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sunkissed-zegras · 2 months

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🌱 wedding dress shopping w your mom and ellen... you like a dress but it's over your budget but jack gave his card to ellen and ends up spoiling you

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 | jh⁸⁶

♡ ─ word count | 704

♡ ─ warnings | slight angst (y/n being sad over a dress) but cute mom/ellen/you moment!!!!!

♡ ─ ev's notes | jack seems like the type to drop 50k on a wedding dress LMAO (as he should)

"Oh my gosh, this one looks like my wedding dress!" Your mom gasped as she touched the dress, a warm smile on her smile. You gasped at that, touching it as well. Ellen smiled as she watched you and your mom continue to admire the dress.

"Oh, does it really?" Ellen chuckled, a fondness evident in her voice. "We have to look at the old pictures when we get home again, I love good old wedding photos."

You nodded, still marveling at the dress that bore a resemblance to your mother's. The three of you were in a bridal boutique, surrounded by lace, satin, and tulle in every shade imaginable.

"I remember the day I found my dress," Ellen continued, her eyes sparkling with memories. "It was such a special moment, just like this one. It's a dress that holds so much good memories, despite the stress that comes along a wedding."

Your mother laughed, her eyes reflecting the shared memories of her own wedding day. "Yes, despite the stress, it was one of the happiest days of my life. And finding the perfect dress made it even more special."

Ellen nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. There's something magical about finding that one dress that makes you feel like a princess."

Your mother began walking away from the dress, looking around. "Anything catch your eye yet, sweetie?"

You shook your head as you sighed. You were still thinking about the dress you had found a couple days ago but you had decided it was way other budget, not being able to justify spending that much money on a dress.

Ellen noticed the hint of disappointment in your expression and stepped closer, her eyes filled with warmth. "Is everything alright, Y/N?"

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to share your dilemma. Finally, you took a deep breath and spoke, "I found a dress a couple of days ago that I absolutely fell in love with. It was perfect in every way, but..." You trailed off, the weight of your decision hanging in the air.

"But it was way over budget," Ellen finished your sentence, her voice gentle yet understanding. "Sweetheart, finding the perfect dress is not just about the price tag. It's about how it makes you feel, the emotions it evokes. If there's a particular dress that captured your heart, it shouldn't matter how much it is."

Your mother, sensing your hesitation, chimed in with a reassuring smile. "Your happiness is what matters the most. We can always explore options, but if you're still thinking about it then we should look at it again, babe."

"But it was way over budget-"

"Y/N." Ellen said firmly. "It doesn't matter the price, Jack told me to make sure to get any dress you want. Jack wouldn't even notice how much we took, plus all he wants is his future wife to be happy." She smiled as you laughed.

You sighed as you nodded. "Okay, then."

"Sweetheart, it's not even gonna make a dent in his bank account, trust me." Ellen joked as you laughed again. "And plus, your wedding day is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion, and you deserve to feel like a princess."

Your mother nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the same sentiment. "Ellen's right, sweetheart. Jack loves you more than anything, and he wants to see you happy on your wedding day. If this dress is the one that makes you feel that way, then let's make it happen."

Finally, unable to resist any longer, the boutique attendant brought out the dream dress once again. As you slipped into it, a sense of certainty washed over you. The delicate details, the way it made you feel – it was worth every penny, especially knowing that Jack wanted you to have the dress that would make you happy.

Ellen and your mom exchanged knowing glances as you twirled in front of the mirror, a radiant smile on your face. Their silent approval meant more to you than words could express.

"This is it," you said, your voice filled with certainty.

"Oh, sweetheart, you look absolutely breathtaking," Ellen whispered, genuine happiness radiating from her. Your mom, too, had tears in her eyes as she watched you.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#❀ evangeline's 1k celly!!⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚#nhl angst #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl players #nhl #nhl fic #hockey #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes smut #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes x y/n #luke hughes #jack hughes blurb #new jersey devils #nj devils

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weirdmageddon · 9 months

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botk link and zelda were always fated to care for each other that much. because of the ontology of time travel the fact that they exist at all is literally proof of it

if two of the same people enter a timeloop (A and B) with each other, A will become B who will eventually break out of it and leave the loop. each of these take place at their respective “presents”, so what is future and past is relative. (excuse the hs but it illustrates my point perfectly)

it was always destined to happen that zelda would get the stone. she is locked into that reality, it needed to happen. if she didn’t, rauru would have no one to place his bets on and ganondorf probably wouldve taken over hyrule completely. zelda likely wouldn’t have been born in the first place (or link for that matter).

when looking at the source of events that follow (zelda and link descending under the castle and finding ganondorf and the stone), they seem to be unrelated to anything else that caused them. zelda becoming a dragon does not change where she originated from since she had to originate from somewhere, and she tells the founding king and queen that she is the daughter of king bosphoramus hyrule, meaning her origin is in fact from the future relative to that time.

these are paradoxes that typically get solved by calling them spontaneous.

her birth was of seemingly spontaneous origin (and zelda did exist as a dragon at the same time of her birth, but the light dragon’s relative position exists much later on her own timeline). but it was also zelda’s precise actions that enabled the conditions for her birth in the first place (in a way similar to the paradox clones in homestuck, a case of an ontological paradox). hyrule castle was literally erected to hold the seal rauru had on ganondorf, and rauru could only have made that sacrifice to bind his magic after trusting the future for the swordsman zelda mentioned, link. it was a shot in the dark; if zelda didn’t have that much trust and conviction in link and speak so highly of him, rauru likely wouldn’t have made that sacrifice since it would’ve had no faithful payoff, have only delayed the inevitable for future generations to deal with without any certainty that they would be defended. ganondorf likely would have slaughtered his opposition and hyrule’s future would’ve been much, much different from how we know it now.

zelda and link’s love and trust for each other is quite literally responsible for the conditions for their existence in the first place. if their love and loyalty to each other isn’t 1000%, they don’t exist and neither does hyrule as we know it. their love and care for each other spans AGES and is literally singlehandedly responsible for keeping hyrule as it is instead of a hostile dangerous gladiator existence like ganondorf’s ideal world. since they were, in fact, born, they were always fated to care for each other this much, like ontologically.

#botw #totk #zelink #loz #totk spoilers #totk meta

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angelwhisp3rs · 3 months

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⍣ ೋ star crossed

Pairing: RE4!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Two lovers, destined to not be together all across history

Tags: fluff; angst, a little gory (not descriptive! but tragedies happen); there is a happy ending (i'd kms if it didnt); they just suffer a lot

Notes: imagined that as i listened to a disney songs playlist, and i couldnt hold myself back. This was a little different for me, so any feedback is welcomed (pls be kind ill cry)

Rome, 456.

As the moon reached the sky, shining upon the stars, Empress Serena gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, the future of the Roman Empire: little Leo. He grew to be strong and dashing, a dignified heir to such a impotent throne.

Unfortunately, the royal life proved to be unforgiving with so many obligations, and the certainty that no matter what he did, it would never be enough.

As the empire went through a rough patch, so did his relationship with the townsfolk - whenever he believed he was doing something helpful, the critics were always the first ones to prove otherwise.

In a particular evening, an old lady in one of the poorest villages stomped into the castle, and pointed directly at Leo as he sat in his throne, sending a powerful spell on his way: “Your actions ought to be punished for all of your existence, and as long as you live, your heart shall never be free! For all eternity, like the sun and moon, your heart won't be complete!”

With the heavy words, she was escorted away from the palace, as Leo's heart felt heavy. She must be just some crazed lady.

Oh, how wrong he was.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Through his traveling and diplomatic affairs, Leo met a bright woman in Egypt. Her eyes shined like the brightest constellation in the sky, her wits were unmatched, and her body could lure even the blind. To say he fell in love was an understatement.

“On another visit?” she asked him as they met, her eyebrow arched.

“Egypt is quite successful these days. I can’t miss on opportunities” Leo answered with a knowing smirk, the back of his fingers caressing her jaw.

She looked up at him, her eyes sincere in her feelings as his touch was very welcomed “Opportunities or people?”

“I think you know the answer.” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Their shared moments would be forever marked in his mind, appreciative that he could be the man he was with her, not Rome's Emperor.

After deciding that she was the only one he ever wanted to marry, they met up in a nice flower camp, as he planned to ask for her forever on the same day.

As they reached the designated place, Leo managed to get on one knee and pour his heart out to her. When he made the important question, as she was about to answer it, raiders invaded Egypt in a surprise attack, and before she could even say “yes”, the clan leader sliced through her heart, making her fall down and soon Leo followed, throat sliced open by another member.

As life drained from their bodies, they looked at each other as they bled, their hands touching as they said their last goodbyes.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

France, 1789

Leonidas fought against the imbalance that happened between the poorest and royals. The people were tired of poverty, brought by the dumb decisions of the French Monarchy.

As he disseminated his knowledge and beliefs, a royal carriage passed through, with the Princess inside it. She and Leonidas locked their eyes, and a shiver ran through their bodies.

The monarchs always had empty eyes, but hers was so alive. She gave him a gentle passing smile - even if he was criticizing her existence, making his heart beat fast.

Whenever royal gatherings happened, Leonidas and his followers were the first ones there protesting. The only one who ever dared to meet them and talk was her. It was bad - his heart throbbed whenever she spoke, her voice acting like a sweet melody to him.

“Another one of your hate campaigns, Leonidas?” she asked, smirking, fanning her painted face with a luxurious fan.

“Just fighting for my people and myself” he answered in a dignified voice, his eyes not breaking eye contact with her.

“Just fighting? If you keep following me I might as well think your objectives involve me, but not as in a revolutionary sense” she winked, hiding her face behind the pink fan.

“Don’t even waste your time thinking about false pretenses” he smirked back, pulling her fan down as he watched her pretty features, all worthy of a Princess.

It was satirical - the biggest fighter against her family was the one who managed to catch her heart. She was usually the quickest one to brush off suitors, but the rebellion leader caught her heart, and she didn't want him to let go.

When Leonidas was finally ready to act on his feelings, the fall of the Bastille happened, and soon did the fall of the monarchy. As a punishment, all were to be beheaded in a public gathering, their heads thrown around to celebrate France’s new beginning.

As she was guided to the guillotine, her eyes locked in his as the blade sliced her, a lonely tear running on her cheeks.

Leonidas, at that moment, felt hollow and empty, wondering what he did to deserve such feeling.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Italy, 1944

The war was at its peak, causing pain and destruction anywhere it passed by. Lionel fought bravely battle after battle, trying his hardest to stay safe at least till this he'll was over.

The highlight among all that destruction was the newest nurse, hair always in carefully made curls, and lips adorned in the most lovely shades as she tended every soldier with care.

Whenever he laid on the infirmary in her care, she always spent the longest on him, sharing heartfelt comments and small jokes, hoping to bring a smile to his serious face. Also, she chose not to mention that his heartbeat was always fast with her - they were in a war after all, they had more serious matters to pay attention to.

“Although it makes me happy to see you, it pains my heart that it needs to involve your pain” she said softly, holding his hand with one of her hands as the other one cleaned his wound.

“I’m tough, if I could I would bruise myself completely to be under your care for days” Lionel answered with a whimper as she hit a soft spot.

“Don’t you ever think about that! I need you in one piece, so we ought to live our lives together, in happiness, after all this tragedy ends” she said in a hopeful tone, pressing a kiss to his skin.

“Do you promise me a nice house and delicious dinners?” he asked playfully, an endearing smile not leaving his face

“Better. I promise you a home” she answered quietly, moving away to tend another soldier's wounds.

After a German attack in a secluded village, the soldiers could only try to pray for any survivors - the attack was brutal. The houses were on the ground, some toys and furniture disorganized all over the place, a gray feeling hanging around their heads.

When the troop was ready to leave, Lionel heard a quiet sound under some rubble, calling his colleagues to check it out. Working their way to the sound, an old lady was buried underneath it, breathing with difficulty.

Lionel didn't think twice and fought to work her out of there, but when she was at his hold, it was already too late. On her last breath, she pressed a palm to his face and whispered “son… It's already late for this life, but I banish the dark hold in your destiny. After so much suffering, your hearts deserve happiness” and with that, she was gone.

Lionel cried, so tired with all the tragedy and death around him, he didn't really understand what she meant, but laid her body in respect and moved forward.

