#and maybe that will make things not as bad as before (hopefully)

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales 6

Summary: More battles and more bargains come into play as things go from bad to worse.

Content Warnings: Blood and Gore, Violence, Character Death (Unnamed); Mentions of Slavery/Assault/Incest (the twins are back)

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

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I’ve aged a decade in the time it takes to get inside the Imperial Palace. The blistering heat makes sweat bead down the back of my dress, every inch of heavy fabric feeling like it’s plastered to my skin. Everything feels too heavy on my body. I need to get home and into the tub, maybe with enough soap and water I will be able to purge the oppressive weight that clings to my skin.

Though I have my doubts. It’s not just the heat or the dirt, it’s this whole place. Everything I have known and loved about the city feels like it has been stripped down to nothing but the oozing, wretched thing that has been hidden beneath golden arches and layers of stark white marble. It reeks of a decay that has nothing to the crucified bodies hanging outside our doors.

Senators and Commanders mingle, wives dripping in expensive jewels hanging from their arms, laughing and talking about how magnificent this celebration for Amarantha is. I’d be shaking with the rage I feel clawing up my insides were it not for the way Rhysand still held me in his mental grip.

“Steady,” he warns for what feels like the fiftieth time today. I don’t know how he’s managed to stay so calm, especially when his men have been taken through the back streets of the city. There is a prison on the outskirts of the capitol, on the eastern wall, hopefully there will be less cruelty on the streets now that they’re away from the parade, but it is still a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It cannot be easy to be forced to stay here, with the enemy at every turn, while your men labor in a dungeon, yet he and Cassian, stand with their heads high behind me.

One of the guards untethered them from the back of my horse, but holding their chain in my hands is just as bad as leading them on horseback. Cassian gives me a wide berth, far enough away that if I take two steps ahead I’ll drag him by the throat. Azriel, however, hovers near my left shoulder, head down like he’s trying to hide, even as I watch his shadows slither down the back of his legs and scatter across the floor in search of something. One still remains coiled around my ear, hidden by my hair.

“Be careful around the twins,” I warn as my cousin catches my eye and makes her way towards us. She’d been too far behind us in the procession for me to see her reaction to the horrors, but, judging by the grin on her usually stoic face, I’d say she enjoyed it. 

Rhysand shifts so he’s standing behind my right shoulder, so I’m framed on either side by a towering Illyrian. Their presence is soothing, especially when Brannagh’s grin could peel paint. She obviously wants trouble. I’d be a fool to think the bloodshed outside was enough. She’ll need something to sink her fangs into before the night is over to be satisfied with the day. 

“There you are, cousin!” We have the same slate colored eyes and that is where the family resemblance stops. Everything about her is rigid and uniform and for so long being near her had made me feel like a lamb being watched by a lion. Yet, with the males at my back, I don’t feel so small anymore.

“I’m surprised you made it,” she says, eyes raking over Rhysand, then Azriel, then Cassian, sizing each of them up to see which would be an easier meal.

I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to punch in her teeth. 

“First the Games, now this,” Dagdan says as he abandons an attempt to woo one of the Senators with his bullshit war stories, and joins us. “Maybe we are related after all.”

Rhysand withdraws his mental presence from my head and I draw my mental shields back up to make sure I keep the twins out. 

Brannagh walks a slow circle around us, tongue running over her lower lip. “I really didn’t think you were capable of this.” Her bony fingers reach out to flick the chain looped around their throats. “It’s a little… what’s the word you always throw at us? Barbaric for you?”

“All it took was Mommy Dearest to lose her head for you to grow a spine, huh?” Dagdan sneers.

Azriel’s shadow hisses angrily in my ear as his head jerks up off his chest. The glare he throws over my shoulder could melt a glacier, the heat in it seering across my skin. 

“This one’s pretty,” Brannagh coos at him, her fingers reaching out to brush across his cheek.

“Don’t touch him,” I bite out through my teeth. 

“Careful, we bite,” Cassian snarls.

This only makes Brannagh grin further and my first instinct is to draw all three of them behind my back, as if they were small children in need of protection and not three fully grown warriors. As if I had not seen them kill a Giant and a handful of Wargs in the Arena just yesterday. 

“Were they fun?” Brannagh teases, making another circle so she can draw her nails over Rhysand’s nearly bare chest.

Red tints my vision. 

“They look like they’d be a good fuck.”

I clench my hands into fists to keep my power from erupting and taking out everything in the room. Rhysand can’t save me from this one, not without them sensing his mental presence. And if we are to play this game, I need to be able to stand on my own two feet. I might not be the most skilled fighter in this room, but I have plenty of other weapons in my arsenal. 

“How would you know? The only thing you’ve ever fucked is Dagdan.”

She flinches like I’d punched her right in the stomach. It was all rumors of course, but the whispers were there. The twins still insisted on sharing a room; still went everywhere together. They were toxically co-dependant and on more than one occasion they’d mentioned old practices of keeping bloodlines pure. I knew it was a sore spot, I didn’t care very much if it was true. As long as the blow landed; as long as I had something strong enough to cut her, so the bond screaming in my ears didn’t prompt me to cut off the hand still lingering too close to my mate’s skin. They were not hers to touch. 

Cassian chokes out a cough, trying to keep back a laugh as Brannagh’s face twists. 

Dagdan’s teeth flash in a snarl.

I merely grin as I give the chain in my hands a very subtle tug. “I think we’re done catching up, cousin. Do enjoy the rest of the celebration.” I do my best to leave them in the dirt as we head deeper into the palace. I’m sure she’ll find a way to make me pay for the remark later, but for now, I’ll count it as a victory. 

The exchange took place in the open foyer, the roof held up by pillars and the outside world only separated by billowing sheer curtains. I mount the steps that lead us into a secondary foyer, where bubbling fountains and a pool of multicolored fish take up much of the space. Standing guard atop the fountains are twin statues of our gods of war and victory; the golden bowls at their feet overflowing with coins left by worshipers as they come and go from the Palace. We need more than a little luck and victory on our side and I leave a handful of coins on Victory’s altar. I will go to the Temple later and beg the Mother for forgiveness for how blind I have been, and seek a Priestess to make an offering for her blessing in what is quickly becoming an act of outright treason.

I feel Rhysand’s violet gaze on me as I make the offering. 

“The twins really are… like that?” Cassian asks as we round the fountain. It has to be morbid curiosity that prompts the conversation, but the fact that he’s speaking to me at all makes my heart race in my chest. I’ll take whatever scraps he’ll throw my way, if it only means he doesn’t hate me as much as he did yesterday.

