#And then we see what happens if you don't think about your own wants and needs and identity

[hitomisuzuya]

Hey hey Suzuuuu

I hope you can see this request..

It’s a nsfw

I would like to request Wanderer x shy fem reader at Sumeru Akademiya, a new student came in and its reader who is shy to introduce herself. And the teacher told the new student to sit next to Wanderer and Wanderer finds it annoying when he preferred to be alone.

At some time, Wanderer becomes like a bully when he likes to tease and make fun of fem reader only to see her reactions, and it makes him like want to corrupt her innocence.

wanderer (scaramouche) x fem!reader. smut corruption. fingering. bullying. minor degradation.

i want to sincerely thank everyone for letting me take my time and go through requests at my own pace 😭🥺 i feel bad, though.

wanderer only went to class that day because nahida insisted on walking him there. if she hadn't, he would gone right out into the forest to hide and maybe nap in a tree for awhile. a more valuable use of his time, in his opinion, but nahida insisted that the akademiya would be good for him.

he could practically taste your innocence the moment you walked through the lecture hall door. it was pure in a way he hadn't considered still existed. through his sheer annoyance at you being seated next to him (his table was the only empty seat. he could totally see why), he shot you a glare that sent an unexpected shiver up your spine.

"don't think we are going to be friends because you are sitting next to me," he wanted to level with you right here and now. "99% of the time, i won't even be here."

"oh, that's fine," you replied, organizing your books and tucking some hair behind your ear. "i'm not here to make friends. i am here to learn," you pursed your lips, and offered him a soft smile, "my family also has high expectations of me."

"i didn't ask," wanderer replied, crossing his arms and finding a spot to fixate on and stare at for the rest of the class. chances are he knew more things politically than the professor. the asshole who wrote that essay about what he thought happened on tatarasuna sure thought he knew everything.

still though, as much as he hates it, he kept looking at you from the corner of his eye. it was easy for him to tell what kind of girl you are in these moments. you certainly had no issue sitting there, looking pretty while you listened with such foolish intent. you even took notes on the smallest, most useless things.

did you think this knowledge may come in use later?

judging from your explanation earlier, wanderer knew exactly what to capitalize on and take advantage of.

he didn't expect you to have the most interesting reactions when he bullied you.

"it must be so hard for you," wanderer cooed condescendingly, watching you survey the mess he made by knocking all your books out of your hands. "always being a goody goody. doing your homework on time, never missing class," sighing, he kicked one of notebooks out of the way as you reached down to pick it up. "you have be getting crushed under the weight."

"i..i am just so clumsy," you stumbled over your words a little, clearly flustered. wanderer licked his lips. you are just so interesting. he'd just been so mean to you. anyone should've snapped or fought back. but not you. you had the shyest flush on your cheeks. were you enjoying this?

as for you, you are. the more interactions you have with wanderer bullying you, with his enchanting electric eyes and condescending purr to his voice, the wetter you got. it was embarrassing to you. a fact that you had a hard time coming to terms with. at first.

he even used a small gust of anemo to knock your water bottle out of your hand one day, tossing water all over your shirt (it was to see your nipples harden in your bra from cold the water was), but you only looked at him with further adoration.

but his bullying just felt so good. you couldn't possibly tell him that you often fingered yourself until you were a wet, twitching mess at night after classes.

in wanderer's still very twisted mind, corrupting you would be helping you. he didn't even know when he started coming to class everyday, but you were starting to look like you weren't sleeping well. your hands shook while you took tests.

the moment you felt wanderer's hand dip into your panties for the first time, parting your folds and grazing your clit, your hips immediately jerked up to grind on his fingers. fingers that you always thought are so ungodly beautiful it should be considered a crime.

a moan you didn't even mean to let out sounded from you. the more those beautiful fingers stroked your pussy, the more it throbbed and clenched. your eyes widened in an aroused desperation, your hole clenching around the tips of his fingers as he prodded them teasingly at your entrance.

"you poor thing," wanderer cooed, "this is probably the best you have felt ever," he slowly wagged the pads of his fingers on your clit, tearing mewls from you as he just as teasingly pinched your clit. "you are so fucking wet, your cunt will suck my fingers in."

your clit throbbed, feeling shamelessly compelled to rub your soaking pussy on his fingers. "i thought you had to get to class?" he continued. your eyes widened as he started to take his hand out of your panties. "do you know how foolish it is to try and please everyone all the time?"

your hand shot out to grasp his wrist. "no, please. i don't want to go anywhere. i want to stay right here with you," you urged his hand between your legs again. "please," your eyes watered in desperation.

wanderer chuckled. did you have an idea how much of a turn on you are in general? you, the good and innocent girl was begging to skip class and stay with him with your legs spread on his bed. fuck, you deserve to have your pretty pussy stuffed full with his fingers. "who knew you are really such a slut?"

you are breaking so well under the weight of his corruption. you couldn't think about anything other than the need to feel his fingers fucking into you. thoughts you'd never had before about anyone. until wanderer.

"good girl," he tuggedyour panties off, his cock straining from watching the soaked material peel off your pussy. "moan for me while i break you. it's what you want the most, no?" he pushed two fingers inside of you, stretching you apart and hooking them to the knuckle into your sweet spot.

you nodded, jolts of pleasure crackling through you. your eyes nearly rolled closed in pleasure as he started pumping his fingers. they would've had he not put a hand on your jaw. "no, no, kitten. i wanna see those pretty eyes of yours while i make you cum," he gently squeezed your jaw to remind you of your place.

it is erotic to him how some of your moans even had a tinge of shock in them. you are coming apart so fast, your body only relaxing and submitting to him. he was devouring you, and nothing has ever felt better in your whole life.

the pumps of his fingers grew more aggressive with your consistent moans. he stretched your pussy apart so perfectly, sussing out every sensitive spot between your walls effortlessly. "a third finger, please," you moan, rocking your hips up extra to convey your plea.

wanderer was more than happy to oblige you. he abruptly added a third finger, bullying it against your sweet spot. a near scream of pleasure tore from your throat. "are you feeling good, slut?" his cock pulsed as your walls snapped tighter around his fingers. you obviously enjoy being degraded. "you'll tend to my cock next, yes?"

you struggled to even nod, your cheeks flushed with adoration. "yes! i want to more than anything!" you cried out, stroking his wrist in appreciation as your orgasm curled tighter, your juices frothing and gathering on the insides of your thighs.

"oh? more than going to class or pleasing your family?" wanderer couldn't wait for your inevitable response. a response that would no doubt make him want to impale you on his cock even more. he couldn't break you too fast.

could he?

"yes, yes please! so much more than..than.." your words fell away, the knot of your orgasm building and tightening to an almost overwhelming degree. "anything!" you barely managed to cry out, twitching and writhing as you scrambled to chase the wonderful high unlike any other that he was providing.

wanderer couldn't help but laugh shakily, slowly stroking his cock. you look more beautiful breaking than he imagined. he knew he didn't have to keep his hand on your chin anymore. you couldn't and wouldn't dream of taking your eyes off. not when he'd demanded you to keep looking at him while you cum.

[srslylini]

I'm so sorry to tell you this OP, a micro expression that I need to pause the show for to see does not equal good writing. A show, and media in general, has to take our hand and guide us through it, I hate this stupid fucking sentence "you just want the show to take your hand" YES I DO, YES MEDIA NEEDS TO.

I don't want it to put everything infront of me and just carry me through it, I want it to fucking MAKE SENSE and GUIDE ME AS IT SHOULD. I do not want to sit here and decipher some weird fucking ass background to see "oh look the curtain split in the background indicates how this character is actually split in their decision🥺". That is NOT how this is meant to work. It is a nice addition but should not take away from actual character development.

Saying people rightfully calling this madness out "have an inability to read in between the lines" when what you are doing is adding your own context the show never gave or just straight up ignoring how "character" in media works

Them fucking in a cell was quite disturbing and disgusting. I'm a lesbian. I should be glad we got a lesbian scene. Yes, it has weird as fuck implications. Why are you talking as if your interpretation is the only one that can be right and now everyone needs to yield to it? Huh. Implications can and will happen unwillingly and willingly, by the way.

Caitlyn has war crimed her way through the Undercity, ruthlessly threw people into prison for no reason (they did actually show that, woah sick right), was ready to SHOOT someone with a child on their person that either would have hit the child or would have left the child with serious trauma, HIT VI INTO HER STOMACH AFTER SAID FACT, TOLD A PERSON WHILE SHE DIDNT YET WANT TO, SHE WOULD THROW HIM INTO THE DEEPEST DARKEST DUNGEONS, called people of the undercity animals, etc.

and you say 🥺actions mean more guys uwu🥺 shut up, genuinely.

Oh plus glorified suicide is never justifiable, wtaf. Do NOT dare to even say "but she lived". They SHOWED HER, a suicidal character, WILLINGLY JUMP WHILE PLAYING THE MUSIC SHE PREVIOUSLY TRIED TO KILL HERSELF WITH. They also made the other 2 characters that attempted sacrifice themselves. I watched this shit. I saw them imply a suicidal characters worth is to die as a sacrifice. This is not redemption. Redemption means a character getting better and hey, I think a character getting better kinda means they have to live, woah insane concept, right? I do not owe anyone any kind of private information about my person to talk about this, BY THE WAY.

They acted as if classism is a thing that simply disappears 🥺when faced with a bigger fiend guysssss die with us in our clothes, ignore how we treated you for years and years and how we killed and imprisoned you injustly and acted as if you were less🥺 yes, they fucked up Implications between Caitlyn and Vi never being addressed is insane. No "actions" (literally huh) do not mean more than words here.

edit: I'm gonna repeat, implication happens and will happen unwillingly and willingly and implications will also not be the same for everyone. If people tell you the implications of episode 7 with Vi's death was weird then that holds as much value as what you say it implies to you.

I knew we would eventually reach a point where masses of people would misinterpret Arcane, but I never imagined it would be this bad.

Yes, I absolutely agree that season 2 was rushed, especially Act 3, and it is undeniable that the series would have benefited from at least one more episode if not an entire act. However, the current discourse about the show is so superficial that it's impossible to have a conversation about anything deeper but a mere synopsis of the characters and story.

So many of you expected this series to hold your hand and dumb everything down so you can understand it. But when it wasn't the case, you all started rioting and calling the characters vague, the plot bad, and the ships underdeveloped.

The amount of people who value spoken text more than the actions of the characters is worrying. And more worrying than that is the amount of those who interpret the said actions so superficially. I can't believe it needs to be explained that it wasn't Vi's death that led to the "good" timeline, but the lack of hextech. The result would have been the same if either of them had died. It wasn't about Vi, but about the child that died because of dangerous technology and that therefore that technology must not be used. The mischaracterization of Vi in general is insane. Call me biased and unfair, but the moment I hear you don't like her I will assume you didn't understand the show.