Sadly, no one could predict a blitzkrieg, and one that hit exactly where they moved, and also so near their base - their safety. Lionel was unfortunately one of the victims, the bomb hitting near his body.

The last thing he could comprehend was his body being moved as the pretty nurse moved desperately to save him, crying as she held his body and he finally let go, thinking of their home.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

USA, 2023

Leon was sore after returning from another mission - one that could be considered a suicide one, but he wasn't that lucky to finally be able to rest peacefully.

He threw his body on his couch, but soon stood up and grunted as he reminded himself that he promised to go to an art exhibition with Claire and Chris, a piece of normalcy in a word reeking with monsters and nightmares.

How Claire managed to get Chris to come to a thing like that? Only God knows, but it would be a welcomed company amongst the bullshit that the art world revolves around.

As they reached the gallery, packed with artists, critics and obnoxious people who saw art in a dot of paint, Claire looked in glee at all the art pieces as Leon and her brother played a game of “blind or high?”, where they tried to guess if the artist was blind while making the piece or just purely high on whatever drug Umbrella passed along the streets to control people.

As they looked at the pieces, Claire stopped specifically at a painting of a couple sitting on a field, a picnic towel underneath them as the sky was purple, with the sun setting down and the moon reaching up. There were some children playing in the background, but much couldn’t be said, as they were mere shadows.

Leon looked at the painting puzzled, something in the art making his heart ache and long for, but he had no idea why. While Chris just whispered a “oh, definitely high” at him, he couldn't answer. The sight felt so familiar, but so painful, that he wanted to cry. Maybe fighting monsters and almost dying everyday was finally getting him.

A lady stopped in front of that painting, and looked at Leon with a witty smile and sparkly eyes “what do you see?”

As he looked at her, it was like the world stopped. She was just an unknown woman, but something felt so familiar in her. His heart was screaming for him to hug and kiss her, and Leon didn't know if he finally went insane or he was just deprived of affection (maybe both, but he didn't want to put a lot of thought into it).

Her hair matched her face perfectly, her makeup was minimal, contrasting with the red lipstick on her inviting lips. Her clothing molded perfectly into her pretty body, and he had to hold himself back from looking at her for too long.

With a deep sigh, he truthfully told her “I'm not good with art… but I think they look like a couple in love. A family, even. Maybe enjoying a picnic on a Sunday” he answered the stranger, holding back a blush.

Claire slapped him, embarrassed “you just described the painting you idiot, she meant more profoundly!”

The lady giggled, making Leon forget how to breathe for a second. She shakes her head and adds “no, I liked his observation. It looks like a dream Sunday, in my opinion” She winked at Leon

Still fighting a blush, he teased back “Okay then, Picasso, what do you see?”

The woman took a long breath and looked at the painting again “I see pain, but also hope. It feels like broken hearts being brought together. Kinda poetic.”

Leon could only look at her and smile, as she did the same. Pain and love. Leon could understand those feelings mixed together.

As they kept talking and walking through the gallery together, they failed to see the owner of the painting, an old woman who watched them with a smirk.

She turned to her assistant and said “Isn't destiny a funny thing? I guess I have to watch closely for inspiration for my next pieces, I've never gotten the full story before.”

The assistant looked at the artist in confusion, but didn't press the matter. The only thing she could think was: “Guess all the best artists are crazy people.”

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flowerandblood · 8 months

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The Impossible Choice (53)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, violence, character death ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

As soon as her husband entered their chamber she knew something was wrong. She could see it in his gaze, in his tense jaw, his hands clenched into fists. He wasn't looking at her and that was a bad sign. She rose from the chair she was sitting in and put her book down on the table next to her, walking slowly towards him.

"What's wrong?" She asked uncertainly and he didn't answer her, his lips tightened into a thin line, his gaze fixed somewhere in front of him in worried thought.

"Aemond."

"Aegon wants to marry your sister." He said coldly. She froze and burst into sudden and uncontrollable laughter that horrified both her and her husband. She shook her head in disbelief feeling like she was about to throw up, clasping her hand over her womb.

No. He could not be such a fool.

"That's impossible. Royce would never agree." She said with certainty, her husband snorted at her words.

"My grandfather didn't agree either. He is no longer Hand of the King." He said with emphasis on the last sentence, throwing her a menacing look.

She felt herself faint and grabbed onto the pillar of their bed. Aemond approached her quickly, frightened by her condition, holding her arm, helping her sit up.

"What are we going to do now? This is ridiculous. I need to talk to Floris." She mumbled, feeling the realisation of what Aegon wanted to do crush her more and more with each passing second.

"No. I have spoken to Helaena. I believe she will talk Aegon out of this idea." He said, forcing himself to be calm, and she looked at him in disbelief.

"Why must she always be the one to suffer for us? Why should she have to beg the man who caused her so much harm?" She asked in pain, her husband's lips tightening at her words.

"This is about the safety of her children and my nephews." He said coolly. "If she fails, I will have to deal with the matter."

She lifted her gaze to him slowly, feeling a shudder at the sound of his words, the way he said them. Cold, firm, calculating. His gaze was dark, blank.

Determined.

"What are you planning?" She asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer. She saw that he swallowed with difficulty and moved away, heading towards the lit fireplace.

"Don't think about it."

They spent the rest of the day together being as if in limbo. Aemond didn't come out for his scheduled training even though it was his daily routine. She thought he was making sure she didn't meet Floris.

Since she was staying at the Red Keep, Aegon had decided that she would take her old chamber, as she was actually living in her husband's room. She was furious, but there was nothing she could do.

It frightened her how desperate Aegon was, how easily he allowed himself to believe that having her sister as his wife would make him happy in any way. She didn't understand how he could be so blinded, why he clung so tightly to the vision that he could find love by force where there was none. She hid her face in her hands at the thought.

She squirmed in her husband's arms all night. She felt that he too was awake, merely lying with his eyes closed. She knew that his thoughts were once again engulfed in darkness and she feared what lurked in the recesses of his mind.

In the morning, Lyanna came to comb her hair as she did every day. A smile was painted on her face, which surprised her; since Floris' appearance, the whole of the Red Keep had lived in constant suspense. She glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Has something happened? Did you meet a nice boy?" She asked lightly, and the girl smiled wider, a blush on her face as she wove more curls of her dark hair together.

"No, my lady. But we all rejoice, for the Queen has spent the night in the King's chamber for the first time in months. They are now eating breakfast together." She said lightly, she and Aemond turned towards her in shock then cast communicative glances at each other.

She felt an unpleasant shudder at the thought.

Was he hurting her again?

She and Aemond had been tense all morning, waiting for any news, however, to their surprise, Helaena had not left his chamber. They were surprised when, after some time, a servant entered their quarters announcing that the king wished to see her.

"Me?" She asked uncertainly, feeling a tightness in her throat, Aemond clenched his jaw and turned his head away, furious.

"You don't have to do it. I'll go there." He said, moving towards the door, but she stood up and stopped him with a gesture of her hand.

"No. I can manage." She said and nodded to the servant that she was ready.

As she entered the chamber she saw Aegon and Helaena sitting behind the table, they were discussing something quietly leaning towards each other and abruptly interrupted when she stepped inside. Only after a moment did she see her brother sitting on the other side, looking at her with the same confused look.

She looked intensely at Helaena wanting to recognise any signs of suffering or harm that might be coming to her, but her face was calm and content, smiling sleepily. Only after a moment did she see that they were holding hands, their elbows resting on their armrests.

What was going on here?

Helaena stood up seeing her puzzled, concerned look and pointed with her hand to the seat in front of them.

"Sit down, please. Do not be afraid." She said softly and she nodded, trusting her completely.

She sat looking at them with her heart pounding, Helaena stood at the window, but her gaze was fixed on her brother. Aegon looked at his wife and then at her, fiddling with the ring on his finger.

"We need your advice." He began suddenly, and she blinked, feeling that she was holding her air with stress, and looked uncertainly at Royce.

We?

"My words said in the chamber of the Small Council were hasty and caused by my confusion, however, they were not announced officially. I know that my decisions have brought great harm to your family and your name, for which I wish to make amends. I want to give your sister in marriage."

She looked at him with a blank stare, wondering if she had understood correctly.

I want to give your sister in marriage.

Has he changed his mind?

She lifted her gaze to Helaena, her face calm and gentle.

What had she done to him?

Did she threaten him with something?

She swallowed loudly and shuddered when she heard her brother's voice.

"You shamed her and made her your whore. She is not without fault, but what self-respecting lord will want her?" He snorted impatiently and angrily, she knew he hated Aegon with all his heart and she felt he had every right to. Aegon pressed his lips together at his words and nodded, adopting an attitude of humility that shocked her.

"The kind who want to be indebted to the king. Most of them are not after their spouse's virginity, they are after influence. I can provide it. I plan to make my brother the Hand of the King, and his position on the council will become vacant. Your sister's future husband could occupy it." He said calmly, and she twisted in her seat, feeling the sweat on her neck, not believing what she was hearing.

I plan to make my brother the Hand of the King.

Silence fell, she and Royce looked at each other quickly, all tense.

It was a good offer. A very good one.

She could see that her older brother was thinking the same thing despite his rage.

There was no other option.

Royce lowered his gaze and slowly nodded.

"Yes. That will be the best solution to this unfortunate situation." He said through clenched teeth, struggling to force himself to be calm. Aegon nodded, pretending not to see it, and lifted his gaze to one of his servants.

"Bring Lady Floris."

Lady Baratheon looked curiously at her sister's face as she entered the King's chamber, evidently thinking that he wished to spend time with her in private again, and saw the whole assembly.

She saw her pupils narrowed in fear and uncertainty, saw her turn pale and stop suddenly, swallowing loudly. She felt an immense amount of satisfaction and power at this sight, knowing what was about to happen.

Aegon grunted quietly, looking down at his fingers intertwined on the table in front of him.

"My lady, I wish to apologise to you in the presence of the head of your House and your sister for the wrongs I have done you." He began, Floris looked at him in disbelief, her breathing quickened in horror. "I promised you that I would erase your disgrace by taking you as my wife, but I cannot do so. Me and my wife have jointly concluded that I must now unite our subjects, not divide them, and this event would surely turn many against us."

He said avoiding her gaze, Floris was breathless all over, the realisation of what was about to happen to her slowly beginning to enter her mind.

Lady Baratheon felt her face express calm contentment.

"Me and your brother have decided to marry you off to a lord equal to you in status, one to whom marriage will not hurt your honour." He said calmly, and Floris swallowed loudly, hard.

"Who will want me now that the whole kingdom knows you have taken me to your bed?" She asked in a trembling voice, apparently wanting to save herself by arousing remorse in him. Aegon twisted restlessly in his chair.

"Anyone I make a member of the Small Council in return. That is already decided. I will leave the choice to your brother and with him consult on the matter. That is all." He said and nodded at her. Floris laughed at his words, but Lady Baratheon could feel the desperation in her voice.

"That is all? You promised me. You told me you loved me." She mumbled, and Aegon looked at her impassively.

"I only love four women. My mother, my sister, my daughter and my brother's wife. Unfortunately, you are not like the last one enough, although I had hoped otherwise."

Floris looked at her with wide-open eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching in a smile of satisfaction.

Did she really think that he had chosen her because he liked her?

That something about her captured him?

She watched with amusement as her sister struggled to understand what had actually happened, that she was merely a substitute for his fantasy of her, her sister, nothing more.

"Nevertheless, my queen's opinion is most important to me." He said and looked at Helaena in a way from which she swallowed silently, unsure if she was really seeing it.

He looked content and calm, something had changed between them.

Something had happened.

She thought Helaena had not threatened him with anything at all.

Could it be that they had somehow communicated?

Her heart struck harder at that thought with a kind of hope.

Floris walked out of his chamber like a storm, but no one stopped her. Aegon grunted, glancing at Royce uncertainly.

"Lord Greyjoy demands that you take his granddaughter as your wife in the Great Sept in King's Landing." He said uncertainly, fiddling with his fingers, clearly afraid to test her brother's patience. Royce swallowed quietly at his words.

"I know, she told me that herself. Since I'm here, so be it." He said indifferently, looking to the side. Her lips tightened at the thought of them talking, and she didn't even have a moment to ask him what he thought of her. Aegon nodded.

"So it's all settled."

