#I mean. how couldn't she be afraid after all that shit. but that does not make it better or less fucked up what she did. and keeps doing)

[vaguely-concerned]

shathann fucked up in so many ways with raising taash but she also makes me. so so SO sad. welcome back deeply flawed dragon age mother figures in various shades of 'well. I mean you tried. I guess' (from 'not at all' to 'I can see what you thought you were going for at least' as appropriate) we tango once more

[emeryleewho]

Saw a fun little conversation on Threads but I don't have a Threads account, so I couldn't reply directly, but I sure can talk about it here!

I've been wanting to get into this for awhile, so here we go! First and foremost, I wanna say that "Emmaskies" here is really hitting the nail on the head despite having "no insider info". I don't want this post to be read as me shitting on trad pub editors or authors because that is fundamentally not what's happening.

Second, I want to say that this reply from Aaron Aceves is also spot on:

There are a lot of reviewers who think "I didn't enjoy this" means "no one edited this because if someone edited it, they would have made it something I like". As I talk about nonstop on this account, that is not a legitimate critique. However, as Aaron also mentions, rushed books are a thing that also happens.

As an author with 2 trad pub novels and 2 trad pub anthologies (all with HarperCollins, the 2nd largest trad publisher in the country), let me tell you that if you think books seem less edited lately, you are not making that up! It's true! Obviously, there are still a sizeable number of books that are being edited well, but something I was talking about before is that you can't really know that from picking it up. Unlike where you can generally tell an indie book will be poorly edited if the cover art is unprofessional or there are typoes all over the cover copy, trad is broken up into different departments, so even if editorial was too overworked to get a decent edit letter churned out, that doesn't mean marketing will be weak.

One person said that some publishers put more money into marketing than editorial and that's why this is happening, but I fundamentally disagree because many of these books that are getting rushed out are not getting a whole lot by way of marketing either! And I will say that I think most authors are afraid to admit if their book was rushed out or poorly edited because they don't want to sabotage their books, but guess what? I'm fucking shameless. Café Con Lychee was a rush job! That book was poorly edited! And it shows! Where Meet Cute Diary got 3 drafts from me and my beta readers, another 2 drafts with me and my agent, and then another 2 drafts with me and my editor, Café Con Lychee got a *single* concrete edit round with my editor after I turned in what was essentially a first draft. I had *three weeks* to rewrite the book before we went to copy edits. And the thing is, this wasn't my fault. I knew the book needed more work, but I wasn't allowed more time with it. My editor was so overworked, she was emailing me my edit letter at 1am. The publisher didn't care if the book was good, and then they were upset that its sales weren't as high at MCD's, but bffr. A book that doesn't live up to its potential is not going to sell at the same rate as one that does!

And this may sound like a fluke, but it's not. I'm not naming names because this is a deeply personal thing to share, but I have heard from *many* authors who were not happy with their second books. Not because they didn't love the story but because they felt so rushed either with their initial drafts or their edits that they didn't feel like it lived up to their potential. I also know of authors who demanded extra time because they knew their books weren't there yet only to face big backlash from their publisher or agent.

I literally cannot stress to you enough that publisher's *do not give a fuck* about how good their products are. If they can trick you into buying a poorly edited book with an AI cover that they undercut the author for, that is *better* than wasting time and money paying authors and editors to put together a quality product. And that's before we get into the blatant abuse that happens at these publishers and why there have been mass exoduses from Big 5 publishers lately.

There's also a problem where publishers do not value their experienced staff. They're laying off so many skilled, dedicated, long-term committed editors like their work never meant anything. And as someone who did freelance sensitivity reading for the Big 5, I can tell you that the way they treat freelancers is *also* abysmal. I was almost always given half the time I asked for and paid at less than *half* of my general going rate. Authors publishing out of their own pockets could afford my rate, but apparently multi-billion dollar corporations couldn't. Copy edits and proofreads are often handled by freelancers, meaning these are people who aren't familiar with the author's voice and often give feedback that doesn't account for that, plus they're not people who are gonna be as invested in the book, even before the bad payment and ridiculous timelines.

So, anyway, 1. go easy on authors and editors when you can. Most of us have 0 say in being in this position and authors who are in breech of their contract by refusing to turn in a book on time can face major legal and financial ramifications. 2. Know that this isn't in your head. If you disagree with the choices a book makes, that's probably just a disagreement, but if you feel like it had so much potential but just *didn't reach it*, that's likely because the author didn't have time to revise it or the editor didn't have time to give the sort of thorough edits it needed. 3. READ INDIE!!! Find the indie authors putting in the work the Big 5's won't do and support them! Stop counting on exploitative mega-corporations to do work they have no intention of doing.

Finally, to all my readers who read Café Con Lychee and loved it, thank you. I love y'all, and I appreciate y'all, and I really wish I'd been given the chance to give y'all the book you deserved. I hope I can make it up to you in 2025.

[astralnymphh]

jackson!ellie falling for the girl with spectacular music taste. what does she think when passing by your open window? shit, is that the sick habit? rad. but it has trickled into a myriad of genres, now having an eclectic accumulation of records thanks to you, and your midday music sessions. on patrol, she thinks about you. in those abandoned record stores, she thinks—and dedicates time to you, fitting a couple inside her backpack she had graciously made room for. either to listen to them while daydreaming in psychedelic hues, or to give them to dina so she can deliver them to you. darkening your doorstep unannounced feels a bit invasive, and besides, you know dina way better than ellie knows you. confrontations are daunting; what would she even say?

she had no time to figure, since dina—in all her matchmaking glory—thought getting ellie out of her garage for something besides patrol duties for a change, and into your place, would ease her up to you. the path that leads there is precipiced, crowded with nerves. her cheeks are lovingly dimpled when you nudge her in the shoulder. “you never told me you play guitar!” ellie never expected you to be the epitome of romance poetry: all smiles, warming up in no time, so punctual in the eyes, she wonders what details you like about her. “u-uh, yeah. not too serious about it though,” she humbles herself. hand concealed behind her head.

yet, of course, dina never lets ellie be so soft-spoken. “come on! nobody, who isn't serious about music, writes their own songs. play something for us!” nudging with her voice from across the room.

ellie so badly wanted to punch her friend in the shoulder then. god, she shuddered at the encouragement. but, she couldn't deny you; when it was you, handing her the guitar long forgotten about from your closet, she had to indulge with a soft smile. thereon, when ellie was consumingly focused on tuning that hollow body of wood, she missed all your subtle stares of her face, or her freckled hands, whatever intrigued you to contemplate. after she played one of your favorites—receiving compliments from you for even knowing that song—you had to tell her all about your introspects. fortuitously, dina left by then.

“you're really good at it,” you said, gentler than the music of wind, with your head in her criss-crossed lap, and satin-shine eyes locking hers. anyone could tell she has been waiting for something as transient and calming as this. “you should write me a song, hm?” laying her palms on your face so delicately, afraid this moment could shatter. “would love t—i mean, yeah. sure.” still doesn't even know what to say!

the moment lives forever in the song she wrote that following night. it had to be captured; you need to know how much she fucking cherishes it.

this was meant to just be a little something something but i turned it into something i'd cry to. #kms.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

"forgive me one last time" ft. the monster trio!

headcanons of highschool!au monster trio as your boyfriend begging for forgiveness after fucking shit up :) m.list

luffy:

- "yn" he mumbles, trailing after you in the hallways "stop trailing me" you hiss as you open the locker, shoving the books inside and taking out another "yn" his hands are wrapping around your waist, his neck finding home in the crook of your neck and he's whining again, "please forgive me, pretty please?" - it wasn't even like you got mad often tbh; dating luffy meant he is gonna do stupid shit and you're gonna have to deal with it but there was a limit to stupid shit too - you shove his head away from your neck, "romilda fuckin' asked you, "wanna go watch a movie??" and you said yes. how can you say yes to a date while you have a girlfriend?! do i mean nothing?!" "i didn't know it was a date!!" his hands are wrapping around you tighter, "i thought she was lonely and wanted to hangout with a friend!! you know i wouldn't have said yes otherwise ynnn~" "are you an id-" you huff, "i'm getting late for class, get off" you forgave his dumbassery on the regular but come on, now its insane - yeah you didn't forgive him - not until you came back to keep your books and take new ones for the next period and saw giant "i miss you" and "sorry" glittery stickers plastered onto your locker (did he steal those from a 3rd grader? youre not sure) - you huffed, opening the locker - your jaw went slack - the entire locker was full of your favourites. your favourite candy, the cookies sanji always makes during christmas (how did he get those rn??), your favourite soda and flowers - how did he manage all that in the time span of one period??? - at the side is a note in a scrawly handwriting, "you wanna go watch a movie with me? (asking you for a date, not as a friend who wants to hangout) boyfriend :)" - you ended up forgiving him only after he bought he a bucket of popcorn and kissed you during the end credits of the movie - he also had to buy you dinner from the baratie like a gentleman.

zoro:

- "zo," you huff, "it's like the thousandth time, ofcourse im gonna be fucking mad at you!" "i know" he groans, "i really know, but i'm sorry, please" "no. you can't keep saying you'd show up for my events and then fuckin' disappear like always!" - you're fighting in hushed whispers in the hallway, you didn't wanna cause a scene because you know how bad zoro finds public attention - you know he's busy training, busy with his friends and you know he loves you but a part of you wonders if he simply doesn't actually love you - he constantly fails to show up at your events, he has never outright called you his girlfriend in front of people who weren't his close friends and he has never even held your hand in public because he says pda makes him uncomfortable - you got him but it simply sounds like he's afraid to admit you both are together - "are you not happy with me?" your voice is breaking, crumbling into silent heaves, "do not lo-" "what?" his hands find yours, "no, ofcourse not. baby, i just had another practice and dad (mihawk) called me back home. im sorry, i couldn't say no to him" "i know b-" - he kisses you - in the middle of the fucking hallway, with other people around - he does it. that bastard. - his hands are tucking your hair behind your ear, resting softly on your cheek as he tip you backwards and kisses you till you cannot possibly breath "i love you" he says loud enough so that anybody within earshot could hear, flashing you a small smile his voice comes down to a whisper, "i'm sorry i suck at being a good boyfriend, i will get better okay?" - he follows through on that promise because the next time, he is standing at your event with a tshirt just reading "yn is the coolest" and a small, stupid smile on his face "was the tshirt necessary?" "yes" - ugh i love soft zoro

sanji:

