#they are going to destroy the world together

[angelsndragons]

so my forever gm needed a break. given that this was my only in-person game and i wanted to retain that connection to my community, i volunteered to run the next campaign so she could take a break and just enjoy playing.

i decided to go with a module i knew, having been a pc in it a few years prior: storm king's thunder. i took her copy of the book and started reading.

and nearly threw it through a window in frustration.

for those of you who don't know, the core giant races in the book are very star trek hat-esque. they have Their Thing and that's it. almost all of the giant npcs are evil and out to destroy the world of smallfolk using their delegated hats. there was a shakespearean drama happening at certain points behind the scenes but nothing else in the book supported that level of complexity with the giants or with the scripted encounters in the book. okay so you're telling me a small goblin tribe has holed up in a cave system and when a bunch of villagers flee into said cave, they...take them all prisoner and go raid their village? after learning that the villagers were fleeing from a giant attack on said village? after learning that most of the guards are still in the village proper, defending the broken keep? really? nah, man, that's just not engaging with the goblins as a culture and people.

i think the worst offenders are the hill giants. they're given heinously low soft stats, are treated as nothing more than glutinous sacks of hit points, and they're the fucking butt of the joke. two hill giants can't navigate their way back to their home base after an attack (meaning that the players can't use said hill giants to scout and find the place either). they're tricked at every interval. the big hill giant plot is for the chief to eat literally any and all food her minions can bring her so that she'll grow to be the biggest giant in existence. yes, she too is treated like the butt of a joke for daring to think that that plan is good or viable. she's so fat (and the book goes into this over and over) that she can no longer walk and the wagon she's seated on is broken and hasn't been repaired. she is in fact so fat and so stupid that she forgets that she has a macguffin the party needs. oh and the book goes into great detail about how slovenly and disgusting her place is and then has the nerve throw in a "overbearing wife beats and bullies her husband" joke in there just to round out the misery. this whole ass culture of bad guys is treated like they are goddamn animals, not people.

needless to say i have chucked a great deal of this. the goblins are practical survivalists (we are small and easily squished, if we can't hide we go along until we can escape) and when ogres and giants moved in, they decided to follow orders to gather food right up until the party gives them a legitimate out. thanks to their intervention, this group of goblins are off the board as future enemies and will in fact be appearing as occasional help (one of my players decided they liked the goblins so much that they created a new character to be from that group).

the hill giants now have traditions surrounding food preparation and preservation that go back thousands of years and much of the small folk's current tech in that department is based off of hill giant innovations, which the party is learning about. their ancestors sleep in the hilly regions of the world, growing and growing together, their sometimes living bodies make up the very ground that the small folk walk on and find nourishment from. the hill giants, along with their stone and cloud brethren, are the only giants who remember that giants become one with the land. one amongst many slowly dying giant races and they choose to, well, not embrace it but find peace in it. they're still gullible and still view size as incredibly important but one's skill in the culinary arts can propel them to leadership. chief guh is a culinary visionary who perfected the art of preparing dragon meat and as giants and dragons are enemies beyond memory, that is quite the feat. will the party come to blows with her? i mean, maybe. but at least she and her people won't end up as 'dumb, slow, fat' person jokes.

framing is so important you guys. it's work but it is so worth it. i had my players spitting nails at the racist, isolationist elves whom the village the party was helping were counting on for survival. i had them tearing up as they decided to knowingly walk a group of orcs to their deaths at the hands of the racist, isolationist elves because it was the only way the elves would agree to supply the village through a brutal winter after the village lost everything. one elf, just one, was curious, if completely incorrect, about the outside world and mostly respectful to the pcs. one of the players is now penpals with him and has sent him a history of the sword coast he otherwise doesn't have access to because his people Do Not Care about the world beyond their borders. the campaign is richer for delving deeper into these cultures and people

Putting all tabletop players into a college level ethics class and forcing them to turn in a paper on moral philosophy before buying a new book

[checkeredflagggs]

Footnote of a Story

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: Logan and his girlfriend have been together for over 10 years — people have posted about it 8 times

a/n: this is canon to the story of us story, just some backstory that probably won’t be talked about in the main story at all

a/n2: I fiddled about with the timeline of the Covid quarantine — namely that it was already happening by Valentine’s Day

a/n3: I also don’t know when Oscar and Lily started dating so here it’s when they’re 16

Masterlist | Taglist

10 Years Old

y/ns_mother

liked by sargeant1, l/n1, sargeant2, and 183 others

y/ns_mother: well it looks like y/n has a crush…she was very determined to make “the bestest card ever and make sure it’s the good candy mom!”

view all comments

sargeant1: logan was the same way…he nearly talked me into buying a bouquet bigger then is he for her

↳y/ns_mother: they’re so adorable

↳sargeant1: they really are

sargeant2: oh young love…

↳l/n1: i guess when you know you know…doesn’t matter the age…i guess

↳sargeant2: they are very cute together

randocousin: giving us all old timers a bad name 😹

↳drunkaunt: bah they won’t last…once they get to the real world…nothing ever lasts…

↳rudecousin: just cause your marriage failed doesn’t mean theirs will. You’re just a mean old drunk

↳randocousin: not this shit again…

not_y/n: not_logan I told you — I knew very young that you were the one for me

↳not_logan: I won’t doubt you again babe

↳not_y/n: I don’t know why you doubted me in the first place ngl liked by not_logan

not_oscar: oh so you guys have always been this grossly in love

↳not_y/n: booo you grinch liked by not_logan, not_lilyz

12 Years Old

y/n_mother

liked by l/n1, drunkaunt, weirduncle, sargeant3, 212 others

y/ns_mother: we might have a little baker on our hands…y/n was adamant that she had to cook these cookies all by herself

view all comments

l/n1: she didn’t even let me have one…

sargeant3: logan was beaming when he came home with these…

↳y/ns_mother: I’m not going to tell them of course…but we’ve started a little wedding fund for them

↳sargeant3: so have we. It’s very obvious where this is going to go

↳y/ns_mother: oh I can’t wait…

drunkaunt: their still together??

↳rudecousin: they’re*

↳rudecousin: and they are! Shockingly relationships can last longer then the hangover the next day

↳drunkaunt: do not start something with me…you weren’t they’re for it

↳rudecousin: there*

↳randocousin: must you rudecousin?

↳rudecousin: she makes it so easy!

↳drunkaunt: your a mean little man

↳randocousin: don’t

↳rudecousin: …you’re drunkaunt

not_logan: I didn’t know you baked those!

↳not_y/n: yeah that was the last time I attempted that

↳not_y/n: not pictured was my mom’s destroyed kitchen…liked by not_logan

14 Years Old

y/n privated a post

liked by y/ns_mother, sister, logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 469 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/n: 💜💜 he got me a card!

view all comments

logansargeant: I always get you a card!

↳y/n: I know but now I can post it for everyone to see!

y/ns_mother: oh to see you guys now…4 years strong

↳y/n: moooooommm go be embarrassing on your own post

oscarpiastri: so you’re the reason he couldn’t stop looking at his phone?

↳y/n: I am! And you are?

↳logansargeant: y/n this is one of my friends from karting! Meet Oscar — he’s the Australian

↳y/n: hi Australian Oscar!

↳oscarpiastri: don’t you mean best friend logansargeant?

↳y/n: HE DOES NOT CAUSE THATS ME!!

↳logansargeant: my best karting friend but the best friend spot has always been hers liked by y/n

16 Years Old

not_logan

liked by not_y/n, not_oscar, not_lilyz, and 392 others

tagged: not_y/n

not_logan: a small day spent together before someone goes off on a national tour!

Congrats baby — I’m so fucking proud of you 🩵🩵

view all comments

not_y/n: thank you babe! For both the day and for the constant support you’ve given me over the years

↳not_logan: always!

not_oscar: congrats again on the tour y/n!

↳not_y/n: thanks osc! And lmk if you can make any of the dates — I’ll get you tickets

↳not_oscar: oh Logan already has it all planned out

↳not_y/n: awwww

y/ns_mother: oh I’m so proud of you two

↳not_y/n: mom please…

↳not_logan: thanks mum l/n!

↳not_y/n: don’t encourage her!

not_lilyz: oh you guys are so cute!

↳not_y/n: thanks Lily!

↳not_y/n: and thanks again for making a private account

↳not_lilyz: oh that’s not a problem — and is probably good planning for the future

↳not_oscar:😳😳

yoursister: haven’t heard from drunkaunt in a while…she ok?

↳rudecousin: still drunk and mean

↳not_y/n: it’s just neither Logan or I friended her — in fact I blocked her on this account 😂

↳yoursister: good call

18 Years Old

not_y/n

liked by not_logan, y/ns_mother, not_oscar, not_lilyz, and 273 others

tagged: not_logan

not_y/n: awwwweee… my baby surprised me back in Florida. Thank you for coming home to me for Valentine’s Day

view all comments

not_logan: glad I managed to catch you before you leave me again 😔

↳not_y/n: nooooo I’m so sorry baby

↳not_y/n: you say the word and I’ll pack you up in my suitcase and take you everywhere with me

↳not_logan: …I’m not there yet but I’ll let you know

y/ns_mother: oh I’m so glad you managed to catch her…with my handwriting I wasn’t sure if she left the 13th or the 18th…

↳not_logan: thanks for all your help mum l/n!

↳not_y/n: thanks for helping him surprise me mama

↳y/ns_mother: of course baby

not_oscar: I don’t think that’s part of your diet Logan…

↳not_lilyz: like you haven’t cheated on yours a hundred times in the last month…

↳not_oscar: 😑😑

↳not_y/n: have I mentioned I love you recently lily?? liked by not_lilyz

rudecousin: heads up — drunkaunt spotted this over my shoulder and started a rant while going for her keys

↳not_y/n: …I’m gonna go start my tour early…

↳not_logan: I’m gonna head back to England real fast

↳yoursister: cowards

↳not_y/n: yup

↳not_logan: absolutely

20 Years Old

not_logan

liked by not_y/n, not_oscar, not_lilyz, and 231 others

tagged: not_y/n

not_logan: fun activities to do while locked up during Valentine’s Day…

view all comments

not_y/n: we’re gonna be cooking champs by the time this ends 💪🏻

↳not_logan: I love you so much but I really hope we’re not locked up that long…

↳not_y/n: 🥺🥺🥺

↳not_logan: again I love you so much but we burned water yesterday…

↳not_y/n: ok that’s fair

↳not_oscar: how???

↳not_y/n: we’re simply that talented

↳not_logan: we got distracted 😉😉

↳not_oscar: ewww I don’t need to know that liked by not_y/n, not_logan

y/ns_mother: oh I hope you guys are doing ok…I’d be there for you if I could…love you guys…

↳not_y/n: we’re doing ok mama!!

↳not_logan: …we’re not dead yet but our lack of kitchen skills are becoming more evident…

↳y/ns_mother: oh no…don’t worry baby…I’ll get yoursister to help me video you…I’ll teach you to cook…

↳not_y/n: thank you mama 🙏🙏

not_lilyz: ok so I’m a little jealous…

↳not_y/n: awwww lily we miss you!

↳not_lilyz: miss you guys too

↳not_oscar: 🤨

↳not_lilyz: …their food looks so much better than yours

↳not_y/n: at least you guys can cook something — ours is just anything we could cut into a heart shape… liked by not_lilyz, not_oscar

bandmember: you guys are so cute…

↳not_y/n: thank you 😊

↳not_y/n: also check your mail…there might be something for you…😈😈😈

↳bandmember2: oh???????

sargeant4: how’s the weather over there?

↳not_logan: 😑🙄 cold and snowy

↳not_logan: not that we can see any of it…

↳not_y/n: it could be worse!

↳not_logan: how?

↳not_y/n: we could be stuck in your apartment and not my house

↳not_logan: …that’s true I guess

22 Years Old

logansargeant posted a story, not_y/n posted a story

[thank you to my girl! 🩵🩵🩵][oh Logan my love���an ocean apart and yet you spoil me so…]

user1 replied A GIRL?!? Logan Sargeant do you have a girlfriend!

user2 replied GIRLFRIEND???

georgerussell63 replied oh that’s cute!

oscarpiastri replied maybe I need to tag Lily in this…

↳logansargeant oh she’s already seen it

↳oscarpiastri 🫣😨

↳logansargeant didn’t know you wanted flowers and presents though…

↳oscarpiastri who doesn’t…

oscarpiastri replied you guys keep setting the bar high

↳not_y/n gotta get on my level osc

↳oscarpiastri 🙄

lilyzneimer replied brb going to make Oscar take notes…

↳not_y/n he said pretty much the same thing…

↳lilyzneimer 🤣🤣

yoursister replied you guys are literally the only reason I believe in love still

↳not_y/n awww babes it’ll happen for you soon

↳yoursister maybe sooner than you think…

↳not_y/n oh???

y/ns_mother replied oh your young love…

↳not_y/n he’s the one mama

↳y/ns_mother oh baby I know…I’ve known for over a decade now…

↳not_y/n 🥰🥰🥰

25 Years Old (after the Story of Us)

y/n

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer and 12,697,283 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/n: You can hear it in the silence, You can feel it on the way home, You are in love, true love

view all comments

user3: oh my god so lovely!

user4: Logan Sargeant I wasn’t familiar with your game…

lilymhe: oh my god did Logan get you all that?