“I’d be more surprised if they weren’t than if they were,” I say, unable to suppress a shutter when thinking about it. “They’ve always been… together… and weird about it.”

“Sure, and we’re the animals.”

I can see the back of Amarantha’s blood red head as the inner circle makes its way towards the atrium for food and whatever entertainment could be dragged into this den of vipers for the afternoon. Servants carrying goblets of wine drift through the clusters of visiting dignitaries and soldiers. There’s more than a couple armored gladiators, acting as guards for their sponsors, in attendance. I try to keep track of who belongs to who as we go, in order to give us an edge for the next match. Senators Beron and Tamlin, former lords from Prythians courts, now given new titles within the Empire for merging their kingdoms, both have sponsors shadowing them. The males have to be half Giant, with arms and thighs thick as tree trunks. Their armor has to be custom made to be able to fit them. I don’t know the names of either males, only that they’ve been employed long enough for their conditions in the Arena are they don’t fight Amarantha’s Attor. Too much money has been put into them to let them get torn to ribbons by that beast. 

I slide my way through the throngs of people to get closer. To play this game, there is no doubt that they will have to go back into the Arena a couple times. I need to start finding ways to give them an edge. I can start by seeing up close just how much taller they are then Cassian. If they have to go hand-to-hand in the future, I want to see how they compare next to each other so I can plan to get around it. 

The gladiators have at least two feet on Cassian, which makes me basically an ant in comparison. I already have to tilt my head up to look my mates’ in the eye, these males make me have to keep distance between us to be able to see anything other than they’re stomachs. 

Cassian is fairly nimble, from what I’ve seen so far, as long as the wound on his leg is healed by the next match, he can use that to his advantage. But the thought of having to watch him fight males this size makes my stomach twist. I’m going to need to do more than size up the competition. 

Beron is accompanied, as always, by several of his sons, but it is always Eris by his side. The well dressed male turns a grin in my direction when he catches sight of me. “Highness,” the bow is graceful, fox-like in a way that reminds me of Lucien, wherever he is in the crowd to avoid his Father. It’s not like him to leave Tamlin alone in these situations, they’re usually joined at the hip.

“It does me good to see you outside,” Eris continues, as he reaches out to take my hand and press a chaste kiss on the back of my knuckles.

Azriel’s shadow hisses in agitation in my ear as something hot flickers down the bond.

“It’s been too long since you’ve graced us with your presence.” I’ve known the Vanserra’s for a long time, Eris is not quite the flirt Lucien is, but he has no shortage of sway over females, males too for that matter. It had always surprised me that Father hadn’t tried to arrange a union between us. Eris was known, from time to time, to share the same savage brutality the Emperor valued in his court; it should have pleased him to have Eris for a son in law. 

“Are you finally feeling better?”

“It took longer than I expected to recover,” I say honestly. Better to not oversell anything; all lies have a little truth woven in. “But getting some air has been good.”

His russet gaze jumps to the males behind me, and the grin I’ve known for decades turns serpentine. “And profitable, I’d imagine?”

“For the Empire, of course, all earnings will go to aid the far reaches.”

“So I heard,” he nods, still studying them. “You always did have a bleeding heart, Highness. It is good to see it benefit you.”

The compliment feels underhanded, but so do most things around here. 

“When will we get to see them in action again?”

Talking about them like they’re not standing here makes me want to start smashing things, but I reign in my temper. “I was just about to ask you the same about your Father’s gladiators.”

He glances back at the male and shrugs. “Felix is always ready, but we’ve gotten no summons.”

Interesting. The Gamesmaker should already have a match-up in place, even if the Arena will be closed for repairs for a few days still. 

“How unfortunate, it’d be quite the fight for Cassian.”

I feel Cassian shift a little closer, the scent of sandalwood and snow-capped mountains invading my senses. It is an effort not to step back and lean into him, he’s never dared be this close before. 

“It would be quick,” he states.

Eris huffs a laugh. “For your neck to be broken, brute? Yes, we’d be in agreement.”

There’s a snap as Cassian’s wings ruffle and whip closed again, his agitation so clear I can taste it. The frayed edges of our bond simmer, but I can’t tell if the rage is his or my own. We are alike in that aspect.

“Who was summoned, then?” We can’t linger too long here, especially not for information I do not yet need. Rhysand still needs to get a better look around and we’re starting to linger on the stairs, people clustering behind us.

“Not Tamlin’s man either,” Eris says with a shrug. “I’m as in the dark as you.”

“You?” I force a teasing smirk to my features. “I thought you knew everything around here, Eris?”

His russet gaze darkens as his perfect teeth dart out to bite his lower lip. It’s a move I’ve seen thousands of people swoon over. “I’ll happily find out for you, Highness.”

Azriel’s shadow snarls in a language I can’t make out, but it is Rhysand’s side of the bond that ripples with promised violence. Is that jealousy I feel? I try to shove the thought aside; hoping that they feel this thing between us is too much to ask for. I will only hurt myself if I start to hope that I am more than a means to an end.

“Please do. I’d be indebted to you.” That’s all it takes for the Autumn male to bow and disappear into the crowd.

Senator Thessian and his large entourage of guards pushes past us on the stairs, the armored guard slamming into Rhysand from behind hard enough that he stumbles forward, hands reaching out to catch himself on my hips before he can take both of us to the floor. My whole body freezes under the contact, the warm press of his body against mine enough to make all rational thought fly out of my skull.

He leans in, like he might offer an apology, breath ghosting over my neck as his lips brush the shell of my ear. My whole body shivers in anticipation. “Clever, little vixen.”

The low baritone of his voice makes heat rush between my legs, something hot coiling in the pit of my stomach. Now the citrus and jasmine scent of him invades all my senses and I really, truly have no thoughts left in my head. 

My knees wobble as he gives my hip a squeeze, even as the bond roars at the loss of contact as he steps back. Maybe it’s just been awhile since I’ve been intimate with anyone, but that small amount of contact feels like an electric current beneath my skin. It is an effort to keep moving up the stairs and not turn and do something foolish, like press my lips to his and slide my fingers into his hair. 

The atrium is a wide, open room with tables piled with food lining the far walls. On the left are floor to ceiling windows, thrown open to let in the warm summer breeze, a few Praetorians standing at attention amidst the billowing curtains.. There are low couches along the walls, some of which are already taken. If not by anyone with a gladiator, I don’t linger on who sits where. 

