#and of course that's an incomparable bond

[sadprose-auroras]

'Dulcissima' - Lucius Verus x Fem!Reader SMUT

dulcissima: Latin; my sweetest

A/N: My god. I saw Gladiator 2 yesterday, and this utter filth just came pouring out of me. A major shoutout to everyone who has BEEN writing for this character, I just had to contribute my little part. Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Also take a shot every time I mention his big blue eyes and massive arms like hello I'm sorryyyy can you blame me!!! Also it starts off a bit shaky but trust me stick with it! I just can't not have some kind of backstory y'know

Word count: 3.3k

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut, breeding kink, brief size kink, cumplay, vague oral fixation, brief mentions of colonisation and injury

RATING: 18+. By clicking 'read more,' you are confirming that you are 18+

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Pressing the cloth against his skin made him wince, the muscles in his arm jump, and though you typically would not, you pulled it away.

“I’m sorry, but I must,” you said gently, and it occurred to him that nobody had treated him with such humanity and sweetness in such a long time. “It will be over soon.”

You continued to clean his wound as gently as possible, trying to ignore the heat emanating off his body simply due to your proximity. To distract him, you decided to make conversation. You were no stranger to what it felt like to be a slave. For your home to be destroyed, to be dehumanised in such a monstrous way.

“Hanno, where is your home?” you ask, as you continue to work.

“My home no longer exists,” he said with a level of defensiveness, eyes lowering to the floor. “Not as it once did.”

“My ancestral lineage hail from Aduatuci. My parents, my parents’ parents, have all been slaves. We do not know any different,” you said. “But I have dreams of a free Rome, one of hope. I have heard of it, and I know it can exist. If not for myself, then maybe for my future children.”

The lilt of hope in your voice softened his shoulders immediately, and he finally made eye contact with you.

“Numidia. Numidia was my home. I was taken as a slave as they took our land. I will not know peace until I see the world you speak of.” You nodded with understanding, carefully placing your hand on his knee. His demeanour was completely different to the survival instincts you witnessed in the stadium. He was kind, gentle.

“I believe we can fight for that kind of world,” you reassured.

Once you finished tending to him, you gathered your supplies and stood up to leave.

“May the Gods bless you, Hanno,” you said. He reached out to grab your hand as you turned to leave, a lightning bolt of electricity shooting through you. You turned back.

“Wait,” he said, letting your hand go. “Will you come and see me tonight? Please? I could do with some company.” The vulnerability in his bright eyes made your heart melt.

“Of course.”

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Somehow, yourself and Hanno developed a bond. It became a cycle. Each time he was forced into the arena, you watched with a pit in your stomach, tears welling in your eyes. Each time he was victorious, the relief that flooded through you was incomparable. Afterwards, you would tend to his wounds, talking about your hopes and dreams for the future. He would speak of his life back home, tell you all about his childhood and his father.

Each night, you would sneak into his cell to talk more. It had dawned on you that he was your only friend. The only person who had ever understood you.

One night after a horrifying battle in the arena, you snuck in to see him. Drawing your hood down, you nodded to the guard at the door who allowed you through. He had also become an ally to you both, closing the door behind you and moving away to give you some privacy.

Hanno, or Lucius, as he had recently revealed to you was his name by birth, was sitting with his hands clasped together, gazing thoughtfully at the floor, a crease between his brows. When he saw you, his leg ceased shaking and he stood up to embrace you. His strong arms engulfed you, and you immediately relaxed at the familiar feeling. The prospect of losing the familiarity between you was becoming more and more frightening to you. An air of heaviness clouded this particular visit. It felt different this time.

“I am so happy to see you,” he breathed out, pulling away, caressing your arm. Casual touches between you were comfortable and common, especially considering you were required to touch him all the time when tending to his injuries. And yet, every single time, a shiver ran down your spine. Likewise, every time he pulled away, you could feel yourself physically tense once again. He made you feel like you could breathe.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” you murmured, your bottom lip trembling, with what you weren’t entirely sure. It was like every time you saw him, your inhibitions were lowered more and more. You spoke without thinking, acted without speaking. It was dangerous.

“Oh now, dulcissima.” His hand caught at your chin, raising your head to look at him. Your heart immediately began racing rapidly, face flushing. The endearing term all the permission you finally needed, you gently cupped his face, gazing into his stark blue eyes, his long lashes. They stood out against the dirt on his face, the stained red blood smeared across his forehead. A shiver ran through you as his eyes flickered in pleasure.

“Han-“ you began. “Lucius,” you settled on for now. You could never decide what to call him. Either way, he was still the same. Strong, tender, solid, beautiful. Yours.

“I will always be yours, can you not see? This life and the next. You cannot lose me.”  

Unable to come up with any eloquent answer, you decided actions were more powerful. As if your lips had a mind of their own, you raised up ever so slightly on your toes to kiss him, your lips slotting together perfectly. His kiss was soft and gentle as you tested out the feeling with one another, his hands moving to protectively cup the sides of your face, thumb stroking your cheek making you exhale through your nose. Your lips explored his, moving together in perfect harmony, coming up for air every few moments.

Your head was spinning with desire, everything else in the world fell away when he kissed you. His hands had moved into your hair, fingers threading through it, not quite pulling. Your hands seemed to have a mind of their own, running all over his bare back, sides and chest. The feeling of the hard muscle underneath your fingertips, especially when you could feel it jump with sensitivity, made you want to lick your wet tongue all over his body. You wanted, needed, to devour every inch of him.

Hanno’s kisses grew hungrier by the minute, hands massaging and tugging your hair now, pulling it free from its style. You moaned into his mouth, which made him pull away for a moment and press a finger to your lips.

“You must be quiet, dulcissima.” You fought the urge to buckle your knees at the sound of such a sweet term in his rough voice.

“I know,” you murmured against his finger, absentmindedly scratching your nails down his back as you spoke, revelling in the way his mouth opened slightly at the feeling, eyelashes fluttering. “I will be, I promise.”

“Do you?” he asked, finger now teasing at the entrance of your mouth. You nodded ever so slightly, taking his finger in your mouth, swirling it with your tongue. You closed your eyes, coating his finger in wetness, moving your mouth up and down exploringly.

“Mmmhmm,” you moaned as an answer around his finger. The way he was watching you with hooded eyes, bottom lip taken between his teeth, was making the wetness pooling between your thighs impossible to ignore. He gazed at you as if you hung the stars, as if you were a goddess he was worshipping.

You took your mouth off his finger with a pop, and he began to trace it down your throat slowly, leaving a trail of your own spit. You trembled under his touch, lifting your chin to allow him more access. He reached the swell of your breasts, continuing down between them. You pushed your garments down off your shoulders, arched your back to close the gap between you, chest heaving in desperation. You would feel pathetic if it was anybody else. But he made you feel so safe. You could completely be yourself, express your desires.

“My Lucius, my strong one, please,” you breathed, hungry hands now tugging at his hair. “I need you to take me. Make me forget everything. I want to only remember you.”

Without warning, he swept you up in his arms, a gasp escaping your lips, as he expertly laid you down, hovering above you. You took a moment to take him in; his pink, pillowy lips, tousled hair, scruff beard, shining eyes. Not even the midnight sky, nor a sunset, or a shimmering ocean, was so breathtaking.  

“My love,” he scanned your face, causing your heart to skip a beat. “My love,” he repeated himself, beginning to kiss down your neck over your shoulder, across the top of your breasts, sucking and nibbling. Your entire body filled with goosebumps, and you briefly considered that you were not being nearly as quiet as you had hoped. It was so difficult when he was making you feel this overcome with ecstasy.

“I need to feel your skin on mine,” you whispered, tugging at his clothing. He lifted himself off you, standing before you. He removed his loincloth, tossing it aside, his erection standing before you. Your mouth watered as you took the sight of him in, face becoming impossibly hot. His manhood was proportionately large and thick, much like the rest of his broad, toned body. It made you feel so delicate in comparison. Various images flashed in your mind’s eye. A large, strong hand coming down hard on your ass. The other wrapped around your throat. His back muscles flexing as he pounded into you from behind, his hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming.

“You are so-“ you began to say, but couldn’t find the right words. Before you could finish your thought, he moved towards you again.

“Can I undress you?” he asked, hands moving steadily down your clothed body. You nodded vigorously.

“Please,” you squirmed, fluttering your lashes at your love. He motioned for you to sit up so he could pull your tunic off your head, placing it on the floor. You were left entirely bare, and if it were anybody else in front of you, you would feel self-conscious. But the way his fingertips gently stroked your sides, his big blue eyes bore into yours with care and understanding, made you feel like a goddess yourself.

“I want to worship you,” he began, covering his body with yours, mouth covering one of your breasts. “Lay you on an altar and pray over every single part of your body,” he murmured as he took your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue. You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders for stability.

“Tell me what else,” you whispered.

“Well,” he said between wet kisses over to your other breast. “Once I worshipped you, my goddess,” he said as he began to suck on your other nipple, tweaking the first with his fingers, making you arch your back. “I would then ravage you,” he said, not giving you a chance to respond except to moan into his mouth as he kissed you, the kiss all tongue and desperation. His beard was scratching at your delicate skin deliciously. You ached to feel this on your thighs.

You began to grind against his body as you kissed, attempting to relieve some frustration. You could feel his hardness pressing into your stomach, and it made your mouth water.

“Lucius,” you groaned into his mouth, perhaps a little too loudly.

Shhhhhh, he placed his hand over your mouth, tutting at you. He kept his hand there, his other one tracing a line down your stomach. Your entire body was shaking as you spread your legs apart, drops of wetness falling down your thighs.

“Quiet, my love,” he whispered, one singular finger finally, ever so gently, tracing your folds. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, bucking up into his hand. You needed more.

He noticed his reaction, groaning to himself. He couldn’t help but give you what you wanted. He used two fingers to apply more pressure, running up and down your soaked folds, hitting your clit and making your body twitch each time. He watched in amazement as you writhed in both desperation and pleasure, guiding his hand with your bodily movements.

Something switched in you at that moment, and you pushed his hand off your mouth, flipping yourselves over so you were now hovering above him.

“I need you in my mouth, lest I die,” you said breathlessly. He looked amused at your dramatics, but you felt his cock twitch against you.

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” he said, and you both chuckled. Wordlessly, you turned yourself around so your pussy was over his face, his cock standing proudly in front of you. It was throbbing, looking almost painful. It made you love him even more, that he wanted you this badly.

“So beautiful,” you murmured, using your thumb to swipe the precum dribbling out of his head, licking it curiously. His deep growl was animalistic, and you felt his nails digging into your ass as he took you in his mouth, devouring you just as he promised. Simultaneously, you moaned as you licked a stripe up the underside of him, spitting a generous amount before slowly taking him into your mouth.

Being unable to see him only made you feel closer, as you could feel his mouth reacting to what you were doing. At the same time, his suctioning and licking of your pulsing clit, licking up and down your folds, was making you groan against him, the reverberation contributing to his pleasure. You began to grind your hips against his face in rhythm with your head bobbing up and down, eyes fluttering open and closed in bliss. His beard scratching against your inner thighs was painfully delicious, even more so than your imagination. You could barely breathe with how fast you were taking him in your mouth, but you did not care.

When he took your clit between his teeth and gently tugged, you gasped in pleasure, making you gag. You pulled him out of your mouth, a line of spit following. You felt the vibrations of him laughing against you. You turned around so you were face-to-face again, your legs trembling.

“Did that feel good, my darling?” he asked, unable to help himself from drawing circles on your bundle of nerves with two fingers as he spoke.

“I-Oh-So-G-Good,” you choked out.

“Would you like me inside of you?” he asked, teasing your entrance with his fingers.

“Yes, please,” you begged. He wasted no time in flipping you over once again, using his strength to pull your legs up onto his broad shoulders, your ankles intertwining behind his neck.

“I am yours, yours, yours,” he repeated like a mantra. “Yours,” the last one came out with a groan, as he swiftly entered you halfway. Your breath was taken away in the best possible way, his thickness impossibly stretching you out.

“You’re so big,” you moaned, shaking your head, inadvertently clenching around him. He gritted his teeth.

“It feels so right. So right to be this close to you. I need you every day, every night, all the time,” he rambled, as he pushed all the way into you, bottoming out. You nodded rapidly in agreeance, finding it difficult to speak.

“Is that okay?” he asked, intertwining your fingers together above your head. You nodded again, licking your lips. Your mouth had gotten a little dry from hanging open in pleasure.

