#It was instinctual and he regretted it the moment he said it

[prythianpages]

Tonight, the Light of Love is in Your Eyes

Azriel x Rhysand's Sister (reader) | You find yourself in the middle of a political affair, where you seek refuge in a dance with Azriel. And in the spur of the moment, Azriel tells you he loves you for the first time.

warnings: secret love, implied smut (brief mention), you and az being impulsive and risking it all

word count: 1,900

a/n: I used the dialogue of this scene from The Witcher as a prompt for this fic.

“Hybern is still close to Spring. Though they’ve lost the war, it seems their alliance still stands. Bradwell has shown interest in her, it’d be best if she takes his favor tonight. Or even Tamlin’s, they are closer in age.”

Your gaze is fixed forward, but your mind drifts, creeping into the quiet mental conversation between your father and brother. They speak of you, as if your own desires are inconsequential, and it stings more than you let show.

“Why should she? When the High Lord of Autumn, who fought alongside our armies, has six sons and one on the way…”

Breathe in, breathe out. You force the command on yourself, struggling to maintain the composure you’ve perfected over years of courtly life. The mask you wear feels more fragile tonight, your heart threatening to crack the facade. 

You allow your eyes to wander and regret it when you meet the gaze of Bradwell–the eldest son of Spring. He is watching you, green eyes gleaming with a predatory sharpness, his smirk oozing arrogance. As if you’re a prize to be won–a prize already won. The sight of it turns your stomach. 

It’s instinctual almost–the way your eyes gravitate toward Azriel as they always do at the slightest discomfort. He’s been your anchor, your safety blanket for years. He stands just a few steps below you, tall and stoic. 

His hands are clenched into fists, shadows weaving and writhing along his limbs in a frenzy, whispering secrets to him that you ache to hear. His head is turned toward Bradwell and there’s no doubt his gaze is hardened into an icy composure when the eldest of Spring suddenly peels his gaze off of you.  

As you pull your gaze away from the Night Court’s Spymaster, you catch your mother’s eye. She sits beside your father on a much simpler throne. She sends you a sympathetic smile and you cast your gaze down, mask faltering as a blush creeps up your neck.

By the Cauldron, how you wish you could be anywhere but here. You’d much rather be alongside Cassian and Mor, who are most likely indulging in the fine wine and cheeses. The only redeeming part of these insufferable court parties.

“Is it not best to keep our most at-risk enemies close? Spring–”

Your body tenses, each muscle coiling as you listen to the words between your brother and father, their minds still unaware of your presence within them. It’s laughable, almost. Rhysand taught you well. You were a later bloomer when it came to the manifestation of your powers but the daemati power runs strong in you. 

Movement catches your eye. It’s Bradwell. He begins to make his way toward you, one hand already reaching for the sage-green handkerchief embroidered with a golden beast. A token you know he plans to offer. The sight of it makes something in you snap. You can’t take it anymore.

You whip your head around, your heart pounding, and your gaze finds Azriel once more—the only one you want. The only one you’ve ever wanted.

“Azriel, will you dance with me?”

The words escape your lips before you even realize you’ve said them. There’s a brief moment where the world seems to still as Azriel turns to meet your gaze. His eyes widen slightly, shadows pausing briefly in midair–the only sign of emotion he shows. 

But you feel a flutter in your chest.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s danced with you. The two of you have danced plenty of times before. However, it’d be the first time you’d give him your first dance. A notion that seems silly but held to a high esteem in the Court of Nightmares.

You feel your father’s and Rhysand’s gaze also on you–the latter’s eyes narrowing at you. He’s already sensed the lingering presence you left in his mind, and you can feel his talons scratching at the edges of your mental walls. But you hold steady, just as he taught you and push him away.

Azriel keeps his eyes on you yet his shadows peer over his shoulders, the dark tendrils darting back and forth between your brother and father. Cautious and a bit defensive.

It’s your mother who breaks the silence. She had kept her gaze on the dance floor in front of her, that same knowing smile playing on her lips. “It is impolite to keep a lady waiting.”

Azriel nods his head. “Of course.”

He shifts forward–one foot resting on the first step while the other remains on the ground floor. He extends his scarred hand to you, his shadows barely able to contain their excitement, betraying the cool mask he dons.

You smile—truly smile—as you place your hand in his, and together, you walk toward the dance floor. Your heart swells with defiance as you purposefully avert your eyes when passing Bradwell, chin held high. Rhysand’s mental claws scratch harder, desperate to break through your defenses. You continue to shut him out, strengthening the walls of your mind. 

The Cauldron simmers in your favor. As you reach the dance floor, the music shifts to a slower, more romantic melody. Azriel’s hand wraps around yours, his fingers enclosing around your palm while his other hand rests gently at the small of your back. The tension in your body melts under his touch and you find yourself leaning in closer to him, your body always yearning to be with his.

Shadows slither softly around you, hiding within the seams of your black dress like a protective shield. Azriel’s eyebrows furrow and you recognize the brief distant look in his eyes. “Rhys is not happy,” he murmurs. “Your first dance was supposed to be with the eldest son of Spring.”

His jaw clenches and you see the way his shadows curl tighter around him as if to suffocate the jealousy he dares not voice.

“Let him sulk. I get to decide who to dance with, who to be with.”

Azriel was the master of composure. He’s always calm, steady, controlled. But tonight, something in his gaze feels different. There’s something vulnerable there, something pained. He looks away for a moment, as if trying to keep his emotions from manifesting further. 

“I can’t offer you what he can..."

His hand twitches in yours, like he’s about to pull away, but you hold him tighter. “Good,” you respond without hesitation. “I don’t want anything that arrogant ass has to offer.”

Azriel’s eyes snap back to yours, searching, conflicted. He hesitates, as if still grappling with the part of himself that believes he doesn’t deserve this. That you deserve more, much better than him. Someone who can give you the world, not someone who only knows to live in the shadows.

You intertwine your fingers with his, lips curling into a small grin. “Your ass is the only one I want,” you add, your power reaching out to him and gently slipping past his defenses to show him the marvelous view you had of his backside earlier.

And as your thoughts drift to the last night you shared together, where you got to see all of him, Azriel lets out an exhale, his lips mirroring the upwards curl to yours. Taking advantage of the grip you have on his mind, you show him more memories from that night. The way his scarred hands had caressed every inch of your body, his lips following the path his hands made…

 “I can’t give you much,” Azriel’s voice had dropped to a whisper, barely a rasp as he leaned his forehead against yours. His nose brushed with yours, lips hovering right over your own.  “But I can give you everything I have.”

You smiled softly at him, your fingers brushing the side of his face, tracing every line and contour of the male who held your heart. So beautiful, so perfect. 

“That’s all I’ll ever need,” you replied and then closed the small gap between you to kiss him.

The pained look in his hazel eyes melts into something warmer, something sweeter, as he takes in the memories of that night through your eyes. He had never doubted your love, but the weight of his own insecurities—his belief that he was beneath you—constantly gnawed at him.

Every time he touched you in secret, every night you spent hidden away together, he feared that someday you might wake up and realize he wasn’t enough.

But here, dancing with you, the way your eyes held him, he felt that overwhelming doubt ease. To see and feel the depth of your sincerity, as if your very soul called out to his…

“I love you.”

Your heart stilled at the words, your step faltering. In a smooth maneuver, Azriel spins you around, catching you effortlessly before you could stumble. His hands steady you as you face him once more.

 “That’s the first time you’ve said that,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper, though you know Azriel’s shadows are already ensuring no one else can hear your words.

“It can’t be,” Azriel murmurs in disbelief, brows furrowing slightly. 

“You used to think it,” you quietly admit, your gaze dropping for a moment before returning to his. It wasn’t that you had ever meant to pry, but when it was just the two of you, his mind was often at ease, unguarded. Sometimes, his thoughts would be too loud for you to ignore. “But tonight, you finally said it.”

The shadows hidden within the lacey seams of your dress stir and you watch as one of the shadows lingering over Azriel’s shoulders slithers up and curls around his ear. His grip on you tightens and your ears perk up. 

The song is coming to an end and though couples continue to dance and whirl around you, your nose picks up on an approaching scent. Fresh wildflowers and oak—rich and lovely, exuding the essence of Spring. Yet it fills you with dread. You don’t want this moment to end. You’re tired of pretending, of living this life of secrecy.

“Azriel,” you say, one hand reaching out toward his face to turn his attention back to you. A bold move but tonight, you’re ready to be even bolder. “Kiss me.”

His shadows stir, swirling anxiously around him, their whispers warning that too many eyes are upon you both. You can feel his hesitation, the unspoken question in his gaze as he searches your face.

“In front of everyone,” you confirm. Show them I’m yours, you speak into his mind, and only yours.

Azriel pauses, his chest tightening at the implication of your words. He can feel Rhysand’s presence–furious and demanding– trying to slip into his mind. No doubt trying to steer him away from this impulsive display and away from you. 

He feels the weight of the room pressing down on him—the sons of Spring and Autumn watching his every breath.

But all of that falls away when he meets your eyes again. 

There is only you in this moment.

The one who had always been able to see through his walls, the one who made him feel like the most precious thing in the room, the only one he cared about.

“Kiss me,” you whisper again.

And Azriel is not going to let you ask a third time.

Not when the light of love is shining so brightly in your eyes. His hand covers yours on his cheek, and then, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that silences the room.

Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

a/n: It's been awhile since I wrote for Az. Miss this shadow daddy lol. Part 2 is already up 🫶🏽 you can find it here.

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

fic tag: @noisyinfluencerstrawberry

[gffa]

Star Wars: From a Certain Point of View: Return of the Jedi | "Brotherhood" I NEED YOU TO UNDERSTAND THAT I STRAIGHT UP CRIED REAL TEARS AT THIS MOMENT. IT WAS EXACTLY WHAT I HAVE ALWAYS WANTED TO READ AND IT HIT ME RIGHT IN MY EMOTIONS. I was so wary going into this story, because the concepts of Force Ghosts are deeply important to me on a narrative level, that the Force and Lucas' philosphy in the movies and for the worldbuilding is that the message is: You need to let go when it's time. You can't hold on beyond anything or anyone's time, it will only cause you and others suffering. So, when Anakin's fiery determination seemed to be what kept him around as a Force ghost, I sighed a bit and kept shouldering on. I did not expect to be hit by the one-two-three-four punch of Obi-Wan's gentle guidance to get Anakin to the other side of the Force, Anakin's regret for what he'd done and the heart-wrenching way he instinctively turns to Obi-Wan and listens to him, Anakin looking on over his children with pride and faith in what they would do next, and then the ultimate message: "Finally, Anakin Skywalker let go." I AM EMOTIONAL. MY BOY FINALLY GOT TO THE PLACE THAT GAVE HIM PEACE. It was a perfect build-up to where Anakin needed to be in this moment, that this story is centered around the depth of his connection to Obi-Wan, that it's instinctual for him to reach out and grab onto the hand Obi-Wan is holding out to him, to turn to Obi-Wan and listen, like a flower turns towards the sun, now that he's out of the worst of the haze of the dark side. To seeing his children, seeing Padme in them, seeing both of them in the twins, and finally, finally letting all that noise in his head go. Trusting that Luke and Leia and their friends would make their own way forward. "It just took one final nudge from Obi-Wan to get there. Finally, Anakin Skywalker let go." What a perfect summation of Anakin's character and his difficult journey, his relationship with Obi-Wan, and one of the most central themes George Lucas intended for Star Wars. Becoming a Force Ghost is about letting go--Qui-Gon said that in the original ROTS script, he said it in TCW, the OWK show basically had the same message, and now Anakin has gotten there, too. That it acknowledged his part in everything that happened and did it with tremendous compassion, because that's what Jedi are all about. Obi-Wan has let go as well, he doesn't hang onto the hurt or the suffering, especially not when he will gain so much by letting go and embracing compassion for Anakin. He gently guides Anakin to understanding that he wasn't solely responsible for everything, only for the choices he made. Those choices were terrible, he bears that mark, they aren't erased just because Anakin is sorry, but holding onto all that guilt and pain is just more suffering. Obi-Wan has let go and, through that, he can guide Anakin to let go as well, and regain his friend. This is everything the Jedi have always taught coming to fruition. So, I'm emotional for my baby boy, that he finally got there after a lifetime of struggling, that he's finally at peace, and I'm emotional as a Star Wars fan, that the themes of my favorite franchise were just knocked out of the park.

[cupcakeslushie]

i love that you said each of the bois have unspoken themes to them, that makes characters so much more deeper and interesting.

if you wouldn’t mind can you say what unspoken themes Leo, Mikey, and Raph have?

some are more obvious than others, and while i have a decent idea of what they are, i want to hear them coming from you ✨

adore your work btw, your storytelling and style enraptures me

This might be a big post just so I have everyone all in one place im going to reiterate what I said for Donnie

@aduckmurder

Donnie: Identity/Depersonalization

When Donnie's first introduced Draxum doesn't even consider him a person, and hadn't even given him a name. And then, later Donnie's got too many names to choose from. That alone would cause someone to have an identity crisis. Personality wise, he enjoys making tech, but aside from that, Donnie is never sure of which emotions he should be feeling, or what his likes and dislikes are. A lot of the time he's mirroring how his brothers are emoting, or he's just smiling to cover up the fact that he doesn't know or trust his own feelings. Future Donnie will have a horrible time with depersonalization after merging with the Technodrome and the Kraang, which will cycle around to impact present timeline Donnie during the movie.

