#they just want to destroy the earth again
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This meta by @conundrumoftime is worth a read or several reads. It made me re-evaluate Sauron and Galadriel's entire dynamic throughout the Third Age.
Up until now, I had been thinking of their push and pull equation from a perspective of Galadriel being on the defensive and holding Sauron back from seeing her after shutting the door for good.
But what I overlooked was that he was practically defenseless against her. He could never shut the door even if he wanted to. Even if her intrusions drove him to madness.
Not being able to see Galadriel forever would have hurt no doubt; not being able to put up any barriers against her would have been akin to salt on the already festering wound.
She could come in and leave any time she pleases to and he couldn't do the same to her. It was not even that his ties with her were completely severed but rather she held the strings in her hand. The more he saw of her and the more severe addiction would have become and it would have been mightily frustrating because he could only savour her company in little doses whenever she willed it and would have been left craving for more. Instead of leaving his side, she stayed and became a thorn that could never be dislodged. No wonder, his obsession to breach the walls she had put up, to see her and her thoughts intensified with each moment. No wonder he needed the One more than ever. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that Sauron's attitude whenever Galadriel was concerned in the Third Age would be somewhat similar to Gollum's feelings whenever the One Ring was in picture.
It just makes their relationship more twisted and attractive. For millennia, the two of them were engaged in a game which hurt them both and,yet, proved to be delightful.
Perhaps when Galadriel finally rejects the One and realises that it's on a path to be destroyed, she is taken over by melancholy not only at the impending farewell that will have to be said to Middle Earth but also because the 'game' which she had been engaged in every day, every moment and got habituated to will stop forever. There will be no more trysts in the mind palace. No more will she hear his voice. No more can she reach out to him whenever she wants to.
Whenever I used to imagine the final scene of TRoP, I thought it would end with the door being shut. But picture this. Sauron has been defeated by the Last Alliance and weakened. He is trying to recuperate. During this moment, he gets an unexpected visitor. Someone whom he thought he would never see again. Whether she derides him or pities him is left to imagination. But she promises him it is not the last they have seen of each other.
#I live for this dark messy shit#the rings of power#rings of power#trop#saurondriel#haladriel#sauron x galadriel#saurondriel meta
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geto doubting himself :(
“Everything I touch turns to poison.”
Geto Suguru loves nobody. His heart gave up years ago, unable to feel anything that wasn’t a hunger sated only with power and vengeance against those civilian monkeys that believe they’re better than everybody, yet are the worst thing that has graced this damned planet.
“Everything I touch turns to poison.”
The girls - those he rescued when they were barely kids, mistreated and abused by ignorants - are the live example of it: girls with a great talent, transformed into the perfect vessels to carry on his war plan against humans and sorcerers that stood in his way; girls that were just learning how to survive the world…
How did they end up?
Geto Suguru is a broken person. A person that cannot be trusted. If he betrayed his best friend, how can somebody trust him? How can someone look at him in the eyes and see something worthy of appreciation and trust?
You…
How did you see it?
No, the question must be reiterated: how is it that, despite everything, you took his blood-stained hand and kissed his knuckles, looking at him as if he was the most precious thing on Earth? How did you have the guts to stroke his hair and murmur sweet words into his ear when he felt his world falling apart on his shoulders while he was unable to do anything about it?
“Everything I touch turns to poison.”
It’s just a matter of time for your sweetness to turn sour, for the warmth of your hands to become as hot as lava; now comforting, it will become ardent and hurtful. It’s just a matter of time that you realize he’s a farce. That now he’s not as sure of what he believes in, of what he wants to do.
And maybe the answer lies in the most simple and obvious: he is the venom.
He gets in your bloodstream and contaminates you, takes from you what he needs. Mixes in with your blood and controls your body. He spreads out and occupies every part of you until you’re useless to him, and then leaves you being a carcass of your former self.
“Everything I touch turns to poison.”
That’s why it’s best for him to get away and never come back. Leave a letter, at most, and never contact you again. Getting away is easy. He did it once with Satoru, what’s doing it once more?
But, really… Suguru is tired of running away. He’s the strongest, isn’t he? Then, why does his heart tremble whenever he thinks of being with you? With your infinite kindliness, he should be the one that refers to you with the utmost respect, like many others refer to him. With your beauty, he should cover his eyes whenever you pass by. Kneel to the floor with his forehead on the ground to avoid looking at you if he doesn’t want to perish at the sight. He should be adoring you, and not the other way around.
What have you done to this man? You’ve destroyed him, do you even notice? Do you notice how he tries to keep calm whenever you’re around but his eyes betray him? The eyes are the windows to the soul, or so artists say. He’s presenting it to you entirely. He observes you, waiting - hoping - that your gaze finds his own and creates this click! he desperately desires.
And when it finally happens, he can’t help but ask himself if you feel as intensely as he does.
Does your heart beat like his?
Do you get goosebumps?
Do you feel your lungs burning inside you?
He can only hope you do.
This intensity he feels, do you feel it too? But, then again - Geto Suguru is not someone who feels lightly.
“Everything I touch turns to poison.”
#jjk drabbles#jjk drabble#geto suguru#suguru geto#geto x reader#geto x you#cw mentions of blood#jjk suguru#jjk geto#jjk suguru geto#jjk x reader#x reader#jjk fic#jjk short fic#gn!reader#gn reader#gn reader x jjk men
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In my idea for a shattered glass version of RiD15 Alchemist Prime would be in the place of Megatronus/ the Fallen. But unlike the Falken he would be the overarching villain of the series and this version of the high council, who would be a version of the Protectobots here, would be his minions while he stays in the shadows.
Honestly that's a better plot than what the show did concerning Megatronus prime
#maccadam#transformers#alchemist prime#megatronus prime#who is pretty i full well askit#but#he wasn't really that big of a villain considering HOW HE WAS AN ORIGINAL PRIME#transformers rid2015#transformers shattered glass#protectobots#in hindsight it is kinda funny how Steeljaw and the Pack consistently got shafted by their business partners#like ouch#sorry steeljaw#they just want to destroy the earth again
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Quality time with the eldest (Earth) and the youngest (Minus One)! Whatever could go wrong??
