#theme: betrayal

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Vis-à-Vis-à-Vis by Vukovich Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: E Word Count: 49k Harry's assignment was simple. Close out Draco Malfoy's missing persons case so he can be declared dead. But who's making withdrawals from Malfoy's vaults? How is a death omen-turned-Unspeakable involved? Is an organization known as the Moirai to blame? Harry brushes it off until he can't. Until The Prophet is flooded with sightings of dead people. Until Robards throws himself on his sword. Until Ron turns on his own family. Until Harry scarcely trusts his own reflection in the mirror and trusts the stranger in his bed even less. Until all that stands between war and peace is Harry, a name plate, a stadium of murderers, and Draco Malfoy. God save the Ministry.

[likeaahostage]

sitting at the bus stop

and i'm thinking of you

as always

–as if you were ever really mine

–as if any of it was real

–as if you think of me

but hey, maybe you do

i don't know, how could i?

i can't read your mind,

and you made that clear

on that cold october evening

you told me it was a date.

it wasn't.

it was a way of twisting the knife

oh, stop it.

don't try to lie.

we both know you stabbed me long ago

you pretended to cry

pretended that it affected you

pretended that you hadn't already moved on

i suppose i had my suspicions

but of course i brushed them under the rug,

i know now that i was naive

but i didn't want to be clingy,

you're allowed to have friends just like i am.

but were differeces between my friends and yours,

because yours weren't really friends,

were they?

just like i wasn't really the love of your life

and now i'm in the bus,

there's two old ladies holding hands and laughing about something no one else understands

and maybe,

if you had meant it,

that could've been us.

but I don't think i'll ever have that life

because i can't trust like i used to,

and who's fault is that?

i think we both know the answer

[expiravitae]

Bring Me The Horizon, True friends

E. Pauline Johnson / Tekahionwake, Ojistoh

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

Thunder saga? More like Betrayal saga, am I right?

[painfully-unoriginal]

it's like burning...

[aventurineswife]

So, reader decided to play mouthwashing due to its positive reviews and how it became popular enough to gain fandom. Maybe Ratio, Aventurine, Kafka, Blade, Silver Wolf, Jing Yuan and Jade decided to watch reader as they play? How would they react to this game's plot, it's characters and opinions?

HSR Characters Reaction On Mouthwashing

Tags: Kafka x Reader, Silver Wolf x Reader, Blade X Reader, Psychological Horror(not the actual fic but the game), Character Study, Game Reactions, Manipulation, Redemption, Survival, Dark Themes, Self-Destruction, Fractured Minds, Immortality.

Warnings: Strong Language, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Mental Health Issues, Psychological and Emotional Distress, Dark Themes of Suffering and Redemption, Self-Harm (Implied, Related to Destruction and Pain), Death and Death Imagery.

A/N: I haven't fully watched the whole gameplay, so this might a bit ooc but I do know some basics of what happened and all I gotta say is: I hate Jimbo‼️🧍‍♀️ also shortened this to three characters because tags won't take the others and I probably would've to write each characters individually for their reactions on each characters so sorry if this disappoints you :')

Kafka lounged gracefully on a velvet chair, her fingers tracing the rim of a crystal goblet filled with a dark, undisturbed liquid. The soft glow of the screen reflected off her red wine-colored hair as she observed the game unfolding before her. Mouthwashing, a psychological horror game that had garnered significant attention, was the latest entertainment distraction.

The game's plot piqued her interest immediately—stranded in space with dwindling supplies, a mutilated captain, and a fractured crew. Kafka found the dynamics between the characters fascinating. The tension, the fractured relationships, and the slow unraveling of sanity… it was like watching a perfectly woven web fall apart. She couldn’t help but admire how the developers had manipulated the player into becoming complicit in the escalating violence.

Her eyes narrowed at the unraveling storylines. "So, it’s a game of power and survival," she mused, sipping from her glass. "But with a touch of madness, I wonder if the creators intended to turn the player into the true villain. The emotions on display—guilt, betrayal, desperation—can only lead to one outcome: unraveling."

Kafka's attention shifted to the player’s choices. The tension between the crew members, the twisted relationships, and the manipulation—it felt familiar. She was a master of persuasion, a manipulator of emotions, but this game was something different. It made her wonder how the player would handle the sense of culpability for the crew’s inevitable downfall.

