#lance feels unworthy

[silverstonesainz-archive]

foolish

summary: foolishly, irrevocably, in too deep

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader ; kind of lance stroll x fem!reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: profanity, google translate spanish, implied smut, toxic behavior, jealousy, borderline emotional manipulation.

“Come on, you need to go out and stop waiting for a text that isn’t gonna come.” 

Tes doesn’t even spare you a glance as she tries to fix her makeup in the mirror. You lean back into the bed, a sigh leaving you. 

“I just don’t feel like going to the club on a Wednesday Tes,” You mutter, picking at your cuticles. 

“Bullshit.” She finally turns in her spot, moving to sit on the edge of bed by you, “You’re the biggest clubrat I’ve ever met and would never pass up the opportunity for a table and free booze.” 

You shrug, “Maybe I’ve changed.” 

She rolls her eyes, “No, you’re just down about Carlos, again. What happened now? He didn’t text you back? He leave you on read again?”

You grimace at her tone, words searing into your chest. He didn’t text you back was the problem, but she didn’t need to point it out.

There is something truly sick and twisted about the way you constantly feel the need to be near him. Time and time again, he’s proven unworthy of your time and yet you continue to give him more of it. And all your friends tell you to leave him. They tell you he’s a waste of your time, that you deserve so much better. But who’s to say that? Who’s to say that you deserve more than what Carlos is giving you, other than yourself?

Pushing and pulling, screaming and slamming doors only to come crawling back. It was an endless, tiring cycle. Admittedly, you were fucking exhausted. But then you see those pretty brown eyes, wide and filled with… fuck you didn’t even know what it was. But he looks at you and you can’t say no. There was no fighting him and that wide-eyed gaze. 

“I don’t get why you put up with his shit y/n,” Tes sighs, “You deserve so much better.”

“He’s not that bad,” You defend, “He’s good to me.” 

“Yeah, when he wants to be,” She mutters. “He hasn’t texted you in three freaking days. That’s not so ‘he’s good to me’ of him.” 

You look away from your best friend, setting your phone down on your lap. “Well we’re not dating, so he doesn’t have to keep me updated.”

Tes shakes her head, “You always have a defense.”

“I’m just saying Tes, I-”

“Yeah, I know. But like you said, you’re not dating. So you don’t have to sit at home by yourself, waiting on him. Let’s go have fun, let’s get crazy.” Tes smiles, pushing her long black hair over her shoulder, “Show him that you’re having fun without him. That you are better off without him.” 

You contemplated the idea. She’s right, maybe he will text you back if he saw that you were doing just fine without him. You pick up your phone to see if there are any changes, but alas your screen is still void of his name.  

“Y/n, fucks sake.” She shakes her head, standing from the bed and going to your closet. Tes pulls out the smallest black dress she could find, taking the fabric off the hanger and throwing it in your direction, “Put the dress on. We’re going.” 

In an hour’s time, with help from Tes, you were out the door and in a cab on the way to the club. As the car pulls up to the nightclub, you see a multitude of people crowding the door, feel the bass thumping in your heart. You pay for the cab before Tes drags you by the wrist. You both walk past the line, the multitude of people waiting to be let in and out of the cold. 

“The line is that way,” You say, pulling back slightly in an attempt to slow Tes down.  

“Pierre said to meet him in the back,” She says nonchalantly, eyes casted on her phone as they turn the corner.

“What?!” You yank your arm from her grip, stopping in your tracks. “Pierre?!”

“Y/n will you chill out?” She laughs, unaware (or possibly uncaring) of the panic on your face. “It’s just Pierre.”

“And who?”

“And who?” Tes looks at you confused. 

“Yeah, who else is at this stupid table?” You cross your arms over your chest, to prove a point but also to warm yourself. The little black dress is doing you very little favors in terms of keeping you warm. 

“I don’t know Y/n, we’ll have to go in and find out.” She begins to walk, but stops when she doesn’t hear you following. “Y/n, I wouldn’t purposely bring you to a club where Carlos is at. First off, I don’t like him. I’d rather swallow glass than to be in the same room as him. And second, Pierre doesn’t even hangout with him like that. I doubt he’ll be here. Now c’mon, it’s so fucking cold!” 

You grunt under your breath but follow anyway. Pierre is by the back entrance with a grin on his face as Tes approaches him, and wide eyes when he sees you.

“Didn’t think I’d see you tonight, Y/n,” Pierre smiles, outstretching his arm to give you a quick, half-assed side hug. “You look good.” 

You feel your cheeks tinge red when you see the way his blue eyes unapologetically scan your body, “Thanks Pierre.” 

You and Tes follow behind Pierre all the way to the table behind the DJ booth. The club is crowded, filled with dancing bodies and people crowding the bar for a severely overpriced vodka soda. There are a couple drivers and their partners at the table, the likes of Daniel and Heidi and George and Carmen already touchy and in their own world. It’s no surprise to you that Lando is already breathing down the DJ’s neck, bopping along to whatever house music song is playing.

What does surprise you, is that Lance is there sitting with Alex. They’re both too engrossed in the conversation to notice your or Tes, not that you minded. You grip Pierre’s arm, pulling him down so you can yell into his ear.

“You got a very interesting crowd here.” 

You see the way his shoulders shake as he chuckles, Pierre turning his head so he can respond, “Just put it in the driver’s chat. I don’t think anyone else is coming, if you were wondering.” 

“I wasn’t!” You scowl, and he laughs, nodding. He mouths a ‘sure’ to which you respond with a middle finger. 

When you turn, Tes is pouring shots of something clear. She pulls Lance and Alex over, handing them a glass each before giving you yours. You don’t hear whatever toast Tes says, but cheer anyways and down your first shot. 

Shot number two is shared with Daniel and Heidi. The third with Pierre. 

The fourth was solo, all on your own as Lance laughs at the grimace on your face. You pout at him, sitting by him as he shakes his head. 

“Feeling alright?” He asks, lips nearly brushing your ear. 

You nod, “Fantastic!” 

What you don’t see is Pierre doing a quick video of the area around him, the camera sweeping over you and Lance when he leans in to ask you something else. The whole conversation is a blur to you, mostly him asking about you. You never talked much to Lance, he always seemed so far from you and the people you normally hung out with. But in the drunken conversation, after yelling in the other’s ear for maybe fifteen minutes, you conclude that you like Lance. 

“Do you wanna dance?” You ask him, leaning in even closer. You can feel the ghost of Lance’s fingers on your thigh, but he doesn’t make a move. Your drunken spirit deflates slightly.

He shakes his head, “No. I have no rhythm, and I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of a pretty girl.” 

You grin widely, shaking your head, “Nonsense. I can teach you.” You try to stand, but all the alcohol rushes to your head and you stumble over. Lance is quick, hands moving to your waist to steady you. 

“You good?” He asks, thick brows furrowed. You nod quickly, finding your balance and standing in your place. Lance’s hands only linger for a moment longer before he pulls away, nodding. You flop back into your seat next to him, leaning back. 

There’s a tap on your shoulder and when you turn, Tes pushes her phone in front of your face. Your heart drops at the photo she’s showing you. It’s one of Carlos and some girl, his arm slung over her as they walk to wherever it may be. What really makes your chest ache is what comes after, the photo of him pressing a kiss on her temple. And to add insult to injury he was wearing the scarf you bought him. For christmas.

You push her phone away, “I need another drink.” 

Shot number five doesn’t burn as bad as the first four did, and you’d never find out about shot number six because Lance is grabbing your wrist to stop you. “Maybe you oughta slow down,” he suggests.

You shake your head, “I don’t think so. C’mon Lance, live a little.” 

You hand the glass over to him, smiling to mask the pain you’re currently feeling. Lance sighs, shrugging as he takes the small glass from your grasp and throwing the liquid down his throat quickly. You cheer loudly, quickly handing him some club soda to wash down the burn. 

“Lance Stroll,” You say loudly, slinging your arm over his shoulder and your other arm around his front in a sideways hug, “You might just be my new best friend.” And drunkenly, you press a kiss to his cheek

He laughs at your comment, his arm going around your torso to give you a friendly squeeze. “Whatever you say y/n.” 

You crane your neck, noticing the sheepish smile on his face. He doesn’t look over at you, instead keeping his shy gaze trained on whatever is in front of him. You’re about to say something when Lando’s loud voice interrupts you.

“Hey! You made it!” 

Your head turns at the sound of Lando’s voice, heart beating out of your chest when you see who he was referring to. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen and waiting for impact. Carlos’s brown eyes are on you, never leaving even as he shakes Lando’s hand. His gaze is angry, but subtle enough that only you know that it is. He only looks away when his best friend grabs him by the shoulders, shaking him as he says something that is drowned out by the music. 

Your mind is reeling, and the only sensible thing to do now is to down your sixth shot. It burns your throat when you do, and you’re frantically drinking out of Lance’s mixed drink to get rid of the taste. It doesn’t help, the ghost of tequila in the glass only makes it worse. Lance takes the cup from you, tapping on the bottle girl to ask for some soda on your behalf. 

“She’ll be back with some soda for you,” He says, resting his arm on the back of the seat and effectively behind your head. 

You’re about to say something, but Carlos steps over in front of the two of you. His hand goes to pat Lance’s shoulder, and it forces the Canadian driver to look up and away from you. His hand slips from behind you to give Carlos a proper handshake, the two boys exchanging words you had no energy to decipher. 

The alcohol and smell of Carlos’s cologne has your mind swirling. You sit up when you feel his gaze on you, and you let yourself stare at him. His brown eyes still read with aggression, and you already know what that means for you. But you didn’t want him to win, didn’t want the night to go the way it goes. You were mad at him, down right embarrassed because of him. The alcohol gives you some courage, just enough to stare him down and not cower away like you normally would.

“Hola hermosa,” He says, leaning down to press a firm kiss on your cheek as a greeting. “Te ves bien.” he compliments. You look good.

You smile, nodding, “Tú también.” You too.

He does. He looks godly in that stupid light blue button up and white pants. His hair is freshly cut, pushed back and away from his face. He looks so good and it makes you so angry. You want to punch him straight in the face, straight in his big fucking nose. 

