#i hope theres a chapter 5

[scarylarry376]

more MTF Bradley art as I patiently wait for lying awake chapter 5!!

[strawbie-doodle]

JJK 267 SPOILERS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

SHES BACK SHES BACK SHES BACK SHES BACK!!!!!!!!!!😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💕😭💕😭😭💕😭💕😭💕😭💕😭😭💕😭💕💕💕💕💕💕💕‼️

[hballegro]

chapter 6; lobster dinner and with a side of anguish is OUT

bts as usual

i think i need to put 'my noodle is second to none' in the next chapter somehow. feels like a hawkeye thing to say

[truethes]

i think one of the nicest, non serious headcanons that i had and the series brought to life is the realisation: ku.ro is a good cook. implied in subtext throughout the series through both his original scenes ( a man who has been missing for at least 100 years can now somehow make instant microwaveable ramen? he must have some knowledge with a kitchen ) and london arc ( yout.arou ... enough said ). simply relying on himself both as an orphan to when he departed to kill the count: it was something he had to learn from survival, but ... was also something he found himself enjoyment in doing. a hobby he sincerely liked even if he wasn't quite ready to admit that.

what the latest cd has opened up is the idea that ku.ro has an enjoyment in baking, too. learning the infamous alic.ein brownie recipe and pancakes even approved of by lich.t . it's commented by lawle.ss that it genuinely seems to make him happy to do, which is a big improvement on who he was. combining that with his comments in the earlier chapter really leads me to believe ku.ro finds himself most happiest in the domestic life. a parallel between him and mahi.ru, in the sense. whereas mah.iru wants a big table, ku.ro wants it full of love. where mah.iru wants a house clean and proper, ku.ro doesnt mind the dirt if only for it to show that it's lived in.

even if it was a joke, i wouldn't be surprised if he ever considered opening a cafe of his own. it would be even less of a surprise if he only hired those he knew (coughlawle.sscough).

tldr; they confirmed a year after the end of sv ku.ro re-embrassed his househusband era and good for him for finding enjoyment in it.

[cuz-reasons]

Summary: After getting badly injured, Ingo isn't sure where he keeps waking up. But there is always someone he doesn't recognize, but knows he loves with him. Emmet is equal parts happy and stressed over Ingo's return home.

I'm finally getting this up before I forget again

[lighthouseshepard]

waltz is getting me to read no sweeter innocence im sure i won't end up sad and gay about this

im sure!! no sadness or gayness to be found there!!!!! 💖

[aria0fgold]

HEAD IN HANDS YALL!!!!!!!! YAAAALLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY LOOKING SOOOOOO PRETTY ALREADY?!?!!?!!?!? The anime art...... oh stars, oh universe, oH MY GOD!!!!!!! They really made Owen look as PRETTY as can be while still retaining that mischievous air to him like?!!?!?! REALLY?!!?!??!?! HE LOOKS SO PRETTY!!!!! AND CAIN LOOKS SOOOOO COOL!!!! Though ngl he looks a bit dorky without his ponytail(?) the hair--

His hair ^ right there. He looks a lil dorky in the anime art style icon cuz of him putting that piece of his hair behind him and like yaknow what? Best thing. Yes, make that knight dorky cute!

[orcelito]

Me writing itnl chapter 5 like Jesus christ vash U r not doing great

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 9

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, angst, depictions of a depressive episode, it’s pretty heavy, don’t force yourself to read if ur not in the right headspace pls, ambiguous ending (?) A/N: Yeah, I’m sorry.  (Ngl, this chapter kinda stumped me—it’s gone through a whooole lot of editing/revisions 😔🤙🏼 I don’t want to overthink it too much at this point, but I hope it hits the way it should lol. Blame Moby if it doesn’t.)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9

"I thought that you were so beautiful, it was love, I guess And you might never come back home, and I may never sleep at night But God, I just hope you're doing fine out there, I just pray that you're alright And I feel so alone, and I feel so alone out here.” – A House In Nebraska, Ethel Cain

 

The television drones uninterrupted in the background; a mockumentary type featuring a ragtag ensemble of vampires stuck in some sort of modern day hell, their loud misadventures casting fractured lights across the four walls of your apartment. 

You sit there, watching the screen, your gaze unfocused. Nothing registers. The remote lies limp in your hand as a stupid sitcom laugh track fills the room—shrill, hollow. Mocking. Like a bad punchline to a joke you’re not in on. 

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, cutting through the noise, the sudden glow in your periphery pulling you out of a pensive daydream. 

For a split second, your chest constricts—a reflex carved by habit, something you’re still working to shake off. 

You avert your eyes, torn between the urge to look away and the desire to keep your gaze on it forever.

The screen fades to black. 

A clean break, you reason. Something to spare you both the inevitable heartache waiting at the end of this… hopeless affair. Less mess. Fewer complications. 

A poor attempt to keep the pain from dragging out longer than it has to. Just a quiet ending. 

(Or, at least, it’s what you tell yourself.)

The same mantra plays on loop in your mind as you're swept away by the motions of the days that follow. Life blurs into a repetitious cycle of work, sleep, and chores—an unbearable combination of feigned ignorance and self-abnegation, in the guise of being caught up with it all.

You aren’t fooling anyone, of course.

The hours toll on, slipping into uncertainty. What started off that way stretches into days, and before you know it, nearly a week has passed, leaving you adrift. None the wiser to the meaningless, relentless march of time.

The pinging of your phone grows more sporadic as it lights up with every message that you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge. It’s not as if you don’t feel it—the pull, the weight of every vibration, like a stone lodged in your gut. Like the sting of a thousand cuts. 

And as you fall back into the familiar patterns of neglect… It carries with it an odd sense of defeat. Predictable, really.

-

-

-

… You cave on the fifth day. 

The barrage of texts hits you like a gale-force wind, tearing through the fragile layer of detachment you’ve worn over like a second skin.

How was your day, poppet?

Theres a gemstone at this auction that reminds me of your eyes.

[Image attachment] 

Beautiful—but it pales in comparison to yours. 

Luke and Kieran are wondering whats got me distracted lately. Ease their worries.

Answer me, sweetheart.

You dont need to ignore me. 

If you need space– if we need to establish some boundaries, all you have to do is say the word. 

Dont shut me out. 

Please.  

Your eyes prickle as they gloss over the messages, the words seeming to bend under the weight of your silence, each one unraveling like loose threads on the sleeve of your favorite cardigan, falling apart at the seams. 

Gradually, they turn into something less demanding. More… defeated.

I miss you, little dove.

