#and maybe sees that life isn't all suffering until you die

[beecauseevan]

I would love some romantic buddie! As much as you can give me! Imo buck comes across as the more outwardly romantic/wears his heart on his sleeve kinda guy. I think eddie always wanted to be romantic but never allowed himself to be, because maybe he never felt safe enough or thought it wasn't the "manly" thing to do. So maybe he does like lots of little things to show buck how much he loves him, and something super super romantic like home cooked dinner, candles, bath etc. I mean like the cringest, most sappy romantic shit you can think of...give it all to me

Eddie steps back and surveys his work, a nervous breath escaping him. He can't afford a single mistake. This has to be flawless—it has to become one of those nights they'll always look back on with fondness. Fifty years from now, when Hildy and her AI overlords have taken over the world and even Eddie's extensive core workouts can't keep the back pain at bay anymore, the memory of tonight has to be one of those things that keep them going, along with walking chairs and arthritis meds. There's no room for anything but perfection here, because tonight has been years in the making.

As he stands there, casting a critical eye over the scene in front of him, all of those years come back to him. Six years of painful longing, crashing into Eddie like a high caliber bullet, tearing his body to pieces.

He's 31 and standing in a hospital waiting room, tired and guilty while Isabel suffers because Eddie can't get his shit together. He's 31 and Buck nods at him from across the station because he made sure Chris could come. He's 31 and Buck introduces him to Carla and a weight lifts from his shoulders and he thinks, maybe—and he's 31 and Shannon comes back and nothing else matters.

‎He's 32 and his life is in shambles and Buck saves his son from drowning, saves Eddie from himself, wanna go for the title, and Eddie wants, and maybe—but Chris is there. He's 32 and the well collapses on top of him and when he makes it out it's Buck who holds him up, and he goes to his attorney the very next day and shackles Buck to him legally, because if he can't have him physically that will have to do.

He's 33 and the world has descended into chaos and he sleeps on Buck's couch every day and he lies awake and listens to Buck's steady breathing, up on the loft, and he closes his eyes and he wonders, and he wants—but then he's 33 and Bobby tells him to take a chance on Ana and he does, because that's what a man does.

He's 33 and he's bleeding and Buck is covered in blood, might be hurt, and then the world fades to black and when he wakes up, Buck is with Taylor. He's 33 and he tells Buck he's not expendable, and Buck looks at him like maybe—he's 33 and nothing changes.

He's 34 and he can't love Ana the way he should. He's 34 and Buck tells him to break up with her, and Eddie does, and he wonders if that means, if—but then he's 34 and he's single and Buck isn't. 

He's 34 and his life falls to pieces. He's 34 and he's moved on but he hasn't, the 118 has moved on but Buck hasn't. He's 34 and he hasn't saved anyone but Buck is there, hand warm on Eddie's shoulder, steady in the face of Eddie's grief. He's 34 and Buck breaks up with Taylor and everything could change and nothing does.

He's 35 and Buck is dead and Eddie feels his ribs crack under his palms. He's 35 and 3 minutes and 17 seconds are an eternity spent in hell. He's 35 and Natalia sees Buck. He's 35 and he might as well date. He's 35 and nothing will ever, ever change between them. ‎He's 35 and he wants Buck so bad he might die from it.

He's 36 and his son is gone and he hurt another woman and Buck is dating a man. He's 36 and Buck breaks up with Tommy. He's 36 and he grabs Buck by the shoulders and kisses him until neither of them can breathe.

He's 36, and everything changes.

He's 37, now, and he's standing in his kitchen (their kitchen), and in front of him, the dining table looks like something straight from a pinterest board. The tablecloth is a dark crimson red and he used his good plates and his good silverware. In the middle of the table, a cluster of white candles illuminates the space. Next to the candles, leaving just enough distance to avoid a housefire, there's a vase filled with a dozen red roses.

It looks good. Whether or not it's perfect remains to be seen—only Buck can be the judge of that.

As if on cue, the front door opens. Eddie turns and waits, and when Buck comes through the kitchen door, Eddie is treated to the wonderful sight of his boyfriend, for once stunned beyond words, frozen in candlelight. He was visiting Maddie, and it seems that Jee-Yun got to him—there are watercolor stains on his blue shirt—but he's still the most beautiful thing Eddie has ever seen.

"What..." He looks away from the table, finally, up at Eddie, eyes wide. "Did I forget our anniversary? No, that's—that's in two months."

He's right. They're not celebrating their anniversary, or a birthday, or any other holiday. Eddie did this because Buck deserves it. There's no other reason—there doesn't need to be.

Buck deserves this, because he's had Eddie's back for seven years. Buck deserves this, because he makes Chris smile and Eddie laugh and he's saved both of their lives, more than once, in more ways than Eddie can count. Buck deserves this because he wakes Eddie up with soft kisses to his shoulder and harder kisses to his jawline and because he holds Eddie tight when they lie awake with sweat cooling on their bodies, and tighter still when they fall asleep too late. Buck deserves this because he's kind and he's smart and he makes Eddie's life better just by being in it.

Buck tells Eddie that he loves him all the time, with words and with gestures. Eddie has a harder time with it, even though he loves Buck just the same. Tonight, he wanted to show him as much.

"You didn't forget anything," Eddie assures him, and pulls out one of the chairs so Buck can sit down.

Buck does. His eyes are bright. His cheeks are rosy. Maybe that's the candlelight. Or maybe this is a first for him too.

"Chris?" he asks, as Eddie moves to the stove to get their food.

"He's with Pepa," Eddie says. "They're catching up on Hotshots. We have the house to ourselves."

Buck meets his eyes. A smirk has made its way into his stunned expression, small but striking. "That so?"

Eddie returns it with a smile of his own and comes back with two plates.

"Full disclosure," he says, "this is Bobby's steak."

There is no room for mistakes tonight. Eddie has not mastered steak yet, so he enlisted outside help. Buck smiles at him like he doesn't care, though.

"And there's tiramisu," Eddie adds. He almost stumbles as he sits down, too distracted by that smile. "For later. I got that from Cap, too."

He half expects Buck to call him a cheater (gently, jokingly, in that warmly mocking way he has, the one that makes Eddie want to kiss him until the world ends), but Buck just stares at him. He's still blushing. His foot brushes Eddie's under the table, and his fingers find Eddie's wrist.

"All of this." He waves his free hand at the candles, the flowers, the food. "Why?"

Eddie laces their fingers together and holds Buck's blue-eyed gaze.

"Because I love you," he says. "Because you deserve it. Because—I wanted to make you feel how you make me feel."

"I must make you feel pretty damn good," Buck says quietly. His hand squeezes Eddie's.

"You do," Eddie says simply, because that's not a truth he's ever struggled with. "You really do. And I wanted to give you something—good."

"It's better than good," Buck says and smiles. "It's perfect."

Eddie is 37. It's a perfect night, and the love of his life smiles at him in a kitchen filled with candlelight. He can't wait to be 38, 40, 60, 100. He can't wait to grow old with this man.

[panaceatthedisco]

Charles was actually so right we he told the Night Nurse that she didn't know anything about them.

She tries to prove him wrong by showing him that she knows his past, and more specifically, his trauma. She tries using that move on Kashi too. But the thing is, people are so much more than their pain, but as someone whose work is solely with dead children who were unable to pass on, I doubt she understands that.

The Night Nurse only begins to actually know who the boys are as people and what motivates them when she looks into Charles' mind the second time, to see the beginning of his greatest joys. She starts tearing up Charles' memories of Edwin and I wouldn't be surprised if that was the first time she'd seen one of the kids she was charged to find happy.

[sematarygirls]

Living Dead Girl Pt. II — Patrick Hockstetter.

part one

pairing : patrick hockstetter x ghost!reader

summary : patrick gave into his urges and finally tested his morbid curiosities on prey much larger than just a cat or dog. little did he know his actions would come back to haunt him... literally.

warnings : patrick being a psychopath , animal cruelty , male masturbation , graphic descriptions of murder and suicide , reader being manipulative , degradation , sexual themes ,

word count : 4.5k words !

a/n : can't believe i'm finally posting this after a year and a half. also this is my first attempt at smut-ish so i'm sorry if it's ass. im not gonna say this is 18+ bc I myself am not 18+ (im turning 18 this year tho) also im not your mom and idgaf what you read.

"Finally," a voice sounded, causing him to drop both his can and his plate. The sharp sound of glass breaking followed by a loud thud echoed through the room as the plate and soda can collided with the floor.

"No, no, no," Patrick shook his head, shutting his eyes. "This isn't real. I killed you. You're not here. You're not real."

"Sorry, babe," the voice, your voice, whispered into his ear. Your warm breath fanned his ear, and he felt his whole body tense. "I'm very much real."

"That's not possible," he said through gritted teeth. "I watched you die. I buried you!" He opened his eyes, convinced that this was all some terrible drug trip. Maybe the weed he'd just got from Henry was laced, or maybe he was suffering from a temporary psychosis. Either way, there had to be some rational and logical reason that he was seeing you.

However, when he saw you there, sitting there with a smug look on your face, your presence as solid as any living person, he felt his heart skip a beat.

You tilted your head, eyebrows furrowing as you pouted. "What's wrong, Patrick?" You asked condescendingly. "Don't act so scared now." You walked toward him slowly, watching him scramble backward in a panic. A smile spread across your lips as you saw the pure fear in his eyes when he hit the wall behind him, having nowhere else to go. "You weren't scared when you stabbed me. You weren't scared when you watched me bleed out in your arms. You weren't scared when you buried my body like some animal you found on the side of the road." Your voice was seeping with anger as you stepped closer and closer, cornering him. "So you don't get to be scared now."

Patrick Hockstetter was not someone who was frightened easily. In fact, up until this very moment, he didn't think he had the ability to be frightened at all. His unique ability to remain calm and collected in situations that would often stress others out was one he was prideful of. However, at that moment, he felt all composure and level-headedness dissolve. For the first time in his life, he was scared. Not just scared—terrified.

"What- What do you want?" He asked, his voice shaky as he looked into your eyes. You no longer looked at him like he hung the moon. There were no remnants of your innocence and naivety—willing to trust that people have the best intentions. There was nothing behind your cold, lifeless eyes. It was like staring at a corpse.

"Now, what's the fun in that?" You grinned, leaning forward so your face was inches away from his. Your gaze flickered to his lips. The same lips you thought he'd planned to kiss you with, but instead, he'd stabbed you in the stomach and mocked your intelligence. "You should really watch your back, Patrick," you whispered with a devious smirk, your breath fanning over his face. "I heard the search for me is really picking up after they found my blood in the woods."

Your words snapped him back to the reality of the situation at hand. He had killed you. What you were saying was impossible though. Right? He was meticulous in every stage of his plan. There was no way they found any trace of you. "What are you talking about?" He asked, his eyes searching you for any sign of deception, but you were impossible to read like this. He was no longer able to detect everything from a single glance. He only knew what you wanted him to know.

Without another word, you disappeared, leaving the boy spiraling as he went through all the events of that night over and over again. "Come back!" He screamed, his voice echoing through the empty house. "You can't just leave like that you bitch!"

Patrick let out a frustrated yell as he grabbed the nearest thing—which happened to be a porno mag—and threw it across the room in a fit of rage. Who did you think you were to haunt him? To come into his room, make him feel that horrible emotion, and tease him just to leave abruptly?

He sat on the edge of his bed, trying to control his heavy breathing as his anger took over. You had to have been lying, trying to get into his head. He hated to admit that it was working. He was supposed to be the one in your head. This was his world. He controlled everyone and everything. You shouldn't be here. You should be dead and buried like he had intended.

He fell back in his bed and took a deep breath, letting his mind settle as he chased sleep. He told himself you would be gone tomorrow and that would be that. Your appearance to him, like something out of a Charles Dickens novel, was just a fluke. Tomorrow you would be dead and all would be right with the world.

He drifted off to sleep, having convinced himself that he would never see you again. He was able to get a few hours of sleep, but you weren't going to let him be at peace for long

At around 4 am, Patrick had a very vivid dream that he was choking. He was gasping for air, clawing at his neck as he looked around frantically. His surroundings dissolved into a pitch-black room. He felt his lungs burning, his brain growing fuzzy as the oxygen left him. It felt so vivid, so real.

He awoke in a panic, sitting up straight as he gasped for air. His lungs felt like they were on fire. Like he had truly been deprived of air like he'd dreamed about. He panted, catching his breath as he looked around at his room, thankfully finding no signs of you. However, when he finally felt secure, able to draw a breath without feeling like a thirsty man drinking water, he realized the pillow that had been behind his head was now sat on his lap.

The realization dawned on him that he may have been actually suffocating, and you were the culprit. He shook his head, trying to expel the thought as he laid back down, throwing the pillow off into the black depths of his room, so he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. It was just a dream. Just as you were just a vision.

Patrick wasn't stupid, though many would argue to the contrary. Just because he didn't give a shit about school and didn't try didn't mean he wasn't smart. He just saved his intelligence for things that actually mattered—like planning and executing a murder.

That in mind, his refusal to accept the things he deep down knew to be true was not, as some would think, him being stupid. On the contrary, he believed himself smarter than to believe in silly things like ghosts. Dead things stay dead. He'd learned that at a very young age. He knew when he killed his brother that he would not be coming back. Just as he knew when he killed you that you would not be coming back.

Ghosts don't exist. He wasn't dumb enough to believe that.

As he laid in bed, trying to rationalize himself into a calm enough state to fall asleep again, he found himself more on edge with every creak of the old house around him. He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes conspiring with the moonlight to play tricks on him. His breath hitched at every shadow dancing around the dark.

You were proud of your work, and you had barely done anything yet. You watched from the shadows, pleased as he seemed to run himself in circles trying to cope with everything going on. The mere thought of you was torture enough.

You grinned, biting your lip as a thought washed over you. As a ghost, not bound by the physical realm, you had the ability to do a lot of things. One of those so happened to be raising and lowering the temperature in a room.

You focused hard, raising the temperature several degrees, making Patrick swear at the sudden sweat washing over him. You watched with a satisfied smirk as he pulled his shirt over his head, trying to cool himself off.

He didn't have a six pack or anything, but you didn't expect him to. He had a lean, toned torso with a very sexy v-line peeking out from his jeans. A small tattoo sat on his stomach just above his v-line on the right side. You couldn't make it out in the darkness, but you didn't care much. The sight of it alone was enough.

After all, who said you couldn't mix a little bit of business with pleasure.