“I want you to fill me up like this forever,” you answered, tossing your head side to side deliriously. “I will always need you.”

Something flickered in Lucius’ eyes. He dropped one of your hands, instead pinning both of your wrists down with one hand. He used the other hand to draw circles on your clit, as he began to move inside you. Slowly, gently at first, but not for long.

Before you knew it, it felt as it he was going to split you apart. He was grunting with each thrust, your promises to keep quiet entirely forgotten. The rhythmic sound of your wetness as he moved in and out of you echoed throughout the cell, and it was quite possibly the most melodic sound he had ever heard. You could feel him deep within you, hitting your cervix which took your breath away each time.

Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, the veins in his arms protruding out. You moved your hands so he was no longer holding your wrists down, and he complied immediately. You needed to touch him. With shaking hands, you ran your fingertips all over his chest and stomach, feeling the muscles flexing with each thrust. You worked your way up over his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair, then back down to his arms. You dug your nails into his biceps, surely leaving marks.

“Fill me up with your seed, dulcissime,” you echoed his sentiment from earlier. “Make me ripe with a child so that we may carry on a hopeful legacy for generations to come.”

He groaned, profanities escaping his mouth in a deep, guttural voice.

“Say that again,” he demanded, fingers still circling your swollen, aching clitoris.

You gripped his hair in your hands, pulling him close to whisper in his ear.

“Get me pregnant, dulcissime. I need your hot, sticky seed inside of me.”

This undid both of you. You reached for one another, mouths slotting together in harmony. You stifled your moans with kisses, as you felt him spill inside you and warm you up. The feeling sent you over the edge, as you pulled his hair even harder to steady yourself. A warmth flowered all the way from your sternum to your extremities, your pussy pulsing around him as you rode out the high. Your entire body felt like it was floating, spots clouding your vision.

“My love, my darling,” Hanno murmured, his stomach rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. You kissed again, as he cupped your face gently.

Wordlessly, he gently, achingly, pulled himself from inside of you, and you both watched in awe as the point where your bodies met were no longer together. His seed was dribbling out of you, coating you and making you itch.

“Can I clean you up?” he asked gruffly, barely waiting for an answer as you sighed out, “God, yes,” as he moved down your body so his face was crowding between your thighs. He licked a swipe up you, making your entire body twitch with aftershock. You practically screamed, the overstimulation almost too much to handle. Almost. You shoved your fist into your mouth to stifle the noises.

You watched through hooded eyes as he licked up every drop of his own seed, grinding onto his face, chasing the pleasure. You were delirious, not a single thought in your mind beside Lucius. When he was finished, he wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and you moaned out loud at the sight. He returned to kiss you once more, and you could taste the familiar taste on his tongue, making your stomach swoop with desire.

Pulling away for a moment, he rolled over onto his back, pulling you with him so you were folded into his side, leg draped over his, his large arms engulfing you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your sweaty temple, wildly juxtaposing his actions from mere moments ago.

He gazed down at you with those incredible eyes, sighing blissfully. He moved a piece of hair from your face as he spoke his next words.

“I hope you know I meant every word, dulcissima. I want to build a future with you, for you, for our children. I vow to always protect you.”

You pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.

“We will build our home together,” you replied. And for the first time, the future you imagined, a future full of hope and possibility, felt closer than ever before.

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: You tend to forget that Sylus is a dangerous man. There are moments when reality decides to slap you across your face. It reminds you that he is unhinged— an untamed force of incomparable power.

Warnings: Death; he kills someone. People, actually. Sylus doing his job. Descriptions of violence, blood, etc. Licking of said blood (done by MC [you]. Don't ask why, I'm ashamed). MC (you) lowkey being obsessive of him because why not.

Author's note: Felt unhinged. Comments and reblogs are appreciated. <3

Your time spent with Sylus is always pleasant. Even with the constant banter, filled with your witty remarks and his teasing. It feels right. Everything seems to fall into place when you stand by him. This is natural; to embrace the rough edges of the other and sharpen it with your tongues. It feeds into your unlabeled bond. Two people dancing, never intertwining— not yet. Not lovers but not quite discernable from it.

Sylus is not forceful. At least, not anymore. Very persuasive at best. He knows exactly how to tug your heartstrings. You think it is because Mephisto has been out on “kitten duty” as Sylus so affectionately puts it. Just a nicer terminology of stalking you. He takes the time to learn more about this version of you. Invites you into his territory, his home. Has the twins deliver you clothes, trinkets, and whatever else he knows you love.

Anything that money can or cannot buy, it is yours so long as he thought of you while obtaining it.

“I thought this necklace from the auction would look nice on you. Throw it away if you don't like it.”

Sylus never tells you how much it costs. Or the price of anything he gifts you, for that matter. You know the number is likely to be in the millions. That's what he does— spoil you endlessly and ask that you discard whatever is not to your liking. You've tried protesting, insisting such gifts are far too much. And he does tone it down. But he could never resist adorning you in glorious luxury every once in a while. All he says is that you could stand to be a little greedier.

It goes beyond material pleasures. Sylus knows when you step into the N109 Zone, sent by the association to deal with whatever they need done. Sometimes through Mephisto, sometimes because you tell him. After every mission, whether it ends in success or failure, you'll know he's not far away. Mephisto's incessant caws only cease when you follow him back home— back to Sylus. What welcomes you are a set of red eyes, a quirked brow and a soft tug of his lips. His thumbs in the pocket of his pants, waiting for you as he always did.

Rinse, repeat.

Too comfortable. You've become complacent with that routine, and you are reminded of who exactly Sylus is. Infiltrate a protocore auction; that was your mission this time. An Aether Core fragment was rumoured to be the star of tonight's show. You should have expected Sylus to be here, too. Why would he not be? He was always interested in Aether Cores. The scene before you is familiar, the only difference is the man you've grown accustomed to.

“Well? What's going through your head? Don't tell me you've forgotten what exactly I do, sweetie.” He looks at you, piercing, bored. The term of endearment tastes bitter on your tongue, how ironic.

But you already learned that this expression is simply a mask. Sylus cannot afford to lose anything, so he gives away nothing. Only you could tell, of course you could. His breaths are heavy, deeper. There's a slight tremor in his voice. He stays deadly still as the bodies that lay at his feet. Splatters of blood on his cheek. Crimson coats his fingers, dripping, he's painted an eerie silence of death.

You had been compromised. One of the attendees blew your cover. And soon enough, the guns were pointed at you before you could even raise your fists. Yet, the bullets never came. Black-red mist decays people. Whoever was closest to you met their demise through Sylus's gun to their heads or even his bare hands. You watched the spectacle, rendered incapable. The stark contrast of the Sylus you know and this— this man who is the leader of Onychinus.

So why are you not afraid? This is who Sylus really is. Who he has to be despite the warmth and safety he provides for you. The same hands that cradle you are tainted, the heart he has given to you have rotten bits. A monster, soaked in an ocean of blood that only grows with each day. But it is still a heart, yes? He still chooses to love you, yes?

You walk towards him, stepping on carcasses. His thumbs are in his pockets; he's waiting for you again. Always. This time, you reach for them. This time, you nuzzle into his palms like a cat starved of affection. You look into his eyes and don't break away even as you lick his fingertips clean. Sylus's hands were meant to cradle you, damn whoever's blood decided to taint what's yours.

“You always said I could be greedier with you. Don't start complaining now.”

[puzzled-pegasus]

Percy and Paul headcanons because I need something sweet rn

The first time Percy called Paul dad was accidentally and they both looked at each other like 😧 and then paul gave percy a big hug and probably told sally really excitedly later

Paul texts very professionally and in complete sentences like a nerd. "Hello, Percy, I hope you are having a good day. Have you gotten your mom a Christmas gift yet? Also, do you have any ideas for what she might like me to get her? Thanks. 😊"

He goes to all of Percy's basketball games that he can and probably tries to play with him sometiemes idk I think that would be cute if they shot hoops together

This is more canon than headcanon but I feel like we all just collectively forgor that Paul has taken Percy crabbing before 🦀

Also imagine being a step parent and the bio parent is a literal god like how do you deal with that you'd feel so incomparable (although Posiedon is of course kinda deadbeat so oh well Paul wins that one)

Paul helping teach Percy how to drive

Sometimes when Percy asks his mom for help with something she's like "oh honey can you help him I'm busy" but she's actually just sneakily getting them to bond >:)

Omg imagine there being an argument and then Paul comes and apologizes to Percy and Percy with the Gabe trauma is like :000 wtf a grown man apologizing to Me⁉️

I think Percy would talk to Paul abt cars and paul tries to engage but he doesn't actually know that much abt cars lol

[siriuslystyle1989]

Hard Liquor Mixed With a Bit of Intellect (Part 4)

Modern!Azriel x reader

Warning: Angst, Cheating, Elain bashing

series masterlist main masterlist

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As days faded into weeks, and weeks faded into months, Y/n and Azriel's relationship became a well known fact within their inner circle.

Fortunately for Y/n, after that dinner, her and Feyre's sister Nesta had sparked up an unbreakable bond that was only strengthened by Nesta and Cassian's unlikely relationship.

As an autumnal breeze swayed its way through her apartment, Y/n breathed in a sigh. This was her favourite weather, sweater weather. Days got shorter and evenings drew long, allowing for the perfect ambiance when she lit a few scented candles.

Taking a long drag of her cigarette, Y/n began to reminisce on the way her life had changed. She never thought she would have so many friends. The hours of gossip her and Mor would share was incomparable to anything she had ever experienced before, smutty book shopping with Nesta had become a favourite pastime, visiting Feyre to see her and baby Nyx was also incredibly enjoyable. Y/n had even seemingly cracked Amren who appeared to have a soft spot for the girl.

The only one she had never properly spoken to was Elain.

Elain seemed to veer away from conversation with Y/n. She had brushed it off as shyness but she saw the animated way she talked to Azriel and couldn't help but wonder what her intentions were.

Y/n took another drag of her cigarette, these thoughts swimming through her mind as the doorbell rang.

Hastily, she put the stick of nicotine out, moving towards the door.

As the block of oak swung open, she was met with the face of Mor. However, not gracing her usual giddy smile but rather laced with worry and remorse.

"Y/n, I..." she spoke, hesitating.

"Oh my god what's wrong?" Y/n replied placing her arms around Mor to try and ease the distain on her face.

"Can... can I come in?" Mor spoke again, quietly, not in her usual boisterous manner.

"Yes of course." Y/n spoke, clearly confused.

As Mor sat on the plush sofa, she rejected Y/n's offer of a beverage.

"Y/n honey, I need to tell you something."

"Yeah? What's up."

"I'm gonna need you to sit down."

Following her friends instruction, Y/n took a seat next to Mor. Grabbing the girls hands Mor spoke up once again.

"There's no easy way to tell you this." She sighed, looking up as if about to cry.

"I saw... well me and Feyre saw... well Azriel and Elain... kissing."

Y/n's heart dropped in disbelief. There's just no way. She began to shake her head.

"No, no he wouldn't- no." She shook her head as tears began to fall.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry he's such a dick, you deserve so much better."

"But why- I- I don't understand."

Mor brought her arms around Y/n and squeezed tightly.

"Shhhh, I know honey, I know."

As Y/n's sobs began to quiet down Mor spoke softly.

"Do you want me to stay?" She asked, wanting Y/n to get the comfort she needed.

"No, I- I think I need to be left alone." Y/n replied, her tear stained eyes looking up into Mor's.

"Okay, well text me if you need anything at all, either me, Feyre or Nesta will come, kay?"

"They all know?" Y/n looked down to her feet.

"Hey, don't be embarrassed, its not your fault. We're all seething at Azriel, Rhys and Cass included, he won't walk away from this with no consequences, trust me."

Y/n let out a shaky laugh "Thanks"

As Mor walked out of the apartment, Y/n began to feel icy rage take over her, travelling up her like a wave.

She moved towards her phone, picking it up and making her way to Azriels contact.

BLOCK.

.............................................................................................................................

Azriel laid in bed, scrolling through his phone. He really needed to stop doing that.

He struggled to sleep when Y/n wasn't next to him.

Two more nights and she would be back in his arms again. They had been apart for a week, Y/n having loads of college work to finish and not wanting to have any distractions.

Two more nights.

Putting his phone down, Azriel tried to snuggle down into the sheets, tightly shutting his eyes.

He felt the coldness of the other side of his bed seemingly reach out to him. Calling him to talk to his love.

Opening his phone once more, he began to text her.

Azriel: I miss you lying next to me, can't wait to see you sweetheart.