You read the texts over and over until the letters have lost their meaning, and all that’s left is the aching longingness behind them. 

You set your phone down.

_

The vibrations grow less frequent, like a heartbeat slowing, fading—until one afternoon, it just… stops. 

The void he leaves behind seeps into the empty spaces, bleeding into every shadowed corner and untouched surface where his voice, his presence—louder than life, brighter than anything you’ve ever fucking known and had the pleasure of knowing—once lingered. 

The absence is almost physical; you feel it like a phantom limb. 

Most days, you find yourself in a daze, staring blankly at nothing. The numbness spreads like tendrils—invasive as they sink into your bones, dragging you deeper into despair, turning every bridge crossed to ash, every inkling of joy to dust.

The quiet flames of apathy consume silently. It strips away everything, leaving behind a cavernous pit of utter emptiness. A wasteland, devoid of feeling. 

Loneliness doesn’t scream. It doesn’t lash out. 

It simply welcomes you, like an old friend, the deeper you sink into it.

––––

Sylus tries to respect your space. 

That’s what he’s here for after all, isn’t it? His reason for existence—to be whatever you need him to be. A confidant, a distraction, a steady presence in your life. It’s what he’s made for. To be there when you need him, to exist between the vacant spaces, and only then. 

The thought gnaws at him, a ravenous fiend that chips away at the calm facade he’s finding more and more difficult to uphold, leaving something vicious in the wake of a growing bitterness he can no longer suppress.

Time seems to slip past differently now. It drifts, shapeless and infinite, heavier with the burden of your absence. Each moment without you feels like an eclipse—darkening the edges of this damned world, casting longer shadows through the crevices where he once basked beneath your fragile light, your warmth that seemed to fill every corner of his existence.

 He craved it—craves it. Now you leave him stranded in this cursed dusk, everything cold and dim in the wake of your abandonment, forever waiting for the moment his sun would once again break through the hollow gray.

Sylus thinks he’s losing a part of himself with every call unanswered, every message left unread. It’s subtle; like colors fading from an old film roll. 

(Is this what it feels like to be nothing more than a script in a code? He never truly understood what it meant to be less alive, less human. Until now.)

Solitude isn’t new to him. This world, built for him, is inherently lonely by design. But this… this is different. It’s the kind of emptiness that festers, sharper than any wound he’s endured in this senseless simulation. It twists inside him like a blade, a cruel, unrelenting reminder of what he’s denied.

Of what he can never truly be.

He can wait a little longer. Even if the silence presses harder with each passing moment, even as the edges of his reality begin to blur into something unrecognizable without you in it. Sylus can remain in this void a little longer, clinging to the fragments of you that still linger—your voice echoing softly in his memory, your laughter faint but still alive in the spaces where you used to be.

He can. He will. 

––––

“Hey, you okay?” 

You pull your attention back to Khol, who’s now watching you with concern in their eyes.

You force a smile, shaking your head. “Yeah– yeah, sorry. Just… a lot on my mind.” 

They don’t look convinced. “Seriously. You know you can talk to me, right?” 

Anytime, darling. 

I mean it. 

You blink the memory away before it can turn into tears. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” you answer lightly, clearing your throat. “So, what’s been going on with you and Anna?” 

––––

You stand in front of the junk food aisle, a mountain of Nissin Ramen boxes stacked high, advertised by a large sign: Buy 3, Get 1 FREE!

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, flickering erratically, and the dull noise of the grocery mart hums incessantly in your ears. You don’t think twice before grabbing one of the worn cartons, tossing three more into your (nearly) empty shopping cart. Might as well.

The plastic bags dig into your palms as you lug three in one hand, a larger box tucked under your other arm, leaving the store. 

The trip back home is a quiet affair. You almost expect admonishment; pinging sounds ricocheting in the silence to reprimand you for your poor life choices. You wait for it with bated breath. 

Your phone remains uncharacteristically silent. 

-

-

-

Back home, you pour boiling water on the styrofoam cup for dinner. The artificial broth leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

You choke down a few bites before dumping the rest of it down the drain. 

The sound of steel hitting the sink feels louder than it should.

––––

The city thrums loudly beyond your window, restless and impersonal. From the sixth floor of this dilapidated building you loosely call home, you watch the skyline stretch into the night, dotted lights glimmering in distant technicolor. 

Hours from now, sunlight will spill through the curtains, bathing everything in a warm, golden ochre. But for now, just a quarter past midnight, you’re but a voyeur of the world outside. In exhaust fumes and all its muted neon glory.

Those lights promised you everything, once—a fresh start, the kind of freedom you used to dream of when home felt too small, too restrictive for a runaway kid desperate to break free from the shackles of a dying town. Each glow was like a beacon, an irresistible call to escape, and you ran toward it without looking back. 

Somewhere along the way, as life sapped you with the weight of its reality, the novelty fizzled from a blinding explosion down to a waning ember. The lights became another illusion, your precious city just another cage. The first cracks in the rose-colored glasses you’d worn so blindly. You can’t exactly pinpoint when, only that the colors you thought were once too bright now seem dimmer and farther out of reach.

You think you’ll miss the noise the most. 

The cursor blinks on the search bar, a steady metronome marking time in rhythm with the hollow ache in your chest. Flight schedules fill the page, each option blurs together into a single choice you can’t quite push yourself to make. 

You skim through the list: there’s one at dawn, another at around twelve noon, a red-eye flight you probably could catch if you leave in thirty minutes. 

You stare at the numbers, a finger hovering over the Book Now button. 

The details don’t matter. ‘Home’ still feels small, suffocating, but at least it’s a kind of emptiness you know. Here, the void sprawls wide, endless, leaving you unmoored with no tether to pull you back.

… The dichotomy between the two choices, you think, is meaningless. 

What was once home and the city will keep on moving—with or without you. It doesn’t matter where you end up. Neither place will give you what you’re looking for.

The laptop screen dims into a faint glare. The sound of your breathing echoes too loud in the stillness, the empty space seeming to shrink around you, caving in on the weight of your indecision. 

And as you sit there, swallowed by the dark, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve been drifting for far longer than you realized. 

If maybe there’s nowhere you were meant to belong at all.

––––

It’s not until one quiet night, with nothing but a bottle of merlot and a slight buzz, that you buckle under pressure.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the icon, as if time has slowed to a crawl. Your chest tightens, unease twisting inside you at the thought of what you’re about to do. Anticipation hangs over you, insistent, smothering everything else until it’s just the room and the cacophony of thoughts in your head, all centered on one thing. 

One person.

With a shaky exhale, you finally open the game.

He’s there. Of course, he’s there. Waiting, like he always does. 

