#deserve that for having done 'things wrong')

[brawberryz]

Goodbye World

BatFam Yan! × neglected Magic Girl! Reader 《Platonic!》

Note:English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

You were going to die

You were going to die this way, alone and without anyone ever knowing of your existence, what a pathetic way to die

The magic had ended, it was only a matter of minutes before you became a witch you knew that the transformation was going to be painful and in a way you believed that you deserved this fate

You were the one who agreed to become a magical girl it is your fault, if your 14 year old self had known that this was the end maybe she would have rejected you

Now you were here, about to die, with no friends or family who cared about you

Family

You didn't know if you could call them that, they never cared about you they always left you aside and acted as if you didn't exist maybe they only did it unconsciously and they really cared about you, you knew that deep down for all of them you were just a burden and useless, they didn't tell you directly but they made you feel it and you believed that they were right to feel that way

Your mother never He was someone important, a prostitute who was lucky enough to sleep with Bruce Wayne himself, you knew he didn't even consider you a daughter, just a mistake, one of his many mistakes

Your siblings weren't that different from your father either, each one hurt and wounded you in different ways

Richard, the oldest considered himself the best, the oldest brother, he always bragged that he cared so much about his siblings that he would do anything for them

He was good to everyone except you, you wanted to believe that he cared about you but you knew it was a lie, he lies, he always lies and you knew it very well, maybe at that time you were too young to understand some things, but you knew that none of them considered you family

You still remember when he promised to go with you to the zoo, it was 5 years ago when you first arrived at the mansion, but he never kept the promise he was only good to you for the first few weeks then it seemed like he didn't care, he was just being good to you out of courtesy

Jason, you didn't have much to say about him, almost You didn't interact and if you did, he would just insult you and tell you to get out of his way while pushing you. You had heard that he had been revived and that thanks to that he now has that personality. You never got to meet him in person since when you arrived at the mansion he had already died.

You tried to get along with him, but it never worked. You always got an insult or a bad look from him. You never understood why he didn't like you. You never said anything to him. You were always good to him and what you received in return were insults. It wasn't fair.

Although, to be honest, nothing in your miserable life was fair.

Tim, you met him when Bruce brought him to the mansion, he was a year older than you but for the first time you thought you could have a friend your age, how wrong you were

At first he was distant, you thought it was because of his parents' death that he behaved that way, you gave him his space and tried not to be too annoying

But time passed and he simply spent his time ignoring your presence, you didn't understand what you had done to make him ignore you, you were good to him and treated him like a brother, why was everyone so mean to you?

When you tried to talk to him he would just tell you that he was busy or that you were being annoying, you knew that he had a lot of activities for being Red Robin, but deep down in your soul, you longed for him to look at you just for 1 second, to realize that he exists and that you are not just the shadow of the family

Damian, you welcomed him with open arms and gave him your support, you thought that since you were blood brothers you would get along better

But the only thing you received was that his katana almost pierced your head, his arrogant attitude and his enormous ego was something remarkable

He never missed an opportunity to tell you how pathetic you were and that you would never be worthy of being his family, that you were a shame, a disgrace that hammered the Wayne name

In a way he was right, you were never anyone just the bastard daughter of Bruce Wayne

With Barbara, Stehp and Cass you couldn't say much, Barbara was too busy with her affairs that she didn't even pay attention to you even though Sometimes she asked you how you were, but it was too weird

Stehp was neither good nor bad, she never treated you badly but she ignored you in some way, you never managed to talk to her directly, the only interactions you had with her were sidelong glances but nothing more

Cass, you hardly talk to her, but she was one of the few people who knew you existed, she was a person of few words although she seemed a little interested in you, but they never got to have a long conversation, just a few words like greetings or goodbyes

Your thoughts were cut off after hearing a voice, that damn voice...

"Do you have any last wishes, (name)?"

The cat spoke slowly approaching you, he was the one who had proposed you become a magical girl and you foolishly accepted, you thought that you finally had a true purpose that you could protect another like your family did, but you were too immature and stupid to realize the truth

"Yes...yes, I have one last wish."

You could barely speak, you felt like your body was heavy, it was like you had been stabbed in the back by more than 10 knives

"I hear you."

Kyubey looked too calm, and it was normal, they had already seen millions of magical girls die the same way

"I wish...I wish I could say goodbye to my father, please..."

That sounded more like a plea than a wish, in the back of your mind the only thing you wanted was for your dad to hug you, that this was all just a bad dream and tell you that everything was okay, but you knew it wasn't true

In a few seconds your vision went white and you were back in the halls of the mansion, in front of you was Bruce, walking backwards through the halls

You ran as fast as your legs could and when you reached him you gave him a big hug

Bruce He staggered at the sudden hug, he hadn't even noticed your presence or your steps

He turned his gaze and there you were, his daughter, hugging him tightly, as if you were afraid he would disappear

"(Name), is something wrong? I'm too busy to-"

Before he could speak again you quickly separated from him, you moved away a little before giving him a small smile

"I just wanted to hug a little, but anyway it's time to go"

You said as you stepped back a little

Leave? That word repeated itself in Bruce's head, what did you mean by leave? Before he could process everything you said something

"Oh, I almost forgot, take care of yourself okay? I don't like seeing you hurt"

You turned on your heels and then walked in the opposite direction and as you walked away and left a confused Bruce you shouted

"Hey dad! I love you..."

You said as you turned your head and gave him a sincere smile, you felt like tears were about to fall from your eyes

When you finished speaking you walked again and your presence disappeared the further you went down the halls of the mansion

_

That last interaction with you left him thinking, did you mean when you said "leave"? Even if he tried to concentrate on the cases in the Batcave, it was impossible, he needed answers and he knew where he could get them.

He walked through the halls of the mansion again while looking for your room, but he didn't remember it, how could he forget something so important? He's supposed to be your father but he doesn't even remember your age, the last time he saw you you were so little, a scared little girl who clung to his legs

How much had he missed? But this time it was going to be different

There would be room after room but they all looked the same, until he found one in particular, it was small and it was far from all the other main rooms

It was decorated in pink and lots of fluffy stuffed animals, but something was wrong

You weren't there, you were supposed to always spend your time in your room since you preferred to study from home, or that's what Alfred told him, but there was nothing it's like you had disappeared

He quickly went down the stairs, maybe you were in the kitchen

But to his surprise all the family members were there, except you...

"Has anyone seen (name)?"

Bruce said trying to stay calm, he had searched the entire mansion but there was no trace of you

"Why do you ask?"

Richard seemed indifferent to the question, he didn't understand why Bruce was so nervous

"I've been looking for her but she's nowhere to be found"

Bruce held on to the door, for some reason he felt too nervous, the thought that you might have left or that something might have happened to you made his stomach turn in a bad way

"You worry too much, Bruce, she's probably gone"

Jason spoke while leaning back in his chair, if he was honest he never paid much attention to you, he wondered what had happened to make Bruce so hysterical

"You don't understand, she never leaves the mansion"

Bruce decided to raise his voice, he didn't understand why out of nowhere everyone was so indifferent to you, something too hypocritical seeing from him since he was the one who ignored you first

"You worry too much B, I put a GPS on her a while ago, wherever she is I'll find her"

Tim spoke while writing on his phone computer, his confident tone disappeared as soon as he saw something on his laptop

"What's wrong, it seems like you've seen a ghost"

Jason joked looking at Tim

"I...I can't find her"

Tim didn't understand what was happening, it's like you've disappeared from the face of the earth as if nothing

"What do you mean you can't find her?"

Richard spoke now worried looking at Tim, how was it possible that you disappeared the GPS was too well hidden for you to take it out, something was happening and he didn't like it

"I can't find her I'm serious! It's like... like her existence had completely disappeared"

Tim tried to look for some sign of you but there was nothing, it's like you'd never existed

Everyone turned to look, missing? How was that possible, you never left the mansion and now as if nothing happened you disappeared

"Missing?"

Damian repeated angrily but at the same time, how dare you disappear like this? You are supposed to be his older sister, you should stay in the mansion with him, by his side, but you decided to leave like an idiot.

Somewhat hypocritical on his part since most of the time he spent his time saying that you would never be his sister, ironies of life, right?

Something inside them lit up, the thought of someone or something doing something to their sister made their blood boil

They were going to find you and they were going to make the person who took you away from them pay, you would never abandon them, right?

You always cared for them so much and loved them, you would never leave them alone like this, they are your family

It didn't matter if they had to get their hands dirty, they were going to bring you home no matter what, even if it meant having to put their morals aside

How stupid were they, they left you aside for so long and now they want you back?

What a shame that no one told them that they had lost you forever and that you were never coming back, never...

My life if I made my readers insert live a miserable life full of trauma was a sport.

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

you know this post seems a lil sad to me, cause when I was stuck in a corn maze I only managed to get out because there was an enthusiastic effort amongst everyone in the corn maze to help one another get through it, pointing the way and offering hints and asking questions When I was in the dmv so miserably early the doors hadn't even opened yet people were bringing over big buckets for others to sit on, and when inside there were so many random acts of kindness between the individuals there and silly little interactions that by the time I finally got my driving test done there was an air of kinship in the air and I only got out so quickly because another person realized she'd gotten something wrong paperwork wise and gave me her place in line

And when I hurt my wrist as a kid everyone kindly held open doors for me at every turn When my mom and I got stranded in the middle of no where thanks to a car issue like 5 different people stopped by our car and asked if we were okay, offered to help, (we were waiting for the repair guys or something like that) and warned us "its a bad area so be careful" and yet not once did anything bad happen at all, every person we saw was kind and worried for our wellbeing...(which while that does make me wonder what on earth they were trying to warn us about it did give me the impression at the time that perhaps they just all had some sort of beef with other, but i was a little kid so I wouldnt really know, it seemed to me like it was in fact a much nicer than average area)

When tragedy strikes don't people rush out to help?

When there's a hurricaine, a fire, a tornado, an earthquake, don't neighbors rush to help and protect one another? don't we try to save each other? don't we express heartache and rage when the first response ISINT to help? Why is it that our first response is rage? grief? heartbreak? when the first response to a bad situation is to take advantage of it or to abandon those suffering, or worse yet, to yank them back down?

Because we are social animals Crabs dont likely understand why they cant get out or even that theyre forcing the other crabs to stay in the bucket when they yank and pull, they just think its a way to pull themselves up, they dont have enough going on to grasp how physics works or to be cruel and want others to suffer with them.

Selfishness does exist, but it's not the rule

it's the exception, and we shout and point when it happens.

Of course we notice, because kindness is the rule

do we know the names of every single individual to ever save another human life? let alone to save thousands? Have we memorized the names of heroes who eradicated disease or created safety guidelines or fought for rights and for goodness in this world? Is it not the names of those we revile that we focus on most

telling our children of their crimes?

Why don't we focus more on every hero? Because theres just too many of them, because being a good decent human being is the norm.

Maybe not perfect, maybe even a pretty messed up human being but with a good heart, goodness knows I know a lot of people who while you might not say "thats a great person" you'd also never call them cruel or evil, just that they could use some help or deserve better lives.

I truly believe humans for the most part are good, and I say this without denying the evil exists. I am vividly, horrifically aware of the darkness in this world, but I refuse to let that define our race because to do so would be to excuse those who chose to do the wrong thing.

I believe humans are above all else, defined by the fact we can chose right or wrong. I dont want those who do evil to be the ones who represent us, in my mind or in anyone elses mind

They are the exception to a kinder rule.

this is just a me ramble though , my opinion thats not more valuable than anyone elses, just one I felt like sharing, because maybe it will bring someone some relief...

I used to feel guilty as a child for being human, for being something as horrible as that, and I know maybe some others did or do too

But remember please like mewtwo once said, its not the circumstances of your birth which defines you, but what you do with the gift of life.

we are not evil we are capable of it.

we are not good

we are capable of it.

and we will do both in our lives.

but I have been pleasantly surprised now that I'm older and know more about the world to see that in fact the world isint just like in history books overflowing with grief and pain, and convinced that since everyone said children were naive and unaware, that it must be worse than I could ever imagine

but in fact the world is full of the mundane, and every day normal people go about their lives and chose to be decent to one another and often do much more kindness than we will ever know.

I'm glad we arent crabs in a bucket

i love you all

people are like "if you put crabs in a bucket they can't escape because they keep pulling each other back in, this is called crab bucket mentality and describes why people don't help each other" and never acknowledge that crabs do not naturally occur in buckets, a human with more power had to put them there

[shanastoryteller]

Congrats on finishing See Something Say Something!! I checked the notification of the first AO3 email sent out and you initially planned on five chapters.

