#knowing that they can act basically free from lasting consequence

[touchlikethesun]

okay so. don’t crucify me. but su she and jin guangyao do actually make some pretty compelling points.

[hockeyluvrr]

BLENDER || lh43

MAIN MASTERLIST

summary: Love was never the problem-but distance, doubt, and heartbreak were. You tried to hold on. So did he. But when love stops being enough, what's left?

based on the song BLENDER by 5SOS

warnings: arguments, emotional tension, swearing, miscommunication, jealousy, confrontation, desperation, uncertainty, breaking up, heartbreak, emotional limbo, unresolved feelings, basically all the basic angst stuff lol

notes: holy shit, this came out of nowhere ngl... this is my longest fic yet and I love it so much. shoutout to my 5sos girlies, this is for you (mostly me though 🤭)

word count: 6,410

The fight had been over for an hour, but your phone was still buzzing.

LUKE: can you just pick up?

LUKE: i don’t want to end the night like this.

LUKE: please.

You stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the notification. Your body still felt tight, wound up from everything you’d just screamed at each other. The distance was getting to both of you. Maybe it had been from the start.

This was supposed to be easy. A summer fling that accidentally turned into more.

You met Luke last July, when the air was thick with humidity and the nights bled into each other without much consequence. You didn’t think twice when it started—just a guy and a girl caught up in something fun, something fleeting.

But then August came, and instead of ending things, you found yourself tangled in his sheets, whispering promises neither of you had planned to make.

So now, months later, you were here—staring at his name on your phone, wondering if loving someone like this was supposed to feel like free-falling with no parachute.

Another buzz.

LUKE: i’m calling.

The screen lit up with his name, and you swore under your breath before finally answering.

“What?”

A beat of silence. Then, his voice—tired, frustrated, but still laced with something soft. “You actually picked up.”

“I figured you weren’t gonna stop until I did,” you muttered, shifting in bed. Your voice came out flat, but you weren’t sure how else to talk to him when your heart was still beating too fast from the argument.

Luke exhaled sharply. “I don’t get why you’re acting like I don’t care.”

“You don’t get it because you’re never here.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and aching.

His silence was louder than the words themselves.

“Y/N…” He sounded exhausted. “You know I can’t just—”

“I know, Luke,” you cut in. “I know you have a career. I know you can’t just drop everything for me. But I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one trying.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” You sat up, gripping your blanket. “I call. I text. I make time. But when was the last time you put in the effort? When was the last time you planned something instead of just squeezing me in when it was convenient?”

His breath hitched, like he wanted to argue but didn’t have the words.

The silence stretched.

You should’ve let it sit. Let him stew in it. But instead, your voice broke when you whispered, “Do you even miss me, Luke?”

The question must’ve hit him harder than anything else, because when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “Are you serious?”

You didn’t answer. You weren’t sure you could.

“Of course I fucking miss you,” he snapped. “Every damn day. But I can’t just—” He cut himself off, cursing under his breath. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. I can’t fix the distance. I can’t fix my schedule. I can’t—”

“I don’t want you to fix it,” you admitted, voice cracking. “I just want to matter enough for you to try.”

The silence came back, heavier than before.

You closed your eyes. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Wait—”

“I need space, Luke.” Your throat tightened. “Just… goodnight.”

Then, before he could say anything else, you hung up.

You threw your phone onto the nightstand and curled up into yourself, letting the weight of it all crash down.

Outside, the city lights flickered through your window, but they didn’t feel warm. Not tonight.

Not when you weren’t sure if this was just another fight—

Or the beginning of the end.

———

You didn’t sleep.

Not really, anyway. You drifted in and out, your mind replaying every second of last night’s fight, twisting his words in a way that left a hollow ache in your chest.

By the time morning rolled around, your phone was still dark. No texts. No missed calls.

Luke had listened when you said you needed space.

You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or worse.

With a deep sigh, you pushed the blankets off and sat up, rubbing your hands over your face. The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional hum of traffic outside. It felt unnatural, like the silence had taken up permanent residence in your head, stretching far beyond last night.

You hated how much you missed him.

Even now, your body was wired to check your phone first thing in the morning, waiting for one of his lazy, half-awake messages. Morning, pretty girl. Wish you were here. Call me when you wake up.

But today, there was nothing.

It shouldn’t have surprised you. You were the one who ended the call. You were the one who asked for space.

So why did it feel like he was the one pulling away?

With a groan, you flopped back onto the pillows and stared at the ceiling, replaying the fight in your head. Maybe you’d overreacted. Maybe you should’ve let him explain instead of throwing accusations like knives. You knew his schedule was hell. You knew long distance wasn’t easy.

But at the same time… when was the last time he really made you feel like a priority?

Before you could spiral any further, your phone buzzed.

Your heart jumped.

But when you grabbed it, the screen didn’t show Luke’s name.

It was your best friend, Riley.

RILEY: u up? brunch. now. no excuses.

You hesitated. Normally, you’d decline, opting to stay curled up in your thoughts. But today, with the weight of last night still pressing on your chest, you needed the distraction.

YOU: be there in 20.

—

The café was small and familiar, the kind of place you and Riley had claimed as your own years ago. The smell of coffee and syrup hung thick in the air, and the morning crowd buzzed around you.

Riley spotted you before you even reached the table. “Oh, yeah. You look rough.”

You rolled your eyes as you dropped into the seat across from her. “Thanks.”

She pushed a mimosa toward you. “Drink. Then talk.”

You didn’t argue. One sip turned into two, and before you knew it, you were spilling everything—how Luke had called, how you fought, how you hung up first. How he hadn’t texted since.

Riley frowned. “So you told him you needed space, and now you’re mad that he’s giving it to you?”

You groaned, slumping in your seat. “Not when you say it like that.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to say it?” She arched a brow. “Did you expect him to blow up your phone? Show up at your door?”

You hated that you didn’t have a good answer.

Riley sighed, softer this time. “I get it, babe. I do. Long distance sucks. And I know you’re tired of feeling like you’re the only one putting in the effort. But you guys love each other, right?”

Your stomach twisted. Love.

Neither of you had said it yet.

Riley noticed your silence and leaned forward. “Wait. Have you guys even talked about—?”

“No,” you cut in quickly, suddenly regretting this conversation. “It’s not like that.”

She gave you a knowing look but didn’t push. “Okay. So what is it like?”

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “It’s…” You struggled for the right words. “It’s messy. It’s intense. It’s too much but never enough at the same time.”

Riley nodded like she understood, even though you weren’t sure you did.

For a second, neither of you spoke. Then, she reached for her phone.

“What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer right away. Then, with a pointed look, she turned the screen toward you.

Luke’s latest Instagram post stared back at you.

Your chest tightened.

It was a photo of him at practice, mid-laugh, sweaty and effortless in a way that made your heart ache. The caption was simple. Back at it.

Nothing dramatic. Nothing emotional.

But all the comments blurred together in your head. Can’t wait to watch you this season! Missed you on the ice! Looking good, Hughesy!

It was a reminder that, while you were sitting here overthinking everything, Luke was out there living.

Like last night never happened.

Like you didn’t happen.

You swallowed hard. “So what? He’s just… moving on?”

Riley gave you a sympathetic look. “Or maybe he’s just waiting. For you to reach out first.”

You stared at the screen, your stomach twisting into knots.

Maybe she was right. Maybe you should text him.

Or maybe the cracks were already too deep to fix.

———

It had been three days.

Three days since the fight. Three days since you hung up on Luke. Three days of absolute silence.

You told yourself you wouldn’t be the one to break first. If he cared, he’d reach out. If he wanted this to work, he’d try.

But every hour that passed without his name lighting up your phone chipped away at your resolve.

You were starting to wonder if maybe this was how it ended—not with a dramatic goodbye, but with a slow, suffocating silence that swallowed you whole.

And yet, even with the weight of it pressing down on your chest, you still couldn’t bring yourself to text him first.

Instead, you did the worst possible thing.

You checked social media.

Luke wasn’t the type to post often, but his teammates were. And there he was—in a video on Jack’s story, laughing in the background, surrounded by friends, a drink in hand like the last three days hadn’t meant anything to him.

You stared at the screen, your grip tightening on your phone.

Maybe this was stupid. Maybe you were reading too much into it.

But the longer you watched, the worse it got.

Because then she appeared.

A girl you didn’t recognise—blonde, wearing a Devils jersey far too oversized to be her own—sidling up next to Luke, whispering something in his ear. He didn’t move away. Didn’t look uncomfortable. Just smirked, shaking his head at whatever she said before taking another sip of his drink.

Your stomach twisted.

The worst part wasn’t the fact that she was there. It wasn’t even the fact that Luke didn’t seem to mind.

It was the fact that, for the first time since you met him, you had no idea where you stood.

You weren’t his girlfriend, not officially.

Not really.

Because when the summer ended, neither of you had wanted to put a label on it. You told yourselves it was easier that way—no pressure, no expectations, just whatever this was.

But now, as you watched him on that screen, looking so effortlessly unbothered, it hit you like a fucking freight train.

Maybe you’d been wrong.

Maybe you weren’t something worth holding on to.

The buzzing in your head was so loud that you almost didn’t hear Riley calling your name.

You blinked, barely processing that she was standing in the doorway of your apartment. “Are you even listening?”

You swallowed hard, locking your phone before she could see the screen. “What?”

She sighed, stepping inside and dropping onto your couch. “I said we’re going out tonight. You need a distraction.”

“I don’t need a distraction,” you muttered, even as you stared blankly at the wall.

Riley rolled her eyes. “Okay, so what? You’re just gonna sit here all night, refreshing Instagram like a psycho?”

Your silence must have been answer enough.

She groaned. “Y/N. Come on. I love you, but this? This isn’t healthy. You don’t even know what’s going on.”

You clenched your jaw. “I know enough.”

She gave you a long look, then sighed. “Fine. If you’re not gonna let it go, then at least don’t let him be the only one having fun tonight.”

You hesitated.

Riley saw the crack in your resolve and jumped on it. “Just a couple drinks. That’s all I’m asking.”

You weren’t sure why you agreed. Maybe it was the fact that you’d barely left your apartment in days. Maybe it was the need to feel something—anything—other than this ache in your chest.

Or maybe, deep down, it was the smallest, most pathetic part of you that wanted Luke to see you moving on, too.

———

The bar was packed. Music pulsed through the speakers, and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol and too many bodies crammed into one space.

It should’ve felt suffocating.

But instead, with a drink in your hand and Riley’s laughter ringing in your ears, you almost managed to forget.

Almost.

At least, until your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You knew who it was before you even checked.

LUKE: are you out?

Your heart nearly stopped. After three days of nothing, this was how he chose to reach out? Not an apology. Not an explanation. Just that.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and typed back before you could think better of it.

YOU: why do you care?

His response was instant.

LUKE: where are you?

You stared at the message, pulse pounding in your ears.

He had no right to be asking that. Not after ignoring you. Not after letting you sit with the weight of this fight while he went out, acting like he didn’t care.

So instead of answering, you did the stupidest thing possible.

You let some guy buy you another drink.

You didn’t know his name. Didn’t care. He was tall, attractive, and most importantly—he wasn’t Luke.

And if you felt the burn of guilt in your chest when he leaned in closer, when his fingers brushed against yours. You shouldn’t even feel guilty, right? Luke’s been doing the same thing.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Until your phone buzzed again.

LUKE: Y/N.

One words. Your name. That’s all it took to make your breath hitch.

Because suddenly, it wasn’t just a fight. It wasn’t just a rough patch.

This was a game.

———

The tension had been simmering all night.

It started with Luke’s text. One simple word that crawled under your skin, wrapping around your ribs like a vice. But what pissed you off the most wasn’t the message itself.

It was the fact that he suddenly cared.

After three days of silence. After her in his Instagram story. After making you feel like you were the only one suffering through this distance.

And now, here he was, acting like he had a say in what you did.

So you ignored the text.

And maybe you let that guy keep flirting with you a little longer than you should have. Maybe you let his hand linger at the small of your back when he leaned in to talk. Maybe you even laughed a little louder, tilted your chin just enough that if Luke somehow saw—if he was watching—he’d know exactly what you were doing.

It was petty. It was reckless.

But so was loving someone who could make you feel this small.

The tension cracked the second you stepped outside the bar.

Luke was waiting.

You nearly tripped when you saw him, heart slamming against your ribs. He was standing near the curb, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like he was trying to grind his teeth into dust.

Your stomach flipped. He was here. He actually came.

But you weren’t sure if that made things better or worse.

His eyes locked onto you immediately, flickering down to the guy who had followed you out. And in that moment, the simmering tension didn’t just build. It exploded.

