#maybe there are changes to that on the horizon

[vidavalor]

<<But I also see posts that imagine vindication, punishment, emotional banishment of the lover who hurt the beloved.>>

What amazes me is that people who see The Final 15 like this are watching the same story I am or have possibly read other Terry Pratchett books. It also stuns me that they think only one party was "at fault"-- both of them got things wrong and both of them also got things right. There is no one, wronged party in their relationship.

Back in S1, Crowley predicted that "the really big one" was going to be "all of us vs. all of them" and while one way to look at that is the way that Aziraphale rephrased it back to him-- "you mean, Heaven and Hell against humanity?"-- the lines of that are already blurred on account of Armageddon also being a person's inner conflicts boiling over and that's the point.

It is, as you put it, @wistfulnightingale, only a sense of us vs. them when it comes to someone who seeks to oppress. When it's about the missionaries-- then, us vs. them is necessary for survival. The key, though, is being able to recognize who, exactly, is "us" and, where applicable, leaving the door open for change.

At the end of S1, Crowley's us vs. them feels like it's the two of them on the side of humanity and having to fight Heaven/Hell in what could possibly be a losing battle. It's the darker aspect of the ending. They saved the world in S1 and stopped Armageddon and get more time together but there's the threat that they will have to do it all again at some point looming on the horizon. It's only really a threat because they worry they will fail to succeed at stopping Armageddon because they're on their own.

But then S2 comes along, right?

And, as a result, it starts to become that it doesn't matter whether we're talking about Armageddon: The Destruction of Earth or Armageddon: A Person's Own Mental Health Crisis because both types of us vs. them start to become more manageable as the side Crowley & Aziraphale are on begins to expand in numbers.

Before long, The Archangel Fucking Gabriel is revealed to be the lonely island that is Jim, who also feels like he and Beez are in their own us vs. them with Heaven & Hell. Before the end of it, we can see that he took a risk and went to Crowley and Aziraphale and, next thing we know?

It's Crowley & Aziraphale & Jim & Beez & Maggie & Nina & the whole street vs. them.

It's The Whickber Street Shopkeepers & Traders Association vs. Heaven & Hell...

And Muriel is curious about membership.

And Furfur looks sympathetic to the cause.

And Dagon, jumping in front of her friends to protect them, seems persuadable.

And, maybe most importantly, Uriel no longer feels like they're alone in their questioning of things after seeing Gabriel back Aziraphale and the demons... and, now, she's refusing to fight.

You can't have a war-- a military conflict or an inner conflict-- without war. If enough people refuse to fight any war, there is no war.

The oppressors at the top are also those taking advantage of those on the bottom and it's all the same, interconnected, corrupt system. Almost everyone is trapped in the middle...

They're all there in the middle, on the same side, in the center. How do you open it and free everyone trapped inside?

You've got to destroy the initial concept of the shape of the box.

You've got to push it open by destroying the idea of there being any sides besides the us vs. them of those who seek to be free and those who seek to harm and oppress. Evil is them-- abusers. The us is everyone against those abusers. There are more of us than there are of them and resisting the way they use labels to divide us in an attempt to conquer us is one way we shoot the missionaries on sight-- just be sure you can accurately identify one.

That's why Jim is the eternal Supreme Archangel. He figured out how to get in some good trouble and shared it with the people around him, bringing all those open to listening with him. Don't let his bitchiness fool you-- he's the angel who knows well the toxicity of the things those evangelists preach and he's been spitting in the face of it. Doesn't matter if you're human or angel or demon to Gabriel and it never has. If you're good people, you're his people, and he protects his people.

When Crowley and Aziraphale considered the idea of all of an us back in S1, they couldn't have predicted that the one who was going to rally the troops to help them was Gabriel but that's why it's good to try to check your own biases and consider shades of grey when it comes to people who show their situation might be more complicated than it might appear to be.

That's why it's shooting those missionaries on sight... you have to make sure you know you're looking at one first.

But, if someone shows you they are and who they are is an irredeemable missionary doing harm?

If we're talking about the Satans and the Metatrons of the world?

Yeah, fuck those guys. Get the rest of your gang of Us and do your best to kill whatever they're trying to do dead, for the good of everyone.

The gods of the Disc have never bothered much about judging the souls of the dead, and so people only go to hell if that's where they believe, in their deepest heart, that they deserve to go. Which they won't do if they don't know about it. This explains why it is so important to shoot missionaries on sight.

Eric, Terry Prachett

[astral-lucy]

your next partner (PAC)

hello beautiful creatures! i'm excited to be back with another pick-a-card reading. i've been feeling romantic lately, so here goes a reading regarding your next partner. hope you enjoy it!

as usual, pick the picture that you feel most connected or drawn towards (pile 1 - up and left / pile 2 - up and right / pile 3 - down and left / pile 4 - down and right)

happy reading!

#pile 1

wheel of fortune - eight of wands - knight of cups - six of swords - seven of coins

when i started to shuffle for this pile’s reading, “so high school” by taylor swift started playing, so maybe that means something to you. although this is a person i think you’ve known for a while, the wheel of fortune here shows a new stage of this relationship, and paired with the eight of wands this shows a period of excitement, passion - the typical honeymoon phase we all go through once we start a relationship. maybe you have been through a rough period emotionally, things haven’t been great for either one of you, and here comes a calmer time, you’ll have someone to rely on that’ll help you with all the love in the world. this relationship seems ideal, but there are a few cards here that advice making an effort to communicate correctly with each other. 

when i asked about the appearance of this person i got freckles! i also see that this person has a baby face or is a pretty childish person, someone with a lot of energy. i feel like they have lighter hair as well.  you can also expect this to happen literally at any moment now! this is something that is already happening and in the works. 

#pile 2

the hanged man - queen of cups - knight of cups - six of coins - nine of cups

“only love” by ben howard started playing when i started writing, and i feel like that’s how this connection feels like! this is someone new in your life, and your day to day will start to feel like this song. with the hanged man opening this reading i feel like this is someone who came in to change your perspective and opinions about love, and even about self love - but this card also tells you to be patient and advises not to rush into new relationships without being sure first, as not everyone will fit you. love is definitely on the horizon, just wait for it to come to you, as someone who is willing to listen to you and that will offer you all the attention you need is on the way. the six of pentacles here is asking you to give without expecting anything back, it advises you to be generous with yourself and the universe will be generous to you as well! a strong connection is coming 

when i asked about this person i got the five of coins, so this is probably someone who has gone through hard times and knows that feeling cared for is important. this is someone who has dark eyes, probably darker skinned as well. 

when i asked for timing, i saw that the winter time may be of significance, but this still may take a while to come to you. 

#pile 3

two of swords - ace of cups - six of coins - queen of swords - five of swords

wow, you may be indecisive regarding a relationship or taking a new step into a relationship, and you may be looking for advice. i think that this relationship has a great potential of being a safe space, somewhere you’ll feel loved and supported. you may be indecisive because you don’t want to lose your independence - but your partner understands how that is important to you and will respect it. there’s an emphasis on the important of communication, as you may have problems due to a lack of it, and what i see here is that you’re struggling to make things official because you’re afraid - talk to them! have the scary conversation. they understand. 

when i asked about appearance i got the emperor, which makes me think this is a person who has a lot of authority. i also think they’re someone with dark eyes but lighter hair. 

timing wise, regarding having a conversation or taking a new step, i’d say something will shift within the next ten days or the next two weeks. 

#pile 4

three of coins - three of wands - six of cups - king of coins - page of wands

i think someone you’ve had a crush on has looked your way! someone you’ve liked for a while is now noticing you in a romantic light, or maybe someone you tried to have a relationship with in the past is back. whoever this person is, they’re not 100% committed to you, they want to be your one and only. you may feel sparks, have a lot of passion and fun with this person, but you need to avoid being clingy or too jealous of this person, reminding you both how everyone needs space. the three of wands is an amazing card here, as it shows you good luck on your romantic choices. 

i think this person takes a great care of their appearance, especially their hair. 

i think this is going to become official in a few month, maybe around pisces season.

hope you enjoyed reading!

[daisymbin]

Hi💕 can i get 22. "you were my first love—you still are." And 33. "can we start over?" With S.coups telling the reader (fem), with an indecisive ending…? Thanks

thank you for requesting!!!

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist!

second chance prompt #22: "you were my first love—you still are." +

second chance prompt #33: "can we start over?"

the crackling of the campfire echoed through the air as you and seungcheol sat quietly on the sand, far enough from the group to be alone, yet still close enough to hear their laughter carried by the breeze. the firelight cast a warm glow on his face, and you couldn’t help but glance at him from the corner of your eye.

you hadn’t meant to wander off like this, but somehow, the conversation between you two had drifted toward something more... nostalgic.

“remember when we used to come here, just the two of us?” seungcheol’s voice broke the silence, and you turned to see him staring at the horizon, his posture relaxed but his expression distant. “seems like it was just yesterday.”

you smiled softly. “yeah, i do. it feels like so much has changed since then.”

“yeah,” he said with a quiet laugh, “everything felt so different back then. simpler, maybe?”

“simpler,” you echoed, looking at the firelight in the distance. “and we were younger.”

