#swift harbinger

[saline-coelacanth]

Oc Chibi Doodles for Pride Month! I plan on making more of these for some of the other characters as well. These were really simple but still really fun to make

[saline-tournaments]

Oc Shipping Tournament Round 3 (Semi Finals)

Swift X Vixen:

-Swift is chill yet responsible

-Vixen is a thief who like messing with people

-Very much rivals who end up falling in love

Fleet X Techtonic:

-Fleet is energetic and flirty

-Techtonic is very monotone and low energy

-Despite being opposites, they both understand the other so well all the time

[fatuismooches]

Hihi! I love your fragile!reader with Dottie series, I was wondering if you had any plans to ever write smth in which reader finally heals? Since you've mentioned it a coulple of times how both reader and Dottie are a chaos duo that would be a menace to the Traveler.

This is not a request by any means! Just genuinely curious👀👀

Yes i am!! I have a request for fragile! reader starting to recover and get better and I'm definitely planning on writing it soon :3 We had enough angst, time to be happy again! I'm very excited, the idea of them being sidekicks again makes me💓💓

[theteaisaddictive]

lord preserve and keep me the zoomers are trying to argue that picture to burn (taylor’s version)(homophobic version) isn’t homophobic because taylor telling her friends her ex is gay just means they’ll think he’s not available and only wants to be friends 💀💀 i know the media literacy is dead take is very annoying but truly they must live in some kind of gay utopia to be misinterpreting the lyrics to this extent

[allyouzombies]

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city reminds me SO MUCH of the end of Yeats's The Second Coming: And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, / Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

[anantaru]

・✶ ｡ synopsis — fucking your enemy doesn't really sound like a good plan or wait, maybe it does! <3

warnings — enemies to lovers, fingering, playful childe, fem! reader

childe always approaches you with that damn smirk on his face, his gaze intense and unwavering, a sprinkle of confidence playing on his lips.

the harbinger had always been your enemy, the embodiment of danger and excitement, and despite the many battles the both of you had fought, you couldn't lie to yourself but admit that there was an undeniable pull between you— a connection you refused to acknowledge, even to yourself at times.

"ah, you fought well today," childe's was barely out of breath as he throws his hands up in the air to feign defeat, his voice low and husky, a dangerous edge to his tone, "but you're not as strong as you think you are, heh."

without batting your lashes, you glare back at him with your body tense of anger, every single nerve inside on edge, "—and you're still as arrogant as ever, childe."

fuck, how much he adored it whenever you showed him a little of your sweet temper, it's a little salty too but he doesn't mind that— in fact, it gets him going and arouses something deep below.

naturally his smirk widens the moment you say it, his eyes darkening with something far more primal that he'd originally let on, "me? arrogant? oh am i? or am i just confident?"

you roll your eyes and before you could even find a good enough response, he instantly closes the distance between you in a swift stride— without haste, folding your spirit in half with his presence becoming overwhelming.

in an attempt to turn around and leave his hand grabs towards your arm, gripping your wrist with a surprising gentleness that was never experienced before by you, yet with the strength you've known far too well, one that left no room for escape.

"you think you can hide it from me? i can see it in your eyes, you know," he murmurs underneath his heightened breathing, slanting towards your face closer and closer until you could feel his warm breath against your ear, "the way you look at me, you see? the way your body reacts when I'm near like that— ugh, you're so shy, but I know you've been dreaming about this, as have i, or haven’t you?"

your heart races at the absurdity in his sentence— or was there even a sprinkle of a lie inside of it? how long until you cannot run from the feelings you harbored for him anymore? or was it simply lust that kept the drive inside of yourself working.

a mixture of fear yet also excitement floods your senses— you really wanted to deny it, to push him away, but the truth was, his words struck a deep chord within you, you're doomed and yes, in fact, you had dreams about him— of feeling him inside you, feeling his cock twitch and thicken while he's grinding himself in you, fucking your tight cunt as the fantasies of surrendering to the raw, forbidden desire consumed you.

you knew he must be good in bed, amazing even, there was no chance in hell that he wasn't with that striking personality of his.

"cut the crap childe, i don't know what you're talking about," you stammer back, but my dear, don't you hear? your voice betrayed you just this second, right in front of his eyes as you began to tremble with the weight of your secret longing dying to be set free.

"oh? but i think you do," he whispers before saying your name so sensually that it felt like someone's set your body on fire.

the man continues as his lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck;

"you've wanted this for so long, right? this—"

and before you could muster a response, his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss that made your brain rewire, the touch of his lips strong and ruthless as one hand slid up to cup the back of your head, holding you firmly in place.

you weren't surprised by how childe kissed you, in fact, you imagined how it felt like— granted, it was better than you originally fantasized.

the kiss was rough, as if he was looking for an answer, and it shattered the last bit of your very resistance as you kissed him back with equal fervor, your body igniting with a fire you had tried so hard to suppress— yet, was it actually bad that you went against your own beliefs? just this once?

of course, you both were on different sides, supporting different agendas but this— fuck, this, it felt so good, why was the darkness childe expelled so mesmerizing? like biting into a poised apple and still relishing in getting tainted?

the harbingers hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, as if he had every right to do this and his touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine before he pushed you against the cold stone wall, the contrast between the cool surface and his heated skin only heightening your needful senses.

although before going further, he abruptly stopped the kiss, at last lapping across your bottom lip and seeking your gaze, "tell me you want this, i need this," he growls against your lips, his hands gripping your hips with a bruising energy, "tell me you've dreamed of this moment too."

you close your eyes and take a deep breath, a shaky whimper escaping your lips as you felt the grip on you tighten. each one of his touch, his breath hitting your skin and his words played into your beating heart and you couldn't, you just weren't able to stop your body from liking this.

your back arches a little as to show him without words, without needing to admit it— right now, you weren't sure if you could ever say it out loud.

like snowfall, his touch was cold, but it felt oddly comforting.

but you let him move forward as one hand slips beneath your clothes, finding your wetness between your thighs, your folds messed up and puffy for him. "childe i— i... i want this too," you admit against your own volition, the words tumbling out before you could even stop them, "i’ve dreamed of you, childe, maybe..."

you got him now— or, does he have you wrapped around his finger instead? regardless, his eyes blaze with a glistening triumph hanging over his irises as he captures your lips again.

he begins slowly, his fingers working around your hole with expert precision, circling your entrance and collecting your slick with such precision which you originally only knew of his ways of fighting as he coaxes out every inch of your pleasure.

you're writhing and hiding your moans into his chest, the volume of your whimpers growing when he pokes one finger in.

with a growl, he rips your shirt aside to expose your breasts, the fabric tearing in his haste— and before you knew it, his own jacket followed as you helped discard them quickly.

"look at me," he commands, "feel how i touch you there," as his voice resembles a rough whisper.,"i want to see the look in your eyes when i touch and touch you,"

you obeyed, meeting his gaze, your breath hitching as he thrusts one finger into you with a single, powerful flick forward.

the sensation was immediately overwhelming, not due to the fact that he was beginning to stimulate your hole with fast thrusts of his digit fucking in and out of you but the sole thought of childe doing it was the final nail in the coffin.

your heart was beginning to hurt from riding his fingers, furiously rattling against your ribcage as you threw out the last amount of dignity you had inside your body, becoming one with the movements of his hand before starting to seek it.

his wet tongue drags from your neck towards your collar bones before reaching your nipples, immediately taking one in his mouth as the heel of his hand began to press into your clit painfully hard, the feeling only multiplying when you shoved yourself into it more, better and deeper, until your body flashes you with a heat you cannot escape.

one more finger, more, and each pump turned rougher and moredemanding with the pace of his hand being relentless, cruel as you almost climaxed by just looking at him— how his wet lips left a trail of saliva on your slicked chest and ugh, that delirious glimmer in his eyes. 

childe truly likes the feeling of you clenching around his knuckles, he might become addicted to it, and he believes he'd actually die a happy man if he'd be able to feel you squeeze around his thick cock like that.

but you have to do it just like that, with your pussy drooling over his desperately and touch depraved, so he could taste you right after, yeah? have you all around his tongue.

he's not sure if he can even fit inside, ah, how excited he gets when he imagines your eyes glow and turn all big and pretty when he lets you see him from below his clothes— he knows for a fact he will make it fit.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hey I really love your writings and drawings, could I request a capitano one shot, where he meets the embodiment of death on a battlefield and after some time they fall in love, please. I hope you have a great day/night.

(anon, you are literally speaking my language rn, because I had that same idea. Hope I did it justice ❣ slight enemies to lovers, fluff, reader hinted to have abyss powers) 

✦ A dance between the unyielding & the unconquerable

✧ The current Pyro Archon, Mavuika, harbored a profound distaste for dealing with You and Il Capitano.

Not because of the obvious concerns such as the 1st Harbinger jeopardizing the safety of the gnosis, or you being an entity of abyssal nature. But because currently, the two of you stood in the grand arena exchanging too many… pleasantries. 

“To see you grace this battle arena with your might is truly an honor no man can ever hope to achieve. I'm looking forward to witnessing your grandeur once more.” 

The Captain held your hand in his armored one, his helmeted head leaned for a reverence kiss, knowing well these same hands could end him if you so desired. You mirrored his polite gentleness and smiled with a soft bow - “Nonsense, the honor is all mine to see you in action.” 

Mavuika was already removing her red optics and sighing dejectedly. They will never get this over with. She saw a fair share of competitive banter between opponents in her time: tense bickering, respectful encouragement, or excited chatter. But witnessing the stoic, stern Harbinger exchanging smitten words with his immortal enemy? You two looked more like a couple ready to slow dance. 

Perhaps your and Capitano's everlasting rivalry always resembled a dance. 

✧ Centuries ago, when the enigmatic faceless Fatuus first acquired the title of “The Captain”, he was employed by The Jester for one simple task – Find you and eliminate you. You resembled a simple mortal, yet one gaze at your eyes, and the vision of abyssal hell could be reflected. The personification of oblivion, strolling the surface of Teyvat innocently, leaving no trace behind yet appearing soundlessly. 

Your first exchange with him proved uneventful, as well. “A Fatui… Harbinger? What's that?” - was all you said back then. Nonetheless, Capitano knew he shouldn't underestimate your anomalous powers, he is a powerful man himself, and his blade knows no deception. 

He almost died that day. 

Years passed, and the scars or toils of your battles with him remained. With constant expedition to the abyss, The Harbinger ventured between realms seeking you out for revenge. Each time you crossed paths, the outcome remained the same - a polite exchange, followed by earth-shattering battles where both of your weapons clash and bodies are exerted. However, was the Harbinger seeking you out of his obligation for the Fatui, or because you were the only one who witnessed his full might? Perhaps, because you were the one to draw scars along his skin, a fair result of the duels he ignited. Or because only you knew of the thrill the two of you provided when battling? 

When bodies are taught with swift agility, blood surges hot with each evade. He feels your movement, swift and soundless, yet each murderous blow carries elegance as you fight him. This wasn't a gentle dance where he'll hold your delicate hand, and guide you on the ballroom floor by the waist. No, even if he secretly wished to. Alas, this was a dance where you would crush him to his knees, feel his sword pinning back against your weapon, holding his knuckles to block his direct attack. 

And he loved every second of it. The way you moved effortlessly, mirrored his excitement and triumphantly knocked him to the floor, or used your abilities to loom over him. The Captain makes sure that all his attacks are up close and personal against yours. 

✧ At times, when fate mockingly sends him back following your shadow, he’d encounter you in less hostile places. You sat at some ledge of a cliff, not far away from the People of the Springs tribe, your head raised to look at the fake stars of Teyvat. The Harbinger knew there were civilians nearby, initiating the usual duels would be unwise. Instead, he would sit next to you and raise his helmeted face at the taunting stars that brought you together. It was a rare moment of solitude, to see your figure next to him, so human-like and simple. Even he feels so human in your presence. 

And on such quiet, gentle nights – you two would just talk. Legs inching closer to sit close by. A hand gently placed on top of another. Silhouettes of two faces leaning tenderly into one, unseen by the dark sky as they exchange silent kisses. 

It was a foolish fate, for the immovable to fall in love with the indestructible. Thus, this was your life with the 1st Fatui Harbinger.  

✧ Going back to the present with Mavuika; the Pyro Archon received reports that not only did the Fatui send their strongest Harbinger, but the Abyss also sent their most formidable entity. For Natlan, this would be grave news, but as she delves deeper into understanding the two of you, the pieces of the puzzle start to fit together. How come the Captain is always conveniently there when you are sighted? How come when you two are supposedly meant to clash, no actual devastations happen? 

Instead, Il Capitano stays close to you. His armored hand is often clasped around yours to kiss the skin that can shower the world with annihilation. He'd drape his coat over your figure protectively, shielding you from stranger's fearful stares. You never liked unwanted attention, only he had the right to bask you in his. And most importantly, he'd kneel beside you so you may cup his helmeted face and bestow upon him tender kisses on his pitch-black visage.

Perhaps Mavuika has nothing to worry about. If the immovable cancels out the indestructible, then you two are not here to wreck chaos onto Natlan. Maybe you two are using it as a honeymoon destination. 

-

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Differnt anon but i love the swimsuit top falling off imagine, can we see it with Cater, Vil, Rook, Malleus and Lilia please?

Cater Diamond:

Cater had been mid beach selfie, striking a cute pose when he heard your cry of shock. His head whipped around and he became pink up to his ears, whipping his head the other way just to meet the prying eyes of others on the beach. He’s struggling to come up with a plan but finally points in a direction and gasps, yelling out a random influencers name and hoping their follower count was legit enough that they’d be known by the general public. It worked well enough that you were no longer the center of attention, an excited crowd forming and looking for the rare celebrity sighting while Cater rushed over to you. The crisis had been averted as you found your top, mumbling you’d just be lounging on the blanket the rest of the time. Later, when he’s sorting through his photos, he’s reminded of the moment as he caught the exact moment your top fell off, his face growing red as he hurriedly deleted the picture.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia is no stranger to accidental nudity, these old eyes have seen some things in his many years on this planet, and it doesn’t leave him feeling any specific type of way. He can see that you don’t share the philosophy of ‘oh well’ when something embarrassing happens and does his best to save you, summoning a sudden wave that crashes onto shore and almost washes away some of the beach gear the gawkers had left unattended while ogling. He walked up to you with your top in hand, humming as he did; he held up a towel to cover you while you put your top back on, chuckling as he commented he knew the day would be interesting when you asked to spend it together.

Malleus Draconia:

The storm clouds that appear just as you’re kneeling on the ground, desperately searching for your top before others start pointing you out, was a blessing in disguise. Most beach-goers are too shocked by the sudden change of weather to pay you any mind and it leaves you with plenty of time to find your top, which Malleus casually stepped over to help you with. You feel embarrassed again because a prince of all people was witnessing you in such a state, but Malleus paid it no mind, seeming more protective than judgmental in the moment. You don’t catch any hint that he was the cause behind the storm, the clouds clearing away as he helped you tie your top back on and asked if you were ready to continue your stroll in a more secluded place along the beach.

Rook Hunt:

Rook had seen the unraveling as it begun, but you had not heeded his warnings of the top not being tied securely as every time you tugged it seemed to stay in place. He kept a diligent eye on you, not like there was anything else as striking as you on this beach regardless, but he does find himself failing in his duty when you point out a group of dolphins frolicking close to shore. When he hears your gasp he already knew what happened, his brain calculating in mere seconds that the disastrous future he had predicted had come to be. With a swift movement he removes the towel from your bag he’d been carrying, holding it over your chest and requesting just a moment to allow him to find the harbinger of chaos that was your swimsuit top.

Vil Schoenheit:

This was the issue with fashion these days. There was no practicality even in swimsuits, and while Vil lacked a real opinion on most beach outfits, he found yours seemed flimsier than most. It wasn’t quite a warning but he was unsurprised to see the top had pulled loose and left you in the middle of the beach, covering your chest and frantically looking around for your top before your humiliation limit was reached. He knew you’d rather be buried in the sand but he snapped his fingers to draw your attention, telling you to stay calm as it would attract less attention that way. He walked around you and finally found it half-buried in the sand, scolding you as your panic had nearly buried the only thing that would stop the staring. He suggested a nice cover-up next time, just to have a back-up plan should a swimsuit fail you again.