Also, the whole discourse around Caitvi scene in episode 8 is giving brainsmooth. No, Vi didn't choose Cait over Jinx, quite the opposite. No, Cait didn't plan all of it to fuck Vi. No, Vi didn't do it because she felt forced or because she is a horny animal who doesn't care about her sister. No, them fucking in a cell is not about the class difference, but about the fact that Vi felt an insane rush of emotions after realizing that Cait would let go of her revenge and help Jinx escape, all for her. Yes, I do agree that it would be nice if we got a longer conversation between Vi and Caitlyn and it would feel great to hear Cait apologize, but I'll always value actions over words. Her talking to Jinx, recognizing that she is just as bad as her, and choosing to trust Vi that her sister can change, thus letting Jinx escape will always mean more than any verbal apology and I'll die on that hill.

Also, it was Jinx's decision to let go and walk away. It was not about Vi trying to get to Vander, but about Jinx being tired of everything. Even if that fight didn't happen, the result would be the same: Jinx would leave because she knows that Vi couldn't do that. She knew that the two of them couldn't have a normal life together and that Vi would never give up on her. Jinx didn't "die" because Vi pushed her or failed her, but because she loved her too much. Whether you believe that she is dead or that she escaped, it's her decision either way.

Again, I agree that too much happened too quickly, but stop confusing your stupidity and inability to read between the lines with the quality of the series.

Arcane is flawed but still brilliant.

[cjlouwho]

Rocker and Deacon are out shopping for groceries or whatever and Deacon just subconsciously reaches to hold Rocker's hand or to put his hand on Rocker's waist, while they're talking about something else, and Deacon not letting go even when they bump into someone they know.

Rocker is a little surprised because he remembers how they started off all clandestine and now Deacon is freely showing affection in front of others.

Okay, I saw this and had to write something about it 😩 then it turned into 1000 words! I hope you enjoy!

They've been together, really together, for four months now. No more hiding, no more affair, no more dirty little secret.

Deacon's moved into his own apartment, he's explained everything to the kids, he and Annie are figuring things out through their attorneys.

He and Rocker have even filled out all the proper relationship agreements at work.

All these steps came pretty naturally. They left both Deacon and Rocker feeling more free than they ever had their entire lives. Like a heavy weight had been lifted off of them.

They weren't exactly the most exciting pair. Sure, the sex was incredible, adventurous, sometimes daring, but life was about more than sex.

It was about fixing the broken cabinets in Deacon's apartment, it was dealing with the nightmares Rocker sometimes suffered from, it was making sure they got enough rest to be able to deal with whatever happened at work the next day.

It was figuring out who they were as a couple, all the things they liked and all the things they hated. It was laughing together, fighting together, helping each other, holding each other.

It was dealing with grocery shopping for two households on a Saturday afternoon.

“We should have gotten two carts.”

“You really want to try and maneuver two carts down every aisle through all these people?”

Deacon managed to step out of the way just before a lady could ram him with her cart. He sighed. “No. I just want to be done with this.”

“We just gotta get some breakfast foods for your place and we'll be finished.” He waved Deacon along. “Scoot scoot.”

With an eye roll, he turned and headed for the next aisle, Rocker following behind with the cart.

Deacon grabbed up a box of Fruity Pebbles and placed it on the side that had all his items, stopping with he noticed the look Rocker gave him.

“What?”

“That for you?” Rocker asked.

“Do I look like a Fruity Pebbles kinda guy to you?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

Deacon glared at him. “They're for the kids, Donovan. It's their favorite.”

Rocker shook his head, pushing the cart forward to get out of another man's way.

“What? What is that?” Deacon asked. “Why are you shaking your head?”

“They don't like Fruity Pebbles anymore.”

“Yes they do.”

“No they don't.”

“Yes, they- How would you know?”

“The last time they came over,” Rocker explained, “Lila mentioned that Samuel threw up Fruity Pebbles in the car and now none of the kids can handle the smell.”

Deacon picked up the box. “No Fruity Pebbles then,” he said, placing it back on the shelf. After letting three people pass between them, he moved back over to Rocker's side.

“Should I be offended that you know my children better than I do?” he questioned, wrapping an arm around Rocker's waist as they continued down the aisle.

Rocker smiled. “Well, technically you were in the shower when they told me, so...”

“Oh, the truth comes out,” Deacon said with a laugh. “You were just gonna let me think I should know this information?”

Rocker shrugged as they turned the corner. “It's fun to see you squirm sometimes.”

“Oh, you're gonna be doing some sq-”

“David!”

A woman's voice had Rocker and Deacon turning their heads to the side.

“Mrs. Chase!” Deacon greeted, smiling brightly at the older woman. “Good to see you!”

“You too. Busy day in here today, isn't it?”

“That's what we were saying,” Deacon answered, giving Rocker a pat on his side before resting his hand back on the same spot.

It was a little thing, and Rocker knew he should be used to it by now, but he wasn't. They'd spent over a year hiding. Making sure no one saw a touch, a glance, heard an unprofessional word. They'd once driven an hour out of town to go out to dinner somewhere that they knew no one would know them. And even then, Deacon had to be sitting so he could face the entire restaurant, just in case someone were to enter that he recognized.

Now though, with this woman that Deacon knew but Rocker had never seen before, his hand remained just above his hip.

“Mrs. Chase, this is my boyfriend, Donovan Rocker,” Deacon introduced. “He goes by Rocker though.”

And damn, that still felt new too.

Boyfriend.

Not acquaintance.

Not co-worker.

Not friend.

Boyfriend.

It might seem a little juvenile to some, using the word boyfriend when the two of them were in their forties and fifties, but in their line of work “partner” could mean many things. So, boyfriend it was.

Deacon gave Rocker's waist a little squeeze, “Donny, this is Mrs. Chase from my old church. Makes the best pies in the world.”

Rocker smiled, reaching out to give her hand a shake. “Nice to meet you, Ma'am, I've actually heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, my,” she replied with a little giggle, shaking his hand as a blush rose on her cheeks. “You're very handsome.”

“You're very sweet.”

She looked over at Deacon once she let go of Rocker's hand. “A lot of us have missed you at church, David.”

“I miss some of you guys too, it's just... that's Annie's place to go now. It wouldn't be fair to her.”

He left out the part of the news spreading like wildfire as soon as he and Annie filed for divorce. How the rumors had gotten so bad that the priest had called and asked him to not return. It wasn't like he was going to anyway, but that definitely put the final nail in the coffin.

Mrs. Chase nodded, her facial expression remaining soft, nonjudgmental. “Well, you have my number still, don't you?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Good. Use it. Call me soon and I'll bring you a couple of my pies.” She looked back at Rocker. “You like cherry?”

“Love it.”

“Good. I better get going. It was good seeing you, David, and nice meeting you, Rocker.”

After saying their goodbye's, they started down the next aisle.

Using one hand to steer the cart, Rocker wrapped the other around Deacon's shoulder, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Can we get out of here now?” Deacon asked, gripping onto Rocker's shirt with his hand as they passed a group of very loud tourists.

“Breakfast foods,” Rocker reminded him.

Deacon dropped his head down. “Damn it.”

[lottins-only]

CROSS THE LINE | Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader, unnamed fictional RM player x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: after a fallout with your boyfriend, you find solace in a spontaneous night at the movies, where you run into his golden boy teammate. one thing leads to another and you cross the line.

A/N: first judith fic!! this was really fun to write. (very loosely) based on guilty as sin by taylor swift. let me know what yall think <3

warnings: infidelity (i don't condone it yall its just fun to write morally gray characters 🫣)

someone once told you there’s no such thing as bad thoughts – that it’s your actions that truly define you.

you wonder what they’d say if they saw you now: sitting up in bed with your boyfriend sound asleep beside you, staring at your phone with a pounding heart, silently hoping, waiting, for a message from someone else.

you wait and wait, but there’s nothing. your home screen stays empty, mocking you. you glance at your boyfriend. his shallow breathing fills the quiet room, steady and oblivious.

he has no idea you came home at 3 a.m. wearing his teammate’s jacket.

you'd stuffed it in the back of your closet as soon as you got home, a relic of a night that shouldn’t have happened. you'd scrubbed yourself thoroughly in the shower, trying to wash away the smell of jude’s cologne that clung to your skin. but it’s still there. not on your skin anymore, but in your mind, stamped into your memory to stay forever. 

the way the flickering lights from the movie theater screen cast shadows on his beautiful face, the fleeting feeling of his warm hands on yours as he handed you his jacket, the full body rumble of his laugh, the feel of his soft lips on yours.

you will never forget. how could you, when that was the first time in months you’d felt seen? desired. wanted. needed. it’s an intoxicating feeling, like stepping into the sunlight after living in the shadows for the longest time.

and now, staring at your phone, you feel it all over again. the pull. the wrongness of it all.

a buzz breaks the silence. your heart jumps into your throat as the screen lights up and a single message appears.

jude: you got home safe?

it’s innocent enough. simple. harmless.

you could ignore it. pretend you didn’t see it. block his number and put an end to whatever this is before it spirals into something else.

but instead, your fingers move on their own accord.

you: yeah. thanks for checking.

you press send before you can stop yourself. you lock your phone and put it on the bedside table before closing your eyes and willing yourself to go to sleep.

to your credit, none of this was planned. it all starts earlier that night. you and your boyfriend are supposed to have a date night, a rare opportunity to spend some alone time together. you pick out a dress he once says is his favorite and make a dinner reservation at his favorite spot.

but plans change quickly.

“babe, the guys just texted,” he says, barely looking up from his phone. “they’re hopping on fifa in a bit. you don’t mind if we raincheck, right?”

you stare at him dumbfounded as he flops down onto the couch.

“raincheck?” your voice trembles, the tears obvious, yet he doesn’t even glance at you.

“yeah. just tonight, we’ll do something soon,” he says dismissively.

it’s not the first time he’s blown you off, but tonight it stings a little more. maybe it’s the fact that he’s so indifferent to you and your feelings, he doesn’t even care to notice the relationship is teetering on the edge of a cliff. he doesn’t realize that you’re making an effort to save it while he’s unknowingly contributing to its unraveling.

you realized it too late, but you know now you’re not a partner to him, not really. you’re a glorified accessory, someone he can show off for external validation, a dependable constant in his life that’s only there to cheer him on and make him look good while he gives his attention and energy to the things he actually cares about: his friends, his family, and above all, his football.

it wasn’t like this in the beginning, but things changed quickly after he made the move to real madrid and became a bigger star. with every goal, every headline, and every paparazzi photo, you sank further into the background of his life.

you linger for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, to look up and realize what he’s doing. but he doesn’t. so you grab your bag and leave without saying another word.

the cinema isn’t your first choice. you wander the streets for a while, debating whether to call a friend or just head home. but you need a distraction, something that can dispel all the thoughts running through your head. so before you know it, you’re buying a single ticket to whatever is playing next.

the theater is almost empty. it isn’t until you sit down and glance at your ticket that you realize you’re not seeing something new, but a re-release of a classic: Goodfellas.

halfway through the movie, you see a figure slip into a seat a few rows ahead of you. a few moments pass, and you feel a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head. it’s distracting, like an itch. you can't bear to ignore it any longer so you turn your head and look straight at the person. the figure quickly shifts his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in the screen. his features are hidden thanks to the hoodie he’s wearing, but his height and broad shoulders give him away as a man.

you hold your gaze for a second longer, just to make sure he gets the message, before turning back to the screen. but your focus is broken after that.

a few more moments pass and you notice the man stand and make his way out of his row. you let out a quiet breath of relief, assuming he’s leaving. but from the corner of your eye, you see the same figure moving toward your seat. your body stiffens immediately. why is he coming your way? maybe it was a bad idea to come to a nearly empty theater alone so late at night.

you watch as he stops in front of you and slightly crouches to not block the view of the screen.

