#Broken heart Cult
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haitianempress · 5 months ago
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Audrey overreacting about telling the Agency that she doesn't have a license:
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Mikael:
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applinsoda · 11 months ago
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I was traveling in Silk cradle when Shamura decided to summon some of my followers and pit them against me. One o them was my (then) husband who proceeded to glitched out and become immortal. He then started infinitely dispensing skeletons and I had to quit the game…now you get this crappy doodle yay ✨✨✨
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eidolons-stuff · 2 years ago
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Ajax: *nervous* "um- ok... so- uhh"
Xavier: *watches with second hand embarrassment*
Enid: *thinking about the moment with Wednesday in the infirmary*
Ajax: *trying to get himself together* "so..."
Xavier: *speaks matter-of-factly* "Enid. My boy Ajax here likes you"
Ajax: "That"
Enid: *snaps out of her daydreaming* "what?"
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teatimemols · 8 months ago
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Astreas' last chapter was
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rangerfromstarship · 2 months ago
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so I started playing Cult of the Lamb
and I may have named one of the cultists Hua Cheng (yes, he is a red fox) - fully believing that he would stay there forever and I was going to create a Xie Lian as soon as I saw an animal close to a ferret BUT
HE DIED OF OLD AGE
I DIDN'T KNOW THEY COULD DIE
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ali-croft7 · 2 years ago
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Comforting the shopkeeper
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torgawl · 10 months ago
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firefly.... they killed our girlfriend????
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mymelodyisme · 3 days ago
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I!!! Actually don’t know how to flirt either!! 🫢 I just get flustered and talk a lot. I was way better at this in high school though. HS Mys straight up told boys she liked them 😭 well at least one of them
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faithfulcat111 · 9 months ago
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Love that Herodotus left my ship to go off on his own adventures and my character decides to immediately go to the Underworld.
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avelera · 1 month ago
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Finally put together why Viktor’s cult in Arcane is so unsettling
He removes all their “imperfections”, not just the one they came to be healed for. He gives them iridescent eyes and fixes their hairlines and makes them younger and fresh faced and docile
It’s not healing, it’s eugenics
Viktor is trying to fix himself after the fact and then once he has the power to, he doesn’t heal others, he tries to “fix” them too to fit a narrow, choiceless, homogenous view of what they should be, and then when humanity refuses to slice parts of itself off to fit his vision for it, he lashes out and thinks what he needs is more power to convert more people
It’s what makes Jayce’s plea to him so heart wrenching. To get through to Viktor, the only thing that works is an appeal against an insecurity that Viktor hasn’t even voiced. He’s never said he’s trying to fix the parts of himself he doesn’t like. He’s always framed it as altruism to others.
It takes someone as close to him as Jayce( who is guided by an older, wiser Viktor to experience a fast track of the poverty and toil of Viktor’s upbringing forced him to undergo, to get the same disabilities as him and a similar wasting sickness) to finally get through to Viktor that he’s not broken, that Jayce loves and admired him for who he is, because that is the only argument that could get through to the root of this awful attempt to change humanity to fit his worldview, in order to fix himself
And that’s why the cult was so fucking creepy
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poguehearted77 · 2 months ago
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Just Another Cliché
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Summary: Rafe has been asking to take you out for years and you always shoot him down, but after a particularly bad day, you decide things can't get much worse.
<<Here's some fluffy angst for those who need it>>
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Shitty was an understatement for the day you had. This day will go down in history as the worst day any soul has ever lived through.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The murmur is bitter on your tongue as you stuff your hands deeper into your warm pockets. The breath of your words were visible in the crisp winter air as you were about to pass by Rafe Cameron who waited patiently outside of your apartment building with a single rose just like he always did.
Since your senior year of high school, every year on the fourteenth of February, he would wait outside your complex, asking you out, then you say no, then he goes home. That's the tradition.
Well, technically you never said no. You'd always make up some excuse. 'I don't have time for a relationship right now' or 'Now's a bad time' are just a few of the examples you've used over the last five years.
