#you cannot break me. coward. bastard

[writers-potion]

Writing Female Fighters

The Heroine Must. Fight.

Today's female protagonists cannot sit on the side crying and breaking down or whimpering as the battle ensues.

Readers want to see autonomous female fighters who can at least defense themselves with courage and adequate skill.

Not all women are the same, but the heroine should get her butt moving.

Less Muscle, but More Flexibilty

The average woman is shorter than the average man, which makes it more difficult to wield a long sword or slam something down on the opponent's head.

A woman who works out can plausibly be stronger than a male couch potato, but if her male counterpart works out as much as her, the man is going to be much stronger.

On the other hand, the center of gravity in a woman's body is lower than a man's which makes it harder to knock her off her feet.

She is also more flexible, which gives her advantage in grappling fights, making use of complex landscapes, or deflecting blows.

A woman's small size can also be an advantage if her opponent has only ever trained with male opponents. His big hands might not get a good grip on her slender limbs.

In historical fiction, giving your heroine good muscule build can be tricky as exercise was generally considered harmful for women, with some exceptions for horseriding any maybe archery at best.

In such cases, make your heroine an accomplished dancer or an eager horsewoman, or the only girl whose father considered to be son replacement and thus, gave her a boy's education.

Women of lower classes who couldn't afford to be fashionably weak will be plausibly stronger, perhaps even more than an idle gentleman.

More Room for Negotiation, but Prolonged Ruthlessness

In the Suspense part of your fight scene, females are more likely to negotiate and talk more, strategically trying to descalate the situation rather than attacking on a momentary impulse.

Generally, women are less aggressive than men and remain level-headed longer than her male counterparts, opting for non-violent methods first before using force.

Exceptions apply if she is trying to protect her children (or someone who she cares for as a child). Mothers can be tigresses.

A female pre-fight conversation may be: "If you had not done so-and-so and betrayed me with so-and-so, we could have been good friends as I thought we would be." "What do you mean? It was in fact you who brought bad blood between us. I can still hear you laughing with so-and-so, taunting me, purposefully making me look bad -" "But that was so long ago! If you want me to say sorry about something so insignificant, you should have just said so: I'm sorry. There. Satisfied?" "Ha! I can't believe you say that so easily. You still don't get it, do you?" "Who's being petty and unreasonable now?"

A male pre-fight conversation will be shorter: "Who's the coward now?" "You're wrong." "Prove it." "Bastard."

Compared to men, it will take more time for a woman's fight hormones (adrenaline, neurotransmitters and such) to kick in.

She would be slower to engage initially, throwing reluctant punches and thinking, but she'll grow more and more violent and lose all rational thought and compassion, and once she's in full flow, may not stop even when her opponent begs for mercy.

When writing a male-female duo, you can show him going for the first blow while she observes and strategizes first. When he's past his peak and panting, she is flying about left and right. Later when the tension wears off and she becomes wobbly and teary, she can rely on him to have recovered faster and distract other teammates so that they won't see her cry.

Plausible Skills and Backstory

In many cultures and time periods, the general attitude of society towards girls is that they have no place in fist fights or martial arts, unlike how it is encouraged for boys of the same age. So if your heroine has physical prowess that surpasses typical 'fitness' or is hidden, build a backstory of how she's obtained it.

For modern heroines, it can be as simple as signing her up for martial arts classes or yearly membership at the local gym. For historical fiction or girls with strict 'feminine' upbringing, it can be trickier.

It can be related to profession: maybe she was an erotic wrestler, catfighter, or an assasin who thought killing was more honorable than prostitution. They may have dabbles with it for a short time and is now trying to hide their past from their respectable employer or fiance.

It can be family backstory: Perhaps her mother was an accomplished martial artist or she had to fend for younger siblings on the streets from an early age. Maybe she was the only girl in a family of many boys who refused to be the punching bag.

Inexperienced Female Fighters

A woman with no fighting experience or training is likely to resort to one of these on instinct:

Try to talk herself out of the situation, attempting to persuade or negotiate for her life.

Grab something to use as a weapon. This instinct seems to be stronger for women than it is in men.

Use her hands to try and break free, or kick (often wth little success)

Pull hair

Scratch.

In a serious fight, pulling hair and scratching won't be helpful, except when the police come to find her body, they would find the opponent's DNA under her fingernails.

Plausible Weapons and Clothing

All of the above applies to scenes where both parties have no weapons, or has the bare minimum (like one dagger each).

Weapons are equalizers, and if your heroine is pointing a gun at her opponent she will definitely NOT hesitate to be the one to shoot first.

When giving your female character a weapon, choose one she can plausibly use. It would take an unusually brawny woman to wield a great medieval longsword.

For historical fiction, give your heroine something she'll plausibly own. Swords and firearm were a no-go for women, but archery was borderline acceptable.

For clothing starters, you definitely CAN NOT dress her in a tight miniskirt and chainmail bra with long, flowy hair and multiple silver chockers. Unless she's trying to seduce her way into her opponent's bedroom, and he has a chainmail bra fetish.

A practical heroine will have her thighs covered, preferably with leather but at least with fabric, since a lot of blood flows through the thighs and a slash would be critical.

She'll keep her hair tied, tucked under a helmet, braided back, etc. so that it won't impede her vision.

She'll support her breasts with a strong sport bra. In a historical eprioid, she'll either tie her breasts tight with a fabric bandage or support them with some kind of leather corset.

Invent a female version of male fighter clothing of the time you are writing about if it doesn't exist.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[thesagebrushkid]

AI Art Question Answered

People ask me about my view point on AI ART and so here it is:

1) If you use AI to create images (the proper term is IMAGES, NOT ART) Then you are lazy, a thief and essentially a murderer. You are also an advocate of Satan and all divine powers of evil.

2) If you do not list the images you are posting as rendered by AI, you are a liar.

3) If you render AI images and post them but do not have a profile filled out, you are a coward.

4) If you claim you cannot draw and that's why you use AI to create images, you are a karen and a bullshit artist of the highest degree.

5) If you ask me to forgive you because you feel you can create "art" by "uttering a few words to a computer" the answer is no. You are a pathetic karen of a life form and you deserve no forgiveness. If that's the only way you can create then becomes a writer and leave the REAL art to REAL ARTISTS. if you REALLY want some art made, PAY A REAL ARTIST. Sorry if it takes more than 15 seconds to get done. but you are not the center of the universe.

6) If you call yourself an "artist" and what you create is "art" then you are a moron and need to go back to school and learn what art is.

7) If you call yourself my friend and say you support my art and career but go behind my back and use AI, you are a two-faced bastard.

8) If you use AI to create any form of porn or sexual fetish images, you are a pervert, mentally deranged and need serious intervention. Not to mention a Boy/Girlfriend.

9) If you consider "INSPIRATION" and "THEFT" as meaning one of the same thing, in the terms of "AI ART" (or anything for that matter) then you are a totally uneducated buffoon for not even knowing the different meanings of the two words and need to go back to school.

10) If you live in the USA and render AI images, then sign them and put them up for sale, you are (as of the latest governing laws of 2024) committing a crime and officially labelled a criminal in all forms of the word.

11) If you print out AI images and host them at a convention or museum as ART, then you are not only a liar, criminal and a thief, but you are a pathetic piece of wasted air and flesh that needs to be (censored)

12) If you claim your ADHD or Dyslexia prevents you from learning to draw, you are a pathetic narcissistic sot. There have been great painters throughout history with mental and physical problems bigger than yours. So, cry me another river KAREN!

13) If you put a watermark on AI images, you are a serious piece of shit and are ignorant about the laws currently in play against "AI art."

14) If you hide your AI image and ask for a donation to see them, you are breaking the law and need to be arrested.

15) If you tell your computer to render the image a God or any other religious figure head, you are a sinner and breaking your own faith's moral codes. Remove yourself from the world of the living please.

16) If you use an AI program to render images of any Aboriginal or Native People from anywhere in the world, you are an immoral turd fest and no better than the people that treated them centuries ago.

17) If all you do is render images of underage boys and nothing more (clothed or not), you are a Pedophile and you need to have your member, and hands chopped off with a dull axe and locked away for life.

18) If you use AI to create images to spread hate, lies, fear and violence to people you are prejudice against, you are just the product of Satan's seed and a Daemonette's egg. From Hell you were born and back to Hell you WILL go.

19) If you claim that you are "expressing yourself" with AI art", you are an asswipe. You are lying to yourself and no, you are not expressing yourself. Expressing yourself comes from inside yourself and artistic talent, be it traditional art, music, or dance. It comes from inside you; your heart, mind and soul. You are not expressing yourself; you are lying to yourself.

20) If you dare utter "what is the harm?" you are inhuman and you deserved to be dragged into the street and (censored). Today 4/2/2024 NYC is starting to post AI art on subway tunnels and on billboards. That alone has taken jobs away from 52 REAL ARTISTS, not to mention food off the tables for their families, utilities unpaid, rents and mortgages unpaid. But I guess you do not care if kids go hungry. Just do not complain where you see more people living on the street because YOU PUT THEM THERE.

21) If you say you do not have the mind to learn art, then you are a born looser. If you were able to graduate HS, College, learn to drive a car, restore some old furniture, do laundry on your own and play sports, you can learn to draw. you are just a lazy looser looking for any reason to cheat your way through life.

22) If you know all this and do it anyway you are a monster.

==============================================

In short, AI art is NOT ART and never will be ART. Art can only be created by human beings. No other creature on this planet. Art is the product of imagination, study, time, practice, technique, style, control and love. Art is not JUST expressing yourself, it's the ability to step back and look at the completed work and gain a sense of accomplishment, be its good or bad. And from that completed work, we learned how to improve. Art comes from the mind, heart and the soul. AI imagers are not artists. It takes away the very things that make us human.

