#like he’s just guilty about killing her

[lucifermorningstxr]

"Because I killed a human, Detective. Angels can't take a mortal life. Dad's rules. And even though Pierce, Cain, was cursed with immortality, he was still effectively human." Lucifer spoke with a factual vulnerability, the honesty he always possessed present as ever as his true guilt about all of it was worn clear as day on his sleeve, or rather on his face. Nonetheless, he smiled into Chloe's touch all the same. She was right, his actions had saved her, and he'd do it again and again, all for her. "I know, Detective. And you're right. The funny thing is," he softly adjusted himself on top of her, "there was a while there he wanted me to kill him. To end his endless punishment. To spite dear old Dad and all that. But when it came time to actually finish him off, all to protect you, I still made myself a monster. Even so, through it all, if there's one thing I'm never guilty about, it's protecting you. Doing anything to protect you. Because you deserve it, Detective." Lucifer had lost track of how many times he'd resisted the urge to kiss Chloe tonight alone, but this moment was one of them. Thinking back on everything theyve been through, all that they've overcome, and all the bad guys they've bested together, it all made him a sentimental Devil, one craving affection with his human. But that would all have to wait, so he'd just ease himself more onto her. "You shouldn't have had a problem putting down Malcolm after everything he'd done. I didn't think I had any issue putting down Pierce, Dr. Martin and I have discussed that perhaps I even liked it... but I suppose I still felt like a monster anyway. Whatever the case, if the worse thing that happens is I give myself my face back, it's a small price to pay for saving you. Something I truly have no regrets about whatsoever, all else be damned. Even me."

"Yes it is, Detective." Lucifer smiled, further losing himself in Chloe's eyes as he watched her finally put it all together. That day was really painful for the both of them, both literally and figuratively, and was the start of a seriously dangerous eight-month rift between them, but even so, the memory of his protection of her in that moment made him incredibly proud. It didn't matter how much his wings bled as long as he got Chloe out of there safe and sound, which he did. "Apparently, I lose my Devil face when I'm not feeling genuine guilt or remorse, but it came back because that day was the first time I'd killed a human. I self-actualised my monster that day, and you know I'd do it again if it meant saving you. I'd do anything to save you, Detective. To protect you." He leaned into her touch, feeling vulnerability and pride all in one, a cocktail only afforded by his favourite human.

[lilmisshellfireswritingblog]

The Prophecy Chapter 1: A Greater Woman Wouldn't Beg

Summary: After the death of her husband, Aurelia must make a decision to either die or marry the new ruler of Rome.

Warnings: 18+, talks of execution, talks of murder, Rome is in chaos, Lucius being Lucius, nothing too crazy right now

A/N: Hello! I decided to name the OC but honestly, you can replace her name with your name if you want to be a reader insert. It doesn't matter. Art is flexible. Anyway, this is for fun, not historically accurate. Also not bet read or proofread but I write for fun. Hope you enjoy! Separator banner credit to: sweetmelodygraphics.

Aurelia had been standing on the balcony of her chambers in the imperial palace, her thoughts consumed by the heavy, oppressive silence that had fallen over Rome. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and crimson, but she didn’t notice the beauty. She hadn’t noticed much of anything for days. The death of Geta—her husband—had shattered her world. The sudden violence, the brutal murder of both Geta and Caracalla, had left her numb.

The door to her chambers had crashed open, and there they were—storming in, their swords drawn. Aurelia's body had gone cold at the sight of them.

She had tried to flee the guards. Tried to run. Tried to make it out of the palace before they could seize her, but the soldiers were fast, their hands grasping her wrists and dragging her back as if she were a criminal.

There had been no mercy for the widow of an emperor.

The next thing she knew, she had been thrown into the cold, damp cell, the iron bars of the tiny window casting a faint shadow on the stone floor. She had fought them, of course, her pride burning like fire in her veins. She had called out for help, for someone—anyone—to come to her aid but no one had come. No one would come.  Not even the guards at the door, who she had once known, now looked at her with suspicion and fear, as if her very blood made her guilty by association.

She had spent days in that cell. Alone. Hungry. The flickering light from the torch outside the bars offered little comfort, and the cold stone walls pressed against her, making it hard to breathe. There was a part of her that wanted to give in to despair, to let herself curl into the shadows and forget everything—forget who she was, forget what had happened. But she wouldn’t. She couldn't.

The door to the cell creaked open, and Aurelia’s sharp, ice-blue eyes snapped up. For a moment, she thought she had imagined it, but then the figure stepped inside. A man in a dark toga, his face unreadable, his eyes cold. Aurelia’s stomach churned. The new emperor, Lucius Verus, stood before her now.

He wasn’t what she had expected. Lucius, the gladiator, the son of Lucilla, now the ruler of Rome. She had heard whispers in the halls—how he had killed Macrinus, how he had taken the throne in the wake of the murders. She had never imagined he would come for her, never imagined he would see her so low, so utterly powerless.

He surveyed her silently, his piercing blue eyes studying her as though she were an object of curiosity, something to be analyzed.

“You’re still alive,” he said finally, his voice low but commanding. “I had thought the guards would’ve killed you by now.”

Aurelia remained seated on the cold stone floor, her knees drawn up to her chest. She didn’t answer him immediately, just glared at him with defiance, her back straight despite the pain in her muscles.

“You were married to Geta,” he continued, the faintest hint of disgust flickering in his gaze. “It seems the Senate is unsure what to do with you. You’ve been a widow for only a few days and already they want to… settle this matter.”

