#taking a WILD shot in the dark here of course

[deltastorm101]

i JUST realized something else.

from this recording we know that scratch does have a copy of alan’s wedding ring, but he doesn’t wear it, he just carries it in his pocket.

and in the new trailer we can see alan’s actual ring prominently displayed on his left hand.

i'm calling it now. in this game called "which version of 'alan' is this person we see on screen right now" that we will without a doubt have to play very soon, the ring is gonna be a dead giveaway.

[occidentalavian]

Full map of Exandria, 2024 update!

Map images and Wonderdraft file download [HERE]

Hi everyone! It's been about 4 years since my last map. In that time more of Exandria has revealed itself to us, and while it is still not a complete picture, we now have enough that I felt it was time to make an update.

The biggest change from my previous map is that I am no longer using the Elven Tower Cartography assets. This is because previously I installed them incorrectly, in a way that meant that people who downloaded the map file were unable to see the assets unless they installed it in the same weird way that I did. Rather than fixing this, I instead opted to use the default Wonderdraft assets, that way it can be viewed out of the box without having to download something else first!

As before, Tal'Dorei and Wildemount are the most accurate to official maps, and we also have an official map of at least one arrangement of the Shattered Teeth, which is re-created here. We have a portion of Marquet via the Oderan Wilds and Hellcatch Valley maps, but the rest, including all of Issylra is still mostly made up, based loosely on a very old and tiny map briefly shown on screen by Sam in episode 103 of Campaign 1! Naturally when any new maps come out, this map will (eventually) be updated to reflect them.

There are some locations that are new to this map as well, such as the Demithore Valley in Issylra from Campaign 3 and all the towns visited in The Re-Slayer's Take up to episode 10, these being Himblewood, Josgren's Hollow, Shoresight Isle, and the Hug Hive. Ta'Dorei has a few new towns, Mooren and Heldenfaire, which were mentioned in Tal'Dorei Campaign Setting Reborn, as well as a few unnamed village clusters, the Foramere and Vues'dal villages. For these and the Mornset Countryside I included some non-canonical paths connecting them to the main roadways. Also included in Mornset is Roch Mar, the village that Vox Moronica visited all the way back in Episode 12 of Campaign 1, before Critical Role even did separate numbering for one-shots and thus included this unrelated episode in the campaign. This town isn't officially confirmed to actually exist in Exandria, so consider it my headcanon and a paper town. Moving on to Wildemount, Vo Village got upgraded to proper town status, and I've also included Yardel from The Nine Eyes of Lucien, Ghostwall from The Tales of Exandria: The Bright Queen, and Galgarad from the Dark Star adventure on DnDBeyond!

I want to give a special thanks to Don Farland for his original fan map of Exandria, created all the way before the release of Explorer's Guide to Wildemount, upon which I originally based my map of the Shattered Teeth. Incidentally, I believe that this depiction of those islands was the basis upon which the official map by Andy Law is based upon. I would also like to thank Niko Vanhala for his fan-made maps of Marquet and Issylra, upon which I have loosely based my maps of those continents. And of course thank you to Andy Law and Deven Rue for the official cartography of Exandria!

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 3

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

The shadows unceremoniously dumped a whole stack of Sellyn Drake Novels on Azriel’s desk.

Azriel eyed the stack of novels dubiously, wondering how in the Mother's blessed name the Shadows had gotten their hands on these. Or why.

But they stayed silent, clearly waiting for him to outright demand an answer. *Why?* he asked with a long suffering sigh. *What's this about?*

No response.

Azriel reached for one of the books, pulling it off the top of the stack and flipping it over. And immediately he regretted that decision. The cover was…certainly something.

A shirtless man holding a rather skimpily dressed woman up against a wall. 

Azriel let out a long, long sigh.

*You need to read the books, Master,* the shadows told him seriously.

Azriel stared at his shadows, then at the books, then at his shadows. *You cannot possibly be serious.* What exactly was this supposed to give him? 

He flipped it over, reading the synopsis. 

When Lady Eleanor is forced into an unwanted marriage, she despairs—until the enigmatic Sir Tristan, a battle-scarred knight with a fearsome reputation, crashes into her life. Bound by a promise to protect her, Tristan whisks Eleanor away from her gilded prison, thrusting them into a wild escape across enemy lands.

Haunted by his past and wary of love, Tristan tries to keep Eleanor at arm's length. But as they face danger together, a fierce passion grows between them, tempting them to trust in a love that could heal even the deepest wounds.

What the fuck. 

*We are, Master.* The Shadows told him, sounding as earnest as they possibly could.

He opened the book. Titled The Dark Knight’s Desire, flicking through the pages. Was this…a first edition?

*It’s important!* The shadows insisted. *You know…to brush up on these flirting skills of yours.*

Azriel shot the shadows an unamused look. *I can flirt perfectly well,* he protested.

*You most certainly cannot.* The Shadows deadpanned. *It’s research! Read them for her!*

*Read them for…* Azriel started, his voice trailing off.

*You found...* he trailed off weakly. They had found a female for him?

The shadows swirled around him almost playfully. *Of course we did,* they said innocently. *We told you we would, didn’t we?*

They were working quickly. It had only been weeks since he had agreed to let them find him a wife.

*You did,* Azriel said slowly, but his mind was working fast, so fast, trying to wrap around the idea that his Shadows were trying to help him find a wife…and more importantly, that they had found a female they thought he would find suitable.

*Where did you find her?* he asked, carefully.

*Here in Velaris!* the shadows answered brightly.

*Here?* Azriel asked, his surprise obvious. The shadows had found...a female...here in Velaris? Someone who was compatible with him? And they wanted him to read...what were these again? Sellyn Drake novels? So he would know how to best romance this female?

*Read the books, Master,* the shadows said with a sigh. So he did.

And that was how Azriel spent his next few hours. Reading a book, and blushing like some sort of adolescent boy when certain…particularly intimate scenes came around. The Shadows cackled beside him the entire time.

How the fuck did Nesta do this with a straight face?!?

Azriel had no idea, but by the Mother, he was never going to ask her. Ever. He would just die of embarrassment.

Though he needed to admit...he actually quite liked it.

The novels, that is. The…intimate scenes. Azriel liked them. A lot. Not even the...smut, like Nesta called it...no, he liked the love story. He liked the two people that came together and would do everything for each other...the falling in love part. He liked that.

But the Shadows were probably never going to let him live this down. Azriel did find comfort in a single thought, though. Whoever this possible future partner was, she was never going to know about this. There was no way in hell he would let her find out that he read smutty books to brush up his flirting skills.

But even that did not stop the nagging thought in Azriel's head, one that made him hesitate, and doubt himself, and doubt the Shadows' judgment. "What if..." he said softly, hesitantly. "What if she just...doesn't like me?"

He knew he had some...rough edges, to put it kindly. And he had his own...troubles. His own...insecurities. Some of the things he kept to himself, so many of his...issues. The shadows knew of them all, of course…There were many nights they stayed up with him, soothing him when the ghosts in his mind became a little too loud, a little too real.

What if that scared her? He didn't want her to be scared. He didn't want to scare her.

*She'll like you, Master.* The Shadows assured him, wrapping themselves around him comfortingly and soothingly. *She’ll love you.*

He exhaled. *Can you read minds now?*

*Only yours,* the Shadows assured him. *But as long as you don't cheat on her with her sister, you'll be doing a better job than her ex-partners!*

What. 

"Are you seriously reading a Sellyn Drake novel?" Only 5 centuries of training kept him from flinching as he looked up to find Cassian in his doorway.

"Nesta said it was good," he shot back flatly, not hiding the book, because that would just give Cassian even more reason to tease him. 

"You...actually listen to Nesta's...book recommendations?" Cassian stared at him, as if he had grown a third head.

"She is intelligent, and she reads more than either of us," Azriel shot back, sharply. "So yes, if she says it's good, I'll try it."

Cassian gave a slight shake of his head, not believing what he was hearing. "You are…actually reading a Sellyn Drake novel?" He repeated as if he couldn't quite believe that Azriel was actually doing that.

"Yes," Azriel said, his words clipped. "You have a problem with that?"

Cassian just stared at him for a long moment before letting out a quiet laugh. "No, I just never thought I would actually see the day that you read a Sellyn Drake novel."

"Well, I like it," Azriel said evenly. "It’s very are well written."

"And smutty," Cassian said with a grin.

Azriel rolled his eyes. "It’s are more than just...smut, Cassian, It actually has a story, and good characters."

"Characters who can barely keep their hands off each other long enough to solve the mystery, you mean," Cassian drawled, but Azriel ignored him, flipping a page. 

."Have you ever actually read a Sellyn Drake novel, Cassian?" Azriel asked, shooting him a look. "Or do you simply judge by the covers?"

Cassian just grinned, clearly enjoying this conversation and how defensive Azriel had become. "The covers are pretty damn attractive though."

Azriel rolled his eyes at that comment, but didn't respond. Just looked back down at the book, completely ignoring his brother.

"Are you coming to dinner tonight?" Cassian asked him instead. 

"No," he answered flatly. He did really want to know how the book ended.

*We found a house! We can show it to you!* the shadows hissed at that moment. Huh.

"There is something that needs my attention," Azriel said simply.

Cassian gave him a searching look, a frown etched into his face, but Azriel simple met his gaze. 

"Az," Cassian said quietly. "Come on."

"I have something I need to do, Cassian." Azriel's voice was still flat, but more firm, a clear sign that he did not want any arguments.

"Az," Cassian said again, and this time, there was a small thread of pleading in his voice. "Just… come have dinner with us. Please. It'll be good for you."

Good? Good to sit at Rhys' table and be told to "behave"? Azriel would rather eat crushed glass than do that. Which was the reasons why he skipped out of them as often as he possible could.

He knew, he knew that Cassian was just looking out for him, but that didn't mean that he felt like he was obligated to go.

"I have something I need to do," he repeated, his voice even.

Cassian sighed. "You are so goddamn stubborn," he muttered, but he let the subject drop, clearly knowing that Azriel was not going to listen.

That evening, instead of sitting through that dinner, Azriel let the shadows swirl around him in excitement, tugging on his jacket, practically dragging him forward.

*It's a lovely house, Master!* they said as they wrapped him in their embrace.

He blinked twice as he rematerialised in front of a lake. Somehow not quite what he had expected. But then…then he saw the house.

Grey stone and wood and the biggest windows he had ever seen that promised an breathtaking view over the lake… and nobody around as far as he could see. He stared at the house, a brow raised. It was nice…very nice. A little too nice. Exactly too his taste.

Azriel turned towards the shadows as he raised another brow. *And how exactly did you…* he started with a huff. *You know what, nevermind.*

He could already hear the shadows saying that they asked for a favor in exchange. Or maybe they stole it.

The house was still nice though, perfect really. He just…didn't want to know what they had done to get it.

Azriel glanced towards the building again. He could almost picture himself in the space, walking around, just….simply existing. It was peaceful and quiet…and he would not be…disturbed or bothered.

He could see himself reading in front of the fireplace, looking out into the night sky through the large windows. 

Azriel walked towards the building, his fingers brushing over the wall. He could feel it already….he could already feel his muscles loosening, his shoulders lowering from their stiff position.

Home, he thought as stepped into the space, the shadows following after him as his lips tugged upwards.

Yes, he could already see himself calling it that. Home. He liked the ring of it. 

*You're welcome, Master,* the shadows said as they swirled around him, nuzzling him affectionately. They were happy for him, so very happy for him.

The living room was spacious, filled with  overstuffed couches and armchairs made for wings… the view indeed was spectacular. And one long uninterrupted wall was lined with tall, massive bookshelves.

It was perfect.

*Does she like books?* he couldn't help but ask.

*Yes, Master! She loves books!* The Shadows assured him in an excited chorus.

She liked to read. That was the first little tidbit of information he learned about her.

*Will you tell me something else about her?* he asked them softly, as he kept exploring the house.

*What do you want to know?* the shadows asked.

*Did her ex-partner really cheat on her with her sister?* he wondered aloud.

*Yes. They are engaged to be married now,* the shadows answered. *He's an asshole,* they muttered darkly.

Azriel couldn't help but give a nod in agreement. An ass was too kind. Whoever he was, he was more than that. Azriel hated him, whoever he was.

*Anything else?* he asked the shadows, curious, so damn curious, to know more about the female.

*She has a cat. His name is Hector. He may be the ugliest cat in existence,* the shadows said primly, *but she adores him.*

Not what he expected, but it was...sweet. It was kind. She had a pet cat. His lips tugged upwards into an involuntary smile.

*And...?* he trailed off, waiting for a response. He was greedy, so damn greedy for more, so greedy to get to know the female more. His curiosity about her had grown to a fever pitch, it seemed.

The Shadows hummed thoughtfully. *She is very, very kind, Master,* they finally said softly.

Those words caused Azriel's smile to go soft, so damn soft. His heart fluttered at the Shadows' words. She was kind. She was kind and she had a cat that she adored. Her ex was an ass who cheated on her. She read, liked books, which meant she was intelligent, and…

Was he getting excited about someone he had never even met?

*When...when can I meet her?* he asked softly.

*Soon,* the shadows promised. *She doesn't leave the house that often...*

Azriel's brows drew together at that. *Why not?* he asked quietly, not sure if he really wanted the answer to that question.

The Shadows hesitated for a moment before responding. *People...people aren't very nice to her,* they admitted slowly.

Azriel blinked, confused. People...weren't nice to her...? But…why? What was there not to be nice about? From what he had gleaned, she was kind, had a cat, was smart, and liked books. What was wrong with any of that? It didn't make any sense.

*Why?* he demanded shaprly.*Because people are idiots as usual,* the shadows snapped right back. *People aren't nice to you either.*

Azriel gave a small wince at that, the shadows words hitting him like a bucket of ice cold water. But they were right, people weren't all the nicest to him, either.

Still...he didn't like the idea of her being treated poorly. He wanted...Gods, the want was so strong, all of a sudden. The want to…to protect her. To guard her, and protect her. To keep her safe. To make sure she was alright.

*Tell me when she leaves her house,* he demanded.

For a moment he could swear the shadows were nearly frozen in place.

*Change of Plans. Put on a different shirt,* the shadows said quickly. Azriel just stared at them.

*A different shirt?* he asked. He didn't even have any clothing here! That was back at the House of Wind. But the shadows were clearly not taking no for an answer.

He batted away a tendril as it started to unbuckle his fighting leathers and did it himself, only for them to shove him into a shirt that was so dark green it was nearly black and then start fussing with his hair.

Azriel barely had time to even process what was happening before the shadows were pushing him towards the door, still trying to fix and smooth his hair and clothes as they moved forward.

*What is the change of plan?* he asked them

*You are getting to see her right now,* the shadows said with a hint of glee to their voice. *Her sister and some friends are taking her to a bar.*

*The same sister that cheated on her with her ex-partner?* he demanded.

*Yes,* the shadows agreed in a hiss. 

Great. So he was going to have to stop a fight from happening, all while trying to meet the female he apparently was connected to? That was a...recipe for disaster right there..

*She'll be at the Crystal Drop* the shadows informed him, and his heart gave a strange little clench at those words. He was...he was actually going to get to meet her. Tonight.

The feeling of excitement was back, rushing through him like a wildfire. But there was also a hint of trepidation, a hint of nervousness. What if he screwed it all up? What if he messed things up? His stomach was suddenly full of butterflies.

Azriel didn't have time to dwell on those thoughts, though, as the shadows gave him a little nudge forward again, all but forcing him to start moving towards the tavern.

He could see it in the distance, the sign proclaiming it as “Crystal Drop”. It...it was right there. She was there... 

Taking a deep breath, he headed towards the bar, his heart pounding in his chest with every step that he took closer to the entrance. Gods, his hands were shaking. 

He was nervous. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was

He entered the tavern, and his eyes automatically went to the crowd, searching for...something.

The shadows let him towards a place in a corner where he could view the whole bar and he ordered a single fireale, because he was not getting drunk. He wanted his wits about him when he met her. 

But right now…right now, Azriel settled in to watch.

He watched the crowd, his eyes roving around, searching the whole tavern once again. He just wanted to know where the group was. He wanted to know where...she was.

*Do you see her, Master?* the shadows asked him, nearly teasingly.

*I have absolutely no clue how she looks, so how should I?* he gave back in a growl. The door opened and he watched as a group of females poured in...and then right there at the edges of that group...

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on her, and...oh.

Between one blink and the next everything changed. A golden bond unfurled in his chest, connecting him to her.

Her.

He knew it.

She was his mate.

Mine. He whispered in his head, barely more than a thought. He knew it with every fiber of his being, every part of his heart.

He took her in hungrily. 

She was so beautiful. So, so beautiful. Azriel had to physically restrain himself from going over to her right then and there. 

He could hardly breathe. He couldn't form a coherent thought. His whole world had suddenly narrowed to the sight in front of her. His mate.

*Master?* There was alarm in the shadows voices as his breathing became near erratic.

*She's...You found my mate,* he said weakly.

The shadows hummed in confirmation and his eyes were glued to her still, drinking her in. She had long brown hair with soft curls, falling over back, bangs framing a rounded face with high cheekbones and plump cheeks...full rosy lips too and adorable freckles dotting over her nose...

She was the most beautiful being he had ever seen.  She was simply...stunning. 

And mine, he thought to himself. She was his. She was his mate.

He didn't even look at the rest of the group. Just focused on the one...the one who was at the edge of the group, seemingly trying to vanish, to become invisible. 

Even from the distance, Azriel could see the tension in his mate’s form. He frowned slightly at that. He didn't like it, seeing her like that.

He...his instincts were starting to kick in, a soft, protective urge rising up in him. He wanted to go to her, to...to stand by her side and ease away whatever was bothering her. But he stayed rooted to the spot, just...just watching her. Just watching his mate, the sight of her soothing every single little part of him until he felt warm all over.

He let the group settle at a table a few feet away from him, forcing himself to look down on the bottle in front of him and not stare at his mate like a total creep.

If he strained his ears, he could hear the whole conversation. Apparently it was his mate’s sisters Hen Party, the kind of celebration that some High Fae Females had before they got married.

Nice. Why not bring along your sister, when you were engaged to the guy that cheated with you on said sister?

The fact that his mate even came along into this bar that evening was probably a sign of how fucking nice she was. And Gods...no wonder his mate was so anxious...this whole thing was just...a disaster waiting to happen.

He glanced towards the group again, his attention once again immediately falling on his mate. He could see it, the small twitch of her fingers, the tightening of her lips...the small little things, and he felt his heart wrench at the sight.

She didn't talk. She was just sitting there silently, while the other females had a raucous conversation, that she wasn't part of. It made him bristle.

He didn't understand why they were doing that, why she wasn't a part of the conversation. She was right there. But they weren't listening, they weren't noticing her...or maybe they were ignoring her on purpose.

He...he didn't like it. He didn’t like it at all.  

Just minutes later, Azriel realised that he should have wished that they kept ignoring her.

Because Azriel was quite certain that he was going to slit his mate's sister's throat with Truthteller if she said one more word. 

The blonde, her sister, stared at his mate and this time a sharp, nasty smile curled on her lips. "Oh, what's the matter, little sister? Mad that I nabbed the male you were going to marry?" she taunted with a malicious grin. "I guess he just liked me better."

Azriel was so shocked that he could just sit there, staring. 

The other females laughed as the blonde continued, her lips curled in a sneer. "You should be happy for me, really," she said, her voice sugary sweet. "After all, you could never keep him happy. You've always been useless, haven't you?"

The comments made Azriel see red. What the hell was wrong with this female? Who treated their own sister like this? 

He had half a mind to go over there and wring her neck. 

*Don’t,* his shadows hissed. *You’ll make it worse.*

*Make it worse?! It can’t fucking get worse!* he hissed back. 

He itched to go over to the group, to protect his mate from these cruel, cruel words. 

*Yes, it can,* the shadows snapped. *What do you want to do? Massacre her sister right in front of her?!* Azriel growled under his breath. 

*Normally you are much more bloodthirsty,* he complained to the shadows. 

*You are the fucking spymaster. Act like it,* the shadows snapped. *You want us to make her sister’s life a misery? We’ll do it. We’ll do it and it will never be traced back to you. Besides, she deserves worse than a quick death.*

He clenched his teeth. 

The other females were laughing, but his mate...wasn't. She wasn't saying a single word, wasn't defending herself, wasn't saying anything. Just...just sitting there and taking the horrible abuse with a neutral, blank expression on her face.

"Cat got your tongue?" her sister asked her with a roll of her eyes. "I mean, it's not like you're good at talking, are you?" she asked her with a cruel little laugh. "Too bad for you that males want females that are able to have a conversation, not awkward little things who can't even speak when spoken to."

