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SORRY FOR BEING DEAD look at my sillies I finally made refs for them :3

also heads up im @the-cs-oc-archives I CANNOT FOLLOW U FROM THERE!! also also READ MY FIC RED THREADS PRETTY PLEASE chapter 2 comes out soonish

[wholoveseggs]

Dark Star {Part Six}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Six

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} A tense family dinner reveals the fractures in the Mikaelson bond as Elijah’s madness pushes his siblings to the breaking point. In the 13th century, you wake up with a new hunger, your transformation into a vampire marking the beginning of a new and prosperous life. Setting up everything that is to come. And as Elijah meets death itself, love and sacrifice blur into a haunting, unforgivable cost.

8.4k words - Warnings: ANGST, a stressful dinner party, sibling fight, full throttle red door Elijah, talk of suicide, tears, blood and so much pain... a sacrifice, a carved out heart & a resurrection that shatters everything...

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}{Part Five}

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The first thing Klaus noticed when he returned to the compound was the smell of food cooking. The second thing he noticed was the looks on the faces of his little brother and sister. Kol was carrying a passed-out Bonnie Bennett, shackles around her wrists, and Rebekah looked shaken, her eyes distant, haunted by something she could barely process.

"What happened?" Klaus demanded, brow furrowing, his gaze shifting to Bonnie’s unconscious form. "Is she alive?"

"She's fine," Kol replied, setting her down on the sofa with surprising gentleness. "She… cried herself to sleep on the drive here," he explained, looking down at the young witch, his expression uncharacteristically soft, but shadowed.

"Well, that’s reassuring," Klaus quipped, though his voice held a thread of unease. His eyes flicked over each of them. "And where’s our esteemed brother?"

"Preparing a family dinner for us," Rebekah said bitterly, her voice hollow. "He’s completely off his rocker, he killed both the Salvatore's and now he's acting like everything's fine. It's madness, Klaus, pure madness."

Klaus' eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He looked to Kol, who nodded.

"He did, and he is," Kol added, his brow furrowed.

"How could you let him?" Klaus snapped, his words sharp, though the accusation in his tone was softened by a flash of disbelief.

"Let him?" Kol let out a harsh laugh, his eyes blazing. "Do you honestly think we could have stopped him?"

"You weren't there," Rebekah said quietly, her gaze unfocused, her mind elsewhere. "It happened so fast... How were we supposed to know? He's lost his bloody mind."

Freya entered the room, her brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the scene. "Uh, dinner is ready," she announced, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Elijah wants you all to wear your best, so... go put on something nice," she said, her gaze drifting back to Bonnie. "And he wants her at the table too," she added, nodding toward the unconscious witch.

Kol let out a humorless chuckle, a grim smirk playing on his lips. Rebekah's face was pale, her eyes haunted, her hands trembling slightly as she reached up to touch her necklace.

"I'd rather not," she murmured, her voice soft and small.

"I don't think we have a choice, sweet sister," Kol said, his expression dark. "Unless we want to end up like the Salvatores,"

Klaus sighed, a scowl forming on his face. He glanced at his siblings, noting their unease. Usually he was the cause of it, but this time was different. He didn't know exactly when it happened, but it seemed his role in the family dynamic had changed. It was now his job to be the conciliator, and he hated it.

"It will be fine," he told them, though he wasn't sure he believed his own words. "I'll talk to him."

Kol's eyebrows rose, his eyes flashing with doubt. "I doubt he'll listen to anything you have to say."

"He'll listen to reason," Klaus said, his tone firm, his jaw clenched.

Kol laughed again, but this time it was filled with genuine amusement. "And what reason is that, brother?"

"I'd say it's best not to keep Elijah waiting," Freya sighed, a note of apprehension in her tone.

"Fine," Rebekah said, her gaze flickering to her brothers, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll go get ready," she muttered, walking away.

Kol and Freya followed her and Klaus stayed behind, his eyes narrowed, his gaze darkening. He could feel the anger rising inside him, but he kept it in check. He had to remain calm. For once, he was the reasonable one, the one in control. He would have to be careful.

Elijah was standing at the head of the table, dressed in his best suit, his face clean-shaven. He was pouring wine for everyone, moving with the unshakable calm of a man who was not currently sane.

"Good evening," he said, a smile tugging at his lips as they all entered the dining room. "I trust you're all well?"

Klaus watched him carefully, his eyes never leaving him as they all sat down. Kol placed Bonnie in the chair next to him, gently propping her up and taking a seat beside her.

"What are you doing?" Rebekah asked, her voice quiet and strained.

"Having dinner," Elijah replied, his voice smooth and calm, as if he hadn't just tortured and killed two people.

"You murdered Damon and Stefan," she accused, her eyes brimming with tears.

Elijah's smile faltered for a moment, a hint of guilt flashing across his face. But then he recovered, his expression becoming neutral again.

"We're here to discuss my wife," he said, his tone clipped, his gaze flicking around the table. "That is all."

"Your dead wife," Kol muttered, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed.

"My soon to be living wife," Elijah corrected, his tone cool. "With the help of Miss Bennett."

"I don't think it's wise to push the girl," Freya cut in, her voice quiet and hesitant. "And this spell... It’s not a straightforward resurrection spell. It’s a hybrid of rites… a mix of necromancy and invocation. I think it might summon the spirit of the dead back to earth while binding it to life,"

"I don't care what it is," Elijah retorted, his jaw clenched, his gaze steely. "Just make it happen."

"Elijah," Klaus began, his voice low, his gaze focused. "I understand that you're hurting, and I know that this is a difficult time for us all, but torturing and murdering our friends will not bring her back,"

"I recall you tortured Stefan not too long ago," he pointed out, his eyes narrowing. "And you Rebekah? You carved up Damon like a Thanksgiving turkey… how are my actions any different?"

Rebekah flinched, her shoulders tensing, her jaw clenching. She looked down at her plate, avoiding his gaze.

"First of all, our actions weren't permanent. Second, we acted rashly. You're a better man than us, Elijah. This isn't who you are." Klaus said, his tone even.

Elijah's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing, his gaze sharpening. He leaned forward, placing his palms flat on the table, his jaw set, a muscle in his cheek twitching.

"I'm not," he said, his voice hard, his words clipped. "And I will do whatever is necessary to get my wife back."

"You know as well as I that there’s no such thing as a spell without a price, and this one… this one sounds like it’ll cost us." Klaus stated, his gaze unwavering.

"I don't care what the consequences are," Elijah hissed, his tone venomous, his eyes blazing.

"Even if it means killing more innocent people?" Kol challenged, his voice a low growl.

"I would kill anyone and everyone if it meant bringing her back," Elijah snapped, his eyes wild.

He slammed his hand down on the table, his face flushed with anger. Everyone jumped, startled by his outburst, and for a moment, no one spoke.

The silence hung heavy in the air, suffocating the room. Elijah took a deep breath, his composure returning as quickly as it had slipped.

"Time for the first course," he said, a tight smile tugging at his lips as he straightened up.

A series of waiters came out from the kitchen, each one carrying an empty glass. A young blonde stood next to Klaus. Another young woman with brown hair approaching Kol. And a handsome older gentleman stopped at Rebekah.

"I've procured your favorites, all ab negative, in honor of the occasion," Elijah explained, his voice smooth and even.

He gestured for the three humans to approach the vampires, his gaze locked on his siblings. The trio walked over, their expressions blank, their eyes glassy. They all cut their wrists, pouring their blood into the glasses, not even flinching as their flesh was sliced open.

The siblings looked at one another, usually this would be the part where they would start drinking, but there was no enthusiasm in the air. Only dread and disgust.

"Go ahead," Elijah encouraged, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

They reluctantly grabbed their glasses, taking a few sips. Each sip was like a bitter pill, burning their throats as it went down.

"I want to thank you all for coming," Elijah continued, ignoring their discomfort. "And I want to express how much it means to me to have your support."

Klaus set his glass down, his expression unreadable, his eyes betraying a hint of anger.

"This is quite the pathetic manipulation, brother. Do you think you can convince us with our favorite food? That you haven’t gone completely mad… by bringing us a few snacks?" Klaus asked, his tone icy.

Elijah's eyes grew darker, his jaw tightening, but he remained composed. He walked over to the blonde standing next to Klaus and grabbed her roughly by the hair.

"I recall you enjoying draining the life from a girl like her," Elijah growled, his eyes wild, his voice dangerous. "Perhaps you'd prefer that instead?"

He wrenched her neck to the side, exposing her jugular. The others stared at him, frozen with shock.

"Stop, Elijah," Klaus said, his voice quiet, his gaze sharp.

"Or what?" Elijah sneered, his grip tightening on the girl's throat. "It's not like you haven't done it before. In fact, you enjoy it. You always have."

"Please," the girl whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please don't hurt me."

He leaned in closer, his mouth inches from her ear, his voice barely a whisper. "Tell my family to help me, or I'll dismember you in front of them."

The girl's eyes widened, her breathing quickening. She looked at the vampires, her gaze pleading, her lips trembling.

"Help him," she begged, her voice shaking, tears rolling down her face. "Please, help him."

Rebekah shook her head, her heart racing, a wave of nausea washing over her. Freya watched the exchange, her brow furrowed, a look of uncertainty and fear crossing her features. Kol's expression was a mix of anger and revulsion, his hands balled into fists, his body tense.

Klaus remained motionless, his gaze fixed on his brother, his eyes hard.

Elijah looked at each one of them, his eyes dark and wild, a hint of madness flickering in them.

"I’ve never asked any of you for anything," he said, his voice steady but laced with a quiet desperation. "Not until now. This is my wife. This is my life. I won’t give her up, not again."

The silence was heavy, the tension in the room palpable. None of them knew what to say, and none of them knew what to do. Their brother had lost his mind, and he wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted.

"Help him," the girl repeated, her voice breaking.

Rebekah rose slowly to her feet, her hands reached out in a calming manner, her eyes meeting Elijah’s, filled with pain. "You know we would do anything for you, Elijah. But this… this is dangerous."

Elijah’s eyes darkened, frustration flaring. "Not any more dangerous than when Klaus became a hybrid, or when Kol was resurrected, or any of the other times we’ve been forced to do the impossible."

Rebekah hesitated, her chest tightening, a knot forming in her stomach. She glanced at Klaus, then at Freya and Kol, her eyes pleading, her throat constricting.

"This is different," Freya interjected, her voice strained. "I can feel it, Elijah. This spell… it wants something in return. It’s alive, in a way."

Elijah’s gaze sharpened, his calm veneer finally cracking. "Why will none of you help me?" he snapped, his voice rising, his temper flaring.

"Because we loved your wife," Klaus retorted, his tone low, his expression fierce. "And because we know that whatever this is, it's going to hurt her. It's going to hurt you. And she wouldn't want that."

"Don't tell me what she wants!" Elijah bellowed, pushing the blonde girl away from him, sending her stumbling towards Klaus. "I am her husband. I'm the one who is supposed to be by her side, not any of you."

"Elijah, please," Rebekah pleaded, her voice cracking, her eyes welling with tears.

"No, you will help me," he commanded, his voice cold, his expression hard.

"Or what?" Klaus challenged, sending the blonde girl scurrying away, his gaze unflinching, his tone firm. "Are you going to hurt us? Your own family?"

Elijah's gaze met Klaus', his eyes blazing, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white. The two brothers stared each other down, a silent battle of wills.

Klaus could feel the anger, the desperation, and the grief rolling off Elijah in waves, but he knew he had to be strong, for his family and for you.

"I will do what is necessary," Elijah growled, his words dripping with malice.

"Then do it," Klaus snarled, he stood up and moved swiftly around the table, grabbing his older brother by the collar, pulling him closer. "Go ahead and rip my heart out, make yourself feel better, but it won't bring her back. And you know that."

"Niklaus," Kol said, his tone warning.

"No," Klaus said, his eyes fixed on Elijah, his grip tightening. "He needs to face reality. I won't let him ruin our lives over his selfish grief."

Elijah's nostrils flared, his hands clenching into fists, he bared his teeth, his fangs elongating, his eyes turning black. "You have no right," he hissed, his voice a low growl.

