Chapter 5 - Tumblr Posts
All the Time We’ve Got-- Chapter Five, “Speculation”
“That’s amazing, Marinette!” Chloe said through the phone later that night. “I remember when mine first beeped and I turned and looked at Kagami— god, you know how hot she looks in her fencing uniform? You know. It felt amazing, her looking back at me and everything just coming together.”
“Show off.”
“Sorry, bug! I just mean that when you find whoever this person is, you’ll know. Which will be really helpful, especially because you must be the only people I’ve ever heard of who missed each other like that and were aware they missed each other.”
“What about two people on trains going opposite directions on close tracks?”
“Would there even be enough time for the counter to count that? Like, trains go really fast. You were in a crowd with people walking so slow it hurts. God, I hate even thinking about foot traffic like that.”
“Not helping!” Marinette told her.
Chloe scoffed. “Excuse you, everything I say is helpful! Right, babe?” Marinette heard a laugh in the background, and Kagami’s voice came through the phone.
“Marinette, what you need to do is be vigilant. Go back there tomorrow every chance you get, and keep going back until they show up. Keep an eye on your counter at all times. Try to pay attention to which people pass multiple times while you’re watching. You aren’t going to get anything done by letting Chloe give you advice and sitting in your room by yourself.”
***
Marinette was never one to turn down Kagami’s advice. The other girl always knew just what to say, even if that something was blunt and often unexpected. So she camped out on a bench in the quad for almost four hours that Saturday, hoping her soulmate would walk by at some point.
The next four hours passed relatively slowly. Marinette may or may not have zoned out once or twice, but fortunately her counter didn’t change while she wasn’t paying attention. Or was that unfortunate? She wasn’t sure if she would rather miss seeing her soulmate again but know they were in the same area as she was or never see her counter change again and never worry about more missed moments between them. They both seemed like terrible options.
After hour five came and went, her computer was about to die. Of course, she had left her charger in her room. Stupid technology. Stupid forgetfulness. Oh, well, she thought to herself. I can come back tomorrow, right?
Unfortunately, she could not. Every time she tried to go back that week, something came up that prevented her from going to search for her soulmate again. Teachers holding the class back for an extra twenty minutes, meetings with her advisor to talk about adjusting to American college life, her roommate Allegra dragging her to club meetings and some new Japanese restaurant off-campus, Adrien or Chloe calling her between classes, and so on. She became increasingly anxious about the whole situation, to the point where she could barely take her eyes off of her wrist, even when she was alone in her room.
“Mari, you’ve got to stop looking at that thing and live a little!” Allegra told her roommate, who had been curled up on her bed for the last two hours, not taking her eyes off the counter. Allegra truly wasn’t sure if Marinette had blinked at all during that time. It had been eight days at that point since her counter changed. “Come on, we’re going out tonight.”
“But it’s a Thursday.”
“You’ve never heard of Thirsty Thursday?”
Marinette shook her head in response.
“I guess it’s not a thing outside of the US. Basically, it’s an extra night of getting drunk and partying. But you don’t have to drink to have a good time!” she added, starting to rummage through her closet. “Come on, pick out something cute and we can head over to that karaoke bar I was telling you about the other day. I still haven’t gotten a chance to go yet, so this is the perfect opportunity!” “But I-”
“No buts. This is the perfect opportunity to get your mind off of your soulmate for a few hours, and we can have some quality roomie bonding time!” She held up a short powder-blue dress with a ruffled shoulder and asymmetrical hem. “What do you think?”
Marinette smiled. “I love it. But are you sure it’s a good idea to go off-campus so late?”
“It’s really close, I promise. Just two blocks from the dorms. What are you wearing?” Marinette groaned and stood up, dragging herself over to her closet and sifting through the countless finished dresses she’d made for herself in the last year or so that she’d chosen to bring with her. She finally pulled out a dark red knee-length dress with a golden trim around the hem and short sleeves. She also grabbed a golden hairpin (one that looked very similar to the bee miraculous). “What do you think?”
“Ugh, I love it! Put it on, put it on! I think we can be out of here by nine. How does that sound to you?”
“Yeah, that should be good. But to be honest, I am a little… apprehensive?”
“It’ll be fine, I promise! We’ll have fun, forget our sorrows for a few hours, and come back and crash.”
“If you say so.”
