#and the show also comments on how the abused can also become the abuser

[pombeom]

camming collaboration pt.1 | taesan fic (nsfw)

pairings: camboy/camgirl au, camgirl!reader x camboy!taesan, rivals to ??, dom!taesan x sub!reader

warnings: a lot of porn with a lot of plot, solo female masturbation, starts with just reader x viewers plot, indented text is the viewers’ comments, use of toys, mutual masturbation, squirting, cumming on reader, taesan is described as nonchalant until he isn’t?, kinda messy, no actual intercourse happens in this part but will do in part 2 :/ (also not proofread)

a/n: this was honestly just a random idea that popped into my head and turned out to be longer than expected so it will be spilt into multiple parts! keep an eye out for part 2!

The bed was all set up, sheets all clean and every cushion in its place. Changing the lights from white to a midnight blue, you log into your account and set up the stream. You were known for your darker setting compared to that of other streamers on the site who mostly opted for the fluffy pink, lovey dovey aesthetic or the cliche red lighting, which was easy to create. 

Ensuring that everything was in place once again, you put on your black face mask and begin the live stream. Not a minute goes by and the comments are already flooding in. 

looking hot today, as usual 

“Thank you lux_mirror64.” 

hope you stay for longer this time. i’ve had a rough day.

“Is that so? I guess I could stay a little bit longer for you minminx,” you whisper seductively. 

You continue to respond to comments as your hand slowly makes its way under your black T-shirt, fondling your boobs, without completely exposing yourself but your perked up nipples still poked through the thin fabric. The corner of your mouth lifts under your mask at the thought of teasing your viewers like this. And just as you thought, the comments begin exploding. 

don’t be a slut blueberry and just strip 

darling, take that too off now

“I didn’t realise you guys were this desperate to see my tits. Is this not enough for you?” You tease, mocking your viewers neediness, “It is getting a little hot in here though.” 

With that, you strip yourself of your T-shirt, revealing your naked assets and squeezing the muscle harder. You push your boobs up and down, watching as the gifts and cash flowed in from your viewers. As you thanked each and every gifter, you pull out your clear dildo from the side of your bed, showing it off to the camera. 

“I’m going to be using something simple today. But just because it’s simple doesn’t mean it won’t be good. LoveBae sent me this as a gift and so I wanted to show you guys how I use it to get off.” 

You pull off your black lace thong and wave it in front of the camera, showing off your wet arousal that you left behind on your underwear. 

blueberry is so wet for us already? I bet she’s imagining taking our cock instead of that dildo

someday, I’m gonna steal her panties and shoot my load all over them

are you sure you can take all 8 inches of that dildo blueberry? 

Reading through the comments just turned you on further, your arousal now leaking down your thigh. You didn’t hesitate as you pushed the dildo in, taking in each and every inch as it stretched out your gummy walls. 

You begin slow, pumping it in and out at a steady pace, building up the tempo. There wasn’t even room to think as soon you ram the dildo into your pussy as fast as you could. Your moans are muffled by the mask but your viewers could still hear every crude sound you were making. 

Fuck blueberry you’re gonna make me cum already

“Just thinking about your cum, is making me dizzy Lord_Harlow.” 

As the dildo abuses your core, your fingers start playing with your clit, sending shock waves up your body. You vision becomes blurry with the build up of tears in your eyes, the comments now being the least of your concern. 

“Fuck! I want you guys to all cum with me. On the count of 3. 3, 2, 1-“ 

Your core erupts as your body begins shaking violently, white cum oozing out your pretty pink hole onto the grey sheets. 

Taking a moment to calm down from your orgasm as your body eventually holds still. 

You check the stats on your live, feeling quite accomplished at the 45k viewers. 

“Thank you guys for tuning in. Have a great week. There are some big things coming soon so look forward to that. Good night guys.” 

You turn off the stream, and slump back into the bed, ripping the mask off your face. 

You think back to the time when you first started this as a way to earn passive income when you were still in your minimum wage graduate job. To think that you’re now one of the, if not, most popular cam girls on the website. Of course you still had to consider ‘Mountain San’, who despite being a male, had wracked up a similar amount of views to you in the past year. His rise to the top was no joke and definitely talked about most on this community.

Whether you’d realised it or not, you had built up some sort of unspoken rivalry in recent months. You were both receiving the same sponsorships from companies and your view count was so similar that the top 2 ranking on the website fluctuated almost on a daily basis. One day you’d be on top and the next him. This naturally lead to conflict between your fans as well. Whilst his were predominantly female and your male, you witnessed the arguments of who was better on the forums. It was almost tragic to see the both of you being put down the other’s viewers yet at the same time, a sense of pride swelled in your chest whenever someone was to take your side.

Looking up at the time, you noticed you only had an hour till you were supposed to sleep. You had a meeting with the website’s team tomorrow, discussing some future stream plans in light of the website’s 10 year anniversary. 

After changing the sheets and throwing the old ones into the washing machine, you take a quick shower before throwing on a baggy T-shirt over your underwear and hopping into bed. You were filled with a slight excitement for tomorrow as you had been told very little about the plans so you slept awaiting the anticipation of the big reveal in the meeting. 

Dressed in your baggy jeans and black long sleeve top, you were feeling ready for the meeting today. It had been a while since the team had last called you in, considering you managed most of your streaming by yourself, but you did welcome the thought of having other people in charge for once.  

You enter the small office building and make your way upto the first floor meeting room. Having been here a few times before, you were familiar with the environment. 

The meeting table was round and a group of people were already gathered around it. You noticed someone new amongst the team, his demeanour and attitude being completely different to that of the rest of them. As you enter, you quickly greet everyone before taking the last empty seat besides the new guy. 

“Hi, I’m Y/n,” trying to be polite and introducing yourself. 

“Hi. I’m Taesan.” His voice lacked the warmth that was present in yours, simply replying to you for the sake of it. 

“Can I get everyone’s attention. I’m starting the meeting now.” 

The chatter in the room went silent as everyone’s heads turned towards the manager. 

“As I’m sure everyone is aware, we have Y/n and Taesan who are here with us today.” 

A sudden confusion arose. You thought the new guy was simply another staff member on the team. But if he deserved an introduction alongside yours he clearly must be someone more important. You take another glance at him from the side of your eyes, and then it started to make sense. His loosely styled black hair should have been a dead giveaway from the start but you only noticed who he was upon seeing the infamous silver chains that hang from his neck. Taesan was Mountain San. For fucks sake what was he doing here. You cursed in your head quite annoyed that you were sat next to your unannounced rival. But you were forced to push that to the back of your mind as the meeting continued. 

“With the upcoming anniversary of our website, the team thought a collaboration between Blueberry Moon and Mountain San would be the perfect way to commemorate the occasion. As the top 2 streamers, we hope you cooperate with us to make this project come to life. What do you guys think?” 

You were completely thrown off the proposition, lacking the words to even reply to his question. 

“I’m ok with it if Y/n is,” Taesan’s short  answer was straight to the point and further shifted the pressure of decision-making onto you. He was your biggest rival on the website, yet you didn’t want to disappoint the team especially on such a big occasion. It could be an opportunity to fizzle out any tension between your fandoms in a way. But were you willing to give into it? 

“I guess I’m ok with it too then.” 

“That’s great! We’ll set up a schedule but first can we have a chemistry screening to see how the both of you come off, on camera. Does Friday sound good?” 

“Yeah thats fine,” you reply on behalf of the both of you.

“Before then, can we just ask you to spend a bit of time together. I think it’d be better if your relationship is built up more organically off screen.” 

You knew that the manager was hinting at your rivalry. Even if no one every mentioned it, it wad obvious that it could be an issue. 

After the meeting ended, you managed to catch up to Taesan who seemed very eager to leave. 

“Hey. You heard what the manger said right? Here’s my number and I think you should come over tomorrow. We can spend a bit of time getting to know each other.” 

“Getting to know each other in what ways?” His question may have been innocent but his smirk and the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.  

“Ugh. You know what I mean. Anyway give me your number too so I can send you my address.” 

Grabbing your phone, he inputs his contact information, adding your number onto his phone at the same time. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He gives you a two finger salute before turning his back and speeds off. His arrogance and cockiness was getting to you.

It was exactly 6pm when you heard the doorbell ring in your apartment. You didn’t even have to check as you knew that Taesan would be coming over as you had organised over a short chain of texts. He wasn’t much of a talker in person nor over text. Communicating with him made you want to rip his hair out in hopes for some sort of reaction. What did his fans see in him? 

“Come on in. You can sit here. Is there anything you want to eat or drink? We can order dinner if you haven’t eaten yet?” 

“I haven’t actually. Have you?”

“No I haven’t either.” 

The conversation was almost awkward as the two of you sat in the lingering conflict of your online presences. 

“I’ll order food in that case,” he uttered. 

“No it’s ok. I’ve got this. You are my guest after all,” you interject, pulling out your phone from your pocket.

“Well too bad, already ordered. Hope you’re hungry for some pizza,” Taesan says whilst showing off his phone screen, flashing a subtle mischievous grin. 

Slightly thrown off by the speed at which he ordered, you proceeded to ask him questions about his life and the reason why he started pursuing this career as a camboy. This was your attempt at breaking the ice, yet it felt as though the ice was far from being broken. 

“Can I get a tour of your apartment?” His question sprung up on you so suddenly but you were glad that he was taking some sort of initiative. 

“Of course. Follow me.” 

You take him around each room, showing him the kitchen, the main bedroom, and bathroom. You then reach the door furthest away. You hesitated a bit, wondering if it was acceptable to show him your streaming room. From what you remembered it was neat and clean but it felt almost too intimate to be sharing on the first meeting. But in the name of ice breaking, you opened the door letting him in so he could take a look. 

“This is the room I use to stream. That’s my filming setup and that’s the bed obviously. Oh and the lights change colours too.”

You begin fiddling around with remote control switching between the different colours as a way of showing him the different options. 

“What’s in there?” He asks, clearly pointing at the set of drawers beside the bed. 

“Oh umm…that’s just my toys and stuff. I get a lot of PR so I ended up getting a drawer to organise it.” Your cheeks flushed a shade of pink, embarrassed to suddenly be revealing the intimate parts of your home and of yourself.

“I see. Have you used them all then? On your streams?” 

“Mhmm. Mostly yeah. I test them out before the stream and if all is good then yeah I use them.” You feign your confidence trying to answer his questions of sudden curiosity. You didn’t want to make things any more awkward than they already were.  

“Can you show me how you use them?” His tone was sly and almost teasing as he eyes you up and down, the grin on his face growing wider by the second. 

The thumping in your chest grows louder, as your mind goes blank. You were baffled and confused. How were you supposed to respond to that? 

“I mean we’re going to be fucking each other on a stream anyway so might as well get a head start now.” 

Where did all this come from? His nonchalance vanished into thin air as he presented a new version of himself to you: curious, teasing and eager. 

“Umm… yeah you’re right. I guess it’s fine then. This is just a headstart.” 

When you were trying to make things less awkward between you two, you had no idea it would end up here with Taesan in your streaming room asking to watch you use your toys on yourself. The usual confidence you possessed on camera lacked in real life, so you were just a stuttering mess.

“Which one do you want me to use?” Your voice managed to say. 

“Let me have a look.” 

He takes himself to the drawer opening each and every one as he rummages around trying to find the perfect toy for you to use. After careful consideration, he decided on an 8 inch purple, vibrating dildo, handing it over to you. 

“This one. Show me how you use it.” His demands were sharp and straightforward but the undertones of his commands were more playful. 

Initially, you were unsure about it but with each word that came out his mouth, the larger the pool grew between your legs. Hence, you were quick to remove your jeans, leaving you in just your white underwear which was already soaked wet, earning you a smirk from Taesan. 

You began prepping yourself, using your fingers to rub over your clothed clit. You craved more tho and this was obvious with the way your hips began grinding against your own hand. Ridding yourself of your panties, your long fingers were quick to dip into your wet core, pumping them slowly, stretching your walls to make sure you could fit the dildo. 

You hadn’t noticed but Taesan had helped himself to the chair near your desk, spreading his legs and leaving his bulge visible. As you eyed his hard-on through his black jeans, you grabbed the dildo and turned on the vibration setting to its lowest speed, ensuring you eased your way into it. You place the tip at your entrance, the vibrations sending jolts of shock up your spine. You continue to push it up inside your pussy as the vibrations had you squirming, feeling sensitive to the rhythmic pulses. 

In the meantime, Taesan had pulled his jeans and boxers down below his knees as his cock stands straight at an impressive length against his clothed torso. His hands run along his thighs before giving his balls a firm squeeze, precum oozing down his shaft. 

You finally start to pump the dildo inside your pussy, increasing the vibration to the next level, causing your knees to shake. Your eyes catch Taesan’s before you notice his large hands stroking his cock violently, matching the pace of your own movements. 

“You’re so sexy, Y/n. I bet you get told that a lot but it’s true. Look at you rolling your eyes like such a slut.” 

His voice much lower than before, sent goosebumps up your arms. The shift in his personality was unexpected and you got a sense of thrill from that. 

“Go faster. Push that fucking toy into you faster. Pretend it’s my dick ramming into you.” 

You did just as he said, slamming the dildo against your pussy, the top abusing the wall of your cervix every time. 

“Such an obedient little slut. Bet your male viewers wank off to you just like I am right now. Bet that gets you really turned on.” 

“Fuck Taesa- aghhh!” Your moans echo through the room as they escape your mouth freely. Your mask wasn’t there to block the sound this time. Taesan’s groans also grow louder as he strokes his cock aggressively. 

“I’m gonna cum!” You moan, eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your high build up in every muscle of your body. 

“Cum for me bitch.” 

With one last stroke, your insides explode as a clear liquid squirts out onto Taesan who was now standing up in front of you. Mere seconds later, he reaches his own high, whining as he shoots his cum on your stomach, making an even bigger mess of you and your sheets. 

“Shit, you look so hot right now. Makes me wanna mark you up. I’ll leave that for next time though,” he taunts, running a hand through his hair as he stands above you half naked. 

“I didn’t know you had it in you to be so…you know…not stoic?” 

“That side only comes out when it needs to. Don’t get your hopes up.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his arrogance. You found it annoying at first but now you could see why many found it charming. He was deserving of his popularity. 

Now that you’d seen this side of him, you were beginning to look forward to the collab stream. 

[absent-o-minded]

I find the intersection between the grandeur of theatre (or at least the impression of grandeur in a dire environment) and the performative nature of torture (thinking back to Shakespearean tragedies / Renaissance practices) to be really interesting.

The trial is both a performance and a demonstration. The presence of the audience oscillates between an ignorant cheering crowd and a knowing jury. Both the “prosecuted” (Louis, Claudia and Madeleine) and the “prosecutors” (Santiago, Lestat and lurking Armand) inhabit the same theatrical space and garner the same applause, but for VERY different reasons. The coven indulge in the suffering. The suffering are subject to the burning light of day.

The stage serves as a place of multitudes. It is entertainment and a tragedy and a courthouse and a future justification and a racist display and a confession booth and a prison. It would be so difficult to exactly pin-point it’s function because it has so many.

I need to study this show under a microscope. Anon !

[infizero]

blah blah blah YES norman was going to allow ruby to partake in contests. doesnt change the fact he beat him up lol!