Before Klaus could react, Elijah struck him, his fist connecting with his jaw. Klaus stumbled back, caught off guard by the sudden attack. He recovered quickly, lunging at Elijah, tackling him to the ground. The two brothers wrestled on the floor, fighting viciously, the sound of their grunts and curses echoing throughout the room.

"Stop it!" Rebekah shouted, her voice breaking. "Both of you! This isn't helping,"

She ran over, trying to pull Elijah off of Klaus, but he shrugged her off, sending her flying into the wall. She crashed against it, a pained groan escaping her lips. Freya moved to help her, but Kol held her back, a wary look on his face.

"Stay back," he warned, his voice low, his eyes never leaving the fight. "It's not safe."

Klaus and Elijah continued to grapple, each one gaining the upper hand only to lose it a moment later. Blood stained their faces and clothes, their bodies bruised and battered, but neither one of them was willing to give up.

Rebekah tried to separate them one again, and this time Elijah turned on her, his eyes wild, his movements frenzied. She blocked his blows as best she could, but she was no match for him, his strength overwhelming her. His eyes were completely black, his rage overtaking him, a look of pure madness on his face.

He grabbed Rebekah by the throat, lifting her off the ground. She clawed at his arms, her nails digging into his flesh, but it was no use. He was too strong, his grip too tight.

Klaus yelled, a primal scream tearing from his throat, his anger and desperation fueling him. He launched himself at Elijah, knocking him off balance and sending him crashing to the ground.

The impact was enough to break his grip on Rebekah, and she fell to the floor, gasping for breath. The three of them falling into a heap.

"Enough!" Freya shouted, her voice full of fury. She raised her hands, a blast of magic shooting out, hitting Elijah and throwing him against the far wall.

Rebekah clutched her throat, her face pale, her breathing ragged. Klaus crawled over to her, pulling her into his arms.

Freya kept her gaze locked on Elijah, her magic holding him in place. He was yelling and sobbing, thrashing against the wall, his eyes wide and unfocused.

"I can't keep him like this forever," she warned, her voice strained, her eyes full of pain and sorrow.

Elijah could hear you calling his name, his vision swimming. The room around him was fading in and out, the walls bleeding, the shadows stretching. He saw you, standing in the doorway, a look of sadness on your face.

"What have you become?" You whispered, your voice echoing in his mind.

Your words snapped him back to reality. He stopped struggling, his eyes meeting yours.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "Don't leave me."

You looked at him, your expression unreadable, and then you were gone.

Elijah felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces, his chest tightening, his breathing growing ragged. He saw Rebekah on the floor, her eyes wide with fear. Fear of him. His baby sister, who looked at him with nothing but love and admiration, now looked at him as if he were a monster.

The guilt and shame overwhelmed him, his eyes filling with tears, his shoulders sagging.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry."

Freya's magic faded, and he collapsed to the floor, his body trembling. He curled up into a ball, sobbing uncontrollably, his pain and grief consuming him.

His siblings watched him, their hearts breaking for him.

"I see her everywhere," he cried, his voice raw. "She's always there, in my head, in my dreams, in my heart. I can't stop thinking about her, and every day, it just gets worse."

Kol moved closer to him, hesitantly reaching out to comfort him, but he pushed them away.

"Don't," he gasped, his voice strained. "I don't deserve it. I'm a monster. I can't even protect the people I love."

Kol crouched down, his expression filled with sympathy. "She loved you so much Elijah, you know that. Don't let her death destroy you," he said softly, his voice full of understanding.

Elijah met his gaze, his eyes full of anguish.

"If you won't help me, will you kill me?" he asked, his voice breaking. "I can't live like this, not without her."

"Elijah..." Rebekah whispered, her own tears falling.

"Please," he begged, his voice trembling, his eyes filled with pain. "Then I could see her again, and maybe... Maybe she would forgive me."

The silence in the room was deafening, each sibling processing his words. He was a broken man, a shell of the noble, honorable brother they knew and loved. And it was killing them to see him like this.

Klaus slowly approached him, kneeling down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll help you, brother," he said quietly, his voice laced with sorrow. "Damn the consequences, we'll help you."

Elijah lifted his head, his eyes wide with disbelief, his breath catching in his throat.

"Really?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"Yes," Rebekah said, kneeling down on the other side of him. "Whatever it takes."

Elijah looked at his siblings, his gaze filled with hope and gratitude. He reached out, pulling them into a hug, holding onto them as if his life depended on it.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice cracking.

The siblings clung to one another, each of them feeling the weight of their decision, the uncertainty and fear they felt. They knew that whatever they were about to do, it would change all of them forever.

13th century Europe

You woke in an unfamiliar bed, the sheets soft and warm against your skin. You sat up, blinking, disoriented. You looked around the room, taking in the dark walls and mahogany furniture, a large window letting in a sliver of pale moonlight.

The memories came flooding back. The villagers, the pain, the darkness, and then, Elijah.

Panic rose within you, and you flung the covers back, stumbling from the bed. The stone floor was cold beneath your bare feet, and you glanced down, seeing that you were wearing only a nightgown.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, shivering, and padded to the door. As soon as you pulled it open, a rush of sound met your ears.

There was a flurry of activity around you, men from the village were carrying things down the stairs, crates and chests, talking quietly among themselves.

"What's going on?" you asked, confusion clouding your thoughts.

One of the men turned, startled. "We must take everything to the carriage," there was a strange look in his eye, an emptiness, and he hurried away, carrying a crate.

You felt a pair of warm hands on your waist, and whirled around, seeing Elijah. He was dressed in a simple tunic, his sleeves rolled up, and his hair was slightly disheveled.

Your eyes met his, and a mixture of emotions flooded through you. You couldn't quite make sense of it all, the guilt and shame warring with relief and longing. He had the same expression, his gaze intense and unreadable.

He leaned in and kissed you, his lips soft and insistent, and you felt yourself melting into him.

"Elijah..." you breathed, pulling away, a million questions burning within you. "What's happening? Why are these men here?"

"We're leaving," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Leaving?" you echoed, your mind reeling.

He nodded, pulling you closer. "We have overstayed our welcome, and it is time to move on."

"Move on?" you repeated, the questions piling up, your thoughts still fuzzy.

He sighed, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I have taken care of things, my dear. You need not worry."

"But...how? What did you do?"

"Come," he said, ignoring your questions. He took your hand, leading you down the stairs, the men following behind.

Everything was so loud, so chaotic, and you found yourself clinging to Elijah's hand, trying to make sense of it all.

Outside, a horse-drawn carriage was waiting, and the men were loading the last of the crates. Elijah led you over to the carriage, helping you inside.

The interior was richly appointed, with plush velvet seats and elegant carvings. There was a faint, spicy smell, and you settled back, the leather smooth beneath you.

"Stay here, I won't be long. And I'll explain everything when we arrive at our new home," Elijah said, his tone soothing, reassuring.

Before you could say anything else, the carriage door was closed, and you were left alone. Watching the men load more crates, a nagging thought tugged at the edge of your mind.

You could hear their heartbeats, clear as a song bird's call, pumping blood through their veins. Your stomach twisted, the hunger rising inside you and then your feet took over, moving almost of their own volition.

You ran, a burst of speed that took you past the men and straight into the village. You stopped, taking a deep breath, and the familiar smells overwhelmed you, the urge to feed becoming almost unbearable.

You didn't understand how you ended up here so fast, the manor house was nearly a days walk away. You didn't even realize where you were headed, until you heard it.

The beating.

A steady, rhythmic thumping, a heartbeat, and a familiar scent, sweet and tempting. You moved silently, almost instinctively, creeping through the shadows until you found her.

Sister Margaret.

Her habit was discarded, a pile of black fabric, and she was kneeling in front of an altar, a silver cross hanging from the wall, flickering candlelight surrounding her.

The sound of her heart was almost deafening, and the bloodlust consumed you, driving away all reason. You crept closer, the darkness concealing you, and before you knew what you were doing, your fangs had pierced her neck, the taste of her blood exploding in your mouth.

It was sweet and intoxicating, and you couldn't stop, even as the tears ran down her face, her body convulsing, her life ebbing away.

When the blood flow slowed, and the heartbeat stopped, you withdrew, looking at her with a detached curiosity. Her eyes were empty, the color gone from her face, and a wave of nausea washed over you.

"No," you whispered, stumbling back, your hand pressed to your mouth, a sick feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

The realization hit, a jarring, gut-wrenching understanding. You were a monster, a demon, a creature of the night. You had taken a life, without a second thought, the need for blood consuming you.

A scream from behind tore you from your thoughts, and you turned to see Mother Mathilde standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock.

"No, this cannot be," she whispered, her voice shaking.

In the blink of an eye, you were standing in front of her, the hunger still burning within you. She stepped back, her face twisted in fear.

"O Lord Almighty, God of Hosts, we humbly beseech Thee to drive out this unclean spirit, this deceiver, this enemy of the faithfu-"

Anger flared within you. You could still feel the stones slamming into you, the pain, the betrayal, and a growl escaped your lips. You wanted to rip her heart out, to make her pay for what she had done, for all the pain she had caused. You lunged at her, the bloodlust driving you.

Your fangs sunk deep into her throat, and her blood filled your mouth, thick and bitter. You drained her dry, and it was the first time you felt true power. A rush of deep satisfaction flowed through you, the heady taste of vengeance.

"What a delicious sight," Elijah's voice came from behind, and you whirled around, seeing him leaning against the doorway.

He was staring at you with a mix of admiration and desire, and something about it made you blush.

You glanced down, seeing the blood dripping from your hands, and the reality of what you had done hit you. You let her lifeless body fall, her glassy eyes staring at the ceiling, her mouth open in a silent scream.

"What have I become? A demon, a monster," you whispered, the shame washing over you, threatening to drown you.

Elijah crossed the distance between you in a flash, cupping your face in his hands. His eyes met yours, his voice soft and soothing. "Don't be afraid, love. This is a gift, a new beginning, a chance to truly live."

"Live?" you echoed, the word heavy with meaning.

"Yes, to live," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "To see the world, and all its wonders. To experience every sensation, and explore every possibility."

His words were intoxicating, and you couldn't deny the truth. Something was changing within you, a spark of life, a hunger for more.

"Where do we go from here?" you asked, a flutter of anticipation rising in your chest.

"Anywhere you want," he said, his voice laced with promise.

"Show me," you whispered, and a wicked smile spread across his face.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. "With pleasure,"

Elijah stood at the stop of the old stone steps leading to the cellar, his face grim, his heart heavy. The only light in the room came from the torches on the wall, casting his face in shadow.

He hadn't been down there since the day you died. Your coffin still lay on the table, its lid closed, the silence in the air suffocating.

He walked over, placing his hand on the smooth surface. His throat tightened, his breath catching in his chest as he thought of you, your lifeless body, your empty eyes, gray skin. He would never see you smile, or hear your laughter again, and the grief was a raw wound that refused to heal.

He knew it was madness, he knew that the odds of this working were slim, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that it was his only chance. He had lost so much, sacrificed everything. He couldn't lose you too.

He told himself it was all justified as he removed the lid from your coffin. You deserved the chance to come back, to be happy.

He would do anything for you.

"I'm sorry, my love," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

He laid a blanket out, then gently lifted you out of the coffin, holding you tightly against him. Your body was cold, stiff, and lifeless, but he held you close, as if willing his life into yours.

"It'll be alright," he murmured, tears stinging his eyes, his throat aching.

He had to believe that, no matter what the cost.

As the darkness surrounded him, the silence was deafening. He placed you on the blanket, his fingers lingering on your cheek, wrapping the blanket around you, his face lined with sorrow.

He lifted you, his arms wrapped protectively around your body, carrying you up the stairs. Every step felt heavier, and by the time he reached the courtyard, his entire body ached, his mind swimming with grief and guilt.

Bonnie stood in the center of the courtyard, still handcuffed and surrounded by the Original siblings, her face pale, her eyes dark and wary.

"I don't want any part of this," Bonnie said, her voice low and shaking.

Elijah gently placed your body on the ground, his hands lingering for a moment before he turned to face her, his expression unreadable.

"If you want to walk out of here alive, you'll do this," Elijah's voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes fixed on her, dark and dangerous.

