#flashback*

[ravenncouture]

Beyoncé in the 2000’s

[daringtiger-creates]

Rough Memory for Story

"Really, my dear" His voice chided. "No, really!" A familiar drunken voice slurred with a giddiness he felt rare familiar with, "It'd be the perfect place! 'Sss ssecluded 'n hasss ssso much sspace n'...." Crowley trailed off in thought. His head bobbing like one of those bobble heads, his fingers tapping his wine glass before raising it up with his index finger extended and pointing at Aziraphale, "DUCKS!" "Ducks?" "Could h've a pond for the little blights. Vissit them an'... stuff" Aziraphale hummed in a drunken agreement at the idea. 

        They had been talking about the cottage since it was built. Crowley had watched the workers from afar and after a gruesome battle during King Arthur's reign, he and Aziraphale had made their way there. The previous occupants fled the area once the raids came and so it was left abandoned. They tended each others wounds there and it was the place Aziraphale finally agreed to the Arrangement. Ever since then, on drunken nights where both needed to just forget the world outside, the dream of the cottage would emerge. They would talk about it for hours, mostly Crowley, until something would bring them back to reality and they had to part ways. Once parted, Aziraphale would pull out a hidden journal specifically for the cottage. He'd write down all of Crowley's ideas and let himself indulge in the dream that maybe one day, they could have this. Of course, Aziraphale never truly believed they would, it was just a pipe dream after all. But, oh, what a dream it would be?

        Aziraphale gave his best smile in his drunken state and topped off his lovely companion's wine glass. He would give Crowley anything he needed, even if it was all only talk in the end, "That sounds like a lovely idea."

[great-great-grandpyramids]

[archerinventive]

Some swords for your Saturday.

I'm still sorting through so many photos from this years summer season. So, in the meantime, here are a few of my favorite sword themed pieces from the past.

A big welcome to all of those who have recently joined my Tumblr page. I'm delighted to have you here, and I'm excited to show you all the new shenanigans underway. :)

Wishing you all a splendid Saturday. 😊

4th photo down by Kindra Nicole.

[strayswolf]

Jason slowly falling into a flashback gave this issue so much life and a greater purpose. They’re once again acknowledging harm Jason suffered at the hands of the Joker, and how he continues to deal with the mental scars left behind, an aspect that isn’t addressed enough in comics and is so appreciated here.

Also, the artistic decision to have Dick’s word bubble, “He’s taken too much from this family. We can’t let him take any more.” inlaid over introspective Jason was perfection.

Batman: Wayne Family Adventures, Season Three, Ep. 119, We’re Not Gonna Take It

[achromaticegoist]

Where did it all go wrong?

chat i’ve had this idea for *literal years* but i’ve never really got to making it a reality

scene is inspired by that one underverse 0.3 part 2 flashback

guys i’m like crying over them right now they’re SO CUTE (until well…)

[artalfons]

In every scene Genesis is there just out of frame, you just didn't know it.

[bl00dfroma-fairy]

[ask-spiderpool]

[justbreakonme]

Whumper always doing something sweet or soft before torturing the Whumpee, like brushing the hair out of their face or kissing their cheek.

It’s too small of a detail to mention or even remember during the rescue and the first few days of settling in with Caretaker.

But that means both Whumpee and Caretaker are completely blindsided by the intense flashback/panic attack that small, unassuming gesture caused.

[hotyanderedaddies]

The School Bully Loves You, Pt. 0:

When Blake Fell in Love with You

Part 1 │ Part 2 │ Part 3

[Yandere! Bully x GN Nerd! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

You heard the other students chant over and over that there was a fight, and judging by the "Ooohs!" and "Oh shit!", you could tell that someone was getting their butt kicked.

You didn't want to be associated with any of that stuff, so you did your best to steer clear of any drama.

You were only in fifth grade, but you were pretty wise in a certain retrospect in that you did not want to be involved in any sort if unnecessary drama that would add stress to your life. In fact, this was so prominent in your attitude that you were deemed to be a bit anti-social (shy was more apt).