He had taken away the rest of your life, all the possibilities of experiencing having your first kiss, losing your virginity, falling in love. It was only fair he made up for that in one way or another before your time together came to an end.

The time passed agonizingly slowly with Patrick staring at the ceiling and you watching him, studying him like he was some foreign thing. It was so interesting to watch someone when they don't know they're being watched. Of course, he felt the hairs on his neck stand on end, his body detecting the unseen eyes on him, but he chalked it up to paranoia—as he did every other unexplainable thing that seemed to be happening to him.

His mind drifted off, the heat making him restless as his brain filled with gruesome images of his previous kills. He sifted through his memory for the most interesting ones—dismembering birds, beheading cats, snapping a squirrel or two's neck—but none of them seemed to get him off anymore.

The image of your face right after he stabbed you made it's way into his mind. Your eyes, so wide and filled with fear. He could practically hear your sweet voice crying out, asking why he would do this to you. The thought made his cock tighten in his jeans.

He reached down, palming himself through his jeans with a groan. Reliving the sounds of you choking and coughing up your own blood had his fingers working quickly to undo his belt. He tossed it to the side, practically ripping the button off his jeans as he pulled them down along with his underwear, allowing his dick to finally be free from the restrictive fabric.

He spat in his hand, gripping his cock and lubricating it. He caught his chapped lower lip between his teeth as swept his thumb over his pink head, smearing his precum across it. He let out a low moan, letting his hand travel up and down his dick at a slow, agonizing pace. He kept his eyes screwed shut, immersing himself in the memory of your murder as he stroked himself.

Patrick was not a moral man by any means but this was a new low. Getting himself off to you, in his mind, was no better than if he was imagining one of his dead animal playthings. You were nothing to him. You were roadkill.

But, for some reason, the fresh sight of you, wearing the clothes he killed you in with that dark blood stain right where he'd stabbed you, your hair all matted, and the cold, lifeless look in your eyes, made it so easy to relive that night in great detail.

It was the greatest night of his life. The biggest release of pressure he'd ever felt since he began getting those homicidal urges—those itches. He didn't think he'd ever get to feel that euphoria again, but fucking himself to the thought of it would get him pretty damn close.

He let out a strangled moan, his hips pushing into his hand as he came, and he was right, it was the second-best feeling he'd ever felt. It didn't compare to killing you, but it was enough to satiate his urges once again.

He laid there, panting for what felt like hours. The time moved by so slowly until finally, the sound of the alarm block beside his bed blaring pulled him from his thoughts.

The red numbers reading 7:30 blinked slowly, reminding him that he had to get up and get ready for school. He leaned over, smacking the top of the clock roughly to silence it before falling back flat on his bed, preparing himself to get up.

He groaned, pushing himself up and grabbing a random pair of jeans and a shirt that smelled clean enough. He quickly got dressed before making his way back downstairs. He knew Belch would be here any second to pick him up—he always woke up later than he was realistically supposed to.

He slipped his boots on, and a few moments later, he heard Belch laying on his car horn. Rolling his eyes, he opened the door, heading outside and letting it slam just behind him.

"Calm your tits," he shouted in annoyance. Patrick always had a short fuse, but after the particularly restless night in which he'd been visited by some fucking ghost of Christmas Past, he found himself particularly irritable.

"Dude what happened yesterday?" Victor asked as Patrick climbed into the blue Trans Am.

"You were totally tripping the fuck out," Belch chimed in, starting the car and peeling out of Patrick's neighborhood.

"Dumb fuck can't handle his liquor," Henry scoffed from his spot in the passenger's seat.

"Shut the fuck up, Bowers," Patrick bit back, gazing out the window. "At least some of us don't piss our pants when we drink."

"It was one fucking time you dickhead!" Henry defended quickly, his cheeks turning red from the embarrassment.

At the feeling of someone's hand on his thigh, Patrick quickly looked over at Vic. "Don't fucking touch me you-" he paused just short of spitting some derogatory remark about Victor being gay and a freak when he saw you sitting between him and Victor, grinning at him darkly.

"What the fuck are you talking about, dude?" Victor asked, bewildered by Patrick's behavior. Patrick was always an odd one, but he never acted this weird.

"He probably smoked himself fucking dumb," Henry grumbled, still annoyed about the pants pissing remark.

You held a finger to your lips as climbed over onto his lap, holding onto his shoulders to steady yourself. You just wanted to rile him up a little, make him feel suffocated by you, like he could never escape. And truly, he couldn't. You were never going anywhere until you believed justice had properly been served, and you would take that in any form.

He glared at you, but you paid him no mind, leaning to whisper into his ear: "How cute," you condescended him. "You thought I would just go away." You dug your nails into his shoulders making him sharply inhale, trying not to tip off his friends to the seemingly unwarranted pain he was feeling. "You will never be rid of me," you whispered menacingly, looking deep into his eyes with a sickening grin that made nausea pool in his stomach.

In any other situation, having someone on his lap, digging their nails into his shoulders would probably have been a pleasurable experience, but this was not any other situation. This was a nightmare he couldn't seem to wake up from.

When Belch finally pulled into the school parking lot, Patrick couldn't get out of the car fast enough. You disappeared as he scrambled to unlock the door and get out, finally feeling like he could breathe. He pulled his shirt collar to the side, looking down at the angry red marks where your nails had been. They served as a disturbing reminder that you were really there, and you could do anything to him.

"You get laid last night, Hockstetter?" Belch asked, grinning as he saw the red marks.

"That why you ran off yesterday?" Henry snickered. "You pussy whipped?"

"At least, I actually get pussy," he sneered, paling as he heard your laugh echoing around him the moment the words slipped from his lips. It was a deafening sound. Like a mix between a cackle and a scream that seemed to permeate his surroundings.

His jaw clenched, eye twitching as he resisted the urge to cover his ears. Apart from not wanting to look insane, he also didn't think it would help much. You weren't around him. You were in him, in his head.

The bell could faintly be heard going off inside the school, making Victor curse under his breath. They had two minutes to get to class or they were late.

"Mrs. Denton's gonna throw a bitch fit if I'm late again," he groaned, watching as Henry lit a cigarette.

"Kiss ass," he remarked, taking a long drag before exhaling the puff of smoke into Belch's face as Victor walked away.

"You asshole," Belch coughed, shoving Henry.

"Oh, shit." Henry's eyes widened as he tossed his cigarette on the ground, quickly stomping it out. "Let's go," he ordered, making his way up the stairs to the front doors of the school, looking behind him frantically.

Patrick's eyebrows furrowed at the sudden shift in Henry's demeanor. He followed the brunette's gaze, his eyes locking with those of Butch Bowers, the sheriff.

"Wonder if they're here for you," your voice taunted him, breath tickling the back of his right ear. He turned, preparing to come face to face with that condescending smile you always seemed to be wearing, but you weren't there.

He looked back, finding Sheriff Bowers still staring at him, seemingly ignoring whatever the deputy was leaning into his ear to say. Patrick wasn't one to back down easily, but your presence, your warnings, had him on edge. He quickly advanced forward, his lengthy legs providing long strides as he followed suit in heading inside Derry Highschool.

The sounds of his heavy boots hitting the linoleum floor echoed through the empty hall as he made his way to his math class. Victor was right; Mrs. Densen was going to throw a bitch fit that he was late, but he didn't care. He wouldn't have cared on a normal day, but on this day, with the police sniffing around and you practically breathing down his neck, he cared even less—which he didn't even know was possible.

He pulled open the door to the classroom, a hush falling over the students as he entered. Most stared at him wide-eyed, some avoided looking at him altogether, and he briefly caught Vic looking at him with sympathy. The teacher, however, was glaring at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Mr. Hockstetter, late again I see," she said pointedly. "You've earned yourself a detention after school today." Patrick stifled a laugh as he made his way to his seat at the very back of the classroom. "Is something funny?" She asked, her tone displaying clear annoyance.

"Yeah, that you think I care," he rolled his eyes, slipping into his desk. He tuned out whatever lecture the teacher decided to give him after that. His gaze drifted to the empty desk in the front row— the one you used to sit at.

"Don't go feeling remorseful now," you said into his ear. He felt your arm around his shoulders as you leaned down, your face positioned next to his. He turned to look at you, and you turned to look at him, your faces almost touching.

your breath fanned across his face, the moment oddly intimate until you grinned at him, opening your mouth and emitting an ear piercing scream.

"Ah," he grunted in pain, his eyes screwing shut, and his hands gripping his ears. It felt like his eardrums were seconds away from bursting and causing blood to pour out of his ears. "Shut the fuck up!" He yelled, the room, and you, falling dead silent immediately after the words left him.

He peeled his eyes open, his hands falling as he looked around. "Excuse me, Mr. Hockstetter," the teacher gasped, clearly taken aback by his outburst. "Take yourself to the principal's office right this instant!" She ordered him.

His blood began to boil as he stood up abruptly, storming out of the classroom and slamming the door behind him. He was getting very very sick and tired of your little games. He headed toward the back door of the school, not wanting to cross paths with Henry's dad.

"This doesn't look like the way to the principal's office," you mused, appearing beside him. He stopped, turning to shove you against the locker. He groaned when his arms made contact with the locker instead of your body, and your laugh echoed behind him. "You think you can hurt me, how cute."

He let out a frustrated groan, smashing his fists against the locker. He couldn't stand you. He couldn't stand having someone that he couldn't manipulate or hurt but that could manipulate and hurt him. "What do you want with me?" He asked, refusing to look at you.

"To break you," you grinned. "To have you begging for it to stop."

Yeah, right he thought.

He was Patrick fucking Hockstetter; he didn't beg. He didn't bend to the will of others, especially not some dead bitch. He was determined not to let you win. You would eventually get tired of tormenting him and go back to wherever the fuck you came from. He was sure of it.

Oh, how he underestimated your patience and overestimated his resilience.

He lasted exactly a week. A week of you screaming and poking and scratching and fucking with his head. A week of people staring at him like he was insane with his random outbursts and talking to the air. A week of torment before you finally had him right where you wanted him.

"Just leave me alone!" He begged, standing in the middle of his room with his head in his hands. You had finally drove him to the brink of insanity, and he didn't know how much longer he could live like this. You, being everywhere all the time, taunting and touching and teasing, it was too much for him. He couldn't take it anymore. "Go away!"

You tsked, grinning at him, that condescending grin that filled him with indescribable rage. How could you look at him like that? Like he was stupid? You were the stupid one. You were killed by him not the other way around!

"I'm afraid that's not how this works," you told him, shaking your head slightly. "I get to stay until you give me what I want." You took a step, punctuating the next words you said with a pause between each one and another step forward. "However. Long. It. Takes."

"What the fuck do you want from me?" He yelled, desperate to get you away from him forever.

"Well," you drawled, running your index finger along his chest, making him flinch. You smiled at the effect you had on him. He talked a big game, getting mad when you left—cursing, throwing things, even—having the audacity to fuck himself to the thought of your murder— but when it came to being face to face with you, he cowered away.

Ain't nothing like a little fear to make a paper man crumble as Henry Bowers' father once said.

"I'll be nice and give you a choice," you said darkly. "You can turn yourself in," you almost laughed at the way his demeanor hardened. "Which we both know you're too proud and stubborn to do," you continued. The intrigue behind Patrick's eyes was undeniable as he eagerly awaited his second choice. "Or," you trailed off, grabbing a razor from his dresser and holding it in front of his face. "You can die."

"You're a crazy bitch!" He shouted, though his inability to mask the tremble in his voice made him sound less than threatening.

"Maybe," you shrugged, admiring the sharp piece of metal. "Hmm," you hummed. "I wonder how you'll feel about me in another week," you asked thoughtfully. "I bet you'll be wishing you took the chance while you had it."

His jaw clenched at your words. He'd already lost a considerable amount of sleep because of you, and the thought of you tormenting him any longer was a fate worse than death. "Why don't you just kill me?" He asked defeatedly. You'd backed him into a corner that he was positive he couldn't get out of without doing things your way.

"I'm not you, Patrick," you spat hatefully. "I don't kill people or things."

"What? Like driving me to suicide is any better?" He scoffed, challenging your sense of superiority over him.

"You have an informed choice," you told him, trying to regain your calm. You didn't like losing your temper, especially not to the likes of Patrick Hockstetter, scum of the earth. "That's a luxury you didn't extend to me."

He eyed the blade in your hand warily. He didn't like accepting defeat. He would never admit to killing you. Being confined to a tiny room, unable to satiate that burning itch deep inside him whenever he needed; it would drive him mad.

"Go on," you urged him softly, holding the razor out for him to take. "Put yourself out of your misery. End it all and be free."

He looked between you and the blade hesitantly, a million thoughts running through his mind as he tried to make a decision. Glaring at you, he took the blade. A scowl formed on his face as he observed the triumphant expression that you seemed to wear immediately after he made his choice.

"Two deep cuts, and you'll never have to see me again," you assured him. That all but sealed the deal. Patrick didn't believe in heaven or hell and death didn't scare him. Being caged like one of the many animals he's so cruelly killed scared him more than dying. He walked over to his bed, sitting on the edge.

He sucked in a breath, pressing the blade into his wrist and dragging it upward toward his inner elbow. He clenched his teeth, deeply inhaling through them. A groan of pain fell from his lips as he felt the warm blood begin seeping from his wound, running down his arms and onto his jeans. He continued the action on the other arm, feeling nauseous and lightheaded.

The blade fell from his trembling fingers, clattering to the floor as he fell back onto the bed. His head felt foggy, and the pain began to melt away into numbness. His eyes began to droop, and he faintly saw your outline standing above him.

He just barely felt you lean down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. His ears began to ring as his eyes fell shut. The words you spoke next were the last he would hear before his heart slowed to an eventual stop. He almost couldn't make them out, the sound muffled, as if he was underwater, but his mind used its last bit of energy to process them before giving out.

"Goodbye, Patrick Hockstetter," you said softly. "May you burn in hell."

tags! : @fatfagsj , @mysticalhills , @simpingforthe80s , @slasherho , @pinkpanther-44 , @slaggylemon , @kyranisnotdead , @ladydragiiss ,

[myhamartiaishubris]

Ben Hargreeves is the worst written best character and I can prove it

This is a poorly organized meta/essay about my baby boy who got massacred. Originally posted in the discord server so some of y'all have seen it already.

Let me be clear: this is a love letter to my favourite Hargreeves boy. I could write him better. I could fix him (narratively).

Here's why Ben is a great character who, paradoxically, was very badly written.

