#in his life: everything good is taken away

[hachiane]

ranking the LADS boys on who takes the best Instagram photos

a/n — just my headcanons!! may be OOC, majorly she/her reader pronouns

count : 950 words

#1 Rafayel Qi

— takes one look at your inspo photos and scoffs, “puh-leaase, i can do better than that.”. under his calm exterior, his painter's eye is roaring to life, the gears in his brain immediately turning when your phone is passed into his hands.

Rafayel matches your freak instantly and pretends he is like every photograph boyfriend every it-girl online seems to have; he's guiding you to pose, where to place your hands, tilt your face so he captures all your best angles, even the ones you didn't think you had. your personal hypeman as he snaps away, "yesss, cutie! you look so good!' "kill me with those sexy eyes of yours!" "makeup on point! show off your pretty lashes!"

it doesn't end there. Rafayel is also looking over your shoulder helping you choose the best shots, giving his small comments and suggestions as you edit them in your phone, things like "up the contrast, the shadows are dark in this one" or "why are you cropping like that? this makes you look taller".

after your impromptu photoshoot, he sings praises about you being the most beautiful muse, the cutest bodyguard. and of course, you have to take some couple selfies with him too as reward for his hard work.

Rafayel is your first like, first comment when you post, bombarding your notifications with comments. “that’s my bodyguard right there 😍” “you’re sooooooo hot 🔥🔥” “slay queen 💅🏼✨”

he'll do everything again, no doubt about it.

#2 Xavier Shen

— when you asked him the first time, he was hesitant. he says he read a book about it but never put it to practice, warning you that you might be disappointed. you shove your phone into his hands and that you're fine with whatever he gets in the end. (unintentionally that awakens his inner prince, determined to ensure his princess look her best in every frame)

the entire time, Xavier says nothing. you hear him snap away and hum to himself, but he's not saying anything to you; doesn't tell you how to pose, where to place your hands or if you should be looking at him. so most of the time, you’re by yourself testing out the poses you saw online and placing your blind, full-hearted trust that he gets the picture you imagined. 

the thing is, while poses look good on you, Xavier behind the camera much prefers your candid moments, because these says much more about you than poses other people have thought of. you in your natural state is the most beautiful to him, and he says so, “i only take pictures of pretty things and you like this is the most pretty to me”.

later, being the old soul he is, he purchases a polaroid printer to get physical copies of your photos and stashes them away in a journal or box, for these memories of you deserve to last lifetimes.

#3 Sylus Qin

— his pictures of you are decent enough. when you asked him the first time, he says he’ll get you a personal photographer if you so desire good photos, but your cutesy pleading and debating your point about the sentimental value of photos taken by him makes him give in. he follows your inspo photos to the T, but because of his height, you notice the angles are slightly higher than what they should be. like Xavier, he doesn't tell you how to pose; he just taps away on the shutter button as he moves around you here and there, occasionally hunching down for a low angle shot, with his other hand in his pocket, nonchalant as Sylus usually is.

accidentally left the live photo feature on for most of your photos, and while perturbed at first, those become his favourites; he gets to see a glimpse of your genuine smile at his ministrations before your expressions snap into a smouldering, radiant look that he would fall to his knees for time and time again. he sends the photos to himself afterwards without asking, shrugging when you question him about it when he was being so indifferent at first, “sentimental value, kitten”.

#4 Zayne Li

— unfortunately, Zayne takes photos like an aged father with two daughters; straight on, no angles, no direction, not much effort given the first few times. but after seeing your slightly disappointed look as you review the photos, even when you reassure him you're okay with them, he knows he’d done you wrong.

the next day, Zayne promptly asks his female colleagues and acquaintances with a photography hobby at the hospital for some tips and crash courses. of course they oblige him (because who could say no to the Dr Zayne when he asks for a favour?) with simple go-tos and the tricks. and Zayne being Zayne, he notes them all down in his personal notebook, studies it in his downtime, brings it home to read and practice on some "subjects" lying around the house: your collectible figures, the fresh bouquet for the living room, and so forth.

the next time the opportunity comes up, he breaks it to you he's been studying for this exact moment and asks if you would give him another attempt. although the photos end up not what you expected when he said he's been "learning", it's miles better than the first few times. Zayne would look at you expectantly for your reaction, and he heaves a sigh of assured relief when you compliment his improvement. when you post the recent photo he took of you, he cracks the widest smile he's had all week, liking and saving the photo to make it his phone background (though you've probably already sent it to him).

[midnightminx90writings]

Emmrich wasn’t lying to Rook when he said he doesn’t regret their relationship.

But he did have second thoughts about it, before the end. And those are the thoughts he regrets more than anything, because they could have cost him everything.

His whole life, all Emmrich has wanted is lasting love, something that will last into eternity. Someone to hold his hand, to sleep next to at night. A person that will sit next to him and read books, or work in a garden.

Someone who will say “I love you” in return and mean it.

Wanting is a scary thing. A terrifying thing, if he is to be honest with himself.

Because now he has found someone who wants him back, and while Rook flirts with him in return, and does so at frankly the strangest occasions, Emmrich is terrified this is just another fleeting thing.

But Rook takes his hand, takes his heart, takes all of him and turns those too large feelings into something slightly more manageable.

Parts are put into Manfred; into carefully guiding him to become more, to become someone who can take care of himself long after Emmrich is gone.

More than an assistant; now a prodigy. A son, as Rook says, and a part of Emmrich settles, a part he did not know needed settling, but there all the same.

Like the piece of a puzzle he never knew the scope of.

Then there’s Rook himself; calming and exciting in equal measures until Emmrich no longer knows which way is up.

Rook, who loves unconditionally and surprisingly, who turns Emmrich’s knees weak and holds him up with the same look in his eyes. Rook, who tells him gold is his favourite colour and in the next breath admits that Emmrich is his first in everything.

And how can a man respond to that?

By bewilderment, at first, then pure joy and pride over being chosen. And lastly, thoughts he would like to not admit to, calculating ones entailing how to best go about it, to show how good it can be with the right person. How right.

It feels selfish, Emmrich thinks, but shows an immense amount of trust.

He cannot say no to that. To hold that honour.

So he kisses Rook, shows him the merest hint of what he can look forward to, even as his own body screams at him to take it further but also to step away before he ruins something beautiful again.

He gives, in the end, helpless not to.

Emmrich knows the exact number of days that pass between Rook’s first expression of interest, to their first kiss, to their first time.

And he knows the exact number of days between that, and when Rook is taken from them. From him.

When Rook is taken, Emmrich is terrified.

His love is gone without a trace, after an argument between them that they did not resolve, and the loss of two of their dear friends.

Emmrich can see why people are driven to madness, to desperation, doing whatever it takes to get their loved one back. His books hold no aid for the first time in his life. He cannot return to the Necropolis because what if…

And so he cries and he rages and wears himself into exhaustion again and again, dreams filled with nightmares where Rook is never found and there is an empty grave next to those of his parents.

Even Manfred holds no comfort for him now, as hours turns into days, turn into weeks until finally, there is a hand in his, and he knows that hand unlike none other, and he thinks do not let go this time, clutch it as tight as you can until only eternity remains.

EDIT: now on AO3

[myrtlebranch1019]

Why Davrin is my favourite companion in DA:TV.

With characters like Neve and Emmrich in the game—both of whom are well-written and fall under my favorite character archetypes—it was surprising to find Davrin climbing into the number one spot on my list. For starters, I’ve never been particularly invested in the Grey Warden storyline outside of Origins and my Hero of Ferelden. I don’t typically gravitate toward Grey Warden romances either. All things considered, I would’ve expected Davrin to rank lower for me, certainly not first. But I always try to keep an open mind about characters, even if I’m not initially drawn to their subplots. Surprisingly, not only did Davrin become my favorite, but the Grey Wardens turned out to be the only faction whose writing I genuinely enjoyed.

