#to sever a loveless bond

[fletchingbrilliant]

To Sever a Loveless Bond Chapter Eight

Read the fic by @zaebeecee HERE!

Welcome to Fletch doesn't know how to edit down, part seventy-five-thousand

But I also don't regret it

By the way here's your reminder that I am an NSFW creator, but since I do Hellaverse ANYTHING that should hopefully go without saying. anyway. you never know.

We love Alastor having an asexual panic. Been there buddy.

The assistant talking to Angel Dust is named Wire, she's got a bit part in this chapter and I like her, she was really fun to design~

I love Rocky, justice for Rocky <3

See the other chapter artwork here:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five pt. 1

Chapter Five pt. 2

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

[zaebeecee]

Writing Update!

Just wanted to let anyone who’s waiting on Drowning in Stardust or Loveless Bond updates: neither of these things have been abandoned. My right arm has some pretty severe nerve damage (apparently) which has somewhat absolutely destroyed my ability to write at the moment.

However, both projects are still on and will be updated once I can use both hands again. Stardust will simply stretch into November instead of just being an October thing, and Loveless Bond will update as soon as I finish figuring out how to write this damn fight scene

I’m so sorry Alastor

Anyway, thank y’all again for your patience and I will continue to inundate you with RadioDust in the very near future!

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Moth to a Flame

Summary - Bound by duty and trapped in a loveless marriage, her heart still belongs to Jace, the man she truly loves. The weight of her choices and the secrets she keeps threaten to tear her apart, while the tension between love and obligation grows unbearable.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2179

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

'Cause he seems like he's good for you and he makes you feel like you should and all your friends say he's the one his love for you is true.

Jacaerys Velaryon had known from the moment he met me that I was the one.

His eyes held that quiet determination, a certainty that ran deeper than the tides that carried his bloodline, a certainty that defied logic.

It was as if the gods had whispered my name into his heart long before I even came into his life.

He didn't just see me—he understood me. There was something in his gaze that spoke of an unspoken promise, a bond that neither time nor circumstance could sever.

I felt it too, that inexplicable pull, that instant connection, as though fate itself had tied us together, long before we ever exchanged words.

From that first glance, my heart quickened in a way it had never done before as if it had been waiting for him all along.

I had heard of Jace long before we met. Stories of his valour, his grace in the air as a dragon rider, the weight of his lineage as a Velaryon, and his close connection to the Targaryen bloodline.

But none of the tales prepared me for the man himself.

The way his presence filled a room, not with arrogance, but with quiet strength. His every movement seemed deliberate as if each step he took was a dance between duty and desire.

There was no hesitation in him, no room for doubt. When he looked at me, I knew—I was his choice, not because he was told to make it, but because he wanted me, needed me.

In his eyes, I was not just a woman; I was the woman, the one who could match his fire with my own.

But life had always been cruel to Jace. It seemed as though the gods themselves took pleasure in denying him the happiness he deserved, casting obstacle after obstacle in his path.

From birth, he had been burdened with the expectations of his lineage, the whispers about his legitimacy, the constant reminder that despite his rightful claim to power, there were always those ready to question it.

His life had been a series of sacrifices, always doing what was expected, what was demanded.

And when it came to love, fate was no kinder.

It was not love or desire that would ultimately shape our paths—it was politics, a game played by those far removed from the human cost of their decisions.

I was promised to another before I could even comprehend what love truly meant.

To his uncle, Aegon.

Aegon, who was born with every privilege but none of the grace that should accompany it. Aegon, whose every action seemed to serve himself rather than the realm.

To him, I was just another acquisition, a pretty thing to claim and parade. He never tried to know me, never even bothered to see me as anything more than a symbol of power.

My hand in marriage was his prize, but my heart was something he would never possess.

How could he, when he didn't even attempt to understand the woman he had taken as his wife?

I would have endured it all—the cold indifference, the suffocating weight of being bound to someone I could never love—but now, I was trapped even deeper.

I was pregnant. Aegon's child. His legacy was growing inside me, sealing my fate forever.

The idea of it felt like chains tightening around my wrists, pulling me further into a life I had never wanted.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

The hall was brimming with life that night, yet it felt suffocating, like a cage woven from silk.

The air was thick, cloying with the scent of spiced wine and perfumed candles that clung to my skin like unwanted caresses.

Laughter bubbled around me, but it felt distant, muffled, as if I stood at the bottom of the sea, drowning in the weight of expectation.

Even the candlelight seemed dim, flickering uncertainly, like the fragile hope I still held onto. The low hum of courtiers sounded around me all gathered to celebrate Aegon's latest achievement.

A title bestowed upon him by the King himself, something hollow like "Lord of the Realm's Peace."

Everyone knew he was no bringer of peace. He had done nothing to earn the title except exist as the heir.

The court was filled with false praise, their cheers hollow, just as hollow as the man they celebrated.

Aegon stood there, basking in the adulation as if he had single-handedly won a great battle. His smirk stretched across his face as though he had conquered nations.

But all he had conquered was me—through politics, through duty.

I sat beside him, a hollow smile plastered on my face, though my heart was far from here. My hands rested protectively over my stomach, hiding the secret that only I knew.

I felt the subtle signs, the tightening of my ribs, the unspoken changes within me.

Soon enough, everyone would know. Soon enough, this prison I was already in would become one I could never escape.

My future was no longer my own, tied not just to Aegon, but to the child that grew within me.

"Another toast!" Aegon shouted, his voice thick with the slur of too much wine. "To my beautiful wife, who will no doubt give me a strong son—soon enough."

He winked at me, and the room erupted in laughter. I felt the eyes of the court on me, appraising, judging, already imagining the son that would be born of our union.

They had no idea of the storm inside me, the turmoil of being trapped in a life I despised.

My smile faltered, but I forced it back into place.

Across the table, Jace sat silently, his dark eyes burning into me. He hadn't touched his cup all evening, his hands clenched into fists as if trying to contain the fury he felt. He knew.

He had always been able to see through me, to sense the turmoil beneath the surface.

His anger simmered just beneath the surface, not just at Aegon, but at the fate that had brought us to this place, this moment, where the lives we had dreamt of were slipping further out of reach.

His gaze flickered to Aegon, then back to me. A question lingered there, unspoken but clear. How long will you let him claim you?

"Are you not pleased, my love?" Aegon leaned in close, his voice lowering in mock concern, though there was nothing genuine in his tone.

His fingers brushed my arm, cold and possessive, sending a shiver of revulsion through me. "You seem... distant tonight."

"Perhaps I haven't been giving you enough attention." His lips curled into a smirk, and I forced myself to meet his gaze, even though it took every ounce of strength not to flinch away.

His face was flushed from drink, the wine staining his lips, his eyes glazed over with self-satisfaction.

"I am tired," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. "It has been a long evening."

Aegon waved a dismissive hand. "Tired! You're always tired." His lips curled into a smirk.

"Perhaps you need more rest." He leaned in, his breath warm and sour against my ear. "Soon enough, you'll be resting plenty—with my heir in your belly."

The words sent a chill down my spine, and I had to swallow the bile that rose in my throat. He didn't know the truth yet, but he could feel it. The claim he would have over me, over my body, once the child was born.

There would be no escape then.

No more stolen moments with Jace, no more dreams of what might have been.

As the evening wore on, I found an opportunity to slip away. The hall had grown louder, the courtiers more raucous with drink and merriment.

I sought solace in the shadows, slipping out of the bustling crowd and toward the tall windows that overlooked the darkened gardens. I pressed a hand to my stomach, the life inside me already feeling like a prison.

The weight of it threatened to crush me, to drown me in despair.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jace's voice came softly from behind me, but it cut through the silence like a blade.

I didn't turn to face him. I couldn't bear to see the anguish I knew was there.

"What was I supposed to say, Jace?" My voice trembled, betraying me. "That I am carrying the child of a man I hate? That I am trapped in this marriage forever?"

He stepped closer, his presence a storm at my back. "I would've taken you away," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "We could have left—before it was too late."

I finally turned to him, tears stinging my eyes. "And gone where? To what end? We would be hunted, disgraced. Aegon would never stop until he had us both dead."

I pressed a hand to my stomach, the gesture feeling like both a confession and a condemnation. "And now... there's no escape."

Jace's face contorted with rage, with grief. His fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, I thought he might hit something or someone.

"This isn't how it was supposed to be," he muttered, his voice thick with pain. "You were supposed to be mine."

I stepped toward him, desperate to touch him, to feel the comfort I knew only he could provide, but I stopped myself.

Reality crashed down between us, a barrier I could never break. "I was yours, Jace. I still am, in every way that matters."

But his eyes darkened with bitterness. "But you carry his child. His blood will live inside you forever."

"I didn't choose this!" I cried, the words spilling out of me, hot and raw. "You think I don't hate it too? Every day, I lose a piece of the life we could have had. But what can I do? There's no way out now. I am bound to him, bound to this child, forever."

Jace's gaze flickered to my stomach, his expression torn between love and despair. "And what of the child? Do you even want it? Do you love it?"

The question struck me like a dagger.

I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts, but the truth clawed at my throat, refusing to be silenced.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice breaking. "How can I love something that represents everything I've lost?"

The silence between us stretched painfully, heavy with the weight of everything we could never say aloud.

Finally, Jace spoke again, his voice barely more than a whisper. "And Aegon... does he know? Does he know that you still dream of me, that you think of me every time he touches you?"

Tears spilt down my cheeks. "No. He's blind to it all. He thinks he owns me. But he doesn't know where my heart truly lies."

Jace's hand reached for mine, and for a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, we could still defy the odds. But before his fingers could touch mine, a sharp voice shattered the moment.

"There you are."

Aegon's voice, thick with drink, cut through the air like a blade. He approached us, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

Jace's hand still hovered near mine, and I saw the suspicion flare in Aegon's eyes. He smiled, but there was nothing kind in it.

"I was wondering where my wife had wandered off to," he said, his voice laced with malice. He wrapped his arm around my waist possessively, pulling me close.

His fingers dug into my skin, cold and possessive. "You've been talking to my nephew, I see."