Azriel's body tensed as he listened to the words, every muscle coiled tight. It took every ounce of his control not to stride over to the group of females and punch her sister straight in the face. The only thing he wanted to do in that moment was to protect his mate.

The comment clearly found it's target, Azriel could see his mate flinch at the words, her face crumbling momentarily before it smoothed over into a neutral expression again. Gods...it must've hurt so badly to hear her sister speak to her like that…

*We’ll ruin her fucking life,* he vowed to the shadows. 

*Agreed, Master.”

Her sister rolled her eyes another time. "Come on, let's go," she told the other females. "You have the bill, don't you, Skylar?"

The words made Azriel snap. So the sister hadn't intended to even pay for her drinks in the first place? It was…they had just used her, he realised suddenly. Used her for the first stop on their tavern tour, to pick up the drink tab…and that was all she was good for in their eyes…

It was...Azriel couldn't stand by and watch this anymore, it made him so angry. So fucking furious.

"Ye...yes," his mate stuttered.

She looked so small in that moment, her eyes averted, her shoulders slumped, her hands trembling. She looked...wounded, so hurt, and Azriel was...he was sick of seeing her just accept this verbal abuse without a word. 

They left. They should thank the cauldron that they left at that moment, because otherwise Azriel would have made Cassian at his worst look like a puppy.

He wanted to storm after them, to give every single person in the group a piece of his mind, but that could wait. The most important thing right now was his mate. She was still here, after all. Azriel took a deep breath, and slowly, almost hesitantly walked towards her.

He watched as she didn't move, and he finally decided to speak, his voice a low, soft murmur. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the chair beside her.

Her head turned, and he felt his heart stop as her eyes met his for the first time. Up close, her eyes were...mesmerizing. A deep, sparkling blue, framed by long, lush eyelashes. He couldn't look away from her.

And she stared at him, her mouth slightly open, her eyes near comically wide.

He gave her a soft, slow smile. "Hi," he greeted her, his voice gentle. She blinked a few times, still staring at him, and he found it so cute, how shocked she was that he was talking to her. 

Her mouth opened but no words came out. She was staring at him like a poor bunny rabbit would at an apex predator , caught in his grasp.

For just a moment her scent went utterly haywire.

Caramel and Hazelnuts. So sugary sweet that he would have gladly rolled around in it. And she just stared at him, wide eyed, silent...until suddenly the scent changed to incadescent happiness.

"Oh." A small sound escaped her as she swallowed.

And he knew. He knew at that moment that the bond had just snapped for her.

[medusaesque]

Kim Kitsuragi and the pale-

Kim has a unique relationship to the pale, I tried dissecting it and making sense of it. Reposting with more thoughts after some good conversations with @binomech.

Warning- it's insanely long.

1. After life, death

One of the first thing you can learn about Kim is that he would hurl himself in death's way to save you. From the very first moment, Kim is related to sacrifice and death, it follows him wherever he goes-

The slaughterhouse.

He lost his parents at two years old. He worked a year in Processing (here's good post about that by @renmorris and @spilledkaleidoscope). He lost his partner, Eyes. People have taken a bullet that was meant for his more than once. His survivor's guilt is insane. He's killed six people. He's afraid of killing recklessly, and has a deeply unhealthy relationship with his gun (made another embarrassingly long post about that).

Kim also hears pale 'ghosts' on the police radio all the time, talks about it like it's normal, and says he doesn't believe in ghosts.

If harry is with Noid during the Moralist dream quest (more on it later), Harry can even wonder if Kim himself is a ghost, prompting this beautiful exchange-

And he's not entirely wrong. When Harry gets shot, after Kim fulfills Espirit's promise and stands in death's way for him, you can ask as you fall into darkness what will happen to you-

It's the living who are ghosts. You can leave them behind and rest. Go into the wild pale yonder, along with everyone else Kim has ever cared about. Or at least you can try to.

When death is at the door, you have two options-

2. After death, life again

Kim might associate himself with death, but Harry associates him with life again and again- Death is darkness, Kim has a light bulb halo. Death is a sunset, Kim is a sunrise. Death is where you are when the game start, it's ready to take you, and then- a clarion call, the sound of a motor carriage, a detective arriving on the scene, and you open your eyes.

Of course Kim is no actual saint, no guardian angel, but it's really telling that even in harry's deification the symbols of Kim's holiness are worldly, almost mundane, the matters of every day life- a celling's fan lightbulb, the engine of a car..

Or the way @binomech said it when discussing Kim's portrait: this is the only thing keeping you from the full brunt of the world in your mind #but truly you are already in the world #and he is just a man #and that's just a car and that's just a ceiling fan

The game is very clear about Harry being a ceaseless agent of the world, but he's not the only one. Harry stands at death's door twice, and Kim is his way back to the world both times.

3. After the world, the pale

So what is Kim's relationship with the pale?

As casual as he might try to appear, Kim is clearly uncomfortable with the pale, afraid of it even. When Harry brings up the pale, he intervenes, genuinely worried for the fragile stability of his mind, trying to protect him-

It's no more terrifying than water or death or that we're stuck behind our eyes for all eternity?? Sounds pretty terrifying Kim...

I think the key is in the moralist vision quest, When Harry attempts to reach the Committee of Responsibility, and he hears the pale crosstalk coming through the radio, when suddenly-

"Pale is a shroud of memories and it doesn't really distinguish to whom those memories belong to. You could hear anything." You could hear anything, but you hear Kim. Soona even says that the odds of us hearing him, out of all the voices in the pale, are astronomically low.

We know the past has not been harmless to Kim, we know it's full of ghosts and cold winters, but that's not the thing that's eating at him-

Kim is afraid of forgetting. He's constantly writing, he thinks through his notebook, always recording, so he wouldn't lose anything. That's why the pale is so terrifying to him.

4. After the pale. the world again

The world is what it is. God is in his heaven. Everything is normal on Earth.

That leads me to the expeditions through the pale-

Volta do Mar is a skill unique to Kim, according to the stats of this pilot jackets, and it's a Physique skill.

It's driving me crazy to think how Kim wanted to be revolutionary pilot as a kid, and is walking around dressed like a pilot as an adult, to give himself the ability to navigate the pale. To return from the sea-

DISTANT ENEMY OF HIMSELF?? kim....

Seeing how Volta do Mar is strengthened by his jackets, and the items' descriptions point out that most of the people who used to wear this jacket are long gone (alongside what they represented) and considering that the only real advance in pale transit is the speed with which an aerostatic craft can pierce it, is seems fitting that returning from the 'sea' requires the kind of armor that ghosts wear- the ghost of who you wanted to be but never could, of a home that was never yours. Glory to them.

@binomech said it best in this conversation we had about Kim's skills: "your traitorous race. your traitorous job. your traitorous parents. your traitorous senses. distant enemy of yourself: seolite, communist, cripple, faggot. and you wear it as armor"

Kim is equipped for Volta do Mar, he armors himself for it every day, for the thing that makes it possible to return sane, and discover a new world-

This is one of the most touching Kim moments in the game to me- putting his hand in the rain, looking up to the sky, mouth open, welcoming the spring rain, even knowing it'll bring death and destruction with it. He is devoted to this world and the role he has to play in it, or at least the role he thinks he has to play-

But we know Kim has a bigger role to play, he's trying to do his part right there, getting Harry to stay-

His connection to Harry can keep him on this world once again- keeping the two of them together. Their real work is down here, him and Harry are Revachol's only hope. If they stick together they might be able to keep her on this earth.

UNITY AMONG THE RANKS IS PARAMOUNT.

I NEED YOU. YOU CAN KEEP ME ON THIS EARTH. BE VIGILANT.

I LOVE YOU.

[jubburb]

》 "THE EARL'S SMALLEST NUISANCE."

@jubburb

ask: none.

sypnosis: you and sebastian's son can't help but bother his best friend, ciel, who doesn't quite like the attention from the young 5 year old.

a/n: sighs sighs sighs.. ive been away for quite a while.. heh.. don't worry baby.. papa's got you.. *i snake my hands around your waist and pull you into my chiseled chest.*

warnings: fluff.

notes: none.

Ciel Phantomhive was a patient young man. At least, he liked to think so. He had endured insufferable nobles, incompetent servants, and enemies who schemed against him at every turn.

And yet, nothing tested his patience quite like Sebastian’s five year-old son.

“Uncle Cieeeeel!”

Ciel barely had time to react before a small blur launched itself onto the couch beside him, nearly toppling the stack of paperwork he had been reviewing. The boy, with his wild dark locks and bright, mischievous eyes, grinned up at him with pure excitement.

Ciel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ve told you before, you are not to call me that.”

The child only giggled. “Uncle Cieeel,” he repeated, dragging out the name just to be obnoxious.

Ciel shot a glare at Sebastian, who stood nearby with his usual smug smirk. “Must he always be here?”

Sebastian, as composed as ever, placed a gloved hand over his chest in mock innocence. “Why, my lord, are you suggesting I forbid my son from spending time with you? That would be most cruel.”

Ciel scowled. “That is exactly what I’m suggesting.”

The little boy, completely unfazed by the growing tension, began poking Ciel’s cheek with his small finger. “Boop.”

Ciel twitched. “Stop that.”

“Boop.”

“I said stop.”

“Boooop.”

Sebastian covered his mouth with a gloved hand, clearly amused.

Ciel swatted the tiny hand away. “Shouldn’t you be bothering your parents?”

The boy huffed. “Mama said she’s busy, and Papa said he has ‘butler things.’” He mimicked Sebastian’s smooth voice almost perfectly. “So I came here instead!”

Ciel groaned, running a hand down his face. “Of course you did.”

Undeterred, the child scooted even closer, leaning his chin on Ciel’s arm. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Work.”

“What kinda work?”

“Paperwork.”

“Why?”

“Because I run a company.”

“Why?”

“Because that is my responsibility.”

“Why?”

Ciel inhaled sharply through his nose, gripping his pen a little too tightly. “Because that is how the world works.”

The boy blinked up at him, considering this for a moment before shrugging. “Sounds boring.”

Ciel groaned again. “It is boring. That’s why I don’t need you distracting me.”

Instead of leaving, the child beamed. “I can help!”

“No, you—”

Before Ciel could stop him, the boy reached forward, grabbed a pen from the desk, and enthusiastically scribbled all over one of the important documents.

Sebastian let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, how helpful indeed.”

Ciel shot him a murderous glare before rounding on the child, who was still gleefully doodling swirls and squiggles across the page. “Do you have any idea what you just ruined?!”

The boy blinked up at him with innocent confusion. “It was ugly, so I fixed it.”

Ciel looked seconds away from screaming. He turned to Sebastian. “Take. Him. Away.”

Sebastian, ever the perfect butler, simply smiled. “But my lord, you are his favorite playmate.”

Ciel let out a strangled noise as the boy climbed onto his lap, now using his arm as a toy. “Uncle Ciel, do you know any cool stories?”

“No.”

“Pleeeeease?”

“No.”

“Pleeeeeeeease?”

Ciel clenched his jaw, glaring at Sebastian, who was clearly enjoying his suffering. “Fine,” he bit out. “Once upon a time, there was an annoying little boy who kept bothering an earl. And then... he vanished!”

The child gasped dramatically. “Poof?”

Ciel nodded, crossing his arms. “Yes. Gone. Forever.”

The boy giggled. “That’s silly! People don’t just poof!”

Ciel smirked. “You don’t know that.”

The child gasped again, this time with genuine wonder. “Wait!! Uncle Ciel! Are you magic?!”

Ciel blinked. “What?”

“Can you poof people away?”

Sebastian let out a low chuckle. “An interesting theory.”

The boy scrambled off Ciel’s lap and gasped again, eyes wide with excitement. “You gotta show me! Poof someone away!”

Ciel stared at him, exasperated. “That’s not how it works.”

But the child was already looking around the room. “Hmmm… Maybe.. maybe Baldroy? Or Finny! Or.. hmm.. OH! What about Papa?!”

Sebastian placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “How cruel, my son. You would see me ‘poofed’ away?”

The boy giggled. “Just for a little bit!”

Ciel groaned, rubbing his temples. “Enough. No one is poofing anywhere. Especially not me.”

The child pouted. “Awww.”

Ciel narrowed his eyes at Sebastian. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Sebastian smirked, placing a gloved hand on his son’s shoulder. “Why, my lord, I would never.”

The boy yawned, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sleepy.”

Ciel nearly collapsed with relief. “Finally.”

Sebastian chuckled, lifting his son effortlessly into his arms. “Shall we return to your mother, then?”

The boy snuggled into his father’s shoulder, already half-asleep. “Mmm… Bye-bye Uncle Ciel…”

Ciel scowled. “Don’t call me that.”

But his complaint fell on deaf ears as Sebastian turned toward the door. The butler cast one last glance at Ciel, his smirk widening. “I do believe he enjoys your company, my lord.”

Ciel slumped into his chair, glaring at the ruined paperwork. “That makes one of us.”

As the door closed behind them, Ciel let out a long, exhausted sigh.

Sebastian’s son was, without a doubt, his most annoying problem.

And yet…

Ciel couldn’t help but feel the room was quieter, almost too quiet without the little menace chattering away.

He frowned, shaking off the thought.

No. Absolutely not.

There was no way he was getting used to this.

…Right?

- signed by c

[sebmindbreak]

For whoever that send the yan azuretime x Yan reader THANK YOUUUUUUUUU I LOVE YOUUUUU

Also for req can we have maybe headcannons or one shot after they all got forsakened. Messed up polycule in hell what would probably go wrong.

(also did you you know that the Evil one that possessed Azure is the spectre through his hat? Use this info for what you will cause ik these guy will not let that slide)

TIME TO COOK :sparkles (i dont have emojis...)

ANYWYAS I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! <3<3333

I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

i made the hat talked for funsies <3

EHHEHHEE

TITLE : finding ourselfves again

the sky split open above you, dragging your body through the void and slamming you into a twisted, unfamiliar map.

A haze of red mist clung to the ground, distorting the surroundings rusted structures, broken ritual sigils, and distant, echoing screams.

You felt your heart race not from fear, no, but from excitement. This was new. This was chaos.

Somewhere far off, a bell chimed. The killer had spawned.

You didn’t know it yet, but it was Azure.

Two Time’s boots skidded across the cracked terrain as they stumbled into existence with a sharp gasp.

Their purple eyes scanned everything with a wild intensity. “Where are they?” they hissed, voice laced with impatience and something violent. “Where’s my sweet little thing...?”

And then they saw you.

Relief washed over their face, followed swiftly by something much darker.

They marched toward you without hesitation, arms open, pulling you in with a possessive grip.

“Oh no, no, no. Look at you just dropped in the middle of a map with strangers everywhere... Do you know how dangerous that is?”

tone was sweet, sing-song, but their eyes flicked over every shadow with a simmering rage.

“There are others here. Survivors. People who don’t know you like I do. People who’ll try to touch what’s mine.”

Their fingers tightened around you. “We’re finding him. Now.”

It didn’t take long. Just as Two Time pulled you into a dim hiding spot near the corrupted altar, something surged from the shadows.

A blur of dark coat, writhing tentacles and eyes glowing from beneath a tattered hat with sharp purple eyes and a jagged maw.

Azure.

His steps were slow, but the fury in his gaze was unmistakable. His hat snarled, voice dripping venom: “You’re wasting time. They should be with you, not them. Let’s kill and go.”

But Azure didn’t answer the hat.

Instead, his hand snapped up, yanking it off with a firm tug. “Shut up,” he growled.

The hat squealed as the tip of it was pulled down. His sharp gaze pinned Two Time.

“You kept them from me,” he hissed. “You hid them.”

Two Time’s smirk returned, taunting and sly. “Of course I did. I know how needy you get when we’re all together. Can’t risk you stealing kisses before I get mine.”

“Oh? And what were you doing? Smothering them like a leash?” Azure’s voice curled low, bitter. “They belong to both of us.”

Two Time didn’t argue.

They just pulled you tighter, nearly burying your face in their shoulder.

“I’m not letting anyone take them,” they whispered, voice trembling beneath the calm mask. “Not the survivors. Not the killers. Not even you.”

Azure’s eyes narrowed but instead of lunging, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around both of you.

“You think I’ll let them have a piece of what’s mine?” His tentacles slid around your waist, around Two Time’s back, pulling you both in with trembling fury. “No. Never.”

The tension broke not in a fight, but in an embrace.

All three of you tangled together on the ground, limbs overlapping, hearts thundering.

You felt Two Time’s cheek press against yours, soft breaths brushing your skin. “We’ll keep you safe,” they muttered. “Even if it means burning the map to ash.”

Azure leaned in closer, resting his forehead against yours, voice dropping to a low, shaking whisper.

“We’ll kill them all. Every last one. No one gets to look at you.”

The cursed hat groaned weakly from the side. “You’re wasting time…”

But neither of them responded.

Not anymore.

Because as your three bodies pressed tightly together, entwined with love and madness, the rest of the round didn’t matter.

The chaos offaded into silence. There were no survivors. No threats. No enemies.

Just obsession.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!

[iwantazzifudd]

With you I can do anything

Pazzi before draft one shot enjoy ☺️

1k words

In and out. In and out. The day had finally come, and Paige was wrecked with nerves. Of course she was excited. She was finally accomplishing all she had dreamed of, and in all of the perfect ways. But that didn’t do much to subside the unease she felt about this new start. What if she couldn’t live up to the expectations everyone held for her? What if all of her best years would be at college?

Just when she felt the most panic seep in she got a FaceTime from Azzi. She was hesitant to answer, she didn’t want Azzi to see her worried but she knew that her girlfriend’s presence would ground her.

“Hey baby” she smiled, finally releasing a breath she didn’t even know she was holding.

“Hi beautiful” Paige flushed at the compliment, even after all of these years Azzi could still get her flustered. All she could see of the brunette was a dark screen though, she thought it was unfair Azzi could see her but she couldn’t see her back.

“Can I see your face babe?” Her voice came out less composed than she hoped it would. She still felt anxious.

“Well I didn’t want you to see how I looked until we were in person…” Azzi replied, and almost immediately after Paige heard a knock at her door.

“Az-“ Paige looked at her camera in astonishment, still not opening the door.

“I don’t have much time, I wasn’t supposed to come over here p open up” she giggled on the other end of the phone.

Paige wasted no more time to get to the other end of her room to greet the girl. She practically dragged her in, and she wrapped her in a tight hug once the door was closed.

Azzi reluctantly pulled away and rested her arms around the blondes neck.

Paige finally took the sight of her girlfriend in. Her usual curly hair was blown out and loosely curled. She wore a tight fighting long black dress and the neckline plunged down in ways that drove Paige wild. She was the most perfect person she had ever laid her eyes on. Paige couldn’t believe her luck.

“God Azzi you look unreal” she swept her tongue across her lips struggling to not take the dress of her best friend right there and then.

Azzi tracked the motion with her eyes and she smirked. “You don’t look too bad yourself” she closed the space between them to place a gentle kiss to the blondes lips. Paige’s hands found themselves in Azzi’s hair as she attempted to deepen it.

“Paige” Azzi pulled back first again, but the deep look in her brown eyes told Paige that she wanted to do anything but stop.

Paige moved her hands back down to Azzi’s waist and sighed.

“How long would it take for them to redo your hair anyways” she was hoping for a longer kiss from her girlfriend and maybe a little more.

“More time than we have silly” she grabbed Paige’s hand and attempted to lead them to the couch but Paige still had other plans. She stopped and pulled Azzi flush into her. She let her finger graze Azzi’s nipple through the sheer fabric of her dress.

“Mm what if I promise to touch you without messing up your hair or makeup” she replied with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Heat rose into the younger girls cheeks at the thought, but she could tell that Paige was avoiding something.

“How about we talk instead Paigey that’s could be nice” she gave the girl a knowing look. It was jarring how well Azzi could see through her even when she thought she was pretending so well.

“I’m okay Azzi-“ but the way she looked away showed that she was anything but that. Azzi placed a gentle hand on the slide of her face. Guiding her to look back at her.

“ Baby you are going to be incredible” she knew exactly what Paige was worried about. She put way too much pressure on herself and she didn’t want to let anyone see how much it was affecting her.

Paige hesitated for a moment, “But what if I let everyone down? And what if- what if things change between us” The vulnerability in her voice made Azzis heart ache.

“Paige we’ve been long distance before we’ve got this” she tried to reassure the girl. Paige rested her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck overwhelmed by all she was feeling.

“Yeah but not for this far and for what feels like forever” she sniffled in the Azzi’s shoulder.