- sanji had a (bad) habit of always backing you up - one might wonder what's bad about that but when he almost beat the shit out of a random guy for saying he didn't like your vibes - "sanji!" you pull him away, eyes widening, "stop it" "but yn" "you cannot keep doing this! you cannot keep fucking putting up a fight against anybody who doesn't like me-" "yes i can" "sanji." - it ended up leading to a fight and you stormed off into the class - you expected sanji to come apologize the very next period or atleast text you or something - but nothing. you didn't see him for the rest of the day. - not until it was 9 pm and all of a sudden, a cheesy pop song was playing outside your window and in your front lawn stood a drenched, blonde guy holding up a boombox and a giant wet, white sheet reading "FORGIVE ME YN IM SORRY PLEASE I LOVE YOU" - first of all why was he drenched? it wasn't even fucking raining - that brings your attention to his two best friends, luffy and zoro holding a hose at him from a distance (luffy is giggling, he's having the time of his life, zoro looks like he hates being alive) - "sanji why are STANDING IN FRONT OF WATER?!" "SO THAT YOU FORGIVE ME, MY LOVE IM SORRY" "YOU'D CATCH A COLD, COME INSIDE IDIOT!!" - well, he did bring a box full of home-made chocolate though, so you cannot be mad at him for long - did this event stop him from being a bit over-bearing? no, not really but eh, that's sanji for ya

a/n: cutesy little headcanon lol thankyou so much @scentisterror for helping me with this <3<3 m.list

[xxoxobree]

Mean Sometimes

Miles G x Black!Fem!Reader

Summary: Miles can be mean sometimes, even if he doesn’t mean harm.

WARNINGS: Cuss words cause 🤷🏽‍♀️

A/n: This is for my black girlies 🤣 y’all are definitely gonna relate to this , Also that is a real picture of Miles G that I took we in E42 chillin 🫢.

Miles was famous all over school for his blunt and straightforward attitude. He had a rep for never beating around the bush and always blurting out whatever came to mind, no matter how crazy it sounded.

His lack of filter had landed him in hot water a few times, but he remained himself , because he “can handle it if anyone got a problem”. Despite his bluntness, when it came to you, his "princesa," he would soften his edges.

Picture day was tomorrow ,and then came the most soul-crushing message from your hairstylist.

"Hey there, hun," she began, delivering the blow. She was canceling. Your heart sank as you absorbed the words on the screen.

"Please, please don't cancel," you silently pleaded, desperately typing out your response. But deep down, you knew it was pointless . And just as you feared, the it happened.

"I'm truly sorry, but we have to cancel and find another time to reschedule," her message read.

"No no no!" You said out loud, throwing your head back in frustration. You rested your phone down, afraid that your anger might make you throw it across the room.

"Oh my fucking gosh!" Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You got up and made your way to sit in front of your vanity.

You released your hair from the ponytail it was in, grabbed your comb, blowdryer, and a flat iron, and got to work. You had to make something work.

As you sat in front of the mirror, you began the process. 15 minutes went by, but it was not going well. You burned yourself several times with the flat iron, causing more frustration and anxiety to bubble within you, but you refused to give up.

Your hair was frizzy and unruly, but in your eyes, it was looking pretty good.

Miles, had decided to stop by after realizing you hadn't been responding to any of his messages or calls. Concern etched across his face, he knocked on your bedroom door before stepping inside.

"Miles? Why are you here?" you asked, your voice laced with annoyance as you continued to fix your hair, leaning against the vanity. The frustration in your eyes was hard to miss, and he knew all too well what it meant. Your attitude had been activated.

With a small sigh, Miles approached you,leaning on the vanity. "I was worried about you," he said. matching your attitude "You weren't answering any of my messages or calls. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

Rolling your eyes, you paused your hair-fixing efforts and looked at him, your frown deepening. "Miles, I'm trying to fix my hair.” you snapped.

"He gave your hair a look, furrowing his eyebrows. “Yo shit look like you got electrocuted.”

His words stung, and you couldn't hide the disappointment in your eyes. "Why'd you say it like that?" you whined, feeling a lump forming in your throat.

"I'm just saying, mama," he responded casually, not fully understanding the impact of his words.

"Well, does it look bad?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

"It does... yeah," Miles admitted, unaware that you were at your wits end.

"Oh, my fucking gadddddd..." The words slipped out as you threw your brush across the room in frustration. Tears welled up in your eyes, and your face flushed with anger and hurt. "You're so fucking mean sometimes, Miles," you shouted, flopping onto your bed and curling up, facing away from him.

Miles could hear your sniffles from across the room, guilt shot through his body. He took a deep breath and pushed himself off the vanity, his feet carrying him towards the bed where you sat, shoulders slumped.

"Ma!" he called out, hoping for a response but you stayed silent. "Baby, I'm sorry, okay?" he pleaded.

"You can take your sorry and get the fuck out," you whispered , your voice dripping with hurt and frustration.

Miles sighed again "Baby, I didn't mean that. You know how I am,"

"How you are is rude as fuck," you shot back, the pain still in your tone.

Miles climbed into the bed beside you, his body pressing against yours. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his voice muffled by the closeness. "I'm sorry, princessa," he murmured, the warmth of his breath causing a shiver to run down your spine. "How about I help you fix your hair?…….you smell sooo good.”

"Shut up, stupid," you whispered, a smile spreading at the corners of your lips. "And move so you can help me."

Copyright © 2023 Breeandhermunches. All rights reserved.

[egg-but-with-style]

HEADCANONS WITH THE BOYSSSS!!!!

My last post did pretty well, and if people like it, I figured I might as well try my hand at some more!!!!

Gaz

This guy literally has the best skin in the world, it's like looking at something carved from marble, everytime you ask about his skincare routine, he just says genetics.

He detests anything made with cinnamon, his older sister once made him try a pie she made, and by the time he was done eating it, he was literally coughing up cinnamon. Didn't say anything though, couldn't be mean to his sister like that.

HE CANNOT SIT STILL!! Gaz and soap are literally the most energetic people on base. Except Price finds Gaz charming and soap less so...

Also I for some reason think he smells like oranges and mangos???

(edited after I saw a tiktok about climate change) GAZ IS SUPER VOCAL ABOUT CLIMATE CHANGE, all of the boys care to some degree (get it?) but Gaz brings hard facts and evidence everytime he talks about it, Price is now worried for Gaz's mental health

Price

Where to start? Maybe with the fact he has duplicates of his hats he keeps in his office drawer. Ghost went in there one time to give Price a report and saw Price open his Hat Drawer. Ghost had never seen so many hats

If some of y'all didn't know, if you have a low tolerance to cigars and breathe in too much of the smoke, you'll get sick. So, Price keeps a puking trash can just for the people that come into his office. Is he gonna stop smoking to prevent people from losing their lunch? Never.

When he's not on duty he wears the stupid Hawaiian shirts that middle aged dads wear on vacation. Also cargo shorts. Cause they're tactical

Soap

Again, he cannot sit still. He'll wake up in the middle of the night and you'll find him in the armory tinkering with an explosive, and even then he gets up every couple minutes just to pace around

He is very meticulous about his hair. Every morning he wakes up just a little bit earlier then everyone else and hair gels that baby into place. It does not move. It could probably be as effective as a military grade helmet at that point.

THIS MAN DRAWS PORN AND POSTS IT ON TWITTER!!! He uses an alias of course, and a very well hidden drawing tablet when he's on duty. Just ignore the fact that alot of the men he draws look just a tad bit like ghost. Just a little.

Also, while all of the COD men love a woman (or man) with meat on their bones, soap is feral. Chubby chaser all the way. There's also something really hot about a person being around his height and not taking his shit.

Ghost

He has horrible acne under that mask. It's actually awful how much he goes through just to keep it on. He's done skincare, moisturizing, pimple patches, everything, and nothing work. The worst part is, he thinks the mask is so cool it's worth it

This man is an actual dork. (Idea by @ghouljams) this guy definitely makes those little miniatures. The little details he puts into every bit of his work, whether it's wood grain, the look of water, he just does it all with such skill. The plus side is that it keeps his brain at bay, not thinking and more focused on what's in front of him. He also likes DND. Go figure.

I also do like the idea of trans ghost. He understands what it was like before he transitioned and feeling ashamed of his size when he used to be forced into the stereotype of what a woman should look like. So when people fuck with you about your size, he's right behind you like he's gonna kill them.

Authors note: the only thing I'm afraid of as I start writing is 1. The fan fic author curse, and 2. People actually paying attention to me, my anxiety is gonna kill me, lol. Anyway, hope y'all are having a great day!!! Bye!!!

[crossdressingdeath]

I finally figured out why Vivienne rubs me the wrong way. To paraphrase she is a lottery winner telling the underpaid workers that capitalism works.

As throughout the Dragon Age series we see how circle fails mages (In Orgins there is books about blood magic in hopes of catching desperate mage in the act of a crime, Awakenings the templars setting a entrapment for Anders despite being a grey warden and then there is Kirkwall).

