#I don't know if I would have hated him half as much if they'd gone by any other route to introduce him

[elmendea]

SO. This piece of work.

I honestly thought Halbrand being Sauron would have been so on the nose, but somehow, they managed to make it absolutely fucking terrifying.

Think about it. He was pulling every single thread from the very beginning, with deadly purpose and terrifying precision. He knew exactly was he was doing at every step, the whole time. 

Yes, even if he was feeling repentant at any point, as published canon tells us he was -- I’ll be damned if he didn’t always have the option to completely drop the repentant ordinary life in Númenor the minute he ran into something that forced his hand, like Galadriel did, in the back of his mind. Or, even if she hadn’t -- the minute he got bored of playing ordinary smith.

And he would have. Yes, yes, he would -- he has a mind like a subtle knife. The very second he got bored...

He let Galadriel learn the truth about him. He had no reason to keep playing peaceful king -- he’d seen Celebrimbor at work, seen the elves’ panic first hand, seen Mordor take shape, seen all the key pieces having been moved into the right places.

He could have spun an actual, spoken lie, this time: that the line of the kings hadn’t been broken, that he was the very last survivor of a bloodline that had hidden itself for centuries. It would have been as easy to him as breathing.

But where’s the fun in that? Where’s the conquest? Why reign over an insignificant little mortal kingdom when you can have all of Middle-earth gripped in an iron fist?

Who wants mere subjects when you can have worshippers? 

Fuck repentance. Let the true king finally take what’s his. Tell Galadriel the truth.

Again.

That’s all he ever did. Not one lie, not once.

He is so horrifically good at what he does that he doesn’t even need to lie to deceive people.

He’s Sauron the Deceiver, after all.

[mecachrome]

Would you like to do a summary of what Oscar said in this podcast? I would be super grateful!

sure anon! tbh most of the questions were pretty banal but:

talked about choosing op81, being competitive as a child, balancing his calm/competitive side, sacrificing his life in australia to pursue his professional racing dreams etc.

said the fact that the car being bad didn't really "remove pressure" because his benchmark was lando regardless, that he had faith in mclaren but didn't think they'd be this competitive in just a year and a half, mentioned again choosing them because it felt good to be wanted + andrea being one of the primary drivers behind their success ("i never really like putting it down to one person, and i know the person i'm about to mention doesn't like it either" hehe)

re: his r/s with lando "i like to think that hopefully we've been able to boost each other a bit"

on what young oscar would have thought of hungary: "i think firstly he wouldn't have believed it, that it was him, but he would have been incredibly happy. i don't think he would have gone through like... the pride and the emotions of it, but he probably would have been like :D hell yeah, i just won my first f1 race!"

on conservative call to protect 1-2: "i think it's the trust they have in lando and i that they swapped us around like that, knowing that it would be swapped back"

said he and lando don't hang out "that much" outside of races ("i mean we see enough of each other at the races" 😭) but that they need to play padel and he recently got a car in monaco so he can actually drive to it now LOL

there's this bit on what he thinks of life as an f1 driver and he's basically like (air quotes) (reluctant to call it fame) you can't really prepare for "fame" and that it's weird to get recognized off-track but he knows he has to Appreciate The Fans and it's not necessarily Bad but just like....... something you can't train for

says he doesn't have anything he's hugely passionate about outside of racing since he's still focused on that but he likes good food and his favorite dish to make is honey soy salmon 🍣

favorite pre-race breakfast atm is poached eggs on toast, lissie mentioned it being lando's answer last year and he goes "well he's not a big fan of fish in case no one's noticed... and i used to get smoked salmon and he used to absolutely hate it" 😭 #whipped

on what he wants people to know about him: "i think a lot of people think i'm very calm, which i think i am. but that i have... i still have my moments. you know, you need the odd moment of rage here and there, and some people like think i'm just... a complete flat line. but i do have my moments"

not the most interesting hklsdh but i hope this is useful :')

[isa-ghost]

phil and cellbit hcs?

VESPER YOUR MIND...

qPhil headcanons masterlist

When Phil needs answers on something, he goes straight to Cellbit (at least pre-Purgatory, he's switched to Bagi over the months bc they've gotten much closer).

Another reason he's so pissed abt the reset is bc the Feds took them the fuck away from The Order, which had all of Cellbit's tools for figuring out the weird new shit they encounter on QI

ANOTHER reason Phil hates the reset is bc there's not much weird shit going on over here? It's just?? Capitalism?? There's nothing to take pictures of for Cellbit. And he really misses dropping an entire goldmine of new pictures for theorizing on Cellbit and watching how excited he gets about it :(

See, Phil and Cellbit were close prior to Purgatory; look at the Order, Phil picking his domain (idr their formal names), etc. But Purgatory did.. something. I mean, it did something to all of Bolas, but something extra to these two's friendship. The leader role, the way Cellbit fell into a sort-of second in command & substitute when Phil wasn't around, Phil (was meant to be) rescuing Cellbit & Baghs. It was teamwork and brothers in arms shit to a degree they'd previously not reached. It's permanently intensified their bond and trust in each other. Which I can't wait to see unfold if Cellbit keeps getting worse. >:D

It's a 50/50 if Phil is concerned about Cellbit's (re)rising murderous tendencies and potentially "resurfacing" cannibal habits or if he's just like "Haha, friend is stabby, lookit him go. :)"

I have a hot take. Roier to Etoiles in Purgatory is Cellbit to Phil. Loyal attack dog more than happy to create bloodshed for their equally scary leader. The authority aspect has kinda gone away post-Purgatory but Cellbit will still kill a man if Phil says do it. Phil wouldn't ask that of him if he didn't have a good reason.

Phil is super awed and inspired by Cellbit's building skills. Idiot will be like "damn, wish I could build like that" as if he can't. Bitch you just refuse to!!! (I want these two to build something big and sick together so bad)

I don't know how things would've played out if Cellbit was present for EK possession things but I know it would've been fucked up and intense. And I can't explore it in AMFMN because Cellbit & Baghera are still missing in it. 😔

That said, Cellbit gets told Phil was possessed by some old piece of shit he used to know and is immediately like "Phil I will fight god for you, I don't give a FUCK"

Phil absolutely loves watching Richas take on more and more of Cellbit's unhinged traits. He's a bit worried he's gonna become a little ball of murder too, but Richas has like half the fucking island as parents, he'll be fiiiiiine.

I don't remember if qPhil knows about the Purgatory 2 murder spree stuff but I like to think he doesn't yet because boy would his reaction be spicy :) If he does know and I've forgotten, he 100% didn't entirely process just How fucked it was.

As close as they've become and as,, kinda chill? Phil has been about the whole murder thing?? He's still deeply worried about Cellbit in other ways post-Purgatory. Dude's seemed withdrawn, he can't remember the last time he saw him with Roier, and just overall things have been different to a degree Phil is sure isn't normal or a slow bounce-back period. But every time he has a free moment to check in, Cellbit's never around.

Actually, as Cellbit gets worse, I think Phil will go from chill with how things have been worsening to Oh Fuck because he's gonna see a lot of his Antarctic self in him. It's not like Phil isn't proud of that era or anything, but. Mentally and emotionally? Being cold and merciless like that takes a toll. One Cellbit shouldn't subject himself to.

Phil cannot for the life of him Not laugh whenever Pac brings up the whole. Leg eating thing. Pac is so out of pocket about it nowadays bc it happened so long ago and Phil gets whiplash from the casual jokes every time. I think if Cellbit made jokes about it Phil would keel over.

Just out of spite and for the sake of clarity: Phil is not Cellbit's fucking parental figure. Cellbit is not his son. They are grown ass men. They are friends. Colleagues. Confidants if we wanna stretch things a bit. There is nothing familial about their bond.

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Its not a fanfic, but I was watching the 4 episode of the 4 season of Chicago pd...

There's this interrogation moment and the thing that gets In my head is the way Hank Voight said Baby, its soo sexy and warm that I can't stop blushing over the ideia of how will sound in a romantic or sexual moment...not to mention the bright smile in his face...

Just a random thought on this Rainy sunday..

I don't know if you want to check the episode soo you can understand what I write

Hank Voight x Fem!Reader Blurb

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like this!

Hank pushed open the door to his house, sighing as he pulled his keys from the lock and set them in the dish nearby. He shut the door behind him, finding relief from the cold Chicago winters. Shrugging off his coat, he hung it on the nearby coat rack, along with his scarf. Moving a bit further into the house, he set his badge next to his keys, keeping his service weapon on his hip, just in case. He wouldn't leave anything to chance with his gun, as always. Then, he kicked off his shoes and pushed them aside.

Truthfully, it had been a hard day. They hadn't been able to track down a pedophile they'd been hunting. Typically, that meant Hank practically lived in his office, but it had been weeks and the trail had gone cold. He hated the cases he couldn't solve, and he knew his team was feeling the same way. Morale was low, so he forced everyone home for the night, including himself. He told them to rest, although he didn't plan on resting much himself. He walked into his dining room and to the liquor he had out on display, pouring himself a hefty glass of bourbon. Then, he sank down into a chair at his dining room table, settling in and pulling out his phone.

No new texts or calls.

He hummed and set the phone on the table, sitting in silence as he sipped the bourbon. He stared at the phone, contemplating what he should do. He knew if he went to bed, he would simply lie awake, so it wasn't something he wanted to do. He sat at the table, sipping the oaky sweet liquid until it was gone. Then, he got up and refilled his glass once more.

When he moved back to the table, he sat down and looked at his phone again, sipping once more before picking up the phone. He scrolled through his contacts until he got to the name he was looking for. He didn't call often, but when he did, he meant it. He needed it.

He pressed the 'call' button, then waited for the sweet voice on the other end to answer.

"Sugar, how are you?" your voice rang from the other end.

Hank hummed, giving a small, half-hearted smile. "Baby... I would be better if you came over tonight."

"Sure, I'll be over in a little while."

-

When you arrived, you knocked on the door. It was a soft knock, allowing him to hear without you drawing outside attention to his house. You were his dirty little secret. Even though he only called you once every few months, you were always happy to spend the night with him. Since his wife had died, he sometimes just needed a woman to take care of him.

Hank opened the door after a short moment, allowing you to step inside before closing it. He helped you take your coat off, revealing a blouse with jeans that fit you just right. You kicked off your shoes and set them neatly beside his, then stood again to look at him. You smiled softly, kissing his cheek as he pulled you into an embrace. "Hey, baby..."

