reader x sunday but the after affects of the penacony 2.2 story, like maybe reader being left in the dark about everything and they’re slightly upset with him :>
Bound by Dreams, Torn by Truth
Summary: After the events on Penacony, you confront Sunday about keeping his plans for Sweetdream Paradise hidden from you. Despite his vision of a pain-free society, you feel hurt by his secrecy and question his motives. In a vulnerable moment, Sunday reveals his desire to protect you from the harshness of reality, asking for your understanding as he attempts to balance his ideal with his love for you.
Warnings: Mild existential themes, Mentions of escapism, Slight manipulation(?)
The aftermath of the events on Penacony leaves you feeling unsettled, uncertain about the man you've trusted. Sunday's lofty vision of a painless utopia — one where people live in eternal dreams, safe from the harsh realities of life — now appears more complicated. The illusion of a paradise that he believes in clashes with your desire for a real, imperfect world. Although he speaks about shielding others from pain, his choice to withhold the truth about his intentions and the cost of Sweetdream Paradise leaves you feeling like an outsider, someone he couldn’t fully confide in.
One evening, you decide to confront him. You find him in his office, surrounded by ornate, dreamlike decor, the quiet hum of reverie hanging in the air. His golden eyes, like halos of their own, meet yours with the same calm conviction they always hold. But tonight, you want answers — real ones.
"Why didn’t you tell me everything?" you ask, your voice wavering slightly. "You talk about protecting people, but this... this dream isn’t real. It’s not what I thought we were building."
Sunday’s expression softens, and for a moment, a glimmer of regret crosses his features. He reaches for your hand but hesitates. "I wanted to keep you safe," he says, his voice as calm and steady as ever. "The truth is harsh, even painful. Sweetdream Paradise… it’s mercy, even if it comes at a cost."
"But don’t I deserve to know? To understand the real consequences?" you ask, feeling the weight of everything he chose to conceal.
He nods, a small sigh escaping his lips as he steps closer. "You’re right. I should have trusted you with more. But understand, this world, this dream — it’s my way of giving people peace, of sparing them the torment of life’s cruelties. Even if you don’t see it as I do, know that my choice was out of love. I wanted to protect you from the darkness that reality brings."
His hand finally reaches yours, a bittersweet touch that’s both comforting and conflicting. "Stay with me," he whispers, a hint of vulnerability slipping through his composed demeanor. "If you can, believe in me just a little longer."
Though the ache of his secrecy still lingers, you sense the sincerity in his words. He may never see the world as you do, but tonight, you realize that perhaps love isn’t always about sharing the same dreams — it’s sometimes about walking together, even through the differences.
Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website
Chapter 16: One round monotonous of change
Tim knew before the week was out that he was right not to clue the new Archives crew into everything. Or anything, for that matter.
He’d learned very quickly not to attempt to help Jon, at least not when the others were around. Actually, dealing with Jon was a delicate balance of being helpful without being too helpful, keeping things running without making it obvious that he was anticipating orders at best and doing what he’d always done regardless of said orders at worst. The man was obviously insecure, completely unprepared for his position, and despite what he’d said the first day about Elias telling him he’d be fine with Tim there, he didn’t seem particularly keen to take advice or suggestions. Tim gave him the simplistic, obvious notes Gertrude had left him, smiled and joked his way around the edges of the workday, and metaphorically washed his hands of the situation.
Sasha, now, Sasha was interesting. She was definitely more aware of what archiving entailed than Jon was, and a bit of conversation had revealed she’d been in academia longer than he had, which made Tim wonder how come Elias hadn’t appointed her the temporary archivist instead. She was, however, largely focused on the computer work. She’d come in the third day with a whole suite of books on MS-DOS and Windows 95 that she’d scrounged somewhere—and sworn a blue streak when she realized the computer’s operating system was Windows 3.11—and, like Jon, stubbornly refused assistance. Tim made a token offer of help, accepted her refusal with seeming grace, and left her to it.
Martin was actually the only one willing to accept Tim’s help, although he always waited until they were alone to ask for it. Tim assumed he was embarrassed that he needed help—he’d been with the Institute ten years—but honestly, it was kind of a relief to be able to help someone. Still…there was something off about him. Tim couldn’t quite put his finger on what, just that he didn’t seem like an almost forty-year-old academic with a master’s degree in parapsychology. Among other things, he seemed really not to be at home with the sorts of research they did, even if it wasn’t as…traditional as the kind most academia did. He’d also been very vague on what he’d done his master’s thesis on. Tim chose not to press him and just made sure the work, cursory though it may have been, was getting done.
