#i love blade so much hes so funny and suffering....

[moeblob]

Me, too, Blade. Me. Too.

(I am taking donations to buy a gigantic $250 stuffed cheeseburger. It's giant. I want it. I will never obtain it. I saw it in a shop window and..... wow. Big.)

[majeoeje]

In the afternoon of this garden

Teru Minamoto x reader

Your touch that should have lingered far longer disappeared and left me to grow cold

"Teru...do tell me. Would you exorcist me if i was an apparition?"

You say in a tone that was unfamilliar to him, a soft, frigid tone, with a tinge of timid and nervousness that laces your voice.

.

"In a heartbeat"

●●●

That day flashes Teru's mind seconds as he hesitated to draw his blade, the lightning that usually emitted from it dims down to small stings of electric waves

Today isn't as different as that day teru said to his mind. Nothing changed. He convinced himself

Though the pouring rain may beg to differ

"Ahhh- my alyssum is dying!!" You moped, hovering an umbrella over it, in an attempt to save it even just a little bit knowing well that the recent pouring rain of japan would kill this plant of yours

You failed to notice right behind you he stood. Teru's heart thump in a suffocating way

Thump

.

Thump

.

Thump.

.

Each and every heartbeat felt like it's going to rip his chest open

Lightning struck from from faraway, though when the light flashed your figure his eyes widened.

He shook his head, it's only an illussion, he must be imagining things...nothing's changed. He looks up after noticing your form no longer holds a shadow

There's no way you're...

The gurgling sound of thunder followed

You didn't flinch. You were used to lightning after all

"Maybe i should build a hut for my plants" you joked, looking back to him. Raising an eyebrow at his stiffness, he stood there unmoving, contemplating on his next move.

"And here i thought i was devastated! Ahahaha!" you joked once again, trying to lift up the mood, despite him staying silent. Your laugh only sounding like a distant voice outside of his dome of thoughts that he locked himself into

You went up to him, still frozen, now lifting the umbrella to him, worried he might get sick by how damped his uniform was getting, letting the rain hit you

Though you failed to notice for how much you stood in the rain, your uniform stayed ever so dry

"Teru are you okay?" Your hand went to his cheek

You remain unfazed while Teru stood there still frozen from how he couldn't feel anything from the contact

the proof was right on his face yet he seeks more excuses .

He denied it. How you complained about how your friends ignored you, how you always feel cold these days, how you're never hungry or thirsty, how you would smile and say your body never hurts anymore. Each and every change that you present to him he ignored. He ignored every sign.

Perhaps he wanted to keep you longer than you should've lingered.

But with this simple gesture, it feels like reality is forcing him to wake up out of his stupid dream and just end your suffering.

Funny how he never once thought there would be a future where he is not by your side, yet now maybe it felt like a distant dream.

He tried to remember that day again, closing his eyes, not wanting you to see how reddened his eyes are now

●●●

"In a heartbeat." he said

A cruel answer to give to the one you cherish in this very lovely garden. He never really payed the gardening club a frequent visit. But now he wishes he did seeing you tending your garden with such care, it brings a smile to his face. Distracting him from the nonsensical question you had just asked

Though you gave him a meaningful look, a look he didn't understand at that moment, it confused him at that moment, yet he payed no mind to it

"I know"

You had always confused him. But he wouldn't mind being confused the rest of his life, if that means you'd stay with him till the end

●●●

"Oh Teru..don't cry"

you said, awakening him from his sweet daydream of a memory of you, as he now opened his eyes to the harsh bitter reality

He wondered how you could've noticed his tears in this heavy pour

"I can't-.. i can't..." his voice cracked, he only wished the rain could covers his plead to the gods wishing that this was just a long dreadful dream

"How could i even possibly-... you.."

he couldn't bring himself to finish that very sentence, the very person that he loved with all his heart became a being that he swore to erase

You've seen a lot of side of him, even a side which he cried and stuttered. Yet each and everytime you witness it always breaks your heart

You looked into his eyes, maybe for the last time. He could tell by the look in your eyes that you knew all along. It hurts him even more

All the signs...it wasn't just signs, it was sirens of clues that you lit for him to see. Yet he chose to close his eyes

With each and every thump on his chest, he can't bring himself to do it, he fell to the ground clutching his chest, his katana made a loud clunk when it collided to a stone, making it ring through the garden in an eerie way

You kneeled in front of him embracing him in what he feels like a gush of wind

"I know"

.

.

.

(I srsly forgot most of things in tbhk but i do remember being obsessed to this guy)

[hell-drabbles]

Gabriel 3

Summary: Did you know? Did you know that when your head gets cut off, you start to whisper the most beautiful prayers? Gabriel knows, and only he will be allowed to hear them. But, of course, he must break another human first.

(I was in the mood for something sufficiently fucked up. So! Have an Angelified Embittered Companion who's head gets dangled in front of Ra-on, and where Gabriel finds himself unable to let go of said head. Keeping it close to him.)

"The deed is done." Michael tossed your head at Gabriel's feet, not bothering to glare and concentrated his venom into his voice instead, "Next time, do it yourself." And so he left without so much as a glance at the human below.

There was a garbled cry, choked out from a throat that cried itself raw. The sound has long lost it's allure. Just how long will this Son of Solomon continue with his whining? But then again, can Gabriel really expect better from a bloodline such as his? How funny, the way humans function. Look at that little human on the ground, gripping the crude pipe you once held, barely able to keep balance.

One chase and a bad fall was all it took to lure this Son of Solomon away from his protection, and render him unable to even properly balance himself.

Gabriel lifted your head after lightly dusting it off with his wing, and presented it before the human. Blood of red and gold languidly dripped from your stump of a neck.

You looked as if you've simply fallen asleep.

Gabriel stepped down, just so this human can get a good, long look at your face.

"Well? Take good, long look. You see? Your very existence will only continue to bring about tragedy. So long as the blood of Solomon continues to run through your veins, suffering will always latch onto you. So wouldn't it be best for you to end yourself right here?"

Gabriel has always been swift in his tasks. Back when his rage was a fiery white inferno, his blade rarely went a day without the blood of a descendant on it. It was the only thing he could think of, the only task he would allow himself to concentrate on. He would ignore food, the need for sleep, and even to keep himself clean, because to take any sort of joy without God there, it felt like an insult. How dare he try to enjoy himself in any little way when God is missing?

But, even Gabriel can't stay stagnant in the tides of time. His rage would burn, but it would be tempered eventually. And so, here he is, clothed, clean, well fed, and dangling your head right in front of this Son of Solomon's sight with more joy than he's ever felt.

Now, Gabriel knows he doesn't have to rush. This one, this 'Ra-on,' was the last of them, the last evidence of Solomon's line. He will die here, in this Hell he's been prancing through as a flowery paradise. And when death does claim him, Gabriel will make sure that he goes a broken man.

"Now what did they call you, 'the key to our victory?' How laughable. All I see is a small, weak, and overly indulgent human that can't see past his own lust. Your greed has laid your precious companion's head into my hands."

This is the funny thing about humans, how they visibly age as their soft hearts break. The way their faces wrinkle as their eyes widen, how their breath dies in their lungs along with any hope for sweet dreams. How the only thing they can possibly focus on is the source of misery.

This is what they deserve. This is what the descendants of Solomon deserve, for being connected to that hated man that took away Gabriel's god.

"…give it…" Ra-on's voice was a shivering whisper as his fingers reached out towards your head. "please…give them back…"

Oh, the sweet sound of begging. And here Gabriel thought he has long grown tired of such mutterings. And this human was kneeling, as though Gabriel was worshiped altar to a fabricated deity. The Son of Solomon's eyes shook, his lips and fingers bitten raw.

Gabriel took flight, because why would he bother telling this human 'no,' when he could leave him there? Humans love words and responses, so he will him with nothing but the image of your head forever seared into his thoughts.

Your eyes were open but Gabriel know you weren't seeing anything. You stared but the vision before you was something even he couldn't hope to grasp.

Gabriel has long since cleaned you up. He wiped your skin, cleaned up any dirty cuts and wounds, and placed you upon a downy pillow filled with only the best angel feathers. His own feathers. He can't help it. After all, you deserve such things when you're currently in the middle prayer.

Honestly, there's no point to keeping your head around. You've been fed an especially potent seed, and so simple decapitation wouldn't be enough to kill you, and you'd spring back up with a new body without much issue.

But, well, Gabriel has always been a selfish one. This was his due reward. He's allowed a little odd habit or two. God will surely allow this, for his love knows no bounds.

Gabriel must go. There is another land of Hell that must know their wrath, but he has to pay a visit before he goes.

He took your head between his hands, made sure his fingers weren't gripping your jaw too tightly, and leaned in.

"You have rejected us, God," those words flowed over your tongue, "and burst upon us."

The prayers you whisper always speak of hatred, of longing, of wishing to stray farther and farther from the light of God, but your voice, lately, has been pouring over his ears. Every delicate pop and hiss sends shivers over his spine, makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Gabriel shifted, and subtly ground his hips into the side of the mattress.

