#but he understands that that still COULD have been avoided. it could have all been avoided and he probably could still be spider-man.

[arieslost]

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

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[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 12)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

(LISTEN… this story has gotten out of control and I need help.)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

“It’s alright, child.” Sera’s moods swung round like a revolving door. She could change and bend from someone motherly to a raging Force to an uninvolved observer in a millisecond. “You don’t know any better.”

She reach out and placed a hand on your cheek, perfectly warm and loving in her caress while her eyes remained like flint against the loveliest of features. “Everything has come to pass as it should. You’ll understand in time.” 

It made you sick. Your skin grew clammy as an acidic substance shot up your esophagus and your whole body pitched backward to escape.

You would’ve taken hours locked away with that asshole Adam before you stood another minute being condescended to by the Seraphim.

You were sulking, and you knew it, but you couldn’t stop. 

The building that you had been taken into to meet Sera in the first place served as some sort of Capital. It was grandiose and reached so high up that you couldn’t see where the damn ceiling ended. Perhaps it didn’t. 

You had to take great pains to escape it, navigating among high-ranking angels of all kinds filtering from both the ground and air above you in orderly chaos. It quickened your step to notice that a number of them did a double-take at seeing you. 

           They resembled different things, just as the angels outside did, although most of them appeared human-like. You wondered briefly if there was a rhyme or reason to it, or if God chose to make the woman you barely avoided running into resemble a moose because it made Him laugh. 

Once you’d escaped the war room, you had immediately breathed a little easier. Still, you continued on until you physically felt the tiny shocks and electric currents of warning ebb from your skin. It was as if Sera’s essence had stuck to you, her presence clinging to your frame to make a longer impression.

It had your skin tightening, muscles clenching as a chaotic flood of anxiety and fear prevented you from walking solidly. Too many ‘what if’s’ took you in and out of awareness, making you stumble over nothing. 

It had crossed your mind that Emily did not appear before you’d made yourself scarce. A part of you had wondered at that, feeling as though she’d have waited for you out of some concern for your wellbeing. 

Perhaps that was all for show, however. Sera was clearly excellent at appearing benevolent, and Emily had looked toward the Seraphim for guidance in front of you. It stood to reason that Emily could also be two-faced. 

The logic was sound and yet it made you wince, whether from shame at your incorrect judge or character —

‘Or how much she reminds me of Lucifer.’

You imagined Emily looking at you while stripped of any warmth and compassion. She quickly changed, morphing into Lucifer with hollow, unfeeling red eyes. 

It hurt.

—

Panic had you frozen in place a time or two before you’d gained a wide enough berth to stop. 

Beforehand you’d walked clouds so polished and flat you’d swear they were glass, amidst the more general population of Heaven with your arms wrapped around yourself. It felt needed when even those outside the Capital looked at you with interest, as if they knew. 

Maybe they did. Was it against the rules to keep secrets in Heaven? 

“We are literally judges, juries and executioners in Hell.”

“Executioners?” 

“What’re you talking about?” 

The recollection of a seemingly insignificant moment drew you to a halt. You stared at the pristine ground, fists knocking at your sides. The confusion on your face doubled when you looked up. 

Your ‘wide berth’ had led you far away from the crowds of perfectly content angels and their sleek, futuristic buildings. Farther than you’d anticipated, as ahead of you lay a line of trees that thickened into a dense forest. 

Like Earth, Heaven had a variety of terrains — or so it would seem. Child-like curiosity had you crossing the line between airy openness and into the thicket of pines. All varieties of fir, pine, and larch coexisted with one another, bowing and swaying in the wind. There was nothing to be afraid of, but a sense of oddity hung in the air as you walked a perfectly sculpted path. 

The smell of damp earth and lilies rose from the ground at your feet. A warm breeze rustled the hair that hung limply around your face. Birds sung merrily above you, flitting from branch to branch. 

It occurred to you that no matter how deep you traveled into the woods, the sunlight never waned. 

And yet faintly you heard roaring. It was distant but growing louder with every step you took. 

It was not an animal nor man calling out to you from far away. You felt the change as the smell of sap intermingled with that of salt on the wind, and the floor turned from nettles and moss to pale sand. 

You rubbed your eyes as the trees parted and seemed to disappear as they revealed a beautiful, sparkling sea. 

Sun cast off the surface of the ocean, bouncing against a kaleidoscope of multicolored clouds surrounding it. And you had Dejá vu before blinking away the flash of purple and honey in your eyes. 

You watched tiny waves as they fell against the shoreline, seafoam disappearing within moments. It continued, mesmerizing you, as you ambled toward it. When the water finally rushed over your feet, it carried tiny seashells that scuttled around you. And unlike the ocean you were familiar with, this one was a perfect temperature, no acclimation required. 

For the first time since arriving in Heaven, you felt yourself smiling genuinely. 

You gave into the urge to squish the wet sand between your toes and waded into the water up to your ankles. Your worries began to wash away with each pull of the tide, slow and steady. 

Eventually, you meandered away from that singular spot and began to trek parallel to the shore. The sun never got in your eyes nor did the sand get whipped up and blow into your mouth. Everything from the waves to the breeze was gentle. 

As were the eyes that were upon you. 

As soon as you felt that stare, you stopped in your tracks. Just the thought of turning to them was daunting. 

You don’t have to look, but you do. 

There’s a woman with you now, with hair so long and blonde it’s almost white. Her chin, lips, nose, and eyes are delicate and soft.

—

Eve had lingered upon your every step once you’d arrived in her neck of the woods. 

She was glad to see that the effects of the beach it hid were enough to soothe you, even if it was more of a distraction than a cure. You deserved something good, even if it was relatively meager compared to everything you’d endured up to this point. 

Your figure grew smaller as you crossed the sand, away from the first woman’s hiding spot. You were none the wiser, engrossed in the soothing give and take of the water. It made it easier for Eve to creep up the beach only a few paces away, free to follow your path without ruining your tranquility. 

It reminded Eve of a simpler time when she was the one being eyed curiously from afar. 

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Forgive me if I forgot to tag you or the tags don’t work, I don’t know what that keeps happening.

[poisonedfate]

bbc merlin - 02x13 The Last Dragonlord/04x01 The Darkest Hour, Part I

the thing about these scenes is that obviously they are friends. you could argue that in 02x13 arthur does actually believe his words, but they've already been through so much that anything less than friendship would honestly be ridiculous, even if he doesn't quite see it - though i think he does.

i think the main point here is that both arthur and merlin in their respective scenes are trying to achieve something. in 02x13 merlin was closed off, upset, wouldn't speak to arthur. so he did what he always does - tried and tried again. to me, the friend line is an invitation, a reminder, that they are friends - or "could be" as a way to not push his luck with wording, that merlin should be able to tell arthur what's bothering him. beyond that, it's also a joke, a nudge, a kind of effort to make merlin smile, even if his aim is more serious than that.

now 04x01? it's a callback. they've just talked about their worries, arthur admitting his fear of dying, merlin attempting to calm him down, because at the end of the day, he knows he'd step in given the chance (and, yknow, they're also...friends). but again, it goes further than that, the lines just before this - arthur makes a point of still not having merlin figured out, which is kind of a theme through these conversations, where merlin will keep parts of himself hidden and arthur will try to figure it out anyways.

of course, it's not all exactly the same - the roles are reversed in 04x01, but that is the point. it's merlin attempting to tease, to make arthur smile by referencing the way those conversations go, how arthur often avoids calling them friends or what not, which i think is made clearer by the lines that follow - ones that do make him smile. you can also see merlin consider throwing out the friends line before he actually does it, because it does require arthur to remember or in the least understand what merlin is doing. this could be debated, but i think arthur does get it, even if it doesn't immediately work the way merlin intended.

it's almost never just about what they say, it's about what they don't say.