“Lance and I were just about to dance,” You pipe up, earning a confused look from the both of them. You stand from your seat, hand finding Lance’s as you pull him with you, “Excuse me.” 

You don’t give either driver time to protest, leading Lance to the small crowd of people who were dancing by the DJ booth. You ignore the Spaniard’s gaze burning a hole in the back of your head, instead pulling Lance in the middle of a crowd of people who were too drunk to care that the boy in front of you was as stiff as a rod. 

“Relax,” You say, releasing his hand as you begin to sway your hips to the music, “Just feel the music, let it lead the way.” 

It takes a couple of seconds before Lance allows his body to move to the beat. But even then he’s just bouncing, shifting his weight from leg to leg as he tries to keep up with you. You don’t have to look back at the table to know that Carlos keeps a watchful eye. He makes sure that Lance doesn’t touch you, makes sure that he doesn’t take what’s his. He let you have your fun, and you know full well you’d pay for this in some form or another. But you’re having too much fun, giggling as you encourage Lance to move a little more. You take his hand and he spins you around, the two of you laughing at the cheesy move. 

It didn’t take long before Lance was really beginning to let loose, laughing with you as you both tried to get in sync and failed terribly. Six shots of liquor has your mind in a haze, and you can’t help but wonder if the alcohol made you like the way your hand felt in Lance’s or if the feeling was coming from a much more genuine place. You look over your shoulder, eyes locking with Carlos as he stares you down. And suddenly your stomach is doing back flips at the fire in his gaze. He was mad, you can see it. 

But you didn’t care, at least not right now.

The alcohol, however much Lance might’ve had, makes him bolder. He was normally so shy, so much more reserved. But even in a sea of people, sweaty and grinding to the music, he felt so comfortable with you. He pulls you closer to him, one arm slinging around your waist while the other hand stays intertwined with yours. Your bodies begin to move in sync, foreheads pressed against each other as you both savor the feeling of being pressed up against each other. 

Carlos was seething, watching the way you are wrapped up in Lance. His fingers grip the glass tightly, clenching his jaw as he uses everything in him not to cause a scene. No one noticed the way he watches you, like a tiger ready to pounce. He wanted to step in, but he let you have your fun. He’d get you back eventually. 

He knew you all too well, and Carlos knew you wouldn’t stray too far from him.

You both dance until your feet ache. Lance pushes through the crowd, fingers still linked as you follow behind him. When you join the group once again, everyone is in their own drunken world and not paying attention to you and Lance stumbling back. 

Except Carlos. 

Lance is pulled off by Alex, and now you’re standing alone. No one is looking at you, nor do they notice the way Carlos downs his drink before he stands and saunters over to you. He towers over you, fingers ghosting under your chin to keep your gaze on him. 

“¿Te divertiste?” Did you have fun?

You don’t answer. Your voice is caught in your throat and your body is frozen in his hold. There’s a ghost of a smirk on his lips as he quickly looks over to his right. You make the mistake of following his gaze, making eye contact with Lance who gives you a tight lipped smile before he walks away with Alex.

You should’ve ran after him, should’ve told Carlos to fuck off. But no amount of alcohol could make you so bold, nothing could ever let you stray far from something familiar. Even if familiarity would fuck you over anyhow.

Carlos dips his head, lips tickling your ear lightly, “Ready to go home?”

There is a sense of self-hatred that courses through your veins as you nod. Embarrassment coating your skin as you let Tes know you’d be leaving, and the knowing stares of her and Pierre as they bid adieu. Your skin burns as Carlos laces his fingers through yours as he drags you out of the busy nightclub. The last thing you feel is guilt, guilt as you shoot an apologetic smile Lance’s way, who watches you in Carlos’ tow from the bar. 

You sit quietly in the passenger seat of Carlos’ Ferrari, picking at skin around your nails. The air is thick, tense. 

It doesn’t change, even as he helps you out of the car when he parks in his spot. Breathing is still a challenge, even with his hand resting on the small of your back. The air remains heavy, even as you walk into his apartment and sit at the edge of his bed. You watch as Carlos moves around his room, taking off his watch and setting it on the nightstand. He hasn’t said a single thing to you since the club, and you were getting nervous. 

You shouldn’t have come.

He finally walks over to you, knees splitting your legs so he can stand between them. His index and thumb pinch your chin lightly, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes scan your face before it rakes over your body. Your chest rises and falls as you take deep breaths, the nerves beginning to take its toll on you. 

“Why are you so nervous Y/n?” 

“I’m not.” You lie. 

He chuckles, his hand leaving your chin and moving to weave themselves into your hair. “Your leg is bouncing, you’re picking at your skin again. What's on your mind?”

You shake your head, moving your hands under your legs to stop yourself from picking at the already raw area. Carlos hums above you, fingers massaging your scalp.

“I missed you,” He mumbles, “Did you miss me?” 

“No.” You lie again.

He smirks, hands gripping your hair lightly, “Mentirosa.” Liar.

You yank his hand from your hair, pushing him backwards lightly as you stand. “I don’t.” Your tone is defensive, as if it would hide the shake in your voice as you fein a kind of strength you know you don’t have.

Carlos watches as you walk over to your shoes, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home.” 

“No.”

“Yes.” 

“Y/n,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated at how stubborn you are, before looking back up at you, “It’s late. You’re drunk. Stay.” 

Carlos had grown accustomed to your submissive behavior, he didn’t know what to make of your sudden stubborn nature. He was getting worried that maybe you’ve grown out of him. 

“I’m not drunk,” You argue, “I don’t want to be here, if you’re just going to be mad at me.” 

He looks at you incredulously, “I’m not mad at you.” 

He’s lying, you know he is. You watch as he clenches his jaw, trying to keep his composure.

“So you’re not mad about Lance?”

He scoffs, “No. Why would I be?” 

You raise your brow, gaging his features as he stands across you. “You looked mad in the club.”

“I wasn’t,” He snaps, chuckling dryly. He’s still lying.

“You weren’t mad that I danced with him?” You test, “Not mad about his hands on me?”

Carlos rolls his eyes, “Not at all hermosa. Why would I be when you came home with me?” 

There’s something unsettling that sits in the air, it makes you uncomfortable. It makes you hate yourself more for being there in that moment. He was right, even after all the moments with Lance, you still chose to go home with Carlos. You chose to go home with the man who’d been ignoring you for the last three days, and it’s fucking laughable. You came home with the man who was off with some other girl while you sat at home waiting, wondering when he would call. 

You huff, turning back around and picking up your shoes. You hear Carlos sigh behind you, hear his footsteps as he comes over and spins you around. You refuse to look up at him, to look into his big brown eyes. You didn’t want to be convinced to stay.

“I shouldn’t have come, this was so fucking stupid of me.” 

“Don’t say that hermosa,” He coos, hand returning to cup your cheek. On any normal day, you would’ve let him. You would’ve melted straight into his touch. But the images of him and some girl appear in your head, and it’s enough to push his touch away.

You should’ve put your heels on. You should’ve booked your uber and got the hell out of there. There’s only one way this ends, with more arguing until he convinces you to stay. And you were determined to change it. 

“I saw the pictures of you and that girl,” You say bitterly, slipping on your shoes.

You see a flicker of emotion flash on Carlos’s face, but it goes as quickly as it comes and you aren’t sure what it could’ve been. Guilt? Fear? You would never know. Now he looks at you, arms crossed over his chest as he scoffs. 

“Those are old.” 

“You don’t even know what photos I’m talking about.” 

“It doesn’t matter Y/n, they’re old. I haven’t been with anyone, it’s only you.” 

He’s lying. You know he’s fucking lying. You mutter an un-fucking-believable under your breath as you gather your belongings and walk out of his room. 

Carlos is quick to react to you whipping past him, feet moving quickly and hand reaching out to pull you back before you can walk out. 

“Where are you going?” He asks, “It’s nearly two in the morning, just stay and I’ll drive you in the morning.”

“Where I’m going is none of your business. I’d rather walk in the cold than to spend another second here.” 

He scoffs, letting your arm go. “Are you gonna find Lance?” You don’t respond, typing away on your phone as you look for Tes’ number. Carlos yanks your phone from your hand, “He won’t do anything for you, Mr Vanilla. He won’t be able to please you, to fuck you the way I can you know.”

It’s your turn to laugh. You swipe your phone back, slipping it in your purse. “Well maybe I oughta find out for myself. Maybe I want a little vanilla.” 

His eyes go dark. In any other circumstance, you might’ve cowered away. You would’ve been apologizing, on your knees, begging for forgiveness in more ways than one. But instead you felt empowered, like you had the upper hand. And you never had the upper hand in this relationship.

“You wouldn’t be happy.” He counters.

“I’m not happy now!” You shriek, “This? This back and forth, the fighting, the uncalled for jealousy, none of it makes me happy!”

“Uncalled for jealousy?! I see you fucking Lance Stroll on the dance floor in front of all our friends and my jealousy is uncalled for?!”

“Carlos, we’re not fucking dating!” You screech, throat raw and face hot “You’ve always made that perfectly fucking clear. I’m not your girlfriend and you’re not my boyfriend. So yes, uncalled for is the phrase I’d use.”

“Then your jealousy is uncalled for too. We’re not dating, as you said, so why does it matter if I was with another girl?”

“Because I was never with another guy Carlos! Because when I said it’s only you, I meant that it’s only you!” 

“Then what was that with Lance then?!” Carlos grimaces.

“What about it Carlos?!”

Both your chests were heaving, both of you angry at the other. The room stinks of unresolved tension, reeks of lies. The lack of clarity between the two of you, of what the two of you were, is finally culminating. You can hear Tes in the back of your head, her warnings of your situationship blowing up in your face. 

You were frustrated, both with yourself and with Carlos. You look at him and all you see is red.  

“You don’t like his hands on me? Does it bother you that I let him touch me, hold me. Does the idea that maybe I liked it just a little bit, make you fucking sick?” There’s a sinister smile on your face, knowing damn well what buttons you were pushing. “How do you think I feel?”

“I wasn’t with that girl y/n!”

