#and like. am i even allowed to have this happen to me. like hes so nice JDJDJJDJDMZMZM

[iid-smile]

★ — usage

content — nagi seishiro x fem!reader, continuation from this post, hurt no comfort, angst, nagi is a piece of s###, like he's bad, nagi insults the reader quite a bit, some profanity, break up

wc — 1.5k

a/n — this is kinda rushed oopsies 🙈 also these a little surprise at the end !

two hours have passed. two hours of hearing nagi's stupid nintendo 3ds, two hours of hearing those same stupid theme songs over and over, and two hours of dread continuously pouring into your heart.

you've tried sniffling to get his attention. nothing. not even a glance to see if you're crying or not. you've tried getting up and going into another room. the sound of shuffling makes you think he's getting up to check on you, only to realise that he's turned from one side to the other on the bedsheets. call it toxic to fake your emotions, but it's way worse to not care whatsoever about what your partner is feeling.

all you needed to do was talk, right? and then this would be over. you'd get over it, and things would go back to normal.

but what can you say? what could you say without tearing up midway through? you could bring up today, or yesterday, or what's happened months ago, if you really wanted to. there's only been one thing repeating in your mind over and over, and that's what he's said two hours ago.

"sei." no response. "sei." and still. "seishiro." you beg for him to say something. out of frustration, you snatch his 3ds from his hands.

a soft gasp escapes him as he groggily stretches out for his device, his hand just inches away from it —exactly where you wanted him to be. for a moment, his eyes remain fixated on the screen, the sounds of the device ringing in his ears, but gradually, nagi drags his gaze up to find yours. "hey... i was usin' that..." normally, you would relish hearing his sleepy voice on a lazy day, but today... today was something different.

"and i'm trying to talk to you, so will you just—" he shifts his gaze, his eyes drifting elsewhere, leaving an air of unspoken tension between you. determined to bridge the gap, you subtly inch closer to his still figure, your heart racing as you attempt to keep him within your line of sight, hungry for a connection that feels just out of reach. "just listen to me. please?" pathetic, having to ask to be listened to.

"mm..." he mumbles.

"you're not—"

"i am."

with a sigh, your shoulders drop. "okay." that's not okay. you shouldn't allow that to happen. swallowing down the knot bubbling in your throat, you continue to speak. "what did you mean when you said you hated me?"

"i never said that." he's lying right through his teeth. either that, or he's managed to forget, to which you know he's not that stupid.

you brush your teeth over your lower lip, holding back the urge to scream at him — scream whatever words come to mind. your arms are crossed, and your legs too. "then what did you say? be honest with me, because we both know that i heard exactly what you said."

"hm?" he attempts to pull off a clueless expression, but you see right through it. once more, nagi shies away from making eye contact. just when you think the truth might forever remain hidden, a flicker of honesty manages to break through the facade. "i said i used to hate you."

"you said you still maybe do."

"...oh?"

"don't 'oh' me. why did you say it?"

"i didn't mean it like that..."

you are filled with disbelief, your mind racing to comprehend the situation. a deep, simmering anger sizzles beneath the surface, clenching your fists as frustration takes hold, leaving you almost absolutely furious.

"what else could you have possibly meant?"

the only sound that filled the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the rapid thumping in your chest. not a word for five minutes.

for those agonizing five minutes, you turned your back on him, not daring to meet his gaze. you were all too familiar with his ways — the charm that masked his manipulative tactics, whether deliberate or not. it was a game he played expertly, and the last thing you wanted was to be drawn into his web of deceit.

yet somehow, he possesses an uncanny ability to captivate you, much like a moth irresistibly drawn to a flame. as you find yourself locked in a gaze with him, his eyes hold an intense yet disarming quality, radiating an expression that seems to shout, 'i’m innocent'.

their depth invites you in, while the softness of his gaze stirs a blend of curiosity and empathy within you, making it hard to look away. will you fall victim to it once again? "don't give me that look..." you mumble.

"baby..." nagi reaches out for you, his head now laid on your lap and his hands around your calves. he always does this, every time he doesn't know how to ask for forgiveness.

"no... sei, please don't." it's hard for you to push him away, caught between wanting to stay and the pain of your own feelings. seeing the frown on his face tugs at your heart's strings in such a way that shouldn't be possible. you can feel the weight of his grip, heavy yet comforting; it pulls at your emotions in a way that’s almost overwhelming. it's so painful to see him so...

...empty?

"seishiro." finally, you manage to position him in a way so that he's somewhat facing you. you take a deep breath in, slowly exhale out, and brush some hairs away from your face out of habit. "i need you to be honest, okay?"

he only nods.

stay calm, stay calm. you can't let him see how you're really feeling. "what do you think about me?"

"honestly?"

"honestly."

"you won't get mad?" uh oh. that seems like a bad sign. still, you push forward, needing the full truth more than anything. maybe you could fix your relationship, or in this case, maybe you could fix yourself.

"i—"

"you're annoying." he abruptly interrupts you, and your eyes widen in surprise. in that instant, it feels as though a dam that has been sealed for years has suddenly burst, unleashing a string of words that flow effortlessly from his lips. each sentence spills out with urgency, as if he can no longer hold back the thoughts that have been swirling inside him. "you talk too much, i hate listening to you talk and you don't know when to shut up."

you sit there and take every word as if you deserve it. you can't even breathe, just staring down at your shaky hands, now starting to become damp with tears.

"stop bothering me right after class, and stop trying to stop trying to hold my hand all the time. it makes me cringe having to tell everyone else you're my girlfriend. and quit calling my name whenever you watch me play. it's embarrassing."

with a trembling breath, your voice falters, cracking like fragile glass as you softly gather the courage to speak. "...don't you have something nice to say?"

"something nice? you're pretty... i guess..."

and that completely broke you.

for all these years, you believed your relationship was filled with trust, never once feeling a hint of doubt about him. you believed wholeheartedly that he liked your endless rambling filling up the silence, or your randomness, or the little quirks that just make you you.

but clearly, that's not the case. it never was.

with tears blurring your vision, you steeled yourself and carefully made your way through his apartment, memories flooding back with each step. you grabbed what little was yours: your phone, charger, and headphones, clinging to these small, faint tokens of familiarity as you prepared to leave. you even abandon the oversized jacket you wore on your way here, which was his.

the red flags, how did you not see them? they were so obvious, and you still chose to ignore them. because he had a pretty face? because he wants to be treated like a fucking baby? you're sure as hell not going to act like his mother, and your sure as hell not going to let him treat you like his other boy toy.