[mistywaves98]

How would Harbinger Scaramouche react to coming home to fem!reader sprawled out on his bed after a tough day?

Like-

Imagine fem!reader's wearing the lingerie Scara picked out 🤯

✧･ﾟ:* ->Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Super soft smut, Soft! Scara, Petnames (my love, sweetheart, all that sappy stuff), Very vanilla, Reader wears lingerie!

Scaramouche's tired eyes widened at the sight he was met with as he entered the cozy little bedroom the two of you shared. You were sprawled out on the mattress, intricately- patterned fabric adorning your skin. Not to mention it was one of his favourites that he couldn't bare to tear off you since he wanted you to be able to wear it again. Your eyes were closed, chest moving up and down with each breath you took.

His eyes softened despite the exhaustion plaguing his body. You must have fallen asleep while waiting for him, poor thing. Scaramouche's feet thudded against the floor as he made his way to the edge of the bed before sitting down on it. He took a moment to admire your sleeping form. The way the lingerie accentuated your curves was mouth-watering and the see-through parts made his cheeks flush.

The piercing gaze of his eyes was enough to stir you awake and your eyes fluttered open and met his dilated ones. A soft smile etched its way onto your face as you reached out a hand towards him,"Welcome home, Scara.. Hope you liked the surprise I prepared for you.." "My love.." He began and then trailed off, his eyes falling to your outstretched palm. He brought up his own and intertwined it with yours, and in a swift motion he shifted his position so that he was now on top of you. His fingers intertwined with both of your hands as he pinned them to the sides of your head gently.

"My love... This is perfect, you're perfect. So dolled up and ready for me. Bet you're already wet just thinking about this moment, hm?" A smirk stretched across his face as he lowered it to yours, adoring the rosy colour that bloomed across your cheeks. Before you had a chance to answer, his lips captured yours in a sensual kiss that swallowed up any words you attempted to speak. You moaned, his tongue using the opportunity to slip into your mouth, exploring the wet cavern.

The kiss was so slow and passionate, lidded eyes gazing into the other's. Scaramouche situated himself between your legs, clothed erection eagerly gyrating against your barely covered pussy. In return, your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to which he groaned as a response. After what felt like an eternity, the kiss was broken. The two of you breathed heavily, trying to catch your breath. Loving looks were exchanged before he pulled back a bit to admire the curve of your breasts accentuated by the lacy fabric.

He couldn't resist bringing his hands down to cup them, slowly fondling and kneading the plush mounds. A shaky exhale left you as every squeeze made your clit throb, pussy getting wetter by the second,"S-scara—" "Shh, let me enjoy you, my love," Scaramouche gently shushed you with a finger on your lips, unable to get enough of your chest. He pulled down the lace, allowing them to bounce free before enveloping your left nipple with his warm mouth.

You groaned, hands going to the back of his head to pull him closer, eliciting a pleased noise from him in return as he sucks on the erect bud. His right hand comes up to tweak the other one, giving it an occasional pinch just to hear your adorable squeaks. When he's finally satisfied, he releases your puffy nipple with a pop, looking up at you through lidded eyes. The intimate eye contact makes you blush as you notice a couple strings of saliva connecting his lips to your skin.

The sound of rustling is heard as he discards his clothing, till he was bare before you. Your cheeks blushed bright red at the sight of his erect cock, tip already leaking with precum. He notices your staring and smirks,"Enjoying the view, hm? Hope you enjoy how it feels too," He snickers to himself as he takes both of your legs and places them on his shoulders, leaning over till you're practically folded in half with your knees against your chest. He lines himself up with your entrance before pushing in slowly.

You moaned as you felt him accommodate every inch inside of you with his thick girth, the head of his cock just barely nudging your sweet spot. Scaramouche groaned as you clenched around him, his cheeks tinting pink as he started to move,"Oh fuck— You feel so good, sweetheart... Taking all of me so well.." The praise made you whimper, hands reaching up to find purchase on his back. His pace was slow at first, giving you time to adjust before he sped up a bit.

Your body rocked back and forth with each thrust, quiet whines and pleas for more spilling from your lips that mingled with Scaramouche's own moans and grunts of pleasure. His hands fisted the sheets beside your head, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt your nails rake across his skin. The sound of skin meeting skin and the sickeningly sweet squelch of his length sliding back into your greedy pussy.

He let his head fall beside yours, hair tickling your skin as he whispered endless praises that went straight to your throbbing clit. "S-scara—..! I'm.. Mngh! 'M so close..!" You cried as you felt the knot in your stomach threatening to snap. He smiled as he heard those words, bringing a hand down to roll your sensitive bundle of nerves between the pads of his fingers, feeling you arch your back in response. "Then cum with me, my love.. Let me see you gush around my cock..." Scaramouche said breathlessly, lifting his head up so he could get a clear view of your face.

Hearing you moan for him was almost enough to send him over the edge, cock pulsing inside you as it ached to paint your walls with his cum. The added stimulation to your clit sent you reeling, eyes shutting tightly as you came on his cock, feeling a wave of warmth flood you right after as he filled you to the brim with his seed. Scaramouche leaned in to capture your lips in a sensual kiss, swallowing up your cries as he rode out both of your highs together.

He gave a couple more thrusts for good measure before finally stopping and pulling out. His eyes lingered on the mix of your essence dribbling out of your used cunt, feeling pride within himself as he lay next to you. The two of you were a mess, but satisfied. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest as he buried his face in your disheveled hair, one hand stroking your back soothingly,"You did so well for me.. Let's just stay like this, yeah? God, I love you so much..."

[yan-critter]

Yan!Childe x GN!Reader (Smut, Dubcon, Overstimulation, Stalking, No gendered terms but reader is receiving)

Childe, who is far too eager to finally be alone with you.

Cornered in some dingy backroom at the Northland Bank, his overzealous nature has him on you the moment the door closes.

☆－★－☆－★＋☆－★－☆－★＋☆－★－☆－★

His hands roaming, face immediately slotted into the junction of your neck as he huffs and pants. He groans at your scent, the warmth emanating from your skin. How pliant it is under his weight, practically welcoming him as the softness of your hips dents beneath his fingers.

He hopes you are equally receptive.

Before you can even figure out what's happening, how and when the harbingers' apparent infatuation with you began, he has you on the floor.

You yelp, the swiftness of the movement leaving you even more confused than before. It's all so sudden! I mean, you've hardly even spoken to the man, much less expressed romantic interest, and now he's straddling you in some random storage closet with a lustful look in his eyes that you don't need to look.. down, to confirm.

Childe, on the other hand, has been waiting for this moment for months. First encountering you on an outing with Zhongli, he developed a keen interest in the cute local hopping around the market. He spiraled quickly thereafter, following you home, taking souvenirs from your belongings, even getting you a job somewhere within his reach (unbeknownst to you, of course). His obsession consuming his mind until it was clouded with thoughts of only you.

Honestly, he would've preferred something more official. Taking you home and properly wining-and-dining you until you willingly bared your body to him, for him to worship like it deserved. But when the opportunity arose, Childe's waning resolve crumbled and he simply couldn't pass up this chance to have you.

Seeing you finally where you belong, so adorable beneath him, brings a sense of euphoria that leaves the man reeling.

But he's sure he can find a way to get that high again. For both of you.

You squeal as his hands start to fumble with your clothing, and he rumbles a low growl at the noise. Always so cute for him, making such pretty sounds when he hasn't even started yet. His hands make quick work of your button up and he wastes no time, lips quickly securing around your nipples as the rough pads of his fingers explore your skin.

You whine, the heat building in your belly as he slurps loudly. Childe doesn't seem particularly experienced, but his hungry demeanor makes up for it. He's messy, drooling all over your chest like he can't get enough, nibbling and kissing the skin. You can't help but flush at the idea that he needs you that badly, almost greedy in his actions.

You squirm at the thought.

Childe pulls back at your writhing, deciding he's given your chest sufficient attention, now shining with remnants of his spit and dappled with hickeys and bites marks alike. He admires it proudly for a moment, before moving to slide down your pants.

You only manage a meager "Wait I'm not-" before he has his lips on yours, shushing you with a kiss. He pulls your pants down to your knees, slipping his hand between your legs and rubbing you through your underwear as his tongue works into your mouth. You whimper at the sensation, overwhelmed by it all. You're still not sure what's happening, but you have to admit you've always found Childe attractive, even if his playful charm is a little lost on you when he's acting like a feral dog.

He takes the chance to slip your pants and underwear off while you're lost in thought. Pulled out of your stupor, you scramble to stop him, grabbing at his scarred arms. Childe, of course, is unphased and doesn't even bother shaking you off in favor of focusing on undressing you. It makes sense, he is a harbinger after all, he's bound to be strong. But you feel a little hurt that he didn't so much as budge, the stark difference in strength wounding your pride.

With your clothes out of the way, he pulls you into another long kiss and spreads your legs. Your throat itches with the urge to breathe, but Childe quickly grips your jaw to stop you, amusement dancing in his eyes as you go lightheaded. Your eyes roll back ever so slightly, lips locked together, and he can tell you won't last much longer.

He finally relents, planting a quick peck on your cheek before leaning back. You look so delicious like that, starry-eyed and panting, and while he would love nothing more than to kiss you dizzy, he thinks he'd love your noises more. Lithe fingers tease the rim of your entrance, and he bites his lip as the first finger dips into your heat. You shiver at the intrusion, and he groans.

"Mousy little thing, aren't you? Only a single finger and you're shaking.." he mutters, and for a second you think he's talking to you. As your breathing begins to steady, you look down to answer him and instead find him staring at your heat, fascinated by the sight of his finger entering you.

But Childe has never been a patient man, and before long he's pumping three large fingers in and out of your squelching heat, curling just right to make you mewl. He's observant, noting every little bump and ridge within you that has you melting into his touch, bucking into your thigh as he watches you. Your back arches like a bow and you can feel the tight coil in your belly ready to snap. So close so close so close so-

"Oh no sweet thing, not yet", he coos, and before you can reach your peak, Childe pulls his fingers out with a satisfied hum. A sharp whine leaves you at the man's cruelty, but your complaints are cut short with the sound of his belt clanking to the floor. Your eyes widen, suddenly pulled out of your haze because it's all becoming too real now.

...And yet, you can't deny the spike of arousal as his length finally comes into view.

A slight curve, big even in comparison to his large hands, and a peachy pink at the end leaking dewy white pearls. It only occurs to you then that he had yet to relieve himself at all, neediness building in him the entire time from neglecting to focus on anything but you. It's flattering, really, having someone want you so unabashedly. Realizing that maybe you like the attention, especially coming from someone as high-caliber as Childe, you decide to offer him a.. mercy, of sorts.

With the hesitant motion of your spreading legs, Childe's final restraint snaps.

Within an instant, he sinks himself into you in a single swift motion, tossing your legs over his arms. You choke out a moan, the overwhelming fullness inside you clouding your mind. He whimpers, the feeling of your pulsing walls and the joy of finally finally claiming you proves to be too much for him. Blushing and brows furrowed, he pouts at you.

"I'm sorry baby, I really am," Childe insists, and you cock your head in confusion. "I wanted to be gentle for our first, but I can't hold back any longer".

"I think I might break you, but you'll forgive me, right?"

Wait, what?

Before you know it, he's pummeling into your core like a man crazed, punching rhythmic little "ah, ah, ah's" out of you with every cant of his hips. His movements are nearly punishing, hard and fast and mean, leaving you breathless and only able to simply lay there and take it. It makes it that much easier for his girth to bully into you, practically spearing you open as your eyes flutter shut. You're brainless by this point, and his relentless thrusting has you quickly reaching your peak, much to his delight.

As you feel yourself tipping over the edge, Childe's mouth finds your nape, and he bites. Your eyes shoot open at the sensation, pain and pleasure shocking your system and amplifying your orgasm until it's practically forced out of you. He licks your wound, nursing you through it, and his hips slow as if to ease your fried nerves. But your moment of reprieve is short-lived and before you've even come down from your high all the way, he's back at it. Pounding into you, with a bruising grip on your waist as you hiccup pathetically beneath him.

So cute.

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

It's nearly two hours later that Childe gives you a break, smug and satiated having made you come for the umpteenth time. A lovesick sigh leaves him as he traces the marks on your skin, content knowing that he had wrung you dry of everything you could give him.

Looking up at him through your damp lashes, you shiver.

A large grin plastered on his face, eyes wide and unblinking as he gazes at you with unrestrained giddy. You were his now, thoroughly claimed and his to adore. And as he reaches out and gathers you into his arms, Childe has only one thing on his mind.

"Let's go home ♡"

☆－★－☆－★＋☆－★－☆－★＋☆－★－☆－★

My first full length fic, let me know what you think! Might make a part two with Zhongli if you guys are interested :)

[saline-coelacanth]

I started replaying Miitopia but with my Half Magic characters, so don't be surprised if I make more silly doodles based on that

[saline-tournaments]

Oc Shipping Tournament Third Place Match

Tara X Trixie:

-Tara is confident and reliable

-Trixie is chaotic and fun loving

-They have a surprisingly stable relationship despite how different their personalities are

Swift X Vixen:

-Swift is chill yet responsible

-Vixen is a thief who like messing with people

-Very much rivals who end up falling in love

[turnstileskyline]

The Oral History of Take This To Your Grave – transcription under the cut

The pages that are just photographs, I haven't included. This post is already long enough.

Things that happened in 2003: Arnold Schwarzenegger became governor of California. Teen Vogue published its first issue. The world lost Johnny Cash. Johnny Depp appeared as Captain Jack Sparrow for the first time. A third Lord of the Rings movie arrived. Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman, and Andy Hurley released Take This To Your Grave.

"About 21 years ago or so, as I was applying to colleges I would ultimately never go to, Fall Out Boy began as a little pop-punk side project of what we assumed was Pete's more serious band, Arma Angelus," Patrick wrote in a May 2023 social media post.

"We were sloppy and couldn't solidify a lineup, but the three of us (Pete, Joe, and I) were having way too much fun to give up on it."

"We were really rough around the edges. As an example of how rough, one of my favorite teachers pulled me aside after hearing the recording that would eventually become Evening Out With Your Girlfriend and tactfully said, 'What do you think your best instrument is, Patrick? Drums. It's drums. Probably not singing, Patrick.'"

"We went into Smart Studios with the Sean O'Keefe... So, there we were, 3/5 of a band with a singer who'd only been singing a year, no drummer, and one out of two guitarists. But we had the opportunity to record with Sean at Butch Vig's legendary studio.

"Eight or so months later, Fueled by Ramen would give us a contract to record the remaining songs. We'd sleep on floors, eat nothing but peanut butter and jelly, live in a van for the next three years, and somehow despite that, eventually play with Elton John and Taylor Swift and Jay-Z and for President Obama and the NFC championship, and all these other wildly unpredictable things. But none of that would ever come close to happening if Andy hadn't made it to the session and Joe hadn't dragged us kicking and screaming into being a band."

Two decades after its release, Take This To Your Grave sits comfortable in the Top 10 of Rolling Stone's 50 Greatest Pop-Punk Albums, edging out landmark records from Buzzcocks, Generation X, Green Day, The Offspring, Blink-182, and The Ramones.

It even ranked higher than Through Being Cool by Saves The Day and Jersey's Best Dancers from Lifetime, two records the guys in Fall Out Boy particularly revere.

Fall Out Boy's proper full-length debut on Fueled by Ramen is a deceptively smart, sugar-sweet, raw, energetic masterpiece owing as much to the bass player's pop culture passions, the singers deep love of R&B and soul, and their shared history in the hardcore scene as any pioneering punk band. Fall Out Boy's creative and commercial heights were still ahead, but Take This To Your Grave kicked it off, a harbinger for the enduring songwriting partnership between Patrick Stump and Pete Wentz, the eclectic contributions from Joe Trohman, and the propulsive powerhouse that is Andy Hurley.

