#WHY DOES HISTORY HAVE TO REPEAT ITSELF.

[stars-and-guts]

were so cooked bro all i can do is fucking give up and doom scroll and joke with my friends about getting deported and try again with voting next time

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

2 & 3 from section 1 for peri and 7 from whichever section has a more interesting #7 for diodore -moss

oooh these are fun ones!

2. Describe their tent set-up (outside and inside) (Peri)

I think Peri's tent is constructed similarly to Gale and Astarion's (boxy, fabric walls, little covered area outside). Deep blue fabric w/ golden astronomical embroidery, mostly the sort of thing you see on star maps. Little golden tassles around the edges of the tarp (?) and the doorframe. He'd have a small, circular, dark wood side table short enough that you can use it sitting on the ground, and a dark blue pillow next to it; there would be some parchment and a bronze miniature astrolabe on the table. The inside would be just. full to the brim with the gaudiest night-sky-themed pillows you've ever seen. No bedroll, no palette, just a nest that would put those cube pits in trampoline parks to shame. There would be two bird perches for his familiar Medani: one taller one next to his tent and one shorter one under the overhang. The shorter one would have a crow-sized bow-tie hanging from it. Rugs on rugs on the outside area ofc. 3. What would their character quest be titled? Why? (Peri)

This is a hard one! His tav ending involves taking over the Waterdeep arm of the Harpers, so I think his arc would have something to do with that. He'd be pretty bitter about being dropped into another near-apocalyptic mess when dealing with the last one a few years prior was supposed to be a one-time thing. Something-something ptsd in a world that doesn't have the words for that yet, something-something 'once a hero always a hero', something-something the weight of responsibility...he's a planeswalker so I think part of it would be whether he decides to stay on Toril long-term and directly help rebuild the Waterdeep Harpers or if he continues to run travel around afterwards, so maybe The Far Traveller/The Far Walker?

Harpson/Fae-son are also potential options. "Fae-son" nods to him being a changeling without it being super obvious (like Astarion's "The Pale Elf"). It would also mimic his backstory reveals from RoT ("oh he's not 'from here' so, like, the Feywild" -> "OH he's not from here"). 7. Describe their arc. How would a player help resolve it? What choices can be made? Can your Tav be turned down a dark path, or pulled to a lighter one? (Diodore)

Buckle up because we're in for a long one here. I've thought about Dora's story arc a lot because she's the first of my tavs that I truly made for the game while having full control over her backstory, etc. (versus Corentin, who had their arc baked into the story as a durge). Dora's a paladin of Corellon (oath of ancients) and her story arc as a companion would have to do with whether or not she should accept capital-r-Redemption, the process by which a drow can be truly "freed" from Lolth and rejoin the ranks of the rest of elven society. It involves all of the Redeemed drow's memories being erased and them being reincarnated as a surface elf. The implication seems to be that without that, regardless of a drow's actions, they'd be thrown back to Lolth when they die? Or at least that their eternal fate is unknown (which is the way I prefer to think of it for. personal reasons). Under normal circumstances, Dora would be a long way from Redemption being presented to her at all (she's not even 200 yet and has only been on the surface for a couple decades), but like with the other gods' Chosen among the companions, near-apocalyptic circumstances tend to speed up those sorts of things.

Of course, you'd have the themes of faith & relationship with deity when they're all unequivocally real and are also mostly all assholes; maintaining or breaking generational cycles; facing the unknown; morality when none of your choices are "good" (and how that interacts with morality vs self preservation); power vs freedom; identity outside of the people who made you; etc. The choice would first be presented to her sometime in late Act I/early Act II, likely the first long rest after the group resurfaces from the Underdark and you've probably gotten some of her backstory already. I have no idea how Larian would have characterized Corellon, but he's considered one of the more benevolent/open-minded deities iirc, which could be interesting to see contrasted with Mystra, Vlaa'kith, and Shar. How much that open-mindedness would extend to a drow, even one who has been a faithful follower even before she escaped to the Surface (and who inherited that faith from her father), is unclear. At the beginning of the game she would be leaning towards accepting Redemption, despite her own misgivings about whether or not she would still be her in that case.

Her final decision (at the ending pier scene) would depend on the relationship she has with the PC and the other companions. Her best ending, imo, would be her not accepting Redemption but continuing to be a force for good. If she has a good relationship with the PC, she would have something to lose. I think seeing the House of Mourning would affect her too. After all, the thing Corellon is offering to her as a way to find peace is the same thing the Sharrans are using as a way to manipulate and control others.

She's viscerally aware of how she was socialized and very actively chooses "good", so pushing her towards a darker path would be incredibly difficult but not impossible. If you side with the goblins she'll leave immediately, and turn on you if she's in your party when you attack the grove. But if you decide to try and control the cult in Act II, depending on your over-all actions before then and how you've interacted with her, you could disillusion her to the point of convincing her to break her oath. That path would entail convincing her that controlling the cult is actually the best idea. I'm sure there would be other times that her oath could break that wouldn't necessarily lock her into an "evil" path, especially with how Oathbreakers are handled in the game. Knocking out Minthara instead of killing her outright and letting Auntie Ethel go in Act I instead of killing her are two things that come to mind.

If she doesn't choose Redemption she would be at the epilogue party, of course. I'm a bit undecided on what would happen if she does choose Redemption. She may not be there at all, w/ Jaheira, Halsin, Minthara, and/or Astarion mentioning running into her in her new, reincarnated state. Or she would be there, confused, and mention how the PC seems familiar in a way she can't quite place. In that case, she would ask them how they know each other and mention something about feeling a twinge of grief looking at everyone, but that she doesn't know why she feels that way. It would be up to the PC how much they tell her (if they tell her anything at all).

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:

Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.

It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:

This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?

Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.

Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:

SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."

That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.

The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.

HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.

Uh oh!

Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.

You can guess where this is going.

So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.

Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.

[onthecrescentofthehill]

it’s funny when ppl talk about the harpy omelet scene and say things like “why did he do all of that? he didn’t need to. JUST doing that for laios???” (seen these nearly verbatim on posts i’ve made.)

i don’t really get how you can hear his backstory & not understand that every decision he makes within the dungeon is fueled by a profound trauma borne out of horrific, structural negligence. of course he would do fucking anything to enact his plan? if he computes “getting in laios’s favor = proxy control of the dungeon” and he has very limited time to do so, he will jump at the chance. he’s already DIED for this.

kabru has maybe the clearest possible motivation that a character can have. he has a Protagonists Motivation, and it guides him forward in a very coherent way in the beginning of the story. things get more complicated in later acts that directly address how that motivation manifests itself/gets contradicted, bc ryoko kui is great at exploring this, but it’s still extremely present.

and as a labru fan i strongly dislike the implication i see from some ppl that his interest in laios is mostly personal or romantic (posts that range from pure joke to actual ship meta.) even when taking the “confession” at face value, where i think he was telling the truth, there’s still a lot more to it than that. i think at first kabru does see laios as a means to an end in a way that’s impersonal, partly because he tends to keep everyone in his life at arms length. but that “end” (preventing history from repeating itself) is something foundational to his psyche, and we should consider that potential sense of safety getting mixed in with his warring fascination/apprehension towards laios. he’s drawn to him for visceral reasons, and his stated motivations are so intertwined with his sense of self that untangling this push-pull is much more interesting than boilerplate Yearning, to me.

it’s just confusing when any meta or basic discussion of kabru diminishes the weight utaya has on his inner world and i’m really surprised every time i see it? like i understand that different types of meta will put other lenses on things intentionally, and in most cases i think it’s an interesting tool to work with. but it’s a massive disservice to his character to put the most foundational experience of his life on the back burner ESPECIALLY when it’s in favor of shipping. dissecting character relationships, romantic or otherwise, is at its best when you have their full personhood in mind!!

[theincantation-if]

☽ DEMO (TBA)

Those who never learn history are doomed to repeat it.

There is something wrong with your blood, the others sense it when they look at you. Your parents said it’s what makes you special, beloved. You wish it to be true. You are ten when you notice the change, the thing that courses in your veins, wishing to be released, but you don’t know how.

You are thirteen when it releases itself. Anguish, grief, rage. Power. It destroys everything around you, it strives to kill, and it does. It is that fateful day that lands you here, trapped and caged within the walls of the Gilded Palace. This is the place you believe you will die.

Until you don’t, you’re kept alive. Here, against your will. Trained and yielded to be a tool. In the next ten years of your life, you will become a prized captive under the King’s guard. Wallowing in hate, waiting for your time to come to an end. Then the dragons appear, the royal family is assassinated, a rebellion ensues, and all the problems are pointed towards you.

Can you prove your innocence? Is it even worth it to try?

The Incantation is rated 18+ for violence, death, abuse, explicit language, unhealthy relationships, morally questionable characters, suggestive content, and possibly more triggers pending.

☽ Play as a witch of your own making.

Customize your character.

Build your relationships with those around you.

Learn more about the power that plagues you.

Form yourself into a weapon of your choosing or become the monster they made you out to be.

Save the kingdom or doom it to eternity.

☽ Romance one of four love interests.

Evander Alazar. (he/him)

Evander is the crown prince of Elyssia. Often charming and elusive, Evander hides behind a mask of arrogance and indifference to get through courtly life. Yet, forced into a role he never wanted - Evander must quickly assume the role of monarchy to keep his kingdom safe. Will it be sink or swim for this young prince?

Trope: Forbidden Love. He shouldn't look at you, you are considered an enemy of the kingdom. He should order your death. So why is it, that when you look at him - his heart seems to stop beating?

Theodore/Theodora "Teddy" de Peyster. (he/him) or (she/her)

Teddy is the crown prince's sworn protector. Noble and steadfast, Teddy is everything the kingdom needs to survive. Born to the retired parent's of the King's guard, all Teddy's life has been is violence and warfare. Is it possible for this knight to rise to the challenge or will they fall on their sword?

Trope: Sworn off Love. The knight cannot afford any mistakes, no matter how small. They keep everyone at a distance, relationships lead to a mess and a mess is a big mistake. But when you smile - they feel a crack appear in their armor.

Maeryn Toussaint. (she/her)

Maeryn is a priestess, belonging to the Church of Estrellas. Frequently skittish and consistently pious, Maeryn has never set foot outside of her convent. That was until the rebellion, where her prophetic abilities could help turn the tide. Can she save the kingdom, or doom the world?

Trope: Love at First Sight. She has never had anyone look at her like she wasn't broken. It's gotten to the point where she believes it too. Yet, when your hand touches hers - she has never felt more put together.

Hartford Moss. (cis) or (non-binary)

Hartford is your best friend, or was at least. Long gone is the vibrant curiosity of childhood, the destruction of Hartford's home leaves nothing but grief in their eyes and regret in their heart. Until they see you again. Will you stay together this time or will fate rip you apart?