You smiled. "Hi, sugar. I'm glad you called." You'd always greeted him like this. You didn't know much about Hank Voight outside of his street representation. You knew he was a cop and you'd seen him around the city once or twice. You also knew that he knew everything about you, and when he needed a favor, you'd be inclined to help him. You'd taken to calling him 'sugar' because he was always so sweet with you, sweeter than he was with anyone else you'd seen him interact with. You always expressed how happy you were that he called, considering you also knew he liked to drink when he didn't have someone beside him.

"I'm glad you came, baby." He called you baby. Of course Hank knew your real name, and you knew his, but the two of you always called each other by these pseudonyms. It was simply just a thing you did. You didn't mind. The way the word 'baby' rolled off his tongue, in his deep voice, it made you shudder. You loved the way he spoke to you and the way he held you.

When he finally let you pull back, he didn't let you go. You could tell he was already two or three drinks in, although he held himself together pretty well. He was a lot softer when he was drinking like this, trying to make the memories of the day go away. He held you softly by the waist, humming as he looked over you.

"How have you been, sugar?" You moved your hand up to his face, stroking your thumb over the apple of his cheek. Hank shrugged and leaned into your touch. He didn't answer, but you could tell he wanted to talk about it. You pushed closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He returned your kiss by holding you closer, tilting his head to pull you in deeper, your lips moving in sync. After a blissful moment, the two of you pulled away, looking at one another. He pressed his forehead to yours, sighing softly.

"Pedophile case," he mumbled. "Couldn't catch him."

"Aw, sugar," you whispered, wrapping your hand around to the nape of his neck, stroking at the hair there softly. "I'm sorry... Those cases are always hard..."

Hank sighed softly, closing his eyes as he leaned into your every touch. "We tried for weeks... I've barely slept. We just... We couldn't get to him. He slipped through our fingers with every victim." He sighed shakily, and you could tell he was on the verge of crying.

Your heart ached for the man who was in so much pain. Losing his wife, his son, his best friend, and so many others took a toll on him. Again, he didn't call you often, but when he did, you always knew you had to come. He was dealing with too much pain, and by the time he called you, he was desperate. You let out a soft breath, kissing him again softly, then pulling back to lead him over to the nearby couch. You sat him down, straddling his lap, holding his face in your hands. He hadn't turned on many lights, so the darkness engulfed the two of you as you leaned down, kissing his lips with a sweet, soft embrace.

As he sat with you, he pulled you even closer. He didn't want to cry, but it was coming out. He pulled away, sniffling softly, his eyes wet. You pressed your forehead to his. "It's okay to cry, sugar... It's always okay to cry." He let out a soft sob, holding you tighter by your waist and back, pressing closer to you, as close as possible. "I've got you, I'm not leaving, sugar. I'm right here."

He nodded as he moved to press his head into your shoulder and neck, still crying softly. “These weeks have been so tough… I just… wanted to save them…”

“I know, sugar, I know…”

“I wanted to take them home to their families!” He sobbed, clinging to you for life, maybe a bit too hard. You knew you would come back with some bruises tomorrow, but you didn’t truly care. It had happened before, and people teased you about getting some rough sex, but you never gave in. You never told them what actually happened.

You winced silently, but clung to him as tightly as you could as well, knowing he wanted reciprocation. When you pressed into him tighter, he let go of you a bit, probably realizing how hard he was holding you.

After a few hours, Hank calmed down to a sleep, and you moved to lay him down, laying on top of him for a while. Then, you pushed yourself up when you were sure he was asleep, grabbing a blanket and casting it over his body. You leaned down and gave him a kiss, then grabbed yourself something to eat. It was nearly 4AM now, so you made sure everything was set, including his alarm for 6:45am. You locked his door and left out the back, hoping he would call you again soon, knowing he needed it.

[acatnamedkitten]

Too Many Beds-RadioHusk

Drabble(700w)-Reverse trope writing prompts

They took shelter in a mattress store. This year's extermination had come earlier in the day than normal and caught the pair out and about.

Because, of course, Alastor had waited until the last fucking second to decide he needed a new cable for his transmitting board.

"Of course, it can't wait, Husker. What if the shop is destroyed? What if the owners are killed? What if those lousy picture boxes start reporting the damages before I do?"

And Satan forbid he go by himself.

Husk sighed and flopped down on a mattress. The owners must have gone out of town for the extermination, but at least they'd boarded up the shop beforehand.

With the lights off and the incredibly soft bed, Husk figured it was as good a time as any to take a nap. It wasn't like Alastor could get them out of there.

Using his magic now would only alert the Angels to their presence. So, Alastor laid down a few mattresses away, meditating to lower his magical expenditure.

🎙️🪽🦌🐈‍⬛🦌🐈‍⬛🦌🐈‍⬛🪽🎙️

At some point, there was an almighty crash just outside the shop. Husk startled awake, just barely managing to stifle his yowl of alarm.

With his heart trying to beat out of his chest, Husk sat frozen, waiting for something else to happen. But nothing ever did. There wasn't even the sound of fighting out on the street.

Sighing, Husk got up in search of a bathroom. By the time he'd stumbled back to the sales floor, he was already half asleep again. Eyes closed, he shuffled over to where he'd been laying. Not really caring if it was the same bed or not, Husk flopped down and promptly fell back asleep.

🎙️🪽🦌🐈‍⬛🦌🐈‍⬛🦌🐈‍⬛🪽🎙️

"Husker"

"~Husker~"

Husk grumbled. Laying on his stomach, wings spread, he wrapped his arms further underneath his pillow and nuzzled into it. He was too cozy for whatever it was Alastor wanted.

"Husker, wake ~uuup~"

Husk flexed and shifted, gripping his pillow tighter, lest Alastor pull it away like he so often did. "No."

Even with his face all but hidden, Alastor still managed to boop his nose. "Yes!"

"Don't wanna," He mumbled, turning his face the other way.

His bed was so soft, and his wings felt so nice all spread out, and he was all warm and cozy, and his pillow smelled so good. It was like coffee and rain and old pennies and...

Husk froze.

Alastor.

His pillow smelled like Alastor.

Alastor was laying on the bed with him, one leg on either side of Husk's torso.

He had his head on Alastor's stomach; his arms were around Alastor's waist.

He was using Alastor as a pillow.

HOW???

He'd been a few mattresses away when... he'd...

Oh shit.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

Suddenly, Alastor's hands found his ears. Husk, taunt as a bow string and ready to fly, flinched at the initial contact.

But Alastor didn't pull his ears. Or flick them. Or pinch them. Or any of the other things he usually did to piss Husk off.

No. This time... This time his clawed fingertips were gentle. They scratched around the base of his ears, trailing back and forth.

"Now, now. No need to get all riled up. You were just having a dream is all, and I know how much you hate those."

Alastor trailed scritches down between Husk's eyes, then up and over to the base of his skull. Despite how tense he was, Husk couldn't help but melt under the gentle ministrations.

Before he could think about it, Husk found himself letting out a content sigh and leaning into Alastor's touch.

Objectively, Husk knew that Alastor was capable of softness and affection. He saw the demon interact with Rosie and Niffty, after all. But never before had Husk been on the receiving end of Alastor's gentler touches.

"That's it. Just relax."

With the sense of imminent danger gone, Husk's fatigue came back in full force.

Fuck it. He thought. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, right? At least he isn't biting my head off for laying on him.

If Alastor randomly waking him up—claiming Husk was dreaming—was payback for falling asleep on the guy, Husk could live with that. He did make a really good pillow, after all.

But Husk didn't dream. He hadn't dreamed since before the war; he only ever had—

...Had...

...Had Alastor woken him up from a nightmare?

[ravensvirginity]

I think Titans #10 actually exemplifies a lot of what has weakened about Raven's character over the years. Take this panel:

This would be shocking if NTT Raven said it! Her pacifism is so well established that this would be an immediate glaring red flag that something is wrong with her! It is meant to be out of character for her here, as this is her demon side speaking, but it loses a lot of impact because there has been no attention paid to Raven's pacifism. We don't even know if she's even meant to be from Azarath in this current run.

Because they've distanced themselves so much from Raven's original backstory and vital parts of her characterization, this moment falls flat. While what she did (cutting her brother's arm off) is more brutal than her usual attack style, there's been nothing in this run to suggest she shies away from offensive attacks. It's not even particularly egregious by superhero standards: he's a demon, and we can assume his arm will grow back or otherwise be magically healed, and he was threatening a lot of people when she attacked him. It's even less dramatic than NTT's ongoing conflict of Kory thinking the Titans should kill their enemies and everyone else having a more merciful approach.

Then there's the distancing of actual Raven (I refuse to call her Rachel) from anything her demon side does. She's literally imprisoned in a gem. It isn't even her body committing these evil acts. A lot of the impact in the original Terror of Trigon arc is that it really is Raven doing all this; Raven, who's been worn down for years both in universe and out of it, finally snapping and becoming a villain.

This, in contrast, has about as much impact as if Trilogy was the main villain of this story. I do like the angle this comic is going of having demon Raven pretending to still be her normal self among the Titans, but having normal Raven be a physical separate person who's in magic prison really weakens it. It's not as far as I can tell that it's meant to be a trapped aspect of her soul, it seems like she's just an entirely separate person from her evil self. Demon Raven even calls normal Raven her sister.

It's meant to be more figurative (at least I sure hope it is) but it just drives in how severe the degree of separation between normal Raven and demon Raven has gotten. Nothing about this story would change if demon Raven was Raven's shapeshifting half-sister. Contrasted to something like Terror of Trigon, where Raven being the same person, just corrupted into something unrecognizable, is so central to the entire plot and theme, it feels a lot cheaper and less impactful.

I just think this arc could be so much better without the weird complete division of Raven and demon Raven as separate people. Instead of having both Raven and demon Raven be physically separate people, they could've still gone with the gem thing as a sort of projection in Raven's mind, with her good side locked up in it. They still share the same body, it's just different aspects of her soul fighting each other.