However, since the crowd of chanting students was in the same direction that you had to take in order to get home, you were forced to walk towards the commotion despite your apprehension.

The closer you got, the more you could see the fight that was going on.

One guy had another pinned to the ground, and the one on top was wailing on the other one with both fists. The sounds of flesh against flesh banged out, and you cringed at the onslaught you witnessed.

"Teacher!" a random kid shouted out, pointing towards the school where one of the fourth grade teachers poked her head out to scream at the crowd to disperse.

Everyone scattered, leaving the one kid who'd been wailed on in the dust.

He stayed on the ground, coughing a little bit as he tried to catch his breath.

You didn't move from your spot, ignoring everyone else as they ran off, leaving just you and the apparent loser of the fight.

A part of you said that it wasn't your responsibility, that you should've just walked home and tried your best to pretend that you didn't see anything at all.

But your conscience told you otherwise.

Swallowing your nerves, you called out, "H-hey!"

The guy remained still on the ground.

You didn't have a phone yet (thanks Mom and Dad), so you couldn't call 911. Therefore, you rushed forward and up to the other guy, your eyes widening at what you saw.

You didn't recognize him. He must've been in a different grade, maybe older because he seemed really big and tall (even from his lying position). His cheek was bruised up and his right eye was swollen shut. He had a cut on his arm that was bleeding a little bit-- not too bad, but enough to where it might ruin his leather jacket.

"Are you okay?" you asked, immediately feeling stupid because he obviously wasn't.

"...yeah," the guy grunted, turning his head away from you, blushing a little bit.

You bit down on your lower lip, not knowing what you could say to help out the random dude who'd gotten his butt kicked. Therefore, you did the only thing that you could think of.

"Um," you mumbled, "um, I have a band-aid...?" You cringed a little, but still dug through your backpack for a band-aid to give him. Your mom made you carry a box with you to school since you were pretty clumsy and always seemed to manage to fall down and skin your knee, hence your box of Hello Kitty Band-Aids.

You pulled out a band-aid with Pompompurin and peeled off the back, carefully sticking it to the guy's cut arm. Out of instinct, you bent down and pressed your lips to it, giving it a little kiss like what your mom does to all of your ouchies.

You froze, having no idea why you'd done that.

"Uhh..." you mumbled. "I hope you feel better!"

Thinking quickly, you shot up to your feet and sprinted away as quickly as you could, scurrying in the direction of your house.

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

As Blake watched you run off, he looked down at the band-aid on his arm that had some random cartoon character on it.

He snorted and was about to pull it off, but then froze.

His skin still tingled from where you'd kissed him and simply thinking about it made his heart flutter in his chest and his breath get all ragged.

He recognized you from school, recalling how you'd typically keep to yourself and how you were a Grade A nerd.

...and how cute you are.

That'd been it initially-- Blake had thought that you were sorta cute, not paying too much attention otherwise.

But as he watched you run off, he couldn't help but stare in wonder.

Why had you helped him?

Why did you care?

And, ultimately, why weren't you his yet?

"They'll be mine," Blake promised himself. "Sooner or later, I'll make them mine."

He smiled as looked down at the Band-Aid you'd given him and placed his hand over where you'd kissed him, smiling to himself.

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

From then on, Blake made it his mission to make sure that you were protected at all costs.

He heard someone talking shit about you or thinking about messing with you?

He kicked their ass.

He heard someone say something negative about you?

He kicked their ass.

Someone cut you in line during lunch?

He kicked their ass.

Someone was wanting to ask you out on a date?

He kicked their ass.

Just that simple act of kindness that you showed the school bully had him wrapped around your finger. You didn't know it, but he was one-hundred percent devoted to you.

He walked you to and from school everyday, making sure to keep a little bit of distance in between the two of you. He knew that you were shy and that you didn't want to be involved in any sort of drama.

