#*strangling the part of me that says ‘good fucking riddance’* we are all made in his image and they too are my brethren.

[rpd-rookie]

What Does The ‘S’ Stand For ? - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary: When you learn that Leon got the job you desperately wanted you decide to pay him a visit to congratulate him and finally put an end to the competition between the two of you in favour of some cooperation. Turns out, cooperation sometimes involve taking your clothes off.

Author’s Note: Some one-shot involving (pre) RE2 Remake Leon, a very sassy reader and some smut. I haven't written that genre in a while though. Hope I'm not too rusty. And by the way, if you notice some terrible grammatical mistakes please let me know (English is not my mother tongue). Anyway, I wish you'll like this story and as usual don't forget to like/reblog and tell me what you think about it.

Warning: SMUT and Language. You can also expect some humour and some fluff. 

Also available on AO3

Franklin D. Roosevelt once said, “Competition has been shown to be useful up to a certain point and no further, but cooperation, which is the thing we must strive for today, begins where competition leaves off.” Wise words. But clearly Roosevelt never had to compete with Kennedy, and by Kennedy you didn’t mean John F. Kennedy but another Kennedy, one with less charisma yet better hair (hell, got to render unto Caesar what’s Caesar’s), Leon S. Kennedy - ‘S’ probably standing for “sucker” or “saint” in your opinion. After all, the guy was such a goody two-shoes. Teacher’s favourite. Neat and tidy top student. Perfect arbiter of right and wrong. And certainly, the only guy in the academy who didn’t stick his cock in Barbara Johnson’s pussy. Weird since she also had a president’s name just like him. Could have been the perfect opportunity for a horizontal presidential debate.

If it wasn’t clear already, you didn’t like Kennedy very much. But it was not for the reasons mentioned above. No, you could tolerate the fact that he was the embodiment of virtue and morals. What you could not tolerate though, was that he was better than you at everything. At fundamentals, at crime prevention and analysis, at counterintelligence, at physical agility, at shooting, at… well, you get the point. It infuriated you. He infuriated you. You never had the chance to beat him. Never. He was always top of your class and you were always close second.           So of course, when you received the letter from the Raccoon City Police Department informing you that your application had been rejected and that the position had been given to someone else, you did the math.       Only Kennedy could have taken that job away from you. After all, you had heard him talking about Raccoon City at lunch break quite a few times in the past weeks and each time he had sounded so excited – well, as excited as cannibalistic murders can make you of course. Truth is, you had also shown interest in this city the moment its terrible crimes hit the first page of the newspapers alongside the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal, collecting every tiny article about it and telling your classmates what a thrilling experience it would be to work on that case. You had even imagined yourself wearing the blue uniform, RPD largely written on your chest, making a report about the rotting body of a camper found in the Arklay mountains.

You sighed, disappointment hitting you hard again. And with a hesitant hand, you knocked at the door in front of you somewhat ready to let go of the competition in favour of some cooperation. You barely waited a couple of seconds before Kennedy opened the door, a cordless telephone against his ear. He appeared genuinely surprised to see you there. “Call you back later, mom.” He said before hanging up the phone, still staring at you with astonished eyes. “Y/N.”   

“Telling your mommy about the amazing job you just got?” Your question had sounded more barbed and curter than indented. Bitterness probably. Leon sighed. He knew exactly what you meant. “Look, if it is about Raccoon City…” “Of course it is about Raccoon City. Why do you think I’m here? To discuss fashion?” You entered his bedsit without asking and looked around you. So well organized and tidy, so military. Pff. Where were the greasy pizza boxes, the nasty underwear on the floor and the bin filled with used tissues all the other guys usually had?      

You turned around to face him with a stone cold expression. “I’m guessing you knew I wanted that post.”           “Yeah but…” You cut him off. You couldn’t care less about the thing he wanted to say. “I don’t blame you. Had I been in your place I would have apply for it too. Damn, I even applied without being in your place, so … The point is, I wanted to congratulate you – even if it hurts me to do so – and tell you that I’m glad this competition between the two of us is finally coming to end.” Leon briefly chuckled and kept an amused smile on his face. This wasn’t the kind of words he had expected from you. “Well, thanks I guess.”       “You’re welcome” You dramatically put a hand over your heart “Gosh, it kills me to be so polite to you, Kennedy.” He retained a laugh and you approached him to slam a heavy blue binder against his - surprisingly strong - chest. Wow, muscles! “Take this.” You reluctantly said with a strangled voice as if you were a mother giving up her baby . “Take care of it. It’s the work of a lifetime … sort of.”

Leon furrowed his brows and opened the folder. Inside, there were all the articles you had collected about Raccoon City since the reveal of the incidents to the public eye plus some notes you had written during you personal late-night investigations. Leon skimmed through them. They were incredibly detailed and you could see how impressed he was. Damn, you wished you had your camera to immortalise this moment. “It won’t be of any use to me now. And it took me too much time to just throw it away so have it. Take it as parting gift.” “Wow, Y/N. I don’t know what to say.” He looked beyond happy. It made you smile. What the hell, Y/N?           “Thank you, maybe?” You swallowed you smile back before he could notice, choosing to replace what could have been something sweet and nice by sarcasm. “Yes, sure.” He grinned. “Thank you.” You nodded. “I don’t want you to have a heart attack so you’re not obliged to say ‘you’re welcome’.” He teased you and as much as you wanted to find the joke lame, you surprisingly found it rather funny.   “Good. Cause that would have been too much for my heart to take in a single day.” He smiled again and this time you couldn’t help but gaze. You were forced to acknowledge he was very cute, handsome even, certainly the kind of guy you would have willingly flirt with if it hadn’t been for the relentless competition between the two of you. “You know it’s nice to see you smile.” Your eyes slightly widened. You had been smiling the whole time? No! “That wasn’t a smile. That was a sneer.” You quickly replied, trying to prevent him from spotting the sudden panic in your eyes.   “Sure.” But yeah, that was definitely a smile and right now your cheeks were burning.

You cleared your throat and looked back upon his face, hoping yours had found back its usual seriousness and scorn. “Well, gotta go. Good riddance, Kennedy. Good luck and try not to screw up.” You proceeded to the door, glad this conversation was over, but Leon was not ready to let you leave just yet. “You know, for me, there was never a competition between us.” You stopped and turned around. “What?” You frowned. “Of course, there was a competition.” He shook his head. “Not for me.”   “Are you telling me that I have deprived myself of sleeping, fallen into coffee addiction and lost my entire social life for two years in the hope of finally beating you at a freaking test while you …” You could tell he was clearly trying not to laugh but his mocking grin was enough to make you blow a fuse. Well, a funny fuse … a funny desperate fuse “No! No!” You repeated, all irritated. “You’re kidding me!” He shrugged, playing all innocent. “Don’t fucking tell me you let me tilt at windmills!” He did. Bastard. Leon - Son of a bitch - Kennedy! That’s what the S stands for. You cursed in your head.           “I tried to tell you …” He started to explain to defend himself. “When?” You harrumphed, almost shouting at him. “Well, many times but …”           “Clearly not enough times.” Your sarcasm was back. “… each time you sent me packing” “I don’t do that.” You felt offended.         “I can’t barely make a full sentence with you!” You opened your mouth to retort but he stopped you by pointing a finger that undeniably meant ‘Careful what you’re going to say’. So you stood there, perfectly still, mouth opened, realising that he was probably right.             “You’re allowed to breath, you know.” He said as a response to your reaction but you didn’t know what to say anymore. Did you really spend all your time at the academy trying to win a non-existent competition? “Fuck.” You cursed, definitely dumbfounded.

Leon observed you, perplexed and wondering if you were going to stay rooted to the spot for the rest of the day. “Y/N” He waved in front of your face to pull you out from your thoughts but you barely noticed. “All that repressed sexual tension for nothing?” You asked yourself. Wait! Did you just say that out loud?           Panic-stricken, you looked up at Leon and judging by the way he was staring at you – all  ‘what the hell did she just say?’ – yep you did.       “You didn’t hear what I’ve just said.” You waved your hand past his face, like a Jedi would do in a Star Wars movie, knowing perfectly it wouldn’t work but hoping that ridicule would make the situation less awkward and give you a chance to run away from his room. It was a failure. “Yes, I did.”

And just like that, Leon Saint Sucker Son of a Bitch – whatever the S stood for - Kennedy caught your face in his hands and kissed you with a passion that made you gasp against him. You tried to resist for a second but then you decided to let go. After all, you had nothing to lose. The study years could be considered over and soon Leon would be in Raccoon City analysing amazing crimes while you would be God-knows-where writing parking tickets. You would never see each other again.     “Tell that to anyone, Kennedy and I’ll kick your gorgeous butt from here to Raccoon City.” You threatened, close to his mouth. “I won’t. Scout’s honour.” Leon Scout Kennedy? You shook your head (Stop being silly, Y/N!) before pushing Leon on the convertible sofa behind him.  

You straddled him without waiting, definitely willing to let your sudden eagerness and your repressed desire for him get the better of you. You met his lips in a new heated kiss, your body pressed against his, craving for lustful friction. And by the way Leon was holding you tight you could tell you weren’t the only one.             His tongue asked permission to enter your mouth and you happily granted it. Who would have thought that Leon Saint Kennedy was such a skilled kisser? Couldn’t he suck for once? Oh yeah, he could suck at your neck apparently. Damn.   A moan escaped your throat and you felt Leon smirk against your skin. “You like that?” He asked, proud of himself. You instinctively arched your neck asking for more, your hands weaving into his soft hair. “It’s not that bad.” You acknowledged and he suddenly bit you in the nape of your neck. “What the fuck?” You shouted, surprised. Leon laughed and you caught his face to kiss him and bite his lips in retaliation. But judging by the kinky smile on his angelic face, he didn’t seem to mind.             “You’re incorrigible.” You humoured. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.” He pecked your lips again and again and slowly began leaving a trail of light kissed down to your neck. “You’d better be. Aren’t you tired of making my life a misery?” You pretended to sulk as he kept on pressing his soft lips on your burning skin. You grabbed his chin, putting you thumb in his dimple and stared at him. How ridiculously hot he was right now with that arousal tinting his beautiful blue eyes and this dishevelled hair.  

