#we were literally from all corners of the earth there was groups of us in each continent...

[cravingcoldoreocake123]

Choose to love

• You ignore everyone’s warnings and fall in love with him, but how well will that turn out for you?

• Warnings: Angst, unprotected sex, written porn (literally, find out for yourself ;) ), female reader, fluff, use of y/n, Happy ending. —————————————𝜗𝜚———————————-

“How hard is it for you to stop ignoring me and pretend you don’t love sneaking into my room every night?” You push him by the chest but it doesn’t seem to startle him nor does he stumble back upon the impact, and it frustrates you even more. How could he be so nonchalant and muggy? What does he even get out of pretending you mean nothing to him, you’ll never know. Heat floods your cheeks as you remember the endless amount of times he bumped your shoulder making you trip while also making sure to not spare you even one glance, or when you waved at him and all you received back were nonchalant glares instead of a smile or a wave, and you lower your hand as his dirty group of friends make fun of your pathetic attempt to talk to him.

You woke up earlier every day just to look pretty for him, you put on more makeup than you did before him, washed your hair and dried it, curled it even. Put on your nicest clothes, that you were now running out of and checked yourself in the mirror for what seemed like the millionth time, inspecting your face closely in case he spots a flaw you missed. The thing is, you put in a lot of effort for him, you wanted to look so pretty he wouldn’t even think of looking at another girl. You headed to grab breakfast with Astoria, you filled your plate less and less every day, trying to keep your weight in check while making sure he doesn’t think of you as less classy or less feminine, which didn’t make sense at all. Sure he was in your room every other night telling you how much he loves fucking you full of his cum, but for some reason he couldn’t act right when you’re around others.

“I forgot we even had homework, Snape’s gonna give me an earful today, ugh.” Astoria groans as you two walk arm in arm to the dining hall. “Wait, he gave us homework?! I don’t remember Snape… what?” You stop in your tracks when your sight lands on Matteo’s arm around a little blonde as she buries her head deep in his neck, giggling, making Astoria trip and drop her books. “What on earth are you doing?” She lowers down to grab her belongings, and raises her head to glance at you, but her face drops as soon as she follows your sight, “No. He. Didn’t.”

“I’m sure they’re just friends… right? I mean he- he wouldnt…?” You weren’t sure if you were lying to yourself to feel better, or to Astoria to not look like a complete fool. She had an idea of what was going on between you two and she did warn you of him, but to no avail. “Honey… she’s practically sucking him dry of his blood, “friends” don’t do that.” Your heart quite literally falls down to your ass. You couldn’t tell when you started crying, but multiple tears followed as soon as the first one dropped, sliding and pooling on your chin.

Astoria nudged your arm and pulled you slightly to follow her to your table, but your body refused to move, and your eyes couldn’t dare rip away from the sight in front of you. You were sure you made a fool of yourself, the hairs on your skin stood up as you suddenly became conscious of your surroundings, you could hear every whisper, every laugh and every snicker, and you were certain they were about you, every pair of eyes was glued on you and it made you feel trapped, you didn’t know whether to head to your table and pretend like nothing happened or to run out and not look back, whichever it was, you begged your feet to move and put you out of your misery, but your knees almost gave out as he looked your way, his sweet eyes carefully lingered on your body, and then finally landed on your own.

You felt nauseous as he tilted his head to the side in an attempt to provoke you, and the right corner of his lip lifted, flashing you his white teeth in an innocent little smirk. You felt more anger than pain at that moment, and you didn’t know how or when, but your legs carried you his way. The girl that was previously sat on his lap smelled trouble and wiggled her way out of his arms and went on her merry way before you reached them. You stopped in front of him and Astoria ran behind you pulling you from the scene. “It’s not worth it, he’s not worth it let’s go.” But you wanted to hurt him, you wanted him to feel the stinging you felt when you saw him with her, when he ignored you, when he embarrassed you, and when he creeped his way out of your bed the mornings after like a little skeez. So you smiled at him, and raised your palm as high as you could and landed it on his cheek, as hard as you could.

His face turned the other way around due to the… impact. And his friends snickered and gasped around the table, “Didn’t know you had that in you, y/n.” Draco snickered, “Shut up or it’ll be you next, Malfoy.” Astoria responded, crossing her arms and glaring at him, and god if looks could kill Malfoy would have been six feet deep minutes ago. Your attention turned back to Mattheo as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking at his friends and then you, and you couldn’t quite decipher what emotion his eyes held, you were sure it wasn’t regret considering his actions, but he seemed sorrowful… somehow. “Let’s not do this here, it’s not anyone’s business knowing what’s going on.” He stood up and tried to drag you along with him out of the room. However, you snatched your arm away from his grip and came closer to his face, “But you made it everyone’s business when she was sucking you dry of your blood and grinding down on your dick in front of everyone, remember?”

Mattheo stood up and stared at you for a good couple of seconds, before he bent down a little and picked you up and threw you over his shoulder like you weighed absolutely nothing. You hit and clawed his back and screamed at him to let you down but he walked away from the swarm of students all the way back to his dorm. “Put me down right now Mattheo! I’ll kick your face off.” However, despite your threats he didn’t stop and continued on walking. He finally reached his door, got in and kicked it shut with his foot. You scrunched your nose at the familiar smell of smoke and his cologne lingering in the room, and as he sets you down on his bed you recall the numerous times he put you down like this but under different circumstances, ones where he’d strip you both naked of clothes and make you take him like the good girl you are, you felt your core leaking at the memories but that couldn’t distract you enough from what he had done to you.

You stood up feeling nauseous and lost, you stumbled a bit and he extended his hands to try and steady you, but you backed up as tears started streaming down your face again. “No, no you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to break me then pick me up and try to glue me back together. You don’t get to give me the world and take it away from me that easily, God i- What does she have that I don’t, Mattheo? What did she give you that I didn’t? How could you make me feel like I was the only girl in the world then go and humiliate me like that? I don’t even know why I chose to ignore everyone’s warnings and let you make me so vulnerable like this, why could’t you prove them wrong Mattheo? Why?” You stopped to catch your breath but he took that opportunity to pull you flat to him and kiss you like he craved your lips for years on end. He cradled your face in his hands so delicately and kissed your tears away.

Your hand tangled in his hair, and you kissed him back with the same fiery passion, your tongues both stained of the salt in your tears, but it was short lived as you pushed him off of you and shook your head. “I can’t. I can’t let you in again. You’ve hurt me bad enough that it’ll scar me for a good while, I can’t let myself allow you to do it again.” Your eyes brimmed with tears and you hated yourself for it, you hated how weak and helpless he made you feel. But when you loved, you loved with every fiber in your being, so when shit backfires and goes wrong, you knew damn well it was gonna break you whole. Your knees started to give out at the wrong time, and you tried to hold yourself up but you still felt dizzy, this time he rushed to your side and held you ignoring your pleas for him to get away from you. “I’m here, okay? Please at least just let me take care of you right now, you can barely stand lovie.” Your heart warmed at the nickname, and you turned your face to stare at his with tired eyes, cursing at yourself for letting him get so close to you.

He picked you up again in his arms and set you down on his bed, he then rushed to get a cup of water and held it up to your lips as you looked up at him with bambi eyes. “There you go, good girl.” The cold water felt so soothing on your burning throat, and you closed you eyes savoring the feeling for a sweet while. He sets the cup down when you whine as a sign for him to stop, and he soon gets on the bed next to you. He sets his arm on your waist and pulls you close to his chest, and you let him. You laid your head on him and your muscles relaxed hearing his heartbeat. Your heart still felt heavy, and the scene of him smirking directly at you while she was on top of him still plagued your mind. He felt you tense up, and he raised his hands to your tear stained cheeks, and kissed your puffy eyes. “I always fucked up the things I love. I never felt important or secure, so now commitment scares me, it scares the shit out of me, I’m so scared i’ll get deserted by those I love so I just… leave before I get left, in attempt to save me and my feelings but I never thought of how it would make others feel. I realized you meant more to me than just a hookup, god my hands shook when I laid my eyes on you and my head hurt trying to comprehend how someone so fucking perfect could have interest in me. You scared me, I had never seen someone so delicate and angelic, you-” He stopped to stare at you, and suddenly his tears turned glassy with tears. Your eyebrows raised and your lips parted in shock to see him letting out such emotions. He sniffed and caressed your face, “I dreamed of you almost every night, and i thought about during the day, you never escaped my mind and it horrified me how someone else had such control over me, and me being the dumb fuck I am, I tried to suppress my feelings for you, and I tried to ignore you and hurt you so that you’d forget me, but it destroyed me inside. I was so scared of loving you, but I am terrified to not be able to do so now. Merlin, please forgive me, please forgive me. I had no idea what I was doing.” You looked up at him to find his face all red of shame, and his eyes wet with tears. You reached down to find him digging his nails so deep into his skin that blood started seeping out. He relaxed at your touch and let you interlock your fingers with his.

You leaned and kissed him, and he had never felt alive until then. You threw your arms around him and he deepened the kiss even more as he trapped you in his arms and switched your positions so that he was on top, and you were stuck under him. He pulled away to say something but you couldn’t let him away from you, and you latched your lips on his again. He whined as you bit his lip and you took that chance to slip your tongue in his mouth. His hands immediately grabbed your back and flipped you on your stomach, you yelped in surprise and he grinded down on your ass. “I’ve never seen such a pretty thing, you are everything I have dreamed of. I’m so sorry, let me make it up to you, lovie.”

You moaned as he kept grinding on you, you had missed feeling all of him against you. He latched his lips on your neck marking it and you threw your hand back to tug at his hair, but he grabbed both of your hands and held them behind you. “I missed my girl so much, no one could ever compare to you.” His other hand had flown to your exposed thighs, gripping them as he sucked at your sweet spot, and when you moaned his name, he felt like he was going to lose it. He wandered higher and under you skirt, pushed your soaked panties aside and slipped a finger in you, pumping it slowly in and out of you. He twitched and leaked at every sweet little sound you made, he had missed you more than life, and everything he had screwed up- everything he tried to fix- he was certain you were his reward.

He pulled his finger out of you and put it to your lips to let you taste yourself, and he moaned at the sight, his dick ached to be inside of you. “God you are so fucking pretty.” You smiled shyly at the compliment, but you felt empty due to the lack of contact so you rutted along his cock, and he cursed at the feeling. He felt how soaked you were though the thick material of his jeans, and he smiled at how warm your cunt was for him. He flips you again to face him, and the smile still lingered on his lips at your beauty. He hurriedly takes your clothes off, leaving you in your underwear only, and he kisses you from your forehead all the way down to your clothed pussy. He strips you of your panties as well and the sight of it alone made him feel like he was gonna cum right there and then. He raises his face to kiss you gently before freeing himself of his clothes.

Your eyes wander down to his cock as he pumped himself a few times, and your cheeks redden at his length, he was big. Sure you had seen him and he has been inside you before but you never got used to his size. “You okay sweet girl?” You nod at him feeling a loss for words. “If you want me to stop just tap my shoulder, got it baby?” The effect this man had on you was ungodly, you couldn’t dare tear your eyes away from him, if god had favorites he was certainly at the top of the list. “Use your words honey.” He snaps you back to reality and you suddenly feel shy under his gaze. “I got it, I’m good.” “Good girl.” He says before he lines himself with your entrance and your hands fly to grip his broad shoulders, and he shoves himself inside of you slowly to not overwhelm you. The moment your velvet walls grips his cock, his shackles crumble and he sighs shakily at the feeling. You feel him lay his weight on you as he gripped your neck and hip to fuck you as deep as he could.

He started off slow and gentle so you’d get used to him, and as soon as he felt your body relax against him he picked up the pace, his hand wrapped around your neck keeps you grounded, and he squeezes it enough to make your eyes roll back from the amount of pleasure you’re feeling. His other hand slid to your tits, gripping them and rolling your nipples between his slender fingers, “My hands are yours.”

his cock fucked into your poor cunt even harder and somehow deeper, forcing you to grip the sheets at the feeling. “My cock’s yours.”

He kept fucking you as he angled his head down to reach your lips and he planted a sweet kiss on them. “My lips are yours.”

He grabbed your hand and put it to his chest, right above his fast beating heart, he made sure to let your hand there long enough you could feel it beating out of his chest. “And my heart’s sure as hell yours too, lovie.” Your own heart fluttered at his words, and you felt overwhelmed at how good he was making you feel. His hand still held your own tightly and you scratched his chest, arching your back as you cried out his name. “Fuck Mattheo. I’m.. close.” You could barely form words, and you dared to open your eyes and look at him, only to find him already admiring you, you couldn’t handle it and your cunt squeezed him tight. He groaned and choked your neck, nothing feels better than him buried balls deep inside you, fucking you full of his load.

Stars dotted your vision, and you used every ounce of energy you had left in you to wrap your legs around him, pulling him even closer, and he took that as a challenge to fuck you even better at that angle, and you felt your orgasm rocking through your body. “Are you close, princess? I can feel you squeezing me, honey.” He giggles a little and kisses the tip of your nose. “You’re gonna be the death of me. You’re taking me so well, love. You’re doing so good f’me.” His sweet words throw you over the edge and you moan as you release yourself on his dick, and he reaches his hand down between your bodies to rub your clit and overstimulate you. He buries his head in your neck as he feels himself getting closer, and you bite his shoulder as he abused it.

“I’m- I’m cumming- fuck-” his movements slow as he reaches his high, and you feel him fall limp on top of you after he pumps his cock in and out of you a few more times. He stays like that for a little while, and you raise your hands to play with his soft curls. He throws his arms around you and savors the moment, kissing your neck every now and then. “Thank you, for letting me in. I’m not gonna let anything or anyone hurt you, I love you.. I’m in love with you. I love you so much.” He looks up at you with his sweet eyes searching yours for a reply, and you flash him your sugary smile and his heart melts all over again. “I’ve loved you for a long time and I’m not planning on stopping.” You say, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and leans to your lips to kiss you so delicately, smiling between kisses.

“Do you want to go eat, lovie?”

“I can’t really move, Mattheo.” You say shyly, and he smirks at you as he gets up from the bed. And he cleans you and himself before helping you put your clothes back on, “I’ll carry you.” He shrugs, putting his shirt on. “Are you crazy? Everyone will know we fucked then.” You shook your head at him, straightening your skirt. “As if everyone doesn’t already know. You were screaming my name, darling, they know.”

[jadeshifting]

i'm not sure if you already answered this buuuut i saw that you have a twd dr so i was wondering if you had ANY ideas (scenarios, advices, stuff to script) of how to make an apocalyptic dr (twd or not, it doesn't matter!) safe YET still interesting?

like i'm thinking about making a original one but idk if i'm keeping zombies/infected in (and maybe script that they're pretty much chill?? like they're there just for the vibe or something idk LMAOOO) or if i'm going with a "last persons on earth" kind of plot without any real danger (kinda boring maybe idk but at least it's pretty much 100% safe) and i'm/we're just exploring the now abandoned world, doing whatever we want kinda? aaaaa idk sorry i'm rambling!!! and maybe i'm not even making any sense omg

ANYWAY!!! LONG STORY SHORT: how to make a safe yet interesting apocalyptic dr? (and thx for your help<3)

hi !! happy to have another apocalypse shifter on my blog, i love a good apocalypse DR i think about them constantly

zombies there for the vibe & being chill made me laugh not them being background props LMAOOO but i get what u mean !! u could always script little things like they always walk, they’re not particularly fast or strong, or get rid of the concept of herds completely and script that they always travel alone or in small clusters.. maybe that their bite force isn’t all that strong and they have a hard time biting through jeans or other tough materials, so people wouldn’t be getting bitten through clothes as often. those are pretty basic ways to make them a lot less dangerous i think?

i vibe with the end-of-the-world exploring everything concept soooo much, i literally ramble about it in this post where i talk about the things i’m looking forward to in my walking dead DR, its a concept i love and one that i think could be so much fun with the right group of people, or intensely therapeutic and interesting if you did it alone !! don’t apologize babe i was born to understand your visions 🧘‍♀️

okay, so i’ve actually cracked the code to the apocalyptic multiverse… my secret weapon… to achieve an interesting but safe DR… the answer to it all… is under the cut… if u dare………

— LUCK :^) ( aka the secret weapon to surviving the apocalypse without getting rid of the plot )

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“I AM CONSISTENTLY AND PRETERNATURALLY LUCKY.”

cause that’s what makes things happen at the end of the day, right? you can be the most prepared, stocked up, and ready to handle the world, and still die at the hands of a creaky floorboard or an unlucky maneuver. that’s kind of what the apocalypse is all about—it treats everyone equally

being an uncannily lucky person influences things in a variety of seemingly tiny ways, ranging from small conveniences to life-saving occurrences :

⋆˙♱ a walker bites you, but it’s teeth don’t manage to get through your pants—so you’re fine

⋆˙♱ bullets miss you by a fraction of an inch, so close you can feel them pass you by—but they don’t hit you

⋆˙♱ you go through every pump at some abandoned ripped-through gas station, and the last pump somehow has a little bit left—just enough for you to get where you’re going

⋆˙♱ trekking through the woods and a rainstorm that kind of irritates you manages to wash away your tracks in the mud—no one can follow you now, and you didn’t even know they were

⋆˙♱ a vending machine you stumble across has one bag of chips still teetering at the edge, tucked towards the corner where no one saw it

⋆˙♱ you drop your knife fighting a walker, but it tumbles into the stream and you find it in the water a mile up the river—you’d already given up on getting it back

⋆˙♱ someone sneaking up on you happens to step on a loose floorboard, which groans loudly—it alerts you with just enough time to run or fight

⋆˙♱ your backpack rips, and you stumble across a mostly-used roll of duct tape not an hour later—there's just enough left to seal the rip

⋆˙♱ your group dismissed the old, rusty revolver you stumbled across because it looks so beaten-up there's no way it works—it fires clean on your first try

⋆˙♱ the rickety ladder you come across, one that groans and is horribly splintered, holds just long enough for you to climb it—it falls apart the moment you no longer need it

⋆˙♱ as a herd surrounds your hideout, a horrific storm rolls through and you think things could not get any worse—the pelting rain and roaring noise confuses and scatters the herd away from you

⋆˙♱ sometimes when walkers are chasing you, they trip over roots or rocks and they faceplant into the ground. ( maybe this one isn't even luck, walkers are fucking stupid )

this is a scripting tool i use in tons of my dangerous DRs, to circumvent getting busted up all the time

the important thing here is that the LUCK aspect doesn’t take away from the plot or anything interesting happening. you still get attacked or fight, get into sticky situations, have crazy things happen or follow the events of any show/movie you may be scripting for, but you’re lucky enough to walk out unscathed without it being some magical or unrealistic thing !! it makes it more interesting to find yourself consistently pretty successful, in my opinion. you stumble across cool things, escape bad situations and live to tell the tale.

sisyphus suffers for a reason, and it’d be the same thing in the apocalypse if you were constantly pushing forward and surviving, only for something awful to happen, and you to suffer a grievous injury or loss, over and over and over again. trying to make the best of things but taking hit after hit would be miserable, you know? that’s the biggest change i made to my DR that differentiates it from the source media (the walking dead for me) is that things do get better, and we do have good days, and we are working towards a peaceful future that we will eventually reach. a lot of that is luck, in my opinion !!

thank u for the message and happy shifting !! i’ll probs post some scenario ideas for apocalypse DRs soon, but in the meantime i hope u got something helpful from this in terms of danger prevention, mwah :^)

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[rd0265667]

Magenta x Reader: Of Seasons and Symphonies

A/N: This is a fic that might not catch as many of your eyes, given that Qwer and Magenta aren't as big as the usual groups I write for, but I do hope you guys read this and hope this helps to kickstart the QWER fanfic community

Spring

This isn’t a fairytale. Not even close. Fairytales don’t begin in places like this, where hope feels like a ghost, faint and fleeting, like it’s forgotten why it came in the first place. Once upon a time, the world was flawed but breathtaking—messy and wild in a way that almost felt intentional, like it was daring us to do better. We had room to grow, to screw up, to try again. Choices, too—ones we didn’t always get right, but at least they were ours.

