#AND THEY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER OKAY

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

Suddenly, bell bottoms aren't so bad

Bonus sketch, because I had to vv

"Stop checking out my assistant, Stanley."

[groverapologist]

no one can convince me annabeth isnt creating a New Athens project. literally no one

[imminent-danger-came]

It really is about MK wanting his story to be over and wanting his happily ever after yet having to reconcile that there is more than the end, that "it can't just be a journey to the end, it needs to mean something", and how, despite everything, he has to keep going to experience both the pain and joy of life, to keep his friends safe.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

Why Jason Grace is The Most Tragic Character in the Riordanverse

*in no way is this trying to dial down Nico's own suffering, I'm just stating my case for Jason because godsdamn SOMEBODY needs to say it!*

@most-tragic-character-tournament here's propoganda i came out guns ablazing

List of why fans are saying Nico:

Lost his mother

lost years of his life

found out he was a demigod at age 10

lost sister at 10

rough relationship with his dad

closeted gay

crush is madly in love with somebody else

forced to come out

List of why Jason is more tragic:

Lost his mom to alcoholism/mental decline

Lost his ENTIRE FUCKING CHILDHOOD because Said Mom gave him up to Juno to be raised by a PACK OF WOLVES who would've EATEN HIM if he was WEAK FOR EVEN A SECOND - AS A FUCKING TWO YEAR OLD

Was a trained demigod FROM THE GET-GO (again, TWO YEARS OLD)

Because of previously stated separation, was TAKEN FROM HIS SISTER WHO LOVED HIM SO MUCH SHE RAN AWAY BECAUSE SHE COULDN'T TAKE THE GUILT AND FEAR AND RAGE THAT FILLED HER AT HIS ABSENCE

Was set up into a "perfect" relationship by Juno/Hera WHILE HAVING HIS MEMORIES TAKEN

Jason may not have had the awful forced outting Nico had to go through, but...that's not really his fault? Nobody has any control over their sexual identity, and Jason? Well. He never really got to explore it. Because that was taken from him too.

Thinks he LOST LEO VALDEZ, ONE OF HIS ACTUAL FIRST FRIENDS, WHO LIKED HIM FOR HIM AND NOT BECAUSE OF HIS STATUS

FORCED TO COMPLY TO A DEMANDING SOCIETY THAT EXALTED HIM FROM DAY 1 BECAUSE HIS DAD IS THE OH-SO-IMPORTANT JUPITER (*cough victim of nepotism cough*)

AND WHEN HE TRIES TO COMBAT THAT NEPOTISM HE KEEPS GETTING PUSHBACK UNTIL HE FALTERS

then. then his girlfriend breaks up with him - not because of any drama, or even a disagreement, but over a very valid point

their relationship didn't exactly start out very...honestly. Jason had been mind-wiped of all memories and Piper had fake ones implanted into her to make her think she liked Jason as more than a friend. sure. they had a pretty nice relationship, but when everything slowed down and they took a look at their lives?

Piper's the one who sees it first, and makes the decision. Jason is heartbroken, but understands - he even, dare I say, agrees that they should end the relationship. it was built on fake memories - you could say it was built on lies.

and now Jason has this opportunity to step back and analyze who he is and what he wants.

what he finds is depressing. everything he's had, everything's he's been up till now...

it's not him.

he never wanted to be raised by Lupa and her wolves.

he never wanted to be Jupiter's son

he never wanted to be the exalted leader Camp Jupiter praised him for

From day 1 his life was somebody else's. his first steps were under the tutelage of a wolf, not of the loving eyes of his sister

Camp Jupiter only ever saw him as the demigod to be praised and turn to above all others, even before he became praetor.

Jason's life...was never his own.

and now that he's away from all that pressure and expectation...he doesn't know who he is.

Son of Jupiter?

Champion of Juno?

Praetor of the Twelfth Legion?

Member of the Prophesized Seven?

Hero of Olympus?

no. he was never himself under these names.

he was never...Jason.

but maybe now he could start navigating his own life. without some god intervening for once. this would be good for him, and for Piper, to find their own way.

but then. then they talk to Herophile...and find out one of them will die. And Jason? Well, he's not going to let Piper be taken from the life she deserves. he may not be her boyfriend, her knight in shining armor, but he sure as HELL loves her - especially as a friend. And if there's one thing you should know about Jason? It's that he loves his friends.

so what does he do? He sacrifices himself. He duels Caligula himself, and urges Piper, Meg, and Apollo to Go, save yourselves! and -

he's stabbed. through the chest. the only thing he can do? Look to Apollo, to the blue gaze so much like his own drenched in horror, and ask; Remember. because he didn't get to live the life he wished, but maybe Apollo could - no, Apollo can, he can make the difference Jason wanted. Because he trusts Apollo.