[hart269]

Slithering Hearts

Chapter 5

Pairing : Regulus Black x Fem! Reader

Synopsis : You begin an unlikely friendship with the little Black. And soon your whole life seems to have become a tumultuous pathway. The catch, James Potter is your brother.

Note : Seek the stars.

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

The first quidditch match of the year was gonna start soon, even though you had not such interest in the game, you were still sitting on the bleachers, immersed in your book. Learning everything and more was a motto of yours, you had Fliwick and Slughorn impressed and ready to teach you the advanced stuff. Professor Mcgonagoll was clever yet kind. But it was in defense against the dark arts, you had to strive, cause just as the rumors stated, the teacher changed every single year.

The horn blew and the players entered the field, their green robes flicking beneath their feet as they moved forward. Your eyes swiftly shifted to the newest addition to the Slytherin team, who stood with nothing but a expression etched in stone. That's how it has mostly been since the start of 2nd year, you could only imagine all what happens in the grimmauld place.

Not that you didn't know, you had been exchanging letters most of the system, it was a well established system. After Walburga almost catched your letter, Regulus had sent you a panicked one to not send him one in such a time that his mother might see. Since then, he received your letters at twillight, while you received his at midnight.                                                                                        

The horn blew again, indicating the beginning of the match, all players mounted their brooms and took off soaring. Amelia jumped next to you, "I'm so excited, who do you think will win?"

"Whoever gets the snitch" you remarked, looking at the seekers. It was a Slytherin vs Ravenclaw match, although Regulus was good, the Ravenclaw was a 4th year, so naturally nothing definite could be concluded. Not like you had hopes on any particular one.

Your eyes shifted between the game and the book, until it became too intense and you were solely watching the game. The players flew wildly, with little understanding and Amelia explaining most of it, you were able to conclude some things. The game was in full motion when Regulus stopped mid air, causing the other seeker to stop too and look around in confusion. Regulus raised his hands and in his palm was the golden snitch. The whole side of Slytherin students stood, and jumped in excitement. The match was won.

The after party was held in the common room, filled with people dancing and cheering, you were sitting at the corner, having a rapid discussion with a drunk 6th year, though it did end quickly leaving you bored.

Your eyes wandered until they landed on a tuft of raven hair, who was sneaking out. Considering you had nothing better to do, you sneaked out after him, until you reached the top most floor of Hogwarts, the astronomy tower. Regulus sat on the floor infront of the big balcony, "Aren't you coming?" you jumped at the unexpected noise, he hadn't even turn around, damn him.

You sat beside him, marveling at the stars scattered shining across the plane, the view up here was breathtaking.

"Why are you not at the party" he asked.

"It was boring, besides I saw the star seeker leaving, thought it'd be more interesting" your cheeky reply earned a quiet chuckle, "Star seeker is a bit too snobbish, don't you think".

You shrugged, "I think it's perfectly fitting". You laughed at his groan but then you turned somber,  "Reg"

"Huh" 

"Everything's okay?" you looked at him pointedly, not letting him avoid the topic.

"Why won't it be" he replied avoiding your gaze, "It's the usual, just a bit more" his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"You know you can talk to me right" you said meeting his eyes.

"I do know so" he replied meeting your gaze.

"Also I forgot, Congratulations on your first match" you said patting his shoulders.  

     

He paused for a moment before grinning, "Give me your hand.

You lilted your hand curiously, extending it, he place the small golden ball on it. "The Snitch" you whispered excitedly, examining it, it was your first time seeing the hogwarts one up close.

Regulus watched your face scrunch in wonder, "You can keep it, if you want".

You  grinned "Really".

Regulus looked with a smug expression, "Yeah, I'm just gonna get more, star seeker remember"

And so he did, Regulus was one of the reasons Slytherin's performance in quidditch improved and went hand in hand or broom in broom with the Gryffindors who had been previously dominating most of the matches.

However nothing changed for good in the house of black, The black brothers looked plauged everytime they returned from may it be for Christmas or summer break. They refused to acknowledge each other, it was as if a force was pulling them apart. Regulus had not tried to talk to Sirius anymore, claiming it would be worthless anyway. It felt wrong for you to meddle inbetween them, so you decided to just be there for him.

Whenever he returned, it would take you days to get back a genuine smile from him, opening him up little by little. If it were up to you you would have taken him out of there, long time ago. But all you could do, and did do was to be there with him, the astronomy tower became yours hangout place. However it may be, you were glad to be friends.  

@shycreationdreamland @mp-littlebit @girlbooklover555 @godofstory @misacc08 @starchaser-lily

[heauxvibez]

Gentle

warning: angst, mentions of depression/anxiety, fluff. Enjoy!

It had been days since Joe lost his match. It meant he could finally be home, taking a break from the WWE's busy schedule. You were thrilled to have him home, just the two of you for a while. Joe was excited too, or so he thought.

He released a huge sigh of relief when he was told prematurely about the outcome of his match with Cody. He loved work but also missed being home with you, and the flexibility to do what he wanted without having to make huge shifts around his work schedule. The guilt that constantly ate at him for missing milestones in your life would finally be put to ease. Your promotion at your job, your birthday, buying your first brand new car with your hard-earned money, all things he missed out on celebrating due to his work.

But as time went by, you noticed a change in him. His energy shifted dramatically. He became quieter, answering with short sentences and avoiding conversations. He barely ate, only managing to do so when taking his medication.

You had to decline many invitations because he wasn't up for crowds; they made him anxious. The bedroom became his refuge, all he wanted to do was lay in bed and rot. It was starting to worry you.

Joe himself didn't understand what was happening. He wanted to shake off this feeling, but it clung to him stubbornly. It was like he'd forgotten his place in life, his roles as your husband, friend, and son. He felt worthless. As the Tribal Chief he knew everything, life was in his control, he was in control. Nothing could phase him when he was his alternative self. His bronze skin was as thick as ever.

But as Joe, he was vulnerable and soft, his hands could barely grasp the concept of life outside of the arena. He believed that he'd let everyone down by missing important moments, especially you. Despite your support and pride in him, he couldn't shake the feeling of being resented. His anxiety whispered that you all hated him, leading him to isolate himself in the room. He thought that by avoiding interaction, he'd be less of a burden.

You were left in the dark, unsure of what was happening with him. You didn't want to jump to conclusions, but you couldn't ignore the signs of either depression or anxiety. It was a delicate situation; you didn't want to say or ask the wrong thing and risk pushing him away. You were at a loss for how to approach him without causing further distress.

"Babe..", you called out as you cracked open the door. Your head peaked in to reveal him bundled under the sheets.

"Hmm?" he hummed back, avoiding looking in your direction.

The room matched his mood—dark and cold. You approached him cautiously, arms crossed before quickly relaxing them, not wanting to convey that you were mad or upset in any way. Squatting beside the bed, you met his gaze. His hair was tousled, covering his face like cobwebs, his eyes red, lips downturned. He looked miserable.

