#trying to understand them and work with them

[sable-skies]

maybe its cringe to reply to stuff with gifs to try and express how i feel but i care not i am cringe but i am free i am the dancing dog in this gif THESE ARE SO GOOD!!

aoguahga the detail is so lovely and ur pixel work is fantastic!! loading onto hypixel with the SICKEST drip

goodness gracious this took far too long. anyways, the rest of them :]

[thescriptorium]

thinking about caitlyn kiramman and how her lack of words are so fundamental to the end shape of her character. cait doesn’t say “i’m sorry” when Vi yells at her about being Ambessa’s puppet, she yells “i know” because she’s intelligent enough to see the spiral of events but not enough to know how to stop it. she doesn’t say “i’m sorry” but the very next scene she attempts to make peace with jinx. she doesn’t say “i’m sorry” but she calls off the guards so Vi can secretly try to save her sister—a terrible plan but one that Vi needs to do.

caitlyn isn’t surprised to find that jinx escaped. she expects Vi to be locked away by her sister so that she won’t chase her. because that’s the doomed tragedy of them.

everyone knows Jinx can’t be saved except for Vi.

Vi wants so badly to believe her love will somehow save her sister but it never will. her fatal flaw is that she will always try and she will always fail. and then caitlyn knows Vi will unjustly blame herself, so she’s there at the cells to ground her and remind her that this is how it’s always been. you’re getting predictable.

and then vi finally understands that caitlyn pulled all the strings for this. that she gave her another chance to open a cell and go after her sister, even knowing it would never work. it’s an apology and it’s cait saying “i know who you are.”

caitlyn kiramman doesn’t use words, she takes meaningful action because she’s only half the charismatic councilor her mother wanted her to be. she’s grown up an outsider and keeps a careful mask for everyone except violet, which is why season one opened her up so magically. she’s naturally stoic and reserved but she’s bold.

and then vi has to kiss her right then in the cells. because meaningful action means so much more than words to someone like her, who just wants to be of service to the people she loves. what caitlyn did was a reciprocation of her love language. and then Vi acts more by instantly showing her love, giving caitlyn all her love, because she’s the only person in this story willing to accept it. without hurt or heartbreak, vi can pour this massive heart she has into the only hands capable of understanding it. of being tender with it.

because caitlyn knows that vi is devoted to such a massive fault, but it doesn’t deserve to be punished. not any longer.

caitlyn kiramman doesn’t use words, but she keeps the burden of jinx locked away in her heart. all so that vi can finally know what a safe home and peace feels like ♥️ AUGH

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 4

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

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

"You want to tell me what exactly you apologised for?" Cassian demanded as they left Azriel's bedroom. 

Azriel was curled around his mate like a tortoise shell and Cassian was quite sure that Azriel was going to slaughter everybody that would even try to get close to Irena.

Without even a second of hesitation. 

He had never seen Azriel so protective before, had never seen him so...possessive. It was almost scary how strongly his brother was reacting to almost losing his mate, how tightly he was curling himself around her like a shield. Cassian knew that mating bonds were intense, that they could drive instincts wild…Fuck, he had felt that all compassing need to pretect and claim himself…but…

But Azriel…he was radiating raw fear and intensity. 

Rhys grimaced. "I fucked up," he said frankly.

"Yeah, I agree, given that our brother preferred to keep his mate a secret for 2 years than to actually talk to us.” Cassian let out a low sigh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. "What exactly did you do that made him keep this from us?" he asked sharply, his voice tinged with frustration.

He didn't want to judge his brother, didn't want to assume that Rhys was the reason for Azriel's secrecy. But he couldn't help but wonder what had caused Azriel to keep something so important from them. And he couldn't help but feel a little hurt that he had been left out of something so significant in his brother's life.

It was frustrating and confusing, and it left Cassian feeling like there was a gulf between him and his brother that he didn't know how to bridge. He just wanted to understand, wanted to make sure that he hadn't done anything to make Azriel feel like he couldn't trust Cassian…

He knew that Azriel was a private person, that he valued his solitude and his privacy. But he had never expected him to keep his mating bond a secret for so long. 

It stung a little, that Azriel had been able to hide something so significant for so long without any of them suspecting a thing.

"Around two years ago...I warned Azriel off Elain," Rhys admitted with a grimace. "I was not...particularly...appropriate with my word choices."

Azriel and Elain?! Cassian's eyes widened at the admission, his jaw dropping open in shock. "Elain?! You warned Azriel off Elain?" he asked incrediously. "I didn't even know that there was..."

"There wasn't. Not after...They...they nearly kissed during Solstice once, even with Lucien in the house and it was...I stopped them." Rhys admitted. "It was a political clusterfuck."

Cassian felt another rush of disbelief and anger wash over him at that. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, couldn't believe that Rhys had interfered in Azriel's personal life like that. "You had no right," he growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You had no right to get involved in his love life like that, Rhys."

"I had every right," Rhys snapped. "Elain has a mate and so has Azriel, as we just found out."

"He didn't know that then," Cassian disagreed. "Elain and Azriel clearly had...something between them and yet you interfered. What exactly did you say to him?"

"I ordered him not to pursue her," Rhys admitted. "I told him to leave her alone. That if he needed to fuck somebody, he should go to a pleasure hall and pay for it."Cassian's eyes widened at the admission, his jaw clenching tight as he struggled to keep his temper in check. 

"You...you ordered him?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You actually ordered him to stay away from a girl he clearly had feelings for? And then you...you told him to..." He trailed off, unable to even finish the sentence. He couldn't believe that Rhys had done something so callous and outright cruel to their brother. It was one thing to warn Azriel off of pursuing a girl who already had a mate. But to order him around like some kind of puppet and then insult him like that...it was beyond terrible. "Yeah. No fucking wonder, he didn't say a single word about Irena," Cassian growled under her breath. "You can probably consider yourself lucky that he didn't snap your neck for that, Rhys!"

Rhys winced at the words, his expression turning apologetic. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm...I don't really have an excuse. I was just...I thought I was doing what was best for him, for our Court. I didn't mean to..."

He trailed off, his voice shaking with emotion. Cassian could see how much his brother was struggling with this, how much the knowledge of what he had done was eating away at him. And he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Rhys, even as he was still seething with anger towards him.

He knew that Rhys had always tried to do what he thought was right, that he had always tried to protect their Court and their family. But sometimes...sometimes he made mistakes. And those mistakes had consequences, consequences that were often painful and devastating.

"I did apologise," Rhys said weakly.

"Oh, did you?" Cassian said with a snort. Rhys's apology did little to improve Cassian's temper, his anger still simmering just beneath the surface. "And that makes it all better then?" he demanded, his voice tinged with bitterness. "A simple apology fixes everything? Clearly it doesn't! Otherwise we would have known! Azriel would have told us that he met his mate!"

"What apology?" A voice behind them demanded, and Cassian should probably not be surprised to not only find his own mate there, but also Mor and his High Lady.

"Feyre Darling...Where is Nyx?" Rhys asked

"With Cerridwen. Don't change the topic," Feyre demanded. "What in the cauldron even happened?!"

Cassian let out a low sigh, shaking his head at the interruption. He couldn't help but feel a little grateful for the distraction, though. "Rhys told Azriel not to pursue Elain romantically three years ago.," he explained, his voice tight. "Ordered him to stay away, even. Azriel's been keeping his mate a secret from us for two years now."

He could see the shock and confusion on Feyre's face as he spoke, the disbelief that her mate could have done something so thoughtless and hurtful. He couldn't blame her, really. He was still struggling to wrap his head around it himself.

It didn't make any sense to him, how Rhys could have done something like that without realizing how much it would hurt their brother. How could someone who was supposed to be a High Lord, supposed to be their leader, be so blind to the pain of those he was supposed to protect? It was baffling and frustrating and it made Cassian's blood boil.

But he didn't have time to dwell on it, not right now. Not when they had bigger problems to worry about...like the fact that Azriel had a mate, a mate he had been hiding for two whole years. He knew what a mating bond felt like, knew how all-consuming and intense it could be.

The last thing he had expected was for Mor to start laughing."What?" Cassian snapped, his temper flaring up again. "What's so funny?"

Mor’s laughter continued, her body trembling as she struggled to catch her breath. "I'm sorry," she gasped, her voice choked with mirth as she grinned at him. "It's just...it's just so Azriel. Of course, he would keep his mate a secret for two whole years.”

Cassian stared at her in disbelief, his anger giving way to confusion. "That's what you find funny?" he asked incredulously. "That our brother kept his mate hidden for two bloody years?"

He couldn't understand why Mor would find that amusing, why she was laughing at something that was supposed to be a serious and painful secret. Didn't she know how much it must have hurt Azriel to keep his mate hidden for so long, to keep his feelings for her bottled up inside? Didn't she know how hard it must have been for him to keep up the facade of being fine, of being single and alone?

He couldn't wrap his head around it, couldn't make sense of Mor's humour in the situation. All he could feel was confusion and frustration, and a deep sadness for his brother who had to keep his mating bond a secret for so long.

He had always known that Azriel was a private person, that he didn't like to share his personal life with others. But he had never known that he could keep something like this a secret for so long. It was...it was almost scary, how good Azriel was at hiding his feelings and emotions.

“You find it funny, that Azriel didn’t trust any of us with her?” Nesta asked flatly.

Mor's laughter died down at Nesta's words, her expression turning somber. "No, of course not," she said quietly. "It's just...it's just typical Azriel. He's always been so careful about guarding his emotions, about keeping his love life hidden. I never would have guessed that he had a mate, let alone for two whole years."

“I am not surprised that he didn’t tell you,” Nesta bit out. “Not as you spend 500 years using his own feelings against him.

Mor flinched at Nesta's words, her expression turning pained. "Nesta, that's...that's not fair," she protested. "I never meant to hurt him. I never wanted to."

But Nesta wasn't finished, her eyes blazing with anger as she took a step towards Mor. "You spent five centuries playing with his heart, using him like some kind of toy. And now you're surprised that he didn't tell you about his mate? After everything you've put him through?"

Mor looked down, avoiding Nesta's gaze. "I...I know that I made mistakes," she said quietly. "But I never meant to hurt him."

Nesta scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, please," she sneered. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew exactly how Azriel felt about you, and you used it to your advantage. You used him. And after the mating bond between you and Emerie snapped, you never tried to actually talk to him!“

Cassian nearly missed Rhys wincing. Nearly.

“You have anything to do with that too?” He asked darkly.

Rhys flinched at the accusation, his expression turning guilty. "I...I may have had something to do with it," he admitted quietly. "But I was just trying to help. I didn't mean..."

Cassian stared at his brother in disbelief, his anger rising up in him like a tidal wave. "You...you interfered? Again?" he hissed. “What did you tell Azriel?” He demanded.