Trope: Friends to Lovers. No one has ever seen every piece of them and understood them; their soul is bare, yet people look and don't see. However, you have seen them all of them and never looked away - it makes their head spin.

[grandma-the-ghost]

~Smoke break~

a shadowpeach ?angst? Fic + art<3 : art & writing by me. Hope you enjoy ~

tw: smoking+minor sh

Swk stood leaning against the railing, smooth smoke rolling off his lip.

It feels like century’s since he’s done this, He started this habit near the end of the journey to help with his stress, and he kinda tapered off of it after becoming somewhat of a hermit.

But history has the tendency to repeats itself now a days.

Thankfully it doesn’t really effect him ,medically, one of the many perk’s of being an immortal!

But It doesn’t not affect him.

It clouds his mind making him feel fuzzy, grounding him in the moment while making his problems blur into the background.

The moment? watching the city that holds the last remaining people who somehow care about him,

The water refracting the flickering Lights making a halo effect on the city.

But of course all good things come to an end,

“Ooo~ what do we have here~” it rung in his ear.

It was a degrading voice that ever since the day he met it love to remind him of every little mistake.

reminding him

Why he’s nothing.

And That no matter how hard he tried he’ll never be enough.

Even when the owner of the voice was gone 

It still lingered-

Poking-

Prodding-

Crawling on his back-

It’s suffocating, like it’s holding him down.

…

“What would Mk think”

It was macaque-

“The great sage falling for mortal addictions, how disappointed would he be?~~”

He hummed with a teasing smile.

leaning over the railing trying to get wukong to look him in the eye.

But the king just leaned into his cigaret taking another drag.

He dropped his smile, disappointed.

“Why ARE you smoking” he was more accusatory this time 

“You know it won’t help, RIGHT!” 

The king Held his breath

 “or are you doing this just to forget about your responsibil-“

Apparently smoking makes him even more impulsive too,

Because before he knew It he had macaque by the scarf with their lips pressed together. He letting out a shaky, and agonizingly slow breath out.

Letting The smoke that filled his lungs, fill macaque’s.

His eyes were closed but he could feel macaque lean in, he was trying to tease him, wukong figured.

When he pulled back the six-eared-macaque was wearing an unreadable face.

His eyebrows raised and nit together, eyes wide, pupils small, and mouth slightly agape letting smoke slip out.

He was surprised yet something else, wukong didn’t care to find out.

Breathing in “you can ether LEAVE or SHUT UP and have a smoke” Swk said gesturing to the pack of cigarettes. The pack had been resting on the railing, being the only company he had before macaque showed up, it only had two cigarettes left.

Wukong turned towards the city inspecting the one he already had, It was almost burned out.

He lifted it up, pressing it deep into his neck before twisting it. Making it Let out a sharp sizzle. In the corner of his eye he could’ve sworn he saw macaque flinch, But he knew better.

He closed his eyes and let out a slow sigh. Before tossing it into a nearby trash can.

He turned to grab another, but in one swift movement macaque grabbed the whole box.

Apparently he chose to stay.

While Giving him a glare. He stuffed the box into his pocket while lifting one of the cigarettes to his mouth .

Once his other hand was free it was lifted to the other end of the cigarette.

There was A flash of purple before it started smoking.

“You really are the worst mentor” it was macaque‘s favorite insult nowadays, a guaranteed fight. He just loved the attention didn’t he? But the monkey king just kept looking at the city. Even though Swk would never admit it, macaque was right.

that kid does deserve better 

And He knows he isn’t Good enough, yet, but he would be damned if he didn’t try.

So he will become better, or die trying.

——————

AAAAAA- I spent my whole weekend working on this, sorry for the shittty art- I was tearing through art block. Any constructive criticism about my writing though is welcome~

anyway have a good day~~~

[shiftthemoon]

will shifting ever be scientifically proven? a nerdy investigation. . .

reality shifting exists in a weird twilight zone between mysticism and science. on one hand, shifters claim full sensory experiences in different realities, describing their DRs as just as real—if not more real—than this one. on the other, skeptics dismiss it as intense imagination, an extension of lucid dreaming or dissociation at best.

so, will shifting ever be scientifically proven? will we one day have brain scans, peer-reviewed studies, and neuroscientific validation backing it up? or will it remain in the same category as astral projection and past-life regression—forever debated, never confirmed?

guys, this isn’t just a yes-or-no question. it’s a deep dive into how science deals with the unknown, how history has repeatedly proven skeptics wrong, and whether shifting might be next!!!

what science currently says: shifting vs. similar phenomena

while shifting itself hasn’t been studied in depth (yet), we do have research on similar states of consciousness—lucid dreaming, hypnosis, and even maladaptive daydreaming (to an extent). so, what does science say about these?

1. lucid dreaming: once called “impossible,” now neurologically proven

not too long ago, lucid dreaming was considered pseudoscience. the idea that someone could be conscious while dreaming sounded absurd—until researchers found a way to prove it.

scientists like stephen laberge used fMRI scans and eye movement signals from sleeping participants to confirm that lucid dreamers were indeed aware and controlling their dreams. we now know that lucid dreaming involves a unique interplay between the prefrontal cortex (responsible for self-awareness and decision-making) and the REM sleep stage.

before this research? lucid dreamers were written off as liars, delusional, or mistaking their dreams for something they weren’t. sound familiar?

2. hypnosis: once dismissed, now widely used in medicine

hypnosis was once labeled as stage magic and a party trick. today, it’s an accepted psychological phenomenon used in therapy, pain management, and even surgery (yes, surgery—some patients have undergone operations using only hypnosis as anesthesia).

neuroscientific studies show that hypnosis alters brain activity, shifting people into a highly focused state where the brain processes suggestions as reality. if science could accept that the mind can be influenced to perceive reality differently, why is shifting such a stretch?

3. maladaptive daydreaming: a new but recognized condition

maladaptive daydreaming wasn’t officially named until 2002, when professor eli somer identified it as a distinct phenomenon. before then, people struggling with excessive, immersive daydreaming were misdiagnosed with ADHD, OCD, or dissociative disorders.

now, we have concrete research proving that MD is neurologically distinct from normal imagination, linked to overactivity in the default mode network (DMN)—the brain’s self-referential system.

again, before science caught up, these people were called lazy, unfocused, or simply too imaginative. now? it’s a legitimate condition with ongoing research.

what can we take away from that? well, this formula, probably:

history repeats itself: the cycle of disbelief → proof → acceptance

science has a history of mocking what it doesn’t yet understand. let’s not forget that:

• germ theory was laughed at—until microscopes proved bacteria existed.

• deep-sea creatures? dismissed as sailor myths—until we developed better submersibles.

• lucid dreaming, hypnosis, and MD—all called “fake”, until research proved otherwise.

what does this tell us? if shifting is real, the fact that it hasn’t been proven yet doesn’t mean it won’t be. it just means science hasn’t caught up.

but, i like being thorough & unbiased, so i’ll list a few reasons i think or don’t think it’ll be proven!

reasons shifting might be proven

1. brain scans might reveal shifting-specific activity.

• fMRI studies could eventually show unique neurological patterns in shifting states, differentiating it from dreaming or imagination.

2. science is moving towards studying altered consciousness.

• lucid dreaming, astral projection, and out-of-body experiences are getting more attention in neuroscience. shifting could be next.

3. quantum theories suggest consciousness may not be confined to the brain.

• theories like the many-worlds interpretation propose infinite parallel realities—if true, shifting might be tapping into that.

4. hypnosis proves perception can be altered at a deep level.

• shifting might be a self-induced state where the brain accepts a different reality as real.

5. historical precedent shows that dismissed phenomena often get validated later.

reasons shifting might never be proven

1. there’s no scientific method to test it yet.

• unlike lucid dreaming (where we can confirm awareness inside dreams), there’s no current way to measure or prove someone is in a DR.

2. it relies on subjective experience.

• shifting is deeply personal—there’s no external way to prove someone’s consciousness is in another reality.

3. science still struggles to define consciousness itself.

• if we don’t fully understand what consciousness is, proving it can move between realities is even harder.

4. there’s no physical evidence of DRs existing.

• unless we discover parallel realities and a way to interact with them, shifting might remain in the realm of belief rather than science.

5. mainstream science is slow to accept unconventional ideas.

• even if shifting is real, it could take decades—or even centuries—for science to acknowledge it.

my verdict: will shifting ever be proven?

it depends on what shifting actually is.

• if shifting is a genuine form of multiversal travel, it might take quantum physics advancing far beyond what we currently know to validate it.

• if shifting is a unique altered state of consciousness, neuroscience might eventually find evidence through brain imaging studies.

• if shifting is something else entirely—something we don’t even have a framework for yet—it might never be proven in our lifetime.

but history has shown that just because science hasn’t proven something yet doesn’t mean it won’t. skepticism is often just delayed understanding.

so, will shifting be scientifically proven? not tomorrow, not next year—but if history has taught us anything, it’s that the impossible has a habit of becoming reality.

and when that day comes, best believe we’ll be the ones saying “told you so.”

[animeyanderelover]

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clingiess, manipulation, isolation, abduction, death

Tags: @flaming-vulpix @lovley-valentine7 @ladydoe8

Sweet s/o doesn't think they're worthy of love

Sohma Hatori

🐉​Well, perhaps misery really does love company as both of you just happen to be in the exact same boat as each other. Hatori and you both do not see yourselves as worthy of love yet at the same time both of you believe that the other one is more than just deserving of finding a significant other that will treat them with love and affection. Hatori's heart doesn't open its doors easily for just anyone, not after he put the woman he loved so much through pain and was forced to erase her memories. He has witnessed himself how happy she is without him and that has led him to believe that he could never attribute to someone's happiness as a lover. Yet you bang dangerously on a heart that continues to soften with thoughtful gestures. There's nothing that makes his heart flatter quite as much as when you walk in on him having fallen asleep on his desk and he wakes up with a blanket drapped over his shoulders or the drinks and bento boxes that you bring him whenever he is working too long. The fear presses heavily down on his chest as Hatori fears that history will repeat itself yet at the same time he cannot surpress his longing for eternity. His heart is unable to turn itself off.

