#this whole situation fucks with me so much

[itaipava]

— f1 boys and the moment they go “fuck it”

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

you’re both a little drunk, but sober enough to know what you’re doing. he loves testing your limits, so he makes a bet with you over something trivial, promising a “prize” if you win. when you win and smile victoriously, he laughs and says, “i guess i owe you something special, right?” you nod, ready to receive whatever it is. he leans in, eyes shining, and whispers, “i hope this counts,” before giving you a kiss that feels playful and intense at the same time.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

you’ve always had a fun friendship, where you could joke around and have fun with each other all the time, and tonight was no different. you’ve been teasing him all night, playfully testing his limits. he’s been patient, smiling, until you say something that pushes him over the edge, “oh you want to kiss me so bad right now,” you say playfully as he wouldn’t stop looking at your lips. he looks serious for a moment and you think he doesn’t like what you said, but he just gets even closer, his voice low and intense, “you have no idea how much,” before leaning in and kissing you, finally giving in to what he’s wanted for so long.

˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

you're alone in your room while music plays. you thought you were alone and he was in the living room, but he was silently watching you sway, mesmerized. he always admired you from afar and never hid it, but at that moment, something changes inside him like never before. he thought a lot before doing it, but it was only when he stopped thinking that he finally did it: he approaches, puts a hand on your waist and, without saying a word, pulls you close, holding you as if you were the only two people in the world. you were startled by his sudden attitude, but you quickly melted in his arms as he hugged you and pulled you even closer to him while your lips were danced together.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

you’d never argued before, but at that moment, your nerves were on edge; you were both frustrated with each other. the room fell silent as the tension shifted, and he was staring at you, breathless. you tried to look away from him, but something about him held you back; he was a mess. suddenly, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken emotions between you, finally letting everything that had been bottled up come out.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

he watches you from afar as you talk and laugh with another guy, and even though he knows he has no claim, it still stirs something primal in him; he just couldn't stop staring at you, and you noticed it. later, when you're alone, you tease him about it and ask him why he couldn't stop looking at you like that. he knows you were having fun with the situation, but he wasn't. you thought it was no big deal, but for him it changed everything. "i hated seeing you with someone else," he finally admits, serious as he stares at you. you look at him for a few seconds and smile, he smiles back and takes your face, finally kissing you - and claiming you his.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

it’s late and you’re saying goodbye after spending the whole day together; he loves being with you, but he hates the time to say goodbye. it feels like time passes so quickly with you but so painfully slowly when you’re apart. he also knows that you hate goodbyes, so you’re lingering at the door, neither wanting to part. he takes your hand, holding it a little tighter, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “maybe… i don’t want to say goodbye yet,” he says and his eyes shine at you. he leans in, finally pressing his lips to yours as he places his hand on the back of your neck and the other on your waist.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

it’s late and you’re both tired from the party you just attended. people have started to leave, but you’re too busy with each other to care. you’re in the garden of the huge house, sitting on the grass and admiring the stars. he looks at you laughing at something he told you, your voice soft and open, and something inside him snaps. his heart starts to beat faster as he’s mesmerized by you. he blurts out, “sorry, i can’t pretend anymore,” and pulls you closer to him, his hands shaking with anticipation and desire as he finally takes your face carefully and kisses you, completely melting into the taste of you.

˒ ⌕ LIAM LAWSON

he loves listening to you and always listens attentively. but lately he hasn't been able to hold himself back: whenever you start talking, he has to look away or think about something else, because he's on the verge of finally giving in to you. you have a surprising effect on him that he's never felt before, and today was no different: while you're talking, he suddenly goes quiet, his eyes fixed on yours with an intense gaze. "sorry," he murmurs, "i know you're saying something important, but i just… i can't concentrate when you're so close." he's also surprised by what he just said, but he doesn't wait for an answer, pulling you into that kiss he's been holding back for so, so long.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

you’re both running to take cover from an unexpected downpour, and you’re both soaking wet, laughing and out of breath. he looks at you, hair drenched and eyes shining as you laugh, and realizes he can’t contain himself anymore. you’re the most beautiful and charming person he’s ever met in his life, and he can’t hide it anymore. he’s afraid of losing you; of losing the opportunity to finally be with you. so, without saying a word, he gently caresses your cheek and smiles with you before pulling you into a passionate kiss, with the rain running down both of you. in that moment, he felt like he was floating. in that moment, nothing else mattered, it was just you and him in the world.

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 1

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Koschei the Deathless Sorcerer was killed by the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

It was less dramatic than it sounded. At least Azriel thought so. 

And if Lucien hadn’t been a fucking idiot and put himself into a position to be kidnapped by the very same deathless sorcerer…then they wouldn’t even have been in that kind of situation. 

But he had been and so it ended with Azriel so magically exhausted that he collapsed the very same moment Truthteller stroke true once more. 

At least Koschei was slayn. 

And the only reason Azriel had gone to rescue the red-headed male in the first place was the fact that  Lucien was Elaine’s mate. Lucien was the male Elain loved. Azriel couldn’t let him die. 

Couldn’t let Elain feel the devastation of a mating bond broken by death…so his decision making had been quick. Either he would manage to get Lucien free…or he would die trying.  There wasn’t many things that he wouldn’t do for the female he loved. Even when he knew it shouldn’t be. 

Azriel had never been very good at knowing when enough was enough after all, wasn’t he?

No price was high enough to pay when it was about Elain’s happiness, as far as Azriel was concerned.  

He hadn't expected to wake up, and yet… there he was. Alive and whole.

*I hope it was worth it, Master,* the shadows sniped at him.

He blinked, taking in the dim light of the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. His room in the House of Wind.

“You are a fucking idiot, you know?” Cassian hissed at him from his place at his bedside and Azriel blinked at him.

"Lucien?" he brought out hoarsely.

"Not as much as a fucking scratch on him. Thanks to you," Cassian responded. "You on the other hand...Madja thought you were going to fucking die from pure magical exhaustion!"

Even Azriel he had...it would have been worth it. Lucien had made it out alive - and that was all that mattered in the end. Elain would be happy. That was all he cared about.

He didn't say that aloud though. 

He took a deep breath, opening his eyes again. "How long was I out?" he asked.

"Three days," Cassian growled. "Three. Days."

Azriel sat up slowly, wincing at the ache in his muscles. It felt like his entire body was one giant bruise, every inch of him pained and sore.

"Lay back down," Cassian snapped.

Azriel shot him a glare, but sank back onto the bed nonetheless. "I'm fine," he grumbled. "Just tired."

"Yeah, well, we'll let Madja be the judge of that," Cassian snapped. "And when you are feeling better, I am going to kill you for going off on your own!"

Azriel just gave him a weary look. "Better me than you," he said dryly. He closed his eyes, feeling a deep exhaustion settle over him. Cassian had Nesta to think about. Azriel didn't. Azriel just had himself.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Cassian demanded.

Azriel didn't have the energy to answer

He dosed off, feeling the shadows twine around him. They were muttering, words he could c quite understand, bitching under their breath but for once it was comforting.

He woke up, feeling groggy and disoriented. His eyes felt like sandpaper, and his limbs were heavy. He groggily blinked at the room, feeling like he was in a haze.

It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone. Cassian was still there, as was Madja.

Azriel groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head was throbbing, and his vision was a little blurred. He rubbed his face, trying to clear the fog from his mind. "Hey," he said, his voice rough and gravelly.

Cassian and Madja both looked at him, their expressions relieved. "How are you feeling?" Madja asked him, moving closer to the bed and waving a hand in front of his face.

"Like I was hit by a wagon," Azriel admitted. His muscles felt tight and sore, his body heavy with fatigue. His wings felt like they were made of lead, and every movement took a huge effort.

"That's unsurprising considering you nearly magicked yourself to death," Madja said gruffly. "Your body had a tremendous amount of stress and strain put on it. You're lucky to be alive."

He gritted his teeth. "Yeah, well, I didn't have a lot of other options," he pointed out.

Madja just let out a huff and began prodding and poking at his body, running her hands over his wings and checking his pulse. Cassian watched anxiously from the side, his arms crossed over his chest.

Azriel bore her ministrations in silence, trying not to wince as she poked and prodded at him. He knew she was just trying to help, but it didn't make the ordeal any more pleasant.

After what felt like forever, she finally stepped back, nodding to herself. "You're lucky, shadowsinger," she said gruffly. "You're lucky you're so damn resilient," she said, and he couldn't tell if it was a compliment or just an observation.

He looked at her blearily. "I guess I can add that to my list of things to be proud of," he muttered sarcastically.

Cassian barked out a laugh, but Madja just rolled her eyes. The door opened at that moment. "How's he doing?" Rhys demanded.

Azriel wanted to let out a sigh at the sight of Rhys. He loved his brother, but he didn't have the energy for a lecture right now.

Madja turned to Rhys. "He's weak and he's stupid," she snapped. "But he's alive."

Rhys let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "Thank you, Madja," he said. "Would you...give us a moment?"

Madja nodded, patting Azriel's leg as she got up to leave. "Rest," she ordered. "And no strenuous activity for at least a week."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Rhys turned to Azriel. "What were you thinking?" he demanded, his eyes blazing.

"I was thinking that I was saving Lucien's life," Azriel replied evenly, meeting his brother's gaze. "I couldn't let him die, Rhys."

"Wouldn't that have made it easier for you?* Rhys demanded sharply mentally. *You are the one that fancies himself in love with Elain.*

Maybe it shouldn't hurt him as much as it did. He didn't fancy himself in love with her. He was in love with her. Had been in love with her and Rhys had been the one to order him away from her, which had given Lucien the opportunity to swoop in and Elain had...Elain had given in. Given in to that Siren Song of the Mating Bond and was very much in love with her mate now. 

It hurt to hear Rhys say it like that, like it was just some passing infatuation that he'd gotten over.

*Lucien is her mate,* he responded simply. He didn't say what he really thought. He didn't say that he would rather have Elain be happy and never talk with him again than to have her wilt like one of her flowers because her mate had died and the mating bond would be broken… He didn't say that he loved Elain enough, that her happiness was more important to him than anything else. He didn't say any of that.

*At least you are recognising that now,* Rhys said with a snort.  Azriel didn't flinch. Didn't react.