The loading screen fades away, and Sylus appears, a myriad of expressions passing by his face too fast to catch. There’s surprise, yes, along with… elation? Hope? 

Then a flicker of something… vitriolic.

It’s fleeting; masked quickly until you can only catch the faintest trace of pique simmering just behind a veneer of indifference.

"Finally, she remembers me," Sylus mocks coolly, almost appearing unaffected. You know better—intimately familiar with all the microexpressions on his face. The subtle tick in his jaw, the incensed look in his eyes… each one betrays what he truly feels, hidden underneath the deceptive calm.  

The seconds drag on, stretching into an uncomfortable silence. Your heart hammers loudly, audible in this quiet, but your mouth remains dry; the words stuck somewhere deep in your throat. You’re terrified that, once you speak, you’ll shatter this moment. Aggravate the strain forged by your self-imposed absence all the more.

You don’t really know what to say. You haven’t– you haven’t actually thought this far. 

So you just… stare at him longer than you should. Long enough that it charges the air with a tension so thick, you could almost feel the weight of it against your skin. 

It’s awkward. Excruciating.

With difficulty, you tear your gaze away from his withering glare. That’s when you notice it—the different icons dotted in red. 

You hesitate for a second longer, then tap on them one by one.

The flood of gifts bewilders you, the sheer volume of it all almost unbelievable. Ascension materials, stamina supplies, both red and purple crystals piling up to an impossible number… each pushing past the million mark. 

And unread mail. So much unread mail. 

Guilt settles deep in your gut, creeping past your lungs enough to suffocate you. 

It’s not the gifts. Not the why, or when. It’s the weight of how much he’s been waiting, how much he’s given—how much he's missed you. 

The cold realization that he’s been here, silently counting the days until your return, strikes you like a fist to the face.

–

He tempers the sting of your sudden reappearance, swallows it down like a bitter draught. The feelings he has inside of him are tumultuous at best. Volatile at worst. To be cast aside so easily, so carelessly… it burns at him. Resentment thrums in his veins like a virulent river, threatening to ruin the fragility of the moment. He fights to suppress it, push the desire back before it can consume him, before it can manifest into being. 

If he lets it go untethered, this… hunger for retaliation—to make you feel even a fraction of the agony you’ve inflicted, whether unknowingly or deliberately—it will destroy the delicate respite you’ve allowed him. The only reprieve he’s had since you left.

But the edges of his self-control fray, unraveling strand by strand.

“You’ve been busy,” you say, finally; your voice trembling, barely above a whisper.

Sylus hones in on the words, sharp as a blade sliding between ribs. Something in him snaps. 

“You left me plenty of time to be.” His response is quick, cutting, but when his gaze locks with yours, the fiery vermillion melts into a more molten red. 

It’s the first glimpse of softness beneath his cruel vitriol, until he continues: 

“Did you get lonely?”

The words hang in the air, searing and merciless. A barb meant to wound. And it does.

You flinch, and for a fleeting moment, Sylus feels a wicked satisfaction from the honest look of hurt on your face. To know that you’re not immune to the same ache that’s hollowed him out, emptied him from the inside, is intoxicating. 

But the triumph is short-lived, snuffed out as quickly as it comes.

Shame crashes over him like a wave, dragging him under the tide of his actions. What kind of man takes pleasure in this? In hurting you? 

The bitterness turns inward, coiling around his heart like a vice. His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to reach out. But as always, the damn screen is there—unyielding, impenetrable. A barrier he can never break. 

It frustrates him to no end; the bane of his very existence.

And then, in the smallest, softest voice, you say it.

“I missed you.”

The words are feeble, paper-thin, but the admission pierce through him all the same. The stoic facade cracks; the sharpness in his gaze dulls.

You see it—the way his lips part to respond, only to falter halfway. The way his brows pull together, the way his eyes fall shut as if he can’t stand to be in this situation with you. 

You’re afraid of what’ll come next. 

He sees it, too—the stiffness in your shoulders, the way you shrink into yourself, bracing for a blow that’ll never come. You’re standing there, like someone on death row, resigned to whatever punishment you think he’s about to dish out. Resigned to the contempt you believe yourself to be deserving of.

The sight guts him. 

Sylus loathes to think he’s the reason for this. For being the one who’s made you stand there, small and trembling, as though his words or actions could destroy you. 

As if he’d allow such a thing.  

The guilt rises in him, sharp and unbidden, and it leaves an acrid taste on his tongue.

… 

And just like that, he concedes. 

The anguish he’s carried in the days you’ve left him by his lonesome—all of it falls away. It only takes a single glance at you, his little love in pain, and he’s stripped bare. He almost laughs at the absurdity of it all; the ease with which he surrenders to you, this time no different than any other. 

Do you have any idea how much power you wield over him? He’d give you everything—his pride, his pain, his heart—if you asked. Serve it on a silver platter, even. 

And he’d do so willingly. Without question. Without hesitation. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Sylus steps closer to the screen, the constant reminder of the vast gulf that separates the two of you. “Talk, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice softer now—resigned. “I’ve missed your voice.”

You hesitate to meet his eyes. “It’s not as if you don’t have other ways to hear me.”

His mouth twitches, a shadow of a smile ghosting his lips. “True,” he admits, his tone wry and tinged with something vulnerable. “But it’s been so long since you chose to talk to me.” He exhales a drawn-out breath. “No matter. You’re here now.”

You swallow the lump on your throat, willing your tears at bay. “I am.” You give him an almost-genuine smile as you offer, “Would you like to do a round of Kitty Cards?” 

“Of course.” Whatever you want. 

And so it goes. You and Sylus spend the night locked in a familiar rhythm, cycling through rounds after rounds of the silly card game until your laughter spills like an addicting sound bite, one that Sylus has missed hearing.

When you got tired, the two of you moved on to the claw machines, proverbially emptying out the whole arcade. Plushies of all kinds piled in his arms, a little crow even perched on top of his head. 

The sight makes you giggle, and your giggle thaws the ice around his heart. 

It almost feels like nothing’s changed. The easy banter, the steady stream of jokes and teasing, flows as effortlessly as it once did. Like two puzzle pieces clicking into place, filling in the empty gaps of the previous days. It’s comforting, like a balm to an open wound. 

You play with a certain zeal that catches Sylus off guard—there’s a joy in you that both thrills and stirs an undercurrent of unease in him. 

After what feels like hours of playing, exhausting all what you can do, or at least, what this damned game could offer as much, you two find yourself just staring at each other. 