But now? Now, you look out the window and see what’s left. A fractured mosaic of humanity, held together by threads so fragile they shimmer, ready to snap under their own weight. Down there, in the shadows of something that used to matter, people don’t live so much as survive, clawing their way through each day because the alternative isn’t any better. And up here, in a palace of glass and gleaming steel, you just watch. Helpless. Or worse—complicit. You wished you could do something about it. But everything had changed too quickly, and now, there is nothing to do but watch.

The world didn’t fall apart slowly. It didn’t even give us time to grieve what we were losing. One moment, there was a path forward; the next, the ground had disappeared under our feet. But even then, we had a chance to fix it. We could’ve fought for what was left, planted our feet, and rebuilt. Instead, we ran.

We turned our backs on the flames and pointed to the stars. Mars. It started like all big ideas do—idealistic, hopeful, wildly expensive. A handful of the world’s wealthiest pooled their fortunes to terraform a planet and call it paradise. And in a way, it worked. Mars became everything Earth could no longer be—pristine, abundant, perfect. A utopia, if you could afford the price of entry.

At first, it was just the billionaires who boarded the ships, their wealth carving out seats for their families and a few carefully chosen friends. Then it was the upper class, the “almost rich,” their one-way tickets bought with every penny they had. The rest of us stayed behind, watching the rockets vanish into the atmosphere, one by one, taking the future with them.

Governments tried to step in, to level the playing field, but the math never added up. The cost of salvation was always just out of reach. What remained of Earth became a pyramid scheme of survival. At the top, the upper-middle class lived comfortably enough to forget how bad things really were, literally living upon mountains, as if to emphasise their self supposed superiority. Below them, the rest of humanity scraped by, scavenging scraps of a once-golden age, living more like cave dwellers than citizens of the 21st century.

“Focus,” your mother snapped, her sharp tone slicing through the room like the crack of a whip. You dragged your gaze away from the window, back to the banquet table, its surface an explosion of opulence. Gilded plates, sparkling crystal, an array of dishes so rich and vibrant they almost looked alive. Lifeless. It was suffocating. Just like everything else here.

“Apologies, Mother,” you murmured, though the words felt as hollow as the polished silver centerpiece. You should be used to this by now. The rigidness, the rehearsed movements, the unspoken rules that turned every family meal into a performance. And yet, it still felt foreign.

“As I was saying,” your mother continued, turning to the butler who stood stiffly in the corner, “the trespassing problem. What’s the latest update, Beakley?”

Beakley cleared his throat, his voice as measured and flat as always. “There has been an uptick in attempts to breach the mountain barriers. The enforcement units have dealt with the intruders.”

Dealt with. Such a tidy little phrase for what he really meant.

“And those trying to leave?” your mother pressed.

Beakley didn’t miss a beat. “A few individuals have been caught attempting to descend into the slums. They were… managed.”

“Sneaking into the slums?” your father scoffed, his voice thick with amusement. “How utterly moronic.” He chuckled, low and earthy, and your siblings joined in, their laughter ringing out like the clink of champagne flutes.

You didn’t laugh. You couldn’t. You just sat there, hands clenched in your lap, forcing your face into an expression that wouldn’t betray the disgust curling in your stomach.

They laughed. Laughed as the world burned.

The dinner continued with that lifeless conversation, you and your siblings finally being excused. As you gazed out from your balcony, you sighed, looking out at the open lands below you. It smelt of Spring. You used to love Spring.

You leaned against the railing, letting your gaze drift across the dark landscape. That’s when you noticed it—a break in the fence. Small, almost unnoticeable, but there. A jagged edge where the metal had bent or rusted away. No guards patrolled nearby.

And then, you heard it.

A voice, soft and low, carried on the breeze, accompanied by the twang of a bass guitar. A song, lilting and sweet, threaded with melancholy so raw it made your chest tighten. The melody danced just beyond reach, but the voice—hers—was unmistakable. It wasn’t just singing; it was an invitation. A tether to something real, something alive, somewhere down there in the darkness.

You pressed a hand to the cold railing, your pulse quickening. For the first time in ages, you felt something stir in you—something reckless, something alive.

The song lingered in the air, tugging at you like a thread unraveling a tightly wound spool. You gripped the railing, your knuckles white against the polished metal, and stared at the jagged tear in the fence below. The world up here, pristine and glittering, suddenly felt suffocating—an artificial cage that smelled of rosewater and desperation. Down there, in the shadows beyond the break in the fence, was something raw and untamed. Real.

Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat urging you forward. You stepped back into your room, quickly pulling on a dark coat over your dinner clothes, its hood heavy enough to mask your face. There was no time to think, no time to second-guess what you were about to do.

The halls were silent, their marble floors gleaming under soft, calculated lighting. You moved quickly, your steps light, your breath shallow. The guards wouldn’t expect anyone to leave the compound. Why would they? No one in their right mind would trade gilded cages for the chaos below.

But the chaos was calling you.

You slipped through a side door near the kitchens, your pulse quickening as the cold night air wrapped around you. The fence wasn’t far, the jagged edge glinting faintly in the moonlight. You crouched low, keeping to the shadows as you moved closer, every rustle of the wind making you freeze in place.

When you reached the fence, your fingers brushed the rough metal, and you hissed as a sharp edge nicked your palm. You ignored the sting and pressed on, tugging at the damaged section. The metal groaned, loud enough to send a spike of panic through your chest.

“Come on,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat.

Finally, the gap was wide enough. You slipped through, the jagged edges catching on your coat as you emerged on the other side. The ground here was different—uneven and raw, dirt kicking up beneath your shoes. You were outside the perimeter for the first time in your life.

For a moment, you just stood there, your breath clouding in the night air, the fence a silent sentinel behind you. And then you heard it again—the song.

It was closer now, the voice clearer, rich and haunting. The melody wound through the darkness like a ribbon, pulling you forward. You followed it, your steps cautious at first, then quicker as the song grew louder. The air smelled different here, earthier, filled with the sharp tang of something alive.

She was sitting under a cherry tree, the blossoms stark and ghostly in the moonlight, her bass guitar resting across her lap. Her fingers moved over the strings with a practiced ease that made the song feel effortless, though you could hear the ache in every note. Her head tilted slightly, the movement revealing sharp cheekbones and the soft curve of her mouth, a contrast that stole the air from your lungs.

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped until the music did.

Her head snapped up, and her eyes—dark and unflinching—landed on you. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Then she stood, the guitar hanging loosely from its strap over her shoulder, and planted her boots firmly on the ground.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the stillness.

The warmth of her song was gone, replaced by a razor-sharp edge that made you hesitate. She crossed her arms, her stance radiating defiance, as if daring you to take one more step.

“I…” You faltered, suddenly feeling foolish. What could you say that wouldn’t make this worse? “I heard your song.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You heard my song?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “And you thought that was an invitation to waltz on over like this is your backyard?”

“No,” you said quickly, your heart pounding. “It’s not like that. I just… I couldn’t stay up there anymore.”

Her eyes narrowed, her gaze dropping to your coat, your shoes—both of which were far too clean, far too well-made for anyone who belonged here. “Up there,” she echoed, her voice thick with disdain. “Of course.”

She stepped closer, and you could feel the tension radiating off her in waves. “Let me guess,” she said. “You got bored of your glass palace? Thought you’d come slumming it with the rest of us for a little excitement?”

Her words hit like a slap, but you held your ground. “It’s not like that,” you said, your voice firmer now. “I left because… because I needed to. I can’t explain it, but when I heard you—”

“Oh, I see,” she interrupted, her tone mocking. “You heard a pretty song and decided to go on a little adventure. Must be nice to have that kind of freedom.”

“It’s not freedom,” you said, your chest tightening. “There’s nothing free about it. You think I don’t know what this means? That I don’t know what’ll happen if they catch me down here?”

For the first time, her expression faltered. Her eyes flicked to the fence in the distance, then back to you, as if weighing your words against her instincts. “Then why risk it?” she asked quietly, the sharpness in her voice giving way to something softer. “Why come down here at all?”

You hesitated, struggling to put it into words. “Your song was the first real thing I’ve experienced in, ages.” You took a step closer, your voice dropping. “It felt real. Like I could finally breathe.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her guitar. “Well, that’s poetic,” she muttered, but her voice lacked its earlier bite.

“It’s true,” you said, taking another step. “And I think you know it too.”

She glanced back at you, her eyes searching yours as if trying to decide whether to trust you. “You’re really not like the rest of them, are you?” she asked, her voice softer now, tinged with curiosity.

You shook your head. “No. I’m not.”

For a moment, the only sound was the wind rustling through the trees. Then she sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “Magenta,” she said abruptly.

You blinked. “What?”

“My name,” she said, her lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Figured I should tell you, since you’re apparently risking life and limb to hear my music.”

“Your real name is Magenta? What’s the meaning behind it?” You ask.

“My parents weren’t poets, neither am I, my name’s Magenta, that’s that.”

“Magenta,” you repeated, the name settling on your tongue like a secret. “It suits you.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” she said, though her smirk lingered. “You’re still a rich kid trespassing in my world.”

“And you’re still just a singer with a bass guitar,” you said, unable to hide your grin.

Her laugh was quiet but genuine, and it sent warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re trouble,” she said, shaking her head. “I can already tell.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, your gaze locked on hers. “But so are you.”

She didn’t deny it. Instead, she looked at you with a mixture of exasperation and intrigue, her walls cracking just enough to let you see the person beneath. The distance between you felt smaller now, the night pressing in around you, making the world seem impossibly close.

“What song was that? An original creation?” you asked, sliding down to sit beside her. You leaned back against the cherry tree, your eyes drifting toward the fields stretching before you—worn paths of dirt and grass where people like Magenta’s family likely lived, their lives tethered to the earth in a way you hadn’t known in years.

“It is. I call it Rough,” she replied, tossing you an apple from her bag with a casual flick of her wrist. “You like it?”

You caught it, weighing the fruit in your hand before biting into it. The sweet juice dripped down your chin as you spoke, your voice laced with the faintest amusement. “You do realize I’m risking my life to hear it, right?”

Magenta raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye. “Guess I’m just that good.”

You chuckled but didn’t let go of the question lingering in your mind. “I have to ask, though… is that song for anybody? It sounds… kind of romantic.”

She hesitated, her fingers absently picking at the strings of her guitar. The night felt suddenly heavier, as if the air itself were waiting for her answer. “I don’t know,” she said after a moment, her voice softer, almost unsure. “The lyrics just came to me one spring day, you know? Like they were already there, waiting to be sung.” She turned her gaze away from you for a moment, staring out over the fields. “Guess sometimes the songs write themselves. Maybe I’ll know why the song chose me one day.”

“And you say you’re not a poet.” You say, your eyes with a teasing glint.

“Oh shut it rich kid, or I’ll stop singing.” Magenta teases back, nudging you with her shoulder, her velvet smile more beautiful than anything you had seen in years. Perhaps the most beautiful thing you’d ever see

Summer

The summer sun hung heavy in the sky, draping the orchard in a golden haze. Everything smelled like ripe fruit and freshly turned earth, the kind of heady sweetness that clung to your skin long after you left. You wound your way through rows of cherry trees, the bag over your shoulder growing heavier with each step, though you couldn’t quite summon the energy to care. You already knew where she’d be.

And you were right. Magenta sat perched on the low branch of that same old cherry tree, her guitar resting on her lap, its worn wood catching the sunlight like it belonged there. Her hair shimmered as though she were something out of a dream—or maybe something sharper, something too smart and too fleeting to pin down. She glanced up when she heard your steps crunching over the dry grass and gave you that grin—the one that always landed somewhere between playful and cutting, like a dare and an invitation rolled into one.

“Took you long enough,” she said, her voice lilting in that teasing way that made it impossible to tell if she was actually annoyed or just liked keeping you on edge. Probably the latter.

“I had to smuggle this past a fence, you know,” you said, jerking your chin toward the overstuffed bag weighing down your shoulder. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to climb while also keeping contraband intact?”

Her gaze flickered to the bag, and for the briefest moment, her expression wavered. Her walls went up so fast it felt like watching shutters slam closed. “I told you not to do that anymore,” she said, strumming a soft, dissonant chord. “It’s not like I asked for this. I don’t want—” She stopped, exhaling hard like she was trying to push the words out. “I don’t want this relationship to feel transactionary.”

“Good thing it’s not,” you replied easily, setting the bag down between you and dusting your hands off like it had been some monumental task. “It’s not even for you. It’s for everyone. You just happen to be the only one sitting under this particular tree…the tree I always come to.”

Her lips twitched, but she stubbornly fought the smile threatening to break free. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Funny. That’s not what you said last time,” you quipped, brushing a hand across your brow for dramatic effect. “If I remember correctly, you called me a saint. Or was it an idiot?”

Magenta snorted, finally setting her guitar aside. “Definitely an idiot.”

“Yeah, that tracks.”

For a moment, the air between you held its usual electric charge—the one that always felt just shy of sparking, like a storm that hadn’t quite gathered itself. Then she hopped down from her perch, landing with a soft thud beside you. Up close, she was all sharp edges softened by the sunlight, her quick smile disarming even as her eyes stayed guarded.

“So, what’s the grand prize today?” she asked, nodding at the bag but keeping her hands conspicuously to herself.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you teased, unzipping the bag slowly, savoring her impatience. Her eyes darted toward the contents like she couldn’t help herself. “Honeycombs,” you said, pulling a jar out.

“This is your big smuggling job? A honeycomb?” she asked, though she didn’t put the peach down.

“That’s not what I brought for everyone. For everyone, I brought just a variety of foods, whatever was free at the kitchen and pantry. I got you the honeycombs because you were complaining about your throat that one time, besides, it’s sweet, kinda messy, and a pain in the ass to deal with, just like you.”

“Wow, thanks for the compliment.” she said dryly, plucking the jar from your hand. 

“You’re welcome,” you said, leaning against the tree and watching as she twisted the lid open with her bare hands. She dipped a finger into the jar and took a bite without hesitation, her expression carefully neutral as she licked the honey off her finger. “Good?”

“It’s fine,” she said, shrugging, though the way she reached for another taste betrayed her.

“That’s the highest praise I’ve ever gotten from you,” you said, grinning. “I think I might cry.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible,” she muttered around a mouthful.

“And yet, you keep inviting me back,” you said, leaning back against the trunk of the tree and crossing your arms like you’d won some kind of battle. “Why is that, Magenta?”

“I don’t,” she replied quickly, almost too quickly. Then, softer: “You just keep showing up.”

“Same thing.”

She groaned, throwing her head back, but there was a smile pulling at her mouth now, something genuine breaking through her carefully constructed defenses. “You’re exhausting.”

“And yet, here we are,” you said, plucking a peach for yourself and taking a deliberate bite. “Speaking of exhausting,” you added, gesturing to the guitar she’d left lying in the grass. “What’s the latest masterpiece?” You asked, settling back against the tree trunk, your voice light but with just enough weight to make her feel cornered. You knew she hated being put on the spot almost as much as she loved proving people wrong.

Magenta stiffened, her fingers twitching toward the guitar before stopping, like it wasn’t worth the effort. “It’s nothing,” she said after a beat, her voice quieter now, the bravado she always wore peeling away like old paint.

“Oh, come on.” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, the teasing edge in your tone softening. “I know it’s going to be good, like all the other songs. What’s it called?”

Her jaw tightened like she was chewing on the answer, debating whether or not to spit it out. Finally, with a sigh so dramatic it should’ve come with its own sound effects, she muttered, “Summer Rain.”

“Wow,” you said, letting out a low whistle as you bit into the honeycomb you’d been holding. “Summer Rain for the season of summer. Truly groundbreaking stuff, Magenta.”

She shot you a glare, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “Do you want me to play it, or do you want me to murder you?”

You grinned, sticky honey smearing the edge of your mouth. “I mean, ideally neither. But if I had to pick…” You dragged the words out just to get under her skin. “I’d say play it. We can revisit the murder option later.”

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, but the way she lazily slung the guitar strap over her neck betrayed her. She was going to play it, and you both knew it.

She adjusted the guitar on her lap, her fingers brushing over the strings like she was coaxing them into cooperating. The first few notes came softly, tentatively, like they weren’t sure they belonged. Then her voice slipped into the gaps, low and unpolished but so achingly real it made your chest tighten.