"i'm so done with you." you try to stifle a sniffle, but a couple of tears escape, tracing an unwelcome path down your face. as you fumble with your shoes, your fingers tremble, and you nearly lose your balance more than once, the world around you blurring with each shaky movement. "don't even think about calling me anymore. don't wanna hear your stupid voice anymore..."

not a single hint of protest escaped nagi's lips. he remained perfectly still, his gaze locked onto you as you finally slammed the door shut behind you.

it was embarrassing, having all of his neighbours and him listen to your sobs echo through the hallway as you approach the metal doors, pressing the button multiple times. the wait felt like torture, your body aching to approach his doorstep once more. you enter, your hand on autopilot as you reach for the button right at the bottom.

"why...?" you find yourself whispering to your own reflection in the elevator mirror, dabbing at the tears glistening on your cheeks with your shirt sleeve. "if you didn't like me in the first place, why couldn't you just say so?"

all you did was talk, right? and everything went back to normal. he was no longer in your life, and you weren't in his.

but is that really what you wanted?

yesterday at 16:19

im bored

playyyy

yesterday at 3:27

hey :x

can we talk plz?

today at 13:40

ar u ignoring me?

2 missed voice calls at 13:42

bllk m.list

[sha-biest]

SHA's Golden Future DTIYS [Art & Writing]

Close ups of Mikey

About 10 days ago I had the idea to host a DTIYS and even though I told myself it wouldn't happen anytime soon.. the idea struck and it wouldn't let me go. SO, here it is! One thing before everything else:

1st place: One handmade custom plushie made by me

More information about this DTIYS down below

I am aware that this is a rather challenging DTIYS but it was done so intentionally by me. (Trust me, I tortured myself too 🙃) HOWEVER. you are allowed to chose to draw only one segment of the whole piece and not every single one! You will however get more points for including all 3 parts of it. I will judge the pieces based on: • How many segments of the whole piece were drawn • Creativity (in what way was it changed from the original to emphasize your own style for example) • Colors (did you chose to use colors or is it black and white?) • Hands. I do accept written entries for this as well! I love reading and I don't want to exclude writers for this one should they decide they want to tackle this! You are allowed to use my art up top of the DTIYS to promote your writing!

If you want to participate be sure to @sha-biest and use the tag #GoldenFutureDTIYS Additionaly, let me know what YOU would like to get as a plushie! (don't worry, you don't have to stick to that decision should it change over the course of the DTIYS)

Deadline: 10th March 2025

More Info: • #GoldenFutureAU art tag • Written Story by Co-Creator @rosesofenvy (More about Mikey's mindscape and him unlocking his full mystic powers can be read in "Keep You Safe" especially within Chapter 4 and Chapter 8) • The Sun God's appearance here and here References:

Mikey's mindscape in Golden Future:

In the beginning he thought it was black water but it's actually black sand

He can dive into the sand and uncover "treasures" (parts of his mystic energy)

Diving down means no vision, sound or air gets through to him

He can uncover the mystic powers by pulling them up with his chains

Uncovering a "treasure" will turn that part of the desert golden

Disclaimer: • The plushie that can be won cannot be used to be reproduced and/or sold • The size of the plushie depends on the character chosen by the winner and by the package size I can send • I am by no means a professional plush maker so I do have the right to decline a character should I not be able to turn it into a plushie • Changes might need to be made to the chosen character for the plushie for more complicated details (I will provide sketches of possible versions) • Minors are permitted to participate, but only with the express permission of a guardian and limited correspondence if they win • You can chose to get a full illustration piece instead of a plushie should you win! (if you are too uncomfortable sharing your adress for example)

Plushie examples:

Questions can be send in via my ask box! I will try to compile them in here or give them a dtiyas specific tag! I'm curious what you guys come up with and most of all.. have fun! :D

PS: I will consider doing two first places (one for writing and one for art) depending on how many entries there are

[questions-within-questions]

Being a ranger I spend a lot of time alone in the wilderness for hours in the company of one of four co workers.

One such worker for the purpose of this post we shall refer to as Dave.

Dave is a very quiet man. He confesses that if conversation happens too quickly and for too long he gets tired so we often work in silence. He's very polite and good natured but it's obvious that he would happily live and work alone for the rest of his life given the option.

He's very much in the previous generation of ranger, a practical man in his fourties or fifties happy to be kept physically busy for a day and then be sent home with some pay. I had to show him how to use a work issued smart phone.

Meanwhile the rest of the team is made up of the current generation of rangers; openly nurodivergent queer women in their twenties or thirties who work this job because it's the only setting where we can vaguely look sane.

So Dave sticks out a bit. It's really nice when he opens up though because he's an impulsive individual when left to his own devices and has plenty of stories to tell if the mood takes him. I really like working with Dave.

Anyway, one day we've got a job that takes a three hour hike to get to and early on the topic of deer comes up.

I hadn't realised this was the first time we had discussed deer, but blatantly it was. Dave's entire demeanour changes, there's a bit of passion in his voice, but it's also hushed as if he's talking about something sacred.

"Deer are my favourite animal." He says.

I'm also eager to hear Dave talk about himself, so I encourage him to say more.

"I'd love to be a deer myself."

And more

"If a genie offered me the opportunity to become a deer I'd take it. I wouldn't even stop to ask what the price was."

And more

"Sometimes I feel like I'm a deer having a dream about being a human.*

And there I am, a long time commuter to the therian/otherkin community keeping up the encouraging face of someone being politely interested, knowing that this man is straight up a therian with no frame of reference.

And I decided that I wouldn't push the subject outside of the bounds of what Dave is comfortable with, I wouldn't try to teach him the terms "Therian" or "Otherkin" but absolutely I would talk with this man as if he's a deer.

And it's a bit magical really. He's an impulsive individual so I have to talk him out of some risky choices every so often and "this is why deer like you keep getting stuck in fences" has become this magical phrase that allows him to step down from a mistake with a bit of a smile on his face.

[queervegancryptid]

Seriously, academics and the like are flawed like the rest of us, so use critical thinking skills even when you're talking to an "expert" (obligatory disclaimer half because this is the internet and half because I majored in philosophy and am wont to quarrel about what exactly counts as an "expert" because my brain is wrong)

BUT

I promise that, in general, they will be very happy to talk about their work. Academics in particular, a lot of them I've known, don't get to pursue exactly what they want all the time. So when you engage with them on topics they actually have a background in, they sometimes forget how to act and infodump with the enthusiasm of your autistic friend who lights up talking about their special interests. All the ivory tower pretentious bullshit you sometimes have to cake onto yourself in that world, it can just crumble to dust with the force of their excitement about actually getting to talk about things that interest them rather than having to publish for publishing's sake or having to teach a course because someone in the department has to and it's their turn. (Seriously, I don't know if this is common knowledge, but that's actually how some departments run things: I taught the intro course last year, so it's so-and-so's turn next. See, for example, the dude who taught my intro to astronomy course. Lecture was a snoozefest. The planetarium and outdoor work? He was a different man. The final grades for the class had like a 40 point curve. It was kind of a mess. But it was cool when he actually wanted to be there.)