Then in the game in which mage independence is a big issue our only circle mage perspection that is a main character is Vivienne who is fine with the current system. As Vivienne will tell us the player that while the system has flaws overall is fine. Which is really ridiculous considering the last game.

What Dragon Age Inquisition needed was a Kirkwall mage who saw the worst of the circles to be a counter argument that the circles are flawed

And what I mean by Vivienne being a lottery winner is that her position is almost a miracle. As while a young mage in the circle she had to be powerful enough to be allowed to do her harrowing but also not too powerful to make the templars afraid (as I believe it is implied that mages that are too powerful are nipped in the bud in Orgins), then in a party she is charming enough that a noble takes a fancy to her which then allows her to charm the Empress and gain political power.

All of these aspects feels like sheer luck. So when Vivienne tells me the circle works I want to eat my face in frustration as I remember Jowan and Anders and Hawke's parents desperately trying not to be in the circle.

(Sorry for the rant)

I think Vivienne is ultimately a very notable victim of a lot of DAI's poor writing choices. Both in terms of character writing and in terms of the overall themes.

See, DAI doesn't want us to get any perspective that doesn't prop up the Circle and the Chantry. It doesn't want us questioning the necessity of either institution. It's not just Vivienne; think back on the mage characters we see in DAI, the ones that aren't in the Circle mostly just don't talk about it. Not even Quiz, and if Quiz tries to argue that the Circles aren't great the Circle mages go "Well you're wrong because it was great for me" and Quiz isn't allowed to say anything back. See also Minaeve going "Well the Dalish are shit and the Circle is great because the Dalish threw me away and the Templars rescued me and that doesn't contradict anything in the preexisting lore and also it definitely doesn't say anything about the Chantry that my clan couldn't support an additional mage in their life on the run and also I'm just going to blindly assume the Tempalrs were telling the truth" while Lavellan is forced to just stand there, smiling and nodding and not arguing back at all even though they logically would. DAI needed a counterargument to the "Circles are good" argument, it needed a character who'd seen the worst they had to offer, but we were never going to get that because DAI didn't want it to be a debate. It wants us to blindly agree that the Circles are good and mages wanting freedom is bad. Which is a wildly stupid decision but someone made it anyway!

DAI also does not like character growth. Not in the slightest. The most DAI's companions get is their character growth popping in all at once in Trespasser after a full game of them being completely static. Just like how Sera refuses to acknowledge how awful she's being to Lavellan until Trespasser where she suddenly asks how they're feeling about the Evanuris stuff without using it to make them feel like there's something wrong with them for having non-Andrastian beliefs or how Dorian defends slavery and then that's quietly never acknowledged again until he mentions in Tevinter Nights that "someone he met in the south" changed his mind on the subject or how Cullen... is Cullen, you're never allowed to challenge Vivienne on her beliefs because if you did that then she might change and grow as a person and DAI does not want to deal with that. Especially not when challenging Vivienne means challenging the argument that the Circles are The Best Option. Poor Vivienne gets hit hard by DAI's refusal to accept that the Chantry's bad and the fandom does not want to side with them, she's probably the single biggest piece of collateral damage to DAI's bad choices.

And the thing is it's not that Vivienne doesn't know she's lucky! It's not that she doesn't know the Circles fail people! She recognizes there's a lot of flaws, and she does genuinely want to improve things for her fellow mages! Her intentions are good! Plus honestly if you work to get her approval up she's actually one of the better companions in terms of how she treats Quiz (seriously, look at some of her high approval conversations, she cares so damn much) and she'll defend even companions she doesn't like from unjust attacks (she's got a very good banter with romanced Dorian about how she got a letter from a magister she knows somehow about how disgusting Dorian and Quiz's relationship is and basically told him to fuck off with that). Vivienne really does care and really does want to make things better, she's just been so poisoned by her life in a world very heavily controlled by the Chantry and the Templars that she can't see past their way of doing things. The problem isn't that she doesn't see how lucky she is; she knows she got a lucky break that a lot of mages don't get (although it's important to note that she didn't just get lucky, Vivienne absolutely worked her ass off to get to where she is), and she knows that not everyone could get to where she is even if they'd gotten as lucky as she did. What she misses is that you need to be insanely lucky just to be more or less content in the Circle, never mind happy or powerful. Lucky enough to escape the worst of the Templars' abuses, lucky enough to be in a decent Circle, lucky enough not to be too weak or too powerful, lucky enough to get a manageable demon in your Harrowing, lucky enough to be the sort of person who won't be completely miserable trapped in one building your whole life... The thing Vivienne misses is that she got out, she doesn't have to spend her whole life in the Circle praying the Templars are good to her, and that's not an opportunity a lot of mages get no matter how smart or skilled they are. It drives me nuts, because if we were just allowed to push her to see that her story would immediately be so much better. As it is it's a lot of potential and a strong start that never really get paid off.

[iheartpeppino]

Here's what I think the Pizza Tower cast thinks of Maurice Spaghetti...

Peppino: The poor guy can't stand Maurice. He's one of the biggest reasons Peppino doesn't come home for Christmas anymore. After putting up with his abuse for years, Peppino is just... tired of Maurice. He's tired of arguing. He just says, "I know," to every horrible thing his brother says about him. And the worst part is, Maurice seems to invite himself into Peppino's life whenever he least expects or wants it. This is because Maurice is such an asshole he literally has no friends and relies on Peppino for company.

Gustavo: He also can't stand Maurice. He HATES him, actually. Gustavo really cares about Peppino, so the fact his own brother treats him like shit infuriates him. He has threatened to kill Maurice before (remember Gustavo's catchphrase?), so Maurice is (rightfully) afraid of Gustavo.

Brick: Our rat buddy can smell a bad egg a mile away. He does NOT like Maurice and will hiss at him whenever he appears. Maurice claims that Brick is "the second-biggest rat [he's] ever seen", so he's... a little unnerved by the sight of him.

Mr. Stick: He hasn't met Maurice yet, but I guarantee you if he DID, he'd try to scam him out of a lot of money and would likely succeed. Cue Maurice crashing with Peppino until he can get his house back. Peppino is miserable and not amused by any of this.

Pepperman: Met Maurice during filming of The Noise's "Swap Mode" movie. Pepperman thinks Maurice is really unpleasant to deal with due to his negative attitude and close-minded outlook. Even a pseudo-intellectual like Pepperman runs circles around Maurice intellectually, which the pepper is happy to do, much to Maurice's frustration.

The Vigilante: Met Maurice during filming of The Noise's "Swap Mode" movie. He does NOT like him. He actually feels bad for Peppino; it must truly suck to have such an immoral piece of cow dung for a family member. Apparently the guy conned his own granny out of thousands of dollars! The Vigilante keeps a very close eye on Maurice the whole time they're around each other. Maurice feels his sins crawling on his back the whole time.

The Noise: He's generally neutral towards Maurice. He thinks all the mean things Maurice says about Peppino are funny. It's when Maurice starts spouting racist rhetoric he's like, "DUDE" and rendered completely speechless because... well, he's never heard Peppino talk like that, so where'd his fucking brother get it from!? Anyway... The Noise only hangs around Maurice if he needs him for something, like annoying Peppino. Maurice has tried befriending The Noise, inviting him to hang out, but The Noise isn't interested in being friends with a racist prick. He does, however, want to remain on Maurice's good side in case he needs him, so he just makes up excuses about being too busy.

Noisette: Noisette is not the kind of person who hates people easily. She tries to see the good in everyone. However, she sees no good in Maurice. She hates him, openly, and without regret. She hates the mean things he says about Peppino. All the bigoted, ignorant blather he spews. How he once assaulted an innocent laundromat worker and called her a bitch just because she told him he couldn't pay to do laundry using nickels. Noisette growls like a rabid dog whenever Maurice is around. Maurice is (rightfully) terrified of Noisette...

Fake Peppino: Our favorite frog man met Maurice during filming The Noise's "Swap Mode" movie... he doesn't like him at all. Maurice is loud, mean, and generally unpleasant. When they were filming Swap Mode's Fake Peppino boss fight, Fake Peppino actually tried to kill Maurice. The Noise had to step in and scare Fake Peppino off. Fake Peppino had to pretend he was simply getting a little too into his role instead of trying to actively hunt down Maurice. Playing dumb. Playing pretend... and sneaking a hiss or growl in Maurice's direction when no one else is looking. Maurice is absolutely terrified.

Pizzahead: Met Maurice during the "Swap Mode" movie. Holy mozzarella sticks, this schmuck is Peppino's brother!? And he... bullies Peppino? WHAT THE FUCK, THAT'S HIS JOB!! Pizzahead acts polite and even friendly towards Maurice at first, but as soon as they're alone together, he very calmly threatens Maurice's life, telling him to leave Peppino alone or else, all with a big, unnerving smile on his face. Maurice practically pisses himself in fear as he's forced to agree... for now...

Pillar John: Met Maurice during filming of "Swap Mode". Decided he absolutely did not like him, judging him for every hateful word that came out of his mouth. Fortunately, Maurice is so terrified of Pillar John's sheer size and strength, he doesn't pull his usual bullshit with the big guy.

Gerome: Met Maurice during filming of "Swap Mode". Gerome doesn't like Maurice at all, but he's not too bothered by his presence. In fact, he completely manages to ignore him. Maurice is insulted, but he's not about to talk shit about Pillar John's brother...

[dalekofchaos]

The bastardization of Life Is Strange

I thought things couldn't get worse than the D9 Predatory business practices, toxic work environment, rampant misogyny, homophobia, transphobia and protecting a fucking Nazi Expose.(this apparently wasn't the red line for some folks and still insisted on buying the game anyway)

Well, it's not worse than that, but now?

The entire game has been leaked.

You can't make this up.

They made Life Is Strange, a Indie developer's passion project into MCU Lite.