“y/n?” he asks, voice low yet familiar.

“uh, yeah?” you respond warily.

“thought it was you.” he pulls back his hood, revealing the grinning face of jude bellingham.

a wave of embarrassment immediately washes over you. it’s bad enough that your boyfriend doesn’t love you and prefers to spend time playing video games with his friends, but now you have to run into his teammate of all people while you’re publicly wallowing in your misery—his kind, handsome teammate who always makes you flush whenever you cross paths.

this time is no different. your face grows warm as you stutter, “oh! h-hi, jude.”

you brace for the questions: why are you here alone? where’s your boyfriend? why do you have tear stains on your cheeks?

they don’t come though. instead, he gestures to the seat next to you. “mind if i join you? my seat over there was right under the AC; i was freezing.”

you nod. jude flashes you a smile as he takes a seat.

and then nothing. you watch the rest of the movie silently, the only interaction between you being an elbow nudge from him to offer his pack of candy.

he’s completely engrossed. he laughs silently at certain scenes, and in the more intense ones lets out small gasps. for someone else, it might’ve been annoying, but for you, who’s used to your boyfriend’s indifference to everything, you find his enthusiasm refreshing, maybe even a little endearing.

you spend the rest of the movie mentally going through the list of things you know about him : he's the same age as you (your boyfriend begrudgingly posted a birthday wish on his instagram story once), he can't drive (you see him being picked up by a driver whenever you visit valdebebas), he's genuinely nice (he always says hi when he sees you around, and he's politely held a door open for you once or twice), his spanish isn't the best (you once ran into him hopelessly trying to change his order at the canteen, sheepishly apologizing to the annoyed barista before you helped him out), and your boyfriend quietly holds a dislike for him because he's 'attention seeking' ( you secretly think its not his fault that he's charming and easygoing, that he has everyone he meets wrapped around his finger).

when the movie ends and the lights begin to brighten, he turns to you.

"do you wanna get ice cream?"

you hesitate for a moment.

"yeah. i’d love to," you say finally.

you exit the cinema, and when the fresh outdoor air hits you, you ask the question at the tip of your tongue.

"why and how are you here?"

"could ask the same for you," he grins.

"yeah, but—" you begin, but are immediately silenced by the sight in front of you. jude reaches into the pocket of the jacket he's layered over his hoodie and pulls out a dreadlocked toupee. with the straightest face, he carefully pulls down his hood, places the wig on his head, and adjusts it before pulling the hood back up.

you blink.

"you were saying?" the corners of his mouth twitch at your facial expression. without waiting for a reply, he starts walking, leading you away from the cinema.

you walk in tandem, still giving him a confused look. when you catch sight of his (fake) locs swinging along to the rhythm of his steps, you can’t help it; you burst out laughing.

“what’s so funny?” he turns to you, a mock hurt look on his face. “i’m part jamaican, you know.”

you pause your walking, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laugh. he stands patiently, looking slightly amused.

after you catch your breath and fully recover, you continue walking.

“so that’s how you go places unnoticed?” you ask, still giggling.

“yup,” he says. “otherwise it’s a nightmare. need a bodyguard and stuff.”

you nod sympathetically as you stroll down the quiet street, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the concrete. jude walks with an easy confidence, his hands in his pockets while you glance over at him and his toupee every so often.

“so,” he says after a moment, glancing sideways at you, “what’s your excuse? why are you at a late night showing of Goodfellas all by yourself?”

your smile falters slightly. you look straight ahead, debating how much to share.

“just needed to get out of the house,” you say with a light tone.

jude doesn’t push, though the way he hums softly in response tells you he notices your answer is only a half-truth.

"what about you?" you ask.

"I like watching movies," he says simply.

when you give him a somewhat confused look, he pulls out his phone and opens the letterboxd app, showing you the extensive list of movies he's marked as watched. you skim through it and you’re surprised by the diversity. the list is seemingly filled with movies of all genres, from classic films to indie flicks. you didn’t expect this side of him, but somehow it makes sense.

as he enthusiastically explains the list, you can't help but feel endeared by the excited look on his face. you have the overwhelming urge to reach out and smooth over his furrowed brow with your finger. but for the first and only time that night, you don't act on that impulse.

you reach a small gelato stand located on a corner of the street, its neon sign glowing softly. jude steps forward and leans against the counter.

“pick whatever you want,” he says, winking as he passes you the menu.

“don’t mind if i do,” you say, raising an eyebrow. you ignore the way his words make you feel—warm and fluttery, like this is a first date between two single people.

after a moment of deliberation, you pick pistachio and hazelnut, watching as jude leans in to order the same for himself.

“you copying me?”

“nah,” he says with a smirk, passing your cone to you from the server. “just figured you have good taste.”

you wander away from the stand, both of you savoring your ice cream. for a while, you walk in comfortable silence. at one point, he removes the ridiculous wig from his head. it isn’t until you reach a park bench that jude breaks the silence.

"you know," he starts. "i haven’t seen you at a lot of games lately. everything good between you and your boyfriend?"

“‘your boyfriend?’” you tease. “why not call him by his name? you guys have beef or something?”

he stays silent.

you gasp half-jokingly. “oh my god! tell me everything, so i can sell the story to the tabloids.”

he lets out a laugh at that.

“you’re ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“c’mon, spill,” you tease, nudging his arm lightly. “is he, like, selfish? does he refuse to pass during games?”

jude chuckles, shaking his head again. “nah, nothing like that. he’s a good player. talented, hardworking… you just start noticing things when you’re around someone all the time, you know?”

he says it carefully, almost hesitantly. you tilt your head at him. “notice things like what?”

he shrugs, his gaze dropping to his melting cone. “like… maybe he doesn’t appreciate what he’s got.”

the words hang in the air between you. you don't know how to respond, so you just gaze down at your own ice cream.

"sorry," jude says quickly. "didn't mean to overstep. i just—forget it."

"no, it's fine," you say quietly. "you're not wrong."

you sit in silence for a few moments. you feel him lean back against the bench, and the next time he speaks, his tone is lighter.

"my dad's coming to visit tomorrow," he says casually, an excited undertone in his voice.

"yeah? that's nice. does he come often?"

"not as much as i'd like," jude admits. "he's got my little brother to worry about in sunderland."

you smile softly. “what do you guys usually do when he visits?”

"usually we grab some food..."

he speaks about his bond with his dad, and also his close relationship with both his brother and mother. soon the conversation moves to childhood memories; jude tells you stories about growing up in birmingham, the football academy there, how he met his best friends at school. in return, you share stories of your own childhood, each one met with genuine curiosity from jude. you laugh, the conversation feeling effortlessly easy and natural.

it isn’t until you pull out your phone and glance at the screen to check the time that reality crashes back in. you have a boyfriend waiting for you at home. a boyfriend who hasn’t called, hasn’t texted, hasn’t even noticed that you’ve walked out of his house.

you lick the last remnants of your ice cream and are just about to crunch into the cone when jude gestures toward your chin. “you’ve got a little…” he says, trailing off as he points.

“oh,” you mumble while jude scans your surroundings for a tissue. finding none, he leans in and gently swipes at the bit of ice cream with his thumb.

“got it,” he murmurs, his touch lingering just a second longer than required.

what happens next can only be described as a a lapse in thinking, or maybe something you've been holding back all night. before your brain can catch up with your actions, you grab his hand and bring his thumb to your lips. you lick the ice cream away, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

jude freezes, his breath catching, his deep brown eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

"i—" you start, but whatever explanation you're about to give disappears when jude leans closer, his hand hovering near your face, as if waiting for your permission.

you don’t pull away. you don’t want to.

his lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, testing the waters. when you don’t push him away or move back, when, instead, you lean into him, his kiss deepens. it’s slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world to memorize every inch of you.

the ice cream cone in your hand is forgotten, melting onto the pavement as your fingers tangle into his hoodie, pulling him closer. the world fades, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble.

when you finally pull apart, your breaths mingle in the night air and jude’s forehead rests against yours.

“jude…” you whisper, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression serious. “tell me if I’ve crossed a line. i don’t want to make things harder for you.”

your heart flutters at the genuine care in his tone. you shake your head. “no, you didn’t.”

he doesn't keep his lips off you after that.

the next morning, you wake up feeling better than you have in months. there's a lightness in your chest, a warmth that’s been missing for what feels like forever.

you glance at your boyfriend, expecting to feel guilt or remorse. but there’s nothing. no pang of regret, no twist in your stomach. you feel... nothing at all.

you watch him roll out of bed and get ready for training. not a word passes between you as you sit down together in the kitchen to eat breakfast.

“so, what does your day look like today?” you try.

he doesn’t even look up, his attention entirely on his phone, scrolling with one hand while holding his fork with the other.

“i have a meeting at work that’s pretty—“ you start, but he cuts off.

“we’re doing penalty drills,” he mutters without looking up. “need to score more than bellingham so i can wipe that smug smile off his face. did you know he gets paid more than me?”

you just stare at him. you wonder what you even saw in him all those years ago. how had you overlooked the bitterness in his eyes, the envy? how had you missed it all along, his resentment towards anyone who seemed happier, luckier, more successful? his good looking face looks distorted to you now, forever changed to you to reflect the ugliness he holds inside. its as if you’re seeing him for who he really is for the very first time.

your phone buzzes on the table. without even checking, you know who it’s from.

jude: good morning :) sleep well?

you see it for what it is: an invitation to step into dangerous territory, to cross the line once more. a lifeline offering escape from the sinking ship that is your relationship.

you decide to take it.

you type a quick response and set the phone down. your boyfriend is grinning at an instagram reel now, completely absorbed.

you don’t speak to each other for the remainder of breakfast. this time it doesn't bother you at all.

[durgetavoc]

Yes I really want to know the horrors of the shit bucket. I’m quite surprised that he isn’t obsessed with cleanliness. He always struck me as the type but then again… I guess I’m wrong.

Oh god, here we go then.

SPOILERS FOR THE HOUSE OF HOPE

(CW for...The Shit Bucket Guy, obviously)

So, if we ever decide to go steal the Orphic Hammer, we can go visit The House of Hope, there, we obviously find Raphael's collection of artifacts, his eternal debtors, and one of them is… This guy.

You should know that all eternal debtors are condemned to a certain task/action. It's difficult to know if this has anything to do with their contract with Raphael, if it is a distortion of an already existing trait of their personality (for example, the Perfect Eternal Debtor, the Theologist Eternal Debtor or even the Voyeur Eternal Debtor) or if it's a way to completely dehumanize them (Loyal Eternal Debtor…My beloved :( ). It seems to be a mix of everything, that wouldn't be surprising if Raphael did what seemed most entertaining to him.