Coming in to do his…independent research was harder than he’d thought initially, too. Jon was so paranoid about being seen not doing his job that he came in before eight and left well after five, and Tim hadn’t yet figured out his schedule well enough that he could get in early and get out before he was noticed, or for that matter be sure that if he came in after hours he wouldn’t get caught. He was doing what he could at home with Gerry, but for the first time, he fully appreciated what Gertrude had meant when she’d said she needed the Archives to progress her research. There were statements there that would help, he knew it, and he needed the free time to really explore the shelves and find the ones he needed.
Friday seemed like his best bet; he lingered over the (admittedly totally bullshit) statement he was researching, told Martin and Sasha not to worry about him, and kept an eye on the Archivist’s door. Jon came out eventually, looking tired, then froze when he saw Tim. He cleared his throat and straightened. Tim almost felt bad. Almost. “Tim. What are you still doing here?”
“Just finishing up some notes on the Cook case,” Tim lied cheerfully. Everything he needed had come in well ahead of time and was organized. “Monday being the spring bank holiday and all, I didn’t want to let it linger. You go ahead, I’ll close up shop when I’m done.”
“No need. I’m going to do one last sweep to make sure everything is put away properly while you get that finished.” Jon turned and walked away before Tim could come up with an appropriate response.
He supposed he could hastily gather his things, pretend to leave, and lock himself in a closet until Jon left, but a glance out of the corner of his eye told him that would be for nothing. Jon was extremely thorough in checking to make sure things were ready to leave. Oh, well, maybe he could come in over the weekend—the extra day would afford him a bit of protection. He’d still have to be careful, though. They weren’t doing enough that Jon might want to come in on days the Institute was nominally closed, but you never knew.
Tim was just packing up his laptop when Jon returned, looking faintly annoyed. “That back corner looks dreadful, there were statements every which way. If Martin can’t be bothered to put things back properly, I swear—”
“Martin hasn’t been back there all week, boss. Not since I gave you guys the tour, anyway. It was probably the ghost.” Tim slung his bag over his shoulder and felt for his keys.
“The ghost,” Jon said flatly.
Tim shrugged. “I used to come in some mornings—especially Mondays—and find stuff moved around. Thought it was Gertrude for a while because she worked odd hours sometimes, but it happened while she was out of town, too. ‘S why I make sure everything is cleared off my desk before I leave.”
“And you think it’s a ghost,” Jon said in the same flat, unemotional voice as before.
Actually, no, he didn’t. Tim was fairly certain it was Elias, but there was also a possibility that it was someone else—Gerry hadn’t been the only person who helped Gertrude out from time to time, there was that fussy old man he’d spotted a time or two when he got back sooner than previously anticipated, and it was entirely possible that one of them had a key. Either way, it was why the notebook Tim and Gertrude had used for the computer was in code and why he usually made a careful sweep first thing upon arriving and last thing upon leaving. Whoever or whatever was getting in here, they didn’t need to know anything Gertrude wasn’t ready to share.
And if it wasn’t somebody on their side, at least nominally, it wasn’t likely to be a ghost.
“Well,” he said instead, giving Jon a teasing grin, “the cleaning staff doesn’t come down here, so if it’s not a ghost, it’s an extremely weird and specific burglar.”
Jon’s lips flattened briefly. “I suppose it’s a good thing you’re making sure everything is cleaned up, then, if you’re worried about that,” he muttered under his breath. Aloud, he said, “Come on, then. Best to walk out before Rosie locks the front door.”
“We can go out the side door,” Tim pointed out.
“I don’t have the key to lock or unlock it from the outside.”
Since Tim knew that key had been on the bunch he gave Elias, he bit his tongue and filed that away for further use. Either Jon was lying in an attempt to catch Tim out on something, or Elias had held it back for unspecified purposes. Maybe he’d just got tired of not knowing when Tim and Gertrude were in the Archives.
