#i must subject them to the torments i love him

[kazehita]

(you feel a tug on your stomach)

[whosscruffylooking]

Militiae Species Amor Est II

Militiae species amor est - "Love is a kind of war."

Re-read Part I Now!

a/n: if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know in the comments!

warnings: // a small threat of violence is made between Iris and her partner, but no physical contact is made. canon typical violence.

word count: 4.2k

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You step cautiously into the grand halls of the estate, the place you once roamed as a little servant girl, where your bare feet had once echoed softly against the cold marble. The air is thick with the weight of memories, each one pressing heavily against your chest. This was the house where you had grown up, where you had once been invisible, and where your life had irrevocably intertwined with his.

A voice pulls you from your thoughts. It rings out, familiar and poised, yet carrying a tension you haven’t heard before.

“Iris. It has been quite some time.”

You turn sharply, your breath catching as you face Lucilla, the mistress of this house—and the mother of the man you’ve spent a lifetime aching for. She stands before you, as elegant and commanding as you remember, her beauty untouched by the years. For a moment, you falter, caught between the awe she still inspires and the fury simmering just beneath your surface. But there’s no time to linger on reverence. Not now.

“We need to help Lucius escape,” you say, your voice steady despite the fire raging in your chest.

Lucilla’s expression hardens, her posture as composed as ever. “You are in no position to plot something like this. An engaged woman. A woman of low birth who has risen to a place of promise.” She steps closer, her gaze piercing, as if to drive the point deeper. “It isn’t safe for you.”

Her words land like a blow. You bristle, your hands curling into fists at your sides as anger floods through you. “You mean to insult me? When you know—when you must know—that I have loved your son since childhood?” Your voice rises, trembling with the weight of years left unspoken. “Do you truly believe that I could ever forget him? Forget the way we laughed, the way we cried, the way you sent him away as if he were nothing but an inconvenience? I have not had a single night of peaceful rest since that day! Not one!”

Lucilla’s carefully composed mask cracks, but you don’t stop. The words pour out, sharp and unrelenting. “And you? As his mother, do you feel nothing? No anguish, no torment? Or do you simply find it easier to look away, to let him suffer alone? Now he’s here—he’s here, Lucilla—and you expect me to sit back, to watch him fight the same fight that took his father from him? With no attempt to save him, no attempt to shield him from even more pain?”

The silence that follows feels deafening. For a moment, Lucilla looks at you as though she’s been struck. Her lips part, trembling with words that won’t come. Then, to your shock, her face crumples, and tears begin to spill down her cheeks.

She crosses the space between you in an instant, wrapping you in an embrace that is both unexpected and suffocating. Her voice shakes as she speaks. “I subjected one child to a life of pain. I—I couldn’t bear to see you suffer the same. Don’t you see? I’ve only ever wanted you to find peace, Iris. Contentment. That’s why—” She pulls back, her hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “That’s why when Caius’ father approached me, I agreed. I thought he could give you the life you deserved, one free of sorrow. I never meant to make you feel betrayed.”

You push her hands away, stepping back as the weight of her confession settles over you like a leaden cloak. “Peace?” Your voice is bitter, sharp as broken glass. “Do you truly believe I could ever find peace without him? All I ever wanted was your son. Not your pity. Not a life designed to ease your guilt.”

Tears well in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You straighten your spine, your voice unwavering. “If you truly cared about me, you would have sent me with him. Instead, you left us both to live lives filled with nothing but longing and regret. So save your excuses, Lucilla. If you truly care now, then tell me—” Your voice hardens, each word a command. “Tell me the plan to rescue Lucius.”

And she does. Through trembling breaths and tear-filled eyes, Lucilla tells you the plan—how her husband, Acacius, will orchestrate Lucius’s escape from the prison. She explains the carefully laid steps, each one steeped in risk, each one reliant on precision. But there’s one missing piece.

“Someone needs to warn him,” she says, her voice wavering as she meets your gaze. “He has to know what’s coming, or he’ll resist. He won’t trust it.”

The moment hangs heavy between you, her words an unspoken plea. You don’t hesitate.

“I’ll do it,” you say firmly, the fire in your chest burning brighter now. “I’ll warn him.”

Lucilla’s eyes widen, her lips parting as if to protest, but you shake your head, cutting her off before she can speak.

“No one else knows him like I do,” you continue. “He’ll listen to me. He’ll trust me.”

For a moment, Lucilla studies you, her expression a war between doubt and something that almost looks like hope. Then, finally, she nods, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her choice.

“Be careful,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. But you’re already turning away, your mind focused on one thing: reaching Lucius.

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The corridors of the barracks stretch before you like an endless void, every shadow a whisper of your guilt, every creak of the stone beneath your feet a reminder of what you stand to lose. Wrapped in a dark cloak, the cool air bites at your skin, but the ache in your chest burns hotter. You cling to the cover of night as you make your way toward Ravi, a gladiator-turned-medic who once saved soldiers from the edge of death. Tonight, you hope he’ll save you in a different way.

When you reach his room, you knock softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Ravi.”

The door creaks open, his wary eyes scanning the hall before they settle on you. “What are you doing here?” he hisses. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near this place.”

“I won’t tell you the details,” you reply quickly, your voice trembling. “If anyone questions you, I don’t want you to lie on my behalf. All I ask is that you point me toward Hanno—let me speak with him privately.”

Ravi’s expression hardens, torn between caution and compassion. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he nods. “You shouldn’t do this,” he murmurs, but he leads you through the labyrinthine halls. When he stops outside a cell, his voice is heavy with warning. “He’s in here. Be quick.”

Ravi pushes the door open slightly, just enough for the man inside to hear. “Someone is here to see you, Hanno,” he announces.

Lucius turns at the sound of his name, his face hardening the moment he sees you. His jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing before he looks away sharply. “I have nothing to say to her,” he bites out, his voice rough, almost broken.

Your heart twists painfully at his words, but you nod at Ravi, signaling for him to let you in anyway. He hesitates, but when he sees the determination in your eyes, he steps back, locking the door behind you as you slip into the dimly lit cell.

Lucius stands with his back to you, his hands balled into fists at his sides. His silence is deafening, but you don’t let it deter you. You step closer, the ache in your chest swelling with every step. Tears sting your eyes as you finally find the words you’ve been rehearsing in your mind since the moment you decided to come here.

“I cannot begin to express how sorry I am,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “For how I treated you. For what I said.”

He doesn’t move, but you can see the slight tension in his shoulders. You press on, desperate to reach him.

“I never should have assumed you would return to this place—to the pain, to the life you’ve fought so hard to escape—and risk everything for the very place that destroyed your family. It was selfish of me to ask, selfish to think I had that right. I suppose these emotions, these feelings I’ve tried so hard to bury, have clouded my judgment.”

His breathing slows, the air between you thick with words left unsaid. You take another step, your voice breaking now.

“But know this, Lucius: you are far more than just a gladiator. Even before I saw you in those cursed games, you were so much more to me. You always have been. You were the boy who gave me his last piece of bread when I had nothing. The boy who made me laugh when the world felt too heavy. The boy whose soul captured mine long before I knew what love even was.”

His shoulders slump slightly, and though he doesn’t turn, you see his hand tremble. The silence stretches, heavy with everything you’re too afraid to ask. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, raw with pain.

“And yet you stood there, questioning who I was,” he murmurs. “Doubting the choices I made to survive. Do you know what it’s like to have someone you love look at you as though you’re a stranger?”

The words cut deep, sharp as any blade, and tears spill down your cheeks. You move closer, desperate to bridge the distance, to close the chasm that has grown between you.

“I was wrong,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I was so wrong. But I swear to you, Lucius, I have never stopped seeing the boy you were. And I will never stop loving the man you’ve become.”

Lucius stares at you, his eyes swimming with emotions too tangled to name. The air between you crackles, heavy with unspoken words and the years of longing that have built into this single, fraught moment. You search his face for a sign that your words have reached him, that the wall he’s built is beginning to crumble.

Lucius's gaze burns into yours, his expression a tempest of anguish and desire, before he moves. His hands are on you in an instant, rough but careful, as though he's afraid you'll vanish if he doesn't hold tight enough. He presses you against the cold, damp wall of the cell, the chill of the stone seeping through your cloak and biting into your skin. It's grounding, sharp against the heat that erupts between you as his lips claim yours.

The kiss is everything you've imagined and nothing like it all at once-wild, desperate, and unrelenting. His hands frame your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if to memorize the feel of you. His lips are firm, demanding, pouring years of suppressed longing into the kiss. You can feel his ragged breaths mingling with yours, and the faint taste of salt from your shared tears lingers between you.

Your hands find his chest, trembling as they trace over the worn fabric of his tunic and the hard planes of his body. His heart is pounding beneath your palms, as wild and erratic as your own. When your fingers curl into the fabric to pull him closer, he growls low in his throat—a sound that sends a shiver racing down your spine.

The cold wall presses unyieldingly against your back as he leans into you, his body a solid, unmovable force. The contrast of cold stone and his scorching heat sets your senses ablaze. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as if he could somehow fuse the two of you together, and the pressure of his touch ignites a fire that consumes you whole.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you both struggle to catch your breath. His lips hover near yours, as though the distance is too much to bear, and his voice, rough and low, brushes over your skin.

 "Do you understand now?" he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. "Do you see what you've done to me? You've been the only thing keeping me alive, Iris. Even when I hated the world, I still loved you."

Your tears spill freely as you clutch at his tunic, your voice trembling. "I see it, Lucius. I see it, and I feel it, because l've loved you just as fiercely.”

He tilts your chin up, his dark eyes softening, and his thumb brushes tenderly across your jaw. "Then let there be no more fear," he whispers before capturing your lips again.

This kiss is softer but no less consuming, filled with a desperate hope that perhaps the two of you, against all odds, can still claim the love that's been waiting for so long.

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The sun blazes mercilessly as the crowd fills the arena, their cheers deafening and bloodthirsty. Your seat offers a clear view of the sand-covered pit, where the fighters enter with stoic faces and heavy chains. Among them is Lucius. Even in the sea of bodies, your eyes find him instantly.

He walks with his head held high, his shoulders squared. You can see the fire burning in him now—a determination that wasn’t there before, knowing that people are ready to rescue him. The weight of hope, of knowing freedom waits just beyond the reach of this hellish stage, has reignited something in him. Yet, the sight of him under the watchful eyes of guards and the jeering crowd still twists your stomach with dread.

Your fiancé, Caius, sits beside you, oblivious to the storm raging within you. His hand rests possessively on your arm as if to remind everyone—and perhaps himself—of who you belong to.

When the fight begins, Lucius is relentless. His movements are sharper, faster, more focused than ever before. You watch in awe as he disarms one opponent and dodges another’s blade with a grace that feels almost otherworldly. But it’s not enough to calm your nerves. Every strike, every blow he lands only tightens the knot in your chest.

And then it happens. A spear slices across his shoulder, leaving a vivid trail of crimson in its wake. He stumbles, his hand instinctively going to the wound, and for a moment, your world stops.

You stand without thinking, your breath catching in your throat. “Lucius,” you whisper, though the name escapes like a prayer rather than a call.

Caius turns sharply to you, his grip on your arm tightening. “What are you doing?” he hisses, his voice low but sharp. “Sit down, Iris.”

But you can’t. Your heart is pounding too loudly, drowning out his words. All you can see is the blood staining Lucius’s tunic, the grimace of pain that briefly flashes across his face before he forces himself back into the fight.

“Iris!” Caius snaps, his voice rising now. “This is unseemly. People are watching!”

You don’t care. The moment the fight ends and Lucius is escorted out, you wrench free from Caius’s grasp and run. His angry protests fade behind you as your sandals slap against the stone corridors leading to the medic chambers.