A servant with a tray of wine passes and I snag one to try and calm the sizzling beneath my skin. I didn’t realize one of today’s many battles would be trying not to throw myself at my mates. 

There is a raised dais against the far wall, the couches and lounge chairs far more plush and ornate than the rest. Father has found his seat, a slightly less gaudy throne than usual, and reclines as a servant fans him with a palm frond. Amarantha has taken her usual seat on his right, reclining against one of her pleasure slaves. The male wears little but a strip of crimson fabric between his legs, every inch of bare skin lean and smooth. There’s another perched on the armrest of her chair, holding a goblet of wine for whenever she needs it; a third sitting at her feet, running idle fingers up the side of her calf. All that attention, and yet her dark gaze still tracks the males behind me with enough hunger I debate how much trouble I’d be in if I threw my own wine glass at her head.

She is not the only one who pays such close attention to the Illyrians. A couple dignitaries’ wives and high ranking soldiers gawk blatantly at how much skin they have on display. More than one head turns to get a better look at Rhysand’s ass in this get-up.  He neither cowers or preens under the attention; it’s like he doesn’t even register it. I can’t help but wonder if that was the point: Everybody is so busy ogling him, they’re not really paying attention to what he’s doing. It’s a good mask, it shields his intentions and lets him observe without it being obvious, but the way they look at him, like he’s a piece of meat makes me wish I had claws to scratch out their eyes. 

I take another sip of wine, trying not to look too desperate for the emptiness it’ll bring as I head in the direction of the dais. 

“You’ve surprised me,” Father says as we approach. It’s the first real acknowledgement he’s shown me all day.

The shadow curled around my ear burrows a little deeper under my hair to avoid detection, the soft ether brushing against a sensitive spot on my temple that has me gripping the wine glass a little tighter to keep from reacting.

“As I said, I am trying to do better, Father.”

His gaze flicks to the chain in my hand, down the length of it like he’s inspecting the strength of each wrung before finally arriving on the occupants tethered to it. He grins in triumph as he takes in their attire. Maybe they were right to ignore what I’d brought out. It certainly looks like I’ve intended to humiliate them by dressing them in the same attire many of the Senator’s slaves are sporting. 

“Tell me how you managed to bring the three of them to heel when Amarantha couldn’t?” 

Amarantha bristles in her seat, her perfect teeth flashing in her pale face.

Another small victory. 

“Tell him you instructed the healer to give us a sleeping drought in our wine.” The twins haven’t reappeared and his sudden return in my head nearly makes me jump out of my skin. “And faebane in the water this morning.”

I repeat his instructions as I move to take the seat that is mine on his left and force myself not to think about how it’s a couch instead of a chair like his because it used to be shared with my Mother. 

“You’re hoping to acquire mirthroot in the city to keep us docile until the next match.”

I repeat that too, making a mental note to ensure that I follow through with it. He will monitor my every move in the city, if I don’t follow through, he’ll know it and then we’re dead. An issue that seems far less pressing when Rhysand’s hand brushes over my wrist. Watching him in the Arena did nothing to show just how agile he is, not when he expertly maneuvers my hand towards his chest, the chain blocking his part in this. The next thing I know, I’m moving to sit and he’s falling into the couch behind me so it looks like I pushed him down into the seat so I could recline against his chest. The motion takes him seconds, it looks like he rehearsed it down to the exact placement of the chain to hide the fact that he’d been the one moving me and not the other way around. 

Azriel seats himself on the armrest wordlessly; Cassian grunting as he sits on the floor with his back against the couch. I get the distinct impression he is only keeping his shoulder against my knee because being any farther away would mean his wings were in reach of Father’s hands. 

It takes me a minute to find my bearings again as my brain short circuits over how close they all are. Rhysand’s heartbeat is steady against my back, his skin warm even through the fabric of my dress. He lets his head lean back against the back of the couch, feigning exhaustion or maybe repulsion from being “forced” to be this close to me. I’m close enough that I could run my hand up Azriel’s thigh if I wanted, and damn me do I want to. Or close enough to Cassian that my fingers itch to brush through the thick strands of his hair. It is a cruel trick of fate that my mates are close enough for me to touch and I can’t.

At the mention of the mirthroot, one of Amarantha’s males leans around the Emperor to offer a rolled cigarette, even dried the hint of mirthroot is obvious. The male’s eyes are glassy, shining under the effects of it himself, the grin on his features lazy and unbothered. Far too soft a male to be shackled to Amarantha. 

I tap Cassian on the shoulder to prompt him to take it. A mistake because he flinches like I hit him and I think I might have undone any effort I’d made to get him to at least tolerate my presence. He snatches the offered cigarette, and the liter that follows and passes it back to me with a huff.

The Emperor watches the exchange with more interest than he’s ever shown me in my life. “What would you have done, Amarantha?” He asks.

“The same,” she says through her teeth. 

I take a deep breath through my nose to keep from making a disgusted face at her. “Ember said that’s what she used to do for Amarantha’s slaves before she came to my keep, so I simply took a page out of her book.” 

I pass the cigarette and liter to Azriel, and pray the sight of the flames doesn’t cause the same reaction it had when he’d been branded. He grits his teeth, but there is no angered flash down the bond or hiss from the shadow to indicate it’s anything other than a show as he lights it and takes a long drag. 

“I’m glad to see that in your seclusion you’ve finally grown half a brain,” Father says. “I was beginning to worry that your Mother’s poisoned tongue had gotten to you.”

I flinch despite myself and all three of the males tense around me. Cassian’s jaw ticks, the flutter of movement brushing across my knee. For the first time all day, his hazel gaze flicks to me, and  maybe it’s a trick of the light, but I swear I see a flash of pity there.

“No, it didn’t,” I whisper, unable to put any feeling into the words. I haven’t been back here since the execution. I’d found every reason to avoid it. Being back feels like peeling a scab off the wound and letting it bleed all over the floor.

Azriel takes another drag and I wish more than anything to take a hit of it myself and numb this feeling in my chest. What I would give for the empty numbness that had filled me in the early months of my grief. There are so many tangled emotions here, between the loss and my mates and the horrors of what we just witnessed outside. I cannot pick just one to focus on; can’t find some outlet to expel the building pressure. It all tangles and lodges itself in my throat like it's trying to drown me.

Rhysand’s fingers brush over my arm as he draws his hand up to take the cigarette from Azriel. To an onlooker it looks accidental, maybe it is, maybe I’m just reading into it, but even that faint brush drags me back to the surface for a bit of air again. At least I am not alone in the water anymore. Mother had always been emotionless, nothing got to her. I was always the one that felt too much. At least now the emotions can be shared.