I stiffened in his grasp, the air between us thick with unspoken tension. I opened my mouth to speak, to explain, but Aegon's laughter cut me off.

"No need to explain," he said, his tone mocking. "We're all family here, aren't we, Jace?"

Jace's eyes burned into mine, but his face remained impassive as he stepped back.

"Of course," he said, his voice strained. "I was merely congratulating your wife. She is... radiant tonight."

Aegon's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "Radiant, indeed. And soon, she'll give me the son I've been waiting for."

His words were a death sentence.

They sealed my fate as surely as any chains could. And as Aegon led me back into the hall, his arm still wrapped around me, I glanced back at Jace one last time.

His eyes followed me, filled with a longing that mirrored my own. We were both trapped, prisoners of a world we had never wanted, bound by duty and blood.

And as I was pulled further into the crowd, I knew that the life I had dreamed of with Jace was lost forever.

But does he know you call me when he sleeps? But does he know the pictures that you keep? But does he know the reasons that you cry? Or tell me, does he know where your heart lies?

Where it truly lies.

A/n - Abel does things to me, his music is just 🤌🏼

[aemonds-sapphire]

Acceptance

Summary: It’s your wedding night, so why are you knocking on Aemond’s door?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW. Virgin reader. Virginity loss. Friends to lovers. Consummation proof. Fingering.

A/N: You can most definitely read this as a stand-alone, but I do recommend reading part I, II, and III for some context. For those who have read each part, this is the final one. Hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 2.5k

To say you were nervous would be an understatement. You were absolutely terrified. But no amount of fear could deter you from the decision you had made.

You stood outside his bedchamber, the pit of your belly tightening in anticipation. Even thiugh there was still a tiny part of you that urged you to walk away, you didn’t.

Because you didn’t want to.

Your knuckles tapped the door twice and your heart lurched into a frantic pace as you bit your lower lip, attempting to keep your nervousness at bay.

It didn’t take long before you were met with Aemond.

He gripped the doorknob while his eye fell to your face first and then to your forearm.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, clenching his jaw.

Realising the conclusion he had drawn from the bruise that tinted your skin, you immediately shook your head with a chuckle. “No. I… tripped on my way here…”

He wasn’t convinced.

“Aemond… he did not touch me.”

Gradually, the tension on his face faded away, but he remained unmoving.

“May I?”

He stepped to the side at once, eye still fixed on you as you walked in. Closing the door shut, he paced until he was in front of you, bringing your feet to a halt.

You swallowed hard as you glared at the beautiful man with whom you had shared so much of your life. Lines were crossed and blurred beyond recognition. The friendship you had once share had morphed into something you had craved and yearned for.

Until tonight.

Until another man took you as his wife and severed that bond.

“What are you doing here?” he asked seriously.

You stared at him dazedly, feeling a jab at your heart. “He won’t bed me. He’s too drunk to bed me,” you said in a low voice, wishing to match his level of deadpan.

Aemond stood in silence for a long while before he crossed both arms over his chest, the linen undershirt underneath wrinkling.

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeated in a final tone.

Your jaw quirked angrily. “You do not know what I’m here to ask.”

Aemond heaved a deep sigh. “I already know,” he said simply. “You are not mine to take.”

“So you’d have me bed him?”

“He’s your lord husband.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. In truth, you had considered the idea that he’d be reluctant in having you. He had done so many times before, but you had hoped this time things would go differently.

“I’m willingly giving myself to you,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady. “My father will demand proof of consummation and…”

He held up a finger. “So that is why you’re here.”

“To give you my maidenhead? Yes.”

But Aemond saw deeper than that. “And proof of consummation.”

You stared at him long and hard. “This is the one thing I have control over as of right now. I was forced into a loveless marriage…” your voice faltered momentarily. “I’m married to a drunken fool who is too out of it to perform his duty.”

Duty.

The very thing that shaped Aemond’s being and one not easily broken.

“I will not take what’s not mine.”

“Please…” you said, realising how pathetic your plea sounded.

An empty silence weaved around both of you, only disrupted by the crackling flames dancing in the fireplace nearby. A warm hand touched your shoulder and you flinched away from his touch.

“I thought… you wanted this…” you said quietly.

His eye narrowed. “What I desire matters not.”

“It does,” you said, letting your robe slide off your shoulders and down your body. “You know I’m yours to take.”

You expected more resistance from him, but you could understand why he didn’t. After all, it was a feeling you knew all too well. Craving what is given to others.

He took a step towards you, eye roaming down the length of your body as you undid your nightgown. Aemond held out his hand to touch it before tugging softly until the sheer fabric came sliding down and pooling at your feet.

The exposure and cooler air had your nipples harden and you shivered as his hand traveled down your shoulder and arm.

“Please, Aemond…” you said, fighting back the urge to cry at how desperate you were. “Please…”

It was already appalling enough to be stuck in this situation, but you refused giving yourself to a man who meant nothing to you. Even if tradition called for it and had people marry each other out of pure convenience, you deserved better than that.

Especially when you had Aemond.

His hand came to rest under your breast and you felt his thumb caressed it slowly.

“You’re tempting,” he said as if talking to himself. “Too tempting.”

“Then take me,” you offered, bringing your own hands to rest on his chest, allowing yourself to feel his firm muscles heave underneath your palms. “I don’t give a fuck about my husband and I’m certain you feel the same way.”

He gritted his teeth. “Not even Vhagar’s fire would match the one flaring inside me when I saw you with him.”

Your fingers gripped the hem of his undershirt and he quickly got rid of it, exposing his torso to you.

“You should have killed him.”

Aemond’s lips turned into a smile. “A very alluring prospect, indeed.”

His hands were suddenly on your breasts and you bit back a moan as he caressed you. You couldn’t help but to have your own eyes travel down his torso, admiring how his muscles rippled under his skin.

“I’m sure Larys Strong will find a way.”

Aemond snickered. “Please do not mention him… it’s a sure way to ruin this.”

By ‘this’ he meant his restrained cock that had your nervousness turn into desire. Trembling fingers gripped the hem of his breeches, but before you could slip one hand inside he gripping your wrist.

“Tonight isn’t about me,” he whispered.

He ducked forward taking your lips in his and your eyes immediately slid shut with a soft sigh of pleasure. You could get lost in his touch for hours. A simple kiss shouldn’t be able to have wetness drip from you, but it couldn’t be helped. When you felt a nibble on your lower lip and his tongue lightly tapping it, you promptly parted your lips and deepened the kiss.

Without tearing himself from you, he took you in his arms, lifting you off your feet effortlessly as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Aemond only broke the kiss once he reached the edge of the bed. He placed you on top of the soft bedsheets, bringing one knee to press down for support.

You suddenly felt very exposed and staring into his eye had a wave of embarrassment wash over you, breaking eye contact.

“Look at me.”

Sucking in a harsh breath, you did as you were told, pressing your thighs together to hide your desire for him.

Suddenly, he moved away from the bed and came back carrying your nightgown.

Confusion splattered across your face as dropped to his knees on the mattress and slid closer to you. He gripped both your knees and parted your legs slowly to reveal yourself fully to his gaze.

Without uttering a word be brought your nightgown to rest just below your entrance, tucking it slightly under your backside.

“You’ll need your proof of consummation.”

Oh.

Aemond then settled in between your legs, leaning into you to press a tender kiss to the corner of your lips, causing you to shift restlessly underneath him, very much aware of the weight of his body on yours.

Your back instantly arched your back as you felt his hard cock pressed flat against your folds, causing your clit to swell and throb in anticipation.

Aemond lowered his face to your neck, planting several open-mouthed kisses across your sensitive skin. Your eyes fluttered shut and a moan escaped your lips. His tongue slid over your pulse point, sending your hips to lift from the bed, further increasing the pressure his cock applied to your clit.

“Aemond… please…” you groaned, deciding you were too tired of waiting for him to finally deflower you.

But what you lacked in patience, Aemond made up for in incredible self-restraint.

With one hand he stilled your rolling hips. “You’re not ready.”

You huffed in annoyance, dragging your fingernails along his chest teasingly. But he was right. He was well-endowed and you needed all the preparation he was willing to provide — and you willing to go through.

After ensuring you remained still, he snaked his hand between your legs, raising his own hips to make room for his prying fingers.

He pressed a kiss to your lips before sliding one finger inside.

But you could take more than that.

And you were aware he knew once a second finger joined the other.

You gasped into his lips, breath shaking and wet sounds filling his bedchamber. The head of his cock would occasionally hit your clit each time he shifted on top of you, making your entire body shudder in pleasure.

He gave you one final peck. “Can you take another one?”

It was possible you could, but you didn’t want another finger. You wanted his cock to push through your maidenhead and have you be bound to him.

You immediately shook your head. “I need more than that… please…”

Instead, he curled his fingers inside while pressing your clit with his thumb, causing you to cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.

Aemond held himself above you, watching you intently as more head flooded your body and wetness spilled from you. You drew your eye open and realised his gaze was as a fire that burned down on your face

Your mind drew a blank and you felt your lower abdomen begin to twist into a familiar knot. It never failed to amaze you how easily Aemond could get your over the edge.

Knowing your body far too well by now, Aemond was quick to withdraw both fingers from inside just as your walls were starting to clench down frantically around him.

“Aemond!” you cried out in despair at the overwhelming feeling of emptiness.

He brought his fingers to your lips, smearing your wetness across them before tasting it in a searing and scorching kiss.

You moaned, rolling your hips into him once you felt him lower himself onto you once more.

He cradled your face in his hand. “Are you ready?”

You nodded right away in between gasps as he slid his cock along your slick folds.

Aemond heaved a deep sigh as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest.

With a slight roll of his hips, Aemond managed to get the head of his cock through the barrier. You gasped loudly you felt a sting of pain followed by the uncomfortable sensation of something rolling down.

Tears gathered in your eyes and you felt Aemond kiss each of the away with his lips. He wasn’t moving inside you and you were wholeheartedly thankful for his thoughtfulness.

The pain wasn’t unbearable by any means, but it was enough to have you sobbing lightly.

“We can stop here,” he said lovingly, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

You took a deep breath, mustering all the strength within you. “Keep going…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

No.

