#i have a fair bit of trust in her compassion now at least

[spottedenchants]

while i have much love in my heart for both of the taxi wizards, there is an important distinction in that essek is son boy and ryn is hand in marriage

[thesherrinfordfacility]

I am actually curious your thoughts on Aziraphale and accountability as, and I really don't mean this is as an attack (❤️), several of the meta I've read recently have seemed rather uncharitable towards Crowley, and not how I generally perceive his character at all. Which, having certain biases for characters is fine, but I am curious your thoughts on Aziraphale and that 😊

hi anon!!!✨ definitely not seen as an attack; im aware that i do talk a lot about crowley and a good proportion of those opinions/interpretations are definitely more critical than most. and i realise that a good amount of that comes across as biased, but the only thing i can say that i promise i don't mean to be, and tbh - i just find aziraphale so much harder to analyse (and as such, what follows is basically word vomit im sorry)

there are equally multiple instances, in aziraphale's case, where he doesn't appear to acknowledge his own accountability in situations when he arguably should.

to labour on a longstanding example; he lies to crowley about where the antichrist is in s1. i think personally it's important to note why i think he lies; crowley's solution is to either kill a child (specifically, have aziraphale do it) or to run away to alpha centauri and sack off humanity altogether. neither of those options are reconcilable to aziraphale, and i think he keeps the location of adam to himself in order to safeguard him - he similarly gets bad vibes from the archangels, and lies to them too. but when he tries to reach god, fails, and then finds out that the metatron - the next best thing to god and, we're told, is her voice - is absolutely in support of the apocalypse, the first thing he does is ring crowley, and immediately tell him he knows where the antichrist is.

now, im not saying, at all, that aziraphale is apologising by calling crowley, because he isn't. he doesn't admit to having lied, having not trusted crowley (no matter how justifiable that decision might have been at the time), and for leaving crowley in the dark. as far as crowley's aware, from his perspective, aziraphale never lied in the first place. but from the audience perspective, it can be read like aziraphale admitting that crowley was right, and making amends. yes, it's born out of panic that heaven is no longer a solution, and the de facto, last-resort solution needs to be crowley (which comes with its own implications, but again, things have to be pretty dire for aziraphale to even risk the option of killing the child), but it also feels like a silent, 'you were right, you had it right all along, and i see that i was wrong to trust heaven. let my actions speak for me.'

but that's tenuous at best, right? i agree. so, id like to look again at the apology dance, and the circumstances that put them there - the So Did I argument. i have multiple thoughts, that im going to repeat a lot of before, but writing it out sometimes helps me work out what im (eventually) trying to say!

crowley isn't wholly forthcoming/truthful with why he doesn't want aziraphale to help gabriel; it's a bit more than the simple fact of gabriel wanting to throw aziraphale into hellfire. crowley's personal adversity to gabriel are the words he said (as he later admits). it would have been incredibly vulnerable for him to do so, but had crowley spelled out for aziraphale in the So Did I argument why he was so vehement against sheltering gabriel, it may not have changed aziraphale's mind but it would have at least put them on a level playing field. aziraphale, i think, shows crowley exactly why he wants to help him - kindness and compassion, with no ulterior motive than the fact that gabriel just simply doesn't have anyone else.

that being said, aziraphale appears to remain completely ignorant to, or have intentionally disregarded, what the boundaries of 'our side' actually is, especially in crowley's eyes. crowley has only ever meant it to be the two of them, and noone else gets a look-in. i think it's fair to say that aziraphale's perspective is less cut-throat, and more blurry, than that - that he still considers that there should be room for Everything Else. i can imagine that has to feel like a big betrayal to crowley, and in that context it's understandable that he then seems to retract the idea of 'our side' altogether. the heated lines that ensure then detail the conversation entirely:

crowley then storms out, and what aziraphale is left with is the feeling that he is doing the Right Thing, helping someone selflessly, and crowley is refusing to do that (and therefore 'in the wrong'). he's also left with the sense of abandonment; he told crowley about the Something Terrible, that he needed help (something that aziraphale doesn't do often/at all - hence why 'i need you!' hits so hard in the final fifteen imo), and crowley still walked away

so when it comes to the apology dance - crowley is on the back foot purely because of the BOL threat. there's no way he's going to walk away this time, now that aziraphale has been directly threatened - essentially, crowley is trapped into whatever aziraphale wants from him, even if he'll put up a bit of a fight before doing it - aziraphale is steadfast that he deserves the apology dance this time*, that he's in the right

but the one thing they don't do is literally discuss why the dance would be needed in the first place - there's no discussion whatsoever that would even begin to unravel why either way party would be hurt by what the other did. the dance is a farce, one crowley performs with an ulterior motive in mind, but aziraphale only sees it as crowley apologising for the fight.

but what aziraphale doesnt stop to consider is that he may have had a part in it; aziraphale is a highly analytical character, and the equation that he arrives at is, 'argument' + 'crowley doing the dance to mark the unspoken apology (good enough)' = 'crowley was wrong, i was right'. *it doesn't even cross his mind to think beyond the words that accompany the dance, and consider that he had a part in it too. the two of them, for all the lessons that we see them experience in s2, seem to think rather a lot in absolutes - and aziraphale most of all.

i dont think aziraphale magically reaches any kind of epiphany about what he said/did that hurt crowley, and what he therefore needs to take accountability for... unless perhaps we count this?

this is all speculation, of course, but does aziraphale clock that crowley has agreed to help hiding gabriel, have performed the joint miracle, but he might have done it only for aziraphale? it definitely doesn't seem that crowley has suddenly found a hidden, altruistic facet to himself, and he hasn't done it because he considers himself gabriel's friend (quite the opposite, the vehemence in his voice would attest). so, does aziraphale's look signify his realisation that crowley has come back purely for aziraphale himself? that he hasn't retracted 'their side', like aziraphale possibly feared he had, and they are still a team of the two of them? does aziraphale then think that perhaps this is crowley's real apology, and reflects that he needs to reexamine his part in the argument, and how crowley perceived?

as im writing this, it does all feel a bit of a stretch - but it can't be denied that aziraphale then spends the rest of the series, in his very unique (and i say that tongue-in-cheek) way trying to demonstrate to crowley just what 'their side' means to him, what crowley means to him - even if it doesn't quite land 😬 he might not have apologised out loud, but his actions thereafter seem in to suggest that he's aware of what he did wrong. but, in typical fashion, he's trying to speak to crowley in the language that crowley uses with him - he tries to show crowley, when crowley could do with being told.

i think special mention also needs to be paid to the fact that both of them - but especially aziraphale - are absolute terrors when it comes to fucking about with humans. i don't think i necessarily need to wax lyrical about this, but through a combination of messing about with maggie and nina's relationship, fucking about with the two guys in the edinburgh graveyard, the couple in the pub, the whole-ass ball... s2 in particular is a disaster when it comes to aziraphale toying with autonomy and agency, with free will, without any conscience - he doesn't recognise that it's wrong. LWA has pointed out that aziraphale does reach that assessment in the airfield scene of the book, but its pretty clear from his continued behaviour in s2 that this hasn't exactly translated into the show!canon in the same way.

he recognises at the airfield that he was wrong to assume that adam needed to be 'good' in order to make the right call, rather than being simply 'human', but that's not the conclusion that he ought to reach that would indicate that he accepts full responsibility for his actions. this is particularly telling in these two statements:

aziraphale operates in the rather blissful state of mind, in the security, that he is intrinsically good; ive discussed this concept a lot, strangely, when it comes to looking at the metatron and how he might view himself (and speculating on his character being explored in s3), but if aziraphale labours under the same misapprehension that he is completely good, without room for nuance, how can any of his actions therefore be wrong? what does he have to apologise for, if he's always been in the right? (which tbh adds another layer, for me, re: his pissed-off mood when recounting all of the times he did the dance)

i do think he starts to accept the part of himself that contradicts this - his comment on him being light grey in 1941, but also his bashful expression at the end of s1 ("just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing") - but if we consider his inability? reluctance? to admit fault or error, we could surmise that he still largely holds this mentality... until, perhaps, here in ep6? when he realises through the medium of another couple, another angel and demon, that the sides literally do not have to exist?

idk if this has answered your ask sufficiently, anon, and reading it back im wincing at all the bits where im straying once again into the aziraphale bias, but i promise ive tried to be as balanced as possible!!!✨

[heinzpilsner]

I guess someone may be confused about why I didn't roast Zuko's behaviour in "The Awakening", focusing mostly on Mai.

Is it my favouritism speaking? Did I lost my Zuko roasting touch?

Well, I'm all too happy to try and go this path!

So... What do we have here?

Actually, answering with a self-reflecting monologue to the "Aren't you cold?" question is a bit of an overkill.

Zuko obviously needs someone to share his troubles with, and doesn't really check first whether Mai is interested in such a conversation, which is quite self-centred of him.

But... There are two little things to consider.

Zuko has reasons to worry.

Mai is his girlfriend. Who looks at him tenderly. Kisses him. And asks him if he's cold.

I doubt if it's possible for a girl to genuinely care about physical comfort of a guy without caring about his personal troubles as well. By all accounts, Mai should be interested. These things kinda go together as a general manifestation of love for a person.

Well, to be fair, Mai loves* a person. It's just the imaginary person who isn't really here.

(*I believe if she were cynically interested in using Zuko's body, she'd behave a little differently. ... Well, unless she's good at pretending and solely cares about Zuko's health because a guy with a cold wouldn't be so kissable. But... no, let's give Mai a little bit more trust here)

Anyway, what I mean is, it wasn't all that inadequate of Zuko to expect Mai's interest in his 'whole life story' after such a question.

And while in general your partner isn't obligated to discuss with you your personal troubles, it's just something they will want to do spontaneously if they love you enough.

Even if they're really tired and not in a state for supporting you when you need it, at least they will try to make it clear that they care in general. Well, if they value your relationship, that is.

What Mai does in this situation?

She bluntly lets Zuko know that his expectations weren't adequate, basically calls his troubles insignificant, and then... kisses him.

(Geez, I can only imagine how confusing Mai's behavior must appear for a clueless boy who has no experience in romance except for one failed date! and one weird encounter of unclear status in prison)

But... believe it or not, in Mai's own eyes acting like this equals emotional support - devaluing problems instead of dealing with them is a pattern that helps her in her life, after all.

The thing she doesn't realise though is what when it's another person's troubles she tries to devalue, her approach doesn't really work so well. Especially when a person in question is freaking Zuko. Especially if what he's trying to discuss is his inner changes.

But wait, someone may say. We don't know the whole context of their relationship by the time this scene occurs! Who knows what has been going on on this ship for months? What if there's more here than meets the eye?

Well, it's good you asked! Actually, I already tried to compose all the possible hypothetical scenarios in which Mai could be right and Zuko could be wrong in this situation! And I was really methodical about it, you know. I did Zuko really dirty in my imagination, hehehe. And...

... I found none of those scenarios to be possible. Because all the versions in which Zuko's behaviour with Mai was inadequate led me to logical contradictions.

Firstly, let's imagine their relationship started as purely physical and impersonal by mutual consent.

Well, even if it was like that in the beginning, now Mai's signals to Zuko are surely mixed as hell. Hence, his confusion in such a case would be perfectly understandable.

Let's look at another scenario. What if before that Zuko abused Mai's compassion and kept sucking her energy out non-stop with his constant whining? As if there was any energy in this girl to suck out in the first place, pfft

Well, in that case, I have one question. Why, after all of this, Mai still looks at Zuko so tenderly, initiates kisses with him and wants to be together?

I mean, Zuko is handsome, but there is no guy on earth handsome enough for a self-respecting girl to tolerate this kind of behaviour for long. So, nope.