It's not that there was anything wrong with him. You actually did find him attractive. Aside from the sketchy reputation he had going for him back in high school, he was still a relatively nice guy.
You just didn't have the time for a relationship, or at least you didn't before.
A small smile forms on his face as he sees you, already knowing what to expect. Another excuse like "Fine," yup, just as he thought- Wait.
"Say that again?" His head shakes in disbelief, blue eyes bulging slightly. Your shoulders shrug under your heavy-duty winter jacket. "My car was towed, then I lost my job, so why not lose my dignity too? Let's go out." You say and his heart begins to bounce off the confines of his ribs.
Not sure if it was the frosty air nipping at his cheeks or his lifetime wish finally unwrapping before his eyes, his cheeks flushed and he blinked a few times. "You won't regret this, I promise." he holds out the rose for you to take, and you finally do. For the first time in five years. You bite back a scoff, not in the mood for empty promises.
"Why haven't you given up yet?" You ask and now he places his hands in his pockets as a chilling breeze sweeps past you. He's rocking back on his heels slightly, "Life's too short to give up." The tiny smile on his face does make you scoff this time but he moves past it, "I'll text you later," is the last thing he says before he walks off.
You look down at the rose, then at his shrinking figure as he heads for the distance. A little pep in his step and you shook your head, immediately regretting your decision.
Great, this is exactly what you needed, another cliché.
-
Just another cliché is exactly what it was. On the lowest day of your life, you finally gave Rafe a chance. Of course, he changes your life in ways you couldn't imagine and leaves you with a dead weight of regret for not giving in sooner.
Your first date wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was fun. The two of you were inexperienced skaters failing to skate in the middle of the town square during the heart of winter. With festive lights outlining the rink where you laughed every time one of you fell.
There was even a point in time when you'd both embraced the cold connection with the ice floor and had a deep conversation on the sidelines, watching the other skaters circle the rink.
"Why me?" The question slips out before you can catch it and he licks his lips. He anticipated the query would arise eventually. "You remember that party Hailey Vanderbilt threw back in senior year?"
You hum with a nod, that was a party you'll never forget. Pool toys ended up in the trees, broken windows, jello in the hot tub, fights in the front yard and gambling in the back. "You and a few of the girls were playing truth or dare and they had dared you to start a rumour that I'd shaved my head because my family had joined some cult or some shit."
It took you a second, but the memory came back to you. "You don't know this, but I was fucking wasted behind the couch, but I'll never forget the way you stood up for me to them and refused to do it, and I dunno, I jus' think that was really cool of you." His head turns to you, his gaze softening when he looks at you.
At that moment, you felt the butterflies flap around in your stomach for the first time. He clears his throat, expression becoming more sombre as he continues. "My mom," He starts, taking a difficult swallow to get the words out.
"She was really sick. I got caught up with the wrong crowd to deal with it. Doing anything people said would get me distracted, even for a little, but she got worse and me being high every day didn't help so I quit. Her chemo was taking everything from her and eventually, she just shaved it off, she hated looking in the mirror and it killed me."
Your chest tightened at the story, having a sneaking suspicion of where this was going, "So when you shaved your head..." You trail off and Rafe nods along, turning away from you as a stray tear falls. "It was for her. You sticking up for me meant so much more than you know."
So there you both sat, on the ice with your backs against the wall in silence while the faint Christmas music chimed in the background. The date had taken a sad turn but you're glad it did, it sparked the beginning of your forever-evolving bond.
That was only the first date of many. Dozens and dozens of dates had flown past you and with each one you hated yourself a little more for letting him stand outside of your complex for five years rather than invite him inside.
"This is a nice place." He compliments as he takes a look around before settling himself on the couch with you beside him. "Thanks, it used to be a lot nicer when I could afford it. Had to sell some stuff to keep it after I lost my job."
