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#▼ INNER MONOLOGUE/MUSING.
boardcontrolled · 6 months
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sylleblosscm · 5 months
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Starter Call!
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Moots, hit the heart thing. You know the drill.
I'm having a time and a half getting through old threads, so while I'm not dropping anything, I am officially putting them on hold until I can get my muse back in order. That said, I'm missing my girl and also all of you beautiful people <3
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indigoraysoflight · 1 year
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Incorrect Caryl inner monologue - 11x20, What's been lost.
I wanted to do a lighthearted one (+ all the gifs by the illustrious @mcbride )
Now they were definitely thinking about saving the kids during these scenes. And it obviously never crossed their minds just how well they worked together and how hot it was. It definitely 100% never crossed their minds. All of us just invented the sexual tension in these scenes, right. RIGHT? 👀
~
Carol, internally: I'm close enough to feel his breath on my face. His lips look a bit chapped. Ok, he's really hot right now, and I'm kinda turned on. Maybe... I don't stop him. NO WAIT TORTURE IS WRONG. Daryl, stop that.
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Daryl, internally: I wanna punch this asshole, but I can't when she's touchin' me and lookin' at me like that. Did her eyes just flick to my lips? My heart's beating faster because of adrenaline, definitely. Don't look, that's how them impossibly blue eyes getchya.
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Daryl, internally: Did she just womanhandle me? Yeah, she pushed me away. If she thinks I'm gonna let her push me around like that... she's right. Damn straight I am. My wife Carol's such a badass.
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Carol, internally: ok, that's the first time I've touched him in a bit. That's ok, that's fine. It's just his pecs, Carol. You've felt them before. On your face when he wraps you in his arms. Damn it, Carol. Focus on the torture.
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Carol, internally: This is weird. I don't know how to be a good cop. Daryl, don't look at me like that it's distracting. I wanna stab his face. Can I stab his face?
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Daryl, internally: *sigh* She's so hot when she gets all quiet and stabby. I'm not turned on. But Carol, torture is wrong... Keep going.
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Daryl, internally: Please be safe. I'll find you. But if I die here, I want yours to be the last face I see. 'Cause I love you.
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Carol, internally: Then please don't die. Be safe and come back. Please just come back to me. Find me. I'll be waiting. Because I love you.
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Carol, internally: You're safe. You're alive. You're here. I love you. You came back to me. You found me.
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Daryl internally: You're safe. You're alive. You're here. You're beautiful. I love you. You waited for me.
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Daryl, internally: I just wanna hold her so badly. But we're not there yet, and we got company. Fuckin' Lance. DARYL, BE COOL. Just do your cool strut so she can't tell how much you wanna hold her and kiss her right now.
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Carol, internally: ok he's doing that cool strut again. My heart is beating faster because of the adrenaline, obviously. Would it be weird if I tripped and fell into his arms for a quick second or... hour? REEL IT IN CAROL, you've got an audience. Fuckin' Lance.
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+ Bonus
Daryl, internally: Hey Lance. Get fucked. A'right I needta NOT think about "gettin' fucked" when I'm near her.
Carol, internally: K Lance, party's over. My husband Daryl's home. Time to fuckin' die. Nope. Can't think about "fucking" when I'm near him.
