#Confrontation

[afriblaq]

Bodycam footage shows local Lincoln Heights resident hero's confronting and chasing off neo-nazi demonstrators in Ohio.

[classycookiexo]

[aventurineswife]

Hi again :3 as mentioned I'm just gonna write these down as to not forget and you'll get here eventually

Platonic Boothill, Aventurine, Ratio and Jing Yuan meeting reader's biological father who is responsible for their mother's death and is generally just an awful person but wants to get his child back for reasons unknown.

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

Tags: Boothill x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Platonic Relationships, Found Family, Protective, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy (or Bittersweet) Ending, Justice & Retribution, Revenge Themes, Confrontation, Subtle Whump, Power Displays, Strong Bonds, Reader Has a Dark Past, Mentorship Elements.

Warnings: Mentions of Parental Abuse & Neglect (emotional, possibly physical), Mentions of Murder (reader’s father killed their mother), Emotional Manipulation & Gaslighting (father trying to reclaim the reader), Mild to Moderate Violence, Themes of Found Family vs. Toxic Biological Family, Confrontation Scenes, Reader Processing Trauma.

Tagslist: @themiddletenmasibling

Boothill sat on a barrel, one leg crossed over the other, fingers toying with a bullet between his fingers. His eyes gleamed under the dim light of the saloon, narrowing as he regarded the man across from him—your father.

"You got some nerve, showin’ up here after all these years," Boothill drawled, twirling the bullet before snapping it between his fingers. "What’s the play, huh? You waltz in, say a few pretty words, and think you can take ‘em back like nothin’ happened?"

Your father sneered. "I don’t need to justify myself to some gunslinger freak."

Boothill’s grin widened, sharp teeth flashing like a predator scenting weakness. "See, that’s where you’re wrong. ‘Cause you ain't talkin’ to just me. You’re talkin’ to the one who made sure they never had to go back to you. You’re talkin’ to the man who sees right through your lies."

You stood behind Boothill, fists clenched, emotions tangled. He had always been the first to step up when you couldn’t, shielding you from the past you’d tried to escape.

"You killed their mother," Boothill continued, voice devoid of its usual humor. "And now you think you can come back, like you got some kinda right?" He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You lost that right the moment you pulled the trigger."

Your father scowled but didn’t move. Boothill stood up, slow and deliberate. "Now, I ain’t the law. I don’t got a badge. But I got my own way of dealin’ with muddle-fudger like you."

The mechanical plates in his fingers shifted as his hand hovered over his revolver.

"You best turn ‘round and leave, partner. Before I put you in the ground like the outlaw you are."

Your father took one last look at you. You felt the weight of his stare, the years of pain he’d inflicted. But with Boothill standing beside you, unwavering, you knew—you were never going back.

And your father knew it too.

Aventurine leaned back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head as he regarded the man before him—your father. His signature smirk was in place, but his eyes were cold, calculating.

"Ah, family reunions. Always so dramatic," he mused, adjusting the golden rings on his fingers. "But you see, I have a rule against bad investments. And you, my dear sir, are the worst kind."

Your father scoffed. "This is none of your concern. I came for my child."

Aventurine exhaled, feigning disappointment. "So predictable. You don’t actually care about them, do you? No, no, you just don’t like losing something you think belongs to you."

You stiffened beside Aventurine, but his presence was like a wall between you and the man who had haunted your nightmares.

Your father’s lips curled into a sneer. "What do you even know about it?"

"Oh, plenty," Aventurine replied smoothly, swirling the wine glass in his hand before setting it down with a clink. "See, I know the type. Men who think they own what they destroy. Men who kill and expect forgiveness. Men who show up after years of absence and think they still hold the cards."

He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "But here’s the thing—I rigged the deck before you even sat down."

A tense silence filled the air.

Aventurine smiled. "They’re not going with you. And I suggest you leave before the stakes get... lethal."

Your father hesitated, but there was something in Aventurine’s gaze, something dangerous beneath the charm. He knew when he was outmatched.

