#say it louder for those in the back who refuse to accept this

[iwanthermidnightz]

thank you for saying this yet again taylor!

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok but what if I had to continue this story about Knight!Ghost and Presumptuous maiden!reader

She can still feel his breath on her, but the huge body pinning her to the wall ceases to move.

"...What?"

It’s pure shock.

She’s dropped so quickly she has to take support from the stones behind her.

She wouldn’t have to: Simon grabs her by the arm and prevents her from falling forward and back towards that plated chest. His eyes search for hers, and she looks up at the knight who almost raped her – in the corridor of all places like she’s nothing but a common whore. But for the first time ever there’s genuine shock, even fear in his stare. The remnants of lust flicker back alive every now and then, but mostly he looks like she just hurled a powerful curse at him when she told him she’s a virgin.

"I'm sorry,” she tries. “I’ll–I’ll never do it again. I promise."

"Bloody fucking…"

He looks her up and down, the leather straps of his armour wailing from his still heaving chest. She should bolt, now, when Simon has taken a step away from her and is clearly puzzled and confused. But she can’t: those eyes rise to hold her captive again. And now, there’s anger in them.

"You should be whipped."

"For what...?"

Her chest is heaving, too. She never knew how low her voice could get when there's want in the air and in her veins.

"You attacked me, sir. I should have you whipped," she continues like an absolute fool.

"Don't test me, girl," he slurs behind bared teeth. She finally remembers how to shut up.

"Tsk."

Simon nudges his head towards the stairway leading to her quarters. Get out while you can, the gesture says, and she gathers the hem of her heavy woollen dress and flees.

She never believed her miserable begging would stop or sway him. Simon is bound by oath and honour, or then he doesn’t want his master’s wrath upon him. Her worth is between her legs; they both know it. Defiling the king’s daughter could lose him his head.

She climbs the stairs, slips into her room and bolts the door. It should probably be strange that she’s left aching by what just happened. It should make her wake up from her silly dreams, that the only thing stopping this man from raping her is other men, not her feelings and sensibilities.

It should be considered a doom, not fate, that she only wants him more.

…

Simon never participates in the tournaments, but this time, rumour has it that he’s planning to join.

In a distressed hurry, she makes preparations for the great day. There can be no other reason for him to joust other than the wish to win her favour back. His actions speak louder than any words, and just for the sake of that, she has kept her promise. She walks the halls as if the knight called Simon never even existed. She won’t look his way even when he has his back turned on her. She only dreams about him when the moon is full and there are no more candles burning in her lonely room.

But it’s hard.

It’s difficult, and it’s a horrible fate she has to suffer, because now it’s he who can’t keep his eyes off her. Now it’s Simon who has suddenly caught her scent, who is suddenly interested in dangerous, stupid sports such as jousting that could injure or kill a man. But he’s willing to do the thing he apparently hates most – along with the fevered attention of insufferable, flirtatious maidens – because he needs a token of her favour. She’s sure of it: that’s why she embroiders a tiny ‘S’ on her finest, most precious handkerchief.

The tournament day is as beautiful as can be. Her heart is about to rend itself out of her chest when Simon approaches her, riding across the field in his heaviest grey armour. He’s surrendering himself at her mercy, and at the mercy of other people’s ridicule, rumour and gossip by making it known that he thinks himself worthy of her blessing. She wonders if she’s the one being played now: she can’t decipher why he would refuse her one day, then fight to gain her favour the next.

He accepts her silken handkerchief with a blank expression, but his eyes betray the inner turmoil when he sees the embroidery. A plain, simple token would have sufficed – the adorned ‘S’ is a bit too much, it's a clear sign. It’s ten times more clear than her earlier games, ten times more blaring than her vivacious little flirt. She could've embroidered the sentence “If you come up to my room at nightfall, I will let you in,” on it and the meaning would've been just as obvious.

He tucks it under his breastplate and gives her a sideways look that is filled with both distaste and longing. Only Simon can speak entire sentences through his eyes. They say, “You’ve gone too far,” and “If I come out of this alive, you’ll get whipped, or fucked, or both.”

And one thing she never knew about Simon was that he could joust better than anyone. There’s one dead, three wounded and five humiliated by the time Simon is declared the winner of the tournament. Everyone understands now why he never joins these things: he will only rob the fun of other knights by toying with them.

Her chosen one accepts the king’s words and the crowd’s applause with a stern but slightly painful expression. Simon would rather be anywhere but here, but endures being the centre of attention for the rest of the afternoon like a good, patient dog. Then he disappears somewhere, done with being the sudden pet of the people. The next time she sees him is in the morning as she descends the stairs.

“Fawn.”

She flinches from the now familiar dark voice. He’s been waiting for her, and almost prowls forth from the shadows when she’s floating down the steps. There’s a good few feet between them, but she can feel the heat emanating from him. Simon is always blazing like the sun, and he's always tired, downright exhausted, encumbered by pain or something worse.

“Do you always forget your promises so quickly?”

She corrects her posture under his tall shadow; she should’ve known there would be consequences for that handkerchief.

"What crime have I committed now?"

Simon never expects it when she fights back. Long, pale lashes cover the brief bafflement in his eyes, then he reaches for something under his tunic. Her heart skips a beat – he has kept it against his skin, right over his heart, instead of under the plate where he tucked it at the joust.

"This belongs to you," he holds it between them like it’s nothing but a piece of dirty cotton he wants to get rid of. Or then he doesn’t want to stain it with his hands – who knows? This man is so full of contradictions she’s having a hard time getting to the bottom of his soul. She has all the time in the world to study different characters here in the castle, but Simon remains a tightly locked mystery.

"No,” she lifts her chin proudly. “It belongs to you."

His nostrils flare for a moment – a sign of anger or exhilaration; you’d need a powerful witch to tell.

“A knight should return the lady’s favour if he survives the joust,” he mutters, clearly trying to make an effort to speak finely to a fine lady.

“You don’t have to. I made it for you.”

He grunts with frustration, then shoves her gift back inside his tunic. Then he tilts his head. A strange, dark little smile rises on his lips.

"Fawn. Did your father ever beat you?"

It’s only morning, but Simon makes it feel like they’re having this conversation in the cold, damp dungeons. Her heart shudders at the foul words, and yet, she fights to maintain eye contact. She fights both tooth and nail to look straight into the abyss.

"No."

"I can tell."

Insolent bastard, is her first thought at such audacity, but two can play this game, is the second. She takes a slow step forward and rejoices silently when Simon struggles to remain still.

"If I was your wife…" she starts softly, "Would you beat me?"

His nostrils flare again as he looks for a trap where there is none. She’s standing before him without any shields, with no weapons, and he still can’t tell, the poor man.

"I don't beat women," he finally spits. Then he succumbs to the impulse to get away from her, although it looks like he’s struggling to do so, too. He has to wrench himself free, and it gives her more power to rise rooted: to meet his crude manners, the arrogance of a dog.

"You'd never be my wife," is the last thing he says, so quietly that it’s nothing but a mutter; a sullen whisper. The birds have fallen silent, or then she can’t hear them anymore. The golden light that pours from the narrow windows makes it suddenly seem like this morning could last an eternity.

"Why not?" She whispers back.

The moment shatters – her knight escapes like he’s the fragile little fawn now. The clatter of his armour makes it known how much of a hurry he’s in to get away from the golden light... And from her.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Itcha gurl, back at it again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The doctor checks the chart then glances at the machine with your father’s vitals. Today, you’re father’s awake. He has been for a few days but today he’s alert. You know because he told you the jello was disgusting. Those are the first and only words he’s said to you in more than two weeks.

“You’re very lucky to have a daughter who knows what she’s doing,” Dr. Shearer remarks.

Your father grumbles, scowling as he doesn’t offer much else to the doctor.

“You must be happy to have her around,” Shearer continues, “it is time to start considering your discharge. You’re stable, breathing on your own again, your heartbeat is within a normal range.” You watch your father as he stares past the doctor. It’s as if he refuses to acknowledge that this is real. “You’ll have a few new meds to add to your day but with normal check-ups I think we can be optimistic.”

A grunt. You fold your hands and stand up, “thank you, doctor. Erm, could someone explain the new medicines to me?”

“Yes, of course. That’ll be in the discharge paperwork but I’ll have a Nurse Practitioner come to discuss with both of you,” he assures, “and some resources on quitting. The cigarettes can’t continue.”

“I’ll smoke if I goddamn want,” your dad snarls, breaking his shield of indifference.

The doctor gives him a sharp look but doesn’t argue, “I’m only here to diagnose and give me treatment suggestions. But you keep smoking, sir, and next time, you won’t make it to the hospital.”

“Good,” your dad sneers defiantly.

The doctor nods and his mouth seals grimly. He turns back to you, “let us know if you need anything else. We have some support groups and resources, I’ll make sure that info is also sent off with you.”

“Thanks so much, Doctor,” you squeeze your hands tighter. You want to apologise for your father but you know he’ll only get worse if you do.

“It’s alright,” Shearer says as if reading your mind, “these things are stressful. For everyone. Couple more days and he’ll be free to go.”

You try to smile but your cheeks can only tremble. The doctor leaves you with your father and you peek over at him. He grimaces at the ceiling.

“That’s good news, dad,” you say as you near the foot of his bed.

“Is it? You shoulda left me to die,” he barks.

You flinch, not once, twice. A chirp in your pocket further jars you as it shrilly erupts in the buzzing silence. You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and clutch your flip phone as it bings even louder. The little digital display shows the agency’s number.

“Sorry,” you apologise and flip it open, turning away to scurry out and answer, “hello?”

You hold your breath. Why are they calling? You didn’t have a job today and you only really get emails regarding clients. It must be very serious.

“It’s Clara,” your boss begins in her terse way. “Have you seen my email?”

She sighs, “you should be checking daily. Got a job today. You want it?”

You blink. This is the first time you’ve been asked to come in for an extra shift. You could use the money desperately. When your dad is discharged, he’ll be sent off with another invoice.

“Yes,” you accept without hesitation, “I’ll take it.”

“Great. Check your email. Details are there,” she sniffs.

“Alright, tha-nks,” your voice cracks as she hangs up in the middle of your last word. She must be busy, surely more busy than you, the lowest rung on the ladder she has to keep from falling over.

You close the phone and put it back in your pocket. You shuffle back into the room and find your father with his eyes closed. The machine continues to beep in time with his pulse.

“I gotta work,” you say, “that was my boss–”

“Then leave me alone,” he snaps without opening his eyes, “can’t you see I’m tryna sleep?”

“Sorry, I–”

“Go and don’t come back,” he growls, “I don’t need you crowding this shit hole.”

“Um, dad, I–”

He coughs and hacks and waves you off, swallowing thickly, “I said go.”

You dip your head down. You can’t imagine being in his position. Stuck in a hospital bed on the other side of near-death. You might not be very nice yourself.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I don’t care,” he turns his head and wiggles his shoulders as he tries to get comfortable.

You swallow down the hurt. You didn’t expect him to thank you for what you did. Not for anything. That’s just what you do for someone you love. Yet, you hoped he might have woken up a little bit nicer than before.

“Love you, Dad,” you murmur.

He grumbles. That’s all you get. You suck in a breath and hold it in, trying to keep from crumbling long enough to get out of that room.