↳y/n: he did! He’s a real romantic

↳lilymhe: awww 🥺

↳lilymhe: alex_albon take notes please

↳alex_albon: oh no

↳oscarpiastri: oh this is very common

↳oscarpiastri: get used to it. They’ve been like this since they were 10

↳user5: shut up that’s so cute

oscarpiastri: please stop

↳logansargeant: I will not.

↳y/n: you just gotta do better

↳oscarpiastri: I try but you guys keep raising the bar

↳y/n: skill issue

↳user6: you can tell you guys have been friends for a while…

↳y/n: about 10 years now!

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @Voidvannie @justaf1girl @theendofthematerialgworl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478

[scissorcentral]

Abby with a reader who's just •_• bug eyed and silent lmao, very oblivious to everything, always in their own world, but very endearing and sweet to abs <3

Abby with a more introverted(?) reader-

warnings- (there aren't really i don't think)

-Abby literally thinks you are the most adorable human being ever. Whenever you space out during group discussions, she literally can't help but laugh to herself before slinging her arm around you and holding you against her until you come back to reality (because of course you're always directly next to her).

-If anyone tries to make little jokes or tease you about your speaking habits or anything about you, she will shut them up so fast you literally won't even have time to notice. It gets a point where nobody even thinks about trying because Abby will either clap back, aiming to destroy their ego, or give them the most insane death glare. Like the type of look that could kill, and it probably could if she tried hard enough.

-You can't help but mess with her fingers and drift off sometimes and she literally will have like hearts in her eyes as she watches you. You're completely silent just running your fingers all over her hands and she will just watch in awe with a soft blush on her cheeks. She's literally enamored by you and whatever you do.

-Whenever you are out on patrol together, she ALWAYS makes sure to keep an eye on you no matter what. She knows you can get a little off track, your mind sometimes wandering causing you to wander a bit to. After her dad's death she refuses to lose you so she makes sure to never let you out of her sight as long as she can help it.

-Sometimes you guys will sneak off and find a building with an accessible roof and you will just sit for hours. Sometimes you guys won't even speak, and other times Abby will talk for the entire time as you listen to every word she says. Sometimes its rant and other times it's some stupid store that sends you both into a fit of giggles. Her main goal is always getting some laughs out of you which she always does, rant or not. She lives for the sound of your laughter.

-Her dream is to be able to see the world through your eyes. How you are able to get through most of your days without talking or talking so little. How you can be so oblivious to things but also so insightful to other things. She is so obsessed with you and how you go about your life. She wishes she could know what it's like, but even though she really can't she does everything in her power to understand you.

-Before you guys got together, Abby had been literally in love with you, but you never noticed her advances. She would get so angry, like screaming into her pillow angry. It would make her so embarrassed how pathetic she'd get but she still continued to try. Eventually you caught on after she had to be so extremely blunt. Now the whole thing is something she just teases you about, but your obliviousness is something she has grown to completely love. It's so cute to her now(it wasn't cute when she was putting her reputation on the line with her extremely obvious advances(well obvious to everyone but you))

-If you ever get lost in your head she's always there to try and ease you out. It becomes a thing she is really good at. Holding you close to her, her thumbs rubbing softly over your skin, light kisses on your temple. It's sweet and something you become incredibly grateful for. You will always show your appreciation by leaving a new coin on her nightstand that you had secretly found on a patrol.

-Abby makes it her fucking mission to see you smile. Whatever she has to do she will do (which can be a little concerning). She thinks your smile is the cutest thing in the world and would literally die to see it once more.

-If anyone in the stadium says legit one negative word about you, she will lose it. Nobody is allowed to talk bad about you. Ever. She is so extremely protective of you. You're her everything. She knows you aren't classified as a "completely normal person" by everyone's else's standards but that's why she loves you so much. The way your eyes will glaze over slightly when you space out, the way you'll just stare at people when they send you a backhanded compliment, and the way she's the only person who gets to hear you speak and even then, it's usually quiet whispers. You've got her completely whipped. You got the Abby Anderson completely and utterly whipped.

notes- Hi. I am actually horrified to post this as I haven't written and posted on Tumblr in multiple years so it's weird to be back. This is such shit, but I hope you do enjoy. To me this writing feels like a fourth grader who just learned a few new vocab words but whatever. I'll probably go back and fix it and add more but I'm still having a crisis from just writing this so we will see. Hope you like it.

(also i didn't know how to word the title but i tried.)

[onebadassunicorn]

Love Lies

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: angst, talk of poisoning and potential death, smut (18+), some fluff

word count: 5.9k

Permanent taglist: @motheroffae @tele86 @demon-master-zero

Azriel permanent taglist: @kathren1sky-blog

Taglist @sinfully-yoursss @sillyfreakfanparty @phoenix666stuff @ quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @hellohauntedturnstudent @love-over-fears @kk191327 @i-am-infinite @historygeekqueen @yourdarkrose @fr0stfall @dnfhascorruptedme

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

********

Chapter 13

Elain sat rigid in her chair, her usually serene expression twisted into something raw—something close to fear.

Her delicate hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her breath uneven, eyes wide as they darted between you and Azriel.

But neither of you moved.

Neither of you spoke just yet.

You simply stared at her, at the woman who had once been kind, once been a friend, once been someone you trusted—and now, was nothing more than a poisonous snake, a traitor who had carved a knife into your back and twisted it until you could barely breathe.

Azriel stood beside you, his golden eyes burning with fury, with disgust, with a level of loathing you had never seen in him before. His shadows curled and snapped violently around his boots, barely restrained.

Elain shifted, swallowed hard, but still, she didn’t speak first.

So you did.

Your voice was ice, sharp enough to cut through the thick silence of the room.

“You were my friend.”

Elain flinched, as if she hadn’t been expecting that.

You took a step forward, your hands clenched into tight fists at your sides.

“You sat in my home, in my kitchen, and you spoke to me about the future—about my future with him.” Your voice trembled with barely contained rage, betrayal, agony. “And all the while, you were slipping poison into his tea.”

Elain’s face crumpled, her eyes filling with tears. “I—I didn’t mean for it to go that far,” she choked out, shaking her head. “I just—I just loved him so much. I wanted him to love me back.”

Azriel let out a low, sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it.

Your body shook as you tried to hold yourself together, as you tried to stop yourself from doing what you really wanted to do—rip her apart with your bare hands.

“You loved him?” you hissed, incredulous. “This is how you treat someone you love?”

Elain let out a choked sob, shaking her head frantically. “I never wanted to hurt either of you! I just—I just wanted to be with him.” She turned pleading eyes to Azriel, but he didn’t move, didn’t speak. His expression remained cold, detached—like he was looking at a stranger.

Azriel’s thoughts were a storm—dark, violent, raging.

He had spent months under her influence, feeling his mind turn to fog, feeling something wrong yet unable to grasp what it was.

He had woken up in a world where he had already destroyed everything he loved, only to learn that it was not his doing at all.

And yet, the pain was his to bear.

The nights you spent alone, crying in the bed that was meant to be shared—the nights you ached for him while he unknowingly drifted further and further away—that was still his fault.

Because he had let it happen.

Because he had been blind.

He had been so careful all his life, always one step ahead, always knowing when someone was deceiving him. And yet, the one time it mattered the most, the one time it was his own happiness on the line, he had failed.

And he had lost you because of it.

Until now.

Until this moment—where he stood before the woman who had stolen his choices, his mind, his love for you—and he felt nothing but hatred.

Elain turned back to you, her shoulders hunched, small, as if she could curl into herself and disappear.

You weren’t done.

“You wanted him to love you,” you whispered, shaking your head. “But love isn’t something you steal, Elain. Love is given freely.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her chest heaving. “I just wanted him to see me.”

“You didn’t want to be invisible?” you asked, tilting your head. “So, you decided to erase me instead?”

Azriel had never felt such disgust in his entire life.

He had faced monsters, murderers, traitors, had seen the worst kinds of evil—and yet, none of them had made his stomach turn quite like Elain Archeron.

Because she had nearly destroyed him.

Not with a blade or shadows or war—but with something far more insidious.

Poison. Manipulation. Lies.

And now, standing before her, watching as she crumbled beneath the weight of her own treachery, all he felt was revulsion.

Because this girl, this delicate, soft-spoken creature who had pretended to be nothing more than sweet and kind, had nearly cost him everything.

Had nearly cost him you.

And he would never forgive her for that.

Azriel’s hand never left your waist, his grip firm, grounding, possessive, unshakable—because he needed you to feel it.

Needed you to know that he was here, that he was yours, that no one—not Elain, not fate, not the Cauldron itself—would ever take him from you again.

“You made him believe he didn’t love me,” you breathed, voice shaking with fury. “You made him think I wasn’t enough.” Your chest heaved, rage burning your lungs, your throat, every part of you. “And for what?”

Elain’s lip trembled. “I—I didn’t mean for it to—”

“But it was not only me you hurt,” you cut her off, your voice trembling with uncontained fury. “You could have killed Azriel.”

Elain’s entire body stilled, her face draining of all color. “What—what do you mean?”

You let out a cold, humorless laugh, your nails biting into your palms. “Did you even bother to look up what you were giving him? Did you think beyond your own selfish desires?”

Azriel exhaled sharply beside you, as if he couldn’t stand another second of being in her presence.

“You were so desperate for him when he was never meant to be yours, and you nearly destroyed him. The tonic you gave him,” you hissed, watching as her expression twisted into fear, “Nettlewisp, in high doses, causes paranoia, hallucinations, and irreversible brain damage. And if he had kept taking it for much longer in large doses, he could have died.”

Elain paled, her lips parting slightly, eyes going wide with horror. “I—I didn’t know -”

"Didn’t know?" Azriel’s voice was like a blade cutting through the air, filled with nothing but pure, unfiltered disgust.

"You knew exactly what you were doing," he spat, his wings tensing, shadows curling angrily around his feet.

"You wanted me to leave my mate, to turn my back on the only person who has ever truly mattered to me. And you poisoned me to do it."

Elain sobbed harder, but Azriel didn’t care.

There was no more pity left inside him.

“I—I thought it would just… make you love me,” she whispered, voice shaking.

Azriel spoke, his voice a low, lethal growl.

“I never loved you.”

Elain stilled, her face crumbling.

And the way he looked at Elain now was something you had never seen before.

It wasn’t just anger.

It wasn’t just disgust, disappointment, or even loathing.

It was hatred.

A deep, seething, unshakable hatred that poured from him in waves, curling in his shadows like a living, breathing force of darkness.

His golden eyes, once warm and filled with devotion whenever they met yours, were now hard, cold, unyielding as they burned into the female who had stolen his choices, his mind, his love for you.

And you—

You didn’t know what to feel as you watched him stare at her like she was nothing.

Because this was the same Azriel who had once spent hours with her in the gardens, helping her adjust to Velaris, answering her quiet questions, listening to her speak of the world she had lost. The same Azriel who had once believed he was helping her heal—who had once believed she was I n need of kindness.

Now, he saw the truth.

Now, he saw her for what she really was.

And the complete absence of warmth, of pity, of even the smallest ounce of care in his face sent a shudder through you.

Because Elain had truly lost him.

Forever.

And some part of you reveled in that.

Some part of you relished the way his voice turned sharp, the way his words sliced into her like cold, merciless steel.

Azriel took a single step forward, his entire body radiating fury, his wings flaring slightly, his shadows curling ravenously at his feet.

Elain flinched, looking at him as if begging for mercy.

But there was none left to give.

“You were an acquaintance to me, nothing more,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth, any kindness, any mercy.

His golden eyes burned like molten fire.

“I was helping you because Feyre asked me to, because you refused to be around Lucien, and I thought I was doing my High Lady a favor.” He said, his expression unforgiving and unyielding. “You were a duty I fulfilled. Nothing more. I would have never fallen in love with you.”

Elain shook her head violently, her hands trembling as she clutched at her skirts. “No—no, that’s not true,” she whispered, desperate, broken. “You—you cared about me. You were falling in love with me.”