Why Davrin stood out to me

Let’s start with what made me connect with Davrin specifically, because at the end of the day, preference is deeply subjective, and relatability is often a key factor. Nonetheless, I do feel Davrin's writing doesn’t get enough credit for how realistic his arc is. Everything we learn about his past points to him being the classic "small-town misfit" (in his case, a Dalish clan misfit) who wanted to break free of his bubble. Growing up, I had a similar mindset. I believed there had to be more to life than seeing the same faces, hearing the same perspectives, and following the same predetermined path.

In one conversation, Davrin mentions how his clan felt rejected by his decision to leave. That resonated with me, but what struck me more was the subtlety in how this rejection was portrayed. In my experience, the person who leaves often carries the weight of perceived rejection far longer than the community they leave behind, which typically moves on. This nuance was reflected in Davrin’s journey—how that sense of rejection motivated him to pursue his path without looking back. It’s a mix of choice and pride, and it’s telling that he only becomes eager to reconnect with his clan near the end of the game, after he’s accomplished what he wanted.

Then there’s the moment of failure that every person faces when they leave behind everything they know—when the unknown turns out to be far more brutal than anticipated. Davrin doesn’t shy away from this, admitting that he “got his ass kicked” and went broke. That particular conversation during his first personal quest hit close to home for me. As a Dalish elf, Davrin likely faced additional obstacles, such as the pervasive discrimination elves endure in this universe. His banter with Bellara (easily missed but incredibly insightful) sheds light on those early days of hardship: how he came to appreciate the things he’d once taken for granted, how he desperately sought purpose to make all his struggles worthwhile.

What I appreciated most was how realistic and difficult his journey felt. He didn’t simply leave his clan and immediately flourish; he had to mold himself into who he wanted to be, enduring setbacks and moments of doubt along the way. Leaving wasn’t painted as an objectively good or bad decision—it was a necessary step for his self-discovery. It also wasn’t framed as a critique of Dalish culture, which I found refreshing given BioWare’s frequent criticism of the Dalish. Davrin wasn’t used as a narrative tool to disparage their way of life; instead, his story highlights that he didn’t fit in and needed to explore a different path. Which is why he is the perfect character to decide the future of the Griffons, whether they will follow tradition or the road less travelled. (By the way, I felt the moment lost its impact when the final decision was left to Rook. I firmly believe that Davrin should have been the one to make the ultimate choice, with the outcome influenced by prior conversations.)

Additionally, while the stoic warrior archetype isn’t typically my cup of tea. (For example, while Blackwall is a complex and well-written character, I never really connected with him). With Davrin, I enjoyed that the stoicism is tempered by his snarky sense of humor, boldness, fiery passion and a softer, nurturing side that emerges in his relationship with Assan. Beneath these layers, there are moments in the game when his dialogue hints at deeper fears and vulnerabilities. His line about Wardens having an “expiration date” stood out to me, overall, the post-Weisshaupt conversation is a fascinating moment that deserves more attention. While the game resolves it quickly, there’s something poignant about how Davrin’s overwhelming need to belong and have a purpose makes him the quintessential "army dreamer." This aspect of his character—the drive to prove himself and tie his self-worth to a cause and subsequently an accomplishment is subtle and easy to miss beneath the more heroic motivation to protect others, but it’s still there.

For the Adventurous Misfits

I could write much more about Davrin (and probably will in future posts), but ultimately, he’s my favorite because he represents the adventurous misfits. He’s for the ones who leave their safety bubble only to get brutally punched in the face by life. For those who tie their self-worth to their achievements and set impossible standards for themselves. Anyone who tries to avoid caring, because they’re only capable of caring too much. And lastly, for those who despite everything, refuse to give up. Davrin’s journey is one of self-discovery, resilience, and growth, and it's a story that feels both deeply personal and universally relatable.

[lunajay33]

My Princess

•🪽🦇💙•

Summary: You are Feyres sister and have always been shy but when everything happens and you and your sisters become Fae, you find yourself falling in love with the mysterious shadow brother

Pairing: Azriel x Feyres sister

Content: Sneaking around, fluff, smut, getting caught

•Masterlist•

I never thought much about how my life would turn out, living in a run down home with my three sisters and father gave me no hope for what could come, I thought I would die young of either illness or starvation, I always tried to help Feyre when I could just to help and get away from Nesta and Elain, they never liked me much, I am I second youngest and they liked to point out every flaw of mine

But then one day everything changed when we were kidnapped and thrown into a cauldron changing out forms, from human to far, Nesta took an immense amount of power, Elain could feel the future and me, well I haven’t shown anyone what I’ve discovered, I can morphe into the shadows, dissapear whenever I want, it came in hand when Nesta would get in one of her fits with who ever dared step up to her

But then one night as I was slipping into the shadows I met the most adorable little tendrils of shadow that seemed were alive, they were all over me swirling around with what I assumed was joy as they led me to Azriel, he was quiet like me and I found comfort in that silence but never had the never to approach him until the shadows brought me right into his room, as I’m in the shadow of his book shelf

Noticing him straighten up and peer around as his shadows spoke to him

“I know you’re here” my heart leapt, I shifted back into my fae solid form and stood before him nervously

“So you are gifted after all” he stood infront of me, shirtless showing his broad shoulders and ripped body

“Ummm yeah, please don’t tell the others”

“And why not?” I shrugged unsure of why I had to explain my reasonings only making him smirk

“You’re not like your sisters, you’re…….different”

“Different bad?”

“No different good, you’re intriguing and mysterious, you don’t put everyone out there”

•

From that day forward we kept our nightly meetings between eachother and it was sooooo easy, sneaking through the shadows right to his room, we started just talking and getting to know eachother but along the way I fell for him, how could I not he’s so beautiful inside and out and one night when all the others were busy getting drunk at a bar I felt my soul meld with his and his mine

That night we accepted the bond and we haven’t been able to stop, it’s been a week and our hunger for eachother hasn’t been quenched and it’s getting harder to hide this relationship

“Do you think we should tell the others?” I ask him as we catch our breathes, my head resting in his shoulder, his hand dragging up and down my back

“If that’s what you want my angel, but I can’t say sneaking around doesn’t make things more hot” he smirks as he grips my hip

“Maybe just a little longer” I giggle as I turn and straddle his legs laying forward on his chest

“Ready for more already?” His voice got deeper sending shivers down my spine

“Are you able to” I love to tease him knowing he has taken me multiple times in one night

“Please woman” he grabs my hips and grinds them up and down his hardening dick, I’ve heard about the girls talking about the comparison between wingspans but there is absolutely no way Rhys or Cassian could be bigger than my man, he nearly splits me apart

“I love you Azriel” I moan as he slowly stretches me out

“Not as much as I love you Angel, fuck you feel so good” at this angle he was just hitting every part just right it was impossible to keep quiet

“Oh god more I want more” I scream when he thrusts up into me faster and faster

“OH AZRIEL YES RIGHT THERE” I scream not even caring right now who here’s

“So good, mother above I’ll never get enough of you” right as I’m about to be in heaven the door bursts open and everyone in the group is standing there wide eyed and mouths hanging

“Ummmm what the hell is going on” Nesta shouts anger written all over her face

Azriel sits up and holds me closer covering my body

“Can we have a moment to get decent” he groans his shadows pushing the others out and slamming the door

“I’m nervous, did you see the way Nesta and Elain were looking at me?” He pulled out and helped put his shirt on me as he pulled on his own sweatpants

“Don’t worry it’ll be fine come on!” He took my hand and led me downstairs to where everyone was sat around in the living room