🧹

At first, you’re not certain the information in the email is correct. You’re to return to Mr. Laufeyson’s house for the second time that week, but it’s a Friday night. In your days at the hospital, the calendar lines skewed between the alarms you kept in your phone for sanity. The return to reality is just as disjointing as the descent away from it.

You go home and change into your typical cleaning attire. All black. Plain. Clothes meant for getting dirty. Not that any of your wardrobe is particularly spectacular.

You grab your kit and your water bottle and rush out to catch the bus. You’re not used to being on transit near-dark. The prospect of getting home comes to mind as you cling to a pole amidst the crowded vehicle. It makes you nervous but you’re certain it will be okay. Mr. Laufeyson lives in a nice neighbourhood.

You get off the bus and bring your phone out. As you approach the house, it is lively with bodies milling in and out. You let yourself through the gate and peer over at the two cube vans near the front entrance. A white jacket, pristine uniforms, you can only assume they are some sort of catering company. The type you’ve seen on TV in those reality shows with women drinking wine.

You watch them for a moment. They are orderly and determined. What’s more, they work together in perfect harmony, words passing quietly and easily, trays moving smoothly between hands and set onto carts. It’s a shining contrast to your dim and lonely work.

You make yourself turn away and continue around the back of the house. You stop short of the rear corner and a gasp bubbles up. You watch a hummingbird buzzing over the bed of flowers. It’s so small and green and cute. You wince as it flits up towards the window, your cheeks bulbing to the smile as your gaze follows it. 

In a moment, it wings away, shyly retreating from your admiration. Your eyes fall to the window as you sense a shift on the other side. Just between the edges of the half-drawn drapes you meet a pair of green eyes over a long and cynical nose. Your smile dissolves as you recognise Mr. Laufeyson and his stony observation. You touch your fingertips to your mouth in self-reproach and tuck your chin down, turning back onto the path.

You go to the back door but it’s already unlocked. You let the handle go and linger outside. You noticed the email is shorter than usual. This isn’t your typical rote with Mr. Laufeyson.

‘Cleaner to be at standby for guests and cook…’

You glance down the paragraph. You’re to stay until after the ‘event’ so that you may tidy up. Your curiosity sparks but quickly fizzles. It’s best not to be too concerned. Just focus on what you need to do.

You let yourself in but forego the shoe covers and gloves as specified in the email. You hang your hoodie in the closet along with your kit. As you hook the strap of your water bottle over your head, a glimmer passes down the end of the hall and the lighting shifts. You look up as Mr. Laufeyson approaches.

He always dresses finely but he looks particularly put together. His hair is tidy and neat and he wears a velvet jacket in a deep shade of violet over a black collared shirt and matching trousers. His tie is narrow and blends into the fabric of his shirt. He keeps his hands behind him as he holds his chin up.

“I trust you understand your assignment,” he prompts as he stops a foot away, cornering you in the back hallway.

You nod. He tilts his head but his veneer does not break.

“Not that,” he points to the water bottle, “you may ask one of the cook’s assistants for a glass should you require it, but be rid of that ugly thing.”

“Oh–” you gulp back your voice and bow your head again. 

You untangle the trap from your torso and open the closet, tucking it away with your sweater and bag. You shut the door and find him closer than before, his hand on the door frame as he looms over you. His other wanders down the trim of his jacket.

“You are to keep yourself unseen. You tend to messes and that’s it. The rules remain. Are we understood?” He asks.

You look at him and nod. He sighs and stands straight, a deep breath rising in his chest. 

“You may answer aloud so I know we are clear,” he says.

“I understand, Mr. Laufeyson,” you eke out.

“Mmm,” his gaze lingers on you in unreadable consideration. Dressed in plain cotton, you feel wholly insignificant before him. “Go on, you will keep your vigil in the kitchen. They would require most of your assistance.” He backs away and buttons the front of his jacket, “you will not disturb my guests. Not a look, not a word.”

You know your turn to talk is over. You merely nod and he seems pleased by your deference. Not openly, he shows a hint of a smile nor does he praise you. But he is not unhappy and you know that is a feat.

🧹

The cook’s name is Corissa. She has spiraled red hair and pretty gold-green eyes. As you enter, she introduces herself and asks your name.

“I’m just here to clean,” you explain. “So if you need me–”

“Oh, hon, no need ta be shy,” she says in her wolfish voice, “we’re all in this togetha.”

You smile and stand against the wall, waiting to be told what to do next. She gives you a lingering glance but doesn’t comment. You see a question woven in her brow. She begins her work, directing her assistants at saucepan and cutting board alike, all while falling into a raucous rapport.

“Theo say ‘ma, did ya have ta tell that story?’” She cackles midway through a tale you lost track of, her hands moving expertly at her work, “and I say, ‘the gal deserves ta know, ‘specially if ya mean to burden her’.”

You bite into your lower lip. It’s like there’s an invisible wall in front of you. It’s been there your whole life. That one that separates you from others. You’re always on the outside watching. Just like in the schoolyard when the girls wouldn’t let you play with them. Or when your dad has his buddies over and told you to ‘piss off to your room’.

The first course is served on sleek black trays. As you watch the servers carry them out, Corissa calls your name. She makes you lurch in surprise as you’d be convinced you blend right into the plaster.

“Come have a taste,” she insists, “this one’s a bit mussed up.”

“Um, er, it’s okay, I’m not hungry–”

“Bah, come on, have some. I hate ta toss it in the bin.”

You don’t want to argue. That would be rude. So you come forward and accept the crumbly pastry with an ugly tear in the top, the filling bulging out.

“Lobster croquette,” she explains, “you’re not allergic, are ya?”

You shake your head and thank her as you back up to the wall again. You cup your hand under the misshapen ball as you bite into it. You could hum at the taste. It’s delicious and rich and savoury. You’ve never had anything like it. You’ve never even tasted lobster before.

“You like it?” She asks as you swallow your mouthful. You nod. “Quiet one, you.” She points at you.

You don’t answer. What can you say? You are quiet. You finish the croquette and go to dust the crumbs off your hand over the bin. You slide your foot off the pedal and let the lid drop. You take the cloth from your waistband and near the counter, going to work at tidying up the remnants of her work.

“Eh, look at you, busy little bee,” she chuckles, “I was gettin’ ta tha.”

“My job,” you insist.

“Maid,” a snap of the fingers draws your head up as Corissa sprinkles seasoning into a new pan.

Mr. Laufeyson offers only a curled finger. Your eyes round and cross to him, tucking the cloth into your pants again. He’s already striding away as you get to the door. You trail him, uncertain at what he needs. 

He leads you to the dining room, the garble of voices and clinking of glasses preceding your arrival. He enters ahead of you and claims the seat at the head of the table. The serves pass you with empty trays and you gape around in confusion.

“Oh my, look at me,” a woman giggles as she uses a cloth napkin to pat along her collarbone. Thin straps cling to her delicate shoulders as her skin glistens beneath the golden chain strung around her throat, “making a scene already.”

You see the wine glass on its side and hear the contents dripping onto the floor. You put your head down and hurry over. The dinner guests laugh and are quickly onto their next topic, about some coast they plan to vacation at once the summer comes. You try not to eavesdrop as you sop up the puddle of wine on the table and get down to wipe clean the floor.

As you do, you feel a tickle on the back of your neck. You don’t let it stop you. It must be an accident. You’re so cramped between the woman’s seat and the next that you must be in the way. The fingertips remain and brush more firmly as you hear a low, gritty exhale. 

You ball up the damped cloth and stand, daring a glance at the man as he draws his hand back into his lap. His broad shoulders make the back of the tall chair seem small and his blonde hair is twisted into a low tight bun. He guffaws loudly at the table, seemingly unfazed by his own wandering touch. It must’ve been an accident.

You back up and peer towards the head of the table. Laufeyson’s eyes are slits as he stares in your direction. Surely, he’s not watching you. You’re supposed to be unseen. Get out of there.

You retreat quickly, the din thundering louder and louder at your back, rumbling behind you into the hall. You wring the cloth, now stained and stinking of wine. You hope you didn’t upset Mr. Laufeyson, you only did as you were told.

[daisynik7]

Give You Blue

Chapter 5: Dreams

Pairing: Eren x f!reader, Reiner x f!reader (past relationship)

Rating: Explicit (for mature content)

cw: switching POVs (reader is in 2nd person, Eren is in 3rd), implications of a panic attack and anxiety, language, angst, mature content, sexually explicit content

Word Count: ~3.9k

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Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3 | Give You Blue Taglist

Summary: Your friendship with Eren is taken to the next level. You have a sweet dream that turns into a nightmare. Eren tells his parents that he is considering changing his major. Author’s Note: What do we think of this chapter? I know it’s a bit of a slow burn, so I appreciate you sticking with this! Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated. If you want to be tagged in the next chapter(s), please let me know! Divider created by @/mikeykuns.

You press firmly on the strings of the guitar, stretching your pinky as far as you can to reach whatever note Eren instructed you to. With a gentle strum, you play the chord. Well, sort of. It definitely doesn’t sound the way it did when he showed you. You drop your head, sighing. “Okay, it’s official. I suck at guitar.” 

Eren sits crossed legged in front of you. “You don’t. Try again,” he encourages, a small smile on his face.

“I can’t get my hands to bend the right way!” You hold your palm out in front of him, twisting your fingers in all types of misshapen claw formations. “Admit it. I suck.”

“You don’t suck.”

“It’s okay, I’ve accepted it! And as my mentor, you should too. Say it.”

“I will not,” he refuses, folding his arms over his chest, smirking. 

“C’mon, Eren! Look,” You play the broken chord again, louder this time, trying to prove a point. “See?! Say it!”

He chuckles, responding quietly, “Okay, maybe you do suck at this. Just a little bit,” pinching a small space of air between his thumb and index finger.

You set the guitar back on its stand, laughing. “Ha! I knew it. This tells me that I should leave this to the professionals.” You grin at him, hugging your knees to your chest as you sit across from him on the carpeted floor. 

Ever since the game-night Eren hosted a few weeks ago, the two of you have grown closer. More often now, you find yourself in his room, chatting about life, listening to each other vent, watching a movie, or indulging in his wonderful guitar skills. He even attempted to teach you the stringed instrument; the key word being attempted. Being with him makes you almost forget the misery that you suffered at the beginning of this semester. Almost. 

Reiner remains relentless in his efforts to contact you. While you’ve managed to avoid any personal confrontations ever since the last one outside your dorm, he hasn’t stopped reaching out through text. A few times throughout the week, he’ll call you, leaving a short message that’s along the lines of, “Hey, it’s me again. Call me when you’re ready to talk.” You never pick up, nor respond, and still, he tries. 

You wish you were unfazed by it, but parts of you cling to the past. Deep down, it pains you to ignore him. Sometimes, you see him as Reiner, your best friend, the kid you grew up with. Protecting you on the playground, confiding in you during his lowest moments, picking you up during yours. And as much as you want to preserve those memories of him like a delicate treasure, one bad breakup is enough to shatter it. To make you realize that maybe the two of you should have stayed friends all along, and nothing more. 

Surprisingly, you’ve been able to talk about this easily with Eren. Annie has always been your main confidant throughout, but her less than gentle approach sometimes leaves you defeated, as if you’re wrong for having these conflicted feelings for your ex. As much as you’d like to be completely, one hundred percent over him, it isn’t that simple. And with Eren, he understands that. Having no stakes in it, or knowing who Reiner is, he listens to your inner turmoil without judgment. He makes you feel normal. 