If you paid someone to create a picture for you, telling them what you want to see in the picture, does that make YOU an artist?? NO! And the exact same thing can be said for AI. You did not create the image. Hell, you did not even pay for the image to be created. There-fore you are NOT an artist. You are just a narrator with inhumane criminal intent.

I seriously do not care if this post causes me to lose any or all of my watchers with this post. I would rather have no watchers at all than a whole bunch of demonic AI crime lords on my board, there just for a quick steal or sexual fix.

[aajjks]

DHP!JK

“i’m not taking him anywhere! his drunk ass can sleep in this hotel room for all i care!” you angrily cry as you rise to your feet and look for sarang. “where’s that bitch at? she didn’t get fucked up enough to my liking” you sniffle as you wipe your teary face and leave the hotel room in search of her but alina tells you someone took her away. “she’s a pussy. she touches him and then runs away like a coward. if you EVER see her again, tell that bitch it’s on sight”

you walk over to your sleeping boyfriend and examine his laid out figure. his neck is littered with love bites and when you go to pull his shirt down, you curiously lift it up to see the engraving you made above his heart but it’s tainted by her a lips and a bright red bruise. just looking at it brings you to tears but you’re happy she didn’t physically hurt him. you wipe your tears before walking away to grab your heels and leave. eunwoo’s brows furrow “hey! what about jungkook?”

“you’re his best friend, aren’t you?” it’s the last thing you say before you walk past alina and head towards the elevator to take you to the lobby. once the doors of the elevator shut, you let it out: your pain, your frustration, your anger—those bottled up emotions has you breaking down in tears. once you arrive at the lobby, you leave the hotel and walk to your car with a face full of tears.

when you get inside, you open glove compartment, take the bottle antidepressants, and chuck them out of your window. “fuck you, sarang” you say before getting inside and driving off.

~🫧

“It’s been a whole fucking day. When is he going to wake up?” that’s the first thing that his mind registers when jungkook opens his eyes.

This is not his house. “Uh..” he groans out, rubbing his eyes. He recognizes the voice in the panic tone to be his of best friends.

“OH Thank God, you’re awake! WHAT TH- be gentle! Y-Yeah.. what the fuck jungkook!” Jungkook tries to get up from the bed and that’s when he sees eunwoo and alina staring at him.

“Woah what the fuck— why am I in your house??? where’s yn?” That’s the first thing jungkook asks, eunwoo sighs in relief before giving jungkook a slap on his cheek.

“Ow what the fuck!”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!!!! YOU CHEATED ON YN YOU BASTARD AND WITH SARANG?!!?!!!! AGHHH I CANT BELIEVE YOU JUNGKOOK. Yn was so heartbroken!”

Jungkooks eyes fully widen and he screams. “W-WHAT?!!” Jungkook has no idea what he’s talking about at all.

Cheating on YOU??? and with SARANG?

Jungkook gets up and frantically starts to ask eunwoo and alina questions about what exactly happened that night.. because all he remembers is snuggling up next to you and then he passed out when you were kissing his neck—

You.. you were the one who was doing that weren’t you?

“Oh you stupid bastard! It wasn’t her! It WAS sarang. I cannot believe that you got drunk enough to not have been able recognize who’s your girlfriend.” Eunwoo scoffs.

“Yn actually came to the party late at night, wanting to surprise you but you surprised all of us instead.”

And then jungkook realizes everything that went down.

It was sarang all along. He feels sick to his stomach right now. That bitch drugged him. And then she took advantage of him and you saw it but you think that he cheated on you.

“S-SHE DRUGGED ME!” Jungkook says with angry tears. “I need to go and find YN right now.”

He cannot believe that he ended up cheating on you.

“Woah what the fuck where are you going? Ugh jungkook don’t be stupid. Just stay here you and her are over. She’s angry at you.”

Jungkook just glares at eunwoo before getting out of the bed and that’s where he spots his keys on the nightstand so he takes them and he runs out of the house in a hurry.

He spots his vehicle and immediately gets into it before anyone can stop him, Jungkook starts the car and drives away before eunwoo can catch up to him.

He doesn’t feel energized anymore, his head really hurts. But all he cares about right now is finding you and apologizing to you and begging you to take him back.

But you will never take him.. back. he— he cheated on you..

Jungkook is crying uncontrollably as he drives like a maniac, he doesn’t care if he gets into an accident right now all he cares about right now is that he reaches you

“Y-Yn.” His vision is blurry. He cannot stop crying and his heart feels like it’s being stabbed over and over again because how could he ever cheat on you?

He cannot live without you.

A few minutes later, he finally arrives at your shared department, and he gets out of his car and runs to the complex.

He barely managed to come here without dying, but what is the point? He goes to your apartment and starts banging at the door.

“YN! YNNNNNN! YN!” He bangs his fist. “Y-YN!! OPEN THE DOOR, PLEASE!”

[orderandcollosal]

Hello, this is our intro!

I am Zygarde, the keeper of order. You can call me “Zy” though.

Bonnie came up with the idea of me making a blog, so I dragged Regigigas into this as well.

We are individuals. All 5 of us. Though, whenever we are in a human body or 100%, only one of us controls the body. It’s complicated. So, we wear a necklace to indicate who’s in the body, and 2 bracelets to show whose controlling it.

We have different pronouns.

Red - He/They

Orange - She/They

White - She/Her

Blue - They/Them

Purple - He/Him

Whenever its 100%, use They/Them. (All green text = 100%)

We all are caught by Bonnie, and travel with her, Serena, Ash, and Clemont.

Red and Blue come from Kalos, and the rest come from other regions. We are all over the world with color differences depending on the region/temperature.

We are currently in a poly relationship with Xerneas, Yveltal, and Regigigas.

You are welcome to ask any questions you may have.

————————-

Hey. I’m Regigigas. The colossal pokemon. The one who towed the continents. I was dragged into this.

My nickname is Regi.

I created all of the Regis. They still stick around nearby where we travel to.

My pronouns change, just ask.

I physically cannot talk fluently out loud. I do not have a mouth. If in person, I will communicate with morse code or binary. However, I AM able to speak, it just takes quite a lot of energy in order to do so. Even then, it could mess up and I start speaking in ancient languages.

I have so much strength that I could lift a mountain. Yes I experimented with that. Don’t ask why.

I walk around with Zy and the others for fun. There isn’t that much else to do.

I am able to change my height somehow. I still don’t understand how exactly. Normally I just use a height thats around as big as Zy. Naturally however, I’m around..over 60’ ft.

———-

// YOOO my first rp blog!! :D

I use tone tags!!/gen

These are my characters!

Ik its probably..definitely weird versions of em-

Basically I ONLY fixate on XYZ. Soo..Instead of the xyz gang splitting up, they take a break and reunite after a few months! The story continues from bonnie’s perspective as she catches Zygarde and grows up to be a trainer with the whole gang! The sun and moon thing still happens, just with xyz as well

For Zy, heres their personalities!

Red - Fond of humans, a little more trusting

Orange - Skiddish, anxious. Typically called a “Coward”.

White - Mood swings galore. Could be happy and content to angry in 2 seconds.

Blue - Trust issues at first, gets chill if you’re close with em.

Purple - Angry Bastard. Always picking a fight. He ALWAYS fights with white.

Heres old art I made on here!

They are able to use power to turn into a human form or disguise!

[xamaxenta]

the note I added to a plot document for arc 6, featuring feral bastard sabo who cannot articulate his feels and slightly suicidal marco:

Interlude chapter during the period where they’re figuring shit out: Sabo, extremely pissed at Marco about Marco’s self-sacrificial and self-martyring shit, makes a comment about how “normally when I have a problem as stubborn as you, I’m able to just beat it’s face in until it stops moving but I don’t even get that satisfaction with you!” “You could if you weren’t a coward.” which results in a fight where an enraged Sabo bashes Marco’s skull in with a pipe. Stunned and terrified of himself, Sabo watches Marco’s head burst into flames before he gets up and “feel better now?” “No, you fucking asshole, I feel worse actually!” and they end up hugging it out. Ace, watching from the window, just shakes his head. Followed up by all three cuddling sabo in the middle in bed and Marco apologizing for making Sabo do that, and sabo trying to express that marco didn’t make him do shit. It goes nowhere until ace tells them to just shut up they’ll sort it out in the morning. Might result in a second fight where sabo shoots marco through the eye (because I love the look of marco’s flaming eye) (instead of blood and viscera, it’s just flames and feathers, marco’s awakened fruit refusing to submit to death, marco staggered back briefly by the impact then leaning forward again with his burning eye and the back of his head erupting in flames and feathers. Marco blinks away the fire). Sabo breaks down, sobbing about Marco being too forgiving, how he shouldn’t tolerate this kind of treatment from someone he loves, etc. Marco hugs him through it and tells sabo it’s okay and to talk to ace. Later, ace explains that sabo loving marco too doesn’t diminish what they have together (and, in fact, probably just expands it because why wouldn’t they share everything anyway? Marco’s down for it, even if they have to beat some sense into him first about giving up his place for sabo instead of just letting sabo in the same way he’s let ace in)

This makes me WUWUEUE so hard like youre right this deranged feral sabo is thee best and i really cant wait to see how you will write him bc this is super emotional and everyone’s realllyyy keyed up

I loooove how Sabo would react like hair trigger almost and instantly regret what he’s done, feel sick to his stomach as Marco revives, easily imagining him with a sickly complexion and a pinched expression like why would you fucking say shit like that

And Sabo gets to be in the middle!!! To feel Ace and Marco like , talk about the most complicated emotional sandwich, i enjoy the concept of Marco and sabo facing each other and bickering in circles and Ace headbutts Sabo from behind like fucks sake shut the fuck up both of you please and they do bc Ace needs rest 🥹

Sabo for that second fight essentially unwillingly? Using marco as an emotional punching bag is SO GOURMET as is the always fantastic flaming eye aesthetic Marco often gets depicted with its sexy even tho the content and reason for this flaming eye isnt so sexy hah