*Message not sent, recipient has blocked you.*

"What-"

Confused Azriel tried to send another text.

The same thing happened.

no- why would she do that. He hadn't done anything to upset her. They had been sending "I love you" and "I miss you" just hours before.

Why would she suddenly block him?

Suddenly realisation slithered its way into his mind.

Oh.

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A/n: Sorry for the slow updates im trying my best </3

Taglist:

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lilah-asteria

[joejhang]

anyone who says jinx is a better older sister than vi can fucking choke because they are so incomparable it's killing me. vi was a literal child when she took on both a sibling AND parent role towards powder. like hg was literally 15 years old. and despite her age and their shitty circumstances vi still did really fucking well as an older sister. she always protected and defended powder, always tried to do what was best for and by her, never downgraded her or made fun of her and always made sure to comfort and support her. everyone who says "vi abandoned her!" like do you know how stupid you sound. yes it wasn't right for vi to lash out the way that she did, but she was a teenage girl who just lost (another) parental figure (indirectly caused by her younger sister, no less) and who went thru some terrible trauma in the span of like...half an hour tops and even tho powder obv just wanted to help, it was partially her fault, so of fucking course vi would be upset and angry, she's literally grieving and trying to process all of that. and she literally retreated as soon as she came to her senses and realised she'd hurt powder. she didn't abandon her, she walked away to catch her breath, and kept powder within eyesight and as soon as she saw silco was going to run back to her but was forcibly stopped by marcus??? like she was literally fucking knocked out and arrested. she never left powder by choice and spent the next seven years living through hell on earth thinking about finding her sister again. "jinx is a better older sister than vi" OR she's an actual adult who's had a good role model for an older sister/parental figure and also just has an entirely different personality and entirely different bond with isha than vi and powder had??? jfc arcane fandom makes me wanna tear my hair out sometimes.

[erbiumspectrum]

Hey Lena, any tips for how to make friends in uni as a nerdy but introverted/socially anxious girlie? 🥺 thank youu

Hi!

I need you to know I saw this ask and immediately thought, "Did I just get a message from my past self?" 😅 Nerdy and introverted? Check. Used to have very bad social anxiety? Check. I was in therapy though and it was immensely helpful! I'm still a little shy but doing incomparably better, so I can tell you what I've learnt and hopefully some of it can help you too :)

Excuse the language, but first of all, you need to give yourself a fucking break. Shy people, we tend to fixate on ourselves: our looks, our posture, on whether what we just said was weird, and so, all our flaws (both real and imaginary) appear magnified tenfold - but only to us. Because truth is, nobody else is judging you half as harshly as you're judging yourself. Nobody is analyzing all your jokes or the way you walk. If you trip or say something awkward, it genuinely doesn't matter. It happens to everybody sometimes, it's okay. Remember that there's nothing wrong with you. Maybe you're shy, maybe you're easily overwhelmed, maybe you have very little experience making friends - but none of these make you inherently weird. So give yourself a break. You're sincerely doing a lot better than you think, I promise.

Small talk is actually not a bad thing, no matter what some edgelords may try to tell you. I used to spark up a lot of conversations early on in uni by bringing up things like the last test (because most of the time I'd get a mildly pained sigh in response and then we'd bond over how hard it was and how the professor was crazy lol) or the upcoming lab class ("Any interesting exercises in your schedule?") or how my commute to uni that day wrecked me and hey are you a commuter? Oh, you live in a dorm, how do you like it? And many other things of this sort, because if you think about it, uni is a neverending source of conversation topics when you're a student talking to another student.

You know how shy people are advised to just ask questions because everybody loves talking about themselves? That's not a bad advice. The trick is to be genuinely curious about other people. Don't ask just to say something, ask to hear what that other person has to say. This is helpful for two reasons: it takes the focus away from you (which is exactly where shy people shouldn't keep it) by directing it at the other person, and it actually helps to keep the conversation going, because it allows you to find either another thing that might interest you about that person or something to share about yourself.

Maybe it's obvious, but don't hide yourself. I know it's a lot easier to just curl up in a corner with your phone, but you gotta put yourself out there. Hang out with the rest of your course mates outside the lecture hall as you're all waiting for the professor. Take your time packing up afterwards instead of dashing straight for the exit. Don't look for that secluded spot where you can hide safely with a book (even though your introvert instinct tells you to do just that), be where the other students hang out.

Sometimes you have to keep choosing someone. Storytime with a moral: I took a liking to one of my current friends very early in the first semester. She seemed like exactly the kind of person I wanted to stick with in uni. I'd always come up to her and talk to her first but she hardly ever did the same. For some time I'd think, "Welp, clearly she doesn't dislike me, but she doesn't seem to like me much either." Now I can't even remember when that changed, but in an honest conversation we had maybe last month (so after almost two years of knowing each other!!), she told me she often struggles with figuring out whether someone likes her and wants her around or not, so she usually just stays away. You aren't the only introvert out there. Maybe the person you're trying to befriend is also a little anxious and needs a bit more time and effort from you. Don't give up too easily!

Not all people are your people and that's okay. You'll find that trying to talk to someone continuously feels like a chore no matter your good intentions. That doesn't mean there's something wrong with you or with them. Everybody can't click with everybody and that's fine!

And lastly: "different friends for different things" is a liberating philosophy. Maybe there's this one person in this one class that you always sit with and get along with well, but it doesn't seem like either of you wants to take it any further than that. Cool! That's your buddy X from Y class. Not everyone has to be your bestie who knows all your secrets and shares all your interests. Be open to the concept of casual friends, so that you don't miss out on the more meaningful relationships by chasing someone who's just not feelin' it if you know what I mean.

Good luck my fellow introvert. Remember getting better at making friends is a process but also a skill that can be practiced and polished. You got this, I'm rooting for you!

[sometimesoliloquy]

1x08 "Jezebels" / 6x05 "Janine"

Parallels

***

After last week's episode I was having a lot of thoughts & feelings about the Moira/June conflict. I went back and rewatched the two "Jezebels" episodes from s1, where we see June and Moira reunited for the first time since they were separated trying to escape at the train station (in the s1 flashback), and was struck by the number of parallels both echoing and contrasting 6x05.

In 1x08 "Jezebels" (notably, the first time we are introduced to Jezebels, both the specific establishment in former Boston, and the concept in general), June and Moira catch each other's eyes across the room. It's a shock for both of them to see the other there (both good and bad). They emotionally embrace in the restroom.

Interestingly, Janine is mentioned in this scene, and Moira is quite dismissive of her.

It's interesting to see the evolution of the various characters' relationships and how this comes into play in the fight in 6x05. Back in s1, Janine was often treated as just the wacky, mentally damaged dingbat. She was dismissed as "crazy" and was often the butt of the joke between bff's Moira and June. But a lot has happened between this scene and season 6, and June and Janine have had the chance to get so much closer. June became protective of Janine, starting to see her as a '"little sister" and see her as a whole person--her kind spirit, never-failing optimism, and strength as a woman, as a good friend and mother in spite of all the terrible shit that happened to her. Moira cares about her, and getting her out, of course. But something has shifted and now it is June and Janine who have been bonded together "in the trenches", and Moira and June who have been out of sync, for some time. This all feeds into the later conflict where Moira is resentful and quite possibly a little envious of this changed dynamic.

***

In 6x05 "Janine", we have very similar reunion scenes in which Janine and June lock eyes, and later share an emotional embrace, along with Moira.

side note: I love how the subtitles of the song lyrics playing over the background make it seem like they're saying "hey" to each other :)

***

Going back I found this scene interesting in hindsight. in 6x05, Moira is frustrated with June and calls her out on what she views as selfishness. It's right after June admits "I wasn't thinking about you, I was thinking about her" (Janine).

Again, it seems to be triggered by Moira feeling left out of the loop, and interestingly it's very much in contrast to their first reunion in Jezebels in 1x08, where Moira starts "What about you? How's Waterford" and June replies "Forget him, I just want to hear about you. Tell me everything."

Notably, relating what happened after she and June split up and she was recaptures, Moira says "They didn't take me back" (to the Red Center). "I was a 'corrupting influence'. They took me somewhere else." I picked up on this as something she and June unfortunately do have in common by season 4. Moira may have assumed June would be tortured (quite likely at the same facility) after Angels' Flight, but it doesn't seem like they probably ever talked about it.

***

The argument in 6x05 ultimately ends with Moira telling June that she loves her, echoing their heartfelt goodbye in 1x08.

It's moving, but there's still an unavoidable sadness to the resolution, because the fact is things have changed between Moira and June. They will always be family, they'll always love each other "so fucking much"/ "all of the time", but they'll probably never be back to that place where they were best friends, always in sync. Their friendship, their dynamic, has shifted due to external forces, the divergent paths they've gone down--both full of incomparable, but different suffering and trauma. The obvious truth is that Moira has become (somewhat ironically given their dynamic in pre-Gilead flashbacks) much more in sync with Luke, and maybe with other refugees and Mayday folks as well. And June is more in sync with Janine, and others who were handmaids, or in Gilead longer. And I think we all understand that feeling when we realize a friendship has unalterably shifted. It's often inevitable, and is no one's fault, but it still hurts.

***

As a bonus I wanted to touch on a scene from 1x09 "Bridges". This is where June gets Fred to take her back to Jezebels to procure the Mayday package Alma has told her about. Fred brings Moira (who he knows as "Ruby") to the room as a "present" for June, and we sickeningly learn that June and Moira sadly have another trauma in common--being raped by this dirtbag. Once they're able to get rid of Fred, they have a bit of a heated exchange. Once again we see Moira being dismissive of the other handmaids: "risking your life because Alma said so, fucking Alma?" and we're reminded again that June has known the other handmaids so much longer and has so much more in common with them now due to their shared experiences.

I've noted before that I think Moira buried down a lot of her PTSD once she got to Canada. There are probably a myriad of personal reasons. Maybe the hurt and rage just felt too huge of a monster to let out. But it seems perhaps in part as an attempt to try and assimilate, to be the "good" kind of refugee who doesn't make waves, doesn't make people too uncomfortable with her anger. It's interesting to note also, that this seems very much in line with the attitude we find her stuck in above. The don't fight back, just keep your head down and stay in line kind of mindset she shows while trapped in Jezebels is notably similar to how we start to see her act (and counsel June to act) as a refugee in Canada in s4/5. And it's striking because I always thought of Moira as a fighter--we see her so involved in activist causes in pre-Gilead flashbacks, her rebelliousness in the red center, and going to anti-Gilead protests in Canada in s2/3, etc.

But I think it's really important here to look at this in the context of race and history, which is something the show really doesn't seem to do? And I realized, yeah it makes sense that Moira would feel empowered to be outspoken and be a women's activist in the US before Gilead came to power, before all the shit hit the fan and they still thought they were living in a post-feminist, post civil rights world where certain rights could never be taken away. It makes sense she would feel empowered to enact peaceful protests in a Canada that was still outraged at Gilead and compassionate and supportive towards refugees. But in the context of Gilead, specifically of the dehumanizing brutality of Jezebels, and when Canada starts turning dangerously toward anti-refugee sentiment--where probably the most dangerous thing to be is an angry, outspoken black woman refugee--of course she would start making herself smaller and quieter and more "palatable" out of self-preservation. June, by contrast, comes from a place of relative privilege. It's not to say that she doesn't suffer and isn't punished for her acts of rebellion, she is. But contextually it makes sense for her to generally feel freer to express anger, violence and anti establishmentism in a world that has more tolerance for these things coming from a white person, not just "now" in the context of the show but historically in America and the world.

And we see this here in 1x09, just how much Moira has been beaten down, how much she has become resigned to just keeping her head down so she can just survive as long as she can. Here June gives her "pep talk", telling Moira "you keep your fucking shit together ,you fight!" And of course later we see Moira, bolstered by these words, killing a "patron" and donning his clothes to escape.

What I didn't remember, though, was this little line Moira responds with at the time:

I found this so interesting and relevant both in the context of 6x05 and in the larger context of s4 and 5 in general. Because I think "I was doing all right until I saw you again" sums up exactly how Moira feels in s4/5 as well. I've also said before that I think June, with all her loud, messy trauma coming hot into Canada in s4, really triggered Moira and her (largely repressed) trauma. I believe she thought she was doing fine--she had a girlfriend, work with refugees she cared about, the group therapy circle she was leading. But June's fresh, raw anger, her apparent erraticness and sometimes single-track need for revenge brought up all the stuff under the surface for Moira. Some of it, as we saw, was guilt for "leaving June behind". Some of it was resentment for feeling like she owed June, had to "live her life" taking care of Luke and Holly. But a lot I think was seeing an echo of her own rage and hurt mirrored back to her; the emotions she buried down and now doesn't know how to deal with, doesn't even feel like she's given the space to have.