“much younger,” seungcheol agreed, his tone almost wistful. “so, tell me,” he said suddenly, turning his head to look at you, his expression playful yet tinged with curiosity, “who was your first love?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the question. “my first love?”

“yeah,” he nodded, “i was obsessed with knowing the answer back then that i asked you all the time but you never really told me. so who was your it, your first love?”

you laughed awkwardly, unsure of how to answer. your heart skipped a beat as the weight of the question settled on you. you could lie. you could say someone from high school, or maybe a celebrity crush? you just weren’t ready to admit it.

“uh… well, i guess it was… winnie the pooh,” you said with a shrug, trying to make it sound casual. “yeah, when i was little, i was obsessed with winnie the pooh. you know, with the whole honey obsession and all that.”

seungcheol blinked at you, his eyebrows raised in confusion. “winnie the pooh? really?”

“yup,” you said, nodding and doing your best to act nonchalant, even though your heart was pounding in your chest. “he was sweet and loyal, and he had a bunch of good friends. i guess i had a thing for his, uh, personality.”

seungcheol stared at you for a moment, his lips twitching into a smile. “winnie the pooh, huh? well, that’s definitely... interesting.”

you shrugged again, chuckling nervously. “i was a weird kid.”

he leaned back on his hands, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

you let out a small sigh of relief seeing that he didnt push for more, but before you could settle into the moment, he looked at you with a glint in his eyes. “who was your first real love? i mean, after winnie the pooh.”

you shifted uncomfortably, still unsure of how to answer. but then, almost instinctively, you asked the same question back. “who was yours? you never told me either.”

seungcheol’s eyes softened, and he smiled faintly, a mix of nostalgia and something deeper in his gaze. “you,” he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of years. “you were my first love—you still are.”

your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, all the noise of the campfire and the laughter from the group seemed to fade into the background. everything went still.

“what?” you whispered, barely able to process his words.

seungcheol looked at you, his expression serious, yet tender. “you were my first love. i’ve never told you that before, but you were the first person who made me feel like that—like love was more than just a word.”

it was like a punch to the gut, but a warm one. the realization hit you all at once—he felt it too.

“but—” you started, your voice shaky. “why didn’t you... why didn’t you tell me back then?”

“i don’t know,” he admitted, his eyes dropping to the sand. “i guess i was scared. scared of losing you, scared of being vulnerable. so i kept it to myself, even though i shouldn’t have.”

“cheol…” you murmured, your voice breaking slightly. “i wish you had told me.”

“i know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “i wish i had too. well at least you know now. even though it's a little too late."

you swallowed hard, trying to hold back the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “i... i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” he said quickly, reaching out to take your hand in his. “i just needed you to know. you were always my first love, and in some ways, i think you always will be.”

the warmth of his hand in yours made your heart ache. you could feel the sincerity in his words, the years of unspoken feelings that had built up between you. you both had changed, but some things—some feelings—remained the same.

you stayed there in silence for a while, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling the quiet space between you two. the campfire crackled in the distance, but all you could focus on was the quiet intimacy of the moment.

finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “maybe it’s not too late.”

seungcheol turned to you, his expression uncertain but hopeful. a smile smile tugging at his lips, “yeah? you think so?”

you don't answer him, except to give a small squeeze with your hands. you both sat in silence again, the weight of his words hanging between you, unspoken but understood. the air around you felt charged, like the world was waiting for something to happen, but neither of you moved.

after a long moment, seungcheol shifted, turning fully to face you. “do you think,” he said softly, his voice steady but full of nervousness & vulnerability. “can we start over?”

you met his gaze, the flickering light of the fire casting shadows across his face. there was hope in his eyes, something you hadn’t seen in a long time.

could you start over? could you go back to something that was so simple before, and yet so complicated now? your heart ached, unsure of what to say. you hesitated, your mind racing. everything about this felt so right, yet so complicated. a second chance seemed like something worth considering, but was it really the right time? could you both just... fall back into the old rhythm, or would it be different this time?

you looked at him, unsure still, but a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “i don’t know,” you said softly, the indecision hanging in the air between you. “but maybe we can... figure it out?”

seungcheol’s eyes softened, a small, hopeful smile forming on his face. “maybe we can.”

and there, in the soft glow of the campfire and the crashing waves, the future was uncertain, but there was a warmth in the possibility. maybe this time, you can tell cheol that he's your first love too?

[bongopowder]

looking for trouble! (hisoka)

⁺ . ✦ .　⁺ 　 . ✦ hunter x hunter (hisoka x reader) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺

content (18+): nsfw, female reader, hunter exam, zevil island, deep in the forest, degrading, bungee gum bondage?

word count: 4.6k

a tune for you: rule #34 (fish in a birdcage)

The darkness encompassing the indigo forest would be enough to unnerve a weary traveler, to send shivers down an unsuspecting spine, just as the touch of the cold night air nips at exposed skin. To others, however, its representation differs. Perhaps it’s an austere simplicity. The night: homogenous, consistent, peaceful even; a harmonious change from day. Or maybe it’s scandalous. A break from the life which you return to in the rather unsuspecting morning.

Zevil Island was about what you expected; lush trees extended far into the distance, speckled with occasional plains, mountainous rocks, and deceptively peaceful beaches. As the moon casts its glow amongst the scene, drowning every winter leaf and blade of grass with a mysterious sheet of pale blue light, the soft flutter of butterfly wings mingles with the whistling of wind, surrounding you as you walk.

The faint hoot of an owl sounds in the distance, and your breathing grows calmer. Looking down, you study the two badges in your hand: #174 and #105, yours and your target’s. You caught him out in the beginning, a large man with a red nose and a sword, tracking him to a field of tall grass after leaving the boat. Unbeknownst to him, you hid in the shadows, lurking deep in the thick branches of an oak tree until the sun set just below the horizon, casting the subtle gloom of dusk over the meadow.

It was over in a second, the creeping darkness and growing exhaustion hindering his senses as you stalked, hidden by the tall blades of grass. His body fell to the floor with a thud, the sound softened by the dense foliage below, and you quickly swiped the badge from his satchel.

That was mere hours ago. And now, the darkness had crept up on you, just as you had to him.

Yawning, you continue your walk through the trees, somewhat overconfident as you stride down the path which winds between trunks, leading you deeper into the forest. Your only task now is to find a place to hide, to ride out the next few days in peace, safe and away from whoever may be targeting you. Peace and quiet.

“Hey.”

Damn it.

The sound makes you stop in your tracks, eyes shooting up from the ground, seeing a figure up ahead, peeking through the foliage. Your hand instinctively moves straight to the knife in your belt.

Hisoka.

You narrow your eyes as you approach, knowing it would be useless to run from him. You meet his gaze, his stare piercing into you as he fingers a card, leaning casually against a nearby tree. There’s something behind those eyes: a sinister desire. For blood, no less.

Hisoka the Magician, nothing but a merciless killer, scheming and preying on those weaker. And they stand no chance, like a cat and a mouse. A cat with a fetish for carnage. A cat who likes to play with his food.

But you are no mouse.

You had encountered him before, in the sticky fog of the Misty Wetlands, where the heavy air sat deep within your lungs. You were close to the second stage, mind fuzzy as you continued to run, recalling nothing but the sensation of sitting, laying down, or simply standing still. That is, until you stumbled upon Gon’s neck in Hisoka’s hand.

It was an altercation. Hands. Knives. A fishing rod.

And those words he spoke to you, still ringing in your ears as he finally let you go.

You passed.

“I don’t want trouble,” you utter hesitantly, finally reaching the small courtyard with a hand up, approaching cautiously, ready to strike at any moment.

“And what if I do?” he smirks, pushing himself from the tree and making his way towards you. With a hand on his hip, he saunters closer, broad shoulders swaying as he walks.

“I’m not your target.”

“How can you be so sure?” he crosses his arms slyly, flicking the card back in his pocket.

“105 was my target, and I was his,” you pause, growing slightly nervous. You can feel an energy, a craving, a radiating force coming from his body. Something pent up, about to explode. “I’ll tell you what I know about your target, just let me leave.”

“Hmm…” he hums, eyes narrowing further as a smile creeps up on his thin lips. “Your two badges are still worth something to me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, your mind reeling in dread. You can’t beat him; at least, you don’t think you can. You’ve seen what he can do, what options do you really have? The surrounding trees may offer cover, but he’d surely run you down.

“You wouldn’t come out unscathed,” you say after clearing your throat, the blunt words spoken with a slight apprehensive tone. “And you’d need a third badge too.”

His hand moves to his chin and he hums, that devilish smile still plastered on his damned face. He’s already decided something.

“What if we came to an… arrangement?” he proposes, stepping closer as he lets out the soft huff of a chuckle. “An agreement in which we both stand to gain something… and you can leave with both your badges.”

Your stomach turns with anxiety at his words. Nothing could ever be so easy.

“What kind of arrangement?” you ask, almost knowing you might regret it, the words coming out in a hoarse whisper, caught deep in your throat.

He grins, a fisherman who just felt a tug on his line. Slowly, he reaches out his hand, palm upwards, extending his pointer finger out to you.

Within a second, he snaps it back, a beckoning call which somehow sends you flying ten feet forwards straight into him. Your face hits his chest, your body crashing into his as your hands instinctively move up to try to lessen the blow.