When you burst through the door, Ravi looks up in surprise. Lucius sits on a stool, blood dripping from his shoulder as Ravi prepares to clean the wound. His gaze snaps to you, and for a moment, he freezes, the stoic mask slipping to reveal something raw and unguarded.

“What are you doing here?” Ravi asks, his tone filled with warning.

But Lucius speaks first, his voice low and strained. “Iris.” Your name on his lips feels like both a question and an anchor.

You cross the room in a rush, ignoring Ravi’s protests and Lucius’s raised brow. “Let me,” you say softly, reaching for the cloth in Ravi’s hand. Your fingers tremble as you press it against the wound, but you don’t flinch.

Lucius watches you, his gaze piercing. “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs, but there’s no anger in his voice—only concern.

“And you shouldn’t be out there,” you reply, your voice breaking. “But here we are.”

His hand rises, hesitating for a moment before it brushes against yours, smearing your skin with his blood. “I’ll be fine,” he says, though his eyes betray him.

“No, you won’t,” you whisper, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Not if I lose you.”

Ravi clears his throat awkwardly, stepping back. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he mutters, leaving the room.

Lucius exhales shakily, his gaze never leaving yours. “Iris, you have to be careful. If Caius—”

“Let Caius think what he will,” you interrupt, your voice trembling with conviction. “I won’t sit by and do nothing while you suffer.”

In the space of a breath, his restraint snaps. "Damn Caius," he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse, just before his lips capture yours.

The kiss is wild and desperate, like a clash of wills—a battle neither of you is willing to lose.

His hands tighten around your waist as yours tangle in his hair, the metallic taste of blood faint on his lips, a reminder of the wounds he's endured. He kisses you with the fervor of a man who's fought too long to deny what he feels, each movement urgent and unyielding.

He lifts you onto the nearby table, the rough wood cold beneath your legs as papers and tools clatter to the ground, forgotten. You gasp against his mouth, but he doesn't falter, his body pressing into yours as if to prove something-to you, to himself, to the world that's tried to keep you apart.

Outside, the sound of footsteps halts, followed by a frustrated sigh. Ravi's voice mutters something inaudible, and you know he's standing there, trying to give you privacy while also likely cursing your recklessness.

Lucius pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the narrow space between. "This is madness," he whispers, his voice rough and thick with emotion.

"Then let it be madness," you reply, your voice just as unsteady. Your hands trail down to his face, cupping his jaw as your thumbs brush over his cheekbones. "Because l'd rather have this moment than a lifetime of silence."

His lips crash against yours again, the kiss even fiercer than before, as though he's pouring all the words he can't say into the connection. His hands linger around your thighs, gradually pushing the hem of your dress higher and higher up your leg.

“Lucius, I—” Ravi’s voice cuts through the haze, and you pull back abruptly, your chest heaving.

Lucius turns toward the door, his body instinctively shifting to shield you from Ravi’s view, though it’s already too late. Ravi stands in the doorway, his face a mixture of disbelief and exasperation.

“I left you alone for mere minutes,” Ravi mutters, crossing his arms as his eyes dart between the two of you.

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you hold your ground, refusing to shrink beneath his gaze. “I was helping,” you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you.

“And clearly you’ve been very thorough in your assistance,” Ravi replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Lucius steps forward, his voice low but firm. “Enough, Ravi. You’ve said your piece.”

Ravi exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If anyone finds out about this, it’s not just you two who’ll pay the price. Keep that in mind.” He turns on his heel, muttering something under his breath as he leaves.

The door clicks shut, and silence settles over the room once more. Lucius looks at you, his eyes clouded with both regret and longing. “I’ll deal with him,” he says softly, though his hand lingers at your side, as if reluctant to let you go.

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The door slams shut behind you as you step into the quiet of your home, the night air still clinging to your skin. Your heart is pounding in your chest, adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the events that transpired just moments ago. You barely have a chance to steady your breath before Caius appears in the hallway, his sharp gaze locking onto you as he takes in the sight of you—disheveled, hair slightly tousled, your dress still crinkled from the tension of the night.

“Where have you been?” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s an edge to it, an undeniable undertone of suspicion that you cannot ignore.

You swallow, forcing yourself to meet his eyes, a familiar lie already forming on your lips. “I was just out for a walk,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a slight quiver in your voice that betrays you.

Caius takes a slow step forward, his eyes narrowing, scanning you with unsettling precision. He glances down at your dress, and for a split second, his gaze lingers on a small stain of blood near the hem. His face hardens.

“That doesn’t look like the mark of a walk,” he says, voice tight with suspicion. “Where did you get this from?”

You freeze. The blood—it wasn’t from you, but from the hurried touch you had shared with Lucius. His words echo in your mind, Damn Caius. You can feel the weight of that kiss, the dangerous closeness, and the desperation in his touch. It lingers in your skin, like a brand that you can’t erase.

“Nothing happened,” you lie again, your heart racing in your chest. You want to scream, to tell him the truth, but fear clamps down on your throat. “I helped Ravi again, like I used to.”

Caius isn’t fooled. His eyes flicker with recognition, and before you can take another breath, he’s stepping toward you, his hand gripping your wrist tightly. “Tell me the truth,” he demands, his voice low and threatening. “You’ve been with him, haven’t you? The Eagle of Rome.”

The mention of Lucius sends a shock of panic through you, freezing you in place. No—you try to deny it, but the truth is already written across your face. “I haven’t—” you start, but the words falter. You try to pull your wrist free, but his grip tightens, pulling you closer.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growls, his voice a razor’s edge, the anger seeping through each word. His fingers are like iron, digging into your skin as he pulls you toward him. “I saw the way you looked at him in the stadium.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse quickening as the weight of his accusation hits. Lucius—the name lingers like a forbidden prayer. “I was helping all of the warriors today. I promise you, I didn’t even touch him,” you snap, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and guilt, but the words feel hollow, like a lie you want to believe but can’t.

“Stop!” Caius interrupts, his voice rising now, each word thick with rising fury. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? That I haven’t seen how you’ve been sneaking around? How you’ve been lying to me?”

His words hit you like a slap. In an instant, his frustration boils over, his anger flaring in his eyes. He moves toward you, forceful and sharp, and you stumble back into the wall, trying to escape his grasp. You gasp, your heart pounding as you try to steady yourself.

But before you can recover, Caius is right there, his face inches from yours, his breath ragged with fury. “You have no idea what kind of reproach you’re bringing against our family,” he spits, his voice dangerously quiet now. “Your actions make us a mockery. The choices you’ve made—make us look like fools.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, your heart aching in your chest. His words cut deeper than you expected, and guilt rises in your throat. He’s right—this has always been the choice, between him and Lucius. Between duty and love. But you couldn’t let go—not when Lucius needed you, not when you were the only one who could do something for him.

“Let me go, Caius,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, as if asking for the smallest mercy. “Please.”

But there’s no mercy in his eyes now. Only betrayal, and the realization that whatever it is that’s come between you, whatever feelings you’ve tried to bury, are on the cusp of release. He stares at you, and for a moment, you think you see something softer in his gaze—but it’s fleeting. He lets out a jagged breath, his grip still tight on your wrist.

“I never wanted this,” he mutters, almost to himself. “But I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

You don’t know what to say to that, because you feel the same way. Every word from his lips is a weight pressing you into the wall, and yet, you can’t escape it.

“Clean yourself up,” Caius says, stepping back. His eyes linger on you, raw and unrelenting. “And can’t stand the sight of you right now.”

Caius turns away, his shoulders tense with unresolved anger, and the silence between you stretches, thick with unspoken truths. As he walks out, leaving you standing alone in the dimly lit room, you feel the weight of the choice you’ve made—and the painful certainty that nothing will ever be the same again.

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tag list: @willowpains

[canihaveacalmtime]

"Here's your hot cocoa, have a good evening!"

You receive your drink as you bow, thanking the employee and go outside to find a seat. As you sat next to a decorated christmas tree, you look in front of you and see a giant build board printed a familiar face on it.

Should you be proud to know that your memory is very good because you could recognize your highschool bully?

Probably not, haha...

You take a sip of your cocoa, thinking about what had happened in the past between the two of you.

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

It's like any other highschool bully story that everyone always read, during your first year, you were picked on by the richest and the most handsome guy in school and he forced you to do his homework everyday for 2 years. Tormenting you in the halls, drag you out whenever his mood isn't it, making you a laughing stock for the whole school.

But why only 2 years? Because everything went upside down for him when the last year started.

His parents had enough of him and brutally cut off his bank account, told him that either he learn how to work hard or he'd never get his hands on his father company. When he thought that his long time friends would still be there to support him through this, they quickly turn their backs on him upon knowing that he has no use left to them.

During the time he was at his worst, you stepped in and offer him a helping hand, telling him that you will help him with everything for this last year and in return, he must comply with your one request and can not decline.

He was wary at first when you suddenly did that but he had no other choices as there was no one else except you that would help him anyways.

And he was not disappointed for trusting you, you supported him through every single thing, improved his grades making him in the top 50 of the school, engaged him in participating in that model contest and also fulfil the role of being a friend that he can rely on.

When the school year end came, it was also time he hear your request. You couldn't remember much about anything other than what you said, you can't remember how the scenery looked like, what the principal was saying on stage, even the look on his face because after you said it, you left immediately.

"Let's never cross paths ever again in this life, that is my request."

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

You realized that your cup is now empty just like how the streets are also beginning to be, so you throw the cup into the trash can and walk home.

You wonder back to the times when you were teaching him the subjects, you would sometime catch him staring in an obsessive way at you but you didn't really care back then because your hatred for him was too much but now that you moved on, you wonder why he was staring at you like that.

"He also said something after I left that day but I couldn't hear what it was.." You mumble as you step out of the elevator to your apartment only to be greeted with a door that is not locked at all.

Your movements were hesitant, slowly, you open the door with cautious as you also carefully step inside your home. Right after you had closed the front door, a sudden sting on your neck send you off balance, fall into someone's arms and fainted immediately.

"Come get me at the apartment now." The tall figure said through a bluetooth headphone device on his ears.

Your bully smile down at you with a creepy smile, inhaling your familiar scent as he hug you close and tightly around his arms.

"You can tell me to do anything, give you anything, to die even. Anything but letting you leave."

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

After they said those words, my world seemed like crashing down on me in seconds.

I guess I have no other choice but to fulfil a different request from them in the future then.

"I shall have you in my arms when we meet again, love."

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

(ayy pov change :D)

[yeitsre]

TW BLOOD

Nina The Killer Fanart

(+mood board and some writing)

I must say that I loved how this turned out and the vibe it gives, I decided to draw my own version and the Og design together for the sillies.

I really like the hair and the strap shirt ngl

Mood Board

(All pictures were taken off Pinterest)

I wanted the mood board to represent not only her physical appearance but also be intone with her personality in regards of my "au".

Overview + some notes

Nina Hopkins was utterly obsessed with the macabre tales she found on the internet, constantly immersing herself in stories of horror. Her fascination reached new heights when she discovered a notorious killer, whose dark deeds captivated her every thought. However, her obsession quickly turned dangerous. Meeting her idol for the first time shattered her, leading to a rapid descent into madness. Subjected to strict supervision and spontaneous therapy sessions, Nina's admiration turned into a burning desire for revenge. She vowed to make the one who shattered her sanity pay for the torment inflicted upon her.

She is in her late twenties (one of the "youngest" and last creepypastas that are registered)

I decided to fuse both versions of her story (the first one and the 2021 remake).

her obsession about Jeff shifted to loving him into hating him and she is currently hunting him down.

her makeup is important, not only does it meant to vaguely emulates a clown (a representation of her own depiction) but it's also suppose to make fun of the goth style by combining neon and overall scene makeup look, the reason why she does this is to make fun of Jane ( who in my version is gothic) because of her rivalry.

As a matter of fact, she does not know or has not met many of the "older" creepy pastas, nor is she interested in them (this actually includes Slenderman).