Safi is a shapeshifter and the final choice in Double Exposure is "will you join forces with Safi" and Max joins the dark side or some stupid shit like that. Or refuse like the Max Caulfield I know would actually fucking do. Who wrote this fucking shit???

“i'm going to find other people like us, max, people with powers. i spent my whole life thinking i was the only one, knowing i could never tell anyone because they would look at me like THAT. but now there's you. you... and me... time traveler and a shapeshifter”

literally why is there even an option to side with her in the first place, she's clearly out of her mind, if there ever was a "morally bad and morally good decision" like d9 wants to assign to the endings of lis1, THIS WOULD BE THAT what a crock of shit.

How did Life is Strange go from melancholic, artsy slice of life to fucking Avengers? HOW!?

at the end max gets a nightmare just like in LIS 1

Texts are assumed to be apart of the nightmare

Silver lining. One final Chloe message after alienating the core fanbase and D9 think scraps will make up for it?

In hindsight.....they warned us what they were planning.

Dude took the "Elsa join the X-Men" meme a little too serious and literal.

But wait, it gets worse.

....I FUCKING APOLOGIZE. I once dreamed of all the protagonists coming together. But not like this. NOT FUCKING LIKE THIS!

BUT WAIT. IT GETS FUCKING WORSE!!!

Life Is Strange going from one studios passion project to the fucking Avengers is the biggest fall of grace I've ever seen.

There was a charm, chemistry and likability of the original game.

It was never about a character having superpowers. It was about finding oneself in the world, friendship, love, tragedy and making the hard choice. LIS 2 is about brotherhood, family and learning to make the best possible choice to give your brother the best life. TC is about trauma, family, finding a better life, corruption. It was never about the powers. That was a background noise and a small part of the overall story.

You know, the worst part of all this is that Hannah Telle sold her principals and credibility for DE.

Thinking about things better and from certain comments I've read about her, such as the nervous breakdown, it leads me to believe that Hannah is a hypocrite just because she's nervous.

Think about it: early 2016 she says she likes Grahamfield. But in 2018 for Farewell she says she likes Pricefield and her favorite ending is Bae because she knows Max couldn't live without Chloe (and Farewell made her come to that conclusion) and now saying she couldn't think of anyone else doing Max... dude... better say you need the money, and you didn't want to deal with the angry fandom and that's why you changed ships.

It bothers me (or rather I see it as hypocritical) that they say "nobody bothers Hannah, poor thing" poor thing? But she accept all that! She's accepting not even saying "Chloe" in interviews anymore. Poor thing, why? I mean, they can attack the other AVs but not Hannah? What the hell privileges does she get when NO ONE DESERVES to be harassed. Damn, even Max's Japanese AV is afraid of being harassed when she goes to play DE!

At least Ashly Burch has some principals. She knows her worth and when the direction of the story is shit. She stands up for her fellow VA and the only reason BTS was remotely successful is because she was a story consultant and Farewell because she stood up gor her fellow SAG VAs.

Ashly even said that she prefers Bay and sees Chloe more with Rachel. And there she is, living with her principles. It makes me think that if Hannah accepted the whole DE disaster, it's because she agrees that Max is like that and she liked everything and that to me is worse, that Hannah sees the complete bastardization of Max Caulfield and Life Is Strange as a whole and went "yes, this is the complete direction I can see for Max and I completely accept this superficial soulless garbage, why no I am not a complete and utter hypocritical sellout".

I take back what I said about the Pricefield breakup being realistic because it was done out of malice to hurt Ashly Burch for standing up for herself and having an ounce of self-respect and principals and alienate Chloe's fans. Fuck SE and fuck D9.

Anyways I stick with my headcanons.

Post-Bay. Max and Warren are successful Photojournalist and Science Professor, married and living their best lives while keeping in touch with their friends from Arcadia and visiting Chloe's grave on her birthday and the anniversary of her death.

Post-Bae. Time shenanigans happen which results in Max saving Rachel and because of saving Rachel she saves Chloe and Arcadia Bay. Max, Chloe and Rachel ride off in the rainbow and get their happy ending. Max is a successful Photojournalist, Chloe is a mechanic and owns her own Tattoo Parlor and Rachel fulfills her dream as an actress and model. They often visit Arcadia to visit old friends, run into Alex and Steph, even join their band for a few gigs and are just living their best lives.

[deafsignifcantother]

if music be the food of love, chapter 7

♥ here you go lovies, it’s series time | chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter eight ♥ summary: some crazy shit happens and she loses her mind and goes to people for advice who say drastically different things so she has to decide for herself what to feel. ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (queerplatonic to romance) ♥ word count: 3.3k ♥ pinterest board ♥ notes: she's on artfight, "compassion literally means “to suffer together.”", Alastor is only in this for one scene ♥ no tag list rn :3

Alastor leans against the kitchen's countertop, his ankles crossed, his hand covering his lips in thought. He's staring down at a notebook, his hand-made cookbook, seeming to be flipping through the pages and searching through it, looking for something in particular. You don't know why he wants you to sit with him through it.

He scans the pages for a moment before his smile grows.

You wave to get his attention. “What are you making now? Something new?”

You don’t try to glance at his cookbook for the answer, but he still moves the cookbook further away before responding.

"Yes, I suppose it is something new."

Which doesn't fulfill your attempts at conversation.

"Were you a cook and a radio host, or is it just a passion?"

He chuckles, looking away from the cookbook to spare a glance. He keeps an elbow on the pages to prop it open. From that angle, you can't see the blank pages.

“Oh, well, it certainly wasn’t my job back when I was alive. It's a passion, and it has been for a long time.” He closes the cookbook and sits it down on the countertop.

“Believe you need any help?”

You pray he'd say no.

"You'd like to help me, darling? Well, feel free to, if you'd like."

If you'd like. If you'd like. If you'd like.

It's not a yes or a no.

But he adds on. "You've always had people cook for you, haven't you, love?"

When you were alive, you had servants to do that for you, and the amount of food would take up an entire table, even if it went uneaten. Having a home-styled meal for two was beyond your comprehension before you met Alastor.

“The more the decades go by the more embarrassing that gets.”

"Oh, trust me, darling, I find it quite endearing."

“What does that mean?” The tension in your face surprises you. You are scowling; you haven't scowled at Alastor before. He doesn't seem to mind. You're not ready to let Zestial's advice go. You wanted to keep the words to yourself. If an expert like Alastor caught on to the fact that you both were talking about him, in a desperate way as well, he'd chase for the context in a heartbeat.

All he does is stare at you with untroubled eyes and open the drawer next to you, revealing herbs and spices you couldn't even name. "It means you've probably never seen anything like these before?"

“A drawer?” You sign. The smile on his face humbles you; his eyes are so gentle when he looks at you, even when he's looking down at you. “You really keep spices in a drawer?”

"I'm afraid most people do."

You reach and open the drawer on the other side of you. Cutlery all lined up. After the initial surprise that the ladles and whisks are not held in a vase, you smile a bit. You look up at him. “Are you the one keeping these organized?”

"You caught me."

"How long have you been cooking here?"

He tilts his head upwards. You notice his stillness. He still needs to move to start cooking or even face the stove. He's standing, his body facing you, giving you his full attention. "Only once. Just the other day, if I remember correctly. Cooking you breakfast was the first time I stepped in here."

He turns to the side, just staring at himself in the refrigerator's reflection while straightening his bowtie. You think about the time he's done it in a high-stress situation, where he's found himself a reflective surface to stare at himself in. His fingers will find somewhere to go, usually his outfit, finding a way to distract himself and remove himself from whatever confrontation he finds himself in. It gives you time to think of a response.

His eyes reach you before he turns his head.

“Fascinating.” You lean back with a smile. “I must be quite special then.”

"Oh, you cheeky girl. Do you really think that you're that special?”

The way he rests his hip on the counter, his shoulders relaxed, and his benign smile twists your head into a fantasy.

"I certainly do. Wouldn't you agree?"

His eyes look over you closely and intently before lifting his hands. "Oh, darling, you're quite special to me, I can say that much, at least. You know why, love?"

“Why?” You muse, placing your hands on your knees, trying not to have your playful smile grow into a flirtatious one.

He chuckles softly again at your response, your eyes endearing, the music from your heart making his beat faster. You're giving him the most childish smile he's seen from any overlord on this side of the pentagram. You're so precious that he just wants to put his hands on either side of your head and squish it until it implodes. He'd give anything to have the chance to tear you open and crawl inside you forever.

"Oh, darling, the answer is quite simple really. You're special to me because I happen to love you quite a lot."

Your breath stops in your throat; you're sure it makes an audible sound. Your body is still. You always thought that in a moment like this, your hands would clench my dress, your jaw would tighten, and your eyes would widen. But none of that happened. Your body is still, too motionless to reply. This must be a test. Are you supposed to laugh it off?

This reaction is enough to amuse him. Would any cover-up even work?

After a few beats of silence, your stiff hands lift. “That’s quite delightful to hear from somebody like you.”

He hums in approval, his smirk only widening as he looks at every detail of your face. He catches the way that your pupils seem to stop and freeze completely, like a statue, until you release the breath you were holding and lighten up. He saw how those words seemed to catch you off-guard, how they shocked you.

He watches you intently for a few beats, no response coming from him.

Silence.

Are you supposed to break it? It reminds you of those old interrogation tactics, and damn do they work. Your fingers twitch, but I quickly decide against saying anything, wanting a witty response from him to end the tension.

It is delightful for him to see you struggling like this.

He enjoys how easily he can fluster you and how you melt at his every ounce of affection. Hare help but smile a bit in amusement as he watched the uncertainty on your face.

“Focus on your cooking.” You sign, smiling wide, trying to control your face to stop your eyes from watering. “You haven't even started.”