Her lip curled in a bitter smile. "Settle what matter?" she spat, her voice hoarse but sharp. "You think this is about some matter? The Senate will decide my fate like I'm some common criminal, won't they? Just like Macrinus decided my husband's fate. My brother-in-law's fate."

Lucius gave a slight nod, though he didn’t look sympathetic. “The Senate is divided. Some say you should be put to death, to cleanse the last remnants of the old regime. Others suggest you may have been complicit in your husband’s death. After all, it was your family’s legacy that fell with Geta.”

She scoffed. “Complicit? You think I had a hand in killing my own husband?”

“I don’t know,” Lucius said quietly. “But that’s not my decision to make.”

He paused, and Aurelia could feel his gaze on her like a weight pressing down on her chest.

“I have come to offer you a choice,” Lucius continued, his tone cold, detached. “You will be tried in front of the Senate, but I’ve decided to intervene. You’re… valuable, despite the chaos surrounding you. You are the widow of an emperor. You have connections to the old regime and some factions within the Senate believe your marriage to me would solidify Rome’s future.”

Aurelia’s eyes narrowed. Her pulse quickened, the confusion and bitterness swirling in her chest. “Marriage to you?” She laughed, though the sound was bitter. “So now you want to use me too? Use my name, my blood, my title? Is that it, Lucius? Is that how you plan to secure your throne?”

Lucius stepped closer, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the cell. His eyes were as cold as the stone walls surrounding them.

“It’s not my plan,” he said, his voice low. “It’s Rome’s plan. I am offering you a way out, Aurelia. A chance to live. To keep your dignity intact.”

“Dignity?” she hissed, her eyes flashing with anger. “Do you think I care about dignity? Death would preserve my dignity more than marrying you to secure your throne, to put another puppet on the imperial seat? To sit beside you like some obedient wife?”

Aurelia stood, her body trembling with rage, her fists clenched at her sides.

“I never wanted this!” she shouted, her voice rising. “I never wanted to be a pawn. My marriage to Geta was a nightmare and now you want me to marry another emperor?”

Lucius regarded her quietly, as if studying her fury with the detachment of a strategist. “The Senate does not care about your wants or needs, Aurelia. They care about power. They care about stability. If you do not marry me, they will find another way to dispose of you. If you do not marry me, you will be executed.”

She swallowed, her throat tight, her pulse roaring in her ears. He was right, of course.

Lucius watched her carefully, his gaze unwavering. “You may not like it. You may not want it. But you have one choice: death… or marriage to me.”

Aurelia's heart pounded in her chest, the weight of the decision pressing down on her with crushing force. She looked at him, then looked down at the cold stone floor beneath her feet. The choice before her was cruel, stark, and suffocating.

She could die. Die with her dignity intact, die with her pride as the last remnant of her old life.

Or she could marry him.

Marry a man who had come to power through bloodshed and violence. Marry a man who didn’t love her, who would never love her.

The silence between them stretched, long and heavy. 

"I'll think about it," she said finally, her voice low, almost broken. It was all she could say. Because the choice wasn’t hers to make. Not really.

Lucius inclined his head, his face unreadable. "Take your time. The Senate expects an answer soon."

And with that, he turned and left the cell, leaving Aurelia alone in the darkness, the weight of her decision already pressing down on her like the chains of fate.

The grand hall of the Senate was filled with the murmurs of Roman senators, their voices a low hum of power and fear. The marble columns stretched high, reaching up into the vast ceiling, echoing the weight of centuries of rule. The Senate chamber, once a place of noble discourse and decision, now felt cold and suffocating to Aurelia. It had always been a room of intrigue, but today, it was a room of judgment.

Aurelia stood at the center of the chamber, her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor. Her heart beat loudly in her chest, a sharp drum in the silence. She could feel the eyes of the entire Senate on her, watching, scrutinizing, waiting.

She had been brought here under guard, her wrists bound in chains, but even now, they were nothing more than a symbol. She was a prisoner. A prisoner of Rome, of the Senate, of her own fate.

Behind her, the throne was empty.

The throne her late husband had sat in.

 Lucius Venus had not arrived yet.

The murmurs grew louder as the senators took their seats, each one wearing their finely crafted tunics, their faces a mixture of indifference, curiosity, and judgment. The men of the Senate had always been ruthless in their pursuit of power and the death of Caracalla and Geta had left the empire vulnerable. Macrinus and his plot had sent Rome into chaos. 

For the Senate,  it was not about justice—it was about control. Aurelia was a relic of the old regime, an obstacle, and now she was to be disposed of. But in what way? In what way could they control her? 

The doors to the Senate chamber opened with a heavy thud, silencing the room instantly. Lucius Venus, now Emperor of Rome, entered. His piercing blue eyes scanned the room, his expression unreadable as he moved to the center of the floor. His presence was undeniable. The senators, who had once ruled Rome, now watched him with a mixture of respect and fear. The gladiator turned emperor was an anomaly, a force to be reckoned with.

Lucius ascended to the platform, standing beside the podium where Aurelia was forced to kneel. The contrast between them was stark. He stood tall, composed, his posture regal despite his origins. Aurelia, on the other hand, knelt on the cold marble floor in silence, her eyes still lowered.

A low, deliberate murmur passed through the Senate as Lucius raised his hand to silence them.

"Senators of Rome," Lucius’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. “We are gathered here today not to deliberate on the future of this empire, but to settle a matter that will define the future of Rome itself. The widow of the late Emperor Geta, Aurelia Carina Cassia, stands before you today as both a symbol and a question. A symbol of the old Rome, the old blood, and a question of loyalty. The question of whether we allow the remnants of the past to threaten our future.”