And so, somewhat irrationally, she blames June for this. But just like she needed the reminder of her strength and ferocity in 1x09 to fight for her life and freedom, she also needs the reminder that trauma doesn't just go away because you've convinced yourself you've moved on. It needs to be dealt with if there's ever a hope of really getting to the other side. And keeping your head down may help you survive, but it won't make you feel fulfilled when you know injustice is happening (the same kind that happened to you) and you're not doing anything to counter it.

[mythalism]

I cackled at your post lamenting PR disaster after *that* Mythal screen, ngl XD

Super curious to hear your thoughts on qunari specific line with Mythal in Crossroads, where she claims to still love Solas. (in fact, that both of them still do). Also the fact that the foil to their relationship there seems to be motherly love is…messy. Their whole situationship is.

it on EIP Gaming youtube channel

i did see this though i wasnt able to watch the full vid at the time, i just watched it now. someone else also asked me my thoughts on this in my inbox so ill just answer this one, but i think its so funny that people are asking me about it hehehe. i wasnt surprised by it at all i think it makes perfect sense. of course she loved solas and of course she still does. just because she loves him doesnt mean shes not an absolute freak. it doesnt mean her love isnt literally poisonous. its still love, but shes a corrupted spirit. she loves being a god and the power over other people it gives her. shes not like other girls. shes a freak, shes a weirdo. anyway. my point is that i think shes right when she says that "we" (both rook and us as the audience) genuinely cannot understand the bond they had because their immortality would have made it something unrecognizable to us. shes being racist when she says it but idk why anyone would expect her to be anything but racist. however i think the sentiment when turned towards the audience is true. they were spirits together. they have known each other for an incomprehensible amount of time. we will never be able to understand the extent of their devotion even if it was ultimately ruinous. you can love someone and still abuse and manipulate them.

as for rook randomly bringing up fucking SHATHANN (no shade to miss shathann, i actually thought she was very interesting and the highlight of taash's storyline and that their relationship was compelling).... rook is a loser and an idiot and this is just them acting in congruence with their overall characterization as a loser and an idiot. if anything it actually proves mythal's point that rook cannot understand their relationship when they randomly start bringing up shathann and taash. dumbass fucking thing to say. i think its extremely reductive and literally just makes rook look so stupid. solas and mythals relationship is complex because they COMMITTED WAR CRIMES TOGETHER. it is so incomparable to taash and shathann having a very relatable and typical teenager/mom conflict over taash's identity and finding themselves. meanwhile solas and mythal were literally creating a bioweapon. anyway.

the mother implication doesnt actually bother me LOL. ive been saying the vibes are oedipal since before this game came out. again, we cannot understand it. people say things like "mother/son" and i even throw around "oedipal" and "freudian" but genuinely the ancient elves had such different conceptions of relationships due to both their immortality but also their origin at spirits that there is really nothing comparable. they did not have families and they probably had very different ideas of romantic relationships. this is something i really wish the game had explored more lol add it to the list! we just get glimpses of how they cared about each other. piecing together the 20,000 years is impossible. i believe it was intended that way. we are supposed to struggle to quantify it. i doubt they themselves could label the nature of their relationship if they tried. "love" is the closest word that exists.

as for mythal agreeing to help because she loves him? yeah. of course. im not surprised it works. she loves him, whatever the fuck that means to her. she also has a miserable lonely existence. yes she used him as a tool but he cannot function as a tool to her anymore, not in her sorry state, and so she is able to see him as a man and thus let him go. though maybe shes bamboozling everyone, morrigythal is about to pull her out of that statue again in da5 and pull one over on us, and she released his ass just to get him off the chessboard so she can get her reckoning. a girl can hope

[some-sick-deja-vu]

hi! i saw in your about me that you like getting asks, so if you don't mind, i'd love hearing your headcanons for hannigram if you have any! i'm desperate for more content about these two-

I'm so sorry for taking a long time replying to this!! I do have quite a lot of headcanons about our boys; here are some:

Post-fall, Will is scarier and more off-the-rails than Hannibal when he gives in and Becomes. Will's savage, merciless side turns Hannibal on like crazy and leads to a ton of impulsive sex during/right after their hunts.

On the other hand, Hannibal also feels constantly protective, knowing that Will is new to this "savage pleasure they share" and is naturally predisposed to run on animal instinct when the craving kicks in and his "moral" person suit is now gone.

There's also the factor of Will's killer side having been pent up for so many years while Hannibal never repressed his. It tends to make Will reckless and hot-headed in the hunt, particularly due to his drive for justice (so yeah, their victims are almost exclusively Terrible People).

Sometimes, they bicker about this because Hannibal wants to protect Will / their newfound happiness from them potentially being caught or killed, while Will thinks Hannibal needs to trust him more.

And by bickering, I mean heated arguments which lead into wild, hot angry-sex, then they make up like the besotted idiots in love they are and continue being adoring Murder Husbands.

When they first get together, Hannibal and Will are both absurdly, insanely jealous about each other, but Will is even more so. However, with time, as their love grows and that trust solidifies, Will comes to realize that Hannibal will never leave him and truly does worship him equally. Meanwhile, Hannibal comes to see that Will genuinely wants only him and their life together, and isn't secretly regretting the loss of his former life (at all, far from it!). More after the break. ❤️

Hannibal spoils Will silly with love, attention, praise, indulgent gifts, gourmet food, tours of the world's most transcendent beauties (all of which pale in comparison to Will himself, according to H), murder victim "gifts" and tableau tributes, and of course, mind-blowing/bed-breaking sex. All the damn time.

Will and Hannibal can barely keep their hands off each other at the slightest provocation and occasionally come way too close to getting caught fucking in semi-public locations.

Hannibal surprises Will by getting Winston back for him -- one of my favorite headcanons as seen in a few fics and wonderful fanarts! Makes me cry every time! And Will takes in a few more strays once he and Hannibal settle down in their new marital home. 🐶. He knows Hannibal can never say no to him, even when he brings home the scruffiest-looking pups. When Will says "Please," with those big blue eyes, it's game over every time. ❤️

Hannibal is used to being the one who spoils Will, and they both love this dynamic so much; it's healing for their individual emotional wounds and bonds them together with incomparable love.

However, Will also loves taking care of Hannibal and does so at any opportunity. He is equally fond of treating Hannibal by going along to fancy society events he doesn't really like, just to make H. happy and be by his side, shown off as the gorgeous husband Will is.

Will loves to give Hannibal massages and body worship-centric sex, and insists on cooking for them sometimes, to give Hannibal a break and pamper him in return.

And of course, sometimes the most thoughtful gesture is for Will to wear one of the (many blush-inducing) lingerie sets Hannibal got for him because even though he feels a little self-conscious and silly at first, he knows Hannibal will love it.

The results speak for themselves when the house staff shows up the next morning to find the husbands apologizing and helping to set the now totally sex-wrecked house to rights after they screwed in every single room/surface for hours. 🥰

[kotegiris]

[Main Story] Episode 2: This is where you belong, Part 6: Bonds

subbed previous chapter ✧ all

proofread: @hotaruchoucho

Chapter 16: Devil Butlers

【Devil's Palace - Basement Storehouse】

Knock, knock…

Opens…

Lucas: Excuse me.

Berrien: Lucas-san, we’ve been waiting for you.

Miyaji: Hmph…

Lucas: Oh my, Miyaji’s here too.

Lucas: It’s been a while since the three of us were together like this. In the past, we used to gather like this and drink wine together~

Lucas: You remember, right, Berrien?

Berrien: Yes, of course I do.

Lucas: Uhm… When was it again? There was a day when the three of us all drank so much, right?

Lucas: If I remember right, Berrien and I got quite drunk… And Miyaji had to look after us…

Lucas: Do you remember, Miyaji?

Miyaji: Berrien. Let’s get down to business already.

Lucas: Ignoring me, huh…

Lucas: You’re so cold, Miyaji. Even though you weren’t like this in the past.

Miyaji: The past and present are different.

Miyaji: You haven’t forgotten what you did, right?

Lucas: I could never forget. I still remember it clearly to this day.

Miyaji: Hmph…

Berrien: Both of you, let’s leave it at that.

Berrien: Today, I asked you to come because I have an important matter to talk to you about. 

Lucas: An important matter?

Berrien: Yes.

Berrien: I’ll be straightforward. Let’s welcome some new Devil Butlers.

Miyaji: I had a feeling that it was going to be about that.

Miyaji: It’s because of the appearance of the Intelligent Angels, right?

Berrien: Yes.

Berrien: Currently, we are facing an unprecedented threat.

Berrien: The existence of Intelligent Angels is a threat. It’s incomparable to any other threats we’ve faced before.

Berrien: Furthermore… This time a second Intelligent Angel appeared.

Berrien: It was already quite the hard battle to drive one Intelligent Angel into a corner…

Berrien: If in the future… A third or fourth Intelligent Angel appears, then…

Berrien: In the worst case scenario, we may be completely annihilated. 

Lucas: And so… You think we should increase the number of Devil Butlers and strengthen our combat ability.

Lucas: I see…

Lucas: Mhm, I agree.

Miyaji: I do too.

Berrien: Thank you.

Miyaji: Since this time our goal is to strengthen our combat ability, then…

Miyaji: That means the new Devil Butlers must have combat experience. If they aren’t strong, it would be meaningless. 

Berrien: Precisely.

Lucas: But… Only humans who have experienced despair can become a Devil Butler.

Lucas: Someone who’s strong and experienced despair, huh… Speaking from personal experience, it'll be hard to find people like that.

Berrien: Regarding that… I already have my eye on some people.

Miyaji: Really?

Berrien: Yes. If they become our comrades…

Berrien: I’m sure they’ll be of great help.

Lucas: If Berrien’s going that far, then there’s no need to worry.

Lucas: But… What’s important is their will.

Lucas: And whether or not they have the resolve to live as Devil Butlers…

Miyaji: Yeah…

Lucas: By the way… Who are the people you have your eye on?

Berrien: It’s…

END

[nut-today]

The Frequency That Found Him

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The days went on.

Audy went back to her regular radio shifts, spinning songs, throwing jokes into the mic, and pretending like she hadn’t lowkey psychoanalyzed someone’s entire childhood over a cookie delivery.

Nuraga, with all his emotional armor, starting to tune in not just out of habit, but because he wants to hear her voice. He even mentioned it to Vazhimi and Robi. A quiet flex disguised as a casual mention, like, “Oh, by the way—recognize the voice we always hear on the radio in the car? That’s Audy.”

It wasn’t just the music. Audy's segments always give soothes every time Nuraga listened to it. It was the way she talked about life, little pieces of wisdom slipped between jokes and song intros. Thoughtful, calming. Real. Nuraga didn’t even realize how much he needed that kind of voice in his day until it was there.

“This one show’s actually really good,” Nuraga mumbled one night when he was stuck in a traffic with Robi way before he knew about Audy being the DJ.

Robi, seeing how Nuraga suddenly started praising Audy and wanted to rent the apartment unit right next to hers, immediately connected the dots with Vazhimi.

"Tu orang abis dikasih kue sama Audy jadi seger lagi dah auranya."

"Namanya juga amunisi."

Audy and Nuraga were back in touch—messages, little WhatsApp story replies—that made Audy wanted to smile about it. But part of her braced quietly, unsure if this was something real or just something temporary dressed up in hope. That's why, on a sunny afternoon—too sunny to carry so much emotional weight—Audy decided it was time to tell Nuraga that her segment that night would be a little heavier than usual. Something a little personal. Not for drama. Just for... truth.

Because if he was building walls, she wanted him to know that she understood. She had some of her own too, that she's been careful too.

"Tonight's topic’s... I’m doing a serious topic on tonight’s broadcast.”

Translation: please understand me. I’m not just sunshine and playlists. I’ve got my own ghosts too.

Nuraga hummed. Of course he’s going to tune in. Without Audy saying "Please listen,” Nuraga was already doing that, every single night. That day, by the time the intro jingle played, Nuraga was already in place—leaning forward, elbows on table. He looked like a student waiting for test results—serious, focused, not blinking.

The broadcast opened just like it always did—easy laughter and a playlist full of warm beats. The first part of the broadcast played out like always: bright, bouncy, she cracked a few jokes, teased the weather—perfectly Audy. But beneath the cheer, he could feel it.