“You were wearing the scarf I got you for Christmas in the photo, bastardo.” You snap. “I’m not fucking stupid.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re fucking delusional.” Carlos begins to walk away from you. This time, you grab his arm and yank him back. 

“I’m not fucking delusional. I know what I saw.” You seeth, “So you don’t get to be mad at me. You don’t get to call me delusional or make me feel crazy. You don’t get to make me feel guilty about having fun with a guy who was nice to me, while you were off playing in a Hallmark movie with some girl.” 

The reality of your situation hits you like a truck. There isn’t a drop of remorse on his face, not a hint of sorrow for his actions. It shatters your heart into little tiny pieces, breaks it until it is irreparable. Tears begin to cloud your vision, and you do everything you can not to let them fall in front of him. But you fail to do so. 

“God I am always at your beck and call, always willing and able for you even if you won’t do it for me. I sat around and waited for you for three days, come to find out you were fucking around with some girl.” You laugh humorlessly, taking a step back as you swipe your hand over your cheek to wipe away the tracks of wetness on your skin. “And yet I’m here with you. I still chose to come home with you.”

He doesn’t say anything. No explanation, nothing to prove those pictures meant nothing. Instead he stands there, frozen in place and face expressionless. 

“Y/n-”

“What are we doing here Carlos? Really, what do you want out of this? Because I want more, but it doesn’t seem like you do too.” You sniffle, looking away from him. “I don’t know why I’m fighting so hard for a place in your life, I don’t know why I’m still here.” 

And this is when you crumble into your own sadness. This is the part of the cycle that you allow yourself to be weak before him after he’s taken yet another piece of you. This is the part that hurts the most. 

“I’m sorry I…” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Listen… it's late, we’ve had a little too much to drink. Just stay tonight. Then in the morning, we’ll talk. We can talk about a relationship, about whatever you want. Just please stay tonight.” 

Empty promises, one that you’ll add to a list of ones he’s given before. You were so tired, so defeated, and you know that spending the night never ends well. You know that in the morning he’ll make you believe that everything is okay between the two of you, make you believe that he wants more.

“I don’t think it’s smart that I do,” You manage to say, tears still falling from your face. 

“Maybe… but when have we ever been known to be smart?” 

You should’ve changed the ending. You could’ve changed the ending. You would’ve changed the ending.

But then he holds your face, swipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb. He presses a soft kiss on your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck and suddenly all logic flies out the window. You melt into his gentle touch, allowing him to hold you and press gentle kisses on your skin. You feel him kiss along your neck and down to your shoulder, leaving a trail of misery you’d have to deal with in the morning.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Carlos mumbles against your skin, “I don’t like to see you cry.”

You lean into his touch. “You make me this way.” 

“No es mi intención. Lo siento bebe.” I don't mean to. I'm sorry baby.

His voice is soft, gentle. It’s reminiscent of the Carlos you met once upon a time.

“Stay tonight, okay?” He whispers, lips hot as he presses it gently against your skin. 

“Okay,” You sigh, “I’ll stay.” 

Carlos looks at you, a soft smile on his face. He leans in to give you a quick kiss, before moving behind you to grab a shirt from his dresser. You pull the dress off your body, taking the green long sleeve from Carlos to slip on. He undresses quickly, leaving him in black briefs before he’s climbing into bed and opening up the covers for you to join him. 

He pulls you to him when you lie down, hands resting comfortably on the curve of your ass when you sling your leg over his waist. You nuzzle into him, inhaling deeply as you let his scent drown out the voice in your head cursing you out. 

Maybe you do deserve more. More than the hot and cold, the crying yourself to sleep, the need to reassure yourself by going through his phone when he’s fast asleep next to you. Maybe you do. 

But foolishly, you choose to stay. You let the five minutes of his goodness overshadow all the heartache. You let his embrace give you a false sense of security, let it convince you that everything is okay. 

You aren’t ready to let go. Not yet anyways. 

note: well. i've wanted to write toxic!carlos for a while, so here we are. and you can all thank the ferrari antis (specifically q) for lance being here. anyways, hope u liked (?) it. and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

ferrari antis: @bigdiccricc @kodzubear @micks-afterglow @meteor-lights @coffeehurricanes

taglist: @molliemoo3 @revengze @idkiwantchocolatee @charles-dimple @claramllera @ellethewitchbitch @sh4wtybrave @ifancycharlesleclerc @damnyoulife @earfquak3 @sidcrosbyspuck @kissatelier @bisexual-desi @alwaysclassyeagle @buendiabebeta @allforkook @ironmaiden1313 @sachaa-ff @moonyinterlude @ohthemisssery @home-of-disaster @interann @pint-size-k @hopiiex @verstfosi @ccloaned @dr3lover @skye44sposts @the-scarletbitch @sava207 @speedysimp @sainzfilm @eas-8 @crookedcreationstudent @thewintersunset @smiley-roos @hellomumitsme @tamakofever @onlyonetifosi @f1medlife @breakmyheartathousand @paty2110juarez @rose-tinted-juls @riccdannyf1 @hellyrjl @folklor3 @logischeroktopus @barzysreputation @cosmicleclerc @lightsoutharlow @elisaa-shelby

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#carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz jr x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz jr one shot #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz jr smut #formula 1 #f1 #f1 one shot #f1 smut #lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll imagine

[dailykallura]

I'd like to expand on my nice little tiny cute thought about how Keith exists on the fringes of both of Allura's relationships and how he technically is instrumental to both of her relationships being started with Lotor and Lance and how that too, is kallura meta.

--

The events that take place between 4.07 and 6.01 kickstart the relationship between Allura and Lotor (in my opinion), since that is when and where they are both face to face, with explicit knowledge of what each other looks like and what they can do for each other. 

My idea is that Keith is instrumental to starting this relationship, primarily because in 5.04, during the Kral Zera, Lotor is at a risk of being gravely injured by the bombs placed all over the Temple, and Keith takes a shot and successfully rescues Lotor from the blast, further allowing him to take up the mantle as the new Galran Emperor. 

It’s this change in leadership that changes Lotor and Allura’s relationship from the vague “when I take control of the Empire” to the realistic development they had as diplomatic partners and then as romantic partners. 

Keith remains on the fringes of the relationship however, and has some measure of conflict with Lotor because of what he finds out about the hidden Alteans, and he is shown to be both the catalyst for its breakdown (by bringing back Romelle) --

-- and also acknowledge the possibility of salvaging the relationship Allura may have had with Lotor (by being the one to suggest them rescuing Lotor from the quintessence field).

I’ve joked about this so much in 2020, but regarding Lance in s8, Keith is instrumental to this relationship being started because of Lance’s insecurities re: Keith and Allura’s relationship: Lance doesn’t choose to make a solid move to Allura until he finds out that it’s popular opinion that Keith and Allura have a relationship (based on the cartoon, yes) - 

and unbeknownst to Keith, also still harbours insecurities that he’s unworthy to be with Allura. 

It’s Keith’s very kind reassurance that Allura is interested in him, and that Lance does have something to offer to any relationship he’s in that gives him the confidence to go through with the date - 

and with the offer of a relationship with Allura. 

Keith still exists on the fringes, however, as s8 (consistently) props Keith up as Allura’s support - 

and as such, he is shown to be the one that Lance speaks with regarding how he feels about Allura and her decisions\their relationship.

Kallura meta comes out of this primarily because it’s something to note that Keith and Allura are written to be similar in a multitude of things and also be written as not having a relationship past detached friends with some measure of tension - but also have Keith be central to Allura’s relationships like this.

TL;DR: Keith saved Lotor at the Kral Zera and Lotor became Emperor, leading to Allura and Lotor’s relationship; and Keith told Lance to go for Allura, leading to Allura and Lance’s relationship, and it’s because Keith is written as putting priority to what might make Allura happy.

#kallura #juniblade #keith x allura #allura x keith #dk.rtf #i know i said I was inactive (I still am) but I thought this was cohesive enough to publish #long post #i hope the fandom has been having fun :)

[cometrose]

i watched season 1 and caught up with season 2 of mashle in like a day and a half

blame bling bang bang born, that opening is so fucking catchy that i guilt-tripped myself into watching the anime because it didn't feel fair to stream without at least watching the first ep

i don't regret it this anime is like really fun im surprised

the casual eugenics??? everyone without magic is unworthy and deserves to die because it is unnatural and goes against the blessings of god?

you would think since lack of magic keeps finding its way into the gene pool and subsequent offspring these people would do more soul searching and question it!

I also think its really interesting how everyone suffers in the eugenics society, it is not just having magic, you have to have good magic otherwise you are just as worthless as the nonmages. You may hold yourself to a higher standard and think yourself superior but you are essentially still trash. Having magic isn't enough you have to be perfect all the time. Everyone suffers even the talented mages cause the slightest imperfection means you are lesser than dirt. You can't tell me this world is happy and blissful when anyone slightly out of the ordinary lives in fear of someone coming to strangle them in the night.

the story also acknowledges this there are tons of people who think they are superior to mash because they have magic even when they themselves are incredibly weak. like shoutout for commentary on racism and racial supremacy on how the weakest of people will act prideful and egotistical at the chance to walk over others.

i love mash, he's cute, i find his empty-headedness endearing i thought i would grow tired of his gimmick but I am pleasantly entertained. he's the realest guy ever

I ADORE LEMON SHE IS SO GOOD SHE IS SO PERFECT i love girls with a loose screw SHE IS SOOOOO GOOOD I LOVE YOU

finn has to be the straight man in a comedy anime and i mourn for him but he's cute as well

i forgive lance, i know i shouldn't but he's also kind of funny i'll ignore his siscon nature for my sake and his as well

dot surprised me like i was really expecting a crazy hot-headed incel weirdo but he's very respectful towards woman and for that you I rock with you! I also like how he plays the straight man role with finn like out of the boys in terms of self-awareness it goes mash > lance > dot > finn and thats neat

does mash have two dads...did that cop turn into his second father...

this is just ha*** po**** but that's okay im not mad

the magia lupus? yeah i cringed every time they came on screen I can't handle that blood purity speech at my age. I always remember reigen's (mp100) speech at the end of season 1. you're not special cause you have magic you're human just like everyone else here! GROW UP

speaking of them, they're kind of neat at least love, abyss and abel. they're cute im a sucker for rivals turned friends

rayne...i might have feelings for you

i was scared rayne was gonna be a dick when he appeared but he happily surprised me he is so sweet to mash thats great i love that and he's super cool and strong i respect that. I hope i see some brother moments with him and finn soon!!!

everyone has a specialty magic like is that innate? do they learn anything else or is their breed of magic just determined by their bloodline

i haven't even acknowledged cream puffs...thats okay too

i love how the main cast of friends is like "thank god im the only normal person here"

pretty good comedic timing i appreciate a healthy balance of humor and drama

i love how the cast moves to the beat of their own drum and i love teenagers rebelling against society! change da world my final message!