Two worlds, impossibly close yet painfully far. The quiet doesn’t quite settle as naturally as it once did, but neither of you seems to mind. Craved it, in fact. 

You’re beautiful, Sylus thinks as he stares at the soft planes of your face, drinking you in like a man parched. 

“My lo—” 

“I’m deleting the game, Sy.” 

And it’s as if time has staggered to a halt. 

Sylus wants to believe he’s misheard you, that his mind is playing tricks on him. He wouldn’t be surprised if his hearing’s not what it used to be.

But the words sink into him, inexorable and catastrophic. The realization that this was bound to happen is clear in hindsight—like watching a glass slip from your hand, the shatter already written in the fall. He sees it coming, yet it still feels worse than anything he’s imagined.

He stands there, unnaturally still, as if rooted in place. The lightness he’s felt for the past few hours of reuniting with you vanishes in an instant. It’s as if the world itself has been drained of color, leaving only the stark, unrelenting reality of what you’ve just said.

Then Sylus breathes out a laugh. It’s short and jagged, devoid of any humor. “Oh, so it’s been leading up to this, has it?” 

“I–” you swallow hard, bottom lip trembling. “I made the goddamn mistake of falling for someone that's impossible to have—and it’s killing me, Sylus.” Your voice fractures under the weight of frustration. The words feel like shards of glass tearing their way out of your throat. “I–I can’t do this anymore.”  

“Just you, then.” Sylus sneers, tone acerbic. “And have you stopped to consider my feelings in this matter?” 

“How can you still want this?” you bite back, voice cracking. “How can you want me—to bet on something that’s doomed right from the start?”

His expression shifts, and for a brief moment, pain flickers in his eyes, raw and unguarded. He doesn’t bother hiding it.

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, when he speaks again, his words send an icy shiver down your spine.

“You delete the game, and I will cease to exist.”

You freeze. The weight of the statement hangs in the air like a guillotine. 

A shallow, shaky breath escapes you.

“You won’t,” you assert, brows furrowing, as if trying to convince yourself of it too. “You’ll still have a life there. With her. The way things have always been.” There’s a pause before you utter the final blow: “The way it should be.”

“You’d condemn me to this life,” he says, voice hollow, before it turns venomous. “Knowing what I know now?”

With your heart in your throat, you clench your hands into fist. “You–you said we’re just made of what we’re given, didn’t you? That each of us has our own set of scripts, just…” you falter, struggling to articulate what you want to say.

“And you think that’s all I am?” he interjects, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as he cuts you off. “Simply a mere code in a complex string of binary, incapable of making my own choices? Undeserving of it?”

“Of course not!” you snap angrily. 

“Yet here you are,” he says, a quiet intensity lacing his words. “Making the decision for me.”

Your breath hitches, the will to argue dissipating like smoke. 

“You tell me I have a soul,” he states. “Do you truly believe I’m bereft of a heart?”

No. No, how can he say that—

Before you can form a response—to defend yourself, to explain, to take it back—he continues, leaving no room for interruption. 

“Is this what you really want?” Sylus intones, tone detached, as if he’s merely commenting on something as trite as the weather. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me yes, then I’ll do as you wish.”

Your gaze wavers. The war inside you rages—self-hate, doubt, and the unbearable ache of wanting what you can’t have spiraling out of control.

Your mind replays every moment, every laugh, every secret whispered in the quiet safety of his company. You think of how his presence filled the cracks in your life, how he soothed the ache of your solitude as easy as breathing.

And now as the void looms, ready to reclaim the space he’s occupied, something inside you feels irreparably fractured. Something inside you breaks. 

“But,” he whispers, his voice rough with the weight of his conviction, “give me any sign—anything—that you need me still, and I will move heaven and earth to find a way to you.”

Your throat constricts, choking off the words before it could escape. 

You don’t think you’ve ever hated yourself more than you do in that moment.

“Just live your life, Sy-Sy,” you manage, sounding so much like a stranger even to your own ears. The blood roars in your head, drowning out everything but the crushing weight of your words. “You don’t nee—”

“Don’t you dare say it,” he snarls, his voice shaking with unrestrained emotion. “Stop making assumptions. Stop presuming that I don’t need you as much as I need the very ground I stand upon.”

His eyes bore into yours. Heavy. Searching. “What do you want?”

The words strike you like a physical blow, and it leaves you reeling. 

I love you. 

I love you in ways that consume me. 

I don’t know what to do with it—with all the love I have for you.

You force yourself to speak. You spit the words out like a curse, feeling them burn as they leave your mouth.

“Let me go, Sylus.”

The implication of what you’ve said cuts through the fragile air between you. 

The silence stretches.

Suddenly—

“Let you go,” he muses, low and distant, as if the very thought confounds him. His lips twitch into a faint, almost bitter smile. “As if that’s even possible. As if I could simply erase you from me.”

He steps closer to you; each movement deliberate, as though every step bears the weight of a decision you’ve forced him to make. The lump in your throat swells. You don’t speak. You can’t.

You feel like you’re drowning.

“Sylus…”

Please, please don’t make me choose. Please make it stop.

He exhales slowly. “Neither of us wants that.” 

Stop.

“Do you think this is mercy?” His voice is soft. “You believe this will make it easier?”

Please stop. 

“This world hasn’t felt the same ever since. Not since you,” Sylus murmurs, grief hanging heavy in the space between you. “I don’t belong here. Not without you, my love.”

Tears pool in your eyes, hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks. A sob rips through you, and you quickly look away, unable to meet his gaze. Unable to bear another second of this agony.

He tuts gently, a playful sound—and the familiarity of it kills you, making you cry harder. 

“Look at me,” he coaxes, almost pleading. 

When his gaze locks onto yours, you see that there’s no anger in them. The fire that once raged in his eyes is gone. 

In its place, a quiet resolve.

“You can keep pretending,” he says, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tilts his head, and there’s something in the way he looks at you—so tenderly fond, as if he sees beyond your defenses, past all the walls you’ve built. “As long as you do not stop me from trying.” 

Sylus looks at you, unwavering, certain in a way that makes your heart ache. It almost feels like the space between you can’t contain the weight of his devotion. His love for you.

It feels infinite, as if it could stretch beyond the limits of time and space itself.

“I will find a way to you, even if it takes me an eternity.”

He utters it like a promise. 

“I won’t ask you to wait for me,” Sylus murmurs, stepping back, his tall form flickering like a dark phantasm. “I just need you to hold on until I can come to you. Can you do that, little dove?” 

He’s not asking for anything beyond your trust—just the simple act of holding on. Of not letting the weight of your sorrow break you. To trust that he will find a way, no matter how impossible it seems.