"I suppose," she mused, "this is what makes games like this addictive—the slow collapse, the control one has over others... It’s almost poetic, in a sense." She couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen as the final moments played out. Jimmy’s tragic end, believing he had redeemed himself by placing Curly in the cryopod, was something Kafka could relate to—a misguided belief in redemption after irreversible actions.

Turning her attention back to her glass, she smiled softly. "I would have handled it differently, of course. But I suppose that’s the beauty of these games—they allow us to explore paths we’d never dare take in reality."

Silver Wolf sat cross-legged on a low sofa, her sharp gaze fixed on the screen as the game's opening scene began. Her fingers twitched in a restless, almost instinctive motion—an impulse to hack, to break the system and rewrite the story as she often did. But she forced herself to focus, her curiosity about the game's mechanics outweighing her usual inclination to manipulate.

The dark and gritty atmosphere of Mouthwashing quickly drew her in. The world-building was minimal, but what Silver Wolf found compelling was how the game subtly forced players into moral corners with each choice. The crew’s personalities were rich with flaws, and the tension between them was palpable. Her fingers flexed, itching to dive deeper into the psychological undercurrents, analyzing each interaction like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

"Not bad," Silver Wolf muttered, studying the way the plot twisted and turned with each new revelation. The complexity of the relationships, particularly Jimmy's unraveling sanity, fascinated her. "It’s like hacking a system, but instead of codes, it’s the characters' minds. The more you understand them, the more control you have over the outcome."

She watched intently as the player made choices, her eyes narrowing when the characters’ fates grew darker. “Hmph, some people just can't handle the game. They don’t see the bigger picture. It’s all about the challenge, about beating the odds. It’s not just survival—it’s about making it through with your mind intact. The chaos is part of the fun.”

Silver Wolf tilted her head as she saw Jimmy make his fatal choices, his mental state breaking down under the weight of guilt and fear. "That's one way to go out," she muttered. "Pathetic, really. I would’ve used that moment to break free, to rewrite the whole scenario. But I suppose that's why it's not me playing."

She smirked, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Still, I can appreciate the game's challenge. It's not about winning, it's about seeing just how far you can push the boundaries before it all collapses. Just like the game of life." Her fingers idly tapped against her knee. "Maybe I’ll try a new strategy next time."

Blade stood motionless in the shadows, his piercing eyes fixed on the screen as Mouthwashing unfolded before him. The plot resonated in ways that few things did—survival at any cost, fractured relationships, and a constant drive toward self-destruction. His cracked sword, an eternal symbol of his fractured existence, almost felt lighter as he watched the characters’ struggles.

The captain, Curly, with his tragic fate, reminded Blade of his own cursed immortality. Mutilated, unable to speak or act, yet still alive—trapped in a state of perpetual suffering. Blade’s gaze lingered on the screen, his mind replaying his own endless cycle of death and rebirth. He saw in Curly a reflection of his own fate: an unending existence that could only end in violence and ruin.

"What a pitiful display," Blade muttered, his voice low and cold. "Surviving only to slowly lose everything—your sanity, your humanity… That’s what this game is, isn’t it? A slow descent into madness, with no way out."

He watched as the crew's relationships deteriorated, one by one. Jimmy’s spiral into madness, his attempts at redemption, and the eventual tragic end... it all felt too familiar to Blade. "How weak," he whispered, his fingers twitching at his side. "No honor, no purpose. Just mindless survival."

Yet, there was something in Jimmy's desperate final act that resonated with Blade. The desire to find release, to end it all after causing so much destruction. It was the same goal Blade had sought for so long: an end to the suffering, an escape from the endless pain of immortality.

As the game neared its conclusion, Blade’s eyes narrowed. "They think they can redeem themselves," he mused. "But redemption is a lie. There is only the inevitable conclusion—endless destruction." His hand brushed the hilt of his broken sword. "This is the true path. There is no escaping it."

The game ended, and Blade remained silent, his expression unreadable. "A fitting end," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But not my end."

[stardvstbby]

in my opinion, Yona of the Dawn is about love in its many forms; the love Yona has for her father and how that colors her perception of him as well as the world around her (familial), the love she has for Soowon and how she moves on from betrayal (crush), the love she has for Hak which provides a steady reassurance that encourages her to find herself (romantic), the love she has for the friends she makes throughout her journey and ‬how it gives her a reason to push forward even in the face of struggle (platonic), the love she has for not just the people of Kouka but humanity as a whole that inspires her to change so that she can be relied upon (community)

love is the dawn that brightens even the darkest of nights

[evergreen-endo]

WE PLAY THE SAME KEYS AT DIFFERENT TIMES — r. kaji.

cw: 18+ mdni, f! reader, car sex, spit. wc: 0.8k a/n: unedited. thought about him on my drive home. enjoy. 