The recordings document a special moment when Fall Out Boy was big in "the scene" but a "secret" from the mainstream. The band (and some of their friends) first sat down for an Oral History (which doubled as an Oral History of their origin story) with their old friend Ryan J. Downey, then Senior Editor for Alternative Press, upon the occasion of the album's 10th anniversary. What follows is an updated, sharper, and expanded version of that story, newly re-edited in 2023. As Patrick eloquently said: "Happy 20th birthday, Take This To Your Grave, you weird brilliant lightning strike accident of a record."

– Ryan J. Downey.

A Weird, Brilliant Lightning Strike Of A Record. The Oral History Of Fall Out Boy's Take This To Your Grave.

As told by:

Patrick Stump

Pete Wentz

Joe Trohman

Andy Hurley

Bob McLynn - Crush Music

Sean O'Keefe - Producer/Mixer

John Janick - Fueled By Ramen

Tim McIlrath - Rise Against

Mani Mostofi - Racetraitor

Chris Gutierrez - Arma Angelus

Mark Rose - Spitalfield

Sean Muttaqi - Uprising Records

Rory Felton - The Militia Group

Richard Reines - Drive-Thru Records

"To Feel No More Bitterness Forever" - From Hardcore to Softcore, 1998-2000

PETE WENTZ: When I got into hardcore, it was about discovering the world beyond yourself. There was a culture of trying to be a better person. That was part of what was so alluring about hardcore and punk for me. But for whatever reason, it shifted. Maybe this was just in Chicago, but it became less about the thought process behind it and more about moshing and breakdowns. There was a close-mindedness that felt very reactive.

TIM MCILRITH: I saw First Born many years ago, which was the first time I saw Pete and met him around then. This was '90s hardcore - p.c., vegan, activist kind of hardcore music. Pete was in many of those bands doing that kind of thing, and I was at many of those shows. The hardcore scene in Chicago was pretty small, so everyone kind of knew each other. I knew Andy Hurley as the drummer in Racetraitor. I was in a band called Baxter, so Pete always called me 'Baxter.' I was just 'Baxter' to a lot of those guys.

JOE TROHMAN: I was a young hardcore kid coming to the shows. The same way we all started doing bands. You're a shitty kid who goes to punk and hardcore shows, and you see the other bands playing, and you want to make friends with those guys because you want to play in bands too. Pete and I had a bit of a connection because we're from the same area. I was the youngest dude at most shows. I would see Extinction, Racetraitor, Burn It Down, and all the bands of that era.

WENTZ: My driver's license was suspended then, so Joe drove me everywhere. We listened to either Metalcore like Shai Hulud or pop-punk stuff like Screeching Weasel.

MCILRITH: I was in a band with Pete called Arma Angelus. I was like their fifth or sixth bass player. I wasn't doing anything musically when they hit me up to play bass, so I said, 'Of course.' I liked everyone in the band. We were rehearsing, playing a few shows here and there, with an ever-revolving cast of characters. We recorded a record together at the time. I even sing on that record, believe it or not, they gave me a vocal part. Around that same time, I began meeting with [bassist] Joe [Principe] about starting what would become Rise Against.

CHRIS GUTIERREZ: Wentz played me the Arma Angelus demo in the car. He said he wanted it to be a mix of Despair, Buried Alive, and Damnation A.D. He told me Tim was leaving to start another band - which ended up being Rise Against - and asked if I wanted to play bass.

TROHMAN: Pete asked me to fill in for a tour when I was 15. Pete had to call my dad to convince him to let me go. He did it, too. It was my first tour, in a shitty cargo van, with those dudes. They hazed the shit out of me. It was the best and worst experience. Best overall, worst at the time.

GUTIERREZ: Enthusiasm was starting to wane in Arma Angelus. Our drummer was really into cock-rock. It wasn't an ironic thing. He loved L.A. Guns, Whitesnake, and Hanoi Rocks. It drove Pete nuts because the scene was about Bleeding Through and Throwdown, not cock rock. He was frustrated that things weren't panning out for the band, and of course, there's a ceiling for how big a metalcore band can get, anyway.

MANI MOSTOFI: Pete had honed this tough guy persona, which I think was a defense mechanism. He had some volatile moments in his childhood. Underneath, he was a pretty sensitive and vulnerable person. After playing in every mosh-metal band in the Midwest and listening exclusively to Earth Crisis, Damnation A.D., Chokehold, and stuff like that for a long time, I think Pete wanted to do something fresh. He had gotten into Lifetime, Saves The Day, The Get Up Kids, and bands like that. Pete was at that moment where the softer side of him needed an outlet, and didn't want to hide behind mosh-machismo. I remember him telling me he wanted to start a band that more girls could listen to.

MCILRATH: Pete was talking about starting a pop-punk band. Bands like New Found Glory and Saves The Day were successful then. The whole pop-punk sound was accessible. Pete was just one of those guys destined for bigger things than screaming for mediocre hardcore bands in Chicago. He's a smart guy, a brilliant guy. All the endeavors he had taken on, even in the microcosm of the 1990s Chicago hardcore world, he put a lot of though into it. You could tell that if he were given a bigger receptacle to put that thought into, it could become something huge. He was always talented: lyrics, imagery, that whole thing. He was ahead of the curve. We were in this hardcore band from Chicago together, but we were both talking about endeavors beyond it.

TROHMAN: The drummer for Arma Angelus was moving. Pete and I talked about doing something different. It was just Pete and me at first. There was this thuggishness happening in the Chicago hardcore scene at that time that wasn't part of our vibe. It was cool, but it wasn't our thing.

MCILRITH: One day at Arma Angelus practice, Pete asked me, 'Are you going to do that thing with Joe?' I was like, 'Yeah, I think so.' He was like, 'You should do that, dude. Don't let this band hold you back. I'll be doing something else, too. We should be doing other things.' He was really ambitious. It was so amazing to me, too, because Pete was a guy who, at the time, was kind of learning how to play the bass. A guy who didn't really play an instrument will do down in history as one of the more brilliant musicians in Chicago. He had everything else in his corner. He knew how to do everything else. He needed to get some guys behind him because he had the rest covered. He had topics, themes, lyrics, artwork, this whole image he wanted to do, and he was uncompromising. He also tapped into something the rest of us were just waking up to: the advent of the internet. I mean, the internet wasn't new, but higher-speed internet was.

MOSTOFI: Joe was excited to be invited by Pete to do a band. Joe was the youngest in our crew by far, and Pete was the 'coolest' in a Fonzie sort of way. Joe deferred to Pete's judgement for years. But eventually, his whole life centered around bossy big-brother Pete. I think doing The Damned Things was for Joe what Fall Out Boy was for Pete, in a way. It was a way to find his own space within the group of friends. Unsurprisingly, Joe now plays a much more significant role in Fall Out Boy's music.

WENTZ: I wanted to do something easy and escapist. When Joe and I started the band, it was the worst band of all time. I feel like people said, 'Oh, yeah, you started Fall Out Boy to get big.' Dude, there was way more of a chance of every other band getting big in my head than Fall Out Boy. It was a side thing that was fun to do. Racetraitor and Extinction were big bands to me. We wanted to do pop-punk because it would be fun and hilarious. It was definitely on a lark. We weren't good. If it was an attempt at selling out, it was a very poor attempt.

MCILRITH: It was such a thing for people to move from hardcore bands to bands called 'emo' or pop-punk, as those bands were starting to get some radio play and signed to major labels. Everyone thought it was easy, but it's not as easy as that. Most guys we knew who tried it never did anything more successful than their hardcore bands. But Pete did it! And if anyone was going to, it was going to be him. He never did anything half-assed. He ended up playing bass in so many bands in Chicago, even though he could barely play the bass then, because simply putting him in your band meant you'd have a better show. He was just more into it. He knew more about dynamics, about getting a crowd to react to what you're doing than most people. Putting Pete in your band put you up a few notches.

"I'm Writing You A Chorus And Here Is Your Verse" - When Pete met Patrick, early 2001.

MARK ROSE: Patrick Stump played drums in this grindcore band called Grinding Process. They had put out a live split cassette tape.

PATRICK STUMP: My ambition always outweighed my ability or actual place in the world. I was a drummer and played in many bands and tried to finagle my way into better ones but never really managed. I was usually outgunned by the same two guys: this guy Rocky Senesce; I'm not sure if he's playing anymore, but he was amazing. And this other guy, De'Mar Hamilton, who is now in Plain White T's. We'd always go out for the same bands. I felt like I was pretty good, but then those guys just mopped the floor with me. I hadn't been playing music for a few months. I think my girlfriend dumped me. I was feeling down. I wasn't really into pop-punk or emo. I think at the time I was into Rhino Records box sets.

TROHMAN: I was at the Borders in Eden's Plaza in Wilmette, Illinois. My friend Arthur was asking me about Neurosis. Patrick just walked up and started talking to me.

STUMP: I was a bit arrogant and cocky, like a lot of young musicians. Joe was talking kind of loudly and I overheard him say something about Neurosis, and I think I came in kind of snotty, kind of correcting whatever they had said.

TROHMAN: We just started talking about music, and my buddy Arthur got shoved out of the conversation. I told him about the band we were starting. Pete was this local hardcore celebrity, which intrigued Patrick.

STUMP: I had similar conversations with any number of kids my age. This conversation didn't feel crazy special. That's one of the things that's real about [Joe and I meeting], and that's honest about it, that's it's not some 'love at first sight' thing where we started talking about music and 'Holy smokes, we're going to have the best band ever!' I had been in a lot of bands up until then. Hardcore was a couple of years away from me at that point. I was over it, but Pete was in real bands; that was interesting. Now I'm curious and I want to do this thing, or at least see what happens. Joe said they needed a drummer, guitar player, or singer, and I kind of bluffed and said I could do any one of those things for a pop-punk band. I'd had a lot of conversations about starting bands where I meet up with somebody and maybe try to figure out some songs and then we'd never see each other again. There were a lot of false starts and I assumed this would be just another one of those, but it would be fun for this one to be with the guy from Racetraitor and Extinction.

TROHMAN: He gave me the link to his MP3.com page. There were a few songs of him just playing acoustic and singing. He was awesome.

WENTZ: Joe told me we were going to this kid's house who would probably be our drummer but could also sing. He sent me a link to Patrick singing some acoustic thing, but the quality was so horrible it was hard to tell what it was. Patrick answered the door in some wild outfit. He looked like an emo kid but from the Endpoint era - dorky and cool. We went into the basement, and he was like, trying to set up his drums.

TROHMAN: Patrick has said many times that he intended to try out on drums. I was pushing for him to sing after hearing his demos. 'Hey! Sing for us!' I asked him to take out his acoustic guitar. He played songs from Saves The Day's Through Being Cool. I think he sang most of the record to us. We were thrilled. We had never been around someone who could sing like that.

WENTZ: I don't think Patrick thought we were cool at all. We were hanging out, and he started playing acoustic guitar. He started singing, and I realized he could sing any Saves The Day song. I was like, 'Wow, that's the way those bands sound! We should just have you sing.' It had to be serendipity because Patrick drumming and Joe singing is not the same band. I never thought about singing. It wasn't the type of thing I could sing. I knew I'd be playing bass. I didn't think it'd even go beyond a few practices. It didn't seem like the thing I was setting myself up to do for the next several years of my life in any way. I was going to college. It was just a fun getaway from the rest of life kind of thing to do.

STUMP: Andy was the first person we asked to play drums. Joe even brought him up in the Borders conversation. But Andy was too busy. He wasn't really interested, either, because we kind of sucked.

WENTZ: I wanted Hurley in the band, I was closest to him at the time, I had known him for a long time. I identified with him in the way that we were the younger dudes in our larger group. I tried to get him, but he was doing another band at the time, or multiple bands. He was Mani's go-to guy to play drums, always. I had asked him a few times. That should clue people into the fact that we weren't that good.

ANDY HURLEY: I knew Joe as 'Number One Fan.' We called him that because he was a huge fan of a band I was in, Kill The Slavemaster. When Fall Out Boy started, I was going to college full-time. I was in the band Project Rocket and I think The Kill Pill then, too.

MOSTOFI: After they got together the first or second time, Pete played me a recording and said, 'This is going to be big.' They had no songs, no name, no drummer. They could barely play their instruments. But Pete knew, and we believed him because we could see his drive and Patrick's potential. Patrick was prodigy. I imagine the first moment Pete heard him sing was probably like when I heard 15-year-old Andy Hurley play drums.

GUTIERREZ: One day at practice, Pete told me he had met some dudes with whom he was starting a pop-punk band. He said it would sound like a cross between New Found Glory and Lifetime. Then the more Fall Out Boy started to practice, the less active Arma Angelus became.

TROHMAN: We got hooked up with a friend named Ben Rose, who became our original drummer. We would practice in his parents' basement. We eventually wrote some pretty bad songs. I don't even have the demo. I have copies of Arma's demo, but I don't have that one.

MOSTOFI: We all knew that hardcore kids write better pop-punk songs than actual pop-punk kids. It had been proven. An experienced hardcore musician could bring a sense of aggression and urgency to the pop hooks in a way that a band like Yellowcard could never achieve. Pete and I had many conversations about this. He jokingly called it 'Softcore,' but that's precisely what it was. It's what he was going for. Take This To Your Grave sounds like Hot Topic, but it feels like CBGBs.

MCILRITH: Many hardcore guys who transitioned into pop-punk bands dumbed it down musically and lyrically. Fall Out Boy found a way to do it that wasn't dumbed down. They wrote music and lyrics that, if you listened closely, you could tell came from people who grew up into hardcore. Pete seemed to approach the song titles and lyrics the same way he attacked hardcore songs. You could see his signature on all of that.

STUMP: We all had very different ideas of what it should sound like. I signed up for Kid Dynamite, Strike Anywhere, or Dillinger Four. Pete was very into Lifetime and Saves The Day. I think both he and Joe were into New Found Glory and Blink-182. I still hadn't heard a lot of stuff. I was arrogant; I was a rock snob. I was over most pop-punk. But then I had this renaissance week where I was like, 'Man, you know what? I really do like The Descendents.' Like, the specific week I met Joe, it just happened to be that I was listening to a lot of Descendents. So, there was a part of me that was tickled by that idea. 'You know what? I'll try a pop-punk band. Why not?'

MOSTOFI: To be clear, they were trying to become a big band. But they did it by elevating radio-friendly pop punk, not debasing themselves for popularity. They were closely studying Drive-Thru Records bands like The Starting Line, who I couldn't stand. But they knew what they were doing. They extracted a few good elements from those bands and combined them with their other influences. Patrick never needed to be auto-tuned. He can sing. Pete never had to contrive this emotional depth. He always had it.

STUMP: The ideas for band names were obnoxious. At some point, Pete and I were arguing over it, and I think our first drummer, Ben Rose, who was in the hardcore band Strength In Numbers, suggested Fall Out Boy. Pete and I were like, 'Well, we don't hate that one. We'll keep it on the list.' But we never voted on a name.

"Fake It Like You Matter" - The Early Shows, 2001

The name Fall Out Boy made their shortlist, but their friends ultimately chose it for them. The line-up at the band's first show was Patrick Stump (sans guitar), Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman, drummer Ben Rose, and guitarist John Flamandan in his only FOB appearance.

STUMP: We didn't have a name at our two or three shows. We were basically booked as 'Pete's new band' as he was the most known of any of us. Pete and I were the artsy two.

TROHMAN: The rest of us had no idea what we were doing onstage.