Omg idk where the Inspo came from but I am bored lol, anyways, I haven't uploaded anything here for a long time and it is crazy.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

If you are still taking Eddie requests- Reader is Eddies long time friend with his other DND buddies and shes helping him ask Krissy to the dance. When they are there and he thinks he should finally be happy something (someone) is missing and someone ( *aheam* dustin *aheam*) lets it slip how much Reader must be faking not feeling good to not see Eddie with another girl cuz shes in love with him

Angst with a happy ending

Request by anon ❤️

❤️

"Okay so remember what we talked about Eddie?" the two of you had been talking and practising this for a few weeks.

Prom was coming up and Eddie wanted to ask Chrissy to go with him. They had built up a friendship much to the shock of everyone at school.

Now you were Eddie's official wingwoman as he prepared to ask Chrissy to the dance.

"Yup, I'm nervous though princess. What if she turns me down? I mean this is Chrissy we are talking about" You swallow down the urge to cry and soothe him.

"You're amazing Eddie, why wouldn't she say yes?" Eddie's beaming smile melts your heart but you feel a sense of dread when Chrissy walks up to Eddie.

Eddie is sweet and charming as he asks Chrissy to go to prom. You wait with baited breath for her answer and hope that she says yes, Eddie would be crushed if she didn't.

She does say yes, of course she does and while there's a part of you that's elated for Eddie, there's a part of you that feels absolutely crushed because you were in love with your best friend and he would never feel the same way.

Maybe there was always a little part of you that held out hope that Eddie would notice you one day but that would never happen now that he was going to prom with Chrissy.

You could picture them going on dates and stuff after and you would hide how you felt about Eddie, bury down your feelings and be happy for him.

Because Eddie deserved all the happiness in the world.

❤️

Before you know it the week passes by quickly and prom is tonight. There's absolutely no way that you are subjecting yourself to the torment of watching Eddie and Chrissy all over each other, so when Eddie shows up at yours two hours before prom starts you fake being sick.

He takes one look at you cuddled up in bed and drops down on his knees beside your bed.

"Hey, aren't you getting ready for prom?" He looks so worried and you shake your head at his question.

"I'm not going to prom Eddie. I've been sick all night so I'm just going to stay in bed and watch crappy films, maybe sleep off whatever this illness is" his face falls and his big brown eyes gaze at you sorrow filled.

"It won't be the same without you sweetheart" He sounds so sad and you can't have that. There was no way he was going to spend prom upset because you weren't there.

"Don't be silly, you'll have the time of your life with Chrissy and when it's over I want to hear all about it okay?" the sadness is still in Eddie's gaze but he offers you a small smile as he gets up.

"You look really handsome Ed's" he does look gorgeous in black jeans, a black shirt and his leather jacket. He's tamed his hair and he's wearing eyeliner, the look is definitely working for him.

"Thanks, princess. I'll visit you tomorrow and tell you everything?" he promises you and as he leaves you finally let the tears that you have been holding back fall down your cheeks.

❤️

Eddie should feel ecstatic that he's at the dance with Chrissy but it feels like there's this empty space inside of his chest. You aren't at the dance, you're missing prom because you're sick and in turn Eddie is missing you.

Quite frankly prom was shit and the minute that Chrissy saw Jason the two of them had been making googly eyes at each other, Eddie could to bring himself to care.

Dustin who somehow managed to sneak into prom with Mike and Lucas frowns, Eddie doesn't know how he did it but the kid is a mini genius so he isn't surprised.

He's already had Harrington in his ear via the walkie talkie Dustin has demanding that Eddie look out for Dustin, Mike and Lucas. Yeah, like no shit. They are his sheeples and he's doing that anyway.

"Why are you so glum dude?" Mike whines as Eddie confiscates the punch mike has. Just in case some asshole has spiked it. He doesn't need three drunk 15 year olds to rein in.

"Duh it's because yn isn't here dumbass" Lucas rolls his eyes at how oblivious Mike is.

"You know she must be faking being sick because it would be hard watching you with Chrissy" Dustin pipes up. Wait what. Eddie stiffens as he wonders what Dustin means, does he mean what Eddie thinks he means?

"What are you talking about Henderson?" He demands and Dustin gapes at him like he's an idiot.

"You seriously don't know? She's in love with you dude" his face falls when Eddie's eyes widen in shock, "On shit. You really didn't know man?"

You were in love with him. You loved him and yet you had helped him ask out Chrissy, picked out his tux for him and we're supportive through all of this.

Shit shit shit.

He has to find you. Find out if Dustin is right and he has a sneaking suspicion that he is.

❤️

Eddie's standing in your room in his tuxedo and looking down at you nervously. At first, you think it's a dream because you've just woken up but when he moves closer to sit on the bed, he almost trips over your cat, Theo.

Okay, definitely not a dream then but what was he doing here? Why wasn't he having the time of his life with Chrissy?

"Uh Eds, proms still going on" Eddie smiles and settles on your bed.

"It was a dud anyway, Chrissy saw Jason and it's like there was no room for anyone else. It's fine though, turns out being with her wasn't like I thought it would be. She's just a friend, not my dream girl or whatever it is you think she is"

This surprises you because you and Eddie had practised asking Chrissy for a while and he seemed like he was crushing on her.

"I mean I did have a crush on her but going to the prom uh, that pretty much killed off any romantic feelings I have for her. I didn't have as much fun as I thought I would because my best friend wasn't there" you rub your eyes sleepily and Eddie's expression flickers with alarm.

"Have you been crying?" Shit. You should have known that Eddie would never miss the signs of you being upset.

"Just allergies" you lie and hope he buys it. He doesn't and sits beside you on the bed.

"Sweetheart don't lie to me. Look, Dustin said something tonight and I have to know if he's right or not. He said you were faking being sick because you're in love with me"

Oh no. This was not happening. This as Dustin said was a code red of epic proportions. Eddie is looking at you expectantly and your stomach churns with anxiety as you know you have to tell him the truth.

"He's right but I know that you don't feel the same and it's fine. I'll just deal with this and everything will be okay and not awkward between us" you say everything in a rush while trying hard not to give into your panic.

"You helped me with Chrissy all this time while being in love with me" his voice is full of shock and you shrug. "I'd do anything for you eds"

There's a tiny moment of silence and then he speaks again, "Dance with me princess" You're confused by his request but take his hand as he plays one of your CDs that you had been playing recently.

Madonna's Crazy for You starts and Eddie makes a face but keeps dancing. You giggle as Eddie twirls you around and holds you close to him for the slow parts.

"This feels so right you know, you being in my arms. I didn't feel like this with Chrissy. Jesus h Christ, It feels like I could be happy forever in this moment" Eddie murmurs and you peer at him, hoping he's saying what you think he's saying.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" you ask hopefully and hope that you haven't got this all wrong.

"I'm saying I want to be with you sweetheart, I'm a fool who took an insane amount of time to realise the girl of my dreams is you but I plan to make it up to you, if you give me the chance" he strokes your cheek and you place your hand over his.

"Kiss me" is your answer and Eddie enthusiastically obliges as his lips meet yours. It's an amazing kiss and you pull him closer to deepen it as the music plays in the background.

Not that the two of you noticed anything else, too wrapped up in each other to care.

❤️

[eraenaa]

The Prince and the Poet

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader Tag List

Synopsis: It is established that Prince Aemond hates poems and sonnets; it was just a pity that you adored them. 

Warnings: Mature, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Aemond Writes a Poem, Childhood Friends, Hidden Attraction, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2,900

Inspired by my Original Fic on AO3, The Den of Dragons and Lions

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eye as he watched you completely enthralled by the sonneteer who performed before you. It had been un-endless hours he had to suffer as the court was subjected to watching poets read their works for the day’s entertainment. It was all too boring, all too frivolous, it was an utter waste of time. Aemond could not understand why you would willingly subject yourself to these men's trite and untrue words— whose delusions and desires were projected in their works. Aemond strongly believed that those who write poems and epics are weaklings and cowards. They do not have the courage to go on great adventures and woo their loves, so they can only imagine and write them down on parchment. And you were the sweet, naive fool who brought into their words—declaring their works beautiful and unparalleled. Blinded by flowery verses and empty promises. 

You sigh longingly in your seat as the sonneteer before you recited your favorite sonnet of them all. Your lips silently move unconsciously as you recite your most favored work with him. Aemond, who sat by your side, sneered at the sigh that left your pillowy lips and the enchanted look in your eyes. His gaze traveled the court; every young maiden swooned by the words and looks of the sonnet who stood in the middle, reciting the work that you clung on to. When his torment finally ended, Aemond rolled his eye once more as you quickly stood and clapped your hands, an ovation for the young man who had finished his performance. Aemond did no such thing, only staring down the sonneteer who bowed and savored the praises given. 

“I hope he shall return soon— and with new material!” You exclaimed to Helaena as you two walked the halls, arms linked together, Aemond trailing behind you. It was an old scene, your actions instilled since childhood. You practically grew up in the Red Keep with the princes and princess, a lion fostered by dragons. 

You hear Aemond’s third scoff of the afternoon, making you glance behind only to see the consistent look of annoyance on his face. “I would take it you did not enjoy?” You say and face onward, feeling Aemond fasten his steps and now walking beside you and Helaena. “It is an utter waste of time; why must we spend hours on this frivolity when pressing matters could be attended to?” You roll your eyes at the Prince’s complaint. 

“Aemond, your attendance was not required. If you believe poetry is a waste of time, I do not understand why you came there.” You say simply, pausing in your tracks. Helaena, a silent audience as you and Aemond began your ceaseless squabbles once more. Aemond was silent for a moment; the truth of his actions may not be revealed. “We did not force you to sit there and listen to Sir Liam— if anything, I’d prefer if you did not come; your glares and scoffs were seen and heard, and are very much unappreciated,” Aemond clenched his jaw as he had no response that he’d like to share. His eye traveled to his sister, who had a knowing smirk on her lips whilst you waited for his response that would not come.“I’ll see you both at supper,” Aemond grumbled as his eye landed on you, who bit back her smirk, the prince stomping away as you finally let your smile slip your lips. 

“Must you really tease him? You perfectly know why he sat through the readings,” Helaena said as you and she sat in the gardens for tea. You picking at the candied lemons that you and Aemond would usually fight over. You smile as you lick your finger clean of the sugary syrup. “Yes, I know why he suffered through the readings. However, he is not aware that I am knowledgeable of his intent,” Helaena sighed, “How long will you make him suffer?” The princess asked, already impatient for the day her closest friend and brother would finally admit their attractions. 

“Suffer?” You ask in shock, “I do no such thing! He inflicts his suffering himself—“ Helaena shook her head and laughed. “You’ve known of Aemond’s attraction to you for years! Yet you still act so clueless with him!” She reasoned. “I am a lady! I am expected to act chase and reserve. I cannot just go up to Aemond and confront him with his secret attraction!” You exclaimed with a fake and exaggerated look of scandal on your face, making Helaena laugh. 

“If you are waiting for my brother to acknowledge and confess his attraction towards you, then you must wait— it might take him a lifetime.” Helaena mused, a hint of frustration and pity in her voice, for Aemond had wanted you since childhood; he was just afraid to let it be known. “Then I pity him… he could have had the golden beauty of the realm, but he chose to stay silent.” You say confidently— proud with the title bestowed upon you by lords and ladies, small and noble folk men who agreed that your beauty was as valuable and desirable as the gold your family was known for. Helaena hummed quietly and quickly prayed to the gods that her brother would soon admit his attraction, for Helaena knew that your pride would not subject you to confess your feelings first. 