You and Kaji can’t ever just listen to music in the car together.

He really never intended for it to be like this at first— but once it happened the first time, it’s all he could think of the next time he got in his car. It’s the same every time; inviting you for a ride to listen to a tune that’s stuck in his head, one he claims he can’t get rid of until he hears it again. But with him, it can never just be one song. There are too many that make him think of you these days, despite his best efforts to press skip on those in particular. 

He drives around until night falls, and you’ve both shared everything you’ve had on repeat this week. As he pulls onto the highway, the low vibration of his car picking up speed thrums against your thighs, much like the guitar blaring through his speakers. The low light of the city falls on his hands as he steers with practiced motion, heel of his palm flat against the leather. Warm yellow light trails along the veins on his arms, dragging your gaze wherever it touches. It highlights the rim of his features for a split second, long enough to see the way he side eyes you.

He lets out a huff, leaning back against the headrest to hide in the dark, though it’s futile. As he whirrs past the overheads, the light guides your gaze to his thighs, spread lazily even with one foot on the gas, and up, up, up to…oh. It’s only a second that you see it before light rushes past, and you wait on the next street light to illuminate him. It takes its time, stretching slowly over the same path, fingertips to forearms to biceps. A flit of your eyes down, and the car leers onto the exit ramp, light changing its course and missing the bulge of his cock entirely. 

The both of you huff for different reasons, you in disappointment, and him in relief. Not that you can hear each other over the music, anyway.

You spend the rest of the ride bopping your head along and picking up your phone to add songs you like to your own playlist. He’s grateful that there aren’t as many street lamps on the route to your place, so you miss the poorly hidden smirk that plays on his lips. 

Pulling into your driveway, he thumbs at his wheel to turn the music down just as that one song comes on. The one you fucked to the first time he did this; the reason he keeps inviting you to do this. He pauses, sighing, and turns it back up again. You tense, thighs crossing as you hear the click of his seatbelt and squeak of the leather as he reaches over to click yours, too.

Kaji’s breath always comes out ragged— grits his teeth and hisses through them even as his chest heaves for more oxygen. He’s got you bouncing on his cock in his backseat, guiding you to some extent, rough grip on your hips because he really can’t find it in himself to be gentle. Not when you move so perfectly you hit every goddamn beat. 

You’re the perfect melody to him— he has half a mind to lean forward and turn the music down in favor of the sound of you. Ass clapping against his thighs, wet squelching from between yours, breathy moans and gasps and keens. He wishes he could isolate every salacious layer of sound— to savor it, ingrain it into his memory to replay over and over.

The beat of the song slows, just before he knows it’ll build up again. He takes the break to wrap an arm around your waist, effectively slowing the motion of your hips. You whine as he forces you to grind your clit against him, and he hums, captivated.

Using his free hand, he twirls his fingers through your hair, wrapping the strands around to get enough hold to pull you forward, the abruptness ripping a gasp from you. Perfect. Twisting his lips up, he tilts his head forward, letting a glob of spit travel past his lips and drip down onto your awaiting tongue as he plants his feet firm on the ground. With all the leverage in the world, he bucks his hips up into you as the beat picks up again, the heavy weight of his thrusts knocking the air from your lungs. 

It gets hard to move when you squeeze around him, ticks him off that you’re slowing down his rhythm. He just wants to give you what you deserve and you’re always holding him back with that fucking grip of yours. At least, he thinks, you’re giving him a chance to readjust his hips, so he can hit that spongey spot inside you until the song closes out, until all that’s left is the sound of your shared panting.

[wyrdle]

Deceiver - "Why do you waste your time searching for a reason to live in this broken world? There's no point to it at all!"

Quick shuji ikutsuki doodle

[bikananjarrus]

if yord had lived he'd be leading the hunt for qimir and osha and we would've gotten the most delicious tension between him and qimir. qimir would start out frustrated that yord got away, intent on finishing what he started. and yord, once hunted, now hunter, once an exemplary jedi, and now solely focused on revenge disguised as righteous justice (which it is also a bit of that). and qimir starts to enjoy the game, the chase. and in this timeline, sol still dies, osha still goes with qimir, but yord was unconscious, recovering in a bacta tank, so all he knows when he wakes up is that qimir is out there and took osha, his friend, away. so then you also have the tension of that confrontation, the realization that osha has willingly turned, and that maybe yord can't blame her for that, because what has he been doing these past many months, years, maybe, but give in to the selfish desire to finish what he started too?