And that last bit where where

Giving up his space place by Aces side so Sabo can take it is legit thee delicacy that is MAS its not about Marco letting Sabo take his place its about letting him in its not about favourites or replacements or replacing people Ace cares about or people Sabo or Marco care about its about opening up the love they share aaaa AA

[faereun]

dammon rolls his eyes at rolan. / @agarwaen

things cannot possibly get any worse than this. well, they can, really, and rolan is almost certainly sure that they will, within due time  —  as if the   gods  are  laughing   down at him, watching gleefully as his life falls down around him in tiny, broken pieces. zevlor's betrayal, cal and lia being ferried away to moonrise, that damned hero - type from the emerald grove showing up yet again, eager to rub their courage in [ rolan's cowardly face ] once more … it all it's enough to   drive a tiefling to drink,   truly, and drink he has. he stumbles through the inn awkwardly, IGNORING THE GAZES thrown his way  —  pitying and damning alike. he trips past the entrance, feet catching on the train of his robes.   'sodding robes. sodding zevlor. sodding harpers,'   he curses under his breath, starting for the shore   adjacent  the  inn   , just a ways away from dammon's temporary forge.

speaking of dammon, as rolan rights himself sluggishly, he finds that piercing green eyes are already upon his figure. ah, the wizard is sure he makes for a   very  pathetic  picture   as he is now, vision blurring around the edges, swaying from side to side with [ every heavily - intoxicated ] move he makes. said green eyes roll at the sight of him, and if nothing else were to sober rolan up, well, that alone would've done the trick. he changes course swiftly, charging toward the blacksmith with an accusatory pointed finger.   'i saw that. i bloody saw that, you bastard,'   he grits out THROUGH BARED FANGS , jabbing fellow tiefling in the chest as he speaks.  'i know exactly what you think of me. what everyone here thinks of me. but you know what? i don't give a damn. you have no idea what i've been through  —  what i've had to do just to scrape by,'   he slurs, so full of unbridled anger that tears begin to prick the corners of his eyes.   

'you all think i'm a coward … a selfish bastard who only thinks for himself. but riddle me this  —  if cal and lia had left with me for baldur's gate as i'd intended, would we have gotten stuck here with you lot? would they have been taken away from me?'   he growls, voice breaking as he utters those last four words. god, they   were  really  gone  , weren't they?   'fuck this. i don't need to explain myself to you  —  to any of you.'   he turns on heel, ready to storm off to wherever his feet would carry him the fastest.

[strawberry-shortcake04]

Little thing I wrote! I need to edit it and the flow probably isn’t very good but that’s for future me to figure out :3

Context: Quilo is immortal and the only condition to keep his immortality is that he cannot fall in love. Then he meets Delilah and suddenly he is finding the not falling in love thing very difficult. She just told him he cares about him and he’s freaking the fuck out.

“Quilo!” The knocking at the door was harsh and unyielding. “You’re a bastard do you know that?”

He wanted to say yes but talking to her seemed to be a bad idea.

“I’m going to break down this door and-“ she made a frustrated sound not seeming to know what she would do to him.

He thought of many thing he wanted to do ha were highly inappropriate which he reminded himself were part of the problem.

“Quilo!” The knocking began to die down. “Fine, if you don’t want to talk fine.”

Something in her voice wavered, and it nearly sounded like she crying.

Quilo didn’t think he would make her cry.

“Just know that I think you’re a coward for this.”

He confirmed with the way her voice shook she was indeed crying now.

Quilos heart turned into a knot in his chest. He had thought she hadn’t cared enough to cry over someone like him. He certainty didn’t deserve her tears.

Bastard, he mummered to himself.

Then he opened the door.

She was up on her feet in a moment, wiping away stray tears coming down her cheeks.

“Seriously? Do you have any idea how selfish you are. Gods, I open up to you and then you completely shut me out? Is this what you are going to do everytime something makes you uncomfortable?”

Quilo flinched, the word selfish awakening a deep wound that seemed to keep opening. Yet, he knew she was right. She always was.

“Answer me.” She demanded her fists curled into tight balls.

It was what he had always done before. It had always worked, well until it didn’t anyway.

He scanned her face, taking in every inch of her complexion that made his heart race. He didn’t want to run away from her but he never did. He had to. He had to survive, his survival was all he could ever count on. The running, the struggle, the anger had always felt the most right no matter how miserable it made him feel.

But maybe this time he wouldn’t run. Maybe he could fix things and he wouldn’t ooodnt have. He could make things right for once in his damn life.

“I don’t know how to do anything else but run.” His hands gripped the edges of the door frame. The words were like acid on his tongue, and they struggled to come out of his mouth. He had never admitted that to anyone, not even Dorian. “It’s all I’ve ever done, I ran from my father’s fist and just never stopped. If I stopped I would break and if I broke the fist would just hit harder.”

Delilah’s expression softened, and Quilo looked away. He wasn’t sure he could get through this looking into those eyes that seemed to pry him apart bit by bit.

“I-“ His voice cracked. “I want to be better. I want to stop. I just don’t know how. When you told me that I, it’s just been so long since-“

Quilo felt his small tears turn into sobs.

“Damn it.” He whispered, trying desperately to control himself. “I’m sorry I’m just-“

Arms wrapped around his waist, surrounding him with warmth and light. When was the last time he was hugged? Maybe by Colin, maybe as far back as Dorian. For a moment he forgot how he was even meant to respond.

“Quilo, I care about you. I want to help you, you just have to let me.”

Quinoa arms slowly moved to wrap around Delilah. He let his face drop into her shoulder, and felt her hand slowly creep up to intwine into his hair. Gods how had he lived so long without this.

Sorrow and pain melded into the bubble of warmth he found himself in. Suddenly for the first time in a century he didn’t feel alone.

“I don’t know how.” He responded, and he found honesty to be freeing.

“That’s the fun part of being fucked up together, we can find out how.”

They stood there in that doorway, and Quilo wished he could spend the rest of his eternity in that moment.

[casspurrjoybell-21]

Pirate Chains - Volume 1 - Strong Tides

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 1 - Fate’s Game - Part 2

"You, son of a bitch. Even after starving for three days, you can still attack me. You think you can beat me? Look at you. You're as pale all hell. Foolishly young. You cannot beat me, not even in your best shape, you bookworm."

"Tsk, always cherished and protected by others like the important delicacy that you are. First your damn father, then your stupid mother, your uncle, sister, cousin, Ugh. Always fucking reading those stupid books as if they could change a single thing around you," he smirked and added sarcastically. 

"Heh, what the hell would you know about a real fight?"

He looked down on the young man. 

He could kill him. 

He could kill him long ago but the bookworm was useful at keeping the business going enough for the money to keep coming but that wasn't enough. 

Terry wanted more.

Remembering his purpose for all of this, he decided to try one last time. 

One last time, then he wouldn't be blamed for finishing the worthless shit.

“Look, I don't want to hurt you, boy. We worked together for years and it wasn't all that bad. God knows I don't want to hurt your mother. She is a lady like no other and she's been a decent wife. So, either tell me where the money is or tell me if your sister knows about it. Maybe I should go ask her, nicely, huh? I bet she wouldn't last as long as you did. You'd be surprised how fast she would sing if I left her alone with the sailors..."

"Don't you dare go near her."

Nyx grabbed the wooden edge of the deck with his tied hands and pulled himself to stand with difficulty. 

"Raya is happily married now. You are well aware that she knows nothing about my father's business. She kept away from these matters before and after his passing."

Feeling fed up and impatient, Terry yelled... 

"This is your last chance, pretty boy. I already went this far. Kidnapping and threatening a fucking highborn. Hell, at this pace, it would be much easier to go back without you than with you. I'll just tell them you stupidly fell off the deck. Yes. You fell like the idiot that you are and I spent days looking for you. How does that sound? Your end is near, kid. Speak, God damn it, speak and spare your own life."

"You bastard. I endured your annoying selfishness for so long. I covered your petty thefts for the sake of my mother and to protect my family's reputation. I left my studies and future to help you run the business. We regarded you as part of the family but you never treated us like one. You never saw me as a stepson. I was nothing but a nuisance to you. You coward. Look at you, hiding behind a sword."

Terry's anger and impatience took the best of him. 

He raised his arm with the sword and decided to send the insolent boy to his maker.

"Fuck you," Terry cursed, as he took a step towards the young man. 

He was about to end this when he noticed Nyx being distracted. 

The young man was staring at something other than the sword. 

He was looking sideways in surprise and horror. 

Only then did the imposing shadow reach his right shoulder. 

Terry looked over his shoulder to see a huge ship closing in on theirs in eerie silence. 

Their eyes moved upwards to stare at the crude smiles of the men standing on the edge of the larger ship, eagerly waiting to be close enough to jump on their deck.

Nyx's gaze halted on a certain distinguished man among them. 

He was tall with a strong build and an undeniably heavy presence. 

They locked eyes together and Nyx found himself frozen, unable to break free from the grey, cold gaze that was looking down at him with the most arrogant smirk. 

Like a predator observing it's helpless prey.

When he noticed the waving black flag attached to the main mast of the mysterious ship, Terry shouted to alarm the crew below deck.

"PIRATES," Terry screamed as he rushed to get back to his unfinished business. 

In an act of confusion and despair, he turned to Nyx, grabbed his collar and pushed him making him lean backward on the edge of the deck. 

"I'd be damned if I let some fucking pirates know about my treasure. Spit it out, Nyx. It's now or fucking never, where is the God damned money?"

Nyx looked above his shoulder at the sea. 

Half of his body was pushed out of the deck. 

He moved his legs trying to secure himself but with tied hands, he was unable to escape the old man's grip. 

He opened his mouth to say something when a sudden impact shook the ship.

Ropes were instantly sent dangling and boarding the fishing ship in seconds. 

All the sailors that came out of the hull in panic were immediately attacked and easily beaten.