Mikey: Worth

While Donnie was treated like nothing, Mikey was treated like an object/accessory by Big Mama. When she threw him into the Nexus, Mikey imagined it was something he did or didn't do well enough to meet her high standards. After he's reunited with Splinter and Raph, Mikey finds the little roles that neither of them have filled very well, such as cooking, and cleaning, and makes sure he excels at them almost obsessively out of this fear that if he's not useful, then he will be discarded. Future Mikey works tirelessly as the only brother with his mystic powers still intact, to the point that his body is so overworked by the time of the movie, he looks like he's moments from shattering apart, only held together through his own force of will.

Leo: Doubt

Leo has lived his life being ordered around and having his memories and personality altered. Even once he is free, his emotions are almost as erratic without Kitsune's influence, than they were while he was under her control (at least until his own cleansing ritual). His instinctual gut reaction to use most violent tactic first, clearly makes his family uneasy. So when Raph tries to get Leo to act as co-leader, Leo is very hesitant. He doesn't think he should be trusted with such a responsibility, but learns he can trust if he goes too far, his brothers will stop him. Future Leo has a really hard time with raising Casey. After Raph's gone, Leo doesn't trust any of the decisions he's now having to make solo, and he certainly doesn't think he can be a guiding force for good for a young child. Casey needs a teacher who will shape him into a strong warrior. Leo learns as Casey grows, that being the boy's Sensei is not the same as being his Master.

Raph: Regret/Guilt

Raph blames himself for almost every horrible thing his brothers and father have gone through. He's recounted the night that Leo and Mikey were taken, and gone over it a thousand times in his head, trying to work out how it could've gone differently. All the amazing things he's done by bringing his family together--being the stable bedrock that they can grow into a true family under--none of that feels like it'll ever make up for the times in the past where he failed to protect them. Raph takes on the job of shield because he wants to make sure nothing else ever hurts his brothers again, and doesn't care if hurts him instead. Future Raph is constantly putting his brothers' lives before his own. Unfortunately, doing it one too many times results in a devastating loss for the Resistance, when their Leader sacrifices himself, and the chain of command practically falls apart for months before it can recover.

[seretoningghost]

Tomura Shigaraki x Male Reader

WARNINGS : LIME! BLOWJOB! Mild sizeplay(?) Small cock appreciation for Tomura😊💕. TOP MALE READER.

Haha. This one's a bit short but its cute.

Idk if you'd call this a lime cus like - blowjob? But Idk? No sex happens.

Ha- Imagine Y/N having a quirk that causes him to overheat when he uses it.

Quirk not mentioned.

(I HAD TEXT TO SPEECH READ IT BACK TO ME SINCE I WAS BUSY- AND YALL- WHY DOES IT MAKE EVERYTHING SOUND SO BAD😭)

THIRD PERSON POV

Y/N huffed, walking into the kitchen and opening the fridge.

Panting quietly as sweat dripped down his body, grabbing his waterbottle.

Tomura slugged into the kitchen, bored and not sure what he wanted to do.

He thought he'd maybe look for a snack - and oh, looks like he found one.

Grinning as he spotted Y/N, eyes gleeming mischievously.

Tomura stood beside the island table, suddenly feeling quite aroused - damn stupid horomones, no matter, as he was lucky and had a boyfriend.

Tomura arched his back slightly, sticking out his ass as he put his elbow on the countertop, propping up his head with his hand.

"Oh~? Overheating again? You know that is really some pathetic quirk you have~.. Being driven to even pass out from such a pathetic side effect~.." Tomura teased with his raspy voice, with a shit eating grin.

Knowing fully well Y/N was a important and vital member to L.O.V, and that it pissed Y/N off more than it rationally should.

...

That and Y/N could pound his ass sore in a fucking instant- a blush rose to Tomura's face, still not loosing his gusto.

It was still so entrancing to him that Y/N was bigger and stronger than him, and Y/N was immune to his quirk - so Tomura couldn't stop him even if he wanted to.

Y/N, who was chugging his ice cold water, huffed - pulled his water bottle from his lips and growled.

Having heard this teasing before he was so fucking done with it.

"Shigaraki you better shut your mouth- because I swear to god if you open your mouth one more time you'll regret it." Y/N glared.

Shigaraki grinned wider, eyes glinting happily, he tried to play it off - but his body collectively shivered.

Shigaraki calmly opened his mouth, his smugness still apparent as he kept his mouth open.

...

And that's how Shigaraki ended up laying on his back on a bed - head hanging off the edge, face dripping with drool - and completely getting his mouth fucked out of it.

Shigaraki would be giggling and moaning in gleeful lust - had he space in his mouth to do much more than let out a guttural moan with each thrust.

Shigaraki most certainly didn't expect this to be his punishment - but he didnt exactly object to his empty mouth being put to use.

If anyone had asked him before this moment - Shigaraki would have asked to be fucked, but Shigaraki had never like this before experienced the sheer joy and sexual enjoyment there could be in giving a blowjob.

Shigaraki was beginning to question his ability to ever again not have something stuffing his mouth.

Shigaraki had his tongue lolled out against the topside of Y/N's cock, loud lewd blowjob and instinctual gagging noises leaving his throat.

It was messy, and that was making him so horny.

A whine leaving his throat as Y/N roughly and quickly throat fucked him.

He wanted to touch himself so bad - but each time he tried Y/N said no and moved his hand away.

Shigaraki's cock throbbed against his pants, a rock hard tent pert in his pants, his cock making a large wet spot through his boxers.

He was so close to cumming - and he wasnt even embaressed at that anymore.

Shigaraki shifted his legs again, having them propped up and bent at the knees.

He didnt care how pathetic it made him look - he wanted to cum so bad - and keep cumming, Y/N was fucking his throat so good.

His eyes were practically crossed he was so fucked out of it.

There were almost no thoughts behind his eyes.

Just one remained, cum.

Whether he came - or Y/N came, he didnt care anymore. He wanted cum.

Shigaraki slowly and feebly shifted his hand - reaching for his zipper - as if being slow Y/N wouldn't see him in the lit room.

"Shigaraki.. Stop that. I said that t-this is your punishment. You can't touch yourself." Y/N groaned.

Shigaraki shuddered, feeling Y/Ns cock fuck his throat somehow deeper - it was like all the smarts in his brain were being fucked out of him.

He moved his hand away, gripping onto the bed - his gloves really coming in handy now.

Tomura suddenly bringing his thighs together and rubbing, Y/N grinned, panting as he watched.

Tomura was being a obedient little cock slut - keeping his throat open and staying still - despite how hard Y/N fucked his throat.

It was even more cute and demeaning that Shigaraki was following his commands and instead rubbing his thighs together like a bitch in heat.

"You wanna cum so bad don't you~?" Y/N teased with a grin, he was close, he just wanted to see how easily he could get Tomura to cum.

Y/N could tell by the loud moan Shigaraki made each time he got the chance that he was affirming Y/N.

"Yeah~? Yeah~? Using nothing but my cock ramming in your throat to get off~?" Y/N whined, feeling closer than he was before.

Tomura's eyes rolled back pleasurably - not that Y/N could see at his angle.

"Alright then slut... Cum~.." Y/N purred, taking a firm grip around Tomura's throat.

Shigaraki's thighs shuddered hard, a loud high pitched whine exiting his throat.

He creamed in his pants, hard.

His cock sore and throbbing from the lack of stimulation, already shuddering from the gross feel in his pants as the wettness stickily webbed between his cock - abdomen - and boxers.

It quickly getting colder.

Y/N groaned, the sight alone of Tomura convulsing on his cock causing his to cum.

Jizz shooting into Tomura's mouth.

Shigaraki moaned pathetically, his cock feeling overstimuated by the soreness.

Enjoying the large mass of sticky cum in his mouth.

A soft shudder racking down his spine.

After a few thrusts Y/N pulled out, panting loudly.

Tomura pawwed at the cum in his mouth with his tongue, soaking in the favor before swallowing.

Dribbles of cum leaking out of the corners of his lips, but he didn't care.

"Oh my... What a good boy~..." Y/N teased with a grin, putting himself back inside his boxers - still leaving his pants unzipped, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Tomura's head.

Y/N ran a hand through Tomura's hair - Tomura letting out a soft 'ghhahh' of a sigh as he finally caught his breath.

"Your still hard~... I'll just take care of that~.." Y/N grinned, licking his lips as he leaned over.

"N-No!"

Y/N looked back to Tomura.

"I-Im just so... S-sensitive - I-I can't..." Tomura whined.

Y/N was shocked, usually Tomura had a high libido and was ready to go at practically any time.

Y/N smirked, and cooed.

"I'll be gentle.. I promise~..." Y/N said as he leaned closer - undoing Tomura's zipper.

"A-Ah... N-No- please... Y-Your tongue is just so-"

Y/N wide swipe licked Shigaraki's cock from tip to base.

"W-Warm! A-a-and b-Big!" Shigaraki shuddered - cock twitching wildly against Y/N's tongue.

Shigaraki shifted on the bed whining as his cock ached against Y/Ns tongue.

"Such a big messy load this time~..." Y/N praised, gently lapping against the side of Tomura's cock.

"P-Please..." Tomura whined, looking at the ceiling.

He didn't know if he was asking for more, or begging for Y/N to stop.

But Y/N didn't pay heed, Tomura knew his safe word.

"I think this might be your biggest load yet~.." Y/N cooed as he happily licked another broad stripe on Tomura's cock.

"b-big..." Tomura squeaked - feeling Y/N's large tongue swipe against his member.

"I'm not big, your just small.. Just like your cute handsome cock~.." Y/N purred, gently taking hold of Shigaraki's base with his index and thumb - tilting his cock to lick at the topside.

Y/N always loved Shigaraki's 3-4" cock, easily being able to envelope him in his warm mouth and get whines out of him - pleading how it was too warm or stimulating.

Y/N was standardly a big guy already - but something about the exaggeration between their sizes was super hot.

Y/N opened his mouth wide - making unnecessarily lewd wet noises - spit webbing between his teeth and tongue.

Y/N was horny all over again, he wasn't hard - but even if he did get hard it would be enough to just please his lover.

Y/N made sure to flatten out his tongue as he licked stripes across Tomura's pelvic section - making his tongue as wide as possible as he lapped up the thickening cum.

Once that was all done now he just had to finish off Shigaraki's cock.

"Juuust a bit moooore~.." Y/N teased with a grin, opening his mouth noisily wide.

Shigaraki's cock twitched - before Y/N knew it Shigaraki's hands were intangled in his hair - pushing him down roughly.

Holding his head in place as Tomura fucked his mouth hard and frantically - his hips bucking up forcefully.

Y/Ns body getting hotter at how sexy it was, pushing down and doing his best to suck and swirl his tongue.

Shigaraki was huffing and whining frantically, his cock throbbing and aching from abuse - but Y/N's mouth felt so warm and soft and so good.

Shigaraki didn't care how desperate or premature it seemed - Y/N was just so hot and he wanted to cum so bad.

Letting out a sudden moan he threw back his head - Y/N placing a hand on Shigaraki's hip as his back arched.

Y/N making sure to lean in even further and lap up Shigaraki's load.

Y/N pulled off with a pop once Shigaraki had rode off his high, grinning as he looked at Shigaraki.

"Satisfied~?"

Shigaraki was panting softly, but he shifted his gaze to Y/N - seeing Y/N grin - with cum dribbling down his chin.

"Would you stop doing that!" Shigaraki whined - covering his face as he blushed.

"Doing what~?"

"Leaking cum and spit on purpose!" Shigaraki groaned.

Y/N chuckled.

_________________________________________

Hello! You made it to the end! :3🎉

Also thank you to everyone liking my stories you mean the world to me!😘 You would not BELIEVE the amount of motivation it gives me!

[hbyrde36]

Times Like These

(The Anniversary Edition)

Link to anniversary post

Now with amazing FANART 😱

When Eddie finds himself back in his living room, staring down a very alive Chrissy Cunningham, after just having bled to death himself in the middle of a nightmare world, he was rightfully very, very fucking confused.

-Or-

What happens when the new guy, who only just got inducted into the fucked up world of monsters and mayhem, gets stuck in a time loop and finds himself responsible for saving everyone?

Chapter 1: The Hell Loop

WC: 2,902 | AO3 link

Eddie could hardly breathe past the blood that was flooding into his mouth, threatening to choke him before he even had the opportunity to bleed out. He tried to keep it together for Dustin’s sake. The last thing he wanted was for the kid to get hurt or have to see something like this, hence the cutting of the rope, but traumatized was a hell of a lot better than dead, so he couldn’t regret either of the choices he’d made.

“I love you, man.” 

Eddie forced the words out, coughing and sputtering

“I love you too.” Dustin replied.

Eddie couldn’t see anymore, but the tears in the younger boy's voice were hard to miss. 

It was the last thing he heard before he died.

Dying didn’t hurt, quite the opposite actually. Eddie could pinpoint the exact moment he passed on, because it was the same moment the pain stopped. He found himself floating away into an unfamiliar blackness and couldn’t even bring himself to be scared. He was too relieved at being free of the agony and guilt.

Before he could do much more than wonder where he was floating off to, a loud almost overwhelming rushing sound hit his ears. Instinctually, he tried to cover them to drown out the noise, only to realize he didn’t exactly have a body right now. No ears to cover, no hands to do it with.