“Aww baby” this time she held Paige’s face in both of her hands. Making sure her words sunk in. “Paige we’ve been through so much together all ready. I know that you are my soulmate, my everything. Nothing, not even a few thousands of miles and take that away from us” she gave Paige another soft kiss.

“And for others expectations none of that matters. You’ll have the best rookie season you can have for you, not for others opinions of you.” “And even if it doesn’t go as planned you never have to prove yourself to anyone, not even me.” She patted away the tear falling from the blondes cheek.

“Now I think I have to go before they really kill me for making you cry” Azzi teased trying to lighted Paige’s mood back up.

Paige rolled her eyes but she couldn’t help the smile on her face. “I don’t know what I’d do without you Az”

“Probably lock yourself in this room forever” Azzi joked.

They stood in the warm embrace of each other for a little longer before there was a knock at Paige’s door.

Azzi sighed not wanting to leave the peace of her girlfriend quite yet. “I’ll see you soon Paige” she kissed her cheek briefly”

“Later princess” She made sure to give her a slap on the ass before leaving unable to resist.

And although all of the anxiety wasn’t gone yet, Paige felt at ease, knowing she’d always have Azzi at her side, and that they’d be on this new journey together.

[acid-ixx]

Hiii, I have read all your work and it is very good :D!! I've read it several times and never get bored.

Can I ask about something? I'm curious about the characteristics or signs of yandere appearing in Tim. Will he be the last family member to become a yandere? Sorry I asked like this because I feel like he's not getting enough attention in drabbles, questions from other readers, or anything else. So I'm curious.

I hope you understand my question. Because English is not my first language.

— masterlist !

don't mind me using the tags here, i want to clarify a lot of things.

hi anon!! don't worry about your english, i understand perfectly and it's also not my first language too hehe. and to all the others who have asked about tim's (or any other characters') appearance in the series: fear not, nobody is getting ignored at all, i intend for everyone to have their designated events/moments that trigger yandere characteristics for the reader for each chapter. it's my plan to make them each as unique as possible with their intentions, motives and goals, not just them being simply "obsessed" with you, so i'm trying my best to add depth to the story.

that means the entire series will stretch out quite a lot (i already have outlined multiple arcs, flashbacks, and all the characters' individual traits and significance). it's not just going to be ten chapters, i want to remind others that there's more lore to just the neglect, your mother's dark past, and characters that haven't even been introduced to the plot yet, so if you guys prefer one-shots or something shorter, then the series is not for you folks, sorry 😭

as for tim, he is quite literally my favorite character (surprise!), so of course he's going to get special treatment. he's not going to be the last to become yandere, but his spiral to becoming a yandere takes quite a lot of time since compared to others, it's him who spends the least amount of moments with you. even in the non-neglected au i wrote, what triggered his obsession was mere curiousity.

though just because there're lesser events with him, doesn't mean there will be none. he certainly plays a major role in the "wild goose chase arc where the family tries to negotiate (kidnap) you whilst you try to escape to multiple cities/end up in a completely different country". he may not express his love for the reader well, but he most definitely knows the most about you.

oh! and the traits that he does have as a yandere looks tame when you compare it to others, but it's also because it manifests through his personal dialogue (as i reckon he's keeps most of his thoughts about you to himself most of the time (gatekeeper archetype) and he's the character with the most internal dialogue/thoughts too). he's the worst stalker you could have, the one who you should look out for the most with just how much he knows about you in such a short period of time. tim's intelligence and detective skills knows no bounds, and he won't stop exhausting himself until the very knowledge of what the blood pumping under your skin feels like and the exact temperature of your body— is extracted and stored into the terabytes of data he has into his personal batcave.

and spoiler alert: he's also the one who uncovers your mother's past and alongside bruce, what had happened between the period of time when you were dragged out of the closet and the other time in elementary when you were nearly kidnapped, which completely leads to another arc wherein it's where their obsession drives off to a completely different plane of existence, exalting vengeance on the people who tormented you; but tim's pettiness is just on a whole nother level.

and i have to stop here before i (excitedly) spoil the entire series' plot LMAO. my answer to this is a bit more casual to the other asks, so i hope it doesn't irritate anyone.

so thank you for asking this! i also have a question for you people too:

how is the current progression of the plot? i get that it isn't even 10% finished and some moments feel slow, but i try to be as immersive as possible to the readers. so for those who have read the entire thing, what do you want me to possibly add, or does anyone have other clarifications? can anyone tolerate a fanfic that can possibly lead to more than 250k words??? 😭

[avvwritesstufff]

HALLOWEEN~PB⁵

Summary- Reader and Paige have a friends with benefits type of situation and their friends don’t know but they find out at the campus halloween party

Warning- Eating out(r! receiving) nothing else i don’t think…

yall chill on me bc it’s my first fic

Tonight was the big campus Halloween party, and Paige and I decided to go as matching vampires. Basic, sure, but undeniably cute. We got ready together, layering on the dark makeup and fangs. Paige insisted on pouring fake blood down my arm, laughing as she did.

"You look hot as fuck," she said, grinning as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"Aw, thanks, Bueckers. Can't say the same about you, though," ! teased, leaning in close, just to pull away at the last second, leaving her hanging.

With a laugh, I grabbed my bag, and we headed out. We'd decided not to drive, so we hitched a ride with Yanna and Ice.

When we got to the party, it was everything we'd expected-loud, wild, and packed with our friends. We found the group and quickly got into the spirit of things, which meant getting trashed, of course.

At some point, Paige and I broke off from the others, just walking around, dancing, and vibing. It was perfect-until I noticed a girl with black hair eyeing Paige a little too intently.

"That girl keeps eye-fucking you, P," I said, my annoyance probably too obvious.

"Who? The one with the black hair?" Paige asked, glancing around.

"You spotted her that quick?" | shot back, trying to keep my jealousy under wraps.

"Oh yeah, I met her at the bar earlier. She's hot," Paige said, looking back at me with a smirk.

"Paige Madison Bueckers," | warned, grabbing her arm before she could make a move, "Walk over there, and I'll beat your ass. You're staying here with me."

"Yes, ma'am," she replied, instantly obedient, though I could see the teasing glint in her eyes.

The rest of the night, Paige kept trying to make me jealous, playing it up just to get under my skin.

Eventually, we both had enough drinks to let loose completely, and we started dancing together.

Paige's hands were wrapped around my waist as I sang along to “Dress" by Taylor Swift, each lyric dripping with intention.

"I don't want you as a best friend, only bought this dress so you could take it off," | sang, my voice low and sultry, looking directly at her.

"Is that a promise?" Paige whispered in my ear, her breath hot against my skin.

"We can make it one," | smirked, but before things could go further, Aubrey and Aaliyah's voices cut through the moment, calling for us from across the house.

Reluctantly, we made our way over, ending up on a couch that was too crowded. I ended up on Paige's lap, not that I was complaining. We were playing some game, but I wasn't interested-I was too focused on Paige, leaning against her, feeling bold and, honestly, horny as fuck.

"I need you, P," | whispered into her ear.

Her eyes widened in shock, but she didn't waste a second before excusing us from the group. I led her out of the room, barely able to keep my composure.

A bedroom in a frat house wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. As soon as the door shut behind us, Paige locked it and immediately pressed me against the wall, our lips crashing together. I wrapped my arms around her neck, pulling her closer as she lifted me by my thighs, her lips trailing down my neck.

"Fuck," I gasped, barely able to speak as she smiled against my skin, lowering me onto the bed. I quickly flipped us over, straddling her hips as I grabbed her face and kissed her again, more deeply this time.

Paige's hands found my hips, guiding me as I ground against her.

"V..." she breathed out, her voice laced with desire.

I couldn't help but smile against her lips, keeping the rhythm. "A bedroom in a frat house wasn't where I imagined this happening," I joked, even as my heart raced.

"Hmm, so you've imagined us, huh?" Paige teased, flipping me over again, moving me to the edge of the bed. She started pulling down my underwear and stockings, her eyes meeting mine for permission. When I nodded, she spread my legs, kissing up my thighs before diving in, making me gasp her name.

We were so caught up that we didn't hear the knocking at first, but it quickly became impossible to ignore. Paige and I shared a panicked look as we scrambled to make ourselves presentable.

Paige went to the door, trying to act casual, only to find Yanna and Nika on the other side.

"Yo?" Paige greeted them, clearly trying not to panic.

"Oh, hey, p," Nika said, looking relieved. "We finally found yous. We're getting ready to go."

"Yeah, alright," Paige said, smiling as I stepped into view.

"Hey, guys!" | added, trying to sound normal despite everything.

"Someone's in a good mood," Yanna said with a knowing smile as she looked at me. I just smiled back as Paige wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close.

"Well, we're heading back. Are you coming?" Nika asked, trying not to overreact in the moment.

"Yeah," Paige replied, and we followed them out.

Once outside, Nika went to ride with Aubrey, Azzi, Caroline, and Amari, all heading to our dorm.

That left me, Paige, Aaliyah, Ice, and Yanna in Yanna’s car.

The car ride was quick and quiet, everyone too tired to talk. As soon as we got back to the dorm, i went to mine and paige went to hers to shower and change.

Nika barged in “OMG YOU AND PAIGE FUCKED” she yelled

“woah nik calm down” you said grabbing her shoulders laughing.

“THAT IS CRAZY- WELL WE ALL KNEW YOU GUYS WERE HOOKING UP BUT OMG” She continued to yell.

“The fuck- anyways nika its 2 am. please stop yelling.” I tell nika as we sit on my bed. I explain our situation to her.

“yo- oh hey nika?” paige says walking in.

“ugh if you guys are gonna fuck again, i’m sleeping at naheims. gay bitches” nika says joking and walking out.

[the-original-skipps]

|| S𝐮𝐨 H𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 G𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧. || Depraved!Suo Hayato x CluelessFem!Reader || Wind Breaker ||

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:13

PLAY!

due to the "yes" winning the poll I have decided to post however, if you said "no" you may scroll past and completely ignore this : i've never written dark content before so this is a first trying to branch out into new things also depraved is a fancy word for yandere perv lol also hes aged up here and he and reader are the same age

CW: 18+ content, dark content, yandereness, sexual content, non-consensual, use of drugs.

18+ only minors do not interact

❥ Suo Hayato is a gentleman that is what his friends and the people around him would and will say. He’s a loyal friend and is always ready to lend a hand when you’re in trouble. Is what he wants you to believe but behind that kind smile lies thoughts and intentions you would have never thought a man like him to have.

❥ You’re such a naive little thing is the thought that often crosses Suo’s mind. Like unsuspecting prey, you have no idea what kind of thoughts a predator like him has for you. Who so easily believes anything he says as you look at him with those innocent doe eyes. You shouldn’t look at him like that, the urge to ruin you only gets stronger.

❥ You would think that Suo barely uses his phone but in fact you just never catch him when he does. His phone's gallery is filled with pictures of you, the pictures you posted online to the unexpecting shots he's taken of you. These pictures help him fuel the daydreams he has of you, especially late at night.

❥ You don't realize but Suo likes to take his eyes all over your body. From your tight blouse where the outline of your bra is present or how your skirt peaks a little to show your supple ass has him running wild with impure thoughts. Are you testing his restraint with how you choose to dress or are you just asking him to do as he pleases with you?

❥ Suo always likes to stand behind you not only does he get a good view, he also gets to take in your scent. He’ll casually compliment on how good you smell, asking for the perfume brand that maybe his mother would like. It’s an innocent question, of course you'd happily answer. However, his true intentions are to buy the exact same shampoo or perfume as you.

❥ Cause he’ll spray that perfume on his pillow and his clothes. It's as if you were just with him. His pillow as he hugs it tight, imagining that it’s you that he hugs you from behind- his hips rutting, his hard erection pressed against your ass. As he licks your ear and whispers, teasing you on how needy you are. Red faced, as you whimper and plead with him to put it in.

“Tell me, how badly you want me.”

“P-Please, Hayato…!”

❥ Just the thought of you whimpering his name with desperation almost has him cumming. As he strokes his cock with the exact same underwear he managed to steal when he was at your place under the guise of bringing some new tea over for you to taste. It was so easy to excuse himself to the bathroom to look into your laundry basket, not to look for the freshly washed ones but the ones you just used.

❥ As mentioned above, Suo likes to come over to your place with some excuse of having new tea or dessert for you to try. It's adorable how you can't deny him. So he takes the opportunity to slip in something that has you yawning, difficult to keep your eyes open. Suo the sweet talker that he is will coax you to take a short nap on the coach.

❥ Once he knows you’re deep asleep, he'll straddle you-but hovering to not put his weight on you. He will get real close to lovingly admiring you as he traces his hand around your vulnerable body. Unbuttoning your shirt, as he presses soft kisses on your neck and chest. Before, the strong urge to mark you takes over. He'll lick the spot he chooses, before pressing his lips-to suck on your skin until a red blotch remains. Suo will do this until your whole neck and chest are covered in his marks. Once you'll wake up you'll find your head on his lap, as he looks at you innocently-stroking your hair like nothing happened.

❥ You're confused, as you find yourself covered in this red - some borderline purple bruises around your neck and chest area, even touching them seems to hurt. Worried you consult your close friend Suo on what to do. Maybe he will offer a solution to your problem. Suo had to bite back a grin as you asked him about these strange wounds that appeared out of nowhere. As a reliable friend that he is of course he has some medication at home that might help. So, he invites you to come over.

❥ Now you sit in front of him shirt unbuttoned as he hungrily observes admires these strange wounds. His strong gaze has you flushing in embarrassment-flinching every time the cold ointment on his fingers traces a mark. Every squeak and whimper awakes a certain darkness in him, that wants to pin you down as you writhe helplessly against him. How effortless would it be for him to just take you now but he doesn't.

❥As he waves goodbye to you from his front door he thinks to himself that you don't have to leave, you're more than welcome to stay here. His parents are barely home anyway, they won’t mind. Suo promises he'll take good care of you but that is all in due time. Maybe one day but right now he's enjoying the hunt.

❥ It's hard to imagine him like this isn’t it? They're nothing more than simple actions of a friend with no hidden intentions. Because Suo Hayato is a gentleman and is your dearest friend, or so that’s what he wants you to believe. 

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Worship

a/n I won’t say anything because what is there to say… Also, this is fiction idk why but I just feel the need to wave that flag here.

Summery: Just on stage shenanigans between you, the back singer, and the boys.

warning: no full on smut because there’s so much of that as it is but they are sex on legs so this does have sexual implications. I’m just a girl. And I feel like I should go confess my sins to someone.

All of them x reader

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Nothing truly beats the feeling of the stage lighting beaming on you. The radiant atmosphere and the beating of the crowd in front of the stage. It got addictive fast. And the rush of both adrenaline and freedom you never truly got over. Most of the time, it still felt like a dream. Like you weren’t there. There weren’t four other people. A whole band that people swooned over. 

You still remember the notification of the private message in your DMs. “We’ve seen your videos. The voice is to die for. Up to back us up?” You had stared at it for hours. Pressing the profile over and over again, convinced that one of the times it would take you to some scammy account, but it didn’t. So you took that leap of fate, and the roller coaster that unfolded still made your skin tingle at times. 

“How you don’t break an ankle in these is beyond me," II grumbled, gesturing to the high heels you were strapping around your legs. Before throwing the towel he had just used to dry his hair with, at you. You huffed back, “Of course you wouldn’t know; you sit and look pretty the whole show."  You shot him an overly exaggerated smile before flipping him off. “Put the claws away, baby," he said, lifting his hands up, “I would love to keep my eyes for some time longer." You lifted both of your hands, making sure to flex the black coffin-shaped nails, only earning a chuckle in return from II. 

“No form of violence is allowed backstage," III cut in, putting the mask over his face, “Unless it’s consensual, of course." The three of you snickered. There was never a dull moment with them. You weren’t sure exactly why you imagined them to be all cold and unapproachable, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. From the silly hats they happily took from the fans to messing around on stage barking. “We’re out in thirty,"  IV's voice cut through the snickering. “Vess?”, you questioned, standing up only to still feel tiny among them. It was unfair how even killer heels had you feeling minuter. “In his element, ready to go," the usual then. You turned to the mirror while doing the last checkups. Fiddling with the straps of your dress.

“Headset feels good?”, warm hands slipped up your beck, fidgeting with the wires as if he even knew what he was doing. “You just needed an excuse to put your hands on me, sir," you said, pushing back against IV’s chest. He already had his mask on, but from the way his blue eyes flickered, you knew he was smirking at you. “You can’t call the man guilty if you haven’t caught him red-handed, darling,"  he muttered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “And to my defense, the wire wasn’t plugged in,"  he snickers before pulling back. You shook your head as you watched him follow after the boys out. Reaching for your mask, you take a couple of deep breaths to steady your heartbeat. It was going to be a night to remember. You could just feel it. 

And your gut wasn’t wrong. The crowd was wild tonight, and that always set the bend into a different kind of frenzy. For most of the shows, you were usually up there on your pedestal. Looking like a vision cloaked in both light and darkness, there were some songs that Vessle liked having you down there with him. But you always felt almost guilty. You didn’t want the fans to feel like you were there to change the dynamic. Let alone take up a spot that wasn’t yours to take. 

So when you noticed Vessel striding towards you, you couldn’t help but silently shake your head. They had already all been all over each other all night. But you don’t get to run through all of your reasons as to why this was a bad idea before Vessel was in front of your pedestal. Hands reaching up for your ankles before he pointed for you to get down. You shook your head at him, continuing to sing your part. Not wanting the interaction to seem odd, you sank to your knees so you can touch his face, only realizing how wrong this move was once Vessel's hands grip the sides of your hips and you’re airborne before you can even blink. 

A small shriek slips past your lips as you hold onto his shoulders. But no matter what your reaction to this was, he was all smug about it. His white teeth bright against the black paint covering his body. “I don’t like it when you put on unnecessary fights," he mused before turning back to the crowd. So, you let the thrill of the beat take over. Playing into the role of the masked goddess. A siren. That was the beauty of the mask. Such little thing making the biggest difference. Giving one the chance to feel way more confident. 

And it’s II your legs take you to first. His eyes follow your movements all across the stage. With the drum set taking most of his platform he was sat on, playing games with this man was tricky. But it wasn’t impossible. So you slither behind him. Placing your hand on top of his head, you carefully make him look up at you. That same moment, the heel II was so found off finds its way between his parted legs. Without missing a beat, his face is pressed into your upper thigh, fingers dipping beneath the mesh overlay of your dress. And you know there will be hell to pay later on from the way he’s gripping your ankle. You push his face away from your body, throwing him a lighthearted kiss as you hurry down the platform stairs. The roar of the crowd filling all of your senses. 

III is left to your mercy next. And since his eyes were all over you, you knew that even if you were to walk right past him, he would follow you across the stage. So you stand there, motioning with your fingers for him to come to you. Right as your part of the solo vocals came. Ones that boys even called your siren song. You let the melody pour out of you. Watching III sink to his knees in front of you. Your brain blanks for a moment as he leans forward, and you just know why the crowd erupts in chaos. So your fingers find his head, pulling him even closer. Let him paint the picture of devouring you. Worshipping you. And you’re yet again so thankful for the mask covering your face because you know that your face would be as red as the paint on his skin. Especially after he stands back up. Fingers moved to brush over his lips as if he was cleaning them.

You can feel someone’s eyes burning holes in your body, and you’re not even one bit surprised to see IV with his eyes blazing. He was the one you flirted the most with backstage as well. Since day one, there was just that mutual fire you both shared. So the back and forth between you both was never-ending. But if there was one thing IV avoided, it was making any move towards you while everyone was on stage. And while boys took their sweet time being lunatics when it came to you. His play pretend ended with his bandmates. Yet you didn’t miss the glances he threw your way. Or how he would find himself close to your pedestal, close enough to touch but never leaning in. 

And while your head was telling you that maybe he just didn’t want to get involved, your heart was telling you to take yet another leap of faith. So you two stood in front of each other for a heartbeat. And right as Descending’s you came crawling back to me, filled the stage. Your finger hooked beneath the bottom of his mask as you pulled him closer. No matter the blast of sounds around you, you could still make out the growl that slipped past his lips. And since his eyes promised hell, you threw all caution to the wind as you leaned in, smashing your lips against his. You didn’t let it linger for too long; there was little fun in having two masks between you both, but it got the point across well enough. 

IV’s hand reached for you as you moved back away. A freaked-out giggle slipped past your lips as you darted towards your last victim for the night. Well, and shelter now, considering that you had to get away from IV. Vessel was someone you knew had to be worshipped in front of the fans. You weren’t living under a rock. His hands and fingers had separate fan blogs, not to mention his carved-out chest muscles. So you slipped behind him. Letting your fingers trail the sides of him. Finding the sweat-drenched skin. Dragging your nails over the paint, no doubt leave claw marks in its way. 