The pirate ship had bumped violently into theirs. 

Terry lost his balance with the impact and he let go of his stepson.

Nyx gasped, unable to grab the edge of the deck, he fell backward into the sea.

The scene didn't escape the Captain's eyes. 

Everything happened so fast. 

One second the young man was staring at those grey eyes and the next he was thrown out of the ship.

Seeing the handsome young man disappear into deep waters, the Captain instinctively threw his leather jacket behind him and jumped from the deck of his pirate ship and into the sea.

As the water became darker, Nyx's fear rose steadily. 

He struggled to swim back up towards the light but he couldn't use his tied hands to swim. 

Still, he moved them and did the best he could despite the lack of energy and the bruises around the ties that stung painfully in the salty waters. 

He panicked and put all his efforts into his legs in order to stop sinking any deeper. 

Soon, however, he felt weakness and despair sneak into him as his body became colder. 

A moment later, his arms stopped trying, his legs stopped fighting.

‘I'm sorry, mother,' he thought to himself.

Memories of his mother and sister flashed before his eyes. 

He felt deeply sorry and unfilial. 

Despite all his sacrifices and efforts, he was still unable to protect them from Terry's greed. 

'Am I giving up? After everything I've been through, is this the way it all ends? I don't know. I cannot think. I'm exhausted. I'm alone, helpless... hopeless.'

His lungs hurt excruciatingly with a piercing pain. 

Out of breath and with no will to live, he could struggle no more. 

He looked up at the fuzzy sunspot that was slowly disappearing and felt an odd sense of peace mixed with deep despair.

Through his blurred vision, he saw a shadow swimming towards him.

'Death?' he wondered.

He felt deeply sad about this lonely ending yet looking forward to the prospect of finding peace. 

With that thought in mind, he closed his eyes and surrendered to the shadow.

The shadow of death put his hand around Nyx's chest and pulled him towards the surface.

As soon as he resurfaced, he was met with crew members, anxiously waiting for their Captain. 

The pirates instantly regained their arrogant smiles and cheered victory. 

The Captain held a thick chain dangling from the side of his ship and some of his crew members hurried to pull the chain and their Captain along with it.

Captain Agenor stepped onto the deck of his pirate ship and stood proudly. 

He then threw Nyx on the wooden deck and received his fellow pirates' praise.

"Captain. You got our ransom money back." 

"It's not dead, Aye?"

The Captain looked at the silent body that lay before him in a haughty way. 

He approached him and poked him rudely with his boot. 

Feeling no response, he knelt on one knee, turned Nyx on his side and then moved his head backward.

As soon as his neck stretched, Nyx coughed violently while spitting the water he had inhaled. 

The Captain closed his eyes discreetly in relief, then he stood up and resumed his cold stare.

Some of the pirates surrounding them found the scene entertaining and the young man's poor state didn't spare him their jokes.

"Heh, the beauty is back from the valley of the dead."

"Aye. Right into the valley of hell." 

The two pirates looked at each other and everyone laughed brashly.

Nyx could barely focus. 

He looked around him and saw people laughing.

"I'm in hell?" he whispered to himself. 

He felt lightheaded. 

He tried but failed to focus on their faces or gather enough strength to say something. 

His forces left him as he lost consciousness.

One of the pirates rolled his eyes. 

"Again? Oh well. We can still play with the others we found until he wakes up."

"What do we do with him, Captain?"

Captain Agenor was still staring down at his caught prey. 

He remained silent for a moment before a smirk tugged the corner of his mouth wickedly as he ordered.

"Take him to my cabin. I'll deal with him later."

[songcfmuses]

continued @kinslcyer

aemond cannot help the half-smile that pulls at his lips for the briefest of moments. if he were a coward because he would not do what she asked of him then he would gladly accept the title. the smile disappears almost instantly, replaced with an unyielding sorrow that transforms the features of his face and makes his heart feel heavy. 

“ aemma, “ the young prince speaks her name and it sounds like a plea. a plea for what ? this was something he was not certain of. if the circumstances were different then he would have taken her into his arms as he did the day her father died. he would be her comfort. but it was not the same for he was the sole cause of her grief ; of her madness. love could be a twisted thing, couldn’t it ? 

he falls to her knees as she sits, eye brimming with unshed tears as his lips part in thought. aemond breaks through his trance and glances at her. it would make no difference for him to express his love for her that still remains in his heart. in fact, it would render the situation even more unbearably difficult than it already was. and yet nothing hurt worse than knowing what she became was because of him. 

“ you will not die by my hand or at my command. aemma, i      “ he fails to find the words that he wants to say to her. it is unbelievably frustrating, causing him to clench his jaw. “ i never intended for any of this to happen. “

There's one shining idea that she has, as he falls to his knees, as he speaks. She pushes herself up just enough to crawl to him, his heat wafting off him until she can see the unshed tears in his eyes. "If you give him back, everything goes away." Aemma's voice is so low she's not even sure he can hear her. She's not sure she can hear herself, even with eyes so wide, hand snaking forward to grip tight to his clothing.

"You can give him back, and I will be well again. Muna will be well, and we can be friends again, as we were, just the same." Could he? Could he just give Lucerys back? She's not sure. She doubts it, and yet her heart years to believe that he can, years for him to do it.

Aemma Velaryon swallows thickly. "Before the Hour of the Wolf. The Wolf will judge us all, but we will be asleep by then." What does that mean? She thinks, tongue darting out to wet her lips, clarity coming to her.

"I don't want the milk, make them stop giving it to me. I cannot sleep yet. Jemēla gēlȳni enkā. Taoba." You owe a debt. boy. A shakey breath leaves her, before she asks, "What did you intend, Qybor? Mittys ānogar geptot Rȳ vīlībāzma? Geptot? Daor. Daor Geptot... Qybor, dohaeragon nyke shifang." Bastard blood left at war? Left? No. Not left. Uncle, help me understand. "What did you intend? There are no monsters under the bed any longer. The monsters are men now."

[canariawing]

im glad you asked! his hand is way bigger than my hand if he wanted to hold hands he’d probably feel like he’s holding lukewarm bottle of water also fuck y

[thesagebrushkid]

Everything you asked me about AIers and more,,...UPDATE!

I added three more points to my take on people that abuse the right and skills of humanity to generate AI ART.

People ask me about my view point on AI ART and so here it is:

If you paid someone to create a picture for you, telling them what you want to see in the picture, does that make YOU an artists?? NO! And the exact same thing can be said for AI. You did not create the image. There-fore you are NOT an artist. You are just a narrator. You gained no experience from it, you gain no true feeling of self-worth, you used no true skills nor assets. And the AI program cannot be called an artist because only a human can create art. SET - POINT - MATCH. GAME OVER. I WIN. CASE CLOSED. YOU LOSE. GO TO JAIL, DO NOT PASS GO, DO NOT COLLECT $200. CASE CLOSED. BAILIFF TAKE THESE AI LOSERS AWAY.

1) If you use AI to create images (the proper term is IMAGES, NOT ART) Then you are lazy, a thief and essentially a murderer. You are also an advocate of Satan and all divine powers of evil.

2) If you do not list the images you are posting as rendered by AI, you are a liar.

3) If you render AI images and post them but do not have a profile filled out, you are a coward.

4) If you claim you cannot draw and that's why you use AI to create images, you are a karen and a bullshit artist of the highest degree.

5) If you ask me to forgive you because you feel you can create "art" by "uttering a few words to a computer" the answer is no. You are a pathetic karen of a life form and you deserve no forgiveness. If that's the only way you can create then becomes a writer and leave the REAL art to REAL ARTISTS. if you REALLY want some art made, PAY A REAL ARTIST. Sorry if it takes more than 15 seconds to get done. but you are not the center of the universe.

6) If you call yourself an "artist" and what you create is "art" then you are a moron and need to go back to school and learn what art is.

7) If you call yourself my friend and say you support my art and career but go behind my back and use AI, you are a two-faced bastard.

8) If you use AI to create any form of porn or sexual fetish images, you are a pervert, mentally deranged and need serious intervention. Not to mention a Boy/Girlfriend.

9) If you consider "INSPIRATION" and "THEFT" as meaning one of the same thing, in the terms of "AI ART" (or anything for that matter) then you are a totally uneducated buffoon for not even knowing the different meanings of the two words and need to go back to school.

10) If you live in the USA and render AI images, then sign them and put them up for sale, you are (as of the latest governing laws of 2024) committing a crime and officially labelled a criminal in all forms of the word.

11) If you print out AI images and host them at a convention or museum as ART, then you are not only a liar, criminal and a thief, but you are a pathetic piece of wasted air and flesh that needs to be (censored)

12) If you claim your ADHD or Dyslexia prevents you from learning to draw, you are a pathetic narcissistic sot. There have been great painters throughout history with mental and physical problems bigger than yours. So, cry me another river KAREN!

13) If you put a watermark on AI images, you are a serious piece of shit and are ignorant about the laws currently in play against "AI art."

14) If you hide your AI image and ask for a donation to see them, you are breaking the law and need to be arrested.

15) If you tell your computer to render the image a God or any other religious figure head, you are a sinner and breaking your own faith's moral codes. Remove yourself from the world of the living please.

16) If you use an AI program to render images of any Aboriginal or Native People from anywhere in the world, you are an immoral turd fest and no better than the people that treated them centuries ago.

17) If all you do is render images of underage boys and nothing more (clothed or not), you are a Pedophile and you need to have your member, and hands chopped off with a dull axe and locked away for life.

18) If you use AI to create images to spread hate, lies, fear and violence to people you are prejudice against, you are just the product of Satan's seed and a Daemonette's egg. From Hell you were born and back to Hell you WILL go.

19) If you claim that you are "expressing yourself" with AI art", you are an asswipe. You are lying to yourself and no, you are not expressing yourself. Expressing yourself comes from inside yourself and artistic talent, be it traditional art, music, or dance. It comes from inside you; your heart, mind and soul. You are not expressing yourself; you are lying to yourself.