Rhys sighed, picking a piece of invisible lint of his jacket. "I told him not to ruin this for Mor. That she went through enough.”

Cassian felt a wave of frustration wash over him at Rhys's words. "And you didn't think that maybe Azriel had enough as well?" he asked, his voice barely more than a growl.

He couldn't believe that Rhys had tried to interfere in Azriel's life again, that he had caused even more pain for their brother. And all for the sake of Mor, someone who had rejected Azriel time and time again. It was ridiculous and infuriating. 

But the more he heard…the more he understood why Azriel had kept Irena a secret. 

He had met his mate and had protected her fiercely, cossetted her away from any of them who could hurt them…had kept her to himself, so Rhys couldn’t say any other idiotic and harebrained thing…Had kept his mate to himself, because he adored her and hadn’t wanted to share. Which quite frankly, Cassian could absoltuely understand now. 

And still… Cassian knew what a mating bond could do to someone, how intense and consuming it could be. And the thought that Azriel, their quiet and reserved brother, had had to keep that kind of intensity hidden for so long...it was almost too much for Cassian to fathom.

He didn't know how Azriel had managed it, how he had kept his mating bond a secret for so long without anyone else noticing. It must have been a monumental effort, a constant struggle to keep his emotions and instincts in check.

And the fact that he had done all of that alone, without any support or understanding from the rest of them...it broke Cassian's heart. 

And Cassian himself had not made it better. How often had he teased his brother about his love life. Even, and maybe especially,  when Azriel had told him to fuck off?

Too often, Cassian realized with a pang of guilt. He had never thought about how his teasing might have hurt Azriel, how it might have added to the burden of keeping his mating bond a secret.

He had always just assumed that they were all teasing each other in good fun, that it was harmless banter between siblings. But now...now he realized that maybe it hadn't been so harmless after all. Maybe it had been something much more cruel and damaging than he had ever intended.

He wished that he could take back every comment he had ever made about Azriel's love life, every joke he had ever made about his solitude. But he knew that he couldn't, that the damage had already been done.

Cassian could just hope that he could find a way to repair things with Azriel, to make amends for all of the hurt and pain that he had unintentionally caused. He just hoped that his brother would be able to forgive him, that they could move past this and build a stronger, more understanding relationship

But deep down, a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that it might not be so easy. That the wounds inflicted by his words might run too deep to ever be fully healed.

And that thought scared him more than he cared to admit. It scared him to think that he might have forever damaged his relationship with his brother, that his careless words might have destroyed something that he had always taken for granted.

“I don’t even have the words right now,” Feyre said with a sigh.

Cassian glanced in her direction, seeing the pain and frustration written all over her face. He knew exactly what she meant. There were no words for this situation, for the hurt and confusion and betrayal that they were all feeling.

He could only imagine what Azriel must be going through right now, how much he must be struggling with his emotions and thoughts. And he had no idea how they were supposed to help him, how they could make things right again.

“I have no clue how we are supposed to fix this either,” Feyre continued.

Cassian nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over him. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Me neither."

“Leave him be,” Nesta said tightly. “He nearly lost his mate today.”

Cassian shot Nesta a sharp look, surprised by her words. "Leave him be?" he repeated. "You want to just leave him alone, after all of this?"

"He almost lost his mate today, Cassian," Nesta repeated, her voice tight with emotion. "Let him rest. Let him have some time, space. Let him have that without us bombarding him with questions and apologies."

Cassian considered her words for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of bombarding his brother with more questions right now. He already had, hadn’t he?  He knew that Nesta was right, that Azriel needed space and time to process everything that had happened. And he knew that they had already done enough damage as it was.

So he nodded, reluctantly agreeing with her suggestion. "Alright," he said quietly. "We'll give him space. For now."

He could only hope that it would be enough, that it would give Azriel the time and space he needed to heal and process everything that had happened. And he hoped, more than anything, that it would be enough for them to repair the damage that they had done to their brother's heart.

But until then, all he could do was wait. Wait and hope that someday, somehow, they could make things right again.

And in the meantime, he would try his best to be there for Azriel, to offer him support and understanding without pushing too hard. Because that was all he could do right now.

That, and wait for a chance to finally make amends for the mistakes he had made.

Because he knew that he had a lot to make up for, and he was determined to do whatever it took to earn Azriel's forgiveness. And to be a better brother from this point forward.

***

She was warm. She was safe. Azriel was holding her...and still...in the moment she first opened her eyes, all she could remember where these last few moments before.

Irena's heart raced as the memories flooded back, of Merrill's office...of how her fellow Priestess, her friend had been sniping at her the moment she entered her office.

"We need to talk, Merrill," Irena had said.

"If Meera complained, it's her own fault," Merrill had seethed. "I don't need her help anyway, I am quicker and better on my own."

And only then Irena had realised that Merrill had already been casting that spell.

"Merrill! Stop!" she had snapped. "You can't do that! It's too..." dangerous. Dangerous was what she had wanted to say. But the word stuck in her throat as Merrill chanted that spell and then...then hell broke loose.

Then the only thing she remembered was quite a lot of pain."

There was no pain now.

There was only Azriel. Only safety and warmth and the smell of cedars...she blinked open her eyes tiredly.

"Azriel," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyelids felt heavy, her body weak and boneless. But still, she felt a sense of relief wash over her as she saw him there, his arms strong and comforting around her.

She wanted to say more, to ask him if he was alright, to apologize for putting him through all of this. But she couldn't find the strength to speak, the words getting stuck in her throat. All she could do was cling to him, grateful for his presence and warmth.

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, clinging to her...and only a moment later she could feel his body shudder against her own. Shudder and the salty smell of tears

Irena's eyes widened in surprise as she realized that he was crying. She had never seen Azriel cry before, not once in all the time they had spent together. But now, he was crying, a quiet sob escaping him as he buried his face in her hair.

Her heart broke at the sound, at the vulnerability he was showing her. She raised a trembling hand to stroke his hair, her fingers tangling in the silky locks. "Azriel," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible. "It's alright. I'm here. I'm here."

She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, that she never meant to hurt him like this. But the words just wouldn't come, her mouth dry and her head still spinning. All she could do was hold him, trying to provide him with the only comfort she had the strength to give.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, clinging to each other in silence. But eventually, Azriel's tears seemed to dry up, his sobs turning into sniffles and then to deep, shaky breaths.

She felt him press another soft kiss against her forehead, his lips warm and gentle against her skin. "I thought I lost you," he whispered, his voice barely more than a broken murmur. "I thought..."

She could hear the pain and fear in his voice, and it broke her heart even more. "Shhh," she said, still stroking his hair gently. "I'm here now. I'm alright."

She could feel him nod against her, his body slowly relaxing as he held her close. "I was so scared," he whispered. "I was so scared."

She tightened her grip around him, trying to reassure him with her presence. "I know," she said softly. "But I'm here, alright? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

Never. Not when she had a single choice in that matter. 

She felt him nod again, his body finally relaxing completely against hers. 

But for now, this was enough. Just being able to hold him, to feel him pressed against her, was enough. And she hoped, with all her heart, that it was enough for him too.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain?” he asked her, his voice hoarse. “Are you…”

She looked up at Azriel, seeing the concern etched onto his features. "My abdomen hurts a little…so does my bad leg" she admitted. "But other than that, I feel fine. A little weak, but fine."

Azriel nodded, his expression still tight with worry. "Madja said that it might take a few days for you to fully recover," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But she was confident that you'll be okay."

Irena nodded, trying to smile reassuringly at him. "I'll be fine, Azriel," she said softly. "I just need some rest and I'll be good as new."

And time. Time to wrap her mind around the fact that her friend had died.

“She didn’t deserve that,” she whispered. Azriel knew what she was talking about.

“She didn’t,” he agreed softly.

“Was anybody else hurt?” Irena whispered, already hating to even contemplate it..

“Just you.”

She closed her eyes, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her. "It's all my fault," she murmured. "If I hadn't confronted her, if I hadn't..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. She could still remember the look on Merrill's face, the anger and hatred in her eyes. And she knew, deep down, that she had caused it. 

Azriel's grip on her hand tightened, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her skin. "It wasn't your fault, Irena," he said firmly. "You didn't make her do what she did. You couldn't have known that she would lash out like that."

She wanted to believe him, to let herself off the hook. But the guilt was too heavy, too all-consuming. "I should have known," she whispered, her voice choked up with emotion. "I should have been more aware, more careful."

Azriel's expression softened, his eyes full of understanding. "You can't blame yourself for this, love," he said gently. "You can't control other people's actions, no matter how much you might want to."

She knew he was right, that she couldn't keep blaming herself for what had happened. But it was hard, so hard, to let go of that guilt. "I just...I never meant for any of this to happen," she said, tears filling her eyes.

Merrill had been brilliant. And yes, she had been snappy and cruel but she had also been funny and bright and…She hadn’t been horrible. Misunderstood maybe, not very nice sometimes but she wasn’t…she hadn’t deserved to die. 

Azriel reached out, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "I know," he whispered, his voice full of tenderness. "I know you didn't."

She looked up at him, searching his face for any hint of blame or anger. But all she saw was kindness and understanding, and it almost broke her heart. "How can you be so good to me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "After everything..."

He cupped her face gently, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "Because I love you," he said simply, his eyes never leaving hers. "And nothing you can ever do will ever change that. This wasn’t your fault."

She felt a lump form in her throat at his words, her heart swelling with emotion. No one had ever loved her like this before, no one had ever made her feel so safe and cherished. 

She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing as she felt him press a soft kiss against her forehead. "I love you, too," she whispered, her voice shaky with emotion. "More than anything."

Laying in his arms, was the most peace she had ever known. 

“They know…about us,” Azriel said, exhaling softly. “I am sorry. I couldn’t…I couldn’t let them take you back to your room.”

Irena looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "They know?" she repeated. "They know about us...together?"

He didn’t need to tell her who they was. They was everybody. 

Azriel nodded, his expression serious. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I knew you didn't want anyone to know yet, but I couldn't risk them sending you back alone. You were barely conscious and..." He trailed off, his voice tight with emotion.

Irena reached out, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. "It's okay," she said softly. "I understand." And she did understand. She knew that he had only been trying to protect her, to keep her safe. And she loved him even more for it. And she had wanted to be with him. She had wanted to be held by him. It was worth it. The simple comfort of his presence was worth all the other bullshit they would need to deal with. 

Irena smiled up at him, trying to reassure him with her expression. "It doesn't matter if they know," she said. "As long as I have you, nothing else matters."

“It’s gonna be…difficult,” Azriel warned her with a grimace.