They headed up the stairs together. Rosie was, in fact, just getting ready to lock the front door, but she held it for them and wished them a good weekend before shutting it behind them. Tim had taken the Tube rather than drive in because Gerry had an appointment in Penzance and needed the car, so they ended up walking together to Sloane Square before parting. Tim watched Jon head towards the opposite platform—thankfully he lived in the other direction—then turned. He was just considering backtracking and heading back to the Institute now when his gaze fell on a figure seated on one of the far benches.
Martin.
Tim’s intentions to keep his relations with his new (temporary) colleagues superficial, at least until Gertrude came back and decided if she was keeping them, were wavering in the face of Martin Blackwood. Partly—mostly—it was the fact that he kept asking for Tim’s help, but more importantly, he had at least attracted the attention of the Lonely. Tim wasn’t as good as Gerry was at spotting marks on people, not yet anyway, unless it was the Eye or the Stranger, but Martin practically wore it on his sleeve, or at least in his eyes. It may not have fully marked him yet, but he’d definitely drawn its interest. Tim had two—well, three, really—good reasons to do something about that. The first was, quite simply, that letting any of the Fourteen get hold of a person unwillingly was kind of not okay; it had been done to him, to Gerry, and in a way to Gertrude, and while he couldn’t save anyone at the Institute from the Eye, he could at least do something about any of the others, or at the very least try. The second, more serious one was that if the Lonely did get hold of Martin, it might use him to get into the Archives, and Tim wasn’t having any of that either. Attacks weren’t uncommon, and Gertrude had always been ruthless in keeping them out—one of the first things she’d taught Tim, once she clued him in, was how to ward off the Stranger so they could control whether or not it noticed him—and would never allow it to take root. If Martin succumbed to it, or it got hold of him too deeply, Tim didn’t doubt for a minute that Gertrude would throw out the baby, the bathwater, and burn the whole damn house down for good measure to be sure the Lonely didn’t have a way in. At some point it would be a kindness, but right now it would just be cruel.
The third was, quite simply, that Tim didn’t want to end up like that himself. He was only four or five years younger than Martin, and he had anchors, but…well. He remembered something Gerry had said once when talking about a woman he’d encountered in Italy: Sometimes the loneliest place in the world is in the middle of a thousand people knowing not one of them gives a damn whether you live or die.
Tim had stopped him in the middle of the palazzo and kissed him hard, in front of God and everybody, and nobody had blinked an eye, but they’d both understood what it meant. That wouldn’t work with Martin, but he could try something.
“Hey, Marto.”
Martin, who had been concentrating on a knitting project, jumped and dropped one of his needles, which clattered to the platform floor. “Oh! Tim, I d—I didn’t see you there. Did I forget something?”
“No, I just saw you when I got here and thought I’d come sit with you.” Tim bent to retrieve the fallen needle, then sat down next to Martin with a sigh. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“No! N-no, I just…” Martin’s eyes darted around the platform. “I didn’t know you took the Tube. I’ve, um, I’ve never seen you. I thought you drove?”
“Have been, this week anyway. It rained on Monday and I hate dealing with the walk from here in the rain if I can help it. But my partner needed the car today.” Tim flashed Martin a grin. “Tube doesn’t run outside London.”
“Oh.” Martin looked a little flustered. “It’s—I just, I don’t remember seeing you on the line before. You’ve, you’ve been with the Institute two years, right?”
“Twenty months, but who’s counting? And I just moved a couple months ago.” Tim hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Used to live out in Hounslow, so the other direction. Which line are you waiting on, the Circle or the District?”
Martin shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed. “Um, doesn’t matter, actually. I live on the Northern line.”
“You’re joking!” Tim studied Martin’s face. “You’re serious. Which end?”
“Stockwell.”
“No kidding. I’m Morden.” Tim hesitated, then made an offer he normally wouldn’t have worried about. Maybe a little because he suspected Martin would rather chew his own leg off than actually accept it, so it wouldn’t matter, but mostly because a sincere offer would go a long way towards combating the Lonely. “Remind me to give you my number, and if I’m driving in, I can swing by and give you a ride.”
“Oh! Oh, that’s—that’s very kind of you. Thank you.” Martin’s face turned pink.
The next scheduled train pulled into the platform, and Tim and Martin managed to find seats, rare enough for rush hour on the London Underground. As they settled in, Tim asked, “So what are you making there?”