I don't hate this story, but it's frustrating because it feels like it could be so much better if just more care was put into it. I wish there was more time to show the Titans' friendship, so the betrayal of Raven siding with her father could be more devastating. I wish they'd paid more attention to Raven's pacifism earlier, so this issue would actually be jarring. I'm interested in Trilogy, but they haven't shown us enough of him to really get any feel for his personality and motivations other than a vague jealousy over Raven being Trigon's favorite. Hopefully more will be revealed in the future, but with the way this comic has been going so far I'm not too hopeful.

[gauloiseblue]

Blue Velvet

(König × Reader × Horangi)

War isn't easy to get through, and the importance of keeping the soldiers' morals is as crucial as their ratios. They need distractions as much as they need food, and the higher ups are forced to provide it to them. It should be a bare minimum, since they subjugated them to fight their war. But they're a bunch of pigs, of course they'd rather keep the money to themselves.

They did give them a show—twice a week, but it felt inadequate. They only call a shrieking woman, with equally loud music to entertain them.

It's appalling to him, and he scoffs at the thrumming beat from the tent, where the singer—if you can call her a singer—screams her tune. The soldiers would whistle at her, stretching their hands to touch her, and she'd playfully evade them. It feels animalistic, vulgar, and he scoffs everytime the music starts. He'd walk to the opposite side, while the soldiers flock to the tent.

He sometimes found the Russian agent by the woods, and they'd sit in silence while the rowdy show filled in in the background. Though he prefers to be left alone, it's a better option than the crowded tent.

They talk when it's necessary, but most of the time they keep their thoughts to themselves. Nikto would stare at the woods, or anywhere else, really. It doesn't matter, since his mind isn't here.

He thought it'd stay that way, until Horangi told him to come.

"It's not the loud American slag," He explained to him, "Trust me, you'll like her."

He was vexed when he dragged him along, but it quickly changed once they got into their seats.

It's not as crowded as usual, and he can hear the soldiers murmur behind him. Some of them have a curious tone, but some of them are derisive. He didn't understand the sentiment, until the lights are dimmed.

And there you stand. On the stage, with the floodlight shines on you.

You were cold, aloof. And there's something delicate in the way you stood. Though it's only a brief moment, before the music plays softly.

As if lured by the tune, you step into the light and sing.

She wore blue velvet

Bluer than velvet was the night

Softer than satin was the light

From the stars

The murmurs begin to cease, as you sing the gentle ode.

She wore blue velvet

Bluer than velvet were her eyes

Warmer than May, her tender sighs

Love was ours

He holds his breath, as the flutter of your voice reaches his ear.

Ours, a love I held tightly

Feeling the rapture grow

Like a flame burning brightly

But when she left gone was the glow of

His friend glances at him, and a smirk spreads on his lips. He sees it from the corner of his eye, but he couldn't care less.

Blue velvet

But in my heart there'll always be

Precious and warm a memory through the years

And I still can see blue velvet through my tears

"Told you you'd like her."

He stares at his friend, before he states a warning.

"Don't act like you know me." He hissed.

Horangi lifts his hands lazily, as he returns to watch the stage.

She wore blue velvet

But in my heart there'll always be

Precious and warm a memory through the years

And I still can see blue velvet through my tears

"You know," He started, while his eyes stayed on your figure, "I wouldn't watch her if she's not pretty, but you gotta admit that she's more than just a pretty face." He took a glance at him, "She makes you feel… things, doesn't she?"

"What do you want?"

His voice is enough to convey the message, but his friend doesn't flinch away. He pushes through instead.

"Help me capture the bird, and I'll give you half of it."

The chair screeches when he stands as he glares at him, before he marches out of the room.

His friend's eyes burn holes into his back, and he grits his teeth at the prying gaze. He hates it, he hates that he's seen through him.

[jarenka]

I've unwisely started a time travel AU fic. Here is the beginning, I just wanted to test DeepL on it, tbh.

"You need to rest and relax," Obi-Wan told Anakin and handed him the tickets to Traavit, a small planet only two hours away from Coruscant.

"I have classes."

"Give the students a few days off, they'll be happy".

"I'll give them assignments for those days."

"I wouldn't recommend it; you'll have to grade them later."

Obi-Wan laughed and put a hand on Anakin's shoulder.

"When I was in your place, Quinlan made sure I took a break from my teaching duty and spent time somewhere outdoors. Now it's my turn."

It happened last night.

After that Anakin had stopped by Master Windu's office, told him he was going away for a few days with Obi-Wan ("It's about time," Master Windu had replied), informed his students that there would be no classes for the next three days, and said he would be grading homework more strictly than usual because they had three whole days to finish it. The kids groaned quietly.

Then he started getting ready for a trip, not knowing what to take with him. He couldn't remember the last time he had been on vacation. Darth Vader wasn't vacationing, he was retreating to his residence on Mustafar to heal and think about how much he hated everyone in the world and especially himself. Anakin Skywalker vacationed with Padme several times on Naboo. He'd barely been able to snatch a few days between missions. They'd gone to the Naberrie's country house, cooked together, lay in bed for half a day, swam in the lake, had picnics on the shore. Anakin had no need to worry about anything, because Padme already took care about all their business.

Anakin put some spare underwear, a clean shirt, a communicator, and a datapad in his bag. He was planning to do at least the first draft of engineering course for senior padawans.

"Don't bring any work with you on vacation," came a message from Obi-Wan.

"How do you know?!"

"Because I know you very well, Anakin."

Anakin couldn't help but smile, but this smile immediately disappeared when he remembered another man who knew him very well. Well enough to play on all of his weaknesses and then hold him tightly in his grip.

"Okay, I'm not taking my work with me", typed Anakin.

He didn't want to think about Palpatine ever again. The old bastard was dead. In this universe, his plans would never become a reality.

Anakin still sometimes felt like he should have died with Palpatine again.

And then he would go to class with his students, or on a walk, or to the hangar, or to the theater with master Windu and Aayla Secura. Like a normal person.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

Can I request something cheesy for Bucky x reader? Reader is staying in his room for the night because he's having nightmares. "I'm falling in love with you Bucky." "Don't play with me doll" "Who said I was playing?" And they kiss half asleep. Maybe in the morning Steve is smiling like a jackass because he knew they'd get together.

this is so cute i cry. waaaaa

CAN I KISS YOU?- J.B BARNES

Pairing: Best Friend! Bucky x Fem! Reader (College AU)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none really other then some petnames, and mentions of smoking weed. lots of fluff but hints of sexual tension mkay mkayy

Ring! Ring!

Your phone sounded from under the blankets, the shrill noise waking you from your grogginess. You moaned, hand smacking the covers as you were blinded, face smushed in the pillow from when you were crying.

Your cheeks were sticky, eyes swollen as you had cried yourself into a state of sleepiness, just on the brink of unconsciousness before your phone had gone off.

You finally had found it, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room your roommate had left on before she left, when she had snuck into your room to steal the lipgloss you had begged her not to.

“Hello?” you croaked out, voice laced with sleep as your rubbed your tired eyes.

“Kitty cat? Are you okay? I’ve tried calling you for a while now.” Your best friend Bucky asked, concern evident as you sat up fully. “Yeah, yeah I’m so sorry I was asleep. Is everything okay?”

“Just missed you. Can't sleep.” he sighed, and you could tell he was having his nightmares again. They happened nearly every night, and you did everything in your power to help him.

Weekly sleepovers were the routine for the pair of you, and honestly- nothing sounded better than being in his arms right now.

“You want me to come over Bucko?” you cooed gently, shuffling out of bed, watching as his oversized sweater slouched down past your knees.

“You know I do. But isn't Julia with you?” he asked, knowing that when your roommate was over she tended to want to do things with you, like take you out. You much rather stay in the comfort of your dorm, or his and Steves than go out and drink until your legs no longer functioned.

“No um- she left. Went to a party…again.” you huffed, opening your nightside table drawer to garb two bags of chamomile tea for when you went over. “You didn't want to go?”

“I never want to go. My idea of a good time is being with you or smoking weed in my room. Or those two things, together.’ He laughed at your truthful answer, knowing deep down you were right.

You hated big groups and gatherings, trying to avoid them the best you could. Sometimes, you'd go- just to make Julia happy. Tonight though, you couldn't. You didn’t have the energy, and you were tired of feeling used.

“I’ll be over in five.” you smiled, feeling slightly better already that you'd be seeing him soon. The man who always made you feel better when you were down, who looked after you as you did with him.

The man you were in love with.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Knock knockity knock knock!” you sang out softly, twisting the knob open to Bucky and Steve's door, poking your head in. You shuffled inside, tote bag filled with goodies brushing against the doorframe as you surveyed the little common room.

Steve waved at you from the little kitchenette, slipping his headphones off. “There she is!” he smiled, watching as you tossed your bag up on the counter beside him.

“Back again for more.” you teased, grabbing the tea packets, Steve switching the flicker on the kettle as he had done so many times before. “Did you bring more goodies this time?” he asked, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you with amusement as you struggled to grab the cups at the top shelf.

“I brought my weighted neck thingy I thought would help him this time. The tea- of course, and some late-night snacks.”

“Anything I can snag?” he asked, riffling through your bag before he stopped on a bag of cheese crackers. He tilted his head in an asking manner, and you nodded, watching him pocket the bag.

“God bless your soul Y/N.” he sighed, kissing the top of your head before he made his way over to his bedroom. “Goodnight stinker.” you whispered, making him laugh as he shut the door behind him.

You listened to the kettle whistle, the steam emerging from the top as you poured the hot water into the mugs. You hummed a little tune to yourself as you hiked your bag up your shoulder, balancing the drinks in hand as you walked slowly on the old hardwood, so it wouldn't creak in the night.

“Bucko?” you called out, seeing the door hand twist, his large figure appearing from the doorway. “Hi pretty kitty.” he smiled, dimples appearing as he opened the door, shooing you in quietly.

“I come bearing gifts.” you smiled, holding up the mugs before setting them down on his dresser. You took in his room, one you had been in many times before but couldn't get enough of.

You had helped him decorate it when the two of you moved into residence, transforming the dark and shabby shell of a room into something of a comfort. Posters dotted the walls, framed photos, candles and stacks of books, and his sketches surrounded the area, making you smile.

“You know you don't have to bring stuff every time you come over. Your company is plenty.” he shook his head with a smile, watching as you unloaded the snacks and comforts from your bag.

“You're telling me you don’t want… Mini Eggs?” you asked teasingly, shaking the bag in front of his face before he snatched it from you.