“What do you have in mind, Y/N?” Rhetorical question. He knew exactly what you had in mind. Hell, it was basically the same thing he had in his.     “Stop playing coy and take your clothes off.” You whispered close to his face, your hot breath against his mouth, before pulling his bottom lip between your teeth “What about your silly competition?” He murmured back, his hands slowly falling along your sides.   “I’m all in for cooperation right now. So are you gonna give me a hand …” You started unbuckling his belt. “…or do I need to do everything by myself?” His eyes fixed upon yours mischievous ones, gazing at you with awe. You could tell he was completely at your mercy. “I’ll give you more than a hand.” You smirked and allowed your hands to unbutton his jeans. “I thought so.” He lifted his rear and you pulled down his jeans along with his boxers, biting your lips at the view of his beautiful cock. Jesus Christ Kennedy, Mother Nature certainly had been kind to you.

You stood up to undress yourself as well, dropping all your clothes to the floor, your eyes watching at Leon’s hastening hands fighting desperately with the buttons of his shirt. Clearly, you weren’t the only one that was impatient in this room, or horny.   You let him finish before taking your place back on his laps. His hard sex against your body, you slightly shivered, impatience eating you from within. “You’re gorgeous.” He said as he tucked few strands of your hair behind your ear. You couldn’t help but blush, not used to such compliments, and, as a consequence, in order to erase all sense of discomfort in you (if you could call it like that), you decided to focus your attention on his cock.   You brushed his length with your fingertips, admiring it with envy and lust, excited to do more with it. It made Leon hiss and you looked up at him. His eyes were pleading you. Without looking away from the blueness of his look, you caught his penis in your hand and started pumping it gently. Leon’s eyelids flickered; his head hit the back of the sofa and his mouth opened slightly. He seemed thankful, relieved even. You continued your gesture, watching him melting underneath you, listening to his now ragged breath with delight. God, that was sexy. He was sexy. Leon Sexy Kennedy. Suited him.

You bit your lips and decided to venture in between his legs, kneeling onto the floor. “What are you …” Leon complained when he suddenly stopped feeling you on top of him. You cut him short by guiding his cock to your mouth to softly kiss the pre cum-covered tip “Holy...” The rest of the sentence got stuck in his throat and turned into a growl as you eagerly sucked the head of his cock like a Popsicle. You smiled and licked his length, staring at how ecstatic he looked from this angle. “You like that?” You winked as you quoted him and he laughed. “Women.”   You engulfed his cock deep in your mouth and started bobbing your head. A new sigh of pleasure escaped his mouth and you felt him instantly relax on the couch. “God, you’re amazing.” You liked the compliment and to show your appreciation you decided to massage his balls as you kept on sucking him. You received a lustful grunt in response and soon Leon’s hand grabbed your hair to give you a quicker pace, almost making you gag on him. “Oh, sorry.“ What a gentleman! “That’s okay.” You smiled in a very naughty way. “I like it.” He chortled and you took back his dick in your mouth, welcoming it deeper to show him you didn’t mind some roughness. “You know, if you keep doing this I’m soon going to cum in your mouth.”             You stopped, licked your lips and crawled back onto his lap. “That would be a shame.” You joked sarcastically, hands back in his hair “Got a condom?”

The way you pronounced the words, all smiley and adorable, made him laugh again. He pushed you softly to open the drawer of his nightstand and find your one-way ticket for cloud nine. “There!” He announced excited as he showed you the contraceptive. “But first …” He suddenly grabbed your ankles to pull you towards him, making you slightly yelp in the process. “There’s something I got to do”   He lay down on the couch, spread your legs and immediately nestled his head right in between your thighs, making you instantly shiver. So, that’s what he got to do.   You sighed when you felt his breath against you swollen clit but it was only when his tongue met your pink flesh that you realised how aroused you truly were. You were so wet.           “Fuck, am I the one to blame for such a mess?” He joked but his mouth and tongue felt so good in between your thighs that you could only just moan and arch your back, begging for proper sucking and licking. He didn’t make you wait and gave you what you wanted as he started fondling your clit with his tongue. “Leon” That was the first time you where saying his first name and you got to admit, you liked the sound of it. “Yes, sweetheart?”   “Keep going, please.” You begged and he sucked on your bud, gazing at you melting under his touch as he did. You grasped his hair when he finally let a finger enter your core. Fuck, he was good. You moved your hips instinctively against him and he added a new finger. It sank into you as easily as the first one and you cried out, finding it impossible to be discreet anymore. “Fuck, Leon. I want you. I want you now.” You begged.   “Wait a second.” He asked, definitely loving your taste too much for him to stop just now. He pumped his fingers in your pussy, licking your juices greedily and you clenched your thighs around his head, feeling the imminence of your orgasm slowly yet surely approaching. “Now, Leon. Now! Please”

Leon obeyed this time and he quickly sat up and grabbed the condom he had left on the pillow next to him. He put the red wrapper between his teeth and tore it open. Then he rolled the condom down his length with both his hands. You watched him all the time, your fingers massaging your clit, finding him terribly arousing at this very moment.

Once ready, Leon bent over you to kiss you again and he tapped his hard cock on your hand to ask access to your humid entrance. You didn’t object of course and even spread your legs wider. Soon enough, you felt him slide in between your wet lips and then finally push slowly yet exquisitely inside of you. You closed your eyes as he did and drew a sharp breath once you felt him fully inside. You didn’t need time to adjust to him as if your body was meant for him. Guess Leon felt it too as he immediately took a quick pace and began pounding you. You let your hands wander on his smooth chest from his strong pectorals down to his divine abs and the chiselled V below his navel, finding him simply gorgeous. Then you grasped his hips, and nudge his rear with your ankles, pressing his pelvis closer to you to take him deeper, and started moaning his name again. His hands caught your bouncing breasts to play with your nipples, and you rapidly felt the strong wave of pleasure back in your core, ready to drown you. “Fuck, Leon!” His mouth met one of your teats and sucked on it with ardour. That was too much to handle. “I think I’m gonna cum.” You cried out.         “Yeah?” You nodded, letting a tear of pleasure escape your eyes. “Cum for me then.” He didn’t have to say it twice and few seconds later, you dug your nails in his hipbones and screamed loudly as you clenched around his cock, finally coming undone under his thrusts.

Stunned, breathless and at the same time a bit embarrassed that you had already reached your orgasm, you let Leon kiss you soft lips with a smile on his face. “See, you reached the finishing line before me.” He humoured.           “Fuck off.” You whispered, amused yet completely exhausted. He chuckled and pressed his lips against yours one more time before gently pushing you flat on your stomach. “I’m not done with you yet.” He whispered in your ear.  

You moaned loudly when he thrust back into your wet core, pinning you down on the mattress that you ultimately grabbed tightly in order to stay in place. He started pounding you again, holding you by the hips, taking delight in watching your sweet butt bouncing against him as he was burying himself deeper than he had ever done before. “Jesus, Y/N!” He growled before spanking you.         You gasped, astonished but in a good way. You had never thought he was that kind of guy. “Really, Kennedy? Spanking? That’s what the ‘S’ in your name stands for?” He laughed, still fucking you from behind. “I thought you would like it.” “Oh but I do. I just never thought it was your thing.”         “You should stop taking me for a saint, Y/N.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead, brushing the strand of hair covering his right eye away and focused again on his movements. “It’s not my fault. It’s your baby face.” You confessed in between two moans. He brutally stopped and you wondered for a second if what you had just said had actually vexed him.       “My baby face? Really?” He repeated in your ear with a smirk as he grabbed you by the hair. “Who’s been crying out my name the whole time?” Holy shit. You instinctively braced yourself and when he resumed his hammering you knew it was a smart decision. Leon started growling even more loudly as he slowed yet deepened his movements inside of you, his hand in your hair, using your body as leverage. He was almost aggressive but you moaned nevertheless, out of breath, feeling a new orgasm building inside of you. Really? You clenched around him, trying to hold your orgasm a bit longer, unwilling to give him the satisfaction to cum around him again.

When Leon’s hard pounding started to get sloppy you realised he was really close to his release. “Jesus, I’m almost there.” He admitted.         You don’t know how you found the strength to push him on his back but you did. Sitting on top of him, you removed the condom, threw it carelessly onto the floor and started to jerk him off. “I want you to cum on me.” You confessed. A guttural moan vibrated in his throat and he let himself sprawl on the mattress, leaving you in complete charge of his pleasure. You grinded against his cock as your hand kept on firmly going up and down his length. It drove Leon crazy and you soon felt him throbbing in your grip. His breath became even more ragged and jerky and small spasms took control of his body. You angled his cock towards you and soon, a hot load of thick cum spurted on your stomach and breasts as Leon cursed and grunted between his gritted teeth. “Fuck, Y/N!”

You smiled and let go of his member, proud and satisfied of your work, looking at poor panting Leon who had a beautiful yet exhausted smile on his face. “You killed me, woman.” He joked and you briefly laughed. Then, you wiped his cum off your body with your fingers and brought them to your mouth, sucking them eagerly and swallowing the white seed looking right in Leon’s eyes. You had the feeling he would find it very hot. “Jesus Christ” Bull’s eye!

He circled you with his strong arms and pulled you against his chest. His heart was beating wildly and you allowed yourself to huddle a bit more against him to enjoy the melody. Post-coital cuddling session? Not sure that was a good idea but you decided to go for it and so did Leon as he chose to burry his nose in your hair and kiss the top of your head.

“Scott” He whispered sleepily. You looked up, wondering what he meant. “That’s what the ‘S’ stands for. Leon Scott Kennedy.”

Scott? You repeated in your head with a soft smile. Oh well, that didn’t sound so bad even though, right now, you preferred Leon ‘Stay’ Kennedy.

[thebluelemontree]

I know GRRM has previously stated that ADwD!Tyrion is at his lowest point, but I find it very hard to see how he will ever redeem himself given what he has done and what he has participated in. Do you believe readers gloss over the tragedies he faces i.e. slavery, the Tysha revelation, and do you see path for redemption?

I think with the fandom in general there does seem to be a proportional relationship to the amount of careful consideration people give their problematic favs versus how little they give to a character that is decidedly not their fav. Full disclosure: Tyrion is not one of my favs. There are moments I don’t like him and I don’t personally connect with him. He’s deliberately written to be someone most readers will wrestle with. Out of all the POVs, he’s probably the most psychologically complex and fraught with a minefield of trauma-induced hot buttons. As we know, profound trauma and horrific family dynamics rarely produce saintly victims who suffer beautifully, quietly, and always behave magnanimously. I am by no means an expert on Tyrion; however, I do know he definitely started out as a good person. Early AGOT Tyrion is a pretty decent fellow who validated Jon’s feelings of anger and resentment and designed a saddle to accommodate Bran’s disability for no other reason than he just empathized with them both. Even later on, he does stand up for Sansa against Joffrey’s cruelty, even though their marriage was a miserable farce and act of war against her family. Sansa seems to bear no personal ill-will toward him despite it. I think we should leave room for the possibility the impression he made with small kindnesses in the beginning could come back around to foster peace and mutual forgiveness between the Starks and Lannisters toward the end. 