“Just socks. I, um, there was a whole load of knitting wool that went up for sale cheap a couple weeks back, and I managed to get hold of it. I’ve been sort of going through it and trying plan stuff out, but there was this sock yarn, so…” Martin shrugged a little. He looked uncomfortable.
“I’m always impressed by people who can knit. I never could get the hang of it…how long have you been knitting?”
Martin, unexpectedly, blushed again. “Since I was little…seven or eight, maybe? Um, my mum, she was—she was sick a lot, so I spent a lot of time in waiting rooms, you know, and, well, it was hard to carry enough books to keep me occupied and she really didn’t like me fidgeting, so…” He flapped the half-finished sock helplessly.
Tim winced inwardly in sympathy, but kept the smile in place. A picture was forming in his mind of Martin’s childhood, and it wasn’t one that made him feel any better about the incursion of the Lonely. Best not to let that show, though. “So, what, thirty years? You must have quite a stash.”
The blush got deeper, and Martin looked surprisingly uncomfortable. The approach of the stop where they would have to switch trains meant talking went on hold—especially when the Northern pulled in just as they were getting off and they had to sprint to catch it—and while Tim had a pretty strong constitution from all the walking he’d done recently, he was not a sprinter, so it took him almost as long to catch his breath once they dropped into their seats as it did Martin. Once they were back on an even keel, though, he went back to encouraging Martin to open up a bit. “You know I’m not making fun of you about the knitting, yeah? I really want to know. I mean, it’s got to be worthwhile if you’ve been doing it for thirty years.”
Martin fidgeted slightly, worrying at his lower lip and shooting nervous glances at Tim. He’d either be a lousy poker player or a really, really good one, if this was a bluff. Tim let his own smile slip slightly and a bit of concern pop into his eyes.
That was apparently all it took. “Tim, I—l-look, look, if I…just, don’t tell Jon. Please? O-or Elias, but…I’m more worried about Jon right now.”
Okay, now Tim was actually worried. He licked his lips, but nodded. “I promise,” he said. Unconsciously, he spun the black ring around his finger to loosen it. He comforted himself with the knowledge that he never willingly shared things with Elias anyway, and that he hadn’t got to the level of trusting Jon enough to gossip to him yet…and Martin hadn’t forbidden him to tell anyone whatever this was, so he could still hash it out with Gerry later.
Martin hesitated a moment longer, gaze darting around the car. Tim guessed he was checking to make sure Jon—or possibly anyone else familiar from the Institute—wasn’t within earshot. Just before Tim prompted him, he blurted out, “I’m only twenty-six.”
Tim blinked, and mentally counted back, and then counted again. “You had your master’s degree at sixteen?”
“N-no. No, I don’t—” Martin swallowed hard. “I d-don’t have a master’s. I don’t even have a degree. I, my mum, she—I told you she was sick? Well, she, um, she got really bad about ten years back and—and I had to drop out of school and get a job. Nobody was hiring, so I—you know, I just, I started making stuff up. Anything to get my foot in the door. I lied about having a master’s degree in parapsychology and it got me in the door and…I-I mean, it didn’t, it didn’t matter so much up in the library, but now I’m in the Archives and it’s a big deal and J-Jon thinks I have all these credentials and…I-I’m toast. I’m going to get fired. I’m definitely going to get fired.”
“You’re not going to get fired,” Tim assured him. In the first place, he wasn’t sure Jon actually had the authority to fire—or hire, for that matter—anyone to begin with, and even if he did…well, he still wasn’t entirely sure Martin or Sasha were bound too the Archives if Gertrude hadn’t appointed them or affirmed their appointment, but it would at least be a comfort. “An appointment to the Archives is an appointment for life, after all. Didn’t Elias tell you that? Or Jon?”
“No?” Martin looked confused, but he also looked a bit less stressed. “Jon’s barely said two words to me, honestly, and all Elias said when he sent me down to the Archives was that someone had finally decided to give me an opportunity to move on. I thought he meant Jon, but Jon seemed like he had no idea I’d been hired, so…”
Tim twisted the ring again—it was really stuck tonight, he’d been doing a lot of writing and his hand must’ve swollen—but held his tongue. Martin didn’t need to know about Elias’s unnecessarily cruel policy. All he said was, “Well, it’s true. You’re here forever—you, me, Sasha, even Jon. No matter how mad he gets at you, he’s not going to be able to fire you.” He nudged Martin lightly. “Besides, you’re a good asset to the Archives.”