He chuckles, "That explains why we're facing a blank wall and no television." and you pinch him. "Sacrifices had to be made. Who needs a TV anyways when there's so many other things we could do to keep ourselves busy." Your wandering hand gently runs down his firm thigh and you can feel the muscles in his leg tighten.
This was unchartered territory for you. You'd been dating for almost three months now and have never been intimate in that way, but Rafe knew the kind of person you were. A perfectionist, you need to be sure of everything before you try it.
Based on how fervently you were currently kissing along the length of his neck he could assume he had a pretty good idea of where your head was at. "Baby, baby--" He struggles to keep you at bay so he can lock eyes with you. "Are you sure about this? We don't have-" You silence him with the passionate attack of your lips against his.
Nearly tackling him onto his back, your hips straddling his as you demonstrated your certainty to him.
-
The months went on and sleepovers became more frequent. Even when Rafe had that tired look in his eye which was more often these days, you kept him up with your bright eyes and wide smile as you explained to him the newest conspiracy that intrigued you.
He tried his best to listen to what you were saying but he'd often lose himself in the labyrinth of his own mind. You were just so cute when you were talking about what you were passionate about. Especially when you wore the glasses you cursed so much, opting for contacts during the day.
"Why don't you wear your glasses more often?" He asks and you frown, "Rafee, did you hear anything I just said?" He nods, "Of course I did. I heard every last word.... up until about five minutes ago." You whine and he hugs you tight as an apology, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.
You couldn't stay mad at him. That was proven time and time again when even your biggest fights would be resolved within 24 hours. Rafe insisted on talking things out, no matter how hurt the both of you may feel. He never wanted to go to sleep without making things right. "Life's too short," He would say.
You both had your shortcomings, but that goes without saying. Rafe was short-tempered and you were stubborn, a bad combination for an opinionated conversation. Things can quickly spiral out of control but when it came to apologies, Rafe outdid you every time. Flowers, or a small gift to show his feelings.
Even now, as Rafe leant against your kitchen island as you transferred the flowers he'd gifted you 'just because'. A weak smile graced his lips as he noted the way you did everything with such intensity, putting your all into everything you did.
Leaning forward onto his crossed forearms he watches you. "You're staring, babe." You say and he can only hum. "Can't help it. I like what I see," His words elicit a soft warmth to radiate in your chest.
"I love you, y'know that?" You're startled as you feel his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. "You tell me only every day, Rafe." He comes down to peck your cheek before you're rotating in his hold to face him. "But I love you too." You're unable to contain your smile as you say it.
It wasn't the first time but every time the words left your mouth, it gave you a little bubbly feeling. Security blossomed within you anytime your eyes grazed over his features.
"Let's go out tonight, yeah? Let's go dancing." Rafe declares without thinking and you laugh, tilting your head to look at the time over the stove. "It's almost midnight, nothing's open at this hour." You reason, but he doesn't back down.
Holding you by the hand, he twirls you. "Not a problem, we'll just do it here." That night your apartment was filled with laughter and soft jazz. Rafe hardly ever had this much energy so late but you loved it.
Two days after that night of dancing, you woke up to an eerie silence that felt too heavy for the morning. You went about your routine, still buoyed by the memory of Rafe's laughter filling your apartment. You checked your phone—just the usual notifications, a missed call from an unknown number, and a message from Sarah that simply said, "Call me."
You barely had time to press dial before she picked up, her voice trembling. She tried to speak, but only the sound of soft, choked sobs came through. Finally, she managed, "I’m so sorry…"
The words hit you, but you didn’t understand them. You wanted her to stop, to say something else—anything else. She kept speaking, her words blurred and distant, as though you were underwater, drowning. Somewhere in her explanation, you heard the words, "peacefully… in his sleep." But it didn’t feel peaceful. Your mind raced, demanding answers. Why hadn’t he told you? How long had he known?
Over the days that followed, Rafe's family gently filled in the pieces: he’d been sick for years, silently enduring, doing everything he could to hide it. Every date, every moment spent laughing with you, was a deliberate choice he made to live his last days fully, in love and joy, with you.