“I can deal with your brothers,” she promised him simply. She could. She did deal with them. Well, at least with the High Lord on a monthly basis. She could handle him. 

Azriel let out a laugh, shaking his head. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he warned her, but there was a slight smile playing on his lips.

She just smiled at him, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his lips. 

She would deal with whatever she needed. Because Azriel was worth it. 

“Madja should be back soon…do you want a bath?” He asked her softly, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I can ask Gwyn or Roslin to come help you.“

Irena smiled gratefully. "Yes, a bath would be lovely," she said, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her. "But just a quick one."

Azriel nodded, his expression tender as he looked down at her. "I'll go get Gwyn," he said, brushing her hair away from her face. "You just rest for a moment."

“No,” Irena said softly. “You can help me.”

Azriel's expression softened at her words, his eyes filled with warmth. "Of course," he said gently. "Anything you need." He bent down, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her towards the bathroom. His touch was careful, his steps slow and steady, as if he was afraid of hurting her.

The shadows fluttered around, filling the bathtub, pouring something or other in there until it smelled amazing.

Irena breathed in deeply, feeling the tension in her body slowly begin to ease away. The warm, lavender-scented steam filled her nose, soothing her frayed nerves and calming her racing heart. "That smells amazing," she sighed, leaning against Azriel's chest. "What is it?"

“I have no clue,” he said drily. “I don’t get bubble baths,” he said with a pointed look at the shadows. 

He put her down to sit on the edge of the enormous Bath Tub and then very carefully unwrapped the wrappings around her wounds, and her leg. The wounds were closed now, the upper layer knitted back together, but she could still feel them. 

“Can you get out of the nightgown on your own?” Azriel asked her, hesitantly. 

“Should be fine,” Irena promised. 

She watched as he turned around, giving her some privacy. She was grateful for his consideration, but at the same time, she couldn't help feeling a little sad that he wasn't even going to sneak a peek. She shook the thought away, reaching out to tug off the nightgown and carefully lower herself into the tub.

The water was warm and soothing, and she let out a soft sigh as her body sank into it. Irena closed her eyes, feeling the tension slowly drain from her muscles. "This feels amazing," she murmured, leaning back against the edge of the tub. “You can come here,“ she said with some amusement, as he still stood at the doorway, presenting his back to her. His wings were flared as wide as they could get in the bathroom, rippling as muscles seemingly twitched beneath them. 

Azriel turned back around, his expression a mix of amusement and relief. He stepped closer to the tub, kneeling down beside it. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice gentle. "I don't want to accidentally see something you don't want me to."

Irena laughed softly, reaching out to take his hand in hers. "You're too chivalrous for your own good," she teased. "But I appreciate the thought. And yes, I'm sure. Come here."

Azriel nodded, his expression softening as he moved closer to her. He gently ran his fingers through her wet hair, brushing it away from her face. The touch was tender, almost reverent, and Irena leaned into it with a contented sigh. "That feels good," she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Want me to wash your hair?” he offered her, his voice hesitant. 

Like she was ever going to turn down that offer.  Irena opened her eyes, looking up at him with a smile. "Yes, please," she said, leaning back further into the water. "I don't think I have the energy to lift my arms right now."

Azriel chuckled softly, reaching for a bottle of shampoo. He squirted a small amount into his palm before carefully working it into her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp in slow, soothing circles. The sensation was heavenly, and Irena closed her eyes again, simply enjoying the moment.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Azriel gently working the shampoo into her hair while Irena let herself relax completely. The warm water, the fragrant steam, and Azriel's gentle touch were all working together to ease away her aches and pains.

After a few more minutes, Azriel carefully rinsed her hair, his fingers tenderly brushing away any lingering soap suds. "All done," he said softly, his hands still buried in her hair. "Feeling better?"

She nodded, opening her eyes again and giving him a smile. "Much better," she said, feeling relaxed and drowsy. "Thank you."

Azriel returned the smile, his gaze full of affection. "You're very welcome, love" he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Let's get you out of here and back into bed before you fall asleep in the tub."

Irena laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "That's probably a good idea," she admitted. "I don't think falling asleep in the tub would do my injuries any favours."

He insisted on keeping his eyes closed again, but between him and the shadows, they had her dry and dressed in a nightgown quickly enough.

Azriel scooped her up again as soon as she was dressed, cradling her against his chest as he carried her back to the bed. He settled her gently onto the mattress, tucking the blankets around her before sitting down beside her.

“You know…next time…you should let me return the favour,” she said softly.

Azriel raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You want to wash my hair, huh?" he asked, his tone teasing. "Careful, I might take you up on that offer."

“You could join me in the tub,” she said softly, biting her lip.

Azriel's eyes darkened at her suggestion, his gaze intense as he looked down at her. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "I’ll have…some…bodily reaction to that,” he pointed out.

Her cheeks flushed but she kept a hold of his hand.

Irena swallowed, feeling a flutter of both nerves and excitement in her belly. But she didn't back down. "I'm sure," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want...I want to be close to you. Like that." She could see his hesitation and the faintest hint of doubt in his eyes.

But she knew that hesitation had nothing to do with lack of desire. It was simply that he was worried about her. Worried about hurting her, or pushing her too far. And she loved him all the more for it, but she also knew that she wanted this. Wanted him.

“Think about it. She said softly. “Maybe in a few weeeks?”

Azriel nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at her. "In a few weeks," he agreed softly. "When you're healed." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Let's focus on getting you better first, hmm?"

[mrsshabana]

𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐫. 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡 :･ﾟ✧

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Mr. Crawling x gender!neutral!reader, MDNI, nudity, fluff, suggestive but no smut ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.5k words. Mr. Crawling is so cute, I just had to write a fic where we take care of him. He deserves it (╥ ‸ ╥)

He followed you like a lost puppy.

The entity that clung to you like his life depended on it, refusing to return to the world in which he came from. His intentions aren't clear, but he isn't causing any harm so you had no issue with him sticking around.

Mr. Crawling was what you called him. He spoke a strange language you couldn't understand at first, but after spending so much time with him you picked it up after a while.

When you get home from work he's always so excited to see you, chirping excitedly and grinning widely at the sight of his favorite human.

As soon as you arrive he sticks to you like glue, watching you as you do mundane tasks or relax around the house.

Tonight you were making spaghetti, and Mr. Crawling seemed extra intrigued by you cooking the dish.

He peers up at the stovetop, watching as you heat up the tomato sauce. His curiosity gets the best of him as he tries to get a better view, he bumps into you. Causing the red sauce to topple over and spill all over him.

"Mr.Crawling!" you shout, "I'm so sorry!"

He just smiles and licks the sauce off of his face. Seemingly not affected by the hot temperature or the fact that it has splattered all over his clothes.

"You ok?" you ask in his language.

"Me surprise! Saturate clothes, hair, body!" he says between giggles.

You're glad he finds it funny and he's not upset. You don't know what you'd do if you ever saw Mr. Crawling cry.

But he's right, he's completely covered in sauce and his clothes will need to be washed right away.

You kneel down to his level and wipe away the excess sauce with a paper towel, "Me take care of you."

"Me grateful," he smiles wide, leaning into your touch as you clean him off.

You know this won't be enough though, he needs a bath. But you feel slightly awkward giving him one. Not that you mind caring for him, but as far as you know there isn't a word for bath or clean in his language so you don't know how to ask him if he's okay with it. And the thought of seeing Mr. Crawling naked... well you've never really considered it before. But thinking about it makes your cheeks redden and your body heat up.

First things first, after cleaning the chunks of tomato you take his hand and lead him into the bathroom before you try explaining to him.

"Um... Mr. Crawling," you mumble, "Me change you clothes. Water container. You give clothes?" You try to explain it to the best of your ability as you hold out your hand.

"Saturate clothes, water correct! Me give," he nods and takes off his clothes.

There's no embarrassment or shyness evident as he removes his clothes. Mr. Crawling is either just too innocent, or he's just so comfortable around you that he knows he has nothing to be shy or embarrassed about.

You try not to look at his body as you take his clothes. Hurried walking to the laundry room and shoving them into the machine at a rushed pace.

You know he's waiting patiently for you to return and give him his bath but you have to try to calm down first! Your creepy cute ghostly roommate is naked in your bathroom right now and you're freaking out!

Mr. Crawling may act like a pet, but this isn't like giving your dog a bath or something! Maybe it feels so strange because your relationship with Mr. Crawling isn't well-defined.

He's obviously obsessed with you and adores you in every way, but is it romantic? You aren't sure...

However, you do feel confident that Mr. Crawling wouldn't say no to being in a romantic relationship with you if you asked. Judging by how he constantly craves your affection, touch, and attention - he'd probably love it.

And you'd be lying to yourself if you ignored the feelings you had for him. Sure he's not human, but he's so sweet and genuinely cares about you.

Before you met him sometimes you felt like if you disappeared no one would care. You felt insignificant in the grand scheme of things. On lonely nights you'd question why you're even here at all. Is there even a point?

But Mr. Crawling changed all of that.

When you leave, you know Mr. Crawling is always waiting in front of the door for you to return. No matter how long it took, even if it was 100 years, he would still wait for you.

He makes you feel important for the first time in your life. Like if something happened to you he wouldn't rest until he was able to have you again - even if he spent eternity searching for you. He wouldn't stop looking for his favorite human. That's how much you mean to him.

And if that's not the definition of love then you don't know what is. Because it's obvious that Mr. Crawling loves you, and honestly you love him too.

"Mr. Crawling..." you whisper as you walk into the bathroom again.

He turns and makes that high-pitched sound he makes when he's happy.

"Water container, correct," you say, patting his head as you start the faucet.

"Me go into?" he tilts his head to the side, not sure what to do. The gesture is cute and makes you smile.

You nod, "You go into container."

Even though he's never had a bath before, he trusts you and gets into the tub. Watching in awe as his long hair floats to the surface, creating long black streaks within the water.

You can't help but blush as you look at his body. Never had you expected him to be so toned under his loose-fitting clothes. Especially his chest and arms. But it makes sense, he crawls around all day so his upper body strength has to be good, right?

Now that you're seeing him like this, you can't help but notice how long his legs are too. You've never actually seen him stand so it never occurred to you how tall he could be. Judging by how he fits into the tub, he must be taller than any person you've ever met before.

Imagine if he stood up like this...

Your thoughts drift and you get distracted, accidentally pouring loads of bubble bath into the tub instead of just a tad to keep him occupied.

"Fun! Fun!" He shouts excitedly as the tub fills with foaming bubbles, completely covering his body and overflowing from the tub.

"Shit!" you say under your breath, cursing yourself for letting those perverted thoughts sneak into your head. You can't stay mad though as you watch him giggle and play with the bubbles. Why does he have to be so freaking cute?