He turned sharply and walked away.

Aventurine leaned back, sighing theatrically. "Honestly, predictable men bore me."

You exhaled, tension leaving your shoulders. "Thank you."

He winked. "What are friends for, if not for running conmen like him out of town?"

Ratio stood between you and your father, arms crossed, his piercing gaze unwavering. His alabaster mask rested on the table, revealing his sharp eyes—the kind that saw through deception with ease.

"I fail to understand the logic in your request," Ratio said coolly, tilting his head. "You claim to want them back, yet you were the one who ensured they had no home to return to."

Your father clenched his jaw. "They’re my blood."

Ratio’s lips curled slightly in amusement. "Blood is merely biological happenstance. It has no bearing on worth or responsibility." He took a step forward, and though he did not raise his voice, there was an undeniable weight to his words. "You ended their mother’s life. And now, you dare demand theirs?"

Your father’s expression twisted in frustration, but Ratio’s calm, intellectual disdain was an impenetrable wall.

"Pathetic," Ratio remarked. "Your mind is so small, so desperately clinging to control you do not have. Tell me, have you truly convinced yourself that you deserve their forgiveness?"

Your father flinched.

Ratio smiled, but it held no warmth. "You are nothing but a relic of a past they’ve outgrown. Be grateful for that mercy and leave before I decide to educate you in a more... permanent manner."

Your father hesitated for only a moment before turning and vanishing into the night.

Ratio glanced at you. "Are you all right?"

You nodded, exhaling shakily. "I think so."

Ratio adjusted his cuffs, his sharp gaze softening just slightly. "Good. Then let us never speak of that fool again."

Jing Yuan sat, eyes calm but unreadable as he regarded your father. The General’s fingers drummed softly against the wooden desk, the only sound in the otherwise suffocating silence.

"You are asking for something that is no longer yours," Jing Yuan finally said, voice smooth yet firm. "And after what you have done, I wonder… do you truly believe you deserve it?"

Your father sneered. "This is none of your concern."

Jing Yuan chuckled softly, though there was no amusement in it. "You are mistaken. Everything concerning their safety is my concern."

Your father’s confidence wavered.

Jing Yuan leaned forward, resting his chin against his hand. "I have led armies, quelled rebellions, and negotiated peace among the stars. I have seen men like you, men who believe power grants them ownership over others." His gaze sharpened. "You are mistaken yet again."

Your father opened his mouth, but Jing Yuan’s next words left no room for argument.

"They are under my protection. I do not take that duty lightly."

The weight of authority in his tone was absolute. A silent warning.

Your father stiffened, realizing he had lost. Without another word, he turned and left.

Jing Yuan sighed, looking at you with a faint, knowing smile. "A shame, really. I had half a mind to throw him in a cell."

You chuckled weakly. "I wouldn’t have stopped you."

Jing Yuan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You are safe now. That is all that matters."

[pinetreevillain]

I finally get to share this stupid ass meme

[vera-deville]

Hello! I really love your works for twisted wonderland! I was wondering if i can make a request please?

Maybe a one shot of leona with a s/o that is very sweet and shy that used to have a very toxic relationship before meeting him, maybe in some moment the reader's ex tries to get back together but to everyone surprise(and Leona's pride) reader ends up slapping their ex.

I hope you're good! If you don't like this request just tell me!

The Quiet After Roaring

05/01/2025

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x Reader Word Count: 3,299 Warnings: Reader deals with an ex, hurtful sentiments, mentions of toxic relationship with the ex Gender: AFAB Tags: @viviennevermillion, @achy-boo, @savanaclaw1996, @atomatoho3, @qaxdea, @katzline Notes: Thank you so much for your ask and for your kind words! I've written so many fics for Leona and I can never seem to get enough. ^-^ I hope you enjoy this! Masterlist

It was always the little things that lingered.