She and Royce left the king's chamber together, shocked and uncertain, walking through the cloisters together, analysing what had happened. She felt immense relief, as if a stone had fallen from her heart. She was snapped out of her reverie by her brother's low voice.

"She is intelligent. Reena. That's her name." He said calmly, and she looked at him quickly feeling her heart pounding.

Reena.

"It's a very nice name." She said quietly, playing with her hands, involuntarily stroking her slightly rounded pregnant abdomen. "What do you think of her?"

She asked, and Royce shrugged his shoulders.

"She knows what she wants, she wants to fulfil her grandfather's will and she has come to terms with what is to happen, albeit with difficulty. She said she's relieved now that she sees I'm not an empty, rich lord caring only about fine robes and rings. I think I'm relieved too." He confessed, tightening his lips. She could see that he was tense, that he himself no longer knew what he thought of the marriage.

"I don't know how I should behave on our wedding night. What do you think?" He asked, and she swallowed loudly, the noise of the conversations of servants and ladies of the court all around them.

"Ask her what she wants." He said calmly, her brother snorting at her words.

"What if she tells me not to touch her? Without that, our marriage won't be fully valid." He said visibly torn internally, his voice trembling at his last words. She swallowed quietly.

"It would be better for you to take her later than by force." She said dryly. Royce looked at her out of the corner of his eye, anxious, tense.

"…did Aemond take you by force?" He asked uncertainly, she noticed that he hadn't used his title, his disrespect towards him after still feeling pain in his heart at the thought that their father had died for him. She looked at him with tired eyes.

"No. But we both later regretted that our first time was not different. However, we made amends after he took me as his wife a second time, in the tradition of Old Valryia." She said, a smile appearing on her face at the thought. Royce looked at her uncertainly and grunted.

"He must be really attached to you, if he wanted to marry you a second time." He said thoughtfully. She laughed under her breath and stroked his arm.

"We have both matured into our roles." She said softly, feeling a warmth in her lower abdomen at the thought. She suggested he eat supper with them, but he said he needed to rest.

She wondered if he would go to see Reena.

When she entered their chamber her husband stood up immediately, tense, approaching her quickly. She saw how pale he was, his hands clenched into fists.

"And?" He asked, clearly thinking he didn't have time to form full sentences. She sighed loudly at his words.

"I don't know what Helaena did to him, but he's going to marry Floris off to some lord in exchange for your seat on the Small Council, and make you Hand of the King." She said calmly, herself not believing what was coming out of her mouth. Aemond blinked as if he didn't understand what she said and he shook his head, laughing with forced amusement.

"What?"

"He invited me and Royce. Helaena was at the conversation. He told us his plan, and then he summoned Floris and announced his will to her. It's over." She said touching his cheek. He tightened his eyelid and laid his forehead on her shoulder, his body slowly beginning to relax.

"If Helaena hadn't… if it hadn't worked out and he hadn't changed his mind…"

"… I know." She said, not wanting him to finish, her hand running through his hair.

Her husband needed to relax and quickly found comfort in her arms, sitting up together with her and letting himself ride her, his face just snuggled between her breasts, both of them panting loudly. He whispered her name responding with deep, sure thrusts to her every move, his fingers clenched on her sweaty back.

"I'm right here, my love." She whispered kissing the top of his head, stroking his hair with her hands, lifting and falling against him with a sticky, loud click of her juices, his length pushing her walls apart with each of his thrusts, the heat intensifying in her lower abdomen.

"It's all right now. It's okay, my love, cum inside me." She whispered feeling him hold back for her, his manhood pulsing greedily. He came with a loud, helpless moan at her words, panting heavily, hugging her painfully tight, trying to melt into one with her, seeking refuge in her arms.

She kissed his hair and stroked his head until he calmed down, and then she came having him still deep inside her from the lazy movements of his thumb around her clit.

Even though everything had resolved in her favour, she wriggled in his arms, unable to fall asleep. Unintentionally, she kept thinking about Floris, about what had happened. She thought she wanted to confront her, to tell her everything she thought of her. She thought she deserved it.

She gently freed herself from the embrace of her husband sleeping a strong, deep sleep and moved silently barefoot towards the door. She ran across the cold stone floor to the chamber next to them and was surprised to find that the door to her quarters was ajar.

She felt a squeeze at the thought that Aegon was still visiting her.

That he had not changed at all.

She quietly walked closer and looked inside. There was no candle burning in the room and it was completely dark, nor did she hear any sound. She entered slowly, approaching her bed unhurriedly seeing that she was alone. She wanted to touch her arm to wake her, but when she noticed her body in the moonlight, she froze.

Her eyes were wide open, her mouth parted.

Her throat slit.

She felt herself begin to tremble all over, only now realising that the black spots around her body were not shadows but blood. Her breath caught in her throat and she couldn't move for a moment frightened, she jumped when she heard a loud, shrill, almost inhuman scream in the distance.

She ran out immediately thinking whoever had done this to her sister was still there and ran ahead following the cries, heedless of the guards who rushed up as she did. The screams led her to Helaena's chamber, who was kneeling in the dark rocking back and forth, something small that looked like a doll lying in front of her.

And then she realised.

It was her son.

Her daughter was trembling all over, hugging her mother, who was looking ahead with absent eyes.

"…Helaena…" She stammered, trembling, looking around fearfully to see if whoever had done that was anywhere in the chamber.

"…we have to get out of here, please." She said walking towards her, grabbing her arm but she didn't move, her daughter was crying loudly.

"I came to check on the children and saw him. He said: I came to take your beloved stag and beloved dragon. That this was the price the queen had set. He cut his throat. He didn't even make a sound." She whispered looking at the white-haired boy lying in front of her, stroking his hair, her whole hands dirty with blood.

She tried to stop the bleeding.

Aemond and Aegon came running over a moment later hearing the commotion. Aemond grabbed her in his arms asking her what had happened, what she was doing here. Aegon stepped down beside Helaena and dropped to his knees. For a moment he just stared at what had happened with his mouth wide open.

He whined loudly like an animal, sobbing, pressing his face into his son's chemise.

Aemond when he noticed this froze, his hands clenched on her body so tightly that it caused her pain, but she thought nothing of it.

I came to take your beloved stag and beloved dragon.

The assassin acting on Rhaenyra's behalf was mistaken.

He thought she was asleep in her chamber.

He mistook her for Floris.

_____

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jacevelaryonswife · 1 year

Text

Kneel to the Empire or die with the Republic

A woman cannot be left alone to her own fate. After the fall of what you used to know, your only option was to kneel to him.

pairing: Young!Gaius Julius (Augustus Imperator) x Fem!reader

warnings and a note: angst, grief. This story is based on Domina (tv show), I don't have so much knowledge about the historical facts that involve Augustus, so, for those who have more baggage I'm sorry if something sounds wrong from what happened, please be kind, or just don’t read. English is not my first language. 3,8k

In addition to grief, other factors tightened your chest after your father's death. A good man, a faithful supporter of the Roman Republic and power of the Senate, a patrician descended from an important aristocratic lineage, and the most aggravating: one of those responsible for orchestrating the assassination of Gaius Iulius Caesar.

When the military forces of Gaius Julius, born Gaius Octavius, great-nephew of Julius Caesar, began to act in Rome, you knew you had few certainties and much to fear. Perhaps you were executed with your family, dying in an honorable way and with your head held high against a dictator (in the words of your older brother), or just having your traitorous blood eliminated by the defended cause of the heir of the most important man in Rome. They said he was different, a restorer of the Republic, a supporter of power in the hands of the people and the Senate, a middle ground between Caesar and the most avid Republicans. In those days, nothing was clearer to you than your death, however, Gaius Julius' stroke of mercy in sparing women and children from those considered enemies was at the same time a breath of relief and a punch in the lung.

Relief to the fact that you would have a chance to live, since the fear occurred when your brothers did not have the same luck when they were sentenced to death.

"What are we going to do?" You asked scared.

The two looked at each other for a considerable time, with Nero lowering his head before answering: "you will stay here and we are going to fight.”

“What? I can't stay here! There must be somewhere where his men don't find us."

"And how would you live? Running away forever? It's not the fate our father wanted for you." Claudius said.

"That's exactly what he would do instead of kneeling to a dictator, what do you expect me to do?"

“We are trying to protect you! There is no gentle future beyond these walls and I’m sure that Julius' men will still be less kind if they capture you," Nero said, exalting himself before holding your hands: "we cannot risk your life beyond ours, our father is not here, our allies are almost all dead, there is no hope for the three of us, but there may be for you."

The fall of tears marked your face until they flowed into the union of your hands. “I don't want to be alone,” you whined.

"You won’t”

It wasn't known at the time, but that was the last time you were with your brothers. The soldiers of Gaius Julius broke into your house the same night, looking closely for any fresh trail of male presence. The soldiers responsible for your safety were murdered without any chance of defense, with the exception of those who submitted quickly, fearful for their lives. You didn't judge them, how could you, after all?

When a man pressed you incisively on the whereabouts of your blood, shaking your shoulders rudely, an authoritarian voice interrupted him with a short message:

"Not her."

With wide eyes and irregular breathing, you were released immediately. The violence on the inside was mirrored on the outside, being the clearest reminder of those destined to die with the Republic. Your inert body remained in the sights of the man who guaranteed your release, the same facing you a few seconds after his order.

“My men will do your protection tonight,” he said.

The confusion in your frightened face was clear on the tip of your tongue when you asked a simple question:

"Why?" That didn't happen to other women.

"You'll know at the right time."

That's all the man said.

You remained static for long minutes after the departure of those who vandalized your home, with your father's servants — ordered by them — to remove the corpses from the house and sanitize the rooms to their original. Impossible. Doesn’t matter if the blood is removed, the death will be marked forever in each piece of furniture and corridor. One of the soldiers responsible for "your protection" approached with fear and touched your arm with delicacy, hitherto unknown to you, to get you out of the trance.

“We will assume from here, go back to rest,” he said.

"What's going to happen?" Your question was weak, almost like a meow.

"The house will be cleaned and the perimeter protected."

"From who? Why do you want to protect me?"

He remained silent for a few minutes before answering: "I'm not allowed to say."

Permission? What was going on? What was being planned for you? And by whom? Gaius Julius himself or one of his trusted men? Would you be held hostage? Would you marry any of them? Would it be sold as a slave or prostitute?

The rest of the night was spent in torment, with you pushing the internal lock of your door hard and putting on a clot to try to hide some jewels and coins with you in case you needed it and managed to escape. Sleeping was not an option, but a part of you wished that sleep would erase the horrors experienced and the departure of his brothers, so nervousness and fear partially succumbed to sleep. You allowed yourself to stay in the room a little longer that morning, ashamed of facing your servants and guards (no longer yours, but of the men of Gaius), only to receive a knock on the door of the same man you spoke to for the last time.

“I would like to sleep a little more,” you said through the door, afraid enough to open it.

His breathing was perfectly audible, followed by a moment of silence. "You will have some time, but you will need to leave soon to feed yourself and receive the lady Octavia's visit."

Octavia? Octavia Minor? Brother of Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus? What the fuck was going on?

If there was any pretension of tiredness in you it was in a distant past, your mind had just been set on fire with what was going to happen, with what that woman might want with you. She was no stranger, visually speaking, since the glimpse of her red hair and elegant posture were seen by you at the wedding of Livia Drusila and Tiberius Claudius Nero. She, Scribonia, Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa and him, the reason for everything that is happening, with his hair and eyes dark as the night, with cheap charm and indecent actions.

You didn’t forget how you caught him having inadequate relations with Cicero's wife during the celebration, how he didn’t seem intimidated or embarrassed by his wide eyes, or how he went to you discreetly after your escape, so calm and carefree that it seemed unreal.

It's too unreal to have him by your side. Too unreal that he approached the daughter of one of the men responsible for the death of his great-uncle.

“I'm sorry you saw that, I should have chosen a place with a door,” he said when he settled comfortably standing next to him.

Your breath froze when you heard such a lack of respect, was he making fun of you?

"Don't worry, the time will come when you will do that for your husband," he provoked again, not receiving silence in response.

"Have you finished yet?" Your question was irritated, although low, without looking him in the eye.

"Yes, I did."

You didn't notice his pertinent choice of words, keeping yourself in the same place while waiting for him to leave.