STUMP: We took ourselves very seriously and completely different ideas on what was 'cool.' Pete at the time was somewhere between maybe Chuck Palahniuk and Charles Bukowski, and kind of New Romantic and Manchester stuff, so he had that in mind. The band names he suggested were long and verbose, somewhat tongue-in-cheek. I was pretty much only into Tom Waits, so I wanted everything to be a reference to Tom Waits. The first show was at DePaul [University] in some cafeteria. The room looked a lot nicer than punk rock shows are supposed to look, like a room where you couldn't jump off the walls. We played with a band called Stillwell. I want to say one of the other bands played Black Sabbath's Black Sabbath in its entirety. We were out of place. We were tossing a few different names around. The singer for Stillwell was in earshot of the conversation so I was like 'Hey, settle this for us,' and told him whatever name it was, which I can't remember. 'What do you think of this name?' He goes, 'It sucks.' And the way he said it, there was this element to it, like, 'You guys probably suck, too, so whatever.' That was our first show. We played first and only had three songs. That was John's only show with us, and I never saw him again. I was just singing without a guitar, and I had never just sung before; that was horrifying. We blazed through those songs.

ROSE: Patrick had this shoulder-length hair. Watching these guys who were known for heavier stuff play pop-punk was strange. Pete was hopping around with the X's on his hands. Spitalfield was similar; we were kids playing another style of music who heard Texas Is The Reason and Get Up Kids and said, 'We have to start a band like this.'

MOSTOFI: The first show was a lot of fun. The musical side wasn't there, but Pete and Patrick's humor and charisma were front and center.

TROHMAN: I remember having a conversation with Mani about stage presence. He was telling me how important it was. Coalesce and The Dillinger Escape Plan would throw mic stands and cabinets. We loved that visual excitement and appeal. Years later, Patrick sang a Fall Out Boy song with Taylor Swift at Giants Stadium. It was such a great show to watch that I was reminded of how wise Mani was to give me that advice back then. Mani was like a mentor for me, honestly. He would always guide me through stuff.

MOSTOFI: Those guys grew up in Chicago, either playing in or seeing Extinction, Racetraitor, Los Crudos, and other bands that liked to talk and talk between songs. Fall Out Boy did that, and it was amazing. Patrick was awkward in a knowing and hilarious way. He'd say something odd, and then Pete would zing him. Or Pete would try to say something too cool, and Patrick would remind him they were nerds. These are very personal memories for me. Millions of people have seen the well-oiled machine, but so few of us saw those guys when they were so carefree.

TROHMAN: We had this goofy, bad first show, but all I can tell you was that I was determined to make this band work, no matter what.

STUMP: I kind of assumed that was the end of that. 'Whatever, on with our lives.' But Joe was very determined. He was going to pick us up for practice and we were going to keep playing shows. He was going to make the band happen whether the rest of us wanted to or not. That's how we got past show number one. John left the band because we only had three songs and he wasn't very interested. In the interim, I filled in on guitar. I didn't consider myself a guitar player. Our second show was a college show in Southern Illinois or something.

MCILRITH: That show was with my other band, The Killing Tree.

STUMP: We showed up late and played before The Killing Tree. There was no one there besides the bands and our friends. I think we had voted on some names. Pete said 'Hey, we're whatever!'; probably something very long. And someone yells out, 'Fuck that, no, you're Fall Out Boy!' Then when The Killing Tree was playing, Tim said, 'I want to thank Fall Out Boy.' Everyone looked up to Tim, so when he forced the name on us, it was fine. I was a diehard Simpsons fan, without question. I go pretty deep on The Simpsons. Joe and I would just rattle off Simpsons quotes. I used to do a lot of Simpsons impressions. Ben was very into Simpsons; he had a whole closet full of Simpsons action figures.

"If Only You Knew I Was Terrified" - The Early Recordings, 2002-2003

Wentz's relationships in the hardcore scene led to Fall Out Boy's first official releases. A convoluted and rarely properly explained chain of events resulted in the Fall Out Boy/Project Rocket split EP and Fall Out Boy's Evening Out with Your Girlfriend. Both were issued by California's Uprising Records, whose discography included Racetraitor's first album and the debut EP by Burn It Down. The band traveled to Wisconsin to record their first proper demo with engineer Jared Logan, drummer for Uprising's 7 Angels 7 Plagues.

TROHMAN: This isn't to be confused with the demo we did in Ben's basement, which was like a tape demo. This was our first real demo.

STUMP: Between booking the demo and recording it, we lost Ben Rose. He was the greatest guy, but it wasn't working out musically. Pete and Joe decided I should play drums on the demo. But Jared is a sick drummer, so he just did it.

TROHMAN: We had gotten this great singer but went through a series of drummers that didn't work out. I had to be the one who kicked Ben out. Not long after, our friend Brett Bunting played with us. I don't think he really wanted to do it, which was a bummer.

STUMP: I showed up to record that demo, feeling pulled into it. I liked hanging out with the guys, but I was a rock snob who didn't really want to be making that type of music. The first few songs were really rough. We were sloppy. We barely practiced. Pete was in Arma Angelus. Joe was the guy determined to make it happen. We couldn't keep a drummer or guitar player, and I could barely play guitar. I didn't really want to be in Fall Out Boy. We had these crappy songs that kind of happened; it didn't feel like anything. Joe did the guitars. I go in to do the vocals, I put on the headphones, and it starts playing and was kind of not bad! It was pretty good, actually. I was shocked. That was the first time I was like, 'Maybe I am supposed to be in this band.' I enjoyed hearing it back.

SEAN MUTTAQI: Wentz and I were pretty tight. He sent me some demos, and while I didn't know it would get as big as it did, I knew it was special. Wentz had a clear vision. Of all the guys from that scene, he was the most singularly focused on taking things to the next level. He was ahead of the game with promotion and the early days of social media.

STUMP: Arma Angelus had been on Eulogy. We talked to them a bit and spoke to Uprising because they had put out Racetraitor. At some point, the demo got to Sean, and he decided to make it half of a split with Andy's band, Project Rocket. We were pretty happy with that.

HURLEY: It was kind of competitive for me at the time. Project Rocket and Fall Out Boy were both doing pop-punk/pop-rock, I met Patrick through the band. I didn't really know him before Fall Out Boy.

TROHMAN: We got this drummer, Mike Pareskuwicz, who had been in a hardcore band from Central Illinois called Subsist.

STUMP: Uprising wanted us to make an album. We thought that was cool, but we only had those three songs that were on the split. We were still figuring ourselves out. One of the times we were recording with Jared in the studio, for the split or the album, this guy T.J. Kunasch was there. He was like, 'Hey, do you guys need a guitarist?' And he joined.

MUTTAQI: I borrowed some money to get them back in the studio. The songwriting was cool on that record, but it was all rushed. The urgency to get something out led to the recording being subpar. Their new drummer looked the part but couldn't really play. They had already tracked the drums before they realized it didn't sound so hot.

STUMP: The recording experience was not fun. We had two days to do an entire album. Mike was an awesome dude, but he lived crazy far away, in Kanakee, Illinois, so the drive to Milwaukee wasn't easy for him. He had to work or something the next day. So, he did everything in one take and left. He played alone, without a click, so it was a ness to figure out. We had to guess where the guitar was supposed to go. None of us liked the songs because we had slapped them together. We thought it all sucked. But I thought, 'Well, at least it'll be cool to have something out.' Then a lot of time went by. Smaller labels were at the mercy of money, and it was crazy expensive to put out a record back then.

MUTTAQI: Our record was being rushed out to help generate some interest, but that interest was building before we could even get the record out. We were beholden to finances while changing distribution partners and dealing with other delays. The buck stops with me, yes, but I didn't have that much control over the scheduling.

WENTZ: It's not what I would consider the first Fall Out Boy record. Hurley isn't on it and he's an integral part of the Fall Out Boy sound. But it is part of the history, the legacy. NASA didn't go right to the moon. They did test flights in the desert. Those are our test flights in the desert. It's not something I'm ashamed of or have weird feelings about.

STUMP: It's kind of embarrassing to me. Evening Out... isn't representative of the band we became. I liked Sean a lot, so it's nothing against him. If anybody wants to check out the band in that era, I think the split EP is a lot cooler. Plus, Andy is on that one.

TROHMAN: T.J. was the guy who showed up to the show without a guitar. He was the guy that could never get it right, but he was in the band for a while because we wanted a second guitar player. He's a nice dude but wasn't great to be in a band with back then. One day he drove unprompted from Racine to Chicago to pick up some gear. I don't know how he got into my parents' house, but the next thing I knew, he was in my bedroom. I didn't like being woken up and kicked him out of the band from bed.

STUMP: Our friend Brian Bennance asked us to do a split 7" with 504 Plan, which was a big band to us. Brian offered to pay for us to record with Sean O'Keefe, which was also a big deal. Mike couldn't get the time off work to record with us. We asked Andy to play on the songs. He agreed to do it, but only if he could make it in time after recording an entire EP with his band, The Kill Pill, in Chicago, on the same day.

MOSTOFI: Andy and I started The Kill Pill shortly after Racetraitor split up, not long after Fall Out Boy had formed. We played a bunch of local shows together. The minute Andy finished tracking drums for our EP in Chicago, he raced to the other studio in Madison.

STUMP: I'm getting ready to record the drums myself, getting levels and checking the drums, pretty much ready to go. And then in walks Andy Hurley. I was a little bummed because I really wanted to play drums that day. But then Andy goes through it all in like two takes and fucking nailed the entire thing. He just knocked it out of the park. All of us were like, 'That's crazy!'

WENTZ: When Andy came in, It just felt different. It was one of those 'a-ha' moments.

STUMP: Sean leaned over to us and said, 'You need to get this guy in the band.'

SEAN O'KEEFE: We had a blast. We pumped It out. We did it fast and to analog tape. People believe it was very Pro Tools oriented, but it really was done to 24-track tape. Patrick sang his ass off.

STUMP: The songs we had were 'Dead On Arrival,' 'Saturday,' and 'Homesick at Space Camp. There are quite a few songs that ended up on Take This To You Grave where I wrote most of the lyrics but Pete titled them.

WENTZ: 'Space Camp' was a reference to the 1986 movie, SpaceCamp, and the idea of space camp. Space camp wasn't something anyone in my area went to. Maybe they did, but it was never an option for me. It seems like the little kid version of meeting Jay-Z. The idea was also: what if you, like Joaquin Phoenix in the movie, took off to outer space and wanted to get home? 'I made it to space and now I'm just homesick and want to hang out with my friends.' In the greater sense, it's about having it all, but it's still not enough. There's a pop culture reference in 'Saturday' that a lot of people miss. 'Pete and I attack the lost Astoria' was a reference to The Goonies, which was filmed in Astoria, Oregon.

HURLEY: I remember hearing those recordings, especially 'Dead on Arrival,' and Patrick's voice and how well written those songs were, especially relative to anything else I had done - I had a feeling that this could do something.

WENTZ: It seemed like it would stall out if we didn't get a solid drummer in the band soon. That was the link that we couldn't nail down. Patrick was always a big musical presence. He thinks and writes rhythmi-cally, and we couldn't get a drummer to do what he wanted or speak his language. Hurley was the first one that could. It's like hearing two drummers talk together when they really get it. It sounds like a foreign language because it's not something I'm keyed into. Patrick needed someone on a similar musical plane. I wasn't there. Joe was younger and was probably headed there.

HURLEY: When Patrick was doing harmonies, it was like Queen. He's such a brilliant dude. I was always in bands that did a record and then broke up. I felt like this was a band that could tour a lot like the hardcore bands we loved, even if we had to have day jobs, too.

"(Four) Tired Boys And A Broken Down Van" - The Early Tours, 2002-2003

STUMP: We booked a tour with Spitalfield, another Chicago band, who had records out, so they were a big deal to us. We replaced T.J. with a guy named Brandon Hamm. He was never officially in the band. He quit when we were practicing 'Saturday.' He goes, 'I don't like that. I don't want to do this anymore.' Pete talked with guitarist Chris Envy from Showoff, who had just broken up. Chris said, 'Yeah, I'll play in your band.' He came to two practices, then quit like two days before the tour. It was only a two-week tour, but Mike couldn't get the time off work from Best Buy, or maybe it was Blockbuster. We had to lose Mike, which was the hardest member change for me. It was unpleasant.

TROHMAN: We had been trying to get Andy to join the band for a while. Even back at that first Borders conversation, we talked about him, but he was too busy at the time.

STUMP: I borrowed one of Joe's guitars and jumped in the fire. We were in this legendarily shitty used van Pete had gotten. It belonged to some flower shop, so it had this ominously worn-out flower decal outside and no windows [except in the front]. Crappy brakes, no A/C, missing the rearview mirror, no seats in the back, only the driver's seat. About 10 minutes into the tour, we hit something. A tire exploded and slingshot into the passenger side mirror, sending glass flying into the van. We pulled over into some weird animal petting zoo. I remember thinking, 'This is a bad omen for this tour.' Spitalfield was awesome, and we became tight with them. Drew Brown, who was later in Weekend Nachos, was out with them, too. But most of the shows were canceled.

WENTZ: We'd end up in a town, and our show was canceled, or we'd have three days off. 'Let's just get on whatever show we can. Whatever, you can pay us in pizza.'

STUMP: We played in a pizza place. We basically blocked the line of people trying to order pizza, maybe a foot away from the shitty tables. Nobody is trying to watch a band. They're just there to eat pizza. And that was perhaps the biggest show we played on that tour. One of the best moments on the Spitalfied tour was in Lincoln, Nebraska. The local opener wasn't even there - they were at the bar across the street and showed up later with two people. Fall Out Boy played for Spitalfield, and Spitalfield played for Fall Out Boy. Even the sound guy had left. It was basically an empty room. It was miserable.

HURLEY: Even though we played a ton of shows in front of just the other bands, it was awesome. I've known Pete forever and always loved being in bands with him. After that tour, it was pretty much agreed that I would be in the band. I wanted to be in the band.

WENTZ: We would play literally any show in those days for free. We played Chain Reaction in Orange County with a bunch of metalcore bands. I want to say Underoath was one of them. I remember a lot of black shirts and crossed arms at those kinds of shows. STUMP: One thing that gets lost in the annals of history is Fall Out Boy, the discarded hardcore band. We played so many hardcore shows! The audiences were cool, but they were just like, 'This is OK, but we'd really rather be moshing right now.' Which was better than many of the receptions we got from pop-punk kids.

MOSTOFI: Pete made sure there was little division between the band and the audience. In hardcore, kids are encouraged to grab the mic. Pete was very conscious about making the crowd feel like friends. I saw them in Austin, Texas, in front of maybe ten kids. But it was very clear all ten of those kids felt like Pete's best friends. And they were, in a way.

MCILRITH: People started to get into social networking. That kind of thing was all new to us, and they were way ahead. They networked with their fans before any of us.

MOSTOFI: Pete shared a lot about his life online and was intimate as hell. It was a new type of scene. Pete extended the band's community as far as fiber optics let him.

ROSE: Pete was extremely driven. Looking back, I wish I had that killer instinct. During that tour; we played a show in Colorado. On the day of the show, we went to Kinko's to make flyers to hand out to college kids. Pete put ‘members of Saves The Day and Screeching Weasel’ on the flyer. He was just like, 'This will get people in.'

WENTZ: We booked a lot of our early shows through hardcore connections, and to some extent, that carries through to what Fall Out Boy shows are like today. If you come to see us play live, we're basically Slayer compared to everyone else when we play these pop radio shows. Some of that carries back to what you must do to avoid being heckled at hardcore shows. You may not like our music, but you will leave here respecting us. Not everyone is going to love you. Not everyone is going to give a shit. But you need to earn a crowd's respect. That was an important way for us to learn that.

MOSTOFI: All those dudes, except Andy, lived in this great apartment with our friend Brett Bunting, who was almost their drummer at one point. The proximity helped them gel.

STUMP: There were a lot of renegade last-minute shows where we'd just call and get added. We somehow ended up on a show with Head Automatica that way.

