#shatter me slander

[maddiesnowflake]

SHATTER ME TRILOGY REVIEW-

2/5 stars…

Almost every review of this series that I have seen raves about how amazing it is. I have to disagree. For some context, here is the plot summary of book one:

“Juliette hasn’t touched anyone in exactly 264 days.

The last time she did, it was an accident, but The Reestablishment locked her up for murder. No one knows why Juliette’s touch is fatal. As long as she doesn’t hurt anyone else, no one really cares. The world is too busy crumbling to pieces to pay attention to a 17-year-old girl. Diseases are destroying the population, food is hard to find, birds don’t fly anymore, and the clouds are the wrong color.

The Reestablishment said their way was the only way to fix things, so they threw Juliette in a cell. Now so many people are dead that the survivors are whispering war – and The Reestablishment has changed its mind. Maybe Juliette is more than a tortured soul stuffed into a poisonous body. Maybe she’s exactly what they need right now.

Juliette has to make a choice: Be a weapon. Or be a warrior.”

A plot summary for books 2 and 3 really isn’t needed since the storyline is so hopelessly redundant one can barely distinguish each book from the other. Essentially, the main character Juliette is rescued from her prison by the ruggedly handsome Adam Kent. They are taken to a District 13-esque underground base by the comedic relief character, Kenji. A resistance movement against an evil government whose motives are never clearly defined is introduced, a love triangle is formed between Juliette, sexy Adam and bad guy turned good sexy Aaron (who- plot twist- is Adam's long lost brother) , our main character discovers that she’s a super powerful girl boss, she takes down the government, becomes the government….yaddah yaddah yaddah.

My main issue with this book isn’t necessarily the plot. The concept of a person who can’t touch others without killing them is intriguing. The two sexy male characters that are conveniently the only people who can touch her without dying from her powers are obnoxious, but what can we expect from a dystopian YA novel? The thing is, a lot of the issues with this book are issues typically associated with YA novels, and in most books, they can be overlooked. BUT THIS BOOK HAS SOME OF THE WORST WRITING I HAVE EVER READ IN MY LIFE.

The chapters (which vary in length, sometimes 1, 2, 3, or 15 pages long) are fraught with sad attempts at profound metaphors. Allow me to provide you with a few examples:

“Raindrops are my only reminder that clouds have a heartbeat. That I have one, too.”

I've never heard about clouds with a heartbeat, but whatever makes you happy I guess.

“I only know now that the scientists are wrong.

The world is flat.

I know because I was tossed right off the edge and I've been trying to hold on for 17 years. I've been trying to climb back up for 17 years but it's nearly impossible to beat gravity when no one is willing to give you a hand.”

I think we can all agree that this metaphor could've been made without the declaration that the world is flat, but that line will definitely cause the reader to do a double take!

“I am nothing but novocaine. I am numb, a world of nothing, all feeling and emotion gone forever.  I am a whisper that never was.”

.....this speaks for itself. or maybe it doesn't speak, since it's novocaine.

“Every butterfly in the world has migrated to my stomach.”

this imagery both disturbs and confuses me

"My eyes are 2 professional pickpockets, stealing everything to store away in my mind."

quick writing lesson: when a number is less than ten, you write it out in word form!! also what. just what.

"They want to delete every point of punctuation in my life from this earth."

“And we are quotation marks, inverted and upside down, clinging to one another at the end of this life sentence. Trapped by lives we did not choose.”

punctuation metaphors are really a theme here. quite possibly the only theme of this series.

"My mouth is sitting on my kneecaps."

"My jaw is dangling from my shoelace."

"My eyelashes trip into my eyebrows; my jaw drops into my lap."

There are so many other normal ways to just say she was surprised! I simply cannot understand the thought process behind these absurd sentences.

"My stomach is a flimsy crepe, my heart is a raging woodpecker, my blood is a river of anxiety."

"I crumble to the floor, folding into myself like a flimsy crepe."

The fact that a crepe metaphor was used at all, let alone twice in one book, is completely bizarre.

[…]his lips his lips his lips are 2 pieces of frustration forged together.”

This pattern of crossing out and repeating phrases is repeated several times throughout each chapter, and it is sooooo irritating.

To conclude, this book series gave me the same vibes as most soap operas: terrible quality, the plot is filled with intrusive twists that make no logical sense, and the characters have about as much depth as a puddle.

I will admit that I was entertained by this series, hence the two stars instead of one. But I was entertained in the same way a train wreck might be entertaining. This series is so bad it's hilarious. The fact that someone wrote this, reread it, thought it was decent, an editor read this, also thought it was decent, and then had it published is so strange to me.

If you are the type of reader who enjoys plots that aren't thought out whatsoever, if you can stomach the cringiest of writing phrases, if you are okay with the most muddled and rushed endings ever, and if you enjoy the most cliche events possible , you may be able to enjoy this series. Or maybe you can enjoy it while seeing it for the ridiculousness it is. However, if you read this and think that you have walked away with some profound and thought provoking quotes like a majority of people on the internet seem to think, please reevaluate. Expand your reading horizons. Try some classic literature. Or something.

anyways this is not as harsh as it sounds, please don't be offended if you are a huge fan, just my opinion. :)

[dailykugisaki]

Day 124 | id in alt

A little bit of a rematch and my opinion on why you never see Mai's six(seven) shooter again.

Read from left to right.

[anidealistatbestburntoutatworst]

is this mori slander,,, possibly?! but hey at least i put kouyou in a blurb

mori: “and you be careful madam or you’ll turn my pretty head with your flattery.”

kouyou*girlbossing*: “i’ve often wished i could turn your head…. on a spit over a slow fire.”

all the other silly ppl at that long ass table mori conducts his silly little plot altering, earth shattering unreasonably devious meetings: “oh?!!?”

[arolloyd]

I should say tlnm slander is not allowed here on my blog

criticisms (when being discussed) is totally fine tho!!! Just gonna say this here before someone does bring up tlnm slander here lolll

[ellievickstar]

Lover’s Lullaby

A/N: Here’s part 3 of Bloodied Bonds, Part 2 is here, I hope you guys love this as much as I did, I put so much effort into this and I do genuinely apologise for the length of time it took for me to get this out. Thank you so much for waiting I love you all and I hope you guys enjoy!! <3

Summary: Decisions have been made, hearts have been shattered, but can Azriel finally save his beloved?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying, self-sacrificing thoughts

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“You have considered what I said,” She smiled at Azriel, but what once looked sweet and soft now seemed calculated and manipulative.

Azriel went nauseous at the thought of what Elain may have done if the bond had not countered the more extreme effects of the aphrodisiac. Thanking the Mother that all he had done with Elain was hold her hand and even hen he wanted to burn his hands all over again at the very thought.

He really was a dirty low born Illyrian.

And he had not deserved you.

“What do you want from us Elain?” Rhysand snarled, violet eyes brimming with anger.

“Get your fangs away from me Rhysand, do not think for a second that you are in a position to demand for anything,” Elain grinned, “After all, I know how to counter your daemati powers, Azriel himself taught me the basics.”

Casting a glance at Azriel, Rhysand noticed how he had paled significantly, gawking at Elain to remember when he had taught her anything of the sort. Cassian looked all but ready to leap at Elain and tear her to shreds. Rhysand was inclined to do the same.

“Just tell us what you want, Elain,” Cassian ground out. He was tired, sick and tired of being played in this game the middle Archeron sister was playing. He wanted out, desperately.

And he was not even the damned male she wanted.

In all honesty, if this situation had not been as dire as it was, Cassian would have been teasing Azriel for finally being able to attract the females around him.

“I want protection. A guarantee that I will continue to live here, protected by Azriel no matter what,” She smiled sinisterly, “I want a bargain saying that if I tell you how to save your mate you will guard me with your life.”

“But that would mean-“ “Exactly.” Elain smiled again, her amusement dancing in her eyes, malice growing on her face even with the grin plastered on.

Realisation dawned on the three males all at once.

No matter what, Elain would always torment their lives, this bargain only made it that much harder to get rid of her. But it would save his mate…and break her heart at the same time.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel spent half a day agonising over the decision. Rhysand had opted to isolating himself in his study once more and Cassian took his frustration out on a training dummy.

Why?

Why did it have to come to this.

When did it all go wrong?

Cassian wanted to blame himself, in fact a part of him did feel guilty. While helping the Archeron sisters to integrate into their world they had shut her out, and despite her best attempts to assist in any way, Y/N had always been unable to fit in. Like a flip had been switched, he finally recalled every moment where he saw her expressions change, where she masked her pain, her hurt, just to accommodate to them.

After all this time, eventually she had protected them and they had to pay for it. For not noticing.

Wanting to punch himself was an understatement.

Cassian gave his all to the training dummy, recalling how Elain acted, how when Y/N was near Elain would always be cold, how Y/N always dismissed it as just Elain being hostile to her environment, how when Y/N lashed out because she was tired of being treated like shit by Elain, Cassian, Rhysand and Azriel had all stood by Elain and called Y/N unreasonable at first.

Unreasonable.

And now she was dying.

Falling to his knees, Cassian buried his face in his hands, his hair falling over his face as his hair and snapped, and thunder roared above him.

And just like that, he let his tears pour free for his friend, his only sister, he let his sorrow come loose and he cried.

The general of the Night Court, cried.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Rhysand had was familiar with pain.