Umbrella Ben

Listen. Listen to me. Ben Hargreeves was, from the moment I saw him, my absolute favourite character. He's already dead? Doomed by the narrative before the narrative even begins? Also, an East Asian character in the year of our Lord 2018?? I was on board. And Brelly Ben gets a lot of good moments! You know that scene where Klaus is in the motel closet, tied up, and Ben says something like, "How does it feel being helpless? This is how I feel, watching my brother piss his life away." Um, hello?? That's such a delicious line.

Because up until this point Ben's been kind of quiet, in that dead broody way, or we saw his young self being soft and reluctant. But suddenly we realize, oh, Ben isn't nice. In fact, he's kind of nasty to his addict brother, and you get this kernel of a glimpse into his character. This is a character who might have been soft-spoken in life, but death and the years since have shredded him down to all his razor edges. He's still that bookish little Ben, except he's not little and he's frustrated, angry, traumatized, and in pain.

And season 2 builds on this! He's willing to violate Klaus's personal boundaries just for a taste of life again. Holy shit that's so delicious. My problem is that, especially in season 2, this isn't explored nearly as much as it could be. Ben's possession shenanigans are mostly played for comedy, when in fact we could be delving into the implications of Ben's character and his relationship with Klaus. You have this character who's kind, who (from what we know so far) represented the "good" of the academy, who loves his brother so so hard and it hurts him so bad to see Klaus hit rock bottom every time. The little "I missed you guys" in season 2? Devastating. And yet despite his goodness he is capable of being a bad person, and he repeatedly hurts those around him (namely Klaus).

So surely this is part of his arc, right? This is going to be explored and resolved. Right?

The Season 2 Ending

So the thing is, I didn't immediately hate the way they had Ben move on / die to save Viktor. I was sad to see my favourite character go, but also excited to see where the writers would take that storyline. Because, obviously, it wasn't over. Right? Obviously Ben's arc isn't finished, he hasn't resolved his frustrations, his complicated relationship with Klaus is never fully untangled, plus the rest of the family never get a moment of real closure with him (except maybe Diego). So clearly, it wasn't over. Right?

Well, in light of season 4, I can confidently come back and say that killing Brelly Ben off here was a stupidass decision.

And here's why: you've effectively splintered his arc in half. Starting from season 3, Ben is an entirely different character, with an entirely different arc that needs to be built from the ground up. While everyone else gets 4 seasons of development, Ben only gets 2, both times. And I'm so not over the fact that his arc isn't over. We saw Ben do some reprehensible shit to Klaus, especially in season 2 with all that possession shit! And we just. Never hear from him again? That's bullshit.

But anyway, since we're here, let's make peace with being here. Hey, Justin H Min is still playing a version of Ben, and he seems interesting, if way different! Surely this will have some interesting implications.

Sparrow Ben

Oh god, Sparrow Ben. In terms of Ben's character writing, season 3 is... fine. Like I said, it suffers from effectively fracturing his arc in half and having to start over, and this isn't the complicated, kind but frustrated and prickly ghost Ben I originally fell in love with. But ok, I do like Justin, and EA rep is still a win to me, so let's go with the flow.

For the most part, season 3 does a solid job. We get some solid beats relating to Ben's ambition and inferiority complex being Number 2. There's a bit of overacting on Justin's part, but hey, that's camp. (I think. I have no idea if I'm using that word right. Am I hip with the kids?)

I really, really loved Ben's moment with Sloane as she's getting married, because it highlights the core of this Ben's character: someone who desperately yearns for family but has forced himself to be all hard shell and soldier. In a way, he's the other end of Brelly Ben's spectrum. (Like forsterite and fayalite - all Mg on one end, Fe on the other.) How much of this Ben is family softness, how much of it is defense mechanism and lashing out?

And then of course - the thing I've been craving so badly - the in-universe comparison to Brelly Ben. This was done... underwhelmingly, if I'm honest. I liked that Ben had a moment of crisis where he couldn't live up to the Umbrellas' dead version of himself, and his moment with Klaus was nice, but in light of season 4 it becomes clear that we could have had more. I wanted him to have an entire arc about it - after all, it's a pretty significant aspect of your character to be "the worse version of yourself from another timeline." (Refer to @vyther16's Gongye Jiwu fic.) I feel like there's a lot of meta you could pull from that, about how your siblings who aren't your siblings look at you and see someone different. Someone you won't be. Someone you can't be, even if you tried, so why bother trying? And they really don't dig through that at all, which is disappointing.

The tentacle samurai fight is badass, though.

Season 4

Oh buddy oh boy. There's so much dumpster fire here, but I'll start with the season 3 loose ends and then move on to season 4's own problems.

1) Sloane. Luther picks Ben up from prison, so I thought they might have an interesting bonding moment over Sloane - after all, they're the two people who cared most about her. But actually no, apparently Ben doesn't give a shit about the one real sister he actually had left at the end of s3.

2) The subway thing. Wasn't he in Korea? My grasping-at-straws ass truly thought that might have been Brelly Ben in the reset timeline, and we'd get a Ben-Ben confrontation or a battle in the minds thing. But I guess that doesn't matter.

3) The Jennifer Incident. So we all know that everyone forgetting about an incident they explicitly reference is stupid, right? Especially because the name Jennifer only exists because they reference it in s3. Ben obsessively draws Jennifer, and then he doesn't recognize or know her? Kill me.

The continuation of his arc is also just sloppy, if it even exists. No more identity crisis about being the worse Ben, no more secret yearning for family or inferiority complex about being a good soldier. Suddenly his arc amounts to, uh, being an asshole and getting hit with sex pollen so powerful it ends the world.

And look, there is a world where Sparrow Ben spiking everyone with marigold could parallel with Brelly Ben's consent problems with Klaus. There is a world where Sparrow Ben dying because of Jennifer could echo Brelly Ben's death in a haunting, tragic, destined kind of way.

But, uh, none of that happens. Here we are, finally getting a Ben-centric season, and it's this. Being relegated to a plot device in your own season. Looking back and realizing that you were always the plot device, even in season 2. Carrying all that tragedy in your little ghost body and being treated like Chekov's waterlogged gun.

And I can't help but look back at season 1, Klaus trying so desperately to prove Ben's existence, and contrast it with the literal next season where a single throwaway line from Klaus sidelines Ben for a whole season. And then he dies. And he dies again.

Fucking hell.

It feels like I'm being made a fool of. Oh, you cared about this East Asian character? You wanted him to have narrative weight and character presence instead of being a plot device for the benefit of his White brothers? Idiot.

Because you'll still be here anyway, right? You'll grasp onto your crumbs for a cool EA character, you'll let us run a character through a trash compactor and keep pretending he's a good character because you latched onto this one East Asian protagonist and you don't want to admit that maybe you should have let go years before.

[seungkwanniee]

pairings : boyfriend!seventeen x fem!reader

genre : angst

warnings : toxicity , cursing words , mention of death , being manipulate , love bombing , dependence , mention of eating disorder (hoshi) , mention of a break up

synosis : what red flag seventeen could be imo

an : I'm not romanticizing wrongdoing or saying they are okay !!!! Jeonghan again the shortest omg, ily my man 😔

〔masterlist〕

SCOUPS 』

I think we can all agree that Scoups is deffo possessiveness

"what the fuck do you mean I can't go because you're jeolous of other guys. It's not my problem it's yours" you scream your lungs out. You can't belive what you are hearing right now, you tought your boyfriend was more mature than that.

"you're not going anywhere because I said so. You're mine, you're in my possession, you're locked with me until the day you die" he would just add fuel by holding firm your waist, or maybe your wrist, making you just fall for him again

he would go crazy even if a boy looks at your direction, you're for only his eyes, you can't be too pretty for the others. You can't have friends, you need to spend all the single time with you and you can't run out of energy on others. Always have to be 100% for him.

JEONGHAN 』

he would be a manipulator fr

"do whatever you want, you'll comeback to me in two weeks" and throught this two weeks, he would say the most manipulating things

"you was overreacting over an innocent thing" "it's everything in your mind" after you broke up for the frist time because he cheated: no, nothing is in your mind. But he would sound so convicing that you'd fall for him over and over. His angel face is too beautiful to be just yours, right?

JOSHUA 』

so green flag that it was hard to think that he may be love bombing

"I love everything about you" didn't sounded weird at the start of your relationship with Joshua. His gift along with flowers almost every week didn't looked that strange in your eyes. Him showering you with love was everythings that you needed: the 1, 2 and 3 month went so smooth that you started thinking that everything was a dream. It can't be real.

"let's brake up" text on a friday afternoon really wasn't what you expected. It must be a joke, right? it can't be all of the sudden. You trying to contact him everywhere, even his stupid friends. All blocked. He broke up with you, after making fun of you for months like you didn't meant nothing to him. And probably it was like that, he must be having fun while your world breaks. After all, he is cronically offline.

JUN 』

I see him so much like emotional dependence

"why you can't be free today?" "are you really sure you can't?" "you can do this tomorrow" notification one after the other showed up on the phone screen, interrupting your work one again. Working on an life-depending project with a clingy boyfriend wasn't pleasant, and many people tend to say you was just overreacting.

"he cares about you" no, this isn't caring about your partner anymore. This is being completely obsessed at the point where you can live anymore. You chest was heavy, he sended at least thirty message about the already cleared thing, why he can't just accept it.

Imagine not being able to hang out with your friends, not able to have a girls night anymore. Watching them having fun, and then there is you being blocked by doing everything because of a boy. This isn't love anymore

HOSHI 』

him as excessive sarcasm fit so perfect

"you looked really fat in here" he was joking, but it didn't sounded funny to a girl suffering from eating disorder.

"soonyoung, don't you think you go too far with your mouth?" it should be you boyfriend defending you from dumbass, not his friends. He finds you crying yourself to sleep, on the floor, sitted on the couch and even in front of a meal. He was the one that everytime he saw you crying, he would hold you tightly and reassure you.

Everythink was vain when he jumped in with his unfunny jokes about you body. Who was laughing? none, even you as the most ironic person. It was just him on the floor, almost crying for his jokes. And you looked at him, wishing to desappear as fast as possible, and it was happening

WONWOO 』

a gamer is cronically online

"wonwoo, can I know the last time we spent time togheter?" who you even talked to? The one that was supposted to be your boyfriend was acting more like an hikikomori. His headphones were on, so there was no way he heard you. His eyes focused on the screen while his fingers were moving fastly. He was in the dark of his room, in this position, for at least 3 hours, and it was only 2pm.

You walk trowards him, moving aside the headphones. His head snapping trowards you so quickly that it almost scared you. "what are you doing? wha- omg. You made me lose, fuck" his acting was so redicolous, can you belive he is in his late 20'? "at least I have my boyfriend eyes on me" you almost sounded so pity, and it was so ashaming that you was even in this position.

"you're happy? I need to resume now" yeah, it lasted less than a minute. He putted on his headphone while his eyes must be hurting for that screen time.

WOOZI 』

what if not lack of communication

"why you're angry at me? If you not talk it out, I'll never know what's wrong with you" you was chasing him desperatly while he was wandering around your shared house. It was the frist time in an almost a week that he was staying at home for a little bit longer and not just sleep on the couch. The week was going on by him being the most of the time at the studio recording, writing, producing or maybe just ignoring you. You never been a lover of communication too, so you ignored him back, but it was driving you crazy at this point. You thought you was going insane.

"if I knew you would've been a pain in the ass, I would have stayed in my fucking studio" he now was cursing at you for... what? You was so sick of this, and you was feeling like you didn't counted nothing to him. "if you are not sharing your feelings, then let's break up", all you wanted was a reaction from him, this might lead him to say something but you was just facing a cold wall.

"kay" was everything he had to say, while you watched him cross the front door without even looking back at you for once.

DOKYEOM 』

man is know for pouting and be sensitive

"dokyeom, why are you behaving like this... again" you roll your eyes back by the sensitiveness of your boyfriend. Early in your relationship, you thought it was kinda cute of him, you loved reassuring him and slightly kiss his pout. But, things changes, and actually you was going insane by his behavior. Everytime you let him notice a bad thing he has done to you, he would just sit there, cross his arms and pout. Not talking to you even if you was speaking to him. You was the one hurted by his behaviors, and he was the one pouting?

"fuck, can you drop your childish stupid behavior" your patience today was thin. You wasn't going to apologize one again and put aside your feelings, they were valid maybe more than his unreasonable ones. You didn't even got a single stare from him, he was just scrolling throught his phone mindless. For a little, you was even being pity, maybe you was the wrong here. Maybe the sensitive one was you?

MINGYU 』

have a feeling that he is forgetful

"this son of a bitch" you humble under your breath hanging up the phone once again. It's been two hours and your boyfriend was fucking ghosting you, on your birthday after you cancelled all the plans with family and friends just to have a night out with him. He promised you that this time he wasn't going to forget your date, but he is just a liar.

You should've listen to your friends when they said to not trust him, not once again. You complained a lot of how forgetful your boyfriend was, how he was making you get ready just for him to forgot and cancel everything. But you fell for that man everytime you put your eyes on him, like you was forgetting all the pain he caused you, all the beakdown he caused to you.

And now, you was speding your birthday night crying your eyes out, dressed up for him just to be seen by none.

MINGHAO 』

so lack of listening coded for me

"hao, you're even listening to me?" you look at him, while he drink his tea. His gaze lost in nothing, and maybe his mind was everywhere but on you. You can't put blame on him, he has bad day or he is just tired right? but he has bad days every single day? Maybe it was okay, you are so talkative that time by time you get tired of yourself.

You can't say it doesn't hurt tho, whole life being shutted down and the lack of listening from you boyfriend just reopens a wound, or it was never closed. You wish he could at least listen when you're crying your eyes out, when you're opening with him, at least when you act in love with him.

VERNON 』

boy is mad cold

"have you ever said that you love me?" you was in a long-term relationship, you just thought it was weird of him never expressing love. You was feeling like you didn't counted a single thing to him, while you could just gave him the whole world. He just shurrg his shoulder while his mouth was filled with food, so you excuse him for the lack of words knowing deep down yourself that he wouldn't dare a words even otherwise.

"for you it's completely right then?" you weren't even curious, you already know the answer so you're just hurting yourself more. You don't know if having answer directly from him would make things clearer or not, you just know how much this is hurts: it almost feel like a one-sided love, not a good experience. You hate the way you chest hurts everytime for a man that doesn't care about you.

