#who built the moon era

[phoenixkaptain]

I love it when pre Original Trilogy era shows how much effort went into making the Death Star. It took decades, literal decades, and it took so much money and so many people and it was such a secretive thing and it’s staffed by millions because it’s the size of a small moon.

I cannot express how much all of the added information makes it so much funnier that Luke blew it up.

Luke destroys literally everything Palpatine built. He blows up the Death Star, which was referenced in universe as early as the second movie. He blew up the weapon of mass destruction twenty years in the making. And he blew it up pretty much directly after it’s first and only successful attack. It was operational for fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes that Palpatine had the thing he’d been building for longer than Luke has been alive, and Luke blows it up. First day retirement, but first hour retirement.

Luke convinces Darth Vader to turn back to the light side, a feat thought literally impossible by literally everybody. Sidious clearly doesn’t see Vader’s betrayal coming. Vader’s betrayal was not in his plans, nor was it something he was prepared for. Sidious is a powerful Force user with all four limbs while Vader is a man in the tin can Palpatine put him in. If Palpatine had seen Vader turning coming, he would not have allowed it to happen.

Luke literally should not even be alive. Palpatine almost definitely got Padme out of the way on purpose, and he almost certainly was trying for her unborn child as well (there was way too big of a risk that a cute liddol bebe would bring some humanity back to Anakin, and Palpatine did not want Anakin to have any humanity) Luke living is literally the first step in Palpatine’s ultimate downfall, especially once Vader finds out that Luke is his son. His very alive son. His son that is not dead, despite Palpatine claiming Anakin killed Padme. Implying that Anakin killed Padme and she posthumously gave birth. But, she didn’t give birth on Mustafar, which was the last place Anakin interacted with her. And once the mother dies, you have to get those fuckers out fast or they die too.

I imagine Darth Vader piecing all of this together is that meme with all the math floating around his head, because how could Padme have died by his hand and then given birth like two hours later?

Luke killing Palpatine is what ultimately leads to the dissolution of the Empire as an omnipotent entity. Luke killed the Empire. Luke spends a good amount of his adult life killing Empire remnants. We see that in the Mandalorian, since he’s so recognizable that Gideon immediately knows he’s fucked just by seeing an X-wing. We read it in Legends’ continuity, where Luke terrifies Imperials because he can walk into their changing room and stand in their for a minute and they don’t even notice.

Luke destroyed Palpatine’s life’s work. Everything Palpatine spent his whole life working towards, and Luke kills all of it. He blows up not one, but two Death Stars (he may not have pulled the trigger on the second Death Star, but without him, it never would have been destroyed). He convinces not one, but multiple Sith and Dark Jedi to return from the Dark Side. He is the only reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the biggest pain in Palpatine’s ass ever born, lives long enough to make it to the Death Star.

Palpatine went through so much effort. And just when he had finally won, when he finally had a weapon capable of destroying entire planets with a single blast, making it impossible for any planets or peoples to go against him, Luke shows up nineteen years late to the Jedi party with space Starbucks and a droid twice his age and almost singlehandedly destroys everything Palpatine ever had a hand in creating.

Luke manages to become even worse than Obi-Wan Kenobi, the ultimate thorn in the side of politicians, and Luke doesn’t even understand any politics. He wasn’t trained in diplomacy like Obi-Wan and Leia, no, he’s a farmboy who left home for the first time in his entire life, just this morning. And he is the one to destroy the Empire.

If they rewrote Star Wars and had it entirely from Palpatine’s perspective, Luke Skywalker would be his greatest foe. Luke Skywalker would be the final boss. Luke Skywalker is the antithesis of everything Palpatine believes in and he is the one character that Palpatine cannot predict. He isn’t as moldable as Anakin, he doesn’t respond to threats very well, he’s apparently impossible to kill via Force lightning (still the funniest scene of all times, the progression of Palpatine’s face falling and him looking like “what the fuck??? Is this kid rubber??? I’ve electrocuted him eight times???”), his unwavering faith in his father’s goodness makes Darth Vader want to be a better person, Luke Skywalker is the big bad of Palpatine’s story and—

There is nothing in this world that is funnier than someone’s biggest antagonist being Luke fucking Skywalker. Luke Skywalker, who saved the galaxy with the power of love and who shouldn’t exist, by Jedi rules and by Palpatine’s own attempts, and whose best friends are literally droids, which Palpatine canonically hates!

Everything about this is hilarious, this is the funniest thing in all of media, Palpatine loses absolutely everything to some backwater farmboy who fucking likes droids.

[seriallover]

Why certain people capture the spotlight?⭐️

1. The luminaries, the Sun and Moon naturally draw attention in a birth chart. People with strong Sun or Moon placements tend to light up any room they enter, effortlessly standing out.

Just like everyone loves capturing the beauty of a sunrise or the glow of a full moon, those with these placements have a magnetic energy that people can’t help but notice.

It’s almost like they’re always in the spotlight, which is why they often feel the need to look their best.☀️🌕

Beyoncé, Purva Phalguni Sun, Chitra Lagna and Venus.

Michael Jackson, Magha Sun and Shatabhisha Lagna.

Bella Hadid, Purva Phalguni Moon and Lagna.

There's not much to say about Beyoncé and Michael that isn't already well-known—they're icons in their own right, the biggest stars of our time. Bella Hadid has become the most photographed model off-duty and in 2022, she was named Model of the Year.

Gia Carangi, often hailed as the first true supermodel, paved the way for all the other supermodels that followed. She had a Shravana Sun and Lagnesh, with Hasta as her Lagna and a Shatabhisha Moon.

Britney Spears, Shravana Moon, was one of the most photographed stars for a while. The crazy amount of media attention even led to harassment and really affected her mental health.

Gisele Bündchen, Pushya Sun and Purva Phalguni Lagna, the only "Ubermodel"-that means being more than a supermodel.

Lauren Hutton, Pushya Moon and Lagna, holds the record for the most Vogue covers—26 in total.

I previously explored about how lunar-dominant people often achieve significant success on social media.

2. Chitra Nakshatra, known as the "Star of Opportunity," carries the Shakti of "accumulating merit." The word "Chitra" translates to "wonderful" and "pleasing to look at," as well as "illusion."

The deity of this nakshatra is Tvastar, the celestial architect who designed the universe. The symbol of Chitra is the "pearl" or "bright jewel," symbolizing beauty and uniqueness.💎💍

"Chitra" also means "picture," so individuals with this nakshatra are often naturally photogenic. 📸Tvastar, as the creator of Maya (illusion), grants those under Chitra the ability to craft captivating personas, making them talented models, photographers, actors, and successful on social media.

Kim Kardashian, Chitra Sun, built a career centered on her image. As one of the first influencers, she's become one of the most prominent and influential figures on social media. In 2015, she released “Selfish”, a book featuring a collection of her selfies.

Cindy Kimberly, Chitra Moon and Shravana Lagna, shot to fame because of her striking beauty. Her big break came when Justin Bieber posted about her on his Instagram. Now, she’s a major beauty influencer and a well-known model.

Anna Nicole Smith, Chitra Sun and Hasta Moon, made a name for herself as a model, completely based on her image. She was once one of the most photographed women in the world, and photographers loved working with her, often saying she was one of the easiest and most exciting people to capture on camera.

The thing with Chitra individuals is that, because of Tvastar, the celestial craftsman, their features often become iconic. For instance, Kim drew the attention to the BBL, Cindy’s nose has become a major inspiration for many women, and Anna Nicole brought attention back to curvy bodies at a time when the "heroin chic" look was in vogue, reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe's era.

3. Dhanishtha🌟 Shakti is "power to give abundance and fame," meaning "the most famous," "the most heard of." This nakshatra is recurring in the charts of people who usually marry famous individuals, making them well-known as well, often attracting more attention than their partner.

Princess Diana, Dhanishtha Moon and Magha Lagnesh, was the most photographed woman in the world, holding the record for the most sold-out paparazzi pictures, including one that sold for 6 million dollars.

Marilyn Monroe, Rohini Sun, Dhanishtha Moon, and Ashlesha Lagna, was also one of the most photographed women of her time.

4. Shatabhisha, meaning "hundred stars" and represented by a veiled star and an empty circle, is a nakshatra ruled by Rahu. ⭕️

This nakshatra is associated with illusion, the power to effect radical change, innovation, the foreign, esoteric influences, and trends. The empty circle can also symbolize the idea of a cult or community, like the Navy for Rihanna.

Rihanna, Shatabhisha Sun, stands out as one of the most influential artists and fashion icons. She has consistently set trends in the fashion world, with her style serving as an inspiration to many. Recently, her maternity looks have redefined how celebrities approach their appearance during pregnancy, bringing a stylish twist to the norm.

Demi Moore, Lagnesh in Shravana and Jupiter in Shatabhisha in the first house, set a trend for nude pregnancy photoshoots. At the time, this was quite controversial, but it has since become a common practice not just among celebrities, but also for non-celebrity women.

Elizabeth Taylor, Sun in Shatabhisha, was also a major target for paparazzi. George Hamilton once remarked:

"I remember when the word 'paparazzi' came along, and it just meant a bunch of guys who were all photographers looking for Elizabeth Taylor. Desperately looking for Elizabeth Taylor! And that was the beginning of paparazzi. They were not going for glamour anymore. They were going for the destruction of glamour."

[voxslays]

ALASTOR MASTERLIST

Whiskey and Wine | When a hyena-like sinner tries to hit on you—completely ignoring your rejections to his advances—Alastor is there to save the day.

Night Time Shenanigans | Spending your evening with Alastor and winding down with him by having a friendly banter.

“The leaves are changing!” | You and Alastor notice the vibrant colors of the now orange and red leaves on the trees.

Making Caramel Apples | On a crisp fall afternoon, you spend your day with Alastor, making caramel apples in the hotel kitchen.

Apple Pies | Alastor helps you with one of Charlie’s Halloween themed activities: baking an apple pie.

Gift-Giving | The reader gifts Alastor a simple thirties era radio for the holidays—a radio which ends up meaning more than they could ever imagine.

Dating Alastor Headcannons | What I think dating the infamous radio demon would be like. (Kinda old).

Five Stages of Grief Headcannons | Various Hazbin Men and the stages of grief they will be stuck in.

Adam and Alastor fighting over the Reader | Alastor and Adam fighting each other for the readers affections.

Hazbin Men as Dads | How the Hazbin Men would raise their children.

Mistletoe | In which; you kiss him under the mistletoe.

Secret Santa | What you get him for Charlie’s secret Santa.

Hazbin on Ice | What it would be like to go Ice skating with the Radio Demon.

Snowball Fight | How Alastor would react to you throwing a snowball an and getting into a snowball fight with him.

Polyandry | What it would be like to be in a poly relationship with radiotstatic and voxval (separately).

Alastor Altruist | How Alastor would react to holding his dying s/o in his arms.

Titanic! Reader | What Alastor would be like with a reader who died on titanic.

My Resolution is You | What spending the new year with them would be like.

Sly Fox | Alastor with a Fennec Fox!Reader

Radio Booth Nuisance | You decide to break one of the Radio Demon’s rules and get punished accordingly….

Full Moon | Alastor is hiding his seasonal rut cycle from everyone in the hotel, including you. Unfortunately, it isn’t very long until you find out what he’s been hiding from you.

Such a Tease | How Alastor would react if you walked in naked.

Overcast Morning | On a cold fall morning, Alastor makes love to you to keep you warm and toasty.

Alastor NSFW Alphabet | smutty NSFW headcannons for your favorite radio host and deer demon.

Rut Season | You offer to help Alastor with his seasonal rut.

Your Perfume | Alastor is scarily attracted to your perfume, and will do whatever it takes to get his fill of it.

Caught Red-Handed | Getting caught in the moment with the Radio Demon.

Little Flirt | When reader flirts a little too hard and pays the price…

Mon Chéri | While bored at an overlord meeting you decide to tease your husband instead of paying attention.

THE ONE [DISCONTINUED]

⤷ Alastor and Reader are forced into an arranged marriage in their early twenties—forced to live a lie while in public—but after a scandalous night together, they slowly start to care for eachother as they learn more about the other…or do they? (18+)

Nav. One Two Three Four

THE NIGHT I… [COMPLETED]

⤷ In an unfortunate turn of events, you find out your loving, charming, and charismatic husband is the famed ‘bayou butcher’, but before you can act, it’s already too late… (18+)

The night I lost you The night I found you

YANDERE ALASTOR [COMPLETED]

⤷ You and Alastor have been friends for a year, having built a strong connection quite quickly. One fateful afternoon, Alastor asks you to accompany him on one of his errands, where he spills his darkest secret…and some blood.

For a Fortnight The red means I love you~!

[naomikozura]

Love of My Life: Part 2

Heian Era! True Form! Ryomen Sukuna x Sorcerer!Fem!Reader

A/N: I want to put an actual paragraph warning in here. Remember this is Sukuna’s story during the Heian Era, using bits and pieces from what I've researched on JJK and him during this era.

This chapter shows INTENSE GRUESOME SCENES including torture, psychological torture, abuse, massacres, and burning buildings. This is a DARK THEME story, it is meant as a work of FICTION and its 18+ ONLY MDNI!!!!

Warnings: strong language, violence, mention of mass murder, angst, generational trauma, complicated family dynamics, family abuse, murder, emotional turmoil and abuse, manipulation, sadistic tendencies, corruption of power, dark themes, burning down villages, murder, masochistic tendencies, sadistic behavior, decapitation, prostitution, sex scenes (in a brothel), torture, psychological torture, (lmk if I missed any!)

WC: 10.2K Series Masterlist

Part 1 || Part 3

The night was quiet, the aftereffects of your fight still lingering in the air. You hadn’t spoken to them for the rest of the evening, letting yourself sit with the hurt of your father’s words.  Your eyes were red, puffy from the silent tears you shed in the past hour. 

Defective. Wasted potential. Disgrace. 

Why has this been your life? Why were you born into one of the Four? Did you live a cruel existence in a past life, were you paying for the sins of your ancestors? Your father despised you being his daughter, hated that his claim was weakened because you were a daughter instead of a son, that you would never be as powerful as the sons of the other Families. You did everything to bring honor to your family. You studied, you trained, you focused on your inherited technique, you brought peace between villages with your kindness and political intelligence, you tried for the better part of your life to mold yourself into what your father wanted. You obeyed his demands, agreed to his greedy power tactics, even believed you were okay marrying Zetsubou  Zen’in when deep down you didn’t want to. You were more than just a pawn in his game, more than means to an end, more than just something to solidify your family name in the realm and create a greater power. 

Little did he know he was slowly pushing you to your brink. You believed you controlled yourself well, keeping composed in even the worst of situations but your composure slowly started to crumble with every new task he had for you. The pressure slowly built up and you couldn’t take it anymore, you didn’t want to sell your life away just for someone else to gain all the power. 

What a cruel life you were given. 

“Y/n”, you felt your heart skip a beat, a low rumble vibrating through you as your bones became hyper aware of who called your name. You turned around, your eyes meeting his deep red ones as he stood in your bedroom. You didn’t even begin to wonder how he got in, he was a gifted sorcerer, he could do anything.

“Ryo..”, you called his given name, not remembering when you had started but when he showed no distaste in your doing so, you continued to call him by name. 

“Come.”, it was all he needed to say as you nodded, slipping on your night robe and your shoes before following him through the back door of your home. You stayed glued to his side as he led you through the woods, suddenly realizing he was using his technique to hide both your cursed energy. He’d put a veil over the both of you to camouflage from any scouts patrolling the woods. 

Silence fell over the both of you, walking for about a half hour before reaching the end of the woods, a blue lake illuminated by the moon at the bottom of a slight hill. The water was bright, the moon reflecting beautifully to light up the water in a serene and breathtaking way. 

“The ground here is loose.”, he said blankly before grabbing you, picking you up in his arms as you sank into him, letting your head rest in the curve between his jaw and shoulder. He had a musk to him, a woodsy smell that brought comfort over you and let you relax into his touch. 

You wondered if you were the first person he’d touched like this? Deep down you knew he’d probably indulge in the company of concubines, he was a man with needs and one many couldn’t refuse. You were certain many of the women would jump at an opportunity to have the King of Curses in their bed. A sting grew in your chest at the thought. 

Once he’d reached the bottom, he set you down on the grass, your body small in comparison to his. He stared at you with curious eyes, the dichotomy of your existence in contrast with his was a wonder to him. He was grueling, sadistic, had the body that would make anyone recoil on sight, and held no remorse in his actions towards others. Meanwhile, you were kind, intimate, beautiful, and gifted. You had three of the most powerful names in this era asking for your hand in marriage, every man in surrounding towns having heard of the L/n daughter who was the heir to the L/n bloodline and being gifted with the Eye of Aurora. He knew your ability was powerful, strong enough to possibly even go head to head with him once you’d reached its full potential. Deep down he already knew you’d be considered one of the strongest sorcerer’s in the Heian era once you reached your full ability. 

He hadn’t come to terms with his reasoning for letting you live, for helping you, for feeling intense amounts of cursed energy at your distress. He wasn’t a man of emotion nor empathy. He saw emotion as a weakness, mundane, meaningless. He hated weak humans, despised the sight of overly emotional lackeys and often killed them on sight or elongated their emotional distress with mental torture. Emotion was something he disregarded and found useless, and yet it was the very thing that kept him from even thinking of bringing harm onto you. 

Was this punishment for his track record of horrific slayings? Were you sent by some being to punish him with your existence?

“Why are we here?”, your red eyes met his gaze, something in his chest burning at the sight of your defeated stare. He could tell you’d been crying, he felt your distress from across the realm and it burned him alive. He’d almost crossed across the entire woods just to show at your home and end your father’s life for laying a hand on you. 

“Your father.”, he started roughly. “He’s a pathetic excuse of a man, an insolent waste of human flesh.”

Your tired eyes widened at the hatred dripping from his lips, the words filled with venom as his eyes darkened. You’d heard about his anger and wrath among the scribes in your village, it was enough to wipe out an entire population and he’d done it multiple times before. You knew if he truly wanted to, he could end your father’s life with no hesitation.

You looked down at the water, watching as the water moved and the ripples distorted the moon, your chest hurting as it contracted. “He…”, you choked on your words, the break in your voice creating a rise of energy in him. “He thinks I’m defective, a disgrace to our family.”

His eyes looked over at you, the burning in his chest growing larger. 

“He threatened to get the elders from the Zen’in clan to exorcize my ability and… let me die without our ancestral guides”

He wasn’t much for believing in spiritual practices, but you’d grown up believing you needed your ancestors to guide you to the next life. it was a common belief within the families especially when you came face to face with cursed spirits constantly. They’d always been exorcized and seeing them cry out as you did knowing they’d just die, you wanted to believe there was a place where your soul could rest easy in the after. 

You felt a whirl of his cursed energy, feeling the rage boiling inside of him. A part of you feared what could happen to your father if Sukuna really wanted to get rid of him, but another sadistic, cruel part of you that you’d never encountered before told you that your father deserved whatever he had coming to him. After years of his grueling expectations, you started to hate your father for his greedy and selfish ways. You knew deep down in the hidden depths of your heart that you couldn’t bring yourself to feel remorse if he died. 

The exorcism of cursed energy was painful, you could easily say that due to how spirits cried when they would get absorbed. The exorcism of an inherited special ability was far worse. You’d heard stories of Yu L/n. He’d been exorcized of the Eye of Aurora and executed after he’d wiped out an entire village because he couldn’t control his technique. It was a horror story, a gruesome tale, it scared you to no end at the possibility that the same could happen to you. An exorcism of a special technique meant death. It was the most grueling way to torture and kill someone, leaving them alive meant they’d be a shell of a human, struggling and living at a lesser quality of life. No humane person would allow someone to live in such agony. Inherited techniques were bonded to the inheritors soul, binding together to make the energy and the human soul one for whatever lifespan the sorcerer had. It was the reason manipulation and control was easy for those who inherited special abilities, because it was connected to them in every way down to the genetic makeup of their bodies. 

You stood next to him in silence, your body numb of emotion as you recounted everything your father had said to you. Were you really wasted potential? Were you really defective? 

“I’ll kill him.”, his voice vibrated, your eyes staring at him while he focused on the body of water in front of the both of you. “I’ll make him suffer, perhaps exorcize his cursed energy to give him a taste of his own ignorance”

“Ryo, please.”, your soft voice sent a wave of warmth through his body. “I don’t want unnecessary bloodshed.”

He realized then why the realm considered you the Princess of Peace. You wanted to fight for your rights to life, fight for what was fair to the realm without bloodshed. Every gathering you’d been to had always swayed in your favor and he knew deep down it wasn’t because of your family name. You were just logical and intelligent to showcase why your outlook was necessary in the development of the Jujutsu world. You truly believed deep down there would be ways to save jujutsu sorcerers and regular humans without having to create an all out war. 

A part of him whirled in anger, another not understanding your stance. He disregarded human emotion at all costs, thought it to be weak, pathetic, unbeneficial, and a waste of energy. When he looked at the way people reacted first instead of thinking it made him recoil in disgust, when he’d see sobbing mothers or angry fathers at the villages he’d consumed he laughed, feeding off their distress and growing in power. He thrived off the negative emotion, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care for anything except gaining his right to the realm. He believed he was the pinnacle of jujutsu sorcery and everyone else was simply a lackey and weak. 

He’d consider you one of them had you been anyone else, but there was something about you that made him hold you at a higher regard. You held every characteristic he despised of humans, of lesser sorcerers and yet he couldn’t bring himself to put you in the same category as them. It was like you had all immunity from his hatred, his wrath, his disgust. He didn’t know why you were different from the rest, he just knew you were and he couldn’t bring himself to figure out why. He didn’t want to. 

“What do you suggest I do then? Sit around and feel your energy get more distressed every time he talks to you like you’re worth nothing?”

For some reason, his confession of feeling your distress made your heart skip a beat. You knew he could feel all the energy around him, the powerful, the weak, the unstable, the murderous, and he cared most about yours. He felt your distress and it made him angry. Something about that undeniable truth made you feel warm inside. 

“You know what they tell you is true.”, he said, void of emotion. “I’ve killed hundreds of people, consumed their energy and left them to rot in the ground.”