Aurelia felt her pulse quicken at his words, her mind racing. A question of loyalty? She hadn’t asked for this. She hadn’t asked to be married off to Lucius, nor had she asked to be placed in the center of this political struggle. But here she was, forced into this trial, caught between the old regime and the new one.

Lucius turned his gaze toward her, and for a moment, their eyes met. His gaze was cool and distant, but there was something more beneath it—something she couldn’t quite grasp. For a fleeting second, she thought she saw a trace of sympathy in his eyes, but it vanished almost immediately.

“You stand accused of complicity in the deaths of Emperor Geta and his brother, Caracalla,” Lucius continued, his voice echoing through the chamber. “It is said that you, as the wife of Geta, played a part in the conspiracy that led to their deaths. Do you deny this, Aurelia?”

Her voice was steady, though it trembled with the weight of the question. “I deny it. It was Macrinus. I saw it…”

There was a murmur in the room at her response, some senators exchanging glances, others looking down at their scrolls in preparation for the next statement. Lucius didn’t seem surprised. His expression remained impassive as he looked back at the senators.

“The Senate will now deliberate,” Lucius said, gesturing for the first speaker to approach.

An older senator, his face lined with the marks of years of manipulation and power, stood and addressed the assembly with a voice that held no softness.

"Empress Aurelia, you have been a figurehead of the old regime. Whether or not you directly plotted the deaths of Geta and Caracalla is immaterial. You were Geta’s wife. You were complicit in their actions, and you knew the risks of such alliances." His words were harsh, accusatory, but there was no fury in them—just a cold, calculated desire to secure his place in the new order.

“You are a widow. We understand the grief of losing a husband, but you should know better than anyone that this is not a matter of emotion. This is a matter of stability for Rome. Your presence here is a threat. Your family’s bloodline is a reminder of a Rome that no longer serves its purpose.”

Aurelia’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. The senator’s words hit her like a blow, and yet, she held her ground. Stability for Rome? What was the point of Rome without love, without people who truly cared for the well-being of its citizens?

“Empress, the Senate proposes that you be executed for your role in this treason,” the senator continued. “For the good of the empire.”

Her heart pounded, but she did not flinch. This was not about her. This was about politics. This was about control. They would say anything to justify their thirst for power.

Another senator rose, younger than the first, with a look of thinly veiled disdain on his face. He glanced at Aurelia with a slight sneer.

“Though I do not fully support the accusations of complicity, the death of two emperors and the subsequent collapse of their line cannot be ignored,” he said. “Her very existence challenges the new order of the empire. If she is not put to death, then what is to prevent others from following her path? I suggest we put the question to the emperor: If not death, then marriage. Let her be a bride to the new emperor, a tool to bring the people of Rome together, to prevent further dissent. What better way to silence any rumors of betrayal than to unite her with Emperor Lucius?”

The words struck Aurelia like a blow to the chest. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt her knees tremble slightly as the full weight of the situation pressed down on her.

Lucius stood silently beside her, his gaze fixed ahead. She could feel him watching her, his presence a constant reminder that, even in this moment of supposed judgment, he was the one who held the final say. He had given her the choice before, but now it seemed to be a cruel trap—a way to dispose of her without the bloodshed that would come with execution. A way to use her as a pawn, to bind her to him, to secure his claim to the throne.

Aurelia’s voice, though barely a whisper, broke through the growing tension in the room. “You think marriage to him will erase everything?” she spat, her eyes now blazing with anger. “You think that will make me a loyal subject of Rome, after everything you’ve done?”

Lucius’s gaze turned toward her, his expression unreadable. He said nothing, but the weight of his presence seemed to fill the room. His silence spoke volumes. Aurelia knew that, in the end, her fate would be decided by him.

The senators shifted uneasily, waiting for his verdict.

Finally, Lucius raised his hand, his voice cutting through the tension.

“Enough,” he said, his tone firm. “The Senate has spoken. I offer Aurelia the choice of her fate: death, or marriage to me. If she chooses to live, she will be bound to me, not only as my wife but as the symbol of the stability I will bring to Rome. And if she chooses death…” He paused, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he turned away. “So be it.”

Aurelia looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and sorrow. This was it. This was the end of everything. Her heart, which had once been full of hope and love, now felt empty, hollow.

Her life would never be her own again.

The Senate waited. The room held its breath.

And Aurelia was forced to make a choice.

“Give me an hour and I will give my answer to Emperor Lucius myself,” Aurelia says. “You’ll have your answer no later or no earlier than that.”

Aurelia stood before the great marble columns of the Imperial Palace, the cold stone pressing against her back as if it could steady her trembling bones. Her mind raced, her heart a fluttering bird caught in a cage. Everything that had happened in the last few days felt like a blur—a dream, perhaps, or a nightmare. The death of Geta and Caracalla. The rise of Macrinus and his ultimate betrayal. And now, the demand to marry Lucius Verus.

The Senate had spoken. The Emperors had been murdered, and the city of Rome was in turmoil. But it was Lucius, not the Senate, who now held power. He was the son of Lucilla, and by blood, he had the right to rule. And yet… he was not the one who had killed Geta and Caracalla. The murder had been orchestrated by Macrinus, but now, the world had spun into chaos, and Rome needed stability.

And so, the question had been asked.

Would she marry Lucius Verus to solidify his claim to the throne? Or would she die just because she was the wife of the previous emperor? 

Was she lucky to even had the choice?

The air in the room was thick with expectation. The door behind her creaked as it opened, and Aurelia didn’t need to turn to know who stood there. She could feel his presence as if it were a tangible thing, heavy like the weight of the empire itself.

Lucius Verus.