SEUNGKWAN 』

over friendly boyfriend one hundred percent

"you are blind or don't you see how that whore clinges at you?!" you were MAD, it wasn't possible that your boyfriend gives zero respect for you or he can't see how his girl friends were wandering way too much around you. That night it didn't even seemed that you was his girlfriend, he just seemed a single boy loving all the attention.

"just friends! I can't even have female friend now?" you look at him stunned, he was being for real? He just looked so dumbfounded, like he really doesn't get the point. He doesn't see what he is doing wrong, he just don't get the way he is disrespecting you and this made you thing he will never change

DINO 』

he would compare you to others

"aw~ see that couple, why you don't do the same~" he points out a couple that was being clingy... maybe too much. He really wanted to look like this, in public?

"you know my friend passed at the frist try? you should do the same" while you're talking about how you can't pass that fucking exam at the university that it's been bothering you for months now. But he does that for everything, how you should look shorter than him like that one friend of his does, how you should cook like Mingyu does, how you should more extrovert, more cheerful, more more and more. It's like you aren't worth, you aren't okay in anything, how someone it's always better than you.

It's been bothering you for months, he made you felt insicure about every single thing of you. Look, personality, worth, skills and everything you could even think. But you are perfect Lee Chan, aren't you?

[chenya-my-love]

Fictional Yuu

I see a lot of people basing Yuu off of characters on TV and in games. They'll have characters (usually Idia) make refrence to this fact but usually in just a throw away line. But nobody really leans into the idea of Yuu actually coming from some fictional media in Twisted Wonderland.

Like imagine some character like Cater, or maybe Vil while advertising the VDC, posting a photo with Yuu in it. Only for some random account to comment "That's an amazing cosplay, it looks so much like the character". And of course they're confused, they keep looking for who in the photo is cosplaying but nobody is there. Eventually just asking the commentor who was being cosplayed. The comment is simple.

"Right next to you. That's Yuu from (insert anime/game name here)". They don't believe it until they look up the listed media and sees the character they think Yuu is cosplaying and are shocked. They look identical to Yuu (except animated). Their name, looks, and personality are all identical to Yuu. It is Yuu.

I see two (techincally three) routes this could go. A RomCom route and an angst route.

The romcom route revolves around Yuu having a canon love interest making the boys jealous (regardless on whether they entered a relationship yet or the plot was still building it up) and trying to imulate them.

Like all the wikis say that Yuu's feelings blossomed after the love interest nursed them back to health when they were sick, so the moment Yuu gets sick the boy is just rushing to Ramshackle to take care of them. Or if Yuu caught feelings first and it was some romantic moment, the boys try to emulate that scene so Yuu will fall for them too.

But than we have the angst routes.

A scenerio where all the boys decide to watch the anime/play the game that Yuu is from. Only for Yuu to catch them, quickly learning that they're fictional.

Yuu realizing that all their memories were made up, and if their a playable character all their actions were being controlled. That all their suffering was pointless, that it was done simply to make them more interesting or to entertain a bunch of other worldly beings that Yuu didn't know existed.

Yuu having an breakdown over everything. Their life isn't even their own.

Or

While learning about Yuu's world and story, they learn Yuu dies. And not just a shock value death that could be removed from the plot without care, their death is important. Their death leads to the ending whether that be Yuu sacrificing themself for the greater good or Yuu's death motivating the protag to take down the villain.

All that matters is that Yuu dies and Yuu needs to die. The story can't progress without Yuu there.

The boys realizing that if they send Yuu back to their world, their pretty much signing Yuu's Death Certificate. And Yuu doesn't know. The boys now know that Yuu is doomed by the narrative and is destined to die in the end, but Yuu doesn't. They can't even tell Yuu cause Seven only knows how Yuu will take the news that not only are they fictional but they're also destined to die.

[reds-skull]

Thank youuu

I love them too, I'm thinking of having them as a big brother/little brother duo maybe?? Anyway here's them buying tea for the base like stereotypical Brits

Ok first time I read this my heart melted because it's so sweet :]

I keep thinking up aus for mw2, but they're all too complicated for a one-off comic, and I just finished a series so I'm not doing another one for the time being. But I had a superpower au for them, that I'm gonna explain under a read more because I know it's gonna be long lmao

But before that thank you for everyone again! I read all your lovely comments and they warm my heart <333

SO in this au, some people gain powers the first time they die. The powers are based on how they died (also when they die they meet these cool eldritch beings called reapers that have a little chat with them to decide if they're worthy of those powers).

Soap died from an explosion. Got blown out of a building. So his powers are explosion resistance and creation. His fingertips are always on fire because he's practically blowing the air around them all the time.

Gaz fell off a helicopter :( so now he can manipulate gravity, either objects around him or himself. He also floats a few inches off the ground most times.

Price was kinda hard for me to decide but I ended up making him die by abandonment. Now he can telepathically communicate with people.

And Ghost... he died in that coffin. Got pulled out by a reaper and received the powers to control limbo, the space between life and death. He's not authorized to use them unless he's alone, so he gets sent on solo missions only, until Price recruits him to the 141.

That is, until he pairs up with Ghost.

Before being recruited to the 141, Soap mainly defused bombs. Since, even if it's too late, he won't die. Thing is, Soap still gets hurt. His bones get crushed, his heart stops, his limbs get torn apart. He does heal, but the worse the injury, the longer it takes.

That made him kinda depressed. Because he felt like a glorified bomb robot. Except he's cheaper, since it doesn't cost the military any money when he fails to defuse on time.

Ghost isn't immune to bombs. He himself doesn't enter limbo, since that traps anything alive.

He and Soap go on a mission where intel suggests the enemy has rigged various explosives around the intel they need. They split up, Soap goes to defuse them and Ghost slowly makes his way through the facility.

And Ghost does help him. But he treats him like he would a regular, non-powered human. Stops when he's in too much pain, encourages him through it. Does his best to stop the bleeding.

Ghost completes his objective, but Soap gets spotted by an enemy and detonates the bomb he's working on to save himself.

Ghost find Soap after he fails to sitrep, impaled by a rebar. He whimpers and begs Ghost to help him off it, since he can't heal.

Because Ghost sees him as human. He watched as Soap kept trying to make jokes with him, but more importantly, how he treated him no differently from anyone else.

Soap, for his side, isn't used to that... gentleness. And that's how his interest in Ghost begins.

They exfil and return to base. A few months pass, and Ghost keeps an eye on one Soap MacTavish. Looks through his medical records, past missions. Finds out just how much he suffers through.

But Ghost isn't his commending officer, so he can't do anything. Until he's approached by his captain, John Price. He brings up the option of adding a new member to the taskforce. He gives Ghost the candidates he considered, Soap was brought up, Ghost stops him and states that he would agree to a new member if it was Soap.

Now if I had like, better writing abilities I would have absolutely written this as a fic. Butttt I don't and even if I did, I don't have confidence in them so I won't. But this idea is now out there and you can do whatever you want with it.

Also I got like a lot more sketches of this au but I only posted the ones I made for the ask.

[calisources]

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋, 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All quotes are taken from different media about betrayal, heartbreak and future betrayal or the art of it. Some quotes include some foul language so please beware. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit for your muses.

It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.

The mistake was mine, for trusting you.

For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.

I used to advertise my loyalty and I suffered the consequences of it.

I used to open my heart easily, until you broke it.

Why did you despise me?

 You loved me - what right had you to leave me?

He would have killed me.

Then you should’ve died. Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you.

I think I realized that I would rather die because I betrayed them, than live because I betrayed you.

Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime.

It's hard to tell who has your back, from who has it long enough just to stab you in it.

What was it that you wanted and why didn't you fight for it?

But... do you stop loving someone just because they betray you? 

That's what makes the betrayal hurt so much - pain, frustration, anger... and I still loved her. I still do.

 Maybe I was safe to you, and you needed to feel that.

I could never hurt him enough to make his betrayal stop hurting.

You are going to break your promise. I understand. 

When someone stabs you in the back and then apologizes, accept the apology, but don't give him the knife back to do it again.

I will forget you as soon as my head lays on someone else's arms. 

I would have taken a bullet for you. It just never crossed my mind that you would be the one to shoot.

Don't be nice. Be loyal. Nice can be faked. Loyalty can not.

You got betrayed because love turned you blind.

Don't punish yourself for trusting people and getting betrayed. It's not your fault.

What is more important, that Caesar is assassinated or that he is assassinated by his intimate friends?

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to live. I hate her, yet I do not think I can exist without her.

Was it all in my head?

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

Some people are in such utter darkness that they will burn you just to see a light. 

Her only way home was to betray her friend.

I risked, and I lost, but the risk was still worth it.

Could a marriage be happy, standing on a shaky ground of adultery and a disregard for the wife’s feelings? 

When dealing with love and relationship. Hurting and betraying a great woman can lead you to a painful life of regret.

I once met a man who didn't have a heart. He told me he didn't have one.

Do not give your ears to snake they are legless to stand on their own.

Even as your body betrays you, your mind denies it.

When you care about someone, you can’t just turn that off because you learn they betrayed you.

You believed me incapable of hurting you, and yet I did.

I would rather my enemy's sword pierce my heart then my friend's dagger stab me in the back.

Do you ever wonder, do you, why I loved you for such a long time, and still didn’t really know you?

False friends, like weeds, try very hard to appear genuine.

Some scars don't hurt. Some scars are numb. Some scars rid you of the capacity to feel anything ever again.

Whoever controls the king, controls the kingdom.

A man sleeps with another woman, he is praised for it, a woman does the same, she is labeled as a whore.

Innocence like yours attracts snakes, and all they want is a piece of you.

I didn’t know that you were ashamed of me.

My past. My mistake. My regret. My love.

The easiest way to steal something is for it to be given willingly.

I don't want to fall in love with you, because you will use it against me.

Cal betrayed me, and I betrayed him. And you betrayed both of us, in a thousand different ways.

Betrayal isn't ridiculous. It's the reason empires fall.

She is an able negotiator and a strong ally.

That is for what you did to me.

Not as the faceless lover. Not even for today when you made love to me... or perhaps we should call it 'fucking', since there was nothing loving about it, only manipulation

Do you know why he did what he did to you? Because he could.

You’re my prey tonight.

You should’ve paid attention. Princesses don’t trust the dragons, they fall pray of it.

A son for a son, heh. But that's a grandson...and he never was much use.

I can love what is broken.

She is intent on pleasing the men that frighten her.

I’ve given my loyalty before. Too many times now. Always works out the same.

You’ve been moving your lips, but I’ve not heard a word.

I would betray you a thousandfold for her.

A woman should not be trusted. Specially one with such beauty and doesn’t even realize they have.

Because you needed to know that not everything was a lie.

Did he touch you like this?

Yes, but that's how he always touches me. He would n-never…

Maven is his mother's son.

I gave him so much-parts of myself I didn't even know were there.

The only betrayal I ever did was being my mother’s child.

We made a bargain. I give you over, and he agrees to let my forces enter Prythian through his territory.

Having faith in your spouse does not lead to trust, truth does.

You may not have loved me,but I loved you, and my love was never a lie.

I hope I never meet the guy that did this to you.

If there is a marriage and your husband loves you, there is no other woman. 

From his vantage point on the deck, the commoners were ants.

I will never make the mistake of loving you ever again.

Why the hell would you save that motherfucker’s life?

The only one you protected was yourself.

Yes. I did protect myself. It was about damn time I learned to do that.

Betraying someone once can be a mistake. Betraying someone twice is a choice.

My brother needs to watch where he steps while doing so. And on whom he steps.

You ended one life, but I got another in me.

You think I betrayed you.

You're nothing but a bad habit.

Can’t have love without lust.

Be careful who you follow and treat everyone who come to you as if the have an agenda towards you.

Break his crown, break his throne, rip his monarchy apart.

[everydayyoulovemeless]

I saw the teen post, but what about Arcade, Raul, Vulpes, Ulysses, and our man Joshua Grahm parenting a young (orphan) child in the wasteland?

(Also your post are sooooo good<3)

Arcade, Raul, Vulpes, Ulysses, and Joshua Parenting an Orphan Child

➼ Word Count » 1.1k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Platonic ➼ A/N » I love all these teen/child asks! They're so cute!!

Arcade isn't sure what to do when he sees you wandering Freeside alone. He'll stand off to the side and watch you for a minute, contemplating whether or not you're accompanied by someone. He doesn't want to jump in if you already have someone taking care of you, but it is a dangerous place to be in, so the worry never leaves him. Eventually, he'll go up to you to ask you a few questions. He immediately takes you to the Old Mormon Fort when you tell him you don't have any parents. At least someone will have an eye on you there. He's not the greatest with kids, especially when it comes to raising one, so you'll be brought up by all of the Followers there. They'll all pitch in here and there as you grow older. They want the best for you, so they gladly teach you all they know to help you grow into a well-rounded and intelligent individual. Of course, Arcade will still be there, and you're always welcome to go and visit his tent. He just won't be the only one watching over you. It's ironically one of the safest places to grow up in, and you'll pick up a lot of medical knowledge during your time there. The KIngs will even come by sometimes to teach you how to fight (they teach all the kids in Freeside how to throw a punch) for when you inevitably want to leave and explore the Mojave on your own. Even though you're in the slums, it's a generally comfortable way to live. And, at the very least, you'll grow up around people who genuinely care for you're well-being.

Raul sees you all by yourself in a world like this and feels an immediate obligation to take you in or, at the very least, find someone else who can. He's nervous when approaching you. He knows what he looks like, and he's not sure how someone as young as yourself will react when you see him. So, when he does walk up to you, he's careful and as non-threatening as he can manage to be. You remind him of his siblings back in Mexico. Even if he hasn't known you for long, he'll come to see you like a little sibling. It's as if life is giving him a second chance and, this time, he won't mess it up. He'd die before any harm ever came to you, and he promises to keep you as happy as possible until he finally croaks. He'll take you back to his shack, set you up in a corner, and talk to you. He'll talk 'till he feels he knows you well. Then, he'll turn the radio up and try to cheer you up by teaching you old Mexican dances. It's hard to remember the hardships you endured all alone with the corpse doing a funny jig. Raul is great at getting you to forget and is a great father figure to you. He's patient, determined, and always does his best to make you smile. You'll be in good hands with him around.

First off, if you're a girl, Vulpes isn't going to care one lick about you. He has no issue leaving a starving, homeless, orphan kid to die out in the desert. If you're a boy, he'll begrudgingly take you in and train you as a soldier for the Legion. Chances are, he's not going to be the one to raise you, and you're just going to be thrown into a training camp, but maybe if he sees enough potential (or Ceasar orders it), he'll take you under his wing. Honestly, though, you're probably better off just wandering the desert alone. There aren't many positive outcomes that being raised by the Legion will bring you.