Bonnie swallowed, her face twisting in disgust, her mind reeling with the memories of Damon and Stefan's deaths, the sound of their bodies hitting the ground, their lifeless faces.

She couldn't bring herself to speak, her throat constricting as she fought back the tears.

Freya looked at her, her voice gentle but urgent. "You're the only one who can do this, Bonnie. It has to be you."

"Fine," Bonnie snapped, her gaze hardening. "But I'll only do it once, and I won't have any part of whatever else happens after."

Elijah nodded. "That's all I ask."

Freya stepped forward, the spell book in her hand, and placed it in Bonnie's. She unshackled her wrists, and Bonnie rubbed them, trying to relieve the aching pressure, glaring at her captors.

Elijah nodded to his siblings, and they formed a circle around the witch and the body, a solemn hush falling over the courtyard.

Elijah got to his knees, looking up at Bonnie with a pleading, almost desperate expression. "Do it," he ordered, his voice hoarse.

She hesitated, her eyes searching his, then nodded, her eyes growing cold as she reached out her hand to Freya. "Knife," she said.

Freya hesitated, "I was going to-"

Bonnie gave her a cold stare, cutting her off.

Freya's brow furrowed, but she handed Bonnie a small, ornate dagger.

Bonnie gave a slight smirk as she took it, then looked at Elijah. 

"Tenebrae animarum, viam aperite (Shadows of souls, open the way)"

Her words echoed through the courtyard, the wind picking up as the clouds parted, the moonlight spilling onto the courtyard, bathing it in an ethereal glow.

Bonnie raised the dagger, looking down at Elijah, and brought the blade down, the tip of the blade resting just above his heart. 

"I'm going to make sure this hurts," she hissed, her voice dripping with malice.

She plunged the dagger into his heart, a look of pleasure spreading across her face as his body jerked and his face twisted in pain. She wasn't gentle, or precise when carving out the organ, her movements jagged and rough.

He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to scream, his vision blurring as blood flowed from the gaping wound, soaking the ground.

Bonnie dropped the dagger, her hands stained red, and reached inside the open wound, her eyes gleaming as she pulled out his still-beating heart.

She held it in her hands, the organ pulsing, the blood flowing down her arms, the moonlight glinting off the crimson liquid. Elijah's body collapsed next to yours, his eyes staring sightlessly into the sky.

Bonnie closed her eyes, the wind swirling around her, the moon shining brighter. Her hands glowed with power as she began the spell.

Rebekah looked away, her stomach churning as Bonnie dropped the heart into the bowl, the blood pooling inside.

"Ex corde sacrificium, dilectionis vinculum. (From the heart, a sacrifice, bound by love.)"

Kol's jaw clenched, his face pale, his eyes fixed on the bloody heart in the bowl. While Klaus stood stone-faced, the muscles in his jaw tightening, a glimmer of unease in his eyes.

Freya stood next to Bonnie, her expression focused as she chanted, her hands clasped in front of her.

Even though his siblings knew he would rise again, the sight of Elijah's body was still unsettling, the gravity of what they were doing finally sinking in.

Bonnie handed the knife to Klaus, the blade stained red, and he took it, his eyes narrowing.

She held out the bowl to him, her expression blank, devoid of emotion. "We need enough blood to submerge the heart," she explained.

Klaus nodded, his jaw clenched, his gaze never leaving hers. He took the knife, slicing his wrist open, his blood dripping into the bowl.

He handed the blade to Rebekah, and she repeated the gesture, her face pale. Followed by Kol, who did the same.

Freya took the bowl once there was enough blood and dipped the heart into it, the blood soaking into the flesh.

"Sanguine renascitur, vita et mors iunguntur. (By blood reborn, life and death are joined.)"

She knelt next to you and Elijah's body, placing his heart on your chest. She glanced up at Bonnie, a look of apprehension on her face, and the witch nodded, her expression grim.

Freya closed her eyes, and placed her hands over the heart, pressing down gently, her brow furrowing in concentration.

Bonnie's face twisted with strain, sweat beading on her forehead as she chanted.

"Corpus recipiat cor, anima revocetur. (Let the body receive the heart, let the soul return.)"

Freya's voice rose, and she felt the magic building inside her, swirling like a hurricane. Her hands began to shake, her fingers trembling as she felt the spell reaching its climax.

"In nomine dilectionis, viam ingredere. (In the name of love, cross the path.)"

Bonnie's voice shook, the words almost impossible to understand, her body shaking as the magic surged through her.

Freya's eyes flew open, her hands gripping the heart tightly, her eyes wild. With all her strength she picked up the heart, as though it weighed a thousand pounds, and placed it back into Elijah's chest.

The wind whipped around them, howling like wolves, and thunder rolled across the sky, lightning illuminating the courtyard.

Freya placed her hand over the wound, pouring all her magic into it, and the air was filled with tingling, sparks dancing along their skin.

"Animam caram reducite, ad vitam resurgite. (Bring back the cherished soul, rise again to life.)"

Bonnie's words echoed through the air, the power flowing from her into the spell, her body trembling, her mind filled with the rush of magic, the smell of rain, the roar of the storm.

And then, there was silence. The wind stopped, the clouds drifted apart, and the moonlight bathed the courtyard once again.

Rebekah's eyes widened, and she rushed over, kneeling next to her brother. Freya looked up, her face drawn, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

"Did it work?" Rebekah whispered.

"I don't know," Freya replied, her voice shaky.

Rebekah touched his shoulder gently. "Elijah?"

Elijah's body was motionless, the wound on his chest beginning to heal.

"He's gone to fetch her," Kol said, his voice quiet.

Freya stood, breathless and pale, her gaze fixed on Elijah. “He’s crossed over. Now we wait.”

As the living world faded, Elijah felt the pull of an unseen force, and a swirling mist began to envelop him. He felt like he was falling through clouds, the darkness closing in around him, until finally, he came to a stop, his feet touching solid ground.

His footsteps echoing as he moved through the dense, ghostly fog. Shadows whispered, and time seemed to fold around him, twisting and bending as he descended further, guided only by an instinct that he couldn’t name.

Through the mist, a faint light glimmered, soft and warm. He made his way toward it, the shadows fading, the light growing brighter, until he reached the edge of the fog.

Before him was a garden, lush and green, filled with the scent of flowers and grass, and the sound of birdsong. The sun shone, its warmth caressing his skin, and the trees swayed in the gentle breeze.

As Elijah walked through the garden, his eyes adjusting to the light, he saw you. The real you. He knew it instantly.

There you were, sitting on a stone bench, wearing a white sundress, your hair falling in soft waves. You looked like an angel, and his heart swelled, a knot forming in his throat.

He stepped forward, his footsteps soft against the grass, and you turned, a smile spreading across your face, your eyes bright and shining. You leapt up, throwing your arms around him, and he held you close, breathing in the scent of your hair, savoring the feel of your skin.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

"I'm here to bring you home," he murmured, pulling away, taking your hands in his.

"But I am home," you said, confusion coloring your tone.

"Not yet," he replied, his expression pained, his heart aching. "But soon."

You pulled back from him, cupping his face, your brow furrowed. "Elijah, what's wrong?"

He couldn't answer, his throat tightening. There were so many things wrong, confessions that needed to be made, a pain that had no end.

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong, not anymore," he managed, his voice choked.

"Elijah," you said softly, concern flashing in your eyes.

He couldn't bear it any longer, couldn't hide the anguish that had been eating him alive, the pain of losing you. He kissed you, his lips capturing yours, the warmth of your mouth, the taste of you, filling him with a longing so powerful that it threatened to tear him apart.

"Come home," he whispered against your lips. "Come back to me."

Your eyes searched his, your brow furrowing, but he leaned in, kissing you again, his hands gripping your waist. You kissed him back, the desperation in his touch, the ache in his voice, sending a stab of worry through you.

"Oh my love. My sweet Eli. What have you done?" you asked, tears welling in your eyes.

He smiled softly, brushing the tears away, his gaze filled with an unspoken promise. "Don't worry. Everything will be alright."

"Do you feel this place?" You asked, gesturing around. "This peace, this warmth? We can stay here, forever."

Elijah's expression grew pained. "I'm not meant for peace, my love," he said softly.

Your hands slipped around his neck, fingers playing with his hair, and you rested your forehead against his, your eyes closing.

"Why do you think that? That you are undeserving," you whispered.

Elijah didn't speak, his gaze locked with yours, and you could see the pain, the anguish, the guilt.

"I've done terrible things," he whispered, his voice strained. "Things that I'm ashamed of, things that would make you think less of me,"

"No," you murmured, leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Yes," he replied, his voice hoarse.

He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently, before bringing it up to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles.

"I'm not a good man, and I never will be. But you… you are the best part of me," he murmured. "The only light I've ever known."

Your eyes met his, filled with sorrow, and your heart ached for him. "I love you, Elijah. All of you. Even the parts you don't want me to see," you said softly.

His face contorted with grief, his throat tightening, and his voice cracked as he spoke. "How can you?"

You leaned in, your lips grazing his, before resting your forehead against his. "Are souls are one, from the moment we met. We've always been connected, and nothing will change that."

"I failed you," he said, his voice strained, his heart heavy with the weight of his guilt. "I couldn't even avenge your death."

You brushed the tears away from his face, kissing the corner of his mouth, before pulling back to meet his eyes. "You didn't fail me, Elijah. You never could."

He held you close, his hands trembling, his body shuddering with the intensity of his grief. "Please," he whispered, his voice choked. "Don't leave me again,"

His arms tightened around you, his breath catching in his throat, and he pressed his face into the curve of your neck, his shoulders shaking.

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, stroking his hair. Your own eyes stung with tears, the knowledge of what was coming weighing on your heart, the sadness and regret threatening to swallow you whole.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse, muffled against your skin. "More than anything."

"I love you too," you whispered.

He kissed you, his hands cradling your face, his mouth urgent and hungry. His fingers trailed over your skin, tracing the line of your collarbone, the curve of your neck, as if committing it to memory, and your heart broke at the thought.

You smiled, a faint hint of sadness in your eyes. "You have to let me go Eli, I belong here."

He shook his head, his gaze sharp, determined. "No. No, you don't," he said. "And I won't lose you again. Not for anything."

"Elijah-"

"Don't argue," he interrupted, his voice firm.

Your smile faltered, the look in his eyes, the pain and longing, stirring a sense of unease inside you.

"You are not going to let me choose are you?" You asked softly.

He smiled, a hint of sadness in his eyes, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. "Not this time."

"Don't worry," he whispered, his grip on your waist tightening. "It will be okay,"

"No, it won't," you insisted, your voice shaking, tears stinging your eyes. "You don't understand."

"I understand that I can't live without you," he replied, his voice firm, his eyes dark.

You could see the resolve in his face, the determination in his gaze, and your heart sank. He lifted you up, his arms wrapping around you, and you clung to him, burying your face in his chest.

You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, not as he carried you out of the garden, the warmth of the sun fading, the light dimming, the air growing colder. You didn't want to see the shadows, the darkness, the pain that you knew awaited.

"Please, don't do this," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Shh," he soothed, his voice low, his arms tightening around you.

"Don't make me go back," you pleaded, the tears sliding down your cheeks, your voice breaking.

"Don't ask me to let you go," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"You have to," you insisted, the pain in your chest almost unbearable.

"No," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Fear, panic, and desperation rose, the memories swirling like a storm in your mind. Elijah’s hand pressed against your back, his touch steady, calming, though his own heart was pounding.

The wind howled, darkness pressed in, the cold seeped into your bones, and the air grew heavy with foreboding. Elijah’s arms tightened around you as your warmth began to fade, and his heart clenched, realizing he was losing you again.

Suddenly, from the mist, a voice echoed, slicing through the silence: "Cursed child."

The voice surrounded them, growing louder, the darkness thickening. Then a figure emerged from the fog. An indistinct, a shadowy form. Its tone was almost affectionate as it called out to him again, "there you are, my cursed child."

Elijah’s arms tightened around you as he faced the shadowy figure, his heart pounding wildly. He could feel your warmth slipping away, and he refused to let go.

“Do you think you could just steal from me?” the figure mocked, as though speaking to a child.