He hid away in that little corner of his brain he went to when everything became too much. Where he could just shut up all his feelings, all these pesky emotions, and just be...nothing. Nothing. That's the only thing he still had left.

He just shrugged, schooling his face into a careless expression. "I did what I had to do, Rhys," he repeated stubbornly. "Lucien is a good male. He didn't deserve to die."

"Elain wants to thank you," Rhys said suddenly.

Azriel's stomach twisted as Rhys mentioned Elain. He felt a pang of longing in his chest, a desperate ache to see her, to touch her, to hear her voice. But he knew he couldn't. He couldn't subject himself to the torture of seeing her with her mate, seeing her happy in Lucien's arms.

So his answer was definite: "There is no need for that," he said simply.

Rhys gave him a sharp look. "Don't be an idiot," he said gruffly. "She's been worried sick about you."

But Azriel just shook his head, even as his heart thudded in his chest.

*You can keep it together for 5 minutes,* Rhys snapped into his mind.

"Rhys," Cassian said carefully. "If he doesn't want to, just let it..."

"He's being ridiculous," Rhys snapped, interrupting Cassian. "Elain is family.”

Azriel grit his teeth but didn't respond. He didn't have the energy for an argument right now. He just wanted to sleep.

*See her for 5 minute snad then you can sulk like a spoiled child until you feel better about yourself,* Rhys bargained drily.

Azriel hesitated. He knew he should see her, knew that it would make things easier for everyone if he did. But the thought of seeing her, seeing her happy with Lucien when he was so miserable, was like a knife to the gut.

"Does it even matter what I want?" he asked, his voice flat.

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh, looking at him with exasperation. "Az, stop being so damned stubborn. Elain has been worried sick about you - the least you can do is let her see that you are alive."

Azriel didn't say anything. Didn't respond. He just stared at Rhys, feeling like every fiber of his being was being pulled apart. He wanted to see her. Wanted to see her more than anything. But he knew that once he saw her, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together. He would break. He would shatter into a thousand pieces.

"Just...come on, Az," Rhys said finally. "Let her see you. She needs to know you're alright."

Azriel knew he couldn't say no. Knew he couldn't hurt her like that. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Fine," he said softly. "But just for five minutes."

Five minutes. He could do five minutes. He had to. For her…

She was still as achingly beautiful as she always had been. These devasting brown eyes, the caramel curls...

Azriel's breath hitched at the sight of her, and he felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over him. Love, longing, sadness, and that bittersweet pang of being so close to something he could never have.

Behave, Rhys warned him sharply.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Trying to push back that wave of feelings that threatened to drown him. It was just five minutes, he reminded himself. Five minutes. He could do this.

The shadows swirled around him, welling up with intensity, shrouding much of his body in inky blackness and Elain flinched back from them.

She had never quite warmed up to them. Azriel was just thankful for that display, for keeping her away from him as she entered the room, Lucien on her heels.

"How...How are you feeling?" she asked him, her voice soft.

He could tell that she was worried, that she was concerned for him. It warmed something inside him, and he hated himself for it. 

"I'm fine," Azriel answered hoarsely.  "Just tired.

"I...thank you," Elain said softly, binting her lip. "If you hadn't...if you hadn't killed Koschei and freed Lucien...I...Thank you, Azriel."

Hearing her say his name again was like a punch to the gut. It was both a comfort and a torture, to be so close to her and yet so far away. He swallowed hard, biting back the words that threatened to spill out.

"You don't owe me any thanks," he said quietly. "I just did what had to be done."

"I do owe you my life," Lucien disagreed. "Thank you. Without your interference...I wouln't have survived, " he said flatly.

Azriel just shrugged, feeling a wave of bitterness wash over him. He had saved Lucien, had risked his life to save the male who was mated to the female he loved. It was a strange sort of irony.

"It's fine," he said roughly. "I'm just glad I got there in time."

He couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at Lucien. It hurt too much. So he stared at the floor, willing the shadows to consume him entirely.

"We are all just happy you are feeling alright," Elain said softly. "I...I was worried about you. Everyone was."

Azriel forced himself to look up at her, his heart clenching at the sincerity in her eyes. She really had been worried about him. "I'm alright," he promised her, his voice rough. "Really. I just need some rest."

Elain hesitated, taking a step forward. He could hear her heartbeat, could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. It was torture to be so close to her and yet so far away. It was torture to know that she was so close and yet so unattainable. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to hold her, but he knew he couldn't. He held onto that last shred of reason he had.

She tugged a piece of hair behind one delicately arched ear...and that was the moment he saw the gold and pearl ring that decorated her ring finger.

"Congratulations." He wasn't sure how he even brought out these words...how he managed to make them sound...appropriately happy for her.

It took a herculean effort to say those words, to offer a smile that barely reached his eyes. Every fibre of his being was screaming in protest, yelling that he should have been the one giving her that ring, that he should have been the one by her side. But he pushed back those feelings, burying them deep down inside of himself. He couldn't let her see how he truly felt. He couldn't let her know how much it was tearing him apart to stand there and look at her. Look at her with her mate, with the male she loved, the one she had chosen. 

"Congratulation," he repeated, his voice a little rougher than before.

"It wouldn't have been possible without you," Elain said, with a smile.

Azriel just nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. He couldn't find the words to respond, couldn't find the words to express the tangle of emotions swirling inside of him. He just sat there, feeling more alone and isolated than he had in a long time.

Elain took another step in his direction, seemingly ready to reach out, but Cassian intercepted her. placing a gentle hand on Elain's shoulder. "He needs his rest," he said softly. "Let's leave him be for now."

Azriel felt a pang of gratitude towards Cassian. Elain hesitated, looking torn.

"I wish you every happiness," Azriel brought out his voice hoarsely. Not even a lie.  It was the frank truth in these words and Elain gave him a smile, before Lucien's hand came to rest at her lower back, guiding her out of the room.

Thank the cauldron. They were gone. 

He slumped back into the pillow.  He was falling apart. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He just wanted to be left alone, to lick his wounds in peace.

"Az..." Cassian said carefully, but he cut him off.

“I am tired,” Azriel said, his voice hoarse. “I need to sleep.”

The shadows swirled around him tighter. 

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a look, before Cassian nodded, "Alright," he said. "Get some rest."

He laid down properly, closing his eyes, calling the shadows to him wordlessly. They swamred around him immediately. Damn Near suffocating him.  It was the only thing that kept him from starting to sob.

The shadows embraced him, wrapping him in their inky blackness, shielding him from the outside world. They were his only comfort, just like they had been for centuries. 

*We are there, Master.* They promised him softly. *It will be fine, Master.*

He didn’t believe a fucking word they said. 

*We are not willing to lose you, Master. We aren’t interested in finding a new master,* they told him seriously. He choked out a laugh that turned into a sob. 

*Sleep, Master. We'll keep watch,* they promised him.

And they did. 

Bone deep exhaustion meant that at least his sleep was dreamless. At least that was given to him. It was a small mercy. 

When he woke up again, Nesta was there, sitting in an armchair reading.

Azriel blinked, feeling disoriented and groggy. He sat up slowly, wincing as his wounds protested the movement. Nesta looked up from her book, her expression neutral.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him quietly.

"Fine," he answered, his voice hoarse. He was fine. He would be fine. 

"Thank you," Nesta said suddenly.

Azriel looked up at her, surprised. He wasn't even sure what she was thanking him for.

"For what?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“You nearly got yourself killed to save my sister’s mate. I think Thank you is the least I owe you," Nesta said drily.

She mustered him with grey eyes and he knew that she knew. Knew that she knew or at the very least could guess about his feelings for Elain and probably be right. She wouldn't say anything, but she knew.

He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. It was over with. Done. 

Lucien and Elain could be happy and Azriel…Azriel would hide away somewhere. 

"You don't owe me anything," he waved Nesta off weakly, but she didn’t seem to want to take the hint, sticking out her chin. 

"Yes, I do," Nesta disagreed. "You are the reason why my little sister is happy right now," she told him fiercely. He swallowed down the unkind words at the tip of her tongue...didn't say anything. Didn't.... He didn’t want to think about this. He didn’t…

"Is there anything I can do?" Nesta asked him, her voice soft. "Anything at all, Az?" H knew that he could ask for anything and Nesta would do her level best to give it to him. She was stubborn like that. He had half a mind to ask her to use her silver flames to put him on fire and put him out of his misery. 

He didn’t. 

Even that wouldn’t fix it. 

There was nothing. There was absolutely nothing to make it any better. There was nothing that could...that could fix the ache in his chest.

"Porridge," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Porridge?" Nesta repeated incrediously.

"Porridge with honey. I am hungry," he repeated, meeting her gaze. Food. Food. More Sleep. More Work. He could fill his waking hours with useless things and everybody would be happy. 

Nesta just looked at him for a moment, then inclined her head.

"Porridge with honey. Alright," she agreed. Just a moment later a massive bowl of Porridge with honey drizzled on top, appeared on his bedside table, so hot it was steaming. Seemed like the house was in a mood to spoil him. He even got a whiff of cinnamon from it.

"Thank you," he thanked Nesta's creature aloud as the shadows fetched the bowl and held it up for him to eat a spoonful. "What are you reading?" he asked Nesta, changing the topic. 

She was polite enough not to say anything about it. 

Nesta held up her book. “The newest Sellyn Drake novel,” she replied.

"Is it any good?" he inquired, stirring his porridge gently.

“It’s brilliant," Nesta gushed, her eyes devoured the pages as soon as she looked down to continue reading.

"You seem to really like it," he pointed out, taking another bite of his porridge. "It is brilliant," Nesta agreed readily. “The plot is so intricate and twists and turns and the characters are so deep and complex and their emotions are so real and the romance is so...” she trailed off, blushing slightly.

He opened his mouth to respond...but then he heard her.

Mor. Of course.

He couldn’t deal with Mor. Not right now. But there she was, Rhys hot on her heels.

Nesta heard her too, rolling her eyes, curling back up on her chair, making it very clear that while she was going nowhere, she was letting him deal with it on her own. 

And he didn’t want to deal with Mor. 

But there she was. 

Mor came strolling into the room, her usual confident smile firmly in place. Rhys just looked at Azriel, his expression unreadable.