Yet again, another cat moment for Minus One. He likes Legendary the most out of all the brothers
Goodbye, Minus One... you will be missed :'(
(Pro tip! Be careful with your belongings at the beach. You never know what might happen to it)
#godzilla#godzilla x kong: the new empire#godzilla minus one#godzilla earth#godzilla ultima#shin godzilla#godzilla x mothra#earth and minus one having some quality time#but then ion dragon had to ruin it#it's always that guy#at least minus one is strong enough to defeat him lol#and he's safe!#he enjoyed his lil flight#but do it again and Earth will defo have a heart attack#and probs destroy the whole planet#and we don't want that now...#do we?#btw#I STILL SHIP GODZILLA AND MOTHRA AND I AM GOING TO DRAW SHIP ART JUST YOU WATCH ME HHHHHHHRRRGGGG#anyway Ultima is into science so he's been... busy ig#shin is just shin#i wish i could sleep like shin#do not repost#my art
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#jesus fuck almighty#my neighbor miraculously doesn’t sleep night or day and slams the door located in their apartment located directly behind my headboard#constantly#just when you think you have finally attained sleep again BOOM the earth shakes with the fury of a dying god#now that i’ve started banging on the wall in counterpoint tonight (lbr it’s MORNING)#after averaging 3h of sleep a night and torching my personal and professional relationships due to insomnia#my downstairs neighbor will probably destroy me n the morning#but i am ready to die now#you cannot touch me#i have entered the nether realm called No REM Sleep#…i used to wonder why my landlords always wanted to check our apartments for ‘holes in the walls’#like who the fuck is punching through drywall?#now i know#now i know on an intimate level the shitty things about this building’s construction that were going unsaid
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rewatching 13s era for me is not so much diminishing returns as it is something opposite and eviler...............increasing losses? increasing losses
#every time i rewatch an episode the points where it couldve been better poke me in the eye#maybe probably the exact same thing would happen with any other thing i would get this obsessed about#you stare at something long enough its flaws will become ever more apparent#you love something enough everything it could have been but IS NOT becomes ever more painful#i watched 13x5 tonight.........honestly what the fuck goes on#no these were my responses now 3 years and probably a dozen rewatches in:#1) what the fuck goes on#2) philosophically stilll utterly unintelligible to me i might be stupid#swarm and azures whole thing. like. everything they say about their Schemes is completely......incoherent. i dont understand it.am i stupid#3) feels like most agents in these plots are just doing busywork. but might be my inability to understand plot again#but like diane?? who is she what is she why is she#4) 13s message to yaz 'flux destroys universe so refugees coming take over earth your task' is.....like.....profoundly......wtf#and seemingly easily fixable: flux destroys universe refugees come to earth find a way to welcome them#get unit involved THAT way. right?#unit as the liaison between humanity and alienity. rebrand#but maybe that doesnt work with the snakeman plot idfk im stupid with plot#5) scenes between 13 and tecteun couldve been so much more. mastervoice: i have Notes. first and least: tecteun shouldve called her Child#damn now i want to do 13 era rewrite again#i really should do that one day i think it would be good for my skills#turn it into a good oldfashioned 13 ep series. still one story tho. but to deepen everything out a bit more#actually getting into all the stuff thats only sort of Touched upon#making swarm and azure not only make sense but also emotionally important and if possible even lore-wise interesting#more abt the division past. doesnt need to be shown in detail if the absence is the point. that doesnt mean there cant be more absence#swarm&azure lore + division lore + vinder&bel lore in separate pieces starting to show a horrible puzzle when put together#yaz and dan in 1900s for 3 full eps or so. time to breathe. more yaz&13 stuff. a lot more 13&yaz stuff#i think that might actually be the heart of it. maybe it should be the heart of it#leaning into that 13-tecteun parallel. the frustration and resentment. build up to the 'so why are you SO interested in him!' stuff#more of their life in the tardis just the two of them without buffer#i kinda want to play with like a lot more body language between them which the camera doesnt allow as we have it#like zoom the fuck out pls
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Been watching some dbs related videos and I'm sosoo glad I gave up on that anime because oh my god the story gets worse with every arc. Wtf are they even doing anymore
#watched a vid summarizing the granolah arc and literally genuinely what was that#my favorite part was when frieza showed up outta nowhere with a new form he'd cultivated#in a alternate dimension that distorts time in a similar way that the room of space and time does#proceeded to one hit kill the big bad of the week. knock out goku and vegeta for shits and giggles and then dip#hilarious#but it was meant to be totally serious and to show that frieza's totallyyyy a threat again guys for real lets goo round 3#and that was literally the most interesting part of the arc#Im so mad about the fucking bardock retcon#but not about the hypothetical wish he made. I remember reading somewhere that the English translation of the manga was incorrect#and ik a lot of people argue that the wish he made just retconned the whole message of dragon ball#but thats based on the English version of the manga#also speaking of bardock and retcons related to him Im still livid over the fact that they changed goku's origin story#to be an almost exact ripoff of superman's#and they retconned the start of the saiyan arc with that too#radirz said goku was sent to earth to destroy it as a baby. but now goku was sent to earth on purpose to save his life?#bullshit. I call bullshit#man Im sorry that most of my original posts so far have related to me bitching about Super#I want to engage with dragon ball contentbso bad but how can I when mostly everything is about Super now?#can't even read a good fanfic without goku's character being bastardized and infantalized the way it is in Super#literally fouvd my dream fic the other day but it got ruined 12 chapters in because the writer had started watching super#and completely changed the plit of the fic and goku's character to fit into the world where super resides and it made me want to eat glass#I will be more funny and talk about better dbz related stuff soon I prommy <3#star scrambles
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ok, but why can't I become soul besties with a loser of a space parasite and then become like a weird superhero or whatever
#//juri speaks#ya girl just watched venom again#cant get over how venom was like ''wait earth has tater tots and chocolate this rules''#and instantly decided he wanted a loser human bestie instead of destroying the world
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#I love angst as much as any other person but I feel like people lean too hard into CROWLEY WANT TO KILL HIMSELF WITH HOLY WATER BECAUSE#AZIRAPHALE LEFT#because first: Crowley never showed any suicidal intentions in canon#ever#whole holy water fight was *because* Aziraphale was absolutely baselessly scared that Crowley will hurt himself and Crowley just couldn't#get it and even attempt to calm him down#like sleep or drink or run away? ok#I prefer to think that Crowley will work in averting the second coming but I get it#functional and capable Crowley is not everyone's cup of tea#but also second: Crowley dying from holy water is literally Aziraphale's biggest (semi)irrational fear we saw in canon#like his reaction was overblown in a way we only saw when he dealt with literal apocalypse#Crowley's perfectly aware of this#and this...this not only shows Crowley a) suddenly losing all his optimism b) leaving earth and humans on their own c) leaving Aziraphale on#his own#it's also shows him cruel. not on petty 'dance a little dance for me' level. not on sending nazis to hell level. on the 'let's deliberately#hurt person that deeply loves me (and that I deeply love too) in most cruel and inreparable way'#I can't stress it enough — *intentionally*. burdening him with it *forever*#like. even if you imagine that Crowley *is* stupid enough to not get that Aziraphale was afraid of giving him holy water *because* he's#scared shitless of him dying (and also dying specifically because of him)#he still should get that Aziraphale cares for him in some capacity (I'm not talking about people that makes Crowley cry 'Aziraphale never#loved me at all' because those people saw some other series)#Crowley should understand that him killing himself would absolutely destroy Aziraphale#and I can't wrap my mind around it. like. Crowley won't hurt Aziraphale. not in that way.#again don't get me wrong you can write ooc fics all you want it's just...when some kind of trope gets so popular you start to question what#part of character's character made you accept this as valid and highly accepted interpretation#like I don't like slutty subby Crowley in fics but I get it he looks good in tight jeans and simps hard for Aziraphale. with this tho??#I'm absolutely lost it looks like whole other character for me#sidebote: would absolutely read good IC fic/hc about Crowley being suicidal/attempting suicide. but in my heart Aziraphale is the one that#will consider suicide as an (absolutely rational! he has arguments!) option meanwhile Crowley's like NO ANGEL THAT'S NOT FUCKING NORMAL
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"Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want to be a Magical Girl" Bios!
NAME: Aika (she/her) AGE: 15 Main Protagonist CV: Anairis Quiñones
BIO:
Aika is an easily excitable and energetic girl. She's generally optimistic and very friendly. She's always eager to try new things as long as it's not her fulltime job of being a magical girl.
As soon as her magical girl duties are brought into the picture, her demeanor changes. She checks out, and often looks for the quickest solution to solve the issue. No flashy transformations and special moves here. She's good with a metal baseball bat or a rocket launcher.
All Aika wants is to live a normal life, make friends and go to school. Unfortunately, like every main protagonist, trouble manages to follow her wherever she goes.
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NAME: Zira (she/they) AGE: 16 Love Interest Best Friend CV: Bennett Abara
BIO:
Zira is everything Aika wants to be. Painfully average, under the radar and a self proclaimed loser.
She's a smart girl but has a hard time applying herself. Instead of paying attention in school, and doing extracurriculars, Zira would much rather be reading her favorite magical girl manga "Moon Sailor".