She didn’t look at you while she sang—not at first. Her gaze stayed locked on the space just above her hands, like the music might fall apart if she acknowledged you were there. But as the song stretched on, her eyes started flickering in your direction, fleeting and sharp, like she was daring you to say something, to ruin it, to tell her it wasn’t enough.

You didn’t. You couldn’t.

When she finished, the orchard seemed to hold its breath, the buzzing of insects and the rustle of leaves suddenly muted, like the entire world had paused to listen.

“That,” you said softly, the word feeling too small for the moment, “was incredible.”

Magenta scoffed, her fingers still resting on the strings. “It’s nothing,” she said, her tone casual, but the way her hands fidgeted betrayed her. “Just something I’ve been messing with.”

“It’s not nothing,” you insisted, leaning forward like you could physically close the distance she was trying to create. “It’s you. And it’s beautiful.”

She froze, her fingers tightening around the neck of the guitar. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, her expression unreadable, and then she turned her head sharply, her gaze flicking to the horizon like she couldn’t handle the weight of yours.

“Shut up,” she muttered, but the words came out softer than usual, and her lips were already curling into that faint, shy smile she always tried to hide.

“Make me,” you teased, leaning back against the tree with a grin. “Although, fair warning, you’ll have to use some pretty impressive insults to top that song.”

Her eyes snapped back to you, her smile gone but the light in her gaze unmistakable. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you keep me around,” you shot back, letting the words hang in the air like a challenge.

She exhaled, shaking her head as she set the guitar aside, her hands finally free to pluck the jar of honeycomb from your lap. “That’s because I haven’t figured out how to get rid of you yet.”

“Don’t bother,” you said, your voice dipping lower as she unscrewed the jar’s lid with a deliberate twist. “I’m like this orchard. Sticky, sweet, and entirely too much in the summer.”

Her laugh burst out before she could stop it, a real, unguarded sound that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. “God, you’re so full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” you said, watching as she dipped her fingers into the jar and pulled out a small chunk of honeycomb. “But I’m also right about the song.”

She popped the honeycomb into her mouth, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she chewed. “You’re exhausting,” she said, but her voice had softened, the edges worn down by whatever it was you managed to get past her walls.

“And yet, you wrote a whole song about me,” you said, crossing your arms like you’d just won the argument.

“Summer Rain is not about you,” she shot back, rolling her eyes so hard it looked like it might hurt.

“Oh, sure,” you said, raising a brow. “Tell me you weren’t thinking about me every time you sang about love.”

She groaned, leaning her head back against the tree, but this time she didn’t fight the smile. “Shut up, or I swear to god, the murder option is back on the table.”

“Make me,” you said again, your grin wide and shameless.

Autumn

Summer came and went, and soon, Autumn dawned, and all you could think of was, what new symphony had Magenta cooked up

"Your father has requested your presence. You will head to the main hall immediately," Beakley’s voice came through the door, as crisp as ever, a reminder of everything you couldn't escape. His uniform, perfectly pressed and stiff as always, made your stomach tighten, like you were already expected to be something you weren’t.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair and quickly straightening your shirt. You hoped your nerves weren’t showing as you hurried downstairs. Your father sat at the large mahogany table, his expression a perfect mask of authority. Across from him was Mr. Suputhipong, a businessman whose smile didn’t reach his eyes, and beside him—Natty.

"Where are your manners?" Your father’s voice snapped, making you wince. "Come, greet Mr. Suputhipong’s daughter."

You gave a stiff bow, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. "Good morning, Mr. Suputhipong."

He gave a sharp nod, his voice booming but empty. "Ah, lovely. Now, if you would, take my daughter for a walk in your garden." It wasn’t a request. It never was.

You nodded and motioned for Natty to follow you, and the two of you stepped outside, the heavy door closing behind you like a lock clicking into place.

The garden, with its manicured hedges and perfectly laid paths, felt like yet another gilded cage. You didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to walk with Natty like this—playacting under the watchful eyes of parents whose plans were already made for you both.

"So…" Natty’s voice cut through your thoughts, light and easy, as though it were nothing at all. "Guess we're stuck with each other for a bit."

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Looks like it."

She shrugged, her hands slipping into her pockets, her posture relaxed in a way that seemed effortless. "At least we’re outside," she added with a small grin. "Could be worse."

You chuckled at that. It was true—things could always be worse—but Natty’s casual ease made you feel like she didn’t take any of this seriously. You had to admire that, even if you didn’t feel the same way.

“So... this is what we're doing now, huh?” she said, her tone more dry than curious, but there was an amused look in her eyes. “Walking around pretending like we care about all this nonsense?”

You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, pretty much." It was like living in a play where you were always the understudy, never the lead. “I can’t say I’m a fan of these… arranged encounters.”

"Arranged, huh?" Natty’s voice was playful, but there was an edge of weariness to it. “Guess we both know why we’re out here. Both are just tokens in their little plan.”

Her bluntness surprised you, but it also made something inside you snap into place. "Yeah," you said, trying to keep your voice light. "Pretty much. Just pieces in a game."

Natty snorted softly, her lips curling into a dry smile. "Funny how they pretend it's all about alliances and family pride when it’s really about keeping us where they want us. Like we're anything but chess pieces."

You didn’t have to think hard to agree. It wasn’t something you’d ever quite put into words before, but Natty had said it exactly right. You both knew the truth, even if neither of you wanted to say it aloud.

"You’re right," you said, your voice quieter now, the weight of it all pressing down on you. "They want us to fall in line. To just... follow the script."

Natty leaned against the garden wall, her gaze drifting across the horizon as if searching for something beyond the perfectly neat rows of flowers and trees. "Yeah, well. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of the script," she said, her grin playful but with a hint of rebellion. "I’d rather be anywhere else right now."

You chuckled, though it felt more strained than you wanted to admit. "I’m getting there too."

The conversation fell into a comfortable silence. You both stood there for a moment, side by side, the shared understanding hanging between you, unspoken but undeniable. The arrangements, the alliances, the families using you as pawns—it all felt suffocating. But as much as Natty was easy to talk to, to be around, the truth was clear: she wasn’t her

There was someone else. Someone who wasn’t part of this world.

Magenta.

You thought of her, and your chest tightened. It wasn’t just a passing thought, either. She made you feel like you could breathe, like you didn’t have to conform to the rigid mold that had been set for you. When you were with her, you could be yourself. Unpretentious. Untethered to expectations.

She was real.

And you couldn’t get her out of your mind. The way her laugh seemed to make the flowers sing back in a harmonious melody, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she loved. The way she never tried to make herself something she wasn’t. You thought about her when you woke, when you closed your eyes at night.

You thought about her now.

But Natty, standing next to you, was just... easy. She wasn’t Magenta, and it wasn’t fair to either of you to pretend that she could be.

"So, what about you?" Natty’s voice pulled you back into the present, her eyes suddenly sharper, as if she had read the shift in your expression. "Anyone in your life?"

You hesitated, the weight of her question lingering longer than you would’ve liked. Magenta’s face flashed in your mind, her smile, her energy, and your chest tightened all over again.

"Yeah," you said finally, keeping your tone neutral. "But it's... complicated." You didn’t need to say more. Natty didn’t press.

She looked at you for a moment, her gaze softening, as if understanding the layers behind your words. "Yeah, me too," she said with a small, knowing smile. "We all have someone, don’t we? It’s just… in this world, it’s never really about what we want. It’s about what fits. Like we’re jigsaw puzzles first and humans second."

You nodded, the unspoken truth between you both like a weight that refused to lift. "Exactly. It’s never been about us."

The silence that followed was comfortable in a way, but it was also heavy. You both knew what was coming, even if neither of you wanted it. The arrangements. The alliances. The marriages.

And the truth you couldn’t ignore: you were both stuck with futures that weren’t yours to choose.

"I guess we just have to play along for a little while longer," you said softly, breaking the silence.

Natty gave a small, resigned nod. "Yeah. For now."

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, a resigned look as you lean on the railing.

“I’m sorry too.” Natty responds in earnest, the both you stuck in this sick game

“You’re late,” Magenta said, her voice teasing but warm as her fingers strummed effortlessly across her guitar, the sound carrying lightly in the cool evening air. She didn’t look at you as she played, but you could hear the smile in her voice.

You chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I swear, you always know when I’m running late. Are you watching me from the window?”

She smirked, still not looking at you. “I’ve got my ways.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, sure,” you teased, walking closer to her, boots crunching on the wet grass. “And what’s your excuse? You were probably waiting here for ages already.”

Magenta finally looked up at you, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I don’t need an excuse. Time doesn’t pressure me the way it does you.” She grinned, letting the last note of her guitar linger in the air before she added, “Though, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad I made it before you started your solo concert,” you said, raising an eyebrow as you took a step back, mock bowing as if she were the star of the show. “Should I be impressed?”

Her lips curled into a playful smile. “Oh, absolutely. But if you’re so impressed, you better be ready to hear my new song.”

“New song?” you asked, leaning against the nearby tree, intrigued. “Well, I’m all ears. What’s it about this time?”

Magenta’s fingers moved with ease over the guitar, the chords shifting into a new pattern. “This one’s called All About You.” She said it matter-of-factly, but there was a hint of something behind her words, something she wasn’t quite sharing.

You raised an eyebrow. “All About You? Seriously? Sounds a bit... on the nose, don’t you think?”

She shot you a playful glare but didn’t respond, letting the song speak for itself. The melody was soft at first, a gentle flow that pulled you in, but it quickly became clear that the song was filled with emotion—warmth, longing, and something far more intimate than you were expecting.

By the time the chorus hit, the words were unmistakably romantic, and the way Magenta sang them made it feel like she was pouring every bit of herself into the song. You couldn’t help but grin, listening closely as the lyrics unfolded, each one wrapping around you like a thread tying you to something she couldn’t hide.

When the song finished, you couldn’t help but give her a knowing smile. “Wow, that’s definitely... all about someone.”

Magenta set the guitar down with a light laugh, but there was a faint blush on her cheeks. “What? You think I wrote it for you or something?” she asked, her tone defensive, though it only made the blush on her face more obvious.

You smirked, crossing your arms as you raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I didn’t say anything. But if I’m the first one that came to mind…I mean, it sounds like it’s about someone. You really think you can write a song that sappy and not have it be about... well, someone?”

She rolled her eyes, clearly flustered, but she wasn’t backing down. “It’s not about you. I didn’t even mention your name.”

You held up your hands in mock surrender, trying to suppress your grin. “I didn’t say it was. But it’s obvious, right? All those lyrics about being captivated, about waiting for someone—come on, Magenta. That’s practically an open declaration.”

She huffed, looking away, but her lips betrayed her with a tiny smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” you said, stepping a little closer, not wanting to push too much. “But that song is definitely about someone. I mean, I could see how someone might get the wrong idea with all that heartache in it.”

Magenta’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place—perhaps annoyance, perhaps embarrassment. “It’s not about anyone specific,” she muttered, but even as she said it, you could tell she didn’t quite believe it herself. “Just... inspiration.”

You chuckled, knowing full well that she was trying to brush it off, but it was clear from the way her fingers tapped nervously on the guitar that she was a little more rattled than she was letting on.

“Well, whatever it’s about, it’s a beautiful song,” you said, smiling genuinely this time. “But come on, it sounds like you’re secretly in love with someone. Or... at least have a crush.” You teased, nudging her shoulder lightly.

Her cheeks reddened again, and she shot you a glare. “I don’t have a crush on anyone, okay?” She said, voice slightly tight, though the amusement was still there in her eyes. “It’s just... a song. Not everything has to have a backstory.”

“Sure,” you said, holding her gaze, though you couldn’t help but push a little. “But it’s pretty obvious that you’ve got feelings for someone. It’s a lot of emotion packed into one song.”

Magenta shifted uncomfortably, clearly trying to laugh it off, but you could see it. That flicker of something. She liked someone. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want you to know about it.

You decided to drop the teasing for a moment, though the thought of her love life still hung there, unexplored. Instead, you let the moment sit in the air, both of you feeling the weight of it in silence. Magenta, with all her bravado, wasn’t as immune to vulnerability as she liked to act.

“Well,” you finally said, breaking the tension, “whether it’s about me or not, I still think it’s a great song. Really.”

She sighed, exhaling through her nose with a soft laugh. “You’re impossible,” she muttered again, but there was no malice in it this time. She was just... flustered.

And honestly, you found it endearing.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re definitely hiding something,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Magenta turned her head, pretending to ignore you as she picked her guitar back up. “Not everything needs to be about me, alright?”

You laughed, but there was something else there now, something more... serious, between the two of you. Magenta had a way of hiding her emotions behind that tough exterior, but you weren’t fooled. You weren’t sure what it was—maybe it was the song, maybe it was just being here together—but it felt like something had shifted.

Then, without warning, you decided to bring up something else entirely, something that had been weighing on your mind since you’d gotten here.

“So, there’s this girl,” you started, and even though you hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, it felt important to say. “Natty. My father wants me to... well, to marry her. It’s all part of some arrangement with Mr. Suputhipong.”

Magenta’s fingers stilled on the guitar strings, the air around you suddenly feeling heavier. She looked at you, disbelief flickering across her face before it quickly morphed into something more guarded. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, her gaze piercing through you like she was trying to make sense of your words.

“Marry? As in, marry, marry?” she finally asked, her voice flat, though there was a quiet tension in her tone that you couldn’t ignore.

You sighed, leaning back against the tree as the weight of the situation settled back on you. “Yeah, that’s what I said. I mean, it’s not definite yet, but with how my father operates... it’s probably gonna happen. My siblings are already being set up with other kids from Mr. Suputhipong’s family too. It’s all this whole arranged marriage thing. Mass marriage bullshit, really.”

Magenta’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might say something sharp or dismissive. Instead, she just let out a breath, looking at the ground as if she were weighing her words carefully. There was a flicker of something in her eyes, though—a mix of frustration, confusion, maybe even jealousy. It was there, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath. “So just like that, you’re supposed to be... what, married off to some stranger? All because your father says so?”

“Pretty much,” you said, trying to keep the tone light, but inside, it was anything but. “I don’t know. I don’t want it, but... it’s just the way things are going right now. It’s all about business and alliances and all that. My feelings don’t even come into play.”

Magenta shook her head, her expression a mix of disbelief and something deeper, something that looked almost... hurt? “And what about you? What about what you want?”

You hesitated, not really knowing how to answer that. How could you explain that you felt trapped, like your life was being decided for you? You wanted to fight it, but at the same time, what could you do against your family’s expectations?

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, trying to brush it off. “It’s just something I have to deal with. You know, family stuff.”

But Magenta was still staring at you, her eyes searching yours, as if she were trying to find some clue in the way you were talking, some hint of how you really felt. She bit her lip, frustration clearly simmering under the surface. And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, that defensiveness slipped away, replaced with something that almost looked like vulnerability.

“You’re... not serious about this, right?” she asked, voice quieter now, almost uncertain. “I mean, you don’t actually want to marry her, do you?”

You felt your stomach churn at the question. There was something in Magenta’s voice—something fragile—that made you pause. For a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you standing in the clearing, everything else fading away.

“No,” you said quickly, trying to reassure her. “I don’t want to marry Natty. I don’t want any of this, Magenta. It’s just... expected. You know how it is with my family. But I’d never just go along with it. I don’t want a life like that.”

Magenta’s eyes softened, but there was still a shadow of uncertainty there. She crossed her arms, her gaze flickering away from you as if she were trying to collect herself. “So... you’re saying, if you could choose—” She hesitated, as if the question was harder than it should’ve been to ask. “You wouldn’t marry her? Not if you had the choice?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Of course not. I don’t even know her, Magenta. I don’t want to marry someone just because my father says it’s a good idea. I’ve got... other things I want. And if it were up to me, I wouldn’t go through with any of it.”

Magenta took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if trying to process everything. Then, after a long pause, she looked at you again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Then what do you want?”

‘You.’ You opened your mouth to speak, but for a moment, the words didn’t come. There was something in the air between you, something unspoken that made the moment feel bigger than it was. You didn’t know what you wanted, not entirely—but in this moment, with Magenta standing so close, you had a pretty good idea.

“I want...” you started, then paused, considering how to put it into words. “I want to be in control of my own life, Magenta. I want to make my own choices, not just follow what other people think is best for me. And right now, that means I don’t want to marry Natty. I don’t want to marry anyone unless I really choose to.”

Magenta’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Instead, she just nodded, her arms still crossed as she looked down at the ground. Her expression was harder to read now, a mix of relief and something else—something more subtle that you couldn’t place.

“Well,” she said quietly, “I’m glad to hear that. I just... I don’t like the idea of you being stuck with someone you don’t care about.” She shifted, avoiding your gaze for a moment. “And I definitely don’t like the idea of you marrying some stranger.”

You took a small step closer, your voice soft. “I promise that I’ll do what I can.”

Magenta finally met your gaze, the tension in her expression easing just a little. “Good,” she said, a small but genuine smile tugging at her lips. “I mean... if anyone’s going to marry you, it better be someone who actually matters, right? Someone good with the guitar at least.”

You couldn’t help but grin at the way she said it, the mix of playfulness and something deeper that made your heart flutter just a little.

“Right,” you said, your voice light, but underneath it, you both knew there was more to it than just words.

Winter

The winter wind cut sharp, carrying whispers from the upper levels down to where the air always seemed a little heavier, a little colder. Magenta had heard the news—everyone had. Mr. Suputhipong, the head of S2, had announced a new round of transport capsules bound for Mars, seats reserved for his family and their extended network.

Magenta hadn’t cared at first. Space travel was a rich person’s game, nothing to do with her. But then someone had mentioned the list, rattling off names like they were celebrities. One name had stopped her cold.

Natty.

Magenta’s fingers froze over the guitar strings, the name ringing in her ears. You’d mentioned her not too long ago, but it made sense now, all the talk about marriage alliances, the quiet weight in your voice when you’d brought it up. This wasn’t just a rumor. It was real. You were leaving.

You were going to Mars.

You were leaving her.

Magenta let out a low grunt as she slumped back against the gnarled tree. The bark pressed into her spine, grounding her even as her thoughts spun out of control. Her fingers moved again, plucking lazy, dissonant notes from her guitar, but her mind stayed stuck, clouded, frantic.