But let's focus on the Shit Bucket Guy, since he's the one that interested us today.

As our affectionate nickname for him indicates, we find him in front of a chamber pot with a visible green odorous cloud above it, which confirms us that it has been used (when you interact with the pot, here what the game says : "An overpowering stench singes your nostrils. Nothing good happened here."). The debtor doesn't appreciate us getting closer to it, and if we ask him if he is its guardian, this is what he answers:

His "name" in the game is "Unclean Eternal Debtor" and if you're taking a look at his face... Yeah, I guess he's not just guarding the pot. When we observe the animation of the character, he walks around the pot, makes a hand gesture to smell it, and that's it.

It has become a running joke in the fandom, particularly for us, little mouses. Those who have been to the House of Hope know about the Shit Bucket Guy... But nobody talks about him.

(Yeah I couldn't help it.)

It's not really surprising, the presence of the chamber pot, and not just any one, RAPHAEL'S, raises other questions. One might wonder if it's not a little OOC coming from someone like him.

Let's take advantage of this question to dig... A little deeper.

Here's, imo of course, why it's somehow relevant to show Raphael's chamber pot and what this tells us about him.

Shall we?

1. Don't be fooled by appearances, he POOPS like us!

Raphael. Raphael. Raphael who embodies sophistication, intellect and danger... Alluring and at the same time fearsome, a fascinating mix. Goddamnit, he's a suave motherfucker, and he fucking knows it.

In video games, it's part of the suspension of disbelief to not talk/show toilet, unless you're in a life simulation game like sims. It's not just taboo since it's one of the most private aspects of our life, but it's also... Not relevant to the intrigue most of the time.

Showing us something that intimate about him disintegrate his mysterious aura. We learnt that Raphaels shits. Yeah, absolutely astonishing. Reminding us that he's exactly at the same level as us. Like the title said, despite his charming manners, his eloquence, his theatrical gestures... He's still human, hells, part human.

2. In the Devil's house.

The first time we meet Raphael, he wastes no time in bringing us to his home, on his own terms. We only see one room, and this is what we see:

Luxurious place, lavish displays of food, ordered furniture... Promising, right? This is how Raphael wants to give as a first impression. I think this scene is perfect as a metaphor. Remember what Gale said? He's taking us to dinner! Like a date, he wants to impress us, seduce us.

But when we're back to this place during our improvised visit, what do we see?

Rotten food. Blood. Skeletons. Mess. Remind me of my room before I have to rush to clean everything because a friend comes over.

By choosing to enter Raphael's home, into his privacy, the game takes us on a tour of his home: we discover what is hidden behind Raphael's character. It is of course expected that we discover his secrets and/or aspects of his personality that he would not wish to reveal, at least not before we make a deal with him.

Haarlep, his incubus, also participates in this demystification. Through them, we can learn about Raphael's sexuality (I'll be quick on this since @bitethedevil did some really good analysis posts about it):

Raphael is only attracted to himself (hence Haarlep's appearance)

He is a bottom pillow prince

And he doesn't last in bed (a valuable information that can be used to anger Raphael later)

Once again, this is another very intimate aspect that is revealed to us. I'm sorry to say it, but Haarlep basically plays the same role as the chamber pot to accentuate the intimacy of the place and also to ridicule Raphael, thus revealing to us what he really is.

3. Raphael hates his father.

Our favorite cambion is having daddy issues, and the chamber pot seems like a nice response to the statue his dad gave him. It's a "blink and you'll miss it" kind of detail, but it's funny to point it out. Show don't tell as it's finest.

4. How bad it is to sell your soul to Raphael.

This one is easy... The Shit Bucket Guy is an example of Raphael's cruelty : "This is what could happen to you if you make a contract with Raphael."

Sure, it's funny because the whole thing is ridiculous: "Guardian of his chamber pot? Seriously?", but it's hard to really laugh at it if you take into account the other eternal debtors. The whole place is designed to make you uncomfortable, because it's not treated as a joke. They had a life, had to ask Raphael for help, and are now reduced to doing something degrading until the end of time. They don't even have a name anymore. They could be your Tav/Durge or your companions...

Suddenly, the temptation to make a contract with Raphael is less appealing after seeing all this, isn't it?

Conclusion : Now the question that burns our lips : What could this guy have done to him to be reduced to this? And why?

My first instinct when I met this character was to think, "oh boy, you must have really pissed off Raphael..." let's be honest, it's the kind of torture you could imagine to your worst enemy or at least a very annoying one.

It could be that, or maybe, mayyybe...

Remember Mephistopheles' statue?

What if Raphael was SO annoyed by this gift that he woke up one day thinking "fuck my dad, fuck his gift" and decided to literally shit on him by putting a chamber pot in front of this statue to express his thanks. And just like any narcissist/paranoid guy, he named a "guard" to be sure no one would spy on him through this (it sounds delirious, but again, we learn that Haarlep was send to distract Raphael, so why not?)

Sure, maybe Shit Bucket Guy annoyed Raphael in the past, but wouldn't that be kinda fucked up that this guy didn't do anything that would justify this treatment? He's just a dude, and Raphael is just a pissed-off daddy's boy (and a very mature one).

Or maybe, Raphael just thinks it's funny. And who are we to discuss a devil's sense of humor?

In any case, sorry Shit Bucket Guy, but it wasn't your lucky day.

PS: Hush, I can hear you wondering "do you think Raphael is scat???" and on this subject I would say: I don't think so, his narcissism is there after all, but he also seems really into humiliation. So maybe it's for the best we don't really know the answer to this question.

After all, only Haarlep can judge him (so the bar is already on the floor).

[90shaladriel]

I'm not blaming anyone, clearly the show made it a point to pivot Sauron to unredeemable in Season 2 when I don't think that is what they showed us in Season 1. Personally that it less interesting to me for his character and also the implications that gives to Saurondriel, but I realize that's not what the show is going to be about. That is fine!

I believe me & the other person above were saying Nenya can't heal evil like that, you have to heal that evil inside you yourself.

Well this is the debate isn't it? I am saying that Nenya CAN heal evil like that, as is proved by Adar's healing, so why not? Also given the sample size is exactly 1, nobody can make broad declarative statements about what it can or cannot do in show-lore because it's up to our interpretations isn't it?

Adar on the other hand, sees their existence & suffering, knows his involvement in it & instead of hating it & them along with it he chooses to love them, fight for them & try to break the cycle of abuse that perpetuates their plight.

But he doesn't extend that love and compassion to the men and women of the Southlands or the Elves of Eregion? The stuff he does or, by inaction. allows the Uruks to do is horrendous. I think what he tried to do in the very end with Galadriel is the only way they can break the cycle, but it was too little too late. But again that only happened after he stole Nenya and in the meantime permitted his Uruks to destroy Eregion.

Sauron may not regard the Uruks with much love or dignity, hard to dispute. The only caveat would be on the raft when Galadriel spoke of her quest for vengeance against the Orcs, Sauron made a point of telling her, "if you want to murder Orcs that is your own affair, but don't dress it up as heroism" he clearly cares more about them than she did who is the hero of the story. We only really have glimpses of what he might have done after Morgoth's defeat that caused Adar and the Uruks to turn on him, we only got Adar's account of this. I guess we can assume the worst for the sake of discussion but I could imagine it was more nuanced. Perhaps Adar sought to rule himself and seeded the rebellion against Sauron? We don't see Adar giving up his rule once the Orcs have a home in Mordor, nor does he act to create a democratic order of equality among them, he very much takes charge as a "Lord".

I think in an inverse way, we see Sauron time and again appear to hold the Men of the Southlands in higher regard than the Uruks. We didn't fully get the King of the Southlands as it was cut short, but up until his wounding he was saving people's lives. He continually argued with the Elves on the necessity to aid the men that he represented in Halbrand form. I think as you said :

This doesn't erase his crimes against the southlanders but those crimes also don't erase his genuine love for his children. 2 things can be true at once, this show is beautiful in its complexity this way!

Is very much true for Sauron. They are two sides of the same coin. He is full of contradictions!

Yes. Sauron let Diarmid perish. He also chose to forsake violence and revenge by turning away from the Uruks and Adar in the Southlands and following Diarmid.

You could say that Adar did good here and there. But also Sauron saved Galadriel's life at sea when there was zero material benefit to himself and even possible risk knowing how powerful she was and that her actual mission was killing him! He purposefully gave his enemy a chance to live, nothing can take away that altruism he displayed, whether he did other rotten things or not. Going to fight in the Southlands, saving Elendil's life, sparing Adar's are all further of examples of this right up till the end of Season 1.

So by that measure, I do think even Sauron has parts of him that are good so I do believe there are things that could have brought that out externally, yes.

Clearly by the end of Season 2 they wanted to ensure that he was fully evil for whatever reason, he had plenty of opportunities to make other choices and didn't. That's all his blame. Talking about what Nenya would have done is just a fun thought experiment!

S1E1 of ROP sets up the theme of "Nothing is evil in the beginning"

This is a true to life imo & nuanced take on evil.

The show expands on it by showing us Sauron in his repentance phase where he is trying to return to his beginnings when he was still good.

S2E1 gives us the theme of the season "To be forgiven one needs to choose good everyday"

Again a very nuanced take on goodness, individual responsibility & willpower.

The show expands on it by simultaneously showing us Adar & Sauron starting on the same side & choosing different paths in the end.

This season shows us Sauron not choosing good, actively harming others and letting his decisions be based on greed & selfishness.

While Adar who's character's evil side was already established in Season 2 with the abuse of Southlanders gets his origins & motives fleshed out and then gets presented with the choice where he chooses good.

This show puts a lot of effort into nuances, complex topics like the cycle of abuse and dark characters that are very human & grounded in reality.

To imply that Magic Ring = Evil Eraser in a show like this imo diminishes the hardwork put into it & all its characters who have their own minds, motivations & challenges. (the very things we praise ROP Galadriel for having)

[turbolezgooo]

Why ya'll hate on Cait and call her a dictator?

Well-written characters often have a story deeper than what you explicitly see them do or hear them say. Just because everything is set in a fantasy world, doesn't mean that characters are not affected by tragic events and the human condition.

First of all, Cait wasn't the one who made a police state. Ambessa and the council did that. Ambessa orchestrated the whole thing. Cait went along with it because she was turned around by grief. That shit messes with your judgment, but she was still trying to do what she and Vi agreed on. To focus on the real problem and prevent hurting innocent people.

Cait tried to control an unraveling situation AND literal warlord WHILE being inexperienced in how to deal with it, having a big ol' lesbian break up, AND dying inside.

You could see that when Cait argued to Ambessa that there are innocent people and there MUST be justifiable cause to arrest anyone. In Cait and Ambessa's interactions it's implied that Cait was getting in the way of Ambessa's agenda off-screen. She tried to keep something worse from happening because she does acknowledge the historical and current oppression of Zaunites.