“Congrats brother!” Cassian congratulated Azriel patting him on the back

“How long has this been going on?” Feyre asks with a little smile as she sat next to Rhys

“Well we’ve been talking for a while at night but then last week our mating bond happened and we accepted immediately” I say holding his hand tighter

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Rhys asked

“Obviously she knows she’s not good enough to be with him I mean look at her” Nesta laughed, I hung my head low before Azriel pulled me in at the waist

“Watch your mouth, don’t think I can’t destroy your life just because you’re the high ladies sister

“She’s not wrong” Elain whispered but we all heard

“That’s enough they had their reasons and it’s their relationship, Nesta and Elain you need to leave her alone I’ve had enough of you two always bashing on her just because you know she’s better than you, I’m happy for you sister” Feyre smiles

“You can go to the family cabin if you wish while still in your mating faze” Rhys adds looking happy for his brother the next instant in standing in the cabin Azriel holding me tight from behind

“You know they’re not right, your as pretty as the stars” he says placing kisses up my neck

“Thank you Az, now how about we get back to what we started”

“Don’t have to ask me twice”

[noxturnalmoth]

Literary Service

Life is a cruel mother but a great teacher. In Noxus, where life is but an afterthought, war raises its people with an iron fist. Whether they like it or not. So when one is courageous enough to escape, they learn to take all that life has to offer, even if it has to be by the skin of their teeth. What would happen if the scholarship that provided you with an escape made you encounter a man as great with his words as he is with hiding the festering wounds in his heart? And what if he was your teacher?

Chapter 1: Unintentional Consequences

(written by @yoghurtcup )

You'd almost forgotten what a nice breeze felt like. The colors of the world brightening again, trees and grass, the smell of fresh bloodless air fills your lungs and your mind with nothing more than a strong sense of hope. You made it, finally free from the hell that had taken you, broken you, rattled your spirit and made you almost entirely numb. Finally at the entrance gate to ZTC, after recovering from the pain they inflicted on you, the broken bones and attempted broken spirit. You had passed out from the pain and exhaustion after walking all the way to Zaun's border alone. Through gritted teeth, dried blood and tears, you forced yourself closer and closer to the sweet taste of victory. You had run on nothing but hope and the last remains of adrenaline from fighting off those bastards who wanted nothing more than to kill you for having a dream that wasn't war. Someone had found you, taken you in and nursed you to health, your injuries were severe, is what you were told. They'd broken a good bit of your spine and your leg will never be the same again either, which meant you'd need to use a crutch, or on bad days a wheelchair.

There was dread of course, knowing that you'd never be the same, that in the short span of a day you'd lost everything that made you useful to yourself and the people who took you. In Noxus, losing the ability to walk, to fight and protect yourself meant death. But as you're given a crutch and feel the intense pain slightly subside you remind yourself that this isn't Noxus. Not anymore. You had clawed your way to freedom, and of course it would take something from you as a reminder of how you got there. Even with this setback you would not let it ruin your joy or hope for the future you spent so long planning. Even now as you thank the person who saved your life and helped you recover what you could of your body, now changed forever with the aspect of disability, you feel your anger and grief slowly wash away. The blood on your hands stain forever, but you realize that you are doing this not only for yourself, but for the family and friends you'd lost all those years ago.

You double check for the letter in your pocket, exhaling relief when you feel it and taking your first genuine step onto campus. It takes some getting used you, using a crutch on one arm to steady yourself as you make the slow agonizing trek across the paved track. There's so many buildings here, so many people doing things or just sitting around talking to eachother and mingling, loitering without a fear for their lives, laughing and talking carefree and enjoying life in the moment. Your head was spinning, caught between a fear that your past will choose to follow you, and the joy that you finally took your life by the neck and choked it into submission, though now your hands will not need to be washed in blood. Instead, you imagine your fingerprints grazing pages of books, or tapping against the keys of a laptop the good samaritan who saved your life gave you as a final parting gift. You eventually find your way and show the right person your letter, and they regarded you warmly as you were given a free sweatshirt and your schedule. Just like that, you truly made it.

Staring at the schedule in your hand you realize that you have no idea where any of the places are. Since you walked here you missed the tour and another won't happen until the next day, and you aren't going to stand there looking dumb until the sun goes down. You decide that maybe it would be smart of you to ask someone who clearly knows their way around, so you take it upon yourself to carefully and as kindly as possible walk up to the nearest person who looks as if they've seen their fair share of the college night life. They were halfway through pointing out where the dorm rooms were when you felt a hand rest on your shoulder, and without thinking you grabbed onto the wrist of this person and flipped them onto their back, pupils dilated in an instant as your face felt hot and you were moving automatically. Your hands moved on their own, punching, pulling and clawing your way past skin, muscle and nearly to bone. Your mind rushed to that night where you were attacked, the laughing from your attackers and the blood in your mouth. The heavy stone breaking your spine and nearly your spirit. You pull out hair, and tears hot and heavy stream down your face before you have a chance to realize what you were doing. The screams weren't helping, and no one was brave enough to pull you away from this poor person and you continue you destroy the parts of their face you can reach, body on its own while mind tried to reign it in. People run, or cry, or nearly throw up at the blood that covers you and you try so hard to stop yourself, you don't want to be this anymore, you don't want your first impression to be this violent thing that you were forced into being. Beautiful green grass stained red by your hands and with your luck, this will be the first and last time you ever see grass again.

"At Ease." You hear between the screaming and gagging of hundreds surrounding you, and your body stops on command. Like a good little soldier, like the past you want to forget exists, that made you into the animal that ruined this poor victims face. You look at your hands and the person you hurt, the damage was hard to see through the blood, and you feel yourself crudely cracking a smile at the damage before you break down into tears. "On your feet." And you listen, still sobbing through bloodied hands, the metallic smell of violence filling your nostrils and forcing out a louder choked sob as you nearly crumble to your knees again. A gentle hand grabs your wrist and you feel your body tensing again, ready to do whatever it needed to keep you alive again, except you felt too weak to do more damage. You berate yourself in the back of your mind as you let whoever has hold of you walk you away from the crowd, voices of panic and disgust slowly fading while you are led somewhere else entirely and in your head you realize that this is it for you, and you're done for, and your college life started and ended in the span of two minutes. Thoughts going wild as you're sat down by this mystery person, a gentle hand wiping the blood from your hands as you silently weep. Cool cloth getting the flesh from your fingernails before another wipes at your face. Finally feeling the need to move again you take the cloth and clean your own face, dark red essence and tears invisible on the imbibed cloth, which you were so thankful for.

The sound of a lighter sparking takes your attention away from your own horrid thoughts, then the light crackles of a cigarette and exhalation of smoke. A careful hand offers you one, unlit and carefully held by the paper between two pale fingers. You take it, and once it was placed between trembling lips a generous light followed and you take a long drag of it, letting the smoke build up as you think about what you've just done, what you always did and what you were trained to do. The screams and terror filled expressions cloud your vision, the memories you have filled with red, everything red and bloody, the rain a rough scarlet as you claw and break and kill anything in your way. "Holding it in hardly does a thing, you know." The sharp voice tears you from your mind violently. You exhale the smoke you had no idea you were holding in and feel yourself calm down. The aftertaste tells you this isn't a regular cigarette, and you huff in mild amusement. "That was quite a show back there." The voice began, and you turn to face it finally. To say you were surprised is nothing less than an understatement, you have seen horrors but you have never seen skin lined in specific scars tracing from the corner of mouth to temple. Even crazier was the eye that looked at you, a pitch black unblinking thing, with a blood red pupil that seemed to know more of your sins than you would dare tell a soul, and a profile sporting a sharp and featuristic aquiline nose that grabbed attention just as much. "Never have I seen such raw violence. You must be from somewhere particularly destructive on one's mind."