“Well duh. But doesn't the chocolate kinda cancel out the tea?” he asked, popping the bag open as he tossed a little blue egg in his mouth. “I don’t really care 'cause they taste good.” you shrugged in response, taking a sip of the piping hot tea, humming in delight as it warmed your insides.

“Very true.” he agreed, the old bed creaking as he plopped back onto it, resting his head on one of the many pillows, looking up at the fairy lights.

“Oh! I almost forgot-” You rummaged through your bag, pulling out the weighted shoulder pads. “I know you like your weighted blanket and you said your shoulders had been acting up so I brought this.” you smiled, skipping over to him as you sat beside him in bed, sliding it on him.

“Oh thank you kit. You're such an angel to me.” he blushed, kissing your hand gently. “Of course silly. Anything for you.” you said, snuggling into bed, not noticing the blush that deepened across his cheeks at your words.

“Hey kitty?”

“Yea?” You looked up at him, head resting on his shoulder as he held you closer. “Were you crying earlier? Your eyes are swollen.”

You looked down, not wanting to meet his gaze anymore. He had you figured out. He always did.

Damn him and his superhuman ability to read you like an open book.

“Maybe.”

“Hey, hey we don't have to talk about it. It doesn't matter why it matters that you did. And I’m really sorry for that kit.” he tilted your head up with his thumb, brushing your cheek.

“I’m here, okay? Always.” You sniffled, feeling the tears starting to brew again. ‘Thank you Bucky. Really.”

“Besides, you're too pretty to cry anyways.” he teased, making you laugh as he wrapped a soft, fuzzy blanket around your frame. “And you're too pretty to have sleeping problems.” you snorted, patting his bicep gently.

“Pfft. Yeah, I guess so eh?” he sighed, an arm wrapped around you as his hand stroked your back in a repeating, soothing motion. “It's okay. We can just eat snacks and cuddle away our problems.”

“Cause our problems fuckin suck.” he agreed, watching as you clung to his sleep shirt- an old band tee he had thrifted with you months ago.

“They really do. But we have each other.” you acknowledged, watching the clock's hands tick by on the wall. There was a kiss placed to your head and you smiled as he breathed in your lavender shampoo. “That we do doll. That we do.” he murmured, sleep laced in his voice as you closed your eyes.

You were groggy, muscles relaxing under his touch as you breathed in his comforting smell. You listened to his breaths, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he fell deeper into relaxation.

It was then you decided to take the leap you had been wanting to take for years now. When the two of you were safe, and no one could harm you. Not even your own ego if it was wounded- you were too sleepy to care.

“ Hey Buck? I think I’m falling in love with you. Fallen- I mean.” You felt the bed shift as he peered down at you, shock written clear as day across his face.

Shock and well… Was that a hint of giddiness in his eyes?

"Don't play with me doll" he laughed half heartedly, as if this was a joke to you. “Who said I was playing? I’m serious.” you said sleepy, nails digging into his shirt as you clung to him tighter.

You were scared to let go, to leave his eyes. You were swallowed in their depth as he took you in, a blush back on his cheeks.

“ Serious?”

“Serious.”

He hummed to himself, as if he were thinking it though. “Okay.” was all he replied, a sly smirk on his face as he nuzzled back into his pillow with a yawn.

“Okay? That's all I get is an okay?”

“Yup.” he popped the p, his favorite thing in the whole wide world was to get under your skin and tease you. You grumbled incoherently, tugging the blanket over your shoulders.

It was several moments before you heard his voice again, and you perked up immediately. “Kit?”

“Yeah?” You waited, watching as he chewed on his lip.

“Can I kiss you? Ya know… like what all best friends do?”

You were stunned.

Yes. Yes yes, this is all I have ever wanted for years please Bucky, please kiss me with those beautiful, soft pink lips of yours, so your stumble scratches my skin slightly please.

Instead, you were quiet, jaw dropped to the floor. You couldn't speak, so you did the only logical thing you could think of. A hand snaked out to capture his jaw, thumb brushing his chin as you leaned in, lips attaching to his.

He tasted of mint and a sweetness that drove you wild, made your head spin as you heard his breath hitch. It was sweet and tender, yet lazy as whispers of sleep was exchanged between the two of you.

His teeth nibbled on your lower lip, tugging on it as you broke apart, as if Bucky wasn't ready to let you go quite yet. His eyes met your own with a look of hunger as he sucked, leaving your lip slightly swollen.

“So that happened.” you breathed, unable to leave his trance, watching that boyish grin you loved so much appear on his face. “That happened. Are you happy that it happened?” he asked as you snuggled back into his chest.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

And that was that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The smell of bacon and fresh eggs on the stove woke you from sleep, the comforting scent reminding you of Saturday mornings at your mother's house.

You sighed happily, knowing today was going to be a good day. You had no classes today, and you knew Bucky was free until his 8pm class.

The bed when empty when you stretched, yet the warmth of Bucky's body heat still remained on the sheets. Water spraying from the showerhead trickled from the bathroom, a yawn escaping you as you glanced at the clock on his bedside table.

8:48.

You were proud of yourself for not sleeping in until the late afternoon, knowing you'd be able to snag Steve's breakfast when it was still fresh.

You slid out from under the blankets, snagging a pair of fluffy socks from Bucky's drawer. Hobbling over, you balanced as you slid theme on, Steve's eyes watching you as you shuffled out the door.

“What?” you asked, watching as he just smiled, moving the egg around with his spatula as he whistled a tune.

“Oh nothin.”

“Nothin?” you questioned, confused about why he was acting as if he were a first grader with a secret he refused to tell you at recess.

“You just look… glowy. That's all.”

“Ah yes that smooth, silky pregnancy glow.” you teased, sliding up on the barstool as Steve tossed you a fresh blueberry from the basket beside him.

You caught it in your mouth, humming in delight as the sweet juices exploded in your mouth, sparking up your taste buds. It was then your stomach rumbled, anxious to have some food put in it.

“You know what I mean. So.. who made the first move?” he smiled, giddy as he turned to face you, letting the bacon simmer. “Who said there was a first move?”

“Uh, the look in your eyes. And the fact you literally cannot stop smiling, and it's a semi- decent time for you to be up. smiling.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing damn well he was right. It was true- you couldn't stop smiling. A feeling of happiness seemed to bloom in your chest at the actions that were portrayed last night, an afterthought that refused to leave.

“If you give me another berry- I’ll tell you. M’starving.”

“Kitty made the first move. Begged me to kiss her.” Bucky's voice called from the bathroom, the door now wide open as he stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist.

You forced your jaw to stay clamped shut, though all it wanted to do was fall to the ground as he made his way to you, water droplets still clung to his shoulders. It was nothing you hadn't seen before, Bucky's 6’4, toned body something you had pictured many times.

But now, it was different. How- you didn't know, but it was somehow.

“I did not! You asked me!” you exclaimed, shock written on your face as Bucky opened the fridge, stray water continuing to drip on the hardwood.

“She was all over me dude. I have never seen a girl so head over heels.” he smirked, making Steve laugh. Steve knew damn well Bucky was talking about himself, as Steve had told you many times Bucky had a thing for you.

You were just too scared to act on anything… until last night.

“He asked me. Swear on my life.”

“Yeah, yea yea you kissed. I told you so.” Steve grinned, Bucky’s eyes meeting yours, noticing as you (tried to) indirectly check him out for the millionth time. “You told no one so.”

“Did so.”

“Did not.” you and Bucky bickered back together, Steve's eyes rolling in response.

“If you keep fighting me I’m eating all this food myself.” Steve replied, making you laugh.

“Touche man. Tou fuckin che.”

[lorata]

I reread your fic where Misha and Devon mess with Claudius with the whole respect your victor sibling thing, and I ended up on a runaway thought train over what jokes they'd play on Other victors. Somehow this led to the idea of them having Alec on about it being a village thing that you wear your mentor's clothes as a sign of respect! It's a tradition! They take time to point out that Devon Is wearing Brutus' sweater at the time.

Of course, this is in the injured Creed au and Callista's outfits are. Those.

oh don't worry i had an INSTANT response to this

-------

“Bonding,” Alec says, instead of the word that immediately comes to mind, which is: Bullshit.

Artemisia and Devon aren’t bad liars, is the thing. Both of them won their Games through manipulation as much as martial prowess, and they’ve turned their skills up to full power for this little prank. They’re holding back the glee, they’re not overselling or going overboard with the sincerity, the delivery really is impeccable.

And, of course, as any trainer would tell you, all good lies contain a hint of truth. Alec has seen half the Village traipsing around in shirts too large for them. Most likely Victors do borrow their mentors’ clothing all the time as unconscious comfort objects, creating the kind of bonding element that the two in front of him are attempting to convince him is part of a formalized ritual.

It’s not their fault Alec was essentially raised in a nonstop bullshit-detection bootcamp since the day Selene learned to speak in sentences.

He could tell them, of course, say Ha ha, nice try and send them off, but then again … what’s the fun in that? They did go to all this trouble. “So what’s the best way to show respect?” Alec says.

“You have to steal it,” Devon says. “That’s part of the ritual. Then when they see you in it they know you went to the trouble to get it.”

That’s probably not the lie, Alec decides once they’re gone. Brutus grouses about Devon nicking his sweaters all the time in a way that’s clearly performative, if he hasn’t asked him to knock it off after over a decade he can’t actually hate it. Village rituals are complex and arcane, and the newbies have to be initiated somehow but they’re definitely hazing him, so the trick is figuring out what part of this is real and what’s meant to be the joke.

Years of dealing with Selene have made Alec eminently practical. He could spend hours trying to puzzle it out, or —

He lets himself into Callista’s and sits on the rug, cross-legged so that the cats can pool into his lap. “Why are Artemisia and Devon trying to trick me into stealing your clothes?”

Callista’s sharp bark of laughter startles Bartleby, who leaps off her shoulders with a disgruntled backwards glance.

“Ohhh,” Alec says, staring at the mind-searing array of outfits in Callista’s walk-in. The organizational arrangement defies description but appears to fall along a vague theme continuum of ‘dancing animals’ to ‘hardcore BDSM’. “I get it now.”

“You cannot convince me these are comfortable,” Alec grumbles as Callista adjusts the last buckle.

“My clothing does not promise comfort, it promises impact,” Callista says, beatific. “Although it should never hurt, darling, let me know right away if anything pinches.”