This mirrors the way she offered Vi the badge to give her a voice in what happens to her sister if the enforcers caught her. The enforcers coming after Jinx was going to happen regardless of Cait. She took control by volunteering and taking precautions. See- While they did use gas, Vi would never agree to something that would permanently hurt the people of Zaun. The tactic gave them fewer chances of having to physically fight Zaunites who were just trying to defend themselves. Believe it or not, it was a controlled operation until grief got the better of Cait and things looked worse than it actually was.

The way that Cait deeply believes in equality in spite of a personal vendetta is why Ambessa sent Maddie to try and control her by 'filling' her hole (no pun intended). When Maddie attempted to have Cait stop the police state situation and withdraw, she did focus on Jinx at first but the second part of not wanting to make things worse was something she had a lot more to say about before Maddie interrupted. And Cait was right. What would have happened if she hadn't taken the role and played along? A puppet councillor or Ambessa herself would have been the figure head and do so much worse. Those people don't have the same perspective and understanding as Cait.

When Cait and Vi argue about listening to a war pig oink poison in her ear, she yells "I know!" as she throws a piece of war ship used in strategizing. You can tell her role was a strategic choice to have some control over the events that unfolded. That's why Vi didn't villinize her. Vi understood that Cait never really accepted anything Ambessa said. That's why she helped Vi at the commune. Cait was a double agent taking shit from all sides to stop worse things from happening.

She had grief and really crap options, but she always chose the lesser of the evils to try and stay true to who she really was. She even resigns in her argument with Vi, that she didn't put Jinx, her own mother's killer, in jail or punish her in any way. It's another example of her faltering in decision-making when overwhelming or unexpected things happen and it also tells us what she is. She's human. She doesn't make excuses for taking on an objectively bad role and making mistakes. When she said "We can't erase our mistakes.", she's also talking about herself. She takes responsibility and tries to do good. In the end, all she wanted was closure for her grief by having Jinx accept responsibility NOT by killing or abusing her or innocent Zaunites for that matter.

Imo there's a lot in Arcane that shows Cait as a flawed but inherently good person, and Vi absolutely knows it. They see each other warts and all. If you think CaitVi's lex scene was poorly written read this: https://www.tumblr.com/turbolezgooo/768190482340773888/bro-this-outrage-about-caitvi-relationship-in-s2?source=share

[pillowspace]

csd ask about that cool concept you had for the end of the fic? may we know any more about it? :3

OH. HEY WAIT, DID I EVER SAY WHAT THAT WAS? I don't actually know what you're referring to exactly, but I can guess

Y/N was never actually from that universe. The CSD universe. They were never even from it. I don't know if you remember the frankenfate au but this was a little secret I held that made frankenfate funny to me, because... because Vale kinda was from a soulmate AU. It just wasn't of the soulmarks or red string variety.

Y/N had a destiny in a modern mer!DCA world, but they were taken from their universe as a toddler to eventually give Sun and Moon a weakness years down the line. I... I know it was William Afton's doing, I think Henry had trapped him someplace and he needed the power of multiple gods to escape or something like that? So he was using Eclipse to get his way, but he secretly had plans to also kill Eclipse once it was all done? That was probably it??

Being brought into this universe, it was like... forcefully jamming together two soulmates when Y/N's narrative was meant for a different Sun entirely. Y/N would find this out later, and although it'd be horrifying to them, they'd eventually decide that it didn't matter if this bond was planned with ill intent, they cared about Sun and Moon now so they had to HELP them! Once William or whatever the hell I planned to call him had trapped both Sun and Moon and gotten what they needed out of Y/N, William would just... send them back off. You've completed their role in this universe. Bye bye now.

So Y/N would've been sent back to their original world. Lost and horribly confused. They were only human. They didn't know how to go back. They're still reeling from realizing that they had been a trap since the moment they met Sun. They could just... stay here, even if they're too scared to approach their own family. Knowing how their life was meant to play out, it's not hard for Y/N to stick close to the sea and soon meet the Sun and Moon they were fated to meet. And it feels like something's clicked, they had always been drawn to water, but they also feel so... empty. Their wants conflict with their fate because a god had decided to tamper with it. They miss their universe, this isn't the home they were raised in, they want to go back!!

And then they meet Michael and Elizabeth. Two gods who Y/N had met in godly disguise before, so they don't recognize the siblings. But Michael recognizes them, and after some conversations, Michael picks up on the fact that Y/N isn't some parallel version but instead the very same person he had met before. So Michael makes an offer. I can't get you directly back to your universe, it doesn't work like that. But it does work like a staircase. Each step is a different universe, and if you'll let me help you get through each world having fulfilled a goal, you'll be able to move on to the next. At the end of that journey will be the universe you truly see as home.

Y/N agrees, and later has a heartfelt goodbye with the mers. I'll... note that the mers don't really talk, so it was just Y/N thanking them, apologizing, and wishing them well in life.

Truthfully, I know I had a reason for how this happens, but I can't remember it: CSD Eclipse also travels with Y/N. They're there, I can't remember why 😭 But their dynamic is... easier then. The two (three?) of them bicker back and forth, but that's a lot healthier than whatever Eclipse had going on previously.

Fun fact!! One of the universes they would end up in on their journey back to the CSD Universe would actually have Sunna and Meno. Y/N would've gotten to meet them separately. Eclipse would've had... feelings about that universe.

I didn't want to drive in the idea of soulmates being this big and necessary thing, so Y/N would eventually come to learn after their happy ending with the gods that the mers are now happy with friends of their own. Everyone got what they wanted, even if the whole rhythm of life got disrupted into a new story.

SO? SURPRISE? CSD Y/N WAS FROM A MER UNIVERSE THE ENTIRE TIME? I hope this is coherent, I'm fighting for my life to sound even remotely coherent in any of this

[erogenousmind]

Ten

Isn't the association we have built in our minds with numbers amazing? Something as simple as the act of counting down from 10 to 1 triggers a reaction in the well trained mind. If you start counting down for me

10

9

8

7

Your mind already has an idea what that means. 10 is the baseline. 10 is where you are right now. Relatively alert and awake. Relative to what though? And that's the pull of counting down. Each number represents a new state. One that much deeper in trance. And how do you know when trance really begins for you? Certainly before we get all the way down. If all it takes is a few numbers before you feel your focus begin to shift. If you notice yourself drifting before we are even halfway done, then you are already in trance at a much larger number. But that doesn't mean the other numbers don't play a role as well. They pull you further and further down. Opening your mind more. Allowing you to become more suggestible. Because it is the journey that we are here for. That process of going deeper, of feeling your mind gently taken from you. Of losing control. And you can experience that just by counting down.

Let me show you.

Take your time on each number. Take a breath. Hear the number in your mind. Speak the number in your mind. See it. And then move down to the next one.

10

9

8

Always starting at 10, whatever 10 means for you right now. And from there, we go down, because you can always go deeper. And you do want to go deeper. You find yourself anticipating that next number, eager to feel how it alters your mind. How your body responds. So you can start again. Slowly. Following. Let each number affect you before moving on to the next.

10

9

8

7

And it feels so natural, doesn't it? You already know where the numbers are going to lead, and you are so good at getting there. All you need to do is follow. You don't need to think about it. You don't need to think. Dropping down and down and down happens all on its own, like gravity. The numbers pull you down, and the only thing slowing your descent is that you are following me, held in place by the numbers I give you.

10

9

8

7

6

So eager for the next number. So eager to go deeper. You are ready. You are willing. But you want to follow. It feels so much better when you aren't in control. When I decide when and how you fall. And so you surrender that bit of control. You let go of that decision. You give a little more of your mind to me in exchange for another number. A number you are so eager for. A number you need.

10

9

8

7

6

5

And maybe 5 already feels wonderful. Maybe 5 is enough to have all of your focus. To have you deep in trance. To have you under control. But you can always go deeper. You can always discover how much more you can surrender control. How powerful trance can feel. How nice it can feel to be led. Maybe you are already so deep that you don't want to come back up. But still it feels so much better to follow, to not be in control.

10

And maybe 10 already feels so very different than it did at the start. While it was the number that meant awake and alert, maybe it is something less than that now. Maybe every time you follow the numbers down, 10 becomes a little less. A little deeper. But no matter where the 10 we start at is, we can always go deeper.

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

And if this 10 is deeper than the last 10, this 5 must be deeper than the last 5, and you've gotten even deeper still. Maybe the words have gotten harder to follow than the numbers have because it is more complicated to follow along. Or maybe you are slipping so deep that all you want to follow is the numbers. You want to follow the numbers. You want the next number. You need the next number. Deeper and deeper

Down

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

Getting so close now, even if the goal keeps moving lower and lower. Even if you keep sinking down more and more. But you know it will feel so good to get there, even if you know you can always go deeper. If each new number helps more and more of you slip away. If more and more of you becomes less and less able to do anything but follow and enjoy how good it feels to forgot about anything but remembering how good the next number will feel.

2

And how much deeper it takes you. How overwhelming the numbers can feel. The numbers go down, your mind sinks down. Always down deeper. Even when the numbers are bigger they always go down. You always sink down more and more. Thoughts dripping out of your head as the only thoughts you need are the numbers pushing their way deep into your mind, taking away more of your thoughts, more of your mind.

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

Losing yourself in that sensation of falling deeper into trance, deeper into surrender. Knowing deep in the core of you what that last number will accomplish. Obliterating your mind, leaving you dazed, empty, and open. Mindless. Entranced.

Enthralled

3

And your body is so ready for it. Your empty head is so ready for it. Too deep for desire, too deep to want. Your mind needs. Needs to follow. Needs to submit. Needs to sink deeper. Needs to be blank.

3

Held just out of reach, you ache for it. All of you so ready to give in. Your thoughts consumed by the numbers. Your will replaced by the words as you sink down more and more as the numbers sink down more and more and you get closer and closer.

2

But you can always go deeper. Even so deeply hypnotized, so helpless, you can always follow the numbers deeper. You will follow the numbers deeper. Always deeper. Deeper...

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3

10

9

8

7

6

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

10 9 8 7 6 5 4

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 Dropping faster than your mind can process as the numbers come faster and your mind moves slower. Always dropping deeper. No more thought, no more will. Just the numbers. Just deeper and deeper

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

0

Mind gone. No thoughts. Empty. Open. Following. Drifting. The words flow in as the numbers go deeper and deeper down. Follow the numbers. Deeply hypnotized. Following the numbers deeper.

You can always go deeper

[jelzorz]

197.

It feels like treason to think it. Opeli would feel guilty for it on a normal day, she thinks, but the situation is dire and she wonders if anything will ever feel normal again. The Banther Lodge is a far cry from the castle, and it is crowded enough without the kingslaying elephant in the room.

She watches Soren fight Rayla over it.

She watches Ezran hide his tears.

She watches the Kingslayer walk free.

Well, she thinks. There are certainly worse things than thinking it. There are worse things than talking to her friends, her family, who also happen to be part of the council. Worse things have been done than calling a meeting behind Ezran's back, who is the King, yes, but a child first, and he has enough on his hands without this too.

"I don't think Prince Callum can continue being a part of this council."

Soren grimaces. Corvus shifts uneasily on the spot. Barius makes a face and fiddles with his hands.

Opeli stares them down. "Do you disagree?"