Martin blushed again. “You’re just saying that.”
“Hey, I’m the one who knew Gertrude Robinson, remember? She’d have loved to have you on the team if she’d put up an internal posting.” And you’ll probably be the only one who sticks around when she gets back, he added to himself. At least if she came back in the next few weeks. Jon was ill-suited to the Archives, at least so far, and Sasha was almost too curious for her own damned good. More to the point, Martin was the only one willing to learn. No way would Gertrude pass that up.
Martin smiled, then glanced up at the window as the train slowed. “Um, this is my stop. See you Monday, Tim.”
“Tuesday,” Tim reminded him. “Monday’s the spring bank holiday.”
“Oh! Oh, right, I forgot. Yeah, see you Tuesday.”
“See you, Martin.” Tim flashed Martin a smile and a wave as he got off the train. Martin waved back just before the doors closed.
Alone again, Tim relaxed against the seat and turned his thoughts towards the weekend. He would definitely need to go in sometime this weekend and have a look around. Maybe he’d take Gerry with him and the two of them could pull a few relevant statements. A second pair of eyes would be useful in making sure he didn’t put anything out of order and raise Jon’s suspicions…or worse, his ire.
Meanwhile, though, he thought he’d take tonight to relax. Maybe see if Gerry was up for a walk, and they could take their new shaggy overlord up to one of the parks and let him chase sticks for a bit. There would be time enough for research later.
After all…it wasn’t like it was the end of the world. Yet.
Aged-Up!Spiderverse-Miles Morales x reader (lmao thats a long one)
tw // stalking, yandere, infatuation, breaking and entering, mentions of kidnapping, slight manipulation, mentions of stealing by different character
he’ll be 16/17 whenever i write for him cuz writing about 13 year old miles morales makes me uncomfortable lol so yeah, but anyway hope you enjoy
· hes kinda mild for a yandere compared to like peter or …peter ig lmao
· hes already an awkward cupcake so hes like 3000x more awkward with you
· you probably don’t even know him other than his name, hes like in one of your classes and somehow you got his attention
· you might have laughed at one of his jokes or been his partner for a small project
· small enough that you have a vague idea of who he is, but enough for him to fall in love with you
· he talks about you all. the. time
· ganke gets every detail lmao
· “(y/n), smelled so good today, they probably bought a new shampoo”
· “did you see (y/n)? their outfit is so cute, they look so cute!”
· “ganke, did you see (y/n)? i think they’re sick, should I ask them when they come back?”
· ganke’s probably exhausted enough where he doesn’t even notice the questionable things miles says abt you
· “i should try to match (y/n)’s next outfit, maybe i can swing by and see if they have any outfits prepared in their room.”
· in my mind, i see peter as a perv/steal-your-clothes-without-your-permission-and-come-into-your-room-and-sleep-on-your-bed kind of yandere
· and miles wouldn’t be like that imo, hes way too shy and kind to do something like that lmao
· he’ll just like…you know…stalk you from afar.
· he might watch as you though your bedroom window as you do homework but never while your changing or anything inappropriate
· he also might come into your house once in awhile when no ones home so he can check what shampoo or what perfume you use so he can feel closer to you
· he’d never kidnap you or anything especially since he lives in a dorm and basically at home too
· miles would never try to win you or talk to you unless he’s feeling really brave
· especially after the whole incident with gwen…he’s really cautious about asking people out now…lol
· if you ever were to start dating someone, he’ll probably do anything he can to find out any awful thing about the person ur dating, so he could hate them
· he’ll start to talk to you more and make sure you think of him as a friend, so he can try to convince you that the person ur dating is an awful person
· but in the end, miles wouldn’t make the first move lmao
· hes fine with just being friends and being there for you
· all of his fantasies would involve you tho, he could never move on from u
· so he might change as he grows older :)
-
honestly towards the end there, i completely lost myself and i had no idea what i was writing skdjsjdks so please like and reblog :0
also im thinking of writing for nagito next because im in simp-for-nagito mode
Warnings: Slightly NSFW, it’s not detailed and its very brief but it is there, so be warned. Slight manipulation as well.