She couldn’t let you go. That much was clear. But how could she stop you? How could she even begin to ask you to stay? Her mind raced, sifting through excuses, schemes, anything to keep you here, on this Earth, in this moment with her.

But for all her sharp wit, for all the teasing comebacks she always had ready, Magenta couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

She shouldn’t ask. It was selfish. Even by the standards of the upper levels, Mars was the closest thing to heaven. To deny it was stupid, and as much as she’d tease you and prod you for the slight bursts of stupidity that she often found more endearing than anything, you had to jump at any chance to go to Mars. Even if it meant leaving important things here back on Earth, it only made sense to leave. What would you most mind leaving on earth? Magenta wondered if she made the list.

You hadn’t mentioned it to her, this move to Mars, not once. All winter, she’d been waiting for some small hint, some casual drop of your plans. But it never came. A tiny, bitter part of her wondered if you’d ever planned to tell her. Maybe you were just going to disappear, leaving her sitting here under the wish tree, strumming her guitar and waiting for someone who was never coming back.

She glanced down at the scratched notebook in her lap. Her new song, Wish Tree, stared back at her, the ink still fresh, the lyrics mocking her now. It had come to her on the same wind that had carried the news, and she’d written it in a rare moment of hopefulness, her fingers moving faster than her doubts.

Her songs had always leaned melancholy, romantic with an edge of longing, but this one was different. Wish Tree was a hopeful ode, a soft prayer for staying together, for finding a way through the chaos. And now, just as it had started to sprout, the news had come, ready to uproot everything.

Magenta closed the notebook and leaned her head back against the tree, exhaling a shaky breath. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She’d written about wishes, but she hadn’t made one. Not yet.

She wondered if she’d waited too long.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the familiar crunch of your boots on the soft mud.

“I’m early! Right?” You asked with an almost joking tone.

Magenta smirked, a quick, automatic reflex, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Depends what you mean by ‘early,’” she said, her fingers idly strumming a chord. “You missed the winter solstice, but I guess you’re on time for… Tuesday.”

You grinned, hands shoved deep into your jacket pockets, the wind making a mess of your hair. “Guess I’ll take that as a win.”

Magenta’s gaze drifted back to the guitar strings. She didn’t know why her hands were still moving, picking out a quiet, aimless melody, but it felt safer to look at the guitar than at you. “I wrote something,” she said, almost too casually, like she wasn’t sure the words should leave her mouth.

You tilted your head, curiosity lighting up your face. “Yeah?”

She nodded, brushing her thumb over the strings, the sound soft and tentative. “It’s not finished,” she added quickly. “Probably needs, like… a bridge. Or a chorus that doesn’t sound like a bad diary entry. But I—” She hesitated, her usual teasing confidence faltering just enough to make you take a step closer. “I could play it for you. If you want.”

Your smile softened. “Of course I want to hear it.”

As Magenta began to strum, the light breeze carrying her harmonies, your mind began to whir. The song was hopeful, uncharacteristically hopeful for Magenta’s music. Did she really not know? Not heard about the new capsules? You had been pondering for weeks on how to properly tell her, but now, sat in front of her, mesmerised by her symphonies as you gazed into her eyes, you wondered if it would be better to give it all up. Attempt to run from your family, gargantuan task as it is, risky too, but if there was anyone you’d do it for…

“Did you like it?” Magenta’s voice pulled you out of your reverie. 

“Of course I liked it, Magenta. It was exquisite, just like you.” You almost whispered the last words, catching Magenta’s gaze.

You shook your head, stepping closer until you were standing just a few feet away. “It’s perfect,” you said, your voice quiet, almost reverent.

Magenta’s cheeks flushed, and she looked away, brushing her hair back from her face like she could shrug off the compliment. “You always say that. You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, grinning slightly. “But I mean it.”

The silence stretched, the winter wind tugging at the edges of it, neither of you quite ready to fill it.

And then, so softly it was almost lost to the breeze, she asked, “When were you going to tell me?”

Her voice was quiet, almost steady, but she wouldn’t look at you.

“Tell you about what?” Magenta was right, you really were stupid.

“The Capsules. News travels down here too, you know.” Magenta replied, scoffing, her mood clearly having taken a turn for the worse.

“I…I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I was-” You tried to explain, but Magenta quickly turned toward you, glaring at you.

“You were what? Going to Mars? Leaving without a word or even a goodbye?” Magenta challenged as she stepped closer to you, almost cornering you into the cherry tree.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to go.”

Magenta didn’t move at first. Her eyes were locked on yours, disbelief rippling through her like a wave about to crash. Then she laughed, sharp and humorless, the sound cutting through the cold air like broken glass.

“You’re not sure if you’re going to go,” she said, her voice dripping with incredulity. “Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?”

“Magenta—”

“No, don’t ‘Magenta’ me,” she snapped, stepping closer, her words coming fast and fiery now. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying? You’re telling me you’d give up Mars—Heaven, for God’s sake—for me?”

“Yes!” you said, the word bursting out of you like it had been trapped inside too long. “Yes, Magenta, for you. I—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice rising. “You don’t get to say that! You don’t get to stand here, under this stupid tree, and act like I’m worth that. I’m not.”

“Stop,” you said, trying to close the gap between you, but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“No, you stop,” she said, her tone sharp and cutting. “Do you even hear yourself? Mars isn’t a vacation. It’s a whole new life. A better life. And you’re telling me you’d throw that away for what? For me? For some girl who spends her days sitting under a tree and writing songs no one even hears?”

“I hear them,” you said quietly.

Her mouth opened, then closed, her breath hitching for just a moment before she threw up her hands. “Well, great. One audience member. Guess that makes me worth uprooting your entire future.”

“Magenta,” you said again, your voice softer now, pleading. “I don’t care about Mars. I care about you. You’re worth it. Can’t you see that?”

Her eyes burned as she stared at you, her jaw tightening. “No. No, I can’t, because it’s not true.”

“It is—”

“Stop!” she yelled, and the force of it made you freeze. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her voice trembling now, even as she tried to keep it steady. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re just—you’re just trying to make this easier for me, and it’s not. It’s not easier.”

“I’m not—”

“You are!” she cut you off, her voice cracking at the edges. She sucked in a shaky breath, her anger slipping for just a moment, just long enough for you to catch a glimpse of the hurt underneath. “You think this is what I want? You staying here, wasting your chance, looking at me like I’m worth more than heaven?”

“You are,” you said firmly.

She laughed again, bitter and cold, and it broke something in you to hear it. “God, you’re so stupid,” she muttered, shaking her head. Her voice dropped, quieter now but no less sharp. “You’re going to regret this. Maybe not right away, but someday. You’ll look at me, and you’ll see all the things I can’t be, all the things Mars could’ve given you, and you’ll hate me for it. And I can’t—I won’t let that happen.”

“Magenta—”

“Just go,” she said, cutting you off one last time, her voice tight, her eyes refusing to meet yours. “Go to Mars. Forget about me. It’s better that way.”

You stared at her, your chest tightening, words piling up in your throat that you couldn’t force out. She stood there, arms crossed over her chest like she was holding herself together, her jaw clenched so hard it looked like it hurt. 

You turned and walked away, your footsteps crunching against the frozen ground, the distance between you growing with each step.

You didn’t see her crumble the second you were out of sight. Didn’t see her drop to her knees under the gnarled branches of the tree, her hands clutching the cold earth like it could anchor her to something, anything.

She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking, her breath coming in broken gasps. She did the right thing. It had to be the right thing. Or else, that would mean…mean that she ruined the only thing she ever really loved.

She pulled herself up from the ground, dragging herself onto the tree that had been your meetup point for so long. Your cherry tree, your Wish Tree. 

Spring

(Imagine the pre chorus but slowed down and sang through sobs)

It had been a year—a whole, impossibly short, impossibly long year—since you appeared out of nowhere, stumbling into her life like some cosmic accident. A stranger, in a place where strangers didn’t just happen. A year since she’d looked up from her guitar, startled by the sound of boots squelching through the muddy ground, and seen you standing there, impossibly wrong and yet somehow exactly right. Like you’d been meant to find the cracks she hadn’t even realized were there.

She’d told herself she wasn’t counting. Not really. But she knew. Knew it had been exactly one year since you wandered into her orbit and tilted everything, just enough to let the light in.

Now, lying beneath the gnarled branches of the cherry tree that had become yours—not hers, not yours, but yours, together—Magenta couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you. About the capsules.

The capsules.

Her eyes squeezed shut, trying to keep the image out. It didn’t work. Her fingers dug into the damp grass beneath her as though holding on tight could somehow stop the inevitable. She didn’t want to see it—the sleek, gleaming capsules with their yawning doors, ready to whisk you away. To lift you up, out, beyond. Somewhere she couldn’t follow. Somewhere she wasn’t sure she could even imagine.

She should be happy for you. That was what she told herself, again and again, the words looping endlessly through her head like a melody she couldn’t escape. This was what you’d been waiting for. The chance to leave, to start over, to escape the heaviness of this place. To find something better.

It was what she deserved, wasn’t it? She’d told you to go. Pushed you to go, her voice steady even when it felt like the weight of it might break her in half. She’d told you she couldn’t be the reason you stayed, couldn’t let you throw away a shot at something brighter, something easier, just because she wasn’t brave enough to let you go.

But lying there, staring up at the branches shifting against the pale winter sky, Magenta felt the truth settle deep in her chest, heavy and sharp-edged. She wasn’t noble. She wasn’t selfless. All she wanted, in the quietest, most desperate part of her heart, was for you to stay.

And then it came. That low, growing hum, the sound that swallowed everything else. The capsules, rising in the distance, their engines roaring as they tore away from the earth and into the sky. Magenta’s breath hitched as she watched them climb, higher and higher, until they were nothing but a distant speck. Until they were gone.

Her hands found the guitar beside her, her fingers brushing against the strings like muscle memory. It felt wrong to play it now, cruel, even. The song she’d been playing the day you first appeared. What had once been the beginning of everything now felt like a cruel epilogue to what she’d lost.

Still, the melody spilled out of her, her voice soft and trembling: We are revolving because we can’t meet

We are like parallel lines

If I could run through time and become an adult

I will hold your hand in this cruel world

We aren’t closing in, that one tiny bit

We are like parallel lines.

When the last note faded, Magenta folded forward, her body curling into itself as the tears came, hot and unrelenting. She pressed her forehead against the guitar, her shoulders shaking, her breath coming in broken gasps.

And then, softly, the words she’d never expected to hear again, carried on the breeze like an impossible dream:

“Would it be too much to ask for an encore?”

Her head jerked up, her breath catching. And there you were, standing beneath the cherry tree, the same tree where it had all begun. Your face was sheepish, almost apologetic, as you took a slow step toward her, then another.

Magenta blinked, her tears blurring the edges of you, but there was no mistaking it. You were here.

Before she could stop herself, she was on her feet, her fists against your chest, her sobs spilling over as the words tore out of her.

“Why didn’t you go?” she shouted, her voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “You could’ve had it all! You could’ve gone to the closest thing to heaven, and you stayed—for what? For me?”

Your hands found her shoulders, steady and warm, and when she didn’t pull away, you pulled her closer, wrapping her into the kind of hug that felt like it could hold her together, even as she fell apart.

You pressed a kiss to her forehead, soft and lingering, and when you spoke, your voice was quiet, like a secret meant only for her.

“Oh, my love,” you murmured. “What’s heaven got that beats a picnic in spring, just you and me?”

[partycatty]

i’m cranking these out like it’s a full time job

can we get some fluff w johnny where we steal his shirt and he just finds it’s the cutest thing how we practically drown in it

love youuu 💙💙

hehe i wuv him sm

johnny cage > rain

notes: i may not be a skinny queen but swimming in one of his shirts would actually cure me of all ailments forever,.,.., WHY ISNT HE REAL!!!!!!!!! @spacepl4ant

[ masterlist ]

• you and johnny had grown attached since meeting at wu shi academy. sure, you knew about his existence because he's a celebrity, but you had gotten to know johnny as a person as well as his screen persona... not that there was much of a difference.

• regardless, tuesdays were "train til you drop" days, oftentimes fighting or practicing routines for literal hours until you couldn't feel your limbs. everyone dreaded it but knew deep down it was necessary. this particular tuesday just so happened to be raining like crazy.

• you and the boys sparred and swung attacks at each other until the sun set, everyone drenched in sweat and rainwater. you all sat underneath a dense tree. kung lao shook the water from his hair, raiden was wringing out his shirt, kenshi didn't seem to mind too much and johnny was... well, using the rainwater as some kind of strange gel as he slicked his hair back.

• "talk about training your ass off," he groans, stretching his arms. "i can't feel a single part of me." you jab his side, making him whine and swat at you.

• "you complain too much," you wring your hair out onto the grass. "that being said, i'm cold and hungry and tired and i wanna go back to the dorms so i can change."

• "i like your thinking," johnny waves off the group and the two of you skip down the gravel path to the students' sleeping quarters, where your separated but loosely divided rooms held what little items you were allowed to bring with you. it was a common practice to walk around campus together, sometimes even arm in arm as you playfully waltzed down the paths. the other boys gave you a lot of trouble for it, whining about the married couple you pretend to be. neither of you stood up to defend yourselves. if anything, johnny found it a nice idea.

• in truth, you drove him wild. he just split from his ex-wife, someone that wanted to place roots down and slow down in life. but you, you were spontaneous, fun loving, and an absolute firecracker. you set his heart going, and he couldn't help but harbor a little crush on you. he couldn't tell you that, not now anyway, with the tournament coming up he knew better than to put an extra weight on you.

• "earth to superstar—" you groan, waving your hand in his face and shaking him of his thoughts. he hadn't even noticed the two of you were already at your sleeping place, and how you're now half dressed in your undershirt and shorts. "just checked my stuff. i don't have anything clean or decent. guess i'll just be soggy for dinner."

• johnny can't seem to focus when you're in a damp tank top. "bummer."

• you frown. "this is when you offer one of yours."

• his eyes are distant. "my what?"

• "jesus, cage, what's gotten into you?" you playfully punch at his chest, which does little to affect his stance, and slide the door open to his own bed arrangement. bending over and shuffling through his obnoxiously nice luggage bags, you find one of his dress shirts. it's a fiery red with small flame patterns.

• "i didn't say you could go through my stuff," he warns you in a teasing tone, head hovering over your shoulder. "you might find something you won't like in there."

• "please," you puff as you flick the shirt of its wrinkles. "i've seen a few rose toys in my day." he chuckled, turning away for a moment.

• he gives you the decency to change by staring into the corner, shamefully dreaming of what you may look like without anything on. he shakes the thought violently as you let out a sigh of contention with the shirt.

• "i get that you're a big guy, but lord," you mutter, tugging and shifting the shirt on your body. "you're bigger than i thought."

• "that's what sh—" johnny turns around with a smirk that quickly drops to the floor. you were wiggling about trying to make the shirt look like your own, but johnny was just so pleased with how it sat on you as it was. his shoulders were broader, leaving the shirt to swim around your own and expose a good deal of your collarbone. his waist was small, giving you some grace by hugging your hips almost as if it was your own top. in that split moment, johnny ponders if the "you're so hot i got a nosebleed" trope was real, wiping the bottom of his nose.

• "suits you," he pulls himself together abruptly with his award-winning grin, patting your shoulder and careful to avoid making contact with your skin, as badly as he wanted to feel your warmth. "after all this, come by my place and i'll get your own wardrobe after my style, how's that?"

• you scoff with your hands on your hips, shifting your weight to one leg. johnny fights the physical stutter at your chest creeping out of the top. "mister playboy here giving out charities to us poor folk. you don't have to do that, really."

• his voice is deadly serious. "i want to."

• "you're an odd one," you point a finger, sitting onto his bed with crossed legs. you fall silent observing his thousand yard stare, how glassy his gaze seems to be when it falls on you. "why do you look at me like that?"

• "like what?" his mouth is dry, eyes fixated on yours.

• "like you wanna kiss me all the damn time," your answer is teasing, not entirely serious but you don't miss the twitch in his lip at your statement.

• "and if i do?" he's testing the waters, something about you in his clothes is making him more bold than he swore to be.

• his answer makes your heart flutter, not expecting a direct comment like that. it changed the air of the room, and you suddenly feel a little more suffocated and insecure under his analytical stare. "why don't you?"

• "because i'm worried i'll want more. you look great in my clothes, by the way."

[youryurigoddess]

Maggie’s pendants and good omens

Yes, you’ve read it right. This post is going to deal with some literal good omens, not just title drop! But first things first, let’s take a closer look at the topic of this analysis.

A toucan

The top necklace is a lovely design involving a crowned toucan — believed to be a messenger of gods able to travel between the spiritual and the physical world, often associated with rain and rainbow (a Christian symbol of divine love, grace, and mercy, a reminder of the covenant between God and humanity to spare the latter from future trials like the Flood) — encircled by a gold band (a symbol of infinity, eternal love and promise) spun by a small butterfly (a symbol of transformation, hope, and rebirth). All three symbols combined seem to deliver a divine message of hope for rebirth, possibly resurrection, and the eternal life. Very fitting in the context of the Second Coming.

The fact that toucans were revered by the native South Americans as rainbringers strengthens the symbolic meaning of another type of bird we can spot on Maggie’s clothes in the very first episode, as her character introduction — a swallow. Swallows flying low are also believed to be harbingers of rain and bad weather. If you see one close to Earth or a building, it means that there’s a storm — or a certain biblical tempest — on the horizon.

In Ancient Greece and Rome swallows were representing Aphrodite, goddess of love. In Christianity they were considered to be of God and symbolized hope, awakening, and revival of life as messengers of spring and protectors from winter colds. Also helped Jesus on the Cross — according to a Christian legend, a group of swallows was supposed to take out the thorns from the Crown of Thorns and alleviate His Passion on the Cross. Humans banding together in the name of good have been a big theme in the series ever since The Them made an appearance, and from what we already know about the unpublished Good Omens sequel, we can assume that Jesus is going to take the spotlight in the upcoming season.

Maggie definitely attracts sudden inexplicable weather changes, like a thunderstorm with weirdly localized lightning strikes or a sudden downpour. And we’re still waiting for some vavooming (and the following happy ending) to happen in S3.