He glances behind him, only with his neck, while his body refuses to move away from you. "Oh, really? I suppose you're right!"

“I can just leave if it’ll make the meal finish quicker,” you say without moving to stand. A wave of nausea reaches you, one that makes your stomach turn and your skull ache. You want to pull at your hair from the strands and scream.

"Well, if you think it'll help the cooking process go by quicker, then by all means, leave."

That's all you need to see. Alaster's eyes barely graze yours, but his smile remains as wide as ever. With a curtsey, you say a goodbye, “It better be the best meal I’ve ever had.”

The walk from the kitchen to the bar lasts for miles. In that (actually very short) time, your vulnerability formed into anger. How dare he mess with you like that. Who does he think he is, bringing you here just to disorder your life? He's been gone for an eternity, and now he trots back to give you a second death.

“Husk.” He's never seen you walk faster. It's almost a jog. What scares him most is how you addressed him using your voice.

You go back to signing. “Alastor is fucking with me and I’m on the verge of strangling him alive.”

He raises an eyebrow, a little concerned at the look in your eyes but also amused at how irked you look. He chuckles a little and pours some whiskey into a glass, taking his time before putting it down and signing.

"I didn't think I'd see the day you'd actually threaten him- what did he do?" For a second, his fingers linger on the word 'now,' but there isn't a moment in his memory where Alastor has done you wrong.

He glances behind you, and you see nothing when you follow his gaze. You even do a double-take just to make sure.

“He told me he loved me.” You slam your hand on the counter for emphasis, eyebrows raised and smile crooked. “Can you believe that?”

He takes a long sip of his drink and looks at you. Then, he laughs. It's a short one that only bounces his shoulders for a few seconds.

"Don't worry, I seriously doubt he really means it. That guy is about as loving as a cactus. It's all just part of his obnoxious theatre routine."

“Exactly, he’s just trying to see my reaction and I gave him what he wanted by freezing up. This is so embarrassing.” Your hands dig into your hair before you tug on it, trying to pull the headache from your skull.

"Relax, birdy. You're not the first person Alastor's done this to. Just ignore him and he'll eventually get bored and move on to something else."

I want everything but that.

This is the worst advice you've ever received. Husk sees only the worst in Alastor and knows him only for his lies and brutalities. But there's one thing the two of you have in common.

"You know he'd never leave me alone."

"Like a fucking limpet."

"A what?"

He stares down at his own hand, the suckling motion he was doing. He waves it off. "Nothing."

“Husk, be real please, I don’t know what to do.” Opening up to the bartender is something he's used to people doing. This is the first time he's seen an overlord crumble before him.

"Why the fuck you asking me?"

"I don't have anyone else who knows sign language!"

With the frizziness of your hair and the screeches of your music, his ears begin to droop.

You just continue, your eyes too focused on scanning behind you to notice the changes in Husk's body language. “Zestial said he’s playing me. Do you think that’s true?”

He growls at you and then covers his mouth. You press a hand to your speaker. Thump,thump,thump. It beats in fast dances.

Your hand forms a fist. "I'm sorry."

"How the fuck do you know Zestial?"

"Nevermind, forget it." The red dress drags behind you when you rush to the door.

People scratch out their ears. They attack each other, claws and teeth ripping through flesh down to their organs. Cars crash into buildings, lighting fires and igniting anybody close enough. You stomp down the street, dress flowing behind you like the goddess Hathor. The noise pierces Vox's cameras, all turning off one by one when you walk by. Carmilla holds her daughter's hands and goes behind closed doors when she hears the noise getting louder and louder. Zestial continues sipping his tea, holding a book in his hand, waiting for you; he has since you left. Alaster hasn't let you out alone since he dragged you here, but now you've found yourself plodding through Pentagram City. Your eyes remain locked ahead, uncaring rather than avoiding.

You even scowl when you ride up the elevator. You face the wall, arms crossed and shoulders high. Zestial's quarters in this building are tucked away; the moment the door is opened, one is greeted with a pitch-black tone. You were only hoping he was sitting in here, and you were right. As if he was waiting for you. A long table sits in the middle of his room, and he sits on one side, a book in his hand. The chair across from him is tucked in neatly.

You put your hand on the back of that chair, yank it out, and sit down, scooting in urgently. He doesn't look up at you until he sees you lift your hands. “Zestial, curse you for bringing negative thoughts into my head. I believe you were right.”

He looks up from his book, and a smile quickly forms on his face as he recognizes your frustrated expression. He closes the novel and places it to the side.

"Ah, little one, what a pleasant surprise. I take it thou has encountered some sort of dilemma since we last spoke? Hast the demon done something indelible?"

“Terribly accurate, I’m afraid. I’ve left the hotel in a haste after the dilemma. Do you want to guess what Alastor said to me?” You lean forward, eyes wide with indignation towards the name. “Guess what he said.”

He leans back in his seat. His ample amount of eyes all focus on your face, grasping at each curve, logging into his memory your emotional distress. "Thou art angered by whatever Alastor said. Allow me to hazard a guess... Mayhaps he said something to tease thee, or made a clever remark that thou did not appreciate?"

“He told me he loved me. He said that word, that specific word.” A wave of static howls from your speaker so loud that he has to clench his fists to withhold a noticeable flinch. You hardly notice.

But then he holds out his hand, palm facing you, a slight motion telling you to calm down. It's not a command; it's something gentle. Your eyes stay on his hand; he doesn't move it for as long as you need. Your pupils trail over the sharp points on his long fingers; they even sway a bit, capturing your attention further.

You sigh, put two fingers on your neck, and feel your pulse without the rhythm of your music. You nod to yourself. “I must get out of that hotel. Though forged with isolation, I’ve found my personal chambers much more appealing recently.”

"I see his confession has not brought the reaction he'd hoped for. It seems to have pushed thee further away."

“He was using it to tease me.” But the stagger of your hands gets shaky, sounding unsure. “He had to have been.”

Confession?

With the perceived uncertainty, Zestial leans forward in his seat, interested in unraveling you. "So thou believe that Alastor was merely teasing and playing with thy emotions? Using the words "I love you" as a jest rather than a sincere expression of affection?"

“He wouldn’t say it for any other reason. I thought you’d agree.”

"May I challenge that belief for a moment?"

You're on the verge of slamming your face into the table. “Say your piece. I’ll listen.”

Zestial grins at your response, at your reluctant acceptance. His expression becomes severely thoughtful, and all of his eyes slowly shrink with deconstruction. "Ah, how gracious of thou to humor me. Now, allow me to present a counter-argument."

He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "What if Alastor's use of the phrase "I love you" was not merely a jest, but a sincere expression of his feelings? What if, beneath his playful exterior, he has indeed developed genuine affection for thee?"

“Then all I did was run away..."

Your head spins. Zestial had told you there is more than one way to love. That comment had brushed over you, but now you think you understand. You think.

He recognizes the denial and resistance etched on your face and the hint of understanding in your eyes. "Little one, do not beat yourself up for thy reaction. It is normal to be skeptical and even fearful when confronted with the revelation of another’s affections. I see the need in thine heart, and I shall try to provide some clarity. Now tell me, do thou believe that Alastor is capable of love? Not just any kind of love, but the genuine, affectionate love that one person has for another."

“No.” Your hand fights against you.

You want to add to the comment that you've never considered it or entertained the thought. And though true, all of those things seem fruitless now. “I don’t.”

"Ah, I see... But tell me, why dost thou not believe that Alastor is capable of such love? Is it because of his past actions? His demeanor? Or perhaps something else entirely?"

“With how close we are,” you squeeze your eyes closed. “I believe he would have told me if he’s loved somebody before. I know he’s never had a girlfriend or a wife. I know that he’s not interested in those things.”

Explaining things to him as if he's on the outside of things makes your thoughts settle into better places. You're not acting outraged; this is entirely reasonable.

"Thou base thy belief on the fact that Alastor has not spoken of past loves or relationships. And that he has not shown interest in romantic companionship. Is that correct?"

“Yes.” You meet his eyes, your brows low, and your eyes filled to the brim with confidence. “I know that for a fact. That’s where all of this comes from.”

"But let me pose another question to thou, my dear. Just because Alastor has not spoken of past loves or relationships, or lack thereof, does that mean that he is not capable of loving? Or that he cannot feel affection for someone in the present, or even in the future?"

“I suppose not. Albeit, that’s wishful thinking.” Your head drops, and your cheeks start to warm. “Zestial, are you only saying these things to make me feel better?”

"Ah, my dearest, I do not say these words simply to soothe thy troubled mind. I say them because I sense that thou has shut thyself off from the possibility of love." He leans forward to get you staring into his eyes again. "Thou has dismissed Alastor's words as a jest, purely because thou cannot fathom the idea of him being capable of such emotions."

“Do I apologize to him?” And even smaller, your fingers barely brush out the words: “Does he not like me anymore?”

"Alastor values thy friendship immensely, and I doubt a single incident would sway his affections so easily."

"You told me earlier that you believe he's reeled me in for a plan of his." You sit back. "Zestial, my dear friend, tell me what you think he has planned for me."

"I do not know exactly what his plan is. All I can be sure of is that he has... taken a liking to thee, in some such capacity," his shoulders drop with a sigh, "I would also agree with thou that this... confession, if't be true we are to name it such, is most unfair to thou, in the way he delivered it unto thee. The Radio Demon plays for keeps, and no one knows exactly what he truly wants until he has it."

"You're confusing me."

His impossibly long arm reaches across the table and holds the side of your head, his pointed fingers putting strands astray. With his other one, he coos at you as if you're a child. "Calm yourself, little one. If thou were to return to thy status, remind yourself that Alastor would lay beneath thee."

Don't word it like that.

"If you let him know that then he'd kill me."

He pulls his hand away. "The true meaning of compassion will guide nature's course."