The ghost of a grip too tight on your wrist. Words with edges that sliced deeper than any spell. Silence used like a blade, sharpened by disappointment and left to cut you open when you least expected it. It had been months since the supposed end of it, months since the relationship had ended, but there were nights where you swore you could still hear his voice - sickly sweet and poisonous at the same time - echoing in your head.

You hadn't told anyone. Not outright. Because how could you?

You should have known better. Because you were the fool who stayed too long. Because you were the girl who once flinched at kindness, who didn't know how to take a compliment without instinctively brushing it off, who apologized for existing.

It didn't matter how much time had passed. It didn't matter that things were looking better for you now. It didn't matter that you had begun anew. The cracks in your foundation followed you wherever you went.

And Leona noticed.

At first, you thought it was just his usual laziness. He always had a strange way of showing interest - flat-toned grunts, sarcastic remarks, occasional glances like he was trying to decide whether you were worth getting up for. But then he started sticking around more (well, more than his usual boyfriend duties were). There were no big declarations. Just...small things.

"Eat," He muttered one afternoon, tossing you a neatly wrapped sandwich while lounging in his favorite sunspot behind the botanical garden. You blinked at the sudden gift, half-expecting there to be a prank hidden inside (that would be far too much effort on his side), but when you opened it, it was just food. Normal. Real. Warm.

"Leona, I-"

"You skipped lunch." His tone brooked no argument. "Don't make me waste good meat."

And that was the first time.

The second time was when he caught you flinching from a raised voice in the cafeteria. Some Savanaclaw students were roughhousing again - nothing out of the ordinary - but something in the deep, guttural shouting triggered something sharp and suffocating in your chest. You'd dropped your tray. Frozen.

The sound of it clattering to the ground was what pulled you back.

And then, there was Leona. Standing over you, growling low in his throat, amber eyes flicking dangerously toward the students responsible.

"Pick it up," He snapped - not to you, but at the others.

Ruggie darted in from the sidelines with a rag, mumbling apologies, trying to smooth things over.

"Jeez, Boss," He said later, trailing behind Leona as they exited the dining hall. "You're kinda hovering these days."

Leona didn't answer. He didn't have to. His tail flicked once behind him, low and controlled.

You weren't stupid. You noticed, eventually.

The way Jack seemed to suddenly pop up in your elective classes. "Must've swapped schedules," He claimed with a shrug. How Ruggie would "coincidentally" run into you in the halls with some silly errand. Or how Leona just happened to be sunbathing exactly where you needed to walk through to get to the greenhouse.

It wasn't a coincidence.

It was a net, strung tight but invisible, a protective perimeter you hadn't even asked for. But gods, did it make your chest ache.

You didn't know what to do with that kind of care. You didn't know how to handle someone noticing without demanding. Caring without controlling. Protecting without possessiveness.

So you tried to ignore it. You tried to pretend you were fine.

You smile politely. You laughed when jokes were told. You passed your classes. You stayed out of trouble. You were perfect.

But Leona could see it - the subtle stiffening of your shoulders when someone stood too close, the polite distance you maintained with even your closest friends, the carefully measured responses that lacked real warmth.

He wasn't the sentimental type. But he'd been raised among beasts. He knew what fear looked like - even when you tried to wear it like armor.

So he said nothing.

Instead, he watched.

When a group project came up in Potions, he made sure Ruggie requested you as a partner.

When Vargas assigned a brutal fitness test, Jack "accidentally" jogged beside you the whole time, keeping your pace.

When Crowley announced an upcoming academic field trip (one that would only last a day) to Royal Sword Academy, Leona joined the delegation, despite grumbling endlessly about it being a "waste of time."

You were surprised when he volunteered. He usually avoided anything that required effort. But he just grunted when you asked.

"They needed someone competent. Guess the bar's that low."

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. You knew the truth. He was going because you were going.

And you were starting to realize...he always had been.

He never pressured you to talk. Never pried about your previous relationship, despite you mentioning it in passing. But in the quiet, in the ways he looked at you, you understood: he knew enough.