With that frightening thought his eyes shot open, -oh thank fuck he had eyes again- and his feet hit solid ground. Inexplicably, he was back in the trailer. He looked up to find that the ceiling was intact, and Chrissy Cunningham– whole, and alive, was standing just a few feet in front of him, looking nervous and jittery. 

“Are you sure you have it?”

What the actual fuck?

“Holy shit, Chrissy! You’re alive?!” Eddie gasped.

Her face twisted up in confusion, a feeling Eddie was also becoming intimately familiar with. What was this? Some life-flashing-before-your-eyes-on-the-way-to-the-grave bullshit? But he was already dead, he was sure of it, so that could only mean…

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out. 

Why he was apologizing to some visage of the past that probably wasn't even real, he did not know, but it felt appropriate. 

She’d been through a lot. 

“You’re probably not alive, actually, if you’re here. Since I'm, y’know– dead, and all.” He continued, letting out a frankly deranged sounding laugh as he began to pace around the room.

“But why are you here?” He mused, thinking out loud.

It could actually be her, he reasoned. She was dead too, right? But that would mean they wound up in the same place and that was absolutely ridiculous. 

A sweet little thing like her? 

Guaranteed one way ticket to the good place. 

And Eddie? 

Well, he never had any doubts about where he was going to end up.

The realization hit him like a Mack truck, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Oh my god, I’m in Hell. This is Hell. I ran away. I ran– I didn’t even try to help you and then I fucking died!” Eddie let out a painful sob as he dropped to his knees on the floor, hands covering his face. Now that he was back here, having to face her again after what he’d done, It was all hitting him at once. 

His voice shook as he continued rambling. “Right in front of Dustin too… and- and now this is my Hell. I’ll probably have to watch you die, over-and-over-and-over again.”

He felt the air shift, heard the light footsteps as Chrissy took a few hesitant steps towards him. 

“Watch me die?” She said, voice cracking, sounding so, so small and scared. “Eddie, please… you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Shit, he really couldn’t stop fucking this up could he? 

Even if Hell-Chrissy wasn’t real, he still felt horrible for scaring her. None of this was her fault. He rubbed at his face hard and took a deep calming breath before looking up at her again. 

She wasn’t looking at him anymore though. She was rigid, staring straight ahead at something he couldn’t see, only the whites of her eyes visible as they rolled to the back of her head. 

He jumped to his feet, every instinct in his body screaming at him to run, again, but fuck that. He was already dead, probably, and none of this was real– he was almost sure none of this was real, but maybe he could still try to help her. 

Music had snapped Red out of it, maybe it would work for Chrissy too. 

Eddie raced to his bedroom, snatching his Walkman off the bed before sprinting back to the living room. He knew it was pretty fucking unlikely that the head cheerleader of Hawkins High was a secret Metallica fan, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

He gently placed the headphones over her ears and pressed play, the volume loud enough that he could just make out the sound of the opening riff to Master of Puppets.

-

It didn’t work. 

He hadn’t really thought it would.

He forced himself to watch as her body began to float.

Listened to the sickening snap as each of her arms and legs were twisted, and broken.

Stood frozen, a silent witness, unmoving until her body dropped to the floor like a ragdoll.

He didn't even scream.

He’d tried, and he hadn’t let her die alone. It was all he could do.

Hell or not, Eddie wasn’t keen on hanging out with a dead body if he could help it. So finally, he let himself go, grabbing his keys off the counter, and rushed out to the van.

–

Eddie drove slowly, aimlessly around town, at a bit of a loss for what to do next. It was a far cry from the way he’d peeled out of the trailer park and sped down the road on the night of Chrissy’s actual death, heart racing like a trapped rat desperately seeking shelter from a predator he couldn't even see. This time around he just felt numb.

Not knowing what else to do, he decided to follow his previous course of action. If he was right in assuming that he was being made to relive his greatest hits from the last 7 days, at least this way he knew he’d get to see Dustin’s face again. He drove towards Lover’s Lake, already dreading spending another night at Rick’s.

–

The morning after a sleepless night found him back in a boat, hiding under a tarp, and clutching tightly to the neck of a broken beer bottle. The numbness had faded hours ago, leaving the door open for anxiety and terror to return in full force. In short, Eddie was freaking out. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d left Chrissy's body to grow cold on the living room floor, but the second he heard the voices outside the boathouse he went into panic mode, just as he had the first time, unsure of what or who might be coming for him. 

Would it be more visions from the past? Or had the devil finally sent his minions to collect.

A few confusing moments, and a jab to the ribs with a fucking wooden oar later, Eddie was, for the second time in his life, throwing Steve Harrington violently against a wall and shoving a jagged edge of glass close enough to his throat that one deep breath would draw blood.

He stared into the other boy's eyes from inches away, and he wanted to drop the bottle. He remembered every single thing Steve and the others had done for him as he faced down the worst week of his life, but this could very well be Hell. 

And that might not be the Steve he’d come to trust.

The one he’d come to know wasn’t the same stuck up asshole he remembered from high school, who had proven time and time again that he was a good guy.

And he couldn’t afford to be wrong.

“Eddie! Stop!” The thing that looked like Dustin shouted. “Eddie, it’s me, it's Dustin. This is Steve, he’s not gonna hurt you. Right, Steve?”

Eddie, wanting to believe it so badly, actually did lower the bottle a little, only to accidentally drop it to the ground, his only weapon shattering at his feet. 

He fisted a hand into the front of Steve’s shirt. 

“What are you doing here man, what do you want from me?” 

Steve dropped the oar, all the breath whooshing out of him at once. “Dustin and Max wanted to find you. I’m just here to keep the little shits safe, I swear.”

Eddie caught movement out of the corner of his eye as Robin and Max began to approach from the side cautiously. Right, they had been there too, he'd almost forgotten. 

“We just want to know what happened, Eddie. We wanna help,” Max said.

It was the earnestness in her voice that got him, that made him finally break and move away from Steve, allowing Robin to rush to his side. 

“You won’t believe me,” Eddie said, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice with the way it trembled. 

He was sure they wouldn't believe it. If it even mattered, if they were even really here, if any of this was even real. 

He was still pretty convinced this was all just some form of divine punishment, and only happening in his own head, after all. 

It wasn’t about what happened to Chrissy. He knew they would believe that, they had once already, but whatever else was going on here? This deja vu flashback thing or whatever it was? They had no reason to trust he was telling the truth about the fact that he was dead– or had died temporarily? Or that this had all happened to him before. 

It was, admittedly, unbelievable. 

So, he made a choice. He didn't tell them that part. He told the same story he had the first time around and they in turn told him a very short history of the Upside Down. It didn’t hit so hard this time, since he’d already heard it all once before, but it was still wild to think about everything this group had been through. He couldn’t believe it’d all been happening right under his nose.

Despite himself, he watched Steve through most of the explanations. Eddie had been so focused on his own experience at the time that he hadn’t paid much attention to him after the attempted throat slashing. He looked dejected, sad, already resigned to the fact that the monsters he’d been protecting these kids from for years now were back, again. Eddie sympathized.

-

The week flew by in a blur of blood, sweat, and tears, events unfolding in the exact same way that he remembered, and he never said a word about it to anyone. 

He kept expecting it all to end somehow. 

On the rare occasion that he fell asleep,  he thought for sure he would wake up from this nightmare either back in his bed after having the longest most fucked up dream of his life, or somewhere– else, preferably on a fluffy cloud after having served his penance for petty crimes.

Unless god actually did hate the gays… then he was fucked. 

It wasn’t until he and Dustin were alone, after fortifying the trailer and getting his guitar set up that he decided– maybe he’d been an idiot to just keep going along with the script like this. It’d been days without so much as a hint of fire and brimstone, so either he'd been sold a bill of goods his whole life about what Hell would be like, or, this was really happening. 

Again. 

At this point, neither possibility was a particularly good one. If he’d been somehow sent back in time and given a second chance, he had absolutely screwed it up. 

Fuck it, he might as well tell Dustin now at least. See what happened.

“Alright, uh, listen, I have to tell you something– and I’m not sure you’re going to believe me but I swear I’m telling you the truth.”

Dustin laughed, bright and incredulous as he checked the plugs on the amp one last time. “After everything we’ve been through the past few days, and the shit I’ve seen over the last three years, do you really think there’s anything I wouldn’t believe?”

Ok, kid had a point. 

Eddie took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

Here goes nothing. 

“I’ve been through this before, all of it, with you guys. For a while I thought I was in Hell, y’know? Doomed to relive Chrissy’s death over and over again, and between you and me I’m still not totally sure that isn’t the case, but then you guys found me in that damn boathouse just like before, and everything else has happened exactly like I remember, and I-” 

His speech was cut short by Dustin screeching, “Are you serious right now?! You have to be fucking kidding me! I can’t believe you… you’re in a time loop and you didn’t say anything?!”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open, eyebrows raised up nearly to the bandana he had tied around his head. “Wait, you believe me?! Just like that?!”

Dustin put his hands on his hips, in a gesture that was eerily reminiscent of a certain babysitter that Eddie definitely hadn't developed the habit of staring at at every given opportunity. 

Not the time!

“I wouldn’t say, just like that.” Dustin said, snapping his fingers. “If it was anyone outside of the party I would think they were crazy, but this is you we’re talking about. And like I said, after everything? This is not that hard to swallow. I mean, why would you make something like that–”

Dustin stopped abruptly, his entire demeanor changing on a dime as if he’d just discovered something awful. Belatedly, Eddie realized his mistake.

“Eddie, why would you think you were in Hell? Did you… “ The kid trailed off, and when he spoke next his voice was thick with unshed tears. “Do we lose? Did you…die?”

Eddie sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, I didn’t think– I guess there’s no way to tell you I might be repeating time without admitting it. Yeah, I… died. As far as Vecna, I have no idea. I was gone before Steve, Robin, and Nancy got back.”

Before he could respond, the Walkie in Dustin’s hand came to life, with Robin’s voice crackling through the small speaker. “She’s in, move on to phase 3. Over.”

“Guess that’s it. Time’s up.” Eddie muttered.

Dustin bit his lip as he looked at Eddie, eyes questioning and full of fear.

Eddie shook his head, silently answering the unasked question. He didn’t want Dustin to tell them, or try and stop this. It was too late. He refused to risk the kid, or somehow make things worse by changing the plan this late in the game. 

Dustin squeezed his eyes closed and pressed the button on the handset to reply, “Copy that, initiating phase three. Over.”

Eddie gave the kid his best reassuring smile as he pulled the guitar strap up over his head and with shaking hands began to play, knowing there was no time to waste. 

-

Bleeding out wasn’t any more fun the second time around. 

Eddie had given it his all, fighting tooth and nail against those flying leeches, but there was no use. There were hundreds of them, and only one of him. Just as he had the first time he took off on that bike to lead the bats away, he’d known the fate he was resigning himself to. The difference this time was, he actually had a sliver of hope. 

If the impossible happened once, maybe it could happen again. 

“Sorry, kid.” Eddie said, choking back blood as he watched Dustin limp towards him. “Didn’t notice the leg last time–“ He paused, panting, trying to catch his breath. Talking had already become difficult. “Shouldn’t have cut the rope, s’not like it stopped you.” 

He forced a smile, trying so hard not to let it show on his face just how much pain he was in. Not that there was much point, the kid had eyes. He could surely see the red ruin Eddie’s body had become.

Dustin sobbed openly and it broke Eddie’s heart. 

“God damnit, Eddie!” He shouted, shaking his head and pounding the ground with his fist. “Promise me if you get another shot at this that you’ll tell me. Tell me as soon as you possibly can about the time loop. Please! We have to come up with another plan.”

Eddie wanted nothing more than to be able to scoop the boy into his arms and comfort him, might have tried anyway but he couldn't move. “What if you don’t believe me?” He choked out.

“I'm adopted,” Dustin blurted out through his sniffles. “My mom only told me last year. No one else knows, not even Steve, but… I trust you, Eddie. I’d believe you without it, but if you need to, tell me that and I’ll believe you.”

Eddie nodded, or tried to, and felt Dustin’s hand slip into his. 

“I love you, man”

“I love you too”

Chapter 2

Thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Shoutout also to @theheadlessphilosopher @withacapitalp and @hitlikehammers for the help and encouragement to do this.

Tagging a few friends that expressed interest or I think might be interested? I am ALWAYS happy to tag or remove - just let me know!

Taglist: @hitlikehammers @pearynice @cranberrymoons @thoroughlycollected @blubblesandink @finntheehumaneater @brbsoulnomming @estrellami-1 @hellion-child @mentallyundone @manda-panda-monium @spicysix @kikidoesfanfic @dreamwatch

[sialater18]

Just watched Kingdom of the Planet of the apes in IMAX and wow, I LOVED ITTTTT

Highlights for me (spoilers below):

Story bits;

The intro with Caesar’s funeral, just straight to the real sobering stuff. Almost like the movie is saying “Caesar is gone. Now witness what life is like after him and what others do in his name”

The Eagles, they’re just dope animals

When Noa, Anaya, and Soona are out hunting for eggs they make note of not emptying the nest. It’s likely tradition at that point in their village but I like how even though the “bonding” is obviously a significant point in their lives, they don’t let it override what they know is right. Hence why Noa climbs a higher point for another nest.