#mashle #A BUNCH OF WEIRDO KIDS #do we count the headmaster as mash's 3rd father figure does he count

[steamberrystudio]

Real quick scenario-related question.. How would the Gilded Shadows LIs react to the MC writing and singing/playing them a song written just for them? [Also, Howdy from America- It's 11:51pm as I'm writing this- (I've played all but Lance and Quill's routes, loved all the routes I've played. Not sure which to do next, I was debating it in my head and somehow this ended up making it's way in there-)]

Ari - is not quite capable of telling if it's a good/bad song (he has no artistic sense, really) but he would appreciate the sentiment. It might make him feel a little awkward though - he doesn't know how to handle 'grand' gestures like this.

Caissa - would be completely charmed by it. If he wasn't already in love, this would do it. He wouldn't want anyone else to hear the song - ever. He'd want it to belong just to him. And he'd definitely do something in return. Something big to show how much it meant to him.

Caleb - would find it sweet. Probably wouldn't be as emotionally into it as Caissa but would still find it sweet and a nice gesture. He likes music a lot. But honestly, destroying him in a game of volitant would probably make more impact. 🤣

Jack - similarly to Caissa, I feel like he'd just be completely taken by this. He'd find it adorable but also just be really touched that someone felt strongly enough about him to write a song. It's a good way to make him melt into a gooey puddle of "I will do whatever you ask of me". LoL

Lance - He's the sort that would request to hear it multiple times. And just try to carry the memory of MC singing/playing for him in his heart forever. He'd think about it late at night or in the middle of tending his green house for literal *years*. And a soft smile would wash over him every single time.

Magnus - Outwardly he'd gush and hug them and make a fuss over it. Inwardly he'd be touched but also feel completely unworthy of that kind of that kind of gesture. I feel like it would have a strange effect on him. He'd be happy but also a little bitter.

Quill - I don't think he'd have much outward reaction besides a smile and a kiss. But it would mean a lot to him. It's the sort of thing that would bring a smile to his face frequently for weeks after and he'd be extra affectionate for a long time. And maybe request to hear it again a few times. Or get a recording of it.

Reuben - his brain would just shut down. I don't think he's capable of comprehending someone writing a song for him. Reuben.exe has stopped working. He might need MC to jump start him with a kiss or something afterwards.

Yuu - He'd be delighted and would definitely request a recording of it. He might paint something for MC in return though he doesn't consider himself a very good artist. Still, it's something he can make with his own hands so I imagine he'd feel it was an appropriate response.

#gilded shadows #LI #mc #music #song #asks

[fratricideknight]

headcannons about sir lancelot (the best knight)?

also, what is your favorite lancelot moment from s4/s5 (bc the darkest hour pt. 2 didn't happen obviously)

i thought you'd never ask

headcanons about sir lancelot

uhhh quite sad but: i think he's depressed and has a lot of unresolved trauma. there's literally a motif in the soundtrack called 'Lancelot Leaves' - he never stays, even when he finds something good and has people who will fight for him. it probably has something to do with the way his entire village was destroyed and his family killed when he was young. he doesn't want to become too attached in case everything is taken away from him again, but he wears his heart on his sleeve and is incapable of repressing completely and shutting himself off from others, so fleeing is the only defence he has. knowing him, there's probably also a sense of survivor's guilt which has morphed into "it's my fault that they died; i couldn't protect them." the guy dedicated "every waking moment since that day" to the art of combat, which is of course a healthy response. he dreamed solely of becoming a knight of camelot and yet even when arthur was fighting for him to stay, he left. because he lied, he felt unworthy of the knighthood, but i also think he's scared of having a home in case he loses it again, and perhaps feels that tragedy follows him. maybe he'd rather be miserable fighting others for the entertainment of bloodthirsty assholes than achieving his dream, because it validates the misery which lingers inside of him. it's emotional self-harm, basically. speaking of which: i think he, honestly, wants to find a way to die honourably. that is the perfect way out for him: he doesn't have to cope anymore, but he's not just giving up. i mean, the guy does borderline suicidal shit every episode he features in.

1x05: charging solo at a creature which took out an entire group of knights and is said to only be killable through magical means.

2x04: sacrificing himself so gwen can escape, knowing that he will be caught eventually and put to death by a bloodthirsty crowd.

3x13: going into a castle occupied by immortal soldiers, unaware that merlin has a means to kill them.

4x01: setting out on a mission against another unkillable foe (the dorocha).

4x02: actually sacrificing himself to the callieach.

to be fair, all the knights risk their lives constantly; it's in the job description. but it still feels particularly pronounced with him. this theory is contradicted by the line from 4x02, "I look at you and I wonder about myself. Would I knowingly give up my life for something?" but tbh i still feel that lancelot was always going to die, as much as i hate to say it. staying alive is ooc for him.

also, what is your favorite lancelot moment from s4/s5 (bc the darkest hour pt. 2 didn't happen obviously)

definitely when he said "it's lancin' time" and lanced all over and killed kilgharrah and deprogrammed merlin so he was a normal person again and convinced him to give mordred a chance and everything turned out fine.

okay, being serious: literally every single lancelot moment has a special place in my heart. the scene where merlin collapses and lance immediately runs to help him is SO adorable and so in character i LOVE it. his sheer wonderment when the vilia show themselves; he's such a sweetheart. he really just takes everything in stride and truly accepts magic unconditionally. also the moment where gwaine takes a bite out of an apple while the knights are sneaking around and lancelot shakes his head in exasperation. gwaincelot crumbs!! i have my head tipped back ninety degrees to retrieve them from the very base of the metaphorical crisp packet. he's just too damn sweet. i love him so much ;-;

i absolutely despise 4x09 but he's soooo sexy in that episode. when he rises from the fucking lake naked and dripping with water??? i didn't react in any way i really didn't

#thanks for asking!! i love talking about him if you can't tell #you're right btw he is the best knight. the best character actually #sir lancelot #bbcm headcanon #bbcm takes #bbcm meta #bbc merlin #askbox #mine #tw suicide #tw self harm

[kaiwrites-if]

21 and/or 49?

21. ROs reactions to MC telling them that they don’t believe they [the MC] could ever be loved?

Arthur would be incredulous.

“Do not say such foolish things, I love you with everything that I am capable of. Do not ever try and diminish that.”

Morgana would be annoyed.

“If you cannot see how loved you are, then you truly must be blind or stupid. I have never loved anyone the way that I love you.”

Lance would be concerned.

“What in Avalon gave you that idea? I know you have had to make difficult choices and not all of them were the right ones, but that does not make you unworthy of love. If anything, for your courage and your loyalty and your sacrifices, it makes you more so.”

Gwen would be understanding.

“I understand how you feel as I often feel that way as well, but I want you to know…no, I need you to know that I love you so much and so does Gaius and Arthur and Lance and even Morgana…although not in the same way that I do! I mean– I do not think they do anyway.”

49. Would the ROs impulsively adopt a stray animal?

Arthur would impulsively adopt all the stray animals if given the chance.

Morgana would claim that she wouldn’t, but she totally would.

Lance wouldn’t unless the animal seemed unwell, in which case he would nurse it back to health and then get attached.

Gwen might, but she’s so busy that it wouldn’t really be fair of her to impulsively take on an animal.

#ask #anon #ro ask #c: arthur #c: lancelot #c: morgana #c: guinevere

[postguiltypleasures]

My Peak TV Journey *The Other Two*

While it was on, few shows were as deliriously funny as The Other Two. It was a slow burn of a showbiz satire mixed with family sitcom. I miss it already. But I have to acknowledge that right before the final episode The Hollywood Reporter broke a story on complaints to HR about series creators Chris Kelly and Sarah Schneider. HR investigated and dismissed the claims. Most likely this just means they did not reach their extremely high standard of what would make it a hostile work environment. It doesn’t mean the events did not happen. I’ve seen some posts since then about how this is a sign that Kelly and Schneider are the real life Carey and Brooke Dubek. There is some truth to this. I don’t know how to process how it affects my feelings about the show. And the news brought out a lot of feelings. 

While watching the first two seasons, I noticed that the seasons started out more sad than funny then became zanier and funnier in a way that is really grounded in that sad base. The final season went in the opposite direction, starting in screwball, manic comedy and then slowly getting into the dark, sad base. It was pretty dark. The season showed worst of Carey and Brooke, and it was necessary. I loved it, it hurt. 

Brooke’s plot about wanting to switch careers to something that would “do good” was painfully relatable. It was particularly sharp about how people get lazy in their responsibilities when they have the assurance that the project they are working on will “do good.” Of course this was spurred on by Brooke’s combined jealousy of her fiancé, Lance and feeling unworthy of him. And while watching her do a variety of awful things to prove either that she really is good, and/or that he’s not as good as he seems, I often thought that she didn’t deserve him. I admire how much her portrayer, Heléne York, was willing to go for something that ugly. In the end, I cheered their reconciliation because I love their dynamic at their best, not that I think they’re good together. And while they were broken up she dated a couples of billionaires and it was a great encapsulation of why hating billionaires is so fun and necessary now. 