🐉​So Hatori starts returning the affection you show him, showers you in the same care and attention that you have given him even though he doesn't think that he is worthy of it. He may not be worthy of your love but you are worthy of all the love and even if it may not be much he is willing to give it all to you. Throughout his own low self-worth it only now occurs to him that perhaps you have been harboring a very similar mindset as him. He hears it when your friends excitedly ask you about Hatori and you firmly reply that the both of you only care about each other as friends, jokingly replying that someone like him could never love you. It's only meant to lighten the mood but his heart drops when he hears those words, catches the glimmer of self-depreciation within those beautiful eyes. It is such a familiar sensation to him that it almost hurts to realise that all this time you have been feeling this way and he has never noticed it until now. Hatori beats himself up silently over it later that night, disappointed and angry at himself that he has never known about your own low self-worth. You, the person that he wishes to cherish the most on this planet.

🐉​It doesn't matter that he thinks of himself as unworthy of love. After all the memories he has stolen and lives of fellow Zodiac members that he has ruined as a result of his abilities he deserves all the guilt and the loneliness. You on the other hand have done nothing wrong in your life. In Hatori's eyes you are just a joy to the world and to the people around you so he can't even fathom why you would believe yourself to be not deserving of love. It just hurts to see how you continue to tell yourself that no one can ever love you and it pushes Hatori to grow slightly more overbearing. He feels the need to help you see yourself in the same way that he sees you, tries to discover what is the root of those self-dismissive thoughts. Insults that friends jokingly direct at you or questions that your family asks you in regards to your lovelife are suddenly met with an air of defensiveness from Hatori's side as his heart grows more sensitive on your behalf, worried that even such words could only hurt you secretively more. There is an increase in affection that Hatori gives you, not enough to be counted as overbearing but definitely enough for you to react confused and somewhat worried.

Kamo Choso

🩸​Choso struggles immensely at the beginning of his obsession. It is a lot for him. He has just recently been reborn in a vessel, thrown into a world unfamiliar and strange to him yet he has been on the front lines from the very beginning. The only anchor he has is his younger brother Itadori as the young boy is the only family that Choso has left in this world now. He is familiar with brotherly love yet when you stride into his life, he doesn't understand what he is feeling. Your gentle smile has his heart pounding, your voice has his head buzzing pleasantly and whenever you touch him gently and ask him if he's alright his ears turn red. Initially Choso almost believes that he is sick yet not only does he have to almost immediately rule this possibility out as he is not a human but he also notices that you are the trigger of all of these symptoms. Yet instead of seeking a cure Choso finds himself actively seeking you out, longing for more of those strange sensations that only you can eilicit out of him. He wishes to protect you very much like he wishes to protect his brother yet there is something more that he wants and it is that something that has him struggling. He doesn't know what it is.

🩸​Choso adapts though, albeit slowly, to the world that he has been thrown into. Adapting means realising what it is he is feeling from the information he picks up around him. The moment Choso can name what he is feeling for you and knows what it implies on a basic level, he starts courting you. It is far from your average prince in a fairy tale but it is adorable in its own rights. Flowers that he buys for you and hands you with softly spoken words, warm hands that cling to you whenever you are close and adoring eyes that cannot separate from you whenevr you are within his view. Unable to understand fully what you mean when he overhears that the two of you are only friends, the sharp pain doesn't strike his heart until later when he grasps the meaning behind them. Choso is everything but subtle about it either as he asks you what it is that he has been doing wrong, begging for advice on what he can do better so that he may become your significant other and protect you from everything and everyone. He struggles to understand what your words mean as you merely tell him that he is probably just being confused right now and his first assumption is simply that there must be someone behind this.

🩸​Protecting his loved ones has so far almost meant defending them from physical threats. This is not something he can fight using his powers though. This is a burden that you carry within your heart and unable to figure out how to help you kills Choso on the inside. In his eyes you are the most beautiful person in the world, someone who doesn't deserve to have any harm ever be directed your way. It is a constant tug of war game that happens within his heart as in some moments he swears that there has to be someone responsible for your feelings and that he just has to hunt that someone down and in the next moment he can only be overwhelmed by anxiety as he wonders what he could do better to help you and that he isn't doing enough. The intentions to help you and comfort you come from a pure place but Choso only knows how to express them in the most overwhelming ways possible. He glues himself to your hips and starts showering you in affection and love, praying that it'll help your wounded heart. Every word that is spoken to you and that Choso interprets as an insult to you can end deadly for the culprit if you aren't there to stop him.

Canute

👑​What could possibly be more sweet than you, a maid who works closely for the king? Freshly employed with an optimism that is still settled within reality, you take your duties seriously as you look out for the king and always make sure that he too gets his rest. Canute tends to get lost in the burden of a king, sees hallucinations of his own father who mocks him for how the crown has poisoned him too. In such moments you almost appear like an angel, your mere presence silencing his father's voice like the light does the darkness at the beginning of a new day. As cruel as Canute tends to be and as much as you sometimes condemn him for the cruelty that he directs against the innocent people, you have also witnessed the side of him that he is unable to expose to those who obey him. Heavy is the crown after all and perhaps in order to be respected and to not be betrayed he just needs to be feared by others. Sometimes you think of the crown decorating his head as a cage and so you decide to do what you can do as a mere humble maid to give Canute some brief moments of peace where he too can enjoy being a human free of all burden and expectations.

👑​Never have you ever expected something in return. It is your duty after all to serve Canute to the fullest of your abilities and you are aware of the vast differences between the two of you as he is a king and you only a humble servant. Still, unaware to your own eyes you have started to catch his interest. Care and attention can go a long way after all and though Canute may not openly admit it, he does appreciate every little thing that you do for him. Especially since he knows that you don't do it with any backhanded motives in mind. You do not wish for any affection directed your way or for any rewards, you do it because you wish to treat him nicely. It is a quality that could be easily stepped on as kindness is something that he has forgone in favor of achieving his goal yet within you it is rightly placed. It starts very subtly with praises given to you when the two of you are alone, words you humbly reject every single time. Then Canute starts asking you for any wishes that you may have, for physical treasures you may desire yet instead you always request for help for your family or your friends as there is nothing that you desire to receive from him. You are humble. Far too humble.

👑​It is a shame that you sell yourself so short, especially since it is a king who pries for your affection and love. Honestly, Canute is unsure if he should feel amused or somewhat offended by your constant rejections of his indirect courtings as you do not believe yourself as worthy to be loved by him. His words are final so all Canute would have to do is to demand from you to become his lover yet it is exactly because he has the luxury of that option that he decides against it. This is a matter of personal pride now to see just how he can be able to infiltrate your heart enough for you to love him and to seek him out than the other way around. It doesn't go unnoticed by the people surrounding him how he constantly keeps you around even when there is no need for your services at the moment and rumors quickly start spreading. Canute mostly ignores them until someone badmouths you in which case the king is quick and merciless to silence anyone who dares to insult you in his face. You can scarcely remember when you were able to stray from Canute's side and visit your family and friends yet whenever you ask him that question he merely lets you know that he still needs your services.

Gauche Adlai

🪞​In comparison to most other first meetings that Gauche had, he must say that the one between him and you is far more pleasant. That is only because you are introduced to him as someone who greatly cares for his little sister Marie and who looks out for her. Marie's fondness for you adds to the good impression even if there is a twinge of jealousy whenever she talks so much about you. However, he stops pretty soon with those jealous glares whenever you only reply with a smile or immediately walk over and ask him what is wrong, unfaced by the ill-mannered attitude that puts so many others off. Unable to handle that sheer amount of kindness and afraid to be called a meanie by his little sister, Gauche stops quickly with those dark looks. You speak highly of Marie whenever Gauche visits as you know that he is often busy as a Magic Knight which is why you decide to tell him little stories of Marie and obviously he listens, his chest growing with pride whenever you speak of something she accomplished. He is a little bit strange but you still tell him that you think of him as a good human, something he denies as he averts his eyes, his heart suddenly pounding within his chest.

🪞​At one point conversations aren't just about Marie anymore. Suddenly Gauche starts showing an interest in you as well and though you often try to guide the discussion back to Marie, that only works for so long until Gauche insists weirdly intensely that he wants to know more about you. So you see yourself unable to reject him as you hesitantly reveal bits about your own life. Presents that used to be solely for Marie are suddenly split up as you too start receiving gifts from Gauche. At the beginning you always tried to reject them but Gauche is awfully persistent and far too seriously until he has successfully tired you out and you just silently accept everything. The drama starts anew whenever he visits and realises that you aren't wearing any of the clothes or accessories that he has bought you, his gaze so displeased and offended that you often hurry back home to put on new clothes. The nosebleed that he gets every time worries you and it doesn't stop, especially when you stand far too close and press the tissue against his nose. He starts dragging you along with Marie every time he visits, especially once Marie asks you to accompany the two of them.

🪞​He finds out through Marie one day about your thoughts and feelings as the girl approached you to ask what you think of her brother as his own feelings have been glaringly obvious for a while now. Gauche, with no thoughts of being considerate, approaches you soon after and asks you if you are truly feeling like you do not deserve love, specifically his love. Far too blunt and harsh with his choice of words and his heavy stare, you are unable to answer that question properly as you instead scurry away. Normally Gauche would have stopped you but in that moment Theresa is watching and he knows that she would immediately stop him if he were to chase after you. This is far from over though. Gauche is very possessive, all the more since it isn't easy for someone to even reach the importance he would usually only give his little sister. The main reason why he can rest somewhat easy is simply because he knows you wouldn't accept it if anyone else were to confess to you besides him though obviously he would be quick to threaten all possible competition. Needless to say though, he is going to get you to be his one way or another and he isn't necessarily shy of using force.

Jinx

𝄞Perhaps you are the little bit of sweetness that someone like Jinx has always needed in her life. She is in the firm belief that people are always going to abandon and betray her, even her own mind constantly lets her down as she is haunted by voiced and faces of the past. Essentially Jinx feels like there is no one that she can trust, not even herself. That all seems to change when she bumps into you though. Within the chaotic life of the Undercity you seem to be so out of place. You're kind, honest and far from the type who would backstab anybody. This is why it is somewhat hard for Jinx to initially believe that you are truly as gentle and kind as you seem to be, especially once you direct that warm attention at her. She isn't used to such open care and love, at least not since Vi left her all by herself. She has never forgotten the pain of being left by the person she thought would stay by her side and love her no matter what though which is why she constantly asks you for reassurance if you are being honest with her. You always tell her that you are but that doesn't have to mean that you truly mean those words. She would know best after all as her older sister promised her the exact same thing.

𝄞Nevertheless, as your presence becomes a constant in her life, Jinx starts to actively seek you out. Random knocks on your window in the middle of the night or her suddenly bursting through your frontdoor. There is always that subtle tension in her body that melts the moment you greet her with that sweet smile as if she came to your house in the fear that you wouldn't be there anymore. Whenever she is bothered, whenever the past catches up to her and she feels her chest tighten Jinx always comes to you without a fail. The voices don't go away and they probably never fully will but you provide her with a comfort and stability that makes everything more bearable. There have been admittedly times where she accidentally hurt you when she was in the throes of the voices and faces assaulting her but even then you always stayed with her. It is when she witnesses this, how you still stay even when she is at her lowest and even hurts you, that Jinx decides that she wants to believe that you are different and that you are never going to leave her. This is how the delusional tendencies start and this is how she cranks up her affection to a 12, her clinginess undeniable as she even crawls into your bed with you.