He had felt pain when his mother was murdered, he had felt pain when Amarantha had tried to torture him during the first war. He had felt pain in war camps and felt pain every single time Cassian punched his face for being stupid or just because of a stupid fight.

Rhysand was familiar with pain.

However, as he sat in the corner of his study, as he curled up against the wall, his head bent over, leaning against the brick, his heart ached. Ached in a way he was more than familiar with but was devastingly painful anyways.

Rhysand had always felt pain.

But as he thought of his sister, at everything she meant to him, at every single time she had called him stupid, told him he was a jerk, every time they cried together, every time they fought with each other, every time they fought for each other.

Rhysand could not stop the pain.

Not as his eyes hurt from crying so much, not even as he tried to curl further into the corner, trying to imagine her warm hug when he was first used by Amarantha. For the first time in centuries Rhysand realised how easily he could lose his sister. Even as he gagged from not easting, even as his legs went numb from sitting in the same position, even when the sky went dark, Rhysand sat there.

“Come home, little star,” He whispered into the darkness, “We can go to your favourite bookstore, I’ll let you put me in a dress again, I’ll even let you put make up and jewellery on me,” He let out another choked sob.

“Just come home.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

When the decision was made, Azriel slowly went to Elain’s room in the dead of the night. Elain stirred softly before she came aware of his presence.

“I will make the bargain with you, but only with one condition,” Azriel spoke softly.

“And that is?” Elain purred.

“The bargain will only be effective if she lives. Because if she does not survive this, I think I would die anyways,” He replied softly. At least this way, his starlight would be safe. His mate would have to live.

“Fine,” Elain shrugged.

And just like that, a tattoo burned onto Azriel’s ankle, and as he glanced down, he saw the outline of a bloodied rose, thorns and all.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“What in the world,” Cassian breathed.

Azriel had done it, he had made the bargain and now knew how to save Y/N. However, as Azriel explained how it should be done to both him and Rhys, the plan seemed a little…..volatile.

“So we’re supposed to use Rhysand’s daemati powers to enter her subconsciousness, and travel into her mind where it’s probably sitting there thinking she’s asleep, manipulate her subconsciousness to make introduce her to a dreamscape, and from there materialise a dream version in her head of ourselves in order to explain to her this entire mess and convince her that Azriel still loves her?” Cassian repeated.

The long winded explanation was….long, but it did summaries what they were going to attempt. Rhysand tapped his fingers on the desk impatiently as he weighed his options, the plan did seem viable, not something that he had done before, but viable.

The only problem now was….

“Who’s going in to talk to her?” Rhys asked.

How would someone go in and convince his dying sister that her mate, who she thinks cheated on her, still loves her? Who would be the best choice in this?

Pacing from one side of the room to another, he ran his hand through his hair.

“Azriel should,” Cassian piped up, but Rhysand shook his head.

“No he could trigger her and send her in the other direction, he could make her die faster,” Rhysand said.

“Or he could show her that he still loves her, give him a chance to explain and ask for forgiveness, do you think she’ll magically believe what we say? Azriel himself will be his proof that she does not need to die.” Cassian countered.

“No I won’t,” Rhysand shook his head, “I won’t let him hurt my sister again.”

Azriel visibly flinched at that.

Growling at his high lord, Cassian stormed up to Rhysand, snarling in his face.

“Azriel might be the only chance your sister has to survive this! And you are willing to throw that away because you don’t trust him anymore?” Rhysand snapped back, “I am not putting my sister’s life in his hands, not again!”

“She’s my sister too!” Cassian screamed.

Rhysand faltered at Cassian’s words.

“You weren’t there the first time this happened, you weren’t there when I found her, bloodied in the snow, when they tried to kill her when she was 15 because she was causing too much trouble in illyrian camps,” Cassian sobbed, “You may have been her real brother but when you were trying to be High Lord, she was trying to survive without a family! I was her family!” Cassian begun pacing himself now.

“You weren’t there when she got her first crush, when I taught her how to throw a real punch, when I taught her how to fly when she was 10 because her father deemed her unworthy to learn and her mother could not teach her!” Cassian looked Rhysand dead in the eyes.

“She was my sister too, and with all my heart I believe that Azriel is her best shot.”

Hesitating, Rhysand looked between Cassian and Azriel, before nodding slowly.

“Fine.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Sitting beside her bed, Azriel grasped his mates hand for what seemed to be the last time. No. Not the last. He would not allow it to be. Regardless of the cost, Azriel would bring her home.

Hundreds of possibilities ran through his head as he gazed at her sleeping face. She looked like she was sleeping, but it was…wrong. Her head was not in an awkward position for him to adjust, she did not stir ever so slightly in his presence to greet him with a soft whimper that he was breathing too loud. She looked like she was sleeping, but in his bones he knew she was not.

Squeezing her hand one more time, he turned as the door open, allowing Rhysand, Madja and Cassian to walk in.

“Nesta will handle all the training today, Feyre promised to continue overseeing all diplomatic and court duties, we’re all set.” Rhysand explained.

Nodding his head, Azriel set his eyes on the wooden floors as he took a deep breathe, closing his eyes as he let the familiar tendrils of magic curl around his mind. He would bring you home.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

He felt as if he had been walking for hours, his soul on the brink of collapse. The heavy weight on his ever preset body, as he kept going forward into the darkness.

There was no light in this place.

Even as he fell to his knees, he crawled, only one person on his mind. But where was she? Where was he?

He could only keep crawling, moving, doing anything but stopping. And even as the ground seemed to swallow him whole, he did nothing.

Maybe he deserved this.

Maybe he needed this.

Pain screamed at him from ever direction, the darkness raging.

Yes.

He deserves this.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Waking up with a start, Azriel sat up as he looked around him, his memory hazy as he tried to recall the last thing.

Right in from of him was the Sidra, its water currents moving as he stared at the river, looking around for signs of anything else. However, the atmosphere was eerily quiet. Velrais, was empty.

Standing to his feet, he let out a shaky swear before taking a moment to stretch all his limbs. This was….Y/N’s dreamscape, her subconsciousness.

But where was she?

Wading through the streets of Velaris, he silently took note of how everything was the same, except there were no people. He could hear the sounds of a bustling city, but it was as if they were whispers of wind, taunting him of a world that was currently not real.

“Y/N?” He called out. If this was her dreamscape, surely she could hear him. That’s when an idea struck him. Grappling for the tendril in his soul, he almost shook with relief when a gold thread appeared in front of him, and he looked to where it led, his heart almost dropping.

Her favourite bakery.

Of course.

Entering the small shop, he saw his starlight in the corner of the bakery, curled up against the plush bright seats, a croissant in one hand and a book in the other.

“My love,” He whispered.

Looking up, your eyes widened as you dropped the book, your mouth agape as you took in the male before you.

“What are you doing here?” You demanded. Your heart palpitated in your chest as you stared at him. He was not supposed to be here. You were supposed to be either waiting for your impending death so your soul could travel to the next life, or wait for Madja to save you.

He just stared at you.

Stared at you, speechless, as he looked over you as if he could not believe you were in front of him.

“I won’t repeat myself!” You yelled.

“Sweetheart, I-“ He started but you flinched away when we tried to walk towards you.

Feeling his heart shattering, he just looked at you helplessly, he wanted to tell you that it was alright, that it was safe, but how could he when he has been the cause of your pains?

“I just came to explain, we found a way to enter your subconsciousness and I came, I needed to explain, I need you to understand-“ “Understand what?” You scoffed, “That my mate, cheated on me?” He shook his head stepping towards you, even as you tried to claw at him to escape, to leave, to do anything but look at him.

You struggled as he grasped your wrists, tried to kick at him, but he would let you hurt him if you just listened.

Even as you calmed, giving in to the fact that he was physically stronger that you, you spoke, “Loyalty, equality, eternal and forever,” You recalled the promises he had made you, “Who would have known the spymaster’s ‘forever’ really meant ‘until there is better’?” You wanted to laugh, laugh at yourself for how foolish you were, cry at how much it hurt to think of how he had broken our trust, scream at how you had hidden your pain to save HIM and now you were the one suffering.

“You are a joke, Azriel, a liar and a joke.”

“Please listen to me,” He breathed, “Please just let me explain.”

“Explain what!? Was she better, prettier, more compliant? Is that it? You couldn’t take the heat of someone so strong headed anymore, right? Too many opinions, too much energy, just too much right? Do you think I haven’t suffered enough? Why are you still here to torment me? Do you think I did not spend enough time agonising over how you loved her more than me!?”

“I was drugged!” He exclaimed.

Silence.

As the words sank in, as your eyes widened and you finally, finally looked him in the eyes.

“I was drugged,” He repeated, “Elain had started sneaking in aphrodisiacs into my tea when I first started accompanying her to help her adjust. I never noticed, I only realised there were blocks of time I could not recall here and there, that everything seemed hazy, but I couldn’t stop it. It was sheer luck that Cassian noticed when Elain was trying to give me the daily dose of it.”

You wanted it to be true. More than anything you wanted what he said to be true. Because that would mean he never stopped loving you, that all the times of thinking you were less than, it meant that you had been wrong.

But you could not.

You refused to give your trust away to him again, because more than anything you knew he held your heart in his hands even now. Instead of delighting in that fact like you used to when you were happy, now you were terrified.

Your life hung in the balance.

And you had to choose yourself.