But before that he was a sweet, loving kid until he was brutally disabused of the notion that anyone could possibly love him. I can’t imagine anything worse than your own father violently raping by proxy two innocent kids for the crime of his son being happy and believing for one single second that he was loved for himself. He’s experienced a lifetime of continuous physical, sexual, mental, and verbal abuse on top of ableist bigotry and repeated scapegoating that nearly cost him his life more than once. For all his dark gray, unlikable moments, it’s actually kind of a miracle that Tyrion still retains what goodness he does have when he could have been totally fucked up beyond repair, without any pity or compassion left in him, and hating all of humanity with every fiber of his being.   

GRRM does a good job of delivering blow after intensifying blow leading up to the moment he snaps and murders Tywin and Shae.There’s the overwhelming stress of the trial for the regicide he was framed for, one where his guilt and conviction is a foregone conclusion. The public humiliation and betrayal of Shae’s false testimony where his sexuality is served up for mockery. The people of KL are literally bloodthirsty and cheering for his death. There’s the momentary hope and crushing defeat of Oberyn Martell championing him in the trial by combat. Then finally Jaime drops the Tysha bomb. I mean, wow... it’s a lot. It’s totally understandable why he goes to the Hand’s tower to confront his father instead of escaping immediately. Personally, I don’t think he has to be sorry about killing Tywin at all. That pile of excrement had it coming and deserved a painful, ignoble death on the shitter at minimum. Shae is the only one there that has enough mitigating factors to say she definitely didn’t deserve to be strangled to death, though I get how it happened in the heat of the moment under intense mental duress. I think he needs to atone for that one, and I say that as someone who thinks Shae is a callous, conniving, greedy, low-level bloodsucker without any redeeming qualities. Yet, killing either of them, especially Tywin, didn’t bring Tyrion any peace or satisfaction whatsoever. Kinslaying is still up there with the most cursed of transgressions. It’s major part of his spiral into the tormented abyss we see in ADWD.  

It’s been a long time since I read ADWD as it’s not my favorite part of the series, so my memory of all the details is not the best. And like I said, I am not an expert on Tyrion. The general impression I get is that Tyrion thinks that he thinks he hates humanity and he’s finally become the monster everyone believed him to be. So he rages against practically everything and everyone. He certainly harbors a hatred for the people of KL and the sister sitting on the throne. There is a high probability he acts upon those feelings and helps usher in a catastrophic tragedy out of vengeance. Just as an example, he is aware of the wildfire cache sitting under KL and that knowledge can be used in a really bad way. Might be that crossing a point of no return, which may feel glorious in the moment, is ironically the thing that causes him to recoil in horror and regret after the dust settles. Consider Tyrion’s dream about the duality of himself: 

That night Tyrion Lannister dreamed of a battle that turned the hills of Westeros as red as blood. He was in the midst of it, dealing death with an axe as big as he was, fighting side by side with Barristan the Bold and Bittersteel as dragons wheeled across the sky above them. In the dream he had two heads, both noseless. His father led the enemy, so he slew him once again. Then he killed his brother, Jaime, hacking at his face until it was a red ruin, laughing every time he struck a blow. Only when the fight was finished did he realize that his second head was weeping.

If the two heads are both noseless, then they are both present day Tyrion. There are two sides of him right now that are equally capable of reveling in bloody vengeance and weeping for someone he still loves even though they wounded him deeply. 

Then what? Well, the thing about hitting your lowest point is that you can either dwell there until you fatally self-destruct or you can find your way back up. Granted, ADWD Tyrion is in a dark place, but there’s still space to get even darker for at least a little while in TWOW. It is possible Tyrion spends the rest of his life atoning for his worst actions during this period, using his intellectual gifts (even the parts that are Tywin writ small) to serve the needs of the people he has harmed. And it does make good story sense for someone who grew to hate humanity for very understandable reasons still found it in himself to care about it enough to save it. Even sacrifice himself for it if necessary since there’s a strong possibility he is a dragon rider. Since all signs seem to point to him ultimately playing a heroic role against the Others, we can rule out the idea that he just says good riddance to bad rubbish and laughs while the world ends. That has to mean something, right? 

There is always a path for redemption for anyone who sees the wrong of what they’ve done, has heartfelt remorse, and commits themselves to meaningful and lasting change. It’s not really about forgiveness at all, although that sometimes happens alongside redemption and it’s certainly easier for people to forgive once they see change. Redemption is work the character must do themselves for the right reasons. It’s not a status granted to them by other people. In fact, it’s probably more sincere when someone decides to do right anyway even if no one ever thinks better of them. If Tyrion (or any other character) is unforgivable to you, then the best worst thing that could happen is that they have to live a long life and spend all of it repaying their karmic debt. Even if he’s not my fav or your fav, a lot of people out there still do relate to him and the things he’s been through. A lot of people are not okay and not good victims from the trauma they’ve suffered. Fiction with redemption that is possible for anyone gives people hope that they could be better too, and there’s no other instance in the books that makes me think GRRM is cynical about redemption. The only way redemption isn’t happening for Tyrion is if he choses not pursue it. 

[ineloqueent]

the whole of the moon

Platonic!Queen x Reader

cannot remember where this gif is from. if it’s yours, drop me a line!

synopsis: a late-night shopping trip goes awry...

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking

word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy birthday, dearest vi ( @doing-albri​ )!! i hope you have a wonderful day, because you deserve it. i’m sorry this is so short; i’ve been terribly busy, for whole months, it seems. but i’ve done my best, and i hope you’ll enjoy it. inspired by this song <3

⭒

1975

“Just like old times,” said Roger happily, cranking up the music and beginning to tap his fingers on the steering wheel.

Brian immediately grimaced, and reached over to turn the volume down again.

“Hey!” Roger smacked Brian’s hand away from the knob, and you laughed, from your place between John and Freddie in the backseat.

Brian turned his head to wink at you.

“Some of us need our hearing to be able to play, Rog,” he said.

John wrinkled his nose, flexing his fingers as he shifted a ring from his pointer to his pinky, and back again. “You’ve still got yours left?”

Brian looked confused. “Yeah..?”

“Oh,” said John, with an air of sarcasm, “that’s right. You’re the one who talked our ears off yesterday.”

Now Brian looked miffed. “Just because you don’t understand zodiacal light, doesn’t mean it’s uninteresting.”

Deacy rolled his eyes.

“No offense, darling,” Freddie sighed, “but if you say one more word about science before we’ve finished this champagne-run, I’m going to climb over the console and strangle you.”

Roger guffawed, and John grinned so broadly one would’ve thought him a small child on  Christmas morning.

“Fine,” said Brian, miffed. “I won’t talk at all.”

“Good riddance,” Roger muttered, and Brian crossed his arms.

“Why did I agree to going with you all, again?”

You leaned forward to tug on one of his curls, and Brian whirled, startled, pushing his fingers into his hair. He relaxed when he saw it was only you. “To be the voice of reason, of course,” you told him.

He smiled. “You’re not wrong.”

Roger grumbled, “Don’t boost his ego, sweetheart.”

“Too late,” said Freddie. “He’s going to start talking about time dilation any moment now.”

“Time dilation?” Brian asked. “Hadn’t even thought of that. But if you really want to know—”

A collective groan rose from the other three, and you laughed again.

You loved this.

You loved them.

You loved travelling the world with your four best friends, watching them live their dreams, and getting to be a part of that reality, the reality no one could ever have thought would take on such a life of its own.

Tour life could be hectic at times, but you wouldn’t have given it up for the world.

Not when you arrived in a ramshackle town where the nicest place in sight was the funeral home, not when your legs felt tired enough to give out from beneath you, as you stood watching the show from the wings, for the umpteenth night in a row.

Because when John decided to put on a record, he always asked for your opinion, and picking Roger’s outfit was as much your job as it was his, and when Brian and Freddie played to the crowd as though they were old friends, it was like you held the world in the palm of your hand.

Even if the four of them argued constantly.

As the van suddenly swerved, and the three of you in the back clung to each other in terror, Brian said crossly, “Jesus, Roger, watch the road!”

“I am!” protested the drummer, and Brian grumbled a response in the negative.

“You absolutely are not,” said Freddie, hanging onto the headrest of Brian’s seat. “And I refuse to die in the middle of nowhere, thank you very much, so you can keep your eyes forward if you want to still be in the band by tomorrow night.”

Roger rolled his eyes, and made a blah blah blah gesture with his hand. But he was clearly not as adept at multitasking as he thought, because a moment later, Deacy cried,

“Watch out for that deer!”

“Yes, Roger, slow down,” said Brian warningly. “I swear I will murder you in cold blood if you kill that deer.”

“What deer?” Roger squinted. “I don’t see a— DEER!”

He swerved so violently this time that your seatbelt dug into your skin, and you pushed against the seatbacks to keep from falling forward.

The van hurtled off the side of the road, but Roger had somehow managed to slow the vehicle significantly before the swerve, and so the off-road trip would have been only a momentary pause in your journey into town.

Had it not been for the barbed wire lying in the grass.

The tyres of the van had surely seen better days, after so many miles on the road, and you felt the moment all four of them punctured.

Roger gripped the steering wheel for dear life, and Brian, struggling to combat inertia, had both hands on the dashboard, one knee against the console and other against the door, whilst Freddie still clung to the headrest, and John pushed at the back of Roger’s seat. You, stranded in the middle, failed to maintain any sort of position.

The van ploughed forward like a tidal wave, into the field by the road, then sank abruptly to a stop with a whumph, when the last of its momentum had been wasted.

There was a silence as you looked around the car, at Roger’s tousled hair and Brian’s wide eyes, Freddie’s gritted teeth and John’s crooked collar.

Then the shouting started.

“Roger you moron!”

“How the hell did you not see that coming?!”

“I’ve told you, I need to get my eyes checked!”

“Well, kindly do it before you kill us all!”

“I’ve seen 90-year-old women drive better than you do!”

“Fuck off, Brian! If you hadn’t—”

“We’re never going to get that champagne!”

You all turned to Freddie.

“Really,” you said, “you’re thinking about Moët et Chandon right now?”

Freddie shrugged. “Seems we’d all be in better humour if we’d had the option to have a glass before we left.”

“Or maybe,” Brian drawled, “we’d all be dead, because Roger can barely drive when he’s sober.”