“The fuck is this?” Luke’s voice was low, controlled—but you knew him well enough to hear the storm brewing beneath it.

You blinked, still caught off guard by the fact that he was here. “What?”

Luke’s jaw tightened. “Who the hell is he?”

The guy next to you—God, you didn’t even remember his name—shifted awkwardly. “Uh—”

“Not your business, Hughes,” you cut in before he could finish.

Luke’s eyes snapped back to you. “Not my business?”

“You heard me.” Your pulse was pounding, but you forced yourself to hold your ground. “You don’t get to disappear for three days and then show up acting like you have any right to be pissed.”

Luke let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “That’s funny, because I could say the same thing. You tell me you need space, ignore me for days, and then I see you all over some guy?”

“I ignored you?” You scoffed, anger bubbling to the surface. “That’s rich, Luke. Where the hell were you? Oh, right—too busy playing NHL golden boy, letting some random girl hang off you—”

“What girl?”

The fact that he had the audacity to act confused made your blood boil. “Don’t play dumb.” You crossed your arms, nails digging into your skin. “The blonde. The one in your jersey.”

Luke stared at you for a moment, then let out another disbelieving laugh. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“She’s Jack’s friend. She was at the game. I barely talked to her.” He shook his head, eyes dark with frustration. “Jesus, Y/N. You saw a story and what—just assumed the worst?”

You hated the way your stomach twisted at that.

Because maybe—just maybe—he was right. Maybe you had let jealousy cloud your judgment. Maybe you had let the silence between you turn into something uglier than it was ever meant to be.

But that didn’t change the fact that this wasn’t just about her.

It was about everything.

The late-night calls that were always cut short. The weeks without seeing each other. The way it felt like you were constantly reaching for him while he was always a step too far away.

“You let me assume the worst,” you muttered, voice shaking despite yourself. “Because you never do anything to prove me wrong.”

Luke’s expression flickered—just for a second. And in that second, you saw it. The guilt.

But then, just as quickly, it was gone.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” His voice was quieter now, raw around the edges. “That I wish I could be around more? That I fucking hate the distance just as much as you do?” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You act like this is easy for me. Like I don’t miss you every goddamn day.”

Your throat tightened. “Then why don’t you act like it?”

He stared at you, breathing hard, like he was trying to find the right words—but they never came.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

There was always so much left unsaid.

Neither of you spoke. The tension that had been simmering all night was now crackling in the air between you, but this time, there was nowhere left for it to go.

The guy you had walked out with cleared his throat. “Uh—”

Luke’s head snapped toward him. “Leave.”

“Luke—”

“No, it’s fine.” The guy held up his hands, clearly deciding that whatever this was, it wasn’t worth the drama. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You didn’t watch him leave. You didn’t even care.

Because all of your attention was on Luke.

On the way his shoulders were tense, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes locked onto yours like this was some kind of battle neither of you knew how to win.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you exhaled. “So what now?”

Luke hesitated.

And that hesitation—that tiny moment of uncertainty—made something inside you crack.

Because if he didn’t know, then maybe you already did.

Maybe you’d known for a while.

Maybe you just hadn’t wanted to say it out loud.

You swallowed hard. “I can’t keep doing this, Luke.”

His face fell.

You regretted the words the second they left your mouth.

I can’t keep doing this, Luke.

Because now they were out there, hanging heavy in the space between you, and you couldn’t take them back.

Luke’s face twisted, like the weight of them had hit him straight in the chest. He shifted slightly, like he wanted to move closer but didn’t know if he was still allowed to. “You don’t mean that.”

Your throat tightened. Didn’t you?

“I don’t know,” you whispered, voice barely audible over the hum of the city around you. “I don’t know what I mean anymore.”

That seemed to snap something in him. His jaw clenched, frustration bleeding into his voice. “So what? You just want to walk away?”

Your stomach twisted. That wasn’t what you wanted—not really. But maybe it would be easier. Maybe it would hurt less than this constant, suffocating ache in your chest.

“I don’t want to,” you admitted, voice cracking. “But, Luke… I don’t know how to keep this from falling apart.”

He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “Then we figure it out.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “And how do we do that? Because I’m fucking exhausted. I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one fighting for this.”

That made something flicker in his expression—something wounded. “That’s not fair.”

You scoffed. “Isn’t it?”

His eyes darkened. “You think I don’t fight for this? You think I don’t want to be with you?”

“I think you want me when it’s convenient.” The words came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t take them back. “When you have time. When it doesn’t get in the way of your schedule.”

Luke took a step closer, shaking his head. “That’s bullshit.”

“Is it?” You could feel your control slipping, the frustration bubbling over. “Because I spend every day waiting for you to call, waiting for you to show up—and half the time, I’m left wondering if you even remember I exist.”

Luke’s brows furrowed, his expression torn between anger and something softer, something that looked like guilt.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, voice tight. “You have no fucking clue how hard this is for me too.”

“Then tell me.” Your voice cracked, raw and desperate. “Because all I know is that I feel like I’m constantly reaching for you, and you’re never there.”

Luke let out a frustrated breath, his hands flexing like he didn’t know what to do with them. “I don’t know how to do this, okay? I don’t know how to give you everything you deserve while I’m a thousand miles away.”

Your chest ached at the confession, at the vulnerability underneath the frustration. But it didn’t change anything.

“I’m not asking for everything, Luke.” Your voice softened just slightly. “I’m just asking for something.”

Luke shook his head, exhaling sharply. “I—fuck.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, like he was trying to pull himself together. “I don’t know how to fix this, but I can’t lose you.”

Your heart clenched.

Because that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Neither of you knew how to fix it. But neither of you could bear the thought of letting go.

Luke’s gaze searched yours, desperate and pleading. “Tell me what to do.”

Your throat felt tight. “I don’t have the answer.”

For a second, neither of you spoke. The tension was suffocating, your emotions teetering on a knife’s edge.

Then, suddenly, Luke moved.

He reached for you like it was instinct, his hands cupping your face, his forehead pressing against yours. His breath was shaky, his grip almost too tight—like he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers.

“I love you.” The words were barely above a whisper, but they hit you like a punch to the chest.

Your breath hitched.

Because he’d never said it before. Neither of you had.

You felt your resolve cracking, splintering under the weight of those three words.

But love wasn’t always enough.

And as much as you wanted to believe this was the turning point—the moment everything changed—you weren’t sure if this was a beginning or just the messiest part of the end.

Because Luke had never said those words before.

And you’d spent so long wondering if he ever would—if he ever could.

Now, here they were, hanging in the air between you like a lifeline you weren’t sure you could reach for.

I love you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the way his hands trembled against your skin. He was holding you so tightly, like he thought you might slip through his fingers if he let go.

And maybe he was right.

Because as much as you wanted to say it back—as much as you felt it—you weren’t sure love was enough to fix this.

Your throat felt tight. “Luke…”

He shook his head quickly, like he already knew what you were going to say. “Don’t. Just—don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

Your heart twisted. “I do mean it.”

Luke’s breath hitched, but before he could say anything, you continued.

“I love you, Luke.” The words tasted like the truth, and you hated how much it hurt to say them. “But I don’t know if that changes anything.”

Luke exhaled sharply, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were desperate, searching. “Of course it changes things.”

You swallowed hard. “Does it?”

He blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to ask that. “It has to.”

Your chest ached. Because you wanted to believe that. You wanted to believe that loving each other was enough to make the distance bearable, to make the jealousy fade, to make the ache in your chest disappear every time he left.

But love wasn’t a bandage. It didn’t erase the late nights spent staring at your phone, wondering if he’d call. It didn’t undo the fights, the silences, the way you felt like you were constantly fighting a battle you didn’t know how to win.

Luke must have seen the hesitation on your face because his grip tightened. “Y/N, I need you to tell me what to do here.” His voice was quiet, but it was raw, edged with frustration and fear. “Because I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t know how to make this work.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know either.”

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Neither of you had the answers.

You loved him, and he loved you. But love alone wasn’t fixing anything.

Luke clenched his jaw. “So what? We just give up?”

You inhaled sharply. “I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t,” he pleaded. “Stay.”

Your heart cracked straight down the middle.

Because God, you wanted to stay. You wanted to hold onto him and pretend like love was enough. You wanted to ignore the distance, the fights, the uncertainty.

But how much longer could you keep pretending that love was enough to stop this from falling apart?

Tears burned at the back of your eyes. “Luke, I don’t know how to keep doing this.”

His expression twisted, something breaking in his gaze.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment.

The silence felt heavier than ever before. Stretching between you, thick and suffocating.

Luke’s hands were still on you, but his grip had loosened—like he knew, deep down, that he couldn’t hold on forever.

But neither of you were ready to say it out loud.

Not yet.

“I can do better,” he said suddenly, voice hoarse. “I’ll—fuck, I’ll make more time. I’ll fly out every chance I get. I’ll call more. Whatever you need.”

Your chest ached at the desperation in his voice.

Because he meant it. You knew he did.

But the problem was never him meaning it.

The problem was reality—the way life always seemed to get in the way, no matter how much either of you wanted to pretend otherwise.

You swallowed hard. “Luke…”

“Just give me a chance,” he pleaded. “One more chance to make this work.”

You hated how badly you wanted to say yes.

Because you did. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that one more try would be enough. That if you just held on a little longer, fought a little harder, things would get easier.

But history had already proven otherwise.

Still, when you looked at him—at the raw emotion in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were slipping through his fingers—you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

Not yet.

You exhaled shakily. “Okay.”

Luke’s shoulders sagged with relief, and before you could second-guess it, he was pulling you against him. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his face buried in your hair, like he was trying to memorise the feel of you against him.

“I love you,” he murmured again, like saying it enough times would make everything okay.

You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the back of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

And you did.

But deep down, you had a sinking feeling that love wouldn’t be enough to save you.

Not this time.

———

You should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

For a little while, it almost felt like things were okay. Luke called more, sent you stupid texts throughout the day, made an effort to remind you that he wanted this, that he wanted you.

And maybe that should’ve been enough.

But it wasn’t.

Because even when he was trying—when he was doing everything he promised he would—the ache in your chest never really went away.

It wasn’t just the distance. It was the exhaustion. The weight of trying so hard, only to feel like you were running in circles.

Like you were holding onto something that was already slipping through the cracks.

And now, standing in his apartment, you felt the final thread start to snap.

Luke was frustrated. You could see it in the way he raked a hand through his hair, in the way his jaw kept clenching like he was trying to hold something back.

“Jesus, Y/N, what else do you want me to do?” His voice wasn’t raised, but it was edged with something sharp, something tired. “I’m trying. I’m here. What more do you want?”

You exhaled shakily, heart pounding against your ribs. “I don’t know.”

Luke let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You have to know. Because I can’t keep guessing what’s going to make you happy.”

Your stomach twisted. “This isn’t just about me.”

“No? Because it sure as hell feels like I’m the only one bending over backward to make this work.”

That stung.

Because you had been trying. You had been fighting for this.

But maybe that was the difference.

Luke thought fixing this was about doing things—calling more, texting more, showing up when he could. And sure, those things mattered. But that wasn’t what was breaking you.

It was everything in between.

The distance that couldn’t be closed by a few extra phone calls. The silence that still felt heavy, even when you were together. The way you still felt alone, even in the moments he was right in front of you.

It wasn’t about effort anymore. It was about the fact that maybe—just maybe—you weren’t supposed to keep fighting for something that hurt this much.

Your throat felt tight. “I don’t think we can fix this.”

Luke froze.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then, his expression hardened. “So that’s it?”

Your chest ached. “Luke—”

“No, seriously. That’s it?” He let out a sharp breath, stepping back like he couldn’t stand being this close to you anymore. “We hit a rough patch, and you just decide it’s not worth it?”

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “This isn’t just a rough patch.” Your voice wavered. “We’ve been fighting for months. We keep trying, and it’s not working.”

Luke shook his head, eyes dark with frustration. “No. You keep doubting us. You keep looking for an excuse to leave.”

That felt like a slap.

“Do you think this is easy for me?” Your voice cracked. “Do you think I want to feel like this? To feel like I’m constantly begging for something that’s never enough?”

Luke’s expression flickered—like maybe, just maybe, he finally saw how much this had been hurting you.

But the worst part?

You knew it was hurting him too.

That was what made this so fucking unbearable.

Because this wasn’t about not loving each other.

It was about the fact that love had stopped being enough.

Luke’s hands flexed at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he should. His voice was quieter when he spoke again, but it still felt like a punch to the gut.

“You really want to do this?”

No.

God, no.

But what choice did you have?

Your chest felt like it was caving in, but you forced yourself to nod. “Yeah.”