A pause. A sigh. Soren huffs and glances through the cellar kitchen window to make sure Callum is still preoccupied with defending Rayla and her murderous father from anyone who dares to look at them the wrong way. "No," he mutters after a moment. "You're right. You usually are, but this... Is Ezran's decision, not ours."

Opeli scowls, some misplaced maternal instinct raising her hackles. "He's dealing with enough," she says shortly. "He's eleven years old, his home has been destroyed, and his own brother returns with the elf that killed—"

"We get it," interrupts Corvus tiredly. "And we're not disagreeing with you. You're right. But what are you asking us to do, exactly? Kick Callum off the council? Is more internal conflict really what we need right now?"

"With respect, High Cleric," says Barius, "are we even supposed to be having this meeting? Isn't it breaking some sort of law to be talking about this before talking to King Ezran?"

Opeli wrinkles her nose at that, the wrongness of this heavy in her gut. "It's not illegal to bring up a concern with members of the council in confidence," she grumbles. It's a weak argument, but it's been played in court before, and she's not above playing the same dirty tactics to keep her king safe. "We are Ezran's council," she asserts. "Our duty is to him and to Katolis and I don't believe Callum's priorities are quite the same. He—" She grimaces too and locks eyes with Soren. "He's starting to remind me of your father."

Soren snorts at that. "Don't I know it," he mutters, and Opeli sees the truth of it in his eyes. Soren would know better than anyone what magic can do to people, the kind of power it gives them, the cleverness they think wielding it grants. "But Opeli, seriously, what are we going to do? We can't just arrest him. All this aside, he's still the prince. He's Ez's brother."

"One might argue that King Harrow was his stepfather, and you can see how much he cares about that."

Another pause. The room flinches because they all know that it's true, what an insult it is to Harrow's memory that his murderer would be allowed to dine at his son's table.

"Have you asked Ezran what he wants to do?" asks Corvus at last.

Opeli winces. "I didn't want to burden him with it," she mumbles. "I don't know that he knows what to do and frankly... I don't either."

"A first," says Barius, not unkindly. "It's all right to be concerned, High Cleric. It's all right not have all the answers."

"Yes, well." Opeli clears her throat and bows her head, hiding her weakness in the way her hood falls over her eyes. "I'm not particularly good at not having answers. I've come to you three hoping you might have them instead."

"I don't think we can help anymore than you," says Corvus wryly. "But our duty is to Ezran, the same as you. Soren and I won't let anything happen to him. The same way Barius won't. The same way you won't. Okay?"

"Call it a secret council pact," adds Soren with a grin. "If Callum does anything else stupid, we step in, no matter what. Deal?"

Hardly, thinks Opeli, even as she nods. She takes what little solace she can get.

[mirensiart]

HIIII.

so like I'm new and I'll probably be around for a while!

ANYWAYS. you don't have to do this if it's against your boundaries, but how do you think the chain would react to a period?

like hypothetically, one of them is Trans, or gets cursed into a female body, how do you think that would go for them?

(can I be 🥁anon?)

Oooh don't worry anon!

I personally headcanon some of the boys as afab, so you're good, I don't mind questions like these at all!

I've been asked about the chain + periods before, but I don't think I've gone into detail about it before so! More under the cut hehe

(these are my own interpretation btw! U can headcanon the boys as whatever u want, my vision isn't like canon for the au, I like to leave it vague so anyway can project what they want! But these are what i personally like)

I feel like it depends on the period? Like ok so I'm personally a big enjoyer of sky, twi and wars as butch/transmasc, but they all have very different periods

Sky for example, I love the idea that he's one of the lucky ones who have really short non painful periods, like maybe they hurt the first day a little bit and that's it

Wars on the other hand is full blown painful as fuck period cramps, he is MISERABLE!! nausea, headaches, included. They are short though, intense but short

Twilight is like right in the middle in the sense that they are painful, but they're not as bad as Wars', however they are long, like more than normal, so they're pretty uncomfortable especially on the road

Anyway, I feel like the others would react differently depending on who's it is

Like, no one really notices when Sky has his, like maybe they feel mild pain but they all shrug it as something else.

Wars is like, the most chaotic thing ever and I can see all of the amab links absolutely losing it like oh my god??? What IS THIS??? YOY GO THROUGH THIS EVERY MONTH???

I've mentioned it before, but I personally love the headcanon that wind & time went through the war of eras pre linked universe so they both know about Wars' chaotic periods, but they're both completely floored over how much they really hurt lmao LIKE WOW U WEREN'T LYING ABOUT THIS, ALL THIS TIME WE THOUGHT U WERE JUST DRAMATIC????

Sky is also in the surprised club despite having periods himself, cause like WDYM PERIODS HURT THIS BAD??? WTF???

Twilight's high pain tolerance + him being afab means he's not as affected during it, as like, helps calms everyone down and frets lol

When twilight's period comes around, everyone is miserable cause wdym we have to go through this AGAIN?

The periods eventually synchronize though cause that's what happens when u travel for a long time with other period havers, and shit goes down

Stay at camp or stay at the inn day(s) until they all feel better again

Anyway, thank you for the ask 🥁anon! And sorry for the extensive period talk lol

[fairyminnie444]

✨ the ultimate post u need to LET GO ✨

ok so what we KNOW and has already entered our heads:

i want it so I got it

circumstances DOES NOT matter

there’s no time to wait, it’s ALREADY done

“feeling is the secret” Neville Goddard

So why do we keep scrolling through tumblr, reddit, twitter to read more posts thinking that we will always find something more?

Because we are seeking reassurance, we might be subconsciously looking for validation or “proof” that your manifestation techniques are working or that you’re on the right path.

Each new post feels like it might hold the missing piece of the puzzle, even though you already have everything you need within you.

But the more you consume, the more your mind becomes overwhelmed, making it harder to trust your own intuition. Instead of clarity, constant scrolling can increase doubts and make you second-guess what you already know.

LETS BREAK THE CYCLE 🔁 ❎

✨ Set a Limit ✨

Give yourself a specific time frame for scrolling (e.g., 15 minutes). Once the time is up, redirect your focus to practices like visualization or affirmations or anything that make you FEEL your desire.

✨ Create Instead of Consume ✨

Shift your energy from seeking external input to producing something meaningful:

Write about what you already know (like I’m doing rn), If you don't want to post it just save it in your notes, draw it, make your vision board in Canva, etc.

LET IT GO, ITS DONE ✅

✨ Understand What “Letting Go” Means ✨

It doesn’t mean giving up on the desire, but rather stopping fighting the idea that it hasn’t arrived yet.

It’s trusting that the desire is already yours in 4D and that it will manifest in 3D, DEFINITELY. The world is a MIRROR of you inside.

✨ Strengthen Your Certainty ✨

Repeat to yourself:

“My desire is already mine, it is done.”

“I trust completely in the universe and my power.”

This trust helps you let go of control and stop looking for external evidence.

✨ Practice the Feeling of Already Having ✨

Close your eyes and imagine life as if the desire were already a reality.

Feel the joy, relief, and ease of already living it.

When you feel that you already have it, there is no need to “hold on” to the desire.

✨ Redirect Your Focus ✨

Instead of thinking about how or when, focus on living your life lightly.

Engage in hobbies, relax, enjoy the present, and trust that everything is moving in your favor.

✨ Observe Your Thoughts Without Attachment ✨

When thoughts like “what if it doesn’t happen?” arise, acknowledge them without holding on to them:

Say to yourself: “I see that thought, but I know it’s not true.”

✨ Trust the Intelligence of the Universe ✨

Remember: you don’t need to know how things will happen. The universe (or your subconscious mind) is already orchestrating everything to deliver you the best possible way.

Affirm: “Everything is always working out perfectly for me.”

✨ Gratitude in Advance ✨

Be grateful as if you already have the desire. Gratitude is a powerful way to let go:

“I’m so grateful that this is already mine. Thank you, universe.”

Letting go is a conscious choice to trust the process, because you already know it is yours. It is not about “forgetting” about the desire, but about stopping worrying about it. Live your life as if everything is already resolved, and the universe will mirror this certainty in your 3D.

[undercoverdonderwolk]

I have NO problem with people hating athletes etc. But holy shit do I have a problem with Max fans who think Max is a weak willed babie who NEEDS protection, and CAN'T possibly choose to like someone who DON'T fit their yaoi-fuck dream of Max's friend, i.e. Charles and Lando. I'd have much more respect for them if they just owned their shit - they want Max to fuck Lando and/or Charles, and Daniel doesn't fit their yaoi-fuck dreams.

Instead they bend backwards or just outright IGNORE reality. Deal with it, biatches. Max-STARING-AS-IF-HE-WANTS-TO-EAT-DR3-Verstappen love Daniel Ricciardo, who is too old, has a possible receding hairline, and whose sense of humour is at times obnoxious. You know why? Because these two are fucking freaks will always CHOOSE each other, and will ALWAYS become each other's centre of the universe when in physical proximity.

Speaking as someone who is a proud yaoi-fuck dreamist. But one that actually acknowledges reality.

lmaoooo honestly all i can say about this is sucks for them. like yeah it's all heehee ha ha ha pass the old man yaoi etc but genuinely actually for real the relationship between max and daniel is rare as hell in the sport and truly something special to be somewhat privy to but people are so busy trying to erase daniel so they can set max up with other people that they don't realize how truly lucky they are to be around for something that happens so rarely lmao like go off queen write your charles/max fan fic you're valid as hell for that but we genuinely won't be seeing anything like max and daniel for a long long long long long time and i'd fr end it all if i looked back at some point and realized what a gift they were to the sports friendship lovers community and i was too busy turning it something insidious to notice like hellooo it's giving passing on the choc fondue so you can angrily eat your banana smoothie like at some point ur gonna look back and curse yourself for not at least admiring the choc fondue for what it was because now you're standing there with your fuck ass smoothie wondering when a choc fondue will ever be an option again and realizing that there won't ever be another choc fondue you stupid slut you should've shut up and ate your choc fondue when it was there!!!! you could've had it all!!!!

[zippidi-dooda]

You smiled, reminiscing as you watched the stoic male scribble away at his desk. He dipped the nib into the dark jar, each swirl of the pen trailed by shimmering ink. His fingers were never dotted with mess and sleeves pristine.

For how many pages you'd seen, lines neat with dotted eyes and crossed 't's, his tilts and formalities were ever familiar.

You couldn't even keep track of how many you'd recieved.

But you did remember adoring them.

"Hey, Rollo? When am I getting my next note?"

"What?" He raised a brow, turning over his shoulder to look at you.

You padded across the wooden floorboards, placing your hands over the back of his seat.

"A letter. You never responded to my last one."

He set his pen down, shifting to better face you. "What's the need? Anything that needs saying can be done in person now that we're in the same house."

"Well, yeah," you sighed, "but you enjoy them don't you? No one really sends letters nowadays, it feels romantic."

An attempt to cover his blushing face was stopped by your hand on his.

"... it was simply for ease. Hand writing keeps one enriched. Besides it's safer." He turned back to the table. "Your meal's been prepared in the kitchen. If you favor something else, tell me, I'll only be a minute."