[wardensantoineandevka]

holding Illario & Lucanis, Cyrian & Bellara, Johanna & Emmrich, Isseya & Davrin, and Solas & Felassan all next to each other in my mind

[raayllum]

Think I meant to do this back when I was vaguely liveblogging my 3rd watch of S6 a few weeks ago, but hit me on said rewatch how much the Sunfire elf plotline is built around Betrayal.

Janai is betrayed by Karim staging a coup in late S4 with the duel of blood and ash, and Karim is betrayed by his own lack of understanding regarding his sister thanks to Amaya's influence in her life.

Then Miyana receives the sun seed and dips in S5, betraying Janai more heavily outright in favour of Karim. (You could also argue Kim'Dael's lack of loyalty is a betrayal of Karim, but I think it's interesting how centralized it is within the Sunfire royal family.) Janai accordingly calls Karim "treacherous" in S6 as well.

In S7, Karim betrays the traditional of a peaceful parlay by lying to Ezran / Corvus and taking them captive. But finally, Karim gets his comeuppance by relying on and being betrayed by Sol Regem, who got what he wanted (his wings healed) and was another pawn in Aaravos' game through his hold on Pharos.

Which I think reaffirms one of the most important lines of Janai's speech in 6x02:

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

I read GRRM’s interview regarding book vs show canon and I thought the way he was approaching an adaptation of his own story, and fiction as a whole, was very interesting. I do wonder though - does the concept of having a separate show canon kind of become like a cop-out? Because in that case, any TV/film adaptation can just decide to change the plot as they see fit and go “oh, well, that’s our canon, the book is a different canon.” Doesn’t it cease to be an adaptation after a point, or at least become a loose one? In the HotD context, a lot of the changes being made I actually quite like because I can see them fitting in the canon, because there’s nothing suggesting otherwise.

But say, Sansa marrying Ramsay (or, alternatively, the moment that show was dead to me) we can say with absolute certainty did not take place and will almost definitely never take place. D&D knew that too but they went ahead with it anyway; it’s not quite like the Scarlett example where it makes no difference to the story because this change does. I feel like the whole point of adapting written words into something visual loses some of its sanctity if we just accept TV changes a whole separate canon, as opposed to simply a change made by the writers (good change or bad change is up to personal opinion).

I have followed your blog for almost a decade so I’m really curious to hear your thoughts on the subject.

GRRM's "Scarlett example" -- his question of "how many children did Scarlett O'Hara have?", because in the book Gone With the Wind she had three, one with each of her three husbands, whereas in the movie she only had one -- has been his go-to when asked about the difference between book and show canon since at least 2012. Or to quote him from 2015,

How many children did Scarlett O’Hara have? Three, in the novel. One, in the movie. None, in real life: she was a fictional character, she never existed. The show is the show, the books are the books; two different tellings of the same story.

This is IMO one of the most sensible ways for an author to look at adaptations of their work (even if I have gotten rather tired of GRRM using the Scarlett example specifically, pick something different George, we've seen it before lol). There is book canon and there is show canon. They are different parallel universes. They're separate canons because they contain changes made by the writers, and also because the very process of moving from the written word to visual media must involve some kind of change.

And this applies to all adaptations. That's why I brought up X-Men comics vs the Fox X-Men movies vs the X-Men cartoon (original 90s and 2024's '97). For example, there's 4 different versions of the Dark Phoenix Saga between those canons, at the very least. Wait, sorry lol, I forgot the Ultimate canon version. And the various in-comics alternate universe versions. And god knows when they finally bring the X-Men into the MCU they'll probably do yet another DPS there too. And that's only one of many storylines that are radically different between the various canons.

Or look at the various Interviews with the Vampire. Is the new tv show "not an adaptation" because its Claudia is a teenager rather than 5 years old as in the book or portrayed by an 11 year old as in the movie, thus resulting in extremely different relationships and a reshaped plot? (Among many other changes?) No. IWTV has book canon, movie canon, and show canon.

And I can't speak that well about Transformers since it's not a major fandom of mine, but go take a look at their various continuities if you want some more perspective about just how very far the meaning of "adaptation" can stretch.

