Levi walked towards you and sighed.

“What do we do?” Erwin asked.

“I can’t work with them around. I also cannot take care of them alone. There’s eight of them!”

“Armin, Mikasa and Bertolt shouldn’t be a problem – they’re good,” Levi stated, “Jean and Eren would do everything you say. Sasha, Connie and Reiner… tire them until they're too exhausted to move.”

“I still can’t do that alone! You have to help me.”

“I have paperwork to do, and Erwin has commander things to do.”

“I wish I could help,” Erwin intervened, “but I can’t, I still have work to do and…”

“Erwin, it’s fine.” you said gently, “but Levi you cannot leave me alone.”

Erwin left after Levi finally agreed to help. You both sat down at the table.

“Oh no.” Levi sighed once he saw the mess they did while eating. “Stop eating with your hand and use the spoon.”

“Sorry daddy.” Jean apologised but kept eating with his hands.

“What did you call me?” Levi asked.

“Oh, it’s not like he never said it before.” you said.

Levi took Jean on his lap and started to feed him. Reiner, Bertolt and Armin were eating calmy, Sasha ate too fast while Connie was trying to protect his food from Sasha. Mikasa was feeding Eren because he gave his food to you.

“Eren I’m fine, you should eat.” you told him multiple times.

After lunch, they were all too excited and energetic unlike you and Levi.

“I’m too old for sh!t.” Levi told you.

“You kill titan for a living! This should easy.”

“Is it though?”

“Let’s just play with them a little until they get tired so they can sleep.”

The whole afternoon was spent playing hide and seek and tag. Which was not the wisest idea since Armin and Reiner ended hurt. Only a few scratches on their knees and elbows but that made you worried sick. After dinner in Levi office with the kids, they were starting to get tired.

“Mommy,” Mikasa called you by pulling your sleeve, “I want to sleep.”

“Me too!” Reiner said by sitting on your lap.

“A story!” Connie screamed excited which made all of them chant this.

“Alright! Alright! Do we have that kind of book in the library?” you asked Levi.

“No.”

“Well, I can invent a story – that’s not an issue.”

Levi and you sat on the bed and they all crawled on you and between. You started your story and very soon after, they all fell asleep.

“How was your day?” Levi asked you.

“Tiring. What about you?”

“It was fine. And it made me think…,” Levi paused, “never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

“Maybe we could have our own.” Levi shrugged.

“Is it something you want?” you asked.

“Is it something you want? Because if you do not want any, it’s fine too.”

“I don’t know… maybe?”

“We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“You’re right, but I want to talk about this. Someday.” you smiled.

After this little conversation, you both fell asleep. In the middle of the night, Levi woke up because someone was awake – Armin.

“Bathroom.” Armin said once Levi was awake.

Levi stood up and took Armin in his arms and went to the bathroom. After Armin finished, Levi helped him wash his hands and went back to bed. But before Levi could lay on his bed, Reiner woke up with tears in his eyes.

“No, don’t cry.” Levi warned him and took him out of the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nightmare.” Reiner confessed sobbing.

“It’s not real – it’s a dream. Go back to bed.” Levi said before going back to his bedroom, but Reiner stayed behind sobbing. Levi sighed before picking him up. “Stop crying, you don’t want to wake mommy, right?”

“No.”

“Fine then let’s go back to bed, alright?”

That was only the beginning of Levi’s night. After Reiner went back to sleep, it was Sasha’s turn to go to the bathroom.

“I knew it,” Levi said to himself, “I mean after all she ate, that was only a matter of time before she goes number two.”

Then it was Bertolt who had to pee. After him it was Connie who was a little thirsty. Mikasa had to go to the bathroom too. Only Eren did not wake up. When Levi finally went back to bed, Eren woke up.

“Don’t tell me you need to poop too.” Levi warned him tired.

“I want to sleep with mommy please.” Eren asked.

“No place, maybe another time, now sleep.”

—————

-          That one time you had to leave for an expedition

The next expedition was a short and simple one. Yet every squad leader had to be there, including you. You were obviously reluctant about it because of the kids.

“Who will take care of them?” you asked Levi.

“There are nurses. Don’t worry about it.”

The first few days, the kids were all sleeping with Levi and you but then, Levi told them to go and sleep in their bedroom because with them around, you could not do anything else than sleep. You promised to them that you would visit every night before they go to sleep and that night, you told them that you would not be here for a week or so.