———————————————————————————————————
Here you go! Finally, a decent length chapter! Also yes, it’s up so soon after the last one! Just a warning; this is the last pre-written chapter, so the next few may be slow to be posted. I’m in schol right now, so I only get so much time to write for myself, you know?
All chapters up on Ao3!
TAG LIST:
@shreky-boi @normal-piece-of-shit @yuulxd @littleredrobinhoodlum @beaversuenightly @rudy-ruby @violatiger8 @interobanginyourmom @sassydepression @urbanpineapplefarmer @poshplumcot @my-name-is-michell @northernbluetongue @zerotosiki @astridflies @miraculous-simmer7 @crazylittlemunchkin @heldtogetherbysafetypins @luciferge @fandomfan315 @be-happy-every-day-please @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @emotionalsupportginger @7-sage-7
Find me on Ao3 and Ko-fi @magic-miraculous! :)
Daminette December-- So Close (And Yet So Far), Chapter Five “Fire”
———————————————————————————————————–
Usually, it took Marinette about five minutes to get back to her dorm from most of the main buildings on campus. Damian was a fast walker, so they got there in closer to three. But it only took about a minute of walking before sirens started ringing through the night air, and another thirty seconds to realize they were coming from outside Marinette’s dorm building.
“What’s going on?” she asked Damian, wondering if he had any ideas.
“Not sure. Hopefully it’s just a false alarm and nobody is hurt.” He made a mental note to contact his father later if the alarm was serious and let him know what happened. “I guess we’ll just wait here until someone gives out more information.”
The two stood on the pathway near the building, surrounded by other students who had been in the building at the time the alarm went off. They were all in various states of dress and distress. Both of them pitied the few kids with soaking wet hair who had to go outside mid-shower.
“Okay. How about we play a game?”
Damian gave her a look. “Depends. What kind of game?”
“Um… what about twenty-one questions? You ask each other questions and the other has to answer truthfully or they have to do something else instead, usually something embarrassing.”
“So, it’s truth or dare, but you automatically start with truth.”
“I guess so?”
“Fine. Should I start, or would you like to?”
Marinette paused for a moment, then responded, “I’ll start. And to be nice, I’ll give you an easy question. What’s your favorite color?”
“Red,” Damian replied. “What about yours?”
“Pink, if you couldn’t tell from the everything about me,” she joked, pointing to her shirt. “Okay, what is one thing you own that you cannot live without?”
Damian wasn’t sure what to say. He obviously couldn’t respond with a weapon, but if he didn’t say anything for such a simple question, he would sound suspicious. “Probably my computer, I presume.”
“That makes sense.” “Yes, I guess it does,” he responded, internally sighing with relief. “Why did you come to Gotham University instead of going to one in Paris?”
“Well, I guess I just needed a change in scenery. In Paris, I would have lived at home and commuted to school each day, and also by coming here I am closer to a good friend in New York, whose mother offered me a job for when I graduate. It just made the most sense.”
“May I ask what kind of job you were offered?”
“Not yet. I get to ask another question first, but I’ll answer that one after you answer mine. What’s your biggest pet peeve?”
“Probably my brothers. Or when idiotic villains terrorize the city. That might be a bit vague, but I can’t think of a better way to put it.”
“No, I understand. I feel the same way about Paris.”
“Paris? How do you mean?”
“With the akumas and all of that from the past few years. The villains have all been defeated, though, so it isn’t an issue anymore, but it was a nuisance.”
Damian made yet another mental note to discuss the previous situation in Paris to his father. Before he could ask more, a man’s voice called out from closer to the building.
“Can I have everyone’s attention, please? Hey!” All chatter stopped. “Thank you. So, someone burned some popcorn, which caused the alarm to go off and the fire department to come all this way to deal with the issue. We’ve talked about this, kids! Please be more careful when making things in the microwave? Do you want to be forced to go to a training seminar or something?”
A smattering of “no’s” and general groans came from the group stuck outside, and the man speaking nodded.
“I didn’t think so. This is your final warning! Have a nice night,” the man ended before walking away from the group to talk to the firefighters again.
“I guess we can go inside now,” Marinette said. “You still up for watching a movie?”
Damian nodded. “It’s still relatively early, and I only live in the building next door after all. All I ask is that we don’t make any popcorn.”
“Deal.”
———————————————————————————————————–
The popcorn fire thing may or may not be based on something that recently happened where I’m living. The world may never know.
