#but i think it's foolish to argue that this wasn't a fucked up way to have the end of this story start

[r0setyler]

i believe that shipping tentoo/rose and recognizing that the way it happened was fucked on the doctor's end and traumatic on the end of rose herself can coexist. saying both of these things do not contradict each other.

i can say that the metacrisis is still the doctor and say that rose was right at first to say "he's not you," because of the context rose has in the moment and the work rose had put into finding the doctor that she conceptualized as the doctor.

i can also say that he tried to manipulate her into choosing the metacrisis because that is what he believed was best for her, even though i can also say she did choose to kiss the metacrisis in her own right.

and finally, i can say, that it was fucked up he left her in norway, solely because, bro, that's a long way away from where they need to go lol.

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Troublemakers

masterlist

pairing: regulus black x female reader

warnings: cursing, fluff, mr no nose

summary: you and reggie being the entertainment in voldemorts cult

a/n: this was funnier in my head, i kinda butchered the idea but oh well, hope you enjoy it !

song: mind mischief - tame impala

You and Regulus were at a Death Eater meeting. You sat next to each other, as always.

Your hands were under the table as the two of you played rock, paper, scissors.

Lucius was next to you and he watched you hit your thigh, annoyed when you lost.

Voldemort hits his wand on the table twice, waiting for you two to stop.

Caught up in the game, since you had gotten four ties in a row, you both hadn't heard him.

It wasn't until you felt both your heads being slapped in the back did you realize the Dark Lord was waiting on you two.

"If you two are done with your filthy muggle game, I was just about to mention..."

You and Regulus rested your heads on the table, eyes fluttering shut as you two tune out the boring voice of Voldemort.

You were soon awoken by a bang on the table.

"I hope you two enjoyed your beauty sleep," he glares.

"We did," you and Regulus say in union, then high five each other

You glance around the room and notice that everyone else has already gone.

"You two can be excused from this behavior if you teach me how to play that game, but you two mustn't tell a single soul," Voldemort whispers.

You look at each other, a grin making its way to both your faces. You glance back at Voldemort before nodding your heads.

This was the second meeting this week.

You two had been arguing about random stuff, getting things thrown at the two of you as you ran around shouting at one another.

You were sitting at the meeting, thinking about things that you are better at than Reg.

You suddenly feel a tug on your hair.

"The hell?"

"What?" Regulus shrugs. You turn your head back to the people at the table, but you feel another tug.

"Can you fucking not," you whisper harshly.

"Can you fucking not," he mimics you in a high pitch voice.

You kick his leg with your heel and he lets out a hiss of pain.

Voldemort slaps his hands onto the table, making you both jump.

"Stop this foolishness, now," he orders you two.

"Not until you get a manicure," you roll your eyes and cross your arms.

"I'm sorry?" Voldemort asks as Regulus covers his laugh with his hand.

"A manicure, you know... to fix your nails," you say as you look at the people around the table. Most of them are either scared for you, or just shaking their heads.

You feel another tug on your hair, this time harder.

"Ow! Regulus, what the fuck," you hold your head.

"Enough!" Voldemort shouts.

"He's just mad he has no hair for someone to pull," Reggie whispers in your ear.

"Make one more comment on the topic of my baldness-"

Sat next to Regulus, you two were gossiping about the Death Eaters.

Not everything you were discussing was true, but they were things you heard.

For example, Regulus heard some muggleborn girls laughing about how Lucius looks like something they call a "Barbie".

After you two found out what it was, you couldn't get that picture out of your head.

You two giggling like children while pointing at Lucius and whispering to each other.

"Are you both done laughing at me," Lucius stares at you both with a bored face.

"Whatever do you mean, Lucy."

"First, don't call me that. Second, you know exactly what I mean!"

"We really don't."

"Fine," you huff, "we were just comparing your looks you a Barbie Doll," you explain.

"A what?" Voldemort and Lucius asks.

"Let me show you," you take out your wand and conjure a Barbie.

Regulus takes it and holds it out to them.

To everyone's surprise, Voldemort himself starts laughing.

He points his finger back and for between the doll and Lucius as he laughs.

"You guys are right! He does indeed look like Barbara!"

"Barbie."

"Same thing."

"Not you too, My Lord," Lucious runs a hand over his face.

"Who the fuck did this!"

"Uh, oh," you and Reg sigh. You figured that after the conversation with hair at one of the recent meetings, Voldemort would want some.

But you two decided that was too nice for your liking. So you decided on clown hair.

Voldemort comes rushing into the living room, where everyone was on the couches.

Gasps of horror filled the room as people stared at the bright rainbow hair.

"You two," Voldemort snarls.

"You," you both grin.

"What have you done to my head!"

"We thought you could use some hair," you smile innocently at him.

"You call this rubbish hair?!"

"Hey! We think it suits you!" Regulus exclaims as you nod in agreement.

"Get it off of me, this instant!"

"Hmm-"

"Now!"

"Hmmm…"

He starts speed walking to you, you two tried so hard not to laugh at the sight, that your eyes started watering.

He is almost where you guys are sat when you two stand up and start sprinting out of the room.

"Gotta go!" Reg shouts as you rush out into the hall.

"GET BACK HERE! REGULUS! Y/N!"

[surielstea]

Adoration | Drabble

Based on this request.

Pairing: Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary: Cass comforts reader who is struggling with her reflection after giving birth.

Warnings: Body image issues | fluff

1k words

A/N: YOU GUYS ARE ALL SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL AND ANYONE WHO SAYS DIFFERENT CAN DISRESPECTFULLY FUCK OFF. (Said in a loving way) 💙💙

Finding an outfit for dinner with the Inner Circle turned out to be the most challenging task I've been given today. I stood in front of the full length mirror with a woeful frown on my face.

The navy blue dress I wore was beautiful on the hanger but on me it just, wasn't right. I couldn't place exactly what it was about me but I couldn't find it in myself to feel pretty anymore. The material sat wrong on my skin and the color washed my complexion out. I felt mediocre, at best.

"Mother spare me." My mate voices from the doorway and I startled, flicking my eyes to him in the mirror and crossing my arms over my chest.

"I know, I should change." I mumble, thinking it stupid of me for even attempting to wear something so bold.

"What— why would you change?" He creases his dark brows, clearly confused. I turn to him, letting my arms fall to my sides.

"I look bad." I shrug and he blinks, gazing at me like I'm insane.

"You? Look bad?" He asked as if the idea was preposterous, his tone utterly aghast.

"Yeah." I sigh and walk over to the armoire, opening the doors of the wardrobe.

"Sweetheart, you're the most beautiful female I've ever seen." He walks further into the bedroom, our daughter cooing in her crib as he passed by her.

"You're only saying that because I'm your mate." I grumble, shuffling through the racks of clothing I no longer had any confidence to wear.

"No, before we were even mated I thought the same." He argues and I swivel, looking straight up at him.

"That was before I had Ellia." I gesture towards the crib beside me. His eyes go wide in shock and he glances towards the babbling babe then back to me, hazel now full of pure warmth.

"That only makes you more beautiful," His expression softens as he brings his large calloused hands up to my cheeks. "You look just like her, that's more than I could've asked for." He utters, his thumbs stroking the sides of my cheeks.

"It's not about my face." I murmur, crossing my arms over my torso again.

"What? Your body?" He arches a brow. I give a slight dip of my head. "My love, I'd never want to invalidate how you feel but, c'mon, this is foolish." His hands leave my cheeks and go to my shoulders, running down my arms and dipping to my hips. "Ive seen you decapitate men twice my size, you're the last Valkyrie standing and you're letting this get you down?" He tilts his head and I tear my gaze from his, turning back around toward the clothes.

"I know, It's dumb." I huff, finally finding an all black dress that wasn't tight in any unflattering places.

"It's not dumb, I'm sorry," he wraps his arms around my waist, my back flush against his chest. "You birthed a living child less than a month ago, do you know how much I admire you because of that?" He asks and I can't help but melt into his warmth. "The fact you can think so lowly of yourself is insanity, you're the most beautiful female I've ever seen." He reiterates, his strong arms tightening around me. "I love you, okay?" He hums into my hair and I nod.

"I love you too." My hands rest on his, running my thumb over a small scar on the back of his palm. He presses a hard kiss to my temple and he takes the black dress from my hold, hanging it back up on the rack. "Leave this on." His hands drift down to my hips. "I want to take it off of you later." He hums, pressing his lips to the side of my jaw and I roll eyes at the comment.

"You're ridiculous." I shake my head, but close the doors of the armoire anyways and let him have what he wants.

"Conceiving another child could take years, I want Ellia to have a sibling." He shrugs and I scoff turning to look up at him.

"You're a very dedicated male." I rise onto the tips of my toes to peck his lips. "And also forgetful that we can't do whatever we want anymore." I intone, bending down over the edge of the crib and picking the murmuring babe up. She wore a frilly dark red dress, matching her father's siphons.

"I can find a babysitter, maybe Az is free..." He wonders absentmindedly and I giggle. "We've both learned from experience that Az isn't a very good chaperone." I croon, rocking the child in my arms. "No, uncle Az isn't good at watching people is he my sweet?" I coo at Ellia in a high-pitched voice and she reaches towards me, her small fist clenching, trying to grab my nose. I smile and kiss her forehead.

I look back up to Cassian and he's staring at me like I hung every star in the night sky, pure adoration and devotion in those swirling hazel eyes, staring at the two most important people in his life. "Thank you Cassian." I speak lightly. His eyes flick down to the child in my arms then back up to me.

"Don't ever thank me." He shakes his head, taking the girl from my arms as I pass her to him. She was so much smaller in his grasp, she made him look like an absolute giant. "And you, my heart," He kisses his daughter on the cheek, a wide smile spreads over her lips. "You don't even thank me for anything either." He hums, matching her cheeky grin.

"C'mon, we're going to be late." I say, wrapping my arm around his bicep. "Fine with me," He purrs, leaning down and kissing up my jaw. "Cass, Rhys will kill me if we don't show up again." I playfully punch his abdomen and he backs away.

"Alright fine." He sighs, readjusting the child to be held in one arm so he can intertwine his freehand with mine. "But we're only staying for dinner. I was serious about that sibling thing."

Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glam-targaryen @going-through-shit @fauxdette @impossibelle @amara-moonlight @webecheesy-blog

Comment a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

Comment a “🖤” to be added to the Azriel taglist!

[lowkeyrobin]

Oh hello me again 👀

I had another idea lmao, this one's a little dumber but here me out 🙏

Joshdub x Reader teasing each other over accents/comparing accents (literally any accent I don't mind, I just need Josh content, literally my second favorite of The Boys and second favorite Australian lol)

STOP I LOVE THIS AWERHJRNWNRBSNSN ; thank you for requesting! hope you enjoy ; your reqs r literally the best lol ; also I'll have that foolish one you sent me up soon I just need to tweak some stuff

JOSHDUB ; accents

summary ; you and Josh like to bully each other over your accents

warnings ; language, excessive DubDaddy running gag/joke idfk

word count ; 646

masterlist

"Bro, shut the fuck up, no way you're trying to diss me with your biscuits and tea looking self"

"Says you, scorpion fucker!"

"What the hell is happening right now?" Mully questions with a slight laugh, looking over to Juicy, Eddie, Gabby, and Narrator.

Juicy answers his question, "They're fighting over their accents"

The four watch as you and Josh continue roasting and arguing with each other, throwing insults every which way.