Something was coming.

In the studio, Audy took a deep breath. Long pause before the topic got deeper.

“My dad always said I talked too much,” Audy began, low voice but warm. “Which is ironic, considering now as a DJ radio I get paid to talk.”

There was a laugh.

Then a pause.

“He used to joke I was too loud, too talkative. The little child of me was kind of hurt when he said that." She muttered. "But then, it's incomparable when I got to experience the hurt of... seeing... he passed away too soon."

His eyes widened. Breath hitched.

"He passed away without any warning, any goodbye, not for any chance for me to say anything. It's a calm and peaceful passing they said. But what’s peaceful about a dad disappearing on a soon-to-enter middle school daughter who bonded so tight with him? Nothing but scar. Unfairly painful."

He listened, hands twirling on the back of his neck now.

She then talked about grieving. How her father used to cook the best meal for her, how he shaped her, how one day he didn’t come home, how grief sometimes still sat quietly beside her uninvited. And that absence echoes louder than words. Nuraga hadn't seen this coming. He had expected her to talk about relationships or some quirky life lesson, but not this.

Not loss.

The girl let out a long breath. She hoped he knew—really knew—that she understood his kind of pain too. She knew how hard it is to carry a pain that lingers even when the world keeps spinning.

"... That's the thing with grief, you know? It doesn’t RSVP. It just shows up. In the middle of your workday, or when you’re baking cookies, or—worse—when someone says, ‘Just move on' Like it’s that simple. Because you know for sure it's not just about missing them. It’s missing who you were when they were still around."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[jsprnt]

Healing Hearts PT. 19 | Virgil van Dijk

Would a fresh start bring you more than just a new job?

A/N: AHHH babes, we're done with the story!! Thank you all so much for taking the time to read something I put a lot of time and energy into. Hopefully this story met your expectations when you first started reading! It's going to be weird to be done with this story, but don't worry! My (VVD, other Liverpool players as well) requests are definitely open. Please don't hesitate and send me a request if you want. Again thank you so much for reading. Love you all and stay healthy! <3

W/C: 2.878

Summary: Y/N L/N is a very skilled and praised physiotherapist. A certain event pushing her for a fresh start, as a physiotherapist for Liverpool FC. One question always being in the back of her mind: Will she be able to let go of her past and allow herself to experience new things?

"It is weird, especially since we worked together for three almost four years on the same team." I say, my arms crossed in front of me as I talk to Ten Hag.

He'd pulled me aside after the match, hugging me warmly after noticing me walk back from the team's changing room.

Liverpool had just drawn against Manchester United, a underwhelming game after all of us had grown confidence about winning easily. That was the thing about football, it could go any way- no matter how much you train and prepare.

"We could work together again, if you accept my offer." He says, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I laugh, raising my brows at the sudden comment.

"You know my salary has gotten much higher than when I was at Ajax!" I joke, smile on my face as he laughs.

I could only decline his offer with a joke. In the past when I got a job offer by a rival team than of the one I worked for I didn't really care about the rivalry. It was just work to me. Yes, of course I grew close to players and staff, but it wasn't a factor which I let affect my career choices.

But Liverpool FC was different, nothing close to the bonds I formed in my former work environments. It was a community, a family even. The relationships I had with the players and staff were incomparable to what I had experienced in the past. Adding to this, I didn't really like the vibe the team gave, especially certain players.

So joining a rival team- Manchester United was definitely a 'no' for me.

"If it's you and your expertise- I could easily make sure you'd join our physio team and be paid handsomely."

"Very flattering, but I think-especially now, I'm very happy with my choice."

"Stubborn as always, makes me remember when you insisted the injury time of players could be shortened if we went by your methods."

"I was right every single time though!"

"That's why I'm not going to push this any further. I'm sure you have a good reason."

I feel a sudden presence behind me, turning my head to meet Virgil who had just walked out of the press corner. His expression looking a bit irritated.

"There's our Dutch captain!" Ten Hag exclaims, the men giving each other a handshake and hug.

"Needed to hear what you're convincing my girlfriend to do." He jokes, pearly teeth showing as he smiles.

"Right, my wife told me about you two, you two fit together very well." He compliments, pointing to us.

"Oh how's Bianca? I miss gossiping with her." I say, asking about his wife.

"She's alright, adjusting to life in Manchester still. You know those two didn't stop talking from the second they saw each other until they left each others side." He says to Virgil. 

"Being a baby physio was boring at times!" I shrug, defending myself. Feeling Virgil's arms wrap around my shoulder as he chuckles.

The conversation ends a couple minutes later, Virgil and me getting in my car.

"What did he talk to you about?" He asks as I start the car.

"Old times, tried to convince me to join his team." I laugh, grinning at the thought.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, but I denied. I don't like some of their players- give me weird vibes." I say, glancing at his confused expression.

"You know who I'm talking about, the punchable looking one, he looks like a super villain." I add, focusing on the road.

"The one with the abuse allegations- Antony, like why haven't they thrown the fucker out yet?" I say, voicing my dislike as my grip on the steering wheel gets tighter.

"Isn't a very easy process, but it's definitely overdue." He says, his hand on my thigh as if to calm me down.

"Exactly.."

I reread my sleepily written e-mail to my lawyer for the hundredth time it feels like. Adding a comma here and there as I feel like my screen is fogging and blurring up. I had finally requested a restraining order against the man who broke into my home, the police finally starting to finalize the charges against him at my request.

He'd thankfully confessed about being ordered by Theo to break in. For now, I could only get a restraining order against the intruder, as getting one for Theo wasn't actually possible due to us living in different countries. I was satisfied as long as he could be charged in any way possible. Then I could finally be at peace.

I finally press the 'send' button, sighing as I lean my head back against the bus seat. Alerting Virgil of my annoyance. We'd been returning from the match against Burnley, the last before some time off until the new year.

He grabs my phone out of my hand, shaking his head at my protest. His hand coming to rest on my jaw, and I look at him, trying to make out his expression in the dim lights of the bus.

"Sleep, you've been up since six this morning. It's like nine thirty." He whispered, taking note of the fact that half of the players had already passed out. Journeys on the bus made everyone sleepy, whether it was being tired after an intense match, or the fact that the bus rocked just enough to make you fall asleep.

I feel him guide my head onto his shoulder, his arms wrapping around me as a content sigh leaves his lips. I don't protest, letting my body relax as my eyes grow heavy. Fatigue washing over me as I slip into a peaceful sleep. The last I remember being the feeling of soft kisses on the top of my head.

I’m nudged awake maybe an hour or two later, feeling confused and disoriented as I open my eyes. I'm not in the team bus anymore, but in Virgil's car. My eyes darting around to see that we were parked the driveway of his home.

"What? Where- how did I get here?" I ask, my eyes moving from Virgil's form to the windows. Rubbing my eyes tiredly, not even caring about smudging all my mascara anymore. Probably because it was already smudged.

"I carried you out of the bus into my car, your bag is in the backseat." He says nonchalantly, shrugging as he pulls the keys out of the ignition.

"Seriously? You couldn't wake me up? Instead, you put on a show?" I ask, closing my eyes as I cringe, imaging the situation.

"You sleep like the dead my love." He says, leaning forward to plant a kiss on my forehead before stepping out of the car. I sigh, unbuckling myself before I watch him open my door. Then he goes to collect our bags from the backseat.

"Come on, let's go inside." He ushers, making me step out of the car. I follow him, punching in his code before we both step into the home. I immediately make a beeline to the sofa, throwing myself onto it. A sigh leaving my mouth as I shift to get comfortable, grabbing the cushions to rest my head on them.

"Hey, get up if you sleep again you'll stay awake all night. Your sleep schedule is going get messed up." Virgil says, coming to shake me awake, making me groan in protest.

"I'm just resting my eyes.." I mumble, knowing damn well I'd already be fully asleep if he didn't shake me.

"That's what you say every time, then you fall asleep." He accuses, making me sit up straight.

"Did you pack your suitcase already?" He adds, sitting next to me.

"Of course- but say, do you have any space left in your suitcase?" I ask, my eyes snapping open.

"I do, why? Is yours full- did you exceed the weight limit? We have like 32 kilograms of allowance, are you serious?" He asks, looking at me shocked.

"You see, heels are pretty heavy and you definitely won't bring 32 kilograms right?" I begin, grinning sheepishly at him before he grabs me, shaking me playfully.

"Alright, you can give me some of your stuff."

"Is this good? You don't want it to be too tight on your head." Virgil asks, his hands adjusting the buckle of my pink helmet as I hold his gloves in my hand and support both of the snowboards with my arm.

I raise my hand, fidgeting with the buckle myself, before look at him with a smile.

"Feels alright, here." I say, handing him the gloves. Watching him put them on, my eyes flickering over the white piste. Since we'd wrapped up the last game of 2023, and finished top of the table. The both of us decided to go on a little ski resort trip in eastern France.

"Ready?" He asks, looking at me as he grabs his board.

I nod, starting to follow him.

"Will you help me get up when I fall?"

He looks at me, my reflection starting back at me through his goggles.

"I thought you were a pro?" He asks, showing me his heart-throbbing smile.

"I have experience but not a pro. Last time I skied or snowboarded- I was like twenty-two." I defended myself, jogging slightly to catch up with him.

He hums, starting to look ahead as we walk up to the ski lift.

"Hey, staying close to me will also minimize your change of getting injured." I add.

"Why? Are you the injury prevention whisperer?"

"No, but I can heal them.."

"I can still feel my legs burn. I forgot how much it hurts.." I complain, jumping into the hotel room bed after showering and pulling the blanket on my body. At least dinner was insanely delicious.

"I'm actually freezing." I say, the iron supplements I was prescribed didn't work at all. Definitely because, when I took them in the morning, I'd throw them up an hour later. I had to revisit the doctor for a lower dosage when we got back.

"Getting in bed already?" Virgil asks, turning on the heating before walking up to me.

I yawn as if on cue, lying on my stomach as I feel the bed dip, making me shift towards him. Bringing my hand up to the side of his face. I caress his cheekbone, my cheek squished against the fluffy pillow.

"You had fun right?" He asks, pulling me closer.

"I did, well after the third time I fell on my ass.." I joke, soft chuckle leaving my lips as I trace the top of his lips with my thumb.

"You'll like it more tomorrow, since you got used to the feeling again." He replies, the collar of shirt moving as he shifts, revealing his collarbone.

I don't respond, my thumb hovering over his lip as my eyes flicker to his, the silence of the night surrounding us.

My heart thumps in my chest, eyes roaming on his features as my palm rests on his jaw.

"You know babe-" he begins, making me return my attention back to eyes. Raising my eyebrows slightly as if to urge him to continue.

"-everything you said could be understood as an innuendo."

My face forms to that of disbelief, recalling my words before groaning in annoyance.

"Why- would you ruin the moment like this?" I exclaim, honestly trying hard to contain a laugh, starting to get up, trying to remove my hand off his jaw, but he grabs my wrist again.

He pulls me closer my chest hitting his, placing my hand back on his jaw, peppering soft kisses on my palm as he murmurs soft apologies.

"I had to say it." He chuckles, his hand still holding onto my wrist. His chest vibrating against mine.

A sudden blasting of my ringtone makes me jump slightly, a gasp leaving my lips as my eyes widen.

"Scared the crap out of me.."

I try to get up, remembering I left it on the sofa, but I'm pulled back again. My wrist still in his hold, though not being painful.

"Stay, get it later.." He whispers lowly, voice deeper as he stares it my eyes. I lower my hand, tracing his jawline, hearing him take in a rushed breath. I ghost my fingers on his skin, trailing my hand down to his collarbone before tracing it.

His grip suddenly returns to my wrist, guiding my hand onto his chest, right on top of his heart. The quick heartbeat thumping underneath my palm.

"You're making it hard to resist- you know that?"

"Open the link I sent you? Right now!" Jul shouts through my phone speaker, making me frown in curiosity as I click the link. It taking me to a news article.

"Dutch Billionaire family caught in fraud and embezzlement scheme."

"What the fuck!" I exclaim, my eyes roaming around the article to understand what had happened. Freezing as I see a picture of Theo handcuffed as multiple police officers escort him.

I feel a sudden rush of adrenaline flow through me. I sit up straight from the sofa, unfolding my legs. Blinking at the screen in front of me.

This is was all I needed.

"Would laughing at this be inappropriate?" I ask Jul, switching to FaceTime again as a laugh threatens to fall from my lip.