All chapters are also up on Ao3!
Tagstagstags:
@daminette-december2019 @ozmav @maribat-archive @dawnwave16 @bluerosette23 @18-fandoms-unite-08 @northernbluetongue @latinawithbooks @blue-peach14 @weird-pale-blonde-person @astridflies @annabellabrookes @iloontjeboontje @abrx2002 @valeks-princess @interobanginyourmom @vixen-uchiha @sofmimis @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thesunanditsangel @crazylittlemunchkin @caffeinetheory @rebecarojas07 @kris-pines04 @mooshoon @winter-gardenflower @corabeth11 @royalchaoticfangirl @goblinwhoships @beaversuenightly (comment/send me an ask if you want to be added! Also, please feel free to lmk if the notifications aren’t working and I’ll my best to fix it!)
COMING UP NEXT: Chapter 6 “Tree”
If It All Fell (3)
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.
Word count: 3.1k
Warnings: Angst (obvi)
a/n: It's about to reallyyyy get started in the next part (I promise there will be fluff in this fic eventually). Thank you so much for reading and interacting with this series ❤️❤️ I love writing it!!
Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆
~~
Mor’s fingers slid along book spines as she circled the room. A fire crackled and popped beneath the mantle, providing ambiance as the blonde retold another story of your life. You, unsure how to move about the space, remained seated in a rather large chair with an uncomfortably low back.
“Gods, you wouldn’t talk to Rhys for a week. He was beside himself,” she laughed, shaking her head in faint fondness. “You refused to stay at the House out of pure spite. That’s when you and Azriel decided—”
She cut herself off, nearly tripping on the ornate rug under your chair.
“When Azriel and I decided what?” you probed.
Mor bit into her lip, taking a large breath. “That story is for another time.”
You hummed, hiding your frustration beneath a close-lipped grin.
A story for another time.
This was your story, and yet, there were so many pieces that weren’t making sense. There was so much being kept from you—you could feel it—but why? Why did Mor omit some things and freely speak of others? Why was the topic of Azriel so… taboo?
Your thoughts traveled back to the lunch yesterday, the way Azriel had abruptly vanished. He hadn’t been able to spend even an hour in your presence. The rest of the meal had been tense, with Cassian attempting to save your feelings by sending subtle jabs Azriel’s way and Mor shooting daggers at the swinging door.
Maybe you and Azriel were enemies? It certainly didn’t feel that way whenever he was around. Granted, you’d only seen him twice since waking up, but those two times weren’t filled with hostility or ire, were they?
Mor moved over to the window. You clenched the cushion of your chair between tense fingers.
Did Azriel not like you?
The thought sent daggers through your chest, which was odd, considering the man had only spoken about four words to you. But… he had to like you, didn’t he? When Mor spoke of your family, of your place in this court, she always included Azriel. He was always some part of the stories of your life.
But that didn’t mean the two of you were friends.
That didn’t mean he liked being around you.
Perhaps the Inner Circle was attempting to rewrite history—reform a bond between friends that had long been burned. Maybe the two of you had constant disagreements and fights and the rest of them were sick of it, using your lack of memories to drive you back together. That would certainly explain Azriel’s disappearance yesterday.
The conclusion ate away at you. It ate and ate until you were left feeling hollow. How could one person—a person you didn’t even know—be affecting you so much? There was a vast array of other problems you should be dwelling on.
“He doesn't like me very much, does he?”
You hadn’t meant to ask the question; the words had spilled out without permission.
Mor’s head jutted back in confusion, her mouth opening in the shape of a scoff. “Who?”
“Azriel,” you clarified, suddenly feeling so small in the large, confusing chair you sat in. “I know I lost my memory, but I still grasp context clues, Mor. You’re always hesitant to speak of him and he didn’t exactly seem overjoyed to be spending time with me yesterday. Listen—” you held your hand up, stopping Mor from giving you the excuses you could see welling up “—I don’t care, okay? I don’t care how bad it all sounds. I just want to know the truth. I can’t… I can’t even begin to figure this all out without the complete truth.”
The conflicted twist of Mor’s brow was glaringly apparent. She brought her fingers together at her waistline, fidgeting with them in what you assumed to be a nervous habit.
A lick of sympathy made you add, “Come on, it can’t be that bad, right? Whatever it is?”
A pause.