Plus, Blake wasn't delusional. He knew that he had an extremely negative reputation surrounding him, and he didn't want to drag you down with him. Everyone looked at him with fear in their eyes, and if you were associated with him, then he'd inadvertently ruin whatever reputation you'd built up.

In his mind, you're an angel, and he didn't want to taint you.

Hence, he kept his distance and made sure to admire you from afar.

But still, if anyone were to ask, Blake would say that you're his. He loves you after all, more than anything in the world.

And he promised himself that eventually he'd confess to you... all he needed was something to push him to do so...

[prythiansfavoritefox]

“Tell me when you knew,” (Lucien) demanded, his knee pressing into mine. “That Rhysand was your mate. Tell me when you stopped loving Tamlin and started loving him instead.” I chose not to answer. “Was it going on before you even left?” I whipped my head to him, even if I could barely make out his features in the dark. “I never touched Rhysand like that until months later.” “You kissed Under the Mountain.” “I had as little choice in that as I did in the dancing.” “And yet this is the male you now love.”

And yet this is the male you now love.

And yet this is the male you now love.

And yet this is the male you now love.

[tiya-minuscule]

Red Previous Chapter Next Chapter Coming soon I told you it was an AU....... Forget everything you think you know about Randall and what might have happen to him or Hershel. No one is safe now 👁️👁️ Well I hope you'll enjoy this story ! It was really fun to play with my usual style and experiment some "horror" element ? (For halloween, what a timing !) It's not perfect but I'm happy with the result, can't wait to use it more haha >:D See you very soon my dear ! (There is a lot of little details hidden in this chapter, will you find some ? Don't hesitate to share your theories in the comment, tags or my inbox ! I can't wait to read it) You can support me and see the process and some exclusive content on my Patreon

[great-great-grandpyramids]

Interlude | The beginning of the end

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

They're Mates - with Y/N Pt 3

Summary - Y/N decides she wants to learn to fly again.

Warnings/Other Notes - This one is in 2nd person pov because the first two chapters were looking at Y/N and Az’s relationship from a source not within their relationship. 2k word chapter- Again, some of these lines/plot points are inspired by, or directly quoted from, ACOMAF. This chapter takes place prior to the first two chapters.

Injury mentioned, though not super graphically. Reader relives/remembers having her wings cut.

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Masterlist

✨💫

You could feel the blade cutting into your wings. Tears spilled down your face as you screamed in pain, begging the Mother to make it stop. You were never going to fly again. The one thing that brought you unending joy, your only source of freedom, was being taken away.

“Y/N?”

The edges of your memories blurred. That voice, you recognized that voice.

“Y/N?!”

That sweet, honey-like voice called you. Something in you warmed and the pain lessened. Like you were basking in the sun.

“Y/N!”

You shot up in bed, your legs tangled in the sheets. A cold sweat dripped down your face and that same smooth voice kept saying something, but your mind was still catching up and couldn’t process them, not right now. Your chest rose and fell rapidly and then there were hands cupping your face. Not those smooth hands in the romance novels, but hands with bravery and adventure etched into them. Hands that felt like home. Your eyes shot up to meet a pair of hazel ones. Azriel.

“You’re safe. I’m here, your safe. Your father can’t touch you anymore,” the shadowsinger whispered to you. 

You nodded and leaned forward to wrap your arms around him. He reciprocated. You chased away the nightmare, remembering where you were. I’m here with Azriel. With Cassian, and Rhysand. With Rhys’s mother. Az saved you. Your arms tightened slightly around the shadowsinger, burrying your face into his muscular shoulder. His shadows curled around the both of you. His scent felt like home. The same scent that you had become familiar with every time you fell asleep, the one still lingering in the bedding when you woke up and he was gone off to train, with a promise to come back in time for dinner.

Sharing a bed with the Illyrian didn’t start right away, not on purpose. It just happened one night. Azriel never made it back to his own bed, instead he fell asleep comforting you from the same nightmare. Then it became purposeful, falling asleep and not returning to his own chambers. And one night the shadowsinger didn’t even bother finding his way into his own bed, Az just went straight to yours. You certainly didn’t mind and Rhys’s mother never said anything.