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hcrexcellency · 7 months
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@classiqcals ( joanna & reuben )
Love was a plague. In the earlier days of her youth, Joanna would curse the stars for whatever punishment it wished to bestow on her for being so unlucky in love. Only now, they laughed back at her for giving her heart into the hands of a liar, not a bit of everything that happened between them standing in any form of truth so he could, instead, get her money... or was it that he lying to someone else...? The mental game of catch between both possibilities made her dizzy, but she trusted him. Why would he betray her unless he lied to his most beloved sister? Even if that were true, would it make up for the humiliating feeling of looking like a love sick fool who had fallen right into the trap of a trickster? Have patience was Reuben's plea to her, two words she would not forget as they were not the three she'd hoped to hear. But she tried, nonetheless, to have patience, taking but a few days to be alone with her thoughts and stop herself from jumping to any conclusions based on whatever Isolde, Blair, or Valentina might say to her. Instead, she let the woods talk to her, astride her horse as the shades of green faded together the faster she went, creating a void only she could live in. What would she even say to him? Would she resort back to the cordial, elegant princess who was polite and rigid so that he would no longer have to play this game of pretend beside her? A petty and bitter choice to make. Or would she run right into his embrace in tears as though it had never occurred? Perhaps the easiest way out, but what of her dignity then? If she were not bolting so fast upon her horse, she would have seen the upcoming sharp turn, but alas, as the horse came to such a screeching halt, the momentum gradually pulled Joanna off the horse and onto the ground with a thud. No broken bones, thankfully, but as she bathed in her chambers, her ladies maids regarded a rather large bruise on her left shoulder blade. The bruise would be easily concealed as she dressed in her nightgown and robe. Though, as she sat in front of her mirror, she pulled the gown down to get a better look at it herself, a searing pain that would surely melt away soon enough. The door to her chambers open and she remained still, her back to the door. Through the mirror she'd expected to see her sister, but instead she'd seen the look of her betrothed. Immediately wrathful gaze fell upon her ladies maids, whom apparently could not keep their mouths shut. This was not a conversation she was prepared for just yet, but perhaps the spontaneity of it may cause her to stop thinking for a while, which was what got her in trouble in the first place. "Do not fret," she said quietly, refusing to turn around, unsure if she says it to bring down the pretend persona that Dorit claimed he wore so well, or to quell the worry of the man who truly adored her, "I am fine... I simply fell off my horse. It hurts a bit, but it should mend itself in no time..."
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attroxx · 4 months
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❛ @villain-he said . . . 🤲 whoever wants to be cradled in his hand. ❜
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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐒. who the hell wrote this thing ? and why was his manager insisting he audition ? the director is high profile and has a mostly good track record but . . . koda groans, slamming the stupid script onto the table. sinking into his seat his coffee stares back at him almost mockingly. despite it being a chilly day he'd opted for cold brew as per usual. taking a few more bites of his pastry he finishes up, shoving the script into his bag before tugging it over his shoulder. the coffee shop is growing buiser by the minute and koda didn't feel like adding to it.
he's about to head out the door when someone blocks him. the blonde blinks, the grip on his bag tightening. oh brother. he looks up . . . and up some more before meeting the face of a guy he'd never seen before. at least he's sure he hasn't. koda comes here most days, he would've remembered this guy . . . he's only really attractive. then suddenly the strangers hand is gripping his face, well, maybe gripping was a strong word. koda feels himself freeze, honey hues blinking rapidly.
koda thinks he hears the guy mention that he has something on his face . . . it must be chocolate from his pastry. but all koda can feel is the stranger hand on his skin. koda knows he's burning up and the guy can probably see it too. if the dude wasn't so tall he might be able to scurry away. forcing his gaze on the other he blinks when the hand disappears. he should thank him, otherwise he'd be walking around with a face covered in crumbs. but no words come and koda just nods awkwardly. no wonder i can't make friends.
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send 🤲 to cradle my character's face in your muse's hands. ― accepting.
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handgiven · 7 months
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so I swim for all salvation and i swim to save my soul but my soul is just a whisper trapped inside a tornado so i flip to my back and i float and i sing i am grounded, i am humbled, i am one with everything
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Hi all,
Long time, no update.
I've been in a weird mindspace for the past few months.
Residency is going okay, actually.
It can be stressful but overall, it hasn't been too bad.
I've been having problems in other aspects of my life (who knew, life exists outside medicine?!) and I'm at a crossroads, about to make a very important decision.
And at a loss for what to do.
I'm sitting in a crowded cafe in Luxembourg, hunched over a way-too-low-to-the-ground-table, studying for my Step 3 in 4 weeks, and struggling to focus on anything but the thoughts plaguing me, about what I should do.
