Not to be That Guy but like.
Am I the only one that can't stop thinking about how Tianlang-Jun says about Luo Binghe that he pretends to be cold-hearted like his mother. The hint of fondness there, the heartache in that utterance.
Like it drives me absolutely insane. Imagining her putting on a front of strength, cold and driven and unrelenting. Why does TLJ say that about her. Did she secretly look for solutions that meant reconciling with demons instead of hurting them when her sect wasn't looking? (I wonder this because I feel like his weird fondness for SQQ would lowkey track if it's connected to the woman he once loved.) Did he mean that she was tasked with basically assassinating him and she fell in love with him instead (re: failed step one)? Did he mean that she was fond and doting in her own way (e.g. conceding he was attractive, paying for his exploits and humoring him)? Did he mean that, like LBH, she thought that power would be the thing to protect her--and that it was disguising a person who was deeply and privately wounded? All four????? I don't need sleep I need a n s w e r s
Did she know about the Huanhua Palace Master's skeevy ass intentions before she met TLJ? Or did those only come to significant light after she fell in love with TLJ? Is that why she never anticipated that level of betrayal, because initially she had no intention of being with anyone romantically? And HHPM just assumed she would be under his thumb forever?? Was she furious at her own indiscretion or did she try to use the pregnancy as a bargaining chip, a way to try to stop the immortals of Cang Qiong Mountain from attacking TLJ (plus the bonus of marriage entrapment no takesies backsies this is where LBH gets it from)? Did she try to use that claim on her to dissuade HHPM from his covetous advances, framing herself as tainted so that she could finally escape? Did she dream of a life by TLJ's side, far away from Cang Qiong Mountain?
Like. Literally every single permutation of what this could mean guts me to hell. Do you ever just cry about tianxi because I--[loud bawling noises]
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland
Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU)
Additional Tags: Charles' Bag of Tricks, Canon Compliant, lots of headcanons that don't get explored because edwin is unable to see into my brain, Charles character study through the eyes of Edwin, Unreliable Narrator, in that he has a very strong character voice but his assumptions are Not always correct
Summary:
Charles no longer has a grip on his wrist. Charles is, in fact, nowhere to be seen.
Edwin spins on his heel, eyes searching as though he will be able to summon his wayward friend back into his vision by sheer force of will. All he is met with is that same peeling wallpaper, lit by golden lanterns placed at steady intervals. The hallway that he finds himself in stretches out endlessly on either side of him.
“Ah.” Edwin’s lips purse. This is certainly, to pull from Charles’ earlier assessment, less than ideal.
--
Edwin gets trapped in Charles' bag of tricks.
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camboy!azul thoughts.
(yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, implied murder, obsession, implied kidnapping/captivity, mention of disordered eating)
An adaptable, marketable boyfriend. That’s how he sells himself. If you want cute and submissive, he’ll don frills and lace and beg for release with tears in his pretty eyes. If you want cruel and degrading, he’ll crack a riding crop and talk down to you as if you’re nothing but filth. If you want soft and vanilla, he’ll smile sincerely and chant the sweetest things as he works himself towards an orgasm.
Azul wears these faces well, and he takes pride in what he does. Not only does camming earn him lots of Madol, it provides him with acting practice. When he confesses his undying love to viewers or acts like the jealous boyfriend who caught you sneaking out without his permission, he can try all sorts of masks and personalities. He’ll see what works and what doesn’t. His viewers eat it up, none the wiser to his actual reasons for camming. In reality, all of this is practice for your sake. He wants to be good in bed for you. He wants to be a good lover for you. He wants to say all the right things and have you fall into his arms like in the movies. He wants a storybook romance with you.
It’s you Azul thinks of before, during, and after each cam session. You’re the only one who’s capable of getting him so worked up, of filling his mind to the brim with risqué imagery and ideas. He imagines the fleshlight he uses as your hole and it spurs him onwards in his act. When he reduces himself to an utter mess, he throws his head back and thinks of how heavenly it would feel to have your lips wrapped around his dick, to kiss and hold you, to slot himself inside you while you grab at his shoulders and wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer, all while you tell him how much you love him, how he’s the only one you’ll ever love, how you’ll always be his.