“Azriel?” You asked against his shoulder.

He placed the gentlest kiss to your temple. One that reminded you of a waltz you heard one day in Velaris. “Yes?”

You lifted your eyes to look at Az’s face. “What if I never fly again?” Your chest started heaving again. You broke away from the shadowsinger and looked away. It felt like someone had lit a fire inside you. Not one that someone makes to keep you warm on an incredibly chilly night, but a fire started out of malice, one to kill and destroy.

Azriel’s features became softer, contemplative if that was at all possible. “Impossible…because I’ll teach you.” 

Your eyes shot up to his face. “Are you…certain? Do you not need to train? I don’t—”

“I would spend the rest of my life in that damned cell for you again, Y/N.” He paused. “Don’t think I wouldn’t teach you to fly. Unlike Cass and Rhys I remember learning. Both of them would tell you to just flap your wings. I understand the fears and mental blocks of being older.”

You let out the softest laugh, wiping a drop of sweat from your forehead. “Thank you, Azriel.”

He nodded in his silence, considering something a moment. Az stood from the bed, his pants sitting low on his hips as he disappeared into the washroom and reappeared a few moments later with a damp cloth. “May I?”

You nodded and he gently pressed the cool cloth to your forehead, making the sweat disappear as if it had never happened. His shadows flitted through your hair. Whispering to you. Care. Care. Care.

The shadowsinger tried to call them back, but they had a mind of their own, especially around you. You chuckled lightly. Silly little guys, acting like a bunch of toddlers. When Az decided he had done a sufficient job of wiping your face he pressed another kiss to your forehead before hanging the cloth to dry and returned. 

You were lying down in the bed when he returned. He climbed in next to you before pulling you against him. You both fell asleep and slept soundly for the rest of the night.

The following day you went into Velaris with Rhysand’s mother to run a few errands. Her skills as a seamstress were impressive and she used it as an opportunity to occupy a portion of her time. You stopped at your favorite bakery to pick up a few things for dinner that evening. You also found a used book on diplomacy that was on sale. Rhys’s mother kindly bought it for you; well maybe more for Azriel’s shadow who seemed desperately intrigued with it. When you returned home, to your surprise, Trouble, More Trouble, and Too Much Trouble, were already there. (Nicknames you had aptly given to Azriel, Rhysand, and Cassian.)

Too Much Trouble grinned when he saw you and clapped his brother on the back. “This one here got us kicked out early today for starting not one, not two, but three fights. I mean he looked like death coming to collect souls for the next life. Don’t insult, Y/N!!”

“Shut up, Cassian,” Rhys said, giving a pointed look.

“You weren’t any use, Cassian,” Azriel growled back while shoving his brother’s hand away from his shoulder. Az had a black eye and dried blood along his cheek bone. He didn’t meet your gaze but his shadows happily slithered over to you. Protect, Protect, Protect, they whispered to you. Then you understood the shadows’ need to be near you, hovering. The reason why you had a shadow over your shoulder since Az saved you from your father. A form of protection, something to keep you safe, something to report back to the shadowsinger if you were in danger. 

And that’s exactly what Azriel had done earlier that day. Defended you without remorse. 

You glanced at Cassian who had a bruise on his jaw and then to Rhys who also had a black eye. Rhys’s mother looked far from pleased. “Cassian. Rhysand. Upstairs! Clean yourselves up.” Her gaze turned to the shadowsinger. “Azriel. Sit .” She announced as she put the bags down from your earlier trip to Velaris. 

For all her softness, Rhys’s mother certainly had a sharpness to her not often seen. Rhys and Cass’s wings hung ever so slightly and only for a moment before they shifted again and they disappeared up the stairs. You followed them.