In the first two seasons Cary spent so much energy on his career and sexual frustrations, but this season proved that finally getting some success isn’t going to make him better. This was embodied by his new boyfriend Lucas Lamber Moy, an actor who was always in character and for that reason was frequently unable to have sex. Lucas’s roles in everything from a Love, Simon spin-off, to a Hallmark Christmas movie and an incomprehensible and interminable Broadway play that is apparently about AIDS. Lucas alternately frustrated and excited Carey. It leads to revelation about even professional success isn’t going fix what broke in Carey. He over invests in Lucas, a person he can’t really know, while destroying his relationship with his best friend Curtis Paltrow. (I was surprised that there was so much Curtis in this season as his actor, Brandon Scott Jones, is one of the regulars on CBS’s Ghosts. I assumed he’d be available less because of that commitment. As a side note, I did enjoy when Carey’s actor, Drew Tarver, guest stared on Ghosts as a local cult leader.) In the mean time his plot gets the best satire of the show business. His advancing career includes his voice role as Globby, the “gay icon” in a Disney franchise and his reoccurring role in a CBS procedural, Emily Overruled. The latter plot, while funny, made the later allegations against the creators unsurprising to me. It set up something of a false dichotomy, where you can either have a stable, 9-5 set, making a show now one really watched, or making something exciting, that people will really care about, but must make allowances for people behaving in more erratic fashions. Arguably, the end of Lucas’s story tempers this thesis, but not enough. It was a wild ride that at some point involved a chorus of gay men in diapers driving maniacally to get to high school reunions while singing a variation of “When Johnny Comes Marching Home”. I laughed a lot. 

Brooke and Carey reaching their lows was also rough on their mother Pat, who was experiencing isolation on multiple fronts. It was poignant and often absurd. Pat’s portrayers Molly Shannon a treasure. Pat may not actually be as good a mother as she wants to be seen as. She put Chase in an exploitative situation. She’s bad with boundaries. But her surreal experience of fame, and inability to return to her previous life was a great journey. I’m kind of sad she and Streeter didn’t end up together. I find Ken Marino weirdly endearing, and they were cute together. But she did need better boundaries between her work and personal lives. 

The youngest Dubek, Chase, aka ChaseDreams played by Case Walker without any guile, was not in much of the final season. But he was always a peripheral character for a story his viral success kicked off. The first season included some great ridiculous songs and ended with the revelation that he could not really sing. Since then much of his plot has been about his management (including his sister Brooke) gets him non singing jobs while avoiding telling him why he couldn’t sing. There was some humor in this, but as a lover of comedy songs, I wish there were more ChaseDreams songs. (I’d even take more in universe songs not by ChaseDreams like the “Jesus Fucking Slays” one from season two.) Chase has generally been less of a character than a vehicle for jokes about talent management and Hollywood’s current direction. (Or really, their pre-strike direction.) Over the course of the season Chase became more aware of the reality of his situation, but he never really rebelled against it. How could he? All his possible rebellions have been pre-scripted by management.

As ChaseDreams main director, Shuli, played by Wanda Sykes, often did bad, but she always had a point and did it competently. She considered Chase’s music so bad that she created Q. QAnon is awful in the real world, but the idea that QAnon started to distract from a bad album is hilarious. But Shuli’s bigger impact is as Brooke’s reluctant mentor, showing her the ropes and not having time for her bull. She didn’t have much of an arc, but she was always fun to watch.

While wrapping up I just need to say that this show was beautifully shot and staged. In scenes like Carey and Lucas’s first date at an indoor pool and Chase falling in love at first sight in a way that parodied the Baz Lerhman film William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet, part of me was just bowled over by how good looking it was. The series ended in a way that was appropriate for its characters, and I wouldn’t want what I heard of the behind the scenes situation to continue, but I’m going to miss it. 

#My Peak TV Journey #Peak TV #The Other Two #brooke dubek #Heléne York #Cary Dubek #drew tarver #Brandon Scott Jones #Curtis Paltrow #lance arroyo #Pat Dubek #molly shannon #Chris Kelly #Sarah Schneider #Lucas Lambert Moy #Chase Dubek #ChaseDreams #Case Walker #Wanda Sykes #Shuli Kucerac

[serickswrites]

Anniversary IX

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warnings: pet whump, referenced noncon, captivity, restraints, referenced caning, bruises, caretaker and whumpee

The last few days were all a blur for the Pet. The Master had caned them several more times. Caned and touched them. Sometimes at the same time. Sometimes the Master would touch them after the caning, sometimes before. All the Pet knew was things had gotten exponentially worse. 

This morning was no different. Their bruised and sore body protested at each movement, so they stayed curled in a ball, wrists held aloft by the chain. The door banged open. “Get up,” the Master ordered tersely. 

The Pet hurried to stand, crying out as pain lanced through their body. “Yes, Master?”

The Master ripped the diamond collar off the Pet’s neck. “You don’t deserve to wear this any longer,” they sneered as the collar dropped to the ground. 

The Pet bowed their head, tears filling their eyes. This was even worse. “Yes, Master. I am unworthy, Master.”

The Master tightened a leather strap around the Pet’s neck. “This is about all you deserve. I hope your new master likes used pets.”

New master? “What? Master?”

“Move. Your new master awaits.” The Master unhooked the Pet’s wrists and attached a leash to the leather collar. “I said move!”

The Pet stumbled forward as the Master dragged them along. Lover was waiting in the foyer with a stranger. “Ah, Caretaker, sorry to keep you waiting.”

Caretaker watched the Master with horror filled eyes as they dragged Whumpee along. “This won’t be necessary,” the gestured at the leash. 

“This pet has a habit of running away. You best keep them collared and chained down.” The Master handed the leather leash to Caretaker. 

The Pet hadn’t looked up. They were sobbing quietly. The Master had sold them! Sold them to a new master. Someone who was probably crueler. Someone who would hurt them more. “Master, please,” they begged. They were sorry they had tried to run away. They couldn’t help it. 

“I’m not your master anymore,” the Master said cruelly. “Caretaker get your pet out of here before I do something you’ll regret.”

Lover ushered Caretaker and the Pet out. “You know how they get. Always had a temper.”

Caretaker frowned as the Pet cowered at their feet. “Yes, temper.” 

Caretaker walked slowly and carefully to their car, making sure not to pull on the Pet. “I didn’t realize they would hurt you so much. I’m so sorry,” they murmured as they helped the Pet into the car. 

The Pet watched with terror gripping their heart. They were sure this was some cruel joke. No one had been kind to them in a long time. No one had cared for them. Surely this was a trick. “I’m sorry, master,” they managed to squeak out. 

Caretaker frowned again as they got behind the wheel of the car. “My name isn’t master. My name is Caretaker. And you,” they unfastened the collar around  the Pet’s neck, “don’t need this any more.”

The Pet began to sob with relief at the feeling of freedom around their neck. It had been so long. “Ma-I mean Caretaker?”

“Yes, oh, gosh, I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name,” Caretaker said apologetically. “But I’m getting you to safety and freedom. Ok?”

The Pet sobbed harder. This couldn’t be real. But if it was a dream, they didn’t want to wake up. “My name...my name was Whumpee.”

Caretaker gave a soft smile. “Whumpee. What a lovely name. It’s nice to meet you, Whumpee.” 

The Pet Whumpee smiled through their tears. Perhaps this wasn’t a dream. Perhaps they were truly free. 

Tags: @freefallingup13 @endlesscyclezz @zoewhumps  @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees 

#serickswrites #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw pet whump #tw referenced noncon #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw referenced caning #tw bruises #caretaker and whumpee #queue

[archangelo--fr]

(Some lore I wrote awhile ago for Ling and Mercy. Posting it here to not lose it since replacing the dragon(s). General advisory for reading it as with all my lore.)

The sound of talons clinking against polished gemstone echo through the church halls. Behind stained glass, the moons hang high, but barely illuminate the walls. Through muscle memory alone, Mercy navigates the winding halls and arching doorways. Candles that have burned for eons cast his sullen shadow when he walks past, as if he were a ghost.

One more turn leads him up a staircase that feels endless for the unworthy. And he begins to fear - is it too late? With every step he takes, he feels his legs wish to give out underneath him. If he were to fall now, then by daylight, he would never be seen again. The spirits of the halls would drag him under, away from the room just beyond.

He tries to use his wings to push him forward, but they soon give out as well. Maybe, maybe Scorn was right. Was he not welcome, not even to say goodbye to Mother? The Creator? Even with the lance in claw, would the church rather lose an artifact, than see one charged with guilt?

Before his thoughts could mingle any longer, he heard the doors creak open before him, high above, on the end of the staircase. Light filtered down the stairs, and eventually hit his glossy form. It refracted everywhere, causing Mercy to curl in on himself, and hide underneath his mantle even more. He didn't deserve this light anymore, it shouldn't ever shine on him again. It's why he was leaving by dayfall, it's why Scorn fled from him even when wounded.

Through his hood, he could feel the eyes on him again. It was Ling, no one else under that roof would ever give Mercy such a warm gaze. He stood there, for what felt like an eternity. A gaze flowing down a sullen, fools gold of Mercy.

At once, he spoke, no louder than the crackle of embers, "Mercy, I was told you left. Did the Council change their mind?"

His words hurt, hurt almost as much as receiving the declaration of guilt had. But Mercy still raised his head, and forced a reply through his liar's teeth, "No, Ling, I'm sorry. Once the Council has decided, they shall not ever take back their order. I am guilty. It was wrong for me to attempt to enter this place."

Ling stared from above the steps again, a habit he's kept since he first arrived as a hatchling. A child of light, who only rested his eyes to fall into the Unknown. His eyes were never filled with things like Mercy's were.

Not once, has he ever cried. Not once, has he raised his teeth and claw, not even to the guilty of the world. "Ling could never be a Knight or a Mage", they would say. "Even when met with a postule-riddled crow, he conversed with it instead of felling it."

Being brought back from the past, Mercy realized Ling was taking his form into his arms, with his wings being used for support of the much larger Wildclaw. Weighed down with guilt.