He's been opening up to you, too, sharing his on-going struggles with his pre-med major and the impossible expectations of his father. He maintains that pleasant smile on his face, despite being crushed by whatever weight that’s been forced on him from an early age. A victim of suffering he’s been subjected to inherit, without any say. It’s his father’s burden that was passed on to him, to continue whatever legacy he thinks will help the world. Dr. Jaeger is always looking out for the greater good of society, never about his own family. 

It’s been nice confiding in each other, not having to hold back for the sake of each other’s feelings. When you were with Reiner, you always had to be extra cautious around him, wanting to avoid saying anything that might hurt him. In Eren’s case, he’s never been able to be honest with his father. While he has his mother, he can’t always be completely honest with her, not wanting to cause any rift amongst his parents.  

Eren is actually considering changing his major. He’s been in contact with Erwin Smith, getting an idea of what the process would look like. The senior has been more than helpful, alleviating any concerns he might have about the transition, even setting up a time to meet with his father, who works as a teacher at a nearby elementary school. Still, he’s apprehensive to make the final step, as expected. It’s a big decision, one that changes the course of his future. It might cause drama between him and his family. No matter what he ends up deciding, you’ve made it clear that you’ll support him through and through. 

You check your phone for the time. “It’s getting late. I should probably head back to my room now before Annie gets worried.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, wouldn’t want her getting an ideas about us.”

“Oh, believe me, she already has. She’s convinced we’re dating,” you say, standing up. 

He follows, stepping towards the door, fingers at the handle. “How scandalous! I can picture the headlines now: Anxiety-ridden RA whisks beautiful resident off her feet to run away into the sunset together.”

You beam at him. “Now that’s a story I’d love to read.”

He smiles back. “Me too.”

Recently, there’s been a shift in energy between you two. There’s no denying it: you are attracted to him, both to his magnetic personality and his charming looks. But there’s this everlasting guilt in the pit of your stomach, preventing you from pursuing anything romantic with him. Simply imagining it brings you shame, like it’s inappropriate to think about. Obviously, you and Reiner are over, maybe for good. And you’re almost certain he’s been with other women since, at least, that’s what your self-conscious mind theorizes. So what’s stopping you? Is it fear? Fear of working hard at another relationship, only for it to crumble before your feet, like it did with your ex? You can’t take any more heartache. It’s easier to avoid it all together. 

As you’ve said before, the easier road isn’t always better. And the optimistic, love-sick fool in you believes there’s a chance at a happy ending, this time with Eren instead of Reiner. It’s new, foreign territory, a journey filled with the unknown. Is it worth the risk? 

For now, you keep these thoughts buried in the back of your mind. You value your friendship with Eren, enough to not ruin it. Besides, you’re unsure how he feels about you. Maybe you’re better off as friends and nothing more, just as it should have been with Reiner. And while this hurts to realize, it’s better for everyone in the long run. There’s no room for heartbreak if you don’t give your heart to anyone. It’s that simple, right? 

He holds open the door for you, leaning against the frame. “Sweet dreams.”

“You always say that,” you giggle.

“Well, that’s because I mean it. I really hope you have some seriously sweet dreams tonight.”

You step out into the hall slowly. “Thanks, Mr. RA. I wish the same for you, too. Goodnight.” With a final wave, you head into your room, cheeks pleasantly warm with a bright smile on your face. 

~~~

“You’re beautiful.”

Eren lays beside you in bed, cupping your face in his hand, thumb brushing delicately along your cheekbone. He leans closer, lips brushing yours into a gentle kiss. A rush of heat radiates to every inch of your skin, electricity buzzing through your veins. “I want you to feel good,” he whispers, mouth grazing your ear, fingers sliding down your throat and to your chest, resting his palm over your heart. You hold your breath as he touches you, nervous to be vulnerable with him. 

Sensing this trepidation, he pulls away to look at you, tipping your chin towards him to meet his gaze. With a comforting smile, he says, “It’s okay. You’re safe with me.”

And you believe him. At his words, you’re at ease, letting his hands caress your body, stripping you naked. He scatters kisses on your neck, trailing down your stomach, slowly making his way between your thighs. Peering up at you, he asks, “Can I taste you?”

You nod, eager to feel his tongue on you. 

He latches his lip on your arousal, licking and slurping at your clit. Your fingers are bunched in his hair, feeling his head thrash side-to-side against your pussy. 

“Fuck, Eren. Feels so good,” you moan, indulging in the pleasure. 

At the mention of his name, he suddenly stops. When he raises his head to look at you, it’s Reiner. He crawls up to face you, nose-to-nose, sneering. “How could you do this to me, Coco? Cheating on me with your fucking RA? You fucking bitch.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed and in shock, limbs rigid at your sides, unable to move. You’re trapped beneath him, the air growing thin, making it difficult to breath. As you suffocate, he grabs your face in a rough grasp, seething the words, “Cheater, cheater, cheater” over and over again…

You wake up with sweat beading on your forehead, blanket twisted around your limbs. Guilt weighs heavily on your chest as you take deep breaths to calm down. It was a dream, thankfully. Reiner’s never called you a bitch before. It was the worst version of him your mind could think of in the form of a nightmare. 

Sitting up in bed, wiping the perspiration from your face, you recall Eren’s uncanny farewell to you hours earlier. It definitely started as a sweet dream; the idea of you and Eren being intimate with each other has you flustered. All the times you’ve been alone with him in his room, elbows grazing, hands brushing, the shared looks that last seconds longer than they need to. It’s a leap of faith, to cross that line. And fear is what holds you back. Fear of failure, of falling in love to only stumble out of it again. Fear and guilt. It’s silly to feel guilty about it, especially since you’re the one who got your heart broken. But nightmare Reiner calling you a bitch and a cheater haunts you.

You lay back down in bed, fitting your head comfortably in your pillow. It takes a while longer for you to fall asleep; eventually, you do. And deep down, you’re disappointed when you don’t have another dream about Eren. 

~~~

Eren sits in an alcove on his favorite beach, watching the sunset on the horizon. He managed to catch this beautiful sight before he has to meet his parents for dinner. It’s their semi-annual visit; his father managed to squeeze him in on his very busy schedule. Lucky him. 

He takes this time to lose himself, pretend that it’s just him and the sea, basking in the day’s last moments of sunshine. It’s too pretty to indulge in all alone. Suddenly, he has the urge to share this with someone else. Without thinking, he scrolls through his contacts, finding the one person he wants to talk to. The resident from Room 104. His friend. 

It takes two rings until she answers. “Hey, are you okay?” 

He smiles to himself, amused at her immediate concern. He realizes now that he’s never actually called her before. They’ve texted plenty, exchanged funny tweets, greeted each other good mornings and goodnights. But to hear her in his ear, as if she’s sitting beside him, feels right. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just called to say hi.”

There’s a beat before she responds with a simple, “Hi.” He can practically hear the rounded cheeks on her face. His chest swells, happy he decided to dial her number. “Where are you right now?” she asks.

“I’m watching the sunset on the beach,” he replies, wiggling his toes into the sand. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s beautiful here. It puts my mind at ease.” He wants to add that her soothing voice has the same effect; he decides to keep that to himself. 

She hums. “Sounds like paradise. Where is this, exactly?”

“It’s my super-secret spot. No one knows about it, not even Armin or Mikasa. You have to be really special to know about it.”

She laughs. “I guess I’ll have to charm it out of you, then.”

Too late. He unsure exactly when it started, but lately, Eren has been seeing her in a different light. From the first time they met, even though snot and tears as she cried over her ex because of a cupcake, he was drawn to her. In a weird way, he felt a connection; she’s going through her own struggles like he is. Everyone around him is having a fabulous time, nailing their classes, partying like there’s no tomorrow. And he never resented his friends for enjoying their college experience. He felt left out. Different.

And maybe it’s true: misery really does love company. However, being with her is far from miserable. Although they confess to one another their strife in life, it’s cathartic, like a cumbersome burden gradually easing away. When they’re not complaining about annoying exes or overbearing parents, they’re sharing new memories together, learning more about each other, solidifying that bond. That connection. 

He likes her, enjoys being around her. Sacrifices precious study time to teach her guitar, though she really does suck at it. He forgets about the unending quizzes and tests he has to constantly prepare for because he’d rather sit on his carpeted floor, snacking on Pocky Sticks or eating Chinese takeout with a movie playing on his laptop. He’d choose her over textbooks any day because being with her is like an escape. A breath of fresh air when he’s otherwise suffocating from the pressure. 

Before he realizes, he’s saying, “I’ll show you this one day. You’ll love it.”

“Does that mean I’m special?” she teases. He pictures her on the other line, smiling with the phone pressed to her ear, lying in bed. All cozy in the sheets, probably in some dainty pajamas. The hem of her shirt riding up, exposing that cute belly. Maybe she isn’t wearing a bra, nipples peaked through the fabric…

He’s officially lost it. Face hot with shame, he rattles his head, as if doing so will eliminate the naughty thoughts occupying his mind. Swallowing hard, he answers, “You are special. Very, very special…” It comes out awkwardly. His cheeks are sweltering with both guilt and embarrassment now. What’s going on with him?

Luckily, she seems to think he’s still normal, replying, “You’re special too, Mr. RA. Thank you for being such a good friend to me.”

Friend. He has to remind himself that they’re just that, and nothing more. If only she knew the effect he has on him. Would she give him a chance? 