Would you say that the ending changed considerably since you started in October? Or has that stayed the same?

thank you!

it stayed the same lol. while my fics getting wildly out of control and becoming way longer than i anticipated is pretty common, i'm pretty much never changing overarching plot when this happens. the story that i become interested in telling is typically the story then i end up telling

almost every story can be made shorter or longer. it's less about what happens and more about how that information is conveyed. things that really tend to affect writing length are perspective and breathing room

the shortest fic i have on ao3 that's not part of a series is You Were (Not) Meant For Me (posted 11 years ago, jesus T_T). the premise is that claudia was a witch who intended trained stiles to be a witch and she arranged his marriage to laura hale, the future hale alpha. this is a traditional pairing as talia's husband was also a witch married to talia in service of the pact. except claudia died before she could train stiles or tell him about the engagement. stiles starts learning magic after scott is turned. derek falls for stiles and feels like he's betraying his sister by loving him, betraying stiles by not being the alpha he deserves and not telling him about the arrangement claudia made, and hates himself the entire time, but not enough to stop himself

that's a 100k fic easy

it's 1,696 words

it's extremely limited perspective (derek's) and it's made up only of limited snapshots of moments with very little context. there's no seeing what's happening, only told, which i think would quickly grow boring if it was longer and if the real point of the story wasn't derek's self hatred and how he fails to deal with it. that's the part of the story that isn't told, really - derek does think explicitly that he hates himself, but we're also seeing it in the way he talks and thinks about himself and the people around him

by contrast we have survival is a talent, which is obviously my longest fic. we're over 500k and we've got quite a bit to go

perspective doesn't just refer to character pov, but audience pov - are you being told a story, or are you experiencing the story? this is also tied into breathing room. there's no wrong way, i've done both and will do both, but one certainly requires more words than the other in my experience

siat is told only through draco and harry's perspective, but it's all happening in real time. the audience is being taken along for this story. the thing is that that things in real life don't all come tumbling one after another, not all questions have immediate answers. when depicting character growth and a plot unfurling, i think it's really important to include breathing room to give the audience time to feel that growth and change. i'm stricter about this with siat than anything else i've written, probably sometimes to its detriment. i want you and the characters to have time to feel the effects of emotional revelations and plot hints. i want you to have the time to question and wonder about things the same way the characters do

one time a friend criticized the good place for including the portion where they were alive again on earth because it wasn't as interesting as being in hell, but i disagree. we needed that breathing room both to live with the effects of character growth of going through hell and to have time for the effects of their actions on the plot to settle before they moved forward again. i stopped watching agents of shield because we weren't given enough breathing room - there was never a chance to see the characters not in crisis, the world was always ending, ect. the alchemyst book series has the first like 3 books taking place over a day and a half. i got tired of it after that. there's no breathing room

a story where i gave up on the concept of breathing room was build your wings on the way down. i liked that fic, but i wanted it finished, and to do it with i think optimal pacing would have made it twice as long as it was. so i said screw it, avalanche time, everything is happening all at once right now. there's very little breathing room there, which i think doesn't work too terribly in part because everything is so urgent and everyone is stressed so not being able to catch you breath sort of fits

See Something Say Something did not need to be 215k, although i'm not at all complaining. i feel very happy with how i told this story. but the basic premise - sam getting his powers early, getting involved in the large hunter world secretly from his family, and dean feeling misplaced and worried about how much sam needs/wants him - could have been told a hundred different ways and all would have pulled it off, so to speak

i considered doing the the entire fic from dean's pov (as a sam girl i love his pov because all he thinks about is sam and he's so insane about it) which would have effectively cut out basically the first five chapters. i thought exploring the slow realization of what's going on purely from dean's pov, with the audience having not insight would have been really interesting, just like what I did in dumb luck or good ghost with dean slowly figuring out that sam didn't die in the crash. another thing is the inclusion of all the side characters which i did to make the world feel rich and real, but we didn't need all these outsider povs to get the basic point across. very rarely is something vital being conveyed by an outsider pov, but it reinforced and adds to the main characters. i also initially didn't have wincest, which obviously added a ton of words. i loved exploring dean's self hatred and fear and sam's obliviousness, but bringing them to a place of ignorance to acceptance to happiness is a lot longer of a journey than just dealing with dean's propriety love as an unhinged co-dependent older brother. again, i'm sticking by all these choices, i made them because i thought it was the best way to the tell the story i was most interesting in telling, but my point is that you didn't need them to tell this particular story

it was also how i told the story. we spend a lot of time wallowing in character's emotions, especially dean's and sam's, but the others as well. part of this fic is convincing you that these two brothers should fuck, actually, and doing that effectively is going to take some time, especially at this point in their lives when things are pretty normal. comparatively, fucking your brother after starting the apocalypse is pretty small potatoes. i wanted you to understand these people, to feel what they were feeling, to not feel that it was inconceivable that jess would be willing to share her boyfriend with his brother, to buy all their relationships with each other in a way that isn't purely based on convenience

part of the reason i wrote dumb luck or good ghost before see something say something was that i felt i needed a firmer grasp on who the characters are before getting into who they were and who they could be - especially john, who i feel is exceptionally difficult to write without over excusing his actions or over villainizing them. the reason john doesn't get a single pov in see something say something is that while he's a motivating and underlying factor in much of the story, the story isn't about him. it's about the effect he has on those around him, and i didn't want to sully the pureness of that effect by introducing his internal dialogue, regardless of how persecutionary or absolving it would be. it's just not about him. it's how he responds to others and how they respond to him in turn

anyway! this is another example of something ending up longer than expected, but yeah. the plot of see something say something didn't change much from posting of the first chapter and my stories rarely do - i have plot points in siat that have been there since i posted the first chapter that are still relevant and happening. "harry and draco just. cut dumbledore's fucking hand off" my beloved

[hazymoonlinh]

Special ring

A draft I have saved for a whole month bruh

Pure fluff

(Phainon x reader)

In conclusion, he bites you.

The two of you were sitting under a tree on a quiet evening, the battlefield far behind for now. Phainon leaned back against the trunk, the sun painting golden hues on his face as he looked at you. There was a calmness to the air, a stillness that begged for conversation to fill it.

Out of nowhere, he asked, “What’s your take on marriage? And love?”

You blinked, a little startled by the question. “That’s…random,” you said, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

Phainon chuckled lightly. “Is it? I’m just curious.”

You rested your chin on your knees, the breeze tugging at your hair. “Hm…I don’t know,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “I don’t think I really trust it.”

That response caught his attention. His brows furrowed, his playful demeanor replaced with genuine curiosity. “You don’t trust it? Why’s that?”

You stared at the ground, your fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. “Well…because I grew up in an environment where marriage wasn’t about love. It was a transaction. A way to trade power, secure alliances, or gain something. Most of the marriages I saw didn’t have love in them at all.”

Phainon’s expression softened, though there was a flicker of surprise in his blue eyes. He stayed silent, letting you continue.

“It’s like…love wasn’t part of the equation at all.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the open air. “So…I guess I just don’t think I’ll ever have love. And I don’t think anyone would ever love me.”

Phainon’s eyes went wide at that. He sat up straighter, his full attention on you now. “Huh? Why would you think that? You could always try, you know that, right?”

You looked away, embarrassed by his sincerity. “I…haizz…I seriously don’t know. Maybe I’m scared.”

“You think you’re unlovable?” he continued, his voice softening. “Well, you’re wrong. If anything, you’re one of the most lovable people I’ve ever met. You’re kind, brave, and—hell, you’ve put yourself on the line for people who don’t even deserve it. You’ve got a heart bigger than most, even if you’re scared to show it.”

Your breath hitched, his words cutting through the doubts you’d carried for so long.

“And as for marriage or love?” he added, his signature grin finally returning. “Well, if you don’t trust it, I’ll just have to convince you otherwise, won’t I?”

You stared at him, stunned by his confidence and warmth. He smirked at your reaction, leaning back against the tree again. “So, what do you say? Give love a chance, duckling?”

For the first time in a long time, you felt a small flicker of hope. You nodded, the tiniest smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe.”

“Good,” Phainon said with a wink. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Phainon’s grin turned mischievous as he took your hands in his, holding them as though they were the most delicate things in the world. You blinked, startled by the sudden shift in his mood, and before you could question it, he brought your hand to his lips.

The soft press of his kiss on your knuckles sent a jolt through you, your breath catching. But then—without warning—he popped your ring finger into his mouth.

Your eyes widened as his teeth grazed against your skin, the sensation both strange and electrifying. He bit down just enough to leave a faint mark, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. His playful smirk grew as he pulled your hand back.

“This’ll do it for now,” he murmured, his voice a low hum.

You gawked at him, completely frozen, but he wasn’t done. In one swift motion, he tugged you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Before I find the perfect ring for you.”

Your brain short-circuited. Words failed you as a deep flush spread across your cheeks. “W-w-what? A ring? What are you talking about? You can’t just—what—Phainon!”

He leaned back, his expression utterly smug as he watched you stumble over your words. “Hmm? Something wrong, duckling? You’re looking a little…red.”

“Red? I’m not—no, you—you can’t just say things like that!” You clutched your hand to your chest, staring at the faint mark he’d left as if it were glowing. “A ring? Are you serious? Are you joking? What does this even mean?!”

Phainon chuckled, reaching out to gently tug at a strand of your hair. “Oh, I’m very serious. But don’t worry—I’ll give you time to process. I wouldn’t want you fainting on me.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, but that only seemed to amuse him further.

“Take your time, love,” he added with a wink. “We’ve got forever.” And he gives you a peck on your cheek.

[lolitastories]

Calls

Rafe Cameron

Part 1. Part 2.

After the very eventful evening Rafe kept me at arms length. He eyes avoiding mine and when I try to touch him he takes a step back. He opened his passenger door and allowed me to get it. He drove in silence until we reached his house in Tanny Hill. He purposely went out to get food even though I told him I could wait for delivery. At that time he told me to take a shower and borrow some clothes. The wooden floor in his room was sending cold shivers all over my body. The yellow lights soften the feeling. I finished grabbing one of his boxers and a t- shirt and decided to wait on his bed. Suddenly I felt nervous again, what the hell was I doing in Rafe Cameron's room? Why the hell did I give him a handjob at the station?! Why the hell am I wearing his clothes? He has been so sweet and protective since I’ve met him but for god sakes I barely know this man. I do have to admit that I like when he looks at me, when he touches me, when he smiles at me and just recently, when he kisses me. “Did you leave the door unlocked?” I nod innocently. Seeing him walk into his room like nothing with a bag of take out and casually acting like we have done this a millions times was alarming. How he begins to order out plates and just rambles on. “You’re a detective with a man on the loose, you don’t see what's wrong here?” I give him a simple shrug crossing my leg on the other. I hold back a grin loving how well he looks in his black shirt and especially with my badge around his neck.

“You need to stop taking my badge.” He paused as he looked up to me , fazed.

“Beauty I am telling you something important,” He was doing it again, he was demanding me. “You’re a smart girl but some of your decisions are questionable.” He scoffs, removing his eyes and focusing back to his last action. His rambling became background noise. He didn’t even notice when I started to crawl towards him. I pushed the plates a little further allowing me to sit on the edge of the bed with him between my legs. My hands slowly crawled up and down his chest. “That guy could have followed us and seeing as I had left he could have-” My fingers grabbed my badge and used it to lean him forward.

“Rafe?” He hummed sucking in my voice. “I was thinking about you in the shower,” I look at with doe eyes hoping to get him to do something. “Thinking how well we could fit in there together-”

“Stop,” His head falls as he lets out a groan. “I need you to behave tonight,” What? This guy has been chasing me for months and telling me dirty things every time he speaks and now he doesn’t want me? “Listen,” He must have seen the less than happy expression on my face. “As much as I want to fuck you into the mattress and do ungodly things to you I can’t.”

“Why not?” I let out a whine. My hands clawing up until they wrap around his shoulders.

“Because I want to do this right.” I tilt my head in confusion. “I want to take you out on a date and probably fuck you that night because my self control can only go so far,” I chuckle. I took in a deep breath seeing how he was trying to fight his demons. “It took a lot to not fuck you back there but I thought back to my promise,”

“What promise?” My hand moves down his shoulders and up until I cup his face.

“I know you have or will hear stories about me but I want you to know I have changed. I want to do this properly with you. Start off with a date because you deserve that. Take it as slow as you want because I really do want us to happen.”

“You do?’ My voice was laced with teasing but I was genuinely touched once again by his words.

“Yes,” He smiled, placing a kiss on my lips. “So I promised myself that I would do right by you. So you don't regret giving me a chance.”

“Oh, I know I won’t Rafe.” For the first time we shared a kiss not fueled by desire. One that we shared the same breath. Where we felt every curve of our lips. The caring and warmth of us. I had a huge smile when we pulled apart. “So,” My fingers were messing around with the cold golden badge.

“Yeah?” He hummed with a smile.

“We got on a date and then you fuck me?” I said it so seriously I almost believed myself.

“If that is what you want.” He followed along. “You’re the one who has been avoiding me and pushing me away so after the date you will decide,” He pulls away, moving to the end of the bed to organize the plates again. I crossed my arms letting out an annoyed sigh.

“That was because until recently, you annoyed me. Coming around the station and finding me out with my friends, plainly stalking me.”

“It's a small island!” I let out a laugh getting back to my old spot. I watch him grab our plates and walk over to the other side of the bed. “Plus if you didn’t like it you could’ve gotten a restraining order?” I raised an eyebrow knowing he knew what would happen with that order.

“For Mr. Big, Owns Half Of The Island And I Am Sure He Owns The Station Now,” I have to make a note to actually check on that. “Cameron, he would ditch the order.”

“Damn straight,” I grabbed the plate he was handing me. I hit his shoulder when he pulled himself to sit against his headboard.

“You’re so stupid,” I hear his chuckle as we both dig into our food.

“Stupid for you,”

“Eww you weirdo,” We laugh as I pull away. At that moment I wondered why it took me so long to give this guy a chance. This weird, protective, love that he is obsessed with me man.

“Truth,” We had finished eating while watching a random show on Netflix, when Rafe decided to mute the tv and lay his head on my lap. He crossed his arms over his chest like a mummy and requested we play truth or dare.

“How many boyfriends have you had?” I looked down seeing how serious he was waiting for my answer.

“One,” I proudly say. My finger moved to massage his scalp.

“Really?” He smiles looking up through his lashes, amused. “Just one?”

“Why are you surprised? How many have you had?” He shakes his pointer finger.

“It's not my turn yet.” I roll my eyes not wanting to argue. It wasn’t part of the rules either for him to continue asking me questions but here I was giving in. “How old were you?”