A heart with an eye

Now, the more nuanced clue hidden in the bottom necklace. I know that some of us were trying to tackle the concept of Maggie’s eye in a heart pendant suggesting her Masonic connotations, but this symbol (or the Eye of Providence in general) isn’t strictly Masonic, it isn’t even limited only to Judeo-Christian art. And while it is used a lot in Christian iconography, we should focus on a very specific example of it already referenced in the show.

Buckle up, we’re making a parachute dive into S1.

It seems like our old friend, Agnes Nutter, still has our backs.

Prophecy 4020:

Let the wheel of fate turne, let harts enjoin, there are othere fyres than mine; when the whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to another.

If you look closely at the bottom right corner of this frame, you will see that as an illustration for the above prophecy the production team chose a 1611 engraving titled The Minde should have a fixed Eye On Objects, that are plac’d on High first found in Gabriel Rollenhagen’s Nucleus emblematum selectissimorum.

In 1635 it was published in A Collection of Emblemes, Ancient and Moderne Quickened With Metrical Illustrations, both Morall and Divine, Etc by George Wither with the accompanying hymn:

A Heart, which bore the figure of an Eye

Wide open to the Sunne; by some, was us'd,

When in an Emblem, they would signifie

A Minde, which on Celestiall Matters mus'd:

Implying, by the same, that there is nought

Which in this lower Orbe, our Eyes can see,

So fit an Object for a manly thought,

As those things, which in Heav'n above us be.

God, gave Mankinde (above all other Creatures)

A lovely Forme, and upward-looking Eye,

(Among the rest of his peculiar Features)

That he might lift his Countenance on high:

And (having view'd the Beauty, which appeares

Within the outward Sights circumference)

That he might elevate above the Sphæres,

The piercing Eye, of his Intelligence.

Then, higher, and still higher strive to raise

His Contemplations Eyes, till they ascend

To gaine a glimpse of those eternall Rayes,

To which all undepraved Spirits tend.

For, 'tis the proper nature of the Minde

(Till fleshly Thoughts corrupt it) to despise

Those Lusts whereto the Body stands inclin'd;

And labour alwayes, upward to arise.

Some, therefore, thought those Goblins which appeare

To haunt old Graves and Tombes, are Soules of such,

Who to these loathsome places doomed were,

Because, they doted on the Flesh too much.

But, sure we are, well-minded Men shall goe

To live above, when others bide below.

And hey, guess what 4020, i.e., the number of the prophecy, symbolizes in Strong’s Concordance? Periergazomai, a Greek word meaning “to waste one's labor about something” — to meddle, going beyond proper boundaries (where a person doesn't belong); to fixate on what others are doing, instead of doing what the person himself is supposed to do.

It appears only once in the Bible:

2 Thessalonians 3:11: We hear that some among you are idle and disruptive. They are not busy; they are busybodies. Such people we command and urge in the Lord Jesus Christ to settle down and earn the food they eat. And as for you, brothers and sisters, never tire of doing what is good.

To make things slightly more interesting, in the Hebrew version of Strong’s Concordance 4020 has another meaning — migbaloth, meaning “twisted things, i.e. cords”. Which doesn’t make much sense until we read the actual passage:

Exodus 28:24 and two chains of pure gold, twisted like cords; and you shall attach the corded chains to the settings.

And compare it to the most recent post on the topic published directly by Word of God:

What if all these clues didn’t apply to Maggie and Nina, but Aziraphale and Crowley instead? What if Maggie served as a messenger — consciously or not — just like the toucan, delivering the prophecy to those who need it most?

“When the tempest comes and darkness and great storms, and the dead will leave their graves and walk the Earth once more and there will be great lamentations for the end is near, don’t lose hope, hold hands and look up.”

Basically what Aziraphale and Crowley already did when they performed the 25 Lazarii miracle, only with no interference from Gabriel this time around.

And, if both Strong’s Concordance and Maggie’s personal addition to her second pendant are to be believed, with a wedding band somehow involved in the process.

[yhamh]

Alright, here's what gets me about Maria Recinos dying:

911 has always been my favorite SVU episode ever since it aired. In so many ways I feel like it's SVU's thesis statement and a showcase of what makes it a show that can survive 26 years on the air with no end in sight.

Because I'm gonna be honest, the whole Bensler thing, Tuckson, Bensidy, I can live without that. Tucker can die and Bensidy can break up, and my life won't be ruined if EO decide they're better off as friends. It's fine. It's just shipping and it's fun but that was never what made SVU such a special show.

When I sat down and watched 911 as a young girl I was floored by the idea that somewhere out there was someone who would not give up looking for you. Somewhere out there was a group of dedicated detectives who would put all their resources into digging you out of your literal grave.

There is something so earth shatteringly beautiful about the character of Olivia Benson that makes so many people, but women especially, love her and I truly believe it's because Olivia will believe you.

Our whole lives we've been told that we're exaggerating, that we're lying, that we only want attention, that it really wasn't as bad as we're saying it was, that it happens to everyone so you just need to get over it. Every day, all the time, from all corners of the earth this is what we hear.

But you take a character like Liv and she will believe you and she will fight for you and she will be filled with rage over the way the world has treated you.

That was personified for me in 911 and through Maria's rescue. And it meant so so much to me that we got to see her twenty years later, not just surviving but thriving, exactly the way Liv and the show promised us she would.

And now . . . now that's gone. Now the show has taken that message away from me and I feel betrayed. The point isn't that the show is realistic, because it isn't. It never has been. The point is that SVU told me that if I ever needed help, if I was ever in literal hell, somewhere at the other end of the phoneline Olivia would answer a desperate call and she'd never give up until I was saved.

Now I'm sick to my stomach because you take a message that's that wholly special and desperately needed in our culture and now it's just telling me that the message isn't that you'll do more than survive, you'll thrive. It never was.

Now the message is that you can get through hell, you can fight your way into a normal life and maybe even a life where you turn around and decide to help people the way you were once helped . . . and it won't matter. Eventually you're going to be revictimized, only the next time it happens Olivia won't be there to pull you out of your grave.

I hope I'm exaggerating. I hope that this is only my feeling right now and that next week I'll be resigned if not happy because I honestly feel a paradigm shift and I'm not sure I like it. And I'm really not sure if I'll get over it.

[lomappreciationblog]

History Tome: Myth of Creation (Part 2)

Part 1 discussed the first five entries, so I'll be beginning this one with the sixth! Last time we left the Moon Gods also resting after filling Fa'Diel with locales and Elemental Spirits.

So the next step in the story: the appearance of the Flammie.

In the first entry concerning the Flammie, it appears they materialized when a Moon God fell asleep, and eventually six Flammies corresponding to the original group of Moon Gods lived in Fa'Diel.

Unlike previous entries, Flammie itself doesn't have a role in the game, and the only appearances it has onscreen, if it can be called that, is as a stone statue.

I think the one in The Temple of Healing is a Flammie, though it only has two wings, not the usual four of the series.

The more obvious representation is in Kristie's basement (the lower right in this screenshot)

(also, I just noticed, in addition to the main characters of Trials of Mana in the lobby of this home, the basement has a statue of Amanda in the lower left corner!)

I don't think they ever planned to put Flammie in this game because there is no concept art in the art book for its appearance, and also...the History tome addresses that disappearance.

Where there's a beginning, there's an ending - rising leads to a fall, and eventually creation turns into destruction. The seventh entry lays out the cycle that will plague Fa'Diel for eons to come, as the Moon Gods created conflict due to competing with each other.

The Moon Gods are stated to have created many beasts, but also "ever stronger Flammies" which is a bit off when the previous entry seems to have indicated Flammies appeared in connection to the Moon Gods, not because they were created. But perhaps the Moon Gods found ways to create new ones after the first one appeared? In any case, these new Flammies began to fight amongst themselves, too, and in the spirit of competition, the act of creation was twisted, from being an outlet of expression, to a tool of conflict.

The eight entry spells out that Fa'Diel being in an apocalyptic state has happened even long ago, with the land and its associated Elemental spirits dying.

A thing to note here is, prior to this entry all we've heard about is the happenings in Fa'Diel, but it appears the Mana universe is far more vast than that, and the constant fighting lead to the world itself being so wounded, that ways to "another world" were revealed. This plot point will come up several times in the History Tome, hammering in the horrors of war.

This "another world", this "great unknown" - affected the Moon Gods by instilling in them the sensations of fear, envy, desire, and the knowledge of their own foolishness. I haven't really read any Lovecraft stories, but I know it's a general theme there that there are dimensions beyond mortal understanding, filled with beings and knowledge that can drive one to madness. So uh...it's quite possible we may have eldritch creatures or locations in LoM too, and the effects were potent enough to take down the original gods of Fa'Diel.

To put it lightly, Fa'Diel is kind of a crapsack world if this tome is to be taken literally.

The ninth entry continues the chaos, which also began to affect the Mana Tree. Hmmm...the waves of chaos and the cracking of the Mana Tree kinda describe some events that happen in both Dawn and Children of Mana, what with the opening of the gate to Malvolia and the Mana Tree's stone cracking...

But back to Legend, despite all this world-ending cataclysm the Moon Gods finally put themselves together, and used the Flammies to carry out their plan, creating a great river of Mana as they soared from the earth to the sky and back again.

As an aside, ooooh how I adore how that whole event is worded, it's so beautiful. Can you imagine the sight of it, the Flammies with stones in their paws, carrying the prayers of repentant gods, as they soared to the sky?

The writer in me wishes I can be this good. It really is a shame this tome is pretty out of the way...

The tenth entry is about the restoration of the world from its first crisis - the Flammies' weaving a river of Mana healed the land, but they were unable to save the Moon Gods from their final fate, having lost themselves and become beasts.

You wouldn't think it, but the important bit here is the Flammies' lament, as it leads to the birth of something new - hold onto the bit about the "essence of thoughts forming where the perturbations settled."

The 11th entry is where the story of the Moon Gods and the Flammies end - the way it happened, with the Flammies ascent and the Moon Gods turning into stars, also mirrors how in some mythologies, gods return to, or withdraw to the heavens, leaving the Earth as the domain of mortals.

And now, with the first generation of divinity gone, Fa'Diel gained new concepts to replace them. The works of the Moon Gods aren't totally gone, as the Elementals remained, but now in a new world, and looking for guidance, they turned to the mother goddess.

Remember the thing about the the essence of thoughts in the 10th entry? Here is where it plays out - those thoughts became the new beings of the world, and the creation of Fa'Diel is now up to them.

Since they were born out of the Flammies' lament, these new forms of life are born knowing fear and sadness, unlike the Moon Gods, who only came to know such things after glimpsing the other world. It's a common theme of mythology to separate divinity and mortals through some sort of factor, and usually it's because divinity are immortal while...mortals aren't, but here, what separated the life of Fa'Diel from its predecessors is the presence of fear and sadness.

It's an interesting thing to consider - maybe it's just me, but I don't think the Mana Goddess is saying that fear and sadness are bad, necessarily. It can lead to harm, as the Goddess says in the last part, but fear and sadness are rooted in love, are they not? I could also loop back to the fact that these thoughts came from the Flammies weeping for their Moon Gods - after all the calamities, there was love left for what was essentially their parents. We come to know fear and sadness out of love for others.

The age of myth ends here, as new life forms populate Fa'Diel, among them humans and Faeries.

The Flammies, from up high, are content to watch over the land, and we close this chapter on the story of the first divinities.

After this first arc about the myth of creation, is what I consider an Interlude, as the Tome takes a break to talk about the various new life-forms that sprung up in this second age among them humans, Faeries, dragons and wyrms. I will add this 13th entry there again since it still is connected to that.

[lovely-peace]

Eclipsed hearts

Summary: Reader is avoiding remus for weeks now. But when the hogsmeade weekend comes in sight this task becomes impossible, because their friend group wants to go their together. But when all things come together it doesn't go as planned....

Warnings: self hatred, panic attack (tw!!!), bad to no communication, might get mad at everything lol, I am a very angsty writer sryy

I might went a little over board with this one, but whatever right?

Masterlist part 1 ~~~ part 6 part 7

Weeks passed. Weeks in which I avoided Remus as much as possible. In class I worked together with Luis. In the meantime I would call him a friend. It was nice to know someone who wasn't also friends with Remus.

But then the first hogsmeade weekend came in sight. And just like we talked about it, it was planned that we went there together. So I couldn't avoid Remus there. I was afraid of it. But at the same time I was excited.

What was wrong with me?

It was during the last Potions class that Luis suddenly approached me.

"Hey, would you like to come to Hogsmeade with me? It's totally okay if you don't want to!" he said it so fast that I needed some time to understand what he was saying. He asked me if I could go to Hogsmeade with him.

But I had promised Lily not to chicken out. He stood in front of me waiting for my answer and I felt like the worst person on earth. In the end, I just sat down next to him to hide from remus.

I was cruel. I mean what if he liked me?

I somehow managed an apologetic smile. "Hey, I'm sorry about that, but this weekend my friends and I were already planning on going on a group outing."

I could literally see his hope dwindling and him feeling embarrassed. "Oh."

He couldn't look me in the eye. I just felt worse. Why was this so hard?

"We can meet some other time though." why did I say that? I didn't want to give him hope, that was cruel. I didn't like him like that.

He looked at me with a crooked smile. "Yeah, we can do that. Sorry if this has all been a bit awkward."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll see you soon then. "I felt awful. How did it all look so easy in the movies? Even in books it's so simple. But in real life, it's all so difficult.

He walked slowly and waved at me before disappearing around the corner. It was only when I exhaled that I realized I had been holding my breath.

Suddenly I heard a crack behind me and turned around. I saw only sand-colored hair, which quickly disappeared behind the next corner.

~~~

"Are you ready to go?" Lily was all excited and had put on one of her most beautiful dresses, which looked incredibly good on her. We were going to meet up with the boys in Hogsmeade and to be honest, I was dreading it.

"Yes, yes I'm ready." I hadn't really dressed up. I had normal clothes on and even with my hair I hadn't done anything special. Lily seemed disappointed, but she didn't say anything.

"Are you guys finally coming?" Mary had been ready for a long time and was waiting for us.

"Yeah, we're already done." Lily literally pulled me after her. And We set off on our way. ~~

We approached the three broomsticks in which we would meet with the others. To say that I felt uncomfortable would have been an understatement. Why was I so nervous?

As we approached we saw a couple of Ravenclaw boys. I had the feeling that they were looking at us. I had the feeling that they were looking at me.

They whispered to each other as we got closer. One of them looked me sourly in the eye. I wanted to just keep walking, but I stopped. I could not help it.

"What's wrong?" Mary followed my gaze and became quiet. I hadn't told them what had happened with Luis. But that won't have anything to do with it, will it?

Suddenly one of the boys stepped forward and came toward us. He stopped in front of us and looked me straight in the eye.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" his voice was quiet but firm. I looked briefly at mary and lily who exchanged a quick glance. They just shrugged their shoulders.

"Sure," I said. He looked at me briefly and then raised an eyebrow.

"I think it would be better for you if we were… Alone."

That sounded like I was hiding something terrible from my friends. And maybe that was the case. We talked very little now.

"Can you leave us alone for a moment?" I asked the two. Even if it was more like a request.

They looked at each other again and it was as if they were talking to each other in a language I didn't understand. This frustrated me.

Lily looked at me worriedly." Are you sure?"

I just nodded and the two of them hesitantly went into the store. I turned to the boy, expecting the worst. And yet, I wasn't really prepared.

His eyes rained down before he spoke.

"Listen, I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, but I'm tired of it. You seem to constantly portray yourself as a victim here, even though you're just playing with the people around you. I mean sitting down next to Luis and giving him hope? You're only doing that to make Remus jealous. Everyone can see that something happened between you. "

I was speechless. I wanted to contradict him, but I was at a loss for words. But he wasn't finished anyway.

"And this whole cat and mouse game that you play with him is pathetic, honestly. I heard your friends talking about you. Everyone is worried about you. And you? You just go ahead and shamelessly take advantage of it. If I were your friend, I would have told you off long ago. "

I pushed down the tears that were slowly coming up. I couldn't cry, not here. I was tired of crying all the time. So this is how the whole situation looked to the outside world. I didn't want people to think about me like that. I couldn't stand that. I couldn't stand that.

"I'm n-not taking advantage of luis." When I said it like that, it sounded like a lie. It didn't feel right to say either.

Was I really as he described me? I didn't want to be like that. The person he was describing was a cold heartless person who took advantage of everyone around him. I wasn't like that, was I?

He scoffed.

"Do you really believe that? Or do you want to portray yourself as a victim again and run away? Honestly you're pathetic."

His friends were standing a little further away, but it sounded like the whole world was hearing his words. I wanted to run and hide, he was right. This was really pathetic. The world started to spin. I didn't want him to be right. But I couldn't listen to him any longer either.

"Look, here comes your lover boy and his friends! You want to hide behind them?" he mocked me. I couldn't move, I was frozen.

"I'm not going to hide behind them…" the words came out as if in slow motion and were much too quiet. I almost choked on them. My body did not listen to me. Everything inside me was screaming for alarm, but I was still frozen.

"Sunny?" I wanted to disappear. "Hey, asshole what are you doing to her?!" I was acting horrible. "We were just talking, chill." I wasn't really aware of the voices around me anymore. Inside my head I was alone and it was holding me captive right now. "What's going on with her? Why isn't she saying anything?" Eyes everywhere. Everyone seeing what I'm doing. "She suddenly froze, I don't know either…" I just want to be normal, what's wrong with me? "Sirius go check on lily and mary! Maybe you can help." Everything I do is seen and evaluated. Everyone sees my mistakes and feelings. I don't want to be so transparent. "Nothing to see here, get lost!" I don't want to be weak. "Hey is someone getting help?" I don't want to be vulnerable-

Hands wrapped themselves around my shaking ones. They were warm. My breath slowly became slower. I didn't even know I was breathing so fast. Calmness spread through me. Followed by cozy warmth.

"You are safe, all is well."

Slowly my surroundings became clear again. I was in front of the three broomsticks. I just wanted to hang out with my friends. But I had ruined everything.

When I realized who was holding my hands, guilt rose in me. I pulled my hands out of Remus' warm hands and immediately regretted it when I saw the look on his face. I regretted it when I saw the looks of the others on me.

"I'm fine." I said quickly, trying to forget the whole thing. If only it were that simple.

"Are you sure? You were shaking all over and didn't answer us for a whole 20 minutes!" lily's worried expression came into my field of vision. How many times had I seen that expression the last few weeks?

"Sorry, I just spaced out a bit." I turned to the boy I was talking to. "Sorry if I worried you. Wasn't your fault or anything like that."

He wasn't angry anymore.

He almost looked like he was scared. As if he was afraid for me. His eyes were no longer so cold. I suddenly saw similarities between him and luis. They had the same eyes.

Could it be?

We looked at each other quietly for a while, then he cleared his throat.

"I'll leave you to it, then..."

Mary scoffed at that. "Thanks. And just so you know, we won't leave you 'alone' with her again!!!" she literally screamed after him. If looks could kill, she'd be a serial killer.

I tried to fight it, but my eyes moved to remus' eyes as if by themselves. And suddenly I realized what kind of situation I was in. All my friends were gathered around me, looking at me worried.

Everyone is worried about you. And you? You just go ahead and shamelessly take advantage of it.

I felt like I was going to throw up.

"Sunny?"

If I were your friend, I would have told you off long ago.

"I just have to go to the bathroom."

And I ran past them into the three broomsticks. I quickly went into the bathroom and locked myself in.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Do you really believe that?

Breathe in, breathe out.

Or do you want to portray yourself as a victim again and run away?

Breathe in, breathe out.

Honestly you're pathetic.

Breathe in.

Look, here comes your lover boy and his friends! You want to hide behind them?

Exhale.