“She is mine,” Elijah’s voice was hoarse but unwavering, his gaze fierce as he held you protectively.

The figure tilted its head, a glimmer of amusement flickering in its hollow eyes. “Is she?” it whispered, almost tenderly.

Elijah felt a chill creep into his veins, the weight of its gaze bearing down on him like lead.

“What are you?” he demanded, his voice taut, trying to hold his resolve.

The figure stepped closer, its features emerging from the shadows. Possessing a woman’s face, ageless and haunting, with eyes that seemed to pierce into his very soul. “I am the keeper of what you seek to steal back,” she said, her voice both gentle and unyielding.

Elijah’s grip tightened around you. “I’m not giving her to you.”

The figure’s lips twisted into a faint smile. “Then perhaps you would trade, Elijah Mikaelson?”

Elijah’s brows drew together, his heart stuttering as he understood. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, desperation lacing his words.

The figure’s eyes glimmered, savoring his question. “I want you.”

Elijah’s pulse quickened, dread pooling in his gut as he felt your heartbeat slow in his arms, your warmth fading. Time was running out.

“Why?” he whispered.

“I gave you to Time long ago, binding you to a restless eternity,” the figure murmured, almost nostalgic. “It was a good deal, for me and your family. You alone have ushered thousands of souls into my void."

Elijah stared at her, his mouth dry.

"And yet," the figure murmured, her eyes gleaming with a dark hunger, "I long for your old soul…all the suffering, the pain, the blood on your hands. So many lives claimed by your own choices." Her voice was like a song, beautiful and chilling.

Elijah swallowed hard. "What do you want me for?"

"To be my shepherd," the figure whispered. "You will guide my souls into the dark."

A chill swept through him as the meaning sank in. She was asking him to forfeit everything: his family, his redemption, his freedom. He looked down at you, feeling your heart’s weak, faltering beat and watching the faint rise and fall of your breath. Desperation surged through him. He could not. Would not. Lose you again.

"Will she live?" he asked, his voice a tremor of vulnerability.

The figure’s eyes glimmered. "Of course… a fair trade, don’t you think?”

Elijah closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his lips to your forehead. After all that he had done. The countless unforgivable sins he had committed. He didn't do it all just to have you return to the living, he did it to have you. To be with you again. He was done trying to negotiate what he wanted, done pretending his intentions were anything other than selfish. He had no regrets, except perhaps the ones that were still to come.

The thought of leaving you, of leaving his family, it wasn't an option. He thought of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up, the way your voice softened when you spoke his name.

How could he let go of that?

"No," he said, his voice steady as steel, his grip tightening. "We are both leaving. Together. You'll have to kill me before I give her up."

The figure tilted its head, studying him, her expression almost curious. Then, her lips twisted into a sinister smile.

"I cannot stop you, Mr. Mikaelson."

In an instant, her form blurred, the air thickening with an oppressive weight. The ground trembled as a bitter, mocking laugh echoed around him, and the world twisted into darkness. Elijah felt an icy grip tighten around his heart, searing pain slicing through his chest. The shadows pressed in, colder, denser, the voices of the dead shrieking in his ears.

His entire body convulsed as the pain became unbearable, a scream tearing from his throat, reverberating through the void. He clutched you closer, his voice becoming a raw cry in the darkness, his vision fading.

Then, slowly, the agony ebbed, and he found himself on solid ground. He sat up, gasping, surrounded by the anxious faces of his siblings, but his eyes were fixed on you.

Your heart was beating, color had returned to your cheeks, and your eyes were beginning to flutter open. Rebekah knelt beside him, her voice a whisper filled with awe. “You did it.”

Elijah cradled you in his arms, a smile breaking through the tear-streaked relief on his face. "We did it."

He glanced up at his family, quiet joy spreading as they shared a look of silent victory. For a fleeting moment, peace settled over them.

But then, as he gazed down, you opened your eyes and looked up at him… Alive, yet with a distant, empty gaze.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice soft and confused. “What's happening?”

Elijah’s smile vanished, his world tipping into silence. Panic flashed across his face as he gripped your hands, clinging to the familiar warmth, willing recognition back into your gaze.

"It's me," he murmured, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. "It’s Elijah."

You searched his face, puzzled, your brow furrowing. "I’m sorry," you said, softly shaking your head, "but I don’t know who you are."

The world stilled, his heartbeat slowing as a cold ache settled into his chest, something hollow and irreparable. It was a wound that would not heal, a love now held in silence.

Death is merciful. Death is simple. A quiet release into the vastness of time.

But for those who have loved across centuries, who have woven their souls through lifetimes, death becomes something else. It becomes a relentless keeper of memories, a silent warden of all they cherished and all they have sacrificed.

To let go would be a mercy, but for the ones who cannot. Who cling to love even as it decays. Time warps into something dark and unyielding. Every lost moment, every choice twisted by grief, binds them tighter to shadows of who they once were. And as they descend deeper into that darkness, the memories, both beautiful and bitter, become chains that will never release them.

The cost of refusing to let go is an eternity haunted, a soul consumed by the ghosts of everything that was, and everything that will never be again.

For death is kind. It is love that is cruel.

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}{Part Five}

XOXOXO Thank you for reading! & I'm only a little sorry.... Here is a sad song that inspired this whole fic (aka more pain)~

[driaswrld]

one night only! — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 2.1k

summary : fem!reader goes to a club with shoko to be free from her scary guard dog besties, satoru and suguru show up anyway, just a bunch of intimacy really. maybe one lil suggestive part w satoru?? mention of wlw shoko and possible insinuation of stoner geto lmao

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : i headcanon poly satosugu as often toeing the line between platonic love and romantic love bcus these three idiots rlly can't tell the diff sometimes. also shoko is gay and is my gf don't @ me. also this is ooc of how satoru and suguru would be at a club cs lets be fr satoru would be an emotional drunken mess while suguru is in the bathroom smoking or smth

other : im having so many teenage romance thoughts ab poly satosugu. also this was kinda inspired by a poly marauders fic i read agesss ago

current casette : i was never there - the weeknd. me and your mama - childish gambino.

You can feel the bass of the music in your throat, your heartbeat racing to catch up with it.

Parties like these only had one common thread : brainless, brainless fun.

“That one over there,” Shoko murmurs against your ear as discreetly as she can, but just as loud as for you to hear her over the thumping music inside the club. Your gaze moves from the sequin strap across Shoko’s shoulder and over to a girl across the way, a redhead, leaning against the bar and knocking back an expensive looking drink. “She’s pretty.” You turn your head to Shoko’s ear.

Satoru and Suguru have been… hovering these past few weeks.

You love them, truly, the bestest best friends anyone could ask for. But two popular conventionally attractive men by your side at all times? It does put a damper on your love life. Shoko would be able to understand your point of view — if she wasn’t playing for the other team at least.

The redhead looks over her shoulder out at the mass of bodies on the dancefloor, the dark blue dress she has on really accentuates her figure — among other things. “You should go tal–” Before you can finish, Shoko’s mouth is agape, eyes fixed on the girl, and being the wingwoman that you are, you shove her forward a little. “Talk to her.”

“You sure?” Shoko wobbles forward, tipsy but sober enough to take a pretty girl home. The neon lights inside the club flash pink and blue then red and green then pink and—

“I don’t wanna abandon you, name.” You only laugh at Shoko, giving her two firm thumbs up, nudging her forward again, and still, she stands there contemplating. That is, until the redhead turns around and locks eyes with Shoko.

Oh, she’s far gone already.

“Don’t leave my peripheral.” Shoko kisses the side of your cheek and begins to saunter off, just as the song playing in the club changes to a softer, more sensual song.

There’s something about parties. Something that gives you the uneasy feeling two specific people could pop up at any time – two people you’re trying very hard to make clear to that you’re your own woman.

What makes a grown man wanna cry?

You slide back to the spot on the dancefloor you and Shoko shared moments ago, and with a sigh of near relief, you let the music transcend you to a different realm. Your body sways among the masses, a tinge of alcohol probably clouding your judgement because on any other occasion you’d find dancing in public embarrassing—

When it’s time, when it’s time, when it’s time, it won’t matter

There’s a sense of complete euphoria that washes over you, and before you know it, a slender arm snakes around your waist. And despite your better judgement, you know who it is before you look over your shoulder.

It’s an eerily intimate thing, feeling the chill of the six eyes raking over you.

You’re sure Suguru must be the only other person to feel how it feels, the goosebumps that rise on your flesh, hair standing on end. But not in fear. In something else entirely—

“You’re so pretty.” Satoru whispers against the edge of your ear. He doesn’t sound drunk. At the very least he barely sounds tipsy, just a small slur of speech in between, and you look over your shoulder at him.

“Prettier than you?” You stop moving and let out a laugh, and he goes brainless. Crystalline orbs stare down at you, and he pulls your body flush against him, pressing his body into yours from behind.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles and your body sways, resuming with the rhythm of the blaring music. A whisper of the lyrics leaves his mouth, and you nearly forget how he knows the song — must’ve been in one of Suguru’s playlists. One of those playlists he keeps.

“Satoru—” you’re about to scold him, maybe tell him this is a thin line, one you’ve been toeing for too long.

Satoru brings his other arm around your waist, both his hands meeting in accord atop the flesh of your stomach. He waits for a beat, waits for you to tell him no, but it never comes.

I’m on the edge of something breaking

His head dips to your height, his hair tickles the back of your neck. You can feel the heat from his lips on your skin as he hums along to the lyrics. “Just feel it for a little...” He whispers.

Even in his tipsy but not-so-tipsy state, he knows exactly what he's doing. You think, maybe he’s always known. At least in body but not in mind.

If I keep going I won’t make it

A sigh escapes your lips, something akin to a breath of relief, like a weight lifts off your shoulders.

Satoru’s body grinds forward onto you, and your head tilts back onto his chest, a mouthful of lyrics leaving your mouth in a gasp. “Feels good, yeah?” He grins down at you, pleased, his voice a bit off-key in a more Satoru-like fashion.

“Didn’t know you knew the song,” the words leave your lips as you both lock eyes. He rolls his eyes and sinks his teeth into the exposed flesh of your shoulder playfully.

“Suguru plays it all the time—” He replies, then continues to hum along with the song, his voice barely sounding like his own. “It’s too sexy to not know.”

There’s a sense of comfort in not knowing the depth of what you feel in this moment.

Satoru spins you around to face him, and the breath leaves your lungs. And the moment in between knowing what your relationship is and not knowing all but fades to black.

And with the way he looks into your eyes, and leans forward, you think he just might break the line two.

And it’s all because of you—

The song fades out, to a more upbeat one, and Satoru’s hands fall limp at his sides. Suddenly, you remember how to breathe. And you swallow the lump in your throat, all while he gives you the signature goofy grin you’ve come to cherish.

You turn your head to look across the mini crowd, and Shoko is still there, one arm slung around the redhead as they both knock back shots.

Temporary. It’s no big deal, you and Satoru were just tipsy.

But that sense of relief is short-lived.

Embarrassingly so.

“Boo.” A sharp exhale leaves your lips as soon as you turn your head, and instead of Satoru staring down at you, your view is blocked by Suguru.

You look at him like a lost child, and he rears his head away to laugh at you. “Don’t look so scared, name.” He smirks, slyly, like Suguru always does when he’s taunting.

“You dumbass—” You breathe, a hand colliding with the edge of his shoulder in a soft shove and Satoru can’t help but laugh at the sight before him.

Then, Suguru’s fingers wrap around your wrist, two, then four then he’s tugging you forward, straight into him and Satoru. “Don’t be so mean to me, you’ll break my heart.” He says it so condescendingly, with such a smile that makes your heart leap at your current predicament.

Satoru really wasn’t done. He just brought in reinforcements.

“As if—” You grumble, and the lights dim for a second before flashing a neon purple. And that’s all the time Satoru and Suguru need.

“—I have a heart?” Suguru towers over you, and he bends his knees just a little, resting his chin against your shoulder so you can hear him. “Or as if you could break it?”

You think Suguru’s been smoking. The warmth of his breath against your bare skin makes you shiver a little. You think you feel a little dizzy just from looking at him.

The way his eyes are downcast, eyelids heavy, like he’s bordering on the precipice of eternal sleep or the best dream he’s ever had, one he doesn't want to wake from.