Alec will cherish several moments in his life — Aunt Julia’s hands patching up his wounds, that night on the roof before Creed entered Residential, seeing his name on the Volunteer list, the clear ring of the victory trumpets — but the absolute dead hush of conversation like an entire plate of cutlery falling to the floor at his entrance to the monthly signing party might top the list, at least right now.

“Hello,” he calls out cheerfully. He saunters over and drops next to Devon and Artemisia, Claudius scrambling away from him as though he’s on fire. “Did I miss anything?”

Petra has a face like she swallowed something sour, her eyes darting back and away from him like she can’t stop staring even though she’d really rather not. “What the fuck are you wearing. Did you lose a bet?”

Alec only smiles wider. “A bet? No. I’m bonding with my mentor just like everyone else. A normal part of Village life. Isn’t that right, mentor?”

Callista, settling down like a gentle cloud next to a delicately and professionally aggrieved Adessa, says, “But of course. I, for one, have never felt closer.”

“You knew,” Artemisia manages finally, accusing.

“Did I?” Alec reaches out and snags a chocolate from the box in front of her. “Did you want me to do something else?”

(Claudius, in a frantic whisper: “What the fuck is happening?”

Brutus: “Don’t encourage them.”)

Artemisia narrows her eyes, but finally points a finger at his face. “You know what? Well played, rookie. But I’ll get you.”

He gives her a Selene smile, sharp with challenge. “Go ahead and try.”

[cl0udy-wolf]

collide invisible lips, like a shadow on the wall

aka: zuko lets himself get distracted after losing the avatar.

(featuring lee/oc)

trigger warnings: n/a, just fluff :)

Zuko was livid.

Not only had he lost the Avatar, after countless manhunts, after an endless cycle of losing and regaining hope, after three years of waiting...

But he had also lost his most prized possession- his notebook containing all his information about the past Avatars. All his deepest thoughts.

Everything.

After about a half hour of searching for it, his room was an absolute mess. Everything was out of place and thrown across the floor. He had a hard time navigating, so he just kicked or tossed things aside. Not like the mess was helping him at all.

In his frustration, he didn't hear the person who was at the door until around the third time they knocked. He heard the door open and whipped his head around.

"What?!"

His eyes widened when he realized it was Lee. He silently cursed at himself. He hated yelling at his friend, being rough like that at him. It was unintentional, but...

Lee took a breath, carefully stepping over some scrolls thrown across the floor. "I came to check on you. I was worried."

His gaze traveled across the room. Zuko couldn't read his expression, which annoyed him. He liked having an idea of what was coming next. But Lee was good at keeping his face like a mask, for the most part.

"Zuko," Lee said, "Talk to me."

Zuko averted his gaze with a sour expression. He crossed his arms, feeling Lee's scrutiny. Those gentle eyes fixed on him. 

It wasn't long before he caved.

"We lost the Avatar, for one. And now, my notebook is gone. Can you believe this? He ran! And took something of mine with him. I spent years-" He groaned and covered his face with in hands in annoyance. He turned and walked in the direction of the window just to get away.

But Lee followed. He noticed Zuko running his thumb over his scar absent-mindedly as the frustration with himself set in, and Lee frowned. His heart ached whenever he saw him do that. 

He took Zuko's hand and eased it away from his face. "Stop," he murmured, "Just squeeze my hand instead."

And indeed, Zuko was crushing his hand.

"I'll lend you one of my empty books to use. As for the Avatar...I'm sure we can find some sort of lead. It's not...it's not impossible."

"It feels like it," Zuko grumbled.

"Zuko," Lee said, calmly, "Look at me, please."

He brought his hand to Zuko's cheek and gently turned his head so they'd make eye contact. Deep in Zuko's eyes, Lee could see his pain. It was harder for Zuko to hide it around him. It was harder for Zuko to hide anything around him.

He should've expected it. Bonding over running away to random secluded spots in the Fire Nation brought them closer than anyone else Zuko knew that was his age. 

"Take a breath with me," Lee said, bringing his voice down to almost a whisper. He knew Zuko found solace in that tone.

He demonstrated taking deep breaths, hoping Zuko would follow. 

But then his own breath faltered, and he sighed, anxiety creeping onto his face. Zuko was quick to act upon seeing it.

"Hey, you okay?" 

"I...I'm fine. You know me..."

"Just one of those days? Take your own advice," Zuko said lightheardedly. It made Lee crack a soft smile.

"I'm worried about you. When don't you worry me..."

"Sorry." Zuko gave a sheepish half-smile.

"It's okay." Lee squeezed his hand, just now realizing they were still holding hands. He peered down to look at them when he noticed something. He rose their hands to get a better look at Zuko's. 

"Zuko!"

"Huh?"

"You hurt yourself." Lee ran his thumb over the small cut on Zuko's hand. It definitely wasn't much, but Lee couldn't help but be worried about it anyway. It wasn't just the cut, but the fact that Zuko was so angry and he hadn't noticed made him concerned- has this happened before? Did Zuko take care of it by himself? Why didn't he say anything? Was he okay? Would he be okay? What if something happened and Zuko didn't tell him and then-

Zuko's voice tore Lee from his spiraling thoughts.

"Lee, I'm fine. It's not that bad. I probably just cut myself on accident with some of the pottery."

"I know, but-"

The moment they made eye contact, it felt like a bolt of lightning shot through both of their hearts. Lee's breath suddenly caught in his throat. Zuko's eyes widened as he tried to process this new and very sudden feeling.

He felt...warm. Fuzzy. His breathing grew a bit heavy as he tried to focus. But how was he supposed to focus when Lee was looking at him with his big, bright amber eyes, so close that he could see the little specks of green in his eyes, looking at him with not scorn or disgust but tenderness and care.

Then there was the way Lee held his hand close to his chest, close to his heart. Maybe he was overthinking, but now his own thoughts were spiraling and he couldn't help it. 

It took him back to the Fire Nation. Before all of this. Back to when Lee and Zuko sat under the stars, hidden away somewhere where their families couldn't find them. Sharing stolen glances, soft touches, sweet words- promises that Lee would come back safe and sound from war. So many things that neither of them knew the meaning of.

It took him back to that confusing feeling that stirred in his heart- the one he tried to forget but he couldn't because he couldn't just throw away the way this boy made him feel- this boy who was his best friend- the boy who he wrote countless letters to and waited for in the center of Capital City to see if he had come back home- come back to him alive.

The boy that gave him butterflies, or something close to it- he didn't know exactly what was going on, he just knew he wanted so desperately to be close to him but he was terrified at the same time because what if something happened and Lee hated him for it? What if he hurt him? 

They had already been through enough.

It scared him.

And then he gazed deeper into Lee's eyes and it all went away.

His mind went blank. It was quiet.

Lee whispered, "Zuko? What's wrong?"

Zuko stammered. "No- nothing's wrong, I just..."

And then, without realizing it, Lee leaned in. And Zuko pulled him in closer.

Not even a second later, before their lips could even meet, Zuko broke away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Lee grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him. 

Zuko's arms went around Lee's waist. Lee brought him closer, a hand behind his head.

Zuko was completely lost in how soft Lee's lips were. He was entranced by the way, every time they broke away, he went in for another kiss, as gentle and as tender as the first one, as if Lee was afraid to hurt him. 

And he was overwhelmed by the barely restrained intensity of Lee's embrace, making him feel every last bit of desperation that Lee carried- the desperation they shared, for years, and it finally felt like it was being resolved.

The stress of their lives washed away like waves crashing on the shore. There was only the feeling of Lee in Zuko's arms and the faint scent of his cologne. 

All the worries, the pain- their search for the Avatar- was forgotten about.

Zuko pulled away and sighed in contentment. He looked down at Lee, whose cheeks were as red as a rose. He had a cute, shy smile on his face, one he couldn't help.

A beat passed before either of them spoke. Zuko rested his forehead against Lee's and neither of them opened their eyes, instead taking each other in during the short moment of silence.

"I love you," Lee breathed.

Zuko smiled. "I love you, too." His hand gently caressed Lee's cheek, the other resting on his waist.

"I've loved you since before we left the Fire Nation. Every time I was at war, I thought about coming home to you." Lee felt tears pricking his eyes. It was hard recalling the fear that plagued him when he was deployed, not knowing what the days would hold for him, not knowing if it would be his last. But every time he lost hope, he thought about who he was fighting for.

"I thought about hugging you. I thought about the way you'd look at me and smile and run to take me into your arms as soon as you saw me marching back to Capital City. I thought about you." 

Lee let the words hang in the air. They just sort of tumbled out of his mouth without him meaning to ramble. Zuko, on the other hand, was silent, until Lee heard his voice in a soft murmur.

"I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here."

"We don't have to think about that anymore. You're okay. I'm okay. We're both okay."

A soft chuckle escaped him, maybe of disbelief, maybe of excitement. "We're in love."

Zuko's smile returned to his face. "We're in love," he repeated, awe-struck. "And it's staying this way."

"Whatever happens, I'm by your side. Just don't go anywhere I can't follow."

"That goes for you, too."

"I'm staying. So you can hold me like you are right now."

"I love you." Zuko pressed his lips to Lee's, lingering as he began to draw back. 

"I love you, too," Lee said as he brought Zuko in for yet another kiss, this one deeper than any of their first. 

[kestalsblog]

Stan/Kyle/Cartman Drabble 🗻🌲

I needed a break, so I gave myself a reward of writing some today. I was struck with this scene a little while ago. I'd been wanting to try Style for a while, but I just love my guy Cartman too much to leave him out 🙈🥰 So, enjoy some . . . Styleman?? LOL. 🏕️

Contains suggestive content and a bit of mature language. Best for 18+. Nothing graphic. I don't post anything explicit on Tumblr.

Normally Stan loved camping with his friends. The fresh mountain air, the indigo-greens of the night sky, the cricket song. The way he could look at the wild, open landscape and not feel insignificant because out here, everyone was insignificant.

Hell, coming out this far in the forest pines had been his idea, but if past-him could have looked into the future's crystal ball, he sure wouldn't be freezing his ass off in a lonely sleeping bag just so he could listen to Cartman and Kyle get it off together in the tent beside his. Feeling his teeth clash together, sensitive from the cold, he cursed Kenny for turning down the invitation. At least then he wouldn't be so hopelessly alone.