~~~

"There you are! We were getting worried." Mary spread her arms as I approached their table. I mustered a wry smile and sat down next to her. Across from remus.

"Should we take care of him?" James' voice sounded threatening. He was talking about the ravenclaw boy. I shook my head.

"No, we were really just talking."

His look told me he didn't believe me. I didn't say anything more, though, so he dropped the subject.

Lily smiled warmly at me. "Are you feeling better?"

I nodded and smiled at her too. I didn't want to make her worry anymore. I wanted her to smile more.

Everyone is worried about you. And you? You just go-

"What did he want to talk to you about anyway?" sirius asked the question floating in the air. Everyone went quiet and looked at me, waiting.

"It... It wasn't anything important-"

"It was about his brother, wasn't it? Luis. The one who asked you out yesterday." Remus' voice wasn't as warm as usual. It was almost... Harsh.

"What, Luis asked you out?" mary looked at me in shock. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I just didn't really get around to it..."

"I think she could hardly believe it herself." remus interrupted me the whole time. All of this was so not like him.

He was making me angry.

"And what exactly couldn't I believe? Please, tell me."

Now he hesitated. It was almost as if he realized what he was saying. But then his eyes hardened again.

"Well, that he's playing with your feelings. The fact that his brother showed up right after you hurt his brother's pride only proves it."

Who is playing with my feelings here?

"Oh, is it so hard to believe that someone might actually like me, Remus?"

His eyes widened. "No, I just meant-"

"I think we all know what you meant." This time, I didn't let him speak. I was behaving terribly, but he was just as awful.

"Besides, he just asked me if we want to do something together. It could easily be meant as just friends hanging out. And you don't even know him!" I was angry.

Remus scoffed at that. "Yeah, sure. That was definitely meant as just friends hanging out. Sometimes you're really naive." He whispered the last words, but I still heard them clearly.

"Oh, really?"

James looked panicked between us. "I think we should all calm down a bit..."

"Why do you even care so much? It's none of your business who asks me out on a date!"

I've never spoken to him like this before. I don't know what came over me, but in that moment, it was all just too much.

He fell silent at that.

Lily placed a hand on mine. "Maybe we should stop talking about it..."

"No, please, Remus, tell me. Why do you care so much? If I remember correctly, you were the one who rejected me! So don't pretend like you really care about who I'm with or not!!!"

He looked away.

"Whatever."

That was the final blow. I stood up and turned to the door.

"Well, you know what? That was a mistake. I shouldn't have agreed to do something together. This whole thing was just a big mistake."

I was already at the door when Lily stood up.

"No, wait, please! He surely didn't mean it that way, right, Remus?"

But Remus remained silent.

"Remus, say something?!" Lily's voice was frustrated.

"Lily, just stop."

I turned to the others one last time.

"I know exactly what he meant."

And then I ran away. Once again.

The sun and the moon meet again after a while. They long for each other and still don't come closer to the one other.

Taglist : @juleshadalittlelamb @fluffybunnyu @tendous-pretty-hair @helloitsmeeeeeee @valencia-rou @woohoney @mothermaryisdead

[rubykgrant]

I can't remember if I posted about it already, or if I just can't find it (because searching for something on here is impossible), but I'm thinking about my Avatar story idea from when I was a teenager (literally right after the original series ended, and way before we had Korra or the comics as a continuation), so here it is again-

-Zuko realizes his dad will never tell him where Ursa is, and just keeps using it as a bargaining chip, so decides to ignore Ozai and focus on helping put the Earth Kingdom/Water Tribes back together, and get the Fire Nation out of "war-mode"

-He also tries to figure out how to help his sister; Azula isn't being violent now that she's fully accepted defeat, but she is SUPREMELY depressed (and seems to expect him to "execute" her, which he very much has no interest in doing). Iroh and some others from the White Lotus find a group of Healers, some Waterbenders, who also understand emotional/mental pain, who agree to help her (she does improve eventually, but it is painful for her to even go home to the Fire Nation... finally realizing how badly her father messed her up was a big deal). Eventually, Ty Lee and Mai visit her, sort of trying to have a "new" friendship

-A couple years go by. Things have mostly settled down, but every once in a while there is a problem (a group in the Fire Nation who think Zuko shouldn't be Fire Lord call themselves "Azula's Army". they aren't very powerful, but are definitely annoying, and sow discontent with other people). After an adventure helping a young Fire Sage who is training, Aang and Zuko find some old scrolls about strange "distant islands"

-Sokka recognizes some of the scrolls are from Wan Shi Tong's library (stolen however long ago). The satchel they were in belonged to Zhao; these were other things he found when looking into information about the Moon and Ocean Spirits. One scroll with a map has the island closest to the Fire Nation circled, with notes in the corner about this being a "Secret the Fire Lords keep". Zuko researches a little more, and finally has the answer...

-This island was where a once "disgraced" Fire Lord was sent, and since then, other Fire Lords have used it as a place for banishment. While it is more common to just banish people from the Fire Nation itself, when a Fire Lord wants to entirely erase somebody without actually "killing" them, they are sent to that island. More secrets imply that a few soldiers who were part of Sozin's army secretly saved infants from the Air Temples during attacks. They weren't strong enough to outright oppose the Fire Lord, and there wasn't enough of them to fight the other soldiers, but they wanted to at least save the children. The babies were smuggled away to the island. This is also where Ozai sent Ursa

-The group decides to make a big trip to the island; after all, they have the possibility of not only finding Zuko's mother, but Aang might NOT be the last Airbender! Aang, Zuko, Katara, Sokka, Toph, Mai, Ty Lee, Suki, and Hakoda are all going out on a ship with a few crew members (it would be too far for Appa to fly over the sea, but he and Momo are still along for the ride). Zuko is leaving behind Iroh as temporary Fire Lord, and Suki asked some of her Kyoshi Warriors to help

-At one point as they travel, they find a small, much newer island, formed by a volcano that has started to grow plant life. They all stay for the night to camp and gather some fresh fruit/do some fishing. Katara has figured out a way to "pull apart" salt water so it can be drinkable. Toph just REALLY needs a good dose of LAND before sailing again. In a small tide pool, Zuko teaches Toph how to swim (suddenly remembering how his older cousin Lu Ten taught him way back on Ember Island, before Azula was even born. she finally gets her own Zuka field-trip!)

-They finally arrive at the island; there are a LOT of people here. Some who's ancestors were banished by a Fire Lord generations ago, some who were sailors that got stranded out here after bad storms. A few people who had been Fire Nation soldiers back then decided to stay, not wanting to be part of the war anymore. They all have their own communities... and so many of them are Airbenders! Aang is very excited, and shows off some of his own abilities. The people are amazed, especially because they have never been taught any actual "techniques". Their history and heritage has been lost to them. As everybody walks around, Zuko eagerly looks for a familiar face... when he hears somebody suddenly call his name. He and his mother finally meet again, crying and embracing each other (she sees his scar, and when she touches it and sees his eyes glance down sadly, she knows Ozai did it)

-Lots of catching up, both happy and sad. Some of the people banished here were Waterbenders that had been captured by the Fire Army, in the attempt to have them control whirlpools/tidal waves (searching for some long-lost treasure). The Waterbenders would pretend to be swept away, and escape, eventually finding this island. Now that the restrictions that "banished" them are gone, everybody on the island is welcome to return to the outside world. The ship isn't big enough for everybody, but Ursa and several of the Airbenders make the return trip (more boats will be sent later, both so people on the island can see the other Nations, and so the island can be visited; they won't be alone out here anymore)

-Ursa and Hakoda talk a lot together while sailing back (wishing they could have protected their children better), and Aang shares stories of the Air Nomads with the Airbenders, also teaching some of them how to make an Air Scooter. When they arrive, Iroh is happy to see Ursa again. Zuko takes her to go visit Azula, who at first doesn't believe her mother could return, or EVER love her... but Ursa reassures her daughter; she is real, and so is her love

-Zuko makes one final visit to Ozai; his father has gotten a little "impatient", expecting that Zuko wouldn't be able to resist coming back to ask about his mother for so long... Iroh also walks in, and Ozai tries to mock his brother. Azula walks in as well, finally confronting her father. This throws him, because she looks different (short hair, no make-up), and also because she doesn't care about his approval anymore. He tries to bargain with her, but she refuses his offers. Then, Ursa walks in. Her son and his friends found her, WITHOUT him. Now, she is back with both of her children. Ozai is struck silent. Finally, Aang walks in, telling Ozai that his ancestor failed, the other Airbenders were NOT wiped-out. They will all walk out of here, and have happy lives. He will stay. Nobody wants anything from him anymore. Too late, after they leave, Ozai starts shouting, trying to beg or threaten, but nobody listens (nobody cares)

-In the years that follow, the other islands are eventually located and explored, with more people found there (new people who are Fire/Water/Earth/Air Benders, but with different cultures than the Four Nations. Sokka is sort of the official diplomat for making new friends, and eventually, all the new places are able to travel and communicate with each other). Hakoda and Ursa grow closer, but take a while to act on any romantic feelings (they're worried their children might find it awkward, and Hakoda especially didn't want Katara and Sokka to think he doesn't care about their mother's memory... but the kids are all very happy about it! this makes them all family). Aang helps the Airbenders who want to move back to the Air Temples adjust and recover. People from other nations who have made homes near the Temples are welcome to stay as well, and also help repair the buildings. Hakoda and Ursa live part of the year on Ember Island, and part in the Southern Water Tribe village that was his home (which has also been rebuilt). Azula eventually feels content enough to move on, and she lives on Kyoshi Island with Ty Lee (Azula avoids bending, finally realizing she has PTSD, but she can still help train people with hand-to-hand fighting techniques). Toph makes a home for herself outside of the swamp, where she also begins teaching Metalbending (haha, yes, ironic~). Now that Zuko is very at home being Fire Lord, Iroh stays in Ba Sing Se full time for his tea shop, but returns for special occasions (like when Zuka and Mai get married). Katara surprises Aang with a gift one day; a necklace~

[tanoraqui]

Hi, Maedhros and Fingon from the superhero au make me feral, I love everything about them. if you feel like it I would love to see some more about Elros and Elrond from that au. Or alternatively, i was too shy to suggest anything the other week when you were doing the prompt list, but how about Elros and Elrond, the mafia au, library?

I’ll take “Elros and Elrond from the superhero au” for 500, Alex; thank you!

Elros’s Finwëan superpower is healing, because in THIS house we respect “the hands of the king are the hands of a healer” as an ancient truism of Arda and, accordingly, believe that Elros was the one with innate healing talent and Elrond only learned it later in life, likely in memory of Elros. Superhero au!Elros can heal others and himself by laying hands on them and willing it, though it does require energy from him and concentration. He gets much more efficient with both power and speed once he learns anatomy.

Elrond’s Finwëan power is the ability to radially radiate an aura of peace, in which harmful attacks are physically slowed and the will to violence, and all other negative emotions, are calmed. Ranged projectiles which enter the space also slow, though not necessarily enough to do no damage. He can push it farther out and/or more intensely the longer it goes, with limits. Elrond has to maintain his own sense of peace in order to do this, no anger, fear, desire to injure, etc. Elrond glows while he does this; the light marks the area and strength of effect.

Five generations down from Finwë, these powers are relatively weak compared to previous generations. However, their Maiaran blood means they both have a natural talent for Singing (ie, magic), which they can most easily use to augment their Light-based abilities.

These twins grew up in a post-apocalyptic hellscape timeline in which Morgoth conquered Earth and now most people are dead or, if unlucky, enslaved. The small group of free survivors which their parents led, constantly on the run, was luckier and more protected than most thanks largely to the Silmaril Elwing bore, but they were hunted fiercely by the small surviving band of the Sons of Fëanor (down to Maedhros, Maglor and Amrod) and their few remaining followers...while all were hunted by orcs, wolves, vampires, etc.

They found some sort of rip in reality, maybe caused by Morgoth's discordant war of conquest. Eärendil went through it to seek aid from the Valar. When the Fëanorians cornered them there, waiting for his return, Elwing tried to go through it with the Silmaril. Her sons tried to follow her, holding on to the back of her shirt, holding on to each other.

They got about 1.5 out of 3, and ended up by the side of a random freeway in modern America....

Maglor and Maedhros were driving (being driven) by on their way to a concert - Maglor to sing, Maedhros bullied into having a pleasant night off while supporting his beloved (annoying) brother and smiling for the cameras. Maglor saw 2 bedraggled 6yos trudging along by the side of this random freeway and told the limo driver to pull over...

In short order,

- the Fëanorians are like, 'holy shit, hitherto unknown baby cousins of some sort?!?' because these kids eyes definitely have Light in them

- Elros tries to stab Maglor, because Maglor reaches for them and these are literally the terrible monsters they were fleeing from 30 minutes ago, albeit much cleaner and less obviously scarred, and of course the 6yos from the post-apocalyptic hellscape have their own knives + basic combat training

- Elrond is too scared to stop anything with his power, see: previous comment about monsters.

Maglor's hand gets a little stabbed. Maedhros grabs Elros's arm and wrenches the knife away before he can try again. Elrond bites Maedhros's arm, like, really hard, the way you secretly always want to try biting someone just once, lots of blood.

- Maglor Sings the children to sleep with a hasty but strong lullaby (he was under stress, okay, and stabbed!). He and Maedhros look down at the uneasily-sleeping children.

- "They look a little Turgon-y," Maglor offers. "In the eyebrows?"

- "I don't even know if that's Light like ours," says Maedhros. He kneels down to frisk each boy for more weapons, then picks them up, one in each arm. "Remember Dior?"

- (Dior, son of Lúthien and Beren, had time-travelled back a comic books time!couple years ago from a terrible future in which Fingon was actually for real and ever killed this time so the House of Fëanor went to war with the magical isolated island of Doriath, in the name of retrieving the one Silmaril free of Morgoth, to the detriment of most of the rest of the world. That terrible timeline averted, Dior had stayed in the present and (re?)married his non-future wife, a millennia-old Iathrin forest ranger named Nimloth. They'd just recently had twin sons, though clearly not these ones - those were silver-haired rather than dark, and this one who'd just stabbed Maglor definitely had Fingolfin's nose.)

- (So the Fëanorians both knew that all-out war was to be avoided at almost all cost. But Doriath actually now had two Silmarils, or rather, the same Silmaril twice over, and Maedhros didn't need to say it aloud for Maglor to understand: ransom.)

[gs0nk]

Right after I finished Aiden's route in Baldur's Gate 3, I decided to write a small text that will complete his own ending. I included Lorroakan here, cause in my version of timeline, they started to feel close to each other after first met (in which Aiden kicked Lorchie's ass really hard because he's a slavery hater and chain breaker for sure)

I also made a sketch illustration for this moment! Hope you'll enjoy reading this uwu

Lorroakan hated leaving his tower - even the invasion of illithids from the depths of the underground city could not shake his principles, and it was much easier to manage defensive processes while maintaining an unstable flow of magical energy in safety inside than outside in the epicenter of the massacre. Let those who consider themselves defenders of the city do this. However… The thought of one particular person never left my head even when it became clear: victory was on the side of the adventurers who decided to fight back the threat.

And yet, when it was all over, the cries of the defeated, newly converted victims of ceremorphosis died, and the refugees stopped bothering him with attempts to break into his house, the magician decided to go outside. The last words of the half-elf, whom he had seen quite often lately, did not want to leave his head - so often that he managed to get used to them and their “friends”, who had a habit of showing up on the threshold of the tower in their dirty armor, soaked in someone’s blood, brazenly examining every corner of his house for a moment, and even, it seems, stealing a couple of artifacts from him in the process. An unthinkable insolence that he could not tolerate and yet for some reason he forgave everything to his newfound acquaintance.

The magician himself was now thinking about how he would arrogantly reprimand this friend of his for the fact that solely because of him Lorroakan had to bother descending into a literal hell on earth, having the opportunity to contemplate the carnage that had taken place and endure the presence of not only ordinary, still frightened people, but also the stench of an alien city, wounded and practically destroyed.

Without bothering with pleasantries, he asked the aimlessly wandering locals about the heroes who put an end to the Absolute. Some still clutched makeshift weapons in their hands, unable to believe that the danger had retreated from Baldur's Gate, that it was all over. Finally, a couple of “unwashed militiamen” pointed to the pier - where the very same half-elf whom the magician so wanted to find was last seen.

Lorroakan, cursing everything that came into his field of vision, finally reached the right place and went down to the boardwalk of the pier. He did not take his eyes off the lonely silhouette of a young man in the rays of the setting sun, as if worried that he would now disappear like an illusory haze. That did not happen.