He didn't say it.  But Azriel knew. Behave. That’s all Rhys was telling him these days.  Either it was about Elain and Lucien...or about Mor and Emerie. Like Azriel would ever do anything to put that in jeopardy. Like Azriel was a jealous child that wouldn't allow Mor to be happy on her own terms. Like...

Azriel ignored the sharp pang of hurt that shot through him at Rhys's look.

Still it was better than looking at Mor…he couldn’t bear to look at Mor. 

 Didn't want to look at Mor, in her usual bright red, skin baring dress, that clung to all her curves...didn't want to look at the female he had spent centuries in love with even when he had known that she was never going to return his affections...it hadn't helped him. He had still been in love with her.

And he had still hoped...hoped against all hope that maybe...maybe there would be a time where she would return his affection...that maybe there would be a time where...

But there wouldn't. He knew. He knew. And he had still been in love with her.

Would have given damn near anything for her attention, for that broad smile on her face to be directed in his direction...would have given anything for her to bound over to his bedside and envelope him in her arms...to feel her soft skin against his as she hugged him fiercely, cinnamon and citrus enveloping him.

Now...now it felt like somebody was pouring salt into a gaping wound. Now it felt as painful as the fire and oil on his hands had. She was flaying him alive and she wasn’t even aware that she was hurting him. 

"How are you feeling, Az?" Mor's voice was gentle, concerned. He knew it was genuine, knew that Mor really cared about him. But he couldn't bring himself to look at her. Not when his heart was bleeding out just from the sound of her voice.

"Fine," he answered, his voice flat. "Nothing that sleep won't fix," he promised her, even as her hands fluttered around him as she sat down on his bedside...

She was so close. He could reach out and touch her, could feel the soft fabric of her dress against his fingertips. He clenched his fists, willing himself to keep his hands to himself.

But he couldn't help it. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. He could see the concern there, the worry. He felt a pang of guilt for putting that look on her face. He didn't want to cause her any distress. 

"I'm just glad you are feeling better," Mor sighed, gently patting his arm. "You had us all worried for a moment there," she admitted softly.

Even just the touch of her hand felt like she was branding him. He wanted to flinch away and forced himself no to.

It was like a bittersweet poison, the way she touched him. It was so familiar, so comforting. But it was also so painful, a reminder of what he could never have.

He looked away, staring down at his hands. They were shaking, just a little. He clasped them together, the monstrous scars that covered them, standing out starkly.

The shadows trembled around him, pulling nearer, growing darker and Mor watched them with a raised eyebrow. "Worried, are they?" she teased him slightly.

*You are fine, Master,* the shadows promised him. *No more fire,* they promised him fiercely. But it didn’t help. He didn’t trust himself to speak without his voice cracking.

Mor seemed to sense his discomfort and stood up, her hand slipping from his arm. "Just rest and get better soon, alright?" she said softly, taking a step back.

"Thank you," he thanked her, his voice hoarse.

He risked a glance up at her, just a quick look. Her face was soft, her eyes filled with warmth. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest and he had to look away again. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

"We should let him rest, Mor," Rhys said, giving Azriel another look.

"Right, right," Mor agreed, already turning towards the door. "Rest up, Az," she said again, giving him one last smile as she disappeared out the door.

Azriel felt a sense of relief wash over him as she left the room. 

Gone. Thank the cauldron. He couldn't take much more of her presence, not right now. 

He didn't even want to know why Rhys had accompanied her. Probably because he was worried that Azriel wasn't going to behave.

What was he supposed to do instead? Tell Mor about how much she had hurt him over the centuries? How she had given him jut enough scraps of her affection to make him yearn for more but never telling him that she didn’t love him like that? 

He wasn’t going to do that. 

He didn't want to look at Rhys right now, didn't want to face the scrutiny of his high lord's gaze. He just wanted to be left alone.

He knew that Rhys was watching him, that the male wanted to say something. But Azriel didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear the lecture, the warning. He just wanted to be left alone.

The room fell silent, except for the sound of his own breathing. He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the mattress. Maybe if he just pretended to sleep, Rhys would leave him alone.

"He's tired. You should let him sleep," Nesta said flatly.

Leave it to Nesta to tell Rhys to stuff it, he reflected weakly. He heard Rhys sigh, but he kept his eyes closed. And after a moment, he heard the sound of footsteps leaving the room.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. 

Alone. Safe. Mostly at least. 

Life went on. It always did.

The exhaustion went away after a few days... he caught up on Paperwork in the meantime. He sent the shadows off to find him one information or other and they didn't even bitch to him that badly, which told him that even they felt bad for him.

Behave. That’s all Rhys was telling him these days.

So he did. He behaved.

He did his job. He did everything Rhys could possibly want from his spymaster. 

He didn’t argue. He didn’t fight. He did his job and he trained and he did everyhting that was expected off him. 

And then he hadn’t tortured himself enough… and he went to visit Rosehall.

Where his mother lived.

Under the Mountains had it’s own kind consequences. This was one of them: His mother didn’t even want to talk to him anymore. 

50 years without him...and his mother had made herself a new family. A family that he wasn’t welcome in. A family that she wanted him nowhere near. He couldn’t fault her for it. Not at all.

She had been half a child when she had had him and it hadn’t been by choice.

So who could blame her for making a new family with people that weren’t as fucked up in the head as he was? Not Azriel.

Azriel didn’t blame her at all. Azriel left her in peace. He didn't reach out. He made sure that she was fine, that she had enough money to never worry about it and otherwise dissappeared from her life. 

His shadows kept an eye on her…He shored up the wards around Rosehall and caught a glimpse of her. And then he left it at that. She looked happy. That’s all he cared about.

Happy and safe and…she didn’t need him. She didn’t want him around her either, and he could understand that too.

And still, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much. 

But 

*You know the rules,* he told the shadows quietly. *You don’t need to report to me about her anymore. Keep an eye on her and only tell me if she is in danger or hurt.*

*Yes, Master,* they agreed readily. 

So he went back to the House of Wind. Back to Velaris…Back to work. 

He went back to his routine, back to his duties, back to his mask of indifference. He hid the pain behind his usual stoic facade, only letting his shadows know how much it hurt. He threw himself into his work, using it as a way to distract himself from his own loneliness.

And when he wasn't working, he would spend hours and hours in the training ring in the House of Wind, working himself to exhaustion. Anything to try and drown out the ache in his heart.

For gods sake, he even attended Elain and Lucien’s mating ceremony. And gifted them an appropriate gift. He behaved just like Rhys wanted him too.

He even summoned up a smile for them on their special day, hiding his own pain behind a mask of false happiness. He congratulated them both, feeling a pang in his chest at the sight of Elain's beaming face. But he didn’t let it show. He behaved. Like Rhys wanted him too.

He stayed for the whole thing. Stayed for the dancing, stayed for the feast. Stayed until he could physically take it no more. And then he had retreated to that training ring again, beating his pain and loneliness out on whatever dummy he could find.

He was so tired. Tired of hiding, tired of pretending. Tired of pretending like nothing was wrong. He wanted nothing more than to just scream and rage and shout and cry. But he didn’t. He held it all in. Bottled it up like he was so good at doing.

He was in the bathtub, sluicing off the sweat he was drenched in…shaking off his wings just because he could move them however he wanted to

*You should go out, Master,* the shadows suggested seriously. *Go out and find a female.*

He just snorted. *Not interested,* he sniped back harshly. *I am not getting my heart broken again.*

Everybody could just fuck off and leave him alone. Even when he was aching…aching for somebody in his life that loved him. For whom he could be everything. Somebody he could dote on. Somebody that wanted his attention, that wanted his love…that would like his ruined hands on their body and wasn’t paid to simply acccept it. 

*You could let us pick her!* the shadows suggested brightly.

His eyes snapped back open and he glared at the shadows swirling around the room. *Absolutely not,* he said firmly. *I mean it, you stay out of it.*

*We can’t do a worse job than you do,* they sniped at him. *Neither The Seer nor The Morrigan would have suited you at all.*

*Excuse me?!* 

*You heard us, Master,* the shadows said, sounding far too smug for their own good. *And you know it.*

Azriel just glared at them, feeling his temper start to rise. *I know I wasn’t good enough for them,* he snapped. *You don’t need to tell me that.*

*You think you weren’t good enough for them?!* The shadows asked him incredulously.

*They deserve better. So much better than me,* he said quietly. "I'm not good enough for either of them. Never was.*

What was he, after all? An Illyrian bastard? A monster? Either? Both? 

He had never said it out loud before, not even to himself. But in that moment, lying in the water, his heart so raw and exposed, he couldn't help but speak the truth that he had always known but never admitted to himself. "I'm not good enough for either of them," he repeated softly, the weight of his words settling heavily on his chest.

He knew it was true. Mor was a golden ray of light, the embodiment of beauty and grace. Elain was sweet and gentle and kind, a pure soul in a sea of darkness. 

And what was he? Damaged. Broken. Scarred. Inside and out.

He had done unspeakable things, things that would haunt his nightmares for centuries to come. He was nothing compared to them. He was darkness, they were light. And they deserved better than him, far better than him.

Even if he had loved Mor with every fiber of his being, even if he had yearned for her with every beat of his heart, even if he had dreamed of her every night, it didn't matter. It had never mattered. Because he wasn't good enough for her. And he never would be.

He wasn’t good enough for Elain. The mother hadn’t thought it to be prudent to make them mates. Both of his brother had been gifted with a mating bond, but not him. That should tell him everything he needed to know abotu the state of his own soul. 

So why…why should he even try anymore. 

Why shouldn’t he just stew in his own misery, alone and heartbroken and a monster and expect everybody to just leave him alone? There was no point of putting himself out there again. There was nothing out there for him. Nothing but more pain.​​

So he closed his eyes again, sinking lower into the water, letting the warmth soothe his aching muscles. He let out a long sigh, his mind already racing with thoughts of his next missions, his next assignments. Because that was all that really mattered now. His job. His duties. His responsibilities. That was all he had left.

Behave. That’s all he was good for. 

*Alright, that’s fucking enough,* the shadows snapped. *You are not letting The High Lord talk to you like that any longer, Master.*

Azriel was so surprised by their fucking vehemence that he could just stare at them. 