Cartman and Kyle's silhouettes flickered across his own tent wall like two candle flames. Sometimes they intertwined; other times, they shivered apart. Stan could hear their muffled whispers and giggles, punctuated by Kyle's occasional petulant shh!

Looking back, Stan wasn't sure when the nature of their relationship had changed - if it had ever changed at all, for that matter. Maybe it had been like this as long as they'd known each other, and he'd just missed the signs.

Earlier in the evening, Kyle and Cartman been bickering in their usual fashion over the snacks Cartman had brought, how well Kyle had pitched the tent (which had started a slew of sexual innuendos from Cartman that had Kyle ready to commit murder), and Stan had been convinced things might be like the old days again.

At least like before college, back when things felt normal. But no, those days were gone, and Stan didn't know why, but he felt his eyes burn when he thought about how those years were never, ever returning. Now Cartman and Kyle couldn't fight without the heated exchange ending in an intense make-out session or a half-concealed fuck in Kenny's closet at a house party.

He hated himself for wishing they'd go back to hating each other. At least then he wouldn't feel left out.

On the bright side, the tears were keeping Stan somewhat warm. Octobers in South Park could unleash unforgiving weather. Normally he didn't mind sitting in the cold until he went numb - he even relished it - but now it was only painful.

Kyle let out an exceptionally loud yelp, followed by Cartman's ruthless snickering. Stan let his eyes drift back to the outlines of their bodies displayed across the fabric tent wall. At some point, their shape had become one.

Stan turned on his side so he couldn't see them anymore. A few tears ran from his eyelashes into his lip, and he tasted salt mixed with the marshmallows from earlier. Maybe he shouldn't have invited both of them. Kyle probably would have come alone, maybe even Cartman. He gripped himself tighter, huddling under the sleeping bag's cover. None of it made sense, Cartman and Kyle . . . Kyle and Cartman . . .

He was Kyle's best friend, the one who had always been kind to him. For fuck's sake, he'd even been there for Cartman growing up too. What had they done for each other except make both their lives miserable?

But now . . . now he listened to a small, slightly stifled moan, probably from Kyle, and he wished he'd never suggested coming camping altogether, not if the only things to keep him warm were his cheap sleeping bag, his tears, and his jealousy. Maybe the two of them were better off being here without him. He should just pack his stuff and go home.

"Shh, shh, Stan can hear us," Cartman's voice suddenly rang clearly, interrupting some scampering night creature nearby their tents.

"It's not like he doesn't know," followed Kyle, but then his voice became gentler when he called out, "Stan?"

Was it better to pretend to be asleep? Fear grazed Stan's cheek in the form of a frigid breeze that trespassed the tent's opening. Both Cartman and Kyle were suddenly quiet, and the change in atmosphere only lowered Stan's feelings. If he weren't here, they could be having unrestrained fun together. He really should just go home.

Fear escalated to terror when an obscenely loud sniffle escaped his nostril.

"Stan?" gasped Kyle's voice, louder now.

Stan turned with a jolt to see Cartman and Kyle break apart from one another and start emerging from their tent to come to his. Sure enough, within seconds, Kyle's face popped through the tent's slot. His wild hair was spiraling in untamed curls around his head, and his cheeks were rosy pink. "Are you crying?" Kyle's eyes widened with concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, what gives, dude?" Cartman's face poked in next, directly under Kyle's. If Stan weren't heavy with his own sorrows, he might have found the image comical. "Lonely in here, Stan?" he joked, but the quip went straight through Stan's heart.

I'm going to cry. I'm going to cry. Stan felt his nostrils quivering, his eyebrows. Could he blame the cold, and would they believe him if he did?

"Stan, that's not true, is it Are you lonely?" asked Kyle, nudging his way into the tent. He sat next to Stan's lantern, only a few inches away because there wasn't much room. "I mean, it'll be a tight fit, but we can all hang out. I thought you liked your space . . ."

"Or you could join us." Cartman's jack-o-lantern smirk cracked across his face.

"Isn't that what I literally just suggested?" snapped Kyle, shooting him a side eye as if his entire neck wasn't covered with his love bites.

"No, you were just saying we could all have a sleepover," fake-yawned Cartman. "I'm suggesting, if the poor guy is lonely, that he join us." There was no mistaking the sly undertone. Stan felt unforeseen heat overtake his face when Cartman directed a flirtatious wink in his direction.

"W-What are you saying?" Stan hated the sound of his voice. He hated how harshly he was now gripping the cover of his sleeping bag, and how some not-so-small, shameful piece of himself was yearning, straining to be included, to be . . . What am I thinking? His heart beat violent rhythms through his ears. Ugly sound. No wonder no one wanted him; he was embarrassing.

"Oh my God, Stan, I'm sorry about him," Kyle started, flustered now himself. "He's just being, well, Cartman."

"Oh, come on." Cartman rolled his eyes, which had assumed an oddly comforting caramel coloration in the lantern light. "Don't tell me you've never thought about Stan that way. We both have."

"What?" Stan heard his voice lift an octave, followed by Cartman's devious laughter and Kyle's stuttering.

"I-I mean, it's just . . ." Kyle's voice went nowhere.

"Come on, just picture it." Cartman lifted his hands as if he were painting the image in the air for them to see. "These romantic ass woods and mountains and nature and shit. The three of us doing it like animals? Shit, it's a wet dream, if you ask me." His tongue rolled over his lips with sinister slowness, and Stan would never admit to the way his heart leapt over a few beats at the sight. Surely this was some kind of terrible prank; neither of them had expressed wanting to be with him in the past, even if many of his own nights had been spent in painful pining to join them.

He knew they weren't particularly monogamous. He wasn't even sure if they saw themselves as a real couple, and he'd always been a little heartbroken trying to piece together what was so unappealing about him that he'd never turned their heads that way. Hadn't he shown that he cared for them both? Wasn't he a nice enough person? It had to be the inherent ugliness he knew lurked under his skin, the repulsive something-or-other about him that made him unlovable, untouchable. He was embarrassing. He was -

"Don't mock me like this," he tried to say without crying, but Kyle must have detected the tear in his voice because he suddenly crawled forward and took his hand. Kyle had held his hand before. Right now, it felt different. His fingers gripped Stan's, squeezing.

"Stan, I'd never do that. You know how much you mean to me." His eyes were so close to Stan's, right there, a dark shade of green that reminded Stan of the trees and grass he loved so dearly. Lily pads. His eyes were like lily pads in dark water. He'd never seen such eyes on anyone else. "I know Eric has a fucking horrible way of suggesting it, but . . . if you're lonely in here, I mean, and if you want to . . ." His face blossomed with red. "I can't say I haven't . . . ever thought about it, is all. The three of us." He cleared his throat. "You're my best friend. You're, uh . . ."

"You've thought about it?" Stan wasn't sure how much more new information he could take. If his voice went any higher, he was pretty sure he'd go through some kind of reverse puberty. His ears rang.

"Oh, be serious, Stan. You can't deny you're hot as fuck. A real dreamboat with that classic look of yours. Plus, you have that good- boy sweet vibe about you," Cartman added, causing Stan to jump at the sudden closeness of his voice. He felt it tickle his earlobe. When the hell had he moved so quickly and silently to his other side? Encased between the two of them, Stan felt his heart racing and his previous tears searching for a place to go. "Prime for corruption, if you ask me." Cartman's voice sank a few levels; Stan felt his lips ghost down his ear to his neck, and he jumped closer to Kyle.

"It doesn't have to be like that," cried Kyle, exasperated, reaching a gloved hand to cup at Stan's cheek. The warmth of his hand radiated through the fabric. "Like I said before, you know how much I care about you. We only have to do this if you want to." His eyes simmered. "We can be slow."

Even Cartman, to his credit, paused by Stan's neck, clearly waiting for some form of permission to continue. Stan searched for the words to respond, his mind grasping nothing. All he could think about were the parties he had spent watching the two of them kiss while he sat twisted with sharp pains, the nights he had walked home alone, the loneliness like a smog he couldn't shake off his shoulders. How that smog followed him absolutely fucking everywhere.

Such were his thoughts when he whispered, his voice dispersing like fading fog on the syllable, "Yes."

Cartman surged in like a shark then, his parted lips and teeth clamping into the soft, open skin of Stan's neck. At the same moment, Kyle muttered, "Oh, Stan, I've been waiting for this," and then gently pressed their mouths together.

So much was happening - Stan felt his pulse quicken even further. His temperature elevated, and he couldn't believe he'd been cold ten minutes ago. The heat of Eric's mouth, scented faintly of chocolate, fastened to his skin while he tasted the bright spearmint flavor of Kyle's lips. Underneath the mint, he detected subtle cocoa. Realizing that flavor must have come from Cartman's candy bar earlier and yet he was tasting it through Kyle's mouth sent Stan's thoughts into madness.

Kyle's mouth was exceedingly gentle, his lips slowly but, with defined pressure, moving against his. Is this what Cartman felt all the time from him? Kyle was kissing him, his best friend. The person he'd spent his whole life beside. A person he loved. Kyle.

Stan felt a little dizzy trying to keep up with his shifting emotions when Cartman nipped at his neck. He gasped into Kyle's mouth.

"He's so innocent," teased Cartman. He licked a quick trail up the length of Stan's throat, making him shudder all over again. "So cute. This is gonna be fun." Stan wasn't even sure what to think of Cartman, how to explain the fierce arousal he felt when he'd watched Kyle and Cartman make out. There was a commanding aspect to his personality he couldn't quite fathom, some alluring fantasy of being overpowered associated with his expressive gestures.

"Don't go rushing this," ordered Kyle, the usual warning vexation returning to his tone when he pulled backward some. Stan, breathing hard, noticed a new shine to his eyes he'd never noticed before. He thought he'd known every side of Kyle once. "I want to take my time with this." He was speaking to Cartman, but his eyes were settled on Stan.

Stan was struck with the abrupt realization that he was not simply being looked at - he was being studied. As if Kyle were waiting for the right moment to devour him. These were the looks he'd been craving, this was the attention, and now that it was here, all here, and he was voiceless, helpless. He felt his shoulders tremble under their hands like the falling pine needles outside. His skin reddened beneath their vigilant eyes. He had no idea what to do, which moves to make.

He'd been so utterly convinced a moment like this would never come for him that it all felt like some cruel magic trick the forest was playing on him, almost as if he'd wished so hard for something, he was hallucinating it now.