He turns to look at you, the other half of his face a stark contrast, lightly stressed skin with a calm teal eye, yes it still seems to be staring into you and you feel heavily exposed. You start to shake your head, then you nod, finding lying difficult. You are Noxian now, or were, as that was all you could remember after years of trying to hold onto what life was like outside the fiery planes of hell itself. You put the still burning cigarette in your mouth and take a drag, he looks over you carefully before continuing. "I know it was an accident. Violence like that, the following screams of anguish, that is never on purpose." He gestures vaguely to you, the exhaustion is probably obvious on you, and you feel as if he'd called you out on something. You hang your head slightly, and he snuffs out the cigarette he'd lost interest in. "I'll talk to the Principal, and ask the hospital how poor Alex is doing once they finish looking him over." You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder as you take a final quiet drag of the cigarette, finally calm after that horrible few minutes of too many emotions pushing you past that point of no return.

"You need rest, take the remainder of the day off alright? We are right behind the dorm building." He hands you your crutch as you had dropped it during the incident, and you were greatful he decided to take you and your aid out of that situation. You look at him with an apology in your throat, but Noxians do not apologize and that keeps you from saying anything. He simply holds out his hand for you to take, and you do just that, something about him makes you drop guard and follow what he says, which not even your old commanders and generals could get from you. Walking you into the dorms and helping you find the elevators to your floor, and your room. You were glad you chose the single person dorms instead of the group, the size of the room larger than your old sleeping quarters, with a bed that looked to actually fit you. Sitting on the bed and taking everything in, he gives you a brief nod and reaches for the doorknob. "Try not to worry to hard, alright? I know that this is a less than ideal beginning, but everyone starts somewhere. Welcome to Zaun Tech." He leaves, the door closing gently behind him as the sound of his shoes slowly disapears leaving you in solitude with your thoughts. Though you find yourself exhausted once again, and the violent memories fight against Morpheus' embrace as you lay back on the bed and lazily toss clothes off and onto the floor. For once in your life, much to your bitter amusement, the memories lost their battle and you find yourself asleep. You dream of nothing that night, and you thank every God watching over Runeterra for it.

The problem when you fall asleep with no one to wake you is that time slips away. It was peaceful, of course, being able to rest by your lonesome with no one observing you or murmuring in their sleep. Though peace further ruins your already horrible record with this school as you find yourself rushing to whichever class you could make it to, as you slept clean through the first two. Moving as fast as the crutch and the painful limp can allow, you make it to the room as a few people still trickle in and you stop just outside the door to catch your breath. A few faces you remember from the day before, they look at you slightly worried but other than that regard you as someone not worth missing class for. Thankful for the carefree nature of most people already, you gather yourself and walk into the amphitheater. Literature was what was on the schedule, you check the door number three times before finding a seat not too far back from the front of the class, but far enough to where the light doesn't give you a migraine. Once seated you relax a bit, mulling over the idea of what reactions would the teacher of the two previous courses have over your absence. You look to the front towards the projector, mind drifting back to those hours you spent scribing war plans and self absorbed ramblings for narcissists. "Alright," That voice snapping you from your thoughts yet again. He's here, but why? You watch him walk into the room, arms behind his back and a slight dip to his gait. "If everyone is seated, class can begin." He makes eye contact with you, his red eye covered generously with an eyepatch and smiles. No way. You look at your schedule, then back to him. The world seemed to cave in all at once. Mr. Marlowe, your literature teacher, is the man you'd shared a smoke with yesterday.

prev || m.list || next

[narcjsistx]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 | OS

karasu tabito x fem reader ; words: 1.9k (1939)

coming from this event, fifth day, 22/12

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: the pact had been clear from the beginning: only needy kisses when the situation called for it, but no relationships. everything had been going smoothly up until that point, but the main problem was that now you were falling for your enemy's best friend. does tabito not want relationships because he doesn't want to set up seriously or just because he's afraid of ruining everything by being mediocre?

Even though you are literally in each other's arms, you feel Karasu light years away from you. The grip he had on your hips a few seconds ago has suddenly diminished, remaining sloppily leaning but not holding them. It took just a few words to destroy the perfect harmony that has existed between you since this strange situation began, and you don't know whether to regret having said them or to still be as convinced as you were until recently. You just know that, now, Karasu is not the same one who was kissing you until a moment ago, with the same usual sweetness

"We should stop. I'm starting to develop feelings for you and I don't want to suffer through something like this"

Words spoken in one breath, but which contained everything, or more, that you felt for the boy who until today has always been your kisser. You said that you started, and not that for months now you have thought only and exclusively of him, that you dream of being able to have a relationship with him, that you would simply like to stop being an ordinary girl and become his girlfriend. But what you dreamed of didn't fit your plan, the one that until now had given you the chance to be so close to him. The plan was simple: just kisses, maybe sooner or later a sexual relationship if you both agreed, but never and ever a relationship

Yet, it seemed so easy to fall in love with him. Karasu is polite, he knows how to joke without being offensive, he has a hobby that he is committed to and has many friends who love him, and he also knows how to treat women. It was impossible for you to understand how a boy like that is best friends with Otoya Eita, the same boy who broke your heart after a relationship that lasted no more than two weeks. You could easily say that the hatred you felt for the ninja turned into love when it came to Tabito.

It all started with this pretext: help me make Otoya regret leaving me, make him understand that I am the best girl he could spend his life with. Betting on his best friend had been a risky choice, but Karasu had accepted. And so, in front of the white and green haired boy, the kisses between you and Karasu had begun their battle against him, who frankly had never paid much attention to you two, only surprised to see Karasu with someone after long time since last time

Almost everyone, even his friends, thought you were a couple. But you both said no, you were just young and a relationship would only hinder the beautiful bond you had. Yet, your goal of making Otoya jealous had turned into nothing in less than a few weeks, while you began to reflect that Karasu was actually a good guy. That, besides the kisses, he also treated you well, and he didn't have the same behavior with girls as he had with you

And so, for a year now, you had begun to think that you loved him seriously, that kisses were not enough for you. It had taken you a year to say the words you had just said to him, and yet you had already regretted it. His face conveyed an all too obvious surprise, untypical for someone like him

"I know you don't want a relationship, so let's end this. It was fun"

You knew he didn't want a relationship, he had made it clear from the start. You had talked about it other times, and his words were always the same. They hurt you, but they were reality

"I don't want a relationship, it would hinder me and my future career as a striker. Professional players never have a steady relationship until they reach an important goal, and I will do the same. After I win, I will look for someone to spend the rest of my life with. But it's not that time yet"

Your heart hurt, your body, everything. It hurt to think that from now on, you would do without him, without his lips on yours and without the good feeling that always existed in your stomach when you knew he was looking at you. You were letting go of something you loved so much, but you knew that by doing so, maybe you would save yourself more future pain

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. It's all over, I don't want anymore"

You didn't know why he didn't want a relationship, or rather, the explanation he had given you so long ago didn't seem entirely right. Karasu, in your eyes, seemed like someone who needed love so much, who even sought it, but why did he reject it if he had plenty of it, of yours, under his hands?

There was something that told you that he was rejecting love because of a more personal fear, because of something that you had always had before your eyes but had never understood. Something that, you thought, made him very insecure. But what was this insecurity of his if he was so perfect? What he was hiding from you?

Slowly, you pulled away from his grip, which no longer held you to him. Your lowered gaze helped you not to look him in the eyes, because seeing even a shred of sadness would have destroyed you. It was the best choice, but why did it hurt?