Alright, another version. What if Zuko just wasn't all that invested in his relationship with Mai and didn't care about her much, but now expects her support selfishly?

Actually, it could be the case, but it raises another question. Why Mai wasn't perturbed by his lack of affection up to this point? Did she just... overlook it? Well, then it was her own (unconscious) choice all along to ignore the signs of Zuko's disinterest for the sake of satisfying her own selfish desires.

And what kind of love is that if you don't even notice when a person you keep kissing doesn't love you back?

A kataang kind of love, actually

And lastly... No, I'm not even gonna start to entertain here the idea that Zuko's troubles really were that laughably insignificant. Did you watch atla at all, geez?

I'm not stating here that Zuko's behavior was perfect, but at the end of the day, there's a simple fact:

Mai with Zuko looks much happier than without him - even Azula notices this.

Zuko with Mai, on the other hand... Well, he doesn't look completely desperate? It's a good sign, I suppose?.. 

And this is all you really need to know about their relationship's dynamic in "The Awakening".

Of course, if we believe the writers, this dynamic will shift soon enough.

But that is another story.

Something like this.

(And here's your usual friendly reminder that I ignore all the notifications ❤)

[rootspiral]

I’m gonna rank the Yellowjackets surviving adults from the most normal to the most unhinged based on how well they’re coping with trauma. Will try not to spoil the newest episode but no promises. It’s just the four main gals for now, I’ll add Lottie and possibly redacted when I get a better idea of who they are now.

In fourth place we have Natalie. On a scale from zero to, well, Shauna, Natalie definitely has had the most understandable reaction to going through hell: she became a lonely self-loathing addict with hyperfixations and rage issues. Back in the day Nat had such a strong moral compass, and she was most of all a very kind person. Even when she did something iffy, she did it out of love, fear or self-preservation, never malice though. All she ever wanted was to fix things. And sure she’s a wreck now, but that morality is still strong and that’s why she’s the only one who is actively trying (and failing) to face her past, and the guilt is eating her up inside. She’s the only one out of the group that I actually wish will get some sort of peace and closure in the end. (Also have you seen how 🤏 Juliette Lewis is?! If you don’t want to scoop up long-suffering, washed-up Nat in your arms and tell her everything’s gonna be okay I do not trust you.)

In third place there’s Misty, and please let is sit for a moment that Misty fucking Quigley isn’t in first place on the crazy scale. Did she even went through trauma, or was she just like that to begin with? Did she commit all those crimes because she’s evil, or because she’s the saddest, loneliest, most pathetic little wet rat? And what crimes, really? Some sabotaging, light stalking, poisoning, manipulating, disposing of a body, the occasional murder and recreational cannibalism? Poor wretched Misty, cursed to be rejected and ridiculed by the people she loves only because she happens to be a bit more passionate than average. Isn’t that punishment enough, I ask you? Maybe one day Nat will recognize her good qualities – she’s smart, handy in a crisis, she’s ride or die, she’s kind to animals unlike SOMEONE higher on this list! And then she’ll be finally accepted in the inner circle and live happily ever after. Maybe she’ll sacrifice herself and die in a blaze of glory. Maybe (probably) she’ll drown in a hole like the mangy little critter she is. But I can’t help rooting for her.

In second place we have Taissa! I’m SO fascinated by her. Because Tai is also a good person, or at the very least strives to be. She’s a natural leader, she’s always stepping up, making sure everything is fair and accounted for, she’s always pushing the others to be better. And yet there’s this rage inside her that scares her shitless, and we still don’t know what’s the deal with her past and the Man with No Eyes, but add that to all the shit that happened in the woods and you have an explosive trauma cocktail. Unlike Nat who no matter what will sit with her pain and consume or be consumed by it, Tai has taken all her ugly parts, cut them off and locked them in a dark box somewhere, letting them fester. And that might have worked for a while after they were rescued, but now that she’s going through some real stress and compromising her morality that darkness is just pouring out and chopping her up into bloody little pieces. Currently Taissa is a giant fucking mess and still it took dooming her marriage, traumatizing her child, beheading the family dog and hallucinating to the point she no longer knows what’s real – to even begin to admit that she miiiight not be in control. And so we have Shadow!Taissa, born of denial and shame and avoidance. And who is she? For now we only know that she doesn’t identify as Taissa at all, she is quite literally her antithesis, and that she embraces the supernatural darkness that Tai tries to rationalize. I have no idea how this is gonna go, the ideal outcome would be for the two halves to accept and embrace each other and form a whole person again. We’ll see.

In first place there’s ✨Ms. Shauna Sadecki✨, and I could just leave it at this. Because see, Misty isn’t unhinged, she’s quite predictable in her madness. Shauna is the proverbial horse loose in a hospital, we don’t have a fucking idea what she’s gonna do next and neither does she. Mark my words, we’ve just began to scratch the surface of what makes Shauna tick, and she’s just gonna get more and more deranged. Shauna who tries and tries and tries to be normal, in a house full of mementos of the best friend she betrayed and consumed, ignoring her, obsessed with her, haunted by her. With a kid she loves so much she hates her, or maybe she’s never been capable of loving, she can’t tell anymore. With a husband too good for her and too bland and stupid for her, who knows everything about her and yet doesn’t know her at all. Shauna chopping up rabbits, Shauna chopping up people, Shauna the butcher. The thrill of it all, the banality of it all. The darkness and bloodlust purring inside her, and she’s so close to letting go, to giving herself whole to it. Frankly what Shauna needs is going to jail and getting a LOT of therapy in the process. What I need though, is cannibal serial killer Shauna. I deserve cannibal serial killer Shauna. I want her unhinged, I want her to go on a rampage. Please, I’ve been so fucking good.

[iheartbookbran]

Ok so actually my biggest problem with the whole “Daenerys will burn KL” theory—not even the Mad Queen Dany theory, which is of course very sexist for obvious reasons, but just like, the idea that Dany will ~accidentally~ ignite the wildfire in the city, burning it all to the ground. That, at first, doesn’t sound that bad, but the longer I think about it the more I hate it because tbh it doesn’t do anything for her character? And also… that fate for her is just down right cruel.

Like, the most frequent argument I see on why this would be at all satisfactory for Dany’s arc is basically that it would be a sort of lesson for her about the dangers of unchecked power and the real threat the Dragons can pose on humans and that she shouldn’t use them to fight against other people. And that’s all well and good, excellent message… except that’s not something Dany’s ever really needed to learn? Not anymore that her fellow rulers, which I will touch on more detail later, but in general Dany has seen what the abuse of power can do. Starting with her conflicting feelings regarding Viserys and how she recognizes that even though he was her brother and she loved him, he also abused his power over her as her older brother, her only family and her king; she feels guilt about the atrocities Drogo committed to the lhazarene and tries to help them; she feels so much guilt about not handling things correctly in Astapor that she decides to throw away all her plans to go to Westeros and instead stays in Meereen.

And about not knowing the true danger that her dragons can pose? I mean, this is the same girl that literally agonizes across several of her ADWD chapters because Drogon killed a child, and then takes the extreme measure of caging Rhaegal and Viserion to prevent that from ever happening again. I think she’s at least a little bit aware that the dragons can be dangerous, thank you very much.

Ok so this got long...

Anyways, the only time Dany legit uses Drogon to harm someone and not just as bluff was at the house of the Undying, where she was being attacked, and in Astapor… and like, lmao, that asshole Kraznys mo Nakloz and the rest of his slaver buddies deserved it. Don’t at me. Also, Dany’s hardly the only one with a big magical and deadly beast at her disposal, why didn’t Robb had to go through some horrifying traumatic incident to learn he shouldn’t use Grey Wind in battle to tear his enemies’ throats. Bran will be learning about the dangers of abusing power, but that’s linked to his magic powers and an actual reprehensible thing he’s doing, not the use of his glorified prehistoric dog to kill, which he’s done, just like Robb. By all means let the narrative hold Dany accountable for her mistakes… but her actual mistakes and not shit she has no control over, because she doesn’t have much control over Drogon or the other dragons even though she’s trying to, and that’s very obvious in her last ADWD chapter where she’s delirious and Drogon could kill her at any moment, and she knows that.

The other big argument people make for Dany burning KL (even if it’s by accident!) is that it will teach her about the price of war, that someone as young as her shouldn’t be leading armies and conquering kingdoms, and that fighting for the Iron Throne is not a worthy cause, and I feel like that misses the actual point of her story by a mile. First of all because a) Dany is hardly the only teenage ruler in the story and b) this is a fantasy medieval story, a lot of the characters shouldn’t be doing the things they do, aaaand yet. Also speaking of other teenage rulers with far more power that they should have—Robb and Jon, being the biggest examples.

Granted, Robb and Jon aren’t exactly successful during their time as rulers, they’re literally betrayed and killed by their own men (even if Jon will technically come back for round 2 of bullshit he’s too tired for). But the moral of their stories is not that they lost because theirs was an unworthy cause and they were stupid kids wholly unprepared for their roles. And I actually partially agree! They are just kids, including Dany, and they shouldn’t be responsible for looking after so many others and going to battle, but their cause is still just and worthy, even with all the mistakes they make along the way. Robb didn’t loose because he was wrong in demanding justice for his family or trying to protect the riverlands from the Lannisters and their minions, he lost because Tywin Lannister was a giant coward who couldn’t take him out in a fair fight.

Likewise, it isn’t wrong of Jon to try to incorporate refugees from beyond the Wall into Westeros. He’s not too stupid and honorable to do politics like his father (how I hate when people insult Jon and Ned like that), and while he did some very obvious mistakes that inevitably ended in a coup and in him dying, this is more connected to his inability to let go of his ties with his family (mainly Arya or who he believes to be her), and in isolating himself from his friends and the people he could actually trust.

I’ve always thought that Dany and Jon share a parallel narrative within the story, so while Jon is struggling with that Dany is faced with similar problems. She cages her dragons, that to her represent the only family she has left, and she tries to compromise with the slavers, marry a man she doesn’t love, pretend she’s ok with reopening the fighting pit. While she tries her best to rule wisely in Meereen, it all comes at the cost of betraying herself and her beliefs, so it’s no surprise when it all crashes around her and she’s betrayed and nearly killed. Ironically, it is Drogon who comes to rescue her.

If they are monsters, so am I.—Daenerys II, ADWD.

This is hands down one of my favorite Dany quotes from the whole series, and I hate that it’s been given such a negative connotation in the fandom, when for me it represents Dany’s humanity and compassion at the fullest.

GRRM has a knack for humanizing the ‘monsters’ of his story, for showing the good in the outcasts and the ugly and the scary. He embraces their ‘otherness’ and makes them the heroes of his stories; Arya, Bran, Brienne, Dany, Tyrion, Jon, Theon and many others are all compared to monsters or beasts at one point or another in the books.

Dany sees herself in her dragons, literal monsters in every sense of the word. Later on she faces Drogon inside the pit, and in that moment you could say that she accepts that ‘monstrous’ part of her, and in doing so she’s saved from her fate of dying at the hands of the men who would crucify innocent children and gleefully profit off of the suffering of their fellow human beings while watching them fight each other to the death for their own amusement. Now tell me who’s the real monster in this situation.

But shortly before that happens, Dany is able to see the humanity in Tyrion, an outcast who has been branded as monstrous and unlovable due to his disability all his life, a man who has come to believe in his abusers’ rhetoric about him so strongly that he’s started to act cruel and detached. She saves his life. She sees value in his life when few others would, because she cares.

I’ve always find it funny that the “dragons plant no trees” is—another—example fans use to argue in favor of Dany’s descent into Darkness™ because the actual scene goes like this:

You are a queen, her bear said. In Westeros.

