#Conductor holders

[jimitjain]

Types of Conductors and Their Applications in Modern Infrastructure

In modern infrastructure, from high-rise buildings to solar farms and large-scale industrial plants, conductors are vital components that ensure the safe and efficient flow of electricity. Conductors not only carry electric current but also help prevent power losses, voltage drops, and electrical hazards.

With rapid advancements in infrastructure and the growing demand for robust power systems, selecting the right conductor is no longer just a technical choice—it’s a strategic decision. In this blog, we break down the most common types of conductors used across industries and discuss where and why each one is used.

1. Aluminum Conductor

Aluminum conductors are widely used in overhead power lines, utility poles, and power transmission networks due to their lightweight properties and cost-effectiveness. Though aluminum has around 60% of the conductivity of copper, its lower density means it can span greater distances with less sag.

Key Benefits:

Cost-effective for large-scale projects

Lightweight, reducing installation complexity

Corrosion-resistant when properly treated

Ideal for overhead and high-voltage applications

Typical Applications:

Utility power distribution

Overhead transmission lines (AAC, AAAC, ACSR)

Electrification of railways and rural networks

When bulk sourcing aluminum conductors, ensure they comply with IS or ASTM standards and request tensile strength reports for overhead applications.

2. Copper Bonded Conductor

Copper bonded conductors feature a steel core coated with a layer of high-purity copper. This design offers excellent conductivity on the outside and mechanical strength at the core. These conductors are perfect for earthing and grounding systems, especially in environments where theft or corrosion is a concern.

Advantages:

Cost-effective alternative to pure copper

Resistant to corrosion and theft

High mechanical strength, ideal for deep earthing

Long service life in harsh conditions

Used In:

Telecommunication grounding systems

Wind and solar farms

Substations and transmission grounding

Lightning protection systems

Always check the copper coating thickness (commonly 0.25 mm or 0.5 mm) and conductivity rating when purchasing in bulk for infrastructure projects.

3. Bare Stranded Copper Conductor

Bare stranded copper conductors are composed of multiple strands of copper wire twisted together. They offer maximum conductivity, flexibility, and heat resistance, making them the go-to choice for many industrial and infrastructure-grade applications.

Why It’s Popular:

Highest electrical conductivity among metals

Excellent for both earthing and current-carrying applications

Easy to install and shape into complex routes

Recyclable and sustainable

Applications Include:

Substation grounding grids

Lightning protection systems

Cable earthing in commercial and industrial buildings

Grounding for sensitive electrical equipment

For large-scale purchases, make sure the conductors are tested for purity (99.9% copper), flexibility, and tensile strength. Pipex supplies annealed and hard-drawn variants based on project requirements.

4. Conductor Holder

Every good conductor installation requires a reliable holding system, which is where conductor holderscome into play. These mechanical accessories secure conductors to surfaces, ensuring proper alignment, safety, and durability.

Holder Functions:

Prevent sagging, displacement, or mechanical damage

Maintain electrical continuity and minimize resistance

Provide stability against wind, vibration, or weather impacts

Material Options:

Galvanized Iron (GI)

Stainless Steel

Polymer or insulated plastic

Whether you’re installing copper, aluminum, or stainless steel conductors, using the right holder increases system reliability and extends conductor life. Pipex offers conductor holders in various shapes and mounting formats for both vertical and horizontal installations.

5. Stainless Steel Conductor

Stainless steel conductors are specifically used in corrosive, marine, and chemical environments where regular conductors would degrade quickly. While their electrical conductivity is lower than copper or aluminum, their mechanical resilience and resistance to harsh substances make them ideal for niche industrial applications.

Benefits:

High resistance to corrosion, acids, and seawater

Durable in extreme temperatures and chemical environments

High tensile strength for underground or structural support

Where It’s Used:

Desalination plants

Chemical factories

Marine installations and coastal infrastructure

Oil and gas platforms

Stainless steel conductors are also used in sensitive grounding systems, especially where safety and compliance with international standards are critical.

Bulk Buying Tips for B2B Buyers

If you’re a contractor, project engineer, or procurement manager, here are some key points to remember when sourcing conductors in bulk:

Standard Compliance – Always request compliance certificates (IS, IEC, ASTM) for quality assurance Technical Datasheets – Ask for data sheets including tensile strength, conductivity, and resistance values Storage & Packaging – Ensure your conductors are supplied in secure reels, drums, or coils to avoid transport damage Installation Accessories – Don’t overlook holders, clamps, and terminals—Pipex offers bundled solutions Pricing Advantage – Pipex provides volume-based discounts and fast delivery across India for B2B clients

Conclusion

The right choice of conductor can dramatically improve the efficiency, safety, and longevity of your infrastructure project. Whether it's the lightweight advantage of aluminum, the conductivity of bare copper, the hybrid efficiency of copper bonded, or the durability of stainless steel, each conductor type serves a unique purpose.

At Pipex.ai, we understand the complexities of industrial-grade projects. That’s why we offer a wide selection of conductors and accessories, trusted by engineers and project leaders nationwide. Backed by reliable logistics, certifications, and expert guidance, Pipex is your one-stop B2B portal for quality electrical materials.

[waynes-multiverse]

Time After Time – Chapter 9

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language & smut, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), 1942 says hi, SB being a nice and kind human, sexism/feminism, angst, nightmares, Soldier Boy x Liberty/Stormfront (it hurt lol), heart attack, fluff and feels

Word Count: 13.8k

Posted on Patreon April 25, 2025

A/N: This one is purposefully long with a few small jumps as time goes by 😉 Basically a chapter with a lot of foreshadowing underneath and few heart-crushing lines (from Ben) to drive the dagger in real deep as we ramp up for the big one next week. Enjoy their nausea-inducing love while it lasts! 😘 ✨ Chapter title comes from Casablanca (1942)

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 9: As Time Goes By

At first, there was only warmth.

Your body was curled against his, still cocooned in the afterglow of everything that had unfolded hours ago. The room smelled faintly of his cologne, spiced and clean, and of candlewax, tobacco, and sleep.

Somewhere down the hall, the old house creaked its bones. A radiator hissed. Ben breathed evenly beside you, his broad chest rising and falling with a peace you hadn’t seen on him until tonight.

You might’ve stayed there. You might’ve slept through until morning.

But time didn’t move in straight lines for you. And sleep? Well, it was never as safe as it should’ve been.

Chandeliers. Marble. Chrome. Velvet. It hit like a film reel catching fire.

The world spun sharp and artificial, dripping in gold and red like a club soaked in champagne and blood. Cigarette smoke curled in the air like snakes. It smelt like bourbon and perfume that cost more than rent. The room was closed off and quiet, shut off from everything else, but the faint sounds of jazz music and the hum of a party just going on outside those four walls drowned in.

You knew where you were. Time had a scent, your brain announcing the exact date like a conductor on a train ride informing you about the next stop.

1952.

And there he was.

Ben, a little older. Harsher. Shirt unbuttoned, hair slicked, jaw clean-shaven like a Hollywood star, sitting with his bow legs sprawled out and one arm slung around the back of a velvet chaise lounge like he owned the whole goddamn world.

His smile was all teeth – cold and calculated – and his sparkling green eyes didn’t hold softness, only amusement, like he was constantly bored and waiting to be impressed.

The woman beside him was draped over his shoulder like a mink. Dark-haired, cruel-mouthed, with a cigarette holder dangling between her fingers and a voice like glass shattering. She wore diamonds like knives and a red dress like a challenge. High cheekbones, hard eyes, a smirk like she’d stepped over graves in heels just to make a point.

You knew her, had seen her on the news and in temporal glimpses before. She was American by passport, but her blood sung of Reich-born purity. A survivor – not of war, but of ideology.

Your stomach twisted.

You hated your fucking brain sometimes. You tried to will yourself away, to wake up, to control your dream and powers like the movie Inception had you believing you could.

But there was no escape. You were stuck here. Just another witness to history with no real power.

“I’m starting to think you only invite me to these things so you can show me off,” she said, fingers crawling up his chest.

Ben raised his champagne flute in salute and smirked. “You’re not wrong.”

She rolled her eyes. “And here I thought American men were supposed to be subtle.”

“Subtlety is for men who don’t already own the room.”

She giggled like dark silk. “You always were too soft when I met you. That little streak of sweetness? It was disgusting.”

Ben leaned in, one hand on her knee, corrupted by time and power. “You cured me of that.”

Your stomach tightened more. You wanted to throw up, felt the bile rise in your throat. But you stood there – still, just part of the wallpaper.

The woman purred, pleased. “Good. Sentimentality makes men soft.”

“Softer they are,” he said, chuckling, “the easier they are to break when we crush them underfoot.”

And for a heartbeat, it felt like he found your eyes across the room and was looking directly at you, sucking the oxygen from your lungs one atrocious word at a time.

Her laugh was low and theatrical, like someone who hadn’t meant it in years. “The famous golden boy. America’s sweetheart. You used to have a conscience, you know. Always trying to protect the weaklings.”

Ben snorted, his smile weaponized. “Conscience got in the way. I got over it.”

You stiffened, heart breaking into sharp pieces and shattering to the polished marble floors by your feet like a broken mirror – but this seemed like more than just seven years of bad luck ahead.

She clicked her tongue, pleased, her fingers trailing along his razor-sharp jawline in awe. “That serum really did a number on you.”

“It just cleared the fog.”

“That’s my boy.” She smirked cruelly, leaning in, her red-painted lips grazing his neck, his hand hitching higher on her thigh. “Humanity is a failed experiment. Mercy is fiction and compassion a leash. Good thing you cut yours a long time ago.”

Ben didn’t flinch. He grinned – soulless, hollow, and wolfish. “They’re all goddamn insects. Screaming about meaning. Scratching at their cages. They only pretend they’re free.”

“I heard there was another fire at a protest downtown,” she said coolly, swirling her drink. “Shame. What a loss.”

“Should’ve picked a better cause.” Ben laughed darkly into his glass. “Let them march. Let them scream. We’re built to outlast them. That’s what the serum proved, didn’t it?”

She nodded, shifting into his lap, straddling him. “We’re evolution. The end of weakness.”

Your breath caught somewhere in your chest, heart pounding behind your ribs like a prisoner as Ben looked at her like he respected her cruelty. He kissed her then, harsh and possessive.

Their laughter spilled across the room like gasoline. You felt your skin burning with hellfire.

“And you worried I couldn’t handle it,” Ben then said, mocking, grip tight on her hips. “Said I had a fuckin’ heart. That I might hesitate.”

“You proved me wrong. All that kindness in you – it was just programming. The real you was underneath. The serum just stripped the softness off.” She smiled like she was proud of the creation he’d become. Her masterpiece. “That’s why my husband picked you. He wanted someone the public could worship. The boy next door with a monster underneath.”

Ben laughed, a sound that didn’t belong to the man you knew. “Christ, they bought it, too. The press, the soldiers, even the politicians. Especially the politicians… All I had to do was smile and they opened every fuckin’ door. Learned to speak their language. Talk about patriotism. Family. Hard work.” His sneer turned as sharp as the combat knife he carried. “Makes it easier to gut them when they’re not lookin’.”

Your nausea morphed to white-hot anger the longer you listened to them, but you slowly began to understand why you were here – why your brain wanted to remind you of this.

You weren’t supposed to forget, to fantasize. You were supposed to remember the version of him who let a monster crawl into his lap, kiss his mouth, whisper hatred into his soul, and called it fucking foreplay.

And she laughed like he was the funniest man in the world. Of course she did –low and delighted. “You’re darker than I expected, Benjamin.”

“I always was. Just needed the right company.”

That one hurt the most, a piercing dagger to your heart, slicing it in two without a care in the universe.

They clinked their glasses, celebrating superiority.

“The world will learn,” she murmured against his skin, lips brushing his ear as she set both their drinks aside. “Not all at once. But they will. Through collapse. Through fire. Through obedience. You play the golden hero. Meanwhile, you leave bodies under rubble and call it collateral.”

She sounded like a fucking manifesto.

You felt yourself shaking, a tremble that ran bone-deep. This version of him didn’t love. Didn’t mourn. Didn’t feel. He was what happened when power met emptiness and got everything it fucking wanted.

And then you watched her kiss him. Messy. Thoughtless. More dominance than desire. Ben grinned against her lips but didn’t kiss her back with any real heat. You could tell it was a game to him, something to stave off the boredom.

She slid his shirt open, dragging blood-red nails across bronzed and freckled skin. She ground against him, and he tugged her closer, palm running up her spine.

They collapsed back onto the velvet chaise in a tangle of limbs and silk and smug disdain. Every movement was transactional. Purposeful. His hands roamed her body like territory, hers clawed at his shoulders like she was digging her name into the surface of a monument. She dragged her mouth down his chest, biting hard enough to bruise, and he laughed – like it was all just theater.

Like none of it meant a damn thing.

You jolted awake like a punch to the gut, air tearing into your lungs too fast, too sharp, scalding and aching like you’d been holding your breath under water. Sweat clung to your skin, hair damp against your neck. The sheet tangled around your waist felt like chains.

“God,” you groaned, dragging a hand across your face. “Not that fucking Nazi bitch.”

Jesus fucking Christ, why her? Why couldn’t you just watch him fuck Crimson Countess instead? At least that woman was only painfully stupid and not evil in a delete-the-human-race kind of way.

Your heart hammered so loudly you didn’t even notice the body stirring behind you. The blanket fell to your sides as you sat there, gasping for air, like you’d clawed your way out of another world – or fucking Hell. You weren’t quite sure.

“Hey,” Ben's voice broke through the fog, groggy with sleep but alert as he sat up next to you. “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

You didn’t answer at first. You were still there – still seeing his hands on her hips, the twisted smile he wore, the dismissive way he talked about human beings like they were goddamn gum stuck to his combat boots.

Ben watched you closely in the pale wash of the moonlight, green eyes adjusting. You could feel the heat of him beside you – bare chest, sleepy hair, hot breath. His skin was still warm, still familiar, but your own felt like it had been scorched raw.

And for a second, you hated your own brain. Hated how it blurred the lines so easily.

“Jesus, you’re shaking.” His voice lost its sleep-soft edge. “Are you okay?”

You flinched when his hand tentatively splayed across your shoulder, fingers brushing the edge of your spine like he didn’t want to spook you. It wasn’t intentional – you hadn’t meant to, your muscles locking up under his touch on reflex.

And he noticed. Of course he did.

Ben froze, swallowing. “Sorry,” he said quickly, drawing his hand back. “Didn’t mean to–… Did I–… Did I do something?”

God, it wasn’t fair he asked you that. What a fucking loaded question.

“No, uhm, no–” You shook your head quickly. “Just a dream, okay? Go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Well, uhm, I’m awake now,” he said in a lightly joking tone, ruffling a hand through his hair. He was quiet for a moment, teeth gnawing on his lower lip, still thinking about daring to touch you again. He didn’t know if he could. If you wanted him to.

His hand jittered with the need to hold you.

“Bad dream?” he asked quietly, lump stuck in his throat, breaths of uncertainty fanning against your shoulder blade.

You nodded, swallowed. You tucked your knees up to your chest, hugged them instead of him.

“You have these a lot, huh?”

“Every night.”

Silence again.

Ben shifted beside you, his weight sinking into the mattress as he leaned in slightly. “I didn’t know. Why did you never say anything?”

You huffed a laugh – dry, fragile. “Well, I’m not exactly used to sharing a bed with anyone.”

You tried to ignore, fight how your skin began to crawl in his proximity. They were two different people, looked at you differently, but the voice – that deep, rich baritone – it was still the same that had said all those awful things and meant them.

“Right.” Ben smacked his lips, and you could hear the cogs turning in his head without even looking at him. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No, look, I said I’m fine,” you snapped. A little too harshly. Too unfairly. You exhaled a sigh through your nose. “I’m sorry. Just–… Give me a minute, alright?”

You made the grave mistake of glancing over your shoulder and finding his eyes. And he looked at you like he worried. Like he cared. Like he fucking loved.

It goddamn near killed you.

“I always thought you were running from something,” Ben said softly when the silence had stretched on too long. “When you first showed up, you looked like hell. And when I offered you a place, you looked like I’d offered you a way out of a burning house.”