"You can't be serious, everything is going great"

"It's precisely because everything is going well that I want to stop. Karasu, I think I seriously love you, kisses are no longer enough for me. But at the same time, I know you don't want a relationship, and I don't want to force you to have one with me. If everything continues to go so well in my mind we will be like boyfriend and girlfriend, while you will continue to think of us as just two friends. And I will suffer from this, because I know myself"

You had to be harsh with your words, even if you didn't really want to be, and especially not with him, who hadn't actually done anything to you. But if you weren't, it would have been even worse

He didn't want a relationship. He didn't want a relationship. He didn't want a relationship

But really, why?

"You can't just go away and break everything. Don't you think about me?"

Karasu has never been someone who blames things, he has always admitted that he hates those who do it, because he thinks they are mediocre, and he hates mediocre people

"Yes, and it's better for both"

"You don't know what's fucking best for me..."

"Instead, yes. Think of it as if our relationship was a test for what you will have with your future girlfriend"

"I don't even want to think about anyone else other than you"

Karasu wasn't the type to say things like that, especially things that sounded like a declaration of love, and hell, it seemed like one to you. Why did he just say those words if he always reminded you that he doesn't want to think about anything but his career? Is there seriously something he's hiding from you that goes beyond the simple justification he's always given you?

"If you don't think I know what's best for you, tell me. What's best for you, Tabito?"

Maybe you had crossed the line, just maybe

"The best thing for me is to believe that I am enough for you, but I can't be if I am so disgustingly mediocre. Giving you something mediocre, being yours, is something that bothers me, because I never want to see you with something or someone who is not on your level. The thought of you walking away suffocates me, but I know that sooner or later you would realize how much I am not enough. I don't want you Y/n, even if I really do, because you don't deserve shit. Why did you fall in love with someone like me instead, so mediocre?"

So there was actually something in Karasu's thoughts, something that you actually didn't even remotely expect: how could he, so perfect in your eyes, consider himself mediocre?. The excuse of his career was therefore evidently just a bullshit to hide this more intimate side of his, who had fought so hard to hide it from your eyes, who instead saw it with an inhuman perfection

"Mediocre things don't work, they don't make things enjoyable. Settling is not love, and putting yourself in a situation like that would destroy me. I would ruin everything sooner or later, trust me"

You wanted to shut him up, you seriously wanted to. Hearing him talk so badly about himself hurt your heart, since you didn't even remotely have these thoughts about him. Never ever, in your thoughts, had you imagined him ruining everything, he who in situations always tried to resolve in the best possible way. Maybe he wasn't aware of how great it was, how 'mediocre' was the last word in the world to describe it. Maybe he was genuinely insecure about something that didn't actually exist, but was just in his head for some unknown reason

"If you consider me enough for everything, how do you explain the thing that I fell in love with you, that instead you consider yourself mediocre? Don't you think that I fell in love because you are so perfect in my eyes that I don't understand your doubts? Karasu, you have no idea how much you are not even remotely wrong, you are anything but wrong. Falling in love with someone so perfect, who knows how to love but is afraid, is I think one of the most intelligent things I have ever done, and you know that I have done a lot of stupid things in life. But I want to make you aware of how much you are enough, much more than enough. For me you know how to love, you want someone who loves you, but you are afraid. I want to take away this fear from you"

Silently, you had unmasked the mask that Karasu Tabito had so glued to his face: under that self-confident, sometimes even selfish face, there was a boy who was extremely insecure about himself, who was just waiting for someone who could love him without fear of his insecurities. You had destabilized him with your words, you could see it from the way he was slowly destroying himself. Your words were true, and you hoped that by destroying himself he would understand that you meant them

"Suppose I accept your love. Suddenly I do something, I ruin everything"

"I'll try to love you again until everything works perfectly. And in the meantime you learn where you went wrong and you don't do it again, because I know you can do it. To err is human"

You wanted to love him, you wanted him to love himself. And if trying again with him every time meant making him realize that he wasn't as shit as he said he was, you would try again and again

Mediocre was his fear, not he. A human mediocrity, because in reality everyone has fears of this kind; you had some too

"Let yourself be loved, Karasu. Let your dream come true, because I never want to see you sad about something like that"

"If I make a mistake, will you try again? Shall we try again?"

"Until my last breath"

TAG: @natmagaesp ; @kittenish0 ; @x3nafix

[makoredeyes]

(are these still open?x) 30. Misraaks and Saint x

YESSSSS thank you for sending me probably one of my favorite prompts! <3 <3 <3

#30 - as a comfort

The Market District was a bright place full of color, movement, light, and sound. Life moved all around Saint as he ambled carefully around shoppers and booths alike, admiring the people as much as the wares on display.

There were enough humans here mingling with the Eliksni of House Light that Saint almost blended in, if it weren't for his significant stature, and that, for the moment at least, he was the only Exo in the crowd. It warmed his heart to see Humanity and their once enemies mixing peacefully. It was a beautiful day. The sun was out, the sky was clear. The scent of flowers mixed with sweetly with roasting meats and breads. A pair of Drekhs plucked away on acoustic guitars in the shade of a tree, the couple tinkering on a duet together. Saint shot them a smile as he passed and one raised a secondary arm in greeting. The other, a transplant from another house, was still regrowing docked arms, but tipped its snout up instead. Saint's smile brightened as he passed along, ducking under low-hanging flower pots and through an archway.

Eido's grotto was cooler, but no less bright than outside. There were flowers everywhere, and butterflies danced in sunbeams filtering down through the ceiling. Saint reckoned they must be drawn to her sweet demeanor because he'd seen them nowhere else outside. One curious, sociable creature knew another, he reasoned warmly.

The young Scribe was nowhere to be seen, but her concoctions burbled and bubbled quietly on overladen workbenches, so Saint thought she must not be too far away. She never was.

She didn't like to leave her father out of her sight for too long these days.

Neither did Saint.

Unconcerned with examining Eido's work too closely, Saint turned away from that patch of sunshine to the shadow in the corner, his eyes dimming.

Misraakskel sat slumped in his throne, arms folded tight around his carapace, head lowered, the lights of his helm dim as he slumbered. For a minute, Saint stands planted where he is, watching. Misraaks is shrinking, his armor loose on his body, his limbs slim. The seat of the great chair supporting him seems to swallow his body instead of surround it.

There is no ignoring that the Kell of the House of Light is ailing.

As Saint watches, Misraaks' head tosses, the Kell hissing audibly with a hard vent of Ether. His legs twitch, and the claws of his hands scrabble against the armor covering his thighs. He jerks, moaning. The shadows surrounding him have grown longer. Darker.

Saint knows the evil that haunts him.

Looking around and confirming they are alone, he strides across the room and right up the dias, squaring his shoulders as he walks.

"Leave him alone, you vile wretch," he hisses, his voice low. He is looking at Misraaks, but he is addressing someone - something - else. He knows what is there, even if he cannot see it, and he is not afraid. "You are not allowed power here this day. Be gone!" He reaches Misraaks, and a distinct chill, wet and slippery like an ice cube, slides right down his spine to settle uncomfortably low in his gut, but Saint ignores it.

"Misraakskel," he whispers, bending low over his friend. "You are strong. You are loved. And today, you are safe with the Saint." He bends at the waist and kisses the knuckles of one of Misraaks' hands gently.

The shadows seem to ease, and Misraaks heaves a sigh, his slumber becoming restful as soon as Saint touches him. 

Saint pulls back, surprised that was truly all it had taken, but then nods curtly to himself, satisfied with the results.

"Good," he murmurs to himself. "Then I will stay."

With that, he folds himself up at Misraaks' feet and settles down to stand guard for as long as it takes.

It was the least he could do, after all, after everything.

[alohastyles-x]

a holiday special - k.b.