I wish I could see into the future and know and actually see that everything would be okay. Because right now, I'm having trouble imagining that it would be.
sighs
I wish this cafe was more roomy & comfortable.
And that there were fewer happy people around me.
Just kidding.
I'm glad people are happy.
Okay, back to work.
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lostsouldier · 2 years
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🤍 like for a little something something from barnes ( mcu bucky )
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nevermakeawish · 1 year
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Me: *adds a community tag to my post so I don't get in trouble with the Tumblr overlords*
App: *fucks up community label*
Tumblr Overlords: we reviewed your post, and we determined that it requires a community label. Request second review?
Me: but i- ...????
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mxldito · 2 years
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Hey, hey. Just posting this to get it out of my system because I've just been stewing on it the past few days and mulling over whether or not I wanted to say something. Long story short, a non-mutual responded to an open starter and misgendered the hell outta Coyote despite me referring to them as nothing but they/them in the starter and that my bio is only a few clicks away. Of course, as a trans person myself, this made me extremely uncomfortable.
I'm aware Coyote's FC is femme-presenting but isn't cisgender and I assume their faceclaim is what was went off of. Whether it was on purpose or not, I couldn't be the judge but not reading my information or deliberately misgendering my muse will result in a hard block. There should be no excuse when the information is readily available in two different forms. Nobody following me is guilty of this, of course, but I just needed to say something out loud about it so do forgive me for making a small stink about it.
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arwenkenobi48 · 2 years
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Somehow, it just hit me all at once. Everything clicked. In that instant, I realised the true gravity of my actions, not just on my own life and the lives of my clients, but on the world at large. I had never felt so alone. A scared little angel - the angel I once was - all alone in a Hell of his own making.
I don’t know what moved me to do it. I’d never thought of doing it beforehand, not since The Fall, but I did it nonetheless. I got down on my knees, clasped my hands together and began to pray. I prayed in silence and solitude, my horned head bowed and bitter tears running down my cheeks. I prayed all throughout the night, asking my creator to show me His mercy, if He had any left for me.
With what small fragments of hope I had left, I hoped that He could forgive me. But would God even listen to a Devil’s prayer?
(Final paragraphs from a new project, titled Mephistopheles: A Love Story)
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pickletrip · 1 year
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Just feeling a little lost lately
Unable to make up my mind
Torturing my emotions to cease
Living like I have nothing to look forward to.
Now what?
What do I do in this complacent, ever hurtful situation of living?
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sylleblosscm · 2 months
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The nostalgia of finding That PlaylistTM of an old muse from another lifetime ;-; (And subsequently realising...she's better suited for your current fandoms than she ever was for your old one. Tiny, mighty, and ahead of her time <3 )
The basics of her story actually suit XV and XVI really good because they go as such:
She's the third of four children: oldest brother -> older brother -> Hadley -> younger sister
Her family is some kind of royalty-adjacent type. Her mother is usually a courtier or heiress of some kind; her father a trusted soldier, captain, and/or direct military adviser.
She never saw eye-to-eye with her mother, who wanted her to be something she isn't. Instead, her mother dotes on her perfect, girly, charming sister instead. Due to their father's status, her brothers have always been expected to be great without proving themselves. Having also been doted on by their mother, they grew up to be immature and selfish.
Hadley is naturally gifted in strategy and battle. The only sibling who's a worthy successor to her father. She had a really good relationship with him growing up, accounting for the fact that he was barely around due to work. She has no lasting resentment in this respect: if anything, she wants to grow up to be like him.
And she does. A brilliant warrior, intelligent, and a born leader, she's a one-woman army in and of herself. But she's also cold, closed off, insecure and desperate to prove herself all the time. Independant to a fault, seeming unbothered by the opinions of others but secretly craving the dare and acceptance she'd never dare ask for.
She's also deeply loyal to the house she serves, whether it be that of a king, duke, lord, or anything else. Because of her natural talent, lifelong training and unwavering servitude, she rises through the ranks pretty quickly.