As he has the time of his life, you dig through the bubbles to clean him. Starting with his body and finishing with his hair. Taking over an hour to wash his hair alone.

As you clean his hair he experiments with these fluffy white things he's never seen before. Curiously eating them, sculpting them with his hands, and even putting them on you. He takes a clump of bubbles and forms them into cat ears on the top of your head.

"You cute!" he shouts excitedly.

You smile and do the same for him, "You cute!"

"We cute together!!" he smiles, having the funnest time with you.

Finally, once he's been all cleaned you help him dry off as he sits on your bathroom floor, watching curiously as the bubbles get sucked down the drain.

His clothes aren't quite done yet so in the meantime you let him wear an old pair of pajamas. They're pink Hello Kitty pajamas to be exact. Sure you had a plain black set that would do as well, but you just couldn't resist putting him in this. He looks so adorable as he crawls into the bed with you, laying on your lap as you brush his hair.

"Water container fun..." he mumbles on the edge of falling asleep, "Again again."

"Fun again," you smile, promising to give him another bath someday.

"Thank you," he nuzzles into you, "Me like you. Like you much..."

"Me like you much," you kiss the top of his head, "Me take care of you, you rest."

He doesn't want to sleep, he wants to stay up with you all night taking baths and playing with bubbles. But being in your embrace as you take care of him is just too much to resist. He hopes you'll do this again soon, or maybe you'll let him give you a bath and brush your hair next time.

He quickly drifts off to sleep, thinking about all of the fun things he wants to do with you. Meanwhile, you sit there and brush his long hair for another hour. Though you don't mind. Sitting here with him, brushing his hair as he sleeps on your lap, it doesn't get any better than this.

[no-144444]

prince charming- l.norris

summary: lando brings his niece to the ballet, who knew he'd find love?

pairing: lando norris x fem! ballerina! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Another show finished, another day done. All you had to do was meet some children and show them around the stage. It was a thing the company had decided to do after every single show, and you were one of the only ballerinas who enjoyed it. Everyone else ran out of there as fast as they could, but you stayed around, in full costume, showing them everything. 

“Y/n! Y/n! Look!” Mila, the little girl that had been assigned to you pulled on your hand and you followed her over. “It’s your Prince Charming!” She pointed at your co-star, Richard, who was playing Prince Charming while you played Cinderella. He was lovely and one of your best friends, but Mila’s face fell when she saw him kiss another girl, aka his actual girlfriend Mia. “He’s kissing someone else!” she gasped, looking at you hurt. 

You smiled. “We’re only together in the show, remember? My name isn’t Cinderella, is it?” You chuckled and she nodded, laughing. “So, that’s Richard, and he’s Mia’s real-life Prince Charming, not mine.”

She nodded understandingly. “Do you have a Prince Charming?”

You internally cringed, why did kids always want to know about your love-life? “No,” you smiled. 

Her face lit up. “OH! Perfect! Uncle Lala!” she called for her uncle to come over as your face fell. “Uncle Lala will you be Y/n’s Prince Charming so she can be my Auntie and we can have fun forever?!” 

Mila’s excited face and the ridiculousness of her statement, reminding him she truly didn’t know how the world worked, made him giggle. And with Lando, when he starts, he doesn’t stop. It took a whole minute for him to stop laughing, while you sat there awkwardly. You knew who he was, you knew why he was laughing, but it was still rude. Just say no, dude. 

“Mila, it doesn’t work like that,” he explained. “She’s way too pretty for me,” he whispered, sitting down beside her, and in front of you. 

Your eyes widened and you looked down, confused at the entire situation. 

“I know she is,” Mila answered (subtle dig at her uncle, but alright). “But you could ask her to dance or something. Princesses like dancing.”

Lando shook his head. “I’m an awful dancer.”

“Why do you just try talking to her!” Mila scoffed, then ran off to go look at some of the set of the show. 

You looked up and met his eyes and you both started laughing. “I’m so sorry about her, she gets like this sometimes,” he admitted, a slight blush on his cheeks. 

“It’s alright, it happens sometimes,” you waved him off, an easy smile on your face. 

“You get hit on through people’s nieces a lot?” he questioned. 

You chuckled. “It’s more common than you think, people love the ballerina shtick.”

He laughed. “How old are you?”

“I’m 23,” you answered. “And I’m Y/n.”

“I’m Lando,” he held his hand out to be shaken. “Nice to meet you.”

“NIce to meet you too,” you smiled, shaking his hand. “Congratulations on the year you’ve had.”

“You watch F1?”

You nodded. “My mom has been into it since she was a kid, she gave that to me, so… yeah.”

“Who’s your favourite driver?” he smirked and you chuckled. 

“Nico Hulkenberg,” you smirked. 

He chuckled. “Understandable,” he smiled, nodding. “Mila is probably off somewhere trying to destroy your set, I should probably go grab her.”

You both got up and smiled at each other. “It was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Prince Charming,” you joked, he giggled. 

And that was that. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

For the next few days, Lando could not get you out of his head. You were funny, kind, beautiful, good with Mila, everything he wanted in a person, yet he’d let you slip away. You weren’t even on social media, but he followed the company’s instagram and some of your friends to see pictures of you. He decided, once the season ended, he’d go back and find you. Maybe he really could become your Prince Charming. 

He joined the rest of the crowd in their standing ovation as you bowed, smiling brightly. He waited around and followed a few more people backstage to finally see you again. 

“Lando?” you questioned as you looked at him from behind. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you again,” he shrugged. “Happy holidays.”

You smiled. “So it is true,” your eyes shone with a hint of mischief. “You did follow the company account.”

He screwed his face up in a half-smile-half-grimace, he’d been caught. “You don’t have a public account, thought it would be weird to follow you on your private one.”

You chuckled. “I would’ve let you follow me,” you told him. “You are my Prince Charming, right?”

He beamed. “Right,” he nodded. “Dinner?”

“Let me get out of costume,” you agreed. You started to walk off and he didn’t follow, unsure what to do. You turned back and grabbed his hand. “Come on!”

He was very happy he had brought Mila to the ballet.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[nothorses]

shinigami eyes is inaccurate sometimes. that doesn't mean it's evil.

I've seen more people talking about the shinigami eyes extension lately, specifically because it seems like some "trans inclusive" radfems have been using it to incorrectly mark anyone who disagrees with their hateful rhetoric as "anti-trans".

the conclusion I see people drawing is that shinigami eyes is full of transandrophobic, exorsexist/enbyphobic, intersexist radfems using their moderation powers for evil.

that's now how this works!

shinigami eyes is crowdsourced. everyone who uses the extension can mark anyone and anything as "anti-trans" (red) or "trans-friendly" (green), or "clear" any current markings they might have.

that input is taken into account when determining how said blog/website/account/whatever shows up to everyone else using shinigami eyes, but you will see things marked the way you mark them immediately.

shinigami eyes claims to have some level of human validation involved when they determine public changes to how things are marked, but it's not clear what that looks like. looking through their (fairly inactive) github community page, I stumbled on this person asking about what to do if they've been incorrectly marked "anti-trans":

which confirms my understanding of how shinigami eyes tends to work.

basically, shinigami eyes isn't actually told why anyone marks anyone else as "safe" or "unsafe". even if/when there is "human validation", they're most likely just making their best guesses based on the information available to them: a cursory glance over the blog/account/website that was marked, and how other people have marked the same thing.

if someone's blog is incorrectly marked red, it's probably because one or more people completely unrelated to shinigami eyes moderation submitted that marking. if there was nothing near the top of that person's blog to indicate that person was vocally supportive of trans people (and not just trans themselves) if/when it was checked by a human, they likely just went with what seemed to be the safest bet.

which means if people are abusing this extension to mark folks as "anti-trans" when they're not, we can take action to fix that!

If someone is marked red/"anti-trans" when they shouldn't be, mark them "trans-friendly" yourself. then tell someone else who uses the extension to do the same. it'll update the public marking eventually.

if you are marked red/"anti-trans" when you shouldn't be, and you want to reverse that & prevent it from happening again, it might be a good idea to put something explicit in your bio- like "trans rights are human rights"- so it's front & center if and when a human at shinigami eyes checks a marking someone submitted.

there's another conversation to be had about how much people should be relying on shinigami eyes in the first place, but it's not evil. it doesn't hate you. it's not even exclusionary, historically speaking.

the one thing I will say is that there is definitely some very valid contention around this specific stance they currently hold:

I understand why they might want to avoid wading too deep into questions about what "counts" as a transphobic slur vs. what does not when it comes to intra-community issues, as a pretty public-facing tool for the trans community broadly speaking. but like, "theyfab" is a pretty explicitly exorsexist term, imo.

still, I think this should probably just be taken to their github issues board, where folks can have more of a conversation than the reviews page allows for. trying to pressure them into compliance isn't going to cut it, and our community deserves better than that anyway.

[myownconsultant]

As someone who gave my “parents” a “second chance” and moved back in with them again & again, don’t do it, if you can. I only did it because it was a quick decision, I had no real support system. I was on the verge of tears, panic attacks, and I couldn’t find shelter or anywhere else that would take me in in a short amount of time. But there’s plenty of reasons of why this is so hard to permanently cut ties in the first place, and I’m not going to get into all that..but if you’ve never had to deal with these types of parents you would never understand, and if you’re not gonna help the person get out of the situation safely & actually support them fully, and not demonize them, then you have no say, no right to judge, and should be minding your business. Yes, I’ve realized we all have that choice to make, and sometimes you may need to trust strangers, but that’s not easy either, let’s all try to give each other grace no matter what peoples situation is. The last I want to feel is a burden, so it was easier to decline offers, (most are working w/ your family / parents so you gotta be careful) ofc I didn’t/don’t want to rely on abusive/toxic people anymore. And if you’ve had parents like mine, you would know that you can’t even talk to them about any problem or about moving out without them trying to sabotage it or getting angry, pretending to help, only to go back to putting your life in danger again. Then if you’ve ever gone no contact or tried to cut them off, they will get revenge on you, in my case they thought it was justified. 🤷🏻‍♀️ So yes it’s really that easy and your life will be a walk in the park after, anything but that..This sh*t is hell and I pray we all find a way to cope and move forward.

[binomech]

Grasping at straws: Thoughts about Viktor's disability in Arcane

Disclaimer: In this post I try to give it some credit to Arcane writing from within the narrative. This is a Watsonian interpretation, not a Doylist one. Assume that underneath all of this I am beating Riot with LeGuin tomes.