Luke inhaled sharply, like he’d been punched.

And just like that, it was over.

The fight drained out of him all at once. His shoulders slumped, his eyes flickering toward the floor. “Okay.”

You weren’t sure which hurt more—the frustration, the fighting, or this.

The emptiness.

The realisation that there was nothing left to say.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I should go.”

Luke didn’t stop you.

And somehow, that was the worst part of all.

———

The apartment felt too quiet.

Your suitcase sat half-open by the door, clothes spilling out of it. You hadn’t unpacked since you got back a week ago, pathetically trying to cling onto something you weren’t ready to let go of.

But what was left to stay for?

Your hands shook as you opened it further, starting to finally unpack. Your chest felt hollow, like the fight had carved out a part of you that you weren’t sure would ever feel whole again.

You had been the one to walk away.

So why did it feel like you had just lost everything?

You had told yourself that this was the right decision. That love—no matter how deep, no matter how real—wasn’t always enough. That some things just didn’t work, no matter how badly you wanted them to.

But God, it hurt.

Your phone sat on the bedside table, untouched since you got back to your apartment.

Luke hadn’t called.

And you weren’t sure what hurt more—the idea that he was too angry to reach out, or the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he had already accepted this.

That he was ready to let you go.

You weren’t sure you were ready to let go of him.

But you had already done the hardest part. You had walked out of his apartment, out of his life.

Now, you just had to figure out how to live with it.

———

The silence in the apartment was unbearable.

Luke had never noticed how loud it was when you were here—the hum of your voice on the phone, the sound of your laugh echoing from the other room, the way you always seemed to fill the space in a way he never had.

Now, it was just quiet.

And he fucking hated it.

His hands flexed at his sides as he paced the living room, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.

You were gone.

And it wasn’t a stupid fight. It wasn’t a rough patch.

This time, you weren’t coming back.

Luke had thought about calling you. Had stared at his phone for so long that his vision blurred, the screen taunting him with your name.

But what would he even say?

That he was sorry? That he still loved you? That he wanted to take it all back, but he knew deep down that nothing had changed?

That no matter how much he wanted to fix this, some things just weren’t meant to be fixed?

Luke sat down heavily on the couch, staring at the door like he half expected you to walk back in.

But you wouldn’t.

And he wasn’t sure how to live with that.

———

Time was supposed to make this easier.

That’s what everyone told you. That eventually, the ache in your chest would dull, and one day you’d wake up without the weight of him pressing against your ribs.

But weeks had passed. Then months.

And Luke still felt like a ghost in your life.

He was everywhere and nowhere all at once. In the song that played in the coffee shop, in the hoodie still shoved in the back of your closet because you couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away. In the fleeting moments when you reached for your phone before remembering that he wasn’t yours to call anymore.

You had moved on, technically. You did all the things you were supposed to do—went out with friends, filled your days with distractions, pretended like the hole in your chest wasn’t still there.

But every time you saw his name in a headline, every time you heard his voice in an interview, it hit you like a punch to the gut.

Because you still missed him.

And no matter how much time passed, you weren’t sure you’d ever stop.

———

He didn’t talk about you.

Not to his teammates, not to his family, not even when Jack asked in that quiet, careful way that made Luke’s jaw tighten.

Because if he didn’t talk about you, maybe he could pretend like he wasn’t still thinking about you.

Like he didn’t check his phone some nights, scrolling mindlessly, hoping to see your name somewhere even though he knew he wouldn’t.

Like he didn’t still hear your voice in the back of his head sometimes, teasing him, laughing, telling him you loved him.

It was pathetic, probably. Holding onto something that was already gone.

But Luke had never been good at letting go.

He threw himself into hockey. Into practices, games, anything that kept him too exhausted to think about the way his apartment still felt empty without you.

But some nights, when the adrenaline faded and the silence crept in, he wondered.

If you still thought about him. If you still missed him the way he missed you.

If this was really over.

Or if maybe, just maybe, it never really would be.

[corvusalbus93]

Astarion & the Consequences of Good Deeds

So, I did the “Stop the Presses” the other day and for those, who haven’t done it, because I missed it in my first playthrough, basically you have to stop the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette from printing a hit piece against the party. You can trigger the quest by talking to reporters Lens or Estra Stir and it becomes time-sensitive after talking to Ettvard Needle in the Baldur’s Mouth (aka article is printed after next long rest).

Since you get kicked out of the building I naturally I completed the quest with Astarion, as he’s the best for sneaking through that building undetected. So, I snuck through, found a new printing block to replace the hit piece with and made it to the printer.

As it turns out, the thing is operated by the fairy Jelliwig, who recognized Astarion (and would have probably any of any party), because Dolly Dolly Dolly had been freed in Act 2. In my playthrough this too had been done by Astarion, since his Sleight of Hand-skills had made this very easy (also no disapproval, when he does it).

Apparently Dolly can’t shut up about him and so, as a result of that action in Act 2, Jelliwig offers to drop the hit piece and print a different story. If you haven’t freed Dolly you need to pass some dialogue/skill checks.

Printing Press: Oi! Gormless! Over here. Thought I recognised you. Dolly Dolly Dolly was right – you aren’t much of a looker. Printing Press: Dolly can’t stop talking about you. Hero this, hero that, hero here, hero there. Hello, hero. Printing Press: You know, there’s some absolute filth about you in tomorrow’s edition. Seeing as you were king enough to free Dolly, how’s about I do you a favour? Printing Press: Why don’t we change the headline? We can load up something a bit less... damaging for your reputation?

So, where am I getting with all this?

Well, as we learn more about Astarion’s backstory, we find out he was often punished and tortured by Cazador. The worst of it he suffered after committing a morally good deed, saving that boy he just couldn’t bring to his master. And even early in Act 1, he sees Wyll too getting punished for sparing Karlach and he doesn’t seem exactly surprised.

If the last 200 years have taught him anything (among others), is that people with power can do whatever they want, unpunished, and no good deed goes unpunished. That is part of the worldview he has when we meet him. It’s not surprising he sees no merit in helping anyone throughout most of the game, with a few exceptions.

But as time progresses, the party helps more people things start to change. The people repay the party with gear, supplies, information, ect. - Dammon even fixed Karlach’s engine as well as he can for free. And in the end, when everyone gathered at the High Hall, in a good-aligned playthrough, the room is crowded with people you’ve helped since Act 1. As players we too notice how the game is easier, when you make allies, and the characters in game would take note of the help they receive as well.

When Astarion first receives thanks from the tieflings for killing the goblin leaders he’s dismissive, but in Act 2, when he says he’s never pictured himself as a banisher of shadows, he smiles. The role is growing on him, little by little.

Then in continuities like mine, Astarion experiences the results of good deeds in at least one very direct example, as it pays off not just immediately (Dolly blessing the party to resist the curse), but unexpectedly later on (Jelliwig doing him a good deed in turn unprompted).

Sure, sometimes doing the “right” things is punished or makes things more difficult, but I think for his character development it was also important to relearn that good deeds sometimes do pay off, can be rewarding in various ways – not just in terms of material gain but in gaining trust, respect, allies, even friends:

Post refusing the rite: Wyll: Astarion showed restraint where most others wouldn’t. He might not appreciate the sentiment – but I’m proud of him. Lae’zel: To seek power for personal glory alone is a farce Astarion was wise to see it. Karlach: He’d hate to hear me say this, but I’m so fucking proud of Astarion. He could’ve had it all, but he kept his soul instead. Wasn’t sure he had it in him, but he’s changed so much. Overcome so much darkness. Ooh, I could smooch that pointy little face!

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Forsaking All Others II

Part 12 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series!

Warnings: Kidnapping, TW: claustrophobia, restraints, gunfire, offscreen violence, blood, murder, smut, biting, a little bit of rough play.

A/N: woof

It takes a moment for your mind to catch up to what’s going on. 

You’d just been tossed into the trunk of a car, the darkness almost too suffocating.

Your brain spins slowly, reaching down, you fight your dress to tug off your heels, placing them beside you to use as weapons the next time the trunk opens.

The small dark space starts getting to you, and you’re forced to close your eyes and imagine that you’re in an open area, when you’re really not.

You know that you have to act quickly, tugging at the lining of the trunk, searching for the spot behind the brake light so that you can signal for help, but in the stifling dark, it's hard to see anything and you have no idea what you're looking for.

You pause, wondering if this car had a lever to release the door from the inside, and you begin searching for that instead, fingers skittering blindly for something you weren't familiar with.

You keep trying to imagine you're anywhere else but where you are, that you're just under the covers, or you're in your living room and the lights have just gone out, that you're under your sheets, waiting for Billy to come find you.

All of it helps keep you calm, stops the mindless panic from setting in, you know if you think too much about where you are, you'd hyperventilate, pass out, and who knows how long you'd be out for.

Another comfort you had, was that Billy was obsessed with you, he'd find you-

-Unless they'd killed him.

Your fingers paused their search. 

No, that intrusive thought was false, if they'd killed him, they wouldn't have been so worried about him.

What if he'd been hurt? The last time you'd seen him was when he'd stepped away to get you something to drink.

Actually, you'd chased him away, you wanted alone time from him and this was the consequence. What would have happened if you hadn't made him leave? You would probably be safe in his arms right now.

You choke on your breath, fingers slipping from their search to rest beside your head.

You let a few tears slip free, and more follow. You wanted your husband.

The car comes to a stop and you lift your head, you hear the doors slam shut, and you wonder what's coming next.

Oh god, what if they leave you in here?

Just as your stomach twists, the trunk lever clicks, and you squint as light hits your eyes.

The masked man extends his hand to you, and you take it, guessing that this must be the nice-ish one from earlier.

You struggle to get your feet out of the car, and everything hurts when you move.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers as you stand on the cold floor before him, “We were just supposed to take someone as leverage. It shouldn't have been you.”

You sigh, looking around the room, realising that you're in a garage with an automatic door, big enough to hold two vehicles.

It sort of feels like someone's house, maybe the suburbs, you spot a bike hanging on the wall.

“I'm the worst person to have kidnapped. My husband won't stop until he finds me.”

“I know.” Is all the man responds with.

You reach into the trunk to grab your green velvet heels, too in love with them to leave them behind.

He takes you into the house, you stiffen in fear as you realise you're trapped in here with a bunch of strange men.

“Please let me go.” You say calmly, trying to be the voice of reason, “You don't want the trouble of keeping me here.” 

You want to add that Billy was trained in hostage retrieval, that he was basically an expert in infiltration, but you didn't want to scare them. Scared men were dangerous men.

The men stand in the living room of the small house and begin speaking in hushed tones to each other. You can't make out exactly what's being said but it seems like one of the men is sympathetic to you, but the other two are not.

“Take her upstairs and tie her up in one of the bedrooms.”

You feel your heart jump in your chest. You turn to the man behind you, who'd released you from the trunk, in hopes that he challenges the order.

He wraps his hand around your arm.

“You heard the man.” He says in acceptance.

There's no winning here, you're overpowered and you know it. You don't want to give them any excuse to hurt you further than they already have. 

You move quietly up the wooden staircase and you wait for the man to pick a bedroom.

“I'm not… trying to scare you,” you say softly, hoping to reduce the amount your voice carries in this small house.

“But my husband… he won't take kindly to this, he'll do whatever it takes to get me back.”

“I don't doubt it,” the man responds, tugging you into a room with a large window overlooking the street at the front of the house, “I'm sure he probably has a location device installed in that ring we took from you. He probably always knows where you are.”

You blink, scrunching your eyebrows at his tone.

“What are you trying to say?”

He grabs the metal chair at the vanity and points to it for you to sit.

“Not trying to say anything. Powerful men don't trust their wives. That's all.”

You swallow, looking up at this stranger, unable to form a response.

“He tracks me because he loves me- in case something like this happens.” You finally manage to say.

His shoulders shake as he laughs.

“You're more delusional than I expected.” He pulls a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket and uses it to secure your wrists, “You think he'll kill us because he loves you? Or maybe he just likes killing?”

You feel your heart sink.

“You'll get what you deserve.” You whisper bitterly.

“Yeah? And what will you get?” He shoots back.

You clench your jaw, turning your head away, indicating to him that this conversation was finished. 

He humphs in satisfaction, walking out of the room, closing the door and locking it.

Leaving you here, in mostly darkness, to think about what he said.

The words hurt in a familiar way, that perhaps Billy's obsession with you was not because it was you, but because he’d been craving something to be obsessed with.

What if… you weren't the first woman that he'd done this to? What if there was someone else out there, living, or perhaps dead, that he'd found a way to trap as well?

Why were you thinking this way? Billy wasn't some evil mastermind, he was just a lonely boy that wanted someone to love.