After Aika forces her friendship upon them, Zira now has to tag along on all of Aika's escapades and experiences new things. Ew. However, they admire Aika deeply and admire her even more after Aika's magical secret comes to light.
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NAME: Hoshi (any/they/them) AGE: unknown Magical Sidekick CV: Christine Marie Cabanos
BIO:
Hoshi is a magical star being sent to Earth to find the chosen one. They made a great choice with Aika, as she's amazing at her job. The only issue is she hates it and is often trying to dodge responsibilities (and Hoshi).
When Aika first started, and still had her heart in it, Hoshi was definitely more neurotic and acted as your typical mentor/magical sidekick. But over time, they gave up on trying to tell Aika what to do and also became a little more apathetic. Aika was getting the job done at least, so what's the problem?
Hoshi still has to make sure Aika doesn't completely give up on being the Star Guardian: Guardian of the Stars, which Aika finds annoying.
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NAME: Eclipse (he/him) AGE: 15 Minor Antagonist CV: Aleks Le
BIO:Eclipse is a flamboyant and theatrical individual whose showmanship is out of this world. He refers to himself as
"Eclipse: Servant of Darkness".
He was a D-list antagonist that Aika and her team would fight on occasion. Mostly just saving citizens from him being a nuisance. Eclipse has deluded himself into thinking that he's Aika's rival, main antagonist and love interest. Their love is simply forbidden as he's chosen the path of darkness and her, the light.
After Aika ran away, he managed to find her again. However this time he actually has powers??? Where did those come from? It's as if he's made a deal with darkness itself.
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NAME: Lady DeVoid (she/her) AGE: Old Main Antagonist/Big Bad CV: Shara Kirby
BIO: Lady DeVoid is darkness itself. She's a mysterious being with an incomprehensible amount of power. Power that is currently weakened and that she actually has no idea how to use. She can't seem to remember for some reason...
All she knows is that a long time ago she was defeated and banished by a Star Guardian and that she now wants revenge. The only power she has at her disposal is creating particles of darkness that she can use to possess animate or inanimate objects to create monsters. She prefers others do her dirty work.
She enlists the help of Eclipse to spread these particles with the hopes that it'll eventually destroy the Star Guardian.
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NAME: Miss (she/her) AGE: 39 Side Character CV: Michele Knotz
BIO:
Miss is Aika and Zira's very tired teacher. Looking at her, you might assume she hates her job, but it's quite the opposite. She pours everything into her work and into her students, leaving very little time for her personal life.
She's recently started trying to get it together (after her ex-wife left her) but is still struggling to find that work-life balance.
Prior to Aika enrolling, Miss was Zira's only friend at school and, though she'd never admit it, Zira's probably the closest thing she has to a friend also (oof). She's subsequently become a secret Moon Sailor fan too.
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#i know two schizophrenic people and one of them being literally the worst person i've ever met and in my life is kinda wild to think about#the other person i love her i really do and i wish i had the energy to help her rn but i don't#i'm at a breaking point#like yall don't and will never understand mental illness until you see how severely it affects the person and everyone aroun them#like this shit is UGLY relationship destroying life ruining pathogen type beat i hate it here so bad#like the quality of life is abysmal#i wonder how it is to not have to deal with it must be heaven on earth#sorry just wanted to vent and this is kind of barely coherent#thoughts#also the resources to help ppl like this are practically nonexistent and this country needs to burn#at every turn it's been apathetic beaucracy and incompetency#if you don't have monu they said fuck you and die#we gotta burn this place#and honestly it just feels like a bunch of judgement for not draling with the circumstances better sympathetic condolences#and glad-that's-not-me's#really sucks to be us energy fr rn ://#all or our youth is passing us by and its just... beyond our control#mum's wailing in her room in utter despair bc mentally ill sister got evicted bc she's been swiping ppl's packages from their front doors#for months#really wanna d1e#i love the former person this i mainly about (sister) but most days if not every day i hate her is the god's honest truth#but also i get why she's here and how she's got there and relate to a lot of her hatred of everyone and everything including herself but ya#there's too much there#and i'm not strong enough for forgiveness and neither is she#so she's on the streets god knows where with a fucking dog and she's gonna appear tomorrow morning again and ofc we'll let her in#sigh#my sobriety was kinda nice for the last 7 months it lasted
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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - THREE
pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x Sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy, of abortion, health risks & death. chapter one ┆chapter two ┆ chapter four
Two lines.
Two bold, definitive lines.
You blinked. Once, twice, but it didn’t change. It wasn’t going away.
Two lines, clear as fucking day, staring back at you like they were taunting you.
The universe was laughing right in your face. You felt everything plummet to the very bottom of the earth—the room, the floor, your stomach—it all just plummeted, like you’d been pushed off a cliff with no warning.
The test fell from your grip, clattering onto the marble countertop, but you didn’t care. You backed away from it like it was something radioactive, something dangerous that could destroy you if you got too close. But it already had, hadn’t it?
You were pregnant.How could this happen? How the fuck could this happen?
You knew how, obviously. You weren’t that dumb. All you could see in your head was Rafe’s stupid fucking face. His name alone made you want to punch something, preferably his balls.
You were pregnant? With his kid? You were so careful with your life, with your image.
You could feel the resentment rise in your throat again, the taste of acid making you want to scream. He didn’t get to do this to you. He couldn’t ruin your life twice, fuck you up this bad and then just leave. You wanted to hate him. You did hate him. You hated it. And worse, you hated yourself.
There you were, stuck with this. Alone with a baby you didn’t even want to think about. The thought of it growing inside you—of carrying some piece of him, some reminder of everything he put you through these past two months—it was loathsome. He wasn’t part of this, not anymore. And you weren’t that girl—you didn’t want to be. You weren’t the one who begged for him to care, who waited around for him to come to his senses, who made excuses.
You weren't going to cry. You couldn’t. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you physically couldn’t. Not with your makeup done so carefully. Your eyes were lined so meticulously, your foundation blended like a dream, your lips painted in that bold red everyone said you pulled off effortlessly. You couldn’t afford to let your mascara run. He wasn’t worth it.
You weren’t going to ruin all that hard work over him again. No way.
You pressed a tissue to your eyes—not to cry, but to catch the stray moisture that threatened to ruin your eyeliner—and took a deep breath. You smoothed your dress, and made sure everything was in place.
You didn’t have time to figure it out, or wallow, or throw shit around. You straightened your back, lifted your chin, and forced yourself to feel nothing.
Not the panic, not the nausea, not the rage. Nothing.
You could push it all down, shove it into that deep hellish place in your guts where you put everything else. Later, maybe you’d have to let it out.
Just as you were spiraling deeper into the pit, there was a knock on the door. Loud. It made you jump, pulling you out of your head for just a second.
“Hey!” It was Lily, her voice bright, oblivious. “It’s time. We need you out there. You’ve got like three minutes.”
Right. You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this was.
You stepped out of the room, every movement rehearsed, the smile expertly placed on your lips. You were a master at this—faking it, pretending like nothing in the world could touch you. Not after seeing those two fucking lines.
Your heels clicked on the floor as you walked through the hallway, down the steps, and into the ballroom. It was filled with kooks being kooks. Fake smiles, fake compliments, fake friendships. You weren’t even listening to a word anyone said to you.
“Hi, darling, you look stunning as always,” someone said, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek. You smiled, said thank you, maybe even added a you too, but you couldn’t hear yourself. Your body knew exactly what to do at these things.
Pretend like you gave a shit.
“Your dad would be so proud,” another woman gushed, and you wanted to throw up. You laughed.
If he knew what was happening. Pregnant? By a man who didn’t put a ring on your finger?
And there they were, of course—Topper, Kelce and Ruthie, standing in the middle of it all, grinning like idiots. Well, Topper grinning like an idiot.