"Laugh all you want girl, this is the karma you wished for."

"If I was back home in The Netherlands I'd be lighting fireworks with the teenagers of my neighborhood." I laugh, taking a sip of my drink.

It was New Year's Eve, Virgil and me going out to celebrate with the other teammates. Monet and her boyfriend also flying over to celebrate with us. We weren't drinking at all. Or at least Virgil and the rest of the players. Me deciding to not drink for moral support. Drinking did not bring the fun, however company did and it was great. Besides, the ice-cold virgin mojito with Red Bull I was drinking was enough to keep me up all night.

I feel Virgil's hold on my waist tighten, his lips on my shoulder as we both sway to the music in the club.

"This is better though.."

I remove his hands from my waist, turning and facing him as I wrap my arms around his neck instead.

"You know, new years isn't usually a happy time for me. I used to get so sad when the clock ticked twelve, like it made me emotional. I regretted every single thing I did that year. But this time it feels different.." I confess, running my fingers up and down his nape as he kisses my cheek.

"In a good way?" He asks, his thumb holding up my chin.

"Yeah, I feel good. I think I'm finally feeling positive of the year I had. It was definitely rough at times, and you've been amazing support, but I think the changes I've made lead me to the best outcome of my life."

"That is?"

"Moving here, to Liverpool. Joining the club, meeting you.."

"Yeah, I'm a part of that 'best outcome'?"

"Of course you are. I've never said it directly, but you've been the best companion I've made this year. So really, thank you for everything..." I continue, the sweet words falling off my tongue in a delicate manner.

I watch a smug expression form on his face, but his brown eyes are sweet, like dark molasses.

"Could say the exact same thing about you my love. You've been the best doctor, lover and support. Everything I could have ever dreamed of. You're amazing in every single way, I can't even begin to count all the times you've motivated to keep me going." He tells me, his other hand on the small of my back as he leans in to kiss me.

"So sweet." I mumble in between kisses, pulling him closer by his collar. The sudden shout of everybody starting to count from ten making me pull away as I admire the lights flashing. I grab onto Virgil's bigger hand, squeezing it as we all start counting down.

"Five!"

"Four!"

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

I hold my breath for a moment, feeling Virgil's hand on my jaw as he pulls me in. Our lips crashing together, the cheering of "happy new year!" loud and clear as our eyes flutter shut. The taste addicting as I reach up to hold onto his bicep. We get lost in the moment, not even pulling away to breathe as we lose ourselves in the sensation.

"Happy New Year, my love."

No, this would be my fresh start.

[laforzadelvoila]

Farewell (Chrollo x Pakunoda)

Notes: This one-shot turned out longer than I previously planned, but since this world needs more Kuropaku stories, I suppose that's a good thing. This is another fanfic from a series I'm writing that is an AU where Chrollo and Paku were able to be together. I hope my writing did justice to the complexity of these characters I adore.

Other stories: | Reunion | Contact |

[AO3 | Masterlist]

Chrollo internally cursed himself in every language he knew. It was the first time in a long time that he felt more than just mild exasperation at his own mistakes; that time, he felt angry with himself.

He wasn’t particularly upset that the day hadn’t gone as planned. Overall, the last few days had certainly been an ordeal for Phantom Troupe: the Underground Auction heist had been successful, though not without some unforeseen events along the way, including the death of the Spider’s eleventh leg, Uvogin, at the hands of The Chain Bastard.

He had to admit that The Chain Bastard, whose real name was Kurapika Kurta, was certainly a commendable opponent — not only was the boy able to defeat someone as strong as Uvogin, but he had also devised a plan to kidnap the leader of the feared Phantom Troupe. However, as Chrollo had discovered, The Bastard had a weakness: he was willing to sacrifice his mission of revenge to protect his friends, who were being held hostage by the rest of The Troupe. Therefore, when he heard Kurapika demand that Pakunoda meet with them alone to negotiate terms to release Lucilfer, he expected her to respect the organization’s principles and prioritize The Spider’s integrity rather than trying to save an individual’s life. Kurta had stated that he would kill Chrollo if Paku came accompanied, but knowing his weakness, this was the perfect opportunity for the woman to bring the other members so they could finally kill The Chain Bastard.

But something had gone wrong, the dilemma of agreeing to the conditions of their leader’s captor led to a conflict between the Troupe. Chrollo, who was immobilized by Kurapika’s chains, had been taken inside an aircraft landed at the airport by Kurta and his ally, a short woman named Melody who had hearing keen enough to be able to read the heartbeats of other people. Some time later, Paku arrived at the agreed location, completely alone, and the vehicle took off. The thief wasn’t exactly surprised that Pakunoda chose to save his life over the Spider’s survival, and he blamed himself for it.

Over the past few weeks, Chrollo and Paku had surrendered to the love they had cultivated for each other for so many years, which until then had remained repressed, and it seemed that now they would pay the price for their emotional slide, for having succumbed to such vulnerability; and, as the head of The Troupe, he should have stopped their involvement before it reached the point that Pakunoda would so recklessly betray The Spider to save him. What Chrollo ignored was that, since when they were children, neither of them had been willing to abandon each other, simple as that.

In a place like Meteor City all its miserable inhabitants had to lean on was each other, the incomparable strength of their bonds was what kept them standing, everyone had to help each other to survive, because no one else in the world cared about them — so their message to the rest of the world was this: “We’ll accept anything you leave here, but don’t ever take anything away from us.” Perhaps this aspect of their upbringing played an important role in Paku’s decision, but the point is that she could never see him as just the head of Phantom Troupe, no matter how many years passed or how much they both had changed.

Chrollo even briefly wondered what he would do if their roles were reversed, if Paku was being held hostage by The Chain Bastard instead of him. Of course he would choose to save her, there was no doubt about that, although he tried to convince himself that it would be purely for the practical factor of her unique abilities and his duty as leader to preserve the strength of the group, but as much as he didn’t want to admit, when he saw Pakunoda approaching the three with the sole purpose of rescuing him, he knew he would never be able to abandon the woman he loved.

“Just to be sure: are you really Pakunoda?” was the first thing Kurapika wanted to find out when they met.

“Yes, I am,” the young woman calmly replied.

Kurta looked at Melody, who confirmed. She didn’t elaborate her thoughts out loud, but it seemed to her that Paku simply wanted her friend back, her heartbeat revealed no malice or hidden interests, but there was a tension that she could barely disguise.

“I will set two conditions for you two,” the blonde began. “I will release your leader if you adhere to them.”

Chrollo mentally begged Pakunoda to realize The Chain Bastard’s weakness before it was too late. He had no way to warn her, as his mouth had been tied by the chains.

“Let’s start with the restrictions for your leader. First, I forbid the use of Nen,” Kurapika continued, widening his scarlet-colored eyes and raising a chain with a blade at the end. “Second, I forbid contact with any other member of The Spider.”

The boy was sweating, trying to hide his nervousness and insecurity at all costs. The head of Phantom Troupe appeared to be too calm for his liking, and he imagined it was because of what he had said about how The Spider would continue even without its head. He had the man responsible for the death of his entire clan in his hands, but he couldn’t just kill him. Would he be making the right choice? Yes, he remembered Pairo, his childhood best friend. He couldn’t lose more people he loved.

“In order for him to follow these restrictions, I will stab his heart with my Judgment Chain,” he explained, aware that the best thing he could do at the moment would be to curse the man who had destroyed his life and the woman who knew too much about him. “Pakunoda, you will decide whether or not you agree to these conditions.”

All eyes turned to the woman, but she didn’t even blink: “I agree.”

At that moment, Chrollo had the terrifying certainty that Paku would die, but he didn’t even have time to react, instead letting out a strangled exclamation as he felt the Kurta survivor’s Judgment Chain coil around his heart, the blade pointing menacingly at his vital organ.

Melody sweatdropped as she witnessed the interaction between her friend and The Spiders. She could tell, listening to Kurapika’s irregular heartbeat, that he knew the truth, but refused to accept it: the fact that Pakunoda had come alone, wanting to save a person she cared about and therefore enabling that the hostage exchange was effective was proof that The Troupe was not entirely inhuman as he so firmly wanted to believe.

“You’re next, Pakunoda,” continued Kurapika, ignoring any doubts that afflicted his being. “First, before midnight, I want you to bring Gon and Killua back without tricks. I will explain the details of how the exchange will happen later. And secondly, you will not reveal anything about me to the other members.”

He raised the hand in which he held his chains towards Paku who, as Melody noticed, looked visibly nervous for the first time since entering that aircraft.

“If you accept these terms, then I will also use my Judgment Chain on you,” there was so little left for that nightmare to end, so that Gon and Killua could finally return safely from the danger that Kurapika knew he had inadvertently put them in.

Pakunoda closed her hands into fists against her abdomen, not wanting to show the despair she felt, but a careful observer would notice that she was shaking. Her hesitation surprised the other three; she avoided looking at Chrollo, as if she didn’t want to face his disappointment for her betraying The Spider, but he was much more worried about what would become of her, knowing that her loyalty could lead her to sacrifice herself for him and The Troupe without thinking twice — and, therefore, if Paku did not immediately agree to the conditions imposed by The Chain Bastard, she was not doing it for herself but for someone else.

“I can’t accept it,” Pakunoda’s voice was weak, and her words surprised both men, but Melody had a theory as to why the other’s apparent sudden change in behavior.

“Why not?” asked Kurapika, not knowing how to react. The Spider leader had already been cursed by his chain, which was probably the best he could get under the circumstances, but if Paku didn’t also receive the Judgment Chain, his safety and the safety of his friends would be threatened.

“Because I’m going to have a child,” she revealed. Apparently, the only thing that would make her fear for her life was another life inside her.

Chrollo’s eyes widened, his heartbeat accelerating with such intensity that he could almost feel the sting of the cursed blade against his heart, which was noticed by Melody, and it was the first time that night that he seemed to feel any kind of fear.

That certainly wasn’t the answer Kurapika was expecting, and he didn’t know what to say. He looked at Melody, who silently confirmed that Paku was telling the truth. The flutist had already realized the woman’s loyal nature towards those she loved, and imagined that the only thing that could fuel a dilemma in her heart about carrying out the conditions to save Chrollo would be if they risked the life of another person she loved.

“Is he the father of your child?” Kurapika didn’t hide his disdain when pointing at the leader of Phantom Troupe.

Pakunoda just nodded, trying to compose herself, her gaze briefly meeting Chrollo’s devastated gaze.

The situation had become complicated. Kurta didn’t want to allow himself to feel any empathy for the people responsible for the brutal massacre of his clan, but he felt his morals and everything he believed in colliding: he would never forgive them, and he had no intention of doing so; however, would he have the courage to harm an innocent life to harm those two? He was aware that their child would probably grow up to become a criminal like their parents, however, wouldn’t causing them harm when they weren’t even born make him as despicable as those who caused him so much suffering? Ever since he began his dark journey of revenge five years ago, he had accepted that he would destroy himself and his morale in the process, but he wasn’t sure how far he was willing to go.

“You had no mercy for the children of my clan, why would I have any mercy for your child?” the blonde asked, just reflecting, without receiving any answer in return.

Kurapika had promised on his life that he would only use his abilities against the members of The Troupe — that is, if this rule was violated, he would die. Such a radical limitation, proof of his determination, had been responsible for increasing his own strength, and perhaps could be applied in this case: if his chains eventually killed Pakunoda, the child she was carrying would also die, and this could be interpreted as an infraction of his own restrictions. So the dilemma could be resolved with relative simplicity — he wouldn’t curse Paku with the Judgment Chain —, avoiding delving into an ethical conflict that he didn’t really feel ready to face, but there was still the question of how to deal with the information that the woman had about him, because no matter how noble she might appear to be, he still didn’t trust her to not reveal anything about him to the other members.

“Answer me, and remember that I’ll know if you’re lying,” Kurapika pointed again in the direction of the member of Phantom Troupe. “Did you ever tell any other Spider about me?”

“Before we met with you or your friends, we met one of the Nostrade family bodyguards, Squala,” said Paku. At that point, with how delicate the situation was, the truth seemed like the safest path to take. “I passed on the information I extracted from him to two other members.”

Kurapika swallowed imperceptibly. It’s true that Squala didn’t know as much about him as Gon or Killua, but that was probably already enough and therefore it would be a waste of time to try and curse Pakunoda with his Judgment Chain if The Troupe already knew about him. At least, that was what he had convinced himself of.

