#Subtle Betrayal

[wickedzeevyln]

Smoke and Mirrors

Let me weigh on this for you, my friend. Of the long-winded wishlist of everything you are not—perfect is something you cannot be. It wasn’t about words. It was never words. It couldn’t be. Not with all his whining. It was about his promise—the way you leaned into the bond like a boxer sizing a lanky opponent. A twig ready to snap against the surging wind. His embrace, lukewarm at best, is…

[just-trying-my-best-everyday]

Now we finally got confirmation that the show is just giving Percy knowledge because of ✨✨ Plot✨✨ thus making him seem super fucking smart.

In the book, Percy arrives at the very logical conclusion that the "betrayed by one who calls you friend" line in the prophecy referred to Ares, who pretended to be his ally. This was still a bit iffy to him, but it made sense. And it was LOGICAL! I liked that a lot! Percy had no way of figuring out it meant Luke.

But in the show he just... Figures it out. How? Fuck you for asking, that's how!

[khattikeri]

nie huaisang may say "i don't know" all the time but the person who Really doesn't know or even want to know is lan xichen. thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[skrunksthatwunk]

i finished kaiji pt 3 btw and they did not lie! the young master wants kaiji carnally

[jellisdraws]

It’s always a fascinating thing to watch a number of your mutuals latch onto a character you would not touch with a 10 foot pole.

This is about Illario Dellamorte, yes.

Not to yuck anyone’s yum, it just genuinely kind of threw me for a loop because whatever the attraction is missed me completely.

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio for October 21, 2017; #148.

Subtle Turnhips “Las Bas”

Cheater Slicks “My Position On Nothingness”

Cende “Don’t Want To”

These Are Powers “Little Sisters Of Beijing”

Betrayers “White Horse”

Mary Bell “Trash Tongue”

Bits Of Shit “Patrol”

Gentlemen “Military Style Massage”

Sewers “Drive The Nail”

Street Eaters “Tailings”

Spray Paint “Day Of The Rope”

Comets On Fire “Blue Cathedral / The Antlers Of The Midnight Sun”

Yes I’m Leaving “Four Chorder”

Deaf Wish “Mum Gets Punched In The Face”

Metz “Raw Materials”

Unstoppable Death Machines “Wasted Land”

Deluxe noise rock and garage.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Sailing By Gemini’s Star

final book in a historical fiction trilogy

following a group of pirates creating a free society on Nassau, stealing from the crown and freeing the enslaved

particularly focusing on the son of a naval captain who ran away to become a pirate, and the complicated relationship he has with his family and adopted brother - with their decades long feud coming to an end as England tries to stamp down on piracy

focuses on familial and platonic relationships, found family, everyone’s queer, aroace MCs

[nofacednerd]

I love episodes like this where were occasionally reminded that the main four are actually extremely intelligent, especially Boimler who's usually just used as comic relief (mostly in earlier seasons)

[rawliverandgoronspice]

One thing I really like is that the whole Unhallowed Vespers trilogy (so Litany, Descant and Antiphon) is that is really served as my brainstorming test grounds for Thralls.

There are ideas in there I realize I don't like as much as I thought in hindsight, or conflict with other stuff I decided I'd rather pursue instead, and I get to have explored them before committing to those in a more long-form kind of project --or some that are too subtle or complicated to be carried out outside of writing (mostly thinking of a ton of Ganondorf character details, some things about gerudo culture that I want to tweak, characters that are getting axed because We Don't Have Time, etc).

On the contrary, there are things I set up in there I never actually got to explore, and I get to pull out that thread in here instead (basically every single of the hylians' character arc roughly, Nabooru, even Impa in a way). It's pretty weird and interesting to revisit the same core ideas twice, but in a different medium and with different character arcs in mind starting off the same thing.

[ravenousgoblin]

Me trying not to laugh when Anthony said “teared” and not “tore” in S2 Ep32

[rosyfingered-moon]

Living for this post-escape attempt angst!!! Oh Moxi, we’re really in it now

[quiddie]

I could have swore I mentioned this during like the Twitter spaces chat, but maybe not! Coramar is 100% a non-English portmanteau for “heart/to love” because her family historically worshipped The Arch Heart, with the alliterative C/K names to match. Her fidget (never described because it ultimately wasn’t important) was shaped like the crescent moons of their symbol, too!