Ruthie? That girl was giving everyone her signature snake sneer. Of course she was. The bitch had this superpower of sensing everyone's business before they even knew it themselves.
A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes, and you reached out instinctively, but the waiter, somehow, just missed you. The tray floated right past, and before you could even realize the fact that you didn’t have a drink in your hand, her eyes were on you.
“Oh, you're not drinking?” she asked, voice dripping with fake concern. Her eyes flickered, like she knew something, and you swear to god, your eyelid twitched.
“Not yet,” you replied with the same faux smile.
Ruthie just kept watching you with those too-knowing eyes, like she was looking for a crack, some little tell. Because she always did.
You had to be so careful around her.
One wrong move, one second, and she’d be all over it, spreading it around the entire town before you even had a chance to breathe.
Your cousin, completely oblivious, was babbling with Kelce about something—probably golf, or the new boat his dad bought, or some other thing you couldn’t care less about. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but you were mentally still in the bathroom, staring at those two lines.
“So, you invited Rafe?” Kelce said it like it was nothing, like bringing up your ex-boyfriend was the most casual thing in the world.
“What the actual fuck did you just say?” You all but growled out, enough to make him choke on his champagne.
He looked genuinely confused, as if he didn’t just mention the one person you’d rather hurl off a bridge at the moment. “Yeah, Rafe. He’s on the list, right?”
Your whole body went rigid. You blinked, trying to keep your face from giving anything away, but inside? You were dying. Ruthie’s eyebrows shot up—oh great, now you had her attention too.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Kelce, of course, had the nerve to chuckle.
If Rafe had spoken to them about being taken off the guest list, you’d lose it. The insolence of him mentioning your name—like he still had any right to talk about you? He should’ve buried the memory of you right along with whatever feelings he claimed to have had.
But then, if he hadn’t said a word about it to his best friends—that meant something worse. That meant he didn’t care. He was over it. Over you.
He hadn’t even bothered to tell them that he wasn’t coming to the gala because he wasn’t thinking about it. Or about you.
You hated either possibility.
Kelce like the asshole he was, "I thought you two were—"
"Don't." You cut him off so fast, so hard, he had to take a step back.
You wanted to grab Top by his clueless shoulders and demand answers. Did Rafe care? Was he coming tonight? You didn’t like any option—every scenario made you want to get on a plane to the other side of the world. If he was planning to show up despite being cut from the list…Shit, what would you even do? You could feel the headache starting already.
That would be so him, though.
The arrogance. The entitlement, ignoring boundaries because he never thought the rules applied to him.
Ruthie, of course, was still watching you like a hawk. Her eyes darted between you and Topper, and you could practically feel her mind working, trying to piece together whatever she thought she was seeing. She loved this. She lived for other people’s drama, and you knew she’d sniff out anything that didn’t look flawless.
You did out without even thinking, grabbing Topper’s ear between two manicured fingers like you were his mom dragging him out of Sunday school, pulling him away.
"Ow, Jesus—what the hell?!" he yelped, stumbling to keep up with you in his shiny loafers as you all but hauled him into the nearest corner of the ballroom, out of sight, but still within earshot of the crowd.
You didn’t care. Let someone see. Let them all see.
You turned to him, barely letting go of his ear, your nails tapping impatiently against your crossed arms. He looked at you like you’d lost your mind, and maybe you had.
“Spill it.”
He was still rubbing his ear. “What are you talking about?”
“Rafe,” you snapped, eyes narrowing. “Is he coming tonight? And don’t you dare lie to me, Top.”
He gulped. Actually gulped. You swore you could see the gears turning in that pretty, empty head of his, trying to figure out if he could weasel his way out of this.
“I— I don’t know, okay?” Topper stammered, running a hand through his hair. “I haven’t talked to him today, but I figured… I mean, he always comes to these things, so I assumed—"
That meant Rafe didn’t tell him. That your little stunt hadn’t phased him in the slightest.
“You assumed?” You leaned in closer, eyes burning holes into his skull. “After everything, you thought it was a good idea to just assume he’d show up and not even bother telling me?”
“I can’t put him on a leash!” His voice rose defensively, eyes wide like he was the one under attack. And yeah, maybe he was. Maybe you’d gone full psycho mode. Rafe always turned you into this—this furious, spiraling, out-of-control version of yourself.
Your cousin was just collateral damage.
“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe someone should.” You said it slowly like you were explaining something to a child. “Do you even know what it’s like?” you hissed, leaning in closer, your voice dropping , “To sit here, wondering if he’s gonna show up like some ticking time bomb?”
Topper’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
He didn’t know shit about what you were going through. How could he? He wasn’t the one with a whole life-changing secret burning a hole in his brain, wondering if the father of the child growing inside him was going to ruin everything—again.
“I—I didn’t think it was that serious,” Topper stammered, hands flying up in surrender. “I mean, he’s always been a dick, but—”
You remember the first thing he texted you after weeks of radio silence.
“No,” you interrupted, “He’s more than just a dick. He’s—” You stopped yourself before you said too much. God, you were on the edge, and you needed to rein it in.
Topper, still looking like a kicked puppy, shifted on his feet.
“Look, I’ll text him. I’ll ask if he’s coming or not, okay?” He pulled out his phone, typing something quickly. You watched him, arms crossed, tapping your foot against the marble floor like your life depended on it. If you saw his face—his stupid, beautiful, infuriating face—you didn’t know what you’d do.
Punch him? Scream? Run? The thought of him being here, so close, when you hadn’t even processed what was happening to you…
“Okay, he says—” He paused, squinting at his screen, “he’s not coming.”
The relief. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, shoulders sagging for just a second before you caught yourself. He’s not coming.
But why did it hurt? Perhaps a small part of you wanted him to show up—just to see you, just to care. The other part, however, didn’t. You didn’t want him anywhere near you, or this... this thing inside you.
“See?” Topper said, holding up his phone like it was some peace offering. “He’s not coming. Crisis averted.” He gave you this awkward, nervous smile, like he thought you might hit him again.
You forced a laugh, even though nothing about this was funny.
“Great. Awesome. Perfect,” you said through gritted teeth simultaneously smoothing your dress, and pushing your hair back over your shoulder, “Thanks, Top. Really. You’re a real lifesaver.”
He looked at you like he wasn’t sure if you were being sarcastic or not, but you didn’t care. The moment was over. You’d survived.
You rolled your eyes as you turned away heading back toward your original group. Of course, Ruthie was still standing there her arms crossed, that smug little smirk on her face. She’d been watching the whole thing, no doubt about it.
You could feel her nosy ass dissecting every single move you made.
“He’s not here yet,” she hummed, her eyes narrowing just enough to piss you off. “Weird, right? Maybe he’s busy with Sofia.”
Of course, she brought up that fucking name.
She was sniffing out blood in the water, as if she wasn’t just another Sarah Cameron knock-off. You could already picture it—the headlines, the whispers spreading through the audience, everyone talking about you. The legacy who ruined her own gala.
Kelce snorted, not even bothering to hide his amusement, because of course he thought this was all a joke. He never got it. None of them did.
You wished, for just a second, that you weren’t born into this pristine, high-society life. You felt so smothered by these expectations. If you were anyone else, if you weren’t some debutante raised on champagne and etiquette, you’d have punched her right there. You’d have knocked her straight to the floor and wiped that pretentious smile off her face with blood in front of every stuck-up rich asshole in the room.
“I didn’t realize we were talking about her,” you said, voice like sugar, even though you knew Ruthie could sense the underlying warning in it,“But thanks, Ruthie, for always keeping me updated on things that don’t concern you.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t back down yet.
“Just making conversation. I mean, it is weird that he hasn’t shown up yet, right? Considering how close you two used to be. I’m sure it’s nothing, though.”