"It is such a long way," she complained. "I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl."

No. You are the blood of the dragon. The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words.—Daenerys X, ADWD.

Now am I the only one who finds it at least a bit relevant that it’s freaking Jorah Mormont aka Jorah the Enslaver whom Dany’s subconscious, at her literal lowest moment, utilizes to represent this particular thought, which btw I’ve always interpreted as Dany’s own self-loathing manifesting in her, and this is something she’s actually always struggled with—the idea that she’s not enough and she’s failing. Because above all things, even Westeros or the Iron Throne, what Dany wants is peace, she wants to plant trees.

When Dany made her descent, Reznak and Skahaz dropped to their knees. "Your Worship shines so brightly, you will blind every man who dares to look upon you," said Reznak. […] This match will save our city, you will see."

"So we pray. I want to plant my olive trees and see them fruit." Does it matter that Hizdahr's kisses do not please me? Peace will please me. Am I a queen or just a woman?—Daenerys VII, ADWD.

But of course the world doesn’t work like that, and so long as there’s Jorahs and Tywins and Eurons out there, men who would take the freedom of humans and submit them to their will, Dany can’t have the luxury of peace, just like Jon can’t have the luxury of belonging and family so long as there’s people still beyond the Wall who need his protection.

And I think that’s fine. It’s fine that Dany failed, it will help her develop as a character and realize that there’s no room to compromise with slavers, the metaphorical monsters of the story who do far more harm than the other more literal ‘monsters’ of the story. So that when she has to face down Euron Greyjoy—who btw, there’s a high chance he will end up stealing one of Dany’s dragons via Victarion using Dragonbinder… y’know, as in enslaving one of her children and using said dragon to inflict god knows what horrors, yet not many people ever consider this for some reason?—she will know. When she has to face down the Others, the magical ice fairies with no regard for human life, she will know.

That’s why I believe that it would make absolutely no sense for Dany to have to go through such a tragic and traumatic experience like burning a whole city even by pure accident, over something that’s either never been a problem with her character or she’s well into her way of learning anyways, so it would just feel repetitive. As I have pointed out, she’s already reached one of the lowest moments of her arc. Not saying there will be no other blows for her, and probably the destruction of KL will be one of them, and knowing Dany she will feel responsibility over it no matter what, but that doesn’t mean she has to be the culprit, intentional or otherwise.

[archetypal-archivist]

Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone P.2

So, a little while back I wrote piece titled Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone (linked here) which was inspired by the works of @petrichormeraki and @redorich, who popularized the AU of Tommyinnit from the Dream SMP getting dropped into Hermitcraft somehow and summarily getting adopted by the entire server. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided “yes, but also angst” and spat out a solid 1500+ words with a cliffhanger at the end because it was getting ridiculous and I had yet more to write. This is another 1500+ words of continuation. 

-----

It's not easy, knowing things. Joe knows more things than most, and oh, how it eats at him sometimes. He jokes with Cleo that between the two of them and their dogs, they are perhaps the leading experts on being chewed on, but she never laughs at that joke. He can't help but wonder why, his thoughts drifting as he lies still and silent in her arms, curled up together on his bed in the winery. Her orange hair tickles his nose as he moves to bury his face in her shoulder a bit more, her cool breath ghosting over the sticky tear tracks that still line his cheeks. All the things that remain unsaid lie between them, but their silent agreement binds them together tighter still. And indeed silence is the name of the game, however much he wishes it wasn't necessary- everything will work out in due time, he knows. But oh, how it aches that he can't say anything more on the matter, not even to her.

"Cleo?" The zombie woman makes a soft inquiring noise, politely ignoring how his voice cracks on the syllables. "Are we doing the right thing?" Her grip tightens again, almost crushingly so, and Joe goes limp at the implied rebuke. Be it right or wrong, his silence must be ensured- he knows so much that if he said anything, it'd all come pouring out. A real modern-day Cassandra, verbal fountain and harbinger of doom in one. No, best to stay cryptic when he can and silent when he can't- and if even his silence fails, Cleo is there, sword in hand, ready to keep him quiet.

He should not take comfort from that. But here, wrapped up in his best friend's embrace, utterly at her mercy and all the safer for it... He does anyway.

-----

Joe and Cleo aren't in a romantic relationship, but it would not be amiss to call them platonic life partners in this universe. Joe has been seeing things for as long as he can remember, the exact mechanics are strange and baffling at best, and if he tries to actually do any Science to figure out how this stuff works, the magic changes to spite him. It's led to a lot of unfortunate visions of peanut butter and how the server generally tends to misuse the stuff (Etho sometimes using it instead of slime in a sticky piston is a milder example), so after enough peanut visions to make him allergic on principle, Joe tends to just let the visions come as they may. The only hard-coded bit that comes with them is that anyone living who hears his prophecies won't believe them and will have something bad happen to them as a result. Cleo, being a zombie, is a special exception to the rule. She's only alive in the most technical of senses, so while bad things still happen to her if she hears Joe speak about his experiences, she at least will believe him.

Which is why she is so determined to not know more about whatever is going on with Tommy. When Joe had rushed in a month ago, tears streaming down his cheeks and glasses barely hanging onto his face, she had merely put down the book she had been reading and had opened her arms wide to him. Convincing him that she would not betray his trust or break his heart had been hard, but she had known it was worth it. How can it be anything but, when Joe had looked at her then as if she was the most precious being on the planet and had immediately thrown himself into her arms, bursting out into troubled tears? He offered to tell her the full story, eyes wet and longing, and her long-dead heart ached at the trust he is giving her- but she is far too selfish to give that up. So she had turned him down, smile on her lips.

Even when he whispered, voice hoarse, that they wouldn't be seeing Tommy for a while. Even when he shuddered and shook in her arms, fragile as glass in her grip. Even when he begged her to ask, just ask, please, it's too much... She did not ask. If she asked, he would tell her, and then she would be hurt and his heart would break because it would be his words that had hurt her. She would not, cannot, will never inflict that upon him, or let him inflict that upon anyone else. (Of all the heads in her collection, the one she has most of is Joe's.)

She simply asks him if there will be a satisfying ending, and when he says yes, she asks no more. Everything will be okay, in the end. So long as there is that much, so long as she has Joe in her arms and the comfortable silence stretches out between them, then she will be content.

(At the foot of their bed, deep in Joe's winery where the barking is muffled and the light cannot touch them, there lies a chest of heads. Inside it, nestled among the many faces of the dead, rests an old iron sword bearing the name Hush. It's blade is rusty from disuse, but if Cleo ever decides that she isn't satisfied, well. There are ways of dealing with that.)

(Things will be okay. She'll make sure of it.)

-----

Philza was no stranger to death. A veteran of a hardcore world, where even the very earth was out to kill him, he had seen his fair share of deaths and had dealt out even more. Usually just to the local mobs and wildlife, but there was still the occasional player dropped into his world by the cruel hands of the Void as a sort of "apology" for leaving him alone, bereft of his sons. As if some random strangers could ever fill the Void in his heart.

Most of them had wandered off upon seeing him, more interested in escape than any companionship he could offer them, and he'd inevitably see their death messages in the otherwise silent chat a few days later. Others would approach him, some curious, some desperate for kindness- he gave them none, was often intentionally cruel just to drive them away. He had the Void in his heart and the Void had him, and he ached and ached for what he could not have. Anything less would be a pale imitation, a mockery of the love he was desperate to return to. He tried not to think about how those kind strangers would also come to meet their ends, often more messily than those that had decided to leave him be to begin with.

Then there were the rare few with... less than gentle intentions. (Blood for the Blood gods, no matter the universe.)

Theirs were the deaths he regretted the least, but the blood still gave him nightmares. For all that he loved his sons, he never understood their love for glory, be it found in conquering other nations or the sticky ooze of a dying foe. Maybe that's why he had spent so much of his time with his elder sons when he returned, the Void finally releasing him from his hardcore prison. Just a father's attempt at understanding, even if it left his youngest at loose ends.

But the problem with loose ends, he had come to find, is that the world had a way of setting them to rights- either by tying them back into the grand narrative, or by cutting them out entirely. For months after Dream had come to him, apology on his lips and charred shoe in hand, he had believed that Tommy's fate had been the latter. He had  mourned his son as if such was the case, weeping openly at the news for the first time in years. (He wasn't the only one, though- Technoblade was an only child now and he was not taking it well.) It was only when Tubbo came to him with his compass to ask about its ever-spinning needle that he felt a spark of hope, for a compass that spun was not a compass linked to a dead soul- simply a lost one. Such hope was justified when, six months later, Technoblade burst into his house with a snarl on his lips and a smile in his eyes. Tommy had returned.

And as Phil stood, back straightening and wings spread wide, hope bloomed in his chest like hanahaki, choking him with love right down to his core. Tommy had returned, despite everything.

And Philza would not let him go again.

-----

For all that Tommy might have been... gone for at least a month now on the Hermitcraft server and life has significantly slowed down for all involved, by no means has it stopped entirely. The shops are still stocked, the torches are replaced when the old ones burn out, Hermits still go out and see each other, if less often than before. Xisuma, in fact, instates a series of mandatory meetings every week or so as a way of making sure that everyone is still alive- a bit of reassurance that no one else has died in the time interim. Even the hermits who prefer to keep to themselves show up, such as Tinfoilchef, Joe, and Cleo, although the latter two remain distinctly separate from everyone else on the server during the meetings, their refusal to take a side alienating them from the rest. Grian, broken though he may be, also comes, usually in the arms of Iskall or with a vacant smile on his face depending on the state of his mental health on the given day. His presence is also alienating, as most of the hermits don't quite know what to say around him and thus will give him and Iskall a bubble of space to themselves during the meetings. Mumbo is the only one to cross the divide, standing loomingly tall at Iskall's back, as if daring anyone to say something potentially hurtful to either of his friends.

Frankly, the entire concept of weekly meetings is a bit of a mess. Xisuma stands at the front with Keralis at his back, voice and posture more and more tired with every meeting and Keralis standing just a bit closer, a silent show of support (ready if his admin ever needs some physical support too). The prognosis is usually a mix of dull stuff and hopeless stuff- lag is better than it has been in years, the Chestmonster shop is out again, Tommy still has not been... found. It's not exciting exactly, but the tension during the reporting stage is palpable as everyone waits to hear if something else has gone wrong. It's a bit like being on the front lines- horrible, drawn-out minutes of tedium as everyone holds their breath, waiting to see if another bombshell will drop but knowing that they have to be there, because some warning is infinitely better than seeing a death message in chat one day and not knowing if that person will ever make it back.

In addition to this is the tension that comes from the server being split in three- the believers, the mourners, and those too damaged or too caught up in their own narratives or too neutral to swing to one side or the other.

The meetings are where the most near-fights happen, and Xisuma is so, so tired of having to be the sane one these days. (The benefit of a helmet, he's come to find, is that no one can see you cry.)

(He doesn't take it off much anymore.)

-----

It's after one such meeting that Zedaph finds himself cooped up in his base, eyes burning with unshed tears and feet dangling out into the Void as he sits at the bottom of the hole in his base, the one that goes straight to bedrock and then even further still. The chill is a welcome distraction from his own inner turmoil, and for all that it's dangerous to be sitting so near to the edge of the world, he can't find it in himself to move away form its cold comfort. After all, Tommy can't have died permanently, right? So sitting there is perfectly safe. He has to believe that. He has to.