“No!” Jean screamed hugging you, “don’t leave me please.” he begged on the verge of crying.

“Mama!” Armin, the youngest cried, rubbing his eyes. “don’t go.”

“I will be back very soon; you won’t even notice my absence.” you told them.

That night you proposed to have them back in bed with Levi and you so they would stop crying. The next morning, once it was time to leave, none of them wanted to let go of your legs.

“It’s fine, I’ll be back very soon.” you tried to calm them down. That did not work. “Fine I won’t go, let’s all go back to bed okay?” you said to them which made them stop crying and run to your bedroom.

Once they all left, you went back on your horse and left with the rest of the survey corps outside the walls. When the kids realised that you were not coming started to cry again and did not stop until they fell asleep. The nurses that took care of them were starting to get worried but after a few days, they started to play and eat again without any protest.

Once you were back, all the kids were waiting for you at the entrance of the wall. They were screaming “mommy!” when they saw you. Jean screamed “daddy!” when he saw Levi which made people around gasp. They did not know that these kids were in reality survey corps members. Sasha and Connie went on Hange’s horse while Armin and Bertolt were on Erwin’s. Jean and Reiner were with Levi while Mikasa and Eren were with you.

“We missed you a lot mommy!” Eren said happy to see you.

“I missed you too.”

For a week or two, the kids would not let go of you because of that expedition.

 —————

-          That one time you got mad at them.

The only time you got mad at them was when they all started to fight each other. Levi and you were doing paperwork outside because it was a sunny day and the kids wanted to play outside. You were peacefully reading your reports when they started to shout at each other. You were not worried about it because they were always shouting, but when you saw that they started to cry and push each other you quickly went over where they were.

“What’s happening here!” you screamed.

They all stopped except for Eren and Jean who were still fighting.

“Hey! Stop!” you yelled but none of them listen to you.

Before you could get mad, Levi took Eren in his arms which stopped the fight.

“What is wrong with you?” Levi reprimanded them. “What were you two thinking? You could’ve got hurt and you could’ve hurt your friends and worse of all, you weren’t listening to Y/N!”

Jean and Eren turned to you but you were already gone.

“Where’s mommy?” Jean asked shyly.

After Jean and Eren both apologised to each other, they went looking for you.

“Is mommy mad?” Eren asked.

“Yes.” Levi answered.

“She doesn’t love us anymore?” Jean asked with tears in his eyes.

“Of course, she does, now let’s find her and apologise.”

They could not find you anywhere. Even Levi did not know where to look. He asked Erwin and Hange but none of them saw you. Jean would not stop crying because you were not there.

“Mommy doesn’t love me anymore!” Jean kept saying.

At night when they all went into their bedroom, they found you on their bed.

“Mommy!” they all screamed happy but stopped on their way when they saw that you were not smiling.

“What happened today was unacceptable. I am disappointed.” you said. “I hope that won’t ever happen ever again.”

“Sorry.” they all apologised.

“Where were you?” Eren asked.

“Out, I needed some time alone.”

“Are you mad at me?” Eren cried.

“No… Not anymore, and I am not mad at you too Jean. But next time you do this, there will be consequences. Now go to sleep, all of you.” You stood up, ready to leave.

“No stories?” Reiner asked.

“Please.” they all asked with a pout that you just could not resist.

 —————

-          That on time Levi had to calm Eren down during a meeting.

That day, you had to leave to visit a family member who was going to give birth. You left without saying anything to the kids otherwise they would not have let you. Levi’s squad was responsible for the kids when none of you were available.

They were all running around when Eren fell from the top of the stairs.

“EREN!” Petra shouted petrified.

Eren started to cry, and he would not stop. The squad tried everything, but nothing would stop Eren’s tears.

“We have to bring him to the captain.” Eld said.

Eld took Eren and went to the meeting room. He knocked on the door and opened it just enough so Eren could go in.

“I want mommy!” Eren continued to cry.

Levi picked him up and put him on his lap.

“She’s busy today, what happened?” Levi asked him softly.

“I fell.” Eren sobbed.

“It’s fine, you can stop crying and tell mommy later that you acted all strong because you’re almost an adult now.”

“I’m a big boy now.” Eren admitted hugging Levi.

All the squad leaders were speechless in front of this because they never saw the captain acting like this before. He was so delicate and sweet towards Eren. Then the door opened again, and all the other kids barged in.

“I’m sorry captain, but they all wanted to check on Eren.” Petra apologised.

“It’s fine.” Levi said before putting Eren down.