“Go back, Azriel,” You sighed, “Tell Madja to just kill me, because I am…so tired,” You breathed.

“No, no, no!” Denying your request, he knelt before you, hands on your waist as he buried his face into your abdomen, as his eyes flooded with tears and he shook.

“Please,” He begged, “Please, come home, let me fix this. Please, let me love you, let me show you that there was never a doubt in my own sane mind that I love you. Please.”

The spymaster, on his knees before you. Begging.

“I can’t, Az, can’t you see?” You lifted his chin to look at you, your own tears beginning to well up and trickle down your face, “I’m dying, I’m dying and if you don’t leave this place then you’ll die to. We both know there isn’t enough time.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Azriel murmured, “I’ll go with you and I will follow you, all the way till the end. I told you I will love you, until we are nothing but the stars travelling across the sky of Velaris, I will follow you, and I will love you.” He pulled you down, embracing you, “So don’t make me go, Starlight.”

As you breathed, in and out, in and out, as you let out a choked sob as you finally, finally let yourself embrace your mate, you let out a soft, mumbled, “Okay.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: I know it’s not done but I have one LAST part after this I just wanted to really really really not rush this I tried fitting it all into one last part but sadly I could not next part will be happy I promise.

The people who are crossed out are the ones I could not tag please please please tell me in the replies if you want to be tagged, series taglist will NOT be repeated across parts.

Azriel’s taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl

Series taglist: @its-sam-allgood @skylarkalchemist @doodlebugwatkins @buttermilktea11 @lilah-asteria @loverofclones @evergreenlark @tele86 @kingdomofstarrynights @peachyxlynch @annamariereads16 @unlikely-lovers-together @div94 @saltedcoffeescotch @ccacotartoglover @crazylokonugget @tanyaherondale @gabbiskylar01 @mariahoedt @that-one-little-soybean @cat-or-kitten @hauntedstudentobservationus @thefandomplace @minaaminaa8 @amysangel @mich0731 @petersunderoos96 @sidthedollface2 @wallacewillow0773638 @annaaaaa88 @azzydaddy @the-sweet-psycho @alaia-aya @laurzwrites @michellexgriffey @st4r-girl-official @krowiathemythologynerd @anuttellaa @i-am-infinite @iwishiwasaprincess @sad-anxious-muffin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @circe143 @deeshag @acourtofbatboydreams @randombibitch @romantasyreader28 @jojo2343-blog1 @lady-targaryens-world @nayaniasworld @chicaconfundidaycuriosa @mochibabycakes @bookisposts @moonlwghts @rcarbo1 @sunnyspycat @tee-hee135 @winnerwinnerchickendinner22

[mitfloya]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

pairings. Rafayel x gn!reader

wc. 6.8K

synopsis. He believes that by isolating you, he can protect you from the outside world and ensure your happiness together. In his twisted mind, this is his way of creating a perfect and eternal bond, you’re his muse, his statue of beauty, his own aphrodite.

warnings. The following content contains elements of obsessive behavior, yandere thoughts, stalking, possessive behavior, and may include poorly written narratives. Reader is referred to as 'you'. Proceed with caution, as this writing may be unsettling or uncomfortable for some individuals.

a/n. Hiyaaa! Thank you so much for the people that have helped me make my post manage to slip through the timeline! I kid you not I had to break my spine with this issues I kept running into (the ori yandere Zayne post is gone, I’m sorry for the inconvenience), if any of you have any suggestions on how to make my post made it into the tags please tell them on the comments section. Get ready and have some snacks and hope you enjoy reading another hc I made

♡ Please reblog and comment on this post are much, much appreciated ♡

A manchild…? you love this guy? Me being a slander and simp at the same time

To put it simply, Rafayel is always the damsel in distress and YOU are his knight shining armor. He needs your attention and protection 24/7, you don’t want him to end up dead, do you? The whole universe will miss him. 

First of all, he loves you. Second of all, he hates you. 

You’re like a goldfish, how could you not remember the vows you both made when you were just a little kid?! The mere fact that you failed to recognize his face shattered his heart into pieces, for you hold immense significance in his life.

The weight of your indifference crashed upon him like a tidal wave, leaving his emotions in ruins. It was like a tornado tearing through his soul, causing a gut-wrenching ache that seemed to consume him from within.

It creates a twisted cycle of emotions that he struggles to contain. He yearns for the love you once shared, yet despises you for not remembering the bond you had. 

Perhaps he regrets not taking action in the past to ensure he could always locate you, to have left a distinctive mark upon you as a means of tracking your whereabouts.

You should’ve recognized him at first glance. Where have you been? He thought he lost you, he doesn’t even want to wish upon your death but you make it harder for him not to.

You’ve grown so much and so many changes but you’re still the same person he met at the beach, and it makes him feels so many emotions at once, it’s the first time he has managed to put a rein over his emotions, he could’ve coax you to come to his studio and locked you up, if you were to recognize him.

His heart longed to show much he misses you yet his mind tells him to seek revenge. It’s like his body and soul is splitting. Do you know how much damage you are causing him?

You must understand, my dear, that he is determined not to repeat past mistakes. It is time for him to take drastic measures, to make a promise that will bind you to him forever. He sees you as his ultimate protector, his unwavering shield. From this moment forward, you will never leave his sight again.

In his eyes, you have always belonged to each other, from the very beginning. Your destinies intertwined, your fates entangled. He craves the security of knowing that you are by his side, guarding his every step, his every breath. No longer will he allow even the smallest sliver of distance to separate you.

From the beginning you are his as much as he is yours.

His artistic talent is both his greatest strength and his greatest weapon. Through his art, he immortalizes his love and hatred for you, capturing the complexities of his emotions with every stroke of the brush. His creations serve as a constant reminder of his twisted desires. 

Initially consumed by hatred, he concealed his love, allowing it to resurface gradually, in subtle and tender ways. 

It’s the slowest burn you could ever imagine. Painstakingly slow.

As Rafayel's hatred gradually diminished, he began to express his feelings more openly, albeit subtly, leaving significant hints about the depth of his emotions towards you. Similar to a small forest fire that grows steadily, each progression was deliberate and methodical until it consumed the entire forest, an uncontrollable blaze that can’t be extuingish.

Say goodbye to freedom and welcome to his world, now that you’re his. He will be the center of your universe.

Clinginess is an inherent trait of Rafayel's nature. He craves your presence and attention, unable to bear the thought of being separated from you even for a moment. He will go to great lengths to ensure that you never leave his side.

You've grown accustomed to his playful nature and constant need for attention, but be prepared for an amplified version, as his demands intensify. Good luck dealing with your man ♡

He is a man of pride, he immortalizes you through his art, proudly showcasing pieces dedicated to you at his exhibitions. While abstract in form, this exclusivity serves to intrigue others, leaving them pondering what makes you so special in his eyes.

Unknown to you hidden away within his personal stash, there is a gallery dedicated solely to you. Every piece of artwork revolves around your existence, capturing his obsession with meticulous detail. The walls are adorned with portraits, each stroke of the brush reflecting his twisted love for you.

But at the very least, he showers you with lots of love and affection, no more holding back.

In relationships, he presents himself as a calm and romantic partner, radiating an aura of serenity akin to the sea. He enjoys spending quality time with you, whether it be casual outings or simply sharing space in silence. With him, you will never feel alone.

But do not be deceived by the calm waters, for they possess the ability to draw you into the depths of darkness, leaving you submerged and unable to resurface. His obsession remains unpredictable, much like the ever-changing tides of the sea. 

Oh, how you've stumbled into his clutches the moment you made that fateful vow. There is no turning back, my dear. You have fallen into the siren's trap, lured by his haunting charm. You are now forever entwined in his grasp, unable to break free. You should have thought twice before crossing paths with him if you weren't planning to stay.

He has two preferred methods of dealing with nuisances. He may choose to be smug and show off his superiority, rubbing his success in their faces. He revels in flaunting his success and talents, using them as a means to intimidate and belittle those who dare to steal you away.

However, if they persist, he is unafraid to resort to physical means, utilizing violence to eliminate them from your life. He goes to extreme lengths, even shedding blood and concealing the evidence of his actions, all in the name of safeguarding your well-being and maintaining his possessive hold over you.

His possessiveness knows no bounds, his desire to claim you as his own overpowering any sense of reason. He will go to great lengths to ensure that no one else can possess you, viewing you as his ultimate masterpiece.

When faced with difficulty or resistance from you, Rafayel won't hesitate to take drastic measures. He is willing to use any means necessary, including drugs, to put you to sleep and kidnap you. He will isolate you in his studio, ensuring that you will be together forever.

His studio, the place where he creates his art, becomes both a sanctuary and prison for you. Within its walls, he controls every aspect of your existence, dictating your every move and stifling your individuality. It is a place where his obsession can flourish unchecked.

You will forever remain under his possession, as he claims you and binds you eternally.

© 2024 mitfloya — all rights reserved. kindly refrain from altering, translating, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[yestrday]

Imagine a yandere! rival so fucking obsessed with you.

They claim to hate your guts, that you should fuck off and die. Every moment that you're in the same room as them they sneer at you and hurl ridicule and insults your way. And when you're out of the scene... well, they're relatively normal until someone mentions your name and a trigger seems to flip. They rant on and on and on about your stupid face and annoying voice and whatever whatever...

And then you have the audacity to smirk at him and say, "What? Obsessed with me, are you?"

It makes their blood fucking boil!