I used to say that was my favorite part of academia, but then I realized it's the main thing about that world that drew me in: I wanted a place where I would be expected and encouraged to explore in ways I wasn't allowed (or wasn't able, not having the resources and living in a small town) to do when I was a kid. It didn't work out the way I wanted it to, but that's a story for another post.

It's why I love libraries. There's a "bookmine" near me (I don't want to doxx myself naming it but DM me if you want and I'll elaborate) that I would fucking adore to roam for days and days. Or just nights. You know, sneak in and hide in this massive building full of books, wait for them to close and go home for the evening, and just go to town exploring various subjects. Also my partner would be there so we could gab to each other about our discoveries. I feel like a lot of people, academic types especially but not exclusively, can relate to this yearning to explore and share.

Don't feel like the only people worth talking to are folks with advanced degrees or prestigious titles, though. Academics can be easy to find relative to other kinds of experts, but good information can come from anybody. Not just somebody with an email address ending in edu. At the same time, beware of influencers and whatnot, obviously. Good information can come from anywhere, and the same is true of bad information. Someone saying things with a lot of confidence isn't necessarily telling you the truth and doesn't necessarily know what they're talking about.

Anyway. Send the email. I promise you're not bothering them by asking about the thing they literally got at least one advanced degree learning about on purpose (in the case of academics, but like I said, this can apply more broadly than that; read the room and shoot your shot, or whatever the kids are saying nowadays). I have a lot more to say about this and may even make a post to help people find experts in a given field of study and how to use responsible critical thinking skills and research methods more generally, especially if anybody expresses an interest in any of that. But I've babbled enough on somebody else's post lol I apologize and also it will happen again

Signed - your local autistic philosopher weirdo who just really really likes information and libraries and finding and exploring cool stuff and can't shut up about it sometimes

[inquisimer]

Arlow and Viago “can you hear my cry, an old lullaby drifting through the sky?” >:]

HELLO MY LOVE I am kissing you on the lips, I put that one on the list and was like "this is an arlow & viago prompt", thank you for reading my mind

Arlow de Riva & Viago | 808 words | for @dadrunkwriting - da4 spoilers, Viago ruminates (regrets?) Arlow's absence from Antiva

-

Viago missed Salle.

Not that the accommodations in Treviso were lacking—his apartments here were more than sufficient. But they were suffocating without Arlow there to fill the empty spaces where she usually was. He wished things were such that he could lock the door and flee to his villa in Salle.

But the Antaam remained. And he had no right to be missing Arlow, when he was the one who sent her away.

As she deserved, he reminded himself. If she had simply thought before launching herself at those Antaam, they would never have been in this situation. Yet, the ache in his throat remained.

Treviso’s skyline was bathed in the pink and orange hues of sunset. From the balcony, it was easy to imagine that the city was still theirs, and that Arlow would be tripping off a zip line any moment, reporting in on this contract or that surveillance. Smirking and insufferable, but alive and there.

“You’re brooding again.”

A Qunari war horn blasted Viago’s reminiscence to pieces. His fingers tightened on the railing. “I’m always brooding. You like it.”

Teia’s bare feet padded softly against the slats and Viago wrinkled his nose. Off the top of his head, there were half a dozen poisons easily concealed in wood stain and best absorbed through the skin. But she didn’t care about that—or, at least, she knew that he had the antidote for any toxin that could touch her only a whisper away.

“it is not half so attractive when you are truly troubled,” she murmured, propping herself as close to his side as she could without touching him. Her hair fell loose and unruly over the collar of his shirt. But even that only just hitched the melancholy tune of his thoughts. “You miss her.”

Viago huffed. “She is the most competent assassin in my House and we are under an occupation. It is like being without my best blades.”

“Do not pretend she is nothing more than a weapon to you,” Teia chided. “Lie to yourself, if you must, but do not lie to me.”

Viago’s nostrils flared, as they always did when Teia saw straight though him. He was learning to trust the tightrope she asked him to walk, but after a lifetime without a net, it was a hesitant process. Luckily for him, she had a penchant for hard cases.

“I have never sent her off for so long, nor so harshly,” he admitted. “And I do not know when she will return. It is… difficult.”

“You could know,” Teia suggested. “You could summon her back.”

“She has a contract.”

“And how will she know if she’s allowed to report in on it if you do not tell her that Antiva is open to her again?”

“You read my letter?” Viago raised a brow, but Teia’s smirk was unabashed. She shrugged and his gaze followed the fluid motion of her exposed collarbone.

“I wouldn’t have recommended leading with ‘idiot’, but she’s probably used to it.”

“If she wasn’t such an idiot all the time, she wouldn’t be,” Viago muttered. He looked down into the murky canal below and frowned. “She did not write back.”

Teia laughed, which only deepened his scowl. “Did you expect her to?”

“If the job was done, yes,” he snipped. “But it has been months.”

“And you sent her on an open-ended contract. I’m sure if anything drastic happened, Varric would write. That is why you hooked her up with him, no?”

Viago pursed his lips. “He has a track record of pulling asses out of fires. But I am not confident in his definition of drastic.”

“He is perfectly competent, as you well know. You’ve never let your conscience get in the way of logic before, don’t start now.” Teia laid her hand out, palm up on the railing. After a beat, Viago laced his gloved fingers with hers and she squeezed.

“If you want her back, Vi, you will have to face the other Talons and tell them so. Tell her so, in no uncertain terms. This is the corner you have painted yourself into.”

Viago glowered at the neighboring building. He hated few things as much as he hated Teia being right in a way that grated on his nerves. She could have at least done him the courtesy of acknowledging that he was not the only party at fault in this scenario.

“She will tell me when the job is done,” he said stubbornly. “When the job is done, and her lesson is learned, then we will bring her home.”

Teia sighed and shook her head. The sun slipped below the horizon and a familiar cloak of darkness covered them both. Covered Arlow, too, in the east. In Tevinter.

His throat tightened. Use it well, he thought. Use it well, and come home.

[the-raindeer-king]

If anyone so much gets a lil mean with teen!ghost I am throwing hands. So please continue

Someone mean to teen!Ghost.... so maybe I shouldn't drop this little blurb and run... (not part three, but enjoy this little blurb!)

You hadn't seen Simon all day, holed up in the med bay handling a rookie training course gone wrong. It's been a fucking nightmare, and you haven't even had time to think about Simon since you got to your station. All you can do is hope that one of 141 is keeping an eye on him.

That hope doesn't last long.

"WHO'S FUCKING SPOILED BRAT IS THIS?!"

The Lieutenant's voice cuts through the cacophony of the med bay like a clap of thunder. He's not even from your base, but visiting for a training course or something. You're not entirely sure, but what you do know is that over the last three days that he's been here, he's managed to solidify his reputation as an asshole.