Why was he looking for reasons and loopholes to help two of the people responsible for the massacre that killed countless innocent people? It was true that he had decided he wouldn’t harm their baby, so was he looking for reasons to not feel guilty? To not feel like he was betraying his clanmates?

As much as he hated to admit it, perhaps Kurapika was a little moved by the fact that Pakunoda, pregnant, had risked so much to save someone she loved and who apparently loved her in return — after all, he himself was making this negotiation for rescue his friends that he cherished so much. She didn’t want to save Chrollo just because he was her leader, but because she loved him. Everything would be much simpler if Chrollo, Pakunoda and the entire Phantom Troupe were heartless monsters, but seeing them in such a vulnerable state, showing such human insecurities, fears and emotions left the young blonde disconcerted: the realization that they were not “monsters” but humans, just like him, who were capable of loving and at the same time committing such monstrous acts, was infinitely more terrifying.

“And what happened to Squala?” he realized, not very optimistic about the other’s fate.

Her silence was more telling than any resounding confirmation. A good reminder that they, despite being human, were still the same ruthless killers he had learned to hate.

“Now you must return to the Spiders’ hideout and explain about the hostage exchange to the others,” Kurapika did not elaborate on his strange mercy out loud, which sounded more like pure cowardice, preferring to just continue with the rest of the negotiation. “Afterwards, you will return to the airport before midnight, with Gon and Killua. You must return alone, without telling the others where you are going. Understood?”

“Yes, we have an agreement. Take me back to the airport,” Pakunoda said impassively.

As the aircraft returned to the runway, a tense silence settled inside the small plane, with only Melody being able to discern the heartbeats of those present. Pakunoda was still worried, but like Kurapika, she also looked relieved that the first part of the negotiation had been completed. However, it was Chrollo’s heart that caught her attention the most: until then, he had remained cold, slightly bored, and even a little amused, but after Paku’s revelation, the Phantom Troupe leader’s stoic facade seemed to have crumbled.

It was curious how neither of them gave much importance to their own lives, seeing themselves as disposable, prioritizing each other and the Spider’s integrity in general. That night, they were confronted by the painful reality of their selfish self-denial: The Troupe going into conflict to save Chrollo when he didn’t even consider himself a valuable hostage, while Pakunoda, had she received the Judgment Chain into her heart, would certainly have sacrificed herself one way or another to inform The Troupe about Kurapika and prevent their disintegration. They had spent so much time acting as actors, believing that the survival of the collective was worth more than their own, but the events of that September 4th proved that, despite all the years of desensitization, they were still human enough to love and care about each other, and the idea of ​​losing a single loved one was as unbearable and despairing as the fall of them all. The fact that The Spider was not as unshakable as he wanted displeased Chrollo, but it made him rethink the importance of his person, as an individual and not just as a leader, to the group.

But, mainly, both Chrollo and Pakunoda questioned themselves about their importance as human beings as a result of the news that they would both be parents, because until then they destroyed themselves inconsequentially, with the sole objective of the Spider’s supremacy; now, the two would need to face a completely new responsibility.

“I wonder what your child will think when they find out what kind of people their parents are,” Kurapika broke the silence with a poisonous bitterness in his voice, without receiving any response from the two criminals and future parents.

The leader of Phantom Troupe was deep in thought. He, like the vast majority of the other children in Meteor City, did not get to know his biological father nor did he have a father figure present — the closest being the priests at the church he attended —, so the idea of ​​him being a father himself of a small human being was very strange and frightening. Paku also didn’t know how to be a good mother, her only reference was the decrepit and overworked old nannies who raised the orphans there.

Neither of them intended for this pregnancy to threaten The Spider in any way — in fact, it only reinforced the importance of their mission, to protect the children of Meteor City — but Chrollo and Paku were beginning to realize that they would have to make changes in the way they operated, they could no longer act as disposable devices, because The Troupe would live beyond them, but being orphans left at the mercy of the world, they knew that they also could not irresponsibly leave a child alone and abandoned.

They couldn’t stop being villains, at that point, it was too late for them to take on new roles, and even if they could, they wouldn’t, because it was thanks to their malevolent efforts that Meteor City was safe from the rest of the world, that the others countries knew that they could no longer treat the inhabitants there as meat dolls for perverse games. However, Phantom Troupe would certainly have to rethink its future plans and next steps.

After disembarking the aircraft and leaving Pakunoda, who continued without wasting time on the way to the Troupe’s hideout, Kurapika, Melody and Chrollo were alone at the airport waiting for the woman’s return along with Gon and Killua. Melody knew Killua’s heartbeat pattern, which would be enough to verify if the two somehow ended up being manipulated by the criminals.

“Did you know she was pregnant?” Kurapika collected the chains that were gagging the hostage.

“No,” Chrollo replied simply, his gaze distant and his voice no longer containing that same relaxed arrogance as before.

It was risky to let that woman return to the group without the Judgment Chain, but Kurapika had already understood that he could trust her, and only because there was a good reason for her to honor the agreement between them.

Back at the hideout, Pakunoda found the rest of the Troupe (with the exception of Nobunaga, who was still lying unconscious on the ground) divided between letting her carry out the hostage exchange as agreed or killing the two boys, who were tied up in a corner, to go after The Chain Bastard, risking Chrollo’s life in the process.

“If you don’t tell us where that son of a bitch is, don’t think we’re going to let you go freely,” Phinks threatened angrily.

“I’m not saying where I’m going, and I’m taking the children with me,” Paku stated calmly, without letting herself be intimidated. “And I’m going alone, so don’t get in my way.”

“Get in your way?!” shouted the man, in disbelief. “Whose side are you on?!”

“Go ahead, Paku,” Machi interrupted, she and Kortopi taking a step forward, placing themselves between Phinks and the woman. “We’ll take care of them.”

“Are you kidding?” said Feitan, the Troupe’s torturer.

The five’s powerful and frightening Nen auras manifested, the obvious threat making the air heavy around them.

“What the fuck happened to you?! Did you go crazy?!” Phinks was fed up with this clowning, unable to understand why Pakunoda and the others were lowering themselves to follow the enemy’s orders.

“They’re probably being manipulated by The Chain Bastard,” Feitan’s cold voice echoed through the room. “This is a waste of time, if she’s not going to talk, then I’ll find a way to force her.”

“You really don’t understand?!” Gon shouted, irritated. Until then, he and Killua had remained silent, away from their captors, but the boy found it unbelievable how oblivious those men were to the simple truth. “Why do you think Pakunoda doesn’t want to talk about where she’s going? Why do you think Machi is trying to stop you? They want to save your leader! They want their friend back, why can’t you understand?”

“Don’t meddle, brat!” barked Phinks. “You and your friend are just in a hurry to be freed!”

“I never said that!” at that moment, Gon and Killua easily freed themselves from the ties that held them; the Freecss boy was indignant. “Take back what you said now!”

“Of course, if you have something to say, go ahead,” with a sadistic smile on his lips and a popped vein on his forehead, Phinks’ Nen flow intensified menacingly. “Take one more step so I can break your neck.”

“Obviously I’m not going to do that, I’m not stupid!” Gon stuck out his tongue like a little child, leaving the adult shocked. “Kurapika isn’t like you, he doesn’t do stupid things when he’s angry, if he made a promise, then I know he’ll keep it! Pakunoda met him and understood, if his leader follows the restrictions he was given, then he will be freed!”

“I've had enough of you!” before Phinks could have a violent reaction that would make the situation even worse, an exasperated voice suddenly interrupted him.

“Stop it!” Paku felt every precious second wasted like a hammer in her heart. She wasn’t used to showing anything other than calm indifference, but the last few hours had been a real fireproof. “The boy is right, I’m not being manipulated.”

“So you intend to betray The Spider of your own free will?” Feitan glared at her. “I never expected this from you, Pakunoda, of all people.”

“With all due respect, but I don’t care for what you think,” she realized that, if she didn’t tell the truth, The Troupe would fall apart amid mistrust, and everything they fought for in life would be in vain; she needed to make them understand her, even though it meant exposing her heart and soul to all of them, and the regret she felt was evident in her voice. “You can do what you want, of course, but I can’t let the father of my child die.”

The Spiders and the two children remained silent, needing a few seconds to assimilate what they had just heard and understand the extent of her revelation, with the exception of Illumi, who was away in a corner disguised as Hisoka.

“Paku, are you…” Machi looked sadly at her friend, and the other members, even Phinks and Feitan, also seemed shaken. Ultimately, they cared about each other, and although the true depth of Pakunoda and Chrollo’s relationship had surprised them, now the woman’s apparent recklessness and betrayal made more sense.

“Let her go,” said Franklin, who had not spoken up until then, preferring to take the initiative and try to be reasonable.

“Yes, you’re right…” Phinks agreed, stunned. It’s not like he really wanted to stop her now, anyway.

Gon and Killua looked at each other, unable to help but be surprised by the strange solidarity that such brutal killers could have for each other, but they didn’t have time to think much more about it, as Paku promptly led them out of the hideout on their way for the airport. None of the other members followed them — except Hisoka who, unbeknownst to them, had been following them at a distance, eager to meet up with Chrollo and finally have the chance to fight him without the Troupe’s interference.

“Why don’t you take the opportunity to escape, since I’m injured?” at one point, with a torrential rain falling on them, Pakunoda asked the boys out of pure curiosity, intrigued. “If you run away, nothing will stop your friend from killing our leader.”

“Precisely because we are his friends we don’t want him to be a murderer!” Gon explained with his usual simplicity. “And participating in the hostage exchange is the best we can do for him at this moment.”

Paku stopped walking, in shock. She watched the two continue to walk, thinking about what she had heard. She wasn’t sure how naïve those kids were, but they reminded her of when she and her friends were younger, before they damned their souls. She wouldn’t say that she regretted the path she and her friends had taken, they had already accepted a long time ago that, no matter how cruel it was, it was the best they could do to survive. However, she couldn’t help but imagine what it would have been like if they had someone to protect them, offering them a life where they wouldn’t have to make such radical choices.

“Hey! Won’t you come?” Gon enthusiastically pulled her out of her thoughts, catching her attention and bringing her back to reality.

“Of course, I’m going,” the woman resumed her journey, following them.

“I just realized that I kicked a pregnant woman!” Gon suddenly realized, horrified at himself, remembering the small clash he and Killua had against some of The Spiders at the Beitacle Hotel.

“Don’t worry, everyone has kicked a pregnant woman in their life… when we’re in our mother’s womb,” Killua argued, wanting to reassure his friend.

Pakunoda laughed loudly in disbelief. She really wished, more than anything, that those children would never be forced to follow the same path as her and her friends.

“I’m fine,” she assured with a gentle smile, feeling part of the tension that strangled her chest dissipate.

When they arrived at the airport, the three were informed that they should board the landed aircraft, which would be taken to the meeting point, while Kurapika, Leorio, Melody and Chrollo were inside another jet in mid-flight, where Kurta’s cellphone suddenly beeped, at the same time they saw a fourth person approaching.

“Hello! ♥” Hisoka greeted happily, one hand holding his cellphone and the other resting on his waist.

“Hisoka?!” shouted Paku, seeing the magician coming out of the shadows. She began to sweat uncontrollably, desperate by the possibility that The Chain Bastard might think she had brought him and kill Chrollo.

“A plane? Great idea, going to a desert island or a mountain top will make being tracked more difficult ♣” Hisoka commented jovially.

“What do you want?” asked Kurapika, worried about the unpredictability of his unreliable informant.

“Take me with you, and if you don’t agree, I’ll kill Gon and Killua ♥” he wasn’t serious about the threat, the two boys were future opponents with a lot of potential, but at the moment the man was focused on facing the leader of the Spiders. “Like I said, all I want is to fight Chrollo, so just take me wherever you leave him ♠”

In the end, to the displeasure of everyone else involved, Hisoka ended up getting on the same aircraft as Pakunoda and the children, heading to the place where the hostage exchange would happen.

Eventually, the two ships landed simultaneously on opposite sides of a high hill near the limits of Yorknew. The passengers left, and after Kurapika called Killua so that Melody could check the boy’s heartbeat, he authorized the hostage exchange.

Gon and Killua walked towards their friends, sighing in relief when they were out of danger. Leorio welcomed the boys with joy, but Kurapika looked at Chrollo and Pakunoda from afar: the man and woman did not exchange words or looks, certainly fearing that this could activate the Judgment Chain that could kill him. The leader of Phantom Troupe would understand the pain of being deprived of the people he loved, the survivor of the Kurtas concluded that this was a suitable revenge.