However, the magician tried to hide all unnecessary emotions, coming very close to the one he was so zealously looking for. Without wasting time on unnecessary honors to the “savior of the city,” he chuckled disdainfully:

- Are you without companions this time? Where is your noisy group of ragamuffins?

Aiden didn’t turn around at the stranger’s voice, but a smile was visible on theirs tired face. They wiped their own blood from the cut on cheek and shrugged.

- It's all over. Our story came to an end and everyone went their separate ways, and you were late for a tearful send-off. We don’t yet know which road we prefer.

The half-elf pulled a strand of red hair behind his ear and exhaled with a whistle.

- For the first time in many months, there is one less voice obsessed with world domination in my head. This change is surprisingly difficult to get used to, at least for now. And you? Have you come here to balance my loss? You're a so-so manipulator, don't flatter yourself with hopes.

Aiden didn’t see, but they knew perfectly well that the magician was now rolling his eyes and raising his right hand in a mannered gesture, as he always did, expressing his displeasure. Lorroakan crossed his arms and chuckled again.

- Oh, i beg you, how can I compete with your friends on the other side! Lolth, the incubus of Raphael, the Thai ghouls, your fragmented self, maybe there is someone else I don’t know about… But that’s not what I’m here for.

The magician crosses his arms over his chest and looks into the distance, where the sun is slowly sinking into the stormy ocean waters.

- I wanted to generously offer to stay in this terrible damn city, with me. After all your undoubtedly disgusting attempts to sabotage my well-deserved immortality, cripple me several times over that misunderstanding with the aasimar, and deprive me of my clueless student, I want, no, I demand, that you should live in my tower. You can take any vacant servant's position; today many of them chose to posthumously change their occupation.

The half-elf finally turns around and looks at Lorroacan mockingly, tilting their head slightly to the side.

- After becoming the savior of – no less – the entire world, being your servant is a huge step backwards, don’t you think?

Aiden takes a step towards the wizard and rests their forehead on his chest.

- Luckily for you, my services hardly require payment and we have no home to which we could return. And… We managed to get used to you.

- Hell, just don't force me to tell you the same thing!

Lorroakan frowns, but then the magician half-whispers and his voice is devoid of all feigned mannerisms:

- I need you. So I ask you to stay with me.

They will spend this night and all subsequent ones together.

The half-elf's hands rest on mage's shoulders. The wizard allows himself to exhale, hugging Aiden back.

Huddled close to each other, they watch as the unbearably long day recedes under the onslaught of dusk and the sun finally plunges into the depths of the waters.

[booksbydlwhite]

#SampleSunday- The Pearl: "It's time to make a move for yourself."

Welcome back to Sample Sunday! I am sharing snips of THE PEARL, my upcoming Black Diamond romance. Pick up last week’s sample to meet our hero, Davis Scott. Today we meet our heroine, Kari Savoy.

Interested in my inspirations for this novel? Follow The Pearl’s Pinterest board.

As usual, I am tracking progress and revelations of writing this book on my author podcast The Bookcast. Catch up with Episode 77 to hear how the writing is going.

“What do you think the kids will say about you leaving Austin and moving to Black Diamond?”

“Well,” I mused, thoughtfully. “Since the kids are nineteen and twenty-one, I’m not sure they care. They’re probably happy to be rid of me.”

“Nonsense. Where would Reyna and Moses would be without you? Literally, where?”

I rolled my answer around my head before giving it air and sounds. It was time, but I knew leaving my siblings would be harder than I told myself it would be.

“They got to stay in the house they’ve always known,” I parsed out, thoughtfully. “They kept a semblance of normal life. They don’t see the sacrifice it took to make that happen. Moses gets some of it, but Reyna has blinders on. They don’t know what parts of my life I put on hold to make sure they stayed together, finished school, became productive members of society. They’re used to me being there, taking care of everything, being the adult. The authority figure. I’m afraid they’ll see me moving away as abandonment. And after losing their parents, I don’t want to make them feel that.”

“You’re not abandoning them, though. You’re four hours from Austin. Phones and Face time and planes exist. And they’re both away at school. They hardly come home, anyway. It’s time to make a move for yourself, Kari.”

“True.” I raised my head and shot a sad smile across the table. “I hope they see it as me making a move for myself, and not me running away from them the first chance I got. I know that’s going to be Rey’s reaction.”

Dionne huffed, peeling away a layer of the cinnamon roll we were supposed to be sharing, but I was full from the milkshake, and talking about the difficulties of raising my siblings always sapped my appetite. “Let’s not talk about how you could have run away from them when you had to choose between staying in Houston or moving back home so they wouldn’t be split up in foster care. As for Reyna, she’s a… what are they called? Millennial? That age group that people say are self absorbed and need to be winning all the time or the earth will tilt off its axis?”

I giggled. “No, Dionne, you and I are millennials. And thank you for that unflattering description of our generation, by the way. Rey and Mo don’t like to be put in socially constructed boxes.”

“Of course. They want to be individuals. Just like everyone else.”

Dionne smiled up at the waitress as she set our bill at the corner of the table. I snatched it up and dropped it into my lap.

“Other than school and grades and attitudes… how are they? Emotionally.” She asked, going back to the cinnamon roll.

“Well, Mo has always been better than Rey, but even he has rough times, especially around the anniversary of the accident. Some days it’s like it just happened. Some days they act like everyone should be over it, and want to know why people are concerned about their mental health.”

“Do you think they’re ready to be out there on their own?” Dionne questioned, concerned.

I let out a sigh, leaning back in my chair. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone is ever really ready. We just jump. I did my best to prepare them, so we’ll see.”

Dionne nodded, understanding the weight of my words. She reached over and placed her hand on top of mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad you’re moving here,” she said softly. “You need a fresh start and new opportunities. Speaking of…”

She rolled her eyes up so they met mine. I already knew what she was about to ask. “Noah is still in the past. Right?”

“Girl, yes. Noah has been history.” 

“Does he know you’re leaving Austin, though?”

“Not from me. We haven’t spoken in months.”

“Not at all? He just stopped calling one day and…” Dionne shrugged.

“And nothing. Five years of on, then off, then on again because he was bored and between girlfriends, then disappearing into thin air. Then I see him parading other woman around town, without even having the relationship ending conversation.” I twisted my lips into a surly frown. “I can take a hint.”

“I heard that,” Dionne said. “All the way to a beachside resort.” 

[coolrahulsarin]

A comedy as funny as a penis piñata

New Post has been published on https://bestcustomjerseys.com/a-comedy-as-funny-as-a-penis-pinata/

A comedy as funny as a penis piñata

Bachelorette parties have gotten a bad rap in recent years. Increasingly expensive, time consuming and awfully tacky (hello penis straws) or boringly tasteful (omg bohemian crafts), who has the time or inclination to shell out hundreds of pounds to share a room with a stranger in Bath before playing. Mr and Mrs and immediately wishing you didn’t know that the boyfriend’s favorite sex position was reverse cowgirl?

Me. I’ve got the time. As one of the last women left on earth who still admits out loud that she enjoys a sleazy, fancy bachelorette party, you’d think Apocalypse! – a sitcom about a chicken, set during the end of the world – would be right up my street. I thought so too, until I saw it. Even though the show was created by the usually funny Caroline Moran (raised by wolves), the first episode of Apocalypse! it was a pink mess, full of penis paraphernalia.

Five chickens made their way from the West Midlands to a remote cottage in Wales to demand Zara’s weekend special. “I was pretty clear that I wanted Lanzarote, but I’m dealing with it,” complained the bride-to-be (Lucie Shorthouse). Along the way in a fuchsia rental car, we learned a bit about each gang member by watching how they responded to a literal car crash. Bernadette (Elizabeth Berrington) was the screaming mother who caused the accident by yelling at another driver not to judge her daughter for urinating in the parking lot. Shelly (Callie Cooke), Zara’s best friend and driver of the group of chickens, was the good guy with both shoes because she seemed mortified and non-stop apologetic, but she also fled the scene, so who knows how far her morale will go? before Armageddon.

Related article

There was also Jen (Kate O’Flynn), Zara’s cousin, whose insistence on ill-fitting heels led her to bleed all over the furniture, and Veena (Lauren O’Rourke), the only woman capable of understanding Bluetooth (it’s just sexist). if men say so, okay?).

Things got tense for a moment when the police arrived, but then Officer Drew (Ben McGregor) took off his clothes and started fighting everyone in tight gold pants while everyone was drinking vodka and hitting penis piñatas, so everything was set. well, even when they ignored the TV on in the corner announcing the rapidly unfolding “crab measles” catastrophe.

There were some crude references to the pandemic, as some guy Chris Whitty died at the lectern (I still feel like it might be too early for these jokes) after announcing that Britain’s population was being rapidly wiped out. It turned out that men were particularly at risk. Cut to eight weeks later, and poor Drew was chained to a radiator (“He’s the future of the human race!” Shelly exclaimed, after emptying her chamber pot out the window), while the ladies were lining up coffee. instant and smelt markers. For breakfast.

When they finally decided to break the quarantine and see what was out there, the response was some abandoned kiosks where the girls made fun of the cereal (“It’s a Birds Eye graveyard,” Bernadette wailed, looking at some long thawed fish fingers), a stranger vowed to do it. Morning kegels, and Drew running, still in those tiny gold pants.

The problem was that none of it was really much fun. So many girls who are misbehaving and yet not outrageous enough to get hot fluff vibes, nor (at least not yet) committed enough to their relationships for that healthy feeling the intermediates he gave us even when he increased the blowjob jokes.

Maybe this will change in the next five episodes. The acting is great, it just needs better writing. I have a feeling that somewhere behind the childish humor is a decent girlfriend story just dying to get out.

The show airs Tuesday 15 August at 10pm on BBC Two.

#comedy #funny #penis #piñata

[qqueenofhades]

In light of OceangateGate, by show of hands, who still wants Elon Musk to send them to Mars?

I mean, this whole thing (like I kept saying in tags) is both grimly fascinating and utterly predictable. Because there's this whole culture that you could and should do absolutely anything anywhere on earth, if you're able to pay for it, and at the same time that the companies offering these experiences can do absolutely everything to cut corners and make profits while placing people in incredibly dangerous situations. Whether it's the mountain adventure companies who take tens of thousands of dollars to shunt total novices up Mount Everest, or this, it's just like... MAYBE YOU SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO MAKE EVERYTHING INTO A HYPER-CAPITALIST COMMODITY JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE RICH AND/OR WANT TO TAKE MORE MONEY FROM RICH PEOPLE! MAYBE!

Within 48 hours of this story breaking, we have learned that:

The sub is not tested or certified by literally any regulatory agency, because "innovation can't wait for rules"

The sub is built of fucking camping store gear and a video game joystick, they did not pay for appropriately certified parts for the depths they wanted to go, and the company fired the guy who pointed it out, rather than dealing with any of the issues he raised

The CEO (one of those now missing on the sub) gave an interview talking about how "at some point, safety is just waste"

In 2018, a literal group of esteemed submersible experts wrote to this guy about how his plans were bad and he should feel bad; he ignored it

The sub does not have basic safety equipment, a readily available backup vehicle, an acoustic beacon, etc, and has gone missing several times before; it is only luck that they found it those times

You can't get out of the fucking thing by yourself even if it is on the surface

It used Elon Musk's Starlink satellites for communication and cited SpaceX as a private adventure tourism model (as noted, you know, the rockets that keep literally blowing up)

You have to sign an enormous waiver (after paying $250,000 a head) acknowledging this entire thing is completely unregulated and you may very well die

Which it looks like these poor schmucks either have or are soon going to, either by imploding instantly at great depth (the merciful option) or slowly suffocating in a freezing coffin in the dark (the absolute hell option)

Like?!?! How was this not COMPLETELY predictable?

And this happened WHILE THEY WERE GOING TO THE TITANIC

You know, the most famous case of Man vs. Nature technological hubris in history

I mean. This is the ultimate outcome and perfect encapsulation of the "no rules no regulations ever, everything including the most dangerous things are crassly commodified for money, everyone is an expert and/or experience is irrelevant, safety rules only exist to hamper innovation and disrupt The Free Market, costs should be cut on everything for more profits, and this should all continue regardless of the consequences or the impact on the other people then required to endanger themselves to rescue them" late-stage capitalist hellscape we are living in. And maybe I shouldn't have laughed, but uh, I laughed:

[rowiewritesstuff]

Ahem, yes it is I! So an idea literally bashed me in the face and I couldn't help but think 'Oh this is an interesting idea!' What if different versions Transformers have this crossover (Bayverse, T.F.P., T.F.A., GEN 1, Knightverse which is one of my favourites because of Charlie and Bumblebee or any other universes you're familiar with it) where T.F.P.'s groundbridge malfunctioned (probably Wheeljack and Bulkhead) The reader works in the T.F.P. universe Ratchet's assistant and they're his guardian on top of that. Of course, instead of sending them to a desired location the groundbridge ended up locating them in a different dimension... it was Bayverse's while the other dimensions were already there and T.F.P. just lands there last. Just complete and utter silence until Miko says something. You can tell how shit went downhill from there, but let's pretend no one dies for the sake of it all. My dearest reader and T.F.P. O.P. are dating but also not dating; they're just orbiting one another while being friends and T.F.P.'s O.P. is just content and not necessarily talkative but just sweet with the reader. Always carrying them around and so on. Of course, the other universes notice that. Jazz from Gen 1 is just smirking in that damn corner and all versions of Prowl wondering why is their lives are like this. It doesn't help that T.F.P.'s Ratchet has been tired of seeing these two idiots being in love and not doing shit about it. Obviously, the other O.P. versions caught on and the reactions... varied. Surprise, to utter.. confusion and curiosity to completely just wondering if there is a reader on their Earth. You can always add in anything you wish; I really love bantering amongst the others too! AND IRONHIDE'S REACTIONS TOO-

Multiverse to Bayverse  (Transformers Multiverse/ TMV)

Will probably edit it later for typos lol

(Bayverse, Animated, Prime, Earthspark, Gen 1)

Various! Optimus Primes X Reader

Ratchet noticed something was wrong with the groundbridge when it started growing a weird yellowish color. Before anyone could say anything, a wave covered all of them in golden light.

June, who walked in with popcorn, looked around the room in question. “Uh, guys?”

You all landed on the harsh ground, and heard a voice. Before you could hit the ground, Optimus caught you in his servos. 

We all looked up to see a large group of around twenty Cybertronians. There was complete silence in the room as everyone looked at eachother, when Miko chimes in. “Uh, why are there like five Optimus Primes? Raise of hands if you’re secretly another Optimus.”

Everyone gave her a deadpan look when you realized quickly that you were not in your Optimus’ servos. You looked up to see an almost cartoonish looking bot, smiling sheepishly down at you. 

“Uh, hi. I’m Optimus Prime, nice to meet you.” 

You squinted at him, and looked around the room. “Okay so I assume that this has to do with the groundbridge explosion- or I’m in a weird dream.”

The four Optimus Primes that were new to you looked at you in confusion. “Groundbridge?” Two chime in.

“Uh… yeah. A scaled down version of the space bridge. Ratchet engineered it to transport everyone anywhere on Earth- we couldn’t have anything as high-scale as a space bridge because we lack the energon for it.”

“Well why don’t you just use oil?” A voice sounds. 

You all look over to a green bot. “Bulkhead?” Arcee asked.

“Uh, yeah- how do you know my name?” 

Your Bulkhead made his way forward to inspect the other one. At the same time both Bulkheads showed their wrecking ball hand. “Woah! Twins!” Both of them said at the same time.

“Bulk, please never do that again,” Miko looked at them in joking fear. “You remind me of the twins from that one horror movie.”

“Aww come on Miko! It’s not everyday you meet, well, yourself!” Bulkhead grumbled. 

“Can we focus on the situation, please?” A gray mech asked. They looked strikingly like Megatron. The next second, almost everyone in the room had their guns trained on him.

He quickly backed up with his hands above his heads. One Optimus stood in front of him, hands up. “Woah, this Megatron is an autobot now! He’s alright.”

Everyone squinted or glared at him. Generation One’s Optimus didn’t back down. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I know for certain that I’m not cool with Megatron being here.”

You turned to him, gaping. “Did you just say ‘cool’? What?” 

Jazz laughed aloud. “Yeah, that’s Op for ya! He just started learning Earth slang from Spike!”

“Alright, enough!” All of the Ratchets shouted at once. Everyone looked at them. A good eighty percent of the room burst into giggles or tried their best to stop that urge.

“Looks like no matter what dimension you go to, Ratchet’s always the same.” Wheeljack said. A chorus of varied agreements sounded through the room, making the renowned grouches grumble.

Soon enough, you all began figuring out how you were all there. It was pretty much the same for everyone- one way or another, a yellow light ran over them.

You all started constructing various groundbridges in hopes that it could somehow send you home. 

You often hung out with your Prime, making everyone else curious about your relationship. You could almost always be seen on his shoulder or in his servo. You almost never walked anywhere.

It was pretty obvious to everyone- except a few of the younger bots like animated Bumblebee and Knightverse Bumblebee.

Bayverse Prime (with his never ending confidence) was the first to approach you. “Hello, (Y/N). Would you like to go on a walk with me?” He held his hand out. You stepped onto his hand and sat down. 

As he made his way out of base, everyone watched you two. Primeverse Optimus couldn’t help but feel a pang in his chest as you both walked out. He knew that he didn’t have a right to feel that way- you two weren’t even together. Not yet, at least. 

Everyone noticed the look on his face even though he himself didn’t.

All of the Ratchets had the same thought: ‘Primes (Derogatory)’. 

Optimus from the Animated universe was confused. He was normally pretty in tune with his emotions, and he doesn’t see why Prime Optimus doesn’t just ask you out. He’d been trying to subtly hint at that, but Prime Optimus was somehow oblivious. Animated Optimus also wondered if you existed in his universe- you were very charming and, he’s embarrassed to say, cute.

G1 Optimus teased your Optimus on the subject. He always mentioned how back in his day he was a spark breaker. Earthspark Optimus always tried to scold G1 Optimus for his behaviors, but then G1 Jazz would join in on the teasing so he’d have to chase both of them around.

Earthspark Optimus would comfort him, trying to encourage him gently to follow his spark. While he’ll never understand the attraction to a human, he believes that it’s not really his business. Even Earthspark Megatron gave fairly good advice to the other bot. 