His cape is stiff as he stands, hardly moving with the motion. "Come now, my dear melody, I believe it is time for thou to return."

[camels-pen]

"Hey, Sanji."

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever fallen in love?"

Sanji paused to take a drag of his cigarette.

"Well, we sail with two gorgeous-"

"Sanji."

He sighed. "Yes, I have."

Usopp turned away from the night sky to rest his head on Sanji's shoulder, squinting at him.

"I have!"

Usopp squinted a little more before turning back to lay flat on the grass. "Tell me about them."

Sanji blew out a puff of smoke. "Why the hell should I?"

"C'mon just do it." At Sanji's stubborn silence, Usopp turned to him with a pout. "Pleeeeease?"

After a few more moments, Sanji scowled and blew smoke in Usopp's face. Usopp turned away to cough and rub his eyes.

The moment Usopp turned back to face him with complaints, Sanji said, "I haven't known him long, in the grand scheme of things." Usopp's brows rose high and he settled back against the grass. "He didn't seem like much at first. Just another passing face. It didn't take him long to impress me with his skills. I mean, that brain of his is incredible.

"And don't get me started on all his different types of weaponry. I'm still not totally sure how he manages all of that with random shit you can buy from any old merchant." Sanji sighed. "And he's absolutely gorgeous. Just the prettiest man I've ever seen-"

"Even more than Zoro?" Usopp asked quietly.

Sanji's nose wrinkled. "Disregarding the low bar you just set, yes. Prettier than the mossball by a landslide." A fond smile grew on his lips. "And he's brave. So so brave. He's afraid of so many things, but he never lets that stop him from helping his friends when they need him. He's amazing at what he does and he's-"

The words caught in his throat. Just as they always did.

"He's a king," Sanji finished lamely. "Of a really stupid island."

Usopp's mouth quirked up. "When did you have time to meet a king?" he asked, eyes glued to the sky.

Sanji shrugged, unwilling to name the place they just left. To avoid bad memories. To avoid being found out. "I know people in high places," he said, proceeding to bite his tongue the next moment. Different words, too close to more bad memories.

"Huh. Cool." Usopp's words were clipped. Neutral. It was odd hearing it from such an expressive person. " Did you-" his voice wobbled a moment before he cleared his throat. "Did you meet any other royalty?"

And though Sanji wasn't the resident storyteller, nor did he know why Usopp suddenly seemed so upset, he did his best to weave a tale of having to defeat a stupid grass covered dragon to save a beautiful princess locked in a tower.

When Usopp eventually headed back to the men's quarters though, he still couldn't help the nagging in the back of his head that he had forgotten something. Something very important.

"Oh, Usopp!" He paused midstep, but didn't turn back to Sanji. "I never asked, but what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Have you ever fallen in love?"

Usopp stayed silent a long moment. Sanji had nearly chewed through his cigarette when he spoke.

"I did with Kaya- she's a girl from Syrup- and I get crushes here and there, y'know?" Usopp waved a bandaged hand and continued forward. "Ask me again some other time though, maybe I'll have a better answer for you."

Sanji watched him go, a heavy set to his heart. He muttered to the empty deck, "You're lying."

-

Two years later, the two of them found themselves spread out on Sunny's deck once more, admiring the night sky on their way to Dressrosa.

"You knew I was talking about Sogeking?!"

"Yeah, but I didn't think you knew he was me! I thought you just really liked superheroes! Like, a man's romance, y'know. Like how me and Luffy and Chopper get excited whenever Franky pulls out something new."

"You- I-" Sanji made a frustrated noise and took a deep drag. He inhaled long enough that Usopp was starting to get concerned, before finally, he blew out a big puff of smoke. "Okay, go on."

"There's not much else- I just thought Sogeking was a lot cooler than little old me and I never stood a chance against him."

"Usopp. You. Are. Sogeking."

"Yeah, but y'know. Y'know."

Sanji shook his head. "I really don't."

Usopp started to hum his old theme song. It was just as ridiculous as Sanji remembered it.

Just as it came to the end, Sanji whisper-shouted, "Lock-on!"

The two of them fell into hysterics, clutching their stomachs and trying desperately not to release the laughter bottled up in their throats. The kind that would echo across the ship and wake up most, if not all of their crewmates, and certainly their guest.

"You remember that?" Usopp said, wheezing.

"It's the only part I remember perfectly." Sanji said, hand on his mouth. "You used to scream it at the top of your lungs, of course I remember!"

"It was to build confidence!"

"It was because you got too into your performance!"

They giggled quietly, the built up laughter slowly fading away, until they were relaxed once more.

Sanji turned his head to stare at Usopp. Take the time to admire the way he'd changed and grown in their time apart. There were the physical changes of course- Sanji was a big fan of those- but also his boost in confidence. His surety of his place on the crew. With the crew.

And more than the changes, Sanji saw Usopp's carefree laughter, his passionate storytelling, his terrified shrieks, his quiet tinkering, his annoying pranks-

God, Sanji missed him- loved him- so much.

And then a thought came to him.

"Hey Usopp."

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever fallen in love?"

Usopp smiled, squeezing their interlocked fingers.

"Yes," he said, bringing up their hands to kiss the ring on Sanji's finger. "I have."

[sapphic-woes]

Can't help but think about a Vampire!Tav x Karlach... so part 1 of this idea :) pardon the lack of quality haven't done this for a while.

Vampire!Tav x Karlach:

You're one of Astarion's siblings, and let's say here that the rite simply Does Not Exist and we just gotta kill Cazador cuz he's already bad enough as is. The scars are indeed a shitty, Raphael style poem.

You and Astarion are basically double trouble, absolute menaces, downright diabolical together...but then Halsin comes along and ruins everything.

Astarion is...good? Suddenly? Or at least, he tries to be. Because Halsin is as good as people get, and for once...it's actually affecting Astarion.

And ugh. You hate it.

He's all smiles and rainbows now. Giggling like a lovesick idiot. You pity him for looking like such a fool. Doesn't he know how easy it is to string someone along? How easy it was to hand them over to Cazador and then just...forget them? How little love actually meant?

At least, that's what you tell yourself when you watch them being together. In reality, you're jealous of Astarion as much as you are a teeny tiny bit happy.

What could it be like? Loving someone just...because? To finally feel safe around another person? Protected? Cared for?

Astarion doesn't look afraid anymore, whereas you can't go a day without hearing Cazador's voice ordering you around. To sit up straight, to know your place, to never dare to drink the blood of a another–

"Soldier? Mm it's not even morning yet... Huh? Hey, easy-shit–easy there soldier! If you need to, uh, eat? Wait hang on, it's more like drinking isn't it? Well, you know what I mean! What I'm trying to say is, if you need blood..."

Your band of misfits had been hurrying to Baldurs Gate like maniacs, leaving you little time to feed. Sure, you caught your occasional animal, but unlike Astarion, you didn't have a humanoid blood bank willing to be your donor. You'd been hungry for days, however, you still thought you had everything control.

"...could ya ask before you try to take a bite outta my neck?"

Coming out of your hunger induced daze to find a surprised Karlach underneath you was...alarming, to say the least.

Not because of the position–she was warm and so fucking firm underneath your skin, sharply contrasting your cold, undead body. You nearly wanted to melt into her arms.

When was the last time you'd experienced warmth apart from blood and tears? Let alone the warmth of another person?

But this wasn't a time to loose focus. Karlach has already warned Astarion when your secret identities had been revealed. She'd wring your neck for actually trying to bite her now. Sure, you were strong–buy you'd be a fool to think you had a chance against the tiefling.

You're frozen in panic so long that Karlach begins to move, slowly trying to prop herself up with her elbows. She's trying to make sure you don't fall off her...

Though at the realization, her efforts are in vain as you lurch yourself away in horror.

Shit, shit, shit–

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I wasn't in my right mind. I swear I would never... I-I know you said to keep our teeth to o-ourselves..."

Your dead heart pounds, and you're certain she'll snap you in two after this. Why couldn't it have been Gale? Or even Wyll? At least with them you had the chance of survival. With a barbarian like Karlach?

This time, you really were going to die.

You squeeze your eyes shut when she finally rises from her bed and stalks toward you. Slow, purposeful steps. Her eyes are troubled, and you can't fathom why.

That is until she stops you and softly speaks.

"I thought you'd been looking a little tired these days. I shoulda brought it up early, but I know you like your privacy. Y/N..."

There's a beat of silence, and then everything is sweet. Mouthwatering. The scent of blood invades your senses. It's good. So good.

Your head snaps up, and Karlach has her knees bent, thumb out like she's telling you 'good job!' However, what catches your eyes is the cut on it–dripping blood onto the dirt between you two.

"I don't mind sharing...if you don't mind the heat."

It's an amusing sight for Karlach, you're sure, but you'd abandoned your pride long ago.

Well, more like 5 minutes ago–but can you blame a girl when she's starving?

You suck on her thumb like her blood is holy, eager to satiate your hunger. Karlach shivers, and you swear she grits her teeth, but you can't stop.

Her blood is intense, like chugging molten lava straight down your throat. Yet it doesn't actually burn. It tingles, it warms, it... rejuvenates you. Was this what it meant to drink from a thinking creature? Or was Karlach simply the best meal you'd ever had...?

[shrimplymoray]

This is... Very much self-indulgent and for my own comfort right now. So, excuse anything that may be off, or a bit OOC. TW: Apathy crisis, existential crisis.