The man who was now the Emperor of Rome, not by his own doing, but by circumstance. The gladiator who had risen from the sands of the arena, who had fought for his freedom only to be forced into the throne by the whims of a crumbling empire.

“Do you know why I am here, Aurelia?” His voice was deep, steady, but there was an undercurrent of something she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps a sense of duty. Or perhaps… uncertainty.

She didn’t turn to face him immediately, though she could hear the soft echo of his footsteps as he crossed the room. It felt almost like a finality. She could already hear the whispers of the Senate, the people, the court.

It was already decided.

Turning slowly, she met his gaze, her eyes steady. He stood confident with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to always know more than they should. Today, however, there was something else in them, something that perhaps even he didn’t understand: a flicker of vulnerability.

“I know why you are here, Lucius,” Aurelia replied, her voice cold, controlled. “You want your answer. I promised you that in the senate this morning.”

She didn’t let her anger spill over, though it burned at the edges of her words. Instead, she forced herself to focus, to look at him as though this were just another political arrangement, another moment where she could maintain control. She was used to power plays—she had been married to Geta, after all. But this… this felt different.

Lucius’s expression softened, as if her words had stung, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he took another step closer, lowering his voice.

“No one is forcing you, Aurelia,” he said. “You still have a choice. I won’t have you marrying me out of fear. It’s not just your life at stake now. The future of Rome is as well.”

Her eyes flashed with a mixture of disbelief and bitterness. “And you think I care about Rome’s future? Rome’s future died with my husband. And my brother-in-law.” Her voice cracked, but she quickly regained control.

Lucius watched her silently, his jaw clenched. He could see the weight of grief in her eyes, the anger—familiar, raw, the same kind of anger that had been in his own heart when he first stepped into the Senate after the deaths of Caracalla and Geta. He had learned to control it, to channel it into something else. For Aurelia, that was still a battle she hadn’t won.

“You’re angry,” Lucius said softly, almost as though he were stating a fact. “I understand that. But if you don’t marry me, Rome will spiral into chaos. This empire needs unity. It needs strength. I can give that to it, if you help me.”

“And you think you can just take this position, Lucius?” Aurelia snapped, stepping forward, her hand gripping the edge of the table in front of her. “This is not something you can simply inherit. This marriage is a farce. You think Rome will rally behind the son of Lucilla? A man who was raised in Numidia, a gladiator, forced into the games, used as nothing more than a pawn?”

His gaze flickered, but he didn’t move. “I am not a pawn and neither are you, Aurelia.”

She scoffed bitterly, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “Aren’t I? Tell me—what happens to me if I refuse? Do you execute me in front of the Senate? Do you have me dragged through the streets like a common criminal? Because that is all I am, isn’t it? A widow with no place in this empire.”

Lucius’s expression darkened for a moment. There was no cruelty in his eyes—no harshness—but there was a kind of desperation there, buried just beneath the surface. His voice was low, steady, but there was an edge to it now, an urgency she hadn’t expected.

“I will not kill you,” he said. “However if you don’t marry me, the Senate will see you as a threat. You know that as well as I do. They’ll find a way to dispose of you. If not through execution, then through a thousand other means. I’m trying to protect you and Rome.”

Her eyes narrowed, studying him carefully. She had always been good at reading people—good at seeing through their facades, their masks. But Lucius was different. His words, his actions, his very presence were all so… contradictory. There was something about him that felt real. Something that felt honest. He wasn’t just playing a role. He was truly trying to protect her—and Rome—but at what cost?

And that was the question she had to answer now.

Aurelia looked down at her hands, fingers trembling slightly as she worked to control her emotions. There was no real choice, was there? Either she married him, or she died. Either she helped Lucius rule Rome or die, erased from history.

There was something else in her mind. A flicker of realization. If she married Lucius, she would remain at his side—able to influence his decisions, to perhaps steer him away from the path that had already been carved out for him. If she married him, she could still be somebody in this empire. She could still matter.

“Why me?” she asked, her voice quiet now, softer than she intended. “Why not someone else? Someone who truly loves you, who wants to share this life with you?”

Lucius hesitated, his gaze steady, and for a moment, Aurelia could have sworn she saw a flicker of something deeper, something more intimate.

“Because you are the empress of Rome,” he said simply. “And despite everything that has happened, you have strength. More than anyone else in this empire. I need that strength by my side.”

The words hit her like a stone. Strength. Not love. Not affection. But strength.

And yet, in that moment, Aurelia knew what she had to do. There was no escape. No retreat. She could fight it all she wanted, but the only path forward was through him.

“Fine,” she said, her voice flat. “I will marry you. But don’t think for a second that I will ever love you. Not like I loved Geta. And not like you want me to.”

Lucius’s expression softened, but there was no joy in it, no relief. He merely nodded, as if he had expected her answer, but it did not lessen the weight of it.

As he stepped forward to place a hand on her shoulder—an uncertain gesture—Aurelia stood still, rigid, her eyes hard, her heart closed off.

Rome had taken everything from her.

And now it had taken her heart, too.

[perplecta]

With the small information I got from lol lore Viktor was frustrated with the Academy stealing and erasing his accomplishments and researching.

It bothers me the worst way that he did the same with Sky.

After inadvertently causing her death (and leaving space for questioning if he really regrets what he has done to her or just feels guilty for causing collateral damage), Viktor acknowledges her research, her goals, her dreams BUT he takes Sky's notes and builds the commune (his problematic version of her dream for Zaun) and Viktor never never never gives Sky credit for that.

Most people think all of that came from Viktor's mind or Hexcore, many people don't know about Sky botanical studies bc writers erased her into whatever she turned out and Viktor never spoke to anyone about her again. He created his own legacy out of taking credit for Sky's work and no other characters know or care about her.