"Go on," he breathed into your cheek, "speak more. Fill my head with all your hatred."

"Sanction me from this life, from this suffering, and touch my soul no longer," you spat. "Let the hatred within be the last all light shall see."

Soon, you will recover your old body back. And soon, your hatred will spellbind all of Gabriel's thoughts. He looks forward to the day.

[yanderes-galore]

Oh wow just thought of a terrible scenario for darling. Jealous Frank Morrison carving out his name on darling's body.. Mayhaps with a little addition when darling finally dies and they end up near campsite... they notice that the wound hadn't healed at all :)

Yet another day of making darling suffer.

May be short, but I promise I made it disturbing >:)

Branding

Yandere! Frank Morrison Short

Pairing: "Romantic"

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Swearing, Blood, Sadism, Murder, Darling "dies", Gore?, It's short but dark as hell, THIS IS NOT LOVE, Forced "relationship".

"You think what you're doing is fucking funny, love?"

Frank's voice is in a predatory growl, his knife and clothes already slick with blood. This trial hadn't really gone as planned... for you. You were purposefully made to be the last one left... your fellow survivor being hunted down like dogs.

Tears run down your face at the pain in your body. Frank had pulled up your stomach with his blade to your skin. He had started with lightly scratching the surface in what felt like letters.

You only knew they were letters by the time he had finished carving the 'F'....

"You know how fucking tempting you are? Running around with those other pests, acting all cute?"

You don't give much of a response other than a pained squeal, Frank cutting the knife deeper into your flesh. He cuts an 'R' into your flesh, the blood pooling from the carving and onto the grass below. Frank heaves a sigh, using a sleeve to wipe the blood away from the skin so he can continue.

"I don't like seeing you with them. Almost envious, really." Frank chuckles yet you can hear his exasperated tone. "I really think it's about time I mark what's mine, yeah?"

You can only whimper, shaking as you stare up at the masked killer in front of you. Blood... both yours and someone else's... stain his outfit. You feel your vision blur... only for you to scream again, your vocal cords raw.

On goes the 'A'... a sickening sound of flesh being torn on your stomach making you nauseous.

"Sweetheart, your screams are always my favorite..." Frank sighs in a dreamy tone as he continues his handiwork. "Tell you what... I'll only do my first name. I may lose you before I can finish the last name...."

Blood splurts onto your skin and the ground. You shake and shiver due to the blood loss. Frank only seems to be irritated by this fact....

"Ugh... Don't you dare take them yet..." Frank growls out, no doubt to The Entity as he quickly begins to cut an 'N'.

"Almost done, baby..." Frank whispers, looking you over. He clicks his tongue when he sees you barely reacting anymore. At this point you must be numb to the pain. Or barely conscious....

Frank lightly taps your face, cupping a cheek as you weakly look at him. You look so cute when tired... no matter the cause. Oh, and blood red looks stunning on your face to him.

"Stay with me, yeah? It's a shame if my favorite survivor leaves me so soon..." Frank sighs, hearing a breathy yet tired scream leave your throat as he finishes the 'K'.

"I want all those other friends of yours to know I claim you. Actually, not just them... those other freaks should know too." Frank grumbles, wiping your sore skin to view the bloody brand.

F, R, A, N, K...

'FRANK.'

"Looking good, baby..." Frank whistles, glancing at your form... the skin turning pale. "Well, I thank you for playing such a game for me... but I should really be merciful, yeah? I care about you, after all. Even if you piss me off by relying on those 'friends' of yours..."

You don't have the energy to fight when Frank places his blade to your neck, his mask grinning down at you.

"Until next time, baby..." Frank coos.

Before you can feel the blade cut into the flesh of your neck, you wake up with a gasp.

You look around quickly, adrenaline coursing through you. Your heart only slows when you see the haunting campfire in front of you. By this point... you've become used to such monstrous loops.

What you weren't used to was a sudden pain on your stomach.

You flinch, the pain an aching sting as you sit up from your spot. Your fellow survivors give you a look of worry, but you wave them off. You shouldn't be feeling any pain... The Entity usually keeps the survivors in good condition so they can perform for its many trials and games.

You stay away from the other survivors yet keep yourself in the campfire's light. Cautiously, you lift your shirt. Only to feel your heart stop when you see the cause of your pain.

You can't believe it, you even trace the scars with your hand... only to flinch back when you feel a sharp pain.

You wonder if this is some cruel joke The Entity decided to play on you... it has to be.

Regardless of what it is... engraved on your stomach is a simple yet dreadful name... a grim reminder of your situation...

'FRANK'.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Congratulations!!

If you feel inspired by this combo and have time, could you write a ficlet using "I", 🍨, 🥰 or 😂, and 🔨?

Thank you!

(Apologies if you already got this ask--my device froze when I sent it the first time, so I don't know if it went through)

Thank you so much! 🥰I still remember your lovely comments on the mer-dude fic, so I hope you enjoy this little bonus! 🦕❤️🧜🏻‍♂️

Of mates and mer-dudes

Words: 996

Rated: T

Tags: summer camp AU; mer!Steve; established relationship; flirting; sexual tension; fade to black

Notes: Set in the same universe as Just add water

“Hammer.” 

“Hammer,” Eddie repeats dutifully. Dustin spends two or three seconds trying to drive the nail in with the object he's been handed, until he realizes it's a screwdriver. 

“Very funny. I said hammer.” 

“Apologies,” Eddie mutters, chucking the screwdriver back into the mess that is their toolbox with one hand and wiping his sunburnt forehead with the other. “I think we've been out here longer than is strictly healthy. How ‘bout we call it a day and head back to camp? It's almost dinner time.” 

Dustin scowls. The hair under his Thinking Cap is matted with sweat and he is red-faced and splotchy. An unavoidable side effect of working out on the secluded pier all afternoon. 

“We can't just stop now, it's almost done,” Dustin claims, gesturing at their rickety construction of wood and mesh - it’s supposed to be an oversized fish trap, even though Eddie thinks it’s turning out to be more of a funky modern art installation. “This'll work, I know it. This time, I'll prove that Lovie is real. All those past times, it got away too quickly, but if I could just-” 

“Jesus, kid,” Eddie groans. “You and your lake monster. You don't know when to give up, do you?” 

“Give up?” Dustin scoffs. “If Thomas Edison had given up, we'd still be lighting candles. If Homer Ahr had given up, we would've never walked on the moon. I sure as hell won't-?” 

“The fuck is Homer Ahr?” 

Dustin heaves a long-suffering sigh. 

“Only mission control's chief engineer, Eddie? Honestly, that's the kinda question I'd expect from Steve, not you. Where is he, by the way? I thought he wanted to help us.”

“No idea,” Eddie admits. “Lucky bastard.” 

Dustin draws a breath, probably to ask what he means, but Eddie is saved by the sound of the dinner bell floating over from the camp grounds. 

“Okay, you gremlin, off you go,” he says, pushing the kid towards the sound before another argument can break loose. “We can finish this tomorrow when we aren't dehydrated and grouchy.” 

Dustin grumbles. “What about you?”

Eddie waves him off. “Be there in a sec, lemme put away your shit first.” 

He starts picking up their scattered tools, throwing them back into the box. Only when he's sure that Dustin is well out of earshot does he collapse at the edge of the pier, naked feet dangling over the water's surface. 

“Man,” he says. “That kid, right?” 

There's a soft growl from behind him, and the barest of sloshing sounds, and a shadow falls over him. He only just manages to suck in a breath - knowing he'll need it - before a massive snout pushes between his shoulder blades and he goes plummeting into the lake. He’s dimly aware of the toolbox going down with him, and then the world vanishes in a whirl of bubbles.

He resurfaces to the feeling of arms wrapping around his waist and massive fins brushing his legs, and the sound of laughing voices - one human, one very much not so. He tries to glower at their owners, but actually needs a second to part the sopping curtain of his hair.  

“So fucking hilarious, you aquatic asshats. I thought I told you to quit doing that.” 

Lovie the lake creature just chirps merrily and dives back under again, splashing him with her fins as she goes. 

Steve shrugs. The motion makes tiny droplets of water run down his bare shoulders and collarbones, bringing out his freckles and moles and tiny, glittering scales. Eddie wants to lick them. He has long stopped worrying about what that says about him.

“Sorry. She just wants you in the water with us. She likes it when the flock is together.”

His smile is apologetic, but his tail curls around Eddie’s legs in the water, fins wrapping around the two of them possessively.

Because, see, here's the thing. Over the past year, Eddie has not only discovered that his infuriatingly pretty fellow camp counselor is a mermaid and the guardian of an ancient lake creature. He has also somehow managed to score said mer-dude as a boyfriend and been adopted into the lake creature's flock.  

“She never does that shit with Buckley,” he grouses, even though Steve’s words make something flutter in his chest. Steve's touch, also - hands on his hips, fins on his ankles. “She's part of the flock, too, isn't she?” 