Cronus Ampora x Reader - Apathy

Cronus was never the smartest fish in the sea when dealing with people, especially when it is other's feelings. He may seem like the emotional type of guy (he has cried multiple times for human love songs), but dealing with others is way out of his league. He - and the rest of the Beforus trolls for that matter - keep wondering how he managed to actually score one. He was used to shooting his shot at others and missing by well over a mile, so his oh-so-not-smooth flirts actually hitting a soft spot for you made him lose his composure, and get fidgety. An adorable view, truly. Though in past times his bluntness and lack of emotional knowledge never affected you, it seemed as though fate had other plans. Apathy. Something all 13 of you have become used, almost acquaintances to. Sadly, being used does not mean it is easy to deal with. Some of you, like Meulin and Rufioh, have mastered the art of surrounding yourself with others to get better. Latula and Porrim tend to dive into hobbies to lessen the effects. You? Oh... Even after what seemed like thousands of years, it is a mystery what actually helps you. That is why, this time, Cronus went too far for you. It was simple, you were faking till you got better, but he ran his mouth too much. "Heyy~ hot stuff, are ya mad at somefin? Did'ya stub yer toes? Ya so dry it shorelly must'vwe been somefin goin' on." A pause, and an answer "I don't know what you're talking about Cro." "Huh? C'mon, bae~ Lemme guess... Meenah talked shit 'bout yer hair?" "Is... there something with my hair?" "wvah- NONONO! No it, uh, it looks as great as ya! Like alwvays, I just, uh, y'knowv howv she can get, haha!" You knew he was not trying to make you mad, yet... He didn't seem charming when being a dork, this time. Your pause, the look in your void white eyes that stared at his, and your look at the distance. That showed him something really was up. And also that he fucked up big time by running his mouth today. "Hey... Hey, look at me." "What?" "Y'knowv ya can trust me, right? Ya been here for me, wvhat good of a matesprit wvould I be if I didn't do the same?" ... "It's the... the thing, again. This stupid thinkpan of mine can't seem to co-work with my bloodpumper. It's like... Y'know how, like, sometimes the reality hits us? that... that we are gonna be here, forever. We will never grow old, travel the world, or... or have a life, again. We are stuck in the bubbles, and we don't have a future ahead of us anymore. Any... certainty we had once, from the moment our session ended, it will never occur, like, ever again." "Wvoah..." It took a while, the two of you staring at the abyss, on the edge of the dreambubble you two have been sitting on, a special place for you, as this is one of your bubbles. No one said anything. You couldn't feel uncomfortable, at that moment. The lack of emotions took a deep toll on you, but you instinctively looked at Cronus. When he looked at you, however, he didn't seem worried. Or afraid. He took his goofy fake 'human' cigarette put it on the corner of his mouth, and gave you his side grin. Not the smug one, the one he puts whenever he is really confident about what he is going to say. "I mean, ya not wvrong, by any means but... heh... Do ya think it is bad? I mean, hey! Wve are gonna be all here forevwer, so that means wve can at least, like, be together for eternity or wvathevwer. I used to be pretty damn bad wvith these apathy shellnanigans but... I'm not really that afraid anemonemore. I havwe the best fuckin' matesprit in the wvhole 'bubbles and, like, I'm pretty damn shore I can live the rest of a boring eternity if I havwe ya to make it interestin'!" As you two stared to the far, far void of nothing, outside the bubble, you instinctively reached a hand on top of his, which, as always, sent his face into a violet blush mess, and managed to drag a smile and chuckle out of you. "Can't complain with that, really."

[apathetic-pixel-42]

can i request hao with a s/o that looks innocent but she can and will throw a man bigger then her with one hand

Hi!! Thank you so much for the request! Sorry it's taken me so long to answer, life's been pretty busy lately! I hope you enjoy!! <33333

Hao Asakura With An Innocent Looking S/O Who's Secretly Strong! 💥

When he first met you all those years ago, to say you shocked him is an understatement. Yet, he immediately found you attractive. I mean, c'mon. A innocent shaman like you who's somehow able to beat anybody's ass? How could he not want you?

He finds you especially intriguing if you purposefully act innocent. Now, if you actually were just innocent and dense, he would also find it adorable. Would he exploit it? Yes. Does he still love you? Absolutely.

The first time he saw you fight, he was honestly a bit tense. Your opponent and his team were twice your size, which did worry him a bit. Imagine his surprise when he watches you singlehandedly beat up the biggest guy on the opposing team.

He showered you with praise afterwards, but mostly in private. As much as he's enamored with you, he has an image to uphold. Though, he makes it kinda obvious that you're one of his favorites.

He also finds your ironic strength reassuring. As powerful as he is, he can't always be there to protect you from harm. However, once he realized that you could take care of yourself, it helped put his mind at ease.

To say you two are a power couple is an understatement. Once word got round that you were Hao's partner, you inevitably had a lot of targets on your back. However, once everyone got to see your obnoxious amount of strength, a lot of people backed off immediately.

Introducing you to Yoh was...something. Yoh had actually had a couple friendly interactions with you, but finding out you were Hao's partner was a literal shit storm. Yoh was screaming. Horohoro was screaming. Manta and Choco were screaming. Twas a lot of screaming.

Hao was pretty shameless when showing you affection later on in the relationship. Once he finally gets comfortable with you, he's not afraid to get a little handsy. It's also because he's spent thousands of years alone. The poor guy is touch deprived.

When he eventually put his plan to become Shaman Kind in action, he was anxious about your reaction. He was ecstatic when you agreed to it though. Plus, you would be useful in achieving his goal.

During the final battle inside the Great Spirit, he found himself looking for you. He held you close during the entire confrontation, refusing to let you go no matter how much everyone told him to do so. After his mother knocked some sense into him, he realized that he couldn't keep you with him if you didn't want to.

He gave you the choice of either living or staying with him. If you chose to live, he'd be upset but would watch over you. He would wait for your inevitable death to reunite with you again.

If you chose to stay with him, he'd be over the moon. He'd hug you tight and, when everyone was gone, he'd quietly cry into your neck or shoulder. You just made him so happy.

Overall, your innocence and strength would be weird to him at first. However, he'd eventually come to love you and your weirdness.

[eccentricgrace]

Howl, Talk, Scream || IronDad

summary: tony rescues him, he does, he always will. but he's never quick enough, and this time-- someone has sewn his kid's lips shut.

tags: peter parker whump, hurt/comfort, mentions of kidnapping, protective tony stark, peter is okay!!

wc: 1953

⚠️tw: needles, sutures/stitches, gross medical stuff

cross-posted to wattpad by the same name!

Tony doesn't think this part of the job ever gets easier.

He gets used to most of it, see; the racing heart, the ache in his bones that never seems to go away, the threats he sees in very dark corner of a room. A rush of adrenaline that fades to crushing lungs. You'd think that was the biggest hurdle. Tony thought that would be the biggest hurdle, too, back in 2007, back when the sound of his phone going off had him choking in gulps of air between bile, back when the dark of his room after a nightmare would have him stop breathing all together.

Miraculously, he did get used to it, and then he got used to it all over again, but this time it was worse. It was worse because then Pepper's right there holding his hand after every nightmare, and Rhodey's visiting almost every day to bully him into taking his stupid SSRIs, and Happy's dropping by with some five dollar cheeseburger every other week "just because", and suddenly— suddenly he realizes. For the first time in his life, he has something worse to lose than himself.

Nobody ever comes out of a life like this without getting used to it. There's no other way to survive.

And yet. And yet.

Moments like these.

The part of the job that never gets easier.

The aftermath, of course. Tony's never prepared for the aftermath of it. He's never had to be, before all of this. He's had to take a stabilizing breath before entering a room before, but never because he was afraid to see—

Well.

The kid got himself into some hot water again. These days, this has proven to be the number one cause of Tony's tachycardiac increase. It was horrible, the whole process of it, like it always was— realizing he never made it home, scrambling to find him, praying when they found him he wouldn't be...

But they did find him, because Tony wouldn't let himself fail with something so colossally as important as keeping Peter Parker safe and be able to live with himself afterwards, the only issue is that he just— he just wasn't fast enough.

On a paper passed in the quinjet, he wrote in shaky writing:

they didn't like how much i talked

Peter's in the med bay, and he's bruised to high heavens, a wild look in his eyes that sets all the nurses on high alert. He hasn't spoken in hours. This doesn't mean he hasn't tried.

He clearly has tried, actually. Torn skin and dried blood coating the entire bottom half of his face, all the way down his neck. Tony feels sick at the thought.

"We just need to remove the stitches," the doctor says calmly. Gloved hands hold scissors in one, tweezers in the other. She stands a safe distance away. "Okay? Nod yes if you can understand me."

Peter— Peter's shaking. His eyes don't leave the doctor's hands, and his whole body is strung as tight as a bow. His fists clench.

"Peter," Tony's voice cracks. He clears his throat, avoiding his eyes. Takes another deep breath, and then summons all his courage to look his kid in the eyes. He's already looking back, holding so much trust and terror in his panicked gaze. 

Tony swallows thickly and shifts his chair closer. He'd been trying to give the doctors the space they need to fix this, to make it better where he couldn't, but he doesn't give a shit now. He can't, not when Peter's looking at him like that.

"We need to get those off your mouth," Tony says, wincing, because just the acknowledgement of the current situation feels so heavy. He feels like he's being crushed. "We need to know happened, if you're okay, we can't do that if you can't talk to us."

Peter looks like he wants to open his mouth. His lips twitch, but are firmly held in place by the shoddy sutures. He shudders, looks back at the doctor, then back at Tony.

The doctor takes a step forward, and immediately Peter's neck snaps back over to her. His breathing becomes frantic, his nostrils flaring to compensate for the lack of oxygen. A panicked series of muffled noises comes tumbling from his lips, and blood drips down his chin as the slight movement tears further at the stitched skin.

"Hey, woah," Tony stands up, putting himself between Peter and the doctor. She has already taken several steps back, her arms raised in the air, her expression soaked in guilt. "Okay, easy. Let's take it easy."