"Don't worry," Cartman said, his voice more soothing than Stan had ever heard. He hadn't known he was even capable of comfort. Did he really know his two friends at all? "We'll take good care of you, sweetheart." And then somehow, Stan was kissing Cartman - the sweet taste of his tongue coating his mouth like velvet chocolate. Someone's hands were in his hair - Kyle's? - and before he knew it, his head was being shifted from one side to the other, both of them taking turns kissing him. Their mouths were both burning, blazing, even. They both tasted good. Chocolate mint. Stan felt his lips slacken. What to do, what to do?

At some point, he could no longer keep up with which mouth belonged to whom, which long fingers and strong palms were tugging at his coat collar and his hair. He registered through his swimming, unfocused-brain rush of desire the chorusing of insects somewhere beyond the tent.

Was this sweet, tingling taste the flavor of devotion?

If I ever continued this, the rest would have to go to Ao3. Too steamy for here 😳 I hope you enjoyed 🤭🥰🙈 🍫🍵

[the-priestess-of-dawn]

it's not love but i still want you: a toxic chrima playlist

Tracklist + thoughts under the cut

1. L.A. LOOKS - HEALTH

I want another life (Don't hold your breath) I want to try again (But you can't swim) But it's not love It's not love It's not love, but I still want you It's not love, it's not love It's not love, but I still want you (It's still us)

2. Suffer - Hurts

Touch me and make me feel your misery And play me like you play your twisted little symphony 'Cause I'm just addicted to you, I'm just addicted to you I'm just addicted to the way you get the worst of me

3. Fight for Me -AlicebanD

I'll make you cry for me and lie for me (I'll make you cry for me) And bleed for me and die for me (And die for me) But most I'll make you right for me I'm sure I'm right for you

4. Follow You - Bring Me The Horizon

Show me what I can't see when the spark in my eyes is gone You got me on my knees, I'm your one-man cult Cross my heart and hope to die Promise you I'll never leave your side

5. Hate That You Know Me - Bleachers

Sometimes I, I hate that you know me so well Some days I, I wish that I wasn't myself No luck! And I hate that you know me so well

6. My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys - Taylor Swift

My boy (My boy), only breaks his favorite toys, toys, oh I'm queen (I'm queen), of sand castles he destroys, oh, oh 'Cause I knew too much, there was danger in the heat of my touch He saw forever, so he smashed it up, oh, oh

7. Shadows - Red

There's a hate inside of me like some kind of master I tried to save you but I can't find the answer I'm holding onto you, I'll never let go I need you with me as I enter the shadows

8. Get Away - CHVRCHES

I'll be your guide so you can see The other side and I will never let you get away Never let you get away

And so they continued on eternally, partners never to be parted.

So yeah, I'm back with another mini playlist curated from my main one, this one focused on toxic chrima inspired by Fell Exalt Chrom and his Forging Bonds, but not staying 100% true to that canon because that Grima is able to send Chrom away to have a better time in Askr, and we're not having any of that nonsense in THIS playlist, oh no. The invisible ties that bind them have been dyed red in blood, and there is no escaping fate when they'd both choose ruin over breaking that bond.

The songs I used here aren't necessarily in a particular order in a narrative sense, though they are grouped in pairs corresponding to Grima's POV followed by Chrom's POV. I did take care to make sure that My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys was paired with Hate That You Know Me because of the "I knew too much" line—in my mind, this ties into Grima trying to harshly distance himself from the past he shared with Chrom, insisting that the Robin Chrom knew is dead and that Chrom will never be reunited with him, because he thinks that it would be less painful for Chrom to believe there is nothing human in him left than to be constantly looking for signs that his partner is still himself... even though the signs are all there and not too hard to pick up on for someone who knows Grima well.

I also deliberately ended the playlist with Get Away because it's a sort of... lighter note than the rest. It also pairs particularly well with Shadows just before it because "I'll be your guide so you can see" is a perfect response to "Caught in the darkness, I go blind/Can you help me find my way out?" Even though this is toxic chrima, there's still relief from their despair to be found in each other. This also plays nicely with Follow You from earlier in the playlist, "Crossing your heart and hoping to never let you get away" serving as a callback to "Cross your heart and hope to die/Promise me you'll never leave my side" and "Cross my heart and hope to die/Promise you I'll never leave your side." I really like the way that worked out. Grima, you are never getting away from your other half, and that is both a threat and a promise.

[t4tozier]

porter drunk dialing jace when jace is out on a long trip. maybe he + zara + tiberia + lucilla + the druid teacher + yolanda are taking a bunch of the senior full caster students on a big end-of-semester experiential learning field trip or smth. like in florida we went to the keys for a week to study marine biology so i feel like aguefort would do smth similar.

and porter is like “yeah whatever stardiamond go on your little trip have fun don’t get yourself killed” but like 3 days in he’s a complete mess bc he missed jace. not that he’s gonna admit that. so he’s drinking whiskey and watching trashy reality tv and he’s SAD and also zara is there and he sees how jace and zara look at each other. so he calls jace up like “heyyyyy starshine hows your trip going. are you and zara fucking.” and jace is like “porter how drunk are you right now? i’m working. this is a work trip” all annoyed but he also missed porter so it’s actually really nice to hear from him

eeeeveryone wants to talk about drunk dialing porter okay let's do it /pos

okay stream need you now by lady a while you read this bc that's porter's vibe. also my vibe because i've had three shots and it's not a quarter after one but i am a little drunk <3

also i'm typing on my computer so there's no autocorrect let's do it.

i'm picturing there's a time difference here they're in like the red waste or something so it's like 11 for porter but like 7 for jace. so they're just all having dinner or something and jace sees his crystal flash with porter's name and is like hm. he never calls. so he excuses himself and picks up and he hears porter drawling and he can picture the lazy grin on his face as he greets jace, the way he's probably spread out across his couch, maybe even palming at himself through his sweats--no, jace, focus.

"you an' zara fuckin', then?"

and jace snorts and rolls his eyes but he's smiling fondly as he replies, "how much have you had to drink?"

"nothin'! barely anythin'. like, half a bottle. 's fine. i'm fine. asked you a question, stardiamond."

jace sighs, because he's not getting out of this conversation unless he answers. "no, porter, we're not fucking. happy?" there's silence for a few moments, and then he hears the sound of fabric rustling, a soft grunt from the other line, and he swears low. "are you--" he lowers his voice so the others won't hear. "are you jacking off because i told you we're not fucking?"

"no. yeah. maybe." and porter straight up moans, and jace feels his dick twitch and swears again. "fuck, starshine, you're so fuckin' pretty, love how you look all fucked out on my cock."

"porter, we can't do this now. you're drunk, and i'm--" he looks back at the table, and the others are chatting amicably. they don't look like they'd miss him that much--"i have to work!"

"c'mon, baby," porter drawls, and jace hates how it his voice goes straight to his cock. "i know you wanna taste, fuck, love your pretty little mouth on me--" and that's it. jace teleports back to their cabin and furiously jacks off while porter moans in his ear and sends him dick pics that are kind of shitty and blurry but even though jace has only been gone for three days he's still aching for it and clearly, so is porter.

[karistiltskin]

what if i said "but I would die for you in secret" but imagine merlin and arthur.

peace lyric analysis as merthur:

"Our coming-of-age has come and gone

Suddenly the summer, it's clear

I never had the courage of my convictions

As long as danger is near

And it's just around the corner, darling

'Cause it lives in me

No, I could never give you peace"

OUR COMING-OF-AGE?? okay, listen. as we know, arthur's coming-of-age moment is linked to his coronation. He literally has an episode called "The Coming of Arthur" parts one and two (S03 E12-E13). it's arthur becoming king and merlin starting to finally feel like he's getting somewhere with their destiny because of arthur's crowning. this is our setting. we're now in the after.

"I never had the courage of my convictions as long as danger is near" SHUT UPPPP SHUT UPPPP like actually oh my god. as long as danger is near is so so sick and speaks so loud. merlin absolutely does have the courage of his convictions and just to clarify, collins dictionary [colin morgan ;) ] states it as the confidence to do what you believe is right, even though other people may not agree or approve. BUT when arthur is in danger he does not do the "right" thing. he listens to the giant lizard instead or gaius (still love him) and does anything, anything, to make sure arthur doesn't get harmed no matter what.

rip morgana and getting poisoned.

rip mordred's entire existence.

although arthur attracts danger, merlin attracts just as much. and merlin is magic. (ugh, I'm getting sad and the only reason i won't cry is cause i'm in the middle of a lecture. a nighttime lecture). merlin can never give arthur peace because he is everything arthur was conditioned to hate. arthur can never give merlin peace because he's a king with expectations from Camelot and neighboring kingdoms. aka they can never be peacefully together without the threat of danger from them both and towards their relationship.

"But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

If your cascade ocean wave blues comes

All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?"

merlin lights arthur fires. that's it. that's the tweet.

merlin is also arthur's closest friend and confidant. he definitely gets arthur to see other perspectives on a situation and makes sure he remains compassionate and fair. for example, that look arthur gave merlin in S05 E11 during kara's trial?? my god. or the episode where arthur killed that one king's son under the influence of his uncle, the sleaze.

THEY WOULD DIE FOR EACH OTHER IN SECRET. NO ARGUMENTS. they've proved episode after episode again that they would no questions asked. people who don't know them just go "he's just a servant" or "you would choose him over your kind?" (ouch) not knowing the depth of their relationship. but yes. yes they would. and they would not have a single regret. they would deny the hell out of it but the proof is in their actions.

but you got a friend in me yes ma'am they do.

and it would be enough. it would. do they need a reminder that they were both born in mind of each other? that it was written since the beginning of time? that both of them have their own personal demons that instead of running away they'd take care of each other instead? that they're the most important person for each other and nothing can split them apart because they've grown to trust each other so much that their souls have intertwined? two sides of the same coin? other half of my soul, as the poets say???

"Your integrity makes me seem small

You paint dreamscapes on the wall

I talk shit with my friends

It's like I'm wasting your honor"

from arthur's pov he knows merlin is better than him. the way he interacts with people, his morals and values, his humbleness, just everything really. he pretends to be mad and upset about it but there's such deep admiration in it that he's actually self-aware.

dreamscape (google) definition: a landscape or scene with the strangeness or mystery characteristic of dreams

arthur finds merlin so strange!! so strange and mysterious.

the walls: i read this one fanfic on ao3 called "The Tragedy of Godhood" by Lilmia_Casand (read it!! it's so good. short, but beautiful) and the summary states:

"Merlin had gotten better at controlling his magic over the years, but it still spilled over, as if he were the source instead of someone calling upon it. It seeped into the castle walls, into the stone floors..."