His phone vibrates in his hand, and he knows it’s his mom texting him that they’re on the way. It’s his cue to head back into town. He reluctantly says goodbye, nothing else incriminating coming out of his mouth. With one last glance at the ocean, he turns around towards his car, dreading what’s to come. 

~~~

Less than an hour later, Eren and his parents are sitting around a table at an Italian restaurant downtown. The waiter serves their drinks, iced water for Eren, two glasses of red wine for his parents. His mom is holding over most of the conversation, catching Eren up on all of the family news. He doesn’t care, but he likes listening to her talk. It’s relaxing for him, allows him to not think about anything else. That is, until his father starts speaking. 

“Eren, Zeke’s been telling me you haven’t been performing well in Organic Chemistry. Is that true?”

What a fucking snitch. It doesn’t surprise him; Zeke’s always knocking Eren down a peg so he can look taller in the eyes of their father. And while he says he means well, he actually doesn’t. However, this is a good opportunity to segue into what he actually wants to discuss. “Yeah, dad. That’s true. Ochem is really kicking my ass right now.”

Dr. Jaeger takes a swig of his wine. “Do you need a tutor? I’ll give you money to hire one.”

Eren tips his water into his mouth, gulping slowly. He’s getting nervous, second guessing himself if he should really say what’s been on his mind for the past couple weeks. Before he chickens out, he decides to go for it. “Actually, I’m considering changing my major.”

The silence is loud, even with the other patrons clinking their dishes and chatting away.  His mother stares at him, eyes wide and mouth parted open. His father swirls the alcohol in his hand, staring at the liquid whirling around the glass. It lasts for at least a full minute, or at least, that’s what it seems like to Eren. He’s tempted to add, “Just kidding!” to make this painfully uncomfortable quiet disappear.

Finally, his father speaks. “If this is your idea of a joke, it’s not very funny, Eren.”

“I’m not kidding.”

He leans forward, inspecting his son’s face carefully. “What would you change it to?”

Eren taps his foot nervously beneath the table, responding, “Education. I want to be a teacher.”

His father barks a cruel laugh, startling your mother and the neighboring table, who stares, intrigued. “Teacher? You want to be a teacher? Eren, this is ludicrous. I’m not going to waste my money on your tuition for you to become a teacher.” 

“What’s wrong with being a teacher?!” Eren snaps. 

“I’m paying for you to become a doctor. Teachers don’t make any money.”

Eren mumbles, “Not everything in life is about money.”

“That’s a very naïve mindset. How will you support a family without a decent income?”

“There are plenty of teachers who can afford to raise a family, so I don’t see how that’s relevant.” And besides, making more money doesn’t automatically mean you’re a better parent. Prime example is Dr. Jaeger himself, but Eren knows better than to throw that back to him. 

His dad shakes his head, massaging his temples as if he’s got a bad headache. “You need to hire a tutor, Eren. The courses are difficult, but getting a tutor will help.”

“It’s not just that, dad. I’m not happy. I don’t want to be a doctor.”

His mom chimes in. “Honey, are you sure you’ve given this enough thought? This is a big decision.”

He nods. “I have. It’s been on my mind for a while now. And I know in my heart this is what I want.”

She gives him a small grin, glancing at her husband, who’s reeling in his seat. “Grisha, it’s going to be okay.”

“Carla, this is his future. He’s ruining his life.”

Eren scoffs. “Dad, is it really that bad?”

He glares at him. “You were supposed to take over my practice.”

“You have Zeke.”

He continues to rattle his head, freaking out. “If you change your major, I will not pay for the rest of your tuition.”

It’s a threat. Eren’s prepared for the worst. “I’ll get a job, take out loans. If you don’t want to support me, fine. But that’s not going to change my mind.”

It’s silent again for what seems like forever. Suddenly, Dr. Jaeger stands up, tossing his napkin from his lap onto the table. “I can’t listen to this anymore. Carla, we’re leaving.” 

“Grisha.”

He stares at Eren dead in the eyes. “You were supposed to be special. I had very high hopes for you, Eren. Now, you’re just a disappointment.”

It’s words. That’s all it is. Eren has to remind himself that. Sticks and stones, right? But the disdain on his father’s face, the contempt dripping in his frown, all of that combined with what comes out of his mouth so easily, without a hitch in his breath. It breaks his heart. He is not prepared to hear this. While it doesn’t completely surprise him, it still hurts. He fights the tears, gulping down the sorrow building in his throat. Drinking the remaining water in his empty cup as his father storms off, his mother chasing after him, pleading with him to come back. Eren waits a couple of minutes, hoping they return, that his dad apologizes and takes back what he said. It doesn’t happen. His phone vibrates and reveals a text from his mom.

Mom: I’m sorry honey

Mom: We’re driving back home now

Mom: I will talk to your father and I will call you later

In the worst timing possible, the food they ordered minutes before disaster is served. Eren asks the waiter to package everything up, no longer hungry. After he pays the check, he drives back to campus, grip tight on the wheel, listening to whatever music is on his playlist at full volume. Trying to drown his father’s words replaying over and over in his head. You were supposed to be special. I had very high hopes for you. You’re just a disappointment.

He parks the car in his usual spot, sulking in the driver’s seat for a little while longer until he exits, carrying the heavy bag of pasta towards his room. It’s a Friday night, and of course, the dorms are empty because everyone is out partying, not being a disappointment to their parents. He approaches his door, leaning forward to press his forehead against, feeling like he’s at the bottom of the barrel, trying to claw his way out somehow. He can’t call his mom because she’s probably too busy dealing with the aftermath. So, he dials the only other person he knows will listen. The only other person he can rely on. 

She picks up his call quickly, after one ring. “Eren?”

He thinks he can hear her faintly down the hall from inside her bedroom. His feet shuffle  towards Room 104, dragging the to-go bag of food along with him. “Hi,” he greets, sullen. 

“Are you okay? Where are you?” She sounds concerned, and in this fucked up state he’s in, it’s what he needs. Someone who cares. 

“No, I’m not,” he sniffles, tears rolling down his cheeks. “It was a mistake. I should have never said anything.”

“Where are you?” she repeats, more frantic this time. From outside, he can hear her bed squeak as she hops off it. The swish of a jacket. The jingle of keys. Seconds later, she opens the door, finding him already standing there, begging for comfort. 

And it’s not weird when she hugs him, wrapped around his torso, her face nestled into his chest. She fits into him like a puzzle piece, a missing one he never knew he needed. This is the closest they’ve been, probably the most they’ve ever touched. Yet something about this is familiar. Maybe it’s the warmth radiating from her affectionate embrace. Or the way he instinctually bows his head to nuzzle his nose at the top of her head. This is what he’s yearned for, dreamed of. Someone who looks at him like he’s worth something, even when other’s see a failure. Someone who holds him tightly with every fiber of her being to make sure he knows he’s loved. It’s in the way she presses her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. How her hand massages small circles onto his back, chanting, “It’s okay, Eren. It’s going to be okay.”

And with her in his arms, he actually believes it.

Taglist:

@batafuraikisu @bloompompom @monirei @filunara @katestrophes @ichinosejager13 @hoperenae @zellskz @e-ayyy @liliorsstuff-blog @maliakealoha @holdmeclosebutdontloveme @chrollohearttags @sailorputa @squickkk @dnyllmh @hellomeow12 @s-cream-ing @potofstewie @conniesbbymama @erzascarlett28 @lem-hhn @roronoazorosbxtchh @ichigostrawberry15 @rhaelrence @lilshades @bigmoodyjoody @icansmellsouls @aangsupremacy @ashsauroras @bakuhoes-bxtch @mrs-wolfwood @si-kamo @jmtherula @imaddicted-b @monkemanjeager @neesiewrote @large-juice @chiinni @belovedackerman

[aquagirl1978]

Hi :D I'd like to pretty please request azel 😈 :3, please and thank you!!

Hey @floydsteeth - so nice to see you in my inbox! You really made me work with this one - Azel is an interesting guy and quite unlike any other suitor I've written before. Thank you to the amazing translators on here for sharing their work - I'd be lost without your work. With this fic, I have once again written for all IkePri suitors.

Spark

A/N: Part of my Naughty or Nice event Pairing: Azel Radwan x Reader Prompt: naughty Word Count: 616 Tags: spicy? i tried, it's hard with this guy

“Where do you think you're going?”

You turned around slowly, your bag still in your hand, to face Azel who was lying in bed. Awake.

“I was going for a walk. Outside. I’ve been cooped up in this room with you for….three days? Not that you care,” you replied defiantly.

“You’re right. I don’t care.” He sighed dramatically and fell back onto the bed. “But if you must go out –”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Bad things and misfortune will come my way. Right?”

“Where do you think you're going?”

You turned around slowly, your bag still in your hand, to face Azel who was lying in bed. Awake.

“I was going for a walk. Outside. I’ve been cooped up in this room with you for….three days? Not that you care,” you replied defiantly.

“You’re right. I don’t care.” He sighed dramatically and fell back onto the bed. “But if you must go out –”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Bad things and misfortune will come my way. Right?”

“You could just stay here?” He rolled over onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. Positioned like this, with his lean body sprawled out and his long hair, tied in a perfect ponytail, falling over his shoulder and his eyes – oh, those opalescent eyes – that you found to be so mysterious and mesmerizing, he did look like the God he claimed to be.

“No thanks.”

Azel sighed again, this time louder and more dramatic. “Fine. You win. Leave me here all by myself.” He covered his face with his hand, pretending to wipe away fake tears. He quickly looked up, his gaze fixed on your bag. “If you are going out…”

“Let me guess, you want something.”

“Well, I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“There’s some dorayaki over there. A gift from Kagari. You can have that.”

Azel made a horrified face. “Do you think that is a suitable treat for a God?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Your loss then.”

“Tch, I suppose I can eat one if you refuse your God this one little favor.”

“My God? You’re my lover, not my God.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?” 

You stared at him blankly, your arms crossed tight against your chest.

“I should punish you for this defiance. Come here.”

Deciding it would be easier to simply accept your “punishment” rather than argue with a petulant God, you walked over to him, standing beside his bed. “I’m here.”

“Bend down a little closer,” he asked.

Seriously?  Boy, was he making you work for this. 

You plopped down on the bed next to him as ungraciously as possible , ignoring the disgusted look on his face. “Let’s say I eventually leave this room, and I manage to get you a nice snack – one appropriate for a God – what will you do for me? As repayment.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m a God. Gods don’t pay for things,” he scoffed.

“I told you, you're my lover, not a God,” you reminded softly, your hand reaching for his hair, “and as my lover….”

“What are you doing?” he bristled as you combed your fingers through his hair, removing his hair tie.

“Shh… you look so pretty with your hair down.” You ran your hand through his hair, long silky strands cascading like a silvery waterfall around his shoulders, a pale, pink blush colored your lover’s cheeks.

It didn’t take long for him to close his eyes and make a soft, pleased sound.  As if his body betrayed him, his shoulders jerked and his eyes opened, his gaze narrowing, meeting yours.

“If you’re going to complain, I'll just have to…”

“Do what?” he asked, daring you, as your face approached his.

“Nothing,” you said, your voice teasing as you gazed into his eyes. You felt a slight spark the moment your skin made contact with his; dragging a finger slowly down his arm, you linked your fingers with his when you reached his hand.

“I’m going to charge you for this…” His voice wavered, lacking its earlier confidence, as he stared back into your eyes.

You do that, you thought. It was well worth any price to watch the living God break before your eyes.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady

@queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome

@kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira

@crypticbibliophile @lancelotscloak @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen

@melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage

@nightghoul381 @maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra

@drachonia @ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @portrait-ninja

@sh0jun @ikesenwritings

[wayfaringellie]

a little songv drabble in case y'all were getting hungry again... (i'd love comments in exchange for the goods and services :3)