You were all staying at Juicy's house for a large sleepover-party, currently located in the living room. Prior to the playful argument, you'd all been watching a dumb action movie, which got paused because you all agreed that it was too boring and wanted to talk instead. The girls, minus Gabby, had left to go pick up some pizza and wings, considering none of you had eaten dinner yet, and it was already seven in the evening.

Gabby laughs, hearing another cruel insult escape your mouth. "When are the girls getting back with the pizza?"

Narrator looks down at his watch, "Hopefully within the next 15 minutes before they strangle each other"

"You're a cock sucker. You literally speak in gibberish"

"Says you! A few sandwiches short of a picnic. What's that even mean?"

"Okay, and I'm supposed to know what chuck a sickie and fire up the barbie mean? Quiet yourself down, Josh"

Juicy snickers, a hand loosely covering his mouth as he looks away momentarily. Eddie laughs, cheering you on in his native language across the room, Gabby under his arm. Mully can't help but laugh with Narrator beside him, both of them unable to hold back their amusement. It wasn't necessarily what you were speaking was funny, it was the tone and why you were fighting that got them.

"This is the stupidest thing we've ever argued over" Josh chuckles, "That includes that time where you tried to gaslight me into thinking you didn't call me DubDaddy"

"Again, that wasn't gaslighting! I didn't call you DubDaddy!"

"Why do you say daddy like that?" He laughs, "You accentuate the a like an au sound"

"It's just how I speak! Say tuna"

"Tuna" He speaks, pronouncing it like ch-una.

"See?!" You exclaim, "You're the one talking weird"

"You say tuna like t-ew-nah!" He counterclaims

"Yeah, okay" You playfully roll your eyes and cross your arms, leaning back into the couch. You look over at Juicy, then Eddie and Gabby, then Mully and Narrator. "I don't say it like that, right?"

They're silent, failing to hide the smiles tugging at the corners of their lips.

"You're fucking kidding me!"

"To be fair!-" Juicy quickly speaks, "You both sound dumb. Mully does too."

"Ha!" You laugh, looking at Josh with a smug smile.

"What the hell?" Mully questions, looking to Juicy, "When was I involved in them?"

Juicy shrugs, "Since you decided to be Australian, brother"

"Dawg, you can't choose to be a certain nationality," Eddie laughs, using his free hand to rub the T-section between his eyes and over his nose.

"Are we not going to talk about the DubDaddy thing?" Mully asks, refocusing the conversation. "I don't remember this happening"

"Shut the fuck up" You quickly reply, moving your legs around to sit criss-cross on the couch.

"No, no, no. Tell us about that" Juicy giggles.

Josh quickly explains before you can tell your side of the story. "We were on VR Minecraft, after that 24 hour challenge-"

"I didn't call you DubDaddy!"

"-And we were trying to at least get to the Nether, right? They fell into a pit of lava, logged out while screaming DubDaddy into their mic, wanting me to help them or get water to save them from the lava pit they were in" Josh chuckles, seeing your annoyed expression.

"I did not call him that, I swear on my life"

"I don't think anyone's believing you, Y/n"

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me 5 (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3 Part.4

Masterlist.

Warning: angst, mention of selfharm, arguing.

Summary: After a challenging party and a disagreement with her mother, Y/N finds herself alone, confronted by her darkest thoughts. She hits rock bottom, but something prevents her from taking irreversible actions.

Note: This part will address sensitive subjects such as depression and self-harm. If you're not comfortable with these topics, please do not read. I want to emphasize that my intention is not to romanticize distress or depression. If you're struggling and need help, there are people around you. My DMs are open for anyone who feels the need to talk. You are not alone. 🫶🏻

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

How could I be so stupid, even though my parents warned me about boys like Chris?

Liars, manipulators who can't control their desires and needs.

And I, like the naive and innocent little virgin I was, fell for it.

I fell for it, and I believed it for two years, believed it to the point of tearing my fucking heart out of my chest.

I can't believe I could be so damn foolish.

Is this what being blinded by love is like? Is this what it's supposed to mean?

Is that why they keep lecturing us teenagers that we don't know what real love is?

If he lied to me that night, then it means he lied to me every other night.

If he truly loved me as he claimed, he would never have dared to do such a thing to me.

How could he look me in the eyes and tell me all those bullshit while he was already dating another girl?

I thought he was honest and sincere; he had the same look as the first time he said 'I love you,' and now it all seemed like a fucking lie.

I knew that sleeping with him that night wasn't supposed to mean anything, and since we were supposed to remain friends, it's not the fact that he's with another girl that hurts me.

It's the fact that he lied to me, making me believe I was the only one in his heart.

I was warned about him; Julia told me to be careful, and even my father told me it was better if I went to the other end of the country to cut contact with him.

But I didn't want to believe all that because I was charmed by a few kisses and conversations that I thought were meaningful until now.

I wish it were just a lie, but that night, just before leaving Julia's party, I saw Tess and Chris kissing in the middle of the crowd, and I felt like I was going to die of heartbreak.

He was kissing her right here in front of everyone, which means he didn't even bother hiding it from me anymore.

Was it a way of getting back at me for what i did ?

Why did he make me believe he didn't hold a grudge against me? Why did he play with my fucking heart like that?

I was so ashamed that I didn't even bother explaining the situation to Julia; I went home and locked myself in my room.

Waking up this morning, I saw a ton of missed messages and calls from Julia. Shit, I didn't think to tell her I was leaving; she must have been worried...

In addition to feeling like shit because of Chris, I naturally had to wake up with a hangover.

I'm pathetic, this whole story is ridiculous.

"You came home very late last night; I thought you'd be back today," my mother said, arms crossed, upon seeing me enter the kitchen.

Great, now I'll have to face her, and judging by the expression on her face, I suspect our conversation won't be pleasant. That's just what was missing!

"I didn't feel very well last night; I preferred to come home," I told her, opening the kitchen cupboard to take a mug.

"Did you drink?" she asked, exhaling.

"Mom, I told you it was a party for my return, and-" I barely had time to finish justifying myself; she had already resumed speaking.

"I thought you had changed, that you had improved, but I see it's worse. How do you think your father will react to this, y/n?" she said, distressed.

I sighed before she could speak again. "Seriously, y/n, do you think it's an appropriate way for a young woman like you to behave? Have you thought about what people will think of us seeing you like this?"

"Damn, don't you ever get tired of bringing everything back to you?" I snapped, and she jumped at the sound of my raised voice.

"My whole fucking life, I played the role you wanted me to play, and I never complained!" I said, furious.

"You sent me to the other end of the country without even giving me a choice, forcing me to rebuild my life and leave the people I love!"

"Do you have any idea how challenging it is to be your daughter, Mom? Do you know what it's like to have this kind of education when you grow up around normal parents and teenagers?"

"Yes, I made some mistakes, and you never-" I paused, letting out a fake laugh. "Never failed to remind me!"

"But all the good things I've done, all the good grades, all the people I've helped, everything I've done to please you and help you, you've never commented on that," I said, disgusted.

"You never congratulated me; you never said you were proud of me. And no matter how much effort I put into it, I was never enough for you or Dad!"

"I hid behind this role of the perfect little girl. I hid all my pain and kept my head high, hoping that one day you would be proud. But the truth is, you'll never be because you don't love me. You love the girl I pretend to be, but you hate the girl I am!" I said before leaving the kitchen in tears to lock myself in my room again.

This day couldn't get any more horrible than it already was.

My mother tried knocking on my door, but I stayed there in my bed.

I didn't want to face her anymore; I didn't want to talk to her. It was already hard enough.

Why was my life so chaotic? Why don't I deserve happiness?

Why do things always have to get worse?

What did I do wrong to deserve this?

I didn't even know who I was and what I was supposed to be.

At that moment, I would have given anything to go back to the other end of the country, far from my parents.

But I knew that there, I would have given anything to come back to Boston, close to those I love.

I was lost and alone.

I had no one to share my pain with and no one to hug.

It turns out the only person I might have wanted to embrace was just a liar and an opportunist.

I wrapped myself in my blanket, closed the curtains, and turned off the lights.

I spent the day like that without moving a muscle.

Night came, bringing darkness with it.

Activity on the street outside my house diminished, giving way to silence.

My mother had given up and stopped knocking on my door.

My tears flowed and rested on my face until they turned cold.

I didn't know how long I had stayed like that, but I knew it was a long time.

I kept thinking about all the things I might have done wrong in my life.

I searched for the reason why everything was going so wrong.

Was it because I wasn't grateful enough to have a roof over my head?

Was it because I had been a spoiled child?

Was it because I didn't make enough effort?

Was it because I wasn't a good enough friend? Or a good enough daughter?

Was it because I am a bad person?

Am I a bad person?

Is it legitimate for me to feel this bad?

Am I not exaggerating?

After all, there are worse things in life, right?

People are dying out there, losing their loved ones, and I'm crying because a boy lied to me?

I'm crying because I'm just an unloved child?

A child who only wants to be recognized and appreciated.

What did I do wrong, damn it?

The more my thoughts chained together, the harder it became to breathe.

I had a weight in my chest, and I could feel it deep inside me.

I had cried so much that my sinuses hurt, and my eyes were swollen.

It was hard, so hard. What was I supposed to do?

How was I going to be able to continue living with this weight on my chest?

Dark and obscure thoughts took over my mind.

Thoughts that I was ashamed of, thoughts so awful that I couldn't bring myself to recount them to you.

I wanted to do something bad; I got up and grabbed the blade from my pencil sharpener on my desk.

And before I could reach my bed again, I was interrupted by my window opening.

I turned around in shock, falling face to face with Chris. Damn it, why did he always have to do that?

The blade slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor at that moment.

"Shit," I whispered, quickly bending down to retrieve it.

"What's this?" Chris asked, eyebrows furrowed, pointing at my closed hand.

"Chris, get out of my room right now," I told him sharply.

He scrutinized my face for a moment before speaking again. "Were you crying? Y/n, what's wrong? What are you hiding in your hand?" he asked, concerned.

"It's none of your fucking business. Just leave; I don't want you here!" I said, feeling anger rise again.

"Wow, I haven't done anything. Why are you talking to me like this? Seriously, I'm getting worried. What's going on?" he asked, confused, approaching me.

On reflex, I put the hand holding the blade behind my back when he reached my level, only making him more worried.

"Chris, I'm warning you; I'll call my parents if you don't leave my room now!" I panicked before he grabbed my arm.

"What are you hiding, Y/n? Open your hand!" he said, getting angrier and trying to open my hand.

"Chris, stop – let go of me, stop!" I said, succumbing and crying when he started overpowering me.

I tried to struggle, but he had much more strength than me. It didn't take him long to open my hand and find the blade.

His expression changed; he furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at me.

"What were you doing when I came into your room?" he asked, well aware of what my answer would be.

Tears started flowing again, and this time, I was filled with shame. I couldn't even bring myself to speak, so I just stood there, looking at him with teary eyes.

"Y/n," he said in a fragile voice.

"Why?" he asked, his gaze sad.

"Chris, I want you to leave," I told him amid my sobs.

"No, not until you explain why," he said, shaking his head.

I lifted my head before taking a deep breath to try and stop my tears.

"And why don't you explain your little story with Tess then!" I told him, changing the subject.

"Wait, are you serious, y/n? Don't change the subject," he said, completely confused.

"Chris, what I was about to do is none of your business anymore, not since the moment you lied to my face, making me believe I was special to you," I said, pushing him away.

"But what are you talking about, y/n? I never lied to you," he said, shaking his head.

"Then why didn't you tell me you were with her!" I raised my voice.