He almost melted at the feel of your fingers feathering through the knots of his tangled beard. He hadn't groomed himself in days, so he looked a mess. But to you he still looked like perfection, just needed a little love. You searched his face, to him it felt like judgment, but for you...you were just looking for any sign of your loving husband.

"You okay?"

That question alone almost unraveled him. His eyes shut tightly, becoming a dam for the flood of tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He covered his face with his hand when he could no longer contain the wave of emotions. He shook his head, answering your question.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry. I'm sorry", you pleaded. You didn't know what to expect. You thought it would take a while to break through his tough exterior.

Not wanting to overwhelm him, you hadn't moved. You stayed squatted in your position, stroking the side of his face that wasn't covered by his huge hand.

"Talk to me, baby. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong," your voice, soft and gentle, began to ease the tension. It seemed to pull him back from the brink of a panic attack.

"Breathe, just talk," you urged. He took a deep breath, his exhale brushing against your face. His hand fell away from his face, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and watery eyes. You met his gaze, your own eyes welling up with empathy. You fought back your tears, wanting him to feel safe expressing himself.

Joe tried to speak but faltered, closing his lips and shaking his head. He was at a loss for words, unsure of how to begin.

You let out a gentle sigh as you brushed his greasy hair away from his face. He hadn't bothered to wash it in days, neglecting self-care. As your fingers ran through his strands, an idea dawned on you. With a small smile, you met his sad eyes.

"It's been a while since you washed your hair, huh?" you remarked.

He nodded, still focused on you.

"How about we have a little wash day? I just got some new hair care stuff," you suggested.

There was a moment of silence as he considered it. He didn't want to leave the safety of the room, but he was also bothered by his oily, limp hair.

"Yeah, that sounds nice," he replied softly.

"Yeah? Let's go," you said, standing up and offering your hand. He slowly rose from the bed, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the kitchen.

Since childhood, your family had always washed hair in the kitchen sink. Moms, aunts, and cousins would have you lay flat on the counter, and it was always your favorite part of hair care, like a special ritual.

Your hair care routine had evolved. With the right products and tools, you felt like a pro, especially during tasks like washing your hair. Now, wash days were more enjoyable, and you loved washing your husband's hair too. It was a favorite bonding activity.

"Okay, lay down on the counter," you instructed.

One perk was your spacious kitchen, allowing you to recreate the wash days you cherished from childhood. He hopped onto the counter, and a bit of excitement gleamed through his eyes. It had been a while since you shared an intimate moment like this. With his travels and recent struggles, there had been little room for such simple things.

You stepped away briefly to fetch your hair care items. Your favorite line was created by Taraji P. Henson, who understood the needs of tight coils like yours. Today, you opted for the Honey Fresh clarifying shampoo to remove oils from his locs and the Make It Rain conditioner for moisture.

Returning to the kitchen, you laid out the items on the sink: shampoo, conditioner, Denman brush, wide-tooth comb, and a shower cap—everything needed to care for his hair.

You couldn't help but watch as he lay with his eyes closed, fingers intertwined on his belly. Though he didn't show it, he was eager for this wash day, just like you.

Turning on the sink, you tested the water temperature with your fingers, ensuring it was just right for his scalp.

"Okay, let me know if it's too hot or cold." you instructed. With his eyes still closed he nodded.

The water hit his scalp and you watched as his brows furrowed then relaxed.

"Is that okay?", he nodded once again,

"That's perfect."

The warm water felt like a soothing touch on his scalp, the best sensation he'd felt in days.

"Good," you smiled, running your fingers through his hair. It took a moment for the water to penetrate his hair, the oils causing it to bead off into the sink. The touch of your nails on the back of his neck sent shivers down his spine as you worked the water through his hair.

"Alright," you murmured to yourself as his hair drank in the flowing water. With a twist, you shut off the tap, the room now silent. You placed the detachable head back in its place, and your fingers found the shampoo bottle, releasing a dollop into your hand. With a soft sigh, you worked the dollop into a nice lather with your palms.

You started at his hairline, the pads of your fingers tenderly grazing his scalp. Purposefully avoiding using your acrylic nails, your touch was feather-light. You wanted to cocoon him in bliss and make sure that he was as relaxed as possible.

Your fingers trailed to the hair behind his ears, a familiar path that never failed to make him weak. His ears, his sweet spot, where the slightest touch made his toes curl. Each time your wrist brushed against his ear, he moaned softly, bringing a slight blush to your cheeks.

"Feel good?" the soft words left your lips.

"Feels great." he confessed with a contented sigh.

His response brought warmth to your heart as you continued your movements, moving towards the center of his scalp where he was often tender-headed. With gentle strokes, you massaged the area, mindful of his comfort. In this moment, you found joy in this simple act of caring for your husband.

Though you wanted to get into deeper conversations about his well-being, you hesitated, not wanting to disrupt the peace of the moment. Instead, you chose to stay silent, allowing your gentle touch to speak volumes. But Joe had other ideas.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled

"Don't be, you haven't done anything wrong," you assured. Although you knew what he meant. He felt remorseful for acting distant and pushing everyone away, but you knew it wasn't his fault. He was grappling with emotions beyond his control, and you gave him space to work through them.

"But I have, I haven't been the best husband lately. Well really in the past few years if we're going to be honest."

"Joe-"

"No, listen.." his eyes were flooding with tears again.

"I have not been the best husband in years. I thought with this time off I'd be able to make up for lost time but the more I sit with myself, I'm wondering am I capable of being a good husband? I don't even know who I am outside of Roman Reigns."

Tears were now flowing freely down the side of his eyes and into his hair. For the past 4 years, he had been an alternative version of himself. He completely immersed himself into a character and with the time he had to actually sit with himself, he realized he wasn't really sure who Joe was.

Tears were now rolling down your face. It hurt to see him doubt himself like this. You knew who he was—Joe and Roman were completely different. It was hard to believe he couldn't see it; he was struggling with imposter syndrome.

You wiped your tears away with your wrist, trying to steady yourself. You needed him to know that you didn't share his negative feelings about himself.

"Well, your feelings are valid, baby, and I never want you to feel otherwise. But just because they're valid doesn't mean they're right."

You rinsed the shampoo out of his hair with the detachable head of the sink.

"You might not see the difference between Roman and Joe, but I do. I'm not in love with Roman; I'm in love with Joe. I didn't marry Roman; I married Joe. Roman is manipulative, selfish, cold-hearted—wicked, even," you chuckled softly. Joe wiped away his tears, mirroring your laughter.

You began to wring the excess water from his hair. It was finally clean. Now, you just needed to condition and detangle.

You reached for the condition and squeezed a quarter-sized amount into your hand. Then you gently spread it through his clean hair.

"But Joe.. Joe is sweet, he's vulnerable, and he would give the shirt off of his back to anyone in need. We all love Joe and we understand that just because you're away it doesn't mean you're neglectful, you're doing what you have to do to support your family. Joe is a husband, he's a son, he's a family man, he's a sweetheart, he's you."

Using the Denman brush, you carefully distributed the conditioner and untangled his hair, avoiding any painful pulls.

"You are not Roman, you are Joe. Do you understand?", you asked, pausing to catch his gaze. He kept staring ahead.

"Look at me," you said softly, but firmly. His eyes met yours, resembling those of a puppy.

"Do you understand?"

His lips curved into a soft smile and he nodded.