Bootstraps and Denial

We get a glimpse into Viktor’s sense of self while he’s talking Jayce down from the ledge in S1A1E3: He is extending a sense of kinship to Jayce, who has just been stripped of his research equipment and autonomy by the Council when they relegate him to the care of his mother. He also considers the fact that he’s a faculty assistant in Piltover something he worked hard for, that was awarded to him despite his disability and immigrant status. His visible physical disability, accent, name, are all class signifiers that he must reject and dismiss if he wants funding, accommodation and recognition and it points to Piltover only allowing Zaunites as both a PR token and only if they reject enough of their Undercity culture. This is crucial: Viktor did not earn his position because he worked hard and believed in himself, he was rewarded for assimilating.

Becoming a Specimen

All of Viktor’s screentime in S1 takes place in Piltover to the exceptions of his visits to Singed, both in his childhood flashback and his adult visit to request help with the Hexcore experiment. Two things stand out to me in these interactions: The traumatic experience of being valued as a specimen, and the scrambling to the top of the ivory tower as a response to said trauma. He meets Singed and Rio in the immediate aftermath of a fall caused by his leg’s angle while he kept track of a device he built, a reminder that it would be the defining feature of his career, not his creations. Rio is shown to him as a lively, yet dying, specimen that must be preserved because it is a mutant, because it is defective and that defect makes her extremely valuable. I can understand how a young Viktor would latch onto the idea of saving something because it is faulty and project, and how finding Rio effectively dead and her body used for profit ended in an understanding that defects are only good if you can exploit them in some way, it’s not you, as a person, that they want. Conceptualizing a Viktor that is dead set on convincing the world that his work is important in and of itself goes through understanding that he sees his visible disability as both a hindrance and a weakness to exploit from the Piltover Academy.

Jayce encourages Viktor to do PR for Hextech with him several times, and right before the Progress Day speech, just as Viktor has had a coughing fit and is sitting down to rest his leg, Viktor says he doesn’t want to be seen as his partner, not in front of “them” (them being Piltover’s aristocracy). Viktor sees in Hextech a chance to leave a scientific legacy, and Jayce’s partnership is a way to keep the funds coming without his disability being an issue for investors. He believes in his partnership and Hextech as a joint endeavor between him and Jayce, but he knows what happens when Piltovans see a disabled Zaunite in any position threatening their hegemony. The catch here is that Viktor’s experience with Rio makes it so that this is not so much political awareness, as much as it is an avoidance so hard it loops back to agreeing with the oppressor, just to live a little more, just to make sure the world sees what you did.

When Viktor is diagnosed with Sump disease, a terminal condition caused by overexploitative mining and industrial pollution caused by Piltover’s factories and production exports, the sequence plays alongside an investor PR campaign from Jayce. It’s Viktor, who is already disabled, losing his place in the legacy of Hextech because he is dying at the hands of those who made it possible financially. It’s this Viktor, who sees his hopes of being remembered for his inventions dwindling, desperately going back to Singed and saying “I understand the value of the specimen. If rejecting my personhood buys me time, I will be what they want to see: A cripple, a corrupted Zaunite, a man desperate for power.”

The Hexcore has been trained to heal the subjects it’s used on, but Viktor was the one to train it: He was the one to determine what parts of the subject were considered sicknesses and flaws. To the degree that the Hexcore is, in many ways, a reflection of Viktor’s understanding of disease. It targeting his leg on first deliberate connection is a reflection of intent and desire more than any kind of agency from the device. Sky being used as fuel for the Hexcore’s learning is a point of contention for Viktor at that point because it’s the meeting point of the specimen and the scientist: Some lives are expendable if it means furthering your goal, and your life is the most expendable one. Are you ready to kill, be killed, for legacy? And Viktor panics because he is back, he’s looking at Rio’s corpse, born and raised for dying. Suicide for him at this point is an out, an unhealthy way of trying to go back to when he still had a choice. He asks Jayce to destroy the Hexcore and let him die because at that point he is still capable of dying without becoming a resource.

The Horror of Bioethics

Season 2 for Viktor is him becoming a specimen: Not a person, but a tool used to pave the road to a goal. In this case, Noxus’ acquisition of Hextech weaponry (which Viktor opposed ethically in Season 1, as he becomes the weapon itself in Season 2). He is resuscitated using the Hexcore against his will, a Hexcore containing both Viktor’s inputs for non-human healing and Sky’s research on applying those principles to the human body. He is a machine trained to heal, and he leaves for Zaun not under Viktor’s orders, but under the maxim to heal. He sees the widespread health issues caused by people that Viktor was bootlicking in Piltover, the direct result of him helping care for Rio until she died and was used to synthesize Shimmer as a drug, and where Viktor avoided his association with Zaun, the Hexcore resorts to the inputted instructions: Fix what we have established is broken. Viktor, who rejected his own disability, who rejected his home, his personal history, taught this thing to target the disabled, to target the poor, to target the sick. It is horrifying. The script presents it as vaguely unsettling but well-intentioned when it is blatant eugenics brought on by the loss of autonomy of a disabled man; the horror of it is not the cult, it’s knowing that all of this healing comes from someone having assimilated emotionally, politically, and physically, into his oppressors. It is not Viktor helping Zaun from the inside, it is Piltover’s allegedly meritocratic hellscape grafted onto Zaunites.

Who is allowed to be disabled?

Now, Jayce’s journey in the post-Hextech apocalyptic world is shown as a climb up from the Sump into the top of the Hexgates’ tower, almost reminiscent of Viktor’s journey as he understands it: You’re in a pit with a broken leg, in pain, hungry, desperate and you climb because it’s that or accepting death. You hope whatever is up there was worth the climb, but it’s a leap of faith. It’s remarkable, in contrast, how Jayce’s understanding of that climb is shaped by his own socioeconomic background. Viktor reaches the top and is punished for it, Jayce reaches the top and comes to an enlightened understanding. Viktor grows up disabled and is punished for the climb, Jayce acquires a disability during war time and he becomes the scientist-politician-hero. I appreciate how Jayce, upon encountering Viktor, fully armored even in his mind, can see a back brace, a leg brace, strained tendons. But it is also why a terminal illness resulting from Piltover’s economic chokehold on Zaun is conflated with a visible congenital disability, while they are manifestly not the same: This is a Viktor who got absorbed into Piltover’s vision of legacy, this is a Jayce who has grown up in it.

Legacy? What legacy?

In his final shot with Jayce as they erase the rune-stone, Viktor’s right leg is curving inwards, implying his femoral anteversion is something that he has finally incorporated into his perception, which was absent in every previous shot of this realm. Viktor's acceptance is for his own body, yes, but also for the consequences of giving up on it and dying.

This story as it is presented to us is a tale of avoiding annihilation through denial of one's limitations. While it's not a story that I enjoy, it is the one we were given. My hope is that through understanding it we can all tell better stories about disabled people.

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hii, I LOVE UR FICS!! 🫶🫶🫶 so i was wondering what would caitvi do when their S/O was on their period 🤔🤔 (idk if this is PG-13 😭)

Love, anon

Hi! Yes, this is perfectly PG-13. Thanks for requesting!

Shark Week | CaitVi x Reader

╰┈��� PLOT: Headcanons of CaitVi with a S/O on their period!

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: No Y/n, Not Proofread, No Spoilers(S2)

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

– Caitlyn and Vi are understanding when their partner is on their period. The pair gets them too so they know how excruciating periods can be emotionally and physically.

– If you're the person who gets cramps really badly to the point where it makes you nauseated or cry, they're always there to provide for you.

– They give you medicine, home remedies, heating pads, and tons of cuddles if you want them. One of them always has a hand on your abdomen when you cuddle. They think it's comforting to have their hand there and honestly, the touch from them and the warmth from their hand is so you never told them to pull away.

– (Unless you were in so much pain that you didn't want to be touched).

– Vi and Caitlyn get you whatever snack you need when you're on your period.

– Let's say you're a huge fan of chocolate, on and off your period, so the girls get you a small basket of all the chocolate they could find or your favorite just because they know it soothes you.

– Maybe you like spicy food instead on your period. Caitlyn finds that a bit strange since spicy foods typically make cramps worse... but they get you spicy food anyway.

– If you're the type of person who gets really emotional on their period, Vi and Caitlyn understand and try not to rock the boat too much or lend an understanding ear.

– Maybe a commercial with a puppy in it made you burst into tears or maybe the kitchen cabinet didn't close the right way so you exploded into a rage and cussed the cabinet out. Either way, they don't judge and always try to talk you down from your rage or ease you when you're crying.

– Of course, the two of them look at each other in a mix of fear and concern when you get ridiculously angry over inanimate objects, but they keep their comments to themselves. (Or at least wait till you aren't in the room to talk about it).

– When you three are out and about or working and your period comes unexpectedly, somehow, they're always prepared.

– Caitlyn never leaves the house without some period products on her. One time a cute girl needed a pad the day Caitlyn didn't have one in her bag and she's regretted it ever since. So in addition to pads, she keeps tampons and liners in her bag too.

– If you're the one to use a cup, she'll only have a brand-new one still packaged in her bag but only when you guys aren't home for days at a time. Otherwise, you gotta deal with the pads and tampons.

– If you're out and you bleed through, Vi is the first to see (if you don't spot it first) and will guide you to a different room to change. The girl will literally give you the pants off her legs to help you out. She doesn't care.

– Obviously, she can't walk around in public with no pants on, no matter how much you and Caitlyn loved her legs, so you would decide on using her jacket as a coverup instead.

– Around shopping centers or stores, they won't hesitate to buy you a new pair of underwear, pants, and more period products when you bleed through.

– If you're at their workplace, they already have a few extra pair of clothes because sometimes, they bleed through too

– And if you're at home, they'll just tell you kindly if you didn't spot it first.

– If your period stained the sheets, hey it happens sometimes, they'll clean the sheets without a problem.

– Honestly, CaitVi are really understanding about periods and won't ever judge. (Unless you're being a little mean to the sink faucet because it's not getting hot quick enough).

– Another thing they like to do with you is cuddle up with your favorite snacks and what whatever movies you want to see. If you have no movies in mind, then you three would find movies that sound interesting.

– You always fall asleep first if the pain isn't too much to bear. You couldn't help it.

– You were warm, fed, well cared for, and cuddled in the comfort of your bed surrounded by your girlfriends who would do anything to make sure you're happy.