"What?" he said, even more confused.

"Chris, I want you to leave; I don't want to deal with this shit right now," I said, turning my back to him.

"Y/n, I'm not fucking dating her. Where did you get that idea?" he said, placing his hand on my shoulder, trying to turn me around.

"Why do you keep lying, Chris? She came to ask me to keep my distance from you, emphasizing that you two are together!" I told him, turning around and brushing his hand off my shoulder.

"Do you really believe that nonsense?" he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I saw you kissing her," I said, clenching my jaw and trying to hold back my tears.

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, taking a step back.

I sighed. "Damn it, Chris, you're such a jerk," I said, shaking my head.

"Y/n, it's not like that. It's really not what you think," he began to try and justify himself before I cut him off again.

"It's not what I think?" I said, raising my voice and eyebrows.

"Oh, so your tongue wasn't in her mouth?" I said, crossing my arms.

"Y/n, I know it can be misleading, but..." he began to try and explain before I cut him off again with a laugh.

"Misleading?! Chris, seriously?" I said, biting my lip.

"Please, let me explain, y/n," he said, grabbing my hands, but I didn't let him. I pulled back.

"I don't need you to explain, Chris; it's very fucking clear," I said, nodding my head.

"Y/n, please," he said desperately.

"Get out, Chris," I told him sharply.

He looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, not moving.

"For God's sake, just get the fuck out; I want you to leave!" I screamed, pushing him.

"I'm not going to leave you alone when you were about to hurt yourself, y/n. You can be as mad at me as you want, but I won't leave this room until I know you're safe," he said, standing his ground.

"Oh, now you're worried about me?!" I said, laughing.

"You're getting yourself worked up over nothing. I haven't done anything wrong, y/n," he said, looking me in the eyes.

"You'd rather believe some girl you don't even know over me. You won't even give me a chance to explain!" he said, waving his hands.

"Because I don't want to listen to another one of your lies, Chris. I'm too tired for that!" I told him, breaking into tears.

"But I'm not lying to you, y/n. Trust me!" he said, advancing towards me.

"I can't. I can't. I'm not strong enough for that. I don't want to take the risk of sinking even lower!" I confessed.

"Is it because of me that you were going to do that?" he said, pointing to the blade that now rested on my bedside table.

I looked at him, eyes soaked and throat tightened.

"Oh god," he whispered, running his hand over his face.

"I'm so sorry, y/n, if I made you believe I wasn't sincere, but all this is just a mistake. I'm not dating Tess," he said, taking my hands.

"I slept with her for a long time, okay, I won't lie to you. I was sleeping with her before we got together, and when you left, I turned to her right away," he began to explain, and I just listened.

"I was a jerk to her. I made her believe it could work between us to keep her under my control, even though I knew we would never be together," he said, and I could hear the disgust in his voice.

"When I got myself together, I stopped everything with her and tried to apologize, but she kept resenting me. She knew what you meant to me; that's why she didn't waste a second to come and tell you those lies," he said, and I sank down, sitting on my bed.

"Y/n, I'm not proud of what I did. She didn't deserve that, and it's not an excuse, but when you left, I was in such a bad place that I hurt anyone who came near me," he said, sitting next to me.

"I haven't lied to you once," he said, placing his hand on mine.

"I'm sorry, y/n, believe me, I really am. I didn't want you to end up like this. I should have told you that night, but I was too ashamed," he said, looking into my eyes.

"And why did you kiss her then?" I asked, wiping my tears.

"Because she threw herself at me; I was completely wasted. By the time I understood what was happening and detached her from my lips, there might have been enough time for you to see us. She probably waited until you were around to do it," he told me.

I looked at him without answering; I was hesitant. I didn't know if I should trust him or not.

"Y/n, I know it sounds far-fetched, but I swear it's true. You can ask anyone; I never dated her," he said, trying to be as convincing and reassuring as possible.

"Chris," I said, lowering my head, "I don't know if I'm supposed to believe you. I don't know if I should trust you or not."

"It's the truth, y/n, I swear. You can ask anyone. I would never do anything to hurt you," he said, squeezing my hand.

"I need time; I don't know what to think. I don't know if I should believe you or not,"

"I'll give you all the time you need," he said, nodding.

"You should rest; it's late, and you really look tired," he said, getting up.

"I'll take this with me," he said, picking up the blade from my bedside table before heading to my window.

"Chris!" I said before he left my room, and he turned around.

"Yes?" he replied.

"I don't want to be alone," I said, letting a tear fall, "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep, please?"

He took a deep breath, "Y-yeah, of course," he said, moving closer to me.

He grabbed the chair from my desk and placed it next to my bed before sitting down.

I slipped under the sheets of my bed, whispering to him, "Thank you, Chris."

"Don't thank me; it's the least I can do for you," he said with a weak smile.

Silence filled the room for a few seconds before I spoke again.

"It wasn't just because of you, you know?" I said in a weak voice.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, leaning towards me.

"I had a fight with my mom," I told him, and he nodded, signaling me to continue.

"And for the first time, I told her what I really had on my mind," I continued, sitting up against my headboard.

"I said things to her that I had never had the courage to say before, and when I went back to my room, everything hit me," I said, unable to control my voice, which occasionally broke.

"I found myself alone with my thoughts, and I started to wonder why all this was happening to me," I continued, waving my hands.

"I got lost in my own head; grief took over, and I felt this horrible weight on my chest," I said, letting a tear fall and placing my hand on my chest.

"It hurt, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do. My thoughts were screaming awful things at me, and I struggled to breathe; I felt suffocated," I said, shaking my head, and more tears began to stream down my cheeks.

"And for a brief moment, I thought that by inflicting physical pain on myself, it would get rid of all these bad thoughts," I said before biting my lip.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to distract my mind. I didn't want to hurt myself, but it felt like the only solution," I said, trying to wipe away my tears.

"And now, looking back, I realize how stupid and awful it was. I don't know what came over me; it was like it was stronger than me," I added, hitting my mattress with my arm.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to feel better," I said, shaking my head, and he took me into his arms.

I was so carried away by my emotions that I didn't even notice he was also crying.

"It's over now, y/n; I'm here, okay?" he said, holding me tightly.

"I'll chase away all those bad thoughts of your head for you if you want," he continued to say.

"It's going to be okay, I promise you," he said, gently stroking my head.

"I can't figure out what the hell is wrong with me," I told him, crying against his chest.

"I played a role for so long that I don't even know who I'm supposed to be," I said, clinging to his shirt.

"You're allowed to be lost; we all go through that. You'll eventually figure out who you really are; you just need to give yourself time," he reassured me.

"I know who you are, and I assure you that the person you are doesn't deserve to inflict so much pain on themselves," he continued to say.

"I just wanted to please them," I said, crying.

"Your parents?" he asked, and I nodded.

"If your parents don't love you for who you are, then they're really assholes. You deserve better than that," he said. I left his arms, wiping my tears.

"You're an amazing person, y/n, and it breaks my heart to hear you say that because you shouldn't have to beg for your parents' love, and it's just not fair," he said, caressing my cheek.

"In their place, I'd give you all the love in the world; in their place, I'd constantly tell you how proud I am of you because that's what you deserve," he said, looking into my eyes, and I couldn't help but cry.

"Thank you, Chris," I said, lowering my head.

"I'm sorry that life throws so much crap at you. If I could take away all the pain from your heart, believe me, I would," he said.

"But right now, what you need is to rest," he added.

"And I won't leave your room until you fall asleep, I promise. I'm here; you're not alone. I'm watching over you," he said, yawning.

"You're tired too," I said, smiling slightly.

"Yes, but I can wait," he said, returning a smile.

"You can sleep with me if you want," I told him.

"I don't know; won't your parents freak out?" he said, furrowing his brow.

"Not if you leave before they wake up tomorrow," I said, shrugging.

"Please, let me do this at least for you; you need to rest as much as I do," I added.

"Okay, um, do you want us to sleep in the same bed?" he asked timidly.

"You can sleep on the floor if you want, but it wouldn't be the first time you and I share a bed," I said, scratching my neck.

"Yeah, but the other times we shared a bed, y/n, it wasn't for sleeping," he said, rolling his eyes and chuckling.

"Do you think we wouldn't be able to share a bed without getting intimate?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"No, that's not what I meant. I—," he said, embarrassed, before I cut him off.

"It's okay; I'm joking. Stop being silly; come here," I said, lifting the blanket to signal him to lie down next to me, which he eventually did.

Silence filled the room, and it was a bit awkward. Chris kept tossing and turning, so I eventually spoke up, "Are you going to stop fidgeting around anytime soon?" I chuckled.

"Sorry, it's just really warm," he said, chuckling as well.

"Well, you can take off your sweater," I replied.

"Yeah, but I'm not wearing anything underneath," he said, embarrassed.

"Oh," I responded, "um, it doesn't bother me; you can take it off if you're more comfortable that way," I said, trying to play it cool.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking into my eyes.

"Yeah, and besides, it's nothing new. I've seen you like this before," I said, feeling awkward, and he couldn't help but laugh as he took off his sweater.

"Why are you laughing ?" I asked, confused.

"Nothing; I just find this situation funny," he said, stopping his laughter.

"Oh, shut up!" I said, giving him a punch on the shoulder, and we both burst into laughter.

"I never told you, but I really love your laugh, you know?" he said without thinking, making me blush.

"Ah yeah?" I responded, embarrassed, but this time not for the same reason.

"Yeah, I find it soothing," he said, smiling.

Another silence fell. We were face to face, looking at each other without touching, as if there was a vast space between us, almost like we were afraid to make contact.

"I love your eyes," I said without really knowing where I was going with it.

"Why?" he whispered.

"When I look into them, I feel like I'm the only person on Earth," I replied, letting my heart speak.

"It's because you are the only person who truly exists in my eyes," he replied shyly.

Another silence.

"I love your lips," he said.

"I love your nose," I replied.

"I love your hips," he continued, and I could feel the tension building.

"I love your arms," I responded, quickening my breath.

"I love your hands," he replied, placing his hand on mine.

"I love your back," I said, gradually moving closer to him.

"Y/n..." he whispered, his lips just a few millimeters from mine.

"Chris," I responded, my eyes fixed on his lips.

"I love you entirely," he said in an almost inaudible voice before closing the distance between our lips.

I grabbed his collar, pulling him closer without parting our lips. Our kiss deepened, our breaths mingling, and the room's temperature became unbearable.

"Y/n, we can't," he said, separating our lips, my right hand still on his cheek.

"I know," I whispered.

He laid back next to me.

"I love you entirely too," I said, turning my head toward him, tears in my eyes.

Silence, again.

"Maybe in another universe, we got to have our story," he said, staring at the ceiling.

"I wish we were in another universe," I responded, gazing at the ceiling as well.

"Do you think in the one we are, we'll never get to have our story?" I asked him, and he turned his head to look at me.

"I don't know," he said, sighing. "All I know is that in this universe, the girl I love leaves at the end of the vacation," he added.

"I wish things were different," I said.

"I know, me too," he replied.

"Can I fall asleep in your arms?" I asked, letting a tear fall.

He didn't respond, just opened his arms for me to snuggle against his chest, which I did.

"Good night, my angel," he whispered.

"Good night, my love," I replied.

I couldn't help but shed a few tears before closing my eyes and finally managing to find sleep.