The meetings are tough on everyone, but sometimes Zedaph wonders if they are a bit worse for him than they are for the rest. It can't be normal that the first thing he does after every meeting is burst into panicked tears as soon as he gets back to his base, as he's certainly never felt such deep fear and relief after the meetings they had before the Incident. And yet, as soon as the iron door of his base sncks shut behind him, he drops down into the Void hole, sits at the edge, and bawls his eyes out. It's kinda funny- he's shed more tears in the last month than he has in his entire life so far. And all for a boy he had known for less than a year.

During this particular day, however, something odd happens. When he sits down for a good cry, it feels like there's the slightest of breezes coming off the Void beneath his feet, chilling him right down to his bones. It's cold, yes, but a welcome relief as he feels a bit like he's burning up from the inside out. Every moment he spends with Tango and Impulse is stifling, as with them he has to shove himself into a hateful mold he never wanted for himself. He doesn't like being angry, and being angry alongside his best friends is hardly any better. If he had it his way, he would have curled up in bed and simply slept the horror away, only waking when the nightmare was over and he could go play mini golf and Among Us with Tango, Impulse, and Tommy again. Instead, his love for his friends demands that he supports them in all their endeavors, even if their goals these days seem to run a little closer to "get them all killed" than is comfortable.

But yes. The breeze. It feels like ice on his skin and sends every nerve in his legs buzzing. It has a distinct smell to it too, like TV static, ozone, and that sensation you get after you brush your teeth and go take a big gulp of cold water. It's... odd. But vaguely comforting. And as the tears finally well up in his eyes and drip down his cheeks, as he lets himself sob for all the friends- both new and old- he's lost, he finds that it's exactly what he needs.

And if Zedaph would only listen a little closer, let himself see beyond his broken heart, perhaps he would hear the whisper on the wind, too.

Everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it.

-----

Evil X has his own troubles to deal with. He had been present when Tommy had died, if watching from the wrong side of their dimension. Lost in the Void with nothing better to do, he had often found himself watching his friend go about his day. With space and time being as screwy as they were in the Void, he could find himself taking three steps and then would be watching Tommy go from sleeping over at BDub's base to having "breakfast" with Rendog. So when Grian and Tommy had gone out End-busting that fateful day, of course he had been watching.  And that was all he could do- watch- as he saw his best friend fall to his apparent death, that little line of code that signaled "perma-death" flashing once, twice, and then glowing a deep, ominous red.

But that wasn't the end of it, even as his dull and bruised heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.

Like a redstone pulse lighting up everything around it, that red glow set off a cascading chain reaction that rippled up and down Tommy's code until it eventually trailed out to wherever his code stretched out into the Void. There, it must have severed something because before he could even call for help, his friend's code yanked inwards and away, slingshotting the whole mess into the distant darkness beyond, leaving naught but a vague impression on the inside of his eyelids behind. It was... awful. One of the scariest things he had ever seen, perhaps second only to watching his brother, stern-faced and cold, send him off to the Void once again. But for all that it hurt to see that red glow and watch in mute horror as the server he had once tried to destroy shake itself apart at the seams, there was still hope.

The code was gone, yes, but not unraveled, not destroyed. Merely... transported. Moved. Like a file being sent from one computer to another, or a player teleporting between servers. Tommy's code vanishing like that was cause for alarm, yes, but somewhere out there in the vastness of the Void, it lingered still- and it had left a faint impression of itself in its wake. That meant there was hope.

Evil X- and by proxy, his twin Xisuma- were voidwalkers, beings specifically designed to see, understand, and even modify the world's code. Were he anything else, he surely would have perished by now, his consciousness scattered across the Void as it was. And having been in exile for so long, he had gotten to be adept at seeing the seams between worlds and reading the truths of existence as the Void had intended for her children. If anyone could follow that faint trail, could get Tommy back, it would be him.

For the first time in a long time, Evil X had hope. And hope is a vicious motivator indeed.

-----

TBC :)

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part II)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: Coming home is melancholy and cold, and your squadmates ask you to do what you couldn't do for a year: speak up and find out what's going on inside Eren's mind.

Words count: 5.3k

They say that when a loved one leaves this world, the days follow turns gray, colorless; How ironic to think that the day we buried Sasha was gray, there wasn’t a trace of the blue sky or some solar ray that could give us the warmth we were lacking. It was cold, a cold that got into your bones and no matter how many hugs and words of mutual support we gave each other, we couldn’t get the warmth we needed.

My soul had been fragmented the moment Sasha left this world, but seeing my friends cry at her grave and leave bouquets of flowers, it fragmented even more. I wasn’t able to meet Nicolo's eyes, my guilt prevented me. Inside, I wanted this Marleyan to yell at me, to tell me that he hated my presence, that Sasha's death had been my fault, and that I should have given my life if it meant saving her. I wanted with all my being that he would give me a reason to really feel guilty.

On the way back to the island, the others assured me that her death wasn’t my fault, that I did everything possible to keep her alive. But my ineptitude, my grief, my low self-esteem prevented me from seeing things clearly. I just needed… something to hold onto.

And I wasn't getting anything.

I felt how I was slowly sinking into the rabbit hole, without the possibility of clinging to a tree root. I was falling, falling, falling, unable to know when I would hit bottom. But that bottom came fast before I could have predicted, because minutes after Nicolo arrived, Sasha's father arrived too, bouquet of beautiful red flowers in hand.

I broke myself. The two people who longed for Sasha most in their lives were standing in front of me, mourning the loss of her young soul. The two people who would hate me the most in the world, standing over my friends's grave. I fell to my knees in front of them and in front of her grave, silently begging for forgiveness.

My tears fell incessantly on the freshly stirred earth as did my fingers, imploring this burden on my chest to dissipate, as if unconsciously I was wishing for Sasha herself to forgive me for letting her die. How could one cope with this heinous feeling? How could I go on, knowing that the world was falling around us, unable to know if the next day we were going to be alive or if Marley would initiate an attack from which we weren’t going to be able to defend ourselves?

My head was racing a thousand per second and the only thing I could let out were those sobs that had accompanied me so much on the way back, the same ones that cradled me to slept, and the tears that so much wanted to dissipate the pain in my soul.

It is said that when a person leaves this world, some people are unable to handle grief, just as they are unable to articulate a word. Apparently I was one of those people.

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Nights and days passed. Those of us who survived the attack on Marley stayed in commune trying to encourage ourselves to continue fighting. Hange had recommended us to rest, since the psychological damage could cause us several injuries in the future, and as for Eren ... we weren’t very aware of him. The last we heard from our commanders is that he was locked away from all human contact, stipulating that it would be better to keep him locked up for a while and let whatever shit that was going through his head dissipate.

But that was complete bullshit. I knew that, even locking him up, they weren't going to be able to change the thoughts that tormented Eren so much. I knew that, whatever was wandering through his mind, he wasn’t letting him alone and he would never let go. How did I know that? Because I spent a whole year trying to get him to let me enter in that shell he has been forming in recent years. I tried very hard to get him to tell me his plan before he went to Marley, but I got nothing, and I still get nothing.

My gaze was lost in the window. The nights grew colder and colder and I hugged my arms as I watched the sunset. The boys were arguing about something, something that Mikasa didn't seem to find funny at all, but my mind wasn’t connected to reality. I just stared out the window, remembering the old days when we'd sneak out to steal a piece of meat from the supply warehouse with Sasha and Connie.

I remembered the nights when the boys sneaked into the women's hut to keep each other warm in our days as recruits. I remembered how Armin let me practice my medicine methods on him when he got hurt, a practice that was lost when he inherited the power of the Colossal Titan.

I remembered how we would escape at dawn, grab a few horses and ride out to the ocean, taking nice cool baths on the warm moonlit summer nights. Now those moments only remained in that, in memories.

"(Y/N) are you listening?"

My gaze detached from the window, now it was fixed on a Connie who looked just as tired of the world as I did. This dwarf turned giant was just as devastated as I was by losing half of him, and yet he was still able to continue fighting alongside our friends.

"We think you might be the most suitable to go talk to Eren"

Armin's calm voice stripped me of any desire to go back to the old moments. I pulled myself away from the window tiredly and let my body unconsciously guide me to one of the couchs in the middle of the room, next to the blonde. Apparently while I was wandering in my thoughts, the tension in the room had reached a point where it could be cut with a simple wave of the hand.

As I sat down, I was able to take a better look at the room. From what I could analyze, the group had divided into two, those who still trusted Eren and those who did not, each with their reasons, and apparently, I was playing the role of mediator. The responsibility fell on me to move the pieces of the board: to talk to our supposed war partner and beg him to tell us about his plans and the demons in his head, or to dethrone him completely.

"What makes you think I can go talk to him?"

My words came out of my mouth colder and sharper than I would’ve liked, but it was the simple truth. If Eren was willing to push each other away to accomplish his task, what was I going to accomplish after a year without having answers to his thoughts?

"I haven't been able to speak to him openly in a year"

Armin and Mikasa gave me completely stunned looks. Not even their childhood friend had told them that his relationship was falling off a cliff.

"I didn't know, I thought you were fine"

"Well, we are not fine at all Armin"

I knew it wasn't fair for Armin to get all my frustration, he wasn't guilty at all. I looked him in the eye and I could find multiple feelings in those huge blue eyes: sadness, compassion, guilt, overwhelm. I knew he was one of the worst going through it, his childhood friend was no longer entirely reliable; he had carried out acts of sheer violence and had become the enemy he hated the most; Armin had become his worst enemy and his eyes clearly showed it.

And it was those same eyes that begged me to do something, to go and talk, to try to figure out the smallest thing we could use to get out of this mess Eren got us into. They implored me to save his soul brother from his mental prison.

I let out a long breath before getting up off the couch and heading to the door.

"I highly doubt that I will achieve anything, but I will try to talk to him"

I took one last look to the guys in front of me before leaving the room, each one wishing me luck and pleading for my well-being with their eyes, and sinking even further into the rabbit hole, or rather, going straight to ventured into the lion's den.

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The road to the dungeons was long and heavy, but not because of the number of blocks and alleys I had to take, but because of what was waiting for me at the end of the road. Upon coming into contact with the stone walls and their semi-armored doors, the blood on my body ran cold, just as it ran cold when we buried Sasha.

The air below the ground was cold, the smell of mold and dirt entered my nostrils, preventing me from taking a couple of steps without feeling like vomiting. The place really needed a better cleaning, otherwise it would be the epicenter of a huge plague.

At the end of the corridor, where the light was dimmer and let the darkness eat much of the cell, was Eren. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him sitting on his supposed bed, staring directly at the wall, or so it seemed; knowing him he was surely lost in his world. I kept my composure, avoiding giving any trace of my emotional and psychological state.

"Hi"

I got no response, as always.

I had the opportunity to inspect his cell, it was quite untidy and dripping with water, coming from the sink which was covered to the top. Unconsciously I prayed that this water was drinkable or at least that it was not too polluted, since I didn’t have to look completely at the brunette in front of me to know he had put his head in that same water.

"I like your hair, looks very smooth"

"What do you want?"

His voice came out calm but imposing and terrifying at the same time, I would be lying if I said I didn’t startle a bit, but I kept my composure as best as possible to avoid showing the fear in my eyes. Eren may not have noticed, but if he did, he was unfazed.

"The guys think that I can talk to you, but I told them they were completely wrong, I mean...we haven't been able to speak like we used to for a year, maybe more"

My words came out of my mouth like the venom of a snake. I couldn't tell if my intention was to make him feel guilty, or at least feel something, to reflect on my words, but guess what… his eyes didn't even leave the wall behind me.

I crossed my arms and rested my body on one of the bars, hoping to have some intimidating way for the damn bastard to decide to speak. Even though bullying wasn't my thing, I, yes, had a tired face and wasn't there to waste my time, but I had to achieve something, get something, whatever, so I could get out of this damn place.