“I had just entered my teenage years.” The only boy around who caught my attention.

“First time?” I shake my head.

“I was crazy about him but not enough to not think straight.” He raised his brow slightly. “4 years of being on and off until he finally enlisted without telling me and since then I haven’t heard from him.” I was smart but back then I was a teenage girl too. I used to think we would move from highschool sweethearts to being married and eventually start a family together. That I had gotten lucky with the first boy I actually took time picking out. “He does come to mind on certain nights. Sometimes when I am back home with my friends or when I find myself alone in the night, the stars bring him back.”

“Nope,” he said, waving his hand around to interrupt my thinking.. I look down at him confused. “Forget I ask. I don’t need you thinking of him like that.” I laugh, finding his slight jealous tone adorable. “I hope he got shot in war.”

“Rafe what the fuck?!” He looked back at me with a blank expression like he said nothing wrong. “Don’t say shit like that,”

“Why? Because you hate thinking he might have died and you didn’t get a chance to tell him you still think of him?”

“You started this. Don’t get mad at me,” Like a little kid he crossed his arms and focused his eyes at the ceiling. “Rafe?” I say more calmly. I move forward to block his view but he only turns his head towards the wall. “You can’t get mad for something you started.” He slowly groans, still not looking at me. I grin moving closer to his ear and placing a kiss. “He is my faint past, not my present.” I place another kiss just below his ear, on his jaw. I watch his eyelid closed slowly, his head twisting towards me as I lead him with kisses. “Still mad?” I whisper hovering over his lips.

“Fuck yeah,”

“Hmm,” I move close enough to graze his lips and our noses together. “What can I do?” I bit back a laugh seeing him desperately lift his head, chasing a kiss but I pulled back. “What a kiss?” He obediently nods letting out a deep sigh.

“Yes ma’am.” With no second to spare my lip met him. A soft whisper of a touch. My lip parting, our breath mingling together. Once again the time slowed, the only sound was a gentle hum of our bodies. My fingers tracing the curves of his jaw as we continued kissing. So smooth a soft, leaving me breathless when I pulled away. I watch his eyes flutter open and I offer him a smile which he reciprocates.

“Truth or Dare?” I whisper, earning a quick chuckle from him.

“Dare-” We both jump with the sudden sound of my phone ringing.

“Shit.” I stretch my body over reaching for my phone on the nightstand. “Hello?” Rafe had already sat up allowing me to scoot out of bed and rush over to my clean clothes. I mentally thank Rafe for putting them in the wash before he left to pick up the food.

“Sergeant pushed the warrant for his house but we only have the rest of the 24 hours to question him.” okay.

“That gives me all night then.” I start placing on my shoes while holding the phone with my chin. “Julie leave the paperwork on my desk and take the night off,”

“But-”

“You do enough Julie, go get some rest.” I could sense her uncertainty from the other side of the phone but later on she agreed. “I will see you in the morning.”

“Yes detective.” I hear the dial end and I let go, making the phone hit the ground.

“Fucking shoelaces,” I whisper tying my shoes once more. “Rafe?” I look up, finding him sitting on the edge of the bed with his shoes already on and the keys in his hand.

“Get in the car before I decide to tie you up,” We both stood up at the same time. I couldn’t look away from his predator eyes. I took a step back every time he took one forward.

“Kinky.”

“That's the only way I see you being away from the station for at least one night,” he completely ignored my comment.

“I promise the night you get to tie me up I will take a whole day off,” He finally catches up and stands towering over me.

“The day I tie you up, you will need more than one day.” Fucking chills.

[sarroth]

Christian’s aren’t going to like hearing this, but their organized religion is an easy step stone to cult. Too many churches portray the pastor not as someone who is sharing their interpretation of the Bible but as *the* interpretation, because evidently God would not allow the pastor to misrepresent anything to the churchgoers, nevermind the tremendous history of church leaders being grifters. [Which is not to then say most church leaders are grifters, just to say that this history should teach people to remain skeptics]. Couple this with the refusal to acknowledge that the Bible wasn’t originally written in English or Greek or Latin and so things could have been misinterpreted along the way [insert another argument of ‘but God wouldn’t allow that, he’d make sure the translators of his word made no errors and didn’t insert their personal views at all because God never allows mistakes or bad things to happen…’]. Then of course there’s the whole honor-thy-father Commandment which so often gets interpreted as ‘Never contradict them ever because honoring someone means not correcting them and educating them when they get something wrong,’ which so often gets extended to honor-anyone-in-authority-or-who-is-older-than-you-and-so-don’t-contradict-them-either. Combined, you get ‘What I am told is literally God’s Honest Truth and I not only shouldn’t question it, but I don’t need to!’

I’ve also never been a fan of the memorized prayers that congregations then say altogether, ritualistically. I’ve never been to a church where this practice doesn’t take what would sound like a soulful call to God and turn it into a soulless chant, devoid of any of the feeling it should have given that it’s being recited by a crowd of, presumably, mostly believers. I would instead choose to say the prayers to myself, where I can do it at my own pace and with the proper emotional resonance the lines deserve.

I love the good things Christians can do and have done and are doing. I am Christian, though I so often find myself churchless. But the whole system is so problematic and ripe for abuse.

The lack of self-awareness is truly astounding.

[manlvrr]

I hate the CaitVi Sex scene

Everytime I see someone thirsting after the scene and gushing about how it's so hot, I feel so disgusted and ticked cause of how the scene came about and where it's located.

Before we get onto my rant about the scene itself, I want to mention the CaitVi scene that happened before that.

"She saved your life!"

"If you will just calm down for on-"

If you will just calm down for once? Hypocrite. Caitlyn's allowed to be pissy, allowed to call Zaunites animals (oh, "except" Vi though) and then fight like an animal by biting Sevika—

Sidenote:

That's also another scene I don't find hot at all. Any time I see it, I can't focus on how attractive Sevika is when she's smug (even though she totes is). All I can focus on is how Caitlyn bit Sevika. I don't remember who pointed it out, if it was on Tumblr or TikTok which I have promptly deleted since the ban, but someone pointed out that Caitlyn is fighting dirty—like a Zaunite. Caitlyn was backed into a corner, so she fought like an animal.

Fuck her.

I guess now she can somewhat understand why Zaunites fight the way they do. When you're backed into a corner, feeling helpless, feeling desperate, you fight like it and she did the same exact same thing she judged them for.

Bastard.

Lol can you tell I'm feeling bitter over her character?

Back to OG rant

—biting Sevika, gas the undercity and harshly interrogate someone who was a victim of Jinx's shenanigans, hit Vi for trying to calm her down from her grief driven rage, but oh, no Vi must calm down even though she's barely angry compared to when Caitlyn's angry. Not to mention that Caitlyn throws a tantrum herself and throws the tiny figure in her hand to the ground.

"—since you don't trust her enough not to shove her in a box."

Can we please take note of the tremble in Vi's voice when she says that? 'Oh, Jinx brought back her trauma from being in Stillwater!1!2!1' First of all, shut up. Second of all, yeah. . . So did Caitlyn?? Caitlyn may not have known what to do with Jinx, but the option for her to let Jinx go to prison was there and Vi hated it.

"Cait, she's changed."

"We can't erase our mistakes. None of us."

All the while not doing any time of her own for the crimes she committed—and no, I'm not talking about her gassing the undercity. What she did as a dictator, letting Noxians take over, and hardly doing anything afterwards even though she caused so much pain and misery to both Piltovians and Zaunites goes unpunished. Her losing an eye is nothing compared to the fear many people will feel while living under a dictatorship.

Get the guillotine!!

"Who decides who gets a second chance?"

Exactly. Caitlyn did no better than Jinx. She knows it too. It tears her up inside—as it should!!! Besides, did she think Jinx wasn't going to eventually get out of Stillwater? Or was one of her options to let Jinx rot there until she died? Yeah, I'm sure your girlfriend would love that.

Now, let's get to the scene itself!

But first let me talk about what happened right before that—

Vi tries to get Jinx on her side, Jinx rejects her, and Vi watches her sister leave while being told by her that Vi "deserves to be happy" and not to "worry about her anymore".

Yikes.

People say that what happened next with Caitlyn was Vi "finally being selfish", but it just feels wrong to me. Don't get me wrong, Vi deserves to enjoy herself after everything that's been done to her; however, you aren't going to have normal, healthy, healing sex right after seeing a loved one leave you for good.

Trust me lol I've had enough grieving/traumatic experience to know that you can feel upset for hours and won't immediately be able to get into a happy mindset even if you find something to entertain yourself with. You can have people try to cheer you up and you feel a bit better, but you still feel that lingering horrible feeling inside that will eat at you for who knows how long. You could give me Steb wearing the cutest little red panties I have ever seen in my life and I'd still be sad while trying to eat him out. You need to give me that like a day or so AFTER my little breakdown cause I won't enjoy it right after crying about losing my sis.

Sidenote:

Someone please remind me to draw that.

It would take at least an hour for Vi to get back to normal with the way she was reacting. At least. Vi was in that cell for who knows how long, but she was still upset and rather vulnerable when Caitlyn found her. No doubt she needed more time to get herself together.

Okay, now, let's get to the scene itself!!!

Bro, don't fuck me while I'm crying unless I'm crying cause I'm laughing too hard or because of sexy overstimulation. Fuck me? Nah, fuck you.

"I choose wrong every time—and because of it. . . I've lost everyone."

"Did you really think I needed all the guards at the HexGates?"

SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT AWWWWWUUUPPPPPPP—anyway,

Your girl is clearly upset, grieving her lost relationship with her sister (and likely other loved ones shes lost like Vander/Warwick), feeling guilty, and clearly not in any type of good mood yet your first reaction is to smirk???? You think this is funny?? Now is not the time to tease, Ms. Dumbass.

Vi needs compassion and reassurance not. . . Whatever that was. Yes, showing that you knew all along and didn't do anything to stop her shows that you do care for her, but it also isn't what she needs. Caitlyn did not reassure her that Vi wasn't going to lose her so easily.

Mainly because if she did, that'd be a lie, but that's neither here nor there.

"Sorry to say, you've grown a bit predictable."

Girl, you are not sorry. Quit lying. I can smell the smoke coming off your pants, but I'm not getting the fire extinguisher.

Again, this isn't what Vi needs. Any therapist would be able to tell you that you should seek healthier coping mechanisms other than sex. Does cuddling not exist? Does making out and then putting a stop to it because you realize your girl is not in the right state of mind for this exist??? Seeking sex after feeling so vulnerable and horrible about yourself is in no way, shape, or form okay. Shit isn't cute.

Caitlyn, you are more of an animal than you realize.

"Listen! While you were gone, I. . . Saw someone."

All of a sudden you realize that you should stop things because you feel guilty, but that guilt isn't over letting your girl go down on you after being upset and grieving, but about. . . Having another girl while she was gone???? Girl, seriously, your priorities are wack.

She does hesitate for a moment once she sees VI's injury (I can't remember where the injury came from. I stg if it came from Caitlyn or whatever Caitlyn ordered her to do. . .) yet she continues on. There are multiple reasons why they shouldn't do it right then and there, but Caitlyn is so horny she lets Vi pleasure her.

The reasons:

1. Vi is not in the right place of mind, she just lost her sister. Please let her grieve.

2. That is a jail cell. After what happened to her, their first time should be somewhere comfortable. Vi deserves comfort. She deserves to be spoiled. You're in Piltover, Caitlyn has a mansion with a really good bed, but your first fuck is in a dirty jail cell??

3. That is a jail cell that contained her sister. Vi can't reclaim shit about having sex in a jail cell if it's a cell that contained her sister. If there was better writing, she'd feel guilty over having sex in the cell she lost her sister. Her guilt isn't going to immediately go away because of one fuck. That's not how it works. Wish it was, but it's not.

Can I also note that Vi is the one pleasuring Caitlyn and not the other way around? Maybe Vi prefers to eat out rather than be eaten, but I think it just speaks more to her always servicing others rather than servicing herself or being serviced. If the sex scene was gonna happen, at least show Vi being completely selfish and enjoying herself by showing Cait be the one to kiss her down to her coochie. Maybe she's a stone top, but she gives off switch vibes to me.

Fuck you, Cait. Always wanting things to benefit you.

(If it was me, I'd eat Vi out, but, again, that's neither here nor there. . . She's not even in my top favs. I just want the best for her cause I hate Caitlyn lol.)

"I'm feeling fantastic."

FUCK YOUUUU

Okay *drops mic* , rant over

[hookedonhuge]

make a story with a lot of bloating and belches please

Here we go! Ended up putting in more effort than planned, haha. Aches and Gains: What the hell… where am I? Who are all these huge men walking around? Oh that’s right, the gym. I was working out wasn’t I? Yeah, my muscles feel really sore, must have been a killer workout. Pushing myself to my absolute limit, what a legend I am.

Who is this? Someone waving. Oh they are worried. Don’t worry, haha, I’m fine. UURRP! I just take this place seriously, that's all. Needed a quick rest. Vision’s still a little blurry but I’m getting there.

Now where was I? Just finished a set or did I finish my whole workout? Yeah I’m so sore I must be done. Especially my abs, they are really tight. I guess it was a core day. BUURRP! Oh that feels much better. I can get up now.

Whoo! I’m starting to feel alive again. Let's check out my pump in the mirror. Bet I’m looking real huge today. This shirt is kinda hard to get off, it’s so tight. Must be a crazy pump. Ah, there we go!

What the?! I’m freakin’ huge but… why have I lost so much definition?! My belly is so damn bloated! That’s okay, just my protein shake kicking in. No problem. Damn, look at the pecs on me though! Jealous of these bad boys, losers? Hahaha! King of the gym today. UUURRRP! I was already big and now I’m even bigger! URP!