You're— ha! Them? Obsessed??? Fuck no! They'd sooner shoot their own foot than even think of you! See, this is why you're so fuckin insufferable! You think the whole world revolves around you and only you. Do you think you've even qualified a place in their thoughts?! Crazy bitch. You don't even respond to them, just leaning back and enjoying the numerous slanders shooting off their mouth at top speed. You make them crazy, with the way you just look at them like they're a speck of nothing. They're not nothing, god dammit!

Then they see you, hanging off the arm of a man. Didn't you hate their guts? (How does he know that of course he knows thatwhywouldn'the it's obvioussss you're not a great fuckin actor like you think you are) It's a grand party, everyone's in dresses with high slits and decked out in suits and ties like it's the Great Gatsby. You pass him by with your latest amour, and the only glance you give him is with a haughty smirk.

The champagne flute they're holding is shattered in their clenched hand. The nearby people gasp and scurry away when they see the blank look in their eyes.

So that's how you're gonna fuckin play, huh?

"You. Are. A. Bitch," they hiss, cornering you in the grand suite just 20 floors from the party. Their outfit is splattered in blood, their eyes are swirling from hate and sin and greed, and their lips are curled in an ugly snarl. "You think you can just waltz into the party and give any idiot your time of day?"

You yawn— the nerve of you!— and cross your legs on the plush velvet couch. It's the same as your past encounters, you are casual while your rival has steam out of his ears. "Since when did you care about the people I affiliate myself with? Thought I... didn't deserve a place in your thoughts."

"You don't." They slam their hands on either side of you and lean in till they're glaring directly into your eyes. "You don't deserve shit." You hum, raising a finger to their cheek and swiping away a speck of blood.

"Really now?" You smile at them coquettishly and press down on their lips with a bloody finger. "So why're you obsessed with me then, darling?"

They bite down on your finger. Hard. Drawing out blood till it mixes with that bastard's.

"Fuck if I know, bitch."

[alexandraisyes]

Harassment Slander and Stalking

Biased-tsams-confessions has endorsed lies, manipulation, slander, defamation of character, aphobia against two sex-repulsed individuals, ableism towards two other individuals with ASPD, transphobia, and has now actively allowed someone's life to be put in danger. And they're only willing to apologize for the last one, and that's all Z gets. Is an apology. All of the other harassment posts are still up, despite the appeals to have them removed, they don't care about the harm they are causing to innocent people as long as they can sweep the worst of it under the rug.

We have tried confronting them. We have tried compromising. We have tried civil discussion, and we have tried ignoring them when all else failed. And once we started ignoring them they started targetting other members of our community such as @polaris-stuff, @pixelchills, and finally @zthesheep. They are not going to stop, every new victim that's added to the pile is another stain on their reputation. They are soaked in the blood of lambs, and yet they still continue to lie, and slander, and harass people.

Please, regardless of if it fits your blog's theme or not, read what the victims have to say, hear their stories, and if you can, share it. This has gone on for over a month, fueled by shattered-sparks and biased-tsams-confessions. They claim it is over a fandom ship, but evidence has proven that they are just looking for reasons to hurt others.

They are one step away from being the exact thing they claim to be protecting others from. If they even inch backwards, they're going to be just like the people sending kids gore.

[fantasyinallforms]

✨I did some practice writing angry consort Bilbo, and it didn't turn out half bad. Slightly cracked and a tad occ for Thranduil but it felt good enough to share. 1.1k words. ✨ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bilbo lunged at Thranduil. 

"What is this!" He shouted, clutching a wrinkled piece of parchment in his hands. Things had been so calm. Years of quiet interrupted only by minor disagreements that were always resolved peacefully, but what he held in his hand at present was slander. 

Thorin caught him around the waist before he could connect, and Bilbo fought him like a caged cat, tears of frustration and hurt in his eyes. 

"I had your back! I offered you, counsel! I defended you against others who looked to sow discord between our people! Was this what you thought of me the whole time?" Bilbo had never been this angry. Not at Lily Bottoms for stealing his tart recipe, not at the page who ruined an entire nearly finished book with a dropped bottle of ink, not even at Lobelia for stealing his mother's silver spoons. 

He kicked and demanded that Thorin release him, putting weight behind his attempts, but his husband never let go, only tucking his nose into his hair with a whisper of apology. 

"Was it because our friendship started with dishonesty? Something I needlessly apologized for and made right time and time again? LOOK AT ME, DAMNIT!" Bilbo screamed, and finally, the elven king looked at him with a hint of shame in his eyes. 

"I had not thought through my actions or my words," Thranduil replied, unusually cowed by the sight of his rage yet still his eyes were callous. 

"How very evident," Bilbo sneered. "You have always seen conspiracy where none existed. All I did was try to warn you. I tried to counsel you when I knew others wouldn't. You surround yourself with those who revere you and will not hold a mirror to your actions. Anyone who doesn't see you in that light, you outcast." 

"I never asked for your opinions. I simply sought to share the stresses of leading my people without unsolicited advice." Thranduil shot back 

"You never had to ask! Has the definition of friendship strayed in the last 8000 years? I saw your mind swaying dangerously. It was my duty to say something. You are a leader. There is always more than just yourself at stake. If that burden of responsibility has grown too much, then hand the crown to Legolas and be done with it!" 

"You say that there is no conspiracy, yet there you hold the evidence that there are plenty I can not trust." Thranduil spat.

Bilbo balled up the parchment still in his hand and threw it at Thranduil's feet. He was no longer fighting to get his hands on the elf king's person, but Thorin still stood by his side like a ridged statue, his hand on his arm in comfort. He knew Thorin only held him back for his own sake. He wouldn't let him react out of anger, knowing he would regret his action later as much as he might want to let Bilbo blacken an elven eye. 

"I hold this in my hand because I earned the loyalty of the people closest to me. You should have known Bard was honorable, that his conscience would not have let your words go unchallenged. That you would take my kindness and twist it into animosity tells me more than I cared to know. More than that, in the months since I sent you my letter of warning, you acted as though nothing was amiss, sending correspondence and even asking for my opinion as you always have. By spreading these lies, you would seek to shatter the very peace you helped build!" 

"What am I getting out of any of this other than responsibility? I watch from The Greenwood as Dale and Erebor grow in power. None of that prosperity comes my way. You, and those like you seek to take from me all I have built and make me an outcast in lands I have inhabited far longer. I know it in my heart." 

Many times over the years, he worried about Thranduil. Time and stress burdened people in different ways; it mattered not the race they came from. Thorin, Thranduil, and even Lord Elrond had faced hard lives and the same water that softened potatoes hardened eggs. It didn't make the bitter sting of betrayal taste any better. Thranduil should know better, and Bilbo wondered if he was saying that because, to some extent, he always put elves on a pedestal, and to see one act as such was a hard truth that could not be veiled once revealed. Age and intelligence were no measure of wisdom. How do you change someone's mind when they refuse to see past their own version of the truth? 

"You betrayed my trust. You spoke ill of me behind my back and tried to get my friends to think less of me. You would attempt to alienate me from a community that you know sustains me to sate your own vanity. For what? The crime of caring about you, caring about your future! I can tolerate hate and vitriol said to my face, but I can't abide words said behind my back. Trust, once broken, is hard to get back." Bilbo held in the chest-wrenching sobs that lingered underneath his anger. It was a hurt that would sit in his chest for some time after Thranduil returned to his home.

"Then what of this community you claim exists between the elves, men, and dwarves? Even if I made amends, is this to be the end of our friendship?" Thranduil's face was unreadable, and Bilbo wanted to slap him. The bastard couldn't even apologize, not that he had expected one. 

I will not disparage you to others or vilify you further than whatever damage your pettiness has done by itself. I have only ever wanted to build a time of peace where we can trade and practice our crafts. I will not let you steal that vision from me. Dissent would only lead to war, and I have no interest in tearing the lives of my people apart. As far as our friendship, that is to be determined by you and what actions will take from here. Any words you could share beyond that mean little.” 

Everyone in the room seemed to understand that the end of his sentence marked the end of the conversation. Bilbo turned and sank into Thorin's waiting arms, letting his husband do the work of keeping him upright. 

"And Thranduil," Bilbo called, still not looking at him. "Take the soured gift you brought with you. I'm beginning to find your generosity inconsistent." ~~~

(At several points Tumblr auto-correct tried to change Thranduil's name to tranquil and taquito. I find this hilarious)

[thedemonofcat]

When Jaskier's angry or upset, it's always "Don't touch me!" "Get away!" "Hands off!" And then the bard will be gone for hours or days until he calms down.

Now, Geralt understands this kind of reaction. He himself doesn't want to talk to/be around others when he's angry. Much less let anyone touch him. The thing is...Jaskier acting that way never fails to make Geralt feel like shit. Jaskier is usually so affectionate that the sudden cut off is jarring. The first few times it happened, Geralt had been sure that Jaskier was fed up with him and leaving for good.

However, Jaskier always returned. They would make amends, and the bard would resume his touchy, affectionate ways.

One day though, they had their worst argument to date. And although he had always come back before, Geralt was certain that this was the time Jaskier would leave forever. If Jaskier walked out that door, Geralt was sure he would never see him again.

So, unthinkingly, Geralt caught the bard's wrist.

Jaskier's eyes widened, anger replaced with pure panic. "Geralt! Let me go! Let me go right now!"