Ulysses feels nothing but anger and pity when he sees you. Anger at the world for allowing such a young child to suffer through the destruction of the Divide and pity that you're forced to live in it. It's disappointing at best, and he takes you in immediately. You seem to be one of the only things left of his old home, and he doesn't intend to lose you with it. He'll raise you to be independent and powerful--someone that the other factions will learn to fear sooner or later in your life--but for now, he'll focus on keeping you safe. Ulysses never leaves you by yourself, and, if he does, he makes sure you're at least with the eyebots. You'll grow up in a very isolated and indoctrinating environment, where the only real source of information you get is from the radio or Ulysses himself. He cares deeply for you and brings you up as if you were his own. There's nothing in the wasteland that could ever tear him away, and he'll shield you from the horrors of the Mojave as best he can. No matter how he has to do that. He's never afraid to get his hands a little dirty, especially if it's for your sake.

Joshua is confused, to say the least. Where did you even come from? As far as he's aware, the majority of the societies that were living in Zion had been destroyed, and you're definitely not from any of the tribes. If anything, he's concerned. Concerned about where you came from and what will happen to you if he lets you continue wandering. He thanks God that he found you before anyone else did and will quickly bring you back to the Sorrows camp to have you taken care of. The natives love you and teach you as much as they can about their cultures and way of life. They raise you as if you were one of their own, teaching you how to hunt, throw a spear, start a fire, etc. When he deems you old enough, Joshua will take you out and teach you how to shoot. Making sure you know how to live is his top priority. He'll train you just as he used to train the Legionaries, just with a bit more tolerance and patience than he had before. Joshua's biggest fear is dying too soon. He's old and has given God many reasons to kill him off. He's already made arrangements for you to inherit his gun and his bible when he dies, but that doesn't mean he isn't scared. He wants to be with you as a father for as long as he can and would do anything to keep you away from the Legion or the White Legs.

[embersofhope-if]

"On the 25th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes that who would represent it."

Twenty-five years have passed since the rebellion, yet the price is still being paid by the Districts. Even though most people alive today had no part in the fight, they suffer the consequences of the Capitol's anger. The harsh reality of the Capitol's cruelty is revealed every year on July 4th, Reaping Day. On this day, two children from each of the 12 districts are randomly chosen to fight to the death in an arena until only a lone victor remains. Parents hold their children close and hope it isn't their child who will be ripped away from them, knowing that there is nothing they can do to stop it.

However, this year is different. This year marks the very first Quarter Quell, and parents don't have to worry about whether their children might be taken away because, for this once-in-a-lifetime event, they get to choose who goes into the arena. But there's no doubt in anyone's mind who's going in when the mayor has a child of his own - me.

Now it's my turn to play a true game of life or death. May the odds be ever in my favor

Demo ☆ Playlist ☆ Pinterest

Customize your appearance (hair type and color, complexion, height, build, clothing)

Choose how you interact with the Capitol and those of your District

Form new relationships and change the ones you already have

Train in the weapon of your choice yes including a bow

Try not to die<3

17+. Content warnings for graphic violence, child death, child abuse/neglect, starvation, murder

Creon Levesque ♤ The Mentor ♤ RO ♤ 19

A special friend in very special places. I met Creon when you were 12 years old at a dinner party my Uncle Keyon had brought me to in the Capitol. Maybe it was the fact that I was very obviously District or maybe it was something else entirely, but from that night forward, Creon and I have had an intense and strange relationship. And now they stand before me assuring me that with them as a mentor, everything will be alright. How they managed to get themselves as a mentor they won't tell me, but honestly, in the end, does it matter?

♤Creon is gender selectable by the player♤

Romance Route: Red flag of all red flags, forbidden love, different worlds, insta love (at least on Creons part)

Aurelius/Aurelia Weaver ♧ The District Partner ♧ RO ♧ 18

My district partner. I don't know them that well, especially after they dropped out of school at 16 to work full-time in the factories. I'm not entirely sure what I did to them to warrant the looks of pure disgust and anger they throw my way after that, but now things have changed. They asked to be the other tribute for District 8, and now standing in front of them and looking into their eyes, all I can see is a predator looking at its prey. They are going to kill me, and they're going to enjoy it.

♧ Aurel is always the opposite gender of Mc ♧

Romance Route: Enemies to Lovers, Doomed Love, potential unrequited love, perhaps unrequited but actually requited love😏

Asher "Ash" Fairchild ♡ The Childhood Bestfriend ♡ 16

Ash was the first and only real friend I've had my entire life. They were practically the embodiment of everything good in the world. Everyone loved Ash, and when they had their name called for the 23rd reaping the shock and sorrow was felt throughout the entire District. Even walking up to the stage, they moved like a petal dancing through the wind. Their memory has haunted me every day for the past two years, and now I get to experience the same terror they felt in their final moments.

♡ There will be an option to be in a relationship with Ash before their games. Ash is also gender selectable by the player ♡

Romance Route: First love, childhood friends to lovers, soulmates

Soren Vesper ◇ The Mayor ◇ 46

The mayor of District 8, and my Father. A very stern man who prefers things to be done his way. I've never seen his mask of the harsh mayor who does everything the Capitol request ever break, that is until the announcement of the Quarter Quell. The change happened so fast that it scared me. A once mighty man who didn't care about the people of his district now begging them to choose anyone but his child to go into the games. At least I get to know my Father does care for me before I die.

Tribute and Other Profiles TBA

☆This is my second IF my main one is @shadowsofthegun-if if anyone is interested in being a goofy little cowboy and i have another IF @dustandshadows-if set in the world of the shadowhunter chronicles if anyone is interested in that as well. @konosadmaru is also my main if anyone wants to follow me on there☆

[vivakitkt]

I love you, why can’t you love me?

Synopsis: You love Xiao. But he doesn't like you. What will it for him to notice you? To notice your love? Than a chance comes to put an end your feelings for him. To relieve yourself from the pain. Do you take it?

Warnings: angst/ maybe comfort, !hanahaki reader, reader is implied as adepti(immortal, etc), not proofread,

A/N: guess whos finally decided to post after 3 months... :') im back though! Decided to randomly make this!

Will make a part four with other ending!

Enjoy reading!<3333

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3(this story is pt 3)

As Xiao continued to look at your bloody body, he felt more guilty.

Was it his fault that you got hurt? The first thing he swore that would never happen to you? He couldn't believe it. He just stood there, almost lifeless, eyes blank. Staring at the ex-archon's arms where you layed.

As more chatter and gossip filled the room, a man with green hair entered the room, gesturing Zhongli into a room and flicking his hand to disperse the crowd surrounding your still body.

Xiao still hadn't move, that was until the traveler shook his shoulders.

/Xiao! You are you alright?/ the traveler spoke, tilting their head, worried that Xiao was feeling sick seeing how he hadn't moved.

/ah, ahem, nothing out of the ordinary./ Xiao replied back, clearing his throat

Right. Nothing out of the ordinary, other that the fact that you got hurt. Even while you had called out his name, he just ignored it.

He didn't deserve you. Not after this. Xiao would just make sure you were okay recovering. That's it. Then after that, he would leave you.

Y/n pov

Slowing opening your eyes, you heard a soft humming noise and people talking in the back. What had happened in the time you were unconscious?

/ah, it seems our patient is awake now./ A strange man with green hair spoke out

/I was the one who treated you while you were injured/ the man said placing a hand over his chest, taking a bow respectfully

/oh, thank you very much./ you said trying to push yourself up, but felt a throbbing pain in your ribcage

Instantly, Zhongli ran to your side, carefully holding your shoulders, placing you down gently onto the mattress.

/You should rest up for a while before standing up once again, not after that stunt you pulled off/ Zhongli said, scolding you to make sure you didn't hurt yourself more.

/Thank you Zhongli./ You lightly chuckle and smiled at the (ex)archon infront of you in

/However, there might be something you want to listen to./ As Zhongli gestured to the doctor.

Now you would be hearing of the bad news.

It seemed like you still had a couple of months before the disease took a large toil on your body. But now after your accident, you only had a couple of weeks, maybe even days left.

The news shattered your heart, you had to make the decision now. Remove the disease by surgery, forgetting about Xiao, or die. At this point isn't there a clear option?

To die. You could have a peaceful death now. Even though Xiao didn't reciprocate your feelings. You didn't need to date him to make your life better. Sure that would have been amazing, but being able to see him every day and slowing being able to see him smile, was all worth the suffering you could feel now.

/no thank you doctor, I don't think I'll be needing the surgery!/ You smiled towards the man.

/I see then, that person must be very important in your life then/ the man said as he chuckle at bit then glancing at the ground.

/I'll be on my way then/ packing his bags, the man finally left. Leaving only you and Zhongli in the room.

/Are you sure you really wish to live with this pain until you part?/ Zhongli asked you with concern

/Theres nothing more I wish to achieve in life./ You said as you slowly exhaled

/Being able to love Xiao already was the greatest choice I could have made, no matter how the result was. He made me happy/ As you sadly smiled back to the man. A couple of seconds later Zhongli replied back.

/I see then, I will support your decision./ Zhongli smiled towards you then slowly turning towards the door.

Time skip

The flowers were finally in bloom, although there weren't many, they were beautiful. Especially the qingxins around the mountains, they reminded you of someone.

However despite all good going on, the disease that ran through your blood was starting to cause heavier damages to your body. You coughed more, more flowers and blood, and you were having these head splitting headaches. But somehow it all went away when he came near you.

Even though you decide to not remove the disease contaminating your body, you didn't regret it any bit. At that moment you could have lost him. Forgetting all of the precious memories you made together.

At least you got to spend a few more days with him, so that made the inevitable death that would happen to you soon, less painful.

Usually your days would go as normally as they always would. You would go vist Xiao, Zhongli, grab lunch with him, and part your ways to go to the doctors office. However today was a bit different. You decide to head to the flower fields. Maybe cause you knew it would not be long till you parted ways with Xiao.

You took a small walk to the fields and made your way to your spot you would always go with Xiao and sat down. The flowers were beautiful this time of month and seemed to glisten and shine in the sun. But after a while, you started to feel a bit sleepy.

/Just a few minutes/ you said as your eyes started to droop down.

/just for a few minutes.../

Xiao pov

Y/n.

It seems like he always took you for granted. It was always you making the meetings, and taking charge to make sure he ate and without you, Xiao probably would have never made any friends.

Where were you? You were later then usual. You would have met him here about now.

What if something had happened? Like last time. Xiao suddenly felt the urge to go and find you. But where could you possibly be? Maybe you were with Zhongli? Right, you probably were. After all, you loved tea. He quickly teleported to Zhongli's tea spot. But when he got there, you were no where to be seen.

/Rex- Zhongli, have you seen y/n at all?/ Xiao said clearing his throat

/You haven't seen them?/ Zhongli replied, taking a sip of his tea, looking rather sorrow.

/No, I haven't./ But Xiao being quick, he caught on that something might had happened. Something he didn't know about.

/Is there something I should know about?/ Xiao said quirking his head up

/I seemed to have made a promise with them but I think they would have you wanted to know./ Zhongli said placing down his cup.

/Hanahaki./ the man spoke out.

/What? What do you mean-/

/Y/n had hanahaki./ Zhongli said closing his eyes inorder to avoid Xiao's eyes.

Xiao stood there. Silent.

/What do you mean they had hanahaki?/ Xiao said, cluching his fist staring at the ground.

/A deadly disease, a very rare one in particular although./

So you had hanahaki and didn't tell him?

Who was it? Who was the person who cause you this pain. Once Xiao knew, he would never allow that person to talk ever again.

Ah. But once this never crossed his mind. How long have you had this disease?

/Zhongli. How long has it been since y/n got hanahaki?/ Xiao stared at the ex-archon's eyes.

/Six months./ The man in front of him said

Six months. Most people who caught hanahaki only lived for four months. Four months? And you caught it six months ago? If anything...

As Xiao realized, he began to panic. Immediately he teleported away, however the archon stopped him before he could disappear.

/Before leaving Xiao, you should know that y/n had feelings for you./ Zhongli said, stirring his tea

/They could have forgotten about you with a surgery, relieving them of the pain but they chose not to/

Xiao realized his mistake he quickly teleported to a empty field leaving Zhongli by himself, reminiscenting of your memories you spent together.

With no stop, Xiao continued to search around for you until he felt a presence that felt like yours.

As he got there though, he realized he was too late. You were gone.

He walked over slowly, taking your beauty in as you layed there. Surrounded by the flowers and the sun setting behind you.

/Greetings y/n. This meeting is a bit different than usual. Isn't it?/ Xiao said as he choked back tears. Tears he held in for years.

He was too late. He was always too late. He couldn't catch you in time. He didn't come in time for your death, so much that you couldn't even tell him of your disease. And too late to recognize his feelings toward you, and your feelings.

Better late than never, as they say. Right? But why did it hurt so much?

As he sat there with your lifeless body. Limp in his arms. Xiao started to weep as he held you, to make up for the times he didn't.

/Im sorry./ He murmured

Im sorry...

[hopepetal]

for the writing prompts, pearl getting hug-bombed after double life <3

Hiii Wren

Yeah this isn't all that great but here ya go

--

PearlescentMoon joined the game.

<GoodTimeWithScar> where is she

<GoodTimeWithScar> looking through her base. she's not here

<ImpulseSV> Doesn't look like she's near boatem at all

<Xisuma> One moment, please.

<Xisuma> She's at spawn.

<Grian> Makes sense

<Grian> I'm near spawn, I'm heading over

<MumboJumbo> I'll grab some blankets and water, can someone grab potions?

<ImpulseSV> I got you

<ImpulseSV> Scar, where are you

<ImpulseSV> Scar?

<Xisuma> He's flying.

<Grian> At spawn

<Grian> I see her

<MumboJumbo> I'm heading over with Impulse, we have supplies

<GoodTimeWithScar> Don't bring golden apples

<GoodTimeWithScar> bring potions or anything else but not golden apples

<GoodTimeWithScar> Grian is she okay

<GoodTimeWithScar> well obviously not but

<Grian> She's got some pretty bad scars

<Grian> And she's not really... Here

<Grian> Mentally, I mean. She looks pretty shaken

<Xisuma> I'm coming to spawn. I'll see you all there.