I keep belching. Kinda weird but it relieves the pressure in my belly. I just need to get it all out, and find my abs again, haha. BUUUUURRRRRP! What are they all looking at? Goddamn greatness, that’s what. Oh don’t give me that pissy look staff, this place might as well be mine anyway.

I still haven’t relieved all the pressure in my gut. Aaaahhh! It hurts so much. UUURRRP! It’s like I’m inflating. I can’t get it out quick enough. BUUUURRRRP! Yeah, I know everyone, I don’t want to burp this much, okay. Geez. Everyone is on my case today. Oh great, now a staff member is coming up to me. This is unbelievable, I haven’t done anything wrong. Oh… my protein shake. Yeah guess I left it back there. Thanks. URRPP!

That cleared some room for a bit more protein shake. Bottoms up. Tastes so good. I’m so hungry too. Can’t stop myself from chugging it all. UUUUUUURRRRRRRP! That hit the spot. Hope y’all can smell that, it reeks of stale protein, hahaha. Deserve it for being so judgy.

God! I can feel myself getting bigger. Yes! I’m growing so much, so huge. My gut though… I look like I’ve eaten a five-course meal… twice. Aaaaaahhhhh! So much pressure… need to get it out… now! 

BUUUUUUURRRRRRRAAAAAAAPPP!

Looks like I caught someone with that point blank. Looks like they might pass out too. Hey, want another one? UUUURRRRP! Hahahaha! Take this! BUUUUURRRRRP!

WOW! Just caught myself in the reflection and damn! I’m so big, I’m jealous of myself. Look at these huge guns. Boom! This chest keeps getting bigger too. And my back, chef’s kiss. So goddamn wide and perfect! Legs looking thick too! I’m such a beast, let's go! Who cares if I’ve got a big, bloated belly. Bigger is better right. I’d take it any day with these gains. BUUUURRRRAAAAP!

I’m starting to get used to these burps. Feels so nice when I let them out. Like a lion’s roar. So manly. UUUUUUURRRRRRRAAAAAAAP! Is this too disgusting for all of you? Well bad luck. BUUURRRP! I’ve got a lot more coming! BAAAAUUUURRRRP! Let me show you all what a beast like me sounds like…

BWWWWWWOOOOOOUUUUUURRRRRRAAAAAAUUUUUUPPP!

Hahahahaha! This entire gym reeks now! Oh look here, we have a big, strong man coming up to start a fight. I’m the king of this gym, okay bro. Wait, not looking for a fight. Complimenting me? Hell yeah! This big guy gets it. New gym buddy right over here. What’s this? A protein shake. Thanks bro, I actually feel like I need another one.

This is UURRP unbelievable, how BUURRP can a protein OOUURRP taste so damn UURRP good? What has BOOOUUUURRRP he put in this UUURRRP thing? No seriously what is in it? Nevermind. Just a bro helping another bro out by giving him some fuel.

Time to leave. Not sure if this gym can handle me for much longer. This employee at the reception looks pissed, haha. Well I’m gonna tell him what’s on my mind.

BUUUURRRRP-OOOOUUUURRRRAAAAAP-BWWWWWOOOOOUUUUURRRRRP!

Don’t think I’ll need to pay to get in anymore.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello Dorito!

Can you please write Bruce, Dick, Jason and Clark receiving a good luck kiss on the cheek from their crush before they go on a mission? I’m curious how they would individually react and what their thoughts would be. I thought it would be cute if it was pre relationship for some reason (*'ω'*)

Dick

The moment you kiss his cheek, dick just smiles softly.

‘What was that for?’ He’d ask, his thoughts going a mile a minute as to what this all meant in the long run of your relationships as he knew damn well friends didn’t kiss each other on the cheek…well unless they were close like that, but Dick typically knew it wasn’t and wanted answers before he left for the mission.

‘Good luck?’ You shrug.

‘Just good luck?’ Dick would tease, but on the inside he was hop in that this was going where he was thinking it was going, hoping he wasn’t reading anything you were putting down wrong as he didn’t want anything to be misconstrued or misinterpreted. He wanted this moment for so long and wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to having something worth coming home to; or someone worth coming home to after a long and intense mission.

Dick would look like he was confident and whatnot but on the inside he was more happier then he’s ever been in his entire life. He wanted to shout to the rooftops that he had been kissed on the cheek by the person he liked, but instead decided to play it cool and try to work his charisma into his favour with you in hopes of a date. He’s done being coy and dropping hints, the kiss on the cheek had to mean something to you as it did with him.

Jason

Blinks several times as his brain tries to accept that you did just kiss him on the cheek.

He reaches up to touch the cheek you kissed lightly as his insides were waging war with one another, he was glad that you made a move first as now Jason knew you had some liking towards him, especially if you were willing to go out of your way to kiss his cheek before he leaves for a mission.

This felt like something he had read out of many, many, many books that he never thought he himself would ever experience in his lifetime, and yet here he was being kissed on the cheek by the person who he had a raging crush on that felt like it came straight out of a movie. He’s aware of his crush on you, insanely so, but when you kissed his cheek he didn’t know whether it was with platonic or romantic intentions.

Jason wanted so badly for it to be romantic, his heart yearned for it like he yearned for you as long as he had, trying not to show just how he melted like putty in your touches and general affection towards him. Other people try to touch him and he hisses at them, but you? You could hold his cheeks and he’d be fighting to need to close his eyes and melt into your hands, feeling safe enough within your presence to do so then he ever had anyone else in a long, long time.

He knew he was fucked the moment he realised that he didn’t want to push you away but pull you in close. Jason knew he was fucked but in that moment he didn’t care because a life of love with you was a risk he was willing to to take, after all he was deserving of a sweeter aspect of life then the one he was already given.

Clark

Feels his cheeks burn as he rubs the back of his head, the feel of your lips still very much lingering on his skin.

The kiss was soft, it was sweet and innocent but it was enough to have Clark becoming a little flustered and a bit sheepish in looking you in the eye, but he managed to do so and it was obvious by the look in his eyes that it was something that would affect his mind for a long while; even when you were long from view you’ll still be in the forefront in his mind.

His voice was caught in his throat but his mind was filled to the brim with all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t, for as soon as you kissed his cheek and wishing him luck, you were already out of his line of sight with a knowing smile graced upon your lips upon your exit.

Clark knew that he’d have to have some words with you when he gets back, but until then he could only assume that you were both on the same page without having to speak words to one another, the attraction was clear but would need to be communicated clearly sooner or later.

Clark could only hope he wasn’t the only one feeling something between the two of you, he was hopeful that he wasn’t when you placed your hand on the s symbol on his chest and looked at him the way you did.

Bruce

Doesn’t show much change visibly but his eyes do shine in amusement and his posture seemed to straighten a little more, only the keenest of eyes would’ve seen that he had also leant into your lips when you kissed his cheek.

Bruce prided himself in being a well put together man, but the moment you kissed his cheek that collapsed in on itself, and he was left wanting nothing more then to ask for another kiss and so he did with a hint of mischief upon his tongue.

‘Do I get another one?’ He asks you.

You only shrug. ‘Only if you come back in one piece then you can have as many cheek kisses as you’d like.’

He may have made an entire playboy persona for public outings and such, but in that moment he felt like a teenager with their first crush again, wanting nothing more then to ask Alfred if engaging in a relationship with you was worth the risks. He is a smart man and knew what he wants and yet while he knew what he wanted, he couldn’t claim to know what you want and didn’t want to assume on your behalf when you didn’t say anything of substance.

Bruce knew that something was different between the two of you -outside of him having a crush on you of course- and knew that once he gets back to Gotham he’ll have to strike while he still could in hopes that you’d allow him to treat you right, and allow him to spoil you rotten once in a while, and keep you safe should you all him to have your heart by taking you on a date to your favourite place.

[yogsandchaos]

Been a bit and definitely nothing has happened so I'm gonna...

7. Mental health should be taken seriously, but be wary of when it's used to distract from real issues. The fact someone did a bad thing should not be forgotten even if the results have hurt them. Instead facts like "no one deserves an internet witch hunt and death threats" along with "even still you did a really bad thing" can and should both be taken equally. At the same time though, give people at least some grace when it's brought up and don't immediately assume it's a distraction. It very likely feels important to the person bringing it up and like it's worth mentioning especially when in those headspaces. TLDR Don't be guilted, don't let guilting go unchecked, but don't inherently assume guilting was intentional and not just a poor decision made earnestly

8. People are inherently biased towards their own favor and view of events. If someone genuinely believes themselves to not have done something wrong, insisting on that is not gaslighting or anything, it's simply a different perception. Someone can be wrong without doing it on purpose, in fact this can be rather common. Don't take defensiveness and reframing as a sign of guilt, that's just how humans work.

9. Everyone involved has more information then you, random person on tumblr, it's good to get both sides, but do not presume you know everything, no one is ever 100% completely right about everything on a developing situation. You do not know these people's, you do not know the full extent of whats going on, they are not your friends. I understand the defensiveness, but you gotta remember this isn't your beef. Form your own opinion yes, but be aware that facts can change and that the truth is usually a bit more complicated then you might hope.

10. Cancel Culture is much more complex then just "100% good" or "100% bad" it's a hard to control tool that can have severe consequences, but like all tools it depends on the use and applications. Be careful on how you use it, and be understanding when people speak out about how dangerous and potentially life threatening it can be. Don't feed flames that don't need to be fed and especially don't misuse it as an excuse to be vicious towards whoever is on the weekly chopping block.

11. People can be wrong and support someone they shouldn't, this isn't a reason to immediately condemn them and cut them away as helpless, but a reason to learn more about why and their own opinions. It's an invitation for discussion, not an immediately burned bridge. Nuance good! Especially don't expect people to immediately cut off people they were close friends with for long periods of time, even if it turns out they were wrong about them, people wanna defend their friends and family, especially with how violent cancel culture can get.

12. The best thing you can do about an unfolding situation like this is to let the actual people involved settle things and do the arguing and fighting and stuff, and to simply stay somewhat informed and double checking that the information is correct. Like, make memes and jokes, but don't take it upon yourself to try and get actually involved, you'll just make things messier and more confusing with how fast disinformation can spread. Screenshots can be faked, deepfaking is a lot easier these days, I'm not saying to not believe everything ever, just, remember to further check things.

13. SENDING DEATH THREATS IS ILLEGAL, DO NOT SEND THREATS, YOU'RE GOING TO GET IN TROUBLE IF YOU SEND ANYONE DEATH THREATS OR JUST THREATS, ESPECIALLY IF THEY ALREADY HAVE LAWYERS INVOLVED IM CHOOSING TO BELIEVE MOST PEOPLE WOULD NOT DO THIS, BUT FOR THAT LIKE 2% THINKING ABOUT HOW FUNNY IT WOULD BE, YOU CAN GET IN A LOT OF TROUBLE DO N O T .

14. Don't call people narcissists or psycho, or anything, I know that's asking a lot, but at least try not to be ableist about this. The word you want is not narcissist, it's "manipulator." It's scummy to immediately assume anyone who does anything bad has to have "bad person disorder" something that does not, and never has existed.

15. Remember people who hurt others or do bad things are very rarely giant supervillains pulling the strings with dozens of scripts and plans to manipulate and twist everything. They're just a person, a person likely with some sense of entitlement. That's it. You don't gotta be a smart Machiavellian master villain to hurt someone or do something scummy. You just have to feel like you're owed something, you have been wronged somehow, or that you are an exception to something. Anyone can do that. It's basically never a big grand chessmaster plan, it's just a person who likely genuinely does not believe they did do anything wrong, or that whatever wrong they did wasn't actually what people are taking it as.

16. Continue to be nice and patient! Just, be nice, I cannot stress enough how much being nice and patient can make things easier to deal with when it comes to discourse. Like, do it for your own sanity at least, don't get in fights, or yell at people, or stay up to 3 am putting up a red string board. Be nice and patient.

17. Almost forgot, but just because one person is worse doesn't mean you shouldn't call out when the other is going too far. You're allowed to go "this person is bad, but i find this reaction or statement about it to be uneasy or uncomfortable" that's allowed, nuance nuance nuance. Someone can do something wrong about or to someone who has done harm, and the fact that they have done harm does not inherently mean you have to turn a blind eye to it.

The hermit community is pretty old so I probably don’t have to say this, but I know a lot of people in the fandom are young; but here’s a few tips from an old school yog fan

1. just because someone has left or did a bad thing, doesn’t mean you’re a bad person for enjoying the content, along with still wanting to watch that old content they did or were a part of

2. Just because someone has left or did a bad thing does not mean you cannot continue to make fan content. While it’s understandable if you don’t make more or remove art you have made, you are also not bad if you don’t. YouTube is all about collaboration and transformation. Fanart? Fanfic? Cosplay? That’s all transformative, you don’t have to stop making a new thing from the old thing. It’s fully in your right to do so, but it’s not required.

3. Do not harass people about whether they do or don’t make art or delete art, it’s transformative works and personal choice, the most you should do is ask for it to be tagged so it can be filtered.

4. Don’t harass the creators either, it’s clearly been handled and handled well. If this was a case of it being ignored for years by the company or group (COUGH SJIN YOGSCAST COUGH) then it would be more complicated, but it’s a solved issue. Don’t harass iskall or stress either

5. You are allowed to hold off on making a value judgment until you have more information. We don’t have a lot of information and things around kids media tend to be a lot more stricter then adults for what’s appropriate. so it could be a lot of different things of highly varying morality ranging from assault to a bad case of public intoxication that didn’t fit the child friendly brand of the Hermits. We don’t know. Especially about Stress her resignation and how it relates is a near total mystery right now.