Taglist: @chrisloyalgf @christopherscamopants @blahbel668 @thematthewlover @mattsturnioloarchive @carolinalikesthings @bernardsgf @whicked-hazlatwhore @hearts4chris @mattybsbitch @sara2233445

[thestarminstrel]

don't very often come into the tag to post my thoughts unprompted, but finished challengers and. eugene.

what did pacat do to him.

i already wasn't expecting great things just based on the preview where eugene, my poor boy, just gave a weak thumbs-up at getting benched. but i had faith and hope as foolish as it was.

like, you're telling me that eugene labao who spent years working to get on the fencing team, every year told his mom "this will be the year", and gave a training camp his all just. gives a forced smile at being booted off the team for state?? what?? if pacat wanted to go with a eugene that cares more about the team than his personal resume, fine. okay. but eugene is allowed to be more upset. he should be. he was given everything he dreamed of by williams saying that they could have two reserves, and now it's gone. i don't care how much a team-player you are, that's devastating. especially as a high school junior (in america and australia i GUESS). if you want to go to college for fencing, i imagine the state competition is a great way to get scouted. also, you miss out on fencing with your teammates for the last or second-to-last time. getting benched as a freshman sucks but you got some more years in your high school career. but eugene's a junior, this is his first year on the team, so now he's fencing state maximum once. that's just a cruel stab in the back by williams, genuinely. he should have been given time to be upset onscreen whether it was privately or with friends.

which then, what the fuck williams. you literally said that you could have two reserves- that you FOUGHT for two reserves- and all the sudden eugene can't compete. i never did high school fencing and maybe things are different in australia, but that seems a little ridiculous to me. like wtf did the higher-ups tell her? "yeah you can have two reserves for one competition but that's it" ???????????????? did pacat have an experience like this or something bc i have no clue how that's a logical train of thought a high school sports organizer can have. i will admit that one could argue she's competitive and wants to win. like sure but then why have a second reserve. could she not decide and was always planning to cut nick or eugene depending on who did better at the camp? what kind of coach is that?? none of the other coaches did that - not even donati and she is neck to neck with williams in this rivalry. it doesn't matter how much she wants king's row to have this gold medal- if williams was intentionally doing any of this, uncaring of whether or not she hurts one of the fencing boys, she should not be a coach actually. period. again, i love early fence williams. but oh my god the way she handled this was so bad.

which then brings me to: what is the point of eugene.

i love eugene, he has been one of my favorite characters since 2020 when i first read volumes 1-3. he is one of the reasons why i get so excited about fence and makes me so happy as a character. but honestly? you could cut eugene out of fence and nothing would change. i know he's not haiden or nichoji, but he was put there for a reason that i think pacat forgot. he never has any signficant screentime unless it's to be comedic relief or be a supporting character to nick, the other "underdog" on the fencing team. i really do hate to say it, but reading challengers really made me wish pacat had written out eugene sooner or not written him at all. he's not treated well as a character, and at this point, i don't understand why eugene is even in this story.

another point i want to make is nick. what the hell is wrong with nick. you're telling me that the same nicholas "zero" cox who was about to give up his scholarship and chance to fence so that eugene, a guy he barely knew at the time, could finally be on the team is the same nicholas who only says "but coach--" when eugene gets kicked off the team? that is a terrible friend. i'm not saying nick should have said "i'm not going to state if eugene isn't!!" but he should have called williams out on it, found eugene later and say "dude i'm so sorry this sucks" -- literally ANYTHING!!! but no, nick bever acknowledges it outside of this panel and is too busy at state apparently to notice eugene being bummed about, you know, not fencing with him. it's so, insane to me that nick became this person that doesn't bother checking in on his bro. that tells me he's more concerned about fencing and seiji - which to each his own but i would drop anyone who did me like that. can't even manage a "how r u doing" text what the actual fuCk. i can not stress enough how much i do not like this nick right now.

in conclusion: i need eugene to have a good cry with his mom or his bros about this bullshit and to eat so much good arroz caldo. please save my son from the narrative, it keeps being mean to him :(((

[lionheartedmusings]

i've been rotating this in my head since last night and i think it's worth talking about regarding q!bad's current arc, but something that truly struck me was the music choice for the "switch up" yesterday specifically and i couldn't understand why... until now.

cc!bad doesn't do things halfway and so we have to assume every detail, music included, is intentional and used to convey something, the man is as unhinged about his lore as we are.

the music that played when he prepared to go down to meet the fed worker yesterday wasn't necessarily evil or creepy, not at all. it was triumphant — intense, yes, and it starts with what one could say is a suspenseful undertone, but not "here comes the creepy torture song" and more like "pump yourself up, because you have work to do, and it's glorious".

i feel like that explains q!bad and what he needs to do very very well, because it's a very sharp contrast with the song that played during his "acceptance" stream when he unleashed his anger and revealed what he'd done. two days ago, he reached a breaking point he hadn't in a very long time — lost himself to a level of inhumanity he hadn't in a very long time, without any semblance of a moral compass around and work to do. yesterday? well. yesterday, we saw a man on a mission — a positive one at that.

there's no madness to q!bad when he goes to presumably torture this federation worker, there's no "he's lost it and now he's doing horrible things" and i think that's a very important thing to keep in mind in this upcoming arc — he is very, very lucid and very, very sane, and he's not one bit sorry. in fact, he's pleased that he's being proactive. he's happy to go to work, i imagine not only because of his self-appointed mission but.. well, because it's fun.

there's a lot of angst to q!bad, but i feel like in this arc it's also relevant to keep in mind just how unremorseful he is about... just about anything related to his past. oh atlantis? oof... oh. yeah that happened woops. venice? we wouldn't want a repeat of that, hehe. the salem witch trials? oh those were fun! he talks about torturing people... all the time. i mean, we saw the man torture q!foolish, one of if not his closest friend, and he doesn't particularly care (one can argue that it's because q!foolish also doesn't care but there's something there for both of them).

my point being, i think the release of q!bad's anger and cruelty is a tough subject for him — he clearly is incredibly restrained. but the aftermath? the actual acts of cruelty that no one would condone?

he doesn't care. in fact, if he does care, he's proud of them and of what they can accomplish. it's fucking fun for him, it clearly puts him in a good mood, and it's not in a "he snapped" way at all. man just enjoys some good old fashioned torture.

i don't believe we'll see any remorse or guilt from q!bad about this, ever, perhaps even to his detriment. i truly think right now he's just happy he's doing something and if he gets to be sadistic and cruel and twisted while doing it? it's a win for badboyhalos everywhere!

[cursedzucchini]

Well fuck me, i just spend an hour looking through my liked posts, to find that one angst Damian and Danny twins. Still didn't find it. Imma describe it lil more bellow, but if anyone knows what prompt I'm talking Abt pls tell me, imma tag it in the morning.

Prompt: Danny and Damian twins, but they hate each other. I think in the og post there were two versions, like Danny hoping Damian likes him now, but Damian tries to stab him, or both of them hating each other. I didn't take any route, i just wrote this prologue thingie. I think i might continue this, but if anyone gets inspired, feel free to add anything?

Something Abt Danny and Damian hating each other (or Damian hates Danny, Danny... Tried to survive, and later Damian regrets everything and Danny is bitter/scared of Damian) just scratches this part of my brain. Anyway yee that's all

Danyal al Ghul was gone.

His body was left to rot in some abandoded bunker. His grave empty, because Damian never bothered to bring his body back. His name deleted from every record, no failure has place between the best.

Damian didn't remember much about him. He knew his brother looked similar to him, they were twins after all. He was also pretty sure the younger one was shorter than him, though that couldn't be correct. There weren't any memories of Danyal being sick, so how could he be shorter than Damian? There was also the distinct impression of an awkward smile, but he might've mixed the memories up. Why would his twin wear such an unsure (pathetic) expression (grimace)? He was also the son of the demon, even if he was a failure. There is no such a place for weakness.

No, it must have been someone else. Damian had another clearer memory where his face was perfectly neutral. There is no reason to make such a face, if you are able to hide it.

Though that... Wasnt correct either?

Richard had recently taken to try and explain more about how their family functions. He reasoned that surely the League and Batman work diffefently, giving Damian many sound arguments. Yet he was sure the real reason for these... Lessons, was to explain more about the mundane side of things.

In one of the evenings spend arguing with the older man over the most idiotic things (if Drake was acting stupid, obviously he deserved a knife thrown at him), Damian somehow found himself talking about his annoyance, with his family uselessly emoting. How is Damian supposed to know, when they are truly proud of him, when they are truly disappointed, when they always show all of their emotions? How is he supposed to see which one is just them being weak, and which one is true?

His brother looked at him. There was pity in his eyes. And guilt. And pain. Damian wished Richard wasn't his brother.

Richard explained it. He spoke of emotions, and how they are natural, and none of them are false.

Damian didn't understand. He's not sure if understabds them now. But. If no emotions are false. And none of them make him weak. [Than why did mother taught them]

He doesn't like thinking about it.

But he hates thinking about Danyal more.

All his supposedly true emotions don't make sense. He... He feels his chest fill up with warmth when he thinks of him. He feels similar pain as when he is hungry in his chest. A strange mist falls and chokes his mind, whenever he is even reminded of his younger twin.

And there is bead of pure hatred inside his lungs, hating his crooked smile, detesting his small hands and despising his bright eyes.

[Wishing death on himself for not remembering their color. How could he forget his own twins eye color? Why does he only remembers the disgusting lightness making his stomach churn, their ugly staring at all his faults, wishing him fail]

Damian is quite sure Richard lied. There is no way all these foolish emotions are true. They don't make sense by themselves, how can they make sense mixed together? And after all they aren't strong enough to overcome hus brilliant self control, so they cannot be that true.

Or they weren't, until he caught the eye of a stranger.

A stranger with bright eyes.

With an awkward crooked smile, but other wise empty face.

A stranger with their hands playing with their shirt in obvious show of nerves

A little shorted than himself and...

A face almost the same as Damian's.

[sebbys-mama]

I love Aziraphale. Truly. And I believe, at his core, he wants to *be* good, but even more so, he wants to *do* good.

However, because of the indoctrination by Heaven, he is often misguided. Aziraphale is certainly far from perfect; he has many flaws. This includes, but is not limited to, being quite hedonistic.

Between these two large parts of his personality, Aziraphale’s attempts to do good often come across as selfish. He wants to please Heaven, but also himself.

I also believe, wholeheartedly, that Aziraphale loves Crowley. I can't imagine why else an angel would go out of their way to befriend and *help* a demon.

My headcanon is that Crowley fell in love, and was able to identify what that love meant, well before Aziraphale. I believe Aziraphale's feelings crept up on him slowly, manifesting more and more with every interaction he had with Crowley.

When Crowley saved Aziraphale’s books, I believe that was when it hit him. He finally realized what he felt for Crowley was more than platonic. However, he must have also been hit with great confusion. How could an angel love a demon??

Yet, that hedonistic side of him wanted to see how far he could get with those feelings, but without having to be honest and admitting it outright. So, he flirted. A lot.

I think, in his own way, he wasn't only protecting himself. He was protecting Crowley as well. Certainly, neither Heaven nor Hell would approve of such a thing. Aziraphale had to at least suspect that Crowley felt more for him than simple friendship. But, like his own feelings, he felt it was safer to keep that possibility hidden in the shadows.

When Aziraphale was approached by the (fucking asshole piece of shit) Metatron and was told he could bring Crowley to Heaven with him, he jumped on it. In his hedonistic mind, he believed that was the perfect solution. With Crowley as an angel, his feelings for him would no longer be a danger to either of them.