“What the-”

“You see,” he sighs dramatically, interrupting your complaint and wrapping one arm tightly around your waist to hold you against him. “I’ve found myself in quite the bind… a predicament, one may say. So much built up with no way to release it…”

Your eyes widen as you feel the slight touch of his fingers grazing up your neck, his other hand still firmly holding you in place, your hips tightly pressed against him. Immediately, heat travels straight to your cheeks as you look up into his narrowed eyes.

“I… you don’t mean…” you stutter.

“I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, haven’t you?” he smirks as his fingers snake around your neck, his touch firm. Your breath catches as they tighten, and he begins to slowly back you up against a nearby tree, the rough bark tickling the back of your scalp. “I haven’t killed anyone in days…”

You watch his chest rise and fall, his breaths growing quicker, lips parted slightly. And those eyes – dull and clouded with a repressed haze – bare into your soul, scanning every element of your face.

Swallowing, you too let your gaze fall along his face, his body, those muscular arms which hold you against the trunk. What am I doing? This is a terrible idea…

“What’ll it be?” he huffs impatiently, grip tightening as he leans in, causing you to gasp. “You leave in the morning, both badges in hand. As if nothing happened.”

His breath is hot against your ear, rough with his smoldering passion. You freeze, heart racing in nervousness, or… excitement? You can’t tell, and it only makes you feel worse.

To kill… to fuck… is it all the same to him?

The silence is unsettling; his hand remains on your neck, the hold unwavering as a soft dusk breeze makes its way through the forest, rustling leaves along the way.

“Okay…” you steady your voice, looking up into his eyes. “It’s a deal.”

A smile flickers across his face for a fleeting moment, but within an instant, his lips are crashing against yours, hungry and desperate. He lets out a soft sound against your mouth, something between a growl and a moan, as he pulls your hips forward, further into his.

“Good choice…” he murmurs as his grip on your throat releases and his fingers snake backwards, the feeling of sharp nails trailing along your sensitive skin making you wince. Your head snaps back as he pulls your hair, and within a moment his mouth is on your neck. He plants hot, messy kisses along your flesh, occasionally grazing his teeth across you, as if holding himself back from taking a bite.

The cool breeze tickles your neck, now wet with a thin layer of saliva, sending a faint shiver down your spine. Apprehensively, you reach your hand up to the nape of his neck, sliding your fingers through his hair, unintentionally pressing his face closer to your skin.

He groans, and you feel the harsh pinch of a bite at the base of your neck. His hands travel down to your hips, now pulling you away from the tree and backing you up deeper into the forest, the path out of sight.

“Wouldn’t want to be interrupted,” he murmurs between breaths, his mouth moving up to plant kisses along your jaw.

You watch in the darkness as he pulls back, his eyes scanning the environment behind you, expression lighting up for a moment. Without a warning, he pushes you backward, sending you stumbling down into the thick grass below, the dampness of the vegetation cold against your hands as you hit the floor.

He grins, walking closer and leaning over your body between your legs, the moon above disappearing as he steps in front of it, like an eclipse. The white rays of moonlight create a blurry haze around his silhouette, his body a looming shadow above you.

Oh, he’s not gonna be gentle…

Crouching down, his face just inches from yours, he lets his eyes wander over your body fully, taking in your entire form. Your chest, rising and falling swiftly. Your eyes, wide in anticipation. Your hands, propping you up slightly as you rest in the thick grass.

“You’re scared…?”

His question is rhetorical; he knows you’re terrified. Terrified of him and terrified of the consequences. And yet, there’s something that draws you in, something that keeps you from running. Something…

“Does it matter?” you whisper, eyes meeting his through your eyelashes.

“No,” he smirks with a shrug, now moving to settle between your legs, his arm reaching behind you on the grass, steadying himself as he gets onto his knees. “It’s more fun that way.”

As the last words leave his mouth, he captures your mouth in another kiss, his lips moving furiously against yours. You slowly let yourself fall back into the grass, hands gripping his shirt as you pull him down with you. Sounds of soft pleasure fill the air, your senses heightened, feeling the soft skin of his face against yours and the dry tack of his face paint tickling your nose.

You’re just as desperate for it now, your desire snowballing with every kiss, touch, breath. It’s wrong and dirty and indecent but you just can’t help yourself, his body pressing yours deeper into the ground.

And then the movement starts, his hips grinding into yours as he uses a hand to pry your thighs apart. The sudden friction sends a jolt of electricity through your body, a small sound escaping your lips but immediately captured by his.

He lets out a deep breath, his arousal growing more intense as he continues his movement into your hips, one hand keeping you pressed against the grass. Your arms wrap around his body, fingers sinking into the soft fabric of his shirt, tugging at it urgently.

A thin string of saliva connects your lips to his as he pulls back, wasting no time in pulling his shirt over his head and exposing his bare chest to you. His muscles, accentuated under the moonlight, tense slightly as the brisk air hits him.

He leans back in, eyes trained to yours as he tosses his clothes to the side. His hands move to your shirt, not waiting for confirmation before pulling it and over your head, nearly ripping the fabric with his urgency.

You shiver, unable to decide if the reason lies within your exposure to him or the elements, and you fall back to the grass.

“Forgetting something?” Hisoka teases as he slips a finger under the bridge of your bra, lifting your back from the ground as he pulls it towards him. His other hand slides behind you, his fingers working to unhook the clasp.

You feel the color rush to your cheeks as he drops your undergarment to the side, his eyes hungrily trailing down to your exposed chest. He continues to study you for a moment, his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek as he lets his gaze roam down, and down… and down.

Oh.

Your pants are already being torn off, the coarse fabric quickly sliding down your legs as he tugs them up in the air.

Instinctively, you tuck your knees, pressing your thighs together nervously as he kneels in front of you, eyes still taking in your appearance in silence. It feels demeaning, degrading, dirty, the way he looks at you. And something about it makes heat pool between your legs.

He stands, his fingers slipping under the waistband of his own pants, tugging them down just enough to see his v-line peeking out from the pale fabric.

“Get on your knees.”

His demand rings though your ears, the hum of sound clouding your thoughts. It’s as if your body moves on its own, fueled by nothing but inherent lust and scandal, your knees digging into the dirt as you look up at him.

You tug his pants further down, desperate for him, to feel him, to tastehim. He smirks, allowing you to remove it, letting the fabric fall to his ankles.

The resulting sight makes your breath catch in your throat, your eyes widening as they stare, unmoving from him. The size is…

“Make it fit.”

Your stomach drops, not in fear, but rather sensuality: the thrill of desire. Moving in, you waste no time giving him what he wants, your tongue running up the length of him, pausing gently at his tip and moving back and forth, a slight saltiness spreading throughout your mouth.

Hisoka grows more restless, his breathing staggering, the air caught in his throat as you toy with him.

“Get on with it,” he growls, his hand quickly grasping your hair at the scalp, pulling your face closer to him.

You smirk, eyes not leaving his as you lick a long, thick stipe up your palm, saliva glistening in the night. Your hand moves forward, gripping his cock and beginning to move, tantalizingly, back and forth.

He groans, his fingers intertwining further into your hair and sharp nails scraping against your scalp.

You move slowly, teasing him further with your tongue, taking him deeper, an inch at a time as your hand continues to work at his base. The pressure builds in your mouth, your jaw opening to accommodate him as you continue, almost choking and gagging.

As your lips touch him, taking him in, he lets out a straggled moan, strong arms forcing your head forward again, more and more, until you’ve taken his entire length in your mouth. You grip his thighs, feeling him hit the back of your throat and push harder. You twist, making him fit.

And then he pulls you back, just as you had gotten the chance to adjust. That is, before he thrusts your face into him again, and again, and again. It’s aggressive and violent, his grunts growing louder with every push, his hips moving forwards to meet your face, forcing himself even deeper into your mouth.

You feel tears blurring your vision, unable to feel anything except the sensation deep in your throat, the pain of him hitting against you, but the pleasure of knowing what you’re doing to him.

The muscles of his thighs under your grip begin to tighten more frequently, his gasps and moans growing more desperate.

“Fuck…” he grumbles under his breath, the word barely distinguishable from the series of pleasurable sounds caught deep in his throat, just as he is caught in yours.

He pulls you back by your hair, a strangled grunt escaping his lips, lips which immediately twist into a scheming smile. With his other hand, he places his finger under your chin, using his thumb to wipe the stray saliva dripping from the side of your mouth.

You fall onto your back, pushed back into the grass by Hisoka as he straddles your body. He leans in, mouth finding yours in a kiss as he positions himself over you, sliding his hands along your bare arms outwards, his hands meeting yours. After just a moment, he pulls his hands back, running them back up your arms, one finding your breast and the other, your hip.

You shift to move your hand, but it’s stuck. You tug and pull, furrowing your brow and pulling back from the kiss to glance to the side, staring at your hand, almost cemented to the ground.

“Why can’t I move-”

You’re immediately silenced, Hisoka’s finger moving to your lips, a sly smile plastered on his face.

“Don’t concern yourself with such trivial matters such as your hands…” he whispers, kissing at your jawline as if nothing happened.