And it almost broke you that he didn’t know he was the fucking fire you were constantly trying to escape.

He went quiet for a second, eyes flickering across your face in the dark. You could feel it – his mind working on overdrive, trying to piece together the right thing to say without making anything worse.

And you didn’t mean to – you really didn’t – when his fingers reached for your arm and you jerked away again. Fucking muscle memory.

You hated someone with his face but none of his soul.

“Ben, please–… Please don’t touch me right now,” you begged quietly, desperately, and avoided looking at him like he was the ruin of something that once felt sacred.

But this time, you might’ve broken something inside of him.

And he snapped.

His hand shot out and grabbed your arm, spinning you to face him before you could pull away. His other hand locked around your jaw. Not soft. Not careful. His grip was all tension, all desperation – like holding you in place was the only thing keeping him from splintering in half.

He was trying to hold the world together, trying to hold you together. And sure, you could've easily used your powers and bolted out of there, twisted his arm clean off his body, but your love for him kept you tethered in place like it always did.

All you needed was a second to clear your head, really.

“No,” Ben bit. His voice was raw, harsh, fingers tightening around your arm. “You don’t get to shut me out anymore. Not after last night.”

“Ben–” You struggled in his arms, squirming against him. “Let go–”

“No. Not this time. Not until you look at me.” His voice cracked with hurt, and you found his eyes. “You keep pushing me away like I’m the enemy. Like I’m gonna hurt you, and I don’t know what the hell to do with that.”

Your breath stuttered, and he saw it. Saw the flicker in your eyes. The way you wouldn’t meet his.

And it fucking gutted him.

Ben stared at you, jaw clenched. “Jesus Christ, after last night? After everything you gave me… after everything we did – you’re really gonna look at me like that?”

“I didn’t mean–”

“Yeah, you did,” he cut in, the wound you sliced even audible in his tone. “You meant it. You mean it right now. You won’t even let me touch you.”

You stilled in his grip, shoulders drawn tight.

“Last night, you let me see every damn part of you–” His fingers curled around your waist, dragging you closer, like he needed to feel your heartbeat against his own. “You let me touch you. You let me in. And I touched every inch of you, sweetheart. You don’t just get to take that back like it didn’t mean a goddamn thing.”

“It’s not about that–”

“Then what is it about? Huh?” His eyes burned, voice rasping as he pushed forward. “You think I don’t see it? The way you push me away like I’m gonna rip you apart? You think I don’t know something’s eating you alive? I’m sorry, but I’m not gonna let you drown five fucking feet away from me.”

“It’s not that simple,” you breathed, your voice hoarse.

Your hands pressed to his chest, trying to create distance, but he leaned in anyway, nose brushing the side of your cheek as he anchored you there. Close. Inescapable.

“That’s not good enough,” he said, pulling you closer still, sheets slipping dangerously low between you. “It’s like you’re waiting for me to let you down. Like you’re… bracing for it. And I don’t know how to prove to you that I won’t. I’m not gonna disappoint you.”

But you will, your mind argued.

Not him. Not this version. But the man who sat on that velvet chaise with blood still under his fingernails. The one who only saved lives because the headlines said it made him look good.

“Ben, please…” The tears came hard and fast, burning your eyes and skin like acid rain.

“I know what I saw,” he said, voice rough but steady, like he was grounding himself in the truth. “I know what I felt. You didn’t just give me your body – you gave me you. You gave me your goddamn heart.” He paused, swallowed, fingers digging deeper into your flesh. But he didn’t look away, not even for a second. He held your gaze, jaw tight. “And I gave you mine. You know I did. I guess… somewhere along the line, you got under my skin, and now you’re in my goddamn bones, sweetheart. Can’t fucking erase that.”

You sucked in a breath like your life depended on it, lungs close to collapsing in on themselves. “You don’t understand,” you argued weakly, barely audible but loud enough in the quiet morning hours.

“Then make me,” Ben said. It wasn’t a demand – it was a plea. “I’m not asking for all of it. Hell, I’m not asking for most of it. Just–… Don’t make me the villain in some nightmare I wasn’t even in.”

You trembled in his grip, your body alive with guilt, indecision, and terror, and for a moment, you wanted to push him away, to pull back into the secret bunker you’d built. How could you explain all of it to him? How did you tell someone the thing you were terrified of was a future only you could see?

You couldn’t say anything, and you couldn’t escape your feelings either. You were too close. The heat of him, the rawness in his eyes – it was everything you wanted.

And everything you fucking feared.

Ben’s thumbs brushed under your eyes, catching the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Hey,” he said quietly like he was trying to keep you from falling apart. “It’s me. I’m right here. Always. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

You closed your eyes, breath catching in your throat. His other hand tightened its grip at the back of your neck, not rough but steady. Anchoring you.

“I’m strong enough, okay?” Ben’s voice dropped, low and desperate and full of promises he’d never be able to keep. “Whatever you’re carrying, I can handle it. I’m strong enough to carry it, I swear to God.”

You couldn’t speak. The weight of his words pressed down on you like a thousand stones, each one heavier than the last. You didn’t know what to say. So you just made a small, broken sound in your throat and pressed your forehead softly against his, nodding, unable to fight the pull anymore.

But you weren’t giving in. You were just giving up.

Ben’s breath ghosted over your lips, and you could feel the way he was holding himself back. He didn’t close the gap between you. You felt it, felt the way his chest heaved, the way he was trying so damn hard to give you space.

“You think people are good?” you whispered your question into the silence of the night, as if asking it too loudly during daylight would provoke a wrong answer.

Ben blinked, hesitated. “What do you mean – like, deep down?”

You nodded in his palms, and he didn’t answer right away, worrying his bottom lip.

“When I was a kid,” he said eventually, “I used to think so. Thought people were trying their best, that everyone had a little good in them if you looked hard enough.”

“And now?”

He looked away for a beat, to your hand on the mattress, brows faintly furrowed. “Now I think… some people are just mean. They like power or control or watching something break in their hands. Doesn’t make them broken. Just makes them what they are.”

You remained quiet.

“But there’s still good ones too,” he added, softer. “I just think they’re harder to find.”

“What changed your mind?”

“My old man, mostly.” He huffed a small chuckle, humorless. “I think most people would rather double down than admit they were ever wrong, you know?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding once more. “Do you ever think people deserve second chances no matter what?”

Ben wet his lips in thought before answering. “I think it depends on the person. The choice. What they do after the mistake.”

“And what if they don’t know they’re lost?” you asked.

He glanced at you again. “Then someone’s gotta be willing to help them find their way back.”

You swallowed hard. God, you wanted to believe him.

“Even if they’ve done unforgivable things?”

This time, Ben was quiet for a moment longer.

“I think if someone’s trying – really trying – to be better, then yeah. I think redemption’s possible. But not everyone wants that. Not everyone deserves it.”

That landed somewhere heavy in your gut.

“I think the problem is,” you said and found his eyes, “people always want to believe they’re the hero. Even when they’re not.”

Ben tilted his head. “You’ve been thinking about this a lot, huh?”

You looked away and nodded. “Lately.”

He didn’t push.

“I used to think,” you whispered, “that there were good people and bad people. And if you were lucky, you’d find someone good and hold onto them. But it’s not that simple, is it?”

It was so easy to want to trust him like this. So easy to believe in the version of him lying inches away, heart in his eyes. The one who made you laugh. The one who’d give you the world.

“No, uh, I guess not,” Ben said quietly, the confusion etched into his brow, still wondering, still trying to figure out what your questions meant.

After a moment, you eased back under the covers, swirling head hitting the pillow. Ben mirrored your movements and lay down next to you, but you didn’t move closer.

He shifted – just enough to be near, not enough to touch. Then he reached out, slowly, and let his hand rest between you, palm up on the bed. A silent offering. Not a demand.

You stared at it – and then tentatively placed your fingers in his. He gave your hand the gentlest squeeze.

Warm. Steady.

Grounding.

You studied him for a few pounding heartbeats, lying there, facing each other, hand in his. And all you could think about was how you never wanted this version of him to go away – the good one.

It was unfathomable, too much for most to grasp, how this man next to you – the sweet one, the kind one – could ever say and do all these vicious and barbaric things.

Didn’t that mean those parts had always been there? Even now? How could such vile seeds sprout and blossom in only ten years?

Math was the universe’s answer to everything, but it still couldn’t answer you this.

“Want to tell me a stupid story?” you asked suddenly, your heart seeking to find the light within him.

Ben’s brow lifted. “Like what?”

“Like… childhood. Teenage embarrassment,” you said, your lips involuntarily twitching with a smile as you watched him.

Ben chuckled, carding a hand through his hair, and sighed. “Alright, when I was a kid – I’m talking seven or eight – I tried to impress this girl from the neighborhood by building her a treehouse. Except I didn’t actually know how to build, well… anything. So I used cardboard boxes and tied them together with string.”

You snorted, smile spreading. “Let me guess… it collapsed?”

“Oh, immediately.” Ben laughed. “While she was climbing into it.”

“Oh no, poor girl.” You bit back your own laugh.

“She scraped her knees and never spoke to me again.”

Your teeth tugged on your lower lip, the smile barely containable underneath. “So you’ve always been charming, huh?”

“Charming and tragically underqualified,” he said with a wink.

“I don’t think you’re underqualified in all areas of life,” you teased cheekily, watching the dimples form as the boyish smile rose.

“Well, uh, thank you. Glad you think so.” He scratched his throat and blushed. Actually blushed. Like all he really was, was just the boy next door.

“What about birthdays? What was your favorite one?” you asked with innocent curiosity.

But the smile faded.

“Oh, uhm…” He hesitated and cleared his throat before he decided to answer. “We-, uh, we didn’t really celebrate birthdays. My-, uh, my father always said birthdays were earned and that I hadn’t done a damn thing worthy of a cake or a song. Said you don’t get to be celebrated for simply being born.”

The ache that bloomed in your chest was slow, wide, and throbbing. “Ben–”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, shaking his head as if he was shaking off the pain. “I didn’t know any better. I was a kid. Just thought that was normal, you know? No parties. No presents. No cake. He always thought birthdays were indulgent. Wasteful.”

“And your mother?” you asked softly.

You knew Margaret had shut down eventually, probably because of reasons just like this one, but you also knew it must’ve broken her heart that her son didn’t even get something as innocent as cake for his own birthday.

Ben exhaled a long sigh. “She tried, I guess. She used to sneak a cupcake into the garden. Said it was ‘just because it’s Tuesday.’”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, barely able to hold your tears back.

“Don’t be. Had a good life. Better than most,” Ben said and looked at you as if he knew you hadn’t. “You know, sometimes, I’d wait until the whole house was asleep. No staff, no lights. Just me... I’d tiptoe past the study, even when it was empty – because God forbid I woke him up – and I’d sneak a slice of cake from the kitchen. Hell, sometimes even bread if that’s all we had left that day.”

Silence settled again, softer now, the tension gone. Ben tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, brushing his knuckles along your jaw.

And then it hit you – a memory. Not a distant one. One from here. The first dinner you’d shared with him in this house.

Ben never got to celebrate his own birthday, but he made sure you had yours. He gave you what he’d never been given. And not because you’d expected it. But because he’d wanted to.

“That night, after I told you it was my birthday, you gave me cake,” you said.

Ben’s lips curled into a soft smile as if he knew you’d put it together now – that it hadn’t been just cake.

“I didn’t think it meant much to you,” you added, the realization almost too much.

You’d just been a stranger back then, and he’d still done the kindest gesture for you. Something so personal it bordered on heartbreak.

“Didn’t it, though?” he asked, green eyes twinkling with something more than amusement. His tongue swiped over his teeth, fingers stilling the little circles he’d been absentmindedly drawing on your skin. “You said it so casually back then. Like you stopped expecting something a long time ago. Like your birthday didn’t matter. And I-, well, I guess I just figured it should, you know?” Then he gave a shrug like he hadn’t just turned your whole world upside down. “You should have what I didn’t. Simple as that.”

Simple.

“You remember the projector you gave me?” he asked then, catching you off guard.

“Yeah, wasn’t even sure you liked it,” you replied.

“I-… I didn’t know what to say,” he admitted. “No one’s ever done something like that for me. Given me something just because they thought I deserved it, you know? Not because they had to or because they wanted something. You just did it so casually.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand. “Just figured you might like it.”

“But it was a big deal… to me,” he said, swallowing thickly. “You know, I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to figure out what to give you in return. You don’t seem like a jewelry person. And flowers and chocolates seem like they’re not good enough.”

Your lips twitched with a faintly amused smile. “It’s called affection, Ben. You don’t have to trade me livestock.”

Ben snorted a breath of laughter. “Well, livestock would’ve been easier to figure out.”

The silence that followed was thick and warm and golden.

And you looked at him then, really looked – like you’ve done so many times before whenever those doubts and fears crept back into your mind – and could see none of the monster you ran from in the future.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d already changed the outcome. Maybe you being here, right now in his arms, in this moment with him, was enough to undo all the damage and aches.

If anyone could find a way to cheat the system, it was you.

And then, you finally scooted closer, Ben welcoming you fully into his embrace, his warmth, protective hands steady on your skin. He still didn’t push. He waited.

For you to lean in. For you to let go.

Your lips brushed against his – tentative, testing, and then tempestuous. The fears, the worries, the whole world dropped away in that moment – no clock, no consequence.

You sank into him, into the gravity of it – the ache and the safety, the chaos and the calm, the ruin and the refuge.

The kiss hit like a wave – hard, fast, breathless. Your mouths crashed together, teeth scraping, lips bruising. You gripped his shoulders like you were drowning, dragging him closer, deeper, until his arms locked around you like he’d die if you slipped away again.

Ben groaned into your mouth, one hand fisting in your hair, the other sliding down your back, pulling you flush against his bare chest. You whimpered when he bit your lower lip, and he growled when you yanked his hair in return.

Reverent, raw, ruined.

He was coaxing you back to life, setting your skin alight with every haunting touch.

His breath hitched when your palms pressed against his shoulders, easing him back down onto the mattress. He went without a word, without resistance, letting you take him under like the tide.

You climbed over him, bracketing his hips, the soft morning light painting your skin in dabbled gold.

Ben watched you as your fingers ran across his chest, over the plane of muscle, the steady thump of his heart beneath your touch. The way his throat moved, the flicker in his forest green eyes – there was a vulnerability there he almost never let anyone see.

You kissed the space above his heart and felt it stutter beneath your lips. His hands smoothed up your thighs – but he didn’t dare to grab, didn’t dare to pull. You could feel the heat of him pressed between you, hard and ready and still waiting for you to decide.

To take.

And then the knocking started – frantic, sharp, and out of place in the hush of dawn.

Ben stilled beneath you, brow furrowing and grip tightening, a groan of frustration escaping low from his throat as his head sunk back into the pillows.

“Mr. Benjamin? Ben? Please–”

Florence.

Three more rapid thuds against the heavy oak door followed before you both started to move. You slid off Ben and slipped under the covers as he scrambled out of bed and reached for his slacks, still half-crumpled on the floor.

You could see how he steeled himself, the invisible armor you’d watched him peel off last night reforming before he opened the door. You clutched the sheets tighter to your chest, fighting the embarrassed flush in your cheeks.

You, naked in Ben’s bed, would surely make it into the morning newsletter of the staff gossip.

And then Florence stood there in the hallway, in her pale morning dress, her apron wrinkled, her bun slightly askew – something you’d never seen before. Her knuckles were white around the edge of the doorframe.

“It’s your father,” she said without preamble. “He collapsed near the study. I believe it was his heart.”

Ben went still. Not a muscle moving, not a breath escaping.

And you? Well, you slowly started to panic internally as the seconds ticked by. Had you–? Were you–?

No…

“I’ve rung Dr. Norwood. He’s on his way.” She then glanced behind him, and her mouth twitched – whether in approval or concern, you couldn’t tell. “I thought you should know.”

Ben swallowed once. “Did he say anything?”

“He was conscious. Barely. Couldn’t get up.” Her voice softened, and this time, the worry was unmistakable. “You should come down.”

Ben gave a nod, automatic, and turned back to you – expression unreadable, jaw tight.

“Stay here,” he said quietly, already pulling a shirt over his head.