[roobylavender]

i think one of the things i want to do over break for funsies is like. rewatch every pak drama of the major contemporary writers nationally hailed as progressive (e.g., umera ahmed, farhat ishtiaq, sameera fazal, etc.) and see how many of the male leads i come out actually still liking. like i want to make an excel spreadsheet cataloguing every red flag that went under my radar as a kid. for science

[candiezmanzion]

metal/neo metal sonic ramble

never not thinking about how robots in idw have text like this

but neo metal sonic has the same text as all the organic characters

he also expresses clear emotion just like an organic person would, if not with a bit more robotic logic behind it [save when hes in a blind rage]

HE EVEN EVILLY LAUGHS AT ONE POINT

neo metal is proof that metal is VERY MUCH CAPABLE OF EMOTIONS LIKE ANY ORGANIC [if it wasnt already obvious when he's just metal] i think its sooo crazy that IDW shows metal is the most 'human' out of all the eggman robots yet he's arguably treated the worst, not even being able to Speak in his standard form.

ik sonic is just being his usual dick self here but he kinda has a point in a way. metal almost definitely WANTS to be able to talk and express himself. but he's reduced to his lesser, albeit still very powerful, form.

oh and don't even get me started...

it's so sad to me how even though he's still very capable of emotion, eggman has literally programmed out any hint of rebelliousness. like sure, it's most likely that even if eggman HADN'T programmed out metal's rebellious streak, he'd still be evil, but this leaves not even a CHANCE for redemption on metal's part.

which makes it even more ironic that sonic says this...

sonic fails to comprehend that metal literally CANNOT become a better person. eggman literally repeats what neo already told sonic, metal is programmed to kill and to be loyal to eggman. he has NO choice. hes been under eggmans control forever and when he rebelled he was beaten and reprogrammed to never be able to rebel again. metal has basically zero autonomy outside of eggman's orders [which is in great contrast to neo, who seems to be working FOR eggman's wishes, but still very much absorbed in his own power and emotions].

i don't really know what this whole ramble is about. i think while the comics seem to push the message that metal is going to be evil Forever, i also think it would be devastatingly tragic if he didn't get a redemption in the comics. y'all cant set up a horrifying depiction of abuse like this and tell me 'oh yeah and he stayed in that state forever'. i think if another fight happened at one point or another maybe they could TRY to figure out how to program OUT his anti rebellion streak? lol? even WITH that he did hesitate when sonic offered for him to be a good person again.

he literally hesitated when SONIC. IS THE ONE WHO OFFERED HIM A TRUCE. like he's literally programmed to believe sonic is his copy and he needs to kill him I don't think i can understate how insane it is that metal, despite all his programming and lack of automomy preventing it, for a split second, considered sonics offer.

thats all for tonight. metal sonic deserves the whole world. please reblog or comment your thoughts id love to talk more abt how hes characterized in the idw comics, might talk abt reflections next. bye !

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymmetrical Symphony - Part 4

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of death.

A.N.: Enjoy the 1st meeting.

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3

• ··········· • ············ •

Death was a definite thing. No matter where you were. Undercity, topside, mid-city. Death didn’t choose. It wasn’t picky. It plucked children from mothers and fathers from children. And it was cruel. As if losing a loved one wasn’t enough, it took the memories. Their voice is the first to go, then their face becomes blurry, and then you only remember what they were when a particular tune comes up or a smell drifts from the window. And then it hits you. Slowly and all at once. A person that had been filling that hole in your heart, and now they're gone.

“Mother?”

The woman’s gaze turned to you and softened, eyes starting to wet just as yours were. Her voice. You remembered her voice. 

“Madame Rainemour.” Caitlyn stood even straighter, almost backbreaking. “I don’t think interrogating a suspect is a contact sport, Miss Kiramman.” Her eyes steeled as she looked at the younger woman. “Where’s their lawyer? If I remember correctly, every prisoner has the right to have a representative to defend them. Where is it?”

Caitlyn's mouth opened and closed, eyes shifting around for an answer.

“Very well.” The older woman, your mother said. “They shall use the Rainemour's attorney as their defender, and until you have summoned a judge, they will be coming home.”

“Home? Judge?” Caitlyn suddenly snapped out of her stupor. “Madame Rainemour, this person is suspected to be entangled with Jin—the author of the attack. They have also assaulted several enforcers and attempted to escape the hospital we had placed them in. I don’t know who this is to you, but to us, they are a person of interest.”

“This is my child, Miss Kiramman. And I will not have you abuse your grief and your power chasing a shadow in hopes of getting to the light bulb.”

“Can we discuss this outside?” Caitlyn hid the surprise well, but her eyebrows shot up, and you had half a mind to not mumble, I told you so. Mostly because you didn’t think your brain was functioning correctly and any thought you would try to convey would come out a jumbled mess. “Uncuff them and will.” “I can’t uncuff them; they are a suspect. They have tried escaping once!”  “Caitlyn, we can do this the hard way or the easy way. I can have the family's attorney here in minutes. He will spin whatever case you have into the tightest knot he can. You’ll be untangling it for months. Or you can uncuff my child and talk to me, and we can find a better solution for all of us.”

You could sense Caitlyn’s frustration as she turned to the table, grabbed the key ring from her belt, and unlocked the cuffs.

“Thank you, shall we?”

They both left the room silently, and you crossed your arms on the table, resting your head in them. 

You realized how tired you were. Not just physically, with all the aching bones and bruises starting to make themselves noticed as the stress levels diminish a little, but also your mind is chaotic and exhausted. And you haven’t even stopped to properly think about this. This shift, the runes, the magic, your mother? This world…

“Hello.” 

You jumped from your curved position, placing a hand on your heart while turning your body in the chair to look at the owner of the voice.

A serious-faced Viktor stood against the wall, near the door. Leaning on his cane with two hands.

“Blue balls of Hextech Vik.” You exhale quickly. “You want to kill me; just boink me in the head with the cane.”

“Blue balls of Hextech?” His square eyebrows raised in confusion, and you realized the slip-up.

“It’s…huh… It’s…complicated… It’s a joke.” 

It was easy how quickly you had forgotten this wasn’t your Viktor. This was their Viktor. And this Viktor didn’t have the memories of your Viktor. All the jokes, the quips, the way you three could have whole conversations in silence.

“It is funny because Hextech does exist in a blue ball form.” he said, the corner of his mouth tilting up. 

“How come they allowed you to be inside the room with a very dangerous criminal such as myself?” You pointed to your pitiful figure.

They didn’t get you a change of clothes, but they gave you some pants. So now you were sitting there, wearing a crimped hospital gown, gray pants that didn’t fit you, feet clad in dirty socks, bandages around your arms, and recently open wounds and bruises. You looked as menacing as a wet dog.

“They did not.” he simply said, shrugging and rolling his eyes.

You shook your head; of course they didn’t. Viktor did what Viktor wanted.

“Alright. I’ll remake the question.” You placed your arm on top of the wooden chair’s back and laid your chin on top of your upper arm. “Why are you in the room with a very dangerous criminal such as myself inside?”

“I have a conundrum.” He said fishing something from the inside of his white vest. A folded piece of paper that he handed to you. “Excuse the scratchiness of the lines. I did it on the trolley rides.”

You raised an eyebrow and unfolded the paper. It was definitely a Viktor sketch. You touched the lines on the paper gently, not even paying attention to what you were looking at. His neat cursive handwritten notes were scattered around a less neat sketch of a broken cog. It was made in pencil, and you assumed there were no erasers around since some of the sketch lines had been drawn thicker to hide previous mistakes. There were fingerprints, smudges, crossed-out words, and the little, neat hatching lines on the corner of the sheet he did when he was deep in thought. This was Viktor, your Viktor. You sigh deeply, doing your best to not think about the past right now.

You blinked the moistness out of your eyes and looked at the sketch. It was a broken cog, cracked in some places. There was a thin arrow pointing to one of the cracks.

‘Councilor Hosket, deceased.’ 

In the lower right corner, two dotted, parallel lines are drawn with a note pointing to it. 

‘No major damage.’

A little V drawn right next to the lines, near one of the cracks, had two arrows coming out of it. One arrow, thicker, went from outside the dotted lines to the inside, where another V was noted down, next to an interrogation point. The letters M J were also scribbled between the ‘no major damage lines.’

The other arrow was thinner and had another V next to a cross. 

‘Councilor Bolbok: deceased’ a line read next to the cross.

This wasn’t a cog. It was the table at the councilor chamber and the damage after the attack. You narrowed your eyes first, confused, but grinned a second after. Of course Viktor would have investigated the attack. Especially because you did tackle him out of what he figured out was the line of fire.

“I do not believe in luck. I believe in chance, but not luck.” He explained, leaning back into the wall, his golden gaze on you. “But I do believe the facts. Especially ones I can prove. You see, in all of the calculations I made, and I’ve been making them since I woke in a hospital bed.” He spat the last part with a palpable distaste. “Of the people who were in the path of most destruction, myself and Jayce were saved with mostly bruises and scratches. Jayce, I hypothesized, in an attempt to save Councilor Medarda, saved himself, pushing both out of the way.”

Sighing, you realized how much you missed his ramblings. He could have just said ‘I should have died, but I didn’t and I don’t know why.’ But here he was going on and on about the waves of destruction and the building infrastructure and how having a glass dome was just vanity and very unsafe. Excitedly talking with hands, always having one on the cane while the other moved through the air. His expression became animated, eyebrows raised and falling, his head bobbing around. And you couldn't help but smile softly at him.

Until he looked at you straight in the eyes.

“You're staring.” He stated, and you quickly moved your gaze elsewhere. Anywhere but him. “Sorry, old habit.” “It’s quite alright. I’m used to it. The cripple with the big words.” He stopped the sentence abruptly. “I don’t know why I said that to you. Anyway. My question is. Why did you push me out of the way?”

You searched your tired brain for a reason that didn’t involve time-jumping to save him from himself. Although if there was someone who would believe you, it would be him.

“Well, I knew about the attack… and I was trying to warn the councilors before it was too late.”

He frowned and shook his head, his eyes narrowing and widening as he thought about something.

“The quickest way to evacuate the Academy and the Council Chamber would have been to pull the fire alarm. You must have passed at least... He looked up mapping your hypothetical path to the chamber. “Four.”

“There was a rocket going straight to the Academy. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You answered, reverting to defending yourself.

His eyes narrowed for a moment, pushing himself off the wall with his shoulders and taking a step towards you. His cane and another familiar metal thump made you shift your gaze to his leg. He had already enhanced it. 

“But you were focused.” He said as he got close to you, so close you could smell the minty hard candy he kept in his pocket. He grabbed the paper from your hands, leaned down, hooked the handle of his cane on the table, and placed the paper on the table, the broken table schematic turned over. A small map was drawn surrounded by math equations.

You took the opportunity to look at his face up close. He looked less tired; the bags under his eyes were less dark but still present, his hair was still shaggy and long, but he looked…healthier, livelier. You dropped your eyes to his leg. Was it already eating him inside and pretending it wasn’t? Was this the calm before the storm?

“You are staring again.” You heard him, but this time you looked up at him. “You remind me of someone.” He searched your eyes for deception but found none.

He was about to speak again when the doors to the room burst open, and you both looked up and back.

Fuming was a mild way to describe Caitlyn’s mood as she strode to the table and slammed a pen and a paper down. You turned your body, watching Viktor grab his cane from the back of the chair.

“Sign this.” She barked. You looked back to watch your mother looking at you, her nose held high and a slight grin on her face. She nodded.

You read the paper in front of you. Father always said never to sign anything without reading it first. 

In sum, it was a bond contract. The council would let you go free, but aside from a hefty sum of money paid, you could not leave Piltover and had to be present whenever the Enforcers notified you for questioning. You must always be accompanied by a counsellor of your choosing, and you could reschedule it to your liking. If you were caught doing something illegal, you would be apprehended and shoved off to jail until further notice.

You almost didn’t finish signing your last name as Caitlyn pulled the paper under your hands.

“You’re free to go.” She hisses through gritted teeth.   • ············ •

The sky was still specked with the colors of morning when you stepped outside, closely followed by Viktor and your mother.

“I think this belongs to you, dear.” She grabbed your hand and placed the locket on your palm.

The metal was warm with her own heat, and your palm was cold and scarred, the soft gold contrasting with the rune that had appeared there. You stared at the familiar locket, silently.

Standing in the middle of a whole new Piltover, it looked the same; it smelled the same. You confirmed with your mother’s presence that it wasn't just a time jump. You were in a completely new universe.

And in the middle of it all, whoever the bigger deity was who had decided to do this had given you a very illegal and very cool new power. Magic. You weren’t dumb; you spent enough evenings in the Talis lab hearing both of the boys yapping about runes and magic. And you had spent enough time with Heimerdinger to know the use of magic was not allowed in Piltover. 

You were drowning in your heartbeat, but your lungs were working overtime.

Are you supposed to stay here? Are you going to go back? Do you want to go back? To the end of the line? To the place where everything ends? With Jayce on his knees and the Herald destroying everything you knew and loved. What if you stayed here and did something that could make it all worse? 

“Child?” The touch on your face sent a shock through your body, and you jumped back, eyes wide with fear.

The expression on your mother’s face softened, and she took a step towards you.

“Let’s go home now. We’ll sort this out after you take a bath and eat something.”

Her voice, her voice was like a song loved and forgotten. Every word she said was a stroke of a piano key flooding your senses with warmth and love.

Her eyes matched your own, but you guessed that. You used to roll them whenever someone told you you had your mother's exact eye color. You got a little angry that they remembered her that well and you didn’t. But they were right.

Her face hadn’t shown many signs of aging. Some crow's feet and laugh lines, but she looked beautiful. Graceful. Bright.

And you felt dishonest when you mentioned her as your mother, or when she mentioned you as her child. You weren’t. Not really. 

“I don’t think I am your child.” You whispered, sadly, after a second. 

“I know, sweetheart.” 

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @adithsaley @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @angelsukiipls @casey8522 @moons-lighttrail @buttermilktea11 @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @hazzawillian

[drdemonprince]

also like. The way that some discoursers describe the role of a "power differential" in an age gap relationship is heavily informed by cishet relationship expectations that frame a romantic relationship as adversarial.

Just saw someone in the comments of a post about age gaps discussing how confusing it can be to determine who in a relationship actually has the "upper hand," once you take into account factors like income, immigration status, race, and so on. True enough facts, but also -- why are we discussing relationships in terms of who has the upper hand? How will that upper hand be utilized and what does it mean to actually be in a loving relationship with another person when that is how you approach how you relate to one another?

Liberal feminist dating advice for cishet women in particular leads them to become obsessed with not losing the "upper hand" over the men that they are dating -- to not show too much affection or genuine interest, to not forgive mistakes lest you become weak, to not become dependent upon a partner, to remain economically empowered and so on.

Again, these are very sensible attempts to balwark oneself against systemic sexism in the patriarchy, I'm not blaming women for often needing to do all of that.

But can you actually be in a mutually supportive, interdependent relationship if you are constantly guarding yourself against losing your position? Is it loving, is it nourishing, is it a real relationship if you must always guard yourself against losing the "upper hand"?