“I don’t know if I should be the one to explain this all to you,” Mor said, struggling over each word.
“It seems like no one else will.” You stood from your chair, ignoring the strange sense of loss from your departure. Did the rest of this room smell so much of cedar and night-kissed air? “Please, Mor. I’m so confused. I know more about myself, about you and I—you’ve done a wonderful job at that—but… I need to know everything. There’s a chance that I… a chance that I don’t get my memories back. I need to know who I am. Every part.”
You brought your hands up to grasp at Mor’s, pleading with her through your gaze. Your friend—she had become your friend—stared back at you with so much disparaged hope.
“You could still—”
“Please, Mor.”
You squeezed her fingers.
She closed her eyes and sighed.
“Y/n, Azriel—”
Something crashed, causing Mor to yank your hands back until you were secure behind her, her body acting as a shield between you and the door. There was another bang, a panicked voice, and then heavy footsteps. Your back pressed against the glass window, a chill sinking into your bones.
“—in her and Az’s reading room.”
The door slammed open not a moment later, Cassian bursting through in a frazzled state. He quickly scanned the room before landing on you and Mor. He locked eyes with the blonde, gave a quick nod, almost indistinguishable, and then turned his gaze to you.
“You want to meet our High Lord?”
~~
You could feel the tension the moment you stepped into the room.
Shadows battled for purchase around Azriel, his fists clenched at his sides as he stood opposite Rhysand. A desk separated them, filled with papers and books and notes. Neither made any indication that they had heard your group enter the office until Rhysand shot his eyes to the corner of his vision.
Azriel sighed, deep and menacing, as if Rhysand had insulted him gravely.
But he hadn’t said anything.
Rhysand’s jaw shifted to the side.
Cassian spoke, and it was then you realized his arm was pressing you back into the doorway. “Everything good in here?”
Mor stood ground behind you, keeping a firm hand on your back.
“Everything is fine,” Rhysand replied, steady voice matching his steady gaze on the male in front of him.
“You both sure? Because you told me to get her and I don’t know if having two Illyrians—”
“Everything is fine, Cassian,” Rhysand repeated. Some of the tension left him. With a sharp look in Azriel’s direction, he turned his attention toward you, craning his head to the side to catch you behind Cassian’s broad shoulders. “Hello, y/n.”
A nervous breath left you; whether it was from the hostility in the room or the greeting from the High Lord, you didn’t know. When Cassian nodded to Azriel and moved to the side, allowing you a full entrance, you glanced around quickly and caught the eyes of each person once, and then twice.
You licked your drying lips. “High Lord,” you responded, bending at the knee and lowering your gaze.
You had no recollection as to how long a bow was supposed to last. There was just some intrinsic part of you that knew the gesture was needed. Rhysand was a High Lord and you were… well, you weren’t sure what your title was—if you even had one. What your place was within this court.
No one had deigned to tell you.
When you rose after a seemingly acceptable amount of time, you were met with a still silence. All of the previous tension in the room melted away to create space for the stifling pause that permeated the air. Rhysand blinked at you, and then blinked again.
And then he had to cover his mouth because he began laughing.
A new emotion you could not remember experiencing invaded every inch of your body. It took you several seconds of enduring Rhysand’s muffled laugh before you recognized it as mortification. Pure, unadulterated mortification.
You clasped your hands together in front of your waist and took a harrowing breath in, trying to fight back the sudden burn in your nose.
Azriel, who had been watching you with careful grace since you stepped out from behind Cassian, turned his head with a sharp snap and growled at his High Lord. The leather around his fingers, placed there to keep his blazing siphons in place, groaned as his fists constricted once more.
Rhysand banished the argument before it began, attempting to wipe away the laugh with his fingers. “I’m—I’m sorry, y/n,” he chuckled, collecting himself further, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I know this is not funny for you, but… but I have never seen you do that a day in your life. And you have met several High Lords.”
You glanced around to gauge the reactions of the others in the room, finding Cassian with his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek to fight a smile and Mor staring up at the ceiling, in the midst of that same battle. Some of the embarrassment fled, but it was only replaced with confusion.
“I.. I’m sorry, I just assumed—because you’re a High Lord, I assumed your station required—”
Rhysand shook his head and gently corrected your rambling. “In a public space, perhaps. Maybe not in Velaris. And certainly not from someone I consider to be a sister.”