But it didn’t matter. You had been waiting for this for far too long to back down now.

“Try your best to relax.”

Aemond kissed you again, but you understood it was mainly to muffle your cries as he sank deeper inside you. You tried to ease the grip around him, but it was proving itself to be harder than expected.

He broke the kiss with a growl, breath coming out in hot pants. “You’re too tight… I won’t… last long…”

Even through the pain, you managed to feel the weight of his words as your clit pulsed once again.

By the time he had buried himself deeply inside, you didn’t dare breathe for a few seconds, your body still trying to adjust to his size.

Your hands clawed at his back as you tried to ease some of the tension.

“Are you well?” he asked in between gritted teeth.

“Thought it would hurt more,” you breathed out, noticing he was struggling to keep himself steady. “Are you?”

He let out a breathy growl. “You’re squeezing too hard…”

It was clear that he wasn’t going to last long, so you squeezed one hand in between your bodies, applying a faint pressure to your clit.

“Move,” you urged him.

You needed to feel more of him and when the young prince slid out slowly and back inside, you felt the air in your lungs rush out rapidly. Your clit demanded attention and you didn’t mind to provide it, but Aemond would have none of that.

He pushed your hand away at once replacing it with his own, setting a slow and steady pace as your walls finally began to ease down around his cock.

The overwhelming heat and size of him filling the aching emptiness was something you never thought you needed. In no time, your muscles were clamping down around him urgently and the bedchamber whirled away into a blur as orgasm crept upon you, catapulting you straight into the middle of a storm.

“Aemond… Aemond…” you gasped repeatedly, feeling the muscles on his back flex languidly with each slow thrust.

Once more, you arched your back and your vision went dark. Spasms and contractions of pleasure washed down your body, centered around where where his body was connected to yours. Aemond had buried his face in the crook of your neck, no longer bothering to silence your cries of pleasure.

It took you a long time to realise he had pulled out of you and was coating your belly with hot streaks of cum, letting out the most alluring growls you had ever heard from him.

He slumped to the side, removing the blanket of warmth he had enveloped you in with his body.

You felt incapable of stringing words together for the longest time, merely trying to get your breathing to steady while feeling the rolls of his seed streaming down your sides.

Aemond was the first to move, gathering your nightgown in his hand, displaying a few drops of blood that had stained the fabric.

“I think I may have to kill your husband.”

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Today I come with a distressing idea.

What do you think of a polyamorous relationship (Thor x reader x Lü Bù or Hades x reader x Qín Shî Huáng) where they were already in a relationship and decided to include her because there was romantic and sexual tension, but for a while now she has felt them apart?

So, not wanting to bother them (feeling unworthy of being "the third option") she walks away and leaves, by the time they want to know what's going on, boom! It turns out that in the time he was gone we married someone else, a marriage of convenience.

(Maybe we are royalty, an important lady or something to make the arranged marriage work)

No happy ending, no consolation, just sadness on both sides; They understanding that they were wrong to forget that there were three of them (not anymore, there were two again) and we were living a sad and dissatisfied married life in the shadow of a husband married to his job (he doesn't cheat on us or treat us badly, but there is no love or affection)

PS: I missed you so much!

-Looking back on it now, had you known this marriage you had agreed to enter would be so cold, so loveless, maybe you would have waited for your previous partners.

-You were the third to join Hades and Qin Shi Huang, who started dating shortly after everyone had been brought back to life, as the two bonded first as friends, then grew into something more.

-You were friends with both of them, Hades whom you had known for years, being a goddess yourself, and QSH found you and he never left, but according to Hades, that’s how he was.

-After several months of playful smirks and winks, longing glances, and such obnoxious sexual tension that even Zeus was annoyed, you joined their couple.

-For a while, you felt so happy being with them, you felt like the most beautiful woman because of the way they treated you, all while falling more and more in love with each other at the same time.

-That’s when the whispers started, rumors and cruel words floating all around you, on how happy they were with each other, and you were just in the way. They were just jealous, wanting to be in your place, so they worked hard to sow doubt into your mind.

-It worked.

-You started shying away a bit from them, constantly questioning if they were happy with you being there with them, but unlike you, as this was serious to you, they just laughed off your concerns, thinking you were being silly.

-They weren’t laughing when you finally left, not wanting to get in the way any longer.

-They tried to plead with you, to talk to you, wanting to talk this out, now taking your fears seriously as they had heard others, those jealous pricks, and what they had been saying.

-You didn’t want to believe them, your heart was aching from the pain of them not believing you, and you lashed out, telling them that relationships were built on communication and trust!

-That’s why you married another god, a marriage of convenience for the both of you, there were no pretty words, no late-night talks, no presents or thoughtful surprises, and no love. It was like you were still alone, this time with a ring on your finger and a stranger in the next room over.

-Hades and QSH regretted every moment they had laughed off your fears, not taking them seriously, as they had lost you. You fled from them because you didn’t’ trust them, into the arms of another man who didn’t even love you like how you should be love.

-Hades buried himself in his work, trying to drown out his sorrow, which in turn led to more fights with QSH, as he was never home, and they never spent any time together.

-They realized they were losing each other because they lost you, and without you to guide them, they feared their end would soon be approaching.

[einsatzzz]

OCtober Day 27 - Fear - "Give me a reason to live with indifference, doctor"

"Even if I came to love humanity in the end, there won’t come a day when I know that love, will there...?"

Slow-downer is such a nice song that fits both Yui and Kana. But I see this song mainly as leaning towards being both Yui-centric and in some form, depicts YuiKana's relationship (though vaguely).

The drawing above is inspired from the original MV's illustration with a patient and a doctor. Considering their lore (that I've never talked about before actually) and relationship with each other, I thought it would fit them the best if Yui is the patient while Kana is the doctor that he consults his problems with.

I feel like this would make more sense if I hypothetically already finished and posted Yui's profile (its coming, trust). But anyway, he is someone who grew up in a loveless family that burdened him with expectations (sounds familiar?). This is something he bonded over with Kurumi.

A major difference is that, Kurumi's parents love her genuinely and doesn't see her as an object/pawn to be used as leverage in Family politics.

But in terms of his outlook in life and mindset towards it, he resonates more with Kana. All in all, the comfort that he finds in Kurumi's presence is vastly different from the comfort that he finds in Kana's presence.

Deep down, Yui is someone who yearns for love. He already got a good amount of it from the Ninomiya Family, who treats him like their own. But he somehow still feels a certain emptiness despite it all, like something within him is not yet filled. He secretly fears that this is something he won't ever find in his lifetime.

Who else would he seek comfort from on this other than Kana? Someone who is also showered by love from both parents and Kurumi. He absolutely knows she feels empty as well, but the thing is, it doesn't even seem to bother her all that much (or at all) for some reason. He's also smart enough to know that if he asks, he won't get a proper answer. He wonders if he can eventually be someone like that too, so he has less problems to think about?

Because ideally, the only problems he would like to think about is the funding for his next several robot projects or the daily trouble him & his bestfriends get into. Anything that doesn't require him to get serious and anything where he can still sit back and relax. He also loves it when the problem even solves itself.

On the other hand, whether it be Yui or Kurumi, and whether or not either of them would ever want to change for the better or for the worse or just stay stagnant, Kana will always happily 😃😃😃 have their back and accept them 😃😃😃 Take all the time that you need Kurumi and Yui! She will always be here for you, no matter what!

Anyway, I'm still respawning but trying to get back into drawing bit by bit (ngl, I still feel so tired). This is just a sketch while experimenting on some effects, but eventually, I want to draw something cleaner for them related to this song. I feel like I rambled way too much compared to the point that I'm trying to make lol

(Also, image above doesn't accurately reflect their actual height difference LMAO Kana is so much smaller, we're talking about a 20cm height diff here hahaha I just need them to both be clearly visible on-screen)

[acourtofthought]

I received two more anons which I'm adding below the "read more" button just in case anyone wants to avoid HOFAS spoilers (or the spoiler theories going around based off the book).

Seriously, how would that even work? Does he have to cut people in the chest to sever their bond? Ask them to try to find the thread that connects them (you know the one INSIDE of them) and play surgeon to snip, snip, snip? I said it in one of my last posts but the King of Hybern, who had access to the cauldron, was unable to break Feysands bond which Tamlin requested that he do. Which Feyre requested that he do (in order to save her family and friends). Amren confirms that "that sort of bond cannot be broken. The king is a fool, that sort of bond cannot be broken" and he couldn't as he he broke was the bargain. If the main big bad of the original trilogy was unable to harness the kind of power while using the actual Cauldron to mess with mating bonds, then how exactly could Truth Teller? Also, WHY would SJM create this super mysterious backstory for Truth Teller only to have it's super special power be that of breaking bonds? What would the fucking point be? Shall we just call Az the Anti Cupid? The Prythian Divorce Attorney because he's going to go around Prythian helping poor fae trapped in loveless bonds free themselves from it's shackles? This is what is said about TT with translation (not sure how it will read in English): "The Starsword is Made" "The knife can undo things." Done and undone. Matter and antimatter. With the right influx of power, a command from the one destined to wield them, they can be fused. And they can create a place where there is no life and no light. A place that is nothing. Nowhere." It's funny that the knife can "undo things" and they think that gives them carte blanche to have it undo everything, even that which was decided by a divine being. Bonds created by the mother herself? Truth Teller's got you covered! Humans turned Fae, Made by the Cauldron? Don't worry Elain, I'll unmake you in no time! Especially when the entire point of what was being said about the power of TT is that when fused with the sword, it can create "no life and life, a place that is nothing." Considering the conversation was talking about how the Starsword and TT were connected, wouldn't the more logical conclusion be that the as the sword is Made, the knife (it's opposite considering one is matter and the other antimatter) can "unmake" things, maybe objects? Like maybe the Trove which was made? Other weapons made by the Cauldron? Mating bonds are not made by the Cauldron but determined by fate / destiny. There's nothing to "unmake" as they weren't "made" in the first place. Bryce confirms that Az does not have the same shadows as Ruhn (Ruhn who has the same shadows as Rhys). Rhys confirms Az does not have the same shadows that he does. SJM CONFIRMS Az's shadows are not that of Rhysands. Rhys's shadows belong to him, they don't whisper to him or keep him company. The are an extension of him. Azriel tells us his shadows are his companions meaning they are not actually part of him. He says they keep him company, Rhys says Az learned their language. That all means that they are independent of him regardless of them being in sync at times or reacting to Az or whatever else they've done. As of the most recent book, his shadows do certain things with certain people / situations. They aren't very brave in the sunlight, all but one hiding while he steps into the sunshine. They reacted likes snakes ready to strike on two different occasions (one which had nothing to do with Elain). They are afraid of Koschei. They were curious about Gwyn and danced and sang in response to her her song / breath. I'm pretty sure they twirled around when he was interacting with Nesta too. Az confirms that they tend to vanish around Elain. Considering Az considers the shadows his companion, that they keep him company, don't you think he'd enjoy seeing them curious and playful and singing instead of vanishing or afraid of Elain's "light" that even E/riels admit to her having since they love the dark / light aesthetic?