6. Be kind to each other, and remember the people you watch are people, and people do dumb or fucked shit sometimes, it sucks, but these are just people, hopefully it’s something to be grown from by Iskall and not something life ruining, but let this remind everyone to not put people on pedestals as unproblematic. Every hermit has probably held an opinion or been a part of something you’d find distasteful, that’s just what it means to be human. It’s up to you to decide where your personal line is and your comfort levels on that stuff, and no one can make that choice for you.

[exilethegame]

i apologize in advance if this is too long and rambling lol. i just need to make you aware of the moral quandary i’ve found swimming around in my head all day. firstly, your book is amazing. i don’t think ive seen a writer capture my attention and also rip my heart into pieces so throughly (although, I, the Forgotten One is maybe tied with yours in my mind).

so, trystan and syfyn.

IRL i consider anyone who sits by as atrocities happen to be completely complicit and (sometimes) as equally as guilty as the perpetrator. your story makes my head spin as this is a stance i take very strongly and i struggle with hating syfyn and trystan. on one hand, my MC does hate them for things they’ve done (breaking his arm, holding him down while people essentially experiment on him, and even not really doing anything after finding out what happened to MC and learning that the queen is working with the “enemy”). other times, my MC can’t hate them for being a victim of circumstance, just as MC himself was (and is). my MC sees them for who they used to be, how their circumstances have shaped them, and how they may be punished for defying the crown but also can’t help but feel a personal and… maybe political betrayal? my MC, and me by extension, have been grappling with a couple questions: at what point does being a victim of circumstance no longer absolve someone of guilt? how many horrible things must someone do before their allies see that something must change? at what point does someone become just as guilty as the perpetrator because they refused to lift a finger either way? is it wrong to hate someone as a whole because of circumstances that, up to a certain point, were beyond their control? is it wrong to hate someone that follows a tyrant because they fear for their safety? what if it’s all they’ve ever known and they have no clear path forward without their leader?

i hope all of that made sense and don’t seem like the ramblings of a lunatic lol. i’m not very intellectual but these are just some things i’ve been thinking about as i gave your story another read last night and i was bursting at the seams to share my thoughts. like i said before, your story is beautiful. tragically beautiful, perhaps? i’m wishing you the best of luck in your work and personal life! and thank you so much for sharing this story with us; we don’t deserve it, but we will try to.

(also sorry if i misspelled trystan lol)

Ah no don't apologize!! I love discussions like this re. the characters, especially because pretty much all of them are morally questionable to one degree or another. It always makes me happy to hear when the game has made people start to think and worry about bigger moral questions like this :)

I think both Syfyn and Trystan definitely are intended to make that question be asked. And the game won't push a particular agenda either way re. if the Commander forgives/doesn't forgive, blames them/finds them to be victims, etc.

Of course, something I do think is fun that plenty of characters are wondering this very same question about MC, and the role they used to fulfill for Plaithus vs. what they are now, post-exile... 👀

Thank you so much for the kind words :)

[creatingblackcharacters]

hey so im sorry if im bothering you with this or youve already spoken about this before, but im afro-latino (Black + mexican) and i have naturally straight hair. its a lot thicker than a white persons hair obviously, but its never been super curly or coily or even wavy at all. seeing people say stuff like "Black people never have straight hair, drawing Black characters with straight hair is racist" really hurts. i have several OCs that have dark skin and straight hair like i do and im afraid that people will call me racist for them even though i just designed them to look similar to me because i rarely see actual representation of Black people with straight hair (outside of the "white person painted Black" characters like you talked about). i dont blame you at all for being upset when people only draw Black characters with straight hair, but it does hurt when i see stuff like "Black people never have naturally straight hair, drawing them that way is racist" because it makes me feel like im not allowed to call myself Black and im doing something wrong by drawing characters that look like me.

I hear you, and I get where you're coming from.

I've never said (afaik) Black people don't have straight hair. In fact, multiple times throughout my lessons I've said that we aren't a monolith, that it is completely possible for Black people to have thinner textures of hair (even though it is rarer!)

What I've emphasized is that a lot of the people drawing these Black characters with straight hair are not doing it for the sake of representation, but for the sake of ease and familiarity with eurocentric beauty standards. They are not entering with the intent of drawing Black characters with those features! Which, you said you saw me discuss in that lesson, and multiple times on my later lessons. And again, you're right! It should be done more thoughtfully! You deserve that!

I'm going to be honest, I think you are projecting your hurt onto me for things that you should be angry at those artists for. Because when I say Creating Black Characters with intent, that does include Black characters that look like you!

But even at specific times when it doesn't, your strength in your identity should not be shaken because I am emphasizing the importance of the depiction of others that may not look like you. If you're Black with straight hair, then you're Black with straight hair! Me emphasizing that we should see more effort into drawing Black people with thicker textures and unambiguous features more often (which is true) does not take that identity from you, nor does it mock your existence.

I'm sorry that my work caused you distress. I hope you continue to make your characters as you have, with the emphasis and care that you do. Because it is sad and annoying that people are approaching you without recognizing your work and your identity, ready to be performatively loud and wrong. Do it anyway.

[stylesispunk]

The soldier in the armour | part iv

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

summary: Acacius put his plan on march, starting by sending you away with a sealing promise of returning back to you, but you cannot bear the thought of him fighting alone, and some plans are destroyed.

wc: 7k (lazy)

warnings: angst, age gap, mentions of miscarriage, blood, violence against women, power imbalance, kissing without consent, mentions of death. The events of this chapter happen on the same night.

a/n: Sorry for being so lazy about writing and updating lately. I'm just a teacher on her summer break. This one will be intense. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

gift credit to the owner

"Hold my hand," Acacius said, extending his arm toward you. You were sitting by the fountain, feeding the fish. The last couple of days had been torture for you, and he wanted nothing more than to shower you with acts of love from the deepest part of his heart.

You looked up, your eyes meeting his. There was a softness in his gaze, a quiet determination that melted the tension in your chest. The cool breeze rustled the leaves above, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to pause.

Reluctantly, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch seep into your skin. He gave a gentle squeeze, as if trying to transfer some unspoken strength to you.

"Come," he whispered, his voice a balm against the chaos of your thoughts. "Let me take you somewhere…”

You hesitated, glancing back at the rippling water, watching the fish dart beneath the surface. But the pull of his presence was stronger. You stood, your fingers still entwined with his, and allowed him to lead you away from the weight of the past few days.

He led you through a narrow corridor you didn’t recognize, its walls lined with ivy that crept in through tiny cracks. At the very end, hidden behind a heavy wooden door, Acacius paused. He glanced back at you, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“No one else knows about this place,” he murmured, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “It’s just for us.”

He pushed the door open with a soft creak, revealing a hidden courtyard tucked away from the rest of the villa. It was small, intimate, overgrown with wildflowers and shaded by an ancient olive tree whose twisted branches reached out like protective arms. The air smelled of lavender and sun-warmed stone, and the only sounds were the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant song of cicadas at dawn.

Acacius turned to you, his expression softening. “I come here when I need to feel... whole again.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles, lingering. “And I thought maybe, just maybe, it could help you too.”

There was a strange tone on his voice, as if he was lingering to your presence before slipping away from you, but you decided to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"I know you're worried” you whispered, looking up at him to meet his gaze, smiling softly “but I’m gonna be fine. I’ll recover from this someday.”

“Can I confess you something?” He asked almost ashamed of the question

You nodded, inviting him to speak his truth.

"This is embarrassing for a general but I'm really scared."He confessed, “I…I have someone to lose this time"

Your breath hitched and sudden wave of anxiety crept into your bones.

"You won't lose me" you reassured, caressing his checks with your fingertips.

"From all the battles I fought. Falling in love with you came easily to me...I thought it was going to be difficult for a man like me to be deserving of someone like you.

"This sounds like a goodbye and I don't like that tone in your voice." You said, voice breaking at the thought.

“You know things could go wrong-“

“They will not.” You interrupted, reassuring him once again.

“Allowing myself to know you and love you has been the bravest thing I've ever done," he whispered, his voice trembling just enough for you to hear the depth of his fear, and his love.

Before you could respond, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you gently but urgently toward him. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, as if he were pouring every feeling inside on it, every hidden feeling into that single, breath-stealing moment. The world around you seemed to dissolve, the rustling leaves, the distant cicadas, all fading into the background as the warmth of his mouth ignited something deep within you.

Your heart raced, the anxiety still humming in the edges of your mind, but his touch grounded you, as always. You let your fingers trail through his hair, pulling him closer, as if anchoring him to this promise you both silently made.

You won't lose me. We won’t lose each other.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless, hearts pounding in the same rhythm, at the same time. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to memorize this moment, to etch it into his soul.

Then, without warning, he kissed you again, this time with a raw urgency that stole the air left from your lungs. His hands slid from your jaw down to your waist, gripping you as though he could mold your bodies into one. His fingertips dug into your skin, tracing every curve, every inch he could reach, as if committing the feel of you to memory.

You responded in kind, your hands roaming over his shoulders, his back, clutching at the fabric of his tunic like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. The heat between you was electric, a fire burning bright against the looming shadow of what was to come.

When he finally pulled back again, his breath was ragged, his lips lingering against yours for a fleeting second longer. His hands framed your face now, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks in contrast to the urgency of moments before. His gaze was heavy, filled with a thousand words he couldn’t seem to say.

He leaned in, pressing one lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin.

"My heart, my body and my soul belong to you in every lifetime." He whispered, nosing your neck, savoring the taste of your skin.

"My heart, my body and my soul belong to you in every lifetime. Since the day you saved me from the bathtub and sword you would love me." You whispered the same words back because you meant them.

He smiled against your neck, feeling his eyes watering already. For a man of a thousand battles these shows of affection tended to seen as a sign of weakness. But by your side he learnt about the vulnerability that it came when you loved someone.

You smelled like calm lavender, and your souls interviewed in an unbreakable thread destined to meet in every single lifetime.

You were his person; the best Rome had ever given him back for all the duty and sacrifice. It broke his heart to send you away.

He didn’t fear death anymore, but not seeing you again broke him.

Acacius helped you up, his strong arm supporting you, your heart still ached with the lingering sensation of his words, his love, his devotion. You walked together, the world outside the villa seeming quieter. His hand remained gently wrapped around yours.

When you reached back to the villa, the air felt heavy, as if something was waiting for you there. The grand doors opened to reveal Lucilla standing near the font, her hands trembling slightly as she stood motionless, her gaze distant. Her expression was clouded with worry, yet there was an undeniable sorrow in her eyes that you couldn’t ignore.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” you asked, stepping forward, concern flooding your chest as you glanced between her and Acacius.

Lucilla turned her head slowly, her eyes brimming with tears.

"They are here" she said, painfully ignoring your questions as she looked at Acacius.

"It's time" he said, painfully, avoiding looking at you for a moment, then he glanced at you "Look. They are some of my men. They are here to take you out-“

"I don't want to leave" you protested, coming to Lucilla, "Mother, please don't do this again. Come with me"

 You stepped back, your heart twisting painfully as you listened to Acacius, walking to your mother.

"I don't want to leave," you protested again, your voice trembling. You reached for her, the distance between you growing wider with every passing second. "Mother, please don't do this again. Come with me."

Lucilla’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and for a moment, she looked as though she might give in. But the sorrow on her face deepened, and she shook her head gently. "I cannot, my dear. I failed Lucius once." Her voice cracked as she spoke his name, a deep, haunting sadness settling over her. "I won’t fail you too. Not again."

You felt the sting of her words like a dagger in your chest. She was leaving you, just like she had left him. The memories of her absence in the darkest moments of your life, when you were fighting for survival, flashed before your eyes, and the thought of repeating that same pain was unbearable.

"So, you're failing me now?" you asked, the sharpness in your tone betraying the hurt you felt. Your breath was ragged as you held back tears, frustration and confusion bubbling up inside you.

Lucilla stepped forward, her hands trembling as she reached for you, but she stopped just short of touching you. "Oh no," she whispered, shaking her head. "I cannot bear the thought of losing you to this. If you're away, Geta won’t be able to use you as a tool against Acacius or me. I can't risk you being taken from me as he was."

The words stung, but in them, you realized the depth of her fear. She wasn’t abandoning you, she was trying to protect you, to keep you safe in a world where everything felt uncertain and dangerous.

"But I don’t want to be safe without you," you said softly, your voice breaking. "I can't go alone.”

Lucilla looked at you, her gaze softening for a brief moment, but the fear in her eyes remained. "I love you too much," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "And I can't watch you suffer here.”

Acacius stood behind you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. His presence was a steady anchor in the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. He knew how hard this was for you, but his silence spoke volumes. He understood what it meant to love and lose, and now, he was offering you something that felt like the only way forward.

Lucilla’s voice quivered as she took a step back, her hands clenched at her sides. "I cannot go with you... but I will wait for you here. And I will pray that one day you come back to me. That we both do."

You felt as though your heart was being torn in two—torn between the woman who had given you life and the man who had become your lifeline. The conflict swirled in your chest, but all you could do was nod, unable to find the right words.

"I love you," you whispered softly to her, your voice breaking as the tears finally fell.

Lucilla gave you a sad, bittersweet smile. "I love you too, my darling. Always."

You turned to Acacius, your heart sinking at the pained expression that crossed his face as his gaze shifted from you to the three men who had appeared in the distance. His posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing as they approached with purposeful strides.