𝄞The emotions that you feel and the thoughts that you harbor are things that she struggles to process and understand. Not because she struggles with the concept of emotions but because she is too emotional for her to be rational and calm. All that Jinx hears is that you do not want her which clashes with her newly adopted delusional tendencies as you are meant to be the one person who is never going to betray her. In a impulsive outburst so typical for her she ends up abducting you on the spot as you wake up tied to a chair with Jinx pretty much placed on your lap, muttering and talking to herself and the voices that once again have come to haunt her which is why she has searched for sanctuary on your lap. When she notices that you are awake she asks you if you feel sorry for what you have told her earlier, rejecting her love for you, and only once you nod does she remove the tape covering your mouth. Almost immediately she demands of you to apologise to her now though since your words were quite hurtful for her. Safe to say, you aren't going anywhere anytime soon. No, instead you will have to mend the cracks within Jinx's delusional thoughts. Be careful with your words from now on.

[clara-a7]

No Exit || Franco Colapinto⁴³

彡PAIRING ; franco colapinto x fem!reader

彡WARNINGS ; angst, past relationship, romantic tension, emotional confrontation

彡SUMMARY ; you run into your ex franco at the paddock in monaco

彡WORDS ; 850

彡DISCLAIMER ; Everything written here is FICTITIOUS.

彡AUTHOR'S NOTE ; sorry if here are any mistakes, english isn't my first language!

You hadn’t expected to see him. But.

Sure, you knew he’d be there. Franco Colapinto was back in Formula 1, having stepped into Jack Doohan’s seat earlier in the season.

Monaco was one of the biggest weekends on the calendar everyone showed up. It was wishful thinking to believe the paddock was big enough to hide from someone who once made your heart feel like it was caving in on itself, as if your ribs were too small to contain everything he made you feel.

You adjusted your sunglasses, a flimsy shield between you and reality, reminding yourself why you were here for the weekend, for the view, for the roar of engines. Not for him.

And yet, the moment still blindsided you.

“Y/N?”

You froze. That voice. You’d know it anywhere. His accent still wrapped around your name, soft and Spanish and painfully familiar. You turned slowly.

“Franco.”

He looked exactly like Monaco wanted him to: tanned, sunlit, just a little too charming in his Alpine team polo. He hadn’t changed much maybe his jawline was sharper, and his eyes a little more tired but he was still him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, walking toward you like nothing had ever happened. Like you weren’t carrying the weight of everything he left behind.

You cleared your throat, caught off guard by how easily he slipped back into your space. His closeness, his casual tone it rattled you more than you wanted to admit.

“A friend got me a paddock pass,” you said, fidgeting with the strap around your neck as if it could tether you to the ground.

“A friend…?” he repeated, one eyebrow arching slightly. Then, softer, “Of course.”

There was something in his voice. Not jealousy, exactly. But something bitter, tinged with something that felt like regret.

You looked away, hiding behind your sunglasses, unsure if you were more annoyed at him or yourself for still caring what he thought.

You didn’t respond. Not because there was nothing to say, but because saying anything might unravel everything.

“How long are you in Monaco?” he asked, breaking the silence again like the first breach hadn’t already cracked something inside you.

You turned to him, your voice cold beneath the summer sun. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Talk to me like I’m just some old friend you happened to bump into. Like we didn’t have a whole story behind us.”

He blinked, thrown off by the shift. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Didn’t you?” you asked, tilting your head. “Because that’s exactly what it felt like. Like we didn’t have history. Like you didn’t leave without a word without answers.”

Franco’s jaw tensed, the charm slipping. “You think I forgot?”

“No,” you said quietly. “I think you buried it. That’s not the same thing.”

He frowned. “What does that even mean? How can you be so sure?”

“I see your story,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Pretty girls sticking to you like you’re some kind of prize.”

He stiffened. “You think that means I didn’t care about you?”

“I think it means you moved on,” you replied, voice flat. “Fast. Like we never happened.”

His mouth opened to reply, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“And maybe that’s all it was,” you added, your voice softer now, barely above a whisper. “Maybe I was stupid to think it meant more. But don’t look at me like you’re surprised I’m not smiling.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. He looked like he wanted to say something, to fight back, to explain. But the words didn’t come. Or maybe he just knew they wouldn’t be enough.

“I didn’t post those story to hurt you,” he said eventually.

“No,” you said, and your voice cracked just a little. “You posted them because you didn’t even think of me. And that’s worse.”

Silence settled between you again, thick and suffocating. The world moved on around you cameras flashing, voices chattering but you were both locked in a moment that refused to move forward or backward.

Franco let out a long breath. “I was a jerk.”

You didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong.

“But when I saw you just now,” he continued, “everything I tried to forget hit me all at once. I knew I couldn’t just walk past you.”

The honesty in his voice landed like a blow, raw and unexpected.

“I hate that I still care,” you murmured.

“I hate that I gave you a reason not to,” he replied.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. There was too much, and not enough space for it all.

You didn’t know what this was. A second chance? A scar opening all over again?

But Franco looked at you differently now like he didn’t want to get it wrong this time. Like maybe he’d finally learned what it meant to lose something real.

“I’m here until Monday,” he said, steady now. “But I’ll stay longer if you want. We can talk. Or not. Dinner, a walk.... whatever you want.”

You didn’t answer right away.

But your heart did.

✿彡did you enjoy this? comments, likes, and reblogs are immensely appreciatedミ✿

© clara-a7 - all rights reserved.

[burb-ie]

So in tfa, Warframes and Civilframes (civilian) are separate frametype categories essentially. Most Warframes went to the Decepticons (hence why they are all automatically considered "dangerous" whether they are actually Decepticon or not) while the Autobots are made up mostly by civilframes. It seems to be implied that any and all warframe mechs on cybertron after the war and the autobots seized control were reformatted into civilframes (for example, Drift was reformatted and a mech called "powerglide" who doesn't have a flight based altmode despite what his name suggests are referenced in the Allspark Almanac). Basically; (and this isn't exactly completely canon, just what seems to be generally accepted by the fandom)

Warframe: any mech with a weapon or artillery based alt-mode (tank, fighter jet, gun, etc.), or a mech with built in heavy weapons. These mechs are typically larger, stronger, and built with heavier armor than their civilian counterparts.

Civilframe: mechs with commercial vehicle or utility alt-modes (car, truck, microscope, etc.) and do not possess built in weapons. These mechs are the most common and are smaller, faster, and lighter than their warframe counterparts.

There does seem to be an exception though; flightframes are a bit different. Most commercial flightframes are shuttles or large aircrafts which would fit closer with warframe traits despite lacking built in weapons, while military grade flightframes, like Jets and helicopters, are usually smaller and lightweight to make up for speed and agility in flight. But that isn't to say there aren't small, lightweight, commercial flyers or big, heavy weapons, flyers. Due to these discrepancies, the Autobots have deemed that there are to be No Flightframes among their ranks. (With the exception of the Jettwins, but you'll probably get to them later if you haven't already)

That being said, yes, TFP Optimus would absolutely be a warframe by these standards. And while it may not be strictly implicit, there is absolutely a version of functionalism and caste system in post war Autobot society in TFA, albeit, far more subtle and not explicitly referenced as such. Likely even unbeknownst to TFA Team Prime, but TFP Optimus will notice. I think the longer he stays in TFA, the more he'll dislike Autobot (or rather High Council/Senate) controlled Cybertron.

Oh my god thank you so much for explaining this to me, you're awesome!

Yeah TFP Optimus would most DEFINITELY be considered a war frame, and I feel like distrust would be worse given how he keeps his jetpack in this crossover

A flying artillery of weapons, exactly the perfect description of a Decepticon

And while OP wont be aware of the caste system of tfa for all of season one and half of season two because he wouldn't exactly be himself

Once he actually gets a closer look at this world's Cybertron's system of running things around he's gonna take a VERY deep breath

Then start punching the wall

Because WHY can't they leave racism behind in any universe, what is wrong with you people, if youre still gonna implement a caste system even post war then why even have a war in the first place, they're just gonna make history repeat itself and he can see it coming with his own eyes with the events going on around him with Megatron returning and stuff

Bro can't retire in peace

Can't have shit in detroit

(btw if anyone wants to share more tfa facts that im unaware of my inbox is open wide for all of you, ENLIGHTEN ME, i love learning more plus it helps me not to make mistakes in the future)

[kirkenovak]

Oh so just thought of John scenario so delicious. So angsty. So full of potential.

We know that pre-serum John is considered to be in peak human condition. Three Medals off Honor (unheard of), faster, stronger, better than any other soldier in US Army, with body so perfect it was studied by MIT. Easy choice for a new Cap. But it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Some random guy from Georgia being a human version of Steve Rogers? What? How?

That’s because he’s Steve Rogers’ biological son.

Somehow.

I have no idea but who cares. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What matters is that Steve had one kid and one kid only and had to send him away to protect him, and now Steve is dead and John is alive. Things get weird. And deliciously angsty.

No matter which way you take it, it’s just chock full with drama. It’s own little multiverse of pain for everyone involved.

Would Sam and Bucky be suddenly wrecked with guilt over how they treated John - the only son of a dear friend who sacrificed so much to keep that kid safe. Does biological essentialism trumps friendship? Is John worthy of the shield based on genes? What would the public do if they found out, would they suddenly decide that clearly John should be Captain America after all.

Would they try to reach out to John all of a sudden, would they suddenly decide he’s a friend? Would John be happy? Would he felt betrayed after finding out why they wanted to be friends- not because they saw value in him but in his blood. Or would they resent him even more? What if one felt one way or the other different and that caused a rift?

But what about John’s child? The grandson of Steve Rogers? Would people suddenly want to get their hands on him? Would Olivia have to go into hiding with him, far away, somewhere even John wouldn’t know about? Risk to never see them again? Would the history repeat itself - Steve had to hide his child and never knew what became of him, is John going to have to do the same thing? Is Steve’s blood just cursed like that.

And if Bucky was in love with Steve? If he’s in love with John? If he was in love with both? Oh you think the Peggy and Sharon thing was complicated? You sweet summer child, you ain’t see complicated yet.