“Yeah…” Steve blushes, a delicious pink hue on wet, sun-tanned skin. Eddie wants to lick that, too. “But Robin isn't my…” 

He trails off into an unintelligible mumble after that. Eddie wrinkles his brow. 

“Your what? Come again, fish boy, I didn’t-” 

“My mate,” Steve blurts, and the fins on his hips flutter excitedly under Eddie’s fingers. “Robin isn’t my mate.” 

Eddie feels his mouth drop open. The water is unpleasantly cold against his flushed skin. 

“Wait,” he says when he finally remembers how to form words again. “Hold on a second. When did that happen?” 

Steve’s face is still scarlet, but his lips start twitching when he meets Eddie’s eyes. “That’s just the way she sees it. You can’t expect her to think in human standards. Now c’mon, we gotta get to dinner or the kids will wonder where-” 

“Oh, no!” Eddie interrupts him, mouth tugging into a stupid, wide grin of his own. “No, no, no, sweetheart. You don’t get to tell me that we’ve been mer-mated for God knows how long and never officially consummated that sacred connection. I’m gonna get a mer-divorce if you don’t-” 

“Oh God, shut up,” Steve groans, and kisses him. 

As he gets dragged off to their favorite little shore, well out of sight from the camp grounds, Eddie bids a brief mental farewell to the toolbox lying abandoned at the ground of the lake. He’ll have to make up some story about where it went when Dustin asks him, but that's a problem for later. 

For now, he’s got other things to think about. 

More celebration ficlets

[bookwyrminspiration]

ok not to alvar post in your inbox again but liek.

“You want to talk about being left for dead?” Alvar lunged forward, but Sandor and Ro shifted their blades to block him. “ I was left in a pod of orange goo while my brother and sister stood by watching! The same brother who threatened to carve me up with a knife earlier that night! The brother who stopped pressing buttons to try to save me as the pod filled up—did he tell you that? He let the tank fill, waiting for me to drown” (632).

this excerpt makes me want to eat concrete in a good way. we love to talk about fitz stopping pressing buttons, but the way alvar is angry at fitz for stopping isn’t really talked about as much as it could be i think.

i always thought it was so funny because alvar was given the chance to change and come back from what he did throughout flashback. and when his memories came back, he made his choice to turn his back on his family, but he’s mad when said family turns their back on him in return. but i rlly wanted to hear your thoughts on this because you’re one of the most ardent buttonsposters on this site

this is FASCINATING. Okay, so. Looking at Alvar's familial feelings, a lot of his hatred is centered on his parents. He felt drowned in unrealistic expectations he could never live up to as the only Vacker kid, and saw Fitz as a replacement, his parents saying he'd never be good enough. Whether this is true isn't really relevant, as it's how he took it

Fitz ends up in a weird cross section here where he hasn't actually done anything to Alvar but exist. Alvar hates Fitz for replacing him, but it was their parents that chose to have him. Everything Alvar hates about Fitz is a manifestation of his resentment for Alden and Della.

Fitz is the perfect golden boy. A telepath like their father, the youngest to naturally manifest at that. Replaced Alvar in looking for Sophie--actually found her when Alvar passed her by. Fitz enrages Alvar for being everything he thinks their parents wanted that he wasn't

But Fitz doesn't have to be. I think that's key. Fitz could throw it all away, stop being perfect, drown under the pressure like Alvar did, and join him. And I think Alvar wants him to. Then he wouldn't be replaced, and instead Fitz could serve as evidence of how horrible their parents were. If Fitz breaks, too, then the problem wasn't with Alvar

And yet he isn't. FItz is choosing, again and again, his family. His parents. To be on the opposite side. Which means he's now making an active choice to become the replacement he inadvertently always was, proving the problem's with Alvar. Which means Alvar can hate him for being himself now. He's just like them, and he's turning their sister, too. The little sister who was the most likely to get him--so when she doesn't? They're blinded, representing everything wrong with their world. The expectations, the indoctrination of the next generations, everything

Alvar is desperate to be the one hurting. He grew up incredibly privileged and only talks of the burden it was. Keefe said Umber was left for dead and he immediately lashes back with this quote, talking about how he's been hurt just as much if not more because he got gooed. And not only that, his family gooed him.

Which reveals he does value family to an extent. If it's worse to be hurt by your siblings, it's because they matter more. Again, everything Alvar hates is centered on their parents. Fitz and Biana were supposed to choose him, to see his pain and understand him, leave their parents behind. They're siblings, even if they're bratty and naive.

We see that in the repetition of brother before each point; he's highlighting the connection they should've had--and blaming its dissolution on Fitz. A little on Biana, but mostly on Fitz, as Fitz was the replacement and the spark to the fuel of Alvar's suffering. The last straw. He's furious. And frames everything as if its unbelievable.

Which implies, potentially, that he wouldn't do the same. That he wouldn't take a knife to his sister, or watch his brother drown. That for all his talk, he sees them as different from their parents and that they matter, deep down.

I think Alvar is desperate to have his pain acknowledged, to be seen and understood, which is a valid desire. But he has blown it entirely out of proportion in his quest to be seen--and his siblings were his main hope. Who better to understand what being a Vacker kid did to him than the other Vacker kids? But because of that blowing it out of proportion, even though they're all Vacker kids, they can't understand. Because Alvar's reaction is illogical. He's in the wrong, and he refuses to understand or realize that because there's kernels of validity to his feelings.

so he's simultaneously furious at Fitz for replacing him, being everything he wasn't, and not choosing him, and desperate to be seen and acknowledged and understood by him and Biana.

basically Alvar's a clusterfuck of complications of a man

[rpstartersinc]

* 𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄: 𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄.

feel free to change pronouns / wording!

" you are dawdling! "

" i'll show you i'm not a child anymore. "

" you are much faster than i am. "

" this grass will keep you hidden if you stay low. "

" what devilry is this? "

" the forest is out of bounds until further notice. "

" we must have sinned something rotten to be punished so. "

" the smell of your cooking warms the heart. "

" you know you are not supposed to be here. "

" did he talk? "

" i don't have time to play games. "

" think it's funny making me run like that? "

" you'll get nothing out of me! "

" you're going to get us killed! "

" i'm not scared of dying you know. "

" be sure to stay in the light. "

" they ate him! "

" try not to look. "

" we can't do anything for them now. "

" the air... it's burning my throat... "

" they are not going to catch us, alright? "

" you should hide, it's dangerous. "

" when a rat bites you it poisons your blood. "

" maybe there's a monster in it. "

" it's not good to be alone. "

" you're just like all the others! "

" you're no fun. "

" you're lucky i like gold better than blood. "

" the better you look, the higher the ransom. "

" that's war for you. "

" i'm making your rescue profitable. "

" i've had enough of running. "

" he's going to slaughter us! "

" there's nowhere for you to go out there. "

" don't get all lovey-dovey. "

" you trying to impress me or what? "

" don't worry, we're all scared of what's in our heads. "

" try to be a bit more enthusiastic, will you? "

" use your eyes before using your mouth. "

" i would quite like to see a monster, actually. "

" i just don't like water much, that's all. "

" i'm sorry i lied to you. "

" a good remedy is a remedy that stinks. "

" the storm will drown out our voices. "

" you've read too many books. "

" you were having a bad dream... "

" brothers... sometimes you just want to kill them. "

" the first rule of survival is hit 'em between the legs. "

" that sound... you never get used to it. "

" i don't want to hear another peep out of you. "

" you have no idea how i have suffered. "

" i might've got a little carried away. "

" when you enter a place that has been abandoned for a very long time, there's something in the air. "

" i'm here with you. "

" it's like a river... a river of rats. "

" we haven't done all this for nothing. "

" what will be will be. "

" it's as if it was decided that ever since we met our lives have been governed by chaos! "

" none of this seems to be real at all. "

" you're not sleeping? "

" you're going to tell me about rules? "

" a child never runs away without a reason. "

" it is easy to spill blood, but to love, to protect... "

" they didn't hurt you, did they? "

" this is no place for a child. "

" nobody saw me. "

" your rank should make you more cautious. "

" you are a vile heretic driven mad by power. "

" we have the same goal. "

" this guard was devoured... "

" they use our dead to build their nests? "

" you wouldn't like it out there, believe me. "

" for the last time, will you answer my questions? "

" no one will hurt you now. "

" this is not a game. "

" you are a monster! "

" you don't have a home anymore! "

" i'm ready to die, it will even be an honour. "

" the rats will be coming, we need to light the fires. "

" i have to accept that he won't be coming back. "

" you're like a hero from a book or something. "

" i thought you said this place was secure! "

" we got that bastard! "

" you lied to me! "

" you are no longer any use to me. "

" my blade is still warm, as you will soon find out. "

" since you refuse to go to hell, i shall bring hell to you. "

" i'll tear them apart! "

" i wish i was strong like that. "

" you're a tough guy, tougher than i am. "

" i can't take any more of these bloody rats! "

" thank you for your candour. "

" calm down... it's over. "

" you want to try your hand at shooting? "

" we just don't want any trouble here, do you understand? "

" that's not true... but it doesn't matter. "

[kandadze]

Ep 32 loose thoughts

Oh hell that was a *bad* idea, WX! And why is she by herself? Was PSJ not in the dungeon after all?