"Yes, I understand, baby," he affirmed. Leaning in, you tenderly brushed your lips against his forehead, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath yours. Then, with a gentle passion, you pressed your lips to his, sparking a feeling that had been dormant for too long.

As you pulled away, you couldn't help but shower him with one last sweet kiss on the tip of his nose before getting back to his hair.

"I know it's going to take time for you to adjust, and I understand it won't be easy. But I want you to know, I'll be here every step of the way. I promise," your voice was filled with unwavering support.

Carefully, you lifted his head to secure the shower cap, ensuring his hair received the deep conditioning treatment it deserved for the next 10 minutes.

"Thank you, for everything...I love you," he whispered, his words carrying deep gratitude and love.

"I love you too, handsome," you said, your heart brimming with excitement as you anticipated having your husband return to his true self.

---------------------------

Hope yall enjoyed!

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx @theninthwonder

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hey can I ask you a request?

Basically, I love Anne Sallow x Ominis a lot and I wanted to ask you about the reactions of the various characters who discover the feelings that each other has and maybe get together 💚💗💚💗💚💗

Ps. English is not my language

A/N: I think I understand what you're asking for, but for simplicity's sake, I'm going to give them feelings for MC

HLC REACT TO REALIZING THEY HAVE A CRUSH ON MC

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: The realization hits him like a train. After everything he had dealt with during fifth year, who was still standing with him? Who put up with his shit? Who risked everything for his sister despite barely knowing her? MC. They had become his closest friend, even closer than Ominis, but only now is he seeing them in a different light. The next time their eyes meet, they know.

OMINIS GAUNT: MC had been his peace in the chaos. The rock he could cling to in the storm. He had found comfort in them, but on realizing how deep his feelings were going, he was scared. Surely these feelings would scare them away. He had to be careful going forward.

ANNE SALLOW: She never thought she was the type of girl to fall for a knight in shining armor, but MC literally saved her life. The way they treated her, the way they bent over backwards for her, there had to be more to their feelings than they said. She didn't fall first, but she fell harder.

IMELDA REYES: Panic. No. Nonononono! They are not part of her plan! She is going to graduate school and play professional quidditch with the Holyhead Harpies. She doesn't have time or patience to deal with a relationship. She bottles up her feelings as quickly as she catches them.

NATSAI ONAI: MC has made her feel soft and warm inside since the first day in charms class. Their smile alone could make her feel like kicking her feet like an excited school girl. She doesn't jump to any conclusions, but she does try to ease the idea of a relationship beyond friendship between her and MC as they get to know each other. An innocent butterbeer date wouldn't hurt, would it?

GARRETH WEASLEY: He's kind of oblivious. He knows he likes being around them and he likes getting them involved with his schemes, but he doesn't seem to realize how close he likes to stand next to them in potions class. Or how he takes a little too much joy into making them laugh. MC will probably have to make the first move to make him realize it, then he's just dumbfounded.

LEANDER PREWETT: If MC found him charmingly awkward before, it increases when he realizes he has a crush. He tries a bit too hard to get their attention by opening doors for them and constantly asks where they're going after class. A lot of the times he ends up tripping over something or dropping whatever he's holding. He doesn't mind so much that they're laughing, but he's afraid they'll never take him seriously.

AMIT THAKKAR: He fusses more about how well they're doing in class and if there's anything he can do to help. He figures that maybe he could spend more time with them if they agree to let him tutor them. Especially in astrology. Having MC all to himself in the evening under the stars and a telescope? He can't think of anything better. He has to be careful with his daydreaming, he'll mess up his notes.

EVERETT CLOPTON: He's...not okay. He hates himself for catching feelings. There's no way in any realm of reality that MC would want him. He doesn't even have to go out of his way to avoid MC, they just aren't around him much after flying class. He doesn't think they've ever even gone out of their way to talk to him (Unless they're Ravenclaw). He'll admire from a distance and wait it out.

POPPY SWEETING: She really wishes her face wouldn't be so red around MC. We're going to start asking if she's not feeling well. She tries to play coy, but she's so obvious that it hurts. MC would have to be as thick as a rock to miss the signs. She constantly wants to be around them, always grabs their hand when she wants to show them something, practically stares while they're interacting with beasts, etc. Just don't point it out, she'll get embarrassed.

✨BONUS CHARACTERS✨

ANDREW LARSON: He feels lighter than air when MC enters a room. He knows he's done for. He knows he doesn't stand a chance. He knows they don't even know they exist, but he indulges in their presence while he can. He's not even concerned with wiping the silly grin off his face, it's not like they'll look his way.

LENORA EVERLEIGH: Shy. So very shy. After MC helped her with the mirror puzzle, she got firsthand experience of how nice they could be. From that point onward, when they were around, she'd be too flustered to talk to them again first. She can barely handle being next to them in herbology. She really wishes Professor Garlick would stop asking if she has a fever.

NELLIE OGGSPIRE: She pursues MC like they're a mountain she's dying to climb. She makes her feelings known up front and plain. She'll shrug it off if she's rejected. She already doesn't have them, so what's the difference? If they accept, excellent! They can go on adventures together!

CRESSIDA BLUME: MC was so willing to help her before, perhaps they'll do it again? She intentionally botches up some of her charm work to give her an excuse to have MC's attention. She's put her diary on lockdown, however, the things she writes in there nowadays she doesn't want MC to ever read.

[sarafinamk]

Fallen Angel (Smiling Critters Space Riders AU Reader Insert) Part 4

Summary: Bobby has been dealing with a lot of guilt ever since you went into rehab. Now that you're finally getting released, she's determined to make it up to you.

Two chapters in one day! Let's go! Check out the other parts here. The Smiling Critters Space Riders AU belongs to @onyxonline. Enjoy!

TW: Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Injury, Trauma, Death mentions, Mentions of assassination attempts, Religious Trauma, Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Religious Cults, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Self harm Attempt, Mention of Suicide Attempt, Mental Health Issues, Brief Anxiety Attack, Slight cursing, LOTS of negative thoughts, Implied Abuse, Conditioning

----------

Bobby woke up and shot herself out of bed before her alarm could finish its first beep. She puts on her uniform, goes through her usual routine, and finishes by the time everyone else wake up. The other riders exchange worried glances amongst each other but they say nothing to Bobby.

Today’s the day the riders pick you up from the treatment center so you can continue to serve your sentence with them. Sure, serving your sentence in the same station where they kept the other prisoners would seem like the obvious choice, if you were any other enemy to the galaxy, that is. But the fact is, you’re not, and Commander Ludwig isn’t sure just how many more break-ins he and the medical staff are able to handle.

Of course, word would get around that the Prototype’s archangel was being confined at HQ’s treatment center. To no one’s surprise, anyone with a vendetta and a craving for bloodshed, would try to find you and your cell. You never got hurt, at least. No extra security measures are enough to dissuade them it seems.

Bobby gets herself situated in the cockpit, glancing back and forth between the starry scenery, the clock on the wall, and the navigation tab open in front of Dogday. She sighs while absent-mindedly bouncing her leg hard enough to turn the couch into a massage chair.

“Are you sure you want to come with us, Bobby?” Dogday’s concerned voice pulls her out of her thoughts. “It’s okay if you want to stay behind while we get (Y/n). There’s no pressure. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Bobby gives her best reassuring, confident smile.