He turns to Peter, bending his knees to look at him better. Reflexively, a hand reaches for Peter's knee, and he pats it in comfort. "You're okay, right? I won't let anyone hurt you, I've got you now. I'm not letting you out of my sight. You can trust me, can't you? Breathe, kiddo."

Peter nods quickly, forcing himself to slow the breaths his nose was rushing to take. He blinks furiously, and tears trail down and wash lines of blood away. It's horrific. Tony wants to sit very quietly and cry for a very long time. He wants different blood to be on his hands.

"Mr. Stark," the doctor says meekly. "Might I suggest you remove the stitches instead? It should be fairly simple to remove, it doesn't look like they even did it properly..."

"Yes. Thank God for that," Tony grits out dangerously. He exhales shakily and looks back at his kid. "What do you say, kid? Can you nod, if that's alright with you?"

Peter looks at him for a long moment, his teary eyes glassy in the white lights of the medical bay. He slowly, cautiously, nods.

"Okay," Tony says. He takes a moment to solidify himself, his arms, his legs, all the parts that have been more or less liquid since he's carried Peter in here, since he's stopped carding a hand through his sweaty, blood-matter hair.

He locks away the wildness in his chest, the paternal beast that cringes and cries at the thought of touching Peter's wounds with his own hands, being the reason he winces, being the source of his pain if even for a moment.

Peter's trusting him. He keeps that running through him like saline on an IV drip. Peter's trusting him. He's in pain, he's trusting you to fix it, so fix it.

Tony pulls gloves on, takes the tools from the doctor. He approaches Peter carefully, and keeps his face neutral. He hopes it's more comforting than the look of a doctor who keeps glancing at clenched fists with sweat on her brow.

Peter's still shaking. Marvelously, he blinks a few times, and then closes his eyes tightly, and Tony feels his entire heart clench in his chest. It seems like such a simple thing. So, so, simple. But Tony's been on the other side of the room, watching needles or what have you with that kind of terror, and the last thing he could think of doing would be to sacrifice his most valuable sensory input.

Tony doesn't know how, doesn't know what he did to deserve this kind of innocent all-forward trust, but he looks at Peter, trembling in his fear, his eyes clenched shut and his chin jutted out, and Tony swears by everything holy that he'll protect it with his life.

"Do you want me to talk to you while I work?" Tony says quietly, sitting down in front of him.

Peter takes a second, and then nods.

"Okay." Tony steels his gaze, taking in the work. Fishing line, maybe, or something just as crude, sewn in one uneven, messy, tight line of stitches across his kid's bloodied lips. His stomach turns. "I'm gonna start on the left, your left, and I'm going to use tweezers, okay? You feel metal, that's just tweezers. Nothing sharp."

Peter nods once, just to show he understands, and goes still. Tony takes it as permission. He moves carefully, picking at the loosest bit of the stitch he can find, which ironically is a knot tied at the edge of his mouth. He pokes at it with the tweezers and Peter flinches.

"Just tweezers," Tony reminds him, keeping his voice level. It's a miracle he isn't shaking like a leaf. "Little cold, nothing scary."

He pulls it up a little, and grimaces at the sight of it, the whole grisly thing. "Alright, Peter, you're going to hear the scissors, but they're not anywhere near you. I just want you to hear the sound."

Tony waits for another nod, and then lifts the scissors up. He snips them once, twice, a few more times, until Peter's flinches become less as jolting.

"Are you okay?" Tony checks in. Peter nods.

"Okay, I'm going to snip the thread," Tony says. "It'll be just like last time. You won't feel anything. You're just gonna hear the scissors, remember? Do you want me to count down?"

Peter hesitates, and then shakes his head.

"Alright." Tony pulls back again at the stitch. He holds his breath, and then snips it with the scissors. With the knot gone, tension goes immediately lack, and Peter's shoulders drop.

"We're almost done," Tony cheers weakly. His eyes are misty, and it's so, so hard to keep the cracks out of his voice. He's trying. He's trying, for Peter. "Good boy. We're almost done. Few more snips. It'll be way easier now."

He tugs at the middle of the line, it easily becoming loose. Peter shivers, his face curling in displeasure.

"Yeah, I bet that doesn't feel good," Tony tries lightly. "Okay, you're gonna hear the scissors again."

He pulls up the line with the tweezers, and another snip. With that, he's able to pull half of the thread out of his goddamn mouth. Halfway there. Halfway. Blood trickles from the open wounds.

"Okay, other side now," Tony continues. There's a waver in his tone this time, sneaking out before he can calm it. "You okay still?"

Peter doesn't move. He keeps his jaw clenched and just breathes, and Tony remains still until he's ready. After a minute, Peter nods again.

Tony pulls at the other knot, and snips it, and then quickly pulls the thread completely out, and drops both the tweezers and the scissors to the side with a shaky breath of relief.

He blinks and he has an armful of teenager, Peter's arms wrapped around his waist so tightly Tony struggles to breathe in. Tony welcomes the feeling, just grateful that Peter is feeling strong enough to do so in the first place.

All the while, Tony's smoothing out his hair, he's petting at his back, squeezing his shoulders, saying, "I've got you. Jesus. Never again. You're okay. You're okay. We're okay."

Tears drip down his cheek, fine, he wasn't strong enough to keep them at bay. None of it matters anymore. The only thing that matters is the kid, and he's right here, and Tony's right here, and it's all going to be fine.

"I knew you'd save me," is the first thing Peter says, all blubbery and snot-covered all over Tony's nice shirt, and he really shouldn't be speaking yet at all. Blood is trickling from his mouth. His voice is very clearly hoarse.

"Of course," Tony repeats, over and over and over. "Always. Every time. Any time. God, kid."

Because yes, he'll save Peter for as long as he can still breathe. Longer, if he's able. He's done it countless times already.

It's always the hardest part of a job that matters the most, even if it never gets easier.

[ramim]

Fanfiction Time! (Lucien×Azriel and painful as fuck! Because I'm PMSing and my brain is stewing for tragedy and drama)

So I have this fanfic on my head which in Azriel and Lucien get together secretly and they are the perfect couple and all. They keep it a secret for months and one they Azriel decides to tell his family about their relationship bcz he wants to share his life with them but that's when everything goes downhill because the IC are skeptical about their relationship, specially Mor because she can't bring herself to trust Lucien and get over the fact that Lucien is Eris's brother.

So after a while, Azriel gets tired of everyone being so hostile toward Lucien but he can't bring himself to fight with his family, bcz he is so afraid of losing them. So he does the one thing he believes is the easiest, because he was alone before and he survived, so he thinks he can survive again. He breaks up with Lucien. This is the scene:

He had lived through wars, he had survived torture, but this... This was breaking him. He felt stretched too thin, his skin papery and ready to crumble; was it the cruel fate or the mockery of life? He didn't know... But he was done. He couldn't loose his family, he couldn't bear being an outsider for them, and being with Lucien was just that! Being an outsider... He backed a step, he had to do this. Even if it was hard, even if it ended the one good thing he managed to build in the five centuries of his life "we can't be together anymore, it's wrong! It's pointless! All of it, all this shit is just a fucking mistake, I should have never approached you that night and you... You should have stayed away! I know I said things, i know I made you think we were good for eachother, believe me, i thought we were! But I know better now. I can't do this anymore, I can't keep ignoring who you are. Who you family are! It's over Lucien...we... We are over!" He backed another step, hoping that physically distancing himself whould help to let go!

the pain in Lucien's face would haunt him for years; betrayal flashed in Lucien's russet eye as his lower lip trembled... Azriel saw the exact moment that his words broke Lucien's heart. But what hurt Azriel more? That there was no question in Lucien's eyes, no doubt, no shock! As if he had been expecting this, as if he always knew Azriel would someday leave him, as if he could never believe someone would love him enough to stay and fight for him...as if Azriel had just proven him right. Broken and hurt, Lucien whispered "but... I love you, doesn't it mean anything to you?" But no... It wasn't an actual question. It was an accusation, it was what Lucien believed now; that all his love meant nothing to Azriel. what love though? How could Lucien love Azriel? Lucien was light and warmth and joy and Azriel.... wasn't!

Blood rushed toward Azriel's face, his control collapsing and his hands shaking... No, no child of light would love something as dark as him! "What the fuck does that even mean? You don't know me! You don't know anything about me! You can't possibly love me!" No... Lucien could never love him! Those were just words...they didn't mean anything.

But the sad amile that graced Lucien's lips, the light catching in his tear soaked golden eye...no! Wrong...Azriel was wrong. It was Lucien, the most generous heart that has ever lived; Lucien could love him. Lucien had loved him! He still did, didn't he? He had made a mistake and he knew it even before Lucien's words reach him "I know your hands always hurt when it gets cold, so I warm them for you. I know you visit your mother every Wednesday,  I know her favourite dessert is raspberry pie just like it's yours, and I always bake two ...so you can have a whole pie for yourself. I know you like your coffee as sweet as it gets and with so much milk that it's not coffee anymore." Lucien swallowed hard, Azriel reached his and and put one step forward but Lucien backed away... Azriel looked him in the eye, begging wordlessly for forgiveness but shaky tears treatened to spill from Lucien's eyes and for the first time in all these months, there was no forgiveness in them, only pain, only betrayal "I know you secretly love being around people because it makes you feel not so lonely, but you like to have you own space in silence as well. I know you steal some of Nesta's books and read them in secret because you actually love love! I know you don't like being an spy but you do it because no one can do it better than you and you don't want to leave your brother alone in doing what's hard and necessary. I know how to make you laugh, I know how to comfort you when you are sad, I know what you like, i know what you hate..but...But if it means nothing to you, maybe i should have never loved you."

All the noises of this world faded into nothing as Lucien's last words echoed in Azriel's eyes, his knees buckled, his heart racing... And before he knew, Lucien was gone.