WC: 716

[the-nyanguard-party]

why would someone need a dictatorship to move away from captialism that makes no sense

marxists understand that all states are necessarily dictatorships of a given class. the word dictatorship here isn't about the particular constitution of the state but indicates that a given class exerts political power at the expense of another.

the state is an organ of class rule. it develops out of the antagonisms between different classes in society. under capitalism, the bourgeoisie necessarily exploits the proletariat, the two classes have interests that contradict each other. in order to stay in power, the bourgeoisie needs a state. if the proletariat overthrows the bourgeoisie, they need a state to stop them from trying to get back to power.

when we talk about dictatorship of the bourgeoisie, we are referring to states ruled by the bourgeoisie as a class. "western-style" liberal democracies are still dictatorships of the bourgeoisie, serving the interests of capitalism and oppressing the working class.

the counterpart to this is the dictatorship of the proletariat, that is a state ruled by the proletariat as a class. as a rule socialist states are in fact organized as democracies with popular participation, where the interests of the working class actually translate to state policy, as opposed to bourgeois so-called democracies

under socialist states, the working class are freed from the dictatorship of the bourgeoisie and gain control of society. the state then is used to stop the capitalists from taking power away from the working class and restoring their exploitation by capitalism. if they don't try to restore capitalism they're mostly fine, they just don't get to freely exploit people as they please, and the means of production that are owned by them are taken by the state to serve the whole of society rather than private profit.

as socialism develops and eliminates the possibility for exploitation, the state becomes obsolete, it loses its function of exerting the domination of one class over another since separate classes no longer exist, and ceases to be a state. this is a long process that takes time and can only be achieved at a global scale

[dissapointu]

hiii can i request a fic of the reader having a crush on viktor but theyre too dense to realize that viktor reciprocates the feelings so they try setting him up with someone but viktor only wants them? <3

“Just a bit Dense” (viktor x reader)

You had always been the kind of person who focused on fixing others rather than yourself. Whether it was patching up bruises or tweaking machines, you were always the one in the background, quietly doing what you could. Viktor, however, was the one constant in your life, the one person whose intelligence and determination captivated you. He was kind, brilliant, and compassionate, and he had always taken the time to notice the small things about you.

But you didn’t see it. You were too thick-headed to realize Viktor’s subtle glances, the small touches that lingered just a bit too long, or the way he leaned toward you during conversations. You were too busy convincing yourself that you were just friends—just colleagues. That’s what you told yourself every time your heart fluttered at his smile, or when your face grew warm after a few too many innocent exchanges.

You noticed, of course, the way others seemed to admire Viktor too. His brilliance, his charm—how could anyone not? And that’s why you had a plan, an idea that had been brewing for weeks: if Viktor was going to be swept off his feet by someone, it might as well be someone who would appreciate him like he deserved.

So, you decided to play matchmaker.

One evening, while you two were working late in the lab, you casually mentioned someone you’d been thinking about. “You know, Viktor, I met someone today,” you said, carefully watching his reaction. “They’re really nice, and I think you’d get along great.”

Viktor paused, his pen still in hand, his attention fully on you. “Is that so?” His voice was soft, almost amused. “And who might this person be?”

You described them, knowing full well Viktor wasn’t quite as perceptive about relationships as you were. “They’ve got this brilliant mind, and they share so many of your interests. I think you two would make a perfect pair.”

Viktor set his pen down and looked at you, his eyes sharp with an intensity you didn’t understand. “I see.” There was a moment of silence as he watched you, and you couldn’t help but shift under his gaze. “But… what if I’m not interested in them?”

You froze, blinking. “Oh, come on, Viktor, don’t be shy. You’re a great catch. They’re a great catch. I’m just trying to make sure you’re happy.” You laughed nervously, your heart racing as you shifted in your seat. You weren’t sure what to expect, but Viktor’s reaction didn’t seem to match the excitement you’d imagined.

He leaned back in his chair, his hands folding together, his lips curling into a faint smile. “You’re quite the matchmaker, aren’t you?” He leaned in a little closer. “But the thing is… I’m not interested in anyone else.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

Viktor’s smile softened, and for the first time that night, you saw something in his gaze that you had never noticed before—something almost shy, but incredibly sincere. “I’m only interested in you,” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the warmth that spread across your cheeks.

You blinked a few times, your mind racing. “Wait, what? Me?” You couldn’t fathom what he meant. “But… I’m just your friend, Viktor…”

He shook his head slowly, leaning forward now with a hint of vulnerability that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re more than that to me. I’ve been trying to show you for some time, but… you seem to be rather dense about it.”

You were caught off guard. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. All the times he’d touched your arm, the gentle conversations late into the night, the way his eyes lingered on you—it all clicked in your head like a jigsaw puzzle finally coming together.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out, and Viktor chuckled softly, reaching out to gently brush your cheek with his fingertips. “It’s alright, my dear. I know it’s a lot to process. But I’m not looking for anyone else. Just you.”

Your mind raced, but your heart… your heart was already telling you what you wanted, even if your brain was still catching up. You bit your lip, feeling like an idiot for not realizing sooner. “I’m sorry, Viktor. I didn’t… I didn’t realize…”

Viktor smiled, a mixture of amusement and warmth in his eyes. “It’s alright. I’ll give you some time to process it.” He pulled back slightly, but not entirely, his gaze still focused on you with an intensity that made your heart flutter. “Just know that I’m not going anywhere.”

The weight of his words settled in, and you finally allowed yourself to breathe again. Maybe you were a bit dense, but with Viktor, you knew you were safe to be a little slow to realize the obvious. And in that moment, it felt like the world was finally in place.

Viktor had always been the one who patiently pieced things together—his machines, his plans, and now, maybe… your heart.

[meimei-archives]

BODY PARTY!:: rafe cameron

WARNING! ::professional boxer! Rafe , blood, fighting, rough sex, marking, slight public sex, manager! reader, man handling, oral.

SUMMARY! :: after yet another win for Rafe you insist on cleaning his cuts after a shower leads to the both of you celebrating in a completely different way than expected.

You were front row watching Rafe, the smell of sweat and stale concession stand food almost made you feel nauseous if it wasn't for the way he was bouncing on the tips of his feet waiting for his opponent to tap gloves with him, clenching his teeth against his mouth guard showing off his prominent and sharp jawline.

Once and a while you could see his sharp eyes flicker from the referee and the guy he was facing. In the front row dressed all pretty, wearing one of the necklaces he had gifted to you and a cute small dress was you; his manager. He knew people didn't take him seriously because of how polite and pretty you were. They expected easy losses out of him, but if they saw how lenient you were during his training sessions or before his matches they'd understand you weren't just some airhead.

He watched as you gave him a bright smile and a thumbs up. He couldn't help the smirk on his lips. "Who's that? She's something ain't that right Cameron?" His opponent laughed at the sly comment while his greedy eyes never left your figure. Rafe felt his brow twitch at the words "watch your mouth" he said sternly as he felt heat on his skin from sheer annoyance.

"That's your play thing Cameron?" The man asks with a scoff, Rafe knew he was trying to be funny; trying to get to his head, but he's done this way too many times to even let it get under his skin. That wasn't going to stop him from ripping whoever this guy was apart and going back to his hotel with double the money he came in with. Not even bothering to answer him he knocks gloves with him and steps back while the ref signals the bell to chime.

You prepped Rafe for this, he knew what he was getting into when he signed to fight the boy who was about a year or two older than him, he was much newer to fighting in the ring which was just an advantage. But since Rafe had been doing this since he graduated high school he was much more experienced with the fighters, and the atmosphere. You could only count how many losses Rafe has had on one hand and you knew for a fact that Rafe wasn't going to fly all the way from North Carolina to Brooklyn without putting in the work for a show.

The both of them circling around the ring with raised gloves nearing to exchange punches. You could never understand how Rafe took a punch like it was nothing, almost like he enjoyed taking the hits, because it did nothing but push him to hit back harder. Rafe always knew how to get the crowd going, he would fight at least two rounds before absolutely running through his opponent until they gave up or it was a K.O regardless every time he did it he always had a crowd coming back for another fight.

He was on his 2 minute break in between rounds, the cutmen sitting him in his corner as he poured water into his hair and mouth letting the water spill into a metal bucket coming out pink, putting Vaseline on his cuts that were starting to bleed out. Rafe usually would've dropped his opponent by now, he was a shit talker and Rafe just let anything he heard go from one ear out the other, and it was usually the same bullshit.

'You can't fight' or 'your good looks won't save you' and Rafe never took it to heart because it's the same people talking that are being knocked on their ass and being wheeled back to their locker rooms. But this guy, no. He was bringing you into this, and Rafe had no reason to give him any remorse especially when he was being straight up vile and gross.

When they were both called back into the center Rafe could feel the sweat and water build up on his neck and shoulders. Rafe watches his opponent as if he was waiting for the right moment to send him to the ground, holding up his fist damn near ready to pounce on the guy who was just as tall if not a few inches taller than Rafe, blonde and tattoos all over his skin that nobody could miss.

Rafe couldn't miss the smirk on his lips as he sauntered towards him throwing sloppy and lazy punches that were barely even landing "you think your girl would wear that dress for me when I get her in bed?" He asked, huffing out almost slurring his words. Rafe could only clench his fist feeling a wave of straight anger wash over him completely. Cocking his hand back and letting one loose right to the center of the blonde's face he didn't stop as he saw him drop to the floor.

Straddling over his hips Rafe didn't hesitate to keep the hits going, one after the other people in the crowd almost shocked at how he wasn't letting up regardless of how you could tell the man under him was knocked out. "The fuck is he doing? He's gonna throw the match" you could hear Topper just a seat away looking almost stressed watching his friend use his opponent like a personal punching bag.

When the referee pulled at his shoulder Rafe finally pulled away with the deepest glare you've ever seen on his face, his gloves stained a crimson shade as he backed away from the unconscious and bloody man on the floor. Waiting to see if the man could beat a simple 10 count and get back to his feet but failed Rafe's hand was raised in all its glory as they announced his win.

The warm and sticky blood that gathered in small chunks at his hairline, and split lip, and dark bruises on the corner of jaw and the expanse of his back and shoulders began to bloom while sweat was dripping off his body. He stood in the middle of the ring as his publicity team swarmed in with congratulations and after party plans.

Leaving the small barricades that separated the crowd and the ring you find yourself going through the ropes and inside the squared ring filled with your coworkers and friends. Smiling as you near him, the copper smell of blood and hints of sweat filled your lungs as you can feel the mat underneath your feet shake from the jumping and cheering Rafe stood with a similar smile holding open his arms for you to hug him.

Regardless of his sweat seeping through the fabric of your dress or how warm all over you felt under his embrace you mumble words of encouragement "you did good, I'm proud of you. But you gotta stop losing your temper" you shake your head grasping his wrist that rested on your lower back comfortably.

Lifting over both of your heads you both face the crowd with smiles as you knew the both of your faces would be in the tabloids by the next morning, but from all the yelling and talking over other people you could feel a headache coming. Though it didn't matter much as you, Rafe, and the rest of your team decided to retreat back to his locker room.

Being stopped along the way by the press asking him questions, his heavy arm around your waist as he smiles and answers the simple questions, answering a few questions yourself as you hold Rafe's gloves under your arm you could feel his eyes practically burn through you when it was your turn to speak.