Jason doesn't regret his sacrifice. he saved Piper from the prophecy, after all. He saved Apollo & Meg's lives too.

in fact, Jason didn't really mind dying. Because he didn't have much of a life either. And a life like that? shrug It's worth sacrificing for those who deserve theirs.

and as icing on the cake, remember who Jason's father is? The almighty, all-powerful Jupiter himself, King of the Gods?

he doesn't do a damn thing to help Jason. Not a single. Thing.

because Jupiter/Zeus doesn't care about his children. Especially his sons.

Zeus saved Thalia. But he didn't even try to save Jason.

Trying would have at least lessened the pain...

People like to claim Jason is a bland, boring character who's never suffered a minute in his life. That he's a golden retriever with no flaws.

Well.

Take a look up there and ask yourself - it that the life of a boy who knows no suffering?

Because it sure as hell don't look that way to me.

To me, it looks like Jason was a used, depressed young man who never got to choose his own path. Who's father abandoned him first to his wife's mercy, then to a cruel emperor's.

Jason Grace suffered.

and he never got to live that happy life he saw within the Fates.

Never got to get that family, those grandchildren he saw himself telling the story of the Argo II to.

Because The Fall of Jason Grace is a true, utter tragedy.

[wikitpowers]

emma when ash hurts dru in twp:

[regulus-cannot-swim]

No Pretending - Jegulus

James muttered an excuse to his friends and quickly left the dinner table. He gave a weak smile when Sirius asked if he was okay, and assured that he was, just wanted to get some Quidditch practice in.

As a matter of fact, he was not okay. James rarely was, but he wanted to pretend like he was fine. What reason did he have to be so sad? All his other friends went through something, and James had a loving family, great friends, and he was doing fine in school. So why wasn’t he okay?

James felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think sometimes, like the voices in his head wouldn’t stop. Everything just got too much to hide sometimes, and when it did, James left. He didn’t want to burden anyone with his stupid problems. It wasn’t like he was actually going through anything.

What James didn’t notice when he left was the slightly concerned face Regulus made from the Slytherin table, watching him as he left, then quickly making an excuse to his friends to leave.

James didn’t notice Regulus following him, because he was too overwhelmed by everything and was just focusing his energy on trying not to cry, so he didn’t even hear Regulus’ footsteps behind him. Regulus grew increasingly more and more concerned.

James went to the quidditch pitch, just like he had told his friends he would do, but he didn’t practice. No, he just crouched out on the grass, and tried to focus his breathing, tried not to cry, but he failed at both. Why couldn’t he breathe?

Distantly, he felt someone crouch down next to him, and he looked up, quickly wiping away his tears and putting on a smile. He still couldn’t breathe though, and was sure he looked a mess.

He wasn’t expecting to see Regulus when he looked up.

“Hi Reggie,” James said weakly.

Regulus, for once, didn’t give James a talking to for the nickname, showing just how bad James must look.

“What’s wrong? “Regulus inquired, unable to hide the worry in his tone. “What happened?”

James slowly shook his head. “Nothing- nothing happened. I don’t know why I’m acting like this,” he still couldn’t quite keep his breathing even.

Regulus pulled James’ hands to himself, and starting breathing louder. “Breathe, James. Just follow what I’m doing, okay?”

It took a couple of minutes, but after following Regulus’ breathing, James eventually calmed down. He felt his cheeks heat as he realized what he was doing.

“I’m sorry,” James spoke.

Regulus looked surprised. “Whatever for?” he asked, trying to act gruff but he still couldn’t keep his concern from his tone. James waved a hand in the air helplessly. “For whatever this was. I don’t know what happened.”

Regulus looked at him with a new understanding.

“You’re used to acting like you’re fine all the time, but you’re not.”

Regulus stopped James before he even opened his mouth to protest.

“And that’s fine. It’s fine that you’re not okay and- “Regulus took a steady breath before plowing on. “And I’ll be here, no matter if you’re sad, happy, or mad. I’ll still love you, no matter what.”

James’ eyes blurred for an entirely different reason now. This was the first time Regulus said the L word. James had said it multiple times, but Regulus had never quite managed it yet.