*The Morrigan used you for centuries to make herself feel better about herself,* the shadows snapped. *She used the feelings you had for her and that she was very much aware of to strangle you and keep you in line.*

Azriel swallowed. He knew they were right. He knew that Mor had used his feelings for her for a long time. She had led him on, given him false hope, only to yank it away time and time again. It had been a painful cycle, one that had left him feeling used and broken and worthless.

*She could have stopped at any time but she never did,* the shadows hissed. *But instead she hurt you on purpose. Instead of turning you down, she slept with other males to show you that you would never have her!*

Azriel felt bile rise in the back of his throat. Mor had flaunted her other lovers in front of him, making it clear that he would never be enough for her. She had used his devotion to her as a weapon against him, wielding it whenever it suited her needs. And he had let her. He had been foolish, desperate enough to cling onto any scrap of affection she might throw his way.

*And The Seer?! Granted she has never done that, but her feelings for you weren’t particular deep when she replaced you on her affections with The Fox as soon as you weren’t available anymore! If she had cared, truly cared, she would have thought about what happened during Winter Solstice,* the shadows snapped.

*And The High Lord? Don’t even let us get started on him,* the shadows snapped. *You haven’t even done anything since that Winter Solstice, and he keeps behaving like some kind of despotic Overlord, worried that his orders won’t be followed. If you wanted to punch him in the face, you probably had every right to it,* they mumbled.

Azriel couldn’t help but snort. 

*You deserve better, Master,* The shadows told him fiercely. *You deserve somebody that loves you.* 

. He wanted to believe the shadows. He wanted to believe that he was good enough, that he deserved more. But the scars on his body and the memories in his mind told him otherwise. He had done terrible things, things that he could never undo. How could someone like that be good enough for anyone?

*Alright,* he finally agreed weakly. *Find me a house,* he told the shadows, as he closed his eyes.

*A house? What kind of house?* the shadows gave back, sounding surprised.

*A house,* he repeated. *A home. Somewhere in Velaris. Find me a home.* Something that could just be his.

A home. The idea sent a flutter through his stomach. He had never…never truly had a home. Had something that could just be his and nobody else’s. Just…a place that was his, where he could be whoever he wanted, where he was accepted and loved...it was appealing. Maybe even more than just appealing.

He closed his eyes, picturing it in his mind. A cozy little house, just large enough for himself. Warm and cozy and filled with light.

*That’s what a male needs to take a wife after all, right?* He asked, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. Was that what he should want? What he was supposed to want? He had never really thought about getting married before. But now, at the mention of it, he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. A wife...a family...love and companionship. It all sounded so…so nice.

*You want to get married, Master?* the shadows asked curioulsy. *To whom?*

*You pick,* he told the shadows. They swarmed out in pure excitment. Azriel couldn’t even remmeebr the last time they had been so excited. 

He couldn't help but chuckle at their reaction. Maybe they would do a better job than him. At least they could probably sieve out females that were in a romantic relationship or preferred females themselves. 

*Find me somebody that I could make happy. Somebody that….Somebody that could want me.* Some long-suffering female for whom Azriel could maybe try to be enough. Somebody that would love him.

*What should she look like?* they asked seriously.

*I don’t care. Find me somebody that loves me and she’ll be the most beautiful female to me anyway.*

[nanamiscocksleeve]

May I request a situation where Kento suddenly turns corrupt in a way that he loses all respect and simply wants to sexually take advantage of fem!reader? Just fucking her rough like a rag doll. Whether it be a curse or aphrodisiac (that can be up to your amazing imagination) But of course, there’s consent and miss reader has a ball with it.

Ohhhh! This is what I needed to break back into writing JJK. But I feel like there's defiinitely some work out there where Kento rough fucks his s/o thanks to a curse or aphrodisiac and I was struggling to write something that felt fresh. This might be a little softer than what was asked because while I'm ok with writing degradation, I think Kento would struggle quite a bit with this.

I hope I've done this justice!

Warnings: MDNI, degradation, derogatory name calling, CNC, objectification, dacryphilia, free use, rough sex, S&M

Use Me

It's a quiet evening as your husband brings you a warm cup of coffee, pressing a kiss to you head as he sits next to you. He stretches and lets out a breath, relishing the peace, and puts an arm around you, drawing you closer for comfort. You sip quietly and appear lost in thought. Ever observant, Kento quirks an eyebrow at you.

"Something on your mind?" To his surprise, your eyes flick up to his over the coffee cup and a blush starts to dust over your cheeks and nose. "What's with that face?" Kento smiles, flattered at the sight and puts a hand on your wrist to lower the coffee cup. Your lips twist into an embarrassed smile and you shake your head, looking away.

"It's nothing I was just thinking about something." You sip and put the mug down on the table. Kento notices the way you hold yourself, the slight tension in your shoulders and the way your eyes look like you want to divulge a secret but were unsure if you should do so. The hand on your wrist slides and he lays his large, warm, hand over yours.

"What is it sweetheart?" He brushes away some stray strands of hair from your face. You bite your lip doubtfully, then decide to spill the beans. "Kento, there's something I want us to...try." You say in a strange tone, like you're still weighing the cons. Kento nods, encouraging you to go on.

"It's...related to sex."

This catches his interest. "Oh?"

"Yeah. It might not be something you're into."

"Try me." He reassuringly pulls you against him, allowing you a grateful moment of privacy as you hide your face in his neck. You clear your throat and continue.

"I want you to take advantage of me. Sexually."

"Am I not already doing that?" Kento jokes but you shake your head, your hair tickling his skin.

"I mean...I want to be used. Objectified. Degraded. Made to feel like I'm just a toy for your entertainment." You pause and he feels you take in a deep breath before continuing. "I basically want you to reduce me to being holes that you use for your pleasure and nothing more."

Kento's heart pounds in his chest as you word your request. "You want me to use you like that?"

"Yeah. And like, I don't want you to be gentle either. I want you to be rough. Like leave bite marks all over me. Don't have sex with me. Fuck me. Roughly. Hard." The blood in his veins grows hot and he pets your hair.

"Are you sure?"

"It's something I always wanted to try. Not that I don't like how it is now. But. I didn't know how to ask." You feel his lips nuzzle your ear and his hands reassuringly stroke your back.

"Sweetheart you know I'm willing to try a lot of things. But I never want to compromise your safety or well-being. I can be rough if you want. But you need to tell me if it's too much. I can't stand the thought of doing something that'll hurt you."

"You won't hurt me. And we have our safe word. I promise to use it." There's a moment of silence as Kento imagines how this would go. You're his favorite person in the whole world, whom he loves and respects. But at the same time, this idea has him incredibly aroused, the thought of using you to his will and forcing you to submit to debauched acts that he's never allowed himself to think about.

He presses another soft kiss to your forehead.

"If it'll make you happy then all right."

--------

You whimper as Kento bites your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, wiping away the blotch with his thumb. He's unrecognizable to you. You've only seen him like before for a specific scenario; when he's hunting down a curse. It sends a skitter of fear through you but also brings forth a strong rush of arousal that makes your cunt clench in need.

"Now remember slut, you're mine to be used. And I'm only letting you rest after I've fucked and filled you to my satisfaction. And if I hear you complaining, know that I have better uses for that mouth. Now on your knees."

You kneel, keeping your eyes trained on the floor, feeling your heart pounding at what was about to happen. Kento roughly yanks your head up by your hair. "Open."

You part your lips then gasp as he shoves his cock without warning, sliding the hard flesh down your throat. You try to relax your muscles, choking in relief as he comes up then repeats the action. You're on the verge of gagging before he gives you reprieve. Saliva drips from your mouth as he gathers your hair and pushes back in, holding you firmly in place until your nose hits his pubes before thursting forcefully, grunting at the slickness of your wet, willing mouth.

You feel your breathless from the effort of keeping him in your mouth, feeling him nearly touching the entrance to your throat, tears streaming from your eyes as you struggle to accomodate all of him. When he finally pulls out you take in a thankful breath of air, spluttering from the freedom.

"Pathetic. Can't even deepthroat cock. What good are you?" His hands wrap around your throat just hard enough to give you that dizzying light-headed feeling as your brain is deprived of air before letting go. He pauses, watching you writhe on the floor to catch your breath. Once it steadies, he commands you.

"Crawl."

Turned on and feeling debased, you get on your hands and knees and start crawling on the floor, your ass jiggling with each movement that you make. You hear footsteps then squeal as Kento's hand slaps the soft flesh. You freeze as the sting ripples through you before Kento jerks your head back by your hair.

"I didn't say to stop crawling. Stupid whore. Who said you can stop just because you felt a little pain?" He brings his hand down repeatedly as you pathetically begin to crawl again, sniffing as you go.

"Crying when you know this all you're good for? Stop acting like you're above this." He leaves your ass smarting, red and pulsing from his abuse. His calloused hands grab your fleshy cheeks and spread them apart and he chuckles darkly. "Don't tell me you're turned on."

You whimper as you feel him insert a finger into your moist hole, probing forcefully before withdrawing. "Just when I thought you could sink no lower. You really are nothing but a basic piece of meat just hoping a cock will fill you and make you feel like you have a purpose."

His finger withdraws and he pulls you up abruptly, his hands harshly squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples aggressively and earning a keening noise from you, your whole body feeling a sensitive blob. He twists and pulls, and you squirm in his grasp, causing him to growl and grip your chin, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Stop acting like you want to escape." He firmly spanks your pussy and your body jolts from the surprise, a cry leaving you. "You crave this. Want this. Because deep down, you know there's nothing more you want than to be a glorified fucktoy. That's all. You're a vessel to hold my cum, if I decide you're worthy enough to receive it."

He pushes one of your breasts up to his mouth and suckles roughly and you can feel the edges of his teeth skimming along the sensitive peaks. Kento releases it and does the same for the other, and just when your senses start to calm down, he sinks his teeth into the nipple, just hard enough for you make a noise of pain. He smirks.

"Oh. So you do have a limit." He bites the other nipple with similar force and you let out a broken sob. "Tsk. You're not very good at being a fucktoy are you?"

He shoves you to the bed and you fall on the soft mattress. You hear the clink of chains and see him securing handcuffs around your ankles before securing the free ends to the bedposts, angling your legs so that they're spread apart wide. Your wet pussy is exposed to his feral eyes and he licks his lips at the sight of the glistening membranes. He flicks your clit cruelly, enjoying the way you twitch and struggle.