“A beautiful thing like you deserve a better husband than Livia's,”

And so, he left your side.

Everything that preceded your departure from the room to the bath and to the food resulted in a constant tension in every room of your house. You felt eyes accompanied by you at all times, both from the soldiers of Gaius and from your father's slaves. It seemed that another series of murders would happen and was only prevented, for the time being, by the visit of the dictator's sister, which happened in the early afternoon.

A comforting smile directed to you was present before and after the hug given. "I'm sorry for what happened yesterday, the war usually gets the best of us."

That couldn't be said to her, you thought.

“Thank you.”

One of the guards guided the way to his father's conversation room, where there was some fruit and wine waiting. Quick flashes of happy memories made you walk slower before sitting next to her, it seemed like an eternity from full happiness, and maybe you would never fully recover it.

“Your house is quite beautiful,” Octavia began, looking around, “I always imagined it was, but it's different when being inside.”

“Has had better days,” you said apathetic, looking down.

Holding your hands, she held your chin to face her. “Again, I'm sorry for what happened. It has been a difficult period for all of us, on both sides, and I imagine that being alone in a world of men is more aggravating. That's why I'm here." Your silence made her continue, although she did not mention of stopping. "I believe you follow your father's ideas, perhaps not because you understand what a republic means, but because you accept what your blood believed-"

"I know what the republic means, just as I know what your brother is doing, but I don't think he came here to ask for my opinion," you interrupted her.

“Not an opinion, but a decision,” she rectified.

“And what decision is that?"

She looked down, displaying a strange smile as she took a deep breath. Her response took a while, as Octavia calmly took a bunch of grape in her hands and picked up a berry before resuming the subject.

"Your father's decision to delay choosing a suitor for you was quite risky for your reputation, rumors could have been made about your purity instead. I like to think he was kind, to the same extent as a fool. But maybe, all this time serves a greater purpose,” she took another break, waiting for you to guess, but everything seemed too absurd to unravel.

"What purpose?"

"A woman cannot be alone in the world, especially one with your birth. When the news that your brothers are gone is spread, men of all regions and ages have prowled your carcass and will force a marriage to get your dowry. Maybe some of your uncles or cousins, or any of them. I come here today to offer a better proposal than any of them: Gaius."

The self-control over your expressions was not well executed, since your eyes frowned and your mouth opened. No, it couldn't be. It was a fucking joke. How... how dare she?

"What?" You asked out loud. “Gaius? Your brother Gaius?"

"Yes, he in person." Octavia answered.

“Why? Why do you want me to marry him? Why me?"

“Although many claim that Gaius intends to end the Senate and Republic, this has already proved to be a fallacy. In his trajectory, he showed that he did not conquer power alone. In fact, the Senate is on its way to deliver this power to him, because it recognizes his virtues. He is a merciful man, who wishes to restore the Republics to their glory days.”

“Merciful?” You asked. “Where is the pity in sentencing my brothers to death? How nice would it be to marry the heir of the man my father helped kill? How good would it be to marry the man who is the reason why all this is happening?” Your voice came out exalted again.

Octavia, in turn, restricted herself to looking down. “All the men who remain in Rome will be supporters of Gaius, maybe yes, some dissatisfied rebel can remain, but in the end, their opinion will be worth nothing, so any husband they arrange for you will be loyal to my brother, it’s no less worse.”

“Gaius decreed the death of my brothers, that’s bad enough,” you answered.

“But what will be worse for you: to be unhappy with a bad stranger or to be the wife of a young sovereign leader? My brother was not very favorable to your family, but he would not do the atrocities that could happen to you being alone and vulnerable at this time.”

No answer was formulated by you, maybe a punch in the stomach would be preferable when facing your reality.

“Gaius himself suggested this idea,” she added.

Before or after declaring your brothers as enemies? How could he think of something like that? The memory of your family and your dignity was insulting! You would become what you wouldn’t like to say and that your father would vehemently deny.

“It’s a lot to assimilate, I know, so you have until the rest of the day to think about, tomorrow one of the soldiers will take your answer in writing,” Octavia said.

“No,” you said. “I’ll come to you. Papers can be tampered with, not my word. But I ask you to order your brother’s men not to touch any woman in this house during my absence.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

It was a deal. A marriage proposal by Gaius Julius Caesar. Not a request, an agreement, that’s what it was, an arrangement to improve his image. That was your function, to improve the lives of men, and unfortunately, even if you don’t choose it, there is no way to get out of this situation unscathed, because Octavia didn’t lie when she referred to the fate that awaited you. But that was worse, he was to blame for the chaos and violence that Rome witnessed, the reason why your home was destroyed. You were truly scared between choosing such options. They were all bad in many ways, but Gaius’s was disrespectful and humiliating. And yet you were still considering it. Was surviving so important?

Or was it that you were too cowardly to face your destiny. Between running away and getting married, you preferred death, but you were too cowardly to cut your throat. Maybe one of Gaius’ men could do this after you rejected the proposal, or Octavia herself could meet someone who messed with poisons. By the Gods, you were desperate.

“I don’t know what to do,” you told a personal servant while bathing.

You still didn’t know what to do when you went to sleep, when you woke up the next day, when you ate nothing more than a few grape berries, when you were taken to where Octavia was and when you faced her. You believed that years could pass and you would not yet have a concrete answer to that situation, but even so, the known evil (Gaius) seemed less worse than what could happen if you rejected it.

Even though it is a simple word, it has never been so difficult to make a statement before.

“Yes.”

You accepted him as yours.

Gaius’ sister’s smile was warm, wrapping your body in a hug while saying that from now on you would be sisters. Your dresses and goods would be sent to your new home, and a few maids could be taken too — at your insistence.

“We have our trusted servants, no need to worry,” Octavia said.

And then it became clear that the evaluation of his company was not only for capacity, but for loyalty and security.

“Gaius will be back soon, I’m sure he will be pleased with your presence here,” she said next. “You couldn’t have chosen better.”

Choices. No, you didn’t want to keep torturing yourself by thinking about the other options.

However, a curious fact was noticed by you in the days that followed in Gaius’ house, under the company of Octavia and other ladies: they would die to be in your position. Or rather, they would kill to be the wife of the next leader of Rome. It was one of the certainties you came to believe, Gaius Julius would not lose the war and those women would do anything to be in youe place. The feeling of danger that filled you on the other days was terrifying, restless and too tense to remain surrounded by other people. Turning to Octavia about the possibility of being poisoned, she eased your fears by saying that everything that arrived on your plate was tasted by others noticed. It wasn’t so comforting when you realized that people could die for you. No, that was insanity. Everything related to what you were living was insanity.

Long days and long nights were bathed in fear in your new home, but nothing compared when the news of his return echoed through the walls. Next to your faithful friends, men, family and servants, there you were, in the center, next to your new sister. The smile that stamped his front was raised when he saw your serious and nervous figure waiting for him. The son of a bitch looked like he had won the biggest of the prizes. And in fact, he did it, after all, his image was built for that.

For the reconstruction of the Republic.

No word of his speech was heard by you, just waiting for such torment to end. But the celebrations were just beginning. At first, he did not go directly to meet you, but in the middle of the night, when you were away for too long in a distant room, he approached surreptitiously with gentle steps.

“Even though it was a generous proposal, a large part of me thought you would refuse it,” he said, calm with a breeze.

A sigh was your first reaction.

“A large part of me thought about refusing.”

He stood next to you, or in front of you (depending on the perspective) in the hallway.

“And what made you change your mind?”

“I don’t know,” you replied.

“Don’t you know?”

“No, I don’t know.”

“So why are you here?”

“I was afraid of being alone, not that I’m not at the moment. Not that the other option was less worse, in fact, both were bad enough.”

“And what was the other option?” He asked with a mixture of humor, surprise and curiosity with his sincere answer.

“Your sister can answer that.”

He didn’t hold his smile this time, even if weak and nasal. After that, he was silent for a while, posture changing up before speaking even lower:

“I’m sorry for your brothers.” Perhaps it would have been better to have been silent since your only reaction was to walk in the same direction that he came, leaving him behind, or trying. “Wait, wait! I’m sorry, it was something stupid to say.” He held your arm firmly, but without being rude, as he got even closer.

“Yes, it was,” you agreed and showed the frown you fought so hard to disguise.

“There was nothing to do about them,” he confessed.

“No? Did your supporters say that or was it your idea to declare them as enemies?” You asked (accused) him.

“Would they accept to be loyal to me?”

Of course not.

“I thought you was doing this for the people and the Senate, to restore the Republic,”

“And I am, but would they accept this if it was done by me?”

You smiled with mockery, looking the other way and leaving him unanswered.

“I know you have enough reasons not to trust me, or hate me, but I don’t intend to fail as a husband, and I don’t intend to disrespect you,” he said, trying to soften.

“Just like you disrespected Cicero?” You remembered the incident at Livia’s wedding.

It was his turn to sigh, releasing your arm to hold your hand.

“Cívero married her because her family is rich. That’s why everyone gets married: money, power and family. That the only thing that’s matter.”

“That’s why we’re getting married. Money, power and family,” you said bitterly.

“Yes, it’s. But I know it wasn’t an easy decision fot you to make.”

If your conscience wasn’t trying to push him away, you could have noticed a certain compassion in his beautiful eyes.

“No, you don’t know. You don’t.” That was too much, no, it was an excess of what you could handle. “You have no idea what it’s been like to live with this burden. The people I loved are dead and I feel that at any moment I will be next, and I will still marry you. No, you don’t know how I feel. My father would bitterly deny me if I were alive, my brothers too, because I’m going to marry you, because I’m a fucking traitor!” Tears collapsed violently from your eyes. “Because I have nothing else, there’s nothing left.”

Oh no. He advanced on you with a tight hug, holding your head against his chest. “It’s ok, it’s ok, you’ll be fine, I promise, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for all this. I promise I won’t betray you, I promise, I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know how many tears you had saved for that moment, for him. Because of him. You couldn’t imagine leaning over to seek comfort in him, squeezing him so hard to prevent him from running away. But he wouldn’t go anywhere, no, he wouldn’t. He wrapped you in a cocoon while holding the back of your head. The inconvenient thought that incriminated him for your situation was unpleasant to deal with, for him, and unconsciously, for you, a small relief was present in the back of your mind because no one was around.

“I promise you, nothing less than respect. I can’t get back what was lost, but I can guarantee new things,” he said when you calmed down.

“I don’t need jewelry, Gaius, or dresses, or maids. I already have that, I’ve always had it,” you countered it.

“I’m not talking about material goods. Some things need interference to be solved, others can be remedied by time, or mitigated. I don’t intend to put pressure or do little of you, I know it wouldn’t work, and that’s not how I want to solve things between us. I hope one day you can forgive me, I’ll be waiting for that.”

Taking a risk by kissing your forehead with affection was dangerous, but touching your lips was off limits. He has waited so long for you, since he saw your wide eyes and beautiful face at Livia Drusilla’s wedding. A beautiful girl from an important family, the same family involved in the size of her great-uncle, yet a beautiful girl to have by his side. He knows it was cruel to have made such a proposal, but it would be even more cruel to leave you for your luck. He could not allow this, not when your fragility was exposed to him in a more frighteningly palpable way, not when even in suffering you confronted him. Call him a fool or hopeful, but he believed that eventually, taking time or not, you would be totally his.

The confusion was evident in your eyes when he felt for the first time the slight landing of soft and gentle lips against your own. His lips... kissing you. Your eyes closed in the final seconds, before a whispered statement was sworn to you in a serious and masculine tone:

“Everything will be fine.”

————————

I didn’t like this as much as I imagined.

general taglist: @chompchompluke

tag for this fic: @lovelykhaleesiii @arcielee

#gaius julius x reader #young!gaius julius x reader #domina hbo #tom glynn carney #gaius octavius x reader #gaius julius caesar #emperor augustus #fanfiction #tom glynn

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foranpo · 7 months

Text

ੈ˚☆ when they love you the most.

fandom: genshin impact.

characters: childe, thoma, kaveh.

reader: gn!

genre: headcanons.

content: fluff.

word count: ~250 each // 700 total

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading ♡ ──────

˚ʚ childe.

in the waves of moonlight, feeling your body next to his, after an exhausting day, not knowing how to react to the world —Childe loved you the most when everything that existed ceased to be and nothing but luminous darkness covered the entire vast horizon.

alone with you, comforted in small walls, wrapped in soft sheets, Childe loved you more when he stopped pretending. without any weight of the world on his shoulders, completely devoid of imaginary people that formed his being, Childe loved you when he was himself and only him.

truly Childe.

with the delicacy trapped in his touch and the neediness clinging to his gaze, Childe loved you with the grace of the end of the day, the tiredness of being so many without any rest holding his slurred, but always felt and vibrant, words.

an i love you. an i missed you. a just five more minutes.

small pleas escaped Childe's lips like prayers from the most devout of believers, all the anguish and uncertainty that commanded his body to dissipate when at home, comforted in small walls, wrapped in soft sheets, clinging to you.