Patriarchal laws and policies and the awful conduct of many men obviously makes this kind of thinking adaptive for many, but it is horrible that cishet women feel that they can never be vulnerable around the people that they love. That is not a state of affairs we should consider acceptable or admirable; that kind of thinking is not a solution to the real issue at hand, which in this case is systemic sexism, but in other cases could be ageism, classism, what have you.

we need to remove the existing power differentials in a structural way so that people are free to love others how they want to, and not constantly guard themselves against those they love. But even in the meantime, viewing a single interpersonal relationship as the battleground in which these systemic forces play out is a bit confused.

Telling individual people who are marginalized that they must be mindful of the "power differential" when electing whom to date is a bit like telling women they shouldn't "let" themselves be assaulted by wearing the wrong item of clothing or hanging out in the wrong places. That is not why abuse happens. It is not in the marginalized person's control. And instructing marginalized people to avoid receiving love and support as means of protecting themselves only leaves them far more vulnerable in a lot of cases.

[skyenish]

You’ve got the same eyes as your mother | Riddle Rosehearts animatic 🌹|

———

I’m not really happy with how this turned out but I’m gonna be honest, I’m just doing anything possible to avoid having to work on stuff I should he working on and drawing is suddenly difficult again, but we keep fighting! Fuck it we ball‼️

(Did you notice I didn’t want to draw the Heartslabyul boys? I love them dearly but they’re my least favorites to draw by FAR, because Ace ily but that hair makes my hands want to explode)

Anyways, here is my little Riddle analisys! Its so tragic to see how much like his mom he’s become. Riddle really isn’t mean or evil, he’s trying to help his dorm in basically the only way he knows how. Perhaps it also shows how abuse victims can become abusers themselves, but on a smaller scale? I am not well read on this topic though, so I hope that’s not insensitive to say. It’s just cool to see how most of the Overblotters become like the people that played a big part in their lives. Azul becomes a “bully”, Jamil becomes a “master” who uses others like servants, Leona becomes dismissive of others, and Riddle becomes like his mom. There are parallels there I think!

You know, Riddle is a very interesting character. Out of all the Overblotters, I’d say he’s the least “evil” person (that’s not to say that the others are evil), in the way that he’s the least selfish, and he’s also the only one who properly apologized. Though, the others also apologized in their own way of course.

Riddle really convinced himself that was he was doing was good, that he was in the right and that he was only protecting the dorm and teaching them the proper way. One of my favorite moments from book 1 was when Riddle cried and apologized, and said that he really wanted to eat that chestnut cake, and he doesn’t like most of the rules! Also of course the line “what rule do I have to follow to make my heart stop hurting”, it truly is devastating.

Sometimes I wonder how Riddle feels when he looks in the mirror, and he sees someone so similar to his mother. He probably feels conflicted, right? He loves her and knows she’s highly succesful, but why does he feel sick at the thought of him being similar to her? I find it interesting how dual and contradictory the overblotters are, and Riddle is no different. I have this headcanon that his housewarden uniform is modeled slightly after his mom, and after his Overblot he changes his uniform, and it resembles her less. I really like Riddle’s character, but I don’t think about him that much. Maybe I should do that more often?

I hope you guys like my interpretation of him and my rambling, and if you didn’t I’d love to hear your interpretation! And if I got something wrong, please correct me in the comments!!

[hidtired]

Unfortunate Timing [Part 2]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

4.2k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

A single moment can change your life, change the world. Everything only seemed to get worse. The quarry was a group of survivors that had formed. You and the Dixons were outcasts, at least it felt like it. The girls seemed to see you in low regard being pregnant. The men were no better. They saw you as a burden. The feeling of people talking behind your back stressed you out. Being pregnant also didn’t help. You felt tired all the time, also being plagued with morning sickness. Which is a stupid name when it happens all day. Throwing up in a world were food is now limited also leaves you uneasy.

You also see that stress weighing on Daryl. It wasn’t long ago he struggled with the fact of having a kid. Now seemed even more terrifying. He was becoming short tempered, to his credit only snapping at you once but regretted the way he almost made you cry. “No! I won’t take a break I have to keep going out there for food! You’ve been throwing up half the shit I’ve already gotten for you!”

He didn’t mean for it to sound like your wrong for doing so, he knew you couldn’t help it. He saw the glassy film come to the corner of your eyes. His heart tugged. You were in your tent you shared, sat on the sleeping bag with your head shamefully down. “No, no. Come on…” he angled your face back up to met his. He sank to his knees in front of you. “I know you can’t help it. M’ just trying to say you need more. I just want to make sure you’re gettin enough.” You had asked him to stay because he was rarely around. He was out alone looking for food and you couldn’t help but see every time he came back a little more on edge. He was getting into his head to much out there.

He knows you’re having a hard time. With being pregnant at this moment in time how could you not. You had tried to talk to the mothers of the camp for advice on anything, they didn’t bat an eye to you. You had looked for support and were denied it. He saw that you were being treated like a Dixon. Something he was familiar with, and something Merle also understood. Merle became more chill around you. No more sexual comments or sexist remarks. Doesn’t mean he is any less better to be around. He treated you like a sister you thought. He still was an ass. Making mean comments or complaining about something you did. But he had become family.

Andrea was your biggest pain. She seemed like she had something to prove. She hated the traditional female roles that had been pushed onto the girls. You understood her disliking for Merle but she attached that to Daryl and you as well. She didn’t say outright mean things but subtle jabs. Week after week it was chipping at your demeanor.

So here you are now, you think almost 3 months pregnant. Seeing Daryl was the highlight of whenever he appeared. You sat in your tent with him getting ready for his 2 day hunting trip for a deer he knew was near by. He sighed feeling your eyes on him, “Yer breakin my heart with that look.” Your smiling face replacing your sulking one, “I’m just missing you already.” You stood up, “You should see something before you go.” He turned to you questioningly. You pulled your shirt up over your stomach and turned to the side, “I know I haven’t seen myself in a mirror for a while but, I think I’m showing?” You looked up from your little bump that you could see spotting the surprised face he was making. He gulped before talking, “Ya sure are…” he walked closer placing a hand to your tummy. You saw his teeth were clenched. He felt the weight of pressure crushing him,

“We are doing are best, that’s all I could ask from you.”

He left for his hunt a little less stressed. You also saw Merle off later into the day with the first group run to the city. “Hey do me a favor and don’t get yourself killed.” Merle turned to you, “And have those freaks naw on m' sweet ass?” You chuckle as you walk away, “Let’s just hope you remember your ass from your elbow!”

The day progress like any other. It had just become the afternoon when the sound of the radio chirped on. It cause some disagreement about making a sign to warn others about the city. You just went back to minding your own business. You helped boil water taking notice of Lori trimming her son’s hair. You spoke up noticing the displeased look on Carl's face, “Going for a mohawk Carl? Or maybe you’re thinking bald.” His nose scrunched up at the thought. You laugh at the reaction, “Bald people run faster.” Carl smiled, “Nuh-uh!” You shook your head and shrugged, “How do you know if you won’t try.” He looked to his mom, “I’d rather have hair than be faster!” He said it to his mom like he tried convincing her to not make him bald. Lori smiled at her son, “Ya me to, but if you keep moving you might be bald at the end of this.” He straightened and stilled, but he still spoke, “I hate haircuts…”

Shane came and sat down looking at you briefly. “One of these days you’ll be missing your mother’s hair cuts.” Carl rolled his eyes, "I'd like to see that day!" It had initially shocked you that Shane wasn’t Carl's dad. You always assumed for how close they were and how often they would walk into the woods together. Then it put a gross feeling into your mouth that his father had only recently died. Shane was his apparent best friend and coworker. But it wasn’t necessarily wrong, you just didn’t like to think about it often.

After finishing with boiling water you handed it to Carol. You felt sweaty and all around unpleasant. You needed a nap. You said to Carol that you were going to lay down if they needed to find you. You woke up to arguing. The group that went out had radioed saying there was a problem. Everyone was scared for their respective family that had gone to the city. You felt a pit form in your stomach. The hormones in your body already swarming causing you to be unable to control them. You picture what happened to your Aunt in front of you. Sometimes it still feels as if the blood was still on your face. The thought of knowing she was one of those things walking around somewhere. Maybe they all were already dead like her. You weren’t exactly thrilled about Merle as a person but, you knew deep down he was another person to help protect your baby.

You decided there was no use in stressing yourself, so you went and distracting yourself with chores. Laundry, moving fire wood to our fire pit, took a walk near the perimeter, which now leaves you here at the waters edge. You used the cool water to help with the swelling in your feet and ankles. Week after week you had the sense that being pregnant is going to really suck farther down the road. You fiddle with your knife while swaying your feet in the water. Lost in your own world when an echo starts to ring out throughout the quarry.

The car alarm got louder so you slipped your shoes on and walked back up to the camp. You saw a red car and Glenn standing outside of it. Shane opening the hood and pulling something to stop its beeping. People were yelling at him for answers when a van appeared, ‘so everyone made it back.’ It was a relief to stop the constant thought of the worse. You couldn’t help but notice Merle nowhere to be seen. But that thought was pushed aside when you heard Carl scream,

“DAD!”

You watched with a smile at the reunion of the Grimes family. Also taking notice of Shane making a weird face. He probably was feeling sick to his stomach and you thought it kinda deserved. He did persuade his grieving wife. The thought was interrupted by T-dog coming toward you with a concerned face. You clicked something was wrong, then started to look around. Merle was still no where. The sinking feeling of realization hit you. T-dog watch as understanding washed over you. A hand over your mouth, “W-where is Merle?” A few others turning at the mention, Lori’s husband taking the most notice. T-dog spoke first, “He was putting all of us in danger. He was cracked out of his mind.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, ‘I told him to behave.’ You inhale trying to calm yourself, “He dead?” T-dog shook his head. You nodded looking at all the pears of eyes on you. Your eyes were shiny but nothing fell. You huffed and walked back to your tent. While you were upset about Merle being gone it wasn’t about that. It proved how fucked this new world was becoming. A world your child would have to be in. Suddenly being pregnant with them seemed like the safest place for them. Your thoughts of how it would suck later in pregnancy and 'couldn’t wait for it to be over' stopped. Your child is the safest it will ever be in its life. That terrifying thought scared you.

It wasn’t until later when the sun began to set that you had calmed. It was cold and you wanted to sit by a fire. People were surprised when you appeared and sat with them. You had over heard parts about what happened to Rick. But at the sight of you got them talking about Merle. It was Dale who brought it up, “Who is going to tell Daryl Dixon about his brother?” Rick glanced to you then back to Dale, “I will. I’m the one who handcuffed him.” Then T-dog shook his head, “Nah I dropped the key, makes this one mine.” Based on that information you started to piece what happened on the run. That thought stalled to a stop when Glenn stated, “Not to make it about race but maybe a white guy should tell him?” Is that what they thought about Daryl? They just assuming he is like his brother? You huff in anger, “Really Glenn? He is not racist. He’s only the person that, you know, been feeding all of you.” Glenn turned sheepish at your harsh tone. You stood, “But you know, leave his brother for dead seems like a good trade for how much he has been doing for all of you people!”

You visible deflate mood switching on a dime. You move a hand to your small bump, “Sorry I know you probably had a good reason, Merle is a hard ass.” You sunk back down enjoying the fire too much to go to bed. Rick’s voice spoke calmly, “Your pregnant.” He stated it more as a realization. You look to his shocked face, clearly thinking of how unlucky a timing it was to be. You chuckled speaking sarcastically, “Keep up with those observations and you’re sure to make detective.” His eyebrows drawn in by thought, “Merle was the father?” Disgust washing over your face, “Ew. God I take it back.” Everyone was surprised at your blatant dislike for Merle. They knew Daryl was the dad. You start to clarify, “Daryl is the dad.” You took notice of there original reaction, “Look I don’t like Merle anymore then you probably do. Half the time I don’t think Daryl does either! But he is still at the end of the day my family now.”

Peoples lack of trying to talk to you has put there own version of you in there head. They thought you were quiet and jumpy. Questioning if they did talk to you they would do more harm then good like with Carol. Now the few talks they’ve had or heard from you made sense. You were out spoken and just tired from being pregnant. You stood up again feeling awkward. “I’m going to bed, figure out what to say to Daryl. Maybe watch out for a punch or two.” So you walked off to bed. You were happy you could see Daryl in the morning, but the thought of him learning of his brother broke your heart. You tossed and turned most of the night with the thought.

The light shining through your tent lead you awake. Still trying to cling to as much sleep while feeling drowsy. Then you heard Carl and Sophia screams. You sat up and tried to get to your feet causing a wave of dizziness. The shuffling of stomping feet telling you people were running over there. You slip on shoes taking a moment to become alright with gravity again. Amy and Andrea walked away when you walked over a voice caught your attention, “Its gotta be the brain, don’t youall know nothing?” You smiled glad Daryl is back. When you turn the corner however you weren’t expecting a walker and deer to be sprawled out dead on the floor. You made eye contact with Daryl when the smell of the walker pulled a gag from you. The smile being wiped from your face as a hand comes to your mouth. You immediately turned back around and walked away.

Daryl was well aware of how sensitive your senses have become. You can’t handle anything raw at the moment. He noticed a week into the quarry how you would look at something raw, something that never bother you before, and it would make you queasy. Speaking of raw he should probably get the squirrels ready. He sighed watching you walk away with a love sick hopelessness washed on his face. Something that people have never taken notice of before. So he called for his brother to help, so he could get to you sooner. That's when all hell broke loose.

You heard the calls for Merle hearing Daryl walk back. Then you saw all the guys surround him. Then you watched him pace back and forth. You knew that was a coping thing he did so you decided to stand closer. By the time you had walked over he threw the squirrels he’d caught at Rick. You didn’t even have a moment to yell his name when the former policemen jumped him and pinned him. Shane putting him in a headlock and Rick getting in his face. You yelled in displeasure,

“Get the hell off him!”

It was the loudest anyone has heard you, also the angriest. Shane had glanced to you before releasing his hold on him. Daryl sprung back up frustration clear on his face. When he turned to make sure you were behind him you caught a glimpse of his eyes becoming glassy. T-dog chimed in from the earlier conversation you didn’t hear, “It’s not his fault, I dropped the key.” Daryl’s voice strained, “You couldn’t pick it up?!” T-dog looked down guilty, "Well, I dropped it into a drain. But before I left I chained the door shut." Daryl shook his head and started to back up, "That supposed to make me feel better! Hell with all of y'all, just tell me where he is so I can go an get him." You hated to see him upset. You weren't expecting Lori to pipe in and volunteering her husband to take Daryl there. Rick said he was planning to go back anyways saying it was wrong for anything to suffer like that. Shane being the typical hard ass and self employed leader strongly disagreed. With a few others joining it was decided, they were going to get Merle back.

You were finally alone with Daryl again. He still seemed riled over everything but also you could see he was getting emotional. He was turned around facing away from you. You slowly wrapped you arms around him, holding him from behind. He slowly turned into you resting his chin on your head and arms going over your shoulders. You felt him release air, sinking into you. He try's to hide it but you see he is exhausted. You saw he felt like he had to prove something to you, or maybe just to himself. He released you with avoided eye contact. He took a moment with you and collected himself but, he was still a man on a mission.

You watch as Daryl throw things into a bag and refusing to met your eye to avoid whatever look that would break his heart. They were about to take off back to the city and into danger, so you stopped Daryl by putting your hands to his chest. He spoke before you could, "Look I have ta go get him, I know you don't want me goin-" You cut him of by grabbing his face, "When you see him again you tell him I warned his dumb ass, and when you get him back here I'm going to chew him out for this!" He looked at you stunned. You use your grip on his face to drag him into a kiss, "And you better comeback here without a scratch!" He smiled at you, eyes soft, he kissed you again.