“Dogday, I appreciate your concern, but I can’t avoid (Y/n) forever. I have to face them eventually. And I really do want to see them.”

There is a brief moment of silence before Dogday sighs, nods, and goes back to piloting the ship. Bobby goes back to glancing out the window, her smile quickly disappearing.

She didn’t lie. She really wanted to visit you. Just once. Everyone else has visited you at least a few times, but Bobby couldn’t even find the courage to visit you after what happened in your old prison cell. None of her teammates held it against her, but she sure as heck did. She's a trained medic for crying out loud! She shouldn't have been acting hysterical the way she was, especially when you needed her the most. She's dealt with blood and injuries before. She's dealt with a few mentally unstable cultists during her time as a Space Rider. She's even helped out people in similar situations like you before.

No!

She has to remember that she may not have been much help during such a critical moment, but help came to you on time. You’re surrounded by trained medics and from what the other riders have told her, you’ve been recovering well in the treatment center. That's what matters!

Part of her, however, still holds onto the fear that if she visited your cell, she would find you all bloody and on the edge of death again. Some nights, she would have nightmares about that.

What if it happens today?

Soon enough, they arrive at the Space Station. Straightening her uniform and taking a deep breath, Bobby follows Dogday into the station. Thankfully, the treatment center was close to the hangars. It made the transporting of the injured easier for everyone.

The pair stop at the entrance. Dogday looks back at Bobby with a reassuring smile, gesturing back to the hangars. Bobby returns the smile, more sincere and determined this time. She shakes her head and stares at the neon sign above the entrance. She is going to see you today and she will not back down.

Not this time nor any time going forward.

Dogday nods in understanding, and the pair make their way inside. They check in and wait which didn't take long. Dogday sees you first, and greets you warmly. Bobby turns to where her captain was looking and there you were.

You walk out the hallway with two riders and a doctor. Bobby frowns upon seeing the handcuffs on you. She hated the idea of you being locked in a cell while needing to be hospitalized. Sure, you’ve done terrible things, and you served a terrible being, but you must’ve had a good reason. Call her crazy but she believes there is some good in you.

The riders hand Bobby your bag and stand at attention while the doctor and Dogday discuss your treatment plan going forward. Bobby tries to pay attention, but finds herself too busy staring at you. In her defense, how can she not? She's seeing you for the first time in six months.

She was ACTUALLY seeing you without any bandages, bruises, cuts, or that awful mask you always wore. For the first time, Bobby is seeing the real you, the one everyone called the Archangel. Her teammates were right about you. Not only do you look healthier, but you just look...

Beautiful.

Like...

REALLY beautiful.

You glance her way, and she smiles and waves (albeit very awkwardly). You nod in her direction and turn your focus back to the conversation between Dogday and the doctor.

Oh god, this is awkward.

After a brief exchange of thank you's and goodbyes from both sides, Bobby and Dogday quickly escort you back to the ship.

----------

You internally breathe a sigh of relief the moment you entered the Space Riders’ ship. You weren’t sure how much longer you could handle all those eyes glancing your way. You were waiting for someone to come out of the shadows some way and finish you off just like those intruders that try to break into your cell.

Now that thought made you tense up again despite it being only you and the eight Space Riders in this ship. You couldn't sense any other energies in the ship, but that didn't ease your racing mind one bit. Who knows what the Space Riders will do to you now that they are not forced to follow social protocols?

You still have those damn power mufflers on you. Sure, that shouldn't stop you from fighting, but not only are you surrounded by four riders who have celestial powers, but you're surrounded by four non-celestial riders who, unfortunately, handle themselves well in combat. Unless you can outsmart all eight of them and break your power mufflers in the process, you don't see yourself winning this fight. It's best to be smart about all this.

"Okay, so, first things first, welcome back, (Y/n). We're happy that you're here with us," the Captain begins while clasping his hands together, making you stand straight at full attention. "It's okay, relax. It's just introductions. Nothing formal."

You're not sure if this is supposed to be a test or not, but you would rather not risk failing it when you just got here. You continue to stand at full attention, waiting for the Captain to continue. The Captain sighs, and clears his throat before continuing

"Anyways, I know there's a lot to do and discuss, and you probably have some questions. Don't worry, we'll get to that in time. But since this is your first day back, I think it would be best to try and get you settled in. I can show you where you'll be staying and-"

"Actually," interrupted Bobby, "I can show (Y/n) where they'll be staying."

"Are you sure?" the Captain asks with hesitation in his voice.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure."

The only response she is met with is silence. You wait for something to happen: an argument, physical discipline, a speech, or a fair sentence. You never saw the Captain incorporate the type of punishments that the Prototype did.

At least in public anyways.

But now that he is no longer in the public eye, you're not sure if you're ready to witness the truth for the first time, but you prepare yourself for it anyways. Instead, to your surprise, the first thing the Captain does is take the handcuffs off you, but not the power mufflers.

"Okay, if you're sure."

Bobby cheerfully thanks the Captain and escorts you to the direction of the prison cells. You reach the entrance leading to the prison cells, but Bobby just... passes it. Did she not pay attention to where she was going? Why is she passing it?

You want to ask, but you force yourself to keep quiet. She could be looking to punish you for making her suffer with your selfishness. That’s why she never visited you during your rehabilitation. Instead, she leads you to the riders’ sleeping quarters and into one sleeping quarter that you know was never occupied. All the furniture arranged was as you remember it from previous battles except the bed is now neatly made.

“Here we are. Your new room. It’s not much, but I think it’ll be a nice change of environment for you after being hospitalized for almost a year.”

Not much? This is a lot more than what you see in the sleeping quarters back home. This is much more than the cells you were in for the last several months. If this isn’t “much” to the heretics, then what does having a lot look like to them?

“Crafty and I made some clothes for you. She noticed you like having your head covered, so we made you a lot of hoodies.”

You silently take in every little detail of the room.

“This is all mine?”

“Yes, it is. We weren’t sure how you wanted your room decorated, but we’ll figure that out over time.” Why would it matter how you wanted to decorate this room?  At least the Space Riders are giving you, their prisoner, one in the first place. It’s selfish to ask for more than what you deserve. “Picky is making a special dinner to celebrate your recovery and coming back. I’ll come get you when it’s ready. I’ll leave you alone to get settled.” Bobby’s voice cuts off your thoughts, even when you don’t say anything. She smiles and makes her way to the door.

“Thank you,” you say suddenly. Bobby stops dead, turns to you slowly. Her eyes widen.

“What did you say?”

You clear your throat and straighten yourself up. “Considering the fact I’m your prisoner, this is a very generous accommodation.”

Bobby continues to stare at you, and you're questioning if you said the wrong thing already. Not even one hour into your return and you’re already making mistakes. Maybe she’ll change her mind and decide a cell is a more fitting place, but instead of her screaming, or silence and storming away from you, she smiles. “You're not our prisoner here, (Y/n). You're our guest. We want to help you get better. I’m just happy that you’re here with us.”

With that, you are left alone. You hastily dig into your bag which Bobby must have placed in the on the dresser. Thankfully, your journal and the books given to you by Bubba were still there.

You pull one of the drawers and they were full of very thick long-sleeved shirts with hoods. “Hoodies” as Bobby called them. But… which one are you supposed to wear? Bobby never specified which one was mandatory for you, and you couldn’t just ask. You would get punished for not knowing when it should be obvious. You grip the skin of your forearm tightly.