He hadn’t wanted you to know because he couldn't bear to see you suffer for him the same way he was once familiar with in his senior year. Even in the end, he kept the truth locked away, shielding you from the loss he knew was coming.
The weight of his choice tore you apart. You wanted to be angry, to hate him for leaving you out, but in his silence, there was also a strange kind of love. A love that had given you a few precious, unburdened moments together. Still, the pain settled deep within you, refusing to ease.
The anger, hurt, and ache became constant companions in the days that followed. But in his absence, you began to understand just how much he’d given for you.
He'd shared with you how hard it was for him to deal with that eerie state of loss. The stage where the person isn't gone but you know you'll lose them. It alters you in a messed up kind of way and he wanted you as far from that reality as possible. He was protecting you from his own condition till the very end.
Helping his family to clear out his apartment was easily the hardest thing you'd ever done. You couldn't do it without tearing up with every belonging of his you touched.
His favourite hoodie that he never let you wear but loved when you did. The polaroids in his drawer that you took from your first date, taken from the floor of the ice rink.
You noticed he'd scribbled writing on the back of the photo.
She finally said yes.
That was all it took. The last bits of your composure were stolen from you and you wept on his bedroom floor. Everyone always told you it would get easier but it never did. How could things get easier when the other half of your heart was buried six feet below the ground?
You learned to live with the loss, forcing a smile when in the company of others and taking deep breaths every morning when you woke up. Mildly disappointed the realm beyond the living hadn't reaped you during your slumber.
Very slowly, you begin to adjust to this new reality. It’s not the life you imagined, but you learn to live with the loss, carrying him with you in the smallest, most tender ways. His favourite hoodie becomes your comfort on cold nights, wrapping you in his memory and his scent.
Just because he was gone doesn't mean you'd end all of your traditions. Each year on the fourteenth of February, you visit his grave, placing a single red rose on the stone as a quiet tribute.
Though the ache remains, you hold his spirit close, carrying him forward into every milestone and memory yet to come, honouring the love you shared while finding the strength to continue onward.
In some ways, your love story turned out to be just another cliché—until it ripped your heart out from your chest, leaving you with the unbearable ache of everything he left unsaid, every unfulfilled promise, and the haunting silence of a future that will always belong to him.
Somehow, even in the quietest, most heart-wrenching moments, you never gave up on finding the silver lining, because life’s too short.
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chococolte · 8 months ago
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Your sagau zhongli is my fave! Devotion is soooo good he's so good!! If he were offered a reward, what would he ask for? He definitely deserves good things for being such a dedicated worshipper
word count. 1.6k
୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, sagau + cult au shit, religious themes, g/n reader.
୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. hi guys......... sorry i took so long to write this, and im so happy you like my characterization of him!!!! it means so much to me!!!
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Your praise.
Zhongli has rarely ever wanted. 
When he was young, still arrogant and born of war, Zhongli didn't want— he took. He had no need of envy or desire. What he could not have, he would get in time. Immortality comes with an infinite patience. 
If he was still that god, flippant and self-important, maybe he would demand some sort of compensation. Some sort of recompense for past agony.
For as long as Zhongli's lived, he has never wanted; not in the way a mortal yearns for their lover, or the way a dog longs for its owner until it whines. Never in any way that mattered, never before he met you.
Zhongli has had eons to become used to the loneliness that so often encompasses him. And now, knowing that you breathe the same air as him, he's become rather acquainted with the ever consuming desire to nestle close to you, like ink caressing every pore of canvas. 
His desire runs through him— barking and loud, rapid and frantic— but when faced with you, a whisper, whimpering in the dark crevices of his ribs. At times, he comes close to asking you to hold him, but decorum and propriety keep him in place, tight and tense.
Liyue was built knowing your gaze followed him. Its foundations set, earth molded, and its rivers bent, hoping they would be fit to your liking. His every breath spent chasing after your favor, desiring to be remade in your image, to be exactly what you want him to be. Afraid that, when finally met with you, you will not like what you see.