The rest of the meeting was spent with the kids playing under the table, around Levi. Once you came back, you found Levi asleep on his bed with the kids around him. You tried to be as silent as possible, but Levi woke up.

“Hey, how was your day?” you asked him not without a kiss.

“Fine, and you?”

“Boring – you weren’t there.”

“Mommy!” Eren called you reaching out his arms.

“What happened to your knees?” you asked him when you picked him up.

“I fell but I didn’t cry.”

“Riight, because you’re so brave.” but Eren had already fell asleep again.

  —————

-          Random HCs

Armin loves the commander; he is always clinging to him.

Eren always wants to impress the captain by eating alone and cleaning.

Jean is your boy; he always wants to stay with you by pretending to be injured or something.

Sasha and Connie love Hange because they get to help Hange with their experiments.

Mikasa only loves you.

—————

HAPPY NEW YEAR!! <3

————— 

—————

PART 2 is out, check out the MASTERLIST!

[youleavethetardisbrakeson]

hiii <33

i dont think this is a prompt but how about when corlys left and returned from the steptones? i always wondered how rhaenys would have reacted when he left and returned :)

Hi @anya-casablanca! Oh, it's definitely a prompt, don't you worry. I'm going to do this one in two parts since I'm a tired 28-year-old lady, but please pat yourself on the back for being the prompt catalyst for me writing for the first time again in OVER SIX YEARS.

Super duper thanks to @evebestt for sharing a single brain cell with me and helping me churn this baby out!

The Stepstones - Chapter 1: Leave-Taking

Rhaenys stirred from sleep, raising a forearm over her tired eyes to block out an offending ray of morning sunshine. She groaned. In the heat of last night’s fervor, the curtains to their chamber windows had not been drawn. Rhaenys rose slowly from bed, not even taking care to wrap her naked form in the dressing gown, which lay crumpled on the floor before her, and crossed to the window. Dawn glinted off the Gullet’s waters, and boats already filled the sea, dozens of which bore the distinct blue sails of the Velaryon fleet. The Lady of Driftmark sighed, her heart sinking at the reminder of what today would bring. 

She drew the curtains and turned her back on them sullenly, her arms hugging her middle in an attempt to steel herself. Her gaze drifted back to the bed where Corlys lay, his eyes now also open, his visage bearing a forlorn smile. Silently, he held his arm out to her in invitation, and she crawled back into bed, wrapping her body around his. 

Corlys stroked her hair tenderly, placing a kiss on her temple. Rhaenys could feel him exhale deeply, the weight of today’s departure clearly also on his mind. 

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered into his chest, her eyes already welling with tears. 

Corlys swallowed hard. “Rhaenys, you know -” 

“I know it must be done, Corlys. I still would not have you leave me.” 

“I do not wish to leave you either. But we will be -”

“Do not make false promises to me,” she snapped, lifting her head to meet his gaze. “The last time you left for war…”

Corlys closed his eyes, trying to banish the memories from sixteen-some-odd years ago. 

The misfired bolt, meant for another man, had struck Prince Aemon in the neck. He bled out, drowning in his own blood. Corlys had insisted on escorting the body home onboard The Sea Snake as Prince Baelon and the two dragons circled above. Upon their arrival home, Lady Jocelyn grew deathly pale, nearly fainting at the sight of the shroud. And Rhaenys - she had scrambled onto the only-just docked ship and fallen to her knees in despair, clutching her pregnant belly as she wailed for her father.   

Tears streamed down Rhaenys’ face. “My heart cannot bear it, Corlys. Not again.”

“I will not let that happen,” he reassured her, wiping tears away tenderly. “We have our fleet, Prince Daemon, and two grown dragons. We are more than a match for the Crabfeeder. I will be back home to you before you know it.” 

Rhaenys shook her head. “Let me go with you, please. Meleys is swift and a third dragon -”

“No, my love.” He stopped her, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “Laenor is a fine dragonrider; you taught him well. He needs this chance to prove himself in battle. But you are needed here, with Laena, and at Driftmark. A Velaryon must stay behind, and you are the only one I would trust the Driftwood Throne to.”

Rhaenys volunteered a small, reluctant nod in recognition. As loathe as she was to admit it, she knew the parts each of them had to play. 

She tightened her fingers around his, clasping them to her chest. “Come back to me,” she whispered, half-wish, half-command. 

“Always,” he answered. “I came back from the ends of the earth for you, and I will again.”