“Just because you do not understand or care for poetry does not mean they are a waste!” You exclaimed as Aemond picked another fight with you. You were peacefully seated in Helaena’s chambers, stroking your cat's fur mindlessly as Aemond’s own pet lay beside you. You were in no mood to fight with him and battle his views of poetry. “They are! They’re pointless. If you must say something, then say it— why must they dance around the matter? Why must they go on and on about something that could be said in one sentence? Cowards, the likes of them are!” You let out an exasperated sigh, making Aemond smirk at your annoyance. 

He finds you quite endearing at the state, which is why he often takes time out of his day just to annoy you. Relishing at the roll of your enchanting eyes, the sighs that leave your plump, pink lips, and the furrow between your perfectly arched brows. If he were lucky and had annoyed you to quite an extent, you’d stomp your foot like a spoiled child. Or simply wave him off with your pampered hand because you no longer had a word of defense. 

“Because they are poets! They do not wish to come to the answer and their intentions all at once— they create beauty with their words. They are capable of making subjects so dire be of great interest that they, in turn, create spectacles upon it!” You defended but Aemond only rolled his eye and shook his head, the former action he had gotten from you. Ever since you two were young, you would always roll your eyes when you found something disagreeable; Aemond would mock you for it— would mimic your actions in hopes of getting more from you. However, in time, he managed to adopt the same mannerisms. 

“Archmaester Sisco believed that poetry is of great danger,” he said, taking a goblet to his lips. Your eyes followed the way the ball on his throat booed as you waited for him to continue his thought.  “He says they mislead and are obscure and false— that poets are seducers of the mind,” He finished, noting the way your eyes were on his throat. Guessing you’d want to strangle him out of annoyance, Aemond was amused with the thought of you thinking about strangling him. 

“The Archmaester’s proclamation and thinking is old— irrelevant in our times. Even his student, Archmaester Aristedes, disagrees with his views on poetry. He reasons that it is not harmful— it is a form of expression! Cathartic to those who read and write it!”Aemond let another scoff of derision slip his lips, pushing your annoyance into frustrated anger. 

“You would not understand the beauty of poetry because you keep everything you feel inside you! You do not know what great relief it is to say or even write what you desire and hope for!” You exclaimed, and Aemond tensed in his seat. Silence surrounded the room as Aemond could not work out a response. You saw him fisting the arm of his chair, the knuckles of slender fingers turning pink from his tight grip. 

You sighed heavily, “What I meant is… I understand that you do not like poetry and find it pointless and a waste— but I don’t. I am not forcing poetry onto you, nor am I trying to change your views upon it. I enjoy and adore poetry— I just wish you would stop discouraging me from enjoying it. 

“Why do you enjoy it?” Aemond asked after a short while. You try to hide your surprise at his question. “Because… I find it romantic. For someone to take time to depict you with such beautiful imagery and flattering words, to love and admire you enough to dedicate a work of literature to your name… for me, it is the best way to express to someone how much you truly love them.” You could not look at Aemond as you said the words. In truth, a part of you felt silly because your love for poetry was only solidified because you loved a boy who you knew would not subject himself to create such works. When you read your favorite epics and songs, you would humor yourself and imagine it was Aemond who wrote it for you, knowing he would never do such a thing. 

Days passed since your and Aemond’s interaction and you noticed that you had scarcely seen his presence. You would pass by him whilst in training and join him and his kin for supper— but other than that, you could not feel a trace of his presence. He would usually join you and Helaena for tea or would suddenly appear by your side as you walked along the keep. He didn’t even pick fights or tease you anymore. Him growing more silent and reserved. Now you regret speaking— wishing you had just held your tongue and let him continue to disparage the sacred thoughts of poems and songs. 

It was high night, and you sat silently in your chambers, staring at the fire, trying to find ways to approach Aemond. Already missing his teasing presence— the only presence you would muster the patience to endure. 

You furrowed your brows as you heard shuffling at your door. Your eyes catch the shadow of a figure outside. You cautiously and quietly stood, going to your door only to see a piece of parchment being slipped at the slit of the wooden door. Your confession only grew. You quickly took the parchment and opened the door, revealing its sender. Three eyes went wide as you were met with Aemond, who blended in the dark. However, his silver hair shined in the light of the moon. “What are you doing?” You ask and turn to the parchment he had slipped. 

“Nothing— I… this—“ Aemond fumbled for words; you had never seen him in such a state. He was usually composed and stoic. You thought seeing him bashful and embarrassed was a nice gift from the gods. “What is this?” You ask and unfold the parchment. “No! Don’t—“ Aemond bit his tongue as it was too late to hinder you. Your eyes already consuming what was written. 

I’ve known you for half of my life yet; you consume the whole of it I’ve had you near and close to me yet, I only gaze from afar

I do not know how to proclaim I’m not certain how to say it without blame, but you, my beauty, are the cause of my desire and, most of the time, my ire

I know I pick countless squabbles, but I do it because I love to hear you babble about things I have no care for but you just simply adore

We disagree for many reasons, but I’d rather fight you through the seasons You, my beauty, so lovely and carefree my heart could not help but love you, most ardently 

Aemond watched you bite your lip as a wide smile started to spread. Aemond felt heat all over his body— anticipation did not sit well with him. He was ready to meet your laughs at his attempt to make you a poem. Ready to face rejection, but instead of the pessimistic thoughts in his mind, he was met with your sweet, pillowy lips. You were so excited and thrilled that you could not help but kiss him. Show him how you adored him as well. 

What was supposed to be a short and chaste kiss turned deep with passion. Lips dancing and refusing to part. You and Aemond stumbled to your bed, uncaring and ignorant of the teachings of the gods, for you and him had long surpassed your desires, and they could no longer be denied. They were ready to claim without thought of consequences because both of you knew that you’d happily take all punishment that would be presented if it meant neither of you had to stop your actions. 

“Gods, I want you,” You uttered as his lips traveled to kiss your soft cheeks, then trailed downward to the side of your neck. His hands were on your waist and threading dangerously close to your bosom. “Say it again,” Aemond almost begged. Savoring your scent, delighting at the way you feel against him. “I want you, Aemond. I’ve wanted you for years— you, only you.” You sighed as he left marks on your necks, earning quiet moans from you at the new sensation.  

Aemond let a low moan rumble as his cock painfully strained against his trousers, throbbing at your admittance of want for him. It was all he wanted. He thought his deepest desire in life was to have a dragon, but that was wrong. He desired you more than claiming a dragon— his deepest desire was to claim a lioness.

Aemond tangled his hair in your hair, finally letting his other hand move from your waist and cup your breast. Your hand, in turn, went to palm him through his trousers, watching as his jaw clenched and the ball of throat bobbed once more. “We… we must not lay until we are married,” Aemond said, voice pained and filled with impatience. Yet, he still did not move atop you; he kept his hold, but you relinquished yours. “We don’t have to,” You said, trying to push away your need for him to touch you. Aemond sighed and hurried his face in your neck, his lips and breath tickling your skin. “Then how…” Aemond trailed, and a thought passed your mind. “We must not touch each other….yet. However, I do not recall teaching forbidding us to touch ourselves,” You whisper, Aemond’s lilac eye flying to you, dark and filled with lust, mirroring yours. 

Aemond moved to remove his weight from you. You keep your eyes locked as you back away to the back of your bed, resting yourself on the pillows as Aemond kneels by the edge of your feathered bed, watching each move you make with his glazed, lone eye. 

You bit your lip harshly as your hand threaded a path that it threaded plenty of times, the thought you had as you did the actions now watching you. You slipped your hands, and you resisted moaning as your fingers brushed over the pearl of your cunt. Aemond admired the way your breasts peaked and traced through your silk nightgown. The way your eyes were hooded and how your plump lips finally parted and moaned his name. 

Aemond could no longer resist. Slipping his hand into his trousers just like he did every night, the image of you no longer in his mind but now sitting before him, calling out his name.“A-Aemond,” You stuttered as you felt the familiar cold within you. How desperately you wanted it to be, him to make you feel such a way. Aemond groaned and tilted his head to the heavens as he felt his cock twitch; he was quick to reach his peak; just the way you called for his name was enough for him to spill so quickly. 

Aemond closed the space between the two of you, each of your hands still pleasuring yourselves while lips met and wanted to be together when both of you reached your peaks. “You will be mine soon, my heart… mine to pleasure and please, all mine,” Aemond swore against your lips. You nod your head as you fasten your pace. “I’ve always been yours, Aemond.” You said truthfully, the final push for Aemond to come undone; you quickly followed as his moans spurred your peak. Aemond kissed your lips once more and boldly prayed for patience, patience, and restraint to not take you that night.

It was not enough for Aemond; pleasuring himself as he watched you pleasure yourself was not enough, but it had to be for now. Because when morning comes, he’ll demand that you shall be his, just as it ought to be.

If you enjoyed the premise of this story, you might like the inspiration for it!

[sadokasochism]

I am destroyed over the whole god/worshipper dynamic and have no idea how to adequately put it into words.

I mentioned in another post that Mizi could not fathom Sua ACTUALLY dying, or comprehend what death really meant, and attributed this to her relatively comfortable and sheltered life as the pet of Shine. She was not taught to conceptualise death as a loss, and she never faced any opposition to that world view. From what we know, she might have never really known true, lasting pain or loss before the end of Round 1.

However, her reaction could also be due to her placing Sua on a pedestal as her personal god and universe. She viewed Sua as her absolute everything, and why would any faithful worshipper believe their god could be killed? Only, while Sua was everything to HER, that perception did not carry over to their captors. Mizi's love and devotion was not enough to save Sua. Forces stronger than them both took her away like she was nothing.

How must Mizi have felt, having her perception of Sua as the centre of the universe shattered that way? Coming to the violent realisation that Sua was just another human, and that humans are indeed that vulnerable and disposable? That Sua could now only exist in memories and in the visions that haunt her? That Sua is not a god, but a ghost?

Now we look at Till's perception of Mizi. Again, in an earlier post I mentioned the tragedy of Till falling for someone who did not have a reason to leave. He had a lot of blind faith in Mizi, and it could be said that he idealised her as a paragon.

It's not hard to see how he reached this point. The poor kid had not been shown a lot of kindness in his life, and so meeting someone who was genuinely good and so full of joy must have had a huge impact on him.

However, his faith is still a blind one, but in a different way to Mizi's blind faith in Sua. He is happy to endure any amount of horrible treatment and does not expect anyone to help him. He doesn't resent Mizi for being so close to their captors, for her dreams stopping at Alien Stage. He doesn't resent her after he gives up on his chance at freedom and is subjected to who knows how many more years of pain and torment at the hands of their captors (Not that Mizi is at fault, Till made his own decision that Mizi likely never even knew about).

He sees Mizi's innocence and ignorance to the cruelty of their reality as something wonderful instead of a character flaw that prevents her from saving herself or her loved ones.

Sua has the same issue, seeking comfort and bliss within Mizi's brightness instead of acknowledging the cruel reality of their world. Maybe she felt sharing her perspective with Mizi would dim Mizi's bright spirit, and so she was more than content to wait out the clock with her god.

Maybe Sua felt that meeting Mizi, loving her and being loved by her in return, was nothing short of a miracle after the life she had lived before Anakt Garden. Maybe she felt in light of that, aspiring for something like freedom or a long, long life of happiness with the person she loved the most was asking far too much. The time she got with Mizi was already a miracle, why expect or demand anything more?

If Sua was afraid of Mizi losing her brightness, no wonder she was so affected by Ivan's lecture about becoming a source of trauma for Mizi after her death.

Ivan's view of Till as his god is a bit different. He is similar in that he doesnt seem to demand his devotion be reciprocated, he just wants his god to acknowledge him as a person, as someone that is at least PART of Till's universe, if he can't be all of it.

He is also very willing to become a martyr for his god while expecting nothing in return but Till continuing to live. He acknowledges Till as vulnerable and falable in a way that Till doesn't with Mizi, and Mizi didn't with Sua. He knows damn well that while Till is the centre of HIS universe, their captors certainly do not hold Till in that same regard. He knows that love and devotion in a vacuum does not save anyone.