If Viktor ever felt guilty about her he should also feel guilty for stealing and erasing her.

What brings my greatest complain about how writers did with Viktor and Sky relationship: Viktor ultimately treats Sky with the same prejudice he faced from Piltover, ignoring and exploiting and abusing and killing her twice.

It doesn't bring a good view on Viktor that he could only form deep meaningful bonds with Piltover like Jayce and Singled. How could he wish to help zaunite people if he wasn't able to respect and bond with them and was always desperate yearning for Piltover recognition with such internalized prejudice against his own background?

The problem is that his words and actions don't agree.

So yeah I hate" love save the universe" end of Arcane, bc Viktor never really learned to love himself or others

[mehiwilldoitlater]

No pressure but really liked the yandere macaque so what if reader was found by some miracle by DO or by someone else and had escaped the mountain what could Macaque do then🤨

You thought that after the torture, the Kills, and the so many bodies, you would finally get used to the violence, that in the end you had at least enough stomach to not throw up. Instead, while he was holding the severed head of another monkey, with his annoyed face that seemed like the one of a parent that is scolding his child, you had to put your hands on your mouth to resist.

"So," he said, with a calmness that made you shiver, "should I know something about this young one?"

Your eyes Met those two orbs, now completely drained from their life. You averted that gaze, feeling your guts moving and contorting in your body. He stopped closer, moving that head to the left and right.

"He was roaming not far from her... saying something about searching for the Lost One... and about some message..."

You started to shiver uncontrollably; the knowledge struck you like thunder. He looked at you, sighing, reminiscing about how easy it was to see how ready you were.

"May I know something about it? ...Have you sent some message around?... Did you?" He kept that head high ,treating it more like something trivial, as a broken vase, not what was left of a living being. You tried to cower in the corner, trying to not look at it, to not smell the blood, or hear it dripping on the floor. You felt his grip on your stump, a bad habit that he had when he started to get angrier, harshly twisting you around, forcing you to stand closer to the head and to face him and your own actions.

"I'm talking to you! Answer me, did you or did you not send a message?!"

"YES! YES! I'M SORRY, PLEASE, I'M SORRY!"

You tried to cover yourself with your good arm, afraid of some kind of repercussion. Instead, he just sighed, and after a loud thump, the head that was thrown away, he gently guided you into his arms, caressing your shoulders, comforting you in that sorry state. You didn't dare to even lament yourself in your cry; you were too afraid to even make a sound.

"I know, Draling... I know you're sorry... I know you hate this thing... but I have to..."

His voice was sweet like honey and soft like a breeze, and everything seemed so wrong on your ears, and yet you kept listening to his words.

"I can't let them hurt you... and I can't let you leave... the more you try to run, the more I have to kill them; do you understand?"

He spoke as if he were talking with a child that had made a mistake or misbehaved. It was his trick, tripping and guilting you to make you believe that it was your own responsibility if he had killed every kind of monkey that had tried to rescue you or even crossed those mountains. You even started to believe those lies.

"That's why you must stop sending messages...stop trying to get away from me...understand?"

You nodded; your hiccups were stuck in your throat and made you jump here and there, or it was his hands that were roaming too far?

"You must feel so bad... Let me take care of you..."

And while he kissed your neck, you started to zoom away in your thoughts. It was easy that way.

///

Every time he left, you used those moments to find a way to escape. You thought that, if you were lucky enough, you would be able to get as far away from him, cover your tracks, and maybe be able to find some help.

Then you lost your arm, and then he started to bring dead people that had found your messages...

You stopped; those moments were made now for something else. You liked to stay in the grass, alone with your thoughts and the soft wind on your skin. You preferred to close your eyes.

It was easy like that, to imagine being so far away from that nightmare. And, like that, you could pretend to sleep, and, at his arrival, he would just take you back to your bed and leave you be.

You hated his kindness. It felt wrong, used to make you feel guilty about your resistance to his love. But even the idea of loving him was just wrong...

You didn't want to love him, but what if giving in was your only way to finally stop the pain?

Abandon yourself to him... Maybe it was easier that way...maybe it was the only way...

When you felt a pair of steps coming closer to you, a sigh escaped to your left. He had come back sooner than the others. Days, he must have found food quite easy this time...but...what was that?

You kept your eyes closed, and yet you wanted so badly to open them up. You felt a rush of adrenaline, like a calling. Your heart pounded in your chest...was that a panic attack?! No, no. It was different! You still could breathe correctly!

Was that another of his tricks?! No, it didn't seem like that...

And this feeling seemed familiar... When did you feel it before?

You decided to finally open up your eyes, and when you did, you felt like a warm wind had rushed towards you.

Instead of those black pitch eyes, you met a pair of brown and warm eyes; they seemed gentle and ready to start a fire at every second. His ragged clothes moved with the small breeze, showing the many signs of struggle that he just endured climbing the mountain, fighting the demons and monsters. A brown chocolate fur, a few scars and cuts here and there...

You met him before... the day that you realized that the Macaque had lied to you.

He had found you,After months from your first encounter, he had found you! The first time he saw you and the macaque, he knew something was wrong, especially since he had found out your role in this story.

He was searching for you even before actually meeting you, sensing your presence on these lands; the calling of his Destiny resonated with yours.

And then you had disappeared again... No, the macaque made you disappear, holding you away from whoever tried to rescue you. The many heads on pikes that he had encountered along the road were quite the message...

But now that he was there, in front of you, all of the fear and thoughts were gone. What really mattered was that he had found you at least.