This was the first thing I thought of (this quote stuck with me, it got bookmarked) and i couldn't have said it better. here's a play by play: arthur lives in a castle. the castle has walls. a lot of walls. he sees these walls everyday. the walls are familiar. the walls stay. the walls are forever. he can't imagine the castle without his walls.

walls = life/the future

magic is part of merlin's mystery because he's essentially hiding HIMSELF.

(does this make sense? no, prob not but bear with me)

there's an air about merlin where when you think about him, you realize you actually don't know much about him. he's a mystery. you know his jokes, you know where he's gonna be at whatever time of day (not the tavern, contrary to what arthur thinks), you know his favourite food. you don't know about his parents, you don't know why he saved arthur at his first feast, you don't know why he stays around.

arthur reflects on this and realizes it one day when merlin starts to become unavoidable in his mind. then he thinks, 'i really know nothing about this boy.' over time, merlin stays by his side, always, and arthur is so dependent on him that he starts worrying if he'll ever leave and if not him, camelot (he has abandonment issues 100%).

also see: S01 E10

hence, "you paint dreamscapes on the wall" is arthur saying, "you're the biggest mystery i've ever met and you make me wonder what every day will be like with you. will you be here tomorrow? and the day after that? until I'm married and have children who will favour you over me? will you be here to see them? to see me? i can't see it through the haze. i can't see you through the haze."

moving on—fuck that was so much longer than it needed to be—arthur and merlin talk shit about each other ALL THE TIME it's hilarious. and they know the one "bad" thing they talk about doesn't define their entire character because they hold each other in such high regard but... well...

(they definitely have regrets after)

"And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences

Sit with you in the trenches

Give you my wild, give you a child

Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother

Is it enough?"

they both go all out for each other but with a focus on merlin, he goes ALL. OUT. it's war with him. nothing is half-assed. he fights, and fights, and never takes it less than seriously. but he also is there at arthurs lowest moments. when they're losing and when arthur is feeling too much or has too much on his shoulders. he's there. through it all.

merlin will give arthur anything he asks. he's already given him the purpose of his life and has hidden his magic until arthur's dying day because he thought that's what arthur needed and thought he would never accept him as he is so he gave it up.

but he's also given arthur the best thing he has. a friend. understanding. communication without words. souls recognizing souls, so much that the silence may be quiet but words are being exchanged through that same silence.

also, speechless eye conversations that range near the line of sexual tens—

then in the last line, merlin is saying: your people are my people. your burdens are my burdens.

"But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west

I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best

But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me"

this goes both ways!! the only difference is that arthur's is visible and merlin's is hidden. explanation: arthur no doubt has enemies, it's not a secret. being a king and a target from the magic community, that man is almost getting killed everyday. it is not a peaceful life. he knows that. but nonetheless, he has shown merlin his best before—merlin is literally the reason he reaches the best person he can be, like the growth omg—so he knows he can give it but he knows there's a lot of baggage (external and internal) that comes with being with him.

as for merlin, his enemies are a secret. and they're dangerous. arthur faces some of those same enemies but from the product of what they've created, not them personally. no, merlin goes head-to-head with the people who curse/try to kill arthur. and he gives arthur a version of his best (he still has to keep many many secrets) but even if it's limited it's still genuine. although his secrets, his late nights, and his pure exhaustion are a part of him as well. and you can't have sunshine without rain.

okay ,WOW, i'm wrung out. it feels incomplete so i might add additional things later on but for now, enjoy.

once again, thank you if you read this, thank you bbc merlin, and thank you taylor swift.

(notice how i didn't use the word love once)

[eiressofinspirationwrites]

Of Heaven and Hell - Traitorous Heart

Pairing: Crowley x Female OC/Reader x Aziraphale

Word Count: 1381

Warning: Spoilers ahead for Good Omens Season 2 Episode 6.

Description: Aziraphale makes a decision that will change the lives of the ones he loves most.

Note: This fic is written from the second person POV but features a female Half-Demon/Half-Angel OC of mine from this one-shot I wrote several years ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Aziraphale!" The angel heard the voice of his partner before they burst through the doors of the bookshop.

"Lia, you're alright," Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief seeing you already up and around after the injury you'd sustained during the demon's attack on the bookshop. Crowley had whisked you away to the home the three of you shared a few blocks over the second the demons were gone. You'd been in dire need of healing and rest you wouldn't have gotten in the chaos surrounding Gabriel and Beezelbub's revealed tryst. You of course had insisted Crowley return to Aziraphale's side the second you were patched up, "I have the most wonderful news."

"Zira," the crack in your voice made Aziraphale's heart stutter. He hadn't heard that sound from you in decades not since... no he couldn't bare to dredge up that memory, "Please don't do this."

Aziraphale realized Crowley must have already told you what happened between them. 

"You can come with me," Aziraphale took a step towards you, and his face momentarily crumpled when you fell back a step in response and he saw the tears threatening to spill down your face, "The Metatron promised things would be different with me in charge. He told me that Crowley would be welcomed back and you would be permitted entry. We just have to convince Crowley-" 

"You honestly believe that after everything the angels have put me through, put us through they'd just let a demon and a hybrid monstrosity walk right into their ranks with open arms?" you spat, every ounce of disdain and disgust you held against Heaven dripped from your voice like acid, "Do you not remember what they did to me? How they experimented on me? How they fucking hunted me like an animal for centuries because my parents were an angel and a demon? How they hunted and hated a child simply for being born?"

"It will be different now," Aziraphale's eyes pleaded with you, "I'll make things different." 

"You honestly believe you can change a system that has quite literally been like this since the dawn of time?" Aziraphale hated the look in your eyes. The doubt and pain in them was a knife in his chest, "Zi, Crowley was cast out simply for asking questions. What makes you think they will welcome me into their sterile white paradise? I'm an abomination, remember? I'm below the demons in Heaven's hierarchy of trash."

"Please, Azalia," Aziraphale stepped forward to take your hands in his, and this time you let him, "I know they have hurt you. I was the one that pulled you out of that prison the angels locked you up in to do those experiments. I helped Crowley nurse you back to health. I may not have loved you as long as Crowley has but I love you just as much. You know that. Please tell me you know that." 

"I do," you nodded.

"Good," Aziraphale brought a hand up to wipe away the tears now running freely down your cheeks. A small smile graced his lips as you leaned into his touch, your eyes closed, "I wouldn't have proposed this if I thought for a second they would hurt you. I will never let them lay a hand on you in Heaven."

"They don't have to lay a hand on me to hurt me," you whispered and opened your eyes to meet his, "Please, Aziraphale. We've worked so hard for the life we've made here. Why do you want to give it up? We're free here. Finally free after centuries of hiding who we are. In Heaven, there will be rules and expectations even you can't change."

"Azalia," Azirphale started but you cut him off. 

"I know you believe in Heaven. That you believe they can change," you took the hand he held to your face in yours and squeezed it gently as you lowered it, "I wish I could believe in that as much as you do."

"Lia," it was Aziraphale's turn for his voice to crack, "Don't do this. I can't lose you, too." 

"I'm sorry Aziraphale," you let your hands fall from his and began to back away, "I love you so much, but if you go back to Heaven... I can't go with you. Not after everything they've put all of us through. Not just me but you and Crowley. I know you can't see it yet, but Heaven has victimized you, too, and I can't forgive any of it."

Aziraphale was speechless as he watched you turn your back on him and walk for the door just like Crowley had. Hope fluttered in his chest as you paused upon the threshold of the shop. 

"If you change your mind about all of this madness with Heaven," you didn't so much as turn your head as you spoke instead keeping your eyes fixed on the door as you held it, "You know where to find us."  

Not me. Us. 

As you pushed your way out of the bookshop and disappeared into the morning crowds, it hit Aziraphale that he'd lost both of you. You and Crowley chose Earth and each other over him. If the Metatron hadn't walked in seconds after the doors swung shut on your departure, Aziraphale would have fallen apart. He still might. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you walked away from the bookshop and your partner inside, it felt like you were being burned alive from the inside out by holy water and hellfire all over again. That had nearly killed you nearly 5 decades ago. This might as well. 

You might have fallen apart in the middle of the street if you hadn't found your other partner waiting down the block from the shop by his car. The second you were within arms reach of Crowley, he opened his arms to you. 

A sob escaped your lips as you buried your face into his chest. The familiar scent of him was an immediate comfort as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed circles on your back. 

"I'm sorry, love," Crowley muttered into your hair before he rested his chin atop your head. He wasn't usually one for public displays of affection but today he made the exception. 

"I tried," you whimpered, your face still buried in his shirt. 

"I knew you would," you could hear the sad smile in Crowley's words. 

Neither of you said anything more or moved for several minutes. Not until you felt Crowley tense. 

You turned away from Crowley enough to face back towards the bookshop but your partner kept you tucked close under his arm. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Aziraphale exiting the bookshop with the Metatron. 

Aziraphale hesitated by the doors of the lift that would take him back to Heaven. Both you and Crowley held your breath as the angel you both loved so passionately stood on the threshold of a decision that would change your lives forever. If the thoughts of two people alone had the power to change the will of another, Aziraphale never would have taken that final step away from his partners.

"Let's go home," Crowley whispered after the doors to Heaven closed on the pair of angels. 

He was the first to move and ushered you around the Bentley towards the passenger side. He kept his arm around you as he opened the door and only broke contact when you were seated inside the car. 

Your thoughts drifted away from the Bentley as Crowley started the car and pulled away into the street to drive to the home you had once shared with the two loves of your life. 

Now where it had once been three it would only be two hearts in that home. 

You wanted to hate Aziraphale for forcing you to choose like this. You wanted to hate him for being blinded by Heaven and not seeing the truth in why you and Crowley couldn't go. You wanted to hate him for leaving both of you. You wanted to hate him for it all so badly but your traitorous heart wouldn't let you.

You'd loved the Angel of the Eastern Gate so much and for so long it wasn't likely the hurt of today would dim that any time soon.