You once caught him standing outside Professor Trein's classroom after your lecture ended, arms folded, posture lazy. But his eyes scanned every student exiting the room until they landed on you.

You'd raised an eyebrow. "Waiting for someone?"

"Yeah. You."

"Awwww, look who's being a sweet boyfriend~"

"Tch, just wanted to walk back with you. You look like you're about to pass out."

You hadn't realized you were shaking until that moment.

You didn't ask how he knew. You didn't need to.

Leona wasn't soft. He didn't coddle. But he was steady - solid like sun-warmed stone - and he never once made you feel like you were broken.

He was patient in his own rough way. Like he was giving you time.

Time to trust again.

Time to breathe.

Time to heal.

And thought you hadn't said it yet, hadn't dared to, you were starting to feel truly safe again.

But safety is a fragile and fickle thing. Sometimes, all it takes is a name from the past, a face you hoped you'd never see again, to shatter it in an instant.

And that moment?

That was just around the corner.

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You didn't expect to run into anyone familiar at Royal Sword Academy. The trip had been framed as a formal exchange - a handful of NRC students invited for a tour (and vice versa), a diplomatic gesture between the two rival schools. It should've been simple. Stiff handshakes, polite smiles that didn't quite reach the eyes, and a quick tour of immaculate halls that smelled like lemon polish and self-righteousness. No drama.

But of course, fate was much crueler than that.

Your group had just finished viewing RSA's main greenhouse - a pristine, sun-drenched dome filled with flowering, magical herbs - and students had dispersed into smaller groups to explore the campus. You were trailing behind Leona, thinking about how much more you liked the gardens at NRC than this, despite its grandiosity, when a voice slithered through the air like a snake in the grass.

"Well, well. I didn't think I'd see you here."

You froze.

No. Not here. Not him.

Your breath caught, shoulders stiffening as you slowly turned toward the voice. And there he was - your ex. Tall, arrogant, that same smug tilt to his chin that you used to find charming and now could only see as infuriating. His uniform - RSA's pristine whites and golds - looked too noble for someone so rotten.

Leona stopped walking. His tail gave a flick, catching the tension in your stance.

Your ex smiled. "Didn't think they let charity cases into these kinds of events."

You clenched your fists.

"Walk away," you muttered under your breath, barely audible.

"What was that?" He asked, stepping closer. "Didn't quite catch that, sweetheart."

You flinched at the pet name. It rolled off his tongue with the same venom as always.

"You don't get to call me that," You said, voice shaking.

"Why not? It's not like you've upgraded much," He continued, now eyeing Leona with thinly veiled contempt. "This your new keeper? Figures you'd end up with a mangy stray."

Leona, who had been silent until now, lifted his head. "You got a problem, Herbivore?"

Your ex ignored him entirely, eyes still on you. "I've been thinking, you know. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I mean, sure, things got...heated sometimes, but I think we could work things out. You were always a little too sensitive-"

Crack.

The sound echoed across the courtyard before you even registered what you'd done.

Your knuckles stung. He was clutching his nose. Silence followed.

Dozens of heads turned. RSA students paused mid-step. Your NRC friends froze. Even Leona blinked in mild surprise.

And then - "Ha!" Leona laughed once, sharp and impressed. "About damn time."

Your ex reeled back, still clutching his face with as much delicacy he could muster, lest the pain increase tenfold. "Y-You crazy bitch!"

Leona growled low in his throat.

"Say that again," He said, stepping forward. "I dare you."

But he didn't have to. RSA staff and faculty were already converging at the scene. Murmurs broke out among the crowd. You felt dizzy, heart hammering in your chest as the reality of what you'd just done hit you like those trucks in isekai novels.

You'd punched him. In public. On another school's campus. In front of students, teachers, and Leona.

And then - like a blade through the whispers - came a calm, authoritative voice.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Headmaster Ambrose stepped forward, robes flowing, gaze sharp and unreadable behind small glasses. He looked at you, then at your ex, then to the watching crowd.