“Your actions yesterday inspired me,” the Emperor says after a beat. 

Apprehension licks its way up my spine.

“I haven’t taken a champion of my own in a long time. It’s become dull, betting on someone else’s man.”

Shit!

Azriel’s shadow dares to peek out around my bangs, observing the crowd as they begin to settle in their seats with plates of food, as if on some silent command. Brannagh and Dagdan join us on my left, on the seat closest to the dais, the stare they level at me hot enough to melt glass. So much for Rhysand being in my head the rest of the evening. 

With a wave, the Emperor motions over a creature I have no name for. It walks on two legs like a man, but is covered head to toe in thick, brown, fur. Horns curl from the top of its head; a beak with a hooked tip jutting from its face. Its hands end in talons like that of a bird, but there are five on each hand instead of three. Its tunic has been folded down around its waist, leaving its chest bare, revealing a spider web of scars gouged through the heavy layer of fur. A thin, whip-like tail ending in a spiked tip flicks back and forth behind it as it walks, each step sending a shutter through the Palace. 

My skin pricks with goosebumps. Some strange sort of alchemy made this thing.

“I was hoping to test it in the Arena, but with the repairs in order, I thought a smaller show would do just as well.”

My stomach hurdles into my throat.

“Why don’t we pick one of your champions to break it in, daughter?” The Emperor suggests as if this is a thought that just came to him and not something he’s been planning from the beginning. 

I take another sip of wine as I turn to look at him, trying to steady the rapid pounding of my heart. I can’t let one of them fight this thing! Its maw opens and snaps shut with a clack as it stands before us, growing impatient.

“I’d personally like to see Cassian’s thick skull get crushed like a watermelon,” Amarantha chimes in from her seat.

I’m really going to throw up right here in front of all these people.

“A splendid idea from our woman of the hour, don’t you think?” He grins like he’s caught me, like he knows I’ve been playing games and have walked right into his trap.

“Nothing can be as bad as listening to you speak, Amarantha,” Cassian snarls as he gets on his feet, effectively making the decision for me.

He cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, wings ruffling behind him, but before he can step into the center of the room, he turns to face me, much to my surprise. Hands scarred from swordplay reach out to give the chain around his neck a little tug. “Mind letting me off the leash, Princess?”

One of the Praetorian steps forward to unchain him but I stand and snag the key from his hand instead. I’ve seen enough males get stabbed or injected with something right before a fight to give the opponent an upper hand to know I can’t trust anyone near him. And, maybe, just maybe, the act of giving him a little relief from the chain might make him not hate me so much.

My hands shake as I reach up to his neck to unclasp the chain. I know better than to take the whole collar off while there are so many people watching even if I wish I could. His breath is warm on my face as he watches me, waiting for his moment of freedom. The urge to stretch up on my toes and kiss him for luck is overwhelming; maybe in another life we could have. 

I step back with the chain in my hand and return to my seat before I can follow my impulses. 

Cassian turns to face his opponent and even though I saw him perform yesterday, I can’t shake the sinking feeling that I have just sent him to his death. The creature sizes him up like it's calculating the best spot to take a bite out of him and its beady eyes settle on the bandage tied around his bare thigh.

Rhysand leans forward, resting his chin on my shoulder to watch, arm loosely looped over my waist. It looks casual. No one bats an eye at the gesture, but I am pretty sure he’s done it so he can keep me from jumping off the couch.

Azriel leans forward, bracing himself with his knees on his elbows, hazel gaze tracking the steps of Cassian’s opponent as he also calculates its weak spots. 

“Let’s make it interesting, shall we?” The Emperor asks, leaning over to be heard over the rush of excitement the audience gives to the challengers.

I tear my gaze away from where I’m trying to memorize every line in Cassian’s wings, every curve of tattoo over his back and shoulders, just in case. “How so?”

“Cassian wins and I’ll let you pick their next opponent in the arena,” he suggests. 

I like the offer; it gives them a better chance at surviving. 

“Cassian loses, and you give Rhysand to Amarantha.”

The world flips and spins and the roaring in my ears has me clutching my hands in my skirts to keep a surge of power from destroying the room. My power singes the fabric, only the smoke from the mirthroot hides the smell. 

There is no way in Hel I am making that kind of bet!

Rhysand stiffens behind me, heartbeat skipping for half a moment before he pretends to be unbothered by the comment and takes another drag of the mirthroot. 

I’d rather throw myself on a blade than chance that. Cassian is an exceptional fighter, but I cannot take that risk. I am already risking his life by letting him fight like this, how can I risk both of them?

My chest aches. There are too many opportunities to lose them. Too many things that can go wrong. 

“And let our people think I am weak and incapable of following through on the deal we made yesterday?” I challenge. My voice trembles as I fight to hold his gaze steady. 

Azriel’s shadow hisses what sounds like a warning in my ear.

“You know if we split them up now it makes me look as if I can’t handle them.”

“Attached, are we?”

“No, but I am tired of looking weak,” I hiss. “If Amarantha wants them, she can challenge me for them herself.”

Rhysand stiffens behind me. The twins are too close for him to slip into my mind again, but I can practically feel him shouting at me down the bond.

She huffs a laugh around the other side of him, “As if you’d stand a chance in that!”

I ignore her as I hold my ground with my Father, “You have always thought so little of me.”

He doesn’t deny it.

“So if you really want to make this interesting, then fine. If Cassian wins, I pick when and who all their matches are with. And if he loses, well, you’ve already chosen a husband for me I’m sure, so you can speed up the process and I’ll provide them the heir you so desperately want by the end of the year.”

The bond shakes so hard in my chest it feels like Azriel’s screaming in my ear. Rhysand has gone still as death behind me and I didn’t think I said it that loud, but Cassian’s head whips in our direction, eyes wide.

Father throws his head back and laughs at that. “This new found confidence is amusing. I will allow you to pick the next two fights, but not all.”

Better than nothing.

“Deal.”

I think I can hear Azriel’s teeth grinding together beside me, so I force myself not to look at him. The bond thrums like he’s in physical pain and I hate that I have caused it, but I will not barter with their lives.

“To first blood!” The Emperor calls to the room.

“To the death!” Brannagh chants instead. 

When this whole Empire goes up in flames, I’m pushing her in first.

The crowd begins to murmur to themselves, debating. “I’ll put some money on it if they fight to the death,” Tamlin tosses out. 