Which is why he was always the one to free Till, to try and escape with him, and why he pulled the stunt he did in Round 6. Ivan knew that actually making an impact in this world required personal risk and sacrifice, because their captors don't give a fuck if you're in love or if that other pet-human they're about to kill means everything to you.

Till knew this too, but his idealised version of Mizi is too perfect to be broken and beaten down by this world the same way the rest of them have been. So he's still shattered by Round 5, seeing how far Mizi has fallen and then not knowing if she's alive or dead, but knowing for sure she is far out of reach. I wonder, did he regret not running away with Ivan at that point? Did he wonder what all those years of suffering were for, if he was just going to end up losing Mizi anyway? If this world was able to break her too, no matter what he did?

Mizi is gone and changed forever, and nothing he did could stop it. His love and devotion and sacrifice wasn't enough. He failed his god.

In Round 6, Ivan is faced with the same thing. His god has lost his fighting spirit, is changed forever, and Ivan's love and devotion wasn't enough to save him. The last thing he can give is his life, and hope that will be enough. Just like Sua. But he was never Till's god, was never even part of his universe, he probably won't even leave a ghost behind. So, the choice is obvious, really.

They're all so desperate for hope and connection in this lonely, painful existence that they make a person their entire universe, and then are repeatedly crushed when they are shown again and again that their soul-consuming love for one another is seemingly meaningless in a world that views them as infinitely disposable.

[acapelladitty]

Waylon Jones/Reader: Concern

Summary: Even in the midst of passion, Waylon remains as careful as ever.

Despite all the preparation, his tongue having long since licked every possible inch of your cunt with its animalistic texture - a little physical boon which still had your legs twitching minutes after he had finished eating you out like the finest meal - it was still a difficult fit.

"M'not hurting you?" Waylon asked, his question so low and growled that it was almost easy to mistake it as little more than a noise as it rolled free of his lips.

Wrapping your hands around the back of his head as you lowered yourself another half-inch down onto the cock that felt like it was threatening to rip you apart, you gave him a strained smile as you masaaged your fingers across the hardened skin of his neck.

"It's so thick," you purred, "that I think I'll be ruined for anyone else. Forever."

"Didn't answer me." Not missing a beat, Waylon paused his hips as they circled beneath your cunt, his natural instinct to stretch you out making his movements stuttered, and the concern etched on his face forced you to relent your teasing.

"I've never felt pressure like it." You confessed with a breathy moan. "I can feel the muscles burning as they stretch and the heat of your cock against them. I can feel every one of those lovely little ridges which decorate the shaft. It's," you pause to search for the right words, "quite a lot. But it's so good."

A rumble in his chest is his answer and he continues his slow ascent, raising his hips enough to push his cock another inch and the scorching stretch claws your fingers into his neck even deeper. What must be a slight pinch against the leathery skin draws a smile from his lips, exposing razor sharp, stained teeth that you can easily imagine puncturing through your vulnerable skin - the thought enough to draw a fresh moan and shudder down your spine.

He pulls himself almost free, the drag of each ridge of his cock making your walls feel like they're being dragged along with him as every millimetre was subjected to wicked torment. Holding it for a moment before pushing back in, you both found that the movement was a little easier due to the forced give of the muscles.

A calloused thumb dropped into the space between you, his other clawed hand remaining tight against your hips, and a keen of pure pleasure escaped you as his thumb spreads your slit to rub gently along your clit.

"Waylon-" His name is hard on your lips, at once a prayer and a curse as the extra stimulation makes your body stiffen in place - cunt, if possible, growing tighter around his cock as you pushed yourself into his curious thumb.

"Nice and slow." Waylon grumbled, clearly enjoying himself even as you see the slight twitch of strain in his eye as he held himself back from devouring you in the ways that his beastial urges demanded. "And all mine."

"Yes." You confirm with a pleasurable sigh, willing to wait until it was safe for him to indulge himself even as the thought of it made your limbs shudder in anticipation. "All yours."

[yanderes-galore]

could I please request yandere prompt 3, from the G section of writeformesinpie's prompts for otis driftwood? Just recently watched house of 1000 corpses, pretty fun horror movie ^^

I feel like I can't write him without making him horrendous... so prepare for that.... Y'know, it must be good if writing it made me uncomfortable.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Otis Driftwood Prompt G-3

“One, two, Daddy is coming for you. Three, four, knocking down your door.”

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Manipulation, SFW Daddy kink, Possessive behavior, Biting, Blood, Disturbing/Dark themes, Kissing, Isolation, Post-Kidnapping, Dehumanizing behavior, Mature themes/Themes of intimacy, Blood drinking, Forced "relationship".

You're the best toy he's had in a long time.

Otis has had many victims, many toys. Many cute rabbits to chase and hunt until their time was up. However, none were quite as entertaining as you.

That's why you've lasted so long with him...

He's let you.

He lets you because you're his favorite rabbit. The family lets him keep you because he adores you so much. No one else is allowed to touch you... for better or for worse....

There's many games he likes to play with his rabbit. He likes to bite pretty marks into their skin. He likes to hold them close and explore his little pet. But his favorite game?

He loves to chase.

He loves it when he sets you loose, watching you run off to hide from him like the scared rabbit you are. Otis loves to play hunter to his sweet rabbit. He finds it so cute that you think you can hide.

It's adorable how you think anything will stop him from keeping his rabbit.

"Oh come on, baby... you can only run and hide for so long...!" Otis coos, stalking you through the home. The family had assumed he was playing his games again... allowing him to be with his rabbit.

You don't answer, staying in a locked room with your legs to your chest. You're shaking like cornered prey, hearing Otis call your name and several other sickening nicknames as he hunts you in the hallway. You don't know why you bother anymore.

He was going to find you eventually... and subject you to whatever fresh torment his twisted mind thought of.

"Sweetheart... my little rabbit..." Otis calls, stopping beside the door you locked yourself in. By this point you were used to the smell of blood and rot. No doubt all due to Otis' little art projects.

"You in there? Are you waiting for me to come get you? Aren't you having fun?" Otis taunts, knocking on the door playfully with a chuckle. "You want daddy to come and find you?"

You cringe at the nickname he used. You hated when he said that. He uses it like he's supposed to be some sort of guardian to you... He's far from it. You swear he does it because you hate it.

"I know you're in there..." Otis hums, knocking on the door harshly as you hide beside the stained furniture in the room. "Don't you want to come out and reward me for finding you? Doesn't daddy get a kiss?"

You feel nauseated when he taunts you. Your heart won't stop thumping in your chest as he knocks on the door. Each knock becomes more and more insistent....

"Come one, baby... Open the door for daddy...." Otis hums, trying the doorknob. "You're going to make me wait for it, huh?"

You hear him push on the door, ramming his side into the wood. You freeze, cowering as you watch the door give slightly. Another ram, another jump of your heart.

"Daddy doesn't like waiting, baby...." Otis sighs, the door rumbling as he hits it. "Don't make me upset, baby...!"

You squeak when the door moves again. The lock creaks, threatening to give way due to his strength. It almost hurts to breathe with how nervous you are.

“One, two, Daddy's coming for you..." Otis sings, the door creaking more as he rams into it. "Three, four, knocking down your door.”

You scream when the door flies open. It's so fast the door slams into the wall. You swore if you looked there would be a dent.

However, you were too busy staring at Otis to care.

"There's my bunny!" Otis purrs, stepping closer to you with a chuckle. You panic, stepping back as you look for a way to defend yourself. Unfortunately, like a wolf to a rabbit, Otis lunged at you.

You slam onto the floor, stunned as you feel Otis laughing. You try to push him off, only to feel him bite into your flesh. He meant it to be playful or teasing... yet it just hurt.

You sob when he laps at your blood, pinning you to the floor with a bloody grin. Once again, he has won his game. He has won his rabbit.

"Aw, honey, you kept me waiting for so long...!" Otis pouts before howling in laughter. "Don't you know I've won? I always win, baby...."

You try to sputter out some sort of plea, but Otis just leans forward, breath ghosting over your lips.

"Now where's daddy's kiss, little bunny?"

[dyns33]

A story of witch

Happy Valentine day !

As a gift, here a looooooooong Morpheus x female reader.

Careful, some spoilers here, from the comics and so maybe from season 2.

Time had a different hold on witches.

A certain influence, because contrary to common beliefs, nothing escaped time and nothing was perfectly eternal, but it slipped over them as long as they decided, and had enough magic to repel its effects.

Y/N had already been walking on Earth for several centuries when she met Morpheus.

She had heard many legends about the Endless. Rumors. Lots of warnings, especially regarding Dream, who was described as a changeable, dangerous, angry and resentful being.

Her many sisters whispered to each other that becoming his lover was as much a gift as a curse. He would offer you the whole world on a platter, he would do everything to please you, and then one day, without warning, you would no longer suit him, you would do something wrong according to him, the feelings would no longer be as strong, and then misfortune would strike you.

The king would always find a way to blame you for this new emotional failure. Then you risked Hell, endless nightmares, eternal sleep.

Too much hassle for little benefit.

Y/N didn’t think about any of that when she met Morpheus. Neither to the wonders he could offer her, nor to the torments he risked inflicting on her.

For a witch, some might have thought that she was young, still naive, far too in love with her books and grimoires, fascinated by stories, and therefore vulnerable to the charms of the dreams master.

She didn't think she would fall in love. Neither did he. The mourning of his marriage and his child were still recent, for a being such as him. Y/N had barely been born when this tragedy had happened.

The subject was not brought up, like none of his former lovers. Morpheus did not forget, he never forgot, but when a new relationship began, he did not look back to compare with the previous ones.

No doubt it was a mistake on his part, who then never learned from his mistakes.

Y/N hadn’t had as many relationships as him. Witches have the luxury of immortality, and they knew the consequences of it. Bonding with mortals wasn't a good idea, even less so with their peers. Too risky. Too dangerous.

Attempting to see the future in dreams could have been described with the same words. Y/N was taking the risk of being punished by two Endless, Destiny and Dream.

But Destiny never interfered in anything, and Dream was intrigued by the little witch, asking her not to repeat her experiments, but welcoming her into his domain.

As they walked in his garden, the inhabitants of the Dreaming knew before them what was going to happen.

"Your flowers are beautiful. Everything is beautiful here."

“Would you like to see my library ?”

"Oh, I'd love to ! But you must have a lot to do, I don't want to bother you more than necessary."

"You don't bother me, mikri magissa. You are welcome here."

It took a while for Y/N to realize that they were getting closer. The courting of the king of stories was subtle, ethereal like him, full of poems and tenderness while doing without many words far too heavy with meaning, and at the same time far too limited to convey all the ardor of their love.

Because they loved each other, there was no doubt about it. The end of their story came quickly, although to a mortal three centuries seemed like a lot. At the same time, those who knew Morpheus well could testify that this was quite a long time for a relationship with him. But as always with his relationships, there had to be an end.

“I’m just saying he’s not wrong.”

"You don't know what you're talking about, o mágos mou. This man is insane and I'm not lonely."

“However, I have felt you far from me for some time now. Perhaps forever.”

"Don't I love you more than anything ? Haven't I shown you my love on many occasions ?"

"I don't know. It's difficult for me to know with you, immutable and yet so variable. Sometimes you give so much, too much, and sometimes not enough, if it's not nothing. There is no middle ground with you. Probably not with me either. It's possible that I'll ask you impossible things."

“Nothing is impossible for me.”

“Yet you refuse to speak, to really speak. You flee this kind of discussion, as you fled the friendship of this man.”

“Don’t push me, Agápe μου.”

Y/N left the Dreaming that night knowing she wasn’t coming back. Morpheus' indifference to her departure could have been seen as fortunate, but it hurt her deeply. He didn't try to catch her, he didn't try to punish her either.