"Miss," He said to you. "And you, Mister Klyne." His voice was soft, but it carried. "To my office. Now."

You felt your legs turn to lead.

Leona took a step forward like he was about to protest, but the headmaster raised a single hand. The courtyard fell silent.

"This is not up for discussion."

Leona's teeth clicked together in frustration. You turned to him briefly, and he gave you a tiny nod. "Go. I'll be waitin'."

You swallowed hard and followed the Headmaster across the courtyard, your ex trailing behind. The walk was long, the silence deafening. Your mind raced - what if they banned you from future exchanges? What if they told Crowley? What if-

"You're not in trouble," Ambrose said suddenly, his voice slicing through your panic. "Not yet. But I'd like to hear what happened before I reach a conclusion."

You blinked up at him.

He wasn't angry. Not yet. Just...watchful. Fair.

In the ornate calm of the Headmaster's office, you sat on a soft leather chair, hands clenched in your lap. Your ex tried to speak first, but Ambrose cut him off.

"I'll hear from her first."

You looked up in surprise. The Headmaster gestured for you to speak.

So you did. You told him everything - your past with the boy across from you, the emotional manipulation, the veiled insults, the slow eroding of your confidence. You explained how you'd tried to stay quiet, how you didn't want to cause a scene, but he pushed and pushed-

"I see," Ambrose said, once you finished.

He turned to your ex, who sputtered with indignation, trying to refute every word with half-truths and shifting blame. But the more he talked, the deeper a frown settled onto the Headmaster's face.

When the boy finished, Amrbsoe sat back in his chair and let the silence hang for a moment.

"I appreciate your honesty," He said to you. Then, turning to your ex, "You will receive formal disciplinary action from RSA, and a written apology will be sent to Night Raven College on your behalf. I expect it to be delivered by the end of the week. Until then, consider yourself restricted from cross-campus interactions.

Your mouth dropped open.

"And you," Ambrose said, turning back to you, his voice softer, "Have nothing to fear. While I don't condone violence, I understand provocation. I also understand the importance of standing your ground."

You blinked back tears you hadn't realized were forming. "Thank you, Sir."

He gave a small smile. "You're welcome, dear. You may rejoin your group now."

As you left the office, your heart felt lighter, if only a little. The crowd had mostly dispersed, but your NRC group - Leona, Ruggie, Jack (definitely not a coincidence that these three were the ones to accompany you to RSA), as well as a few others - rushed toward you the moment they spotted you.

"What happened?" Jack asked, brows drawn in concern.

"Did that guy try to mess with you again?" Ruggie added.

You hesitated, then smiled faintly. "I'm okay. The Headmaster...he listened. My ex is getting formally punished and has to send a written apology."

"Serves him right," Ruggie muttered.

Jack nodded. "Good."

Leona didn't say anything right away. He just looked at you. His gaze wasn't intense, not sharp or cold like it usually was. Just...steady.

"You alright?" He asked, voice low.

You nodded, and for once, it didn't feel like a lie.

"Damn right you are," He said, and turned away. "Come on. Let's go. These sparkly bastards are makin' my skin itch."

You laughed, a little watery, and followed him.

Leona didn't offer a hug, or a pat on the back, or even a hand to hold. But he slowed his pace so you could walk beside him. He kept glancing at you, tail flicking every time someone looked at you too long. And though he didn't say it, you could feel it.

He was proud of you.

And that was enough.

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Ramshackle was unusually quiet that night.

Grim had long since retreated to his own bedroom, tail flicking behind him and muttering something about not wanting to be caught in any "mushy drama" (you think that's his nice way of letting you spend time with Leona). The shadows of the old dorm stretched across the cracked wooden floor. And the wind rattled softly against the windows. You and Leona sat side by side on your bed, still dressed from the long trip back from Royal Sword Academy. The air hung heavy - not with tension, but with the weight of everything that had happened.