This is such a ridiculous argument they're spreading around. The Cauldron was "messed" with while the Daglan had it in their possession. They took what the mother once used to create all life and used it for evil. To create monsters, to create things that would serve them, to create evil weapons. But the second the Daglan no longer had possession of it, the Cauldron returned to it's normal state which is not good or bad. It just is and the only thing that determines what the Cauldron is is the person wielding it but no one can alter the Cauldrons essence for eternity. After the Daglan ruled, it was used to turn Myriam fae (used for good). Just like the King used to to bring down the wall (bad). Just like Feyre / Amren used it to unleash Amren (that turned out to be a good thing). Mating bonds are not determined by the Cauldron, as proven by Amren they can not be altered by the Cauldron, and if they were, then how did every single other SJM endgame couple with a mating bond end up with a fantastic one despite the Daglan "messing with it" yet ONLY Elucien's bond has fallen victim to the Daglans influence 15,000 years later?

[trashogram]

Little Octavia slowly realizing her parents can’t stand each other. She starts to feel their hostile energy whenever they’re in the same room together and it upsets her. It’s frightening. She can’t stop hearing their screaming matches echoing down the hall. She tried to stop them once, running in with tears streaming down her face. The crying only made them more vicious toward each other, blaming each other for upsetting her.

Little Octavia becoming meek and docile, leaving behind her innocence just to pacify her parents and keep them from being toxic to each other because it’s scary and makes her tummy hurt. She doesn’t know it but she’s developed an anxiety disorder.

Octavia listening to her mother’s ranting and raving about how awful Stolas is, and they bond through a common enemy whenever he’s not around. Octavia soothes her father as he mourns his own life and bitterly jabs at Stella. Octavia never stops smiling even when it hurts. She’s the victim of parentification and if she isn’t helpful, the guilt and shame will eat at her mercilessly.

Octavia begins to feel exhausted every day despite getting enough sleep. The thought of another day drains her so much that she can barely get out of bed. Her parents show some concern, but are too wrapped up in themselves to be there for her for very long.

Octavia hates the way her parents treat their staff. Everyone is so much smaller than her parents and their friends. Octavia is so much smaller. She starts to feel sick when an imp is tossed aside like trash, or a Hellhound protecting them goes unacknowledged. Why are they so thoughtlessly cruel?

Nothing tastes good anymore. Octavia always feels nauseous, and has for years. She would prefer not to eat, or even drink sometimes. She just wants to stay in her room with the lights off and the curtains drawn. She wants the music to drown out her racing thoughts and the memories that creep up like ivy.

Octavia feels like daggers are piercing through her heart even though Stolas hasn’t said anything, just looks dismayed. She’s tried this grimoire spell several times now and it’s not working. The magic doesn’t flow from her claws like it does for her father. His reassuring smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he tells her that it’s okay.

Octavia fights the tears that threaten to fall as her mother huffs disappointedly when she stumbles through her curtsies and her dances with other Goetia lords and ladies. Stella waves it off and kisses Via’s cheeks later, but her affection is half-hearted and mired in discontent.

Via’s peers give her funny looks when she speaks, because she’s been silent and standing at the edge of the group like a haunting specter all this time. She makes a tiny mistake and the embarrassment is so strong that she can feel panic invading her lungs.

Octavia cries quietly in her room. A thought comes in the midst of her self-loathing — she wouldn’t be so stupid and incompetent if her parents taught her how to do these things instead of expecting her to know it all already.

Octavia cries harder, ashamed of herself.

Her father is caught sleeping with another man and Octavia feels her heart stop. She knows that Stolas and Stella can’t stand each other, but it’s still a shock. The betrayal feels like a physical blow, like Octavia stood shaking with this household on her shoulders all this time and now it’s crashing down. Everything splinters and scatters, glass shatters, and the rot in the walls and hiding underneath the floor starts to reveal itself.

Her parents are divorcing. Her father is happy for the first time since Octavia can remember, and her mother is sulking but still has her machinations. They stomp on the remains of the house she tried so hard to keep together as they go their separate ways.

Octavia feels something deep inside of her break as her father shouts that she is the only reason that Stolas and Stella have remained in a loveless union. She is the reason that they were forced to be together, miserable.

Octavia thinks that if she didn’t exist, none of this would have happened.

She’s numb everyday. Hell keeps burning, but Octavia can’t care. Her parents pick up on the change when she can no longer pretend to agree with them or feed into their delusions. Their confusion, their anger, their concern — it can’t hurt her anymore. She’s dead inside.

Little things get past the murky glass that contains her. She looks at her mother one day and thinks ‘I can’t stand you’. She listens to her father prattle on and thinks ‘you’re not capable of love’.

There’s a date on the calendar that was marked with a promise long ago. Octavia blacks it out before she tears the calendar into pieces that she then sends flying out the window. She only needs the bag in her closet with her whole life inside. It won’t stir any attention when she leaves and never comes back.

[uwushitsuji]

"do you ship sebaciel?" I dont consider myself a sebaciel shipper. I used to, when I was a teenager, but I dont anymore. Not to mention as I grew older, I became more sensitive to some things involving minors, and explicit content of them makes me really uncomfortable.

For obvious reasons, I dont see them in a romantic/sexual relationship (I dont even think sebastian is even capable of feeling sexual desire nor love the same way we humans do).

However, I adore their whatever-they-have. It's probably my favourite fictional relationship ever. And I think it's that great *precisely* because is not romantic.

You can only truly love someone when you see the other as an equal. Ciel and Sebastian are pretty much the oppositte: it's the unhealthy power imbalance what defines their dynamic.

There's no real love there. They are not lovers, they are not friends, they are not (found) family. They are not (only) master and servant. They are just Ciel and Sebastian. They are nothing, but they're each other's everything.

There's no love there. But there are several layers of codependency, messed up power dynamics, desire, manipulation, addiction, emotional abuse, possessivenes, cruelty and, somehow, some genuine care, admiration and affection for each other.

There's no real love there. But I have never seen two characters share their level of intimacy, devotion and mutual trust.

Their relationship is ugly, loveless, abusive, dirty; but there's some weird, twisted beauty in it. It's as disgusting as fascinating.

For me shipping them is a disservice to the depth of whatever they have. There's nothing romantic between them because there's no love. But the bond they have is even stronger than love itself.

There's no romance, but the desire, intimacy, trust and need for each other is, somehow, way more romantic.

The relationship between them is so complex and unique that I can't ship it, because they don't fit in any ship "category". They're just their own thing. Just Ciel and Sebastian.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Sephiroth brings his little brother Chadley to work!

Sephiroth and Chadley

Let's say Chadley is tasked to gather Sephiroth-related data for a week. Sephiroth uses this as an excuse to have Chadley follow him around for a week so that they can bond.

*Cue the cutest montage you will ever read*

• Chadley in his office while Sephiroth does paperwork. Sephiroth grows bored and looks up how to make a paper airplane. The pair learn how to fold them, then make several that they launch from Sephiroth's office window, laughing as they do so.

• They steal Genesis's prized copy of LOVELESS from his office when he's not there. Genesis knows, of course. He sees them place it on a bookshelf in the lounge, but opts to feign blindness. He's just happy to see Sephiroth smiling.

• Angeal makes sure to take many secret candid pictures of the pair. He now has multiple polaroids of them laughing, messing around, and comfortably leaning against each other.

• They take a day trip down into the sector 0 streets. After learning that Hojo never provided Chadley with toys either, Sephiroth takes Chadley into a toy store. They're particularly interested in the giant, blue airplane in the window. They come out with loads of childish trinkets and the big blue airplane.

• A few turks including Tseng catch Sephiroth pushing Chadley on an office chair at full speed in one of the hallways.

• Chadley visits Sephiroth's apartment for the first time and is fascinated by Sephiroth's variety of textbooks. After almost falling asleep on each other while watching a nature documentary, Sephiroth remembers a contraption he keeps in his hallway closet.

• He pulls out a telescope! Chadley is excited, but mourns how they won't be able to get much use out of it in Midgar.

• But Sephiroth has an idea.

• He's set to go on a solo mission in Mideel and takes Chadley with him. Sephiroth could easily finish the job early, but decides to stall to buy them time. They camp out in the woods and take time exploring, Sephiroth teaches Chadley how to hunt, and they even go fishing! Chadley gets too excited while casting the rod and falls into the waters.

• Sephiroth rushes in to get him out and is surprised when a hand pulls him inside. Chadley has mastered the art of pranking. That was his plan all along, and now the pair are soaked inside the water and laughing.

• They go for a swim as the sun sets. As the skies, darken, they head back to their camp and set up the telescope.

• The pair spend the night observing the galaxy, comets, planets, and even a shooting star.

• Sephiroth recounts seeing a shooting star years ago in Wutai, back when he was Chadley's age and Genesis had explained to him that people typically wished upon shooting stars.

Chadley: That's a fascinating custom to adhere to. May I ask what you wished for?

• Sephiroth looks away with a cryptic smile. Genesis had insisted that wishing on shooting stars were a very real way of having ones wishes granted. Had that younger, naive Sephiroth known Genesis had been correct, he would've wished for a family member long before Wutai.