I believe that if Aziraphale suspected Crowley loved him, he had to be keeping quiet for the same reasons. Therefore, being reinstated as an angel would be how the only way they could truly be together.

Of course, Crowley knows Heaven's offer is bullshit and hopes he can convince his foolish angel that they can "be an us" without either side's approval. They're on their own side and have been for a long time. Aziraphale just doesn't realize or truly believe it. Especially when he gets an opportunity to please the beings whose approval he's been brainwashed to absolutely *need*.

These are obviously all my personal beliefs, and I know that when season 3 airs, I could very well be proven wrong. Everyone's headcanons are valid and possible. I don't want to argue or debate about it. I just wanted to write my feelings down. (I did not anticipate that this post would be so long lol)

[maegalkarven]

Another piece of unpolished writing is set free.

Post Noah reveal, Lord Enver Gortash and his favorite (traitorous) assassin attempt to have a long-awaited talk.

Durgetash, trans!Durge. Nsfw (this is the part where they tear into each other like starved animals.)

There's a loud, ringing noise in Gortash's ears, and the full weight of Bane's disapproval over his shoulders. That's the problem with masters; the moment you act out of their allowed narrative is the moment you're getting punished.

Enver knows he will meet torture upon death, the consequences of servitude just keep piling up. First Raphael and House of Hope, always ready to take is soul back, now the Black Lord. Enver wonders who'll get the first claim over his soul in case of his death, and if adding just another force after it will complicate the whole process, buying him time, or will it doom him even more.

He would swore to every god imaginable, if only to watch them all fight over his soul afterwards, the vultures gods truly are. Not that different from the devils, after all.

"You're quiet," a familiar voice mentions. "Calm. This is concerning."

He thinks about laughing right into Bhaalspawn's face, then decides against it.

"Would you prefer me to have a tantrum?" He replies instead.

He doesn't look to see Levi take a step forward, careful as if worried he'd spook him. Like they are strangers, like the entire plot Levi unmade piece by piece wasn't of their creation.

Traitor.

"I would prefer if you gave me reaction," another step. "Any reaction."

"And why," he finally looks up and his gaze immeditely gets stuck to the mess in the place where Levi's right eye used to be. Bloody Orin. Maybe he can put together a smart implant for the eye.

Foolish, thinking about all the ways he can improve Bhaalspawn even now. "Do you care?"

Levi takes another drastic step forward, ending chest to chest with Gortash, his breath ghosting over Enver's face.

"You said it," he tries to smile and fails, expression coming out in a grimace. "I am your nearest and dearest. We have a child, for fucks sake, it ought to mean something."

This is a low blow. Any mention of Noah is, especially as it's still stuck in his mind: the image of Noah throwing himself into his father's embrace, of Levi catching him into his arms and clutching into for dear life.

Like he cares. Like he didn’t abandon Noah there to begin with.

"You just met him," he pushes through the gritted teeth, trying to relax his jaw. "Don't act like you care."

Levi blinks at him, confused and genuine.

This is not his Levi, and yet it is.

Parts are missing, parts are misplaced, but important things are all the same.

Enver watches, transfixed, as his hand raises, as if on it's own accord, to lay on the bhaalspawn's neck, first gently, then it closes over the man's throat and squeezes.

Levi's eyes bulge, but he has the audacity to not fight, to simply take the abuse in. He lays his own hand over Enver and caresses it. Enver squeezes tighter.

"I asked you one thing," he lets out, low and angry. "One damn thing: leave the Iron Throne alone. But you just had to snoop around, did you? You just had to ruin every single of my carefully constructed plans-"

The bhaalspawn finally decides he dislikes being chocked to death, and thus forcibly tears Enver's hand off his throat. He coughs, squeezing Gortash's hand in his still, thrumb caressing the calloused skin underneath the gauntlet.

The gauntlet absent of netherstone, because it was taken from Enver the same way everything was taken from him.

He thinks if he lets himself be angry, he will never stop.

"Charming," Levi finally weezes out between the coughs. "I can see why I like you so much."

"Why you liked me so much," Gortash corrects. "Past tense."

The bhaalspawn gives him a weird look.

"No, Enver," he argues, and the sound of Enver's name on his tongue has no right to sound so sweet.

Enver hates this man with the burning passion.

"Like. Present tense," he moves to be even closer, despite it quitle literally being impossible. Enver stands his ground, which rewards him with Bhaalspawn being all but wrapped around him.

The earthy scent ambushes his senses; the smell of grass and blood and dying leaves and something distictly animal-

Then a mouth closes over his, intent in it's unrelenting force; swift tongue opens Enver's lips and slides in.

He thinks of bitting this tongue off, even as he feels his own muscles relax, betraying him in their urgent need to re-capture the familiar scene.

He doesn't fight back, but doesn't respond either; being as still as statue as every inch of his body screams at him to do someting, take control, wrap his hand around Levi's hair and pull, push the man on the table and-

Levi's moan vibrates through the kiss, the hot, eager tongue licking at his teeth, being everywhere at once, overbearing, overstimulating-

It's just a kiss.

It feels like Levi is trying to devour him. Enver's hands move on his own accord, entangling in a long, messy hair and finally doing what they itched to do.

Levi let's out a surprised laugh as his head is violently yanked back. Then he pushes forward as Enver keeps pulling back.

"Aw, but I liked what I was doing," the bhaalspawn cooes, lips red and wet with saliva, single eye unfocused. "I love how you taste, I want to taste all of you."

"Of course you do," Enver grunts as his leg, again without any command given, moves to press firmly between the bhaalspawn's legs.

Levi giggles.

"Oh, good," he smiles. "You're responding. And here I was worried Karlach's beating made you impotent."

Enver growls. He'll show this arrogant asshole who thinks he can waltz in and out Enver's life how potent he truly is.

The bhaalspawn won't be able to move for days after that.

Some of his intents had to reflect on his face, for Levi looks positively elated.

"Yes," he murmurs, voice low and full of lust. "Do that. Tear into me, break me into pieces, destroy me and pull me back anew-"

"I will. Don't say you didn't ask for this," Enver threatens and knows very well Levi will not say that. Levi will take all Enver has to offer and will take it with grace.

Bhaalspawn smiles, beautiful and tantalizing.

"Promises, promises..."

***

It's like coming home. The thought is annoying, it's embarassing, and yet it refuses to leave.

The moment Enver slides into Bhaalspawn, the man sprawled underneath him - yes, on the table - hands held firmly in Enver's own - it feels like all the last months of sleep-deprivation, stress and the perfect plan falling apart didn’t happen.

It feels like the first time, with Levi cowered from head to toe in blood and viscera, with Enver letting him press into himself even so, knowing very well his clothes will be ruined by the impact.

It's the powerful rush of something primal, something bigger than he can ever become, a wave of affection so deep he feels like he is drowning.

Three years ago he was trying his best to tear out these feelings. Two years ago be prayed to Bane to free him from the prison of useless emotions.

A year ago he decided it would be better if Levi simply disappeared; out of the sight, out of his mind, out of his life.

Several months ago his dreams came to life, while his heart, stimulatiously, stopped.

Now he can breathe, even as the ocean of feelings rushes in, drowns him in it, pulls him under-

Not even death can free him from Leviathan Anchev, not Leviathan's and not his own. He walked himself into his own trap, and the doors are locked shut.

"Enver," his destroyer murmurs underneath, a picture perfect image of demise. Beautiful, bloody, mad with hunger what has nothing to do with his urges. Enver's back itches with the new scratches what were torn into it just now, the force of Levi's affection presenting itself in deep bloody slices of skin bleeding all over Gortash's back.

He leans in to kiss his name off Leviathan's lips, to make him light-headed, to steal the life out of these lungs.

His, his, his-

"Mine," he says aloud and feels Levi's tongue on his palm.

"Yours," the monster he tamed agrees. "Only yours. Please, Enver, I will die if you stop, I will tear at your flesh and chew on your bones if you don't-"

He snorts, and Levi stops his rant long enough to look offended.

"Don't be so dramatic," he caresses the tensed thigh with his clawed fingers, leaving light red marks on its wake. Levi moans. "I will take you and I will not stop taking you till there's nothing left. I will drink you up to the bottom and swallow it down. You fell back to me willingly - you're never getting out."

Levi suddenly rises on his elbows to pull him closer, forehead to forehead. He looks unexpectedly gentle, too gentle for someone who's being fucked out of his mind.

"Good," he murmurs and then pulls Enver's lower lip into his mouth and bites hard. He licks and sucks at the blood as Enver hisses through gritted teeth, his movements losing rhythm and becoming uneven. "I don't want out. This is where I want to end, you're the one I want to end me," and with that he squeezes his lower muscles, making Enver push in harder and hissing under the new pressure. "Have you ever heard of praying mantis?"

Enver actually laughs at that, the vibration going through both of their bodies.

"You have used them as an example of what you want to do to me, yes," he huffs, kissing the side of his lover's head where the broken horn meets the skin. Levi chuckles, then moans, then adjusts position slightly, changing the angle and letting Gortash reach even further.

"Then you know how much I love you," he hums.

No, he doesn't, or he didn't, or maybe he refused to know.

He kisses the corner of stubborn mouth as he feels release build up inside; Levi lets out a small, breathless huff.

"Enver," he whispers as Gortash captures his lips in a kiss, a single word caressing him like a promise.

"Me too," Enver agrees. "Hold on for me, will you?"

Levi does, and so they finish together in this so overused by bad erotica novels way, practically merging into one being at the top of the extasy. Levi reaches out and bites into his shoulder;  blood, red and hot, dripping down his chin. Enver lets go of his hands in favor of sinking his claws into there the thigh connects to the bottom, piercing skin in the process.

Enver doesn't remember what sex without violence is and he wouldn't want it any other way.

He lets go of the thighs to press shaking Levi into himself as they ride out the waves of pleasure. Levi's teeth are still in his shoulder, his hands are losing themselves in his hair, his tail is wrapped around Enver's leg so tightly the man starts to feel it getting numb.

Even as all of his plans have crushed and burned around him, Gortash still has one victory left.

This, the child of Bhaal lost in his clutches.

He will not allow him go.

[mikailys]

F: Am I disturbing you, by any chance?

i see this goddamn man and i lose it istg i want to punch him so bad.

i was trying to catch up with hsl on my other acc where i'm following nath's route and i saw the devil. i just hoped to never see him again in-game and yet here we are.

and oh my. wasn't i lucky enough to meet him again not once, but twice in the same episode, in the span of 5 minutes.

i'll just do a rant about this part of the episode because it's unbelivable that this is the only part i got covered before my ap brutally finished i only wanted the illus :(

also sorry if i'm being inaccurate in certain parts but i got back into the game recently and probably forgot some background info/context.

F: Nathaniel has always wanted to study Engineering at University.

N: *not very amused by it – comprehensibly*

i had no idea that during hsl ep40 he would attend the graduation ceremony – or maybe he did and nvm i don't remember it i mean it's been 5 years since i've last played it – and he had the guts to still impose himself and talk about nath like that. after everything that happened and with all the parents, kids and professors around?

god. like haven't you learned anything, have you, dumb fuck?

N: I have to stop by my parents' house because I need to take some stuff. But seeing how the wind is blowing, I don't really want to go there alone.

another thing i wouldn't have imagined is that we would actually go back to this old house. i can only predict where this is heading.

N: This house holds only bad memories.

C: Don't worry. I'm with you.

N: Yeah, thanks God. *cutely smiles*

bambolottino che sei ti abbraccio patatino cucciolino :(

and then we enter into his house and meet – again, unfortunately – that amazing person his dad is, who is never, ever satisfied and he can kindly go fuck off for as far as i'm concerned.