"Ling! What are you doing?" Mercy couldn't help the slight shake in his voice, watching Ling hoist him up the stairs, and set him down at the entrance of the chamber. "Helping you. I don't know what happened in the Council. I was in training that hour. They said, you were to leave my dayfall." Ling said, and turned his unblinking gaze up. Up, and through th e glass skylight above. It was just past midnight. "You may not be apart of us anymore, but you still serve the Creator. If you want to speak to her before you go, then you should." "But, Ling, I'm-", Cursed, guilty, infected. Nothing Mercy could ever stomach to tell Ling. "...I am not in good healthy anymore. They, they will know you touched me. That you have my scales on yours. What if they banish you too?" Ling kept his gaze on the moons, for a long time. Long enough for the feeling to return to Mercy's wings and legs. When Mercy was about to speak again, Ling exhaled a plume of smoke that dissipated almost immediately around his horns. He stared back at Mercy. "Then it's okay. They can take me away again. I never belonged here. But, you did. You lived under these crystals, and over this soil. I'll be gone eventually without regret, but you will live forever with it. Go speak to her, even if you are infected with what you fought, its only skin-deep. It will never touch your mind or spirit." "...Thank you, Ling."

#flight rising #flightrising #fr #fr lore #lore #..Ling #..Mercy #idk how to tag

[cheemken]

Goddd that WIP has me thinking about the other champions, Cynthia, Steven, Iris, and Hau, stepping in with their ace Pokémon to try and stop Diantha and Yvelta from killing Leon

But then Lance and Geeta step in with their strongest Pokémon to protect their “queen”. I wouldn’t even be surprised if Lance fights the other champions himself

Just imagine the chaos, the 8 strongest trainers in the world fighting each other to stop Diantha from “perfecting” the world of another person she deems unworthy

I do feel like the battle would be tilting towards Diantha, Lance, and Geeta considering they do have the Pokémon of death on their side

GOD Y E S BCMDNFMDN

Omf but Kingambit's ability tho, Geeta just purposely making five of her pokemon faint so her Kingambit would hit even harder hckxnxmd

But also cjdmnd not only do they have Yveltal on their side, but Diantha knows just how to break the champions one by one, she could just look at Cynthia and smile at her all "oh, Cynthia, you'd really hurt me the same way you got my poor defenseless brother hurt all those years ago?"

And Cynthia drops her Mega Stone, looking wide eyed at her, "h.. how did you—"

"you wound me, Cynthia. Do you honestly think my dearest Augustine could keep anything from me?"

"I.. I didn't..."

"Cynthia... Weren't you the reason your friend died?"

And the other champions are trying to snap Cynthia out of it, to not listen to Diantha, but the guilt start to eat her alive that she lost focus on the battle, and one of Lance's pokemon managed to hit her w their attack

Just cjmdncmdnd ough Diantha just going on abt each of the champions' weakness and breaking them from the inside, making them unable to think clearly even for a bit, just enough to knock all their pkmn out and just cjxmnxkd

#god your honour pls cjmdbfnd #diantha's so unhinged she'd literally tell leon he doesnt deserve to be champion #and hes only a champ bc of rose but if it werent for that bitch too leon would be nothinh #nothing* #a nobody like his poor younger brother treated horribly by everyone after he lost #just cjmdbfmd👌 #pokemon #champion diantha #an ask and an answer #jerseyk112 #villain diantha au

[i-spy-with-my-lethal-eye]

Bloody Lance Criminal files.

Name: Sophia Nomarula

Role: Leader

Birthday: June 15th

Age: 23

Height: 5′1 ft.

Likes: Nice strolls through the park. Violin Music. The fading life in his prey’s eyes.

Dislikes: Being denied his fun. And Cows.....for some reason.

Personality: On the surface, he appears to be a kind and friendly person who enjoys making friends and getting along with others. However, that is but an act he puts on, as his true self is a blood thirsty sadist who’ll do anything to get his fill. He’s not above torture those of all ages, old and young, and will do whatever he desires to make his ‘games’ fun. He does exclude his gang members in his games, and oddly enough truly cares for his gang. The reasons why are currently unknown.

History: Currently info on Sophia can be obtained from the Team Danganronpa website. He was once the Ultimate Gentleman, due to his kind and friendly demeanor. He grew up as a wealthy prince in India, and began his travels to expand his horizons. However, this was but a cover story he created for himself as members of his gang helped him create such a backstory. In reality, he’s nothing but a sadist, who tried to hijack his season’s killing game for personal enjoyment. However, he was brought down, not just by the survivors of the game, but also Monokuma, who was bitter that Sophia dared to ruin the game he ran. Sophia escaped from captivity by Team Danganronpa and has resurfaced during the incident on the Seven Seas Explorer. His current whereabouts are Unknown.

Name: Akibimi Agana

Role: Witch

Birthday: January 13

Age: Unknown. Appears 16, but might be 20.

Height: 5′1 ft

Likes: Necromancy. Ghosts. And Silence.

Dislikes: Loudness.

Personality: A soft spoken character who spends much of her time meditating and minding her own business. She holds a near nihilistic view on life as a whole, where only the use of her dark arts along with the deaths of those she deems unworthy of living. She tends to grow aggressive when annoyed alot. She is capable of being friendly, but only on her own terms, which are rare. Best thing to do is to let her express her passions of the dark arts.

History: Unknown

Name: Vivinenne

Role: Guard

Birthday: October 1

Age: Unknown. Appears to be 30.

Height: 6′7 ft

Likes: Louisa. Fashion. Dark chocolate. Regal. And ruby lipstick.

Dislikes: Discussing her eyes and scar.

Personality: A firm protector of Louisa and possible lover, though still unclear. He’s fairly talkative when bored and enjoys the finer things in life. She acts flirtatiously at times, mostly towards Louisa and does seem friendly. Though it’s possible it’s an act, but without looking at her eyes, it’s impossible to say fro sure.

History: Been a close friend of Louisa since they were kids. That much is the only info anyone has to go off right now.

Name: Bastion

Role: Field Agent

Birthday: March 22

Age: 19

Height: 5′5 ft

Likes: Lili and Bibi. The feeling of the wind.

Dislikes: Being nagged at.

Personality: A laid back individual who seems more keen on just relaxing than anything else. He often makes time for his little siblings, Lili and Bibi, twins who are skilled toy makers. He speaks of being an explorer often, wishing he could see the world more and far beyond. He hasn’t lost one of his eyes. He says he just wears the eyepatch to look good. And yet, his carefree atittude makes him one of the scarier members of Bloody Lance due to how chill he is. He doesn’t act like he takes pride in his kills, but doesn’t despise it either. He says ‘He’ll do whatever bores him less.’

History: Unknown.

Name: Minpha

Role: Assassin

Birthday: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Height: 5′9 ft

Likes: Unknown

Dislikes: Unknown

Personality: A cruel, yet calm and collected expression lies behind her mask. She speaks formally to all those around her, but is quick to finish her job by any means. She’s known for simply shushing her prey before ending their lives as she kills them as quick and swiftly as the wind. She rarely shows her emotions on any occasion and will silence anyone who dares to remove her mask.

History: Not much is known about her aside from her having an apprentice. But beyond that, her past remains unknown.

Name: Louisa Ingrad the 3rd

Role: Actress

Birthday: Feburary 7

Age: 28

Height: 5′4

Likes: Vivinenne. Regal. Fine wine. Velvet roses.

Dislikes: Rudeness. Red roses.

Personality: Louisa is a well-mannered member of the Ingrad Family. She’s polite, sweet, and very social when given the chance. She acts very motherly towards her cat and holds a great deal of care and respect for Vivinenne, who she’s known since childhood. She also tends to be the type of person to takes risks when she’s really bored. She also has a strong poker face, making her hard to read.

History: Born into the Ingrad family, she was raised to be a prime and proper lady. She’s lived by the rules of the family, ‘Be generous, be calm, be clean, and be proper.’ Any of this rules that get broken and her whole life falls apart. As she grew up, she met a young girl named Vivinenne. While the details regarding their first meeting are unclear, the two have been near inseperable ever since. So much so that they might be in love with each other, but no proof has been provided to prove this theory. At the age of 24, she was given a street cat, who she named Regal and has taken good care of her for all her life. She has become famous for her generous donations for many causes. Most of which were post-war related situations to help innocent people return to their daily lives. And yet, there is something....off about her too. Something....dangerous.

Name: Unknown. Goes by Q.

Role: Seer

Birthday: Unknown. Likes to celebrate on November 30.

Age: Unknown

Height: 5′5 ft

Likes: Beer. Loud Music. Fighting games. Horror Movies. And porn.

Dislikes: Being ignored.

Personality: Loud and brash and wild. Q spends most of his time listening to hard rock and heavy metal while playing random video games to ease his boredom of being an introvert. He tends to react violently over the smallest issues, making him extremely brash when push comes to shove. Despite this, he’s very patient and is very wise even though he doesn’t act like it.

History: Unknown

Name: Lili(Left male) and Bibi(Right female)

Role: Toy makers

Birthday: December 9

Age: 8

Height: 3′10

Likes: Toys. Fun. Games. Candy. Pizza. Chicken. Seafood. And baby sharks.

Dislikes: Annoying people

Personality: Lili and Bibi are near polar opposites. Lili is shy while Bibi is bold. Bold is reckless while Lili is careful. Lili is peaceful while Bibi is chaotic. Bibi is chaotic while Lili maintains order. But despite this, they are always in 100% sync with each other. They agree on almost everything they can think of think of. They enjoy making toys together, they enjoy pulling pranks, they enjoy eating together. They even enjoy bathing together. Especially if the bath has bubbles. But when they are wronged, they will do whatever it takes to get payback.

History: Unknown

Name: Regal

Role: Pet

Birthday: May 2

Age: Unknown

Height: 61 cm

Likes: Fish. Louisa. Sleeping. And working out.

Dislikes: Anyone who hurts Louisa.

Personality: He’s a mischevious cat who likes to eat fish. He’s also scary strong for reasons still unknown. Oddly enough, he can understand human speech, despite not being able to speak it himself. He’s not blind like people think he is. He just lacks pupils according to Louisa.

History: Unknown

[fangirl-erdariel]

Quote time!