“Do you need–”

“I’ll be back soon.”

You nodded, and he was gone.

The county fair stretched wide under the June sun, the air thick with the mingling smells of grilled sausage, fried dough, and the sweet scent of cotton candy and kettle corn.

The fairgrounds buzzed with color and laughter: a brass band played ragtime near the main pavilion, children darted through clusters of hay bales, women in cotton dresses strolled beneath bunting-draped stalls, and sunlight turned the dust into gold as it kicked up beneath worn boots and saddle shoes alike.

Ben walked with his hand firmly laced in yours, a half-melted lemonade in the other. And all the while, he’d brush his thumb over your wrist, leaning in close to whisper something private (and dirty) into your ear or kiss your temple when you laughed with your head back.

You should probably preface this by stating that, over the last three and a half months, Ben had been happier than he’d ever been.

Mornings spent tangled up in bed, late-night drives to nowhere, afternoons where the only agenda was you.

He smiled more. Touched more. Laughed more. Everything was blissfully fine.

And Ben’s father? Well, the bastard survived, so there really was nothing to feel guilty over.

Sure, some people would claim you were – directly or indirectly – responsible for that man’s heart attack.

Indirectly for instigating his wife to start a feminist revolution at the dinner table and seducing his son to rebel against the best-laid plans. But really, you had just been a supporting character with a natural curiosity. Could someone seriously blame you for this?

And sure, some would be all too quick to point a finger at you for your direct involvement by stopping that dick’s heart for barely a breath.

It had been less than five seconds, alright? And it wasn’t like he’d dropped immediately after you’d done it. There had been several hours between those two completely unrelated incidents. Besides, the man smoked, drank, ate fatty red meat, and harbored rage issues like there was no tomorrow, so who was to say you were responsible for his little health scare?

Cause and effect could not definitively be proven and as sure as hell wouldn’t hold up in a court of law. Anything could’ve taken that tyrant down a notch.

It wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t almost killed your boyfriend’s father. End of story.

And if anything, if you truly had been a tiny bit responsible, the universe should’ve written you a goddamn thank you note. You’d practically gifted everyone in the mansion a fucking vacation.

Ben was happier. The staff was happier. And Margaret was downright drunk on life.

As soon as her husband had been wheeled away, she’d already picked out a private clinic in Switzerland before she even asked if he’d survived. Sadly, Richard Brooks, ever the controlling business magnate, didn’t go for it and set up camp at an exclusive convalescent clinic nestled in the wooded hills of Bryn Mawr instead – just outside the city.

The estate-turned-sanatorium catered to men like the Brooks patriarch – powerful, prideful, unwilling to be seen at their weakest.

And for the first time in his life, Ben had space to breathe. His father still sent for him once a week, doling out sharp instructions between rounds of rest and rehab, but the weight of his daily presence was gone.

Margaret, on the other hand, never visited her husband at all. She saw him once when he was still at the hospital in Philadelphia, but during that visit, you hadn’t been quite sure if she hadn’t just been aiming to give him another heart attack that would stick the way she’d been relentlessly antagonizing him.

And now, you were here, on a warm Saturday in late June, meeting two of Ben’s friends for the first time – a schoolmate from Choate, Quentin, and his sharp-tongued girlfriend, Josie. The four of you made an easy group – flushed from sun and sugar, teasing each other like you’d known one another for years.

“That’s the third pie sample you’ve taken,” Josie pointed out with a mock-scandalized gasp, giggling as she watched you go for a blueberry flavor this time. “You know they’re gonna make you buy one.”

“I’m just being thorough,” you said, licking your thumb. “It's a civic duty. What if someone sold subpar pie?”

“She’s a patriot.” Ben chuckled, leaning close to brush a smudge of berry off your cheek. “Upholding American values. God bless her.”

Josie rolled her eyes and elbowed her boyfriend. “Do you think they’re always like this?”

Quentin grinned. “Well, I’ve only known her an hour, but I’d put money on it.”

“You’ve still got a little bit of jam on your lips,” Ben murmured, brushing his thumb by the corner of your mouth. His tone was warm, teasing, and far too amused. And by his little smirk, you knew there was no jam at all. “Want me to kiss it away?”

Cheekily, you nodded, grinned, and draped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a searing kiss before he could do it himself. And both of you still smiled all the way into the kiss, not being able to stop.

Behind you, Josie let out a soft laugh. “God, you two are revolting.”

Quentin lifted a brow, amused. “They’re adorable. Leave them alone.”

“No, seriously,” Josie said, sidling up beside you. “It’s like watching the first ten minutes of a musical before someone starts singing on a balcony.”

You turned to her with mock offense. “I haven’t burst into song once.”

Untrue. You sang and played piano at the mansion all the time – especially for Ben.

Josie smirked. “Give it time. You’ve got that look in your eyes.”

Ben frowned, glancing down at you. “What look?”

“The ‘I’m-in-love-and-mildly-dazed’ look,” Josie clarified, clearly delighted. “It’s the same face Quentin made when he saw me eat five corn dogs in a row last year.”

Quentin nodded solemnly. “I’d never known love before that moment.”

You and Josie burst into laughter, while Ben only rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He just slipped his hand around your waist and pulled you subtly into his side.

You then nudged Josie playfully. “Let’s ditch them before they start flexing over who can throw a horseshoe farther.”

Josie smiled, linking arms with you. “Agreed. The boys can grunt and puff all they want while we go get kettle corn and admire the handmade quilts.”

Aside from Dottie, you hadn’t exactly made that many friends yet in this time period. You’d almost been elated when Ben had suggested an outing with some of his closest friends. He’d never introduced you to someone from his life before who didn’t live in the mansion or worked at the steel mill – much less as his girlfriend.

But he had said the word so casually and easily today, full of pride even, that it made your heart swell and soar like a hot air balloon. You knew this was a big step. Something was settling.

But that familiar itching feeling still gnawed on you. Not as often. Not as prominent. But still there.

You knew you used to have friends where you came from, but their faces were blurry and their names just always on the tip of your tongue. You forgot parts of your childhood too, which arguable wasn’t the worst.

Your memories were fading.

Never the big things but the details.

You still knew you grew up in a trailer park. The town? Gone. You knew you were from the East Coast, though.

You knew you had studied physics in Montreal and could remember the contents of your textbooks like the back of your hand but not the teachers who taught them to you.

You knew you’d lived in a ground floor apartment in New York, tucked underneath a stairwell, but you couldn’t remember the district or your own kitchen sink.

However, without fail, you could always remember him – and you had no idea why.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped, not even a little. It was like your brain was sacrificing memory capacities to remind you of the danger sleeping in your bed. But whenever you woke up – panting, sweat-drenched, and with fear in your eyes – Ben would just be there and hold you, not saying a word.

Ben watched you disappear toward the artisan tents, arm looped through Josie’s. His eyes lingered on the soft sway of your hips in the yellow sundress, a fond, secret smile grazing the corners of his mouth.

Quentin let out a low whistle next to him, chuckling. “Oh, buddy, you’ve got it bad.”

“Hm, what?” Ben snapped out of his daze, blinking at his friend.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Quentin noted, a subtle smile creeping onto his face.

Ben cocked an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Lighter.” Quentin gestured vaguely. “Like you’re not carrying around the weight of seven generations of Brooks men on your shoulders.”

That made Ben snort. The men then drifted away from the girls toward the edge of the field, where a few picnic tables sat beneath the lazy shade of oak trees. The noise of the fair dulled behind them, replaced by the hum of cicadas.

“She’s good for you,” Quentin said then, watching Ben lean against the trunk of a tree.

“Yeah, she makes it easy,” Ben replied simply, toying with an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

“Not a sentence I ever expected from your mouth.” Quentin smirked. “I’m honestly still trying to figure out how exactly you pulled this off.”

“Oh, trust me. So do I.” Ben huffed a small laugh. “She just showed up one day. Like she knew where to find me.”

“So, what’s next?”

Ben didn’t speak right away. His gaze wandered to where you were pointing something out to Josie at the ring toss booth, your hands moving animatedly like you were explaining physics again while your hair caught sunlight like gold thread.

“I’m looking at houses,” Ben replied after a beat.

Quentin’s brows shot up. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, but not in the city – outside. Big yard, porch. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere I can build something that’s mine. Ours,” Ben stated but didn’t look up, too coolly pocketing his hands in his slacks.

“Wow. So this is real.” Quentin blinked, then thoughtfully licked his lips. “What about your old man? You think he’s finally ready to relinquish control when he comes back?”

“No.” Ben let out an amused laugh at the idea alone. “But I don’t need him – or his money. I can do this on my own. I know what I want now.”

“Which is?”

Ben hesitated, then looked out over the fair – at the sunlight spilling like honey across the grass, at the crowd, at the space you’d just disappeared into.

“Peace. A home that’s mine. Her in it.”

Quentin studied his friend for a moment, then gave a sly grin. “So, are you going to marry her too or just haunt a porch together like a pair of charming ghosts?”

Ben chuckled softly but didn’t deny it, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about it.”

Quentin raised an impressed brow. “Jesus, you really are gone.”

“Well, I’m not rushing it. It’s more of a someday kind of thing,” Ben assured, but there was a faint smile playing across his lips.

“Does she know about all your plans?”

Ben shook his head. “Not yet. I wanna show her first. Want it to be right for both of us. Not sure she’s ready yet, you know?”

Quentin nodded slowly, then teased, “You always were a sentimental bastard underneath the attitude.”

“Well, don’t tell anyone.” Ben chuckled lightly. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Quentin slapped a hand on his shoulder, firm and approving. “Well, do me a favor and don’t propose till I’m ready to pop the question to Josie. Otherwise she might raise Cain if she finds out you of all people got there first.”

“Hey, no promises.” Ben laughed, amused.

He smiled when his eyes found you in the crowd again, the love in his chest a steady thrum. Not loud. Not showy.

Permanent.

The Ferris wheel, now aglow in soft pastel lights, turned slow and deliberate against the dusky indigo sky when the sun had dipped below the horizon.

String lights blinked like stars strung across booths, and somewhere in the distance, a fiddle played the opening bars of a waltz. Children carried oversized stuffed animals and parents carried yawning toddlers.

Ben helped you climb into the swaying seat, his arm settling around your shoulders, and you instinctively leaned in.

“Gotta say, that’s probably the most romantic thing you’ve done so far,” you teased Ben, nudging him in the ribs a little.

He smirked that lazy, boyish grin again – the one that flipped your insides upside down. “Wait until I get you to the top.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

God knows that man could never keep his hands to himself. You wouldn’t have put it past him to go third base on top of a Ferris wheel.

“Depends on how much you like heights.” He winked.

Yup, as expected.

But once the fairgrounds blurred into a mosaic of warm, twinkling lights below you, he actually surprised you by tucking you closer to his chest.

“You ever been on one of these before?” Ben asked, his own natural curiosity about you peeking through once more.

Sometimes he’d ask you about your life, your childhood, your memories from school or Christmas, and you actually would’ve loved sharing those moments with him – good or bad.

However, there was one tiny problem:

“Uh, I can’t remember.” You shrugged and tried to be as subtle and casual as possible about it. “Maybe, yeah. When I was a kid.”

Ben pecked your temple but never pressed. Somehow, even without knowing the full truth, he seemed to sense the borders of what you could say – and what you couldn’t.

It wasn’t always easy – carrying this big secret around like a second brain. You didn’t even fully understand the rules – whether staying longer meant damaging something, whether loving him harder meant losing him faster. The equations on your chalkboard hadn’t yielded positive results so far. But in moments like this, you wanted to believe time could bend enough to make space for both of you.

Ben then grew quiet next to you – thinking, brooding. And you knew by now that something was on his mind again. Probably his father. That was usually when he became uncharacteristically mute – like someone had tied a weight around his throat to choke him.

“You always get this contemplative at high altitudes?” you teased.

Ben’s mouth twitched. “Only when I’m weighing the pros and cons of throwing myself off something tall.”

“Jesus, not dramatic at all, are we?”

He exhaled a sigh through his nose. “He comes back next week.”

Ah. There it is…

Three months worth of spending nights and days with him had sort of morphed you into an expert on all things him.

“Clinic says he’s well enough to return to his usual routine. Which means barking orders, throwing parties, and pretending nothing ever happened. He’s throwing his annual Fourth of July party. Same thing he does every year. Big, loud, obnoxious, too many cigars. Wants it to be his ‘triumphant return to society.’”

“Huh. Like Caesar marching back from Gaul,” you quipped.

Too bad you’d already played Ides of March with that man.

Ben snorted. “You’re not wrong. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s expecting a big military flyover.”

“Classy.” Your smile then faded slightly, chewing your lower lip. “I’m not invited, I’m guessing.”

Ben’s silence was answer enough.

“It’s fine,” you said quickly and forced a smile. “I’ll just stay in my room. Ration my chocolates, write in my journal about the war effort, and look longingly out the window like I’m in a Jane Austen novel.”

Ben turned toward you, brow furrowed. “You’re not staying in your room. You’re coming with me.”

You blinked. “Ben, I don’t think it’s–”

“You’re my girl,” he cut off your protest. “And I want everyone to know it. I don’t care what he thinks or if he has another heart attack by the damn champagne tower.”

Your breath caught a little. God, this boy…

You looked at him then – the way the wind lifted his hair, the clean line of his jaw, the unshakable way he said things he meant and never walked them back.

You wanted to live in this moment forever. In this golden, impossible bubble of carnival lights and him saying things like ‘my girl.’ You wanted to give him everything.

“You ever think about how all of this will just… be gone someday?” you mused, squinting at the blurred colors of the carousel spinning under a canopy of stars. “The fair, the music, the booths. Blink and it’s history.”

Ben glanced over at you with that quiet, amused look he gave you sometimes – like he wasn’t entirely sure what kind of puzzle you were, but he wanted to spend his life trying to solve it anyway.

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”

“I’m serious,” you said, trying not to laugh. “Entropy, decay, time marching on – it’s all just a slow slide into disorder.”

“Remind me again what you studied?” he asked dryly.

You grinned and nudged him with your shoulder. “What, you don’t like a girl who can calculate the collapse of the universe?”

“I like a girl who can out-think half the men I know and still kiss me like I’m the only equation she can’t solve.”

Oh. Well, point for him.

“But seriously,” Ben continued, “you’re not hiding. I’m not letting him dictate that. I don’t want a future unless you’re in it.”

Shit.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, comforted by the steadiness of him and the creaky Ferris wheel car that somehow felt more stable than the rest of your life.

Your heart weighed heavily, but you smiled anyway. “You might regret that. I have no idea how to navigate country club hors d’oeuvres without starting a class war.”

Ben laughed. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Alright, I’ll come to the party,” you agreed and ignored your heart, which blinked like a neon warning sign between your ribs. “But only if there’s pie.”

He chuckled softly. “That can be arranged.”

“And I want to wear something entirely inappropriate.”

“Also allowed.”

You stared at him, something hot and electric blooming in your chest. You looked out over the grounds again – rows of flickering lights and laughter echoing below.

“You know, we’ve got plans, you and me,” Ben said suddenly.

“What kind of plans?” you asked, brow raised, shifting a little to look up at him.

“I said I’d figure out a way out of that hellhole for both of us. I still mean it,” Ben said, deep voice untypically hesitant like he was testing the idea out loud for the first time. “I’ve been looking at houses.”

You sat up a little, your heart pounding like a demolition hammer, throat dry. “You-, uh, you have?”

Ben nodded and smiled. “There’s one I keep going back to. Found it last week, and I don’t know… Feels right. I think you’d like it. Needs some work, though. A lot of work, actually… The porch steps need replacing, the roof’s a mess, and the windows rattle like a haunted saloon.”

“So perfect, then.”

“Perfect,” he echoed.

You were speechless. You’d never suspected he’d been dreaming behind your back. But you wanted to answer. God, you wanted to say yes and kiss him senseless and let the night carry you straight into forever. But reality tugged like a thread at the edge of your dress.

The part of you that lived in spreadsheets and time travel formulas wanted to tell him that buying a house with a girl who could theoretically be ripped out of this timeline at any moment was probably not a sound financial decision.