"Oh you're dumb aren't you? Haven't you learned what happens when you try to avoid me?" He spanks your clit again, and your eyes roll back into your head as you try to separate the confusing blur of pain and pleasure that shoots through you body.

"Why is it that the more pain I give you, the wetter your dumb whore cunt gets?" The resounding echo of his palm on your wet folds gets louder with each slap until your clit is swollen and red from the repeated blows.

"Look at that. You actually want more after all that." Before you can process what's happening, Kento shifts on the bed and plunges his hard cock into your pussy. The stretch makes you sob because you weren't quite ready for him, the push slightly painful, but as you adjust to him, the feeling fades. His movements are harsh and selfish, swiftly bottoming out each time and hitting your cervix, setting a brutal pace that has you feeling like you might black out.

You let out a shocked squeak as his thumb starts to manhandle your clit, brushing over it in savage strokes that bring you dangerously close to the edge. Strings of incoherent noises spill from your lips, sounding more and more animalistic as your brain turns off all rational thought and begins to fill with need. You just wanted to orgasm, then have the satisfaction of Kento's seed filling your wet channel, to feel him soften inside you before the next round....

You let a quivering wail as your orgasm hits and Kento huffs in satisfaction as he feels your walls clenching him as you cum. Your feet thrash against their restraints as the ripple of orgasmic pleasure rocks your body. "You can't help it can you? Being a cumslut?"

His hips start to pick up pace and slam into you as he chases his orgasm, his breathing becoming ragged, hands digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises as he uses your hole to satisfy the raging, primal need that's fuelling his actions. His movements become sloppy and the edges of his vision start to blur.

"Here it comes. Your reward. Try not to spend it all in once place." With a final thrust, thick ropes of cum start to fill your insides and he shudders with the satisfaction. A moment passes before he pulls out of you, leaking his seed as he withdraws. You lay spent and exhausted on the bed.

Kento finally breaks character and crouches over you. "You didn't use your safe word."

"I didn't need to."

[joelsdagger]

i posted all my thoughts chapter by chapter over on @joelsdaggersarchive but i just have to reblog on main because this was so gorgeous, so sweet, and so so soft. and selfishly i need it for safekeeping on my main.

the emotional rollercoaster i went on while reading this was…. it was A LOT mainly because it hit home but my goodness vee you are so fucking talented it amazes me. you always amaze me but this was just so gorgeous. how you write emotion is so special to me and so real, i felt everything she was feeling to the bone. emotion isn’t easy to convey in writing but you did it so effortlessly, it’s breathtaking. the smut was….holy fuck. not even just the smut….the foreplay and everything leading up to it, (the religious imagery!!!!!!!!! my fucking god it took my breath away i am in awe, my love) the dirty talk, how joel is so soft with her and they want each other so badly but he makes her wait even though it physically pains him to hold off ugh it’s SO PERFECT. i loved her relationship with her sisters. by their own unique personalities i could tell you took the time and care to make them whole, into their own standalone characters that added more heart to the story. i already said this but the ending was perfect for joel and little dove, i love that she gained control of her situation and went to have a proper and much needed (although hard) discussion with her father (which coming from experience, i can imagine was not fucking easy and is so emotionally frustrating and taxing). and i love that joel supported her the whole way. it took me so long to get to this but i’m so glad i waited til i could properly appreciate this ART. every line is tucked away into the cold, tiny chambers of my too small, withering heart. i love them and i love you my beloved. thank you for this and thank you for constantly blessing us with your glorious writing. it’s such a pleasure to get to experience this and i’m excited to see and read what you do next!

fall into temptation l masterlist

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) RELIGION, RELIGIOUS THEMES. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). reader has a father, reader has two older sisters. READER HAS A COUPLE OF PHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONS such as her hair, which she is able to braid as well as her style of clothing she wears. please see individual chapters for full warnings and tags.

part one

part two

part three

[yanderefarm]

I want to spread a rumor about Emil cheating, make sure nobody knows it was me, then act all mad at him and punish him for it

Also ygs better square up Cherros anon and Jerry anon

-🐕‍🦺

ive been craving to hurt emil. rofan villain reader my beloved, a cute husband to bully and all his money 🥰

cw;; abuse, cheating, non-con (implied), gaslighting, angst

the nobles always talk, talk, talk. it's not odd for them to spread meaningless gossip. it's odd when unsubstantiated gossip makes it into the most popular newspaper in the capital and becomes the headline on everyone's lips. that took your whole allowance at the information guild but it was worth it to see your husband's face now.

the pictures were the best touch, you really should thank the guild master later. undeniable evidence of emil being intimate with one of his maids was sitting in front of him on the desk. his advisor was cautiously scolding him for ruining his reputation that he had just started to build up. the image of loving husband dashed in an instant. he started to raise his voice his hand pounding on the table in anger. that was your cue.

you threw the door of the office open with force.

"emil! are you going to explain yourself? why are all my maids talking about you ch-"

your eyes caught the images, you hadn't actually seen them yet. god they were good, they made you actually feel a bit sick to see. perfect.

".... what is that?"

you watch his face drop as all his anger melts into panic. poor bastard tries to cover up the images.

"this doesn't concern you."

"... you're fucking one of your maids?"

the accusation burns his heart and he feels like he's going to be sick. he tries to cover the images more.

"this doesn't-" thwack!

you slap him across the face as hard as you can, your wedding ring leaving an imprint on his cheek.

"everyone get out. i need to speak to my husband privately."

his servants and advisors scurried out of there, afraid of the situation about to play out, only your right hand maid stayed. she closed the behind the last person to leave, locking it for you. you let out a heavy sigh as you leaned against his desk, your hand rubbing your temples. emil didn't look up, his eyes wide but you could see there was fear in them even with his head hung.

you picked up one of the pictures, one where the maid was clearly caught in the middle of having sex with him. you'd been out of the capital a few weeks ago for an event in your home kingdom. really it was just an excuse to let the guild master do what he needed. he really exceeded your expectations. it was hard not to smile.

"i don't remember doing that, please believe me."

"oh?" you set the picture down and shot him a glare. "just because you don't remember fucking her i should forgive you? what about kissing her? what about pushing her against the window behind you?"

"i-"

he watched helplessly as you picked up one of the pictures, your hand shaking. oh, when you got your hands on the royal treasury you were going to drown the guild master in gold. you had told him about emil's hatred for letting you leave the palace grounds, how emil wouldn't even take you to the cafe you so desperately wanted to go to. and here was a picture of him in the same cafe with the maid.

"what is this?"

"i-i don't know."

you forced your face to scrunch up in anger despite how excited you were. you were going to enjoy this too much. you turned to your maid who was still standing by the door.

"do you have my riding crop?"

"yes, your highness." she presented it to you and you handed her the picture of him at the cafe in exchange.

"what would you do if you were in my position?"

"i would ask for a divorce, your highness."

"no-"

emil's poor voice cracked but all he got was another glare.

"then I suppose I'm being merciful, right?"

"you are far too kind to that cheating filth, your highness."

you walked over to stand beside emil who already looked so broken and frightened. you ran your riding crop up his cheek.

"take your shirt off. unless you would rather the divorce?"

emil's body slipped to the ground as his knees gave out underneath him. tears started to stream from his eyes like the dam had finally broken.

"please, dont leave me, please, please."

you nudged him with the riding crop.

"shirt. off."

his hands were shaking as he started to unbutton his shirt.

[jiveyuncle]

My love letter to a fic that stole my heart!

Some choppy moments from a scene that had me grinning ear to ear the whole way though! I absolutely loved every moment of this story and highly recommend it 💕💕

My Soul Has Your Claim, My Soul Is In Flames by @queen-of-voltronian

Summary:

Does anyone know Lance is in love with Keith? Of course not. And Lance would very much like to keep it that way, thank you! Keith already doesn't want anything to do with him ever since coming back from that space whale; the last thing Lance needs on top of his crumbling self-worth and shaky standing in the team is a rejection that shatters his heart in pieces, too. But now, Lance got himself in a bit of a pickle. Which is fine, because Lance has a plan to get out of it! A wonderful, brilliant, masterful, completely fool-proof plan. His team won't look at him like he's more incompetent than they already do, he won't have to spend the rest of his life trapped on some alien planet, and Keith will never find out just how head over heels he is for him. It's a win-win-win situation. Of course, with Keith, things are never quite so simple, and Lance's plan soon causes a domino effect that changes the entire course of his life.   Or:   Maybe Lance should have been a little more specific when he said he'd do anything to get home. Because now... "You must bestow a kiss on the one your soul most desires." ...Fuck.

[signanothername]

What do u think of the trope where Blue/Swap joins the bad guy???

I have complicated feelings about it?

I love the trope in of itself, I think it would be a really interesting trope to explore

The problem tho? I never once saw it executed in a way that grabbed my attention or made me actually love the story it was used in

It immediately goes to the “asshole” Dream and Ink and “kind found family” Nightmare gang trope

Which again, if you don’t know, I hate the trope of Dream being somehow an asshole or somehow treating Swap as tho he’s less than him

Ink is a whole different story where the fandom simply villainize him just cause he’s soulless

And the kind found family Nightmare gang is a trope I love, but just like the trope of Blue joining the Nightmare gang, it’s poorly executed most of the time (and I mean, how can you call it a “Blue joins the bad guys” when the “bad guys” are shown to be good guys????)