"Never mind the rising sun, there's no sign of day or dawning"

"Until all the songs are sung"

"As Darkness Takes The Day"

"And I would bring you rings of gold"

"I'll be okay / cause I've been loved enough today"

"Lived for lies, lived for tales"

"Kept my treasures with my bones"

Ooooh let me see... I'm still in Too Much of a Middle-Earth mood so I can't promise that you'd get anything but that, tho ':D

Never mind the rising sun, there's no sign of day or dawning - I think this would be Silmarillion stuff... Maybe Maglor? Like After the War of Wrath and the whole mess with the Silmarils, after Maedhros has killed himself, after there's nothing left. Maglor, walking into the Second Age with none of the things he left Aman for and no hope of ever gaining them, only blood on his hands and no reason to go on except that he doesn't know what else to do. Uh. Sorry, this got really depressing (but to be fair to me there's Too Much Stuff going on for me to be able to come up with anything very cheerful right now)

Until all the songs are sung - For some reason my brain went into Elladan and Elrohir after LOTR. Still lingering in Middle-Earth because it's the only land they've ever known and they still love it (and also they care about Arwen and Aragorn), but knowing that should they choose the fate of the elves, they must soon leave for the West, because the time of the elves is over and they no longer really fit in in Middle-Earth, and kind of just exploring that dilemma. (For the record, I still think that they both did ultimately choose the elves, but they only sailed to the West together with Legolas and Gimli after Aragorn and Arwen had died.) I could not tell you if my life depended on it why this title would be that fic, though, it's just what my brain went to for some reason :D

As darkness takes the day - I think this could maybe be of the Fall of Eregion (and the army led by Elrond being too late to stop it) and the beginning of the War of Elves and Sauron in the Second Age. Probably at least mostly Elrond POV, but just kind of that like realization of how much worse it is than they had anticipated it was going to be and the kind of uncertainty as Eregion is lost and the elven army is forced to retreat bc Sauron's forces are just too strong and all that, you know?

And I would bring you rings of gold - For some reason my mind is going more towards BBC Merlin? Maybe some cute but mildly angsty Leoncelot, with Lance being totally in love with Leon but feeling unworthy of being with him and too shy to confess anyway, and it's just kind of him watching Leon from a distance while thinking of all the things he'd do for and give to him if he had the courage to show his feelings?

I'll be okay, cause I've been loved enough today - hmm, this one's hard. I'm not sure. It would be something super angsty but in kind of a Soft way with a happy ending? But I can't give a character or fandom, sorry! ':D

Lived for lies, lived for tales - for some reason I'm thinking Merlin with this too. Maybe Merlin afterwards questioning the narrative he'd tried to live by about him basically existing to help Arthur and starting to realize how it maybe wasn't the greatest idea to live his life only for someone else, rather than for himself and according to what he maybe would have wanted

Kept my treasures with my bones - I have no idea which fandom or character this would be, but I think it would be a resurrection story, someone being brought back from dead, you know? It definitely has an interesting vibe!

Thank you so much for the ask!!

#answered ask #talvenhenki #ask game

[love-is-a-dagger]

Masterlist

Cat lover -Loki tries to find something to do while you’re on the phone only to have a little demon appear. (Mash’s backstory)

Flour war - you and Loki bake together

Stormy nights -Loki helps you sleep

Are you leaving- Loki feels unworthy of your love and tries to leave.

You’re my world -Bucky wakes up to you

I’m here -after getting rescued from hydra, Bucky can’t keep his eyes off of you.

I’ll be back -how you fell apart when Steve left and Bucky putting you back together again

Beard -Bucky has never shaved his beard after his kid was born, how will she react once he shaves it.

Long ride -Feared bike gang leaders, Steve and Bucky, are emotionless and strong minded, normally not a good mix, but they make it work. What happens when woman gets involved? (Stucky x reader)

I don’t know how to fix this -Bucky mourns the loss of Steve and you haven’t seen Bucky in five years.

I’ll be back -how you fell apart when Steve left and Bucky putting you back together again

Long ride -Feared bike gang leaders, Steve and Bucky, are emotionless and strong minded, normally not a good mix, but they make it work. What happens when woman gets involved? (Stucky x reader)

A different kind of love - y/n loves to give Natasha rocks, which end up in the avengers teasing her.

Matching pjs - you get matching pjs with Natasha

Ghosts can’t talk - after Nat dies, you can’t help but see her.

Hurricane- you lose control of your powers but Druig helps you out.

Only love can hurt like this links with hurricane, in what’s supposed to be one of the happiest days of your life, you get blipped.

I just want you safe- kinda of a part two to only love can hurt like this. Deviants attack druigs village and he wants to keep reader safe.

Late night loving- you can’t sleep, so you paint, and Druig can’t sleep without you, so he sneaks up on you.

He’s a hugger, not a fighter- Druig shows his affection through physical touch

A stark and an eternal- Tony’s little sister being a little shit

Little things-reader likes to collect knickknacks and Marc relives the memories while looking at them

Are you okay - The once stern and moody y/n nearly dies on a mission, turning her into a new person, confusing the avengers.

Freak - y/n has problems with controlling her new found powers.

Headcannon -how they react with you on your period

That’s what’s family’s for- the avengers help y/n deal with a breakup

Madness- the reader is all alone after the blip, they can see the dead and it’s messing with their head

Non-marvel characters

Lance tucker

It’s been a hard day -after having a hard day at work Lance treats you.

#masterlist #loki x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #avengers x reader #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki fanfic #steve rogers x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader

[former-ly-darth]

The Chains

(I didn’t proofread this so errors are inevitable.)

No. 

No no no no! 

A sickening crack echoes through Maul’s skull when his body collides with the stone wall next to the palace; his palace. Or…what was his. 

No! He thinks, angrily, frustrated, enraged, hopeless. Not again! Not this! Not again!

Pain lances through his body. His head throbs and the base of each horn arches from the impact. He’s sure he must have broken at least one, if not, it’s certainly split. Oh well, horns grow back. 

Maul’s body is peeled from the side of the stone wall. Suspended in air, he can’t even see where he is in relation to his old master, but he feels his body raise slightly before he is slammed forcefully into the cement. Something snaps and he thinks maybe it was a rib. He’s broken those plenty of times before. A familiar sharp pang shoots through his arm and pulses in his chest. Yes, he definitely just broke a rib, perhaps two. 

The rage is worse than the pain. It’s crushing, consuming, but it’s what keeps him alive. If it weren’t for his rage, Maul would have died years ago, long before his run in with the Jedi and Kenobi on Naboo. Oh, how many times Maul can remember suffering agony as a boy, how many times he thought ‘This is it. This is how I will die. He’s going to kill me.’ and the next moment he would think ‘So this has all been for what? It was a game for him? Have I been nothing but an experiment? Is this how it was going to end all along?’ It was those moments of outrage, of pure unbridled hatred that managed to keep him alive out of sheer spite. 

‘No,’ He would tell himself, even in those moments when death felt so close and so alluring that he would have rather succumbed to it’s still, gentle embrace. ‘You will not kill me. I will not die. I refuse to let my existence be only a game for you. I will survive.’ 

His hatred of his master, even after all of these years, has not waned. 

But even still, Maul finds himself unprepared for the punishment that is yet to come. It’s been so long since he’s suffered at the hands of his master, his former master. In his foolishness, he’d allowed himself to believe that those days of being tortured by Sidious were gone. He’d honestly convinced himself that he might get to live a life free from his shackles. How stupid he had been. 

Worst of all, Maul can see Savage’s body out of the corner of his eye as he pushes himself off of the ground. It’s clear now that Mother Talzin must have used her magic on him as well. In his brother’s dying moments, Maul had watched Savage shrink from what many revered as a monster into a man. His horns shrank, his body grew slighter, and his armor had disappeared. 

‘I am an unworthy apprentice.’ Savage’s voice echoes in Maul’s ears now. No, he thinks as he gasps and scrambles away from Sidious. No, brother, I was an unworthy master. I failed you. I am sorry.

All of the pain, the anger, the hatred towards Sidious and knowing that this had all just been a fun way to toy with Maul give way to fear and a terrible dread of humiliation. He knows what happens next. He’s played this part many times before.

Not again, Maul’s chest aches from an internal pang of emotion, please…not again. 

Humiliation. Sidious had always been fond of using it to punish his apprentice. It was his greatest tool in breaking Maul’s spirit. ‘Oh, poor Maul. All he ever wanted was a friend.’ Sidious’s voice is burned into every corner of his mind. Those words had cut so deeply as a child, because at the time Maul couldn’t understand. What’s so wrong about wanting a friend? 

“Have mercy,” Maul wheezes, feeling the ache in his fractured rib pierce his breath with each gasp for air, “Please, Please!”

Begging never helps, but he knows Sidious enjoys hearing him plead. Not begging would only make things worse. Maul knows this. Every time he had ever pled for mercy, he can remember the sadistic joy in Sidious’s eyes as he took the chance to recite his favorite lesson:

“There is no mercy.” 

Maul screams. 

The lightning courses through his body, heightening every ache and throb. It is white hot agony, causing Maul to twitch and writhe as he desperately tries to absorb the pain, but each second drags on and brings a new height to his suffering. His nerves burn and his skin sings with a new found level of pain.

Then finally, thankfully, the torture stops. Sidious says something, but Maul doesn’t hear it over the pounding of blood in his ears. He can’t even tell if his eyes are open at this point. His vision is blurred and dark. Stray charges of electricity still course through him, leaving him twitching and jerking, but he catches his breath. 

For the first time in years, Maul is back in the cold, dark room he was raised in on Mustafar, and he’s barely tall enough to see his reflection in the window. Even back then his body had learned not to cry, but his chest had still ached with a resounding sadness he couldn’t understand. Here on Mandalore, Maul feels like a child as he looks up at the hidden face of his former master and wishes he could be that boy in the window. 

He will survive. It is all he can do. 

#darth maul #savage opress #my writing #ficlet #the wrath of maul #darth sidious #hurt no comfort #poor maul #the clone wars #star wars #the boy in the window part probably won't make sense if you haven't read The Wrath of Maul

[nimata-beroya]

Rating; Teen and up

Warnings: major character injury, referenced torture

Paring: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb Orrelios

Words: 2968

Chapter: 1 of 2

Synopsis: While arriving at the new rebel base, Kallus tries to deal with the consequences of his narrow escape from Thrawn's hands alone. Unfortunately, life has different plans for him.