No.

No, no.

No, no, no.

Fight back the temptation to see red! You can’t risk being sent back again. Just take some deep breaths.

In…

Hold…

Out…

Repeat.

Just like the healers taught you. Soon enough, your grip loosens and thankfully, there was no sign of red.

You look back at the drawer of “hoodies.” Since the Space Riders wear white while off duty, then perhaps the white one would be your safest choice. You sigh, hoping that line of reasoning will hold true during mealtime. You relax more when the warmth and softness cover you. The best part was that hood covered your head. It was no mask, but it was better than having your entire head exposed. You were just relieved you no longer had to rely on those infirmary blankets to keep your body and head covered. At least there were no cameras installed in your accommodation… to your knowledge.

Since you had no orders given until mealtime, you decided to explore more of the room. Maybe if you are good, then living as a prisoner of the heretics won’t be so terrible. Maybe you will be able to survive Hell after all.

----------

Stay tuned for the next part "Burn Bright Until You Burn Out"

[smartycvnt]

Title: Talk It Out

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Reader

Word Count: 984

You felt like everything was a bit too much. You had been fed loss after loss on the biggest stages offered. Tonight, however, it felt a little more personal. You hadn't been up for a championship, but it was your first time wrestling in your hometown in nearly five years. You had hoped for a win, to be hailed as a winner in your homecoming match, but instead, you had been humiliated.

You didn't know where you were going as you stormed off backstage. Everybody avoided you like the plague. Anger and discontent radiated off of you in waves. The looks of pity only made it all worse, so you went to the one place where nobody else would know to go.

The years spent working at this venue as a teenager had paid off well. All of the old secrets you had discovered were left how you remembered them. The stairwell leading up to the roof was still well hidden behind a janitor's closet door. You made your way up there, not expecting to be followed. It was supposed to be your chance to truly be alone for a few moments.

"Ash," Rhea called out softly. You didn't turn to look back at her. Still, she approached and sat down next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a fucking loser. He told me things would be different, and the first major live event we have here, I get fucking squashed," you ranted. Rhea placed her hand on the small of your back. Usually, you would have leaned into the touch, but you couldn't handle any more humiliation. "Rhea, don't."

"What?" Rhea didn't bother hiding her surprise. You always leaned into her embraces and touches. It was a simple pleasure that Rhea could always count on. Her feelings for you had always kept her up at night. There was always a little voice in her head shouting at her to say or do something, but Rhea never did.

"I can't handle any more humiliation, so please just don't. Go downstairs and forget that I even came up here," you told her. Rhea's brows knit together in confusion. You sounded desperate and conflicted.

"What's humiliating about being comforted?" You had always been one to champion getting help when you needed it. Rhea knew that she'd be so much worse off mentally if it wasn't for you. You preached self love and care like nobody else, so Rhea really didn't understand why you were pushing her away when it was obvious that you needed someone.

"What happened to being kind to yourself? What happened to accepting love and comfort when you can't give it to yourself?" Rhea asked. She didn't mean to sound so angry with you, but she couldn't help the raising of her voice. You flinched away a little, just as much as you could without moving out of her arms.

"Rhea, please," you pleaded.

"Talk to me. Tell me what's going on," Rhea said. You dropped your head against her shoulder and turned to try and hide your tears. Rhea could feel them soaking through the fabric of her shirt. In that moment, everything around you was Rhea. You relished in the momentary comfort that her presence granted you before it was ripped away. You hated that you got so in your head about Rhea. The two of you had been friends for years, and your feelings had never gotten in the way before.

"I love you," you mumbled against Rhea's skin.

"I love you too, Ash." The way that Rhea said it broke your heart. You had heard it a million times before, and it didn't sound any different. She had obviously heard you, but Rhea didn't understand. Once again, she felt your hot tears begin to soak into the collar of her shirt. "What's wrong? I hate seeing you like this. Tell me what I can do to help."

"You can't do anything. You've got Dom, and I'm stuck here by myself. There will always be a long line of people who come before me, and I thought that I was okay with it, but I'm not. I love you, and I want so much more than what we've got." You were practically sobbing into her at this point. Rhea gently cupped your cheeks as she pulled your face out from the crook of her neck.

"I need you to look at me. I need you to listen to me, not just hear me, but listen, okay?" Rhea gave you a moment to compose yourself before she spoke again, "I love you too. I feel the same way about you, okay?"

"Y-you do?" You couldn't believe it. You needed to hear Rhea tell you again. It would have been your luck for her to not mean it and start laughing in your face. However, that never came. Instead, you felt the gentle press of her lips against yours. You kissed her back, just as gently as she kissed you.

"I love you. I'll say it a million more times if I have to, but there are better ways for me to show you," Rhea laughed nervously. Your eyes lit up as her words registered in your brain. "Let's get back down there. A lot of people are worried about you, and if I kiss you again, I'm not sure that I'd be able to stop myself from doing more. I've wanted this for a long time."

"Me too." You smiled at Rhea as the two of you stood up and made your way back down to everybody else. Rhea had you tucked under her good arm as she walked you to the locker room so that you could get out of your gear and into your regular clothes. A few people came up to check on you, but they kept a decent distance because of Rhea's proximity to you.

[katkit-42]

Ok I'm trying again. I've gotten over the dungeon master pun so I'm gonna say what I actually meant to.

Anime onlys don't look.

So the thing about the dungeon masters is, I know we saw dungeon masters of different races in the epilogue, but I think Rui-sensei was trying to make a point in having three of the four dungeon masters we know best being elves, and the one to actually defeat the demon being a human.

Elves are the longest lived species and they have a habit of treating everyone else as children or pets. They also have the greatest grasp on magic. And it's explicitly said that the elves are the ones who hide the true nature of dungeons and demons from the other races, because they think the other races can't handle it. But it is Marcille, Thistle, and Mithrun who fall to the demon's tricks. Even though the elves think of themselves as above the other races, these three fall to the demon. You could argue that they didn't realize that the demon was dangerous, and it's true, they didn't know. But I'm talking from a meta-perspective--why was it that it's the *elves* who fall for the demon? Because the elves have always been prideful. They think they know better than any other race.

And then we have Laois. And he too falls to the demon. First, I love that because throughout the story, we've had this dichotomy of "Laois loves monsters" and "Laois wants to protect the people he loves". And they have always been treated as mutually exclusive--Laois can't indulge in his monster love without hurting his friends. But then, we see that once his friends give his monster obsession a chance, they can find things they like about it too. Marcille is still creeped out when she thinks too hard about where the food comes from, but she's willing to eat the finished product (which, lbr, is most modern peoples reactions to food). Chilchuck started thinking Senshi and Laois were crazy, but by the end of it, he was ok with it. Even Izutsumi comes around.

And then, Laois gets his wish. To become his super cool original monster oc donut steal. And everyone is prepared for the worst. Everyone thinks this is Laois' betrayal--he couldn't hold back against his monster obsession and thus he will kill all the humans.

Only, he doesn't. It is by becoming this monster that he gains his power to defeat the winged lion. It is his love of monsters and his want to be one that creates his ability to protect the ones he loves. Even though they still don't fully understand him, even though the lion offered him what he always wanted--he used his love of monsters for his friends and family. And really.... That's what he's always been doing. No one else saw it at first, but he has always been using his obsession to help the people he loves. And even at the very end, he did the same.