He looks at you like you're the latter rather than the former.

Satoru swings his hand forward, interlocking his fingers with yours, pale slender digits finding purchase between yours as he moves to your side. “As if to both.” He rolls his eyes, and Suguru lets out a soft whistle, “You’re so cold, Satoru.”

The song playing begins to fade out, and Suguru takes advantage of the few seconds before the song switches, that small gap of silence, and he whispers, “Dance with us..?”

“Duh.” You grab ahold of Suguru’s hand with your free one, all while Satoru’s grip on your other hand tightens just a little. “Who else would I dance with?”

These things are no secret, never have been and never will be. And you have a funny feeling you know why your love life remains so stagnant.

How does the old age thing go? Never let your girl have a boy bestfriend. Or worse, two.

The three of you saunter to the middle of the dancefloor, the neon lights flashing shades of blue.

And if you didn’t know better, you’d say whoever the DJ is, they’ve got a sick sense of humor.

Because they manage to play the most romantically erotic song you could ever hear in a club setting. Ironically, a song you recognize from your playlist — no doubt you learned it from one of Suguru’s tracklists. A very extensive one titled with a leaf emoji.

I’m in love when we are smoking that—

Suguru’s arm moves to wrap around your waist from in front, and he tugs you close as the soft tempo reverberates through the room. He shrugs some of his hair off his shoulder, dark eyes finding yours and he doesn’t dare look away for a second.

Suguru must think you're a pipe dream. That you’ll disappear if he blinks.

Your bodies rock from side to side and Satoru doesn’t let go of your hand, instead he slides behind you, following the rhythm you and Suguru have set in tune, raising your intertwined hands to his lips, and for a moment he uses them as a makeshift microphone to sing—

La-la-la-la-la

Suguru grins and he presses his chin atop your head, his other arm coming around to hug you close to his chest, while Satoru meets you both halfway, and it’s really just a sandwich swaying side to side with you in the middle.

I’m in love when we are smoking that—

What initially started off as something so simple, you coming to a club with Shoko wanting to finally get laid since your best friends managed to scare all the guys off — has turned into something so soft, so intimate.

There are never many words, never much explanation when you’re with Satoru and Suguru.

And it’s clear none of the three of you know what this is or where you stand. But for now, that’s okay.

La-la-la-la-la

“You okay?” Suguru dips his head to mumble into your ear, and you nod, words failing you.

In truth, you’ve never felt so soft, so safe yet so… vulnerable. But that’s also okay.

Satoru cranes his neck and leans his body over yours to look between you and Suguru, having not heard a thing. “You two okay?”

And you laugh. Suguru does too.

Suguru’s arms around you keeps you grounded against him, and Satoru’s weight against your back keeps you firm between them. “If you need us to stop… if you need a drink I can—” Suguru tries, but you cut him off with a soft pat to his shoulder.

“Don’t stop,” you mimic Satoru’s words from earlier as your own into Suguru’s chest and he melts. “Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah.” You affirm, and he nods, his chin going back to rest atop your head. And you wrap a free arm around Suguru’s middle, the other still softly interlaced with Satoru’s at your side. “M’ happy here.”

“In the club?” Suguru asks, albeit a little louder so you can hear him an amused smile slipping onto his features. “No, just—” Your words fail you. But this, there can’t be any intent without feeling, true unbiased feeling.

And you feel it, coursing through you in soft waves for them.

That unbiased wavy feeling, almost like you’re floating. That feeling for them. Though you don’t quite know what to call it yet.

“Here,” you mumble and a smile stretches onto your face. “With you, and Satoru too.”

Suguru stops swaying a bit, and at the change in movement Satoru stops too, peering over your shoulder to see what’s happening.

But Suguru only grins a little. “I’m happy too,” he says. Then he glances at Satoru, and Satoru glances to you. “I guess if you two are so happy, then me too.” Satoru chuckles.

[rei-ismyname]

X-Men #11 Review

To be honest, this one was underwhelming. There's always something worthy of commentary, it just feels like not much happens and it doesn't quite feel like a full issue - perhaps because it bucks the Marvel formula of the three Cs - conflict, choice, and conclusion.

Stuff certainly happens but nothing that couldn't be summed up in a few sentences at the start of next issue. The last three issues have all had high stakes, for better or worse, and without room to breathe tension burns out.

The Raid on Graymalkin is over but not much has changed, Agent Fucko and the O*N*E have stood down, and everyone is moving on. I didn't expect to see a discussion about recent events but I really want one. Serious shit has gone down very recently and all these people should have opinions on that. The X-Men are used to constant drama but still ... it feels like those events didn't matter and the characters feel thinner for it. It's said that the O*N*E visit was 'earlier' yet Beast is standing and relaxed despite being beaten badly. Maybe Xorn is that good a healer.

After a cold open on some kind of space bullshit crashing nearby, we cut to Beast and Jen Starkey running some tests on her mutation. They're on an awkward first name basis after she reminds him but they're getting along well enough. Hank theorises that she's a metamorph of some kind and tests that hypothesis. Flying seems like a risky place to start but I'm not a scientist. Fortunately he's right and she's not a reality warper or something - she grows wings and assumes avian features. Cool. We move on from them as the plot is happening to other people. Nice to see you both, say hi to Magneto for me.

Whatever crashed is making a beeline for Merle, and Scott feels the O*N*E visit has already disrupted the town enough for one day. If it wasn't coming for them he says it would be none of their business, which is understandable. The X-Men have so many red alert crises and threats coming for them that they couldn't operate as traditional superheroes even if they wanted to. I think that might be this book's identity - Cyclops and friends playing whack-a-mole with endless mutant problems. Although, in other books they're expanding the scope. They're fighting one of Cyttorak's kids right now in Amazing Spider-Man, they've agreed to be on call to the Avengers and have an alliance of sorts; though when all the heroes gather for One World Under DOOM the only mutant present is Storm. Maybe they're in space due to this issue, but the degree of connectivity feels inconsistent. That's often been a thing with X-books, except it's been explicitly set up in Avengers so I don't know what to think.

The banter is cute and the ad hoc points system adorable, but it's mood whiplash considering there's been no time skip since the last 3 intense issues. Maybe I'm nitpicking. I've certainly been known to. People who aren't able to decompress after high stress situations often turn to humour to cope. Something I find myself saying with this book a lot is 'I guess we'll see if it's followed up on.' Given the amount of dangling plot threads and character beats I can't help but feel that the book doesn't deserve that grace. I'll come back to that.

Moving on, Scott needs to be captured by alien bounty hunters and this is how it happens. The visitor from space is Scott's deadbeat dad, Corsair. He's here to warn him that he's got a huge battalion after him, but he really doesn't prioritise it. They greet warmly but Scott is suspicious of his motives, an attitude he had in Phoenix but one that's at odds with other recent history. Whatever - Corsair sucks and he deserves to get called out.

Haha! Krakoa callbacks have been pretty inconsistent, but this is definitely a fun one to dredge up. The Starjammers did abandon the New Mutants to Shi'Ar prison for petty reasons and Magik remembers. She interrupts Scott's interrogation and punches the old geezer in the face. Good for her. Space jail sucks and that's dry snitching.

It's interrupted by Beast detecting even more space bullshit with his instruments. A space whale carrying a whole bunch of aliens is rolling up. So that's what the situation is, thanks Corsair.

'For you. They're here for you.' Not hard.

Err, you didn't really say that, Corsair. Sure, you used that word, but there was no sense of urgency when you could have just said 'aliens are coming to get you, Scott Summers, very soon. It's an emergency.' Even after getting angry he talks about himself and deflects. Just fucking tell them what's happening dude. 'They' is vague and you basically wasted your time. He's not even finished blundering.

The X-Men leap into action with Scott assuming the bounty hunters are here for Corsair - a VERY reasonable assumption. That they're actually here for Scott is very strange. I think Scott taking the situation at face value would be correct 99% of the time - Corsair is a dodgy space pirate who's always being chased by bounty hunters whereas Scott is a Shi'Ar ally and on decent terms with the Kree-Skrull empire. As Corsair admits, he has a 2.5 million credit bounty on his head. No idea what the exchange rate is but it sounds like a lot. I wonder if they're still using Mysterium as a currency and store of value.

There's been some big changes in galactic politics recently in response to Jean and Phoenix cruising around. Gladiator freaked out about it and long story short the Galactic Council put Thanos in charge. They shouldn't be able to do that but mind control is probably involved. Hulkling, Wiccan, or Xandra have been strangely absent. Anyway, failing to get across that they're after Scott is such a blunder I have to wonder if it's not a betrayal. Corsair is an idiot, but that makes this an idiot plot. His and Scott's argument ends up being a pointless waste of time - just taking up page space.

Temper scorches the poor whale, lucky it's lobotomized. The X-Men come through a portal onto the whale ship and raise hell. It's always nice to see how effectively the team work together, though we've just had an event full of pointless violence. Scott thinks he's rescuing his dad but he's really charging into a trap. Corsair eventually convinces Quentin to let him into the telepathic group chat and HE STILL YAPS ABOUT IRRELEVANT INFORMATION. Fuck, just tell him they're here for him; Scott doesn't need to know about the economics of interstellar travel right now.

'I came to warn you, son. I'll do so after including as much extraneous information as possible.' Corsair manages to spit it out only after Scott has already realised something is up. The bounty hunters are wearing Ruby Quartz armor (which is pretty cool) and they've got Cyclops surrounded. Seems like Magik could get him out of there pretty easily, or Scott could blow a hole in the floor. Juggernaut, famously, can't be stopped - surely he can take out these chumps.

Only now do we get 'they're after you.' Three words that he could have said at any time, or even thought it at either of the two telepaths present. He even has a ship-to-speeder communicator that he could have used to get to the point. It's necessary to have characters make mistakes and have errors in communication. It's a reliable and relatable source of drama. Filling half the issue with Corsair dropping out of the sky and saying plenty of words that don't advance the plot or characters in a believable way feels like pointless filler. Corsair has had more dialogue than Glob, Xorn, and Ben Liu - all ongoing characters - and all of it served no purpose. You could remove him from this issue without affecting anything. As I said in the intro, stuff happens, but nothing that couldn't be summed up in a few sentences for the next issue.

Now that Corsair has said what he came to say he's wallpaper. Good. Idie and Quentin are looking to support their teammates when fucking Alpha Flight arrive to help (I think?) A Beaubier-less Alpha Flight is not particularly interesting to me, but I like most of them. They all got imprisoned by ORCHIS during Fall of X for supporting mutants. Definitely cool behaviour, and Puck is generally rad (not sure if he's here) but I there's one member who can go fuck himself.

James MacDonald Hudson is the worst. He's ostensibly a hero but he does a lot of reactionary bootlicking. He briefly joined ORCHIS out of fear of mutants but got cold feet when Australia was nearly destroyed. I'll rant about him another time, but woo - Alpha Flight are here to support the X-Men. Maybe the space bullshit will only take up one more issue. It ends there, so we'll find out next time.

Around issue #5 of this run I stated that I was starting to notice the narrative formula. Each issue will focus on a handful of characters while introducing some new crisis, the rest of the team will get a few panels at best, there'll be some action squeezed in somewhere and then it'll end on a cliffhanger. The cumulative effect is that the plot is glacially slow, the characters have one or two defining traits/issues, and most plot points dangle as crisis after crisis gets piled on.

Even the plot points that have been revisited haven't been resolved in any way, like Graymalkin or the ongoing O*N*E cold war. Here's a list of the dangling plot threads and character beats I could think of without rereading.

- 3K and the adult mutants

- Cassandra Nova

- R-LDS

- The Upstarts

- Graymalkin prison

- The O*N*E

- Scott's anxiety attack

- Piper Cobb

- Magik's chess game

- Idie's problems with authority and teamwork

- Magneto. Just Magneto. He's there but has little to say

- The Phoenix

- Beef with Rogue

- King Bedlam's price

Any one of these things would usually be a priority to deal with or at least discuss. I feel like it devalues their importance to just introduce a new problem almost every issue and it makes it harder to get invested in events as they unfold. This issue, for instance - I suspect it'll be resolved next issue and not spoken about again. Or, it will be a drawn out space adventure like the old days and all the Earthly problems will be put on the backburner. Either way it's a problem caused by frontloading all these crises and continually stacking them on top of one another.