"You know very well that I'm not going to leave until you say something"

His eyes met mine for a few seconds and then returned to their original position. I knew this was going to be difficult, but I couldn't help my irritation growing from my chest. With every minute that passed, the pain in that area was increasing and a lump in the throat was appearing with each tear that I wanted to avoid shedding.

I'd been through shitty days and had to come alone to the exact place I least wanted to be to talk to the person I least wanted to see.

"I'm used to being on my feet for long hours, I can be here all day, and that's exactly what I'm going to do"

I remained planted in front of the cell, positioning myself with crossed arms right in front of his eyes, preventing them from continuing to look at the miserable wall.

But my bad luck wasn't giving me any sign that I was going to win this fight very soon. Although I was covering his peripheral field, his eyes never deigned to look at me, they simply stayed glued to the front, now seeing my body in front, although in reality, he was seeing without seeing.

My patience was running out and this goddamn silent game had only just begun. I had to find something to work with, something that could flicker him or make him angry… anger would not be the best if I wanted to leave with all the bones intact and my already psychological trauma without further damage; but knowing Eren, anger was his fuel, which made him move and in an action-reaction effect, made everyone move together behind him.

That's it. Everyone. But we weren't all here.

Sasha was dead; Reiner, Berthold and Annie traitors and enemies of Paradis; Ymir disappeared and confirmed dead, being inherited by the new jaw titan; the only one missing from our group was our beloved Queen. The Queen that Eren so decided to care for and protect.

"You know, Historia is about to give birth"

It was mild, but I could feel his body tense. His eyes moved just the same slightly, but in those little acts I knew I had struck a chord. And I was willing to use it, even if it meant destroying my sanity and causing one of Eren's greatest worldly anger.

"Wouldn't it be nice to have a little baby on the squad?" I took a deep breath before launching the second impact of the night, preparing to receive whatever blow came next. "After all, it's your child, right?"

His body moved faster than I could ever achieve and my reflexes weren't sharp enough to pull away in time. His hand grabbed my shirt, drawing me towards the bars and hitting my cheeks on each one, now my face was directly in front of him, my field of vision being just his face and finally, his eyes were focused on mine.

"Don't even think about talking about Historia like that"

If looks could kill, surely I would already be dead on the ground. His grip on my chest was strong, he was even capable of ripping the fabric, but with a push back showed me that it wasn’t strong enough, that everything was a facade. I staggered, almost fell to the ground, but either way, I kept my balance and my expression. I was terrified inside, but I forced myself to keep a stoic look at all time, he was trying to play with me and although I was not entirely sure how much there were just words and how much were an act of anger and violence, I couldn’t dedicate myself to having a hint of doubt.

"Easy, Romeo, I know you're not the daddy...or are you?"

I adjusted my clothes, avoiding his gaze because I knew if I stared into his eyes, I would get a much worse look than the one he gave me a few seconds ago.

"Whatever, you gave me something to work with, Historia knows something and didn't tell us...gee, I wonder why"

I leaned my body against the cold stone. My gaze went everywhere, trying to keep avoiding his eyes and incidentally have a stronger support for my figure.

"The Queen doesn’t have to say anything to anyone"

Ohhh, you little shit.

If that's the game you want to play, then you're going to lose.

Even if his words were absolutely right, we shouldn’t forget that, before she was queen, Historia had been our friend during training and the entire year of accumulated trauma between betrayals and deaths. If we could continue to have conversations with her and were invited to participate in political meetings, then we had every right to be informed of the supposed plan that Eren implanted in our queen's mind.

For a moment I was scared by the physical and emotional state of Historia. Was Eren capable of keeping her threatened? Did he say or do anything to keep her quiet? The questions seemed to have no head or tail, but if Eren was able to grab me the way he did, I can't imagine what he could do to keep someone quiet.

"Yes, you are right, in the same way, trust only the queen before your friends... that’s brave"

I searched the corridor and the cell for something I could use to attract his attention again, if it was necessary for me to use violence against him, I would be willing to do it. My eyes met a chain anchored to the wall, quite a long chain, to tell the truth. And on the other side, reaching almost the middle of the corridor, I could make out a rather dirty cloth.

I glanced at Eren who had sat back down on his bed, head down in his hands, and walked down the hall with one goal in mind. I grabbed the cloth and walked back to the cell, standing in front of the bars. I reached out my hand to the sink and started to clean up what was left of the spilled water.

"It's all soaked, incredible that they keep a cell like this"

Without taking my eyes off the sink, I could hear Eren settling on his bed, perhaps sitting upright. I kept running the dirty cloth over the water, honestly I wasn’t achieving much apart from spreading the now dirty water even more, but I had to continue with the facade of an understandable couple.

"It's a complete mess...were Historia's legs like this when you railed her?"

As before, Eren had quickly stood up, ready to grab my hand that was inside the cell, but I was already better prepared. When I felt his fingers touch my wrist, I turned my hand to anchor it on his arm and draw him towards the bars, having that same arm outside the cell. With half body on the cold metal, my other hand grabbed the missing arm and with all my strength I pulled his limbs towards me, causing his body and head to crash against the bars.

"Do you want to do it the hard way? fine, we'll do it the hard way"

Eren tried to shake off my grip, but the adrenaline rushing through my veins prevented him from loosening even a millimeter. I pushed him and pulled him back to me, stretching his arms even further and hitting his head on the metal.

"What's wrong with you?"

Again, a back and forth motion.

"What is going on in your head?"

Back and forth.

"How much shit can you have in your mind that you are not able to tell your friends?"

Back and forth.

"TELL ME FOR FUCK SAKE!!"

With one last impact, I hit Eren's head and heard the fibers and tendons in his shoulders rip, just as his skin began to stretch and break, revealing the flesh and muscle beneath it. Rivers of blood flowed over his arms, dropping to the floor and turning his skin red.

His head was also bleeding to the side, soaking his torso and rebel hair. A pool of blood formed under our feet. I let go of his arms and then grabbed the chain that was on the wall and chained him. Considering the number of times he hab been chained since his fifteen years, I suppose one more time wouldn't do any harm to his already traumatized mind.

When I saw his hands were secure I dropped to the floor, not caring about the blood that now adorned the cold stone floor. I could feel my ass starting to get soggy and sticky from the substance. I would have to burn this pants when I got out of there.

Both my mind and my breath hitched, enveloping the environment. I tried to calm down and clear my mind to continue this hell of interrogation. I knew I shouldn't have agreed, and now look at what situation I was in.

"You know I can transform and use the power of the warhammer titan to get out of here"

Eren seemed withdrawn from his situation, as if bleeding to death didn't matter in the least. Steam came out of his shoulders, a sign that he was in the process of regeneration and prayed that this process would take a long time to materialize.

“I know…” I tried to calm my voice and breath before speaking again “but if you transform now, you would end up killing me, and killing me means betraying the legion, and betraying them means betraying the people of Paradis… you don 't want that, do you? "

My words may sound sly, but inside I was wanting to run out of there, get under the covers of my bed and sleep until the day of doomsday; I was even wishing to die in that sleep.

"I'm going to stay here until I know once and for all what's going on in your head, because I know that whatever shit is in there… it's killing you."

Now we were both looking into each other's eyes, fighting a battle in silence, seeing who would give up first. We held eye contact for a few long minutes, unable to tell how many. Maybe it was a couple, maybe half an hour or even an hour; whatever the time, I was already getting bored.

"If I had known it would take so long, I would have brought something to read"

"What has you so worried that you can't even tell Hange or the heichou?"

My question came reluctantly out of my mouth, as if my ability to fight was fading. I was already very tired and it seemed like days since I entered the dungeons.

"Noone would be able to understand"

"Oh please! Don't take me for a fool. Do you think that none of them are battling their own inner demons? Do you think that only you can have intrusive thoughts to fight against?"

His comment irritated me to the core. I never found Eren such a selfish person, and to think that a year or so ago he was declaring his unconditional affection to all of his comrades.

What happened in the last year? What changed?

"Each one of them has to face their own internal wars every day"

Before my anger got the best of me, I took a few small breaths, calming myself. I wasn't going to put me on the same level of hatred and misunderstanding as him, even if it meant throwing away all the years we were together.

"Historia surely has to fight against the stress and the multiple responsibilities that being a queen entails, apart from fighting against the offensive comments of the military police"

Maybe the island has been rid of Titans for a long time, but that didn’t take away the fact that shitty people, like those who lived on the Wall Sina, decided to try and continue controlling the poor people who were split the loin so those ungrateful would have a feast every night.

"Connie is struggling every day against losing his other half, his twin"

Connie, Jean, everyone ... EVERYONE! We were fighting and suffering the mourning of Sasha, of our teammates.

"Shit, surely Jean is still struggling with the memory of Marco after so many years"

Yes. No one had forgotten Marco, especially Jean. But we had to learn to keep going on that very day, we couldn't afford to get sentimental and spoil the next missions. From that day on we learned to watch over our dead mates in silence.

"I fight every day against my incompetence"

And now was the time that I could begin to veil my demons once and for all.

Already my body was begging to rest. I had laid my head on the wall and fixed my gaze on the ceiling. I heard the chains move at my side, a sign that Eren was moving, but I didn't have the strength to look him in the face.

"I fight every day against the image of Sasha dying in my hands"

I know that memory is going to haunt me until the day I die.

"I fight every day against the memories of our comrades dying in battle"

I saw countless deaths throughout the year 850, so many that I decided to use my knowledge in medicine to help even to stop a bleeding. I still remember the first suture I made to a mate already lost in battle ... I was so excited, so happy to be of such help.

"I fight every day against the idea of ​​not being enough"

But that exaltation led to thousands of failures. People who had bled internally, who had lost an arm and couldn’t get to cauterize, hundreds who had lost half their stomach or head.

"I fight every day against our enemies on the other side of the sea"

I wasn't going to deny it, learning the pure and exclusive truth of the world, I couldn't help but feel a deep hatred for the Marleyans. I wanted them to pay for the countless deaths and suffering they had caused, I wanted to see them burn, but at the same time I wanted a reasonable explanation.

"I fight the memories of the titans devouring our friends"

Memories of the first day in battle, right at our graduation, when we thought that nothing could happen. How naive we were. And to think that that was just the beginning of a long list of events that would bring us to this moment.

"I fight every day along side with the memories of the team escaping from the base and messing it up to enjoy the summer nights"

Memories of when we would sneak into the palace and take Historia with us, enjoying the air in our faces and running in the valleys of the countryside. Memories of when we ran cows for some strange reason at the beginning of the day.

Memories of when we were racing with the 3D movement gear through the great forests outside the city. Memories of the occasional punch in the face against the bark of a tree for not knowing where we were going.

"I fight every day against the image of the big bright turquoise eyes that I fell in love with"

My gaze fell on those same eyes, but instead of finding the description that I wanted to see so much, I only found grayish green eyes, eyes that had lost all their brilliance.

I found eyes full of tiredness and anger for the world. The brilliance that so characterized Eren had been lost; now I would have to settle for a blank stare.

"I fight every day ... against the memory of our return to the rooms and Levi punishing us for weeks"

My voice was breaking as I remembered the nights when only Eren and I would sneak out to spend quality time alone. Those nights where we would lie down to see the stars or to lose ourselves in each other in some meadow.

I look at my hands, they were shaking. I couldn't help but remember the first night we spent together, back then I was shaking too, but Eren's hands on my cheeks dispelled any doubt or fear that I could ever have. I unconsciously smiled at the fond memory and I think Eren did too, as I heard a little laugh coming from him.

But no matter how much smiles and laughter the memories gave me, I had to go on and face the world that was now in front of me.