Geralt loosened his grip reflexively in response to Jaskier's panic. Did the bard think the witcher would force him to stay? He opened his mouth to try to explain.

Only, the world was...spinning. And Geralt's tongue was heavy. And everything was warm. Oh, he felt so very sick.

Then, the world went black.

An unknown amount of time later, Geralt woke. He felt kind of hungover but was otherwise fine. To his relief, Jaskier was sitting at his bedside.

When the bard notices Geralt is awake, he inquires after his health. At Geralt's reassurance that he was fine, Jaskier launched into a tirade about the number of times he had told Geralt "NOT TO TOUCH HIM WHEN HE IS MAD! AND THAT INCLUDES RIGHT NOW, YOU SCARED ME HALF TO DEATH, YOU BASTARD!!!"

Geralt is a bit confused about how Jaskier being mad and his fainting spell were connected.

Two things are revealed that day:

Jaskier is part fae

Some fae become toxic to touch when they are extremely upset or angry or scared. It is a magical trait, so it wears off when Jaskier calms down; nevertheless, it is dangerous.

This puts some things into perspective. Like how Jaskier, who seems to feel entitled to his emotion/reactions no matter how inappropriate they may be, is very skilled at controlling his temper. Or how when he does lose it he chooses verbal slander over physical violence. Or how when there IS a physical fight Jaskier wraps his hands in cloth and tries uses blunt instruments.

Bonus: Geralt tells all of the witchers not to touch Jaskier when he's mad, and Lambert takes that as a challenge.

When a fae is startled enough by touch, it can shatter their Glamour.

That’s exactly what happened when Lambert was goading Jaskier, determined to rile him up, resorting to poking the Bard. But when Lambert finally made a remark about Jaskier’s feelings for Geralt, something inside Jaskier snapped the moment he felt the poke.

A surge of magic erupted, sending Lambert hurtling backward. He crashed against the wall, clearly injured. Everyone turned to stare at Jaskier, who now stood transformed—his fae nature fully revealed. Pointed ears, delicate horns sprouting from his head, and his bright blue eyes glowing even more intensely than before. To top it all off, Jaskier hovered a few feet above the ground, wings unfurled.

Geralt had never seen his Bard look so otherworldly, so undeniably fae. It was both mesmerizing and terrifying. He knew Jaskier hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, but Lambert had pushed him too far.

As the anger faded and Jaskier glanced around, he was met with wide-eyed fear. They looked at him like he was a monster. Overwhelmed, Jaskier shrank himself down with a flicker of magic and flew away, disappearing into the air.

[kitkats-and-kittens]

One of my favourite things to think about is the rest of the batfam all having their own ‘Brucie Wayne’ personas. So here’s me listing how I imagine the main family members would front to the public.

Dick

I think would be very similar to Bruce with the same air-headed personality. As far as the internets concerned he can’t spell orange and pretends not to know any of the 50 states let alone which one he lives in. He also uses the fact that he never officially finished college to his advantage. As a kid he was more eccentric and people just knew him as that little kid whose constantly high of sugar and lollipops. Not much changes when becomes an adult.

Of course like father like son and he is also extremely charismatic. His persona is a little more goofy than Bruce’s and he’s known as the Wayne’s resident gymnast, at least in the air. He’s made a habit of acting as though any and all fine motor skills come to an absolute stop the moment he isn’t doing some complex flip, or cartwheel. There are serval videos on YouTube of him tripping over air, spilling drinks over his shirt, and stumbling into several guests, only half of these were faked. He also has a reputation of being an absolutely insane drunk. He went viral on twitter for doing a triple backflip in the middle of a gala which resulted in a shattered punch bowl, several traumatised guests and a fake news report claiming he’d died which sent the city into a riot for the next 24 hours all because he was a little bit tipsy.

Jason

Jason was pretty young when he ‘died’. Before hand he was the happy go lucky kid. With stars in his eyes and more energy than a Chihuahua hiked up on red bull and pure, liquified blue raspberry. Of course you had the occasional leech who saw in some news report that he used to be a street kid which resulted in several rumours about his ‘horrid violent nature’ but all it took was actually meeting him for most to completely disregard this.

After his death he doesn’t hang around the rest of the family much. Especially not in public and out of masks. However there is the occasional day (once every millennia or so) where he’ll stroll up to whatever part or gala or social event the Wayne’s are hosting that day, with his foolproof, impenetrable disguise Tayson Jodd absolutely no relation to Brucies dead kid, nor the elusive red hood who has a hate account dedicated to his very existence.

His whole thing tends to be a regular upstanding member of society. He acts completely normal. This wasn’t always the case. He used to change it every time he went to the parties, either acting as some depressed, lonely rich guy or an alcoholic and on one particularly memorable occasion a closeted drag Queen. However one time he showed up without a persona pre made and ready to go and just decided to wing it.

However Tim Drakes insane paranoia meant he stayed up a good 3 weeks after that night just to make sure Jason wasn’t trying anything and when Red hood found out he found it absolutely hilarious and resolved to be as respectable as possible while also generating maximum suspicion for all other members of his family.

Stephanie Brown

Although not officially adopted by the Wayne’s most people have gotten used to seeing her just roll up with the Wayne’s and it didn’t take long for social media to realise that Brucie had emotionally adopted her, if not legally. At first Steph didn’t really understand the need for a persona. She was already fine with keeping her actual personality and not turning it off for the cameras.

It took seeing Jason, who was having an absolute blast with his public persona to open her mind to the range of possibilities and she spent a full 3 months crafting a personality from scratch (putting that psychology degree to good use).

She cycled through a couple. Rich party girl, serious career woman, ditzy idiot. But eventually she landed on scheming socialite. She saw some tabloids slandering her for being Tim’s ex and although the rest of the family was not happy she took it and ran with it. Landing herself in the circles of the most gossip loving, shit talking, hot woman she could find.

She makes sure she exudes villainy at all times and has been seen eyeing Timothy Drake from across the room, stroking a cat (though no one knew where she got it from) and sipping a martini. Although she doesn’t particularly like how cruel some of her companions are she finds no greater joy than passively aggressively remarking about how Donna is wearing the same heels she was 3 years ago and oh my is she running low on funds? She was born to instigate and takes every opportunity to do so.

Tim Drake

If Tim is known for anything then it’s his ability to appear as though everything has gone to his exact calculations on the outside while internally screaming and just completely winging whatever half brained plan comes to mind. But one forgets, he isn’t just a Wayne but a Drake. Son of Janet Drake at that.

As a kid he was very much a mamas boy and would replicate her cold calculating air to the best abilities of a 10 year old boy. As he grew up however he realised that he much preferred letting people underestimate him. So in the end he settled on the stoner.

It was pretty unexpected for most of his family. Bar Dick who embraced it with all the reverence of a chaotic older sibling. Of course Tim Drake being as meticulous as he is meant when he made this persona built it from the ground up. He gave himself a favourite drug, a fake dealer, and he methodically updates his account balance every week, taking out just enough that it looks like he’s been buying.

Not only does this have the added benefit of explaining the random times he’s passed out in the middle of a party or those random compilations of him on YouTube simply staring into the abyss for hours on end, but it also means he had to try way less than his siblings when it comes to presentation. If Dick or Bruce show up with even so much as a slightly ruffled collar the tabloids will go on for weeks about the mystery guy or girl they definitely slept with. But when Tim does it, they just laugh. He gets a pat on the head and a glass of water shoved into his hands and no one thinks anything more.

And if he can also use it as an excuse for a few extra minuets of sleep then whose going to stop him?

Cassandra Cain

Cass didn’t need to do much of anything. When she first arrived in Gotham she was small, quite and not very well versed in social customs so it was practically written in the stars that she’d become an instant fan favourite. However unlike most of her siblings most of her fans aren’t focused on her what she’s been doing, or with who, but rather on trying to spot her.

She’s some aloof, mysterious figure to them and she’s also become a bit of a where’s Waldo meme. News reporters will post overview shots of the huge hall the guest are occupying, the grounds of the manor, the well kept lawns, the roofs, and the internet will go crazy trying to find her. At first it was difficult but only because she kept to herself, you’d find her in a corner of the room, or hiding behind one of the taller guests but ever since she realised what was going on she’s been making a conscious effort to make it as difficult as possible.

Some of her hiding spots include: under the table, the roof, inside the fountain, disguised as Dick Grayson, a statue, on the chandelier, and somehow as one of the reporters, camera and all. It’s become a bit of a game to see who can find her first and she remains Gothams favourite Wayne.

Duke Thomas

Duke isn’t really sure what to make of this whole public persona thing. He finds hiding such a big part of himself a little strange, and doesn’t much enjoy the idea of putting on a mask for others. So he does what he does best and puts the rest of the Wayne’s to shame with his sound logic.

He’s just himself. And somehow manages to cause the biggest impact. The people aren’t used to rich people not being overly eccentric. This is Gotham after all! And Duke Thomas’ actual personality is not exactly something they were expecting.

This is the same man who raised an army of teenage armies in the absence of his hero. To call him impulsive would be an understatement. Also he very much enjoys ‘eating the rich’ so to speak. He used his powers to convince one particularly nasty man that he needed full psychiatric care by randomly disappearing whenever he was in their line of sight.