Zhongli has rarely ever wanted, and rarer still, has he ever feared.
It's a mortal's fear. The fear of their lord displeased with their harvest. A boyish fear, made up of desperation and the fear of disapproval; one he shouldn't feel, one he should feel no familiarity with. One he suspects many have felt when within his own presence.
When you ask him what he would like in return for all of his efforts— a reward, you say— Zhongli feels his breath seized from him.
Zhongli lived much of his early life against you. At every opportunity, he rebelled at what he thought was a cruel god. Imperious and charged with Guizhong’s death, he would have demanded answers. 
For him to have lived while those he cared for perished without a moment's repose, for him to have survived every moment of cruel war when each breath was like a whip against his lungs— he deserved to know, if you were as real as Guizhong so staunchly believed, why he had lived in her place.
Yet, despite centuries of tempered rage, Zhongli has become content to live as nothing more than your servant. 
He tells you he wants for nothing. That all he desires now is the simplicity of being beside you; the escape of your laughter, where there's no need to concern himself with anything other than you. He tells you he only wishes to know how to take care of you better, how to align himself with your tastes and desires.
"I insist," you say, and Zhongli realizes it's a command. His mouth turns dry, and every word settles on his tongue like heavy weights, dead and still.
You stare, and his breath hitches, his heart a swell in his chest. Zhongli thinks of every answer, how your reaction to any could either breathe life into him, or leave him broken. How, for a moment, he amuses himself with the idea of asking for your touch— the cusp of your palm on his cheek, your fingers against his spine; how he could ask, and how you might favor him enough to do so. 
He then thinks of asking you for reassurance. For affirmation of forgiveness for the actions in his youth. To finally have the certainty that he hasn’t failed you, and maybe, the confirmation that you may care for him.
“Forgive me for my impropriety, Your Grace,” Zhongli begins, voice light and breathy. His hand rests on his chest, fighting the urge to dig into his skin, hoping to calm the pounding of his heart. “But… if I may, I was wondering if I had done right by you?”
You sit inertly in silence for a moment, and Zhongli wonders if it’s on purpose, some sort of punishment for daring to ask such a thing. You had no reason to reward him, and he had been blessed enough to hold your attention for longer than a moment. He had no right to ask for your thoughts, not so directly.
He thought he knew that. It was why he followed you, why he made sure your every request was completed to the highest standard. If you mentioned the taste of your tea being too bitter, or sweet, or that you’d rather he prepare something else for you entirely, he would rush to follow your word. Even if he had been the one to brew it, even if it was him who cultivated the leaves, even if he thought it would be to your liking.
All he needed was to be helpful. All he needed was you. Within you, was his salvation— within you, was love itself. Without you, the once great Lord of Geo was but a fragmented elemental wisp of energy, only ever calling your name.
A spike of adrenaline rushes through him, fear and anxiety denying any sense of hope. All he hears is the solitary sound of his heart in his ears. 
“You have only ever done good by me.”
Zhongli’s heart lurches, heat rippling through his body. You say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and his mind feels dizzy at the implication. The ground sways, and his feet feel light. 
“You deserve more than that, I think.” You step forward, and Zhongli is so lost within his own thoughts, he takes no notice of your sudden increase in proximity— but his breath still quickens, and red still coats the apples of his cheeks. 
“Kneel,” you whisper, and though you say it so softly, it's as though the sky had been torn asunder with the speed he responds. Zhongli’s mind still feels far away, but he hears your orders as if spoken directly into his ear.
He drops to his knees, no care for whether he does so elegantly enough. All he can focus on is the weight of your gaze, and the way he's the only thing under it.
“Do you want me to praise you?” You trace his jawline with your finger, still speaking in a soft, unhurried tone. “Do you want me to tell you how much of a good boy you are?”
Zhongli inhales sharply, fighting every thought that screams at him to eagerly lean into your hand. He stares up at you, russet lashes fluttering and amber eyes swallowed by adoration and worship. 