Roger was fuming, bright red in the face with a will to speak but no adequate words to suit, and he looked as though if he stayed silent for a moment longer, he would try to throw a punch at Brian.

Brian, to his credit, folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, and stared Roger down.

Laughter broke the silence, and you all turned to find John completely beside himself with amusement.

He did not stop laughing until he was wiping tears from his eyes, and by then, you had begun smiling too.

“What,” barked Roger.

Deacy shook his head, his soft hair flying about his face. “Don’t any of you see how funny this is?”

“Funny..?” asked Brian cautiously.

“Well,” said Deacy, “are any of you hurt?”

You looked around, tallied the appearances of everyone in your head.

“No,” you replied.

“Okay, then listen: we ran out of champagne, so, despite the fact that it was half-past eleven at night, we all piled into a sort of run-down van, without security, without crew, and set off to buy a bottle of champagne. We’d been driving for all of five minutes before we started arguing the first time, and half an hour into the trip, Roger drives us off the side of a road after Brian finishes rambling about science—”

“Astrophysics, actually—”

“—and all four tyres puncture,” John went on. “And now, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

There was a pause.

But despite everything, John was right. This really was funny.

You started to laugh as well, and Deacy grinned at you until both Freddie and Brian were smiling, and the corner of Roger’s mouth tugged upward as his colour faded.

Brian sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls. “So, now what?”

“Spare tyres?” you suggested.

“About that…” Roger mumbled.

“Oh, dear god,” Freddie said, dropping his head to his hands.

John laughed again, and Brian made a noncommittal noise.

“So we walk,” you said.

Freddie shook his head. “I am not walking on the side of a road in the middle of the night.”

Roger wrinkled his nose too. “Bloody insects,” he muttered, “get in your hair.”

“And Brian’s stretched his hamstring again,” said Deacy. You glanced over at Brian, who winced apologetically. He wasn’t one to complain, though; you’d all but forgotten his incapacity.

“Which just leaves just you and me,” Deacy nodded to you.

“I dunno, Deacs,” you made a face. “Freddie’s onto something, about not walking on the side of a deserted road in the pitch black. And,” you continued, before John could object, “you’re not going on your own. We’ll simply have to wait until morning.”

Everyone seemed lost in thought.

“Right,” Brian said, “that’s it.” He pulled on the handle of the passenger door, and it clicked open. “We’re sleeping under the stars.”

“Not this again!” Roger cried, but Brian reprimanded him.

“I think you’ve said enough for the time being, Rog.”

The heavy door slammed behind Brian, and you could hear the boot being opened.

“He’s right, you know,” John remarked, in a rare display of solidarity with the guitarist.

Roger only sniffed.

A few seconds later, Brian knocked on Freddie’s window.

“Come on, then!” he said, smilingly. “I’m only sorry none of us brought our instruments.”

Deacy widened his eyes at you. “Thank god for that.”

You laughed and pushed him lightly, toward his door, and when he’d hopped out, you followed.

You rounded the car with John, to find Brian already staring up at the sky, as Freddie and Roger joined you as well.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Brian murmured.

You turned your face to the sky, and saw what he meant.

There was no light pollution here, no skyscrapers or tall houses to obstruct the view, and the world above stretched on endlessly, a plethora of life above your heads. It was so very bright, and yet so very far away. It was indeed beautiful.

You breathed the night air, and nodded.

“I found a picnic blanket,” Brian added, holding it up, “and apparently, Crystal keeps a chocolate stash, so we’ve got that too.” He then sank into the grass, stretching out his long legs, entirely without regard for the light blue suit he wore, and Freddie looked on in distaste.

“That’s no way to treat perfectly good fashion, darling. Now, if it’d been that horrible knitted sweater of yours, and those old, tatty velvet trousers, I’d have said otherwise, but that there is a perfectly good—”

“Sit down, Freddie,” you said, and Freddie closed his mouth and sat. You made your way over to Brian, who had now reclined completely, his fingers winding absently in the pale grass.

Soon, you were all sprawled in the field, which, funnily enough, was peppered with moonflowers, and you sighed, utterly at ease with the peacefulness of the scene around you: your family, the sky, the stars, and the whole of the moon. It shone radiantly this night, full and subtly tinged with orange, warmth softening the usual coldness of its light.

“Spare some of that chocolate?” John whispered from beside you.

You nudged Brian, who passed over the wrapped sweets, which you then handed to John.

Roger was placated by the sharing of the chocolate, and Freddie seemed perfectly content to laze about in a manner similar to that of one of his many cats. The latter fell asleep within minutes, having stolen Roger’s jacket.

It wasn’t long before only you and Brian remained awake, gazing up at the stardust which spilled from the heavens, and the world was quiet.

Brian shifted slightly, and you turned your head to find him looking at you.

A soft smile touched his lips, and his cheeks were rosy in the blue-dark.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

You could not help but smile back, because your heart was as full as it had ever been.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” you whispered.

[punkpoemprose]

December 1st- Ink

Universe: Modern AU, Tattoo Artist! Kristoff Rating: M (Mature for non-descriptive sexual content & innuendo and Anna said fuck once) Length: Words 4184

You can blame a few people for this one. @frozenmusings for that artwork of Viking! Kristoff with the sleeve tat that I couldn’t find when I was writing but is absolutely gorgeous. And @karis-the-fangirl and @upthenorthmountain for reminding me how badly I wanted a tattoo artist AU when they posted about “tit for tat” which I still desperately want you to write.

Anyway, sorry for the lateness! Here we go!

This wasn’t his first rodeo. It wasn’t even his tenth. He’d heard every argument in the books and his counter argument was the same every single time, no matter how people yelled or how many eyelashes were batted at him.

“You’re not making this decision with a clear head, so I’m sorry. The answer is no.”

She looked like she was about to cry and he steeled himself. Kristoff Bjorgman had never been the type of man to be shaken from his convictions by a few tears. He had been called ‘no-nonsense’, ‘determined’ and even occasionally ‘obstinate’, but he’d never been afraid to live up to everyone.

It didn’t mean he was heartless.

He sighed and reached for the box of tissues on his desk, ready to hand them over in a moment’s notice. The distraught young woman before him, a pretty little redhead with freckles and blue eyes full of emotion, had come into his shop for a walk-in consultation but she’d pushed him to take it from a consultation to an appointment within the first ten minutes.

It was hardly unheard of. He’d been willing to work on a walk in several times in the past, but the last thing he wanted to do was put ink to skin on an emotional tattoo virgin. He knew implicitly that it was a horrible plan because impulse tats always came with regrets. He wasn’t going to tattoo her for the same reasons he wouldn’t tattoo someone drunk or high and he’d explain it to her before or after she cried it out.

“Look,” he said, already offering her a tissue with a sad smile, “It’s nothing personal. There’s about six shops on this side of town that would do this for you, no questions asked, but you walked into mine and I only tattoo people when I think they’re in the right headspace. You’ve never had a tattoo before and you look like you’re about to breakdown. So if you want you can leave and find someone else, or I can sketch something for you and you can come back in a week or so and tell me then if you still want it. Fair?”

She huffed out a sigh that sounded a little strangled to him, like she was choking down a sob, but she didn’t take a tissue from him and folded her hands in her lap calmly. She was staring through him as she weighed her options and he wondered if she was taking the time to truly decide or whether she was just trying to calm herself down.

“That’s fair. I knew I should have just dyed my hair or something… but I…” she stopped for a moment and closed her eyes. Whatever she had to say it was easier for her to not look at him when she did. “I’ve wanted one for a while and he never let…”

Her eyes opened again and she looked down at her own folded hands. Suddenly despite the open air style of his studio, their interaction felt intimate. He blamed it on the lack of other people in the shop. Even his dog Sven who usually greeted the customers at the door was off on some other canine errand and Kristoff wasn’t sure whether he wanted him to return or not to break the tension.

“Bad break up?”

He didn’t know why he was asking. It was private information. He didn’t need to know why she was distraught, he just needed to make sure she knew why he wouldn’t ink her while she was in such a state.

Despite the occupational hazard of small talk that came with his job, kind of like a bartender or hairdresser, Kristoff had never been the type to initiate conversation. He figured he was generally well liked, given his number of return customers, but he had a feeling it had more to do with his work and clean shop than it did his conversational skills. He’d always been content to listen than to pry or talk about any concern of his own.

But this girl, Anna, seemed like she was ready to explode and maybe he was beginning to soften a bit for a pretty face. No one was around to see it, so he decided that he was allowed.

She looked at him with a bit of shock on her face, but it quickly disappeared, and she nodded.

“I won’t bore you with the details,” she said, her voice cracking in a way that he could feel in his chest, “But this is the first time in a long time that I’ve been able to make a decision for myself… and I’m sorry… I should have thought it through before I came here to bother you, it’s just. God. I wanted to belong to myself again. Does that make sense? He hated women with tattoos and I’d always liked them, so it seemed like a good way to say ‘good riddance’.”

He nodded. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard something like this from someone just coming out of a relationship. Hell, he’d almost done it himself when he’d been a dumb seventeen year old and he’d found out his first and last girlfriend had been kissing every guy in the grade. He was glad he didn’t of course, but Anna seemed to have a bit more conviction and twice as good of a reason.

“It makes sense. But if it makes sense to you now it’ll make sense to you in a week, yeah? I don’t do this very often, but uh, well if you want after I draw it up for you I can transfer it on you and Sharpie it on so you can see what it’d be like for the week give or take. It won’t look as great, but it might help with… you know, uh what you’re feeling.”

He wondered if he was blushing. He hadn’t blushed in a long time, after all he’d tattooed enough naked women to be over getting embarrassed for the rest of his life, but there was something about approaching her feelings, a stranger, that made him feel flushed. There was a part of his head that told him it was justified by something between the way he desperately wanted to make her smile and the way he wanted to go drop her ex-boyfriend into the nearest body of water with a pair of cement shoes.

She smiled at that and he practically melted into his chair. She was still teary eyed and a bit exhausted looking, but there was a little light in her eyes that told him that it may have been the kindest thing someone had done for her in a very long time. It made him want to be even nicer.

“So a sunflower right?”

“Please!”

                                                               ***

Anna laid awake in her bed, tracing the faux tattoo on her bare shoulder with one finger as she held her book open with the other hand. She couldn’t keep her mind on reading it. She was too excited for her appointment first thing in the morning where it would be made permanent.

She closed her eyes and remembered how kind Kristoff had been when she stumbled into his tattoo parlor a complete wreck. He hadn’t needed to go out of his way to draw the line art onto her, but he had. He’d explained it off as if it were just something to do on a slow day, but she for all her past trouble understanding intentions, had seen right through it. He was a good man and he had been sweeter to her than anyone had been in a very long time.