Word count: 1.7k

warnings: gender neutral reader // fluff!!! pure fluff, mentions of kissing, but not super descriptive. mentions of holidays, implications of christmas but not mentioned specifically

note: A fun little holiday treat for all my Kate Bishop lovers out there! <3

Kate watched as the snow fell gingerly just past the window of her New York apartment. The glass of the window was fogged ever so slightly around the edges as the heat radiated through the small space. She was snuggled with a blanket on the sofa, a warm mug in hand. It was her favorite- the mug. One you had picked her up at a local farmers market back in the spring, a group of various flowers bundled together in the center. 

Coffee filled the brim of the mug that she sipped on, lost in her own thoughts. She was lucky- lucky to have you not just as her best friend, but as her partner. You were everything she never thought she needed until you not so gracefully came into her life. 

It was last fall, and the autumn winds had just begun making their way through the city. They were ravenous this year, blowing over anything light enough to be picked up- including the paper you were currently reading. You were featured on the cover of the niche newspaper for sealing the deal of a lifetime. It was a proud achievement- one you worked hard for, and you were eager to see how the journalist had painted your accomplishment. 

That is, until the wind came in, snagging the paper out of your hand. You had shrieked, taken aback by the sudden gust of wind. 

Chasing after the paper proved difficult, as you attempted to weave in and out of the crowd milling about the streets. Everytime you got close to snatching the paper back, it just as quickly flew away again. Frustration began boiling up as you debated if it was even worth chasing- you were sure you could track down another copy somewhere. 

You quickened your pace, a clear line forming in front of you to where the paper had settled on the sidewalk. This was it. The wind had subsided for a second, bringing a stillness with it that was promising. The paper rested, and you were a few seconds away from grabbing it… almost there … 

You collided with something hard, something sturdy… Did a brick wall come out of nowhere? You opened your eyes to see you had landed flat on your back, staring at the cloudy New York sky above you. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” A voice asked from beside you. It was soft and hurried, as if the person was panicking. 

It took you a minute to respond that you were okay, as you tried to sit up, or at the very least prop yourself up on your elbows. The paper was still in sight, a few feet away. 

“Oh, oh! Can you grab that for me?” You yelled, pointing to the paper. The person nodded, quickly going to grab it before the wind could catch it again. 

They brought it back, kneeling down to your level. You sat fully up, taking the paper from their extended hand. You looked up, locking eyes with a brilliant hue of an ocean blue. It was the color of the sea in the middle of a raging storm- dark with gray swirls. 

“Hi…” you said, breathlessly. The ocean storm eyes belonged to a beautiful girl with dark brown hair. She was slim, with a purple uniform on that you didn’t quite recognize. Was she some sort of LARPer? They were all over New York right now for a local ren faire. 

“Hi,” she responded, a dazzling smile lighting up her face. Good god, the universe has placed an angel before you. 

“A-are you okay? I totally didn’t see you, I was so locked in on chasing this stupid thing,” you ruffled the paper in your hand. 

“Yeah, I’m good, are you okay?” She asked, her eyes roaming over your body, assessing for any damage- almost as if she was trained to do just that. 

“Okay good. Yes, I’m fine. I’m Y/N, by the way,” you stuck your hand out, the business instincts taking over. Kate took your hand, shaking it firm yet delicately. 

“Kate,” the smile is back, taking over all of her features. 

“Kate! What are you doing? Let's go!” A male voice shouts from a distance. You look around her to see none other than Hawkeye, bow and arrow in hand, a slight trail of blood running down the side of his forehead. 

“I’m so sorry, I’ve got to go! I’m glad you’re okay though! Maybe we can hang out sometime, here… here's my number,” Kate proceeded to write a number down on your hand with a pen that somehow had rolled its way over to the two of you. The pen of fate, you had later called it. Kate jumped up, trailing after Hawkeye. 

“I’m home!” You shout, following the chaotic noises that surrounded you trying to enter the tiny apartment. Between your various work bags and the few groceries you had brought home, Kate was amazed you could even fit through the door. She glanced up from her place on the couch, assessing if you needed any help. 

You set the bags on the counter, sighing a sigh of relief of finally being in the warmth. 

“Hi,” Kate said softly, taking in your features. You were still just as beautiful as ever to her, the light creating a soft glow around you. She had a soft smile on her face, drinking in the sight before her. 

“Hi, love,” you responded, returning the warm smile. 

“Come here,” she nodded in her direction. Kate placed the mug down on the coffee table, careful not to spill any of its contents. You joined her on the couch, snuggling in her arms under the blanket draped across the two of you. 

“Everything okay?” You asked. 

“Yeah. I just reminisced about when we first met.”

“Oh god, Kate. That was so embarrassing!” You cringed at the thought of it. 

“It’s one of my favorite memories of you,” Kate responded, glancing down at you. Your heart warmed at the thought of her seeing you in your frenzied state and keeping it as her favorite memory.

“Really? That one?” 

“Yeah! I had never met someone so determined about getting a newspaper before.” The two of you giggled at the thought. 

“Do you know how hard it was to get my hands on that paper? I couldn’t just go to any news stand and grab another one. No, they were too busy covering you and the Avengers, not little old me sealing the deal on a business transaction!” You playfully defended yourself, settling deeper into the warmth of Kate. 

“It was cute, you were cute.” Kate reassured you, stroking your hair. You smiled, enjoying the security and the safety that Kate provided you. 

“Can we open our gifts early this year? I’m dying to give you what I got,” Kate pleaded. There were only a few days left to the holiday, and you were just as equally excited to give her your gift. 

“Okay, okay. Fine!” The two of you hopped off the couch and grabbed the presents you had set out next to the window, under a sad excuse for a holiday tree- it was literally just a branch the two of you had found on a stroll through a tree farm after you realized there was no way the two of you could actually tend to a real tree– and by then all the fake ones had been sold. 

Yours was wrapped in shiny silver paper, a bow delicately placed on top, whereas Kate’s was… well, it was wrapped, that’s for sure. You chuckled at the haphazard attempt, knowing it was the best she could do. 

“You first,” you thrust your gift into her hands, waiting impatiently for her to open it. She tore at the paper, and then at the box, her mouth dropping open at the sight. It was a new bow- one you consulted with the team of heroes to help make sure not to mess with Kate’s ability to be proficient in the field. It was a sleek metallic purple, with a black engraving on the back. 

World's Greatest Archer. 

“Oh my god!” Kate exclaimed, examining the bow and the engraved quote over and over. 

“This… wow! This is incredible! Thank you so much! God, it’s so beautiful!” Kate pulled you in for a hug, tugging you tight against her chest. You smiled, happy she liked it. 

“Okay, your turn.” This time a gift was thrusted into your hands. It was heavy, which made you confused. 

“It’s not much… nothing like a new bow, but I still hope you love it,” Kate said, hopeful. 

You tore at the paper, speechless at what laid beyond it. A glass frame, and inside was the newspaper of the day the two of you had met. The same newspaper of your article, securing your first deal that led you to become the business tycoon that you were now. On the bottom of the frame was a gold plaque, with an engraving similar to the one on Kate’s bow. 

The first day of the rest of my life.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you took in the sentimental value of the gift in your hands. This was a physical embodiment of the day the two of you had fallen in love, before you had even known what it was. The first day of the rest of your lives- truly. 

“Kate, I-” 

“It's okay, if you don’t like it, or if it’s cheesy,” Kate cut you off, beginning to ramble. She was nervous, trembling as you moved closer. 

You pulled her in for a kiss, cutting off her thoughts before they derailed any further. The kiss was soft and passionate, showing just how much you loved the gift. 

“I… love… it,” you said in between kisses. 

“I’m so glad,” she whispered back. 

You pulled back, smiling at her. Your best friend and the love of your life, bundled up in one package that you were lucky to have met on that fateful day. 