MCILRITH: At some point early on, they opened for Rise Against in a church basement in Downers Grove. We were doing well then; headlining that place was a big deal. Then Pete's band was coming up right behind us, and you could tell there was a lot of chatter about Fall Out Boy. I remember getting to the show, and there were many people there, many of whom I had never seen in the scene before. A lot of unfamiliar faces. A lot of people that wouldn't have normally found their way to the seedy Fireside Bowl in Chicago. These were young kids, and I was 21 then, so when I say young, I mean really young. Clearly, Fall Out Boy had tapped into something the rest of us had not. People were super excited to see them play and freaked out; there was a lot of enthusiasm at that show. After they finished, their fans bailed. They were dedicated. They wanted to see Fall Out Boy. They didn't necessarily want to see Rise Against play. That was my first clue that, 'Whoa, what Pete told me that day at Arma Angelus rehearsal is coming true. He was right.' Whatever he was doing was working.

"My Insides Are Copper, And I'd Like To Make Them Gold" - The Record Labels Come Calling, 2002

STUMP: The split EP was going to be a three-way split with 504 Plan, August Premier, and us at one point. But then the record just never happened. Brian backed out of putting it out. We asked him if we could do something else with the three songs and he didn't really seem to care. So, we started shopping the three songs as a demo. Pete ended up framing the rejection letters we got from a lot of pop-punk labels. But some were interested.

HURLEY: We wanted to be on Drive-Thru Records so bad. That was the label.

RICHARD REINES: After we started talking to them, I found the demo they had sent us in the office. I played it for my sister. We decided everything together. She liked them but wasn't as crazy about them as I was. We arranged with Pete to see them practice. We had started a new label called Rushmore. Fall Out Boy wasn't the best live band. We weren't thrilled [by the showcase]. But the songs were great. We both had to love a band to sign them, so my sister said, 'If you love them so much, let's sign them to Rushmore, not Drive Thru.'

HURLEY: We did a showcase for Richard and Stephanie Reines. They were just kind of like, 'Yeah, we have this side label thing. We'd be interested in having you on that.' I remember them saying they passed on Saves The Day and wished they would have put out Through Being Cool. But then they [basically] passed on us by offering to put us on Rushmore. We realized we could settle for that, but we knew it wasn't the right thing.

RORY FELTON: Kevin Knight had a website, TheScout, which always featured great new bands. I believe he shared the demo with us. I flew out to Chicago. Joe and Patrick picked me up at the airport. I saw them play at a VFW hall, Patrick drank an entire bottle of hot sauce on a dare at dinner, and then we all went to see the movie The Ring. I slept on the couch in their apartment, the one featured on the cover of Take This To Your Grave. Chad [Pearson], my partner, also flew out to meet with the band.

STUMP: It was a weird time to be a band because it was feast or famine. At first, no one wanted us. Then as soon as one label said, 'Maybe we'll give 'em a shot,' suddenly there's a frenzy of phone calls from record labels. We were getting our shirts printed by Victory Records. One day, we went to pick up shirts, and someone came downstairs and said, 'Um, guys? [Owner] Tony [Brummel] wants to see you.' We were like, 'Did we forget to pay an invoice?' He made us an offer on the spot. We said, 'That's awesome, but we need to think about it.' It was one of those 'now or never' kinds of things. I think we had even left the van running. It was that kind of sudden; we were overwhelmed by it.

HURLEY: They told me Tony said something like, 'You can be with the Nike of the record industry or the Keds of the record industry.'

STUMP: We'd get random calls at the apartment. 'Hey, I'm a manager with so-and-so.' I talked to some boy band manager who said, 'We think you'll be a good fit.'

TROHMAN: The idea of a manager was a ‘big-time' thing. I answered a call one day, and this guy is like, 'I'm the manager for the Butthole Surfers, and I'd really like to work with you guys.' I just said, Yeah, I really like the Butthole Surfers, but I'll have to call you back.' And I do love that band. But I just knew that wasn't the right thing.

STUMP: Not all the archetypes you always read about are true. The label guys aren't all out to get you. Some are total douchebags. But then there are a lot who are sweet and genuine. It's the same thing with managers. I really liked the Militia Group. They told us it was poor form to talk to us without a manager. They recommended Bob McLynn.

FELTON: We knew the guys at Crush from working with Acceptance and The Beautiful Mistake. We thought they'd be great for Fall Out Boy, so we sent the music to their team.

STUMP: They said Crush was their favorite management company and gave us their number. Crush's biggest band at the time was American Hi-Fi. Jonathan Daniels, the guy who started the company, sent a manager to see us. The guy was like, "This band sucks!' But Jonathan liked us and thought someone should do something with us. Bob was his youngest rookie manager. He had never managed anyone, and we had never been managed.

BOB MCLYNN: Someone else from my office who isn't with us anymore had seen them, but I hadn't seen them yet. At the time, we'd tried to manage Brand New; they went elsewhere, and I was bummed. Then we got the Fall Out Boy demo, and I was like, Wow. This sounds even better. This guy can really sing, and these songs are great.' I remember going at it hard after that whole thing. Fall Out Boy was my consolation prize. I don't know if they were talking to other managers or not, but Pete and I clicked.

TROHMAN: In addition to being really creative, Pete is really business savvy. We all have a bullshit detector these days, but Pete already had one back then. We met Bob, and we felt like this dude wouldn't fuck us over.

STUMP: We were the misfit toy that nobody else wanted. Bob really believed in us when nobody else did and when nobody believed in him. What's funny is that all the other managers at Crush were gone within a year. It was just Bob and Jonathan, and now they're partners. Bob was the weird New York Hardcore guy who scared me at the time.

TROHMAN: We felt safe with him. He's a big, hulking dude.

MCLYNN: We tried to make a deal with The Militia Group, but they wouldn't back off on a few things in the agreement. I told them those were deal breakers, opening the door to everyone else. I knew this band needed a shot to do bigger and better things.

TROHMAN: He told us not to sign with the label that recommended him to us. We thought there was something very honest about that.

MCLYNN: They paid all their dues. Those guys worked harder than any band I'd ever seen, and I was all about it. I had been in bands before and had just gotten out. I was getting out of the van just as these guys got into one. They busted their asses.

STUMP: A few labels basically said the same thing: they wanted to hear more. They weren't convinced we could write another song as good as 'Dead On Arrival.' I took that as a challenge. We returned to Sean a few months after those initial three songs, this time at Gravity Studios in Chicago. We recorded ‘Grenade Jumper' and 'Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy' in a night or two. 'Where is Your Boy' was my, 'Fine, you don't think I can write a fucking song? Here's your hit song, jerks!' But I must have pushed Pete pretty hard [arguing about the songs]. One night, as he and I drove with Joe, Pete said, 'Guys, I don't think I want to do this band anymore.' We talked about it for the rest of the ride home. I didn't want to be in the band in the first place! I was like, 'No! That's not fair! Don't leave me with this band! Don't make me kind of like this band, and then leave it! That's bullshit!' Pete didn't stay at the apartment that night. I called him at his parent's house. I told him I wasn't going to do the band without him. He was like, 'Don't break up your band over it.' I said, 'It's not my band. It's a band that you, Joe, and I started.' He was like, 'OK, I'll stick around.' And he came back with a vengeance.

WENTZ: It was maybe the first time we realized we could do these songs titles that didn't have much do with the song from the outside. Grand Theft Auto was such a big pop culture franchise. If you said the phrase back then, everyone recognized it. The play on words was about someone stealing your time in the fall. It was the earliest experimentation with that so it was a little simplistic compared to the stuff we did later. At the time, we'd tell someone the song title, and they'd say, 'You mean "Auto"'?

JOHN JANICK: I saw their name on fliers and thought it was strange. But I remembered it. Then I saw them on a flyer with one of our bands from Chicago, August Premier. I called them and asked about this band whose name I had seen on a few flyers now. They told me they were good and I should check it out. I heard an early version of a song online and instantly fell in love with it. Drive-Thru, The Militia Group, and a few majors tried to sign them. I was the odd man out. But I knew I wanted them right away.

HURLEY: Fueled By Ramen was co-owned by Vinnie [Fiorello] from Less Than Jake. It wasn't necessarily a band I grew up loving, but I had so much respect for them and what they had done and were doing.

JANICK: I randomly cold-called them at the apartment and spoke to Patrick. He told me I had to talk to Pete. I spoke to Pete later that day. We ended up talking on the phone for an hour. It was crazy. I never flew out there. I just got to know them over the phone.

MCLYNN: There were majors [interested], but I didn't want the band on a major right away. I knew they wouldn't understand the band. Rob Stevenson from Island Records knew all the indie labels were trying to sign Fall Out Boy. We did this first-ever incubator sort of deal. I also didn't want to stay on an indie forever; I felt we needed to develop and have a chance to do bigger and better things, but these indies didn't necessarily have radio staff. It was sort of the perfect scenario. Island gave us money to go on Fueled By Ramen, with whom we did a one-off. No one else would offer a one-off on an indie.

STUMP: They were the smallest of the labels involved, with the least 'gloss.' I said, 'I don't know about this, Pete.' Pete was the one who thought it was the smartest move. He pointed out that we could be a big fish in a small pond. So, we rolled the dice.

HURLEY: It was a one-record deal with Fueled By Ramen. We didn't necessarily get signed to Island, but they had the 'right of first refusal' [for the album following Take This To Your Grave]. It was an awesome deal. It was kind of unheard of, maybe, but there was a bunch of money coming from Island that we didn't have to recoup for promo type of things.

JANICK: The company was so focused on making sure we broke Fall Out Boy; any other label probably wouldn't have had that dedication. Pete and I talked for at least an hour every day. Pete and I became so close, so much so that we started Decaydance. It was his thing, but we ended up signing Panic! At The Disco, Gym Class Heroes, Cobra Starship.

GUTIERREZ: Who could predict Pete would A&R all those bands? There's no Panic! At The Disco or Gym Class Heroes without Wentz. He made them into celebrities.

"Turn This Up And I'll Tune You Out" - The Making of Take This To You Grave, 2003

The versions of "Dead on Arrival," "Saturday," and "Homesick at Space Camp" from the first sessions with Andy on drums are what appear on the album. "Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy" and "Grenade Jumper" are the demo versions recorded later in Chicago. O'Keefe recorded the music for the rest of the songs at Smart Studios once again. They knocked out the remaining songs in just nine days. Sean and Patrick snuck into Gravity Studios in the middle of the night to track vocals in the dead of winter. Patrick sang those seven songs from two to five in the morning in those sessions.

STUMP: John Janick basically said, ‘I'll buy those five songs and we'll make them part of the album, and here's some money to go record seven more.'

MCLYNN: It was a true indie deal with Fueled by Ramen. I think we got between $15,000 and $18,000 all-in to make the album. The band slept on the studio floor some nights.

STUMP: From a recording standpoint, it was amazing. It was very pro, we had Sean, all this gear, the fun studio accoutrements were there. It was competitive with anything we did afterward. But meanwhile, we're still four broke idiots.

WENTZ: We fibbed to our parents about what we were doing. I was supposed to be in school. I didn't have access to money or a credit card. I don't think any of us did.

STUMP: I don't think we slept anywhere we could shower, which was horrifying. There was a girl that Andy's girlfriend at the time went to school with who let us sleep on her floor, but we'd be there for maybe four hours at a time. It was crazy.

HURLEY: Once, Patrick thought it would be a good idea to spray this citrus bathroom spray under his arms like deodorant. It just destroyed him because it's not made for that. But it was all an awesome adventure.

WENTZ: We were so green we didn't really know how studios worked. Every day there was soda for the band. We asked, 'Could you take that soda money and buy us peanut butter, jelly, and bread?' which they did. I hear that stuff in some ways when I listen to that album.

HURLEY: Sean pushed us. He was such a perfectionist, which was awesome. I felt like, ‘This is what a real professional band does.' It was our first real studio experience.

WENTZ: Seeing the Nirvana Nevermind plaque on the wall was mind-blowing. They showed us the mic that had been used on that album.

HURLEY: The mic that Kurt Cobain used, that was pretty awesome, crazy, legendary, and cool. But we didn't get to use it.

WENTZ: They said only Shirley Manson] from Garbage could use it.

O'KEEFE: Those dudes were all straight edge at the time. It came up in conversation that I had smoked weed once a few months before. That started this joke that I was this huge stoner, which obviously I wasn't. They'd call me 'Scoobie Snacks O'Keefe' and all these things. When they turned in the art for the record, they thanked me with like ten different stoner nicknames - 'Dimebag O'Keefe' and stuff like that. The record company made Pete take like seven of them out because they said it was excessively ridiculous.

WENTZ: Sean was very helpful. He worked within the budget and took us more seriously than anyone else other than Patrick. There were no cameras around. There was no documentation. There was nothing to indicate this would be some ‘legendary' session. There are 12 songs on the album because those were all the songs we had. There was no pomp or circumstance or anything to suggest it would be an 'important’ record.

STUMP: Pete and I were starting to carve out our niches. When Pete [re-committed himself to the band], it felt like he had a list of things in his head he wanted to do right. Lyrics were on that list. He wasn't playing around anymore. I wrote the majority of the lyrics up to that point - ‘Saturday,' 'Dead on Arrival,' ‘Where's Your Boy?,’ ‘Grenade Jumper,' and ‘Homesick at Space Camp.' I was an artsy-fartsy dude who didn't want to be in a pop-punk band, so I was going really easy on the lyrics. I wasn't taking them seriously. When I look back on it, I did write some alright stuff. But I wasn't trying. Pete doesn't fuck around like that, and he does not take that kindly. When we returned to the studio, he started picking apart every word, every syllable. He started giving me [notes]. I got so exasperated at one point I was like, ‘You just write the fucking lyrics, dude. Just give me your lyrics, and I'll write around them.' Kind of angrily. So, he did. We hadn't quite figured out how to do it, though. I would write a song, scrap my lyrics, and try to fit his into where mine had been. It was exhausting. It was a rough process. It made both of us unhappy.

MCLYNN: I came from the post-hardcore scene in New York and wasn't a big fan of the pop-punk stuff happening. What struck me with these guys was the phenomenal lyrics and Patrick's insane voice. Many guys in these kinds of bands can sing alright, but Patrick was like a real singer. This guy had soul. He'd take these great lyrics Pete wrote and combine it with that soul, and that's what made their unique sound. They both put their hearts on their sleeves when they wrote together.

STUMP: We had a massive fight over 'Chicago is So Two Years Ago.' I didn't even want to record that song. I was being precious with things that were mine. Part of me thought the band wouldn't work out, and I'd go to college and do some music alone. I had a skeletal version of 'Chicago...'. I was playing it to myself in the lobby of the studio. I didn't know anyone was listening. Sean was walking by and wanted to [introduce it to the others]. I kind of lost my song. I was very precious about it. Pete didn't like some of the lyrics, so we fought. We argued over each word, one at a time. 'Tell That Mick...' was also a pretty big fight. Pete ended up throwing out all my words on that one. That was the first song where he wrote the entire set of lyrics. My only change was light that smoke' instead of ‘cigarette' because I didn't have enough syllables to say 'cigarette.' Everything else was verbatim what he handed to me. I realized I must really want to be in this band at this point if I'm willing to put up with this much fuss. The sound was always more important to me - the rhythm of the words, alliteration, syncopation - was all very exciting. Pete didn't care about any of that. He was all meaning. He didn't care how good the words sounded if they weren't amazing when you read them. Man, did we fight about that. We fought for nine days straight while not sleeping and smelling like shit. It was one long argument, but I think some of the best moments resulted from that.

WENTZ: In 'Calm Before the Storm,' Patrick wrote the line, 'There's a song on the radio that says, 'Let's Get This Party Started' which is a direct reference to Pink's 2001 song 'Get the Party Started.' 'Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today' is a line from the movie Rushmore. I thought we'd catch a little more flack for that, but even when we played it in Ireland, there was none of that. It's embraced, more like a shoutout.

STUMP: Pete and I met up on a lot of the same pop culture. He was more into '80s stuff than I was. One of the first things we talked about were Wes Anderson movies.

WENTZ: Another thing driving that song title was the knowledge that our fanbase wouldn't necessarily be familiar with Wes Anderson. It could be something that not only inspired us but something fans could also go check out. People don't ask us about that song so much now, but in that era, we'd answer and tell them to go watch Rushmore. You gotta see this movie. This line is a hilarious part of it.' Hopefully some people did. I encountered Jason Schwartzman at a party once. We didn't get to talk about the movie, but he was the sweetest human, and I was just geeking out. He told me he was writing a film with Wes Anderson about a train trip in India. I wanted to know about the writing process. He was like, 'Well, he's in New York City, I'm in LA. It's crazy because I'm on the phone all the time and my ear gets really hot.' That's the anecdote I got, and I loved it.