“I love you too,” He assured.

Regulus gave him a half smile. “I know,” he said, pulling James close. “And I’ll be here, okay? You don’t have to pretend around me anymore.”

[befuddled-calico-whump]

previous

cw: vaguely implied past noncon/abuse, past trauma

×~×~×

Tea was better than nothing. Jericho had been a little doubtful that Vic would have the ingredients for hot chocolate, so it wasn't too shocking to be proven right, but he was at least glad for the bags of plain green tea in the cupboard. Something warm for the kid to hold on to while they worked to process all of this.

"What's your name?" he asked as he passed him the mug. Technically, he already knew, but he didn't want to startle him with that information.

"Ander."

So he wasn't going by just Sahota yet. It made sense. He didn't seem nearly as cold or closed off.

"I'm Jericho," he said, and the kid nodded, staring at the mug in his hands like he was watching the color seep into the water. Jericho exhaled as calm as he could.

Where to start? Should he ask him about the injuries? Drop the bomb on him that he was temporally displaced? Or should he just hold off on that as long as he could? Man, and what about everybody else? All these cats were bound to come racing out of the bag at some point, and he didn't feel in any way ready for it.

Lucky for him, Ander spoke before he felt the need to fill the silence with something unnecessary.

"You work with Shepard?" He seemed almost relaxed at a glance, poised in the chair, cradling the mug. But as Jer looked at him, he could see the tension under the surface. Like he might throw the tea in his face and bolt for the door at any second.

"Yeah, kinda," he said. "Temporarily. Like I said, computers."

"Yeah."

"I take it you work with him too?"

Ander's eyes dropped. "Train," he said simply.

"Ah." Again, he didn't like the way he said it. He wanted to ask more questions, to slowly circle in on some kind of truth and get to the bottom of the mystery that was Sahota.

But before he could, the door to the kitchen swung open.

The rest of the team poured inside, filling the quiet room with whatever discussion they were having. The instant the first of them---Joy---crossed the threshold, Ander flinched back so violently he nearly sent the mug flying. He was on his feet, stumbling backwards, eyes darting around as if searching for somewhere to hide.

Internally, Jericho cursed himself for not bringing up the others sooner. He jumped to his feet, moving to put himself between Ander and the team, but the kid already had his back to the wall.

"It's okay," he called back to him, trying to keep his voice calm. "These are just my---"

"You never said there were more."

A quick glance back showed him the kid had found a knife. Oh boy...

"Ander--"

"Jer? What's---?"

"Who's that? New teammate?"

"Holy shit, is that--?"

The questions came all at once; pretty par for the course, but in the previously-quiet kitchen, with a scared kid behind him, the sound hit like a crashing wave. Then suddenly--

"Stop."

The command wasn't exactly shouted, but it was sharp enough to bring the overlapping voices to a standstill. Jericho glanced at the doorway it had come from, and wasn't surprised to see Sahota standing there. His expression was almost blank, almost unbothered, but there was a look in his eyes, a concerned tilt to his brows.

The others stepped aside, giving Sahota room to enter the kitchen. He could see Joy glancing from him to Ander. It felt like the room was holding its breath as their trainer stopped a few feet away from his younger self, both men staring at each other in disbelief.

Ander's fingers seemed to tighten around the hilt of the knife, his other hand going to his mouth, thumb on scar.

"You... Who are you?"

Sahota exhaled, lifting both hands as if to signal he meant no harm. "Ander..."

"No. This... Whatever this is, I'm fucking over it, okay? Leave me alone."

Sahota didn't retreat. "Those bruises." Something shifted in his voice, the tone becoming softer." "They aren't the worst of it, are they?"

The younger man glanced away, his voice quieting. "No."

"I remember."

Ander's arms dropped, the knife clattering to the ground. His legs seemed to give out, back sliding against the wall until he was sitting, knees tucked against his chest. Sahota followed him down, crouching across from him.

"How long?"

A pause. "Twelve years."

"Twelve... No."

"It's alright. You got stronger."

"I can't... I can't do that. I can't be here---"

"You don't need to. It's done." Sahota's hand fell onto the shoulder of his younger self, gentle. When they were side by side like this, his scars stood out all the sharper.

"He won't ever touch you again. I swear it."

He. Who? Jericho wondered, even though he already knew the answer. It sat souring in his gut.

"How can I help?" he asked, and Sahota stilled at the question, going silent for a moment.