From time to time I like to imagine a little convo between V and Song Mi during a quiet moment that goes something like this. When it's most peaceful. They could be eating dinner, sitting around a fire. Watching a movie together at night. It begins with So Mi fixing her gaze on V and of course V senses it, feels it along with the rapid beating of her heart.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" "Like what?" "Like... like, I dunno. Somethin' cheesy like I put the stars in the sky or somethin'."

So Mi laughed a bit then murmured, "I don't know how else to look at you." V exhaled through her nose and stared at her but didn't reply. "Whether you want to accept it or not, you've got a big heart, V. Don't let anything or anyone take that from you."

"Think you've got me mixed up with someone else."

"No, seriously. You do. Who else would have done what you did for me?"

So Mi couldn't be sure but V's eyes appeared to glisten during their conversation and it seemed to take more effort for the merc's composure to remained rooted in place. The cool mask of stoicism would slip, revealing the softest of smiles left to replace it along with blue-gray eyes that watered slightly but tears refused to breach. The netrunner couldn't help but feel a sense of giddiness, of pride, when she saw it—that softer side of V, the one that could bleed and be vulnerable. The one who sent her to the stars so she could be free.

Poke long enough, you could drill a hole... So Mi thought.

A blanket of calm had fallen over them. A delicate, near-inaudible whisper of, "... I missed you, y'know," then V's throat bobbed as she swallowed the thick lump there that never quite went away. The one made of grief and apprehension.

With anyone else V would have stumbled over those words or just avoided saying them altogether. She was never any good with that sorta thing: being open and emotional. Actions always spoke louder, after all; and sometimes they screamed or they pleaded. What came next was an affirming combination of both words and action but from So Mi this time. As the older woman shifted closer, V turned her body towards So Mi almost out of instinct (physicality was something that did come easy for her) and welcomed the arms that wrapped securely around her shoulders.

Hands came up to gently hold onto one of those arms and it was when their cheeks pressed together that V heaved a soft sigh. When it became apparent that So Mi intended to hold her for a while, the merc was as good as mush in her embrace and she cutely rubbed her cheek against her companion's. "Missed ya too, V. I really did." From their contact, V could feel the smile that tugged at the corners of So Mi's mouth and she decided 'ah, fuck it. what do I have to lose?' before pressing her lips against the periphery of that lovely smile.

There was a pause and then the smile was gone. V had a sheepish apology primed and ready but she was gifted a fuller, more direct kiss instead as So Mi turned her head. The hand on V's cheek guided her into it, her upper lip being held captive between the soft set of another's and a feeling of warmth and tenderness immediately bloomed in her chest. Her senses were flooded with everything So Mi: from how she smelled (hmm... a fusion of floral and what V could only deduce as a scent wonderfully unique to So Mi) to the sweet sapidity of her lips.

V cupped her face to deepen the kiss, their mouths now slanting in a more leisurely manner, the pads of her thumbs brushing along the EMP threading on So Mi's cheeks. The arms around V pulled them closer together and when they broke apart for air, their noses brushed and breaths mingled but only briefly before the two of them were going back in for more. It was like they were making up for every kiss they held back before. For every missed opportunity of one. So Mi had wanted to kiss V after their daring escape from the stadium but didn't, V had wanted to kiss So Mi on that shuttle but hadn't... But it was the fine and intricate workings of fate (or even a stroke of luck) that always brought people together sometimes. Maybe, just maybe, the beast of Night City could chew you up and spit you out but this could make you stronger in the process, make you better than you used to be.

There was hope yet.

[themizzenmask]

Vigil

Super quick stream of consciousness drabble for the single word whump prompt: Vigil

Loki is left in a coma after Thanos’ attack, and only Thor has any hope that he’ll ever wake up again

Thor knew what the others said. He heard Bruce and Dr Strange talking in hushed voices outside the room Thor almost never left.

Brain dead, never wake up, lost cause…dark and unwelcome words found their way to Thor’s ears, but he refused to accept them.

They didn’t know Loki.

They didn’t know how strong he was. How resilient. How stubborn.

Loki would wake up, and he would recover.

It had been three years since Thanos snapped his neck. Three years of Loki clinging to life, never moving more than the constant, shallow, rise and fall of his chest with each weak breath.

For over two of those years, ever since arriving at last on Earth after cleaving the damned titan’s head from his shoulders, Thor had sat vigil at Loki’s bedside day and night.

At first his friends came to keep him company. Reassure him or try to get him to leave. But Thor would never leave.

Loki might be afraid if he left him alone. Thor couldn’t let his little brother be afraid.

Most of them stopped coming eventually.

Brunnhilde ruled what was left of Asgard. The Avengers continued to do what they did.

And Thor stayed here, with Loki, waiting for him to wake up.

Only Bruce Banner ever really came to sit with him now, and he tactfully avoided telling Thor what he thought.

That Loki would never open his eyes again.

Thor wouldn’t have cared if he did say it, because he alone knew Loki, and he knew his trickster brother would survive this.

He was a god. A broken neck wasn’t necessarily a death sentence even to a mortal, and Loki wasn’t a mortal.

He would survive.

Loki’s hand was cold in his, unmoving, but Thor could feel a soft pulse beneath his fingers if he shifted them just slightly to rest over Loki’s thin wrist.

A fine needle penetrated Loki’s arm, delivering nutrients and fluids. Bruce seemed willing to humour Thor even now, and replaced the bag of the solution once a day.

And yet outside the door as he spoke with the other human doctor, he agreed with Dr Strange’s assessment that Loki would never wake again.

He was wrong.

Tears slipped from Thor’s eyes as their pessimistic words once more reached his ears from beyond that door.

They were wrong.

They had to be wrong.

An involuntary sob escaped Thor’s lips as he tightened his hold on Loki’s hand.

They had to be wrong.

A soft pressure returned his.

A slight curling of the fingers in his grasp.

Weak.

Almost imperceptible.

But Thor felt it.

He opened his eyes sharply, looked from their joined hands to Loki’s gaunt and ashen face, and choked on a breathless gasp as he met with familiar green eyes.

Tired, confused, but aware. Looking directly at Thor through a half lidded gaze.

“Loki?!” Thor breathed, unsure whether he dared smile or allow himself to feel the rising sense of uncontainable joy, “Bruce! Bruce! He wakes!!!”

He called out louder than he should. But Loki didn’t flinch or seem to mind.

His hand stayed tight in Thor’s and his eyes remained fixed on him as if there was nothing else to see.

The door opened, footsteps hurried in, and the voices were closer now, talking rapidly.

Thor didn’t hear what they said. He focused on Loki, watching as his brow creased and he briefly looked at Bruce when he spoke gently directly to him.

“Loki. I’m going to ask you some questions. I don’t want you to try to speak. Just blink once for yes, twice for no. Can you do that?”

After a nervewracking pause, Loki blinked once.

“Great,” Bruce smiled, looking quickly back at Dr Strange then to Thor, “Okay. Do you know who this is?”

He gestured slowly to Thor.

Loki didn’t just blink, but ever so slightly arched an eyebrow as well. A small motion but so obviously sarcastic and so Loki that it drew an amused and delighted laugh from Thor. 

“Do you know who I am?”

Loki blinked once.

“You need to check the sensations in his extremities,” Strange murmured.

“I know. I’m going slow. He’s been in a coma for three years,” Bruce whispered harshly back.

Loki didn’t seem to hear, or at least not care, his gaze still on Thor.

“He moved his hand earlier,” Thor looked up at them, understanding they were worried about paralysis, “Squeezed mine when he woke.”

Thor looked back to Loki, “Brother, can you try to move your hand again?”

Loki’s brow creased, eyes tightening, and after a long moment, his fingers moved in Thor’s hand again.

“That’s great,” Bruce smiled nervously, but it sounded like he was truly pleased, “Can you move the other one?”

Thor couldn’t see his other hand, but after a few minutes, he nodded, confirming Loki had moved.

But then they asked him to move his feet.

Neither foot moved at all.

Bruce bit his lip, and pressed one of his toes between a pen and his finger, “Can you feel this, Loki?”

Loki’s brow furrowed but he blinked once.

“Does it feel at all numb?” Strange asked.

Another single blink.

Bruce glanced back at Dr Strange, something silent understood by both.

“What is wrong?” Thor asked nervously.

“It’s too early to say,” Bruce replied, “We’ll just have to keep an eye on things.”

He turned back to Loki, whose gaze had once again turned exhausted and fallen on Thor.

“Loki, are you in any pain?”

Loki didn’t respond, but he tightened his hand in Thor’s.

He was, but he didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t admit to pain or fear or any feeling Odin would have deemed weak.

Thor caught Bruce’s gaze and adopted the communication method himself, blinking once to tell the doctor what Loki didn’t dare voice. He was in pain.

“I’m going to make up a new IV fluid. Something that might be more helpful now you’re awake,” Bruce smiled kindly at Loki, “For now, don’t try to speak or move too much. Take your time.”

With that, he left the room, ushering Strange out and they resumed their conversation outside as they walked away down the corridor.

Thor heard nothing of hopelessness now. Discussions of future and how to proceed and treatment and assessments, not of death anymore.

He turned back to Loki with a grin he couldn’t contain, tears slipping from his eyes.

He clasped the pale hand in both of his and kissed his knuckles lightly, his whole body trembling with emotion he could barely contain.

Too much emotion to contain. He was certain he must be altering the weather right now and he didn’t give a damn.

He shut his eyes as more tears fell from them and kissed Loki’s hand once more.

A tiny, rasping, almost inaudible voice drifted through the silence, uttering the single word, “Eye.”

Questioning. Thor had only one eye when Loki last saw him. That would take some explaining and Thor had no heart to even think of the past right now. He cared only for the present and the reality of Loki finally waking, proving everyone who doubted his strength wrong.

Thor swallowed back a sob, smiling down at Loki and brushing a hand through his long hair, untucked from the rigid neck brace that contained him.

“Bruce told you not to speak yet,” he chastised gently.

Every word in Loki’s reply was hoarse and breathless, barely there at all, but Thor heard each one as he listened with adoring attention to every minute sound that passed Loki’s lips.

“I do what I want Thor.”

[erwinsmithsmissingleftarm]

Your imagines are all a girl could need <3

Okay so picture you and Reiner in the THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED trope

You’re not together yet, but in this situation he just cannot keep his hands to himself

You just wanted a black hole to swallow you whole.

You were actually lying in bed with the man you had a huge crush on for years. You don't even know how it really happened, you two just stopped at a small hostel after a long mission, tired and simply wishing for a good night of sleep. Neither of you or Reiner could know that the only room available for this night would have a single bed. Just one bed for both of you. That surprise was only discovered when you already paid for the room and entered inside.

"There must be a mistake, there can't be just one bed, right?"

Oh boy how fast you came to the conclusion that no, you would have to sleep together. At first, Reiner said he could sleep on the floor and leave the bed for you but you refused. How can you let the poor and exhausted man sleep on the hard and cold floor? It's not like the idea of sleeping with Reiner did not please you. On the contrary, god only knows how many times you imagined yourself into his strong and gentle embrace. Not just in the sexual way, just a hug was enough to make you happy. That's why now that your bodies are very close, almost touching each other, you feel the lump excitement in your stomach grow. It is useless to say that you could not close your eyes, the sensation of warmth spreading through your belly.

You are so close to him... a single move and your skin enter in contact with his. You feel him turn around; the bed slightly cracking. Are you crazy or you can feel his breath on your neck? Next thing you know, his hands slowly wrap around your waist, pressing your back against his chest.

"Reiner?" You ask.

Your voice is not louder than a whisper, being careful to not wake up the man in case he is just clingy in his sleep and does not realize what he is doing. However, he replies with a low grunt showing that he is half-asleep. A few second later, his hand slide up to cup one of your breasts. A shiver runs down your spine as his big hand squeeze your chest, making you moan.

"Reiner..." You say louder, dragging him out of his sleep.

You can't see his face but by the way that he immediately removes his arms show that he is deeply embarrassed.

"Oh my god- I'm so sorry!"