Even though it seemed obvious after several weeks that he would not pursue her, neither in her dreams nor in the Waking, Y/N took precautions to prevent their paths from crossing again. Using several spells, rituals, amulets and ancient seals, she ensured that her mind was cut off from the realm of her former lover.

This protection proved very useful when the sleeping sickness arrived.

Like the rest of the world, Y/N didn't immediately understand what was happening. She knew Dream enough to know that he would never neglect his work like that, that he would not abandon his position unless forced to do so, and that despite all the cruelty and resentment he was capable of, he would never do such a thing to the dreamers.

Something had happened, but she didn't know what.

Too afraid of what he could do to her if she went into the Dreaming, or what could happen to her sleep without the protections, Y/N didn't try to find out. It wasn't her business anyway, since they were no longer together and the fate of humanity wasn't part of her responsibilities.

Time continued to pass, and she still tried to help mortals when she could, with potions and incantations to help them sleep, or on the contrary wake up, ensuring that their nights were not entirely nightmares.

But this was difficult, because she was not the master of dreams. Without knowing it, she came very close to Morpheus the day her steps led her near a mansion with dark, gloomy energies, which she did not wish to approach too closely. However, there was something, abandoned under a tree near the property, which attracted her with strong force.

The body of a raven. A raven different from the others, a dream. Jessamy. Someone had shot her and she lay there, lifeless, far from her creator, far from her home.

Y/N took the poor thing with her. Necromancy being prohibited, it was not good to anger Death, and the existence of dreams being a complex thing, she did the only thing in her power, to offer a decent burial to the little emissary whom she had loved very much and who had often helped her control Morpheus' moods.

When collective sleep returned to normal, there were no signs. Nothing that made it possible to understand what had happened. Curious by nature, the witch repeated to herself that she should not try to understand. The rumors would spread quickly.

She heard about Burgess. Whispers recounted the long confinement of the maker of nightmares, who had taken revenge before setting off in search of his stolen instruments in order to rebuild his kingdom. Twice he went to the Underworld, he faced a Vortex, he fell in love. Nothing really new, just the same story over and over again.

Y/N didn’t want to know any of this, but the choice wasn’t hers. One of her sisters came to visit without being invited, and to ask her advice.

“I don’t see how I can help you, big sister.”

"You have experienced what I am experiencing. Tell me how to escape from Oneiros, because I no longer wish to see him and he does not seem ready to accept it."

The rumors had not mentioned the fact that Morpheus had fallen in love with a witch again. Older than Y/N, more powerful, crueler too, because Thessaly had little interest in things of the heart.

" … I repeat, I'm not sure I can help you. Make sure you don't inspire him with any more feelings and you'll be free."

"Sweet little sister, he still loves you and yet he left you alone. I'm asking for this."

"He doesn't love me. He didn't love me for a long time when I left."

"We argued often and each time my wing of the castle was razed and then rebuilt under his orders. There is no trace of his former companions left in all of the Dreaming. None, except you. He did not touch your room. He denied me access to it. He recreated it with everything else after his return. Can you tell me that doesn't mean anything ?"

Y/N didn’t respond. She didn't know what to answer, she didn't know about all this. Her eldest whispered that she was almost jealous. Many times she had wondered if she had gotten his attention because of their similarities, because she reminded him of his lost love.

It might be a good idea for her younger sister to discuss it with the Lord of Dreams.

"Or not. That would allow me to slip away without him probably noticing, but I can't wish harm on one of ours. I'll find a way."

This time, Y/N closed herself off to the whispers, not wanting to know if Thessaly had found this way.

Part of her wished the best for the lord of stories, who had suffered far too much in the last century despite all his wrongs, and who did not deserve to receive another injury. Another part didn't like knowing the older witch was with Dream.

She was afraid for her sister, and she was afraid for Morpheus, whose fickle heart was more fragile than he wanted to admit. The consequences were likely to be terrible for everyone.

Filled with memories, Y/N wanted to visit Jessamy’s grave. A powerful spell had hidden it from the eyes of the world, to prevent it from being desecrated, and she wondered if she had not made a mistake in doing so, for it was possible that Morpheus had never known where his faithful emissary rested.

But the magic of ravens was special, these beings knew things, and she shouldn't have been surprised to find one of them on the tree that protected the location.

"Good morning." she said politely, making new flowers appear near the grave.

"Hi. Do we know each other ? I feel like I know you."

"I don't think we've ever met. You're Dream's new raven."

"Yeah, Matthew. I don't know why I'm here. I'm sort of drawn to it, and Lucienne told me to follow my instincts for this sort of thing, but I don't understand. Are you the one calling me ?"

“I think it’s more your predecessor that you are feeling.”

"Jessamy ? Oh… The boss thought her body was destroyed or something. Were you the one who buried her ? That's nice of you. You don't look really surprised to see a talking raven. I feel like I'm supposed to know you. You seem important."

"Not really, no."

"The boss could tell me but he's busy at the moment. He's accompanying his sister on a quest. Good, it's keeping him busy. It's been raining too much since his break up, it's been days. Merv told me that it was almost always like that, frankly it's painful to watch. The time with this Nada, the time with his ex-wife, the time with another witch… I don't know what he has with witches. I didn't like her at all, she was mean."

“It rained in the Dreaming when I left ?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask, surprised by the news.

Before that day, she had always believed that her departure had had no impact. A total, cold indifference, showing that she no longer mattered. But Thessaly had talked about her room, and Matthew had talked about the rain, and Y/N didn't know what to think at all now.

She had left Morpheus because of his inability to communicate, the distance he put between himself and the whole world. His grand declarations of love always seemed hollow, lacking something.

Maybe he had changed. He would never have allowed his emissary to speak as Matthew did, who was moving around on his tree asking a thousand questions about the relationship between his boss and Y/N. He even allowed himself to order her to leave, because he really didn't need Dream falling into depression again by seeing her through his eyes.

"He's got enough problems, he… Oh. Oh, no. I feel it, he's there. Shit, shit, shit. I have to go !"

Years without any news and within moments Y/N hearing about her former lover almost every day. Until someone came to her door and she found herself face to face with Morpheus.

He seemed embarrassed. He had always been awkward in the waking world, out of place, because dreams hardly survived in reality. But there was something else. He would never have bothered to knock before. He would have come into her house to say what he had to say, demanding that she listen to him, and agree with him at the end.

Without saying anything, he observed her as if he were seeing her for the first time, turning his gaze towards her bedroom, the door of which was surrounded by several symbols used to repel dreams and nightmares. Y/N expected this to make him angry. He had already not liked her touching his domain when they first met.

"I thought you followed my sister into the sunless lands…" he whispered, looking down. "I no longer felt your presence in the Dreaming. I didn't think you were running away from me. It didn't seem to me that I gave you reasons to run away."

“I wasn’t sure you’d be happy to see me again.”

"I have waited a long time for the day when I would have the joy of seeing your sweet face again. It never came, but I am the one responsible for it. You were right about Hob Gadling, You were right about many things but I didn't listen, and I lost you. It was one of my greatest regrets."

“Why are you talking like that ?” Y/N asked as she approached, their hands almost touching.

"Mikri magissa, so much has happened. I am at a crossroads, with a big decision to make. I admit to being afraid, and you give me courage."

“Maybe I can help you ?”

"Even if you could, I wouldn't ask you. The search for my little sister is dangerous, a lot of blood has been shed since we left in search of our brother and I couldn't bear to see it happen to you. I had agreed to help her to see someone again, without understanding that it was you I secretly wanted to see, and now I must find a way to console my sister, disappointed by my lack of investment. But the only way we have left is one that I dare not name."

Y/N had briefly met Morpheus' family, including Destruction and Delirium.

The prodigal had spoken to her little before his retirement, but he had seemed tired, reaching the limits of his functions and no longer seeing the point of remaining with all the inventions of mortals and immortals which fulfilled his role perfectly without he needs to intervene. His siblings did not understand his decision.

One of the most affected by his departure had been Delirum, very close to his brother, who would have given anything for a family reunion.

"If this means your downfall, I can't believe Delirium would ask such a thing of you." Y/N said indignantly, not daring to come any closer. “There must be something else.”

"I don't think my younger sister is aware of what she's asking of me, nor do I think it's possible for me to go any other way without putting someone else in danger. I just came to see you, and thank you for what you did for Jessamy, and for the dreamers during my absence. I hadn't seen all these acts of kindness. But maybe it's you who didn't want to see me again. Not with my behavior. Oh, mágos mou… I so wanted to be better for you, but I could only change by going through all these trials, and for that I had to lose you."

It felt like goodbye, and Y/N didn’t like it. By definition, the Endless had no end, at least not while there was life in the universe. Without thinking, she placed her hand on Dream's cheek. He usually hated it, being touched, especially without permission, but he closed his eyes with a happy sigh, pressing his skin against hers.

Asking him if he was okay seemed stupid, but the question left her lips, and when his eyes opened again, they had a strange glow. He muttered that no one had asked him that question since his release. It was almost years ago. In truth, no one had asked him that question, even before he was captured.

Like he said, it could be because he had changed, and he didn't really deserve to be asked if he was okay before. And now that he was making an effort, that he was understanding, that he was improving, it was too late.

"I'll find a way. I'll talk to your sister."

“Delirium has always loved you.” he sighed. "My whole family, I think. I never noticed that our relationship is the only one that Desire hasn't tried to sabotage. But maybe they knew that I would sabotage it on my own."

“Let me talk to her.”

Much to Morpheus' surprise, his younger sister listened to Y/N. She even seemed to become Delight again for a moment, as the witch promised to find Destruction, even if it would take time. She just had to be patient, but also accept that it was possible that their brother didn't want to be found.

It was his decision to leave, as it was her decision to change, and Dream's decision to stay the same. But if she asked him to continue their quest, horrible things could happen, and she might lose another member of her family.

"… Okay. But you promise to look ?"

“I swear on our mother’s first ledger.”

"Several people have died trying to help us, Delirium… It's not safe to…"

"Oh, shut up. You'll be with her to protect her, you didn't care about the others. You're probably happy that Y/N came back. I'm happy too, she's nice, you two were good together. If you find our brother, then everything will be perfect."

Several spells, formulas and sacrifices were necessary to find the trail of the Prodigal, or Destruction took pity on them by inviting them to join him, but they talked, and as Y/N had predicted, he did not wish to return, but he entrusted them with a dog to give to his little sister.

Before disappearing between the stars, he took his big brother by the hand, walking together near the cliff, and whispering something to him.

"What did he say ?" Y/N couldn’t help but ask.

"He told me not to make the same mistakes and to think about myself for once. Not about my position, not about my kingdom, about nothing but me, and about you. O mágos mou, it's been a long time, but if you…"

The kiss cut him off in the middle of his question, time seemed to stop, and it was as if they had never left each other.

[codenamesazanka]

Does Spinner think of what his family might be going through? I wish we saw more of his thoughts on them.

Ohhhh this is a really fun question that I think of a lot, and I think it exposes quite a dark side of Spinner.

The facts/speculations from facts:

Spinner's family all have reptilian quirks - so it's likely that they are heteromorphs too.

Spinner lived in the countryside and got discriminated against for being a heteromorph; his family must have been mistreated by the villagers as well.

Spinner was a hikikomori NEET - shut in his room, no job - so he must have been supported by his parents, who 'allowed' him to be a hikikomori NEET (instead of kicking him out and leaving him to fend for himself), but apparently wasn't able to encourage him to at least stop his heart from feeling so empty.

Villains' families get subjected to harsh public reaction - see the vandalism on Gentle and Toga's parents' houses.