Kelce, that asshole, leaned in, "Come on, don't act like you’re over it." His eyes glanced down to your hand. "You’re shaking."
You were. You hadn’t even noticed.
But instead of acknowledging it, you shot him a look that could've killed. "Fuck off, Kelce."
They were trying to get you to admit you didn’t invite him. Well, they’d have to try harder. You’d been swimming around sharks since you were born, no one was going to fuck you over so easily.
“Uh-huh,” Ruthie said, not buying a word of it. Her eyes flicked between you and Topper, and you knew what she was doing. She was fishing. “You sure about that? You were giving him a look.”
You glanced at your cousin, who was still rubbing his ear like a toddler. “Just sorting out some... logistics for the gala,” you said, voice saccharine, but it felt like chewing on glass. “It’s nothing. Really.”
She arched a brow, her lips curling up in a knowing grin. She knew something was off. She always did. “Right,” she said slowly, drawing the word out like she was savoring it. “Because for a second there, it looked like you were about to explode.”
She was monitoring you so closely, you could feel it crawling up your skin.
“You know,” she sighed, like she cared. “If something’s going on you can tell me. I won’t say a word.”
That was rich. Ruthie, keeping a secret? You’d sooner trust a thief with your jewelry. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” you said, not keeping the sarcasm out of your voice. “But trust me, there’s nothing to tell.”
Ruthie’s pursed her lips, annoyed that she hadn’t managed to dig anything up, “Are you—”
You were two seconds away from shoving her into the nearest fountain. But instead, you took a deep breath, “You should worry less about me,” you advised her, “and more about that atrocious dress you’re wearing.”
The smile fell off her face so fast, it was glorious.
You didn’t wait for her to recover. You turned on your heel, and grabbed Topper by the arm.
As soon as you were far enough away, he let out a breath he’d been holding. “Jesus, I thought you were gonna deck her.”
You grinned, but there was no warmth in it. “I still might.”
He sighed, “She’s still my girlfriend.”
“Yeah, downgrading seems like a thing for you boys.”
Like a guardian angel sent from above, Lily appeared, stepping between you two with a concerned expression.
“Hey, hey,” she interrupted, glancing between you, “What was that about?”
You could see the caution in her eyes. She wasn’t stupid—Lily knew things between you and Rafe had been rocky, and she’d probably been sensing the tension the entire night. But right now, she was doing her best to defuse the earlier situation before it got any worse.
“Nothin’, just Ruthie being herself,” You dismissed, as you grabbed onto her forearm, “Let’s go.”
Lily blinked, startled by your urgency, but she didn’t argue. “Yeah, we should head backstage, the speech is coming up.”
“Bye Top. Stay the fuck away from the chocolate fountain.”
You could hear him whine in the back, “I did that shit once!”
Lily pulled you along through the ballroom, her arm linked with yours, quickening her pace to keep up with you as you nearly bolted toward the back of the venue. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” you bit out, though your voice didn’t even convince you. “I’m fine. I just need to get this speech over with.”
“Uh-huh,” She replied, clearly not convinced, but smart enough to drop it for now. “You got it, don’t worry.”
Finally, you made it to the side entrance that led backstage. The thick drapes and low lighting created a shield, giving you a small moment of privacy before the world demanded your attention again.
Lily stood next to you, gently touching your arm, “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. We can stall, or—”
“I have to,” you stopped her, rubbing a hand over your face, “I can’t—” You didn’t finish your sentence because you didn’t know how to say it. You had no choice.
Lily’s fingers squeezed your arm a little tighter. “Okay,” she said quietly, nodding. “But I’m here if you need me.”
You forced a smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks,” you whispered, even though the words felt hollow in your mouth.
You appreciated her being here, really, but she was blissfully unaware of the pregnancy test in the trash can.
Taking a deep breath, you adjusted your posture, straightened your dress, and ran a hand through your hair, reminding yourself that you’d been here before. You’d stood on that stage so many times.
This wasn’t new. You just had to get through it.
One more speech. One more night. You glanced at Lily, gave her a quick nod, and stepped through the final curtain. Back into the spotlight. Back into the role you’d perfected so well—put together, poised, untouchable.
The low murmur of the gathering hummed in your ears, growing louder with every second. You weren’t ready. You were never going to be ready.
You just needed to remember how to breathe.
The speech was printed and sitting in your hands, it felt like dead weight. You hadn’t even read through it since you’d finished it hours ago, and now, the thought of standing in front of all those people, pretending to have it together—it felt impossible.
Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw him.
Rafe.
He said he wasn’t coming. Topper said he wasn’t coming. But there he was, standing there, watching you just like he always had.
You hadn’t even meant to look. You didn’t do it on purpose, perhaps it was muscle memory, always searching for him. He was standing in the same spot he usually took. Like nothing had changed.
As if he hadn’t ripped you apart.
You tried to focus, but your heart was racing, thundering in your ears.
How dare he? How fucking dare he? Instantly you were back there, that messy, intoxicating space you swore you’d never return to. The one where he controlled the air you breathed. He looked so good. Too good, really. He was wearing a crisp navy suit that hugged his frame perfectly, hair buzzed again.
You should’ve guessed he’d find a way back here, even after everything.
“Are you ready?” Lily whispered beside you, her voice pulling you back from the brink of a breakdown.
“Yeah.”
Your heart raced as you forced yourself to look back at Rafe.
He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even pretending to look interested. He just stood there, his eyes locked on you, unreadable, unfathomable.
He was still watching you. It felt like could see through your polished exterior. He probably did. He knew you better than anyone else. You wondered what he saw—the confident girl who had always pulled off these events with ease or the terrified woman who was about to pass out from the pressure.
Then, he’s lips lifted slightly. That infuriating, devil-may-care almost there smirk that had made your heart stutter long before everything went to hell. It reminded you of nights spent tangled in sheets, whispers pressed against your skin under the cover of darkness, moments that felt like they belonged in a dream.
You wanted to throw the speech away and storm off the stage, leaving this whole night behind.
Instead, you cleared your throat and gripped the edges of the podium, the cool wood bringing you back to the world.
The words were on the paper in front of you, but you didn’t need to look at them. You knew the speech by heart every year. You’d written it yourself, after all—crafted it with care, knowing exactly what people needed to hear to make their checks bigger, to keep your father’s legacy alive.
It was just a matter of saying it without breaking.
A deep breath, and then you began.
“Good evening, everyone. Thank you so much for being here tonight.”
Your voice sounded better than what you felt, and you leaned into that, letting it carry you through the first few lines.
“We gather here every year for the same reason—to celebrate the incredible work this foundation does, and to honor the legacy of those who came before us. This foundation isn’t just a charity; it’s a tribute. A way to remember those we’ve lost and to carry their dreams forward. It’s about giving back to a community that gave so much to us.”
You paused, just for a moment, glancing down at the speech in your hands, feeling the overwhelming crush of what you’re about to say next.
“For me, this has always been personal.” Your voice softened as you continued, “Most of you are aware I lost my family a few years ago. My father started this foundation. His vision was always to make sure that no one was left behind, that we take care of our own. My mother helped build it. And my sister…” You hesitated, remembering how faultless she’d been, “She was always the heart of it.”
The room was utterly still now, everyone listening intently.
“Tonight, as I stand here, I can’t help but think about how proud they would be of what we’ve accomplished. At least, I hope they’d be proud.”
You allowed yourself a small, bittersweet smile.
“My dad would’ve been in his element, making sure everything was spotless. And my mom, well, she’d probably tell me that the curtains were horrid and needed to be replaced immediately.”
The crowd gave a light laugh, the tension in the room dissipating just a little. You smiled, a real one this time, for the first time in weeks, picturing your mother in her no-nonsense way, criticizing every decoration like it was the most important thing in the world.