“It’s about an hour outside the city. Old place,” Ben continued, green eyes searching your face. “But there’s this little outbuilding on the property. Think it used to be a carriage house. Brick. Sturdy. Could be turned into a workshop.”

You swallowed, your heart thudding only louder. “A workshop?”

“I thought you might like it,” he said and gave you a cheeky smile as if he knew exactly how to make your heart soar. “Figured it be ideal for your tinkering. Your experiments. I don’t know much about the physics of whatever it is you do in George’s shed, but I figure if I can’t understand it, it’s probably important. I can picture you in there with your hair tied back, goggles on, muttering equations and setting things on fire.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, warm and stunned. “Oh, you think I’m just some mad scientist who needs a shed to explode things in, huh?”

“I mean, you did nearly set our bedsheet on fire last month,” Ben teased you. “Not in the good way…”

“That was a side effect! Totally unintentional. Science is messy,” you defended. Seriously, that only happened one time, alright?

“You’re messy.”

“True,” you admitted proudly. “But I get results.”

Ben laughed softly. “But I’m serious, alright? You light up when you talk about that stuff. That thing you built last month with the vacuum tubes and the light sensor – I don’t even know what it does, but you looked like you’d conquered the moon.”

Ugh. You wished. Fuck Buzz Aldrin.

“It was just a proximity alarm,” you replied. Honestly, you were just beating boredom by building random gadgets with whatever scraps you’d find in George’s shed. Sometimes you did miss flipping through TV channels on a lazy Saturday on a couch.

“See? You say that like it’s normal.” Ben laughed, watching your cheeks turn red under the colorful lights, but then the humor faded from his eyes as he glanced back toward the fairgrounds. “I don’t have the full money yet. The house is cheap, but it still needs a down payment. I’m working on it. But I’ll get there. I swear. I’ve got a few things saved, and I might sell the car.”

There was guilt in his tone. Shame, even. As if he had already failed you by not conjuring up the entire future out of thin air like a bunny from a top hat.

“But you love that car,” you argued softly.

Ben only gave a small shrug of his broad shoulders. “It’s just metal. This–,” he gestured between the two of you, “–this is more.”

You squeezed his hand. “You know, I never expected you to do it all alone. I know it’s weird – a woman offering to pitch in. But I don’t want you to carry everything by yourself. I want this to be ours, too. And maybe I also want the upstairs bathroom to have a really nice tub. I’ve kind of gotten spoiled over the last few months,” you quipped.

Ben looked at you like you’d just spoken in tongues, both relieved and unsure if he was even allowed to feel that way. He scratched the back of his neck, chuckling a little. “Well, I’m glad to hear you say that because I might have another idea.”

He didn’t directly say he needed your help. He never would. Because he wanted to provide. Because his father had conditioned him to think anything less was a failure. But it was there – in the hesitation, in the subtle shift of his shoulders. That need. That quiet ask.

“What were you thinking?”

“Well, uhm, I figured maybe you could invent something? Something smart, something useful. Doesn’t have to be flashy. And I could take it into the city. Sell it, or license it, or whatever people like me do. You know, I’ll take the meetings, flash a smile, wear the suit.”

You arched an eyebrow in amusement. “So you want me to be your secret genius in the basement while you take the credit?”

“Exactly. A reverse Edison, if you will,” Ben said.

You snorted a small laugh. “Oh, honey, Edison was Edison. He made a whole career out of stealing ideas from people smarter than him.”

“Perfect,” Ben replied, grinning. “We’ll just continue a proud tradition.”

Not the worst idea he’s ever had, your inner Puck sang mischievously while he already rolled around in dollar bills.

And then the bigger question hit you like a thunderbolt: Whose invention could you hijack without guilt?

You mentally opened a file folder titled Men Who Deserve to Be Robbed – and it wasn’t even a fucking short list. Hell, you’d rob Edison blind in his sleep and still feel absolutely nothing.

And sure, your abilities were like a cheat code to capitalism. You could practically feel the timeline shiver beneath your feet. Invention theft? That was a whole different ethical category than ripping off Wall Street and placing bets on sports games.

A small-ish part of you even felt bad about it – briefly.

However, you then reminded yourself of Hedy Lamarr, who helped invent frequency-hopping and got zero recognition during her lifetime because, you know, tits. Rosalind Franklin literally died while Watson and Crick strutted off with her DNA work. Mileva Marić, Einstein’s brilliant first wife, who probably had her fingerprints all over the theory of relativity, got written out of the narrative. And last but not least, there were women like Margaret Knight, who invented the machine that made paper bags and had to goddamn sue a man who tried to steal the patent.

So yes, if you “borrowed” something from a few future men, you were sure history could cope. Call it fucking karmic redistribution.

Cosmic balancing or whatever…

After all, if your plan to rewrite the future worked, Homelander would never be fucking sneezed into existence in the first place. Didn’t you deserve a little something for that favor?

Lise Meitner cracked nuclear fission and didn’t even get a Nobel!

And then, your mind was suddenly buzzing with ideas, mentally raiding the patent archives of the future like a war criminal with excellent taste.

The list in your head quickly became extensive. The transistor radio? Tempting, but messy. Velcro? Possibly too weird. Solar panels? Ambitious. But then there were penicillin production, the jet engine, the electric razor – honestly, men were begging to be fucking robbed blind.

Hell, you could patent the damn Frisbee and fund your entire life with Ben from the back end of a plastic disc.

Vive les fucking femmes!

“You’re thinking about it too hard, sweetheart,” Ben broke through your thoughts with an amused laugh. “You always get this little crease between your brows when you’re trying to out-logic yourself.”

“Do not,” you muttered.

Ben then quietly bit his lips. “Look, I know it’s not ideal – me being the front. I mean, you’re brilliant. Scarily brilliant, even. I promise this arrangement would only be temporary, you know? To get a foot in the door? But I don’t want a life where you’re stuck behind me in some shadow. I want us side by side.”

Translation: I don’t want you to become clinically depressed like my mother one day, but also, the world doesn’t take you seriously right now due to your vagina.

And God, you hated how right he was. But if you tried to walk into a patent office right now with a device from thirty years in the future, you’d probably be laughed out of the building.

“Fine,” you sighed, nodding. “You go march into meetings with investors and wow them with your penis.”

Ben snorted a chuckle, gently kissing the top of your head as if it would soothe the ache this time period caused sometimes. Luckily, it did a little.

“The brains behind this operation is still you, sweetheart,” Ben added softly and pulled you closer, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

You buried your smile into his coat as the hush of the Ferris wheel cradled the things neither of you could promise but desperately hoped for.

Dreaming a future into existence.

The soft hum of cicadas drifted through the cracked window of the work shed as your fingers twisted a final coil of copper into place. The air smelled like old wood, smoke, and the faint tang of metal – a strangely comforting cocktail you’d come to associate with long afternoons spent here, hidden from the rest of the mansion, the party preparations, and Ben’s increasingly suffocating father.

The asshole had only been back two fucking days and was already driving everyone up the tall walls of the mansion.

As you reached for the wire cutters, the door creaked open. “I swear to God, George,” you muttered without looking up, “if that’s you looking for your soldering torch again, I’m invoking squatters’ rights.”

“Relax,” came Ben’s amused voice, warm and unmistakably close. “It’s not George.”

You glanced over your shoulder, offering a crooked smile. Ben leaned against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets, sleeves rolled up and the first two buttons undone. His hair – and Lord help you – was slightly tousled, like he’d just raked a hand through it in frustration. The late afternoon sunlight cut sharp behind him, shoulders slouched like he’d just come from a war. Which, to be fair, he kind of had.

Ben didn’t move toward you right away, only stood there for a beat, jaw tight, apple green eyes scanning your half-finished contraption like he was pretending the world outside hadn’t just tried to bury him alive again.

“Rough day?” you asked, returning to your work. “Are you here to tell me your father wants to build a runway in the backyard for Roosevelt’s plane?”

He huffed a tired laugh. “You could say that. He did mention fireworks. Big ones. The kind that might violate state law.”

You giggled softly. “Maybe I can help with that. Been exploding a lot of things in here recently.”

For a week now, you’d been trying to come up with the perfect invention for you and Ben to sell and finally get out of this place. You were heavily leaning toward polaroids or disposable cameras.

No pressure.

“What is that supposed to be?” he asked, nodding toward the mess of copper, wires, and what may or may not have once been part of George’s broken lawnmower.

You sighed dramatically. “Well, so far it’s nothing and only good at electrocuting me… and maybe creating small indoor thunderstorms.” You wiped your hands on an old rag and finally turned your full attention to him. “How’s your father? Any new pearls of wisdom?”

“Oh, he dropped a good one this morning.” Ben grinned and then proceeded to mimic his father. “He actually said, and I quote, ‘She’s a pretty little thing. A boy needs his amusements. Just don’t parade her around like a prize hog.’”

“Charming. You guys have a real Norman Rockwell family dynamic going on. Glad to know I’ve got the Brooks seal of approval as a temporary whore.” You snorted. “I hope you told him I’m very corrupting, practically feral, and can’t be trusted near high society.”

“Oh, I did.” Ben chuckled. “You should hear what else he says when he thinks I’m listening.”

You arched a brow. “Let me guess – I’m a bad influence and possibly a communist?”

Ben huffed a laugh. “Close.” He then raised a hand and ticked off fingers. “Let’s see… He said that you’re too clever for your own good, too opinionated for a wife, too mouthy for polite company. Also said you argue like a politician. Oh, and my personal favorite – ‘curves that men fight wars over.’”

Thank you?!

“He said that?” You cocked an eyebrow, fighting the repulsive shiver creeping down your spine. His father always looked at you like you were something exotic he didn’t quite approve of but wouldn’t mind sampling.

“Verbatim. Over scotch. Twice.” Ben smirked, unaware. “Said I always did like toys with bright packaging and sharp edges.”

You pursed your lips. “Wow. Flattered.”

Ben gave a tight smile. “He said you’ll chew me up and spit me out. That you’re the kind of woman a man ruins his life for, which I think was meant as an insult, but all that did was get me hard again.”

You blinked, then tilted your head, your heart stuttering a little. “Well, for the record, I don’t plan on ruining your life. But if I do, tell him I’ll make it memorable. How’s that?”

Ben laughed softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes anymore, letting out a long sigh instead. “He also said the Du Ponts are coming tomorrow. Real subtle message. Guess he’s hoping Grace shows up in a white dress and a shotgun.”

“Is the shotgun for me or for you?”

“Both of us, I’m guessin’…” He offered an apologetic wince that wasn’t nearly apologetic enough. “He still thinks that I’ll come to my senses once I’ve had my fill.”

You waited for the jealousy to rear up, but it didn’t. You weren’t worried about her. You were worried about him.

“And have you?”

Ben’s eyes locked with yours, sending you his signature lazy, mischievous smile. “Not even close, sweetheart.”

“I don’t suppose we could stay in here until next week, huh?” you mused jokingly.

“Tempting. But then my father would assume you murdered me in cold blood.”

You smirked. “Wouldn’t be the worst headline I’ve had.”

“Apparently her folks are very keen on picking things back up. She’s not married yet. He made that real clear,” Ben huffed, rolling his eyes back. “I told him I’d rather take a vow of celibacy and become a monk.”

“Really? You?” you teased.

Ben laughed, tilting his head back. "Well, I was hoping you'd sneak into the monastery by night."

You looked at him – at this beautiful, exasperating, filthy-mouthed dreamer who somehow had crawled into your ribs and never left — and it hit you again, deep in your chest.

“What if he’s right, though?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “What if you wake up one day and realize you are like him?”

Ben’s eyes snapped to you, all trace of teasing gone. “Don’t say that.”

You held up your palms in defense. “I’m not trying to pick a fight.”

“I know,” he said gently. “But it’s not gonna happen.”

You swallowed hard, turning back to your tinkering on the bench to occupy both your hands and mind with something else. “Just feels like we’re running toward something, and I don’t know if it’s our future or a brick wall.”

He blew out a slow breath, raking a hand through his hair. “You know what your problem is? You’ve got this whole wild, brilliant mind, and somehow it still makes room for the worst-case scenario.”

You sighed a little, even though your whole body wanted to scream the truth. “It’s just... I’ve seen it happen. People chasing comfort until they don’t recognize themselves anymore.”

Ben frowned. “You think I don’t ask myself that? That I don’t lie awake some nights wondering if it’s all carved in stone? That no matter how much I fight it, I’m gonna end up like him?”

You swallowed thickly, heart heavy in your chest.

“You really think I’m that close to being him?” he asked then, voice rough around the edges, and you knew all he wanted to hear was that you believed in him – that you knew he was good and would never, ever walk down that path of darkness.

But how could you with everything you knew?

You glimpsed at your chalkboard – at the unfinished and unsolvable equations, which were supposed to tell that you were on the right track. That this was the way to fight goddamn fate.

But there was no comfort written chalk.

“I don’t want to think that,” you said carefully, eyes focused on the copper wire in your hands. “But you grew up in his world. You know how to fake it. You’re good at it. And sometimes… I don’t know. What if one day it’s easier to go back to that than keep fighting it?”

Especially if I’m gone and can’t be the angel on your shoulder, your mind added in silence.

Because you knew the future. You knew what happened when he did go back, when the fight drained out of him, when he let the numbness win. You’d seen what he’d become. You’d stood in the ruins of it once.

Ben was quiet for a long time.

“Look, if I ever did go back to that life, the only way I could survive it is if I drowned myself in it. Booze, whores, money, noise. Numb myself enough to forget what I gave up. To forget you,” he said, a bitter, broken smile crossing his lips. “And even then, I’d still hate every minute of it because you’re not there.”

You tried to be brave. You really did. But some dark little knot still twisted behind your ribs.

Outside, thunder rolled across the hills, guttural and ominous. The wind picked up, rattling the door of the shed as the sky began to dim, announcing a summer storm. It felt like the entire universe was angry with you for meddling with its plans as well.

You opened your mouth to reply, but Ben’s hands were suddenly at your waist, slow and deliberate as he stepped up flush behind you. You froze for a second before he leaned in, breath warm against your ear.

“Stop worrying so much, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dropping to a low, seductive tone, all grit and gravel. “I told you. I’m not leaving you. And I’d burn the whole goddamn world down before I let anyone take you from me.”

Well, considering the circumstances, that vow was less romantic than he probably thought it’d be.

“Don’t seduce me in the middle of an electrocution hazard.” You gave him a look but were barely able to hide the smile.

He only ever came to visit you in the shed for two reasons: either venting about his father or missing you. Today seemed to be both.

Ben shrugged innocently behind you and picked up a spool of copper wire and toyed with it, rolling it between his fingers like he was picturing using it on you. All the while, his wolfish green eyes kept dipping to the hem of your dress.

“Just thinkin’... Might be our last moment of peace before the circus hits tomorrow.”

“Smooth.” You grinned teasingly, but the flicker in your stomach betrayed how quickly the heat spread. “This is a workshop. A sacred place for science. No seduction allowed.”

His hands put their attention back to your waist, gliding slow and warm around your hips. “Come on. Even Einstein went for a roll in the hay. Probably.”

You snorted. “You’re a menace.”

“And you love it.” He kissed just behind your ear, sending sparks all the way down your spine. “Love when I take what’s mine.”

His hands roamed your body, slow and deliberate, fingertips grazing over the fabric of your dress. You could already feel how hard he was, pressing into you, lazy and thick.

You leaned back into him instinctively. “Ben, George could walk in any second–”

“Then I better be quick.” He smirked against your skin, one hand sliding down your side, fingers playing with the skirt of your dress, bold and purposeful. “Besides, I like when you worry. Makes you clamp around me like you’re trying to keep me inside.”

“Benjamin!”

He chuckled, deep and warm like bourbon and sin. “C’mon, baby, been thinking about you all damn day,” he muttered into your neck. “While my father lectured me on mergers and legacy and how I’ve ‘wasted enough time on distractions’ – he meant you, by the way.”

“Sure.” You huffed a laugh that died in your throat when his palms skimmed your stomach, hot and broad.

“And I just kept thinking about you in here, grease and chalk on your cheeks, dress wrinkled, legs bare, tinkering with all your little mad scientist toys. And all I wanted was to–,” he kissed the spot just behind your jaw, where your pulse spiked, “–come bend you over this bench and ruin you where you make magic outta junk.”