Because Voidwalker is Life, Voidwalker is Love - John Walker can be queer, but Captain America’s son? Jesus, dude, what would your father say, go back to your wife who doesn’t want you. Bob going from being the cute one, sad lil boy with sad lil past, too good for this relationship, to some filthy famefucker clearly in this for the gold. Oh they were together before they found out? That sad lil addict, possibly ex-sex worker, rubbing his hands with glee like a fly on manure. Kid hit the jackpot, poor John is clearly too infatuated to see he’s too good for him.

But what if someone knew about John all along and made sure he’s always surrounded by agents, by spies. The Hoskins, so kind to take in a kid with a messed up upbringing, just another set of spies. Lemar just doing his job. Make sure he picks up the shield, make sure he takes the serum. Just another day at the office.

And why would anyone ever find out anyway? Maybe whomever finds out - a friend… someone John thinks is a friend - decides to keep it a secret. Nothing good can come from people knowing, from John knowing. But John finds out anyway.

What I’m saying is… yeah. Yeah. See my vision, subscribe to my newsletter.

[whatifitookalilnap]

Korra: ugh, how am I so pathetic? First I fall in love with some ridiculous bender guy that would never have worked out, then I fall in love with a beautiful Fire Nation woman so out of my league it hurts! Why can't I just be lucky in love?

Korra: *shoves her head in a pillow and screams*

Kyoshi, in the spirit world: wow, history really does repeat itself

[freeluigihesbae]

𝒊'𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

(6,689 words)

UPDATED NOTE: this fix does NOT use ANY rape/non-con elements so if your conclusion of this fic includes any elements of that, you are entirely incorrect.

summary:

you lost luigi in an accident years ago and finally, you've gotten over him. today, you found yourself falling in love with someone else after several wonderful dates and hangouts with him. with anatole.

you should've known that the lack of a body isn't equal to the absence of its spirit.

𝗍𝗐: 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇!𝗅𝗎𝗂𝗀𝗂, 𝖽𝗈𝗆!𝗅𝗎𝗂𝗀𝗂, 𝗌𝗎𝖻!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋/𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒, 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍!𝖼𝗇𝖼, 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗆, 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏 (𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽), 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 (𝖿! 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀), 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇' 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖽 𝗂𝗀

"Hello?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"You were listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Luigi Mangione. We're calling with some tragic news from the Pasadena State Police Department."

"What?"

"We're sorry to tell you he's passed away in a multi-vehicle car accident. We'll need you to come down and identify the body."

"He can't be gone. He can't be please tell me you have the wrong person plea-"

"We're sorry ma'am. An officer is on their way to escort you down. We offer our sincere condolences."

~

The architecture is rich and flamboyant with the egos of the hundreds, if not thousands of individuals who have visited the restaurant. The thousands who have flaunted laughs backed by riches.

But tonight, the richness didn't lie in the fact that your date had brought you to one of the most expensive restaurants in Pasadena. Rather, it was the moments worth counting in seconds that had built into an empire of affection between the two of you.

Anatole, your date, made you swoon the day you met. He was from Greece and previously, was an avid traveler who settled in California, studying to become a philosophy and history professor. He was smart, studying beyond his years and receiving academic accolades like no other.

It was hard, but you had to admit to yourself that in so many ways, Anatole had reminded you of Luigi, who you'd lost in an accident four years ago. It was a turn of events that broke the happiness you would tread upon, because he was a major part of it. The truth shattered you for two years and took you to the doormats of several therapy offices who only seemed to repeat a script written to numb, not cure the pain.

It was a pain that needed more than words. It was a pain that required a rough, painstakingly slow process of self-healing where you sat, for the two years after that, gluing together what remained of your sanity and growing it in protected quarters until the cracks disappeared and you were whole again.

When you met Anatole, his curly hair and dark locks made that picture flash again and it took months for you to differentiate the reasons why you loved him. No matter how many nights you spent trying to push it away, the truth was ugly, bubbling up to the surface to present itself like it was never tainted by your fingers trying to push it down: he looked like Luigi. He was like Luigi.

And you missed Luigi.

You still took the time to have dates with Anatole because, to his credit, there was merit in his accent, the way he spoke, the things he talked about, the way his smile bloomed with dimples on the side, the way his arms circled around your waist and for a second, never felt cold.

It was all perfect and soon, the blatant truth of Anatole being a symbol of Luigi started to fade until it didn't. You'd come back from dates feeling suffocated, like someone had their hand around your neck. Or other times, you'd feel like you were being watched by twelve pairs of eyes, judging you and whispering how dare you in tantalizing, irritating voices. You remember the days you'd spent hunching over and quietly chanting prayers that it would all go away. It would, until you forgot they happened and they came back to remind you those sensations never left. A perpetual cycle, of sorts.

Since you were stuck there, you got used to the perpetual cycle and accepted it as a normal part of grieving. Perhaps, this is what grief was like for those who had their love torn away from them because of the worst cards fate had dealt them. A young, blooming love severed painfully enough that you felt a connection alive with the person who was actually dead.

In a way, it was like you were slowly dying too.

Still, you lived with it, having everything above read and feel like the side effects to what really only was a medicine.

You could never replace Luigi.

But you still tried.

~

"Fuck, the gods have nothing on you." Anatole is looking down, gripping your waist hard as you buried your head in the crook of his neck.

"Stop, Anatole please you flatter me too much." You're smiling into his skin and in drives him even more insane.

"Keep it up and I might do more than just dance in front of all of these people." Your head shoots up because you realize that, oh, you're not alone. There were a couple other dates and couples dancing with you, swaying to the piano, violin, and beautifully arranged jazz emitting through the atmosphere. The music was drawing out the desire in you both, making the words you both never dared to say step closer to the opening of your lips.

"What if I wanted you to?" You tease him back, retreating from shock and drawing a finger down his chest, staring into his dark, hazelnut eyes.

"I'd say no." Anatole smirks at you, and your eyebrows furrow.

"You don't love me, hm?" You ask, biting your lip while you frown.

"I do. That's why I'd take us inside a room where I could break you to pieces and put them back together without anyone else knowing." His words are teetering on the outer-edge of your ear, his breath hot and heavy as you shiver slightly. Your body shakes a little as you whimper and it prompts him to tighten his grip.

"You like that baby?" You take a few steps back while holding his outstretched arm before he ropes you back in, now your back pressing against his chest.

You sway lightly, letting your head tip back as you confess a quiet yes.

His fingers come up ever-so-slightly and tip your neck farther back, eliciting a painfully quiet whimper.

"When I'm not with you," Anatole is talking into your ear now, teasing you with the tip of his tongue dragging itself inconspicuously, "I feel like a thin line lost in a canvas of paint strokes." You gasp, and your eyes widen when you realize it was from a poem that you wrote.

A poem that you had only ever shared with Luigi.

You freeze your movements, tightening the hands you have around Anatole. Your breathing increases and your eyes flutter as you try to make peace with the reality you just heard.

"How do you know that line?" You don't dare turn around, lightly swaying to blend into the crowd.

You don't get an answer but rather a simple line.

"Don't look back. Walk towards the room we have upstairs and I'll confess to everything." Anatole speaks in your ear and suddenly, it feel like someone is tearing and slicing your heart into pieces. You can't help but stumble a bit, but Anatole's hand catches you before you fall.

You heed his words, not looking behind you. For some reason, it seemed wise to listen and look ahead.

You knew that if you look back, you'd see Anatole, but you'd see him through the eyes that he was an attempt to replace Luigi. Your dirty secret, that you'd stayed with Anatole because you still hadn't gotten over Luigi would scream at you in the form of Anatole's being and you were not ready to face it.

You kept walking because you hoped this was all a misunderstanding and that Anatole was just a damn good poet and something of a soulmate from your past life.

The walk feels treacherous because you know Anatole is behind you. You feel scared because a vulnerable side to you was now exposed. He knew something you didn't even though you realized this through a secret you did know. The entire situation flowed like a paradox, threatening to steal your breath and deprive you of healing if it was dared to be interrupted.

For some reason, the closer you got to the room, the more vivid the image of Anatole pulling a knife from his belt became more vivid. Something more...sinister was presenting itself in your mind, manifesting itself through your shaky steps and the peculiar way Anatole had said absolutely nothing.

Rather, he stalked behind you as you felt like you'd die if you stepped an inch further.

You didn't, and that's why it was so haunting.

"Open the door." Anatole commands you firmly and you visibly shiver this time, feeling so on-edge and uncomfortable you want to dart and run.

Your hands reach to take the key from your purse and the closer you get to the zip of your purse, the harder it was to stop the drops of salty tears that wanted to escape from your eyes. Yet, you somehow manage it, letting your index and middle finger slide in and out with the key card.

What does opening the door represent? You stare at the paint on it, taking note of how it's slowly wearing off despite the management touting they kept note of anything in degradation no matter the degree. You see a black, presumably sticky tar-like substance peeping through the space between the hinges.

Not everything is held together as well as one says it is.

That's why opening the door was so difficult. Because now, you had to admit that this was true about yourself.

So you do what makes the most rational and emotional sense.

You run.

You slip out of your heels within seconds and start dashing down the hallway, sobbing as you heard Anatole's footsteps behind you without any voice or any words.

Why was he chasing you without yelling your name? Why wasn't he asking you what was wrong and screaming for you to come back?

Why was it just hard, terrifying thuds chasing after you?

After what seems like an eternity, you reach the end of the hallway and throw open the door to the stairs before scurrying farther and farther down the staircase, still wary of the steps that were coming down behind you.

Still, Anatole hasn't said a single word but you can tell he's gaining ground.

"Anatole you're fucking scaring me say SOMETHING!" Your voice becomes high pitched as you speak through harrowing sobs that strain against your throat. You babble out words and phrases, incoherent before you trip and hit a wall in front of you.

It's not a wall.

It's a body.

You push yourself back and yet, land on the ground before you're looking up and to your horror, it's Luigi.

The man who should be dead.

Within a second, you've long forgotten Anatole's footsteps that were hankering after you as your breath gets caught in your throat and tears squeeze themselves out of your eyes painfully. Your eyes widen to the point that trying to close them seems wrong.

"N-No no no no I'm dreaming- DON'T!" Luigi is stepping closer towards you, towering over you like it was his second nature.

He stares at you, eyes blank and rid of any and all emotion. Your hands comes up to hug yourself as you're swallowing your own saliva over and over again, sobbing and pleading that his figure stays away.

"I c-can't I can't I-I-I-" and suddenly, the footsteps that were running after you come back and you scream when it stops, halting right behind you.

You look up and there he is.

Luigi.

You're not sure anymore whether you've alive at this point. Maybe this is an extended dream and it's going on for too long.

"NO NO NO!" You scramble back while Luigi takes another step down and you turn your head to where Luigi was initially standing and...

there's no-one there.