“I miss them every day,” you added, “And I’m certain I’m not the only one in this room who’s experienced that kind of loss. It changes you. But it also reminds you to live in a way that makes them proud. And that’s what tonight is about, continuing their work, continuing their legacy, and making sure we do right by them.”
Your grip on the podium loosened, and you looked up, making eye contact with the audience.
“So, to everyone here tonight—thank you. Thank you for believing in this cause. Thank you for your generosity, your support, and your kindness. And thank you for helping me keep their memory alive.”
With that, you stepped back from the podium, the applause swelling around you, but all you could hear was the sound of your heart breaking.
It was over. You did it.
Automatically, your eyes flickered up toward the back corner, the spot where Rafe was standing. You never needed to look before; you’d always just known he’d be there. It was his silent promise to you since you were sixteen. Every gala, every speech—no matter what happened between the two of you—he was there.
But he wasn’t there anymore. The space was empty.
This was what you wanted, you didn’t need him anymore. You were going to get through this on your own. It was the first time he wasn’t there to catch you like he’d always been.
You stood taller, and forced a smile, but as you started to step down from the stage, you felt it.
That stupid fucking warmth.
His hand found your elbow as you and every nerve in your body screamed bloody murder. The applause was still buzzing in your ears, cameras flashing—none of it registered.
All you saw was him.
Three seconds. That was how close you were to snapping. Who the fuck let him in?
You yanked your arm away, the touch burning your skin like it was staining you. You didn’t say a word—just turned and headed straight for the back exit.
Behind you, you heard his footsteps.
Of course, he never knew when to stop, when to let you breathe.
“Can we just—” he was practically jogging after you, his voice strained. “Can we talk like fucking adults?”
You were already halfway down the hall, pulling off your earrings as you stormed toward your suite.
The fucking sheer audacity of this man. You couldn’t even process it—how he could stand there, with his fake-ass calm tone, chasing after you like you were the one being unreasonable.
You threw open the door to the suite you got ready in, the one that was supposed to be your sanctuary for the night and stepped inside, not bothering to close it behind you; you knew he was going to follow you in any way.
He was relentless like that.
You tossed the earrings onto the vanity and glanced up to see he was right behind you now, lingering in the doorway, as if unsure of how much further he could push before you exploded.
He looked at you like he was the victim in all this.
“Can you at least listen to me for a second?” It sounded like he was forcing himself to stay calm.
But that bite was so Rafe.
You spun around, your breath coming out harsh.
“Listen to you? Listen to you? You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but you were already pulling off your heels, the sharp tug at the straps doing nothing to calm your frustration.
He stood there, his eyes on you, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him for more than a second without feeling the betrayal flooding your chest.
Rafe was rubbing the back of his neck in that agitated way he did when he was frustrated. “I came here because I didn’t want to leave things like that. I thought we could be civil—”
“Civil?” You nearly laughed, “You seriously think you can walk in here and be civil after everything?”
His eyes narrowed just a fraction. He moved on his feet, stepping further into the room, and you saw it—the way he rolled his shoulders like he was already preparing himself for a fight. “I came to apologize.”
He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, the same agitated motion you’d seen a thousand times as if he was trying to smooth out the mess in his head.
Your hands stopped mid-motion, your necklace halfway off. You looked at him like he’d lost his mind. "Apologize for what, exactly?"
“For calling you dramatic.” He exhaled like he was doing something noble by saying it. As if he was doing you a favor. “For that text. I was drunk, didn’t mean it.”
He wasn’t apologizing for ghosting you. He wasn’t apologizing for her.
You stared at him, completely floored. He was serious, he thought this was some kind of peace offering. The fact that he thought an apology for that would fix anything? Insane.
“You think this is about that?” You cackled, chucking one shoe to the side, not caring where it landed, and the other followed right after. “Oh my god, Rafe, you are so fucking clueless.”
His expression changed then, brows furrowed, “I’m trying to make things right,” he mutters. “I don’t want you out of my life, okay?”
You threw the necklace somewhere on the ground, your patience gone. “You were the one who pushed me away. You don’t get to waltz in here and act like we can just fix things because you finally feel bad about it.”
He stepped closer, looming over you now, his lips curling into that sneer. “I’m trying to give you a chance to be friends—”
Give you? Like you were some charity case to him? As if you should be thankful.
“I don’t want to be your friend!” You growled in his face, stepping forward and jabbing your finger into his chest, “I’d rather set myself on fire than be your friend, so you can take that chance and shove it up your ass.”
His hand came up to run along his head again, and you saw the way his fingers curled into his scalp like he was trying not to give in to his impulsive thoughts. His breathing was heavier now, too, chest rising and falling quickly.
“Why are you being so difficult?” he snapped, and there it was—the familiar, accusatory edge in his voice. “After what you said about my dad—”
The reason.
The thing that broke you two this time, the thing he’d been holding over your head. You saw the hurt in his eyes, the one thing he hadn’t let go of.
You told him the truth and now it had become the scar he wouldn’t stop picking at. He was hurt. And he was angry, because you’d finally told him the truth about his dad, and it shattered that fake picture he had in his head.
“You’re gonna bring that up right now?” Your voice was so quiet it nearly scared you. “After all the shit you’ve put me through, that’s what you’re mad about?”
“You don’t get to talk about him like that,” he growled, stepping forward. “That’s why we broke up. Because you don’t fucking get it.”
But Sofia did, right?
That was fucking hilarious. She didn’t grow up listening to Ward’s bullshit. Didn’t see the kind of things he’d say or did to his oldest child.
Of course, she would take his side. She didn’t know better.
You shook your head, “No, we broke up because you didn’t like me telling the truth. Your dad was a piece of shit, and you know it.”
For a moment, the air went deadly still between you. You could sense his hurt, the way it sneaked between every bitter word.
Then, he did it—the thing you knew he would, that thing that made your blood boil.
Rafe pulled at the back of his neck again, looking like he might’ve ground his teeth to dust. “Oh, I get it now,” he says, his voice thick with condescension. “You’re jealous.”
Your whole body went borderline rigid, like a door, locked in place.
He was standing there, offering you friendship like a pity prize, calling you jealous when you were standing there broken, trying not to fall apart because of him.
“Jealous?” you repeated, in disbelief. “Of your little pogue girlfriend? Please, fucking spare me. You want me to throw a penny at her?”
He stepped closer, his breath quickening. "She’s real, okay? She’s not some polished barbie pretending in front of everyone, just to fall apart behind closed doors."
Ouch. But you could do worse.
"Real huh?" You scoffed, the bitterness in your chest taking over. "Is that what you call it? Someone who doesn’t know the difference between caviar and fucking canned tuna? That’s the 'real' you’ve been slumming it with?"
"At least she doesn’t care about any of this," he snapped, gesturing to the glittering gala that surrounded you both. "She’s not obsessed with keeping up appearances.”
A cold laugh escaped your lips. He must’ve forgotten to look in the mirror today.
"God, you’re so delusional. Do you think I wanted any of this?” You shot him a look that could cut through steel. "I’m not the one faking it. You are. You are still so desperate for Daddy’s approval that you can’t even see what a fucking mess you are."
Rafe's hands flexed at his sides, his fingers twitching. His nostrils flared, and he tilted his head to the side, running his tongue over his teeth like he always did when he was trying to stay calm.”
"I’m not afraid of who I am," His lips barely moved as he spoke, rolling his shoulders back again, standing to his full height. "You spend so much time trying to be perfect, you don’t even know who you are anymore."
He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin, like a predator sizing you up, his eyes locked on yours. You could see his jaw clench, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath as he tried to keep his composure.