• The week of data collection comes to an end. Both Sephiroth and Chadley are saddened. They enjoyed seeing each other every day. Chadley promises to make time to visit him every week, but Sephiroth assures him that he'll come to personally retrieve him from the labs on a regular basis.

• Chadley turns to enter the elevator, but then he stops and lingers for a moment longer. Sephiroth is a breath away from asking him if he's alright, when he's hit full force with a hug.

• Sephiroth hugs him back, lifting Chadley off the ground as the two embrace.

Sephiroth: Dare I say you're experiencing an emotional response?

Chadley: I am! Although I'm unsure of what to classify it as. I know it's positive, my body temperature has increased, and I was overcome with a desire to hug you.

Sephiroth: You'll figure it out.

• And the two part.

[fletchingbrilliant]

To Sever a Loveless Bond Chapter Seven

Catching up so slowly, especially feels sad since this chapter was so short XD''' help i wanna draw so much but time and energy are so hard to come by

Read the fic by @zaebeecee here!

And here's the precious chapters' artwork:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five pt. 1

Chapter Five pt. 2

Chapter Six

[zaebeecee]

To Sever A Loveless Bond

••RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 22/?

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

•••

Since the last chapter of anything I put out, I had surprise emergency hand surgery. So… that’s where I’ve been. Typing on your phone with a splint is almost impossible, 0/10 don’t recommend

CWs: Maiming, dismemberment, physical altercations, Alastor insisting on being just so Alastor, motherfucking angst

•••

“Angel!! Don’t!!!”

But, of course, Angel didn’t listen. Alastor would have been surprised if he had, honestly; he had never seen the spider so curt and cold, rage bubbling somewhere deep within him and clearly erupting like a volcano the moment Valentino presented himself as a viable target. Angel Dust seemed different, somehow, and Alastor couldn’t determine whether such a change was new, or whether it had been bubbling under the surface this whole time; whether it was temporary, or whether this last venture into VoxTek had done something to him.

Something for which I am more than partly responsible.

No, Alastor knew that was ridiculous. Angel was stronger than Valentino, than Vox… his heart might have even been stronger than Alastor’s himself, an allowance he never thought he would grant another. Angel wasn’t broken by VoxTek, and he wouldn’t be broken by Alastor.

Angel…

Alastor was still weak from the electricity that had been coursing through his muscles on and off for hours, and the sheer force of will required simply to get up off the table was so monumental that he thought he might collapse the instant his hooves touched the cold tile floor. His knees gave out and he only just managed to catch himself on the edge of the slab, his teeth creaking under the force of his clenched jaw as he forced himself to breathe.

I will not let this defeat me.

“You little bitch!!” It seemed that Valentino had regained his senses, and Angel hit the ground with a sharp sound of pain as the overlord threw him off and grabbed at his own bleeding face. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?!”

“You ain’t done shit for me and you know it!” Angel screamed back, his voice echoing in the cavernous, empty room. The spider was on his feet, his body language turning defensive. “I’m takin’ Alastor and we’re both leavin’, Val, and you can’t stop us!”

Valentino’s laugh may as well have been a shriek of rage as he stood up to his full (and absolutely not impressive) height, venom-stained teeth bared in a grin that was barely holding back a snarl. But when he spoke, Alastor didn’t hear it; his attention snapped to the space behind him as a voice spoke.

“That’s certainly unexpected.”

Alastor spun so quickly he nearly fell again, catching himself with the heels of his hands against the metal table. Vox laughed an unkind laugh at his clumsiness, and Alastor felt his ears flatten back against his head. “You always did underestimate everyone around you, Vox.”

The other overlord scoffed, but Alastor could see the stress Vox was only just masking with a sharp smile and narrowed eyes. “Oh, I hardly think you’re the proper advocate for treating opponents with respect.”

Alastor let out a breath like the snort of an angry deer. “I told you that you couldn’t keep me here,” he said, rather than acknowledge the obvious jab.

“But you are still here,” Vox reminded him, even if he might have sounded less certain than before. “And it will take a lot more effort for you to get out of the building than it will for me to get you back in shackles.” Before Alastor could retort, Vox’s smile sharpened in a way he didn’t like. “That is, if you plan on taking Angel Dust. You’re weak, but I see the shadows. You’re connecting to them again, aren’t you? So. Why are you still here, Alastor?”

Alastor’s lip twitched. “What in the world are you babbling about, old pal? I came here with a purpose and I would hardly call it fulfilled.”

“Cut the shit,” Vox said, astonishingly direct suddenly. “Maybe your new little buddies out at the Hand-Holding Hotel don’t know you, but I do. You’re a coward. You have never once entered into a fight if you weren’t positive you could destroy your opponent with minimal effort, and the instant things seem even a touch in question, you’re gone. You don’t fight, Alastor. We both know that. And if you could handily take Val on a good day, he would have been gone decades ago; you’re barely even on your feet.”

Alastor ground his teeth together as he listened, wishing dearly to shut Vox up but armed with no words that would make him sound petulant or, worse, prove Vox’s point. Alastor’s conflict with Adam had been proof enough; yes, perhaps it had been a touch arrogant for him to assume Adam would be quite as weak as Alastor predicted, but he didn’t think the angel would be so…

And yet, Sir Pentious fought head on, knowing he would die. I suppose I am a coward, aren’t I?

“So run,” Vox said dismissively, continuing his words with no knowledge of the root of Alastor’s own conflict. “Run away like you always do, and tell yourself you’re no coward when you’re back and safe in your little den.”

Alastor shoved himself off the table. “Don’t patronize me, Vox,” he snarled.

Vox raised an eyebrow, laughing incredulously. “Or what?”

Alastor hated it. He hated that Vox was right. He couldn’t remember the last time he had engaged in anything that could really be called a fight before the exorcism… except for as far back as his childhood, most likely. Even his murders couldn’t be called ‘fights’, as his victims hadn’t had even half of a chance by design. Most of all, he hated how much he wanted to prove Vox right and simply cut his losses.

But I can’t.

Angel is here.

Alastor didn’t have much in the way of useful energy at his disposal, the bulk of what he did have dedicated to keeping him conscious and alert. He had enough in him to get himself out of VoxTek, but he wasn’t positive he could transport Angel as well without losing him in that dark abyss of nothingness. On the other hand…

The smug look disappeared from Vox’s face in a flash as Alastor flung his arm out at the other overlord, staff manifesting in his hand with a painful crackle of bright green energy that sparked all the way up to his neck. Vox barely had time to raise his arms to defend himself before black tendrils of shadow crashed against him, tossing him backwards onto the floor like a discarded rag doll. Alastor didn’t give him time to gloat, instead directing the shadows to seize Vox by the throat and haul him up into the air.

Alastor intended to fling the man screen first into the ceiling, but Vox had regained his wits and broke himself free with a sharp jerk and a burst of bright blue electricity. He landed on the floor, somehow managing to stay on his feet, and looked down at his arms where Alastor’s shadows had burrowed through the fabric of his jacket and shirt to drill into that odd and half-technological flesh of his.

Blood dripped from tattered fabric as Vox stared. “…I really liked this suit,” he said.

“You need new threads anyway.” Alastor’s words were strained but smiling as he spun his staff. “You may need to have it tailored for a new body shape once I’m through with you, of course.”

Vox snarled, rings appearing in his left eye. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

It was all the warning he gave before he threw himself at Alastor, but thankfully, that was all Alastor needed. He responded in kind, the two of them colliding in a burst of demonic energy powerful enough to short out the bank of computers and start the lights flickering overhead. It wasn’t anything like their last fight, the one that had permanently ended the farce that Alastor had almost believed was friendship; that had been a public display of power on both their parts, as much a demonstration of their strength to the whole of Pentagram City as it was an attempt to kill each other. This was much less elegant and far more personal, claws tearing and teeth ripping, tentacles of oozing shadow tangling and warring with thick and sparking electrical cables as the two drew each other’s blood time and again.

“You bastard!!” Vox screamed as four of his cables wound around the malfunctioning bank of computers like the tentacles of the Kraken seizing around a sailing vessel, hauling it off the ground with the whine of rent metal and snap of breaking electrical cables. They launched the desks and monitors at Alastor, who shielded himself with his waning shadows and managed to divert most of the debris to either side.

Exhaustion ate at Alastor’s muscles, every twitch of his shadows draining energy that he simply didn’t have. But Vox was bleeding and seemed almost as exhausted as Alastor was himself; if he had to guess, he would say his old pal had really pushed it when he channeled all of VoxTek’s electricity and wasn’t anywhere near recovered yet. If he played his cards right, he could—

Somewhere on the other side of the room, Angel screamed. All planning fled Alastor’s mind as he turned, immediately searching for even a glimpse of the spider. “Angel!!”

His distraction was brief, but it was apparently enough. Something heavy and hard struck Alastor in the back of the head, and he collapsed, hitting the floor with a force that would have broken concrete. A broken monitor hit the ground, bounced, and skidded away, Alastor registering that it must have been what hit him. He moved to scramble to his feet again, but a cable seized him around his left arm and hauled it backwards and up with enough force to dislocate his shoulder. Alastor hissed, his attempt to turn with the pull thwarted by Vox’s hand seizing his hair and twisting.

“Fuck…!” Alastor hissed, screwing his eyes shut against the unique pain in his head and the sharper, more pulsating hurt in his arm. “Let go of me, Vox!”

Vox didn’t seem to be listening to him. “I can’t fucking believe you,” Vox said, his voice rising steadily until he was yelling. “All of these years, all of your posturing, and even after that you actually allow that fucking mark to rule you! You’re fucking pathetic!!” Vox’s voice trailed into a strained, unhinged laugh. “But I can fix your little problem for you!”

Alastor’s eyes snapped open again. “Let go of me!!” he yelled again, an edge of panic piercing his words without his consent. Vox ignored him, tightening his grip in Alastor’s hair and bracing his foot on the middle of the Radio Demon’s back.

That was when Alastor felt the cable beginning to twist and tighten.

The pain was unimaginable, something he never would have been able to describe even with every word in every language at his disposal. The cable pierced into the middle of his left bicep and sliced his flesh, the coils turning his arm further and further until he felt something deep in a place that was absolutely not a joint… pop. Instantly, it was like the pain vanished, leaving Alastor with absolute clarity to feel what was happening, even if he couldn’t see it.