Azul wants to be your perfect, adaptable boyfriend and, hopefully, future husband. There’s just one problem. You have a significant other and the two of you have been dating for two years now. Two years. Two long, exhausting years. He despises the anniversary posts the both of you make on Magicam. He despises the photos where the both of you are backdropped by pastels and your lover pulls you in for a brief kiss. Sometimes he finds himself disliking you—only for a short moment, mind you. He could never truly hate you. It’s your lover who’s in the way, who’s disturbing the peaceful fantasies he’s working so hard to make real.
There’s another problem. You don’t know he exists. Sure, he’s walked past you on occasion, but you’ve never actually noticed him. You’ve never talked to him. You’ve never even looked in his general direction. Is it because he’s too plain? Too clumsy? Too unattractive? He’ll change himself for you. Whatever it is you like, he’ll like it, too. He’ll forgo a healthy diet in order to suit your tastes. He’ll ignore his favorite foods and snacks if it means he can look like your ideal sweetheart. He’ll do anything, so please look at him. Please acknowledge his efforts. Please love him. Only him. Reach out for him with your gentle hands and hold him tight and promise him you’ll never leave.
Azul is a master of disguises, a social chameleon who adapts to each and every situation he finds himself in. He can enchant with his silver tongue, offering hollow praise and remarks when necessary. He’ll never be artificial around you, though. He wants to pry himself open so that you can see the very truth buried within his heart. He wants to build this relationship upon trust and love and candied confessions.
There’s a new problem, one that lies in the engagement ring you boast on Magicam. He stares at his screen after having come down from another orgasmic high, his monitor blank and the stream ended, and static buzzes in his ears. He can taste his heartbeat. It’s metallic in his mouth, wet and warm. Azul doesn’t realize he’s biting his lip until the skin breaks and a thin trail runs down his chin. You’re engaged. You’re not going to break up with your lover. You love them. You’ll never love him. And once you’re married there will be no chance of wooing you, of sharing a wonderful life with you, of showing you just how good he can be when he fucks you into the mattress in the exact way you like. You’ll never look him in the eyes and tell him you adore him through pleasured wails and moans. He’ll never get to hold your hips and guide you up and down on his cock, watching you come undone like a spool of thread. He’ll never feel your warmth or hear your voice. He’ll never have you. Never. Never. Never.
Never.
This can’t be happening. He’s practiced these scenarios in front of the camera. He’s engaged in this exact situation before, playing the role of the shunned second lead, and he’s come up with ways on how to avoid that ending. He’s written pages upon pages of plans. Of what to do when the break-up tears your heart in two. Of what he’ll say. Of how he’ll swoop in and rescue you from the encroaching darkness. Those pages might as well be ash now. It means nothing when he realizes you’ll belong to someone else.
This can’t be happening. You’re the love of his life. He loves you. He needs you. He’s done so much for you. He’ll change himself again. Is that it? Do you prefer confidence? Do you like quiet men? Do you like the types who shop in bookstores, who sit in solitude in café corners? Or do you want someone strong and sensual? Do you want him to wear another style? Is business formal too much? Do you want him to be casual? Flirty? Fun? Sexy?
Adaptable. He’s adaptable. It’s fine. He can handle this. It’s not as if he sits in the dark in his room, listening to the hum of an air conditioning unit and staring at his trembling hands as he imagines how nicely yours would fit in his. He has to do something. This can’t be happening. He’ll do something. He must. He will. Azul can’t let you slip through his fingers. He’ll die if you aren’t in his arms.
His viewers don’t notice the manic glint in his eyes. It’s thinly veiled in lust as he puts on another convincing act. Today he’s your meek tutor. Tomorrow he’ll be your overprotective best friend. He is many things, but what he isn’t is yours. He’ll never be—not with that scum in the way.
There’s a solution to his problems. When he isn’t camming, he’s planning. It takes a while—weeks, months—but eventually the scheme is flawless. He knows of the repercussions. He knows he’ll be taken away from you if he’s caught. He knows you’ll be heartbroken, but when one door closes another is bound to open and Azul will squirm inside your heart until he’s mired in you and you’ve grown to appreciate him.