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ thoma.

in the insecurities of the future and the uncertainties of the present, bathed in the clarity of the sun and declaimed by the beauty of the flowers —Thoma loved you the most when everyone got tired of you and threw you to the ground, over and over again, without any warning.

entire afternoons seemed short when you felt Thoma's embrace. small poems were quoted between murmurs, songs from the most famous poets finding a melody between Thoma's soft lips.

whenever and every time the whole world fell on you, whenever and every time the whole world decided to test your strength, Thoma was there for you, reminding you why he didn't let go, etching it into your memory with colors of love and affection that him, and always him, would be a word away from you.

tranquility and peace. among all the chaos, Thoma existed.

it didn't exist just for you, but for your relationship; patience and understanding fled from Thoma's fingertips, outlining drawings of strength and encouragement, writing memories of love on your soft skin.

always calm, always smiling, Thoma loved you.

he just loved you. there was no other way to say it, as there was no other way to feel it: pure passion burned Thoma's heart, using the lava that flowed inside him to build permanent fortifications of love and tenderness in your hands every time he caressed you between poems of tomorrow and sonnets of your conquests;

extreme devotion squeezed Thoma's heart, letting the line that hung from him escape through his lips in all the light, graceful, affectionate kisses that he gave you in all the memories of who you are and who you once were.

when everyone gave up on you, Thoma was by your side. always and forever with you.

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ kaveh.

between dusty pages and lit candles, sweet with the certainty of a future —Kaveh loved you the most when a new shine appeared in your eyes.

your curiosity lit up your face every time happiness clench to your heart, leading you to question what else you could love, what else you could do.

and Kaveh clung to all your smiles.

admiring you from afar, always fearing to share your happiness, totally nervous about destroying your passion, Kaveh allowed your entire existence to strongly paint his heart with warmer, more passionate tones.

all because you discovered a new passion, a new goal.

how beautiful it was to see you grow, become the wonderful person who inspires each of Kaveh's creations; between smiles and looks, words and memories, your entire essence rained down stardust that stuck to Kaveh's notebooks, forcing him to draw, to create, for you.

for your courage to start something new when no one expected anything from you; for your resilience in continuing when the world knocked you down —Kaveh admired you, but, above all, he loved you. yesterday and today. in a tomorrow awaited by you, in a future carved by both of you, Kaveh loved you, for all eternity.

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated ♡ ─────

#;genshin impact constellation;#childe x reader #childe headcanons #thoma x reader #thoma headcanons #kaveh x reader #kaveh headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons

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hyunjinners · 8 months

Text

.ᨘ۫.ꪶ 🎀 ۪→ 𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗘 - Lee Eun-hyuk x reader

( 𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 ) Sometimes bringing up happy memories can lift moods.

( 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 ) Lee Eun-hyuk x Fem¡reader

( 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘 ) Angst (a little), cute ending.

( 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ) slight trigger, racial differences, Eun-hyuk being a complete cutie ^°^

( 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 ) 1233 (approximately)

⊹₊˚ʚ❛Masterlist❜ɞ

( 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘 )

─┈ ✦️️ʾ One more chapter for you! Remembering that English is not my first language, so I apologize if it is in old-fashioned writing or any spelling errors.

Bored, Eun-hyuk walks through the corridors of the green building, looking at how the residents are getting along with each other. He carries an imperceptible smile on his face from the little memory of his sister proposing between the lines to Hyun-su.

Crossing the hall, his eyes fall directly on her figure sitting absently. Beautiful. He couldn't help thinking. He watches as he crosses his arms, attentive to her details. The pencil in her hand, tracing perfect lines on the notebook in her lap, your foot tapping frantically to the music playing in your headphones and even the way you would unnoticedly tuck the lock of hair that fell across your face behind your ear.

For anyone this would be a cute or ordinary scene. But Eun-hyuk knew you. He loved you. Which of course guaranteed the fact that he knew you very well, and he knew something was wrong. You were nervous, anxious - worried to say the least. You always do that when you're worried, nervous or even scared. Art always called his attention and, from Eun-hyuk's point of view, he found an interesting way of escape. But still his worries did not diminish.

He really noticed how restless and distant you were for a while during the days. He is really distant because of his role as leader of the group, so it's common for 𝗵𝗶𝗺 not to see you. But strangely 𝘆𝗼𝘂 didn't go see him, which sincerely worried him, but he just thought you were thinking that you didn't want to bother him - which wasn't very unusual for you to think, as you always gave him space when needed.

He walks slowly and silently towards you. He watches intently as his fingers scratch the edge of the notebook nervously. Her head hangs down as she hums softly, wanting to concentrate on the music - anything but her problems.

Sitting down next to him, Eun-hyuk gently removes the headphones from his ears, which results in a slight fright on his part by the sudden act. You sigh as soon as you realize who it was and put on your face the widest smile you could manage - which wasn't particularly much.

"Oppa! How are you?" Through her eyes he could confirm with all certainty that something was not right. In response he just smiled, holding your hand, making you let go of the pencil, thus resting it on the notebook.

"how are you? I haven't heard from you lately, so I was worried."

"I'm fine, don't worry." lie. This was clearly a lie. You could even lie very well, but not when it comes to Eun-hyuk. His heart ached when he realized you weren't going to tell him anything, maybe to keep him from worrying.

"something happened, didn't it? You are restless. Besides listening to music, it's something you do when you're really nervous or sad. You can count, y/n. It's okay." You watch him with lost eyes, wondering if you should speak or not. Leaning back against the wall, you sigh as you stare at the ceiling above.

"it's something silly, Eun-hyuk."

"but it's still something. Tell me."

"It's just… today would be my test. The most important of the semester. The proof that I spent weeks studying because I wanted something for my future but, with all this monster business, I wonder if it even really has a future." you let out a sad laugh. You didn't want to tell because it seemed silly, but only you know what happened. a foreigner, who left her family behind to be able to make her proud and become the most studied in the family, being able to bring the life she wanted so much. Only you knew how hard you and your parents worked for you to be here today.

"I know it sounds silly but…I've been waiting for this since I was 14. I struggled, studied and even worked for it. Which in the end became nothing." a silent tear rolls down her cheek. "sorry…it's stupid, I know."

"No…it's not stupid." he guides you to sit between his legs, thus leaning on his chest. He cuddles in her arms while resting his chin on her head, not before leaving a seal in place. "I know it's important to you and I understand more than anyone what it's like to be forced to drop out of school for a bigger reason."

"but the worst of it is that I won't be able to keep our promise."

The promisse. He remembers clearly.

You were in your small apartment for an afternoon of study together. Eun-hyuk was sitting in her swivel chair while you were sitting on her bed, leaning against the wall. You let out a sigh, dropping the book onto the bed with a low grunt.

"Oppa! Why is studying so tiring?" he turns his chair towards her, looking into her eyes with a small smile. He adjusts his glasses as he gets up to sit beside her. You intertwine your hands, looking into his face in awe.

"want to know something? When all this studying, tests and simulations are over, I'm going to marry you." You said suddenly, making Eun-hyuk surprised.

"Marry?" he asks, a little desperate due to the impact of the fright.

"Of course you do, you silly! Or would you rather I marry some college freshman?"

"What? No no! Of course not… I agree to marry you."

"then…" you intertwine your pinkies, joining your thumbs together like a seal. "…it's a promise."

He loves that memory, but it grew sadder and sadder when he stopped to think about their predicament, how their futures were compromised. You bite your lower lip remembering every effort you made to finish college. It was all down the drain.

"Do not think like that. The world could go up in flames, but that's no reason to part with you. I love you. Of course it's hard but, at least for me, if we're together it's just something we'll get through. Together. No matter what happens."

You are silent, absorbing his words. You couldn't disagree, he was definitely your everything, and you couldn't let the situation stop you from thinking about a better future. He also knew that maybe things would never really get better, but he loves you. Very. And I wanted to get through it all with him.

"…Thank you, Eun-hyuk. I don't know how I would be without you. I love you so much and I want more than ever to be with you until the end."

"I love you too, so I'm going to make it happen. I will keep the promise, my love. Don't worry."

꒷꒦ ⊹ ๑ ❛original by: @hyunjinners ¡ Like × reblog❜ =͟͟͞♡ ‧ ˚ ₊

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faytelumos · 1 year

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Dude the way I'm eating your tags like they're my last meal on death's row!! I'll do the same here. Can you IMAGINE the standard Thomas sat when he became a father.

This wild, rowdy, firecracker of a man Gotham grew from golden soil and made him dirty, becoming a dad? Oh man.

Especially in the black and white era, where the most proficient job you could have in Gotham was a gangster. Second was a thief. Third was politician, but they mean the same thing anyway.

No man was particularly attached to fatherhood, " Yeah, I see my brats once a week. "

" Sheesh, you're lucky. I had to cut back work when my wife delivered. I just don't get why I have to do be there. What's your stance on that, Thomas? Does the husband have to be there?"

Thomas, smiling like a feral tiger: You know I delivered my baby, right?

OOOKAY, I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS!

Okay, be Thomas Wayne, doctor, philanthropist, old money, living in Gotham with your beautiful wife and your beautiful boyfriend, and you're having a son.

(Martha makes a funny joke about needing more girls in the house, and Alfred reminds her she throws most of her feminine relationships away after a month and a half.)

This is Gotham city. This place breeds corruption and desperation like a petri dish. You inherited the role of a founding family heir from a father you never liked and every secret organization and mobster has been trying to put you in their pocket since.

And now you have a beautiful, tender, delicate baby boy.

Absolute fucking terror.

This boy is going to be a target for every walk of life from the ground to the sky. This boy is going to get seductive offers to corruption every day, this boy is going to be a walking paycheck for anyone who's in trouble, this boy is small, and vulnerable, and yours, and he's meat and money to everyone else out there.

His future is altogether uncertain, but there's a million possibilities out there, and most of them are terrible, and it's the worst kind of anxiety.

On top of this, based on your fic, Thomas did not have any kind of healthy relationship with his dad.

This makes it so much harder. Now you're Thomas, worried to death that the world is gonna eat your son alive, and wondering what kind of father you're gonna be.

Fatherhood and manliness are two toxic chemicals that mix into the water as far as Thomas can tell. Maybe Tommy can sleep a little easier knowing Alfred will be there, knowing Bruce's other father won't be taking Tommy's shit, will also be looking out for his boy. Maybe having such a good person there, too, will protect Bruce from the boogeyman inside every other man that is Fatherhood.

Because Thomas never met a father he liked. Thomas hated Ben. And he's so terrified he's going to be just like him.

But besides all of this, Thomas is here, now, holding his newborn baby in his hands. It was crazy getting ready for it — everyone was asking him if it was really a good idea for him to be delivering his own baby, but honestly, he would never forgive himself if he missed that chance. It was crazy, because Martha, his absolute fireworks show, his light in the dark, was soldiering through all of the contractions and the pain all the way to the delivery room. And Alfred's just outside, putting out fires all over the manor as they get ready for a bump turned into a baby, Tommy's rock calmly pacing and bringing order and certainty to a day so very full of chaos and fear.

And it's a lot. It's so much. But in the scrubs, with the mask and the gloves, Tommy's hands are steady and he breathes evenly, and he holds his wife's and child's lives in those hands, and he loves them endlessly. Nothing can go wrong, and he wouldn't trade the chance to be there for both of them through this for anything.

He's scared, of himself, of Gotham, but as his little boy's growing up, he just takes the moments he can get and he does everything in his power to make his little mini-me boy as happy as physically possible. He takes every moment to give Bruce what he wanted at that age.