He made one step ahead in your direction, and suddenly you awoke from that trance. The images of the many monkeys killed by your captor came like a cold wave. No, he wasn't supposed to be here! 

In one move, you rose up and started to walk away as fast as you could, trying to reach the house.

"WAIT!" His voice followed you like a prey; his bare feet resounded behind you, "Don't go! Please, I'm here for you!"

"Stay away!" You try to control your voice: "You can't stay here; go away!"

"I can't! I've been searching for you for so long! He had taken you away and—

"I know what he did! Now leave me be!"

"Stop! Look at me at least!"

He had reached you, and his hand tried to grasp yours to hold you and stop you, but he felt nothing.

In his fingers, he didn't feel your warmth or your flesh, only air and the fabric of your robe.

You felt his grasp only when the sudden pulling of your sleeve made the hand slip from your shoulder, revealing, still covered in bandages, the clean cut of your arm. The macaque had ripped it off from your body, and to save you from infections, he had to cut the damaged tissues and use a piece of red-hot iron to cauterize. And he was kind enough to let you sleep while he fixed the damage that you have done by denying your love for him.

"...what...what is..." His confusion met your look, and a river of ideas came when he saw those pitiful eyes. You tried to cover your mouth, feeling tears coming in your eyes, full of shock from the fact that he had seen what the macaque did to you. He let go of your sleeve, looking at your good arm holding your trembling body, and attempted to calm you down from what had happened. You didn't dare to look at him; you wanted just to hide in that house and never come out in fear of being seen again.

He didn't need to hear you; he was smart enough to know what he had seen and to understand that your reaction was connected to your injury. 

"Did he do this to you?"

A small movement in your shoulder was a clear response. 

He felt a fire in his chest, diacamping in his veins like a poison. His breath became heavier, and his hands squeezed to the point that the knuckles had turned white. He felt a growl trying to escape from his chest.

The macaque did this to you... He had hurt someone who had no fighting skills, and the monkey knew that he did it because you had done something that the macaque had disliked.

Maybe it was the connection with the Bián Huá, but even you were still now a total stranger; he felt a deep sense of hunger for what had just happened to you.

He was furious, and he felt shame for not being able to protect you. Now, he wanted nothing more than to crack open the head of that macaque.

But seeing you like that made him remember that he wasn't there for him. He took a big breath, trying to calm down a little...his face turned back to a gentle one.

"...I'm...Sorry... I wanted to meet for so long... Tell me how I can help you!"

"I don't need your help!" You were fighting with every being of yourself to speak without crumbling, "I need you to leave before he comes back!"

You wanted to believe that you were used to the pain and the fact that many had died because of you, but you were a terrible liar. You wanted to be strong enough, cold enough, maybe an insensible bastard, but no, you had to feel all of the guilt. And this connection between you and this monkey, you felt that if anything was going to happen to him, that would have been your breaking point.

But he... he knew that he would have never forgiven himself for leaving you behind.

"I can't just leave you like this!"

"Please," you begged now, "if he comes back and finds you, he'll... he'll kill you! I can't... I can't take it anymore... Please leave!"

So it was this? You feared that he couldn't handle the macaque?  In some way he should have felt his pride hurt, but in the way that you were saying that there was nothing of it.  All those monkeys killed on the road, all of them came for you, and he had made sure that you felt responsible...

"I'll leave," he said with some determination, "but you have to tell me this to my face! Tell me that you want to stay here, and I'll leave you alone! But just tell me NOW in my face!"

You thought that maybe, with enough time, you would be able to accept that fate. You really wanted to be strong enough to accept the pain, to indulge in his own fantasy, and to protect others from his sick love.

"...I don't want you to trust me... it's too early for that, but just know that I would protect you..."

But you know you weren't; you weren't strong enough to hold it together, to not crack in a spiral of madness. It was easy to succumb, but you didn't want that at the same time.

And there he was...After months, he came. After the fear and tears, he came. Despite the danger, he came.

He came for you. You could just accept everything; you just needed to tell what you needed...

But, with tearful eyes, you met his pleading gaze.

"...help....me..."

///

A whistle echoed around, a simple melody. Heard some time ago from you while he was walking towards your shared house. 

He was in a good mood. After that last problem from the other day, he had found fewer creatures roaming his mountain, meaning that his warnings were making their effects. He wanted to create a small heaven for you and him, and no one needed to find it. 

He had found some good pheasants ,fat enough to be roasted and being served as dinner! He Remembered the last time you had pheasants, it was the day that he had decided to finally stop starving you after your silent treatment. You were so cute with your check-all stuff up on food!

He started to humming happily, thinking about your feast when he stopped in his tracks, his heart perching around, his face now painted in a worried expression. One of the main reasons that he had chosed that mountain was that it was quiet, very quiet, and his warnings, still unmatched from everyone, could get a single cricket even from km apart.

His power didn't allow him to have eyes in the future like in the past, but he was still capable of hearing from a great distance, listening to conversations from houses apart, hearing the songs of the phoenixes in the skies, and hearing the cries of dragons. He had learned that what had led him to calm in his stressful nights was your heartbeat, a rhythm that reminded you that you were there and alive.

That rhythm now was absent.

Leaving the pheasants behind in his rush, he started to march upon the mountain towards the house that he had always made sure was harmless for your own good.

No, no, you couldn't possibly be that broken already. Yeah, he had always been harsh, maybe a little too rough with you, and took drastic measures when needed, but he wanted you sane and safe! He wanted you complacent towards his affection, never too far in his own madness!

Did you find any poisonous herbs around the area? No, he was smart enough to have cleaned around, even from the most harmless mushroom! Did you harm yourself?! Maybe you broke a window, or maybe you had used part of your robes and...