There are moments of solid execution and meaningful character work, but when everything is a crisis nothing is. X-Men #11 looks pretty good, as usual, but it's entirely skippable. If you are a big Corsair fan and want 10 pages of him failing a simple task then this book is for you, but if not you can get everything you need from the intro blurb next issue.

[mysteriouslyjovialcolor]

Bahrain 2025

-Lando Norris, what a start?!

-Carlos making up places too!

-Lewis in a Red Bull sandwich

(2021 style, but not in the right places)

-Why has Kimi locked up so much?

-Hate how far back the Saubers fall in the first lap

-I predicted Ollie overtake masterclass and I got it

-Lando false start??

-“For me, he has started beyond where he should’ve” Oh

-LH: “Grip is quite poor on this tire”

Why are the mediums so bad this season?

-Ah yessss Max!

-Haven’t seen Carlos vs Max in so long!!

-[MV: “Lando is over his grid box”

He’s so inspector coded]

-Racing Bulls pitting first

-PG: “Leclerc struggling a lot with the mediums” What is wrong with the mediums fr

-5s penalty

-“He somehow drives everyone else’s cars as well as his” :)

-CL: “These brakes are so inconsistent. They are so annoying”

“Not much we can do now”

-Hello Carlos???

-“This is probably a bit personal for him” Isn’t it just

-Yuki!!

-OP: “Struggling a bit now”

-Oooh nice one Pierre

-Even better one for Kimi

-Come on Max let’s go

-Lando boxing? Thought he was trying to pass George before that

-Max pitting with Pierre

-P17? Shall I cry?

-“Their exit lights are not working” Wonderful. Love that for us.

-Go Mercedes strategy team

-“If you are a Ferrari fan, they’re running 1-2. Wish for a safety car”

-CL: “I think Delta for me”

-CL: “Ah please consider it”

-Nice one Kimi!

-Jack Doohan’s strategy has worked out very well hasn’t it?

-Did Ocon pit yet?

-Need Yuki to somehow get back in the points please and thank you

-God I’m about to stop watching. This is misery inducing

-You know what? Let me just focus on Ollie and forget about the top 10

-“Leclerc then is going to be menacing Norris anytime soon” Some good news?

-Yes Charlesssss

-Ohmygod no

-Whyyyy, come backkkk

-Ohmygod Charles and Lewis simultaneously making movessss!! Yes baby!!!

-“Double Ferrari overtakes” My day suddenly turned around

-I love that Ocon has made it so far up after that qualifying session

-“We’ve got Verstappen in the mid one minute thirty nines and Piastri in the mid one minute thirty six” Just twist in the knife more now why don’t you

-Oh what was that pit stop? You’ve just killed me

-Mercedes three stopping???

-No! I don’t want to look at Max’ stop again! Stop showing it to me!

-Bearman p9 let’s go!

-Also Yuki p6

-If Red Bull messes up Yuki’s stop too, I will lose it (I’m already hanging by a thread)

-Carlos, Yuki, what was that??!

-Safety car! Please let this work out for my guys

-This better work out best for Ferrari

-Ah please Red Bull work for Yuki…Thank youuu

-LH: “Great job with the stops guys. Great job”

-How does Max have fastest lap rn

-Was that incident between Carlos and Yuki just a racing incident?

-Why didn’t Max just pit under SC? With the way his pit stops have been going, how is it smart to pit later? (Maybe he’s just going to the end actually)

-Yessss Lewis Hamiltonnnnnnnn

-Oh bloody hell Lando why

-Yes Yuki in points!

-To LN: “Give back the position”

-Oh Max, finally

-How cool that both Alpine’s are in the points and both Haas too

(Sorry forgot the timing sheets were broken, the other Haas is not in the points)

-LH: “This tire sucks” I feel you babe

-Kimi vs Ollie let’s go

-Whereee did the timing sheets go!? Bring them back rn?

-The hell is wrong with these screens, fix it!

-LH: “The car won’t turn” Excuse me?

-When did Liam cause a collision?

-Oh okay that’s when

-10s??

-Why are we having so many technical issues this race? This is crazy

-Woah? That Williams is not looking good

-Yuki overtake~

-CS: “They should investigate Yuki. Because what he did to me was quite stupid at the exit of Turn 1”

“They did, no further investigation”

-Yeah, don’t think we could’ve kept going with that hole on the side pod

-Love the Red Bull, Haas, Red Bull, Haas lineup

-“Remember to use the drink”

OP: “I would if it was working”

-Me for the last few laps: “Come on Charles, just say no, just say no, just say no (to being overtaken)”

-Me now: “Come on Max, just say yes, just say yes, just say yes (to overtake)”

-My day is clearly going well

-WHY DOES EVERYONE HAVE A DRS PROBLEM

-Did Liam just get another 10s penalty?

-“General DRS gremlin”

Just cancel this whole race at this point

-Just now realizing Oscar is 14s away

-Yess Max, last lap overtake!!

-Ollie points!!

-Aaaah this race must’ve sucked for me but at least we have double Red Bull points and double Haas points!!!

-Laughing over how reactive they’re being in the cooldown room

Crochet

[catgumi]

Fragments of bone, of flesh and viscera, everything was swirling red in different shades. Megumi dropped, hot tears finally rolling, washing away the blood in sanguine rivulets. Shaking hands, picking at pieces, trying to find a way to put everything back together. Make Yuuji from smithereens, but Yuuji had always been less puzzle pieces and more thread. Red thread slipping through his fingers. Red thread frayed where they once connected. Red thread against his throat. 

Megumi wished it killed him, but all it did was hug.

(a continuation of the extract from earlier, bc you asked what happened to yuuji🤧 honestly, highest praise, and i'm so grateful. ive always been majorly insecure abt my writing, to the extent that at one point i just stopped, but im picking it back up slowly. ill link it once it's done, but rest assured, i don't have any longer itafushi fics posted just yet so you're not missing out, trust🤧)

WHATTHE FUCK U BLEW HIM UP . 😭😭😭😭 if thisnisnt hurt/comfort im gna kms.ur writing is genuinely beautiful cs.. 'but yuji had always been less puzzle pieces and more thread' ripping out my hair screaming crying . ur so talented pleas start posting ur work.,., this is gutwrenchingly gorgeous ur writing style is so pretty

[salty-cs]

Lilithsdoll isn't even boo, they're an impersonator just trying to make me look worse. I don't know how to prove that to yall, I didn't even care about this thread until someone showed me the posts and comments from lilith. I've reported them on here and notified staff of the impersonation.

A lot of my opinions are public knowledge anyway, I said I was going to leave kals but I literally changed my mind within a week. I was going through a lot of stress and pain last month. Since then I have offered suggestions to red to try and solve the issues I have with the species, constructive criticism.

The screenshot is edited or they got into my account, I've since changed my password on CS just in case.

I know people just suck and won't believe me anyway, I can't do anything about that. I don't know how to prove they aren't me and that I'm telling the truth. For a second I thought I wouldn't say anything and just take responsibility for their actions anyway, but I don't want to lose everything I have on CS because one person decided they hate me so much.

That's why that post was meant to be anon, because they didn't want to associate their account with me, but they apparently just said screw it and ran off with it, deciding to make me look horrible.

I've messaged Python on the salty-cs thread directly to try and explain, so if there's a way for me to prove who I am, I'll send it there in DMs. I don't even use tumblr, while I made an account I just looked at it every so often. I'm scared and don't really know what to do, I feel sick to my stomach and I'm not the type of person to come here and talk about people behind their backs.

Again, I know I won't be believed, but this is all I can do aside from what I've already tried. I'm sorry for their actions, I'm sorry for my actions, I truly am embarrassed about what happened in the kals server. I was pushed to the end and that little bit was all it took for me to snap. I want to stay in kalons because I love the community, but I kinda want to transfer designs I truly care about out of the species since I don't like things about their designs and can't afford edits right now.

I'm very easy to read, so it can't be hard to make things up about me. To pretend and act the way I do. I'm honestly scared right now. Please leave me alone, I'm just a kid on the internet. I cant even buy alcohol yet and still so many people hate my guts for things I haven't done.

.

[firearmsguns78]

staccato

Staccato 2011 C2 OR 9mm, 3.9″ Barrel, Aluminum Frame, DLC Bull Barrel, Black, 16rd

STACCATO 2011 P

STACCATO 2011 P

Staccato 2011 P 9mm, 4.4″ Bull Barrel, Aluminum Frame, TAS II Rear, Black, 20rd

Staccato 2011 P 9mm, 4.4″ Bull Barrel, Dawson Red FO Front/TAS II Rear, Black, 17rd/20rd

STACCATO 2011 P DPO

Staccato 2011 P DPO 9mm, 5″ Threaded Barrel, CS Frame, Black, 17rd/20rd

Staccato 2011 P OR 9mm, 4.4″ Threaded Barrel, FO Front, Black, 17rd/20rd

Staccato 2011 P OR 9mm, 4.4″ Threaded Barrel, FO Front, Black, 17rd/20rd

Staccato 2011 P OR 9mm, 5″ Bull Barrel, Green FO Front, Ice Compensator, Black, 20rd

[tiredguyswag]

CARMEN SANDIEGO OC WEEK DAY 1: INTRODUCTION

Cause what better way to introduce them than to announce the first chapter of my CS rewrite! Enjoy!

All other posts for this week here on out will be posted on @the-cs-oc-archives, my OC sideblog :3

[seventeendeer]

saw you out in the wild on the cs rarity revamp thread! it's baffling to me that people think better knowing how rare exactly a pet is will make things more confusing.

i am concerned about the visual differentiation getting cluttered with more rarities though. the notches help but the colors are good cause it helps tell things at a glance. i hope the staff adds some patterns in the bars or something if they implement the 4 new rarity system because boy do my eyes hate the yellow-orange zone x.x

haha oh hiiii fellow smooth chicken, that's so fun that you happened on my reply over there! yahh I simply had to defend the 4 new tiers system, I thought it was rad!! I'm nosey as fuck and I want to know what my little dudes are worth and I don't care what happens because of it lolol

you're so right about the colors though, I also hope they do something different than the mockup, all the warm hues bleed together way too much

I'm sure some people would get pissy about this, but I think they should consider repainting all the color bars to make them easier to tell apart ... imagine something like white (omgsc), cyan (e-common), indigo (v-common), dark green (common), light green (uncommon), yellow (v-uncommon), orange (e-uncommon), red (rare), pink (v-rare), purple (e-rare), black (omgsr)

all really different colors easy to tell apart at a glance

it would probably take some getting used to for older users, but ripping off that bandaid would probs be good for the site in the long run

[carpedzem]

“Emma and I were never a predestined love story, guaranteed a happy ending. We fought for our love, and we won”

(amazing drabble from amazing @let-it-raines and my rambling under cut)

☛~~~~☚

Every person is born with a red string around their finger, and once they are old enough to understand, their parents tell them how the string connects them to their soulmate. It’s very literally a tie that binds, a red heart, and the connection is how everyone knows a couple is meant to be.

Emma Swan was born without a red string.

From the first day in kindergarten where she found out she was different than all of her classmates, where she found out that she’d never have a true love like everyone else, she accepted the fact that she’d never have the love she so often craved. She already didn’t have parents. Why would she ever be lucky enough to get to have a soulmate as well?

She wouldn’t, so she never even tried.

But then she was a teenager on the streets trying to survive, and instead of finding a red string, she found a yellow bug with Neal inside. For the first time in her life, she had love, the string be damned.

Until that love abandoned her and left her to spend eleven months in jail, during which she gave birth to her son. He was born with a red string. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at this child she was giving up to give him his best chance, but she saw the telltale sign of red out of the corner of her eye.

Her son would have all of the love she never had. His new parents would give it to him. His soulmate would in the future. He would be loved, and even on what was the hardest day of her life, that gave her peace.

Ten years later when she finds out he isn’t loved, she throws on her red leather jacket, braces herself for the onslaught, and puts someone first in the way that she’s never been put first before. Henry is supposed to have his best chance, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t help give it to him. There may be no string attached to her finger, she may have never been loved properly, but she can give love without having to receive it.