Put all that together, and you have the horrifying possibility that after Spinner's name and identity was revealed by Heroes to the public, his family - likely already harassed and ostracized by their village - will face even worse treatment. And I think Spinner must have known this would happen, when he left home to go cosplay a serial killer and join a Villain terrorist group. He had to have guessed that he'll be abandoning his family to angry, vicious wolves; not just to heavy national scrutiny because the League is huge news, not just to the stigma of criminal's association for the rest of their lives, but also very likely to the villagers' bigoted justification to abuse them even more.

And yet he still did so. Does Spinner feel any guilt? Does he care what he's put them through? Did he spare a thought for them when he first stepped into Kurogiri's bar, and then every action he's taken then that makes him more and more of an 'unforgivable' Villain? Spinner is not a cruel person - he's shown he's kind and caring for all of the League, for the people he cares about. So... what does this mean about his bonds with his family? What does it imply?

It could be that his family was dysfunctional in some way. They weren't at the levels of some of the families of his teammates, but still fractured. His parent didn't kick him out for being a jobless loser, but they didn't support him much either. They were emotionally unsupportive, they were distant, they gave up on him over the years. And so he gave up on them too, and he doesn't think about them much when he joined the League. Their family ties frayed a long time ago, and it's fine if they break. He doesn't think of them much.

But I personally would like to imagine that Spinner's family loved him, and they tried their best. Made him meals to put outside his door so he won't starve. Tried to make him happy - gave him money to buy those games he loves! - yet that inadvertently enabled his hikikomori depression. The reality is, sometimes love simply does not win out against systemic discrimination and marginalization, no matter your best efforts. Your kid's getting sprayed by pesticides by your neighbors just for going outside, but you can't afford to move. Your kid's quirk is weak he's getting doubly bullied and you can't tell him 'Hey! Show them how cool you are, go become a cool Hero with that quirk!'. Your kid's refusing to go to school, and maybe it's mentally better for him not to because every day there is just torment, but then he's missed too much days and he's failing out and it's too late to fix it. And so Spinner's heart was emptied out anyway and he loses sight of the family; or they fell to his periphery when Stain stirred up passion in his heart. There's still a bond between him and his family - but Spinner tries not to think about them.

It'd be selfish of Spinner, but Spinner is selfish in this aspect, much like the rest of the League. They refuse to suffer in silence, they make trouble. That is how they try to keep sane in this broken world. Still, making his family go through all this - something Spinner did knowingly, and he'd have to take responsibility for. I wished we had seen any of this thoughts on this, too, anon.

This is 90% speculation bordering on fanfic territory, so sorry about that! But we simply have no canon information, so we must imagine wildly. Thanks for the ask!

[ddarker-dreams]

What about yan Scaramouche saying I love you to his darling?👀

WHEW............ Many thoughts about this....................

for any connection to be genuine, there must be a degree of vulnerability between those involved. this revelation would torment scaramouche endlessly. to be vulnerable is to put oneself at risk of rejection. the power he holds over you wouldn't just equalize, no, it'd lean in your favor. ideally, this would serve as a rope that'd bind you together, but he likens it to willingly walking up the scaffold and placing his neck into a noose. you could choose to execute him at any time.

this internal conflict of interests bewilders the achingly lonely puppet. scaramouche wants so desperately to be close to you while also finding the concept terrifying. those initial relationships he formed in his erstwhile days... while he'd never admit it now, he did cherish them. losing those budding friendships hurt more than any otherworldly torment the abyss might subject him to. he considers this, then he considers you. could he even begin to quantify the pain he'd experience if you rejected him? his first love, who he secretly exalts above the divine? he might be able to delude himself at times, but not when it comes to this, he knows for a fact it'd splinter him, possibly beyond repair.

annihilation wrought from your hands would be more welcome than if it came from anyone else, he'd muse at his lowest moments. you can't forget what you've destroyed. it'd lodge him in your psyche too deep to ever pull out.

scaramouche honestly isn't sure what love is. an all-consuming obsession is the closest answer he's arrived at. it's a definition unique to him and he takes pride in the fact. he has to twist it, contort it into an unsightly form before he's willing to acknowledge its existence. only then would he even entertain the idea of saying he loves you.

when he does say those three words, fate itself weeps for you, knowing what future awaits. freedom is not guaranteed when his pulse ceases, for he doesn't have one. paradoxically, you'll find more freedom by sinking further into him than trying to run away. choose wisely.

[thatboreddrake]

Ruthlessness is Mercy

Alright, so now that I've got my incoherent ravings and memes about Epic: the Musical, the Vengeance Saga out of the way, I have some THOUGHTS about the musical symbolism in this new album! Speaking specifically about Get in the Water.

Because really, this song is a reflection of Ruthlessness, the song in the Ocean Saga where Odysseus faces off against Poseidon for the first time.

These parallels can be seen even from the opening lines of each song. Think about Poseidon's opening in Ruthlessness:

"Odysseus of Ithaca Do you know who I am?"

(Okay, so this is technically the end of Keep Your Friends Closer, but still, it's Poseidon's introduction). But recall Poseidon's behavior and attitude here: he's loud, he's proud, he's bombastic, he's in-your-face. He addresses Odysseus by his name as an intentional callback to when he taunted Polyphemus. Contrast this against the opening line of Get in the Water:

"There you are, coward."

There's a familiarity here that isn't present in Ruthlessness. Of course there is, Odysseus has narrowly evaded Poseidon's wrath once before (twice if you count Storm), and he's had 10 years to stew on that failure. Both of them know what this is about, it's just about putting an end to unfinished business. Poseidon is not proud, he is not overly aggressive. He's much calmer here than he was in Ruthlessness.

This is even reflected in the music. Ruthlessness features a piano playing in triplet and trumpets to accompany Poseidon. The god of waves has come to bring retribution on the one who dared to harm his son. On the other hand, Get in the Water, features a much more synthetic sound, oscillating back and forth. This motif is used a lot in Epic to denote the presence or usage of godly powers (think Calypso's reveal of her nature in Love in Paradise). Furthermore, the piano is much slower, more menacing, more methodical. Poseidon is not acting in a heat of rage. As I said before, he's had a long time to think about this.

Poseidon's choice of words punctuates this point as well. He has a point to make in Ruthlessness. He's not just here to kill Ody and his crew, he's here to explain exactly what it is that they've done and why they deserve to die for it.

"I've gotta make you bleed, I need to see you drown But before you go, I need to make you learn how Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves"

It's not just about the fact that Odysseus got into a fight with Polyphemus. It almost seems that Poseidon couldn't care less about that. After all:

"I mean, you totally could have avoided all this had you just killed my son"

Poseidon's problem is not that Ody hurt his son, those things happen in the world of mythology. No, his issue is that Ody refused to finish the job. Instead of granting Polyphemus a quick death, he instead elects to "spare" him, leaving him to suffer a lifetime of agony to live with his blindness. Poseidon goes on and on about this (it is the main theme of the song after all).

But in Get in the Water? It's all about salvaging Poseidon's reputation and finishing what he started.

"I've got a reputation I've got a name to uphold So I can't go letting you walk or else the world forgets I'm cold"

By this point, Poseidon has killed hundreds of Odysseus's men and subjected him to horrible torment. By any normal metric, the debt has been repaid. Ody didn't kill Polyphemus, so strictly speaking there's no need to kill him necessarily. The lines listed above almost seem to be a callback to this line from Monster:

"Or does he keep us in check So we must respect him And now no one dares to piss him off?"

Anyway, by the time of Get in the Water it's no longer about avenging his son for Poseidon. In fact, Poseidon makes no mention of his son throughout the entire song! Granted, Poseidon threatens Telemachus with the same fate that Odysseus gave to Polyphemus, but this strikes me more as incentive for Odysseus than anything else. This is all about finishing his business with Odysseus, and Poseidon's command to Odysseus reflects this:

"Now get in the water"

Poseidon says this so nonchalantly. He almost sounds as tired of this feud as Odysseus is. In fact, it's not until the second half of the song that Poseidon regains a portion of the fury that he exudes throughout the entirety of Ruthlessness. And this culminates in the same command in both songs:

"Die"

And here's where the parallels get particularly interesting to me. Because both outbursts follow an attempt by Odysseus to assuage Poseidon's wrath. In Ruthlessness, he appeals to his men's relative innocence in the matter:

"Poseidon, we meant no harm We only hurt him to disarm him We took no pleasure in his pain We only wanted to escape"

Here, Poseidon's reaction is a realization that Odysseus has completely misunderstood the very nature of the interaction. He realizes that Odysseus is arguing out of ignorance, and so the reply does nothing to enrage him. He's not having fun with it like he was before, this is just something he has to do. And so:

"Ruthlessness is mercy Die"

Compare this with the same interaction in Get in the Water. Odysseus once again tries to encourage Poseidon to put the past behind them and move on. To forgive and forget.

"We're both hurting from losses So why not leave this here and just go home?"

Here again, Poseidon does not get angry from Odysseus's suggestion. He merely offers a defeated:

"I can't"

Misunderstanding Poseidon's quietude for passivity, Odysseus attempts to press his advantage, insinuating that, even if it seems impossible to Poseidon, it is still possible for him to learn how to forgive Odysseus.

"Maybe you could learn to forgive?"

And here's where Poseidon really snaps. Because for ten years, he's been waiting to kill the man who blinded his son and had the audacity to escape his retribution. Odysseus broke into his son's home, killed his sheep, and stabbed him in the eye. And now he thinks he can get away without getting his due consequences?

"No Ruthlessness is... Mercy upon... Ourselves Die"

In Ruthlessness, "Die" is a statement of fact. It's a sure thing that Odysseus will die, so Poseidon puts very little emotion behind it. It's a command, surely to be obeyed. In Get in the Water, however, "Die" is an exclamation of fury. Poseidon screams it out because, in that moment, he wants nothing more to kill Odysseus.

In Ruthlessness, Poseidon begins in a state of almost glee but ends in a state of resignation. He isn't enjoying it, but still it has to be done. In Get in the Water, however, Poseidon begins with a sense of quiet fury. There's no rage, no wild temper, he's just finally getting to do what he's waited to do for ten years. And yet, he ends with a greater feeling of anger and hatred towards Odysseus than is shown even in Ruthlessness. Because Ody was supposed to have learned his lesson. He was supposed to know better now. And yet he still wants to offer mercy, and expects his foe to do the same.

So yeah.

[whispersfromtheshadowsoffical]

Hello, twins asking! ( •ᴗ•)⸝🍵 ☕️⸜(•ᴗ• )

I L-O-V-E-D this the moment I saw it, everything looks really cool!!!! So I showed it to my brother and we both started gushing about it.

Since you don't mind answering questions, I would love to know if the game will have the option to indulge their yandere tendencies? I love Xenos, he would just need to bat his eyelashes for me to smooch him, even if he just admitted to killing a whole group of people (ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³ ~ Coffee

Following what Coffee said, I was wondering... I saw that they all have different stats for jealousy levels, which is interesting!✧*。Anyway, my question was, how would their different personalities play into how they acted when, you know, losing their shit? Like, full on yandere mode! (��｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ ~ Tea

Hello! Thank you for sending in an ask! I'm so glad you like my game so far, and I'm super excited for it to come out! After reading your ask, I literally had a giant smile on my face!

The whole reason I made this game was so people could choose their personality and how they want to react to a yandere. What gave me this idea is when I was reading fanfics I always saw people complaining about the MC so I really want this game to be like choose your own character type kind of thing. And tbh right now Xenos is one of my favorites and I would give him everything so OF COURSE there will be options to indulge them :3

Each character I made after a certain type of personality so you get the full Yandere experience, Which means varying levels of jealousy and other things ;)

Apollo, in his delusional state, is quick to feel betrayed and insecure, especially when things don’t go the way he imagines. His mind spirals into irrational conclusions, leaving him in a whirlwind of confusion and hurt. In these moments, he’s like a puppy desperately seeking reassurance. But no matter how much pain he feels, he’ll never direct the blame at you. To him, you’re flawless, untouchable. Instead, he turns on himself and those around him, lashing out with accusations. He'll say things like, "They must’ve tricked you," or, "It’s all their fault!" He becomes his own worst critic, convinced that he must be the one who’s not good enough, or that everyone else is conspiring against your love. Yet through it all, in his mind, you remain perfect—beyond reproach, untouched by his anger, the center of his affection.