"Yes Ma'am."

They had left hours ago and you had that uneasy feeling again. You respected Rick more then anyone else at the camp and he just got here. He was a decent guy but feel bad watching Carl's worried expression. Lori even flipped that he was going right after she herself said he was. Mood swings on that girl, and your the one whos supposed to be pregnant. Jim was off digging which concerned a few. It led to him tided to a tree for his own safety. Granted it was the only eventful thing that would probably happen today. Unless a swamp monster dragged itself out of the water you and all the girls were doing laundry in. Although Ed was a close to one. It was a welcome distraction all the same. To have girl talk again was essential to any girl and none can say other wise. Most of the girls seemed like they could now talk to you and it was a relief.

Although Andrea kinda still sucks the life out of fun, "So how did you end up pregnant?" Most girls look over to her wet laundry in hand and displeased looks by the question. You tightly rung a shirt and looked at her in the eye, "Well, I think your a little old for the birds and bees talk." That gained an eye roll from her but chuckles from the others. You smiled before giving her the answer you are sure she was trying to dig for, "I found out a day before the fall." The thought making you think of your Aunt. You continued on anyways, "Daryl and I hadn't been dating that long I'll be honest, so it wasn't exactly planned. Then I thought it was the end of the world." You look around to the thoughtful faces around you and shrugged, "Turns out I was a day off on that though." It was lighthearted from there, mentions of things that they missed from before. Carols unexpected and less then innocent choice sent waves of laughter throughout the lady's. That fun was crushed by the swamp monster known as Ed.

It lead to something you didn't expect. His sexism rubbing everyone the wrong way. Making Andrea questioned what he did instead of sitting on his ass doing nothing. Which while true and agreed with it lead to him to try to take Carol away and most likely go hit her. When Andrea challenge Ed in doing so it left a sinking feeling in you. You were uncomfortable with confrontation, probably do with the way your parents had treated you. Even with the sinking feeling you try and pull Carol behind you. The exaltation of his action were unpredictable, "Think I won't hit some pregnant whore?!" That was the first swing. It almost fully landed grazing your cheek. Carol had used the arm you had on her to tug you back before he swung. The frightened yelps and yells grabbing the attention from those farther. Carol now stood slightly in front of you, your cold damp hand moving to your warmed cheek he clipped. Ed now focused on his wife slapping her and trying to drag her away but the other girls now stepping in and clung to her. You didn't even see Shane before he pulled Ed backwards and began to lay punch after punch into him. Everyone but Carol were stunned into silence. Carols cry's and the grunts coming from the men filled the air. So maybe Jim wasn't the only thing that was going to happen today.

Everything was tense after that. With the amount things gone wrong and the still missing members that went to the city, moral was low among the group. Later in the evening Amy and Andrea had gone fishing catching dinner. The sun drifted closer to fully set as the fish was cooked with one question still in there minds, 'Where were they?' The smell of the fish left you gagging and need for fresher air. You found you way back to the water to dip your swollen feet in the water again. It wasn't a unusual thing you did, you did it often. Knife in hand and legs swaying in the cool water. The light dissipated making you aware you should get back soon. You had heard laughs by the camp so moral was rising from the stressful day. You used your cold hands to press to your reddened face from almost getting flattened out by Ed. Daryl would will not be happy about that. You had pulled you feet from the water shaking the water off them to put your shoes on. Then the day got even worse. A scream ripped threw the air making you turn to the sound. You see outlines of figures in the dark. You feel fear crash into you.

'Walkers...'

There were even two coming closer to you from the woods to the side of the water. They had almost snuck up on you if you hadn't looked around because of the scream. A tremble was in your hand as you gripped the knife you had. You slowly back away, hearing gunshots off in the air. Daryl had taught you this for this moment. He had grilled this into you in fear that maybe he wouldn't be around to protect you. The first walker was a thin women, the other a male missing its arm and limping. You lunged the knife into the women's eye. Your knife breaking by the blade as the women fell over dead. The snapping of the metal was like slow motion, the other walker steps away from you. You step back bare feet getting hurt by the jagged rocks. You had looked down spotting a larger rock and hurriedly pick it up.

You remember the motions Daryl had showed you for self defense but had never practiced them with him. He didn't really like the idea of rough housing with his pregnant girlfriend even if it was for your defense. You reached and tugged the one arm the walker had and tripped the thing in the motion. It was flat on the floor about to get back up and grab at you. However, rock in hand you threw downward blows one after another even after the thing stopped moving. Blood splatting all over you shirt and down your arms. The buzz of adrenalin causing your hands to violently shake when you stopped swinging. The urge to cry was strong but you notice the now slue of gunshots that had increased stop. The silence broken by the yell and worried cry for your name.

"Y/N!!!"

Your body fluttered at the sound of Daryl. Still bare foot you ran up the gravel hill and yelling back to him with emotion in your voice, "DARYL!!!" You had made it to the top getting to see him wipe around to your voice. His crossbow dropped to the ground as you both booked it toward each other. He didn't know what to think when he couldn't find you after the last walker fell. The inability to find you cracking a desperate hole into his chest. When he heard you and saw you running to him relief flooded him. As he ran panic rose again seeing you dripping in blood. Inches apart he heard your desperate sobs before crashing into one another. He pulled you off your feet lifting you into him. His voiced stuttered out, "Are you bit?! Are you ok?!" You voice quivering as you sucked in a breath. "I'm alright-t." He felt you shaking like a leaf and whispered into you, "I've got ya, nothin is gonna hurt ya." You had barred your face into his neck now crying in relief. Daryl helped you get cleaned up, that night you clung to him while everyone 'slept'. A moment can change everything, and it was clear to everyone after today.

They were no longer safe here and things were only going to get worse.

Part 3

Feedback welcome and requests open!

taglist

@daryldixmedown @aureolinb @the1eyedmonster16 @lettersfromyourlove @felicisimor

@daryl-dixons-left-hand @sokkasimp101 @darylssextoy69 @ddixon99 @itwasntaphasema

@iluvme9 @lunajay33 @twisteduniverse5 @thestonedwriter

[fairyofsilence]

BEHIND HIS LENSE | 2/7 | TTIB SERIES | PREVIEW

Pairing: Photographer!Taehyung x PersonalAssistant!Reader

Warnings: +18, Yandere, manipulation, drugging, EXPLICIT NONCON; cunnilingus, rough sex, victim blaming, slut shaming, blackmailing, abuse of power, coercion.

Summary: After 4 long years of working for the extravagant photographer Vante, you decide to step down from your job after catching feelings for your boss, which you're sure he will never return.

But he's determined to show you that there's only one person he will consider his muse, and it's you.

I don't agree nor condone any of the actions made by any of the characters throughout the story, I also do not belive that any of the members of BTS would act this way or have this type of behaviour, this story it's fiction and it's written with the sole purpose of entertainment, please proceed with caution.

Word count: 0.8 k.

Just a quick preview of what's coming :)

In three days from now, you’ll be quitting the only job you’ve ever had.

You know you’re extremely lucky to have landed such a sought-after job with absolutely no experience at all, especially when you consider who you’re working for, but you had truly underestimated just how demanding this job was, the number of errands you do in a day will send a normal person into a coma. At first, things started to pile up pretty quickly, and eventually, you learned how to keep on top of things, becoming one of the best at what you do, but recently, there’s something that no matter how hard you tried to push it aside, you can’t seem to shake it off, and if the job was hard before that, this just had officially made it unbearable.

You’re falling in love with your boss.

At first it was nothing but a simple, innocent crush, to be fair, how can anyone blame you? Taehyung is an attractive man, and his charm rapidly made your 20-year-old-self infuriated, although that crush faded quite quickly (thanks to Taehyung’s insufferable attitude the first couple of months), these past couple of months have been messing with your head, quite frankly, you think you’re going insane with the amount of overthinking you’ve been doing, but there’s things you can’t make up, especially since other people have been noticing too.

It all started with a simple comment, your best friend had planted the seed into your brain.

“Wow, since when did you get a raise?” Sohee’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets while she makes grabby hands at your new bag, you hand it out to her, and she touches it like it’s made of glass “How in the hell did you afford a brand-new Flamenco bag? I thought you said you were saving up for a new apartment!” Her tone is so high that you needed a second to digest what she just said, which leaves you more confused than you already are.

“What are you even talking about? If you think I bought this bag than I’ll have to reconsider all these years of friendship” You tried to joke around but Sohee doesn’t seem to be taking this lightly.

“How the hell did you get a 4-thousand-dollars bag then? You didn’t tell me you had a sugar daddy!” You almost faint when hearing the actual price of your new bag, but before she can say anything even more stupid, you quickly try to cover her mouth, but she swats your hand easily.

“Can you stop? I didn’t know it was this expensive!” She raises one of her brows at you and you feel the need to explain yourself “I don’t have a sugar daddy dumbass; Taehyung gave it to me the other day after a photoshoot” Sohee’s mouth opens so wide you have to restrain yourself to not laugh and cause an even bigger scene at the company’s cafeteria.

“Are you kidding me? Are you fucking him or something?” You gave Sohee a nasty look that she couldn’t care less about “I think the nicest thing Namjoon has ever done for me is saying ‘Please’ or ‘Thank you’, and he doesn’t even do that often, how the hell did you get your boss to give you a damn designer bag?” Her fixation over a bag is starting to get in your nerves, so you try to explain the situation to her.

“It was during a photoshoot like three days ago, he shot the new Loewe campaign and during a break I said that the color of this bag is very pretty, he asked if I liked the bag and I said yes because it was the biggest one where I could definitely fit everything I needed on it, he just nodded and by the end of the shoot he came to me with the bag on his hand telling me it was for me, I asked him why would he gave it to me and he just said ‘It matches your blouse’, kind of dumb if you ask me” Sohee was truly in a state of shock by the end of you explanation, and you didn’t know what to even say to her about that.

She’s speechless for a few seconds before she looks at you with an accusing stare.

“Wait a second, didn’t you tell me once that he made you send the girls he fucks a designer bag when he’s trying to fuck them?” Her eyebrows are almost reaching her hairline, and you don’t even know how to defend yourself because that was true.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything-” Sohee shuts you up with a single look, and you are forced to face the reality.

“Y/N, wake up, that man wants something from you, and it’s not anything casual if he’s giving you these types of gifts, we’ll let it slide this time” You scoff at her ‘we’ but she ignores you, “But if this keeps happening, you have two options, tell him to back off, or” Her tone was starting to piss you off, and you didn’t know if it was because she was being truly annoying, or because deep down you knew that she was right, “you can get more out of him, not just a designer bag”.

[faggot-greg-house]

lets talk abt house and empathy. the general perception of house is that he's hypoempathetic and generally doesn't care about people. however i would argue very distinctly that he cares TOO much and feels TOO MUCH empathy!!

this is my second post in a row talking abt john house but THINK abt his childhood! they moved around constantly, so he likely never got a chance to make friends as a kid. his dad abused him and his mom let it happen. for a kid who cared so much about the people around him, that would kill him!!!! it's highly likely that he initially developed his "antisocial tendencies" as a protective mechanism so that people couldn't hurt him by leaving or by actually hurting him.

on top of that, he says that he became a doctor essentially because he saw a guy who was treated horribly and yet people still needed him when it came to medicine. it makes a lot of sense to me that a young greg house would feel deeply for that man AND see himself in him. he also talks about how the appeal of his job is solving puzzles - but there are lots of other jobs where that would work!!! he could have become a detective (acab but w/e), a computer scientist, etc etc. instead he chose a career where he SAVES people.

house doesn't talk to patients because he doesn't want them to become real to him, because then he'll care too much. a puzzle is a puzzle and a puzzle doesnt need feelings or morality, but when he has to come face to face with a patient, it becomes a situation where he can start to feel for them and care about them. this is commented on multiple times in the show but notably in the episode with the doctor in antarctica, who he cares very deeply about by the end.

i also firmly believe that house is autistic, like its nondebatable to me, and i think that he doesn't instinctively know how to read social cues, which is why he's so obsessed with patterns. he's memorized what emotions look like on other people, and he's memorized the typical behaviors of the people around him (e.g. wilson's ties, stacy's cross) and that's how he can read their emotions. if he doesn't connect to a patient he can't necessarily feel their emotions as strongly, he has no chance to learn their reactions!!

[pit-and-the-pen]

I'll Crawl Home to Her- Chapter 2

Sorry this update took a little longer, I had some personal stuff going on and my work schedule was pretty packed this week.

Also, this is a fix-it fic. It'll be following the events of the whole series so buckle in y'all. Also also, I shit on Tamlin a lot in these next chapters but it has a purpose I promise!

Chapter warnings: Warnings: Mention of abuse/ trauma, one comment about weight in terms of said said abuse , minor blood

WC: 9.6K

Read the previous parts here

[prologue] [chapter 1]

Next Part [here]

“Rhys is the most handsome High Lord.” I read line after line of similar words. I rolled my eyes at my brother's antics. 

“He’s sure laying it on thick.” I say as I sat down next to Feyre. She looks up from her writing and gives me a guarded laugh. 

“At least I’m entertaining.” She huffs out. 

“I can help you too, if you want. Give you a break from him.” She raises her eyebrow at me, studying me with a look that made me want to sink in on myself. 

“Why?” She asks sharply  

I willed my temper down. “Because despite what Tamlin might tell you, we’re not evil,” I spit out at her, she doesn’t flinch even slightly at the venom in my voice. “And you’re going to be here once a month for the foreseeable future. I’d like us to at least tolerate each other. Plus, it would piss off my brother.” Her eyes shone with mischief.

“You should have started with that.” And that was that. I pushed Rhys’ papers to the side and picked out a few books that had been my favorite. The plots are interesting enough to make up for the basic words used. Feyre caught on fairly easily. She could recognize almost all of the basic words but struggled to read them out loud. Not fully understanding how the sounds mashed together. We sat and read, and then when that got to be too much for her we just started talking. It was nothing deep, not really gossip either. Just casual words thrown back and forth until she asks out of the blue. “What’s the deal with Tamlin and Rhys?” I froze into stillness only fae possessed. Sensing my discomfort she backtracked. “You don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked.” Her voice held a little edge of fear. I forced my shoulders to relax. 

“No, you have every right to ask. It’s…complicated. You’re walking into centuries old distrust and unfortunately, are caught in the middle.” It wasn’t fair to her to be caught in all of this old shit. That was our baggage and I could see it was affecting her but she pressed on.

“But why do they hate each other so much?”

“I’m not the best person to ask.” She narrowed her eyes at my non-answer. I sighed. “We’ve both done some terrible things to each other's courts, the wounds run deep and that’s all I’ll tell you.”

“Why?” She would not let up. 

“Because you love Tamlin. And I don’t want you to think I’m trying to ruin whatever picture you have of him.” That really seemed to pique her curiosity. 

“You had a different experience with him?” It felt like she had punched me in the stomach. No. That’s the problem, I had the exact same experience with him and I ended up just as broken as I can see you’re becoming. 

“That’s not a story for today.” I tried to keep the shake out of my voice and maybe it was that, or the fear I know I couldn’t keep off of my face that made her drop the subject with a small, “okay”. 