Like, I opened so many different fics only to be hit with the same execution of this trope over and over, eventually just losing interest bxhxhdhdh

The idea of Swap not being able to “keep up” with Ink and Dream or is somehow neglecting himself to take care of Dream just doesn’t really intrigue me (or even make sense to me)

Like don’t get me me wrong, I’m an absolute sucker for the “Swap is literally the only anchor Dream has left in his life otherwise he’d fucking break down” but I dare say Swap is more than capable of handling it without it weighing him down to a significant degree

This is Swap for god’s sake, he’s literally Papyrus’ personality but in a Sans body, if anything, he’s the one who has his shit together the most and is able to go on with a genuine happy and determined smile on his face, no matter the shit that happens to him, it would make a lot more sense for Dream to be the one to try and catch up with Swap than the other way around

I get that the trope tries to show the limitations of Swap as a mortal compared to Dream and Ink who are both pretty much immortal, but what people tend to do is that they completely twist Swap to be absolutely pathetic just for this trope to work

Which *shakes the fandom* I promise you don’t have to completely change a character up to make a trope work

Like I saw stories that made Blue to be somehow a weak depressed anxious guy trying so hard and is failing and whatnot and I question myself whether that’s even Swap anymore hchcchcjvj

I think the problem I usually see when people try and write different tropes for different characters, is that they try to make the trope make sense, and so they twist the character around to fit around the trope

Which, imho, is ineffective, you should understand the character, and then think of how the character would deal with a certain situation and how that leads to the trope you’re trying to write, one step at a time without having to ignore/erase important personality traits of the character

Of course, that doesn’t mean the trope you’re trying to write can’t fundamentally change the perception, personality, or behavior of a character, but you have to show how it affects the character to such a fundamental degree, show how can the character be heavily influenced and affected in a way that makes sense for said character

For example, I’ve seen people write Swap neglecting to eat cause he’s trying to “keep up” or sometimes Dream and Ink don’t give him the chance to cause they pressure him to go on another mission or push him too hard

Here are some problems I see with this:

- why is the Nightmare gang even somehow attacking every single day? Have they got nothing better to do? Especially with the fact they’re a found family now?

- why is Dream and Ink going out for “missions” every day if the Nightmares aren’t attacking, like damn what are they even doing?? What are these “important missions”?? Since when was Ink so obsessed with “missions”?

- Swap would absolutely not let that shit stand, if anything, he’d be very vocal about it and tell Dream and Ink to sit down and eat his great delicious tacos (Swap’s voice always has power behind it, and his actions are a direct reflection of his beliefs not what others push him to do)

- Ink has a home in the doodlesphere, he wouldn’t even be around enough to push Blue, while Swap has an AU and a brother, there is pretty much no way he’d be with Dream and Ink 24/7, and if he was somehow, you think Swap Paps would let it slide? And even if we go with the idea of Swap not being part of an AU anymore, you think Swap himself would neglect himself just to please others even when it doesn’t align with his own beliefs?

And those are only few of the top of my head, I’m pretty sure if I sat down and thought about this for a few hours, I’d be able to write you a whole other set of problems

Not saying you can never write Swap neglecting to eat, you absolutely can, it’s just needs to make sense for Swap as a character, what would it take for Swap to start neglecting his health? It’s not others pressuring him or pushing him I can tell you that much

So yeah, good trope, not so good execution (for me at least)

I guess I’m way too focused on the logic of it to truly enjoy it for what it is, but then again I always love to complicate things way more than I need to

Not every trope or story has to make sense completely, but I guess seeing Swap be completely made into a pathetic mess with no actual grounds to support it beyond “he’s mortal and his friends aren’t“ just ruins it for me dhdhhdhd

[sporesgalaxy]

Hi I have a thesis about Zoro's feelings on Sanji's actions in Thriller Bark and Whole Cake and The Death Pact but I haven't known how to pitch it. So here's a stupid image and a short bit of writing.

----

The cook crumples at Zoro's feet with predictable rage burning in his eyes. Zoro can't find it in his heart to feel bad for hitting him.

Zoro didn't respond to the cook's cursing as he fell because there was nothing to say. The situation is obvious.

Zoro is taking a calculated risk.

The cook had been planning a suicide.

---

A couple of years later, it takes Zoro a moment to realize that the shit cook is fucking doing it again.

After he realizes, Zoro is furious he gave the bastard so much benefit of the doubt.

Zoro took the cook's little note at face value at first, because he thought the cook knew what he was doing. Zoro thought, by now, the cook must have understood--

Whatever. Some fucking sacrifice this will be if it ends up getting their whole crew killed. All because the love-cook can't get anything through his thick skull. Not even when Zoro uses concussive force...

Zoro sighs, trying in vain to release some of his frustration.

...If the cook dies for a dumbshit reason like this, Zoro is gonna fucking kill him.

---

"If I'm not myself...you have to kill me," the snail repeats in Curly's stupid voice.

Zoro grits his teeth tighter.

Seriously?

Now?

Whatever.

Fine!

At least this way, the shit-cook won't get to die until Zoro can be there to call him a fucking idiot for trying!

"Something to look forward to," Zoro calls it, just to be annoying.

[chaifootsteps]

OMG the scene where Charlie baby talked to Baxter irked me SO bad! Like what are you doing?!? Youre a grown ass adult talking to another grown ass adult, you dont talk to people you just met like that EVER!

Like what was the point of the scene?? To be funny? Cause it isnt, there is no joke, punchline, nothing, its just Charlie being rude to a random stranger that she just met.

Was it to make Charlie look like an "adorkable kawaii potato that LOVES cute little things :3"? Then someone tell Vivziepop that it isnt 2014 anymore and nobody likes these characters, epecially when theyre ADULTS, theyre just really fucking annoying.

This is why i hate the Show's Charlie, they try to sell her as if she is oh-so-nice and the most kind person in the world that CARES about others issue's when she is actually a priviliged bitch that thinks she has the solution to every problem in the world when she doesnt understand shit about other's people's situation nor cares enough to listen to them.

She reminds me to these internet e-celebrities that build their whole image on being wholesome and sweet but then when theyre asked to talk about some societal problem they decilne because "sowy i dont want to bring politics to my channel :3 xoxo".

It would have been interesting if she was written this way on PURPORSE. Like at first her being a naive, rich, priviliged princess that never faced any real problems and thats why she is sure that she can easily solve other's problems by doing what she says, and as the show progresses she starts learning to LISTEN to other's explaining their situation and why the solutions arent as simple as what she was made to belive growing up privileged.

But since Vivziepop lacks any self awareness the show tries to convice us that her ways are the correct ones, and that everyone should do as she says in order to fix everything and that her acting like an ignorant asshole to thers its ok because its "cute :3".

Maybe im just exagerating because im a short person with a baby face who got treated a similar way Charlie talked to Baxter by other adults, and i dont think i need to clarify you should definetely NOT do that to other people like that, like how do people not realize its rude as shit.

Its embarassing how upset i got at this, i hope this show gets cancelled as soon as posible.

Yeah, that was pretty vile. It was that unbearable scene where she forced them to play rhyme-and-clap games all over again, and that other unbearable scene where her idea of redeeming them was putting them in stupid outfits and having them read from scripts.

I hate series Charlie so much.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Hey so to anyone whose ever wondered why I like Jaune I could probably give a good amount of reasons.

From his knight aesthetic, to him not being a Gary Stu, but a very flawed, believable character whose trying to improve himself. Hell I LOVE that he is a reference to Joan of Arc.

That he's not classically played masculine, but also isn't portrayed effeminate or flamboyant to oppose it either. I like that Jaune feels like someone who at a glance could be from a earth.

He feels like he was a Civilian, and you know what, I also have a weakness for blue eyed blondes... Maybe that's why I Love the idea of there being a whole family of them.

Heck conceptionally Jaune has a lot in common with the stereotypical Shonen protagonist... But then again so does Ruby and Yang. And Blake fit the more edgy manga Protags...

But if I had to name one thing I like about Jaune, even more then his determination/ Willpower (Stubbornness when it's misdirected like it was in Jaunedice)

I think what I like most is, well... That Jaune is arguably the bravest character in RWBY (Oscar could be argued to be that too though)

Let me explain, so... Everyone else in Beacon is different then Jaune mentally. And the reason is simple. a combination of their aura and training...

All the main cast besides Jaune were overpowered teenagers with strength like Captain America. And there in lies the reason.

They don't view things the same way Jaune does, in the Red Trailer, we literally see Ruby tear apart a horde of Beowulves in minutes on the way to visit her mother's grave. Which implies she does this regularly on said trek.

Now for those watching we gain the same mentality and understanding as the girls of RWBY. Beowulves aren't that strong, their mobs... Weak, easy to beat and need big numbers to be even a bit challenging.

But if you simply look at them, compare them to Ruby... Every Beowulve is a freaking WEREWOLF!!!

That is fucking terrifying, take away the aura and that is a brickshitting situation Ruby is in. But to her it's really not, because she has spent her whole life killing these things to the point where she can do so effortlessly.

Hell we see this again in Yang when she literally doesn't just enter a fight with a gang of known armed criminals but starts it! Literally grabbing the kingpin by the balls.

Which, why wouldn't she, she punches fucking armored Grizzly bears to death. And so everyone one of JNPR and RWBY outside of Jaune look at Grimm and Criminals in the sense of...

Oh neat, a bad guy, let's kill/ beat them up...

When their being fired at their not thinking they could get shot, NO! Their thinking it's okay to get shot a few times cuz they have aura that'll protect them.

And that's why Jaune is so brave, he went to Beacon as a civilian, unaware of aura. Now stop and think about how far behind Jaune was actually in his own mind.

Because remember, he didn't know about aura, the stuff that lets everyone else be so OP. Jaune fought a Ursa Major and killed it without prior training and wasn't using aura techniques, he had enough physical prowess and strength to cleave through it in a single shot...

A literal Marine couldn't do that... But Jaune did, if it were a world without aura, Jaune would've easily been one of the physically strongest people. But because aura existed, people who were trained their entire lives with it are worlds apart above him.

But my point is this, everyone else isn't so much brave as confident and in Yang and Weiss's cases moreso arrogant. Ruby looked at a Goliath while she was in Mt. Glenn and her first thought was to go and kill it... That thing was a fucking Kaiju. And she wasn't scared of it, oh no she was excited to kill it!

Initiation was literally fun for Yang, she had a blast during it, Nora too, Blake wasn't concerned and until she was forced to ride a Nevermore Weiss was so at ease that she was willing to strike out on her own instead of teaming up with someone else, not once but twice.

But Jaune is different, to him, a Beowulf is a monster that can kill him in a single strike...A Ursa is a beast that could kill the strongest men... A single attack could end you life...

And yet he was still willing to take initiation, there was no second chances, or magic barrier to protect him, hell he didn't even have a gun.

Dude was gonna fight bears and Werewolfs with a sword and shield. In his mind a single blow would kill him, this wasn't fun, this wasn't exciting or something to be taken lightly.

It was a life or death struggle, and just because Pyrrha gave him aura doesn't mean that mentality magically goes away. No to Jaune Grimm still are threat, it why he shows nervousness when fighting them unlike everyone else.