The muscles in his arm began to separate from bone and ligament as the sharp ends of the cables dug deeper and deeper until they hit bone. That bone cracked once, then again, before it shattered into two pieces. Slowly, his muscles and skin began to rip apart, pulling and pulling until a final snap tore more than half of his arm from his body.

Alastor might have screamed. He didn’t know. He couldn’t form a single thought except the fact that Vox had just torn his soulmate mark from him.

•

Valentino had been pulling his punches for the years that Angel had known him, which wasn’t a comforting thing to learn. Maybe it was just because he knew Angel couldn’t fight back and hadn’t needed to actually exert himself, but now that he could no longer command Angel…

Valentino’s clawed hand struck Angel in the face and Angel cried out in pain, stumbling away and grabbing at his ripped cheek. He could hardly catch his breath, but he managed to keep his feet, and Valentino wasn’t doing great either. Blood trailed down the overlord’s neck, and Angel was very proud to confirm that he’d broken the bastard’s glasses, which lay shattered on the floor several feet away.

Angel needed to figure out how to leave, and he needed to do it fast. He was pretty sure he couldn’t take Valentino in a fight, and he still had Alastor to look after and Vox to worry about. Angel hadn’t been able to pay attention to the other fight, all of his attention forced to stay in Valentino to keep from being seized or worse.

Alastor’s scream changed that. Angel snapped around just in time to see Vox’s cables tear something from Alastor, sending a wide arc of blood sailing through the air. It wasn’t until Vox tossed the thing aside and it hit the floor, rolling away, that Angel realized—

That’s Alastor’s arm.

The fight didn’t matter. Valentino didn’t matter. Neither did Vox. The only thing Angel could make himself care about now was Alastor and getting him out of the building, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Valentino looked as distracted by the sudden carnage as Angel had been, but Angel recovered first, picking up one of the monitors that Vox had been using as projectiles in three hands and slamming it into Valentino’s head as hard as he could. The moth dropped like a brick, and Angel left him there, tossing the monitor onto him and scrambling to run across the room.

Vox’s face looked some strange combination of delighted, furious, and horrified, and Angel didn’t want to consider the implications of that. He didn’t look up until Angel was almost on him, and even then, all he had time to do was say “What th—” before Angel grabbed his screen with his two lowest hands and raised one leg, slamming his foot into the center of his face with a force that cracked the glass and turned the image from Vox’s stunned face to colors and lines and indistinct images. Angel released him and didn’t spare another thought for him, instead dropping next to Alastor.

The Radio Demon howled, holding onto what was left of his arm and curling into himself against something that seemed far more painful than the physical hurt itself. “We’re leaving,” Angel said firmly, not waiting for an answer before he lifted Alastor in two of his arms and held the overlord against his chest. Angel stumbled to his feet, pushing past his own blinding pain to begin running for the door.

“ANGEL DUST!!” Valentino shrieked behind him, but Angel didn’t look, shouldering the door open and bursting into the hallway without slowing down. He could hear Valentino coming after them, and in a panic, Angel stopped to contemplate his options. The stairs would take too long, and Valentino could fly, so he could beat them down through the middle of the stairwell without any issue. They were decently high up, but…

Angel didn’t hesitate any further. Keeping Alastor held close to him, he grabbed one of the chairs in the hallway with two more hands and flung it as hard as he could into the window. The glass broke with a resounding crash, shards bursting outward and beginning to fall like rain… and Angel followed them.

The moment he launched himself out the window with Alastor held to his chest, Angel had a moment to think what a stupid idea jumping out the window was. For a moment, he could look across all of the Pride Ring, the night sky bright enough from the light of the moon that Angel could see all the way to the horizon. Then, he began to fall, the sensation strangely gentle and slow for something that would end in such a hard and fast impact. Angel curled himself around Alastor, turning so he would take the brunt of the landing, and buried his face in the Radio Demon’s hair. As wind rushed past them, Angel thought he heard Alastor speak.

“I’m sorry.”

Angel opened his eyes, but before he could ask, he hit the ground…

…and, somehow, didn’t instantly break his back.

It wasn’t a gentle landing by any means, but Angel had fully anticipated snapping his spine in half at absolute minimum, but the initial feeling spoke of nothing but contusions and maybe a cracked rib or two. It was then that he realized he had landed on something, something that vanished before Angel could discern what the fuck it was and deposited both him and Alastor onto the street with a painful thud.

“What the fuck?” Angel whispered, trying to push himself into a sitting position and failing. What had he landed on? Where the fuck had it come from?

Somewhere above him, Valentino screamed again, and Angel looked up to see the overlord descending with spread wings and fury in his glowing eyes. But when he landed, he wasn’t looking at Angel. He was looking at someone behind him. “This does not involve you,” he snarled, voice strained with rage and pain.

“Actually, it does.”

Angel’s eyes widened and he turned his head to look back and up. Charlie wasn’t looking down at either him or Alastor, the entirety of her focus on Valentino. Her expression was deadly serious, demonic horns fully extended and her hair gently fluttering in the beginnings of that odd and supernatural wind of fire she had a tendency to conjure around her when she got worked up. Her hand was wrapped around her pitchfork, the end of the weapon digging into the street as though it was made of styrofoam… or flesh.

Charlie’s expression didn’t change, and she still wasn’t looking at Angel. “Angel Dust is no longer your concern,” she said, as though she knew exactly what had happened, somehow. “And neither, I believe, is Alastor. Both of them are off of VoxTek’s territory, placing them outside of your boss’s sphere of control, which means that if you try and touch either of them, I have freedom to kill you. And I will,” she said calmly. “If you want to live, go inside. If you want to see what the Great Abyss is like for yourself, step closer or come to the Hotel, and I will gladly show you.”

Valentino hesitated. “…you’re full of shit,” he said, but he looked distinctly more terrified than he had the last time he and Charlie had spoken, probably because he no longer had Angel to use as a shield.

“Am I?” Charlie’s eyes narrowed, a swirl of fire curling around her as that odd wind picked up and her eyes began to change. “Then come closer, Valentino. You’ve been making such smart decisions lately.”

Valentino took an abortive step back, clearly groping for an argument or a comeback or anything that wasn’t just staring at her. “…bitch,” he finally spat, turning on his heel and storming into the building like he wasn’t running from a fight with a woman he had so often called a spoiled little princess.

Charlie didn’t move until he was gone, but the moment he was, her entire demeanor changed. “Holy shit holy shit holy shit,” she said, dropping down beside Angel and wrapping a bracing arm around his shoulders. “Are you two okay?!”

“I’m great,” Angel managed. “Better than Alastor, anyway.”

“Better than— oh, fuck,” Charlie whispered. “…come on. Let’s get back to the hotel. I… doubt he wants to be seen like this.”

“Yeah,” Angel said. Alastor said nothing, and Angel sincerely hoped he had lost consciousness and was getting some sleep. He let Charlie help him up, then took her offer of support, arm draped around her shoulders. Charlie braced him with a hand on his wrist and an arm around his waist, and they began walking in silence that carried them for a while.

“…sorry I didn’t bring transportation. I left in a hurry.”

“S’fine, Charlie. Don’t sweat it.”

“Okay. But you should know that Valentino won’t be a problem anymore. At least, not the same kind of problem.”

“No?”

“No. I’ll tell you all about it after you’ve gotten some rest.”

“Not gonna budge on that, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Fine. …hey, Charlie.”

“Yeah?”

“…thanks.”

“Of course, Angel.”

•••

The evening passed in an odd sort of blur. Alastor was taken from him as soon as they entered the hotel, and Angel’s protests were ignored as Husk and Cherri (what was she doing there?) forced him upstairs to his bedroom. There was a third person, too, or at least… Angel was pretty sure there was, but he had no idea who as he was made to bathe and sit through bandaging and dressed in comfortable clothes and put in bed with an excited and concerned little hell pig.

Later, his mind tried to tell him that it had been Arackniss, but that was impossible. Why would his brother, of all people, be at the hotel?

Angel slept through until the next afternoon, and when he woke up, he was sore and hurting and absolutely starving. He didn’t bother changing clothes or even touching up his hair, just lifting Fat Nuggets and carrying him back downstairs to try and find out what was happening.

His reappearance inspired… odd reactions. Angel was used to people expressing exasperation or irritation or even worry when he would disappear for a few days and then come back, but he hadn’t expected relief. Angel didn’t know how to respond to it, and of all people, Vaggie was the one to break the tension and herd him into the kitchen. He was instantly shoved into a chair as Husk made food and Charlie sat with him and Vaggie to start telling him what he had missed.

It was… a lot. His kidnappers turning out to be IMP, who apparently immediately crashed the hotel to try and fix the problem, was unexpected, but it was only the start. Someone (they didn’t say who and Angel was too tired to ask) breaking into VoxTek and stealing his contract, Alastor’s disappearance, Vaggie and the imp named Blitzø taking the contract to a Goetian prince to try to find out how to break it, Charlie and the imp named Moxxie actually breaking it with Niffty’s help…

It really was a lot. It was too much. That was a lot of people he needed to thank, and showing gratitude was one of his absolute worst skills.

Angel didn’t know how to respond, and thankfully, he wasn’t expected to. He was fed, and then he was made to go back to his room and rest, and Charlie gave him firm instructions that he was to stay in bed and just deal with people bringing him food until Husk said otherwise.

It was a shitty deal, frankly, but nowhere near as bad as his last.

Angel ended up not really minding that much anyway. The absolute relief of being freed from his contract hit him when he was alone again, and he held onto Fat Nuggets and cried until he fell asleep. The next week passed in much the same way, Angel sleeping through most of it and only waking up to eat or to have his bandaging changed. By the time he was cleared to resume life again, Angel was suffering from cabin fever and pretty sure he would have happily done housework if it meant not sitting around in his room.

Angel cleaned himself up and pulled in clothes that weren’t intended for sleeping for the first time in days, heading down to the lobby and looking around until his eyes landed on the bar.