He hangs out with Dick a lot, but only so when the worst of the Gotham socialites approach he can make them feel as uncomfortable as possible by questioning their thoughts and feelings on the working class, living conditions and all the other stuff they usually couldn’t care less about which leaves them scrambling for an answer that won’t completely ruin their reputations. Although he’s been branded ‘the responsible one’ that’s only because he presents himself as such to reporters. Most of the people attending the galas live in fear of him ever approaching them.

Damian Wyane

Being the youngest meant that people already had expectations by the time Damian showed up. Although most had no idea where the kid came from that didn’t stop them from making assumptions, and the rumours circulating from before he was officially introduced range from a mini Bruce Wayne to raging alcoholic. And yes, these were published when reporters knew damn well he was 10 years old maximum.

When the public do finally see him for the first time it doesn’t take them long to craft a persona for him. Damian of course sees this whole thing as beneath him, he doesn’t understand why he would need to hide himself, he didn’t train with the league for years to just not show of his skills. Dick tries to get him to think of it like training, as though he were on an undercover mission. This works a little too well and now he takes it so incredibly seriously it’s hard for the others not to laugh.

He arrived, squeezed in between Brucie Wayne who was blowing kisses to the camera, Dick Grayson doing a handstand, Tim Drake who looked absolutely blitzed and Stephanie Brown who was manically rubbing her hands together. Cass nowhere to be found and Duke giving his classic sunny smile to the camera.

So of course people realise this kid must be the adult. There’s jokes about how Damian must be the one doing the Wayne’s taxes, about how he probably drives Bruce to work, and other such things. Which is only further cemented by the kid himself. But he also doesn’t talk much (Dick said if he had nothing nice to say he shouldn’t say anything), and a few (illegally taken) photos show him drawing, as well as his small army of pets and so people are torn between this kid who is clearly far too mature for his age and this cute baby of a child who likes fluffy animals and crayons.

Damian is disgusted by both sides, but there isn’t much he can do about it and resolves instead to fuck with everyone by leaning into it and alternating on a seemingly random basis between clueless child and grown adult in a 10 year olds body. It mostly ends up terrifying the rest of his family because occasionally Damian (who several of them watched kill a man) will come up smiling and demand to be placed on their shoulders, and other times the same kid (who found a cow a decided immediately he was a vegetarian) will be found sipping straight vodka and going on about the good old days with people 8x his age as though he were some drunken world war 2 veteran.

[merlinsleftit]

coming to adam's rescue(shatter me spoiler alert)

i know i know before y'all say "adam is that..adam is this.. adam is shit" yes he's very much shit and I don't like him either but i don't think he deserves as much hate as he gets from the fandom..imagine risking your life for a girl u barely know and helping her escape a high security place, loving her, basically providing her friends and shelter and then she breaks up with you and moves on quickly from you(not juliette's fault either since it was always aaron from the beginning) and then watch her being in the love with the guy who tortured you and who's also YOUR half brother, how would YOU feel in his place? when the whole omega point needed a place to stay, he offered up his home for them even tho he knew he was risking himself and his brother, james. he literally SACRIFICED himself for james so that he'd be safe..yes he was insecure but he had loads of reasons why, yall can forgive aaron warner for his mistakes but y'all can't forgive adam for his insecurities? i smell some double standards here..i agree he wasn't a great bf but you cannot deny he was a great brother, the best brother infact. he definitely had problems but thats what makes his character realistic to readers and don't think of this as some aaron warner slander post, aaron warner is one of my fav characters of the series.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Reader: A lick of Flame

Summary: reader is from Autumn, gifted with flame. You get into an argument and have to blow off steam, only to witness the shadows crack.

Warnings: Azzie having a ptsd moment, angst, throwing up

A/N: kind of curious about this dynamic? So this is basically a small test run to see how it works? What I can do with it?

“What did you say?”

“You’re deaf as well as blind?”

You snarl at the male, prowling closer, flame licking up your spine, begging to be unleashed upon him. “My High Lord has protected his people well, has already brought his court further that any of us had even hoped. Do not stand before me and think you can slander him.”

“Eris is a manipulative monster who delights in the suffering of others,” Azriel growls back, memories of find Mor, bloodied and pallid, discarded uselessly.

“And as the Spymaster of the Night Court, with your torturous ways, you believe you are entitled to pass judgement upon him?” You snarl, sparks skittering across your skin a heat burns across your chest. “I take no pleasure in my methods,” he growls, wings flaring slowly in threat, “while your High Lord would sit back and allow a female to bleed out upon his boarders as if she’s a plague to his land.”

The flame catches, licking up your arms as it explodes from your body, coating you in fiery armour. Searing rage erupts at his outlandish assumptions about the High Lord who has shown great care for his new kingdom, who has enabled your rising from the ashes and so many other alike. “You know nothing about my High Lord.”

The shadowsinger flinches as incandescent flame lights the room, burning at the air. He feels the searing sting as it lances up his arms from his hands, the memories pouring out, dousing him in oil as the childhood fire burns. The laughter surrounds him, the figures of his long since tortured half-sibling looming over him as they enjoy the heat that scarred his hands, searing until bone shone through.

“Do not insult my High Lord when he could reduce you to cinders.”

You watch, pleased, as he stumbles back into the furniture, eyes wide, lips parted, his hands recoil as if your fire will truly burn him. As if you’re a threat. You’re pleased he’s acknowledging it, for once. But then you note the agony dancing in his gaze, how his eyes are watching outward but he’s centred inside. You note the tremors to his hands, the sheen of sweat to his skin as it takes on a more sallow complexion.

The flame douses itself, flickering to an ember before it vanishes. You walk closer to him, concern rising within you. Your eyes settle on his trembling hands, observing the twisted flesh, how it melts into him. Burn scars, you realise. Fuck. You hadn’t meant to—

Shit.

“Azriel,” you breathe, moving closer. His wings are shuddering, attempting to tuck into themselves. As if to make himself disappear. His shadows are spasming around his powerful form as you shift forward, close enough to touch him. “Azriel,” you murmur, tone harsher as you try to bring him out of whatever nightmare he’s sunk into.

The second your hand settles on his shoulder, his conscious slams back into him, muscles screaming at him to defend against a past threat. He’s stronger now. He can fight back. And he does.

The Shadowsinger surges upright, catching you off guard, his shadows snatching your legs out from under you as his hands shove at your shoulders. You end up being slammed into the floor, the breath being knocked from your lungs at the sheer force of impact, skull cracking against the ground. Your mouth drops open as your vision swirls, going from black to white to glowing technicolour as pain explodes behind your eyelids.

A cold blade of steel slices against your throat as he pins you to the ground, lip curled back from his teeth, baring them. In the back of your mind, you’re aware of the upturned table, the vase shattered on the floor, flowers strewn across the paprika coloured rug.

Your eyes go wide as your hand flies to his, your free arm turning so the blade cuts into the side bone of your forearm, just below your wrist. You suck in air through your teeth at the pain, the icy burn of steel. “Azriel,” you hiss, muscles trembling as he presses the blade into your skin, drawing blood. “Azriel! I’m sorry!” Hot liquid traces a path down the side of your throat as you attempt to shrink into the ground. “I didn’t mean to—”

The words are cut from your mouth as he presses harder. Another move and he’ll slice your neck open. You’ll be dead in seconds. Left with no other choice, you summon your flame again, reforging the steel until it glows with blistering white pain. He snarls as the heat reaches his hands, recoiling from the melted steel as it burns against the soft flesh of your neck, before it’s tossed aside.

You slam your foot into his stomach, sending him flying back to the chair he’d pushed over in his attack. Frantic, gasping for air, you scramble back until you’re pressed against the wall, staring at him horrified, anticipating his next move.

Heavy breathing fills the burning air, the scent of charred flesh weaving through the room. You watch, shocked, as the male twists to the side, enough time to hide before you hear the sound of retching, upturning the contents of his stomach before his shadows spin to the windows, allowing cold air to crash into the heated room.

You swallow, your own hands trembling as you watch through terror-dilated pupils. His wings are trembling, violent shudders passing through him, and in the back of your mind you know he’s not okay. His breathing is a frenetic panic, sharp and quick inhales dizzying his mind as sweat beads on his forehead.

“Azriel…?” You whisper, lips shaking from adrenaline as it pounds through your body. He doesn’t reply, keeping his head turned away but the rise and fall of his wings is a dead giveaway. Before you know what you’re doing, your onto your hands and knees, hurriedly stumbling across the floor until you reach him.

Something screams at you not to touch him after last time, but you push it down, hands setting softly but firmly on his broad shoulders, turning him so his wings press into the upturned chair. You’re kneeling between his legs, hands moving to cup his jaw as you tilt his face to you. A sharp breath of air sucks between your teeth as your eyes lock with his. They’re wet, widened with terror.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, thumb brushing saliva from his lower lip, “you’re okay.” His hands manage to drag themselves to settle on his empty stomach, muscles spasming. His scent is drenched in fear, awash with terror as you continue to swipe your thumb in soothing gestures beneath his mouth. “I’m sorry,” you breathe, staring into his wide eyes, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—” you breath catches as your eyes drop to his hands, heart twisting as he makes to pull them behind his back.

Without thinking, your hands drop to his, fingers linking with his own scarred set. He tenses, making to pull away but you hold firm. Part of you aches as he makes a strained sound in his throat. It sounds like a whimper. Your heart catches. You don’t even know if you’re doing the right thing, holding his hands. What if you’re simply inflicting more damage, adding to the scars?