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Soren, on the other hand, has two sides. His sadistic side where It doesn’t matter if it’s not your fault—he finds a twisted pleasure in watching you squirm under his accusations. His sadistic tendencies ensure that punishment is inevitable, and while he might take his frustrations out on you, there’s no need to worry about your pretty face. Soren values beauty too much to mar it, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get off easily. His temper flares unpredictably, much like Xenos, and when he lashes out, it’s with a dangerous mix of frustration and cruelty. He might bind you, lock you away, or even subject you to mental torment, always ensuring you’re aware of who’s in control, but the surface will remain unscathed—after all, you’re his pretty little thing.

Soren his most common side is where he manipulates you. If he senses you drifting away, he’ll break down, tears streaming down his face as he pleads for your attention. His soft, angelic appearance makes it easy for you to feel sorry for him, to comfort him despite your better judgment. In those moments, he knows exactly how to make you fall back into his grasp, using every bit of his charm to ensure you stay right where he wants you. His manipulative side is just as dangerous as his sadism—he plays both roles effortlessly, depending on what keeps you in his collection.

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Lynx, in all his arrogance, expects nothing less than complete devotion. In his mind, you belong to him—his possession, his plaything—but he’d never admit it openly. Instead, he hides behind layers of pride and tsundere denial, acting as if your existence is merely to serve him and fulfill his every whim. You’re there to do his bidding, cater to his needs, and he’ll rarely give you the satisfaction of knowing just how much he actually cares.

When jealousy strikes, that’s when his true feelings bubble to the surface, though he’ll never express it in any way other than through sharp words. He’ll lash out, insulting you in that indirect, roundabout way of his. Maybe it’s something like, "Why would I care what you do? It’s not like you’re important or anything," or a sarcastic comment meant to remind you of your place. It’s his way of asserting control, of letting you know that he’s the one in charge, and you’re his. But deep down, you might catch a glimpse of the truth—the possessiveness hidden behind his words, the flicker of insecurity that drives his cruel tongue.

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Xenos is the embodiment of obsession, always lurking in the shadows, watching your every move with a twisted sense of fascination. He prefers to stay hidden, observing from afar as he documents every detail of your life. His favorite pastime? Playing little tricks on you, just to see your adorable reactions. Maybe it's something as simple as moving your belongings or sending anonymous messages, but he lives for the moments when your confusion shows on your face, savoring every expression as if it's a personal gift.

However, when jealousy consumes him, his calm facade cracks wide open. Much like Kanto from Diabolik Lovers, Xenos doesn't handle jealousy well—he’s far too emotionally unstable. He’ll lash out in a childish fit of frustration, screaming and crying as if the world’s crashing down. His tantrums are unpredictable, full of wild accusations and irrational behavior, all fueled by the fear of losing his obsession.

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Nox is perhaps the most overprotective among them, making him seem like the tamest at first glance. His primary concern is your safety, and he genuinely believes that no one can care for you as well as he can. Nox doesn't outwardly display jealousy; in fact, he convinces himself that he's not jealous at all. But actions speak louder than words. He might subtly isolate you from others under the guise of protection, insisting that the world is too dangerous for someone as precious as you.

When he locks you away, it's not out of malice but out of a twisted sense of love and duty. "It's for your own good," he'll say softly, assuring you that this is the only way to keep you safe from all the bad creatures out there. His demeanor is gentle, his touch soft, making it easy to overlook the fact that you're essentially a prisoner in his care. Nox creates a comfortable environment for you, tending to your needs and lavishing you with attention. He might bring you your favorite books, cook your favorite meals, and spend hours engaging in conversations to keep you content.

Deep down, Nox struggles with the fear of losing you to the dangers he perceives in the world—or perhaps to others who might win your affection. He masks his insecurities by focusing on your well-being, convincing both you and himself that his actions are justified. In his mind, he's your guardian angel, the only one capable of ensuring your happiness and safety. While he doesn't throw fits of jealousy like others might, his overprotectiveness is a cage wrapped in kindness.

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Kaine is the ultimate flirt, always playful and teasing, never seeming to take anything too seriously. His charm is effortless, and he thrives on the reactions he gets, especially when he makes you blush or sends a shiver down your spine. It’s a game to him—he’ll scare you just enough to have you running straight into his arms, unaware that he’s the danger you should be fleeing from. The thrill of seeing fear flash in your eyes is something he relishes, and unlike others, he’s not subtle about it. He openly adores how vulnerable you become in those moments, how easy it is for him to slip in and play the hero to the very terror he creates.

While Kaine shares a sadistic streak with Soren, he’s far more forward about it. He doesn't hide behind tears or manipulative tactics; he sees no need to. In his mind, he doesn’t have to play mind games to make you his. He’s confident—perhaps even cocky—in his ability to get what he wants without resorting to deception. He believes he can break you down, piece by piece, and mold you into his perfect, compliant doll with nothing more than his charm and his sadistic tendencies.

Kaine’s affection is fierce and dangerous, but he’ll never hide it. He’ll show you exactly how much he enjoys your fear, how much it excites him to see you squirm, all while flashing that irresistible smile. There’s no need for manipulation when he can so easily bend you to his will with a mere glance or whispered word. His goal isn’t just to own you; it’s to reshape you, to transform you into his ideal creation—a perfect doll that responds to his every whim, trapped by the very affection that feels both comforting and terrifying.

[allwormdiet]

Insinuation 2.7

Finally, some good fucking interpersonal developments

They cheer when she joins the team? That's outrageously cute, stop that right now

Also yeah Taylor you're faking companionship for personal gain of course you feel bad, that's been like 10% of the torment you specifically have been subjected to (I'm not supposed to know about Julia's shit yet but whatever)

Again, very clever ideas made less clever by the ensuing practicalities of the situation. The thing with the spider silk all over again, but now the stakes are higher, and that's probably gonna be a recurring thing

God but it kills me how low Taylor's self-esteem is, poor girl. Emma and the others have done such heinous fucking damage. Someone rizz this girl up or something (am I using "rizz" right), let her feel like she can be attractive

Jesus how touch-starved is Taylor at this point in her life

How often does anyone just go for casual physical closeness with her

Does her dad even hug her that much anymore? Does she let him, or does she bristle at the vulnerability and push him away?

...I wonder if Lisa knows this and is taking it into account.

God, finally, a normal view of the Docks. I cannot begin to describe my relief at the fact that the narration here was like, fine, actually. Thank you for lightening up on them Taylor, please let this last

The Undersiders' hangout sounds about like what I'd expect, although the whole "abandoned factory beneath the loft" part I think escaped me before. Very Lost Boys of them

...I have to imagine it smells at least a little rank in there. Two teenage boys, plus dog smell, and I can't imagine Rachel is super observant of her hygiene, and I don't know enough about Tattletale to say whether she's bad about cleanliness but even if she was that's one against, I dunno, six if you count the dogs. Maybe they invest part of the team budget into Febreze or something

This is... sweet, actually. From both sides. They're making accommodations for Taylor, and Taylor is accepting those accommodations to do them all a favor

Insane that a Ward like, is actively trying to murder someone. What kind of beef does Sophi Shadow Stalker even have with Brian?

I feel some kind of sadness at how young Brian is and how much he acts like an adult. There's almost never a happy story behind kids or teenagers who act that way. It'd be nice if he got more opportunities to relax and act his age, buuuut I don't think this is that kind of story

What a cool power though, honestly. I know the migraines are a motherfucker and I'd probably be a huge baby about that if I had to deal with it, but just shortcutting so much guesswork about like, everything with people and things

Also it's great to see Taylor realize how bad she might have fucked up in trying to infiltrate this team

Heh, yeah, exactly

I wonder what Lisa's reading off of all this. She must have remarkable self-discipline to not be cackling evilly rn

Ruh roh Raggy

Current Thoughts

I love these kiiiiiiiids

It pains me to know they've all had a shit enough time in their lives to all trigger as parahumans, especially being spoiled on Alec's deal as a spawn of Heartbreaker and Lisa's borderline prison sentence under Coil and Brian's struggle with his family. Idk if we ever get more insight into Rachel's path, I'd like to hear it even though I don't think she'd be quick to talk about herself, but I'm gonna guess it's about as sad as the others

I want them all to be happy, and keep being friends without the pressure from Coil to all do crime shit

I know I don't get what I want

so I'll just enjoy the time spent with them best I can

...Anyway I wonder if Taylor's gonna get a mild fear of dogs after this or what

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi!! How would König react to his Engel having sh scars? I know this is a sensitive request, feel free to ignore it 🫶

Aw I don't mind but thank you for being sensitive 💞 😘

Please skip dear readers if this is triggering for you 🩷

König will notice your scars soon, if not immediately. He knows every old bruise and cut and scar on his skin and the stories behind them, his body is a whole map of old wounds, war, and torment. Therefore he pays close attention to other people's scars.

He won't bring them up too soon out of discretion, but they make him sad, upset, and angry. He knows they are self-inflicted, and the hurt it sends in his heart is maddening because he wants to hurt the ones who have made you hurt. But what to do when you have hurt yourself…?

He eventually asks about them to root out the one guilty for your pain. It must be someone else's fault that you have resorted to cutting yourself.

"Engel, are these… have you hurt yourself?" He asks the question one day when you two are cuddling. He deliberately brings his fingers to your scars and brushes a touch over them to make it known that he sees you… All of you.

"It was... years ago," you answer with a mixture of unease, shame and sadness in your gut. It's never easy to talk about them, and besides, people usually settle for simply staring at them. They rarely if ever mention them or ask about them.

It's not the same with König, because there's no need for facades. He never shies sway from challenging topics. He can talk about gutting people with a trench knife and licking you until you make the cutest sounds – and talk about them almost in the same sentence – so why would discussing self inflicted harm be a taboo subject for him?

"Did someone make you sad?" He demands to know, and you spend the next thirty minutes assuring König that you were simply feeling horrible and desperate and there's no one to blame for it (even if there were, you would be reluctant to tell him because you know it would only make him bounce off the bed and start a manhunt).

It feels both good and bad to open up about your past, the heavy depression you went through. It's an oddly charming therapy session that ends in your therapist pulling you tight against him. You have a feeling that this man who, distortedly enough, loves the exact tools you used to cut yourself with actually understands you better than any therapist ever could.

What breaks your heart, however, is when König hugs you and sighs: "I wish I had been there when you needed me." His attempts to fix the past, present and future is heartrending, but this was a fight he couldn't win – it was yours, and you had to go through it alone.

"Angel... I know how it feels to hate yourself. You must come to me if you're feeling angry or sad. Ja?" His words are blunt and straight to the point. König never sugar-coat things, but that's what you love about him. He sees the beauty in mundane, ordinary things, he sees meaning even in despair. He says how it is, and you know he's a connoisseur in that area – self-hate, that is. You fully believe him when he says he's not a stranger to pain. In that realm, you share a bond.

Then he begs you to promise him to never hurt yourself again. If you're feeling sad, you must come to him so that he can help you. He will always remind you of your worth if you'd happen to forget it.

There's no need for tears, not when he's here. You feel an odd, peaceful calm in your soul, laying there in his arms after revealing the deepest pits of your hell to him. He's not afraid of your darkness at all. He even kisses those scars, and that's when your lashes begins to flutter along with your heart. He whispers loving things on your skin, kisses your wounds with love, the same wounds people have simply stared with pity, confusion, and ridicule.