You felt his belt unbuckle behind you – quick and practiced. Clink.

Ben’s hand slipped lower, and you gasped as his thick, long fingers found the slick heat between your thighs.

“Christ, honey… No panties?” His voice was ragged, laced with a reverence that made your cheeks burn.

“It’s too hot for cotton, okay?” You giggled weakly, your breath catching several times in the middle of it as his fingers kept exploring.

“Already so wet for me, huh, little genius?” he rasped between littering kisses along your neck and shoulder.

“Yeah, well, congrats. I’ve got a Pavlovian response to belt buckles now,” you quipped breathlessly.

“You know,” he murmured, pointer finger sliding between your folds before he faintly pressed against your clit, “you’re real dangerous when you say all those fancy words I don’t understand. Gets me all hot under the collar.”

“Everything gets you hot.”

“Damn right.” He smirked, teeth nibbling on your shoulder. “Can’t help it. I’m fucking obsessed with you, sweetheart. My little physicist. My brilliant, stubborn, filthy-minded girl who makes sparks fly – literally – and has no idea how sexy she is when she’s mouthing off with pliers in her hand.”

Your brain short-circuited when he then pressed closer, grinding against the curve of your ass, thick, heavy, and leaking. Middle finger joined the lonely one, rubbing soft circles over your bundle of nerves that made you squirm in his hold.

“Ben–”

“Shh,” he hushed, the smugness undeniable in bis voice, “Just let me take care of you, baby. ‘M managing your stress levels like the good, attentive boyfriend I am.”

You snorted half a whimper, involuntarily clenching around the emptiness in your cunt. And Ben noticed, grinned wider.

But that was what always wrecked you the most. The soft edge under the filth, the reverence in his voice even as he played you like a sinful little instrument, the way he touched you like you were both holy and his to ruin. It was as addictive as any vice in this world.

One drag of a cigarette and now you were doing heroin.

Your brain, traitorous and unhelpful, already began calculating angles of entry, force of friction, and how quickly you could achieve orgasm before George walked in looking for his wrench set again.

Ben gathered the fabric of your skirt, fingers raking it slowly up your thigh, bunching it at your waist. His other hand pressed to the small of your back, guiding you to lean slightly over the workbench like you were his own personal offering.

His lips trailed down your spine, lazy, messy, and sinful as always. You braced your palms on the bench, white-knuckling around the edge.

His knee nudged your legs farther apart, grip firm and tight around your waist. He stroked himself behind you, your ears picking up the slick drag of skin over velvet hardness.

Your thighs trembled shamelessly, and then – he pressed the thick, perfect head of his cock between your legs.

And just… stayed there. Teasing. Lingering. Rubbing.

He didn’t move. Just rocked, slow and torturous, coating himself in your arousal without giving you what you needed most.

Mother of Einstein, have mercy.

Ben grinned against your neck when a little whine escaped you. “That’s it, baby. Let me feel how much you need it. Say you missed me.”

“I saw you four hours ago.” You made a noise that was half a snort and half a gasp. “And you already defiled me twice this morning.”

“Say it anyway.”

“I’m gonna strangle you with your own belt if you keep doing this,” you threatened playfully, panting.

“Promise?” Ben’s grin was downright wolfish.

You smiled, amused. “I missed you.”

“Good girl.”

And then he pushed in with one rough, filthy thrust that knocked the air out of your lungs.

You cried out at the sharp snap of his hips as he buried himself to the hilt, stretching you open inch by burning inch. His grip on you was iron-tight, holding you in place like he never wanted you to get away.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he growled. “Still so wet. Still so goddamn tight, even after everything I’ve done to you.”

His hips started moving, deep and steady, claiming you over the workbench with every thrust. Rough, demanding, possessive.

“Ben–... fuck,” you moaned, helpless under the weight of him, under the fire igniting low in your belly.

Your body arched into his rhythm, every drag of his cock through your walls hitting deep, just right to make you delirious. The bench creaked beneath you, tools rattling with each movement, but you didn’t care. Maybe the only consistent variable in your life now was Ben – his hands, his heat, his cock filling you so perfectly it felt like your soul rebooted.

If George walked in, you’d probably just wave and tell him to knock next time – and maybe explain the wiring diagram mid-orgasm.

Hell, let the blue-blooded ghosts of Ben’s ancestors hear your strangled moans and spin in their fucking graves.

One of his hands then slipped to the front, rubbing tight, merciless circles over your clit again with ruthless fingers. The other one stayed flat against your lower back, pinning you in place while he took you – every stroke thick and relentless, your body jolting forward with every pound.

The brutal snap of his hips turned feral. Harder. Faster. Rougher. Sharp teeth grazed your shoulder, his hand squeezing your hip tight enough for a bruise to stay – at least for a little while.

Somewhere in the haze of sweat and slick skin and unspeakably sinful noises, you wondered if this was the real reason women didn’t get credit for their work – because the moment they tried to make history, some man came along and railed it out of them.

And now you were getting bent over a workbench with a genius brain and absolutely no coherent thought left.

The rush hit like a wave crashing over rocks – hot and shattering and all-consuming. You bucked back into him, crying out his name with a broken moan, barely muffled by your arm. Your body clenched and spasmed hard around him, knees buckling as he fucked you through it.

“Jesus, that’s it, baby. You takin’ it like a goddamn dream,” he growled low in your ear, losing control as your walls fluttered around him.

He punishingly drove in deep once, twice more for good measure, spilling inside you in hot pulses and with a groan that sounded like it had been clawing its way out of his throat since sunrise.

Thank fucking God for your IUD. In close to five months, he’d never asked once about protection. You honestly didn’t know what was going on in that head of his sometimes.

The shudder of his hips then rocked both of you against the table. The room stilled, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex and sawdust. Ben slumped forward, pressing his face into the back of your shoulder, breathing heavy.

“Next time, warn me before you whip your belt off like a gunslinger,” you panted with a cheeky smile.

“Next time,” Ben rasped, nuzzling your neck, “I’ll tie your wrists with it.”

You wheezed, shaking your head, still breathless. “Why are you like this?”

Ben pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, then the back of your neck, smug grin underneath, still twitching inside you.

He pulled out of you slowly, carefully smoothing your wrinkled skirt down before tucking himself in. Then he spun you to face him, holding your wobbly frame.

“All you, honey,” he replied, smirk smug and wide and lazy. He pecked your lips. “I’m gonna marry the hell out of you one day.”

Your heart almost jumped out of your ribcage. Was he serious? Was he thinking about that? You hadn’t even thought about that.

Ben then pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and stuck one between his lips.

You arched an eyebrow. “You better not think about lighting that in here.”

He snorted, square still stuck between his teeth, matchstick in hand. “You plan on filing a complaint with the shed manager?”

“No, you idiot, but you light that in here, we’re both going up like a firecracker before the party tomorrow,” you sassed. You were not about to go up in flames in a toxic sex crypt.

Ben laughed, tucking the nail behind his ear instead.

“You’re lucky I still let you in here. Truly, you’re the worst kind of distraction,” you quipped.

Ben had the audacity to look proud of himself. “You practically begged me to stay.”

“Oh, please, I only tolerate your presence because you’re decent in bed and occasionally bring snacks,” you teased him further.

“Decent?” he repeated, turning toward you with a wounded look in jest. “Decent? Woman, you were seeing stars five minutes ago.”

“You’re confusing an orgasm with a head rush from the lack of ventilation in here.” You grinned, then fully giggled when he barked a laugh and grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You let yourself be folded into him, the warmth of his body anchoring you like it always did. The wind was whistling outside, the light that filtered into the shed through the cracks darkening. You could smell the rain in the air now – wet soil and electricity – before thunder roared once more across the garden like cannon fire.

Ben then took your hand, gesturing toward the door. “Come on, let’s get inside before the storm hits.”

You nodded, but your eyes drifted back to the chalkboard full of half-erased symbols, smudged like the memories of him you couldn’t clean off, as if meaning might surface if you stared hard enough. A futile map for a journey you were already too lost to finish.

But you squeezed his hand and followed him into the dark anyway, hoping you could outrun the storm a little longer.

▶️ Chapter 10: Here's Looking at You, Kid

I'm fully aware you guys have a love-hate relationship with this chapter. Ben dreaming, reader worrying, and a Fourth of July party next week?! Well, let's light 'em up! 🎆🧨👀

Coming Up:

On your way back to the garden, the empty mansion echoed faintly with distant music and laughter from outside. And then there he was:

Richard Brooks was already waiting, posted by the doorway to his study like a vulture smelling fresh meat.

“Miss,” he said, not even bothering to finish your name. “Inside. Now.”

“I was just heading back to the party,” you said, forcing a polite smile.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he said and opened the door with one hand and stepped back, waiting like a man who never heard the word no.

You walked past him, breath shallow, pulse fluttering like a caged bird. And then it was just you, Richard Brooks, and the scent of whiskey and old power clinging to the room like rot.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, absentmindedly pouring himself a glass of bourbon. “Making friends. Charming donors. Wiggling your way in like a parasite.”

Your fingers curled slightly at your sides. Careful. Controlled. “What exactly is it you want from me, Mr. Brooks?”

“I want to make this very simple,” he said, stepping closer with the slow gravity of a man used to the world bowing to him. “You want money? I’ll give you money. You walk away from my son. Tonight. I don’t care where you go, but you disappear. And in return, I’ll write you a check large enough to make sure you never have to get your hands dirty again.”

🚀 Read up to 4 chapters ahead on Patreon now

Tag List Pt. 1:

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[foureyedfella]

☆ Still busy on this final stretch of school before I can draw anything that takes more than like an hour to draw, so how do doodles sound for the time being?

☆ if you're wondering why they're mostly Don and macho related that's becuase they have penetrated my brain, I'm scheduling a surgery soon to get them out

☆ Doodle based off of "average guy being the belt holder" comments, which are funny in hindsight but guys!! Be nice to him he earned that belt trust

☆ Body study/practice

☆ More SuperRose who is surprised? Older supperrose because it's fun and I love them. Around April-May you can tell whose ready for summer to come and who's suffering from pollen

☆ Teeny Don :) he is the conductor of ants he will guide their way

☆ Them AGAIN

☆ Magma doodles of guess who

☆ SUPER! MACHO! MA'AM!!!

☆ Based off friend yap sesh, literally never let him grow that again.

[thegreatwizardelwin]

The Sea Hare: Scene 1 

A Freminet x Gn! Reader

Reader is a theater kid, vision holder, and upcoming librettist. They have been close friends with Freminet for some time now, but as it would happen, the symphony of their hearts has begun to swell. Crescendo!

You paced around your studio, acting out a scene for an upcoming show that was being written. As the librettist, you were in charge of writing the spoken dialogue. 

“Constantine, you poison me with your words of calumny! The more I am beside you, the more I hate the people of the world.” you exclaimed in character. “No, that’s no good.” you tapped your foot for a moment before returning to the typewriter and settling on a different line.

In the midst of your work, there was a knock on the door.

“Enter!” you called from the desk.

Through the door came Freminet, one of your good friends, escorted by the receptionist for the building.

“Oh, it’s you! Evening, Fremi!”

He looked around the studio, taking in everything. A moving staircase with small spotlights. A barren stage below it and other equipment to the side; microphone stands, low quality props, and a piano covered by a sheet.

“Good evening. So, this is the new studio you mentioned?” he questioned.

“Mhm, this is where I work, for now. It’s a lovely little arrangement, nice and quiet and next to the lyricist I work with frequently.” you explained, rising.

Freminet wandered over to you. His gaze was curious, wanting to know more about your work. The two of you stood, simply staring at each other. You pursed your lips, awkwardly looking away. 

“Would you like to see the manuscript so far?” you walked to the desk, seating yourself. He followed.

“Sure!” he said, placing his hands on the back of your chair and leaning forward.

You handed back a couple papers you had already typed up. Some had pen scribblings on them where you had made typing errors.

He looked over them with interest for a little while, having ransacked another chair and made himself cozy.

“How does one write dialogue so well? Do you just sit here and think about it?” he asked, handing the papers back to you.

You chuckled and took the papers. Then, you began to traipse your way across the room to the stage.

“Yes, but I also do some experimenting. I can act out what I write to make sure it feels natural, and to visualize how the real performers might take it.” you explained. 

You cleared your throat and began reading from the page in your hand. “Oh, Mr. Letterman, you are too late! That train has already left.” you spoke expressively, acting as a train conductor. You then pivoted and took on a new role: “For Archon’s sake! …Perhaps it is for the best that I never see her again.” you dramatically turned away from the now invisible conductor.

Freminet cocked his head, amused by your little performance.

“You have such charisma, why not try acting yourself?” he asked.

You paused, arms falling to your side, the paper making a crinkling sound.

“My stage fright is terrible.” you admitted. “I can handle one or two people, but entire crowds… I lose my voice and just stare off into space. But I still love theater, so I decided to be behind the scenes instead.”

Freminet looked down at the paper in the typewriter.

“You write good.” he commented quietly.

You smiled at him, using your vision to swiftly appear by his side. He shifted a bit, surprised by your closeness.

“And what about you, dear Freminet? Can you act?” you grabbed his shoulders and gently escorted him to the stage as well.

He made a sound of discomfort being moved, looking around at the stage.

“No.” he said flatly. “I’m too… calm… for it all.”

You laughed a bit. 

“There are plenty of calmer parts in shows!” you reminded him.

“I know but you have to be so exaggerated so that the audience can get it!”

“Not necessarily-”

“I’m too shy.” he stated with finality. “I don’t… I don’t even know how to be myself around others half the time. How could I be someone else?”

You backed off, sensing he was serious. You took his arms and spun him in a slow circle.

“Individuality is easy to know but hard to express, hmm?” you said, walking over to the steps of the mobile stairway.

He sighed softly, looking down at his boots.

“You’re right. But you seem to express yourself just fine!” he turned to you.

You gave him a little laugh.

“I’m not as open as you think. There are bits and pieces I guard too, you know. And, it’s ok to be quiet and not be conversational, that’s part of who you are.” you ran your hand up the railing.

“I’ve been this way since I was a little kid, though, I feel like I should be growing more open as I get older.” he put his hands on his hips, looking up at you.

You leaned on the railing.

“You wait, little boy, on an empty stage for fate to turn the light on.”

You flicked the small spotlight on, illuminating Freminet and the stage. He jumped, covering his eyes with his hands. 

“Your life, little boy, is an empty page that people want to write on.”

He gave you a dry glance.

“Stop quoting old musicals.”

“Timid and shy and scared are you of things beyond your ken~”

You giggled, flicking the light back off.

He pouted slightly.

“You’re not listening to me.” he mumbled, crossing his arms.

You descended the stairs.

“I hear you loud and clear, but I just like seeing you get all annoyed with me.” you patted his head, passing by him on the way back to your desk.

He blushed a little, accentuating his freckles. 

“Rude.” he huffed, yet trailed behind you like a duckling. “When are you going home?”

“In an hour or so. Do you want to wait and walk with me?” you perked up.

He nodded in confirmation. 

“I’d like that.”

+

You strolled down the streets of Fontaine, Freminet at your side. It was a humid twilight, having rained an hour or so ago. The lights of the city were just beginning to stand out, glistening in the puddles.

You were both rather quiet on the walk. Freminet was always quiet, of course, but for some reason he was distracted tonight. 

Arriving at your boarding house, you faced each other. He looked at you expectantly. You wrapped your arms around him, inhaling his fresh scent. He was quick to squeeze you, resting his cheek on your shoulder. 

Of course you had to make all the first moves, no matter how much he wanted it. It was part of his nature.

He’s so touch starved, you thought to yourself, feeling a little flustered at how much he clung to you. His gloved hands pressed against your back, keeping you close. 

You gingerly broke away. His eyes were glued to the ground, a soft pink dusting his face. He had the sweetest smile.

“Night, Y/N.” he spoke, waving shortly and continuing on his way.

“Night, Fremi.” you responded; a little lost, watching him walk away.

You opened the door to the boarding house, moved inside, shut the door, and took a deep breath. 

Whoa.

You sank to the floor, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden. 

Your landlady looked up from her book and coffee.