It was lunch time before we decided to take a break.  “Do you want to eat here or go out with the others?” 

“Rhys will just pull me out if I don’t.” 

“My brother can fuck off. What do you want to do?” I saw a ghost of a smile twitch across her face. So we ate in the library. I left only long enough to stack up two plates full of food. Rhys took in the amount of food I was grabbing, 

“Hungry today?” I only stuck my tongue out at him and walked back out of the room. 

Rhys joined us a little after lunch. If he was surprised to still see me in here, he didn’t let it show. I didn’t leave until Feyre told me she was okay with me doing so. 

It was probably overkill to be so protective of her, Rhys was the last person who would ever try to hurt her or anything like that but she was still uneasy around him. She hid it well with the sheer disdain she showed him but I could tell from the rigidness of her shoulders and that slight edge in her voice. But there was also something else there that I couldn’t put my finger on. 

Feyre had stayed in the library long after their meeting. I found her hunched over another book, finger slowly tracing over the words. She hardly looked up as I placed another plate of food in front of her and went to walk out of the room. She didn’t call after me and I was okay with that. Scared she might start another round of questions. 

I didn’t see much of her after that. So I traveled back and forth between Velaris. Spending half my time at the manor and the other half actually doing my job as researcher. I really didn’t have to work but it gave me something to fill up my days. Before Amarantha I spent most of my time helping Cassian manage the Illyrians, from the background of course. Being the High Lords sister did not save me from their views on females. So I only showed up when necessary, Azriel and Cassian always following behind me. They learned fast enough to keep their tongues in check if they wanted to keep them in their mouths. 

Currently I was looking at old maps of Prythian. Combining through records for landscapes and t river patterns. Where the boundaries have shifted over time. And then came the daunting task of trying to pick out recountings of the old war. Figuring out who does best with what court. Prepping for the outcome we were all dreading, another war with Hybern. 

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to get from these books.” Cassian said, absently flipping through the large leather bound book I had just placed to the side. 

“Anything. Weakness, strengths, strategies, gods, anything.” I said leaning back. I knew I had to take a break, when I closed my eyes I could still see the words swirling in the blackness behind my eyelids. I took a deep breath and went to look at the giant map I had covered my desk with. Pins and markers to recount every movement during the last war. 

“Do you really think that it’s going to help?” I know he wasn’t trying to be rude. His voice was soft when he asked and my shoulders sunk in slightly. 

“I don’t know. But if it does…” He nodded in understanding. Azriel knocked lightly on the door, making both Cas and I jump. He had learned to knock now after he had to dodge out of the way of the book I had launched at him last week. I still haven't reaccustomed myself to how quiet his footsteps could be. A skill I had once prided myself on, I had even been able to pick up on those silent footsteps and find him before he wanted to be seen. 

“Just wanted to remind you two to eat.” He looked at the books strewn across the table, taking note of the one Cassian was still flipping through, playing with truly. “I know how you can get when you’re focused. Time for food.” He smiled at the shy look I gave him from being called out. Many times he had to drag me out of my office when I really got into something. His smile made me think he was remembering those times too. 

“If we go, will you two stop making eyes at each other?” Cassian spoke up, making me break away from Azriel’s stare. 

“We were not.” I responded, trying to tame the blush in my cheeks. Get it together. I told myself as I forced myself to turn to Cas. His eye roll was the only answer I got. Azriel had already started walking down the hall and I slapped Cassian on the arm.

“You’re so annoying sometimes Cas.”

“And you love me for it.” He gave me a loud, wet peck on the cheek and gave a full head-thrown-back laugh when I made a big show of wiping it off. 

I didn't return to the other house that night. Opting to stay with my friends. One of whom, Cassian, had gone into the wine cellar and returned with his arms almost full of the expensive bottles. I just laughed as he shot me a wink. I blew him a kiss back as I settled down on the couch besides Mor. 

We didn’t bother getting glasses, passing the bottles around while we talked about absolutely nothing, acting like we had during our teenage years. It was later in the night before Rhys appeared in the living room. He took one look at all of us and rolled his eyes before he swiped the bottle out of my hand and brought it to his lips. 

Mor and I were fully supporting each other's weight on the couch, I couldn’t tell who was leaning against who more but our giggles started to get louder and more frequent. She whispered to me so quietly I had to strain to hear her. “Stop staring at him.” And we fell into another fit of giggles.

She was right though, everytime Azriel talked I could feel how my eyes stayed locked on him. Reminding myself to breathe when he pulled the bottle to his lips. I pushed off of Mor and went to stand up, wobbling slightly as my feet touched the ground. Azriel made a move like he was going to catch me if I took a face first dive on the carpet but when I steadied myself, he moved back. It happened so fast I wonder if I imagined it.

“I think it’s bedtime.” I said, mouth feeling mushy as the words came out. Mor laughed again and I turned to face her and gave her a rude gesture. I offered that same hand to pull her up to her feet and she pouted before taking it. Everyone seemed to get the hint that it was late so all of us in our various drunken states started the climb up the stairs to our rooms. Good nights thrown through the hallways, Cassian all but screaming it to make sure Mor and I heard him. The sound made us flinch before laughing again as I closed the door to my room. 

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

Before I knew it Feyre’s week was officially up. She had demanded to be brought back home and I fought down the biting comments I wanted to make as Rhys agreed. I stepped besides the pair and she looked over to me for a brief second before pretending that neither of us existed. 

“You don’t have to come with me. Rhys spoke into my mind and replied with a shake of my head. I could do this for Feyre. Despite every part of my body screaming at me for bringing her back to the Spring court, if she could be brave then so could I. He sighed at my stubbornness but knew that there was no changing my mind. 

We weren’t going far. Simply dropping her at the border of spring and summer and making sure she got into the manor. I could manage that. Yet as we were getting ready to winnow in, I felt my hands go clammy. I remember me saying I’ll never go back there willingly.

The smell was the first thing that hit me. The overwhelming floral scent. I could smell the roses from the outside of the manor this far away, their sheer number coating the air with a smell that threatened to suffocate me on the spot. 

“Goodbye, Feyre.” She had already started walking before he finished speaking, not sparing so much as a glance back to us. So we stood and watched her retreating figure until those wooden doors closed behind her. That was that. 

We didn’t return to Hewn city, instead winnowing outside the townhome. 

Rhys didn’t stay to greet our friends. Instead, he all but ran up the stairs to either go to his study or his room. Everyone gave me a tentative look before I shrugged and sprawled out on the couch besides Azriel. 

He didn’t try to pull away from me. Instead, he lifted his hands from their spot on his lap. His way of telling me I could place my legs up so I didn’t have to sit awkwardly to avoid his wings. I did and I ignored how happy that little gesture made me. Over the last few weeks he seemed to be able to handle being around me again.

Cassian started rapid firing questions at me. What is she like? She threw what at Rhys? Anything for scraps of what their brother's mate was actually like. Sure they had gotten the story of her trials but this was different, getting to know who she actually was. Cassian seemed pleased to know she was still just as head strong. “Maybe someone will finally humble him a little.” He chuckled 

 Rhys spoke up as he entered the room. “Who’s humbling who?” He picked at an invisible piece of lint on his shoulder. The only sign of how upset sending Feyre back had made him. 

Cassian didn’t answer but instead asked “Did she really throw a shoe at you?” He laughed when Rhys shot me a dirty look. Answering the question for him. “I want to meet her.” Cassian said and I swore he was almost pouting. 

Rhys sighed, “And have you scare her off.” Cassian looked hurt so Rhys added, “Let her get more adjusted to me before we add all of this into the mix. Besides, she cannot see Velaris. Not when…” not when she came back to Tamlin. Not when she could still spill every little secret of ours to one of our biggest enemies. 

Cas looked like he wanted to argue but only said “Princess gets to see her.” 

“Because I have a winning personality.” I smiled at him and he launched one of the small pillows from his chair at me. I managed to deflect it but as it bounced off my arm it hit Azriel square in the face. I bit down my laughter at his faux outraged face. He threw it back and before I knew it, they were yelling at each other, well Cas was yelling and Azriel was trying his hardest not to laugh.Sensing a fight was emanate, I pushed off of Azriel and spoke loudly over the two Illyrian males. 

“Outside if you’re going to fight.” Even Armen, who had stalked into the room around as Rhys laughed at that. 

Cassian turned to me, his temper still flaring. “We’re not dogs.” 

“Last time you both fought in the house, I was cleaning up glass for a week.” I raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him to say otherwise. 

Azriel spared Cassian from having to respond. “C’mon.” He said, pulling Cassian to what I could only assume was the training ring. 

“I forgot how much you look like Rhys when you get bossy.” Cassian said as he was pulled from the room. And my responding gesture made the rest of the room go up in laughs. Rhys followed them out. Probably needing to get rid of his own tension and Armen had snuck back into the research room. 

I didn’t have it in me to just stare at maps all day long, regardless of knowing how much I needed to. So I just stayed in the living room, a random book from the shelf pulled onto my lap. 

Rhys came back first, hair only slightly disheveled, wings out proudly. “Once I get out of the bath, it’s time for your training.” I huffed and he could sense I was about to argue with him. “Cassian and Azriel told me you can’t use your powers.” Traitors. “So we’re going to figure out what the hel is wrong.” 

Less than an hour later I was sitting in Rhys’ study. A small candle flickering in front of me, taunting me to snuff it out. I pulled and pulled for any of the small dark tendrils to do so but found nothing. Sweat was beginning to form on my brow with how hard I was concentrating. 

Rhys huffed in frustration at my lack of progress. “It was easier teaching Feyre to read.” 

“Then by all means, go back to that. I’d love to see her throw another shoe at you.” I bit back at him and he just rolled his eyes. 

“Try again.” He went right back to business, ignoring my statement. I really did try. I Have been trying. That rich darkness that normally lingered under my skin seemed like it was hidden behind a wall. Just out of my grasp, so close I could almost taste it, almost touch it. I yelped as I reached out towards it. Pain flickering through my body as if it had burned me. Rhys’ hand on my shoulder snapped me out of whatever had happened. Sweat broke across my skin and I flinched as I felt my magic fight against the wall inside my head. 

“What’s happening?” I spoke to my brother. He just stared at me before I felt a phantom knock at my mental shields. I forced them open and almost screamed at the pain that flooded through me. I knew the moment he found it. Felt that sickening thread of magic that never released when the spell broke for the other high lords. Rhys’ presence in my head retreated and we could only look at each other. No words to be found between us. 

“Fuck.” The first word he uttered and I somehow found it in myself to laugh. 

“That bad?” 

“Good news is there’s not a physical block. No magic stopping you.” So why did he still look like death froze over? “Bad news, you’re the block.” 

“Go on?” 

“I don’t fully know but it looks like your magic is being tied up by your own magic.” 

“So, you’re saying. I’m the problem?”

“I’ve been saying that your whole life but yes, especially in this case.” He teased, trying to lighten the new tension in the air. I bite 

“Well then that simply means you’re going to be stuck with me a lot more. That or I go to Helion.” He rolled his eyes at the mention of the other high lord, one who has been trying for the last few centuries to get me into his bed. 

“Maybe.” shit. It must be serious if he’s actually willing to let Helion help. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that.” He says solemnly and points back to the candle. I stare at him for a moment before sighing and trying to cover the light again. 

We sit as I try again and again and again. Nothing besides a small puff of black smoke to let us know that I’m even trying. Right as I’m about to say something I see Rhys flinch and his eyes flare with anger. Only not at me, his eyes look far away as that anger homes in on whatever must have made his shoulders tense. 

I see his eyes come back into focus and I don’t even have to ask before he’s spilling. “He hurt her.” I don’t need him to say who. “I can tell it’s nothing serious but I got nothing but pure fear from her.” Rhys had already explained that the bargain amplified the usual effects of the mating bond. That he could sometimes get whiffs of any strong emotion from Feyre. Fear, anger, mostly fear but as her nightmares have started to fade I haven't heard much about it. My stomach curls and I try to will my hands to not shake as my mind drifts to the endless possibilities of what could have happened. 

“It’ll be okay. She’s strong.” The words felt wrong in my mouth and Rhys said the very thing I had been thinking.

“You were strong.” 

“Well you can’t very well march in there and get her.” I saw the look on his face. “You can’t, we can’t. And she still doesn’t want us. Unless it feels like that first time…” He shook his head. So not as bad. Still bad, still awful enough for her to send fear down the bond but not bad enough that Rhys could only hear her screaming for someone to get her out of there. So we both let it go, ignored the thoughts that told every part of us to go help this girl from whatever Tamlin was inflicting. But even I knew that Tamlin’s anger comes from his love. That anger so wrapped in fear that something will happen that he almost wills those incidents into existence. 

We spend hours trying to break whatever block is in my head until I’m grumpy and all but biting his head off at every little comment he makes. He bites right back at me and I know there's no point in this anymore, both of us too on edge to do anything productive. Throwing his hands up in surrender he doesn’t stop me as I storm out of his study. I run head first into Azriel on my way to my room, his hands resting on my arms so I don’t topple over. 

“Training went that well.” He says with a small chuckle. The noise sends a low growl from my throat and he takes his hands off of me. “We’ll figure this out.” He says and I continue my path to my room, not staying long enough to see the concern in his eyes. 

I was still grumpy by the time that dinner rolled around but I managed to pull myself out of bed. My head is pounding from the strain and whatever Rhys did inside my mind. I throw on the first thing I find, still in my thin nightgown I pulled on after my bath, and head down to dinner. I don’t say much and not even Cassian tries to cheer me up, all he does is remind me that I’m joining them for training in the morning. I don’t respond with anything other than stabbing the chicken on my plate with extra force. 

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

I struck the center of the dummy and looked over for Cassian for any semblance of approval. He gave me a bored look and I stomped over to the stupid thing and pulled all three of the daggers out of it. Cas wanted me to get back up to snuff with long range before he put a sword in my hand again. I had never needed the sword that I kept strapped to my back on the missions I would accompany Azriel on, always having my powers to stop anyone from getting that close in the first place. Between Azriel shadows and my blanket of darkness, very rarely did we ever need anything more than truth teller. 

I grunted in frustration as the sharp metal flew through my fingers time after time, all of them hitting the center of the target. 

“Fuck this Cas, I did the warm ups, I did the exercises. Let me fight.” I needed to do something more than this. If I couldn’t use my powers, if they never came back, I needed to be useful. In no world would I just sit around and let my friends risk death while I sat around playing with my maps. Cassian must have heard the desperation in my voice because he agreed. 

We circled each other and I got a rare glimpse of Cassian with no restraint. This was the war general that scared people just by being on the battlefield. I tried not to let the frision of fear show as he surveyed every inch of me, seemingly reading my body language like I was screaming my next moves at him. I didn’t stand a chance. His fist made contact with my nose before I could turn out of the way and I fell to the ground. My hand went up and when I pulled it back, my fingers were sticky with my blood. Cassian was instantly in front of me, mumbling out apologies. I held up my hand to stop him from talking. 

“Cassian.” A stern voice called out as I ran my hand along my nose again, feeling for any breaks. “What did you do to her?” Azriel’s voice was full of concern as he knelt besides Cassian. 