The sequence of Noa and his dad trying to work together to fight off the Gorilla even though the Gorilla is way out of their league. They both tried hard but were beaten, not just physically but in terms of knowledge. Noa at some point climbs onto a support beam but it’s made of metal and the Gorilla electrocutes the beam he’s on which causes him to fall

The fact that Raka (and Caesar’s more devout followers) call humans they see “Nova” . Little Nova from War of the Planet of the Apes was not completely forgotten in a way :’)

Mae. Especially in the moment in the observatory where she looks through the telescope and gets emotional (which is the first sign that leads Noa to believing she’s more than what she seems). I know some people don’t/won’t like her but I can understand her. She’s in a rough place trying to do what she thinks is good. I believe in her last talk with Noa, on the topic of humans she said something like “It was ours (the planet I think) first!” just instinctually, and when Noa asks about the possibility of apes and humans living side by side again, she says I don’t know.

Proximus’s clan killed the entire group of humans she was with and she only barely managed to escape. And the only indication that he regrets what happened is because he didn’t realize they were “special” humans. He’s regretful of the choice because he was not aware of their possible use to him and his goals. So yeah Mae, doesn’t know, hence why she was at first holding the revolver in her hand when she last spoke to Noa. She initiated them talking, after everything they’ve been through she wanted to say a proper goodbye to him but still held the revolver in case something happened. I honestly want to see more of her

Proximus himself. Whoo I needed more if him, he was such a large joyful figure when we see him, getting his clan all hyped hope and being outwardly positive to them in face of a public failure. The fact that he likes being read Roman history, he probably learned of his namesake. I like his acknowledgment of the “proper” definition of evolution. He knows he won’t reach it since evolution takes a long time & he knows of his own mortality. So he instead wants to evolve in a different way with tools he believe is for him and his people.

He has two humans in his kingdom. He welcomed them both, but he’s not likely to trust them as far as he can throw them. He’s focused on the future apes evolving, hence why he keeps bringing apes into one place for his “Kingdom”. The future he pictures is not one of peace as long as humans are still around. So why not get the numbers of Apes up in the meantime? Even when one of his men is shot, he prioritizes not his dead clan member, but a new existence firearm weapons that can be of use to him

Noa’s first “shit” he learned from Mae and then repeating it later when they almost fall to their deaths and Mae just nodding in approval like “yeah that was the right time to use that word” loll

Mae using her first round with the tiny revolver she had against the ape who had a knife to Soona. I’m betting she planned the opposite of letting the apes know a more advanced form of weaponry exist right there in then in the silo. But her want to not see Soona come to harm (partially because of her) won out against whatever logic she was going with

The Flooding sequence in the silo I couldn’t bring my eyes away from. The one thing about this movie was the tension, maybe I’m just a wimp but I was exceedingly tense for the characters. Even when Proximus was simply speaking at the dinner table he had me tense

The fact that Noa & Mae didn’t have a happy little bow on their relationship by the end of it. I wanted them to be attached to each other or just trust each other but life doesn’t work like that often

The entire last 3 minutes or so the film was just particularly astounding to me, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it was the music (the score for the film is stellar) and the editing but something was just so right about it. Seeing the joy at humans contacting other people. The juxtaposition between Noa & Mae moving on to the next stages of their lives.

Technical stuff:

The sound design was magnificent

The cinematography was beautiful, really interesting shots throughout the film

The vfx was hella impressive

The music score was great and added a lot to the movie

All in all, all I’ve got left to say as Proximus would put it, WHAT A WONDERFUL DAY!!

[adore-laur]

GOLD RUSH: PART TWO

— part one

——

Harry doesn't want to let go. He hasn't been this close to you since what feels like a lifetime ago. After a grueling year of separation, considerate greeting hugs and instinctual touches that respect boundaries can't hold a candle to this moment. 

He can feel your heartbeat. The organ that once beat fiercely for him is now pounding against his own, its unsteady pulse fueling him with love. 

Who is he kidding? He has always loved you. Even when you screamed at him on the other line, poisonous words creeping into every crack of his heart, he still couldn't bear the thought of never having a place in your life again—even if that place wasn't beside you anymore. 

You told him you were proud of him a mere minute ago. It was a simple statement, but also a diminutive glance into your mind. What do you think about when you're pressed against him, aware of his hands on your back and the kisses left on your head? What feelings do they ignite? All Harry wants is to spread you open, lay your cards on the table—both the good and the bad ones—and just talk to you. He only sees you a handful of times a month, so the questions that have been piling in his throat beg to spill out. 

He fears his patchwork heart would also spill out onto the floor, and you'd see how miserably he's been coping. Mentally draining months were spent mending the broken relationship. Yet, the last and largest shard that couldn't piece it together again was the one that was simply the dying relationship itself. 

A year should be enough time to get over someone, but when that someone is his ex-wife and the mother of his beautiful child, he reminds himself that time never stops in moments of hurt. His personal life and career had to chug along even when the train constantly veered off the tracks. 

The regret he feels for not putting his family first kills him inside every time he opens your door to take his daughter for half a week. It's never enough time, and to see you for much less weighs heavily on his soul. The haunting supposition of being unable to notice every tiny detail about you one day is the nail in his coffin. He remembers opening the door a few months ago to find you with shorter hair. It shouldn't have affected him the way it did, and he couldn't help but think that you probably would've asked for his opinion on it if you were still together. 

He also hasn't kissed you or had sex with you in over a year. There have been no romantic dates or nights cuddled in bed, limbs tangled like the wilting vines of your love. He has not held your hand or watched you be a mother except for fleeting moments. He doesn't want those things with anyone else, so why can't you forgive him? Why can't you revive your love for him? 

Harry knows asking for a revival of love is irrational. 

"When do you need to be on stage?" Your voice reaches him, warm like melted honey and gentle like a balm that heals his wounds. 

"It doesn't matter," he says, fixing the twisted strap of your dress. "I can be a little late." 

You step away from the hug, and he feels an ache in his chest due to the loss of physical contact. "No, you can't." 

He tilts his head to the side and smirks. "Says who? It's my show." 

You narrow your eyes dubiously, but they slowly soften when they drift downward and take in his outfit. He'd be lying if he said he didn't plan a revealing outfit just because you were coming. 

"You look handsome."

Handsome. When was the last time you called him that? He can't remember, but the word sends a tidal wave of shivers rolling across his body. 

"Thank you. You look lovely, as always. How've you been?" 

"Fine. Work keeps me busy." Something nearby clatters to the floor, and you nod your head toward the culprit, who has a guilty expression. "Her too." 

"You're not overworking yourself, are you?" Harry asks. God knows he's seen you at your worst because of it. 

"Not as much as you. I still worry about you with all this traveling." 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets while moving closer to you. "Yeah? You worry about me?" 

You nod and look past his shoulder. He misses when you didn't shy under his gaze. "But the videos I see ease my worries. I know you're safe and having fun." 

He clears his throat and asks, "What videos?" 

There's a heavy lull of silence before you say, "Ones of you performing. They pop up on social media all the time. You're pretty famous if you didn't know." 

He ignores your teasing because he's grasping at straws, needing to know if you still keep up with him like he does with you. "And you watch them?" 

"Yeah," you say, nervously touching your earlobe. "It's hard not to with those outfits and how happy you look, you know?" You point to your daughter and add, "She loves to watch them too." 

Harry roughly swallows and curls his hands into fists. Your admission makes the ache in his heart grow tenfold. He never would have guessed. 

Someone suddenly knocks loudly on the dressing room door, making him flinch. "Harry, we need to start heading to the stage! Right now, preferably!" 

With a sigh, he heads over to the connected bathroom to grab his mic pack and in-ears, but not before crouching in front of his daughter. "Hey, Dad has to go," he tells her. "Gonna stay with Mama and watch me?" 

She nods and lifts her arms. He picks her up before setting her on his hip and swaying her. "Do I look okay?" he murmurs. 

"Mm-hmm," she hums, grabbing at the silk material of his vest. 

"Good." He kisses her forehead and then rests his own against hers. "I love you, all right? Dance your heart out for me." 

She impatiently squirms in his arms. He sets her down so she can play with the toys you brought, and then moves to quickly fix his hair in the mirror. He can already tell that tonight is going to be one of his favorite shows, and it has everything to do with the fact that his two favorite people will be in the audience.

After he puts his in-ears in, he shuts the bathroom light off and shakes his arms to get any remaining pre-show jitters out. He looks at you the entire time, watching you glance around his dressing room like it's an art gallery. All of his vulnerable belongings are out in the open and on display—his shirts you used to wear stuffed in his duffel bag, printed pictures of his daughter tucked into the mesh pocket of his suitcase, and a pack of diapers he had delivered earlier today in case you forgot or ran out. 

Most vulnerable, however, is his wedding ring sitting right next to the microphone that you're about to grab for him. It's the same ring he kisses every night before he goes on stage, never having gotten rid of it because it's one of the only things he has left of the love you once had for him. 

You freeze, your hand hovering over the microphone. The color drains from Harry’s face as he stands there, dreading your reaction. 

"Harry..." Your voice is weakened by a certain sadness that could break him if he let it. 

People gather in the room, trying to get him to start heading to the stage, but he's stuck in place. Paralyzed by fear. Everything is a blur around him, and all he can focus on is the shake of your hand when you pick up the damned ring that was cursed from the beginning. You set it in your open palm, then stare at him with a slightly parted mouth and confusion swimming in your eyes. 

Harry then makes a stupid fucking mistake. 

He rushes toward you, grasps your cheeks, and smears his lips over yours with pitiful desperation. His eyebrows pinch painfully, and he lets out a muted sob when you don't return the kiss. Your hands push against his chest, making him stumble back. 

There's no time to apologize since he's immediately being escorted out the door and down the hallway toward the stage. He wants to look back, but he knows the expression on your face will tell him all he needs to know. 

You don't love him anymore. 

——

[wellpresseddaisy]

The Things We'll Never Tell

For prompt 22, Power

Also for @sneverussape , because Draco is a godbrat who doesn't like to share.

“Cissa? Cissa, where are you?” Lucius raced through the family wing, leaving doors swinging on their hinges as he searched for his wife. 

“Draco wanted to show me how well he’s doing with his toy broom, Lucius. Why are you thumping about in that manner?” Narcissa stepped out of the day nursery, shutting the door carefully behind herself. “You’re frightening Draco with all that noise.”

“Life in Azkaban, Cissa. They were sentenced to life.” Their own narrow escape preyed on his mind.

Narcissa froze. “Life?” she asked faintly.

“I know you hoped…” he trailed off at her shaky laugh.

“She wasn’t my Bella any longer. Something changed in her, Lucius, something shattered. Perhaps it makes me a terrible person, but we’re free of them.” Her voice shook.

“Do you think they’re still bound to Draco?” He took her hand in his, both of them trembling.

“I don’t know that they ever were. They said the oath, but I don’t know if it ever took. Draco…well, we know Draco’s opinion on that.” Forcing herself to smile for her child, she opened the day nursery door again and pulled Lucius in behind her.

Draco zoomed about the floor on a toy broom. He stopped so suddenly when he saw them that he tumbled off. Lucius smothered a snicker when Draco smacked the floor and grumbled ‘Rude!’ at it.

“Yes darling, what a very rude floor it is.” Narcissa scooped him up and nuzzled his face. “What an inconvenience to Draco.”

“Invenience, Mama,” Draco parroted.

“Papa came home early just to ask our Draco a question!” Perhaps if she sounded like it was exciting?

“Ask Draco?”

“A very important question, little man.” Lucius reached for his son and Draco went to him happily.

How very different from his own toddlerhood, kept away from the adults with nannies and nursemaids until he left school.

“Now, does Draco know who his godparents are?” Lucius asked.

“Un’le Severus,” Draco answered decidedly.

“Can you feel a bond with him, darling, or anyone else?” Narcissa joined Lucius in cuddling their boy.

Draco frowned. They knew he vaguely understood magical bonds, as much as a small child could. He felt them and could name them, but beyond that…they’d have to wait until he was more verbal.

“Un’le Severus mine,” Draco said after a moment. “Not there.” He turned sad gray eyes up to his parents, patting his chest with one little hand.

“We can call Uncle Severus over, I’m sure, and make it so he is there,” Lucius offered.

“Mine,” Draco grizzled. “Want mine.”

A soft, silvery glow enveloped him. Lucius nearly dropped the child. Only Narcissa’s hold on both of them kept the toddler from tumbling to the floor.

“Cissa?” Lucius hissed.

“Hush!” she hissed back. “Wait.”

Lucius didn’t think waiting an appropriate plan of action when one’s toddler began to glow. Was this the moment when he regretted marrying this member of House Black, as his father said he would? But he trusted her, so he waited.

After a moment, Draco opened his eyes and smiled sunnily at his parents. “Un’le Severus mine!”

The glow faded slowly. Lucius and Narcissa stared at each other over Draco’s head.

“He’s your godfather now?” Narcissa asked, far more calmly than Lucius thought she ought to be. “Well done, darling boy.”

“Yes. Mine.” Draco wiggled. “Down, papa, please.”

Lucius set him down, saying “Such lovely manners, Draco” automatically.

“I think we can expect Hurricane Severus to come whirling through in a moment.” Narcissa spoke archly.

“Our son just…you saw…what…” Lucius trailed off and stared at his wife.