Why was he saying this?

“I know.”

“I have no remorse, no morality, no human left in me”

“I know.”

It was all you could say, you couldn’t deny the painstaking truth. You knew he was immoral, dangerous, a murderer, you knew and still you ignored it. 

“So why do you choose to stay?”, he bit out. He’d never wanted nor cared about the opinion of anyone but he wanted yours. Why after the past two months did you choose to keep his company? Why after two months did you find yourself enamored with him? 

“Because you don’t care”, you confessed. “You don’t care about what others think, or what they say. You’re free to pass through every inch of this realm without any regard to what anyone has to say or what they think. In the end, you know you’re stronger, you go through life knowing your worth and position and… If I stay around you long enough maybe I’ll learn not to care either.”

Silence. 

He had no words to say as he listened to your voice grow slightly louder. “I want to leave, I don’t want to be the heir to my family’s claim, I don’t want to be held to this impossible standard that my family has for me. I just wish I could’ve been born just a regular human being. I might’ve been weak, ignorant, and blindsided but I would be free of the torment of my family’s expectation of me. I would be nobody and that would be enough.” 

That was just it. You could never be a nobody. You were forced into this life, born into a family of inherited techniques and forced to bring honor to your family no matter the cost. You were shackled to your prison for eternity and with no way out, you accepted the consequences of your position. 

To him though, it was different. You could never be a nobody. Not when he saw you as everything that brought out a sliver of humanity from his black soul. He saw you as everything everywhere all at once. You were kindness and empathy, strength and resilience, he felt it in the energy he absorbed and saw it in the woods he wandered through. He felt your presence in every fiber of his being and he hated it. You consumed him in a way not even the strongest in this realm could even graze him in. 

“He wants me to stop training in the fields and stay in the inner territory. He’s having the elders oversee my training.”, your mouth twitched slightly. “In the end, I'm still forced to develop my domain for him.”

A surge of annoyance whirled inside of him, forcing it back down in order to remain in control of his veil. He could be annoyed at the mundane anger of your father, but he wouldn’t put you at risk of being seen with him just because he wanted to rip your father into shreds. His thoughts seemed normal to him, but he knew if you’d heard his tactic of gaining your freedom you’d surely feel disgusted by him. 

“We should go back.”, you whispered, another tear streaming down your cheek. You looked down as you swallowed a sob, the feeling of his hand wiping the tear away warming your skin. You leaned into his hand, your lachrymose eyes meeting him in a gentle gaze. 

He stayed silent, grabbing your hand as he led you back through the woods and to your home. Your focus was on your intertwined hands, wondering if he’d ever let someone else touch him like this before. Has he ever been so gentle with others or were you the only exception to this? 

When you arrived, you lingered outside for a moment, the silence occupying the space while you tried to find the right words for him. You couldn’t quite place how you felt, but you felt a pull towards him, an uncontrollable feeling that you wanted to get off your chest. 

“Thank you”, was all you could say. He hummed in response before grabbing your hand, his skin rough and his touch gentle. You smiled through your hurt, a piece of your heart breaking at the fact that your freedom to roam had been stolen from you. A piece of you hurt even more than you couldn’t see him anymore. 

You gave him one last smile before walking away, your hand still in his grasp as it slowly untangled itself from his hood and you walked inside your home. After you’d reached your bedroom, you felt the veil of his cursed energy release and his presence disappear. 

Another single tear falling down your cheek while the pain in your chest overcame you, forcing you into a slumber just to escape from the agony. 

Over the past few days, Sukuna came to visit you in your home, concealing his energy and yours in the process in order to keep you from being sensed by others in your family clan. After so much time, he created a body double of you to take your place in bed so that you’d feel more comfortable leaving your room empty in the middle of the night. 

The nights were the only time you had with him now since your training was supervised by the elders, leaving you little room to actually train to create a domain and instead your time was consumed with training your ability. Every night you spent with him made your heart warm, everything about him made you feel whole, made you feel seen. It wasn’t often he’d speak fondly of anything, but he’d express himself to you in a way he’d never let anyone else hear. He preferred hearing you talk, preferred hearing your dreams of a future and a life that wasn’t surrounded by inheritance and power. He’d often disagreed, believing that power was the best thing in any lifetime that someone could obtain, but he found himself understanding your stance more and more every night. 

The two of you would spend every night with each other, staying within reach of your home in case you needed to return quickly, visiting the lake every night. You didn’t know at what point you started to return to his home with him, but you had found yourself in his bed more times than not. You would spend all night wrapped in his arms, his gentle touch on your skin, his fingers running through your h/c hair, breathing you in as you slept in his hold. 

He’d never expected a single thing from you. Your relationship with him was never carnal, he’d never let it get to that point because to him, he didn’t care for physical release anymore. 

Before you, he’d spend the better parts of his nights in brothels, a different concubine each night and drunk on wine and letting himself dip into his pool of women whenever he wanted. A harem waiting to jump into his bed at the snap of his fingers and yet, when you came around it was like all carnal desire evaporated from his being. His sudden disappearance from the brothels left even the concubines in shock, wondering where he’d gone off to not knowing of his infatuation with the L/n heir. 

Your emotional and mental capacity exceeded his beliefs and he found himself going against everything he once swore his life on, finding himself seeing you in a different light in comparison to every other living being. He respected you on a godly level, a level he never regarded anyone else in. You saw the world through a lens of profound clarity and grace, something he’d never wasted time on, something that made you connected to those beneath you but also made you so profoundly unique. You had embedded yourself so deeply into his being that even those around him started to notice the shift within the King of Curses. He found himself in awe of your perspective, mesmerized by the way your heart navigated through everything. 

He felt utterly pathetic. 

But you were content with him in every way. Where you held empathy and grace in your heart, he held control and selfishness. You were gentle and kind, he was merciless and heartless. Your eyes looked at the world with curiosity and he saw it as a kingdom to overtake, a kingdom where he would ultimately rule. A kingdom where he wanted you to serve next to him. To be his till his heart stopped beating and even beyond that.

You were a dichotomous pairing: heaven and hell. 

Still, you felt content when you laid in his arms at night. You felt secure laying in his bed, sleeping next to him, existing in the same space he occupied, looking into his deep red eyes that the rest of the realm were too scared to look into. You loved the way he touched you, his hand gentle as it pushed your hair back while you laid next to him. You loved the way he held you while you breathed against his chest at night before inevitably having to return home before the sunrise. 

That same morning you had returned home, you were preparing for a bath, undressing as you heard the group of maids outside the room. 

“You don’t think he will have heirs, do you?”, one of them asked in a whisper. 

“Someone like him has to have heirs. He wants to rule an empire, surely he’ll find a way to get them.”

“I wouldn’t mind giving him some.”, the final one spoke, making your ears ring in shock as she continued. “Have you seen him? He has to have a harem of women waiting to get into bed with him, not to mention he looks like he would be completely wild in bed.”

You felt your gut turn inside of you. 

“I wouldn’t mind jumping in bed with him, even if it is only once. Just to know what it’s like to get fucked by a real man.”, the maid laughed as their voices disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing in your shock as you let her words sink into your bones. 

You felt… insignificant. Insufficient. Inadequate. 

Later that night when he came for you, a wave of silence covered the both of you. You knew he could feel your energy, the doubt bubbling inside of you as you moved through the woods. Once you’d reached his home, you stood in the middle of the room, waiting for him to break the silence. 

He turned to meet your gaze, the emotion glossing over your eyes as he moved towards you. His hand reached up, pushing your loose strands of hair behind your ear as he caressed your cheek. 

“What’s wrong?”, he breathed. 

“Why?’, your voice shook, leaving him questioning why you were like this tonight. “Why me?”

He stood in silence, waiting for you to continue, knowing you weren’t done with the amount of energy he felt radiating off of you. 

“Why me, Sukuna? You could have anyone, any woman you wanted, hell all the women you wanted. I know you’re far from being a saint, and I accepted that fact a long time ago because I couldn’t care less about who you’d been with before me. I don’t care about your past or how many women you’ve been with… I just need to know.”, you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “You have so many women, so many concubines at your fingertips. I’m sure you’ve slept with some of them in the past few months, hell maybe even weeks. So, why?”, your voice broke. “Why me?”

Were you not good enough? Sufficient? Worthy?

His silence ate at you, making your gut fill with dread as he stared at you with a blank stare. You could guess that he’d probably taunt you, play with your feelings before delivering his ultimate blow. You wanted to believe that the past few weeks meant something to him in the same way they meant everything to you. You wanted to be enough for someone. Enough for him. 

When his voice broke the silence, you felt your eyes gloss over with tears again.

“I haven’t been with another woman since I met you.”, his voice held the truth, reaching up to cup your cheek.  “Since the first time I saw you, I stopped visiting brothels or entertaining the thoughts of other women.”

A shock sank into your bones at his confession. His eyes bore into yours with truth, with honesty. What he wanted to know was how these thoughts even entered your mind. 

“Who put these thoughts into your mind?”, he asked in a deep growl. 

You hesitated, swallowing the lump in your throat. “One of our maids… She..”

He let out a quiet shush, grabbing your face with both his hands as his thumb grazed over your lips, “You…”, his eyes darkening with what you could only place as lust and possessiveness, “are the only woman in this life and the next, the only woman in this realm and the hundreds of others that I desire.”

And hell did he want you. He wanted every part of you. heart, body, and soul. Down to the simple way your eyes looked at him to the way your cursed energy spiraled into immense power when fighting cursed spirits. He wanted every strand of hair, every piece of your soul, every inch of skin, every minute of your time. He wanted you to consume him in every way and he couldn’t care less about the gravity of your effect on him. If you didn’t exist to be with him, he didn’t want to exist either. He saw himself as the pinnacle of jujutsu sorcery, the king of this realm, and he wanted you to be the one and only thing that could bring him to his knees. If he was the most powerful sorcerer in the existence of humanity and jujutsu, then you were far stronger. You brought the King of Curses to his knees and he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted. He wanted you to have power over him, it meant you belonged to him in every way that mattered. He'd burn the world down if you asked, kill an entire nation to prove his undying loyalty to you, he’d stop his spread of cursed energy to know a moment of peace with you. 

He didn’t know when he’d become so wrapped up in you, but it was too late for him by the time he realized the hold you had over him. 

He was yours with the entirety of his being, with the intensity of his soul, and the remainder of his existence in this life and continue to let you consume him in every lifetime after this one. 

His soul called your name in a way he’d never experienced in his entire life. For a man who didn’t believe in indulging in mundane emotions, he indulged in you and that’s all he needed. 

Your lip quivered, a sob choked out of your lips as you looked at him in a deep admiration. You lifted your hands to wrap around his wrists, sinking into his touch as you whispered to him. 

“I want to see you, Ryo.”, your hand on his face, your gentle lachrymose eyes meeting his hardened ones. “I want to see the real you.”

He would’ve denied the request had you been anyone else, but he was at your mercy, allowing his body to morph into his true being. The very form that left the realm fearing his presence, left them in agony from the overwhelming rush of cursed energy. His true form alone was enough to make an entire nation buckle under his presence. It was gruesome, wicked, twisted, ugly, and macabre. It was something so terrifying they’d used it in stories to children for them to be good for their parents. His true form was something heard about across all of the realm and left nations training for years in hopes to one day kill the King of Curses. And despite all of that wickedness, gruesomeness, and fear, you looked up at him with gentle eyes. 

He showed his true form to you, waiting for the recoil of disgust, the shock of horror and yet none of it came. You looked at him with the same gentleness you had for anyone else in this realm. He had a deformed stomach, four arms, multiple sets of eyes and a plate on his face, teeth sharp like daggers, and body covered in scars and marked in black ink. 

Yet, the only thing that flooded your eyes was admiration. 

Why weren’t you disgusted by him?

Why weren’t you running in fear?

Bowing at his feet?

Why?

“Why do you hide your true form around me?”, you cocked your head slightly. “Everyone in the other families always say you show your true form to add to your dominance over the realm, yet you disfigure your body and make it different when I’m with you… Why?”

Who created you in such a way that you empathize with him instead of cursing him to hell? 

Princess of Peace. 

“Does it bother you?”

“I just don’t see why you have to hide it. You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

You couldn’t explain the connection to him. 

Was it an invisible string? 

Fated soulmates? 

You didn’t know what it was that his form didn’t frighten you or leave you in shock. You welcomed every being with open arms, perhaps it was your special ability to see cursed energy and gauge its threat to you. His energy never reached levels of threat when he was near you. You’d seen it around other sorcerers and the level grew astronomically. It was almost too much to wrap your mind around and yet when you saw it in the solace of his bedroom, it never pushed you away. 

Inside these walls, no cursed energy existed to harm you. In fact, it was the complete opposite. His cursed energy manifested in a protective veil, ensuring you were guarded completely when you were with him. 

You felt every question swirl in your mind, trying to pinpoint why he had you feeling so alive. 

Was it the desire to leave your family out of spite?

The desire to know what being unhinged was?

The desire to not live within the bounds of the jujutsu code and live freely?

You couldn’t quite place it but you felt envious of his freedom and lack of care. You were always being watched, always monitored, the only moments of peace and freedom you got were when he would sneak you out of your home at night.

You grabbed one of his hands, rubbing soft fingers on the back of it and meeting his gaze. You’d grown to admire the depth of his gaze, the way they watched you with a calm intensity. You have laced his hand on your cheek, his massive palm warming your skin as you sank into him. 

His body lowered to your height, bending over as he brought you closer to his chest while your heart pounded inside of your own. You knew he could feel your infatuation, your intrigue, your heart racing inside you. Your gentle eyes met his darkened ones, the closest thing to desire that he could get to while holding you. You felt his lips meet yours, the roughness of his mouth as he claimed you as his. You melted into him, your hands on his chest as a pair of his landed on your waist and the other held your face, deepening the kiss. 

He lifted your body, placing your frame on his lap as he laid against the headboard of his bed. You felt the burning of his skin as his grip tightened on your waist. Your skin ignited under his touch, running a hand through his hair which caused him to groan against your mouth. You could listen to him all day, forever. 

If your father or the realm saw you right now, what would they say? What would they think? Would they accuse Sukuna of brainwashing you? Imprisoning you? Did you need saving? 

No. 

You didn’t need saving; you were far beyond it for anyone to consider it. You were too far gone in him and you didn’t want to turn back. His muscular arms picked you up, laying you on your back against the sheets as his overwhelming form covered yours. You were tiny in comparison to him, your hair splayed out in a halo as his eyes stayed focused on you. A hand brushed your stray hairs back, rubbing small circles against your temple. 

You focused on his body, admiring every muscle, every ripple of skin, every scar, every black marking. You admired his form regardless of the fact that most would consider him a devil. It never occurred to you in any sense. 

An angel entrapped by a demon, an angel falling in love with the devil, an angel stolen from heaven and dragged to hell. 

You didn’t give a damn anymore. You wanted him, needed him like you needed oxygen. He helped you feel free, helped you escape the confines of your familial name, helped you feel worthy. He helped you see life in a new light, in every way that you couldn’t before because of your father’s controlling ignorance. You didn’t care about the opinions of the village or the families, deep down they were only looking out for themselves even if everyone else denied it. 

The King of Curses completely ruined you: the Princess of Peace. The two of you were a dichotomous pairing, chaos and peace, yet still found balance in each other. It was the balance of life and existence and the both of you knew exactly how the collision would end: one of you would gain everything and the other would lose it all. But neither of you would have anticipated the depth of your connection, the intensity in which he consumed you and you him. You no longer cared about the consequences of being with him. Your father could disown you, exile you, have the entire village and the other families against you, but as long as Ryomen was at your side you didn’t care. 

His rough lips made their way down your neck, kissing and licking every inch of your skin as your hands held into his arms. The sound of your muffled cries made him feral, making his instinct and possessiveness kick into overdrive. He needed to feel you, needed to taste you, to breathe you in and have you take over all his senses. 

Your hands gripped his arms, your toes curling against the bed sheets as he continued to kiss down your neck and swirling his tongue around the delicate skin. You tasted like a heaven he never believed in, made him feel euphoric in ways beyond comprehension. 

Your body was on fire at his touch, you wanted more. More of his touch, his kisses, his groans, his everything. You just wanted more of him. 

You wanted to give yourself to him in everyway you could. He knew you were still a virgin, he wanted to be the one to wreck you, to be the only one to know your body so intimately, wanted to be the only man you’d ever end up with. His hands gripped your hips as you felt his buck slightly against you, your moans filling his mouth as he kissed you sloppily. 

He forced himself to stop, gaining a small whimper from you. His eyes met yours, his voice deep but low as he pressed his lips against yours once more. 

“Not like this.”, he muttered, his tone vibrating in every bone in your body. 

You knew what he meant with just a simple phrase, Your body relaxing against the bed, letting him collapse next to you as he wrapped you into his arms. You soaked in his warmth, letting your body be held by him as you fell into a slumber. 

This was all you could ever ask for. 

It was all you wanted.

One Week Later 

You woke up just before the sunrise, your body sitting up as the bed sheets fell from your form. You looked next to you, seeing Sukuna in his sleep while his arms were lazily thrown over your torso. Another night with him in peace left you feeling content, feeling a soreness overtake your body from the training you’d done with him last night. You felt his arms tighten, your body almost bare against him only wearing one of his oversized wool shirts. 

You pushed yourself out of his embrace, swinging your legs off the bed and looking out the window. You still had time to get home before everyone woke up, though you needed to head home soon. You felt his energy shift as he woke, raising a hand while still laying in the sheets and looking at you while caressing your cheek. 

“I have to get home.”, you whispered as you melted into him. He grunted in response before sitting up and cracking his neck to relieve the pressure he’d gotten overnight. You follow his as he stands, letting him help dress you in your clothing as you felt his lips along the side of your neck. 

Both of you walked out of his home, walking through the woods until you reached your room, his veil keeping you hidden and camouflaged both of your energies. You gave him a final kiss, smiling at him before he turned and left, leaving you alone in your room. 

During mid day, the sun held its highest position and the food was being prepared for lunch, you heard mention from your father that the Zen’in would be joining your family for lunch. 

Everything was fine at first, everyone coexisting together, talking about family matters and everything normal, atleast it seemed normal at first. 

You looked up to see Zetsubou Zen’in walk in the door, one of the maids accompanying him to the table as she bowed and walked back to her post at the front door. He was the heir to the Zen’in clan. A remarkably talented sorcerer with the gift of the Ten Shadows technique. Everyone was sure he would soon manifest the shikigami Mohoraga, making him the first to manifest it since the family’s establishment to the realm. 

“Now that everyone is here, there is some news we must share.”, your father spoke as he stood, watching as Zetsubou’s father also rose to stand next to his son. Everyone else remained seated, you included as you cocked your head in confusion. 

“Y/n, come stand.”, your father motioned towards you, your gut churning in suspicion before you stood next to him. You watched your father before turning to Zetsubou and his father, his dark eyes staring into your e/c ones. 

“We are to celebrate the new union, the meshing of two family names into one great clan.”, your father spoke, your mother and the Zen’in wife staring in silence. Even the maids seemed to be on edge of what your father was saying. “Zetsubou, Your father and I have agreed in accepting the conditions of betrothal that you both have given to our family.”

Betrothal?

“Y/n, you and Zetsubou will meet in union in two weeks' time. Two Clans becoming one in matrimony.”, your father smiled as he shook hands with the Zen’in leader, smiling at Zetsubou. 

You stood in silence, your energy growing grimm at the declaration your father just made. Your body overwhelmed in shock, your heart racing in your chest, your mind swirling with a million different possibilities. The chatter around you blurred into a jumbled mess, nothing comprehensive due to your anger radiating from your body. 

“I look forward to getting closer to you through our marriage, Y/n.”, Zetsubou smiled at you, your eyes staring at him mindlessly. “Y/n?”

“I’m not marrying you.”, you said silently, almost inaudibly but you knew he’d heard you since you saw Zetsubou’s eyes darken. 

“What?”, his voice came out clipped, sharp. Dangerous. 

“I am not marrying you.”, you repeated, your eyes void of any emotion as you held 

“Y/n!”, your mother let out a warning call, but you ignored her. You didn’t care about anything other than making it entirely clear that you were not going to be wed to the Zen’in Clan. “Forgive us, she doesn’t realize what she’s saying.”

“I know what I’m saying. I am not marrying you, Zetsubou. Not even if you held my life at sword's edge.”

You suddenly felt the energy that radiated off of your father, his anger growing tenfold as he glared at you with intense disappointment and resentment. Your father already hated you, and already felt disgraced by your presence. Why not give him another reason to see you as less than good enough. 

“I think there needs to be some time to process our agreement. Surely we can come to a suitable agreement that will benefit both of our clans.”, your father forced out, his voice clipped. “Our maids will clean up, let me walk you out.”

You watched as both the Zen’in leader and your father walked out, your eyes glancing back at Zetsubou, holding his glare before he scoffed and followed behind his father. You heard the lowered voice of Zetsubou’s father, his voice full of annoyance. 

“Get your daughter under control or else we will take care of her for you.”, and with that, the Zen’ins left your home. You stared blankly as your father walked back into the room, his energy radiating in waves like a tsunami. He walked up to you, your blank stare meeting his eyes as you felt your head snap to the side, the sting burning your cheek as he snarled at you. 

“You are a disgrace!”, he screamed, your mother gasping at his sudden burst. “How dare you embarrass our family name in front of the Zen’ins!”

You raised your head, looking at the pure fury displayed in his eyes, still not saying a single word as he continued to berate you. 

“Why can’t you just do your duty and save yourself the embarrassment. Save our family the dishonor of having you as its heir.”, he bit out, each word dripping with acid. “You’re to marry Zetsubou Zen’in in two weeks' time. For once in your pathetic life, do something honorable for this family.”. He left the room, your mother following closely behind as the maids started to clean the dining room. 

And still, you stood in the middle of the room with no emotion behind your eyes, just the sting of your cheek and the emptiness in your chest at your father’s words. Your life, your future, your dreams, it all was reduced to being the wife of a man you did not love. A man you did not care for and despised. 

You were reduced to nothing. 