“Alright bat brains. I’m not dying,” I started to stand up and they both reached out their hands to help me up, I swatted them away and brushed off the dust on my pants. “It’s not the first time I’ve been too slow before, and it’s not going to be the last.” They both stared at me and I rolled my eyes. “C’mon. I still have to beat you Cas.” He shook his head laughing and Azriel shot him a glare. 

Cassian, never one to back down from a challenge, and never one to miss an opportunity to piss off Azriel, agreed to go back into the ring with me. He coached me through it this time, slowing down his punches to explain how to predict them and block them. All things that I knew but just needed more practice. By the end of the hour I was covered in sweat but I was able to block him without his guidance. Azriel didn’t leave either, hanging back to watch, adding his own little tips and tricks to help me get some advantage over Cassian but I still couldn’t get him to budge an inch. 

“Do you want to get in with her then?” Cassian shouted to Azriel as he continued to assist me from the side lines. I made a motion for Cassian to stop as I tried to catch my breath. Placing my hands on my knees and sucking in screaming breaths. 

“I think I’m done.” I panted out.

“If you wanted me to make you breathless princess, all you had to do was ask.” He winked and tossed a canteen full of water over to me. I drank half of it in one long gulp and forced myself to stand up straight. My muscles were already crying out in protest. Tomorrow was going to suck for sure. 

The three of us walked back up to the house, laughing and joking and I felt proud of the progress I was making. Even if the dried blood still on my hands might have suggested otherwise. 

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

A month went by so fast, I had to tick off the days to make sure I was right.I woke up to Rhys preparing to collect Feyre from the spring court again. Rhys didn’t ask me to go with him this time, after that last flood of emotions he knew he would have a hard time containing himself let alone both of us. 

I was already waiting at the house for when they got back, ready to play mediator if need be. They had barely materialized before my brother was fussing over Feyre. The two bickered back and forth but from the way she looked over herself, I knew even she could hear the worry in his voice. She had lost more weight since the last time she had been here. The shadows under her eyes creeped back onto her pale skin. “Eat breakfast with me.” He said and I shifted from my place in the living room. Mor was somewhere in the house after her visit to the Court of Nightmares yesterday. Probably still decompressing with the bottle of wine she took with her to bed. 

I gave Feyre a small smile and she didn’t return it, but she didn’t glare at me either. It’s a step at least. The female in front of me gave a heavy sigh after weighing Rhys offer. The growl I heard come from her stomach seemed to make the decision for her. I didn’t follow them, if she had wanted me to I would have been able to tell. So I stayed close enough that I could swoop in and save her from my brother's overprotectiveness if need be. The glimpses of their conversation I caught weren’t the best but I stilled completely as I caught, 

“I was tortured, beaten and fucked until only I could tell myself who I was, what I was protecting. Please- help me keep that from happening again. To Prythian.” My heart ached at the words. He had had it so much worse than I did, regardless of what people might believe. I could see it on his face during some of his bad days, the scars of what Amarantha did to him. I didn’t listen to her response as I walked to my room. 

I found Feyre the next day as I had the last time, hunched over the table with more lines from Rhys to read. She was copying them in better handwriting than she had before. When I approached she didn’t so much as look up at me. I called her name gently and still nothing. So I took that as my sign to let her be. Rhys had gotten called to the war camps later that day. 

“Just look after her please. I know she’s fine but let me know if either of you need anything.” He blabbered as I all but pushed him out the door. 

“We’ll be fine, you overprotective mother hen.” His face fell slightly and I couldn’t stand that look on his face. “I’ll let you know if she needs anything, okay? Now go be a High Lord.” I saw a hint of a smile as he winnowed out of the house. 

I tried to stay out of her way. Whatever bit of goodwill she had allowed me last time seemingly disappeared. So I kept bringing her books when she ran out of the ones Rhys had given her, brought her food and left her to her own devices. Today, she didn’t give me a glare as I sat down in the armchair on her left. I opened my own book without giving her a second glance. The small hmph she made was the only indication she had even noticed my presence. She didn’t want to talk and quite frankly, neither did I, perfectly content with getting lost in our own books. 

It was around midday and the sun was just starting to peek through the heavy curtains of the library when I felt Rhys appear in the room. In his hands were trays of food which he presented to Feyre. A small thank you left her lips and I wanted to smack that smug look on Rhys face as he teased her. But then I saw his face get serious and I suddenly felt very much like I was intruding on a private moment. “Tell me how I can help you.” His voice was scratchy and I knew he was trying to hold back tears, to keep the conversation casual enough that she wouldn’t shut him out again. I truly did try to tune them out but these were the same things I had been wanting to say to her all week but couldn’t find the strength. 

“If you fall apart then the bitch wins. All of that is for nothing and she wins.” Rhys said plainly and Feyre flinched before going back to her book. I could tell that she was talking to him in her mind. My eyes grew wide when I saw that slight layer of frost cover the book cover. Rhys barely had time to dodge said book as it was thrown right at his head. It bounced harmlessly to the floor and I stifled a laugh. The laugh died in my throat when I saw the flicker of flames in her palms and I tried to reach my mind out to Rhys, he all but threw me out. 

Feyre and Rhys left later that day. I didn’t offer to come with, didn’t want to come with. Just like last time when Rhys returned to Velaris, he stalked to his office and hid out for the rest of the evening. I only got close enough to the door to leave a plate of food outside before retreating back to my side of the house. His emotions pouring through the door were enough to give me a headache, the way it felt like I was walking into a brick wall. I didn’t try to talk to him for the rest of the day. Instead choosing to pull my attention back to the map in my study. 

I had been neglecting it to focus on Feyre and Rhys but I knew it’s just because I wasn’t getting anywhere. No matter how many books I read, I couldn’t think of anything that would help us win this war. Not without all seven courts working together and I knew Hel would freeze over before that ever happened. 

So I read until my eyes became blurry and heavy. My head had gotten so heavy like the words were getting stuck and wouldn’t leave. When I felt my eyes starting to close and knocking on the door jostled me awake. I saw the shadows before I saw him, too tired to notice that they had time to take in my current state and report back to Az. 

“You should take a break.” He said as he went to pull up a chair at the table I was sitting at. 

“I can’t take a break when I haven’t found anything yet.” I whined at him. “I’m supposed to be good at this, I am good at this. Or at least I was.” I slumped in my chair and I saw that familiar look of concern flash through his warm amber eyes. He sat there, I could almost see the gears in his brain turning, his shadows starting to swirl around the floor like soothing waves. I stared at them and felt my mind calm slightly. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, wings flapping behind him. 

We just sat there in silence for a few moments and then he stood up suddenly. My eyes tracked the movement, following his arm as he extended a hand to me. It was like my brain short circuited at the gesture. He had to clear his throat before I snapped out of it and I timidly placed my hand in his. He led me out of my office and I felt his shadows on my heels. “Where are we going?” I laughed at how ridiculous this must look, one of the fiercest Illyrian warriors towing someone behind him like an excited kid. 

“Just be quiet. You’ll know when we get there.” His own voice full of an almost giddy excitement. So I let him pull me along. All the way outside until it clicked. There was a little patch of grass beside the Sidra that I loved to sit by when the weather was just starting to turn warm. Our little group used to spend free days out on that field, just soaking in the warmth. He gave me a proud smirk when we finally reached that stretch of grass. “Now, you’re going to sit and just enjoy being out here.”

“Is that an order?” I teased and he didn’t miss a beat. 

“If that means you’ll actually do it, then yes.” I sat and looked out over the river. The lights and sounds of the city walk could just trickle in, becoming a lovely hum in the back of my mind. I patted the spot next to me and Azriel sat beside me. I curled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on top of them. Just looking at the city I loved so much. We didn’t talk, Azriel was always good for that. He knew when I needed the quiet. The sound of the small waves helped clear my head and after a while I felt my shoulders sink down, the tension lightening. It was still there of course but became more manageable as I could smell the water and Azriel’s pine and fresh air scent. It wrapped its way around me and held me like my favorite blanket. 

“Thank you.” I said, breaking the comfortable silence. We didn’t look at each other, still staring out at the city just ahead. 

“Of course. Anything for you,” He cleared his throat, “For one of my friends.” I bit down the string at that little word. I fought the urge to put some distance between us at the feeling that flooded me. The cruel reminder of just exactly how he saw me. So I just pulled my legs in tighter and ignored all the thoughts of him that began to take over. 

We didn’t head back to the house until sundown. The pair of us walked under the flickering faelights that lined the streets. It still blows my mind how much the city changed while I was gone. I told him that much. And he shrugged off the tiny complement. 

“Rhys and I will never be able to thank you enough for how much you all did while we were…gone.” My voice felt tight as I finished, “You kept our home safe when we couldn’t.” He turned to look at me and went to say something but stopped himself. His face looked slightly pained, in that concerned way he always managed. He shook his head slightly. 

“You did more than we ever could. You and Rhys gave us a chance to have something to protect in the first place.” In his words, I was pulled back to that night when it had all gone to shit. How Cassian and Azriel were out dealing with the camps and how I couldn’t convince Rhys not to go so I insisted that I come along. I had to beg him to let me come with him and he still wasn’t happy about it. We walked right into a trap and before most of his power had been ripped away from him he wiped the memory of Velaris from everyone who was under the mountain and let our friends know what was happening, how they couldn’t come after us without leaving Velaris unguarded. 

Azriel’s small nudge to my shoulder pulled me back to the present and his eyes asked the question before he needed to. 

“I’m okay.” But I felt how my arms had wrapped around myself but he didn’t say anything about it, letting me have my space. We reached the house again and I could hear Cassian and Mor’s voices floating down the hallway. The sound alone plastered a smile on my face. Azriel followed behind me as I rounded the corner and Cassian all but cheered when he saw me. “There you are princess, we went to pull you out of your study but it seems someone beat us to it.” He gave me a small wink and I laughed at the joke behind it. I shook my head as I sat down next to Mor who was already pouring me a glass of wine. 

Rhys spoke to me across the table, “I peaked in and saw the map, tomorrow if you’re up for it I want all of us to go over it.” I nodded and he smiled at me. And we all ate and joked and I left the love I felt for the people in the room washed over me like the waves in the Sidra. 

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

“So if it comes down to war. Who do we have?” Rhys turned to Cassian and myself. We were all sitting around the map I had been working on, face grim as I explained the various markings. 

“The Illyrians don’t have a choice. The court of nightmares should. We kept up pretty well with Dawn and Day. Winter…” His voice trailed off. I still remember Kallias’ face as the news broke of the attack on Winter. The thousands of babes dead by Amarantha’s hand. The pure loathing his face held as he looked at Rhys. 

“I can talk to them.” I had always liked Kallias. And from the little bit I’ve heard since our return home, he finally married Viviane after being friends since childhood. Viviane was sweet and her, Mor and I had been known to get ourselves in trouble when together. If she would listen, Winter would come around. 

“Autumn and Spring are lost causes.” Cassian sighed beside me, slumping down in his chair. 

“Tamlin is delusional enough to think it would keep him safe.” And keep Feyre safe. But I didn’t say that outloud. “Beron is…well Beron. Unless we think we can pursue one of the brothers to take him out of the equation, I think it’s better to not plan for them.” 

“Summer?” Rhys asked pointedly ignoring Cas’ words on the other seasonal courts. 

“Tarquin is new and young. He’ll side with the majority. But I think I could talk to him and at least see where his loyalties lie.” I had only talked to the new high lord a few times during our time under the mountain. He seemed nice enough, one of the few people who was even willing to talk to me at all. No fear of the role I had been forced into and hoped he would side with us. Hoped his newness wouldn’t scare him into the easy choice.” 

“I don’t like the idea of having two courts fighting against us.” Azriel finally spoke up. I had almost forgotten he was in the room but his shadow currently sitting at my feet should have been reminder enough. “Hybern has the armies he needs and if he has the cauldron….” 

“So what do you suggest?” My brother asked, head in his hands. 

“We talk to them. Let them know that we won’t win this if we’re not unified. Remind them that we fought a war once to avoid this very thing and some courts were on the wrong side of history then and would be now.” I spoke plainly, it was the only answer. If it had been anyone else the idea would have been shot down. But Rhys just let out a heavy breath and nodded. 

“We’ll wait until we’re sure. Some courts will refuse to believe there will be a war until it’s staring them in the face.” The tone in Rhys’ voice letting us know this meeting was over. We all stayed in the room, the same exhausted look sat on our faces. “Good work.” Rhys said to me as he studied the map again. “You got all of this from books?” I had been too young to remember most of the war, let alone fight in it. But at least someone had thought it smart to recount all of it in very exact detail, I just managed to translate to current day Prythian. Rhys was silently nodding to himself as he really studied the map. The others slowly filter out of the room, leaving Rhys and I alone studying the map. 

“And these?” He pointed to the orange marks I had drawn all over. 

“Trade agreement routes, the thicker the line, the more movement there is through that path. They would be the most vulnerable areas since people know them so well. They’re also normally the quickest way between courts.” I pointed out more of the lines and pins. I had so much marked off, down to what ways the rivers flowed and where their currents changed. Rhys just drank in all the information I threw at him, only nodding along to the explanations. I was about to start on another part of the map before I saw his face freeze. 

Rhys had completely stilled besides me. That all-too-familiar far-away look on his. When I raised my eyebrow at him, “What is it? Is it…” He didn’t wait for me to finish, instead he let me into his mind and I almost flinched at whatever feeling Feyre was sending him. The crushing agony and pure terror. It was a feeling I knew all too well. These weren't the few stray glimpses Feyre had sent him while they were separated. This was the very thing all of us were holding our breath for, hoping it never happened. 

“Rhys we can’t just ignore it this time.” I spoke, already leaving the table. His hand wrapped around my wrist, making me pause. 

“If you storm in there, Tamlin has every right to declare a war.” 

“And we’ll have every right to kill his sorry ass. Something that we could have done decades ago.” I spit back at my brother. 

“Please.” His voice shook with fear. Scared for Feyre and maybe for me. I put my hands up in surrender. I couldn’t argue against the tone in his voice. 

“So how do you want to do this then?” I asked him and we started planning. 

In less than 10 minutes Mor had winnowed right on the border of spring and summer. Rhys had insisted that she come along to help. Her status would help blanket us from any repercussions. Plus her powers would come in handy if any of the guards found us. So her and I snuck into that manor I had sworn I would never see again. Do it for Feyre. Be brave for her. I said to myself as my own terror rose to a fever pitch. 

I could see the darkness already pouring out of the house. My anger quickly turned into fear. What did he do to her? The voice in my head screamed. Rhys had already broken the wards and whatever was locking her inside the house. Mor knocked out the guards before they could spot us. When we finally entered the house my blood ran cold. Sitting in a ball of inky darkness was Feyre. Her screams pierced something deep inside of me. I looked around and locked eyes with Alis. Her eyes wide as she took in my face. 

“He locked her in the house. I tried to…Please just keep her safe.” Was all the older fae had said to me. 

My heart warmed at the concern in her voice. The same concern she had once shown me. I nodded and walked towards Feyre. Whatever darkness she was wielding seemed to only be for her and as I shook her shoulder, gently saying her name they retreated slightly. I looked over to Mor who only gave me a small nod. Taking her cue, I picked up the shaking female and was startled by how light she felt. Mor spoke up from beside me. “Your guards are going to have a hell of a headache when they wake up.” 