The moment felt heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath. His soldiers had arrived. The plan was set in motion. The urgency of the situation weighed down on both of you, but there was something else, something unspoken in the way Acacius held himself. His pain, too, was palpable. As much as he had sworn to protect you, he knew what this moment meant. The time for goodbyes was closing in, and there was no turning back.

"Acacius..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you reached for his hand. But he stepped back slightly, his jaw tightening as his men neared.

He glanced over his shoulder at you, his eyes full of regret and determination. "You need to go. Now."

The men stopped in front of him, their faces unreadable but their posture betraying the tension of the moment. Acacius addressed them with a tone that brooked no argument, his voice firm but clipped.

"Prepare the horses," he commanded, and one of them nodded before heading off to carry out his orders.

You looked at Acacius, pain flickering in your chest as you realized that the next few moments would change everything. The world you had known was slipping away, and there was no going back to the life you had before.

"You’re leaving me, aren’t you?" you asked, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them.

Acacius looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but his gaze softened when he saw the hurt in your eyes. "No. I’m not leaving you." His voice was low and full of certainty, though there was a storm of emotions raging behind those words. "I’ll never leave you. But I need you to trust me now."

You nodded, though the uncertainty in your chest remained. His men were getting ready, and you knew that there was no time left to hesitate.

"Promise me you’ll come to get me back," you said quietly, the words more of a plea than a command.

Acacius stepped closer, his hand brushing the side of your face, his thumb tenderly tracing over your skin. "I swear," he said, his voice raw and filled with emotion. "I’ll come back for you. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure we’re together again."

The words were like a lifeline, but the storm of emotions raging in your chest made it hard to hold on to them. You wanted to believe him more than anything, but the world was so unpredictable, and you knew better than to expect anything in these dark times.

As Acacius turned to give orders to his men, you felt the weight of the world crashing down on you, the finality of this moment settling into your bones. You wanted to run to him, to beg him to let you stay, but you couldn’t, because deep down, you knew what he was doing was necessary.

This was bigger than the two of you.

Acacius cupped your face once more, his eyes soft but heavy with the weight of what was to come. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, one that spoke of promises and unspoken fears. His touch was tender, like it was the last thing he could give you before everything changed.

"Be safe," he whispered against your lips, his breath warm and full of urgency. "No matter what happens, remember that I will always love you."

Your heart ached as his words sank in, the depth of his devotion resonating through every fiber of your being. You nodded, though your throat tightened, unable to find the words to express what you felt. His love, his promise, were everything you had left to hold on to in this fleeting moment.

He stepped back slightly, his hand still resting on your cheek, and without another word, he helped you onto the horse. His movements were swift and precise, his touch strong but careful as he steadied you in the saddle. His gaze never left yours, filled with a quiet desperation, as though he could somehow will the situation to change with just his stare.

As he stood next to the horse, his hand resting on the reins, he gave a final, lingering look, as though imprinting you into his memory. Then, with a slow exhale, he spoke again, his voice filled with finality.

"Trust in me," he said, his eyes intense. "No matter what happens, trust that I will find a way back to you."

His men began to move in the background, preparing to take you away. Acacius placed one last kiss on your forehead, a soft, lingering touch that felt like it was marking the end of a chapter. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his presence, remained with you, even as he pulled away and nodded to his soldiers.

With a final glance, he stepped back, his face a mixture of sorrow and determination. His hand reached out toward you one last time, as if he wanted to pull you into his arms, to hold you just a moment longer. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

"Go," he said quietly, the word almost a command, but it carried so much emotion that it cut deep.

As the men took the reins of your horse and started moving you away, you cast one last look over your shoulder. Acacius stood there, still watching you, his face a mask of stoic resolve but his eyes betraying the pain that he had hidden behind his duty.

And then, as you were carried further away, the world around you began to blur. The sound of horses’ hooves pounding against the earth, the rustling of the wind, it all faded as you focused on the one thing that remained clear.

As the path beyond you seemed to haunt you, you tightened the cloak around your shoulders, its coarse fabric doing little to shield you from the chill that seeped into your bones. Every step away from the villa felt heavier and suffocating, each one pulling you farther from Acacius, your mother, and Lucius. The road stretched ahead, but your mind remained trapped in the past, tangled in memories and regrets.

You couldn’t shake the image of Acacius’s eyes, the way they softened when he looked at you, or the feel of his lips pressed against your forehead. The smell of lavender on his neck that seemed to lullaby you into sleep every time he wrapped his strong arms around you. Your heart ached thinking about your mother, her face etched with sorrow and strength as she pushed you to safety. And Lucius, your brother, the rightful emperor of Rome, forced to live as a slave under a name that was never his.

As Acacius's men guided you through the winding paths, the weight of your separation grew unbearable. You were being secured by Acacius’s army, hidden away from the dangers that loomed, but it felt more like a prison than protection. You were trapped in the middle of something larger than yourself, and the distance only amplified the helplessness curling in your chest.

Meanwhile, back at the villa, Acacius stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the direction you had disappeared. His heart clenched painfully, the hollow ache of your absence settling deep within him. A single tear escaped down his cheek, betraying the stoic facade he tried to maintain. The emptiness in his chest felt insurmountable, as if a piece of him had been torn away.

You were the Achilles heel on his life, he couldn’t bear the thought of you being away from his protection.

Lucilla, seeing the turmoil etched across his face, stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong, like her father” she whispered, her voice steady despite the tears glistening in her own eyes. “And you will find your way back to her.”

Acacius’s jaw tightened, his hand coming to rest over Lucilla’s in silent acknowledgment. The touch sent shivers down his spine; it wasn’t love but understanding. The both of you letting go your heart away.

His eyes never wavered from the path you had taken, his heart silently vowing that no matter what, he would find you again.

Beneath the cloak, you knew you hadn’t far away from the villa. Just one bold movement and you could go back.

There was a weight that became heavier to bear. Acacius would risk his life to free an empire from its tyranny, and perhaps the power would go back to your family while your mother would get stuck in the middle and Lucius real identity would display.

Suddenly, the weight of it all became unbearable. Without thinking, you yanked on the reins, bringing the horse to a skidding halt. The men guarding you shouted in alarm, but their voices were distant echoes compared to the roaring in your ears. You leapt off the horse, your feet hitting the ground hard, and before they could react, you were running, running back towards the villa, towards the people you couldn’t abandon.

"Stop! Come back!" Acacius's men called after you, their voices laced with desperation. But you didn’t listen. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t let them risk their lives while you hid away, blind to whatever horrors might unfold.

you couldn’t turn your back on them. Not now. Now after all.

You were stronger than that. You were the daughter of Maximus Decimus, a man of honor.

You wouldn’t let them risk their lives while you hid away, blind to whatever horrors might unfold. The wind tore at your cloak, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your feet pounded the dirt path. Every step closer to the villa felt like shedding a layer of fear, replaced by a fierce, unyielding resolve.

The villa loomed in the distance; it brought a strange comfort to your heart. Your mind raced faster than your legs, what if you were too late? What if Acacius or your mother were already in danger? The thought spurred you on, ignoring the burning in your lungs and the aching in your legs.

Behind you, the shouts of Acacius’s men grew fainter, their figures shrinking against the horizon. But your heart was set, you belonged there, in the thick of it, facing whatever fate awaited alongside those you loved. As the gates of the villa came into view, your heart pounded not from exhaustion, but from the sheer force of your determination.

You were almost there.

"Acacius!" you shouted, breathless as you reached the entrance. As soon as he came into view, you crashed into him, and he caught you effortlessly, his arms wrapping around you in an embrace that felt like home.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was hushed, desperate, his hands moving to cradle your face, as if he needed to be sure you were real.

"I can't-" you gasped out, struggling to steady your breath. "Don't ask me to run away while you stay here. Please, don’t."

His fingers traced your jaw, his forehead pressing against yours as he exhaled shakily. "I can’t put you in danger," he whispered. "I won’t."

You closed your eyes, your breath mingling with his. His warmth surrounded you, grounding you, but the ache in your chest only grew stronger.

"How?" you whispered, searching his eyes. "How can I leave when you will be here fighting?

Acacius’s jaw clenched. "You know what will happen if you stay—"

"And you know what will happen if I go!" You pulled back slightly, forcing him to see the determination burning in your eyes. "I grew up in a world where privilege was handed to me until it wasn’t. My heart was humble until it wasn’t. I never realized how greedy I could be until I met you, until my heart started beating for you. I want everything that comes from you—your words, your breath, your smile, your heart, you. And if there is a chance, they take you from me, then I’d rather meet the spirits myself than live in a world where you don’t exist."

His breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw something break in him. A vulnerability so raw it threatened to consume you both. His hands trembled against your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t make this harder for me."

Your heart twisted painfully. "Then don’t make it harder for me, either. You already know how voiceless women are here. Let me make my choice for once."

His eyes darkened with conflict, with love, with fear. And then, without another word, he crushed his lips against yours. it was a desperate, aching plea. A promise. A surrender.

When he pulled away, his breath was ragged, his hands still cupping your face as though afraid you’d disappear.

"Then stay," he whispered. "And if the gods are kind, we will survive this together."

But you were afraid the gods had never been kind to lovers like you.

Lucilla watched the exchange in silence before stepping forward. "My child," she said gently, "I know you are willing to risk your life for those you love. But this is not a fight you can win with your heart.”

You turned to her, desperation burning in your eyes. "I know this villa better than anyone. I grew up here. I know every passage, every hidden corridor. If I can get to Lucius, I can free him. We can hide. We can escape and Acacius and his army will free Rome."

"No," Acacius said immediately, shaking his head. "Absolutely not."

"He’s my brother!" you argued.

"And what happens when you get caught?" Lucilla’s voice was softer, but no less firm. "You think Geta or Caracalla will show mercy to you? He’ll use you against us, just as he always intended."

Acacius tightened his grip on you. "You are the only thing keeping me from turning this entire city to dust. If something happens to you, I won’t stop. I won’t care about the cost."

You swallowed hard, your chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. "Then let me help you. Let me help Lucius."

"The best way to help is to stay safe," Lucilla insisted. "We will find a way, Acacius-“

“Lucius will refuse Acaciu’s help.” You interrupted, “He took the city he was in, but I’m his sister.”

Acacius's jaw tightened, his eyes dark with frustration and the fear it came when danger seemed to follow you. He shook his head. "That’s exactly why you can’t go. You think he’ll just follow you? Lucius is stubborn. He won’t leave. He won’t abandon his pride, even for you."

"He will if I make him see reason," you pressed, your voice trembling with conviction you wanted to believe. "If I remind him who he is, what he stands for. He’ll listen to me."

Lucilla exhaled sharply, stepping between you and Acacius, her presence like a steady force in the eye of the storm. "And if he doesn’t? If he refuses, what then?”

You flinched at her words. The weight of this pressed down on you, but you refused to let it break you. "Then at least I’ll have tried," you whispered. "At least I won’t sit in hiding while the people I love fight for their lives."

Acacius turned away from you abruptly, running a hand through his hair, his breath ragged. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath before spinning back toward you. "Do you even hear yourself? Do you know what you’re asking me to do?" His voice cracked, raw and unguarded. "You’re asking me to send you straight into the lion’s den. To just…juts let you walk into danger while I stand back and watch."

"I’m asking you to trust me," you said, your voice fierce despite the tears burning your throat. "I have spent my whole life being protected, shielded from the ugliness of this world. But I am not some delicate thing to be tucked away. If we are to have any future at all, we must take risks."

Acacius closed his eyes, as if trying to drown out your words, to quiet the war inside him. Lucilla placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. "She is her father's daughter," she murmured, her gaze heavy with understanding. "You cannot change her mind when it is already set."

He let out a shaky breath, his hands curling into fists before he finally looked at you again. "If you go, you do not go alone."

Your breath hitched. "Acacius-"

"You do not go alone," he repeated, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I will not let you face this without protection."

Lucilla nodded. "I know someone who can get you into the cells unnoticed. But you must understand-this is your one chance. If something goes wrong, there will be no second attempt. No coming back for you."

Your heart pounded as the full weight of the decision settled in. There was no turning back now.

"Then I will not fail," you promised, meeting Acacius’s gaze.

But even as you said the words, you knew that fate was a cruel, unpredictable thing.

“I will wait for you at the end of the dungeon” He explained, “Once you free Lucius, both of you, especially you will come and going to go away. Then when tomorrow came, I’ll get everything settle for what’s coming.”

Lucilla’s expression was unreadable, but there was something in her eyes something like resignation. "We don't have time to argue anymore," she said finally. "If you're going to do this, you must go now."

Acacius stepped closer, his hands gripping your arms as if he could anchor you to him. His touch burned, searing into your skin, branding you with the weight of his worry. "Promise me," he murmured. "Promise me that no matter what happens, you won’t hesitate. The moment Lucius is free, you run."

You swallowed hard, nodding, though you weren’t sure if you could keep that promise.

Lucilla moved toward the entrance, glancing over her shoulder. "I will send word to the one who will take you inside. Wait for him by the servants' passage near the western wall. And keep your head down."

Acacius leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips. "Be careful," he whispered. "I need you to come back to me."

You lingered there for a moment, memorizing the feeling of his hands on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, the way he looked at you as if you were something worth fighting for.

"Mia vita" he called out, stopping you on your tracks to kiss you softly, the pulled back slightly “Please don't let this to be our last kiss"

"We still have a life to live together" you smiled against his lips, peeking his lips once more "at peace this time"

"I will find you" he promised, peeking your lips once again, savoring every single second of this. "I'll be waiting for you at the end of the dungeon."

You nodded, feeling shivers down your spine. He kissed your lips again as if couldn’t let go because of the fear, tasting the sweet flavor of fruits on them, lingering to the feeling that in a few hours he would free Rome from the tyranny and escape with you to a happy ending, a happy life.