O'KEEFE: They're totally different people who approach making music from entirely different angles. It's cool to see them work. Pete would want a certain lyric. Patrick was focused on the phrasing. Pete would say the words were stupid and hand Patrick a revision, and Patrick would say I can't sing those the way I need to sing this. They would go through ten revisions for one song. I thought I would lose my mind with both of them, but then they would find it, and it would be fantastic. When they work together, it lights up. It takes on a life of its own. It's not always happy. There's a lot of push and pull, and each is trying to get their thing. With Take This To Your Grave, we never let anything go until all three of us were happy. Those guys were made to do this together.

WENTZ: A lot of the little things weren't a big deal, but those were things that [felt like] major decisions. I didn't want 'Where Is Your Boy' on Take This To Your Grave.

JANICK: I freaked out. I called Bob and said, 'We must put this song on the album! It's one of the biggest songs.' He agreed. We called Pete and talked about it; he was cool about it and heard us out.

WENTZ: I thought many things were humongous, and they just weren't. They didn't matter one way or another.

"Our Lawyer Made Us Change The (Album Cover)" - That Photo On Take This To Your Grave, 2003

STUMP: The band was rooted in nostalgia from early on. The '80s references were very much Pete's aesthetic. He had an idea for the cover. It ended up being his girlfriend at the time, face down on the bed, exhausted, in his bedroom. That was his bedroom in our apartment. His room was full of toys, '80s cereals. If we ended up with the Abbey Road cover of pop-punk, that original one was Sgt. Pepper's. But we couldn't legally clear any of the stuff in the photo. Darth Vader, Count Chocula…

WENTZ: There's a bunch of junk in there: a Morrissey poster, I think a Cher poster, Edward Scissorhands. We submitted it to Fueled by Ramen, and they were like, 'We can't clear any of this stuff.’ The original album cover did eventually come out on the vinyl version.

STUMP: The photo that ended up being the cover was simply a promo photo for that album cycle. We had to scramble. I was pushing the Blue Note jazz records feel. That's why the CD looks a bit like vinyl and why our names are listed on the front. I wanted a live photo on the cover. Pete liked the Blue Note idea but didn't like the live photo idea. I also made the fateful decision to have my name listed as 'Stump' rather than Stumph.

WENTZ: What we used was initially supposed to be the back cover. I remember someone in the band being pissed about it forever. Not everyone was into having our names on the cover. It was a strange thing to do at the time. But had the original cover been used, it wouldn't have been as iconic as what we ended up with. It wouldn't have been a conversation piece. That stupid futon in our house was busted in the middle. We're sitting close to each other because the futon was broken. The exposed brick wall was because it was the worst apartment ever. It makes me wonder: How many of these are accidental moments? At the time, there was nothing iconic about it. If we had a bigger budget, we probably would have ended up with a goofier cover that no one would have cared about.

STUMP: One of the things I liked about the cover was that it went along with something Pete had always said. I'm sure people will find this ironic, but Pete had always wanted to create a culture with the band where it was about all four guys and not just one guy. He had the foresight to even think about things like that. I didn't think anyone would give a fuck about our band! At the time, it was The Pete Wentz Band to most people. With that album cover, he was trying to reject that and [demonstrate] that all four of us mattered. A lot of people still don't get that, but whatever. I liked that element of the cover. It felt like a team. It felt like Voltron. It wasn't what I like to call 'the flying V photo' where the singer is squarely in the center, the most important, and everyone else is nearest the camera in order of 'importance.' The drummer would be in the very back. Maybe the DJ guy who scratches records was behind the drummer.

"You Need Him. I Could Be Him. Where Is Your Boy Tonight?" - The Dynamics of Punk Pop's Fab 4, 2003

Patrick seemed like something of the anti-frontman, never hogging the spotlight and often shrinking underneath his baseball hat. Wentz was more talkative, more out front on stage and in interviews, in a way that felt unprecedented for a bass player who wasn't also singing. In some ways, Fall Out Boy operated as a two-headed dictatorship. Wentz and Stump are in the car's front seat while Joe and Andy ride in the back.

STUMP: There is a lot of truth to that. Somebody must be in the front seat, no question. But the analogy doesn't really work for us; were more like a Swiss Army knife. You've got all these different attachments, but they are all part of the same thing. When you need one specific tool, the rest go back into the handle. That was how the band functioned and still does in many ways. Pete didn't want anyone to get screwed. Some things we've done might not have been the best business decision but were the right human decision. That was very much Pete's thing. I was 19 and very reactionary. If someone pissed me off, I'd be like, 'Screw them forever!' But Pete was very tactful. He was the business guy. Joe was active on the internet. He wouldn't stop believing in this band. He was the promotions guy. Andy was an honest instrumentalist: ‘I'm a drummer, and I'm going to be the best fucking drummer I can be.' He is very disciplined. None of us were that way aside from him. I was the dictator in the studio. I didn't know what producing was at the time or how it worked, but in retrospect, I've produced a lot of records because I'm an asshole in the studio. I'm a nice guy, but I'm not the nicest guy in the studio. It's a lot easier to know what you don't want. We carved out those roles early. We were very dependent on each other.

MCLYNN: I remember sitting in Japan with those guys. None of them were drinking then, but I was drinking plenty. It was happening there, their first time over, and all the shows were sold out. I remember looking at Pete and Patrick and telling Pete, ‘You're the luckiest guy in the world because you found this guy.' Patrick laughed. Then I turned to Patrick and said the same thing to him. Because really, they're yin and yang. They fit together so perfectly. The fact that Patrick found this guy with this vision, Pete had everything for the band laid out in his mind. Patrick, how he can sing, and what he did with Pete's lyrics - no one else could have done that. We tried it, even with the Black Cards project in 2010. We'd find these vocalists. Pete would write lyrics, and they'd try to form them into songs, but they just couldn't do it the way Patrick could. Pete has notebooks full of stuff that Patrick turns into songs. Not only can he sing like that, but how he turns those into songs is an art unto itself. It's really the combination of those two guys that make Fall Out Boy what it is. They're fortunate they found each other.

"I Could Walk This Fine Line Between Elation And Success. We All Know Which Way I'm Going To Strike The Stake Between My Chest" - Fall Out Boy Hits the Mainstream, 2003

Released on May 6, 2003, Take This To Your Grave massively connected with fans. (Fall Out Boy's Evening Out with Your Girlfriend arrived in stores less than two months earlier.) While Take This To Your Grave didn't crack the Billboard 200 upon its release, it eventually spent 30 weeks on the charts. From Under the Cork Tree debuted in the Top 10 just two years later, largely on Grave's momentum. 2007's Infinity on High bowed at #1.

WENTZ: I remember noticing it was getting insane when we would do in-stores. We'd still play anywhere. That was our deal. We liked being able to sell our stuff in the stores, too. It would turn into a riot. We played a Hollister at the mall in Schaumburg, Illinois. A lot of these stores were pretty corporate with a lot of rules, but Hollister would let us rip. Our merch guy was wearing board shorts, took this surfboard off the wall, and started crowd-surfing with it during the last song. I remember thinking things had gotten insane right at that moment.

HURLEY: When we toured with Less Than Jake, there were these samplers with two of their songs and two of ours. Giving those out was a surreal moment. To have real promotion for a record... It wasn't just an ad in a 'zine or something. It was awesome.

MCLYNN: They toured with The Reunion Show, Knockout, and Punch-line. One of their first big tours as an opening act was with MEST. There would be sold-out shows with 1,000 kids, and they would be singing along to Fall Out Boy much louder than to MEST. It was like, 'What's going on here?' It was the same deal with Less Than Jake. It really started catching fire months into the album being out. You just knew something was happening. As a headliner, they went from 500-capacity clubs to 1500 - 2000 capacity venues.

WENTZ: We always wanted to play The Metro in Chicago. It got awkward when they started asking us to play after this band or that band. There were bands we grew up with that were now smaller than us. Headlining The Metro was just wild. My parents came.

MCLYNN: There was a week on Warped Tour, and there was some beel because these guys were up-and-comers, and some of the bands that were a little more established weren't too happy. They were getting a little shit on Warped Tour that week, sort of their initiation. They were on this little, shitty stage. So many kids showed up to watch them in Detroit, and the kids rushed the stage, and it collapsed. The PA failed after like three songs. They finished with an acapella, 'Where is Your Boy,’ and the whole crowd sang along.

WENTZ: That's when every show started ending in a riot because it couldn't be contained. We ended up getting banned from a lot of venues because the entire crowd would end up onstage. It was pure energy. We'd be billed on tour as the opening band, and the promoter would tell us we had to close the show or else everyone would leave after we played. We were a good band to have that happen to because there wasn't any ego. We were just like, "Oh, that's weird.' It was just bizarre. When my parents saw it was this wid thing, they said, 'OK, yeah, maybe take a year off from college.' That year is still going on.

MCLYNN: That Warped Tour was when the band's first big magazine cover, by far, hit the stands. I give a lot of credit to Norman Wonderly and Mike Shea at Alternative Press. They saw what was happening with Fall Out Boy and were like, 'We know it's early with you guys, but we want to give you a cover.' It was the biggest thing to happen to any of us. It really helped kick it to another level. It helped stoke the fires that were burning. This is back when bands like Green Day, Blink-182, and No Doubt still sold millions of records left and right. It was a leap of faith for AP to step out on Fall Out Boy the way they did.

STUMP: That was our first big cover. It was crazy. My parents flipped out. That wasn't a small zine. It was a magazine my mom could find in a bookstore and tell her friends. It was a shocking time. It's still like that. Once the surrealism starts, it never ends. I was onstage with Taylor Swift ten years later. That statement just sounds insane. It's fucking crazy. But when I was onstage, I just fell into it. I wasn't thinking about how crazy it was until afterward. It was the same thing with the AP cover. We were so busy that it was just another one of those things we were doing that day. When we left, I was like, 'Holy fuck! We're on the cover of a magazine! One that I read! I have a subscription to that!'

HURLEY: Getting an 'In The Studio' blurb was a big deal. I remember seeing bands 'in the studio' and thinking, Man, I would love to be in that and have people care that we're in the studio.' There were more minor things, but that was our first big cover.

STUMP: One thing I remember about the photo shoot is I was asked to take off my hat. I was forced to take it off and had been wearing that hat for a while. I never wanted to be the lead singer. I always hoped to be a second guitarist with a backup singer role. I lobbied to find someone else to be the proper singer. But here I was, being the lead singer, and I fucking hated it. When I was a drummer, I was always behind something. Somehow the hat thing started. Pete gave me a hat instead of throwing it away - I think it's the one I'm wearing on the cover of Take This To Your Grave. It became like my Linus blanket. I had my hat, and I could permanently hide. You couldn't see my eyes or much of me, and I was very comfortable that way. The AP cover shoot was the first time someone asked me to remove it. My mom has a poster of that cover in her house, and every time I see it, I see the fear on my face - just trying to maintain composure while filled with terror and insecurity. ‘Why is there a camera on me?'

JANICK: We pounded the pavement every week for two years. We believed early on that something great was going to happen. As we moved to 100,000 and 200,000 albums, there were points where everything was tipping. When they were on the cover of Alternative Press. When they did Warped for five days, and the stage collapsed. We went into Christmas with the band selling 2000 to 3000 a week and in the listening stations at Hot Topic. Fueled By Ramen had never had anything like that before.

MOSTOFI: Pete and I used to joke that if he weren't straight edge, he would have likely been sent to prison or worse at some point before Fall Out Boy. Pete has a predisposition to addictive behavior and chemical dependency. This is something we talked about a lot back in the day. Straight Edge helped him avoid some of the traps of adolescence.

WENTZ: I was straight edge at the time. I don't think our band would have been so successful without that. The bands we were touring with were partying like crazy. Straight Edge helped solidify the relationship between the four of us. We were playing for the love of music, not for partying or girls or stuff like that. We liked being little maniacs running around. Hurley and I were kind of the younger brothers of the hardcore kids we were in bands with. This was an attempt to get out of that shadow a little bit. Nobody is going to compare this band to Racetraitor. You know when you don't want to do exactly what your dad or older brother does? There was a little bit of that.

"Take This To Your Grave, And I'll Take It To Mine" - The Legacy of Take This To Your Grave, 2003-2023

Take This To Your Grave represents a time before the paparazzi followed Wentz to Starbucks, before marriages and children, Disney soundtracks, and all the highs and lows of an illustrious career. The album altered the course for everyone involved with its creation. Crush Music added Miley Cyrus, Green Day, and Weezer to their roster. Fueled By Ramen signed Twenty One Pilots, Paramore, A Day To Remember, and All Time Low.

STUMP: I'm so proud of Take This To Your Grave. I had no idea how much people were going to react to it. I didn't know Fall Out Boy was that good of a band. We were this shitty post-hardcore band that decided to do a bunch of pop-punk before I went to college, and Pete went back to opening for Hatebreed. That was the plan. Somehow this record happened. To explain to people now how beautiful and accidental that record was is difficult. It seems like it had to have been planned, but no, we were that shitty band that opened for 25 Ta Life.

HURLEY: We wanted to make a record as perfect as Saves The Day's Through Being Cool. A front-to-back perfect collection of songs. That was our obsession with Take This To Your Grave. We were just trying to make a record that could be compared in any way to that record. There's just something special about when the four of us came together.

WENTZ: It blows my mind when I hear people talking about Take This To Your Grave or see people including it on lists because it was just this tiny personal thing. It was very barebones. That was all we had, and we gave everything we had to it. Maybe that's how these big iconic bands feel about those records, too. Perhaps that's how James Hetfield feels when we talk about Kill 'Em All. That album was probably the last moment many people had of having us as their band that their little brother didn't know about. I have those feelings about certain bands, too. 'This band was mine. That was the last time I could talk about them at school without anyone knowing who the fuck I was talking about.' That was the case with Take This To Your Grave.

TROHMAN: Before Save Rock N' Roll, there was a rumor that we would come back with one new song and then do a Take This To Your Grave tenth-anniversary tour. But we weren't going to do what people thought we would do. We weren't going to [wear out] our old material by just returning from the hiatus with a Take This To Your Grave tour.

WENTZ: We've been asked why we haven't done a Take This To Your Grave tour. In some ways, it's more respectful not to do that. It would feel like we were taking advantage of where that record sits, what it means to people and us.

HURLEY: When Metallica released Death Magnetic, I loved the record, but I feel like Load and Reload were better in a way, because you knew that's what they wanted to do.

TROHMAN: Some people want us to make Grave again, but I'm not 17. It would be hard to do something like that without it being contrived. Were proud of those songs. We know that’s where we came from. We know the album is an important part of our history.

STUMP: There's always going to be a Take This To Your Grave purist fan who wants that forever: But no matter what we do, we cannot give you 2003. It'll never happen again. I know the feeling, because I've lived it with my favorite bands, too. But there's a whole other chunk of our fans who have grown with us and followed this journey we're on. We were this happy accident that somehow came together. It’s tempting to plagarize yourself. But it’s way more satisfying and exciting to surprise yourself.

MCILRITH: Fall Out Boy is an important band for so many reasons. I know people don't expect the singer of Rise Against to say that, but they really are. If nothing else, they created so much dialog and conversation within not just a scene but an international scene. They were smart. They got accused of being this kiddie pop punk band, but they did smart things with their success. I say that, especially as a guy who grew up playing in the same Chicago hardcore bands that would go on and confront be-ing a part of mainstream music. Mainstream music and the mainstream world are machines that can chew your band up if you don't have your head on straight when you get into it. It's a fast-moving river, and you need to know what direction you're going in before you get into it. If you don't and you hesitate, it'll take you for a ride. Knowing those guys, they went into it with a really good idea. That's something that the hardcore instilled in all of us. Knowing where you stand on those things, we cut our teeth on the hardcore scene, and it made us ready for anything that the world could throw at us, including the giant music industry.