She hoped that she was going to be able to keep it together when she arrived in the morning.

Setting the book down and laying back into the bed she realized how most of her excitement wasn’t even about the tattoo, though she was thrilled to be finally getting it and her week-long trial period had left her without any doubts, a major part of the excitement was owing to the fact that she was going to see him and his hands were going to be on her again. She could still feel the ghost of his calloused finger pads on her freckled shoulder. He’d been gentle in his machinations, his hand resting and shifting gently across her skin as he moved the marker, fingers patting powder onto the ink to keep it from smearing as he worked, and she’d almost sworn that once or twice his fingers swiped at her skin wholly unnecessarily. She was likely wrong, her imagination running wild that he’d found her something beyond a weepy mess, and yet she’d sworn he’d been blushing at least a little bit when he helped her slip her shirt back over her shoulder. Of course he was a gentleman, maybe he blushed every time he laid his hands on a lady for his work.

She smiled to herself and tried her best to fall asleep.

 Somehow I seriously doubt it.

                                                              ***

“Fuck!”

Kristoff chuckled. He couldn’t help himself.

“Anna, I just touched your shoulder, I haven’t even set up the gun yet.”

She felt herself going red and closed her eyes, as if her blocking out her own vision of the space around her could hide how embarrassing she was being. She had been so excited the night before, and now she was a mess. She’d never been very good at pain and despite Kristoff’s repeated promise that the first few minutes were the worst and that the pain dulls fast, it was all she could do to keep herself from shaking from her nerves alone.

“I know! I know! I’m sorry! I don’t mean to be so nervous! I’m sorry!”

He shook his head. Her eyes were closed tight. It was nothing new to him, scared first time clients were just a part of the business. What wasn’t run of the mill was the way he wanted to reach out and tuck a few stray hairs behind her ear and maybe cup her jaw and maybe tell her how he’d be happy to just spend the rest of the day in her presence with or without tattooing her despite the fact that he also very much wanted to mark her in a way he’d never wanted to do any other client in his six year career.

He settled on the safest bet and tried to erase the others from his mind.

“Don’t be sorry. You’re my only appointment today, so we don’t have to start until you’re feeling good about it. And if you want to back out, that’s fine too.”

“No. I want to do this.” She opened her eyes to see that he was still sitting to her side. His eyes were on her and she could see that there was no judgement there. “Plus you said it won’t even be that bad.”

He shook his head, “I don’t want to make it sound like a walk in the park or anything, but yeah most people agree the shoulder is the least painful.”

“What do you think though?”

He smiled that she wanted to know what he thought specifically. He wasn’t one of the artists that was head to toe ink, but he’d had a few pieces done since he’d started in the field at eighteen. He hadn’t ever had one on his shoulder specifically, but the sleeve on his right arm had started on his shoulder and had worked down his arm. He was certain that despite the intricacy of the design that it had been far less painful than the tattoo on his chest.

He shrugged off his flannel and watched Anna’s eyes go wide as she caught sight of his arm. He tried his best not to react as he tugged up the sleeve on the t-shirt beneath, so she could see his shoulder. It was hardly impressive compared to some of the sleeves he’d seen on others, or even compared to some he’d done himself, but he liked it well enough and judging by Anna’s reaction it seemed that she found it impressive.

It was a piece of Norse knotwork, a recreation of a wood carving in the wall of a 12th-century stave church that he longed to visit in person. The curves moved up his arm, lightly shaded to let the knotwork stand out against his skin, curves of lines following the contours of his arm that moved like living things along with him.

“Honestly it was my third tattoo, so I had stuff to compare it to, but I didn’t think it was that bad. I mean it’s going to be painful, but I promise it won’t be too much for you to handle and we can take all the breaks you want or need.”

Kristoff watched like it was in slow motion as she reached out to touch his arm gently. Her finger followed the path of one of the knots from his elbow up to his shoulder and he could scarcely breathe. She was so focused on what she was doing, as if it were wholly natural for her to touch him and he was enjoying it.

“I was a foster kid,” he said, the words tumbling from his lips without meaning to. He wasn’t the sharing sort. “When I was sixteen a family offered to adopt me but I didn’t want to be a burden and they kept me anyway. When I turned eighteen they still wanted me, they supported me and I wouldn’t be here without them. When I turned twenty they helped me figure out where I came from, one of those DNA tests and when I realized I was Norwegian… I sort of ran with it and honored it the only way I knew how.”

Anna blinked then pulled her hand away as if burned. She opened her mouth to apologize, but she saw his smile and stopped herself. He was already telling her there was nothing to apologize for.

“It suits you,” she said quietly, trying to subdue her blush as she chided herself about personal space as if she were a child again. It wasn’t his fault that she was attracted to him, that she’d forgotten completely how to act around other people.

“Thank you,” he said. And he meant it.

He pulled his flannel back on and cleared his throat. He meant it and that meant he had to remember where he was, what he was doing. Anna was sweet and beautiful and above all else she was his client. He needed to shake all the thoughts from his mind about how much he would enjoy letting her trace all his tattoos as he traced all her curves with his mouth.

“So how are you feeling about all of this now?”

She glanced around the room for a moment. Despite the fact that there was no one else in the shop and the fact that she didn’t need to strip down beyond her tank top to get her tattoo he’d brought her to a private room. She noticed it now, the bits and baubles that made it his more than the rest of his shop. There were flannels on a hook by the door that all looked well worn. A few clearly had been sewn back up on the elbows with patches. The flash on the wall was all hand drawn Thor’s hammers, Odin’s eyes, and more knotwork like what was present on his arm. In the corner of the room was a large dog bed for Sven, his wolfhound mix that was currently holding down the fort outside the closed door.

“Suddenly very good.”

“Okay,” he said, giving her a smile as he started off prepping her arm by removing the last of the sharpie on her arm, “If you start to feel not very good tell me, okay? You’ve got a little time before we start.”

She smiled back, “I, um… I don’t think that’s going to be an issue. I’m feeling a bit better now.”

“Good, I’m going to talk you through what I’m doing so I don’t scare you again, okay?”

Anna lost herself in the process, relaxing back onto the chair as he wiped away the temporary ink, shaved away the fine hair on her shoulder, and applied the pattern to her skin with transfer paper. His voice, walking her through the steps was soothing, though she barely paid attention to his words as she relaxed herself completely.

She had decided that she was in excellent hands, and the gentle touches of his hands on her made her wish she were with him for something more than business. She wished that he’d slip the gloves from his hands and change course for someplace a little more exciting than her shoulder. She bit her lip at the thought and was then pulled from her reverie by his voice calling her name.

“Anna? Are you ready?”

The calm evaporated, and she was suddenly all to aware of the fact that she was just moments away from getting her first tattoo.

“As I’ll ever be, I’m afraid.”

Kristoff could see her anxiety returning and he could understand it. It’d been more than six years since his first and he could still remember nearly wanting to vomit the whole time. He couldn’t really relate any more, but he felt a lot of empathy for her.

“Okay, keep your arm still alright? If it gets to be too much or you need a break or feel like you’re going to pass out or you need a drink or anything at all, you tell me, okay? I’m going to take care of you.”

He really wanted to take care of her.

“I’m getting a sunflower because before my parents passed away, we had a family camp up in the mountains and there were fields of sunflowers on the drive up.”

He hadn’t asked, but he appreciated her telling him anyway. She hadn’t asked about his and she’d appreciated him telling her anyway. There was a weight hanging in the air between them, something that was about their sharing and about something more. She could almost feel the pressure of it and then it dissipated pleasantly when she heard his voice.

“I’m honored you picked me to do it.”

“I’m honored you agreed.”

And with that she nodded, and she felt like her sister’s cat Olaf had decided to go to town on her shoulder.

“Ah!”

He didn’t mean to hush her gently when it came out of his mouth and he didn’t mean to quietly apologize to her either.

“Sorry Anna, I know it hurts, it’ll be alright in a moment, trust me.”

She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes. She was fairly certain it didn’t even hurt all that much and that it was more the foreignness of the situation that made it all seem worse. She focused on breathing through her nose and fought back against the little tears in the corner of her eyes.

“Hey, hey, don’t tense up. It’s okay, you’re doing great! Relax a bit and it’ll get better okay?”

“Easy for you to say.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that, “I know, do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, I think I’ll get used to it in a minute or two.”

He focused on keeping his hand steady after that, following the curves of the pattern as he created petals of ink on her skin. He wiped away gently at the blood and ink that appeared on her shoulder with the pinpricks the machine’s needles made in her skin. She was holding perfectly still, and he found he was able to work along at a nice pace as he focused on inking her skin.

Anna was somewhat surprised when she relaxed again and thought for a moment how amazing it was that what was once painful was now entirely bearable. Shortly after this realization came, she found the courage to glance in her periphery at what he was doing and how far along they were.

He was sexy when he was focused. She’d already decided it within a moment of laying eyes on him as he focused on tattooing her. If it weren’t for the fact that she had the state of mind not to, she would tell him so. She wondered if anyone had ever told him before.

That was when she felt a change again, but it wasn’t for the worse.

“Ah! Kristoff!”

She heard the gun stop before she realized what had happened, or even registered the sounds she’d made. A throaty moan, and then a needy call of his name followed by silence.

She could only imagine the shade of crimson she was as he looked at her nervously, likely trying to figure out what he had done to hurt her when she was the opposite of hurt beyond the ache in her arm.

“Are you alright?”

Anna had no idea how to respond to that. She felt hot and exhausted and embarrassed and she hadn’t thought that she could have made a bigger fool of herself, but somehow, she’d managed.

It clicked when he saw how she looked away from him suddenly, her body going from lax to stiff faster than he could say “that’s the first orgasm I’ve ever given a woman”, which he of course had the good sense not to say.

“Oh.”

“I should not be allowed in public. I’m a menace, oh my God. I’m so sorry!”

He, after spending half the session thinking less than gentlemanly thoughts about what he would do with her if she ever wanted to see him for non-tattoo purposes, immediately felt guilty.

“Why are you sorry? I mean… I know what just... but why would you be…?”

She was mortified. She couldn’t even answer him as she was trying to make mental plans as to how she was going to go the rest of her life with a half a sunflower on her shoulder. She had already paid him, she could bolt now and live with it. She didn’t think she could ever have anyone else tattoo her ever again.