song used: Sweet Melody by Little Mix
@narutorarepairjune
Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-roo-doo-doo, doo-roo-doo-roo
Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-roo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
In a whole other life, there was this boy that I knew
He made me feel like a woman, we were young and silly fools
Anyway, he was in a band, wrote love songs about me
I wasn't crazy 'bout the words, but the melodies were sweet
Went something like
Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-roo-doo-doo, doo-roo-doo-roo
Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-roo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Kiba was never one for long term relationships, he had dreams and goals he wanted to achieve and he would achieve them, no matter the cost. That's just how the man was, he wanted to skiing even if he was going to have to live off ramen for the next three months? Done. He wanted to achieve the look he has been wanting? He waited until his dad officially left him and his family, buying band tees that showed off his impeccable muscles and ripped, black skinny jeans that was a little too hard to walk in, got a few tattoos and piercings to top it all off. He wanted to get in a certain blonde, punk girl's pants? Easy as taking candy from a baby.
Kiba has wanted to become a musician, a career his father had repeatedly told him was a silly child's dream. That he wouldn't make it in the music industry because of his cocky attitude and horrible communication skills. So to prove to himself and his father that he could do this, he took the girl. He would write songs about how her grey blue eyes, the way her tattoos would smoothly curve along her waist, the way her hair would cover just one eye, leaving a small mystery about the blonde beauty for him to figure out. He would write about how adored her personality and the way she would giggle at his stupid jokes.
Every time we go dancing, I see his straying eyes
Gave him too many chances, push my gears too many times
And when he start acting dumb, then I'll be on my way to leave
But I stopped in the tracks, when I heard this melody
And it went like
Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-roo-doo-doo, doo-roo-doo-roo
Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-roo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Ino eyed the man who weaseled his way in her life, the way he would dance with other women at the club and then act like it was just a little friendly chat with an old friend, acting like he didn't know why this bothered her. An old friend? Just a friendly chat? Did he take her for some stupid barbie doll? She saw the way his pelvis grinded against her, obvious, fake ass. The way he would lean down to ghost his breath on her neck and say something filthy in her ear to cause the bitch to giggle. But she was falling for him. There was no stopping it now, she wanted him and he made her believe he wanted her too.
He used to sing me sweet melodies
He played me, made me believe it was real love
Sing me sweet melodies
But the day he did me wrong
The song couldn't go on and on
He used to sing me sweet melodies
He played me, made me believe it was real love
Sing me sweet melodies
But the day he did me wrong
The song couldn't go on and on and on
He would lie, he would cheat over syncopated beats
I was just his tiny dancer, he had control of my feet
Yes, when he came along, that's when I lost the groove
There was no song in the world to sing along or make me move
Sounded something like
Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-roo-doo-doo, doo-roo-doo-roo (it was, oh)
Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-roo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
God she wanted to end this game, to get away from the overly confident alpha dog, but god did he have a way with words. "Come on pretty girl, you know I love you." "Sweet pea, she means nothing to me, she could never make me feel the way you do." She even caught him fucking some pink haired crybaby, his hand tangled in her terribly dyed pink hair, yanking on it till the tears slid down her flushed face. "But baby, it was a mistake! I promise, I'll never do something like that again! Please, baby, give me another chance. You know there is never anyone that could really make me feel the way you do." But it was always the same shit, sneaking out to fuck some new girl, making excuses that he had late night band practice. But she could never really believe him, not when she didn't get the chance to prove he was cheating on her.
He used to sing me sweet melodies (oh)
He played me, made me believe it was real love
Sing me sweet melodies
But the day he did me wrong (yeah, yeah)
The song couldn't go on and on and on (couldn't go on, no)
He used to sing me sweet melodies (sing sweet melodies)
He played me, made me believe it was real love
Sing me sweet melodies
But the day he did me wrong (me wrong)
The song couldn't go on and on and on
Kiba enjoyed his life, he had a girl to write about. A sweet little melody, his song, his ticket to the game he so desperately wanted to prove he could gain. So what if he fucked around a little bit? What did it matter to him when he knew Ino would never leave him, not when he could make her shake and scream his name like that?
Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-roo-doo-doo, doo-roo-doo-roo (ay, ay, ohh)
Doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-roo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo (oh whoa)
On and on
So Kiba kept up his little game.
On and on
Until one day, Ino never came home and all her belongings were absent from the shared room of their one bedroom apartment.