The night was silent, the wind howled softly in the background causing the trees to move, leaving nothing but a tranquil aura in the air. You stared blankly at the wall as you laid against Sukuna’s skin, the warmth flooding your body as you felt his arms wrap around you. You felt the growing pressure in your chest, an unavoidable truth you couldn’t keep from him anymore. 

“Kuna…”, you whispered gently. HIs body moved, looking at you as his eyes fell on your heartbroken form. “I..”, you choked. 

How could you possibly tell him this?

“What is it?”, his voice was deep yet soft, the words ringing in your ears. 

“I… My father..”, you sucked in a shaky breath. “He arranged for me to marry Zetsubou Zen’in.”

“He arranged for you to marry Zetsubou Zenin.” he repeated back to you, the lingering darkness hanging in his tone. 

“He says it’ll be good for our families. That I have a responsibility as heir, as does Zetsubou, to continue our bloodline and make our abilities stronger.”

“Do you love him?”, the question made your blood run cold, even kicked you in the gut, but you knew why he asked. You could read in between the lines and hear the unanswered question he truly wanted to ask. 

“No.”

A hum was all that escaped him, the silence casting over the both of you causing a small blanket of tension to rise. 

“I can kill them.”, he replied finally. “I can give them a reason to call off that sham marriage.”

He could do it easily, there was no question about it, the only thing keeping him from carrying out his plan was his loyalty to you. He wouldn’t do something you asked him to not do. You had that power over him to stop him from doing anything. You heard the hidden meaning in his words. You weren’t ignorant or naive. You knew who he was and what he was capable of and yet, you lay in his arms falling deeper into what he was, or rather, who he was with you. 

“I don’t want bloodshed. Besides..”, you sank into your sorrow again. “I don’t think there truly is a way out of this.”

“Do you really believe they could possibly keep me away from you?”, he asked in a serious, deep tone, his question full of every emotion he’d never said out loud. He didn’t know what kindness was, what admiration looks like or what love felt like but to him… you were the closest thing to that that he’d ever felt and seen in all his life. 

You brought out what little humanity he had in him, he showed it only for you. the tiniest sliver reserved for you but disappeared when it came to anyone else. You were the only one who deserved that small minuscule part of him. He had little regard for human life, he believed himself above all beings all gifted, cursed, and boring. 

Then there was you. 

He didn’t believe himself above you in any regard. 

In every way you were his equal and he’d burn the world to ash to prove it to you. 

“I can’t deny them… My father… he already hates me.”, you muttered against his skin. Ryomen slowly sat up, his arms helping you move with him as he brushed your hair back, tucking a strand behind your ear and letting his hand rest against your cheek. Your eyes glossed over, a hurt in your heart flooding every vein in your body. You didn’t want to be forced into a life you had no interest in, why did this have to be your life’s path? 

You wish you could just speak to whatever greater being ruled over your world and beg them to change the prophecy known as your life. Beg for a time where you didn’t exist within the confines of your familial name, your duty to pass your legacy through your bloodline, your fear of disgracing your family, who could ever change the end result for you? 

“I’ll find a way.”, he whispered before leaning towards you, pulling your lips against his as he let all of his emotion pour into the kiss as the tears fell down your cheeks. He was gentle even in his destructive touch, he let himself completely off guard with you. Your lips moved gently against his, soft and delicate, making his other hands wrapped around your waist as he kissed you deeply. You felt weak at his touch, your heart openly his without regret or second thoughts. 

“Ryo..”, you whispered, your voice shaky as he kissed you again, this time more possessive and full of desire. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, pulling it before letting it go as it swelled. 

You let yourself sink into him, his arms wrapping around you in a secure embrace. You fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, it was even and strong, proof of the life inside of him. 

He watched you carefully, his gut churning in a whirlwind of emotion and suppressed energy. He needed an outlet and soon, he’d spent the better part of the past month with you in his embrace and presence. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone so long without releasing his cursed energy, it was starting to make him twitch at all the pent up power he had. He’d waited until you fell asleep in his arms before lowering you into the sheets, your body laying perfectly in his bed as he covered you with the blanket. He pushed the curtain away, closing it as his eyes lingered on your body, the blanket laying over you as he moved out of the room. 

He found himself wandering through the woods late, moving to the outskirts of the village territories and making his way deeper to territory he knew a little too well. He sensed an energy that stood out to him, his focus moving towards the waves radiating towards him until he reached his location. His veil did good in keeping him hidden, but he released a small wave of energy to send a flood of chills through every being in town within his proximity. His body moved through the homes, the worn down tavern, and the trader booths until he found exactly what he was looking for so late in the night. 

The sound of moans echoed in his ears, the energy he was tailing radiating from inside the brothel at the very end of the town, hidden amongst the trees for a more private ambiance. He knew exactly what was taking place inside the brothel, but it wasn’t that that bothered him, it was the person inside that did. He sensed Zetsubou inside with multiple women, all of them taking their place in his bed, taking turns pleasuring him or even doing it all at once. His grunts sounded out as the moans that escaped the concubine echoed through the walls. The other women were touching him, their hands on his body as one of them rubbed their body against his while another kissed him in a sloppy manner. 

He would be lying if he said he’d never been in a similar, compromising position. He’d visited these brothels long enough to know exactly who and what he wanted every night he visited. His lust filled ways long gone, no longer causing a rise in him, especially after meeting you. That was the exact reason he was here. For you. 

An anger rose inside of him seeing your supposed future husband laying in a bed being pleasured by concubines just weeks before your wedding. His groans sounded out at the pleasure he was receiving, the moans of the concubines filling the air as he fed into infidelity. He knew all too well that men were never loyal to their wives, always frequenting the brothels for a good time. The sound of Zetsubou slamming the headboard against the wall as he fucked one of the concubines, his curses filling the air as her moans ripped through the night, it all made Sukuna’s anger run deep inside of him. The lack of respect, the complete disregard Zetsubou held for you made him want to snap his neck in half. It would be the perfect way to get you out of the betrothal. 

Even the sounds of the whores in bed with him drove Sukuna mad. They had to know the great Zen’in heir was to be wed to the L/n heir, yet they still chose to lay in bed with him, to be absolutely and disgustingly fucked by the son of a bitch. He listened to the sounds, letting the anger grow inside of him, allowing himself to plot every way he would maim Zetsubou Zen’in alive for ever treating his betrothal as disposable. Something to be disregarded. Disrespected. 

After a while, the moans and the slamming of the headboard stopped, Zetsubou’s voice ringing out as he laid in the sheets with his whores wrapped around his naked body. 

“You ladies definitely know how to show a man a good time.”, he breathed as he let them touch his body, his muscled flexing under their touch. 

“Of course, always special treatment for our best man.”, one of the whores said in a sultry voice. “It’s good to get a good fuck while you still can.”

“Trust me, even in a few weeks I’ll be back. Don’t you worry.”, the sound of Zetsubou kissing one of the women made Sukuna fill with disgust. “You have the best of the best here. Can’t stay committed to some virgin who doesn’t know how to please a man, let alone know how to fuck one.”

His energy spiraled, shoving it down as he continued to listen. 

“That’s right, you need real women, not some uptight spoiled brat.”, another woman spoke out. 

“You can get all the good pussy you want here, baby.”, another called. “We know how to treat a man right. Make you feel everything.”

“That’s all I want.”, his voice vibrated as he kissed the woman again. “C’mon baby, let's go for round two.”

And just like that, the sounds of moans and deep grunts rang out again. The knocking of the head board and the panting of hot breath filling the room. Zetsubou Zen’in was scum. Bottom of the barrel. A fucking no body. 

Sukuna bided his time, waiting deep into the night as he watched the Zen’in heir leave, heading back in the direction of his clan’s territory. Sukuna’s red eyes watched him from the shadows, his anger rising into flames around him, waiting long enough for the worthless son of a bitch to be far enough away before letting the release come. 

Fire consumed the village, everything burning into ash, the smoke filling the air as the sound of screams echoed into the night. The taverns, the trader booths, the homes, all of it catching on fire and burning every single person to a crisp. He saved the brothel for last, waiting for the sound of panic cries to ring out before walking inside and seeing all the concubines who were with the Zen’in heir trying to get out of the burning building. He forced them to stay in place, his presence overwhelming them into fear. He watched as the panic settled into their eyes, their lungs begging for air, their bodies getting burned as the flames licked the walls around them. One of them tried to run out past him, but never made it as he blew her head off in one swift slice. They screamed out, begging him to let them out, crying as he watched in emotionlessness. It wasn’t until their lifeless bodies collapsed on the ground that he left, leaving the burning village behind him as he wandered into the night. He’d burn the whole world down for you. 

Even if it meant starting with those who wronged you first.

“Our entire livestock was burned! We have no more land to grow food in!”, the sound of the Zen’in leader’s voice ringing out during their meeting with your father rang out. You listened in silence, letting yourself sink into the reality of what they were discussing. A small part of you laughing internally at their misfortune. 

Another village burned into flames just two days ago, and last night, the Zen’in’s lost all of their livestock, fertile soil, and sustainable crops. They were all burned to nothing, not even the soil or the seeds were salvageable. 

“We need to get this monster under control. We have to speed up training with our sorcerers and find our strongest men to be put into units to take him out. We cannot let him roam so freely anymore, especially not now that he’s making hits closer to our clan lands.”, the Kamo Clan leader spoke out, his voice soft as he marked the map where Sukuna made his last raid, your eyes peeking in through the slit in the door. That village.. It was right outside the Zen’in borders, it was where Zetsubou frequented the brothels. 

Ryo..

You stepped back, moving back into the hall before making your way to your bedroom, closing the door as you sat on the floor. Did he burn the village down in some act of honor for you or was it just a coincidence? 

The thoughts spiraled in your head, letting yourself undress and change into your dinner clothes, the silence still filling your home ever since your fight with your father almost three days ago. You were a week away from your marriage to Zetsubou, a gnawing in your gut as you stepped out of your room and faced your father. You stood in the doorway before making your way to the dining table and sitting in your regular spot at the very end while your father and mother sat next to one another. 

Then, a rush of energy consumed you all at once. The sensation floods your senses as you feel your body tense. You look at your father, noticing his sudden change in demeanor as one of the maids let out a cry of fear, her shaky voice barely audible as you could hear her motion towards the dining room. 

In all his glory, Sukuna stood tall and unmoving, his body adorned with fine robes and his true form showing as he occupied the space. Making the air impossible to breathe, making everyone except you suffocate in fear. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of him, why was he here?

You watched as your mother raised her hand to her mouth, covering her quivering lips. “What is the meaning of this?” she asked in a shaken tone, your eyes filled with worry as you watched your father fill with anger. 

“Sukuna”, he bowed before the King of Curses, before lifting his head and asking his question. “What brings you into our home this evening?”

Sukuna stared your father down, his true form standing tall and in overwhelming sense of dominance that made your mother cower. Although you showed no fear towards him, you could see why everyone else in the realm did. He was massive, muscular, deadly, his body taking form of a cursed entity. It was no secret that Ryomen Sukuna held an energy that defied all existence, he was far above all beings. 

You tried to stay focused, holding your shock at his sudden appearance back, not wanting them to see your reaction. 

What was he doing? 

“F/n L/n.”, Sukuna’s deep voice echoed. “Leader of the L/n clan. For such a highly renown sorcerer, you sure don’t seem to realize where your greatest assets lie.” He walked further into the room, your father’s jaw clenching noticeably. “You’re ignorant and naïve, choosing to force such a gifted sorcerer, your only daughter and heir into a marriage of mutual gain, of political power.”

“Our family and Clan matters shouldn’t interest you. Now why are you intruding on our home?”. You had to applaud your father’s boldness, asking Sukuna such a demanding question. 

“You’re too mundane, worldly, pitiful.”, you watched as he moved and sat at the table, in between the head where your father and mother sat and the opposite end where you sat. He sat with his legs crossed, leaning his head into his hand before speaking again. “Why arrange for political gain when you could have real power, L/n?”

“What are you talking about Sukuna?”, your father’s words shook slightly. 

“Look at the bigger picture. L/n may be a part of the four families, but in comparison, your poor judgment and lack of support is the reason your family will fail. You seek what humans want. You’re greedy over mundane things”, Hid deep red eyes held your father’s gaze intently, overwhelmingly. “What if I told you that you could have the power of gods?”

“Power of gods?”, your fathers hands fisted in his lap. 

“Yes”, you noticed Sukuna’s red eyes glance at you, softening only when he met your gaze and immediately hardened and dropping when he met your father’s. “You could have real power, real influence, real claim to the realm. It would put you far above the rest of the families, perhaps make you greater than the Gojos.”

You didn’t miss the glint of intrigue in your fathers eyes. Of course bed listen or spare a moment for someone like him. Anything for power, anything for more claim to the realm. Your family wasn’t weak but any means, but your father had slowly started losing connections thanks to his selfishness. It truly would be the end of the L/n family if he didn’t get it together. 

“And how would I possibly gain that? I have nothing to give you in return.” , your father smiled weakly. 

“Simple”, Sukuna leaned his head on his hand, staring at your father blankly before extending a hand and pointing at you. 

“I want Y/n as my bride.” 

[ckret2]

I know that making things not only canon-compliant but canon-plausible is basically your hobby, and you tend to enjoy taking every little detail no matter how inane and incorporating it into the greater lore of your work. Have you ever had a moment where you were trying to find a logical explanation for something, realized that it was EXTREMELY STUPID, and now you just avoid writing things that will make it come up?

I think most fan writers have one piece of canon where they're like "Yeah, no, that was a bad decision, I'm just replacing [unbelievable event/racist character portrayal/blatant disregard for how mental health works in reality/etc] with [piece of fanon that makes it work better]."

Usually, even when there's an obvious author mistake, you still have a cool canon-compliant thing to do with it. Curious if there's any exceptions.

yeah, there's a few things.

Evidence implies that Ford fell in the portal in 1983. Evidence implies that the show takes place during 2012, but maaaybe 2013? The show says he fell in the portal "thirty years ago." He was probably intended to fall in the portal in 1982 but that doesn't line up with some of the dates (particularly, song release dates). Also, exactly how long did he know Bill between meeting him and getting portaled? And exactly how long was the paranoia era? My solution: the show takes place in 2012, Ford got portaled in *mumble mumble*, it's been """thirty""" years since he fell in the portal, we're NOT gonna worry about it, and maybe the Eurythmics released their albums a year earlier in the Gravity Falls universe did you ever think of that? Huh?? But at any rate I just try to quietly glide over the little timeline issues without addressing them.

Anything Bill says that would validate a real world conspiracy theory is a lie; but, much more likely, I'm just never gonna talk about it so we can ignore it completely, especially if the conspiracy theory is antisemitic or racist. "A cabal of global elites secretly rules the world and has a really cool break room"? Bill's lying; but also, we're NOT gonna talk about that, just chucking it out the window completely. "Bill helped fake the moon landing"? We can crack jokes about that one but only to establish that Bill was lying. "The Egyptians made the pyramids look like Bill"? We're NOT gonna claim the Egyptians made the PYRAMIDS for Bill, at most they might have redecorated them; but we're probably not gonna talk about them redecorating the pyramids anyway; and we're gonna crack jokes about how stupid Ancient Aliens style idiocy is; and maybe we're just gonna minimize talking about Bill's relationship with Egypt entirely.

(A side note: one thing i REALLY appreciated from TBOB is that it clearly established that they did not build the pyramids for Bill, just temporarily redecorated them; they did not worship Bill, they thought he was a pest; and the book went out of its way to have Bill say anyone who claims aliens helped with the pyramids is a con artist. It didn't have to do that! But it really improved things a LOT.)

Anything not mentioned by Bill that alludes to iffy real world conspiracy theories, we're just not gonna talk about. "America is secretly ruled by someone other than the president and nobody knows," not gonna talk about that, I don't care that it's Santa. "Dapperly-dressed reptilian aliens," not gonna talk about that, I don't care that they were here to go dog sledding. "Mt. Rushmore is secretly a bunch of robots built to defend America from a future threat," NEVER gonna talk about that, Mt. Rushmore is a carving made by a racist on stolen land sacred to several Native American peoples, it does not deserve to be made cool.

and speaking of Santa: I don't care for Jewish characters getting shoved into Christmas stories, especially if they're "wow, it turns out the Christians were right about the existence of this folkloric figure associated with one of their most important holy days" Christmas stories, so there's a high chance I'm just never gonna mention the Krampus plot lmao. If I do, it'll only be because I need to acknowledge the relationship building Ford & Fidds got. (Or to acknowledge Ford's rage at being commanded to conform to holiday expectations, which is REALLY funny and he's completely right.)

Those are the things off the top of my head.

[sarahghetti]

it's time for bed; m.k.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: the boys help out when you have trouble falling asleep.

warnings: none, just fluff all the way through.

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

steven

out of the three of them, steven’s the one who stays up the most. between late night inventory shifts at the museum and getting sucked into a new thousand-page tomb he picked up at a bookstore, he’s the one who tends to bid you goodnight with a sheepish smile, promising that he’ll join you in just a minute, love—I’m almost done.

of course he gets carried away—how couldn’t he? you can’t leave a book halfway through a chapter, after all. but the next chapter is only a dozen or so pages, he can get through that in a jiffy.

repeat that ad infinitum and then it’s late late, which makes him immediately embarrassed when you scuffle out of bed to where he’s seated on the couch.

“sorry, darling—lost track of time.” he slots a bookmark into his current page, giving you a warm smile as he stands. “I’ll come join you now—”

you shake your head, and steven frowns. “everything alright?”

“can’t sleep, s’all.” you mumble and he hums, pulling you down onto the couch with him. you lay your head in his lap, and he covers you with a throw blanket.

“you’re in for a treat tonight,” he says, voice soft as he picks up where he left off. “just started the part on conflicts during the first intermediate period of egypt.”

he starts reading again, out loud this time. steven keeps one hand in your hair, the other tracing over the words as he goes.

“Stable eras of Egyptian history are referred to as 'kingdoms' while eras of political strife or instability are known as 'intermediate periods.' this period has long been labeled a 'dark age'—oh, those are always fun, hm?” he raises his eyebrows and you can’t help but snort softly before he continues. “…When the central government of the old kingdom, which had been built on the model of the early dynastic period in Egypt…”

steven’s always had a nice voice but it’s gentler now, accent rolling over each syllable as he reads. his fingers lightly scratch your scalp and combined with the soothing sound of him speaking, you feel your eyelids grow heavy with each page he turns.

the first time you fell asleep while he read to you, it was on accident.

you just… couldn’t help it. there’s nothing more relaxing than listening to steven animate words on paper, injecting his comments here and there whenever he found something particularly interesting.

but even when you’d flushed red upon waking, steven wasn’t offended in the slightest.

why would he be? he glances down at you now and smiles. there’s a smidge of pride in his chest as you finally doze off in his lap.

he couldn’t care less about the book with you here, finding comfort in him.

steven doesn’t dare try to move you to the bed—not when you’ve finally fallen asleep—and only shifts his position to recline a bit further down the couch.

he can sleep like this. with you, steven could sleep anywhere.

jake

when jake stays up, it’s because he’s out late at night, working his cab shifts. he always lets you and the others know his schedule the minute it comes out so that there are no surprises between you all, and so you don’t worry when he doesn’t come home before you go to bed.

he makes sure to give you a little kiss and an I love you before he leaves, and even texts you around your bedtime as well: good night, princesa. sleep well.

you responded to him hours ago yet here you are, sinking into the mattress with not a wink of sleep to show for it.

it’s not a surprise when you end up hearing the turn of a key in the front door. then, the careful shuffling of someone trying to be quiet as jake comes back from work.

he clicks his tongue, thinking that you’ve left the light on when you fell asleep, but is quickly proven wrong when he sees you’re still awake.

“what are you doing up, baby?” he frowns at the clock, coming to kneel one knee beside you on the bed.

“can’t sleep.” you groan into a pillow, exhausted, and he sighs as brushes the hair back from your face.

“eat with me?”

jaek tends to have a quick bite after a shift before getting ready for bed—either leftovers from dinner or something quick he can scrounge up in the kitchen without making too much noise.

but you’re not asleep this time, eliminating the need to be quiet, and so he hums as he leads you to sit down at the dining table before he goes to search the fridge. he pulls out a container of pasta.

“who made this?”

“steven.”

it immediately gets tossed back on a shelf and you harumph on your poor boy’s behalf, though you know it’s just because jake hates vegan cheese.

the next thing he grabs is a saran-wrapped bundle, one which you recognize as the cookie dough marc made a few days back.

that makes you perk up. “you wanna bake some cookies?”

“who said anything about baking, princesa?”

so that’s how you end up curled around each other on the couch, picking at cookie dough with your hands as jake queues up a movie.

you raise an eyebrow at the runtime. “there’s no way I’m staying awake during all this, you know.”

“of course you are, this is one of my favourites.” he gives you a look, one that implies that you’ll break his heart if you don’t, and you splutter.

“you can’t—you can’t reverse-psychology me into falling asleep.”

“I’m not,” he claims, like a liar.

to his (faked) disappointment, you start to doze off about halfway through the movie, sugar still lingering on your tongue. for all the ribbing he might’ve done before, all he does is press a kiss to the top of your head from where it lays on his chest.

he’ll go to sleep when he’s ready. for now? jake’s got you in his arms and his alter’s baking to eat—it’s a good night.

marc

marc tries to go to bed when you do. no matter if they have to go out to patrol that night, he likes to lay with you as you fall asleep, feeling your breath slow in his arms as he embraces you against his chest.

it’s impossible to stay awake for long when marc’s holding you, not with the gentle way he plays with your hair and grazes his fingers over your skin.

but tonight is different. no matter how much you try, you just. can’t. fall asleep. you shift around in his arms, and he patiently allows you to rearrange your positions as you try to find something comfortable, but nothing sticks.

you grumble, frustrated, and he laughs softly. “can’t sleep?”

“no.” you press your face into his chest, as if you’d find the answer for sleep enveloped in the scent of him. you sigh. “you should just go on patrol, I’ll be fine.”

above you, marc stills, and tilts your head up to give you a stern look.

“none of that, now.” he lightly flicks your nose. “khonshu can wait.”

can he? you wonder, watching marc’s gaze flicker to an empty spot in the room for a moment. he doesn’t move however, only settling in even more beside you, almost pointedly.

you can’t help but grin. “are we antagonizing the bird tonight?”