She always has.

It turns out that Henry loves her in return, and he makes Emma her very own string, tying them together and telling her that all she has to do is believe in even the possibility of a happy ending for her to get one. She’s not much of a believer, but when she’s being looked at by this kid with these big brown eyes and a smile that will always melt her heart, how could she not believe that happy endings are out there?

He’s changed her life in every single way.

Two years later, she meets Henry’s history teacher, Killian Jones, and the moment they shake hands in greeting, a red string sprouts from her finger and wraps itself around his gloved hand, pulling them together so that all she can see is the blue of his eyes as her heart pounds wildly in her chest, her mind overwhelming her with thoughts and fears and a tremendous sense of hope that she only ever felt once before when Henry first knocked on her apartment door.

For Killian Jones does not have a left hand for a red string to grow from, but that’s perfectly fine with her when she’s more than happy sharing her newfound piece of twine. It’s been below the surface this entire time, trying to break free, and believing in the possibility of that happy ending has allowed her to find it.

Has allowed them to find it.  

She has so much true, genuine love in her life now, and she’s never letting go of the little knot that’s binding them all together.

☛~~~~☚

So. Yes. If there is one thing you have to know about me is that I love The Red Thread of Fate legend with all my heart. I love how you can take piece of it and create your own magnificent story. You can interpret it in so many ways and I’m a little disappointed how ouat handled it. So I wanted to add a my little interpretation of this. Emma and Killian chose their own fate. They decided to be together and love each other. That’s why their strings are tied. They did it because they decided to.

This is also why Raines drabble is included. She did the same thing. Took just a little piece of whole picture and interpreted it in her own (magnificent, incredible and wonderful I must add) way. That’s why this legends is so important and unique for me. And I heard special someone also working on something. This thread is really powerful!

I wanted to thank @let-it-raines, @darkcolinodonorgasm and @resident-of-storybrooke for patiently allowing me to send them this piece by piece and demanding advices. Tori said they look soft on the second picture and it’s all I ever wanted for them. You are the best, girls 💕💕💕

Now, complaining! I’m aware there is something really wrong on the first picture. It’s my attempt to draw-thing-I’ve-never- drawn-before-and-had-two-breakdowns-during-it. So yeah, it’s not perfect, but I like in anyway! 😊

[maraschinotopped]

god i am SO tempted to snatch the only character from round 1 (aka the beginning of the adoption center, aka 6 YEARS AGO) on an adoption thread on cs and make them edgy with good backstory but im pretty sure what i have in mind is not child friendly enough to put on cs

[u-tokkis]

( 愛 ) 𝑆akura blossoms, fall the same way I fell in love this spring for you 지민。𓂃 ׁ 🌸 ˳ ׂ ࣭

🐰 𖹭. . in love with my sweet angel, we're connected by our red thread, forever 'n ever: you & me ﹫수민

८⑅ ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ ა i belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart 태형! ♡🐻

l𖹭ng bi𖹭s / l𖹭cs

﹫u-tokkis on tumblr

[ltwilliammowett]

Sailors Needlework

Due to the fact that sailors had to mend their own clothes and there was always a sailmaker with his mates, many on board were very talented sewers. Therefore, many of them went beyond simple mending and created their own clothes. Or began to embellish their pieces with embroidery or make presents for their loved ones. Or earning some money on the side with their skills.

Sailor doing needlework, c. 1850 by unknown in: Jack Tar a Sailors Life, by J. Welles Henderson

It is not possible to pinpoint the exact origins, as many pieces have been lost over time.

A knitted wool hat and handsewn pants, from HMS Invincible, 1758, in: The First HMS Invincible (1747-58): Her Excavations (1980-1991), by John M Bingeman

Some pieces date from the 18th century, while most seem to date from the 19th or 20th century. However, it can be assumed that there are also much older examples.

Embroideries

This type of decoration was embroidered with coloured silk or wool threads on the shirts or duffle bags. But also ribbons, bags or money belts were decorated.

Sailor blouse and poke bag, made by George W.W. Dove, c. 1860 - Sailor’s Hats, c. 1850-1900 in: Jack Tar a Sailors Life, by J. Welles Henderson

Then names, mottos, stars, figures, ships, flags or anchors were embroidered on them.

Money belt, c. 1850 in: Jack Tar a Sailors Life, by J. Welles Henderson

Often the work was done in simple chain-stitch and the material was either taken from home or bought in a harbour.

Wollies

This type of embroidery is a very special form of embroidery, the embroidered woolen pictures, called woolies, which have been around since the 1840s. Most of the materials used to make woolies were found on board ships. Sailcloth, duck cloth from sailor's trousers or a simple linen or cotton fabric served as the backing. The runner was usually made from surplus wood with simple mortise and tenon joints, without wedges.

Theatrical curtains, often depicting trade union banners, suggest the artist was a merchant sailor. c. 1875 - HMS Trafalgar, c. 1865 (x)

Only the Berlin wool, cotton or silk had to be brought from home or purchased in a foreign port. The sailors mainly chose vivid colours - especially white, blue, red, brown and various shades of green. Early Woolies are made from naturally dyed wool. After the development of chemical dyes in the mid-1850s, sailors could obtain a wider range of colours at a cheaper price.

HMS Cumberland, c. 1842 - A third rate together with a paddle steamer, c. 1860-1880 (x)

When making a woolie, the sailor sometimes first sketched the outline of the ship and rigging in ink. With only these schematic designs, he then sewed these images freehand directly onto the canvas, using both rudimentary and refined stitches. Indeed, many Woolies show charming liberties taken with the appearance of elements other than the ship.

Multiple ships raise the value of a piece. This one showcases a second-rate ship, fourth-rate ship, frigate, and smaller ship, 1875 - HMS Queen a present from my son, c. 1855 (x) in: Jack Tar a Sailors Life,by J. Welles Henderson

The sailors used a wide variety of stitches, such as cross stitch, chain stitch, darning and the quilting technique called trapunto. Many of these pictures were appropriately made for the dearest ones at home. As the Victorians liked to collect, the pictures quickly became very popular and were often sold.

Knitting

The men on board also did this. Even though it's hard to imagine how old salts sat there and knitted. But for the cold days, the men needed warm clothes and so they knit socks, gloves and scarves.

British sailors knitting or crocheting (and looking like they enjoy it!) during WWI (x)

(Those who have read the Hornblower novels by CS Forester will perhaps remember that in some books it is mentioned that the men sat there and knitted.) It is verifiable that the Sailors knitted from the 18th century onwards, but since this art had also been known since the 13th century, it must have come on board earlier.

[itsdappleagain]

HELLO AND WHAT IS UP GUYS TODAY WE'RE DOING ANOTHER CS WEEKLY POST A DAY LATE

okay enough youtuber intro. gross

ITS TIME FOR THE FISHY DOUBLOON CAPER!! Not my favorite, admittedly, but some great moments in there for sure (see: carmen gets put in a fairly desperate situation for the first time in the series as carmen. nice.)

OKAY HERE WE GO notes under the cut because they're LONG

how cool would the intro have been if carmen's passport had gained a new stamp every episode for the place she went!!!

oh i totally forgot the acme b plot in this episode thats pretty good

s1 chase: not one single red thread to pull s2 chase, buying french michaels out of red string: is that a challenge

it was stuffed in her black sack

i love the mints. they had to set them up so bad so julia could follow them

fuck you chase. maybe if you ate less mints you could be nicer

IN LOVE WITH HOW JULIA GETS FED UP. YES GIRL. FUCK HIM AND HIS FUEL HE DESERVES IT

DAMN ZARI HIT HIM FROM REAL FAR AWAY THAT WEAPON IS NEVER THAT LONG RANGE AGAIN

julia he doesnt deserve you

they sneak "where in the world" into every line they can

have i mentioned the way cs draws water because its all so prettyyy

OH, WET pls

no, player we have to wait two more seasons for argentina ok

"not without any real clues" girl idk where you think clues come from but your birthplace could be a fantastic place to start looking

the equator joke was funny

bananafish? as in the anime? (doesn't know what im talking about at all)

quito!! fun fact: the first highest capital is Bolivia's, La Paz!

NOSE IS BLEEDING? BLOOD? In a KIDS SHOW?

omg they foreshadowed the fucking tuna it nearly smacked carmen..

"surface crew is on high alert!" (pan to zack, barfing)

i love that zack's weakness is the ocean. he grew up in boston. literally being in the home of the fish makes him barf

i love how ivy is not helping at all she's so funny

zack barfs way too many times in this show sorry. they crossed the line when someone shoved her fingers in his barf and squelched em around. no. no thanks. stop making him barf

i have to think this episode was one of the earlier ones abby trott recorded for because she is so violently boston at every turn its hilarious

where the fuck is carmen's air tank. that thing on her back is her water jetpack. where is she breathing from. her tubing is connected to something that is. not big enough to supply her with oxygen for that long

woww the framing of that shot where carmen swims towards the ship...she sounds like she supposed to be very excited about it which i love for her

every single time im like surely she cant fit through that hole and then she does. the reason this is possible is because despite having hips CARMEN HAS NO ASS

i also like the little lookaround she does like idk

GOD the ship is so pretty i love how everyone immediately destroys everything inside of it

carmen "im swimming through the past" sandiego, destroying everything in the fucking ship that she touches

why the fuck is there just a crowbar down there

SHES JUST TOSSING SHIT OUT WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL HISTORY IS TREASURE CARMEN YOU FUCKIN HYPOCRITE

love that player picks up the HGRHGDHSRHRGFGRGRGRGRGRGGWGEGEGERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR of el topo before carmen does

the fact that carmen is not terrified upon hearing, deep underwater, a roaring, grumbling noise coming from nowhere is a testament to how stup

WHEN

SHE JUST GOES FLYING ITS SO FUNNY TO ME AJFGS

see el topo has o2 tanks what the fuck is up with carmen breathing underwater. she has to always be streamlined ig

no way can they fucking hear each other no way nuh uh

HE JUST RAMS INTO HER THATS SO FUNNY

i like how player waits until a very nice time to ask carmen what the fuck just burst out of the floor. little break in the action <3

hi. the way carmen says el topo. thank you (applause)

love how player doesnt warn zack and ivy. theyll be fine he said

obsessed with how le chevre's legs bend like the dancing stick bug meme

OH MY GOD THE PURE GAY ENERGY BLAST OF LE CHEVRE LANDING KILLED THEM

sorry side note ivy is so cute

le chevre is. yeah

I LOVE HOW CARMEN JUST S N A T C H E S HIS ANKLE YOU CAN SEE HER THOUGHT PROCESS ZERO IN ON HIS FOOT

the way carmen moves in the water is sooo satisying shes like a wikki stix she just bends

also love how carmen just bounces off of el topo

i also also love how her flippers just gently wave in the breeze

they just fling each other its so fucking funny. she steps on him. he flings her. she full body crashes into him

like how they just keep an arm around each other for a bit. chilling. buddies

do you think it hurts el topo how much venom is in carmen's voice when she sees him now?

anyways

the fish. wow that really did just happen

she just kicks his ass what did he do to her

ALSO this is one of very few fights where carmen is very actively in hand-to-hand!! she usually tries to avoid it i think...more evasive maneuvers/defense but shes BARELLING into el topo shes just doing everything she fucking can to fling him far distances

bubble transitions <3 its like bubble guppies fr

eternally beyond grateful that they dropped ivys weird. woke feminist how do you do fellow women thing ok sorry the fisherwoman thing was. out of place. le chevre is right there and youre worried about fisherwoman

le chevre, the frenchest fucker alive: you dont sound like youre from around here

the absolute terror on ivy's face is sending me. someone else (jackie?? was that you??) pointed out that she reacts like this because they met le chevre in boston harbor but he happens to not recognize them.....super cool i love that s1 and 2 were written together

not a single braincell in le chevres head

she was really about to try to wrestle and do the heimlech maneuver on an 97 pound fish girl no

she sounds so black sheep when she says "come on seriously" 🥺

NO im calling bullshit no way was carmen able to snatch that pipe in the two seconds el topo bodychecked her carmens got fucking superpowers she does not have pickpocketing abilities she has superpowers

we love the attempted murder <3 thats. so dangerous to do but carmen just is like teehee oxygen is gone!!! hope u dont drown or panic or get decompression illness teehee

the most gigantic tracker in the history of mankind

i like how carmen holds that gun whjhehgshsa if she werent underwater she'd be blowing the smoke off it

they didnt even try to come up with a convincing alias they just went with another california city wheeze

wait how is player connected to that walkie talkie. im pretty sure correct me if im wrong but i think that walkie talkies in ecuador dont connect to ones in ontario

theyre such siblings

gay saves the day once more

AGAIN WITH SHOVING THEM IN THE WATER or wait is this the first time?? TREND SETTING?? i feel like they did it once before this but ig not???