“No. I wasn’t.” His voice turned sharp, final. “And I never would have.”

He stared at Elain with that unwavering, icy hatred, there was no restraint.

There was only truth.

And it struck you then, with the full force of realization—

He truly hated her.

He hated her in a way that only someone who had been deeply betrayed could hate.

And you understood it.

Because you felt that same hatred.

You wanted to rip her apart with your bare hands, to make her feel even a fraction of the pain she had inflicted upon you.

You had dreamt of watching her fall to pieces, of watching her realize that all of her manipulation, all of her efforts, all of her scheming—had been for nothing.

You thought you would feel triumphant, knowing that Azriel had no love left for her—that he saw her now with the same revulsion you did.

And yet—

There was something about it that made you ache.

Not for her. Never for her.

But for him.

Because the Azriel who had once helped her adjust to this world, who had once thought he was doing a good thing, who had once trusted her enough to even let her near him—

That Azriel had been betrayed beyond measure.

And it had broken something in him.

His hatred was not hot, not wild or reckless—it was cold, calculating, merciless.

A hatred born not just from anger, but from deep, unshakable contempt.

And seeing it—truly seeing it in him now, so openly displayed for the first time—

It hurt.

Because it meant he was still hurting.

Because it meant Elain had taken something from him, too.

Not just from you.

Not just from the relationship you had spent years building together.

She had taken his choices.

She had taken his trust.

And as you watched him stand there, the rage simmering just beneath the surface, you knew—

This was his reckoning, too.

Azriel's golden eyes bore into hers, and when he spoke next, his voice was clear, unwavering, and final.

"There has only ever been one person I have loved," he murmured, tilting his head toward you. "And there will never be another." His voice turned sharp as steel. "You could have poisoned me for eternity, and I still would have never loved you."

The words hung in the air, curling around you like something sacred, something devastatingly precious.

Your breath hitched, your heart clenching violently, your entire body locking up as if the world had just shifted beneath you.

You felt everything at once.

A rush of vindication, a flood of anger, sorrow, longing, love—all of it, all at the same time, tearing through your chest like a storm too wild to control.

Because this—this was what you had been waiting to hear.

Not just that Elain had stolen his choices. Not just that he had been poisoned and manipulated.

But that his love for you had never wavered.

Not once.

Even when he thought he had left you, even when he had walked away from you in that alley, when he had believed he wanted something else—it had never been true.

It had never been real.

And hearing it—hearing him say it, in front of her, knowing that he was fully himself again, knowing that he had come back to you with love still in his heart—

It made your knees weak.

It made your lungs feel tight, your throat burn, your pulse race.

Because after everything, after all the months of agony, after thinking you had lost him, after believing you were no longer enough for him—

He was still yours.

He had been yours all along.

Azriel’s head snapped toward you, his golden eyes filled with a depth of emotion so overwhelming it nearly stole your breath away. “I have only ever loved you. I will only ever love you. Nothing—not her, not anything—could ever change that.”

He was standing before you now, himself again, the male who had always loved you fiercely, wholly, irrevocably.

The male who would do anything to fix what had been broken.

And you still loved him.

Elain’s lips quivered, tears slipping down her cheeks, but neither of you cared anymore.

You stared down at her, at the pitiful, broken creature before you, and for the first time, you felt nothing.

No pity.

No sadness.

No remorse.

And now, as she sat there, falling apart in the wake of her own ruin, you felt only justice.

“You are a pathetic excuse for a fae,” you murmured, voice low and deadly calm. “And exile is too kind for what you’ve done.” You inhaled sharply. “But I will support my High Lord’s decision, even though you deserve so much worse.”

Elain looked up at you, her face a mess of tears, her expression twisted in guilt and shame.

You let out a slow breath, shaking your head. “I used to feel bad for Lucien,” you admitted, staring at her as if she were a stranger. “I thought it was cruel, the way you pushed him away, the way you acted like he was some burden to bear.” You smiled then, but it was cold, empty. “But now? Now I realize Lucien is the lucky one.”

Elain let out a quiet sob, her entire body hunched in on itself.

“Because you will NEVER be good enough for him,” you sneered. “Because you are selfish, weak, and cruel. You will never deserve him.”

She let out a broken gasp, her eyes filled with pain, with regret, with loss.

But you didn’t care.

“I came here wanting to physically hurt you…slap you, punch you, anything to make you feel the pain and hurt you caused me,” you said, your voice light, almost thoughtful. “But now I realize—you aren’t even worth it.”

Elain’s face crumpled.

You stepped over to her, but speaking loud enough for Azriel to hear your last words.

“This is the last time I will think of you,” you murmured, “but I know you will think of me every single day.” Your voice was a soft whisper of victory. “When I am with Azriel, the love of my life and the mate you could never have. He is mine.”

"And he was never yours," you whispered, your voice like a whispered promise, like a blade gliding across silk.

Azriel’s entire body shuddered, something dark and fierce and possessive curling in his chest, something that sent a violent wave of emotion surging through the bond.

Yours.

You were claiming him.

Gods—you still wanted him.

After everything, after all the pain, all the betrayal, all the nights you had spent crying yourself to sleep, after he had failed you so utterly, after he had let Elain’s poison seep into him and turn him into a version of himself that you had not recognized—

You still wanted him.

You still chose him.

Not just as your mate, but as your love, your partner, your forever.

And gods, he had never wanted anything more than to belong to you.

Because you were right.

He had never been Elain’s.

Not for a single second.

Not even when the poison had clouded his mind, not even when she had stolen his emotions, twisted his thoughts, made him believe he wanted something else.

Even then, even when his mind had been warped beyond recognition, his soul had still belonged to you.

And now, hearing you say it—hearing you say it with such certainty, with such quiet, unshakable conviction—

Something inside him cracked wide open.

It undid him.

Completely.

His breathing turned ragged, his hands clenching at his sides, his shadows curling in slow, reverent waves around his boots, no longer frantic, no longer restless.

Because this was all he had ever wanted.

To be yours.

To be claimed by you, chosen by you, loved by you.

To stand at your side, where he had always belonged.

Elain let out a choked, shattered noise, as if those words had been the final blow, the final nail in the coffin of her ruined, twisted fantasy.

But Azriel didn’t look at her.

Not anymore.

Because there was only one person in this world who mattered to him.

Only one person he would spend the rest of his life making it up to.

Only one person he would worship for as long as he lived.

Elain let out a shaky, broken sob, her body trembling as she folded into herself, her arms wrapping around her chest as if trying to hold together the shattered pieces of her own ruin.

And he—

He felt nothing.

Nothing but satisfaction.

Because she deserved this.

She deserved to sit in the wreckage of her own destruction, to watch the world she had so desperately tried to steal crumble into nothing before her.

Because she had never been his choice.

Not then.

Not now.

Not ever.

Azriel’s grip on you tightened, and when you turned toward the door, ready to leave this wreckage of a confrontation behind—

He pulled you to him.

Right there, in front of her.

And before you could even register the movement, his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t soft or careful.

It was fierce, unyielding, consuming...a declaration, a vow, a promise carved in stone.

A kiss that said you are mine, and I am yours, and nothing will ever change that again.

A kiss that said I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that I will never, never lose you again.

A kiss that said this is real.

This is forever.

Elain gasped, her breath hitching at the display in front of her, but Azriel didn’t give a damn.

Because he had spent too long pulled into a fate that was never his to claim.

Spent too long letting others dictate where his heart should belong.

He groaned as he tangled his hands into your hair, his tongue sliding across your lips, silently asking for entry, which you immediately gave him. He stroked his tongue across yours again and again, as if memorizing the taste of your lips that he had gone without for months. He drank from you like a man starved and when he finally broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his forehead pressed against yours, his hands firm on your waist as if he would never let go again—

He turned to Elain as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and spoke the words that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

"Nothing and no one will EVER pull me away from her again."

His voice was low, with lethal undertones challenging anyone that would dare try to take him away again, each syllable carved into the air like an unbreakable vow.

"I am forever hers, and I will destroy anyone who tries to separate us again."

And when he looked back at you—the love, the devotion, the certainty in his golden eyes nearly stole your breath away.

Because he meant it.

Every word.

Every touch.

Every piece of his soul, his heart, his love—

It was all yours.

And then, in a voice so low and filled with love, with certainty, with the quiet promise of a future that was now truly yours again, he murmured,

"Come, my love. Let’s go home."

Home.

The word hit something deep inside you, something raw and aching and fragile from all the months of pain, of loneliness, of grief.

But you let out a slow breath, your body relaxing into his touch, into the warmth and safety of the only male who had ever made you feel truly seen, truly cherished, truly loved.

Azriel didn’t glance back.

You didn’t look back.

You didn’t need to.

So you let him lead you out of the apartment, his arm firmly around your waist, his body a steady, unshakable force beside you.

And as the door shut behind you, sealing Elain in her own self-inflicted misery, you realized—

You were no longer drowning.

You were finally…free.

*****

The apartment door clicked shut behind you, sealing Elain away in her own self-inflicted ruin, leaving behind the wreckage of her destruction, her desperation, her betrayal.

Azriel’s arm remained firm around your waist, his body warm and solid against yours, his shadows curling softly around the two of you, not frantic like before, but calm, reverent.

He was watching you—really watching you, his golden eyes filled with something raw, something aching, something so unbearably tender that it nearly stole your breath away.

With a sharp inhale, you grabbed his face in your hands, pulling him down, your fingers threading into his dark hair, gripping him like he was the only thing tethering you to this world.

You kissed him.

Fiercely.

Desperately.

With every ounce of longing, of grief, of love that had been buried beneath months of pain.

Azriel let out a low, guttural groan, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he needed you just as badly, as if he was terrified of letting go.

His lips moved against yours, urgent, devouring, worshipping, and you felt it in your soul, in the bond that had been stretched thin but never severed.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping over yours, his body pressing into you, a silent plea, a silent vow, a silent apology.

And gods—you could have stayed like this forever.

Because this—this was yours.

This was real.

Not the twisted illusion Elain had tried to create, not the falsehoods laced in poison, but this—Azriel, his hands on you, his lips on yours, his love still burning for you despite everything.

When you finally broke apart, both of you panting, chests heaving, you rested your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering open to meet his molten gaze.

His expression was wrecked, his lips red and swollen from your kiss, his breathing still ragged, his hands still holding onto you as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“Gods, I have missed you, baby. I love you so much,” he whispered, his eyes gazing at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

And then, softly, you whispered,

"I love you, Az. Take me home."

A sound escaped him, something close to a shuddering breath, a quiet prayer, before he nodded, pressing one more lingering kiss to your lips, softer this time, filled with something quieter, something reverent.

Then—he pulled you into his arms and flew to the cabin.

*****

The cabin loomed in the distance, its silhouette cutting through the dense, moonlit forest. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the faintest hint of rain, but all you could focus on was the warmth of Azriel’s body, his grip firm yet trembling as he landed gently with you in his arms. Months apart had stretched between you like a chasm, but now, as he led you up the creaking steps to the front door, the tension between you was electric—unspoken, undeniable.

He paused, his broad shoulders tense beneath the black fabric of his shirt, and turned to face you. His eyes, those piercing, stormy hazel eyes that had haunted your dreams, searched yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

You could see it there—the regret, the longing, the desperate need to fix what had been broken.

His voice, low and rough, broke the silence. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, the words slipping out like a confession. “More than I can say.”

Your heart clenched at the rawness in his tone, and you reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble that dusted his jaw. His skin was warm, familiar, and it sent a shiver through you.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Every single second, Azriel.”

His hand covered yours, pressing it harder against his face as if he feared you’d pull away. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “For everything. For not seeing what was happening. For making you feel I didn’t love you anymore. For making you feel like you were nothing. For not fighting harder as she was trying to pull me away.”

His other hand came up to grip your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were inches apart. You could feel the heat radiating from him, could smell the faint, night-chilled mist and cedar scent that was so uniquely his.

It made your head swim.

“We are both victims of Elain’s lies and manipulation. But we’re here now and we’re still standing,” you said softly, your other hand resting on his chest. His heart thudded beneath your palm, steady and strong. “That’s all that matters.”

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours. For a moment, you just stood there, breathing each other in, the world around you fading away. Then, with a sudden, almost desperate urgency, his lips crashed into yours.

He didn’t give you time to think, to second-guess, to wonder if you were dreaming.

Because this—you and him, tangled in each other, wrapped up in love and fire and desperate need—

This was real.

And he was going to make sure you knew it.