"Oh my fucking god I'm going insane-" You start shivering and letting sounds slips between your lips, crouching down onto the floor and folding yourself into a fetal position, utterly and ridiculously terrified that what you're dealing with is beyond comprehension and unworthy of being deemed reality.

You sob and sob, painfully aware that Luigi, or a figure of him, is standing there, watching you with what you assume are darkening eyes because the air around you seems to be more and more haunting, threatening to choke you.

A hand suddenly comes down to touch you and you scream bloody murder, but it's soft.

Beautifully, utterly soft. And it's tracing a delicate path up the curves of your body and terrifyingly, you feel your back straightening itself out, as though you're a flower, brainwashed by a contaminated nature to bloom despite your being not wanting to.

You feel your neck tilt back on the floor, horrified that any of it is happening without your own consent.

"I'm not here to hurt you." Luigi speaks and that voice, in all the horror of the moment, is so soothing you realize.

Anatole's voice had sounded exactly the same. When you were both dancing and swaying to the music, even when you retracted your head from his neck in shock of his bold statement, you failed to notice the absence of his accent.

He was speaking in Luigi's voice and you were so sickeningly in love with Anatole for being a near copy of Luigi, you let it slip. That means the man you were dancing with wasn't Anatole.

It was Luigi in disguise.

Luigi's hand, or rather, his finger reaches the junction of your jaw and ear, pressing harder and placing pressure in small circles. You try to move your hands to pull him away, but you can't. They're limp, yet, frozen in place. You turn your eyes and realize that both of Luigi's hands are still at his side.

But you feel something on you.

You want to scream again and melt away from the terror of the moment, but instead, you find yourself moaning in tears, the circles he's pressing into you provoking pleasure you hadn't felt in so long, you're at the mercy of saying yes or yes.

Your lips part, whimpers and moans escaping without a sign of stopping as your eyes flutter close. For just a moment, your mind drowns in the memories of years and months of nights where Luigi had done just the same, pressing his fingers into the same weak spot and watching your eyes. He'd watch the way you looking back at him, but so drunk in the guilty pleasure of losing control and that he'd do it more and listen to the weak, breathy answers you'd give to his questions.

And so, you muster the same now.

"Lu-" Your voice is breathy as your eyes are rolling, the pressure keeping the same consistency. "You n-need to st-" Your voice trails off into a breathy ah which becomes dust in the sounds that continue to come from your mouth.

"What was that baby? Lu? Luigi? The man you actually love?" Luigi asks this sweetly and you turn your eyes towards him and watch him smile, his teeth gracing your vision as you feel your cheeks smile, desperate to enjoy his beautiful face before you feel something choke you.

Your back arches and you scramble to pull it off, only to find nothing is there and his hands are still at his sides.

"Luigi? The man you tried to fucking replace?" Luigi is snickering now, bending down and sitting his knees closer to your hopeless body.

You make sounds you didn't know you were capable of, moans that are stringy and drawn out while tightly woven into gags and rings of struggle that you watch Luigi basking in, breathing in and running his hands through his hair.

And finally, it all stops. The sensations stop, the choking stops, and you can move your body again.

It takes a second, but you take full advantage, launching yourself back into the wall when you realize what just happened.

But Luigi has other plans, this time truly using his hands and dragging you underneath his kneeling body and ripping your dainty, skin-tight dress into two as you yelp, covering your mouth with your hands.

He stares into your eyes and you realize your upper torso is beneath his legs as you stare up at him from his groin, all the way up to his face tilted down to stare at you.

To stare down upon you.

"You're not going anywhere. Because I never went anywhere for all these years." Luigi tears away at the fabric of your dress that was still on your body, leaving you bare with the sad excuse of the skimpy yet strangely classy lingerie you had chosen for the night. His hands suddenly come down onto your stomach and you gasp because they're ice cold.

Like they'd come out of a freezer.

You hear Luigi groans are he runs his hand around your waist, watching you squirm and twist in every and all directions because of how crude the temperature felt on your skin.

"You were always sensitive to temperature baby. I love watching you shiver and squirm under me." His voice is steady, a stark contrast to the stability your body was unable to exercise. You knew this was wrong, that it was fucked up and a product of some sick, warped reality.

Perhaps, one last attempt at sticking to what guided you through life might work.

"L-Luigi p-please stop I can't d-do this," You gasp when his cold fingers now return to the small junction at your neck, where the sensation had previously been, and you start to whimper, sighs and moans mixed together which are forcing themselves from your lips. "Th-This isn't right, oh, I'm in l-love with s-someone else." You start panting as his other hand is palm down pressed into your stomach, quivering at the sensation.

"Is that what you say to the man you loved that came back from the dead?" Luigi hand circles your neck, pulling you up with a steadily increasing force and pull. "I came back to love you again and that's what you say baby?" His voice sounds angrier, and you can feel it by the way he presses harder, cutting off your airflow. His fingers also grip your hips, making the protruding bones ache.

"Fuckin' answer me." Luigi takes his hand off and slaps your face, a harsh sound resounding through the staircase that has been forgotten to you. As a precaution, he slaps you again. You yelp and nod your head.

"No, no, no-" "Then why are you nodding?" He questions you and you realize he's right. You're saying two different things even though you meant to say no. You gave up. He was right. You missed him. You found parts of him in Anatole and in truth, you could care less about what happened to that man because Luigi's hands were all over you again and that's all you wanted.

"'M sorry Lu I shouldn't be so mmean-" Luigi's fingers dip into and out of your mouth within seconds as he lets you finish the word, but they go right back in, taking swipes at the back of your throat and incredulously, you don't choke.

It's like you've been taking his fingers this entire time.

"That's right baby. And," He stops, ripping apart the black, lacy bra that was giving you a half of the sanity you had left, watching your hands fly to cover your breasts. He doesn't relent, pulling off both with ease before giving one a hard slap. "I'd forgive you, perhaps, but you just had to and be a slut." He ends his words with a spiteful tone, forcing your jaw open before spitting inside and giving your face another slap.

"Swallow."

You do, panting at the shame of being so exposed and the shock of seeing Luigi in front of you.

"You had to try and fuck other men. You had to fuck other men to cope with the grief. What happened to your-" He turns you around to put you face down, paying no heed to your whines and winces and your cheek, smushed onto the icy floor. Your hands are at either sides of your head, gripping onto the air like it was a bedsheet.

"Values?" His hand comes down with heavy force right onto your ass, sending you forward and trying to escape his arms, but his grip is so perfectly settled you only wither in his touch.

"Modesty?" Another spank and this time, you gurgle out a moan, thanks to the copious amount of saliva stuck in your throat from the sobs you let out earlier. He slaps you on the same cheek before you hear his belt unbuckling and your eyes widen.

A small zip of a sound is heard before he's talking again.

"Hands. Behind your back." He says and you look back at him, letting out a cry and the way his eyes are intent and horrifyingly focused. For a second, you get scared.

"N-No get away from me I-" But it's the wrong move, because his hand comes up, threading into your hair and pulling it back with a cruel, unrelenting force. "You fuckin' listen to me. If you say no one more time I'm gonna drill my fuckin' cock into without any prep and you're gonna take the pain for what you've done to me for four-" He slaps a side of your face closest to him.

"fuckin'-" Another slap, but harder.

"YEARS." He screams the word out and lets go of your head before pulling both of your hands and settling them on the small of your back himself, listening to you moan at the sick pleasure of what he'd done.

His belt is rough, circling around your wrists and without hesitation, he tugs are hard as he can before securing it and dropping the pair.

A spank comes landing.

"What were the two words I asked you before you said no to me?" His voice sounds like it's breaking and you realize he's in tears. You turn to face him but he pushes your face the other side before you stammer them out. "Values 'n m-modesty." You answer and he gives your ass an affirming squeeze.

"Yeah, tell me what happened to 'em. Tell me how you hurt me all these years." He flips you back over and pulls your last piece of protection down, sliding it away from your feet and finally, you're absolute bare in front of him. His lips come and lick a stripe up your cunt which is already wet, soaking for him to hurt you.

"L-Lu I never meant to hurt- oh." You immediately respond to the way his tongue laps at the sensitive bud, feeling his fingers pull back the hood to get greater access. His lips are puckering and swirling around as you're arching up and pressing down, allowing yourself to get lost in the pleasure.

He stops and harshly slaps you between your legs. You, in return, reward him with a sob.

"Tell me right fuckin' now in fact-" He straightens himself and pulls you closer as you ignore the textured floor digging into your back with every second you slide. He eventually grabs your ankles, hiking them over his shoulders before he raises his eyebrows.

"Ah, wearing my anklet I see." You wish the floor could swallow you whole because it's true. It is Luigi's anklet that you wore every time Anatole fucked you, telling him everything but the fact that Luigi had made you wear it the first time he ate you out. "Y-Yeah Lu." You stutter and Luigi smiles a little, a smug intention hidden behind his handsome features.

His lips press at the clasp of the anklet, trailing down your calf and thigh before his lips are breathing over the spot you need him to touch.

"You're going to lay there and take whatever I give you. In the process, you're going to tell me everything you went through - the lengths you've gone to try and forget me and the night you felt like someone was choking you and someone was watching you and you're going to cry and smile and show me every single part of you that's been hiding the secret that every man you tried to love was only a fragment of me. You're going to tell me how you missed me. And if you stop, I will too and I'll never ever come back." Luigi doesn't give you a moment to react before his lips latch onto your cunt, biting and licking the nub as you stretch and bend you neck dangerously far back. "Start talking." He slap the side of your thigh while speaking into your lips, making the vibrations shoot your arousal up even more.

"I-I-I met Anatole 'n the first thing- person I thought uh-" You let tears run down your face before you suck in a breath and continue, pushed by his eyes giving you a glare. "Of was y-you and I'd remember how you're so s-smart and you t-told me 'bout everything I know and he'd do the same ah ah ah-" "I'd think o-of you whenever he f-fucked me and called me a p-pretty girl b-because no- ugh fuck - no-one can do me the way y-you do-" and you want to keep going, but his tongue is working wonders as you feel yourself getting closer.

"That's not the entire story. Tell me how used to feel after your dates." He pauses before going back to eating you out, licking every sensitive patch of skin he possibly can. You dig your fingers into your palm, cursing at how they're behind your back and not in his hair.

"Sometimes I'd feel like ngh there was a hand around my-my neck choking m-me as a punishment-" Luigi slips a finger in while, now taking his lips away and making you whine, but in retaliation, he slips in a second and you see colors in front of your eyes.

"Keep fucking going." He enunciates his words with a harder thrust of his fingers which get the words tumbling out of your lips.