“Morning, kid,” Husk greeted without looking up from the game of solitaire he was playing. “Upright, I see.”

“For once,” Angel said, sliding onto a bar stool and folding his arms on the wood.

Husk smirked. “Want a drink?”

“Usually.”

“Got you covered.” Husk set down his cards and began mixing up a drink. “How are you feeling?”

Angel knew he wasn’t talking about the injuries. “Weird,” Angel admitted. “I’ve had a soul contract for so long I’d forgotten I was feeling it. Didn’t even notice it had broken at first. But now… now I can’t stop noticing it.”

“Yeah. Probably gonna fuck you up for a bit.” Husk set a reddish-gold drink in front of him. “You’ll get used to it again. If I were you, I’d be thinking more about finding a new job.”

“Oh yeah,” Angel murmured, leaning his elbow on the bar and his jaw against his fist. He took the cherry in the drink by the stem and used it to idly stir the alcohol. “Maybe this’d be a good time to start up my independent cam career. I got a lot of followers, so I know I’d be off to a good start. Charlie’s got enough rooms in this place, she might let me turn the one next to me into a studio.”

“So long as you soundproof it,” Husk said. “You’ve got no volume control, man.”

Angel couldn’t help giggling. “Hey, bein’ vocal gets me good tips.”

“I dunno, some guys would like you more gagged.”

“Fuck you,” Angel snickered. Husk smirked at him and went back to his game, letting Angel sip his drink in silence. It was always so weird when Husk wasn’t pushing, instead letting Angel decide when he wanted to talk. “…hey, Husk.”

“Yeah.”

“You seen Alastor around lately?”

Husk’s hand stilled on the cards, and he took a moment to answer. “…not much,” he said. “He looks like he’s doing fine physically, but I think the injuries to his pride are going to take longer to heal. He only comes out of his room when Charlie needs him for official hotel business. Otherwise, he’s been relegated to resting, just like you. Don’t think he’s even been on the air.”

Angel nodded slowly. “…yeah. Figured.” He traced his fingertip around the lip of his glass, trying not to worry. Of course, he hadn’t seen either Alastor or his shadow since that day, so not worrying was a big ask. “Vox ripped his arm off.”

Husk froze, but didn’t look up. “…is that what happened?”

“Mhm.”

“…huh.” Husk gathered up the cards and began shuffling. “We were all wondering. …it’s still gone.”

Angel wrapped his hands around the glass, staring into the liquid and trying not to freak out. “It’s not permanent, is it?” he asked. “Sinners… Sinners regrow stuff all the time.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But we don’t grow everything back, and sometimes scars and mutilations stay. You know that,” Husk said. His voice was guarded, but Angel thought he sounded sympathetic. Whether it was for Angel’s feelings or Alastor’s situation, he didn’t know. “He’s been… compensating. Nobody’s mentioned it. There’s an air about it that seems dangerous.”

Angel finished his drink, then folded his arms on the bar and rested his head. “…do you think he’d let me in?”

“Kid… I’m pretty sure you’re the only one he would let in.”

Angel nodded without looking up. “I don’t know what to say to him.”

“Can’t help you there.”

“Yeah. I know.” He pushed himself up again. “…thanks, Husk.”

“Don’t do anything that gets you bedridden again.”

“Blow me.” Angel flipped him off as he turned and headed for the hallway, aware that Husk returned the gesture wordlessly.

Even as Angel’s feet carried him closer and closer to his destination, he had no idea what he was doing or why he was doing it. He had promised Alastor that they would talk, but now that time had passed and the panic had drained from him, the task seemed almost impossibly daunting. With every step, he wanted to just turn around and run back to his room, a feeling that only got stronger as he stopped in front of Alastor’s door.

Don’t be a dummy, you dummy. Just talk to him.

Angel raised his hand, hesitated, then knocked. He waited for a few seconds, but he didn’t hear any response, so he tried again. When he was still answered with silence, he called, “Alastor? It… it’s me. Can I come in…?”

The answering nothingness lasted long enough that Angel turned and began walking away. He took less than five steps before he heard the lock click, and Angel turned his head to watch the door creak open a scant half inch. When it didn’t open further, and it didn’t close, Angel went back and cautiously pushed the door open to let himself in.

Alastor’s room looked the same as it always did. Angel was momentarily lost in an odd sense of nostalgia, almost laughing at how absurd the idea of finding the smell of a marsh comforting was, as he scanned the room and shut the door behind him. Alastor himself was easy to find, the overlord seated in his usual chair with his legs crossed and his elbow braced on the chair’s arm, eyes on the green light of the fireplace and expression oddly distant.

The silence was heavy, and Angel stood there for almost a full minute before he crossed the room and slowly lowered himself into the other chair. “…Alastor?” he asked, his voice soft enough that it wouldn’t have carried if the room hadn’t been completely silent,

Alastor’s eyelashes fluttered briefly, a sign he was listening. “Hey, sha,” he said quietly, not diverting his gaze; the radio filter over his voice was barely there, though he seemed to be making a conscious effort not to slip into his Louisiana accent. Angel took the opportunity to look him over; his face was a weaker shade of greyish than usual, his ears lowered and his smile so weak that it was undeniable the thing was held in place supernaturally. His clothes were all in order, but Angel couldn’t not notice how empty the left sleeve was, a modification already in place to allow him to fold and button it to keep it from—

Fuck, I can’t keep thinkin’ about this shit.

“I hear you ain’t been leavin’ your room much,” Angel said.

Alastor’s laugh was weak, but seemed genuine. “I was threatened into bed rest, same as you. And, as I promised to remain in my quarters, I thought it polite to actually adhere to my word this time.”

Angel smiled, but it was gone in seconds. “…didja still wanna… I dunno. Talk?”

Alastor didn’t answer immediately. In fact, when he finally spoke, it wasn’t an answer at all. “How are you feeling?”

“Uh…” Angel looked down at himself, raising one hand and looking at the palm and the back in turn. “I’ve felt worse, I guess. Still tired. Ain’t bleedin’ all over shit anymore, tho, so that’s a plus.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

Angel waited. “…so…” Alastor’s ear twitched, so Angel continued, “…you still wanna?”

“This sort of talking isn’t precisely my forte, Angel, and I’m not exactly under the influence of extreme electrocution anymore.”

“Whaddya wanna be under the influence of?” Angel asked, wincing the moment it was out of his mouth. “Joke. Bad taste. Wrong time. Sorry.” Alastor just shook his head. “I know you don’t do no… unloadin’ of your emotions,” Angel said, waving his hands a little as he thought. “It ain’t really by thing, either. But I promised we would, so I’m keepin’ my promise, even if you changed your mind.”

Alastor finally looked at him, first just casting his eyes to the side, then raising his head and settling back properly into his chair. “Changed my mind about… talking?” he prompted.

“Yeah. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Alastor repeated thoughtfully, tapping his claws against the arm of the chair. “I’m not certain what I should say.”

“Whatever you want. I ain’t exactly the judgmental type.”

This time, when they lapsed into silence, Angel recognized Alastor’s need to think and simply kept his mouth shut. A few times, Alastor’s gaze drifted back towards his fireplace, though it never fully landed the way it had when Angel first came in. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

That wasn’t what Angel was expecting. “…what?” he asked with a frown. “The fuck… why?”

“For leaving you at Rosie’s the way I did,” Alastor said, like it was perfectly obvious. “Had I stayed, you would not have—”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Angel interrupted. “Hold on. You ain’t blamin’ yourself for me gettin’ nabbed, are you?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No,” Angel scoffed, the whole idea completely ridiculous. “If they hadn’t done it there, they woulda done it the next time I was out alone. It ain’t your fault, Alastor, you didn’t do shit.”

“I left,” Alastor reminded him.

Angel snorted, unable to keep himself from smiling. “Well, yeah, of course you did. Like you said, you don’t do emotions.”

“That wasn’t why I…” Alastor began, shaking his head, before he sighed like he was annoyed with himself. “I realized I had no desire to be there, so I left.”

Angel’s expression slowly evened out. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I just don’t get why. Goin’ to Rosie was your idea in the first place.”

“I’m aware.” Alastor broke eye contact once again. “Would you believe me if I said I had no particular reason?”

“No. But I can’t stop you from sayin’ it.”

“Hm.” Alastor’s smile both softened and grew into something a little bit more real. “I didn’t want it broken.”

Of all the things Angel had expected Alastor to say, admitting something like that wasn’t one of them, whether he was telling the truth or not. “…why not?”

Alastor let his head fall back against the chair. “I don’t know,” he said, directing his exasperation at the blackness where his ceiling should have been. “It makes no sense. But it… is irrelevant now, I suppose.”

Angel tilted his head. “…how?”

“My mark was on the arm Vox tore off.”

Angel’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said. Of course, that stood to reason, considering where it was placed, but… “So, uh, what…” Angel hesitated, then said, “…what does that do?”

“I suppose it rather effectively accomplished what we set out to do in the first place.”

The silence that followed was different. Angel felt a thousand responses to that, each one warring to get out of his mouth first and leaving him speechless. He wanted to tell Alastor that was bullshit. He wanted to ask if the other demon didn’t feel anything at all anymore. He wanted to laugh it off and say it was no big deal.

“Oh,” he repeated instead. Alastor made a noise that might have been a response. Angel stared at him. Alastor was still looking at his ceiling. “So… you—… I mean, does…” He trailed off, then made himself start again. “Are you sayin’… what, we’re done here?”

“I suppose we are.”

It felt like Angel’s stomach had physically bottomed out. The only thing preventing him from throwing up was the memory of puking some of Husk’s other concoctions and not wanting to subject Alastor’s nice floor to that. “I…” Angel didn’t know if he wanted to cry or if he wanted to hit Alastor square in the jaw as hard as he could. “…I meant what I said. I still wanna be your friend.”

Alastor’s smile changed, just a little. He didn’t answer.

“…okay. Well, just… keep it in mind, I guess.” Angel looked down, then at Alastor, then quickly glanced away and nodded to himself. It wasn’t often that Angel himself felt awkward, and he wasn’t good at dealing with it. Angel pushed himself to his feet, hesitated, and then turned and headed for the door. He placed his hand on the knob.