It wasn’t gentle—it was hungry, demanding, as if he was trying to make up for all the time you’d lost in one kiss. His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you moaned into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair. The feel of him, the taste of him, was overwhelming, and you felt yourself melting into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

His tongue slid against yours, teasing, claiming, and you arched into him, your hands sliding down to grip the back of his shirt. He was everywhere—his scent, his warmth, his touch—and it was too much and not enough all at once. When he finally pulled back, both of you were panting, your foreheads resting together as you tried to catch your breath.

“I need you,” he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. “I need to feel you, to know you’re really here. That you’re still mine.”

The intensity in his eyes made your knees weak, and you nodded, your hands sliding down to grip his. “I have always been yours, Azriel” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

He growled as he swept you up into his arms, carrying you through the front door and into the cabin.

The second the cabin door shut behind you, his lips were on yours—hot, demanding, unyielding, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he could somehow fuse you into his very being. His mouth stayed on yours as his body pressed you backward, his hard cock grinding against you.

"Do you feel what you still do to me, baby? he growled against your lips.

You whimpered in response as his lips continued to claims yours.

The fire was already lit, casting a warm, golden glow over the room, and he set you down gently on the rug in front of the hearth. His eyes never left yours as he knelt before you, his hands sliding up your thighs to the hem of your dress.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. “Let me show you just how much I’ve missed you.”

You nodded, your breath hitching as he slowly peeled the fabric away, revealing your bare skin to the warm glow of the fire. His eyes darkened as they roamed over you, and you could see the hunger in his gaze, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly as they skimmed over your body.

“Gods, you still take my breath away,” he breathed, his voice reverent. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing over your ribs, and you shivered, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch was electric, sending ripples of pleasure through you with every caress.

When his lips found yours again, it was softer this time—slow, lingering kisses that made your heart ache with how much you’d missed him.

"I almost lost you." His voice broke, his hazel eyes gazing into yours as his hands slid down your sides, tracing every inch of you like he was relearning, reclaiming, reminding you that you had always been his. "Never again, my love. Never again."

You arched into him, your hands sliding over his shoulders to grip the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

“Azriel,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as his lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. His hands slid down to grip your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them, his breath hot against your inner thigh.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmured, his voice rough with need as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin there. “Being between your thighs, tasting what is mine, hearing you moan my name as you fall apart for me.”

You gasped as his lips brushed against your core, your hands tangling in his hair as he teased you with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue. His name spilled from your lips, a desperate, broken sound that only seemed to spur him on. He devoured you like a man starved, his hands gripping your hips to keep you still as he brought you to the edge and then pulled you back, again and again, until you were trembling beneath him.

“Please,” you begged, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I need you.”

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire as he looked up at you. “Not yet, baby” he said, his voice rough. “I’m not done with you.”

You moaned, your back arching as his hands slid up your body, his lips following the path of his fingers. He was everywhere—his touch, his kisses, his words—and you felt like you were drowning in him. Your hands slid down to grip his shoulders, pulling him up to meet you in a desperate, hungry kiss.

“I need you inside me,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with need. “Please, Azriel.”

He groaned, his hands sliding down to grip your hips as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough.

“I need you inside me,” you repeated, your voice breaking as you arched into him. “Make me yours again.”

With a low growl, he thrust into you, filling you completely in one swift, powerful stroke. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, his pace slow and deliberate, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. He was everywhere—his body, his scent, his touch—and you felt like you were falling apart in his arms.

"I could stay buried inside you for a week," he groaned against your throat, his hands gripping your hips, his breath uneven, his body moving against yours with slow, deliberate control. "So you never forget. So you always know who you belong to."

And gods, you did.

Because every touch, every whispered “I love you”, every press of his lips against your skin was a vow.

A vow that nothing, no one, would ever come between you again.

Hours passed, the world outside fading, lost in the rhythm of your bodies, lost in the quiet moans and breathless gasps that filled the cabin.

Until finally, you both collapsed into each other, sweat-drenched, breathless, bodies tangled together as if untangling would mean losing each other again.

Azriel’s arms wrapped tightly around you, his breath warm against your bare shoulder, his body still pressed against yours as his shadows lazily curled over your skin.

"I told Rhys we’d be here as long as we wanted," he murmured against your hair, his voice laced with exhaustion, with absolute contentment.

You blinked, still floating in the haze of pleasure, of love, of belonging.

"Your duties—"

"Can wait."

His grip tightened, his lips pressing to your temple.

"You are my number one priority now. Forever. And nothing will change that."

Tears pricked at your eyes, your heart swelling so fiercely you thought it might burst.

Because for so long, you had felt second.

Forgotten.

Neglected.

But now—now, he was here.

Completely.

Entirely.

"Rhys understands," he murmured, his fingers brushing soothing circles along your back. "He told me to take as much time as we need."

You exhaled, something deep inside you settling, healing, finally at peace.

"I love you," you whispered into the quiet, into the safety of his embrace.

He tilted your chin up, his golden eyes burning with something fierce, something unshakable.

"And I love you."

You smiled, the first true, unburdened smile you had felt in months.

"I’m glad to be here."

Azriel’s expression softened, his arms tightening around you as he pressed a lingering, soul-stealing kiss to your lips.

"You are home, my love."

And as the first rays of morning light spilled through the windows, illuminating your tangled bodies, your breath still mingling as you held each other—

You knew.

This was exactly where you were meant to be.

But before you could say anything else, before you could even fully process how at peace you felt in his arms,

Azriel rolled you beneath him again, a wicked gleam in his golden eyes.

"What are you doing?" you breathed, gasping slightly as he trailed his lips down your throat.

He smirked against your skin, his voice dark with promise.

"Loving you the way you deserve. Again."

And gods help you, you let him.

Because this was home.

He was your home.

And you would never leave again.

Chapter 14

[unoriginalcontent]

Been thinking a bit about this post; I do believe that to empathize with Trump voters, at least on an intellectual level, is important for purely pragmatic reasons. The idea there is that the right wing propaganda machine is a menace that no one knows how to deal with, and so if we can understand the concerns and anxieties of the conservative voter, we might have an opportunity to demonstrate how Trump is tangibly not addressing their problems and turn them against him. And hell, even if they did vote for him out of bigotry, maybe they'll still be willing to turn on him out of self-interest. However much it sucks, many of these people will not care if you simply point out that his policies harm other people. They've already set the human cost aside as acceptable losses, or else they outright support harming these people, which is why a different strategy is necessary for them. If we can get conservatives to turn on Trump, then even if it's not for the right and morally-correct reasons, that's still a win.

Of course that's all in reference to conservatives who were probably already predisposed towards whoever has an R next to their name on the ballot. When it comes to leftists who refuse to associate with democrats out of protest, I just don't know. I can understand that someone might want to vote out of self-interest and also believe that a Trump presidency is beneficial to them. Obviously they're likely to be wrong, but it's not hypocritical to have believed a lie and acted accordingly. Conversely, I think most leftists are people who will claim that government and voting shouldn't just be about self-interest, and that helping other people is a worthy end unto itself. And yeah, they should have known better.

If you're educated enough on the issues to have known all of Harris's shortcomings, how the hell do you not also know Trump's? If you know them both, how the hell can you conflate the two as equally bad?

We have this idea in the left that our systems are bad, and therefore we can never make progress until we destroy the systems entirely and build something new from the ashes. If you believe that, then please get your head out of the clouds because that's what Trump and Musk are trying to give us, and it turns out to be bad. We live in the system, we depend on the system, if we didn't then it wouldn't matter how many federal programs Trump is trying to abolish. Even if you specifically will be fine, you're writing everyone else off as an acceptable loss. It's not wrong to imagine and strive for a better world than this one, but unless you have viable alternatives ready and waiting, you won't get there by breaking things.

Maybe it's unfair to blame the current situation on people on the left who didn't vote for Harris. I don't even know how much blame matters at this point. And yet I think this is an important thing for all of us to keep in mind. Your moral clarity can be used against you. No matter how good and pure your ideals are, the real world has to come first. And right now that means acknowledging that a huge portion of our democracy chose Trump. And they don't care if you're hurt from his policies, or if I'm hurt, for a lot of these voters your suffering is probably just sugar on top. OP is absolutely right, they probably don't regret wishing leopards onto other people, but that doesn't mean it's not worth convincing them that we should stop the leopards before their faces are eaten. People are going to be poisoned by food which they voted to deregulate, and a part of me wants to think of that as justice. I feel angry. I feel spiteful. These people are taking human rights violations and touting them as victories, fuck them. But anger and spite won't fix anything, even from our side. And no matter how awful some of these people might be, together they're a hell of a voting block. I wish that I could force people to care about the suffering of others, but I can't. And so I hope that it's possible to at least get them to care about themselves.

And if you do think of yourself as progressive, and you still refused to vote for Harris, then I think OP is right, and you really do take a look at yourself. It is true that many of our problems are created and perpetuated by larger institutions beyond our control, but when it comes to democracy, it's not enough blame the system. You're a part of the system. If you don't want to participate, you need to have an alternative that is—crucially—viable, actionable, and realistic in the immediate short term. If you don't have that, which I guarantee you don't, then high-stakes elections are not the time for moral grandstanding.

Sorry for rambling here on your post, I'm probably a bit scattered. I've been having a lot of discussions with people about this sort of thing lately. Whatever strategy the left has for winning hearts and minds, it clearly hasn't worked if someone like that can still win the popular vote. I don't know how to fix that. But I think we all need to be a lot more comfortable ceding the moral high ground if it means making progress in the trenches.

Trump voters owe me financial compensation.

[monstersholygrail]

dray the crisis is hitting again can I get yandere mad scientist and their also mad scientist reader who loves experimenting with them? Thank u!!

Omgeee my first yandere ask, thank you sm!! Hope you like it, it kinda went all over the place (much like the couple lol)

Ever since Yandere!Mad Scientist was a boy the twisted darkness of scientific exploration spoke to the depths of his soul. He carried it with him throughout his childhood and the so-called deranged experiments he would conduct on the neighborhood animals.

When you, the new neighbor’s child, cried over the loss of your cat, Yandere!Mad Scientist felt something shift inside of him for the first time in his few years on this earth. He wondered briefly if this is what his parents meant when referring to emotion. He wanted… more of this strange sensation. He also wanted to use his gifts for someone else for a change. Another first your presence has given him.

He knew you would appreciate the gift that resulted from his experiment, and appreciate him, even when no one else ever has. Something in him told him you would understand. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny, no, he believed in cold hard facts and science. But perhaps in this one exception… it was your soul calling out for him. It had to be. Who was he not to answer?

The moment you throw open the gift box in your family’s living room to reveal your cat’s moving head on a mechanical body and your joyous squeals mingle with your parents horrified screams, he knew. The way you marveled at his accomplishment as you hugged your cat close before your parents tore it away from you in terror.

He knew you were meant to be his. And someday when he wasn’t so little and you weren’t under the control of your parents, you would be. By the possessive look you flash him as your parents usher him out and threaten to call the cops, he knows you have the same idea.

As you both continued to age, Yandere!Mad Scientist’s experiments only got more complex and dangerous. Though now you were right there by his side, driving his theories down even darker avenues. Your creative mind just as twisted as his, if not more so. Your genius unparalleled.

Of course, a series of strategic maneuvers had to be set in place every time you both snuck away to meet up given your parents had permanently banned you from seeing ‘the freak kid next door.’ They still hadn’t gotten over the little cat incident. The fact that you kept the cat alive to this day probably not helping them move on either.

But nothing could keep you away from each other. He was yours and you were most definitely his. With your work together you two would take control of the world and destroy anyone who tried to get in the others path. They were all of inferior minds to you two, they had no right to deny you what rightfully belonged to you and him.

No one would be able to touch you or keep you from him again. It was only a matter of time.

When you and Yandere!Mad Scientist got to college it was the real first taste of freedom either of you had ever had. He thought that this was it. You two would never be separated from now on. He’d be in an off campus apartment with you after school and during school you two would have all the same classes.

But then you have to go and betray him, doing the worst thing imaginable. Choosing a different major than him. While he had gone the expected path— the correct one— of a Science Major. You had chosen… Psychology. It was possibly the first time in his entire life that Yandere!Mad Scientist had been furious at you. You wouldn’t believe how tempted he was to handcuff you to him so you’d be forced to always remain by his side

He was actually searching online for a good sturdy pair the night you came to him asking for help with a project, the first you two had spoken in days following the fight you had about it. And that’s when he learns of your true motivations, the reason behind your desire to be a… Psych major of all things.

You see, you had started working on a memory control device that would surely help your plans for world domination. Of course, he immediately agreed to working on this with you. You two had never worked separately since you met and he wasn’t about to start now. Only he was allowed to know the inner workings of your mind, to understand the way your genius wove its clever webs. He was the only one who ever understood you and that would remain true for as long as he had a say about it.