Was he?

You shake your head, gritting your teeth. 

Now more than ever, you needed to find the good in him, you needed to remind yourself of seeing that lonely, scared boy when you looked into his eyes.

It was proof that he wasn't what everyone else said he was. He wasn't some monster, he was human, and he just needed support.

You sigh, heart yearning for him, to be held, to be kissed. 

Sure, you clearly had some issues and doubts, but you could fix that on your own time, after he saved you from this situation.

You close your eyes. There was a high chance he'd kill the men who'd kidnapped you. It was an eventuality you had to be prepared for.

Would he kill for you because he liked killing? Did it matter? Was that the stockholm syndrome talking?

You frown, tipping your head back, trying to relax in the uncomfortable chair.

Did you love him?

You wanted to so badly, but was it real?

How far would he go to keep you by his side?

How far did you want him to go?

It was frustrating. You really needed to find a way to bring this up with him. It would destroy any relationship you had if you kept bottling this.

You sigh, opening your eyes. You can’t believe you’re actually thinking about solving your relationship issues while handcuffed to a chair after being kidnapped. You might be just as insane as him.

In the darkness of the room, with only the outside street lamp illuminating the bed, the flash of red catches your eye easily.

You blink in surprise, studying it, the single red dot of a laser, watching as it glides over the walls and moves behind you. 

When it appears on your thigh, you drop your head to keep looking at it.

A laser? Was someone just shining a laser pointer at you?

The laser moves up, over your stomach, and you swallow, realising that this might very well be a gun being pointed at you.

You angle your head to keep your eyes on it, the red dot stops in the center of your chest for a moment, before it moves to the spot just above your left breast.

Were you gonna get shot?

The glowing dot makes a circle, and then works its way over your left shoulder, and toward your elbow before stopping and retracing its path, stopping at your chest once more.

Billy.

It was him, telling you he was here by tracing his tattoo on your skin.

You sigh in relief, tears threatening to fall, you try to blink fast to chase them away.

Your husband was here, and he was going to punish the people that would dare hurt you.

It brings a little smile to your face, and then you watch the laser move, circling on the lamp sitting on the bedside table, an indication that he needs something from you.

You study it for a moment, and you figure he must want you to find a way to drop it, the crash would probably make a small distraction.

Looking out the window, you nod, unsure if he can see you or not, but the laser disappears soon after.

The house is mostly quiet, you can hear the muffled sounds of the men below talking, and you wonder how well a diversion like this would work.

Like in the movies, you lean forward, and try to stand up with your wrists trapped behind the chair.

It was one of those light metal chairs with a simple curling design on the back. The masked man had handcuffed you between the woven design so that anywhere you went, the chair went.

The movies definitely made it look easier, and you almost want to laugh at how ridiculous you felt, hunched over, your wrists hurting where you have to drag the chair along behind you.

You make it though, and you sit on the chair, carefully lifting a leg, impeded by your dress a little, and you tug the lamp off the nightstand with your foot.

It crashes spectacularly, and you hear the voices pause, before absolutely nothing.

They're moving quietly, you guess, but no one makes it to the door before a loud bang goes off below you.

It's almost deafening, even from where you are, your ears ring, your heart races as you hear the gunfire start, but you don't hear any answering rounds.

The house goes dead silent, and you can't hear anything over the ringing in your ears, it's a few moments before it subsides, just in time for the door to open.

It's slow, and in the darkness your breath stops in your chest before you catch sight of his familiar face.

Billy.

Your heart accelerates, elation fills your chest as he spots you after scanning the room for threats.

“Took you long enough.” You say impulsively as he approaches, sheathing his gun into the waistband of his fancy suit, wearing leather gloves and a bulletproof vest over his gala attire.

By the gods, you didn’t think he could look hotter, but the mix of combat gear and fine clothing has you clenching around nothing.

His mouth curves up into a small smile at your words, hair falling into his eyes as he fishes keys out of his pocket to unlock your cuffs.

He seems a little off, still tense, he moves behind you to set you free.

You stand as soon as you’re released, turning, you fling yourself into his arms as fast as you possibly could.

He returns the vigour just as swiftly, his arms coming tightly around your body, squeezing you.

It’s relief like no other, the knowledge that you were going to be okay, that he was, however bruised you both were, you were both okay now.

You feel him press his face to the top of your head, you eagerly breathe in his scent, mixed in with gunpowder, blood and sweat, your stomach twisting in pleasure.

There’s still so much darkness in his eyes when you draw away from each other, and you’re not too sure why, but maybe it’s something you can deal with later.

You open your mouth to ask him something, but he grips your jaw gently, dropping his head to press his lips to yours.

Every thought flies right out of your head. Your fingers curl against his bulletproof vest, pulling him closer, sparks going off in your head as you rise up onto your toes to keep kissing him.

You sigh into his mouth, and he hums in response, need curling inside of you, his hand moving slowly to cup the back of your neck.

So many things are said in those few moments when no words are spoken. I’m glad you’re okay, I was so worried about you, I love you, I just realised I can’t live without you.

He pulls back a little, nose brushing yours, forehead to forehead and you swear you can feel him like he’s just an extension of yourself. 

“Let’s go.” He finally whispers, and you nod, reaching to grab your shoes once more, that you’d placed on the floor next to the spot the masked man had originally restrained you.

The house is smoky, you cough, frowning as you follow him down the steps, waving your hand to fan the irritant away.

He stops at the bottom, and turns to you, picking you up with ease, and continues moving. The floor is covered in glass and wooden splinters that crunch under his shoes as he walks.

You finally spot the four men, on their knees with their hands behind their heads. Their masks have been pulled off, finally revealing their faces to you.

You feel a little bad for them at first, the hopelessness in their eyes turns you nauseous. You wonder if he’s going to kill them.

“Sweetheart.” Billy murmurs into your ear, catching your attention. You turn to look at him.

“Show me the man that hit you.”

How would you know? You definitely couldn’t identify them by their looks. You swallow, trying to figure out how you knew earlier.

The eyes, you realise. Aside from the mannerisms and their voice, the man that had hit you, had so much anger, and so little soul.

You glance at the men, finding him easily, he stares back at you evenly, furiously, and you know it’s him without a doubt.

“Him.” You whisper, looking back at Billy.

He nods, moving to the garage before placing you down gently.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Something’s still off in his eyes. There’s an anger he’s trying to shield you from, and you realise without a doubt, that he’s going to kill someone.

He closes the door between the house and the garage. It doesn’t stop you from stepping up close to the door in an attempt to hear what was going on.

You try the door- locked. 

Behind you, someone clears their throat.

You spin in surprise, breath halting, but quickly restarting when you realise it’s Frank.

He’s dressed in full tactical gear, looking at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Trust me. You don’t want to see what he’s about to do.” Frank says gruffly.

You turn back to the door.

“He’s really going to kill them?” You ask.

“Eventually. First he needs to get a message across.” 

You gasp, when on cue, you hear a scream from inside.

Stepping back in shock, your eyes widen.

“Is he doing this for me, Frank? I didn’t ask for this.”

“You don’t have to ask.”

You turn to Frank, mouth open to protest.

“This- I know he’s killed before- but, I don’t think I want him killing for me.”

Frank lets out a slow breath, crossing his arms.

“You have to understand, men like Billy and me- family life doesn’t come easily to us, we have to fight hard to keep it. And if someone comes along and thinks they can take it away, we show them, exactly why we have the reputations we do.”

You swallow, turning back to the door when you hear another shout. You wonder if his words are related to the scar on Maria’s face.

“They think you make him weak, they think they can come after him now because he has someone he’ll bend for. You don’t make him weak. You make him deadly.”

Your heart warms at the thought, you turn to look at Frank helplessly.

“What can I do?” You whisper.

“Remind him that he’s not the monster everyone sees him as. He’s going to need that from you.” Frank answers.

You let out a slow sigh, nodding in acceptance.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d take this so well. I thought you’d run screaming for the hills when you finally saw the real him.”

You smile sadly. He’d never really hid himself from you in the first place. 

If only Frank knew that- you wonder if his words would be different.

“I guess… maybe there’s something wrong with me too.”

“It’s a good thing,” You look up in surprise at his words, “Means you understand each other.”

You hum, deep in thought about his words, worried about the cataclysmic fallout that could happen if Billy ever found out about those divorce papers you have hidden.

After a few more minutes of muffled screaming, the door finally opens.

Billy, blood splashed beautifully against his face, steps through, a paper towel in his clean hands.

“You okay with cleanup, Frankie?” He says, barely looking at you.

“Yeah,” Frank answers, “Get your girl home. I’ve got it from here.”

“Thanks.” He finally turns to you, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it up for you. The silver glints in the light.

Your ring.

You extend your hand bashfully letting him slide it on, heart pounding in your chest. He’d done all of this for you.

Your fingers link with his right after, following as he moves to open the large garage door. It slides open to reveal a matte black car waiting just outside.

It’s an audi, you recognise by the four rings, but it’s not one of his you’d seen before.

He wraps a hand around your body, lifting you easily and carrying you the short distance to the car, helping you in, before making his way around.

You tug your seatbelt on, watching in surprise as he reaches under the steering wheel, manipulating something before the car purrs to life.

Good lord, he stole this car? You want to verify your thoughts but you decide against it, instead, you watch him put the car into gear, and begin reversing.

It’s peaceful to watch him drive, you want to smooth the lines between his eyebrows, you want to reach over and take his hand, but you’re worried for some reason.

This isn’t the man you’re used to. The darkness in his eyes make you concerned about setting him off- not that he’d take any anger out on you- but that he might grow tired of your pestering.

So instead, like the usual coward you are, you simply look at him as he drives.

“I didn’t see you during the robbery. Where did you go?” You ask softly.

He takes a deep breath, glancing over at you.

“I had some guys there as backup. They found some of the Phoenix guys knocked out in the basement. I went down to check it out. They locked us in. When I got out, you were gone.” 

You nod, the pieces fitting into place.

“I never should have left your side.” He finally says, squeezing the steering wheel tighter.

You reach for him, placing your hand on his thigh.

“It’s not your fault.” You soothe.

He lets out another breath, shaking his head.

“I… didn’t realise what losing you would feel like. For a moment, I didn’t know where you were, if you were alive- I would have torn everything down to find you.”

“I’m right here.” You answer, and you watch him take another pained breath.

.

He’s distant in the elevator, and you think you understand now. He doesn’t know how to process this- almost losing you- you don’t think he’s ever felt this way before. He’s angry that this happened maybe, and that darkness is slowly festering inside of him.

When you finally see yourself in the bathroom mirror, you realise that your appearance had only been adding to his distress. You look properly thrown about, your hair sticks up and your face and arms are bruised from the mishandling.

You hear a knock on the bathroom door, finding him there, staring at you.

Splashed in blood, his gloves and bulletproof vest gone, he looks at you with concerned eyes.

“Need any help?” he asks.

“Yes,” You say almost instantly, turning your back to him so that he can get the zipper of your dress down.

You don’t hear him approach, but you feel a tug on the back of your dress, and you pull the garment off your shoulders.

You’d been wearing boob tape, and you raise your hands to cover it, a little shy about him seeing you in something like this.

“Don’t.” He murmurs, taking the little bottle of oil from your hands just as you reach for it.

“Show me what to do.”

You swallow, guiding him into carefully using the oil to remove the tape. Even though his hands are on your almost bare form, there’s nothing sexual about this, all there is, is care and attention to taking care of you.

His thumb massages the oil into your skin, and when all the tape is removed, he hesitates for a moment before withdrawing his hands.

Your hip and knee is bruised too, you discover, as he gets the dress down your legs. You’re no doubt going to be in a lot of pain tomorrow.

“Shower with me.” You say, ready to beg if he says no.

He doesn’t, he smiles, nods, reaches for the buttons on his shirt.

You step into the shower, finding the right temperature, reaching up to begin unravelling your hair.

You feel his hands take over, tugging out the bobby pins, the way he did on your wedding night, letting your hair fall freely under the warm water. 

You turn to look at him, blood washing from his skin in pink rivulets, you watch each other, amazed at the beauty of him in every state. You glance at the tattoo on his shoulder, the snake, with its fangs bared, ready to strike.

You touch it gently, he drops his head to watch your fingers roam his skin.

There isn’t anything that needs to be said, even after all this carnage, you know you still want him.

Or so you think.

You withdraw at that thought, but he doesn’t let you, he grasps your wrist, pulling your palm back to his chest. When you can’t meet his eyes, he holds your jaw with his other hand and forces you to look at him.

“Don’t pull away from me.” He grits out.

You sigh.

“Or what?” You challenge.