The wet sensation draws your attention back to the moment, forgetting about your hands, or lack thereof. He moves again, positioning one leg between yours, pressing down into your body. You move your body up and closer to his as you begin to buckle your hips against his thigh, craving stimulation.

He smirks against your mouth, feeling your slick against his thigh as he continues to kiss you. Suddenly, he shifts his position, moving his other leg between yours. One of his hands travels to your hip, pushing you further into the ground.

“Such a dirty slut for me, aren’t you?” he purrs, his mouth pulling away from yours as his hand moves from your hip, trailing down to your inner thigh. You shiver, eyes meeting his in the starlight, a shadow looming over his face.

He slides a finger up, gently skimming along your skin as he makes his way closer to your core. His finger moves further up, teasing your folds, his touch far from gentle.

“Ah-” you dig your head into his shoulder, your hands gripping at the dirt as he continues to move his finger. Your eyes widen as you feel his sharp nail graze against your clit, the pain and stimulation sending a shudder through your body.

“Careful-” your forced whisper is quickly halted as he moves two fingers into you, slipping easily inside your throbbing pussy. You tighten around him, your heels and hips digging deeper into the dirt as your muscles contract.

It’s messy, inconsistent, almost selfish. He moves his fingers deeper inside of you, forcing small sounds of pleasurable pain from your lips, as if he cares not for your satisfaction, and only for what you can do for him.

After only a moment, he removes his fingers from inside of you, sliding them seductively up and across your neglected clit. They continue their journey up, sliding along your navel, sternum, and up to your neck.

“Clean them,” he demands suddenly, not waiting for a reply and shoving his fingers into your mouth, the tips pressing down into your tongue.

You let out a soft groan, the sound catching in your throat as his fingers muffle you, that is, before you begin to suck and lick him clean. Your tongue moves across and between his sticky fingers, lapping up your wetness from his skin.

As you continue to work at his fingers, he spreads your thighs further apart with his legs, settling between them. His fingers push further down against your tongue, eliciting a small whine from you.

You gasp as you feel him between your folds again, the tip of his cock sliding back and forth against you, lubricated with your slick.

He finally removes himself from your mouth, his hand now resting beside your head on the grass. His body remains pressed against yours, his hips stopping their movement as they slide back, positioning his tip at your entrance.

You bite back a moan in anticipation, pursing your lips as you look up at him, hovering over you.

“Beg for it,” his mouth twists into a smart grin.

“Please…” the word leaves your mouth before you can even register how degrading the situation is. You’re simply too frustrated, too needy. “I want you so bad… please…”

“Say my name,” he whispers close to your ear, his own breathing unsteady as he processes your words. “I want this whole island to hear you.”

“H-Hiso-”

The rest catches in your throat, the sensation of him slowly entering you drawing out a long and straggled moan, mingling with the remnants of a real word. Your fingers tear at the grass below, body contracting as he pushes deeper and deeper, filling you up more than you thought possible.

The movement begins, slowly at first, then speeding up in aggressive desperation. Your head throws back in pleasure, unable to tell if the stars you see above are real ones or not. Hisoka grunts with every thrust, each one growing in power as his fingers dig into the ground beside your head.

And the dirt. It coats your hair as he rocks you back and forth, stuck to the strands with the soft grassy dew acting like glue. You bite your lip, stifling a desperate moan into the night, knowing anyone could be in the surrounding forest.

Hisoka’s hand moves to your neck again, giving you no time to process as he tightens his fingers around you, using you as leverage to fuck you even harder.

“What did I tell you?” he grumbles through his clenched jaw, his pace unwavering. “I want to hear you.”

You oblige, forcing yourself to whisper his name, focusing on nothing else than the word, trying to distract yourself from the tightening around your throat, and the pounding in your stomach. It feels as though your organs are moving, shifting positions to accommodate his selfish length.

“Louder,” he growls.

You try, raising your voice as he continues to grind his hips against yours, his movement losing coordination as time progresses, growing less calculated, more carnal.

It really does feel like he wants to kill you.

You feel the pressure building within you, in time with the tightening of fingers around your neck. Vision growing hazy but body taught with pleasure, you manage to stutter.

“H-Hisoka… I can’t…” Your throat closes tighter, silencing you again.

“I don’t care,” he grunts, his breathing signifying he’s close to the edge. He has no plans of stopping…

You should hate it. It should scare you, terrify you even. The thought of dying: fucked to death on a deserted island by a man who cares not to even learn your name. But your body doesn’t work alongside your rational thoughts.

The constant rhythm, the stimulation, the force, it all comes to a climax.

Your body shakes, his name on your tongue as you feel the release. You tighten around him, your head digging back into the ground, just as he lets out a strangled gasp.

His hand releases your neck as he pushes his lips into yours, his hips moving as he rides out the waves of pleasure. You capture each other’s moans, drowning them in the sheer force of the kiss, passionate and feverous, as messy as anything coming before it.

A final gasp escapes your lips as your body relaxes, growing limp under his as your muscles twitch with remnant stimulations. He pulls his lips back from yours, gliding them against your jaw, his head eventually moving to settle beside yours, with his forehead pressed against the grass.

Breathing. In and out. Just the sensation of it feels like a blessing through all the turmoil. The dark of the night feels duller now, the sky softening into a darker gray rather than a piercing black.

The feeling of time passing is indescribable, minutes turning into hours or hours turning into minutes: you can’t tell. You’re sat there, quietly, simply left alone with your thoughts and a heavy body above you, hands still stuck to the floor.

The silence of the forest continues, as if unaware of the chaos, unaware of the fact you were just fucked to an inch of your life, the leaves still rustling with the same rhythm they did hours before. A peeking dawn cracks over the tops of the trees, the sky hinting to shades of purples and oranges in the distance.

“Hmm…” Hisoka hums, picking his head up to see the changing sky, as if waking from a slumber, the new light now highlighting his face in different ways than before. His face paint is smeared, no thanks to your nose and his sweat, with small pieces having been chipped away. And his hair. His hair has flattened, small pieces falling in front of his face, contrasting their normal pushed-back appearance.

He pushes himself off you, his abs clenching as he lifts himself up, standing up fully with a deep breath. Leaning down, he wipes the slight tint of brown dirt from his knees, the grass and soil falling back to rest on the ground, leaving him completely clean, a different sight from you. In silence, he delicately gathers his clothes, scattered across the grass in different places, putting each item back on, casually but with concentration, eyes no longer darting to you as you watch him, your hands still glued to the ground by some unknown force.

He shrugs his last layer on, smoothing the wrinkles of his shirt as his hand runs across the clove and spade on the front of the fabric before settling on his badge, #44. He straightens it out delicately before adjusting his clothing one more time. As he does, he stares off into the trees, through the dense trucks and into the fading darkness.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure,” he finally says, sighing and waving his hand dismissively as he walks away. With that, your hands are free again, the pressure releasing and allowing you to move your wrists. You gasp, immediately sitting up onto your palms as you watch him, walking back through the forest and to the established path, already beginning to smooth his hair again. Without another word, he disappears into the foliage, his footsteps growing softer and softer as time passes. And then, silence.

And it leaves you: naked, dirty, wet, and disheveled in a patch of grassy soil, blades littered across your body and scattered through your hair. Your breathing slows, the rise and fall of your chest softening as you draw your gaze upwards and to the sky, those warm colors, scaring away the sins of the cold night as they escape to the west, away from the light.

But what could you really have expected?

Perhaps you really were like the others in the end.

Just a mouse.

Happy Birthday Alexis! <3

[starclancy]

I can image a flighty sanji would be so heartbreaking for his girl. But someone who’s even more flighty (as well as probably has alot of commitment issues) would probably be shanks himself. Just thinking about his girl walking into the pub after an exhausting victory, just wanting to have a warm drink and snuggle up to her man, only to seeing him very obviously flirting up the bar maid. I’m talking touching her hair, complementing her, hell maybe even kissing her outright. He’s always been like this, and even though she’s been warned many times by the crew about his flighty behavior before getting in this relationship with him, she thought maybe he would change for her, especially because she’s been in the crew since it’s near inception. Maybe it was always a pipe dream, but I can imagine the look on shanks’ face when the crew wakes up in a hung over stupor, and their captains girl is gone. With nothing but a short note to shanks telling him how’s he’s free to do what he likes, but she won’t be around to hurt over it anymore. (Maybe she joins laws team, I can imagine he’s more loving). I’d love to see your take on this!!

This is so detailed! Tysm i had so much fun writing this!

~ Unspoken Goodbye ~

PAIRING: Fem!Reader/Shanks

CONTENTS: 💔 - angst

WORDCOUNT: 1130

Request status: Open (PLS)

The hum of the pub was loud and lively as Y/N trudged in, her body aching from a long and brutal fight. Her arms hung heavy at her sides, muscles strained from hours of combat. Victory was theirs, but it had come at a cost—her energy, her patience, and most of all, her need for reassurance.

She didn’t ask for much, not really. A warm drink, a quiet corner, and most importantly, the man who held her heart. The man who had stolen her breath away with his charisma and his smile. The man who had promised, in his own reckless way, to keep her safe from the heartbreak she always feared.

Shanks.