"I fight every day ... against the idea of ​​running towards you, towards your arms"

Those arms that one day gave me warmth. Those arms that one day hugged and covered me the moment I found out that a mate had died. Those strong arms that I knew were going to protect me from any harm.

"I fight against the hope that this is all a nightmare, that you are going to cradle me in your arms and tell me that everything is going to be fine, that it was just a bad dream"

My gaze returned to his, now filled with tears. It hurt, the cruel truth hurt a lot.

"I fight against the desire to stay by your side"

Eren's face was dark, he had returned to how he was at the beginning, without any trace of that soft laugh I heard a few seconds ago.

"I fight with my inner voice that tells me that everything will be fine, that in a few years it will not hurt as much as it does now"

Maybe ... maybe I can start over and when all this nefarious war is over I can find peace, once and for all, and enjoy my friends.

"I fight to move on"

...

"I fight every day...against you"

That was it.

I stood up heavily, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. The blood on the floor was already dry and had left the entire back of my pants stained. I hadn't noticed that the air had been permeated with the iron smell of blood, making my vomiting reflex worse, even though I had avoided it in a good way all this time.

"If you want to free yourself from this cell, go ahead, I'm not going to stop you"

His figure was already fully regenerated and I knew it was a matter of time before he transformed and left this filthy place. Eren might trust what he was doing was the right thing to do, but if he didn’t accept that in the eyes of the world, that in our eyes, his friends, the only family he had left, couldn’t understand his actions, then there wasn’t much to ask from him.

If he wanted to betray us, let him do it.

“Do what you have to do to fulfill your dream, I don't care anymore. But don't expect for me to sit around and wait for you"

"Are you planning to go to the other side of the sea?"

What a stupid and dubious question at the same time. Was I willing to leave my life in Paradis to start over even in the lands of the enemy?

No, not at all. Why I was no traitor.

"No Eren, I am not going to Marley, my family is here...but you are no longer part of it"

Those words hurt, but they needed to be said; that way I could already start to heal.

"Is that all you have to say?"

I couldn't tell if his words were mocking or a sincere question. But yes, it was all I had to say. I couldn't spend another minute in front of someone I didn't even know anymore.

"It's all I can bear"

I took one last look at the prisoner in the cell before turning and continuing down the long corridor of the dungeons.

"Are you leaving so soon? I thought I heard you would stay as long as it takes for me to speak"

As I reached the door, I took a deep breath of the foul smell of the environment. My hand lay on the doorknob and was half open when his words reached my ears. There was no need to shout from a distance, the echo of the stones made it easy for me to hear the smallest whisper of the perpetrator. I opened the door, but not before dedicating my last words.

"Goodbye Jaeger"

And behind me, I closed the door.

[argylemnwrites]

Sliding In

Pairing: Logan x MC (Ellie Whitnall) - referenced

Book: Ride or Die (~27 years later)

Word Count: ~1200

Rating: PG

Summary: An innocent question prompts some reflection

Author’s Note: Written for @rodappreciationweek Day 1 - Logan. It’s kind of more of a teaser for my upcoming MC piece than anything, but I figured it might be a fun contribution to the Time Capsule Challenge! And yes, this is my same MC from my RODAW Colt x MC pieces from last year. My ROD MC was with Logan until the “it was all planned” reveal, which pushed her to fully embrace her connection/attraction to Colt. This is set about 14 years after the end of those stories as a point of reference.

“Dad, when was the last time you went on a date?”

Logan glanced up from the email he was reading, caught off guard by his daughter’s question. “What?”

“When did you last go on a date?” Lily persisted from across the table, her algebra homework scattered in front of her.

“Why are you asking, Ladybug?”

Lily rolled her eyes at the nickname, one she used to smile widely at when she was little, clinging to Logan’s arm. But now that she was officially a teenager, she was way too mature for it, or so she said. “Just curious. Like, when we’re at Mom and Amy’s, do you go out?”

“Sometimes. Last weekend I went to a Rangers game with some guys from work.”

“That’s not what I meant. Do you go out go out?”

“Don’t you have homework that needs your attention?”

Lily shook her head, adjusting her glasses just slightly. “It’s not due until Thursday. Why won’t you answer my question?”

“Because I’m the dad, and it’s none of your business.”

“Uhh, I’m not little like Landon! It’s not fair for you to blow me off like that!”

“Lily, come on. There is no way you care that much about my social life. So what actually brought on this line of questioning?”

Lily bit her lip and twisted her pencil through her fingers before she asked, “Did you hear that Dani’s parents are getting a divorce?”

Logan resisted the urge to laugh. His daughter was about to try to set him up with her best friend’s mother. This was going to be interesting.

“Yes, your mother told me.”

“Right… well, Dani’s mom is nice, isn’t she?”

“Uh huh,” Logan glanced back at his laptop, pretending to read over the agenda for the meeting tomorrow he had open.

“Dad, stop it! You know what I mean!”

“I do, Lily. But sorry, I don’t do set ups.”

“Ugggh,” she groaned out with a sigh as rolled her shoulders. “Why not?”

“Let’s just say the last time I was set up with someone, it ended pretty badly.”

Lily seemed to accept his answer, though not without a massive sigh and another eye roll, but her topic of conversation stuck with him all night long. Past tucking in Landon and calling out for Lily to get off her phone and go to sleep.

Sitting in bed, he pulled out his own phone. He hadn’t really thought about her in years. And while every so often she would drift across his mind, it had been almost two decades since he last saw her. But even though Kaneko’s instructions to pursue Ellie Whitnall hadn’t exactly been a traditional set up, it was close enough that he was thinking about her now.

He hadn’t kept track of her after they all split up. Not that he hadn’t wanted to. But she needed space, from the whole Mercy Park Crew really, but from him in particular. He’d hurt her, violated her trust, broken what they had. She deserved a wonderful life where she could succeed and thrive without a bunch of wanted criminals holding her back. He’d known if he knew where she was and what she was up to, it would have been too hard to stay away. He would have been behind the wheel in an instant, drawn back to her side.

So back when they’d all gone their separate ways, he’d made the choice to let her be. He resisted the urge to check in, to see where she was, how she was doing. At first, it felt nearly impossible. But as time marched on, the desire to search for her, either digitally or in person, faded into something more manageable. Cold, lonely nights eventually shifted into a new life and existence as he moved from Detroit down to Dallas. He got his GED and got hired on the design team at Toyota. He met Lucy, got married, had two children. His life filled with new joys, ones he never could have dared to dream of. Thoughts of Ellie shifted from a deep pang to a fleeting nostalgic glow. Not for the life he lived back when he knew her, and certainly not for the role he played in the destruction of their relationship, but for the way his first love shaped him. For the hope and compassion she’d introduced to his life, without which, there was no way he would be where he was today.

He wondered, for the first time in quite some time, what she was up to. How she was doing. He hoped she was at least as happy as he was. She deserved that much. Hell, she deserved much more than that. He was divorced, trying to figure out the coparenting thing with his ex and her girlfriend. It had taken him a long time to find steady work. While all of those struggles were manageable, particularly compared to his teenage years, they still weren’t ideal. And if anyone should have an ideal life, it was her.

He wasn’t sure why he did it, why he started to search “Ellie Whitnall” tonight of all nights. He had no idea if she was still in LA or even if Whitnall was still her last name. She could easily be married at this point, although searches for “Ellie Kaneko” didn’t bring up any results. He scrolled through dozens of Ellie Whitnalls on Pictagram, trying not to imagine his daughter screeching out that only “old people” were on Pictagram anymore, glancing at faces, trying to see if any of them looked familiar. But maybe twenty or twenty-five profiles down, he stopped in his tracks.

It was her. She looked so similar. Her hair was a bit shorter, and she didn’t look like a teenager anymore, but he didn’t need the frequent location tags of Los Angeles to know it was her. She looked just like she always had in so many ways. Same thoughtful eyes. Same wide smile. Same little crinkle of her eyebrow when she laughed.

Seeing her again, even just through a screen, was how he always knew it would be. He scrolled through her posts, ravenous to see more of her, to catch any glimpses of her life that he could. She had a daughter, who looked to be a few years older than Lily, with dark brown hair and Ellie’s nose. She seemed to have a close group of friends, as she posted numerous photos of her with the same six women. She didn’t seem to have a partner, though. And there was no ring on her finger.

He had no excuse for what he did next, nothing to blame it on other than seeing her again tripped something inside him. It wasn’t exactly regret or hope or expectation. More a curiosity than anything. After all, he’d always been drawn to her quiet intensity. But for whatever reason, he swiped, pulling up the option to send her a DM.

Hey Troublemaker. It’s been a while

Perma: @mom2000aggie @octobereighth @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14

ROD: @burnsoslow @mskaneko @iplaydrake @louvregirl

Logan x MC: @ridemelikeiamyourdevoregt​

[villainousshakespeare]

Stalking the King Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Henry V/OFC

Multi-Chapter

Historical AU, Historical Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Angst, Sexual Tension, Bathing

Lisabet is a high born Lady of Oleans, France. When King Henry V conquers her city, taking her brother hostage along with other nobles, she vows to be revenged upon the foreign invader and rescue her brother. Dressed in boys clothing she hopes to escape notice in Henry’s camp, but the English King has a much more perceptive eye than she anticipated.

A bit of a plot heavy chapter, but I hope you like it nonetheless!

Lisabeta had seen no more than a glimpse of Henry’s sun kissed locks as he strode away that morning. Not, of course, that she wanted to see the King. She had seen enough of him last night. More than enough, she added, as the image of him in all his naked splendor slipped its way into her mind.

That vexing image seemed to be branded into her brain, so often did she find herself thinking of it when she let her mind drift. His skin, dotted with freckles and crossed with scars that somehow failed to detract from his masculine beauty. The breadth of his shoulders that tapered slowly, over a long distance, to his narrow hips. How could one so unquestionably awful be so unquestionably awe arousing? It was simply not fair!

She had barely slept last night, so active had been her mind. Her body also seemed more alive than usual. There was a curious heat within her, to the point that she wondered if she was feverish. Her skin tingled, and her stomach felt unsettled. Most distracting of all was the odd ache she felt in her womanly organs. She was not due for her courses for weeks, why was she feeling so out of sorts there? She didn’t know, but she was more than willing to blame the English King.

She hated him, more than she had ever hated anyone. He had toyed with her, she knew it! And yet, how could that be when to him she was simply one of his pages. The fact that he had treated her with such disinterest and disregard only meant her disguise was working, for no well born man, even an Englishman, would ever behave so in front of gently bread lady. And yet it maddened her to no end that he had been so with her. She wanted more than ever to find him and run him through with her sword. If she had to wait on him again, no doubt she would do so.

And yet, it was even more insufferable that he did not send for her. Lisabeta was not a woman used to being overlooked, particularly by men. She commanded attention the moment she arrived in a room by virtue of both her looks and her natural spirit. To be forced to sit idly waiting for Henry to call on her was not to be endured.

Around midday of the day following the tent incident she had been sent for, but it was not the King who had called her. She was beginning to wonder what pages were expected to do in a royal camp, and how she was to maintain her anonymity. The night before she had simply found a place on the ground near a fire, using her saddle roll as a pillow and her cloak as a blanket. It was a long night, with only restless sleeping on the hard ground, but she had endured it. In the morning she had snuck between a tent and a wagon towards the tree line and relieved herself, frantic lest someone should see her. It could not go on like this for long, and she knew it.

When summons had come, she assumed it was from the King. After all, who else knew she was there? Instead, she had been brought to a smaller tent not far from where the Royal Standard flew. A desk took up most of the space, somehow both neat and cluttered with papers and ink. Sitting behind it was a thin, balding man who looked less like a soldier that Lisabet herself. She guessed him to be her father’s age, and dark circles ringed his eyes.