lets motor is the same thing as lets jet

HOLY SHIT THEY WERE SO FAR FROM SHORE

THE BUBBLE TRANSITIONS THIS EP SO TRUE

yes carmen speaking other languages i am of the opinion that she should have spoken so many all the time

she cute

i love how loud carmen is talking "SO ITS AN ECUADORIAN DOUBLOON" also hi dr marquez

I AM LITERALLY SUCH A CHILD THIS SHOULD NOT BE FUNNY TO ME "dick?" "dick." (innocent deer-like blinking) gay-bisexual solidarity

marquez: yeah im leading an excavation tea- carmen: i robbed that fucking boat

the deer in headlights look they give is so funny not one braincell avaliable

the way her accusing them drives them all into terrified scrambling

i also like how marquez just accepts the fact that they robbed the boat because they say theyre coin hobbyists (i mean. she doesnt. she follows them. but still)

i love dr marquez shes so cool. i like her voice also

you know carmen's about to do some craaazy shit when an archaeologist starts talking about history and they zoom in on her eyes going all different directions

zack and ivy being so insensitive is so fucking funny. kids do you know who your boss is

the sibling-like manner in which ivy shoves zack in the face to get out of the boat faster than he does is the funniest thing in the world

GASP! vile has a darker, sexier, even more obnoxious tracker!

lots a shit beeping in this establishment today

chase is such a dumbshit i love him as soon as zari reaches into her jacket he disintegrates. and then he saves it. such grace and talent

chase is just constantly ???????????????????????????

CHIEF! hi chief

what were the handcuffs even for

chase gets kidnapped and hes just like can i go back to work please

VILE DRAMATIC MUSIC DRAMATIC CLOSEUP

damn le chevre just pulled that slick wet thing out hot damn it was still dripping....what? the tracker. the tracker was wet. what did you think i was talking about?

"if carmen sandiego is after this doubloon" YOU GUYS WERE AFTER THE DOUBLOON WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

no. maelstrom never call yourself papa again

el topo just hanging over his shoulder <3

el topo is so cute

I CAN CHASE AWAY THE GOPHERS he so sweet

tfw your boyfriend is kissing ur boss's ass

mael just sitting there listening to them like 👁️👁️

mael is not even evil hes just stupid and petty hes so funny

WOO HOO ALTITTY SICKNESS LETS GOOO KNOCK THAT BITCH OUT

leonardo di caprio stars in the mole of wall street

who in vile was contaminating cheese OH MY GOD WONDER RAT???

i like how chief is just flat out like. yeahh we dont actually. know if they exist or not but we think so we really do

the scrambled brains joke was so funny chief has actually a lot of personality. i would like her if she were real yknow

the way chief snaps back to being formal when chase clears his throat its ok girl hes not important or competent

HAHA there are a lot of tiny callbacks to where in the world sprinkled throughout here that i never really noticed. gee carmen being the leader of vile sure is far fetched. that would never happen

this video is sponsored by crimeNET technology

acme's introduction is actually pretty cool. a third party that could either help or hurt carmen but seem to want her captured either way

love that background dad who shoves a fish into his kid's face

zack's joints cracked more than jo's wtf

the way she goes "fish maharh-" and then passes out gets me every time its so comedic. she doesnt like. step out of the car and in the background, as zack and ivy are chatting, slowly look ill and then pass out, crashing to the floor. zack and ivy run over, terrified. NO she walks out and goes FISH MAHAHRaha.... and then puts her hand on her forehead and faints like a victorian woman and then moans on the floor for thirty seconds

she totally got a concussion from that right

THE PROGRESSION OF CHASE'S VOICEMAIL THIS SEASON FROM THE BIT ABOUT THE LOVESEAT AND ANOTHER THING LATER IS SUCH A GOOD LITTLE DETAIL

hi the way her voice reverberates just slightly in the empty garage. good sound design

omg carmen CAN sweat look jackie

ALSO look at my comic about this because just do

the whiplash of seeing coach brunt and then immediately hearing her speak in a gentle ecuadorian accent

the way raf enunciates words should be studied

chief forcibly transferring him is so funny. no. you have no free will you will be acme right now

mmm she calls out for them immediately <333 they are family. also thee panic at waking up somewhere unfamiliar and alone....what if she thought vile had her again. does she call for them when she wakes up from nightmares. i need to know

HI THIS IS MY FAVORITE FACE CARMEN EVER MAKES

carmens bag ROCKET LAUNCHED those tools across the room DAMN

see i feel like that throwing star had to be 3d it looked 3d?? also why does carmen have throwing stars. also dr marquez is literally the most trusting person on the planet

zack: dont be embarrassed! its ok :) carmen: literally couldnt be more emotionless. literally could not care less about the attention zack is trying to give her. did you find the fucking coin

carmen waiting until they had already wheeled it through the doors to mention it was being wheeled away for comedic effect is such a mood

zack reacting like ivy even though he was literally watching with carmen as the fish got wheeled away

carmen: le chevre. ivy, voice blasting through the halls: AGAIN??

yeah he would id you but he literally tried to skewer these two on a fishhook three hours ago

her face when she says bid to win is so cute

who gave zack the paddle.

150,000 DOLLARS!

ivys look of terror when he says that is so funny

AND CARMEN FACEPALMING

this poor fish market got scammed out of a whole 200 buck fish i hope carmen gave them some money

whats with the flaps in the floor

she WHIPS that poor eel. flytrap could never

LEAVE HIM ALONE

we love carmen pulling out the gun knowing full well the speech wont work

that poor fucking tunafish man

le chevre gets cornobbled

something something el topo on his way to slap some goat cheek something

love how top and bottom dont question why carmen has suddenly given up

i also love el topo taking no credit for slapping him with a fish hes luck uhhh yeah bro its the altitude

the lil whoosh as carmen catches the coin

JULIAS GASP AT THE MINTS

shes like ohhh my god he went into the electrical closet. ohhh fuck

wait a minute if the tube fell out first...how is there still a trail leading from that point. they didnt fall out of the tube so did he just have loose mints in his pocket. or

chief: we are so secretive julia argent: mints

THE ALARM ON ZARI AND JAWLINE'S FACES WHEN JULIA POPS IN IS SO FUNNY THE DISMAY

julia is so starved for compliments that she immediately smiles when the random blue projection who kidnapped chase in a dark closet tells her she's sharp

marquez: someday the world will know your name carmen sandiego marquez, a year later, watching tv: UM I DIDNT MEAN BY STEALING THE CROWN JEWELS HELLO

carmen's 👁️👄👁️ when marquez mentions that shes argentinian is so funny one time as a kid i was talking in my sleep and my mom mentioned the dream that i had been having when i woke up and it scared the shit out of me it was that exact expression

damn... damn these spot the difference games are getting hard

carmen e4: we went our separate ways carmen e9: HOOLY SHIT SHES TRYING TO FUCKING KILL ME

I THOUGHT PLAYER SAID "I HAVE FREAKING NEWS RED"

AW YEAH TRANSITION SENTENCE

GOD SAY GOODBYE OR SOMETHING SHE JUST PUTS THE HOOD UP AND LEAVES

CARMEN "BAD AT SOCIAL INTERACTION" SANDIEGO

like the boat looks 3d too methinks

next episode: team red is permanently blinded as zack drives directly into the sun

okay!! pretty solid episode. one of the classics. not my favorite though it feels a bit like they needed a caper to go with the acme plot and they just threw darts at a map

[rueitae]

Season 2, Episode 4: the fashionista caper

Liveblog for @csweekly

I’d like to start off by saying how blown away I am that the writing team keeps each caper so unique and fresh in a formulaic series. It’s one of my favorite things. I never once find myself truly bored with this show even watching it so many times.

Player….making a My Big Fat Greek Wedding reference? Out of anything they could start the episode with. Not sure what to make of that one besides cultural osmosis. It’s a little before his time.

Love Dash Haber as a villain. Capers not boring and neither are the operatives.

Lol the Cleaners just stop. Don’t react. Move on. Not dramatic enough for their viewing pleasure.

Is this when we get to say “no capes”?

Ever since Paper Star clipped Carmen’s hat once, Carmen is able to save it every time.

Tug of war over the hat is so funny to me.

Carmen doesn’t win all the time. Keeps things interesting.

You know, since it’s coming from Carmen, I legitimately can’t decide if she’s being overtly satirical, or if Coach Brunt actually does knit as a hobby. …no. No way Brunt has the patience. Carmen’s just mad.

APOCALYPSE. One of my favorite Zack moments.

Ahh the home base conversation. Equal parts touching and even mORE guilt wrenching for Shadowsan to hear. “If only I knew more about my past..” If only we could see his face when she says that line.

“The only thread I could pull…” Player making puns literally in his sleep at this point.

Shadowsan filling in Fashion Fest and the team’s REACTION to it. And then just his “Countess Cleo always took an interest.”

Cleo backstory!!! At least a basic one. Just makes me yearn for more. I get the feeling we would have gotten a lot of criminal backstories if we’d had more seasons.

Cookie! I’m glad they had her back for a full caper. Really tho, Carmen totally got her entire look from her LOL. There’s not as much ode to 90s Carmen in this episode through her than the laying it on thick they did in the first. I can’t decide if I like that or I’m disappointed there’s not more. Because in this caper she’s her own thing.

Zack is ALREADY including Shadowsan as dad please I’m so emotional about those two and what it says between the lines of Zack and Ivy’s past. This boy LATCHED onto the first male adult he was allowed to and said “we are going to bond”.

Julia it should be illegal to be this adorable.

Yeah. Different capers like I talked about in the opening paragraph. Going after 16th century gowns. This is a homage to older CS. Always the caper is something historical and unique rather than simply money or jewelry. Keeps the vibe from older iterations.

Also. Again. This entire episode foreshadows the dark red arc, everything leads to it. Brainwashing Carmen was ALWAYS on the table.

Oops. Sorry Zari (Stockholm is totally revenge for this moment)

Ahh and the beginnings of trusting Julia. Carmen’s got her pegged completely. Knows her heart is in it for history, and that whatever act she’s putting on isn’t really her. All that she could glean from their first and only interaction in India. Carmen almost ALMOST knocks her out like Zari, but ever the quick thinker, Carmen takes a chance with the knowledge she’s been given. She’s done the math and needs one more person.

Although I absolutely would have roared if Shadowsan got up on that stage.

The runway scene. Fantastic. And really you get a feel that this is actually the beginning of Julia’s arc in gaining confidence in herself. She already sticks up for herself, but this scene is what cements that 1. Carmen is not the bad guy 2 if she can get on that runway, she can stick her neck out with confidence for what she believes in. She doesn’t waver after this.

Also color theory. Carmen gives her her hat. Julia’s red shirt is gone but Carmen gives her this lifeline of friendship. Literally by verbally putting her in charge she’s telling Julia that she trusts her and wants to let her in on what the team is doing.

Ivy and Zack PLEASE. I love you enough already. You don’t have to go so hard on the runway.

It’s kinda cool how the models still walk like models in between the fighting.

Shadowsan’s strength is literally terrifying

LOL her eyebrow of incredulity to “which modeling agency are you with”

“Hackers can wear white hats after Labor Day” my gosh I love their banter. Everything is building up to Player’s s4 zinger of all time.

This hq idea is SO clever. Literally hiding in plain sight. The most home that Carmen can get right now. It’s my favorite thing.

“Zack got to have gelato and pizza” I love this family.

Huh I wonder if some or most of those silhouettes are based off of older iterations of ViLE operatives.

Such a solid and fun episode.