He leans in, pressing his mouth to yours harshly, you moan, eyes fluttering shut, your nails curling into his chest.

He hisses, biting on your bottom lip in response, you smile into his mouth, your other hand moving behind his neck to tug harshly on his hair.

He grunts, presses you back until you bump the wall of the shower, you look up at him, with pleading eyes, begging him to fix all the things going wrong in your head.

He pins your wrists beside your head, the darkness in his eyes shifting from internalised anger and fear, into something sweeter.

“Do you want this?” he asks lowly, releasing your wrist for a moment to push his hair back, out of his face before finding your hand again.

“Yes.” You answer confidently, wriggling a little so that he holds you tighter.

His mouth meets your neck, kissing softly, tongue darting wetly across your skin before bites down on your shoulder.

The moan you let out comes from a primal place deep inside of you, angling your neck to give him space to continue tormenting your skin. 

Though his moves are firm, and his bites are rough, he’s especially gentle when handling you. When he trails his hands down to touch your clit, he softly traces over your bruises along the way.

You gasp when his fingers meet your clit, gliding softly at first, before he traps your swollen bud between his index and middle fingers and squeezes gently.

You stutter out a moan, reaching out to grip his shoulder, pressing your nails in to show him just how wicked it feels.

He chuckles, a lone finger slipping into your cunt as his other hand cups your cheek, thumb hooking into your mouth and settling between your teeth.

You bite down a little as he begins pumping his long finger into you, pressing against just the right spots, making your shudder eagerly in response.

“You think you can leave me?” He asks calmly, “You think you can get this feeling anywhere else?”

You shake your head, knowing the answer without a doubt.

He lets out a groaning breath, the sound coming from a place deep in his chest.

Your eyes roll back in your head when he curls his finger, pressing that delectable spot deep inside of you, rubbing it harshly for a moment before withdrawing his fingers.

He grabs some shampoo, kissing you softly while he works it into your hair, smoothing it away before using conditioner. He makes sure to clean you both, before he turns the water off, picking you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he steps out.

He holds you firmly to his wet body, grabbing a towel for you and your hair, before picking you up once more and placing you gently on your bed.

He doesn’t give you a chance to speak, or think, kissing his way over your body, before spreading your thighs open for his mouth.

He groans into your cunt as he licks it slowly, encouraging you to reach down and tug on his hair.

Your nails dig into his shoulder, his tongue working magic on your swollen clit, licking eagerly at your bundle of nerves until your toes are curling and your back arches.

“Billy- oh god-” You moan, your orgasm hitting you swiftly in the moments right after. It’s so powerful, you can’t stop the noises that leave you with each wave of bliss that hits.

He kisses your thighs when he’s done, straightening his body, hovering over you, guiding your thighs around his hips.

His cock brushes your entrance. You gasp, the sensation making you shiver needily.

“That’s it, little wife. Say my fucking name.” He grunts, rubbing the head of his cock over your entrance teasingly.

Your nails claw at his biceps, trying to get your desperation for him under control.

“Please, Billy.” You say, almost in tears at how badly you need him.

One of his hands grip your jaw as he leans in to kiss you harshly, pressing his cock in at the same time.

You claw at his back, pulling him in, reaching down to grip his hip, to pull him in deeper.

He groans into your mouth, he moves to press his mouth in close to your ear.

You hear his breathing stutter, a small keen as he fills you to the brim.

“I love you.” He gasps out, shuddering as he draws back a little to press into you again.

His cock fills you just right like it always does, and you feel your walls clench around him the more you hear how hard it is for him to breathe when he’s inside of you. 

The power you have over him doesn’t go unnoticed, he groans loudly the next time you tilt your hips upward.

He takes it slow, easing himself in, before withdrawing. You don’t like that, wrapping your legs tighter around him to keep him where he is.

“Fuck, sweetheart, fuck. You feel-” He groans, “You feel so fucking good I’m not gonna last long.”

You know the sentiment, even with his hips rocking slowly, you already feel like you’re on edge, mind hazy, your body ready to reach that peak at any moment.

He kisses you more, moaning into your mouth, slowly beginning to rock his hips more, his thrusts growing more forceful as time goes on.

“So good for me baby.” He murmurs, biting down on your shoulder again.

You gasp, tears slipping down your cheeks as you feel your body burn, the heat you feel for him growing more and more intense until you can’t take it any more, cunt squeezing his cock tightly as you come, trembling uncontrollably.

He groans above you, and you feel him come too, emptying himself into you, filling you up just the way you need.

He kisses any part of you he can reach, waiting for you to calm down, stroking over your damp hair, making sure you feel every ounce of love he holds for you. 

When you’re calm, and your eyes are half-lidded with exhaustion, he kisses you on the forehead and tells you he’ll be right back, grabbing a warm damp cloth to clean you up with, before tucking you into bed.

You can feel the exhaustion in him as well, the way his body sags in relief when he finally settles into the space beside you, your hand smoothing gently over his back and neck, and delving into his hair.

There’s nothing you want more than this moment, nothing you crave more than the feeling of being beside him.

You tell him you love him too, just before you fall asleep. You know your body will hurt lots in the morning, but at least for right now, you’re safe.

.

.

.

[quietzap]

how do you navigate your feelings towards ziam and cheryl/bear/kate/maya on top of this immense grief? i don't mean to be insensitive but i haven't found an answer for myself yet, i can't believe we'll never get answers now

(To anyone seeing this, read until the end before saying anything thank you.) Well. I'm gonna ramble a bit but bear with me. Spotify played Let Me and Common on shuffle the other day and I cried a bit. It's unfair. It should've never ended this way. But I had already accepted ages ago that we might never know the truth. I still have my beliefs. That Zayn and Liam were together. Maybe they had broken up who knows but if they did then I still truly believe their bond was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I've gone through so many emotions this past week. But seeing the posts of cheryl etcetc or people mentioning bear (Zayn was the only one who didn't fwiw), it didn't make me feel anything. Maybe bc I had already accepted we couldn't do anything about the stunts, and/or maybe bc it's still difficult for me to accept he's really gone or bc it doesn't matter to me at this moment. Or bc I haven't actually sat down to think about what it means that he's gone. I've just been thinking of the pain all of Liam's loved ones are in right now and will be in for the foreseeable future. And I include Zayn in this. I also don't really want to think about it bc I think I might get angry. We've all seen Liam's video on snapchat from last month, where he said he was stunting and forced to do things he didn't want to do and to send help. I often used to say that I didn't understand why the boys accepted this situation instead of just getting out, consequences be damned. Ofc it's easier said than done. But I thought maybe they thought it was worth it in some way. But then, Louis got out. Zayn got out. (In some way, I mean they have privacy and a real career, like Niall and Harry). I guess I will never understand why Liam was still the only one so stuck in this shitty situation. Why couldn't he live his life in peace like Zayn and only appear when he released music? Why couldn't he find a better team or why did he even accept to go along for so long? Why did people let him? Why?! That's what I want to know. Fucking why. And I want Liam's image/reputation to be redeemed. Anyway I digressed I'm sorry.

I just sincerely hope Zayn will be ok. Jaymi who was in Union J lost his soon-to-be-husband a couple months ago (Olly was buried the day they were supposed to get married last month). They'd been together for 14 years. And Olly died in similar circumstances (a fall from the 3rd floor of a hotel). And as incredibly awful as this is, knowing that other people are going through similar grief helps a bit, and I hope it will help Zayn and Liam's loved ones know they're not alone. (Edit: I'm not saying these deaths are linked, Olly's death is an accident, Jaymi was there when it happened. This paragraph is about not being fully alone in grief because other ppl go through similar things).

Idek if I've answered your question. I guess basically the stunts don't cross my mind coz it's not important to me. These past few years when Liam was alive it wasn't important (tho I hated it) bc I accepted the boys made their own choices. And now it's not important bc it won't bring Liam back and bc his loved ones matter more to me. Now, if I'm actually wrong about my beliefs then it is what it is and I feel for his exes/gf/child, and if the maya thing is true I still think addiction made him act that way and that if he'd got a chance to really get better this wouldn't have happened again. If I'm not wrong tho, I truly feel for Zayn who doesn't get to grieve the way he deserves to. Tho I'm glad he has loved ones who know the truth and who can support him the right way.

I hope this helps. Feel free to tell me if you want to discuss this further or anything ❤️

(Link to the videos of Liam from snapchat: x)

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I was re-reading some of my old posts from when we got to the end of Meursault arc and looking at all the people who were asking “hey why didn’t Chuuya just kill Fyodor earlier”. And knowing what we know now… oh no.

So, I am very convinced that Chuuya was warned not to come into contact with Fyodor at all, as Dazai believed at that point that the ability was touch based. (I believe someone on here made a post where Dazai likely dug the body out of the wreckage instead of Chuuya because of this exactly.)

But anyways, as someone who still wishes there’d been more drama in this arc, I’d like to present to you a story divergence where Fyodor actually anticipates more of skk’s planning than they thought and had a trap in place based off of having observed their actions in Dead Apple. It leads to a much more dire situation where Dazai has to improvise on the fly, and he is actually willing to pull a sacrifice here to achieve the original plan of trapping Fyodor with the pilot. Something happens, and Dazai is too worried about Fyodor’s mysterious ability, and due to this uncertainty, he does not involve Chuuya in this updated last-ditch play. Fortunately or unfortunately, Chuuya recognizes that this plan (because they can basically read each other’s minds at this point) has a good chance of not actually working, and consequently, also a very good chance of killing Dazai for nothing, which infuriates Chuuya since he knows full well Dazai is doing this for the Agency and he’s “just gonna give up” when he’s clearly found a place for himself.

So, yeah, Chuuya makes his own autonomous choice and… kills Fyodor.

And everyone loses. Chuuya gets violently taken over by Fyodor, literally his worst nightmare. Dazai has to watch, knowing he fucked up. And Fyodor doesn’t manage to get killed by the vampire, so he doesn’t take over Bram, and he isn’t in the right place at the right time to cause the Tripolar Singularity. A single act of free will by a person Fyodor had written off as controllable may not have actually fixed things… but it certainly changed the story.

idk I just think this could be a fun premise :)

[lipstickmarks]

slain headcanons

— Sloane Mairi x Dain Aetos

Summary: sfw and nsfw head canons for Sloane and Dain

Word Count: 746

Warnings: nsfw, dom!dain, brat!tamer dain, mentions of ass slapping, masturbation (f), hand jobs (m receiving), squirting, smut, nasty sex, size kink, use of a towel as a gag, brat taming, rough sex

Author's Note: originally posted as a reblog

sfw

they both have a glow up once they get together. Sloane starts glowing from feeling so relaxed and stress free and Dain gets a little swagger in his step from how much Sloane gasses him up. Basically, they both look better bc they both feel better

Sloane is obsessed with their size difference and it boosts Dain’s self esteem

Dain loves to spoil. He never assumed he’d be the type to drop all his life savings on gifts for his person but Sloane brings it out in him. He just has the urge to shower her with presents and make sure she’s always happy. When others catch on, they give him shit for it but when Dain starts to get into the really extravagant gifts, everyone’s like “sugar daddy Dain????”

they’re that couple that’s ALWAYS on vacation to the point that it annoys other people😭

sloane loves to cuddle. dain likes it but sloane is always rearranging them and then accidentally elbowing him in the chin and jamming her hair in his mouth. sloane just wants to be inside his skin. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Sloane is Dain’s peace. He’s a bit at war with himself, grappling with the things he’s done and the consequences of falling for propaganda. The lives that his obedience and incidental complacency claimed. Sometimes, he straight up fucking HATES himself. Those times, when things get really bad, he’ll wrap Sloane up in a hug from behind, biceps tight across her chest, and breathe her in. Hot tears will prick his eyes as he mutters into the crown of her head, “I don’t deserve you.”

Then Sloane always sits him down and proves that that is indeed not the case. “Dain, I am choosing you. You’re not your mistakes. You are who I love. You have to believe you’re worthy of that.”

Dain needs a lot of reassurance. He had to change his perspective very quickly and sometimes it still makes his head spin. Sloane grounds him, keeps him sane, reminds him that there are certain truths that can never be covered up or altered. Like the fact that they were made for each other. She’ll swing her leg over his in bed and snuggle into his chest. “Look how well we fit, baby.”