But he still does... everyone else fights Grimm like it's a game or chore. But to Jaune he is actually fighting for his life, these things scare him, fighting scares him, and mentally he is still very much leaning more towards civilian.

But it's because of that that when he fights he is being braver then all the others. Not to say their cowards though.

I think ultimately that's why I like Jaune most, because I never stop realizing that he is fighting in a darksouls game while everyone else feels like their in DMC.

But despite that he doesn't hesitate to fight beside them, to try and help and is willingly putting his life on the line when everyone else is just having a easy run of it.

And I'd argue this is why Ozpin made him leader.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

A Simple Kidnapping

Hello Hello I love your fanfictions and I would like to ask you if you could do a fan fiction about Virgel fighting with everyone and before it's got result he got kidnapped. I just love Virgil he's my baby - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: kidnapping

Pairings: none

Word Count: 2610

Fights in the Mindscape can be...bad. Bad enough that certain Sides take refuge in the Imagination afterwards. Virgil, however, is not one of the Sides that can shape the Imagination as effectively, and as such blunders into quite the troublesome situation.

"Let's get this burlap off you, must be quite itchy, no?"

Hands tug at the burlap sack over his head, carefully lifting it off. He blinks at the sudden brightness of candlelight as it rustles away. Another blink and a face looms in front of him. His eyes take a moment to adjust.

"Huh," the pirate captain says, tilting their head to the side, "you've got quite a nice face under there."

Virgil swallows, opening his mouth to speak when the captain raises their hand.

"Hush, hush, hush, come now," they say, petting him almost like a dog, "you don't want to make a racket, now, do you? You'll wake up the whole crew and believe me, you don't want that."

No. No, he didn't.

"There, see? That's much better. Now, all you need to do is stay quiet, alright?" They take a seat on the edge of their desk. "Otherwise, I'd have to gag you and that wouldn't be very nice. Get stains all over my nice fabric, nobody wants that."

Wisely, Virgil keeps his mouth shut. The captain smiles.

"There you go. I knew you were one of the smart ones. Unfortunately—" they stand to grab…a length of rope?— "I do refuse to extend the same courtesy to your limbs as I do to your tongue. You're one of the sneaky ones, aren't you?"

They begin to wrap the rope around Virgil's arms and legs. He stifles a sharp inhale. This is fine. This is…fine.

"The moment I take my eyes off you, you'll be gone in a blink, so…" They tie a knot and tug on it lightly. "Not too tight?"

He's shaking his head before he realizes it.

"Good."

Virgil glances around the room. It's a—is he on a ship, still? It looks like a cabin—but he's still in dock, aren't they? The ship was preparing to leave when he—

Oh, fuck, Princey's gonna kill me.

Something catches the candlelight and his eyes fix on the very sharp blade tucked into the captain's belt.

"Now, then." The captain settles back against the desk. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing sneaking onto my ship?"

Virgil's eyes narrow and he clenches his jaw. Playing along with the Imagination's characters when he has the safety of Roman or Remus is one thing, but neither of them are here right now and this…feels a little too much like one of Remus's plots for him to risk mouthing off.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, why did I have to run away?

"I know I said I'd gag you if you made too much noise, but I do expect you to talk." When Virgil still says nothing, the captain sighs. "Am I supposed to guess, then?"

They push slightly off the desk, walking a slow circle around the chair.

"You're young," they say quietly, as they settle back against it, "but you've been made to look older. You've not done it yourself, though. Someone's made you look older."

Virgil says nothing.

"You're stubborn, aren't you?" The captain reaches for his hands, brushing fingertips along his. "No calluses, your hands are soft, unworked…"

Their eyes flick up to catch Virgil's.

"Are you running from, or running to?"

With the captain's hand in his, there is no way to disguise the flinching twitch of his fingers.

"From, then." The captain lets him go, folding their arms. "What would someone like you have to run from?"

Words rise to the tip of his tongue and he swallows them back just in time, his lips curling into a snarl. It sounds too close to Janus scoffing that he was being paranoid again, Patton saying he was making a big deal out of nothing, kiddo. The captain quirks an eyebrow.

"Mm, sore spot, is it?" They lean down, hands on Virgil's knees, until they're almost nose to nose with him. "You've grown up sheltered. A life of safety, never having to work for what you want. What on earth could happen to make someone like you want to run?"

"You're not exactly being fair to the rest of us, Virgil. We've got things to worry about too, you can't monopolize being the only one worried about things."

"Yeah, it's not like you're the only one who goes through this. You have to let us be upset too."

A hand flashes up too quick, no—

The captain pauses. Virgil bites back a curse at how obviously he just flinched as the hand nears his face. Slowly, very slowly, the hand tips his head to the side. A finger presses lightly over the still-throbbing wound at his temple, just barely closed over.

"I didn't do that," the captain mutters, almost too quiet to hear, before the finger moves to tilt his chin back up. Virgil refuses to meet their gaze. They let out a sigh, their voice softening just the slightest amount. "You've gotten yourself into quite the mess, haven't you, little stowaway?"

"What're you going to do with me?"

"It speaks," they murmur, "where did you come from?"

Virgil snaps his head up to glare at them. The captain raises their hands in surrender and moves back to lean against the desk again.

"Feisty little stowaway, aren't you?" They shrug. "So where will you go, then? You're not going much of anywhere right now."

They indicate the ropes.

"What was your plan, little stowaway? It can't have been to get caught so easily."

No. No, it had not. And for a moment, Virgil's mind fills with the possibilities of what could happen, of what happens to unsuspecting and foolish people in these types of stories who wander too far into the docks and stumble into the path of the wrong ship. Of horror stories and missing victims and waves that churn a little too easily for it to just be fish.

Then he remembers that this is the Imagination, and if anything actually bad were to happen to him, the twins would know about it instantly.

Then he remembers he's been kidnapped and there's been absolutely no sign of them.

The captain's been watching him with an inscrutable expression. Virgil tenses, taking stock of his body. No other injuries past what he already knew about, the rope's pretty sturdy but there's a good chance the chair isn't. That dagger looks really sharp.

"Oh, little stowaway," the captain sighs after a moment, "what will we do with you?"

His eyes don't leave the dagger.

The captain sighs again, before carefully removing the dagger from their belt and placing it on the other side of the desk.

…wait, what?

"I'm not going to hurt you," the captain says softly, "look, see? The sharp thing is over there now."

You don't need a sharp thing to hurt someone.

"Hey."

The captain is closer now. When did that happen? Their eyes scan his expression. The wrinkle of their brows seems sincere, as does the curve of their frown.

"I'm not going to hurt you," they say again as their eyes meet, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Virgil's arms flex in the ropes.

"If I untie you, will you try to run?" Virgil doesn't reply. "That's a yes, then. How about this: you stay here, in the chair, as you've been doing so nicely for me, and I'll let your legs go, okay?"

…better than nothing.

"Good. Hold still, alright?"

A very strong part of Virgil is tempted to kick the captain in the head as hard as he can, but that's not the smart option. He needs to be smart now.

"Very good," the captain murmurs as he pulls away, discarding the rope and standing up. "When's the last time you ate?"

Virgil blinks.

"Come on," the captain coaxes, suddenly much more patiently, "it can't have been easy getting here. You must be hungry, aren't you?"

Before he can decide how he wants to answer, his traitor of a stomach answers for him. The captain chuckles, walking over to a drawer and opening it, returning with a roll of bread in their hands.

"Don't be stubborn," they say, still speaking softly, softly, always softly now, as they hold the roll up to his mouth. "It's just bread. Good bread, but just bread."

Virgil warily opens his mouth to take a bite. The captain doesn't move, letting him tear off a piece of the bread.

…of course it has to taste good. Of course it does.

"Easy," comes the low voice as he tries to wolf down the bread in earnest, "I'm not going to take it away from you. You can slow down, don't make yourself sick."

He does manage to slow down, just a little bit. The captain doesn't say anything, just holds the roll still until he can figure out how to rip off the next bite. They place the last bite delicately into his mouth and smile.

"Better?" He nods begrudgingly. "Good. Are you thirsty?"

"Why are you doing this?"

To their credit, the captain only pauses. "Doing what?"

"This." He gestures as best he can. "Food. Drink. Not killing me."

"You make it sounds as if you're complaining."

Shit.

"Hush," they say, softer again, a slight bit of amusement in their voice as they continue to fuss with a bottle, "it's alright, I'm not angry."

"…that's not answer," Virgil prods warily.

"Believe me, I am not thrilled about using up precious rations," they say as they turn back, "but I would be less thrilled if you were to faint from undernourishment or dehydration. I'd be liable to handle your catatonic form and I don't think either of us wants that again."

Virgil's hands twitch slightly as the captain leans against the desk, the bottle finally in the light enough for him to properly identify it as a tankard of…something.

"And, as I said, I'm not going to hurt you."

"What's in that, then?"

"Ale." They take a sip themselves to prove it. "See?"

A hand cups his head and raises the tankard to his lips. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and drinks. The taste is…unfamiliar, but not altogether unpleasant. They keep it there until Virgil pulls away slightly, setting it on the desk.

"Now," they continue, "I may not be one of the captains in that precious upper circle, but I know my way around these parts well enough to recognize someone of the Prince's ilk when I see them."

Virgil tenses. The captain rolls their eyes—fondly? No, surely not—and taps his ankle with the toe of their boot.

"Don't look so frightened, little stowaway, I'm not exactly about to hold you for ransom, I'm not looking to have my ship slashed to timbers. I only mean that you're not exactly inconspicuous here."

"So?"

"So, if you're going to get caught sneaking around, you might want to know that not everyone has as discerning an eye as I do, and some of those pretty trinkets around your neck would have other captains ready to slit it over them."

"If you're aiming for comforting, you're really fucking missing."

The captain lets out a surprised bark of laughter. "Feisty! Where was this earlier? Is a roll of bread and a sip of ale all it takes to reignite that spark in you? I'm not in the habit of comforting stowaways, but I am quite practiced in telling people when they've been remarkably foolish."

Virgil glares at them and they shake their head, still chuckling.

"You're about as intimidating as a kitten, little stowaway, you can save your glares."

"What the hell do you want?"

"You're a fascinating creature," they say, "and I'd hate to see something truly awful happen to you. And I must admit, I am curious as to what could have happened to drive you so far away from the safety of the inland villages."