“Oh? Y/N, what’s the matter?” she asked, a little concerned.

“Not sure.” you muttered absentmindedly, drawing your knees up to your body and staring at nothing in particular. Your heart was racing.

Freminet is the matter.

She set her things down, approaching you.

“You’ve practically collapsed, are you feeling sick or tired?”

“Ms. Maddie…  I can hardly breathe!” you said wistfully, your tone conveying exactly what you were feeling.

It clicked for her. Being an old lady, she knew quite a few things about youngins.

“Were you with someone you like?” she suggested.

“Well, it was a close friend. But I…” your mouth hung open, picturing Freminet’s docile blue eyes, “I don’t like him… like that.” 

That was more of a question now than a statement. 

It was ridiculous really. You were always affectionate with him, it was bound to grow genuine at some point.

Ms. Maddie chuckled as old ladies do when they find something amusing.

“He takes your breath away it would seem.” she noted.

“I’m being silly.” you closed your eyes, leaning back against the door. “But then again he really is so…” you hid your face. “Why is this happening!”

“I think, Y/N, you are developing a crush on this friend.” she stated obviously. 

“I guess,” you conceded, “but, that complicates everything. Now that I’ve admitted it, it will be harder to ignore it.”

“Hmmm… then maybe you shouldn’t do that. You never know, it could be mutual.”

You spaced out even more at the notion that Freminet might feel love for you.

Ms. Maddie walked you to your room.

“Now, if you need anything else you come knocking, alright?”

“Thank you, Ms. Maddie.” 

You locked the door for the night and prepared for bed.

Nice, cozy pillows and blankets awaited you. A thought slipped into your mind about being able to sleep beside Freminet one day. To see him tired and peaceful and resting rather than the diffident little sand crab he was normally.

I’m losing my MIND. you lightly smacked your cheeks. But maybe she’s right. I’m not one to throw away my shot!

You rolled over, pulling the covers up over your shoulders, dead set on finding some way to express these emotions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sooo what do we think about theater kid mc? I just wanted to do something different i drew mimi on my computer but its too silly to use for the cover art

doodlebob freminet

Part 2:

[nejackdaw]

Baton update: the Finale

Guys I have done it. I strapped on my wax wings and unlike Icarus did not crash and burn. The baton. Is finished. And so is the base. Finished them both today. I might not have ever been much of a crafts guy but I am INCREDIBLY pleased with the final results. This started out as a pipe dream and now it's reality. Don't let your dreams be dreams etc etc

Showing her off first 💞💞💞 I'll add the rest of the images below a cut so this post isn't a mile long but AHHHHHH IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!! Guys I've been working on this since May but I was determined to finish it before the year let out

Here's the baton itself. What a beautiful pain in my ass. It's a regular 12" conductors baton so trying to turn it into Zelda's definitely not 12" Glorious Baton was. Awkward. I winged this entire thing. The grip/spiral is a rubber band. (Two, actually.) It's held together by sheer determination and super glue. I colored those pink roses with marker. The tail parts are made out of cardboard (half from a non corrugated bit off a package flap and half from a graham cracker box.). I couldn't find a wired ribbon to use for the end so I just cut a length of wire and fucking sewed it to the ribbon. Improvise, adapt, overcome.

The display base was simultaneously more and less of a hassle than the baton. Much less fine, close quarter work, much more difficulty getting things to stay put (this is a callout post for the garland, I'm looking directly at you.) Initially I made the actual display holder, which is 100% just painted wooden skewers, then I took MORE package cardboard and used that as the base. If I was a little more insane I'd add tiny lights somehow so the triforce could light up. The garland was. An absolute pain just 100% from having to decide which leaf extensions to remove to positioning them to trying to attach the damn thing (challenge: nearly impossible.) BUT it is surprisingly sturdy for what amounts to a piece of cardboard and some tiny sticks. I just now added that central support piece and the extra flowers today, because unfortunately the baton is top heavy and without it it just... Well. Spun itself upside down. The foam flowers themselves added a shocking amount of weight to it, but it's the baby's breath that really weighs it down. Not that it's heavy--it's very nice to hold in the hand, but again, it likes to spin itself around if only supported at the ends.

It kinda doesn't feel real. I still honestly feel like I should wake up tomorrow and go "I'm gonna work on my baton today!" I think my brain is in denial lmao. Been working on this thing for seven months, man. This year has DEFINITELY been my introduction to crafting year, and I had a blast. After all that time, and it's finally complete. Thank you to the Legend of Zelda for always being a massive inspiration to me throughout my life. Wow. Reality really can be whatever I want. I made myself a prop/display piece out of random materials and a dream

[flightfoot]

Hey, do you have any good recommendations for Lukadrigaminette or Julerose fics? Mostly canon-compliant. No fantasy or western AUs, but stuff like Adrien never going to school is fine.

Yeah sure, I've got some stuff for you!

The Quartet's Duet by timeandspace_lord

In which Kagami and Luka attempt to get two idiots to fall in love. Instead, four idiots realize they were already in love. Based a lot on Determination and Wishmaker specifically. ~~~ It was only a matter of time, he told himself. Sooner or later they’d stumble into the same secret he had and realize they were made for each other. And if they needed a helping hand to get there, a conductor for the symphony of their lives together, he was more than happy to take on that role. Kagami nodded firmly. She’d known that Marinette was Adrien’s true target from the beginning, but it had taken longer for her to get over her own jealousy and realize that the other girl was also the correct target. Now that she no longer had blinders on, it was obvious the two were meant to be together. If she could help them realize it, so much the better.

---

Hold Me By Both Hands by @angelofthequeers

“I know he said never to take you back,” Plagg mutters. “But he’d change his tune if he knew.” He looks Adrien straight in the eye and, more serious than Adrien’s ever seen him before, says, “There’s someone you gotta meet. He’s been looking for that book for ages.” How differently might the events of season 2 have gone if Adrien had also known of Master Fu from the start?

Honestly, I think this is one of the best ML fics EVER, and I've read a LOT of ML fics. It's a re-imagining of seasons 2 and 3, with Lila sticking around the whole time, lots of discussion and growth of all the major players in the fic, and some truly amazing character arcs. It features what I consider the BEST Chloe redemption arc to date, with looking at where she started in the early seasons and having her actually figure out reasons why she wants to be better, and what that looks like. If you've watched The Good Place, it's like that.

I wrote a 26,000 word essay analyzing the various subplots in the fic, that's how intricate it is.

---

holding onto the memory of you by @fruitdragon1a

For MLB Femslash February 24! Day 10: Juleka/Rose 'hold', 'dress' Juleka and Rose are on the métro when something happens to Rose.

---

You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess by @mexicancat-girl

With Team Miraculous now full-time holders, Ladybug has them patrolling in pairs like her and Chat Noir. New partners Pigella and Purple Tigress get along phenomenally, their easy banter and similar wavelengths making working with each other a joy in and out of combat. But sometimes Tigress is surprised just how close she is with her partner. Sometimes she tries not to feel too guilty thinking about it.

There’s some nice Julerose here! I love them kinda getting into a lovesquare with each other, though it’s not as much of a problem as it is in canon since it’s reciprocal in every relationship and they’re both down for a poly. It’s fun, and I love the “Luka attempting to woo some of his love interests” plot going on in the background XD.

---

Everything I need by @coffeebanana

When Ladybug asks Pigella to care for her injured teammate, she wants to refuse. She's not the best person for the job, and she's not sure if Purple Tigress even likes her. But Ladybug insists, so Pigella fights through her fear and tends to Tigress' injury. It doesn't make things any easier that Tigress keeps reminding her of Juleka.

---

Ink, Skin, and Hearts by EpicNerd

For Rose and Juleka, the topic of soulmates is surprisingly a difficult one.

---

I hope these catch your fancy (especially Hold Me By Both Hands, that fic is a must-read).

[wejusthereforthefanart]

I've Rediscovered Meet The Robinsons

And now I'm going to make it everyone else's problem by shoving my headcanons in your faces. *And you're going to like them.*

The Framagucci siblings have gone no-contact with their toxic parents. Evidence? Well, I don't have any, I just like the idea that Lewis yearned to be a part of a loving family and fell in love with a girl who grew up in a family with not-so-loving parents.

Art is the oldest, Gaston is the middle child, and Franny is the baby. I can picture Art having a job in high school in order to help pay the bills, which then shaped his work ethic and gave him a passion for his current job. Unfortunately, that also made him a bit of a workaholic.

Gaston was never considered a "forgotten" middle child, as he made sure he got the most attention from the whole town. He's even a record holder for "most banned citizen", as he's prohibited from most of the local stores and restaurants.

Franny is one of the only family members with a criminal record, after she incited a riot in a concert hall when the conductor tried to step on her frog, Frankie. Gaston insisted on putting a printed copy of her mugshot into the family scrapbook.

Bud and Lucille only argue about one thing during their entire marriage--the pronunciation of the word "pecan". It had gotten so intense that Bud spent a week sleeping on the couch, until they both forgot what they were fighting about.

Cornelius and Billie have bonded over their time spent in orphanages. While Cornelius shared his feelings about being abandoned as a baby and never understanding why his mother left him on the doorstep, Billie confided in him about how her parents had regularly dumped her at an orphanage throughout her childhood, whenever they "needed a break". Once she turned eighteen, she left their house for good and began train hopping across her home country.

Tallulah's love for history was Cornelius' original motivation to inventing the time machine, and he allowed Laszlo to help design the prototype so he didn't feel left out.

While Fritz' puppet, Petunia, is modeled after his late wife's appearance, her personality has since become angrier and more tumultuous due to his grief upon her passing. She has even scared off several therapists over the years.

Joe runs a fitness blog in which he reviews workout videos, offering advice to improve the instructors' lessons. While he didn't pursue a career with it, he has a master's degree in kinesiology.

Laszlo and Tallulah have a former step-mother, who the family avoids talking about to the point that Wilbur still has no idea she exists. Her relationship with Fritz ended poorly.

Wilbur started his own conspiracy theory about himself being a time traveler, which many people over the years have believed and discussed online.

Spike and Dimitri are, in fact, related to one side of the family. Which side? Doesn't matter.

[malicitor-bah]

Hello!! may we please request a monster level (if that's too much you can just do critter) subsystem of 5 / 4 people (preferably masc) could they also all follow a horror/circus type theme? ^^ thank you in advance if you end up doing this request!!

-🪦

Bobby "felt silly and took the hardcore route 👅👅"

Couldn't sent more photos because of the limits 💔💔

Cut because biggest flood ever

🐉Name: RingMaster

🐉Age: 50-60

🐉Gender/Sexuality: Man // Heterosexual

🐉Pronouns: He/Him, They/Them, Master/Master

🐉Species: Human

🐉Emojis: 🎪🪄👩‍🦲

🐉Role: Gatekeeper, Disciplinarian, Conductor

🐉Colour: #b400b5

🐉Behaviour:

The conductor and protector of the system. A very wise and kind guy who only wants the best for his fellow Headmates, even in rough times.

Very respected by his peers and almost gets considered from loyalty or a king.

🐉Triggers:

Positive= His circus, circuses, performances

Negative= His circus or his headmates being threatened

🐉CisID: BlueEyesCIS, MediumBuildCIS, BrownHairCIS, CaringCIS, KindCIS, SoftSpokenCIS, IntrovertedCIS

🐉TransID: TransFat, TransGreyHair, TransAmbivert, TransEnergetic, TransLoud

🐉Para: 🐢?, 📖, 🦖, 💍, 💰

🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪

🐉Name: Thiger

🐉Age: Young Adult

🐉Gender/Sexuality: Male, FelineGender, TigerGender // Bisexual: males and females

🐉Pronouns: He/Him, It/Its, They/Them, Tiger/Tigers, 🐯/🐯s, 🔥/🔥s

🐉Species: Asian Tiger

🐉Emojis: 🐅🔥⭕

🐉Colour: #ff5c00

🐉Role: Syspet, Service Animal, Perpetrator

🐉Behaviour:

Thiger is... A tiger... Who does tiger stuff...

But he's not just any tiger: she can combust and show off their flaming glory. Beware the ones who try to challenge him, because tiger doesn't stand any conflict.

🐉Triggers:

Positive= other tigers, flames, fire, smoke, feline things

Negative= disrupting the peace, arguments

🐉CisID: BlueEyesCIS, MuscularCIS, StrongVoiceCIS, TallCIS, AgileCIS, SharpTeethCIS, SharpClawsCIS

🐉TransID: TransGoldenEyes, TransFlaming, TransSmokingLooking, TransFast, TransSerratedClaws

🐉Para: ❣️👁️, 🦠🐱💜, 🐈🐾?, 🔖🐾, 🍖

🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪

🐉Name: Janus

🐉Age: Unknown, Adult

🐉Gender/Sexuality: Pangender // Pansexual

🐉Pronouns: They/Them, It/Its, Void/Voids/Voidself, Thing/Thing, Jest/Jests, Clown/Clowns, ⭐/⭐s, 🎭/🎭s, 🤡/🤡s

🐉Species: Unknown, Eldritch Horror, manifests as an astral jester/clown

🐉Emojis: 🌌✨🎭

🐉Colour: #ddcefd

🐉Role: Socializor, Jokestar, Prankster

🐉Behaviour:

No one knows what Janus truly is... But everyone knows that Janus is two faced.

One spectacle, it's the one being goofy and silly; and in the other, They're the one ridiculing the target of interest.

Janus seems to not have any ill intent, but some of ⭐s pranks went way too far.

🐉Triggers:

Positive= Theatre, Performances, Pranks, Tricks

Negative= Being ignored, loneliness

🐉CisID: AmalgamationCIS, EldritchHorrorCIS, VoidFormCIS, ShapeshifterCIS, FloatingCIS

🐉TransID: TransHumanoid, TransJesterAestetic, TransClownAestetic, TransGlowingEyes, TransTall, TransDistortedVoice

🐉Para: 💭🧿, 🍳⚙️, 🌈🥄

🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪

🐉Name: Emmett

🐉Age: Ageless, Child

🐉Gender/Sexuality: DemiNonBinary= Masculine // Objectum, Asexual

🐉Pronouns: He/Him, It/Its, They/Them, Horse/Horses, Carrousel/Carrousels, Move/Moves, Spiral/Spirals, ✨/✨s, 🎠/🎠s, 🌀/🌀s

🐉Species: Talking Object, Carousel Horse

🐉Emojis: 🎠🎪✨

🐉Colour: #fcff72

🐉Role: Comforter, Music Holder, Beauheur, Little

🐉Behaviour:

Emmett is the group Music manager, listener and composer. Often making soothing and joyous sounds to make his pals feel better... But it did sometimes write sad theatrical music upon request.

They're joyous in nature, always wanting to comfort others and bring them joy, often accompanied with a motivational soundtrack in the background.

Despite horses good intentions, carrousels appearance and movements are a bit creepy because they're stiff and got bad proportions.

🐉Triggers:

Positive= Carousels, Horses, Music, Joy

Negative= Sadness, silence

🐉CisID: ObjectCIS, CarouselHorseCIS, ImmobileCIS, ExtrovertCIS, FriendlyCIS, CaringCIS, DeadEyesCIS, LongNeckCIS

🐉TransID: TransMobile, TransCircusAestetic, TransMusicist, TransAgile

🐉Para: None ❌

🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪

🐉Name: Parighosh

🐉Age: Immortal, 20-30

🐉Gender/Sexuality: Masculine, GhostGender, Drag // Homosexual

🐉Pronouns: He/Him, They/Them, Ghost/Ghosts/Ghostself, Acro/Acros, Acrobat/Acrobats, 👻/👻s, ⛓️/⛓️s

🐉Species: Human, Ghost

🐉Emojis: 👻🤸‍♀️⛓️

🐉Colour: #4342ff

🐉Role: Performer

🐉Behaviour:

Parighosh lives to perform and be an acrobat. Doing artistic tasks is what brings him more happiness... But they will also do mundane tasks.

While performing, ghost often becomes semi transparent or smoky to release a more heavy and dramatic/cool effect.