Together, the work on your project progressed rapidly. The two of you working on it day and night. It was a little tricky, given you two only shared a few classes together where you’d pass flirtatious notes filled with complex algorithms. But he made do.

Though as you learned more from your classes and began applying them to the device, something started feeling… off about it all. More algorithms were attempted that he doesn’t remember running, beakers he doesn’t recall turning on were left running till they overflowed, and days seemed to pass him by where it felt like he had done absolutely nothing despite your excited rambling on the progression of the project.

One night, as you two are cleaning up from that night’s experiments, he comes across one of his many notebooks. Buried deep under a dozen others just like it. But this one has a book mark with an arrow pointing down saying ‘Read me.’ On the marked page lays a whole series of numbers and formulas he’s never even seen before in his one handwriting. With a sticky note at the top reading ‘Forget Something?’

He reads through what appears to be his work over and over again. No, this can’t be real. He never did any of this, it’s impossible. But as he watches the formulas grow more successful with each equation, realization dawns on him. It is possible. He just lost his memory of it. He looks up, eyes instantly catching onto your form across the room just as you look back up at him.

That playful smirk and mischievous glimmer in your eye that he loves so much. It’s as clear as day. As is what you’ve been doing to him. His lips curl into a mirroring expression and you just laugh, returning your gaze to your work.

Ah, so that’s how you want to play it, huh? That’s more than fine by him. He can play it right back to ya. To show you that his brain is all yours for fucking around with, so long as you’re his to do the same.

The next time you come to, the pair of you are sitting in an unfamiliar lecture hall. The teacher droning on about a topic you can’t really hear. Still half-asleep with your head resting on your arms.

“Wakey wakey, darling,” he murmurs in your ear, hand petting your head affectionately. You look too cute all groggy and disoriented as you slowly wake up from the device’s effects. He understands why you used it so much on him. Seeing you like this was absolutely irresistible.

You groan, eyes scrunching up tight. Your head feeling like it weighs about a metric ton and your eyes begging to remain closed forever. You open them anyway, lashes fluttering as you try and focus in on your surroundings. The lecture hall is completely unfamiliar to you. And given the stone walls, you’re in a completely different department.

“W-where am I?” You ask, voice slightly slurred from misuse.

He is having too much fun watching you. It’s wild seeing the device be used and the impacts it has on its users. He briefly wonders if you’ll forget all about this feeling just as he had. He cups your chin with a surprising tenderness, slowly bringing your attention back on him.

“Don’t you remember, dear? You decided to transfer into the Science department. Now, we’ll be together in all our classes. Just like you wanted,” he rumbles, his voice like a hypnotic lullaby as his thumb soothingly caresses your jaw.

It takes a moment for you to break through the comforting haze of his touch so his words can register. Your brows furrow deeply, having no memory of leaving your previous major. The words begin to repeat in your head, echoing and pounding against your skull.

Remember.

He can the moment clarity begins to dawn on you. Your eyes losing that dazed effect to them. He practically watches as you put the pieces together, realizing what must’ve happened just like he did. Though he has to give you props for how fast you realized. Your genius only made him fall harder for you, want even more of you.

But when you burst out into a fit of quiet giggles, your eyes lighting up with pride, he can feel the strings you have wrapped around his heart grow impossibly tighter. It was that pride in your work, pride in the success of the device, and even pride in him for managing to get one on you.

Your laughter is infectious and soon he’s laughing right along with you in the lecture hall, leaning in close and marveling at what you two can do when you put your minds to it.

He looks into your eyes, his hand sliding to cup your cheek and holding you like you’re the most the precious thing in the world to him. And just like back when you were kids, with one look he knows what you’re thinking.

That there is nothing better than experimenting with each other. In every way possible.

[cosmerelists]

I Assign Cosmere Characters A Random Animal As Their Pet

I'm using the random generator from this post. I've already created a list of Cosmere characters (it's just the main characters I always do, ha ha), and then I'll randomly assign them a pet and see how they fair! For the record, these results are not altered at all!

[For the purposes of this post, we're gonna pretend that any animal that comes up would make a good and ethical pet, okay? Please don't actually try to adopt a bear.]

1. Kaladin: A dromedary (a type of camel)

Kaladin: [stares at the camel] Camel: [stares at Kaladin] Kaladin: T-This is just a bigger, meaner horse! Kaladin: I can tell just from one glance into its eyes that that hump is full of SPITE Camel: [spits at Kaladin] Kaladin: I KNEW IT

2. Vin: A mustang (a type of horse)

Vin: Yes, yes, you think you're soooo pretty and fast, don't you? Vin: I'm faster, you know. Probably. With enough metal. Vin: So just don't you getting to big for your horse britches! Elend: Wow! What a beautiful horse! Vin: Don't you start!

3. Shallan: A monkey

Shallan: What a cute little monkey you are! Shallan: With the little outfit Adolin sewed for you, and the paintbrush I gave you! Shallan: A regular little monkey artist! Pattern: [buzzing] I keep telling you, Shallan, this creature wants to be like that one person I saw when you were looking for the herald! It wants to be paint with its p- Shallan (loudly): We'll just use regular paint, thank you!

4. Tress: A mandrill (largest monkey in the world)

Tress: Wow, you have such a pretty face, ma'am! Tress: And a large girl like you won't need to fear any mean ol' cat, will you! Charlie: I feel strangely inadequate. Tress: I-I didn't mean it that way!

5. Dalinar: A bear

Dalinar: You and I are a lot alike, bear. Dalinar: We are both large and intimidating, and we can hurt a lot of people if we get violent. Dalinar: ... Dalinar: Also, apparently Navani really likes to cuddle with both of us. Navani: He's soooo soft!

6. Painter: A bighorn (a type of sheep)

Painter: I like him. Painter: He's got a noble bearing. You can tell with those big horns and steely gaze, he's probably king of his herd or something. Painter: So please stop stacking chopsticks on his head. Yumi: Come on, he LOVES his chopstick-tower-hat! Bighorn: [making happy sheep noises] Painter: I-I just think his gravitas is taking a hit.

7. Leshwi: A burro (a type of donkey)

Lewshi: I'll admit, I was really hoping for an animal that could fly. Venli: Surely anything can fly if you lash it to the sky. Leshwi: I tried that. Leshwi: Apparently donkeys don't like to fly.

8. Adolin: A basilisk (a type of lizard)

Shallan: So...why the little cape on your lizard friend? Adolin: He runs across water! It's cool, but I thought it would look even cooler if he was wearing a cape while he did it! Shallan: Where do you find enough water for that? Adolin: Well...he's mostly been running across a bathtub. Shallan: Ah, so he REALLY needs the coolness factor of a cape... Adolin: Yeah, I think it'll really help his self-esteem.

9. Steris: A sheep

Wax: Hey Steris. Steris: Hello, Wax. Wax: I can't help but notice that where yesterday was one sheep, today there are fifteen sheep. Steris: I read that they feel better in herds! Wax: You always go all in--I love that about you. Wax: ... Steris: ... Wax: So we're sheep farmers now? Steris: A little bit, yeah.

10. Navani: A ferret

Sibling: NAVANI YOUR FERRET IS RUNNING THROUGH MY TUNNELS AGAIN Navani: It loves you! Sibling: IT'S LIKE THAT LIFT CHILD ALL OVER AGAIN

11. Siri: A budgerigar (bird)

Siri: This little guy is perfect for me! Siri: Colorful, small, sweet! Siri: I'm teaching it to talk! Budgie: Let's destroy evil! Siri: ... Siri: Uncle Vasher was here again, wasn't he?

12. Kelsier: A duckbill platypus (yes, really)

Kelsier: Everyone, meet the newest member of our team! Dockson: Uh...what is that? Vin: It looks like a bunch of different animals stuck together. Breeze: Rather unsightly, really. Ham: You, uh, doing okay, Kel? Kelsier: You're all such doubters. But watch what happens when I do THIS! [Puts a fedora on the platypus] Vin: ...Why do I suddenly feel like he's going to make a great spy? Kelsier: Trust me, this is gonna be great!

[burning2know]

Since people seem to be interested in inferring the real political opinions of the devs (or whoever's vision was realized in these games), here are some shower thoughts.

disclaimer: just some personal observation, i'm pretty ignorant about history and politics.

So imo, Anders follows very much the cultural narrative of a post 9/11 world (at least in my bubble). Violence is bad (especially terrorism), and we're meant to not fall prey to its tantalizing justifications because that's a slippery slope to war, genocide, the whole nine yards and then some. (We had to allow some time to mske it okay to even talk about capital T terror and sympathizing with perps).

DAI sets Solas up to redeem the writers for Anders, potentially. And given recent events in the past, idk, few months, year, I've seen that north american society no longer thinks about violence the way I thought it did (yes social media has a big role to play in that). Considering this background, da4 seems weirdly regressive and also on trend, all things considered. Opinions on the quality of the game notwithstanding.

Now I feel like the expressed-in-public sentiment is that violence is okay depending on which side you agree with because peaceful protests don't do fuck all, whereas some 10 odd years ago, it was that we like the change but not the violence to bring them about... Because change without violence is possible. But we've proven to ourselves time and again that the chsnge that happens without violence is overwhelmingly one-sidedly benefitting the powerful. There are through-lines over time, for sure, but things were indeed not always like this. The narrative of who is allowed to be sympathetic used to be controlled by keeping us ignorant, whereas now, it's being controlled by moral imperatives. Because it's gotten a lot easier to know.

Judging by what made it into the artbook, they were never going go where I hoped. But I think the da4 libs aren't quite the same flavour as the DA2/DAI libs. And that's... Something (neutral). Whether that reflects a single perspn on the team's views or the company's, I can't say. But it tracks with what I think is the zeitgeist.

However. I think it'd be remiss to not account for the change in leadership and vision of the world of thedas between dai and da4. To argue that the writers had always been like this is to ignore a major part of the problem. I felt that something had fundamentally shifted between dai and da4. The op's critique not withstanding (and I think you're right). The characterizations in dai were a hell of a lot more progressive than in da4, if only by virtue of da4 being extremely regressive through its bare-faced simplicity. In a nut shell, I just don't believe that the people who created Mythal and Flemeth and Morrigan would write the characters in da4. And it aggrieves me to have them lumped together with the likes of miserable little epler... They are not the same. This was not always the world view of DA.

Lastly, and this point is inane af, but I offer a more mechanistic explanation of the grace offered to blackwall. blackwall killed a single noble family, you can count that on one, mayhe two hands. Servants do not count as real people (I come back to this later, bear with me). anders and solas sought to destroy institutions forming the very fabric of society. The latter is much more visibly destructive, obviously, since such visible destruction is the ultimate goal. Whereas the violence perpetrated by the accepted authorities and instutions are so mundane as to be invisible or inevitable or "do not count" just as the servants thom rainier killed did not count. It's seemingly worse on an utilitarian scale. this often is used as justification against non-sanctioned violence and progressive ideas in general.

genuinely curious how the writers and larger dragon age audience would treat thom rainier if instead of being appropriately* repentant and putting himself in prison he blew up a major orlesian government building to instigate a chevalier rebellion or tried to have someone do some necromantic blood magic ritual involving uncertain danger and possible sacrifices to bring the innocent children he ordered killed back to life

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 9th of February, 2025

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 9th of February 2025

Question: How does Harry feel about Prince Louis?

This is a one card reading

Card Drawn: Justice in Reverse

Justice in Reverse is a card of retribution, dishonesty, avoiding accountability, injustice, unfairness.

Harry thinks that it is unfair that Louis was born. He is taking Louis's birth as an injustice perpetuated on him - a personal affront. In his eyes, Louis's birth was unjust, unfair, and should never have happened.

There is a sense of a personal vendetta against Prince Louis that is missing from the other two readings I have done on Prince George and Princess Charlotte. To put it bluntly, Harry hates Prince Louis's guts for no reason other than Prince Louis exists.

It is his birth that Harry has a major problem with, and the hatred he felt at Prince Louis being born has continued without abating as Prince Louis has grown up, and it has deepened with every bit of attention that Prince Louis gets from the press and from other members of the family. There is a deep and personal hatred here that is festering and growing inside Harry.

If Harry could destroy Prince Louis is some way, wipe him out of existence (short of murder), he would. If he could wind back time and stop Prince Louis being born, he would. In Harry's ideal world, the way he thinks the world should be, Prince Louis does not exist.

Underlying Energy: Strength in Reverse

Strength is the card for Leo, and Leo is Meghan's sun sign. It is also the card that some people use for Meghan and Harry together, as the traditional Rider Waite card shows a maiden (a virgin, Virgo=Harry) and a lion (Leo=Meghan) together.