Or hell, look at Stephen King, where among his many many many adaptations, some of which just barely resemble the original text, the only one he sued to have his name removed from was The Lawnmower Man, because they literally used an entirely different story and just slapped his title on it.

And then there's the movie Adaptation, which is a wildly meta-adaptation of the non-fiction book The Orchard Thief (it's a story about the process of adapting that book and involves a fictional version of the writer, the screenplay writer, and an entirely invented screenplay writer's twin brother)... and it was nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay for multiple film awards (and won a few times), and the original writer even said it kept to the book's themes.

Suffice it to say, HOTD has a long, long, long way to go before it could ever "cease to be an adaptation after a point". Changing the timeline to make Alicent and Rhaenyra the same age, or doing Blood & Cheese differently, do not even compare to what some book-to-visual media "loose adaptations" have done. Even GOT, as wildly terrible as their non-book storylines could be, both their changes to the text and after they had no actual text to work with, never became a "loose adaptation". Certainly it became a less than faithful adaptation -- and let's be real, it always was unfaithful for both themes and the essential elements of so many characters -- but it also always was a remarkably accurate adaptation of the whole span of Westeros (in geography and breadth of characters) and the general (not specific) book plot. (Consider previous attempts at adaptation that GRRM rejected, such as a single 2 hour movie, or eliminating Jon and Dany for being "irrelevant", or only making a Jon movie with none of the other storylines, etc.) Which is why, when GOT was different (and awful) it was such a betrayal, like a zombie or evil alien wearing the skin of your best friend or beloved child, and worse, that this twisted lookalike was the only version millions and millions of viewers ever saw and believed to be true.

But again, this just underlines what GRRM has said. "The show is the show, the books are the books." There is book canon and there is show canon. They are separate things. Parallel universes -- very close parallels, often touching in many places, but sometimes they're quite different. Sometimes the differences in adaptation enhance the themes of the original canon; sometimes the author may even consider certain adapted characters (Shae, King Viserys, Helaena) to be better than his original canon; sometimes you know there's only those tricky NDAs (and payments of lots of money) that prevent him from expressing his disappointment in more ways than dropping the Sansa TWOW preview chapter only days before the release of GOT S5. But perhaps if we're lucky, maybe one day we'll have yet another parallel canon to compare to the others.

[tardxsblues]

[mcytegg]

i change my mind abt wanting the sticklers involved in any lore relevant schemes can they just login together and have a fun even one singular time time . no war or betrayal just running around the tunnels full invis or skmething :')

[aventurineswife]

anon who requested the IPC worker x Aventurine where reader faked their death :D

a part 2 would be cool, how you go abt it id up 2 u but if u would like any ideas…it could maybe have a flashback of their fakeout death and Aven’s reaction, and then flash to the present where he tries to leave IPC to live domestically w Reader, but they get killed for real in the process (i’m angst #1s lover) and now Aven is stuck in the IPC 😭

“At the end of the world, or the last thing I see, you are never coming home” | Part 2

Summary: Memories of your past with Aventurine resurface, unraveling the intense moments that led to your faked death. A flashback reveals the night you made the harrowing decision to disappear, showing how it shattered Aventurine’s world. Torn between loyalty to IPC and his love for you, Aventurine is ultimately willing to risk everything for a future together. However, when he attempts to leave the IPC, tragedy strikes, claiming your life in reality this time. Now, Aventurine must face an eternity of regret and entrapment within the very organization you both sought to escape. Bound to the IPC, haunted by memories of you, he is left yearning for a life he can never have.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, angst, fake death reveal, intense emotions, love and loss, tragedy, betrayal, hurt/comfort, forbidden love, character death, emotional breakdown, regret, forced separation, internal conflict, bittersweet romance.

Warnings: Intense emotional themes, character death, grief, betrayal, mentions of violence, flashbacks, guilt and regret, dark themes, potential tearjerker, unresolved trauma.

A/N: AHHHH!!! 😭 THAT'S SO MEAN BUT SO GOOD TOO?! MY BABY!!! 🥺💔

(Part 1)

The memory clung to Aventurine like a shadow—one he could never shake. He could still recall every detail from that day years ago, the day he’d thought he’d lost you forever. In his mind, it was as if he were back there now, reliving the dreadful series of events that tore you from his life.