[yandere-romanticaa]

As a request, may I ask please for a reader running away from the Fatui debt collector and ending up by getting caught by Childe ?

The strong regard in which the Fatui held their contracts in could almost rival the nation of Liyue itself. By signing your name on the paper you signed off your entire life away, perhaps even your very soul if the situation or person called for it. The Fatui were rolling in mora and their Harbingers were some of the richest people to ever grace Teyvat. Their bankers know what they are doing, no penny is ever left unchecked and all of the clients pay what they are owed, no matter the cost.

You were one of those unfortunate clients.

On paper, their professionalism was okay, maybe even great if you're delusional enough. But everything came at a cost and you realized that the Fatui were only ever interested in keeping their side of the contract intact.

After mysteriously being laid off your job and losing every earthly possession you ever owned, you were left with no options other than to turn to the Northernland Bank. Despite its somewhat sketchy reputation there was also a decent amount of individuals who were quite pleased with the banks services, which is exactly why you felt all the more urged to go there. Everything was going smoothly for the first few months. You managed to pay rent and get some other basic necessities in order such as food and clothes but you were still far from the safe zone. You never managed to pay your debts on time which made the clerk at the bank frustrated with you.

"We can be kind to you only for so long." she'd say.

"Don't make the same mistake again."

You promised her that you wouldn't and you intended to keep that promise.

Unfortunately, life almost never plays out the way we want it to.

After weeks of endless job hunts, no one wanted to take you. It made no sense whatsoever! You had no criminal record, were always diligent on your previous job and had no enemies. Whenever you'd have an interview the people behind the counter would always be quick to shush you and tell you that they could not take you in. The last place you applied for, a small flower shop, was so quick to turn you down that it should be considered the world record. The moment you said your name out loud it was as if a switch was pressed and the owner switched gears entirely. Her demeanor went from calm and sweet to anxious and downright terrified as her entire body started shaking. She was beyond forceful as she shoved you out the door and told, no, begged you to not come back, ever.

In those brief moments you shared with the woman she became fear personified. You never understood why but right now that didn't matter.

Not when Fatui agents were pursuing you in the darkness of the night.

They were like the harrowing winter wind, sharp and swift. They barged into your home and demanded you pay what you owed unless you wished for more serious consequences to take place. The hooded agent pressed his large blade against your neck and his fire red eyes tore into you, daring you to make a move.

He was not expecting you to actually do something, let alone kick him in the shin.

A cryo mage and a hydro skirmisher were hot on your tail but you managed to quickly outrun them.

Panting, you hid behind a large pile of wooden crates near the harbor. There was little to no light aside from the stars, providing you ample cover against your assailants. This wasn't unfortunately only an advantage for you alone as they too could make use of this darkness. Not only were you outnumbered but also found to be completely and utterly defenseless. With little to no combat training and no vision to speak of, this endless chase became more and more unbearable. Options were also limited - keep hiding and make a run for it outside of the city but risk getting chased all over the content or come out of hiding and face the music.

Neither option was good. Death was all but guaranteed. The Fatui did not understand the concept of mercy.

That was a sentiment that the 11th Harbinger knew all to well.

He watched you from a window, ocean blue eyes tailing after every single move of yours. His chin rested on his hand while the other toyed with a white glaze lilly that grew close next to him, the soft petals providing him a much needed source of silly entertainment. In his eyes you were this glaze lilly - gentle, beautiful. Easy to break. It took him no effort whatsoever to tear your life to shreds and keep you docile. Tartaglia was a little bitter how you did not remember him back when you were younger, which might be the reason as to why he is being so harsh right now. He always liked to play rough and the sight of you shaking made his blood rush with pure and utter glee. Everything was going according to plan and he could not have been more satisfied. A wicked smirk danced on his lips as he ripped the glaze lilly from the pot, its green stem now firmly in his hands. A wave of determination came over the young man as he let out a quiet laugh to himself.

As fun as this was, he was done. No more games, he was going to have you.

It was time to step into the heart of the action.

Like an acrobat, Childe leaped out of the window and landed gracefully on both his feet, the bow on his back firmly set in place. His fingers twitched in anticipation as he creeped up closer and closer towards you. He was so quiet that not even a mouse could hear him.

It really wasn't your fault for screaming so hard, he thought to himself. Anyone would have gotten scared if someone just came up to them like that. As a matter of fact, he even found it kind of cute!

The shrill screams naturally caught the attention of the people he told to hunt you down and in a flash they stood before the two of you, panting but ready for action. The measley subordinates were, unsurprisingly, startled to see a Harbinger out in the open like this, prompting them to immediately lower their heads and bow deeply.

You were too caught up in your own paranoia to hear Childe mumble a quiet "You are dismissed." command to them. You trembled, fat tears caking your face as the ginger turned to face you, a small smile on his lips. He scared you enough for now, hasn't he? Reaching out towards you he held your quivering body, your face pressed deeply against his chest as you wept loudly. The grey fabric of his clothing soon turned a much darker shade due to the heavy tears but you could not care less.

Tired, you were so tired.

Despite having no clue to the identity of the man who held you so gently, there was absolutely no chance you were letting him go. You made your decision right there and then - snaking your arms around his thin waist you stayed like that as you let out everything out of your system, the pain, the fear and every other dark emotion which clouded your heart, all the while having no clue that your savior was the one who brought out all of this misery to you.

He could be a sadistic bastard, Childe knew this. He went too far in tormenting you and was most surely going to make everything up to you.

Right now though all he could do was sit on the ground and cradle you in his arms as his heart wept alongside yours, but with much different reasons than yours. He was a walking paradox, both the tormentor and the savior. All in due time though, you would grow to love it.

He would make sure of it.

🥀 TAGS: @genshinarchives, @mod-kisa-blog, @juuuuuj101010, @kalopses-sonderes, @b10h4z4rd, @xiaopleasecomehome, @yumekos-gamble, @mayulli, @cc-6789, @saturnalya, @mewmeowmika, @ranposgirlboss

[eunseoksimp]

Entangled; Jung Sungchan

made this on a whim after an excessive amount of listens to house of balloons by the weekend.

Pairings: Boxer!Jung Sungchan x Girlfriend!Reader

Genre: angst

Description: the relationship between you and sungchan is a tumultuous storm, a volatile mix of passion and pain, bound by an intense love that is as toxic as it is profound. sungchan, an underground fighter, using the ring as an outlet for his inner demons and you, clinging to him as you seek solace from your own unhealed wounds. two broken pieces clinging to each other in a toxic dance of dependency and desperation.

Warning: use of swear words, brief mention of substance abuse and alcoholism.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

sungchan shows up at your house, eyes bloodshot, knuckles bruised, and that signature smile of his, the one that always made your heart flutter despite the chaos it signified. but now it only brings a sigh to your lips. you sigh, not even wanting to know what kind of trouble he got into this time, simply opening the door wider, allowing him to lean into your side as you guide him into your dimly lit apartment. the weight of his body against yours feels both familiar and burdensome, like an old, tattered blanket that you can’t seem to discard.

you sway all the way into your bedroom, his weight heavy against you until you stumble into your bedroom. he looks at you for a second, as if trying to see if you would allow him to jump onto your bed the way he is. his gaze is a silent question, but he knows how much you hate outside clothes touching your covers. with a shake of your head and the best shot of a disapproving look, he clicks his tongue but nevertheless shrugs his jacket off of his shoulders, obeying your rules. his jacket lands on the floor with a soft thud, a harbinger of the troubles he brought with him.

you watch as he clicks the clasp off his watch, slipping it off his wrist in one swift move and placing it on your dressing table. there's a practiced grace in his movements, a dance you've witnessed countless times. he reaches one hand from behind him to grab the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, ruffling his hair before it’s discarded on the floor. you’ve seen him many times in this state, his top always coming off first because he knew you liked to peek at his muscles. his body, a canvas of old scars and fresh bruises that littered the expanse of his back, speaks of a history written in pain and conflict.

‘want me to give you a little strip show?’  he teases, fingers brushing against the buckle of his belt, his eyebrow quirking up before he relaxes it. his voice, tinged with a playful mockery, is an echo of better days when his teasing would have made you laugh. now, it only deepens the chasm of despair between you.

‘hurry up and get into bed. It’s cold,’ you reply, your voice betraying a weariness that matches the dim light of the room. the cold isn’t just physical; it’s an ever-present chill in the air, a manifestation of the emotional void that has grown between you.

he obeys, giving you a two-fingered salute and a boyish grin before unbuckling his belt and slipping out of his jeans, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. his body, though battered, still carries an allure that tugs at your heartstrings. you turn away, not wanting to let your gaze linger too long on the marks of his latest escapade, the reminders of a life he refuses to abandon.

sliding under the covers, he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you with a desperate intensity. you nestle into his chest, inhaling the scent of sweat and faint cologne, a mixture that has become a bittersweet comfort. his heartbeat, steady but troubled, is a metronome to the silent symphony of your shared sorrow.

you both lie there, staring at the ceiling, the dim light casting shadows that dance around the room like ghosts of your past. His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you closer. you can feel the tension in his body, the unspoken pain he's trying to hide.

‘rough night?’ you ask softly, your fingers tracing the contours of his bruised knuckles.

‘you could say that,’ he murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion. ‘but it’s better now. i’m here with you.’

you close your eyes, wanting to believe his words, to find solace in the illusion that everything is normal. but the truth is inescapable: you are both prisoners of a toxic love, bound together by pain and passion. his presence, once a source of joy, has become a reminder of the endless cycle of hurt and reconciliation.

it was impossible, for two broken people to try and mend each other’s hearts, and yet here you both were. sungchan engaged with underground boxing to keep his demons at bay, to control the anger that burned deep inside him to the ring alone. and you continued to be with a man whose habits of danger and thrill-seeking often left you in sorrow, the possessiveness he felt over you seeming like love due to the poor examples of it you had as a model.

‘ i wish you’d stop doing this to yourself,’ you whisper, your voice breaking. ‘to us.’

he sighs, a sound heavy with resignation. he doesn’t respond immediately. instead, he tightens his grip on you, as if holding on to you can keep him from falling apart.

 ‘i can’t change who i am. and you... you can’t seem to let go of me, even though you know it’s killing you.’

the words hang in the air, a bitter truth that neither of you can deny. you cling to each other, seeking warmth in the cold emptiness of your relationship.  you stay because you can’t let go, because the pain has become a part of you, a twisted proof of your connection.

 his hands, rough and calloused, move gently over your back, a gesture that once brought comfort but now feels like a plea for forgiveness. you shift slightly, turning to face him. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the mask he wears slips away. you see the vulnerability, the hurt, and the longing. it’s a mirror of your own soul, reflecting back all the things you’ve tried to hide.

‘maybe we’re just broken,’ you say, your voice barely audible. ‘maybe this is all we deserve.’

sungchan tightens his grip on you, as if trying to hold together the fragile pieces of your shattered love. 

‘maybe. but i’d rather be broken with you than whole without you,’ he closes his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face as his voice slightly cracks.

tears sting your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the pain you both carry. his words, though meant to be comforting, only deepen the wound. you lie there in the darkness, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, each inhale and exhale a reminder of the life you’ve built on a foundation of hurt.

he pulls you closer and there’s a desperate hunger in his kiss, a need to reassure both of you that this is real, that this is worth the pain. his lips are rough against yours, his hands clutching at you like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline. you respond with equal fervor, pouring all your confusion and heartache into the kiss, hoping to find some semblance of solace.

but the solace never comes. instead, you’re left with a hollow ache, a reminder of how broken you both are. you pull away, breathless, and bury your face in his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. it’s a rhythm you’ve come to rely on, a reminder that despite everything, you’re still here, still together.

in the quiet of the night, the apartment feels like a mausoleum, a resting place for the ghosts of your past. the dim light casts shadows on the walls, flickering images of the dreams you once shared, now distorted by the harsh reality of your love. the bed, once a sanctuary, has become a battleground where you both fight to hold on to something that is slipping away.

‘i love you,’ he whispers, pulling you out of your thoughts, his voice filled with a desperate sincerity. it’s a declaration that should bring joy, but instead, it feels like a dagger to your heart.

‘i love you too,’ you reply, the words tasting of ash. love, for you both, has become synonymous with pain, a beautiful lie that you can’t help but cling to.

sungchan’s voice, when he speaks again, was filled with a bittersweet mixture of resignation and affection. ‘we’re a mess, aren’t we?’ he said with a rueful chuckle, the sound tinged with a sadness that mirrored the shadows on the walls.

‘yeah,’ you agreed, a sad smile playing on your lips. but we’re our mess.’ your words hung in the air, a delicate thread of understanding that connected you both in your shared chaos.

he sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of his internal battles, and pulled you closer. ‘i don’t know what I’d do without you,’he confessed, his voice cracking with vulnerability. 

‘you’d survive,’ you said softly, your voice a gentle balm to his wounded soul. ‘you always do.’ you traced the lines of his face with your fingers, each touch a silent vow of your love and commitment.

‘but I don’t want to just survive,’ he replied, his voice filled with a longing that tugged at your heart. ‘i want to live, to really live, and I don’t know how to do that without you.’ 

You don’t know how to respond to that. Instead, you just hold him tighter, as if that could somehow make everything better. But deep down, you both know it won’t. You’re stuck in a cycle of love and pain, unable to break free but unwilling to let go.

as the night stretches on, you drift into a restless sleep, haunted by dreams of what could have been. in your dreams, you see a life where love doesn’t hurt, where his eyes aren’t bloodshot and his knuckles aren’t bruised. but when you wake, the reality is unyielding, a stark reminder that you are trapped in a cycle of your own making.

morning comes, casting a pale light over the room and you watch as the sun slowly rises, bringing with it a new day. but there’s no sense of renewal, no promise of a fresh start. it’s just another day in the endless cycle you’ve found yourselves trapped in.

 he stirs beside you, his movements slow and deliberate. you watch as he sits up, his back to you, the weight of his actions evident in the slump of his shoulders.

‘i’m sorry,’ he says, finally breaking the silence, not turning to look at you. the words, though heartfelt, feel like a cruel joke. sorry isn’t enough to heal the wounds, to erase the nights of pain and the days of longing.

‘i know,” you reply, your voice devoid of emotion. it’s a conversation you’ve had countless times, each one a repetition of the same hollow promises.

he stands, reaching for his discarded clothes, the bed feeling colder and emptier without him, ironically mirroring the effect he seemed to have on your life. you watch in silence as he dresses, the familiar routine a painful reminder of the transient nature of your moments together. when he’s fully clothed, he turns to you, his eyes pleading for understanding.

‘will you be okay?’ he asks, the question heavy with unspoken fears.