“It was his first accidental magic.” She sounded smug.

“Accidental? Narcissa, our son just bound his own godfather. That was no accident.” He tried to sound pleasant so Draco wouldn’t know his father was in a froth.

“Well, instinctual, then, if you’re going to be pedantic, dear.”

From far below, they heard a door slam (the front one, judging by the depth of the boom) and the sounds of a rapid and possibly panicked ascent of the stairs. Narcissa turned to the door.

“We can never, never disclose Draco’s first magic.”

Narcissa glanced at him. “Of course we’ll tell everyone he summoned a teddy or some such thing. A triviality. People like those. They find them cute.” She wrinkled her nose at the word.

The door slamming open to admit a harried-looking Severus interrupted Lucous’ reply.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Severus demanded.

“Bloody!” Draco chirped from his broomstick and zoomed gently around their legs.

“Nanny is going to be so cross with you, Severus.” Narcissa remarked mildly.

“What are you doing here?” Severus demanded again, yanking up his left sleeve. “Who did this?”

Lucius and Narcissa stared at the unblemished skin that once held a Dark Mark. Lucius grabbed for Narcissa’s hand.

“Well…” Lucius began, his voice choked.

“Mine.” Draco hovered on his broom ansD leaned into Severus’ legs. “My Un’le Severus.”

“Oh…oh dear.” Narcissa swallowed hard. “This may take some explaining.”

[liam-neesons-best-girl]

Losing Power {Bryan Mills (Taken) x Reader}

approx. 700 words

Summary: You and Bryan had planned a date-night-in but the weather alters your evening.

Warnings: F! reader, drabble, fluff

You finally arrived at the entrance to Bryan’s apartment building soaked in the relentless rain that had been coming down for a solid 12 hours. As he fumbled with the keys you had in one bag, half a dozen movies to watch from the rental shop and in the other, the ingredients to make the best lasagna Bryan has ever tasted.

However, mother nature had plans of her own that evening. Instinctually Bryan reached over to the light switch to illuminate the kitchen, but to no avail. It was pitch black darkness. He muttered a couple of swears and vigorously flipped the switch a couple of times to confirm what he wanted least. You have no power. 

“What’s wrong, Bry,” you asked, oblivious to the situation. You were so focused on planning your little ‘date night in’ that the delayed turning on of lights didn’t faze you. 

“Here, let me take those, Love,” he said gesturing to the bags at your side to place them on the counter. “It looks like we’ve lost power because of the storm,” he said slowly and a bit nervous of your reaction, since he knew you were looking forward to this date.

“Well we better get into some dry clothes and layer up then,” you said in all seriousness. You are a natural adaptor, Bryan thought. So ready for whatever the world throws at you. At the both of you, together.

He leads you down the dark hallway until you reach his bedroom. There you both strip down to your underwear and find some dry, comfortable clothes. There is the vague suggestion of light coming through the bedroom windows, allowing you to see the items in his drawers.

“Uhhh, I don’t really have anything in your size, sweetheart. Are these alright?” he asked, holding up a pair of sweatpants. You take them from him and have to roll the waistband a couple of times before you wouldn’t trip on the pant leg.

“Perfect,” you cheer. You also reach for a long sleeve thermal running shirt of his as well as wool socks. You give him a peck on the cheek as ‘payment’ for the clothes and set off to collect the necessary blankets to create a sleeping haven of warmth in the living room. 

As you arrange the blankets and pillows to create the most inviting ambience, out comes Bryan from the hall, only heard by his thunderous footsteps. You plug in the battery pack to the lamp and are greeted with a marvelous sight: Bryan in very loose gray sweatpants and a large cable knit sweater. This isn’t such a bad night after all.

He nestled into the cozy set up you prepared on the reclining chair and opened his arms wide for you. “C’mere, Love,” is all you needed to hear before practically jumping into his lap and settling in the crook of his neck.

You both giggle as he tightens his hold around your body, not letting an inch of skin be exposed to the cold air. As the giggle subside you hear Bryan let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry our plans got ruined," Bryan murmured, his voice laced with regret. "I know how much you were looking forward to tonight."

You tilted your head up to look into his eyes, seeing a sincere look on his face. “It’s okay,” you said while tracing shapes on his chest. “I’m just glad to be with you, no matter what it is we are doing.”

Bryan pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. 

After a beat of silence he let his intrusive thoughts win. "I hate the thought of you being alone in the dark like this," he admitted, his voice soft but resolute.

“Hush, hush, big bear,” you said, cuddling impossibly closer. “I'm not alone tonight. I have my handsome man to protect me," you said locking your hands around his neck.

Bryan felt proud in that moment, happy that his girl was happy. He leaned down to have your heads rest on each other.

By morning there would be power, he thought, and you could resume your date night just as it was planned.

[puffpasstea]

maybe it's a punishment for mouthing off? i feel like you haven't done that exactly yet?? but totally hear you, sometimes it's so hard to think of ideas!

A/N: Okay, here’s my attempt at doing this. I’ve been a bit hesitant to write smut lately, especially ever since that one anon said some not so nice things about dom!h lol, so I’d especially appreciate the feedback on this. Idk writing has been difficult lately ugh. Anyways? Here it is!

Warnings: smut implied, dom!h

——

“What, so, what’re you saying?” I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling at it slightly. “That I’m not allowed to have feelings? Hmm? Do you even know how dumb that sounds? You- you just want me to be a robot?” My words sounded a lot less clever than they did in my head, the second I spoke, my voice shaking.

Harry simply rolled his eyes, sitting at the end of the bed and taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“Don’t do that! Don’t, okay? It’s condescending!” I stood over him, closing the distance between us. With him sitting down, the heigh difference between us fueled my conviction.

“I haven’t done anything.” He said simply, smiling, but clearly unamused.

“You rolled your eyes at me. And not for the first time tonight either!” I exhaled, pausing for a moment. But I was on a roll and I was going to let him have it. “You did it in the restaurant earlier. Do you know what that makes you? A douchebag! You’re such an ass sometimes. Like- I’m sorry I’m not perfect like you and your perfect little friends who never get angry or anything. Sorry I have feelings- sorry I’m human!”

Harry made a chuckling noise and rolled his eyes again, shaking his head at me.

“Oh my god! See? You’re doing it again! Three! That’s three times! Fuck you, Harry! Fuck you, okay?!!” I ran into the in-room bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me, staring back at it with burning rage in anticipation of Harry following me. To my disappointment though, he didn’t come after me. In fact, I don’t think he’s moved from his seat on the bed. Behind the door, the room was completely silent.

As my anger set in and my breathing deepened, I felt my hands shake. I hated this. I hated being angry with Harry, but even worse, I hated feeling guilty for being angry with him. His ability to keep his calm during arguments, in the face of my emotional outbursts always made me feel inferior. Like, even when I had every right to be angry, I was somehow wrong for my feelings. Like it was somehow hard for him to understand why I felt the way that I did. 

I leaned against the glass shower box as the trembling traveled down to my legs, tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. The silence was defeating. The words I’d yelled out moments ago echoing in my ears and instantly filling me with regret. I knew I was wrong. Maybe not for what I’d said, but for how I’d said it. Harry and I had rules for how we argued. We weren’t supposed to say things in anger that we would later regret. We were supposed to be on the same team. No pointing fingers, no assigning blame. We’re supposed to talk things out. What just took place wasn’t talking. I knew we set those ground rules in place for me. So I’d feel safe. But, even with the knowledge that he always wanted me to feel safe around him, something need within me- some kind of panic- always compelled me to attack. To hurt him before he got the chance to hurt me. Not that he’s ever given me a reason to believe that he would. I just wasn’t used to being treated with respect. A realization that made me feel pathetic. Harry deserved better. He deserved someone less damaged, someone who knew how to act like an adult instinctually, someone who didn’t need to be taught how to argue in a relationship. 

The sound of the door handle clicked open. Harry stood in the doorway, one hand on his hip, his eyes staring straight at me, completely silent. His face was blank, but the rising and falling of his chest gave away that he was angry. 

My hands folded reflexively in an attempt to hide myself away from his eyes. I couldn’t stand the quiet. The longer he went without saying a word, the more that my panic bubbled again. “What- have you come to roll your eyes at me some more?!” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Fuck. Why’d I do that? Well, there was no taking it back now. 

His lips twitched for a moment, like he might smile. He walked right up to me and rested his palm on the glass wall behind me. Now it was his turn to tower over me and make me feel small. I tried to stare back at him but felt too embarrassed to look him in the eye. 

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” He finally spoke. “You’re too hot and puffy with anger.” 

I felt him slide the shower door open behind me causing me to stumble backwards and step into the shower. His hand caught me by the shoulder before I fell. 

“You need to snap out of it. Cool down.”

Before I could process what he meant, the sound of water rushing to the shower head startled me, and just as fast, a torrent of ice cold water came crashing down on me. 

The freezing temperature traveled from the top of my head to my toes. I tried to scream but the cold simply sucked the air right out of my lungs, all I could do was gasp in shock and blink the water out of my eyes rapidly. 

“Wha- fu-why?!!”

“That’s enough out of you.”

“Harry, I’m wet!”

I moved to try and get out, but Harry’s hands on my shoulders fixed me in place. “Not yet.”

“I- it’s co-“

“I said that’s enough talking.”

Harry looked down at the watch on his wrist, as if timing me. When he looked back up, I was in tears. I’d hoped that with the water running above me, he wouldn’t be able to tell, but my loud sniffling gave me away. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Deep Breath.” His voice surprisingly soft. “Just breathe, okay?” 

I closed my eyes, focusing on my breath and counting in my head. 

After what felt like an eternity, Harry turned the water off. The sound of the water dripping down my body and onto the tiles filled the bathroom. I swallowed harshly, shivering in place. I dared not moved without his say so. 

 He turned around, and, for a second, I thought he was going to just leave me here. But he came back a moment later with a towel. 

“C’mon, now. Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

He wrapped the toilet around me and helped me out of the shower, patting down my face and hands. “Better?”

I shook my head ever so slightly, still speechless. 

“Good.”

His hands found the waistband of my shorts, and pulled the drenched fabric down my body, tossing it to the side. He repeated the same motions with my top. I was naked in front of him. 

He brushed the wet hair out of my eyes with the back of his hand, running his finger down my cheek. “You’re freezing.” A small smile on his lips. He leaned in to kiss my shivering lips. His mouth was soft and warm against mine, making me lean into the kiss for warmth. 

“We’ll get you warmed up. Don’t worry.”

He fixed the towel around my body and carried me off to the bed. 

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

3, 9, 10, and 49 for Grima?

Two Grima anons!! Because you all are amazing and know me and the way to my heart

3. Obscure headcanon

Honestly, I feel like I've talked enough about Grima that all my headcanons have been exhausted in the "Grima Thoughts" tag and the "Grima Wormtongue" tag more broadly on my tumblr.

I suppose one that I've never voice too much, and haven't played with (YET. GET READY.**) is that I headcanon him as distinctly Not Cis but he's very convoluted and vague about what that means. The whole seidr aspect I read onto him adds different layers to how you can interpret that, especially given some views that seidr-working might have been viewed as an alternative gender, or an additional aspect to gender, or something in that ballpark of being different from man and woman.

I just enjoy that, aside from Eowyn, he is one of the characters you can make the strongest argument for being Outside the Gender Norms of Their Respective Society. This makes me very pleased and happy.

Grima just wants to be queen. Let him be one!!

--

**this only applies to people reading What Makes a King

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character

For the movies it was the tear-drop scene in TTT after Saruman sends the uruk-hai off to Helms Deep. So much regret and realization of the scope of the impact of his actions captured in a single emotional moment. And it's fleeting! But so well done. No words are needed. Just dawning horror and that stomach-dropping-out-from-your-body feeling of What The Fuck Have I Done - This Was Not How It Was Supposed To Go.

In the books it's 100% when Grima is sassing back at Treebeard. He is Peak Drowned Rat and a GIANT TREE is telling him: You need to go to Orthanc. It's voer there.

And Grima. Who has been on a horse for two days straight, riding through the night, and probbaly hasn't eaten in 48h, and is now stinking soaking wet becuase Treebeard dropped him in the muck and mire of the waters around Orthanc. That man. That man looks at the Giant Tree, the stuff of childhood legends in Rohan, and his instinctual reaction is to be the sassiest most lie-filled bitch on the planet.

What the fuck Grima.

Grima: Well, since you don't think I was here on behalf of Theoden which was My Quickly Thought Up Plan Because I DID NOT Expect This. I will now just be super sassy at you as my fall back. Seems reasonable.

Tree Beard: ????

Love that deranged bastard so much.

Grima: [sees a being way, way more powerful than him. Gandalf, Treebeard, whatever] What if I just said some sick burns and was a petty bitch for fifteen minutes??

Eomer: . .... ..,, , as a treat?

Grima: As a treat!!

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)

I loved his seduction scene in the film. That whole speech is masterfully rendered by Brad Dourif and Miranda Otto is also fantastic in that scene. Seeing her tempted, truly tempted, then pulling back like: nope, nope, nope, I can't. Grima's face when she leaves. Absolutely phenomenal.

I also love the "These Men Don't Know What Personal Space Is" scene with Eomer.

Nothing to see here. Move along everyone.