You rested your head against Vessel’s beck for a heartbeat, hoping to slip from behind him with ease. But you couldn’t have been more wrong because the moment you took the reassured stride away from him. A firm hand gripped your hair as he carefully, yet rather possessively, dragged you back to him. Pulling your head back so he could look down at you, shaking his head. But the smile gave his controlling demeanor away. “Whatever will we do with you, little Vixen?" You bit your lip, shrugging slightly. Playfully pushing at his chest, you slipped out of his grip. Swaying your hips as you slowly climbed back to the steps of your pedestal. Not letting your brain think of the hell you just set ablaze.

[paigebuckets6]

Celebrating All Night

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x fem reader

Genre: Dating, smut

Summary: After a big win, Paige and you have a fun night out to celebrate

Warnings: Smut with plot! Praise, degradation, strap, fingering, going down, aftercare afterwards

It was no secret that Paige loved partying...

Just not as much as she loved you.

After wins, it was a common occurrence to see her and the rest of the Uconn team celebrating at a nearby bar or club. Tonight had been a huge game, Uconn winning by a landslide, and you'd wanted nothing more than to spend an evening partying with your girlfriend.

You were sitting with the team, drinking a Shirley Temple as Paige took shots with KK and Aubrey.

You could tell Paige was getting a little tipsy, but she held her liquor well, so you let her continue on.

Ice was on live, reading out comments.

"Where's Paige? Uhhh-"

You laugh at Ice's look of surprise and then mild disgust when she twists in her chair to look for Paige and the woman herself drapes her arm around her.

"Heyyyy guys!"

Paige rizzes the camera, rubbing her hands together and biting her lip, smiling wide as the comments go wild. She then dances out of view, taking another shot.

The music of the club is loud, and they're playing all the bangers tonight. You feel like dancing, so you get up from your seat.

"Paige- wanna dance?"

Paige looks at you, towering over you by a few inches. She's wearing a tight-fitting white crop top, abs on full display, and grey cargo pants, with the band of her boxers peeking out. Her cheeks are flushed, from the alcohol, you, or both.

You fumble for her belt loops in order to get her to move, and you laugh when she raises her hands and goes,

"Woahhh Ma, not in public-"

You blush, and she smirks at you.

Paige grabs the belt loops of your jeans, snapping you flush against her hips.

"Come on y/n, lets dance" She whispers into your ear, grabbing your hand, leading you into the crowd.

The lights are going crazy, the bass even louder here. Everyone's dancing, bodies and exposed skin brushing each other.

You laugh as she tries to tell you a stupid joke over the music cause you can't hear a damn thing, but she looks so cute.

Another song comes on, and Paige pulls you against her. Her hands run up and down your sides, lingering on your ass, squeezing lightly.

You want to kiss her so badly, eyes roving over the plushness of her bottom lip. Her eyes are a vivid blue, even in the flashing lights of the club, dark with desire. Her gaze focuses on your lips as well but she knows she can't kiss you either- not here.

You tease her, getting close to conceal the fact your fingers are dipping into the waistband of her cargo pants. She grabs your hands.

"You wanna go?" She says, already sending a text to KK to let her know.

"Yes.." You say, and with that, she's grabbing your hand again, half dragging you out of the club.

A few minutes later, you're back at her dorm, and once you're inside, with the door shut, Paige doesn't waste a second.

You moan into her mouth as she kisses you, pulling you into her with one hand on your jaw, the other around your waist.

She's needy, and you can feel it with the way she's kissing you so desperately.

Paige's got your dress half off, the thin straps off your shoulders, when you stop her to press her against the door.

You kiss down her neck, the smooth expanse of skin that always drives you crazy.

"Y/n, don't leave a hickey-" Paige says, but can't stiffle the whimper she makes when you bite her, your hands busy unbuttoning her cargos.

"Shhh.. let me hear those pretty whimpers, Paige," You say, biting further down, leaving kisses down to her chest.

"Can I take this off?"

You gesture to her outfit, and she just looks at you with want.

"Yes, of course- can I take your dress off?"

Even though you've been dating for a few months, you both still ask.

"Yes-" The word has barely left your mouth before she's slipping it off you, the material pooling on the floor as you kick it away.

She's kissing your collarbone, leaving a trail of hickeys in her wake.

"My pretty girl" Paige's hands are wandering, pulling you into her again, squeezing your ass.

"Off," You say, pulling her pants halfway down. Paige steps out of them, and you drop to your knees.

"We haven't done it this way yet-" You smirk up at her, and she stiffles a moan at the sight of you between her legs. It never gets old.

You press a finger to her boxers - soaked- and smirk when she begs at your touch.

"Please y/n.. don't tease"

"I know, baby, you're already so wet for me... being such a good girl"

Paige moans at your words, her hips slightly raising.

You take her boxers off and slide your tongue into her folds, relishing the way her hands automatically come down to hold your head.

"Mmmm," You moan at her taste and the position she's got you in, feeling her fingers tangle in your hair, her grip firm.

You sink two fingers into her easily and Paige whimpers as you suck on her clit. Her hips buck into you, grinding down onto your tongue.

"Yes, baby, being so good for me. Fuck my face, just like that-"

You praise her, and you don't need to look up to know she's pink. Paige fucks your face, her hands guiding you as she moans.

"Fuck y/n I'm gonna come, y/n!"

Paige comes, your fingers coated with her slick. You suck them, and she eyes you, pulling you up to her.

Paige kisses you hungrily, picking you up and setting you onto the edge of the bed.

"Does my pretty girl want my strap?" She asks you, fingers on your jaw.

"Yes.. please Paige"

You plead from beneath her and she smirks at your needy tone.

A few minutes later, she's back, her purple strap ready to go.

Pulling off your panties, Paige smirks at your wetness, pushing two fingers in to test if you're ready.

"Please Paige, I need you so bad-" You're begging because it's true- but also because she loves it when you do.

"Okay, y/n.. since you want it so bad.. such a whore for me"

Paige slides the strap in, relishing the way you take her so well. You wrap your legs around her, hands tangled in her hair as she kisses you.

"Paige-" You moan out as she hits your g spot, "please Paige, right there.. don't stop-"

"Not stopping ma"

Paige says, speeding up, her thrusts faster.

She's so turned on by the sight of you being so fucked out beneath her that she almost thinks she could come again.

"Fuck Paige.. please.. please.. I, I'm gonna come"

You clutch at her, nails digging into her back as she fucks you.

"Come for me y/n"

You do just that, shaking as you come on her strap.

You kiss her cheek, recovering from your high.

"Good job baby.. you did so- ahhh-"

Your praise is cut short as she snaps her hips into you, clearly not done with you yet. She kisses you again, biting on your bottom lip.

"Paige- Paige.. I can't take it" You pull away from the kiss to moan at her so deep inside you.

"Shhh, shut up, take it baby. I know you can."

Paige keeps fucking you, and you realize why she's continuing. The strap is hitting her clit at the perfect angle, making her thrusts a little sloppier, a little more desperate.

"Oh baby, you want to come again, don't you? That's why you're fucking me so good-"

You hold her face, watching the way her eyes are glazed over with a bit of satisfaction. Paige always gets so pathetic when she wants to come.

"Yes.. you feel so good y/n" Paige whimpers, fucking you rougher as she gets near her high. You feel yourself close to coming again and even closer when she presses on your lower stomach.

"I'm gonna come Paige-"

Paige moans, the strap rocking against her.

"Come with me pretty girl"

You come together, shaking and glad, and she breathes heavily on top of you for a second before sliding out gently.

Paige cleans you off with some tissues.

"That was so good baby, you okay?"

Paige checks in on you, handing you her waterbottle. She's finding a big shirt for you to sleep in, settling on an old navy Uconn shirt.

"Yeah, I'm good, that was great, love," You say back, giggling as she puts the shirt on over you, ruffling your hair.

"Come cuddleee," Paige whines, and you grin at her.

"You're such a baby Paige"

You settle on her chest, feeling tired but happy.

"No, you're the baby! I bet you're gonna fall asleep first!"

The banter feels familiar. You smile, pressing a kiss against her collarbone.

"I love you, Paige,"

It's Paige's turn to smile, her eyes turning into little crescents as she grins.

"I love you too y/n"

---

Authors Note: Paige fic! Lowkey this was just filth but I wanted to switch it up from the usual fluff. I hope y'all enjoyed <333.

[hunnylagoon]

The Girl That Time Forgot

Ellie Williams x Reader

Find me in one thousand years, I will always be waiting here.

Premise: Ellie is the only time traveller who uses her uncommon gift to rewind time and constantly pester you-the only immortal who made a deal with death in 412 BC and is cursed to walk the earth for all eternity. Forever was promised but you never knew the price.

Warnings: death / murder / mentions of suicide / self-harm / toxic relationship /sickness / violence / angst / war / mentions of drugs / lovers?friends(ish)?enemies? it’s complicated / mild gore / things get nuts

ONE-SHOT | WC 18k (so you know what you’re getting into)

AID PALESTINE!

Athens, Greece- October- 412 BC

Come back in one hundred years, you'll always find me here.

Rain splashes against the skin of your face in lands of ancient Greece, where the winds themselves whispered stories of gods and heroes, neither of which you were. You were nothing more than a frightened woman running away from an unforgiving husband in the dead of night where your quickened heartbeat falls in rhythm to the ocean which is almost as angry as the storm that roars above.

Carefully you dodge the jagged rocks sticking out from the sand, you had memorized each and every one after days of burning your skin on the shores. Water surged against the rocks near your feet, white froth sizzling in the waves retreating like it was trying to drag you in and take you for its own.

Your heavy breathing was devoured by the heavy rain and cracks of lighting, the sounds of thunder so deep it was like Zeus himself was stomping in the clouds. Despite the night being dark you trusted the moonlight that glimmered off of the ocean to guide you. You have nothing more than the soaking wet clothes on your back, jewelry to sell, and the drachmas you had stolen from your husband tucked away safely in a wool tagari purse.

Someone grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks "Hey!" They say, though you can't quite make out the figure in the dark you know it's a woman from the voice alone. "You need to go home." Fear pushes adrenaline to course through your veins at the sound of an unheard tongue babbling in your ears.

Your eyebrows furrow, clutching the bag even harder in your free hand. "Φύγε από μένα!" You scream, trying to force your voice to be louder than the malicious storm that brews over your head. You try to pull your hand away but the woman stands firm hardly even moving.

"Fuck," She mutters, you don't understand a word. In this moment you feel like a rabbit preparing to get devoured by a wolf, whoever this woman was you were shaken to your core like you had just uncovered a dead body. "I forgot that you can't speak English yet."

You struggle under the grip of the woman, using the hand which was holding tightly onto the tagari and begin to hit the woman before you to pry her off your wrist "Δεν θα πάω πίσω, τον μισώ μέχρι θανάτου!" You shout voice loud as thunder.

"Ow!" She said wrinkling her nose and trying to apprehend the hand that was hitting her "Can you stop?" She asks, even though you can't understand her it's worth a shot in her mind.

This does nothing to stop your protest, you only hit her harder hammering your purse against her head until she finally lets go of your wrist to block your swinging. Lighting cracks and just for a moment you catch a glimpse of her. Short brown hair that falls at her shoulders, and freckles across her face, something you had never seen before. What frightened you wasn't the sharpness of her green eyes but her clothes, an alien concept to you. She didn't wear a tunic but a scratchy blue fabric tight on her legs and what to you resembled a baggy grey burlap sack with a piece of cloth hanging off the back. In recent years it has come to be known as jeans and a hoodie.

"Δαίμονα, μάγισσα, φύγε!" You smack her once more for good measure and turn quickly on your sandal-covered heel to get away from her. You were as wild and untamed as the ocean itself, with eyes that sparkled with a craving for more than honey dripping down your tongue and salt smeared across your lips.

"Remember I tried to help you this time!" She shouts, her voice is so far off in the distance that you barely heard it through the storm. Even if her words were clear it made no difference, you didn't speak her tongue, and any warning fell unheard upon your ears "Have fun being twenty forever!"

You ran even faster than you had before, you didn't even turn around to see if the woman was still on your tail.

The salty spray stung your cheeks as you ran, your breath ragged and steps unsteady. The wind howled in protest, whipping at the wet hair that stuck to your face and neck, tearing at your white peplos, turned translucent on your body by the water. But you paid no heed to the fury of the elements, for you were driven by a desperate need to escape.

As you reached the edge of a rocky outcrop, your leather sandal caught on a slick stone, sending you tumbling to the ground. With a sickening thud, your head struck against the unforgiving rock, and the world around you spun into darkness.

You were dead. Body limp on the plethora of rocks, the tide slowly lulling over your body until it swallowed you whole and sucked you in deeper. Ropes of hair twist before your dull eyes, unmoving into the deep.

You sink further in and open your eyes though you are still deceased, your body still falling cold. Selene stands before you in the form of midnight. Her body was ebony and deep blue, half woman, half moon. Long black hair like ink tipped with moonlight spills down her breasts and her hips, she watches you with her pale eyes imploring.

The goddess before you turns to lead the way, enticing you to follow. Each step sends knives through your limbs. Your mouth tastes like blood and your lungs burn red hot though every time you try to breathe you choke and sputter of nothing, still, you follow Selene into the nothingness ahead.

Finally, she turns, one finger pressed to her lips, signalling you to be quiet. Beside her, a pale soldier appears in fine silver armour chiselled against his muscular body. The areas that the armour does not cover, his arms and an area of his legs between the middle of his thighs to just below his knees, tattered bandages hang around his limbs, They sway in the nothingness and shed by themselves. You see open wounds deep and red, beginning to bleed but his pasty skin sews itself up, leaving no scar behind, nothing but smooth flesh. Wings larger than the man himself sprout from his back. Thanatos.

Thanatos bows his head, hiding his deep sunken eyes beneath a Corinthian helmet. You should be afraid that you face the god of death but you aren't. This is a better fate than being hauled back to your husband.

He takes his helmet off, long dark hair falls onto his shoulders and he regards you. Thanatos is wordless as he stares at you, taking in every of your face, every curve of your body. He doesn't speak but you understand him well, too much beauty to go to waste.

Selene has left you to take her place back in the night sky, she watches you were she hangs on a beam of moonlight. In one hand Thanatos holds a silver knife. Your voice betrays you, for once your loud screeching voice is lost.

He holds out his hand, pitch black at the fingertips. You can tell he is trying to strike a deal as if he had put his words into your mind without ever even moving his lips.

You look at his hand and then at his face, death was less frightening than you had imagined, handsome for a god who took so many lives. He lets his offer sit and settle within you, he doesn't try to sweeten the deal, he offers you another chance and that is that.

The second you shake Death's hand, he pulls away from your grip and takes the silver dagger to your heart. With ease, he slices back layers of flesh in one swoop leaving your bones exposed before him. Using what seemed to be little effort for the god of death, he breaks your ribs and pulls out your heart.

You watch it beat in his hand, the blood drifting out of it like ribbons that hook around your limbs, you know you have made a mistake. For the first time, Thanatos smiles. Oh, how the wolf wore the sheep as a wicked disguise. he squeezes the heart and at the crush of his hand, you feel ice shoot through your veins.

Your eyes open, properly open. You were alone. You wake up in nothing more than a metre of water and immediately cry out in pure terror at the horrifying images that your mind has conjured up. You run through the salty ocean and back to the shore.

The storm hadn't subsided which helped to camouflage your sobs as you frantically felt around your body with shaking hands to be sure that the god of death hadn't ripped out your heart. Surely enough, your rib cage was intact. You fall onto your hands and knees heaving up all of the ocean water you had swallowed.

The purse that held your resources for escaping had either been devoured by the ocean or stolen off your body. Your wirey hands touch the back of your hand, you expect to shudder under the pain of the open wound that knocked you unconscious. Instead of pain shooting from a gash in your head, you are perfectly intact.

You look down at your hands, no trace of blood.

Maybe it was time to start believing in myths because you were in one.

Rome - July- 116 AD

Don't they know it's the end of the world?

At the center of the world, you had been buried alive for three years after switching places with a Vestal Virgin who looked remarkably identical to you in exchange you gained a large sum for your alleged death. When you were buried you hadn't thought much about how you would get out, you just knew that you wouldn't suffocate or starve.

After the second year passed you were beginning to think that offering to get enclosed in a stone tomb with bread, water, oil, a candle, and a bed wasn't a great way to live your abnormally long life. The air grew stale, and the silence of the tomb echoed with the whispers of the dead that surrounded you on all four walls.

Before sleeping every single night, you prayed to the gods to take your life but they never listened. What you once thought to be a blessing had turned out to be a curse, no blessing would make you crave death the same way you craved sunlight and cream. You had given away the gift of aging for a sweet pleasure that quickly became bitter on your tongue.

The first few moons after you had slipped into unconsciousness you truly believed it at all been some strange hallucination caused by smacking your dead until you took a steep tumble and fell on your husband's hunting knife only to pull it out of your body and watch the skin over your stomach fix itself up, leaving no evidence behind that it had ever happened aside from the blood on the knife.

All you know to do is survive.

It's not like you hadn't tried to find a way out of it, some loophole that would shatter the deal and set you free. You had 527 years to try and make some sense of it, but you had given up and resorted to trying to find a way to end your life. Every time you did that, Ellie always showed up to help but you were back together.

You didn't understand the words that came from her mouth, all you knew was that her name was Ellie and she was cursed like you. What was she cursed with? You weren't sure but she seemed a little less miserable with you.

Ellie would come into your life now and then, usually an unwelcome surprise, she always knew where to find you. The only consistent face that you've seen for 527 years. She seemed to know more about you than you knew about her.

Overhead of the tomb, you see a crack of light slip through one of the stones that sealed you in. A tremor shook the earth, and the ancient stones of the tomb began to crumble. Light spilled into the darkness as the walls collapsed around you.

Surely enough Ellie's head looked down at you. She smiles and extends a hand to help you out "Sorry I took so long, I had to time it right with the earthquake, you picked poor timing to get buried alive." She hauled you up, and you stepped over the rubble with bare feet, careless of whether you gut them on the freshly shattered stone or not, you knew that they would heal over regardless.

Despite still not understanding her tongue you were for a change, glad to see her. As you suspected, your feet had been sliced up, leading a little trickle of blood in your wake. The moment you reached the surface, you collapsed to the ground. The city was crumbling around you but they were the ones who locked you away in the first place. You ignored Ellie's unknown words and felt the lush grass for the first time in three years, the heat of the sun resting on your skin.

Beside you, Ellie wrinkles her nose. "You've definitely smelled better," This is one of the times when she dresses appropriately for the era, a toga slung around her toned figure. "Oh, I thought you might be hungry so I brought this, I know you don't have to eat but I figured it would be nice," She unfolded a piece of cloth beside her revealing a small stack of round pastries that had little brown dark spots in it, nothing you had seen before.

You furrow your eyebrows, partly in confusion, partly because your eyes were still adjusting to the light after being enclosed in darkness for three years. "Τι κοιτάζω;"

"They aren't bad I promise," She says, she had made an effort to learn Greek for you but it proved too difficult, all she knew was the odd word. "They're cookies and don't tell anyone because I'm pretty sure they don't get invented for six hundred years."

Ellie speaks freely like you comprehend every word that she says. You make a face that almost resembles a snarl as you eye her and the cookies suspiciously.

"In a few more centuries we're cool with each other," She eats one of the cookies, slowly taking a bite to show you that they were edible. The cookies are a little too good however and she eats the entire thing in mere seconds, speaking through a mouth full of crumbs "Maybe more than a few centuries," She corrects herself "It's like a thousand years and then some but you come around."

She looks once more at the confusion on your face and gives up on trying to verbally communicate, instead she just holds the cloth holding the chocolate chip cookies towards you and looking into her eyes as sharp as a wolf, you hesitantly take one.

Norwich, England- November- 1327

I can't take my eyes of you.

In the dimly lit streets of the town, where the stench of death hung heavy in the air and fear gripped the hearts of its inhabitants. People no longer walked freely around town, they were either sick and on the trek to become puss-filled corpses or they locked themselves away and observed the demise of friends and foes from their windows.

You had seen civilizations rise and fall and witnessed the ebb and flow of history itself, but nothing could have prepared you for the horror that awaited you in the plague-ridden streets of the town. As the death toll rose with each passing day, you donned the garb of a plague doctor, your face concealed behind a grotesque mask adorned with beak-like protrusions filled with aromatic herbs that helped to cover the sickly sweet smell of rotten corpses.