“only a little.”

marc stays with you as long as you need, talking and joking around with you in bed. he might not say it, but these conversations are some of his favourites—just you and him in the dark, giggling softly as if you’ll wake the city up if you’re too loud.

he can stay up later than you, too, so he especially likes it when you finally start to drift off to sleep and your speech becomes nonsensical.

“don’t put that there,” you mumble out of the blue, eyes long since closed. you’ve practically melted in his arms, and he’s gentle with his touch as to not disturb you.

“my bad,” he whispers, fighting off a laugh. “where does it go?”

“’s simple… it’s…”

you let one last sigh and he knows that you’ve fallen asleep now, nuzzling into him like a cat.

marc wants nothing more than to curl up around you and go to sleep himself, but khonshu makes a snide remark and he knows that he’s pushed the god enough.

he does take one last moment to appreciate you though, admiring you in what little light streams in from the gaps in the curtains.

as much as he loathes to leave you each time, it’s a good motivator—the image of you in their bed, peaceful and safe. cleaning up the streets of crime is just one way for him to help keep you that way, and the faster he works, the sooner he can come home to you.

[rifari2037]

Are , There  parallels and symbolism between Zuko and Katara in the cave of Two lovers and the  disguises,s they have as the blue spirit and  the painted lady .

I'm sorry for my late response. Cave of two lovers and Blue Spirit/Painted Lady were parallels with Zutara in different way. Here the analysis.

Omashu/Zutara

In The Cave of Two Lovers, Zutara were parallels with Omashu that shows Zuko was reincarnation of Oma, while Katara was reincarnation of Shu.

The main story

The main story of Omashu was two lovers who being apart because their villages in a war. The couldn't be together because of the circumstances, not because of their own decision.

The Fire Nation and Water Tribe in a war for a hundred years. Long before Zuko and Katara were born. The war of their people forced them to hate each other, it was never their own decision.

Omashu met on the top of the mountain that divides the two villages, in a neutral place where there was no war.

Zuko and Katara met in crystal catacomb that looks like the Cave of Two Lovers, in Ba Sing Se with motto 'no war in Ba Sing Se'. Zuko and Katara build a connection and trust each other despite they were enemies.

Shu died in the war, leaving devastated Oma who unleashed a terrible display of earthbending power.

Zuko as the reincarnation of Oma protected Katara as the reincarnation of Shu with all his strength and didn't let her die in battle (again).

Oma declared the war over, she built a new city with both villages and lived together in peace.

Zuko as the new Fire Lord declared the war over. Fire Lord Zuko and the avatar started a new era with love and peace, also building a new city called Republic City.

Katara didn't have a role in new city, she didn't have statue, she didn't even attend the bloodbending trial. She didn't literally die like Shu, but her absence represented that.

2. The symbolism

I just realised, when Oma was waiting for Shu who never came, the clouds behind her formed like the shape of a crescent moon even though it wasn't perfect form.

Moon was symbol and source power of waterbender.

Oma unleashed a terrible display of earthbending power, the background was red colour and red sun.

Sun is symbol and source power of firebender. Meanwhile in final battle, Sozin comet was the source power of firebender that turned the sky red.

When Oma declared the war over, the background was the sun. There were also people of two villages in front of her.

The sun in the background showed more that Zuko was reincarnation of Oma, because the sun is a symbol and the power source of firebender.

When Fire Lord Zuko declared the war over, there were people representing all places (fire nation people, water tribe, earth kingdom people, and foggy swamp tribe) in front of him.

Even though Oma and Shu were first earthbenders, but they wore red and blue instead of green or brown. Oma/Zuko wore red, then wore green in neutral place. Shu/Katara wore blue.

Oma/Zuko and Shu/Katara also consistently have the same position. Oma always on the left, while Shu always on the right. In every Zutara relationship development moments, Zuko always on the left while Katara always on the right.

The Blue Spirit and The Painted Lady

Blue Spirit was Zuko's alter ego, while Painted Lady was Katara's alter ego. In their disguise, they switch their roots.

Zuko, the firebender, first appeared as Blue Spirit in Book : WATER. He wore a blue mask, colour that was a symbol of water.

Blue spirit was an evil water spirit.

Katara, the waterbender, appeared as Painted Lady in Book : FIRE. She used red paint, colour that was a symbol of fire.

Painted Lady was a good Fire Nation spirit.

Also, they appear in chapters with the titles The Blue Spirit and The Painted Lady, the names of their alter egos.

The avatar is a bridge between the spirit world and the physical world. In parallel, Aang was the first person who discovering the identities of the Blue Spirit and Painted Lady.

Unlike Omashu/Zutara, The Blue Spirit and The Painted Lady weren't about romance, but the parallels could be the basis of their chemistry.

[moonmitefactories]

Hello! I have a few questions, tho you don't have to answer them all:

Do mites like anything when it comes to music? (styles, sounds, etc. either those of other species or creating their own) or just lack of interest/preference?

This one's probably been cleared up before but im just clarifying: were ancient mites "insane" or overly dangerous as well, like their "berserker mode," or is that something created purely as result of their species' mutilation?

Did ancient mites have family structures? How were kits treated/cared for?

Music is built into mite kits - though nowadays, neotenies - from the moment they open their silly little eyes and perk their silly little ears. It's mite nature to be allured by new sounds and rhythms, making absolutely insane instruments from a variety of materials just to create a very specific noise. Modern mites love the sounds and sensations that come from anything with electricity coursing through them, though others may have a preference leaning more towards instruments that rely on air, string or a striking force. As a collective, very quick-paced music is their favorite, the quicker and louder the better.

As for Ancient Mites, they're incredibly docile, no amount of stress ever making it possible to go berserk, unlike their modern counterparts (and also the surviving Elderly Mite, despite being an ancient he now carries the berserk affliction). Like very gentle primates that lived in either social groups or as a solitary mite.

Some lived in colonies, populated by workers, soldiers, and butchers, working with one another to raise young and harvest their crops from within. While the strongest of all groups, they get targeted a lot by Herds, Packs, and Scavengers alike for their abundance of food.

Some lived in herds, populated only by workers who spent most of their days grazing and traveling long distances. Their numbers are capable of growing to the thousands. Often led by dominant workers or Shepparded by a scavenging Butcher that defends the herd and eats the elderly/sickly.

Some lived in packs, made up of a small group of predatory mites of any variant, but more often than not, Soldiers. Fighting other packs for their territory and hunting herds that cross them.

Some lived as scavengers, solitary mites of any kind that graze near herds or steal the kills of packs. Some hunt given the opportunity, but they often settle with dwelling in the shadows or tailing herds in hopes of an easy meal.

Ancient workers were considerably larger compared to modern workers, but ancient soldiers and butchers were a little smaller than their modern counterparts. Also, Kits! Youthful mites that exist no more, but in the era of the ancient mites, they were very playful and vocal, mirroring their parents and others in their social groups, creating games and songs that other kits partook in. These social kits born in colonies, packs or herds have a fuzzy white pelt, making them easy to identify for parents and babysitters. Kits born by solitary scavengers on the other hand are born with a fuzzy brown pelt, while maintaining their natural curiosity, they're quieter, silent almost, made to hide whenever they're separated from their parent. Despite kits being born in a social or solitary setting, they can grow to become the opposite, either separating from their groups or joining a group.

Neotenies however are a different story completely, born from the rehydrated eggs left by the mites killed by The Cycle. With all life wiped out and the moon taking a few hundred million years to reassemble and recreate water, only photosynthetic organisms including mite neotenies are reborn. What then follows is a harsh hundred million year era with a few ponds of water and competing neotenies - worker neotenies tending to their own ponds as soldier/butcher neotenies guard them from the surface. Once life has regrown a considerable amount, the neotenies slowly grow into their fully developed forms and the Cycle repeats.

When mites were enslaved, was when The Cycle was broken and mites were changed.

[wanderinginksplot-writes]

One-Shot: Rebels!Rex x Arachnophobic!Reader

Rebels-era Captain Rex x arachnophobic!gn!reader

Word Count: 3,600

Warnings: Arachnophobia, fear, suspicion of treason, blaster threats, spider death

---

It was shockingly easy to trade away a patrol shift. 

Granted, not everyone loved patrols. Especially when the weather was slated to be poor or if you were assigned an overnight patrol. Fortunately, you were willing to do anything else. Kitchen work, ammunitions inventory, latrine duty… you weren’t picky. 

And there was always someone willing to negotiate for a trade. 

It probably helped that Chopper Base was so small. For all you knew, it was the only permanent Rebellion base, and you saw the same faces every day. That was bad for a variety of reasons, both personally and for the sake of the Rebellion, but it meant you knew exactly where to go when you wanted to work out a trade. 

Which was why you were extra confused when Captain Rex walked up to you in the mess hall, knocked twice on the surface of your table, and jerked his chin toward the door. “C’mon, patrol time.” 

You stared at him, aghast. The mess hall was spotless, thanks to your hours of hard work the night before. All of that had been done specifically because you had traded shifts with Pynsu, who was supposed to be on patrol with the captain that night. 

“No, I had KP last night,” you countered shakily. “Pynsu is on patrol tonight. We traded.” 

Captain Rex gave you the single most unimpressed look you had ever seen a human wear. “I’ve memorized every rule, protocol, and procedure the Rebels have come up with. None of them say anything about trading away a duty you were assigned. Let’s go.” 

You would have loved to argue further, but there were two major problems. First, as a captain, Rex outranked you and almost everyone else who consistently worked on Chopper Base. Second, he had already walked away. You had no choice but to dump your tray and awkwardly trot along after him. 

The captain didn’t make it easy to catch up and you were breathing heavily by the time you were trailing at his heels. His pace was brisk, and catching your breath took forever. Still, you had the time since you were apparently starting your patrol on the far side of the base that evening. 

Despite your burning lungs, you didn’t ask Captain Rex to slow down. How could you? He was the most well-known person on Chopper Base, and easily the most highly respected these days. 

His status as a war hero from the days of the Clone Wars was a mark in his favor. He had been a captain then, just as he was now, and he had served alongside some of the most famous Jedi generals. Though the accelerated aging built into clone genes was clearly starting to affect him, Rex was still tough and strong, his tactical skills easily on par with the best Rebel strategists. He was, in short, a living legend.

And, at this particular moment, you were impressed by his cardiovascular health and the fact that he wasn’t even breathing heavy after speed-walking up a hill.

When you reached the makeshift fence of border spikes driven into the ground, you slowed and stopped, trying not to openly clutch at your side. Fortunately, Captain Rex stopped in the same place so you didn’t seem to be giving up entirely. 

The moon was bright overhead, giving excellent visibility of the hills and strange rock outcroppings that surrounded Chopper Base. It was close to the perfect spot for a base - on enough of a hill that you could easily see anyone attempting to sneak up from the surrounding area, but nestled deep enough that you weren’t immediately apparent to anyone who may fly overhead. And no one flew overhead. 

But you cursed the bright moon and the clear view of the surrounding areas for the same reason you didn’t think Chopper Base was the perfect solution many of the Rebellion had believed it to be: the spiders. 

The instant you had gotten close enough to hear the hum of the border spikes, you could see the lurking gray blobs of the spiders and feel the vibrations of their ever-shifting legs hitting the ground. The creatures bobbed back and forth outside of the fence, and you weren’t sure whether they were waiting for an opening or trying to hypnotize you into leaving the safety of the fenced-in base. 

Either way, you dropped your gaze and tried not to shudder.

“Nice night.” 

The bland, almost laughable comment was the first thing either of you had said since you left the mess hall, and you turned to stare openly at Captain Rex. 

You supposed that, if you took the night at face value and ignored the hulking arachnids lurking nearby, it was a nice night. Between the spiders and the bats that occasionally swooped past overhead, the bugs were well under control. The nighttime temperature was almost perfect, and you had already noted the brightness of the moon. If you weren’t terrified, it would have been almost serene. 

“Yeah.”

If the captain was bothered by the shortness of your answer, he didn’t say anything about it. You stood in companionable silence, Rex scanning the surrounding perimeter while you kept your eyes fixed on the ground just outside of the border spikes. 

“You know something I don’t?”

Rex’s question came as another surprise, largely due to the fact that you had been standing guard in silence for almost ten minutes. 

“Sorry?” you asked, trying to focus. By this point, Captain Rex wasn’t going to think you were a true asset to the Rebellion, but you could manage to sound like a halfway intelligent person. Probably. 

He nodded at the ground. Specifically, the section you had been watching. “Looks like you’re expecting an attack from underground. Something I should know about?” 

You forced a laugh, though it held a hint of a shudder. You could hear one of the spider’s jaws clicking even from where you were standing. But you pushed away the awareness of your crawling skin and pulled your gaze upward. And when making direct eye contact with a spider made you want to gasp, you tipped your head further back until you were staring up at the sky. 

“Closer,” Rex commented. “At least you’ll be the first to notice if the Empire launches a ship against us. Want to try one last time?” 

In fact, you didn’t want to, but you let your eyes drift down once more. You were focusing intently on the foreground, as if you were trying to count the dust particles in the air. It didn’t work as well as you’d hoped, and your attention was soon captured by one of the spiders. 

You shuddered, and it was only luck that the captain had turned to look in the other direction when you did. You weren’t ashamed of your arachnophobia, per se… except when you were being particular arachnophobic in front of a living legend and war hero. 

It didn’t help your confidence that Rex was still an extremely handsome man.

“I don’t want to believe you’re a traitor.” 

The statement was calm and quiet, enough so that you didn’t immediately react. For a strange moment, you actually thought he had been talking to himself. But there was a new, terrible tension in the air and you could sense how still he was standing behind you. 

You glanced back over your shoulder at him. He was standing as casually as he had been when you had first arrived at the location, but you noticed for the first time that he had a set of dual blaster pistols strapped to his hips. Rex’s hands weren’t quite touching the grips of those pistols, but they were within easy grabbing distance of the weapons.

Suddenly, you got the feeling they weren’t just for protection from spiders or Imperial infiltrators.

You turned around slowly to face him, easing your hands upward and out to your sides. Whatever was going on, you didn’t want to do anything that would lead to a blaster wound. Or worse.

“Why do you always trade shifts?” Rex asked. Now that you were looking directly at him, you could see the bleeding sharp focus in his dark eyes. 

“I don’t like patrol duty,” you explained.

Rex’s hands dipped lower, drifting close to his blasters. “And it’s just a coincidence that the shifts you trade for end up with you cleaning the comms room alone overnight?” 

“Yes?” 

As soon as you heard the uncertainty in your own voice, you winced. It wasn’t a lie - it really was a coincidence. You had just… never thought about that before. Yes, you were often alone in the comms room, but that was because you were usually there in the small hours of the morning. Droids were left to observe the comms systems if there wasn’t an active Imperial presence in any nearby system. 

“I don’t believe you.” Faster than you would have thought possible, the blasters were in Rex’s hands, both aimed at you. 

“Captain… Rex, please,” you started, but were interrupted by a loud chittering sound behind you. Every part of your body was within the perimeter of the base, but your back was toward the spikes of the fence. The reminder of the giant spiders scuttling around, unobserved in the dark, made you shiver and take an instinctive step forward. 

One of Rex’s hands lifted and the other lowered a fraction. “Stay still. I don’t want to put a bolt through that pretty head, but I will if you force me to.” 

If you weren’t freezing with cold terror, you would have been ridiculously flattered by him saying that you had a pretty head. 

“I’m not a traitor,” you repeated, forcing your thoughts away from the inanity of pretty heads and back to reality of making sure yours continued operating without a blaster bolt through it. “There’s an explanation for all of this. I don’t like patrol duty. Usually, the shifts people want to trade are scheduled to last overnight. And it’s easiest to clean the comms room when only droids are inside.”

“Really?” he asked skeptically. “Because here’s what it looks like from the outside: First, you trade away the only shifts where you have to work with another person. No one to question your motives. Second, you always work at night, and those shifts are all across the base. That gives you time and privacy to gather information. Third, you’re in the comms room at least twice every week. Plenty of chances to make transmissions to the Empire.” 

“That’s not- It- I’m not a spy!” you stammered, outraged, but unable to refute any of what Rex had said. Yes, you had the opportunity to spy, but that didn’t mean you had actually done it. 

“Then explain it to me,” Rex challenged. “Explain why you’ve only worked one other patrol shift and you spent the entire thing refusing to speak with your partner.”

“I’m arachnophobic!” It burst out of you, but you weren’t upset about that. Obviously, you hadn’t earned the captain’s respect. Far from it, if he was accusing you of being a traitor to the Rebellion. It didn’t actually matter if he knew you were terrified of the spiders outside of the base. 

Rex didn’t say anything. More importantly, the blasters didn’t waver from their places aimed at your head and heart. You let more of an explanation pour from you: “I hate spiders. I don’t go on patrol duty because I would be too focused on them to notice if Palpatine himself was standing outside of the fence. It’s best for everyone if I stay inside the base and away from here.”

“Arachnophobic, eh?” Rex mused. He sounded thoughtful, but you were nervous when the blasters didn’t change position at all. “We’ll see about that.” 

“Wh-?” 

Before you could finish asking the shortest question you had, Rex had holstered one blaster and motioned you closer to the border spikes. You took a single step backward, skin crawling. Rex kept you in his sights as he walked in a wide circle around you. He ended up at the border, then used his free hand to wave between the spikes. 

You watched in confusion, then in horror as one of the massive spiders scented prey and started toward you.

Rex pulled his arm back in, seemingly satisfied. He motioned at you with the blaster he was still holding. “Go on.” 

This would be a stupid way to die, you thought, verging on desperate tears. “No. If you’re going to kill me, kill me. Don’t feed me to that thing.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” he explained patiently. “I’m going to test whether you’re really that scared of the spiders. If you are, I’ll believe you. If you aren’t… well, we’ll need enough of you to have a trial and figure out what intel you’ve passed along to the Empire.”

With that ominous statement, he waved you forward again. You weren’t sure exactly how you were walking, since everything below your neck was currently numb, but you found yourself at the very edge of the base’s border. The fence spikes hummed to your left and right sides, not nearly as far in front of you as you would prefer. 

The spider eyed you sharply. Since Rex was safe again and further away from the wall, it had clearly decided on different prey. 

It moved closer in an erratic, skittering sort of movement, clearly intended to be something you couldn’t anticipate. However, you were watching it with an intense focus borne of incredible fear. It had ended up hypnotizing you after all, but not because of any innate ability it had. 

You were still inside the border fence - that was what you kept telling yourself. It was fine, the spider couldn’t actually reach you. Never mind that it towered over you as it got closer and closer. Never mind that you could see something dripping from the fangs it was baring at you. Never mind that you were making eye contact with it and found only fascination and a bone-deep hunger staring back at you…

With the fear and adrenaline flooding your system, you were hyper-aware of everything going on around you. There was a whirr and a soft beep from behind you, but it was so much less threatening than the approaching arachnid that you discarded it immediately. The spider’s steps made the ground tremble under your feet, making the weakness in your knees even more pronounced. 

You could feel its breath. Surely that was impossible… wasn’t it? It was close, far too close by then. Close enough that you could see the walls of its tall body expanding and contracting at regular intervals. You swore you could feel the air playing across your face…

“Okay, you can step back now.” 

The sound of Rex’s voice should have been a relief, but you were far too focused on the massive predator in front of you to worry about minor things like human speech. 

“Step back.” Rex’s voice was more urgent then, but it wasn’t enough to force you into motion. “Come on, get away from there.” 

The assurance was nice, but it was helpless against the icy fear that had overtaken your entire body. The chill was deep enough that you didn’t flinch in the slightest when a strong arm looped around your stomach and started applying steady pressure. 

When you were far enough from the border fence - ‘far enough’ meaning that you and spider wouldn’t touch, even if you both extended a limb - you took such a rasping breath that you realized you hadn’t done so in far too long. The moment you did, it was as if your body shifted from prey mode into a sudden awareness of how afraid you had been. 

Your lungs burned as you took in deep, shuddering breaths. Every limb was shaking, and you couldn’t have gripped anything smaller than a canteen at that moment - tested when Rex handed you his canteen. Instead of drinking from it, however, you opted to sink slowly down to the ground. Your knees simply wouldn’t hold you anymore. 

“Easy, easy,” Rex soothed, squatting beside you as you braced your elbows against your thighs and tried to collect yourself. His hand rested heavy between your shoulder blades, a warm and soothing weight that reminded you to breathe. 

You were shaking, feeling hollow with the slow recede of adrenaline. Still, you managed to pant out the most important question: "Is… it… gone?" 

Rex looked up and you followed his gaze. The spider was still just outside the fence and - as if it were infuriated by your attention - reared up and clawed for you, jaws clattering. 

You hadn't seen Rex draw his blaster, but two loud reports sounded beside you, matching the almost instant holes bored into the spider. It shrieked once, then collapsed slowly onto its side. You shuddered again as you watched its legs curl beneath it. 

"Gone now," Rex told you. "Keep breathing and you'll be just fine in a minute." 

If you kept looking at the spider, you would never be able to focus. You turned your back to the dead arachnid, scooting further away from the fence as you did. Rex gave you an inscrutable look as you did, likely because the movement put you closer to him. 

But you couldn't see anything with your face buried in your hands. Without the visual reminders of everything that had just happened, you felt yourself calming. 

"Did I pass?" 

Despite the palms in front of your lips and the way the words had been aimed at your own lap, Rex heard you. When he answered, there was a tightness in his voice that worried you until you realized that it was laughter. 

"Yeah, you passed." There was a pause, then he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to put you through that. We can't take the chance that the Empire knows about this place." 

"I understand." It felt ridiculous to say since you were still trembling like a leaf, but you did get why they would think you were suspicious. "I really am scared of spiders." 

"No kidding," Rex said, clearly trying not to laugh again. "I've never seen anyone's pulse that high when they were standing still. Between that and the adrenaline spike, I think we should get you back to base." 

"We're… on patrol…" you said slowly. You let your hands lower away from your face, carefully not looking at the spider's body. “We can’t just leave.” 

“Are you going to be able to focus on anything other than the spiders?” 

You grimaced. “They are the most immediate threat.” 

