#never rendering anything ever again

[vind3miat0r]

"So I'll ask you again. What state of matter is love?"

confession i cried a lot during the finale

@moronkyne @zimix-whispers @wuegh @totheak47 @indigo-greer-collins

@chlorine3 @fedorabender @dawnofiight @definitelynuwonhere @porters-fangs

@milogreer @ambrose-mp4 @nevaroonie @paythesmith @int3rtwiningh3artstrings

@puffin-smoke @vampire-biter @porcelaininkpot @urfrenfishy

if u wanna be added to the taglist just lmk :3

[diioss-art]

Sketch redraw of this valvert drawing I did ages ago

[avenoire]

smth smth bnnuy shado in the vip room

[i-am-but-a-beta-fish]

don't look at me

@the-elder-polls — hello! it is tcs friday, so i wanted to share this piece i made of my ldb road, who enjoys magic, extreme mountain climbing, and never talking about herself, ever. don't worry about it. she's definitely not lying about her name or her age or any significant personal information like that. the mask is just a fashion statement. don't—don't worry about it. 

(she's sixteen. she only started going by road because she thought she got carted to helgen for being an enemy of the thalmor, so when hadvar revealed no one had any idea who she was she was so startled she just blurted out the name of the first thing she saw. which was the road. somehow no one has caught on to the fact that this is a really weird and suspicious name for an altmer to have, even if their parents didn't like them very much. she's come to genuinely prefer it over her original given name, but she's been living in horrible teenage anxiety about it for so long that it hasn't once occurred to her that maybe introducing herself like that at this point is not, in fact, lying, and therefore road does not, in fact, have to feel incredibly guilty about it.

she still does, because she's a emotional disaster masquerading as a functional and mentally stable adult, but she'll get there.

…eventually.)

[yukennico]

i gave up with this drawing 😭 7 hours of nothing 🗣️🗣️🗣️

[whenuwishuponastar]

I liked you right from the start

[crystallizsch]

wait have i ever posted yuusha’s png-

bye putting their sprites together like this is so hdhdhhddjb

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

I saw Gianni retweet your art on Twitter and I was like "I wonder if he knows...?"

I don’t think so >:3

Trick people into reposting gabe ass with one simple trick! Click here to find out how.

I didn’t even notice that happened cause I turned off all my notifications everywhere a few days ago for peace and quiet

[itsnotmourn]

“Hey, girl. Wanna imagine our boyfriends as cat boy maids?”

[karapom]

Tav + astarion

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley with a user who basically kidnaps herself. CW : Masturbation, mentions of oral

It started with the little things. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise more frequently. You heard heavy breathing and a slick sound at night coming from your slightly open window. A blank account following your public instagram account.

You then started seeing him. A tall burly man that seemed to always appear In the corner of your eye. You never saw his face because of the balaclava he wore. And that frustrated you.

Hell, if a guy is going to stalk you, the least he can do is not hide his face.

Eventually, you got sick of it. You let the brute of a man follow you home as usual. Let him watch you 'sleep' through your window while he fisted his cock. And then when he went home, you followed him.

You honestly thought he'd catch you. Feel you watching him. Following him home. But it seemed that his post orgasmic haze rendered him vulnerable.

You followed the man to a nice looking home. Not huge or anything, but It was cozy.

You then watched through a window as he drank a glass of whiskey, before walking through the home to his bedroom.

You quickly rushed to the bedroom window, glad the blinds weren't fully shut.

The man then sat down on his bed, pulling something from his bedside drawer-hey wait, are those your fucking panties you lost? Sneaky bastard. Those are your favourite.

And now he's fisting his cock again. Only this time, he's taken off that stupid balaclava to sniff them and-oh.

Oh.

Fuck, he's hot.

Those scars, the dirty blonde hair, the slightly crooked nose from being broken so many times, Jesus H Christ.

Yeah. To say you were thinking of this mans face between your thighs was an understatement. He might genuinely be one of the hottest men you've ever seen.

You quickly went home, going to the blank account that had followed you, and with a few clicks, you found the guys private instagram. Simon Riley. He's not the only person who's good at stalking.