"Be careful, love" he whispered as you walked from his grasp.

Then, with one final look, you turned and disappeared into the shadows.

And as you did, Acacius stood still, watching you leave, his fists clenched at his sides.

He had never felt so powerless.

The night stretched long and cold as you moved through the villa’s outer corridors, keeping close to the stone walls. Every shadow felt like a threat waiting to cut you in half, every sound a warning. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself forward. Your mother’s contact was waiting near the western wall as promised, a hooded figure who barely looked at you before motioning for you to follow.

"This way," he whispered, leading you through a narrow passage. "The guards are fewer tonight, but that won’t last long."

You nodded, pressing yourself deeper into the cloak wrapped around your shoulders. The passage led downward into the lower levels of the coliseum, where the scent of damp stone and burning torches thickened the air. With each step, the reality of what you were about to do settled heavier in your chest.

Finally, the man halted near a rusted iron gate, peering around the corner before motioning for you to stop. "Beyond here, you’re on your own. You already know where the cells, be fast my lady.”

You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself before slipping through the gate. The corridor was dimly lit, flickering torchlight casting shadows along the stone walls. You kept low, moving carefully. Every instinct screamed at you to hurry, but you couldn’t afford mistakes.

Then you saw him.

Lucius sat in the farthest cell, his head down, his hands bound in front of him. His tunic was dirtied and torn; his face shadowed with exhaustion. But he was still alive.

"Lucius," you whispered urgently, pressing yourself against the bars. His head snapped up, eyes widening at the sight of you.

"By the gods," he breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"Freeing you," you said, already fumbling with the lock. "We don’t have much time, Acacius has a plan, but we need to go now."

Lucius let out a short, breathless laugh. "Acacius? And here I thought you had come to your senses and abandoned him.”

You shot him a glare, your fingers working as quickly as possible. "Do you want to fight about this, or do you want to walk out of here alive?"

Before he could respond, footsteps echoed down the hall. Your breath caught.

The guards were coming.

You barely had time to think. With trembling fingers, you worked at the lock, gritting your teeth as the iron refused to give. Lucius shifted impatiently behind the bars, his gaze darting toward the approaching footsteps.

"Hurry," he muttered.

"I know," you hissed, forcing yourself to focus. The crude metal bit into your skin, but finally, with a sharp click, the lock gave way. You got the door open, and Lucius stepped out, shaking the stiffness from his limbs.

"We need to go," you whispered.

Together, you slipped into the shadows, pressing yourselves against the cold stone walls. The guards were close now, their voices carrying down the corridor. You gripped Lucius’s wrist, pulling him forward as you sprinted through the winding path of the dungeon.

Your breaths came fast and shallow, your heart hammering with every turn. The torches flickered wildly in the drafty halls, casting distorted shapes that sent chills up your spine.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you reached the end of the dungeon, the meeting place Acacius had promised.

But he wasn’t there.

You came to a sudden stop, chest heaving as your eyes darted around the empty space.

"Where is he?" Lucius whispered harshly.

You didn’t answer. He should be here.

He said he would be here. You thought.

A cold feeling crept up your spine. Something was wrong.

Your pulse thundered in your ears. Think. Think faster. Acacius wasn’t here. That meant something had gone wrong. That meant-

“We have to move,” you whispered, gripping Lucius’s arm.

He gave you a sharp look, but didn’t argue. You took the lead, slipping through the dimly lit corridor, your body tense, ears straining for any sound. The dungeon air was thick with dampness, every breath heavy in your chest.

Acacius had told you to wait. But waiting was a death sentence now.

He could be in trouble. He could be dead.

No. You forced the thought away. Acacius was strong. He was waiting for you somewhere else. He had to be.

Lucius kept pace beside you, his voice low and urgent. “Where are we going?”

“Out,” you said, scanning the hallway. “I know another way.”

A narrow servant’s passage was carved into the farthest wall, one you had used as a child to sneak out when the world inside these walls had felt too suffocating. You yanked open the hidden door, pushing Lucius through before slipping inside yourself. The stone closed behind you, sealing you both in darkness.

The passage was narrow, forcing you to move single file. Your fingers trailed the rough stone as you navigated through the twisting tunnel, the air cool and stale. You could hear Lucius’s uneven breathing behind you, but neither of you spoke.

You reached the end and pressed against the wooden panel that led to the outside. For a long moment, you hesitated.

If Acacius wasn’t here, it meant something had shifted in the plan. But you had no time to figure out what.

You had to keep moving.

Bracing yourself, you pushed the door open and stepped into the night.

The night air was a fleeting whisper of freedom before it was ripped away.

The moment you and Lucius stepped beyond the hidden passage, torches flared to life, illuminating the ring of imperial guards waiting for you. The glint of their drawn swords was the only warning you had before rough hands seized you.

Lucius struggled, his fury a silent storm beside you, but he was outnumbered. A soldier slammed the hilt of his sword into his stomach, and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.

“Lucius!” you shouted, lunging toward him, but another set of hands wrenched you back.

A grizzled guard stepped forward; his expression smug beneath his bronze helmet. “Did you really think you could slip away unnoticed?” he sneered.

You twisted against their grip, but they held you firm. “Where is Acacius?” you demanded. “What have you done to him?”

The guard chuckled darkly. “Worry for yourself, little dove.” He leaned in, his breath rank against your cheek. “Emperor Geta will not be fond of you after this treason.”

Your stomach twisted. Geta. He knew.

The guards yanked you and Lucius apart, dragging him in the opposite direction. He thrashed violently, eyes burning with desperation as they pulled him away from you.

“Stay strong,” he shouted. “Don’t give them what they want!”

Then he was gone.

You fought harder, but it was useless. The last thing you saw before they forced you forward was the blood-red banners of the empire swaying in the cold night air.

The throne room was suffocating with tension, the air thick with the scent of oil and burning torches. Acacius and Lucilla stood before the imperial dais, their bodies rigid as Emperor Geta lounged with lazy arrogance in his gilded chair. Caracalla stood beside him, his fingers curling and uncurling as if barely restraining his temper.

The moment Acacius learned you had been captured, something inside him had snapped. His presence alone carried a storm, his jaw clenched, fists curled at his sides, the veins in his neck straining with suppressed fury.

“Where is she?” Acacius demanded, his voice like thunder cracking through the hall.

Geta smirked, swirling the wine in his goblet. “Who?” he mused, feigning innocence. “Oh, you mean your wife.” He sighed dramatically. “A shame, really. I expected more from you, Acacius. But in the end, even the great general is brought to his knees for a woman.”

Acacius took a menacing step forward, only for Lucilla to press a warning hand against his arm. “You do not want to do this,” she whispered, though even her voice carried the edge of a threat.

Caracalla’s lip curled; his rage barely restrained. “You made a mistake, Acacius. You should have fled with her when you had the chance.”

“I will get her back,” Acacius growled. His eyes snapped to Geta, cold and unrelenting. “Emperor Geta, torture me if you want, but don't dare to lay a finger on my wife.”

Geta’s expression darkened at that word.

His knuckles went white around the goblet before he set it down with deliberate slowness. “But I will,” he said, his voice dangerously smooth. He walked towards Acacius, stepping closer, his grin cruel. “Now, I’m going to see her.”

Acacius lunged, but the guards were already between them, forcing him back as Geta strode from the room. The moment the doors slammed shut behind him, Acacius let out a roar of frustration. He whirled, striking one of the marble pillars with his fist hard enough to crack the stone.

Acacius’s chest heaved with each ragged breath, but when he turned to face Lucilla next to him, his eyes were filled with something worse than fury.

Desperation.

His hands clenched into fists again. “I will kill him. I swear it.”

The cell was damp and smelled of rust and decay. You hit the ground hard as the guards shoved you inside, the impact jolting through your knees and elbows. The cold stone bit into your skin, but you barely felt it, your mind was reeling, heart hammering in your chest.

"You should have stayed where you belonged," one of the guards sneered from the other side of the iron bars. "Emperor Geta will not be fond of you after this treason."

You lifted your head, eyes burning with defiance. "I still have you to make him beg for mercy."

The guard scoffed but did not reply. He only smirked, slamming the barred door shut with a loud clang before disappearing down the corridor, his footsteps fading into the darkness.

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to sit upright. Every part of you ached, but pain was the least of your concerns.

You exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to your face as tears threatened to spill. But you wouldn’t cry.

Instead, you allowed yourself a moment to gather your strength. Tomorrow was coming, and with it, the arena and whatever fate awaited Acacius. Whatever happened, you wouldn’t let Geta break you.

Then, a sound.

Footsteps. Slow. Measured.

A chill ran down your spine.

You knew who it was before you even saw him.

The door creaked open, and there he stood.

Emperor Geta.

The first thing he did as he took glance of you was grabbing your face forcefully with his hand, forcing you to spare him a glance. He wouldn't even dream of seeing you like this, is disbelief, with your hair a mess, and bloody. You weren't made for a life like this, but now under these conditions, this was the closest he had come to have you.

"Escaping with that slave, my dear lady? You marrying Acacius felt less insulting than this." He said, looking dead into your shining orbits.

"Marrying you would an insult to myself. I would rather eat shit than be tied to you." You spatted.

Geta's smile widened as a cruel laugh escaped his lips as his studied your features. Your before soft skin seemed dirty by drops of blood and dirt. You were a delicate doll, but now smashed and crumbled.

Geta’s expression twisted, his smugness evaporating in an instant. His jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with rage. Before you could react, his hand lashed out, the sharp crack of the slap ringing through the chamber.

The force of the blow snapped your head to the side, and you stumbled, catching yourself against the floor. Your cheek stung, the pain radiating hot and angry, but it was nothing compared to the cold fury swelling in your chest.

Geta loomed over you, his breath heavy, his hand still trembling from the strike. “You will not speak to me that way,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You forget who holds your life in his hands. You forget who I am. I'm the emperor and you're just a prisoner granted privileges because of your mother and Acacius" his face got close to you, "but now you're a mere slave accused of treason."

You spit on his face. The anger and loathing consuming like a fire burning your body.

Geta took his hand to his face, cleaning your spit with disgust written on his face. You had ended with his patience and he couldn't bear it anymore.

Just a few hours ago you had been secured on Acacius big arms, surrounded by the faint scene of laurel and lavender that seemed to calmed you down.

Now the stink of dirt and humidity rusted your nostrils. You wanted to close your eyes and feel the lavender on your nose, Acacius lips on your temple. You wanted him to save you, you were pleading the gods.

"Please stop this...let me see him" you begged, your voice broken. "Don't hurt him."

Lifting your gaze to see if by chance there would be a tiny bit of sympathy dancing on his eyes, you face the coldest gaze you had ever seen.

"Acacius' life is on my will, your mother's...even that beloved gladiator of yours." He got closer once again, looking directly to your eyes, you felt his wine breath on your face, "Test my patience once again, my lady and I will snap my finger like this" he snapped his fingers in front of you, getting closer to your lips you can almost feel his on your and it felt repulsive "and all of them will be dead. All of them!"

You gritted in protest, the repulsion of his touch filling you with an instinctual fear that made your skin crawl. The air between you felt suffocating, and the words he spoke echoed in your mind like a distant nightmare, gnawing at the edges of your sanity.

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, forcing you to remain still as his lips lingered too close to yours. The stench of wine and bitterness clung to him, every part of him an invasion to your thoughts, to your soul.

"Don’t you dare," you hissed, your voice trembling but filled with defiance. You refused to let him have the satisfaction of breaking you.

“You have no idea what I could give you,” Geta began, his voice low and smooth, carrying the weight of his authority. “Power, wealth, freedom to rule by my side as my wife. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of could be yours if only you’d open your eyes and choose me.”

You hold your gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as his lips pressed forcefully against yours. The taste of wine and greed made your stomach churn, and every inch of your body screamed in protest. This was not love. This was a sick obsession, an attempt to break your will and twist your bones. You clenched your fists, refusing to let him see the fear creeping at the edges of your resolve.

"I would rather die than choose you," you spat, your voice full of venom.

“I don’t care what you want” he said, pulling away just to stand up, smiling cruelly down at you on the ground. "Chain her to the wall." He ordered the guards

Your despair filled the dirty dungeons "No, please. Don't" you squirmed under the men's hold "Let me go!"

The cold stone wall bit into your skin as the guards’ iron chains wrapped around your wrists, pulling you taut against the damp, dark dungeon. The echo of your cries was swallowed by the silence of the place, but inside, your fury burned with an intensity you had never known. You clenched your teeth, fighting the tears that threatened to fall, determined to stay strong.

"Goodnight, my princess," Geta’s mocking voice lingered in the air long after he was gone, a cruel reminder of his power over you.

Your screams followed geta's steps as he walked away from you. You were left there to drown in your own tears as you curse and whatever plan his Machiavellian mind has.

Your fingers tightened into fists, nails digging into your palms as you whispered a curse under your breath, a spell woven from the ancient words passed down through history. Soon the future of Rome would be defined and you were going to take charge of it.

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[wanderingwolfwitcher]

The Witcher met the cultists and their summoned corpses with his flashing blade, magical Signs, bombs and crossbow bolts, in a flurry of movements, never remaining still throughout the battle. While he took one side of the chamber, she took the other, unleashing her own powerful magic upon them in return as they fought back, clearly taken off guard or having underestimated them. He had the feeling throughout these were lower ranking cultists at best... there was more fear in them than higher members tended to possess. Even so, they didn't make it easy, as fanatic cult members never did. He focused on putting the corpses back down a second time while she did on the cultists, preventing them from summoning further horrors they might not be able to stop... but meeting in the middle they worked together to slay the last of the cultists... at least those in the vicinity. The stench of burning flesh and meat putrid in his nose, but he was quite familiar with it and worse things by now. He sent out further Aard blasts at the undead, knocking the rest of them to the ground to finish them off another time, whittling through their shambling, moaning ranks. When it was done, their enemy all slain, the chamber falling silent, standing victorious, he looked over to Scorpion to make sure the war horse was safe... which he thankfully was. Then, looking back to Sabrina at her voice, and to the cultist he had knocked out earlier, he nodded grimly in assent of her words.