Rex stood, reaching an arm down toward you. “Doesn’t matter if we leave. This is an extra guard shift. All the normal guard shifts are filled. I wanted to make sure we didn’t leave a gap in security if you had been a traitor and decided to fight back.” 

You stared at his hand, wondering dimly if that scenario had been meant for the possibility of him killing you or you killing him. Knowing Rex and his reputation for preparedness, he had probably been covering his bases for either. 

His hand was warm and large, and you had no sooner taken it than he pulled you to your feet. Your knees trembled dangerously, but you managed to keep yourself upright. “I think I want to go back to the base. I- I’m not going to do much good out here.” 

“Let’s go back, then,” Rex agreed, turning toward the buildings of the base. He wasn’t touching you, but you could feel warmth at the small of your back, as if he were hovering in case you started to stumble. 

“I do help the Rebellion,” you told him. It was abrupt after the two of you had been walking in silence for so long, but you felt the need to tell him that. “Maybe I avoid patrols, but I help out in other ways. Cleaning, helping in the kitchen, maintaining the weapons.” 

“I know, mesh’la,” he assured you. “You touch every part of this base’s operations other than guard duties. That’s what first drew our attention.” 

“Our?” you repeated, stomach sinking again. “Who else thinks I’m a traitor?” 

“My brothers and I are responsible for the security of this base,” Rex said steadily, redirecting from outright accusations of treachery. “”We noticed that you were everywhere, but always alone. That’s a warning sign for someone who isn’t who they claim to be. It all makes sense now, but you have to admit that it looked suspicious.” 

“I know it did,” you admitted freely. A horrible thought struck you and your voice was tense as you asked, “I don’t have to do this again with Wolffe and Gregor, do I?” 

Rex chuckled lowly, shaking his head. “No, you don’t. I’ll tell them what I learned and clear any suspicion from your name. I might accompany you on your next few shifts, but everything else is fine.” 

You frowned. “So you still think there’s a possibility that I’m passing information to the Empire?” 

“No, I don’t,” Rex denied, eyes kind as he glanced over at you. “But I don’t like the idea of you being alone all the time. That isolation isn’t good for anyone, especially with the stress of fighting the Imps. If I’m around, you’re always welcome to spend time with me. I lived with Wolffe and Gregor for longer than any being should ever have to. I could use some good company for a change.”

With some effort, you kept your expression smooth and your breathing steady. You didn’t want to presume anything, but it seemed like Rex might be… flirting with you. 

You smiled at him, heart stuttering when he smiled back. “I’d like that.”

---

Author's Note - Welcome to my experience watching those episodes of Rebels as someone with arachnophobia. It was… not a good time. This is my first time writing Rebels-era Rex, so please let me know if you have thoughts or advice for next time!

Thank you for reading!

[churino]

Design for wing saber , mugen , ichibi and hyakurai the caliber minicon team

Assasins for the functionist council that belived in prima's cause, they aided in the revolution that created the autobots and decepticons and gave up their lives to create powerlinxing, bringing the transformers closer together, neither wing saber nor his minicons can naturally fly on their own but when united they can soar together

During the functionist era, cybertron was rulled by a functionist council of rich and powerful transformers that acted out of the city of iacon. To enforce their rule over the planet they had assassins and soldiers built to be bigger, stronger, more alive, and as their projects grew in scope the material left for cybertronians to build regular people out of shrunk, which led to a minicon population boom

Already dissatisfied with the state of the planet many people decided to leave and settle elsewhere, facilitated by the fact they don't need to breathe cybertronians were able to create a permanent settlement on one of cybertron's moons even though their technology in this era was similar to what we on earth have today

Wing Saber was built as an assassin for the functionist council, but he was a flawed weapon. always compassionate to the downtrodden and oppressed, he would fail many of his tasks, only able to work well enough to be kept around, but that's because he masks his true potential

Because such a thing is impossible to measure comprehensively, he doesn't know, but wing saber is the greastest swordsman in the entire universe, this ability coming from his conection to his minicons, the first to coin the oddly spelt term "powerlinxing"

The four of them are the first followers of prima, and after a betrayal left the early leaders of the revolution banished to the planet dominus, they worked together with the native nebulans of the world, to sacrifice themselves granting prima the power of the star saber

The caliber minicon team are brought together by their connection to wing saber which turned romantic at some point before they met prima but they each have their own background

Born and raised on the religious temple of the torchbearers on one of cybertron's moons, Mugen came down to cybertron during the functionist era to spread word of the enigma of combination only to find herself engaged with the social struggles on the planet Mugen was a mystic who believed in prophecy and magic, and it was her powers amplified by her partners, combined with the nebulan's technology that allows powermasters, headmasters, and target masters to come about through the creation of the dominus system and the masterforce that allows transformers to merge with and upgrade technology foreign to them.

A serious and scientific bot, hyakurai saw the fight for rights and freedom of his era through a logical analytic view, reasoning that the system was inefficient and the ideologies it's founded on misinformed, and that's why it must be torn down Wing saber and mugen had something of a savior complex, and hyakurai worked hard to make sure they didn't put their noses where they don't belong. The care he showed for them was reciprocated, and the relationship between the three of them turned romantic,

A master of misdirection, ichibi was a fellow assasin of wingsaber, and his closest friend, ichibi loves playing with emotions and getting reactions out of people, his flirting with disloyalty being what gets wing saber to consider intentionally failing at his job, Ichibi is not part of the little relationship between the other three. Although they wish he was, he liked being a tease and was genuinely friends with all three of them enough to live together, but for some reason or another, this setup just seemed more interesting to him

The caliber minicon team was entombed in the disaster planet dominus within a star harvester that their bodies modify to broadcast the masterforce throughout the dominus system, bouncing the energies to cybertron's moons and back to dominus creating a triangle of space where the transformers are empowered,

Their bodies have been crushed into a black disk that slots into the star harvester called the black star matrix, it's power creating the titan fortress maximus and his brother grand maximus.

[planet-marz1]

Is It Over Now?

Summary: Still reeling from Joel's revelation, you find solace in someone new. Pairing: Joel x F!Reader Word Count: ~7.1k

Tags/Warnings:18+MDNI no use of y/n, jackson!joel, established relationship, angst, somewhat? happy ending, infidelity, joel just kinda sucks honestly,alcohol consumption, implied smut (not with joel), lots of joel tears, pet names (sweetheart), jealousy, insecurities, self doubt, reader is in her healing era, reader slaps a bitch (it's deserved, I swear)

A/N: Hi! This is the second, and final part of this series, though I have a few more drabbles & oneshots planned to write and post. This is dedicated to my love @kajashe 💗 and thank you to my beloved @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading this for me! and yet another thank you to all of my friends who listened to me ramble on about this for the past several days in discord 💜

beautiful dividers by @/saradika

follow my fic updates blog @planetmarz1-notifs

| part i | series masterlist | main masterlist |

The passing weeks were a blur of emotional turmoil and quiet introspection. The once-familiar routines of life felt like a distant memory, replaced by a persistent ache that accompanied every moment of solitude. Your days were marked by the slow process of healing, a journey undertaken one painful step at a time.

Joel had respected your request for space, retreating to the refuge of his brother Tommy's home. The absence of his presence in your shared space only served as a constant reminder of the void that had opened up in your life. Jackson carried on with its daily rhythm, oblivious to the personal upheaval that had unfolded within its walls.

Nights were the hardest. The quiet darkness seemed to amplify the echoes of the past, and sleep became an elusive visitor. The couch where you had waited for Joel that fateful night became a throne of solitude, the cushions bearing silent witness to the nights spent wrestling with the fragments of a broken heart.

In moments of vulnerability, you allowed yourself to revisit the memories of the life you had built together. Photographs adorned the walls, frozen moments in time that now carried the weight of bittersweet nostalgia. The laughter, the shared dreams, and the quiet moments of connection—all now tainted by the knowledge of his betrayal.

The settlement's whispers reached your ears—a mix of sympathy, curiosity, and the well-intentioned attempts of friends trying to fill the void left by Joel's absence. Their concern was palpable, but the wounds were still fresh, the healing a slow and arduous process.

Alone in the quiet living room, the remnants of your shattered relationship lingered like ghosts in the air. The moon cast a cold glow through the window, illuminating the space where the truth had been laid bare. The weight of Joel's confession hung heavy in the room, and you were left grappling with a mix of emotions that threatened to consume you.

You sat on the couch, staring into the darkness outside, your mind racing to make sense of the betrayal. Every corner of the room seemed to echo with the whispers of the life you thought you knew, now tainted by the harsh reality of Joel's infidelity.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant sounds of the settlement outside. You replayed the moments leading up to this revelation, searching for signs you might have missed, clues that could have prepared you for the storm that had now engulfed your relationship.

The ache in your chest deepened, and you could feel the hot prickle of tears threatening to spill over. Anguish, betrayal, and confusion mingled in a tumultuous storm within you. You wanted answers, an explanation that could somehow make sense of the wreckage now surrounding you.

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, marking the passage of time in a world that suddenly felt unfamiliar. As you sat there in the quiet, you wondered how the foundation of your life had crumbled so swiftly, like sand slipping through your fingers.

Outside, the settlement continued its slumber, blissfully unaware of the personal cataclysm unfolding within your home. You needed time to process the truth, to navigate the emotional minefield that now lay before you.

The door creaked open, and Joel stepped back into the room, his eyes filled with regret. The air tensed as he hesitated, unsure of his place in this shattered reality. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of the words.

You looked up, your eyes meeting his. The distance between you felt insurmountable, a vast chasm that had opened up in the wake of his betrayal. "I need time to figure this out," you said, your voice steady despite the tempest of emotions within you.

Joel nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the consequences he had brought upon himself. As he left the room again, the door closing softly behind him, you were left alone with the wreckage of a love that had weathered countless storms, only to be undone by the tempest within.

So here you are now, at the Tipsy Bison, with its low hum of conversations and the comforting clink of glasses, served as a temporary escape from the turmoil within. The dimly lit bar offered a semblance of solace, a place to drown the sorrows that had become constant companions.

You sat alone at the bar, nursing a drink, the amber liquid reflecting the flickering candlelight. The weight of recent events lingered, a heavy burden you sought to momentarily cast aside. The soft music in the background provided a melancholic soundtrack to the evening.

As you stared into the depths of your drink, Noah took the seat next to you—a familiar face in the crowd, someone you'd seen around the settlement but never really paid much attention to. His attempts at small talk were met with your usual indifference. In the past, your loyalty to Joel had been unwavering, and the idea of entertaining advances from others never crossed your mind.

Tonight, however, the rules had shifted. The wounds of heartbreak were still raw, and the empty space beside you echoed the absence of a familiar presence. Noah persisted, undeterred by your initial disinterest.

"Rough night?" he asked, a half-smile playing on his lips.

You looked at him, a mixture of exhaustion and pain in your eyes. "You could say that."

Noah nodded, understanding glinting in his eyes. "Sometimes a drink is the only company we've got."

A subtle smile played on your lips as you reciprocated his banter. "Seems like you're here for more than just the drinks."

He chuckled, a warmth in his voice. "Well, it's not every night I get to share the bar with someone as intriguing as you, sweetheart"

The dance of flirtation continued, the bar becoming a stage where you and Noah played out a scene of shared laughter and camaraderie. The soft music provided a backdrop to the banter, a temporary escape from the weight that had settled on your shoulders.

Noah leaned in, his voice a low murmur. "You know, I've seen you around, but we've never really talked. What brings you here tonight?"

You sighed, a moment of vulnerability slipping through. "Just trying to forget for a little while, I guess."

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "Sometimes, a little distraction is all we need."

As the night wore on, the boundaries between reality and the fleeting connection blurred. Noah became a temporary ally in a battle against the memories that threatened to engulf you. In the shadows of the Tipsy Bison, you allowed yourself a momentary escape, a reprieve from the heartache that still clung to the edges of your world.

The hours passed in a haze of shared stories and laughter. Noah proved to be an unexpected source of comfort, his presence a balm to the wounds that had yet to fully heal. The Tipsy Bison became a refuge, a sanctuary where, for a brief moment, the weight of heartbreak was lifted.

As the night progressed, Noah's conversation turned more earnest, his gaze holding a sincerity that resonated with you. "You know," he said, his voice softened by the dim ambiance of the bar, "Sometimes it helps to talk about what's going on. You don't have to carry it all alone."

The vulnerability in his words echoed the vulnerability you had been avoiding. The temptation to open up, to share the burden, tugged at the edges of your restraint. "It's just been a tough time," you admitted, a hint of gratitude in your voice.

Noah nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "I get that. Life has a way of throwing curveballs when we least expect it."

The moment stretched, the connection between you deepening. The bar, once a backdrop for distraction, now felt like a space where two people navigating the complexities of life found common ground.

As the night neared its end, Noah leaned in, his voice a whisper. "I'm not an expert in fixing things, but if you ever need someone to listen, I'm here."

His sincerity resonated, and you nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Noah. It means more than you know."

The Tipsy Bison, with its flickering lights and the hum of conversations, witnessed a different side of you that night—a side that embraced vulnerability and sought solace in unexpected places. As you parted ways, the weight on your shoulders felt a bit lighter, and the bar's exit became a threshold to a world where healing, though uncertain, seemed a little more attainable.

The night air felt cool as you and Noah stepped out of the bar, the soft glow from the neon sign casting a gentle halo around you. The settlement slept in the quiet darkness, oblivious to the shared moments of connection that had unfolded within the bar's walls.

The walk back to your house was a journey through silent streets, the hushed conversations between you and Noah punctuated by the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. The weight of the evening's revelations lingered, but in Noah's company, it felt less burdensome.

As you approached the front door, you turned to him, a newfound warmth in your eyes. "Do you want to come in? Maybe have another drink?" The invitation hung in the air, a testament to the unexpected bond that had formed between you.

Noah's response was a gentle smile "I'd like that," he said, his voice carrying a sense of genuine camaraderie.

The door opened with a soft creak, and the familiar comfort of your home greeted you both. The living room, once a witness to heartache, now seemed to hold the promise of shared moments and tentative healing.

You settled on the couch, the echoes of the night's laughter still lingering. The air felt charged with the unspoken, a connection that transcended the confines of mere friendship. As you poured another round of drinks, the silence between you felt comfortable, a space where words were unnecessary.

Noah's eyes met yours, and in that shared gaze, there was an understanding that words could not fully capture. The vulnerability of the evening had laid bare the complexities of your heart, and Noah, in his quiet way, seemed to offer a respite from the storm.

As the night unfolded, the connection deepened. Laughter, shared stories, and the gentle ebb and flow of conversation filled the room. In that unexpected companionship, you found solace—a reminder that, even in the aftermath of heartbreak, there were still moments of connection waiting to be discovered.

The time you two had spent together at the bar had been a catalyst for change, and now, in the quietude of your home, you allowed the night to unfold, unsure of where it might lead but grateful for the warmth that had found its way into the cracks of a wounded heart.

The ambiance in the room shifted subtly, the air thickening with a newfound energy that danced between you and Noah. The shared laughter and easy conversation took on a softer note, and the space on the couch seemed to shrink, drawing you both closer.

You caught Noah's gaze lingering, his eyes holding a warmth that went beyond mere camaraderie. The flickering candlelight cast a gentle glow on his features, highlighting the sincerity in his eyes. A charged silence settled between you, one that spoke volumes without the need for words.

As you sipped your drinks, the magnetic pull of the moment intensified. The shared vulnerability of the evening had forged a connection that transcended the ordinary, and in the quietude of the living room, the boundaries between friendship and something more blurred.

Noah's fingers traced absentminded patterns on the rim of his glass, and his gaze met yours with a subtle intensity. The unspoken tension hung in the air, a delicate dance that neither of you seemed eager to disrupt.

The air seemed to hum with anticipation as you leaned in, drawn by an invisible force that defied explanation. The room held its breath, and in that suspended moment, your lips brushed against each other in a gentle, tentative kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as the kiss deepened, the warmth of Noah's touch sending a current of electricity through you. The weight of heartbreak momentarily lifted, replaced by the promise of something new, something uncharted.

You don’t care about anything else but losing yourself in the feeling of being loved even if just for tonight. As the passion between you continues to escalate with each passing second, all thoughts of tomorrow fade away into oblivion leaving only this one perfect moment stretching out endlessly before the two of you like an eternal embrace.

The air in your home was filled with a mix of holiday scents — the piney aroma of the Christmas tree, the faint whiff of cinnamon from the candles scattered around the room. It was Christmas Eve, and the settlement was adorned with festive lights and decorations.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of the deep green dress you had chosen for the occasion. Despite the outward festivities, a quiet melancholy clung to you, a reminder of the heartbreak that still lingered beneath the surface.

As you finished getting ready, the soft knock on the door signaled Noah's arrival. His presence, a comforting constant in the weeks that followed that unexpected encounter, had become a source of solace. Tonight, however, the prospect of a Christmas party loomed, and the idea of celebrating seemed to clash with the healing wounds of your past.

Noah entered, a warm smile on his face as he took in your appearance. "You look stunning," he remarked, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and concern.

You managed a small smile in return, the weight of your unspoken thoughts evident in your eyes. "Thanks, Noah. I'm just not sure I'm in the festive mood, you know?"

He approached and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I understand. But Maria insisted, and maybe being around people, even for a little while, might help."

Reluctantly, you nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. Maria had been a steadfast presence in your life, offering support and encouragement as you navigated the aftermath of heartbreak. Tonight's Christmas party was her attempt to bring a glimmer of joy into your world.

Together, you and Noah made your way through the decorated streets toward the town center. The settlement buzzed with festive energy — laughter, music, and the scent of holiday treats wafting through the air. As you approached the venue, the warm glow of lights spilled from the windows, casting a welcoming glow.

The Christmas Eve party in town was in full swing, with the warm glow of lights and the spirited energy of the season enveloping the settlement. As you navigated the festive atmosphere with Noah at your side, the subtle shift in your mood was palpable. The healing process was slow, but the comfort of friends and the shared moments of celebration were working their magic.

As you entered the bustling venue, your eyes caught a familiar figure across the room — Joel. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, the shock of seeing him after weeks of absence coursing through your veins. His presence cast a shadow over the festive scene, and the room suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken history.

Noah sensed your tension, his grip on your hand tightening in a silent reassurance. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched across his face.

You nodded, attempting to mask the surprise that rippled beneath the surface. "Yeah, I just… I didn't expect to see him here."

Noah glanced toward Joel, his expression thoughtful. "Do you want to leave? We can go somewhere quieter."

You considered the offer, but something in you resisted the impulse to retreat. "No, let's stay. I need to face this."

Together, you and Noah approached the gathering. As Joel noticed your presence, his eyes met yours, a mix of surprise and a hint of remorse flickering in his gaze. The air crackled with the unspoken tension of past wounds and unanswered questions.

Maria, ever perceptive, approached, greeting you with an exuberant hug, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. Her warm smile faltered as she sensed the dynamics at play. "I didn't know he would be here. I'm sorry if this is uncomfortable for you."

You offered a tight smile, the weight of the situation settling around you. "It's okay, Maria. I can handle it."

The party unfolded with the spirited energy of the season — people dancing, laughter filling the air, and the exchange of heartfelt wishes. As you moved through the festivities, Noah's hand found yours, a subtle reassurance in the midst of the crowd.

The night progressed, and despite your initial hesitations, a subtle shift occurred. The music, the laughter, and the shared moments with friends began to chip away at the walls around your heart. The healing process was ongoing, and in the company of those who cared, the weight of heartbreak felt a little lighter.

A moment of stillness settled over the room. In that quiet pause, your eyes met Joel's once more. The unspoken history, the shattered pieces of a relationship, and the complexity of emotions were etched in that shared gaze. Noah's hand found yours again, a grounding force amidst the emotional storm.

As you navigated the remainder of the Christmas party, the unspoken tension with Joel remained, but in the company of friends and the warmth of the season, you found solace. The dance of emotions continued, and as the night unfolded, you carried with you a newfound resilience, a testament to the strength found in facing the unexpected and the hope that lingers in the aftermath of heartbreak.

Amidst the swirl of holiday festivities, your eyes inadvertently caught a glimpse of Veronica across the room. Her presence, unexpected yet inevitable in a close-knit settlement, stirred a complex mix of emotions within you. As she engaged in conversation with others, a subtle ache of self-doubt crept into your thoughts.

What did she have that made Joel cheat on me with her?

The question lingered, not born out of jealousy, but rather a yearning for understanding. The doubts festered like quiet shadows in the corners of your mind, threatening to overshadow the celebratory atmosphere.

Noah sensed the shift in your demeanor, his grip on your hand tightening as a silent gesture of support. "You okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

You forced a small smile, attempting to dispel the doubts that threatened to cloud the festive evening. "Yeah, just unexpected seeing her here, you know?"

Noah nodded in understanding, his gaze a reassuring anchor in the sea of emotions. "You're stronger than you think. Remember that."

As you continued to navigate the party, the glimpses of Veronica sparked moments of introspection. The dance of doubt and self-reflection unfolded, but amidst it all, a deeper truth emerged — the strength to confront insecurities and the resilience to rise above the echoes of past heartbreak.

Joel remained on the periphery, a figure in the background of the unfolding drama. The unspoken tension with Veronica echoed the complexities of relationships, and in the midst of the holiday cheer, you found a quiet resolve to focus on the present and the connections that mattered most.

As the party continued, a lingering curiosity pulled you toward Veronica. The desire for closure and understanding overshadowed the self-doubt that had surfaced. The pulsating beat of the Christmas music seemed to align with the tension in the air as you approached Veronica. The crowd hushed in the wake of your confrontation, and even the festive decorations couldn't quite drown out the charged atmosphere.

This is it, you thought, your fists clenched by your sides. Time to confront the source of this mess. "Veronica," you said, your voice edged with a simmering anger. "We need to talk."

She turned, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Well, look who decided to show up. Didn't think I'd see you here."

Hold it together, you reminded yourself, swallowing the initial surge of rage. She's not worth it. Ignoring the jab, you pressed on. "Cut the crap. What happened between you and Joel?"

Veronica chuckled, a snarky glint in her eyes. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure he's got his version of the story."