You're halfway out of it, well used to working while spaced out, that you don't realize he's coming closer. Not until Simon crashes into your thankfully empty station, nearly knocking your setup over as he's roughly shoved into your station.

There's a cut on his forehead, right about his left eyebrow, and a bruise forming on his cheek.

"I didn't-

"Shut it!"

If you'd have turned around any faster, you might have broken the sound barrier. You whip around in your chair, shooting the Lieutenant a glare that a smarter man would've taken as a warning. The Lieutenant is not such a man.

"I caught this little miscreant snooping around Captain Price's office, and everyone said that he belongs to you," the Lieutenant sneers.

"I wasn't snooping!" Simon argues, his voice and body shaking with frustration. His hands clench into fists, and you can see the way his jaw clenches, the same way Ghost's does when he bites his tongue.

"I told you to shut up!" the Lieutenant roars, slamming his hand down onto your desk.

It's the way Simon flinches, eyes squeezed shut and body tense, ready for a blow that you personally won't allow to happen. He shrinks back from the Lieutenant, eyes darting between his assailant and the door, looking more like a scared animal than anything else.

Enough is enough.

"Lieutenant-"

"This is a goddamn military base, not some fucking playground! Keep an eye on this little bastard, or so help me God! You're lucky he didn't find anything important," the Lieutenant snaps at you, face red in his anger.

"Lieutenant," you begin again, doing your best to keep calm. Getting angry isn't going to help the situation, even if you'd rather knock the Lieutenant teeth out. "I'll be sure to let Captain Price know-"

"Good."

"-that you yelled at his nephew, as well as threatened and assaulted him."

You've never seen a man go so pale so quickly. All the redness of the Lieutenant's cheeks turns a splotchy white, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at the panic in his eyes.

"You what?" he squeaks out.

"I said I'll let Price know that you yelled at, assaulted, and shoved his darling nephew here," you reply, nodding towards Simon, who honestly looks like he might pass out any second now. Not that the Lieutenant looks any better.

While the Lieutenant has a reputation of being an asshole, Price has one of his own, and it's for being viciously protective of what he considers his. You've witness firsthand the way he handles the 141, and you've heard rumors of him punching other captains for just joking about taking his boys from him.

"No, that's... that's not necessary. I didn't- I wasn't -"

"Or should I tell him that you were manhandling the poor boy around the base? Making a spectacle out of an assumption you made?" You pause, letting the situation sink in. "You make these kinds of assumptions in the field?"

"I- I'm so sorry. I had no idea..."

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to him."

The Lieutenant turns to Simon, stuttering out a jumbled apologize. Simon glances towards you, clearly a little unsure what to do. But the power is in his court, and you give him a shrug in response. Whatever he chooses is his choice, and you'll respect it.

"Give me a twenty, and we won't tell," Simon says.

You have to fight back a laugh. It's wrong, but you don't discourage his behavior. It's so quintessential Ghost, and it makes you miss the man even more. Once the Lieutenant leaves, you motion Simon to come closer.

Simon shuffles closer, shoving the twenty into his pocket. "You can't have it," he huffs, and this time you don't hold back your laughter.

"Don't want it, sweetheart," you laugh in response, and it eases the ache when you catch him smile. You brush back the blonde hair on his forehead, giving yourself a better look at the cut on his eyebrow.

"That asshole," you grumble under your breath, turning away to get a band aid. As you turn back to him, your heart plummets to your stomach when Simon responds quietly, "It's not that bad. I've been through worse."

You stare at each other for a moment, the silence in the room deafening. Simon knows he shouldn't have said it too, based on the way his eyes widen. And you hate that you can't keep him safe, knowing he'll return back to the correct timeline eventually.

But while he's here, you'll do your best to make him feel loved.

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

you write "enemies to ____" SO WELL. and i've had an AU daydream stuck in my head for a month that is violet as a second year scribe pulled into the revolution bullshit first because jessinia and liam started banging, but mostly because of the suspicion of it all

Oh thank you!! That’s such a fun daydream. Unfortunately, I don’t actually ship Liam and Jesinia, so a full fic with them in it would kick my ass, but you should try your hand at it!!!

Have this drabble as inspo (620 ish words, canon compliant, set during IF part one except Xaden is there because I wanted him to be):

“It’s second year rider business, Jes. I’m sorry.”

Violet peeks her head around the archive’s shelving unit just long enough to watch Liam’s fingers move, then settle. She should retreat back to safety. She should prioritize not getting caught. But she needs to know what Jes says back.

“Last time you had ‘second year rider business,’” Jesinia retorts, hands moving so sharply, they recruit her arms and chest for emphasis, “you came back bloodied and bruised.”

Violet can just make out Liam’s sad smile over the top of Jesinia’s head. The sight of it—that private sweetness—is almost enough to make Violet want to hide back in the stacks. Instead, she settles for pulling her hood higher over her head. If Liam happens to look her way, he might not recognize her if her hair is tucked under the cream fabric.

“A different type of second year rider business,” Liam admits. Somehow, his body language conveys his guilt without any of the usual signifiers. His hands are heavier, his motions softer.

Violet needs to know what it means.

The worst part is, Violet actually likes Liam. He doesn’t have that typical aura of rider arrogance, and he’s so good to Jesinia. If only he wasn’t a liar. Then, he’d be perfect.

Violet fiddles with her hood once more, covering as much of her head as she can. She steps backward, meaning to hide herself behind the shelf once more. She’ll come face to face with her books, and she’ll find one to inconspicuously pull off the shelf. When Jesinia returns from her boyfriend, she’ll be none the wiser to Violet’s scheming, just as it should be.

But, as she spins to face the shelves, there are no books in her line of sight. Instead, her vision is filled with darkness, a black shirt on a broad black chest.

She tries to swallow down her gasp, but she’s too slow. He hears it, and he smirks, relishing her surprise.

“Eavesdropping, Violence?”

“Deserting your post, Riorson?”

His smirk stretches even further across his face at her accusation. Her hate for him flickers in her chest, a twin flame to her annoyance, her invigoration. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m here on dragon business.”

She crosses her arms. He is not in her archives on dragon business.

“Riders aren’t allowed this far back,” she counters, eyes narrowed on him.

He merely cocks his head. He enjoys her scrutiny, too. “Mairi’s back here.”

“Yes, well, we like Liam. He gets special privileges.”

He doesn’t, actually. Jesinia’s completely fucked if any of the other scribes catch on to her study-dates. Of course, Jesinia’s completely fucked in plenty of areas. If her boyfriend’s schemes involve Xaden Riorson, traitor’s son…

Violet can’t think about that when the man is right before her. It’s dangerous. She intuits that much from the sight of the swords on his back.

He plasters a hand on his chest. “You don’t like me, Violence? I’m hurt.”

She’s not sure why his teasing gets her, but it does. She rises onto her toes and slams a finger into his muscled chest.