You hadn't said much since returning. Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, pulling at loose threads, unsure of what to do with all the leftover emotions that swirled inside you like a storm. The rush of confrontation, the relief of justice, the fear of it all blowing up in your face - now that the dust had settled, it all had nowhere to go.

Leona hadn't said much either, but that wasn't out of character. He sat leaning back against your headboard like he belonged there, arms behind his head, eyes half-lidded in that lazy lion way of his. But his tail flicked restlessly at the edge of the bed, betraying that he wasn't nearly as relaxed as he looked.

"I should've seen it coming," You muttered.

Leona's ears twitched. "What?"

"I should've known he'd be there. Should've stayed away. Should've just...I don't know. Disappeared."

He cracked one eye open, gaze sharp despite his relaxed posture. "You blaming yourself for running into that walking dumpster fire?"

Your lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't know what I'm doing," You admitted. "I thought I was better. That I'd moved on. But seeing him again just...it brought back everything. I still feel like the person I was when they were hurting me."

Leona was quiet for a long moment. Then he shifted, leaning over to pluck a throw pillow from the floor and chucking it lightly at your face.

"Hey!"

"You're not that person anymore," He said bluntly. "They don't get to live in your head rent-free just 'cuz they crawled out of their little sewer hole for a day."

You let out a weak laugh, catching the pillow and hugging it to your chest. "Yeah, well...it's hard to believe that. Especially when I'm the one who keeps spiraling."

Leona exhaled through his nose, irritated. But not with you. "Tch. That's what pisses me off. You keep doubting yourself when you're the one who slapped that bastard into next week. That wasn't just some scared girl from the past - that was you now. The one who doesn't take shit. The one who stood there in front of all those students and made it clear you weren't gonna be stepped on anymore."

You looked at him, surprised.

"...You really think I was strong back there?"

Leona scoffed, eyes rolling like the question was offensive. "What, you think I get proud over just anything?"

He sat up a little, tail curling around his waist lazily. "You got guts. Way more than most people I know. You think Ruggie or Jack could've stood there without trembling? Please. I've seen Jack trip over his own tail when he's nervous. And Ruggie? He'd have tried to scam the guy out of his lunch money and run."

Despite yourself, you smiled.

Then you looked down again. The smile faded.

"But what if I'm still...broken?" You asked quietly. "What if there's some part of me that they ruined? And it'll always be there? I'm scared that someday, I won't be good enough for you. That you'll wake up and realize I'm not strong, or I'm too much of a mess, or-"

Leona groaned and flopped fully onto the mattress, dragging you with him until your cheek landed against his shoulder.

"Stars, you're annoying when you get like this."

You stiffened.

"Not because of the way you fell," He clarified, lazily stroking your hair. "That part's fine. Emotions, trauma, all that crap - I get it. Life kicks you in the face, and it leaves a mark. But this constant fear that I'm gonna up and walk away? That I'm gonna get tired of you? That's what's annoying."

You blinked up at him, mouth slightly open.

"I don't do things I don't want to," He said flatly. "You should've figured that out by now. If I didn't want you, I wouldn't be here. I'd be asleep somewhere way more comfortable, not stuck in this dusty-ass bed in a drafty-ass dorm with peeling wallpaper and one cranky raccoon-cat as a roommate."

"Hey, Grim's not that bad."

"You're deflecting," Leona said, flicking your forehead gently.

You winced. "Ow."

"I'm serious," He said, voice softening just a little. "I chose you. I keep choosing you. And if you ever say that 'not good enough' crap again, I'm gonna make you write a ten-page essay on why that's bullshit."

You choked on a laugh. "Leona-"

He reached up and smoothed a hand down your back. "You're not broken. You're healing. And yeah, sometimes that means you'll fall apart a little. Doesn't mean I'm gonna ditch you. I'm not scared of what you think is a mess."

You buried your face into his shoulder, not quite crying, but close. The tension in your chest began to uncoil.