You took a step closer, your chest brushing against his, your heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. His gaze flicked downward, scanning your face.
"Is that a joke? You spend so much time trying to be your father, you’ve lost yourself. Do you think I don’t see it? You’re so fucking empty without his approval,” Your voice dipped lower, “You’re so pathetic it’s almost sad."
He clenched his jaw again, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He took a sharp breath through his nose, staring you down with a look that was all Rafe—volatile, unreadable, on the edge of breaking.
Right then and there, Lily burst into the room, her wide eyes taking in the scene like a bomb had just gone off.
"Okay! What is going on in here?" she demanded, her voice sharp but layered with concern. “I could hear you two in the hallway. If something happened, this is not the place to deal with it.”
“You wanna know what happened, Lily?” you started, almost laughing with disbelief. “This motherfucker started seeing someone behind my back. Two months—two fucking months—with no real closure, no answers. And he’s off fucking some pogue.”
“It’s not like that,” He scoffed, pointing a finger in your direction as he took a few steps back, "Don't drag Sofia into this.”
His posture screamed defensiveness, and all you could think was how much you hated the way he said her name. It made you want to throw up, it felt like someone was taking a rusty nail and dragging it down your spine.
He said it so casually, so carelessly, as if it hadn’t ripped you apart. It was the way he said it, with that hint of affection, like she was this delicate, shiny little thing he was protecting, and you—you—were just a threat he had to deal with.
"I'll drag the fucking Pope into this if I have to.”
You were the one who had been there through all his bullshit, you were the one who held him together when everything in his life was falling apart. Now, suddenly, she was the one he spoke about softly. Like she mattered.
It was insulting.
“Guys!”
Lily stepped between you both, throwing her hands up as if she were separating two wild animals about to rip each other apart.
“Please, please calm down. Rafe, I think you should leave. Now."
He looked like he wanted to say more, you knew he had a million things screaming at him beneath the surface, but for once, he stayed silent. Maybe it was the fact that Lily was there, or maybe he finally realized you weren’t going to bite into his bullshit excuses and provocations.
Whatever it was, he took a step back, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, storming past Lily and out of the room.
You could hear the distant sound of the door slamming as he left.
The moment he was gone, you felt your breath coming out in shallow gasps. Your heart dropped to your stomach, your pulse racing.
Lily turned to you; her face full of concern. She reached out and grabbed your shoulders gently.
“Hey,” she whispered, her voice soothing, “Breathe. Just breathe.”
You pressed a hand to your chest, your breath hitching. Pregnant. You were pregnant with his kid, and this was what you got in return.
No peace. No calm.
Your chest tightened, your vision blurring.
“Hey, hey,” She cooed again, her hands on your arms, grounding you. “You’re okay. We’re going to figure this out. Just breathe, okay?”
You couldn’t believe you’d let it get this far—couldn’t believe you were even in this situation.
There was no way you were having his kid.
Absolutely not.
You didn’t even have to think about it. The decision had been made the second he’d defended her and insulted you like you were sidewalk littering.
Tomorrow, you’d take care of it. You’d book the appointment and that would be that. Clean break, no more ties to Rafe Cameron, no more staying in that fucked up twisted cycle with him.
“I really think you need to sit down and breathe for a second. You’re scaring me sweetheart, and honestly, this isn’t good for you.”
Once again, you pondered telling her everything—about breaking down and spilling every ugly detail. But that would make it real.
Your designer dress clung to you in all the wrong ways, as if even the fabric could understand the order going changes in your body.
“Whoever let him in, I want them fired.”
You spat suddenly gaining momentary strength to ruin lives. It wasn’t just a demand; it was an execution order.
The quiet threat of it was more terrifying than your screaming would have been.
Tomorrow, you’d make sure this nightmare ended before it could begin.
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I'll call my dad
The justice league was in disaray. They had failed to stop the summoning, and already the demon was stepping out of the portal. The last standing heros didn't have the manpower to stop a whole thrall army and the magic users certainly hadn't the power to deal with the demon himself. They needed a plan, or a miracle, or the earth was doomed.
Suddenly, Constantine braced himself, and strode right to the beast.
"Don't step further, or I'll have to call my dad."
The heros were baffled. The demon too.
"Your... dad ?"
"That's right," he was sweating bullets but he continued "I'm John Constantine and Phantom is my dad. He cares a lot about Earth. He will not take kindly your little invading stunt."
"Who is Phantom ?" wispered Flash to Zatana.
"I don't know."
The league didn't know if he was bluffing or not. Zatana had recently heard rumors about Constantine's father, but it was all vague, shrouded in secrecy.
The surprised past, the demon laught.
"Alright," he mocked, "Let see what your 'dad' think of that."
Constantine took a deep breath and reluctantly put out a piece of paper form his inner pocket. As he put it in fire with a spell, the cave they were in was breifly plunged in freezing cold and supernatural darkness. A thunderous ice crack resoned, that they could feel in their chest as much as they heard. The shadows sleethed into the form of a titanesque being, and suddenly big, bright, lazarus green eyes opened. And they didn't look happy.
"John."
He gulped.
"Hi dad."
"It's a school night."
"I know," the magician cringed, "I swear I have a good reason."
Now the being looked downright pissed.
"Damn, I would hope so ! Do you have any idea what time it is ?"
"He wants to destroy the Earth !" defended Constantine almost petulantly, waving at the confused demon.
The green eyes looked at the demonic being, then the leaguers in various states of injuries, then the demon again. The demon didn't seem like he wanted to be here anymore. He was proved right when he received a monstruous fist in the face.
The entity grabbed him by an ankle, threw him back to hell, then slammed the portal shut as if it was a door. Constantine visibly relaxed.
"Thanks a lot."
"Don't mention it," grumbled the being. "Anything else you need ?"
"No. And I'm really sorry, I know it's late."
"Just don't make it an habit. See you on sunday."
And just like that, he was gone. Wally had to sit down.
"What the fuck."
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Hi everyone ! I was reminded of that post a while ago where Danny inherited of Connie's soul and decided it counts as adoption (can't find it now) and this is what came to my brain.
#dp x dc#eldritch danny#john constantine#summoning#danny is constantine's dad au#dpxdc#dp x dc crossover
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Girl help I really need to do the test tasks for a new job or else my life is gonna get very bad real soon, but all I want to do is draw ttrpg characters.
#majek says shit#ok so Im jobless since august but I had a safe amount saved to live a little too comfortably until about now#and now I have money left to live relatively normally until January and after that uhhhhh bad 0 money left#I got caught in a trap of “animators are always wanted in gamedev you'll find a job in 2 weeks” thing everyone seems to genuinely believe#turns out every studio on earth is looking for Seniors and Leads or 3D animators that turn out to be 3D generalists able to do everything#from concept to every kind of model optimised for games and texturing and rigging and mocap and keyframe stuff and vfx is also nice#and I'm like “hello am animator know how to make character move. i can give them skeleton but not necessarily if in 2D”#“have a few years of experience in gamedev but got fired just before the premiere of my one title that will list me as animator”#got fired along with many others because the publisher backed out and there was no money to keep most of the artists this close to launch#so far only two studios followed through with the recruitment. one makes casino games and asked me 3 questions through mail#they wanted to know why im looking for a job. have I heard about them before and how much I wanna earn. also added that my personality#should shine through my answers. sure xd. the other is a mocap studio and they want me to do a test. in software I last used 5 years ago#and its mocap which I dont like and know almost nothing about how to do it#and I WANNA DRAW. I made a disaster of a cleric to replace Cayden in the old party and Im itching to draw him properly#also there is secret satan and a whole queue of scenes from recent sessions#including the lase one when Cayden was possessed by an ancient wizard (?) for a few seconds and now has mild ptsd#there were such cool visuals there because he was connected to a tentacle that pierced the back of his neck and his eyes went black#and I had to fight the party from that moment. hit them once with a big fire damage spell and then passed a save. and then failed again#fortunately the party destroyed the artifact that did the posessing and it ended. but my boy simultaneously experienced some cosmic horror#beyond his comprehension. and kinda saw his own hands casting fire at his friends. all while he was fighting in his head with some tentacles#and being watched by first disembodied black eyes and then by a shadowy figure#now he has weird nightmares of more cosmic horror and gets uneasy if he looks at the night sky for too long ;o;#I also have a drawing of the party celebrating their promotion to captains and like 3-4 sketches and one other big scene#in which Cayden has a romantic tension moment with another character while casting prot from evil on them to save them from mind control#also I have a commission to finish that a friend paid for LAST NOVEMBER#but that mocap studio is waiting for this test for so long now I have to do it if its the last thing I do in my life
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One thing I’ve never understood about D&D druids is how they’re so often imagined as stationary. They’re found ‘guarding sacred sites or watching over regions of unspoiled nature’. And, I know. This is mainly because of the imagery and popular imagination around sites like Stonehenge. But.