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indigoraysoflight · 1 year
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Carol’s inner monologue - The Storm, 9x16 
It's supposed to be Carol's inner monologue, but at this point, it’s a ficlet.
Hilltop, after the storm.
~
Ezekiel: We made it.
Carol, internally: No, we didn't. Henry isn’t here. Wearing a mask came naturally to me when he was alive. We had walls, we had a son, we had a whole life – away from those dusty blue eyes that seared through my facade. I wanted to raise Henry like I never got to raise Sophia. Give him a life that Sophia, Lizzie, Mica, or Sam never got. That's all that mattered. But that got burned away.
Carol: Did we...?
Carol, internally: After what I went through, 'corny' was really, really nice. Being lighthearted and playful was a welcome change. When he gave me his blessing, I took it and ran. Ran from him. I told myself it was exactly what I needed. That caring deeply about you and our life was enough. But now the fairytale has ended. The storm has passed. Our son is gone. And the fog has finally lifted – I can't pretend anymore.
Carol: ...I'm going to Alexandria in the morning with the others.
Carol, internally: There’s nowhere to hide anymore. Only one person anchored me before the storm and through it. And it wasn’t you. I realize now that it never could be you.
Ezekiel: I know you have to do this, but I'll never stop loving you.
Carol, internally: ...and that's why this is so sad. I was running away from him and my family. And one day, I found myself in a life with you and Henry. It was easier to bullshit with another bullshitter. Raise our boy and hide away in a fairytale. Far away from his dusty blue eyes. Daryl's eyes. The eyes that held me gently despite everything I’d done. The eyes that peeled away layers of bullshit and saw me – all of me. 
My head was in the clouds. It kept me from realizing how much I craved the days when I went to him. How I craved to be outside the walls I had built myself. How his gentle touch, his rumbly "you good?", his earthy scent, and his quiet presence grounded me during those brief visits. Even when I hid from his intense gaze, his eyes held me strongly and effortlessly so I wouldn't lose myself to this mask I wore. And my heart broke a bit more every time I came back to the Kingdom without him by my side. 
Then Henry died, and just like that – the mask shattered.
When I saw our son’s head on that spike, the world around me faded. A distant memory screamed in my ears. I suddenly realized how much Henry looked like her. I felt myself drift into the abyss when his arms gripped me tightly. And his dusty blue eyes locked with mine. The eyes I tried so hard to avoid all these years. They bore into my soul – pained, earnest, pleading but steady. And held on to me desperately before I slipped away. 
'Just look at me. Just look at me.'
And I did. The walls I built crumbled to dust around me, leaving me bare and vulnerable. And my only conscious thought was Daryl. The only one I wanted to see was him. The only one I wanted there with me was him. The only one I wanted to hold me together as I fell apart was him. Daryl. It was always him. He held me together when my world fell apart back at the farm. And he held me together when it fell apart again. His eyes held me gently, and his arms held me tightly, as they carried me through the storm. And he stopped me from slipping away, from being consumed and turned into ashes. 
I can't say what you want to hear. I can’t give you what you want. I never could. I care about you and our fairytale enough not to lie. Because I can't lie anymore. Not to you.
Not to me.
Carol: ...And I'll never regret the fairytale.
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Gif by the brilliant @mcbride​
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assriels · 2 months
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mamma mia!
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pairing: cassian x reader x azriel
summary: cassian has loved and longed for you for as long as he can remember, despite your long established relationship with his brother. he teeters on the edge of giving up on the idea of you ever loving him back. until…
(heavily inspired by ripley’s rendition of the original abba song)
warnings: angsty cassian, cass’s inner musings and monologue, very slightly alludes to sexual content
word count: 2.5k
a/n: first writing post on this silly little sideblog of mine :’) toying with the idea of a pt. 2 but i’m not too sure yet & credit to cafekitsune for the cute banner!