The single image of your hanged body made his muscle move faster. When he reached the house, the fear of the worst made him rip away from the wall the door, throwing it away like it was nothing. He called for you, frantically searching for a single trace of you everywhere.

He found nothing; the lunch that he had left for you was still on the table, completely cold and untouched. The bedroom was empty; everything was like he had left it in the morning, just like in the living room and in every other part of the house. When even in the bath he had found no trace of your lifeless body, a sigh of relief escaped from him.

You were not dead; you were alive; simply, you weren't there...

Ah...you weren't there...you just disappeared... His teeth start to clench, feeling his own blood boiling in his veins. You had finally managed to leave the mountain, but how?! Even with a body with both arms, it was suicide trying to leave that place, especially without a trained body and agile like his own!

Like a monkey, he exited the houses and started to sniff around. He detected his own smell, your own, and... another scent... a male... someone that he had met... the Destined one...

He started to growl; he had found his secret heaven; he had found you! That DAMN MONKEY! He had really ruined everything he had conquered, right?! Can't he just let this one slide, eh?! Leaving you alone with him?!

Then, his growling stopped...he started then to chuckle, then a laugh, then more, more strong and sinister.

You really didn't learn your lesson, huh? You were enjoying seeing so many of his own kind dying and getting killed by him, eh? Darling, you were just as evil as him...

He retrieved his weapon and prepared a few other trinkets, slowly approaching the road and searching for your scent and heartbeat and the stench of the other one. You wanted to get chased? Fine, if that was the way to show his love to you, then he was ready to rip his rival's heart out of his chest and gift it to you.

He was coming for you, and you had better be ready.

[tubbytarchia]

Do you also feel as if the reason Scott always survives so much is that, besides being a good pvper, he just stays in the corner (sometimes literally) and doesn’t engage in the same risks as most others? I remember feeling really frustrated about it in Limited Life specifically but idk if that’s just a me thing.

In a way, yes, I do think he stays out of the action more than others. In fact there is this one time in Secret Life when him, Bdubs and Impulse were in a game of tag, and Bdubs was with his horse. Scott stole that horse and told Bdubs that it was unfair for him to have it and he would get it back at the end of the session, Bdubs reluctantly agrees. And then later in that session, this mf rolls up to Bdubs on that same horse, saying "I just wouldn't be able to escape otherwise". That is just a direct contradiction of the "fairness" that he claimed himself to want to provide for the sake of the other players. He has been a massive hypocrite or just unfair on multiple occasions for the sake of self-preservation but he knows how to paint his actions as bearing less weight than they do and make others feel like he's doing a favor and being a friend

But it's not even so much that as it is him generally staying in people's good graces, even when it's borderline manipulative or he antagonizes someone else to achieve the desired effect. Pearl wasn't exactly innocent in DL but it was Scott who ostracized her and stayed in good favor with most people by virtue of painting himself as the sensible one between the two of them when he instigated much more harm. He just intentionally doesn't leave strong enough impressions for anyone to want to kill him and will rather partake in small gestures of kindness; most times anyone's wanted to get him was because of him just being on more lives or time and not because he'd done anything to them (And people like Joel have actually been wronged by him in a very tangible way, justifying their desire to get back at him)

I'm confident that everyone within these games knows how to SURVIVE better than they do. But the point isn't survival, the point is content - conflict, interaction, etc. Scott also knows how to play it safe and stay in relative good favor with people by not offering up too much, but I have to agree that he seems to prioritize that more than anyone else. The most compelling aspect of his character is his self-sacrificial nature, and without any context, him sacrificing himself for others seems like a high and respectable toll, but he knows exactly what he's doing, he knows how much he can give and be fine and in control. When he sacrifices himself, he's prioritizing the benefit that will offer him and not the recipient. He's just very good at the social mindgame of it all, which is what makes things most interesting about his character, but it becomes less fun when he's this focused on survival and always gets away with it, almost never facing any punishment despite being equally as guilty of wrongdoing as any other member of the series

[demon-country]

We haven't seen much of Octavia and Stella thus far in the series, because up until now almost everything about Stolas and the characters attached to him (other than Blitz) has only been shown if it's plot relevant. But now, with Stolas officially in the gang, the loss of his relationship with Octavia is going to be a major source of drama. Her character growth, living situation, and relationship with her mother are now plot relevant, so we will be seeing more of how she is coping without him there to love and protect her. And I already know it's going to kill me inside.

Octavia is miserable, grieving, and feels abandoned, betrayed, and guilty for being the reason Stolas put up with Stella for so long (what she doesn't realize, yet, is that without her Stolas probably wouldn't have tried for a divorce. In all likelihood, given what we've seen so far, he'd have made his bid for freedom by way of suicide). And instead of a loving parent to help her work through those complicated and overwhelming feelings, she has Stella, who is abusive and controlling. And although she probably does love Octavia on some level, she has shown herself to be a piss poor mother who cares more about getting her petty revenge than she does about her daughter's happiness and wellbeing.

I sincerely hope that Octavia has friends, because her story is not destined to be a happy one for quite some time to come. She is going to be getting a number of terrible reality checks and revelations that will leave her current worldview, sense of self, and way of life irreparably shattered. Any sense of stability she still has left will be gone, many of her happy memories will be tainted by the rot her mother's abuse caused, and a lot of her freedoms - like her freedom of expression - will likely be taken away.

I feel so, so bad for her. She will soon be a legal adult, but that does not mean she isn't young and vulnerable. Her father cannot protect her now unless she goes to him, and although I'm sure he will continue to reach out to her to the best of his ability - per Blitz's advice, and potentially with Loona as a proxy - she has to be willing to take that step herself. He cannot take it for her.