20) If you dare utter "what is the harm?" you are inhuman and you deserved to be dragged into the street and (censored). Today 4/2/2024 NYC is starting to post AI art on subway tunnels and on billboards. That alone had taken jobs away from a reported 52 REAL ARTISTS, not to mention food off the tables for their families, utilities unpaid, rents and mortgages unpaid. But I guess you do not care if kids go hungry. Just do not complain when you see more people living on the street because YOU PUT THEM THERE!!!!!

21) If you say you do not have the mind to learn art, then you are a born loser. If you were able to graduate HS, College, learn to drive a car, restore some old furniture, do laundry on your own and play sports, you can learn to draw. you are just a Lazy Loser looking for any reason to cheat your way through life.

22) If you tell yourself, you do not have the talent to be an artist, that makes you a Double Loser and even more Lazy. You are not BORN an artist; you teach yourself art. Do you seriously think that it's going to happen overnight or in an hour? AI generators are not art generators, they are a dangerous and addictive drug. and they are being used to create the most dangerous lies this world has ever seen.

23) If you post your AI shit on X/Twitter, you are most certainly a Demonologist. Just admit it and take a sip of the orange Kool Aid. From Hell fire you were wrought and to the brimstone of Hell you will return.

24) If you feel humbled by AI generators of any sort, that's not the true feeling of what it is. What you are feeling is addiction and embraced by the lies you are surrounding yourself with. If you think that's "humbleness" you are feeling, then you have utterly no idea what the word Humble means and you certainly have no love for humanity. Please Stick a Pistol in Your Mouth and...(censored). You are a waste of air and flesh. I so feel sorry for your folks for wasting their time to give birth to your deplorable life.

25) If you say AI generators are "just a toy" then you are Piece Of Shit and I dare not dwell on what toys you had as a kid. Nuclear Bombs and Radiation, more than likely. Something that steals and takes away the livelihood of others is NOT A TOY. What do you give kids for their Birthday and Christmas? Battle Axes, Cyanide and Dynamite??? But forgive me, I forget, you do not care who you hurt. All that matters is that quick wank you get making porn art. Thats clearly more important to you than a woman feeding her kid or someone being able to pay their bills. I see.

26) If you claim your dyslexia is what stops you from learning art and that's why you use AI generators, you are a lying factory of turd and a Manipulative Karen. If you can sit there and type a series of prompts for hours to get what you desire over and over, you are NOT DYSLEXIC. you are just a Moron using the world to get what you want. If you can sit or lay there for an hour typing in prompts, you can sit there and learn how to draw and paint. Oh, I am sorry it takes time and patience. And I am sorry if you may actually learn a new skill set. Gods forbid you do something constructive with your Pathetic Life. And if you collect government money because you claim to be dyslexic but can still type prompts for hours, you need to be arrested for embezzling and lying to the government.

27) If you create AI art to make porn because you feel you are too ugly to get into a relationship with someone, then you are a helpless case of crap. And you never will find someone so long as all you do is hide yourself in the dark corners of your house and wank off to images of 7 fingered and 3 legged people created with AI. And you are right....No REAL human being will want to be with you. You think you are ugly? Yeah, well you are. Your soul is filthy and so is your mind. You never will get that dream guy you are asking the computer to make. About the only people that MAY want you is another AI renderer. And really, what sort of life would that be? Two pathetic losers living together, living fake lives? YOU ARE ALL JUST UGLY LOSERS!

28) If you know all this and still play with AI generators anyway, you are a Demonic Monster. And I most certainly pray for your destruction. Just put a gun in your mouth and take yourself out of the gene pool.

===============================================================In short, AI art is NOT ART and never will be ART. Art can only be created by human beings. No other creature on this planet. Art is the product of imagination, study, time, practice, technique, style, control and love. Art is not JUST expressing yourself, it's the ability to step back and look at the completed work and gain a sense of accomplishment, be its good or bad. And from that completed work, we learn how to improve. Art comes from the mind, heart and the soul. AI imagers are not artists. It takes away the very things that make us human.

I seriously do not care if this post causes me to lose any or all of my watchers with this post. I would rather have no watchers at all than a whole bunch of demonic AI crime lords on my board, there just for a quick steal or sexual fix. And I find solus in that when the time comes, all the people that use AI generators are destined for hell.

If you are an AI "art creator", you are a pathetic piece of life form that need to be publicly executed and your body rocketed into the sun for all the sin, harm, lies and evil you create. Go ahead and lie to yourself and the world. Show us exactly who you are. It will make it easier for us to find you and make Satan's job so much easier when your time comes.

[doloresrojo]

Is it bad of me to say that, it makes me feel better about the fact that none of the Velaryon boys will survive the war, to know that Aegon and Aemond will not either (Helaena won't as well, but that doesn't makes me glad).

It's just seeing how much Jace is trying to be worthy of his valyrian heritage, which also worries me, cause that can become an obsession and can lead to his downfall. Where is the Tyrion Lannister figure that tells him to embrace his bastardness so no one can use it against him????. In fact, flaunt it, call yourself Strong as many times you can, talk about how great Harwin Strong was, say that Lyonel Strong was the best hand of the king there ever was. Even go as far to say that Larrys is the best successor house Strong could ask for (even though I would need to cleanse myself with bleach and boiling water after that). I know is not smart, but god damn... wouldn't that be something?.

And Lucerys, poor Lucerys, he feels so guilty and ashamed for what he did to Aemond; he can't look at him, even though Aemond really brought that on himself. And Aemond, that coward, he couldn't stand seeing Luke finally relaxed, but of course he waited Viserys to be gone to be an actual piece of shit.

The Velaryon boys are so sweet and overall... good (Jon Snow is their descendent, I decided). That knowing that they wont make it breaks my heart, and it helps to know that Aegon and Aemond wont as well.

And to a not so serious observation, but something that gave me joy, was Mysaria, strong and thriving, with her beautiful white dress and classy hairdo. I cannot wait to see the things she will do.

[honey-lemonz]

Kokushibou [Satisfied smut]

Xmale reader

3rd

Warning! Sexual Content!

Includes: stress sex, fight then fuck, koku being a bratty bottom, biting,blowjob, marking, multiple orgasms ,multiple rounds, over stimulation,  dirty talk, fighting during sex, degradation (heavly). Hiding, slapping, spitng, and a spite fuck. Goodness..Enjoy!

Kokushibou pushed the archer against the wall as both were fighting.

For almost 7 hours.

(M/n) or the archer was happily living on his land and was fine but. The dam fake Samurai had other plans to upset that. Like attacking him. Gods they hated each other..

To the point it was not comical.. no no.

Sexual almost.

Two strong men grunting and groaning, one with blood all over him..for being the one with more hits. Sweat on their bodies and one with his hair arrayed. Kokushibou was losing it.

Internally and externally.

Internally he could not understand why he was feeling slightly aroused in battle, especially with this fucker. The archer demon named Yasumebu (M/n). A demon he hates because he reminds him of his late twin.

Someone who is superior and most likely would be superior to him.

He felt his cock trying to poke in his hakama pants. His kimono was sticking to the sides on his body as he was forced on to the ground. Yasumebe was about to prepare an arrow until..

Kokushibou moved his leg to reveal he was aroused but no on purpose or on invitation. But (m/n) was the only other demon around who could have done this to him. To him it was weird. He froze the arrow and squinted at the Samurai.

He but his foot on Kokushibou's growing hard on and moved it without any sign of being gently. 

Kokushibou groaned and hissed at him. About half of his eyes, the three on the left pinched shut. It was not out of pain but only pleasure. This made Yasumebe..disgusted to say the least.

But also he wanted to kill the upper rank for what he had done...but torture is always a better cause.

"Look at you..you pervert. Getting aroused with me in a fight you picked..how promiscuous..really are that much of a bastard you need a dick in you to make you feel whole?"

He moved his foot more vigorously, it made the upper rank squeak but not moan. No! He will never get any sign of pleasure from him. "I-I am not, aany an c-can get aroused. Never for oor from you-"

"Oh cut the bullshit you bastard. You attack me in my home and demand I die so you an be the best? Or is it jealousy? Jealous of me to the point you want me to fuck you? Make you a proud man with my cock stuffed into all your slutty holes?"

Kokushibou's six eyes widen. He dropped his sword from the feeling. What feeling is this? He asked himself. Demons cannot blush or anything but he could feel his ears burn and his cock ache and throb.

He hated him to the point it turned him on? Is that possible? No.

He hated Yoriichi but they were brothers and that is just wrong...but this dam archer..

Before he realized his mistake of thinking to deep, he got an arrow into his wrist and an arrow shot his sword far away from him.

"Well took you too long to answer the question so it is a yes, isn't it? Gods, I hate you but I always give whores like you a chance. By now you'd probably be satisfied sucking a cock and dying. The great upper rank one? Such a fucking slut.."

The arrow glued his wrist together so he could not move em, he could make another sword but he had to concentrate to do that.  He needed his full energy to do it but his energy was focused on..him..the archer and how he needed t̶o̶ ̶k̶i̶l̶l̶ him.

The archer pulled Kokushibou by his hair next to a stool, he was gracious or caring about it.  He hated him and as did he.

But goodness did he remember how they fought. How strong he looked and how much strength it goes into an arrow. Not that he thought the sport was worth this time, oh never. But him...it made his condition worse. His cock was probably leaking streams of precum.

"Must you fight, I am helping you. Trust me I do not want a whore like you anyways, a good one can shut up and take it..you..most likely are a brat or bitch about it.."

Kokushibou hearing this moved his combined wrist up to scratch the shit out of his arms like a fucking cat.

"Goodness if you want to mark me already! Dam, such a needy bastard...beat how many times you sucked your masters cock all these years...most likely didn't make you choke or gag for the hell of it..but now worries like defeat and death.."