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Cassian had never been so completely and utterly in love with anyone the way he was with you. One look at you smiling up at him made golden bells ring in his head, reverberating in his chest and filling his limbs with a tingling urgency to hold you. The feel of your skin and body slotting perfectly against his made the world stop spinning on its axis, leaving him lightheaded with sheer bliss. You incapacitated him in a way that not even the most fearsome of enemies he’s faced have before.
But you were not his. You would never be his.
You were Azriel’s through and through.
Though he would never think to scorn his brother for finding love, Cassian had asked himself on countless occasions…Why did it have to be with you?
You, who he would shun the very moon and stars his court cherished for. You, who could bring him to his knees with a simple brush of your fingers against his hand. You, who he wanted so intrinsically but could not have.
When he brought you to the townhouse all those decades ago, he had never once thought feelings like this would develop for you. At the time, he had just thought you a skilled fighter, one who could be trained and honed for the advantage of the Night Court. You were his friend and training partner. Someone he could shoot the shit with at the end of a long day, someone who listened and empathized and cared for him in a way no one else had before.
Cassian wasn’t entirely sure when he started realizing that his feelings for you ran deeper than friendship. He presumed he had begun to become aware of them after he had told you the story of his mother and you cried for him, looked into his eyes and told him you saw him.
He knew for sure he loved you after you had come to him in the middle of the night once, waking him to train. You had hit harder than you ever had before in between telling him of your own losses and suffering, cueing him into the nightmares that often plagued you because of them. That night he had stayed up with you until day broke over the horizon, exchanging stories and laughter and tears.
It was that night that he had unwittingly begun planning his future around you. He thought he had all the time in the world to explore these newfound feelings, wanted to let them simmer and develop with the beautiful slow burn courting that you deserved. He had wanted to take his time to do things right, show you just how much he cherished you, how much you held his devotion in the palm of your hand.
Cassian knew himself, and knew he fell hard and fast, and he never wanted to risk ruining things with you until he was absolutely certain you felt the same. But, if Cassian could turn back time, he’d kick his own ass and tell himself to just fucking tell you.
He never stood a chance, though. Not when you looked at Azriel like he had hand placed every star in the sky for you.
Initially, Cassian had been so blinded by his own infatuation with you that he failed to see the burgeoning love between you and Azriel. What he once thought was camaraderie between you blossomed into something much, much more. And it wasn’t until you had confessed to Cassian during one of your nightly training sessions that you felt crazy for falling for the Shadowsinger did Cassian finally piece everything together.
The lingering gazes, the pink cheeks, the brushing of hands beneath the table when you thought no one was looking.
It was all right in front of his face and he felt humiliatingly moronic for not noticing it sooner. His best friend — brother — and the love of his life, falling together like two pieces of a puzzle. He had felt his heart shatter that night, unable to respond to your heartfelt confession. You had taken it as confirmation that he thought you were crazy, that Azriel could never feel the same way that you did, and panicked. Cassian had been quick to assuage your fears, telling you that Azriel would be the insane one if he didn’t feel the same way, that you were more than Azriel could have ever dreamed of having in his lifetime.
Looking back on it now, he supposed he was confessing his own love to you. In a twisted, cruel sort of way, hoping that you’d see he was speaking of his own feelings rather than Azriel’s, that he was so desperately wanting to give himself to you the way you were eager to give yourself to his brother.
Part of him regretted placating you, and he wondered what might have been different if he had lied and said Azriel didn’t feel the same way. But he knew that would hurt you, and though he could be selfish, he loved you too much to ever be the source of your anguish.
Cassian would rather tear himself to shreds than make you cry.
And so he stood on the sidelines for the first time since becoming General of the Night Court and watched you fall hopelessly in love with Azriel.