And anyway, I think that's an important reason why the elves kept falling to the demon. The elves are magical and long lived and wise, but from what we see, they're.... Lonely. They have their strict hierarchy and their stuffy rules with each other, and with other races, they take on the role of sole caretaker to these little things who can't possibly understand the "real world." Even Marcille falls to this. But Laois, who has always been on the outside, never stopped trying to empathize with others. He calls Chilchuck "Chil" (something extremely personal to halflings); he doesn't hold a grudge when Namari leaves the group after Falin dies; hell, even though it didn't end well, his insistence on being friendly with Toshiro was probably him trying to avoid doing to Toshiro what others have always done to him. He adores Senshi and Izutsumi. His succubus is Marcille smiling. He isn't lonely anymore.

And the elves who become dungeon masters, don't seem to have that. Mithrun felt alone due to his lover and brother. Marcille and Thistle both felt like they had to protect their shorter lived family. But Laois didn't feel that isolation. Well, he did in his village. But when meeting with his friends and forming their little party, he realized he wasn't alone anymore. And that became more important than even being a monster.

[kyruskumiho27]

Warnings: •Killing • death •fluff •enemies to lovers •idiots to lovers

Summary: a bond is broken. ( you=pink/ Sukuna=red) lot of yapping in this before it gets to the actual fluff. Not related to the other one, had an idea and didn’t like how that one came out so this is a better, newer improved version.

“What a shame…” you muse, gazing at the man with soft eyes. “What a shame we’re not meant to be..”

He grunts, cocking his head at you. He’s made no attempt to approach you, to even attack you for that matter. His warmth radiates off his skin, shoulders squared like they’re prepared for a fight.

“We could be…” He looked so utterly confident in himself, like he couldn’t imagine anything else could possibly be more difficult.

You quirk a brow. “We’ve been at this longer than expected, longer than imagined.” You snort.

“It could be destiny, why not break our chains and-“

“We are enemies, no?” You interrupt, tilting your head. He grins. “Can enemies not love?”

What a joke. A joke and silly game he’s playing to try and weaken me. And what if he’s right.“There is bo rule saying enemies can’t be lovers… in fact, I think you humans romanticize it.”

“Do you love me Sukuna, truly?”

The question causes him to pause, brows furrowed. Love? How could he love someone, him, a curse. The king of curses.

“I care for you.” He says bluntly, unwilling to admit that he might be, maybe in lo-

“Yet you desire to kill me.”

He rolls his eyes. That is not what he was talking about. But yes. He did want to kill you. For centuries on end it’s been this back and forth between you two. An angel of light fighting the King of curses. And yet, no matter how close he gets, you always manage to slip away.

You giggle to yourself. “Maniac.” His eyes widen in amusement. He could listen to your laughs all day.

Your puffs of air as you try not to admit to yourself that you enjoy the Kings company. Why haven’t you killed him yet? The answer slips past your mind, you can never remember. You were made to destroy him, yes. But you never do so when given the chance.

“You are lonely.” You say, staring at Sukuna. He nods.

“It’s a never ending cycle, never ending battle. I catch you but you always manage to escape. We are doomed for eternity.”

“I am right here.”

“You are.”

So close and yet so far. A slight frown appears on his far. “Just out of my reach.” He sniffs, cracking his back as he gazes upon you.

The definition of beauty and grace.

“Why is that? I am right here.” He huffs.

“I am aware.”

You glare at him. He’s avoiding your questions and your starting to get annoyed. “Why?”

He scowls. “You know damn well why.” He snaps, teeth bared in frustration. That is not a straight answer. You stare at him blankly, frowning.

The truth seems just out of your reach. No matter how hard you try to concentrate, it’s never revealed. Strange. “Kuna.” You call softly. He melts a little inside at the name. Only you’re allowed to say it. To refer to him with such endearment in your voice. He’s most definitely in love. He looks at you.

“Kuna, something is wrong.”

Oh how he longs to touch you, to feel you in his grasp.

“Very wrong.” Your brows scrunched up.

He wants to hold you, to caress you as he crushes you. He wants you to die by his hands, and his hands only.

“The bond..” he breathes, he wants to fuck you, he wants to kiss you and love you and make you his.

Mine. All fucking mine.

You stare at him still, he rolls his eyes once again.

“The bond.” He emphasizes, only to realize you have not one clue what he’s referring to. Have you really forgotten?

“A vow, my dear, a vow I promised centuries ago. To not lay a single finger on you…” You nod like you understand. You do not understand. He sighs. Did she really forget? “Unless…”

“Unless?” He smirks.

Like he’s got you trapped.

“Come closer.” He orders. You almost laugh. “Hwhat?” He scowls at you. “Come closer.”

Oh this is rich. This is fucking hilarious. “Closer, to you. No.” He wants to kill you so bad. “This is not a joke little on-“

“Don’t call me that.”

“This is of serious importance and I demand-“

“Why?”

He heaves a big and dramatic sigh. Why must she be so stubborn? Do you not love her because of it?

“I shall tell you the condition, but I need you to come closer.” You hesitate.

Sukuna is not to be trusted. He’s far from keeping promises and for all you know he could be lying. He could be keeping you alive because of his sick little game. To torment you. But it doesn’t explain why you do the same.

You step closer, just an inch.

“Closer.” Again you take another step, your heart pounding out of your chest.

“And closer more.” Your body trust him, why does your body trust him? You’re confused, for sure.

“And closer.” You take another step. You should be careful. So very careful.

“Just once more.” He urges. And you do, till your lips are just centimeters from each other, and you can feel the warmth of your bodies. Mixing, mingling.

“Say something sweet to me, and I shall tell you.” He wants to hear your voice utter even a tiny compliment before you both die. You frown. “Is this the condition?” He shakes his head no. Just once, he wants to hear your voice just once.

“Your beautiful Sukuna.”

He steps closer to you, hands hovering just near your waist. “Kiss me.”

“That was quick.”

“Do you trust me?”

“No.” A scowl. He didn’t know why but he needed you to kiss him. It was a burning desire, deep in his black heart. “Dearest-“

“Don’t.” You knew. You knew something, but you couldn’t quite figure out what. You gazed at his lips, so perfect. “My Kuna…” you mutter, not intending for him to hear you.

“You said you would tell me.” Your gaze is sharp. He inhales. “You need to kiss me…” he murmurs, just a fraction away from where he wanted to be most.

“Are you-“

“Of course.” His voice held some desperation. He couldn’t be without you. Your eyes trail down to his lips, thinking. “And you shall kill me after this?” You ask. What the fuck?

“Yes.” For some reason, you were not afraid. You step closer, connecting your lips together. Nothing happens at first. And then a searing pain stabs you in the heart.

Finally. He thinks, reaching and cupping your head in his hands. He doesn’t break away from the kiss, shutting his eyes tightly. He breathes you in, all of you, and the pain overtakes him to.

Your hearts wind together, merging into each other in painful desperation.

The air in your lungs becomes his, and his knees weaken. Perfect.

Both your bodies heat up, burning burning burning. Until there’s nothing.

You feel the faintest touch in your cheek, soft and gentle. “Kuna?” You call out.

“Yes love.” He answers. His voice is so warm. So soothing. “Where are you?” You reach your hand out blindly, searching for him. Your hands connect.

“Are you there? Do you feel me?” He asked, wrapping his arms around you. “Yes.” He huma, and you feel it through your whole body. It spreads like a wildfire.