"I'd try stop it but n-nothing would be there and s-somet-times I'd feel like I was bein' watched 'cause I was trying to forget y-you and and and-" your voice gets higher in pitched as he speed up. "'N I didn't mean it Lu I didn't know what to do oh please baby I always felt so-so b-bad oh oh oh ngh please-" Your back is arched farther up than it should, prompting Luigi to slide his free hand over your stomach before pulling on a breast and squeezing it in his hand.

And squeezing hard. You feel a sob erupt again as you're shouting, begging for him to stop and trying to pull your body away from his grasp but it only tightens and you cry harder, hiccupping.

"You know why you felt that way, baby?" He lets go before squeezing the other breast and watching you flail your head and body side to side, only curling his fingers to watch your mouth go agape. "It was all me. It was all me torturing that pretty mind-" His fingers leave your breast and snake past your lips. "It was me making those cries fall from your pretty lips when you were running your hands all over your body during a nice, hot shower." His fingers go deeper into your mouth as he taps it inside, signaling for you to suck on them which you obey, increasing your own pace in line with your approaching orgasm.

"I was the fuckin' one watching the way you smiled when another man was treating you the way I did and I fuckin." He thrusts once, hard enough to make your body shake. "Hated it. You're not gonna cum." He pulls his fingers out and the neediest, sluttiest whine escapes past your lips, prompting him to get up and circle his hand around your neck.

He doesn't need to say it, because you know what to do when you see his pants coming off, black and rich, sliding down his legs as you situate yourself on your knees, panting and gulping down feverishly. You lick your lips before you find the courage to ask.

"C-Can I touch myself while I-" He cuts you off with a slap before roughly grabbing your face and digging his tongue in, drinking in all your sounds as you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Not yet baby. Not until you show me why you deserve any pleasure tonight." He frees his cock, letting it jump before sliding the first few inches down your throat and waiting a few seconds before slamming your head down to take it all in.

"'M gonna hold it there but anyways-" He watches you gurgle around his cock, eyes widening in different variation before he starts talking. "Sometimes, I used to sleep next to you in your bed without letting you see. When you moved around on the bed, I'd shift in the sheets. There were times I even touched you baby," he pulls out and lets you breathe, watching as your glossy eyes stared up into his. Luigi lets a finger sit under your chin as your lips are parted, waiting to see what he says.

"I'd watch your body shiver and turn, as I snaked a few fingers across your stomach," and he bends down to do the same, "and then to your neck," his finger reaches your neck and he takes it all away before grabbing you hair and slamming himself back into your throat, rocking his hips at a painful rate, "before I took my hands away because I fuckin' loved you and wouldn't do that to you, but now," he moans out your name, hips stuttering as your throat has adjusted to his length like second nature, giving him the satisfaction of squelches and noises that drive him over the edge.

"Now, I c-can't find it in me to care if I'm hurtin' ya or not 'cause you were a fuckin' slut and I'm gonna make you take whatever I f'ckin give you bitch-" He slows down, enunciating his thrusts harder before he finally lets go, cumming down your throat. He pulls out and watches you cough, choke, sliding to the floor and hunching over in defeat of how exhausted you are. You didn't have your hands to help you and that meant your head, face, and hair were used like objects.

And oh, you loved and love it.

"On your back." He pushes you onto your back and you wince, your hands digging into the middle but he doesn't care, slapping the inside of your thigh to signal that you should widen them, but you don't.

You don't because you still haven't recovered.

"Lu, baby j-jus' give me a minute-" "You had four years to be a slut and tonight, I'm gonna remind that you're always gonna be my fuckin'-" He slides past the wetness of your cunt, letting a hand rub your clit and watching strained noises come out of your mouth and you wiggle against the restraint holding your arms together.

"My fuckin' slut my fuckin' slut." And he does. He claims you, pushing his entire length inside before grabbing your body like a feather and ramming it into his, watching your breasts shake with every thrust. He bends down expertly, licking stripes on your breastbone before biting and sucking hickeys into your plush, untouched skin.

"I love you 'n you're always gonna be mine. From now on," He sucks particularly hard before you moan out his name and he smiles. "Every date you go on, I'll be watching. When you come back, you know what you're getting. If you don't though-" He stops his assault, stilling his hips and watching you pant, trying to grind yourself down on his cock but he has you anchored in place, before slapping your clit.

You arch and sob while listening to his next words.

"If you stop going on those dates, I'll never touch you again. I'll never fuck you because you deserve to let those men touch you so you're reminded every time you come back to me that you are a slutty fucking traitor." He resumes his thrusts, fucking into you like the day was ending seconds away from that moment. The speed is so unbelievable that you let your eyes roll to the back of your head, accepting whatever he gave. "I fuckin' love when you take what I give you f-fuckin' love when you give up 'n lay limp like a fuckin' r-rag doll god baby-" You're clenching around him, chasing your own orgasm but in it all, you ask him the burning question.

"L-Lu who was dancing with m-me fuck fuck fuck before I came up to my room? Y-You?" You ask him, desperate to get an answer because you had realized the body was Anatole's looks but the voice was Luigi's when the line from your poem resounded in your ear.

Luigi, somehow, goes even faster, turning you onto your side while pressing your neck and getting an even better angle for the spot inside.

"B-Baby I'm glad you asked b-because-" He moans as his head lolls back, devouring the pleasuring of your cunt clenching around his wet, moist length. "G-Gonna cum L-Lu c-can I-" "Cum for me. Fuckin' s-slut." And you let go, the tip of him hitting your sensitive bundle of nerves as your mewl around him when he refuses to stop.

Your eyes widen as he continues to drill into you.

"L-Lu-" "Remember what I said. Say no and I'll leave you." He continues his ministrations and at this point, you're wailing from both pain and pleasure, struggling against the belt that is now digging into your wrists.

"T-To answer your question, all 'ah this was a lie. Your fuckin' man wasn't real." His hips finally still as he's groaning, cumming into you and you moan too, feeling his fluid fill your cunt.

"F-Fuck." You breathe out and he pulls his length out slowly, watching the cum coat you and drip out, slowly because of its viscosity.

He takes his thumb, swiping at any excess cum and fucking it back into you a few times.

"Keep me inside your pussy baby." He pulls away, standing up to wear his pants and you fumble over your words, tears again threatening your eyes.

"W-What do you mean it was all a lie, Lu?" Your voice is shaky as he flips you around and loosens the belt, only to wear it and leave you hanging. He stops before stepping back and roughly turning your head towards his.

"I'll answer that question for you. It was all your imagination. Good timing or else, you would have never woken up."

~

You're gasping for air as the sounds of chatter and footsteps surround you.

The cool railings coat your clammy hands as your blink, making sense of your surroundings as a hand comes to cup your face.

"SHE'S AWAKE!" The voice is screaming and you physically jolt, falling back onto the bed beneath you.

But you turn your head, looking down and wondering why you're in a bed before you realize your body was covered in a thin layer of a gown.

A hospital gown. The pattern is a dead give-away before you finally see the world around and fuck, you're in a hospital room.

Your eyes widen as you turn your head to look at the voice that was beside you, kissing your head and stretching your skin in anxiety to see your mother, smothering you with love.

"You're awake my angel is alive I knew you'd-" "What?" You say a word and you watch others in the room stand up, in shock that you're awake and speaking.

"What-What even happened?" Your voice is strained and screeching, unable to keep a consistent, level tone.

Your mother is sobbing, while you recognize your father clasping his arms around her and crying quietly too. He lets go before walking over and brushing a hand over your head.

"Coma. Four years my sweet baby four years no-one had you." His head dips as he settles on your shoulder, sobbing in relief that you were awake.

Everything seems like a whirlwind from there as you greet your family, all of them hysterical and indefinitely relieved that you are awake but still, the pieces aren't clicking together until the piece comes walking in the door.

"Oh my god." You hear a voice in the doorway of the room muttering the words before you realize.

It's Luigi.

But he's not mean. He's panting, sweating over his body and his eyes are red before he's rushing over to you and while you were frozen, you immediately shoot up and reciprocate his kiss. His lips are sweet and considerate as they capture yours, eager to make-up for the year he hadn't been able to call you his and listen to you say yes back.

"Oh my god baby you-you were gone f-for years-" He cuts himself off before his lips are diving into yours again and his hands snake around the back to your nape, delicately holding you as you responded with equal vigor.

You realize everyone has left the room and it's just the two of you alone before you finally get the words out.

"Luigi, what happened I-I need to know." You plead with him as he's shaking his head, fat tears running down his face.

"You attempted suicide when I got into an accident. They told you I was dead and you jumped off of a building before the officer could bring you down to identify me. You don't remember?" His voice is crestfallen, heartbroken in fear you might forget him too. You shake your head.

"I-I only remember getting the call that you were g-gone nothing a-after how did they-they-" You're overwhelmed with emotions, staring up at him with glossy eyes. He cups you with both hands now, staring down and speaking.

"I was in a coma too y-you know for a few months. Woke up and luckily had all my memory intact and they d-did a few surgeries but it all felt like nothing when I saw you-you like this?" He ends his sentence with a question before sobbing, his forehead touching yours.

He finally pulls away, wiping away his tears before doing so with yours and drying your face, only to bend down and give another wet kiss on your forehead.

"I-I lived a life away from this reality Lu. Four years I built an entire life in my head." You say, stammering and in shock once all the memories, real and created come rushing back to you. The way he fucked you. Anatole. Everything.

Lu's eyebrows furrow.

"What do you mean? What life?" He seems a bit angry and concerned, a conglomeration of emotions in his face.

"I-I had my own house and I was in a relationship after you were gone-"

"What?"

You're still looking at Luigi, but now his face is purely filled with anger and spite, contorted into a face that seems all too familiar.

A face that Luigi had when he ruining you before you woke up.

"Lu-"

"When I wasn't with you, I felt like a thin line lost in a canvas of paint strokes." Luigi stands up, staring down at you as his hand ghosts and presses down on your neck. Your eyes widen in horror as his hand loosens and a finger trails down, pulling the gown further down your chest, exposing your breasts.

You shake and gasp before you look down and you see hickeys littered all over your body. The same hickeys he left while fucking you in deep, desperate passion.

You look up at him.

"And because of that, I made you a canvas of my liking until this painting," he gestures to your entire body, "woke up and came to life." His finger returns to settle beneath your chin before he repeats himself.

"It was all your imagination. Good timing or else, you would have never woken up."

~

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@madkohi @poohkie90

[thebigbadbatswife]

Don't Take Her From Me

Pairing(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary - An explosion and a building collapse has Simon begging the universe to not take you from him as well.

Warnings - Major character injury, Blood, Description of injuries, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Established relationship, Potential miltary inaccuracies, Potential medical inaccuracies. (If I missed anything, lmk!)