“Anna, it happens. I mean… never to me, or someone I’ve been tattooing, but I’ve heard it happens. Usually with thigh and hip tattoos, but it happens, and you don’t need to be embarrassed.”

“Yes I do!” she replied before she could think any better of it, “I do because I’m recently single and there’s supposed to be a ‘mourning period’ you know? And you’ve been so nice to me and I’ve been zoning out thinking about what else you could do with your hands and I…”

She trailed off and he blinked.

“You’ve been thinking about…”

“I have to leave here and never come back, don’t I?” she said, already judging how fast she could get out the door.

“Well if you do I have to as well because I’ve been thinking about the same sort of thing.”

“Wait… what?”

Kristoff sighed and bemoaned his lack of experience with women beyond a few bad dates. There was no way that this was a normal way to tell her that he was interested in her, but normal fell by the wayside a while ago for them.

“Look I think you’re a very attractive woman and since you walked into my shop last week you’ve been on my mind and I’ll admit to thinking some things about you that I probably shouldn’t think about a client. I don’t want that to freak you out though and I know we’re here alone and you… well just know I’m not upset and I’m not going to act on anything because until I get this tattoo done there’s a power imbalance here and I’m not that kind of guy.”

Anna held her breath for a moment. She thought about pinching herself until the ache in her arm told her she certainly wasn’t dreaming.

“What about after?”

“After what?”

He was confused and embarrassed and already thinking about the other places in town he would trust enough to finish her tattoo for her given the fact that she’d probably not want him to finish it.

“After you finish my tattoo… I mean I understand the concept of not fraternizing with your customers, but after you’re done?”

He couldn’t believe what she was saying and he had to take a moment to connect her words to meaning in his mind.

“Then,” he said finally coming to his senses to blot away the excess ink on her arm gently, “I suppose if you… if we… I uh, would want to do things right. Maybe after I finish your tattoo I’ll take you out to dinner?”

“Maybe after you finish, I’ll kiss you and tell you dinner sounds great?”

“Then maybe I should get to it? If you’re feeling ready?”

Anna nodded, wondering if ‘doing things right’ meant he’d do the things she’d been imagining to her after dinner. She wanted to see what he could do with his hands when he was trying to make her feel something. While he’d blamed it on the tattoo gun she was pretty certain her few moments of bliss had been owing more to his proximity and her keen imagination. She wondered what it might be like not to imagine.

“Absolutely.”

[ellanainthetardis]

so, quit some time ago already, i threatened you to post some prompts for Hayffie. if you're still willing to take them, here they follow: 1) HaDS - AU chapter 85:They got a real big fight and Haymitch actually suceeds 'cause Effie is ready to quit. And then he realizes he doesn't actually want her to quit. - 13Fische

A word of update first thing! I might not update ITGN tomorrow! We had conflicted schedules for beta-reading and I might not have access to wifi so it’s up in the air for now… I will keep you updated! [x]

One Gets Used To Effie Trinket

The glass hit the wooden counter of the barwith a dull sound and Haymitch waved at the Avox bartender to fill it again. Itwas late enough that the mentor lounge was completely deserted. Sometimes,voices floated to him as people passed in front of the room – victors, escortsand Gamemakers alike, all coming back from various parties – but for the mostpart it was completely silent saved for the discreet clicking of the glassesand bottles while the Avox cleaned.

“Come on, guys!” his best friend’s voicesuddenly boomed outside. “Just one more!”

“I think you had more than enough, Chaff.”Seeder gently rebuked but, even as she said it they all staggered inside theroom, so clearly drunk that Haymitch could hardly hide a frown of annoyance. Hewanted to get wasted in peace, not be forced to catch up with inebriatedpeople. Seeder and Wiress were clearly the most sober ones – which wasn’tsurprising – but Blight and Beetee were just as toasted as Chaff. “Oh, hello,Haymitch.”

“Hi.” he mumbled, downing his brand new drinkand pondering the merits of making his escape to the penthouse – or to a bar intown. Before he could do little more than wave the Avox for another refillthough, Chaff had tossed his good arm around his neck and had dragged him tothe table everyone else had sat at. “You’re strangling me.”

“Suits you well for having abandoned us tothose two.” Chaff sulked, nodding to Seeder and Wiress who exchanged an amusedsmile and an eye roll. “Where the fuckwere you, buddy? We missed you.”

“Seems like you had a good night all the same.”he snorted, dropping on the chair next to Blight. Seven’s victor had folded hisarms on the table and had propped his head on them, very obviously on the vergeof falling asleep right there and then. “He’s down for the count.”

“I will call Wilma, she can deal with him.”Seeder sighed.

Haymitch wasn’t sure Seven’s other mentor wouldbe really happy about that development but he let it slide.

“Is everything alright, Haymitch?” Wiressfrowned.

“He’s not drunk.” Beetee declared.

“Very astute observation.” Three female mentorretorted.

Beetee nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you.”

Haymitch chuckled a little, accepting the glassthe Avox placed in front of him with a quiet word of thanks. So maybe a drinkwith friends wouldn’t hurt. What was he even doing drinking in silence, beingangry and upset because…

“So, is everything alright?” Wiress pressed,reaching out to squeeze his hand.

“What’s up, buddy?” Chaff asked with a frown ofhis own, catching up even in his obvious state of drunkenness. “You don’t lookgood.”

“I’m fine.” he denied. “Celebrating actually.”It might have been more convincing if he hadn’t sounded so… dejected. He waited for one of the olderwomen to point it out but neither did, either out of respect or because theywere waiting for him to elaborate. He could elaborate. He could elaboratewithout any problem. Because he was glad. “Trinket’s finally quitting.”

“Yippee!”Chaff shouted, flinging both his good arm and his shorten one in the air. Hewas the only one to express any sort of joy though. Even Beetee, who seemedreally buzzed, looked at him like he knew better. And it was nothing comparedto the way Seeder and Wiress were both studying him. He didn’t say a word. Hisbest friend seemed to pick up on the not so happy mood though. “No yippee? Thought it was a yippee kind of things.”

“Oh, it’s yippeething alright.” he scoffed. “I’m gonna fuckingyodel once I’m drunk enough. Just letme get there.” He stole Chaff’s glass because his friend had had enough and he wasn’t even tipsy yet. He had beendrunk before but Trinket had soberedhim up with that stupid claim that… “I’m gonnaget there.”

“What did you do?” Seeder sighed.

“How is it myfault?” he snapped defensively before shaking his head. “Not that I fucking care. Good riddance. Three yearsof her is more than anyone can take.I’m happy. I’m fucking thrilled.She’s quitting. So what? I’m finallygonna have some peace. She’s just…She’s fucking impossible! Never stopstalking, never stops lecturing me about shitlike I’m some kid… She’s just… She’s…”

He stuttered to a halt, not quite able toremember why he wanted her gone that much.

“The best escort you ever had?” Seedersuggested sternly.

“She does look competent.” Wiress approved, alittle more hesitantly.

“Is she up for grab?” Chaff asked, suddenlymore interested. “‘Cause I’m so donewith Vile-ola.”

Haymitch could understand that, one year ofViola Summercket had been enough for him. Eleven’s escort really wasn’t nice.

“You heard what I said or what?” he spat, moreaggressively than necessary. “She ain’t getting promoted, she’s quitting.”

“But why? What happened?” Beetee cut in.

“She’s crazy.” he muttered. “What’s new?”

“Haymitch.” Seeder sighed.

“Oh, fuckoff!” he snapped, pushing himself up so violently that Blight startledawake, clearly confused, and looking for a threat. Wiress stole the bottle awaybefore he could hit someone with it but it was a close thing. He stormed outbefore his friends could ask more questions he didn’t want to answer. He wasalmost at the elevator when he heard the hurried and unsteady footsteps behind him.“Chaff, I’m really not in the mood.”

“I’m gonna help you.” his best friend promised.“We just have to talk to her. You don’t want her to quit, she ain’t quitting.Easy like that. I’m gonna tell her. Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care ofeverything for you.”

Haymitch shook his head, a smirk stretching hislips despite himself. “You’re wasted.”

“Beyond wasted.” Chaff dismissed. “Not thepoint. You’re in trouble, I’m coming to the rescue.”

He had all the troubles in the world convincinghis friend to stop on Eleven’s floor instead of striding into Trinket’s bedroomand dragging her out of bed so they could all have a talk. He didn’t want to have a talk. They had had enough talks. Talking was what had gotten theminto that situation in the first place. Talking led to fighting.

Fighting led to…

Fighting apparentlylet to the kind of things that had her quitting.

Well… Maybehe shouldn’t have said the thing he had said after they were done… doing the thing fighting led to.

He rubbed his eyes as the elevator chimed tolet him know he had arrived.

Fucking his escort against the wall wasn’t howhe had planned on spending the night.

There had been a moment of uncertainty betweenthe time he had finished and the time they had bolted apart, screamingaccusations and horrified comments at each other’s head. He hadn’t even losthis pants during the whole thing, they had just been opened enough for him to…And that skirt? How had he even found his target under that puffy skirt?

He didn’t know what had happened, truth betold.

They had been fighting, stuff had been said,buttons had been pushed, she had mentioned his Games, he had gone ballistic, she had tried to hit him, he had shoved her against thewall… Then they had been fucking. Notransition. And then they had been fighting again. He had told her how much shesucked in bed and she had hurled at his face that she was quitting. And when hehad challenged that ridiculous claim, she had repeated it again and again withmore conviction each time until she had stormed out and slammed her bedroomdoor shut.

He had expected to find the penthouse dark anduninviting. The light in the living-room was on and it was surprising enoughgiven the time of night that he walked there a little wary. He was half convincedhe would find a very displeased Head Gamemaker Torello – because the man hadbeen very clear he was done with Haymitch creating troubles for escorts – so hewas relieved to realize it was only Trinket.

“I hope you are not drunk enough that youcannot take yourself to bed because I will let you drown in your own sickwithout a single twitch of guilt.” she warned without even looking at him.

She was standing next to the bay windows,watching the city spread out underneath. She had discarded her heels and shelooked far too small without them, frail almost. The pink wig was still on herhead though and, not for the first time, he wondered if it was glued there. He had no clue what herreal hair looked like. He hadn’t gotten a glimpse of what was under that skirtand he was pretty sure that what he had touched had been hairless anyway. Hefound he was curious about that. Her hair color. He was curious about herbecause she refused to be just another drone like all the other escorts he haddriven to quit. She actually cared.Not just about winning or her image but she genuinely cared about the kids. Shemade him curious and in turn it made him mad because he had no business beingcurious about a Capitol.

“Ain’t drunk.” he spat.