Acro also likes to try out different costumes everyday and be more colourful

🐉Triggers:

Positive= Ghosts, Acrobats, Performing, Theatrical arts, dressing up

Negative= Staying still, boredom

🐉CisID: HumanCIS, BlackHairCIS, BrownHairCIS, TallCIS, ExtrovertCIS

🐉TransID: TransUndead, TransGhost, TransPerformer, TransAcrobat, TransSmoky, TransSemiTransparent

🐉Para: 🎭, 🔗, 🪢, 🌠, 👻, 💀🖤, 🪽🤍, 🗣️💕💬

🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪🎪

~💙✨🃏

[block-tales-headcanons]

placing down my head canons for the class...

mayor thaniyel... he's homophobic... 😰😔😭 /j

Actually though, here's my headcanons. :]

(BLOCK TALES SPOILERS FOR ALL CHAPTERS OBVIOUSLY)

Noobador is Red and Blue's uncle on Green's side of the family (i.e. Green is Noobador's brother, he is also the older sibling).

Noobador's actual name is Yellow, he simply normally goes by this alias to help separate himself from Green's criminal activity (being his brother and all).

To add onto that, he goes by Yellow only when there's no one but Purple, Green, Red or Blue around)

Purple and Green are both trans (MtF and FtM. No, this doesn't mean I think trans people are criminals, this head canon spawned when I was watching someone's gameplay and they accidentally voiced Green with a feminine voice and Purple with a masculine one, and I just thought this would be a cool head canon. Also bonus points for t4t 🙏🙏🙏)

The Noob family (Purple, Green, Noobador, Red, and Blue) were born in and grew up around Turitopulis (based on your first encounter with Purple and Green in chapter 2)

Speaking of which, Noobador moved to Bizville to pursue his career as a luchador and train conductor. This was also to separate himself from their criminal activity. He brought Red and Blue with him as well, knowing that they were going to indoctrinate them into criminality when they were old enough

Red and Blue (as well as their parents) are very good at climbing due to growing up at Turitopulis, and like doing so around places whenever they can.

Cruel King is like- in his late 50s to 60s

Shedletsky, Mayor Thaniyel, and Cruel King were also childhood friends, but Cruel King drifted away from them due to the voices and his growing responsibilities as king.

Mayor Thaniyel and Shedletsky also drifted away from each other due to their responsibilities as holder of the swords, along with Mayor Thaniyel having a son.

Cruel King, when he got a hold of the Ice Dagger, started suffering symptoms of frost bite along with ice growing on his hands and face.

Mayor Thaniyel and Mayor Monty don't know each other very well, they're only acquaintances through them being both mayors.

Red and Blue were born on the same day.

Mayor Thaniyel is a widower, having lost his wife upon the birth of Griefer

Being a holder of the Venomshank causes the eyes (including sclera) to become bright red. Whereas if you're a destined/future holder of the Venomshank but have not yet received it, your eyes will still be red, but not the sclera.

Anyways, that's all I'm gonna put here for now! (Like damn that's a lot of text).

-idk uuuuh, call me "💡Anon"

damn that’s a lot I don’t think I have a meme for this the noobadoor’s actual name being yellow is so silly I love it

[the-bah-oracle]

New Moon-Sized Pack Inspired by A Snail-Themed Academic Alter.

★ Names: Moss, Mossy, River, Riverstone, Fern, Ferny, Pebble, Pebbles, Silver, Verdant, Athens, Valley, Whisper, Root, Oscar, Leaf, Sunny, Dapple, Forest, Fergus.

★ Pronouns: He/him, they/them, it/its, fae/faer, sun/sunny, sol/solar, er/earth, earth/earths, study/studier, grassy/grassier, co/coffee, book/books, day/days, idea/ideas, 🐌/🐌s, 🌱/🌱s, ☘️/☘️s, 🍀/🍀s, 🪴/🪴s, 🍃/🍃s, 🍂/🍂s, 🍃/🍂s, 🌻/🌻s, 🌼/🌼s, 🌞/🌞s, 🎒/🎒s, 📚/📚s, ✏️/✏️s, 🖍️/🖍️s.

★ Gendered Terms: Masculine informal (guy, lad, master).

★ Picrew / Pinterest Faceclaims:

Bonus Round!

(Bc we feel bad for leaving you guys on read for so long!)

★ Aesthetics: Green Academia, Fairy Academia, Goblin Academia, Chaotic Academia, Cottagecore, Campcore, Cabincore, Adventurecore, Kidcore, Goblincore, Mushroomcore, Mothcore, Positivity Kawaii, Nostalgiacore, Grandmacore.

★ Roles: Academic, Assidumate, Taskdoer, Steward, Manager, Archivist, Legacy Holder, Lorekeeper, Co-Host, Nummica, Conductor, Researcher, Social Memory Holder, Admin, Census Taker.

★ Sign-Offs: 🐌🎒, 📖🌿, 🖍️🍁, 🍀📓, 🪴✏️, 🐚📐, 🍄🎓, 🏫🌞, 🌱🐌, 📝🌻

★ Hobbies: Studying, researching random things, exploring nature, making kandi bracelets, catching up on extra work for school/occupation, sewing/crocheting/knitting, catching insects to catalogue and release afterwards, making playlists, collecting stationary, editing Wikipedia articles.

★ Song Inspo:

Yes, I know we haven’t put out anything in a while, please have this as consolation. No, we’re not dead, just… tired. Also can you tell that I saw a snail backpack and just went off the rails? -🦋🔮

[headmatespawner]

Could I have a fictive of Rambley the Raccoon from Indigo Park?? 🎨 Have fun with it!! :D

The other mod was meant to handle this, but they're on break-- I went off of the wiki! -☢️

Names: Rambley, Lilac, Laven, Clement

Age: AgelessFlux

Pronouns: He/him It/its Talk/talks, Ramble/rambles

Titles: The Conductor, Tour Guide, PRN who Rambles, One who loves to Talk, PRN who loves Trains, PRN who is Lonely.

Genders: Trendercoric, Velvetgender, Velletugender, Teencoric

Orientations: AroAce Romance-Repulsed Hyperplatonic

TransIDs: Transfriends, Transfamous, Transworshipped, Transconductor, Transstrong,

Non/Alterhumanity: Raccoon, AI

Source: Indigo Park

Roles: Anxiety Holder, Adapter

Origin: Anxietygenic, Willogenic, Altpackgenic, Tulpa

Hex: #7a51bd

FaceClaim:

[infwctednyacifier]

can i have a feminine alter who deals with bad friends/manipulation? lowest age preference is 17! thank you so much!

🗝⋆｡ ☣ ₊˚🛍️ ˚. SINGLE, ORIGINAL = BAD FRIEND HANDLER – A SECURUS

cooked :3

Name – Seraphina ,, Nanaka ,, Selene

Age – immortal / 24

Gender – cisgirl ,, faegender ,, fairygender ,, magicia ,, ecoxenic ,, fantasygender ,, pinklolitapearlic ,, softpinkfrillic ,, lolitacoric ,, strawberrybunnyplushic ,, cakefrilled ,, pinkgender ,, bimbogender ,, weirdcoric ,, angelweirdic ,, weirdcorestalgic

Pronouns – she / her ,, fairy / fairy's ,, faerie / faerie's ,, wing / wing's ,, sparkle / sparkle's ,, glimmer / glimmer's ,, swirl / swirl's ,, twirl / twirl's ,, magic / magic's ,, spell / spell's ,, wand / wand's ,, fantasy / fantasy's ,, pink / pink's ,, pearl / pearl's ,, soft / soft's ,, fluffy / fluffy's ,, frill / frill's ,, strawberry / strawberry's ,, berry / berry's ,, bunny / bunny's ,, bun / bun's ,, twitch / twitch's ,, plush / plush's ,, plushie / plushie's ,, cake / cake's ,, frosting / frosting's ,, icing / icing's ,, topping / topping's ,, bimbo / bimbo's ,, girly / girly's ,, weird / weird's ,, eye / eye's ,, void / void's ,, null / null's ,, angel / angel's ,, hymn / hymn's ,, holy / holy's ,, divine / divine's ,, nostalgia / nostalgia's ,, memory / memory's ,, remember / remember's

Orientation – heterosexual

Role – apathy manager ,, apathy holder ,, conductor ,, crafter ,, controller ,, counterweight ,, councilman ,, consul ,, confronter ,, communicator ,, coltenoir ,, diplomat ,, diffuser ,, debugger

Emojis – 🗝 ,, 🍃 ,, 🛍️ ,, 💄 ,, ☣ ,, 👁️‍🗨️

Likes – her boyfriend ,, helping people ,, Pixiecore & Barbie / Bimbocore & Weirdcore ,, shopping ,, Sanrio

Extra – she has fairy ' s own weirdcore / pixie Barbie dream house in faerie ' s part of headspace . Wing leans towards being antisocial and prefers to be by sparkleself / with glimmer ' s boyfriend . Swirl loves to decorate the system ' s accounts and twirl ' s headmates accounts / blogs / etc with symbols , icons , etc . Magic will overcomplicate the system ' s Simply Plural information just to be able to add more stuff to it .

Aesthetics – Pixiecore ,, Barbiecore ,, Weirdcore

Faceclaims –

[halfling-myth-lady]

Miraculous- Sky’s the limit chapter 8

Ao3

Summary:

Dealing with a bit of the aftermath of skating queen.

Alya stood in front of the rink, an ambulance sitting right in front, a girl only about three years older than her being checked upon.

A while ago, shortly before Miracle queen, Ladybug and Chat Noir called that there be an ambulance set to check on Akuma Victims due to the frequent nausea caused by Akumatization, and due to the fixing spell not being cast yet she guessed there was much more to take care of for now.

A hand holding a scrunched up Akuma entered her vision.

“Here ya go”she turned up, eyeing the pure black eyes she’d only previously spotted on the news.

Alya jumped.

After getting over her panic, she came eye to eye with a certain rooster hero, head tilted and seemingly judging her.

They were… tall. Platform boots enhancing their already outstanding height. orange tailcoat with a green inside swaying in the wind and pointed baton in their free hand.

A conductor. Manipulating a chorus to do whatever they wanted it to.

“Well if it isn't the bird”she said, standing up.

They chuckled, giving her a hand”why, looks like the fox was late to the hunt, hm?good thing the prey was here to show just how much of a fight they could give”

“You beat her on your own?”

“Nah, I had help”the manipulator said”I suppose you intended to do that, since I don’t see any of your company nearby?”

She glared”never underestimate the power of mind games, Birdie”

They let out a cackle before abruptly stopping, expression turning blank”do you think I was?mind games are my thing”

“Then maybe you’ll need a new thing, because I did it first.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”they’re eyes widened, face turning into a glare, both of them only inches apart from each other-

“Roo!”called a girl with red hair and a bunny mask”just give her the Akuma and be done with it! We don’t need beef with any of the main ones!”

They glanced back at her.

“Here”they handed her the Akuma”have a nice day, or something”

“You too, I guess”

They jumped off, following the rabbit.

‘Tch’ a voting rang in her head ‘goodness, I know Orikko’s always been the pretentious type but I didn’t realize that transferred over to his holders’

“You’re right”she remarked, turning back towards the scene”now let’s just get this over with”

- - -

Elodie saw as Alix and the kid that was with Nathaniel began booking it towards the ambulance.

“Hey!is everything alright?”the younger girl yelled”did Ladybug fix it?Rena rouge?”

“Well, everything’s fine,”she said”though Ladybug and chat noir weren’t the one who came, nor anyone else”

“R-really?who then?”the kid in the red hoodie said.

“I… dunno, I think one of them was a bunny, I’m pretty sure another was a rooster… and then there was a lamb or something?”Elodie replied.

“Huh… wait, Is Anya okay?”Alix asked, peeking over to see a doctor examining the skater.

“Nobody’s told me anything but it seems like the usual post Akuma stuff.”she clarified”things like lightheadedness and the like”

“Geez, I just hope the nausea isn’t that bad”the redhead said”that shit hit me like a truck. So much that Kim and Nath had to carry me home.”

“Oh, uh, speaking of Nathaniel… has anyone seen him?”the bluenette asked.

“I told him to leave. Actually, weren’t you with him?”the blonde replied.

They paled”o-oh yeah, we just got separated in the panic of it all. I haven’t seen him since.”

“Huh. Have you tried calling him yet?”Elodie said.

“Neither of us have his number. He’s pretty secretive about it”Alix said”I dunno why he’s so hesitant.”

“Oh, I’ll call him, then”she took out her phone, quickly dialing the number.

…

Huh. He didn’t respond.

She called him again.

“-usually that bad at this point”a girls voice said.

“Nathaniel?”

“Ah-Uh, h-hi?”the artists voice rang.

“Hey!Nath!you just left us hanging after skating queen!what happened?”Alix said.

“Oh shit-sorry, I’m outside the restrooms right now”he said”I’ll get back to you guys later. Don’t bother worrying about me.”

He hung up.

- - -

“Rude”Marc said dryly”I’ll go check on him. You two go see if Anya is alright.”

“Erm, alright… though I think Jean might be at the entrance so be weary of whatever he might try to say to you”the medic warned.

“… I’ll be fine”Marc smiled.

“… If you insist”

The writer started making their way towards the doors, Orikko still sleeping peacefully in their bag, and a certain brown haired boy sitting in the entrance.

They tapped him on the shoulder, causing the older boy to Jump”hey! Don’t startle me like that!”

“Oh, sorry”Marc said, giving their best smile “I was just wondering if you’d seen Nathaniel”

“Nathaniel… well crap if I know, Rainbow.”he said”go check around his house or something.”

“I-I don’t know where he lives”

“Then tough shit, but maybe tell his sister to not lie to people or something”Jean scoffed, turning to walk away as Marc put his hand on his shoulder, stare turning blank.

“Repeat what you just said”

“… I … I said that I don’t know where he lives…?”the brunette replied.

“No, the other part”

The older boy stayed silent for a few seconds before responding”the part where I told you to tell Kurt-“

“Yes”they said”that one.”

“Listen, I don’t know what connection you have with him- or her -but you admitted to not knowing what happened there”

“I did. But what I do know is that the only place in this building that doesn’t have cameras are the bathrooms and the room under the seats. And also that we have a witness.”the bluenette said, voice monotone”I would say that any news outlet that bothers verifying information or even the police wouldn’t take too kindly to being lied to, would they?at this point, lying would be futile. I recommend you stop, save yourself the trouble, and accept the consequences. Lest you insist prolonging this any longer.”

He started tugging at their hold, desperate, as Marc could only sigh in response.

“So, what do you say?”the manipulator squeezed his wrist a bit tighter, but not enough to hurt him.

“I say you’re insane!”

“I say that isn’t an answer”

“I-fine!I’ll admit it!just leave me the fuck alone, alright?”Jean finally yelled.

The writer finally released their grip on the boy, expresion unchanging”correct decision. You may leave.”

He basically sprinted away, leaving Marc alone.

… if only Orikko hadn’t slept through that entire thing. He’d be rather proud.

- - -

Kim waited outside of the restroom as a redheaded artist made his way out.

“Are sure you’re okay?”kim asked”I know you ate something bad, but I’ve never gotten food poisoning that terrible”

The artist glared”well maybe some people don’t have as good of an immune system as you, Kim”

“I mean, you were there for almost five minutes just throwing up-“

“I said im fine, Kim, I don’t need a pity party. Especially not from you”he practically snarled.

Kim stepped back.

“L-listen, Nate, if this is about back then, I’m sorry about back then and if you don’t want to forgive me that’s fine but-“

“Nath!”They both turned to see the writer sprinting full speed ahead, enveloping Nathaniel in a hug”I’m so glad you’re alright!”

“M-Marc…!”he smiled, before glancing over at Kim. He quickly pulled away.“Um, how’s Anya doing?is the nausea bad?”

“I haven’t actually checked on her”Marinette’s cousin said”Alix and Elodie are doing that. I just came so I could see if you were alright”

“O-oh”

“Hey…!don’t act so dejected”They smiled”I’m pretty sure they’re still there.”

Nathaniel paused.

…

“It’s fine”Nathaniel stepped back, bashfully “it’s not like she’d care much, anyway. She’s always liked Elodie or Alix’s company better than mine”

“Don’t say that!”Marc said”she’s your family y’know, and it looks like your care for each other a lot!”