Armed with little more than your knowledge of ancient remedies and a desperate desire to ease the suffering of the afflicted, you ventured into the heart of the epidemic, where the sick lay writhing in agony and the cries of the dying echoed through the night like they were eating themselves alive.

"Jeez, this isn't good," Ellie appears beside you, out of thin air like she tended to do. Now she was wearing a green dress, long bell sleeves and a golden trim around the dress, she wore a white vale pushing her hair back. Though she was dressed for the time period she looked out of place in the garb of a noblewoman, surrounded by the sick and dying peasants. "I can't stick around too long because an official vaccine for the bubonic plague isn't developed until 2072."

"How many people will die from this?" You ask, voice somewhat muffled from the leather mask, stuffed with herbs.

"About fifty," She trails off "Million."

You were not a god's chosen but a god's cursed. You had already suspected her to say something along those lines. Your voice failed as you watched the searchers who had been employed by the city, dragging dead bodies off into a pit to be buried in a mass grave.

"Look on the bright side-

"There is no bright side," You turn to walk away from her, shoving Ellie into the back of your mind.

With each patient you tended to, you felt the weight of your immortality pressing down upon her—a burden too heavy to carry, yet one you could not escape. You watched as the plague consumed the bodies and souls of those around you, leaving nothing but death and apathy in its wake, a dream that this would be over soon.

Immortality was a mockery, you thought yourself to be a spectacle to the gods above, nothing more than cruel entertainment. As much as you run, you get nowhere, you always end up in the same place, watching those you developed bonds and memories with die.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, you fought tirelessly against the tide of death, your resolve unyielding even in the face of overwhelming odds. But with each passing day, her heart grew heavier, burdened by the weight of countless lives lost and the knowledge that she alone would bear witness to their suffering for eternity.

A boy on his porch cries for his mom and dad who will never be coming home, his sobs echo through the narrow streets like a wolf's howl.

As the moon cast its ghostly glow upon the desolate streets, you stood amidst a sea of bodies, your gloved hands stained with the blood of the fallen. The plague had taken its toll, claiming the lives of all those you had sworn to protect, leaving you alone in a world consumed by darkness.

Henry, a stonemason who had no family aside from his little brother now cries over his body. Sam, the young boy had been hit hard with the disease, the sores covered almost every inch of his body and turned black upon his ebony skin. You had watched every stage of his sickness, there was no cure other than comfort, the only thing you couldn't offer to Henry at that moment.

You could turn the brothers into poetry but you couldn't offer up the immortality that you carried like a cross you had to bear.

He held Sam's corpse in his arms, hugging him close and sobbing. Henry was freshly infected there was no way he would make it out alive though you weren't sure that he even wanted to after watching his baby brother's hands turn pitch black and seize up.

How strange that you, someone who was not deserving of eternal life, was the one burdened with it. People are dying and you can't get a grip.

With a heavy heart and tear-streaked face, you cast aside her mask, the symbol of your futile efforts to defy the inevitable. For in that moment, you realized that no amount of healing could undo the damage wrought by the plague, and no amount of compassion could ease the pain of those who had been lost.

You turned your back on the town that had become your prison, the echoes of its suffering fading into the night. For though you were immortal, you were not invincible—bound by the chains of your own existence, condemned to wander the earth as a silent witness to the fleeting moments of life and the relentless march of death.

Salem, America- April- 1692

Immortal she, return to me.

The paranoid colonial Massachusetts was not the place for a woman who never ages. You grew careless of covering up your secret and lived on the outskirts of Salem, seen by few but that didn't aid the treacherous rumours whispered about you.

You had been there when they settled in 1626 and hadn't aged a day from the time you settled. This had spread into rumours of you dancing with the devil, practicing witchcraft, and bewitching townspeople.

Though many denied your existence, all fingers pointed towards you when two young cousins began acting erratically and were given the diagnosis of being under an evil hand.

The courtroom was a hallowed chamber of unjust judgment, where the accused stood trial before the watchful eyes of the magistrate and the hushed voices of the gathered crowd. You stood, with your hands bound and your head held high, faced your accusers with a steely resolve, eyes burning with a fire that refused to be extinguished.

As the trial unfolded, it became clear that justice was but a mere facade—a thin veil masking the insidious machinations of those who sought to rid the town of its perceived evils. Witnesses were coerced, evidence fabricated, and lies spun like silk until the truth became little more than a distant memory lost to paranoia and skepticism. In the crowd, mixed in with the townspeople, you saw Ellie.

Her steady gaze on you was unmoving and ever-focused, a small smile played on her lips while she watched you face the accusations, anger simmering deep inside you like a curse.

Despite protestations of innocence, you were found guilty of witchcraft—a verdict as unjust as it was inevitable. With a silent prayer upon your lips, you were led to the gallows, where the noose awaited you like a taunt.

You had still been bound by your hands in front of your grime-covered dress from being imprisoned in a dark cellar for a month which felt like mere hours in your lifespan.

A man named David, one of the wealthiest residents of Salem and the first to seek warrants against the accused innocent aided you into stepping onto the back of a cart. The crowd surrounding you cheered while a church member slipped the noose tied to a tree around your neck.

"Hang the witch!" Ellie shouts and you lock eyes with her, feeling nothing more than bitterness and resentment. She still seems unfazed and somewhat amused like she's seen this a thousand times, she likely has. You know she had already watched you 'die' over and over again, Ellie was desensitized to it.

"Hang her!" Another man yells, following Ellie's act in tow. They scream all around you, jeering for your death which would never come. David and the churchman step off the wagon and the crowd gets even louder, anticipating a broken neck and lifeless eyes. David gave a command and the horses pulling the wagon were off, leaving your feet to flail helplessly over nothing.

Even as the rope tightened around your neck and the crowd jeered and spat their curses. Though you couldn't die the pain of the rope restricting your breathing still ran you ragged. For just a brief moment you pretend to die, and those around you cheer. There is so little hesitation in their voices, they were glad to see you dead.

You begin to thrash around, kicking your feet. When the townspeople realized you weren't deceased their cheers of victory fell into silence as you coughed and sputtered on the build-up of saliva and blood choking you. An eery silence falls upon the land while they watch in horror, waiting for you to die. Ellie bites back a smile from where she watches you. You bring your hands, bound together by the wrist to reach up and grab the rope that you hung by. Gathering all the force you can you yank it harshly, over and over again until it finally snaps and you fall to the ground.

David's face falls completely. You had known him to not truly believe in witchcraft but the murder of innocents and threatening women. The look in his eyes when he saw you stumble to your feet. "Witch!"

"Ay, I am the witch!" You shout, the townfolk backing away. You slip your hand where the rope strangled your bent neck, the moment the noose comes loose you pull it off over your head, holding it in one hand. In only seconds the broken bones in your neck heal and you bring your head up, chain raised tall, the wound where the rope dug into your neck disappearing "I am older than your oldest god, I am more ancient than the winds, and more sacred than your cross." You say, only to frighten them.

"Kill her!" David shouts to which no one answers, they are either running or frozen in terror, saving themselves before anyone else.

David isn't fast enough to run, you grab him by his hair and drag his struggling body back beneath the tree where he had hung you. In the blue hour of the day, you hooked the severed noose around his neck and began to walk, dragging his trashing body back to your home on the outskirts of the town. David's body eventually fell limp, still, you dragged it over the rocks and lumps of cobblestone. You had succeeded in making him as afraid of you as you were of him.

You were the first woman who hung in the trials, far from the last. "Headed west now?" Ellie asks, walking beside you, utterly unfazed by what she just witnessed.

Boston, America- March- 1770

In the darkness I will meet my creators, they will all agree that I'm a suffocator.

In the cobblestone streets of colonial Boston, where the talks of revolution were murmured, propaganda poured. There you resided, someone once worshipped as a god whose true name had long been forgotten by history.

But amidst the fervour of the American colonies on the brink of rebellion, you found yourself drawn to the heart of the struggle after the church bells had been rung sending confused people onto the streets covered with snow and out of their homes.

It was on the night of March 5, 1770, that tragedy struck with a swift and merciless hand where a pull of a trigger would be written into history textbooks—the night of the Boston Massacre. As tensions between the colonists and the British soldiers reached a boiling point, you stood amidst the thronging crowd.

The air crackled with tension as the soldiers, emboldened by their orders to maintain order at all costs, faced off against the angry mob, assaulting them with snowballs, chunks of ice and oyster shells for hours on end. With shouts and hollers ringing through the night, protesting the raise of tax brought by King George.

Before the rage-filled crowd stand nine English soldiers holding their ground while the mob grows more and more impatient. This had started when a wig maker apprentice got in a spat with a private stationed outside of the customs house who in turn clobbered the boy with his musket.

The eight soldiers and the captain endure the jeers of the crowd led by Crispus Attucks. The Captain, Preston, refused to fire upon the crowd though as he commanded them from the front, in the line of fire.

You push your way up through the crowd, interweaving through hundreds of people. You watch the nine men stand tall against the sea of angry colonials. One of the men is hit hard in the head with a jagged rock, he falls back to the ground his musket clattering neck to him, just then, behind them in the darkness shouts a voice "Fire!"

With little to no hesitation, the man who fell over quickly scuttles to his feet, firing into the darkness of the evening. Then, in an instant that seemed to stretch into eternity, the first shot rang out—a deafening explosion that shattered the silence of the night and sent shockwaves rippling through the crowd. The other men follow, firing a volley one at a time. Beside you, you hear the thuds of heavy bodies hitting the ground, you don't have much time to process it before a bullet lands right in your head, the bullet finds its mark, striking you down with a force that seems to rend your immortal body asunder.

For a moment, time stood still—the world around you spinning in a dizzying blur of pain and confusion. "Hault!" Preston the captain orders, the soldiers cease fire at his command, confused as they believed him to be the one who ordered fire.

You used the rising surge of anger and fear emanating from the people around you to disappear into the crowd. Men grew even more angry at this, some dispersed but many stayed put. There were only a few women in a horde of hundred, it was difficult to go unnoticed with a bleeding gash on your head, you looked more monster than human, skin on your face replaced by a mass of flesh and blood. You brought your hands up to rest on the top of your head, arms out in front of you to cover what was once your face so your already scared neighbours wouldn't see a breathing corpse.

You stumbled around on your feet, pushing yourself through the mass of people, all moving in your opposite direction, making it harder for you to keep your head down. "Is something wrong?" A woman asks, you disregard her, shoving her away from you to keep moving. Your head rang with a high-pitched whistling, echoing through your brain, and you could hardly see straight with the one eye you now had, eyesight fuzzy. Each person ahead of you blurred into the next, blood gushing down your face, so much that it trickled into your eye and tinted your vision.

The wound wasn't clean by any means, not a neat through and through. The gunshot had got you right up the cheek and into your forehead, half of your face entirely blown off. The close impact of the shot caused your right eye to burst, you were scrambling away with no face and one eye.

Already you could feel your body working to put itself back together, still blood flowed down from the horror that was your face, down your neck to soak into your stay and your once grey skirts. You leave a trail of blood in your wake, dripping into the snow that is sure to be found my morning.

At last, you finally pass the crowd, though you don't stop. You stumble into the dark streets, running until you tumble on cobblestones slick with snow and slush, eyesight heavily impaired. "You've seen prettier deaths," Ellie sucks a breath through her teeth, she isn't in the dress that a woman would wear in that decade, instead, she's clad in a red coat, the uniform of a British soldier, her hair tied up and tucked beneath a black cap that all of the soldiers adorned.

She stretches her hand out to help, you take it. Instead of being gracious that she came around to help you off the ground, you take a swing at her face, and when your face makes contact with her cheek you hear a crack. Ellie takes a step back, shocked as you haven't hit her since the night you first met, 2181 years prior to that moment. "Why would you scream fire?" You cry. The second you heard the voice, you knew it was Ellie though you hadn't had time to process it before your face was blown off. "Those men are dead, Ellie, they will never go home to their families or take another breath!"

"They die anyway," She retorts, one hand hovering over her now broken cheekbone. You look at her now, your skull re-intact, eyeball sewn itself up and found its place back in your socket, flesh weaves and stretches over your bones to its rightful place. "Fuck," Ellie mutters, wincing as she touches to fingers to her newfound injury "The second that soldier gets hit with that rock, he gets back up and starts shooting, every single time."

You freeze "Every single time?" The very moment the words fall from your lips, Ellie curses herself "How many times have you been here, on this day?"

"Maybe like," She raises an arm in defence the other still cradling her cheek as she winces"Thirty-seven times give or take."

"You've never stopped it?"

"I have," She says, eyebrows furrowing with a certain longing "It ruins everything, if those men don't die, the American revolution never takes place." Ellie's gaze softens "I know that it's awful but it happens whether you're here or not, it was meant to happen."

Ellie reaches out to hold one of your blood-covered hands, but you are quick to retract it, pulling it away. Your eyes move from where her hand waits for yours to intertwine with it to her freckled face. "How many lives have we lived together?"

Her outstretched hand falls to her side. "I don't want to answer that."

"I want to know."

She shakes her head "You'd hate me."

"I already hate you," Your mouth acting faster than your head.

Ellie doesn't seem shocked by this statement, just a little hurt. "We've had good lives together, you don't hate me every time."

"Who have I been to you?" You ask, new questions surging through your scrambled mind, questions you were sure you wouldn't like the answer to. You knew Ellie had the ability to jump between time periods, though you hadn't known that she'd met you in other timelines.

Looking deep into her downturned eyes your mind runs rampant with who you could've been to her in other timelines that defined what you meant to her now. It was like trying to recall memories that didn't belong to you, but another version of yourself- what could've been.

The hushed silence finally dissipates when Ellie opens her mouth again "I'll see you in a hundred years." With that, she turns and walks away into the darkness, her body shrouded by the cold night where screams of the freshly dead hang in the winds like sickening howls.

Nebraska, America - June - 1883

I'll be seeing you.

"Not a bad place to camp, huh?" Tommy smiles at us while the sun blazes overhead, the group disregards him as they set up camp in a grassy clearing with just enough trees to offer shade to the overworked horses. Few pitched tents while the majority prepared for a night of sleeping under the clear sky, unprotected from the elements.

His question falls upon deaf ears "What's in Montana?" Another man, Issac asks. "We're going all this way and I want to know what I've uprooted my life for."

"Untouched land, you'll be a rich man." Tommy takes the cowboy hat off the top of his head, using it to fan himself off, protesting the sweltering heat that devoured him whole beneath layers.

You eye him, unsaddling your horse, Shimmer. You were in a group of people headed to settle in Montana, many of whom you had never spoken to and didn't necessarily want to. The only ones who you had properly known were the Miller family, Maria had been the one who told you about the trip initially, telling you they needed more gunslingers. With a face that doesn't age, a decade was getting a little too long to stay in Cody and here was your offer to get away.

Joel was speaking in hushed tones to his daughter, Sarah. She was nodding along to each word her father said, you had guessed it was a set of rules, him telling her not to run off or chase down wild animals.

You shower your sweaty chestnut horse with little pats and scratches, and she gives you a snort in response as you begin to wipe away the grime she's accumulated over the day's journey. Your entire life was packed away into two saddle bags, there wasn't much room for luxury in the Wild West. Times were harsh and lands were rugged, more commonly violent than anything you'd ever seen.

As you move in front of Shimmer to pet her soft face, she sneezes on you, reverberating on the rubber lips. You scrunch up your nose, and bring your sleeve to wipe your face "You're lucky you're cute," You mutter, hearing the sound of giggling and looking to find Sarah "Hey little lady."

"Hi," Her accent was thick, she came straight from the heart of Texas. Sarah was still young, the things you knew about her dad were only what she had told you, oversharing their personal life.

"Leave her alone now," Joel walks up behind Sarah, her wide eyes looking up at him.

"I don't mind, Joel," You answer. "I saw some sour cherries by the river if you care to come pick 'em with me," You say looking at Sarah whose head immediately shoots to her dad "As long as your father says it's okay."

Sarah silently pleads with her daughter, his gaze is still cold like steel. "Maybe tomorrow," He answers and Sarah's face drops. Despite knowing the Millers for months, Joel was always iffy about letting Sarah out of his sight. He knew almost as well as you how vile the world was, especially to young girls.

"Maybe tomorrow," You repeat Joel's words, digging around in your saddlebags for a small wicker basket and cloth to spread out at the bottom "I'll see y'all around," You give the pair a nod before heading down the bank.

The walk was quick and scenic if you ignored the overwhelming heat and the entirely too many layers you were sweltering beneath. You closed your eyes and let your spirit lift with the sounds of rustly grass and the flowing river nearby. The air was thick with the sweet smell of wildflowers mixed with an earthy bitterness from the ground beneath your feet.

You walked towards the tree, carefully plucking ripe cherries. They reminded you of the same ones you once picked back in Greece, as you ate them the juice smeared down your lips you laughed with your sibling, pretending that you had been blood drinkers or angry gods drinking the wine that was poured for them.

You often find solace in reminiscing over all of the people you have been in the span of one lifetime. You've been a wife, doctor, witch, god, poet, farmer, handmaiden, dressmaker, priestess, and now you were just a woman picking cherries and planning out her next facade. What awaited you in Montana? Hopefully somewhere peaceful, a cabin by a stream where you could live alone and lay outside in a grassy meadow, waiting for the sun to swallow you whole.

After filling the wicker basket, almost to the brim with small sour cherries, a little larger than the end of your thumb. You turn to walk back to the campsite, though you pause at the incline of the riverbank and decide against it, instead, you find yourself sitting under the shade of the cherry tree, staring to the other side of the riverbank.

You thought that you could've spent the rest of eternity under that cherry tree where you listen to the songs the earth sings for you. Here, the air is clean. The river itself was a sight to behold, a ribbon of shimmering blue that wound its way through the landscape, its waters sparkling in the sunlight like a thousand diamonds. Here and there, small ripples danced across the surface, creating patterns of light and shadow that played upon the sandy riverbed below.

Someone sits next to you, you can sense them awkwardly shuffling around to try and get comfy, from that alone you knew it was Ellie. "Hi, it's been a while," You say, voice quiet.

"Hey," She takes a cherry out of the wicker basket beside you, she bites into it, juice dribbling down her chin, nose scrunches when the sour taste hits her tongue. "Fuck, that's sour."

"They're supposed to be, they're sour cherries," You look at her face to see a large dark bruise engulfing one of her cheekbones, it spreads under her puffy eye bag, giving her a real shiner over her eyelid. "What happened to your face?"

"You," She says, pressing her lips together "After the Boston massacre you hit me pretty hard, remember?"

Your eyebrows furrow "That was more than a hundred years ago."

"For you," She corrects "It's been a little under a week for me."

Your gaze shifts to the glimmering river in front of you "That must be nice," That familiar sense of bitterness set in once again, the reason why you could never stomach being around Ellie for too long. She could blip in and out of your life as she wanted but you were the one forced to sit through thousands of years of torment and longing for the sweet release of death that taunted you in mirrors and the eyes of those who thought they knew you well.

She falls short of words to say. In your eyes it was nice, in her eyes, she faced the woman whom she had married in another life who held nothing more than a little resentment for her now.

"I am sorry that I hit you," You mutter, spitting out the pit of a cherry beside you. "You did cheer for the colonials to hang me though."

"And I am sorry about that," Ellie rolls the stem of a cherry between her fingers, more focused on it than any of her beautiful surroundings. She had seen every bit of scenery that there was to see, her favourite was seeing the dinosaurs, they were much more scary in person than they had been "At least you're an urban legend now."

"What's it matter to be an urban legend when you've already been a god?" You say "It just does not get more interesting than that."

"Yeah, watching you eat your own heart in front of terrified ancestors was pretty cool." Ellie flicks the cherry stem into the river, watching it get swallowed and pulled away by the currents "I'm glad you aren't still mad at me, if I were you I'd probably have a knife to my throat by now."

"I think I'm finally getting wise after two thousand three hundred four years," You joke, digging your teeth into the flesh of another cherry.

"What? You don't look a day over one thousand," She teases, a smile ever so slightly playing on her face.

"Thanks, I was worried."

"Don't be, you look great for your age."

She was joking, her tone light-hearted but something inside you breaks just a little more. You look at your hands, not a wrinkle or callous, no sign of the exciting and extremely terrifying life you had lived, just smooth young skin stretched over ancient bones.

You should've been nothing more than a skeleton buried beneath centuries-old rubble and flora by now. "Yup."

Ellie fiddled with her hands, trying to think of something else to say, she didn't want the conversation to be over just yet. She clung to every word you spoke like it was scripture and she was the most devoted follower. "What are you gonna do in Montana?"