Strength in reverse is the person represented by the card (Harry or Harry and Meghan) being overshadowed in some way, eclipsed, acting out of their baser natures.

This is the reason that Harry hates Prince Louis - he feels that his wedding to Meghan was overshadowed by the birth of Prince Louis.

The energy from this card is of someone - Harry -who thinks that Prince Louis stole his limelight. In Harry's eyes, here he was getting married to a hot American actress, and all the press could focus on was the birth of his elder brother's third child. Harry feels that this is not fair and it is a huge injustice, and he has hated Prince Louis ever since because of when he was born - around three and a half weeks before Harry's wedding. This includes what he wrote in Spare about Prince William wanting to go home to be with his wife and his new baby instead of greeting people outside the palace the night before the wedding (although Prince William did go out and greet people with Prince Harry that night, so this could be another thing that Harry has twisted around in his mind).

Meghan dislikes Prince Louis as well, for the same reason, as she is here with Harry in the Strength card. Both of them have a vendetta against Prince Louis for being born and having attention from the press when all the attention should have been on them and their wedding.

[fayelero]

ⓘ 03. MY STRANGE ADDICTION !

⤷ FIC ﹫ timeskip!kenma x fem!reader ﹫ angst/fluff ﹫ toxic au!

⚠︎ I really want to warn this one cuz it is really a heavy subject!!! I do not want hate so only read if you’re okay with the disclaimers: really toxic, obsession, corruption of reader, suggestive, fluff, insults, smoke, drugs, identity loss .ᐟ.ᐟ

Kenma wakes up to the sound of soft rain tapping against the massive windows of your penthouse. The sky outside is gray, overcast, the city below blurred by the misty drizzle. It feels like a dream—like he’s caught in that space between sleep and waking, where reality and illusion blend together.

And then he sees you.

You’re standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, wrapped in nothing but the silk robe he bought you last week. It hangs off your shoulders carelessly, draping over your body like it was made for you. Your hair is slightly messy, the kind of perfect disarray that makes you look like you just stepped out of a painting. A cigarette dangles between your fingers, the faint glow illuminating your nails, perfectly manicured, expensive.

You don’t even try, and still, you’re the most effortlessly beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Kenma doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He just watches.

You do this sometimes—wake up before him, stand by the window, lost in your own thoughts. Maybe you like watching the city move beneath you, knowing none of it touches you. Maybe you just like knowing you have all of this, that money is nothing but numbers to you, that luxury is just a natural state of being.

Or maybe—maybe you just like making him feel like he’s in a fucking fever dream.

Your lips part slightly as you exhale, slow, smoke curling past your lips, disappearing into the air. Then, as if sensing his gaze, you glance over your shoulder, half-lidded eyes locking onto his.

“You’re staring,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep.

Kenma exhales through his nose, dragging a hand through his already-messy blonde hair. “You look fake,” he mutters, voice hoarse.

Your lips curl at the edges, amused. “Good morning to you too, baby.”

You turn fully now, walking towards the bed with that slow, unbothered grace that makes his stomach twist. Like you know exactly the effect you have on him. Like you enjoy it. You flick the cigarette into a glass ashtray before crawling onto the bed, hands splaying over the silk sheets as you hover above him.

Kenma just looks at you.

God, he’s fucking obsessed with you.

It’s not normal. It never has been. From the moment you met, it was like something chemical snapped inside both of you—like magnets being forced together, something too strong, too immediate, too much.

Five years, and it hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s worse.

“You didn’t sleep,” you whisper, fingers brushing against his jaw.

Kenma doesn’t deny it. He never sleeps well without you, not unless he’s exhausted to the point of collapse. Even then, his body searches for yours in the sheets, muscle memory guiding him to where you should be.

You hum, leaning down until your lips barely ghost over his. “Bad habit,” you murmur against his skin.

“You’re my bad habit,” Kenma mutters back, and he hates how much he means it.

You are. You’re the worst kind of addiction, the kind that doesn’t destroy you outright but sinks into your bones, corrupting you slowly, beautifully, until you can’t tell where you end and where it begins.

Neither of you are cruel, not to each other. You don’t fight. Don’t scream. There’s no chaos, no violence—just an obsession that runs too deep, a love so consuming it wraps around your ribs like vines, tightening, squeezing.

Kenma knows it’s not healthy.

You never go anywhere without him. He never goes anywhere without you. Even when you’re apart, you’re not—you text, call, send photos, constant proof that the other still exists. The longest you’ve ever been away from each other was three days, and by the end of it, Kenma felt like his skin was too tight, like the world was too loud, like nothing made sense anymore.

You came back, and he remembers the way you just collapsed into his lap, burying yourself in his hoodie, inhaling him like you needed him to breathe again.

He remembers whispering never again into your hair, and he remembers the way you nodded, nails digging into his back like a silent promise.

Never again.

You’re pressing lazy kisses to his jaw now, soft and slow, like you have all the time in the world. You do. Time is irrelevant when you have everything.

“You love me,” you murmur, not a question, just a fact.

Kenma exhales, fingers tightening around your waist. “Too much.”

“Good.” Your lips ghost over his. “Me too.”

That’s the problem. You love each other, but it’s too much, too intense, an all-consuming fire that doesn’t burn out, just keeps raging. You don’t fight because you can’t—hurting each other isn’t an option. The thought of it makes Kenma feel physically sick.

But it’s not normal.

It’s not normal to panic when he wakes up and you aren’t there. It’s not normal to have to touch you constantly, just to make sure you’re real. It’s not normal to hate the idea of other people looking at you, talking to you, existing in the same space as you.

It’s not normal to be so deep in someone that you forget who you were before them.

Kenma doesn’t care.

Because even if it’s wrong, even if it’s unhealthy, even if it’s an addiction—

He’s never fucking quitting you.

It started slow.

Kenma likes to think he didn’t do it on purpose, that he didn’t set out to ruin you. But deep down, in the part of himself he doesn’t like to examine too closely, he knows that’s a lie.

Because the truth is—he wanted to ruin you from the second he met you. Don’t get him wrong, he never wanted to arm you or make you feel bad.

You were too fucking perfect.

When he first saw you, you were everything he wasn’t. Innocent in a way that wasn’t naïve, but untouched. Untainted. You weren’t fragile, weren’t weak, but you carried yourself with an effortless grace, a beauty so natural it made his stomach twist. You were kind without trying, soft in a way that wasn’t fake. You weren’t like the world he knew—cold, cynical, hollow.

You were warm.

And Kenma—Kenma, who had spent years keeping himself at a distance, who had built walls so high no one had ever been able to reach him—wanted to ruin you.

He wanted to pull you into his world. Wanted to see that warmth twist into something darker, something for him. He wanted you to be his.

And he got exactly what he wanted.

At first, it was little things.

The first time he handed you a cigarette, you wrinkled your nose at it, hesitant. “I don’t smoke,” you had said, voice soft but firm.

Kenma didn’t argue. Just shrugged, took a slow drag, let the smoke curl lazily from his lips.

But then you were kissing him, and his fingers were slipping into your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue slid against yours, smoky and slow.

You tasted it.

Didn’t pull away.

And he knew then—it’s only a matter of time.

The first time you actually smoked, you coughed, eyes watering, nose scrunching in a way that made something deep inside him ache. But then you tried again. And again. Until it became natural, until the scent of tobacco clung to your skin like perfume, until he could press his lips to yours and taste it on you like a promise.

Then came the drugs.

Not an addiction—never an addiction. You weren’t stupid.

But you liked the feeling. The way it blurred the edges of the world, made everything a little softer, a little less real. You liked the way it made your skin hum, the way it made you feel invincible.

You liked the way Kenma would watch you when you were high—like you were something unreal, something ethereal. Like he couldn’t believe you were his.

You liked being his.

You had always been confident. You had always known you were beautiful. But Kenma—Kenma made you something else.

Something dangerous.

Because there was a difference between being beautiful and being desired. And no one had ever desired you the way he did.

The first time he touched you, really touched you, it was slow. Worshipful. Like he wasn’t sure you were real. Like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. But as the years passed, it became something else—something desperate, something obsessive, something hungry.

You were addictive.

Kenma was never the type to lose control. He was calculated, always two steps ahead. But with you—with you, he could never get enough.

You learned how to play with him, how to push his buttons. How to wear something too short, just to see his jaw tighten, his grip on his phone turn white-knuckled. How to let your touch linger just a little longer, just to watch the way his pupils would dilate.

You liked it.

Liked watching him fight to keep his composure. Liked knowing that you were the only one who could make him unravel.

It was a game.

A dangerous one.

Because if Kenma was possessive before, now he was something else entirely. You never questioned it. Never pushed against it. Because the truth was—you liked belonging to him.

Even when it was too much.

Even when the world started to feel smaller, reduced to just him.

Even when you realized you didn’t have any friends anymore. Didn’t go anywhere without him. Didn’t want to.

Because why would you?

When Kenma was your world.

When you were his.

Five years.

Five years, and now, when you look in the mirror, you barely recognize the girl you used to be.

The girl who didn’t smoke.

The girl who didn’t do drugs.

The girl who didn’t need him to breathe.

But that girl is gone. And what’s left is something else—something sharper, something darker, something that only exists in relation to him.

You should be afraid.

But you’re not.

Because if this is a mistake, if this is wrong, then you don’t want to be right.

Because this—this obsession, this madness, this love—

Is all you’ve ever wanted.

The morning is slow, stretching like golden syrup over the silk sheets. Kenma watches you move through the bedroom, and he can’t help but think about how different you are now.

How different you’ve become.

The girl he met five years ago would’ve wrapped herself in a blanket after crawling out of bed, would’ve worn an oversized hoodie, would’ve sat beside him with bare feet tucked beneath her, warmth radiating from her skin like the last light of a setting sun.

This version of you—his version of you—doesn’t do that.

You don’t bother with modesty anymore. The silk robe you wear barely clings to your body, loose enough to slip off your shoulder, short enough to reveal the curve of your thighs. It’s barely even tied. You don’t care.

And he fucking loves it.

Because you weren’t always like this.

You used to wear pretty dresses, elegant but never loud. Never anything too short, too tight, too much. You used to cross your legs carefully, sit with your hands in your lap, tuck your hair behind your ear when you were nervous.

Now? Now you stretch your arms above your head, making the robe slip further down your body, rolling your shoulders like you know he’s watching. You don’t even bother tying it properly. You don’t need to. You live in a place where money shields you from judgment, where you only leave when you want to, where Kenma is the only person whose opinion has ever mattered.

It’s not just the way you dress.

It’s the way you carry yourself now—completely unbothered, effortlessly sexy, indulgent in the way only people with everything can be.

You pad across the room, barefoot on the marble floor, fingers trailing over the cool surface of the vanity as you pass by. Your reflection stares back at you, and for a brief second, you don’t recognize yourself.

Not because you look bad. No—you look beautiful. Too beautiful.

Your lips are a little fuller, a little darker, the faint stain of yesterday’s lipstick still there. Your eyes are sharper, half-lidded, lazy, with a sleepy kind of sensuality. There’s no innocence left.

It should scare you.

But it doesn’t.

You glance at Kenma through the mirror, and he’s already watching you, amber eyes tracing the curve of your spine, the bare skin peeking through the loose silk of your robe.

You smirk. “You like staring at me, huh?”

Kenma doesn’t even blink. “You make it easy.”

Your smirk widens. You grab your cigarette from the ashtray and light it again, the scent of burning tobacco filling the air. You never used to smoke, but now it’s second nature. You love the way it makes you feel—like time slows down, like the world bends around you.

Like him.

Because that’s what Kenma does. He warps reality around himself, makes it impossible for you to think of anything else.

You take a slow drag, exhaling through parted lips. “You used to hate smokers.”

“I used to hate a lot of things.” Kenma’s voice is lazy, low, like he doesn’t even have the energy to pretend otherwise. “You make everything look good.”

You laugh, slow and syrupy. “Even addiction?”

“Especially addiction.” His gaze drags over you again. “It suits you.”

You should roll your eyes. You should say something sarcastic, should push against the way he owns you with just a look.

But you don’t.

Because he’s right.

It does suit you.

Everything he’s made you into—all the little corruptions, all the ways he’s reshaped you into something that belongs only to him—it fits.

You weren’t always like this.

You used to have boundaries.

Used to go out with friends, used to laugh without a cigarette between your fingers, used to kiss Kenma with soft lips instead of ones stained with nicotine and remnants of last night’s lipstick.

You used to be someone.

But that girl is gone for the best.