Like I haven't already tried, you thought, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. But I want to hear it from her.Your patience wore thin, and a flash of anger ignited. "I'm asking you. What did you think you were doing?"

Veronica rolled her eyes, an unapologetic tone lacing her words. "Oh, please. Don't act clueless in all of this. Joel and I, we had our reasons."

Reasons? The word echoed in your mind, a bitter taste settling on your tongue. The retort stung, and you shot back,"What reasons could there possibly be to betray someone like that?"

Keep her on the defensive, you urged yourself. Make her face the consequences of her actions.

Veronica's smirk persisted, her snarky demeanor unyielding. "Maybe you should ask Joel what he was missing at home."

No. Don't let her deflect the blame. The anger surged again, a tempest threatening to consume reason.

The words hung in the air, a venomous revelation that fueled the anger within. The crowd around you seemed to blur as the confrontation intensified, each word exchanged an arrow that pierced through the facade of festive cheer. 

Everyone knew, you mused bitterly. The whole damn town knew you and Joel were together.

As the exchange reached its peak, the energy between you and Veronica crackled with unresolved emotions. The pulsating beat of the music in the background seemed to align with the tension in the air, the crowd still hushed in the wake of your confrontation. Each word exchanged felt like a seismic tremor, shaking the foundations of the festive atmosphere.

"You're unbelievable," you seethed, the anger boiling over. "I hope you're proud of yourself." Stay strong, you reminded yourself, fighting against the torrent of emotions. You've got this.

Veronica shrugged, a nonchalant expression masking any hint of remorse. "I did what I wanted. Life's too short for regrets."

Regrets, the word echoed in your mind. Is she really that callous? Keep it together, you urged yourself, clenching your fists by your sides. Don't let her see how much she's getting to you.

Noah, sensing the escalating tension, remained by your side, a silent pillar of support. The confrontation with Veronica had become a battleground of emotions, a clash between hurt and defiance.

This is it. The moment of truth.

In a flash, the weight of anger, frustration, and betrayal coalesced into a surge of raw emotion. Without a second thought, your hand connected with Veronica's cheek in a resounding slap. The crowd, which had been observing in a stunned silence, erupted into gasps and whispers.

Veronica stumbled back, her hand on her cheek, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and indignation. The slap reverberated through the room, a cathartic release of the pent-up emotions that had been building since the revelation.

"You deserved that," you declared, your voice steady, though your heart pounded with the intensity of the moment.

As Noah guided you away from the charged atmosphere, the weight of the confrontation lingered. The Christmas party resumed its festive cheer, but the encounter with Veronica had become a defining chapter, a moment where you asserted your strength and reclaimed a sense of control in the aftermath of betrayal.

The brisk night air greeted you as you and Noah stepped out of the lively Christmas party. The settlement was adorned with a soft blanket of snow, and the crunch of each footstep echoed in the quiet winter night. The atmosphere outside was a stark contrast to the charged energy that had filled the party just moments before.

Noah kept a reassuring arm around you as you navigated the snowy path toward your house. The silence between you was a comforting one, a respite from the emotional turbulence of the evening. The distant sounds of laughter from the party gradually faded into the serene stillness of the snowy landscape.

The glow of the settlement's lights reflected off the pristine snow, casting a soft illumination on the familiar path. The events of the night lingered in the air, and as you reached your doorstep, you turned to Noah with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion.

"Thanks for being there," you said, your voice carrying the weight of the emotions that had unfolded.

Noah nodded, his expression filled with understanding. "Anytime. You handled that with a lot of strength."

You managed a small smile, appreciating his support. "I just want to move forward, you know? Leave all this behind."

The snowflakes continued to fall, adding a sense of serenity to the moment. As you opened the door to your home, the warmth inside offered a stark contrast to the chilly night. The familiar surroundings provided a sense of solace, a haven away from the echoes of the confrontation.

The air in the room felt heavy with unspoken tension as you confronted Joel about his infidelity. The harsh reality of betrayal lingered, casting a shadow over the relationship you had thought was secure.

"Why, Joel?" you demanded, your voice a mix of pain and anger. "Who was it? Who did you cheat on me with?"

Joel hesitated, his eyes avoiding yours for a moment before meeting your gaze with a mixture of regret and guilt. "It was Veronica," he confessed, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air.

Veronica's name echoed in your mind, a face from the town, someone you had known, someone whose presence had been intertwined with your life in the settlement. The shock of the revelation was like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the room seemed to spin.

"Veronica?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The name felt like a betrayal in itself, a person who had shared the same space as you, someone you had considered a part of the community.

Joel's expression shifted, a mix of remorse and desperation. "I messed up, It wasn't about her. It was about me, about the mistakes I made."

The words did little to ease the pain, and the room became a battleground of conflicting emotions. Anguish, betrayal, and disbelief swirled within you, a storm of feelings that threatened to overwhelm.

As you absorbed the revelation, the weight of the truth settled. Veronica, a name that had been a mere background detail in the tapestry of your life, now held a significance that cut deep. The confrontation with Joel had peeled back the layers of the facade, revealing a reality you had never anticipated.

In the midst of the emotional maelstrom, you took a step back, needing distance to process the harsh truth. The room, once a sanctuary, felt foreign and unwelcoming. The echoes of the revelation hung in the air, and as Joel sought words of apology, you grappled with the shattered pieces of a relationship that had crumbled in the wake of betrayal.

The weight of that night lingered in your thoughts. Veronica's presence, once a casual detail in the fabric of your life, had become a symbol of a painful chapter in your past. The journey of healing continued, marked by the scars of the confrontation and the resolve to move forward, one step at a time.

The soft murmur of pages turning and the hushed whispers of readers created a peaceful ambiance in the small settlement's library. As the librarian, you were engrossed in arranging the shelves when the door creaked open. A tall, rugged man entered, a hint of unfamiliarity etched into the lines of his face.

Joel, a newcomer to the community, you’d seen him around town with a young girl practically attached at his hip. He cast an assessing glance around the room before approaching the counter where you stood. His eyes, weathered and guarded, met yours as he cleared his throat, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I'm lookin' for books about space."

You looked up from your task, offering a warm smile. "Space, huh? Planning a journey to the stars?" you teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Joel's lips twitched into a small smile, a rare expression on his usually stoic face. "Not exactly. Got a kid back home who's mighty interested in space. Wants to know everything there is."

Interest sparked in your eyes as you couldn't help but inquire, "Your daughter, then?"

He hesitated, a subtle shift in his gaze, but he didn't correct you. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

Your smile widened. "Well, you've come to the right place. We've got a stellar collection—pun intended."

Joel nodded, a silent acknowledgment of your attempt at humor. "Good to know."

As you led him through the aisles, the conversation flowed easily. He shared stories of Ellie, a girl he watched over, protected, and cared for deeply. The love in his words painted a vivid picture, and when you mentioned how wonderful it was that he and his "daughter" shared such interests, he didn't correct you.

"So, what's her favorite subject?" you asked, your tone playfully nudging towards the unspoken connection.

He chuckled, a soft warmth in his eyes. "Space, definitely. She's got a million questions about stars, planets, you name it."

You grinned, leaning slightly closer. "Well, Joel, it seems you've got a budding astronomer on your hands. Lucky for you, I'm an expert in celestial matters."

Joel's expression remained stoic, but there was a subtle glint of amusement in his eyes. "Is that so?"

You nodded, your gaze meeting his with a hint of mischief. "Absolutely. But my expertise doesn't come cheap. I'll need payment in the form of a good conversation and maybe a coffee sometime."

Joel's chuckle deepened, and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Coffee, huh? You got yourself a deal."

As Joel left the library with a stack of books, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth. The door closed behind him, leaving you with the subtle hum of excitement and the gentle echo of playful banter that seemed to linger in the air. The library, once a quiet haven of solitude, now held the promise of a story unfolding—one with celestial wonders and perhaps a touch of romance.

in the quiet moments of reflection, your mind often wandered to the time when you and Joel first met. The memory used to bring a warm smile to your face—the genuine laughter, the shared dreams, the promise of a future entwined with his. But now, each recollection was tainted by the bitter sting of betrayal, and the nostalgia had become a source of pain.

As you sat alone in the dimly lit room, the flickering shadows seemed to mimic the turbulence within your heart. The memory of your first meeting played in your mind like a melancholy film—a reminder of the love that had once been untarnished. The weight of what had transpired since then pressed down on you, leaving a bitter aftertaste to a memory that had once been so sweet.

The soft hum of a distant song, a melody you both used to share, brought a wave of conflicting emotions. Your mind wandered back to that day—the laughter, the stolen glances, the electric feeling of a connection that transcended words. It was a time when you looked into his eyes and felt like you had found something extraordinary.

But now, those memories were haunted by the echoes of his infidelity, and the rose-tinted glasses you once wore shattered, revealing the painful truth beneath. The laughter had become an echo, the glances a cruel reminder, and the connection a frayed thread threatening to unravel.

In the midst of the emotional turmoil, you found yourself thinking, almost wistfully, about what life would have been like if you'd never met Joel. The thought was a bitter pill to swallow, a testament to the depth of the wounds inflicted.

You replayed the scenes of your shared history—the highs and the lows, the joy and the heartbreak. The almost-wish lingered in the recesses of your mind, a testament to the profound impact of betrayal on the once cherished memories.

Joel has shown up at your door, trying to extend a tentative olive branch, an attempt to breach the chasm that had widened between you. His words were carefully chosen, an apology that carried the weight of remorse. He expressed a longing for resolution, a desire to face the consequences of his actions and rebuild what had been lost. “Can I come in?” he says hesitantly, trying to gauge your emotional state.

Reluctantly you nod, and step aside, allowing him into the house.

The weight of Joel's confession hung in the air. The room steeped in a heavy silence, and charged with the weight of unresolved emotions as you and Joel sat facing each other. The revelation of his infidelity with Veronica had unearthed a raw vulnerability. It had left your relationship hanging in the balance.You needed answers that transcended the initial betrayal. You both needed to confront the difficult question of where to go from here.

"Why, Joel?" you questioned, your voice steady but edged with a yearning for understanding. "I get that you were lost, but why did you keep cheating with her after the first time? Why not just admit it to me after it happened once?"

Joel's gaze met yours, his eyes carrying the weight of guilt. He took a moment before responding, as if grappling with his own internal turmoil.

"I didn't know how to face it," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "The shame, the guilt—it overwhelmed me. And every time it happened again, the weight of that guilt just grew. I was trapped in a cycle, and I couldn't find a way out."

Your brow furrowed, a mix of frustration and disbelief settling within you. "So, instead of admitting your mistake and trying to make amends, you kept it a secret and continued to betray our relationship?"

Joel nodded, the admission heavy on his conscience. "I thought if I could just stop, if I could find a way to break free from that cycle, I could spare you the pain of knowing. But each time, I failed. It became a vicious cycle I couldn't escape."

The room seemed to close in as the gravity of his words sank in. The cycle of betrayal, a web of lies and shame, had perpetuated itself, leaving both of you ensnared in the consequences.

"But why?" you pressed, your voice a mixture of frustration and sadness. "Why not face the consequences and be honest with me? We could have worked through it together, Joel."

His eyes reflected the internal struggle, a war between the truth and the self-imposed isolation he had subjected himself to. "I was scared. Scared of losing you, scared of facing disappointment. It was a selfish choice, and I see that now."

The admission hung in the air, a painful acknowledgment of the choices that had led to the fracture of trust. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a battlefield of emotions.

"So, you kept hurting me to protect yourself," you whispered, the weight of the realization settling on your shoulders.

Joel's gaze remained fixed on the floor, his silence confirming the painful truth. The unraveling of the secrets and the depths of his struggles became a sobering reality, and as you navigated the aftermath of betrayal, the room seemed to echo with the weight of unspoken regrets and the yearning for a path forward.

The room felt like a suffocating space, each revelation adding weight to the heavy air. Joel's admission of infidelity hung between you, a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge. After a moment of tense silence, you found the strength to voice the truth that had been echoing in your heart.

After a moment, you gathered the courage to voice the question that lingered in the room like an unspoken specter. "What now, Joel? What does this mean for us?"

Joel looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of desperation and remorse. "I messed up. I know I can't change the past, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. If you're willing to give me another chance, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, the memories of a time when love flowed effortlessly between you resurfaced. There had been a time when you looked into his eyes and couldn’t imagine a future, a universe, where you didn’t stare into them for eternity. The love you had for him was one like no other, the strongest you’d ever felt for someone, for something.

But now, those eyes hold the weight of betrayal, and the road ahead seems uncertain. You took a deep breath, searching for the right words to navigate the delicate conversation.

The sincerity in his voice tugged at the frayed edges of your heart, but the wounds were fresh, and the scars of betrayal ran deep. The room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting your response.

"I can't, Joel," you said, your voice steady but laced with a profound sadness. "This- 

 It's too much. I can't see a way forward for us."

Joel's eyes pleaded with a mix of regret and desperation, but the gulf between you seemed insurmountable. "I messed up, I know I did, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

The sincerity in his voice clashed with the shattered trust, and you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "No, Joel. It's not just about saying sorry or making things right. It's not just about the mistake," you began, your voice measured but carrying the depth of your emotions. 

"It's about the trust we had, and that trust has been shattered. This is a betrayal that cuts deep, and I don't think we can come back from it."

His face fell, the weight of realization settling in. "We've been through so much together. Please, don't end us because of one mistake."

The room seemed to close in as you grappled with the heartbreaking decision. "It's not just one mistake, Joel. It's a pattern of choices that shattered the foundation of trust we had. I can't continue a relationship where I constantly question if I'll be cheated on again.”

Joel's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his voice wavered with a mix of remorse and desperation. "I'll change, I'll do anything to make this right. Just give me a chance."

But the echoes of his pleas couldn't drown out the resolute decision forming in your heart. "I'm sorry, Joel. It's best for both of us to move on. This is too much of a betrayal, and I need to prioritize my own well-being."

As you spoke those words, a heavy silence descended upon the room, punctuating the end of a chapter in your lives. The pain of parting, though agonizing, seemed to carry a semblance of closure. The room, once a space of shared dreams and memories, now bore witness to the painful conclusion of a relationship that had weathered too many storms.

He nodded, a somber acknowledgment of the consequences of his actions. "I know. I never meant to hurt you like this. If I could take it back, I would."

The air in the room hung heavy with the weight of a relationship on the precipice of its demise. Joel's desperate plea for forgiveness echoed in the silence, but the wounds were too fresh, and the trust too shattered to rebuild easily. You took a deep breath, a heaviness settling in your chest.

"Joel," you began, your voice steady but tinged with the pain of realization, "I appreciate your willingness to make amends, but the truth is, I can't see a way forward for us."

His eyes, once a source of comfort and love, now mirrored the anguish of a relationship slipping away. "I messed up, and I understand if you can't forgive me. But please, don't end us like this."

The sincerity in his voice tugged at the frayed edges of your heart, but you knew you couldn’t continue a relationship with him. You met his gaze, a mix of sadness and resolve in your eyes. "Joel, we had something special, something I cherished more than anything. But what we had is broken now. I can't ignore the betrayal, and I can't keep holding onto a past that's been tainted."

He reached for your hand, a desperate attempt to bridge the growing distance between you. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes, anything. I just can't imagine a future without you."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be transported back to a time when the future seemed boundless, and his gaze was a promise of forever. There was a time when you looked into his eyes and couldn't imagine a future where he wasn't a central part of it. But now, the love that had once felt unbreakable had shattered, leaving a void you weren't sure could be filled.

"I need to let go, Joel," you said, the weight of those words lingering in the room. "For my own sake, and for yours. We both need a chance to heal and find our own paths forward."

He nodded, a defeated acknowledgment of the reality you both faced. "I never thought we'd come to this," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret.

As the words settled, the room seemed to hold its breath. The love that had once been the anchor of your world now existed as a bittersweet memory. Joel, his gaze lowered, nodded with a heavy understanding.

"I won't forget what we had," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I'll always love you."

And with that, you uttered the finality that had been hanging between you. "Goodbye, Joel."

The door closed behind him, marking the end of a chapter that had once been a love story. The room, once a sanctuary for shared dreams, now bore witness to the closing of a door that could no longer be left ajar. In the aftermath of goodbye, the echoes of a love that once lingered, a poignant reminder of the fragility of connection and the resilience required to forge a new path forward.

tag list: @pertinentpostmortem @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @bastardmandennis @catchallfangirl @chaotic-mystery @beskarandblasters @amanitacowboy @littlegrungegirlaf @pamasaur @pedrodascal @sweetercalypso @ilovepedro @cool-iguana @pascalpvnk @alwaysmicado @lovers-liability @futuraa-free @morgaussy @pedritoferg @spookykoolkat @wethairjoel @chronically-ghosted @buckyispunk @pattwtf @morning-star-joy @elvinaa @tinycozycomfort @magpiepills @pr0ximamidnight @joelscurls @janaispunk @5oh5 @farmerlarrry @maximoff-forevermore @atinylittlepain @joeldjarin @spookyxsam @honey-dip-24 @hiroikegawa @mcira @mrsmando @hyzer34 @limerence4u @sin-djarin @reddedmiller @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa

[jesncin]

I appreciate most of your takes but don't understand how you look at a character like livewire, a character created in the middle of a 90's feminist movement and come to the conclusion she's supposed to a be a caricature of classical racist conservatism

?? huh is this an elaborate joke I'm missing out on?? Like you're roleplaying as a Shockateer? There's no tone indicators so I'm left to my own perception that you're being serious so I'll have to respond in seriousness. I'm gonna be so embarrassed if this is a joke :(((

So...just because a character is made "in the middle of the 90's" or "feminist movement" doesn't...mean they're a feminist character? Like with that logic, Tana Moon is a feminist icon I guess. Also "caricature of classical racist conservatism"? man, I kinda envy how people think the way I write her is Cartoony Evil Racism and not a toned down depiction of how personalities like Posie Parker, Matt Walsh, and Blaire White talk. I suppose I'm glad you haven't encountered anyone that awful. Good for you! 👍

Livewire meta under the cut fellas

I feel like you don't have a very holistic view of Livewire's character. Because while yes, she has been used for feminist critique in the show and comics, that's not all there is to her character. My take on Livewire is a commentary on how white womanhood intersects with parasocial internet grifts and the larger way identity gets filtered online. It's a take influenced by how she literally started out as a controversial provocative shock jock in STAS.

There's so much potential to re-imagine her hatred of Superman as a commentary on how white women feel justified in harassing marginalized men because it looks like a punch-up to misogyny. The way she uses the accident Superman caused as a way to white-woman-victimize herself and prime her audience to hate him more. You can take the spinoff comic where she only lets women speak on the air as her presenting a black and white, non-intersectional view of social progress. Kind of like how TERFs keep fantasizing about a world without men as a utopia? In CW Supergirl, Livewire plays into internalized misogyny and homophobia to jab at Supergirl. Not showing up for her fellow women if you ask me.

Because while yes, Leslie has been shown to be a character who had to deal with sexism, she's also a really compelling narrative for an imperfect victim. Just because a character deals with sexist hardship, doesn't mean it makes her a feminist ideal y'know? Leslie lashes out and weaponizes her victimhood, she uses her audience to bully others.

I think one of the flaws to the longevity of her character as a villain is because her narrow hatred of Supes makes her themes short lived. So I really want to expand it through Satoshi Kon-style deconstruction of how people juggle having multiple identities in the modern era. In the (bleh) Batgirl Burnside comic Livewire shows up in, she returns as a being of energy who doesn't remember who she was before. In STAS, it's left ambiguous whether she actually believes what she says about Superman or if it's all part of an act that "pays the bills!".

Imagine the opportunity to make it so she pieced together a sense of self from the fractured way her audience viewed her! What a great way to talk about how parasocial relationships make us think we know a person from the bombastic way they present themselves (Casually Comics thought of this brilliant take). DCSHG has been the most competent reimagining of Livewire. A perfect update of her shock jock origins into the internet era that revitalizes her attention-seeking traits into the clout-chasing grind of social media personality.

All this to say, Livewire's way more that just "sassy woman on the radio fighting against The Man!" I think making her a punk appropriating, rebellious, internet personality who uses her privilege to marginalize others for clout and money is a natural, more political progression of what DCSHG built with her character.

I don't really understand how you can look at a character whose most prominent iterations involve her bullying and targeting people (including other women) and tell me she's "feminist" unless you actually believe in Leslie's version of White Woman Girl Power. Any kind of "feminism" that touts Hating Men as a major point should be something to be critical of.

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 18 His Side Story

Chapter 18

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

Enis: "On the day of the end, Tanzanite will lose its God."

Enis: "The moon will disappear, and the people will awaken from a long dream."

Enis: "With the death of the eternal God."

The prophecy of the end, said to have been left by the first Living God, may have been a message sent by a past Living God to a future Living God.

That one day you will surely die –- it is the first mercy that the former god gives to the people, and it is also the last mercy that the current Living God gives, lamenting the decline caused by faith.

-

There is a sign of someone approaching in the quiet desert night.

I sat up, leaning against a pillar of the ruins.

Basil: Prince Azel, the transfer is complete.

Azel: Thank you for your hard work. Were the guests from Rhodolite behaving themselves?

Basil: Yes, they were very cooperative. I don't think there were any suspicious reactions.

Azel: That's good.

Basil: I think the other members will be back soon.

Azel: Yes, I'll be waiting.

(...With this, the preparations for the plan are complete.)

(There is no need to bind that woman with debt anymore.)

I let the guests from Rhodolite roam freely within the country for a while, but as expected, they were good at maneuvering and I couldn't see a definitive connection to Obsidian.

However, they are not completely able to hide their connection, so I decided to switch to a policy of having them stay quiet before the end.

(The problem is how to get that woman out of the temple.)

(...I hope she'll just leave quietly.)

Basil: Prince Azel. Over there... I think I see a light in the hallway...

(...!)

Turning around, there is a light moving down the hallway, just as Basil said.

(Is she awake?)

(From the looks of it, she's looking for me.)

The light is on the left side of the temple.

It seems she has entered the forbidden area.

(...This is troublesome at the very last moment.)

Azel: Basil, could you please tell everyone to wait outside?

Azel: It seems that an uninvited guest has entered that room.