Dain proposes while they’re laying in bed. Sloane offers him a simple act of kindness like handing him a tissue or fixing his bed head and he knows right then and there he wants her to be his wife.

they have 3 little girls and they all are identical to sloane. an army of mini sloanes. dain is obsessed with all of them.

nsfw

Brat Sloane and Brat Tamer Dain

sloane be slobbering on it

their spats always end in sex. not big fights like “you risked your life unnecessarily and i’m mad at you” but “why would you tell Aaric about our sex life?!” "We were playing Never Have I Ever!"

dain will be laying in bed, chatting about nonsense and then all of a sudden— whoops! sloane pulls his dick out and starts running her thumb over his head. “Go ahead baby, I’m listening”

sloane gets so hot and bothered around Dain. she sometimes sneaks into his bag while he’s at the gym and steals his sweat towel so she can smell it... then she uses it to get herself off when he’s not around... WHO SAID THAT

when Dain finds out he’s been robbed, he punishes her. he uses that same towel as a gag while he’s fucks her from behind and punishes her with ass slaps.”

they love messy, nasty sex. If the sheets aren’t soaked through from Sloane squirting then did they even do it?

Sloane is addicted to wearing clothes with Dain’s last name on it. Flight jacket? Yes. T-shirt? Yes. If it says "Aetos", hand it the fuck over.

Dain also loves it when Sloane wears his last name. He especially loves fucking her in nothing but those articles of clothing.

Dain calls Sloane “Mairi” when he’s really pissed at her, but only in the field. In the bedroom, she is Sloane, sweetheart, my love, or baby.

Oh, speaking of pet names— Sloane loves to call Dain by endearments. He needs a lot of love and assurance and Sloane is more than happy to comply. Baby, sweetheart, my love, they all turn Dain into a blushing mess. And considering how often Dain has her blushing and stuttering in bed, it’s a nice exchange of power.

[hkthatgffan]

Hey! You seem like a huge *Gravity Falls* fan, so I was hoping you could answer some of my biggest questions about morality in the show. Since the release of *The Book of Bill* (which I’ve read), do you think Bill could ever be redeemed or seen sympathetically? Is there a possibility for him to get better and maybe even have a happy ending?

I ask this because I see a lot of fans saying, "He's awful," or "He deserves everything coming to him a thousandfold," and "Don't sympathize with him!" But then I watch the show, and I see characters like Gideon Gleeful and Robbie who were also problematic—they did terrible things but still got happy endings.

I know Gideon went to jail, but he broke out and ultimately had a positive resolution. Robbie, for example, tried to brainwash Wendy into a romantic relationship (which is super messed up!). Even though it didn’t work, and Wendy only dated him because she thought he wrote her that song, Robbie knew what the CD was supposed to do. But instead of facing real consequences, he just went through a breakup and still ended up with a happy ending, with friends and a new girlfriend.

As for Gideon, he tried to kill Dipper, manipulate Mabel, and invade the entire town’s privacy—basically doing some of the same things Bill did. Yet, after going to jail and making a last-minute turn toward good, he still got a happy ending.

So I’m super confused. What should I be feeling? Is there a correct way to view these characters? What do you think?

Bill at his core is the personification of denial. We see in the book that the harbours some regret and hatred for what he's done to the people around him but he refuses to try and take it to heart and use it as a point to grow from. I mean, look at what he did.

He killed his entire dimension and family and yet tries to deny it was anything bad and that in fact he liberated them. He manipulated and almost destroyed Ford and yet denies ruining the friendship they had. He tried to kill Dipper and Mabel and yet acts like it was nothing. Bill is unsympathetic. He's a narcissistic sociopath who doesn't wanna admit it.

The difference with Robbie and Gideon is that they changed and grew past their issues. Robbie tbh was more so being a literal teen drama story while Gideon was made that way through his exposure to Journal 2 and how that corrupted him. Once both found a new lease on life, they were able to grow and become better.

Bill is not that. He cannot accept that he's not fine and that he's the sole survivor of his kind and has pushed everyone he knew out of his life through his own actions. We've all probably dealt with people like Bill Cipher. Be it a person, co-worker, significant other, friend, family member, etc. We've all had that person who acts full of themselves and manipulatively but in reality is suffering. But because of how they act and their refusal to do anything, you start to lose any sympathy or interest in helping or being there and just let them go. Congrats...you just escaped a toxic relationship.

As someone who has dealt with Bill Ciphers in my life like many of us probably have, it's easy to feel sympathy for him. Bill make his case out as such that you wanna feel like he deserves better. But he's a trillion year old being that has been doing the same thing over and over again and refuses to make an effort to move on and let himself accept what he did to his dimension and to people around him like Ford.

Ford on the other hand realized that and cut Bill out of his life. He's doing better now because of that and has his family by his side. Ford is an example of how to move on from such toxic situations and people and find happiness in your life again after that. Bill is the example of what happens if you can't.

Life is short. We all will die one day. We all deserve to lead a life free of people like Bill Cipher in it. The best thing we can do is follow Ford and find the people in life that make us happy and let go of Bill.

So, to answer your question, NO!

I don't think Bill Cipher can be redeemed or seen in a sympathetic way. He tried to. But he's shown even in the Theraprism that he can't. He's doomed to live forever with the shit he's done. And it's his own fault.

Bill can say he's fine but in the end...he's not. And he never will be. There is no redemption for Bill Cipher.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

https://www.tumblr.com/twinsarekeepers/786696321217232896/idgaf-i-nodded-when-katara-bloodbent-that-piece-of

Thoughts on this take regarding Katara and blood bending?

*sighs eternally* I'm so fucking sick of this discourse, so here's the short version: Hama abused Katara. Fuck that bitch, fuck her bullshit "teachings", fuck her excuses, fuck her stans, fuck her apologists, and fuck the people that act like she was doing Katara a favor by abusing her, free my girl from this stupid fucking fandom.

Long version actually breaking down the horrible arguments of that post:

"She used the a power created by the only other waterbender, who used it to escape colonial power" Did you miss the part when Hama, an adult, tricked Katara, a child, into coming into the woods with her and then used said power to violate Katara's body? And then did the same to her friends? Aka, the part that means that, despite being a survivor from Katara's tribe, she's also HER ABUSER, because I cannot stress this enough, that's what Hama is: Katara's abuser.

And if you don't agree, ask yourself how you'd label Ozai if he "taught" Zuko to redirect lightining by shooting lightining at him, or at Ursa and Iroh, to force him into doing it - and that for each second Zuko fails to get a handle on it, he and those he cares about are in visible physical agony, while Ozai is just laughing at their suffering, and then has the nerve to look all smug and congratulate Zuko, who is left in tears after such a stressful situation.

"It felt like ancestral rage" Yes, it did, and rage is important and can sometimes be good. Sometimes it also poisons you and makes you do things you'll come to regret - yes, even when done against somebody who was a total piece of shit (see Zuko, the person who was with Katara on that journey, not burning Zhao's face even though we know the bastard would not have spared him)

"And yeah, that’s not how the (white) writers wanted us to view blood bending" And the tumblr users want us to view abusive behavior as good just because it came from someone who happened to be of the same ethnicity as the actual hero, even though betrayed said hero's trust in a horrible way - again, something said tumblr users don't do to Ozai.

The *gasp* white writers are holding the brown skinned woman to the same standard they hold the light skinned man, aka treating them equally, and since they both abused vulnerable children that trusted them and used "I'm trying to teach you something" as an excuse, their "students" reject their lessons, find support, and send their abusers to rot in prison where they belong - and redemption is not even off the table, it's just clear the children they abused won't be bending over backwards to make it happen, because they don't owe their abusers a damn thing.

Maybe ask yourself why you have a problem with that, because I assure you it's not because the writers are the ones with a double-standard here.

"Aang had energybending, Zuko had lightining bending" Aang used it as a last resource to avoid taking somebody's life, and it comes with the consequence of "If your spirit is even a tiny bit corrupt, your very soul will fucking die." That's a much more extreme consequence than just "I did this thing and felt bad about it" and I doubt that using it without care wouldn't count as corrupting his spirit, so it's a power that he cannot abuse without IMMEDIATELY getting screwed over.

And Zuko has lightining REDIRECTING. He cannot create it. Somebody needs to attack him first, and even if he aims it back at the person that shot it at him (with intention to KILL him no less), they will not suffer too much. Once again, it's a power that is basically impossible for him to abuse.

Both of these are VERY different from being able to, in Katara's own words "reach inside somebody and control them" and that can be used in anyway she wants, as long as there's a full moon, therefore the comparison is, at best, unfair, and at worst it's downright dishonest.

You wanna know a power that DOES work in a simmilar way to bloodbending? Ty Lee's chi-blocking abilities. Abilities Katara was always freaked out by, and that the show presents as scary and evil 9 times out of 10.

Katara is a compassionate character with a strong moral compass, believes punching down is wrong, and her introduction to bloodbending came in the form of abuse, betrayal and trauma. Of course she hates it. It makes perfect sense for her to hate it, and I'm glad the writers respected that instead of just going "LOOK AT THIS COOL NEW POWER BOOST!" just because she'd obviously only use it against bad people.

Once again, somebody please free my girl from this fucking fandom.

[atopvisenyashill]

Sorry if you've answered this question before, but do you think that "Who told?" will be a part of Arianne's character arc going forward? Or do you believe that no one told on Arianne to Doran?

My inclination is that Drey was the one who told, because he gives me Nice Guy vibes.

Garin is a genuine platonic friend to Arianne, but Drey isn't; he wanted to marry Arianne ("Arianne must wed; she had accepted that. Drey had wanted her, she knew; so had his brother Deziel, the Knight of Lemonwood.")

Drey has been stuck in the friendzone with her for nine years. He knows she wouldn't choose him of her own free will. He knows that Doran can choose her husband for her. Therefore, Drey has reason to curry favor with Doran. He could have made his case to Doran that he'd be a great husband to Arianne because he would protect her even from herself. Drey could have reasoned with himself that even if Arianne was forced to marry him, she'd learn to love him when she saw what a great guy he was to her (Nice Guy logic). Drey's punishment was the lightest (time with Arianne's mother in Norvos).

How would it serve Arianne's story to figure out one of her closest friends was actually trying to force himself on her? Well, she's always trusted her sex-appeal would give her power over men. After their failed threesome with Tyene, Arianne never told Drey point-blank that it meant nothing to her and she would only ever see him as a friend; I think this is because she thought his desire for her would make him more loyal, when it really did the opposite. Arianne never had to worry that a man could try to rape her, because she always had her high birth to protect her. She's always been proud of being perceived as a "wanton" because she's always been shielded from any negative consequences. Figuring out that for all her privilege, working the sex-appeal could backfire on her horribly might cause her to try to rely more on her mind rather than her boobs; I think Arianne has a good head on her shoulders, but she always thought her beauty was more valuable than her brain. Arianne has a depressing lack of confidence in her mind and thinks her body is her best weapon. Realizing that even one of her closest friends doesn't respect her and thinks of her as a bimbo might cause her to act differently în the future.

i think the phrasing in that last part is really wild and a bit inappropriate lol.

IF someone told, drey is the blindingly obvious choice, yes, which is why i'm extremely meh on it. i think what's most likely is that no one told, and doran just isn't an idiot. tyene basically spells out the plan to doran's face, doran clearly has some sort of semi competent spy system, and i think he was embarrassed he didn't catch her earlier. i think the most interesting choice is tyene, bargaining to get herself & the sand snakes out of lockup.

but ultimately i think the point is less A Specific Person Betrayed Her but rather she was not as prepared as she needed to be, bc she didn’t have all the information she needed. i don't think the drey told thing is particularly deep - he's a very minor character, with very little emotional weight in his relationship with arianne. any story that centers around ~teaching arianne that she shouldn't be a slut rather than a meditation on the ways women are forced to use their sexuality as a weapon while simultaneously being punished for that sexuality, is bold faced misogyny in my eyes and the scenario you spin is just. not up to grrm's standards when it comes to plot & gender. imo, if someone told, it's tyene. also-

She's always been proud of being perceived as a "wanton" because she's always been shielded from any negative consequences.

Her father quite literally offers several old dudes for her hand as a way of putting her in her place about marriage. Yes, he's doing this as a cover for the Viserys thing and doesn't actually mean what it's implying. It's still implying that she's too loose for a proper match, and I also think it's wild and untrue to imply that high born women don't face consequences for being sexual.

[hestzhyen]

Leap of (Lack of) Faith

There's some discourse about Hakuri's suicide attempt in chapter 24 going around on Twitter that got me thinking. Well, actually, I just want to share my own pointless take. Yeah, I genuinely want to be perceived for once. But I hate trying to communicate in 240-character snippets on that hellsite, so I'll post here to rot in obscurity where I'm most comfortable.

Basically, there was a post in the Kagurabachi Twitter community that requested to talk about the abuse flashback-jump sequence. And yeah, uh, I'm kind of surprised at how little it gets brought up too. To quote myself:

Please don't ask me why I have three different usernames- there's no satisfying answer.