When you got to your room, you opened the book bought earlier that day and began reading on the bed. The sheets still smelled of him, of both of you. The shadow rested on your shoulder, appearing deeply engrossed in the words too. About fifteen minutes later you could hear the shadowsinger coming up the stairs. You knew it was him for the sole reason of his footsteps. You had learned how Azriel, Rhysand, and Cassian walked. The heaviness of their feet, the pace.

You could hear Az and Rhys out in the hall. “Your mom wants you,” is all you heard before Rhys is walking downstairs and the shadowsinger is walking into your room. You closed your book to look up at him.

“C’mon.” The shadowsinger stepped towards the small balcony and opened the doors. “You can’t learn to fly in here.”

“What,” you asked him, confused.

“You think I started the third fight for the fun of it?” Azriel asked, offering his hand out to you.

You only gave him a confused look, remaining on the bed.

He walked back towards the bed where you sat reaching for your boots. He knelt down on his knees. “Sure, the moron had it coming. That doesn’t change the fact that fighting with him for a third time got me the afternoon off to teach someone how to fly.”

Your mouth fell agape. “Azriel,” you admonished and a smile came over the shadowsinger’s lips before pulling on your boots. “I am perfectly capable of putting on my shoes, Az.”

He only offered you a hand after he tied them up. You took it before he swept you into his arms. You craved his embrace, more than so many other things. Azriel walked back towards the balcony and shot into the sky.

You never imagined how some people hate this, because Gods this felt good, felt like freedom. It reminded you of your childhood when you flew whenever you could, as if flying up into the sky might take you away from all of your problems. You just hoped the next time you flew it would be on your own wings.

Azriel landed in a clearing, gently placing you down on the ground carefully, to make sure you didn’t fall. “I want you to be careful. If anything hurts too—”

“I promise I’ll tell you,” you said to him with a nod. 

“Is it…is it okay…okay if I touch your wings? For correction I mean? Should it be… necessary?” The shadowsinger asked from behind you, almost nervously. For good reason. The concept of touching someone’s wings without permission, in particular females, was beyond inappropriate. 

You nodded, you could sense the shadowsinger behind you, observing your wings carefully. You could feel his eyes scanning up and down. “Azriel?” You asked quietly.

“I can’t say I am a healer and know the anatomy well, but perhaps we start at the beginning. Test the muscles, the ligaments.”

You nod, something feeling oddly intimate about the moment. You turn to face the shadowsinger whose face had contemplating written all over it.

“Try spreading them and tucking them in,” he said as you faced each other. 

You nodded, spreading your wings as best you could. Mother above you hadn’t actually tried to do this in a while. You grimaced but managed to spread them, pushing them to your full extent, spreading your feet to offer you more balance.

A small smile of pride was clear on Azriel’s face. “Now fold inward.”

You did, slowly, afraid to tear or rip something in your wings. You couldn’t stop the smile when you folded inward with success. 

“Good,” he said with a mild amusement in his eyes. “Try again.”

You spread your wings again, your muscles ached, but that was good. That meant they were there, that meant you had a chance. 

Azriel’s eyes followed the movements, and cauldron boil him if your form wasn’t the most stunning thing he had ever seen. The shadowsinger had to put more concentration into not letting his knees buckle under him than he would like to admit. Beautiful. Stunning. Lovely. Beautiful, stunning. Lovely, his shadows whispered in his ear.

You pulled your wings shut rather than slowly closing them which caused you to lose your balance slightly, falling forward. Azriel reached out to catch you before you could land on the ground with a light amusement in his eyes before he suddenly realized how close in proximity you were to him. 

You’d been this close before. By the Gods, you shared a bed every night, but something felt different. You gently rest your hands against the shadowsinger’s chest in silence. 

“Y/N?” He asked quietly, hands shifting to cup either side of your face.

You looked up to see his face leaning down slightly. “Azriel.”

You don’t know who leaned in first, maybe Azriel, maybe you. It didn’t matter, because moments later the shadowsinger’s lips were on yours. They were sweet, and salty, and soft and warm. Like a warm biscuit on a cold night. Your fingers wound up in his hair before he pulled away. “Was that okay?”