Ahhh okay she still *is* in the dungeon, oh ffs

She at least has her brother when things get *real* bad... I spoke too soon. Hello there, another illusion! Get him, PSJ, punch that goddamn smirk off of his face!

I see this episode will be a montage of at least three fight sequences going on at the same time. Oof, I felt ZYZ taking that fireball in the back to protect ZYC right in my gut, how many times will they be each other's shield before one of them shatters?

Speaking of which. Can someone shatter this asshole already???

Come on, ZYC, you know there's no way WX and PSJ could be there for real! All of this is just another illusion feeding off your biggest fear!

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

Right, it's an illusion within an illusion. I can't with this drama.

How many times did ZYZ let himself bleed on ZYC's blade at this point? I should go back and count. Look at me, I know that no matter how the end might break me, I *will* go back and rewatch the whole thing...

Fuckkkkk the way I cheered when the swirl of leaves appeared! (Also, ZYZ using his hand to protect ZYC's face... I repeat, how many times will they be each other's shield??? 😭)

Oh LL, joining the self-sacrificial idiots squad! And ZYZ's concern for him coming out of his cultivation too early. LL's smile in response! Fuck the things that could've been 😭

Ngl it's kinda funny how they're having those prolonged and emotional conversations while the villain just stands there, totally hearing every word even though he's way too far for it to be possible (unless he added some hearing related mcguffin to his demonic upgrade), and not really doing anything of substance. Not sure if it's intentional to show how much he believes in his own advantage, or is this a thing in xianxias in general, either way, thanks for the (choked, but still) laugh, now let's see if Qing Geng can help detoxify the poison in ZYC. (Seriously, what's with cdramas and poisons?)

Ah, fuck, I knew that they showed us the red glowing eyes on Fei for a reason. Seriously, I hope WZY *burns*.

OMG the sound of Bai Jiu's bell woke ZYC up enough for him to reach for the antidote!!! Team effort once more! I love how they show us again and again that our gang's strength comes from their love for one another! 😭😭😭 (And fuckkkk, Qing Geng used her inner core for the antidote! The scene in the MV, of these three watching golden dust dissipate in front of their eyes, was of her death... oh man, I know I said I'd prefer everyone to die if it meant no one was left behind to suffer, but it's as if they heard me and went, let's start with the secondary characters who gutted you the most the first time around, shall we? 😭)

Meanwhile, the villain is still alive and well, and LL's taking the brunt of his fire attacks, while being, y'know, a *tree* demon. *Both* ZYZ and ZYC reaching out to steady him!!! What a shot! No matter what happens next, this was *so* satisfying to see. (Also, can I just say how I love LL's hairdo here, and how all the adornments are made of things you can get or make out of various tree parts! A+)

Seriously, the piece of garbage does *not* deserve such a beautiful "true form". Please die already, you've wasted enough of everyone's time. Hopefully knowing where his inner core is will help in achieving just that.

The way I cheered when PSJ finally landed a killing blow on the lackey. And then I promptly choked at the candy bit (flashed way back to The Untamed lol). How dare they make me feel emotional like thissss!

And that's the end of the ep? I feel like the girls got seriously sidelined in this one, but at least we got some badass sequences (PSJ) and some aesthetic slamming against the pillars (sorry, WX). I'm also  afraid that sending Bai Jiu away, even though done for his immediate safety, is gonna backfire horribly... only one way to find out! (Ngl, I'm really scared for what's still to come.)

On to ep 33! (Will I get any sleep tonight? Probably not. I might post the rest of the commentary only tomorrow though, I'm getting really drained.)

[musee-de-muse]

The Great Lie

DWC November 2024

Day 2: Eternal/Deceit

OC: Calinirra, Man'ari Eredar

@daily-writing-challenge

A beautiful lie is still that – a lie.

And one might think that after years unknowable... that the shame of once having believed in such a beautiful lie would fade – and it does!

Or so I had thought.

One can adapt to anything, with time – one can forget hearth and home, and grow accustomed to chaos, and hate and destruction. It was all for a greater purpose, after all. We were a chosen people, were we not? So adept in our craft, that we should be considered to serve alongside one such as Sargeras in his laborious duty.

And our most respected elders – the wisest among us, the most revered? They saw the wisdom in it – or at least two-thirds of them did, and that was enough for most of us, in the end... or rather, in the beginning. They told us that the Prophet was a fool – he didn't see what was right before us. Opportunity does not knock twice. His cowardice would only hold us back - such were the reassurances.

How could we not embrace what was to come?

But millennia of victory meant nothing, now. All that life lost. All those planets desecrated. All those souls consumed, or twisted, or sent to the Nether, or the Shadowlands... all those planets full of peoples slain, or converted or consumed – for what, now?

I don't know what I feel. I am a demon – that much is true, and always will be. And while that's not quite what we were told would happen to us... the vast swathes of time I've spent as what I am? Have not always been terrible. I delighted in what I became, in time – that is the very nature of what I became. How could I not indulge in destruction - would you reprimand a fire for burning?

But now... after a time unknowable in the Nether – after countless worlds have been sundered – the grand Crusade was over. Their leader gone, the lies proven false. The cost sunk – one would have thought.

But opportunity does not knock twice, so when the Alliance came calling... well, my work in the Legion had begun to chafe, with my loss of rank, and subsequent re-assignment. Little more than an attack dog for another, my skills wasted and my power chained – why wouldn't I trade that hateful existence on another's leash for some sort of fresh start... any fresh start?

It had all been a grand, eternal lie – and in the end, I didn't even have the power, or the clout I once held... so why not? I'm a creature of chaos, and opportunity, after all – and wouldn't it be a bit... funny?

Wouldn't it be a gas – to walk among them, to watch them whisper feverishly, and quiver with repressed fear, or loathing... or a little something else... and be able to do nothing about it? To know that their precious Alliance had welcomed her – she, one of the Legion's elite – to roam their cobbled streets. She, who - with the very blades at her hips – had perhaps even taken the lives of friends and loved ones of the very people in this city. I - who so excelled at my craft as to become a Faithbreaker of such skill and renown that even when I 'stepped on the wrong hoof'... they hadn't killed me – I'd been, instead, assigned to the ill-fated “Damned Cohort” to suffer.

I answered to a cruel master with this assignment, and became little more than a tool for the Legion... an attack dog on a short leash; I became a part of a squad of those who had earned the ire of their betters, and were now forced to take the harshest of assignments. And if permanent death met them during as much? So be it.

But not anymore. Now... the attack dog was free – and had no idea what that actually meant, as her new 'home' was the one place she'd been trying to destroy for years beyond counting.

[milesonsight]

here is why the RIPPER shows so much about Vulpes Inculta

(Im in the middle of a loud ass wedding pls send help)

1.it screams sadism

The RIPPER,... guys its in the name, it rips through your flesh and bones, designed to not kill you immediately, but to let you suffer and for its wielder to enjoy and takes its time with you. it shows how brutal Vulpes is for choosing the RIPPER over machete.

2.its a loud ass weapon.

do you guys remember that funny trip through nipton and like, how everything was burned to ashes or completely destroyed?

all that horror just because the town of nipton didn't hold up to Vulpes "personal Values" which he says it loud and clear "disloyalty". This man loves to be clear and brutal in his intentions and the RIPPER, its loud noise and how the blade buzzes mixes perfectly with the screams of his victims.

3.not too small not too big, gaint if you may

the size of this weapon perfectly fits with Vulpes physics. begin a man of legion he got muscles alright but you won't call him a warrior, neither would you call him the average joe. just like the RIPPER, its just the right amount of thickness and lenght.

thank u for coming to my ted talk now please let's talk over it so I can keep staring at my phone instead of the good ppl in here

[rachi-roo]

AAAAAHFINALLY SOMONE WHO DOES ANGELS OF DEATH

breathes

Anyway could I request a ler issac fic cause god him being a mean a sadistic ler and teaser brain go brrrrrr where he chases a reader, their worse spots being their ribs and hips

-------------{ ☆°•○•°☆ }--------------

Angels Of Death: Tickly Terror

Uh oooooh! I've been found by a fellow AOD fan 🫣 Greetings, I think I love you! XD Thanks so much for the request and your patience! Zack is such a MONSTER! I luv it 🤩

Summary: Reader is attacked by a certain serial killer who has a soft spot for people in your line of work. He won't kill you now, but he has other plans to make you suffer.

Ler!Issac, Lee!Reader

Tw: Knifes, Swearing, Cruel tiggles

--------------------☆ ☆------------------------

Well, this was not what you had in mind for a nice Friday out on the town.

Running for your life, that is.

It all happened so fast. You knew taking that shortcut down the backstreets might be a bad idea, but you thought the worst might be some bum asking for a lighter, not a crazed maniac to start chasing after you with a knife.