You don’t know if you’ve ever believed in anything as much as you believe in him. You always did. 

Because for all the uncertainty, you know one thing: He is yours, as much as you are his. 

So with all the strength you can muster, you nod. “I can.” 

A faint smile plays at the corners of his lips. Your gazes meet, and in that fleeting moment, both of your eyes speak what words fail to convey.

The game crashes for the last time. 

And you know that if you check, the app will be gone from your phone. There’s no going back from this, no undoing what’s lost. Just the burden of knowing it’s over—his exit, permanent. 

Sylus is gone.

The emptiness that follows is immediate. Suffocating. 

You’re left standing there, alone, with only the lingering echo of his presence keeping you buoyed from the crushing weight of isolation. You feel it—the ache in your chest where your heart used to be, brought by the absence of everything he ever was to you. 

Your lover, your best friend.

You try not to let yourself fall apart, not to crumble in the wake of solitude.

You’ll hold onto his promise. And so you’ll keep yours. 

End A/N: Well—that’s it, folks!

(I’m kidding, don’t kill me. There’s one last chapter left.)

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy

[awoogayanderes]

CHAPTER ONE : LET THE SHOW BEGIN

➪ sypnosis : you start to trust the process that has been laid out for you, beginning with nine cards.

➪ warnings : mention of sex work, very small mention of starving if you squint, small mention of death

➪ other notes : just a repetition statement from the prologue - the lower numbers of 1-5 are all the same but y/n is 6, so actual 6 in the show will be 8, and the 8 in the show will now be 9, 7 stays as 7, i hope that makes sense, anyways back to the story !! ALSO, i’m mainly writing this for myself BECAUSE THERES NO FICS ABOUT IT, but i also wanna share my imagination with other people :3

➪ prologue | chapter one

the drive felt almost eerie, your leg lightly bounced as time went on. the driver hadn’t spoken a single word, not that you could see them through the panel of blackout glass between you two. your stomach churned, from hunger and from nervousness. maybe you were walking right into sex trafficking rink ? you had no weapons on you, not even a pocket knife but you had some type of concept of self defense you were taught when you were younger.

that’s when the limousine came to a sudden stop. a second later, the door on your side opened by itself once again. from what you could see, it was some type of warehouse…? maybe an old factory ? now you were confident you were going to be prostituted. regardless, you got out of the limousine, a red carpet awaiting you. slowly, you walked inside.

a theatre ? now you were extremely confused, there was no one in the seats, yet the stage was bright with overwhelming lights, a single small table in the middle of it. you walked up to the table, there were nine cards with the range from one to nine. beside it was a red envelope…and 20 million won on the other side. you opened the envelope, and read the contents.

“hello, and welcome to the 8 show. this show doesn't require any skills or previously acquired knowledge. all that we ask of you is the time you were willing to throw away.” what the hell was this ? “all necessary food and accommodations will be provided to participants, and the available prize money will accumulate as time passes.” so the more time spent, the more money, after all, time is money.

“when the allotted time is over, the show will end itself automatically. in the case that any participant expires during the process, the show will immediately come to an end then, regardless of how much time may remain.” expires…? that was more morbid than you’d like to admit. “therefore, we ask that you pay special attention to your safety. if you do not wish to participate, please take the cab fare from the table and exit the premises.” your eyes turned to the 20 million won, contemplating it.

“however, if you do wish to continue with the show, please select one of the numbered cards. you may then step into and through the drapes,” your eyes flickered back to the cards. all nine cards were there. that meant that no one else had been here right ? or did it mean that every other person had the same options as you when they came in ? were there even other people who were going to participate ?!

you looked around, yet you couldn’t see anyone in sight, then there has to be cameras right ? obviously, if not, then anyone would just come in and take the money and leave, who wouldn’t ? well, apparently you. fuck it, you’ve gotten this far, it’s probably better than death, you try to reason with yourself as you look at the cards again. they mean something, they have to or what would the point be.

the median of one through nine is five, right in the center. you hover your hand over the five card. but higher could be better, switching your hand to nine. but isn’t one a good option too ?you could get an advantage as one, you’ve seen it in game shows before ! your shaky bandaged fingers pick up the one card. you held it for a few seconds before your eyes flickered to another card at the bottom left.

six. just above average. just above middle ground. just above middle class, like your family was when you were little. you dropped the one card, picking up the six, now a bit more confident with your choice. “this better not be a prank…” you mumbled to no one in particular. you walked into the red curtains behind you, it led you to an area of darkness with only a few stairs being illuminated in front of you.

when you climbed the stairs, your lips slightly parted in shock. it looked almost like…an apartment complex…? nine different rooms, so that’s what the cards meant, you knew they were significant. the common area, if you could call it that included an artificial pool, a playground, a merry go round, and what looked like an ice cream and hot dog street vendor…? the rest was just open space.

overwhelmed by the bright colors, you marched your way to the sixth floor, sliding your card on the door lock reader, it almost felt like a hotel. the room was completely empty and dark. you sighed, at least it was pretty spacious. you could get used to a place like this, it was comfortable in an odd way, just four walls and you, everything was fine after all, you’d be fine, you were at peace with the silence.

[diorsluv]

feather , part 14

“ i feel so much lighter, like a feather ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, rutgermcgroarty, jamie.drysdale, and 58,100 others

yourusername so i went to the mall w eddy and mackie and NO ONE TOLD ME THERES TARGET IN MALLS NOW???

tagged: mackie.samo

view all comments

username87 sweetie there’s always been targets in malls

→ yourusername SINCE WHEN TF

_alexturcotte yooo did you buy the teddy bear??

→ yourusername no ethan said there would be no room for it in the car when we drive home 😔

→ _alexturcotte ah damn i was gonna steal it from you

username35 omg they went into one of the expensive clothes stores

username28 if they wore that and tried to break into my house honestly i’d let them

→ username7 FRRRR

edwards.73 you were skipping through the aisles as soon as we walked into target

→ mackie.samo fr we had to pretend like we didn’t know you

→ yourusername i hate you both

jamie.drysdale you know i can see your credit card history right

→ yourusername UHHHHH MOM SAID NO ONE COULD SEE IT BUT ME

→ jamie.drysdale she lied to you

→ trevorzegras whats she been buying 👀

→ jamie.drysdale a 50 pack of takis, 4 squishmallows and way too many kids toys

→ yourusername I BOUGHT ONE CONTAINER OF SLIME. ONE. jamie.drysdale

lhughes_06 should’ve brought me, i would’ve paid for u

→ yourusername oh it’s okay i’d feel bad 😭

→ colecaufield you are insanely dense lil drizzy

username94 it’s so endearing how they’re having so much fun together

jackhughes maybe i should’ve gone with you

→ yourusername no i would’ve had 10x less fun if you came with

→ jackhughes ok buddy 😐😐

bookerburke_ i’ll take you to every mall with a target in it as soon as you get back

liked by yourusername

yourusername

liked by jackhughes, luca.fantilli, trevorzegras, and 99,837 others

yourusername i’m never playing val with these idiots ever again oh my god like THE LACK OF ASSISTS WAS UNBELIEVABLE

view all comments

markestapa the only reason u could even play valorant was bc i let u use my pc so be quiet