A sister.
Your family.
Right.
“I’m sure Helion would welcome the greeting,” Cassian huffed out from beside you, his words laced with an unrealized laugh. “Especially since the last time you greeted the High Lord of Day you told him to never again try baking in his entire immortal life. Not even a hello.”
Whatever discussion was occurring prior to your entrance was long forgotten. Even Azriel cracked a smile at that, and the room was filled with more than Rhysand’s laughs. The sounds, although new for you, had a smile tugging at your own lips. It was the first time since you woke up that no one was frowning at you, or fighting off tears, or storming away in bouts of shadows.
In fact, the feeling was so jarring you found yourself laughing as well—a tentative laugh, but one of the first that felt real.
It was a few more moments of joyous forgetting before silence took over again, but it was a lighter silence this time. Rhysand motioned to the chair facing his desk, and you took the seat, Cassian standing tall behind you, Mor positioning herself on the arm.
Azriel remained standing just a step away.
His face was void of a smile once again.
Rhysand cleared his throat. “It seems wrong to introduce myself now, but I must ask that you call me Rhys—or Rhysand, if I’ve really done something to piss you off. But not High Lord.” When you only nodded in agreement, he looked down at his desk, something lost in his eye. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around for you sooner. I’ve been researching—trying to figure this out.”
“I know. Thank you, Hi—Rhys,” you corrected. Cassian squeezed your shoulder from behind. A shadow followed the movement, slinking down from the Illyrian’s hand to loop around your neck.
“There isn’t much literature on witches, unfortunately. Not here. I’ve had Amren, another member of our court, looking through what she knows. She—well, she knows a great deal about many things that we don’t understand.” Rhysand sighed. Humor left him. “The consensus so far is that anything done by a witch can only be undone by that witch. Meaning—”
“Meaning there’s no hope unless we can find her,” you finished for him. “But—” your brows furrowed “—I’m the only one who saw her. Mor’s told me about that day. No one else saw the witch but me and now I…”
The burning in your nose was back, this time accompanied by the pounding in your head and the pressure in your chest. Both had become constants in your life. A sickening sort of panic twisted its way through you, leaving your breath unsteady even as Cassian ran a comforting hand over your shoulders and Mor offered silent encouragement at your side.
The only thing keeping your tears at bay were the shadows that had sought you out, their presence tickling your skin and serving as a distraction. That, and the azure glow continuously catching the corner of your eye as Azriel clenched and unclenched his fist.
“There are two avenues we can take,” Rhys offered with a kind, calm smile. “I am able to see into minds, oftentimes past what even you might be cognizant of. If you allow me to, I can enter your memories and take a look… maybe see the witch or something useful.”
You could make it worse.
You remembered bits and pieces from the day you were attacked, but some things were clearer than others. You had no idea who said what, but you knew someone had warned Rhys against this—someone had wrapped themselves around you and kept him far, far away.
“Would that hurt?” you asked.
A trembling exhale fell from the shadowsinger’s lips. You turned to look at him, but he kept his eyes forward.
“I would do my best to ensure that it didn’t,” Rhys comforted, his own eyes darting from Azriel and back to you. “At any sign of discomfort, I would stop. The goal would just be to see where your memories lay, if they were accessible at all. And to see if there was anything hidden about the witch.”
You nodded, trying to reconvene privately as you stared down at your fingers.
He would just take a look. Maybe it would somehow stop this incessant pounding in your head or maybe he would be able to see the memory of the witch. Maybe your memories were there, and you just didn’t have access to them yourself.
Maybe, maybe, maybe…
“If you aren’t comfortable with that—” Azriel’s low voice cut through your rampage of thoughts. “—we still have several people looking for information. As spymaster, I can assure you that all personnel available are on the hunt in Spring Court.”
You looked up, and Azriel met your eye for the first time since that disastrous lunch. Something felt like it fractured within you, a desolation so sharp it stung, but just as abruptly, that feeling washed away. It felt as if it seeped through some crack only to be reined in and slammed behind several locked doors.
You rubbed at your chest in an attempt to soothe the ache the feeling left. Azriel flickered his gaze down to watch your hand, clenched his jaw, and then looked back up. Softer this time—an apology you couldn’t comprehend.
“Thank you,” you whispered. “It means a lot that you are spending so much time on this. I—I can’t begin to thank you fully.”