Her eyes scanned the dimly lit pub, illuminated only by flickering lanterns and the warm golden glow of firelight. She spotted him immediately. Shanks, with his iconic red hair, was unmistakable even in a crowded room. But the sight that greeted her stopped Y/N in her tracks.

Shanks sat at the bar, his boisterous laugh ringing out over the noise, his arm casually draped over the shoulder of the barmaid. The woman giggled, her cheeks flushed as Shanks played with a strand of her hair. His fingers twirled the golden locks as he murmured something into her ear, his signature lopsided grin making the barmaid blush even harder.

Y/N’s chest tightened. Her heart felt like it had been yanked out and stomped on right there. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen him like this—flirting, charming, letting his flighty nature get the best of him. She knew who Shanks was when she’d agreed to be his girl. She’d heard the warnings from his crew, had seen firsthand the way women fawned over him wherever they docked.

But she had believed him. Believed him when he’d said she was special. That he’d change, for her.

The laughter of the barmaid cut through Y/N’s haze of heartbreak, pulling her back to the moment. Shanks leaned closer, brushing the barmaid’s hair behind her ear, his lips dangerously close to hers. Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream, to cry, to march over and demand to know why she wasn’t enough for him.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she turned on her heel and left the pub, her footsteps silent against the cobblestone streets. She didn’t even stop by the ship. She couldn’t bear to see the crew, not like this. They’d look at her with pity, maybe try to comfort her, but she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to be the girl who stayed and suffered in silence.

By the time the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, Y/N was long gone.

Shanks woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and the telltale grogginess of a night spent drinking too much. He groaned, rubbing his temples as he sat up, the room spinning slightly. Around him, the crew was in various states of disarray, most of them sprawled out on the floor or slumped over tables.

“Where’s Y/N?” he mumbled, his voice raspy.

No one answered.

“Anyone seen Y/N?” he asked louder this time, standing up and stretching.

The crew exchanged uneasy glances. Benn Beckman, always the most perceptive, frowned as he looked around.

“She wasn’t here when we got back,” Benn said.

Shanks’s brow furrowed. That wasn’t like her. Even when she was upset, she’d usually stay nearby, maybe sulking or giving him the cold shoulder. But this... this was different.

Something on the table caught his eye—a folded piece of parchment, his name scrawled across the front in Y/N’s familiar handwriting. His heart sank as he picked it up, his fingers trembling slightly.

He unfolded the note and read the short, curt message.

Shanks, You’re free now. Free to flirt, to drink, to kiss whoever you want. I won’t stand in your way anymore. I loved you, more than I should have. But I can’t keep breaking my own heart over and over. I’m leaving, for good. Don’t come after me. Y/N

The paper slipped from his fingers, fluttering to the floor.

“Damn it,” Shanks muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

“What is it?” Benn asked, his voice calm but tinged with concern.

“She’s gone,” Shanks said, his voice hollow. “She’s... she left me.”

The weight of his own actions hit him like a tidal wave. He remembered the barmaid, remembered the way he’d flirted and laughed without a care in the world. It had been harmless fun, or so he thought. But now, with Y/N’s note staring up at him from the floor, he realized how wrong he’d been.

Y/N stood at the railing of the Polar Tang, the wind whipping through her hair as she watched the waves crash against the submarine’s hull. She had spent the last few days adjusting to her new life among Law’s crew.

The Heart Pirates were different from Shanks’s rowdy crew. Law was reserved, meticulous, and fiercely protective of his crew. He didn’t flirt or play games. He treated Y/N with a quiet respect that felt foreign but comforting.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Law said one evening as they shared a quiet meal in the mess hall.

Y/N looked up at him, surprised.

“About what?”

“Whatever brought you here,” he said, his golden eyes meeting hers. “I can tell it wasn’t easy for you to leave.”

She hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

“I thought he could change,” she admitted softly. “For me. For us. But I was wrong.”

Law didn’t press her for details. He simply nodded, his gaze steady and reassuring.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like she could breathe. She wasn’t just a girl chasing after an impossible dream anymore. She was her own person, strong and capable, carving out a new path for herself.

And as much as it hurt to leave Shanks, she knew she had made the right choice.

Back on the Red-Haired Pirates’ ship, Shanks stared out at the open sea, his heart heavy with regret. He had always been a man who valued his freedom, who lived for the thrill of adventure and the joy of the moment. But now, as he stood alone on the deck, he realized that he had taken Y/N’s love for granted.

She had given him everything, and he had thrown it away.

“Do you think she’ll ever come back?” he asked Benn one evening.

Benn shook his head, his expression unreadable.

“Not unless you give her a reason to,” he said. “And even then, it might be too late.”

Shanks nodded, his chest tightening. He didn’t deserve her, not after everything he’d done. But that didn’t stop him from hoping, from wishing that one day, he might have the chance to make things right.

For now, though, all he could do was live with the emptiness she had left behind.

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

‧აsagittarius season tarot readings ໒ ‧₊˚

november 22 - december 21

.ೃ࿔:𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 *.⋆

These tarot readings are meant to give you some information about how the energy of this season is going to affect you. Sagittarius season usually comes with a big burst of energy, specially channeled in matters that relate deeply to the slightly more childlike side of our intellect. This season usually comes with an enhancement of curiosity, the need to explore and expand our horizons, but also the energy to do so. Let's check what are the positives and the negatives of this season for each sign.

don't forget to check your moon and rising signs' posts just in case

dividers by @adornedwithlight & @cafekitsune, images by Kira Cyan

.‧͙˚ *༓ scroll down for the readings ⋆ִ ‧͙⁺˚

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 .ೃ࿔*:･𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛{𝙹𝚞𝚗𝟸𝟸 – 𝙹𝚞𝚕𝟸𝟸} ♋︎

𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑮𝑯𝑻 ✦ 𝟖 𝑶𝑭 𝑪𝑼𝑷��� ✦ 𝑨𝑪𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑪𝑼𝑷𝑺

𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬

During this season you will see how the importance of your own boundaries, with others and within yourself, have made a positive impact in all of your relationships. This season you are finally confident enough to really stand up for yourself and make it known that even if your sensitive nature is quite apparent, that doesn’t mean people can always expect you to give and give and give to them without them actually bringing value to your life. You are becoming better at understanding that your emotions might be difficult to navigate, which doesn’t mean they are inconvenient or unnecessary. People are going to become more respectful and actually begin to comprehend the value you bring into their lives. Don’t force yourself to stay with ungrateful people, you don’t owe emotional labor to the people who are not willing to be appreciative of everything that comes alongside your ability to be such an amazing friend or partner.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

It's likely this season you are going to face a few changes of scenery. You will become more comfortable with your innerworld, and also more comfortable being vulnerable around others, but only when you are capable of moving forward. Many things from your past will come back, especially old friendships, old relationships, and memories from emotionally charged situations. If you address these issues you will be capable of moving forwards. There’s plenty of discoveries about yourself that will be made this season, but you also will have the opportunity to balance out the introspection with new activities. Expect new relationships, maybe not in the romantic or social aspects necessarily, but more in how your experiences and your routines are affecting you, and how you are affecting them.

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞

During this season it’s very likely you begin to feel a little disconnected from the usual emotional intensity you live with. I think your sensitivity is going to manifest itself in a way that’s more aligned with your intellect. Try to avoid over-rationalizing your emotions, as this won’t be beneficial in the long term. I think that you are going to experience vulnerability in a way that’s genuine but also not as counterproductive as it’s been before. Your strength will rely on how well you are willing to adapt to new perspectives and to find your place in new dynamics, you need to be capable of being honest with yourself and realistic with your expectations. Avoid anything where you are forced to get carried away from your instinctive ways.

˚☽˚.⋆𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚒𝚘{ 𝙾𝚌𝚝𝟸𝟺 – 𝙽𝚘v𝟸𝟷} ♏︎

𝟒 𝑶𝑭 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑺 ✦ 𝑷𝑨𝑮𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑺 ✦ 𝑨𝑪𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑺

𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬

There’s a new sense of stability taking the spotlight when it comes to your desires and ideals. You will begin putting a lot of time and energy into creating the relationships and social circles that bring you peace of mind and comfort in a way that's consistent yet not invasive. People will also become more drawn to you as this season is really bringing out many admirable features of your character. Expect others to assume you have your shit together, even if you actually don't, or maybe you do, but you are not exactly where you want to be yet. Your relationships are going to get pretty intense this season, but not in a way that’s completely problematic, it’s very likely that this intensity manifests in explosive emotionality and impulsive decisions. It is also a pretty good moment to spend with family or your closest friends, make sure you communicate your gratitude.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

During this season there will be plenty of new beginnings, new ideas, new journeys, a lot of novelties in your daily life, let's say. But, it's very unlikely that all the new things stay for long in your life. You are going to become overly excited about many new ideas, you are really inspired and you have a lot of energy, but at the moment you lack the focus and the experience to achieve the unrealistic amount of things you’d wish you could do. This doesn’t mean that there’s no value in this creative energy, but it's just a heads up; be careful with promises. Be realistic with what you promise to yourself, and don’t fall for empty promises from others.