“Where are you?” You ask again. You don’t know why, you can feel him, just a little ways from you.

“‘M right here, just right here.” Fingers intertwine with yours. You hum delight.

The darkness begins to fill with light, trees and birds and noise. “My Kuna…”

“My dearest…”

[sadhornydemons]

Rapid-Spoiler-Season-Speculation: Apology Tour/Ghostf*ckers

Caution: some references are made to other spoilers, so proceed with caution if you wish to avoid.

Apology Tour:

Alright, I'll admit, this episode I think I understand the least, so I'm sure I'm completely off the mark in even attempting to make sense of it.

Cake will be served, and it's clown Blitz version. Heart on an item in the back, heart on the knife. How many years has it been and she's still obsessed?

WHATEVER this is, Blitz didn't just stumble into it, I wonder if some type of invitation got him there.

Blood/red stained sheet for unknown reasons.

I think I'm the only one who preferred the earlier design, but guess I just have a type.

WHAT. DA. FUCK.

Yeah, of course, this is when my imagination starts churning.

Did Stolas reach just the perfect amount of drunk before his Spotify breakup playlist reached Olivia Rodrigo, causing him to throw on last year's Halloween costume and portal himself to his ex so he could express himself properly?

No, Stolas had an entire stage prop production prepared. That or we haven't seen the full extent of his magic conjuring abilities.

(same outfit, I'm keeping my eye on the spiked collar 'cause it's new to his wardrobe)

I don't know what could bring this on. At first, I thought it was a dream sequence, but the spiked collar turns up in a later scene. Maybe I just haven't accepted that my fav character could be an asshole?

Screenshots of Blitz, sheet is now a hoodie, we really don't know what he's looking at in this particular scene.

I don't think this is a full scale concert, though. Probably more of a private event. Maybe Verosika was planning a gathering of the 'We Hate Blitzo' fanclub, but Stolas was the only one to RSVP.

If it is, a public concert, I mean, I can just imagine the headlines:

Prince Stolas shocks audience members by appearing as the opening act in Verosika Mayday's concert, preforming his original ballad, 'Imp Dicks Aren't Worth the Heartbreak'.

And if it is a regular event, there's the possibly Blitz attended on purpose..to apologize about things? (hence the title) I don't know, it just all seems too weird.

As poster bleucaesura noted, Stolas is on his couch in this scene. The red stained sheet, presumably with Blitz under, stand before him. Stolas's collar is spiked, so this seems to happen after the musical number.

This is mainly all the info we have this episode, but looking ahead to future ones, I'm thinking this is gonna conclude the majority of the Stolitz angst. Or at least the current ones.

As many have noted, this season has been following a pattern of focusing on, and occasionally resolving Blitz's relationship problems. Unhappy Campers introduced Barbie properly, adding more details to the fire incident. Oops and Mammon's Magnificent Musical Mid-Season Special added to that by focusing on him and Fizz. Full Moon and Apology Tour seem to be based around Stolas and then both Stolas and Verosika, fitting since it's comparing people from his love life.

Hence, I believe the next episode will instead prioritize Blitz's relationship with M&M:

Ghostfuckers:

The IMP mobile is totaled and appears spray painted. Therefore, guessing this scene must take place first:

But what would cause "a life on the run", as Blitz puts it, unless he wasn't completely serious?

And I'm not sure if the hooded folks, "Come out, we've got your surrounded." scene was edited in before this or not.

There are those clouds in the background and it seems to call for a more scary scene, or at least until he checks his watch.

(actually those could all take place in previous episode or the ones to come, for all we know!)

Blitz wears a bad disguise rather than using an asmodean crystal. We could read too much into that because maybe Blitz just LIKES coming up with disguises, but in other spoilers, we see Blitz using a book for portals.

The enemy is doing bad things to the character's mental health, bringing about their worse fears. In reference to Blitz, I wonder if this is this is where those scenes come into play:

Interesting how it's edited like Blitz watching a filmstrip of his life, complete with a decorative frame.

Shown in a different style, I wonder if this flashback will also be used:

And, (if my earlier theory is wrong), this has to appear somewhere:

We see a flashback to a younger, longer hair Millie (not unlike her wedding photo):

(and it looks like outside a ship? Hey, maybe pirates really did have port windows!)

Which may be used to match up with this fight:

This, however, is hopefully, just another hallucination:

Okay, for the rest of this episode, one can't really speculate because the (looks both ways cautiously) storyboards leaked last year reveal a good chuck of the action and dialogue. So without getting TOO into that, for those who want to avoid getting too spoiled, I'll conclude this episode may turn out to be a fun, scary, but with admittedly triggering subjects, that showcase Blitzø's messy and occasionally obsessive relationship with Moxxie and Millie.

...and possibly new issues with Loona? Something is hinted out, but I might get into THAT speculation in the last two episodes.

[bluewlnteroses]

totally obsessed with the idea of peter not realizing his spider sense is acting up not because he's in danger but because he's flustered around his crush

[bimiio]

<3

[wonder-worker]

Friendly reminder that Francesco Coppino and Prospero di Camulio, contemporaries who were literally getting their information from predominantly Yorkist circles, were both explicitly clear that it was Henry VI who decided to surrender Berwick to Scotland.

Camulio: "King Henry has given away a castle [town] called Berwick, which is one of the keys of the frontier between England and Scotland." Coppino: "[Scotland has] received from the same Henry the town of Berwick, on the frontiers of Scotland, which the Scots have long claimed as their right from the English, as the excellently well furnished guardian of their frontiers, and the place to which King Henry repaired as an asylum after the battle."

The idea that Margaret of Anjou was principally involved in the surrender, or that she was the one who actually made the decision, is based on nothing but assumption. Two direct contemporaries, both speaking of ongoing events as they unfolded, who were both getting information from Yorkist-held England, both clearly believed it was Henry who was responsible for this course of action. Neither of them mention Margaret. Sure, you can argue that it was merely rhetorical, and that they were simply automatically attributing such an important decision to the King rather than the queen - but rhetoric is nonetheless extremely important and helps us understand how historical figures were perceived at the time. Margaret's enemies would surely not have hesitated to broadcast her involvement had it actually been true, and Coppino in particular had shown no qualms about criticizing her in favor of the Yorkists before. If she was genuinely believed to have been responsible, and if the Yorkists were actually claiming that she was at the time, I see no reason why Coppino or Camulio would not have emphasized her role in their letters. What these samples instead indicate is literally the opposite: that their contemporaries - probably including the Yorkists who were putting out the information that Coppino and Camulio reported - actually believed that Henry was the one making the decision. I think it's a very large and very unnecessary stretch to go against actual evidence and claim otherwise by placing the responsibility on Margaret instead.

Additionally, these small samples may also reveal what people at the time - once again including the Yorkists - actually thought of Henry's role in the war on a broader level, away from direct Yorkist propaganda which would obviously and perhaps understandably seek to de-emphasize it: namely, that Henry was perceived as the one making decisions and deciding the courses of action for his own side.

Source: Excerpts from the Calendar of State Papers and Manuscripts, Existing in the Archives and Collections of Milan

[puppynosed]

ok so uhhhhh

[mntcoronet]

"you have general anxiety, you are deficient in several things, and you may also have autism" local doctor states to me. referral for assessment and cognitive ball therapy pending, however