And the version of you that’s left—this spoiled, indulgent, obsessive thing—is so much more beautiful.

Kenma shifts on the bed, stretching, the sheets pooling around his waist. You take another drag, watching the way his muscles flex beneath smooth skin, the way his hair falls into his face, strands of blonde and brown mixing together in messy waves.

You were never meant for something normal.

Kenma knew that before you did.

So you take another slow inhale, lean against the vanity, and exhale with a smile. “So what now?”

Kenma watches the smoke curl between you, head tilting slightly. Then he smirks, slow and lazy, before reaching a hand out toward you.

“Come back to bed.”

[sillychatonnoir]

I hate when people is like "Oh, Luka, when he was akumatized, he was always nice to Marinette. He even declared his love for her! And when Adrien was akumatized, what did he do? He killed her! So Luka is much better, I don't know why you like Adrien 😒"

Well, alright, first of all, as a recollection of being a lovesquare, lukanette, lukadrien AND MOSTLY a lukadrinette shipper... How dare you?

Second: tell me you didn't understand the Chat Blanc episode without telling me you didn't understand the episode???? Adrien didn't kill anyone on purpose, if anything he was trying to destroy himself to not having to choose between THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE and HIS FATHER and things got out of hand because he didn't understand the reach of his akumatized powers, he was in great distress finding out about hard truths about his mom and his dad. Then when past Ladybug went, yes, he attacked but he was desperate, he killed the whole world, he had been alone for MONTHS, every day losing a little bit more of his sanity when your regular akuma is already emotionally unstable, blaming Adrien and thinking he is a bad boyfriend to Marinette just because he couldn’t keep it together after all that shit show makes no sense. And even then, you could argue he wasn't actually trying to fight Marinette that hard. He had plenty of chances to straight up kill her, and he didn't. Genuinely, I want to see y'all going through ALL OF THAT and not losing your minds.

I think Luka is a perfect guy, honestly, and Marinette and him work sooooo well together. They're comfortable with each other, Luka is super understanding, Marinette clearly loved Luka, maybe still loves him a little (maybe this is me being delusional, anyways) BUT!!!! when he was Silencer, Marinette wasn't his objective. Part of it was that he was angry on her behalf because of her stolen designs. Silencer had no reason to attack Marinette because part of his purpose was protecting her, so I don't think you can seriously compare Chat Blanc with Silencer, ever.

You can ship whatever you want, but it makes me sooo angry when people need to bring up arguments that don't make any sense just to say that their ship is better. Maybe let's not shit on other people's ships???? "Luka is better" this "Adrien is better" that, well, maybe Adrien and Luka kiss and then they go to kiss Marinette, have you ever thought about that?

[saanphoenix]

I offer an idea. A potential. As someone who has played every single game multiple times.

The Blight.

In Veilguard, the writers have taken into consideration the blight. Which is housed primarily in the Black City, which is in the Fade, but also sort of Not in the Fade.

If one were to rip the Veil off, like a Band-Aid, which WOULD cause mass destruction and casualties, as Solas says this in both Trespasser AND Veilguard, it now becomes much easier for the Blight to leech out.

That is a much bigger problem than Oops! All Demons.

The Caretaker will tell you, when asked, that the Crossroads shares a connection To Everything. The Fade runs through it. Dreams and magic. And if the Crossroads were Blighted as the gods are trying to do, it would infect Everything.

Doing the Regrets quests allows you to ask, "Is it possible to heal the Blight?" And that line of questioning gets Emmrich and Davrin discussing the possibility of returning the dreams of the Titans, but that they must be healed first, because if you didn't then you would destroy the world with a bunch of angry, Blighted Titans.

If you do the Atonement Ending, Solas tells you he can't kill the Blight, but he can work to calm it. He sees a way forward.

All evidence points that the Veil did not come down in this game because the Blight needs to be cured first. And then it can come down. Preferably with a better ritual. And then we could even, possibly, put the Titans back together again.

....

But, now that damn near the entire writing team has been let go, who the hell knows.

When people new to DA say things like "I didn't play any of the previous games before I played Veilguard" that's fine, but to then turn around and say "well, because Veilguard says [lore thing] that means everything in the previous games is false" makes you look willfully ignorant at best and [redacted] at worst. Veilguard did not do a good job with three games of established lore. New players apparently came out of datv not knowing what a Circle is, for crying out loud???

People who wanted to see the Veil removed have a basis for the belief that it might usher in a new age for Thedas that could ultimately make things better for elves, mages, and spirits. Or at least change the world in an interesting, exciting way. That basis was given to us by the first three games. For example:

Flemeth

"We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment . . . and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly." (DA2)

PC: "Why did Mythal come to you?"

Flemeth: "For a reckoning that will shake the very heavens."

Morrigan: "And you follow her whims? Do you even know what she truly is?"

Flemeth: "You seek to preserve the powers that were, but to what end? It is because I taught you, girl, because things happened that were never meant to happen. She was betrayed as I was betrayed--as the world was betrayed! Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!" (DAI)

Sandal's Prophecy

"One day the magic will come back, all of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see." (DA2)

Cole

"The Veil isn’t real. It’s false, fake, fabricated to forbid. Isn’t it wonderful?"

"Cole: Is there a way to save more spirits, Solas?

Solas: Not until the Veil is healed. The rifts draw spirits through, and the shock makes demons of them.

Cole: Pushing through makes you be yourself. You can hold onto the you.

Cole: Being pulled through means you don't have enough you. You become what batters you, bruises your being.

Solas: Yes, exactly. Deliberately crossing the Veil requires that a spirit form will, personality.

Solas: That concept of self gives a spirit the chance to maintain its nature.

Solas: Wrenched into this world unwillingly by the rifts, spirits suffer the same fate as my friend.

Cole: Then we will help them." (DAI)

Morrigan

"Change is coming to the world. Many fear chance and will fight it with every fiber of their being. But sometimes change is what they need most. Sometimes change is what sets them free." (DAO: Witch Hunt)

"Mankind blunders through this world, crushing what it does not understand: elves, dragons, magic . . . the list is endless. We must stem the tide, or be left with nothing more than the mundane. This I know to be true." (DAI)

I haven't even touched on what Solas says, due to his bias/the way some people refuse to consider his insight at all, even though he knows the most about the Veil of any character in the series ever. For obvious reasons.

Due to the above evidence, I completely agree that the Veil coming down would probably be catastrophic to some degree. I disagree that it would have "destroyed the world" or "drowned [it] in demons" as Veilguard loves to repeat over and over, mostly from characters like Varric who don't know jack about the Veil, magic, or spirits. And I disagree that people who wanted to see what would happen if the Veil came down are wrong or misguided--they obviously just paid better attention to what the overarching narrative than some. It isn't their fault that this more interesting and dynamic narrative was retconned to shreds and buried in the backyard.

[seventeenlovesthree]

Madoka Magica Ship Analysis - HomuMado

Based on these two polls [X] [X], I will write an analysis that'll also include how I feel about the ship (similarly to my Digimon shipping game analysis posts).

Disclaimer: I won't claim this to be a conclusive/definitive analysis of all of the ship's aspects. I have watched the original 12-episode-series and movies (including Rebellion), the Magia Record anime and I've read several manga series (the Original, The Different Story, Wraith Arc, Rebellion Story, Oriko Magica, Another Story, Mitakihara Anti-Materials). But I'm aware that I haven't seen/read all of what's out there and am also not thoroughly familiar with the games. Plus, oftentimes, ship dynamics vary depending on which series/timeline you are looking at. I'm fairly certain that thousands of words must have been written about this ship already, better and more elaborate than I probably ever could - so this is going to be my personal take on it.

Whether canon provides input on them or not.

As the main faces, characters (and ship) of the entire franchise, it's absolutely impossible to watch/read/play the series without taking note of Madoka Kaname, Homura Akemi and their dynamic. Their characters, arcs and development are irrevocably connected with one another - no pun intended (yet) - and without them, we wouldn't even have a story to talk about to begin with. But let's start at the beginning, shall we.

On one hand, we have Homura - who initially started off as a shy and timid girl, prone to sickness and ridden by insecurities. Presumably raised as an orphan at a government-funded orphanage, she struggles to find her way, fitting in at school, keeping up, making friends and socializing in general - thus she becomes an easy target for corruption (we shall keep this in mind for later) and is almost being dragged into suicidal tendencies by a Witch... If it wasn't for the pink-haired Magical Girl (and her senpai) who is going to rescue her - and Homura has no idea yet that she'll end up committing her entire life and purpose to her soon after.

Madoka initially starts off as not considering herself to be anything special - but is still determined to do good as a Magical Girl, she appears to be straight-forward yet kind, gentle and welcoming... Especially towards Homura. So - is it really surprising that Homura, timid, insecure, lonely Homura, would end up thoroughly enchanted by Madoka? The first real friend she must have had in ages? The person who smiled at her, reached out and encouraged her in her pure, innocent ways? Absolutely not, it's highly relatable, endearing... And thus, it shall be even less surprising to see Homura not wanting to lose her again. The feeling of being wanted, appreciated - of not being alone anymore.

After watching Madoka sacrificing herself, ending up killed by Walpurgisnacht in the original timeline, Homura makes her wish to become a Magical Girl herself - not just to meet Madoka again, but to be the one to rescue her this time. What appears to be a wish of determined, unexpectedly confident heroism at first will, just like every other wish, turn out to be a multi-layered mess of human complexity. An underlying desire born from affection - that will eventually turn into something deeper, desperation, obsession, whatever you may want to call it.

Homura lives through countless timelines, repeating the same month over and over again to save Madoka, discovering the fate of Magical Girls to become Witches eventually along the way, becoming more and more skilled at weaponry combat... At some point, she was already perfectly ready to become a witch alongside Madoka, as long as they're together, destroying the entire world - but is held back by Madoka's wish to prevent her from falling for Kyubey. And thus, Homura thoroughly hyperfocuses on her personal mission, so she won't lose the last bit of hope, no matter how bleak the situation may be. However, in the process, she is growing more and more distant, not only from Madoka and their fellow magical girls, but also from herself. Hardened by the experiences, she develops a cool facade and a stoic attitude, swallowing and locking away emotional attachment to anything and anyone that is not Madoka in order to reach her goal.

With every timeline resetted, more karmic energy revolves around Madoka - but with Homura's wish revolving around saving her, she also becomes increasingly more timid, reserved and insecure each time(line). While her general stance on Homura is still mainly the same - finding her, her look and name cute/pretty -, their ability to relate to one another dwindles with every reset. Homura's attempts at reaching Madoka, as desperate as they may appear, rather scare and alienate Madoka - who cannot possibly understand what she has been going through, the time she had spent, the absolute commitment...

Until Madoka eventually makes her own wish to honour all of Homura's achievements - until she wishes for witches to never have existed and, enabled by all the karmic energy, she becomes a literal Goddess in the process, the Law of Cycles to keep magical girls from despairing, creating an entirely new universe... One in which she has never existed as a human, but only as a concept. Selflessly wishing for everybody's happiness - whereas Homura wishes she didn't. While Madoka thanks her for all she had done for her sake, giving her her red hair ribbons as memory for safekeeping, Homura cannot fully accept this new reality. She does fight on at first, honouring Madoka's wish within a world that has Wraiths instead of Witches, determined to defy anyone and anything that shall threaten her legacy... But this state isn't meant to last.

The long twintail-braids shy, timid Homura used to wear alongside her glasses, mirroring Madoka's red-ribboned twintails as a symbol of innocence, are merely a memory of who Homura Akemi is going to become. For the sake of her initial wish, for the sake of devotion and love that have turned into an obsession that doesn't allow much deviation. And her will to keep living in Madoka's universe is fragile - as she has to overcome temptation in the shape of shape-shifting Wraiths, showing her her beloved Madoka once more - just for example.

And eventually, despair takes over: Trapped within a Witches barrier inside of Homura's own Soul Gem, a world has formed that technically would have granted her biggest wish - a world in which Madoka exists happily alongside her and her/their friends, fighting together, living a peaceful life... But this world is just a facade as well, meant to lure the Goddess into a trap to regain power over the old Witch System of an alternate reality. And Homura, whose hair can never be turned back into braids again, who has lost her way and purpose, turned into a Witch and is ready to sacrifice herself if it means keeping Madoka safe once more. But even as she is, once again, mercifully saved by Madoka in the end in return in another act of selflessness - Homura's initial wish takes over. To be the one to save Madoka - in Homura's sense, means to stop her from being selfless for once, giving her the chance to live a normal life in another fake reality. It's Homura's, presumably, selfish desire in contrast to Madoka's - as they have truly become opposites in every single way. In order to fulfill her wish and become Madoka's sanctuary - even against her will -, she became a Devil to defy the Goddess' universe, following a corrupted form of love once born from the wish to protect the one most important to her. To maintain the image of Madoka she had formed in her head, regardless of whether that is what Madoka has eventually become and wished for by herself. And thus, she cannot wear Madoka's red ribbon, the sign of her legacy and innocence, anymore. A black dress and red eyes now have to face a white dress and golden eyes. The braids cannot return... At least not for now.