The both of you are making into the less busy locker room a few of his friends sticking around to make plans. Rafe sat on the padded bench as he looked at his taped up hands and wrist, he could feel dried up blood building up at his hairline and the small split on the middle of his lip starting to become sore.

You sit down beside him as Kelce and Topper talk about plans of a dinner or a get-together later tonight in celebration, but you could tell that Rafe wasn't really listening. Your brows scrunch together as you see him picking at the tape trying to unravel it and his silence was slowly becoming apparent. "You guys wanna give us a minute? I'll call you if we need anything" you mumbled to them as they eye their friend worriedly the youngest nodded.

They retreat to the door "we're gonna head back to the hotel, if you do decide to go out tonight just give me a call" Kelce mumbles before closing the door behind them. The silence in the room starts to get louder, your mouth opens but your words die in your throat seeing him finally getting the dingy tape off his skin and releasing a sigh.

Tossing the blood stained adhesive into the trash he walks further into his locker room towards his shower , you could hear the water hitting the tile and small grunts and winces of pain as he cleans off the blood and cuts off his body with soap and water. You space out for a while and let Rafe think in peace, you knew he would tell you whatever was on his mind sooner or later.

But once he finally finished showering you watched him walk back into the main area the cuts on his face still fresh and bleeding, it bugged you. His towel low on his hips, and his hair clean and messily slicked back with a few thin strands falling in his face. "You want me to clean your cuts so we can get out of here faster?" You ask quietly, watching him sit in a metal chair that sits in front of a long mirror. Shrugging at your question, you took your chance.

Opening the nearest locker you find a mini first aid kit, seeing everything you need inside you sit on the floor beside the leg of the chair and open a small pack of cotton pads, and rubbing alcohol. The smell alone made both of your faces scrunch as you lean close to his face attempting to find the cuts covered in dried blood.

"You wanna tell me why you beat that dude's face in?" You ask as you gently swiped away at the cut on the corner of his forehead that made him shut his eyes tightly at the stinging pain. "Doesn't matter," he said as his hands tightened around the edges of his seat. "It does if you almost threw a match because of it. I don't get why all of a sudden you're being your normal self, and next thing you know you are bashing his face in" you huff.

You and Rafe have gone over things with his anger and little to none patience, Rafe has moved past being provoked and talked down to, and ever since you've never seen him lose his cool like that up until now. "Even if it's something dumb, you know you can tell me right?" You ask as you discard the bloody cotton pad.

Sighing Rafe caves as he opens his eyes to meet your gaze "he was talking about you" he mumbled. His voice is gruff and frustrated, you can tell he was getting angry just rethinking about it. "What?" You were confused, what could have possibly set Rafe off about you? "He was talking about sleeping with you, just being disrespectful and shit" he rolled his eyes.

You scoff "you got mad about that?" You ask which makes his brows furrow at the question "of course I'm gonna get mad y/n, we work together. I know you personally, and I'm not gonna let somebody talk about you like that" he said, you could feel the heat radiating off of his skin as he spoke. "You shouldn't. You have more to worry about than some dude talking shit" you say picking up another pad and putting alcohol on it, you tilt his chin looking at his cuts.

"Well I do. I don't like when people talk about you in any way, you just do your job and you get shit on for no reason" he explains which makes you roll your eyes yet look to meet his gaze as you feel him stare into your soul. "It's a part of my job. I knew what I signed up for, even if you don't like it that's not gonna keep people from doing it. Don't get so worked up over it" you shake your head at him.

The silence in the locker room was becoming overbearing, holding a strong glare. Rafe was not listening to a single word you had to say, he didn't care if this was your job or not, you don't deserve that. His bruised hand reaching your jaw, his thumb drawing comforting circles on your skin "you don't deserve that, that's why I'm so worked up over it. You've been around since my first match, were roommates. I know everything there is to know about you, so why would I not get upset over shit like that?" He asks but more rhetorically.

"Your job is to fight Rafe, not bash people's heads in because of a stupid friend" you mumbled, shaking your head showing your disapproval once more, you move his hand to clean up his cuts once more. "You're not just a stupid friend" he scoffs. "I am, the only thing I really do is look out for your schedule, your P.R interviews and shit. Nothing special" you let out a small chuckle under your breath. Standing him to your full height

Rafe's eyes never leave your face as he pulls at your wrist moving it away from his face, his hand that once cupped your jaw pulls you in, Rafe closing the remainder of space between you both as his soft lips press to yours. You felt like you had been shocked, you didn't move for what felt like seconds until you pulled away and blinked rapidly. "I don't want you to be just some stupid friend or manager to me" he whispered.

You huff out a sigh before leaning back in and pressing your lips to his, being more confident with your actions your hands find themselves raking through his hair tugging it softly, groaning against your lips.

Letting out a small groan, Rafe's hand makes way to the fabric of your dress, clutching it in his fist and pulling your hips closer against him sends him into a small daze.His tongue now licking a stripe on your bottom lip begging for access, parting your lips, his tongue immediately brushing against yours, mixing your saliva. As you suck on his tongue the remnants of blood and mint. Realizing what the both of you are doing you pull away "we shouldn't be doing this" you say.

Your foreheads pressed together and noses grazing each other, Rafe shakes his head "I don't care about all of that right now" he slurs feeling the weight of the punches and kicks he had taken. Kissing at the corner of your lip smudging your lipgloss.

Rafe has always been professional with you, outside of work you two are like the best of friends, this was a line you had never thought to cross said line, but the feeling of his lips against yours made you feel fuzzy. You didn't care about the line anymore and both of you are now toppling over it. "I just want you" he mumbled as he pressed his nose against your; eyes clouded with an unknown feeling.

You smile lazily as you lean into him, giving him a chaste kiss. You both smile like kids as you pull apart. His hands trail from the bunched up fabric of your dress to your thighs pulling them apart "sit" he whispers making you nod and blink dreamily as you choke back a whimper at the sheer friction between his thighs and your pussy.

Arching your back until your chests press against each other, hands all over each other touching any part of each other that possibly could be in this position. Rafe couldn't help but grind up against you as the warmth of your core rubs against the throbbing bulge held behind his towel, the fabric running against the both of you earning a moan.

Pressing your lips against Rafe eager to steal ever last breath out of his lungs as your hands grip at his hair. Rafe doesn't hide his needs as his hands slide all around your body anywhere he could reach. Moaning against each others lips Rafe presses his forehead against yours as you both part panting against each other.

"You really wanna do this here?" He asks huskily turning you on even more. "I don't care if we did it in the car I just want you Rafe" you whisper against his lips making him smile, feeling on top of the world at your response. Rafe knew his feelings for you were beyond just Manager and client, but he knew to never go beyond that. But right now... he really didn't give a damn.

Pulling the tight skirt of your dress over your ass until it bunches at the waist, his palms Slide Over the soft skin as your lace panties; wet and sticky cover everything he's craving at the moment. Groping and kneading the skin harshly making you moan as your hips press down against his once again, his hands guide you against his towel covered lap.

Biting your lip harsh enough you could almost break flesh. "You think you can cum like this for me?" He asks sending shivers up your spine thinking of rutting yourself against the dirty blonde haired man until you hit your peak "mhm" you respond giving a small nod choking up your words with whimpers.

Your arms slink around his shoulder as you rest your head against the nape of his neck letting stimulation get the best of you. The fabric of your panties rubbing against your clit makes you feel utterly dizzy. "Just like that, you feel good?" He asks under his breath landing a harsh slap against your ass making you moan louder "feels so good" you whimper "you make me feel good Rafe" you moan as your hips recoil into his as the tension in your stomach grows.

Rafe could feel a wet patch of your slick deep through the towel over his hard cock making him bite his lip in satisfaction. He could see how much faster your hips are grinding into him showing how close you were to cumming, Rafe wraps his arms around your waist pressing your chest tightly to his as he grinds up against you.

The sound of the chair scraping against the concrete floors is almost background sounds to the both of you too wrapped up in getting your much wanted orgasm. "You're gonna make me cum" you whine as your eyes shut tightly and your eyebrows scrunch together "yeah? Do it" he says sternly making you shutter as your jaw slacks at the overwhelming feeling "fuck" you sob as your nails dig into Rafes back.

Hissing at the feeling Rafes hips come to a stop, his hands rub your thighs as they slightly shake. "You okay?" He asks with an airy laugh at your fatigued face that pulls away from his body "yeah, just give me a second" you whisper coming down from your high as the constant throbbing between your thighs starts.

Pulling yourself out of his lap your knees buckle feeling like jelly, you lower yourself fully until your knees press into the harsh concrete, not minding it much your hands trail over the white towel tucked around Rafes waist, looking up at him with soft eyes "you don't have to do anything" he speaks up and it makes you smile. This was the considerate and caring Rafe you had always known, never selfish and always seeking just a smidgen of approval from anyone he could when he could.

"I want to do this with you, nobody else" you say as your fingers brush against the skin of his lower stomach as they hook over the tightly wrapped towel. You were eager, the new found feeling was overstimulating in all the right ways. Pulling the fabric away from his lap now completely exposed to the cold air Rafe shivers, he doesn't know if it's from excitement or the decrease in temperature but either way he felt like he was in heaven.

The way your hands travel over his thighs makes his breath get caught in his throat, your eyes rake over his body with a look he's never seen on your face but regardless he loves it. you wet the palm of your hands with your tongue before taking his cock into your fist, slowly jerking and teasing the tip with your thumb.

His head falls back with no support from the chair he mutters out "fuck" as his hands grip at the towel underneath him. And when you finally put him in your mouth, finally swallow down the already there taste of him on your tongue—you both let out a moan. Can feel the top half of him shift like his head has fallen back, an image of his beautifully parted mouth hung open, eyes screwed shut in pleasure has you moaning against him again; your body on fire, your pussy aching.

You match the pumps of your hand with the drag of your mouth up and down his dick. Swirl your tongue around the head and suck when you reach it. Let yourself go as far as your gag reflex will let you until you're gagging around him and he's cursing and digging his nails into the side of the chair once again.