“I know you’re up to something,” she hisses, “and I am going to find out what.”

His eyes take her in, appraising her in her scribe robes.

“I’m sure you will, Violence.” He steps back, out from under her finger, and nods at someone over her shoulder. Violet spins to find Liam and Jesinia, watching the show. Her cheeks flush pink. She’d rather look at Riorson, so she spins right back around. He’s still smirking at her, bastard that he is. She hears the smirk in his voice as he adds, “Be sure to let me know when you do.”

She watches him leave, Liam at his side. She is going to figure him out.

[neshamama]

trauma dump cuz i never knew how hard this topic was to work on and idk maybe i need to release this maybe i need the love idk..

i am talking about csa for the first time over the past month never told the story except once in counseling in college i kind of mentioned it. now i will ramble on idk why don't be mean or weird please. let me speak how life is?

17 years ago while walking to class. i was lost in my own thoughts and not paying attention so i blink and two teenage boys come running at me and slammed me to the ground. one of them climbed on me and violated me while the second boy pressed his hands over my mouth and nose, not allowing any oxygen. as i suffocated and tried to pry his hands off, he laughed at me. at some point in the struggle i realized, this is what dying feels like, i am dying, and this is my last moment and i have no time to do anything but accept it.

ok i was smothered but obv not to death. next thing i saw was them running again away from me. i had no idea what to do so i picked up the backpack that broke my fall then i went to class told NO ONE...for a time. i had never been touched like that. figured that was sex then. fucked that up for me too.

at 29 i talk about it to my therapist and somehow after all these years i have vivid flashbacks that disturb me throughout the day everyday. i leave the present and go to freakish places. i believe it's happening my body teems with the trauma response. like i need protection; i wrap my arms around my chest. i worry again i will die. new pcp gave me prazosin for nightmares which helps.

but what hurts the most talking about this to me is the mess of beliefs i took from it. is it normal to feel you will never be good? to face low self-esteem all the time and feel disgusting physically and socially and struggle with relationships and sex and agoraphobia and wanna give up i have tried really hard i want people to know THAT much and i am trying now on this like event from my childhood that i never healed. but now i guess my heart says it is time which i am glad to release the burden a little.

i feel even more for other survivors of csa and survivors of assault at any age and i love you..i know you can never hear it enough so i mean that i hope we can love ourselves too

[wabatle]

Would you be able to do a Lucifer from Obey Me request for some comfort for an MC who’s had a tough day? Just too many things happened all at once with no breaks in between the madness and they’re completely wiped out emotionally and emotionally charged from all the stupid things happening around their day? I’d love some comfort character for a rainy day which I feel like will be happening sooner rather than later.

𓆩⚝𓆪 — After a long day

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Warnings: touching but very fluffy, reader feels sick and just genuinely had a terrible day

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Contains: fluff, comfort ~0.8k wc

𓆩⚝𓆪 — A/N: I had a great time writing this ty for the request!! sorry it took so long omg this req was from october 😭

It’s been such a long day. You’re tired, utterly exhausted. You’re not even aware of how to explain why you feel like this, other than you, “just woke up on the wrong side of bed.” So many things have happened today. You had five tests today, still had to keep up promises you had made the day before, had constantly been smothered and overwhelmed by whichever brothers were around you at the time, and not only that, you’ve also felt sick the entire day since you’ve barely had enough time to eat or drink. You feel awful.

You finally arrived back at the HoL, but you didn't really feel like doing anything, let alone the stacks and stacks of homework you were sent home with.

You went straight to your room, throwing your things on the table and crashing down onto your bed. You rubbed your face with your hands.

You spent the next few minutes mindlessly doomscrolling on your D.D.D, until you were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“___? Are you in there?” It was Lucifer.

“Mhm,” you quietly breathed out.

“I’m coming in.” He replied, pushing the door open.

Without a word, he laid down beside you, your bed creaking as he did so. “What’s going on?” He asked you, gently grazing your cheek with his fingers.

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” You whispered, averting his gaze.

“That’s alright, just… let me know if you want to talk, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Is there anything I can do to try to distract you?” He asked.

“Um… Not really.”

“Do you want me to stay or go?”

“Stay. Please.”

“Of course.” He opened his arms, allowing you to relax comfortably in them. He gently stroked your head.

A few minutes passed, with nothing but tranquil silence until you spoke.

“It’s just… been a really long day.”

He waited until you were ready to speak again.

“Y’know, the five tests started it. And then your brothers were overwhelming me.”

He sighed heavily.

“And since I had to study during lunch, I didn't get to eat or drink. I feel really sick. And I'm on dinner duty tonight.”

“Mm.” He breathed, kissing your head. “I'll gladly help you with your homework,” he paused, kissing you once more, “and I'll make one of my brothers take over dinner duty for you. Since it's for you, I'm sure there won't be any complaints.”

You sighed. “Thank you.”

“If you want me to, I can speak with my brothers about their constant affection.”

“No, it's not necessary, it just… was a bad time, I guess.”

“That's understandable. That's happened to everyone once or twice before. Everything seems to fall on the wrong day.”

“Yeah, exactly.” You sighed once more, rubbing your face with your hands. “I'm tired, Luci.”

“I know,” he caressed your face. “I know. But you need to eat something, and make sure to drink some water.”

“Mhm.” You nodded.

He sighed, gently pulling you in for a chaste kiss. His hands remained on your cheeks. “___, please don't be afraid to ask for help.”

“I… I know. And I should've. I'm sorry.” You averted eye contact.

“Why are you apologizing to me? You should be apologizing to yourself.”

“Sorry, me,” you said sarcastically.

“Be serious.” He kissed you once more. “Make sure you go to bed early tonight. Just this once, take something from Belphegor. Though don't be like him every day.”

“I know.” You kissed his jaw, right under his ear. “Maybe you're right.”

“You know I am.”

You paused. “Um, Luci?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Could you, um… stay with me tonight?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t ever leave you alone, should you need me.”

“Thank you.”

“No need.” He smiled.

You smiled back, though it was soft and tired.

He sat up. “Shall we get something for you to drink?”

“I can still make dinner if you want.” You said, changing the subject.

“No, if you feel unwell, you should rest.”

“I know, but… I just feel obligated to.”

“Hm. Well, at least let me help you.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

After dinner, Lucifer helped you do your homework, and also tried (keyword tried) to talk with his brothers about their smothering. He offered you medicine to help your sick feeling, and did everything he could to make you feel as comfortable as possible before joining you in bed.

“How are you feeling?” He asked you, laying on his side to face you.

“Better.” You replied.

“Good. I’m glad. Is there anything, anything else I can do for you tonight?”

“Uh, no. I think I’m okay. Thank you, Lucifer.” “You’re welcome. I can’t deny I like to see you depending on me for something.”