"I'll take care of it. You stand guard... if there's something I know about cultists who worship these Outer Gods and Great Old Ones... they are numerous as they are relentless. Something tells me we barely killed any of them, and not even their best. And that we have worse things than an army of the dead to deal with, now."

Eskel's low tone observed, looking from the crimson haired Sorceress and back down to the still living, robed man below them. Raising his hand, arranging his fingers and setting them on the cultist's head, concentrating, he cast a powerful Axii Sign upon him, joining them together telepathically through the magical connection, and began to interrogate him. Setting his nerves on fire whenever he tried to resist mentally. The psyche damaged... but not by him nor a natural insanity. His madness had come from exposure to the cult... eldritch horrors... he recognized the symptoms in other demon summoners and goetia practitioners he had encountered on the Path over the years. Too much exposure to the wrong ancient artifacts, no doubt, as it was with these cults. As well as from eating the flesh of a Leviathan connected to the Outer Gods and Great Old Ones they worshiped. A little at a time, he managed to pry the information out of the cultist's addled mind, make some sense of the visions entering Eskel's mind... while most others were entirely incoherent. At last, when he had what they needed, the Witcher broke the Sign. Staring back at the cultist, raising his blade, he granted a mercy the man that he didn't deserve, decapitating him with one stroke of his blade, head and blood alike flying about. Lowering his dripping steel sword, jaw tightening, he looked back again over to Sabrina, his deep, calm voice filling her in on the revelations he had managed to discern from the disturbing memories of the cultist.

"There is an island quite some ways off Skellige... Darkwater Island, where a clan of secluded, reclusive whalers have long settled. According to this cultist's distorted, maddened memories... the lost city of R'lyeh is located somewhere beneath it. It is the true headquarters for these cultists to complete their work... the one we stand in is only a secondary base of theirs to keep an eye on Skellige, lest the locals ever turn against them or tell outsiders about them. The Necronomicon has been taken to Darkwater, at the behest of an ancient Leviathan... an emissary of the Great Old Ones. Cthulhu slumbers there, imprisoned in the city... and through waking him with the book, they hope to also wake his great-great grandsire... Azathoth. Suppose the books at Kaer Morhen weren't far off the mark, I was just looking in the wrong area. I have the island's coordinates... we will need to commandeer or hire a Skelligan ship to get us there. We'll have to play things low key, infiltrate, not storm in throwing magic around. Won't be safe, with Krakens and Sea Dragons out there, among other sea monsters, but it's doable."

@fallesto

Sabrina's eyes flashed with a fierce determination as she took in the scene before them. She knew these types of cultists, knew their twisted beliefs and their penchant for sacrifices. She wasn't going to let them get away with it, not while she had breath in her lungs. The cultists' eyes widened with terror as she raised her staff high, the air around it crackling with power. She whispered an incantation, her voice a deadly hiss in the stillness of the chamber, and the tip of her staff burst into a searing ball of fire. With a swift motion, she sent a wave of flames toward the nearest cultist, his screams echoing off the stone walls as he was consumed by the inferno. The fire spread, catching the robes of his comrades as they stumbled back, their panic palpable in the air. The heat was intense, and the smell of burning fabric and flesh filled the room. The cultists tried to flee, but they were no match for the fury of a Sorceress bent on vengeance. The flames leapedfrogged from one to another, painting the chamber in a gruesome dance of light and shadow as the cultists' forms writhed in agony.

Sabrina's heart raced as she watched the destruction unfold. It was a grim reminder of her own power, and the responsibility that came with it. Yet, she knew that she couldn't let them escape to continue their dark rituals. Each one that fell was one less that could bring about the end of the world. She conjured a fireball in her hand, tossing it with precision at the next group of cultists. The explosion sent them flying, their bodies charred and lifeless. The reanimated corpses, now ablaze, stumbled mindlessly before collapsing into piles of bone and ash. They had used the book! “Those idiots!” Now she had to kill them twice!

The roar of the fire grew louder, the heat intense, and she could feel the power coursing through her veins. It was intoxicating, but she knew she had to stay focused. The remaining cultists, desperate and cornered, turned to more sinister spells. The air grew colder, and the shadows began to twist and coalesce around them, as they where trying to bring forth demons. With a snarl, she sent a bolt of ice to freeze the shadows in their tracks, shattering them into a thousand pieces. The cultists' screams of pain were drowned out by the crackling of the flames. When the last of the fire had died down, she looked over to see one cultist still breathing, lying unconscious on the floor. His robes were singed, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he was surrounded by the charred remains of his comrades. She stepped over the smoldering wreckage, her boots crunching on the stone beneath her. The room was eerily quiet now, the only sounds were the distant crackling of the dying fire and the soft whimpers of the man at her feet.

“They have already started then, unless we get this idiot to speak and tell us where they are carrying out there ritual, we will have bigger problems to deal with, an army of the dead, we all know that is not something we want to be facing.”

[minniesfiles]

JUST TO BE LOVED

Soonyoung didn’t know what hurt more, you falling apart or how you couldn’t see what was right in front of you.

❧ PAIRING; soonyoung x reader

❧ GENRE; angst

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; best friends, unrequited love, angst

❧ WORDCOUNT; 0.8k

𐚁₊⊹

▍12 JANUARY 2025

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, but they kept falling faster than you could catch them. Your chest was aching, your breathing was uneven, and every part of your body felt heavy with the unbearable loneliness pressing against your ribs.

You sat on the floor of your bedroom with your knees to your chest, sobbing softly. Across from you, Soonyoung watched helplessly with his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

He hated seeing you like this.

You were always the strong one, the one who laughed the loudest, who ran barefoot through the rain and danced without music. But tonight, that spark was gone. The light in your eyes was no longer there, and he could feel the heartbreak radiating off you like a storm about to break.

As he sat down beside you, he was hesitant but unable to keep his distance.

“Y/n,” he said softly, “talk to me.”

You shook your head and curled into yourself even more. Soonyoung exhaled sharply as he tried to push down the anger simmering in his chest. Not at you — but at the person who had done this to you.

After what felt like forever, you finally spoke.

“I just don’t understand,” you whispered. “What’s wrong with me?”

Soonyoung’s heart clenched. “What do you mean?” he asked.

You let out a shaky breath and rubbed your red, puffy eyes. “I try so hard to be good enough. To be pretty enough, interesting enough, lovable enough. But it’s never enough.”

You turned your head towards him as your face crumbled. “All I really want is to be loved.”

Soonyoung inhaled sharply once again.

You had no idea.

You had no idea how much he loved you.

How every time you smiled, he felt the world tilt on its axis.

How every time you cried, he felt like the ground beneath him was crumbling.

How, for years, he had watched you chase after people who never deserved you — who took your love and gave nothing in return.

His fingers twitched at his sides, and they ached to reach for you, to cup your face in his hands and make you see what was always right in front of you.

But instead, he swallowed his feelings like he always did and forced his voice to stay steady.

“Y/n,” he murmured. “There is nothing wrong with you. Not one single thing.”

You scoffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve. “Then why doesn’t anyone stay?”

Soonyoung clenched his jaw. “Because they’re fucking idiots.”

You let out a hollow laugh as you shook your head. “It’s not just them, Soonie. Maybe I’m the problem. Maybe I’m just too much or—”

“Stop.”

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. Startled( you blinked at the intensity in his tone.

“You are not the problem,” he said as his eyes burned into yours. “You love too deeply Y/n. You give your heart away so freely to people who don’t know how to hold it. That’s not a flaw. That’s—” he exhaled while running a hand through his hair.

“That’s one of the most beautiful things about you.”

You just stared at him with your lips parted slightly. You searched his face like you were seeing him for the first time, and for a split second, he thought — maybe, just maybe — you were starting to understand.

“Soonie,” you whispered, and Soonyoung held his breath.

‘Say it, Y/n. Please. Say you see it. Say you know. Say you love me too.’

But before you could speak, your phone buzzed loudly against the floor, breaking whatever moment that was building between you both.

You glanced at the screen, and Soonyoung couldn’t quite read your expression. But he didn’t have to look to know who it was.

It was the same guy who shattered your heart only hours ago. The same guy who walked away and left you in pieces — pieces that Soonyoung was always the one to pick up.

You bit your lip in hesitation, while Soonyoung swallowed hard.

He could beg you not to answer.

He could tell you that if you let this guy back in, it would only hurt you all over again. He could finally, finally confess what had been sitting heavy in his chest for years.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he forced a small smile, “you should answer that” he said.

You studied him for a moment. But then, you nodded and picked up the phone, pressing it to your ear as you got up from the floor and walked out of the room.

Soonyoung stayed where he was and stared at the empty space you left behind.

And for the first time in years, he wondered if you would ever see him the way he saw you.

Or if he was destined to love you from the sidelines forever.

[corviiids]

sparknotes for "fix your eyes" the 2/2 akeshu fic

as always dont read this if you havent read the fic it wont make any sense, also p5r spoilers obviously but i think the boat's sailed on that one. happy 2/2, the holiday where goro akechi dies and i celebrate by killing ren. fuck yeah.

i guess the overarching question in this fic is whether ren is real, or, like to what degree he is real? to an extent i want to leave it up to interpretation, but it's not nearly as ambiguous as i left it in my death note fic telltale. you can have your own take on this but fwiw my take is that ren is as real as goro is in canon third sem, which is to say he's real. he's behaving as himself. maruki isn't influencing his behaviour. (at least that's my intention.)

the main mirror to canon w this au is like... okay so in canon, akechi sacrifices himself for the thieves and then is brought back, and ren's big challenge is whether he can stand to lose akechi a second time. it's worse for ren because ren is the Hero, you know? so not only is akechi someone he failed to save, akechi is someone who gave himself up specifically so REN could live, something that ren (who likes to sacrifice himself for others) really struggles to live with. the idea of allowing akechi to sacrifice himself therefore becomes a huge problem for him.

in THIS fic though, akechi killed ren himself. so it's a different question. the actual choice is not between killing ren vs keeping him alive--it's that in november, akechi made the wrong choice. he did something he regrets. so now the onus is back on him, again, to choose again, and figure out which choice is right. killing ren was obviously the wrong thing to do by ren. now, although ren doesn't offer a view one way or the other, the implication is that ren does not want this reality, given ren was fighting maruki all month knowing he was dead. so the right thing to do arguably is to allow ren to die again, even though his death was a wrong that occurred already. this is the more painful choice for akechi to make because it's something he actively wishes didn't happen, but it would be the right thing by ren--so akechi's challenge is whether he can make the selfless choice this time having done wrong before.

that's why akechi in canon and ren in this fic react so differently. akechi has been robbed of his agency all his life, so he impresses his wishes very forcefully on ren: he refuses to live like this, so he insists that ren choose to let him die. whereas ren in this fic was robbed of his life by akechi choosing his fate for him. he knows akechi is now struggling with regretting his decision, so telling akechi to choose one way or the other would actually be more merciful. telling akechi to let him die would make it easier for akechi to do it, and ren refuses to take the burden off him. ren's saying, you chose for me last time and you chose wrong, so now im forcing you to choose again. and this time get it right.

i had a really fun time with akechi's voice in this fic because he's so unstable and just really irritable. he is not having a good time, and he's really unreliable as a result. i think he's really been at sea since he killed ren. sometimes you get everything you always wanted and it just fucking sucks. the whole time he's struggling with how much he wishes he'd failed. he wants ren back, doesn't deserve to have him back, want to spend time with him now that he is back and is also struggling with guilt and bemusement that ren is spending time with him at all. he manifests all of this as irritability because he's just not good at regulating himself.

one of the big things also is that akechi's internal narration calls ren 'amamiya' for almost the entire fic, because they just never got that close. more precisely, akechi doesn't feel he's able to consider ren that closely.

ren's behaviour in the fic is pretty inscrutable. like, it really doesn't make sense for ren to want akechi at all. i guess im making kind of a meta point with this more than i am making any point about ren's internal world. the point is mostly just to emphasise how little goro understands what's going on with ren here. this is a very unreliable narrator fic, something goro comments on himself.

(btw, the joke here is that latin is a dead language........ lmao)

shows thru in parts like this also, where goro kind of technically has a point and yet if this is the entirety of your worldview it's not only jaded it's also just kind of... incomplete. like, it's not wrong? ren's confidants are all like this, basically. and goro does then go on to say that though relationships START like this, they can't stay that way. but more than that, it shows how brittle goro's perspective is on social relationships. his distortions are pretty clear.

he also has this repeated refrain of nihilism the further it goes along lol

there are also a lot of these moments where ren clearly indicates he knows something is up, but akechi just misses them because he's so wrapped up in his own shit.

oh also backtracking a bit

the idea here being that kind of like how akechi will wait in kichijoji in third sem, ren's kind of become the kichijoji confidant and akechi's become the protagonist.

btw initially i had planned to write a more closed ending, or potentially a CYOA style double ending depending on which choice akechi makes? but ultimately i decided to leave it ambiguous.

i feel like there is definitely other stuff i wanted to say but i forgot it so i guess ill just add onto this post later if i think of it. anyway! thanks for reading! happy 2/2! <3