So we’re really just done?

“…I’m glad you’re okay, Smiles. See you around.”

Then why don’t I feel any different?

Angel didn’t look back. He just opened the door, stepped into the hallway, and pulled it shut behind him.

•••

don’t worry it isn’t over I despise sad endings

[soubiapologist]

DOES ANYONE ELSE THINK ITS INTERESTING does anyone else think it’s FUCKING interesting that loveless sets up the whole soulmates as biological reality thing, your one and only predestined person who gives you Power, and then turns it into a social construct. in a series about Power and the deconstruction thereof. we are taught that being with your structurally ordained One And Only gives you power and IN UNIVERSE IT ***LITERALLY*** does…. we see other characters comment on how being with someone other than the person you are Predestinated to be with is disgusting and shameful, and it literally lowers your power in universe from what we understand. and this is used to abuse and isolate and manipulate people. we see children making these comments…. and reneging on them when they realize that it doesn’t really matter, because what matters is trying to be a good person. it’s soooo interesting that the soulmates thing is kind of set up as like a Cool Power but the series in general is pretty condemnatory of power structures and power in general. and also we’ve seen characters have this bond severed by ways other than death. hm 💭

[siennamakeschaos]

Sarcella Vacker!

Sarcella grew up with her older sister, Veira, and her parents. She and her sister are six years apart in age, but were always close. They stayed in contact when Veira moved into her Elite Levels, same for Sarcella. Veira is a Telepath

Sarcella met Orion when they were both in Level One. They immediately bonded over love of cupcakes and chaos, and have been best friends ever since. it's cliche shut up

Sarcella was in Level Three when she manifested. Her parents were out of the house when it happened, and it was only her and Veira. (who had graduated from her Elite Levels the previous year) She (almost) set her bedroom on fire, but Veira managed to prevent it.

Sarcella was panicking at this point and Veira was trying to figure out what to do. Since pyrokinesis was a banned ability. Eventually, they decided to fake an ability. Descrying was an easy enough ability to fake, and Veira helped Sarcella when announcing 'the news' to their parents.

In her ability sessions, she was given an Empath Mentor at first, since that was the closest ability to Descrying in some people's opinions. Then, when she was struggling, Councillor Terik offered to Mentor her.

Terik knew straight away that Sarcella was faking the ability, but he didn't speak of it, assuming that she wanted to cover up that she was Talentless. He sensed her potential on their first session together, and he said that he could sense 'great potential' from her.

Sarcella has heard stories about Pyrokinetics- Fintan Pyren to be specific- and she was afraid of her ability at first. Veira helped her through it, however, and they trained together whenever there was nobody home.

Orion is one of the only two other people (aside from Veira) Sarcella has told about her true ability. Sometimes, when they're alone together, she uses her ability to bake food quicker. A few of these times, the kitchen has almost burned down.

The other person Sarcella has told is the only other person she trusts with her life aside from Veira and Orion. It's her cousin from her mother's side, Fitz Vacker. duh ofc i'm working canon into it 🙄

Fitz tells Sarcella everything- she's basically his personal therapist at times- and in return, she tells him everything. Fitz and Orion bond over baking, which Sarcella occasionally joins in on. Sarcella and Biana have makeover sessions sometimes, every now and then managing to drag Veira into Everglen to join in.

Sarcella has been contacted several times by the Black Swan, the Collective trying to recruit her. She hasn't responded to any of the messages sent to her, too afraid to do so. She doesn't want to be involved in any of the rebel groups.

Once Fitz and his friends joined the Black Swan, Sarcella gave the idea of joining as well some thought, but ended up deciding against it. She supports Fitz and Biana as much as she can, however. (she is closer to Fitz than Biana, though.)

Sarcella currently lives with her girlfriends and sister, Veira. (Sarcella is bisexual, asexual and polyamorous) Often, Sarcella finds herself babysitting Orion's adopted child, Kailee, who is currently 6.

Sarcella is constantly trying to set up blind dates for her sister, who has had a rather loveless life so far. (Veira hasn't been interested in dating.) Most of the time, she fails. She will succeed some time soon. that's what she tells herself.

Okay I think y'all have had enough of me ranting about Sarcella <3

if you have any questions abt her, i'd love to hear them in my askbox!!

[cliozaur]

This chapter provides a good opportunity to discuss critical thinking. However, considering Marius' upbringing, it's understandable that he had no chance to develop such skills.  

While he did have a small rebellion against his grandfather, it was so subtle that M. Gillenormand remained unaware of it. The only way to sever the faint bond between Marius and his grandfather was to change Marius' political stance. Furthermore, after long years of loveless life, Marius has become obsessed with his deceased father. He passionately loves and idolizes everything about him (which reminds us of someone, doesn't it?). But where is Marius obtaining this information? We now know for sure that his “friends” were imaginary since he "did not know anyone," so no one could instruct or guide him in his pursuits. Therefore, he turns to the library and reads what is available, such as the official revolutionary, and later Napoleonic newspaper Moniteur. He becomes swept up in the propaganda, as "the first effect was to dazzle him." Marius is a self-taught political enthusiast, albeit a rather uncritical one. Additionally, he is driven by strong and novel emotions, which only intensify his fixation. While he may have learned a thing or two that could potentially be useful: “he beheld each of these groups of events [the Revolution and the Empire] and of men summed up in two tremendous facts: the Republic in the sovereignty of civil right restored to the masses, the Empire in the sovereignty of the French idea imposed on Europe; he beheld the grand figure of the people emerge from the Revolution, and the grand figure of France spring forth from the Empire.” But, of course, most of what he read was an impudent propaganda. No wonder he had an urge to shout “Long live the Emperor!” into the darkness of the night.

Hugo himself identifies Marius' biggest mistake as his failure to recognize the problem with using violence to achieve idealistic goals: “Fanaticism for the sword took possession of him, and complicated in his mind his enthusiasm for the idea. He did not perceive that, along with genius, and pell-mell, he was admitting force, that is to say, that he was installing in two compartments of his idolatry, on the one hand that which is divine, on the other that which is brutal. In many respects, he had set about deceiving himself otherwise. He admitted everything.”

Marius is in the process of discovering and exploring new emotions, going beyond mere love to much stronger variations: “on the one hand he admired, while on the other he adored,” he is also experiencing grief which is much stronger than just a grief: “Marius had a continual sob in his heart,” this feeling of loss of something he had never really had.  Poor Marius why should everything be so complicated for him?

Once again, we observe the generation gap between Marius and his grandfather. While M. Gillenormand belongs to the generation of "the first sexual revolution" and constantly thinks about his grandson's love affairs, Marius (like many characters in this novel) shows no interest in his own sexual life, at least not yet.

We finally see Marius interacting with his aunt: “When his aunt scolded him for it, he was very gentle and alleged his studies, his lectures, the examinations, etc., as a pretext.” At least he is not rude with her.

And now he is wasting his time searching for Thénardier!

[vftheflesh]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬 / CAMILLE HUNTER-CHOI.

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔

NAME: camille andrea hunter-choi NICKNAMES: cami or cam, occasionally called mom AGE: fifty-five DOB: april 26th GENDER: cis female PRONOUNS: she & her ETHNICITY: 1/2 african-american 1/2 korean-japanese SEXUALITY: lesbian MBTI: esfj ZODIAC: taurus FORMER OCCUPATION: nonprofit ceo POSITION: leader of the mountain sky hotel commune. HEIGHT: five-foot-eight HAIR: dark and curly TATTOOS: bay leaves alongside her right arm, a "j" on the inside of her left wrist, an oak tree on her back, ravens flying on her left bicep NOTABLE CHARACTERISTICS: from her left shoulder up to her jaw and ear she has mildly severe burn scars that have made it hard to hear out of that ear.

𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒚

camille isn't wanted - she knows this from a very young age. the hunters are a loveless family built on the bonds of old money and marriages of convenience. she watches her mother's face wilt with age and feels she is the only person who understands how truly miserable everyone is. she's expected to fall in line slotted easily into the lineup of happy, perfectly rich siblings. she spends her summers in ibiza attended by nannies and cousins and then her other seasons in swedish boarding schools. it is not a happy childhood by any length. it drowns in loneliness and she learns very quickly to rely on herself alone. by the time she hits eighteen she's given up any hope of repairing a relationship with her family. she packs up and takes what's left of her trust fund to travel. she spends a year in thailand, another in brazil and then settles back in the city. she becomes the kind of boots-on-the-ground woman she always wanted to be and distances herself from the memory of a rich girl yearning for love. almost like an accident she falls in love. her marriage, whether out of desperation or sheer delusional hope occurs and for twenty-odd years she is a wife. the weight of it rests on her - the idea that maybe she never wanted to be one in the first place. somehow she ends up back in the same gilded cage of wealth she'd been born in. she escapes through work with her nonprofit and spending summers in guatemala building houses and wondering how she ended up here. the affair is a natural consequence of it all - it's brief only half a year at the end of a dying marriage but every request for a divorce is carefully rebuffed and before she can put her foot down the world ends. then it doesn't seem that important anymore. in the early days her home burns down and her wife is gone and she's left with nothing more than the scars. she makes her way to valdez through sheer tenacity and cares for the community like they were her own children. camilla is a tough, but fair leader. she endeavors to hear out every resident of the mountain sky hotel but rules are rules. the decisions she make - no matter how hard - are made to keep everyone safe.

𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚

many describe camille as warm and maternal. she attempts to lead mountain sky fairly though takes every failure personally and can be discouraged by her own attempts to do good. she has a natural magnetism to her that makes her open to listening and caring. but her pride is stubborn both her failures and her successes she owes to herself. while she never had children of her own she regards many of the members of mountain sky hotel as family. to her, her duty is a protector and a guide - she has no desire to be an almighty ruler rather to work together to create a community everyone can be happy and safe in. she is sometimes blinded by her own idealism - too focused on trying to do the best for everyone that she can't do well for even one person and often defers making harder decisions to her second and third in command. the responsibility of her position weighs incredibly heavy on her and sometimes it's called into question whether she can handle it. she sees things in a very practical manner only focused on long-term goals which occasionally causes lapse in short term necessities.