Not knowing the direction the story would ultimately go in, I built some lore hooks to connect LCS to a deity if necessary. Gotta stay ready!

So yeah, good catch! And I love the LA Domunus vibes!

I know I've mentioned Bolo being cake in Portuguese (and the mispronounced Bola being Ball) but Idk if people know Porco, from Patia's surname, means Pig in Portuguese (and other romantic languages that use it as an alternative word for it) and I wish Marisha had talked more about it, if it was intentional or not.

[writing-chats]

the look of love (for writers)

"it's all in the eyes i was once told"

catching the stare of someone across a crowded room

subtle furrowing of eyebrows beyond a blank facade

coldness easing into warmth

a fond mothering gaze

corner of the lip nudged upward

forced glower/glare as they break underneath

batting their lashes, playful

a boisterous laugh

intrigue piercing the stoic

proud smugness at the other's success

lingering glances

a childish joy bursting through

pupils dilate

eyelids shut in a look of peace, calm and trust

look of longing/betrayal

"there was once a time when they were mine"

terseness

features fold into a scowl

an urgent flinching back

coldness returns (as though the warmth had never come)

lips part then purse

invasion of shock

slow stare at the floor

the ripple effect of a swallow

frustrated breath/sigh

bitter laugh in reminiscence

dread tearing through the seams of their composure

look of hatred

"darkness"

mean smirk- teeth bared grimace- scowl

dismissive gaze

gaze of contempt/impatience

threat lowering the voice

sardonic goading grins verging on manic

rolling one's eyes

flicker of irritation in the eyes

stares stubbornly ahead despite distraction

gritted teeth, clenched jaw

fierce biting remarks

even measured complexions betraying no thought

strangling oneself back from violence

utter apathy

murderous silence hanging in the stare

snobbish laughter

smiling at another's downfall

[luna-azzurra]

10 Quiet Ways Your Character Is Breaking Their Own Heart (And Pretending It's Fine)

These are the betrayals that aren’t loud. They don’t come with fireworks or screaming matches. These are the small, slow deaths. The ones that your character lets happen... while smiling politely.

» They say yes when they desperately want to say no. Every. Damn. Time. They show up when they're exhausted. They agree to things they hate. They make themselves smaller, softer, easier, because "good people" don’t make waves, right? (Spoiler: they're drowning.)

» They keep chasing people who only love them halfway. It's not even subtle anymore. They know these people leave them on "read," show up late, make them feel like an afterthought. But they cling anyway, spinning every scrap of affection into a story about hope. (It’s not hope. It’s hunger.)

» They refuse to believe good things are meant for them. They’ll hype everyone else up. They’ll believe in everyone else's dreams. But when something finally good lands in their lap? They’ll panic. Push it away. Tell themselves it was a fluke. (Because being disappointed feels safer than being lucky.)

» They’re waiting for closure that will never come. An apology. An explanation. A miracle where someone says, "You were right, and I was wrong, and I’m so sorry." They wait years. Decades. Lifetimes. But deep down, they know: some people never come back. Some stories just end without punctuation.

» They’re hoarding all their "almosts" like treasures. The job they almost got. The love that almost worked. The version of themselves they almost became. They replay those maybes like a greatest hits album. (Meanwhile, real life is slipping by while they mourn possibilities.)

» They’re performing a version of success they secretly hate. Look at the Instagram. Look at the LinkedIn updates. Look at the shiny exterior. It looks like winning. But every trophy they collect feels heavier, not lighter. Every promotion tastes a little more like ash. (Turns out, chasing someone else's dream is still losing.)

» They forgive people who aren’t sorry. Not because they’re enlightened. Not because they’ve healed. But because it’s easier to pretend it didn’t hurt than to sit with the fact that it did—and that the person responsible doesn't care. (Some wounds scar better when you stop pretending they were accidents.)

» They punish themselves for still being soft. The world told them, again and again, that soft things get broken. And they believed it. So every time they feel too much? Every time they cry or hope or trust? They tell themselves they’re weak. Stupid. Embarrassing. (They're not. They're just still alive.)

» They downplay their own magic. They call their talents "lucky breaks." Their beauty "average." Their intelligence "no big deal." They shrug off compliments like they're dangerous. Because deep down, they've been taught that being remarkable makes you a target.