Alis nodded in understanding and I added. “Don’t tell him where we took her. Please.” And for a second I felt just as broken as the female in my arms. I knew she would tell him, and would have to tell him but a small part of me wished she wouldn’t. But that was unfair to expect of her. It reminded me too much of the same hope I had when I left. Face sunken in and heart broken as I begged her to not tell Tamlin I was leaving. No one was there to help me and I’ll be damned if Feyre ever felt that pain. I didn’t say another word as Mor winnowed us right in front of the border. It felt like I could finally breathe again as the scent shifted to ripe fruit and salt water that marked us as safe. Marked us in summer. Feyre shifted in my arms and mumbled something softly. 

Mor soothed a hand through her hair. “You’re free.” 

Rhys quickly scoped Feyre from my arms without so much as a word. He looked at Mor and I 

“We did everything by the book.” Rhys nodded before I felt the air whoosh around my ears and I knew we had made it home. Rhys deftly climbed the stairs to take Feyre to her room and I just stood staring at my brother back. I blocked out the memories that began to rise to the surface. The scar on my arm prickled and when my other hand raised to scratch at the angry white lines that trailed down my forearm, Mors hand wrapped against mine. Grounding me in the present. 

“She’s free.” She repeated to me. 

“Thank the mother.” I responded as I started to climb the stairs suddenly bone tired. 

Feyre didn’t emerge from her room that night or the next morning. More than once I found myself standing outside her door, hand held up to knock but some part of my brain told me not to. Rhys hasn't left her side the whole time she was asleep. Whatever magic she had used in the house had exhausted her and I felt my heart pang for her. How alone she must have felt, how scared she must have been to be locked in that house. I remember my simple panic the first time I went to the basement of the townhouse. How it transported me back to under the mountain, I couldn’t imagine how it felt to be locked away again.  

When I finally did see her, she seemed to have gotten a little color back. Enough so that she was able to argue with Rhys again. I didn’t linger this time to hear the fight, letting them duke it out in private. But as Rhys turned the corner, I knew something that happened. Something important. 

”We’re going home.” 

If someone had told me two months ago that Feyre would be standing in the living room of our home in Velaris I would have probably keeled over laughing. But here we were, Feyre’s eyes flickering from spot to spot in the house. I couldn’t get a read on her face but before I could even process that, I heard a pounding on the door. Cassian’s voice filtering through the wood, already complaining. Rhys shot me a look that said deal with them please. He tried to hide it but I could tell he was waiting for Feyre’s reaction to her surroundings. A hint of anything to gauge how she was feeling. He needed her to like this place like he needed to breathe. So I excused myself from the room and slipped out the front door. 

”Are you serious Cas?”

”I want to meet her. She’s right there, my brothers m-” I cut him off, blocking both him and Azriel from trying to peek into the house. They could easily push right past me but stayed a healthy distance. 

”Do not finish that sentence. Do you want all of Velaris to know?” I whispered screamed at him and he rolled his eyes.

”I promise you drama queen, no one’s up this early. I don’t want to be up this early.” 

After a few minutes of us bickering back and forth, Rhys opened the door and said to us, “Are you all just going to stand there?” 

Cassian all but trampled me trying to get in the house. I laughed when I saw his crestfallen face as he noticed Feyre was no longer in the room. “She was here right?” He spoke to the room. 

”Maybe she’s scared of your good looks Cas, can’t have her falling in love with the wrong Illyrian bastard now can we?” I shot Rhys a wink and he growled lightly. 

”She’ll meet you when she’s ready.” Was all he said before he rangled all of us into the dining room. 

Feyre slept for the rest of the morning. She came down the stairs dressed in Night Court clothes and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The way they seemed to compliment her well enough and I had to bite my tongue to prevent me from pointing that out. Rhys met her at the door and shot me a vulgar gesture at my sugary sweet, “Be safe kids.” That I called out from my spot on the couch. I sat on the couch until the sun started to set. I had just got to the good part and debated even going to the dinner at all but I was dying to see how Feyre would handle our crazy family. If she had any chance at surviving here, she needed to like them or they would drive her crazy. Although from Cassian’s earlier words that might be the case either way. So I groaned and pulled myself off the couch, pulling on the first thing that I saw and winnowed with Mor to the front steps of the house. 

Azriel and Cassian were waiting to fly us up. Cassian wrapped his arm around Mor’s waist and Azriel did the same to me. I hardly felt my feet leave the ground before he was already placing me down in front of the door. I had not had the heart to come here since I’ve been home. Too many memories for me to want to come alone and Mor grabbed my hand as she pulled me through the threshold. We had just settled in before I heard the faint trails of Rhys and Feyre voices outside the door. I couldn’t stop the two males from bounding to the door, they flung it open to reveal a very annoyed looking Rhys. I held my breath as she stood in the doorway, eyes searching for something and she landed on me. She squared her shoulders but Cassian was already speaking.

”I promise we won't bite.” 

Last I heard, Cassian, no one has taken you up on that offer.” And I laughed as Feyre’s face blanched. I didn’t miss the way the female's eyes raked over the Illyrians as they stepped into the light. I tried not the bristle as her eyes lingered on Azriel just a fraction longer than I would have liked. Rhys introduced the two and it was Feyres response to one of his questions that made me feel a frision of pride. 

”How the hell did you manage to survive this long without anyone killing you?” She would fit right in and Cassian’s booming laugh told me that very same thing. Armen had appeared almost out of thin air as we all made our way to the table. 

Feyre was slowly filled in about how the three brothers had met. Her eyes flickered to me during the story. 

”Where do you fit into all of this, besides being his sister.” She quickly added. Everyone seemed to be waiting for me to answer. 

”I mean there's not much else to it besides that. He got stuck with them so I did too. I nearly knocked Cassian's teeth in the first time I met him and I’ve been stuck with them ever since.” I stuck my tongue out at Cassian who rolled his eyes. 

”You mean you broke your fist trying to, princess. I had to nurse you back to health and you were helpless but to fall for my charm.” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes and I fought the urge to throw my bread across the table at him. If it wasn't for Feyre I would have. The rest of the stories and tales flowed out and, much to Feyre’s credit, she didn’t falter in the slightest. She interjected at the perfect moments, making jokes that had everyone roaring with laughter. Then the tables were turned onto her and Cassian was asking her about her life. After she had finished she turned to Rhys.

’I accept your offer- to work with you.” And I wanted to scream and cheer. I felt no such joy from Rhys as he started.

”Good because we start tomorrow. Hybern is starting this war and he’s going to bring back Jurian to help him.” I felt a shiver run down my back. Rhys had neglected to tell me that part. In an instant the lighthearted conversation was thrown to the side and Cassian launched into full general mode.

 I tried my best to keep up with this new bit of information, how it would throw a wrench into any attempts of a plan. I missed the conversation that followed, mind already trying to figure out the adjustments I would need to make to the map in my office. Armen managed to snap me out of my thinking. 

”The Bone Carver might indeed be willing to talk to her.” She pointed a finger at Feyre and I went to argue against the ancient female. Rhy had beaten me to it. 

”Your choice, always your choice, Feyre.” and I tried to keep the fear off my face as she answered. 

”How bad could it be.” Cassians’ answer had her face pale as a ghost and it was clear dinner was over at that moment. The others reduced to arguing over the semantics and who would be doing what in preparation for their journey to the prison. My eyes suddenly felt very heavy at the sounds of their voices. Azriel’s gentle hand on my shoulder was the sign that the arguing had stopped at all. I didn’t need to be asked a second time and as he flew me back down to the ground below Velaris, I wondered if all of us would make it through the war a second time.

Next Chapter: Here

Taglist: @durgenyx @tothestarsandwhateverend @quinzzelx

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Religious trauma in Good Omens: Aziraphale's case

We talk about religious trauma and the state of constant psychological abuse and manipulation experienced by those who suffer it, using Aziraphale as an example.

DISCLAIMER

This post is about painful experiences and the different ways you can react to them. This may affect you in particular and be difficult or stressful to deal with.

Here I intend to speak to you about the trauma of Aziraphale. I use the singular not because it is a single event, but because it is a very specific type of trauma to which ours has been subjected continuously since the beginning of time: religious trauma.

WHAT IS RELIGIOUS TRAUMA

Religious trauma is a complex type of trauma that usually has its greatest impact during the period of development: a person grows up in a social context that is regulated according to the dictates of any sect, which greatly influences the way they approach reality and, above all, themselves.

Often, this trauma begins to affect the existence of the victim even before they begin to speak and thus have the capacity to articulate the memories associated with it. It is not necessarily this trauma that is marked by significant events: very often it is its impact on everyday life that literally conditions the people who experience it, placing them on a well-trodden path of conventions and moral imperatives from which they must not deviate.

We are all (obviously, given the fandom) familiar with the concept of original sin. When a person is brought up with the view that we are all born sinners because we have literally inherited that sin and must spend our lives making amends for what is in our nature, several things happen:

_we live with a constant sense of shame and fear of not making it, of not being enough; _we blindly trust those who raise us and show us the way, and we may not want to see the inherent hypocrisies and contradictions because that would bring us into conflict with reality; _as a result, we have an incredible fear of authority and will tend to respect hierarchies even when they do not make much sense to us, and also try not to question what we are told; _we want at all costs to be 'part of the herd' and conform to the group, so we will suppress anything that we feel is different and might cause us trouble.

Now let's consider that, growing up in such a context, we become aware that something is not quite right for us. It could be anything from realising that we have sexual urges, to being attracted to someone of the same sex, to feeling uncomfortable in our own bodies, and so on.

In response to all of this, we experience feelings of shame, self-loathing and a desire to repress that which takes us away from what is the right way to be.

All these things are cruelly represented in our beloved angel Aziraphale.

AZIRAPHALE'S TRAUMA

It is really difficult to talk about Aziraphale's pain, although it is probably the most obvious and easiest to explain in the series. Because it is tangible, it is realistic, many of us experience it all the time and can relate to it.

Aziraphale has won us over with his almost childlike tenderness and joy, with his tenderness for the little things, with his tendency to take to heart the well-being and happiness of every human being in front of him. He is pure, genuine, sensitive and always on the side of good. But behind his façade of a happy and enthusiastic little creature, there is a frightened, abused, insecure child full of shame and self-reproach. This will always condition his actions and will lead him to the painful and, as we shall see, inevitable epilogue in which he rejects Crowley's love to follow Metatron to Paradise.

TO DO WHAT IS RIGHT OR TO DO WHAT I MUST?

We immediately see how Aziraphale lives in a state of perpetual contradiction due to his strong sense of morality: in the series, the first thing we see of him is the moment when he gives Adam and Eve the flaming sword he received as guardian of the Eastern Gate, so that they would not be completely helpless in their escape from the Garden of Eden.

As well as entertaining Crowley (and winning his immediate admiration), the episode shows us from the outset that Aziraphale has a moral compass that always points in a very precise direction: the good of others. This will often lead him in the series to act on impulse, only to have to face the consequences of constituted authority, and create in him an everlasting sense of remorse: almost immediately he is asked by God himself to account for the sword, the very sword that was in danger of becoming an instrument of destruction in the hands of one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse - except that it was then the key to preventing it.

Unable to fight his nature, Aziraphale finds himself repeating the same actions over and over again: in the miniseries about the life of Job, his tenacity to save innocent creatures at all costs leads him to confront Crowley head-on, discovering his plan to circumvent the orders he was given and not kill anyone. But the web of lies he and the demon have woven tightens around him as Gabriel, Michael and the other angels descend to give Job the good news that he will be able to have more children in exchange for those who have been killed.

Aziraphale is thus forced to make a choice: tell the truth, exposing Crowley's deception and leading to the presumed murder of Job's children, or lie, saving everyone but tarnishing himself with what he sees as an unforgivable guilt. Our angel, as we know, chooses to lie. This causes him tremendous pain and leads him to believe that his fate is sealed and that he must fall. Despite having made the right choice.

Fortunately, as we know, none of this happens. But the fear of doing the wrong thing is always with him.

NATURAL ENEMIES

Aziraphale never makes it a secret that he despises Crowley's demonic nature. Never.

It is painful to compare the admiring look he gives him in S2E1 when he meets him in his angelic version, intent on starting the nebula he has been working on since the beginning of time, with the veiled look of shock (not to say a little disgust) he gives him in S1E1 when they meet again as an angel and a demon, on the walls of the Garden of Eden.

However, as soon as it starts to rain and Crowley gets close to him, Aziraphale immediately takes him under his wing. Aziraphale is an angel, and as such he loves no matter what. It is his peculiar and almost poisonous trait that leads him to help and to forgive even those who have wronged him.

Aziraphale believes that Crowley should be forgiven and loved, but he cannot accept that he has feelings of love for him. This leads him to reflexively despise himself for what he feels, and to push Crowley away whenever he gets too close: think of the argument under the gazebo, or when, confronted with Crowley's suggestion that he take him for a ride after giving him the thermos of holy water, he tells him that he "runs too fast".

It is already obvious to us viewers, and to Aziraphale himself, that he has feelings for Crowley that go far beyond camaraderie, but he cannot let go of them: the fear of retribution and the contempt he feels for anything that is not angelic leads him once again to flounder in contradictions and adopt that yo-yo attitude that characterises all his interactions with Crowley.

THE FINAL TEMPTATION

Crowley is a demon sui generis: he is not really evil and does not mind harming others. In fact, if he can, he actively avoids doing so. However, he does enjoy temptation, and one of his favourite targets is our beloved angel. Still during the miniseries on the life of Job, we see Crowley's first successful temptation of Aziraphale: while the two are patiently waiting for the storm to pass in the cellar of the mansion, Crowley offers him a drink, but Aziraphale refuses, not wanting to succumb to the intoxication of the wine.

Crowley then suggests that he try some human food. The angel is initially disgusted, but makes no objection, and is so impressed by what he tastes that he devours the entire roast beef on the table. Crowley is delighted, and this gag of temptation for an invitation to dinner is repeated throughout the series. Whether the invitation comes from him or from Crowley, each time Aziraphale eats contentedly and our demon watches him eat with satisfaction.

Crowley can therefore be said to be initiating Aziraphale into the pleasures of the flesh, which he will indulge in to the fullest. Aziraphale is a hedonist who loves refined and special things: from antique books to bespoke clothing, passing records, tea and sushi. He loves the objects he surrounds himself with and treats them with care: remember the white gloves he wears before leafing through the only existing copy of Agnes Nutter's Prophecies!

Aziraphale delights in touching his surroundings, and we have already talked about how his predominant love language is physical contact. As much as he can control himself, he touches our demon every time he gets his hands on him. He cannot help it. He desires it, and while Aziraphale has not realised this for the better part of 6,000 years on Earth, in the last century he has come to acknowledge it openly.

This leads Aziraphale to experience another contradiction: he wants to have more physical contact with Crowley, but he cannot. Crowley is a demon, he is the enemy, he is everything he abhors, but the angel he was is always there, alive, before his eyes, and it is out of love for that angel that Aziraphale accepts Metatron's proposal, faced with the prospect of being able to take Crowley back to Paradise with him. So they could be together, in the sunlight, with the approval of God and all, in an angelic way.

But Crowley unexpectedly, desperately, refuses.

Our angel feels betrayed, but has no choice but to accept Crowley's will.

Here is the irreparable, the ultimate temptation our demon could offer: a kiss, a last desperate cry for love, a plea for help, a series of meanings too great to be expressed in words. Crowley grabs Aziraphale by the lapels and for a few very long seconds their lips meet.