#Thomas Wayne #Bruce Wayne #Martha Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #every time you talk about Tommy I just love him more #he's such a freakin' guy #love him #PennyWaynes #can I ax you something?

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dayfalwastaken · 10 months

Text

The Devil meets the Rabbit's proxy.

“I do hate to see squandered potential. You understand. Your ex-employer, Mr. Afton, had neglected to inform you of… well, everything that was important. Things you should have known before you were sent to act independently, as much as you could have, anyway… given your particular… predicament.” He walked around her. Slowly, and almost gracefully, taking careful steps and speaking as if he was disappointed, though also a bit amused. “In spite of your lack of general, er- information, however… you have performed spectacularly.” He stopped right before her, holding his hands in front of himself like one would do when saying a prayer. “Such performance warrants… reward.”

She didn’t wait for him to continue. Her mind went to the one thing she’d wanted since the start. Above his promises and certainties about her future, above her own goals, small as they were. She’d never forgotten why she’d started this in the first place. Ever since her “birth”, the sole purpose for pushing so far…

“I want-” She couldn’t get three words out before the other’s expression turned pitying.

“-I apologize, Miss Vanny, but I cannot bring your mother back.”

She felt like screaming. Like she would rip her hair off and claw her eyes out the next second.

Finally, after the hell she’d endured for almost two years, she’d found someone who could have helped her. Saved the remainders of her mental well-being. Saved…

Because despite those memories not belonging to her, she had them all the same. Vanny remembered the lies she had told at the pressure of her old man- the betrayed look on her mother’s face as she lost the court battle. And later, the police coming to inform them of what had happened. It was all there, always. The guilt, first and foremost, followed by the determination. The pain too. Not just Vanessa’s.

And just as hope had begun to shine her way, there was nothing. Again. As it had been with Afton. A possibility of peace ripped out of her grasp.

She supposed she did not deserve it after all the lives she’d cut short.

She didn’t know why she kept going. Why she put herself through this hell instead of trying her hardest to fight back. There was nothing left to lose, after all. Nothing to be threatened with. Vanessa had had her life striped of any source of joy long ago, and with her… so had Vanny’s.

“Do not look so downcast, my dear. There is something else I can offer… Something that I know you would find of… equal value.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” She barked back, venom dripping from her tone. She was tired of everyone’s bullshit.

The Shadow Freddy tipped his head forward, dots of light gleaming brighter in the darkness that surrounded most of his form. She didn’t have to see him smile to know he had done so.

“Agency.”

The void enveloped him once again, and in his place a spotlight shined, illuminating a round wooden table with a VR headset on top.

“Put on the headset, Miss Vanny. Put it on and… face your reflection.”

...

(This is a a preview of chapter 23, but I just had to get it out. Y'know, to let people know of what comes after. I guess I shouldn't be wondering why it's taking me so long to post the next chapter if I'm working ahead, should I XD 😅?)

#Shadow Freddy #Vanny #sb vanny #fnaf shadow freddy #fnaf vanny #fnaf vanessa #Vannesa A.#Security Breach #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #ATSAT #fnaf fanfic #preview #snippet #out of context #chapter 23 #subject to change

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who-dat-homeless · 17 days

Text

Okay sibs there's an almost 2k wip that I will never finish because I suddenly felt like I don't like the idea at all and I really really don't want to finish it. But I guess I can put it here bc it's not bad for a wip imo Dunno how you usually put wips so.

Spock accidently experiencing death whilst in a mind meld with a dying creature

For lack of a better metaphor it feels like a fourth degree burn.

Not in a sense of a great pain, more like in a sense of a great loss of any sensation. Layer after layer losing any ability to feel anything at all, be it an agonizing pain or a soft touch of a spring breeze.

What’s even worse – he’s vulcan. Oh how he prides himself upon being one, but with pride goes its coast – he’s too well aware of what’s happening in his body. He can shut off any pain, he can stop impulses from running up his brain to disturb his precious mind, he meditates, he knows over a dozen breathing techniques, he can pinpoint a source of pain down to millimeters.

And now he feels how senses in his body die. One after another. He feels as all five layers of epidermis from stratum corneum down to stratum basale all one after another lose their functions, lose their sensitivity. It is painful, of course it is, but more than painful it’s frightening. He’s not in control. He can’t stop it. He can’t even take another breath to hold himself together. He screams. His mind is a mess but a little part, the smallest little patch of logic, stoicism and everything he likes to call *vulcan* feels ashamed of such a pathetic show of pain. He must control himself.

Even though it’s impossible.

He’s dying.

There’s nothing to control. Only to accept.

Even though he can’t. He has no right to accept it.

He’s on duty. He’s a valuable officer. And he must protect himself.

Pain worsens with every second and he can’t feel his legs, he can’t feel his forearms, his head cracks and big sweat droplets run down the neck. So ticklish. Such a strange sensation amidst the pain.

He’s dying surprisingly fast but not fast enough to relieve him of this pain. He must fight back, he must survive, but how? How?.. His mind is not his own anymore, his mind is suppressed by fear and pain and it doesn’t seem to rebel in the nearest future.

It’s not even cold. He thought it would be cold, how many times he heard about how cold death is, how many times he touched a corpse only to find it considerably cold, but now neither cold nor warm. It's an absolute nothing and he can't comprehend it. The small part of his brain, the one that fears, the one that bare teeth as a stupid display of happiness, the one that screeches and slither around like an ancient reptile, the one he calls *human* screams and tries to take another breath.

It’s useless.

There’s no need for oxygen for a dead brain.

Vulcan shuts his mouth – he must not show any fear or any pain. If he must die he must die in a vulcan way – with dignity and cold certainty of what is awaiting for him.

Human bares his teeth – he must survive at any cost. He must try until he runs out of breath. If he must scream – he will. if he must roll in dust – he will. If he must cry – he will. The horror of non-existence is incomprehensible so he must live. In agony, in pain, filled with fire, filled with cold, but he must live.

But then he dies.

And there’s nothing he can do.

***

– Spock!

He can’t stop shaking him even though he knows it’s useless. The creature died while Spock was still in the mindmeld with it and now his eyes are rolled backwards and he inhales and inhales but he can’t exhale. If nothing is done soon enough Spock will just suffocate.

Kirk stops shaking him, puts him back on the ground and lightly slaps his cheeks. No response. He clenches his teeth and withdraws his arm to slap Spock across his face when Bones finally comes and grabs his hand midst air.

– Jim, for god’s sake, snap out of it! Step back.

It takes Kirk two seconds, no more, to blink and process what's been said to him. He gets on his feet and lets McCoy work. For a moment in the darkness of this enormous cave shines the metall of an ampul. Second later a quiet sound of injection, so loud in the cold silence, died down. Kirk didn’t feel an ounce of relief. He's been friends with McCoy long enough to know that no injection, no pill or mixture is a total cure for all. Especially now, when Spock isn’t even hurt, not actually, not physically. McCoy can help when it's a physical injury. But when it’s mental…

Spock finally takes a long inhale and loudly exhales, all the muscles in his body loosens and for a moment it seems like he’s going to be okay.

McCoy leans back. He takes Spock’s wrist, adjusts his hands and then…

And then he furrows his brows. Kirk remains quiet but he already knows – Bones will find no pulse at the wrist. Nor at the neck. Nor at any other point. Yet still he’s silent. He’s not a medic after all, just some stupid little captain with a professional deformation called “Hope for the best, expect the worst”.

McCoy tries to find a pulse at the wrist but at some point his hand races to the neck. Same deal. Seconds past. Kirk flexes his jaw. He’s useless now. He tries not to think about it.

McCoy's face flashes fear and he leans on the Spock’s chest. His mouth agape. He licks his lips waiting for anything. The scariest part is anticipation. He waits for anything – for him to respond, for him to not respond, for literally anything.

McCoy’s eyes racing – ancient brain tries to find the source of the sound he’s looking for, not understanding that it’s hidden beneath meat and bones. Kirk clenches his fists, nails sinks into the flesh. He wants this pain to distract him but his eyes ache from how much he focuses on Spock’s lifeless figure.

Moments passes by.

A single droplet of unknown liquid drips from the cave’s ceiling.

Kirk bites his lower lip.

And then McCoy takes a sudden loud breath, squints his eyes and sits straight.

– I swear to god, – he whispered on the exhale, – one day I’ll kill him with my bare hands…

– Bones-

– He’s alive, okay? It’s just that his heart decided it would be oh so funny to slow his pulse to the point it almost doesn't exist and call it a day.

– But it’s… bad, isn’t it?

– For humans – yes. For vulcans – a regular self-preservation measure. He’ll be fine.

Finally Kirk’s tensed shoulders drop. He lets out a tired exhale.

– Would it be dangerous for him if I “transport” him myself or should we wait for a gurney?

– There’s no physical injury as far as I can tell so you can get him up. Besides I don’t want to spend another minute in these caves, not only can we be killed any other minute but it smells absolutely horrendous in here.

Kirk paid no attention to the remark. Right now, the moment they speak, dozens of Enterprise personnel beamed up injured from caves collapse and creature’s assault. Actually it’s better than the operation on the Janus IV. But only in the matter that almost no one died. But injured… Kirk knows McCoy already thinks how to arrange people – sickbay of Enterprise is spacious by comparison to other ship’s but at the end of the day it can accommodate oh so many people. And then he has to decide and decide quickly – who can wait for help and who needs it right away, what injuries he has to inspect himself and what he can delegate to nurses.

McCoy is on edge and it does no justice to his temper.

Kirk knows to ignore it.

He steps closer to Spock, squats, takes Spock’s one hand and in one swift motion get’s him on his own back. Spock is much taller than Kirk and weighs accordingly, it takes Kirk a second time to stand up. It still fascinates him that the unconscious body seems to weigh more. He tries to entertain himself with such a silly lil thought rather than thinking about how his friend is lying on his shoulders unconsiouse because he just quite literally experienced death in all of its glory.

– Can we beam up from here?

McCoy got the empty ampule and was ready to go.

– No, we gotta return to the station. For some reason the ship can’t get to us down here.

– Oh mother of-, McCoy started but quickly aborted, – Okay, let’s waste no time I have a job to do.

– Get your phaser ready. Don't hesitate to use it.

– Is it of any use?

Kirk stares at him. He gives McCoy a little smile.

– Get your phaser ready.

McCoy wants to shout at him, Kirk can tell from just one look at him, but he draws his phaser and doesn't ask any further questions.

Of course phasers are useless there, but what else could've Kirk said? Of course McCoy would've appreciated it if Kirk just finally admitted that they're helpless in this situation, but how could he admit it when his whole career is based on him looking confident enough for people to not get into a state of maddening panic every time something goes wrong? Of course Kirk himself would've like to show this little pathetic, yet still very human, fear – his first officer is out for good, almost third of his personnel injured, almost third of miners is dead, they all being chased by unknown creature that still showed no sign of being injured or at least tired –but he's not a human, not on duty, he's the symbol, the beacon, people look for him for guidance, more than guidance, they look at him for reassurance. He's a glacier, he's stoic, he keeps on smiling in a dire situation. He can't just say “it's useless”. He's the last hope for people around him. If captain James T. Kirk still smiles, it means it's not that bad. They'll figure it out somehow. They'll be fine.

They start to walk. McCoy paranoingnly turns on each sudden sound he hears and the only thing Kirk can do in this situation is to pray to whoever listens that this little walk be uneventful. McCoy is a healer, he's more than useless with a phaser.

Creatures lure in the dark seeking revenge for a killed brother but are too scared of the barbaric humans to come closer. Kirk is scared. Not in a typical sense, not like usual people are. Sometimes he feels like his gland in charge of fear atrophied long ago – you can’t be scared in the middle of operation, you can be either before it or after, never in the midst – and instead there's a mechanic substituted in its place.

“Hey, Jamey, don't want to bother but this shting is pretty shpooky to me and if I were you(which I'm obviously not) I would've been pretty damn scared. But you're your own man, I mean, do what you think is right, I'm by no means telling you how to act. So, here's your adrenalin, cortisol, lactic acid and some other chems, you know what to do with them too-da-loo~”

And this one silly thought keeps him focused. Imagining your own fear as a friendly machine that just does things it's programmed to, as a separate from you entity, makes it easier to manage. He's not his fear, and suddenly he can think logically, and suddenly his mind is in control.