It's been a while since chapter 24 happened, so let's recap the lead up to this important moment. We first see Hakuri in Ch. 19 with his drink spilling out of his mouth, putting his inner monologue about "hav[ing] to grit your teeth and push through" to the lie. The very first shot of him, the very first food metaphor we see with him, is Hakuri being unable to cope. We don't know why he lost his his family, but he's clearly alone and not doing well. He's struggling.

Next thing we see is him being coincidentally saved by Chihiro. We get a full page of him narrating his impression of the moment, showing us the contrast between his desire to do some unspecified "job" and his fatalistic frame of mind. Then we learn he's weak as hell even though his heart's in the right place. He saves a little girl and insists on being taken back to the Yakuza's hideout, leading him to get kicked around and beaten up. He's a bloody, scribbly-eyed mess by the time he meets Chihiro for real. And this is exactly how we are supposed to see him until the moment he jumps in chapter 24.

It's so, so easy to overlook the hints towards Hakuri's painful past due to the way he's written. Most of his actions and dialogue are framed in a comedic way to bounce off of Chihiro's stoicism. Hakuri's pessimistic inner monologues when he's being hurt or nearly killed are right at home in this demographic too- wimps start at their lowest to leave lots of room to grow. And Shounen series always have a weak, lonely kid who's inspired to become strong. It's extremely standard stuff. But this moment right here was probably the biggest, most blatant hint that he's got more to his circumstances than the average zero-to-hero character:

That tiny little panel of him casually smearing the blood from his nose while he talks to Chihiro lives rent-free in my head. It's a throwaway motion in the moment, and not really out of place in an ultra-violent series like Kagurabachi. But compare that to how Azami -a professional combat sorcerer and war veteran!- screamed when he realized his hand was sliced in chapter 7, or how Chihiro is often shown wincing and having to adjust to his injuries. These characters definitely feel the hits that land on them. But the most hilariously pathetic character yet acts like the beat-down he received never happened. Nor like he's surrounded by bloody corpses. Hakuri is not only used to violence, he's used to it experiencing it.

Again, this is all framed in a comedic way due to his over-the-top personality and expressions. He's a freakish mess on the floor after taking the hit from Hiyuki, sobs in a silly way over Chihiro's backstory, is called "weak" and "a moron" and "a mess" by other characters, on and on. Hakuri's not written like he's supposed to be taken seriously after the first few pages we see of him.

The only other moments of foreshadowing came in chapter 23 as a set of blink-and-you'll miss panels and the last scene:

Hakuri's clenched, shaking fist when he talks about his "scary" older siblings isn't a huge tell. Neither is the insistence that they'd kill him on sight. We can comfortably assume that he's afraid of the consequences of betraying his powerful family despite being a weakling- that's where most authors would have gone with this scenario. But then why does his big brother Soya look so happy to see him? Was Hakuri over-reacting again when he talked about his family? Something's off here, but it's impossible to say exactly what.

The next chapter starts. Chihiro and Shiba are facing off against the Tou and it's looking tense. Chihiro flashes back to his dad talking about the Shinuchi, the fight's about to begin- but it cuts to Soya being a pretty normal person who misses his little brother.

And then we see this.

Suddenly a whole new and very serious dimension is added to Hakuri's character. He's not a goofy weakling that's going to improve himself with some determination and a training arc: he's a victim of abuse. This is the signal that the Sazanamis are truly fucked up more than we know, setting the stage for the major themes of the Rakuzaichi arc. And it makes re-reading those little bits of foreshadowing so much more painful.

This scene is the "oh shit" equivalent of Chihiro finding Char's severed leg in the car- yeah, the author really went there. And it's not even the last time we'll get a moment like this for Hakuri. The Ice Lady chapter is rightly remembered for it's impact, but Hakuri choosing to commit suicide should be held up alongside it IMO. Again: the author really went there, and not just for the shock value.

This moment should be remembered far more often than it is. It was the pivot from Hakuri being a generic potential sidekick into a complex and fully-realized character. Hakuri found people who could help him. Who treated him kindly. Who inspired him. But he chose death in an instant when his past came back to haunt him. Despite his improved circumstances, he had no hope for the future. He only felt fear and the urge to escape from looming torment.

Looking at what we know up to this chapter alone... how can you not feel for him? This goofy, ridiculous mess of a boy is really truly hurting and probably has been for years. But like many victims, he downplays and doesn't talk about it. He just tries to escape via whatever means he can.

So it burns me up that people are still reducing him to Chihiro's silly sidekick. If this scene was somehow not enough to dispel that notion, consider that Chihiro probably doesn't know that Hakuri had all those tools used on him, much less anything about Ice Lady. He knows that Hakuri was regularly ganged up on and beaten, and probably could infer that Kyoura deliberately looked away. But we haven't seen Hakuri talk about in detail about how "someone set him on the right path", nor mention taking a flying leap, nor share what's in his storehouse. He's still got a hell of a lot of literal and metaphorical pain he keeps inside. In the right circumstances, Hakuri could jump again.

Talk about this scene more often! REMEMBER it more often!

[ax-the-artist]

Tbh Ninjago reader backstories or literal background knowledge nowadays are boring as hell, don't get me wrong I still like these tropes alot! If it's written properly of course, but it just gets so bland nowadays when you read the same shit scenario over and over to make up for the lack of good books to the point you have literally every scenario memorized, especially when it comes to Ninjago Dragons Rising (my beloved isekai readers where are you..).Basically the main tropes of Ninjago fall under these three categories that I see almost fucking everywhere

Is some sort of elemental master (can be an open slate for extremely creative people)

They are in some way able to see the Ninja without much trouble or/and their close to an important side char (most of the time their related to one of the Ninja's)

They're super duper important like "omg is that [Name] in the scroll with the green ninja???????? How come we never piece that together??????" *Insert all the times it was obvious as shit to the point these Ninjas might've gotten Dora's blindness flu* as an excuse to make them op as shit (Chaotic Shattering and Alternate Angel are the exceptions they have amazing story making I recommend you to check them out!)

Like man these are good ngl, but they get overused over time, so here's some story ideas of the reader that you can use in your next Ninjago story free of charge!! (It's actually not, y'all just gotta credit me so I can have the chance to help other writers, it's nothing that big fr) I'd recommend using these in the lastest seasons since it's base of that, but you can do whatever you want because I'm no writer👍!!!!!!

The reader is a sentinent corpse, like they're half rotted with bits of their flesh already starting to fall off and their screen already a sickly gray color with their eyebags hollow and dark and they know that, their aware of their inconvenience immortality and they 100% make use of it. The only thing keeping them from falling apart to a puddle of bones and grey flesh and stuff is the sword that was like the first one the team found in the marionette, that's literally their soul and heart and they'd die without it. So they hide it, hide the fact their practically the impossible and their reason to keep living. They have a gang in the outskirts of the Draconian village that work as vigilants, some do bad stuff for selfish reasons, some do good stuff for compassionate reasons, but everyone knows there's a line they should never cross with their morality, and they know damn well their actions and consequences. Oh yeah their batshit crazy, it's to make up for the fact their always tethering on the fine line to Death's land, so they wanna act how they wanna

The reader is a ex war general of a different realm who's soul is in the hands of a deranged demi-god, their cautious of their words and actions because they never know when they'll drop dead next, knowing every word might be their last. Their crazy strong and ruthless but they also have this parenting side that comes out gently the closer they are to people, they get enraged when they see people forcing others into their own battles for unnecessary possible bloodshed that makes them go in a protective maniac killing spree, releasing the innocent from the clutches of the wicked. The dangerous part is that their experienced, precise and wastes no time, they know how they must act and they act brutally in the fight zone, quick and meticulous gut-wrenching moves, it shows they might be quiet and level headed, but everyone around them so far isn't even close to them, their a blood god on a throne of bleeding flesh and cracked bones, and everyone around it is just the next potential addition to this growing pile. Oh yeah they also have mad beef with the demi-god, and the demi-god in question is a masochist and sadist, the only reason they ain't dead yet with their actions because it likes the feeling. It's quite literally demi-god-> 'wants them so fucking bad' victim->'wants them so fucking DEAD' (their also a grieving dilf/milf, take it how you will)

Literally just a clone, someone's first clone that was given the acess to their own life (can work amazing with isekai readers if you want a fun challange, it's a blank slate but you also have to write a story around it, why did it come to being and why is given the freedom of individuality? A fun journey of self-discovery and knowing their limits and the original's past, bonus points if it's not the same person, don't act dumb you know what I mean). Of course it's someone's first clone so there will be some mistake, an extra finger, stretched torso, melting mouth etc. My personal favourite is the slitted monster mouth, because I can slap a sticky note on top and with the magic of thought I can give them funny cartoon mouths that moves whenever they speak, it can also become hyper-realistic or low shit. Really blank slate for this one

(You can always change some of these aspects of you want, I'm the one giving you these ideas after all so you have the creative freedom of thought)

Remember, please credit me for the sake of crediting, these are my original ideas and I'm just setting it out to the world, I'd greatly appreciate it! And also, don't be a dick with a stick up their ass :)

[bobbydagen24]

Barb and Crimp are not Redeemed characters and its odd how their films gave them happy endings.

lets start with Barb for one she led armies attacking other Tribes destroying cities and imprisoning countless people all so she could get the strings.

and wipe out all other cultures deciding only her own should Remain and anyone who didn't conform to that culture would be turned into a brainwashed zombie. some people try and argue she has good intentions but frankly her intentions aren't all that good compared to everything she did and this wasn't even a problem in the first place its not like all the Tribes were at war or anything.

they were fine living separately so combining the Tribes is a nice idea but going to these extremes is not excusable in any sense given there was no legit reason for her to take such extreme action. and in the end she gets beaten she doesn't have a last minute change of heart and decide to do the Right thing ( tho to be clear this wouldn't mean it would suddenly be okay for her to face no consequences one posotive I'll say about Veneer's arc in TBT is that he was still held accountable in the end despite having a last minute change of heart because Redemption doesn't mean someone gets let off scott free if anything it means the opposite )

and after her defeat Barb is instantly forgiven for no legit reason like I know story wise you could argue its because she's queen and they don't want more conflict with the Rock Tribe. but from a basic story point of view its wrong especially for a kids film Barb isn't only let off scott free but Poppy light heartedly befriends her. and makes it clear there's no ill will so yeah showing a film where a villain who causes this level of destruction simply because they believe they are right is let off scott free is not very satisfying story telling imo.

and its bad in a kids film Teaching lack of consequences and accountability for your actions no matter how bad.

like don't get me wrong I like Barb personality wise and that's deffo why a good chunk of the fandom don't have a problem with her being let off the Hook.

but obviously villains being likable doesn't mean they shouldn't face consequences loads of people love Velvet but most of her fans can accept that she deserved to go to prison at the end for kidnapping and torturing someone. and then there's Crimp she's less of a bad example but still an example she went along with kidnapping and torturing someone simply because she didn't want to lose her Job. she came and went as she pleased only being held against her will right at the end and just because her bosses were mean to her doesn't mean she isn't still a villain. the movie acts like this makes her a victim and someone who shouldn't be blamed for V and Vs crimes when frankly yes she should she was complicit. she turned a blind eye to someone's suffering because she didn't wanna lose her pay check she's just a cowardly Henchmen not an out and out victim.

and she should have still been held accountable in the end for being an accomplice.

and I'm sorry but to circle back to my guy Creek the morality of the movies is all over the place in this regards. the fact that the movies consider characters who actively chose to do evil things of their own free will as still redeemable and deserving of happy endings. even with no actual work put in to better themselves yet Creek the literal Hostage tortured and threatened into doing a bad thing was lumped in with the actual big bad villain in the end. and was seen as deserving of a gruesome comeuppance is frankly a Horrifying sense of morality and justice in my opinion.

yes he came back in the tv show but I'm only talking about the movie cannon.

and this way of thinking in Regards to what villains do and don't deserve to be Redeemed is Honesty arsed backwards. characters who do evil things because they decided that they should get to make choices that effect and change other Tribes filled with large populations of people simply because they think their culture is better than other people's. and characters who do evil things simply because they don't want to lose a Job no matter how much they may need it are infinitely worse.

than a character who simply gave in to the very human fear of not wanting to die horrifically and who was basically forced into the role of villain due to having literally no other option other than lie down and die. I love Trolls but man these movies have a terrible sense of morality and they do not do Redemption Arcs well. 😅😅😅😅

[nerves-nebula]

You ever see a certain fandom double standard were you think to yourself "i dont want to say its because of racism, but that feels like the only explanation"

So in ultrakill there are two prime bosses so far, basically super strong bosses that were important figures within their layers of hell

Minos was the former judge of hell, who after the dissaperance of god and the chaos that heaven fell into, started a peaceful revolution rebuilt the lust layer (as he believed that loving another was no sin) into a habitable place for the sinners to live in where they didnt have to continue to carry out their punishment anymore.