You then found out that he was in the military. A Lieutenant. Seemed to be really private. No matter though, you already knew where he lived.

The following day, you took the day off work, and broke into Simon's home. Moving almost all of your stuff in. He wouldn't mind.

Then, when Simon walked into his house he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw you, sipping from one of his mugs, on his couch.

The woman he'd been stalking for nearly a year.

"I-what-what are you doing here?" He muttered, eyes wide as he took off his balaclava.

"You should have shown me your face earlier. I would have moved in ages ago" you shrugged.

"Moved in?" Simon almost squeaked.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

before you all panic, yes. There will be a part two :p

Edit! ~ there's a part 2 you thirsty animals ⟢ right here! ❤︎

[sunni-stuff]

fwb!Simon, who grunts out, I love you mid thrust, leaving you rightfully lost for words and unable to question him, not while he was hitting a spot that had your toes curling and stars dancing in your eyes.

It's only afterward that you confront him, sheets pulled up to your chest, trying to assemble some semblance of decency while he gets dressed with deliberate purpose, his back to you as if eager to escape your presence. Scars crisscross his back like a road map of past battles, mingling with the fresh evidence of your fruitless moment of passion—angry red streaks left by your nails, which had clung to him in desperation and abandon.

"Did you mean it?" The meek whisper escapes you as you watch him tug on his shirt, concealing the marks of your shared tryst as though they were nothing more than another wound to bear.

He doesn’t face you, his head slightly turned but unreadable, the balaclava masking any trace of vulnerability or regret. Simon sits on the edge of the bed to put on his boots, the silence stretching between you like a chasm. The weight of your question hangs heavy in the air, rendering him unable—or perhaps unwilling—to answer, though his stoic demeanor betrays nothing.

"Simon, I'm talking to you." Your voice trembles, frustration spilling into your tone.

"I heard you," He mutters, his voice low and clipped, refusing to meet your gaze as he tightens the laces of his boots.

Simon always does this. He always does this—offering you fragments of affection, fleeting and fragile, leaving you grasping at it like sand slipping through your fingers. No matter how tightly you hold on, it escapes, grainy and rough, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake. How much more could you take? How much longer could he toy with your heart before it finally broke?

"Then say something!" You finally scream, the words sharp and raw, slicing through the oppressive silence like a blade, desperate to shatter the wall he always hides behind.

He stills, shoulders stiffening, and for a moment, you think he might ignore you. But then, he snaps—his voice booming in the small room, rougher than you’ve ever heard it.

"What am I supposed to say?" The words come out like a growl, his frustration spilling over in a way that’s uncharacteristic of his usual control. His head whips around, and though his face is hidden by the balaclava, the intensity in his eyes burns through you.

You flinch, never having seen him angry before, let alone enough to yell at you. The sharpness of his outburst leaves you unnerved—just for a moment. But then your own anger surges forward, overwhelming the tremor of fear. He’s been toying with your heart, leading you along like a puppet, pulling the strings, the conductor of a train you never asked to board.

"Did you mean it?" You ask again, your voice steady now, even as your chest tightens. You meet his brown eyes head-on, the fire in them slowly dimming your own, leaving you to wonder if there’s anything real beneath the cold facade he so carefully constructs.

Again, he doesn’t answer. Typical Simon. Instead, he reaches out, roughened hands cupping your cheeks, his thumb gently rubbing your soft skin. There it was again, that flicker of affection, brief and fleeting, poured into your palms like a delicate offering, expecting you to cherish it, to hold onto the scraps he gives.

But much to his surprise, you pull away, your gaze hardening. For once, you let the sand slip through your fingers, choosing not to cling to something so unreliable, something that always fades just when you think you’ve grasped it.

Simon stares at you in utter shock, his gaze frozen as you move away, laying back down, refusing to face him. He watches in silence as you refuse to look at him anymore with those eyes—those eyes that always regarded him as your guiding sun, the one constant in a world full of uncertainty.

Now, your back is turned to him, the sheets pulled up to your shoulders, leaving him in the dark, unable to see your eyes, the eyes that once held all the softness, the trust, the devotion he’d never truly earned.

There was nothing else that needed or could be said. No oasis in this desert, no water to quench the sand he's suffocated you with. Simon rises, grabbing his jacket and keys from your dresser, his movements mechanical. He wants to look back, wants to see if you're watching him leave, wondering if you’ll be crying like all the times before. The sullen look in your eyes, the one that always made his heart strain, that soft ache whenever he walked away.

But this time, he doesn't look. Not this time. Because he knows there will be no hopeful eyes waiting for him, no quiet plea left in your gaze. Instead, he sees only the remnants of what he’s broken, the red thread that once held you together now frayed beyond repair. He’s a coward, unable to face what he’s done, unwilling to see the damage he’s caused.

[littlelovelunette]

Ambessa x reader but Ambessa turned cold and distant overtime and because reader is still very caring and insecure she just doesn't do anything so that she doesn't upset Ambessa but then r gets gravely injured like an almost near death experience and Ambessa realizes she needs to get her shit together when reader tells her its fine and she doesnt have to bother because she's probably really busy.. it's to the point reader flinches at her touch because it's been so long(ambessa please just hug your wife she's sad and lonely) and just heavy angst/comfort:,)

Distance

Contains angst, mentions for violence

It's been months Ambessa had been cold to you. Cold and distant and every little bit of it hurt.

Whenever she was gone on long campaigns, you stayed up, waiting for her eagerly.

But you never spare a peep about your own distress, why must it bother Ambessa? She clearly had too much on her plate as it was.

Or so you thought.

Ambessa hadn't even realised she'd been mistreating her wife, completely throwing herself at whatever work would come by.

Her mind was in shambles. But so was your heart.

After a significantly bad battle, you were left bleeding. Your heart was slow and barely beating.

Ambessa had threatened every medic in town, she'd slaughter them or better yet make their life unliveable if they didn't make sure you were all perfect and good to go.

Your consciousness was coming and going and you had no clue for how long you were out but you wished was that Ambessa would start caring for you like she once used to.

Your eyes were fluttering open when Ambessa rushed to your side, shoving the medic to the side.

"Oh… you’re here," your voice came out in a weak rasp and your throat hurt to even speak. Your eyes were squinting due to the sudden light that hit them when you woke.

Ambessa moved closer to you, bending down. You seemed so small next to her.

"Of course I’m here," Ambessa said tenderly.

"You didn’t have to," you averted your gaze from hers, "I know you’re busy," your fingers played with the hem of the blanket you were covered with. Your injuries hurt, they hurt a damn lot. You could taste the metallic tang of your blood from your busted bottom lip.

Ambessa's golden eyes looked as strong as ever despite the inner turmoil threatening to break her.

"Busy?" Ambessa took a sharp breath, almost a scoff, "You nearly died. And you think I would just—" Ambessa cut herself off, she looked like she had nothing else to say. Rendered utterly speechless.

"No. Don’t do that. Don’t act like you don’t matter," Ambessa said getting up and pacing the room atleast four times before looking at you again.

"I know I matter," you said but the way your voice was teetering on the edge of a badly compressed sob gave your true feelings away, "I just… didn’t want to be a bother."

"A bother?" Ambessa scoffed, eyes softening when she looked at you with newfound affection, more than before. Different than before. She took a step closer to you, "Is that what you think? That you’re… a bother to me?"

"...I don’t know," your tone was more questioning than an answer, you tried to get up but decided against it. Your ribs felt like they'd crack under pressure anytime soon.

Silence. Then, the faintest brush of her fingers against hot feverish skin.

"I only—" Ambessa started but she cut herself off once again. This time not due to her own lack of words or her indecisiveness of what to say.

This time because you flinched as if you were afraid she was going to hurt you. Something Ambessa dearly hoped never to happen.

"…You flinched."

"I didn’t mean to," you said that like it was your fault that you flinched, as if it wasn't you waiting up all this time for Ambessa to come home from all those long campaigns.

Another silence, heavier this time. Then, Ambessa moved, and she embraced you in front of all the medics who had pure astonishment written across their faces. They'd never seen the fearsome warlord of Noxus so vulnerable before.

And now there Ambessa was holding you close as if you meant absolutely the world to her and for the first time in a long while, you felt alive again.

"Come here."

"Ambessa, you don’t have t—"

"Come here."

"I’m so sorry," Ambessa's apology was a whisper against your ear, soft and so unlike her, "I let you believe I didn’t care. I let you flinch away from me."

"It’s fine, you—" you began but you knew you were only making up excuses for the things Ambessa had done.

"No," Ambessa wouldn't allow you to try to make her look better to even her ownself, she knew her faults and she'd accept them. You were her wife. You deserved at least that bit from her, "That won’t happen again."

"Please don’t let go."

"Never."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Eddie:

He’s a tricky one.

He’s very peculiar with whom he lets get close to him but still there’s a lot of work on your behalf that needs to be done before he could even consider you to be one of those he’s closest to other then Volt. Even when he does he keeps most details about your relationship to himself, after all he didn’t find it necessary to let people know everything you did or were going to do at all, it’s not their business and he won’t make it their business to discuss amongst themselves as if this is a audience participation performance.

His affection/ care for you is one where he’s showing you just how carefully and how keenly he was to know you inside and out, picking up on things that you didn’t know that you did or even do in the first place. To be loved is to be seen or how the saying goes and Eddie does adhere to that in more ways than one.

He knows where you’ve left stuff and would move them to places that were more convenient for you, knowing that you’d probably spend hours on end tearing apart the house for your phone, the very same phone that is sitting on the kitchen counter in broad daylight for anyone to see even from the furthest corner of the room. If anything Eddie is saving you the hassle of the chase by cutting it shot and having what you needed in places that you could see before you.

He knows where your keys are, wallet/purse is, shoes, anything that he knew you would need and would easily loose if they weren’t within your direct line of sight. He never tells you that it’s him doing it but you’re well aware that it is him but didn’t want to say anything, and instead you merely brush your hand against the back of his own in a silent way of saying thanks.

Eddie has his moments, isn’t too keen on conversations that drag on past the point of him being able to withstand it, mainly due to him wanting to be anywhere else -with you preferably- then suffer another minute of mindless nonsense. Yet whenever he does small things like reminding you to tie your shoes, give you your keys, anything that would keep you within the routine that you’ve built for yourself and that’s when you appreciate him the most as you honestly didn’t know where you’d be without Eddie.

Volt:

Every time he touches you, you swear you keep getting an electric shock. It could be interlocked pinkies, his hand on the small of your back, interlocking arms, any form of physical contact and you’d experience a small shock now and then.

He on the other hand teases and says that’s just you, all the while giving you a knowing wink before he leaves most likely for the breaker box.

He knows what he’s doing, he’s very intentional with his touches and embraces that it leaves you feeling as though electricity is coursing through your veins afterwards, much to his delight as your reactions were the highlight of his day.

The second his eyes latches onto you, they’re following you no matter where you go, not really letting much else get in the way as he would even move his head if he needed to keep you within his line of sight. It’s just something he does that you couldn’t quite explain, even when you look at him while he’s looking at you, it’s almost as if he was rendering you breathless no matter how many times you’ve caught Volt in the act; after all the reaction was always the same.

He probably has more nicknames that he’s called you to the point where they might as well have become a permanent fixture, something that you’d knew you would always be greeted with without fail but that was mainly due to volt loving the expectant look upon your face whenever you did see him. It was something he knew you weren’t aware that you did but it was his personal favourite moments as it told him a lot more than what words ever could, so he just does it over and over again because it brings him as much sweet joy as it did you.

The Hanks:

If volt thinks he’s loud in his affection for you, then he’s never seen the hanks performing a fully thought out cheer routine for you, that ultimately ends in them in a dogpile somehow.

They are positivity incarnate but also chaotic with it while adding ‘bruh’ ‘dude’ ‘bro’ and the like at the beginning of their sentences followed by whatever they are talking about, the sentimentality of their messages is there but would most likely get some sayings wrong.

The Hanks make you feel as though you could do anything, even if you knew that it’s better then to let their words get to you in fear of doing something reckless, yet you can’t help but get a boost of confidence whenever they’re in your corner and cheering you on as loudly as they did.

so loudly that you wouldn’t be surprised if everyone within the house could hear their heartfelt and rambunctious shouts of encouragement over you just making yourself a breakfast or making buttered toast. They act as though you’ve just proven magic to be very much alive and real. There’s no real time for any form of negativity to come to your mind at all when the Hanks were already pulling you along with them to whatever they thought would be fun.

Your mind is occupied by the group and their activities that you would feel as though your moments were cheapened by the fact that the day was over, that you couldn’t have more time with them to do more fun stuff as a collective for everything with the Hanks was spontaneous but meaningful; for each and everything you did with them had formed a memory that you knew you’d keep for as long as you possibly could.

Amir:

He’s a mirror for fuck sake, he reflects what stands before him, seeing the beauty in everything from a potted plant to a singular stray sock at the foot of your bed.

So it’s not an act he’s putting on when he tells you that you’re radiant, ethereal, glowing and so on because he’s being the most genuine he could possibly be and you know it that it leaves you with a warmth within your chest whenever your with him.

If you were to ever display self consciousness or insecurity, something Amir hates to see especially upon you, this amazing man will do everything when his power to remind you that he’s a mirror, he couldn’t fabricate your reflection even if he tried because he wouldn’t dare deceive you from the beauty he always saw within you as he traces the features he had become so familiar at this point with a soft smile.

‘Perfect’ he says to himself, ‘just perfect.’

That one sentence alone was all that seemingly enough to make you forget everything you’ve feared wouldn’t be loved unconditionally, you could never become insecure when the man before you only saw your flaws a beauty in and of themselves for he refused to reflect any part of you that was ugly; to Amir nothing about you was ever considered ugly or unacceptable for you are the most precious person he’s ever had the honour of reflecting.

[fyuyushia]

"There's a reason why people don't stay where they are. Baby, sometimes, love just ain't enough" — Sometimes love just ain't enough.

Ex-boyfriend!Sung Jinwoo who you had to break up with due to the need to be realistic.

You didn't want to leave him, really. Especially after things just started going awry for him. His dad's gone missing, his mother succumbed to eternal slumber, never to awaken for who knows how long. With him being the sole breadwinner left to keep the family from falling into poverty, he had to drop out and work as a hunter despite only being an E-rank hunter.

He's struggling enough as is, so you wanted to keep yourself by his side. However as it stands, it just wasn't possible. Your mother despises him, your father pushes you to focus on your career and forget about your fleeting highschool romance.

"You've grown past that age now," he had said to you once during dinner. "Be realistic, you can't survive clinging onto a man who can't give you anything. Even worse since he's having you help pay things off. Where is his pride? No man would let the woman he loves work hard to make ends meet."

You wanted to refute, but you knew deep down his words rang true. Bags grew under your eyes due to overwork. Even if he didn't want you to, you couldn't help but want to help ease his burdens somewhat. However, this willingness of yours had resulted in your health deteriorating to a sickening point. Your once comfortable lifestyle became a distant memory, now wrought with debts and an alarming amount of bills to pay. You hated yourself for thinking this way, but it was the cold and bitter truth.

Not everything could be resolved with love alone.

Ex Boyfriend!Jinwoo who's absolutely devastated by the news when you break it to him but still greets you off with a smile. One last time, he takes you out to a meal in some obscure diner—one you always frequented with him whenever there was something to celebrate.

Offering to pay for the meal, he takes the remaining bill on his wallet, insisting that he should pay since he was the one who insisted. Jinwoo, your beloved Jinwoo—he was always shouldering everything, insisting on spoiling you despite always struggling to make ends meet. Small trinkets, flowers, even this run down diner—he'd spend every single dime on you and his family but never for himself. It was physically painful to tell him that, hated how you had to be realistic despite wanting nothing more to stay by his side.

When the night's over he takes you home, walking you to the station. You were quiet the entire time, unable to meet him in the eye. Guilt wracked up your nerves, rendering you unable to speak. He didn't deserve this—didn't deserve someone who'd give up on him when the going got tough. He deserved someone who'd stick by his side, lending him their shoulder especially on moments like this.

"Ah, right." Jinwoo halted in his tracks, reaching for something in his pocket.

You stop as well, tilting your head up a bit to see what he was doing. He furrows his brows, feeling around in search of something. He visibly lights up when he finally finds it, making you even more curious. You raise your head, twisting your body to face him entirely.

"Here," stretching out his arm, he offers a box to you. "A little something for you..."

You blink, surprised. You look at him for assurance, he nods in turn, urging you to take it. You gingerly accept it, holding the small box in your hand. Curious about what it held within, you open it.

A gasp leaves your lips, eyes wide in surprise. You stared at your hands and then to him, lips trembling. "This is..."

It was a necklace—one you adored but didn't have the guts to buy because of the amount. Using what little money you had, you chipped in on Jinah's tuition fee, forsaking the chance to get that necklace for yourself in favor of helping Jinwoo. You thought you wouldn't ever see it again—get to wear it even—but lo and behold.

He scratches the back of his head, a bit embarrassed. "I saw you eyeing it when we went to the mall before. I wanted to give it to you since it's our 4th anniversary. Am I being presumptuous?"

You look at him, disbelief etched on your features. You know full well how pricey it is, how did he even find the money to buy this?

"Jinwoo I—you didn't have to."

"I wanted to. I know being with me is difficult, I'm poor and I always come back home injured. I owe you this much."

You bit back a scoff, baffled by just how selfless this man could get. You wanted to say something, berate him for being so stupid and going through such lengths for you. Instead, all that left you was a broken sob.

Tears ran down your cheeks, unable to hold in the guilt that ate you from in to out. Your shoulders trembled, lips quivering as you wept. "You idiot."

Your heart felt heavy, crushing your body with its weight. The waterworks quickly ran, never ending once it began.

"I"m sorry, I'm sorry. Jinwoo I—I'm sorry."

Breathless murmurs left your lips, apologizing profusely to the man who fate saw fit to make suffer.

Stupid Jinwoo, always so considerate. Offering everything to you so zealously, he was far too naive. "Do you think I'd appreciate something like this? You dummy."

Jinwoo flinches, panicking at the sight of your tears. "Hey now, why are you crying? Don't cry, you know I don't like seeing you cry."

He gives you a small smile, bringing you to his arms to give you a tight hug. You only cry harder in response, aching for this man—for this unbelievably sweet man.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too, I know it was a nightmare being with me."

"Don't say that." You bury your face against the crook of his neck. Circling your arms around him, your hands grip the fabric of his sweater. "You were a blessing."

"Thank you." He pats your back, not minding the fact that you've stained his clothes with your tears. "But there's no need to deny it. I know I haven't been the best boyfriend."

"I would've preferred it if I could give you a comfortable life as well." He pulls you closer, rubbing comforting circles. "You deserve more than this life. You deserve a man who can provide you with anything you want, not someone like me who can barely give you anything."

"Shut up." You bawl, knuckles turning white from the sheer grip you had on him.

He laughs. "I'm sorry, I wasn't able to give you that kind of life even up to the very end."

Ex boyfriend!Jinwoo who lets you go all too easily, trying to not mind the aching pain that grew in his chest. He knew it was for the better, you deserved better than him.

He sees other couples out and about on the streets, wearing smiles free of worry. He envies them, longing for a time when he can make you smile so widely like that as well. He knows it in his head. He knows it well—too well it absolutely ruins him. You deserve more than run-down diners and cheap gifts. You deserve more than having to worry about the roof on your head, deserve more than having to skip meals just to save money. You deserved someone that wasn't him. At least, the him he was now.

Ex-boyfriend!Jinwoo who, after years finally had his life back together. His mother woke up, Jinah's tuition problem was solved and he had enough money to not worry about the roof over his head now. He's grown stronger, better than the him of the past.

Ex-boyfriend!Jinwoo who you meet again after years. Your life turned for the better shortly after leaving him as well, no longer burdened by the never-ending bills you once worried about having to pay. He's standing in front of you, taller, cooler, you had a hard time reconciling him with the Jinwoo you once knew.

You peer into his eyes, noticing the innocence that left his eyes. Your heart pangs, what horrors did he have to face to end up where he is now? You worry for him, but you don't say anything, afraid of overstepping. Did you still even have the right to worry? After leaving him in the dust, leaving him to fend for himself?

"Jinwoo."

He replies with your name, bluntly calling you as well. You spend a few seconds trapped in this moment, staring into his eyes that you loved getting lost in.

"it's been a while. Seems like you've been doing great lately, good for you."

He nods, allowing a smile to break on his lips. It was bittersweet, and through it did you see a glimpse of the past, the naive him that disappeared as he had to survive for the sake of himself and his family.

"Care for a walk?" He follows up with your name, murmuring it so softly you were immediately thrown back to the past.

"Maybe a cup of coffee too while we're at it, just like the good times."

Wait hold on my creative juices aren't stopping whoa. Watch me disappear of of the face of the internet for another month again after running out of reserves.

[yuriartillery]

defeated

You’re on the back foot. You have been for months. This war began with the wind at your back and the Goddess of Victory in your corner, but everything has fallen apart. And the origin of your sorrows now casts open the door to let in the news of your ignominious defeat.

“It’s over.” The Hero’s voice is matter of fact. She speaks softly, but her words are born by servants unseen across the throne room to your ears. “There’s no more reason to fight.”

That incenses you. How dare she? She who has been given everything and demands more. She who has never once compromised or bent for anyone. She for whom the very stars in the sky rechart their celestial trajectories. Of course you will fight. You will not be ruled. 

“Your generals have surrendered.” she approaches now, padding across your polished stone floors with bare feet. “Save one who remains awaiting your commands. He and his men won’t stand down without you.”

Her presence fills the space like the sunrise. The soot-choked ceiling bearing the chandelier and crystal sconces glitter like faint stars as the clear blue skies of the hero stretch across the ceiling. At the centre she stands now, positively radiant. Unarmed and unarmoured, she has come to you in only a loose white summer dress. The glare is too harsh, you can’t make out the expression on her face. She begins again as she takes two steps closer.

“I’d rather not you force my hand. This is over, after all.” You catch a hint of firmness in her voice. She has already decided how she might kill you. Hatred for her burns in the back of your throat like your own sick. Now you stir from your throne, uncoiling like a serpent. With a flick of your wrist the doors behind the Hero slam shut, severing the flood of daylight. Her radiance doesn’t dim though, and finds itself reflected in what little petty baubles you've hoarded. What was once a moonless night now has become a sea of stars.

A second gesture ignites the sconces, painting the room in cruel reds and oranges, contrasted by stark shadows. Your pride demands that you do not roll over and accept defeat. Even if you have no hope of victory as she says, you will make a mark on her perfect body. She cannot have everything just as she wants it, you will never allow it. Backlit by hate, your shadow stretches covetously towards her.

“Over?” you ask darkly. “You think cowards that surrendered to you wouldn’t cross back over at the instant of your death?” You gesture languidly for emphasis. She has no response yet, so you continue. “I have innumerable reasons to fight you, so-called Hero. Beyond the threshold of your death lies all of my wildest fantasies, and I will indulge each and every one till I am bloated and sick with them.”

She is looking at you, the corona of light rendering her expression still unreadable at this distance. You stride forward a step, the points of your heels clicking against the stone. Still she says nothing, prompting you to continue further.

“When I look at you, hero, I see arrogance unalloyed. I know you. Not once have you measured less than a challenge required. Not once have you sacrificed for what you believe. Not once have you ever lost anything at all.” You gesture broadly with your cloak. “And now you enter my castle, my throne room, uninvited and expect me to roll over without a fight? Truly I name the sin of pride yours, hero.”

“So I stand against you. How could I not? I have everything to gain from opposing you and nothing to lose. And you, hero, deserve what is coming to you. It will be my utmost pleasure to deliver you this long awaited defeat!” You’re gasping for air by the end and your heart is pounding in your ears.

“Is that all?” she asks plainly. 

She doesn’t even have the decency to coat those barbed words with an affect of boredom. It’s as if a doll had delivered the question. You clench your right fist to your chest and foment the malice in your bosom. A thousand unavenged defeats and humiliation, now as unchanted hatred given direction by your outstretched left hand as your face contorts with anger at her unserious response.

“How dare y-” You are cut short. As you begin channeling your barrage, she crouches like a lion before prey. When the first syllable leaves your lips she is already leaping towards you, starfire sparking in her right hand. Before you can finish the third she drives a stake of divine light through the back of your palm into the floor, bringing you crashing to your knees.

She’s close enough to you now that that damned glow of hers doesn’t obscure her face. There’s a spatter of your blood up her arm and on her cheeks. The pain makes your vision go blurry for a moment, but you focus on her face. There are tears in her eyes. She lets go of the stake and stands above you. You scream in pain and frustration, she again waits for you to finish.

“I’m sorry. There’s still time for you to surrender. This doesn’t have to be to the death.” The tone of her voice is unchanging, even after depriving you of one of your hands. It hurts. Your hand is alight from within. You can barely feel the floor against the tips of your fingers. Healing magic isn’t your speciality. You’re going to lose this hand. At least it wasn’t your dominant one. Instead of responding you choke gasps for breath.

“I did tell you it was over. I thought you knew how weak you were. But that’s al-” This time you cut her off. While she admonished you like a child you cursed her to death silently. She’s obviously unprepared for a surprise attack. You grasp desperately at her. If you even graze her now she’s dead. 

“-right. Now you should know for sure.” It was with a spear of light this time. Your fingers just inches away from her pristine feet. She didn’t move at all to do this to you. The magic at your fingertips is fading fast now and your screams of pain are broken up by sobs. Your blurry gaze is fixed on the floor.

“Kill me then!” you spit out. She gets on her knees, staining her white skirt with your blood and softly takes your face in her unmarred hands. You hear her sniffle quietly as she turns your face up towards hers. Her expression is still blank, but the tears are streaming now. 

“Not unless you make me.” She shuffles until her knees are beneath your head and rests you there. You are pinned like an insect and entirely at her mercy and she has given you, her greatest foe, a pillow of her lap. You feel the insides of your hands slowly burning away. “And you can’t make me now. It’s alright.”

“Why not? This is-” you have to stop to catch your breath again. “All of this is my doing! Am I not evil to you!?”

“You are part of the world I must save.” she answers. She runs the palm of her hand over your silky black hair, as if she were a mother soothing her child. “If it is within my power to save you too, then I must.”

Now you realize, too late, that this hero is not human. This is not how a human thinks, these are not things that humans want, no matter how much they claim they do. From the very beginning you were contending with a monster you can only now begin to describe. She continues to pet you as you sob into her lap, as her weapons still pierce your body, as her radiance fills your dark chambers.

Time passes indeterminably. Your sobs quiet to whimpers and when they do she begins to sing to you. Either she doesn’t think or doesn’t care to remove the pins. It becomes boring and boredom dulls the pain. She isn’t going to let you go unless you agree you’ve been saved, but then what? She may have forgiven you. No, that’s wrong, she may think there is nothing she needs to forgive, but what of the real humans? Surely her grace alone isn’t enough to spare you.

“Hero,” you begin warily. She perks up and ceases her lullaby, all her attention fixed on you once again. “Your allies must surely think me unforgivable. Dozens have died by my hand and thousands by my command. Can you save me from them as well?”

This gives her pause. You know that the possibility would have never occurred to her unless you broached it. She smiles slightly. She’s evidently thought of a solution, but it unnerves you to see any expression at all on her doll-like face.

“I will keep you by my side. First it will be to convince the last of your army to surrender and to aid in building society again. Then you will remain with me thereafter.” She closes her eyes and tilts her head. “Like a house cat.”