F: What was that foolish act you delight us with during the ceremony? (...) You understood very well. I'm talking about your speech. We have come to expect the best from you.

C: (Nathaniel takes a deep breath, to handle his increasing anger)

F: I wonder if you have anything left of what we taught you to make such a scene.

N: Dad, you really want to talk about what you taught me?

exactly f-word, do we wanna talk about what you and your lovely wife taught him? to always achieve perfection? to be scared to walk through the front door and spend the evening at the dining table with his family? cause, believe me, i wouldn't be so proud.

i guess we have different ideas about these so-called "teachings" you two gave him then.

anyway we leave with nath and then the most incredible thing happens. our soon-to-be father-in-law – omg bless candy's soul – calls us thieves. lol.

it's pure comedy at this point.

F: Don't play the innocent. I caught you in the act, you're peeking around. It's a hobby, right? For you to just stick your nose where you shouldn't.

well first i'm pissed you're thinking i'm a thief and second, i'm even more pissed because you're kinda right, snooping in people's business is actually candy's job so can't really argue on that.

C: I wonder what could I even stole in this house.

F: I don't know. You tell me. *damn chill bro*

C: Maybe your house is very big, but it lacks of the most important things.

anyway it's so funny that in italian - the language i'm playing the game in - he just keeps using the formal pronouns and i say it's funny because it seems like that behind his serious tone he's constantly trying to mock us in a kinda patronizing way.

but we're the bigger person and, even if i'm seething we can't be too unpolite to him, so we just tell him that his house sucks because there's no love within its walls.

politest person ever.

but spoiler he doesn't take it very well.

anyway to sum it up, he just says candy is responsible for nath's sudden change and for making himself look ridiculous in front of the whole school.

obviously we don't support any nathaniel's slander, for now, and we are ready to take over this insane situation by praising our bf who was right down the hallway, listening to this all madness.

N: None of this will make me look better in my father's eyes.

damn. that kinda hit close to my home too

after this argument we leave since we're good to go. but on the doorstep we're blocked by the best of wives and best of women (derogatory) who, unexpectedly, wants us to stop by and celebrate the graduation with the family – oh my.

okay i'm not gonna lie but for a millisecond i felt bad for adelaide. only a millisecond 'cause then i quickly regained consciousness.

i appreciate she's understanding the situation and that she still cares about her son wellbeing – in some twisted way – but i cannot excuse she was an accomplice to her husband's mistreating and beating and the fact she wouldn't report any of it if it wasn't for candy it's gutwrenching.

regardless, nath doesn't want to spend another minute in that house – understandably. when they're about to leave, adelaide takes candy by her arm and tells her to please keep an eye on his son and we, taken by an unusual kindness, accept, encouraging her to pay him a visit.

how sweet candy is.

just like a candy i'm so sorry but it was served on a silver plate

and after that we're done. nath takes us back to our home and asks us if the day after we want to go to his place, since we have never been there before – which it takes me by surprise cause i can't believe you two have been together for almost 14 episodes and you have never found a moment to go to his house before.

candy tells him that first she has to ask to his parents – but we already know she will go cause they have to do the deed – and that's all cause i finished my ap right after this dialogue :|

this ep with the new – not very new now but for me it still is – ap mechanic is exhausting. 550 ap just to fight with nath's parents really did the thing and i still couldn't finish the ep.

to think i still have to continue university life and start love life haha...

anyway to conclude: fuck nath's parents 🖕🏻

[blu3cl0v3rs]

Summary: Jay introduces Morro to video games

Warnings: Swearing, white jokes (Jay gets called a pasty dough boy)

Prompt: "Welcome to the future."

Extra: Storm siblings(ish) content from me?? More likely than you'd think. Kinda surprised it took me 10 days to make a oneshot about them. Set in a generic "Revived Morro living w/ Ninja" AU between seasons 12 and 13.

Jay put some weirdly shaped plastic remote into my grasp, and held a duplicate in his own hands. It had two weird mushroom-y shaped things he called "thumbsticks" and an assortment of buttons of varying shapes and sizes. There were two ridges that aligned with where I'm pretty sure my hands should be. I assumed it was correct, as it's the same way Jay's holding it.

"...and what makes these things so great?" I ask boredly, tempted to toss the thing just to scare the brunette.

Speaking of him, Jay dramatically held his chest as if I'd stabbed him.

"Do not worry, Brother of Wind, I will show you the way of gaming," Jay spoke like he was in one of those weird romantic tragedies he loved to watch with the Wat- Nya, his hand stretched towards me.

I pursed my lips and shifted his hand away, "Whatever you say."

The freckled man then launched headfirst into a long winded explanation of the importance and history of gaming, most of which went right over my head. The only video games around before I died I never played because they seemed so trivial. I mean, why would you play a digitized version of ping pong? It felt pointless. Plus, Wu was all stingy about technology usage.

"-and did I tell you about how I totally saved the world one time from a video game progra- hey, are you listening?" Jay waved his hand in front of my face.

"I don't think he needed a run down on your video gaming journey, Jay," Cole called from his spot on a beanbag. The other Ninja were similarly splayed over another beanbag, the couch, or the floor as Jay and I sat on cushions in front of the most pixelated TV I've seen in my entire existence.

Today was their "Game Night", and when I had made the foolish mistake to ask what a video game was, well I ended up here.

"Yeah, Jay, I'm pretty sure all you gotta do is explain the buttons and the objective of the game and he's all set," Kai said absentmindedly as he peered over Lloyd's shoulder to watch him play something called Minecraft. Something about a revolution and "enjoying hobbies again". I didn't really want to know.

"I know that, Kai. Anyways, Morro," my head flicked towards him and he held up the controller to my view, then he proceeded to explain the buttons. I mimicked his finger positions on the remote in my hands to memorize it.

"Alright, so since you're just starting out on your gaming journey, we should start with-"

"Just start him on Minecraft," Lloyd shouted, before aggressively clicking a button.

"Yeah, get that creeper!" Kai cheered. What the fuck is a creeper?

Jay seemed to momentarily pout, before just agreeing with the blonde. He loaded up the game and created what he called the "only real way to play Minecraft", which was apparently a normal level Survival world. Whatever that meant.

As Lloyd argued with Jay about how "playing in Creative mode was superior", I messed around to see what was so interesting about this game.

I had… uhh, what did they call it- oh, "spawned" in a forest that resembled a very blocky birch forest. For some reason, you have to destroy the leaves in order to move past them, which didn't exactly make sense. I eventually got bored of wandering, and just started hitting stuff. I discovered when you hit the trees long enough it would give you a piece of the tree. Weird thing was that the tree floated instead of falling over like it would in the real world. At first I thought the game wasn't working properly, but after doing it to like five trees I realized.

My bar on the right was getting low. It looked kind of like a bunch of chicken legs. Did that mean my character was getting hungry? I think I saw an animal earlier, maybe I could kill it and get food? I wandered a bit until I found some pink moving thing that somewhat resembled a pig.

"Hey Morro, you're low on your hunger bar, go kill that pig," Zane helpfully pointed out.

I nodded, and swatted the pig. I guess I should've expected it to run, as it dashed away. I clunkily followed, attempting to hit it as I chased it.

My attempts were not very successful, but my meager hits were enough to barely kill it.

I shifted my, uhh, hotbar – that's what it was called – over to the pork I had collected.

"Wa-wa-wait! Hold on!" Jay yelled. "Have you been playing this entire time?!" He looked shocked.

"Why no, the game's been possessed and is moving on its own free will- yeah, I was playing," I deadpanned the freckled brunette.

"That is not what you should be focused on, Jay, HE WAS ABOUT TO EAT RAW PORK!" Cole shouted offendedly.

Everyone craned to look at me. I simply shrugged, "I just started."

"Well, you have some wood, so click the yellow 'Y' button to open your inventory and whatnot," Kai said.

"It's not yellow, it's orange," Jay argued.

"Doesn't matter, it's the 'Y' button regardless," Cole butted in before he shoved some chips in his mouth.

"Shut up Cole, you're colorblind," Jay growled.

"And suddenly my colorblind opinions don't count, all because a white man said so-"

"I'M HALF FILIPINO!"

"Don't worry, Jay, you'll always be our pasty dough boy," Nya chuckled as she stroked his curls.

"I'm being bullied for my race," Jay complained.

"If none of you explain what I'm supposed to do I will just eat this raw," I state as I got bored studying the new screen that appeared.

"See the four darker gray boxes in the upper right corner? Put the logs you got into there. You'll get planks on the other side of the arrow; click on those until you can't get anymore."

P.I.X.A.L. instructed me through making a "crafting table" and using it to make a pickaxe. Zane then took over explaining how to mine and craft a furnace, then they all dramatically celebrated as I made and ate my first piece of pork, Kai even whipped out his phone to record that moment.

This felt ridiculous. But fun. Ridiculous, but fun. Until-

BANG!

"Ninjas.go was blown up by Creeper

Score: 53"

"What… the fuck was that." I glared at the red tinted screen.

"That was a creeper. They're these weird green four legged things that explode when you get two close," Lloyd replied.

"Are they real?"

"Nope, just in the wonderful game that is Minecraft. Along with Enderman and Golems and the like."

"Welcome to the future," Jay joked.

[xx-craftycreep-xx]

ANGST HIHIHIHI.

okokok so, what about a scenario where the reader shows purely comforting and platonic affection to Jeff. Like placing their hand on his cheek, gently rubbing their thumb and saying ''you're not as bad as everyone puts you out to be. You're beautiful Jeff.'' and jeff being the desperate incel he is falls inlove with the unsuspecting reader. BUT!!!!!!!! BUT! the reader is taken by Toby! and boy are they an affectionate pair!!! so jeff cant have reader!!!

-🃏

OH GAWD.THIS IS GONNA HURT AS HES MAH FAVVVV 😭

I don't deserve love,do I ?

Jeffery was tired. He really was. He always has been. He had never shown it to his family. He couldn't. He didnt want to. But, ever since that incident..the"night of murder" in forest lawn,he has needed someone he could vent to. Someone...who would listen without getting scared of his face.

And then..he met...You. You listened,without giving a damn about his face. You took care of him. And today,while he was crying,you,like usual,were patting his back. While your other hand was on his cheek, softly caressing his cheek.. "Oh.Jeff. Stop crying! Im sure Liu didnt mean it! Your not as bad as everyone thinks you are Jeffery. ...Yoy deserve love." "N-no..I don- Don't. ...I dont-" "You do! Please dont say such things!" You said arguing back.

It was quite. Silence filled the air. "F-fine." His voice shaky. He looked at you. His icy blue eyes were a little red,red from crying,as a single tear rolled down. You smiled at him and wiped that tear with your index finger.

His carved smile widened,but not creepily,rather sweetly. A slight pink tint on his porcelain skin. He love you...didnt he?

1 month later-

Taking a walk in the garden around the mansion was a rare thing for Jeff to do. Especially without troubling or humiliating someone. But maybe,there was something special? Oh yes,yes it was. Walking with a bouquet a your favorite flowers in hand,Jeff was walking up to the place where you mostly sat. A bench surrounded by roses,peonies,lillies and various other flowers.

After 3 minutes or so,he reached. But what he saw,made his already broken heart hurt even more. You...with...Toby. KISSING HIM. You both kissed for a good while,then stopped,looked at each other and then hugged. "I love ya Toby!". You exclaimed. " I-I d-do too".