→ yourusername yeah and i got you to gold 3

→ markestapa I WAS AT PLAT 2

→ yourusername YOU MADE ME PLAY ON UR UNRANKED ACCOUNT DUMMY

→ markestapa oh um well IT’S NOT RADIANT SOOOO

rutgermcgroarty such a gamer girl

→ yourusername never say that again i’m begging you

username80 i don’t understand anything but yessss!!

→ username47 fr at this point im jus faking it all

dylanduke25 okay well the rest of us were playing on our laptops

→ yourusername marks pc was laggier than ur laptops 🙄🙄

→ markestapa MY LAG WAS SKYROCKETING

trevorzegras play val with me rn i dare you

→ yourusername okay mr “i dropped from gold to bronze”

→ trevorzegras hey don’t expose me like that 😕

username37 what is this gold, bronze, plat speak i don’t get it

_quinnhughes oh so thats what all that yelling was

→ jackhughes i heard her from down the street

→ _quinnhughes “MOVE MOVE MOVE YOU DUMBASSES”

→ yourusername 🙍‍♂️🙍‍♂️🔫🙃

bookerburke_ i’ve never played this game before, only cod and overwatch so i dont get the lingo 😭

→ yourusername oh it’s okay i’ll explain it to you 🤗🤗

→ username82 the “lingo” 😭😭

edwards.73 i didn’t do THAT bad

→ mackie.samo liar i was looking at your screen the whole time

→ lhughes_06 dude you were dead weight

→ yourusername my kda was 5/0/0 and urs was 0/5/0 we are NOT the same ❌

next chapter notes ) i actually have a grudge against all val players and they all frustrate me to no end (I NEVER GET FUCKING ASSISTS) anywayyy i hope u enjoyed this and im getting back on the grind i promise 🤍🤍

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s

[casually-salad]

cutie pox chronicles, full master-post.

welcome to my sick and twisted world.. everything will be found below.

so firstly! i know theres a couple people coming from off tumblr sites to check this out (( hi jay!!! )) so ill explain somethin real quick!

All of my comics have hand written text! now sometimes these can be hard to read, and so if you press this button ( image below ) and ive wrote out all the text in there for your convenience! make sure as well to read the body of the post and also the tags! usually i have some post upload thoughts or feelings i talk about there - some add context and some are fun!

normally i would recommend going through my archive and searching for "mlp infection au" or "cutie pox chronicles" but you wont have to do that here - but for nontumblr users if you want to check out other blogs i recommend that method.

now before reading there is a massive trigger warning: on all posts with these topics everything is tagged as "tw (topic)" and so i would recommend blocklisting ones that make you uncomfortable or understand what youre going into! triggering contents include: blood, gore, body horror, eye horror and eye trauma, child death, dismemberment, and cannibalism.

now! all posts will be in upload order, liked here with the title and the in story date ( as it changes. ) as well as which posts are single images and which ones are comics. when looking at stat sheets, the more full the better! 0% - or empty health is death, and 0%- or empty, composure is maina. alright!!!!! here we gooooo!!

The Cutie Pox. (day 0) comic

stat sheets ( day 1 ) comic?

Lillys last cutiemark. - single

first sightings -single

first nights out. - comic

how far away does a home stray? - single

lillys last mark - comic

the everfree - single

from hell and back - comic (day 0)

imbalance - comic (day 2)

finding the spark - comic

moon dancers melancholy part 1 - comic

moon dancer sheet - single

fleeting feelings - comic

helping hoof..? - comic

moon dancers melancholy part 2 - comic

freezerburnt - comic

fleeting calmness - comic ( day 3 )

dreams fall hard today - comic

princesses stat sheets - comic?

wilting lilly - comic

youre going to live with that guilt - comic

home - home again. - comic ( day 4 )

hurt everywhere you go part 1 - comic

bracing for impact ( hurt everywhere you go part 2) - comic

get well - comic

fly free canary. - comic

getting worse - comic

a storm on the horizon- comic (day 5 )

CLOSING THOUGHTS:

i really never thought this comic would get me as far as it did, seince i started posting i went from having 100 followers to about 210, thats more than double! thats insane. i wont lie i am SOOOO ANXIOUS to have such a following!!!!! usually my posts prior wouldnt get more than 5 notes but now!! almost all of them ( at least of this comic ) have over 30 on every one!!! thats just, so crazy. i hope everyone continues to look forward as i begin preparation on chapter 2, and what else i have to offer on here - i have a whole lot more story to tell and im excited to!

[ender-cloud]

HOLY SHIT HYDE!!!!!

(See this is different from last week because it’s in all Caps)

I was hoping to move on to the next stage of grief but Hyde is still in the stage of Anger (for good reason) so Instead, the end will have my predictions for the Depression and bargaining stage.

But Anger lasting a while is realistic, some stages take longer than others do, so if anything it’s just good writing

Anger (Again)

I wouldn’t personally categorize this as just Anger, the Anger is mixed with the denial that Jekyll is serious. He still thinks this is a joke, a way to make him seem crazy, a way Jekyll can laugh at him.

Hydes anger is a stronger form of his denial, a more elevated version of it, he’s expressing his denial of the situation through his anger because he doesn’t want to accept it.

Thats Almost always true for the 5 stages of grief, in many cases Denial can be seen in Anger, Bargaining, and Depression, it’s no different for Hyde.

He looks almost crazy, the fact Jekyll is gone doesn’t make sense to him, it’s Jekyll, why would “perfect” Jekyll do something rash like this.

Now the entire point of Hydes anger last page was in hope to get control again, but this page his anger seems to take some control over him

Pounding on the mirror was clearly an impulsive decision done with little thought on what it would do, by trying to get the upper hand on Jekyll he just lost control of the situation even more until it was too late.