» They cling to the idea that if they just work harder, they'll finally be enough. They believe in meritocracy like it’s a religion. That if they hustle hard enough, self-sacrifice deep enough, burn themselves to ash perfectly enough, someone, somewhere, will finally say, "You're worthy now." (They were always worthy. The system is just broken.)

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Stepping through the door of his apartment, Xavier freezes at the sight of you curled up on his couch. The dim light of the entryway casts long shadows across your sleeping form. His eyes soften as he approaches on silent feet. For a moment, he simply stands there, studying your peaceful face. He carefully removes his jacket and places it over your shoulders.

“You’re here,” he murmurs. A half-empty cup of tea sits on the table—long gone cold. His fingers hover over it briefly, a subtle furrow appearing between his brows. He hadn’t expected you to be here since you didn't text him anything besides ‘take care!’ a few hours ago.

“See you in the morning,” he whispers, brushing hair from your face. The exhaustion starts to catch up with him from the mission. Xavier settles on the carpeted floor, content to watch over you until morning—with his hand holding yours, and his head resting beside you.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The apartment is quiet when Zayne unlocks the door, shoulders heavy with fatigue after the unexpected emergency surgery. His steps falter when he spots you asleep on the couch, the book still open on your lap. Quietly removing his coat, he approaches with quiet steps, taking in the scene with a mixture of slight exasperation and fondness.

“I told you not to wait,” he mutters, though there’s no real reproach in his tone. He marks your place in the book before setting it aside. Then, he lifts you with careful hands—the same hands that saved a life hours earlier—and carries you to bed. As he tucks you in, he smiles before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You never listen,” he whispers, affection evident in his voice despite his words. Before joining you, he retrieves a small candy from his pocket, and places it on your side of the pillow as a silent gesture of appreciation.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

Rafayel bursts through the door, ready to regale you with how annoying the people were or how stuffy the place was or how the traffic wasted his time on the way. His entrance halts abruptly when he spots you asleep on the couch, clearly having dozed off while waiting for his return.

“Oh? What’s this?” he teases softly, though you can’t hear him. He studies you like he’s admiring his art on the canvases, memorizing the way moonlight plays across your features.

“You were waiting for me. How sweet,” he murmurs, gently brushing your cheek, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your skin. He settles beside you, pulling you against his chest without waking you.

“We’ll greet each other properly tomorrow,” he whispers into your hair, joining you to sleep.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The door to Sylus’s private residence opens with barely a sound, his commanding presence entering the space with calculated steps. He looks amused when he discovers you asleep on his bed, clearly having attempted to wait for his return.

“What a pleasant surprise,” he remarks quietly. Approaching with silent footsteps, he observes how peaceful you look—a stark contrast to the ruthlessness he demonstrated hours earlier when dealing with a betrayal of his ‘employee’.

“You could have demanded I return sooner,” he settles onto the bed beside you, careful not to disturb your slumber, “I would have obliged.”

His admission comes easily even in your sleep. He props himself up on one elbow, content to simply watch the rise and fall of your chest, the slight flutter of your eyelids as you dream. His fingers hover above your cheek but don't make contact—reluctant to wake you.

It’s not his time to sleep yet, but his other work can wait.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The gathering continues in full swing, but Caleb’s attention has shifted entirely to you, noticing your struggle to keep your eyes open despite your polite attempts to hide your exhaustion.

He calls his adjutant to escort you home safely. You protest immediately, reminding him of your plans to watch a movie together later—the one you've been talking about all week. Your resistance only softens his expression momentarily.

“The movie will still be there when I return,” he whispers. “I won’t be long.”

An hour later, he enters his place quietly. He pauses at the doorway, taking in the sight before him—you’ve fallen asleep on the couch, the television still playing the opening menu of the movie you had insisted on watching while waiting. A spread of snacks remains largely untouched on the coffee table.

He chuckles quietly before lifting you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he carries you to bed, whispering, “I have a day off tomorrow. I promise we’ll do anything you want.”

[thcmcnstcr-a]

@painmon asked; “ If hell is forever, then heaven must be a lie. ” [ for the hazbin verse! ]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ— "And lying is a sin, I've heard. Don't worry. Every sinner burns. Heaven's day is coming." And she was going to play a part in that even if it ended up killing her again.