“As will I!” Shouts a commander whose name I’d never learned.

The motion goes around the room in a full circle, by the time the Emperor concedes, I’ve drank my full glass and abandoned it on the couch. Didn’t we just do this?

The Praetorians provide blades for the two males, but the Emperor’s creature can’t hold the blade with its claw tipped hands and tosses it to the ground with a screech. Its barbed tip tail draws back behind it as it drops into a defensive stance. 

I forget how to breathe as Cassian drops into his own.

Time slows in a familiar sensation of undiluted horror as the creature moves first, striking forward with its tail like a spear. Cassian pivots back a step, rearranging his feet as he blocks with the sword.

The crowd cheers excitedly and I distantly recognize coins changing hands as they take bets, but cannot tear my eyes away enough to watch who is participating in it. Cassian remains on the defensive as the creature rears its tail back and attacks from the other side of its body this time, testing the Illyrian’s reaction time. When the strike is blocked a second time, it switches tactics and goes for a punch, talons extended towards Cassian’s face.

While the creature is taller, it is not as agile, and Cassian side steps out of the way of the blow, using the momentum to lunge into the next step and strike the tip of his sword across his opponent’s stomach. Its ear shattering screech shakes the room as the blade makes contact, drawing black blood. If it wasn’t for Brannagh, the challenge would be over, Cassian would have won. It would have been easy for once.

Enraged, the creature strikes with its talons again, missing a second time, but catching Cassian in the jaw on the backswing. The whole room can hear Cassian’s teeth clack together as he stumbles backwards.

It takes everything in me not to squeeze my eyes shut, not to wince and react to every blow. I have to keep telling myself that this is part of the game and I cannot give them away, but by the Mother it is harder and harder with every passing second!

Rhysand remains with his chin propped up on my shoulder, the bulk of his weight keeping me in my seat. I so desperately want to reach out and take his hand, give myself something to ground in, but I can’t. I have to accept that this might be all we’re ever allowed to touch, especially after today.

The creature strikes again with its tail, once, twice, a third, each like a punch. The third blow shatters Cassian’s sword into pieces and my heart plummets into my stomach as he dodges a fourth assault. He’s not so fast on the fifth and that barbed tip punches right through his bandaged thigh! Blood splatters as the tips hurdles through muscle and sinew until it pushes through the back of his leg.

One of the dignitaries' wives reaches for a bucket and wretches as Cassian’s roar of pain rattles my teeth. 

Azriel flinches, looking like he might just jump into the fight and stop it, but then catches himself. 

The bond screams and bashes against my insides as my powers flare again, singing more of my skirts as I hold them in a death grip that only worsens as the creature yanks the barb back out of Cassian’s leg, bringing him to the floor. Blood pours from the wound from both ends, cascading down his calf to make a puddle on the stark white tile.

There’s enough of my skirts to hide the motion, Rhysand buries his hand beneath them to hold onto my hip tight enough to bruise. I don’t know if that’s to keep me in place or himself. 

The creature snarls out a noise that sounds like triumph as it pulls its hand back, aiming to use its claws to sever Cassian’s head.

Not again! Not again! Not again!

I have to stop this! I have to do something!

At the last second, Cassian throws himself out of the way, knees tucked to his chest as he rolls out of reach, right to where the creature’s discarded sword lies. He snags the blade with a grunt, one hand pressed to the gaping wound in his thigh as he pushes himself back onto his feet. His face twists in pain at the slightest movement, but he manages to stay upright. 

Rhysand breathes a little easier behind me, but his grip on my hip hasn’t let up.

The Emperor frowns beside us, displeased with the outcome thus far no doubt. He really expected this to be easy. 

The creature strikes again, sticking to what it has found successful, and it becomes a mistake. Cassian twists at the last second, blade raised so when the strike comes, he doesn’t need to block it. At this angle, not only does it miss him, he has a height advantage and he brings the sword down as hard as he can, cleaving the tail in half. The barbed tip hits the floor twitching as the creature reels backward and wails.

Holy shit! I’ve seen a lot of warriors in my life, but I don’t think I’d ever describe them as beautiful until now. Each move is calculated, backed with training and muscle. His tattoos seem to come to life with his body as his muscles shift and strike. 

He doesn’t let up as his opponent stumbles back either, he uses the distraction to his advantage and plunges the sword into the creature’s shoulder. He might have been aiming for the heart, but the wound in his leg gives him too great a limp to lunge far on. The blade catches in bone, the resounding crunch deafening in the domed ceiling, and when he reels back to pull it out, he twists it just enough to make his opponent’s arm absolutely useless.

With two of its preferred methods of fighting gone, the creature bends at the waist and charges with a roar, hoping to use its horns like a battering ram into Cassian’s chest.

An otherwise horrifying sight, if Cassian didn’t laugh and step dramatically out of the way so the creature rams right into the wall. “Is that really all you’ve got?” He taunts as a rain of dust falls on his head. 

The creature screeches as it yanks itself free from the wall and shakes its head, clearing the debris from its beady eyes. 

Cassian spins the blade in his hand, adjusting his grip, and I think it might be one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my life.

He can’t crouch with his leg, but he doesn’t need to. The creature tries to ram him again and he dodges and brings his hilt down on its neck, knocking it to the floor. He wastes no time in rearing back with the blade and bringing it down, easily cleaving the creature’s head from its shoulders. 

Amarantha throws up her hands in a huff at the sight.

I finally take what feels like my first breath in an hour as Cassian tosses the blade on the floor. He did it! He won!

Azriel removes his elbows from his knees and reclines back against the armrest, clearly satisfied with the outcome. 

“Excellent! Excellent!” Praises the steward as he goes about helping anyone who placed bets collect their proper earnings. 

I tear my gaze away from the carnage to the nearest guard, “Find him a healer, now.” Before he bleeds out on the floor or Father decides he has another champion he wants to test. 

The Emperor takes a long drink from his goblet, eyes narrowed on the severed head the staff has to now clean off the floor. Around him, his dignitaries drink and argue over why they bet the way they did. It is business as usual, completely unbothered by the blood around them. 

When he finally turns to me, I have to brace myself against the anger simmering in his eyes. This is usually the part where I put my chin to my chest and try to make myself as small as possible. Usually. But not today. 

“It seems I’ve underestimated their talent for bloodshed.”

Cassian hobbles back over to us and I make a show of telling Azriel to help him before he gets blood everywhere, so no one thinks I just let them wander off on their own. 

“The Games will continue at the start of next week,” the Emperor continues.