Aziraphale has never experienced anything like this before (probably not even Crowley) and feelings stir inside him that he has never even been able to name. Feelings that frighten him, feelings that bring back his contempt for himself and his being far from angelic nature. Aziraphale desires Crowley, discovers that he wants to be kissed by a demon (as the writers of the show themselves have revealed to us), and all of this clashes with everything he has ever been. He has just witnessed the contempt of angels and demons for the love of Beelzebub and Gabriel, he has just risked extinction for helping the fugitive Archangel, and yet Crowley tempts him with a sweet and terrible kiss.

But Aziraphale is an angel, and as such he loves and forgives.

So he forgives Crowley.

But Crowley, by definition, is unforgivable: disappointed and embittered by his beloved's rejection, he leaves.

Aziraphale does not really want to go to Paradise, but his desire to be part of the herd, his need to be loved and accepted by his faction, drives him to go, to do what is right, what is expected of him as an angel.

As he gets into the lift and asks Metatron what his task will be, he discovers that he will have to deal with the very thing he had already averted in the past: the Second Coming, the Last Judgement. He realises his mistake, realises that he is trapped, and once again wonders if he should do what is right or what he must do.

This time, however, it wins what he must: after one last look at Crowley, watching from afar, Aziraphale climbs into the lift with Metatron that will take him to Paradise. His trauma is so deep and ingrained that it has removed any prospect of being worthy of love except in the light of divine approval.

Although leaving everything he loves - Crowley, Earth, the Library - causes him enormous pain, Aziraphale must return to Paradise and fulfil his destiny.

More infos at Religious trauma syndrome - Wikipedia

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[doodler16]

I know expecting media literacy from people like you is useless, but just some comments on the "Angel / sexual harrassment" post.

1- you know that not *every* position/opinion that a character says should be taken 100% as truth, but analyzed and understood, right? Yeah, I guess you don't know, but let me just explain: Vaggie said Angel was "sexually harrassing" the staff, ah yes, well, wait, what staff? There was no fucking staff at the Hotel. Angel is a hypersexual survivor, and also a sex worker that needs to find clients. Vaggie was raised in a puritist cult, so obviously she still has internalized puritanism that she needs to work on. She interpretated Angel's coping mechanism and sexuality as harrassment, even though it is very questionable if it was or not.

2- Husk was annoyed at Angel. Not afraid, not victimized, not ashamed. He was annoyed. He pushed Angel back, called him out on his bullshit, and guess what? Angel stopped his behaviour. Because he is a well meaning person, also worthy of love and forgiveness. Wowwww, explaining the OBVIOUS for an anti! Yay!

3- the person that originally made the post defending Angel, *WAS VICTIM OF ACTUAL SEXUAL HARRASSMENT FROM REAL LIFE PREDATORS* (aka NOTHING LIKE ANGEL). But oh my god, my bad, I forgot that antis don't give a single FUCK about real life victims, they just care about the poor Ex Overlord who was *not*, in any circunstamce, victimized by Angel (who is, in fact, a victim of multiple abuse and harrassment), and is in fact the person that needs to change since Angel already improved, but Husk is still judgemental and even hypocritical. (Which doesnt meah he hasnt changed or that he isnt worthy of love/forgiveness, it's the opposite actually).

I will, again, pretend that you only make ass takes because of your lack of media literacy and empathy towards real life survivors that love the show, rather than other worse reasons.

1. Yeah, you are totally correct. There are times when a character is an unreliable narrator or speaker but in this case Vaggie is 100% correct regarding the sexual harassment comment. Actually, there is staff at the hotel. Even the Hazbin hotel pilot addresses it. Alastor asked Charlie where is her staff which only had Vaggie, prompting Alastor to summon Husk and Niffty. Husk serving the drinks aka bartending while Niffty cleans the hotel. Alastor also chimes in to help Charlie as well, becoming part of the staff too.

So when Vaggie calls out Angel Dust for sexual harassing the staff, she refers to Husk/Alastor but mainly Husk. Vaggie also tells Angel Dust to stop bothering Husk and let him do his job. Angel Dust can easily find clients outside of the hotel. What’s your point regarding Angel Dust being hypersexual, we all know that but that doesn’t excuse his actions and what did to Husk.

2. Husk wasn’t just annoyed, he was uncomfortable too like any normal person would be. Throughout the 4 episodes Angel Dust consistently would invade Husk’s space, touching him without his permission like his face and wings, making obnoxious sex jokes around him, saying and implying crude gestures and behaviors like how Angel Dust can make those wings of his flap or how the two can look together under the covers or under his bed.

Yes, I already know that Angel Dust stopped after Husk and him have a heart to heart movement, immediately becoming open and chill to the others. Good for him I guess. That’s why in my post I said the first 4 episodes. Aww, thanks Anon for condescendingly explaining this to me like I am a 2 year old! I really appreciate.

3. Yes, I know that user was defending Angel Dust, that is part of the reason I found the post interesting, along with them labeling Angel Dust’s actions as “aggressive flirting.” While, I am on the topic of aggressive flirting, I do wonder when does aggressively flirting cross the line? When does it stop being aggressively flirting? Would people still see it as “aggressively flirting” if Husk was a woman and Angel Dust was a straight male? Would anyone see this as “aggressively flirting” if the roles switched being Angel dust on the receiving end, while Valentino does the same actions as Angel Dust in the prime series.

The comment you made about antis not caring about irl victims is so gross as this the same show that picks and chooses which character we should feel bad for sexual harassment or rape, while the character gets treated as a joke getting put through similar treatment as character A. And there tons of people in the Hazbin anti/critical community who call out Husk for being hypocritical in episode 6 and still call him till this day.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Okay here we go

Does Stanfraud's eye still bleeds, like when Bill was possessing Ford or doesn't because of his bigger connection to Ford's body?

Is Stanfraud an uncle/big brother figure to Soos, like Stanley is his dad figure? Does Bill even care about him even a little😢

I know that the main focus of this au is on Bill, but since Stanley didn't try to pretend to be Ford, how did Stanley's and Filbrick's first meeting went after the whole "getting kicked out" thing"? Especially since both Stan and Ford were definitely broke at the time

You mentioned that Bill still has access to a little portion of his powers, what are they exactly?

Anyway your au is genuinely awesome and seeing it on my dash is always a huge treat 💛💛💛

Okay the first question I really want to answer because I’ve been thinking about this:

— His eye definitely bleeds on occasion. Even though he is far more connected to Ford’s body here, he’s still a demon possessing a host. He shouldn’t be there. There’s some outer force keeping him trapped. So I have thought about the fact there would probably be some lasting impacts on the body due to possession exposure for so long, such as the eye bleeding becoming a regular problem and gradual loss of vision in that eye. There may also be other physical impacts, but I’ll work on those when I manage to get down an official design for him.

— Great News! He is like Soos’ weird uncle! That may be where he learned to be somewhat decent around kids, honestly. He absolutely tried to mess with him at first, make jabs, tell him the date of his death, attempt to drive him to madness just a little (this is why Stan had to get rid of the last handyman), but Soos proved to be incorruptible and took all of Stanfraud’s weirdness in stride. Bill does end up caring about him. He goes as far as to liking their conversations. Soos keeps up with his chaos! Even Bill isn’t sure what’s going on in that head of his (when he gets his own body back he’s going to find out).

— Though Bill is the main focus of the plot-change, the other aspects are equally as important and so I’m glad they also have people’s interest! Their first meeting is… tense, to say the least. If Filbrick has any regrets, which I think I’ll leave up to interpretation, he’s far too stubborn a man to show them, and would rather dig himself further into a hole than admit he made a mistake. Stan desperately just wants to ignore all the scathing comments and get this little reunion over with, until Filbrick makes a comment about Ford, then Stan snaps. You can insult him, he probably deserves it, but not his brother. Sure, they may not be his brother right now, but the intent is there, and that’s what counts.

It cuts everything short, with Stan grabbing Fraud and telling him they’re leaving (He doesn’t complain).

With Filbrick, I do kind of want to explore their dynamic over the years while he’s still alive, especially with Stan, but also with how he’d treat ‘Ford’ and his odder behaviour. I don’t want to just make Filbrick a one-dimensional character though, as I think there’s a lot to be said about the cycle of abuse and parental projection so. While the AU may be based around the question ‘what if Bill got stuck possessing Ford?’ The answers it has lead me down a lot of different paths to explore — such as this!

— The powers he has access too lessen over time, but currently he is somewhat capable of seeing potential future outcomes (ciphervoyance), pyrokinesis, telekinesis, faster healing factor and teleportation. Note that all of these are in a much weaker state and drain Ford’s body and by extension Bill heavily — especially teleportation. Doing that once can cause him to pass out, so it’s more of an emergency thing, most his abilities are honestly. Too much focus is required.

And I’m so happy to be a little treat on your dash!! I hope you enjoy all this just as much!

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 18

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: Two days in a row? I hope you like it!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17

• ··········· • ············ •

Viktor had once told Jayce that the lab should only be open to two people: him and Jayce. Anyone else was a distraction to their work.

However, as he glanced at you and your focused face as you tried to work on your rune shaping, it had him retracting his statement. Yes, you were a distraction, but Viktor couldn't help but welcome it into the lab. It was as if you had been there since the beginning. The way you lazily draped over the couch or leaned into his table. At some point during some of the past days, he found himself expecting to see you either enter the lab or already sat at your spot.

It was a strange and yet familiar emotion that he had felt once before. When he met Jayce, there was this invisible pull that linked both Piltover’s man of progress and the kid from Zaun, who had stolen an Academy uniform.

They fit together; despite all the bickering and head-butting, they both knew they would be there for each other, whether it was at their highest high or the end of the world. That connective tissue that passed between him and Jayce was made of the strongest alloy in Runeterra.

And then, you came along. When he crossed eyes with your disgruntled figure on the night of the rocket attack, he felt it. The same electricity jolt as when he met Jayce. Small strands were slowly becoming a rope that connected him to you. Even though he didn’t care to understand why, he let the familiar pull of thread manifest. Much like Jayce, your presence was welcomed in his space. And much like Jayce, you quickly found a way to his heart. Even if the space you occupied was entirely different from Jayce’s, you both were a part of him.

He knew you liked sweet tea without sugar or black tea with tons of it. He had caught you humming and singing when you’d been helping keep watch on the lab. He felt the love that you and Esther shared every time both of your eyes met. He learned that you have an expression only for when Jayce annoys you. He was keeping track in his mind of all the places where he had touched you, and you hadn't immediately flinched. He enjoyed it when you called him Vik with a grin on your lips that changed the intonation of his nickname.

And at the present moment, he had learned that he very much enjoyed you calling him 'Professor.' He made his face grow red, and his mind jumped to scenarios it had no business jumping to while he was at the lab.

It didn't stop him from stealing sideways glances at you from his seat at the table. The small twitch of your hand as you spoke the rune, followed by a frustrated frown when the rune didn’t work. The scientist looked at your hands, and his own started to warm as he thought about how well his long fingers intertwined with yours. He chuckled when you groaned at the panel, shaking it in frustration, the old panel rattling at the abuse.

When he sat down next to you after working in the malfunctioning reader, you immediately tucked your feet under his thigh. The sound that escaped him was more of a surprise than disapproval. The gesture was so domestic and comfortable.

You started to quickly shuffle away while he had to consciously make his movements relaxed and nonchalant as he stopped you. His first instinct was to just grab your legs and keep them in place. Lies. His first instinct was to grab your legs and place them in his lap, letting the warmth of you help with his aching bones. He contented himself with keeping your feet warm under his leg.

He enjoyed the silence in the lab, even when Jayce cursed and grumbled on his workstation or when you hammered the little blue crystals from the board. It was a fulfilling calmness. He was surrounded by the machinations of the people he cared about. And as he was lulled into a relaxing state, somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he had no desire to do any more work today. Which wasn’t exactly a bad thing, but it was surprising.

All he wanted to do for the rest of his workday was to sit on this heavenly upholstered couch absorbing your heat while listening to Jayce tinker away angrily.

You groaned in frustration once more, and he wrapped his hand around your knee, drawing soothing circles on it. You didn’t acknowledge it, and when he looked at you, he saw a line between your eyebrows, showing your feelings.

In his mind’s eye, an image flashed. Him, leaning down, smoothing that line with his thumb, and then placing a kiss where it showed, while you scrunch your nose in mock protest. It was a clear memory of something that had never happened. It felt like seconds separated that gentle calmness from when chaos broke loose, even though it had been hours.

One moment he was welcoming Sky into the lab, trying to leash Jayce's misplaced anger, and the next their assistant was lying on the floor bleeding.

“Jayce! Go get help!” The broader man nodded and jumped to action, leaving you and him to look after the slightly younger woman.

Viktor's thoughts were running. The quickness of events still not completely sinking in. He had quickly spared a glance at Jayce's table, where a metal ball seemed to have expanded with the heat of Jayce's welding machine. He cursed under his breath and looked back at Sky.

You were gently caressing her head and telling her to breathe, and for a moment Viktor wished he had the people skills to be able to calm someone else down when he was panicking.

He kept applying pressure to the blanket but stopped short when you ripped the glove from your hand, his mouth open to protest. The glow still amazed him. and even though it was faint, it was awe-inducing seeing your fingers shimmer with light.

Before he could finish calling your name, something shifted. Not just in you, but in the room. There was a buzz in his ears, a sudden temperature rise, and his eyes watering.

As he tried to adjust to this weird atmospheric change, you abruptly shoved the blanket away from Sky's midsection. An almost feral move, making him almost lose the precarious balance he had managed on the floor.

Your hand gripped the place where the woman had been hurt as if you were trying to tear that piece of her out. There was something artificial in your movements, like something was doing it for you.

The hand you placed on the injuries turned charcoal black, and the white uniform his assistant wore started to look like it was being burned, small holes rimmed with an incandescent orange glow appearing on it. His eyes widened, scared it was burning Sky, but the girl only whimpered, and when he tried to look closer, only her uniform was melting.

The black on your hand started to grow, small black lines climbing your arm, and with the little Viktor knew about anatomy, it seemed like it was flowing upwards through your veins.

He called your name, and whatever looked back at him was not you. Your welcoming eyes were cold and unfeeling; he would dare to go as far as angry. They reminded him of a cat eye with a blue glow light reflecting in the pupils. Viktor quieted down as you kept staring at him coldly, searching for something in his face, and when he tried to call your name again, you only tilted your head. From the corner of his eye, he saw three red dots appear on the front of your clothing, mirroring Sky’s injuries. He tried to call out to you, but when you blinked, he saw the warmth in your eyes come back. You gasped in pain, and you slumped over, laying face down on the floor.

There were a couple of seconds before Viktor's brain restarted to focus. He looked down at Sky’s burned uniform and noticed three small red healed scars, and then his eyes shifted to the pool of blood starting to come from under you. He shuffled quickly towards you right before Jayce burst in the door with several enforcers. His partner's face was a mask of confusion and disorientation, but Viktor shook his head. Not the time.

"We need to get them to the hospital," Viktor said, still sitting weirdly on the floor, and Jayce quickly nodded.

Viktor's heartbeat was becoming faster by the second. He had been scared. For a moment he had been scared. Not for you, but of you.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies