#off topic tag of doom

[cupcakewebkinz]

I've been having a lazy day because the desire to sleep hit me like a bus heh-

Uhm.

I'm really shy but does any moots wanna like, chat a bit? Maybe?

I'm gonna try to write but I uh... I kinda have been wanting to talk to more people here but I have like THE WORST FEAR OF REACHING OUT HAHAHA-

curse anxiety...

Just be warned I swear a lot if you tell me you're okay with it-

[coddda]

Found this blog recently and I can't believe that there's someone who also thinks about a lawlight slay the princess au. I remembered thinking that princess/the shifting mound felt so similar to Light. With how she just becomes whatever people perceive her as, not unlike Light. Gosh I even made fanart that has just be rotting in my wip folder for months now. Maybe I should finish it one day.

HRNNNNNGH YES YES YES YOU GET IT YOU FUCKING GET IT!! AUGHH

I think I mentioned this in a post before but I first played stp while still knee-deep in my dn hyperfixation, so I Immediately thought of dn parallels as I was playing it (specifically between the shifting mound and Light as you mentioned. The second I heard the narrator say "She will lie, she will cheat, and she will do everything in her power to stop you from slaying her. Dont believe a word she says." my brain went "Oh! Light Yagami")

Also ofc my obsession with death note as a multiverse, the fact that there are so many versions of Light and L's personalities/relationship/dynamic, just like how theres are so many versions of The Long Quiet/Shifting Mound's relationship oughhhh you See the vision right

Also PLEASEEEEE IF YOU HAVE FANART YOU SHOULD FINISH IT (If you want!!) I NEED MORE STP/DN FANS TO SEE THE POTENTIAL I am actually guilty of having some lawlight stp sketches sitting in my computer as well, maybe I should clean them up a bit and post them sometime... This is genuinely one of my favorite things to think about ever with them but I haven't seen a lot of people who are fans of both dn/stp that have thought of this so I dont talk about it a lot.. oooh if you have any specific thoughts about them let me know I'm so interested to know your ideas 🔥🔥🔥

[mikhailoism]

.

[vosling]

From what I've listened and feel comfortable recommending in terms of tragic/complicated sapphic romance:

Mabel (slowburn sapphic folklore/fairytale horror, dark and twisty and set in a strange house; I think this is exactly what you're looking for)

Within the Wires (utopian dystopian horror where a worldwide government has erased the concept of family; one of my favorites and with several sapphic seasons)

Alice Isn't Dead (a truck driver searches across America for her wife she assumed was dead, but now has reason to believe is still out there)

I'm not sure how important the romantic and doomed element is compared to wanting gay/sapphic/queer women as the lead, so if the latter is cool too:

Unwell (midwestern gothic mystery with a lesbian relationship that develops during, a story about the ways to have/create family and grief; one of my favorites)

The Department of Variance of Somewhere, Ohio (shady government needs to deal with a supernatural containment breach)

KILLJAM X X X (superstar born and raised to kill people on tv in a neonsizzling cyberpunk future needs to navigate a whole new life after her promotion drops her; 18+)

I'm keeping it to what I've listened to so far. But there's so much out there; from what I gather a chunk of my to listen list also has sapphic relationships and horror/tragedy. If you're looking for more, I suggest checking out @boombox-fuckboy (its blog is such a wonderful resource) or joining the Podcast Book Club discord server!

don't get me wrong i love the doomed yaoi men of horror fiction podcasts but i feel like theres a dissonance between the amount of doomed gay male protagonist and doomed gay female protagonists. where is the doomed yuri. please

[alchemiclee]

as a fellow introvert; we are social creatures. introverts who purposefully see no one for months on end are usually just in a cycle where its been so long since they’ve hung out that it’s too intimidating for them to do anymore. i 100% feel tired after hanging out with my friends but i DO also feel happy and refreshed! tl;dr - you’re super normal lol. try to reach out to a couple people just to chat this week <3

thanks for reaching out I really appreciate it❤️ but I have to rant a bit. I allow you to ignore it!

I wish to not be a social creature because going too long without having a friend to talk to or not having someone to talk with almost daily feels bad and it's so hard to have a friend when I need one D:

i've been reaching out to people for the last few weeks or so but they don't reach back. try playing games with people but they play with their other friends or dont feel like playing. invite people to hang out but they say maybe and never give an answer or don't respond.

I don't want to bother my closest friends in our group chat too much in our group chat but the chat is mostly me sending messages with no response and even couple times saying I need a friend when I was having bad days but they didn't want to chat and I dont want to force anyone to entertain my lonely depressed ass. (especially when all I really needed was to talk about the new star rail stuff to distract me but I don't think they've finished it yet so I don't want to spoil) they live together so they always have to socialize and probably make each other tired without needing to add me to it.

so i've also been trying to reach out to new people, like joining twitch chats again for the first time in years. but that never goes well and doesn't satisfy my social needs. too many people talking at once and being the new person no one cares about and all....getting to know a new is very exhausting. but it's so hard to just be able to skip all that getting to know each other stuff jump straight into talking about a thing we both like (in this case it's star rail and cosplay and maybe art) I don't have enough already-known people to reach out to and i'm too tired to do the small talk dance until it's appropriate to jump into special interest territory. being autistic is so exhausting. I with to be one of those rare autistics I sometimes hear about that have 0 interest in social interaction at all

so as you can see, i'm trying. so hard. to the point I'm exhausting myself. it's been too much work for no payoff and makes things feel worse when the outcome isn't what I need and its constant reaching with no one grabbing my hand back. so I keep making annoying tumblr posts about it. i'm so sorry to anyone that reads my nonsense 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 this is a normal thing with me but it's usually kept to my other blog that's reserved for more serious posts like this but I tried posting here as a way to "reach out" and see if it invites any friendly friends or something but I don't think i'm doing it right...

(but I am going to a con tomorrow with someone I haven't talked to in like 2 years. but we don't have anything in common anymore so theres not much to talk about. he's the only person who responded to me after trying to reach out for like a month but I fear it will only exhaust me being around too many people and not help this gross need to have a deeper connecting socialization D:)

[megumimania]

OH BABY! — spencer reid

summary: spencer finds out why you’ve been so avoidant with him lately when it comes to having kids.

pairings: spencer reid x afab!reader

warnings/tags: mentions of pregnancy and children, spencer has baby fever, fluff, angst (somewhat), no use of y/n

a/n: tried something new with the layout dk how to feel about it, finally releasing another fic from the drafts!! the latter half of this fic was written at 5am so it’s not proofread—this was supposed to be lighthearted oops!

spencer’s dropping hints and you’re not so sure if you want to pick them up.

at first it was subtle, he’d send you videos of babies and kittens interacting—normal, typical right? then you noticed that look in his eyes when you played with henry and michael, preferring to enjoy the scene quietly with a cup of earl grey as he looked on contently.

you couldn’t miss the obvious way he looked at baby clothes with such fondness, talking about a future where’d he be chasing after a bunch of screaming, scraggling children instead of unsubs. your heart bloomed knowing that he saw you in his future, but that didn’t quell the slight anxiety in your stomach.

luckily life got in the way and the baby talk died down, with mentions of case files and paperwork taking up your nightly conversations over dinner and you were relieved, preferring to hear about spencer’s day or time in a different state for a case just like he enjoyed to hear about your day in return.

however you knew that eventually this conversation would come back into the fold.

“we never really finished our conversation,” he said one night, lazily tracing patterns on your thigh. you racked through your mind the topic you’d been skirting around for weeks was now being brought up and now there was no escaping it.

he doesn’t prod or rush, allowing you to lead the conversation—after all it was and is your choice. you put your laptop aside and sink into his touch, the quiet intimacy of it all allowing you to have the moment to think quietly for the first time in weeks.

“about having kids?” you respond, you voice a little more quiet, the gravity of the possible future finally weighing on you. spencer notices your change in tone and his gaze softens slightly, he feels like he’s struck a nerve and doesn’t know how to make you feel at ease.

he’s noticed you’ve been off lately. particularly when it comes to the subject of kids. the way you’d shut down and look uncomfortable when the topic is brought up. he spotted all of your tells (one of the perks of knowing you for so long) the slight change in pitch, the way you fidgeted with your fingers, the way you’d tense up as if your body was preparing for an attack.

yet he didn’t push, despite the voice in his head screaming for him to but he knew better than to push and prod, it wouldn’t yield any good results for either of you. so he chose to give you space. he tried to fill the uncomfortable silence here and there with a random piece of pop culture he learned from penelope or he’d send a link to an interesting article he’d read and thought you’d like.

the little acts like those that showed he still loved and supported you irregardless of what you were going through, is what helped calmed his own anxieties down a little but it still didn’t entirely erase them.

“im sorry, I’ve really scatterbrained as of late. work’s just ramped up a bit more ever since we had that department meeting a couple of weeks ago.” you tell him. which was partially the truth, spencer knew of how’d stressed you were about that meeting. he remembered how you were telling him about feeling a sense impending doom that he tried to talk you out of on the drive to work.

but that meeting had happened a couple of months ago, not in recent weeks.

he was incredibly concerned now but decided to come back to it later. he made mental notes to buy some vitamins and ensure you were eating and staying hydrated and if things got worse, he had your physician on speed dial.

“baby, are you okay?” he asks you, gently facing you towards him. you try to put on a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes as you try and calm him down, knowing that his mind was probably racing at a million miles per hour.

“i’m fine spence, just tired.” you yawn as you leaned against his shoulder, your body feeling heavy with exhaustion. spencer was not convinced at all, it was worrying him how evasive you were about everything as of late. he softly rubbed your back as he felt you finally relax for what seemed like the first time in days.

“you know you can tell me anything right, hm?” he murmurs in your ear softly as if the walls could hear him too. he felt your body move once more as you tried to make yourself more comfortable in his embrace and when you were, you finally spoke making eye contact with him.

“spence, you know i want to have kids with you more than anything—i mean you’re the only person who’d i want to do this with and i like talking about the hypotheticals but what happens when the kid is actually here? what will happen to us?”

and for the fifth time in his life spencer walter reid was stunned. the usual answer that he had ready in his back pocket could no longer be found. sure, he could rattle off studies about parental relationships post pregnancy or offer words of comfort to you but they weren’t that effective. it wouldn’t prepare either of you for the potential shift in your relationship that would occur once that baby would come into the picture.

“i don’t know.” he replied with a sigh as he affectionately squeezes your hand in his. “but what i do know is that we will make great parents together, you won’t be alone in this i promise. yeah we’ll fuck up at times or we’ll argue with each other but as long as we continue to love,cherish and respect one another and extend that same love to our future children, we’ll be okay.”

spencer’s words are reassuring, to say the least. the niggling doubts in the back of your mind threaten to dispel the sense of comfort you feel, reeling you back to your anxious state with the worst possible outcomes in mind. yet spencer’s words and subsequently his love for you is what you choose to cling onto in spite of all else because unlike the horrors and fears your mind conjured up for you like a sleeping draught, spencer’s love was real, it was tangible.

“what if we’re not talking about the hypothetical future…what if it’s real?” a voice that seems to be yours asks but it’s smaller, you hate how fragile you sound as if any single thing could shatter you into million pieces. spencer doesn’t look at you with judgment, he listens trying to follow your line of thought.

it takes him a split second to register what you were saying before he looks at you his eyes glittering with unshed tears. “you don’t mean that you’re…” he asks and you nod, the future that he’d talked about in length and thought about often was soon approaching and it was kinda surreal to think about.

and now everything made sense, the brain fog, the fatigue, the aversion to talking about kids, your lack of appetite when it came to certain foods or smells—it all made sense and he was even more annoyed that he failed to compute it all sooner, knowing how scared you must’ve felt about it all.

before he knows it hot tears stream down your face and he is at the ready, wiping them away with gentle loving words and kisses and you feel a sense of warmth flooding you. knowing that you picked no better person to love and raise your kid.it makes you, ever the skeptic, believe in fate somewhat. who knew a random coffee shop encounter on a rainy wednesday morning would lead to this down the line?

“i love you and im sorry for keeping this from you.” you sniffle as you try to gather yourself together but its no use as you break down again and spencer is ready to catch you. he feels awful seeing you cry like this.

“you don’t have to apologise.” he murmurs into your hair as he pulls you into his embrace, letting you cry into his shirt. he knows that it will be damp with tears and snot soon and he should probably give you a tissue to get everything out but it wasn’t the right time. now he was focusing on giving all the love and support you needed at that moment, to make up for the times he wasn’t there.

however later that night when you were asleep, he’d be up busy researching the best foods, hospitals, supplies, and mom and baby support groups so that these next nine months and the months that followed post partum would be less of a bumpy ride for the pair of you.

and he may have bought a quantum physics for babies book in his excitement but he couldn’t help it, even though this pregnancy came as a surprise he was ready to be the best partner to you and father to the baby that he could ever be.

[linkcharacter]

Jimblasted AU masterpost

The post for easier navigation that I'm going to keep editing and updating.

The tag for this au on my blog is jimblasted au for additional info and asks related to it!

What is it about?

This is a "what if" AU, not a fix-it. Jimmy gets blasted in the cockpit, Curly doesn't, everything else before this divergence from canon is as it was in the game.

This AU is more episodic rather than story-driven, but there is an overarching storyline with plot progression.

CWs for this AU's topics include everything in Mouthwashing: rape, abuse, blood, gore, suicide. It's nothing too graphic but be aware.

Comics

Our Captain doomed us all - Intro

+ Ever

Routine

+ Thinking

Game night?

"The good stuff"

At ease

Jackpot

Miscellaneous art

Some early sketches - first jimblasted au post!

The Blasted trio playing scrabble (+ omagpies, hotdogmchiggin)

Slumber - everyone seems to be sleeping, probably.

Hey, - Curly talking.

Jimblasted off the Forever Weed - self explanatory.

[rettrogue]

gonna be normal about lupin up top and insane about zeni at the bottom for a sec.

i love when people talk about lupin and Legacy because i. cannot. it eludes me. lupin eludes me. but for the variations of lupin where I and II's ghosts are very much prevalent, yes. simply yes. lupin III earned his rivalry with zenigata.

anyway, zaza man. good god ok one second. im fine im okay im so okay about this

i love thinking about past/transition/present zeni. you made me crack out my list op. my little zenigata timeline list that i made to try and define what the hell he is, or what he could be from special to movie to series. there are SO MANY goddamn depictions of this guy, but this was the easiest way to nail it down for me. inside you there are three zenigatas....

early zeni

- generic noir detective angstlord - tired - one of those total workaholic hardasses. no fun, no chill, ever - not even remotely pleasant to be around. runs solo because getting assigned to be his partner is some sorta Higher Form of Punishment - cruel, cold, calculating, etc etc, to a borderline villainish degree - anger issues because of-- - VERY repressed fellings for lupin. surely that tight little feeling he gets in his chest whenever he sees him must be hatred

mid zeni

- insane - tired - probably subconsciously aware that he's into lupin, but the denial is still off the charts - bombastic? that's a word - actually lets himself be happy! sorta. he's trying but its still kind of a lie - probably the simplest phase imo, if only bc he's going through a wholeass Total Restructuring right under everyone's noses

late zeni

- took over a decade but he actually mellowed out, good for him - tired - calculating in like, a cool unscary way - still has bursts of anger/insanity, just not as intense as early/mid - definitely more amicable/tolerable to be around, both on and off the case - wholly aware he loves lupin in some regard. the guy, the rivalry, the chase, the whatever. he feels love and no longer denies that it is, in fact, love

the basic gist tends to be "he was Miserable and Horrible until he Wasn't." ok ok, to be fair, there is still a degree of fatigue at play here that'd drive most other folks insane. he kinda had to become that little piece of the pie that "most" doesn't cover to compensate, hence why he's still totally miserable, just in a new special edition "indeterminably lupin" flavor (and the extra side of hypercompetency he's adopted that comes with it).

zenigata really did throw everything away for lupin. that's going to fking hurt and we're shown it fking hurts, whether it's played off for laughs or for genuine sympathy, and it's a real and resonant feeling, despite the oddness of its origin. but when presented with the choice between misery within perpetual mediocrity versus self-isolationist misery with the chance of a madcap burst of genuine, bone-deep, near-manic enjoyment here and there, we all know what this guy will end up choosing 100% of the time.

one of my favorites from the untranslated manga was this short storyline where zeni starts out as this mega cliche Serious Noir Detective Guy (from what i can gather the first panel is basically your run-of-the-mill angsty monologue about how crummy the city is) but the literal second lupin's mentioned the entire genre of his life changes.

friendlier art style. genuinely smiling. the japanese roughly translates to "playtime's over". all of that intense shit they just showed him doing?? that's nothing. easy. just another day. but then BAM. LUIPIN. AND HIS LIFE STARTS FROM HERE. HIS LIFE STARTS FROM HERE.

there's no way the more introspective variations of his character don't think about, or at the very least consider it. he doesn't wholly understand everything about himself, but he knows what he is at his core and he knows what feels right and wrong.

the split between then and now probably throws him off. there's totally embarrassment for how he behaves with lupin versus dealing with the aftermath of lupin. imo the distinction between that transition period and now would probably be that he doesn't deny when he gets out of line anymore. takes it more in stride than being all denial-crazed/cagey about it, doesn't try to write it off as entirely lupin's fault. "there's always some softcore justice in there but that was mostly me doing what i wanted to do" he says to some effect in front of the burning dozen-car freeway pileup

but yeah. now this might just be how i interpret "self" in a general sense, but his true self is whatever he is at the present moment y'know? but there's no shot in hell that'd ever cross his mind lmao. nothing's ever so simple and it's alllllll lupin's fault

Sometimes I think about how Zenigata gave up his entire life for Lupin and I feel so full of every nameless emotion. Like… that is such pure love to me.

Imagine living a life where you’re respected by your peers and good at your job and every day when you go to the store the man at the counter knows you not because you’re on tv but because you’re a stand-up guy and a pillar in your local community, and then one day you realise you could have everything and nothing every day forever INSTEAD of a guaranteed regular adequacy all the time and you go, “that works,” because it means that you get to lay eyes on someone you hate to your core and love to your core and feeling everything is better to you than feeling just a little.

I wonder if Zeni lost himself a little in that transition, and how much he ‘found’ once it evened out. I wonder if he’s closer to two selves than one, now. The person he was before Lupin is so disconnected from who he is with Lupin to me. I’m not sure I could pinpoint which one is his ‘true’ self tbh. Also like.

Do you think in the same way Zenigata lost himself— his old self— when he found Lupin, Lupin found himself when he found Zenigata? Because I figure that kind of thing must click into place when, as someone who has spent their entire life feeling like a clone of those before you, suddenly you have a driving force that is all your own. You have a person who never went after your father or your grandfather, you have someone who hears your name and thinks of you and not them and it’s like. Wow I finally have the agency I’ve been craving.

Is that love? I think this is love. Maybe this is what they mean when they talk about how a relationship requires give and take. Sigh.

[gdinthehouseee]

Bridge The Gap: CHOI SU-BONG x READER

summary: after another sleepless night, you find su-bong out alone and you offer him a place to stay… even if you don't know each other that well. not yet, at least.

word count: 4343

tags: fluff, light angst, no games au, reader smokes

ao3 link

It was another one of those nights. Another night where you had accidentally stayed up throughout most of the night, so now, trying to sleep—while the city started waking up and beginning their day—was a hopeless venture. Another night that ended up with you doom-scrolling through every social media you had on your phone, the fan in the corner barely reaching you with a blanket half strewn over your body, half practically melting onto the floor. 

Damn it. 

You figured maybe an extremely early morning snack run would help. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but was there really any point in sleeping now? At least you could stay up, and turn in early later on in hopes of fixing your sleep schedule, right?

Feeling the unusually warm night air on your bare arms, you decided to take a more scenic route. It’s not like you were doing anything important, and you had nothing to do when the sun really did rise. In fact, it was a much needed walk. If only these late night/early morning strolls could solve all of your problems. Just as you were thinking about the irony of it all, you made it onto the bridge and spotted a familiar figure—

“Su-bong?”

You would recognise his lean figure and purple hair anywhere, even when the only lighting is coming from some distant streetlamps. Leaning over the safety rail, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard your voice calling his name out. The tension was radiating off his body—well, based on what you could see under his neon green t-shirt that was a little too baggy for him. The usual fruity vape he carried everywhere was replaced by a regular cigarette. 

Everything about this sight screamed something was wrong. Very wrong. Although, you weren’t entirely sure how to approach the topic without feeling like you were overstepping. You ran in the same circles. Friends of friends. Enough for nods at parties, a clinked beer bottle here and there, the occasional shared laugh from across a room. But you’d never really talked. Not when you had only exclusively seen him at loud house parties and even louder nightclubs.

“Didn’t think anyone else was stupid enough to be out at this hour,” he murmured, dragging from his cigarette. This was the quietest you had ever heard him. His voice was lower at night. Rougher.

You gave a weak smile, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He nodded once, eyes drifting back to the water. “Yeah. Me neither.”

You stood beside him, not too close. Just enough to show you weren’t afraid of the silence. After a beat, you glanced sideways at him. 

“You should probably head home. It can be dangerous out here.”

He let out a small snort. Not a laugh—more like a breath that wanted to be one and didn’t quite make it.

“Yeah,” he said, quietly. “Thing is…”

He flicked ash over the railing, pausing like he had to decide how honest he wanted to be.

“…Home’s not really an option anymore.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

He turned his head, gave you this lazy smile like he was about to say something casual—but his eyes didn’t match it.

“Got myself kicked out.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh.”

He gave you a slow once-over, eyes dragging from your loose t-shirt down to the worn-out sneakers on your feet, like he was trying to decide whether to take you seriously or just brush off whatever was going on so he didn’t have to feel guilty for taking up your time. His head tilted slightly, studying you. Then, like flipping a switch, the corner of his mouth lifted into that familiar smirk, the kind that usually meant he was about to say something infuriating, or worse—charming on purpose. But there was a flicker of something else under it, too. Something tired. Grateful. Like maybe your offer had hit a little deeper than he wanted to admit.

“Don’t look so concerned, sweetheart. I’m not about to throw myself in the river.”

You frowned. “I wasn’t— That’s not what I thought.”

“I just didn’t feel like pretending I had somewhere else to be.” He clarified, almost proud of himself for catching you off-guard. 

You didn’t know what to say at first. Part of you wanted to scold him for making a joke out of something that was clearly hurting him more than he was letting on. The other part just wanted to offer him a blanket and a safe place to crash, even if you didn’t truly know each other. Not yet, at least. You blurted out the first thing you could think of. 

“Do you wanna come to mine?”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard.

“Just to crash,” you added, stumbling. “You can have the couch. And I have those spicy ramyeon cups everyone likes. And heat. I mean… it’s better than standing out here all night.”

He stared at you for a long moment, then leaned back on his heels, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

“You always invite sad boys off bridges into your home, or am I just special?”

You rolled your eyes, but your ears burned a little. “Don’t make it weird.”

He smiled—softly this time, no smirk. Just something tired and appreciative flickering behind it.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

The walk to your place was quiet, but not heavy. Su-bong kept pace just behind your shoulder, his steps slower than yours, like he wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere—even if he had nowhere else to go. His hands stayed deep in his cargo pockets, and every so often you’d hear the quiet tap of his supposedly limited edition sneakers on the pavement or the soft sigh of his breath.

“You always take this route?” He asked suddenly, his voice low, rough with disuse or maybe just his natural tone.

You glanced over. “Yeah. It’s quiet. And there’s a convenience store that makes decent pastries if you catch it before 6AM.”

“Huh.” He nodded slightly. “Didn’t think you were the late night wandering type.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t think you were the quiet, thinking type.”

That earned you a faint smirk. “Fair enough.”

You walked in comfortable silence for a few more streets. The city was soft at this hour—neon lights buzzing like lullabies and apartment windows glowing like tiny stories you’d never get to read. You weren’t sure why you weren’t more nervous. Maybe it was the hour. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t once tried to act cool about what he was going through, even if he was trying to laugh it off.

When you reached the front of your building, you slowed to a stop and glanced at him again, thumb hesitating near the key code.

“You sure?” You asked. “I meant it when I said you could crash, but… if it’s weird or whatever—”

He gave a soft scoff, barely shaking his head as he stepped closer, gaze flicking between the building and you.

“I mean, let’s see—sleep on the street or sleep in a pretty girl’s place,” he drawled, lips curling. “Doesn’t seem like a hard decision, does it?”

You rolled your eyes, but your face warmed anyway. “You’re lucky I feel bad for you.”

“Oh, don’t ruin the fantasy,” he murmured, grin widening as he leaned lazily against the wall beside the entrance.

You punched in the code, trying not to let him see you smile too hard. The door clicked open with a soft beep, and you led the way up the short flight of stairs to your apartment. You could feel him behind you, not looming, exactly, but present—quiet in a way that still took up space.

Inside, the warmth of your place hit immediately. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but it was yours. Soft lighting, a few half-filled bookshelves, a small couch with a throw blanket tossed across the back, and a faint scent of something clean—lavender, maybe, or laundry detergent. Su-bong stood just inside the door for a moment, his hands still in his pockets as he scanned the space. His eyes lingered on a stack of records by the shelf, the open notebook on your coffee table, the slippers by the door that didn’t match.

“Didn’t expect your place to feel like this,” he said eventually, not looking at you.

You raised a brow as you slipped off your shoes. “Like what?”

He shrugged, stepping further in. “Like… someone actually lives here.”

You snorted. “Wow. Thanks.”

He gave a low chuckle and kicked off his shoes without being asked, leaving them neatly by the door. You could tell he was trying not to seem like he was looking for a place to land, but his eyes kept flicking to the couch, the floor cushions, anywhere he might sit without intruding. Had the context not been depressing, you would have found it cute.

“Sit wherever,” you said, heading into the small kitchen nook. “I’m gonna make something hot. You want tea? Or like… sad instant noodles?”

“Sad noodles,” he said immediately, settling onto the edge of the couch. “Tea feels too well-adjusted.”

You laughed under your breath, pulling down a couple of ramen bowls. “Sad noodles it is.”

Behind you, you could hear him shifting, the soft creak of the couch as he leaned back just a little. He didn’t talk while the water boiled—just watched the way you moved in your space, like he was still trying to piece together who you were outside of mutual friends and party lighting.

When you handed him the steaming bowl a few minutes later, he took it with both hands.

“Thanks,” he said, voice softer now. Less performative.

You sat down a cushion away from him, tucking your legs under yourself and blowing on your own noodles.

Neither of you said anything right away, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… still. Like maybe this was the first time in a long while someone had made space for him to be quiet.

The noodles were too hot, but neither of you complained.

Su-bong ate like someone who hadn’t had a warm meal in longer than he’d admit, slurping with none of his usual smugness. It made you weirdly protective—like maybe the cocky front was wearing thin now that he was off the street and under soft lighting with food in his hands.

You didn’t talk for a while. The silence stretched, not tense, just heavy with the kind of calm that only comes around after sunrise. You glanced over once to find him staring into his bowl, chopsticks paused midair, like he’d forgotten what he was doing.

“You always wander around bridges at night?” You asked quietly, nudging the silence just a little.

“Only when I get kicked out of places.”

You blinked, pausing mid-bite. His tone was flat—too casual, like he’d said it a hundred times. But his eyes stayed fixed on his own bowl like he didn’t want to see your reaction.

“…Your mother?” You asked gently.

He nodded once. “Got tired of my shit, I guess.”

The way he said it was light, like it wasn’t a big deal, but you caught the way his knee bounced slightly. You didn’t try to force sympathy into the air. That wasn’t what he needed right now. Instead, you nudged his shoulder with yours, just enough to make him glance over.

“Well,” you said, in a tone just as casual as his, “my place isn’t fancy, but you’re not sleeping outside. So congrats. You’ve been upgraded to shitty couch privileges.”

That pulled a small, tired laugh from him—barely there, but real. He looked over at you, then back down at the nearly-empty bowl in his lap.

“…Thanks,” he said again, quieter this time. But then, after a beat, he added, almost like he didn’t mean to out loud, “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Your eyes flicked over to him. He didn’t look at you when he said it. And something about the way his voice dropped just slightly made your chest ache.

You set your bowl down on the coffee table and leaned back on your palms, giving him space to breathe. “I know I didn’t,” you said. “But I wanted to.”

That was it. No big emotional speech. No digging deeper than he was ready for. For a second, he just sat there, looking at the floor like he was trying to figure out how to process being wanted anywhere. Then he let out a slow breath and leaned back beside you, bowl balanced loosely in one hand, the other resting in his lap.

“Your couch better be as soft as your heart,” he mumbled.

“I take it back. Go sleep on the bridge.” You joked, certainly not meaning it. 

He smiled and this time, it didn’t feel like a mask. It just felt like him.

After the food, the calm settled deeper. Su-bong didn’t seem in a rush to stand, and you didn’t push him. But eventually, you rose and stretched, giving him a small smile as you made your way to the hallway closet. He stayed on the couch, eyes following you this time, quieter than before. You came back with a pillow and a thick grey blanket—well-worn but clean, the kind you always ended up pulling out when nights got too cold. You handed it to him without a word, letting him take it from your arms. He held the blanket for a second, fingers brushing over the edges like he didn’t know what to do with something soft.

“I’ll grab you some clothes if you want,” you offered, thumb hooked toward your room.

He shook his head, still staring at the fabric in his lap. “This is… fine.”

You nodded, hesitating as you watched him unfold the blanket and start to spread it over the couch like someone who didn’t quite believe it was meant for him.

“You okay?” You asked softly.

He didn’t answer right away. Just leaned back and looked up at the ceiling like he might find something there to anchor him.

“Yeah, just… forgot what this felt like.”

You swallowed, chest tightening a little.

“You don’t have to talk,” you said gently. “Not tonight. Just rest.”

He looked at you then—really looked—and for a second, his whole face softened. There was something in his eyes, some unspoken thought sitting right on the tip of his tongue. You could see him almost say it. Almost let it fall. But instead, he just gave a faint smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and said, “You’re nicer than you look, you know.”

You smirked. “I have my moments, I guess.”

That earned a genuine laugh, quiet and low.

You turned to head toward your room, the smile still tugging at your lips. But as you walked away, you felt his gaze still on you—heavy, lingering, like he wasn’t ready for the silence to swallow the space you left behind. Like part of him was afraid that when he woke up, it would all be gone again. At your bedroom door, you paused, hand resting on the frame.

“If you need anything,” you said over your shoulder, “I’m just down the hall.”

“Yeah… okay.”

But you heard the way his voice dipped again. Like he already needed something, but didn’t know how to ask for it yet.

Su-bong managed to get a couple hours of some light rest, chalking it down to the fact he had never been here before. Not just physically, at your place, but he had never felt so low before. Never felt more helpless. He hated it. But he was too tired to pretend like he was fine. Too closed off to directly ask for help. Yet, he realised, if there was anyone in your shared circle of friends to offer help without tearing into him or expecting something in return, it would be you. 

He saw it in the way you looked after the people who had exceeded their limits at the many parties you’ve both attended, whether it be holding back a girl’s hair as she threw up into the toilet bowl and making sure she got home safe, or ensuring the people weren’t alone if they got paranoid after taking hallucinogens. It has always been you.

Hours later, when Su-bong stirred, the first thing he registered was the warmth.

A strange kind of warmth—not stifling like too many layers, or sharp like heat trapped in a subway tunnel. This was gentle. Still. The kind of warmth that soaked into skin without asking for anything back. It curled around him under the weight of the blanket, wrapped in the scent of detergent and something faintly floral. Yours, he guessed.

His senses returned one by one. The couch beneath him, lumpy in places but leagues better than concrete. The dull ache in his shoulder from sleeping in one position too long. The faint murmur of the city beyond the windows—cars humming in the distance, a dog barking half-heartedly down the block.

And then—

Cigarette smoke.

Soft. Fresh. Just enough to ghost through the cracked window above the balcony door, curling into the living room like it belonged there. He blinked slowly, the light already different. The kind of light that only came just before sunrise—cool and blue near the floor, streaks of warm gold bleeding across the ceiling like brushstrokes. He didn’t move right away. Just lay there, eyes on the slanted light, letting the silence press against his ribs.

Eventually, he sat up. The blanket slipped from his shoulders, pooling in his lap, and he scrubbed a hand over his face, palm dragging along the stubble on his jaw. His hair was a mess. His t-shirt clung to one side of his neck with sleep-sweat, and his mouth was dry. But he moved anyway, quiet as he padded toward the balcony, bare feet brushing against cool floorboards.

Through the glass, he saw you.

You were perched on the narrow ledge of the balcony railing, one foot tucked up, the other dangling over the side. Your hoodie swallowed your frame, sleeves pushed up to your elbows, a single lit cigarette balanced between your fingers. The smoke swirled around your wrist in slow, lazy spirals, catching the pink edges of dawn like it was part of the sky itself.

You didn’t look tense.

You looked… far away.

He opened the door with a soft click, the cool morning air slipping in as he stepped outside.

“You smoke?” He asked, voice rough with sleep.

You didn’t jump. Just glanced over your shoulder and offered the faintest shrug.

“Sometimes…”

He hummed, stepping out fully onto the balcony beside you. The railing creaked under your shifting weight, and he caught the way your eyes returned to the horizon, smoke curling from your mouth on an exhale.

“Didn’t peg you for it,” he said, leaning against the wall just beside the railing. “Thought you were all herbal tea and incense.”

You cracked a small smile, still looking ahead. “Depends on the day.”

He let out a quiet breath, the corner of his mouth twitching. The cigarette burned between your fingers, the tip glowing orange in the pale morning. He didn’t reach for it. Not yet. He just watched you. Watched the way the early light caught in your lashes. The way your expression softened when you weren’t aware of being seen. You looked a little tired, sure—but something about you in this light, at this hour, with no noise and no walls up.

It made his chest ache in a strange, unplaceable way.

And maybe it was the fog of sleep still clinging to his mind. Or maybe it was something else entirely. But for once, Su-bong didn’t try to fill the silence. He just stood there beside you, watching the city stretch awake beneath a soft pink sky, and wondered why it suddenly didn’t feel so bad to stay still.

You didn’t speak right away. Just took another drag, slow and even, exhaling toward the street below like you were releasing a thought you didn’t want to say out loud. Beside you, Su-bong shifted—just enough to reach, fingers brushing yours as he took the cigarette from between them. His touch was unhurried, deliberate, like he was giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted to.

You didn’t.

He brought it to his lips, eyes fixed on the skyline as he inhaled.

“Not bad,” he muttered, smoke curling from the edge of his mouth. “I figured if you smoked, it’d be some overpriced imported shit that burns out in two pulls.”

“That was very specific.”

“Yeah, well. I have opinions.”

He turned slightly toward you now, leaning his shoulder against the wall, one arm crossed over his chest while the other held the cigarette loosely at his side. The air between you was light, but not empty. There was something weightier beneath it—unspoken but present. A mutual awareness. A kind of closeness born from the quiet, from the softness of being seen in the early hours, before either of you could armour back up.

He passed the cigarette back. But instead of pulling his hand away, his knuckles lingered near yours.

“You always up like this?” He asked.

You glanced at him, smoke slipping between your lips as you tilted your head. “Could ask you the same thing.”

“Guess I’m not the only insomniac with poor coping mechanisms.”

The corner of your mouth twitched. “Wouldn’t call sharing a cigarette with a half-asleep bad boy my usual routine, no.”

“Bad boy, huh?” He raised a brow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “What gave it away? The chain, or the crippling emotional repression?”

You laughed—quiet, but real.

He watched you for a moment, eyes softening just a fraction.

“...Thanks,” he said suddenly, voice a little rougher now. “For letting me crash. I mean it.”

You didn’t tease him for the shift in tone. Didn’t deflect. You just nodded once, offering him the cigarette again. He took it—maybe a little closer this time. The silence stretching warm and full between you both now, as the sun finally began to crest the edge of the city.

After he handed the cigarette back and you took the last pull, you stubbed the cigarette out, flicking it into the ashtray with a little click before leaning both arms on the balcony rail. The city was slowly warming to life in the soft blush of dawn, but you were still in the quiet part of the morning—the part where the streets were mostly empty and everything felt like a secret.

Beside you, Su-bong stretched, his shoulder brushing yours as he let out a slow breath. You didn’t look at him when you spoke.

“…If you don’t have anywhere else to go, you could stay here for a while,” you said, voice calm. Unassuming. “At least until you figure things out. You don’t have to keep sleeping on benches or couches or wherever.”

There was a pause—too long to be casual.

“Ah, so you’re saying you do want me around,” he drawled, smirk sliding back into place like it never left. “Was wondering how long it’d take before you cracked.”

You glanced at him, unimpressed. “Wow. And here I was, thinking this was a genuine offer.”

“Oh, it’s very genuine,” he said, turning toward you. “But now I’m starting to suspect you’ve got ulterior motives.”

“Like what?”

He leaned in slightly, eyes flicking over your face. “Maybe you just want to watch me walk around your apartment shirtless.”

“Right. That must be it.” You retorted, sarcasm practically dripping from your voice.

“Can’t blame you,” he added, smug. “I’m great morning entertainment. Better than coffee.”

You tried to hide your smile. Failed. “Do you ever stop flirting?”

“Only when I’m sleeping. Maybe.”

The teasing should’ve irritated you. But instead, it just felt like… him. A wall made of charm, built fast and wide to keep things at a safe distance. So you stayed quiet for a moment, watching the street far below. When you spoke again, your tone was softer. Quieter.

“I meant it, Su-bong. You don’t have to keep pretending like it’s all fine.”

He blinked, and though the smirk didn’t disappear entirely, something gentler curled at the edges of it. “Didn’t realize I was pretending.”

“You joke when you’re uncomfortable.”

“You psychoanalysing me now?”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” you said, nudging his elbow with yours. “Seriously. You can stay. We’ll go to the store later, pick up whatever you need. Toothbrush, clothes, snacks. Maybe even a boring mug to match mine.”

He looked at you, really looked, and for a second you saw it—how close he was to brushing it off again. Making another comment. Putting the mask right back on. But he didn’t. Instead, he let his hand drop to his side, fingers twitching like they wanted something to do. “You’re dangerous,” he murmured, voice low.

“Why?”

“Because I like being around you,” he said, and there was no smirk this time. Just honesty, surprisingly bare. “Too damn much.”

You tried not to let your breath hitch. “That’s not dangerous.”

He tilted his head. “Not to you, sweetheart.”

You looked at him for a long second before reaching for the sliding glass door. “Come on, Shakespeare. Let’s get you inside before you start reciting poetry.”

He chuckled and followed you in, slower this time. When he passed by, he dipped close enough for his breath to skim your ear.

“You sure you’re ready for me to stick around?” He murmured, voice like silk.

You didn’t flinch.

“You sure you’re ready for someone who gives a shit?” You shot back without missing a beat.

That stopped him in his tracks. Just for a second. And then he smiled—smaller than before, softer.

“…Guess we’re about to find out.”

lmk if you'd like to be added or removed now that im making squid game fics too

taglist: @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @mattsturniolosbabymama @redhoodedtoad @bettelaboure @cinnamonbear22 @xxxicddbr88 @infinetlyforgotten @babygirlewis @loveesiren @tulentiy @babyrvis @ldydeath @wcnderlands @eru-vande @breakmeoff @petersasteria @aizshallnotbefound @sevendaysummer @ttturnitup @mashtatosworld @ilovethe141 

[wholoveseggs]

hey girl! i was wondering if you could write some angst - maybe like an unrequited love? like the reader is in love with Elijah but is too shy to tell him, and he doesn’t know about her feelings towards him because he’s too focused on Hayley? pretty please 🫶🏻

Crush

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You have quite the crush on Rebekah's big brother, and you find yourself lost in the tangled web of unreciprocated feelings, yearning for a love that may never be yours.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag, I may have gone a little off topic with this one ♡♡

6.7k words - Warnings: angst, masturbation, smut, corsets, Elijah being a history nerd and using it to flirt, Rebekah being the best (as always)

{Moodboard->}

You were excited to meet Rebekah’s infamous family. You thought Klaus, as notorious as he was, would intrigue you the most. However, the moment you laid eyes on him you knew you were doomed. Elijah. His charming smile, his piercing dark eyes and his strong hands. It took all your self-control not to blush and look away like some schoolgirl.

He was the first person who greeted you, his hand lingered in yours a moment longer than what could be considered polite and it sent butterflies straight into your stomach.

You were so gone, it was almost embarrassing. You couldn't help it, you were sure that anyone else would fall head over heels for him too.

But there was only one small problem: Elijah had eyes for another, Hayley Marshall. You tried not to be bitter, after all, they were just friends. However, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked at her, or the way she leaned into his touch. They way they would sometimes have entire conversations with their eyes. You couldn't stand it.

You had been so sure you had a chance. He had been flirting with you, right? But then you noticed that he was that way will everyone. He would flirt and smile, then gaze at you in a way that just oozed sex appeal.

You were staying in the compound with Rebekah and going to school full time. You enjoyed spending your free time reading, the Mikaelsons had an incredible collection of books and you had read a lot of them.

You were sitting at the table, a large book on medieval history in front of you. You were working on a research paper on romanticism in the middle ages. It was difficult, especially because there wasn't much written about that subject from this time period.

You considered asking Rebekah about it, but you knew it was a sore subject for her, so you decided against it.

You were getting ready to give up and start a new project when Elijah entered the room. You blushed at the sight of him, he was wearing a black T-shirt, and jeans. Looking the most casual you had ever seen him.

He gave you a friendly nod and headed to the bookshelf. He looked through the books for a moment, before taking one from the shelf. He placed it on the table before sitting across from you and beginning to read.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, both of you reading and not making a sound. You were surprised that you weren't more uncomfortable. The only sounds were the occasional page turn and the occasional noise from the city outside.

You got lost in your work again and came across an interesting paragraph about how poetry was used often to court potential partners. You wondered if Elijah had done that back then. He seemed like the kind of guy who would have.

The thought of Elijah reading you poetry made your heart skip a beat. You imagined him leaning in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered words of affection and lust.

Your eyes glanced up, and your breath hitched when you realized he was staring at you. You flushed, quickly looking back at your work.

He chuckled softly and reached out, tapping the top of your textbook.

"Interesting choice of reading material." He said.

You gave him a small smile, "I'm trying to write a research paper on the Middle Ages." You replied. "About romance and poetry."

"Ah, yes." He said with a smirk, "I remember that time period fondly."

You giggled, "Of course you do. You were probably the biggest player around."

He gave you an odd look, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. His eyes looked you up and down, and you could see a flash of something indecipherable cross them. You were surprised by how intense his gaze was, and felt your cheeks growing hot, regretting opening your mouth.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked, his tone teasing.

"I... uh..." You stammered, not sure how to respond. "You just seem like the type who'd have his pick of women."

Elijah smirked, his dark eyes meeting yours. "And why would you think that?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallowed nervously, and his eyes narrowed slightly. You realized he was toying with you, and that he could hear your heartbeat quickening. You weren't going to let him win.

"I think you know why." You said, your voice surprisingly steady.

Elijah chuckled, his eyes roaming over your body once again. He put his hand on this chin and looked at you thoughtfully. "In the middle ages I was actually quite solitary." He said, a smirk still playing on his lips.

"What was it like back then?" You asked, trying to steer the conversation away from your previous comment.

Elijah's expression softened slightly, and his gaze seemed far away. "It was a different time." He said wistfully.

You couldn't help but stare at him. His eyes were filled with such pain and sadness. You knew he'd experienced terrible things, and that it must've been difficult for him. But somehow he'd managed to survive and maintain his humanity, something that very few vampires could say.

"What was it like to date -sorry- court someone back then? You asked, hoping to get a better understanding of him.

"Women were often married off when they were very young." Elijah said, a grim expression on his face. "They had no say in the matter. But there were ways around it."

He paused, his eyes meeting yours, and a slow smile spread across his lips. "It wasn't easy to be alone with a woman, not even for a moment. If you wanted to seduce her, you had to be creative."

Your face turned a deep shade of crimson, and you were suddenly thankful for the dim lighting. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, and he chuckled softly, clearly amused by your discomfort.

"What we are doing right now, alone in this room," he said, his voice low and seductive, "it wouldn't be allowed. Not without a chaperone. And if we were discovered, the consequences would be severe."

His eyes flashed with desire, and you found yourself unable to look away.

"What would they do?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"Well," he said, his tone mischievous, "you'd have to marry me, of course."

Your eyes widened in shock, and he laughed loudly, enjoying the reaction he'd gotten from you.

You felt flustered and embarrassed, but also oddly flattered. You couldn't believe he'd actually suggested that, and the thought of it made your heart race.

You wondered if he was joking, but you didn't dare ask. You weren't sure you could handle the answer.

The two of you sat quietly for a moment, before Hayley walked in holding Hope. She gave Elijah a questioning look and he stood, walking over to her. You watched as he placed a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead.

"Can you watch her for a few hours? They need me in the bayou," she asked him, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Of course." He replied, giving her a small smile.

She smiled gratefully, placing a hand on his cheek. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft and affectionate.

Elijah took Hope from Hayley's arms and cradled her gently. Giving her a wide smile and making funny faces, causing her to giggle. You couldn't help but smile. He was so sweet with her.

Hayley looked from you to Elijah, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "See you later." She said, before walking away.

Elijah nodded, his gaze lingering on her a moment before turning back to you. You looked down at your textbook, feeling guilty and jealous all at once.

He walked over to the couch and sat down, Hope still in his arms. You couldn't help but stare at the two of them. Elijah held his niece with such tenderness, and Hope seemed completely content in his arms. He was rocking her back and forth, humming a soft tune under his breath.

You'd never seen anything more beautiful.

Hope's eyes slowly started to droop, and Elijah smiled down at her. He continued to hum and rock her until her eyes finally closed, and she was asleep.

"You are so good with her." You said, unable to hold back the compliment.

He smiled, and his eyes met yours. You felt your heart skip a beat, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed.

You were sure he could hear it.

"Thank you," he said, not taking his eyes off Hope.

You tried to focus on your work, but it was difficult. Your mind kept wandering, and you found yourself glancing over at him more and more.

"I better go put her down, have a nice night." He said, standing up with Hope in his arms and heading towards the nursery.

"You too," you replied, smiling up at him.

Once he was gone, you let out a sigh and sank back into the couch. Your heart was still racing, and you were sure your face was still bright red.

It was the first time the two of you had been alone together. The first time you'd gotten a glimpse of his softer side.

And it made you want him even more.

Over the next few weeks you kept finding yourself alone with him. In the kitchen, in the library, on the balcony. It was getting harder and harder to hide your feelings, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep it up.

He would ask you questions about your paper, and the two of you would talk for hours. He would listen to your ideas and tell you of his own experiences in the Middle Ages.

You loved how passionate he was about everything. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he enjoyed.

You wondered if he could see how you were falling for him, if he noticed how you blushed whenever he touched you. You were sure he did.

You knew it was foolish, but you couldn't help it. Every time you were around him, you couldn't stop yourself from imagining what it would be like to kiss him, to touch him. To be with him.

But he didn't seem interested, he didn't look at you the way he looked at Hayley.

One night, the two of you were sitting on the balcony, watching the stars. He was telling you a story of how he courted a woman who was to be wed to another, he would compel her betrothed to forget that he was around her.

"I don't miss much about those times, everything smelled terrible and fanaticism ran rampant, but there was something about the secrecy and the scandal that made it all..." He paused, looking for the right word, "exciting."

You chuckled, "I'm sure. But the fact that a lady could be forced to marry a man she didn't want... that sounds horrible."

"It was," Elijah agreed, "but not everyone was unhappy. Some women preferred it."

"Why?" You asked, your brows furrowing.

"Some liked the idea of being taken care of, of not having to make decisions or choices." He shrugged. "Others simply liked the security."

"What do you think?" You asked.

He turned to look at you, his eyes studying your face intently. "I think it was wrong. No woman should be forced into a marriage she doesn't want. No one should have that much power over another person."

You smiled, glad that he held similar opinions to your own. 

"But I do miss the corsets, the anticipation when taking one off, pulling the ribbons and slowly revealing the soft, delicate skin underneath," his eyes met yours, his gaze intense. "It was like unwrapping a gift, a treasure."

You couldn't stop yourself from blushing, his words making your heart race.

He chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He took a sip of his bourbon and leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Do you have enough information for your paper now?" He asked.

You smiled and nodded, "yes, but I don't know how to credit my sources," you chuckled. "I can't tell my professor that I'm writing a paper on the middle ages based on the first hand account of a vampire I know," you grinned.

"Hmmm, yes, I suppose that would be difficult." He said, his tone teasing. "How about you quote a 'unique source' that has a vast knowledge of the subject and a passion for it?"

You laughed, "That might work."

"Good," he said, offering you his hand. "Shall we?"

You looked at him quizzically, "where are we going?"

He smirked, "to the 14th century, of course."

"What?" You said, staring at him in disbelief.

"First hand experience is far more educational than anything written down," he said, taking your hand in his.

"You ready?" He asked, his expression serious.

You bit your lip nervously, unsure of what was about to happen, but you trusted him.

"Ready."

You were immediately plunged into his memories. He was standing in a large stone hall, surrounded by people in period clothing. There was laughter and music, and the scent of roasted meat and wine filled the air.

You watched as Elijah walked through the crowd, smiling and greeting people as he passed. He was dressed in a dark red tunic, and his hair was slicked back into a ponytail. It was an amusing haircut for him, but it was the fashion back then.

You followed him as he made his way towards a woman standing in a corner. She was beautiful, her dark hair was braided into a crown on her head, and she was wearing a yellow gown with red embroidery.

Elijah stood next to her, his hand resting on her arm. She turned to look at him, her eyes filled with longing. A feeling you knew well.

"My Lady," he said, bowing his head.

"Sir," she said, her voice soft and sensual.

"Would you care to dance?" He asked, offering her his hand.

She hesitated, her gaze shifting towards a man who was watching them intently.

"I don't think my husband would approve."

"You worry too much," Elijah said, taking her hand and leading her onto the dance floor.

They began to move together, their bodies swaying in perfect sync. You couldn't tear your eyes away, watching the two of them. They moved with such grace and elegance, it was like watching a dance meant only for the two of them.

A sudden movement caught your eye, and you saw the woman's husband storming towards the couple. His eyes were filled with rage, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

"Elijah," you said, hoping he could hear you.

But he didn't respond, instead he continued to dance with the woman, ignoring her husband's fury. When the husband reached them, Elijah simply grabbed the man and compelled him.

"I'm going to take a walk with your wife, she will be back before the sun comes up."

He let go of the man, who immediately walked away, not saying a word. Elijah offered his hand to the woman, and she took it, a small smile playing on her lips.

They walked out of the castle together, and you found yourself following behind. You watched as they strolled through the gardens, their hands entwined. They stopped under a large oak tree, and Elijah pulled her close, kissing her deeply.

You were mesmerized by the scene, your heart aching for the man you had grown to love. You wished it was you in her place. You wished he would kiss you like that.

You heard Elijah's voice, but it wasn't coming from the version in front of you. "I courted her for months, sneaking into her chambers, bringing her flowers and trinkets," he chuckled. "It was rather clandestine and exciting."

"What happened?" You asked, wanting to know the ending.

"She became pregnant with her husband's child." He said, his voice low and full of regret.

Your heart ached for him, and for the woman who had been forced to marry another man. The memory faded and you returned to the present, still holding Elijah's hand.

"I'm sorry," you said, not knowing what else to say.

He smiled, "It's alright, it was a long time ago."

"It's lonely isn't it? Being a vampire?" You asked.

He was quiet for a moment, before answering. "Yes. I think it's why I value my family so much," his gaze shifted to yours, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "And why I treasure our friendship."

"Me too," you said softly, smiling up at him.

You both sat in silence for a while, watching the stars and enjoying each other's company. After a while, Elijah stood, fixing his suit jacket and giving you a smile. "I hope you get an A on your paper."

You grinned, "Thanks for the help, Elijah. Goodnight."

You went to your room, lying awake in the dark. Your thoughts consumed with him, the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you. The memory he had shared with you, it was so personal, and yet he didn't mind that you were there.

Your mind wandered to the way he was kissing that woman in the garden. His lips pressing against hers, his hands gripping her waist, his body flush against hers. You could see the way her head fell back, her eyes fluttering shut. You could feel the heat between them.

Your skin began to flush, and you felt a warmth between your legs. You had never felt such an intense desire for someone before, but there was no denying it.

You wanted him, you wanted to experience that kind of passion, that kind of intimacy.

Your hand trailed down your body, slowly slipping under the waistband of your panties. Your fingers brushing against your most sensitive spot. You gasped at the sensation, biting your lip as you started to circle your finger slowly.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you pictured him above you, his body pressed against yours as he kissed your neck and shoulders. Your hand moving faster as you imagined what his mouth would feel like on your skin, what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against yours.

You gasped, arching your back as you felt yourself coming undone, his name on your lips as you imagined him touching you.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, and you felt the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you. It was a satisfying release, but it left you wanting more.

You were determined to have him, to taste him, to feel him inside of you. You were going to make him yours.

You practically skipped into the compound, giddy and excited to share your A+ grade on your paper. Elijah had been so helpful, and you couldn't wait to show him.

You heard voices coming from the courtyard, and you hurried past the gate, hoping to find him. You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him, his arms wrapped around Hayley.

Her hand was tangled in his hair, and her body was pressed against his. Their eyes were closed, and their lips were locked in a passionate kiss.

You couldn't move. Your heart was shattered. You'd been foolish, thinking you had a chance with him. He was just being nice in his typical flirty way, and you were dumb enough to think it meant more. You'd just been reading into things.

You felt tears sting your eyes, and you quickly walked past them and up to your room. You collapsed onto the bed, your heart broken.

You cried, unable to hold back the pain.

You felt so stupid.

He didn't like you, he was just being friendly. And you'd fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. How could you possibly believe someone like him could ever like someone like you?

You heard a quiet knock at your door and Rebekah walked in, she had heard you crying and came to check on you.

"Hey, are you alright?" She asked, sitting down on the bed beside you.

"I'm fine." You said, your voice hoarse.

"Just crying for fun then?" She said, giving you a knowing look.

You sighed and sat up, wiping the tears from your face. "I'm just being silly," you said, shaking your head.

She sat down next to you and pulled you into a hug, which caused you to cry even more. She rubbed your back, trying to comfort you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No, I just need to get over it." You said, your voice breaking.

"Get over what darling?" Rebekah asked, her eyes filled with concern.

"Elijah." You said, wiping away your tears.

She looked at you, confusion written all over her face.

"I may have a bit of a crush on your brother." You confessed.

She laughed, "Oh is that all? I thought you were going to say something terrible."

"What? You aren't surprised?" You asked, staring at her in disbelief.

"You're not exactly subtle, darling." She chuckled. "Your heart beats faster, making your cheeks flush, whenever he's near. And your eyes light up like Christmas morning whenever he talks to you. It's rather obvious."

You couldn't believe she had noticed all that. Damn vampires and their heightened senses, you were mortified. If Rebekah noticed then Elijah definitely did as well.

You buried your face in your hands, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"So why the tears?" Rebekah asked, patting you on the shoulder.

"Because I just saw him kissing Hayley."

Rebekah was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. She put her arm around your shoulders.

"That might not mean anything, they're just friends. They have a complicated history," she explained.

You shook your head, "No, I saw the way he looked at her, the way she kissed him. There's definitely something between them, and it's more than just friendship."

Rebekah sighed and hugged you again."He's an idiot, always been that way around women. Sometimes I think it's more of a blind spot for him than Klaus," she said, her voice soothing.

You chuckled and wiped away your tears.

"He'll come around eventually," she said, smiling softly. "He just needs time to figure it out."

"Figure what out?" You asked, sniffling.

"That you're the perfect girl for him," she said, giving you an affectionate smile.

You smiled back and hugged her, thankful for her support. You felt a little better, and you were glad that she didn't judge you.

"I have an idea, a way for you to make him see what a catch you are," Rebekah said, her eyes glinting.

"Really?" You asked, excited at the prospect.

"Yes and it will be a chance for you to get him alone, away from Hayley," she smirked.

"I don't want to be that girl..," you started, not sure if you should meddle.

"I am," she grinned.

You chuckled, and Rebekah began telling you the plan. You listened intently, feeling better already. You were excited, and nervous.

But mostly excited.

Rebekah's idea was to have a costume party, she loved any excuse to throw one. It also gave you a reason to dress up, to catch Elijah's eye.

You went shopping with Rebekah, she wanted to make sure you got something that would suit your figure. She asked you what sort of theme it should be and you couldn't resist choosing one that you knew well: a medieval theme.

You found a beautiful, off the shoulder, forest green dress, with a tight laced corset that had gold threading, and long, flowing, bell sleeves. It was the perfect combination of modern and historical and it made your tits look fantastic.

Rebekah had gone with a blue version of the same dress, and the two of you were having a blast getting ready. She helped you style your hair for the night and even did your makeup, making sure that your look would draw Elijah's eye.

"Ready?" She asked, as the two of you looked at yourselves in the mirror.

"Yes," you said, trying to mask your nerves.

The two of you made your way down to the courtyard, where the party was in full swing.

Everyone was dressed in costumes from various time periods, and the atmosphere was electric. The music was loud, and people were dancing, laughing, and having a good time.

You saw Hayley and Klaus talking to some guests, and your eyes wandered around the room, looking for Elijah.

He was standing by the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd. He looked incredible, his dark hair perfectly styled, wearing a black velvet suit jacket with a high collar, a blue cravat and a white dress shirt.

Hayley walked up to you and Rebekah, and complimented the both of you on your dresses. She was dressed in a Victorian era gown, complete with a corset and a large bustle.

"So, where's Elijah tonight?" Rebekah asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, he's around here somewhere," Hayley said bitterly, glancing around the room.

You felt a twinge of excitement. She sounded irritated by him. Maybe she wasn't happy in their relationship.

"What's wrong ?" Rebekah asked her, squeezing your hand subtly. You loved how sneaky she could be sometimes.

"It's just," Hayley paused, her eyes narrowing as she thought about her answer. "I don't think he's very interested in a relationship with me, he's been avoiding me all night."

Rebekah and you shared a look, a smirk playing on your lips.

"He's a hard one to read, that's for sure," you said, trying to sound sympathetic.

"I'm sorry to hear that darling, but perhaps its for the best," Rebekah added.

"Maybe, I just thought we were on the same page, I thought we had something," Hayley said, a pout forming on her lips.

You could see the pain in her eyes, and you couldn't help but feel sorry for her. You knew exactly how she felt.

"You're a gorgeous woman, and any man would be lucky to have you," Rebekah said, her voice genuine.

"Thanks," Hayley said, a sad smile on her face. "There is this guy here, his name is Jack, we've been flirting all night and he wants to dance with me," she said, looking over at a tall, handsome man in a knight costume.

"Then go," Rebekah said, smiling at her.

"Yeah, you deserve some fun," you said, trying not to sound too happy that Elijah might be single.

"Alright, I'm gonna do it," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

She walked off, and Rebekah turned to you, her face breaking into a wide grin.

"How unfortunate for Hayley, how fortunate for you," she smirked.

You couldn't help but smile.

"Go, now's your chance, he's all alone." Rebekah said, her eyes scanning the room.

"I'm not going to make a fool of myself," you said, shaking your head.

"You're not going to make a fool of yourself darling, you're going to have a wonderful time," she said, giving you a little shove.

You took a deep breath and headed toward Elijah, your heart racing. He looked very similar to how he dressed in the memory he shared with you, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

He was standing alone by the bar, his gaze distant. You walked up to him and smiled, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

"Hey," you said, trying to sound casual. "Nice outfit, all you are missing is the ponytail,” you added, grinning at him.

"Some things are better left in the past," he teased, his eyes wandering over your dress. "You look lovely," he added, a small smile on his face.

"You like the corset?" You asked, biting your lip and giving him a twirl. You always felt so giddy around him, it made you do silly things, like this.

His eyes widened, and a smirk spread across his face. "Yes, it's quite flattering," he said, his gaze lingering on your breasts.

You blushed but maintained your composure, Elijah liked confident women, and you were going to show him what he was missing.

"Does it remind you of the era?" You asked, a flirty tone in your voice.

"No, it's far too revealing for the time period," he smirked.

"Oh, really? You didn't think this was sexy in the middle ages?" You asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that," he chuckled.

"Good," you smiled, "I worked hard on this outfit."

He looked at you, his face full of curiosity.

"You are definitely thorough in your research," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"I forgot to tell you I got an A+ on the paper, thank you for your help," you said, smiling brightly.

"It was a purely selfish reason, I wanted an excuse to spend time with you," he said, his words catching you off guard.

"Oh, I," you stammered, not sure how to respond.

"You are always very easy to be around," he said, giving you a gentle smile.

You smiled and nodded, his compliment filling your heart with joy.

"Care to dance?" He asked, offering you his hand.

Your heart raced, and your breath caught in your throat. You nodded, unable to form words. He took your hand and led you to the dance floor, his grip firm and possessive.

You looked up at him, your heart pounding. He was so handsome, and the way he was looking at you made you weak in the knees.

You closed your eyes and let him lead, the feel of his hands on your body making your blood run hot. You couldn't believe this was happening, it felt surreal.

"I have a confession," he said, his voice barely audible above the music.

"What is it?" you asked, looking into his eyes.

"You make me nervous," he stuttered, his words causing your heart to flutter.

You let out a louder laugh than you meant too, then turned bright red and some people glanced at you. You didn't want him to think you were laughing at him, but you couldn't stop.

"Me? Nervous? How do I make you nervous?" You asked, genuinely curious.

He tilted his head in confusion, a wide smile forming on his face.

"I mean, look at you," he said, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You're breathtaking."

You blushed, not used to receiving such compliments. "You make me nervous too," you confessed, smiling shyly.

"I know," he smirked, causing you to blush deeper.

You gazed up at him, his brown eyes full of warmth and admiration. He truly was an incredible man.

You rested your head against his chest and closed your eyes, letting the music and the feeling of his arms around you wash over you. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, like you were made for each other. Your heart soared, you felt like you were dreaming.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?"

Your eyes snapped open and your heart raced, his question sending a rush of heat to your core.

He wanted you.

You nodded, unable to form words. He took your hand, a smirk forming on his lips as he led you toward a balcony. You followed him eagerly, your heart hammering in your chest.

The cool air hit your face, and he led you to a secluded area, away from the other party guests. You gazed at him, your desire for him overwhelming.

He placed his hands on your waist and pressed you up against the wall. His lips were mere inches from yours, his eyes burning into you.

His fingers brushed against the side of your face, then he leaned in and kissed you. It was slow and passionate, his lips soft against yours. You let out a quiet moan as you melted into his kiss.

He pulled away and looked at you, his eyes full of desire. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he breathed.

"Then why were you kissing Hayley?" You blurted out before you could stop yourself. You felt terrible for even saying it, it made you seem jealous and possessive. You knew it wasn't fair for you to get upset at him, you had no right to. But you couldn't help it.

His eyes widened and a smirk spread across his face. "So you are jealous?"

You blushed and averted your gaze.

"It was a mistake, she caught me by surprise," he explained, his fingers brushing your hair back. "I'm sorry if I hurt you."

You nodded and looked up at him. He smiled and kissed you again, this time harder and more passionate.

He broke the kiss and whispered, "I've been drawn to you from the moment I met you."

Your heart soared at his words, your desire for him overwhelming. You wanted to feel his skin against yours, you needed him.

"Do you want to see my room? I have some books to share with you," you asked, knowing neither of you were doing any reading tonight.

He raised an eyebrow, "Lead the way," he said, his eyes twinkling.

Your heart pounded with excitement, and you took his hand in yours, leading him up to your room. You couldn't believe this was happening.

He closed the door behind him and kissed you, leading you backwards towards your bed. The back of your legs hit the edge and you fell down on the bed, your chest rising and falling rapidly. The corset making it difficult to breath, you tried to keep calm as you looked up at him. The reality was better than any fantasy you could ever dream of.

He placed his knee on the bed and leaned down to kiss you, his hands moving over your body, his fingers tugging at the laces of the corset. He did it slowly, each pull causing your breasts to spill out a little more.

He hummed softy, leaning down and kissing your neck and collarbone as your corset fell to the ground. He was so gentle with you, treating you with care, his movements deliberate and confident.

He unlaced the front of your dress, exposing your breasts. He gazed down at you, a look of wonder in his eyes. You couldn't help but blush at his reaction.

"Did you wear this in the hope I would take it off?" He asked, his voice husky.

"Maybe," you blushed.

He chuckled, leaning down and taking one of your breasts into his mouth. You let out a soft moan as he licked and sucked your nipple, his hands kneading your breast. You ran your hands through his hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

He pulled back and smiled down at you, then began to undo his cravat. You watched him eagerly, biting your lip as he pulled it off and began unbuttoning his shirt. You reached out and helped him, your hands brushing against his toned chest.

He smiled and took your hand, pressing his lips to the inside of your wrist. "I've dreamt of this moment for so long," he murmured.

He reached out and pulled your dress up over your head, leaving you in just your panties and stockings. His gaze was filled with desire as he looked down at you.

You felt confident under his gaze, he made you feel beautiful. He leaned down and kissed you again, his fingers running up your thighs, playfully pulling on your stocking and letting it snap back into place. You giggled at his teasing.

He smiled against your lips and tugged your panties off. His eyes raked over your body, his gaze filled with desire.

You reached out and helped him remove the rest of his clothes, your heart racing.

He lowered himself down on the bed beside you and pulled you into his arms, kissing you softly. His hand lifted your thigh around his hips, and he ran his fingers along your thigh and between your legs, a groan escaping his throat at the feel of how wet you were for him. You blushed at his reaction and looked away, feeling shy all of a sudden.

"Are you nervous?" He asked, looking down at you, his gaze tender and warm.

"A little, you're the first vampire I've been with," you admitted.

He chuckled, a wide smile on his face. "I promise I won't bite," he whispered, a hint of humor in his voice.

You couldn't help but giggle.

You ran your hand up and down his chest, then slowly down to his hard length. You took his shaft in your hand and began to stroke him, a low groan escaping his lips.

Your eyes locked, his gaze filled with desire as he watched you pleasure him. You increased the pressure of your strokes, rubbing the tip of him in your hand.

"You feel nice," you whispered, your lips inches from his own.

He smiled and pulled you on top of him, your breasts against his chest as he kissed you deeply, his hands gripping your ass. You grinded on him slowly, the feel of his cock against your pussy making you gasp.

You sat up and slowly sank down onto him, the feel of him inside of you making your breath catch in your throat. He felt so good.

"You're perfect," he whispered as he reached up and ran his fingers through your hair, gently tugging you back down to him, kissing you deeply. You began to rock on top of him, the friction causing you to moan softly. He ran his hands over your back, groaning into your ear as you rode him, taking him deeper.

It was slow, hot and sticky, the two of you getting to know each other's bodies, exploring and teasing. Your orgasm slowly built, your moans becoming more and more intense. You felt his grip on you tighten, his breathing becoming ragged.

Your heart pounded against his as he gazed up at you, a smile on his lips. His hands gripped your hips and he took control, guiding your movements, rocking you back and forth. You gazed into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between the two of you. You felt a connection beyond lust or attraction, something deep and beautiful, and you knew he felt it too.

You rocked together, lost in one another, and you let yourself fall apart on top of him. Your body spasming, a long moan escaping your throat as your orgasm crashed into you, your muscles clenching around him.

He gazed up at you, his eyes filled with love and desire. "That's my girl," he whispered.

He gently rolled you on to your side, keeping your bodies connected. His fingers digging into your thigh as he held it against his hip, kissing and nuzzling your neck. He took you slowly, drawing out your pleasure as long as possible. His eyes never left yours, the love you felt for each other in that moment, palpable in the room.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, you tugged his head towards yours as you kissed him. He kissed you back, his movements becoming more frantic, his thrusts deep and rough.

His eyebrows arched upwards, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing. Your clung to his shoulders, moaning his name as he found his release deep inside of you. He held you close as he came down, the two of you a tangle of limbs and sweaty bodies.

He kept kissing you, soft and unhurried, his hand stroking your thigh, keeping you connected and still wrapped around him. You both caught your breath as you held each other close, neither wanting the moment to end.

"I've had a crush on you since the first day I saw you," you murmured into his ear, causing him to pull away and smile.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead, "And I, you."

He gently slipped out of you and pulled the sheets over your naked bodies, his arms encircling you in his embrace. You fell asleep in each other's arms, content and happy, dreaming of more nights just like this.

{Moodboard->}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please

[drabbletron]

Cyberformed!Reader PART 1

|| I was thinking about how terrible it would be to suddenly wake up in a body that wasn't yours on the Lost Light and wanted to write something for it. I do not speak for people who have this issues irl and I wanted to explore a topic and combine it with some not so nice feelings. ||

TAGS: body dysphoria, panic attacks, mentions of weapons, potential use of weapons, anxiety, poor coping mechanisms, people trying to help but accidentally make it worse, potential body horror, general fear and sense of doom, biology, potential dead dove do not eat, POTENTIAL NSFW

( if any of the above things upset you please do not interact with this work )

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

You’re not sure what’s happened but you feel something is off the moment you wake up.

At first, you’re roused awake at the soft whirring of machine parts, which is odd as they’re much louder than the distant hum of the ship you fell asleep to. When you open your eyes, you’re startled awake by the words “System Recharge Complete.”

Jolting, you backpedal on the bed to get away from the sudden crowding of screen menus and targeting systems that alight your vision, when you hear a crunching of metal rods and the text – “LEDGE DETECTED” – flashes in your face.

You suddenly can’t feel metal under your hands anymore and tumble off the edge of the converted berth you slept on, and the noise you make as you fall is what startles you the most. It sounds like Trailcutter when he hits the floor at the bar after having one too many; a sudden clang and the ringing sound of metal scraping metal while the rest of your body follows, and you end up sprawled on the somewhat cold floor. Hadn’t it always felt like ice before! You don’t even have time to consider that sound maybe came from you before your habsuite door springs open, and you hear a startled “Oh frag!”

Somehow the fall wasn’t as bad as it could have been, as though you’d only fallen a short distance versus ten to fifteen feet that would usually land you in the medibay. You also don’t feel any pain from your fall, at least not much. That doesn’t stop the words from consuming your vision though and more just seem to spawn in, one on top of the next on top of the next. No matter how much you scramble backwards they just keep coming! To get away you do the only thing you can think to do and clamp your eyes shut. Hard.

“Oh frag!”

- Rodimus hears a loud clang coming from your hab and he rushes in. He can only stand there in utter shock at the sight of something – someone crumpled on the other side of your berth with their arms raised above their face swatting at the air. His optics dart from them to the crushed ruins of your bed and then back to them.

He doesn’t stop himself from lunging to restrain their thrashing form hoping that you, the human, hadn’t been crushed by them in their obvious ham-fisted attempt on your life.

“Hey, hey STOP!”

[lifesteal-tournaments]

welcome to the Lifesteal Tournaments!!!

as the name suggests, this is a blog for various lifesteal-centric tournaments for fun and sillies

current tournament: N/A

the number one rule of the lifesteal tournaments is to have fun and be yourself. the other rules are as follows:

- you can submit propaganda in the askbox and in reblogs! i will share all of it on this blog under the tag #propaganda however please refrain from being mean to the contestants or other voters. i will also not be sharing anti-propaganda/propaganda specifically Against one of the contestants. hashtag spread love not hate

- voter fraud of all kinds is allowed as long as you don't go overboard with it and ruin the fun for everyone else. if you do go overboard with it i will take whatever actions i see fit depending on the situation

- if you have a suggestion for what the next tournament should be please feel free to send it as an ask!

- the polls all last 24 hours and are tagged #poll for navigation

- hopefully it will never get to that point However if people start being really heated and rude to each other over a poll i will kick out both contestants and replace them with a random other mcyt of my liking. this is non-negotiable

- this blog is run by only one admin so if i'm ever slow with replying to asks that's why & if i mess something up please don't hesitate to tell me

- we have a lot of lore. like genuinely a lot. i'm aware that it's very difficult to figure out for a newcomer but if you're ever curious about anything you can always ask me! some tags you can look at for lore purposes are #lore pondering, #wemmbob saga & #sigmaposting. we also have a fandom wiki! and if you're only here for the polls and don't want to see off topic posts (completely understandable) which we have a lot of you can mute #not a poll

- my personal favourite posts of all time are collected under #hall of fame

finished tournaments:

Lifesteal Duos

Lifesteal Gay Roleplay

Lifesteal Pathetic Wet Cats

JumperWho (april fools special)

Lifesteal Transgender Swag

Lifesteal Joyous Whimsy

Lifesteal Doomed Yaoi/Yuri

Pride Month Special

Lifesteal Tumblr Sexyman

[kyupidos]

04/8/24’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

rather melodramatic aren’t you?ヽ( ･���･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘so it seems, you’ve finally found your way back home.’

characters. first years : ace trappola , deuce spade , jack howl, epel felmier , sebek zigvolt ( separate ) ;; romantic ( implied ) angst . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader is yuu, angst with romance sprinkled in i s’pose ( can still be friendship seen,, i think.. ), blah blah angst

📡 _a/n. mmmm, been listening to tv girl a lot more like i used to, ended up coming up w this. still not the best w angst but we stay rollin ( also, cigarettes out the window >> )

a. trappola

— he was always the one who kept everyone’s mind off the topic of you going home—making the mood lighter so no one would be upset again, especially you. but ace can’t deny how distraught he is, when it comes the time for you to finally, finally go. he’s happy for you, never doubt for a fact that he is. but there’s that one part of him that never wants to let you go. you’ve been friends all this time, haven’t you? then again, this school year with him has always been more of an experience for you, hm.. like an emotional rollercoaster until you make it home, and things will go back to normal, to your usual.

— he knew that much, that one day you would say your final farewells and that he would have to turn his back and go on with his life, the rest of his school year, without you by his side. without a magicless prefect who turned his world upside down, without a magicless prefect to spend his time with, without a magicless prefect whom he held ever so dear to his heart. maybe your time spent with him was just a waiting game before you could return to your norm. but his time spent with you made his heart full, as if you were everything he wanted and more.

— but he can let go, can’t he? not like he’s making lighthearted jokes here and there, about what it’d be like if you were to stick around, even if for a little while longer. he eventually holds his pinky out to you, in a moment of bitter weakness ( to him and him only ), that if the chance ever comes to fruition that it’s not a one way trip, you’ll return to night raven and stay friends, stay together with him. and it becomes a promise, pinky sworn and all. he tells himself he can swallow his bitter tears and see you off, yet he leaves deep, ragged breaths in his wake when you hug him tightly and tell him you’ll miss him, no matter how the circumstances may end up.

— you should know at least that much, left to digest it as you go back home, that he’ll miss you too—and though he may leave this out, unless he’s caught in a moment of weakness truth, you’ll always be on his mind.

d. spade

— deuce always felt such a pain in his heart whenever he comes to the recollection ( sometimes random, but then comes the times you’re forced to remind him you may not be there forever ), that you’re doomed to leave him behind as you return, to your family, to your friends of before. his hopes for you to see his graduate, to stay together being each other’s best friends, to just stay by each other’s side, he’d accept just being in your proximity. how he loved, and will never stop loving your words of kindness, words that’ll never leave the back of his mind, words he’ll never let go.

— how many times you’ve affirmed and reaffirmed your friendship and fondness toward him with those words, he can’t recall. or maybe he does; he’ll keep those memories with him until the ends of times, and whatever voice messages you may have sent him when you finally got your phone will be treasured and stored forever. oh, but how he’d like to not need that in the first place. how will he go on, without your kind words ringing delightfully in his ears? he’d never be able to bring himself to forget your voice, even if he can’t hear it in the present, he’ll hold it dearly as he looks to the past.

— he could never go against your wishes to return home, though. he knows for a fact it’s all you’ve wanted, and he’ll never say he wouldn’t want the same for himself if he were ever in your situation—he couldn’t even imagine that much, he always commended your strength to get as far as you’ve gotten now. but he finds himself asking you, if you’ll ever forget him. reaffirm him once more with your words; tell him that you won’t for as long as you live. that you’ve treasured the times you’ve spent together.

— because, let it be clear, he’ll treasure those times just as much as you, he’ll treasure them forever, and when forever ends, he’ll treasure them more.

j. howl

— he recalls all those times he shyly managed to bring himself to do little things for you, wake you up in class when you felt tired, remind you to straighten out your uniform, anything to silently tell you he respects and cherishes his friendship with you. jack recalls the times you returned the favor, watering his cacti with him, and thanking him for everything he does. just smiling at him makes him happy. but he accepts, with a heavier than he expected heart, that these times will become nothing one day. a day that’s come and approaches now.

— he’d like to send you off easily, but “easily” will never belong in the end. maybe when your friendship first bloomed he could huff and pout about how you were barely friends, and he just “couldn’t let the bad things happening around you go down the way they were”. but if he didn’t admit how much of a likening he took to the time he’s spent with you, he could never live with himself. still, he knows he’ll have to see your smile only once more before never seeing it again, anyway. he finds it difficult, actually, trying to remember how he spent his time when you weren’t there, a time before you. when in the early mornings you weren’t there to greet him, no matter the mood amongst you.

— but in his heart stays all the things you’ve done for each other, and all the things he still wishes he could do, but he knows time will never stop for that. even so, he’ll praise you for your hard work, everything you’ve done that’s gotten you so far as to return to your loved ones. there’s a part that gnaws at him though, that he’ll have to get used to a routine that doesn’t involve you. it was so often, how you’d greet him and he’d greet you, sometimes you’d eat lunch together and on a good day, maybe you’d join him on a run, even if it did end with you laying against the wall because of how exhausted you were. and he’d scold you, telling you not to overexert yourself.

— at least he’s certain you’ll take care of yourself back home, since he asked carefully about your health and you reassured him. still a shame, though, that he could never introduce you to his family.

e. felmier

— he gifted you a nicely carved apple, once. epel figured you may like it, at least he hoped you would. he’s long since found you cool, someone he saw as the confident, ever so diligent prefect to be admired. but eight’s a crowd; it’ll always be back to seven in the end. you were as beautiful as the apples he’d carve while you were on his mind during evenings, glistening in the sunset, their shine never dulling as they design came to be the longer epel worked. in a sense you were like that—except you’d built yourself up from the ground, keeping yourself strong to bear through the troubles of your time at night raven. and epel’d been your supporter as long as you’d known and been a friend of him.

— and now you bear the fruits of your success, and he’s thankful that he’d managed to bring himself to a smile at the good news that you’d managed to finally find your way back to your own world, the world you belonged to. not the world you’ve only spent a school year in. he’d never bite into a bitter apple on accident, far too acidic with a metallic aftertaste; but it feels like he did, as he thinks of how many apples will have rotten, that one singular apple you ate right before leaving, that you forgot to throw out and left on your old bedside table.

— allow him to hold onto your hands gently, as he whispers to you that he’d like, if ever even possible, for you to return, maybe one day. he’s barely paying attention to that bitter taste, a dry gulp as he tries not to make his upset audible to you, leaving his tears silent. he lets you dry those tears, not even caring that it should be himself doing it, he’ll let himself be taken care of you again just once. he wonders what the apples of your world taste like. you’ve talked about the differences between your worlds before, and how nice your world seems from what you tell, so vastly different compared to his, and he commends you for your commitment to returning. he’d want to return to his own world under your circumstances, too.

— so he clenches onto the hem of his shirt, feeling as though he might give in to his impulsive thoughts if not, his growing desire to never let you go, run up to you and hug you ever so tightly to spend eternity with you.

s. zigvolt

— you’ve always seemed to find a way to make things refreshing. sebek’s read ever so many books in night raven’s library, it’s one of his more favored hobbies after all. and ever since your friendship grew he always seemed to search for your thoughts and opinions more. he doesn’t truly understand, how a human, a magicless one at that, from another world like you managed to find your way by his side. maybe that’s just because you were doomed to leave it. humans were always trouble, right? to think you’d leave this type of stain on him. no, no—he could never blame you. as it goes, right person, wrong time. . . and place.

— he grew to be fond of your commentary, your view of things. there would always be aspects of the two of you respectively that clashed, and yet even so here you were. actually, he thinks about your informal first meeting. how he rolled his eyes indifferent to your figure, considering you just another clumsy human who he knew would stumble about. sure there may have been times you had two left feet, but you sure proved him wrong didn’t you, hm? the title of the ramshackle prefect becoming renowned, a prefect who could never be replaced or mimicked, not you, never you.

— once upon a time, you invited him over to ramshackle to read a book together, one he’d apparently not yet to have read. the evening was lovelier than he’d yet expected, having fun sharing your thoughts together and making light conversation between pages. the evenings to nights feel so much lonelier without you. in literature, it hangs in the silence of its realm, alone as some think it. he once respected it as a nice metaphor within the books he’s read—yet now he seems to sympathize with the moon, its solitude compared to others which had more moons to surround it.

— maybe some day “once upon a time” will turn into “and they lived happy ever after”, and those words will belong to him. and then, he can share them with you.

[proship-confessional]

heres the essay btw- copy pasted, so just heads up "

I am proship. not proshipping, not proshipper. proship. proshipping and proshipper don't functionally work as words, because thats not how proship works.

Proship means: Anti-Harassment and Anti-Censorship, with the belief that Fiction does Not Equal reality (NOT that fiction doesn't affect reality) It means fiction doesn't affect reality to a 1-1 basis. Which seems obvious, but i've seen some just. plain ignorant takes, so i wanted to be sure thats clarified.

the Anti-Censorship Stance: first off, censorship is dangerous! in general, both in fandom and reality. You've all likely heard the phrase "Those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it", which is fairly relevant here. Take states, or even countries where things in media are censored. things such as Queer books, as a largely understood topic. Schools removing books that talk about Sex Ed, Queer spaces, sometimes even religion. censorship as a whole is a way to control, to keep people uninformed of things so in many cases they can't fight back. This is something very important in many places in the current day. Anti-censorship is against this, it advocates for freedom of speech, the ability to access things freely, to learn, to explore.

well, you might be asking, "how does this have anything to do with shipping, or fiction at all? this all seems quite real!" because, historically, if you give an inch, they'll take a mile. you censor fiction you don't like, and suddenly a loophole is found. a show you don't like gets taken down, censored? well, now a line is set. "but this is good! {X Show} had {X thing you are uncomfortable with}! it shouldn't be up!" well what happens when someone complains about something you DO like? well the lines been set, it's okay to take things down that make people uncomfortable. so that gets taken down as well. This becomes an ideology, that if you're uncomfortable, you can just have it taken down. this spreads, and suddenly people in power have this. homophobic people can point at something gay, say it makes them uncomfortable, and it gets removed. then with people.

Can you see how this goes down? give an inch of censorship in media, and you get people taking a mile of very real, very political power.

"but what about (X thing) that makes me uncomfortable!" you ask? you see, people have a wonderful thing, called free will, and opposable thumbs. most dark medias that most associate with the proship label (incorrectly, but i'll be getting into that later), will get tagged, have content and trigger warnings. These are important, and ABSOLUTELY should be used. however, it's important to note they need to be used truthfully. a papercut shouldn't go under a gore warning, for example. this waters down the meaning of gore. gore has a meaning, and using it for things outside of what it means is just false as a concept. It's functionally incorrect, and if it becomes common to have papercuts under gore warnings, then someone who is deeply disturbed by true gore but is fine with a papercut might continue, with the thought well, every other thing under the gore label are papercuts, this must be one too. and then be faced with very real gore when it appears. can you see how this can pose issues?

remember, words have power. use them confidently, but also, don't be afraid to understand what you're saying. research things, learn. This will help you grow, in so many ways, regardless of age. It is Never a bad thing to Learn, and change. ever.

Now! onto other labels, usually associated with the proship ideology. sadly, i can't easily do this because youtube doesn't like some of the words, so i'll do my best

Com/Darkship. these are the ships normally connected with the word proship, mostly because most people with the proship label also tend to be comshippers.

now, personally, theres no deep difference in the two terms of comship or darkship, but people are free to correct me on this. this is not an ideology like proship, this is a flavor of shipping. a comshipper is simply someone who likes darker media, more toxic pairings. you may think "oh what a bad person, they like these things. they must clearly endorse it if they show them so blatantly". not true! many comshippers simply like the topics, same as you may like horror, or games like GTA. it is fiction, and no one is physically being hurt. this is one of the main concepts of proship, which is another reason why many comshippers fall under the proship label.

No one is Physically being hurt. Kinks are okay (even the ones you don't like or aren't into!). paraphilias are okay, and are common! are you attracted to a certain aspect of people? did you know that is a paraphilia? a paraphilia is simply a certain attraction to certain things. it's not inherently bad. and even the Big 3? they're not bad either! one those, it's only the action thats bad, not the thoughts. thought crimes are not real! which is another reason censorship of media is bad, because people who have paraphilias that are considered harmful can and many times will have the ways they can safely express and handle these thoughts and desires. outlets through fiction and medias in safe ways are actually highly encouraged by many, many therapists. dark medias and fiction are also ways to cope with other things, such as traumas. (BUT NOT ALWAYS!! SOME PEOPLE JUST LIKE DARKER TOPICS, AND THATS OKAY!!). it can be a way to vent, or to explore their own minds.

and as i mentioned, some people just like dark topics, and like exploring the human mind, what makes people uncomfortable and pushing the limits of fiction, some like getting a visceral reaction to their work. i certainly do, and have written things that do make people shudder, and that was the intent. it was meant to be frightening, to make you uncomfortable. a great example of this kind of writing is most horror! have you seen the alien movies? they're not exactly meant to be comforting, feel good, slice of life stories. they're meant to frighten you, and smaller writers and creators often aim to do the same thing!

and some people can't handle those writings, and thats okay. some people can't watch certain movies, because the level of discomfort isn't worth the recreational value of witnessing the things, and thats okay! the best thing you can do, when writing, or reading, is Mind the Warnings, Read the Tags. Make sure when it's something that can potentially trigger someone, to cause real distress, to put a warning.

This last part isn't even some strange fandom stance, but human decency. use trigger warnings as needed, when they apply. don't misuse them, but don't actively go out of your way to not use them. if you're unsure, google it! there are dozens, if not more, ways to learn. don't be afraid to learn, it makes you stronger. fight for your ideals, but don't be afraid to listen to someone elses side, and be prepared to realize you may be wrong.

fandom is meant to be fun, to be shared. it's meant to be safe. it's a place to explore ideas, even dark ones. it's okay to be uncomfortable, and it's okay to not look at some things.

i may have forgotten some things in this, but i'm happy to respond to respectful additions or questions

and to everyone, proship or not. take a while. breathe. it will be okay. the world will be spinning again in the morning. set an alarm, watch the sunrise. the world will get better. we will get better."

<3

[the-stars-and-the-tide]

<< Start Reading >> Read on ComicFury!

Hello! I'm Allisphasia (or Ally or Cat) She/Her. I've wanted to make one of these clangen comics for a while now so here we are! This is my first time making a comic so if anything's wonky I apologize

The false prophet dooms their chosen

After moons of searching, Driftclan has finally found their new home, a place they can restart, however when the illusion of a perfect home starts crumbling will they stay or will they be swept away by the tide? Driftclan is a clangen comic that loosely follows the events of my own playthrough. Some basic info:

Expanded mode - Mass extinctions off - Cats can have kits with others that aren't their mate - Pregnancy ignores biology off - Unknown second parent off (it was on until moon 7)

You can ask the characters anything you want! Whether they give an answer or not is up to the question

I mostly stick to the rng but I have messed with some things like personality and relationships.

If I don't answer an ask its likely because its too spoilery or something I don't feel comfortable answering

It will hopefully update once a week but no promises

I have played up until moon 122, where the comic will end

Tags: #tsatt moons - Moon updates (individual moons will be tagged moon 1, etc.) #tsatt lore - any lore or character lore unrelated to moon updates #tsatt asks - Any asks I get #tsatt refs - Character refs #non tsatt - anything unrelated to the comic #tsatt art - art related to the comic All cats will be tagged with their name ex: #slumberpoppy If there are any triggering topics such as death or blood, they will be tagged appropriately ex: tw animal death (i hope eek!) feel free to tell me if I missed a tag Allegiance under the cut! (may contain spoilers)

Last Updated - Moon 4

Leader: No one :)

Deputy: Also no one lol

Medic: Slumberpoppy - Male - 53 moons - Current Guide

Warriors: Garlictail - Male - 85 moons Furleddusk - Female - 80 moons Frostspeck - Female - 56 moons Scorchglint - Male - 41 moons Rowanmask - Male - 15 Moons Gentlefern - Male - 12 moons

Apprentices: Hemlockpaw - Female - 8 moons - Mentor: Garlictail

Kits: Lightkit - Female - 0 moons Sweetkit - Male - 0 moons

Elders: None

Dead: Hornetstar - Currently unknown Tidestar - Male - Former Leader

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 48

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 1.5K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

The grandfather clock in the dimly lit sitting room ticked relentlessly, its rhythmic sound echoing off the dark wood walls of the Townhouse. The only other sounds were the pattering rain outside and the muffled thoughts in your head. The town was flooded and the river had risen to unprecedented levels, but none of it seemed to matter now.

Azriel sat across from you, his scarred hands fidgeting as he stared at the carpet below. It had only been two days since Eris left you with an impossible decision, and each passing second felt like a lifetime. You and Azriel avoided talking about it, moving around each other like ghosts in the night. But you could feel his eyes on you when you curled up in the chair, pretending to read a book. Time seemed to slow down, rendering everything you did meaningless.

Azriel had walked into the sitting room drenched from the rain, his curls dripping water onto his face and shoulders. He didn't say anything as he collapsed onto the couch across from you. You were reading a letter from a desperate mother of two seeking housing accommodations that you knew you wouldn't have time to help with.

"Rhys heard from Eris," Azriel finally broke the silence, his gaze meeting yours briefly before dropping back down to avoid direct eye contact. "He wants to know what your plan is."

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat as you folded the letter and placed it back in its envelope. "What is our plan?"

Azriel's expression remained blank as he replied, "That's not for me to decide."

"What would you do?" You couldn't help but ask, desperation creeping into your voice. Every solution seemed doomed to fail, and the thought of sacrificing yourself for the sake of others weighed heavily on your mind. In your dreams, Philip died unexpectedly, but in reality, there seemed to be no way out of this predicament without facing torment and torture. You turned to Azriel, hoping his years of battle strategy could offer a different solution. But he offered no comfort, his gaze fixed on the floor. You felt anger rising at the injustice of it all and frustration at being burdened with such a heavy decision when you barely knew who you were. "Azriel," you called out, your voice hardened with emotion.

The shadowsinger looked up at you from under his lashes, shifting in his chair as he nervously chewed on his lip. "What should I do? Please, help me."

Azriel appeared to be breaking inside as you pleaded for his guidance. He swallowed and leaned forward to meet your eyes, "I don't know."

Your heart sank at his words and you waited for him to say something, anything that could make things better. But he remained silent, his face filled with emptiness.

"Is there really nothing we can do?" you asked again.

Azriel's lips tightened as he considered your question before finally responding, "You could run."

A gasp caught in your throat and your brows furrowed in confusion at his suggestion. "Run?" you repeated.

"Yes," Azriel's intense gaze met yours as he continued, "You could flee from here and start a new life far away from Velaris where Philip or Eris couldn't reach you."

The idea of leaving everything behind and starting fresh in an unfamiliar place crossed your mind. Maybe it was time to follow in your mother's footsteps and escape the watchful eyes of the Autumn Court heir. You could settle in the Spring or Day Court, living out your days gardening and tending to plants. And as you envisioned a future with little feet running through grass and delicate wings taking flight, you asked Azriel, "Would you come with me?"

His response shattered your hopes, "I couldn't."

Confused, you furrowed your brow and asked, "Why not?" Azriel's eyes were empty as he explained, "I can't just disappear. If I left with you, it would look like a planned court action and Philip would use it against us. You'd have to go alone."

The thought of being completely alone in the world filled you with sadness and loneliness. "But wouldn't the Autumn Court still look for me?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

Azriel nodded sadly. "They may not send an army, but Philip wouldn't give up on finding you. It would be up to you to defend yourself. And if we tried to defend you against him, it would violate our alliance." The weight of the situation settled heavily in your stomach as you considered a life lived in isolation, always looking over your shoulder for danger and yearning for a love that was now forever out of reach.

With a hollow and empty voice, you said, "Even if I try to hide, I could still end up in the Autumn Court. They could find me and drag me back."

Azriel's eyes widened as he pleaded with you, "Wouldn't it be better to at least try?"

You watched his face fall, "So you want me to run away?"

Azriel straightened as he tried to hide his emotions. "I want you to do what you feel is right."

"But none of this feels right," you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration. "If I run, I'll live a life of isolation and fear. If I refuse Eris and go against him, he'll destroy the courts. And if I go with him, I'll be trapped under the rule of Caelum and Philip, forced to bear children for a male I despise." You looked at Azriel with wide eyes, "None of these options are right."

Azriel kept his gaze locked on you, searching for a solution in his mind. You turned away, biting into your cheek to hold back tears. "I want a life," you continued, "a life with you. Where I can make my own choices and wake up excited for each day."

Listening to you, Azriel's expression hardened until you finished speaking. "So you run away," he proposed. "Right now. I can take you deep into the woods and give you a chance to escape far from here. You can build the life you want."

"But it's not the life I want if you're not in it," you retorted. "And I can't just run away knowing that others might die because of my choices, Azriel. I can't live with more blood on my hands that I can't wash away."

"So you would sacrifice yourself to save strangers?" Azriel asked incredulously.

You swallowed back tears, "My life for hundreds. It seems like an easy decision."

Azriel looked disheartened, "I won't let you throw your life away, Y/N. I can't watch you go with him."

"Then I won't ask you to be there when I leave," you said firmly. "I refuse to let anyone else die because of me."

Azriel stood and ran his hands through his hair. "And what about me? If I asked you to leave, would you?" He looked down at you, pleading. "If it gave me peace of mind, would you leave forever?"

You considered his words, gazing up at him. "You can't guarantee the safety of others."

Azriel knelt in front of you and took your hand in his as if in prayer. "People will die no matter what decision we make." He pressed a kiss into your hand, "This won't be the last time Philip tries to overthrow Eris. The Autumn Court is already on the brink of civil war. Why not just let it happen sooner?"

You smiled softly, "I can't do that." You reached up to caress his cheek, which he leaned into. "If I can prevent more lives from being lost, that's what I should do. It's what you would do."

A single tear rolled down Azriel's cheek. "I am not capable of selflessness," he choked out.

"You would be," you assured him, gently resting his head in your lap and wrapping your arms around his body. He held onto you tightly as you ran your fingers through his curls, trying to soothe him as he broke down into sobs. "It's the right thing to do," you murmured, tears filling your own eyes. "And maybe I can still see you, even in the court. From across ballrooms and in meetings, I can still catch a glimpse of you, smell your scent and know that you are alive, that would be enough to keep me going.”

Azriel shook his head, "I cannot bear to see you with him. Not without losing control."

You lifted his chin to meet his gaze. "For me, you would stay composed." You planted a soft kiss on his forehead. "If it means being able to see you, you would hold back."

Tears glistened in Azriel's eyes as he nodded in agreement. "I will never stop searching for a way to get you out of there. I promise."

You managed a small smile and chuckled through your tears. "And I will be waiting for that day. I swear it. I will endure whatever suffering is necessary to be with you until the end of my days."

His response came out broken and muffled by sobs, "I will suffer for eternity for you."

As the hot heat of the sealed vow crept up your spine, sealing itself in ink, you paid no attention to it. Instead, you focused on holding onto this moment with Azriel and etching it into your memory forever.

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