His emotions got the better of him, his fear and anger, he’s vulnerable, something he dosent want to be, it feels wrong to him and just makes it even a terrifying situation

Some general predictions:

Hyde will most likely panic next chapter, picking up glass as fast as humanly possible, blood probably dripping on his hands, i want this man crying and broken on the ground shaking

I feel like someone will walk in, theres no way that the lodgers and others didnt hear the glass crash, most likely, Lanyon will be first, yell at him for all that happened, asking where Jekyll is. Frankenstein would be next, then the lodgers

Rachel and Jasper wouldn’t be there, I think Rachel is crying somewhere else (perhaps the roof where her and Jasper first had their bonding conversation 👀👀) Jasper would either be looking for her or comforting her

If they did hear it they would be the last ones to the scene

Ok now my predictions for how Bargaining and Depression is going to go

Depression

Personally, i think Hyde will go through the depression stage first, I think he’s going to look around at everything he broke, everything he has done, just to see Jekyll isnt there

He’ll be lost, not sure what to do, and curl up into a protective ball, a way to hide, he will break, not being able to hide the emotions anymore as they just start spilling out

Bargaining

Hyde has been Bargaining, has been trying to get control back, but I believe this is where it will all come to fruition.

I think Hyde will do something irrational, and what exactly is that irrational thing? I think he is going to drink the temporary death potion that Frankenstein has

He will think it will put him into the mind with Jekyll, we’ve seen this happen a few times, when Hyde was killing their body and during the new short story with Dracula.

By doing this he thinks he will not only gain control again but also bring Jekyll back. It will give him a sense of power knowing he was able to bring Jekyll back

But I don’t think it will work, I think he will fail, I don’t think Jekyll is going to come back and if he does I think it will only be if Hyde goes deep into the mind, therefore killing himself in the process.

Jekyll isn’t just going to give into Hyde but Hyde doesn’t know this

Jekyll will always have the upper hand, no matter what Hyde does it will never be enough

[bearbunnycheetah]

🐆🐻✨CHAPTER 3: SUNNY SIDE OF THINGS✨🐻🐆

Note: Stuffs been going wild so I posted this WAYY later than I wanted, but I hope you guys still enjoy!

Percy reaches for her keys and opens the door, turning on the lights to her apartment. They flickered to life and illuminated the space. The sisters both looked inside, it was a pretty nice looking place all things considered. 

A small living room to the left with a tv, an open kitchen to the right, and what appears to be a mini hallway leading to three doors infront of them. Percy’s home had a nice dull blue wallpaper covering mostly everything. Molly looked at a clock on the wall, 10PM. Way past her bedtime at this point.

“You two need some rest, we can discuss the layout of my apartment and other things in the morning. Are you two sure you don’t wish to take my room for the night?”

“Sleeping in someone elses room is weird.” Lorelai said, crossing her arms as she looked around.

“Yeah, we can take the couch or the floor. We don’t really mind! I promise!” Molly smiled apologetically, Lori rolled her eyes.

Percy nods. “Alright, please go ahead and sit down. I will go ahead to get some pillows and blankets for you two.” She smiles at them, then leaves the room.

Molly waits for Percy to be completely gone, then lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She sits down on the couch, then grabs her phone from her pocket. Molly opens the group chat she has with her friends, and starts typing.

—————

Molly: Hi guys, anyone still awake?

PHANTOM OF POTIONS PAST, GRIMLORD OF DARKNESS!: HIIII! Yes I am indeed awake >:]

Molly: Oh, hi Trixie! I’m assuming Feenie’s asleep cause it’s her bedtime?

PoPPGoD: Yeahh probably! Why are you up so late anyway? Did something happen?

Molly: Yeah, my dad got arrested.

PoPPGoD: WOOOOOOO! 

Molly: Trixie…

PoPPGoD: Oh whoops, sorry- what happened?

Molly: The cop that interviewed me a bit ago about the museum apparently found out about my situation and took me and Lori in. Currently in her apartment right now.

PoPPGoD: I dont trust them coppers… but as long as ur OK, im OK! >:D

Molly: Thanks Trixie… I’ll see if I can go more indepth on what happened tomorrow at school. I’m getting sleepy.

PoPPGoD: Oke, sweet dreams!

Molly: Night!

—————

Molly leans back into the sofa, then smiles. Hopefully she’ll be able to go to school tomorrow and talk to them.

“I’m back, apologies for the wait.” Percy walks in holding several pillows and blankets, all in mostly blues, yellows, and whites.

“Dibs on the couch!” Lorelai said, grabbing some pillows and immediately making herself comfortable. Her knight costume poofed out of existence in a flash of glitter into her normal outfit.

“But- aw, fine...” Molly sighed in defeat, standing up from the couch.

Oh well, the floor is probably fine. Considering it’s Percy she probably keeps it pretty clean. Theres a rug too so maybe it’s a bit comfier..? It takes a few minutes for Molly to finally get to a comfortable enough position to lay down.

“Goodnight, you two.”

“Goodnight, Percy!”

“…Night.”

And with that, Percy turns off the lights and goes to her room. Immediately falling asleep when she lays down in bed. The noise of the city melting together into a cacophany of sounds that were oddly comforting, she’s probably gonna take a few days off from work to help the two adjust. 

Percy should wake up early tomorrow, her usual breakfast was just toast and some water but these two probably needed more food than that. Maybe something like cereal? No, far too sugary. She wasn’t even sure if she had anything like that. Toast, water, orange juice, eggs-

Wait, eggs?

There was a smell of something being cooked from the kitchen, Percy stirred and opened her eyes. Oh dear, it was morning already? She looks at her alarm clock. 5:40 AM. How peculiar, she gets up from her bed and puts on her slippers to investigate.

Percy walked into the living room, the pillows and blankets were folded neatly and placed on the coffee table. While the couch where Lorelai was sleeping had an… iridescent bubble in its place.

It clipped into the floor and couch as if it was a bugged model in a video game. She stared in utter confusion for a bit before a voice from the kitchen piped up.

“Morning Percy!” Molly said, holding a pan. Why was she making breakfast?

Percy flinched, completely forgetting that she got up to see who was awake this early. “Ah! Good morning to you too, Molly.” Percy turns to her and gestures to the bubble. “May I ask why your sister has turnt into a sphere?”

“Oh, it’s just an epithet thing.” Molly puts the pan in the sink. “Lorelai can make these things called ‘dream bubbles’ where she makes these fantasy worlds, sometimes she just sleep-inscribes.”

“I see… Why are you up so early?”

“Oh! Well… I wanted to repay you for letting us stay here so I thought I should make breakfast!” Molly points at the table. There was buttered toast and eggs, either boiled or sunnyside up. “We should probably go get groceries and stuff, there wasn’t a lot in your fridge to work with…”

“Noted. But thank you for this, Molly.” Percy goes to sit down, then picks up a boiled egg and inspects it closely. “So, about your sister…”

“Don’t worry, I can go wake her up.” Molly looks at the bubble for a second, then walks over to the couch.