If I had the druid spell list? I would take Create Bonfire, and I would take Goodberry, and I would take Create or Destroy Water, and I would pack up a sleeping bag, and I would just start walking. Where? Everywhere! What’s down that road? What’s over that hill? What’s up this river? What’s past this forest? What’s over those dunes? Let’s go see! I can’t starve. I can’t parch. I can’t freeze. I can go forever. So I’m gonna.
Honestly, the druid should be the picture of the wandering vagabond. They have everything they need. You can just walk and keep walking, wherever the wanderlust takes you. You wanna go across an ocean? You can make drinking water. Ships should pay to carry you. You wanna go across a desert? A baby druid with one level and 2 measly spell slots under their belt can still make food and a gallon of water a day for 10 people. Druids should be the explorers, the navigators, the pathfinders. They can travel endlessly, without hurting that which they pass through, the very picture of ‘leave nothing but your footprints’. They can walk the earth, stopping here or there along the way to help where they need to help, and fight what they need to fight, and then they can move on again.
Yes, some druids get tired and settle down. Circles are formed, and that’s how baby druids get their starts, finding a circle. And some areas do need a permanent circle to defend or watch over them. But I do think there should be more of a picture, more of an image, more of an option, for the druid as the wanderer, the rover, the vagabond. A pocket full of berries and a wave of a hand for some rain. Just head out and follow your feet. What could stop you?
(Particularly the Stars druid, my beloved. Could there be a better picture of a navigator? That’s where a Stars druid belongs, at the prow of a ship, or guiding their people across trackless dunes, or carrying news across vast ice fields under an endless polar night to keep tiny isolated hamlets connected. Follow the stars, follow your feet. Yes, accomplish things in the process, but the journey itself is also enough. Just walk. Go. The stars will guide you).
Sorry. In real life, so often, I just really want to see what’s down that road, or over that hill. And, like. As a druid you could just go. You have all you need from a standing start. Well. You’ll have to get clothes and good boots and shit, but you can totally feed and water yourself for completely free and regardless of natural resources out there.
More druid wanderers, is my point here. Yes, still some druids guarding henges and forests, but more druids just walking about, poking their noses into things. There is no better spell list to indulge your wanderlust and curiosity. And that’s without getting into wildshape and the eventual ability to explore under the oceans and into the air. There’s a whole world full of nature. You don’t have to tie yourself to one little bit, unless you want to.
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But the other images I had was like a mass refugee camp. So basically at that point in time, two months ago, about 20,000 people had sought refuge both in the hospital and outside the hospital. And these weren’t tents. They’re still not tents. They’re makeshift shelters with bed sheets or plastic bag sheets. The ones outside sleep on the floor. They’re lucky [if] they get a carpet or a mat. There was one bathroom at the time for about 200 people that they have to share. And inside, the hallways of the hospital were also made into shelters. There was hardly any room to walk, and there’s children running around everywhere. It’s important to remember all these people were not homeless. They all had homes that were destroyed. They’re all displaced people that took shelter in the hospital.
So that’s the kind of mass chaos that I encountered initially, and then I was told that every time there’s a bomb, give it about 15 minutes and the mass casualties come. That was the other thing that at the time shocked me: What we’d been seeing livestreamed on Instagram, on social media or whatever, I actually saw myself and it was worse than I can imagine. I saw scenes that were horrific that I’d never witnessed before and I never want to see again. You have a mother walking in holding her 8, 9-year-old, skinny — because they’re all starving — boy who’s dead, he’s cold and dead and [the mother is] screaming, asking for someone to check his pulse and everybody’s busy in the mass chaos. So that was kind of my initial welcoming scene when I entered Khan Younis the first time.
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What I saw — I’m an eye surgeon, an eye plastic surgeon, and so I saw the classic, what I penned “the Gaza shrapnel face,” because in an explosive scenario, you don’t know what’s coming. When there’s an explosion, you don’t go like this [cover your face], you kind of actually, in fact, open your eyes. And so shrapnel’s everywhere. It’s a well-known fact that the Israeli forces are experimenting [with] weapons in Gaza to boost their weapon manufacturing industry. Because if a weapon is battle-tested, it’s more valuable, isn’t it? It’s got a higher value. So basically they’re using these weapons, these missiles that purposely, intently create these large shrapnel fragments that go everywhere. And they cause amputations that are unusual.
Most amputations occur at the weak points, the elbow or the knee, and so they’re better tolerated. But these [shrapnel fragments] are causing mid-thigh, mid-arm amputations that are more difficult, more challenging, and also the rehabilitation afterward is also more challenging. Also these shrapnels [are] unlike a bullet wound. A bullet wound goes in and out; there’s an entry and exit point. Shrapnel stays there. So you gotta take it out. So the injuries I saw were — I mean, I saw people with their eyes blown apart. And when I was there, and this is my experience, I treated all children when I was there the first time. It was kids that [were aged] 2, 6, 9, 10, 13, 15, and 16, and 17 were the ones that I treated. And their eyes unfortunately had to be removed. They had shrapnel in their eye sockets that I had to remove and, of course, remove the eye. There’s many patients, many children who had shrapnel in both their eyes. And you can only do so much because right now, because of the aid blockade and because of the destruction of most of Gaza, there’s no equipment available to take shrapnel that’s in the eye out. And so we just leave them alone and they eventually go blind.
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I was on the ground, I toured the refugee camps, I went around Rafah, I saw, and if there’s an Israeli invasion, I can’t emphasize enough how catastrophic it’s going to be. It’ll be mass killing, mass destruction, because all these figures come in, 50 dead, 100 wounded. But what people don’t realize is, being wounded is a death sentence. Being wounded in this environment with no health care system, completely collapsed, is a death sentence. And the wounded often will lose everybody, like all family members, so they have no supports, especially children, have nobody left to take care of them, not even aunts and uncles. It will be catastrophic. I don’t know what to say to the world to stop an impending invasion. You’ve got to rein this prime minister of Israel in. You got to do something to stop this stupid invasion that he still wants to do, because it’ll be catastrophic.
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I had one young man, about 25 years old, he lost one eye that I took out myself. He spent about five, six, or seven years, basically spent thousands and thousands of dollars in IVF treatment because he got married young and they wanted to have a child and they couldn’t have one. So he spent years on IVF treatment and finally had a baby that was 3 months old. And there was a missile attack by Israel at his home. He lost his entire family, including his baby and his wife and his parents and family. He’s by himself, single guy. I took his one eye out, and he has nobody in this world. He just kind of walks around the tent structures, just kind of walking around with no home and trying to sleep wherever he can.
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