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞

Just because you are inspired and full of energy, it doesn’t mean you have to rely on that in order to get your achievements. It is clear that a boost of motivation is always nice and helpful, it might be necessary for you to feel this sort of new refreshing wave of energy. Just be careful and make sure you also take this as an opportunity where you can also build realistic and healthy structures to support you if at some point the motivation is gone. Order in your everyday life, your routine, your habits, doesn’t need to align with norms or standard ideas of how to live, in your case, and during this season, you will have plenty of time and opportunities to become more aligned with your true essence and to begin building a life accordingly.

·˚୨୧�� 𝙿𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚜 {𝙵𝚎𝚋𝟷𝟿– 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝟸��} ♓︎

𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑶𝑭 𝑷𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑪𝑳𝑬𝑺 ✦ 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑶𝑭 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑺 ✦ 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑼𝑵

𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬

Be careful with people who your intuition tells you to stay away from. There’s plenty of envious individuals wanting to make sure their own negativity is contagious enough to make you as bitter as they are, they don’t want to put you down or take your achievements from you, they want you to become so insecure you’ll have to become annoyingly cocky about your success, in the same way they would if they were you. Other than that, people will begin looking up to you, you will be put on a well deserved pedestal. During this season you will be expected to be generous and nurturing, trust your intuition, there’s people who are worth your time and will actually bring an equal amount of value to you, and there's people who are just envious. Keep in mind that material success and spiritual development can go hand in hand if you want them to.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Many things will come to a positive conclusion during this season, and many personal projects and journeys will begin a more mature stage. During this time it is important that you are aware that your responsibility will be tested. It will become clear to you that maybe you actually are a natural leader or someone who succeeds when placed in positions of power. What's relevant here is that you don’t lose touch with the values and ideas that come naturally to you. You are trusted not only because of your care and attention to detail, but also because you remain humane, empathic and sensible when approaching conflict.

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞

Even if everything is looking extremely bright and positive, please don’t lose sight of the possible complications along the way. Take the time to appreciate and be grateful for every experience of joy and contempt during this season, but also, look for what’s behind the superficial feelings of happiness. Experimenting fulfillment shouldn’t be taken lightly, overthinking about anxiety might be too normalized, but overthinking about what constitutes your sense of happiness is usually not a thing. Don’t belittle your success, but be mindful about what makes you feel content and the time and effort it took you to get where you are. This season will provide you with the personal and spiritual development opportunities to further enhance future positive experiences. 

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[srslyblvck]

── arm's length,, elijah mikaelson

pairing: elijah mikaelson x fem!reader

synopsis: elijah had always kept you at arm's length. today you finally confronted him.

genre: angst, hurt-comfort

warnings: none

word count: 1.1k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE NIGHT AIR WAS brittle, heavy with the quiet hum of the woods surrounding the Mikaelson estate. You stood on the balcony, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, trying to ward off the chill creeping into your bones. He was late again. You weren’t sure why you even expected otherwise. Elijah Mikaelson was nothing if not elusive, slipping through the cracks of your life like water through cupped hands.

The sound of footsteps behind you shattered the silence, and you turned to find him standing there. His silhouette was bathed in moonlight, his immaculate suit dark against the pale glow. His face was as unreadable as ever, though his eyes betrayed him, shadowed with guilt and sorrow.

“You’re late,” you said quietly, not bothering to hide the edge in your voice.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You never do.” You turned back to the night sky, unwilling to face him. “But you always find a reason, don’t you? A reason to leave. A reason to stay away.”

His silence stretched between you like an unspoken truth. Finally, he stepped closer, his voice low and measured. “You know why I keep my distance.”

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, I know. You’ve made that very clear. Because I’m human. Because I’m fragile. Because I’ll die, and you won’t.”

“Don’t trivialize this.” His voice was sharp now, a flash of that famous Mikaelson temper breaking through his usual restraint. “Do you think it’s easy for me? Watching you live this fleeting, brilliant life, knowing that I—” He stopped himself, his fists clenching at his sides. “Knowing that I’ll outlive it?”

“Then why not let me love you while I’m here?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why punish us both for something we can’t change?”

His jaw tightened, and he turned away, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the horizon. “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me.”

“Don’t I?” You stepped toward him, anger simmering beneath your sorrow. “Do you think I don’t understand what it means to love you? To love someone who’s seen the rise and fall of civilizations? Who’s walked this earth for centuries while I have maybe a handful of decades left?”

“Elijah,” you continued, your voice breaking, “you think you’re protecting me by keeping me at arm’s length, but all you’re doing is breaking my heart in slow motion.”

He flinched at your words, his composure cracking for just a moment. “If I give in,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “if I let myself love you the way you deserve, it will destroy me when I lose you.”

“And what about me?” you shot back, tears welling in your eyes. “What about the destruction you’re leaving me with now? Every time you pull away, every time you disappear, it’s like losing you piece by piece.”

His face softened, but the pain in his eyes deepened. “You think this is easy for me? To deny myself the only thing I’ve wanted in centuries? To stand here, knowing that if I give in, I’ll condemn myself to a grief that never ends?”

You took a step closer, your voice trembling but firm. “You’re already grieving me, Elijah. You’re mourning me before I’m even gone. And it’s not fair. To either of us.”

The silence that followed was deafening, his eyes locked on yours as if searching for an answer he couldn’t bear to find. When he spoke again, his voice was raw, stripped of its usual careful control. “I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever cared for. Every single one. Do you know what it’s like to live for a thousand years, burdened by the memory of every love you’ve buried? To carry that weight, century after century?”

Your breath hitched, and you reached out, your hand brushing his. “I don’t know that kind of pain,” you admitted. “But I know that I’d rather have a few years of loving you than a lifetime of wondering what it would’ve been like.”

He shook his head, a soft, bitter laugh escaping his lips. “You say that now. But someday, I’ll be standing over your grave, and you’ll be gone. And I’ll still be here.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks, but you held his gaze. “Then I’ll love you from my grave. I’ll love you so fiercely that even death won’t take it from you.”

Elijah’s composure shattered. He took a step closer, his hands trembling at his sides. “Do you think this is easy for me?” he asked, his voice raw. “Do you think I don’t ache every moment I’m away from you? That I don’t dream of a life where I can give you the happiness you deserve?”

“Then why won’t you let yourself have it?” you cried, the tears spilling over now. “Why won’t you let me have you?”

“Because I will lose you!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. “And I cannot endure that pain again. I have buried too many loves, seen too many faces fade from memory. If I love you, truly love you, it will destroy me when you are gone.”

“And what about me?” you demanded, stepping closer. “You think I don’t know the risks? You think I haven’t thought about the day I’ll be gone and you’ll still be here? But I’m here now, Elijah. I’m alive. And you’re wasting it.”

He turned away, his shoulders trembling as he struggled to regain control. “You deserve a life unburdened by the chaos I bring. A life with someone who can grow old with you.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “You don’t get to take away my choice just because you’re scared.”

You moved closer, desperate to reach him, to make him understand. “You can’t stop time, Elijah. You can’t stop the pain. But you can choose to let yourself be happy. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

He looked at you then, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Happiness is a cruel illusion for someone like me.”

“Then let me be your illusion,” you whispered, stepping close enough to feel the heat of him. “Let me be yours, if only for as long as I can.”

For a moment, you thought he might leave again, retreat into the shadows where he felt safest. But then he reached out, his hand cupping your cheek, his touch so gentle it almost broke you. “You are asking me to risk everything,” he murmured, his voice heavy with anguish.

“And I’m giving you everything in return,” you replied.

His lips met yours then, desperate and searching, as though trying to carve this moment into eternity. When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the still night air. “If I lose you,” he said, his voice trembling, “I may never recover.”

“Then don’t lose me,” you whispered. “Not yet.”

And for the first time, Elijah Mikaelson let himself hope.

[bellowsmith]

List of things I'd find compelling in Tarn fics and have 0 time to write.

1. Religious mania, this mf has been high off his ass on every single substance and indoctrinated in a war cult from hell for 4 million years. Bro is having more visions than the goddamn oracle of Delphi at this rate. I think the implicit slow burn horror of realizing how fucked up he is either from his point of view or from another character's would be so goddamn interesting.

2. I just think the DJD being lost in deep space by themselves and forced to escape from some eldritch monstrosity that's beyond mortal comprehension a la annihilation style would be so interesting. Like how does a man who's already got a loose grip on reality with vocal weaponry gonna handle space cthulu?? How's a gaggle of space murder hobos gonna handle a prometheus/alien type of monster invasion? Bonus points for maximum body horror.

3. The implicit message that is Tarn being obsessed with classical music and perhaps able to play it, but never being able to write his own until something breaks him away from Megatron. Maybe he gets into new kinds of media, I feel like once he opens up his horizons he seems like a punk music scene kinda guy.

4. TAKE AWAY HIS T COGS AND DRUGS. I'm serious, put this man in critical condition and going through extreme withdrawals and see what happens when he is no longer capable of having his vices. Does he experience an epiphany? Does he realize how pathetic he is and do something about it? What's the DJD think about it? How does his personality change?

5. I just wanna watch him and starscream stab Megatron to death while holding hands. They've been through 4 million years of absolute shit while both thinking the other one is the "other woman". I just think they should be allowed to make each other worse and also hold hands about it. What better partner for a man seeking global domination than the most loyal bodyguard ever built?