Jeff was hurt...his bouquets of your favorite flowers falling to the ground,tears welling up in his eyes. Wrong...Oh how WRONG he was. HOW..how could he even THINK that such a SWEETHEART like you would love a MONSTER like him. Oh how foolish of him to think about a future filled with love. "I hate Toby. I hate him. I'll fucking murder him and Take Y/N away and then make them mine-"Stop.

All the voices in his head came to a stop as he heard you giggling. His eyes snapped back to you and Toby. It seemed like Toby had cracked a joke. Oh the way you were laughing. It...made.Jeff's heart feel SO GOOD. But it also made him stop feeling jealous or hurt. He loved you. But..you loved Toby. And..if..he took Toby...Away...You could never love him nor be happy.

And he didnt want you to be sad. The same laugh that he loved...he knew it would be taken away if he killed Toby. So...no...he wont. He will never hurt him.He took a turn and left. He didnt want to see more.

Walking back...He realized. He was right. He really was..wasn't he?

"I don't deserve love....don't I?"

[ivyprism]

A Brother's Regrets (Tenebrous AU)

Warning: Implied bad childhood, implied terrifying powers, etc.

Uncle Draven appears!

POV is from a child!

--------

*You tap Draven's arm. *You ask about his childhood, you ask about Morte, you ask about their powers.

"You ask a lot of things for a human. Though, really is it any of your business?"

*His denial only fills you with Determination. *You begin to say "please" repeatedly until he says yes.

"Alright, alright, stop saying 'please'. I'll talk, I'll talk."

*You smugly smile at the skeleton. *He looks positively bemused by your antics. *...What a scoundrel you are.

"Yeah, yeah, you can be smug all you want, human. So you want to know about my stubborn little brother, Morte?"

*You nod eagerly. *You scoot closer as you look up at the skeleton.

"Mm... Well, ain't much to say about that, kid."

*You huff as he scratches the back of his neck in thought. *You begin to talk about how he and his brothers have powers over shadows and Morte was sort of evil. *How very polite of you to say about his brother.

"I'm serious, kiddo. My bro and I don't talk much anymore. Morte is too busy with whatever the fuck he does and I'm trying to help my Nite run a kingdom."

*You protest saying there has to be something to talk about from his childhood. *He stares at you before he takes a long swig from his alcohol and he puts it down. *Yay, you drove him to alcoholism....?

"So, what is there to talk about? My childhood was fine, I suppose. I mean. Lots of expectations and stress for tiny kids like me and my older brother…"

*You notice he pauses as he thinks.

"Well, things were really different when Morte was born."

*You ask him to elaborate. *You notice he sighs as he thinks about it.

"I'm not sure if a kid like you should hear that."

*You loudly argue, "I'm not a kid!" *Even though, you definitely are a kid. *He snorts and cracks a smile. *But his smile instantly fades.

"Fine, kiddo. You win."

*You watch the skeleton closely as some shadows wrap around his wrist.

"My family comes from a long line of successful and powerful shadow sorcerers." We could manipulate the shadows and the darkness at will. It was sort of our thing. My father believed that Nite would take over one day since he was more powerful with his shadow magic than mine… But then Morte was born."

*You tilt your head at the skeleton.

"Nite was powerful, don't get me wrong… But Morte? Morte was born a natural at it. He had the most powerful magic in our family, although being the youngest."

*What a twist! *....Just kidding, you knew that. *You tell Draven "I already know that."

"Yeah, everybody knows that. Morte is a beast—literally."

*The Skeleton shrugs... *You notice he's trying to distract you from the task at hand. *You ask him to go on. *He runs his hand down his face... *He sighs.

"Clearly, he would be the one to take over the kingdom, right? A talented and powerful sorcerer like that? My father… He should've been so proud, right?"

*The skeleton sighs deeply again. *You notice his eyes flicker a bit as he thinks back.

"No, he wasn't. He despised--no, he was afraid of Morte and his abilities. I had never seen my father look at someone with such intensity… I don't know, contempt? Terror? All I know is that everyone in the kingdom looked at him that way."

*He can't seem to find the right words to say... *You understand though. *I mean, how would you describe your father viscerally fearing and hating your little brother?

"So, rather than simply accepting my brother and allowing him to become the next heir, my father and the people chose to completely disregard him. He'd start preparing Nite to take over the throne, with me as his advisor, and he never showed Morte any affection."

*You grip your chest. *How alone Morte must've felt... *It makes you tear up.

"And Morte? Morte was many things, but he was not foolish. He could sense that our father despised and scared him. So Nite and I attempted to show him the love his father never showed, but it turned into a hole that began to engulf him. And a kid like that? So gifted, so fucking powerful. It was only a matter of time before Morte put my father in checkmate."

*Draven scratched his skull as he leaned back.

"Morte gained allies and, well, he became resentful. His birthright was taken away from him… I guess that's what made him who he is now… So he took it back. He recovered the power that had been stolen from him. And the kingdom and our father suffered the price for their negligence…"

*Draven sighs and closes his eyes.

"I just wish I'd done more to stop him from doing all of that… I think you could say not assisting him was my greatest regret… But, you see how he is now? He doesn't need his brother anymore."

*You stare at him as he smiles weakly. *You can see his regrets soak through that plastered smile. *A brother's regrets... *You feel there is more to the story. *However, when you open your mouth-

"That's enough for today, kiddo. Let's get you to bed. Your uncle Draven can only handle so much storytelling."

*You protest, but he begins to rush you to bed. *Well, we'll get more answers later, you fiend. *Time for bed.

-------

[zzdinde]

i'm not in a current mindset where High Honor Arthur is better than Low Honor. To me they are both canon.

Here im talking about full on Low. Not helping John get his family we're talking about the hardcore Arthur.

I mean i love high honor for obvious reasons but the low option is actually pretty interesting in terms of how he deals with his own turmoils and emotions.

He's a man who openly calls out Dutch on his bullshit and hypocrisy while being aware of his own bad way and doing nothing to change that because he is dead on about him being unable to change and collect himself. The good in him is not sufficient to try harder and help from the bottom of his heart.

It feels like he tries to help himself coming to term with how cruel and unforgiving he is but i'd argue that it's not the case-- he's not helping himself, he is bringing himself down. TB didn't gave him a new outlook on life; it cruched him and made him bitter for being a fool and he feels like there is nothing he can do and he surely won't do it, because he don't want to do it.

I don't think it only comes from a place of apathy but more from fatalism

He doesn't see himself as a bit of good not only because he never done anything remotely selfless, but because Arthur is a man who values how poeple think about him to certain degree-- how people praise him or loath him. The low honor path ehance that fact in a unsane way: he was fucked over by the man he thought as his father, the man who praised him and called him son. And he is bitter. He is simmering in his own anger and foolishness that it dulls his own sense of justice. His own turmoil revolves around how love is intrinsect to loyalty. I'm sure he doesn't even believe people truly loves him. Why would they?

He doesn't even want to aknowledge that Tilly's going to miss him you know? He stops her short. Doesn't want to hear it.

He never had a chance to internalize what he felt and wanted cause he didn't see himself like that. Arthur being someone who cares for people is a core theme of his character but if you, as the player, chose not to dig deeper and try to end the cycle of violence, it won't end well. Each path is plausible with the life he had.

He had good in him, but somewhere along the way it gets buried and muddled.

So now i want to talk about returning to camp for the money in full Low Honor

He arrives, fights with Micah etc etc Dutch.

But one thing really clicked for me when he said "ive come back to get back what's mine"

Not only Arthur is selfish presented during a Low Honor route, but him getting back what's his can be read the obvious way-- Blackwater money, the only thing keeping them from getting back out West, the thing Dutch kept to himself with Micah's help. Arthur was betrayed by his father figure and even dying wanted to take it as a prize for how much he did for a man who deceived all of them and especially him.

So what about Micah? Well, all of the above is applied to it. Micah's the rat, he fucked the gang, fucked his entire life and fucked the rocky foundation of Dutch's way that possibly wasn't even real from the beginning.

So technically, it's not really a Redemption. He's not repenting for his sins as his last action is driven by selfishness and revenge.

He does not want Micah to die by his hand for the sake of the gang.

It's personal.

So, if the game is about Redemption-- and he wants to cope what''s his;

Where is it? Where is the beackon of light?

Well...Redemption is also a financial term for repayment.

That's the redemption of Arthur, killing the rat and taking the gold his is own Pony up to Dutch and Micah for allowing all that shit that happened.

But it never comes. Dutch's doesn't kill Micah when Arthur orders him to, and Micah gets to walk away after shiving the shit out of him in the heart and back.

Not only he doesn't get any personal Redemption but he doesn't get to give payback.

Ain't that tragically hilarious.

He thought he lived a sinful life, and he died a sinful death. There's no redemption. He's not allowed.

Don't get me started on the meaning of the stab wound, one in the heart for the love he had for Dutch who got crushed-- and one in the back by the betrayal of his father figure by the man whom he trusted more than his own son-- the real rat

[thetorturerwrites]

Lamb Ch 14 - He Comes

***This amazing artwork was gifted to me by @elmidol​​. Please do not re-use or re-post it without permission from them and/or myself. Don’t be a dickbag.

Previous Chapter

A/N: Heyo. I'm not dead.

C/N: sexual assault; physical violence; forced abortion (there's no nice way to say that)

“Stay here.”

You repeated his instructions out loud but winced when your voice bounced off the icy walls. The echo didn’t stop you from arguing with yourself, though.

“Stay here. Stay here in the house? Or here in the room? FUCK! Yes, stay here.”

Heaving a frustrated breath, you wiggled your fingers and toes and fidgeted like a child, trying to think of anything other than the terrible idea cooking in your brain.

Stay here stay here stay here. You can do this. Just goddamn stay right here where it is safe, and he will not murder us as punishment.

You stared at the doorway, willing Kylo through it, but the blasts still sounded outside, and you had no way of knowing if he was in the keep at all. It wasn't until the walls of the very room you tried so hard to stay in shook that your willpower faded.

Whoever was coming had already arrived, and you shot out of bed so fast you fell face first onto the floor. Forcing yourself into stillness, you waited on held breath to determine if someone was here and had heard you and your fumbling foolishness. Long minutes passed with you pressed to the cold floor until you could handle the numbness no longer. As quietly as you could manage, you crept out of the room and down the hallway, plastering your back to the wall and hoping against hope this would all be over soon.

All the pathways inside Kylo’s home led to the throne room. It had taken a long time for you to map it all out, but he lived in a stone honeycomb with his portal to the beyond in the very center. Anxious in a way you’d never known before, you tiptoed to the threshold. Seeing the black clothes and wide, hulking frame, you expelled a breath and let your flat feet touch the floor. With his back turned to you, you were unable to see around him. Still ill at ease, you inched further into the room cautiously.

“Kylo? What’s happening?”

There were a hundred other questions crowding your mind, but they all died when the god before you turned. He was beautiful. He looked so familiar but still so wrong. He had muted his shine, and he even wore Kylo’s clothes, but he couldn’t tamp down his essence for too long. Facing you, the tainted radiance you remembered from the forest erupted into the room, casting it into too much light.

Settling his gaze upon you, Solo grinned.

“There she is,” he said, his gravelly voice causing the hair on your arms to stand on end. “I thought I would have to come searching for you before too long.”

Your brow furrowed, and you took a step back, feeling too naked and vulnerable. You wished, for the thousandth time, that Kylo would give you some damn pants once in a while so you weren’t standing here in only his stolen sweater while his brother leered at you and your bare legs.