“You are Phillipe Cavot, the King’s new page?” the man asked in a voice as tired as his eyes.

“I am, my Lord, what would you have with me?” Lisabeta struggled to make her voice sound more like an anxious page and less like a confident lady.

“King Henry thought I might make use of you,” the man sounded uncertain as he looked her over.

What! The King was handing her off like so much unwanted baggage to one of his underlings? Lisabeta seethed internally. How dare he be so high handed?

“Did he indeed, how generous of him,” she bit off.

“I thought it so, if what he says is true,” the man’s voice was mild and slightly perplexed at her answer. “Your hand, I take it, is decipherable? If so, you will be better than the last. I am Laurence, Henry’s secretary. I have a stack of documents to write, and time is not a friend to me of late. You will assist me here with all my work. I know it is less exciting task to aid a secretary than knight. But here at least some comfort does exist. There is a cot for you to sleep upon, and there behind the screen a chamber pot. Perhaps it is no luxury for you, but when one reaches my age, one will find such niceties are of a great import.”

Lisabeta was at first inclined to be outraged, if only because outrage seemed to be her reaction to all that Henry said or did. To be stuck in this tent with a reedy man with a reedy voice all day was not the reason why she had come here. On the other hand, it did neatly solve both of her core problems. It was as if providence had given her a way to stay until she figured out the next step in her plan.

In addition to all of this, it occurred to Lisabeta that this could be just the place she needed to be. If this man was King Henry’s secretary, then the documents scattered about his desk took on an entirely new interest to her. It was possible that hidden among the mounds of papers that looked to be mostly correspondences could be maps, perhaps even battle plans, detailing the English forces’ intentions. If she could put her hands on those documents, it could be a turning point in this war.

In her mind, Lisabeta pushed away the picture of Henry mercilessly and in its place forced in what must be seen as a happier view. She would wait until the secretary had left, of perhaps gone to sleep as it looked like he must soon do. Once he was out of the way, she would find the betraying documents, copy them down, and slip from the camp. How easy would it be then to send them via courier, or maybe even bring them herself, to the French King and his constable in Paris? Lisabeta could singlehandedly win this wretched war for France!

It was a plan, and she would see it done. She need never cross paths with the arrogant King Henry again. Let him preen around his camp in the mud for another day or two, she would not be there to wash it from his body. And all the better for that, she insisted to herself, even as she fought back regret.

***

“Your Majesty, what brings you to our tents?” Sir Stephen Boyd asked, beginning to drop to one knee in the mud before Henry waved away the need.

“My restless legs that needed room to stretched,” Henry laughed good naturedly. “How goes it with our enforced visitors?”

“Well, my Lord, when all is said and done. One little lad no more than three years old did give us all some trouble at the start.”

“Precocious lad! How did he manage that?”

“With screaming morn and night, to wake the dead. I tell you Sire, I’ve seen my share of war. I’ve fought in wars whose blood would fill a lake, and thought my life was ended more than once. But never have I known a greater fear than when the cub did last drift off to sleep and any noise did threaten our brief peace.”

Henry could not but laugh at the thought of the bluff old knight fearing a lad of three. The very sight of him proclaimed the battles he spoke of. Still, there lived inside the blustery warrior a soft heart. Henry remembered being found out by Sir Stephen after his first taste of battle. An overwhelmed squire, Henry had been horrified by the carnage he had witnessed. Ashamed of himself, he had hidden behind a wagon to empty his stomach before crouching down trembling from the shock, terrified lest someone should see him so unmanned.

But when Sir Stephen had discovered him, the older knight had not mocked or scolded him. Instead, he had hunched down next to him and handed over a flask of water for Henry to rinse his mouth. After Henry had stopped shaking, Sir Stephen had spoken to him in a matter of fact voice, telling him that all men of intellect were shaken by the reality of war. It was only the dull or the cruel who escaped unscathed. Any man worth following would react as Henry had, he opined, and he was proud that his future lord was such a one. With a nod, he had risen and walked away, leaving behind the water and a more thoughtful Henry.

It was because of this innate compassion that Henry had chosen him to have custody of the hostages. Other, higher ranked men had chafed, wanting the potentially lucrative position where they could extort money from anxiety ridden parents. Henry had thwarted them all, placing in stead an honorable man who would do his best to keep the young hostages safe and well looked after.

“A mighty terror indeed, how solved you it?” he asked now with a shudder.

“I handed off the boy to Mistress Mead,” Sir Stephen replied, face reddening. “She’s wife to Seargent Mead, a doughty man, and raised a brood of children of her own. I know your Grace did put him in my charge, but at his age he needs a woman’s care. I hope you know I meant no harm by it. I’d trust the goodwife my very life.”

“As I trust you with mine, my blustery friend,” Henry assured him. “I should have thought to do so from the start. I thank you, Sir, for seeing to it now.”

They stood in companionable silence for a while, watching a pair of lads in oversized helmets batter at each other. Henry wasn’t entirely sure why he had come here. He had been at his desk going over the papers his secretary had left for him, but his mind was not really focused. He needed to walk, to exercise. To get away from his tent where his eyes and mind kept drifting over to the large tub where the Gascoigne lass had bathed him two nights before. He had not been able to stop thinking of her since.

It was only because he had been celibate, he assured himself. That was the reason why he had responded so strongly to the chit. She was completely lacking skill in her ministrations. Her touch had been hesitant, shy, barely skimming over his skin. And yet, that had changed as she proceeded. She had grown bolder, pulling slightly on his hair, rubbing his aching shoulders and back. He had been loud in his appreciation, moaning as he felt the tension and stiffness melt out of him.

Well, it had melted out of his upper body, his lower body had been an entirely different story. As her hands drifted lower, his erection had become painful in its insistence. She was just inches away, all it would take was a small dip down for her soft hand to be wrapped around his length. He had wanted it with an intensity that left him throbbing. If he had not sent her away at that point, he would have dragged her into the tub with him.

It was a thought that kept occurring to him through the night and all the next day.

He thought he had hit on the perfect solution by handing her off to Laurence. The man could use an extra hand, and he could only imagine the girl’s education had included penmanship. He could not have her running about his camp, just waiting for someone to realize she was a woman, for god’s sake. She was a scandal just waiting to happen, in no small part because she seemed incapable of staying unobtrusive.

Laurance, on the other hand, could be trusted implicitly with her. The man was discreet to a fault, as one who preferences were as his had to be in their society. As Henry suspected, he had sussed out her true nature the first day, but rather than confront her with it had quietly brought it to his King’s attention. When Henry indicated that he knew her identity, but wished to do nothing for present, his secretary had sighed but nodded, mumbling that at least she had a passable hand a quick mind, if an even quicker tongue. She would be safe with him until he decided how to proceed.

He just needed to find out more about her, which brought him to his current location.

“Tell me, Sir, how does the young Gascoigne?” he asked, attempting nonchalance.

“Little Phillipe? He does right well, my Lord,” Stephen answered, slight curiosity in his voice. “That be him over there, the one in blue. He’ll make a proper Knight if ‘ere he grows. A bit to clever, like to one I know. But taking to account his lineage and vast side of the force he’ll one day lead, that is no bad thing, as I think you know.”

Henry watched the boy as he traded blows with another a head taller than him. He saw what Sir Stephen alluded to. The larger boy clearly had strength and reach on his side, but Phillipe easily side stepped the attacks launched on him. He had an excellent eye for what his opponent was about to do next. If only he had a better control of his own weapon. Acting on instinct, Henry strode forward, grabbing a practice sword from the wrack as he did.

“Your grip is wrong, if I may intercede?”

He didn’t raise his voice, he seldom did, but the two boys drew back, instantly lowering their blades. Phillipe dropped to one knee, and after a slight pause the other boy did the same, removing their borrowed helms.

“Rise up, Phillipe, I’ll show you how it’s done,” he offered, along with his hand to help the boy to rise.

He was a handsome lad, Henry observed. Very much the boyish version of his sister. Henry was continually amused at how everyone else took her for a boy. Her hips were obviously those of a woman, and the combination of padding and binding did not completely hide her other curves. On top of that, the planes of her face were more feminine, if older and sharper than the boy before him.

He spent the next hour happily helping Phillipe improve his grip. The boy had stamina, and after the first few moments lost his stiffness with the King. Henry enjoyed physical activity of all sorts and had been unhappy with the idleness. The lesson was just what he had needed to restore his good humor.

“Well done, my lad, I think you have the trick,” he said at last, setting aside his sword and ruffling the boy’s hair.

“I thank you, Sire, for sparing me your time,” Phillipe said shyly, panting a bit. “I father doth despair of my poor skill. Why even my own sister Lisabet can best me when it cometh to the blade.”

“Ah, Lisabet! That is your sister’s name!” Henry said, remembering now that he had heard the lovely moniker before.

“Why yes, my Lord, but know you Lisabet?”

Henry cursed silently, damning his tongue for saying the name out loud. A lovely name, he thought, although perhaps too soft for the sassy brat who had infiltrated his camp.

“By reputation only, to my woe,” he said with an easy smile to, “I hear she is the jewel of all of France.”

“So all do say, though I do see it not,” the boy made a face all brothers of sisters would recognize before continuing to ramble. “A willful fury, with a biting tongue is more the face that she does show to me. But those who know the fashion of the world have dubbed her oft an incomparable. My parents seek to make for her a match with every single gentleman of name.”

“And is there any one she most prefers?” Henry asked, irritated at the idea that the innocent vixen in his tent last night might be promised to another.

“No, not when last I spoke to her, my Lord. Papa would wed her to Lord Constable, I heard him say the match was all but made. But Lisabet just curled her lip at that. I think she fancies more to be a queen, or empress who could manage one and all. She certainly does like to get her way. But do not, please, mistake me good my Lord. Though she can be a right pain in my side, she is at heart a loving sister still. She wept when I did leave to be our pledge.”

“Belike she thought I meant to use you ill. I hope, Phillip, that has not been the case?”

“Why no, my Lord, though I should say it not, the days that I have spent here in your camp seem almost as a holiday to me!”

“Then I am glad to give you such a treat. You must inform your sister of the truth.

“I will when I am back at home with her. She will just roll her eyes and scoff at me and tell me that I do betray our house. She would have had us fight till all were dead, or ere she ever flew the flag of truce.” 

“She sounds a truly formidable foe. How glad I am I had to fight her naught.”

 “As you should be, she wields a blade with skill!”

“Gascoigne, will you talk the good king mad? Come over here and help to clean the blades!”

Chastised by the should from Sir Stephen, the boy ducked his head and bowed to Henry before running over to assist in the work. Henry smiled in reply, but him mind was elsewhere. So, his fiery, would be page was set to marry the Constable of France? And, moreover, she was a fierce opponent of the peace with England. That would not bode well for Henry or for Fance. He hoped to settle the matter of his sovereignty, and the good Constable was a stumbling block in his way. If the man were wed to a woman of passion who stood against Henry’s claim, he would be only more likely to dig in and voice his dissent. No, Henry did not think he could allow such a union to take place.

It had nothing at all, of course, to do with his own attraction to the woman.

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston​ @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @justthehiddleswrites @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza​

[enchantedblackrose]

All the Pieces Pt 2

Sirius Black/Fem Reader

Warnings: light swearing, kinda long, unedited. I broke canon and will probably continue to do so in other parts now?

Part 1|| Part 3|| Part 4|| Part 5

Part 2 of ?