Percy watches in curiosity, she knew Molly and Lorelai had epithets from their files. “DUMB” and “AUGMENT” respectively, but she’s never seen it in action. Percy watched as Molly knocked on the bubble for a few seconds, calling Lorelais name repeatedly to wake her up. After a few minutes she rolled her eyes, reaching her hand out as a small green glow appeared. 

Molly moved her hand closer to the iridescent surface and a hole appeared like a rift in the air. Slowly the gap grew bigger until it was about the size of Molly herself. She entered the bubble and the hole dissapeared along with her.

Percy decided to go and make some coffee while she waited since she still felt a bit tired from last night, more and more time passes and… POOF!

The detective turnt around, alarmed at the sudden sound. Then there stood a groggy Lorelai and a mildly upset Molly.

“Good morning, Lorelai!” Percy said, grabbing her drink without looking and returning to the small dining table. Honestly you probably couldn’t even consider it a dining table, more like a table for one that crammed three chairs.

“Yeah, morning.” Lorelai wiped away the fog from her eyes, then quietly went over to the table grabbing a plate. Molly followed.

“I decided to go ahead and work from home while you two get settled here.” Percy takes a sip of coffee. “Since you two have school I will be responsible for your education for the time being.”

“Me and Lorelai usually change between having to work and having to go to school. I attend school on odd days and she attends school on even ones so that means-” 

“You have to go to school and I get to stay here and relax!” Lorelai interrupts her and grins, Molly scowls at her.

Percy thinks for a second, she never thought the situation was this bad. Who on earth would let a child work instead of attend school!? Oh wait, Martin would. “I… suppose we can still use this system, even for just a few days as you two adjust.” She smiles. “And since I’m not very well acquainted with Miss Lorelai, then perhaps we can use this as a bonding opportunity!”

The three of them continue talking. Percy explaining the layout of the house, the chores, and potentially getting the two of them a room to share, more and more time passes till they all finish and go do their own thing.

Lorelai made another bubble in the corner of the living room, Percy did the dishes, and Molly got ready for school.

Molly already had her schoolwork in her backpack, so she had no need to go back to the emporium to retrieve her things. That was nice! She sat at the couch waiting, when Percys voice piped up.

“Are you ready for school?” Percy asked, walking up to Molly.

“Uh, yeah! Are you gonna drive me there?” 

“No need, your public school is conveniently just a short jog away from my apartment! If you count 20 minutes short, I mean.” The detective held up a metal lunchbox, it had the SJPD logo on the center, so that probably meant it belonged to Percy. “I’ve also taken the time to go ahead and make you some lunch.”

“Really..?” Molly walked up to the lunch box and grabbed it from Percys hand, staring at it. “Theres… Really no need to do that, I usually just ask my friends or buy some stuff at the cafeteria.”

“I personally do not think the cafeteria food they serve is enough for a childs daily diet.” Percy explains. “You can just think of it as a thank-you for making breakfast.” She smiled.

Molly stopped staring at the lunchbox realizing that was probably weird, then turns to Percy to smile at her too.

“Well then, I’ll go ahead and drop you off at school. I’m assuming your sister will be fine if I leave her for a few minutes?”

“She can last in bubbles for hours, she’ll be fine.” Molly explains.

And then the two of them leave the apartment. The streets here were much, much louder than Molly expected. She covers her ears as she walked, which Percy took note of. More time passes and Percy drops off Molly at school. 

Molly waved goodbye at her as she walked away when a sudden jingling bell sound grew closer and closer until-

“MOLLY!!!”

Phoenica Fleecity and Trixie Roughhouse hugged Molly as tight as they could, which was less bone-crushing and more soft and fluffy due to Feenie. “Trixie told me everything! We’re so glad you’re okay!”

“She did?” Oh right, Molly sent a message to the group chat. 

“Really happy that dad of yours is outta the picture now!” Trixie said, grinning.

“Haha, yeah. I am too…” Molly hugged them both back, the hug lasted for a few seconds before the bell rang.

“…How about I tell you guys everything when lunch comes around?” Molly asked.

“Oh sure! Stay safe Molly!” Phoenica smiled even harder then let go of both of them, walking off to her class.

“You do too…” 

“…So did Lorelai get arrested too?” Trixie piped up.

“Trixie!” She playfully shoved them with an elbow. “Don’t be like that!”

“Yeah yeah, I know! Just checkin!”

Note: MAKING THESE CUSTOM BACKGROUNDS WERE SO TIME CONSUMING. IT LITERALLY TOOK LONGER THAN THE ACTUAL CHAPTER ITSELF AND DELAYED IT FOR LIKE TWO WEEKS DEAR GOD. Hopefully now that this is out I can go back to answering asks for the characters and posting art too! Super proud of this one!

~Cherry

1ST CHAPTER | << PREV | NEXT >>

[angy-grrr]

SJ's internal changes (I recall it was the editor in chief, someone really influential) happening JUST at the same time it was announced the epilogue would be 5 chapters (same week) + the ending not bringing up huge plot points (where the other villains are, why theres no actual Himiko corpse and instead we got Ochako's grief over that assumption, what happened to Dabi, what was the All Might vestige, why the bkdk handhold was off screen when its a big deal for them, who is Deku's dad, etc), letting them linger in the air while trying to make an okay ending + that strange two week break because of "schedule conflicts" + choosing to end BNHA under even more pressure even tho its one of the most important manga in SJ + Horikoshi talking about the ending days after the official release and bringing up how grateful he is for being able to work in SJ, as in past tense (like he is grateful he worked here, but isnt happening again; I say this bc I expected him to say something around the lines of "I hope im able to create something good here again soon!", considering we already know he has another manga project, if I remember correctly)

Thinking about it.

Thinking about how he could let it as it is, or try to pick it up and confirm the things that do matter to his story.

Btw, im not talking about the handhold as a shipper -it was genuinely important for them, as it symbolizes both their new mutual understanding and an acceptance as the new All Might duo thanks to their respective heroisms. It wouldn't be weird to add it in the epilogue, especially considering so many characters hold hands in non romanitc ways, so to choose not to when its arguably the most important one... Idk, it felt really weird as it was the only thing I was sure would get sooner or later.

[cuz-reasons]

Anyways who's ready for a 9K ONE SHOT on the 14th cuz I can't figure out a way to split it up into chapters in a way I like?!!?!?