And when you steal a glance to the side you can see how red his knuckles look from the death grip he has the towel. How his fingers twitch and hand runs along his thigh, acting as if he wants to touch you but not daring to. You steal another glance up at him, "oh fuck" tumbling from his lips when your eyes meet; he looks so desperate in the moment. He didn't want release, he needed it, Rafe had never been a begging man but in the moment Rafe would do just about anything to cum.

you keep your nose pressed into the skin of his pelvis until you physically can't, pulling off of him with a loud pop. your cheek is wet with tears, and your chin is slick with spit, the two coalescing at the tip into a sticky mess.

the sight makes him twitch in your hand, because this is what he's been dreaming of. This was his selfish wish, to see you below him with this expression. eyes all doe-eyed and desperate. But it also doesn't take Rafe much time before he lets his eyes flutter shut his hips now slowly bucking into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of your throat closing around him tightly.

he can't help but to reach out and rub the heavy pad of his thumb over your parting lips, pressing the salty digit flat against your tongue, and retreating it in the same breath to hook it around your cheek.

a string of profanities leave his lips. he's close, and you can tell by the way he begins to fuck into your face with a slight roughness. to guide him there, you begin to hollow your cheeks and narrow your throat, using a single hand to massage his thigh digging your nails into his skin.

he can feel you start to get riled up, and when you start to scratch and claw at his thighs for air, that does it for him. with a final, lazy thrust, he releases the entirety of his load down your throat, keeping you pressed down on him until he's sure every last bit has been spilled.

Pulling away slowly, your breathing uneven and filled with small coughs and hiccups, your hand rests on his scratched up thighs, Rafe looks at you with nothing but lust. Your swollen lips, your mascara staining your cheeks, his hand cupping your jaw to bring you close his nose brushing against yours as your heavy breathing mixes with his.

"You're so fucking beautiful" he grumbles as he presses his lips against yours harshly parting your lips with his tongue messily running yours against his. Slowly without breaking the kiss Rafe moves himself out of the chair, his own knees feeling a slight sting at the feeling. Guiding you down to your back as the kiss grows more hungry as he grinds his bare cock against your panties growing frustrated at the very little skin on skin contact, his hands settling on your upper thighs slither until his hands are underneath the fabric of your dress.

His fingers find the elastic band of your panties finally pushing them down your thighs and past your ankles where he recklessly tosses them out of his way to only who knows where. Your dress being the only obstacle left he pulls the zipper tugging your arms through the sleeves easily he damn near rips you dress off at the seems just to see your body in all its glory. He doesn't take his eyes off of you not even for a second his eyes follow every dip and curve with the most adoration one could hold in their gaze and it makes you feel warm.

His eyes rake over you from top to bottom as his eyes latch onto the sight of your thighs glistening in slick. He hissed through his teeth absentmindedly his hand gently travels between your thighs as his thumb presses between your slit making friction with your sensitive clit making you whine at the feeling. His hand leaving your body he takes his length into his own hand gripping himself.

"You look so good like this" He says as he presses his tip against your slit teasingly sliding against it as it makes a slick sound as your essence covers his tip and shaft, dipping his tip into your entrance Rafe sucks in a deep breath as he pushes into you groaning at the feeling of your tight walls enveloping his tip.

Pushing deeper inside you he lets out a moan "fuck you feel so good" he says as he catches his bottom lip in between his teeth. "You're so big" you gasp, feeling how good he filled you up to the brim as you feel him begin to slowly move. Rafe couldn't get enough of the sight as his cock disappeared inside you.

His cock buried deep inside you makes you moan and your nails into palms as your chest is pressed against the cold hard floor making your nipples perk and a shiver run down your spine; setting a pace for bouncing against him. The feeling of your velvety walls tightening around making him choke back a moan.

"Oh- god" you whisper shakily. His hands holding onto your hips guiding a pace, the soft sound of skin slapping with your small moans could be heard throughout the room.

A small sheen of sweat on your skin and your makeup smeared while your ass bounced on his cock it was addicting. "You like being fucked like this?" He asks as he bucks his hips into your sharply.

Moaning at his dirty words and sudden surge of confidence your head falls into your hands muffling your sweet voice Rafe's palm sharply smacks your ass "Answer me" he says groaning as he soothes the stinging feelings on your warm skin.

"Mhm, I want people to hear how good you fuck me" you say lifting your head from your hands as you bite your bottom lip hard as you hear how wet you are with each thrust he gave you. Rafe; eager to let his load off inside you, holds your hips stopping you from bouncing any longer and begins to thrust his hips into you harder. The feeling of his tip pushing at your cervix.

His hips piston into you as your thighs and ass jiggle at the repetitive thrusts "right there" You moan as you feel him pounding in a certain part of your walls. You tighten around him as your essence forms a white ring around the base of his dick.

"Just like that, I just want you to cum inside me" you babble mindlessly as his stomach churns at the words spewing out. "Yeah? Want me to fill you up with my cum?" he groans as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten and his death grip on the fat of your ass almost sending you over the edge if it wasn't for how hard he was pounding you.

You nod eagerly as you begin to alternate between grinding and bouncing, your nails drag against his inner thigh leaving behind a red and irritated trail- yet he didn't mind it as it pushed him closer to his orgasm.

Leaning down with his chest to your back Rafe presses his lips to yours moaning against each other's lips pushing you closer and closer. Your back arching even more as you move faster wanting to cum so badly "keep going. Don't stop" he groaned, letting his head fall back.

His hair messily pushed against his forehead as it was covered in sweat and his eyes rolled back "god I'm gonna cum" he says breathily as you grind back against him to meet his thrusts as the sticky sound of him pounding your sloppy pussy resides in the air of the locker room.

The room was warm and all you could care about was how good your best friend was fucking you. "You like having an audience to be fucked like a slut in front of huh?" He says as he grips onto your hips harder to stop your movement as he pounds into a spongy part of your walls.

His hair sticking to his forehead and his breath becoming heavier "I love being fucked like a slut" you rasp as you hear his breathy laugh at your words desperate to feel release "good" he says as he fucks into you harder. "Tell me how much of a slut you are" he groans as his nails dig into your hips, "I'm such a fucking slut for you, god I'm your cockslut" you whine as his thrusts are deeper and sharp it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Pulling your back to his chest hitting an angle inside you that made you see white as your ass bounced into his lap your hands desperately thrash to grip your own thigh as a result of overwhelming pleasure.. "Oh fuck- just like that, You're gonna make me cum" he moaned deeply into the nape of your neck.

Letting out a string of whines you clench harder "I'm close" he moaned as he began to twitch inside you, his words buzzing in your ears making you grind against him eagerly "please let me cum" you beg as you turn your head over your shoulder to look at Rafe who was absolutely pussy drunk on the feeling of you.

"You gonna cum?" he asks as his hand falls between your thighs, his fingers press against your clit "You gonna fucking cum?" he asks rhetorically as his words slur, you nod as your breathing becomes uneven "do it" he says pushing you back down into the cold ground roughly gripping your hips and you were sure it would leave bruises his eyes roll back as he feels how you clench around him and let your orgasm washes over you, with a few more hard thrusts he would also be tipping over the edge to his orgasm moaning as his thick white strings of cum fills you up leaving your body feeling warm and fuzzy.

Fucking you both through your highs your thighs clench shut as overstimulation creeps up on you your moans began to come out choked which makes Rafe slow down his pace until his hips were no longer moving against yours.

Pulling out you both hiss, as his cum drips down your thigh Rafe chuckles at the sight almost wanting to use his fingers to fuck his cum back inside you but deems you're too fucked out. He pulls away completely standing on shaky legs walking off to the bathroom to grab a clean towel wet with warm water to clean you off. You breathe heavily, almost too lazy to pick yourself up looking at the mirror perched against the wall seeing how your face was most likely in it.

Your actions finally sink in. You hear the footsteps near you, Rafe walks back into the locker room he wipes you off rubbing small soothing circles into your thighs he wipes you down clean. Rafe would be sure you were getting treatment you deserve even if it wasn't in the most romantic place.

After he takes care of you can hear "I'm sorry if I was being too rough," he says softly as he looks at you with soft eyes "don't worry about it. I like that stuff anyways" you say with a chuckle you roll over onto your side you look at your best friend "it felt good. No need to be sorry" you say waving him off. Rafe sighs in content, almost nervous that he had hurt you or took too much of his anger out on you.

"Get up, you need a shower before we go back to the hotel" he says rubbing your sore thighs. You bite back a groan as you think about actually having to leave your spot on the ground. Your body feeling sticky and covered in sweat, You cave sitting up. You press your hand to your sore back thinking about how harshly your back had been pushed against it. Rafe holds a hand out to you as he coaxes you into a warm shower.

You hadn't thought about the fall out of the matter, you have in fact slept with your best friend, the person you live with, and spend every day with. You had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow but you didn't let that thought sink in that much as well when Rafe's more intimate with you, the lingering touches, the small pecks on your lips as he washes you up with the soap he had packed in his bag. The smell of him washes over you as you let all of your thoughts wash away with the soapy water down the drain of the shower.

You'd just have to worry about it another time.

[iam-the-wild]

I love thinking about Evan and his demons as symbolism for DID

[twosides--samecoin]

Free yourself of your ego so you can put your nose to the grindstone and do the real work.

I see so many writers who seem to think that they're supposed to get it 100% right on the first try, and that's just not how storycraft works. Most of the books in publication today have several rounds of drafts where the manuscript is passed back and forth between the editing team and author. If your fave author needed an editing team, you're allowed to have a shitty first draft.

If it fails to meet your expectations, use it as a learning opportunity. Open the document side by side with a copy of itself and make changes on the new copy. Learn from what disappoints you.

& it's never about "failing to do the story justice", it's more often than not about a ton of other preconceived notions about writing or self-esteem/self-imposed limitations. It's often about protecting one's inner perfectionist and/or gifted kid who will feel an earth-shattering pain if something they put into the world reflects poorly upon them.

But you have to allow yourself to draft. You have to spend time with the work and form a relationship with it. You have to be willing to learn your bad habits and edit your own words. You must learn to wait a day to fix issues before you post. Leave your worries at the door. Turn your focus toward improving the skill of writing.

If you'd accept, "Oh, right, you can't paint a Rembrandt when you're just starting out - that's a really crazy expectation to have on a beginner painter", then that same understanding and grace can and should be applied to storycraft.

It's also just not that serious. The edit button exists for a reason - I went back and edited the first 115k of Long Time Running earlier this year and am about to go back and edit more, because my skill grew and I keep noticing little things I can improve.

This is not a zero-sum game: the story is something you build toward over time, not something that happens immediately.

The most frustrating experience as a writer is having a clear vision in your mind of the story you want to tell but being too afraid to put pen to paper for fear of failing to do the story justice. I’m so scared that my actual execution will fail to meet my expectations that I’m paralysed to even start.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

while teen while goblin while aroace while injured while doing your best

[ominous-horse-noises]

anyway i want to reiterate that i hope the rat grinders are tpk'd, revived and uncorrupted solely bc i want them to have to spend senior year together. 'redeemed' doesnt necessarily mean friendly with the bad kids and honestly? its so much funnier if they continue being bitchy to each other but without the trying to end the world stuff. they've built plenty of positive relationships w/ former villains now it's time for the next stage: uneasy alliance buzzing with the tension of both sides trying to hold back the urge to clown on each other

introducing, fantasy high senior year: the group project