-

––This vast space deep within the temple seems to have originally been a place where the god gathered believers and gave oracles.

It is said that the first Living God handled political affairs here, listened to people's troubles, and built the foundation of divination.

(Tanzanite began here.)

(I wonder how far into the future the first god saw...)

The woman who wandered into the sacred space puts a lantern on the table and picks up a document.

That paper, spun with confidential information, is the most important and prohibited item in this space.

Azel: ––Have you been looking?

Emma: !

(Why of all things would she look at that?)

Letting out a sigh, I call out to the woman's back.

She seems to be aware that she has seen something she shouldn't have, as she didn't react in her usual carefree manner.

Azel: I warned you not to enter, didn't I?

The woman, her body stiff, turns around awkwardly and opens her eyes wide.

Emma: Prince Azel... that outfit...

(To be preoccupied with my clothes first...)

It was prepared by Kamal as a symbol of the end of the era of gods and the arrival of the human world.

When I am involved in the plan, I dutifully change my clothes and switch my mind to "killing the god."

It's not as if anything changes just by changing clothes, but this outfit is lighter since I don't have to carry the weight of a god.

(But I don't intend to tell her that much.)

Azel: There are things you should be more concerned about than my clothes, aren't there?

As I approach, the woman backs away with a strained look on her face.

Still, I corner her against the wall and put my arms around her waist so I can give her the "medicine."

Azel: You touched a taboo.

Azel: Do you think you can get away with it?

Emma: ...What... what is the taboo...?

Emma: The prophecy, this room...

Even in the dim light, I can see the woman's expression contorted in agony.

For some reason, my chest hurts.

Azel: ...Why do you have that look on your face like you're about to cry?

Azel: I told you at the castle, didn't I? That it has nothing to do with you.

Azel: Tanzanite itself is a dream to you.

Azel: When you wake up, you'll forget everything and return to your everyday life in Rhodolite.

Emma: You think it has nothing to do with me... do you really think that?

Emma: You think it has nothing to do with me... do you really think that?

Emma: Humans aren't that heartless.

Emma: ...Now that we've made a connection...

(This is why good people are troublesome. They don't abandon others just because they are strangers.)

(No...)

(Am I truly a stranger to you?)

*remembering a moment from the past*

Emma: If I'm going to make it, I want Prince Azel to be happy with it, of course.

Azel: .....

(I can still turn back.)

(...I wish that were the case.)

Azel: I told you before, didn't I? That I can show people sweet dreams or maddening dreams.

Azel: Everything you're seeing now is a dream.

Emma: There's no way I'll be deceived by such words--

Azel: If I say it's a dream, it becomes a dream.

Azel: That's the Land of Illusions.

I flick the lid of the small bottle I had hidden in my hand and take the liquid inside into my mouth.

Before the woman could grasp the situation, I covered her unguarded mouth.

Emma: ...Nn!?

(It will all be a dream anyway.)

I subdue her resistance with force and pry open her lips, which were tightly sealed in refusal, with my tongue.

While she opened her mouth without thinking, I quickly poured the medicine in.

I deepen the kiss, pressing our lips together tightly so that she can't spit it out, and hold her close until the liquid flows down her throat.

(What kind of face should I make when she wakes up next?)

Gradually, the strength leaves the woman's body.

After confirming that the medicine has taken effect and releasing her face, she weakly grabs my collar.

Emma: ...The... worst...

Azel: Too late for that, isn't it? You were the first one to say it.

Azel: That I'm an evil God.

(It's all a bad dream. ...For you, and for me.)

(Please forget it.)

The woman's hand, which had been holding onto me, falls limply, and silence returns.

I support her collapsing body with my arm to prevent her from falling.

Azel: ...You could have just obediently waited for morning.

(Then I wouldn't have had to hurt you more than necessary.)

(It wouldn't have been so... unpleasant.)

(You hopelessly kind person...)

Azel: I really don't understand.

Azel: Why do you take other people's problems as your own?

Azel: ...Is that what a normal human is like?

Kamal: No, it's not.

(...Oh, you were there.)

Kamal, who had been leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed at some point, puffs on the cigar smoke he was holding between his fingers.

Perhaps only my brother couldn't suppress his curiosity about what had happened inside.

Kamal: A normal human wouldn't worry about you, a God.

Kamal: It's disrespectful. A God is a being who saves people, not a being to be saved.

Kamal: But the you reflected in her eyes is not a God.

Kamal: The one who held back tears and desperately searched for you is not a God.

Kamal: This is what it means to become close.

Azel: …How troublesome.

Azel: I have no intention of becoming close.

(I've always been the wicked god to women.)

(The reason I didn't hide my true nature from the beginning was so that I could break up with her without any lingering feelings in the end.)

(I've never been kind.)

(...I think.)

Kamal: Seriously?

Azel: Seriously.

Kamal: …Poor you.

(Yes, I admit it's sad.)

Azel: Don't expect a God to have human emotions.

Kamal: Hmm?

Azel: What?

Kamal: Hey, I was wondering… why did you ask Enis to explain?

Kamal: You should have been told about the prophecy of the end too, right?

(...You're sharp.)

(Even Emma didn't notice.)

Azel: It was just a bother.

Kamal: Is that all? No, it's not, is it?

Azel: …It doesn't matter.

Kamal: Answer me properly. It's important.

Azel: …

(...There's no deep meaning.)

(It's just that I knew from the beginning that woman wouldn't stay silent if I said something like "the god is going to die.")

Azel: ...............For some reason, it was hard to say.

Azel: That's all.

(Even if someone else delivered the message, the result wouldn't change.)

(I threw everything at Enis, who is better at handling women than me.)

(…I should have just left it all to him, but for some reason I chased after her, but that aside…)

(.....)

(Why do I become such a fool as soon as that woman is involved?)

Kamal: Ah, as I thought...

Kamal: God doesn't know, does he?

Azel: Know what?

Kamal: That emotion you're holding in your chest right now...

Kamal: That's from a human heart.

At my brother's words, I unknowingly gasp.

If this murky, muddled, irritating discomfort is called having a "human heart" ---

(Being an ordinary person isn't easy.)

.

.

.

Chapter 19

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[herebecritters]

I’ve got a ton of lore writings in the works and there’s a lot of little terms used by treefolk and by the trio. So here’s a handy guide in case anyone needs it.

THIS IS A LIVING DOCUMENT. There are sure to be edits and additions as time goes on.

Timeline

Dino-Sore Days

Period of time at the End of the Cretaceous Period before the meteor hit and the Death Curse began.

First Civilization

Period of time directly after the Meteor Strike and the Isles were formed. Cities built around the new Gods. Ends in extermination.

300 Year Colony

Period of time 66 million years after First Civilizations eradication. Years 1698 to 1998. Ends in extermination.

Current Era

Modern HTF as we know it.

Common knowledge

(Terms that most treefolks on the Isles will be familiar with)

The Isles: Also known as “The Isles of Da-rí-šè”, is a lush, multi-biomed cluster of islands hidden in the middle of the ocean and encompassed by a 66million year old Immortality Curse.

Critters/Treefolk: Sentient inhabitants of the world. Anthromorphic animals. Or “People” for lack of a better term.

Simple Beasts: Animals and creatures that live in the world who are not anthropomorphic characters. Pets, wildlife, ect.

Death Curse: The never ending loop of dying and regeneration experienced only within The Isles.

Blacking out: The sensation of losing consciousness and being unable to recall the specification of one’s own death on the Isles.

Death Hangover: The feeling one experiences when waking up alive after a death. Feelings of mental haze, disassociation, and a slight queasiness. Like you woke from a nightmare that you know you had but can’t seem to recall the details of it.

the Outside world/the real world/back home: No official word for this but many Treefolk tend to refer to the world and and their old life outside the Isles from time to time. As distant and far away as it now may seem to them…

Perma’d: the state of being dead without revival. Permanently dead.

Trio Terms

(Terms used among the trio or during the time of First Civilization and before.)

Holidays

(Holidays Celebrated during the First Civilization Era and still regarded by the Trio in private)

Day of Two Suns: New Year for the Critters of the First Civilization. Anniversary and Celebration of the day that the chixulub meteor hit the earth and ended the reign of the “Titans”. Transition from Spring into Summer.

Festival of Shedding: Summer into Autumn harvest festival and feast.

Nesting Day: Preparation of Autumn to Winter. Preparing the nest of Ki for the colder months.

Festival of Frogs: Winter into Spring festival when the frogs come out of hibernation.

Union: Solar Eclipse celebration

Bleeding Night: Lunar Eclipse Ritual to revive Theia from death with a chosen sacrifice.

Theology and Myths

Theia: The moon; deity of the Night and watcher of the small folk and critters.

Sâmâs: The Sun; deity of the Day

Ki: The Earth; Child of Theia and Sâmâs, asleep in the core of the planet.

Alagtila: The Idol of Life

Alagkana: The Idol of Misfortune

Alagumuna: The Idol of Blood

Dingirtila: Formal Title for the God of Life

Dingirkana: Formal Title for the God of Misfortune

Dingirumuna: Formal Title for the God of Blood

Egalkana: Temple of Misfortune

Egaltila: Temple of Life

Egalumuna: Temple of Blood

Mushhush: The name of Nergals monster form

Umamumurgu: Ancient beast of Rage and Fire sent by Sâmâs to protect the children of Theia from the Titans.

The World of the Curse

The Blood: Concentrated Suffering in the form of blood. Gives the idols their power.

The Wells: Underground rivers and lakes where the Blood is held. How full they are determines the amount of power the idols have.

Burrows: Series of tunnels deep below the Isles leading to the wells and to the Trios private chambers.

Hibernation: State of stasis where the trio can go long periods of time of inactivity to conserve Blood.

Ludari: “The Eternal People” The term used to describe the people who lived during the First Civilization before the Rebellion.

Lukurra: “Outsiders” Those who are not one of the three Idols. This term replaced Ludari after the rebellion.

Titans: The dinosaurs, pterosaurs, plesiosaurs, mosasaurs and other giant reptiles that went extinct after the meteorite hit.

Bonus

[aria-greenhoodie]

I’ve talked a lot about Abigale Blackwing and how I characterize her, but not so much about the other Anti-Cipherites… Let’s fix that!

Thurburt Mudget Waxstaff III - a clumsy and extremely passionate journalist and wannabe salesman (Couldn’t sell jack for shit without help from a certain demonic triangle, forever cursed to have only the worst possible ideas for how to pitch a sale). Can be EXTREMELY petty and spiteful, especially when he feels he or his friends have been wronged. Very pathetic, this man is a mess. Also extremely silly, one of the silliest men you will ever meet. The only reason he’s made it this far in life is because his whimsical nature makes his incompetence more endearing rather than annoying… that and his dad is rich. Has a… distant relationship with his father. Was always more of a mama’s boy, but his dad still finances his lifestyle while he tries (and fails) to keep a proper steady job. Only child (derogatory). Incredibly homosexual, never understood other men’s interest in women, was always enraptured by the men in his life. Tries to repress most of these emotions, due to societal pressures and legal restrictions on homosexual acts, but rest assured if he was alive today he’d be whoring it up with damn near any man he could find. Born to be a slightly problematic nepo baby in a giant gay polycule with drama and toxicity levels you could never even dream of, forced to be a failed journalist/salesman in the late 1800s, early 1900s plagued by triangles.

THINGS I ASSOCIATE WITH HIM - hydrangea flowers, rats and mice, snowy weather, jazzy piano music, the color light blue

Horace Broadshoulder - quiet and surprisingly soft spoken. Often used his sheer size as an intimidation tactic against those who have wronged his loved ones. Will not hesitate to punch a motherfucker for the people he cares about. The tough-guy persona easily melts away writhing a few minutes of talking to him, though. He’s a big sweetheart, very considerate and in-tune with his and other’s emotions. A lot of his tough-guy persona was created in response to growing up dealing with intense racism as a mixed race man in the Victorian and Edwardian eras, built in order to protect himself. His biggest dream is starting a family and raising the next generation to be smarter, stronger, and of above all else, kinder and more understandable than the current one. Has a bit of a temper towards strangers, but most of his friends and family have never seen him mad. The ones that have knew he was just trying to protect them (even if they think sending a man to the hospital over one rude comment about Horace’s sister is a bit extreme). Speaking of, Horace grew up with three sisters, one older and two younger. Loves his sisters to death, would give them the moon if he could. Really values family. Jessamine reminds him a lot of one of his younger sisters, gets along very well with her! He and his sisters were raised basically alone by his mother, funded by their wealthy father in secret. His father, as a white man of considerable influence, couldn’t risk being seen having relations with a black woman in a time of anti-race-mixing, so he rarely was in his children’s or his lover’s lives. Horace’s poor mother was head over heels for his father, but his father saw her more as a burden then anything else. Horace hates his father, low key, but would never tell his mother that. Horace is also bisexual, but wasn’t really aware of that till he met a certain pathetic journalist… cough cough…

THINGS I ASSOCIATE WITH HIM - chrysanthemum flowers, the smell of oak wood and freshly baked bread, the color peach

Jessamine Delilah Gulch - takes no shit, very no-nonsense. Raised in poverty and made a name for herself via the traveling western sideshow she joined as a teenager for extra cash. Has much more than “a bit” of a temper. Used to be known as “Trigger-Jolly Jessie” in her small home town due to her habit of “accidentally” shooting people in the leg or hip when they did something that pissed her off. It’s a wonder she never got apprehended for that, actually. Was taught to use a gun at a very young age by her uncle, who raised her along with her aunt. Her father was a drunk and her mother was institutionalized just one year after Jessamine’s birth for “hysteria.” Her uncle (her mother’s brother) and aunt took her in to protect her from her father’s drunkenness, even though they didn’t have a lot of money to spare to raise a child that wasn’t technically their’s. Has a massive respect for her uncle and aunt, but couldn’t stay with them for longer than what was absolutely necessary due to her not wanting to burden them. Always dreamed of becoming a famous singer and actress, but settled for being a sideshow’s sharpshooter in order to make ends meet. Many describe her as “severe” or “frigid,” but she absolutely melts around those she trusts, especially her dearest Abigale. Abbey loves her far more passionately and sweetly than any man could, she’s sure of that! Absolutely a lesbian, probably also on the grey-romantic spectrum too. No one has ever nor could ever catch her heart like Abigale has. She also has a puppy! Her name is Rosie, she was a mutt Jessamine found in her time on the road, and decided to take in. She’s a feisty little thing, but such a sweetheart!

THINGS I ASSOCIATE WITH HER - royston turquoise stone, daffodil flowers, hunting dogs, sherif stars, revolver pistols (specifically the U.S. Cavalry 1873 Henry Nettleton Revolver), the color grass green

Father Tinsley O’Pimm - a drunkard and a former man of the faith with no faith left in him. His family was middle-class and severely religious and suspected him of being gay at a young age, so they sorta forced him into training to be and eventually becoming a priest in order to “fix” him, or at the very least prevent him from doing gay shit. Never knew what he wanted to do when he grew up, so he sorta allowed his parents to set his life up for him without much complaint, even though he really didn’t like being a priest. Is now incredibly bitter and jaded about life in general, and no longer speaks to his family. Took up drinking in secret to ease the agony of living a life that was never truly his, but was eventually found out and excommunicated from the church. Clings desperately to his former-priest status, not because he truly believes in God nor because he liked being a priest, but rather just because he doesn’t know what else he would have been if not that. This man is going through it. Arguably the most sane of the Anti-Cipherites, when he’s sober anyway. Also the oldest, and often feels like he has to wrangle the rest of the society in at times. Extremely starved for love and affection. Discovers a love of gossip while talking to Abigale, as well as his love of men through two particular men in the society… guess his parents were right about one thing. Would never dare act on these emotions under normal circumstances, and starts actually sobering up a bit in order to prevent any “slips” from himself under the influence.

THINGS I ASSOCIATE WITH HIM - pomegranates, candles, golden jewelry, ruby stones, pigeons, the color red

Abigale Blackwing - eccentric, loud, and infectiously passionate. Born to a wealthy couple, her mother died tragically in childbirth, leaving her architect father to raise her alone. She was his world, and he did anything and everything to set her up for the most happy and fulfilling life possible. Crossdressed for much of her adolescence in order to sneak into prestigious engineering schools that did not accept women, backed up by documents her father forged for her. Completely fell in love with machines, wanted to dedicate her entire life to making mechanical marvels the likes of which no one has ever seen before! Youngest of the Anti-Cipherites, and also the most enthusiastic. Besides machinery and mechanics, Abigale also has an interest in fashion, as well as a love of gossip. God, she loves to gossip. She’ll talk your ear off for hours about some juicy new scoop she found out about that day, and when she’s done, she’ll talk your OTHER ear off about her newest invention and how it works. No sense of self-preservation, she’s blown herself up and set herself on fire for the sake of her inventions more times than she can count. It’s a wonder she’s even still alive. No regard for the law, she is ruled by her own wants and that’s it. Very touchy, especially for a woman in the Edwardian era. Always holding or grabbing or patting the shoulder of her friends. Also prone to playfully punching or swatting her pals while joking around, unfortunately also prone to forgetting her strength and accidentally hurting them (“Oh dear, I’m so sorry Thurburt, I hadn’t meant to hit you so hard!” “Oh no no no, that’s quite alright Abigale! You’ve got quite the arm there, haha! Ha… ow…”). Knew from a very young age that she had no interest in men, and a LOT of interest in women. Tried to court a few young women in her crossdressing days, but always felt terribly about having to lie to them about her true identity. When she met Jessamine, she fell completely head-over-heels crazy in love with her after only a few days. Obsessed with that woman, would litterally blot out the sun for her if she asked.

THINGS I ASSOCIATE WITH HER - allium flowers, gears and mechanisms, birds (specifically corvids like crows, ravens, and magpies), the moon, comets, the color purple

[farfromstrange]

‘I Love You In Every Universe’

Chapter One: I Bet On Losing Dogs

Masterlist | List Of Installments

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Mutant!Reader

Summary: The day you lost Matt, you lost everything. There is no moving on from what Spider-Man put you through, and you plan to execute your revenge.

Warnings: ANGST, Major Character Death, blood, suicidal thoughts, mutant!Reader, evil Peter Parker, 18+ because of darker themes, multiverse (No Way Home Era), slight AU

Word Count: 5.8k

A/n: FINALLY! This took me way too long to edit. Today, we’re setting the scene for future installments, but you’re not getting all the details, even if the first 3000 words of this are somewhat a flashback. So, if you think that there is too little dialogue for a Prologue, that’s probably why. This chapter is integral to the future installments.

Read Me On AO3!

The world was silent when he died—an endless pit of nothingness, and above a sky full of stars. 

You don’t remember if it was raining. The moon was hiding behind a thick cloud, and the stars were burning, but you can’t remember if you were drowning in a river of tears or if it was the sky that broke that night. Everything else about that night, you remember quite vividly.

Hell’s Kitchen had become a battleground. The city lay at your feet in shambles; Wilson Fisk had become mayor after you tried hard to stop him, and the world fell apart. But it was his second in command, Peter Parker, who gave new meaning to the word ‘notorious’. Spider-Man infested your home like a parasite, slipping through your finger like dry sand. He knew what he was doing. He and Fisk held the city in the palms of their dirty hands, slowly crushing it like mealy little ants. 

When you met Matt Murdock, it was years back when things were still better, yet they were never perfect. He found you broken at the side of the road—or that was what it felt like, anyway. 

From the start, you have always been different. In a world where everyone wanted to be someone, your uniqueness painted a target on your back. Your nature was misunderstood by most; they either wanted to be you, or they were vying for your inevitable downfall. 

You stood out of every crowd. The target on your back remained no matter how hard you tried to turn yourself into a shrouded mystery. Eventually, you had to start running. You operated out of the dark like a criminal—a vigilante, and a mind-reader who could set the world on fire if she only tried hard enough. 

For most of your life, you were hunted. Scientists wanted to run experiments on you, tie you to a gurney, and study your brain until they understood how your abilities worked. Freaks wanted to sell you for millions to equally disturbed individuals. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were merely a scared child who grew into a terrified teenager who didn’t know any better: dead parents, dead everything, and a mind built to read those of others. 

Back then, your only instinct was blatant survival, so you ran. You ran fast and you ran far, an orphan so many would have rather seen dead than operating in the dark, but oh, you had to become something to feel like you were worth something.

When you landed in New York, beaten and alone with a bone-crushing fear of the future, the Devil found you, taking you home with him. He saved you. He picked up your pieces, glued you back together, and wrapped you in a protective glaze. All the heartbreak you’d endured, and the trauma you’d suffered getting there seemed worth it whenever he held you in his arms. 

You were Matt Murdock’s world, and he was yours. He showed you heaven and hell; he saved you from the purgatory you pushed yourself into and got you settled with a one-way ticket to paradise. After all these years, you finally found your salvation in a person.

He was your broken Catholic boy with a heart made out of gold. The universe didn’t deserve him, and yet he gave the world everything he had. He sacrificed his soul to God and his city. He prayed, he begged, and he fought hard for what he believed right at the time. 

Matt saw himself as the Devil; embodied him, too. Though in your eyes, he was an angel with an invisible halo only you could feel in every fiber of your being. His thoughts, his heart, and his soul; he gave it all to you.

You cherished him with all you could give him. It wasn’t much, but he loved you more than anyone had ever before. You were more than a mutant, more than a broken girl at the side of the road, and more than a potential test subject. With him, you finally learned what living was like—what it was supposed to feel like to be human.

The world tried to clip your wings. They took away your voice and your ability to breathe. Matt brought you back to life. He was not the love of your life; Matt Murdock was your soulmate. You lived for him. You existed for him. He was your heart, your soul, and the reason for your survival. 

It wasn’t healthy, how dependent you were on him. He made you see colors you couldn’t see with anyone else. You loved him fiercely. You loved him in a way that was pure agony. And you loved him in a way that you knew would screw you up forever.

It didn’t cross your mind that you could ever lose him. To you, Matt Murdock was immortal. He was the man you could see yourself growing old with. 

You got married in a small ceremony at the courthouse—it wasn’t just for love, it was also convenient, but he forever tied himself to you as you tied yourself to him with a golden wedding band—and you talked about maybe having children one day. A mini-you and a mini-him in your little farmhouse in the suburbs. For that, he would have left Hell’s Kitchen once it was safe enough to do so.