"I think you know better than me," You answer, eyes focused on the water glittering in the blistering sunlight, beads of sweat resting on your brow. "Care to share?"

"Can't say."

"How come?"

She shrugs "I don't think you want to know."

"Well, how many times have I travelled with this bunch?"

"I've lost count," Ellie lies through her teeth, she knew every statistic, she had turned back time to the ancient cities 872 times to be with you. It slowly got easier to face you every time though it never replicated the love you had that first time, a high Ellie was forever chasing.

"Oh," You respond, leaning against the trunk of the cherry tree, sinking into yourself.

The silence stretches between you two. You had actually missed Ellie in the century that she disappeared completely; you found yourself waiting for her to show up around a corner and say something to annoy you.

After swallowing back another cherry in silence you open your mouth to speak "Ellie, whatever I meant to you, whoever I was, I need you to know that I'm not that girl-

"I know-

"I don't think you do," You say, discarding the stem of the cherry beside you "I need you to forget about any life we had together, at least until you get bored of this one."

"I don't get bored of it, I could never get bored of you," She answers.

"Then why start all the way from the beginning over and over again?" You ask "Just to watch me beg for death?"

Ellie shakes her head "I just can't let go of you." She listens to herself "I guess you're right, I'm holding onto someone who doesn't exist anymore." You watch the realization strike Ellie, with each rapid blink her eyes get more and more watery "I'm sorry, I know it's selfish."

"It is," You answer, feeling no urge to coddle "I'm not her, I know that you loved me but I don't remember what you used to be to me. I'm sure I loved you a lot, but I doubt that I do every single time."

Ellie nodded, using the heel of her palm to wipe at the tears that threatened to spill "Okay," Her voice hardly above a whisper "Just see this life through and I promise I'll fix everything, you live a good life, I promise." You stare at her blankly for a moment before nodding. She must know what waits for you in the future, something sweet perhaps, like sugar resting on the tip of your tongue. "I'll always hold you close but I'm learning you let you go."

"I appreciate it," You say, the ghost of a melancholy smile on your face.

The heat of the day finally disappears into the coolness of night and with that, Ellie disappears too, likely to be seen in another year.

The night was draped in the thick, velvety darkness that you only got in the west, where the only illumination came from the crackling flames of a campfire. Around it sat your sorry crew of companions, their weary faces highlighted by the flickering light, casting shadows that danced across the rugged landscape. They had ridden hard all day, herding cattle across vast plains and navigating treacherous terrain, but now, as they rested under the vast expanse of the starry sky, they sought solace in camaraderie and laughter.

"Y'all hear the one about the preacher who walked into a saloon?" Tommy began, his voice gravelly from years of dust and tobacco. Several others in the group had already called it a night, resting their heads beneath the stars that hung in the ink black sky.

The others leaned in, eager for the punchline.

"He says, 'I'm lookin' for the man who's been sleeping with my wife!' And a fella at the bar stands up and says, 'You'll have to narrow it down, preacher!'" The group erupts into bellowing laughter at his words and you can't help but smile at the pure joy written on these gruff men's faces.

"Alright, alright, I got one more for ya," Wyatt announced, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. He was an unnerving man from the looks of it, tall and intimidating but after the first day you had spent with him, he treated you like a baby sister, ready to go to war for you at the drop of a hat. The others perked up, their interest piqued by the promise of one last ribald tale."So there's this rancher," the cowboy began, "and he's got himself a problem with his bull. See, this here bull is getting up there in years, and he just ain't performin' like he used to."

A ripple of knowing laughter spread through the group, anticipation building for the punchline. Joel sat beside you, he had no interest in the jokes nor did he find them funny, all he got from it was a small detox from his life of overworking himself into exhaustion.

"Now, this rancher, he's heard all kinds of remedies for puttin' a little pep back in a bull's step," the cowboy continued. "But none of 'em seem to do the trick. So he finally decides to consult the local veterinarian."

The rest leaned in, hanging on every word.

"The vet takes one look at the old bull and says, 'I got just the thing for him. There's this new experimental treatment I've been workin' on. It involves a little bit of whiskey.'"

The campfire erupted with uproarious laughter, the group hooting and hollering at the unexpected twist, it ws far from the funniest joke you had ever heard, still, you laugh. Some slapped their thighs, others doubled over with mirth, and a few wiped tears of amusement from their eyes.

"And you know what?" the cowboy concluded with a grin. "After that little glass bottle was emptied, that ol' bull was buckin' like a bronco."

As the laughter at last subsided, the fire crackled softly as men began to say their goodnights and lull for the night. They sat in comfortable silence, their thoughts drifting to the vast expanse of the frontier and the challenges that awaited them come dawn and dreams of the promised land of Montana.

"Y'know, fellas- and madams," Wyatt addresses you and Maria, "We've been tellin' jokes and carryin' on like a pack of fools, but there's somethin' to be said 'bout the bonds we share out here on the range," he began, his husky voice tinged with sincerity.

The others nodded, aside from Joel who was studying the fire in front of him, tuned out from the conversation.

"I reckon there ain't nothin' quite like the brotherhood of the trail," he continued. "We ride together, we work together, and when the chips are down, we stand together. Through thick and thin, come hell or high water, we got each other until death takes us all." Wyatt takes another swig of his moonshine "We may come from different walks of life, but out here, under these stars, we're all just cowboys," the cowboy mused. "And there ain't no bond stronger than that."

"That ain't true," Issac poked up "I know that not one of us will see each other once we get to Montana, we're all goin' our separate ways."

"Don't mean there's no bond," You peep up.

"How's that?"

You shrug "Your heart is just too young to realize."

The group stops for a moment before erupting into ragged laughter, Tommy almost has tears in his eyes at the fact that you had called the man seemingly 15 years older than you young "Kid, you're too young to realize how bad life gets."

"Sounds about right."

Cape Cod, America - May - 1937

To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels.

In the hazed ambiance of the club, the air reverberated with the lively tunes of Duke Ellington, and the floor pulsed with the infectious rhythm of swing. Amidst the whirl of dancers, there you were, dancing so exuberantly that others backed away in fear of you swinging on them; though that was the nature of swing dancing, almost a fight to keep your nose unbroken.

But even the most seasoned dancers could only keep up for so long. As the night wore on and the music continued to play, you found yourself in need of a moment's reprieve. With a smile still lingering on your lips, you tapped your partner, Richard's shoulder, signalling your desire to take a break. You hadn't known him well by any means but he was a good dancer.

Leaning against the cool plaster of the club's wall, you breathed deeply, chest rising and falling in time with the music. You closed her eyes, savouring the lingering sensations of the dance. Little did you know, your moment of respite was about to be interrupted in the most unexpected yet delightful manner.

A voice, smooth and warm, broke through the cacophony of sound around you. "Mind if I join you?" the voice asked, accompanied by a gentle tap on your shoulder. Opening your eyes, you found yourself face to face with a strikingly handsome man, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. His black hair parted to the side and slicked over as well as his dark eyes soft as snow added to his undeniable charm.

A bemused smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, welcoming the interruption. "Not at all," you replied, voice carrying a hint of amusement.

With a casual elegance, the man leaned against the wall beside you, his gaze drifting out across the dance floor. "You're quite the dancer," he remarked, his tone tinged with admiration. He was wearing a white button-up tucked into pinstripe trousers being held up by black suspenders.

"Thank you. I've had a good bit of practice." You smile softly "Your name is?"

"Jesse," He answered "Care to tell me who I'm talking to?"

"Midge," you lie, it was the name you had picked up for your residence in Cape Cod.

"Midge," he repeats smiling as the name rolls off his tongue "You might just have the prettiest smile in Cape Cod."

You can't help but grin "And I thought I had already met all of the gentlemen around these parts."

"Must've been wrong," He said with his crooked smile. Then, after a moment's pause, he extended a courteous offer. "Can I buy you a Coke? It's the least I can do for such a captivating dancer."

You couldn't help but be charmed by his sincerity and manners. With a twinkle in your eye, you nodded in agreement. "I would like that very much."

Your conversation flowed effortlessly as you sipped on your cokes, exchanging stories and sharing laughter amidst the ringing of the club and chatter of individuals all around. With each passing moment, the two of you scrambled for things to talk about, desperate to keep the spark of conversation alive. You had just prayed that you could pull yourself away from his magnetic charisma.

As the night wore on, the music gradually began to fade, signalling the end of another unforgettable evening. Reluctantly, you rose from your seat, a sense of disappointment tugging at your heart while you watched Jesse lean back in his chair studying you like a textbook.

"Well, it looks like the night's coming to an end," you remarked, a wistful smile gracing your lips.

Jesse nodded, his expression mirroring her sentiment. "Indeed it has," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of hopefulness. "But perhaps it's just the beginning of something new?"

"Perhaps," You agreed, gaze lingering on his handsome face.

That was when you had broken the only rule you created for yourself 'Don't fall in love'. One year later you were so head over heels for Jesse that you were getting married. Dressed in your floor-length wedding dress, hair carefully curated after spending hours trying to perfect it.

You hadn't any family to fill up your side of the aisle, so instead you had asked your friends from work and the jazz club to take their places. After telling Jesse you were orphaned, he didn't bat an eye at this. You had frantically searched for someone to fill the shoes of your father who walked the earth centuries prior on the shores of Greece, it was a relief when Jesse's father stepped up.

Walking down the aisle of the church, arms hooked with Jesse's father you see him then, standing at the end waiting for you and he looks like the rest of your life. "You clean up nice," You mutter to Jesse quietly to be sure no one else can hear your little remark.

"I try my best," He smiles, hands in front of him as he waits patiently for the pastor to speak up. He looks handsome as the day you met as you look remarkably the same, not a new scratch or wrinkle upon a single inch of your skin.

As you exchanged vows, the both of you unable to fight the wild smiles on your faces, the world seemed to stand still, as if holding its breath in anticipation. With each word spoken, you pledged your love and devotion to one another, promising to stand by each other's side through all the joys and challenges that life would bring and you meant every word.

The reception was nothing short of perfect in your eyes. Everyone gathered at Jesse's parents' home, flowing in and out as they pleased. You however preferred the outdoors aspect of it, where people chatted happily with a glass of champagne in hand.

"Congratulations," Ellie says "Little bummed that I didn't get an invite," There's an odd sense of bitterness in her voice. She's wearing a blue tulle dress at tea length, blending in perfectly around the other guests, long white gloves to cover the tattoo on her forearm, and she even had her shoulder-length hair pin-curled.

"I figured you would be coming around either way."

"You know me too well," She takes the champagne flute out of your hand and swallows it back.

"You're actually the one who knows me too well."

She nods, faces expressionless while she looks around at the scenery of the yard. "Good luck."

"I'm sorry?" You furrow your eyebrows trying to seek out some tell on Ellie's face that would give you any indicator of what's racing through her head. Still, she's unreadable.

"With your marriage."

"Okay?"

"What's the plan here anyways?" She asks picking up someone's glass of wine the second they place it down on the garden table and turn their head away. "In thirty years, you're still married to Jesse, he's sixty getting wrinkly and you're still young and beautiful?"

As Ellie goes to drink the wine you take it out of her hands, putting it back on the garden table. You think of something to say to her, anything, but the words die in your throat, shrivelling up, never to be said.

"I will say that you becoming a history teacher is very funny."

"Did you just come here to sulk?" You ask.

She shakes her head slightly "I've come here to celebrate your union," Ellie glances around the yard once more.

"Then celebrate," you throw your hands out "I don't see you doing anything other than slinking around."

"Honey, who's this?" Jesse strolls up beside you, putting one hand on the small of your back. He smiles brightly as he looks at Ellie, he has known all of your friends which wasn't a bountiful number to begin with, just other teachers you worked with and some people you danced with.

"Oh!" You force a smile onto your face "This is my old friend from New Orleans, we really have some catching up to do."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Jesse," He holds out his hand.

"Ellie," She says shaking it.

"When did you become friends?" He asks "Midge hasn't told me a whole lot about her school days."

Ellie looks at you, she doesn't say anything but you get the message being conveyed. 'What the hell are you doing?' she shifts her eyes to look at the groom "God this one was just wild, keep an eye on her," Ellie forces a fake laugh.

"Really?" He has that goofy lopsided smile painted on his face as he looks at you.

"Yup," Ellie says "So, when are you planning on having kids?"

"Oh," Jesse chuckles, somewhat nervously "We haven't discussed that much."

"It seems like something you should talk about before getting married-

"Thank you," You cut her off "Ellie," You couldn't stand the idea of outliving your child let alone your husband, though it was already an inevitable fate.

"Of course," She's wearing a smile that is bordering somewhere between penitence and condescension, Ellie's looking at you like you're in the gutter.

"Looks like rain," Ellie glances up at the increasingly greying sky before walking inside the cover of the house. "Bad idea," She whispered in your ear as she brushed past. In mere moments after she enters the house thunder cracks and rain dumps from the sky, heavy and harsh, beating against your skin.

Everyone rushes inside, covering their heads as rain showers and soaks them. You and Jesse are frozen, you watch Ellie's figure retreat into the group of people clamouring into the house while Jesse's eyes are trained on you, he can't hold back a laugh.

"Oh no," Jesse's eyebrows furrow as he takes one of your hands in his own and puts the other on the back of your head, staring at your face, makeup running from the rain, hair weighed down by fat droplets dribbling off your collarbone "You spent so long on your hair, what are you gonna do?"

You shake off Ellie's words, cryptic as usual. Your attention snaps back to Jesse once you can no longer see her. The gentleness of his touch, that is his beauty "I'm not sure but I've got half a mind to kiss you," You giggle.

"Yeah?" He takes a step forward "I like that half," Jesse plants a gentle kiss on your lips "The other half is great too."

"You're so odd."

-

It was a quiet Saturday evening in the summer of 1943, the echo of a fuzzy-sounding record player scraping a vinyl filled the room, enveloping you in a certain tenderness.

Jesse, in his crisp white shirt and neatly pressed trousers, held you close, his hand resting gently on the small of your back as they moved together in perfect harmony. Your hair cascaded softly around your face as you rested your head against Jesse's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat matching the cadence of the music.

As you danced, the cares of the outside world didn't seem to exist, leaving only the intimate space you shared. The faint scent of your flowery perfume drowned out concerns. In the dim light, your shadows danced on the walls. Jesse had never been the better dancer between you though he was particularly tense on this night, his eyebrows were stuck furrowed like every thought running through his head was a worry.

The final notes of the song faded into the stillness of the night, Jesse hesitated, his embrace tightening around you as if reluctant to let you go. Sensing his unease, you looked up at him, concern etched in her features.

His unease wasn't difficult to sense, you pry yourself away from him to take him in completely. "Jesse, what's wrong?" You asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Jesse took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew he had to say. He held you at arm's length, his eyes searching over your features. "I've been drafted. I received my notice this morning." His voice trembled just the slightest as he took a shaky breath.

Your heart skipped a beat, breath catching in her throat and you thought that this must be what death feels like. For a moment, the world seemed to spin out of control as the weight of Jesse's words sank in. Six years with Jesse was not enough, you needed an eternity.

"We can find a doctor to exempt you-

"You know that's not right," He spoke so softly and you knew he was speaking the truth. You could never convince Jesse to do something as heinous as faking some disease or injury to get him out of the war.

"I know," You say and he steadies himself, staring deep into your eyes and through your soul "My whole life, all I've ever known is loss and I have never cared about anything the way I care about you-

He pulls you forward into his arms, rubbing that familiar calloused hand on the small of your back to soothe you "It's all gonna be alright, love, I'll be back before you know it and then it's smooth sailing for the rest of our lives."

You copied the crook of his neck, the warmth of his arms, the curve of his nose to memory. You caught all that you could before it slipped through the empty gaps of your mind. You hadn't realized that he had been doing the same, memorizing the smell of your perfume, the texture of your hair, the way your eyes caught the light.

He told you to look to the future when he finally walked back through that door and you could dance again but the only thing you could see was the end of the world, starting with you saying goodbye to him.

July 12, 1943

My Dearest Love,

I hope this letter finds you well and in high spirits. It's been quite some time since I last wrote to you, and I apologize for the delay. The days here in Europe seem to blend into one another, filled with moments of both intense action and serene contemplation.

As I write this letter, I find myself missing you more and more. You are what keeps me going through these harrowing and relentless days

Please know that you are always in my heart, my love. No matter where I may be, you remain my constant source of hope and inspiration. I dream of the day when this war is finally over, and we can be reunited once more, never to be parted again.

Until then, stay strong, my love. Know that I am fighting for you, for us, and for a better tomorrow. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers, as I do for you each and every day.

With all my love,

Jesse

December 18, 1943

My Dearest Love,

As Christmas draws near, my thoughts turn to you more than ever. I find myself reminiscing about the holidays we've shared together, specifically the weekend we spent at the cabin. How I long to be by your side once more, to hold you close and celebrate the season of peace and goodwill together.

But even amidst the turmoil of war, I see you in every good thing. Here in the trenches, my comrades and I have found solace in each other's company, we are united in our common humanity and our dreams for a home cooked meal.

I am reminded, now more than ever, of the importance of compassion in times of strife. It is love that sustains us, that gives us the strength to endure even the darkest of days. And though we may be separated by miles and oceans, our love remains as strong as ever.

As I write this letter, surrounded by the sounds of gunfire and the cries of my fellow soldiers, I find comfort in the knowledge that you are thinking of me, just as I am thinking of you. Your love is my guiding light,

This Christmas, as you gather with our loved ones know that you are in my thoughts and prayers. Though we may be apart in body, our spirits are forever intertwined, bound together by the enduring power of love.

Wishing you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. May the coming year bring us closer to ending this war.

With all my love,

Jesse

March 19, 1944

My Dearest Love,

The world is now brighter than the sun because you're here, that is why I will remain giving you everything that I have.

I have been looking at the moon over and over again and wondered if you stare at it the same time as I do, please say yes. I think the battlefields are turning me into a poet, I would love some critique from a wordsmith such as yourself.

Everything here is frightening (redacted)

In light of the events I've just shared, I am looking forward more than ever to waking up and saying good morning to the sleepy woman lying next to me, that's you if you were curious. Here's to the future!

With all my love,

Jesse

August 8, 1944

My Dearest Love,

It is with a heavy heart that I write to you today, for the horrors of war have taken their toll on both body and soul. The past few months have been filled with unimaginable hardship as (Redacted)

The knowledge that our sacrifices are not in vain, that we are fighting for a better future for generations yet unborn keeps these weary bones standing straight.

But oh, how I long for the comforts of home, for the warmth of your embrace and the gentle touch of your hand. In the midst of so much death and destruction, it is your love that reminds me of all the beauty that still remains in the world.

I fear that I may never see you again, my love, that this cruel war may rob us of the future we had planned together. And yet I'm not ready to give up. For as long as I draw breath, I will continue to fight for a world where love triumphs over hate, where you and I can go back to life as it was.

All of the living are dead and I have noticed an oncoming silence.

With all my love,

Jesse

May 7, 1945

My Dearest Love,

I can scarcely believe it – the war is finally over, and victory belongs to the Allies!

We won! Or we think we did, a true win would likely have less bloodshed.

But amidst the celebrations and rejoicing, my thoughts turn to you. How unmanly to cry though I find myself doing so as I write this. The thought of being reunited with you fills my heart back up despite those who have emptied it, for you are my everything, my reason for living.

I cannot wait to return home to you, my love, to begin our lives anew in a world free from the shadow of war. Until then, know that you are always in my thoughts and prayers and that my love for you knows no bounds.

It looks like I'm coming home soon! I'm looking forward to some dance lessons with my one and only.

With all my love,

Jesse

Though you weren't the only one occupying the seemingly empty house, you lived with ghosts. Every step you took they lurked behind you as permanent reminders of everyone you've ever let down; months stretched into years and you clung onto each word in Jesse's letter like it was doctrine. The moment you received that final letter from Jesse you ran out into the streets and hugged the very first person you saw.

"Ellie now isn't a great time to be here," You tell her as she stands behind you in your vanity while you reapply your lipstick "Jesse's home today," You can't help the smile that stretches across your face. After years of hearing from your husband in nothing more than ink over paper, you would see him again and not just in the pictures that you had hung around every corner of the house.

"I'm here to celebrate," She says though she doesn't seem enthusiastic in the slightest. She wears black cigarette pants and a short-sleeved blouse tucked into them. You, on the other hand, had pressed your hair flat only to do it up in pin-curls, wearing your finest dress and most expensive jewelry for your husband's return home.

"If you're going to water down today, you could at the very least pretend to be happy." You were so ecstatic that you didn't even mind that Ellie had chosen today to bum around your house. For once it wouldn't be empty with nothing but your hollowed cries.