It pained him to admit it, but the love you and Azriel shared was one for the legends. More nights than not, Cassian had willingly tormented himself, asking Azriel of the state of your relationship. Cassian had listened with rapt attention — desperate to gain any morsel of you that he could — as Azriel waxed poetic about how perfect and lovely you were. That he would quite literally go to war for the way you smiled at him, a sentiment that Cassian so deeply empathized with that he wanted to rip his hair out. Azriel loved you so completely, though — maybe even in ways that Cassian himself had never done — and he’d do anything to preserve your happiness.
Everyone else saw it, too. Said it was only a matter of time before the mating bond snapped into place. And when it did, it would be a nail in Cassian’s coffin, cementing his feelings beneath an ironclad lockbox six feet under.
But it hadn’t snapped yet, and Cassian could continue living in his self-indulgent fantasy of you for a little bit longer. Over the years, his love ebbed and flowed, sometimes almost disappearing before rearing its head in full force. But for the most part, he kept it under lock and key, watching with an aching heart as you and Azriel fell deeper in love with each passing moment.
Even now as he looked on at you and Azriel, cozied up on the balcony watching the array of stars pass during Starfall, Cassian didn’t let so much as an eye twitch give way to his true feelings. You and Azriel truly were a sight to behold; two of the most beautiful fae in the Night Court — probably all of Prythian — illuminated by the light of the stars. The thought made Cassian sigh, unable to tear his gaze away from you so beautiful, looking at another male with so much adoration twinkling in your eyes. He looked and looked even though it was shredding every last bit of dignity he had.
You said something that made Azriel toss his head back in laughter, your own tinkling chuckle winding with his in a beautiful symphony that curled around Cassian’s ears mockingly. He watched as Azriel placed a firm kiss to your forehead, muttering something against your skin that made you blush. He was sure it was something complimentary (and maybe even a bit lewd), what with how you looked tonight. And Cassian didn’t blame his brother one bit for wanting to let you know just how captivating you looked. Dress shimmering under the starlight, you were radiant, a perfect imitation of the stars streaking across the blackened sky.
Cassian’s hazel gaze slid to the curve of your back where he found Azriel’s ringed fingers teasingly playing with the zipper there, his lips pressed to the crown of your hair, no doubt whispering the fantasies and plans he had for the two of you once the night ended. Cassian forced his thoughts away from the image of you bare and wanting on the plush sheets of your bed, reaching up to skate your fingers across the tattoos on Azriel’s chest.
It was a sight he’d move Heaven and Earth to see, even if it were through his brother’s eyes. Even if he knew you’d never look at him the way he so desperately wished you could.
The ache of pining lingered deep in Cassian’s chest and he snapped himself out of his longing. He was being ridiculous, he thought. You and Azriel had been together for years — it must’ve been at least a decade by now. It was about time that Cassian had started the painful ascent from his fall for you all those decades ago.
Cassian knocked the rest of his drink back, and resolved to enjoy Starfall with you and the rest of his family despite the complicated stir of emotions that had plagued him for decades. But before he could turn and find Mor or Amren or Rhys, you were approaching him, two empty champagne glasses balanced between your fingers.
You smiled at him and he felt his chest tighten at the exhilarating urge to feel it against his own lips, “Enjoying Starfall, Cass?”
“Not as much as you, clearly,” he said with a wink, gesturing to the glasses in your hand. “That’s gotta be…what? Your sixth glass tonight?”
Teasing you like he always had came easy. No matter how he felt about you, you were still his dear friend, something he valued above almost everything else; he could put his love for you aside for right now.
You rolled your eyes and swatted at him playfully, “Seventh, actually. And I’m here to collect my eighth.”
You weren’t as drunk as Cassian thought you were, but you were pleasantly lightheaded, feeling floaty as you maneuvered around the room. A heady feeling of light relaxation settled in your bones. But maybe you were drunker than you thought, as one staggering, misplaced step had you stumbling over the hem of your dress.
Before you could fall and knock the entire table of faerie wine over, Cassian caught your elbow and steadied you. You turned to him, sheepishly offering him thanks and making a joke about your state of intoxication and lack of coordination.