You glanced over your shoulder, heart pounding in your chest. He was still there. Hot on your heels and gaining. The sound of his boots and insane laughter growing louder and louder. Chills running down the back of your neck.

He's coming! He's right on you!

You feel your stomach drop as you trip, tumbling to the concrete with a thud. You spin your head round, suddenly face to face with your pursuer.

His bandage covered face inches from yours as he smiled an unsettling smile. You can smell blood on his clothes. That coppery scent was dried onto his dirty hoodie.

It felt like an eternity of staring at each other before he finally spoke.

"Not gonna beg for your life?" He asked, standing over your body with a chuckle as he toyed with the knife in his hand, feeling the blade from handle to point. "I'll make this quick if you do." He continued, lowering himself onto your waist and placing a hand over your throat, holding you in place.

Petrified, you just lay there, staring at him. Your chest heaving, heart about to jump from your ribs.

A squeak left your lips as his knife suddenly slashed towards your throat. You clench your eyes shut. Waiting for the impact-!

...Impact?

You anxiously open one eye, looking up at the attacker who now held your ID card from work as it had fallen from your pocket. He narrowed his eyes as the words.

"... Does this say nurse?" He asked, showing you the card.

You gulp, trembling as you speak. "Y-Yes... I'm a c-childrens hospice nurse... I work with orphans."

The attackers face sank as he tossed your ID aside with an aggrivated groan. "Damn it. I can't kill ya' now I know that... Damn, Ray. She made me soft!" He cursed himself as you watched on, wondering who 'Ray' was.

Though, that didn't really matter. What mattered was the fact you weren't going to die! A small sigh of relief passing your jittering lips. The feeling didn't last long though.

"However, I'm still going to have to make you scream. I went through the trouble of chasing you down after all. I've earned it." The boy nodded as he leaned closer, softly tracing the dull side of his knife up and down your side.

The feeling of the dull point dragging across your side, through your thin shirt, sent a tingling sensation across your torso. You bit your lip, biting back a smile as your fingers curled up reflexively. What if a smiling pisses him off?!

But, it tickles! So bad! The cold tone of your attacker reminded you of the situation you're in.

"Your tag said y/n... So tell me, y/n, where should I start? Don't worry, I'll keep the injuries hidden. I don't want to worry the kiddies or-... Are you fucking smiling right now?" He asked with a dumbfounded glare.

"N-No! No, I'm not! I'm really not!" You blubbered, your hands shooting up defensively as you fought down a giggle.

"Yes you are! I saw it! You we're so smiling! You think this is funny? You got some kind of pain kink or something? Youd better tell me cus' I aint here for that noise."

"No! No, I-I swear it's not that! Your knife! It- It just- Eek!" You squeal as he traced the length of your stomach with the dull blade again.

The boy smirked, a sadistic glint in his eyes as he finally put all the pieces together.

"Oooh." He chuckled.

"No! No, it's not what you think!"

"Haha, I think it's exactly what I think." He shifted his weight, trapping your arms by your side, beneath his knees. He knacked his knuckles, grinning a fanged grin as he prepared himself for the fun he was going to have with your helpless body.

He held his limber didgets out, flexing them close to your stomach to start with, revelling in the way you squeaked and tried to suck your belly in to avoid the fingers.

"I'd say sorry, but I'm really not." He chuckled before diving into your soft skin, vibrating and clawing at your tummy.

"Gh-! Haha! N-Noho! H-Hehey! Wait! WAIT! PleheEEEHE-!"

You giggle, legs kicking out behind your attacker as he dug into your tummy, chuckling with you.

"Hmm, I think you can beg better than that." He smirked, his hands shifting to ruthlessly claw at your sides. Even rolling up your shirt to attack the bare skin directly.

"WAH! S-Stahap! Please! Pleheheee-! Aha!" You yelp, twisting and turning, doing anything you can to escape.

This just eggs your attacker on. The hood of his hoodie shrouding his expression in a shadow, but you can feel him grinning at you, enjoying your suffering.

"Haha, poor little thing. Look at you, so helpless. And I'm not even hurting you! You're just too ticklish for your own good, huh?" He sneered, pinching up and down your sides, until he inched juuust too far upwards, finding your lowest ribs.

"FUHUCK! Wait!" You yelp, curling in on yourself to the best of your ability in your trapped state.

"Hm? Ooohohooo. Is that your sweet spot?" He jeered, latching onto your ribs with deadly precision, vibrating his fingertips into the sensitive dips and bumps that made up your ribcage.

A scream ripped from your mouth as he tickled you there. It really was the worst! This whole situation was a nightmare!

"NOHO! ShihiIIIIHIT! AHAAA-!... gasp AHA! Noho! NNNAAAHA!" No amount of kicking and squirming was working. This sadistic stranger had you trapped and completely at his mercy. Something he definitely wasn't going to give you.

"Take that! And that! Haha! Bet you're regretting coming out tonight now, hah? Tickle, tickle, tickle! Weak, ticklish little looser, aren't ya?" He teased, cruelly insulting you in a childish manner. Not letting up from your sensitive ribs yet.

"Pleheheee-!... gasp GAHAHAAAD!"

"I ain't no God, call me Zack." He chuckled.

"Zahack! Plehehease! Stop! Stop! Stop! StahAHAHA!" The more you begged, the more he tickled. He was truly an evil being.

Zack grinned, shifting his hands and drilling his thumbs into your hips as he spoke.

"Ooh, look at that expression. So much suffering under such a bright smile. Haha! So silly looking~ Coochie, coochie, coo~"

"NYAAHAHA! ZAAAHACK!" You arch your back, desperately trying to dislodge his vicious thumbs from your protruding hips. "Fuhuck! NnnOHO-!... *gasp* AHAHA!"

Nothing worked! Nothing was going to work! You were completely at his mercy.

Hearing your pleas, he laughed, mocking your attempts to make him stop. "Oooh, Zaaack! Please! Don't tickle me! Oh nooo! Haha! You sound so pathetic! Tickle, tickle, tickle~! How about here? Or here? Nah, back to the ribs!"

He teased and taunted, his hands dancing between various different areas of your torso before latching back onto your ribs.

As the tears pooled in your eyes, and the laughter became breathy and full of hiccups, you wondered if he would ever stop.

"HEHELP! Help-! Ahaha! H-HeheaaaAAAHA! Help mehehe! Please!"

"Calling for help now? Pff, you really are completely helpless, aren't ya?" His cruel smile sent a shiver down your spine, realising just how right he was.

"NOHO! S-ShihihahaAHA-! AH!" A yelp passed your lips as the crook buried his face into your neck, blowing a raspberry into your skin, making you shrill in ticklish delight.

He loved the sounds you were making. So pained, yet so happy! It's weird, even this killer knows that. "Haha, I wonder how long you can take this. An hour? Several hours? A day maybe?! PfffAHAHA! Let's find our, shall weeee? Yyyyy/nnnn~?"

You weren't sure how long this torture had gone on for, but the awful tickling sensations on your hips suddenly stopped. You blinked the tears from your eyes, realising that Zack was no longer sitting upon your waist.

He stood, yawning and stretching his arms as if he was the one who was tuckered out. "Aaah... Bored now. You can go." He chuckled, nudging your shoe with his.

".... Oooor you can stay on the floor? If that's what you want?" When he realised just how tired you were, he scoffed, standing over your head and grinning down at you.

"Let's put it this way, if you stay there too long, I might get all worked up and start tickling you again."

"I'M UP! I'm going!" You scramble to your feet with a sudden burst of energy. The thought of another round of tickles made you feel ill. You dashed a few feet out of his range before turning back to see... No-one.

The Tickly Terror was still out there somewhere. He's probably looking his next victim...

---------------------☆ ☆-----------------------

Thank you for reading! 😚❤️

[cringecannon]

I am back requesting more durge content.. how they might reward and punish you as they mold you into their plaything. Durge giving you a treat for performing that sacrifice so perfectly

I am SO obsessed with the way you write durge that it isn’t even funny. Hope you’re doing well 🫶

They’re incredibly dedicated to your training despite their involvement being wholly unnecessary. Honestly, they should just pawn you off onto the nearest unholy assassin, but where’s the fun in that? Getting to play with you is the highlight of their week.

There’s no shortage of rewards for good behavior or progress. While they hope you’ll learn to see viscera and blood-soaked hands as a reward in of itself, they understand it’s not to everyone’s taste. If they have to ply you with gold or pretty clothes or their head between your legs, so be it. They enjoy seeing you happy.

Unfortunately, most the ‘rewards’ are punishments to the average person. Sacrificing someone more brutally than you thought yourself capable of in the hopes that it would earn a break backfires. Now they think you’ve finally gotten a taste for violence and are all smiles as they gift you an extra victim to play with. They’d sit behind you and help of course, you did so well with the first that now you get to take it slow. They want to make an entire date out of it, candles and dinner and all.

Not even mentioning when they force you and their banite together. The only solace you can ever take when that happens is he seems to be just as displeased as you are.