"I am happy," She answers "Are you going to wait here for him?"

You shake your head while you put in earrings that Jesse had gifted you on your third anniversary "I'm going down to the train station so I can hug him the second he sets foot back in Cape Cod."

"Nice," She nods "Have you thought about what you're going to do if it doesn't go as planned?"

You furrow your eyebrows, putting the other earring down on the vanity so you can turn back and look at her. "What do you know?" Your smile dropped at her words. Ellie isn't as unreadable as usual, she has traces of guilt across her features and that makes you all the more concerned. "Ellie, what happens?"

Before she can even open her mouth, you hear a firm knock at the front door. "That," Ellie says, you push yourself up from the vanity so fast the chair tips over. You snatch the other earring off of the vanity and awkwardly force it into your piercing as you rush down the hallway as fast as you can in your heels, clickity clack over the floorboards, Ellie trailing slowly behind you.

Your heart was pounding so fast that it reverberated in your head like an echo bouncing off the walls of your mind. A click. A slow creak and you open the door. Sun floods into the room and your heart pinches at the sight of the officer, clad in military excellence with baubles and an olive green jacket.

"Who are you?" Your stomach drops at the sight of the stranger who stands in the place where your husband should be.

The man stared at you, a certain solemn yet controlled grief lurking in his pale eyes. "Ma'am, I am Sergeant Reynolds of the 45th Infantry regiment. Are you Mrs. Midge Maisel, wife of Jesse Chang?"

Your throat went dry. "Yes," You curled your fingers inward, feeling nails push into the soft palm of your hand until the skin broke and you pushed even harder.

You didn't know who helped you sit down when you couldn't move. You only remembered fuzzy voices and the pace of your heart becoming too fast for your body to handle. There was not enough air in the world for you to swallow. The world felt so far away, as did anyone who tried to comfort you or explain the circumstances of Jesse's death.

"After Germany was concurred, he intercepted a grenade ambush from stragglers, saving the lives of many in his platoon."

Everything had stopped spinning, leaving you nauseous where Ellie sat beside you her face smeared in your vision blurry from tears.

Accept our sympathies

Funeral arrangements

The return of personal effects

Bits and pieces of Reynolds's words jumped out at you but you couldn't hear them. Restless nights for centuries were instead what clouded your mind. Outside you could hear families and friends celebrating the return of their loved ones, while you ushered the man out of your door screaming at him to leave. Music played, a celebration you would not take part in but watch bitterly from afar while you plan out the next life you will live.

Ellie begins to speak when the eery silence becomes unbearable "I know you don't want to hear it but this was inevitable-

"Leave," You mutter, resentment simmering inside of you.

"What-

"Leave," You repeat "You knew this was going to happen and you didn't tell me? You didn't stop it?"

"I can't turn the world upside down just to make you happy-

"Then why are you here?" You ask, rage carved in deep despite the tears across your face "I thought you were in love with me and that's why you won't leave me alone."

Her words fail her. She stares at you blankly, trying to scrounge up an answer that would put you both to rest. "We have a good life-

"Ellie, this is not a good life, for you maybe because you don't have to watch me suffer since you can keep skipping to the parts where I'm happy again," You correct her words, fat teardrops streaming down your face while you try to compose yourself the same way that you would a song or a speech. "I'm going to tell you now so you have to get it into your head- We are not friends, I certainly don't love you, I don't even like you and if I ever see your fucking face again, I'm bashing it in."

Bethel, America- August - 1969

If we were vampires and death was a joke, we'd still go out on the sidewalk and smoke.

They wandered through the makeshift villages that sprung up amidst the chaos, where hippies and freaks shared food and shelter, and strangers became friends in the blink of an eye. Your hand was clasped tightly with Dina's while your pupils went wide under the influence.

She refused to let go and lose you in the crowd of sweaty bodies, despite your states you understood well that you would easily lose each other in the sea of people at the music festival and wouldn't cross paths again till night time. She was wearing a turquoise bell-sleeved top paired with a skirt of all sorts of funky patterns and had on at least six beaded necklaces. You'd think that she'd be hard to miss but in this crowd, she blended in perfectly, looking a little bit like everyone else as everyone seemed to bleed together.

You were already high out of your mind the world warping around you, everything moved in frames like an old film. The ground was morphing and breathing under your feet, you giggled with each step, following behind Dina to find the rest of the little group you had come to Woodstock with.

The two of you were nowhere close to the stage, you had only partially come for the music. To you, it seemed like another historic event to add to your list. While most people sit on the ground swaying to Janis Joplin, your small circle of friends was dancing; it was something like them loosely waving their bodies around.

"No one asks me for dances because I only know how to flail!" Dina shouts, laughing so hard that she leans on you for support. You laugh too, head resting on top of Dina's. Her words weren't funny at all but everything seemed funny when fractals hoovered around your eyes. You lifted your head just slightly to see that same freckled face that had haunted you for centuries.

"Ellie!" You shouted, letting go of Dina's hand and making your way towards her, eyes half-lidded and hazy. Dina lulled in place watching you run away from her.

Ellie looked frightened that you had stuck true to your promise of bashing her face in the next time you saw her but instead, you wrapped your arms around her tightly and began to sway gingerly. It was just the beating of hearts like two drums in the rain.

"I'm sorry," You mutter into the crook of her neck. "I missed you, you should visit more."

Hesitantly, Ellie hugged you back, folding her arms around your torso and letting herself sink into you. In the past 2380 you had never hugged Ellie, you hardly touched her. She closed her eyes letting delusion flood her brain, thinking back to the first time she had seen you and then seventy years later when she realized you were immortal and every other timeline she had lived with you.

"I missed you too," She muttered, trying to ignore the fact that you were only saying this because you were high.

You pull back away from her and take her in, all dazed. You give her a boop on the nose with your index and erupt in giggles while Ellie furrows her eyebrows. An idea strikes you and it's apparent on your face as you light up, eyebrows shooting up. "You should come to tell my friends about all of your time-travelling stories!"

Ellie starts to shake her head but you pull her away despite that. She trails behind you as you refuse to let go of her hand, dragging her back to the grassy patch where your friends danced, some of them taking a quick break flat on their backs. "This is Ellie, we've been friends for a long time."

The group acknowledges her, mainly with waves and giggles but Jimmy goes the extra mile, standing up and extending a lanky arm "It's good to meet you."

"This is my best friend in the world forever!" You sling an arm around Dina, calling for Ellie's attention. Dina leaned into your touch, a drowsy smile on her face. "Ellie can actually travel through time."

You tell the group and they all look toward her, eyes squinted and bodies relaxed. Ellie didn't mind, knowing that they were too high to believe her by the time they sobered up even if they did she could go back and fix it. She nods along "It's true and she's immortal." Ellie points at you.

"No, you're not," Dina pokes you.

"I believe it," Weston speaks up from his spot on the ground where he lies with Patricia, her ash blonde hair strewn across the grass "I have never seen this woman so who am I to not believe her." As opposed to the majority of the group whose pupils were dilated from LSD, the whites of his eyes had turned red from the herbs he smoked.

Stevie is still dancing, her loose white dress rustly so slightly in the gentle breeze. Dawn dances with her, her hair the colour of fire tied neatly into two twin braids, she doesn't care about anything besides the way her feet carry her.

"One time I cut out my own heart and I ate it," You giggle, head resting on Dina. Her face was sunkissed, accentuating her freckles. She had let her dark hair run loose.

Jimmy looks at you, through his sunglasses. He has Ellie sitting next to him, his ebony skin a contrast to her paleness. "How does that work?"

"I slice my skin open and then I break my ribs, rip out my heart and shove it in my mouth.

He looks you up and down "Ribs look fine to me."

"I can show you," You look around to find something to cut you open, and you see a large rock with some smaller ones stacked around it. You walk over, all eyes on you as you put your wrist on top of the larger rock.

In your free hand, you pick up a smaller jagged rock that fits into the claw of your hand. You raise the jagged stone up and smash it into your wrist with little effort after the strength you have gathered over the years.

Dina lets out a scream watching your arm bend out of shape, wrist twisted so your hand doesn't sit where it's supposed to. You bring the rock up and slam it down again, making sure to dig into your skin, flesh mangled up on your arm and you brought it up to show everyone. Jimmy scrambled to his feet in a panic, racing through the crowd to find a medic.

"No, it's healing!" You shout after Jimmy. Weston looks at your mangled arm with wide eyes before buckling onto his knees and throwing up. Dawn and Stevie pause their dancing, Dawn froze in fear and Stevie backed away. "Do you see?" You shake your arm trying to show them that the wound was fixing itself.

-

"I can show you," You look around to find something to cut you open, and then your eyes settle on Ellie who shakes her head at you. You knew this meant she had seen the outcome and it wasn't good so you decide to drop the topic, plopping yourself onto the grass.

"Don't you wanna dance?" Dina asks.

You shake your head. You had reserved dancing for Jesse who you knew you wouldn't see again, not even in death since it would never come for you.

The day had eventually faded away into night, the concert still rang loud but you stayed far in the back of the crowd, lying on the ground with Ellie and looking at the stars. "I'm really sorry for everything you've been through," Ellie breaks the pure hum of music.

"I'm really sorry for everything you've seen," You answer. "I thought the war would finally be over," You murmur, thinking back to Jesse and the idea you conjured up of his corpse; you imagined him to be blown into a million pieces, a thought that never left your mind no matter how high you got or what you drank you knew it wouldn't end. You had thought World War two to be the last until the Vietnam War plagued the news and began to pluck men from neighbourhoods all around.

"It doesn't end, not ever," Ellie tells you.

"You should fix it."

"I've tried," There's a hint of sadness in her voice "If one ends, a new one will always spring up."

The two of you fall silent for a moment, heads side to side but you don't look at one another, only the stars. There's something so calming yet unnerving about the inky black sky; it reminded you of the nothingness that consumed you on the night you had given up your mortality.

"I don't want to live," The words fall from your lips so effortlessly. The LSD was wearing off, leaving you to be in control of your thoughts and your body all over again.

"I know."

"I've seen more men die than I can count."

"I know."

"I can't seem to hate you though."

Ellie turns her head to look at you and you do the same. Her green eyes are shining beneath the moonlight, just the shadow of her face illuminated. You lean forward just the slightest and connect your lips into a kiss, Ellie seems surprised but she doesn't fight it.

Once you pull away, you can only seem to make out one sentence "Don't leave this time."

Greenport Village, America - April - 2011

A handshake of carbon monoxide, no alarms and no surprises.

As the late afternoon sun cast its golden hues over the rolling hills of the Greenport, you made your way home planning a quick visit to the beach before doing so, arms laden with bags filled with groceries from the quaint village market, arms laden with provisions that you had no need for, save to fill the endless hours of your existence.

You walked with your timeless beauty that seemed to shimmer like a mirage in the fading light, you had called the Greenport Village home for six years now, finding a position there as a history teacher, your favourite job of the hundreds you had worked. Though the passing decades had left their mark on the landscape and its inhabitants, you remained unchanged, frozen in time like a moth preserved in amber.

You still struggled to come to terms with the fact that death would never take you though Ellie tried to make it easier. All these years and it never felt any better, it was still difficult to swallow the truth.

There was no solace to be found in the quiet beauty of the world around you. For two thousand years, you had walked the earth with Ellie, you, a solitary figure doomed to wander the endless expanse of time and her, the shadow that trailed behind and mocked your existence without intending to. You had seen kingdoms rise and fall, witnessed the birth and death of countless generations, and yet you remained unchanged, untouched by the ravages of time. All of the identification you had forged didn't make you into who you said you were.

Walking towards the beach, you could've sworn that you recognized every face you saw but that was just how long you had lived; everyone you've ever known slowly bleeding into everyone else like a suicide cleanup. You would outlive the kids playing on the seesaw and the toddlers scrambling around them, you would outlive their offspring too and every other generation after that.

Eventually, you found yourself in your usual spot in the park, an old beaten bench outlooking the sea where sunlight danced off of it like sparks.

After the seventies, you had accepted that the land was your only friend, ever-changing just like you, yet it remained miraculously intact. You had Ellie, on occasion, though calling her a friend would be a loose term. You weren't sure what she was but butterflies and maggots had a field in your intestines every time you thought of all of the things she knew about you and how little you know of her.

The lack of trust always lingered. You never knew if she had gone back in time and forced you to forget about something she said or something you asked. How many times had you begged her to go back to the beginning and let you ebb away with old age?

As you sat in silent contemplation, lost in the labyrinth of your centuries-old thoughts, a frail figure approached, leaning heavily on a gnarled cane. It was an old woman, her face etched with the lines of a life well-lived, her eyes twinkling with a spark of something you couldn't make out.

You shifted slightly on the bench, making room for her unexpected companion. The old woman, her steps slow and deliberate, lowered herself onto the seat beside you, exhaling a contented breath as she settled into place.

For a long moment, you sat in companionable silence, each lost in your own reverie. "You must be an old soul," The woman next to you speaks, covered in sunspots and wrinkles, grey and white streaks all through her black hair. "When you're old all you want to do is sit and stare at the scenery."

"Yeah," You give her a tight-lipped smile "I'm mature at heart."

The woman furrows her eyebrows for a moment, deep in thought as her brown eyes rake over every single one of your features, studying you like scripture. "I'm sorry," She shakes her head "You just look like a girl I used to know."

"Really?" You ask and then it strikes you like lightning. Despite the withering of her face, it's the same bump of her nose, the freckles across her skin, the curve of her jaw, it was your Dina.

She waves it off "She's long gone by now, haven't heard from her in years." Dina looks off to the ocean, the screech of kids is far off in the distance. Her face drops just the slightest at the mention of this.

"Who was she?" You press, just wanting to hear Dina's voice after decades of replaying memories and performing autopsies on expired conversations like you could somehow revive them and the people who came with.

"Oh, um," Dina hadn't expected you to carry on the conversation, people had stopped caring about what she had to say when time hit her and dragged her skin down. "A friend of mine, way back before you were born. If you could see her, gosh," Dina mutters, salt and pepper hair braided down her back "You could've been her twin."

Your heart was slamming against your ribcage like it wanted to be set free. "Uh, I'm sorry if this seems odd," You say with a shakey breath "But could you just keep talking? I don't want to have to think right now."

Her eyebrows knit together just the slightest, concern growing with your words "About what?"

"Just," You shrug "Reminisce maybe," Nearby there were birds on a wire chirping, it felt like every one of them was talking to you, beedy eyes prying into your veins "I just like stories."

Dina slips a small smile, her teeth not quite as white as they used to be but her smile holds all of the comforts nonetheless "My stories are no good, I'm sure you'll have better ones when you're my age."

You shake your head on impulse, grasping the pieces of her that you still held close to your ancient heart. "No, I don't think I'll get there," You aren't trying to ramble yet here you are, scrambling to reconnect the two of you like this is a film that ends well.

Her smile falters, trying to comprehend the odd woman beside her, beginning to contemplate that you're high on something, suspicion growing more solid with each shake of your hands and blink of your watery eyes. "Are you alright?" She lowers her voice.

"Yup," You nod, already feeling her slip through the space between your fingers all over again like she had years prior. At this point in your life, you should've been a better liar but you just sat there, tears rolling down silently while you forced your teeth to bear a smile. You wanted to tell her how nice it was to see her and remind her of all of the days and nights alike you had wasted on each other.

It was easy to see how she didn't believe you, from your trembling hands gripping your thighs in an attempt to steady them to the manufactured smile you wore on your face, sadness seeping from your pores. Unlike Dina, you felt that age had made you no wiser. Years you spent studying and chasing careers just to end up faking death and restarting all over again from scraps, losing a little piece of yourself every time.

She places one of her calloused and withered hands over yours where it grasps to the fabric over your thighs. She meets your gaze "Whatever it is, you'll be okay."

Something inside you shifts, then cracks, and crumbles completely. The agonizing pain accumulated by thousands of years spilled out of you in the form of tears as salty as the ocean spray that simmered on your skin. It was like every awful thing you had ever felt was going to burst through the gaps of your teeth.

There was entirely too much going on in your head when you inched forward and wrapped your arms around Dina, chin resting on her neck. It took a minute but you felt her bony hands rest on your back while she returned the gesture, albeit confused.

You were glad you got to see her again. Every time someone passes through your life you think of all of the things you would do to speak to them one more time. You had finally been given a blessing, something that balanced out the bitterness of eternity. "I'm sorry, Dina."

The second you spoke you regretted it. With what little grace you have left you manage to pry yourself up, sheepishly standing to your feet and trying not to wobble like a colt. Dina's bygone face held more confusion than ever, mouth slightly ajar as she watched you with wide eyes like a doe. "Honey, I think you have the wrong person."

Your feet move faster than your head, not leaving Dina behind a second time but a complete stranger. You had only been sick with nostolgia. Panic shot through your veins like box cutters trying to find their way to your heart, which they surely would.

Your day's shopping had been left behind at the bench along with all of the dreams you once etched into indigo skies and sandy shores, now all they did was rot at your feet, at least they had the pleasure of aging.

The feeling of screaming was creeping up your body in shivers, you hugged yourself all the way home, swivelling your head every minute to be sure that ghosts weren't following you but they always had a way of sneaking up on you.

What purpose did you serve? Anything mildly important you had ever done was lost to time, gone, forgotten. You didn't get the luxury of having children with the one you love, you didn't even have anyone to love. You drag your mud-covered heels all the way up the steps of your stoop slamming the door behind you.

With trembling hands and a mind consumed by anguish, you began to tear through her home with frenzied desperation, your movements fueled by a maelstrom of emotions too powerful to contain, the urge-no, the need to die. You ripped books from their shelves, their pages fluttering like wounded birds as they scattered across the floor in a flurry. You overturned furniture with reckless abandon, the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass echoing through the empty rooms like a orchestra of destruction.

You open your cabinets, dragging your hands behind all of the ceramic and glass, pushing it to the ground and watching them shatter at your feet. What need did you have for a fridge full of food when you don't have to eat? Or a feathered bed when you don't need to sleep, you can't even bring yourself to sleep these days.

Each crash and thud seemed to reverberate through your empty, a haunting reminder of the pain and turmoil that threatened to consume her from within. Memories, once cherished and dear, now lay shattered and broken like all of the ambition you should have forgotten, fragments of an overwhelming life that had slipped through your fingers like grains of sand.

With a guttural cry of anguish, you sank to your knees amidst the wreckage, body racked with sobs that seemed to tear at your very core. You clutched at your hair in despair, her fingers intertwined in the tangled strands like thorns in a bed of roses.

Your eyes snagged on the cabinet below your sink. You crawl over to it, shards of shattered glassware sticks into the soft palms of your hands, porcelain china cutting up your knees. It didn't even feel like anything, you just wanted to feel something.

You pull the cabinet open pushing the other cleaning supplies aside and grabbing the ammonia and bleach. Twisting the caps of and discarding them among the wreckage, you take a deep breath before raisng the bottle of bleach to your lips and drinking, the harsh and ancrid taste making you cringe but you kept swallowing until you could feel a burning in your throat, taking a quick shallow breath and then doing the same with the ammonia, tears brimming your eyes and hitting the few beams of sunlight that struck through your closed curtains like the glimmer from the ocean.

God, it tasted rancid but for a moment, a brief one it had felt like death or something similar. Mouth feeling like plastic throat burnt to rubber you drank until both bottles were empty. You pressed yourself as flat as you could on the floor, soaking in the last moments of feeling as your insides contorted before stillness.

All of the cells you killed were fixing themselves up and after a minute, you felt numb like you tended to. You hiccup, body jerking upwards just the slightest, a spat of vomit now dribbling at you chin.

Deep inside of you, you knew Ellie would be back to fix your wreckage and leave you oblivious to the destruction you not only caused but craved. She would just keep going back until you help something on the spectrum of happy.

Define happy.

Smiling?

Joking?

Laughing?

Not digging through the dictionary to find new ways to try to kill yourself?

That last one sounds right.

"Ellie, I can't do this anymore!" You screeched hoarsely to the empty room, despite the freckled girl being nowhere in sight. "Can you please let me die now!"

You call for her until your throat is as dry as sandpaper, hollow words scraping themselves dry before they can leave your mouth. Your voice is reduced to a pathetic rasp and you pray that she regrets stealing blood from your veins.

"Please!" You scream, fingers gripping onto the marble counter to haul yourself up. You stumble for a moment as you adjust to the jagged shards you stand on. "I know we've done this before but you'll just lie and make me sound like I'm fucking crazy," A sob falls from your mouth like a howl.