... Too long, didn't read: There is A LOT to work with, you already know all of this and yet, I am pretty sure I haven't been able to capture every aspect of them.

Whether I think why and how they’d work.

As mentioned, depending on timeline, universe, state of progression, their dynamic tends to be WILDLY DIFFERENT. You can take Moemura/Shy!Homura and OG!Madoka, you can take Cool!Homura and Anime!Madoka (and their various states in between), you can take EndofAnime!Homura and Madokami, you can take Rebellion!Homura and Rebellion!Madoka, Homucifer and Madokami and you can take Homucifer and FakeWorld!Madoka... The possibilities are ENDLESS (especially when you also include the more comedic-leaning portrayals in spin-off mangas like Homura Tamura).

The good part about this is - you can basically pick your poison, you can make this dynamic as wholesome or as toxic as you desire your own personal brand of Yuri to be. Which is, in my opinion, one of the aspects that make Madoka Magica and HomuMado in general so unbelievably intriguing.

Let's start with the toxic side of things, because I would argue that this is where Rebellion left us hanging and where Walpurgisnacht Rising might continue (at first): Homura's wish and her mingling created a very idealized version of Madoka in her head that she wishes to protect and maintain. Her initial thankfulness and endearment towards the kind, strong Madoka in the original timeline have basically been replaced by her unshaken desire to SAVE her. She has to be the one who (selfishly?) stops her from being selfless, she has to be the one to shield and protect her from any harm, keeping her locked in a precious glass bowl preferably nobody else can mess with. The problem here is that this version of Homura (which is basically Homucifer, but also several stages of her before that) cannot accept any other reading of reality than her own. Yes, in an ideal world, she could have allowed Madokami to finally take her away to exist with her in lesbian heaven for the rest of eternity - but that was not what Homura had wished for. And also probably not what Homura thought she deserved after everything she had done. In a way, having her turn into Homucifer was also some kind of self-chosen punishment as a "sinner"...

And Madoka, honestly speaking, probably had a very idealized version of Homura in her head as well. I'm not just talking about Rebellion!Madoka (or FakeReality!Madoka for that matter), whose memories had been tampered with, but also Madokami - who claimed to have seen all that Homura had done for her, in all timelines and realities... But apparently, she hadn't noticed her state of mind, her being so close to despairing and snapping because she just couldn't take this universe. That she couldn't let Mami or Kyouko in, no matter how hard they tried. She still felt alienated from them and lonely, thus she always reverted back to her initial goal, as she simply didn't belong into this universe. It kinda leads me to believe that it may be impossible for even Madokami to see Homura as anything other than the braided girl from the very beginning, her "best friend" from the original timeline.

Long story short - these two need to actually TALK for once. Getting to know their REAL CURRENT selves in whatever state or timeline that may be. Seriously, letting Madokami and Homucifer have a verbal conversation about all these misconceptions and misunderstandings about each other, talking about needs and desires and BOUNDARIES in a meta-kinda-way would be incredibly satisfying to watch. (And I am pretty sure, such scenarios exist in both fanfiction and doujins, but I haven't found them yet!)

Personally, I also highly enjoy the dynamic between Moemura and OG!Madoka - even after a few timelines have passed, as it has been depicted in the second season of the Magia Record anime. It gave me the impression that Homura had already gained a little bit of confidence and Madoka was still hands-on enough for them to be on a similar wavelength - which makes their dynamic among the healthiest in the entire franchise and gives them a lot of opportunities to bond and develop. For Homura to form a proper sense of self, encouraged by but not entirely dependent on Madoka. Actually, this version is also incredibly close to the Rebellion dream versions of Homura and Madoka - which, unsurprisingly, also is one of the most peaceful versions of them, having them sit together in a flower field, talking for hours about actual things. However, this Homura is still hyperfocusing on Madoka here - and it may not even have been her 100% authentic self, since her memories had been influenced by Homura's vision of her.

However, you have to allow them to talk and actually get to know each other and their flaws, let them banter and tease... Let Homura see and learn to accept undesirable aspects of Madoka - and let Madoka shout back at her if necessary. Deep down inside, they both adore and admire each other - which is why they were compatible in the original timeline in the first place. Homura admired Madoka for her strength, whereas Madoka admired Homura for her coolness. And they absolutely have the potential to help the other to become their best selves. But they need to see each other for who they really are and thus have to abandon codependent tendencies for it to work; Homura has to accept that Madoka is her own person who doesn't need to be overprotected - and Madoka has to accept that she cannot "save" Homura just by herself, but that she may encourage her to get therapy to deal with her self-image first. Let Homura understand that "love" also means to let go. Let her see that different people define "love" differently as well and that you have to understand how your significant other loves to love them back right.

Whether I’d prefer them as platonic or romantic ship.

When I had watched Madoka Magica for the first time approximately 10 years ago, I was positively - and obviously - in love with this ship and its potential. I adored Rebellion for how tragically it portrayed it - and again, I'm not even sure if I did them justice in comparison to everyone who wrote about them before me. As outlined above, it has various layers to pay attention to and I absolutely cannot wait to see how Walpurgisnacht Rising will add to my initial analysis of them. Because their dynamic WILL change, there is no denying.

Even after all this time, I still (want to) see the romantic potential between them. They may not be my favourite Madoka Magica ship anymore, but I still rate them very highly due to their complexity, my own nostalgia and hopefulness - although I'm aware that I would ship them in very idealized ways myself that are self-indulgently peaceful (and required a lot of therapy). As much as I want to see them get a happy end one way or another - I am currently very invested in exploring Madoka's and Homura's polycule potential dynamics with the other members of the Magica Quintet and am looking forward to writing more ship analysis posts soon!

[ruggiesbiologicalfather]

so i just finished book six (spoilers ahead obviously) and i was struck by how idia’s overblotting was so horribly devastating that i have to do a ramble on it

so all the other overblotters obviously had complex traumas (that’s part of the whole thing) but every one of them was driven by a cluster of complicated emotions all jumbled together. there was anger and bitterness and resentment and guilt and, yes sadness was present and accounted for, but there was so much else going on. with idia, it was just Sorrow

he didn’t want to make everyone pay for the things that happened to him. he didn’t need the suffering of others. he just wanted his brother alive and by his side again. he’s not angry at the world, he’s not bitter about his situation, he’s just… sad. he just misses his little brother

and even when he was in his overblot form (meaning Not In His Right Mind) his biggest concern was not that he was failing his mission to “reboot the world” but that his classmates were hurting ortho. there was such an intense and crushing devastation surrounding the entire situation. the loss, the hope of ortho’s return, the secondary loss when ortho is destroyed. like he was so close to getting his brother back and - boom - he’s gone again

and THEN the further emotional pain of being able to say to rebuilt ortho “you can go” and ortho sticking around ANYWAY. it’s not the same, it never will be, but they stick together ANYWAY. that’s so fucking sweet and also horrifically gut-punching in a way i can’t even explain. it’s like “i know you’re not really the ortho i knew but the ortho you are is good enough for me.” despite it all, they are still brothers and they’re gonna stay together

book 6 you will pay for what you did to me

[endlessburningdarkness]

If you wanted to write a AU of SVSSS Ending, with your ideas, what would you write?

is this about my bingqiu fix it idea?

i made a post about it once, here's the link: https://www.tumblr.com/endlessburningdarkness/759446410753097728/fic-im-working-on-bingqiu-au-after-maigu-ridge?source=share

basically the idea is post maigu ridge, shen yuan is absolutely traumatized and everyone else like liu quingge and yue qingyuan is horrified hen they find him near dead and with blood running down his thighs. they don't just let him go to luo binghe and he's not just magically okay after essentially being raped for the sake of plot. he could not give any proper consent because the alternative was the world ending. this is called coerced consent, and thus is sexual assault.

shen yuan saying he "chose" it doesn't change the fact that he felt he had no otehr choice, other than dying or letting the world get destroyed, which is not a choice obviously.

luo binghe also reacts more realistically and more emotionally intelligent and like he actually cares about shen yuan and not just about getting in his pants. he's horrified by what he unintentionally did. he gives shen yuan space and time to recover. making sure to wear different clothes than he did that day and not touching him or getting too close etc.

he self reflects and realizes he too was at fault for the events that happened.

shen yuan slowly heals and begins to experience his attraction to men as luo binghe is still there, making amends by fixing up the mess he created when trying to end the world. he's sometimes practising without a shirt for example and shen yuan admires him. shen yuan realizes and accepts he's into men but is still nervous about sex with binghe because he's fucking traumatized and doesn't want that dick anywhere near him. he has nightmares and they don't sleep together.

as i said things slowly get better, with binghe's patience and reassurance that they never have to do anything helping shen yuan gan confidence in his own desires. luo binghe goes to a brothel to learn how to pleasure a man, and then goes home and practices with a dildo he got from the brothel ladies.

then he eventually seduces shen yuan slowly and gently, and they have amazing loving, non-coerced, non-guilty tripped, not "i'll endure because i must" but actually genuinely mutually desirable and enjoyable sex. shen yuan gets the sex god husband he deserves and luo binghe is reassured that he won't hurt his beloved ever again. shen yuan also has some character growth, realizing luo binghe is not just the "protagonist" who MUST TOP, because luo binghe bottoms for him and loves it.

fixed.

[ephemeralinstance]

Solas, Rook, and Mirroring

One important thing we learned about Solas in Inquisition is that he mirrors: if you approach him with ego, he responds with sarcasm and cutting words, but if you approach him with openness and curiosity, he responds with humility and kindness.  And this is very much carried through to Veilguard: it's simply less obvious there, because Rook is only able to approach Solas as an enemy, so Solas always mirrors by treating Rook as an enemy. This isn't a criticism of Rook, of course: given the circumstances of their meeting, it's natural that they see Solas first and foremost as a threat. But it's important to Solas' characterization in the game that even if you choose the nicest dialogue options, Rook makes no secret of the fact that they see Solas that way. For example, Rook never asks Solas about his motivations for taking down the Veil, and instead projects assumptions on him, insisting repeatedly that he was trying to 'destroy the world.' They also make no attempt to treat him with kindness: is Solas suffering from the isolation? Is he starving to death in the prison? Rook could have asked, but they never do. And perhaps most importantly, Rook never makes any mention of getting Solas out of the prison: it seems clear that they intend to leave Solas trapped there forever. Here, it's easy to forget how truly desperate Solas must be, because through it all he maintains his composed and even smug facade; he doesn't want Rook to see his vulnerability. As we know from Inquisition, he's only snarky like this with people he doesn't like and doesn't trust: it's the same dynamic he has with Vivienne, and in his early dialogues with Dorian and Iron Bull. From that point of view, it's clear that Solas is trading verbal jabs with Rook precisely as a way of keeping them at a distance. But the reality is that he's trapped alone in a prison designed to psychologically torture him, and since Rook clearly isn't going to release him, he'll be trapped alone forever unless he finds a way out. For a man whose greatest fear is dying alone, this must be a terrible prospect. This is why I find it hard to really blame Solas for what he does to Rook - it's hurtful and unkind, yes, but it's his only way out of an eternity of torment, and who among us would not take desperate measures to escape that? Moreover, it's here that Solas' actions towards Rook most clearly mirror those of Rook towards Solas. Rook intended to leave Solas trapped in the prison forever; so Solas literally switches them, leaving Rook trapped there instead. Rook doesn't show kindness toward Solas, so Solas responds with unkindness towards Rook. And although what Solas does is in a superficial sense a 'betrayal,' in many ways it isn't really a betrayal, because you can only betray friends or allies, and Solas is not either of those things to Rook: they might have worked together out of necessity, but ultimately Rook treats Solas as an enemy, and so that's what he becomes. All of this makes me very curious about what might have happened if Rook had treated Solas differently. For the sake of the plot, clearly it was necessary that Rook should treat Solas as an enemy, so Solas could mirror that back. But I wonder what might have happened if Rook had showed kindness, or had some curiosity about Solas' motivations, or even been willing to discuss with Solas some options for eventually getting him out of the prison. By the logic of Solas as a mirror, this would have necessarily changed Solas' behaviour, and thus there might have been a different outcome. How might the ending might have looked if Rook had genuinely tried to befriend Solas? Could there have been a different way out for both of them?