--

Pearl's feet touched stone before the rest of her followed as her knees gave out. She didn't even register the familiar heaviness on her back from her wings, coming back into existence after being suppressed during the death game. Her ears still rang from the explosion, her left eye forced shut from the stinging pain seared into scars on her skin.

She had to get up. She had to– had to pull herself together, had to reorient herself or else she would die, and death meant more pain and suffering and loneliness and...

“Tilly,” Pearl heard herself cry, sounding as though she were underwater, “Tilly darling, where are you?” Her vision was too blurry for her to see far, and the complete darkness in her left eye terrified her. If she couldn't see, then she was in danger because anyone could sneak up on her and hurt her or kill her.

She was about to call out for Tilly again before she remembered.

Pearl remembered pain.

She remembered fighting.

She remembered betrayal, and killing, and blood and the screams, and she remembered dying.

Pearl... remembered dying.

Pearl thought she was crying, but she couldn't tell through the haze of blood and death and pain and victory, bitter tasting victory. She didn't even flinch away when gentle hands reached out and cleaned the blood and dirt from her face, brushed the knots from her hair, bandaged the new scars she bore from the final explosion.

She saw red at one point and flinched away, and the red was replaced with green and brown and a kind, concerned voice asking if she was okay. Pearl wanted to laugh at that. Wasn't the answer obvious? She wasn't okay. She didn't think she ever would be okay again.

She was sitting on something soft now, wrapped in blankets (when had she started shivering?) and in a room that was both familiar and strange to her. Her ears had stopped ringing but she still felt as though she was underwater, everything muffled and moving in slow motion. Something soft– bandages, maybe– covered the left side of Pearl's face, keeping her eye shut. She was still on edge about not being able to see on one side, but it was something that would heal in time.

Unlike her heart, which still beat sorrowfully in her chest, shattered into one thousand pieces. She felt... numb, numb and tired and hurt and scared.

Pearl didn't even know she had spoken until the background noise of unintelligible conversation stopped. For a moment, she was confused, before looking around at the people she thought she should know.

“Pearl?” And his voice is so startlingly familiar it pulls her back to Earth, and Pearl found herself gazing into Scar's eyes. “Pearl, are you with us?”

Somehow, Pearl found it in herself to crack a smile and attempt a joke. “Looks like I am.”

Scar blinked, and his eyes filled up with tears. “Oh, Pearl...” He threw his arms around her and hugged Pearl tightly, shoulders shaking as he started to sob. “I'm so glad you're back...”

One by one, the others in the room– they were in one of the houses closer to spawn– murmured a 'welcome home' and carefully joined the hug. Mumbo, Impulse, and Grian, who wrapped his wings around the entire group.

Pearl's throat closed up as she practically melted into her friends' arms. The gentle touch after spending so long alone practically burned, and Pearl was unable to hold back tears. She broke down sobbing, clinging to Scar.

And maybe, the hug helped to mend a piece of her heart, stitching the parts back together with threads of love.

And maybe, just maybe, it gave Pearl hope that one day, things would be okay.

[queen--kenobi]

Wheel of Fortune: Prologue

Story summary: Elayna Reyne often imagines herself being someone and making a name for herself but only in the way young girls do. Unfortunately, when Elayna makes her way to King's Landing as one of Cerelle Lannister's ladies-in-waiting, Elayna finds dreams come with a price. Catching the attention of Prince Aemond may make her someone. But is it the person she wants to be?

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x OFC (Elayna Reyne), Cerelle Lannister x OFC (Elayna Reyne), OC (Tymon Lannister) x OFC (Elayna Reyne)

Chapter summary: News finds its way to Elayna. Some of it is good but most of it is bad. Elayna learns when it rains, it pours.

Chapter warnings: implied NSFT (wlw action, BDSM themes, D/s dynamics), discussions of domestic violence, some suicidal ideation, and sexual harassment. Also Tymon. Yeah, a lot for a prologue I know.

Author's note: Hi hello it's finally here! I know it's taken 5ever and a day, but it's here! I'm so excited to introduce everyone to Elayna in canon and Tymon as well. I want to thank @writingbylee for being my cheerleader and helping me since day one with Elayna you have no idea how much that means to me. I also want to thank @baba-fett and @emilykaldwen for being willing to listen to me try and figure all this out

Waves crash against the unyielding cliffside.

Elayna sighs. She looks down to the waters below. Jagged rocks stick up from the ocean, the edges sharp and dangerous despite the weathering. Elayna tilts her head. In the dying light, the areas where the rocks cluster almost look like teeth to her, the giant gaping maw of an unknown beast.

What would it be like to die upon those rocks?

What would it be like to kill someone upon the rocks? How long would someone suffer in the blistering sun and salty air? Would they die upon impact, or would it break their back and render them immobile, unable to stop the slow creeping of the Stranger?

She bites the inside of her lip. The pain stops the morbid thoughts, she finds. More and more as of late, her brain keeps coming back to them. They circle her brain like vultures awaiting the dying. Elayna closes her eyes and inhales slowly. Some days, she cannot tell if she wishes to kill or be killed. She thinks it is the latter of the two. She has no true wish to die, only to escape her suffering. Her life has become a prison she cannot escape from no matter how much she tries.

Then again. Is it truly a prison when she has willingly given her captor the keys? When the prison is of her own making?

She exhales. She pauses and rubs her face. 

If only she could talk to Cerelle. If only she could make her see...

“Elayna!”

The familiar voice makes Elayna's hairs stand on end. Elayna wants to ignore him. Maybe he'll go away if she pretends he isn't there. Of course, it has never stopped him before, so why would it now? Slowly, Elayna lifts her head.

Tymon walks towards her. He seems to be in a good mood. A smile graces his features. The wind blows his hair gently. Elayna looks at his eyes. His eyes turn first when he's angry; he can keep the smile up and make it seem genuine even when his eyes make it clear he wants nothing more than to commit an act of unspeakable violence just by looking him in the eye. His jaw betrays him next. 

His smile is always the last thing to go. 

“Tymon.” Elayna tries her best to answer his smile. She tries to force it to reach her eyes. It feels too tight, too fake. A surge of panic overtakes her. What if he sees it's fake? Will he ignore it? Will he pretend to not see it until he can use her lack of enthusiasm against her? What if it provokes his ire? She blinks. Her eyes must show her fear, she can't have that. 

Tymon laughs. When Elayna opens her eyes, she sees him holding his hands up. 

“Woah.” He sounds as if he is calming down a spooked horse, not a human being. She can hear the clear amusement in his tone. Elayna bites down on the inside of her cheek. She cannot sneer at him; no one else is around, and she is too close to the edge of the parapet. Despite her early thoughts, Elayna has no desire to be pushed off the castle.

“I did not mean to startle you. My sincerest apologies.”

“Think nothing of it. I was just under the impression I was alone.”

“One might begin to think you want to be alone.” Tymon stops right beside her. The sleeve of his doublet almost brushes against the sleeve of her dress. Elayna's skin crawls. “I noticed you left particularly early.”

“I needed some fresh air is all.” Elayna looks out towards the sea. “I spoke with Jeyne Marbrand. The incense they use in their Sept must be quite... strong.”

Elayna sniffs delicately as if to prove her point. Tymon lets out a small chuckle. He places his forearms on the low wall. 

“Yes, I have noticed that as well.” Tymon turns his head to the side. His green eyes inspect her. “Where is Cerelle? I thought if I found you, I might find her.”

Elayna swallows.

“Cerelle is talking with one of the Tarbeck daughters, I believe.” Gods above, she hates she knows this. “There's talk of one of them being brought in as one of Tyshara's ladies.”

Tymon hums. He looks back out to the ocean once more. He inches his forearm towards her. Elayna tries to subtly move her arm away. She reaches up and adjusts her necklace before placing her arm down. 

“Mother spoke to me today.” 

“Oh?” Elayna arches an eyebrow. “What did the two of you speak about?”

“Many things.” Tymon fidgets with one of the many rings on his fingers. “Mostly of the future.”

Elayna nods. Within a fortnight, Cerelle and Tymon would be celebrating their eight and tenth name day. The feast tonight kicks off the events to follow. The future looms large over everything now; all the politics and planning finally moving into action. A bitter, acrid taste surges into Elayna’s mouth. For all that Johanna cares about Cerelle, she will also use her, as is the way. A son ensures the line while a daughter ensures treaties and potential comfort in old age. 

She knows what will most likely become of Cerelle, but she has no idea what awaits her. For years, she and Cerelle would joke about having to find two brothers to marry. Naturally, Cerelle would marry the eldest and Elayna the younger. Elayna presses her lips together. She gazes at the far away horizon, feeling as if she herself is as much of a distance away from her own body as the horizon. Those plans... Well. They were no more.

She hears shifting, the rustle of clothes against the stone wall. Elayna forces herself back into her body. She turns her head. Tymon now stands with his back to the wall, facing away from the sea and into the courtyard. He crosses his arms.

“The plan is for you to accompany Cerelle to King's Landing when we leave.” 

“I'm aware.” Elayna tries to keep her tone pleasant. “I'm looking forward to it.”

Tymon turns his head to look at her. He evaluates her for a long moment. 

“Did you hear that from my mother or sister?”

“Cerelle told me. Why?”

Tymon smirks. “Then you don't know the good news yet.”

“Good news?” Elayna huffs a laugh. “Let me guess. Your father found an uninhabited island and named it after Cerelle?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“You're right, that is ridiculous. He named it after Tyshara.”

Tymon rolls his eyes. “I am the first born son.”

“Yes, but I've been under the impression islands are she's. On account of them being pretty to look at.” Elayna sees a brief flash of irritation on Tymon's face. “So the good news is not an island.”

“No, it isn't an island. That would be excellent news, but this is better.”

“Better than an island? Hmm. Dalton Greyjoy dying. Ideally a slow and incredibly painful death.”

“Alas. One can only wish.”

“Cerelle is betrothed to a Hightower? Is that it?”

Tymon scoffs. Elayna bites the inside of her lip to keep from giggling. As dangerous as it can be, she does enjoy annoying Tymon. He thinks himself to be so smart, to the point he corrects anyone he deems lower than himself. Yet, somehow, he falls into every single conversational trap she creates. It's almost as if he can't help it; he has to try to make someone else look like an idiot, even at the expense of making a fool of himself. 

The apple never falls far from the tree.

“No. It is not Cerelle marrying a Hightower.” Tymon sniffs almost delicately. Annoyance laces every word. Elayna has no doubt in her mind if she pushes more, she will push too far. Normally, she might relish in the chance to pick a fight. Instead, she decides to play nice. “I'm sure mother has higher ambitions for her.”

“What is the good news, then?”

Tymon looks at Elayna. His gaze feels intense. Elayna looks back at him. 

“Once Cerelle is settled and has found a husband, mother suggested you might come back. With us.”

Elayna's heart doesn't just sink; it plummets. It drops from her chest to her stomach the same way a boulder falls from a cliff. 

“I'm... I'm afraid I don't follow.”

“Don't play dumb with me, Elayna.” Tymon smiles, and for the first time, his smile itself scares her. “Isn't this what you wanted? I would think so, given all the times you have tormented and teased me. Finally, Mother has come to her senses about everything as well.”

“Tymon, I genuinely do not know what you're talking about.”

Tymon sighs. It's one of the most patronizing sounds Elayna has heard. It makes her skin crawl and jaw tighten.

“Mother wants to ensure you and Cerelle have ample time together before Cerelle is married. Once Cerelle is settled, our betrothal will be made official and announced.”

Elayna instantly regrets not jumping off the castle and onto the rocks below. A sour, bitter taste floods her mouth. She stares at him. 

“We're...?”

“To be married. Do keep up, Elayna. I cannot have a wife who is slow on the upkeep.”

Elayna's years of practice prevent her from snarling at him. Her upper lip still twitches. Her jaw clenches. She glares daggers at him. 

“I'm not slow!” She pauses. Tymon gives her a look as if he might hit her should she say more. “I am merely... surprised. I wouldn't have thought I would have been a contender.”

“I thought my fondness for you was evident.” Tymon tilts his head. He almost seems genuinely confused as to why Elayna doesn't understand. “ ‘Tis a good match.”

“Surely there are better matches. One of the Lefford's daughters per-”

Elayna's next words are muffled. Tymon surges forward and kisses her. The beginnings of his beard feel rough and unpleasant against her skin, as do his lips. He takes advantage of her parted lips to try and slip his tongue into her mouth. It feels wet and gross against hers, almost slimy. An unpleasant shiver runs up her spine. Elayna clamps her teeth down on his tongue. She means it as a warning bite.

It works.

Tymon pulls away, fury blazing in his eyes. His smile drops.

“Tymon. I don't... this isn't appropriate!” Elayna hisses. “Nothing has even been announced or made official, you cannot just kiss me like that.”

“I don't care.”

“Well I do. Your reputation may not be at stake but mine is.”

Tymon stares at her, his expression unreadable. Elayna's chest heaves. 

“Why would your reputation be ruined? Everyone knows you are mine and mine alone.” He reaches forward and attempts to touch her face. Elayna jerks backwards and away from him. 

“Tymon.” 

Both Elayna and Tymon turn towards the sound of the voice. Tymon scowls. Cerelle stands on the parapet as well. She looks radiant, the setting sun lighting her in beautiful hues. Cerelle has her father's hair and eyes but everything else about her comes from her mother, down to the cold expression she wears.

“Cerelle.” Tymon greets. His tone matches the coolness of Cerelle's face. “I was wondering where you were.”

“So you thought to seek Elayna out?” She steps forward. Tymon’s upper lip twitches, but he manages to wrangle it under control at the last second. Elayna takes the welcome distraction and begins to put some distance between herself and Tymon.

“Yes, well. The two of you are close.”

He makes it sound almost disgusting. Elayna glares at him. Still, she doesn't say anything, not wishing to draw his attention to her. Cerelle tilts her head. A perfectly curled ringlet of blonde hair falls into her face. 

“Elayna is not my keeper.” She sounds as if she wants to laugh.

“No, but you are Elayna's.” 

Cerelle raises an eyebrow. “Speak plainly. If you have an issue with my relationship with my ladies-in-waiting, say so and be done with it."

Tymon lifts both his hands in the air. He chuckles softly, a sly smirk making its way onto his face. 

“I meant no offense, dearest sister.” He lowers his hands. 

“I take offense to your actions, not your words.” Cerelle steps forward. Her gait remains surprisingly steady. Elayna knows, though. She sees the barely repressed anger and tense jaw, the way Cerelle clenches both her hands into fists for the briefest of seconds before clasping her hands in front of her, the flare of Cerelle's nostrils as she nearly stalks towards her brother. 