Some of the conviction you had grown so used to seeing on Azriel’s face crumbled. He took a half-step towards you, a seemingly unconscious movement.
“Anything.” His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper. “Y/n, anything.”
It wasn't until Rhys spoke again that you were snapped out of the trance Azriel had locked you in. “I cannot guarantee I will see anything, if you choose to allow me in,” the High Lord explained. When you looked over at him, a sad smile lingered. “Which is why an alternative may be needed.”
“Of course,” you nodded, an encouragement for him to continue.
Rhys pushed his fingers together as they sat atop his desk. “We would take you to Day Court. Helion—the High Lord Cassian mentioned—is skilled in spell-cleaving. He may be able to undo some of what the witch did, if that’s possible. Or just give us a better read on the situation.”
Mor startled from beside you, “Rhys—”
“It wouldn’t be like last time,” Rhys placated, once again glancing toward the shadowsinger. “It wouldn’t.”
“Couldn’t Feyre—”
“She doesn’t have that much control over each of the court powers yet. We—we tried.”
“Feyre?” you asked, but the question was directed to no one and no one answered it.
“It’s a brilliant plan, isn’t it?” Azriel spit out, vitrole tainting each syllable. The heat rose in the room.
Cassian cut in this time, his voice a vibration at the back of your head. “Azriel, maybe—”
You couldn’t focus on anything they were saying as each line spoken left you with more questions, more pieces you couldn’t connect. Azriel was mad, Mor was concerned, Cassian was attempting to play the mediator. You had no idea what role Rhys filled, but you assumed it was the level-headed High Lord who only wanted the best for his court.
But Azriel was too livid and that emotion drowned out all the rest.
It wouldn’t be like last time.
What happened last time?
“I can’t go through that again,” Azriel stressed, his palm now flat on the wood of Rhys’s desk. “We can’t put her through that again.”
But it had sounded like the Night Court was friendly with Day; Cassian made it seem like you were close enough with Helion to make jabs at his cooking.
Put you through what?
“Maybe,” Cassian gritted out, his fingers kneading comfort into your arm. “This isn’t the best discussion to be having. Maybe we start with the first plan and if Rhys can’t find anything, we talk about it.”
Azriel leaned away from the desk, a sharp breath leaving his nose. The shadows that had swarmed around him calmed and flowed along the floor, stopping at your feet. A link between the two of you, it looked like—like a thread or a river or a bridge.
You expected Azriel to leave again, to storm off and avoid this entire situation. You wouldn’t exactly blame him; even with Cassian’s negotiation, there were still so many contingencies and unknowns. This wasn’t simple or clear cut, and it would take a lot of time—time perhaps not so willingly given.
But he didn’t.
Azriel bit back a snarl and pushed back into the shadows, but he didn’t leave.
You felt his eyes on you from the corner of the room, and something within you calmed while something else chafed.
Amidst a soft ringing in your ears, you caught Mor’s low grumble. “At least now we know why they were at each other’s throats when we walked in.”
Cassian scoffed out a disbelieving sound.
And you… you gave in to a few of the tears that had been burning behind your eyes, completely missing that the crack in your chest had returned. Completely missing that it was the cause—emotions that weren't entirely yours influencing the dampness on your cheeks.
If you're not reading this, then you should
As I let you in
Lord Isak Valtersen becomes a prince-consort.
Or the one where Even is a prince and they enter into an arranged marriage in ye olden days.
Chapter 5/13
In which there is training, news, tension, and a library. In that order. ;)
Vaude becomes a vulture with the Icarus wings
First clutch of the season 🏆
(Opp led me through the house and lost me, but I always hunt 'em down)
Doublin' down ⚡️🪽
Strikes from above ⚡🌩️
A king falling with grace 👑🪽
Et tu, Brutus? 👑🗡️
Then, it is done... 👑🗡️
Violently sobbing because
Vaude and Midas are reunited as lovers
Look at his smile while looking at my lil birb I CANNOT 😭💛💜
(self made Ascended Midas hcs/lore coming soon over at @fn-devilles)
POV: Just two pretty people staring at each other 💛
rise of midas cup is today! you only need eight points to get this free loading screen
elims are also worth two points each. the cup takes place in a solo match of the floor is lava, and you can play up to ten matches
POV: You're a bug that got caught
Hello! Please, have a seat and rest awhile 💛