He brought his up to his face. Both were around the same height, so it worked. But Kokushibou was now on a bedding and he was looking up at him. So he felt smaller. He hated it. But it aroused him.

Hate what pleasures you. But between you and I..is not the first he gotten aroused at the thought..

"I make sure to be the one to make it your first.. now if you bite he I cut you cock off too. Got it?"

Hell to Yasumebe it was an excuse to just make him feel a better or worse pain.

"Tsk, as ever I would do as you ask yo-"

He got fucking bitched slapped in the face. "Now I'm going to say this again. You were the one who got to be a perv right? You can suck your masters cock for all of eternity then you can suck a real mans one and not a cowards. Something you need to do. Bite me and you can burn in the sun with my cum all over and inside you. Now be a good brat and suck."

He stood above him with a tight grip on his head and hair. (M/n)'s own cock was out and the marvel it was had the upper rank's mouth salivating.

He just stared at it, like it was something new to him. "What you never seen another mans dick before? Always ready to ride and suck one for you life, so be the slutty brat you are and do what you know best. Go one you need help is my cock to big for your mouth? The one you use to pledge and talk shit? "

In his head he muttered, probably eat it too.

Kokushibou opened his mouth to rebuttal..dumb move. A thick and long length was shoved down deep into his throat. Making his gag on spit and the length. H opened his lower eyes to see not even all of it was in his mouth. The hell?

(M/n) hissed and moved his hips back and forth, he was fucking his face. "Good little slut, do what you know best bastard. Then maybe I can fuck your other hole, maybe even be nice and let you cum.:

Kokushibou groaned on his cock and moved tied wrist to get a grip and move on his own accord, but no avail. His own cock was in need of help. His mind was erasing with how much pleasure would come if he would get fucked like a whore.

Which he is.

His tongue lapped at the lip and it moved in and out his throat. He was pumping his cock with his hands at the same momentum. So feverish and so tempting, it make slick warm between his thighs. His ass flexed at the homewreacking feeling.

His large cock pushing in and out of his made him close two sets of his eyes and let where his true ones stay open. (M/n) hissed and pushed his head all the way to the hilt of his cock and made his stay there. Groaning as Kokushibou's mouth filled with an ocean of cum he swallowed.

The taste wasn't as bad as he imagined. His cock spurted some ropes of cum but he knew with how his luck was playing it would not be the first time tonight. He was allowed to breathe and swallow the rest. 

(M/n) looked down at him, his eyes were glossy and he was gasping for air.."Goodness you really are that bad.."

Kokushibou didn't care about his pride or his will, or even the envy. He felt hatred and pleasure. He needed to feel more, it was so addicting. It was like a slow burn he loved. The fire in the pit of his stomach burned for more. To be full , imagining that amount of cum stuffing his tight entrance or making his abdomen bulge..

To be breeded like a mating whore for him..

(M/n) pushed the Samurai to the side of the bedding and for him to be on his front. Ass up, he pulled the rest of his clothing off him. He would often scratch him or put marks he knew he could heal over..if he was concentrated enough.

His plump ass had goosebumps as his breath glazed across it. No kissing rather biting. He bite down on his ass. "For such a plump ass, you and kiss a lot of it aye? Sluts like you can be so troublesome but in the end.."

H sat up and got close to Kokushibou's ear. He moved his already messy and disheveled hair. His lapped his ear lobe and bite down to make it bleed.

"All of you are just bratty whores who need to be taught their place..." Two fingers were pushed into his slicked up entrance and they clung onto (M/n)'s fingers like glue. Kokushibou moaned out curses as he slumped down. He turned his head to the side to he the rest of his.

It felt too dam good. His fingers were so close to his prostate and so close to making his mind wipe to pure ecstasy and pleasure, even if he wasn't at it already. He moaned out without a care in the world. Asking no begging for more. It made (m/n) want to torture him more..

They did hate each other, but to one it was just funny.

"M-more, please fuck me more gods..please..fu-fu~ck.." he cursed as he spread his legs wider to make his fingers go deeper to touch or even at least brush his prostate.

His eyes were closed except the true ones, the only one he could keep open. Upper rank one was glossy and also looked like a bunch of whores eyes. He bucked his hips when his own forgotten and needy cock was slowly getting pumped.

"Wait- WAI- no ahh~" As soon as he pumped his length and pushed deeper into his hole, feeling for his prostate. He came again onto the bedding. He gasped loudly and slumped over. Kokushibou's cock twitched but was still erect.

"Well, what was it you were saying bastard? Or were you too busy cumming like a little whore to even finish? Hmm well it guess my cock can satisfy your perverted self, disgusting."

He spat on his gasping hole and moved his fingers out. The amount of slick or cum on his fingers made him laugh at the pathetic state of the upper rank. "Wow, such a slut for all this? Wonder how easy it is to break your ass and see you go silly."

He yanked almost his hips back up to his waist, Kokushibou swallowed thickly at what was about to happen. (M/n) stroke himself and placed the tip of his cock on Kokushibou's gaping whole.

"One more thing pervert.."

He leaned forward to upper rank one, Kokushibou felt his chilling breath on his ear. All his eyes widen as his cock slowly pushed into him. 

He whispered:

"I win slut.."

He slammed his cock into him, pushing harshly onto his prostate and making the upper rank yelp and moan loudly. He almost screamed, (M/n) gave him no time to adjust. Rather he fucked him ruthlessly. He used his hair and yanked it, making him look at the ceiling and also to feel himself hit deeper and deeper.

Kokusibou was babbling about more and more. Or how he hated him. Just either 'fuck me' or 'i hate you'. The archer demon did not care. He was a slutty pervert who got what he wanted. A good cock with a good fuck.

"Such a tight- little slutty whole..gods, im going to loosen it up for you and make sure no one couuld fuck you like I- ah~could..you'd like that Kokushibou? To be a slut and ask others to fill you with their cocks like I do?"

He thrusted faster and harder, Kokushibo's prostate was abused and he felt himself cum again and again. Due to his unlimited stamina and would be fine. But he was feeling drained, he felt so fucking stupid. He was getting fucked stupid even more.

(M/n) hissed when Kokushibou tightened around him, he groaned and growled as he shot thick ropes of cum into his ass. Filling him over his opacity and making his abdomen stretch to accommodate to the amount. 

All his eyes, closed with tear stains. Kokushibo's head was let go and he fell straight into the bedding. (M/n) looked at him and didn't bat an eye to spit on his face. His lower half was with filled with cum or covered in it. He cleaned himself and took his arrow out of his wrist and gathered the rest.

He looked one more time at the upper rank. The most feared of them all, looking like a slut in heat. He pulled the hair that would have been a neat pony tail but now is just out and disheveled. He made him look him in his eye.

"See now upper rank? Such a pathetic fighter and warrior, you did do one thing. Your were a decent fuck, not the best but decent." he patted his head and walked out the destroyed house.

Soon it was lit on fire. To destroy what ever was left.

Kokushibou luckily got away and out of the suns fury. But he did hate the archer demon with all he had, and envy him so much. But fuck... he sighed as he stroked his cock from the memory.

"He was right.."

His licked away the cum from his ass as he pulled away his fingers and from his hand. His cock throbbed at the dull feeling. The lackluster feeling inside him only his enemy gave him.

"I am such a whore for yasumebe.."

[kakyoinswifey]

Can you do a headcanon of Levi asserting his feelings and caring for fem s/o after her ex boyfriend abandons her without saying anything?

I hope this is not your experience, anon :( If so, I am very sorry for him, because he has lost someone very special, you deserve better things💗

Levi asserting his feelings after his s/o was abandoned by her boyfriend

Levi would immediately worry about your state of mind. He does not know how to react to your face of sadness and bewilderment, much less if he does not know the reason for this either.

Think that maybe you should be alone for a moment to clarify your ideas, so he will not attack you with meaningless questions because it would only overwhelm you.

He realizes that this doesn't work, so he'll take time off from his military duties and look for you. When he finds you crying in your room, he feels his heart break.

He knows that his feelings for you shouldn't get in the way of your friendship, but he can't help it.

He walks over to you and wraps his arms around you. If you welcome this display of affection, he will cuddle up to you and stroke your hair to calm your sobs.

"Calm down, I'm with you." He says with a low voice and softening his tone so as not to scare you.

If you decide to tell him, he will just hold your hand tightly.

"He's a coward and a bastard, he doesn't deserve you to shed tears for him." The hatred he feels is present, but he knows that it is not the way to make you feel better. "You are the most wonderful person that can exist, someone who cannot understand that and is unable to value it should not be the one who receives your love."

Perhaps he is indirectly telling you to look at him. In his own way, of course. His voice is soothing and you will probably fall asleep with his company.

He will take you to your bed and tuck you in with the blankets. He doesn't want to leave your side, but he doesn't want to bother you either. Before leaving, he will give you a kiss on the forehead.

"Maybe one day you can give me the opportunity that he rejected."

[forever-rogue]

Hii! From Prompt List 1 can u do number 3,51 and 243 w javier peña please ✨

Also i love ur writings so much ⭐

3. "Am I supposed to be scared of you?"

51. "Go on them, tell me. Tell me you don't love me."

243. "Oh my God, you're in love with her!"

Enjoy!

Javier Peña x Fem!Reader ; warnings: language

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Tell me," there was nothing but venom lacing your voice as you stared at Javier. Your face was slick with tears as you tried to keep your lips from trembling. You wanted to break down, gods knew you did, but you weren't about to give him the satisfaction. You would do that as soon as he walked out of your apartment for what would be the last time, "go on then, tell me. Tell me you don't love me."

"Don't do this cariño," the bastard had the audacity to try and call you by your pet name, "you know this is the way. The only way."

"You're such a damn liar," you hissed at him. You should have seen this coming. You should have known. 

You shouldn't have fallen in love with Javier Peña.