Nathaniel gave an awkward chuckle”yeah… I care for her a lot”

- - -

Alix saw as Elodie put her hands on Anya’s shoulders.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”Elodie said.

“I already said I’m fine, the medics said the nausea was better than normal”the black haired girl replied, a small smile curling up on her face”anyways, where’s Nathaniel?”

“We called him and he said he was around the restrooms, so we got Marc to check on him”Alix finally spoke up.

“… who’s Marc?”

“Tall kid with blue hair and red hoodie who carries around their notebook like it’s the last known copy of the Bible”

“Oh, that one”the former Akuma said”they seemed… interesting.”

“They … sure are”Alix replied, glancing away.

...

“Hello there”

They all turned towards the one who said that. A girl with curly brown hair that faded to a darker blonde.

“Alya?”the hero said.

“Alix. Not exactly surprised your here considering the theme of the Akuma”the detective glanced over to the black haired girl”hello, Ma’am, I take it your miss Anya Kurtzburg?”

“Um… yes?”

“Good”she handed her a pencil and a bundle of papers, questions printed on them not unlike a school exam”please be sure to answer these questions to the best of your abilities”

“Erm, Let me see…”the skater read the questions, raising her eyebrows at only the first one””what was your cause of-“wait, what exactly is this for?”

“An investigation of mine”she smiled”that’s all”

[mscookiesxcream]

Unraveling ( An Axetale Fanfic)

Warning:Don't read if you don't like the frans ships ( Frisk x Sans)

Chapter 4 Into the belly of the Beast.

I tread forwards into the dark corridor. The light thump of my foot against the withered granite floor. My torch illuminates the space just that much for me to be able to see what's ahead. I reach a crossroads. Teeth chattering I think carefully on which direction to take.

“ Come on now liza think, left or right? Left or right. Left or right-AGH this isn’t leading me anywhere.”

I peer my head into  the left hallway for a moment before turning left and proceeding onwards.  As I continue walking down the corridor a see a dim light up ahead growing brighter and brighter as I seem to approach the space it’s lighting up. Following the light I reach a sharp turn and find myself inside of a massive library of sorts. Oil lamps attached to the walls and chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling light up the space. In front of the space is a pair of giant stone doors. To either side of the area are 3 tall shelves filled with what I can only imagine to be dozens upon dozens of books stored inside the shelves. On the right side of the space next to one of the big shelves is a rolling library ladder. I approach the huge bookshelf to the right side of the space and peer at the bookshelves. The books seem to vary in content. Touching the books and looking at their titles I see multiple strange titles that I’d expect to see in some sort of fantasy novel.

“ Potion making 101, a beginners guide to monster anatomy, medicinal herb plants and more.  “Just who is the owner of this library??!??” I think to myself.

One of the books catches my eye, the only book on the shelf that wasn’t riddled with dust. Like a footprint in a field of untouched snow the book piqued my interest as to why it looked like someone may have recently used it.. I pulled the book out of its designated spot on the shelf and whispered the title to myself, “ A beginners guide to navigating the multiverse. “. Multiverse?, I recited in my thoughts,  Raising an eyebrow at the rather strange title. Surely this isn’t actually some sort of beginners manual, alas I flip the book over to be met with a blank green backing. “No blurb or nothing?, I thought to myself, guess this isn’t your run of the mill book that you’d find in an ordinary library”. Turning the book back to its original position I flip open the cover expecting to find the name of the author or some sort of indication of this book's place of origin but to my surprise I’m met with a diagram of some sorts for a circular contraption. What is this? The model is strewn with labels for various parts of the  machine; Core, center console, optical holder, launch pad, energy conductor, to name just a few. At the very bottom of the page, underneath the image are the words “2.0 Model- Portal Hub”. “What in the world is a portal hub???” I whispered to myself, still processing the detailed images and sheer amount of information that’s just been unloaded upon me. “ This is a rather detailed and dare I say realistic looking diagram for a random nonfiction book. As I begin to flip to the next page I’m bombarded with the abrupt appearance of a chibi art style little hologram skeleton.

“GAH”

I let out a yelp jumping back from the book and dropped it out of my hands.  I’m even more stunned as I watch the book fall from my grasp and instead of falling to the floor float mere inches above the ground before levitating and rising to be now eve level with me. I sit on the ground at a loss for words as the little- dare I say cute- hologram figure cocks its head at me, as If surprised by my sudden reaction. “ Well golly ms, are you okay?” It asks.

  My eyes gape wide open at the shocking discovery that it can talk and is possibly sentient. “ AHHHHHH” I scream- like for real this time- and lunge towards a book that must’ve fallen off the shelf  in the sudden tumble I had a few seconds ago. “ TAKE THIS” I shout at the hologram before hurling the book over my shoulder and towards the book. “Eek!”, the skeleton shrieks before retreating back into the book.Taking the blue hue of the hologram screen with it as the books cover shuts and falls to the ground.  Deep breaths wrack my body as I shake.  “ What. Was. That.”, I announce to no one in particular. I cautiously approach the book,  staring at the cover before carefully peeling it back to be once again met with the ominous blue hue of the hologram screen. “ Are you a bit more calm now?” The skeleton asks. I nod, narrowing my eyes to communicate my skepticism with this whole predicament. Phew- “ Well that’s good to hear”, the skeleton lets out a sigh and runs his hand across his forehead to give off the pretend gesture of relief, man they program these things to act so realistic!

“Um- so what exactly are you?” I asked the tiny figure curiously,”  I am none other than the Secure Automated Teleportation System, or S.T.A.T.S for short!” The hologram replied cheerfully. “ And you  dear user?”, he asks me, “ Oh me I’m um- Aliza.” I replied. “ Well it’s delightful getting to meet you.” The bot replies, extending his arm outwards for me to shake . Just as I began to raise my hand over to meet him it was then when it suddenly hit me, I’ve seen this guy before! I lean in to shake his little hand- compared to my much larger one that is- and ask him if we’ve met before. “ Pardon me but have we met before? You look awfully familiar-uh sir”. The hologram chuckles a bit at my ignorance at what to call him in my attempt not to offend him. “ Well I can’t say I recognize your face from any previous users of this book in my database, but maybe you’ve met the person my model is designed after! My creator! Creator?, I thought to myself. That’s when it all clicked.

"THIS GUY WAS THE SAME GUY I FOLLOWED TO GET HERE!

Albeit a little smaller and less realistic skeleton look-y like, on account of the other guy who looked almost exactly like my father that is. But nonetheless, this hologram appeared to be modeled after the guy who looked JUST like my dad ! Who I was following along with a girl a mere few minutes ago!

” DO YOU KNOW WHERE THAT GUY WENT??”

[noobettes-little-box]

yay a spooky block tales review yippee

Chapter Three!!!!!!

as with the other 3, summary and review under the cut thing

don't read incase of spoilers

WARNING:

before we begin, this chapter includes abusive parents, generally depression references, death, multiple hands, multiple eyes, ducks, greed, loneliness, builderman, manipulation, even more eyes, mind control? kinda? i think that's technically what it is, gore? kinda? like just blood veins everywhere, and a kinda exposed heart.

these aren't shown here because i ran out of room

you have been warned i'm trying me best this chapter is a bit disturbing.

Summary:

starts where the last chapter ends you know the deal

go to shedletsky so he can yap

he is shocked that the voices went after anyone at all but hasn't gotten any distress signal from any other sword holders so tells us to go get the ghost walker, in his mansion, that he guards with "normal zombies"

he gives you a train ticket and sends you off

the conductor acts like i'm an important and cool person (which is true i am both those things) and then the chapter starts

after being let on the train you're told to go rest in room 4

seriously what was on that ticket

when you wake up the trains getting robbed

no big deal

after defeating them the conductor tells us to go save the engineer and stuff!! oh no!!

when we get there it turns out red, blue and noobador are also there!!!

turns out, noobador is actually the engineer!!!!!

and red and blue were beating up the bandits!

but then more bandits come, and blue is feeling a little tired

so we fight together!! wow!

red takes most of the credit, gives some to blue, then says i "did okay i guess"

ANYWAYS ABUSIVE PARENTS TIME

these guys suck they're like red and blue if they were stupid dumb idiots who need to be stabbed

also noobador is their uncle

anyways we kill them and then noobador apologizes for the prologue how nice of him

upon arriving in "spooksvile" red and blue thank us

i can now summon children whenever i want yay!

after most of walking we get to telamon's manor

nothing interesting happens except people being sad

you follow a butler into a portal and now there's ghost everywhere

oh hey it's that guy

he asks you to go grab ingredients for him, those being spiders and dust

then he asks for me to get a turkey.... and

well

after fighting the turkey you get the ghost potion!!! i forgot to take a screenshot it lets you avoid damage and go through stuff

kitchen wizard says not to touch the ghost walker because we'll die if we're not pure

then you find the hyper ball!!! it's just there!!! just for the taking!

the hyperball lets you ground pound i forgot to screenshot that too oops

after some walking, there it is! the ghost walker!!! right there!

i think i'm pretty pure and full of whimsy so... lemme just grab it and...

oh

oh hey we found builder man we can go home now

we are now stuck in the dream world and we have to fight our emotions in order to go home

first up is greed!

like the sin

they take stuff and they wants to take various parts of your body to play with and stuff

they have a move that takes away tix if it hits you

fun

they go down pretty easily

next up is solitude!!!

they're always watching... always...

the eyes follow you.. everywhere...

also something's wrong with builderman i guess i dunno that's just what they said but that's probably just so i didn't kill them

after getting solitude builderman says there is only one emotion left clouding our soul

fear

after killing fear, builderman congratulates us! but we can't move. and it's slowly revealed that builderman wasn't real. and it was a disguise for hatred

hatred takes complete control over your mind, leaving you alone, in this dangerous world that makes my eyes hurt

this world having the walls made of other souls that gave into hatred

hatred wants us to join in and give in to the hate

the battle is hard but i have a weapon so it doesn't matter

after leaving the dream world, Terry and Kitchen wizard yell at you. which is fair. though your souls is now completely pure, and you can touch the ghost walker without dying! yayy!!!!

review:

kinda inbetween chapter 1 and 2 honestly. first half is kinda boring, and it's one of the shorter chapters to come out it's only longer than the prologue, which is meant to be short. the interesting parts are way better than chapter 2, and the boring parts are better than chapter 1, but after chapter 2 having an event happen every few rooms, it's kinda hard to not rate this one down a bit. music is fucking awesome though solitude's theme is better than everything else in the game

okay that's the end of the reviews until chapter 4 is out

also i had to rewrite this because tumblr kept saying i had over 30 images in it but i didnt but it wouldn't let me save it anyway

[crazychaoticizzy]

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

She let curiosity get the best of her, and found out that maybe her Angel of Music wasn’t an angel at all…

WARNINGS: mild memory loss, Eren gets a little mad

Word Count: 1.2k

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Her head was pounding, something that sounded like a discordant piano melody playing faintly in the distance. Y/n clenched her teeth, softly groaning as she fully regained consciousness.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she waited until her bleary vision was clear before looking at her surroundings.

She was under a pile of blankets, her hand gently petting a fur pillow to her right. The bed she laid on was large, the silk sheets engulfing her and making it difficult to leave.

Sheer curtains hung around the bed, and a small light fixture hung above her. It looked secure enough, but the flame lighting the candle stood dangerously to the thin fabric hanging from the ceiling.

She drew the curtains aside, watching to make sure she didn’t hit the flame before she stepped out of the bed. She stretched her body, lifting her arms above her head and yawning. She glanced around, trying to remember how she had gotten in the cluttered room.

She searched her memory, remembering swirling mists upon a vast glassy lake. If she closed her eyes, she could see the cave and it’s romantic lighting. She could count every individual candle in her mind and feel the odd warmth they gave the chilly cave. A boat rocked as she stepped inside it, glancing around in awestruck wonder as someone rowed her along.

That someone was tall. She remembers he wore only dark colors and didn’t look at her until the bottom of the boat scraped against rock. He wore gloves, the satin smooth against her skin as she took his hand and—

Y/n opened her eyes. She was no longer in her own head and it was cold. So very cold. Her blue sundress did little to provide heat. She glanced around again, her attention snagging on a doorway.

She cautiously took steps toward it, peeking around it and seeing the glassy lake in her mind. She stood starstruck for a moment, taking careful steps on the dias that overlooked it. The piano melody was no longer discordant, now a sweet melody that trilled and made her soul happy.

Y/n’s gaze moved to where the music came from, and she saw a man sitting at a piano. His back was to her, so he didn’t see as she took slow steps closer.

This had to be her Angel of Music. It had to. There was nothing dizzying about him like when she was around that other man. Her mind was clear and she was completely conscious of what she was doing.

She bumped into a candelabra, reaching out to grab it before it fell. A candle slipped from its holder, falling into the lake with a sizzle and catching the mans attention.

The music stopped, and he turned his head. He wore a mask that covered everything on his face except his lips. They tilted up as he watched you fix the candelabra, and he disregarded you to continue playing.

When his fingers tapped the keys again, it was a different melody. You recognized it as a duet from your most recent performance, and after a couple notes the masked man started singing.

His voice was everything it was meant to sound like, dark and seductive, luring the heroine into a false love.

She stepped closer, finding herself gently caressing his shoulders as she followed along in the music.

Eren Yeager. That was the name written in the upper left corner of the paper. That was the name of the conductor that wrote every play and opera performed in the Eldian Opera House.

That was the name Y/n’s Angel of Music had told her to call him.

Her hands slowly moved along his neck to glide through his hair. It fell over his shoulders, unlike the bun he had it pulled into that she remembered. She mindlessly ran her hands through the silky strands, lightly scratching his scalp as he continued playing.

Eren faltered for a moment, voice cracking before he hit the wrong note. He took a moment’s pause, quietly apologizing before continuing. She heard the satisfied sigh in his voice as your fingers glided along his head, moving closer and closer to the edge of the black mask.

Her gaze moved from the music sheets to where the tips of her fingers met the smooth material of his mask. She thought about taking it off, it was right there after all, but then the possibility of this being the infamous Phantom rumored to haunt the opera house crossed her mind.

She had thought that was a fairy tale. But then, perhaps, anything is possible when your Angel of Music takes you to another realm.

She’s not sure what was going through her mind when her hands slowly slipped down the sides of his neck, feeling for the edge of the mask. Eren leaned into her touch, his breaths ragged as the music slowly faded away. Y/n looked down to his face, seeing that he had closed his eyes and was basking in the feel of her touch. She gently traced the line of his jaw, carefully slipping her hands under the mask and yanking it away.

She softly gasps in wonder at the sight—a series of red lines running down both of Eren’s cheeks like bloody tears. Eren’s eyes snap open, and he immediately looks away and stands up, covering his face as he turns to Y/n and jerks the mask out of her grasp.

She stumbles back at the anger in his eyes, tripping on her own feet. She reaches out for anything to balance herself, catching Eren’s arm as he pulls her back in front of him.

“Is this what you wanted to see?” he spits. His hand tightens around Y/n’s wrist, pulling her closer. He removes his hand from his face, making sure she gets a close look at the scars and abnormalities of his features.

Y/n takes heavy breaths, trying to unwrap his fingers from her wrist as she looks at him with wide eyes. In truth, Eren is handsome. The sharpness of his nose and the raise of his eyebrows and the fullness of his lips compliment each other well. If anything, the scars along his cheeks almost accentuate his attractiveness.

But his eyes—burning with white hot anger and embarrassment. That is what scares her. That is what makes her try to draw away and return to whatever safety she could find.

Eren’s expression softens, his brows no longer pulled together and his lips no longer pressed. The soft glint returns to his green eyes because he realizes she’s terrified of him and the way he looks. His hand slowly uncurls from her arm and he pulls away. He turns, only allowing Y/n to see his side profile as he secures the mask around his face and clears his throat. He still doesn’t look at her as he says, “We should be getting you back. Those devils up there will be wondering where you are.”

Y/n nods silently, obediently. Because this is not her Angel of Music, and there's no telling what he'd do if she wasn't obedient.

hope y'all enjoyed! the next chapter will hopefully be out soon

-Izzy <3

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TAGGING: @antichristisbby @rebekah-george @rosesforblues