You pull a long kitchen knife from the knife block, and watch the silver blade glimmer, a warped reflection of yourself staring back at you. With little hesitation, you plummet it into your stomach, again and again until your midriff is a mangled fleshy mess. Blood pooling out of you like cherry wine. Nothing new.

"Asshole!" You cry out "I know you're hiding around here somewhere!" Your mind immediately went to how many times this situation had played out, on this same day. Maybe you had done something worse.

Lungs burning from screaming, cries throbbing inside of your throat, you have one last idea that had to have happened before. "Can you please stop?"

You turn to face the voice, hair matted, clothes torn and bloody, vomit from makeshift mustard gas sliding down your chin to your neck. You drop the knife, it clatters against the tiles "No," You approach her, each step more certain than the last. "You need to stop, this isn't right."

"I know," She says, face stone-cold a hint of irritation in her tone. She's back in her grey hoodie and jeans, finally, she fits into the time period.

"If you know then why have I been pleading with you to go back to the start and stop me from dying in the first place and making that deal?" You're inches away from her, voice carrying challenge if not bitterness. "Like I've asked you over and over again." Your voice is unsteady like it's being crushed beneath the weight of the world.

"Because I love you," She says, raising one hand to cup your face.

If it were for the chemicals flattering through the air making you nauseous, this act alone almost brought you to your knees with sickness. You don't bother to move her hand though, just shuddering under the touch. "Do you really?"

She nods, gaze softening "Yes."

"Then you'll go back and you'll fix all of this right?"

Her hand falls from its resting spot on your face. "You want to forget?"

"No, I want to die." Silence falls between you. Each rise and fall of your chest shaky and ragged "You keep forgetting that I'm a person, I'm not a concept you've curated in your head." It was hard to find yourself being gentle to her. It was hard to feel bad for her in general with how she treated your entire being as something for her to tune in and out of as she pleased.

Ellie takes a breath in, eyes unwavering from yours "Okay."

"Okay?" You don't believe her "You'll fix this and you'll leave me alone and let me live a regular life without knowing you?" You breathe the moment in, the hopes that this will be over soon. The taste of heartache and war could be washed away from your mouth, you wouldn't meet Joel and watch his daughter die in front of him or meet Jesse and fall in love. The humiliation to be made of rotting flesh then it hits you- how many times have you had this conversation? "I want you to promise-

Athens, Greece- October- 412 BC

I prayed for your breath right here in the shallows.

Rain splashes against the skin of your face in lands of ancient Greece, where the winds themselves whispered stories of gods and heroes, neither of which you were. You were nothing more than a frightened woman running away from an unforgiving husband in the dead of night where your quickened heartbeat falls in rhythm to the ocean which is almost as angry as the storm that roars above.

Carefully you dodge the jagged rocks sticking out from the sand, you had memorized each and every one after days of burning your skin on the shores. Water surged against the rocks near your feet, white froth sizzling in the waves retreating like it was trying to drag you in and take you for its own.

Your heavy breathing was devoured by the heavy rain and cracks of lighting, the sounds of thunder so deep it was like Zeus himself was stomping in the clouds. Despite the night being dark you trusted the moonlight that glimmered off of the ocean to guide you. You have nothing more than the soaking wet clothes on your back, jewelry to sell, and the drachmas you had stolen from your husband tucked away safely in a wool tagari purse.

This time around, Ellie doesn't intervene. She watched you, panic-stricken, fumble over wet sand and glide past slick rocks. Trying to outrun your fears of wasting your life.

As you reached the edge of a rocky outcrop, your leather sandal caught on a slick stone, sending you tumbling to the ground. With a sickening thud, your head struck against the unforgiving rock, and the world around you spun into darkness.

You were dead. Body limp on the plethora of rocks, the tide slowly lulling over your body until Ellie kneeled down next to your body and gingerly guided it into the ocean for it to take. The blood from the wound in the back of your head is sucked away into the sand. She watched your corpse drift out and get pulled down, all she needed was another lifetime with you. You didn't know how miserable you were with her anyway. 

This is not a story about love.

A/N: guys I’m breaking hiatus to post this bc I realised it’s been hanging in my drafts for a century (century haha) Anyways I actually hate this but it felt too long to scrap so thanks for reading.

Perm tag list: @ellslvr @gold-dustwomxn @bready101 @whenlostinthedarkness @veeveeisgay @vqxen

[notsofrozt]

So, for y'all "S2 Jayce meets S1 Viktor" hungry folks, here's a list of 5 of the bookmarks I've been collecting (for you specially @maiawhimsicalt) in no particular order and with no particular comentary, my braincells are on strike rn:

1. Of Memories and Tomorrows by Lieyantosh

Post-Season 2 Jayce and Season 1 Viktor, the grief of having lost your soulmate while having to look at his younger version who doesn’t even know you, the endless exhaustion of being a second-hand love and also science.

This fic has changed something in my I cannot describe, and if anyone here even remotely likes Arcane (or even if you don't know the series at all, it's that well written) y'all should read it right know.

You didn't hate me because of what my future self did,” Viktor said, feeling distinctly pathetic. There was a certain vulnerability in this, like he was opening up his ribcage for Jayce to see. “You hate me because I'm not him. Because you came back. And he didn't.”

2. the future came undone by Lieyantosh

Instead of appearing several months after the wild rune took him, Jayce lands in the past and decides to take out Viktor before he can turn into the monster he saw in the future.

This author is just *chef kiss*

3. intertwined, sewn together by lamoureg

Just as soon as the dance begins, it’s over.

In the silver, the faint mist rays of light, he can make out a face. One that’s achingly familiar, one he knows like the back of his hand, yet isn’t familiar with whatsoever. A man, bronze skin pallid and devoid of the life Viktor is so used to seeing. Shaggy dark hair hanging in curtains around his face — a face littered with cuts and bruises, stained with dirt and soot. Heavy set brows and eyes wide in shock.

Rather inappropriately, Viktor’s first thought is oh, fuck. And his second. And his third.

Because staring back at him is Jayce.

If you read this with Jinx and Ekko's song playing in the background you're going to cry.

4. You’re starting to look really weird by anónimo

Viktor lays awake, listening to the steady breathing beside him. The breathing of a man sleeping on his husband’s side of the bed, in his husband’s clothes, with his husband’s face, but who is most certainly not his husband.

This one has a very original concept: the reunion from Viktor's POV. Older Jayce got Ekko'd into his other self's body, so there's a stranger inhabiting his partner. It delves into that whole psychological horror aspect. I love it.

5. Stay Your Pretty Eyes On Course by Neibba

“I do not recall telling you my name.” Viktor stated matter-of-factly. “Yet you know it. Have we met?” Yes. Many times. Practically lived together inside their lab, but he couldn’t tell Viktor that. No, this Viktor had no idea who Jayce really was, and he intended on keeping it that way.

After the Hexcore collapsed, Jayce gets sent back to where it all started, the day he met Viktor, but Viktor seems to have no recollection of him. What happens when Jayce gets another chance, knowing what he knows now.

This author is a writing machine powered by glorious evolution and brainworms. I love this fic, its updated almost daily, and the way the relationship between the two of them develops is wonderful.

I have many, many more saved, especially one shots of S2!Jayce having all kinds of breakdown as soon as he sees S1!Viktor. I'll make another list later when deadlines aren't breathing on my neck.

I hope you like it!!!

[buttercandy16]

Asylum

Chapter Four: Enemy of my Enemy

PAIRING(s): Psychiatrist!Agatha Harkness x Patient!Reader x Inmate!Rio Vidal

SUMMARY: Wrongfully imprisoned, Reader becomes the obsession of Agatha, a cunning psychiatrist, and Rio, a fiery inmate. Together, they’ll ensure she’s theirs—forever.

WARNING(s): Obsession, Manipulation, Violence, Confinement, Madness, Dubcon, and Betrayal.

Rio's whispered promise to free you played in your mind like a scratched record for the rest of the day, the words insidious in their persistence. You didn’t want to believe her—couldn't trust her—but the possibility of escape, no matter how fragile, made your breath catch in your throat.

Could you really leave? And, more terrifying, would either of them let you?

By the time night fell, the edges of your resolve had begun to crumble. Your small cell felt more like a tomb, the walls pulsing with the weight of what lay ahead. The conflicting forces of Rio and Agatha loomed over you, as though the air between them left no room for you to breathe.

Then came the night Rio made good on her word—or so she claimed.

The clock had just struck midnight when your door creaked open.

“Psst.”

You jolted upright to see Rio’s unmistakable silhouette leaning in the doorway, her wild grin catching what little light filtered into the room. She looked untamed, even more so than usual, her hair messy, her eyes practically glittering with adrenaline.

“Get up, mi amor. Time’s up.”

You hesitated, instinct screaming at you to stay still, to stay quiet. If you left with her, this wouldn’t end well—Agatha would see to that.

Still, the thought of escape pulled at you like a siren song.

“Rio,” you whispered sharply, clutching the blanket around your knees. “This is insane. What are you—”

“Shut up and move,” she hissed, her voice low but fierce as she slipped into the cell. She crouched beside you, her fingers gripping your arm tightly. “We’re doing this. Now.”

Her intensity was suffocating, her presence taking up every inch of the confined space.

“Even if you don’t believe me, what’s keeping you here?” she asked, her lips brushing against your ear in the dark. “Her? You think she’s going to save you?”

Your breath hitched, your mind racing through every tangled interaction you’d had with Agatha over the past weeks. As terrifying as she was, there was safety in the familiarity of her controlled demeanor. But the memory of her possessive whispers and the subtle threats she weaved in her kindness still sent shivers down your spine.

“Let me save you, cariño.” Rio's voice softened now, tinged with what almost sounded like genuine affection.

And maybe that was why you found yourself swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. Maybe that was why, against your better judgment, you allowed Rio to take your hand.

The corridors of the asylum were eerily silent as Rio led you through them, her steps swift and silent on the cold floor.

"How do you know where to go?" you whispered, glancing nervously over your shoulder.

She smirked without looking back. "Unlike you, I’m not new to this place. I know its secrets."

Her confidence rattled you as much as it reassured you, the fine line between competence and recklessness blurring with every step she took.

But before long, that line snapped.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The voice sent ice through your veins. Agatha stepped out of the shadows at the far end of the corridor, her dark eyes cutting through the dim light like razors. Her usual composure was cracked just enough to show the rage simmering beneath her surface.

Rio froze, but only for a moment, before letting out a sharp laugh. "Of course you couldn’t just mind your own business, doc. Always watching, always scheming."

You stepped back instinctively, your heart pounding in your chest as Agatha's gaze slid to you. Her lips curved into a smile, but it wasn’t warm or reassuring—it was predatory.

"Step away from her, Rio," Agatha commanded, her voice dangerously calm.

"Not a chance," Rio shot back, shifting her body protectively in front of you. "I told you she’s not your toy to keep. She’s coming with me."

The tension in the air was suffocating as the two women locked eyes, the silent war between them more terrifying than any shouting match. You could feel their conflicting wills tugging at you like invisible chains, each pulling you closer to their side.

But you weren’t a pawn—or, at least, you didn’t want to be.

"Enough!" you snapped, your voice trembling but firm as you stepped forward.

Both women froze, their gazes snapping to you in unison.

"I can't—I can’t do this," you stammered, clutching your head as the weight of their obsession crushed you from both sides. "You’re both insane, and you’re dragging me down with you!"

Rio’s face twisted in frustration, while Agatha tilted her head, her dark hair framing her sharp features.

"Darling," Agatha began, her voice syrupy with forced calm, "you don’t know what you’re saying. You’re overwhelmed, but you’ll understand soon enough. You belong here—with me.”

“No,” Rio growled, cutting her off and stepping closer to you. “You don’t belong here at all, cariño. Let me take you away from her, from this place.”

"You think she’ll last a day out there?" Agatha snapped, her mask of calm fracturing entirely. "She’s fragile. The world will eat her alive without someone to protect her—someone like me."

“I’m right here, doc.” Rio’s voice was sharp enough to draw blood. “And I’m not letting her rot in your twisted little fantasy."

You felt dizzy, their words washing over you in an endless tide of possessiveness and control. Escape was no longer the question—survival was.

The choice was ripped away from you in the next moment. Before you could speak, Rio lunged.

She moved faster than you thought possible, closing the distance between herself and Agatha with predatory precision. For a moment, you thought she might actually win—until you saw the glint of silver in Agatha’s hand.

The syringe plunged into Rio’s neck before she could react, her wild grin faltering as her legs buckled beneath her.

"You fool," Agatha hissed, catching Rio’s falling body with chilling ease. "Did you really think you could win this game?"

You backed away, terror clawing at your throat as Agatha turned her attention back to you.

"Now," she said, smoothing her rumpled coat as though nothing had happened, "let’s get you back where you belong."

Her calm words were the last thing you heard before darkness closed in around you.

When you woke, your body felt heavy, like you'd been pulled from quicksand. The world swam into focus slowly, the familiar dim light of the infirmary's ceiling above you. A sharp sting in your arm drew your attention downward to find an IV taped against your skin.

Panic surged as the fog of sedation lifted, and the fragmented memories of last night crashed down on you. Rio’s body crumpling as Agatha overpowered her, the clinical calm in Agatha’s tone as she promised to “fix” everything.

Your throat tightened. Had she drugged you, too? How long had you been out?

The sound of voices filtered into the room, growing clearer as the door swung open. You didn’t need to look to know who they belonged to.

“She’s mine, Rio,” Agatha’s voice was sharp but level, though it carried an unmistakable tension. “You nearly ruined everything.”

Rio’s laugh was ragged, tinged with defiance despite its weakness. “Oh, yeah? And what’s your excuse, doc? You don’t think chaining her here with your manipulative crap will snap her eventually?”

You turned your head just enough to see them. Agatha’s posture was as stiff and upright as always, though her dark eyes burned with barely-contained rage. Rio, in contrast, looked disheveled and furious, leaning against the wall for support, a hand pressed to her neck where the syringe had struck.

“I wasn’t the one trying to haul her through the asylum like some thief in the night,” Agatha spat. “You’re reckless. No plan, no care for what would’ve happened if you were caught. Do you think security wouldn’t have thrown her in solitary for weeks after your stunt?”

“And your plan is so much better?” Rio shot back, stepping closer despite her visible weakness. “What, smother her until she loves you back? At least I wasn’t drugging her into compliance.”

“She would never survive outside of here,” Agatha snapped, her control slipping for the briefest moment. “You may think you’re the lesser evil, but what you tried would have destroyed her.”

The weight of their conversation fell heavily on you, the realization settling like a stone in your gut: they were arguing over you like you were some prize to be won. Not a person, not a victim of circumstance, but a thing—their thing.

You’d been nothing more than their pawn this entire time.

The truth ignited something deep within you, a flame that burned past the sedation weighing on your limbs. You clenched your hands, determination coalescing with your fear.

If neither of them would let you go, you’d have to take matters into your own hands.

The next few days blurred as you began quietly planting seeds of misdirection. Every word you said to either of them was careful, calculated—designed to sow discord between the two. It didn’t take much effort; their hatred for one another was barely concealed beneath the surface.

Agatha cornered you in the therapy room on the second day, her gaze softer than usual.

“You look tired, darling,” she said, her voice low and soothing as she sat across from you. “But don’t worry. Things are going to be different soon. I’ll keep you safe from her.”

You nodded numbly, knowing better than to argue. “She scares me,” you whispered, a faint quiver added to your tone. “She... she keeps talking about getting me out of here, but... I don’t know if I trust her.”

The faint twitch of satisfaction in Agatha’s expression didn’t escape your notice. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing yours in a way that made you shiver.

“You don’t need to worry about her,” she murmured. “I’ll handle Rio.”

Later that evening, you sought Rio out, finding her in the common room, idly twirling a fork between her fingers like a weapon. When she saw you, her expression softened, though her grin remained sharp-edged.

“Well, if it isn’t my little escape artist,” she teased, gesturing for you to sit beside her.

You hesitated but obliged, lowering your voice to a whisper as you leaned in. “She’s watching me, Rio. Every move I make. I think... I think she knows I’m still considering leaving.”

Rio’s grin faltered, her jaw tightening. “Of course she is,” she said bitterly. “That witch has her claws in deep, doesn’t she?”

“She told me she’d stop you if you tried anything again,” you added, your voice soft but urgent. “I... I’m scared of what she might do to you, Rio.”

Her eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, her fury seemed to melt away, replaced by something softer—something raw.

“Let her try,” Rio muttered, her voice low but vicious. “But she won’t win.”

What you hadn’t counted on was how far the two of them would go to maintain their hold on you.

It started small—subtle shifts in their behavior. Agatha spent more time with you, her demeanor bordering on saccharine as she reassured you that everything would be alright if you stayed under her care. Rio grew increasingly protective, pulling you into hushed conversations where she ranted about Agatha’s manipulative control.

But then came the night they both broke.

You were woken by the sound of voices raised in anger just outside your cell.

“You idiot!” Agatha’s voice was sharp, her words slicing through the silence like a blade. “Do you have any idea what your little games are doing to her?”

“Oh, spare me the concern,” Rio shot back. “At least I don’t treat her like some fragile doll you can lock in a cabinet.”

“Because dragging her into chaos is so much better?” Agatha sneered. “You’re reckless, unhinged—she doesn’t need that.”

“She doesn’t need you either,” Rio snarled.

The sound of a struggle followed, something crashing against the wall.

“I’m not letting you win,” Agatha hissed.

For a moment, silence reigned, heavy and suffocating.

Then came Agatha’s next words, quieter but venomous: “If either of us pushes too hard, she’ll break. We’ll lose her. Is that what you want?”

The shift in tone sent chills down your spine.

“If you think I’m teaming up with you, you’re crazier than they say I am,” Rio said, though the venom in her voice faltered.

Agatha’s response was disturbingly calm: “We don’t have a choice.”

Your blood ran cold as realization dawned. You weren’t escaping. You were being pulled even deeper into their web.

And now? Now they were working together to keep you there.

_-_-_

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[debonairprincesposts]

Frankenstein Lookin’ Ass Abomination Thing

Summary: Reader and Jason were just taking a light walk after patrol and come across something horrifying. Jason is terrified.

The streets of Gotham were cloaked in darkness as you and Jason navigated an unfamiliar alleyway, the air thick with tension. The distant sounds of the city faded into an eerie silence, heightening your senses.

Suddenly, you spotted something grotesque out of the corner of your eye.

“What the fuck is that?!” you yelled, your heart racing.

Jason turned to you, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You pointed into the shadows, panic gripping you. “That Frankenstein looking ass abomination thing! How do you not see it?!”

Jason squinted, trying to focus. “Wher—Oh my god! What the hell is that?!” His voice shifted from confusion to alarm as he finally saw the creature lurching toward you, its mismatched limbs twisting in an unnatural way.

“That’s what I’ve been tryna tell you, dawg!” you shot back, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Dawg? I’m your boyfriend. The fuck you mean ‘dawg’!” he exclaimed, incredulous, despite the danger looming ahead.

“Now is not the time for this, dammit!” you snapped, heart pounding as the creature drew closer.

“Kill it!!!” Jason shouted, his instincts kicking in.

“You’re the one with the gun! You kill it!” you replied, frustration mingling with fear.

Without hesitation, Jason threw the gun to you, a wild look in his eyes. “Well, now you’re the one with the gun! You kill it!”

You fumbled for a moment, catching the weapon just in time. “Seriously?!”

The creature’s grotesque form advanced menacingly. With your heart racing, you took a deep breath, aiming the gun with shaky hands. “Okay, okay… just stay behind me!”

Jason moved into position beside you, his presence grounding you. “You’ve got this. Just focus.”

With a steadying breath, you pulled the trigger, the loud bang echoing through the alley. The creature staggered back, and you glanced at Jason, who wore a proud, albeit worried, grin.

“The hell are you grinning for! Since when were you a pussy?!” You turn to him, all furious and maybe a little terrified. Since when did the Red Hood hide behind you for anything?

“Since alien looking things started jump scaring me!” He cries, looking absolutely ready to throw up from the thing you just shot.

“Bullshit! You’re Red Fucking Hood! You deal with this kinda shit on a monthly basis!” You argue, feeling exasperated. This stuff shouldn’t even phase him, but here we are.

“I’m tired, okay?! And I really don’t wanna get night terrors from stuff like that! My brain does it for me already!” Poor baby.

“Let’s just get out of here,” you sigh, disbelief and exhaustion at the ridiculousness of the situation flooding your voice as you lowered the gun.

You took a hold of his arm and bolted in the opposite direction of the weird alien thing. Its corpse is still there….. You’ll just call Nightwing for a cleanup…. You just hope he doesn’t faint on the spot once he sees the nightmare inducing creature dead in an alleyway. And its blood was green. Ew.