“I’ve waited so long for this moment, Chrollo… ♥” Hisoka opened a satisfied smile “Let’s fight! ♦”

Chrollo didn’t say anything, he just narrowed his eyes, confused and serious, to look at the magician, who for no apparent reason ripped his own shirt, showing the Spider tattoo on his back.

“I pretended to join The Troupe just so I could fight you one day ♥” revealed Hisoka, removing the synthetic skin with the fake tattoo from his back. “Now that I’m no longer a member of The Spider, you can fight me without holding back, since this wouldn’t be an internal conflict, right? ♣”

Lucilfer was incredulous, but the absurdity of the situation simply made him laugh. He always had some confidence that no one in Phantom Troupe would betray them, because none of them had any real interest in the kind of rewards that this action would bring, such as money, fame or power. But Hisoka had proven to be a dangerously unpredictable and reckless type, betraying them only to satisfy his own pleasure.

“Well, you’re not a member of The Spider, so I can talk to you,” Chrollo was still smiling, amused by the irony of all those events. “I can’t fight you. Or rather: it’s not worth fighting me, because he stabbed me with his Judgment Chain, so I can’t use Nen anymore.”

Hisoka looked like he was going to kill himself right there; so much work for nothing and things hadn’t gone as planned, and seeing Chrollo turn his back on him, laughing, he could perfectly imagine Kurapika mocking the traitor magician as he left on the airship with his friends.

“I see that you no longer have any interest in fighting me,” the leader of The Troupe looked at Hisoka with false innocence. “Tell Paku that you two can leave now.”

While the fake Spider retreated, defeated, Chrollo continued towards the edge of the hill, thoughtful. The important thing is that the Troupe would continue to live, and Pakunoda could have their baby safely. He would search for a Nen exorcist to remove the Judgment Chain from his heart, although he knew they were rare to find, but sooner or later he would be able to reunite with his friends and the woman he loved and meet his future child — and, despite his nervousness, he was happy because he was going to be a father. He remembered the prediction he had received from Neon Nostrade; Chrollo would head east.

Inside the first aircraft that left, Kurapika’s eyes returned to normal, and he smiled weakly when he saw Gon and Killua safe and sound, happily talking to Leorio.

“How are you?” Melody asked gently, approaching him.

“Fine, just a little tired,” Kurapika wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Despite everything, I’m happy that my friends are okay…”

“Why are you so sad, then?” of course she immediately noticed his melancholy. “You managed to stab their leader with the Judgment Chain and save your friends, why are you like this?”

“It’s just…” Kurta swallowed. “How can people capable of love also be capable of doing such horrible things?”

“Sometimes, it’s precisely because of love that people do horrible things,” Melody sighed, understanding her friend’s anguish.

However, at that moment, Kurapika collapsed to the ground, fainting from exhaustion from the excessive use of his Scarlet Eyes, and the others ran to help him.

[robinico]

The Lost Hero, Tristan and Piper McLean, and Native Americans and Palestinians.

TL;DR: An essay/vent about Rick Riordan writing offensive stereotypes about Native Americans and Arabs while including a positive throw-away line about Israel and the connotations of this in young adult fiction. And insight into the relationship between Native Americans and Palestinians.

So, I'm rereading The Lost Hero as Rick Riordan's several mythological series are comfort books for me that I reread every so often. Some quick background that I'm sure is a common sentiment among readers: when I was younger and first read The Heroes of Olympus books as they were published, I never really questioned the writing or characterizations. I was too young and too caught up in eagerly eating up more of the Percy Jackson world that I loved. As I got older, learned more about the real world, reread and actually analyzed the books, I found a lot of flaws that has made the quality of The HoO series incredibly incomparable to the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. Every time I've reread the PJO series, I've gained further appreciation for the writing (which has its own flaws, of course), whereas my frustration has grown with The HoO series, lol. Again, I know this is not an unpopular opinion.

This includes Piper McLean's characterization and the representation of her Cherokee ethnicity. I've read some insightful posts in the past explaining how Rick Riordan really messed up with Piper and while he's gained brownie points for diversity and trying, it does not absolve him of the specific choices he made with representing her Cherokee culture and how his writing is insulting to the broader Native American identity.

Throughout Piper's chapters, readers learn several things. Piper is Cherokee through her father, Tristan McLean. They are from Oklahoma and her grandfather Grandpa Tom had a home that Tristan still owns despite being a famous actor because it is the physical link to his ancestry. Grandpa Tom and Tristan taught Piper a lot about her Cherokee heritage including their beliefs and folk tales which Tristan has denied believing in them the way his father did. He still obviously feels strongly about his identity and the pain of historical discrimination and oppression against his people and this trauma passes onto Piper. It is the reason why he never plays any Native American role.

Specifically, I want to highlight this excerpt from Chapter XXI, in which Piper recalls a conversation with her father about the movie roles he's accepted.

"He'd played all kinds of roles— a Latino teacher in a tough L.A. school, a dashing Israeli spy in an action-adventure blockbuster, even a Syrian terrorist in a James Bond movie."

She then follows by asking her father why he never accepts Native American roles.

"'Doesn't that get old? Aren't you ever tempted, like, if you found the perfect part that could change people's opinions?'

'If there's a part like that, Pipes," he said sadly, "I haven't found it.'"

When I first read this, I remember being deeply uncomfortable with the Syrian terrorist example. Yeah, as a Muslim, I'm very familiar with the stereotypical Middle Eastern terrorists in media. I know the reason it exists and why it will continue to exist. Riordan could've and should've chosen any other example of a different character role.

However, rereading this today has made me so upset on another level because I did not remember the prior example and Riordan's connotations until now.

"A dashing Israeli spy." I cannot describe the disgust I felt reading this. No, my disgust is not because it's a "trendy" opinion to hate anything Israeli. I am disgusted because in the three examples Riordan gives, only one has a positive adjective (dashing) attached to the stated role (Israeli spy). The other two roles are minority identities (Latino, Syrian) that have no positive connotation attached. In fact, the latter has a negative attachment (terrorist). It's almost laughable how Riordan decided to write "dashing Israeli spy" and "a Syrian terrorist" in the same sentence and thought that was okay. This is what Americans are led to believe. The narrative that "Israel is good and the Middle East is bad" is so ingrained in American culture, that it is so casually placed in young adult fiction.

And even more disrespectfully, this is about a Cherokee man. A man whose ancestry is tainted by several lifetimes worth of oppression, genocide, ethnic cleansing, and censorship. It should be common information now that the injustice and horrors Indigenous Americans faced (and are still experiencing less publicly and obviously) is aligned with the very same injustice and horrors the Palestinian people have been experiencing for 75 years. The relationship several Native American tribes and Palestine is strong. There is a shared history and solidarity between these oppressed groups. I strongly recommend learning more about their relationship if you haven't already. The Palestine Pod, a podcast that aims to educate the public about Palestinian history, culture and resistance, did an episode with Dr. Steve Salaita, author of Inter/Nationalism: Decolonizing Native America and Palestine (p. 2016) in May 2021. Several reviews have described the writing in the book as heavy on academic language so I believe the podcast will be more digestible.

There is absolutely no way a character like Tristan McLean would ever accept an Israeli role. The man who rejects any Native role because there is no perfect part that is written well and respectful enough for his standard would play the role of an oppressor? What the fuck Rick Riordan? And let's not forget that he is a brown man. He is not white-passing, which is why he can fit different minority identities and the Spartan king role. So of course, Israeli spy is just perfect isn't it? Even if someone wanted to argue that Israel's actions as a colonizing state were not as well-known in 2010 and Riordan's writing is unfortunate ignorance, that argument does not hold up when you remember that he clearly compliments the Israeli role (dashing) which highlights his personal bias. Oh, but maybe he's grown and learned more in the past 13 years and has changed his opinion? Except, remember when he released a really detailed neutral statement on the "conflict"? I will acknowledge that he said, "genocidal proportions" regarding the attacks in Gaza, but he also calls for support and security for Israeli. Whatever, I don't care for dissecting neutrality. I'm not exactly shocked by Riordan's position.

Maybe most young readers would pass over the excerpt as a whole like I first did. But for others, it lingers. The connotations are clear and pervasive despite being a small insight into a tertiary character in the grand scheme of such a large series. Riordan's attempts at representation mean nothing when his writing is flawed, contradictory, and insulting regarding his characters of color.

I am glad that I am rereading TLH. It's reminded me the importance of reading old and new material. I channeled the anger I felt reading this excerpt into writing this post and finding a new informative source on Palestinian and Native American oppression. It is important that we continue to challenge ourselves, our nostalgia, our biases, our understanding of the world. It is important to grow from there and continue learning. Especially for Americans and Canadians, we must understand the systemic censorship against Native Americans in order to unravel the problems caused by these very systems.

Continue fighting. Fight for the oppressed. Fight for Palestine.

And do your daily click!

[kiristephens]

⚡️is she worth it?

"Of course she is. Do you think I would care this much if she wasn't worth it?" Kiri brushes off the notion like it's ridiculous. It's another reminder that people rarely understand the depth of her bond with Laure. There is jealousy and rage and anguish, every emotion under the sun when she thinks about her wife, but she is the reason Kiri truly understands the beauty of life. Before, she had been sleepwalking, focused on a singular ambition, but Laure taught her how to live in the moment, so she could actually feel each one. It's incomparable what her life is without her. "We are immortal. if she wants to have a human plaything for a few years, well, it's no different than letting her adopt from the shelter, is it not? Eventually she'll die, and Laure may find another, but I will remain the constant."

[gracefullou]

i used to be a hardcore hrry fan, but overtime i just felt so disconnected from him because he doesn’t show his human, real side and instead it’s basically a brand. i won’t lie, i can’t hate him or dislike him, i was too attached and that’s hard to let go, but i stopped following him and listening to his music. louis has always been my favorite though. i love that he’s as authentic as he can be in the industry and shares this special bond with fans. that’s something hrry can’t have and it’s truly sad. he got plenty of success, but in return he became a product to sell to audiences, with “fans” who don’t truly care about him and many just wanting the clout of being at a hrry stles™ show, meanwhile louis has fans who care about him and his music. who feel that connection. who make fan projects for him and other fans, and in return he shows his appreciation for us and includes us in his success. personally, i wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world. hrry’s fanbase is not long lasting, louis’ is, so, who really won at the end?

It depends on what you see as winning and therefore who you ask. Louis will never be as commercially successfull as Hrry, he will never have those streaming numbers, he will never have lead roles served to him on a silver plate even when he has zero acting talent. So if that was the prize, he lost. But I don't think that's what Louis thinks. I don't think that's what any rational person thinks. Fans tend to draw comparisons between the two but it's not fair, or even rational. You can't compare an indie movie with a Marvel one, simply bc the investment was not the same, the amount of money and power put into the two projects is incomparable and therefore the projects themselves are. It's the same here. I don't follow Hrry and idk what's happening with him/ his career unless i see a post in my tl and even if i did, i can't claim if he's happy or not, dead inside (like he looks) or not but it is clear atp that everything publicly available about him is a calculated move. I don't care about him, i never did so i can't relate to you anon. Ofc, the moment i became a Louis fan i was bombarded with 1D and Hrry content but i never cared about him. I heard his first album once and never again (same with his second one). I remmember not liking his music, it's very repetitive, not really catchy and he writes very amateur and generic lyrics. I didn't like him as well, i think a lot of what his fans "see" in him is an illusion, a false perception. They think he's interesting and deep so they find his slow speech and goofiness charming but the moment he opens his mouth when asked a question that he didn't prepare for, you see that there's nothing really there. Anyway, enough about him. What I care about is Louis. He looks so good, i don't think i've ever seen him happier than this last year. He's making the music he wants and doesn't have to answer to any external pressure anymore. And what magical songs he's making 🥹❤️‍🩹. Faith in the future is a perfect perfect album and is a far cry from anything he wrote with one direction no offence. He had an arena tour and played to thousands of fans night after night, even did a few stadium shows in Latam and had a live stream from one of the shows. He released AOTV as well. I agree that his music is so good, so well written it inspires the listener. Of course i wish he had a better team to prompte him and his music but there is something beautiful about how no matter how many streams a song of his get, you know it's organic. You know it's bc all the people (or at the very least most of them) who listened to this song loved it. Might be silly but i get emotional when i listen to always you, a non single from walls has 22M views on YouTube with zero promo, all from people who loved the song bc it's pop perfection duh. Fingers crossed for LT3, I know it will be another perfect album from Louis and i can't wait to hear it