That's the main gist of it for now. I have a master list of things that fascinate me about gods stupidest war criminal, but I don't feel like typing them all up right now. Perhaps I'll make a second post idk. Feel free to use these as you will, just let me read the damn thing.

[mouthpoisons]

i dont think im going to have time to make a super long ''the arcane is the narrative and its pushing everything towards viktor's apocalypse wizard ascension'' post Part Two but i need to get this really specific concept at least written down so i can go ''i told you so'' on saturday

i recommend reading the rest of my theory list first

jinx's big and catastrophic interactions with the arcane/hexgems/etc throughout the show so far are only ''jinxes'' from our's and the characters' perspectives. in actuality she is firmly acting on the arcane's will and furthering the plot with the necessary deaths and tragedies. the arcane has an end goal to turn viktor into heimerdinger's apocalpse wizard. absolutely nothing jinx has done so far has actually ''jinxed'' or ''derailed'' anything. she's acting according to plan, and pushing everyone towards this fixed end point.

jayce was saved and given a crystal as a child, kickstarting his lifelong obsession with harnessing magic

jinx had to drop one of his crystals and explode it for basically the whole story to be set into motion

she had to accidentlly kill vander/mylo/claggor and become unstable, guilt ridden, jinx the loose cannon. vander's body also had to be salvagable to become relevant to viktor's ascension later.

to us and the characters, jinx's big jinx nuke at the end of season one is so unfathomably tragic. we were on the brink of peace between the cities! the whole story pretty much couldve ended there! but jinx jinxes it, and very importantly, kills viktor, catalysing his fusion with the hexcore, the event horizon for him becoming the apocalypse wizard(killing cassandra is also obviously extremely important on the caitlyn and ambessa side of things)

i think act 3 will feature jinx pulling off her first actual jinx in the show. a jinx in service of the characters, not the arcane/narrative, that breaks them free of the path of doom. she's going to do something so sudden and destructive that it changes absolutely Everything in ways we never thought possible.

i really believe readings similar to the ones ive made about jinx and viktor (and briefly jayce at the start here) can be made for pretty much the entire main cast of the show, and i challenge the reader to go back and watch some scenes with the assumption that the arcane itself is alive and malicious and has an agenda. pay attention to what happens to all the weapons and macguffins, who gets killed and why. go in with the assumption that there have been no accidents. that we're watching a butterfly effect in reverse, we're converging to a fixed point, but everyone is going to jinx it and defy the narrative in act 3.

jinx cutting her hair (long and blue) as a symbolic cutting of the thread of fate, maybe. bombing the hexgate as a physical towering symbol of the arcane's control over everyone's lives, maybe. chinhand

[tikosblogg]

I've been in an angsty mood lately so I need something with Noah being a jerk and a cheater instead of typical fluffy and sweet. Please rip my heart out lol.

Summary: request. Noah ripping your heart out 🥲

Warning: mentions of sex, cheating.

A/N: hope this is what you wanted, this hurt to write 😭😭😭

The day felt like it had slipped through my fingers, dragging along with it a curious weight that plucked at my heart. For three years, my life had been intertwined with Noah's; his warm presence had become the horizon I could always return to. We laughed, we fought, and we loved fiercely, or at least we used to. Lately, clouds had gathered in the sky of our relationship, casting shadows that I couldn't ignore.

"Are you okay? You’ve been awfully quiet," I asked him an hour earlier while we bickered half-heartedly over dinner. His fork stalled above his plate, and he offered a flicker of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. I frowned. Something was off. The love we had always shared felt like it was fading. Gone were the days of impulsive kisses and the clothes that found themselves ripped off in a heat of the moment. Instead, we had settled into an unnerving routine.

"You know I’m just tired," Noah replied, shrugging it off, but the words land like dull thuds. He had always been my rock, yet I was slowly sinking, and he was miles above the surface. The last two weeks had been particularly devoid of intimacy, not that I was counting (though it certainly felt like I was). My thoughts spiraled as I tried to piece together what had changed.

When my friend Sarah suggested a girls' night, I was hesitant. Could a night away from the murky waters of my relationship reinvigorate me? Reluctantly, I decided it would do me good. Maybe it was time to step away and gain clarity.

I threw on a casual sundress, put on light makeup, and glanced in the mirror. Even with the flutter of doubt in my chest, I forced a smile. Maybe some time apart would do us all some good. I told Noah I was leaving, and to my surprise, he perked up, a brightness returning to his features that made me raise an eyebrow. “Have fun baby” he chimed, perhaps a little too eagerly.

As I made my way to Sarah's house, I tried to shake off the settling apprehension sinking into my stomach. The evening started off light and filled with chatter, laughter. But as the clock creeped toward ten, it became evident that Sarah had a much lower tolerance than I did; her laughter faded into giggles and then to incoherent mumblings as she slumped into a cacophony of drunken joy.

Deciding it was time to head home rather than wait for her to pass out completely, I gathered my belongings while providing her with promises of checking in on her later. My heart carried a heaviness as I walked back to my car, fingering the smooth metal of my phone nervously as I started the engine. If my evening had gone as planned, I would still be sharing stories and sneaking whispers at two a.m. Instead, I was headed into the uncertain quietness of my home.

The unfamiliar car parked awry in the driveway sent an immediate chill down my spine, twisting dread around my heart. My mind raced. A friend? Maybe? Surely Noah wouldn’t invite someone over without telling me. As I unlocked the door, an eerie silence invaded the house, wrecking my thoughts and heart alike.

“Hey, Noah?” I called out tentatively, my voice shaky. Silence remained, a waiting void, until I caught the faint sound of laughter wafting up the staircase. My heart dropped.

Every step up the stairs felt like walking into a surreal nightmare, the increasing volume of their voices echoing off the walls. When I pushed the door to our bedroom open, the sight that greeted me felt like the world collapsing around me.

There was Noah—my Noah, the man who promised to love me forever with a blonde woman straddling his bare hips. My breath hitched in my throat as I stood frozen, my heart racing in disbelief. "That’s it, baby, you’re so perfect,” I heard him say through clenched teeth. I swallowed hard, fighting the nausea rising in my throat.

And then something broke inside me. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, fueling my rage and sorrow, and I slapped the door wide open. Their bodies bolted apart, and Noah’s eyes widened in shock, horror mixing with the pale glow of the room. “I—I’m so sorry!” he stammered, desperately scrambling for words as he covered himself.

I stood there, a visceral anger spilling over my disbelief. “It meant nothing,” he pleaded. “Can you just let me explain?”

I couldn't hear him. My breath quickened, and it felt as if the weight of the world pressed down on my chest as I dove into the rawness of the situation. The reality of who I once thought he was shattered in front of me. With trembling hands, I turned to my closet, mind swirling as I yanked my suitcase from the shelf. “You don’t get to explain this,” I snapped, desperation clawing at me, pulling me into a dark pit where love once flourished. As I threw clothes into the bag, he stepped closer, determination etched on his face.

“Please, just listen to me,” he said, reaching out to pull my clothes from my arms, a frantic look taking over him. He was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, searching for words that would never suffice.

“Fuck you, Noah! There’s nothing you can say or do to fix this! You fucked up!” My voice trembled with anger as tears began to fall unbidden down my cheeks. I watched him shake his head, voice breaking. “Whatever… I was miserable half the time with you anyway,” he spat defiantly.

It was my turn to be shocked, but all I could manage was a laugh—bitter and hollow. As I zipped up my suitcase, I pulled his house key from my chain and tossed it onto the floor.

The blonde woman sat silently on the couch, a ghostly figure in my emotional battlefield. My gaze flickered to her before I gritted my teeth and looked back at Noah, anger rising in my chest like a storm. “You can fucking have him!” I sneered, my heart a vivid bruise that felt raw and exposed.

With every ounce of strength I had left, I turned on my heel, stretching my neck to glance back one last time at the man I thought I would grow old with. “I hope she was worth it,” I shot at him, each word a dagger that struck a nerve. My heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces, yet part of me reveled in the release. As I stepped out into the night, I found both fear and freedom coursing through me.

I was at a crossroads. The life I’d built had crumbled, but it left behind a strange sense of possibility—maybe this was the moment I would learn to spread my wings again and fly high above the wreckage he left behind.

[naranjapetrificada]

The first thing I should ever have said about Izzy and the last thing I intend to say until at least October 26th.

[Although I am not Her strongest soldier, so who knows if I will stick the landing.]

So to start with, I was a "late" arrival to the show. I knew it existed of course, but I only occasionally saw things that reminded me it existed. The first time I saw a mention of "grumpy/sunshine" it was with a picture of Ed and Stede, so I guess on some level I knew there was shipping going on, but that was literally all I knew. I didn't even know it involved Blackbeard lol.

Which is all to say that I first approached and watched season 1 removed from basically anything anyone had to say about it. I think what actually got me to watch it wasn't anything anyone had to say either, it was from youtube recommendations? Like I think I had watched a couple Taika interviews or something and ofmd stuff started showing up? So after catching a few clips and intentionally spoiling the kiss for myself (life is too short to be queerbaited) I watched it in April/May 2023, and was Changed by it the way so many other people were. It grabbed me so hard I started looking for fics, and when fic grabbed me even harder I became a regular tumblr user for the first time ever in June 2023.