He wonders what inflicts the most suffering: a blade or a rope? A bullet or a sledgehammer? Blunt force trauma or slow, painful drowning? A slit throat or a shattered rib cage? He’s certain not even the ocean would want such trash, but it’s convenient and there are many desperate creatures willing to feast on human flesh, no matter how subpar it might be. Lots of humans find their watery graves in the sea floor. No one will bother looking if you’re trapped in underwater caves or at a depth no human has dared to explore. There are times when he’s proud to be an octopus merman. This is one of those times.
Azul, who wears faces like clothing, finalizes what’s left of the final chapter of the prologue—the life before the one he’ll share with you.
- - -
There’s a certain camboy you’ve often watched. He’s alluring and extremely talented, and he hides bloodstains behind carefully applied blush and a coy smile. But you’ll never know that, not until you find yourself confined in his room, chained to his bedpost.
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Snippet from something I've been working on that might tie with my main verse. There's a lot of angband fic that have Maedhros being tortured by Mairon in er... dead dovish abusing ways but I dislike them very much and instead like to turn the tables on him.
"What about you then? We talk about me so much that I am beginning to feel flattered." Maedhros says, a hint of amusement colouring his voice.
Mairon raises one perfect amber eyebrow, his golden eyes riveted on Maedhros'.
"Let me see, what's your story? trophy Maia kept as a boy toy for Morgoþ's to enjoy whenever he looks away from the Silmarils long enough to remember you?"
The hand that shot up and curls around his neck does not surprises him but Maedhros only feels vicious satisfaction at the flicker of anger simmering in those hypnotic eyes.
"You know nothing, son of Fëanáro. "
"Ah, but I believe I do. Loving someone who would never give you his whole." His cracked lips curl into a smirk. Mairon's fingers tighten until Maedhros' air intake is compromised. Oh well. Let him die here and be done. On this small victory, at least. Yet the Maia seems to recall himself and with a snarl, shoves him back to slump again the wall of his cell.
"You must be an idiot to think antagonising me is going to bring you any sort of freedom Nelyafinwë. There is none in Angband."
"Ah," Maedhros smiles then spits blood. "This is true for you as well."
Then Mairon scoffs, as if the mere idea of his limited agency was risible but Maedhros has seen, has heard, he might have been gagged and bound but the flicker of pain on the Maia's face upon Morgoþ's dismissal has not escaped him. And oh curse him anew if Maedhros isn't going to drive that particular knife between the Maia's ribs even if he has to die because of it.
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Melle et Felle - Official Post
Heyo everyone! This was one of two fics I wrote for the AU Exchange, written for @the-midnight-post (who has excellent taste, by the way)!
While I was working on my original assignment, I noticed a request for MM Chrom/Robin! You see, that ship is a bit special to me.
Long story short, I wasn't much of a shipper at first. Sure, I was fine going along with whatever was presented to me, but I never really cared much for shipping. And then, FE Awakening and MM Chrobin crashed into my life and I was caught up in everything! It inspired me to actually look more seriously at fandom and fanworks in general. This ship was one of the first dominoes, leading to where I am today!
[As a side note, the other fic I wrote was Ktêma es Aieí, in my Winter Light Verse, based on Twilight and Life and Death. That post is here!]
Title: Melle et Felle
Fandom: Fire Emblem Awakening
Ship: Chrom/Robin, Chrom/Grima (Robin-Grima is the same person)
Rating: Explicit
Category: M/M
Word Count: 1000 words
Summary: Chrom's light is a honey-sweet venom that transcends fate.
Notes: Although no archive warnings apply, this fic is one of my more ambiguous ones. It was written for the AU Exchange, and features an unreliable narrator, possessive behavior, and a descent into madness.
You may be interested? @mrsmungus, @udaberriwrites, @magma-saarebas19, @aislinnstanaka, @lena-hills, @bees-and-sunshine @bleepbloopbotz, @sliebman10, @axolotlsupremacyowo, @0nelittlebirdtoldme, @kayedium-writes, @hylianjo
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