It had started with an anonymous tip. He’d been in the heart of IPC headquarters, surrounded by the opulent furnishings and hushed power plays that were his world, when he received the message. The vague words scrawled across the screen still felt burned into his mind: An unexpected death in IPC’s ranks. Don’t ask too many questions.

At first, he’d dismissed it as some cruel joke or an attempt to provoke him. But as whispers circulated, he’d felt an ache that reached far deeper than any professional ambition or loyalty to the IPC. His instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. His fingers shook when he finally demanded details from an IPC informant. They had tried to placate him with silence, then with excuses, before finally leading him to a private room where they produced a list of names lost in action. His eyes landed on yours.

His heart had shattered. And in that moment, the world he’d so carefully built around him crumbled. The IPC, his title, every ounce of the strategic power he wielded felt like a joke, a hollow nothing in the face of your loss. Days bled into weeks, then months as he clawed through records, files, and whispers, desperate to uncover anything that could prove this had been a mistake. Eventually, after countless sleepless nights and fading hope, he resigned himself to a cruel reality: you were gone.

In the present, Aventurine had all but lost himself in your kiss, his hands cradling your face as if afraid you might disappear again. But now that he’d found you, he couldn’t imagine letting you slip away. You’d barely finished promising him you weren’t going anywhere when he whispered urgently, “Come with me. I'll leave the IPC. We can start over, together.”

The idea hung in the air, and the look on your face said you wanted it as much as he did. The life you’d built in hiding had given you some solace, but nothing compared to the warmth that had returned the moment you’d locked eyes with him again.

“I want to, Aventurine,” you murmured, your voice soft with hope but tinged with caution. “But you know, you leaving IPC isn’t going to be that simple.”

He gave a wry smile, the familiar gleam of his gambler’s spirit returning to his gaze. “Since when have I ever played it safe?”

It was settled. Together, you and Aventurine began planning a final escape from IPC, the promise of a quiet, shared life filling every unspoken moment between you.

Weeks later, the two of you were ready. Aventurine had secured falsified documents, disguises, and even an old shuttle that he’d salvaged and reprogrammed to slip through IPC scanners. His heart thrummed with excitement as he held your hand, the two of you ducking into back alleys and secret passages within IPC’s labyrinthine halls, moving closer to the shuttle bay with each step.

But just as freedom felt within reach, a familiar voice stopped him cold.

“Aventurine,” called a smooth, calculating voice—a voice he knew well, belonging to his superior within IPC, one of the few who could see through his every bluff. “Going somewhere?”

A team of armed operatives closed in, blocking your escape route, and Aventurine felt his stomach sink as he saw the trap closing around you both.

“What’s this?” he asked smoothly, masking his fear with a cocky grin as he positioned himself protectively in front of you. “A farewell party?”

His superior raised a brow, her gaze shifting to you before returning to him. “Leaving isn’t an option for a Stoneheart. Surely you know that.”

He cast a glance over his shoulder, meeting your eyes, silently urging you to stay close, to trust him just one last time. “Then let me make it clear,” he replied, stepping forward, his voice steady. “I’m done with IPC. And if you want me, you’ll have to get through us both.”

In the ensuing chaos, you and Aventurine fought with everything you had, desperate for one last chance at freedom. But just as you were about to reach the shuttle, a shot rang out.

You stumbled, a look of shock crossing your face as blood bloomed from your side. Aventurine’s heart seized. “No,” he whispered, catching you as you collapsed into his arms. “No, no, please… we were almost there.”

Your eyes met his, filled with a quiet acceptance he couldn’t bear. “It’s okay, Aventurine,” you murmured, your hand weakly reaching to touch his face. “I’m just sorry… I couldn’t give you the life we dreamed of.”

Tears he’d fought so long to hide spilled over as he held you, pressing his forehead to yours. “No, no, please don’t… I can’t do this without you.” But even as he clung to you, your grip grew weaker, your breaths fainter.

When your hand slipped from his cheek, Aventurine was left cradling your lifeless form, his vision blurring as grief consumed him. He’d lost you once before, but nothing had prepared him for the agony of losing you again—for real this time.

In the end, IPC dragged him back, broken and hollow, the final remnant of his old life slipping through his fingers. He returned to the office and his title as a Stoneheart, each day haunted by the love he’d sacrificed to leave the IPC, each night dreaming of a life he’d never know.

And so Aventurine remained, a prisoner of the world he’d once called his own, but now bound by grief—a gambler who’d lost his most precious wager.