In the book, the best scene is everything in the Scouring of Shire. The wanting to take Frodo's offer of a helping hand. The desperation for that salvation from himself and the situation he is in - yet, he is so trapped in whatever it is he feels for Saruman. That quasi-enslaved state by the time we get to the end of ROTK. It's so fucked up and such a fantastic representation of the push/pull of abusive situations. I want out/I can't leave/I can see a future/I can't see a future. So well done.

(And I think Saruman-Grima dynamic is something Tolkien didn't know he had - at least in terms of the potential that is in it.)

While I have gone on before about Grima's death being a let-down in terms of thematic satisfaction, I do love, love, love that he gets to kill Saruman. He gets to put the knife in Saruman's back. That is so fantastic as a full circle of all the traitors betraying each other. ALSO, of course, Grima gets to kill the man who has spent the last eleven months torturing him for shits and giggles. We love to see it.

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

I think Grima is very afraid to look at a lot of things about himself. He cannot look into the mirror straight-on. All truths about himself have to be captured in peripheral vision - which is to say, only ever faintly brushed against.

I don't know what the darkest secret is that he can't admit to himself. I suspect, for him, it's several. He's done so much harm in his life, and he's been also denied so much too, and wants so much, and has broken so much - it's all a tangled mess.

I think for Grima, what drives a lot of his actions post-Helm's Deep is a two-fold sunk-cost fallacy (that's the thing he can't admit to himself - it's not all lost. He can and should walk away. "If it's shit, hit the bricks" was not something he ever learned) and the inability to be able to see a life outside of Saruman. A path away from Orthanc. (Granted, no one was being helpful in that regard until Frodo. Literally no one. Not in any meaningful capacity.)

24. Most annoying habit

Maybe stop stealing things from people?

Probably, though, the sycophancy. The whole "oh my lord" this and "a wise/brilliant thing you said my lord" that. Ugh. Miss me with the verbal dick-sucking there, Grima.

I get why he does it. I 100% understand. I still find it grating. This is something, I will say, that turns up in fanfics more than canon. I've written it, myself, because it works for his character! It's what he would do! It makes sense post-Saruman that he would be like this! If he wasn't it would be weird! But my god Grima, get a spine and a sense of self-worth!

(Grima: shall not.)

For proper canon things, we don't really see enough of him to have specific habits to pick on. Because frankly, I find his thieving delightful and funny, if not a little whimsical. In fact, he should do more. Steal more things! Steal more things!

(Grima: Shall!!! Right now!!)

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh

Scathing commentary on people he hates. This man is a gossip and a first-class professional Bitcher. He can bitch with the best of them. Hearing dirty things about people makes him so happy.

Also, I think he likes word play and clever jokes. Riddling games and the like, especially ones that are terribly, terribly clever are near-guaranteed to make him smile.

I don't know that he laughs all that much. I think he does that snort/exhale as a form of "laughing" but I don't think he does full on laughing. Save very rarely, and I think it's a shockingly warm sound for someone who is a walking glacier in many respects.

49. Favorite toy as a child

Oh gods. This is hands down the toughest question. If only becuase I have only ever envisioned Grima's childhood as fairly toyless. But he would have had toys - even in the bleakest versions he would have had toys.

I can see little Grima, as a four/five/six year old, being partial to a small, carved cow. He likes the gentle eyes and is familiar with cattle and they smell like home. I can see him also having a small wagon as a boy and he would go out to a small copse and pretend to be a runaway who has joined up with a band of robbers or highway men. In the wagon he'd pack food and water and such, also his bow and a small knife.

Practicing a quick get-away since he was eight.

----

Thank you both so much! <3 <3 <3 This got long but 0 regrets. Grima deserves it.

[renmedys]

NAMELESS SOLDIERS

erwin smith is a man of many regrets. levi ackerman is a man of none, or so he says. (or: in one last ditch effort, erwin remembers the many moments he and levi spoke of regrets.)

pairing: erwin smith/levi ackerman warnings: aot spoilers, mentions of death words: 3.2k

     “DO you ever regret coming to the surface?” Erwin asked quietly, eyes mindlessly skimming over lines and lines of fine print. The newspaper rustled with each turning page, article after article written about the same thing—the foolishness of the survey corps, the countless lives that were sacrificed in vain, and the common sentiment of overall absurdity of venturing outside the walls.

“Is that a joke?” his subordinate replied with a scoff. “There isn’t time for regrets in the business we’re in, Erwin. You know that.”

Levi sat across from him in the horse-drawn carriage on their way to the capital. Eren Jaeger’s trial demanded all high-ranking officers in court, and silence now took up all the space between them as the carriage rattled along. Levi Ackerman was always a cold, inexpressive person, so asking him about things like regrets and morals hardly ever yielded profit. Yet Erwin still liked to ask him, and frequently, too. Perhaps it was because Levi is always so comparatively silent to Erwin’s perpetually chattering mouth. So many topics of discussion in this world, Erwin thought, but to Levi, if they had no relation to their jobs in the Scout Regiment (and many of them didn’t), he didn’t care for it. That’s more likely the reason Erwin likes to prod him with questions—his own amusement. Sometimes he likes to guess in his head what Levi will say to shut his questions down.

“I mean it,” Erwin said, eyes still glued to the papers. “Don’t you have any regrets, Levi?”

“No.”

Erwin looked up for a brief moment to see Levi gazing out the window through a gap in the curtains. His eyes were cloudy, glossed over in thought. That was how Erwin knew that Levi Ackerman was lying. It’s impossible not to have regrets in their line of work, Erwin thought, especially in a job riddled with death.

And Ackerman’s collection of the Survey Corp insignias that once belonged to his fallen comrades only confirmed his suspicions. (Unbeknownst to Levi, Erwin has seen the collection many times.)

“Well,” Erwin sighed, “I do.”

—

     EREN Jaeger was only fifteen when he was told that in him was a power his people couldn’t trust, subjected to scrutinizing and fearful gazes, chained in the middle of a room for witnesses to gawk at. A pitiful display, Erwin thought, to be muzzled like a dog and belittled like a child.

“I feel bad for him,” Erwin whispered, though he didn’t let it show on his face.

“Is that a joke?” Levi asked again, face contorted into what seemed to be disgust. “He might be a titan, for all we know.”

“You saw his eyes, Levi. Do they look like the eyes of a titan?”

“Maybe a cannibalistic one.”

Erwin stifled a laugh. Then, “He’s just a kid.”

Levi scoffed once more. “We were just kids,” he said. The conversation ended there, with the heavy truth hanging above their heads.

The trial proceeded as planned. Eren pleaded his case, stood his ground with protests and declarations until Levi went down there and kicked him across the face hard enough that a tooth fell out. The cowards in the MP section all cringed, wincing with second-hand pain and the instinctual fear when faced with violence, but those in the Survey Corps watched without batting an eye. Erwin noticed that the girl brought in as a witness had to look away, the blood boy beside her having a hand on her shoulder.

Afterwards, he remembered seeing her eyes shift into hatred whenever she saw Levi. He had never seen someone so angry on someone else’s behalf.

—

         LIBRARY hours went from eight in the morning to nine in the evening. Erwin had gone to read about coal mines and the resources that were lost by the breaching of Wall Maria. He checked out a few books, and headed back to his office. There, Levi Ackerman awaited him.

“There you are,” he said, sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed. “Hange told me you were at the library.”

Erwin nodded. “Did you need something?”

Levi opened his mouth to speak, but he paused before any sound escaped. He pressed his lips back together, shaking his head. “On second thought,” he said, “never mind. I have to get back.”

Erwin watched in subtle confusion as Levi left. A mystery, that man, and Erwin was sure that he’d never fully understand him. He wanted to, though—he wondered what it felt like to be the strongest soldier, to shoulder the hopes of all humanity, both those who did not acknowledge them and those who died alongside them.

Could a man like him really not have any regrets, Erwin wondered.

—

    ERWIN had often been asked the question, “was it worth it?” in regards to the lives lost after each mission. The first mission executed with the addition of Eren Jaeger to the ranks had ended in failure, and again he was faced with these dreadful words. Erwin remembered little of the ride back, but he remembered hearing a man said to be Petra Ral’s father talking nervously, voice shaking and rambling away to Levi. There had been nothing to do but hold one’s head high and continue walking, no matter how hard it may have been. And that was exactly what they did, even if met with the scorn of the public.

To hang your head in shame meant to admit defeat, and that was the one thing the Survey Corps did not do.

Erwin typically had hopeful enough of a constitution to not be bogged down by the weight of what was lost. But today, as he took a seat in his office, clothes still stained with dried blood, he slammed a fist on his desk. Burying his face in his hands, he yelled profanity, wondering for the first time he became commander if it was truly worth it.

Levi got injured, Eren almost kidnapped, and now the Military Police were demanding custody of the boy. Levi’s entire squad died—some of the best soldiers the Survey Corps ever had. Without them, their forces had diminished only slightly in number but significantly in experience and strength. In what world was that mission ever worth it?

“You can’t fall apart.”

A voice from the doorway interrupted him.

“If you fall apart,” he continued, “it’s the end for the Survey Corps.”

The commander sighed. “You’re right.”

He didn’t need to look up to see who it was. Albeit limping, Levi Ackerman would be standing the way he always did, confident in stature with a frown on his face, eyes cold—but for once, Erwin was wrong. Levi was leaning against the doorframe, eyes downcast, face grim.

“You alright, Levi?” Erwin found himself asking before he could stop himself. He braced himself for a snappy remark.

“I just lost my whole squad,” Levi said, and his voice was softer than Erwin thought it’d be. “For a stupid fucking brat. What do you think?”

Erwin smiled sadly. “They’re all dead, huh,” he murmured. “We’ll have to notify their families, and hold a service for each of them. I wish the mission had—”

“No,” Levi interrupted. “No looking back, Erwin. I don’t have time for regrets.”

Leave it to Levi to set Erwin’s priorities straight. 

“Sorry. You’re right.”

—

    IT was the night before the Shiganshina retake mission, and it was then that Levi had the sole conversation with Erwin where he did all the talking. Typically, the captain and his chatterbox personality dominated what was said. But tonight, Levi had sat down with him in his office, a solemn look on his already-solemn looking face, telling Erwin that whatever he was going to say wasn’t something he wanted to hear.

No commander wishes his people to die. Levi knew that. After all, what kind of fool willingly burdens oneself with more blood on his hands?

Even so, Levi had his hands clasped, fingers clawing at his knuckles as he brooded in silence. He was leaned over, weight on his elbows as they dug into his thighs. Head hung, eyes dark.

“Erwin,” he said, and his voice shook.

“Can’t sleep?” Erwin asked, setting aside a stack of paperwork. “That’s unlike you.”

Another scoff, as Levi mumbled a small “yeah.”

“Something on your mind?”

“I have a bad feeling about tomorrow,” Levi said, glancing at his superior. “Gut feeling. One of us is going to die.”

Erwin’s stomach dropped. Not long ago, he had narrowly escaped death himself, having lost only an arm. “Then I suppose that it will be me,” he said, trying a smile to lighten the mood. “Karma, I’d say,” he joked.

“Erwin.”

Erwin never wanted to hear his name come out of Levi’s mouth the way it did. Never out of helplessness, never out of fear, never out of defeat. And yet, in a voice unfit for Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, Levi had said his name. Weakly, softly, almost pleading, if he dared ot say.

“If it comes to it,” Levi began. Erwin wanted him to stop. “And if you order it—” Erwin wanted to stop listening. “—I’ll die quietly.”

“Levi.” Erwin said his name quietly, wanting to command him to stop. He can’t do this without him.

“Don’t be afraid to send me to my death, Erwin,” Levi said, and Erwin could tell from the look in his eyes that he was serious. “That’s what soldiers are for.”

—

    THE morning of the mission, Erwin found himself without rest. He’d slept as best he could after Levi left, though admittedly it was nothing more than a few hours. The horses were being assembled, the troops gearing up, and Erwin sat on a cargo box outside the stables, his head aching after the night before.

Levi approached him, sliding a blade into its slot. Adjusting his cloak, he stood before Erwin, looking down at him. “Don’t forget what I said,” he said. “I meant it.”

“Even so,” Erwin protested, “I can’t go sending our best soldier to his death just like that, can I?”

His joking tone didn’t seem to land. “Humanity needs you more than me,” Levi said. “Do it if it comes to it.”

“Would you sacrifice yourself? Without my orders?”

“Huh?” Levi scowled. “Who would do that, dumbass?”

“I see.” Erwin laughed. “Only on my orders, huh.”

“Don’t think about it too much,” his subordinate said, heeding the call of one of his men and beginning to walk away. You don’t have time for regrets, Erwin. You’re the one who’s going to save humanity.”

As he turned his back, the wings of freedom that symbolized everything the Scout Regiment stood for fluttered upon his cloak. Erwin couldn’t help but laugh. What kind of commander was he if his underling was more prepared for what was to come than him?

—

    THE basement. The basement. The basement.

Everything was so close. The truth. His dreams. His father. The basement. Finally, Erwin would learn whether he was right or not. Whether his father died because he knew too much or because the military simply didn’t like curious fools. Erwin’s meaning in life was going to be fulfilled. He’d finally know. That itch he could read would finally be scratched, and he’d be able to die in peace.

Maybe he’d finally have time to charm a woman and take her to bed. Or read those books he’d been buying but ended up collecting dust. Or go to sleep at a decent time. Or—

“Oi, Erwin! What are we going to do?!”