It was a foolish dream now that you think about it; you were foolish to think that happiness would ever be in the cards for you, but then he kissed you again, good morning and good night and in between, and all you could see was a sea of roses. 

He walked through fire (sometimes literally) for you and came back on the other side, hardly always unscathed but always alive, and always with a smile on his chapped lips. He crawled home to you even when he was broken. He crawled home to you when he was full of adrenaline. And he crawled home to you when he thought he couldn’t or wouldn’t anymore, both mentally and physically. He knew he could always come home to you, his best friend, his lover, his confidant, and soon enough, his wife.

You stitched his wounds and kissed his scars to breathe new life into him. You brought him back from the edge. You gave him something to live for. He told you that you saved him, and hearing that after getting on your knees every night, thanking him for the same thing, did something to you. It healed you from the inside out.

You kept him alive the same way he did you. You stood strong together against your enemies every night, fighting as a team. He taught you how to fight, and you taught him how to connect. Matt didn’t know what it was like not to push someone he loved away, but you made sure he understood. He connected to himself; he connected to his past, present, and future with you, and that made him a better man. 

You lost and you won, but at least you had each other to fall back on. You did it together. You did everything together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Husband and wife. Lady Red and Daredevil.

The fragile little yet oh-so-big thing you had was raw, vulnerable, yet the most tragically beautiful love affair you could have possibly had the pleasure of calling yours. And pleasure, you had plenty. Love, you had plenty. You had everything until everything was ripped from your bare hands—until the very thing sustaining you shattered on a white cloth, spilling crimson blood everywhere, and what you swore could only be pried from your cold, dead hands slipped away in a moment in time. 

You both died, in a way, but it was Matt’s body you held as he took his last breaths in the dead of a hot summer’s night. You can’t remember if it rained, but he was certainly drowning in your tears.

“He’s going to kill you,” you warned him. “Parker and Fisk are out to destroy you. If Spider-Man sees you with your guard down, he won’t hesitate.”

Matt slid his skilled fingers into his pair of leather gloves. They were worn down, but they smelled like him. You could feel the unease sizzling in the pit of your stomach—a parasite. 

“I have to do this,” he told you, his voice laden. “The bastard is ruining innocent lives in my city. I can’t stand idly by and let it happen.”

You weren’t fighting, but the statement still hung deafeningly loud in the room, hanging itself from the ceiling with a noose that was threatening to take you down with it. 

“He challenged you because he knows you’d do anything—” 

He cut  you off, “He’s underestimating me.”

You stared into his eyes. It hurt. It hurt so much. The dark cloud was heading straight for you, but he couldn’t sense it. “You almost died the last time you came face-to-face with him,” you tried again.

“So did you,” he said. “Fisk is nothing without Spider-Man behind him, and those two have done enough damage already.”

“Matt, please—”

“I have to, sweetheart. This is the only way.”

“There is always another way.”

He shook his head. “Not this time. The city is about to fall. If I let them win, there is no coming back from this. You know that.”

“At least let me come with you then,” you said. You begged him to listen, but he wouldn’t see how worried you were. “We’ve been through hell together. We can fight this war together, too.”

“No,” Matt insisted. “He will see an easy target. You mean too much to me. Spider-Man is gonna use you to get through to me. I can do this. You just have to trust me.”

“I trust you. It’s him I don’t.”

“I’m gonna talk to him, and if I have to fight him again for the whole fucking world to see, so be it.”

The words slipped you before you could stop them, cutting through the air like a sharp-edged sword. “What if you die trying?” 

He stopped dead in his tracks.

“I don’t want to lose you!” you cried. 

You had not cried in front of him often before that night, but your walls cracked, and you broke. 

Matt cradled your face as he whispered, begging you to listen, “You won’t. I promise. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

The invisible string pulled you tighter together. Fear, anger, and desperation; he felt so many things—so many things running deeper than the ocean—but you swallowed them. 

“I’m not okay with this,” you murmured.

“I know. Here–” he guided your hands to his face, “Feel me,” he said.

You remember gasping when the floodgates opened. “I always feel you.” 

You stroked his delicate cheeks. He was here, home with you; why couldn’t he stay like that forever? Why did you have to let him go? Past, present, and future began to blur. 

I love you. He tuned out all other thoughts so you could hear him.

He was praying. He was hoping. Only a handful of times had he felt this way. You were so tightly interlaced that you could feel all of him without even trying, but that night, you tried. That night, he tuned out all of his self-deprecating thoughts. He allowed the silence of your connection to engulf him—for the city to disappear, and he allowed you in. 

I love you so much. Do you hear me? You’re everything to me. I love you.

Those three words weighed heavy like bricks on your heart. 

“Remember, three knocks,” he said aloud. “Don’t open for anyone else.”

“Three knocks,” you whispered in agreement. 

Three knocks like three words: I love you.

You read his mind, swallowing the words, but a big part of you wanted to spit them back out. You didn’t want to hear it. The universe was sending you a warning sign. 

Matt exhaled. He cupped your hands in his. The connection deepened, the string pulled tighter, and you became one. That night was the first night you saw glimpses of the future, and you didn’t want to accept it. You were such a fool to think everything could ever be fucking alright, both for you and for this magnificent force of a man you chose to call home—because home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling, and often enough, it’s a person.

He nuzzled his nose against yours. He kissed you. Softly, gently, passionately. You kissed him like you knew it would be the last time.

“I love you,” he repeated. 

The red flags waved, but you looked away. “I don’t want to say it back because you have to come back to me,” you confessed, “and this feels too much like a goodbye.”

He forced you to look at him instead. “Say it back, baby.”

“I love you,” you caved.

You shouldn’t have. You should have put up more of a fight. 

I will always come back to you. Cross my heart. He crossed his heart, but he hoped too much to die. Perhaps in not saying it out loud, he thought the truth would hurt less.

You refused to believe it until time had run out. You refused to cave until it happened. And when it happened, the city, for the first time since you’d arrived there, went completely quiet.

You followed him. Of course, you did. After a few hours of pacing the floor, you followed him. He was still in your head. You heard him from across the city, his thoughts loud and clear, and you could feel his pain like an inferno lighting up the night sky. 

When you arrived on that godforsaken rooftop though, you could only watch in horror as Spider-Man lifted the love of your life toward the sky. He wouldn’t accept your bargain. You offered yourself instead of him, but no; Peter Parker was not in the mood for bargaining. 

He lifted Matt toward the sky, and he drilled the dagger right through his chest. 

“No!” you screamed again. 

Silence. 

His blood ran through your fingers like quicksand, and sitting there, cradling Matt’s chest to yours as his heartbeat slowly faded into oblivion, you knew the end was near. The world could be so fucking unfair. You both died, but it was only his heart that stopped. You lost him that night, and your entire world stopped in an instant. 

You liked it better when he was angry with you. When he was loud, when he was laughing, even when he was just being sarcastic. You liked him better when he was alive. He turned into a ghost in your arms, forever and all eternity, and you fell face-first into the abyss. 

Maybe it was raining that night. Maybe you were being buried under the weight of your guilt and the never-ending flow of your tears. 

“I can’t…” you sobbed, tracing his cold cheek as the rain fell around you. “I can’t feel you.”

His heart stopped beating, and the invisible string pulverized. You watched it as it went with the wind. Without him. Without you. 

You screamed until your lungs gave out. Then, silence settled in. 

The night was quiet when he died; nothing but a sky full of stars and the endless black pit of death above and below you. 

The blood and his missing pulse weren’t the worst part, by far; the worst part was that you could no longer feel him, and that thought won’t ever not haunt you. 

You were certain that night. When you lost him, and you screamed your heart out, praying to a God you’ve never believed in, you swore to yourself that you would avenge him.

You were going to kill Peter Parker, and nothing in this world could ever stop you from watching this miserable motherfucker bleed to death. 

The bed shakes violently as you awaken. Dreams, so many dreams. Your nights are far from peaceful. They haven’t been for weeks. Months. What day is it? You don’t remember. 

Nightmares follow you like hunters after a fox. Your pajamas stick to your skin, and you’re sweating even though it is spring, and spring doesn’t have hot enough temperatures for you to be sweating quite like this. When you pull the comforter away in a sudden panic, the wetness seeping into your skin, there is nothing but white. No blood, no tears, just gaping emptiness in the farmhouse.

You pant heavily, dragging your nails across your skin. Your fingernails are tinted a charcoal black. In your heart, there had once been a bright red glow—like a ruby crystal sustaining your soul. You used it to channel other people’s thoughts. You could read them, you could hear them, and you could feel them. That Ruby has gone out now though; it has turned into a black smoke threatening to overtake anything it comes in contact with. 

The sun isn’t strong enough to break through the gray clouds. As you step out into the garden that stretches around your home, a gentle wind brushes through the bare branches of the dead trees. The wood is starting to splinter, turning hollow as sickness after sickness runs rampant through nature. 

You trace a finger over the poison ivy that has grown over the tombstone. The green fades, turning into a rotten brown. It dries out, and it dies right before your eyes, as do the roses you have been keeping in a vase ever since you laid a finger on the last bouquet. 

He liked the smell of roses, but you hated the look of it until Matt died, and suddenly, everything looked and smelled like a field of roses, reminding you of him. He was your daisy, your sunflower, setting fire to your freezing soul. He was sunshine, you were midnight rain. He liked to claim differently, but you wouldn’t let him. You may have been his sunshine, but out of the both of you, he shone the brightest. 

The poison ivy dies, and if you even manage to kill a plant with the word ‘poison’ in its name, what does that say about you? What has become of you; plotting a stranger’s death and killing the nature around you as you dive into books about mind-reading and dark magic to understand who you truly are? Dark magic sounds like a story out of a piece of fiction, but it’s far from that. 

You’ve known of your ability to manipulate the human mind ever since you discovered the creature hidden within you, the one who could touch another human being and see their thoughts so clearly. The one time you tried to manipulate someone, you caused them indescribably agony. You ruined their life. You broke them. You made them complicit and took all they were away from them, turning their fragile mind into ashes. That day, your fingers turned charcoal for the first time. 

If you try hard enough, you can kill him—Peter Parker. He took your husband and your city, now sitting in his ivory tower, overlooking the damage he’s done. He killed everyone and everything, even Wilson Fisk. He has taken the people of Hell’s Kitchen hostage, but no one has dared to make a move just yet, not since their beloved Daredevil disappeared off the face of the earth. With him, his Lady Red went as fast as she had come. 

You don’t want to fix what Spider-Man destroyed; you can’t get back what he took, nor do you want to, and the city doesn’t mean anything without Matt in it. 

You have to be the monster to kill another monster, only then you can join your husband in his tomb. Didn’t you vow to stay together, even in death? 

The city can burn, for all you care, but first, Peter Parker has to die. 

You scratch at the dirt in the engraving of his name. Matthew Michael Murdock. 1982 — 2023. Beloved husband and hero. 

You hate this. You hate that his grave is in your backyard, but this was the only place you knew his corpse would be safest. No one can touch him here, and you can talk to him, pretending you can still feel him. If you focus hard enough, you can still hear his voice in your head, telling you to move on. 

How could you though? How could you abandon all you’ve been through? You can fight, you can win or lose, but nothing will ever be the same again. And it is far from worth it to stay alive when he isn’t. You’ve made your decision; whether or not you’ve come to peace with it, that’s another story entirely. 

“Tonight is the night,” you murmur to the gravestone. Of course, you don’t receive an answer. 

Lately, you have been swearing to yourself you wouldn’t cry anymore, that there are no more tears left to shed, but every day, you end up crying anyway. It’s an endless cycle of despair.

You wipe your cheeks, untangling the chain that holds your golden wedding band close to your chest from around your neck. Gently, you guide it to your lips and press a kiss against the ring. 

“I love you,” you whisper.

For when you meet again in another life. 

You dig a small hole into the dry dirt where, six feet under, Matt is resting now. He always told you he would end up in hell when he died. You were never particularly religious before you met him, and when he struggled with his faith while you were together, you believed even less in an all-merciful God. Now though, with Matt gone and the world on the verge of falling apart and crushing you under its weight as you approach the biggest challenge of your life, the thought of ending up in an eternal life of nothingness after death—the thought of there being nothing but mindless darkness, no body, soul—scares you too much. Imagining the pits of hell or paradise with the love of your life, and reuniting with him, is a prospect you would rather see when you close your eyes than a world on fire. 

The necklace lands in the hole, and you cover it up. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of your ring before, but you won’t risk carrying it when you do what you are about to do.

Tonight, Peter Parker is going to show himself to all of New York City as the new mayor in all of his Spider-Man glory. He begged for you to come out, and he told the city he would be merciful in prosecuting you for the crimes you committed in the past alongside Daredevil. When you come out tonight though, you won’t surrender yourself. You will use the platform he is giving you and you will fight as you reveal him to Hell’s Kitchen and show the world who he is. You will tell Matt’s story, even if it’s the last thing you do. 

You have been burning for him for the longest time, and the flame is about to go out with a bang. 

That night, you put on the red suit Melvin made for you years ago before he lost his mind for what might be the last time. It has holes from where the moths dug their teeth into. The piece around the waist is starting to fade in color, and the leather is worn out, but it reminds you of simpler times. Better times. The black of your fingertips matches the lining of your outfit, and that’s all you need to feel the power sizzle deep within you.

You don’t have to remember the weather report because you can feel the rain soaking your skin through the fabric. The air smells salty, and it tastes the same on your cracked lips. Tonight, you will be Lady Red for the last time. Until the bitter end, you have sworn yourself. Matt did the same thing. You have to do him proud.

You make your way from that little farmhouse—your broken red castle—to the familiar streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Destruction surrounds you. The news didn’t do justice to what Peter has done to the city you once loved. But no one loved it more than Matt Murdock. 

Your fists clench at your sides. Oh, you want to tear this man limb by limb and feed him to the dogs. 

It starts with a low rumbling beneath your boots. You don’t pay much mind to it at first. You hide out on a rooftop across the courthouse. The spotlights are on, and he’s standing there at the podium, looking as though he is so proud of himself for ruining so many lives. You don’t usually experience joy when hurting people, but you will savor watching the life drain from Peter’s lifeless eyes. 

Your hands clench around Matt’s batons. The metal is heavy but flexible. You click your nails against them. Every move needs to be meticulously calculated, but tonight, the barons will remain in the holsters on your thighs. You won’t need them. You won’t need anything but your bare hands. 

You’re going back to your roots tonight.

The ground moves slightly, only a few inches. You could have missed it if you weren’t crouching to get a better look at the world below you. You catch yourself on the ledge, a frown finding its way on your face. 

“What the f–” you shake your head. Since when does thunder shake the ground?

You seem to be the only one who notices, or Peter Parker is better at brainwashing his decibels than you expected. He was born to be a dictator. His presence turned your fairytale into a dystopian tragedy.

“Tonight,” he says into his microphone, “is the last chance for Lady Red to reveal herself for a lesser sentence. A new era is on the horizon. I am your mayor, and I am Spider-Man. Without me, you would be nothing. Daredevil couldn’t save you. Wilson Fisk couldn’t save you. But I can, and after tonight, we will start anew. For this is the era of real heroes as we rebuild this city from the ground up, and we turn the City of New York, including Hell’s Kitchen, into its own world. Starting with the arrest of the criminal who is Daredevil’s accomplice Lady Red. I hope for her sake she will show herself tonight. If not, we will find her, and she will suffer the full extent of the consequences of her actions. That includes the Death Penalty.”

You land gracefully, catching yourself with your hand on the asphalt. The crowd parts with a gasp, and you finally stare into his eyes. 

After he drilled that dagger through Matt’s heart, he told you, “You will always be a monster, never a God.”

You deserve nothing, he thought. It has stuck with you since that night. Growing up, it was the only thing you heard. You were nothing but trash. A disgrace. A monster. What will they say when they see that you have finally become what they feared so much? 

You will burn down whatever is left of the world, including him. God knows you want to. 

Magic pulsates in the atmosphere like a growing spell in a small shoe box. The air vibrates, and the ground shakes again. This isn’t your doing, but the sudden charge that fills your veins as adrenaline sustains you. Your eyes glow red. This is who you were born to be. 

“I heard you were looking for me,” you declare. 

He doesn’t look surprised to see you. “Ah, just like clockwork,” he murmurs. “Are you going to make this hard on all of us or are you here to finally surrender yourself?” 

You purse your lips, playing with the energy between your fingers. “I came to destroy you.” Each step toward him on the big marble steps feels like a mile, and the crowd starts to move further back, dispersing in an attempt to save themselves. Most of them are eager to watch though. What has he done to them? 

“Destroy me?” Peter laughs, addressing the crowd again, “You see who you’ve been calling a hero all this time? This mutant? Look at her!”

All eyes are on you. They’re whispering. They’re speculating. Their thoughts overlap in disarray, and you’re drowning in a sea of judgment. They are trying to tear you down like sharks. You’re leaking blood, and God, they are angry. But it’s not you they’re angry at.

“You call me a mutant,” you say, “but wasn’t it you who was bit by a radioactive spider?”

His smile fades. 

“You are Spider-Man, no?”

“You are a wannabe hero with unregulated powers,” he snaps. His voice roars through the speakers, and the mood in the crowd starts to shift.

The ground vibrates again, stronger this time. You can’t be the only one feeling the quakes, but everyone else seems unmoved. They’re too focused on both of you to notice anything else, and you should do the same. However, the energy doubles and you are closer to bursting than ever. Something is happening, and you have no control over it.

Peter sneers. “You’re a failure,” he calls your name, “just like your husband!”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your eyes darken. “If you want to enforce the death penalty on me, Parker,” you growl, “why don’t you do it yourself?” 

Peter taps his chest, and his suit transforms into shades of black and spider webs. At that moment, panic erupts. People start running, but you tune them out.

The air begins to smell sour. Burnt. It is so high the pain consumes you whole. He doesn’t have to touch you to bring you to your knees, but looking up, you realize that it wasn’t Spider-Man who infused your ears with such a high frequency.

Someone is uttering a powerful spell, you can hear his voice in your head as he thinks of several names all over the place. Time passes by in a flash. Hours, days, weeks, and months. The universe falls out of control. The beeping picks up and you sink deeper into the ground.

You swear then and there that the sky starts to rip in two. The sky resembles a nasty cut on your forehead, a pair of hands ripping the cut further apart, causing the blood to pour out in rivers.

One of the cuts swallows you. With a scream, you fall through several rollercoasters passing by violet stars. 

The cut is a portal; one moment, you are flying through the sky at the highest possible speed, and the next, you hit the ground hard.

It’s not raining anymore. The sun shines down on you, and the heat creeps up your skin like tiny ants. The pain finally releases, but your head is still spinning. So many feelings, so many voices, and so many thoughts threaten to overwhelm you.

Not even an LSD trip hits that bad. You lazily open your heavy eyes to find not the courthouse but the New York skyline right before you.

You look down at your shaky hands. The charcoal is gone. The power in your veins feels different, all-consuming, but in no way bad. You take a deep breath. Even the oxygen tastes different. 

The world stops spinning, and you finally take a look around. A car honks, an SUV heading straight for your wobbly frame.

You’re in the middle of a road. What is it? A freeway.

Oh, shit!

You jump aside, hitting the sidewalk with a loud thud.

“Watch out, bitch!” the driver shouts out of his window. 

Where once used to be the courthouse, you are met with a street in the middle of downtown Hell’s Kitchen, New York. Stores line the side of the street. Tourists, foreigners, and those who are native to the city pass by you, and their gasps and whispers sound so different from the automatic voices Peter Parker raised them to be.

“Oh, no,” you breathe out. “Oh, no, no, no!” The air is getting thinner. 

“What are you thinking about, hm?” he asked into the darkness of the room. 

His heartbeat aligned with yours. His calloused fingertips traced your bare skin. You were in heaven. Beautiful, sinful heaven.  

His jawline appeared even sharper in the colorful lights from the billboard outside. His skin glowed white—paler than usual, even. You could stare into his eyes forever, such a beautiful hazel with hints of forest green. Perfect eyebrows, perfect lips. They bowed at the top, so kissable.

He pressed them to your bare shoulder blade, down your spine. The butterflies danced crazy in your tummy.

“You’re distracted,” he hummed again.

You chuckled, looking over your shoulder at the beautiful man in bed with you.

“Can’t help it when I’m with you,” you remember saying. 

Matt offered you his signature smirk. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I quite like the view.”

“And when I do this?” He trailed another finger down your sensitive spine. 

You shuddered. “That, too.”

He did it again. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“Thinking,” you said.

“About what?” he asked.

“A book I read.” You paused to turn on your back. “About the multiverse.”

It was a surprising change in subject, and he raised his eyebrows in a rather amused way. “The multiverse?” 

You nodded. “We know way too little about it. There could be more of me and more of you out there, and we don’t even know it,” you told him. “The multiverse… there is a chance it could be real. And that alone is terrifying because if it opens and we’re not prepared, chaos might ensue.”

He propped himself up on his elbow next to you, listening to the calming sound of your voice. It was always his favorite thing to do.

Matt used your voice as his podcast; it was his favorite, too. 

“Can we jump universes?” he wondered.

You shrugged. You didn’t know, at least not at the time. “Maybe,” you said. “But I’m not a scientist, let alone good at physics, so… let’s just go back to kissing. I’m much better at that.”

He laughed, but he did not object. At least with kissing, you both knew what you were doing. So, he brought his lips to yours, and the multiverse disappeared in a Bermuda Triangle of pleasure in your mind. Lost but not forgotten. 

Maybe.

But as you sit there, sliding back against the brick wall in the closest alley, you realize that you downplayed the probability. 

You were going to kill a man, but instead of blood on your hands, you are now cursed with the knowledge that the ‘maybe’ of your once-thought-silly pillow talk has always been very fucking real, and you have nowhere to run in this strange world you have fallen into that is New York City, Earth-616. 

Where do you run when you can go anywhere, just not home? 

Tagging: @nk1023 @sarahskywalker-amidala @ignore-mp3 @imonabitchparade @familyvideowithsteve @eyelessdemon