Spock's tunic brushes against his cheek. Ticklish. Such a strange sensation amidst the chaos.

#star trek #tos #star trek tos #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #leonard mccoy #kirk #james t kirk

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incarnadinedreams · 1 year

Note

What do you like about jc?

Oh my goodness what don't I love about him!

Well, first and most importantly, he has a purple lightning whip.

Secondly, you know how the elements of a tasty dish are salt, fat, acid, heat? Well he's salty, he's acidic, he's a spicy Yunmeng boy, and some sources of mixed repute claim he's got a nice fat ass. All the elements for a delicious snack are right there!!! He has the range, the depth, the complexity!

Jokes aside, a lot of it really is just based on vibes. I just... liked him pretty much immediately. My heart was won at "I'm his uncle. Any last words?" and it only got better from there. He's got most of my favorite lines in the book - whether funny or completely heart-wrenching, both directly in his dialog or about him. His sarcastic comments are always hilarious, and he's often enough actually a voice of reason and responsibility (promptly ignored). The vast majority of the time when he's not in some absurdly extreme and traumatic situation he's being pretty normal and seems perfectly likeable to me.

I enjoy that from the start he's mostly pretty practical. One of the first times we see him, he desperately wants to smack Lan Wangji but he's run the cost-benefit analysis in his mind and it's not worth it, so (grumpily) he does not. Some people point out his 'definitely don't start a petty fight unless you know you can win' reasoning as some sort of point of cowardice, but my reaction to that scene was thank god, finally someone in a fantasy novel has some common fucking sense!

Except, of course, on one very specific topic: Wei Wuxian. And then there's like a 50/50 chance all that consideration goes out the window instantly. A little pinch of unhinged obsession adds so much extra flavor! With the amount of overtime he's pulling in sect conferences he deserves a little derangement from time to time, as a treat. And that intensity goes both ways.

That fervent certainty that Wei Wuxian would be back some day, that not even death could hold him - a conviction bordering on madness, except in the end he was right? Hot.

On the other end, he's willing to sacrifice himself for Wei Wuxian and other people who loves over and over and over again throughout the story (even if he's mad about it), until he can't do that without throwing other people he's responsible for under the bus.

To the point that when we get to the big reveal after Guanyin Temple about how he was captured by the Wens... once the shock fades, you step back and think 'wait, why was that even a surprise to me at all?' The guy just took a sword through the chest for Wei Wuxian like an hour earlier (even if it was unnecessary and therefore mostly embarrassing), and was about to run back into that cave at the Second Siege with no spiritual power and a sword he couldn't even lift three days before that, and yet we're surprised he gave himself up back then?

And of course, the same goes for his nephew and I just love them so much. He doesn't hesitate for a moment to offer himself as a hostage instead of Jin Ling at the temple. He may sometimes struggle to express his love in a way that's more palatable than the prickly sharp thing it can sometimes be, but it's undeniably there. When Jin Ling is crying after the Second Siege, it's Jiang Cheng he goes to without hesitation - and that "Who did this to you?!" line, the way he doesn't hesitate to pull him away somewhere private and stick by his side.

Even things that are meant to cast him in a bad light, like his 400 spirit nets fiasco, show him also anxiously helicopter-uncling his way through baby's first "solo" night hunt, complete with undercover agents just in case, is proof that he at least cares very deeply. I think if you look beyond the surface, it's also pretty obvious why he'd spare no expense and use any method to give his bullied nephew the best debut night hunt possible in a society where talent and prestige are incredibly important to his future ability to consolidate power as the Jin heir. He wants to shield him from the same insecurities and pain he felt, especially where being overshadowed was used against him in ways that had specific negative impacts on his ability to protect people he cared about.

Another of the reasons I love him so much is because his grief is so intense that it's palpable. Those scenes post-fall of Lotus Pier where he's oscillating between numbed shock and fury, just... feel so real, and relatable, and resonate in way that's just horribly accurate. It's like his grief jumps off the page, you can feel the hurricane of horror and loss crashing into him. The scene at Nightless City, that moment where he says "Didn't you say that you could control it, that it would be fine?", where the last of his faith in Wei Wuxian shatters and the fracture is complete, like two halves of a whole have finally snapped apart and there's nothing left... I just love the intensity and desperation.

But even more, he keeps going after. He's stubbornly alive, despite it all, and I don't think he gets nearly enough credit for the fact that he's actually able to handle things pretty well, considering the situations involved. He has a breakdown about it and then he picks himself up and gets back to work. He's remarkably resilient, in ways that aren't necessarily flashy or obvious at first. Too much is made out of the ways he's broken or bitter when for the most part he's actually remarkably functional in the face of horrible traumas!

I have been trying very hard not to just spam my favorite quotes in here but this is really my favoritest favorite (from chapter 61) because it just sums him up so beautifully:

... the most laughable one was the YunmengJiang Sect, the people of which either had been killed or had scattered, leaving only Jiang Cheng, who was younger than even Lan XiChen and was still a child born yesterday, who had nobody in his hands but still dared call himself sect leader, holding up the banner of rebellion as he recruited new disciples.

Because he does the hard work, day in and day out. The boring, tedious, constant work - the endless late nights dealing with the constant problems. But he does it, and he mostly accomplishes what he sets out to do.

It's so sad that all the things he does very well get overshadowed by his insecurities, because in the end, hasn't he done incredible things? Hasn't he survived? Hasn't he gone from the youngest sect leader with nothing and nobody that Wen Ruohan could only laugh at, to "No matter which clan you choose to offend, you shouldn't offend the Jiang clan, and no matter which person you choose to offend, you shouldn't offend Jiang Cheng"?

He might be a little scarred, but isn't he succeeding all the same?

(He should probably hire a PR firm to handle the rumors his resting bitch face causes though.)

#thinking too much about jiang cheng yet again #I will never turn down a chance to talk about him #he's just so him!#late stage jiang cheng derangement syndrome on full display here

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ludoval · 2 years

Text

The Son of Hell

Morpheus x Male!Reader

Summary: Morpheus had been absent for a week in the usual secret gathering that you both had agreed to do, yet you still waited.

Tags: Making up, a bit angst oop, or maybe actually angst, you are the son of hell and pretty much intense-ish, implied pyromancy.

1367 words

You were held under a weather that spoke of a future pouring. Upon a public bench you brandished a bitter face all the while your eyebrows growled low—and below a certainty, your nostrils would often twitch with an utmost anger.

If not with control, you would’ve thawed the earth with fire.

It had been a hellish week without Morpheus attempting to stay true to his and your accordance: a hush-hush meeting at the earthly park, precisely within the middle of a busy London. It was agreed upon, both of you had even uttered the sacred promises to always arrive in the field of sun-bathed to converse everyday, to catch up, as mortals put it. You knew the creeping risks of shielding your whereabouts from your mother, to slither your lie regarding your motives to walk the human world, yet you accepted the compromises to yield your beloved. And now it felt wholly like Morpheus did not give an inkling thought for you. For a whole week, that.

Regardless, you still waited, as a lonesome burning man in each midday. For every minute Morpheus left by.

Today’s all the same, the tell-tale signs of Morpheus’ frigid arrival was absent, but you were too thorny to admit defeat that maybe, just maybe, he may have cursed both of your circling hearts to fall from grace. Your original glower twisted more excessively at the thought, crossing your hands—on par to what you were feeling, crossed out. This was unacceptable, if Morpheus declared to part ways, he should have come face to face to confess such a thing—

“Your scowl could use a gentle caress,” Morpheus comforted.

You blanched backward, clothing of yours scrapping the wooden bench, so harshly pressed upon each other. You focused heavenward, to the place where you could witness the perfection that cradled Morpheus’s face. You were about to declare his name like yearnful prayers, it sat sacred on the tip of your tied tongue before your consciousness unraveled you right back to your anger. An anger toward Morpheus.

In contrast, the Endless being before you was nothing like anger, he was rather joyful under the passive expressions he always gave out. His steely eyes embraced a longing as he perceived his lover after all the vanishing he had to deal with for Rose and Corinthian. Right at this moment, it felt right to be beside the man who called to his heart. “I take it that you are vengeful of me?”

“Undeniably so,” you muttered with such hardened teeth—might as well be carnassials. your red heart felt as if slain to dots, you didn’t hold any idea to the reason of Morpheus’ absences, every form shifted and ever-changing for you to truly come up with an answer. For all you knew, he was absolutely done with you. “I have stalled for so long, stoned here waiting for you—”

Morpheus smiled, eyes glimmering despite the lack of sunlight under thundering skies. He’s finally here.

“I do not wish to see you smile, Morpheus. I’m far from being done.”

“I know.” His heart tenderized within the exchange, still smiling that gentle smile. His lover was always so honest in voicing his emotions, and Morpheus, at all times, would unfailingly reach out his hands to soften any sadness that fell off of you like tears—so he listened: to every tremble, every heartbeat, every heartbreak.

He sat beside your stony figure with fingers wanting to feel, yet he willed his muscles to rest upon his lap instead. There will be time for that.

“I was worried. You weren’t here for so long—I know I know it has been only a week yet, I couldn’t help that your disappearance felt like a damned century.” You snarled like the hounds of hell, pain twisting with despair that you found it hard to breathe for a second. “I was steps away from praying to your sigil so that—” you swallowed, voice dropping wearier “— so that I could grasp a chance to see you again. But mother was nearby. As she always would.”

Morpheus narrowed his smile, the bent of his striking eyebrows began to slip with sadness; as much as he cherished seeing his lover again, even his subconsciousness omitted his usual gloom, the blue which drowned his man was becoming unbearable. “I deeply apologize. . . it was never my inten—”

“Your reasons better be justified.” The way you beheld the regret on his face was cut-sharp, fingers placed beside each of your thigh grumping the seat’s edge to filth. Severance was almost. “Do tell me something worthwhile.”

He glanced down, nodded, then, “There was a Vortex,” He looked toward you. “To make matters worse, a nightmare of mine rumpled the situation further by walking the Waking world, manipulating everything.”

You didn’t muster any word, just a stare which would burrow fears to the mightiest of men. But under the thundering emotions you shield yourself in—laid a want to hold Morpheus against your body, to feel his solidity and soul uniting as one with yours again.

“Other than his ordeal, I finally found out Desire were. . . they were almost the face to every hardship that was stirring upon my realm.” The sadness which laced his raspy voice thrummed to your heart, searing it to sense the similar pain that he so felt. “My own sibling. . . were in the frontline of what could be my demise. I had to care for the problems, you see?”

“By sidelining me in the proc—”

“No, no, I know, I was at fault for that. I could have told you, yet I didn’t. And I apologize for that.” So carefully he brought his hand to your indurated one, which hadn’t changed in position from the seat, slipping his fingers to the indentations in between yours, to soothe you, calm you from your mad. And he did. Your hand began to soften from his skin, and with time his fingers slept upon yours.

“I’m sorry. . .” He looked into your eyes with countless genuinities that you could see that he wasn’t lying, he never did anyway, such a thing tipped the blue from your body down and down, reddening your soul with love. “I will never repeat what I have caused to you, I learned a thing or two while I was away.” The intertwined hands of yours and his were warming, leading you to turn over your hand so he could snuggle his fingers more comfortably against your palm. You breathed out.

Your frost was weeping from his warmth, heartbeats seemed to shake the ribs like usual. You yearned to tuck him in your arms. But for now, your wound was still fresh. “Lucienne?”

“Lucienne.”

You nodded, softly, never leaving his dark presence from your sight. Soaring flames which once crowned your face were no more but neutralities. Nonetheless, Morpheus witnessed the adoration that never left you even since the first second he’d arrived.

“Well, I am still crossed with you.” A shrug shook your body, eyes crawling over the span of the park instead of showing how much you craved him. Aside from the indifference that you felt, the tangling hands were still as latched as ever, showing a sign of forever. But God, he made you feel so at home.

“Is that so?” You could hear him spoke, his hand tightening the united grasp to notify you of his apology, fondness.

Although you were uncaring at the moment, or, at least tried to mirror him with your disappointment, you found it hard to be harsh with him. He was yours as much as you were his. And you didn’t hurt what you dearly love.

“Correct. I could’ve aided you in your journey. Ended whatever that harmed you.” A little less staring wouldn’t be alright, but you alternatively further focused on a passing border collie and its owner. Morpheus’ adoring stare, it was weighing the side of your face.