Man, what an idiot, Erwin thought, thinking about the future at a time like this. Thinking about all the things he wouldn’t get to do that he wanted to, all the people he made promises with that he could no longer keep, all on the battlefield while titans were rampaging.

Levi’s face had an expression Erwin’s seen many times. Desperation, some may call it, but on Levi’s face Erwin would say it was more out of stubbornness and the refusal of death than desperation. He remembered what Levi had said the night before. One of us is going to die. Don’t be afraid to send me to my death.

Oh, man. And the basement was right there. 

“Erwin… If you tell me there’s no way left for us to fight back,” Levi said, “I’ll start preparing for defeat. Eren’s sprawled out there, right? Go wake him up. You and some others get on him and run. Then we’ll at least have a few survivors.”

It was true. A hopeless situation was unfolding right before their eyes, with the Colossal and Armored Titans rampaging and making Eren’s titan pale laughably in comparison. The boy had been thrown to the top of Wall Maria, rocks were falling like rain from outside the town, and the puny humans of the Survey Corps were going to die. Not to mention Hange had bit the dust, too.

“The recruits and survivors from Hange’s squad can scatter on horses all at once and try to head home,” Levi continued. “With them acting as bait, you and the others on Eren will be able to escape.”

“And what are you going to do, Levi?” Erwin asked. 

“I’ll deal with that beast. I’ll lead him away.”

“No,” Erwin said immediately. “You can’t even get close to him.”

“Isn’t that the situation we’re in? It’s a major defeat. Honestly,” Levi said, looking down at his hand, “I’m not expecting anyone to make it home alive at this point.”

“True,” Erwin replied, eyes downcast, “if we didn’t have any way of fighting back.”

It took a moment for Levi to realize what Erwin was suggesting. “Do you have one?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you put that ugly mouth of yours to work earlier and say something?”

Another round of rocks were flung. All the bits and pieces collided with the roofs of the empty homes, mini explosions erupting across the district. Smoke bellowed, filling the air with dust and debris. The scenery was being destroyed. The situation was only worsening.

“If this plan works, you may be able to defeat that beast,” Erwin said. “But only if we sacrifice the lives of all the recruits here, as well as mine. But I doubt these young-recruits would charge forward unless I was leading the way. I’d have to be the very first to die.”

Fuck.

“Without ever learning… what was in that basement.”

The basement. That stupid, damned, fucking basement.

“I just,” Erwin sighed, slumping against a wall. “I just want to go to that basement.”

What did Erwin live for all this time? To lead humanity beyond the walls? To save humanity and become a hero? Fuck no. Erwin Smith was a selfish bastard who cared for nothing but checking his answers, driven by a desire to know the truth about the dream he shared with his father. And those answers—the answers to every question he’s ever had, the questions that kept him up at night, the unanswered questions that haunted his father’s death—they were in that basement.

“But Levi… can you see them? Our comrades? They’re watching to see what they died for. Is it all nothing more than… my own childish delusion?”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed as he knelt down before his commander. “You’ve fought a good fight. We’ve only come this far thanks to you. I’m making the choice,” he said, nearly choking on his words. They were gnarled in his throat, but he managed to speak without a semblance of hesitation. “Give up on your dreams and die for us.”

Erwin’s eyes widened slightly.

“Lead the recruits straight into hell,” Levi continued, “and I’ll take down the Beast Titan.”

Erwin could only smile. Sadly. 

—

    THEIR last conversation was one that Erwin hoped he could keep with him even after dying.

“I tried to live without regrets,” Erwin muttered, readying himself for what would have to be the most convincing speech of his life. “I really did.”

“Any yet…?” Levi asked, prodding him on. It was the first time he ever encouraged Erwin to speak.

“I still have them. I still have so many of them, Levi.”

Levi held his silence, gazing down at the grass beneath their feet. It continued to sway in the wind, green and prosperous despite the patches next to it being trampled flat, despite the world around it crumbling to pieces. Humans are a lot like grass, Erwin thought. 

“But I think my biggest one,” he sighed, “would be not being able to see what’s in that basement.”

Levi scoffed. It was something he often did when Erwin said stupid things. It was a sound Erwin was beginning to enjoy hearing. “Out of everything, it’s not the hundreds of lives you’ve sacrificed to make it here?”

The commander laughed. “I suppose not. That’s cruel of me, isn’t it.” 

“Yeah. It is.”

“Sorry,” Erwin said, standing up. “We have no time for regrets, right?”

He seemed taken aback by his words. A brief silence. Then, “Yeah,” Levi agreed, “We have no time for regrets.”

There was a rock the size of a building flying at Erwin. In the next second—no, half of a second—he’d be dead. Yet in that second was thirty something years of his life, from his father to his grave, from the day he became commander to the day he’d die.

There’s became I, then I became you, and finally, you became we. 

We have no time for regrets, right?

Erwin laughed. Not dying with a smile on his face wasn’t something he wanted to add to his list of regrets, after all.

Don’t be afraid to send me to my death. One of us is going to die.

It turned out to be him, just like he suspected. At least he was right about something. And in the end, it was Levi who sent him to his death.  Another thing to laugh about over drinks if he could just make it home—

Erwin fell off his horse before he realized it. There was a hole in his side. There was no way he was going home alive, now. He screamed. He yelled at the troops to march forward, but he couldn’t tell if they heard him or not. Everything was mute, the world around him deafened and soundless. His eyes closed.

No time for regrets? At least on my deathbed, let me dwell on them a bit, Levi.

People say that when you’re about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. They say that you’ll arrive at answers to questions you’ve been asking all your life, you’ll make life changing realizations, and that your past mistakes and regrets will tear you apart until you’re gone from this world for good. They say that there’s a strange sense of peace when it comes to dying.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since his eyes closed. But for Erwin Smith, as his consciousness was fading once and for all, all three came in the form of one answer. His biggest regret wasn’t that he wouldn’t get to see what was in the basement.

It was that he wouldn’t get to see the rest of the world with Levi Ackerman by his side.

[michaelmilligan]

Midam Appreciation Week Day Two: Bossa Nova

“Adam... Mulligan?” Michael asked, sounding bored.

“Milligan, Sir,” Zachariah corrected him, and his wings shifted uneasily when some of the archangel's eyes moved towards him and narrowed.

It was never good to be noticed in this line of work. Oh, sure, Zachariah had been employee of the month since The Big Bossman had bothered to think him up, but contrary to common belief, you didn't actually need to be noticed to be declared the best.

At least you didn't need to be noticed by the no. 1 head honcho in the place. Usually, it served Zachariah well that Raphael deemed his work 'adequate' and had no complaints.

But St. Michael the archangel, Heaven's mightiest general, didn't do 'adequate'. If you wanted to work directly with him, you had to be like Raphael. Efficient. Effective.

Perfect.

Zachariah hadn't wanted to work with him, but he hadn't been given a choice. So now here he was, reporting on his latest failure in the quest of getting Dean Winchester to say yes, and trying to cover it up by suggesting a new plan.

“He's the Winchester's brother. We only found out recently, after the Righteous Man was retrieved from Hell,” Zachariah explained, Michael's gaze burning like Holy Fire through his being.

“A third brother,” Michael summarised, still not sounding entirely interested. “What use is he to us?”

“Well, you see,” Zachariah said, giving something like a smile – perhaps he had been on Earth for too long, since angels didn't smile, considering they had no mouths. “Dean is a big brother first and a human second. If we present him with his little brother in danger, he will cave to our demands.”

“Hm,” Michael said.

“It's fool-proof,” Zachariah reassured him.

“Just like your last plan, and the one before that.”

“Ah. You see, it is all a game of patience, if we only try long enough, eventually-”

“My patience ends here,” Michael bellowed, and pulled himself to his full height, his archangelic True Form towering over Zachariah. “I do not like this new plan. Try something else.”

“Of course, Sir.” Zachariah righted himself out of his instinctual cowering, and turned to leave.

“And Zachariah?” Michael said, making him stop in his tracks and peer back at him. “Don't disappoint me again.”

When the humans around Zachariah had their eyes burned out and their brains fried, he stood up.

“Go ahead! Get it over with. I'm ready,” he yelled, expecting the divine wrath of Heaven to rain down on him every moment.

The True Voice which rang across the bar was made of molten steel.

ZACHARIAH. THERE IS NO TIME FOR HUMAN INDULGENCES. YOU HAVE WORK TO DO.

“Wait,” Zachariah said. “What?”

DON'T YOU WANT TO RETURN TO YOUR POST? WE HAVE CONSIDERED YOUR LAST PROPOSAL AND HAVE DECIDED TO IMPLEMENT IT, THOUGH WITH SOME... TWEAKS, Michael's voice rang, shattering more and more of the bottles on the shelves.

“Yes! Anything, of course, just put me back in, you won't regret it!”

WE WILL SEE ABOUT THAT. THIS TIME, IT IS REALLY YOUR LAST CHANCE.

“Thank you. Thank you!”

YES, YES. I AM VERY MERCIFUL, AS OUR FATHER WAS MERCIFUL WHEN HE ABSOLVED HUMANITY OF ITS SINS. NOW. RAPHAEL- WE DECIDED TO GIVE THE BOY SOME MOTIVATION.

“The boy, Sir?” Weren't they already giving Dean enough motivation by threatening his brother?

ADAM MULLIGAN.

“Milligan, Sir.”

YES. HIM.

The boy was motivated, alright.

A good Midwestern Christian boy, Zachariah judged from the cheerful, gullible expression on Adam's face as he talked about becoming Michael's vessel. Zachariah enjoyed making his face fall, though the resulting puppy eyes were a little much in his opinion.

It felt even better when the plan worked, Dean Winchester appearing to swoop in and save his brother-in-distress.

Yes, the plan worked – right up until Dean stabbed an angel blade through Zachariah's chest.

The plan had worked, Michael thought as he rushed down to Earth. Finally! Dean was to be his vessel.

DEAN WINCHESTER, he intoned as he descended on the room, wings spread imposingly. AS IT WAS PROPHESIED, SO IT WILL BE. YOU ARE FULFULLING YOUR DESTINY AND YOUR DUTY BY BECOMING MY VESSEL.

“Um,” the only human in the room made.

Michael peered down at him more closely.

YOU ARE NOT DEAN WINCHESTER, he said.

“No.”

YOU ARE ADAM... Michael spotted the corpse which Zachariah had left behind, wings burned into the ground around him. … MILLIGAN?

“Yeah, that's me,” Adam said, and turned his startled and awed expression into a weak smile. “And I'm guessing you're Michael, the archangel?”

YES.

“Right.”

They regarded each other for a long moment, the boy apprehensively and Michael thoughtfully.

DEAN WOULDN'T HAPPEN TO BE AROUND HERE SOMEWHERE?

“No, sorry, he just left before you came.”

AH.

“Yeah.” Adam shifted on his feet. “Um, so what are you gonna do now? I mean, about me, but also... about Dean?”

THAT IS NOT YOUR CONCERN.

“So you don't have a plan,” Adam said, raising an eyebrow.

THAT IS NOT WHAT I SAID.

“Sure, but it was implied.”

IT WAS CERTAINLY NOT.

Adam shifted on his feet again, and licked his lips before looking back up at Michael. With a start, Michael realised that he was looking upon his True Form without having his eyes burned out or his mind turned to mush.

“You guys have already tried pretty much everything to get Dean, anyway, right? I mean, if you had to resort to reviving me...” Adam shrugged. “That sounds pretty damn desperate.”

HEAVEN IS NOT DESPERATE, Michael corrected him. HEAVEN FOLLOWS GOD'S PLAN, WHICH IS OF COURSE ALWAYS THE RIGHT ONE. THIS IS MERELY A DELAY.

“U-huh,” Adam made. “And how many of those delays have there been?”

Michael narrowed his eyes at the human, but he barely flinched. Curious. That always worked with the lesser angels.

I DO NOT NEED TO CONCERN MYSELF WITH YOU, Michael said.

“Hey- wait!”

Against his better judgement, Michael waited.

There were more plans to come up with. An apocalypse to prepare. But at that moment, Michael had no great desire to return to the metaphorical drawing board.

Dean Winchester had once again thwarted his plans, and Michael was getting tired of it.

“Is it really going to happen? The apocalypse?” Adam asked, sounding concerned.

OF COURSE. MY BROTHER WILL ACQUIRE SAM WINCHESTER AS A VESSEL – OF THAT I HAVE NO DOUBT. Lucifer had always been the more convincing, more charming one. Where Michael was brute force, Lucifer was sly seduction. IF HE WALKS EARTH IN HIS TRUE VESSEL, HE WILL WREAK HAVOC. HE HAS TO BE STOPPED.

“Can't you take a different vessel? Use... Larry from Radio Shack, or something?”

NO. MY VESSEL HAS TO BE OF THE WINCHESTER BLOODLINE. ONLY THE ELDEST SON, WHO HAS STUDIOUSLY OBEYED HIS PARENT'S WORD, CAN BE MY TRUE VESSEL.

This time, it was Adam who narrowed his eyes at him.

“I'm my mom's oldest son,” he said. “And I always did what she said.”

Michael hesitated. WHAT?

“I'm just saying, Dean's not gonna say yes any time soon, and you still need a vessel, right? Now I can't say I'm very happy to say this, since your goon tricked and tortured me and all that, but like, I get it. This is the apocalypse we're talking about. The literal end of the world. Desperate times, desperate measures, and all that.”