“Yes, Your Grace,” he whispers hoarsely. 
Your thumb swipes over his lower lip, and a whine rises to the back of his throat. 
“My good boy.” Zhongli’s entire body shudders, his chest heaving. A shaky breath escapes him. “You've been waiting to hear that for so long, haven't you?”
He whimpers, then nods in a way he hopes doesn’t come across as overeager— quickly bereft of any sense of propriety, or care for whether or not he’s making a fool of himself. All he can concern himself with is how close you are, how easily your scent renders him still, how quickly he borders on senseless. 
You smile at that, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from whimpering. 
“Do you want me to tell you how grateful I am?” Your fingers move across his neck, brushing against his Adam’s Apple, watching it bob as he gulps, trying to keep himself steady and not fall against you. “How you're my favorite?”
An ugly sound rips from Zhongli’s throat, and it's one he's instantly ashamed of. Every part of him feels bare in front of you, laid out messy and without decorum. The mask he’s worn for eons steadily breaks, and every one of his veins and bones scream out for your warmth. 
The Lord of Geo wouldn’t have ever allowed himself to be so vulnerable. He never would have amused himself with the thought of pleading for anything, or kneeling and falling apart because he was treated softly— least of all, of being so desperate to know that you love him; that you favor him. 
Zhongli, now without his Gnosis, is as mortal as the men he used to lord over. And perhaps it’s his newfound mortality that moves him to lean into your hand, frantically trying to meld your fingers against his skin until his flesh is like clay inlaid with your fingertips; hoping that you’ll rebuild him until he fits your desires, and tell him again that he’s proven to have done good by you. 
Every thought is a prayer, another hymn, another psalm.
“Am I? Your favorite?” 
His voice trembles, and breathes into a soft whisper. Zhongli doesn’t mean to sound so desperate— he doesn’t mean to be so greedy— but his soul has never felt so full before. His mind is so mired by your touch and voice that he doesn’t realize his lack of formality, or how he might come across as arrogant. 
He wants only to think of you, and so he does. Nothing else matters.
“Yes.” You chuckle, and his heart speeds up at the sound, fervent. “Why would I want anyone else?”
Zhongli whines, and faintly, through the blur of fanaticism and worship, thinks that no matter what you asked of him, he would do it without hesitation. 
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abislwise · 2 years ago
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harianaswhore · 1 month ago
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⟡ cₕₐᵣₗₑₛ ₗₑcₗₑᵣc ⟡
NONE OF THESE ARE WRITTEN BY ME
ᵐʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉᶜˢ ᶠ¹ ʳᵉᶜˢ
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— ᶠᴸᵁᶠᶠ ⟡
little guard - @xxblairexxss
banned - @starkwlkr
dancing in the rain - @thef1diary
you are in love - @love-belle
sleepyhead - @pucksandpower
changing lanes (^)
theories of relativity (^)
something sweet (^)
in another life (^)
made with love (^)
going once, going twice (^)
jealous!charles - @theemporium
welcome to the chalet (^)
30 more minutes - @chillielo
causal dominance - @verstappen-cult
26 birthday kisses (the cutest thing i've actually ever read) - @f1version
i saw mommy kissing santa claus - @uramakimochi
red - @champagneholland
tipsy - @uluvjay
just kidding - @sincerlyleclerc
did i do that? - @chlerc
birthday - @poetsblvd
miami hot lap - @leilakisakabiri
lipstick stain - @p8dris
early mornings - @lxclerc
ten seconds (^)
mine (^)
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— ᴬᴺᴳˢᵀ⟡
too good - @dilemmaontwolegs
all that matters (^)
world burning (tw: injury, violence, etc.) - @miirohs
écoute chérie (tw: injury, violence, etc.) (^)
world burning (tw: injury, violence, etc.) (^)
right timing (sobbed over this) - @moneymasnn
said something stupid, instead of 'i love you' (smut) - @absolutelynotmate-archive
mon ange - @leclarifies
tender is the night for a broken heart - @katiascraft
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— ˢᴹᵁᵀ⟡
true temptation - @cherry-leclerc