“Good, this will make it easier then.” sheretorted haughtily, still not sparing a look for him. A glass of white wine washanging perilously from the tips of her fingers and he wondered if she was drunk. She didn’t even soundtipsy but with her it was always hard to tell. “I have thought long and hardabout your behavior earlier…”

“Mybehavior?” he scowled, interrupting her. “You’re the one who jumped on me,Trinket.”

“Unbelievable!”she huffed. “You have some nerves! You practically assaulted me…”

“You were the one doing the assaulting!” he growled.“Wasn’t the one trying to hit you.”

“Oh, so because I tried to slap you when youmost deserved it, it makes it alright for you to pin me against a wall and…”she hissed. She didn’t finish that thought though. She sighed, leaned forwarduntil her forehead was resting against the pane of the window, and clearly madean effort to add some cheer to her voice. “To be fair, there were two of us andI did not try to push you away.”

“To befair, your hands were all over my dick.” he sneered.

“You seemed to need some guidance.” shetaunted, finally turning around, fire in her eyes and an irritated pout on hermouth.

“Never needed any before.” he mocked. “Neverhad a complain either.”

“Your previous lovers must have poor expectations,then. I usually insist on my partner making me come at least once instead offinishing in a few strokes like the selfish greedy jerk you are.” shedeadpanned. “Do not kid yourself. It was not that good.”

“Thought we already established that earlier.”he shrugged.

That was what he had shouted at her. That shewasn’t good, not worth the trouble ofworking for it. That was what had made her say…

She glared at him but obviously made an effortto remain calm.

“What happened was a fluke.” she stated slowly.“Tempers were running high, we were emotional about our tributes still…”

“Don’t bring the kids into this.” he warned.The kids had died a brutal death and deserved better than to be used as anexcuse because they were fucked uppeople who had jumped each other’s bones right there like animals unable tocontrol themselves. “This is between you and me, Trinket.”

She pursed her lips, probably not quite happywith his tone, but waved her glass in the air with a dangerous carelessness.She was definitely not sober, hedecided.

“Fine.” she granted. “Still. It was a fluke. It certainly won’t happen again.”

“Never.” he snorted because that was for sure. He shrugged again.“Almost didn’t happen, yeah? Barelysaw anything what with that ugly thing on your back.” Her narrowed eyes wereenough warnings for him not to go too far down that road. She tolerated hisinsults on her fashion sense up to a point but he had clearly used all hisallotted gibes on the subject for the day. “I was drunk. You were upset…”

“It was over in ten minutes.” she nodded inagreement.

“Yeah, that’s not flattering for you or for meso…” He made a face. “Let’s forget about it, yeah?”  

“Yes.” she breathed out with complete relief.“And in the spirit of goodwill I will apologize for bringing up your Gamesearlier. I crossed a line.”

He took a deep breath because the mere mentionof the Quell…

“Okay.” he nodded. “Then I’m sorry I said youwere frigid.”

“You shouldbe because I am actually anythingbut.” she retorted without missing a beat, a sassy grin on her yellow paintedlips. “Too bad you will never find out.”

“Careful, sweetheart. You might give me ideas.”he smirked.

She shook her head at him, finished her glassand placed it down on the liquor cart in the corner of the room. “I am gladthis is resolved. Now… I advise going to bed. We have interviews scheduled inthe morning.”  

Although he inwardly groaned at the mention ofinterviews, he had hoped the conversation was headed that way and truly relaxedfor the first time since he had come back. “So you ain’t really quitting, then?”

She blinked twice, her fake eyelashes slowlyfluttering up and down, watching him with puzzlement. The perfect picture ofcandid innocence.

He knew better than to buy it.

“Why, I have no idea what you mean, Haymitch.” she laughed slowly. “Quitting?Why would I quit when I am so closeof getting promoted? I have a good feeling for next year. I am sure I will soonmove on to one of the Career Districts. Won’t you be relieved to be rid of me then?”

Her laughter was as fake as could be andHaymitch didn’t join in.

He didn’t dispute her statement either but heknew better.

One got used to Effie Trinket.

[almaasi]

reaction post typed while watching SPN 13x23 “Let The Good Times Roll”

idk what you guys thought but I LIKED IT and here’s why!!!! (EXCEPT THAT THING WITH THE KNIFE??? WHAT THE HELL???)

04:02pm

so it only took 45 minutes to an hour to find somewhere to watch this, my thanks to @trisscar368 for helping me out!!!

eventually found it streaming rather than downloading, would not recommend but HEY IT WORKS (for now) [http://gorillavid.in/zbtu97hfei65]

this feels like it’s 2008 all over again, trying to watch doctor who after school

OKAY LET’S GO

i’ve seen a bunch of major spoilers but i know cas doesn’t die so i’m good. apparently it’s A Boring Episode but also MICHEAL and LUCIFER so

idk idk let’s just watch the thing and find out what happens

-

04:04

rowena: is there, i dunno, music? CARRY ON MYY WAYWAR---

fuck

-

04:09pm

feels good having bobby there

-

BOBBY’S REACTION TO TRUMP IS THE BEST EVER

“and you call where WE come from ‘apocalypse world’?”

-

04:11

cas: “they’re talking about whether kylie jenner would make a good mother. consensus is no”

hey give her a chance

i mean i know nothing about her but she seems... teachable?

-

dean: “yeah well, that’s why i’m a chloe man”

WHOOOOOP dean loves his girly trash tv i see

-

brown werewolf: “now that is why i’m a chloe man”

dead brown person alert :|

how naive i was to think he might be left alive because he got a speaking line and made himself a dean parallel with that single line

-

04:16

mary: “do you really like the rain?”

bobby: “when it’s this beautiful, i do”

lest anyone forget bobby is a gentle down to earth sweetheart

soft papa bear

-

“rowena and charlie are road-tripping it through the south-west”

WOULD WATCH THAT SPINOFF

but #savewaywardsisters first

-

04:19

dean: “can you imagine? you, me, cas, toes in the sand, couple of those little umbrella drinks, matching hawaiian shirts, obviously”

PLEASE

“....some hula girls“

mmmm *squints at how that part was said after a....... pause, off-screen with the camera on sam*

-

04:24

dean to jack: “it’s not about being strong....... i don’t know what you went through over there... but i know you came out the other side. because you ARE strong”

good papa dean words

much love for him and his emotional avaliability

-

04:26

dean: “whatever you’re dealing with, whatever comes at us, we’ll figure out a way to deal with it. together. we’re family, kid”

sam said it to dean, dean said it to jack

i guess the next step is ...jack saying it to cas?? SOMEONE’s gotta say it to cas

but also WOOOO DEAN’S CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT REGARDING JACK SINCE THE START OF THE SEASON

-

04:32

um

is it just me or is this a seriously unfortunate racist-looking coincidence

desperately hoping this wasn’t the guy who killed maggie

(i don’t think it is, which means maybe this is a “don’t jump to conclusions” kind of storyline which has a race-relations subtext??? i wish it meant nothing besides jack’s need to protect others, but given the lack of living characters of colour on this show, the minute a person of colour shows up, it BECOMES about the fact they’re not white, bECAUSE they always die, invariably)

anyway, my point is: this is problematic

also the red shirt. as in “red shirts always die” ??

edit: thank goodness....... RED HERRING

-

“3 sheeps” poster in the background

i remember this symbolism from something earlier but can’t remember exactly what

i’m thinking lambs to the slaughter, or being part of a flock, or being herded into something they’re wrong about, being naive, following each other one by one into the unknown

wow reading tarot has improved my “make a list of all the obvious symbolism” skills

-

04:39

the fact cas is suffering with the angel language whistle is interesting?? i thought it hurts dean because he can’t understand it

which means.......cas isn’t understanding this noise?

or maybe he is understanding, it’s just real loud

-

04:42

enjoying sam being protective of cas

-

lucifer: ........”the three amigos.... sam, dean, and the other one”

that’s probably how a lot of people see team free will tbh

how sad

-

lucifer: “you want a lightsaber?”

jack:

vroom

we mAY HAVE LONG SAID HE’S TOO PRECIOUS FOR THIS WORLD BUT WE NEVER MEANT FOR HIM TO LEAVE

-

04:50

that awkward moment when you’re trying to solve a murder and your adorable magic grandson comes home with the devil

:o

-

the face you make when the devil makes an ableist joke about your son and then says “no offence”

(the ”i would murder you but there’s enough dead bodies in here right now” face)

-

04:56

maggie: “kinda seems like you have... you know, bigger.... satan-y... problems”

bless this girl

-

05:00

dean: “as shakespeare once said: eat me, dick-bag”

tbh shakespeare probably did say that at one point or another

add shakespeare to the list of dean’s bisexual heroes

(follow up thought: what if when cas could time-travel, he and dean and sam went to go explore shakespeare’s town and dean made.... Friends)

-

05:04

lucifer’s talking to jack about their future space travels

i mean i think it’s fairly obvious, lucifer was the one who killed maggie, so he could bring her back and impress jack

maggie said “i didn’t see their face but i saw their eyes” and that means it was either lucifer or michael with the glowing eyes, and micheal said to dean “you’ll be the first life i take in this world” which leaves lucifer

stinking nasty manipulative trash angel

-

05;07

micheal, while strangling dean: “could’ve done this quick, but i wanted to enjoy it, that moment when the soul leaves the body”

yeeeah okay sure, speak aloud your reasons you’re stalling for time while jack figures out how to get back

-

05:10

jack to lucifer: “you’re not my father. you monster”

HUZZAH

-

for the record i’m... reaLLY ENJOYING THIS episode so far

it’s all big and mighty and magical but the core of the story is a boy trying to find his family and figure out the truth behind his manipulative father

i’m so glad it led to this because i am HERE for this kind of story

the world hangs in the balance, but it’s not dean, cas and sam trying to save everyone, it’s jack trying to find his place among loved ones, and by following his desire to help people he’s learning what he needs to know

i fucking love this okay

-

05:14

lucifer: i just need your power--

OH NO I SPOKE TOO SOON

OH NO

-

05:17

michael: “this is the end. of everything”

I SEE DEAN’S COGS WHIRRING AND I WORRY

nine years of not saying yes to micheal and now it’s happening isn’t it

-

05:20

jack’s pained little whimper :c :c :c

-

05:21

dean: “i am your sword”

CHILLS

-

05:22

dean: “CAS I DON’T HAVE A CHOICE”

cas: D:

PERFECT MOMENT FOR AN AGGRESSIVE KISS but nope that would be too much like goodbye

-

05:24

third option rather than sam or jack trying to kill each other: they pick up lucifer’s blade and kill lucifer with it

-

05:26

WHAT 

NO

??????