“K-kylo,” you tried to swallow the nerves down, but it wasn’t working. “Kylo will be back soon. He went to check on…” You realized you didn’t know what he was doing. “... something.”

You took another step back, intending to flee when you’d lined yourself up with the hallway, but Solo’s gaze turned lethal.

“If you make me chase you,” he said, low and threatening, “I will make you regret your every breath.”

On reflex, you gulped down the very next gasp. Maybe it was all the time you’d spent in Hosnia, afraid of Kylo’s capabilities, that made you plant yourself right where you were. You pressed your shoulder against the obsidian mirror and let your eyes dart around the room, praying that the blasts would stop soon, and your dark knight would come.

When you stilled, Solo’s face smoothed into a version of placid. He smiled, but it looked wrong on his face. Manic in the most dangerous way. He strode around the room as though it was his. His fingers brushed the throne too fondly, and you despised him. He was little more than a false god seeking a kingdom that didn’t belong to him.

“Do you remember what I said to you when I visited before?” 

He took a step towards you, and you shrank away from him, which made his lips curl in distaste. He clearly was unaccustomed to someone who didn’t want to be in his presence. Rejection wasn’t something this god endured in any sense of the word. When you didn’t respond, he turned that golden gaze upon you again and closed the distance between you so fast you shrieked.

“Yes!” You trembled, hugging yourself and leaning away from his sickly-sweet breath. It was honey when you wanted belladonna. It made your stomach flip. “You s-said I would do d-d-damage.”

Again, the features of Solo’s face changed so abruptly it was alarming. He smiled and placed his hand upon your shoulder, rubbing in gentle circles that made you sick.

“And yet, here you are.” He leaned in again, dragging a knuckle along your jaw. “Willfully disobedient. I can see why he likes you.”

The last bit was softer, a muse it felt as though he didn’t mean to share with you. He tracked the slow path of his knuckle along your throat to the jade collar and pressed his thumb into the center of your thundering pulse. He was too near, too hot, and the drastic rise in temperature made you sweat.

“Yes, well…” He heaved a dramatic sigh and slithered his fingers beneath your collar, gripping it tight and ensuring you knew you weren’t going anywhere. “Much has changed since I saw you last, pet.”

The pillow-talk name was revolting, as was the way he kept you pressed right up against his chest. Trapped between a literal rock and a hard place, you kept silent. Anything could set off this bomb.

“He killed three quarters of the galaxy, did you know that?” Solo traced his index finger along the shell of your ear as he ogled your wide eyes and open mouth. “And then he just stopped. Pop!”

He made a gesture to accompany the last word, showing how Kylo’s vengeance bubble burst. You understood that this wasn’t another visit to plead for the galaxy. This was something else.

“And now…” His palm slapped against your rounded belly painfully, fingers digging in, causing you to yelp and jerk. “I see why. A little woman at home and a family of his very own. At long last.” 

He inched towards you until his nose nearly touched yours. His voice dropped an octave, disturbed and menacing. 

“That. Will. Not. Do.”

Eyes wide, you surged up onto your toes with the realization Solo had come here to set his brother back on his deadly path, and the only way to accomplish that was to take away the reason he’d quit. He meant to end you and the darkling you carried.

“The bombs,” you chittered, pushing against his chest, “It was you.”

He cocked his head to one side, the corners of his mouth tipping up. His pride at his ploy was clear, and it lodged a boulder in your gullet.

“A game from our youth,” he offered. “His idea. We would see how fast he could undo a supernova before it exploded. But with him,” he eyed your cleavage and then your mouth, “distracted, it was easy to set the game to a greater difficulty level.”

The hand on your belly traveled lower, taking the long way around its swollen curve towards its target. Your fear doubled on itself and then doubled again. You struggled against his hold, but it was a futile attempt. Solo was every bit as strong as his brother and, now, just as determined.

“He will unmake the universe if you do this,” you whispered, voice faltering as the emotion grew and grew. Every time before where you’d thought you’d die at Kylo’s hands paled compared to this. You saw the delusion and hubris in Solo’s brilliant eyes.

“Yes, I'm counting on it,” he grinned again. “And from that a fresh canvas upon which I can create a new life, a better life! Life that…” he faltered, not wanting to give too much away, but you saw it in the cut of his jaw, the insanity dancing across his now gleeful features.

Whatever Solo's intentions were with you the first time, he'd seen Kylo's rampage through the cosmos as an opportunity. He didn't want to create a more perfect man. You could feel it rolling out of his pores. He wanted an age of man over which he was king, revered and worshiped. He wanted all traces of knowledge of Grandfather Sky Walker gone so he could take up that mantle of supremacy. 

“Fret not, little one. I will make sure your name is known and your sacrifice honored. The life I create next will never know my brother. They will remember you for eternity.”

His smile was unbalanced, but he did not move. He did not make to hurt you as he so obviously wanted, and as he stared at you, filled with the passion reserved for the insane, you understood that, even now, locked in Solo's grip, you dangled precariously in the middle of things.

“By your hand, a new age will begin.” He whispered it, but it landed like one of his supernova bombs.

In the flash of a second, you understood that Solo and his brother were neither omniscient nor omnipotent. It was only Sky Walker who held the power to both create and destroy, and though his children were gods in their own right, they were lesser beings than he. He had relegated Kylo and Solo to their specific roles alone. They could change the map of the galaxy in only one way - through violence. Kylo's ability to create life was an unforeseeable act, an outlier to his existence. It was his duty to take, to end. Nothing more. And being opposite his twin in every way, Solo could only give life. He couldn't snuff it out. He couldn’t kill you.

True Balance, it seemed, was a thing Sky Walker kept to himself.

"You can't do it, can you?" Your defiance shot to the surface like a rocket. The deranged deity snorted in your face, but you’d never been known for rational thinking. "You've gone to all this trouble, and you can't do the one thing you came here for. You need me to do it for you."

You huffed, skirting the edge of lunacy yourself with a laugh that turned Solo’s grip to a vice, but you looked him dead in the eye, unblinking. His sinister stare scared you before, but now all the bombast behind it was gone. He was as impotent as a babe in this situation.

"No, I can't kill you, pet." The gentle tone, the shushing cluck to soothe you, made your skin crawl. "But I can make you long for death."

Terror took root, and the smug smile fell away from your lips. Solo couldn’t end your life, but he could shatter it all the same.

Your mind conjured all the ways Solo could accomplish his goal without murdering you, and as though he could read your thoughts, he crowded you further, filling up your field of vision as he slid one knee in and forced your legs apart. The other knee pinned you in place by bracing against the center of your thigh, and before you could take another breath, his burning fingers found their mark. You had only a second to understand his intention.

You crowed, long and wounded, as Solo's thick fingers forced into your sex, ripping and tearing. Unchecked tears flowed, bubbling and sizzling from the heat that radiated off of your assailant. He pumped his fingers into you despite your ill-fated attempts to squirm away, working and working until he'd carved enough space into your cunt for him to fit two fingers to the knuckles.

When he vacated your body, you sagged, weight slumping against the obsidian rock. But your respite was short-lived.

"Is it always so cold here? Let's chase away that chill, shall we?"

With each word, Solo's temperature rose, his body almost vibrating from the heat roiling under his skin. Your tears evaporated. The fine hair on your arms and legs singed away. Again, long, thick fingers shoved inside you, but where they were only painful before, they now began to burn. And each thrust had that heat going deeper and deeper into you, chasing the true target. With three fingers lodged inside you, he edged near incandescence, too hot and too much.

As your skin and muscle and bones heated, you did the only thing you could think to do.

“KYYYYYYLLLOOOOOOO!!!”

You screamed with everything you had, hoping the Hosnia moon, always so comforting to you, would carry your plea to its Master. Every fiber of your being roared and strained, and somehow, your hands pushed and flailed and fought. You grasped for him, reaching and reaching as though he was right there. You weren’t ready to die. You weren’t ready for any kind of afterlife that left Kylo behind. And the darkling inside of you wasn’t ready to be ended before it could truly begin.

You scratched and ripped at Solo’s face with your left hand, trying with all of your might to carve out his eyes. On another pained wail for Kylo, your right hand shot up into the air, seeking the only creature in existence who could save you. What found your hand, however, was not the being you called for. 

It was his weapon.

The saber shot in through the window and into your hand, snug in your fingers as though it belonged there. The soul vessel that had served Kylo for eons latched itself to your breast, bolstering your resolve. You heard it speak to you, a radiating echo that thumped in time to your thundering heartbeat. 

He comes. He comes. He comes. He comes.

As you curled the weapon to your chest, the wall opposite crumbled. As though the keep and the mountain he built it from were nothing more than toy blocks, they blasted away and levitated in the sky piece by piece to reveal their creator, bathed in a vermilion haze. He stood upon a jagged rock, the fabric of his shirt and pants burning away as he himself ignited, a divine blaze in the form of a man.

Kylo's inky black eyes locked with yours, seeing you pinned to the obelisk with his brother’s igneous hand between your legs, and the entire bustling, breathing universe halted upon its axis. You saw hate in his eyes the likes of which you never had before. He was a beastly harbinger, annihilation made firm, the Holy Host of Death come to lay waste.

“NO!”

Solo shouted, surprise written clear across his features as the brother he thought he knew and could contain drew unfathomable power to himself, an inferno that would pulverize the universe to nothing but ashes should he so wish it. The planet, the cosmos, the very scope of existence bowed to his will. He would accept nothing less. Ren had the preternatural fury of eons spent alone at his whim, and he called on it all.

Behind him, Hosnia erupted. Thick, gray smoke obscured the sky, broken by flashes of brilliant white and crimson lightning. Mountains splintered, and all the water in the land evaporated. The tectonic plates underfoot heaved and buckled, serrating the ground into haphazard pieces. Every star in the sky thrummed impossibly bright, fighting to be seen through the ghostly fog, and it looked as though the moon bled, bathed in so much red mist it may never be white again. 

This was The Ren. Resolute. Unconquerable. 

Sneering at his brother, seething with his own wrath, Solo doubled down on his task, swiveling his head toward you, but it was too late. Kylo distracted him for only the briefest of moments, but that was all you needed. The saber sat half an inch beneath his godly chin, and it was now your eyes that burned with righteous rage.

“Forgive me, father,” you ground out between gritted teeth, hoarse but victorious, “I am sin.”

Solo gasped, face awash in shock, but there was no stopping it. You didn’t know how to work the weapon in hand, but the weapon itself knew what to do. A fiery arc of energy exploded into being and shot upwards through his head. As though it reached for the heavens, the saber’s length burst through the crown of Solo’s head, rendering the beautiful face asunder.

In the middle or not, you were only human, and the saber was a god's tool. As it lit to life, a horrible bonfire scorched a path up your forearm. Black spots and electricity that glowed carnelian warred for real estate on your body as the power chased every nerve and synapse until it reached your brain. Your mind splintered with an audible crack, too much immortal power inside your too-mortal skull. A spine-rattling seizure took hold, sending your eyes rolling back into your head, lashes aflutter. Your fingers contracted, spasming and curling into bloody palms, clutching the saber in a death grip. Your skin burned off in patches, leaving blisters and rapidly forming eschar in its wake. 

And though you screamed again, shot through with more pain than you could ever even conceive of, your tattered throat produced no sound, only a ragged yowl as your body gave up the fight.

You had nothing left to give, and the universe faded away…

Third man knew heartache.

He knew strife and terror as the gods warred.

Their battle bleeding into the world and

Turning all that was to dust.