Turning your head to the side, you see his mortified face. Reiner is clearly shocked and angry after himself. He is about to let out another apology when you shush him with your finger.

"That's fine."

Reiner's eyes almost popped out of his head when those words came out of your mouth. Who would be okay with being touched by another person (who is not his partner but a friend!)? You quickly turn red, feeling like you have to explain yourself. There is not 34 ways to say it so you just go with the most easy and honest one.

"I mean... I like you. I have a crush on you since we were just graduating from the training camp. So, I... do not dislike your touch."

The next few seconds are the longest ones of your life. You either get rejected and gross Reiner out forever or you actually get lucky and maybe get him as your boyfriend. The silence is killing you, your eyes focusing on the other's.

"I... like you too."

His words hit you like a truck, your brain freezing. Did he really just confessed that your feelings are mutual? A sensation of euphoria wash over you as he shyly hugs you. You just lay there, in each other's arms and smiling. Soon your lips finds his and you share a slow kiss, his hands creep back under your shirt.

You kept your clothes one before going to bed but now you gladly accept his fingers unclasping your bra. You press your bare chest against his, a bit self-conscious at the beginning but you forget about it as soon as his lips touch your neck. You fantasmed about him for so long and now everything was happening so fast! His lips leave a bruning trail to your chest, leaving hickeys on your boobs before his mouth go farther to the south. Reiner removes your pants, pushing your completely wet panties to the side.

A moan escape your lips as his tongue tease your clitoris, licking your moist cunt. His hands keep your legs spread while he eats you out, each of your sounds giving Reiner more confidence. Your back arches and your legs shake without control, the loop of pleasure present in your stomach tightening. A few moments later, you push your hips off the bed as you orgasm, your eyes rolling at the back of your head. You only hear the sound of his pant's zipper and you know, it's only the beginning.

A smile curl your lips, Reiner is yours.

[thisiskatsblog]

Copy pasta is passing that old list of all larries bloggers. There are more than 50 people in the group and they started with about 20. They see that it is working. That popular larries and louies bloggers have deleted or closed their asks box and refuse any discussion. There are only two discussion blogs answering new larries right now and copy pasta bully them and send fake asks all the time. They won't stop until they force all the larries bloggers on that list to go silent or delete.

To be fair, I think it’s not only the bullying that makes some people leave. Babygate and Harry’s stunts are equally disencouraging for those who were here back in the days when they were fighting the closet and it seemed like there may be a point when they’d come out and we’d feel vindicated. At the time that distant hope would have made it easier to deal with the bullies.

Right now it seems like it is no longer Harry’s or Louis’ wish to come out any time soon, there are far fewer signs also of their sexuality and/or relationship if it’s still alive, and so the certainty you have as a someone who believes they are/were together is that you will not be proven right any time soon.

And to be clear: it doesn’t even matter if you are solidly of the conviction that it is Harry and Louis’ right to come out whenever they want, if they even want to. I mean, it matters what you think, and that them having the right to choose whether and when to come out is the only ethical position in this.

But even when that is your position and you can accept it, the current situation where there is “no end in sight” is really not going to encourage you to be louder or to fight harder against the bullies.

At some point you’re going to say, well they get to choose whether and when to come out, and I can choose to leave and not deal with this shit because they aren’t going to bail us out of this shit any time soon by the looks of it.

And that’s a choice Harry and Louis are making. They needed us then and used the power of the “rebellion”. And now they are in a different place, they do not need us anymore, and they are choosing to watch us leave one by one.

It’s the reality. I am not happy with it, I would have wanted it to be different for myself, for my friends, for all the LGBTQ people in this fandom I wish it was different. But I can accept that this is their life and their choice and so I will accept the negative consequences that choice has for me.

I know I was right about certain things, I know what I am worth and I know I can leave any time I want. And I choose to stay - or watch it all from a bit of distance more like. Check in once in a while to see if the rainbows have survived, if LGBTQ kids are feeling alright here.

[erotic-meloncholy]

House’s reaction breakdown in “I need you to tell me you love me” speech

Like the rest of this fandom, I will never recover from this moment.

House has a record for giving Wilson what he wants no matter how impossible the request.

Which is why this scene is so heartbreaking.

Wilson, the person that House has said over and over and over again exudes neediness, eats it, lives for it, is finally coming to House and asking him to give Wilson back what he's been giving House all these years: This time I need you. I need to know you’re there. And I need to know that you love me too. 

And House. Oh my sweet baby love, it’s like a dam has burst. You can see it in his face after Wilson’s speech, in his heavy breathing, in his red rimmed teary eyes how much he wants to give Wilson all those assurances.

He wants to say all those things because he's always felt them.

He’s always given Wilson anything he wants, and this is something he wants to give him more than anything. And you can see the abject distress on House’s face when for the first time ever he won’t give Wilson not only what Wilson is begging from him to hear, but what House so desperately wants to say. And when they both need it the most.

Tell his dying best friend that he loves him and would never leave him. It’s the one thing he’s denied to Wilson. And the hesitation he takes is so full of anguish. The moment Wilson asked House to tell him he loves him, it's all House wanted to do. He struggles because he wants to say it. It's instinctual to give Wilson something he wants.

He battles with himself to tell him "yes I love you" but ultimately decides not to. And you can see how it hurts him to go against everything their relationship has stood for for House to deny Wilson anything like this. It's painful.

It’s the pain of saying ‘no’ for the first time. The pain of saying no to the person he needs the most in this world.

And the pain of hurting the only person that he's terrified of losing.

And the hurt we saw--The amount of vulnerability that it took for Wilson to ask for House to tell him he loves him, and his face when House tells him no. Look at that face. That's the look of someone who just painstakenly poured their heart out, needing to hear that he's loved by the person he loves.

And the look of crushing disappointment when he's denied that is heartbreaking.

But House can’t say it. Because if he does then it means they're really facing the end. That he actually might lose his best friend. And if those things that went unsaid for all those years finally came to light then that means there really is no hope. And House can’t say it. He’ll refuse to say it until he accepts it.

So he gets out of the car, and leaves Wilson. Which is so painful to walk away from the person you love who’s telling you they need you now more than ever. But House leaves him because the alternative is staying and accepting reality. Which is why he might never say I love you.

But actions speak louder than words. And giving up your way of life to join the remainder of someone else's is literally the definition of marriage.

That's also love. Wilson knows that. They both do. ❤

[starlightshadowsworld]

Mama's Boy Part 2

Part 1

What no one realised was just how big of an impact Jason's death would have on him.

Sure it was tragic for one so young to fall the way he did. But Jason was a demigod.

It was always going to end this way. He knew that more than anyone.

But that knowledge didn't make it easier. For Jason, for the boy not the soilder who always dreamed.

Of growing old, of having a family to call his own.

To love someone so deeply and dearly in a way he'd never been loved.

He didn't regret what he did, of course he didn't. He had to save his friends, it was a no brainer.

But that was easier to say in the moment. It was easy in the heat of the moment to push forward and take the fatal blow.

To lay down your life for those you love. But the thing about death is that all souls would end up accepting the fate they'd be dealt with.

Imagine the underworld overrun with souls who demanded they didn't belong their, there would be chaos.

It was why souls often became stuck, becoming akin to photographs.

A fleeting moment captured out of a whole life time. Through losing a lot of what made them, well them through their memories.

It made them content, happy and at peace with their new life.

Even if it made the light in the fade.

And if that was what happened to Jason, he would have been okay.

Afterall Jason wasn't the first to lay down his life for others. Wasn't the first who had dreams that had been cut down so brutally.

But what made his case different, is that his memories had already been meddled with in life.

When a soul enters the afterlife any curse, any magic they'd been hit with loses its touch.

Including something inflicted upon them by the Queen of Olympus herself.

In doing so, Jason did not fade like the others did.

If anything he brightened, shone like starlight in the night sky. Where other souls lost parts of themselves and lived in blissful peace and ignorance.

Jason regained what he'd lost. Memory after memory flooded through his mind.

He saw Thalia shushing him gently as his mother drowned herself deeper in her bottle.

The rain fell outside, lighting illuminating the figure of his mother.

It occurred to Jason than that other than her spirit, Jason hadn't known what his mother looked like.

And here she was. Beryl cursed at the lighting before putting her drink down, she scooped Jason out of Thalia's arms.

Her movements were sluggish but her smile was kind.

Even Thalia seemed to calm a little at the gentleness of their mother, it wouldn't last but it was one the Grace siblings soaked up.

He began to cry as the storm grew louder. Beryl softened. "Do not cry my little sunshine. You you see that? Your father is saying hi, this is his way of showing his love to you."

The bundle in her arms began to calm, flailing his limbs in something that could be interpreted as a wave. Thalia laughed and Beryl chuckled, holding him close.

Jason's heart ached, the family he'd always longed for... He had once had it.

More memories of his home life flashed before him. Some kind, some not so. Some with smiles and others with tears.

Jason traced the scar on his lip as he watched his younger self get it. Smiling in amusement as Thalia chastised him.

And than it changed.

Beryl mother was crying, her make up a mess. Their were monsters at the window and she was shaking.

He was in her arms and Beryl held him close. "Please... Please make this stop. I'll do anything but... Not my Jason."

She looked down at him, kissing his head gently. "We'll be okay sweetie."

But the monsters didn't stop, nor did the calls of who Jason recognised now as Hera.

Telling Beryl that her torment would end if she gave up her son.

And over and over his mother refused.

But she was only human, and one day she laid him on the forest floor with tears in her eyes.

"Lady Juno just said for a moment okay. I'll be right back sweetie, I promise."

Even when she walked away she couldn't stop looking back.

Tears welled up in Jason's eyes as he watched the wolves come for him.

... She hadn't wanted to give him up.

She had loved him. Jason thought it was some kind of trick of her spirit but...

... She had really loved him. His mother hadn't lied to him, she always intended on coming back.

She did what they asked, she followed the rules and she had every intention of coming back for him. And they'd stolen him from her.

"Stop!"

Jason could only watch as he was dragged wailing and screaming to the Wolf House.

See the way that Lupa regarded him as nothing but a means to an end.

"Please!"

He watched himself change from a sweet bright eyed baby to a wild child who's teeth were sharpened and had the instincts to rival an actual wolf.

How Lupa drilled into his mind that he must be self sufficient.

That if he failed her tests she would kill him.

Young Jason learning to hide his fear, being berated for having such weaknesses and crying silently in the dark.

With only the moon to comfort him as no one else would.

Than he was in Camp Jupiter, every camper looking at him in disgust for his wolf behaviour.

Only looking at him favourably when Jupiter claimed him.

Jason could only watch as they changed him, crushed the wild ways he was taught and forced him into becoming a steely eyed child soilder who obeyed every rule.

And yet rebelled to look out for the overlooked campers.

None of them looked at him twice though.

No matter how much he was punished and mocked.

Jason had only wanted to befriend and care for others... And look where it got him.

Could he truly believe that Apollo would remember? That even if he did something would be done?

Especially when Jupiter/Zeus had all the power and he didn't care for his youngest son at all.

No one had ever cared about Jason before. Only using him as a means to an end, they stole him from the life he had dreamed from.