"We always knew what we were doing was wrong," it was a meek insistence, hollow and empty and neither of you quite believed it, "it was never supposed to go this far."

"This far? This far?" you wanted to scream, to grab his shoulders and shake him, to knock some sort of sense into him, but instead you just stared at him, eyes glossy with unshed tears, "did you think we would fuck and that’s it? I told you it was never going to be just that. And you never seemed to have a problem with that."

"You need to stop," this time it was more firm and his nostrils flared as he tried to control the hit of rage that had seemed into his bones, "we both knew what this was from the start. It was just sex."

"You're here, in my apartment, lying to my face," you sniffled as you dabbed at your eyes and wished you would wake up to find this was a horrible dream. You wished you'd wake up, wrapped in his arms while he slept soundly, like you had so many other times. You wished, you wished, you wished. But that didn't change the reality of the situation, nor the gravitas of it, "if you can look in my eyes and tell me you don't love me - never loved me - do it. If you can do it, I'll let this go."

"You're being ridiculous," he huffed and rolled his eyes ever so slightly as his hands went to his hips. 

"I'm being ridiculous?" your voice rose up about two octaves as you realized just how hysterical you did sound. But it didn't matter - once Javier had made up his mind, he was a stubborn piece of work. But you refused to let this go, "I'm not the grown man that won't even admit his own feelings. That runs every time something comes up. That shuts out everyone and everything anytime it gets real."

"Maybe you're just thinking too much into this!" and there it was - the fiery temper that he was famous for. It wasn't shocking because it had suddenly jumped out; it was shocking because he'd never raised his voice at you, "maybe you just want to make something out of nothing! It was never anything - it was just sex. Why can't you just accept that?"

"Am I supposed to be scared of you?" you raised your voice and yelled back with just as much as anger and spite as he spit at you, "you're a liar and a coward. You can't even look at me - if you don't love me fucking tell me!"

"I'm not doing this right now," he huffed as stepped over the threshold, shoulders rising and falling in rapid movements as tired to control his anger, "I'm done - whatever we had, its over now."

"Javier," you tried to reach for his hand, but he was quick to pull out of your grasp, causing you to sigh heavily, "don't walk away - not like this."

"There's nothing left to say," he insisted quietly, staring at the floor, rather than daring to look in your eyes, "I'll see you at work and that's that. Everything else is done. Obviously you cannot handle this."

"You're just going to walk away," you were incredulous as a few tears of grief and anger rolled down your cheeks, "fuck you, Javier. I hate you." 

You slammed the door shut before he could say anything else. Tears were heavily pouring down your cheeks and spilling onto the cool slide as you sank to the floor. Small ugly little sobs racked your body as you gave up and in to your pathetic inner, upset self. You loved him, you really, really did. You knew that. 

You knew he loved you too. You knew he was scared. Damn scared. And it was okay - if he would have opened up to you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You look like shit,” Steve barely looked up from his coffee and morning review of documents as Javier stormed in, practically slamming himself down in his chair. He groaned and flipped Steve the middle finger before reaching for his cigarettes, effortlessly lighting it up and leaning back, “what happened to you?”

Javier closed his eyes but remained silent, a vain attempt at letting his mind wander too far. He hadn’t slept the night before, mind and thoughts racing over and over with snippets of his conversation with you. Your words had stuck in his mind all night: coward, coward, coward. And you had been right. 

He was a coward; pathetic and scared all because he didn’t want to risk getting hurt. Or hurting you. And in the end he had managed to do both. It was never supposed to go this far, it was never supposed to be anything more than sex, but the lines had become so blurred and so fast, and before he knew - he was in love.

And that terrified the shit out of him. 

So he reacted how he tended to do; to push you away. To isolate himself. It was supposed to be easy, supposed to work. All it had down was leave him with regret eating him up alive. He should have admitted you were right, he should have confessed. If there was anyone worth taking a chance on - it was you. He’d known it was you from the first time you’d had sex it was just...different. Different from every other experience he’d had. And gods, how he’d slowly fallen for all the little things you did, all your little quirks. 

Your smile, that laugh, those eyes that seemed to convey a million emotions at once. Your steadfast stubbornness, the fact that you always called him on his bullshit, how you never backed down from confrontation, how you gave so much to others and asked for so little. How you’d chide him for getting even a papercut, and how you’d love him, even when he didn’t ask you to. How you;d take him in your arms, wordlessly, and give him everything he needed and then some, how you’d chase away his fears and pain. How - 

Everything. 

He was in deep, and when it came down to the wire, he’d run. Like a liar and a coward. 

His eyes snapped open and landed on the desk, the spot you normally occupied and found it empty. A scowl tugged on his features as his brows knitted together, “where is she?”

“Hmm?” Steve looked back up and followed Javi’s line of sight before he shrugged lightly, “I talked to her this morning, said she wasn’t feeling good.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed under his breath, just enough for Steve to hear, “did she say when she’s coming back?”

“I dunno, Javi,” Steve sighed heavily, “she’s a grown woman, if she’s not feeling well, she’s not feeling well. She’ll be back when she’s better. Calm down.”

“Steve-”

“Oh god - you’re in love with her. Aren’t you?” the smirk tugging on his features was undeniable as Javier rolled his eyes but refused to look over, “I knew it - everyone knew it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” his mouth went dry as he looked at his partner and felt like slamming his head against the wall. Of course. It’s so obvious.

“I mean...it’s just...everyone’s known, Javi,” Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the surprised look on his face, “it’s so obvious. You’re different because of her - for her. You might be the last person to know. Shit...you haven’t told her, have you?”

Javier made a small sound in his throat but otherwise remained silent as he stared at your desk. Not feeling well my ass, he thought to himself before running a hand over his tired face. 

But you didn’t come back the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. Or - 

Shit. He had really messed up. 

You were all he could think about, plaguing his waking and sleeping hours as he tried to figure out what to do. His mind was on you as he sat in the office and smoked cigarette after cigarette and glossed over paperwork. You were in his every thought as he and Steve chased after some of Escobar’s men; so much that he almost slipped up and let them get away. 

By Friday afternoon, he couldn’t handle it any longer. This was ridiculous and he was going to put an end to it all, one way or another.

Javier almost jumped out of his seat, grabbing his leather jacket and half empty pack of cigarettes without a word as he stormed out of the office. Steve barely looked up in time to catch him, his question dying on his tongue as he watched his partner storm out. He didn’t have to ask to know exactly what was going on.

Finally, he thought to himself shaking his head, finally. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Open the door," Javier's voice was commanding but it still managed to shake as he rapped his knuckles against the peeling paint of your door, "cariño, I know you're in there…"

And you were. You were curled up on the couch in your pajamas, an empty bottle of wine on the table as an old, cheesy romance movie played in the background. The lights were off and you were tired, but you still couldn't manage to find sleep. 

You'd avoided going into the office for the last couple of days, feigning illness and earning a scoff from the ambassador, but nothing else was said. In the time you'd been in Colombia, you'd never so much as used a single sick day, so they didn't question you. But of course your partners did. Well, one of them. The other had known exactly what was going and it had been eating him up inside, even if he wasn't ready to admit it.

But his little heart to heart with Steve had inspired him - practically shoved him in the right direction. You'd been on his mind rent free since he'd left. Hell - for much longer than that.

"Go away," you managed to croak out before burrowing further into your pillow, feeling a fresh wave of tears spill down your cheeks at his presence. Knowing you almost had him but didn't was heartbreaking, "you made it clear we have nothing, Javier.”

“Open the damn door,” there was a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard before - was that...desperation? Javier paused and sighed heavily, “please. I-I...fuck, I fucked up.”

“If you’re going to play some sort of cruel joke, save your breath,” you huffed, “like you said, we are nothing. We’ll be work partners and that’s it.”

There was a beat of silence and a part of you thought he left, you were almost relieved at the thought. But before you knew it, you heard the keys jingling in the lock and the door opened; you cursed yourself for giving him a spare set. Either way, he probably could have figured out how to get in anyways. He just couldn’t let it go.

“Cariño,” he came and swiftly made his way over to you, frowning when he saw you all curled up and the discarded mess around you, "I-"

"Go away, Javi," it was a pathetic plea as you glanced up at him. His heart felt it was going to shatter and break at the sight of your red, glossy eyes as you sniffled at him, "haven't you done enough? Or should I be apologizing for having feelings and being honest about them?"

"I should be begging you for forgiveness," he dropped to his knees beside you, a hand tentatively reaching out to you, as he tried to see if you would pull away. Despite wanting to, instead wishing you could yell and scream, you stay rooted in position as he gently pushed your hair out of your hair. He brushed his thumb gently over your cheek as your eyes fluttered closed at the familiar touch, "I am so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" your brow furrowed at his words, "you made yourself very clear."

"I fucked up - you're right. I am a liar and a coward," he confessed as your eyes snapped back open to meet his. They were gentle, softened in the corners with the crinkles that you adored so much, "I realized I had feelings and I panicked. I shut you out and hurt you."

"My head hurts, Javier," you sighed slightly, "just get to the point."

"I love you," he admitted and suddenly it felt your heart had dropped into your stomach as you stared at him. He was sure you must have heard the wild beating of his heart as he tried to anticipate your reaction, "I-I'm in love with you."

"If this is your idea of a joke," you moved his hand away and sat up, trying to prepare yourself for any possibility, "its even more fucked up than just breaking my heart. I knew what this started this and I should have stopped it when I started to catch feelings but I-"

But Javier didn't let you say anything further. Instead, he cut you off by crashing his lips onto yours and kissing you deeply - slowly and with meaning. It was an easy dance, one you'd done hundreds of times before. But this time just felt...different.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close, and yours wound around his neck. Effortless and easy, just like everything with him was. It was anything frenzied or hurried, but slow and gentle as he tried to convey his every thought and feeling through his touch. He thought his heart might burst when he felt your smile whilst his lips, as you carded a hand through his dark locks.