"...Thanks," you whispered.

He grunted. "Don't make it weird."

You both lay there for a while, wrapped up in the quiet hum of Ramshackle and each other. His arms stayed around you, his breathing steady and warm against your skin. It wasn't grand. It wasn't overly sentimental. But it was real.

Comfort, given the Leona way - through presence, through sarcasm, through quiet truth.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, Leona shifted again and tapped your chin to make you look up at him.

"You listenin'?"

"Mmhmm," You mumbled.

"Good." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead - gentle, warm, and startingly tender.

"Sleep," He said, voice low and gruff. "I've got you."

And somehow, with all the broken pieces still stitching themselves back together, you believed him.

Author's Note: As soon as I read this request, I just knew that I had to make as long a fic as I could out of this. I had so many ideas and had a whole sequence planned out for the story. I like to imagine the ex is from Royal Sword Academy (just cuz I like the irony of it). I don't know when or how the Reader dated him, but who cares? She's got Leona now. Wish that were me. Also, I know you specified slapping the ex in the request, but I just thought it would be so much more satisfying to punch the bastard, so that's what I wrote. (Hope you still liked it)!

Masterlist

[minty-didoodle]

Confrontation (jan 2025), A3, black Stabilo pen

I really wanted to do a giant fight scene for the confrontation but then I remembered it would take me an entire semester to finish it, so I just drew Javert walking into the hospital while Valjean tried to negotiate.

I hated drawing with this pen, I realised I prefer a runnier ball point pens, the felt (?) tip ones always look like they're drying up if the gestures are too quick (which is how I like to draw, I have no patience lol)

Edit (jun 11th 2025): I found a sketch for this piece!

Love this sketch a million times more then the actual piece😔

[cometomecosette]

An incredible find! Two lengthy clips from the Original Broadway Cast of Les Mis, 1987.

The Runaway Cart/Who Am I?/Come to Me/Confrontation.

And the Epilogue.

Colm Wilkinson as Jean Valjean, Terrence Mann as Javert, Randy Graff as Fantine, Judy Kuhn as Cosette, David Bryant as Marius, and Frances Ruffelle as Éponine.

Wow!

[disappointingcabbage]

Fellas, is it gay to live inside another man forever with Satan himself by my side?

[gifs-of-puppets]

Muppets Now (2020)

[m-r-moth]

more of my favorite dramatic theatre kid scientist and his intrusive murder thoughts

[classycookiexo]

[okumadechan]

do we see the vision?

[aventurineswife]

aventurine x reader, but they both worked in the IPC together, until Reader faked their death to escape it. Aventurine kinda loses himself for a bit, but is sent on another planetary mission (idk what ipc assignments are called 😔) he notices one of the citizens looks a bit too much like a previous friend

Reader realizes Aventurine found them, and feeling too scared to face him after never saying goodbye, warning or anything, they run off to a secluded area aven follows them to, and boom we get angsty argument, bittersweet love confession, and happy or sad ending up to u!!

i hope this made sense

The Gamble of Lost Hearts | Part 1

Summary: After faking your death to escape the IPC and live a quiet life, You encounters Aventurine years later on a remote planet. Desperate to avoid facing him after leaving without a word, You run, but Aventurine tracks you down to demand answers.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, angst, reunion, faked death, confrontation, bittersweet, passionate kiss, unresolved feelings, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Warnings: Intense emotions, mention of grief and faked death, brief argument, bittersweet themes, kissing.

A/N: Thank for the request, Anon! Of course it made sense and I hope you like it!! I decided to go for a happy ending but lmk if you want a sad ending too 😇🤭

(Part 2)

The tall silhouette of the IPC headquarters still felt like a ghostly shadow looming over you, even on this remote planet. You'd spent years running from it, from him, leaving behind everything you knew to escape the endless cycles of high-stakes deals and veiled dangers. Faking your death was your only way out. A drastic choice, but one that had kept you free.