"Clear a path. Make sure... Make sure Vic doesn't see him." He stood, fixing the room with a stony glare. "I mean it. Please."

The others nodded, and he pulled Ander to his feet.

"Davis, I need you to drive him into the city. Find him somewhere safe."

"I can't," the kid protested. "The chip--"

"He watches my frequency, not yours," Sahota assured him. "You'll be fine."

Joy was already leading the rest of the crew ahead to check the hallways, Sahota watching for her signal before scooping Ander into his arms and pressing forward, Jericho tailing behind.

He knew he should be relieved. Sahota knew what to do. He'd keep Ander safe, and the rest of them wouldn't have to worry about what happened to the kid. But what about Sahota? The man was clearly intent on staying back.

He won't ever touch you again.

Jericho grimaced. They both had to get out. To hell with the mission, whatever Vic had done to Sahota... whatever he was probably still doing, it had to stop.

They reached the exit, and Sahota moved to press Ander into his arms. Jericho took a step back.

"No."

"Davis, please."

There was a desperation creeping into his voice, and it hurt to hear, but Jer shook his head. "You need to take him."

"I can't."

"Why?"

Sahota's mouth tightened. He let out a sharp exhale. "Vic. He'd find us."

"Twelve years," Jericho echoed. "That's too long."

"It doesn't matter. One of us can get away."

"Both of you should. Sahota--"

"I'm already ruined," he snapped. Ander squeezed his eyes shut at the words, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

"It's too late for me to leave this behind," he continued I'm a small voice "I'm not who I was. I can't undo what's happened. But I can stop it from happening to someone else."

"You don't have to--"

"Please."

Jericho clenched his jaw, gently pulling Ander into his arms. The kid clung to him, seemingly in a daze.

"Get as far away from here as you can," Sahota ordered him. "I'll cover for you if Vic asks questions."

Jericho could only nod, swallowing down everything he wanted to say, every plea for Sahota to just run. He wasn't going to make him do anything against his will.

Every step towards the truck felt like walking through concrete; all the weight of this new information dragging him down. The only thing that kept Jericho walking was the need to get Ander to safety. Where to, though?

He guessed he'd ask the kid. See if he had family nearby. And when he came back...

Jericho didn't want to hurt anyone.

Those bruises. They aren't the worst of it, are they?

But right now, it was looking like Vic Shepard would have to die.

×~×~×

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden ,

@snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes ,

@clickerflight , @sodacreampuff , @starfields08000

[skywerse]

current albatrio reference sheet (just so I stop drawing them from memory)(and then forget every other little thing lol)

[gingernut1314]

As A Turtle? pt. 3

Polnareff x SDC!Passione!GN!Reader

Summary: The fight against Diavolo wages on and all Polnareff wants to know is if you would still love him?

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR JJBA PART 5 EP. 28-39, Platonic!Risotto x Reader, "would you still love me as a worm" trend, my attempt at French and Italian, pet names/terms of endearment, canon typical violence

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: I don't think I will EVER find peace....sob 😭

Taglist: @cinnbar-bun

↞ to Would You Still Love Me? Masterlist | Jjba Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

Strangled, roaring screams tore through your throat as you unleashed your rage and Stand upon Diavolo, who stood before you with an utter look of triumph. 

Polnareff--he had just been there with you. You had made it to the Colosseum--had just gotten him back and--

Blood poured from Polnareff’s mouth as Diavolo delivered a fatal wound to his chest. You hadn’t been close enough to stop it--to get in the way and protect him. Especially now as the all-but-melting Silver Chariot shoved you backward. 

Polnareff--he didn’t move. Didn’t blink or laugh or berate you for being reckless. 

Just--gone. 

Risotto’s death had hurt you deeply. It had nearly killed you but Polnareff--you two had gone through hell and back together and yet there he was--staring at you with nothing behind his gray eyes and you just felt--you felt dead inside. Completely and utterly devoid of anything besides this utter heartbreak and anger. 

You were charging at the man who had hurt Polnareff over and over because you no longer had the will to stay alive. Not without him there by your side. Not without knowing he was somewhere safe and sound. 

Diavolo hardly even blinked an eye as he dodged your attacks, time seeming to skip forward. Hardly seemed to notice you as he punched you off the floor and down toward the main level of the Colosseum. 

Wind whipped around you and an otherworldly exhaustion turned your world black until you were waking up in a body that felt too strange to you. A body that was feathery and all to hawk-shaped for your own liking. 