He used to sing me sweet melodies
He played me, made me believe it was real love
Sing me sweet melodies
But the day he did me wrong (me wrong)
The song couldn't go on and on and on
(On and on, and on, yeah)
Ino left that dog for good, no longer able to take just being words for lyrics he never meant.
He used to sing me sweet melodies (melodies, yeah)
He played me, made me believe it was real love
Sing me sweet melodies
But the day he did me wrong
The song couldn't go on and on and on
What was this that Kiba was feeling? His heart… ached. It felt like he was missing something and he couldn't figure out what the hell it was. He had everything! His band was starting to get more recognition, he had a plethora of women to fool around with. So why was he wanting the only woman he no longer had? It was then that Kiba realized he lost, he lost the only person who showed him any kind of actual support.
Sing me sweet melodies (sing me sweet
melodies, yeah)
He played me, made me believe it was real love
Sing me sweet melodies
But the day he did me wrong (me wrong)
The song couldn't go on and on and on, no
Ino smiled as she stepped off the bus in her home town of Konoha. She was starting over and would find someone who actually treated her like a Sweet Melody.
Here is an ANIMATIC I just finished and made that took me almost two months. Will admit, I love this just because I added more frames in between each one...
(Sort of a what if, or an actual scene. Up to you. I wrote it months ago, but tweaked it a bit just now. Posted because of this.)
Meg starts to doubt Aaravos. She’s admittedly still afraid of him and after what he did to Viren she has good reason to. So after learning the full story, she confronts him. They argue and she points these things out. He contradicts every one of them:
“You got Viren arrested.”
“Correction, he got himself arrested.”
“How?”
“If I recall, he was already in trouble when he finally accepted my help. He came to me as a last resort of desperation.”
“You helped him kill three guards!”
“I cast Primal magic spells that he utilized to his advantage.”
“You provided the ammo.”
“He aimed and then fired.”
“You told him to motivate the other kingdoms with fear.”
“Fear does not mean death.”
“But war?”
“War is imminent. The assassins were only step one of the elves and Dragon Queen’s revenge. Did he tell you of the Sunfire elves at the boarder? The dragons flying overhead the outer villages?”
“What? No...I...didn’t know about that.”
“Hm...I’m not surprised.” He frowned, looking a bit disappointed about something. “I suppose he thought you were safer not knowing about this.”
She looked away.
“Am I wrong?” He raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t think it’s got anything to do with him caring about my safety...it isn’t in my area of work, so why would I be told? I’m not in the council and I’m not near important enough to hear all the goings on of the military. All my information came from Gren and sometimes Corvus...but I haven’t seen him in weeks...”
She didn’t see the frown crease his lips or the slight narrowing of his eyes as he noticed what appeared to be an almost longing expression on her face.
“...Xadia is prepared for war. If the kingdoms don’t wake up and see the signs, you won’t stand a chance.”
She looked back at him to see the seriousness on his face.
“...so you wanted this. But not for revenge purposes.”
“Have I ever given the impression I have plans of revenge?”
“No, but I just thought...” Maybe she was the guilty party. He hadn’t said anything about hating elves or killing anyone for personal reasons. He hadn’t said anything about a revenge plot. All he said was that he didn’t know where he was. Not how he got there or why, or what he thought of the other elves and the dragons.
Aaravos’ voice interrupted her thoughts.
“War is coming. There is nothing we can do about this but let it play out.”
“So we just wait then? Wait for the conflict to end?”
“No. I didn’t say I was removing myself from the board. But you are free to walk away at any time.”
“Why?” She looked at him in surprise.
“You said it yourself. You are not important to military operations. This is not your fight.”
“It is if it involves my kingdom.” She frowned, straightening up to her full height (which wasn’t saying much next to Aaravos...who still towered over her) “Katolis is my home, and I swore my loyalty to the kingdom and the crown.”
He didn’t respond right away. There was an unreadable expression on his face, an unfamiliar look in his eyes. Then slowly his lips curled upward in a smirk, but there was something different about it from usual.
“You say that now...but how long will it last?”
-end?-
(I wasn’t sure how to finish this one...but I think I like the ominous, cryptic final words from Aaravos. lol
That...is how it would go if Meg confronted Aaravos on what he and Viren did. He did say he’s persuasive...and as you can see, he was.)