“Now, let’s get this cleaned up and order a pizza! I’m starving,” Kate exclaimed, grabbing the discarded wrapping paper on the floor.

[wisedelusionalmarshmallow]

@rosekillermicrofic, December 5th - Reveal, G, Word Count - 399

Arriving at his dorm, Evan found Barty curled up on his bed. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight; the boy quite often found comfort near Evan and his things. But today felt off. There was something different in the air. 

He gently sits on his bed, beside Barty, and curls up next to him. He can feel Barty’s heavy and laboured breathing. They were lying face to face, but Barty’s visage was hidden by his hair.

Evan pulls Barty’s hair back, revealing his teary eyes. That’s what was off. “Baby,” he coos, pushing his hands to the back of his neck, holding the crying boy closer to him. “What’s all this for, hmm?”

“N—no, I’m, I’m okay. Just give me—a second,” he evades, looking away from his boyfriend, handily coming up to quickly wipe the tears, hiding the evidence.

“Barty. Talk to me,” Evan presses, still cradling his head, forcing him to look forward.

A frustrated look comes over Barty’s face before he’s blubbering again, leaning into Evan’s touch. Hot tears roll down his face, absorbing into both of their shirts. Evan just gives him his time, lets him get it all out. Comforting hands rubbing up and down his back, trying to soothe the pain from his lover.

With Evan’s comforting, Barty calms down enough to start explaining the issue. “I just—I feel like I can’t do anything right. I feel like I should be doing more for people or my classes or—”

“Baby. Where’s this coming from?” Evan asks, shifting so that he’s closer to Barty. “You’re on track to get all outstandings again this year. You’ve got a lovely friend group; you have me. So why are you feeling this way?”

“I—I don’t know. I just—I feel comfortable. I feel happy, and every other time that’s happened, it’s been taken away from me. Is it bad to want to cling to that? I just want to do everything I can so I can have this forever,” Barty admits, looking down between the two of them.

The revelation broke Evan’s heart. Of course, he’s scared of good things. Well—scared of losing good things. He just wants control over his life, something he’s never been given before.

Tilting Barty’s head up again, the boys make eye contact. “I won’t let you lose this,” Evan whispers. And he means it. “Ever.”

Barty nods, swallowing the rest of his tears. “Okay.”

[independent-variables]

Thinking about canon Rex and fanon Rex. Specifically the whole fanon of "Rex was bullied by his batch because he was different and then adopted by Cody + Command batch."

Thinking about this because at the start of the war, Rex is very Conform Or Die in his mindset about being a clone and a solider. He takes pride in who he is and what he does, and takes a lot longer to push against the propaganda than, say, Fives and Echo, who very much did almost die for their failure to conform. So it makes sense for Rex to have learned the lesson of Conform Or Die and learned it well in his childhood. It make sense for Rex to have been someone who struggled to conform, who grew up terrified that one day he would slip up and that would be that, and it makes sense for his pride in his conformity to be also in some way relief. He succeeded. He proved himself. He lived, and advanced in the ranks enough to hold power over other lives.

Because the other thing is that Rex very much does value outside the box thinking. He values ingenuity on the battlefield. He knows even before he fully breaks free of "good soldiers follow orders" that the way you win isn't as important as the fact of victory. Nothing else matters but victory. Survival. He also knows that unity and conformity are connected. The clones must be unified to be able to fight effectively and if someone breaks free to do their own thing (hi Fives and Jesse and Hardcase) that break from conformity and the chain of command has an equal chance of being what saves them all or what damns them all. There is a fine line to walk between brilliance and defiance. So yeah I can see Rex as someone who struggled to conform, while also understanding in his bones that conformity was the only thing that would save him; the only thing that would win battles. His issue isn't so much accepting that all clones are capable of having their own opinions and preferences, but in accepting this as a good thing and not a fault or a failure.

So to bring this back to the fandom, my problem with most “Rex was bullied for being different” fic is that more often than not what Rex was bullied for is being A) blond or B) better at everything than everyone else or C) a combination of A and B. My issues with these aspect of the fanon are many and complex, but my biggest issues and the primary two that apply here are that, while standing out for objectively neutral yet attention grabbing or even "good" traits can indeed be hard in certain environments, 1) this doesn't make sense for Kamino and 2) it doesn't make sense for Rex.

Regarding 1: If the Kaminoans were really truly bothered by a clone being blond to the point it became A Thing that Rex had to overcome to prove himself, then he would not be alive. Simple as that. If they cared one way or another if a clone developed with blond hair they simply would have not allowed embryos with that gene to develop. The blond hair isn’t something that would only show later in life, after said blondie had already proven to have too much potential to kill. The blond would have been very evident in the early stages of development. The Kaminoans have the most advanced gene tech in the galaxy. They’re not just going to miss something like that.

Regarding 2: The kind of desperation it takes to internalize "no matter what you have to do, you must win" does not come from being good at winning. A fic in a different fandom had a little one-off line about how the difference between people born low class who rose to power and people born with power was evident in the care with which they conformed to protocol. Born nobles don’t have to worry about slipping up, because nobody is going to take away their power. They were born with it. But if it was earned, or given, it can be lost, or taken away. And I guess that really resonated in regards to Rex. Rex is a badass, but not effortlessly, he struggles to be ok with breaking protocol, and that says something about how and why he became a badass and what protocol means to him.

So, yeah. Rex my beloved. I can get behind Rex being bullied, I am always down for that kind of awfulness, and with some deeper analysis it has a lot of potential as a backstory for him.

[beddybites]

I'm so sorry about everything happening. I had logged in to see all that when I came to check on you after seeing a few of your posts on my fyp on tiktok. Cancer is awful. It's so sad that it happened to your elderly dog. I'm so sorry about not being able to get treatment because of his age, it's always hard losing a huge part of your life. Hope your doing okay, its always hard, and the worst part is having such a big part of your life taken away from you. I do hope everything is going atleast fine right now in your personal life, just remember you matter. You are stronger than you think. You can and have been handling this with much bravery. You can move forward no matter the issue and you have. You matter, and make sure to treat yourself like it to. Make sure your eating, sleeping, drinking water, being safe and overall taking care of yourself. I know everything might seem tough and I've been saying it a lot, but you do matter, and many people are here for you. Take all the time you need, take care of yourself because you've moved forward through many hard times in your life. If you need a break take one, you've helped all of us, and we want to be here for you as you've been for us. Like I said before, maybe I'm just a weirdo that cares too much, but I do care, and I'll be here among others.

Be safe, take care of yourself, eat, sleep, drink water, put yourself first this time,

-s.p./weirdo

(I came back! So glad I put in another in ur inbox! Always so scared too).

oh goodness thank you so much ;w;

im so sorry i dont have a lot of words (i admit im very very tired & also a bit high-- needed to take an edible so i could develop an appetite and eat, life hack!) so please have this smudge photo as thanks!

he says thank you for your kindness and support and that he hopes you have a wonderful week and such!!!

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

Everyone thinks it was Jack who asked Davey, but it was the other way around

Jack is a flirt but anything serious and he goes into full-on-crisis mode

Davey is like ok then let’s fUckin go. Do you like me? Amazing we’re dating now.

[teyrnacousland]

Thinking about post game Illario again and the mental state he must be in. He's literally lost everything.

Things will never be the same between him and Lucanis. Even if they do get better someday, they can never be the same.

He is never going to be First Talon now. He's actually gone down the ladder, which I don't think he even considered as a possibility, since he figured it was a success or death kind of deal. The man who loves being admired and adored now has to face a future full of disdain and hatred.