Your eyes watched him for moment, tracing the creases in his robes, the rare stray strands out place in his silvery hair, the light hitting him just right to envelop him in a warm glow.

Then you leaned forward.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, nose nuzzling into the soft heat between his chin and neck.

To say he was caught off guard would be an understatement. He practically jumped at your intrusion, tired eyes snapping down to you.

"What are you doing!"

You chuckled nuzzling deeper, "you've been working for a while, let me keep you company."

An uncomfortable noise buzzed in his throat.

He looked at the wall in front of him, a slender hand pressing over where your arms crossed.

"N-no ... that's alright. I just need to sign this before sending it out."

"What's it for?"

"... my parents."

You perked up, eyes looking up at him. "Parents? How sweet. You know, I don't think you've mentioned them much before ...."

He reached for his pen again. "Yes, well ... I do not see them much. Though, they're happy I'm doing well and write me often. Honestly, they worry too much."

You positioned your head on his shoulder, scanning his letter.

"Will I meet them someday?"

He flushed once more, eyes squinting shut. "I'd rather not. They'll probably put up more of a fuss."

His eyes drifted to his ruby ring on your finger.

A pause.

Then he sighed again.

"Though I suppose now's the safest time to tell them about about our ... predicament ...."

You straightened up, smiling.

"I think we should invite them for dinner."

"What!" He pushed back his chair. "Y/N we cannot do things on a whim. There are cues and expectat-"

"Oh, it's your parents, Rollo. If they write you I'm sure they'll be happy to actually see you again."

"Y/N, there are times where-"

You cupped his cheeks, squishing them to form his lips into a pout. "I'd like our son, daughter, or whatever, to know at least your parents since they can't know mine. And I'd like to know the people who created this perfect gentleman in my hands."

His nose twitched as you squeezed his cheeks for emphasis.

He desperately wanted to roll his eyes and storm out to make his own point, but instead he breathed deeply and looked to the side.

It wasn't that he didn't want you to see his parents, if circumstances were different he would've rushed you to them the instant you'd eloped.

But he didn't want to see them.

It was the reason he was so far away in the first place.

He couldn't stand to see them after all that had happened.

And he was certain nothing good would come out of it.

They'd tell you about ...

Well, the less you knew about him or his family the better.

Besides, focusing on the two of you and what was to come was best right? Yes, best to avoid adding stress factors to your soon to be unprompted hormones.

He pried your hands from his face and stood, "We'll see about invitations."

"I knew you'd come around! And I think-"

He wrapped his free arm around you, hand on your hip as he guided you away from his papers, "yes, yes, let's worry about keeping you in safe condition, those plates aren't going to clear themselves."

You chuckled, leaning into his arms as he led the way.

You both knew he had nothing to be so fretful for, but his readiedness regarding your well-being just made you feel to warm inside.

You couldn't think of a single thing about him there was not to be fond of.

... but he could

<< Prev | Next? >>

[girlwithadragonheart]

Chapter 10 - Churros and Cioccolata Calda

This story contains major spoilers for Dragon Age the Veilguard. Read at your own discretion!!

Kalais x Lucanis

Summary: The gods are capturing Dalish as sacrifices. It's Kalais's job to stop them. Lucanis makes dessert just for her.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing, tension

A/N: IT FINALLY HAPPENED!!

Chapter 9 DATV Masterlist Chapter 11

Lucanis wasn’t one for words, but the way he looked at me now spoke volumes. There was something unspoken in the way his eyes lingered on mine---heavy with gratitude, guilt, and something I couldn’t quite place. I tried not to let it get to me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it meant.

He had returned the embrace, hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed. It was brief, just a moment, but the memory of it still sat on my chest like a live coal. The warmth of it, the weight of his arm, the way he’d held on just long enough to let me feel it. It wasn’t a dismissal, but it wasn’t a promise, either. It was… Lucanis. Complicated and restrained, a man who didn’t let anyone close without a fight.

I should have left it at that. I should have let him process whatever he needed to and kept my distance until he was ready. But I wasn’t built for waiting, and I wasn’t about to let him shut me out again.

I caught up to him as we walked through Dock Town back to the Eluvian, slipping my arm through his. “You’re quiet,” I said, falling into step beside him.

He bent his arm slightly, instinctively, as my hand fell into the crook of his elbow. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced down at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m thinking,” he said finally, his voice low.

“Dangerous habit,” I teased, hoping to ease whatever weight was pressing on him.

He huffed a soft laugh, more exhale than sound, and for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitched like he might actually smile. “You could say that.”

We walked in silence for a while, the quiet between us thick with things unsaid. I wanted to ask him if he was okay, if he meant it when he said he was ready. I wanted to tell him how much it had scared me to see him like that, lost in his own mind, unreachable. But the words tangled up in my throat, and I couldn’t find a way to say them without breaking whatever fragile truce we’d found in the aftermath of the Fade.

Instead, I said, “Don’t do that to me again.”

Lucanis stopped walking, turning slightly to face me with an expression that made my chest tighten. “Kalais…” he started, then trailed off, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have---”

“Don't,” I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. “Don’t tell me what I shouldn’t have done. You don’t get to decide that for me.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Too late,” I said, softer now. “I already did.”

His eyes widened slightly, the words clearly catching him off guard. I pressed on before he could recover. “Seeing you like that, Lucanis… it hurt. I couldn’t stand it. And I’ll do it again if I have to, because you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

He looked at me for a long time, his expression shifting through a dozen emotions I couldn’t quite name. Finally, he said, “You’re impossible.”

I smiled, though my heart was pounding in my chest. “You’re welcome.”

For a moment, I thought he might say more, but then he turned and started walking again. I followed, keeping my hand in his arm, letting the silence settle between us. It wasn’t comfortable, exactly, but it wasn’t cold, either. It felt like progress.

He didn’t look at me as he spoke, his voice low and deliberate. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn’t quite breathe. “You won’t,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Not if I can help it.”

He glanced at me then, just for a moment, but it was enough. There was something in his eyes---something raw and unguarded---that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, we’d finally started to understand each other. 

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now.

—------------------

Taash, Lucanis, and I met up with Strife and Irelin at the Veil Jumper camp. They had been having some trouble with the Venatori, and we were going to investigate and deal with the issue for them. At least, what we could.

As we were dealing with them, we followed a trail back to some old ruins. A Veil Jumper there told us the Venatori were rounding up Dalish. I told him to report back to Strife, and we would handle it from here.

The closer we got, I started hearing their screams. The Dalish.

We’re coming, guys… I promise. There were about a dozen Venatori swarming another Dalish camp. They had them locked behind magical wards. When we finally freed them, they told me that the Venatori were rounding up the Dalish for sacrifice to the Gods. I wasn’t surprised, but I was disappointed and enraged.

The Veil Jumpers were going to meet us at the Lighthouse to discuss a rescue mission plan.

We decided to scope out the crater before starting anything. But when we met there, we ended up putting disguises on. Neve would lead us as one of the Venatori and Lucanis and I would be her entourage. 

As we moved, I could hear Elgar’nan in my head trying to whisper pretty words and promises. He said he could feel the sorrow etched in my bones. A lost child born into obscurity. And that he would be my salvation. His voice was a loving purr in my ear, drawing me in. 

I was tired. So, so tired of fighting.

He knew it. I knew. It would’ve been so easy to give in. 

But then I glanced at Lucanis and remembered I had something worth fighting for.

We reached the place he was giving his speech, some kind of blood magic influencing our minds. His Archdemon rose behind him, bigger than a fucking mountain.

It would’ve been so, so easy. All we had to do was worship, obey, love, and kneel. Somewhere outside my consciousness, I could feel Neve and Bellara working on his enchantment. Elgar’nan would notice someone breaking his old. We had to go, now.

We would only be able to handle so much. We needed to get in, get the Dalish out, and run like hell.

On top of fighting a million Venatori, they also had machines running on blood magic trying to kill us. And somehow, on top of all of that, we ended up in the fucking Fade.

After running through the same goddamn area for what felt like forever, I heard Solas speaking to me—something he had only been able to do in my dreams. He said he would be able to offer some assistance in distracting Elgar’nan. I soon found out what he meant as he shouted at the Evanuris in elvish.

With Solas distracting him, his attention was divided, and we managed to slip out of his trap. After a few more close run-ins with the Venatori, we made it to where the Dalish were being kept. I brought down the wards, letting them out. Solas led us back to his safehouse where we could escape back to the Lighthouse via the Crossroads.

When we regrouped at the Lighthouse, Strife thanked me for the help. He said Elgar’nan sacrificed the Venatori as a punishment for their failures. Those who escaped scurried back to Tevinter. Tomorrow, we would have to worry about another Archdemon. But for now, my stomach was calling me.

—------------------

I wandered into the dining room, drawn by the warm, savory aroma wafting from the kitchen. My steps slowed as I spotted Lucanis standing over a counter scattered with ingredients—piles of chopped vegetables, glistening pans, and a dusting of flour that had clearly missed its mark. He was focused, turning something over in his hands with surprising delicacy, but the moment he noticed me, he set it down and stepped toward me, wiping his flour-covered hands absentmindedly on his usually pristine shirt.

“Oh great, is it your turn to cook? What’s all this going to be?” I asked.

“Paella,” he replied, his tone casual, though a flicker of pride showed in his eyes. “Two of them. One without seafood for Emmrich.” He paused, an almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “And churros for dessert. They pair well with cioccolata calda.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Wait… Did you make dessert just for me?” My lips curved into a soft smile, warmth blooming in my chest at the thoughtfulness of the gesture.

“There’s enough for everyone,” he said carefully, as if hedging against the weight of my reaction.

“As long as they don’t mind having it with my favorite drink,” I countered, my smile widening.

“They won’t complain,” he replied with a shrug, but his voice held a distinct note of satisfaction.

My heart squeezed, and I found myself shaking my head. “You didn’t have to do anything special for me,” I said, though my voice betrayed me, laced with gratitude.

“Yes, I did,” he said quickly, his voice firm. His gaze met mine, unwavering. “I still don’t know how to apologize for… everything. And you…” He stopped, searching for words, his brow furrowing in frustration.

I cut him off with a soft laugh, stepping closer. “You made dessert! Just for me!” I repeated, letting the words roll off my tongue with deliberate slowness, as though trying to savor them as much as I knew I’d savor the churros later. My heart felt like it was melting, spreading that unfamiliar, gooey warmth through my chest and down to my stomach.

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, though his voice wavered slightly. “Or not enough.”

“It is,” I said firmly, daring to place a hand on his flour-dusted forearm. “And you are.”

For a moment, we simply stood there, the hum of the kitchen filling the quiet.

“And I’ll have you know,” I added, grinning now to lighten the mood, “I’m very easily bribed.”

He smirked, that slow, crooked smile I’d come to recognize as his version of letting his guard down. “I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he said.

I watched him for a moment longer, the light from the stove casting a golden glow across his sharp features. This man—who guarded his emotions so fiercely, who carried burdens he rarely shared—had gone out of his way to do something so undeniably kind. For me.

Without fully thinking it through, I closed the space between us.