That gives us days. I try not to look at the gaping hole in Cassian’s thigh. Thank the Mother it looks like it missed bone, but how is he supposed to participate with that? There’s no way it heals in time, even if I have Ember work twelve hours a day on him.

“I expect you to have their opponent picked out by the Senate meeting in the morning. You still have that end of your bargain to uphold.”

This victory will not be without repercussions, but it is still a victory nonetheless, and we have to take what we can get.

--

Managing to procure the mirthroot I need to trick my Father into thinking I’m following through with the regime I’d given him, as well as finding horses for the Illyrians to ride back on takes longer than usual, given the massive partying happening in the streets. We have to take the backroads home to avoid being pelted with more rocks, or outright mobbed. Compared to the rest of the day, the journey is uneventful, spent mostly with the others ensuring Cassian doesn’t pass out on the horse. 

The sun is already changing colors by the time we return to the River House, but I know if I try to prepare for bed now I’ll never sleep. Instead, I leave Anise with instructions to look into potentially safe opponents in the Arena, so when I see Eris again tomorrow I can compare their notes, and then set out for the Temple built on the edge of the property. 

I doubt there are enough blood offerings and animal sacrifices to cleanse the sins of this Empire, but I offer as many as I can in apology for my part in it. I don’t know how I’ve been so blind to all of it. I can’t stop seeing it now, it should have always been so obvious to me.

The Priestesses do not ask why I linger for over an hour, praying long past the time it takes for my offerings to burn atop the altar. I’d hoped that, if I said them hard enough, the weight of the day would slip off my shoulders. I’d thought, with enough sacrifices, the guilt would ease, but I can still feel my mates’ agitation and pain clearly through the bond. 

I return to the House as weary as before. Tomorrow will be a whole new set of problems. I cannot put it off by lingering in the Temple. 

The walk doesn’t clear my head, or loosen the tension, and I climb into the tub with that same heaviness still clinging to my skin. I heat the water as hot as I can, hoping it might cleanse me in a way my sacrifices couldn’t.

Exhaustion creeps its way in as I scrub and scrub and scrub until my skin is pink. Every time I close my eyes I can see the crucified bodies, gasping for air as they slowly suffocate under the weight of their own body pinned to the wood. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that sight; I can only imagine how it would feel to know each of those males before this. The bond still swirls beneath my skin, heavy with agitation the hot water can’t touch. 

I wish there was a way to take that from them, but how can I do that without calling attention to the mating bond? 

I give myself a few extra minutes in the blissful heat before dragging myself out and tossing a silk robe over my waterlogged skin. My brush is on the vanity where Anise left it this morning and I have just started to brush the knots out of my hair when I hear the bedroom door open. My hand stills halfway through my hair; it is unlike Anise to not announce herself when it’s this late. 

The door clicks shut again, the eerie silence that follows enough to make my heart drop into my stomach. The darkness of the room makes it hard to see beyond the candlelight that fills the bathing chamber and my hand goes instinctively into the vanity drawer, where my Mother had always kept an extra knife. The blade is cool in my fingers, the handle smooth and undamaged from never being used. The benefit of having constant guards is you usually never see the threats against you, though there are always exceptions.

There’s no footsteps on the carpet, but I can practically feel movement next to my bed. 

I’m a sitting duck here among all the candlelight, but if I step into the darkness beyond I’ll be totally blind. Better to wait for something to make itself known. 

I suppose there’s enough guards around, I can always start screaming for help if it comes down to it.

A heartbeat passes before something dark and snakelike comes slithering across the floor. The ether loops itself around my ankle and crawls up my thigh like a purring cat before the shadow takes its perch behind my ear.

I set the knife on the vanity with a sigh of relief as Azriel steps into the light. “You scared the shit out of me!”

His shadow caresses the back of my ear in apology, far more expressive now than it was earlier. “Sorry.”

He side steps out of the doorway, but not in my direction, which is odd until Rhysand steps out of the shadows behind him.

“How did you two get in here?”

“Found the lever on the door to your secret tunnel,” Azriel says as his eyes trace up my bare legs, brazenly taking in all the damp skin I have on display.

Heat flushes up my cheeks and I have to look away from him. The candlelight and the hour of the evening makes this feel more intimate than it should, given the way Rhysand looks like he might burst out of his skin. I certainly shouldn’t be entertaining the idea that Azriel would look at me as anything other than a means to an end. Hope is too dangerous a thing to have right now. Just because we agreed to do this, doesn’t mean they’re anxious to accept me as anything other than help. Besides, I need to remind myself that it will be even more dangerous for us than it already is if we were to acknowledge the bond.

 “We were careful, no one saw us,” Azriel assures.

I should be relieved that they’re being safe about it, but the frown on Rhysand’s face makes me rethink it.

“What the hell were you thinking back there?!” He snarls.

Normally, that kind of outburst from a male would make me jump back in surprise, but at this point I’m too exhausted to move, let alone figure out what the hell he’s referring to. “I’ve had a lot of thoughts today, Rhysand, you will have to be more specific.”

The chain rattles around his neck as he steps further into the room, like it's fighting to hold back his powers. “Your bet with Hybern!”

Ah, right. That. “What of it?” Is he really still upset about that? Cassian won, nothing was lost.

Azriel winces and the shadow at my ear hisses in warning. 

“What of it?” He repeats, his voice rising to an octave just shy of shrill, like he can’t believe he heard me right. “You can’t just offer yourself up like that!”

“And what was my alternative?”

“He gave you an alternative!” He seethes. “All you had to do was say yes!”

I fold my arms over my chest in irritation, but I don’t miss the way both their eyes dip to my chest at the motion. “Oh so it’s ok for you to put your body on the line, but I can’t do the same with my own? Seems a little hypocritical, if you ask me.”

“That’s different!”

“How so?”

He’s inched his way into my space step by step, until I’m very aware of the jasmine and citrus scent of him. Sometime after he returned home he’d changed into the clothes I’d had laid out for him, the swirl of ink along his chest just barely poking out around the dark collar. Even hidden, the urge to reach out with my hands and trace the swirls with my fingers remains. 

“Because,” he says through his teeth. “It’s not a deal I can live with.”

“You don’t have to live with it because Cassian won anyway,” I retort, tearing my gaze away to look at Azriel. Rhysand is too close to me like this. I can barely think past the urge to touch him, let alone hold the argument like I need to. “Tell him he’s being ridiculous.”

Azriel folds his arms over his chest and frowns. “He’s not. You shouldn’t have made that deal.”