His response was pulling your lips to his again, harder, more desperately like he had lived in a dry desert for centuries and you were a tiny pool of water in the middle of it all.

You returned to opening and closing your wings, building the muscle until it was as easy as walking, though it certainly felt like the cauldron was burning you alive when you woke up the following morning. But you couldn’t be bothered, you were going to fly again.

Taglist: @5onedirection5

[asteriass]

Mizi & Till’s shared rebellion

This scene is very interesting to me

It’s not merely a scene showcasing Till & Mizi’s relationship, it’s not simply a heartfelt scene featuring their closeness & how they did hung out. But rather, the scene also features them hiding from aliens - An act of rebellion

I think it’s very intentional… Because if the point was to simply have a sentimental scene about the two as Till passes away, they could’ve chosen any scene. Any scene where the two are hanging out, any scene where they have a geniune moment. Yet the background of the scene is them evading an Alien. Hiding from its watch, obscuring its view of the two‘s “rebellion”, going against the expected in an otherwise “mundane” moment.

A simple moment, the two are bonding. It develops as expected, there’s sincerity, yes. Yet as the two are huddled up close, in the background we can see they are hiding, the scene is not as simple as a normal sincere moment. They are actively going against the expectations of the aliens.

And to me… for this to be the main theme of the flashback showcased to us feels important.

Especially when you consider the deviations in Round 7 as compared to how other Rounds‘ deaths are executed!

In the case of Round 7, it’s the only flashback moment. Unlike Round 1 & 5, that contain various scenes of the past to create a more emotional impact for the deaths, Round 7 only contains this singular scene with Mizi. And even that only happens AFTER Till is shot. Not before, so any sentimental value hits the viewer differently too.

Thus it all ends up putting the focus on that flashback between Mizi and Till EVEN MORE. And when the core of this major sentimental focus is the two’s act of rebellion TOGETHER… it begs the question of what narrative purpose it serves, no?

Because let’s rewind a bit.

Round 7 goes incredibly… “”normally””. There’s no last minute contradiction or twist, even Till’s death lacks impact. Its almost underwhelming because of how simple the execution is. The Round progresses like a typical in-universe “Alien Stage“ round - for the Aliens it develops almost entirely as expected. I think you can kind of see where I’m going with, but to me, narratively, it’s very reminiscent of that flashback with Mizi. Both are simple at first glance… but is that really the point?

For the Aliens its going as expected. It’s going as it’s supposed to go, no tricks, no secrets. And yet in the flashback they are being tricked. Mizi and Till are tricking them, Mizi and Till are going against their expectations in secret. They are secretly rebelling, hiding the truth together.

Till looks beat up & scuffed, he‘s flustered and anxious, yet Mizi holds him close, beckoning him to not make any ”unexpected moves”, to not alert the Alien that everything is not under its control, that they are going behind its back.

A very similar sight to the very end up of the Round I feel… Mizi holds a wounded, anxious Till close. As the Alien’s cheer in the background - for them the round was an exciting success as expected…

And then she says something to him, during which Till’s hand falls to the side.

A coincidence, MAYBE… but also clear parallels. I think, this scene is supposed to parallel the two’s act of rebellion against the expected, like the flashback (the only flashback, and thus one of the most integral scenes in the entire MV)

Perhaps… there is more to it than it seems. Perhaps there’s more going between the two in the moment than the Aliens are privy. Perhaps they are once again defying their expectations. Perhaps once again, they are secretly acting out, keeping a secret. A secret, like… the Round didn’t go as expected. That the fire that was shot didn’t pick up the target correctly in its aim. That the beating pulse went under their radar. That maybe just maybe, though on his wounded, his heart is still beating.

That perhaps, once again, like in the past, their defiance, their rebellion in their own small way, has gone unnoticed from the Aliens’ watchful eye. A shared secret to save their lives

Aka, Till‘s heart is beating (even if faintly) and they are trying to trick the aliens and go under their radar, lest he be shot multiple times like Ivan was