BAD IDEA????

JUST STAB LUCIFER????

-

jack:  i love you

NOO ;;A;A;A;A;A;A;A;;A;A

DJSGJD

I’M NOT ENJOYING THIS 0/10 WOULD NOT RECOMMEND 

PLEASE STOP

-

05:27

WELL FUCK

hi there

WHHHOOOOOOO

meanwhile back at the bunker: cas has the weirdest traumatic boner

-

05:29

THE WINGS KEEP GETTING BIGGER

-

05:31

interesting angel flying physics here

dean flails while sailing slowly backwards

i mean i know he’s on a suspension wire but technically waving his arms about ought to affect his position

-

05:33

LITERALLY SAM COULD’VE DONE THAT TO BEGIN WITH

WHAT EVEN WAS THE POINT OF THIS

HE COULD’VE ACTED LIKE HE WAS ABOUT TO STAB JACK AND THEN GO WHOOSH AND STAB LUCIFER

SAM HAS FUCKING NOODLE ARMS HE COULD’VE DONE IT WITH HIS EYES CLOSED

JEEZ

-

05:35

okay but i’m laughing right now

are you telling me this is what happens if lucifer accidentally trips and falls on his knife

where did that golden blade come from anyway

has lucifer just been carrying it around this whole time?

COULD ANYONE HAVE PICKPOCKETED THAT KNIFE AND STABBY STABBY >>> EXPLODING FLYING FLAME DEVIL ??

WHAT BRAIN CELLS WAS LUCIFER MISSING TO HAND THAT BLADE TO SAM WINCHESTER IN THE FIRST PLACE

OR GO INTO BATTLE WITH MICHAEL WITHOUT THE KNIFE

OR TO HAVE THAT BLADE ON HAND IN THE FIRST PLACE ??????????

I’m sorry i just find this hilarious

i mean good fucking riddance to this trash angel but wow what a way to get there

all of this was so easily avoidable ?? i seriously don’t understand what possessed sam to think “aw yeah let’s pick up this magic devil blade to KILL MY OWN SON and/or HAND IT TO HIM SO HE CAN KILL ME” instead of “umMMM the devil just gave me a magic knife and is trying to tell us to kill each other maybe we should kill him with it”

I HOPE SOMEONE IN THE WRITER’S ROOM HAS A REALLY GOOD EXPLANATION FOR THIS

-

05:45

HAPPY RELIEVED SAMMY

why do i feel like everything’s about to go terribly terribly wrong, worse than before

-

05:48

i mean micheal!dean looks good though

despite everything i think dean would approve of the outfit

-

like he actually looks a little bit TOO attractive

definitely not to be trusted

you know when people just look TOO handsome and shiny and perfect and they’re TOO charming and you know something’s up

this guy’s got danger written all over him in sleek & elegant calligraphy

-

05:50pm

mmmmmmmmm okay, it’s over

i liked it ?

felt old-school, kinda like a buffy episode or an x-files episode

things i’m happy about: everyone lived and lucifer died!! this is a pretty cool progression of events and i’m interested to see where it goes (not EXCITED, i’m not EAGER, but i am interested). that black dude was not the one who killed maggie. maggie survived!!!

things i’m not thrilled about: the fact sam didn’t just stab lucifer in the face when he was right next to him holding the magic knife?????? i don’t get it and i don’t think any kind of meta is actually gonna be able to explain how ~UM EXCUSE ME JUST ONE SECOND~esque that moment was

no bechdel test pass

jack’s personal arc this season was great and i love him

as always, this show is riveting to me only because i care so much about the characters, and i cannot tELL YOu how fucking pleased i am that this show’s universe is now a universe where bobby, charlie, mary, rowena, dean, cas, sam, jack, jody, donna, claire, the other wayward girls, and billie ALL EXIST AND ARE ALIVE

seriously could’ve done with some kevin too, i’m still bummed that he’s died TWICE now and isn’t back permanently yet

but HOLY SHIT THE REST OF THEM ARE ALL ALIVE 

GIVE ME A TEAM-FREE-WILL-MAJOR SEASON WITH ALL THE SQUAD ALIVE AND KICKING ASS AS A GROUP

like... save dean as a group, then one by one discover that dean and cas have been locked in a room without clothes for three days, then save the world and retire forever as a happy, healthy hunter squad with their gay dads

FUCK YEAH

overall, this episode is maybe a 9/10 just because that FUCKING KNIFE man. i dunno what to think about that.

like .........why

i also want cas to have a season arc!!! a positive one!!! where he actually accepts love and expresses affection and receives AUDIBLE AND VISIBLE AND TANGIBLE affection from others!!!

and for fuck’s sakes stop killing people of colour, give us more women of colour who are good and don’t die, pass the bechdel test more often

AND ABOVE ALL GIVE US WAYWARD SISTERS I WANT THAT SHOW SO BADLY AND EVERYTHING IT REPRESENTS

IT WOULD FILL IN ALL THE GAPS THAT ARE MISSING FROM THIS SHOW

PLEASE

[leonawriter]

I think something that has to be kept in mind when writing a Sephiroth who is what some authors categorise as ‘sane’ - i.e.; not believing in a worldview that is heavily tinted with Jenova’s input, inclusive of ‘I hate everything and the world should burn’, ‘despair is a great thing and you should try it out, Cloud’, and ‘I am either the last Ancient and all humans are disgusting or Jenova’s vessel and humans are disgusting and I think I’m gonna destroy this world and rule another as its god’ - is that, well...

He’s still the same person?

He doesn’t stop being the person who, Jenova’s influence or not, thought those were perfectly fine ideas at the time.

No amount of ‘it was Jenova’s fault’ or ‘but he isn't murderous now’ will erase the fact that what caused his mental state to become vulnerable was that he literally started to hate completely everything because of how he’d been treated, the complete lack of support system he had in the end, and what was probably a innumerable number of frustrations and things that had made him feel angry and outraged at Shinra, and lose faith in the world in general, for years.

This. This is not someone who would come to and look at somewhere he did something, and go “what was I thinking?!”. He’s way more likely to look, feel shaken and maybe somewhat sick, and go “I thought that was a good idea at the time. I remember thinking that was a good idea at the time. I remember thinking it was good, and now I don’t, and I feel disgusted with myself.” Or even, “Is it wrong, and will these people trying to help me, feel distrustful of me if I say that I don’t regret this one thing I did during that time, because I would do it again?”

The last one is in response to certain events that happen perhaps earlier on, such as how Sephiroth’s first action upon commandeering a part of Jenova had been to kill President Shinra. Or, how at one point he kills a Midgar Zolom, which is a monster, and I can see there being some confusion, because... what’s the right reaction for something like this? Pride in his abilities, or... not, simply because of the influence he was under at the time? 

I can well imagine that if the death of President Shinra was brought up, other people might come out with how they aren’t actually all that sorry for the old man getting killed like that. He’d know how to deal with feeling the need to apologise and atone for things, but the idea that something barely even registers as ‘wrong’ to these people would be... strange, and he wouldn’t necessarily know how to react or respond to that.

But like... back on topic, I think that the anger and resentment from before, it would definitely not vanish.

Like... yeah, I can make an argument for the ‘Woobie Destroyer Of Worlds’ trope, but. That’s only looking at things from a complete outsider’s point of view, and someone who has absolutely no attachment to the other characters, at that. 

If nothing else, no matter how much anyone might not want to hear it, anyone approaching Sephiroth after any sort of ‘true resurrection’ would have to earn his trust just as much as he would have to earn theirs. It wouldn’t be pretty. 

There would probably be a lot of times when his temper would flare up? And people would take it as ‘were we really that stupid?’, and yet actually, what’s happening isn’t Jenova’s leftover influence so much as that this guy’s been through shit. He’s had the only two friends (and support system) he ever had betray him, and the last one of which a) he saw Zack trying to stop him after he’d burned down Nibelheim as another betrayal, even though he’d see it differently in a clearer mindset, and b) fought and tried/nearly did kill the guy. 

He was probably brought up by Hojo and associated scientists, so... his idea of ‘what I am comfortable with doing and/or happening to me’ is probably really fucked up. Boundaries? What are they? He might have times where he practically lets everyone do with him as they wish, and others where he’s so damn completely contrary they want to strangle him back into the lifestream.

His idea of how to control emotions comes from that time too, and is a mixture of - as I see it - being nurtured into this sense of ‘only do or express something if it’s practical to the situation at hand’, ‘Hojo will be unhappy if he hears that I am doing this’, and the sense of military responsibility that came with being a child soldier on a campaign at the age of twelve. So those temper flares? He’s testing his boundaries and limitations of what is okay and what isn’t, and he is going to get ugly frustrated and angry at the fact that he probably, in most likelihood, can’t stay as calm or level-headed as he’d like.

Because... and here’s the thing. 

PTSD, and if you don’t write a returned/functional Sephiroth as having PTSD then I am judging you, is not always just guilt, survivor’s guilt, anime atonement, and flashbacks.

It’s a trigger being any damn thing it wants to be, and at the worst times, because that thing made you capable of dealing with, or comfortable at a time your mind is trying to forget, and the fact that it made you feel okay doesn’t matter, it’s a strong tie, and it’s going to bring up trauma.

It’s sometimes having issues with other people who have similar problems, and god, why am I like this, because you know you’re being unreasonable but you can’t stop it. Projecting that if you can deal with this, then they should push their issues down or act in a way that suits you, rather than them. Or, perhaps, being angry with yourself that you can’t be functional, so you take it out on other people anyway.

It’s thinking you’re okay, and then the next moment things have gone to shit and you’ve frozen up and it’s only later when you realise why.

And many, many other things.

All of which would be really hard for someone like Sephiroth, who is used to the idea of being the perfect weapon - for Shinra, for Jenova - and now isn’t. He’d have this view of himself that starts to crack, first slowly and then all at once, and he’d have to be rebuilding himself from pretty much the ground up, since all of his ideas of who he was are now up in smoke. (SOLDIER? SOLDIER is gone. The Wutai war is over, and the Wutaians actually have more respect than Midgardians in some places. Jenova? Gone, and good riddance, when he doesn’t miss the sense of permanence and purpose. And so many more things were just lies.)

So.... yeah. I’ve only done one fic where he comes back after any period of time, but it’s with a lot of these things in mind, rather than the idea that he was purely taken over, and he’s really quite prickly, with a dark sense of humour. After all, as I’ve seen someone say recently, ‘it’s gallows humour when you’re the one on the gallows.’