I throw my hands up and push past Rhysand, trying to give myself room to breathe. “You two are impossible!”

They follow like I’m still holding onto their leashes, footsteps somehow impossibly silent despite their size.  

“You’re honestly going to stand there and tell me you’d rather I offered you up to Amarantha?”

“If it meant you were safe,” Rhysand snarls. “Yes.”

I find myself gritting my teeth, a snarl working its way up my throat. “Well that’s not a deal I could live with, Rhysand.” 

Their legs are a hell of a lot longer than mine, Rhysand manages to snag my arm and turn me back around to face him before I make it more than three steps into the darkness of my chambers. 

His face looks strained, eyes rimmed red. He has to be exhausted. The bond feels fragile, strained from all the emotions that have been blared down it today. “I need you to find a way to deal with it,” he says, voice verging on pleading. 

I hate myself, but I can’t help but wonder what the hand holding onto my bicep would feel like travelling down the rest of my body. 

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, whatever you have to do, I… We need you to find a way to live with it.”

Azriel comes to stand on the other side of him, so they’re nearly shoulder to shoulder. “If Cass had lost and you had to…” even in the dim light coming from the bathroom I can see the heaviness in his eyes. 

I glance back and forth between them. “You’ve all suffered enough, I can handle myself. I knew what I was doing.”

Rhysand shakes his head, “I can bear a lot of things, but not that.”

Hope is a cruel bastard, and I’ve never learned to master it. “Why? What does it matter to you?”

He lifts the hand not holding onto my arm, fingers just barely brushing over my damp cheek and my heartbeat is suddenly very loud in my own ears. His mouth opens like he might say something, and then he clamps it shut again, debating with himself over the words.

While he can’t seem to find the words, Azriel’s scarred hand reaches out to gently grab my chin and tilt my face in his direction. “It matters,” he huffs, voice low and rich and the reverberations of it send shivers down my spine. “Because you’re our mate.”

------

Author's Note: Hehe was gonna wait for the reveal at the end but couldn't bring myself to do it. Let me know what you thought about it! And as always, if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know :)

@sirenpearldust, @saltedcoffeescotch, @littlemissfix-itfic, @waka-babe, @raisam

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@anainkandpaper, @rafeecameronsbitch, @whothehelliskayleigh, @lifetobeareader, @blimpintime,

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@hjgdhghoe, @krowiathemythologynerd, @urfunnyvalentin3, @mack234-blog1, @kissfromnovalie

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@marrass , @lia-h-r, @celestialzdiviner, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @tenshis-cake,

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@of-outerspace, @erencvlt, @corvusmorte, @lindsayjoy444,

[beneathsilverstars]

dagger ending question: how did the villagers within earshot react, and do they also check in on siffrin? thinking like, tutorial kid and running one

hmm, let’s see, who’s nearby, where is he.. somewhere that siffrin would assume is adequately out of the way for a minute of privacy, but if he’d actually thought about it he woulda realized there’s way too high a chance of someone walking through…

i think the best option here is the path to the clocktower, across the broken bridge and right around the corner. the villagers never go to the clocktower, the party has it all to themselves — but siffrin you silly goose, that means everyone in the party walks that path at least once a loop. and since siffrin is usually the last one still running around town and did the friendquests the last several times they looped to dormont, they forgot when exactly odile finishes her shopping and brings everything back to the clock tower, if not interrupted.

unfortunately. this means the closest villagers are the kids. but if they start hollering “what’s wrong??” as they run over, odile can go ah fuck and yell back for them to turn around and go get mirabelle right now because someone’s hurt. and if they don’t all go, or when they bring mirabelle back, the kids can be told to guard the bridge and make sure no one bothers them while mirabelle is working! sometimes the best way to stop a kid from doing something is to task them with making sure no one else does it.

hmm.. bonnie is nearby too… perhaps far enough to be out of earshot of the initial shouting, but they’d probably see the kids rush by with mirabelle and run over to see what’s going on. so maybe actually mirabelle sends bonnie to get isabeau! again, distracting them with a genuinely useful job. and when they get back, the kids say nuh-uh you’re not allowed past the bridge, and before bonnie can clobber them for it odile comes over and swaps out with isabeau and talks to bonnie. says siffrin got hurt, but mirabelle is healing them, and the best thing odile and bonnie can do now is stay out of the way and plan a really good dinner.

ofc bonnie asks what happened, but odile is not about to explain what she actually saw, and does not have a cover story ready either, and would rather not come up with something on the spot before she has more information, including.. siffrin’s status once mirabelle has done all she can. so she just says they’ll have to wait until siffrin is healed to get the full story. bonnie is very upset, esp bc odile won’t tell them how bad it is other than “mirabelle got to them quick, so hopefully they’ll be just fine.” which is not very reassuring but odile doesn’t want to say more and then be wrong about it. bonnie probably ends up deciding they’re even more mad at siffrin now so they don’t care ANYWAY but like they’re saying this with tears on their face.

and then yeah the villagers who saw mirabelle run by would have been talking worriedly, maybe starting to congregate by the bridge. running one, tutorial kid, smug one, maybe even fishing one and daydreaming one. odile just tells them one of the other saviors got hurt but mirabelle is taking care of it, if we need any help we’ll ask, otherwise go away, stay out of it. she’s being a lil snippy but who could blame her. and though the villagers are very curious they know when to back off… and go gossip w the other villagers instead, lol. they’re probably worried about what this means for the whole defeating the king thing. 😔

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

men are so disappointing in so many ways i know i shouldn't expect most of them to be dignified humans but it's crazy. i need to get over this guy he's making my sense of self crumble even faster than it usually does. like he's just so unlike my usual type and i'm pretty convinced he's stupid and slutty and not discerning whatsoever. not to mention boring like i know even if i did have a chance with him he wouldn't Get Me at all so it's a bigger waste of time that usual and i'm actually pretty tired of men in general and definitely tired of parasocial relationships because they drive me insane for months typically. thankfully it's only been like 2 weeks if that at this point. idk. sigh. i know literally virtually nothing abt him as a person and ofc liking any public figure who you know nothing about is only setting yourself for heartbreak and disappointment to begin with bc you already know nothing is gonna come from it but. in a way it's almost addictive to become obsessed with someone and not be looked at with the same level of scrutiny. i don't think anyone in real life would ever try to get to know me as much as i try to get to know people who i'll never even meet. lmao! but that's the thing... idk... i have a lot of love in my heart and it consumes me and i reject my pride usually when i'm into someone. i want to know more... like VORACIOUSLY consuming anything with information about them involved simply because i think knowing someone is a very deep form of love but of course you can never truly know anyone. not completely. and that scares me i think which is why it's always probably been easier for me to never really TRY to be with anyone or have anything real. idk. this turned into me psychoanalyzing myself real quick but SOMEONE needs to bc i need to understand what the fuck is wrong w me.