Bayverse Ironhide sort of agreed with their advice- but also warned the Prime. “If you wait too long, they’ll find another. Make something of yourself, Prime!”

You both stopped at a pond and he sat down on the ground. He placed you gently next to him as he threw seeds into the water. You both watched as fish swam to the surface and bobbed up and down to try and snag a treat.

“Are you and my counterpart… together?” 

A flushed look covered your face as you snapped your head towards him. “Wh-n- I-” You covered your face with your hands. “No, we aren’t together.”

“Ah. I see.” Bayverse Optimus had a lot more experience with this sort of thing. “So you have feelings for him, then?”

Your face got impossibly warmer and simply nodded. “We haven’t been dating so to say… but we’re really close. I would just never have the guts to… you know.” 

Bayverse Optimus merely nodded at you and left you at the pond by yourself. When he got back into the base he and Ironhide grabbed the Prime by his arms and began dragging him off. The other Primes and Ratchets knew exactly what was going on and followed.

When they got into a more secluded room of the base, they set him down and pushed him into a chair. Primeverse Optimus was confused and a little anxious as the many bots surrounded him.

“When are you going to ask them out?” G1 Optimus teased. 

Primverse merely shook his head. “I don’t think that is a good idea at the moment. There’s a war go-”

“Oh stop being a fragging boltbrain!” Bayverse Ratchet yelled. 

“They have been waiting for you to ask them out for months now!” Primeverse Ratchet yelled. 

His eyes widened at that knowledge. “I don’t know.”

“Fine, I guess I’ll go ask the lil’ lady on a date then.” Jazz began to strut out of the room when Optimus shouted for him to stop.

“What should I say?” Primeverse Optimus questioned. 

“Alright, so here’s what you say.”

While you were at the pond,  a gathering of girls and femme bots surrounded you.

“So he still hasn’t asked you out yet?!” The Arcees were shocked.

“Yeah, you’d think he would have by now, right?” Their counterpart from Primeverse shook her head. “I think he’s just worried about the war.”

Miko threw her hands over her head. “So?! He needs to get the girl!” 

Your hands were holding your face yet again. Prowl gently laid a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, (Y/N). Good things come in time- and some bots,” he glared at everyone else, “Shouldn’t rush it.”

You smiled up at the ninjabot. “Thanks, Prowl.” 

He smiled back, though irritated at the situation. Some bots were so nosy and loud. They always had to get into everything and couldn’t leave well enough alone. 

Suddenly you were swept up by Jazz, who yelled out “Sorry, I’m borrowing the lil’ lady!” Prowl facepalmed as the girls cheered.

You and Optimus were shoved into a room together. The large bot offered a hand to you which you stepped onto. He raised you up to eye level.

“I” He paused to get his words together. “I have had feelings for you for a while. I know that we’ve been friends for a while, and just friends. I have no clue if you share the sa-”

“If you’re asking me out, the answer is yes.” You planted a shy kiss on his faceplate. The Prime’s cheeks grew a flushed blue. Suddenly confetti streamers fell on the two of you. You both looked up to see Miko, Animated Bee, and Sari in the rafters. A bucket fell on Optimus’ head which made the rafter bound group wince.

“Uh.. congrats?” Bumblebee quickly grabbed the other two kids and bolted. 

You and Optimus chuckled as he brought you up to his faceplate for another kiss.

ALTERNATIVE ENDING:

You and Optimus were shoved into a room together. The large bot offered a hand to you which you stepped onto. He raised you up to eye level. “I-” he paused to get his words together. “Well, my name is Optimus Prime, yo! The other primes are my friends, yo! Uh-huh, they told me everything.”

You looked up at Optimus in confusion, about to say something when he continued. 

“And I like you a lot, yo!” 

Outside the door, everyone looked at Jazz with glares. He just shrugged as a grin pulled at his face. "What? I’m sure it will work.”

[inairbinad]

Steve's Got a Date with a Vampire! (7)

Now Complete! | Explicit Part One | Part Six | Read on AO3

warnings: none. just a fluffy little epilogue.

A few days after their first date—first everything—Steve and Eddie decided it was probably time to resurface long enough to actually socialize with other people.

Technically, only Robin and Nancy knew that he and Eddie were officially dating now. But Steve knew well enough that between Dustin’s big mouth and the fact that neither Steve nor Eddie had shown their faces anywhere but at work for several days, everyone in their little group had to know by now. 

Not that Steve minded. He wouldn’t mind putting out a newsletter about it, actually, he was so fucking happy. 

Especially when he kept getting to eat breakfast with Eddie every morning. Or Steve got to eat, at least, and Eddie usually watched while they talked.

It was sickeningly domestic, and Steve absolutely loved it.

“So we’re telling them we’re boyfriends, right?” Steve asked around a mouthful of toast. He considered torturing Dustin a little and pretending they were still dancing around it, just for shits and giggles. But Steve was pretty sure he was too enamored with using the word boyfriend to really get away with such a deception for longer than a minute or two.

“Mhmm,” Eddie hummed softly, not bothering to hide his own satisfied little smile at the thought. Steve had to brush his toes against Eddie’s leg under the table just to do something about how cute it was.

“What about the levitating thing?” Steve asked, unsure if Eddie wanted to keep that just between them. Eddie’s best guess about why it happened was that he was literally so happy he could fly, and Steve wasn’t exactly eager to dispel that notion in any way. Which is exactly what would happen if that became Dustin’s newest “problem” to solve. 

It didn’t seem like Eddie was all that enthusiastic, either. He chewed his lip in thought for a moment before responding.

“I’m really not quite ready to be the flying monkey again, Stevie,” he sighed. “They’ve just started getting used to the new me, anyway. No need to go adding extra oddities to the mix.”

“That’s fair,” Steve agreed, but felt the need to clarify one worry that was written all over Eddie’s face. “But you know everyone’s still gonna love you, flying or not, right?”

Eddie huffed out a soft little sigh, like he did know that deep down, but he had needed to hear it anyway. Then the corners of his mouth twitched up in a teasing grin that made Steve’s heart sputter.

“Oh yeah? Everyone?” Eddie asked, holding Steve’s gaze until his face felt hot from the implication. Eddie didn’t make him sweat it out for long, though, and deftly moved back to the point. “If Dustin finds out about the floating thing, he’s gonna want us to recreate the initial circumstances, for science and shit, and he’s gonna want to watch.”

“Oh, shit,” Steve breathed out, realizing there was no way on earth Eddie could start feeding from his neck again in front of anyone without it being an embarrassing disaster. “You’re right.”

“I know,” Eddie crowed, then slipped his hand up Steve’s thigh beneath the kitchen table and squeezed. “We can always practice figuring it out on our own.”

God, Steve wanted to kiss him.

Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, with a surprised jolt Steve realized he didn’t have to quash that impulse anymore. So he leaned across the table with a smile playing at his lips and waited for Eddie to meet him halfway.

Despite days of Steve practically hanging from Eddie’s lips every chance he got, sometimes Eddie still got this little surprised look on his face when Steve moved in to kiss him. On the one hand, Steve wanted Eddie to know deep in his bones that Steve always wanted to kiss him, to touch him, to show his affection in a million ways big and small until Eddie didn’t question it for a second.

And yet.

The little quirk of Eddie’s brow when Steve would start to tip his face to the side, or the sparkle in his eye that read something like again?, and really?, and lucky me, drove Steve absolutely wild. Part of him hoped Eddie never stopped.

Steve didn’t think it’d be a bad thing if neither one of them ever lost a little bit of the wonder at being each other’s, out of all the other people in the world.

Steve relished in that same sparkle for a moment as he nudged his nose against Eddie’s. “Let’s just not fly too high, yeah?”

He really never tired of making Eddie laugh, especially not when he was close enough to feel it, or to see the mirth that lit up his eyes.

“Deal, sweetheart.”

Eddie finally brushed his lips against Steve’s in a soft promise that might’ve been enough to send Steve flying out into orbit anyway.

— — —

A couple of hours later, Steve was lazily lounging on a floatie and trying to catch some sun before the gremlins arrived, while Eddie read a book in the shade nearby. It seemed only fitting that they have another day by the pool, considering how this had all started.

Soon enough, Steve’s peace was thoroughly disturbed by the sound of Dustin’s screeching reaching his ears. Steve bolted upright and turned towards the racket, confused, until he noticed literally everyone standing around the edge of the pool and staring at his chest.

His chest that was littered with bites, bruises, and scratches, all on full display as he sunbathed.

“Oh my god,” Robin said, just barely containing a full-on cackle. When even Robin was staring at his chest with wide eyes and a tilt to her chin, Steve knew he had to be a sight. 

Steve nearly felt embarrassed—but not quite. This was his house, goddamnit, and he’d show off that Eddie was his boyfriend now as much as he damn well pleased.

“Get it out now,” he sighed as he paddled over towards the edge of the pool to climb out. Steve looked over to see Eddie’s reaction, only to find he was very determinedly hiding his face in his book. 

“I knew it,” Dustin squealed, practically bouncing. Steve didn’t think that was a particularly impressive claim, since Dustin had been the one to set it up, but he shrugged it off as everyone else chimed in.

“How are you not dead?” Mike asked, and Nancy did the honors of pinching the back of his neck in response. “What? It’s a legitimate question!”

“Max, you’re staring,” Lucas pointed out, and Max shrugged him off without averting her eyes for a moment.

“So what? We all are,” she said, completely unbothered. 

“Not like that,” Lucas argued as Steve finally got out of the pool and dried off. He wasn’t going to be the one to point out that Lucas himself was very much staring in the same vein as Max, since he was trying to stay humble.

“Dude, that’s true love right there,” Argyle said to Jonathan as much as he did Steve. It was the first thing that made Steve actually blush, so Robin took it as her cue to swoop in and shut down the commentary for now.

“Steve and Eddie are happy, yes?” she asked, looking between them. Eddie finally peeked out from behind his book and gave Robin a blinding smile and a thumbs up. Steve just nodded as he swooned a little. “Right. Then let’s be happy for them and try to act civilized.”

“Thank you, Robin,” Steve shot her a grateful smile that she returned in kind. Then he moved over to sit on the same chair as Eddie, folding himself between Eddie’s legs until his back rested comfortably against his boyfriend’s chest. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s middle, and Steve raised his eyebrows at everyone in a challenge.

No one was cowed, though. Dustin lit up like the sun itself, and the rest of the kids broke out in a chorus of “fucking finally”s while the older teens just gave Eddie and Steve looks of sympathy and happiness in equal parts. 

“That went about as well as we could have hoped,” Eddie muttered in Steve’s ear. 

Steve had barely hummed in response as Dustin came and plopped on the chair beside them. 

“You could at least say thank you,” he grinned.

Steve twisted around enough to look at Eddie, who gave him a sheepish smile in return when he said, “Spoke too soon.”

“Hey, we helped!” Erica called Dustin out immediately, gesturing towards herself and El. Steve already knew that El was involved, but Erica too?

“How did you help?” Steve asked her, cutting right into whatever argument Dustin was teeing up.

“Tina’s brother was the one working the Ferris wheel,” Erica shrugged, and Steve tensed just thinking about being stuck up there again. Eddie squeezed him a little tighter, probably to help Steve remember they were on solid ground just as much as it was to keep Steve from shoving Erica, Dustin, and El into the pool over it. 

Erica didn’t seem bothered by the queasy look on Steve’s face, and explained further. “I threatened to send pages of his journal to his crush if he didn’t let you all dangle for a while after El stopped the wheel. Now Dustin owes me a favor.” 

The devious glint in her eye almost made Steve feel bad for Dustin. Almost.

“You little shits,” Steve grit out, somehow both impressed and irritated at their dedication. “I’m scared of heights!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten on the Ferris wheel then?” Mike chimed in, and Eddie snorted. 

“What happened to leaving them alone?” Jonathan asked calmly. Steve wanted to kiss his forehead.

“I just think I deserve a little credit!” Dustin said. Robin came over to shoo him out of his chair so she could take it for herself, and by some miracle Dustin complied. Steve still wondered how the hell she got him to do whatever she wanted.

“Then so do we,” El affirmed, backing Erica up. “And so does Murray.”

“Murray?” Nancy perked up, more interested now. “What does he have to do with it?”

“Dustin called him up and asked for matchmaking tips weeks ago,” Lucas filled Nancy in. Apparently everyone was privy to Dustin’s plans, and had been all along. Steve didn’t know why he was surprised.

“Is that who you were calling sir over the radio?” Steve asked, the puzzle pieces finally slotting together. “For your ‘project?’”

“Yep,” Dustin beamed, still standing over them while everyone else dispersed to either the pool or their own chairs.

“So you didn’t really come up with any of those schemes on your own, then?” Eddie asked, sounding a little disappointed. 

“I did so!” Dustin squeaked. “All Murray suggested was getting you two alone where you couldn’t avoid each other. Preferably in small spaces, and maybe to encourage some friendly competition. But I did the rest!”

“Yeah, that tracks,” Eddie hummed. “No one but Henderson would’ve come up with the linen closet story.”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Dustin challenged, and Steve didn’t really want to rehash how he’d fallen for the nasal spray excuse.

“And our dinner?” Eddie asked, trudging right along. “Did you know it was gonna storm?”

“Of course I did,” Dustin scoffed. “What do you take me for, an amateur?”

“And I assume El was why the power went out?” Steve sighed. 

“Actually, no,” Dustin laughed, obviously proud of himself. “But she would have been if it hadn’t gone out on its own.”

Steve twisted around to give Eddie a look. “I told you so.”

But Eddie had a much more horrified expression on his face, and it took Steve a second to realize why. If Dustin had waited around to see if the power went out, that meant he could’ve seen…

“Wait,” Steve grit out, feeling like his whole body was about to erupt into flames. “How long did you wait around and watch?”

“Just long enough to see you kiss!” Dustin defended himself. And while Steve would admit that was a mildly relieving answer, it still left him thoroughly mortified. 

“You little creeps just stood around in the rain to make sure we kissed?” Eddie asked, his voice sounding much squeakier than usual. 

“We had raincoats,” El shrugged. 

“I needed to be sure you had it covered, Steve,” Dustin said in his most condescending tone. “You weren’t exactly taking initiative!”

Steve didn’t know how Eddie escaped that particular critique, but Steve wasn’t really sure he could stomach any more of this conversation long enough to ask. He felt like he’d just dodged the most appalling bullet of all time—and one that probably would have ruined his sex life at that.

“If I say thank you will you shut up about it? Forever?” Steve asked, completely exasperated and unwilling to hear any more bragging from the little shits. 

Eddie turned into Steve’s shoulder to hide a laugh. Even after days of not taking their hands off of each other, little things like Eddie’s breath on his skin still had Steve feeling all mushy.

“Yes,” Dustin said simply.

“Thank you, Dust,” Steve and Eddie both said in unison. Then Eddie added, “Now shoo. Go play with your friends.”

Dustin rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning as he walked away.

Their peace only lasted about three minutes.

“I know I said we’d drop it, but…” Nancy trailed off, glancing between Eddie’s face and Steve’s neck and chest. “Does this mean we can stop our clandestine trips to the blood bank?”

Steve snorted, imagining Eddie and Nancy driving a getaway car full of bagged blood, but he could feel how Eddie tensed behind him. 

“Uh, maybe less frequently,” Eddie half-mumbled. “Still not trying to kill my boyfriend.”

“Hey,” Steve turned his head to look Eddie in the eye. “I’m fine, okay? No guilt, please.”

Eddie’s lips twitched every time Steve said please, he noticed, so Steve might’ve been tossing the word around a little more than usual. He figured it couldn’t hurt to be polite.

“That reminds me. I got you something,” Robin perked up and started rummaging around in her tote bag. Steve and Eddie alike leaned forward, trying to get a peek at what she was doing. “Aha! Here.”

Robin held out a large, rattling bottle for Steve to take. He pinched his eyebrows together in confusion as he read the label. “Vitamins?”

“Iron supplements,” Robin said. Steve wasn’t sure how she managed to look both playful and stern about it, but she pulled it off with ease. “Take two every day so you don’t get anemic.”

Dustin apparently found this hilarious, which only set off a chain of everyone else snickering in appreciation at Robin’s gift. Steve hadn’t even realized anyone else had even been paying attention to them, but he couldn’t muster much more than an amused eye roll over their antics. Even Eddie chuckled lightly before pressing a soft kiss into the bare skin of Steve’s shoulder, which made it all that much easier for Steve to refuse to be embarrassed about this, too. 

“Thanks Rob,” he said with a genuine smile.

“Oh you’ll thank Robin without issue,” Dustin said, which set Erica and El off again at demanding he stop taking all the credit. With the kids bickering again, Robin leaned in further so only Steve and Eddie could hear her.

“You should probably start eating more salads, too. Leafy greens in particular,” Robin suggested. When Steve just scrunched up his nose at her in reply, she sighed. “It won’t kill you. Might even make you taste better.”

Steve felt his bare chest flush, especially when Eddie’s grip on him tightened just a fraction as he huffed out another laugh. Steve powered through it anyway, shooting Robin a smirk. “I’ve heard I already taste pretty damn good, Robs.”

Eddie’s quick bark of a laugh came with an enthusiastic nod, and now it was Robin’s turn to look disgusted.

“Please don’t ever tell me that again,” she said, even though she was the one who brought it up in the first goddamn place. 

Steve just leaned further back into Eddie’s arms and gave her a smug look. 

“‘Pretty damn good’ doesn’t touch it, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured in Steve’s ear, too low for anyone else to hear. Then, quick like a cat, Eddie licked a stripe up the side of Steve’s neck until he reached Steve’s ear, and gently nipped at the lobe. It sent a shiver down Steve’s spine as he mentally cursed Eddie for making him want with such ease, and in front of everyone else. 

“Eds,” Steve warned over his shoulder. “Not again.”

“What?” Eddie said, voice dripping with faux innocence. “I didn’t even make any popsicles today.”

Steve leaned his head back against Eddie’s shoulder, groaning as much as he laughed. It was going to be a long summer, and Steve couldn’t wait to dive in.

Yeah I definitely have more Vamp!Eddie ideas so. Stay tuned.