What I didn't do, before the second half of 2023, was care particularly much about Izzy Hands.

I remember describing him as psychologically fascinating to the first IRL friend I talked to about the show, and joking that he just needed a good dom. As much as his decision to call in the navy was a threat to Stede's and Ed's lives, I saw his actions as part of a thing needed for the story, and while I knew he was one of the season's villains there wasn't really any heat behind that assessment.

For me he was there to set things in motion, and to serve the narrative in certain ways, to be a foil, more storytelling tool than man. That doesn't mean I didn't think Con did an excellent job adding layers to him, he absolutely made Izzy take up space and feel more present and textured than he otherwise might have. But when I began to zoom out and consider things on meta level, Izzy existed to do a certain thing or occupy a certain place in relation to the narrative and other characters more than anything else. And that was fine.

Then I started reading meta here, and found myself surrounded by passionate conversations about Izzy from many directions occurring with an intensity that I couldn't wrap my brain around. I saw people tying themselves into knots to justify and excuse the behavior of a textual antagonist, and I was baffled and because I still saw Izzy for what his role in the narrative was, it literally made no sense to see his behavior explained away. In the framework I brought to the fandom when I first arrived, trying to explain away Izzy's behavior would be like looking at a forest fire and trying to explain away processes like combustion and oxidation. Or if you'll allow me to borrow another extended, nature-based metaphor from a fic in an entirely different fandom:

Again, because from where my head was at, it didn't make sense to look at Izzy's morality as a zero sum game because in this metaphor, he was functionally just a brackish body of water. I'm not saying the morality is brackish, I'm saying the morality was literally not the point because like an estuary, an antagonist "must exist" because antagonists exist for specific reasons directly related to storytelling goals.

So there was no real heat behind my feelings about him or his actions, beyond the natural emotional reactions we have to characters and their behaviors before we zoom out. I was of course upset with his treatment of Lucius, which was targeted compared to other members of the crew. I was annoyed with the way he talked to and about Ed. I laughed when his plans had the equal and opposite results of what he intended, which you could argue happened with every single plan he made for the entirety of season 1. And yes, especially as a Black person living in the US, I felt the fear and betrayal that comes from seeing someone call the cops (which given the show and its writers, it does not feel like a stretch to describe calling the navy that). I wondered if there was any coming back from a choice like that, which is a big overriding question for the series as a whole.

I'm not here to debate any of the points in the previous paragraph. I know how I feel and you feel how you feel and there's already been so much said about the morality of it all by people who have explained themselves well, so let them convince you or not. Instead I've been trying to talk about the two sides of my experience before and after getting into the fandom with Izzy.

Before: Izzy Hands, Narratively Useful Antagonist Portrayed Compellingly And Effectively by Con O'Neill.

After: Izzy Hands, Unfortunate Avatar Of The Sadly Common Tendency For Certain Fans To Hyperfocus On A White Antagonist Or Secondary Character When There Already Exists A Protagonist They're A Foil Of (And Also It Looks Bad TO Do That When The Protagonist Is Someone With A Marginalized Identity).

I'm not here to argue the merits of those assessments either, because that's not the point. The point is the vast gulf between them and how the latter does such an incredible disservice to the Izzy we were given and that so many people claim to love. The latter comes from a place where morality is the focus, which I'm sorry y'all, feels like it originates with people who refuse to countenance Izzy's role in the story as well as his characterization.

Viewers who were willing to see Izzy as an antagonist, who don't view the word "antagonist" as a value judgement in and of itself, who don't think that finding an antagonist charismatic or compelling means anything about their own morality, those people can look at the show we were given and take it for what it was made to be. I'm not saying that it's only the Izzy stans (not enjoyers, not jar people) who start fights or that people who understand that Izzy is an antagonist don't also have deep morality related feelings about him and his actions in the first season. What I am saying is that sanding off Izzy's rough edges and trying to make him into something he isn't poisons even the possibility of having a discussion about him because people enter the conversation with two completely different understandings of reality. If you cannot accept the job that season 1 Izzy was given to do to move the story along, well you might as well have watched a completely different show for how much that fanon Izzy has anything to do with the canon one.

This show deserves better than that. The writers deserve better than that. Con O'Neill deserves better than that. Israel Basilica Hands deserves better than that. We all do.

[dstriple]

After watching Alien: Romulus, I felt like updating the part of my island in Animal Crossing dedicated to the ALIEN franchise.

Dream Address: 7125-6003-7296

BONUS DLC: 👇

Maybe some of you will enjoy having these posters of Rain & Andy. Use the Nintendo Switch mobile phone app to scan the QR Codes seen below. And then download the files in the game's "Custom Designs" app by pressing the minus button ( - ).

Extra pics: Outside the building you can see two statues that were seen in Alien: Covenant (David by Michelangelo) and in Alien: Romulus (the Capitoline Wolf).

[chocokano]

it is officially the one year anniversary of hz episode 16, aka THE spinel pokemon episode, therefore!

a redraw of my very first (08/01/23) digital drawing of spinel (*'▽'*)

plus cool overlay hehe

i can't believe it's been a whole year since he got his big episode ∑(ﾟДﾟ) i don't think i'll ever be as excited for any episode as i was for 16

here's to another year of this freak !! maybe he'll actually show up soon outside of a 5 second appearance that sets up him being suspicious just for it to be forgotten for months

og under cut! (old art alert)

[pumpkinsouppe]

Klavier and Julian are the same character !!

When I finished up the museum last month Julian told me he was in a band until he had a falling out with a band member and omfg

[robo-dino-puppy]

horizon forbidden west | nil 2/?

[bonefall]

Feel free to ignore you've probably got a lot going on right now, but considering you know a lot about DOTC and Clear sky, I had a question...

We know that he's a terrible, misogynistic, woman beating and war mongering lunatic who was excused of all his actions because his equally misogynistic brother said " But-But he's nice! Deep down! This isn't the real him! "

But! In a world where the Hunters could write such a character, what do you think Clear Sky would look like as an actual sympathetic villain?

Idk if that makes sense, but what I've thought of doing is taking purely cannon Clear Sky and attempting to change him enough that he's still an antagonist, but not too far where only Reddit defends him.

I don't think he works as a sympathetic villain, on any level, ever. I think you're making a huge mistake to even try, and I have never seen an AU where it was done well nor am I interested in entertaining the thought.

Characters. Are. Tools. They exist to tell a story. The story that people tell me, by obsessing over some alternate universe where he was "ACTUALLY sympathetic and had a REAL redemption arc," is that they're not fucking interested in his dozens of victims. Nor do they actually care about the abusive impact he had on the minds and feelings of his family. They're JUST interested in Clear Sky himself.

Just like the Erins. Everything that happens in DOTC revolves around him. Everything. All his wives die so he can be sad about it. His brother defends all of his actions and BEGS you to sympathize with his pain so he can be 'redeemable.' One Eye comes out of nowhere so that there can be an example of "real" evil to contrast Clear Sky so he's less bad in hindsight.

The first three books of DOTC are bad, but the last three are fucking insufferable because SUDDENLY all that Gray Wing apologia pays off, and they take their main villain and throw him out a window. You CAN'T have "redeemable" Clear Sky and the plot of DOTC without dragging in someone else to drive the conflict, to BE the bigger threat to "unite" against. Slash and One Eye have to be conjured up out of thin air so Clear Sky can WHINE about how people only suck his toes instead of deepthroat them after he killed all their friends.

And yet, in spite of this absolute failure of an attempt, we continue to see this bullshit "redemption" be a mistake because Clear Sky is a fantastic villain, with major antagonist roles in nearly EVERY bit of follow-up material for DOTC that came after.

He's the most consistent monster in all of Warriors.

He's a fragile, egotistical, self-absorbed megalomaniac who ALWAYS sees himself as the victim, REFUSING to self-reflect and blaming everything else for all of his terrible choices. He will USE your love of him against you like it's a chain through your nose, step out of line and he will yank you into place with guilt trips, manipulation, public shaming, and violence.

He's a child abuser. He's a tyrant. He abandons the sick and disabled as soon as they're of no use to him, with grand speeches about "illness" and "weakness." He's a murderer who stands above the shredded corpse of his victim and bellows, "I'M NOT GREEDY! I'M JUST STRONG!"

And you'd write a "good" redemption arc for this, why?

Why are people so chronically unable to accept that there are LOTS of people like him, and you can't save your abuser? Why don't you ask yourselves why you're not interested in exploring Thunder, or Petal, or Gray Wing, and how his toxic influence impacts them? Why does the sympathy fall on Clear Sky? What about the DOZENS of victims who are dead by Book 3, and how THEY could have been saved?

Why ruin a perfectly good villain?

What's behind this trend where a billion people say to me, "Yes Clear Sky is a walking cavalcade of fucked up abuse apologia, and an incredibly realistic depiction of an abuser, but how would you change this while keeping it all the same?"

I wouldn't. You can't. It wouldn't be the same story, or it wouldn't be the same character. Never seen it done well, and I have seen it a lot. So I don't entertain this deeply frustrating "Well What If Clear Sky But Nice" impulse.