A/N - First time attempting to write Simon since I became obsessed. Hope you all enjoy 💜

Word Count - 1.2k

Not her. Please. Fucking please. Not her.

Simon finds himself silently begging as he sprints toward the collapsed building. He ignores Soap yelling after him, ignores the chatter on comms and Price’s voice shouting an order that completely falls on deaf ears. His only focus is on finding you. Alive. He won’t accept it any other way.

The explosion took them all by surprise. He and Soap had finished clearing out one building and were getting ready to move onto the next when it happened. It took them all by surprise. The ear shattering noise as the ground shook beneath them and seeing the building collapse in on itself, kicking up a large cloud of dust that made it look like a sand storm had blown on in. It felt like all of it had happened in slow motion, right up until the moment that everything finally went still and silent.

Then he’s sprinting with only one thing racing through his mind.

You’re currently inside of that building.

He yells your callsign over the comms, but the only thing he gets back is the crackle of static. It doesn’t mean you’re dead. For all he knows your radio has short circuited or was damaged either by gun fire or even hit by debris as the building went down. A silent radio doesn’t mean you’re dead, he repeats to himself…

Unless you’re buried beneath all of that rubble. It could have killed you on impact or you’re trapped under there, slowly and painfully suffocating.

Please don’t let that be her fate. Just let her be okay. Just let me hold her again.

He doesn’t even know why he’s begging or who he is even trying to beg to. It’s not like any of his previous prayers were ever heard. Every word or thought falling onto deaf ears as everything is stripped away from him again. History repeating itself and all of that. In spite of all of that though, he continues to hold out hope. Simon refuses to write you off as dead and gone until he has your lifeless body as proof in his arms. And he really fucking hopes that doesn’t happen.

How can he carry on living if it does?

The dust is irritating his eyes, making them itch and burn. He blinks rapidly, causing tears to streak down his face as he does his best to try and clear them without actually reaching up to rub them. Which is impossible to do because of his mask. He yells your callsign again, ordering you to answer him or goddammit he will have you doing pushups for life. But like before all he receives back is static. All it does it make him even more frantic as he searches for you. If it comes down to it he will claw and dig through the rubble, tearing apart his gloves and skin, wearing himself down to the bone, just to find you.

Please don’t take her from me.

Through all the dust that still hangs in the air, continuing to limit his visibility, he starts to make out a silhouette ahead of him. Simon stops in his tracks, his grip tightening on his gun as he watches the figure closely as he reminds himself. While it could easily be you, he is still in the thick of enemy territory and it could just as easily be one of them instead. 

He takes a deep breath as he looks down his scope. His heart is hammering against his ribcage. He still can’t make the person out properly, but he can see the way that they stumble with each step and they’re clutching their arm. Even if they had been a threat at one point, they very clearly aren’t anymore. Still, he doesn’t move a muscle. Watching and waiting until the wind blows the dust, finally revealing the person ahead of him.

It’s you. 

Before he can think, his feet are already moving forward as he starts rushing toward you. You have been plastered white by the dust, the only bits of colour being the red from your injuries and your skin colour coming through the tear trails that streak down your cheeks. 

“Ghost?” you choke out. 

The sound of your voice and the sight of how injured you are has his heart cracking.

“I’m ‘ere. You’re safe,” he says. His hands come up to cup your face, eyes scanning your face and head, taking in the sight of your injuries. There’s blood coming down from your hairline and trailing down the side of your face, your bottom lip is split open and there are numerous scratches and scrapes on your face and neck. The worst of your injuries is the gash in your shoulder. Your clothing and gear is saturated with your own blood. It’s a fucking miracle you’re even able to stand right now. 

“This is Ghost. I need an immediate medical evac now!” He doesn’t waste a second shouldering his gun and scooping you up into his arms. He seriously doubts that you’re able to be stand any longer and he’s got to move quickly. “Johnny, need you to cover us.” 

”You’ve got it, L.T.”

Simon moves quickly, but carefully. Doing his best not to jostle you around too much while also keeping an eye for any threats. Though he trusts that Soap will see and dispatch them long before he sees them. 

“Keep your eyes open, Sergeant,” he orders you when he sees your eyelids starting to drift shut. Immediately your eyes open again, meeting his. Your brow creases, tears falling anew down your face as pain wracks your body. If his heart was cracked before, it’s absolutely shattered now. How badly he wishes that there was a way that he could take your injuries and the resulting pain away from you and give it himself instead. 

“Just a little bit further,” he tells you. The evac zone is in sight and the sounds of helicopter blades is deafening, but very much welcomed. 

Simon keeps you close to him the entire helicopter flight, your head resting on his lap while one of his hands plays with your hair. His other hand has hold of one of yours, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of it. Your injured arm has been immobilised and your shoulder has been packed. Throughout the flight you have just been staring at the ceiling of the helicopter. Your eyes are hazy and every once in a while your brow creases and you swallow thickly; along with new tears falling. Which he gently wipes away each time. He keeps up with playing with your hair and rubbing your hand, hoping that it will help soothe you until you’re in the hospital.

“Hey,” he says. For the first time since getting onto the helicopter, you look at him. He pulls up his mask just enough for his mouth to show and leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

He doesn’t need you reply because he already knows that you love him back. You tell him every chance that you get. And even now, your brain foggy from the agony you are in won’t even stop you. “Love you, Si.”

He smiles, his thumb gently sweeping over your cheekbone, wiping up another tear. 

Thank you for not taking her from me.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

idk man i have seen a lot of speculation about Illario being a better candidate for First Talon rather than Lucanis, how he wanted it more/would be better at it etc, that maybe it was just Caterina projecting her desires for her favorite daughter onto that daughter's son...

but honestly I get it. like in game we see that when he DIDN'T get what he wanted, Illario made some huge power moves (arranging the death of his only rival, allying with the Venatori, kidnapping Caterina, sacrificing Treviso's independence) despite the major consequences that came with them (losing his only "brother", giving another organization an in/power over the Crows, kidnapping fucking CATERINA, giving the gods/Venatori a stronger foothold in Antiva). We don't actually know why he wanted the title or what his plans would be as First Talon--was he really gonna be content to just be named as in charge? Or was he gonna wanna make further big moves and leave his mark, or go for an even greater degree of power? We don't get that answer in game, but I really don't think his ambition would just stop. In part because I do think his desire for the role was tied up in just wanting Caterina's approval as the "lesser" Dellamorte, and so he WOULD probably keep putting more and bigger things at risk as he fails to find satisfaction in the title alone. He has the potential to not only throw their House into chaos, but the entire Crow organization, which is so ingrained with Antiva that this could shake the very foundations of the nation itself.

Even if we look at it as "Illario is more like Caterina so she should prefer him", i mean, Caterina got almost her entire house slaughtered. She failed, actually, at being a great Talon to her own house because her family ended up almost entirely dead. While I'm sure there's non-related members of the house (at the very least, trusted staff for the Dellamorte estates, contract negotiators, the people in charge of payroll, etc), and possibly even other assassins (orphans or whoever), they make it really clear in the game + wigmaker job that the only two left besides her who matter are Lucanis and Illario.

So if we take the traits the traits he shares with Caterina, that would make Illario more suited to it than Lucanis--he wants the title, he likes being in charge, he desires more power and is willing to compromise other people's wellbeing to get it--well that all already didn't work once. Caterina got a rough awakening for her actions and reputation, but Illario has--what, exactly, to reign him in? He already tried to get rid of his own biggest emotional liability, with hiring Zara to kill Lucanis. He already kidnapped and imprisoned grandma, and was working on a deal to sell out the city. What's left to shake some sense into him after that? If she picks him, is she just letting history repeat, ensuring the few left die and House Dellamorte itself falls to pieces, to be lost to history?

I do think it's telling that it's after seeing how badly all Illario's schemes went down that Caterina makes her choice and officially passes on the title to Lucanis. As far as we know, she never actually said who she wanted for the role--only that there were rumors she favored Lucanis over Illario, from the one line in the Wigmaker Job. We only know Illario believes it, not if it was true. So I think it's very possible she was hesitating in part because she really hadn't decided.

One grandson craves power too much, the other not enough. One has the social skills and charm to get people to do what he wants, but uses it for personal gain--while the other is so closed-off and unwilling to form connections he has no one he trusts outside the family. Neither of them are good choices, pre-Veilguard, and so she doesn't name either heir and puts the problem off for later--and it's in this way, funnily, that Lucanis takes after her more, with his allergy to planning ahead/making choices.

And finally the choice DOES make itself for her: when left to what fate brings for them, Illario's coup falls apart and despite all his charm he's left with "allies" who are just waiting to stab him in the back themselves. Meanwhile, Lucanis has somehow managed to break out of his shell, has new companions he trusts who are shown to support him, and he has lost some of his paralyzing fear of taking action on his own. He finally IS the clearly better choice in this moment--even if he doesn't actually want it still. I do truly think despite his hesitations, with how he grows over Veilguard, he wouldn't actually be bad at the job with some time to adjust. So while I certainly have my share of criticisms of the writing/spaces in Lucanis' personal quests, and just how cartoonishly villainous the game makes Illario to be, I don't think it's unrealistic that this is the moment when Caterina passes on the mantle of First Talon.

And I think Illario is a more interesting character when we keep in his desperation for power and approval, and where this could eventually lead post-Veilguard as well. Even if Lucanis decides "actually I am not subjecting myself to this" and promotes Illario in his place, is getting the title secondhand as a cast off really going to be satisfying to him? Even if he gets friends and his brother or even a lover afterward, how many times is it going to take before he believes it's real and not just something else he's going to have snatched away? For me personally I think the really interesting potential here is less in Fixing Him and more about just how many times he can bite the hands trying to feed him in a row. He's a very messy character and that's the part that's juciest to me.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Time travel to save the galaxy !! But the time traveler in question is Din Djarin and he notices literally nothing at all and subsequently does nothing to actually save the galaxy.

Every time he's faced with something that SHOULD be a give away that he's time traveled he just goes "Huh that's kind of weird. Anyways."

Nothing can shake or distract him bc he will always default to assuming things are weird and different in the core worlds and clearly he's just uneducated is all 👍

(Not that he cares to actually educate himself)

In the end the Empire wins out again and Din finally fucking looks at a news forecast for the first time this entire adventure and goes,

"Woah. Crazy how history is doomed to repeat itself, huh? Kind of fucked up tho." And the random guy he was drinking next to is like "what" and Din is like "what" And then Din shoots him bc he was a bounty. And then he proceeds in with his life for the next ?? Amount of years, continuing not to notice a single thing wrong in the universe bc why the hell would he. If/when he finally notices he also has NO idea when it actually happened. Could have time traveled yesterday, he wouldn't know (it was 5 years ago now)