[thedeadthree]

thinking thoughts thinking thoughts thinking thoughts th—

what if irulanne was from the same clan as m*erril but raised a city elf since she was found in that crypt

what if she’s from the al*erion on her moms side and a l*avellan on her dads

what if lhysas father (an assassin just like his daughter lhysaa <33) had allies in his days as an assassin a pariah of his family

what if he wasn’t the only one that was betrayed when a thing went topsy turvy (will be getting to how that went down eventually !!!!!)

what if lhysas father moved on from lúthien the mother of the inky and her brother (she sort of went *poof* for reasons of her own that golly i need to write all of this down jdnxgcg i mean tungle post is a good place to start dnbxgxg)

what if unbeknownst to irulanne her and lhys and feanorian are half sibs what if her mother gave birth to iru and hid her in the crypt what if they found her and thought her to not have magic at first so she was raised by the elder of the alienage. (her mother was likely to have passed on as well poor iru 🥀🥲)

what if they kept an eye anyway knowing the bloodline she hailed from (lonans line lhysa and feanorians line has a STORY if there ever was one i will yell about it soon prommy !!!!!) and low and behold none too long later her magic manifested what if they waited a while more until she built her network of little creatures she reanimated that relayed her things and gaggle of friends what if she had a kingdom of her own and she refused

what if she was thrown under a bloody ritual to wipe her memories so that all she knew was the sisters a sort of sect of necromancers within the mourners that had their own ideas and machinations and saw her as their heir of sorts??

what if it was like she was to be some sort of lich queen…thing(?) ruling the living and the dead from the necropolis and that it went topsy turvy (to irulannes benefit ubeknownst to her at the time!!) when the thing happened and that whole her having a mage heir to rule was merely a side thing that if it happened cool but the main goal was the lich queen thing.

what if feanorian was in the area for a reason or another (maybe i can think of that with emms episode !!) he’s looking for the rook on behalf of lhysa who has her ex to thwart/save and a demigod daughter to raise etc etc (things i am planning to yell about later oo there’s so much to yell about with lhysa but this is a iru lore essay <3)

what if the prodigy to gifted kid burnout between lucanne (heir to bloodline etc etc luca and child of nothing destined to inherit everything irulanne) made me insane <3

[guinevereslancelot]

most fucked up thing about the body's response to not eating is when you're so hungry you feel like you're gonna throw up. this does not make it easier to eat food actually

[sortanonymous]

Wait, they're making another one? Oh-kaaayyyy... Not holding my breath, but hopefully it's at least better than the $h!tshow that was the second movie. (Even if that "version" of Silver is still there.) If it's any consolation, I don't know how much Sega is involved with the Sonic movies, but if it's a good bit, then maybe they can help out! At the very least, there's this amazing comment under the reveal teaser. (GOLDEN ISLAND MENTIONED)

[the-lark-ascending69]

Had this moment of extreme anger and aggression out of nowhere and ended up hurting myself and then i wrote about it, went out to get some coffee, chatted w the coffee lady for 5 minutes, watched an episode of amphibia and now i feel weirdly refreshed and hopeful about life and the future??

[swagglessmoth]

Might have accidentally made tobimelo friendship in my furry hybrid au perfect

I just made Carmelo a wolf (he was gonna be a racoon) bc I had made Tobias into a raven, ravens and wolves are really good friends in nature (and at that point I just thought that them being in somewhat good terms was funny and not gonna happen)

BUT

Tobias loves wolves, which is actually perfect and I had totally planed that 💯

[adore-gregor]

🤞

[izzy-b-hands]

I will be forever grateful i can be on this new med. it's one a lot of folks also need and can struggle to have access to! It's important i be on it, especially if i start doing any vid collabs

(some of which, really, all of which, i unfortunately actually need to cancel that were in the preplanning stages, bc the election results have me wanting to wait and see how the general atmosphere of the country is before i agree to meet up with anyone. I feel bad for cancelling, but also i just can't know for sure how safe things are/might be going forward and I'd rather avoid the potential of. ya know. various not great things that could happen at a meet up, tho i would certainly hope they wouldn't. i don't feel like actually addressing them rn, u guys know what i mean)

That said, if the truvada initial side effects could fuck off asap would be so lovely. three weeks at worst, then they should be gone/much better or so i am told. really hope that's true bc losing my mornings to being dizzy and nauseous is Not Working for me lmao. im on week two, and now understand why my new doc said to call if i needed any 'cheerleading' and support to get thru the side effects, bc apparently she's done that for several ppl to make sure they actually make it thru the three weeks and keep on it (lovely of her!!)

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

[dandyshucks]

need Guz to hug me tightly for like an hour solid oh my god dhdjdkl I went driving for the first time in over a year and I chewed my lip raw 😭😭

I'm starting to look like a caricature of Anxiety with all these physical symptoms and signs LMAO

[running-in-the-dark]

also.. I've been thinking more about the fact that we'll be living with my in-laws again.

we lived with them before, for about 🤔 four years (I moved in after my dad died). and it was.... how do I put this. not the best time. they're nice, technically, but very distant and cold. so I'm kinda scared of interacting with them and mostly just... didn't.

so I'm probably going to be stuck in our bedroom there for the entire two months. with our two cats. without all my stuff. I love my stuff, I feel lost without it, so that's not great. I'll only be bringing what I absolutely need (and probably my painting supplies - I will go insane if I have nothing to do), so that's going to feel weird.

and I've been thinking about how annoying certain aspects of living there (again) will be. except more annoying now since I won't ever be fully alone. which. hm. I don't like it. (I love our cats and of course it's not the same as having humans around all the time but.. idk I just need my space sometimes 😭)

[toothmarqed]

fallen prey to saying stupid shit on the internet without thinking and coming off as incredibly rude and insensitive. i feel sick to my stomach. never commenting on anything else ever again. deserve to be squashed under someone’s shoe and ground into powder. in all seriousness this has shocked me so much that i am quitting every platform but tumblr for however long it takes for me to get some sense knocked into my dumb fucking skull

[deadpogasm]

it’s been like 3 days since i was high oml

yap central in the tags