You smiled gingerly. “That’s cute.”

“Uh-huh.” He replied sarcastically.

“Just know, you can always rely on me. I promise if anything ever goes wrong, I’ll do whatever I can to make it better. I love you, ___.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

𓆩⚝𓆪 — thank you for reading!

𓆩⚝𓆪 — taglist (ask 2 be added): none

𓆩⚝𓆪 — obey me masterlist

[d3athmaskd1v1n3]

Omg another Two-Face enjoyer yessss. Can I get some yandere hcs of him with a reader who dated him before the whole face scaring incident who still somewhat loves him. I’m totally so normal about him and definitely don’t want to smother his face with kisses.

You don't know how happy I am to get another Two-Face ask! The absolute hold this man has on my psyche recently is insane. I am honestly lovesick over them 🖤

I hope you enjoy this one. I was a little stumped on how to go about writing this one, but I tried my best to satisfy you all! (CW: Unhealthy relationships, controlling and possessive behavior, general yandere bullshit.)

Harvey was barely recognizable to you anymore. The polite, righteous man you love is still in there, but it's like he's been warped.

Ever since that fateful day where his face was burned, ever since he began his downward spiral into criminality, he's been a paranoid mess.

He's scared that another one of Gotham's many rogues may try to use you as a way to get to him, either by abducting you and holding you for ransom, or by doing something worse...

So he makes sure you don't leave the house, ordering a few of his men to guard the perimeters to ensure nobody breaks in and to make sure you don't sneak out.

Any complaints you have about these rules are usually met with "if you truly loved me, you'd understand why I have to do this."

You're not even allowed to answer the door unless it's him!

He constantly checks up on you via the phone, just to make sure you're okay. You'll be sent hundreds of texts a day.

As blatantly manipulative as that is, it does shut you up... given his fragile mental state, you don't want to give him any reasons to doubt your love for him.

Sometimes you reminisce about what your relationship was like before this mess. It was perfect... now it's suffocating. But you cannot bear to leave Harvey. Despite all that's happened, you still adore him.

[earthlybeam]

I was just rereading your “reader saves their life” stories, and it made me wonder about Legolas in that situation. Would you mind writing one for him? If you did, and I didn’t see it, I am so sorry to be a bother!

I don’t mind writing, it’s no bother to me so don’t worry 😉 but enjoy sweetie ✨🫶❤️‍🔥

how would the elves react to this?

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Legolas Versions below (I did two versions so enjoy) ✨🫶❤️‍🔥

✨🍃🏹 𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼 🏹🍃✨

𖧧 Almost Stabbed by an Orc in Mirkwood While patrolling the borders of Mirkwood, Legolas is caught off guard by an orc, who almost strikes him with a spear. The reader/you intervenes, knocking the spear aside and dispatching the orc just in time.

𖧧 The air in Mirkwood was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, the silence broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves. Legolas moved through the shadows with the grace of a predator, his eyes scanning the forest with practiced ease. His senses were honed to an extraordinary degree-nothing could escape his notice. Yet, even with his heightened awareness, a fleeting moment of calm distracted him as he caught sight of a deer moving through the trees. Its coat shimmered like silver under the moonlight, and for just a heartbeat, Legolas allowed himself to admire the beauty of it. But as quickly as the peace arrived, it vanished.

𖧧 A faint sound, barely perceptible, reached his ears—a disturbance in the stillness of the forest. Instinctively, Legolas snapped his head up, alert. His eyes darted to the shadows, every muscle in his body tensing. His trained ears caught the faintest whisper of movement, but it was too late. The orc emerged from the darkness with unnatural speed, its grotesque face twisted into a snarl, and the spear was raised high, aimed straight for him. The attack came so quickly that Legolas barely had time to react. The spear grazed his arm, and the force of the blow knocked him off balance. His hand instinctively reached for his bow, but it was too late to stop the strike. It seemed like the battle would end before it truly began, the orc poised for the killing blow. But then, in the blink of an eye, the situation changed.

𖧧 A blur of motion erupted from the darkness-you. With a swift and precise movement, you intercepted the orc's spear, knocking it aside with a sharp crack. The orc, unbalanced by your intervention, staggered back. You didn't hesitate. In one smooth motion, you dispatched the orc with a clean strike, the body collapsing to the ground in a heap. Legolas, still catching his breath from the narrow escape, turned to you. His wide eyes reflected a mixture of astonishment and profound gratitude. In that moment, he saw you for the first time, fully aware of the skill and timing that had saved him. His heart still raced, but the immediate danger had passed, leaving only the electric tension of the battle that had almost been lost.

𖧧 "You..." Legolas' voice was steady, though there was an undeniable hint of awe in his tone. His gaze softened as he looked at you, an unreadable expression in his eyes. He was still processing what had just happened-how someone had stepped in at the perfect moment, effortlessly shifting the course of the battle. "Your timing is impeccable. I could not have fought that orc off in time." You stood beside him, calm and collected as ever, while Legolas felt the adrenaline start to ebb from his body. His posture relaxed, though his admiration for you remained. His lips curled slightly into a small, grateful smirk, despite the tension still lingering in the air.

𖧧 "I owe you my thanks... and perhaps a little more than that," Legolas continued, his tone warm, his presence now more aware of yours than ever before. His eyes lingered on you, clearly captivated by your actions, the way you moved with such fluidity and skill, so unshaken even after such a close call. He brushed his hand over the cut on his arm, the pain already fading as his attention shifted back to you. The injury was minor, but the intensity of the moment lingered longer than the physical sting. He looked at you with a gaze full of admiration. You had been there for him, not just as a companion but as someone who was more than capable in the heat of battle. The suddenness of your intervention caught him off guard, but now he was left with nothing but gratitude and, perhaps, a growing sense of connection.

𖧧 "I had hoped to find peace in these woods tonight," Legolas mused softly, his voice low but with a touch of humor. "But I find it even more delightful when shared with such a... timely companion." There was a fleeting, almost imperceptible pause as he took another step closer to you. His presence seemed to draw in the space around him, his usual air of confidence tempered by the vulnerability of having been saved. The bond between you both, formed in the heat of battle, felt even more powerful in the quiet aftermath, a shared understanding of what it meant to fight side by side. In the dim moonlight, the forest around you seemed to recede, leaving only the two of you standing amidst the aftermath.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

𖧧 Hunted by a Pack of Wargs Legolas and the reader/you are pursued by a pack of wargs, and during the chase, Legolas is nearly caught. He is momentarily knocked from his horse, and one of the wargs is about to strike. The reader/you arrives just in time, cutting the warg down and pulling Legolas to his feet.