“You would disregard your mother’s order to ban me from your existence, to aid me?”

This time seriousness did take you, eyes suddenly in pair to his. You tilted your head just a little, serious shaping to care, then you uttered, “I would decimate the seven of hells for you,”

#idk if this is good yall #its the first ever fic ive ever written after so so long im cryingg #morpheus x male reader #dream of the endless x male reader #dream x male reader #the sandman #my fic #male reader

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adalwolfgang · 10 months

Note

Howdy! I was wondering if I may request some Yandere Severen content, pleaseeeee ? Two seem to go kinda hand-in-hand, haha. Cheers, friend!

I am so sorry it took me this long to post this, I've been busy with personal life and hadn't had a chance to sit down and write. I know this is short, which is why I will most likely create a part two, so feel free to message me if you have any ideas on what I should add.

Yandere Severen Van Sickle

Summary: Severen is a manipulative type of yandere and has no problem playing the long game, making sure that you can't ever get rid of him.

Characters: Severen, Diamondback, Jesse Hooker, Homer, Mae, Caleb Colton.

(Future) Warnings: Blood/Gore/swearing/violence, Manipulation, Dubcon, Stalking, Ooc for Severen?, Reader smokes, not proofread

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)!

Severen and his family saunter into the bar, all taking seats at a booth close to the exit. Severen looked around the bar before his eyes landed on you. Playing pool with some other patrons in the bar. Your scent hitting him like a truck. Immediately, he didn't want you to be a part of the menu. He wanted you alive, and most certainty didn't want you to witness the horrors and blood bath could commence, Severen sauntered over to you. The jingle of his spurs echoing through the bar with each step he took. He grabs ahold of your arm, leaning to whisper in your ear.

"If I were you darlin', I'd get outta' here as fast as yer legs can take ya."

You give a look of puzzlement, staring between him and the patrons you were playing with. At first you thought the stranger was just messing around but the stern look on his face said otherwise. Different scenarios ran through your mind on why he wanted you to leave but you didn't want to take any chances and quickly left the bar.

After Severen and his family had their fill, he quickly exited the bar, sniffing out your scent which didn't take him long. Jesse shouted after him when he took off in the direction of your scent. Still covered head to toe in blood, his clothes stained. His eyes scanned around every direction, desperate to see your face again.

He raced by an alleyway before halting in his tracks and walking backwards to the opening of the alley. There you were, pressing your back against the wall, smoking a cigarette. He smirks to himself, ducking down behind a nearby dumpster before peering over it to watch you. If it wasn't for the fact he was covered in dried blood, he would've loved nothing more than to trot right up to you and introduce himself. He would have to figure out where you were staying and come back later once properly dressed. For now, watching you from afar would have to do. After getting a few more puffs from your cigarette, you toss it to the ground before stomping on it with your shoe, placing your hand in your pockets and walking out of the alleyway.

Severen followed you all the way back to your apartment, keeping himself hidden in the shadows. His eyes trained on you like the apex predator he is. He was closer to you now. If he stopped himself from holding back, he would have been able to reach out and touch you. Your scent and proximity were driving him crazy as you kept walking, oblivious to the danger that walked behind you. All the more reason Severen had to have you. You weren't safe out here alone, and who all to protect you other than him?

When you started making your way inside an apartment building, Severen halted in his tracks. He nipped the inside of his cheek, looking toward the rising sun then back at the building you just walked into. His brow knitted together as he finally decided that he would come back the next time the sun fell. He will take you with him to meet his family and live on the road with them. In time you would learn their ways and adapt. Then, he would turn you. Even if you didn't want to be a vampire, he wouldn't take no for an answer. He had all eternity, so patience was fine by him.

In the end, you would be his forever. No matter what.

#severen van sickle #severen van sickle x reader #severen x reader #severen #bill paxton #near dark #horror movies #slashers x reader #slasher community #slasher x reader

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da12thkind · 10 months

Text

Tumblr and The Old Internet Re-Awakens, An Opinion Essay

This is going to be a super long post about my thoughts on the current state of the internet, with a chunk of what I'm about to say having been stuff I've already said elsewhere on other sites. To save your dash, I'll be putting a READ MORE break.

The fact that Twitter and Reddit have basically been destroyed by their own hubris is both hilarious and sad. It's funny because "ha ha rich man's hubris" but also sad because this is very emblematic of the current direction many social media companies that have been at the top for too long are going.

Ever since the muskrat purchased Twitter, it was clear from the beginning that something seriously wrong had happened, with worse decisions to follow. Something I hadn't realized was just how extensive the ripple effects of this would be. Reddit is now being destroyed by their leader's desire for more and more money, as if they needed any more.

I've been having this conversation with my friends via Discord and with strangers on the Starmen dot net forums. The writing is on the walls. The internet is moving towards a future that caters to advertisers more than its users. If there's even the slightest hint of getting more money by screwing over users, the higher ups of a given site will be chomping at the bit.

Where does that leave us?

Well, with Reddit and Twitter both now in a state of complete and total self-destruction, albeit rather slowly, we have seen an influx of new and returning users. Fantastic! I love when an old place gets new life breathed into it.

That being said, I don't believe that Tumblr is the bastion of The Old Internet, far from it, and many of you would agree.

Instead, I think that the resurgence in Tumblr's popularity could be just the first step towards the return of The Old Internet. We have the power to go back to the days of making our own websites. Information on web design and web programming are available online for free, in addition to many places offering free hosting services for a basic website or blog that don't need many bells or whistles (just don't go to GoDaddy).

Tumblr, in my opinion, once you know how to use the advanced editing tools, can make for a great "Baby's First Web Blog." There are some users on here that have made GORGEOUS blogs that will absolutely blow you away.

What about peer-to-peer communications?

We've seen that Discord has been another victim to the plague that is internet gentrification. They've removed the discriminators for usernames, had a store put in, and so many other little changes that have consistently annoyed the end users.

That being said... Discord is not going to be falling apart anytime soon. It's still a fantastic way to connect with many people at once and have quick access to all your different communities.

However, you could make the case, and I certainly try to, that internet forums fulfill the same thing. It is true that forums for many topics have drifted into the void of internet history, but is that not simply the nature of the internet? Communities sprout up, thrive, have an internal way, break apart, and start anew. We've seen that with many Discord servers, albeit rather small ones.

I will still hold my ground that forums should be revitalized if we truly want to go back to the days of old.

What does the future hold?

I... don't know. Despite my vast horde of opinions, research, and second-hand accounts of what The Old Internet was like and how The Current Internet is becoming, I cannot say for absolute certainty that we will see a total collapse of these tech empires. At the very least, however, I do believe that they will become hollowed shells of their former selves.

I have yet to talk about YouTube and its history, and, to be quite frank with you all, I simply must avoid that topic for now. All I will say is that I implore my fellow content creators, specifically those that create Video On-Demand content for YouTube and TikTok, to look into creating your own websites to host your content in the event that something happens to these empires, too. If you don't have offline copies of your videos, do so when you can.

That will be it for now. Thank you for reading this essay. I love your faces. Stay safe.

#da12thkind text post #opinion essay #opinion #essay #the old internet #internet #twitter #reddit #tumblr #twitpocalypse #elongated muskrat #reddit refugee

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qroier · 5 months

Text

invited by @magicinverse to overanalyze the song roier played while waiting for pepito to log back in post getting kicked by lag through a spiderbit lens and i RAN with it, enjoy o7. all of this obviously from roier cubito's pov

Que Lloro - Sin Bandera

first up probably one of the single most roier cubito vibed lines ever: tengo que aceptar, pero si no te explico, lo que siento dentro, no vas a entender cuando me veas llorar / i have to accept, but if i don't explain, what i feel inside, you won't understand when you see me cry. up until now, he hasn't had to explain, not really. cellbit just gets him anyway and always. but clearly, something went wrong, if cellbit thought he could just do that, if cellbit thought going where roier can't follow without giving him any choice in the matter is somehow okay. before, explaining how he felt wasn't for cellbit. it was for roier himself, to try and process his emotions. but now it has to be for cellbit because something went wrong and the idea of him understanding how roier's feeling is no longer a certainty or fact of life. the conversation is no longer a worried, quiet confessional next to a noisy png filled hospital but instead the idea of a future confrontation that will be tinged sour by the reminder of how much things have changed.

More importantly though, he knows that if cellbit is alive and that if cellbit does return and that future confrontation does happen then it is inevitable that he will forgive him. quedate un momento asi, no mires hacia mi, que no podria aguantar, si clavas tu mirada, que me hiela el cuerpo, me ha pasado antes, que no puedo hablar / stay a moment like this, don't look toward me, i couldn't bear it now, if you fix your gaze, that chills my body, it's happened to me before, that i cannot talk. but he can't bear the idea of forgiving him yet. he needs to hold on to the anger for just a little bit longer, to wallow in the pain of being abandoned yet again for just a few more moments. to let the hurt overpower the love just for now. because the moment that cellbit looks at him again, the relief of him being alive will be all-consuming.

tal vez piensas que estoy loco, y es verdad: un poco / maybe you think i'm crazy, and it's true: a little. And yeah, maybe it is a little crazy that roier will be willing and able to forgive cellbit after all that. But love’s funny like that, no?

So for now, while cellbit is not here, he will keep clutching on to that pain. And he’ll be hurt, and he’ll be bitter, and yeah, he’ll even be a bit cruel to himself in his own head, blaming himself for not expecting what for all intents and purposes has always been the expected (because everyone before cellbit has also always left). nunca me senti tan solo, como cuando ayer, de pronto lo entendi mientras callaba, la vida me dijo a gritos, que nunca te tuve y nunca te perdi / i never felt so alone, like when yesterday, suddenly i understood while i was silent, life told me in shouts, that i never had you and i never lost you. At least if he’s callously straight forward and “”logical”” to himself, if he’s cruel and tries to convince himself that, well, clearly he should have been distrusting all along clearly he never really had cellbit clearly this was inevitable, if he approaches this in an i told you so matter, he can’t give in to the inevitable hope that keeps trying to surface and tell him that cellbit is not dead. Because if he does hope, and if that hope turns out to be wrong, again, that will be deadly. Because clearly cellbit’s actions are life shouting at him that he should have expected this all along. Because every time someone has left that has been life shouting at him that he doesn’t deserve that familial connection.

y me explicaba que el amor es una cosa que se da de pronto en forma natural, lleno de fuego, si lo forzas se marchita sin tener principio, llega a su final / and it explained to me that love was one thing that happens suddenly in a natural way, full of fire, if you force it it withers without a beginning, it comes to an end. This is basically their entire relationship. Their love is full of fire and passion, and it came about in such a natural way that, as cccellbit said it himself that one time, it looks inevitable if you go back and follow it from the start. And yet some people sometimes still try to complain that it was too sudden, completely ignoring how naturally it built up and how important their relationship is to the both of them.

ahora, tal vez, lo puedas entender, que si me tocas se quema mi piel / maybe now you can understand, that if you touch me my skin starts to burn. If just the idea of cellbit is distracting enough as is it will be impossible to ignore him when cellbit is in his arms again. Roier’ll be forced to confront the trust that cellbit has broken and how the love he has for him nevertheless endures. This is a reminder directed to the both of them right here.

ahora, tal vez, lo puedas entender, y no te vuelvas si no quieres ver que lloro por ti, que lloro sin ti / maybe now you can understand, don't return if you don't want to see, that i cry for you, that i cry without you. And again challenging cellbit, acknowledging that roier knows how much his own pain and hurt will affect cellbit if he ever sees it. Making sure cellbit knows and is prepared to confront how much he has hurt him and how it is his fault.

que ya lo entendi, que no eres para mi, y lloro / that now i understand, that you aren’t for me, and i cry. Back to the self pity and bitterness and loathing because clearly the trust was not as strong as he thought it was. Clearly there must have been something wrong or off from the start. Clearly they weren’t as perfectly meant for each other as he always thought. So what is there left to do but cry. (or at least wallow in his pain)

#this is 100% for fun sorry for the disclaimer but i'm putting it there for myself otherwise i might go too wild #and actually start formating this like an essay and explaining myself like this is an essay #me @ me THIS IS FOR FUN! YOU DO NOT NEED TO EDIT A BILLION TIMES!!!!!#qsmp #spiderbit #speaking

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