‘i always am,’ you lie, forcing a smile. it's a lie you both choose to believe because the truth is too painful to face.

he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. ‘i’ll be back tonight.’

you nod, knowing that the cycle will continue, that tonight will bring the same mix of joy and despair. as he leaves, the apartment feels even colder, the silence a deafening reminder of your solitude.

you sit there for a long time, staring at the door he walked through, wondering if there will ever come a day when you can let go. the love you share is a beautiful poison, one that you can’t seem to quit, even though you know it’s slowly killing you both. the echoes of your conversations linger in the air, a haunting reminder of the love and pain you share.

you finally get up, moving through the motions of your morning routine. but everything feels hollow, your heart heavy with the weight of your relationship. you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, seeing the tired eyes and the lines of worry etched into your face.

you think about the love you have for him, the way it consumes you. it’s a love that’s both beautiful and destructive, a force that binds you together even as it tears you apart. you wonder if things will ever change, if you’ll ever find the strength to let go.

but for now, you’re stuck in this endless loop, holding on to each other because the alternative is too terrifying to consider. you find a twisted comfort in the pain, a sense of normalcy in the chaos. it’s not healthy, but it’s all you’ve ever known.

you go about your day, trying to push the thoughts of him to the back of your mind. but he’s always there, a constant presence in your heart and mind. you can’t escape him, can’t escape the love you have for him, no matter how much it hurts.

as the day turns to night, you find yourself back in your apartment, the loneliness weighing heavily on you. you lie in bed, staring at the empty space beside you, waiting for him to come back to you, just like he promised. you know he’ll be back, that you’ll repeat the same cycle again. and despite everything, you find a strange comfort in that.

the living room is bathed in the soft, flickering light of a lone lamp, casting elongated shadows that stretch and wane across the walls. the clock on the mantle ticks away, each second echoing through the silence, a metronome marking the passage of time. you sit on the edge of the couch, a book in hand, its pages unread as your eyes repeatedly drift to the front door. the weight of anticipation hangs heavy in the air, a tangible presence that presses down on your chest.

outside, the night is alive with the distant hum of traffic and the occasional burst of laughter from passersby. it contrasts starkly with the oppressive quiet of the apartment, where the silence seems almost accusatory, reminding you of the countless nights spent in similar fashion. your phone lies beside you on the coffee table, screen dark and unbothered by any messages or calls. you don't bother picking it up to check; you already know.

the hours pass slowly, each one a reminder of your solitude, and yet he doesn’t return. it used to make your heart leap, bad thoughts circling your mind as you think about all the terrible situations he might have gotten in to. but you knew him too well now. you knew all too well that it just meant he was engaging in another night of his hedonistic pleasures, probably because he won his fight, surrounded by alcohol and loud music whilst consuming substances that he knew wasn’t good for him.

it wasn’t that you thought he would cheat, in fact that was the least of your worries. it was all just unhealthy, being wrapped up in a life of substance-fueled debauchery and distractions, a cry for help and it brings a bitter taste to your mouth. you’ve been here before, and the script always plays out the same.

you glance at the clock again—11:30 pm. each minute feels like an hour, and the realization slowly settles over you like a cold, damp blanket. he’s not coming home tonight. the knowledge seeps into your bones, a familiar ache that you've grown accustomed to. there's no anger left, no fiery resentment. just a dull, throbbing disappointment that pulses in rhythm with your heartbeat.

with a heavy sigh, you rise from the couch. the room feels larger in his absence, the silence more pronounced. you make your way to the bedroom, the soft thud of your footsteps the only sound accompanying you.

you slip under the covers, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the warmth you long for. the ceiling stares back at you, an expanse of darkness dotted with the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. memories of happier times flood your mind, unbidden and unwelcomed as you try to push them away, focusing instead on the present, on the reality of your situation.

the phone remains silent on the nightstand but you don’t reach for it. there’s no point. instead, you close your eyes, willing sleep to come and take you away from the disappointment, if only for a few hours.

you finally drift off to sleep, your dreams filled with images of him. in your dreams, things are different. there’s no pain, no conflict. just love, pure and simple.but dreams are just that – dreams. the reality is much harsher, much more complicated. you wake up to the same emptiness, the same ache in your heart and you know that nothing will change, that you’re trapped in this toxic dance with no end in sight.

the next night arrives, and with it, the familiar sound of a brisk knock on the door. you know who  it is as you fiddle with your locks; sungchan, with bloodshot eyes and bruised knuckles, his signature smile plastered across his face and you feel the familiar pull in your chest. he’s your addiction, the one thing you can’t quit even though you know it’s destroying you. he steps into your embrace, and for a moment, you forget the pain, lose yourself in the illusion of love.

but deep down, you know that this isn’t sustainable, that one day the weight of your combined sorrows will crush you both. until then, you continue to cling to each other, finding fleeting moments of solace in the midst of your shared suffering.

the smell of alcohol wafts in with him, mingling with the night air, and you know immediately that he’s drunk. his steps are unsteady, yet his grin is wide, a mask that hides the weariness and turmoil beneath.

‘i’m sorry about last night,’  he slurs, leaning heavily against the doorframe and you’re pulled back into your reality. 

‘got caught up in the moment. the partying, the fun... i didn’t want to disturb you, you hate when i drink, but i’m really trying.’

you stand there, feeling the weight of his words press down on you, each one a reminder of the empty hours you spent waiting. but anger is a luxury you can't afford anymore. instead, you focus on the task at hand, channeling your energy into taking care of him. 

with gentle hands you guide him to your bathroom, peeling off the heavy leather jacket that clings to him, the one he cherishes so much. it smells of smoke and sweat, a testament to the night he’s had. next, you work on his jeans, the ones he wears like a second skin, stained and frayed from countless nights like these.

he tries to kiss you, his breath hot and sour against your cheek and his arms, though unsteady, reach for you, seeking solace in your embrace. but you turn your head, dodging his attempts at affection. each dodge feels like a small betrayal to your heart, which still beats for him despite everything. resentment tugs at your heartstrings, a discordant melody that drowns out the love you still feel. why couldn’t he be a normal boyfriend? someone who showed up when he promised, who took you out more, who came home more. someone who didn’t burden you with the weight of his absences and the chaos he brought with him.

‘let’s get you to bed,’ you murmur after helping him wash up and change into new clothes, hoping that sleep would sober him up as you take his hand and lead him to your room. he stumbles along, his laughter a hollow echo in the small space. you keep your touch gentle but firm, your heart a fortress against the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. 

once he’s settled under the covers, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching him. his eyes flutter closed, a sigh escaping his lips, the bruises on his knuckles standing out starkly against his pale skin, a silent testament to the battles he fights, both inside and out. you reach out, your fingers brushing against the bruises, feeling the rough texture of broken skin.

the words you long to say choke you, each one a thorn you bury deep within. you love him—god, how you love him—but you’re tired. tired of the waiting, of the disappointment, of the endless cycle of highs and lows. you swallow hard, pushing the bitterness down, burying it beneath layers of resignation and care.

he mumbles something incoherent, his hand reaching out to find yours. you let him take it, feeling the warmth of his grip, the way his fingers curl around yours. in this moment, despite everything, you still find a small piece of solace. because even though he’s broken, and even though he breaks you a little more each time, you still love him. and that love, for now, is enough to keep you here.

as the night wears on, you lie in bed together, his arms around you, your heart is heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled wishes, holding on to the fragile hope that somehow, love will be enough to save you. but in the silence, you both know the truth: love, in its purest form, is supposed to heal, not hurt. and yet, you choose to remain, bound by a toxic devotion that neither of you can escape.

in the end, the saddest part isn’t the pain or the bruises or the tears. it’s the realization that you’ve mistaken suffering for love, that you’ve built a life on a foundation of hurt. and as you drift into another restless sleep, you can’t help but wonder if there will ever come a day when you can truly let go.

you can’t help but wonder if there will ever come a time when he chooses you over the chaos.

morning light filters through the thin curtains, casting a soft, muted glow across the room. you wake up first, as always, lying in silent resignation as you watch sungchan sleep. his face is a picture of peace, a stark contrast to the turmoil of the previous night. you trace the contours of his face with your eyes, noting the faint lines of exhaustion and the bruises that mar his knuckles. there’s a fleeting moment of tenderness as you remember why you fell in love with him, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the weight of disappointment.

eventually, he stirs, eyes fluttering open, confusion swimming in his irises. his gaze darts around the room until recognition dawns, and you see the realization settle in. he doesn’t remember much, but he knows he messed up. T

the room is enveloped in a heavy silence, the kind that presses down on you, making it hard to breathe. you both look at each other, hearts too heavy to speak. he knows you’re tired of his apologies, and you’re tired of demanding them. the unspoken understanding hangs between you, thick and suffocating.

guilt gnaws at him, and you watch as he chews on his chapped bottom lip, a habit that betrays his inner turmoil. you furiously pick at the dead skin around your nails, needing a distraction, something to focus on other than the pain in your heart.

‘i’m—” he starts, his voice cracking.

‘don’t,’ you cut him off, your voice low but firm. ‘just don’t.’

he looks down, his shoulders slumping as the weight of his actions settles over him. ‘i’m sorry,’ he whispers, unable to stop himself.

your jaw tightens, and you shake your head, slipping out from under the covers, the floor cold against your bare feet as you make your way to the living room, the weight of his gaze following you. he scrambles after you, pathetically, desperately trying to make amends with gestures instead of words. he hugs you from behind, his arms wrapping around you with a familiar warmth, and places a kiss on the crown of your head. the tenderness of the moment is almost painful, a reminder of what you once had and what’s slowly slipping away.

‘please,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice thick with regret. ‘i’ll do better. i promise.”

‘you always promise,’ you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you step out of his arms. ‘but nothing changes.’

he disappears into the bedroom with a sigh, leaving you standing there, a storm of emotions swirling within you. when he re-emerges, he’s wearing some of his old clothes he must have found in your cupboard. the sight of him in those familiar clothes stirs something in you, a bittersweet ache that tugs at your heart.

‘can we at least talk about it later?’ he asks, his eyes pleading, drawing close to you again, littering you with kisses down your neck.

you nod, not trusting yourself to speak. the words you want to say are lodged in your throat, too painful to voice. ‘fine,’ you manage to get out.

‘we’ll talk later, i promise we will,’ he says again, the words hanging in the air like a promise and a burden. then with one more kiss to your cheek, and a lingering look filled with pleading he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him.

you stand in the middle of the living room, feeling the emptiness settle around you. the silence is deafening, filled with all the things you wish you could say but can’t. you sink into the couch, pulling a blanket around you as if it could shield you from the reality of your situation. the ache in your heart is a constant, a reminder of the struggle between your love for him and the pain he causes you. and as the morning light grows brighter, you can't help but wonder how many more mornings like this you can endure before you break.

the cycle continues, the pain and the love intertwined in a never-ending dance. and you hold on, because it’s all you know, because letting go is too terrifying to consider.

you find yourselves in each other’s arms, seeking comfort in the familiarity of your pain. you whisper words of love and apology, trying to mend the broken pieces of your hearts. but it’s never enough. the wounds run too deep, the scars too numerous.

as the days turn into weeks, then months, the pattern remains unchanged. you both cling to each other, desperate and afraid, but unable to break free. the world outside your apartment moves on, but inside, time stands still. each day blurs into the next, a monotonous loop of fleeting highs and devastating lows.

one particularly stormy evening, as you sit alone in your apartment, the rain beating against the windows like a relentless drum, the stormy night outside mirrors the turmoil inside your heart. you hear a knock at the door and your heart leaps in your chest, a mixture of dread and anticipation coursing through your veins. you already know who it is before you even open the door.

he stands there, soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his forehead, and that familiar, weary smile on his lips. his eyes are red-rimmed, and there’s a fresh cut above his eyebrow. you don’t ask what happened; you stopped asking a long time ago. instead, you step aside, letting him in, the warmth of your apartment a stark contrast to the cold, wet world outside.

you lead him to the bedroom, your hands gently guiding him, and he follows without protest. the routine is familiar, almost comforting in its predictability. he sheds his wet clothes, the fabric pooling on the floor like the remnants of a forgotten promise and you hand him a towel, watching as he dries off and slips into a pair of sweatpants. 

his bare feet pad softly on the carpet as he approaches the bed, a vulnerable warrior seeking solace. you pull back the covers, and he slips beneath them, the warmth of his body mingling with yours. the familiar scent of him, a mix of cologne, sweat, and something uniquely his, envelops you. you lie side by side, the silence between you thick, a palpable presence that neither of you can ignore.

you reach out, your fingers tracing the bruises on his knuckles, each one a dark bloom of pain. he winces slightly but doesn’t pull away, letting you touch the evidence of his inner demons. you know his battles are as much with himself as they are with the world outside.

‘i wish things could be different,’ you say, your voice barely audible in the darkness.

‘so do i. i wish i was a better person, for you,’he replies, his breath warm against your neck.

but wishing is not enough, you both know that. the cycle will continue, a never-ending loop of love and pain, of passion and despair. you are both prisoners of your own making, trapped in a love that is as toxic as it is intoxicating.

‘you don’t have to do this,” you say after a while, your heart aching with a mixture of love and frustration. ‘you don’t have to fight. you don’t have to drown your problems with alcohol or burn all of your battles.’

he turns his head to look at you, his eyes dark and stormy. ‘and what about you? you think I don’t see the hurt in your eyes? we’re both fighting, in our own ways.’

you close your eyes, the truth of his words cutting deep. you’re both prisoners of this toxic dance, unwilling to let go even as it tears you apart. love, you’ve come to believe, is supposed to hurt. the illusion that everything is normal, that this is how it’s meant to be, is a comforting lie you both cling to.

‘i hate seeing you like this,’ you admit, your voice trembling.

he reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek. ‘i hate it too,’ he says softly, his thumb brushing away a tear. ‘but I can’t stop. and neither can you.’

the words hang in the air, a bitter acknowledgment of your shared fate. he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that is both tender and desperate, a silent plea for connection amidst the chaos. you respond, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. the kiss deepens, a fiery exchange that speaks of longing and regret, of passion and pain.

you break apart, breathless and trembling. ‘stay,’ you whisper, your voice a fragile thread.

‘ i will,’ he replies, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that borders on obsession. ‘i always do.’

the storm outside rages on, mirroring the tempest within your souls. you know this is a temporary reprieve, a fleeting moment of peace in a sea of turmoil. but for now, it is enough.

the wind howls through the cracks in the windows, a mournful song that underscores the fragility of your peace. you hold each other tighter, as if by sheer force of will you can keep the storm at bay. his breath is warm against your neck, a stark contrast to the cold dread that gnaws at your heart. you can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat, a rhythmic reminder of the life you’ve built together, even as it threatens to crumble.

in the quiet moments, between the whispers and the kisses, you catch glimpses of the man you fell in love with—the man who makes you laugh, who holds you when you cry, who promises you the world even as he stumbles through his own battles. those glimpses are what keep you tethered, what make the pain bearable. they are the fleeting moments of sunlight breaking through the storm clouds, offering a ray of hope that things might one day be different.

but as dawn approaches, the reality of your situation settles back in. the night has given you a reprieve, but the problems remain, lurking in the corners of your mind, waiting for the light of day to bring them back into sharp focus. you know that the cycle will continue, that the highs will be followed by lows, that the love you share will be tested time and again.

the first light of morning seeps through the curtains and you know the illusion is about to shatter. he will leave again, drawn back to the battles he fights, and you will remain, your heart aching with the emptiness his absence leaves behind.

he turns to you, his expression unreadable. ‘take care,’ his words are a hollow echo of what you both wish could be.

‘you too,’ you reply, your voice thick with unshed tears.

he leaves, the door closing behind him with a soft click and you lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of your reality pressing down on you. the silence is deafening, the emptiness a stark reminder of the void in your heart.

because in this twisted dance of love and pain, you have found a perverse sense of belonging. you have convinced yourself that this is what love is meant to be, that the hurt is a necessary part of the equation. and as long as he keeps coming back, you will continue to believe the lie.

for now, you cling to the moments of tenderness, the fleeting glimpses of happiness that punctuate the darkness. you tell yourself that it is enough, that this is all you deserve. when you lie alone in the dim light of your bedroom, you whisper a silent prayer to a god you no longer believe in, hoping for a miracle that will never come.

the pattern of your lives becomes a relentless cycle, a vicious circle you cannot break free from. each time he leaves, the void he leaves behind grows deeper, the ache in your heart more pronounced. and yet, when he returns, battered and broken, you welcome him with open arms, unable to resist the pull he has over you.

[irisisawittywitch]

𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 ��𝐫𝐢𝐬

𖤍—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—𖤍

𖤍—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—𖤍

Fleet-footed Iris, swift as the storm,

golden-winged goddess, I call out to you.

Daughter of Thaumus, ancient one of the sea,

and bright-lit Elektra of the thunderhead,

sister of the fearsome Harpies, I honor your might.

Iris of the rainbow, many-colored goddess,

handmaid and herald of deep-eyed Hera,

yours is a duty needful and grave;

messenger and courier, you speak with the voice

of all Olympus–the Trojans and the Argonauts

did tremble at your words. Harbinger of hope,

goddess of the new day, I pray to you

Source: Underflow - Prayers to the Gods of Olympus