𖧧 The thundering of hooves echoed through the dense forest as Legolas urged his horse onward, his heart pounding in rhythm with the frantic galloping. The pack of wargs was relentless, their growls and snarls reverberating through the trees as they closed in, gaining ground with terrifying speed. The beasts were swift, their dark forms darting between the shadows, and despite his elven agility, Legolas knew they would not tire easily. He could hear the thundering behind him, a promise of death that echoed in his ears. His grip tightened on the reins, urging his horse to move faster, but he could sense the pack’s proximity—feel the air shift as they stalked, patient and deadly. It wasn’t just one or two of them; there were many. The sound of their paws on the earth was a growing chorus, each step a reminder that escape was a fleeting hope.

𖧧 The moment Legolas glanced over his shoulder, his sharp eyes caught the gleaming teeth of the closest warg—a massive beast, its yellow eyes locked onto him. It was a mistake. The warg surged forward, faster than he could have anticipated. Legolas’ horse, startled by the sudden movement, reared violently, throwing him off balance. His heart leapt into his throat as he tumbled from the saddle, hitting the ground with a jarring thud. Pain shot through his body, but there was no time to dwell on it. His hands scrambled for his bow, but it was too late. The warg was upon him, its growl a terrifying, guttural sound as it lunged forward, jaws wide, aiming to finish what it had started. Legolas’ breath caught in his chest, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if his fate had already been sealed.

𖧧 But then, there was a blur of motion—you. In an instant, you were there, a flash of steel cutting through the air with deadly precision. The warg’s snarling jaws were split open in a single, clean strike, and the beast crumpled to the ground in a heap, the life draining from it as its body fell limp. Legolas, still reeling from the fall, was pulled to his feet with surprising strength, your hands steadying him. His breath came in ragged gasps, and he glanced up at you, his eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. The air around them was thick with tension, the sound of the remaining wargs still hunting, but for that moment, Legolas was focused only on you. For a heartbeat, he simply stood there, catching his breath, his gaze locked on you as he regained his balance. His body ached from the fall, but the rush of adrenaline coursing through him was far more intense than the sting of his injuries. He was alive—because of you. Legolas’ eyes softened with a deep sense of gratitude, and despite the danger still lingering, his lips curled into a small, appreciative smile. “I thought I might be lost to the pack,” he said, his voice low, edged with a touch of awe. “You saved me.”

𖧧 He straightened his stance, feeling his pulse slow, though the threat was not yet gone. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his usual composure now touched by a vulnerability he rarely allowed to show. His admiration was clear in the way his eyes held yours, the subtle shift of his posture as if he were finally acknowledging something beyond the battle—the connection forged in the heat of survival. Though the hunt was far from over, Legolas felt a quiet, unexpected sense of peace in that moment, knowing that he was not alone in this chase. Not anymore. “Come,” he said softly, the command clear but gentle. He extended a hand toward you, his smile now tinged with something deeper—gratitude, trust, and a bond formed in the most dangerous of circumstances. “We must finish this together.”

[bldrdsh]

HE WATCHES QUIETLY, stalwart guardian of the Moon Isles, and as it would seem, GOD OF THE HAVEN in which many of Erlik's children might find peace. He has a sinking suspicion that THIS is going to become a recurring thing for him. The admission from Temir has him WONDERING just how many of Erlik's children felt the same way? MATYR was obvious, and Shyngay was FAR EASIER to get to open up than Temir, but the very IDEA that many of them feel the same way has him WONDERING if perhaps there was HOPE for them yet. He couldn't tell, and while perhaps it wasn't his DUTY, he'd likely do it anyway.

"I didn't say it was simple–I said it was possible. Make no mistake it is LIKELY to be a terrifying experience. Removing yourself FROM BENEATH the IRON FIST of a tyrant..."

HE LEANS back finally standing upright once more from his otherwise relaxed position on the railing of his cabin. HE CAN'T sit idly by and let this continue. DESPITE notions of frustration it's AGONIZING to watch deities cower from the prospect of a HATEFUL parent. It makes him ANGRY. It reminds him of memories of a parent who FAILED him as Erlik has failed his own children.

"When I was a mortal I studied history & mythology. It consumed much of my life–if there's one thing that BOTH of those subjects taught it's that TYRANTS only maintain their power when their subjects are split apart. When they DO NOT realize the power they possess. I've seen MANY of you & your siblings show up in my domain, yet your father himself IS just a shadow hiding in the dark. His influence is strong on all of you–but not indefinite."

The more Temir speaks, the more inclined he is to TRY HARDER. A fervid drive igniting within him as he draws in a QUIET breath, hands resting in his pockets once more as he watches the other god. THERE'S A SORT OF BREAK–like the facade can no longer be held up. His admission of FEAR followed by the CACKLE that comes at the idea that his SIBLING who should by all accounts be able to know ALL has been DECEIVED leads Karthisius to believe there's MUCH more to this than he is being led to believe.

"I told your brother as much and I am a MAN of my word above all else. While you tread on these lands, YOU ARE UNDER MY PROTECTION. No god from any other pantheon can step foot in this place without me knowing and ONLY if I allow it. At any point I can easily remove UNWANTED guests."

DID. Past tense, yet still somehow Karthisius isn't entirely sure he BUYS into that. Seeds of doubt remain, otherwise this conversation wouldn't have even been happening, but he ELECTS not to share that thought.

"Your father is a BULLY. Exactly. Bullies get power over the masses with fear–have you not wondered why he is SO intent on dragging your brother back into the fold? Why he insists that you & your siblings continue to chase and torment him?"

HE WAITS A MOMENT before finally closing a bit of space between them, stepping off the porch and approaching with a QUIET hum.

"He's afraid–just like you are–I would wager that the more you & your siblings allow yourselves to think about taking charge of your own existence, the more afraid he'll get––and like your brother I will extend the same off to you. This place is SAFE from prying eyes. Should you need a PLACE to...THINK and process those...DOUBTS you had, this place can be a sanctuary for you."

Now, Temir had a feeling how the interaction between this younger god and his brother had gone. Was it the same for him? Had this one plucked at his heartstrings? Stared at him as though piercing right through his soul? It was both invigorating and terrifying to think about, to finally be seen, to be known for what he truly was, but to a point where he was genuinely becoming uncomfortable. Maybe a little too seen -- - for the first time in his entire existence.

"You think you have it all figured out, don't you? You've got a good eye for the little details, I'll give you that." The Turkic deity mused with the lift of his chin. "But it's not that simple. Yes, one of my brothers walked away from his family a long time ago, yet that wasn't the end. He's still pursued by the rest of my siblings, a factor that I, personally, have never taken part in. I don't see the point and genuinely believe he should be left to his own devices. If he wants nothing to do with his family, then so be it, it's none of my concern." It was strange to think about, the two of them on Earth for hundreds of thousands of years, yet the younger of the two had always kept his distance from Matyr. Was it out of respect? Hatred? Was he simply disinterested? Or was it just painful to see him, to know he'd built his life there from the ground up as well, yet their paths had gone in entirely different directions?