But even with this new body, you couldn’t think of anything besides Diavolo’s Stand’s arm running through Polnareff’s chest. Couldn’t help but think of it over and over and over again until it started to drive you mad in rage.

You flapped and crawled your new bird body over to the gathered group, all freaking out over this strange swap of bodies. And through their panic, you noticed the turtle you all had been hiding in hours ago crawling around. 

A turtle began to speak to the group in a voice that was too familiar. 

“Tesoro mio?” You questioned when you found your voice, it sounding squawking and feeling all too off on this bird's tongue. “You’re--you’re okay?” The turtle--no Polnareff, looked to you with eyes all too sad for a turtle. Eyes all too human--all too him. 

“I’m--a turtle.” He said, voice sounding all too worried--pinched. 

“But you are alive.” You insisted, a laugh falling from your mouth--or, beak? As you turned to look at the group standing above you. “Giorno.” You said, not sure which was the true Giorno yet. “Fix his body so when we work this out he won’t have a gaping hole in his chest, yes?” 

“I--I don’t know if that’s how this works.” You narrowed your eyes, if you could even narrow them in this body, at Giorno who was in now in Narancia’s body. You felt your anger take rise once more in your chest at his refusal to do as you asked.

“What do you--yes it is. He’s alive and--”

“Mon coeur,” Polnareff stressed, cutting you off. “We do not have time to argue.” 

“It's--it’s not an argument.” You said with a huff of unbelieving air. He wasn’t--he wouldn’t take this child's side on this? “It’s--you get in that body in the state it is now and you’ll di--” Polnareff cut you off with a quick snap of your name. A snap he rarely ever bit at you, but one you found halting your tongue’s movements. 

“We do not have time to go fix my body. We need to get that arrow.” And as he continued to talk and explain the situation, you couldn’t help but feel a deep, gnawing feeling in your chest. An all too bad and foreboding feeling.

You tried to push that feeling down as you focused on the fight and tasks at hand. But as soon as poor Silver Chariot was defeated and you were rocketed back into your body lying in the Colosseum, that feeling only came back to the forefront of your mind strong and unyielding. 

The Colosseum was quiet. Only the faint buzz of the people outside to be heard. 

Bucciarati's beaten and broken and utterly destroyed body lay all too still where he lay on cold stone. 

He had been in Diavolo’s body…he should be back too. He should be waking up just as you had woken up.

But the longer you stared his way, the more he seemed to grow colder, your heart began to tear because--because he had been alive. Had been talking and fighting and--he should be back in his body by now. 

You dragged yourself to your feet, slowly making for the stairs. Towards the floor Polnareff would be waking up on. 

He would be waking up any second now. 

No noise sounded. Nothing. It was just--silent. Silent as the tomb. Silent as death.

“P-Polnareff?” You called, feet beginning to climb the stairs. “Tesoro mio? Baby?” You called again, voice sounding all too weak in your ears.

Nothing answered you just as you knew nothing would. But you pressed on. Pressed on despite the painful ache growing in your chest. 

You found him just as he had been when you were tossed over the edge. Found his gray eyes unblinking and glazed over, looking ahead at nothing. His skin, which had always been so warm to the touch, looked cold and blue. His wound had stopped bleeding but it was a wound no one could ever hope to heal or survive. 

You knelt before him, looking over the face you had loved more then you had loved anything. 

Looked over the face that had made you laugh and smile and cry and believe in love again.

Your fingers moved to smooth over his shirt, which had ridden up in his crumple to the ground. Wiped a bit of blood off his unscarred eyebrow and did your best to fix his hair, which he had taken so much pride in and would have begun crying over if he could see the state it was in now. 

“All better, yes?” You whispered. A whisper that was given no response.

As gently and as best your weakened strength could, you pulled his body into your arms. A body so stiff and all too cold as you cradled his face against your chest. You placed a soft kiss to his forehead and brushed your fingertip in soothing circles over his forearm. 

You didn’t know how long you held him. How long you sat and how long you buried your thoughts and feelings down. Long enough you forgot how to feel and hear and see. 

That is, until a voice called for you. A voice that kick-started your crumbling heart once more. 

Polnareff was still lying all too stiff in your arms. Still too cold and unseeing and yet--

“Mon coeur?” You turned to find that turtle sitting at the top of the stairs. A turtle who a blue-outlined Polnareff sat out of. So small and so transparent but it was him. 