And that is going to be very difficult for her. She already feels guilty and like she was a burden to him, which will be an emotional obstacle on its own, but now her abusive mother has sole custody of her, and unfortunately for Octavia, her last stunt of protecting her father will probably earn her the ire of both her mother and uncle. She did, after all, just make her uncle look like a complete fool by so effortlessly overpowering him.

And while Andrealphus likely won't be inclined to tell Stella about that particular humiliation just yet, there's nothing stopping that manipulative motherfucker from telling her that Octavia attempted to sneak out to go meet her father (which is easily deduced on his part by the fact that she came from the opposite direction of the palace, right on the heels of Stolas' cavalry). Given her efforts to keep them from talking to each other, I can't see Stella taking that too well, and without her old punching bag to take her frustration out on it's not a stretch to think that she might eventually turn on Octavia. Abusive relationships are notoriously hard to escape from for many reasons - which is another factor that prevented Stolas from doing so earlier - so if that does happen then it will likely also be a struggle for her.

Can someone who isn't Stella or anyone trying to use her, please give Octavia a hug and some support? She is going to sorely need it, because she is now more alone than ever.

[hoobleboodle]

Either you're confused or I'm confused, because I'm saying that the points she brought up are extremely valid. The whole police force is just acting like a circus right now so that the media can try and paint him as the worst guy ever, because they don't want us to agree with the killer, because that's bad for more CEOs. They're even saying he's a terrorist and he could get the death penalty, meaning they're trying to make an example out of this guy to dissuade any citizen unrest. It's at the point where they could be intending to just kill him and sweep the whole thing under the rug. It's disgusting and definitely a very scary thing to happen in America.

I thought we had a whole thing about "innocent until proven guilty" but I'm not seeing much of it. I am seeing hate-crimers, school shooters, and everyone who stormed our capitol on Jan 6th get away with their crimes though and none of them are labeled terrorists. Meanwhile, threats can be made to workers groups over and over, and women can be stalked for months but police can't do anything because "nobody is getting hurt yet" - however, that Briana woman says "deny defend depose" to her healthcare after they screwed her and she's being held in jail.

So I guess "justice for all" was just a lie, then? 💀

In court on Monday, one of Mangione’s attorneys claimed his client has been turned into a political pawn, robbing him of his rights as a defendant and tainting the jury pool. The attorney pointed to comments Mayor Eric Adams made last week on PIX on Politics with Dan Mannarino, among other actions by the NYPD. “I am very concerned about my client’s right to a fair trial,” said Karen Friedman Agnifilo. Outside the courthouse, there were signs and chants supporting Mangione.

How do we support this lawyer?

[d3ad-squid]

This is NOT what sky looked like, his ass does not know her at all

[sysig]

“It could be that the loss of her children drove the Queen deeper into her darker desires...but, I don’t believe she was fighting against them that hard before that particular tragedy. No monster does.” (Patreon)

Bonus:

Hmm, wonder what he could cover those holes with :3c

[saturnniidae]

I already kind of talked about this months ago but think it'd be really funny if a lot of Hiccup's kills in rtte are unintentional in the sense that he's so focused on freeing dragons he forgets that (if they don't die in the initial explosion) blowing up a ship and leaving people stranded miles away from any land is a death sentence and also that plasma blasting people is 99% of the time fatal.

What if the other riders all thought they were operating under the knowledge of they're killing dragon hunters to free dragons and Hiccup was the only one who wasn't fully aware of this because of his funny habit of prioritizing dragons over people, like he'd rather not kill people but also the safety of anyone but the dragons they're saving is Not at the forefront of his mind so it's not like he's careful.

[slime-sandwhich-nom]

Ngl gumball is the type to not fuck around when someone says anything about his gf he's very obsessed with

the tags aren't letting me tell you how gumball literally brought an entire PERSON, probably a dead one of unconscious as a SACRIFICE to a fake cult made by his own teachers and classmates (they didn't take it well)

[bumblingbabooshka]

No bc why the hell was Tuvok SO ride or die for this random lady who was gonna lobotomize B'Elanna he SUCKS I love him so much Tuvok focus UP!!!! What are you DOING!!!!! What's your ISSUE!!! HEHEHE Nimira: Prisons are so barbaric. As a perfectly civilized alternative, we've banned negative thoughts as enforced by the lobotomy machine. Tuvok: Honestly? I love what you're doing here. [B'Elanna's kicking and screaming in the background as Janeway tries frantically to get his attention] I think this is a very positive start to something beautiful.

[mukuberry]

if muu hadn't bonded with haruka i kinda like the idea of her latching onto kotoko in t2

[willyhoos]

a very self indulgent twipri au i made... vampire!zelda x vampire hunter!link..

in which a rancher from ordon is suddenly afflicted with lycanthropy, and hunts down the cursed hylian queen who is absolutely, DEFINITELY responsible for it...

(spoilers: he's Mega Wrong)

a bit more info about the au below the cut!

"Link, go assassinate the Hylian queen so we can go back to living normally." instructions unclear i have fallen in love with her

midna is somewhere probably maybe once i figure out what to do with her .

[helmarok]

romeo roleplaying as his favorite OC to beat the shit out of his other OC who he hates very much

[skeletoninthemelonland]

Seeing mouse man for first time i thought for a sec that you un-rabbitfied William tbh xD

Everyone un-rabbit that man

yeah!!!!!! un-rabbit that man!!!!

oh but that is so cool actually. i've seen artists drawing their favs differently every time until they're completely apart from the original character. they are so sexy for that tho