Michael regarded the human more carefully. He was wearing a determined expression, and what he had said did make some kind of sense.

WE DO NOT EVEN KNOW WHETHER YOU CAN BE MY VESSEL, Michael cautioned. MUCH LESS MY TRUE VESSEL.

“So what happens if we try and I can't? I mean, I figure I'm gonna die, but then what. Do I just go back to Heaven?”

Michael's wings rustled thoughtfully. YES, I SUPPOSE.

The boy might of course fall into madness or have his soul snuffed out under the weight of Michael's grace, but Michael elected to omit those finer details.

“Okay, then we just try it. I'm not supposed to be alive anyway, right? And with my mom dead, it's not like I've got anyone waiting for me or whatever.” Adam raised his chin. “So do it. Possess me.”

ALRIGHT, Michael said after a moment. ADAM MILLIGAN, WILL YOU LEND ME YOUR BODY AND YOUR-

“Woah, wait. I already told you to do it.”

YES, BUT THERE IS A PROCEDURE TO THINGS, Michael said, not exactly pleased about being interrupted. AND BESIDES, YOU NEED TO SAY 'YES'.

“Oh, okay. Then yes.”

Michael let out something that might have been a sigh in a human. Then he resigned himself to not getting to give a big speech, and possessed the boy.

It was a tight squeeze within a human, but not so bad as Michael remembered. Mostly, he supposed, because there was a lot less screaming from the soul than the last time he had taken a vessel.

When Michael was almost fully settled, but had not had time to put Adam Milligan to sleep, the soul said: Sick.

Michael turned some of his attention to the human. YOU CANNOT BE SICK WHILE I AM POSSESSING YOU.

Woah, that voice doesn't get any less loud when it's inside my head, huh? Uh, but I just meant that this is like, neat and stuff.

NEAT? Michael did not see how possession by an archangel could be 'neat', seeing as how it would be unpleasant – to put it mildly – for even the hardiest of souls.

Yeah. Heh. I'm possessed by the archangel whose feast day I was born on. My mom would flip out.

Michael paused, and reconsidered the information he had received about the boy beforehand. There was nothing in his memory of his birthday. This might have been due to the fact that he didn't read the memo which Zachariah had prepared, but he still thought about who he might punish for this oversight.

Mom always said I was special because I was born on St. Michael's Feast Day. I doubt she imagined anything like this, though, the soul kept babbling.

St. Michael's Feast Day, or Michaelmas. In the Western Christian world, this event was celebrated on 29 September of the Gregorian Calendar. As Adam had grown up in this sphere, the fact that he was born on this day held meaning.

To someone born in the more Eastern Christian circles, the same would have been true for 8 November.

It didn't generally matter. Michael had no special connection to humans born on his feast day, nor did he have any particular interest in them. However, the boy being of the Winchester bloodline and being born on Michaelmas might have created the right conditions to make him a near perfect vessel.

For a moment, Michael wondered if his Father had planned this: A second vessel. Another option. But why would God plan for Michael's failure? No, it was more likely that it was a coincidence, though a lucky one.

YOU WILL DO, Michael decided.

Oh gee, thanks, dude, Adam said. If his tone was a little sarcastic, Michael ignored it.

This would all be over soon, anyway. Once he had executed the apocalypse, he could shed this vessel, and return Adam's soul to its rightful place in Heaven. (With a possible pit-stop at his mother's Heaven. Michael might have been a lying bastard – something that Adam would accuse him of plenty for about a hundred years in the cage – but he was not entirely without mercy, or sympathy.)

It was, of course, not all over soon. In fact, Michael and Adam would spend almost 1,600 years in the deepest layer of Hell, partly with the devil for company.

As first Sam, and then Lucifer was freed while Michael and Adam were still trapped, it began to look as if it would be the end for both of them, or at least the end of hope. But then, miraculously, they were freed, and stood in the golden rays of the glittering sun, dazed.

Had the world always been so bright, Michael wondered, and so beautiful?

The soul that lived in the chest he shared was doing somersaults.

We're free, Adam thought, his words gleaming perhaps more brightly than the sun. We're really, actually, free.

Michael smiled, and spread his wings wide, as if they could catch the slight breeze.

He didn't know what the future held – a beginning, or an end, or possibly both – but he and Adam were finally free. Free to go wherever they wanted, something that Adam was more familiar with than Michael, though he had never travelled as far as they would those following weeks. Free to do what they wanted, an entirely novel concept for Michael, who followed Adam as his guide to the sprawling world before them.

Free to be who they wanted. Except, of course, when Michael's father returned, and brought the dreaded ending.

But the ending of one book doesn't preclude the beginning of another. Or even the possibility of taking up a pen and writing one's own story.

And so they did. But that is a tale for another time.

[thephantomcasebook]

Let me prefix this by saying I somewhat find names interesting, their etymology, their meaning etc. In this fandom I like to look at characters that may have shared the name in the past, possible parallels between them, all that jazz but with Alicent her last sticks out to me.

The word Hightower invokes the image of Rapunzel, an imprisoned princess waiting to be rescued. Princess' in towers often have a dragon guarding the tower acting as a guard dog for the jailer. Not only is House Targaryens sigil a dragon but they call themselves dragons. They're dragon riders.

Alicent is so miserable 98% of the time we see her onscreen after her father's plot to have a become queen. Viserys uses her body for pleasure and heirs he does not care for. She struggled so much as a teen mom to a wailing infant and must deal with the fact that by simply breathing her children automatically have a bounty on their heads. She can't speak tyr truth about Rhaenrya's children otherwise it's off with her head. Hell Rhaenrya herself made a snarky comment about the situation Alicent was in.

Instead of being knight physically freeing her from this cage, Criston Cole frees her emotionally because she is able to share her thoughts with him and unlike her father he does not manipulate her so she is free to do so. He frees her by acting as somewhat of a father figure to her children and while I dont believe he was going to take Lucerys eye that night, I believe he was one of the few people who cared about her wellbeing and wished he could offer her some comfort. The regret in his voice when he said "as your protector my queen"(I want so baldly to free you from your pain but theres only so much I can do) . Kingsguards only follow orders of the king and are willing to turn a blind eye to the bullshit around them but the easy Criston eyes Viserys when he is dismissive of Alicent, man is contemplating being a Kingslayer. Criston can't free her in the traditional sense but he offers a reprieve. It's such a beautiful story of courtly love.

It always makes me think of 1x07 when they're in a foreign place, somewhere alien and uncomfortable like Driftmark. And the entire time they're almost inseparable, attached at the hip. You can tell that Alicent makes her home right against Criston's chest cause she's uncomfortable in this cold and unfriendly place. He is her comfort, her familiarity.

I think that unspoken direction between them, of living in each other's personal space, tells you all you need to know about those characters without saying a word. The familiarity, the unspoken bond, and the two in one aspect of their relationship, does the job better than 1x06 of contextualizing their connection. Criston isn't her mad dog, her hired muscle, nor her personal thug. He is literally all she's had for a decade - alone - with no one to comfort or look after her. Criston is her everything. He comforts her, affirms her, and is there when she needs someone.

1x06 made them seem like bitter and scolded high school kids. But 1x07 contextualizes them as something so much more in that one scene where Alicent pleas for Justice for Aemond is ignored and she turns to Criston and demands that he take Luke's eye in return. It's so automatic, so instinctual. She is alone ... again, and so she turns to her rock, her champion, her only friend, and the man she dreamed would've been her husband, to carry out her will, to avenge her, yo avenge this child they raised together.

"No, but you are sworn to me!"

Is such a telling line. It might as well be "You're all I have left in this life!" and the moment that Alicent and Rhaenyra mix it up, Criston runs - RUNS! - to her aid and has to be restrained from getting to her. Then, in the end, comes to her side, after checking on Aemond and stands by her as they square up with Rhaenyra and Daemon - the dueling rival couples.

My only regret is that they didn't keep it like it was in the book, where Otto wasn't there, so it really was just Alicent and Criston with the kids, alone, among the Blacks. I feel it would've had more weight and isolated feeling. Cause, when Aemond loses his eye, it is the catalyst for the Lyonel and Harwin Strong's deaths and the return of Otto and Daeron to King's Landing - effectively Alicent and Criston calling the Green's banners.

[azure-steel]

@ghostofnibelheim asked:

"Can you eat these?" Four lonely and dry words make the spell by which the war hero dispels the heavy and dreary silence of the lounge room of the 49th floor.

Standing tall and imposing before the small infantryman, he holds up a single chicken egg.

Hopefully, a hard-boiled one

There was always something so fundamentally tedious about sentry duty. No one enjoyed just standing around in one spot for hours on end until your brain dissolved in your headcase. But today was special, super special in fact. So very few infantrymen are bestowed the hour of guarding the 49th floor lounge.

And even few the honour of being approached by one Sephiroth SOLDIER First Class. Ah, Cloud could feel the light fizz of the stars in his eyes when Sephiroth not only approached and gave address, but also offered a gift.

Albeit an egg.

The blonde's stand-to-attention was cut drastically short as he regarded the question, but also this offering which... seemed to still have the shell on.

"I... uh... I mean... hmm..." It was the best Cloud could muster in the moment, a myriad questions raced through his tiny mind in response to the request posed to him just now.

'Why is the shell still on...?' 'This doesn't sound like an order, am I okay to say no?' 'But this is Sephiroth SOLDIER First Class, my idol and superior, is denying him seen as a crime? Will I go to jail?' 'But if I do take it, just how much pain am I going to be in if Heidegger finds out I've been eating on the job...?'

Amidst the panic now beginning to froth into the infantryman's gullet there had to be a miscommunication between his brain and his basic motor-functions as he would simply reach out, take the egg with it's shell still on and just cram the thing into his mouth. There was a lot to be said about instinctual compulsion, that was for sure, and there was plenty to regret in that moment he would never be able to take back.

The crack of that shell grinding against his teeth was utterly revolting, the cold white and the yolk on his tongue equally as nauseating. It must have shown on his face; that down turned scowl to his mouth, the almost (but not quite) tearful expression in his eye How he was able to resist his gag reflex as he swallowed it down, shell and all had to be commendable, surely!

The egg... Cloud was going to be tasting that thing on his tongue and feeling it in his throat for next week.

It was RAW!!!

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: I've Been Waiting for You Comic

I may not have been writing for the past month of so, but I've been busy with requesting commissions! 😆

I've been wanting to get this scene from Chapter 2 of (Less Than) Noble Intentions done for over a year, and after seeing the amazing work that @rosefuckinggenius magiced up for some other authors here on Tumblr, I knew she'd be able to do this scene justice, and I couldn't be happier with the result! 😍

Artwork underneath the cut

Extract from Chapter 2: I've Been Waiting For You

With a possessive growl, he pulls me into him, his lips locking onto mine in a savage kiss.

My mouth opens in surprise, and he takes full advantage of the implied invitation with his tongue. A moan escapes me as my fingers tangle themselves into his hair while his hands rake down my back.

I lose myself in his kiss, a part of me wondering how we had managed to keep ourselves from ripping the clothes off each other every time we found ourselves alone after that first steamy kiss at the beach party...

...where he also told me that we couldn't do this...

Tearing my mouth away from him, I blurt, "But I thought you said—"

"Fuck what I said," he snarls. "I'm done pandering to him and everyone else."

Grabbing my backside with both hands, he lifts me up against him and my legs wrap instinctually around his waist. Trailing hot kisses down the side of my neck, he kicks his duffle into the room. Striding into the room after it, he slams the door shut behind us. Pushing me up against the wall, he loosens his hold on me and I slide down his hard body.

"Drake," I gasp as his hands fasten around the curve of my waist underneath my t-shirt. "Are you sure?"

His sudden fervour was in stark contrast to the past month where he had always been the one to pull back. But as much as I wanted him to not stop, I also didn't want him to brashly jump into something that he would later regret.

"Damn sure," he replies gruffly, his mocha eyes meeting mine with conviction. "I don't want to wait anymore... I can't wait anymore."

He seizes my mouth roughly, his fingers digging into my hips.

"Are you?" he asks, breaking off the kiss to look at me again. "Because if we do this, there's no going back..."

"I'm sure," I confirm with a smile, grabbing onto his belt to pull him closer. "I was done waiting weeks ago."

"Thank fuck for that..." he breathes, cupping my face in his hands and capturing my mouth again.

I sigh blissfully.

Finally — finally! — we could kiss each other in the way both of us had wanted to... no, needed to since that first kiss — thoroughly, deeply, uninhibitedly, instead of the desperate, hurriedly stolen moments that we've been having to make do with until now.

Without easing up his demands on my lips, Drake's hands skim down my neck. His palms brush over my breasts and I bite his bottom lip with a moan, the thin material of my t-shirt doing nothing to dampen the heat of his touch.

He makes a low sound in the back of his throat that sends heat licking through my core as he grabs the hem of my top and yanks it up.

I lift my arms up in anticipation of him pulling the t-shirt off completely, but instead, I feel him twist the material around my hands, binding them together in a vice. Immobilising my wrists against the wall with one hand, he uses the other to trail his fingers down my arm, over my neck and down the valley of my breasts to my stomach.

I try desperately to pull my wrists out of their restraints, itching to grab the lapels of his jacket, to tangle my fingers into his hair... anything to feel him under my hands, but his hold on me immovable.

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