However after the Heavenly council was formed as the new leaders of heaven claiming to act out God's will, Gabriel was sent to execute Minos for no longer fufilling his role as the judge of hell, though Minos did try to reason with him, Gabriel killed him all the same, in which the remains of Minos's soul was improsoned within a flesh priso ln, Gabriel then taking his role as the new judge of hell.

Meanwhile Sisyphus was just another sinner in the layer of greed, when God dissappeared Sisyphus began building an army, knowing that now that heaven was in chaos it was the best time to strike abd overthrow their opressors.

Unfourtunatly heaven got their shit together and Gabriel was sent down with an army of other angels, ans Sisyphus's army was inexperienced in comparison, so they lost the fight and Sisyphus was decapitated by Gabriel and his soul imprisonment within another flesh prison.

When we meet minos after freeing him from the flesh prison he adresses out player character, V1 (a war machine that is fuelled by blood) as "creature of steel" and while hes thankful for his freedom he does nto forgive your kind (the machines) crimes against humanity and fights you.

This logic is flawed .

V1 and the other machines only commit the crimes they did against humanity because they were built by humanity to commit those crimes, their survival is dependant on a constantly sypply of blood, so despite being shown that machines can feel (rage, guilt, and vanity) they have no choice but to kill to survive.

Minos does not see the machines as a direct consequence of mankinds actions.

Sisyphus stands in contrast to this.

When we free him from his flesh prison, Sisyphus adresses V1 as "child of man" (already acknowledging the machines as the product of mankind) and states that while hes eager to go up to heaven and crush their armies with his bare hands he sees the blood of minos on your hands and is intrested in your skills as a weapon, fighting you to test you.

Minos dies at your hands and in his last words are apologising to his former subjects for being unable to protect them.

Sisyphus dies at your hands and his last is admitting that every fight he fought was doomed from the start, but that he doesnt regret fighting, and he dies laughing.

While Sisyphus still refers to you as a weapon, 1) it was not wrong since you were built as one, but 2) his language is still more humanising than Minos who does not fight you for your specific crimes but for the crimes of machines as a whole, aswell as referring to you as a creature of steel, seperating the machines from man.

Comparibly Sisyphus calls you child of man, you are not only the creation of mankind kind but their child, and its your skills he is intrested in, the word skill being very humanising, implying that its something you learnt yourself, rather than your abilities being built into you.

So why

Why do some people think that Sisyphus is the colder less sympathetic one.

Dont get me wrong Minos is sympathetic, but he is certainly colder in his treatment of you (though he is shown to have been a loving leader within the lust layer), and his thinking is shown to be flawed time and time again (eg. Him thinking that a peceful revolution was possible, thinking that he could reason with Gabriel, him treating the machines as seperate from humanity).

(Like seriously, did he think that just because god fucked off that the citizens of his city were safe? It was only a matter of time before heaven got its shit together and came for him and his city

"Oh i will just reason with Gabriel" SIR?? Reason with the council's attack dog???? Because lets be honest thats how Gabriel was prior to his realisation)

Meanwhile Sisyphus is very much not unsympathetic, nor is he cold, he was simply more realistic in his thinking, he was right to believe that a violent revolution was the best chance they had to overcoming their opressors, and honestly if his army wasnt inexperienced they might have actually succeded.

Minos's work was impressive, his ability to revolutionise the lust layer into a habitable space, but that space only would have lasted if heaven was gone out of the picture.

In fact the game shows that Sisyphus was right, seeing as once Gabriel realises how horrible heaven is and realises how horrible his own actions are (only after V1 beats his ass twice and he gets practically cast out of heaven lmao) whos actions does he mirror the most?

Not Minos

But Sisyphus

Gabriel upon his realisation, goes up to heaven, and kills the council, holding the head of one of the councellers up for all of heaven to see

The very thing Sisyphus wished but was unable to do.

So why

Why would anyone think that Sisyphus is less sympathetic than Minos when NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING in the game frames him that way?

Weeeeeeell

Minos is a white man who started a peaceful revolution (which mind you he could only do due to his position of privledge as a judge of hell and luck)

Sisyphus is a brown man that started a violent revolution (which we are show was the right thing to do!!! They only failed because inexperience)

(Context, we only know their race due to potraits hidden in their repective layers back when they still had their human bodies. When you meet them they do still share resemblence but they kinda look like constructs of light. Sisyphus still has his dreadlocks in his prime soul form, tho funnily enough he only gains back his hair and beard back in his second phase of the fight)

(Wait, i almost forgot, Sisyphus is also voiced by a black voice actor)

(Just saying this in case you get curious and search up what these guys look like)

Im not saying people who think Sisyphus is less sympathetic are racist, but that they might have unconscious biases that have coloured their view of him

Because, again, Gabriel does what Sisyphus wishes to have done, but hes not viewed as less sympathetic for taking the violent route. Perhaps thats because we see Gabriel's character arc unfold before us as the acts progress, ... or maybe because Gabriel despite lacking race as an angel still has a white voice actor and is therefore seen as white (im not pulling this out of my ass, gjinkas usually potray him as white), his actions are not seen the same way as Sisyphus's

Siiiiighhh, at least this does not seem to be the majority opinion? Not on tumblr at least, I just saw some people complain about this treatment being commmon in video essays, not believing it because how could you ever think Sisyphusis unsympathetic?, but then watching a video essay myself and being met with someone saying Sisyphus is colder and less sympathetic as if "child of man" isnt the most warm way anyone has adressed V1

Anyway ultrakill is a cool game i highly reccomend playing it or watching a ftiend whos good at video games play it (which is what i did because i am certainly not good at video games)

Or watch OhNoItsTusk's playthough because he's one of the few people who i have seen play the game and pay attention to the story

And he has plyed the full game, the playlist on his channel just doesnt have all of the videos for some reason

i dont know annnyy thing about this game AT ALL so. uh. happy for u. or sorry all that happened fsdfdsf. anyway i might not know shit about whatever ur talking about but I AM willing to say people who think sisyphus is less sympathetic are being racist. just on principle i think :)

[the-muffin-master]

When a clown moves into a palace, he doesn't become king. The palace becomes a circus.

I mentioned my tav's "bad ending" in a previous post, so now's the time to learn more about the consequences of their actions!

DISCLAIMER: I'm gonna talk about zyra's character regression (is that what you'd call going backwards in their arc / development?) and their awful, terrible codependent relationship with AA under the cut. if this makes you uncomfortable, I advise you to skip this post!

a big part of their character development is finding out who they are outside of seeking revenge for their friend's death -- what's the face behind the mask, so to speak. in their bad end, they regress back into the role of court jester, throwing out that entire arc. this extends to their relationship with (ascended) astarion, who they start calling "my Lord" / "my liege" from that point on

basically, think of the inherent queerness between a villain and his loyal henchman! boss and employee power imbalance included lol

when the crown's entity takes over, it can be a struggle to get zyra back into their own body. AA's powers can easily override the possession, but he enjoys watching them fight it off on their own sometimes (he's a sadistic piece of shit)

once zyra successfully subdues the crown, pitch black tears run down their face from all the effort, and that's how AA knows they're back. in a twisted way, it's a reassuring sight for astarion, since it means he doesn't have to worry about zyra betraying him

I've nicknamed this specific version of bloodsong "sanguine rhapsody", the immortal bond forged between a vampire ascendant and a mad jester 🦇 🤡 lust and manipulation, devotion and sacrifice. they're the only ones who can match each other's freak (derogatory)

I'm sorry this is so tragic and dark LOL I prefer drawing their healthy relationship (where astarion remains a spawn), but writing AA is a fun change of pace for me! I've been rotating this post in my mind lately, it almost sounded like a challenge...

also -- if the other companions already DESTROY ascended astarion in their act 3 party banter, can you imagine how they'd react to this

I need you to understand how morbidly fascinated I am by the concept of mad jester zyra being just as detrimental to AA's descent into madness as he is to their own. the fear of losing each other was so suffocating these two were willing to risk it all AND SURE ENOUGH IT TOOK EVERYTHING FROM THEM

(I EXPLODE INTO CONFETTI)

if you've read this far, I assume you're ok with this dysfunctional relationship, so... I recently replayed a bit of my AA save file and that "I can't wait to taste your lips after you've tasted me" line about drinking each other's blood lives in my head rent free

is it still called "snowballing" if it's blood? I'm asking the real questions. ok last thing do you think I can avoid the tumblr censors with this DON'T TELL THE STAFF

what about this one

[piercethenix]

a very long list of sleep token lyrics that make me feel more religious than i ever did at church

"wont you come and dance in the dark with me? show me what you are i am desperate to know"

"im coiled up like a venomous serpent tangled in your trance and im certain you have got your hooks in me"

"and i dont wanna get in your way but i finally think i can say that the vicious cycle was over the moment you smiled at me"

"and i know i know the way that it goes you get what you give, you reap what you sow and i can see you in my fate. and i know i know i am what i am the mouth of the wolf the eyes of the lamb so darling, will you saturate?"

"lets load the gun. make her eat the tape in the bathroom mirror see if she can guess what a hollow point does to a naked body"

"so flood me like atlantic, weather me to nothing. wash away the blood on my hands"

YOU MAKE ME WISH I COULD DISAPPEARRRRR

"and just like the rain you cast the dust into nothing and wash out the salt from my hands. so touch me again, i feel my shadow dissolving"

"they talk me through the damage, consequence and how its a pain they know they dont understand"

"when the mouth of infinity buries its teeth in me, ill smile through the agony for you. and i know you still bear the weight of your own existence and youll never bear the weight of two"

"well, i know what you want from me. you want someone to be your reflection, your bitter deception setting you free. so take what you want and leave"

"rose gold chains, ripped lace, cut glass, blood stains on the collar, please just dont ask"

"give in again and let me lay, my arms belong around you"

"i come as a blade, a sacred guardian. so you keep me sharp and test my worth in blood"

"id turn my walls to gold to bring you home again"

SO SHOW ME THAT WHICH I CANNOT SEE EVEN IF IT HURTS ME EVEN IF I CANT SLEEP OH AND THOUGH WE ACT OUT OF OUR HOLY DUTY TO BE CONSTANTLY AWAAAKKEEEE YOUVE GOT ME IN A CHOKEHOLD

"and im not here to be the savior you long for, only the one you dont. are you watching me with eyes of a predator as you move towards the door?"

"show me those pretty white jaws show me where the delicate stops show me what youve lost and why youre always taking it slow show me what wounds youve got show me love"

"i am the shadow, youre a passenger. i am the intake of breath so sharp and i know you better. just want to know you better"

"if you want to give then give me all that you can give all your darkest impules and if you want to give me anything then give give in again"

"ill tear the fibre from the filamemt, ill be the limit of your light again. i want to taste you better i want to taste you better. i will be watching for your enemies, to let them know that they contend with me"

"between the second hand smoke and the glass on the street you gave me nothing whatsoever but a reason to leave. you say you want me but you know im not what you need but i am"

IF YOU HAD A PROBLEM THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME BEFORE YOU STARTED GETTING ALL AGGRESSIVE AND CONTROLLING YOU ONLY DRINK THE WATER WHEN YOU THINK ITS HOLY SO KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD OR WE WILL BOTH BE HERE FOREVERRRR

"nevermind the death threats parting at the door wed rather be six feet under than be lonely"

WHY ARE YOU NEEEEVERR REAL THE SHIFTING STATES YOU FOLLOW ME THROUGH UNNNREVEALED

"yet in reverse you are all my symmetry, a parallel i would lay my life on. so if your wings wont find you heaven i will bring it down like an ancient bygone"

"i know for the last time, you will not be mine. so give me the night, the night, the night"

"and i hate who i have become (i might break and bend to my basic need to be loved and close to somebody)"

"most days you reach for safety. remain calm, forget that you know me"

DARLING IM NOTICING YOUR FLAWS THEYRE EXACTLY WHAT I WANT EVEN IF YOU DONT BELIEVE ME, KNOW IT

"it seems your heart is locked up and i still get the combination wrong. or are you simply waiting to save your love for someone i am not?"

"is that a glint in your eye? is that a blade in your palm? well, i am yours tonight so will you lay in my arms?"

"i want to feel my stars align again, even if the earth breaks like burnt skin and the heavens just wont open up for me. would you invite me in again? wont you pay for your arrogance? wont you show me your weakness?"