Punishments are much rarer. They recognize the lifestyle they’ve forced you into is a torture all of it’s own. Never mind the fact that they believe they have as much time as they want to mold you into a perfect little weapon. There’s no urgency to this whole affair, so you have to really fuck up for them to earn any significant disappointment.

Even with good behavior, random torments are a given. They are a cruel creature- it’s in their nature to destroy. They may wake up in the middle of the night and decide that it’s the perfect time for them to carve their name into your leg again. Bloodletting is a favorite pastime, second only to seeing how long you can hold your breath for. They love to see you choke and gasp for air when they finally let you back up, laughing as you throw up water. Suffering is good for the soul, they assure you. You’ll get used to it someday, little blade. Everyone does.

A real punishment (by their definition), is reserved for only the worst actions. Attempting to kill them is expected, but if you get too close to actually doing it? It’s nothing a mock hanging couldn’t fix. Well, mock hanging for now. If you slip off the teetering bucket beneath your feet, it’ll become a true hanging in seconds.

Refusing to kill is the easiest way to earn suffering. They don’t want to force you, but they don’t have much choice when you’re being such a brat. Threatening to take a finger tends to guarantee cooperation. If you keep refusing, they’re more than willing to show you they never make empty threats.

[beanghostprincess]

God the idea of “every girls uncle ever”!Buggy is tickling me pink because of Crossguild and just how funny would it be to have Mihawk, who has a soft spot for Perona, much to his own dismay, suddenly having to be cordial to Buggy because his not quite adoptive daughter saw this weirdass clown ONCE and immediately decided that he’s her personal comfort older man? Mihawk sipping some wine while staring over the at the two disapprovingly, Perona getting Buggy involved in some bullshittery and Buggy being in hell, because I refuse to believe that even if he loves that girl to pieces he wouldn’t suffer every second he’s near her, but….. he cant do shit. He would absolutely LOVE to tell the clown what a pathetic excuse of an emperor is, getting bossed around by a teenage girl and her parade of misery ghosts…. but that would be a step to far for Perona who would immediately jump to Buggys defense and also be incredibly insulted herself. Mihawk would LOVE to bring his blade to Buggys neck as a warning for that little joke he made earlier at his expense, but Perona was laughing so hard she started to snort and he cant just do that right now for … some reason. He will drag Buggy away from makeup time to get actual work done, because he knows the only thing he will get from Perona is a pout and that she will call him a spoilsport, but his methods of intimidation towards the clown are starting to dwindle more and more rapidly.

This is incredible because I imagine Mihawk being extremely conflicted about his feelings for both of them. He cares about Perona, weirdly enough, and he isn't quite sure why, but he does. And on the other hand, he's kind of pissed she chooses to be with Buggy instead because that man is a fucking clown (derogatory) and doesn't understand why she'd be interested in him in any way. But he can't go against Perona's wishes because it's not like he's her father or, whatever- So he sits there trying to understand why he feels this way and trying to fight hard the urge of, you know, actually caring for somebody. But he does understand why they get along. They're both... Flashy. Flamboyant. He hates every second of it.

Buggy, despite absolutely adoring the menace Perona is, is still exhausted after being dragged around to every little one of her schemes. He has to suffer the consequences (spending time with her) of his actions (telling her he liked her once). She adores him and finds him incredibly interesting to be around because, well, he is the most interesting out of the three Cross Guild members. Also, she's always so harsh on him saying he's a loser and a depressed clown who needs comfort because I think the same thing that happened with Usopp (not being affected by her powers because of already vivid self-deprecating thoughts) would happen to Buggy. So she feels responsible for his happiness, kind of. She's actually a sweetheart.

It'd be really funny to turn this into something romantic between Buggy and Mihawk. Make it Bughawk. Turn Mihawk's fondness for Perona into a fondness for Buggy, somehow, and Crocodile notices he's been acting a bit softer around the clown lately. The funny thing about this is that Mihawk actively has no fucking idea why he's now so... Interested in not hurting Buggy. Seeing Perona and the clown together makes him feel things. He hates it. Make it stop.

[merrivia]

I’ve finally read Pet and am kicking myself I didn’t read it sooner!

I’ve measured out the short stories like I’m nibbling on chocolate, Charlie Bucket style, and I was leaving this till last partly because of that, and partly because I didn’t feel that interested in Ancel (sorry Ancel, I take it back).

It’s fascinating reading about events that occur in Captive Prince but not from Damen’s POV. The idea that everyone has complexities under the surface, and that things aren't always as they seem, is only understood by Damen negatively in the first half of Captive Prince I think. Veretians are untrustworthy and slippery and Machiavellian. And that's not, not true! The Veretian court IS a pit of vipers. But people are also still human, and it's that extra step of understanding the humanity underneath even these acidic, performative snakes which is interesting. Ancel is sharp and smart (and really needs to be taught how to read forthwith). Berenger is morally admirable, and isn't actually sleeping with him. Vannes cares about Berenger in her own small way. Laurent emits a great deal of power and is "instantly commanding" to others (but not to Damen, which must have really infuriated him).

Here’s some more snippets of my thoughts in general:

Waxing is canon! So interesting. Why does no grown man ever shave in the books also? Why isn't attending, also shaving? I think we'll just have to accept that as Pacat's choice. Maybe the only blade she wanted between them was the ghost of swords from a long ago fight/swords in the present?

Isagoras the writer/poet- any connection to Isagoras the historical figure who was embroiled in a power play in terms of Athenian politics and democracy? Who Aristotle called ‘friend of tyrants’? Obviously he’s not meant to be that figure but is it a sort of irony and foreshadowing for the political choices Berenger has to make?

And Akielon writing/poetry is popular among men with status? Interesting. You wonder if Laurent approved a poem waxing lyrical about Ios, or really anything that suggested the Akielons aren't barbarians.

I feel as if Damen would know this poem, and read it to Laurent as part of courting him 🥺

Interesting to see a first impression of Laurent from the viewpoint of someone not instantly obsessed with him- severe and harsh, but no mention of his beauty till later.

I mean this nicely but Damen really has no idea how naturally arrogant and superior he comes across as in this situation, does he? I mean, it’s completely understandable if you think of Akielon society, and how he’s been raised and treated; in fact it would be implausible any other way based on his character traits too. He’s just so bad at pretending to be a slave even as his life is at risk if they find out he’s a prince 😂 oh Damen /pets his curls/. And oh, a *lion* you say....

Just really bad at acting servile, it's so funny. Love him.

Speaking of Lamen, it is a little unsettling how quickly Damen starts to fall for Laurent in Captive Prince and how Laurent truly does hate him, yet…is clearly on some molecular level, attracted to him, I think? It’s just a really heartbreaking and stressful dynamic. His "complete attention" on him...let's face it, if Damen had looked like Govart, Laurent wouldn't be fixated in the same way (I mean this nicely).

Oh my baby Laurent. You know this isn’t right. Are you reenacting a past trauma? Making him suffer what you suffered? Even if you aren’t, your flaw is letting your hatred and anger blind you to your morals. (Lucky a man is going to fall in love with you who is pretty much always on your side even when you don’t always deserve it…). Damen will help you be more honourable /pats blond head/

"Locked” is an apt word isn’t it, considering all that ties them together (and not to mention the gold cuffs and collar…) and oof, Laurent's sexual domination in this scene is quite apparent.

and…

I mean, we all know this is sex by proxy and so does Ancel, who just met Laurent and Damen!

And lastly, I am team Berenger. He's a Good Man and would probably get on pretty well with Torveld and Nikandros, the other dark haired, loyal and responsible men in the trilogy.

Nice to see someone see commoners as people all year round (not simply when their villages are being massacred and their humanity is thrown into stark relief by it)!

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Can you do a fic where Peter has a panic attack/night terror and Wade calms him down?

Hey Anon,

As someone who is going through lots of ups and downs. I needed a comfort fic so thank you for requesting this. Hope you enjoy it and that you are doing okay <3 XO

Warnings: Throwing up, graphic description of panic, suicidal thoughts, death of loved ones, dark stuff, Spidey-Pool stuff at the end because I couldn't help myself.

Has anyone ever had a panic attack that lasted days? 

Peters's hands shook and he cursed as he spelled the words wrong over and over. 

Google: Yes. 

Fuck. 

He scrunched his eyes up and tried to breathe through the cold ice that was running through his body. He watched his fingers and palms go pale as the pressure on his chest threatened to crush him. 

The feelings were inescapable. His body reacted to them as if it could somehow outrun his mind. Everything was vibrating, the sound of the electricity made him nauseous. 

He laid down on the bathmat in front of the tub. Aunt May had gotten it for him because she hated the ripped-up hand towel that he had been using. 

Aunt May. 

Another wave of guilt crashed onto him with enough force to make him heave his tired body to the toilet again. Her face flashed before him, he could even hear the sound of her calling his name out in shock as he knew she would if she had seen him like this. A Sob broke through him and he wondered how it was possible to cry, throw up, and hyperventilate at the same time. None of it felt survivable, so maybe he would die like this. 