“My actions?”

“Yes. Your actions. Mother has made it explicitly clear you are not to be alone with Elayna. Yet you openly defy her and seek out Elayna when I am busy.”

Tymon swallows. Elayna sees his Adam's apple bob. She takes advantage of his surprise and almost scurries over to Cerelle. Cerelle seemingly doesn't react to her presence.

Tymon stares at his sister for a long moment. Cerelle stares evenly back at him, her steely gaze not dissimilar to Johanna’s. Tymon must make some sort of expression because after a long minute, Cerelle's brow furrows. She raises one eyebrow. The left side of her mouth lifts slightly, not quite into a sneer but certainly a scoff. Annoyance rolls off of Tymon. His hands clench into fists for a second before he thinks better of it.

“Very well.” Tymon tries to sound pleasant, as if he's truly deferring to his sister. The blazing storm in his eyes says otherwise. He bows his head. “I shall do as instructed. Do try to not hog all of my future wife's time.”

He turns on his heel and heads towards the other set of stairs. Elayna watches him from her place behind Cerelle. She waits until he disappears from sight to speak.

“Thank you.” Elayna murmurs. She tries to effuse her gratitude into every word. Cerelle tries to keep her steady gaze. Despite her efforts, her expression softens, the hard edges of her jaw easing and forehead relaxing. 

“I cannot rescue you all the time.”

“I know. I don't expect you too.”

Elayna steps forward. Cerelle does as well. 

“Mother wants to see us as well. After she talks to Tymon.”

Cerelle stands torn. Elayna sees it clear as day. Cerelle refuses to close the distance, but with each passing moment, her posture relaxes some. 

Elayna moves first. She steps closer to Cerelle, stopping two paces away. 

“I'm still mad at you.” Cerelle looks away as she speaks.

“I know. I made a mess of things.”

“I'm not going to forgive you easily.”

Elayna steps closer. She could reach out and touch Cerelle if she wants to but opts not to do so.

“How would you like me to apologize?” Elayna looks around for a second. The two of them are alone. “I've been told I have a silvertongue when it comes to apologies.”

Cerelle's stern exterior fully breaks. She blushes. Red rises from her neck to her cheeks.

“Elayna!” She hisses. “Not here.”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of doing that here.”

Cerelle finally closes the distance between them. She reaches out and loops her arm through Elayna's. 

“We should get back to the feast.” Cerelle lightly traces a finger down Elayna's forearm. “If we don't, they'll come looking.”

“Whatever my Lady desires.”

The look on Cerelle's face sends a pleasant tingle along Elayna's spine. Cerelle hums. Elayna bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling victorious. Cerelle's expression no doubt means a delightful night lies ahead of them, one Elayna imagines many women only dream of happening to them. Her own eight and ten name day is still several moons away yet many ladies have taken to giving her womanly advice. She cannot bite or scratch for too much passion may scare her husband, and it is unseemly to mark him with her nails and teeth. He may mark her as he wishes, though. His pleasure must occur; some women say she can experience it while others say she must not. Do not get on top for he will get sick since to do so is an abomination and sin. He must never look at her nether region except for when he slides into her.

All the rules make her want to laugh. While she cannot say she has experience with men beyond a kiss, she doubts the rules. If they are true, men have weak constitutions.

Cerelle never complains about her being on top or whose pleasure comes before the others. Cerelle never cares if Elayna’s mouth finds its way to Cerelle's lips or clit. Truth be told, she seems to enjoy the act quite a lot. Cerelle does prefer Elayna not mark her; Elayna has no qualms about being marked so long as it isn't visible. 

Despite her gender, Elayna finds herself performing more husbandly duties than most men. The only rule existing between them is they must not break their maidenheads. It is the only thing their husbands may have before them. 

Elayna's greed knows no bounds; everything a husband could take is hers except for that one thing. The same goes for Cerelle. She owns everything except Elayna's maidenhead. Elayna can only dream of that happening.

“Perhaps I will need you tonight. I would like to spend time with my boon companion.”

“I am always at your service.”

They begin to walk towards the stairs. Cerelle's grip keeps Elayna close, as if she thinks Elayna would go far. Elayna would never. If she could, Elayna would chain herself to Cerelle. She would put a collar around her neck like a hound and hand Cerelle the lead. She wonders if it would surprise Cerelle but doubts it would; Elayna often kneels at Cerelle's feet and whines like a bitch in heat.

“Behave.” Cerelle squeezes Elayna's arm. Elayna starts. She gazes at Cerelle with wide eyes. 

 “I am!”

“Physically? Yes. Mentally?” Cerelle clicks her tongue. 

“Oh?” Elayna arches an eyebrow. “And where exactly did you learn to read minds?”

“I didn't. I just know yours well.” 

The two of them finally enter the turret. Elayna listens in case someone is coming up the stairs. She sees and hears no one. Before Cerelle can lead them down the stairs, Elayna maneuvers them towards the wall. As soon as Cerelle's back is against the stones, Elayna pounces.

Cerelle's lips slot against hers perfectly. Cerelle squeaks in surprise, which makes Elayna grin into the kiss. Cerelle quickly recovers. Elayna groans when Cerelle digs her fingers into Elayna’s hair. She avoids Elayna's intricate braids, instead opting for the thick, brown curly hair at the base of Elayna’s skull. Those strands of hair being messy can be explained away; her braids falling out of place can't be. Elayna braces herself. She places one forearm on the wall by Cerelle's head. Her other hand rests on the bodice of Cerelle's gown. She wants nothing more than to ruck up Cerelle's skirts and trace the creamy expanse of skin she knows lies under the red silk. Caution makes her stop. Fabrics wrinkle all too easily. 

Still, Elayna can only be cautious for so long. She inches her hand upward, fingers grazing the underside of Cerelle's breasts. The motion makes Cerelle stop. She digs her fingers hard into Elayna’s hair, her nails nearly digging into Elayna’s scalp. She pulls Elayna's head back. Elayna isn't sure if the sound escaping her mouth is from pleasure or pain. 

“No.” Cerelle's chest heaves. She doesn't look angry, despite her tone. “You aren't forgiven yet.”

Elayna pouts. 

“How am I to be forgiven if you won't give me a chance?”

“You have to earn forgiveness. Me giving you what you want will only reinforce your terrible behavior.” 

“You speak of me as a dog.” 

“Perhaps if you behaved, I wouldn't have to treat you like one.”

“I am not a dog.” Elayna huffs. Cerelle arches a perfect eyebrow. She lets go of Elayna’s hair.

“Oh? What are you then?”

“Is not a dog not enough?”

Cerelle snorts. Despite her derision, Elayna sees the fondness in Cerelle's expression.

“No. You are not a dog. They can be taught manners.” Cerelle hums. A devious smirk appears on her lips. “You're a kitten. You refuse to listen and learn, you act as if you're above the rules, and you believe if you want it, it is yours. However, you don't have the claws nor teeth to back your attitude up.”

Elayna stares at Cerelle, wide eyed. She opens her mouth in an attempt to respond, but no sound comes out. She feels hot, not just her face but her entire body. Her breath comes in short bursts. 

“I...”

“Yes?” Cerelle tilts her head. “You what?”

“You... you...”

“Is my kitten having trouble finding her words?” Cerelle grabs Elayna's chin and forces Elayna to look at her. “Answer me.”

“You're so... so mean.” Elayna whines. She tries to bury her face in the crook of Cerelle's neck to hide her embarrassment. Cerelle's grip on her chin prevents her from doing so. Cerelle clicks her tongue in mock sympathy, a direct contrast to the delight dancing in her blue eyes.

“Behave tonight, and I might just let you find out how mean I can really be.”

She lets go of Elayna’s chin. Her blue eyes meet Elayna’s hazel ones. Cerelle seeks reassurance, from the way she looks over Elayna to make sure what transpired is truly alright to the way she frowns when she sees the small red indentations from her nails on Elayna’s chin. Elayna smiles. She presses her forehead to Cerelle's. Both of them close their eyes. They stay still for a moment, breath falling into line with the other's.

“You promise?”

Elayna opens her eyes and grins. Cerelle's eyes fly open. She stares coolly at Elayna. Elayna tries her best not to laugh. 

“I would be careful if I were you.”

“But what if I want you to make me regret it?”

“Then you cannot complain later.”

The sound of footsteps makes both girls back away from each other. Cerelle smooths out the wrinkles in her dress with one hand while Elayna checks her hair. None of her braids appear to be loose. She tucks the small amount of hair Cerelle accidentally removed from the carefully done hairstyle and stuffs the ends as best she can into her braids and held up hair. The two look at each other. Elayna scans Cerelle and nods. Cerelle does the same for Elayna.

“Shall we join the others?” Elayna offers her arm to Cerelle.

“I think it best.”

In the whirlwind of the feast, Elayna forgets about having to speak with Johanna. She spends most of the night dancing and laughing. No one yet knows of her creeping fate; Elayna takes advantage of this fact. Truth be told, she refuses to imagine what her future looks like. Instead, she decides to enjoy the moment. 

The moment includes Elayna staying with Cerelle as the first night of festivities begin to wind down. They don't even bother to come up with an excuse if they're questioned; it's happened a million times before after a feast and will no doubt happen again. Everyone knows the two are inseparable. 

“Elayna.” Cerelle murmurs from the dark. They lay in bed together, Cerelle pressing up against Elayna from behind. One of her arms lightly rests over Elayna's hips.

“Yes?” 

“You have yet to make good on your promise and apologize to me. Properly.”

Elayna hums. She rolls over to face Cerelle. They both wait for a second.

“I suppose I can.”

*****************

“I don't want to marry Tymon.”

Elayna knows not the hour. She assumes early since the darkness seems almost oppressive. Elayna rests her head just underneath Cerelle's bare breasts. Cerelle sits mostly upright, lounging on some pillows. One of her hands rests on Elayna’s head, fingers gently intertwining into Elayna’s dark curls. 

“You must.” Cerelle gently scratches Elayna's scalp in a comforting gesture. A tinge of sadness colors Cerelle's tone, though. Elayna buries her face into Cerelle's soft curves. She takes a moment to find her words, tasting each one on her tongue. 

“He scares me, Cerelle. He scares me so much. I... I worry he means to harm me.”

Cerelle sighs. The bed creaks. Cerelle brings one hand down and places her fingers underneath Elayna's chin. She tilts Elayna's head up so she can look at her. 

“He would harm you if you were betrothed to another.” Cerelle speaks bluntly. She never minces words when it comes to important things. “I hope Mother and Father realize this. Perhaps this is their way of mitigating damage. If you don't marry, violence is inevitable. If you do marry, mayhaps it will be... limited.” 

“I doubt it.” Elayna frowns. She looks away into the darkness. Cerelle gives her that luxury. “He doesn't love me. He doesn't even like me. He just sees me as an object to own.”

“Most men see their wives like that.”

“I know that! But... I sometimes...”

“You sometimes what?” Impatience bleeds into Cerelle's tone. 

“It feels as if he sees me as little more than a broodmare for prized horses.” 

Cerelle doesn't say anything. She neither confirms nor denies Elayna's accusations. Instead, she takes a strand of Elayna’s hair between her fingers and gently plays with it. Elayna lowers her head. She shuffles up the bed some, intent on placing her head on Cerelle's chest to hear her heart beat.

“I can't save you all the time.”

“I'm not asking that of you.” Elayna huffs. “I can rescue myself if need be. I'm just... I'm frightened, Cerelle.” 

Elayna's whole body trembles. Cerelle shushes her. She places her hand back on Elayna’s head. Elayna tries to relax into Cerelle's embrace; her body refuses to obey her commands. Every part of her tenses. Cerelle sighs. The sheets shift, a whisper of silk, as Cerelle reaches down with her free hand and takes Elayna's hand in her own. 

Elayna waits for Cerelle to say something, anything. She waits for words of comfort. Cerelle stays silent for an uncomfortably long time. Eventually, Cerelle sits up some and presses a kiss to the top of Elayna’s head. 

“Go to sleep, Elayna. We can talk about these matters in the morning.”

****************

Johanna calls for them after breakfast.

Thankfully, the two of them were already decent. Three years of practice means their timing is down to an art. No one ever expresses any suspicion.

“Cerelle. Elayna.” Johanna looks between the two of them. The pair sit opposite Johanna. Elayna’s back stands ramrod straight while Cerelle almost leans back in her chair. “ ‘Tis time to begin looking at the future. The Lord Lannister and I have discussed this, and we have come up with a plan.”

Elayna and Cerelle exchange a look. Elayna raises an eyebrow to which Cerelle blinks. Johanna watches them.

“One of Princess Helaena's ladies-in-waiting injured herself badly, to the point she must retire and go back to her family. Truly a shame what happened to her. Rumors are she is now a cripple. Despite how unfortunate this is, a princess should never be without.” Johanna meets Cerelle's eyes. “I have arranged for you to be one of Princess Helaena's ladies-in-waiting. She needs someone more confident than she, and I know you will serve her faithfully. Elayna, of course, will follow as one of your ladies.”

“We're going to King's Landing?” Cerelle grins. She looks to Elayna, eyes glittering with hope. Elayna grins softly in return.

“Yes.” Johanna nods. “Even though you are one of the Princess's ladies, I do expect you to spend time with your uncle. He will be able to provide valuable instruction. Your father would have sent you earlier, but now I believe you will be able to fully grasp any advice given to you.” Johanna turns her attention to Elayna. Elayna almost wants to shrink back. “You, of course, will ensure Cerelle's comfort and safety. I also think it would behoove you to accompany her when she visits with Tyland. You may learn things as well.”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Johanna places her hands in her lap. “Cerelle. You're dismissed. I wish Elayna to sit with me a while.”

Cerelle and Elayna exchange looks. Elayna doesn't move, even as Cerelle does. 

“Mother.”

“Cerelle.”

Cerelle takes her leave then. Elayna adjusts her position in her chair. 

“Tymon spoke with me.” Elayna watches Johanna. Before she takes a sip, Johanna indicates with a gesture for Elayna to be poured a goblet.

“Did he?”

“He said you spoke to him about a betrothal. Of him and me.” Elayna tries her best not to pout or look too sullen. 

“Your father will accompany us when we go to King's Landing. Jason or I will suggest the idea then.”

Elayna frowns. She leans back in her seat. Johanna sets her goblet down. 

“Elinor. If you would leave us.”