They had stolen his memories, beat him and moulded him into whatever they wished.

Be it monster or hunter.

... No, no his friends wouldn't forget him so easily. But if a diety made them forget their was nothing they could do.

Everyone had forgetten him once before, replaced him as Praetor and never searched for him.

Nico could summon him whenever be wanted to and he hadn't.

He probably didn't need Jason around anymore, everyone out grew him at some point anyway.

Jason curled up into a ball, willing the tears away and yet they couldn't stop falling.

What else had been hidden from him? How many lives had he lived only to lose them and be turned into something to fit an idea?

... Who was he?..

His sadness turned to anger. And little did he know it started to infect into his soul.

It shouldn't have been to much of a suprise, Jason had always resembled his mother more than his father.

But not even Nico could have seen this coming.

[artsysurvivor]

Just some head-canons and a mini story about a variation of the trans!Halt AU. (Day 27, Struggle)

TW for transphobia, implied abuse, and gender dysphoria.

Ferris, until around 9 years old, was accepting of Halt, but he was also annoyed because he kept stealing his clothes. Their parents however did not accept this and taught them that the feelings of Halt being a boy were invalid, and to not be tempted by the Devil.

So for many years, Halt shoved down his feelings about being the future Queen. (Whenever it was said, there was a nagging doubt in the back of his mind, shushed over and over again).

When he got older, and started experiencing puberty, the thoughts became louder. As his breasts started to develop, he had to wear a corset. He hated it, because it emphasized his hips, and cupped his breasts. The corsets had one positive though - they stopped them from jiggling, which felt immensely dysphoric.

This is also part of the reason why he refused a servant's help beyond tying the corset, and when in his pajamas, he would wear bandages around his chest.

Another point of dysphoria for him was his hair. He had been feeling more dysphoric than normal for around a month. One day, during the evening after his lessons were done with access to scissors, he cut his hair. It had reached to about his hips, but was now the length of Ferris's hair. (While the decision was impulsive, right before cutting it shorter, he had a nagging thought that it would land him in less trouble if he cut it to Ferris's length).

While that may have been true, it sure didn't feel like it.

After a late night of consequence, when he was sure his parents wouldn't see him, he grabbed a cloak and ran outside. His mind was so full, yet so empty at the same time. He was looking for any sort of release, a break from... well, everything.

For years, there was an abandoned cottage in the woods, spider webs forming on the corners, vines beginning to wind up the sides. If he was alert, he would've noticed that those things were gone, the dust on the windows had parted into the wind.

He did notice, after trying the knob, that the door was locked.

A sharp, frustrated sigh escaped his lips, a slight growl along with it. He turned around, only to be met with a shadowy figure that looked down upon him.

"What are you doing here?" came the deep yet wispy voice.

Halt straightened his back and looked up at the man, keeping his face impassive. "Who's asking?"

"The owner of the cabin," they said.

Halt squinted, recalling the improvements he had saw on the way here. He cursed himself for not being able to connect the dots. "I was exploring the woods," he glanced to where the stranger's saxe knife. "I mean you no harm."

The stranger smirked underneath his cowl as if to say, you wouldn't be able to anyway.

They looked up and studied the sky for a moment. "This isn't a good time to be exploring now is it? There's a lot of criminal activity around at this time."

"I'm aware."

"So...? What is your business, then?"

Halt scoffed. "I could ask you the same thing. Why aren't you in the cabin?"

They studied eachother for a moment. Then, the figure clicked their tongue.

"If I tell you my reasoning, would you tell me yours?"

"No."

"Well, I guess that solves that. But you really should be at home, kid."

Home. His stomach twisted at the thought, his throat turning dry.

The figure tilted their head. "Where are you from?"

Halt put his mouth into a fine line. There was a surprising amount of gentleness from that voice, but he couldn't tell why it turned to that all of a sudden. "I'm not comfortable with sharing that."

The stranger nodded. "Fair enough. Are you comfortable with telling me your name?"

"..."

"No? Well, you can call me Pritchard," Pritchard pulled down his hood, showing his light grey hair and discolored blue eyes. "If you want, I can bring you something to eat."

Halt grunted. "Alright. What is it you want?"

Pritchard looked at him questioningly. Halt stared at him in reply.

"I want to help you—honestly," he said after Halt narrowed his eyes. He sighed. "Well, what do you want, kid?"

If he saw what Pritchard saw, he would see a blank expression, and empty, deep brown eyes. On the inside, however, it was anything but, with many different scenarios running through his head. The thought of home made him feel nauseous; the thought of having to stay here, with a stranger, made him anxious; the thought of himself, what he was, made him confused; the thought of Caitlyn, the thought of Ferris...

The thought of his father.

"Actually, I think..." His voice lowered, making Pritchard lean in a little to hear him. "I think some food would be nice, please, sir."

Oddly, Pritchard seemed relieved.

[badpancakelol]

another little snippit from my newest chapter!!

-- -- --

“So,” Gareth drawls. “Who’s the mystery person?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Eddie’s starting to think that Gareth calling him up to be his ride to the mall is all just a ruse to corner and question him. 

“Dude. You’re like, blushing right now.”

“I am not!” Eddie, despite his steadfast refusal, still checks in the mirrors if he is.

Gareth huffs and bands his head back against the headrest, “You’re actually so full of shit, you know that? Those lyrics, Eddie, there’s no way there isn’t someone you’re pining over right now.”

“I’m not telling you who they are.”

“So there is a person?” Gareth sits up, and in his periphery, Eddie can see Gareth turn to face him, with the most shit eating grin that he’s ever seen. “Tina? Edith? Tommy? But not that Tommy. Kris?  Heather? You know I’m just gonna name everyone until I see even a slight reaction, right?”

Gareth rattles off names, and they all blur into one, but then he’s getting down to the end of the list, and the mall is coming closer, and he hasn’t said Steve’s name yet. And, Eddie doesn’t think that Gareth does it subconsciously, but he’s listed the names in such a way that actually starts from most acceptable to people like them, and slowly getting into unknown and terrifying territory. Like, all of the band kids are listed before a name from the basketball team is even uttered.

“That Tommy? Jason? Billy? Please, for the love of god, don’t tell me it’s Billy—”

“It’s not Billy.” Eddie bites out. “It’s—”

He mumbles the name. Mumbles it so quiet, because his heart is beating in his chest, and Gareth has listed names of girls and boys, and maybe it’s because he was really just going through every second, third, and just graduated students, but Eddie really, really, hopes it’s for a different reason.

“What was that?”

He mumbles it again, says it a bit louder this time, but it’s muffled by the sound of him unbuckling his seatbelt, and ushering Gareth out of the safety of the van, and then they’re walking into the mall, and Gareth has a look on his face, one that Eddie knows he is wearing too, that says you know exactly who.

[naurielrochnur]

Realm of the Elderlings Ask Meme Thing

Thanks for the tag @tragediegh

Favorite Rote Book: Its a tie between Assassin's Quest and Fool's Fate

Why: Assassin's Quest because I became very invested in Fitz's recovery/lack thereof after his torture and death. The end of Royal Assassin felt like the end of a chapter in his life, and it was equal parts fascinating and heartbreaking to see the how Fitz grew as a character, and yet fell victim to himself in very familiar ways. Assassin's Quest is the first time that Fitz is not wholly tied to Buckkeep (at least for the first half of the book), so I really enjoyed watching him make decisions for himself. I am also a HUGE fan of characters that soldier on despite hardship, and that describes Fitz in this book very well.

Fools Fate because OH BOY is that book an emotional wrecking ball and I love to hurt my own feelings. Fitz grows a lot as a person throughout Tawny Man, but he really develops in Fools Fate. The progression of his relationship with Beloved is incredibly satisfying and heartbreaking. I also enjoyed how Fitz finally learned that he can both love Burrich and admit that he was harmed by Burrich's strict governing of the Wit during his childhood. I love the lore and word building of this book (who doesn't love dragons?)

Top Three Favorite Characters: Fitz, Web, and Beloved.

Top Three Least Favorite Characters: Keffria, Sintara, Tats

Favorite Ship (of the floating kind): Tarman without a doubt.

Top Three Favorite Ships (of the people kind): I'm very much so not a romantic shipper, so this is hard. I guess I'll say Fitz and Beloved, but in a queer platonic, messy, and confusing sort of way, Amber and Jek, and Patience and Lacey

Would you rather be Witted or Skilled? Witted

If you were Witted, what animal would you bond with? Some sort of cat, or maybe a ferret? Or perhaps a kestrel. Also, a fox would be cool, as would a corvid. I've thought way too hard about animals I would like to be bonded with and its only made me more unsure.

How were you introduced to the books? I was looking for some books to read in the summer of 2023, and I remembered that I read the three Fitz centric trilogies back in 2018 and really enjoyed them. I was not at my most mentally healthy at that stage of my life, and so could remember next to nothing of what happened, but one thing I DID remember was that while reading those books, I was able to fully fall into them and concentrate on the story. I wasn't able to fully lose myself like that with any other book at that point in my life, so I decided they were worth a reread when I could more fully appreciate them.

Share a quote you love:

"Men do not grieve as dogs do, buy they grieve for many years." -Assassin's Apprentice

That passage never fails to bring tears to my eyes.

“Not being able to think of a reply is not the same thing as accepting another's words.” -Assassin's Quest

Its so silly but this quote makes me cry. I often have trouble replying to people, particularly when I don't agree with them, and so it can be distressing to know I have something to say and yet not be able to form the words. Its extremely comforting to see that sentiment actually acknowledged.

It was a long journey, in the cold and the dark. Somewhere I could hear a whimpering, and I despised myself for that, too. But as I scraped myself along, it grew, as a spark in the distance becomes a fire as one approaches. It refused to be ignored. It grew louder in my mind, a whining against my fate, a tiny voice of resistance that forbade that I should die, that denied my failure. It was warmth and light, too, and it grew stronger and stronger as I tried to find its source.

I stopped.

I lay still.

It was inside me. The more I sought it, the stronger it grew. It loved me. Loved me even if I couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t love myself. Loved me even if I hated it. It set its tiny teeth in my soul and braced and held so that I couldn’t crawl any farther. And when I tried, a howl of despair burst from it, searing me, forbidding me to break so sacred a trust.

It was Smithy. He cried with my pains, physical and mental. And when I stopped struggling toward the wall, he went into a paroxysm of joy, a celebration of triumph for us. And all I could do to reward him was to lie still and no longer attempt to destroy myself. And he assured me it was enough, it was a plenitude, it was a joy. I closed my eyes. -Assassin's Apprentice

This quote resonates with me in ways I find hard to describe. Even when I was at the my worst mentally, suffering from a severe eating disorder that cascaded into severe depression, there was always at least teeny part of me that wanted me to live. It was the small, basal lizard brain that cared only for biological survival, but it was there. Eventually, after a long time and a lot of therapy, I learned to listen to that voice. I learned that the voice in my head driving me crazy over thoughts of food--the voice that I hated just as much as I hated myself--was only there because it wanted me to stop killing myself. I learned to appreciate the part of my brain that cared enough about me to sink its teeth into my mind and never let go. Through that appreciation I learned to love that voice. Through love for that voice, I learned how to start loving myself the way it loved me; fiercely, protectively, and wholly accepting. A part of me cared SO much about my survival, thought I was worth an immense effort to keep alive, and all that was within me. This quote puts to words that struggle that I felt. I had a Smithy within me all along, and that little creature saved my life.

[coffeeheartaddict2]

Everybody hurts sometimes (12/18)

Crash

Book: Open Heart (AU)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC a Casey Valentine

Featuring: Naveen Banerji, Alan Ramsey, Tobias Carrick.

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption

*****trigger warning- this series deals with issues of abandonment and addiction*****

Category: Angst

Rating: Mature