Death would be a welcome friend at this point. It had been three days since he was last on patrol, three days since he saved that blonde woman with blue eyes. She looked so much like Gwen they could have been sisters. He had more people waiting for him on the other side than he did here. He wouldn’t have to worry about food or how he was going to pay rent this month. He thought it was funny that out of all the things he had fought and lived through he would die from a panic attack. His mind was racing, jumping back from memory to memory. 

He felt their absence roll through him again. 

The pain in his muscles was enough to make his vision hazy. He was so far under that he didn't notice the door open. 

“Don’t freak out” He imagined Wade’s voice calling out to him and felt bad that he would be leaving Wade behind. He felt hands press against him. One of Wade's massive hands was pressed to the center of his chest holding him up. The other was on the back of his neck lifting his head from the toilet seat.  

“Wade,” He mumbled. His eyes struggled to focus but the harsh light of the bathroom was reflecting off of a large black and red mass. 

“Hey, Spidey. Don’t freak out.” He said softly. Why would this freak him out more than he was already freaked out? His face. Wade could see his face. Fuck. 

He wanted to shout at him but ended up throwing up again. Wade helped support him by taking some of the burden off of his sore muscles. The toilet flushed and Wade pressed a bottle of sports drink into his hand.

Peter shook his head. He didn't want help. He deserved to suffer like this. 

“What happened?” Wade whispered. Peter only shook his head again. He watched as Wade made himself comfortable leaning against the wall next to the toilet. He thought of a way to explain but his body started to feel cold again and another wave started. 

Wade pulled him against his chest. It was horrible at first. The embarrassment somehow amplified everything. He felt Wade struggle to get his glove off. 

Curiosity made his eyes snap open. He’d wanted to see Wade’s skin since he’d met him. He felt Wade’s skin before he saw it. Wade ran his hand under Peter’s sweaty T-shirt, his skin was heavily textured but still soft and warm. Wade’s hand stopped at the space between his shoulder blades and for unknown reasons, it grounded him. How he could possibly feel any peace crumpled up in Wade’s lap on his cramped bathroom floor was beyond him. His other hand pushed Peter’s hair back in what would be described as soothing. Peter didn't think Wade was capable of these types of things. But here he was calming Peter down with comforting sounds, and holding him tightly. 

“Doesn't feel like a fever.” Peter was grateful that he didn't remove his hand. “Thought maybe I’d have to burn down that hot dog stand for giving you food poisoning.” 

“Wade No.” Was all he could manage. Wade let out a loud laugh that Peter mostly heard through his chest. 

“This about the Blonde then?” Peter reached for the toilet and Wade helped him again. 

“You lose someone like her?” He pressed and Peter dry heaved choking on a sob. “So you have a Vanessa too?” 

There was a sadness in Wade's voice that broke through whatever was isolating him. His instinct was to stop everything to comfort Wade. He sat up and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. 

“Wade - “ He said in a shaky voice, but Wade saw it coming though.

“If you drink a few sips I won’t feel so sad.” His tone was joking but there was a firmness that told Peter that he’d be drinking the red drink if he wanted to or not. 

He took a sip and tried to take a deep breath. 

“Good boy,” Wade said in a genuine tone that brought heat to Peter’s face. 

You're going to die anyway 

This thought calmed him down slightly. 

“You're a spider who needs a plan. Lucky that you're in luck - I’m a man who has a very big plan.” Wade’s mask winked and Peter groaned. He couldn't stomach a revenge plan right now. “Your apartment is very hot, it has no food, and is overall very depressing. My apartment is superior so I’m spider-napping you. You can try to resist. But we both know you can’t really resist me.” Wade winked again and Peter could see the effort his friend was making for him. 

The thought of being alone made the part of him that wanted to survive reach out and grab Wade’s arm tightly. 

"It will be okay. We can figure it out together" his voice was serious and Peter felt his words. They made everything better and so much worse at the same time. 

Peter realized that Wade still had his glove off. He ran his hand down Wade's arm and gripped hold of his hand before he could pull away. 

Even without his magical expression-filled mask, Peter knew his face was scrunched up in discomfort. 

"My name's Peter." He said, trying to give Wade something back. 

"Peter Parker, born August 10th, 1996, social insurance number is -" Wade started but Peter held up his other hand letting out a groan of defeat.

"When- h-how?" He was angry but his teeth started to chatter again and it came out more scared than anything. 

"I've known for like at least three years," Wade said in an apologetic tone. “Did some research on you when we started working together all the time. I knew you were young I just wanted-” 

“To violate my boundaries,” Peter said it in an almost playful tone. 

“Protect you.” Wade said firmly. Tears started to spill down Peter's face again. Someone was here to protect him? There was a huge absence inside him he had felt his whole life after his dad passed, then it was a massive black hole after Uncle Ben. He didn't know what to do. 

“I want you to let me die.” Peter squeezed his eyes shut and he hoped Wade would understand. 

“No dice. I’m the captain now kiddo” Wade got up and Peter flinched. “Give me ten” 

In less than ten minutes Wade had packed up a bag of lord knows what from all over his apartment. Peter sat there hugging his knees. He was almost afraid of what Wade’s apartment was like. 

“Wade, are you sure you want me around?” Peter said in a whisper knowing Wade would hear him. “I’m not the best company.” 

“Fuck off,” Wade said back from down the hall. “Let's go baby, Spider-napping is now in progress.” 

Wade had him stand in his living room as he wrapped Peter up in a large flat sheet and covered his face with a pillowcase. Peter was barely able to stand so he just accepted this was his fate. This should set his panic off but Wade picked him up and carried him, no choice but to just let it happen. 

You're going to die anyway. 

Wade shoved him into the back of a taxi. Peter looked like a hostage or a dead body, panic ran through him until he focused on what Wade was saying. He was rattling off some kind of elaborate story about how he captured a ballerina who was also an arms dealer, who was actually an alien. Peter tried to follow along with the situation and wondered who the cab driver was. The man was laughing along, giving Wade praise. 

Then Peter realized this must be his friend, and how Wade gets around the city. He listened to the rest of the story and had a lot of questions about if Wade had really retired his old ways. 

“Mr.Pool, I don't think your lover would approve.” 

“Ah, he’ll come around Dopinder. He can’t resist me.” A weird feeling washed over Peter, another emotion that added a weird burning sensation in his stomach. 

“Well, good luck getting the Ballerina back to her mother ship.” 

“Thanks for the ride. Crisp High Five.” Peter heard the slap of a high-five before the door flew open and he was getting dragged out of the back seat. Wade picked him up and he hated how much he wanted to stay like that. 

The journey up to Wade’s apartment was beyond strange. He greeted the doorman and the concierge-like he had a bundle of flowers in his hand, not a body wrapped up in a sheet. The elevator ride was smooth and took forever. All this meant was Wade lived in a nice apartment. Peter tried to wrap his head around this.

Eventually, they were inside and Wade unwrapped him carefully. 

“There, no one knows that Peter Parker knows Deadpool.” He smiled triumphantly. Suddenly the sheets made sense, Peter hadn't even thought about that. 

“Thanks.” 

“No problemo baby boy. Now you want to crash on the couch or go back to the bathroom floor?” 

“Ah,” Peter looked at the very large leather couch in front of him. “Couch is fine.” 

Wade gave him a nod. Peter sat on the side of the couch closest to the kitchen. Wade came back with a fluffy Hello Kitty blanket. He wrapped it around Peter and he was grateful as his apartment clearly had AC. Wade kicked off his boots by the door and slid into some blue crocks. 

Peter looked at the massive TV in front of him, then to the side at the massive view of the city shining through the windows. His kitchen was huge and nice. Everything was surprisingly clean and comfortable. 

Wade started banging around in the kitchen and Peter was happy to sit curled up and watch him. After a moment Wade came by to give him another sports drink. Before going back to the stove. 

Chicken and rice were placed in a bowl in front of him. His mind started to spin out and his stomach hurt.

“Try your best. It will make you feel better.” Wade said gently sitting next to him on the couch. Wade flicked through some channels before landing on a Spongebob rerun. 

“You must like Spongebob, being a 96 kid.” Peter nodded in response trying to think of the last time he watched TV or Spongebob. He couldn't afford cable, and even if he could between his internship, work, and running around the city, he barely had time to sleep. 

They both sat in silence and Peter felt like a little kid again. He hadn’t had a home-cooked meal that wasn't instant noodles since Aunt May passed seven months ago. His throat got tight. He took a deep breath and continued eating, bite by bite. 

“Want more?” Wade asked with an eyebrow lifted. Peter surprised himself by nodding. “You think your stomach can handle the sauce?” 

“I think so.” He hadn't noticed that Wade’s had sauce on it. After trying a bite Peter was suddenly very happy he survived the night. “You can cook?” His voice was strangled and bewildered. 

“Yep.” 

“Oh,” Peter nodded and then looked at Wade and laughed. “Lots I don't know about you, huh?” 

“Oh yeah. Normally when we hang out you're freaking out about something, and then we round up bad guys. Then we eat and sort of talk about nothing, then home.”