He has to watch Lucanis become First Talon. Something he wanted (needed). And worse, something he knows Lucanis doesn't want. He has to watch Lucanis continue to be suffocated under Caterina's grasp and the weight of her expectations until it kills him. He's back to having to watch and wait for Lucanis to die. He was able to justify killing Lucanis in part to prevent this exact fate and now he has even less power to stop it than he did before.

Where do you even go from there?

[ki1ldeer]

The inconveniences of your boyfriend being a… psychic? Budding demigod of fate? Eh

[talesfromawannabewriter]

@beef-brisket @fanofstuff01

(hope your both prepared for the angst feast I’ve prepared)

Adam shrugged and got back on the couch.

Adam: Suit yourself, so what exactly did you wish to talk about?

Lucifer: I think you know. Tell me right now what your plans are and maybe I’ll let you live.

Adam: The only plans I have is to stay far, far away from you and your daughter alright? I just want to live my life man.

Lucifer: Call me crazy but I don’t believe you. Especially after the shit you pulled with my own daughter!

Adam: Alright I’m man enough to admit that I fucked up, but it wasn’t as if I was going to hurt your precious baby I just wanted to scare her! To back off from this nonsense of redemption. From the likes of sinners!

Lucifer: HA! Well the jokes on you asshole redemption is possible! Right after your miserable attempt at an attack on us one of the sinners who was killed ended up being redeemed and sent to Heaven. I actually have to give my thanks for that since it was actually you who killed the guy and got him sent upstairs.

If Adam had heard about it when he first woke up here he would’ve pitched a fit. Screamed how it wasn’t fair that after everything he’s done for those ungrateful bastards. After all that he lost, all that was taken from him. It just wasn’t fair that he was sent down here while that slimy bitch got to live in the lap of luxury. However, Adam had changed.

He was still the same loud mouthed, foul dude with an attitude. He just sees things differently. All his existence he had done all that was asked from the angels. From all the angels. Where did that land him?

Here in the person he hated most kingdom. He learned to not see it in a bad light though. He eventually saw it as a ticket to a new life. A fresh start. So now at Lucifer’s revelation he gave a simple,

Adam: Good for him but where does that concern me?

Lucifer was stunned at that. He hoped to get a rise out of him.

Lucifer: Did…did you not hear me I said…

Adam: I heard you just fine your majesty. To put it simple I don’t give a flying fuck about what happened. I don’t give two shits about what your daughter does or what she does to sinners. I even stopped giving a damn about sinners all together. They live, they die, who cares? The point is Lucifer I’m moving on from my life and that includes the bullshit that put me through the wringer.

Lucifer: Oh? You were out through the wringer!? What about what I’ve been through!? What about poor Lilith!? And Eve! What about all the shit you put them through!? At least Lilith got away from your abuse but I feel sorry for your second wife who couldn’t get away from you!

Adam was silent for a moment until he felt something bubble up in his throat. He tried to contain it but couldn’t. It started out as a soft chuckle but grew louder and more intense with each second. Until Adam was full on laughing like a maniac. Lucifer stared on in stunned silence until he felt annoyance start to creep in.

Lucifer: What’s so funny!?

Adam: You, you, you actually still believe those fucking lies Lucifer!? After everything she put you through you still believe her when she cried victim!? News flash Luci all that bitch has ever done is li- AGHHH!!!

It happened so fast that he didn’t even see him. His back was thrusted against the wall as he felt his throat being squeezed painfully tight. Tears blurred his vision but he could see Lucifer’s demon form starting to pop out. If the pure red in his eyes were anything to go by.

Lucifer: Don’t you EVER in your pathetic existence even utter her name. Adam was starting get scared he could feel his head become fuzzy and the room felt like it was spinning. He knew the devil wouldn’t let him go until he showed him exactly what he was talking about. Lucifer wouldn’t listen to him? Fine! Then he would show him.

He managed to reach a shaking hand to his temple and tapped it hoping Lucifer would get the message.

Lucifer: What you calling me psycho, asshole

Adam tried shaking his head back and forth and tapped again. He kept tapping until finally Lucifer asked,

Lucifer: Wait, do you…want me to look into your head?

Adam: Me, me, mem…or…ies

Lucifer: Your memories?

Adam nodded violently. Glad that the idiot was finally getting it. Lucifer was confused as to why he wanted him to search his memories. Maybe he was allowing him to see his supposed “side” to the story. Like there was one.

He probably was just shitty to her and didn’t think he was being shitty. Still he let go of Adam only to immediately grab onto his head and go into his mind. Only to immediately regret it.

Adam watched as for the next few minutes Lucifer’s once proud smirk slowly melt away. Only to be replaced with one that Adam could only describe as shock mixed with horror and an even a tiny hint of regret. Once Lucifer was done he scattered away from Adam and turned to stare at his hands as if they were on fire. Slowly Adam stood up, albeit shakily, and said to him in a raspy voice,

Adam: At least now you know. If you don’t mind your majesty I would like you to leave. Immediately.

Lucifer looked at him as tears streaming down his face. Lucifer: Adam I, I didn’t know…

Adam: I said you need to leave

Lucifer: Just let me

Adam: Lucifer!

Lucifer: Adam I…

Adam: I SAID LEAVE!!!!!

Lucifer bowed his head in shame and in a smoke of red disappeared from his sight. Leaving no trace that the king was even here. Once he was sure that he was gone was limped over to the door, locked it, and immediately burst out sobbing. Letting out years of pent up emotion. Especially for his first love.

Succubus au

@beef-brisket

@fanofstuff01

(This au was originally on @things-aren't-what-they-seem66blog and was originally thought of by an anonymous ask)

The roaring of the crowd and the playing of his guitar deafened his ears but the incubus didn't care. He loved the way they cheered his name while he shredded on his axe. With one final strum, his song was done. He raised his arms and gave the horns, to which his fans reciprocated, and bid them all goodnight. He walked away his hands still raised until he was out of sight from them. Adam sighed heavily and wiped the sweat with his forearm as he made his way to his dressing room.

Once there he flopped onto the couch and groaned. Though Adam loved being a rockstar and having adoring fans, he wouldn't lie to himself, each performance, especially concerts, can be quite draining since he always had to prepare with mic checks and making sure he sounded right. Steve, his producer/manager/on-and-off-again fling, always assured him that these were mandatory. Just one of those sacrifices that come with being a star. Still, Adam felt a little like shit and he needed a drink, a hard one. Unfortunately, his evening wasn't quite over yet as knocking was heard from the other side of the door then a voice called out.

Assistant: Excuse me? Commander? I'm sorry for bothering you but I brought the VIP guests here with me.

Adam sighed completely forgetting about that. Almost all VIPs get access to meet him after every show. Though he loved his fans coming to him and saying how much they loved him, maybe even getting some head from the older crowd, tonight, he didn't want to. However, he knew that he didn't have much of a choice. Unless he wanted Steve up his ass, and not in a good way. Letting out a long groan he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and yelled out to her.

Adam: Bring them in.

He closed his eyes and sighed once again as he heard the door open and feet shuffle in. He prepared himself for the immediate responses of squealing and clamoring over to shake his hand. However, he was not prepared for a familiar voice to call out his name.

Charlie: A, Adam?

He opened his eyes and standing in front of him were Charlie, Vaggie, and a one-eyed sinner.

[nora-durst]

sorry i’m not done talking about chaos walking actually. i’m just thinking about todd hewitt as a ya sci-fi protagonist like you just open the book as a 12 year old or whatever and you’re like can’t wait to read about this young hero’s thrilling adventures on this far off planet! okay he’s illiterate. oh he’s mean to his dog. ok he self harms. oh now he’s committing a hate crime. and that’s like. before we even get to book two and the whole complicit in a genocidal regime situation. todd hewitt the character that you are 🫶