“Do you want me to let go?” You whisper, eyes latching onto his, the rise and fall of his chest evening out. The male just stares up at you, shock tearing apart in his gaze. “Azriel?” You repeat, leaning slightly closer, “do you want me to stop?” His eyelids flicker as he takes in your words.

“Stop.” It’s hardly a breath, but you hear it. Your fingers unlink with his and he sucks in air between his teeth. “No…” He sounds pained, anguish coating his tongue, eyes skittishly dancing around the room until they land on you again. Concern for your own well-fare rises again. He’s not in his right mind at the moment. He nearly killed you.

Slowly, you shift onto your legs, attempting to put some distance between you as his wings tremor. Something silver catches your eye as it falls, landing in his lap. You meet his gaze. “Stop it.” They’re so small, words uttered so softly they could have been mistaken for reverent. He lifts his hands to his face, shielding himself from your wide-eyed gaze.

It’s unmistakeable. Tears slip between his fingers, tracing salty paths over his burnt flesh. “Azriel…” You don’t know what to do. You can’t do anything here, but leaving him feels wrong. Not when he’s so vulnerable. “Azriel?” You murmur, leaning into him again, “tell me what to do.” But he’s too in his head to hear.

You wince, taking in a deep breath before reaching forward. His eyes flick up to your hands, noting their approach. Before you know it, his shadows have flared at his back, like a might wave about to crush you, but then his arms sweep in, pulling you against him as his head buries into the crook of your neck.

He’s gripping you tightly - desperately - and it’s kind of hurting your neck. You can’t swallow. Hesitantly, you lift your arms to wrap beneath his shoulders, careful to mind his wings. Slowly, you shift into his lap, enabling you bring your hands to curl over the nape of his neck. Your fingers thread through his hair, softly scratching over his skin as wet droplets land on your shoulder. He’s still trembling beneath your hands, but it’ll less pronounced. His powerful arms wrap snuggly around your waist, pulling your front flush against his chest as he cries into your collar bone.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, softly, fingers sweeping through his silky hair with ease, “you’re going to be okay.”

[valyrfia]

confession time: when i first got tumblr, you were one of the first blogs I followed and i was lowkey obsessed ( i would literally look your blog up everytime i opened tumblr and i never do that). but then i saw your posts slandering lando and i didnt know how to feel about it so i unfollowed you (this in itself was a misake bc i agreed to evrythng you said minus the stuff about lando and that in itself should've made me think about the whys, etc.) fast forward to how the last couple of months have been going, BESTIE I GET YOU SM I AGREE WITH YOU WHOLEHEARTEEDLY PLEASEDONT EVER STOP PREACHING QUEEN WE LOVE YOU!!! (and ofc yes im following you once again<3) MWAHHH<<33

Hi! Welcome back thank you for coming back here again!

I’m aware my anti Lando sentiment was Not Popular when I first started harping on about it around Miami/Imola, and in some ways yes I feel a little vindicated to be proven right but generally I’m just relieved that everyone is starting to see through the massive propaganda campaign around him.

Not only does Lando have a British pass from the media, but I think McLaren PR are excellent at appealing to the parasocial relationship in us when it comes to Lando (that Lando then doubles down on in Quadrant) and Lando in RPF contexts remains a great and likeable character, so all this leads to a feeling of sympathy for the driver himself. However, I think Lando has done the utmost to shatter most of that goodwill this weekend, the only people I really see defending him after the Max debacle are those who are: a. British or associated or b. into F1 for the fan culture. Which, there’s nothing wrong with being into F1 for the fan culture, I’d definitely be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t a draw for me as well. But I think it’s important to realise that some drivers, and I’ll even include my favourite Charles in this, are trying their best to cultivate parasocial relationships for their own ends. And I just think it’s important to recognise that that’s being done and keep a clear head when incidents like these DO happen so we can see who is actually acting with grace and who is relying on a parasocial relationship to give them immunity and save them.

I’ve said it once but I’ll say it again, cultivating a parasocial relationship like this has been McLaren’s goal since 2019. They want a kpop style fanbase so that they’re absolved of all crimes. The real enemy here has always been the McLaren PR team.

[dualdeixis]

[Image description: Digital drawings of two original characters in black and white. The Ferrier wears a black, wide-brimmed hat; a shirt with puffy sleeves and an embroidered collar, cuffs, and hem; a vest with geometric patterns; a black, sleeveless overcoat with two lighter stripes near the hem; loose pants; and black sandals. They appear to have short, messy black hair, and their hat casts a shadow over their eyes.

The Sacrifice's clothes are almost entirely white and intricately embroidered. They wear a loose, long-sleeved shirt; a cropped and wide-collared vest which is buttoned together; dimije (voluminous pants which are gathered at the ankle); a cap with coins sewn into the sides; a very long veil which ends in tassels and is pinned to the cap; a necklace of coins; a belt of large metallic roundels; and black shoes. They have long, curly black hair and several moles on their face.

In the first drawing, the Ferrier stands while wringing their hands with an extremely flat expression. The Sacrifice stands behind them and carries a bag, looking off to the side with a small smile.

Next is a comic featuring the two of them, with all of the speech bubbles being cut out from Discord screenshots. There are full descriptions of all of the pages under the cut. End image description.]

first drawing based on this painting of a peasant and nun going to the market by amedeo preziosi; comic based on a convo between me and @wildcatfourteen that reads uncannily like our ocs LOL. happy birthday my friend <33

[Image description: Page one. The Ferrier has a small smirk as they point to an image which reads, "some of y'all would melt down in this situation. ONE HAS GOT TO GO: THE EYE, THE FORMLESS, THE ECSTATIC, THE SUN, THE WOUND, THE EGG." The Sacrifice replies with a carefree smile, "how can you choose ?? are they not all as g_d ordained ??" The next panel shows that the two are sitting on opposite sides of a rowboat, which is stopped at the bank of a river going through a forest. The Sacrifice says, "i mean i guess if youre talking like which motifs i personally like to use in my hymns … i dont do much with the egg so that one" The Ferrier frowns and says, "I don't know if I can forgive u for saying that. Egg… U GET RID OF EGG?" The Sacrifice: "WHICH ONE WOULD U GET RID OF??" The Ferrier: "The ecstatic"

Page two. The Sacrifice stares in astonished silence for a moment, and then says with a cartoony vein popping from their cheek, "I think ur saying that on purpose to piss me off. to get back at me for saying ehg. Why do u hold such hate in your heart" The Ferrier closes their eyes and says nonchalantly, "I'm sorry it's not out of hate." They look off to the side and mutter, "Except u started this with ur egg slander" The Sacrifice glares at them with dismay and says, "THE HATE IN YOUR HEART IS OVERTAKING YOU" The Ferrier glares back, smiling through gritted teeth, and replies, "LOOK IN THR MIRROR"

Page three. The Ferrier pinches the bridge of their nose and says, "I can't believe this is what's causing an argument" The Sacrifice puts their hands on their hips and snaps, "I WASNT EVEN SLANDERING EGGS? IM JUST SAYING PERSONALLY IF YOU FORCED ME? I HAVE NOTHING AGAINST EGGS I EAT THEM ALL THE TIME" The Ferrier: "ITS NOT ABOUT EATINF THEM EVEN THO THEY ARE DELICIOUS AND VERSATILE." They roll their eyes and add, "Sorry for wanting to shatter my shell and be birthed anew" The Sacrifice clasps their hands together with a smile, their eyes hidden by their speech bubble, and says, "see thats the thing for me there is no rebirth only resurrection . its not dying and being birthed anew its about dying and then undying . coming back from death with none of the catharsis of newness just being forced to hold on to the old and what you once were ." The Ferrier pulls their hat down over their eyes and argues, "You say that and yet that is the whole point there is never any real birth of newness but just the illusion of it and the necessity to keep that illusion bc there is no coming back anew but taking whatever dead pieces u have and reconstructing some choppy form of a fresh creature"

Page four. The two sit in silence for a moment. Then the Ferrier says matter-of-factly, "Just like how ecstatic state is fake" The Sacrifice glares at them and says, "how DARE you say ecstatic state is fake ." The background turns black as the Ferrier's eyes go wide, gazing dramatically down at the viewer. They thunder, "ITS TEMPORARY" The Sacrifice, also on a black background, holds their palms up with an ecstatic grin. One of their eyes is teary and a bright halo flashes around their head. They answer, "AS ARE ALL THINGS."

Page five. The Ferrier, looking irritated with a cartoony vein popping from their temple, says, "fine. Fine whatever." They turn away with gritted teeth. "I'm gonna go in my egg shell and not come out EVER !!!!" The Sacrifice smiles with a thumbs up and says, "ok you do that im gonna be out here achieving union with the Beloved 👍" The Ferrier turns as far away from the Sacrifice as they can and crosses their arms. "U go do that. Hmph!" The Sacrifice does the same. "HMPH -_-" A school of black fish swims through the river. A line at the bottom of the panel reads, "THEY STAYED LIKE THIS FOR THE NEXT 24 HOURS." End image description.]

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Do It Like A Girl

Word Count: 2k

Themes: duelling, Leander slander, pining (in that order)

Summary: Y/N takes part in Lucan’s Last Man Standing tournament 

Warnings: Potential spoilers for HL. All characters 18+ and in seventh year. (ambiguous house, so feel free to pick your own)

(Edit; in typical me fashion, I forgot to add the song that I listened to on repeat while writing this. I hope you enjoy!)