He realized that they could have talked about lots of stuff if Wade knew his identity the whole time. 

“Erm, since you know im me - I’m doing an internship right now, I'm working in biophysics and biochemistry. I work at a newspaper selling pictures of Spiderman and various crimes. My Aunt died seven months ago from a drunk driver, and I’m kind of a mess from it still.” Peter felt a sense of relief talking about it. “Gwen died because when I webbed her to stop her falling, the force snapped her neck.” 

His body was twisting up into knots again from the vulnerability of everything. It wasn’t fair to put this on Wade. 

“My mum died of Cancer, and my dad beat the shit out of me till I joined the special forces, and killed a lot of people. Didn't want to kill certain people, got an honorable discharge, and couldn't work. Became a mercenary, killed more people for better money, fell in love. Got super duper deluxe cancer, went to an experimental lab, and got the shit kicked out of me again until my mutation kicked in. Won the girl back, got revenge, then lost the girl on our anniversary because I missed one and she got shot.” 

“I had no idea, Wade - I” Peter whispered. 

“Dude shut up,” Wade said, shoving Peter’s shoulder. “Now that we are officially best friends, let's get you into bed.” 

Peter wanted to resist but also didn't want to be rude. Wade took him into a guest bedroom that was filled to the brim with Golden Girls Merchandise. Wade showed him where the bathroom was and how the shower worked then left him alone with his bag of clothes. 

Peter sat on the edge of the bed for a moment trying to process what the hell had happened. They had been friends, but Peter never actually considered Wade a true friend, not enough to get to know him. Guilt started to bubble up again. Normally Wade just flirted with Peter and told him jokes. Normally if Peter wasn't trying to stop him from killing someone, he was beyond flustered and overwhelmed.

Peter took a quick shower and prayed that he would make it through the night without having a night terror. 

Things started off okay. Until they weren’t. Everyone was suffering just out of his reach. Green Goblin crushed his bones as he struggled to get to them. Gwen’s scream echoed loudly. 

“Peter.” Someone was shaking him. “Fuck.” He was barely conscious as he felt Wade pull him down from something. Once in his arms, he gave Peter another Shake. He tried to open his eyes but his body was operating on nothing again. “Moving you next to me,” Wade mumbled something about sheets. 

He was on his back and he felt Wade move partially over top of him. His arm was across his shoulders and his leg was slotted between Peter’s. Peter didn't understand, but he also didn't care. The weight on him caused his body to stop shaking. 

“Nothing going to get through me to hurt you, baby boy.” Peter felt Wade’s words press into the side of his head. 

A different feeling rose up inside Peter. One he realized he would have to surrender to. 

______Extras_______

Waking up entangled in Wade was strange. He was on his side curled into Wade’s chest. He felt the way his arms cradled him and for a moment he never wanted to be anywhere else. 

“Morning baby boy.” His voice was husky and his hand squeezed the back of Peter’s neck gently. A moan escaped Peter’s mouth and he finally understood why that name caused him so much embarrassment.

“You are the worst sleeper ever,” Wade said in a light tone while running his hands through Peter’s hair. “I had to get you off the ceiling. I thought you were possessed or some shit. Tried to hold you down but you chilled out. Chased me all over the bed.” 

Peter didn't think this is what friends did with each other. So he thought he’d just enjoy whatever this was and see where the lines were. He nuzzled his face into Wade’s neck. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled. Wade smelled good, beyond good. Peter wanted to roll in it, bathe in it. Wade just pulled him closer. 

“S’alright. I enjoyed it. It was nice being the one getting chased this time.” 

Before Peter could react Wade continued. 

Peter was scared. What if something happened to Wade? - Nothing would happen to Wade. 

“I have an empty room. If you want to team up. There's always food, AC and heating. We spend all our free time together anyway.” Wade mumbled. 

“Sometimes the cancer comes back, I’m pretty useless on those days, it would be nice to have someone around ya know.” 

“Like your regenerative power just stops?” There was an edge of panic in his voice. 

“It just slows down sometimes if I  overuse it. Not enough to kill me, trust me.” Wade said and Peter didn't like the thought of him hurting.

“Do friends normally erm -” Peter asked anxiously, he didn't know how to ask the question. 

“Peter, at least give your body a few days before the next crisis,” Wade said his hold on Peter tightening slightly. 

“Who said it was a crisis?” Peter wasn't sure what the hell came over him. This was when he realized that his face was pressed into Wade's neck. An obvious distinction between where the collar of his T-shirt was and where the skin of his neck was. 

 Peter finally opened his eyes and pulled away, resisting Wade’s attempt to keep him in place, and looked up. Wade’s face was beyond scared. His body was covered in hypertrophic scarring. There was no beginning or end. But his eyes were what gutted Peter. 

He’d been dodging Wade’s flirting for years on the premise of never letting another person close enough to hurt them, well, and not knowing what the hell to do about it. Wade provided something that was so special, so hard to find. He genuinely made Peter feel safe. His Spider senses flat-out didn't work on Wade. No matter how awful the things he had done, he always wanted to be good enough to work with Peter. 

“Do you often kidnap ballerinas and haul them up to your apartment?” 

“What? Oh, no. Well, she needed help, Peter. I couldn't just leave her here selling alien weapons to the criminals of New York. She just needed some cash to get home to her galaxy.” Wade shrugged. 

“That would be a deal breaker for me,” Peter said with a smile. He watched Wade’s face contort into a look of confusion in real life. No mask. 

“What kind of deal are we making?” Wade asked seriously. 

“What kind of deal do-” Peter was 85% sure they were flirting, or at least that he was trying to flirt.

“No, don’t do that.” Wade said firmly. 

Wade pulled him in against his chest again and he was happy they didn't have to talk it out right now. Peter just wanted to rest. 

“I like this” He wiggled his body. “But friends dont exactly do this. Or at least feel this way when they do it.” He bit his lip. “I havent really got further than that.” 

[nyoxt]

8, 13, 50 for Mutt and 9, 16, 36 for Belrod :D 💛

Mutt: [8] How open they are about their true feelings, both positive and negative?  She's more open with negative ones- if she's annoyed or angry-you will know about it, if not verbally than with body language/expressions. With positive feelings she's pretty much very closed. You'll need to pull those out of her with the tongs. While trying to not get shot or kicked.

[13] What kind of sense of humor do they have, if any? Mutt has little sense of humor and it's mostly dark/sarcastic. If she jokes she does it with the straightest face and blunt/dry delivery. Surprisingly her most usual “jokes” are pranks- and those used to be quite sadistic/bullying in her younger years- like shooting someone in the foot and laughing at the resulted suffering, but later became less violent. I mean, it's still got a violent flail to it, but it's more of a force of a habit than realized intention. But when her pranks are actually funny- Coyote might bestow upon her some small boons, like a good luck for a short time or a magic buff. [50] What are they really good and really bad at? Mutt is very good with guns, inflicting violence, following orders, decent at planning combat encounters. Can be a pretty good leader, but not enthusiastically. She’s rather bad with magic. She’s been awakened since her teen age, but never seriously worked on her abilities or connected with it much, thinking that guns/rifles are a more reliable way to fight. Aaaand she's especially bad at forming healthy connections with other people- because for the majority of her life she used to stick to the meanest strongest groups she could get into, with strongly reinforced hierarchies on top of that - so forming new relationships which are not grounded within strength or combat experience- is h a r d. And it’s also made harder because Mutt can’t exactly realize the roots of this problem, doesn’t know what help to ask for, and doesn’t want to ask for help because it is something awkward and being awkward is a sign of weakness and being weak will get you to the bottom of the food chain-> the cycle continues Belrod: [9] What is their love language?  Gifts- he looooves to bring people his favorite ppl things they want/like; actions of service; words of affection. Many many words of affection. Screams of affections even- if he befriends you he might scream from the rooftops how awesome and cool you are and how much he loves you. Literally, like, climbing on some roof and screaming. [16] Do they easily rely on others to help them out, or prefer doing everything themselves? Bel was always a perfect team player, he’s very good at finding his place and use in a team. And growing up with a rather big family+a huge extended family and in a tightly knit community- he knows when and how and who to ask for help and how to rely on others! His challenge during Origins+Awakening was actually in learning to do things alone sometimes and make important decisions by himself. [36] Do they own items that have sentimental value? -The boots his mother made him. He couldn't walk in them for the long travels because they were a bit too tight, but they were always in his backpack. Bel gifted them to Morrigan when she said she likes the embroidery on the boots. Because he thinks that things are the happiest when used for their purpose, and will bring more luck this way than when buried in the bag.

-his mother's tiny knife. It's not very useful in serious combat, but it's easy to conceal and is great for surprise stabbings. He hates when people insult its size/usefulness, and threatens to “put it in your eye and see how funny this “toothpick” will look up close”.

-Alistair's rose. Bel keeps it dried between the pages of his journal.

-"Fang" dagger. Bel finds blade's shape hard to get used to, but it belonged to his mother, so he loves and cherishes it. 

As you can see- he loves his mom a lot.