One helped people, punished those deserving of it, while the other sought to punish everyone.

Yet as Karthisius continued, poking holes in the siblings' logic, shining a light on their fathers' lies, Temir fell silent. The latter was nothing new to him. He knew he was little more than a pawn in his father's grand scheme to screw over his siblings above, but to accept that humanity wasn't just black and white, that there were shades of grey in between? It just made things complicated. It was easier to think that they were all bad, that all of them were Giselle's in the making, ready to stab him in the back if he should dare lower his guard for a single second. Were they all like that? He'd never given anyone else a real chance to prove him and his father wrong.

"Yes..." The answer to the Greek god's question cut through that bravado like a knife through butter, almost surprising Temir himself as he physically stepped back, his shoulders sinking, not out of relaxation, but a moment of defeat. "Of course, we're all afraid. Isn't that the hallmark of a bully? We're scared?" It was a crushing admission, one that he'd known for a long time now, but never allowed himself to utter or ponder for too long. But it was the truth, wasn't it? He was scared, scared of defying his father, of letting someone in, letting them get close and being rejected all over again. "Stop..." His voice quietened, his breathing quickening. "Stop! This isn't fun anymore." He wasn't in control of the situation, emotions were running freely and he was more open and seen than he'd ever been. Again, he was afraid.

"I came here to find out what happened when Shyngay visited. It seems I have my answer... it doesn't take a genius to know that he likely went down this same path. I've shared his doubts in the past, I wager he doesn't even know I've ever had them, or that I took any notice of him. It's easier that way... but I do. I did." He was quick to correct himself, lifting his hands to adjust his lapel again, though this time as a mere distraction. "Above all... I knew this place had to be secure. Nothing had reached my father, or Uchar, which is quite the feat given that he's the god of informants. If someone knows, he'll find them. Yet... nothing. Silence." Dark eyes studied the other god for a moment when suddenly he began to laugh. "The sheer delicious irony that only the god of bravery has had the courage to leave while the rest of us stay in our place. Perhaps poetic in a morbid sense."

[wonder-worker]

I've been thinking about the tragedy of Elizabeth Woodville living to see the end of her family name.

I don't mean her family with her husband, which lived on through her daughter and grandson. I mean her own.

Her sisters died, one by one, many of them after 1485. When Elizabeth died, only Katherine was left, and she would die before the turn of the century as well.

All her brothers died, too. Lewis died in childhood. John was executed. Anthony was murdered. Lionel died suddenly in the peak of Richard's reign, unable to see his niece become queen. Edward perished at war. Richard died in grieving peace. For all the violence and judgement the family endured, it was "an accident of biology" that ended their line: none of the brothers left heirs, and the Woodville name was extinguished. We know the family was aware of this. We know they mourned it, too:

“Buy a bell to be a tenor at Grafton to the bells now there, for a remembrance of the last of my blood.”

Elizabeth lived through the deposition and death of her young sons, and lived to see the end of her own family name. It must have been such a haunting loss, on both sides.

[topaziraphale]

"Stop saying Crowley won't help Aziraphale in S3 he'd go back to him in a HEARTBEAT and nothing would stop him" I get it no one likes the idea of Crowley being bitter after what happened for a long period of time but like can we at least acknowledge that he's currently going through probably the most emotional pain in his life since falling? Can we agree that he's opened his heart entirely - something you couldn't pay him to do unless the world is literally ending and he's desperate - to Aziraphale, and got shot down? Can we understand that he did it AGAIN only to lose Aziraphale again? Not that what Aziraphale did isn't without Crowley's own shortcomings (hiding the truth of Heaven's cruelty from him) but like,,,,

The appeal here isn't Scorned Crowley Doesn't Love Aziraphale Anymore, or Never Wants To Help Him Again, the appeal here is Crowley learning enough self respect to not just walk back right to Aziraphale like nothing happened after Aziraphale has had a pattern of consistently refusing him. Going years ping-ponging between "We're not friends I don't even know him" to "That's what friends are for right?" and "We're friends, why would you even say anything?" and "Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon!"

Like I get it, Crowley is a heartbreakingly forgiving person. Of course he's gonna forgive Aziraphale, I'll be surprised if he didn't forgive him by the time he walked out the bookshop door, but gdi he could at least grant himself the luxury of being at least a little irritated for longer than however long it takes to make a globe and some books float and angrily cry out to God in his flat. But due to the change of pace and dynamic that is establishing part of the conflict for Season 3, I just really like the idea of him for ONCE prioritizing himself and being like "Okay, fine. We'll get back at it when you're ready, then," instead of just taking Aziraphale back like his words and actions meant nothing to him, when clearly they have an effect on him.

What is Aziraphale going to learn if Crowley just accepts what he did so quickly, like he always has the entire time they've been friends? Idk maybe I'm just projecting too much darkness on their dynamic but I mean, if the pattern of Aziraphale pushing Crowley away/disrespecting him one day and then being fine with his friendship the next + Crowley never stopping to be like "Hey, that's not cool, at least give me a little credit" or smth was fine all along and will continue to be fine in the future, then why, after 6,000 years of being friends and loving this demon, can Aziraphale still not accept that Crowley is just fine the way he is, and instead got excited to promote him to an angel in a heartbeat once the opportunity presented itself? You can't blame all of it on Heaven when Aziraphale has demonstrated his free will/defiance to Heaven so many times. Or, I don't know, I guess maybe we can? Maybe I'm just craving too much angst to the point where I'm letting it cloud my analysis of canon. Idk.

[confoodles]

Does anyone else feel like Aylinluna was horribly out of character this episode?? I've heard that apparently some things were cut, so that might be the reason but it still felt weird. Like ur telling me Luna, who has literally been so respectful of Aylin's boundaries literally even last episode, is suddenly forcing her to go out of her comfort zone?? Okay, fine, I understand the concept of wanting ur gf to get along with ur friends, but ur telling me Luna wouldn't stand up for Aylin when someone is clearly getting in her face and making her uncomfortable?? That she would call her an ALIEN??!!!

[naivety]

very weird to frame your abuse apologia as being aware that the writers intended to illustrate a mutually harmful dynamic and not an abusive one. when the writers in question also wrote the line 'once you put it out there, they [the audience] decide what it is' because nothing you ever create has any innate definition. when the writers in question decided to racebend major characters and then showcase them being harmed by white or nonblack characters in a repeatedly racialized pattern when they Did Not Have To Do That and then genuinely or disingenuously decide to dialogue about their directly or indirectly illustrated racialized dynamic of intimate partner violence within and outside the narrative. like to be quite honest it does not matter what they intended because this is what they made and this is how it Looks to a notably large amount of people. who just happen to be interpreting it wrong? according to what metric? the very metric they say Doesn't Work in their own fictional creation? ok