Only when you were both breathless and drunk off of each other did you pull apart. He stared at you, his gaze soft as you grabbed his face and delicately cradled it before pressing another kiss to his lips.

"I hope this means what I think it means or I'm going to have to murder you," you whispered against his lips, as his own tugged into a smile, "because I am in love you and I don't know if I can ever change that."

"It means I'm an idiot," he admitted, "a cowardly fool that ran when things got real - although they were always real. Its obvious, isn't it? I just never realized."

"That's because you gave a thick skull, Peña," you gently tapped a knuckle against the side of his head, "and you need to learn to be more open - with me anyway. You don't have to be afraid, Javi. Not with me; I'm not going anywhere, you know that. I know you - the real you - and nothing about you scares me or whatever you think it is. I love you and that means every little bit of you."

"I…" he paused for a moment, inhaling and exhaling slowly as your words washed over him. His heart had never felt warmer or more light as he realized the immense weight your words held. He closed his eyes and nodded, gently pressing his forehead against yours, "I love you. Fully and completely cariño. Even if I am an idiot."

"My idiot," you promised softly, "just talk to me next time, okay? Don't run and hide - stay with me. It'll be okay, you will always have me."

"Fuck," he whispered as he pulled you into his arms and wrapped you up in the tightest hug possible, "I'm sorry - so sorry. I love you."

"I love you, Javier," you whispered, "stay with me?"

"Always."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Permanent Taglist: @secretsweetscollectionblog  @sheridans-dynamos  @queenbbarnes  @persephonesnebula   @ah-callie  @blushingwueen  @thisis-theway @rosetophighlander  @rae-gar-targaryen    @hiscyarika  @readsalot73  @huliabitch  @ollyoxenfrees @coffeeandtodd  @beepbeepsephy   @scarlettwitcher  @nerdyknightwritersblog  @choicesarcade  @arrowswithwifi  @everythingaboutnothingstuff  @suckerfor-fanfics  @bestintheparsec @javihoney  @aeryntheofficial  @hail-doodles @engineeredfiction @aeryntheofficial  @asgardianvamp21  @keithseabrook27  @karmezii  @dearspacepirates  @thatsuitlooksgoodonyou  @paintballkid711 @mrpascals @lv7867 @artsymaddie @gooddaykate @rosiefridayrogersunday @heyitmelexie @criminalmind1927 @justanotherblonde23 @coni-martina @thewayofthemandalorian @phoenixhalliwell @lucifer @cosmoschick @kochamcie @linkpk88 @leaiorganas @nikkixostan @haley-the-comet

[greensaplinggrace]

.........anyways, talk to me about how after 500 years, mal and darkling still can't say 'i love you' without making it a) sound like a joke, b) sound like a threat OR c) one of them being 'this' close to dying

I love how you send me this ask and then have the gall to ask me if I'm okay in the tags of my (admittedly very chaotic) Malarklina post! Like wtf this is so angsty! I mean it's also some great insight into their characters and their relationships with the word love, specifically in regards to each other. But now you've given me Emotions (tm) about these two idiots and I can't stop thinking about this.

Anyways, Mal says it first.

For weeks he's planned it: the perfect moment, the perfect words. He'll take Aleksander out to a field of blue irises and lay a quilt atop the grass. Then he'll lay Aleksander upon it.

It will be intimate and tender. Like Mal's done with Alina hundreds of times before and Aleksander has done the same in turn, the both of them speaking softly into her ear, bodies pressed so tightly together.

Except this time, the words won't be for Alina.

This time, Mal will take the other man into his arms as they always do at night. He will press kisses into Aleksander's skin, tell him that he's beautiful, that he's special, that he's wicked and kind and tastes of chocolate. And then Mal will tell him - he will. In that perfect, beautiful moment, he'll tell Aleksander he loves him.

The trip is planned for tomorrow afternoon, supplies packed and horses readied. Mal is nervous, palms sweating. Even after hundreds of years his heart still races like a lovestruck teenager when he thinks of them. It is an emotion he'd thought he'd lose as he grew older. One that has instead grown stronger, fiercer, more debilitating than ever.

His mouth tastes of sand and his mind flashes to their long, drawn out history. All of the ups and downs and violent, deadly strikes at each other's weaknesses. He thinks of Aleksander's scars and Alina's hair and the mark of an arrow just a hairs breadth away from his own soft heart - things he should be over by now. But he's not, and Aleksander's not. And they are all, probably, not.

So Mal is nervous and excited and maybe a little bit in love. He wipes his sweaty palms on his pants and reminds his racing heart of the way Aleksander had brushed his hair from his forehead the other night, fingertips feather light against Mal's skin and expression softened by adoration. He reminds himself of the way Aleksander had tucked his face into Alina's neck and curled around her under the covers, Mal's hand pulled over his side and held tightly to his chest.

Mal doesn't have to remind himself that he loves Aleksander. That one comes like breathing.

All he has to do is say it.

Aleksander is himself, of course, the night before. Not at all nervous. Instead watchful and sharp, slate grey eyes following Mal around the house in dedicated vigil. He's trying Mal's patience, ready to pounce on any piece of information Mal might let slip about his plans - observing and waiting under the likely impression that he appears the predator - but Mal has known this man for centuries and finds himself only amused by the evidence that Aleksander is dreadfully curious.

Mal raises a brow at the other man's impenetrable gaze and reveals nothing. Aleksander goes to bed frustrated that night, and Mal can't say that either he or Alina are unhappy with the development.

The next day, they ride out on a bright, sunny morning. The wind ruffles Aleksander's hair and puts a blush on his cheeks. Mal imagines that he looks much the same, grinning widely over at the other man, heart pounding, as they ride all the way to the meadow.

Then he spreads out the quilt, lays Aleksander upon it, and presses kisses into his skin.

And that is all he can do with his mouth, for the entire afternoon, words dead on his tongue.

He does not say it.

He cannot say it.

They return home later that night pleased and sated, quiet, with the words, as always, left unspoken between them.

---

Afterward, the months pass in a blank, formless blur. Mal tries to focus on other things, like patching the roof of their small cottage and tending to the garden and dedicating inordinate amounts of time to making both Alina and Aleksander flush. He tries very hard not to think about that day, and the night before, and how certain he'd been of his bravery.

He feels like a coward.

And then the riders come, with swords and guns and fire, burning their life to ground in an instant, and suddenly Mal doesn't have the time to feel much of anything anymore. He runs from the house, pulled along by Alina and pulling her in turn, barely dodging the whistle of a bullet, and thanks every Saint he can remember for the sight of Aleksander's dark figure at the treeline.

Zhenya is a beauty of a horse, strong and lean with a coat of pure silken white. Aleksander tugs at her reigns to calm her, seated upon Ilya at her side, and wastes no time in turning them both in the only direction they can flee as Mal pulls himself and Alina onto Zhenya's saddle.

Alina turns with a whip of her hands, brilliant light blinding their pursuers, and Mal follows the blackened trail of shadows that coalesce all around them.

Hoofbeats chase them for miles, the sound of pursuit relentless and daunting. Mal doesn't have his bow; he doesn't have his gun. Alina shivers against him in the cool night air wearing nothing but a thin shift, and Aleksander looms ahead of them dark and dangerous but ever so weary, haunted by weeks of insomnia and nights spent awake.

They are going to die. His partners. The people he loves.

They are not ready for this.

And they aren't ready for the cliff, either - the end of the forest and the sudden break in the earth. Aleksander shouts, Ilya rearing, and Mal only has a moment to even think to pull on Zhenya's reigns before she's bucking, whinnying in terror, and Mal is sent flying through the air.

He hits the ground with a curse, tumbling forward and scrambling desperately at the loose dirt for anything to halt his progress. There's nothing - nothing - and everything goes white.

"Alina," he gasps, mind blank except for the sheer, mind numbing terror that she could already be gone. And when he finally reaches the cliffside and the floor falls out from underneath him, all he can do is feel his heart plummet to his stomach.

He chokes out a yell and clenches his eyes shut, still reaching for anything that could keep him here by Alina's side - by Aleksander's side. Then a hand closes around his wrist, grip hot and hard and painful, and Mal is met quite suddenly with the solid ground again as his face meets the cliffside.

He swings for a second in the air, attempting to find purchase along the rocks with his feet, and looks up to see Aleksander above him. The man is wide-eyed, lips parted, staring down at him as if his entire world is coming to an end, fingers white with the strength of his hold on Mal, and Mal thinks for one bright, clarifying second that oh, this is what true fear looks like.

He wonders blankly if Alina would have seen it on himself not two seconds ago when he'd believed her dead.

"Don't let go," Aleksander tells him - demands of him, the controlling bastard.

He's looking for a promise, Mal realizes. But his voice is shaking, arms unsteady, cheek painted in red. Blood drips down his chin from a wound on his forehead, face pressed against the cool earth and eyelashes fluttering. His grip on the edge of the cliff is weak at best, and Alina's shouting voice is too far away to share some of the weight.

We're going to fall.

"We're going to fall."

Aleksander blinks at him for a second, bleary eyed. Then he swallows, breaths coming out shorter, heavier. Mal's known him long enough to realize when panic is setting in. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Mal tells him, because he is. Because he wants nothing more than to be with these people forever.

Alina, he thinks again, and wishes fervently that she were here.

Aleksander is shaking his head, swallowing roughly, lips forming a pained, desperate "no." But no sound slips out. His grasp slips, fingers loosening, and Mal can see him straining to keep them both in place.

"I love you," Mal breathes out, overcome with the sudden desire to say it again and again every day for the rest of their lives. "I love you. I'm sorry. I love you."

"No!" Aleksander roars furiously, eyes wide and expression stricken, thunder cracking in a blackened sky.

Mal lets go.

Aleksander exhales sharply, face going white as his grip slackens, fingers grasping at nothing but air. "N-no."

And Mal falls.