WELCOME TO YAVIN IV

CHAPTER 1

By when the Ghost touches down on the new rebel base, Kallus holds himself upright by the sheer power of his will alone. He’s running on fumes but wants to keep the extent of his injuries from everyone. Alexsandr is sure that the rebel crew—Garazeb, in particular—would pity him and waste the ship’s meager medical supplies on his wounds. He won’t allow that.

He can’t.

A long list of reasons exists for which Kallus believes himself unworthy of using those resources. The other survivors deserve more attention than he does. And as if that wasn’t reason enough, for most of his life, vulnerability meant death, so showing weakness in front of others makes his skin crawl.

He used up his meager quota of frailty corresponding to an entire year when, with begrudged compliance, he used Bacta gel on the wounds on his face per the uncompromising orders of Captain Syndulla. It was a lost battle even before beginning. The defeats he suffered against the tenacious Twi’lek pilot and her Spectres over the years augured a similar outcome then, so he relented. Alexsandr was too tired (and beyond grateful to her for diving into the middle of the space battlefield and saving his ass) to defy the order.

Kallus can push through injuries, pain, and exhaustion if he has to. But no more. His body has reached its limit. He’s pushed himself too far. The adrenaline drop after today’s events has caught up with him at last. Alexsandr is acutely aware of each bruise and every ache on his body, tokens of Thrawn’s and his death troopers’ relentless torture. The throbbing in his head makes him queasy. As if it wasn’t enough, a coldness worse than the one he suffered in Bahryn seeps into his core. Kallus hugs himself, trying to fight the tremors of his body.

A searing ache shoots up his thigh every time he puts weight on his right leg. If Kallus holds the conviction that it’s nothing but bruised instead of broken (he has imprinted in memory how it feels when shattered), he cannot say the same for his ribs. Even the shallowest intake of breath equals a lance of pain, foreshadowing the damage to his ribcage. This widespread agony that Kallus endures in silence ships away pieces of his strength. The longer that he bears pain, the harder it is to fight the weariness in the marrow of his bones.

He stands on the catwalk’s side, watching the last survivors of the Battle of Atollon disembarking from the freighter, and thus putting off his exit. Just thinking about descending the ladder to the cargo bay and facing the rebellion’s chief commanders tempt him the same. Nothing at all.

His future is uncertain. Yes, he was a Fulcrum agent working for the rebel alliance, but Kallus is sure that his past crimes weigh a lot more than his spy days.

A heavy hand landing on his sore shoulder draws him out of his thoughts. The sudden jostle sends ripples of pain through his back and chest. It takes everything in him to swallow the miserable grunt threatening to escape from his throat. Something that Kallus doubts he could’ve done without the training he received in the ISB added to the years of experience concealing his emotions during his service to the Empire.

“C’mon, Kallus,” Zeb says. His voice holds a trace of excitement beneath the layers of tiredness and grief. “Let’s get outta here. I’m sure you wanna get ridda that uniform and get a g’night’s sleep. Don’t you wanna see our new home?”

Keep reading

#road to lira san #kalluzeb fic #kalluzeb #alexsandr kallus #garazeb orrelios #welcome to yavin iv #mare writes star wars #kallus whump #whump #hurt comfort

[akampana]

12. For Lancelot and Artoria?

12. “You have to come back to me. Because I cannot do this without you.”

Lancelot X Arturia

When I made this, initially it was only supposed to be up to the cut. So you can read up to there first, then decide if you need another helping of fresh angst. :)

_______

The stables of Camelot used to be a comfort. He was here frequently, fetching his King’s horse from the stableboy right before hunts, sometimes returning Llamrei when Arthur had to be pulled away right after going riding. The horses were familiar with him, so they did not stir, not even when Lancelot came in drenched in red.

The exiled knight stifled his sobs as he spat iron, rubbing the blood—Gareth’s? Gaheris’s? he didn’t know—on his hands all over his frock. It was a futile effort. No matter what he did, his palms would remain stained by the blood of Gawain’s brothers. First Agravain’s, and now theirs, who knew who it would be next?!

He’d been toeing the line between madness and sanity for hours now, knowing his name was tarnished beyond belief. Every second that passed saw him slipping, sliding, till that one moment where he finally fell over the edge. If not for the knowledge that Guin was waiting just outside the castle gates for his return, he’d have been kicking and screaming under the weight of his pain.

Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me. He chanted in his head, finding Gareth’s white horse. It wouldn’t be missed. It hadn’t its master anymore. Slowly, he swung the gate open.

As if sensing his sins, the horse whinnied and bucked, thrashing against the reins. Lancelot braced its muzzle, begging for its silence to no avail. Tears fell from his eyes as he contemplated putting the animal down before it could stress the other stallions, but suddenly, the beast stilled, calmed by a smaller hand on its nose.

In an instant, Arondight was slashing through the stranger’s black and white hood. There couldn’t be any more witnesses. Not even the stableboy—god, deliver the innocent soul—could leave here alive.

Perhaps it was his anguish, or maybe his guilt, but his strike missed, only just managing to catch the string of the small person’s cloak. With great haste, Lancelot brought up his sword again as the hood fell from the boy’s face.

Onyx clashed with evergreen.

Then, Lancelot was sobbing on his knees, clinging to King Arthur—Arturia’s ankles and begging for death. His sins were plentiful. He’d done enough. He deserved not the blade he wielded, nor the life he still had. The fire and stake that were prepared for tomorrow should have been for him, not Guinevere, for it was he that ought to be thrown into hell.

“Lance,” Arturia called, sinking down to the unworthy soil. Carefully, she lifted his head so his tearful eyes met her forlorn ones. She leaned her forehead onto his, for touch was the only comfort she knew, and returned Arondight to his hands.

“You must take this with you. Your sword will not find another master here. Guin—” she flinched at the sound of her wife’s name, her eyes beginning to sting. “Guin needs your protection.”

“My liege, I implore you, end my life—”

“I refuse,” Arturia cut him off, suddenly standing and walking to the end of the stables. It was far too dark for him to see her tears, the way she bit the inside of her cheek. Deep down, Arturia knew this decision was costly. She smelt blood on him. It was not difficult to guess whose it was. If Guinevere was freed already, then she knew to prepare two graves when the sun came up. Her dearest nephew had just lost two more of his kin.

While Lancelot flung whispered questions her way, she saddled her horse and put on its reins, leading it back to her knight. Ignoring his words, she pressed the leather into his hands, bracing herself for goodbye.

“The archers at the gate will not dare shoot Dun Stallion. He is quick as the wind and fond of...fond of her.”

Ignoring his protests, she trudged past him to the exit, pulling her torn hood over her head once more. Lancelot made chase, but she’d already made the decision to let him go. At this point, could he even refuse this, when she extended her generosity even after all his sins?

He couldn’t.

Arturia looked back once, her hood concealing the last remorseful look she’d saved just for her First Knight. As he mounted her prized horse, she whispered low enough that the breeze could carry it away.

“You have to come back to me. Because...I cannot do this without you.”

Lancelot turned for a final glance, knowing not that this would be the last time he saw the person he loved the most alive and well.

“My king, I beg of you. Please. Please, Arthur.”

...

“No...No, no, no!” Lancelot pleaded, scooping up his beloved king’s broken body into his arms. Five steps away, Bedivere bit his lip, a fourth wave of tears falling from his tired eyes. The banished knight shook her once, twice, but the peaceful expression on her face didn’t change. Lancelot slipped his hand into her hair, supporting the head that lolled back, screaming her name in the hopes that she’d respond.

Salt fell from his dark lashes onto her cold cheek as Lancelot hugged her to his chest, squeezing hard enough there was no chance she wouldn’t complain. She had to. She had to say he was smothering her or...or that he didn’t deserve to touch her or that this wasn’t appropriate conduct for a knight. She had to.

“No,” he cried, feeling her blood seep through the gaps in his armor. “I came back, my liege. I returned for you, I swear it.” Curse Gawain. If he hadn’t just...if Gawain had just let him pass—If he could have held out on delivering vengeance just long enough for Lancelot to join the war...But how could he blame his friend, when he came running back in the name of Britain with Gareth’s bloodstains still fresh on his hands?

Lancelot wailed at her silence, clutching that who mattered most to him in desperation. Give her back, he prayed, hopelessly appealing to every deity he knew, even the most mischievous of fae. Someone, anyone had to respond. Was there no god that took pity on a king who sold her life in service? Was there no one at all?

The disgraced swordsman shoved Bedivere’s hand off his shoulder, hugging Arturia’s dead—no, not dead she couldn’t be— body closer. He ignored his former comrade’s words. She hadn’t gone. She was just sleeping.

“I did what you said. I returned for you, I…” he hiccupped, feeling no breath from her soft lips. His fist thudded on the bark of the tree she leaned against, the pain ripping through his knuckles paling in comparison to that which plagued his heart. Suddenly, he grabbed onto her chestplate, ripping off the armor like it was paper, and pressed his head to her heart. Surely it was still beating. Surely—

Lancelot?

The disgraced knight launched himself off the ground at the familiar voice, turning to see his king smiling down at him from behind a nearby tree.

“Arturia?” he answered, relief tainting his strained vocal chords. She beckoned him toward her, with welcoming arms, not a single speck of blood in sight.

Did I worry you, my love?

Lancelot walked toward her, reaching for his most precious person. Each step felt lighter than the last. He could vaguely hear Bedivere calling to him, but he ignored the noise. Arturia was here. Nothing else mattered more.

“No, my liege,” came his fragile answer as he kissed her cold, featherlight fingers. “I believed you would wait. I came in haste but Gawain—”

Visions of bloodshed overtook his mind like black paint thrown onto a white canvas. Suddenly, the sunny forest turned to one of flesh and bone, of bodies of friend and foe alike. Everywhere he looked were the friends he wronged. Gawain, his siblings, all those he had to cut down just to protect the king’s wife, then Guin—

There is no need to speak of him, love, for you are here at last.

Arturia’s voice pulled him back into paradise. He couldn’t even feel his wounds. When did she start wearing her hair down like that? It was lovely.

Come, Lance.

“Yes, my king,” he replied, content.

Lancelot followed her into the forest, a wide smile upon his once troubled face.

Bedivere clutched his king’s dead body to his chest, watching in horror as Lancelot disappeared into the trees.

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