For the most part, it had worked. You’d blended into a quiet, new life here, far from the frenetic energy and luxurious intrigue of IPC. But today was different. A mission had arrived from IPC. You hadn’t realized who would be leading it—hadn’t dared to imagine he would come to this far-flung place.

And yet, here you were, ducking down behind market stalls, holding your breath every time he brushed past. His sandy-blond hair, elegant stance, and that gambler’s grin that still haunted your memories—it was all here. And with him came a flood of feelings you'd kept buried for years.

Somewhere along the winding paths of this new city, you’d slipped. He'd caught sight of you, and that glimmer in his eyes told you he knew.

You didn’t waste time running. You veered down alleyways, taking shortcuts and dodging through side streets, ignoring the heart pounding in your chest. The cliffside path outside the city led to a hidden grove where you’d often retreat to watch the waves crash far below. Maybe there, he would lose your trail.

But there was no outrunning someone like him.

“Quite the bold tactic—faking your own death,” His smooth voice sounded just as you remembered, laced with that same easy charm but edged with something new—something raw. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

You took a breath before facing him, his piercing gaze pinning you down as soon as you met his eyes. He stood mere steps away, looking as striking as ever, the faint roulette motif on his overcoat catching the last of the setting sun.

“Aventurine, I…” The words failed you. How could you explain years of silence? Of leaving him to mourn?

“I grieved you, you know.” His voice was soft, nearly breaking. “I searched, hoping it was all some misstep. Until the day I accepted you were…gone.”

The ache in his words stung worse than you’d anticipated. “I didn’t have a choice...” you whispered, but your words sounded feeble, empty even to yourself.

“No choice?” Aventurine scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. “We were supposed to be partners, weren’t we? You could have trusted me.” He took a step forward, anger blazing in his eyes. “But instead, you turned me into a fool. For years, I mourned a ghost while you built this quiet little life on the fringes.”

“You don’t understand,” you argued, feeling that familiar pang in your chest. “It wasn’t just about leaving IPC. I couldn’t… If I stayed, I would’ve lost myself. That place…it consumed everything.”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Aventurine’s voice softened, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face, a tender gesture that held the weight of all the things left unsaid between you. “Do you think I didn’t want to leave with you?”

You swallowed hard, caught off guard by his words. The idea of Aventurine—the gambler, the thrill-seeker—longing to escape had never crossed your mind. But here he was, his eyes reflecting a deep sadness that mirrored your own.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, the sincerity in your voice mixing with the regret that had gnawed at you all these years. “But I couldn’t drag you down with me.”

“You didn’t give me the choice.” he whispered, voice barely above a murmur. His eyes searched yours, desperate to find a reason, a justification that could somehow absolve the pain he’d carried all this time. And then, with a hint of frustration, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a fierce, desperate kiss. It wasn’t gentle—it was raw, full of the emotions he’d held back, the years he’d spent believing you were lost.

The kiss stole the words from your mouth, every excuse, every apology dissolving in the intensity of that single, electric moment.

When he pulled back, his hand still lingered at the side of your face, thumb tracing the faint line of your jaw as he gazed at you with a newfound resolve. “If you run again, I’m coming with you.” he murmured, his voice steadier now.

You met his gaze, realizing he meant it. There would be no more running, no more hiding. Aventurine wouldn’t let you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised softly, the weight of your words sinking between you both. “Not without you.”

A flicker of a smile returned to his lips, tempered by the hurt that had yet to fully heal but brightened by the glimmer of hope that you could finally face whatever came next—together.

[pinetreevillain]

Confrontation Part 3/3

😬

Previous, Stray ->

Masterpost

[rojosweet]

Cuál es la verdad desagradable que ignoramos?

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I confronted my middle school friend who I hadn’t seen in years at the emergency intercom Heaven exhibition after not seeing her in years. I her why she was such a bitch to me and she said, ‘I just didn’t care about you as a person,’ and that gave me such extreme peace, I was like, well ok.