He bites his tongue. He's not going to spill his guts. He's not. The Imagination may be a great many things, but good at keeping things from Roman and Remus, it isn't. The captain doesn't say anything else for a long moment, before their boot nudges Virgil's ankle again.

"Where did that nasty head wound come from?"

"I don't know."

"Don't lie to me, little stowaway."

"I don't know," he repeats, gritting his teeth slightly. "I was running—I don't—I only remember getting to the docks, okay? Then I woke up here."

He raises his head.

"Why do you care?"

"That's not the first time you've asked a question like that. Fishing for a certain answer, are we?" They tilt their head. "Or is the idea that someone cares even a little bit for you so foreign?"

What is it with the Imagination and making weirdly perceptive and insightful characters? Virgil squirms a little under the captain's gaze, which is probably enough of an answer in and of itself. Sure enough, the captain sighs.

"You're a bigger fool than I thought."

"What?"

"If you believe the Prince doesn't care for you, you're a bigger fool than I thought."

He can't stop the mirthless laughter that barks out of his mouth. "What the hell would you know about that?"

The captain opens their mouth to answer when a chorus of shouts and clanging steel comes from outside. They reach forward and undo the bindings on Virgil's wrists, giving him a look just as the door bursts open.

"He's unharmed, mostly," they say as Virgil turns around to see—Roman, standing there, Remus looming threateningly over his shoulder— "there's a head wound we can't account for."

"Virgil? Are you okay?"

"You…you came?"

The captain huffs quietly as Remus growls, Roman putting a hand on his shoulder with such an earnest expression that Virgil's chest starts to ache. "Of course we did, Virgil. We've been looking everywhere for you."

"Did this bitch hurt you?"

"What? No—no—we just talked. They didn't do anything."

The captain looks remarkably calm for someone with Remus's morningstar a little too close to their neck, but Remus only growls threateningly again before scooping Virgil into his arms and marching out of the cabin. The captain makes eye contact with him one last time, gives a small wave, and mouths don't be a fool before the Imagination bends and twists around them—

"I'm so sorry," Roman says as soon as they're back in the more familiar parts of the castle, "I should've—I didn't mean for that to get so out of hand, I'm sorry—"

"Me too," Virgil mumbles, "I didn't…I shouldn't have run."

"Oh, god, Virgil, no, that's not your fault. That isn't your fault at all, I swear."

"Did someone hurt you?" Remus's fingers are gentle as he examines the wound. "What happened?"

"I don't know, I don't remember."

"We're gonna have Lolo look at you anyway. Oh, shit, little spider, I'm so fucking sorry—we didn't mean to gang up on you, it wasn't meant to be like that."

"…yeah." Suddenly, the rush of the argument followed by the oh-shit-I-was-just-kidnapped catches up with him and he all but falls into Roman's arms. "Oh, shit."

"Hey, hey, come here, shadow-ling, we've got you, you're safe now. Come one, let's—let's go get you patched up and then to movie night, okay? You're okay, you're gonna be okay."

As he's shepherded out of the Imagination, he can't help glancing over his shoulder one last time. Perhaps he'll have to track down that captain again once all of this is over.

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[katiemcgrathhh]

So after watching Agatha all along and just rewatching. Can we just talk about how much Rio LOVEDDD Agatha.

Like not even taking into account that she gave Nicky 6 years to live when he shouldn’t have even lived?? Or when he said “my mother needs me” not mama which he called Agatha. Or the fact that she basically just took the chance to destroy the imbalance of the universe just for her wife, my love, her m‘lady what ever you want to call them. Ex wives, ex-toxic lover (which is a whole different story) her savior ?!? If you read ff it’s a conclusion. To let her keep their son for as long as she could allow before taking him. The fact that she let Nicky say goodbye we all know HE KNEW it was his time and he was ready because he just knew his mother would take care of him.

Fast forward to the cat and mouse game they played, the hiding behind the darkhold, to the being stuck in the hex. In the first episode of Rio and Agatha meeting. You can just clearly see the way Rio is 1. Playing the role she has to for “Agnes” and 2. The way she responded to everything Agnes said. They way she clenched her jaw, her hands, her stuttered blinks. She knows this isn’t her Agatha but she loves her enough to play into it when even tho it’ll hurt her in the long run. She stayed off topics she KNEW weren’t approachable to save her love the confusion.

And when she got on the road. She tried to keep Agatha from another heartbreak. Agatha not letting her get close to rio and not wanting to leave behind that grief or even talking about it as a family. To her playing it off to the cons that Agatha pulled so Rio would have her bodies.

Rio saying she had the emotional scar because she had to take Nicky from them and she’s hurt the only person she ever allowed herself to love. Agatha.

She talked back to Evanora Harkness not just cause she hates ghost but just because it’s her wifes mother who hated her child.. Someone who treated her poorly. Rio wouldn’t stand for it. Their has to be history behind that.

To the betrayal of Agatha hiding Billy because to Agatha it was another Nicky situation even if she knew who he was. To Rio being betrayed because Agatha was purposely hiding him like she tried to do Nicky with all the witches Agatha killed back then. The fact that Agatha didn’t trust her. Or the fact that Rio knew that once again it was her purpose as death to do what she had to do and Agatha wouldn’t understand. No matter how many times she could say it.

The fact that when it all came around when Rio was screaming “why don’t you want me” because no matter what she did for Agatha. Agatha was driven by grief for their child. Their Nicky. It was way ultimately (I think) Agatha finally realized in that moment when teen said “is this what you did to Nicky” and she reached up for her necklace to to finally come to terms to realize it wasn’t Rio that took him on purpose. It wasn’t rios choice, it was just his time. His death. And who is death? Rio, his mother. Someone who also losses someone

Which led us to the kiss of death. Literally. But the fact that Rio loved Agatha so much and when she realized what it was she still gave all her love that she had for Agatha into that kiss. She wouldn’t let her wife go without letting her know how much she loved her and probably how much she’ll always love her. Heart fucking breaking.

[allo0verv1]

I literally love hunter.

okay listen. hollow mind changed so much in perspective for me, which was already shifting like crazy. let's talk about the fact that hunter was abused, used as a child soldier, just another replacement, always made to FIGHT for his "uncle's" affection, saw him when belos erupted into his crazy palismen trapped form. everyone thought his life was great because he was the emperor's right hand man. he was still a fucking kid. you know what cuts deep? the fact that, if you remove the hyperbole (?) in this whole situation, it's realistic. people go through familial abuse, go through unrealistic expectations, know it's toxic but try to change their minds into thinking that it's love expecting them to do so much. dana and the crew did a wonderful job depicting so much in just one character. hunter, isn't just some annoying prick who's going to listen to everything told to him. that's all that he believed he had till he met luz and was ABLE to question his entire fucking life, everything he was taught and that's why hollow mind needed to happen.

I got literal chills during his panic attack but it was absolutely warranted given his life, every lie he was fed, the immense fear of that man he used to call his uncle just grew, he didn't know what to believe and that's heartbreaking. though it was absolutely a part of beginning his healing, I felt it to my absolute core and I wouldn't want it any other way.

message received.

I love hunter.

[touchbased]

"yeah, well. i think we both know i'm never not gonna let you in. no matter how fucked our situation is." just go ahead and add that to their grocery list of problems. exes aren't supposed to want to interact post breakup, much less invite them to crash on their couch, and yet here emma is. still inclined to take care of the guy that broke her heart. it'd be easier to hate him, obviously, and if she could find a way to stop worrying about where he rests his head at night, her life would probably be a whole lot easier. but noah is part of her, intrinsically, even after all this time, and he's proving to still be a hard habit to kick. "i mean, jesus, dude. i would have covered your rent and let you live here for free. you know that, right?" it's clearly neither the time nor place to admit such a thing — to call him out on not trusting her to understand his situation — but this whole night's fucked anyway, like they're living in an episode of the twilight zone, so she figures she doesn't have much to lose. of course, she's still somewhat of a coward, so she busies herself with grabbing spare pillows and blankets from the closet. it's easier to keep talking, to admit things, when she isn't looking at him. "i still don't understand why you didn't just ask me to help." maybe it should be left as water under the bridge, but considering the fact he was two seconds away from being inside her tonight, she figures it needs to be addressed. and then she's walking back into the living room and tossing everything onto the couch, lips pressed together so she doesn't admit anything else. "... sorry, that wasn't helpful." just let him be, emma. "i, uh. is there anything else you need?"

doesn't matter to him, who initiated what, not when the responsibility of it rests upon his shoulders. always thought you were meant to get wiser with age, but noah feels as if he's retreating, making mistakes like he's at an age where he could just claim he didn't know any better. but, he does know better— he knows that he shouldn't have dragged himself to her door tonight, knows he shouldn't have gotten carried away in kissing her, touching her, when things between them are already confusing enough as they are. he carries that weight because he doesn't know what else to do with it, doesn't know where else to put it. " right, except i did the same thing, you know? expecting you to take me in tonight, " like he was some stray fucking dog. he'd taken advantage of her kindness, of whatever it was that still lingered between them, banking on the fact that she missed him enough to let her do whatever he wanted to her. his head hangs low, pressing his tailbone into the edge of the counter, still unable to find her gaze. she doesn't answer his question, merely provides him with a solution, and as his head finally lifts to find her, he finds that he doesn't have it within him to let her know that he couldn't stay here. that he wasn't sure if his body would let him, that he feels like he could choke on the thought of being so close to her, surrounded by such familiarity, yet unable to have even a drop of it. wasn't as if he had much an alternative, though; like he had anywhere else to go. " thanks, em, " he nods, albeit reluctantly. " would i be pushing my luck to ask for a blanket, too? "

[tambourineophelia]

there's lots of talk about t*ll l*ndemann's shitty 'poetry' on german twitter, because it's all just disgusting perpetrator-perspective bullshit, and it seems like he literally wrote one of those for every creepy, uncomfortable or abusive situation you could be in as a woman (or any victim of sexual violence) and i just.... what the fuck is wrong with this guy. and any publisher putting that on the market.

it's also terribly written.

anyways, i love to get triggered by 10 lines about a creep on the beach, because i only almost managed to suppress my memory of 'creep encounter on the beach'

[glassedplanets]

a few months ago giffy was like "haha hear me out, what if tattoo au" and then we blacked out and talked about nothing else for like three weeks