needy (^)
you know it - @leclsrc
playing with his nerves - @ccsainzleclerc5516
tired eyes - @sunsetchicane
inked - @pucksandpower
lessons in anatomy (suggestive) (^)
pretty songs and pretty moans - @theemporium
aphrodisiac (^)
only for you - @mickyschumacher
hands to myself (^)
shaving practice (suggetive) - @fastandcarlos
post race massage (suggetive) (^)
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— ˢᴼᶜᴵᴬᴸ ᴹᴱᴰᴵᴬ ⟡
charles' playlist - @writingstoraes
all mine (^)
biggest fan (^)
no.1 fan (^)
birthday - @absolutelynotmate-archive
obsessed - @chrisevansonly
everything ends...or does it? (^)
let me be your armour (^)
heart eyes (^)
charles' sweetheart (^)
friendship bracelets - @astonmartinii
tight knit (^)
love languages (^)
undercover verstappen (^)
oh no he's hot - @verstarppen
baby - @csainzoperator
sur le point - @f1fnatic
mystery girl - @lewisvinga
ever letting go - @hs-is-loml
three's a crowd - @poetsblvd
lover boy - @luvclerc
like a feather - @maplesyrupsainz
they don't know me like my baby (^)
hard launch (^)
newey!reader - @pucksandpower
in a different timezone - @sof1shticated
hitched - @lxclerc
every day, i dress all black - @chokamo
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— ˢᴱᴿᴵᴱˢ ⟡
everything shower smitten (smau) - @xxblairexxss
tying the knot two three (smau) - @dannyricsmirrorball
christmas in monaco two three - @everythingne
steal my girl snitches end up in ditches i'd lie (smau) - @leclerckins
via two - @eu-nicola
revenge two - @xxblairexxss
bear hugs - @lightsoutletsgo
a paddock day (smau) - @sofs16
life is a highway (lighting mcqueen!charles is everything to me) (smau) - @f1version
go for his brother two three (smau) - @il-miele-che-scrive
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snake-and-mouse · 22 days ago
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Yall think that there might be an "original" timeline that happened "first" that the Herald Viktor that saved Jayce and his mom came from? Because the logic of Viktor going back to save Jayce and give him the crystal, therefore causing them to invent hextech therefore creating himself is circular and would require lots of woowoo time travel science bullshit to not be nonsense, so that means either Jayce was Always going to get obsessed with creating magic or that originally he was supposed to be saved by a different mage, and I find the idea of baby Jayce watching his mother die and barely surviving a near death experience, which eventually leads him to obsessively searching for ways to save other people and stumbling into forbidden magical arts, more likely.
And the reason I think any of this matters is because I am SO HEARTBROKEN over the idea of a Viktor who met a damaged and traumatised orphan Jayce at the academy, and believed in him with no evidence he could be right, only for them to create the hex core together, and all the following horror together, and the reason the dead Jayce is actually kneeling isn't the same as our Jayce surrendering to Viktor hoping he could get through to him, it was because he wasn't fighting him at all and was his partner in the evolution and that Viktor still looked human because a Jayce who was helping him with his cult wouldn't have killed him and been the catalyst for his final trnsformation. And that Jayce knelt before his partner, simply accepted being consumed at the end, along with the rest of the world. And then Viktor realised the mistake they made, and made the choice to go back and save his partner from ever being that broken child who would help him end the world, out of all the events he could have changed, because he was sure that Jayce's heart was the one that could save them.
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cosmicheartz · 1 month ago
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Ok so general consensus rn is Wife/Spouse and I think I’m gonna go with that
Man that kinda makes my voice claim of him being ice king and simon petrigrov really sad
been thinking abt the fact sozo mentions someone named mimi in his prerehab thoughts and i rlly wanna do smth with it but im very stumped on what type of relationship i want them to have so im making a poll
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