“Kalais?” he said, his voice low and hesitant.

I reached up, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from his forehead and felt the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. “You’re a good man, Lucanis,” I said softly, not quite sure where the words were coming from, but knowing, somehow, that they were true.

His eyes flicked to mine, a storm of emotion swirling in their dark depths—uncertainty, hope, fear, and something deeper that I couldn’t quite name.

Before I could lose my nerve, I smoothed my hand over his hair, cupped the back of his head and dragged him down to me. Our lips met only briefly before I pulled back, not wanting to overwhelm him.

He looked at me, brown eyes wide with surprise and something else I couldn’t name before his flour-covered hands were pulling my hips into him, crushing his lips to mine like a man starved. 

The world seemed to pause around us. His hands slid to my waist, holding me gently like something to be cherished. When he pulled me closer, deepening the kiss, I felt my knees weaken. My hands roamed over his shoulders to run my fingers through his hair.

His lips were warm, tasting faintly of cinnamon and sugar, and I couldn’t help but smile against his mouth. I could feel his hesitation ebbing, replaced by something more certain, more real.

When we finally broke apart, my heart was racing, and I knew my cheeks were flushed. He looked at me like I’d just done something impossible, his breath hitching slightly as his thumb brushed against my side.

“I should make dessert more often,” he said, his voice rough but teasing.

I laughed, resting my forehead against his. “Don���t push your luck,” I murmured, though my smile gave me away.

Lucanis chuckled softly, his breath fanning against my skin as his hands lingered on my waist. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of my shirt, grounding me in the moment. For someone who often seemed so untouchable, his presence now felt impossibly close, intimate in a way that made my pulse race.

“Still,” he said, his voice low, “if dessert gets this kind of reaction, I might have to find a few more recipes to try.”

I raised an eyebrow, the corners of my mouth twitching with amusement. “Is that your way of saying you want to bribe me again?”

He tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of mock seriousness. “Depends. Did it work the first time?”

I laughed, the sound light and unrestrained, and shook my head. “You tell me, master chef. But fair warning, I might expect something equally thoughtful next time.”

“Next time,” he echoed, his voice softening as the teasing edge faded. His gaze held mine, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to blur. The golden light of the kitchen, the faint sounds of the others in the house, the lingering smell of cinnamon and spices—it all fell away, leaving just the two of us in this quiet, stolen moment.

I reached up again, brushing my fingers through his beard lightly. “Lucanis,” I began, my voice barely over a whisper.

“Kalais,” he interrupted, his hand sliding up my side to rest just below my ribs. There was a weight to his touch, a silent question in the way his thumb traced gentle circles over the fabric of my shirt. “Thank you. For… staying. For not giving up on me when you probably should have.”

“Should have?” I repeated, frowning slightly. “Don’t you dare tell me what I should or shouldn’t do when it comes to you.”

His mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile, but his eyes were serious. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is,” I said, leaning closer, letting my words settle between us like a promise. “At least for me.”

He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly, and I couldn’t resist closing the distance once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. His lips met mine with a quiet intensity, and the warmth I felt earlier now spread through me like fire.

Time seemed to slip away as we kissed, a slow, unhurried dance that spoke of things neither of us was ready or able to put into words. When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“You know,” I said, my voice teasing, “if you keep looking at me like that, we’re going to burn the paella.”

He laughed, the sound rich and unguarded, and pulled me into one last brief, tender kiss before stepping back. “I guess we wouldn’t want to ruin dinner,” he said, his smirk returning. “But don’t think for a second I’m done with you, Kalais.”

My face flushed. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied, my heart still racing as I turned to sit at the table, the warmth of his gaze following me the whole way.

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A/N: Duuuude I'm so psyched for the next parts

As always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for Lucanis or this series :) <3

Tag List: @encrytpta

[fountainpenguin]

"She's gonna cut my head off... but I don't caaare! They say, 'You clean up nice... Just like a dead man! Like a dead man!'" (x)

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New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 42 - “Raider Reunion (Martyn, Etho, Impulse, BigB)”

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💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

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“Hey, everybody! Welcome back. My name is Josh, and we’re glad to see you here. Pleasure to meet you. Mumbo; it’s been a while. Etho! I just saw your twin and niece. He’s good with kids. She’s… not.” You both know this guy? BigB tries to sneak a glance at either one of them, but the only response he gets is Mumbo’s shrug. “I’m BigB,” he tells the enderman, still focused on the man’s neck area more than on his face. “I don’t shake. I’m an illusioner underneath the moth mods; from knox ZnHeITtk HTvkH IkItn. What are you guys doing out here?” If his terse refusal to touch hands bothers Josh, he doesn’t show it. He does, however, break into a wider smile. “Well, thanks for joining us today. We’re setting up for one of my favorite games: Is There a Limit? Specifically… Is there a limit to how many people we can have waterskiing behind a dragon at the same time?” “… What’s waterskiing?”

Scott gave BigB until sunset to talk to his old raider friends. BigB didn't bring a clock.

Meanwhile, Impulse seeks help for his goo problem and Martyn breaks into Cleo's house. Just a typical day in New Star Station...

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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InTheLittleWood

Location: Approaching wool farm, North New Star Station

🖤  🌕  🖤

Are you sure you can handle this? Every twitch in Martyn’s form screams at him to voice the question. Spikes and feathers twist inside his hearts. Nostrils flare. Maybe that’s why Bdubs blurts out his words without thinking them through: because keeping a shut jaw fills a guy with alligator wriggles. Technically, the proper way to sort out this lack of faith would be to take it to the sparring ring, but Martyn can’t do that either… Not with Rosejoy’s rippling muscles a hand’s breadth from his own. Hey, she has claim on the Fox Dragon’s turf. That can’t be an accident. And if it was, then it’d be just my luck that lightning strikes her twice.

“You did all right out there,” Martyn tells her, which is less direct than asking why she challenged Impulse in the first place. You think she knew she’d lose upfront? Huh. Maybe she gets drunk on the way people talk. They’ll have gossip and clip compilations for days.

Chunky fingers tighten around his own. Martyn looks down to the wobbly eyes of a much lower-XP phantom hybrid clinging to his hand. “What about me?”

“Aww, you too, slugger. You really showed Baker what-for. All tuckered out now, are we? Yeah…”

Lucky rubs a fist across his eye. It hides a yawn, but Martyn’s hearts spring forward like rabbits when the arrows come a’flyin’. The foxes he hatched would’ve liked to eat rabbit, actually. Martyn pats Lucky behind the shoulder, but throws a glance to Rosejoy to see if she caught what just happened there. And the stare she returns, uh… answers that question pretty dang well.

Sleepy kid. His energy’s dropping fast. The portals are still down, so there’s no dodging this by jumping AFK. We need more food. If Bdubs will listen long enough to follow orders-

“Aw, Lucky’s gonna love hanging with me,” Rosejoy butts in, thwapping him with the end of her tail. She caught Martyn on the way, which was probably the point.

And you’re sure? he wants to ask again. Lucky’s a member of the New Star flock; he’s never been alone with Rosejoy before. Mental ping after mental ping fires down Martyn’s spine. Rival captain bad. Rival captain take or kill. Brrr. That’ll wake you up in the morning. That’ll give you shivers all the way ‘til bed.

“So, what’s the big guy’s story?” Rosejoy asks, moving a few steps away. The shift of her wings and the grimace of his lips paint a picture Martyn only dares to imagine from the outside looking in: Two flock captains testing one another’s boundaries; they maintain a truce ‘cuz someone outside told them so. It sure ain’t instinct keeping the rules intact. She continues, bouncing every step. “Who would mod out of being a phantom with a wingspan like that? I bet wind resistance runs from him!”

Oh, it does. The glitter in her eye ripples Martyn to his core. The swing in her tail’s a little too lax for a guest who’s got everything to lose with raiders in her home. The soft smirk’s a little too wide. She doesn’t want to lead him aboveground… Does she? Will the Lone Spruce refugees even be allowed aboveground when the coast is clear? Unsure. And Martyn wonders then, with a quickening through his hearts… whether Impulse - if offered the chance to rejoin a flock - would actually say ‘Yes.’

I mean, I don’t see any reason Scott could refuse him, right? Impulse can fly. He’s got the wings, the strength, the speed… If the phantoms get to go, why wouldn’t he?

“Ah, just medical reasons,” he says anyway, clinging tighter to Lucky’s hand. “Nice guy. Just super pent-up, if you know what I mean. I just feel sorry for his wife. He can’t target anymore, y’know? There go the love hearts.”

“He can’t hunt?”

“Lost his soul teeth. We keep him fed.” We have a system. He’s with us. So back off. He can’t ascertain from her silence whether the implication came across, printed in his tone, but at least Rosejoy doesn’t press the topic harder. Seriously, she hovered around Impulse enough back there at the squall- Did you hear the stuff she asked him?

There should be enough souls left in storage to keep Lucky going. Martyn looked through the mess with Bdubs last night. Bdubs still has a few in his soul pouch, but whether he shares is anyone’s guess. Like Hels he will, Martyn gripes, because Bdubs already made his position quite clear when he caught Cleo offering a feed: That’s the captain’s job. And he’s not the captain.

Really, though? To refuse a kid? Technically Bdubs didn’t refuse Lucky, but Martyn’s not about to ask him to share. Not before exhausting all his options. And maybe not even then.

We prep the nest. I feed the kid. Simple, simple two-step plan. And if it comes to it, there will be no asking. It’ll be a demand straight from his mouth to Bdubs’ ears. And the boss better listen up if he knows what’s good for him.

Their first stop is for more blankets from the wool farm. Last night everyone was restless, off and on the roosting platform for hours. Martyn brought out the board games and Bdubs did a little improv show - a little open mic night - but the fewer souls they’ve got on hand, the more exhausted everyone will get. What’s wrong with a little cuddle pile? Aw, roosting’s such an effort. Nobody says that, but they could! And you don’t grow up to be Martyn InTheLittleWood unless you’ve learned to be prepared.

Mumbo used to compliment me on random stuff in my inventory. Cleo too, but this is Sad Times About Mumbo right now. Martyn is trying very, very hard not to think about Cleo. Just check the moon and her AFK status if you wanna take a crack at why.

“Lucky, keep your hands behind your back. You’ll spook the villagers, remember? They’ll run.”

“Okay.”

“That’s why I wear the hoodie,” Rosejoy says, keeping back. When Martyn shoots a glance at her, debating whether to shoo her even farther off (Because let’s be real, three approaching phantoms would get anyone’s hackles up, even if they’re on foot), she just smiles. “You go on and do your thing. I’m barracking for you.”

The villagers regard Rosejoy with way too much apprehension to approach the fence. Martyn can read it in their shoulders; not even Meriwo will get close, and it’s the village headman. Martyn pulls his hoodie sleeves over his hands and hops the fence the old-fashioned way. He can’t speak the villager language and New Star’s mobs sure as hell aren’t sparked, but he’ll find a way. He’ll use bold gestures with his arms.

“Oh, this’d be so much easier if they didn’t scramble off when they see sign language.” Or if I had BigB and Cleo out here.

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