Cassian didn’t hear any of what you said, though. Only felt the electrifying pulse of your skin beneath his fingers and a persistent tug beneath his ribcage. It was like something whipped into place, and he heard those golden bells again, taunting him as the breath whooshed out of his lungs like he’d been punched in the gut with an iron fist.
Mate, the bells sung to him.
Cassian thought he would pass out, and by the look of concern that swiftly marred your beautiful countenance, he knew he looked the part.
“Cassian? Are you alright?”
He let go of your elbow so swiftly that if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought you burnt him. He shook his head, schooling his features back into his usual playful demeanor with practiced ease, “I think maybe I’ll take this off your hands before you fall into the Sidra next.”
The Mother — cruel, cruel thing — knew he needed it.
He plucked the faerie wine from your hands and chugged as Azriel approached. The cocktail of emotions he swallowed burned their way down his throat much more painfully than the alcohol, and his head spun in such a way that not even the hard liquor at Rita’s could emulate.
The shadowsinger wrapped a steadying arm around your waist and Cassian did his best to tame the roiling possession that threatened to cleave his ribs apart.
Truthfully, Cassian didn’t hear any of the conversation that he partook in with you and his brother; he could only hear the thundering of his pulse in his ears as he grappled with his revelation and the bittersweet feelings that came with it.
Wasn’t this what he’d been wanting this whole time? He should be happy, but he wasn’t.
His thoughts drifted to the past, hearing Azriel talking about you like you were an angel sent to deliver him from the clutches of earthly suffering. He remembered snippets, glimpsing into memories of his brother looking at you with a softness Cassian didn’t think he was capable of, recollections of him worshiping you in small, meaningful ways. It was the way Azriel was looking at you now, and Cassian felt a wicked, torturous twist in his gut.
In this moment more than any other, Cassian was cruelly reminded that while he loved you from afar for decades, Azriel had cultivated a life with you filled with passion and love and plans for the future.
The sound of your yawn broke Cassian out of his mental turmoil, demanding his attention once more. He couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips at the cute way your nose scrunched when you yawned, sleepy tears collecting at the edges of your eyes. When he looked at you now, the noises echoing off the walls of the House were muted, muffled as his ears attuned to you and you alone.
You leaned into Azriel tiredly — something Cassian did his best to ignore — and fixed your gaze upon him.
“You should go and enjoy Starfall, Cass. You’ve been inside for the past hour,” you said, hints of fond amusement in your voice. “I heard that Feyre’s brought a friend that’s been dying to meet you.”
He knew you meant well, knew that you played matchmaker only because you wanted him to be happy and find the love that you knew existed. But your words and the conspiratorial wink you tossed his way, sent his heart into a painful spiral. Your encouragement that he put himself out there to find someone to love was a cruel reminder that you did not feel for him the way he felt for you.
“Maybe I’ll go find her, then,” Cassian responded, doing his best to maintain the nonchalant bantering tone everyone expected of him, despite knowing that you’d be going to bed with another male. His mate, happy in someone else’s — his brother’s — embrace.
It was only when Azriel led you away with a laugh and a quick goodnight in his direction did Cassian allow himself to loose the breath he was holding.
Mate, that persistent voice in his head whispered, which he pointedly ignored as he sauntered off to find Feyre, desperate to rid himself of the gnawing guilt and sick heartbreak that clawed at his chest.
Holy Mother above… the Cauldron was cruel and he was so fucked.
part 2
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[ 🤷‍♀️ ] how does your muse approach strangers? how does this compare to how they interact with close friends or lovers?
It really depends what Robin to talk about. Like unless it's about books or something specific, Robin can be pretty awkward and quiet with strangers. Except in combat or emergency situations, then her inner tactician makes her more confident. Robin is a lot less formal with close friends, almost careless in how she comes off? Like she will say some cheesy, emotional stuff that she would never say to a stranger. Robin is 70% inner monologue with strangers and 50% with friends. The less Robin is thinking before speaking, the more friendly she is basically.
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