The servant curtsies before leaving. Elayna waits to hear the soft close of the doorway to the servant's quarters. Johanna eyes Elayna. Her hands rest in her lap. 

“Do you not wish to marry Tymon?” 

“ ‘Tis not that! I'm just... I don't mean to question you, but I do not see how I am the appropriate choice.”

“Tymon will need someone who can reign him in once he is in charge. Someone practical who knows the ins and outs of this place.” Johanna takes a drink from her goblet. Elayna tries not to fidget and keep her hands still. “Even if he were not set on you, you are the best choice. Whether you recognize it or not, you are everything but a Lannister in name. ‘Tis time that changes.”

Elayna purses her lips. She bites down on her tongue to keep herself from saying the immediate thought in her mind. Truthfully, she does not want this marriage; she wants no marriage as of now. It is inevitable, she knows. Elayna is acutely aware of this fact. It doesn't ease her mind on the topic. 

Johanna stares Elayna down once more. Eventually, she places her goblet down with a sigh.

“ ‘Tis time for you to grow up.” Elayna nearly flinches at Johanna’s steely tone. “I know of you and my daughter. I have... indulged you both and kept your secret, but it cannot go on any longer. You both have your duties. I will not let our reputation be tarnished because you refuse to give up antics more suited to young girls. Indiscretions like this do not go on for several years nor do they go as far as it has. The time for that is over.” 

Elayna trembles. Fear courses through her body.

“I understand, my Lady. Forgive me.”

“I keep this quiet not for you but for Cerelle.” Johanna’s nostrils flare. “I do not agree with what the two of you have done in the slightest. I recognize the impulse, but it cannot continue.”

Elayna dips her head. She feels frozen, stuck to her chair even though she wants nothing more than to run. Johanna clearly sees it. She leans forward and places a hand on Elayna’s knee.

“If you were a man, it would be done. Cerelle deserves a loyal husband. I meant it when I said you were one of us.” Johanna’s voice softens for the briefest of moments. When she pushes back to her full height, the harshness returns. “But you are not a man. It can't continue.”

“It can't. It won't continue.” The words taste bitter. 

Johanna leans back in her seat. She picks up her goblet again. 

“Good. To prove your commitment and to show you keep your word, you have a task. You are to target Prince Aemond. Find out what he likes, what he dislikes. Learn everything you can about him. Then, you will feed this information to Cerelle. I can't ask for a betrothal outright. The future is too uncertain. I can, however, obtain it other ways. When you come back, you will be betrothed to Tymon and marry him.”

Elayna nods.

“Are we in agreement?”

“Yes.”

“Look me in the eyes when you say it.”

Elayna blinks back tears. She clears her throat and poorly suppresses a sniffle. She inhales. 

Lifting her head is the hardest thing she's ever done. 

“We are in agreement.”

Johanna smiles. It doesn't meet her eyes; it's a socially expected smile. Her lips stay too close together, and her eyes blaze.

“Excellent. You are dismissed.”

[charmikarma]

hallo it's me. (crookedgrifter) I'm back and I want your davejade / davejadekat thoughts. gimme

my thoughts huh ... i sure am a rambler so you're gonna get a whole essay on this

i guess in thinking abt davejadekat it always starts with jade. which is well enough because davekat has been talked to death at this point, hasn't it? i don't think i could tell you anything new or interesting about that dynamic at this point.

ANYWAY. jade. i kind of get into this in my polar express fic which ik you've read, but she is SO lonely. what the fuck are you supposed to do for ~10 years alone on an island with just a dog?? a dog who could take you somewhere else, somewhere with people, but he won't. and maybe jade knows why because of her dreams on prospit, but also maybe not! either way i think she puts a lot of faith in her dreams. it's kind of the only hope she has for the future.

i think she also has some hope in dave, this really cool dude she has this awkward internet middle school crush on. and dave is super cool to her too! i think it's implied he furry roleplays with her even?? cutest shit ever. i think this is the thing that has made me always love davejade ... they are just. so sweet to each other. dave clearly cares SO much about her.

the other thing about jade is... she's kinda fucked over repeatedly by the narrative, isn't she? she's the last beta kid introduced, so she has a lot less time to develop. the closest she really gets to developing is being really pissed off at karkat after her dreamself dies (i'll talk about this in a sec). her arc basically ends at cascade. her character arc ends in the dead middle of the comic, in a flash animation that contains exactly 0 character development. hussie says so himself in the author's notes. (don't even get me started on the author's notes jesus christ.) everything that happens on the boat is pretty much irrelevant, because it gets retconned out. instead she spends 3 years completely fucking alone, and we like... barely unpack this in canon.

so her life story up until this point is basically: raised by grandpa till ~3-5ish > living on her own till 13 > meeting dave briefly in the game > DAVE FUCKING DIES IN FRONT OF HER, WITH HER OWN BULLETS > she meets john briefly > JOHN AND DAVESPRITE FUCKING DIE > she spends 3 years alone with no solace except "yeah they had to die but you'll see them again in the new session" from alt!calliope and i guess a bunch of sprites and consorts and chess dudes. she says it herself: as nice as it is to have these folks around, they're not able to relate to her. they're not fellow thirteen year old kids. she may not be technically alone, but she is essentially alone, and she just 1. died twice in one day and 2. witnessed the deaths of several of her friends.

more on being fucked over by the narrative - jade actually has a kind of interesting dynamic with karkat in the middle of a5a2! what happens with this dynamic later on? fucking nothing!!!! like seriously i am so interested in this whole. self-hatred parallel that gets drawn between them and then how jade puts her foot down and is like you are fucking nuts. no more yelling at yourself. and it goes nowhere!! this dynamic exists for like, maybe 1% of the comic. it's really fucking sad honestly. even at the very end of homestuck, she has to be sidelined for being too powerful, thereby excluding her from all the endgame convos. like we cannot win with her

ok anyway, here's where i get into the stuff i think is really interesting. at the end of homestuck, alt!calliope tells jade that she's suffered enough, and that it's time for her to live her life how she wants to. we don't see how this plays out in homestuck proper, BUT...... the epilogues. sighs heavily.

i may be an epilogues lover but even i have to admit that jade's portrayal is.... a mess. i don't think it's wildly out of character, exactly, but it definitely toes the line... and it's definitely extremely fucking uncomfortable. it does, however, give me some insight into how i think about jade now, because while the minutiae don't really feel in character, i do think the broad strokes of what they were going for make sense.

jade took alt!calliope's words and said, fuck it. i will take charge! i won't wait anymore! i am going to have what i want. and she does get a lot of that! she gets to hang out with her friends, hang out with her brother, meet a ton of people, have a bunch of sex (presumably when she's older), and so on. but see... doing a lot of things doesn't really fill the emptiness she feels. she has so much love to give and not enough outlet for it. she needs all the love in the world and has nobody to give it to her. and she still has this big fat ten-year-old crush on dave strider that never went anywhere. but the approach she takes to life now is just... so incompatible with what dave needs. same for karkat. they both need a LOT of patience to come out of their shells, and jade is living life in the fast lane. the more she pushes, the more withdrawn they become. it is a disaster.

i want to fix it so fucking bad.

jade needs a lot of character development for all this to work, but the dynamic is absolutely there. some of their convos in early meat are so fucking funny dude, they are such good friends. it is absolutely not for lack of caring on either dave or karkat's part that things don't work out in the epilogues. it's this disconnect between what jade thinks is helpful and what dave and karkat need. i really want jade to find the balance between living at breakneck speed and waiting ten years for something to happen. i want her to feel loved for once in her damn life. and i want dave and karkat to stop being such depressing shut-ins. please guys you could balance each other out if you would just figure out how to communicate

anyway. there's your essay. it's mostly about jade. hope that's ok. i love jade harley so much my ultimate goal is to see her happy and mark my words i will figure out how

[clambrulee]

Ok but one of the things that people miss is that Rika is basically the reincarnation of Hanyuu's actual daughter. And that makes her a bit more nuanced than what some people take away from her character. It's always "Hanyuu is selfish and only kept Rika in the loops because she was lonely." I know it's outright stated at some point. But I feel like that's a very surface-level take, if you can't get anything else from their relationship.

Of course she'll be sad when Rika's gone. They've been physically and emotionally connected since she was a baby. She basically raised her. She knows her better than her real parents. They're literally inseparable. Not to mention, Rika is the spitting image of her real daughter. It's literally her chance to start over as a mother, without the guilt of the burden she placed on Ouka.

And although Hanyuu loves Rika, it's only natural that after being together for so long, she would be terrified of going back to being a single entity. Their existences have been intertwined for so long that the thought of being apart-of being independent- is terrifying.

And I'd go so far as to say that Rika feels the same. Hanyuu does get on her nerves, but she's relied on her for so long that the thought of losing her isn't even something that crosses her mind. Because Hanyuu has always been there. She'll always be there. Hanyuu is the only person who understands her grief on a personal level. She's the only person she's shared her pain with for all those years.

Rika is Hanyuu's daughter. Hanyuu took on the burden of raising a child who wasn't her own and in doing so ended up in the position of a mother who would do anything to ensure her daughter lives a happy life. Especially after she loses the ability to send Rika back far enough to even attempt to save her parents. At that point it isn't just a desire to protect Rika, but a responsibility. The responsibility she must bear for selfishly touching the world of man and choosing to adopt a child who wasn't hers to begin with.

Sure, she places the burden of having to live through endless suffering on Rika. But at the end of the day she only wants Rika to live. She wants to see her reach her happy ending. Being lonely is just an excuse, so she doesn't have to divulge into the deep-rooted guilt she associates with her powers. Her powers are what got Rika into this mess. They're the reason Rika will never eat dinner with her family again. The reason Rika began to reject her real mother and sabotage any semblance of a good relationship she had with her. And even if Hanyuu isn't the direct cause for that, she probably still blames herself for it, as someone who meant to keep Rika safe.

She can't let Rika go until she knows for sure that she'll be fine without her. Even if she doesn't really believe it will ever happen. She needs an excuse to hold on. Because the thought of letting Rika die for real without doing everything she can to prevent it is too much to bear. Maybe Rika resents her for it. But Hanyuu is fine with that. So long as her daughter survives.

One thing I can't wrap my head around is that, if Hanyuu really truly didn't want Rika to be free, then why did she decide to put her feelings aside and fight with her in the final hour anyway? Why did she decide they'd succeed and attain happiness together when she could have easily kept Rika trapped forever and prevented her from ever accessing the final fragment? And then she leaves after Saikoroshi/Sotsu/Meguri anyway once she believes it's time for Rika to be independent. She lets go willingly despite the uncertainty, because she thinks that's what's best for Rika's development and she wants her to be able to move forward and live the normal life that was robbed from her so long. So sorry. but I can't see Hanyuu as just some irredeemable bitch who only wants Rika to suffer.

I get making the Umineko connections with Featherine and trying to come up with an explanation for how everything ties together between the connected universes is fun but this one just doesn't sit right with me.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Idek remember what number I'm at.

Blade x fem! Reader

Minors and blank blogs dni.

Blog constants dark content.

Warnings: angst (ig???), toxic relationship, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, outdoor sex.

Written at 4am on mobile, this is my most unsteady work yet.

In which blade accepts the fact that you ruined him.

==

One of you will die before the other.

That's the reality Blade has to face. Because one day, one of you will pass. Be it by homicide, suicide, old age, one of you will die before the other. And with the number of death flags he has, it'll most likely be him. The funeral he was promised will arrive soon.

And he never told you about it.

Blade wants to play pretend just a bit longer, your head resting on his shoulder. Little snores here and there, a twitch of your eyes before they relax again. Peaceful. Everything about this is peaceful, from the silence on the subway to your floral scent.

But it won't last.

None of it will, for you will one day come to realize just who he is exactly. You walk on eggshells around him, yet crave for his attention. His touch, his voice, his smell; you want all of it. And he wants all of you.

But this isn't a love story, and he wishes to avoid making it into a tragic tale. But from earlier today, with his fingers inside of you, making you see stars, it's too late for that.

Just earlier he had you backed against a dirty brick wall. Scissoring you open, mouth hot against yours, groaning into you with every thrust of his hips, your legs wrapped around his waist. It wasn't the first time nor would it be the last, taking you right after a date, jealousy clawing at his back like your nails as you tried to find some grounding.

Green wasn't a good color on him.

But it was either that or red, and he'd like to keep this going. Loving you, hating you, he wants to strangle you. To hold you gently, pretend that he isn't a weapon, ignoring the voice that tells him to gut you open like a fish.

He can still feel your fingers tugging at his hair. Lips against his in a slow and gentle kiss, so unlike the harsh thrusts that left you breathless. There's bruises on your hips from his grip, cunt fluttering and gaping as his cum leaked out. Your eyes were dazed, saliva strip connecting from your tongue to his. It was beautiful.

You were beautiful.

So beautifully fragile, he could easily snap your neck. His fingers move a stray hair from your face. The subway was mostly empty at this time of night, and your date went fine. Just, fine.

He'd rather you don't have any at all.

If he was a normal man, he could take you out on dates without the authorities on his ass. He could snuggle with you without resisting the urge to choke you. To love you properly, normally, no bloodlust in the air every time he looks at you.

He could put a pretty ring on your left ring finger. Would it be a small wedding? Would you even accept his proposal? A year isn't too short, is it? Or maybe you'd rather wait for a bit longer.

Surely, you wouldn't bring up the idea of kids, right? Even back then, when he was not blade but was...

... He shouldn't be thinking of such things. It doesn't make a difference, not when the past had already happened. Maybe he'd be dead by now. Never having the pleasurable pain of meeting you. But he wouldn't suffer if he was dead by now, he would be at peace, he thinks.

His stomach churns.

Loving you ruined him.

Violence was part of his everyday life, he was used to it, and he liked it. Maybe not back then, but now, the current one lives off of it. Or so he thought, until you came into the picture, bright smile making him imagine a simple life with you.

One without death, suffering, pretending that he wasn't immortal.

But it gets worse, at times. Usually, actually, images of you choking on your own blood a delightful thought. He wants to ruin you, make you cry, beg and sob.

He wants to love you. But as 'Blade,' the person he is now, he's just going to hurt you in the end. He's too selfish, awful to let go when he knows he should. Maybe it's because it's the first time in forever where he genuinely feels some solace.

So, for now, his head rests against yours despite the discomfort, taking in your scent. He's willing to play pretend for another day, if it meant seeing and holding you.

Hopefully in the end, he'll die before he could do anything drastic.