Word count: 1841

Summary: Ethan is still haunted by Louise’s overdose and his self destructive behaviours continue, not only harming him but others. Casey makes a decision that adds to Ethan’s self doubt.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry

Authors note: have your comfort food ready pretty much from here to chapter 16. It will be confronting and quite the spiral that Ethan goes through.

🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃

It has been a week since Louise left Edenbrook and Ethan was still confronted. Everyone seemed convinced that he should have spoken to her and see what she had to say for herself, even after all this time but he did not want to know, with her actions, to him anyway speaking louder than any words could.

Ethan’s life fast became a cycle of work, drink, sleep. The only variation being when Casey came over in which the heavier drinking moved until after she was asleep.

He managed to successfully hide it for a few weeks but after a month and a bit of this cycle, those who cared and loved him the most were concerned.

Naveen recognised the signs quickly but gave Ethan time to sort things out himself. When that did not occur he came over, on a day when he knew Casey was not there.

“What is wrong Ethan?”

Nothing is wrong?”

“You can not fool me Ethan, I remember how wracked with grief I was when Priya passed.”

“I am fine Naveen!” As Ethan took another drink of scotch.

“No, you are not. I know you have always been work focussed but lately you have been more possessed than normal and I am sorry but you are also not doing a good job of hiding your drinking as you think. You looked less disheveled when you were putting in the long hours whilst I was dying.”

“I’m fine” said Ethan, voiced laced with emotion.

“Don’t go pushing people away Ethan, it is exactly what she did. Me, your father, Casey. We all love you and want to see you healed.”

“I wish people would accept my decisions. If you are not going to then please leave me be.”

Naveen was affronted. He had never seen Ethan like this and he knew that Ethan was indeed lying to himself but he left.

When Naveen arrived home he called Alan and told him of his meeting with Ethan. Alan was saddened. Alan confided that he had been on the outer with Ethan since Louise first made contact. Naveen asked Alan if Louise had given any indication as to why she left or did not reach out herself. Alan stated that she had not, she understood why I was leaving the ball in Ethan’s court. I mean I was shocked that she reached out after all this time and also shocked she was an addict.

“Was she not addicted to anything?”

“Work, she loved her job and she worked really hard, Louise is who Ethan got his workaholic tendencies from.”

“Well if his level of drinking recently is anything to go by then it is not the only addictive behaviour he has picked up.

Alan shook his head, well let’s hope history does not repeat.”

Naveen nodded in agreement.

Ethan’s relationship with Naveen was not the only casualty. Ethan had not been able to say I love you to Casey since Louise. It did not bother Casey at first, she knew that Ethan much preferred to show her he loved her in other ways but the lack of verbal confirmation was starting to bug her. He still refused to talk about what happened and how it was impacting him now. Even though he appeared to not drink excessively when he was awake, she would feel him leave the bed and come back smelling like a distillery. She knew drinking and even avoiding via sex was unhealthy but she was not sure how to even begin broaching the topic.

It was a week later after his chat with Alan that Naveen met with Casey in his office. The last time Casey was here she was requesting an Ethics Hearing after admitting to Harper that she gave the medication to Mrs Martinez.

“You are not in trouble Casey, please come in.”

“Thank you Naveen.” Said Casey, feeling a little more at ease.

“I am worried about Ethan, Casey”

“I am too Naveen. He has not been able to say I love you since Louise left the hospital, he does not drink to excess when I am awake but I know he gets up during the night.”

Naveen was saddened to hear this.

“I know he was hurt badly by her actions, I get not wanting to reach out but he was so confronted with her here and clearly he never healed from the trauma. I know he feels like he is unlovable but he is just self fulfilling a prophecy right now.”

“I understand, when my sister Priya died, I was a mess, she had cancer, I did get to say goodbye to her in person and it hurt. Deep down I knew she understood and we did speak before she passed but not seeing her, not being able to do much from afar…”

“I wish he would talk about it but I do not know how to broach the subject with him, Naveen. I have always known there was anger there but this is a whole new level.”

Naveen nodded, “Ethan has always kept Alan at arms length but even he has been pushed further away.”

“I feel for Alan, not only been pushed away but after all this time, your wife finally reaches out and all she wants is to speak to Ethan.”

“Did you speak to her whilst she was here?”

“No, out of respect for Ethan’s privacy though I wish I did.”

“You have been good for him Casey. I hope he does not push you away.”

“Me too” said Casey sadly. Casey left, saddened that Naveen appeared to be on the outer. Then she thought about how Ethan had been with her especially lately and she wondered too if she was indeed been pushed away.

She had late shifts the next few days then a day off. She decided that on the night before her day off she would see Ethan. It was late and possibly not the best time to have this conversation but the longer she left it the harder it was going to be.

She let herself into the building and made her way to his apartment. She used her key to let herself into his apartment. Ethan was awake but not sobre. He was not expecting the door to open and he was confused and became surprised quickly when he saw Casey.

“I did not expect to see you” slurred Ethan.

“You are drunk” stated Casey.

“I am fine…”

“No Ethan you are not.” Casey took a deep breath. “You have not been fine since she came into the ED.”

“Casey…”he walks over to kiss her but Casey takes a step back.

“No Ethan, we are going talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about!” Exclaimed Ethan

“Nothing too…” Casey throws her hands in the air in disbelief.

“The fact you think there is nothing to talk about is the issue.” Casey takes a few breaths . “I get the anger, if someone walked out for no reason and did not contact me again I would be upset too, but how is pushing those who love you and care about you helpful?”

“I am not pushing anyone…”

“Yes you are Ethan, ever since she has left you have pushed not only Naveen but also me away”

“No I have not pushed you…”

“How have you not pushed me away? Tell me. You can not even say I love you, or I care about you, I have started to feel used after we have sex, you sneak out of bed to drink…again Ethan, how have you not pushed me away?”

“I am not feeling loved Casey, how do you expect me to say I love you?”

“Therapy, I don’t know, confront Louise, find out why she left you, the answers are not in scotch and sex, you went through trauma Ethan.”

“That woman left me for drugs,pure and simple…”

“You do not know for sure Ethan, the addiction could have come later.”

“It does not negate the fact that she fucking walked out that door with no explanation no nothing!”

“That is on her, not you, you rose above it then but you aren’t now and it is killing the relationships that I know mean more than anything to you.”

“I am not ruining…”

“Yes you are Ethan, the longer you don’t properly address the issues, the more damage you are doing. I want to be here for you truly but if you can not accept the help and love from me, Naveen, hell even your own father then I can not stay. I’m sorry Ethan but I can not do us anymore if you keep down this self destruction.”

Ethan is a tumult of emotions but anger wins out.

“Then get the fuck out of my apartment.”

Casey tosses her key on the bench and walks out.

When Casey shuts the door, his anger turns to sorrow.

“Fuck” he tells as he throws a tumbler across the room. He collapses onto the floor and cries. He eventually gets up and gets another drink to numb the extra pain he is in.

Casey manages to make it to the lift before letting her tears loose. She knew deep down she loved him but she knew that she was going to get hurt more if she stayed. She made her way to her apartment. Aurora came home at the same time, surprised to see Casey. They head up. Casey telling Aurora the gist of what has been happening. Aurora asked what she was going to do about her residency. Casey said she did not know right now.

Casey went to bed and Aurora messaged Tobias stating Casey is wanting to look for a new residency, can we fit her in at Kenmore.

Tobias had to do a double take.

“What the fuck did you do Ethan” he muttered to himself.

Tobias then messaged Aurora that he would speak to the chief first thing.

Later that morning Aurora got a text from Tobias stating to come in early and bring Casey to meet with Dr McRae.

Aurora told Casey and she was appreciative. They met with Dr McRae and she was impressed. Casey was to continue her residency at Mass Kenmore. She was to start the following Monday and even said she would get the ball rolling with Naveen.Casey was appreciative.

Later that evening Naveen contacted Casey. He expressed sadness at her leaving. Casey said she had to, she explained how she confronted Ethan and how he was in denial of everything and how she ended it. Naveen was saddened but understood.

Naveen then sent an email to the team advising of Casey’s transfer. Ethan received the email. He read it but he was too numb. On a base level he knew Casey was right, he was pushing people away but he was scared of that fact that they may not indeed be there at the end of the healing so he did what he did to cope and that was to have another drink.

——-

Authors note: do we hate me yet???? Those who have seen my outline know that this is not the end of the spiral. But again happy ending. Next chapter there is a slight reprieve.

For those who have endured thank you

Tagging: @jerzwriter @jamespotterthefirst @cariantha @genevievemd @alj4890 @tessa-liam @potionsprefect @youlookappropriate @trappedinfanfiction @bex-la-get @crazy-loca-blog @a-crepusculo @ofmischiefandmedicine @liaromancewriter @schnitzelbutterfingers @binny1985 @lucy-268

@openheartfanfics

@choicesficwriterscreations

[away-ward]

It might be too late to make this joke, but if I had a nickle for every time a girl spent time at a theme park with a boy that liked her entirely too much just before she broke his heart...

I'd have (at least) two nickles.

Below the cut is me discussing the music during the break-up scene.

The music in this scene was interesting to me, and kept catching my attention on my second watch. I think if followed Thyme's emotional journey as the scene progressed. I really want to talk about it, but I'm not knowledgeable enough to convey all my ideas, so bear with me as I give a weak analysis.

The scene starts with a soft piano. Thyme's in denial, and rightly so. He knows in his heart that Gorya would only say something like this if his mother had gotten to him.

It gets louder, stressed, as he pushes her to admit the truth. During the flashbacks with Gorya and his mom, the music builds and builds, because Thyme is waiting for her to tell him the truth. It stops when Gorya pushes herself to do the hard thing

Even then, Thyme can't believe it. When the music starts again, it's lighter, more hopeful. Money isn't the issue. He has so much faith in Gorya that whatever she saw in him, it was never his money.

Again, the music trails off as he waits for what Gorya will say. He hopes that she'll see reason; that she'll believe in him. They can fix it together. He just has to convince her he's strong enough.

It goes silent for a beat, before rushing in as Gorya puts another nail in the coffin.

It's back to the sad piano as Thyme starts to lose hope; lose his mind. As Gorya continues to drive home the point, the music becomes almost mournful as his heart first begins to splinter. Gorya lists all the things she's had to endure while under the burden of his love, and the truth starts to sink in.

Who would endure all that for him?

Still, he refuses to accept it. All he needs is for her to tell him the truth - that she really does love him - and then everything will be fine. He needs to hear that she's lying because of something his mother die.

He needs her to love him.

Finally, what Gorya's telling him is real. The music dies down again as Thyme's anger overflows. The music returns again as he's temper pushes him to act aggressively towards her. The sound is darker, as Thyme reverts to his old behavior.

I believe, based on the music, this is the first true crack as his heart breaks.

(side note: Gorya is so stone-cold through this entire scene. She knew just what to say, and though I know it broke her heart to do it, I bought it, hook, line, and sinker.)

After Thyme throws his tantrum (no shade. I don't know how I'd react in that situation, but I would probably be a crying mess too. I just don't know what else to call it), the music has changed once again. Gone are the pianos. Something darker as taken over.

And this is the second crack.

The music changes again when he asks her if she's ever seen him as an ordinary person. Thyme fully believes what Gorya's told him and his heart is broken.

It doesn't matter if she tries to make it easier on him. Nothing matters

Anyway. It's a sad scene, and I wasn't sure how to break it up or what to bring out, because my mind kept shifting back to the music and those moments where the changes were notable, and relating it back to Thyme.

if you made it this far...thanks? also, what are you doing?