Y/N squeezed through the crowd with Sebastian by her side, his hand gently gripping the back of her school robes so that he wouldn’t lose her. Considering the Crossed Wands was meant to be a secret club, the tournament that Lucan had organised this time had the largest turn out she had ever seen. Dubbed ‘The Last Man Standing’ (a name which grated Y/N just the tiniest bit), anyone could jump in and take part, with the only rule being that the winner stayed on until everyone decided they had had enough. Lucan had approached Y/N and Sebastian as soon as he had the idea, extending them an invitation to come and take part. Sebastian had nodded his head enthusiastically, but Y/N simply shrugged and said she would see how she felt on the day.

They finally made their way to the front of the group (being a seventh year had its perks) and watched through the bars that separated the clock tower from its courtyard. Leander Prewett was currently duelling a fifth year and showing no mercy as he shot a barrage of spells at the boy. The Ravenclaw could barely keep his shield charm up as Leander fired any and every spell he could think of at the younger student in an attempt to break through the hastily cast protego.

“This is brutal,” Sebastian muttered from next to her. Y/N hummed in agreement, a frown forming on her face as she watched Leander scowl and cast a particularly vicious bombarda at the Ravenclaw and finally shattered through his shield. The younger boy went flying, his wand leaving his hand, and Leander grinned and let out a victorious woop as he faced the audience that had gathered. The gate started to break open and Y/N quickly ducked underneath and made her way to the fallen student, a Wiggenweld potion in her hand as she knelt by his side.

“Are you alright?” she asked him gently, watching with a careful eye as he groaned and slowly sat up. His face flushed in embarrassment from the defeat, but he still nodded slowly and took the potion from Y/N. Lucan looked over worriedly, but Y/N gave him a thumbs up and helped the younger student stand up and walk towards the exit.

“Looks like Leander wins again!” Lucan called out. “Who wants to go next and see if they can beat him?” Y/N could see Sebastian grin wickedly and start to roll his sleeves up as he stepped forward.

“An actual challenge, please,” Leander drawled. “Not someone who fights like a girl.” Y/N shot the Gryffindor a scathing glare and was slipping her robe off before she could even process the decision.

“I’ll duel you.” Sebastian stilled in his spot, his hands still trying to roll his right sleeve up. His jaw was clenched in annoyance at Leander’s words, but the look on Y/N’s face was downright seething. He didn’t pity the man. Lucan looked at Sebastian, silently asking if he wanted to claim the spot, but he shook his head and took a step back, sticking his hands into his pockets. Leander sneered at her, twirling his wand in his hand. 

“Fine. Just don’t expect me to say sorry and wipe away your tears when I beat you.”

“I would rather skin myself alive,” Y/N hissed at him. “I’m not a fifth year you can push around, Leander - let’s make this interesting. How about a wandless duel?” She held her smile back as she watched Leander’s smug attitude falter for the briefest of seconds - his wandless magic was subpar at best, despite all their professors hounding them to pick the trait up in their final year. “You can always use your wand if you feel more…comfortable?” she asked innocently. Sebastian watched from the sidelines, a large grin of pride on his face as Y/N toyed with Leander. Y/N began to roll her sleeves up the way she had seen Sebastian do, a small smirk on her face as she waited for Leander to respond. If anything, that seemed to aggravate the Gryffindor even more, and he forcefully stuck his wand in his pocket as he glared at her.

“Let’s get this over with.” Leander held his hand out of him, bracing himself to cast the first spell as the gate slid shut once more. 

“With pleasure.” Y/N’s smile was near feral as she stood there, her hands casually hanging by her side. Leander cast the first spell, a poor excuse of confringo that sputtered out before it could even reach her. Y/N laughed at the shoddy cast and tilted her head to the side slightly, looking very much like a predator who was stalking their prey. “My turn.” Sebastian was too enraptured with her demeanour to focus as she (in startling quick precision) cast levioso, accio and confringo on Leander and blasted him backwards. The man barely had the chance to sit up before she was summoning him forward again and levitated him in front of her. 

“Put me down!” Leander snapped, flailing his legs. Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh, along with the rest of the gathered crowd, as Y/N left him floating for a few more seconds before she cast a descendo that was so powerful Leander winced as his rear hit the ground.

“Anything that you can do, I can do better,” Y/N leaned down to hiss in his face, yanking at his tie so that he would meet her eye. “You wish you could do it like a girl.” Water appeared underneath Leander as Y/N silently cast aguamenti before freezing it over with a glacius charm. She stood up and took a step back before casting depulso without using her words, wand, or even a gesture. Leander went sliding back along the ice and crashed into the wall behind him. “Come on, Leander, do you really want to say you lost to a girl in heels?” she mocked, her shoes clicking against the stone floor as she walked towards him slowly. “I’d love to see you try to fight like a girl - to do anything like a girl.” She summoned him once more, and he flinched slightly as his knees dragged across the floor until he was kneeling in front of Y/N. “Yield.”

“Never!” He tried to stand, but Y/N managed to keep him down with an unknown spell, as she refused to say her incantations aloud.

“Yield.” She repeated, a ball of energy forming in the palm of her hand. Sebastian couldn’t tell which spell she was holding from this distance but he could see the occasional swirl of fire, as well as Leander’s terrified look. 

“I yield! I yield!” He scrambled to get away from her spell and quickly got to his feet and took a couple of steps away from her. Y/N closed the palm of her hand, extinguishing the spell that had been sitting there and tilted her head to the side ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that? Did you just lose to a girl?” Her eyes flashed dangerously and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Admit that you wish you could fight like a girl, Prewett. Admit I’m better than you.”

“You’re - ” Leander grimaced as the words caught on his tongue, and Sebastian could have sworn he stopped breathing as he leaned against the bars to watch as Y/N took an intimidating step in his direction. 

“I’m waiting.”

“You’re better than me!” He all but spat the words out, his face twisting in anger. 

“...and?”

“And - ” he growled in frustration before giving her the deadliest glare he could muster (not that it fazed Y/N in the slightest), “and I wish I could fight like a girl.”

“Good boy.” The smile she gave Leander thrilled Sebastian down to his very core, and he was left absolutely breathless as she turned to give him a wink. “I’m pretty sure that makes me the winner, Lucan.”

“Y-yes!” Lucan swallowed heavily and looked out to the crowd. “Our new winner, Y/N Y/L/N! Does anyone want to challenge her?” The crowd was silent as the gate slowly opened and Y/N watched in amusement as a few people took a step away from her. “Sebastian?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Sebastian kept his gaze trained on Y/N as he spoke to Lucan. “I didn’t particularly like my chances against Y/N to start with, I think witnessing her brutalise Prewett may have just cemented that.” Y/N laughed quietly at his words, the anger that had been directed at Leander leaving her body as she grinned at Sebastian’s answer. “In fact, it doesn’t look like anyone fancies their odds against her. I think we’ve found your winner, Brattleby.” Y/N looked over at Lucan, her eyebrow raised in a silent question. The younger Gryffindor looked out over the crowd again before nodding slowly.

“Well, it looks like we have! Y/N Y/L/N, everyone! The first winner of our Last Man Standing tournament!” Y/N clicked her tongue in annoyance and let out a quiet sigh.

“I think it might be time to reconsider the name of your tournament, Lucan. Lest anyone else gets the same idea as Prewett and thinks that women can’t fight.”

“O-of course!” Lucan’s face flushed and with a wave of his wand the blackboard that held the name of the tournament amended itself to read ‘Last Person Standing’. Y/N nodded in approval and made her way to Lucan to collect her winnings, only partially aware of Sebastian sliding up to her, his arm pressed against her back gently.

“You’re breathtaking.”

“I know,” she smiled coyly up at him. He laughed quietly and placed a hand on her waist, tugging her towards him.

“I’m a little terrified to get on your bad side after witnessing that.”

“As you should be.” Sebastian laughed at this and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his heart pounding in his chest. “Darling, save it for when we’re in private,” Y/N teased, swatting his chest playfully. He grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on the back, barely paying attention to Lucan as he handed Y/N her winnings. She turned her attention back to Sebastian, her arms slipping over his shoulders as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, his eyes sparkling with absolute adoration for the girl in his arms.

“Like I’ve hung all the stars in the sky and you’re dying to kiss me.”

“Maybe that’s just how I always look at you and you’ve only just noticed,” Sebastian lowered his voice considerably and slowly leaned in to press his forehead against hers. “I think I fell in love with you during that duel.”

“Oh? That’s nice.” He opened his eyes (when did he close them?) to see Y/N giving him a sly smile. “You should come back with that admission when you know and we’ll see how I respond then.” She tilted her head up slowly and watched in satisfaction as Sebastian’s eyes fluttered closed again in anticipation, as his grip on her waist tightened fractionally. She pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, a wicked grin falling on her lips as she pulled away and watched as his eyes flew open. “Shall we go to Hogsmeade? First round is on me,” she patted the pocket where she had stored her winnings and started to walk away, only stopping to pick up her discarded robe.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he watched the sway of her hips as she walked away.

“Probably,” she gave him a disarming smile over her shoulder and held her hand out to him. “Are you coming?” Sebastian didn’t even need to think twice before he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together before playing a kiss on her knuckles. Merlin, the effect she had on him. He would follow her to the ends of the world if she asked.

“Lead the way, darling.”