“Mio Caro?” You responded, tears stinging at your eyes as he crawled closer. This was--was this your image playing some wicked game against you? You wanted with all your heart to believe it untrue but…but you still held his body in your arms. A body which was devoid of any and all things that made Polnareff Polnareff.

“I--I need to ask you something.” His voice wavered and as he grew closer, you could see the matching tears brimming in his eyes. 

Real. This was real. 

“You can ask me.” You said on a near sob as he came to a stop before you. 

“Would you…would you still love me as a turtle?” He asked, something like pure fear in his voice. “You said you wouldn’t.” He whispered, a tear streaking down his red, flushed cheeks. Before he could even blink you were grabbing up that scaly turtle and holding him close. Taking in its warmth and its breath and its being alive.

“I lied. I would still love you as a worm or as a frog or as a turtle. I don’t care as long as you are with me.” You felt a warm brush of air caress your cheek and found a small, ghostly hand belonging to the man you loved there. “Let’s leave Italy, yes? Let’s go anywhere but here. Please, amore.” Polnareff nodded, a small pulling to his lips. 

“As long as I’m with you.” He agreed. You gave a shaking breath as you gave a nod of your own. 

“As long as I’m with you.”

<- previously

[trashm0utheds]

thinking how young adult & adult Richie tried to date like he actually tried.

he's charismatic and outgoing, so i know a lot find him attractive. when he becomes famous, he takes this to his advantage and asks out men and women (just for the headlines or whatever).

but they couldn't go through him. no one couldn't. cus nobody is like his Eds.

when he makes jokes and threw in some banters, they don't blush and laugh or counter back because they aren't like his Eds. none of them are concerned for Richie's health when he smokes so much because they aren't like his Eds. none of them talk to him about comics or movies or music because they aren't like his Eds.

so when adult Richie meets the Losers after a few years and he ses Eddie, his love for him only grows. it's nice to have someone laugh at his foolishness and get angry when he makes mom jokes. to have someone be genuinely caring and look out for you.

it's nice to have the warm presence of his first love around, so he takes every second by heart and keeps Eddie close.

[itsarandomblog]

I think, for a while, Camila would be really mad at Lilith. She left without a trace then she kissed sided with Adriel, and they lost Ava coz of it, resulting in Bea leaving the Order. And Lilith would feel... irredeemable and nothing really mattered but the Holy War but every time she flies over to OCS hq (coz she likes to check up on them if they're preparing), she'd see Camila training new recruits, and being ruthless, the way Lilith used to be on the woman, but then be a cinnamon roll after that, helping the one she just beat over the mat, and Lilith just, you know, wants to apologize. Make it right. Lilith doesn't really care about the others. Camila's forgiveness was all she needed wanted.

So one day, in the middle of the night, she teleports to Camila's room and comes face-to-face with an angry cinnamon roll with a divinium dagger in hand against her neck. Lilith didn't teleport away, she let the blade cut her neck, but her wings unfurled involuntarily.

And the scene might go like this:

Camila, with unshed tears, "Give me one valid reason not to slit your throat right here, right now."

Lilith, mustering up all the courage, knowing she would might die that night, "I'm sorry. For everything."

Then Lilith would fall on her knees, head bent down, neck exposed, while Camila would look down on her, blade on her hand. Slowly, she pointed it down at her neck and Lilith closed her eyes, waiting for the blade, believing she deserves whatever punishment Camila would give her.

Then she'd hear a clang beside her, the dagger near her knees.

Lilith, being all confused, would look up, and see a crying Camila, shaking. With anger or with sadness, she wasn't sure.

For a while, they stayed like that.

Lilith, wings unfurled on her side, kneeling in front of Camila.

[preyduo]

manburg cquackity was chubby and in las nevadas era he lost a lot of weight because of how bad his mental health was and cwilbur was revived and he was also skinny from limbo and as their relationship got better they gained weight again and lived happily ever after. btw if you even care

[razberrypuck]

anyway ummm the other codes are gonna disguise themselves as the rest of the dead eggs and qcharlie's gonna enter his single father of four arc its true cucurucho told me themself

[hotmessteaparty]

I think that speaks for itself 😂

[mintnanilla-extract]

hey everyone I’m back to say that I regret ever getting so emotionally invested in our flag means death because I don’t think I will ever feel true happiness again!!

[sharpicefire]

Yo can we give Tory a fucking break please? She deserves so much better