No more secrets from you I would lose to love you And I have never felt so Like a man that's been set free I can spread my arms now - Pieces, Dan Powell

Your questions wait longer still as you watch Sirius step hesitantly into your living room. It's not completely conscious, but you can't stop looking at him. He's so skinny and looks defeated, but then that fresh morning sunlight dances across his face. For a second you see glimpses of the boy you knew years ago.

Sirius clears his throat. The sudden noise startles you and you nearly jump.

"Shower!" You yell, though you're not sure why it comes out as a shouted demand.

"'m sorry, what?"

"I mean, you must want a hot shower?" 

Disbelief creeps onto his face. "I would love a hot shower so don't take this wrong, but you must have a hundred questions for me?"

"A thousand actually," you smile, "but they can wait."

Your compassion causes a warmth to fill Sirius that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your presence. He nods his gratitude, not trusting himself to speak. 

You direct him to the top of the stairs and inform him of the fresh towels in the linen closet and the second bedroom he may use. Before he closes the bathroom door, you tell him you'll see if you can scrounge up any other clothes for him.

"And then if you want," you say, "we can set those damned robes on fire." Sirius laughs as you walk away.

Never being one able to throw anything away, you know for certain you have some old clothing belonging to Sirius. Not trusting the old rickety steps of the pull down ladder, you apparate to the attic. 

"Lumos." The tip of your wand illuminates enough of the storage space that you easily find the light fixture and gently pull on the chain. You put out your wand.

Immediately you spot the desired trunk and the sight of it causes you to draw a sharp breath. Your habit of saving everything while at times like this is beneficial, it often brings you some pain. You sit in front of the trunk, opening it slowly.

Photos and a small midnight blue velvet jewelry box sit on the very top. You pick them up and hesitate before setting them aside. 

Next you pull out a large leather jacket, followed by men's pants, several shirts, including tees with the face of David Bowie, another with the Stones, and even one with ABBA. You throw your head back in laughter; you really do keep anything and everything, but this is why. Even these mundane items hold precious memories.

You set the clothes beside you and thumb through the photos: Sirius kissing you on the cheek, Sirius kissing James on the cheek, you and a very pregnant Lily at her baby shower, you and Remus laughing with a pink haired, confused Sirius in the background, Peter attempting to rollerblade, Sirius in his dog form, the marauders near the Whomping Willow at school, you and Sirius slow dancing at James and Lily's wedding. You sigh before gently placing them back in the trunk. You pick up the little box, the delicate fabric still plush and smooth in your hand. But you decide to return it to the trunk without opening  it. 

Sirius should be getting out of the shower soon and you want the clothes ready for him when he is. You turn off the light before disapparating to the guest bedroom. The clothes were well preserved and a few incantations later they are freshly laundered. You leave them at the end of the bed.

You retreat to the kitchen to prepare brunch. The food is mostly done when from above you hear the water stop, squeaks of doors opening and shutting, the creaking of floorboards and then Sirius barking a hearty laugh. You smile to yourself.

"You always were a pack rat," he says, appearing after a minute. You see he opted not to wear any of the muggle musician shirts, but instead he's in a solid black t-shirt and dark jeans. Both hang loosely on his thin frame. You say nothing about his playful quip, mostly because it's true. You indicate for him to sit in one of the wooden kitchen chairs. "That said where's your engagement ring?"

Your heart sinks as you think to that blue box upstairs.

"Sirius," you warn, your voice low.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. Though you not wearing it was the second thing I noticed about you." He offers a smile, but you don't relent, refusing to dive into this conversation when there's still so many answers he owes. Seeing your hardened expression, he holds his hands up signaling he still means no offense.

You sigh. "What was the first thing?"

His grin widens into a full smile. "Your eyes of course. They're just as I remember. Beautiful,  full of goodness and emotions. I could always tell what you were feeling."

Despite yourself, you feel heat rise to your cheeks, blushing over Sirius Black's words like you were still a schoolgirl. It's mortifying to adult you and you take a large sip of orange juice to avoid eye contact.

Sirius smirks slightly, but begins to eat. The array of food mimics a small buffet: chocolate chip muffins, pancakes, bacon, toast, oatmeal and scrambled eggs. A glass pitcher with orange juice sits beside jams and butter.

Sirius takes more than a bit of everything. A mostly comfortable silence falls over the table as two of you eat. Even when you have finished, you refuse to bombard Sirius with questions, allowing him to enjoy the meal.

Finally, getting his fill, he peers at you across the table. It's finally time for you to learn the truth.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything," you reply without missing a beat. And so Sirius starts with Peter's betrayal ("literal filthy rat! How could he?" you cry) and ends with knocking at your door.

Your eyebrows furrow. Sirius told you his story and you're still left with questions.

"What's on your mind?" He asks knowingly.

"How did you know where I was? Remus stays here once in a while, did you know that? What's Harry like? Merlin, Peter escaped? He's out there free and you're...do you think he knows where You Know Who is?" You rapid fire questions without thought or pause, but Sirius chuckles.

"I can only answer one at a time, darling. Slow down. Breathe, maybe. I'll answer them all." He shifts in his chair, leaning back slightly. "Dumbledore came to that tower where I was held and told me, in his way, that I may have a friend here. That he would send an owl to that friend explaining my innocence. Remus and I had little chance to chat dealing with that treacherous rat, and Snape," he sneers "and the full moon, of course. But I am glad to know you and Remus maintained your friendship," he pauses as if wanting to say more, but thinks better of it. 

Both a sad and happy smile plays on his lips as he answers your next question. "Harry is a carbon copy of James, with the same knack for trouble, though he has Lily's eyes. I'm hoping he has her common sense, too. He's got a good head on his shoulders and the right sorts of friends surround him." Sirius's expression goes dark. "Peter will go wherever he thinks he'll be protected. Voldemort is out there, and I'm willing to bet Peter will do anything to get to him."

Another silence falls over the two of you and you shudder at the prospect of Voldemort returning.

"I'm sorry if I asked too many questions," you finally say after a long moment.

"You didn't."

"You're welcome to stay here. For as long as you need."

"I'd like to. I'm not sure how long, but a couple nights at least if it's no trouble."

"It's no trouble. Er, does your hippogriff need anything?"

"Buckbeak? Nah. There's plenty for him to hunt and he's free to roam a bit, right? I'll introduce you two later."

You laugh. "I'll show you to your room. You must be exhausted."

He catches your wrist before you walk away. His touch makes you feel as though you're on fire. You ignore the sensation and look Sirius in the eye as he speaks. "Thank you. Your kindness is truly unmatched, y/n. Always has been." You don't know how to respond. As if on cue, he yawns and then frowns. "I haven't asked anything about you."

"There will be time for that later. C'mon." You smile reassuringly but mentally you're thankful to prolong any more heavy conversations.

Sirius follows you up the stairs into the bedroom. Your eyes scan the room and you frown. The pale green wallpaper accented with tiny pink rosebuds and the bed donned with oversized blankets and half a dozen throw pillows is a stark contrast to Sirius. You mumble something about not being able to redecorate this room just yet. But Sirius just smiles. You draw the curtains shut in an attempt to block the midday sunlight.

"I think you should have everything you need? Of course help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I'll head to town to get some things."

His face is solemn. "Y/n, stay with me?" He clears his throat. "I mean...will you. Please?"

Wordlessly you nod. You let him climb into the queen sized bed first. Once he's settled, you get in, laying next to him. He moves you closer. Your head rests on his shoulder. He breathes in your scent as his arms wrap loosely around you. You drape an arm across his chest, assuring him his touch is welcomed. His grip tightens slightly as his breathing slows. You watch the rising and fall of his chest until your eyelids flutter shut.

Light tapping on your front door pulls you out of your dreams. Confusion hits first as you're heavy with the weight of a man's arms around you. Sirius. You smile as you become more awake, remembering the moments just hours ago. The knocking grows louder. Urgent, even. Panic sets in.

You shake Sirius awake. He bolts upright in bed, his breathing labored. You place a hand on his chest to calm him. For the moment at least. "Someone's at the door." You tell him in a harsh whisper . Sirius's eyes widen. "Transform," you urge. "And for Merlin's sake stay here." He wants to argue, but knows you're right. You wait until he becomes a large black furry mass of a dog. You close the bedroom door behind you, earning a low whine from Sirius in the process. You hurry down the stairs, clutching your wand in your dominant hand. Fear courses through your veins. You feel your heartbeat quicken with each step.

Drawing a deep breath, you swing the front door open.  The sight nearly stops your heart.

"Finally y/n. Is he here?"

Taglist: @oingo233

[aaronhotchnersquarterzip]

Meeting You Flipped the World Upside Down - Or Maybe Just Mine

This is it guys, I’m really proud in general of myself for finishing this and I hope you all enjoyed it as well. When I started this fic I honestly planned for a major character death or something dramatic like that. Never in my wildest dreams did I see this ending. I’m not mad though, I’ve had a rough time lately and this really summed up a lot of my feelings. There are people who will never truly leave your life and that's okay. You just shouldn’t let the thought of them hold you back. This has been my favorite thing to write ever and I want to thank everyone who has supported this and made me feel so good about my writing. I did leave this open ended if I ever did want to continue it but I think I want to write something a bit lighter next. I really hope you all enjoyed this as much as I have and remember to stay safe and drink some water today - Mya

Summary: Reader has been a rut, stuck in a never ending cycle of college worries and job interviews. Never did she think that SSA Aaron Hotchner, or Agent as she likes to call him, would walk into her favorite late night diner and flip her world upside down. And he for sure didn’t expect to fall in love so quickly with the soon to be college grad. They navigate finding love and working together to rediscover what that means for each of them.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner X Female Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Epilogue

Aaron Hotchner did flip your world upside down. Maybe just not in the way you expected. But in the way you needed. You watched your children chase their father around the backyard. It was nearly below freezing but they were going strong. You made hot chocolate for their impending arrival inside. In the meantime you curled up on the couch with a warm blanket and watched the fire burn. The Christmas tree was lit nicely in the corner of the living room, an abundance of presents spilling out. 

You pulled out your phone and scrolled through some old pictures. Baby pictures of your three children. Your wedding, it was a fall wedding. More than you could have ever dreamed of. You also looked at your college graduation pictures. Emily, JJ, and Penelope had surprised you and showed up to commencement. Screaming when you walked across the stage. You should call them soon. Finally, you found the picture you were looking for, you and Aaron at one of Dave’s dinners. It was a candid that Morgan took when you weren’t paying attention. Aaron has his arm around you while you’re talking to JJ about god knows what. It’s your favorite picture, beyond a shadow of a doubt. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room, you chose to remember nights that those. He changed you for the better, it was only fair you acknowledged that. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when your husband and kids ran inside from the cold. 

“There’s hot chocolate on the stove waiting for you monsters!” You yelled to them as they rushed to change into warmer clothes. 

When they had all settled and had their mugs of hot chocolate, your husband joined you on the couch. Soon followed by your children, two girls and one boy. They quickly turned on a pixar movie and snuggled up to you underneath several blankets. There was nothing you would change about your life. This was exactly where you were meant to be. 

By the time the credits rolled to Monsters University all three of them had fallen asleep. You carefully tucked in your youngest daughter, Greer. She was about to turn 2 in the spring. Your surprise baby. You couldn’t have been happier when you found out. Sure the stress of raising three kids got to you sometimes but they reminded you of all the good in the world. 

Next was Cheyenne, named after where you met your husband, Noah. You were travelling around the west and made a pit stop in Cheyenne and met the man you were meant to spend forever with. You couldn’t think of a better name for your first daughter, Noah couldn’t have agreed more. She embodied everything good about your husband, his compassion for sure. She was smarter than you by a long shot at just 8 years old. 

Finally you came to your oldests room. He had been a welcome surprise just a few months after your wedding. Your not so little boy mirrored you in a way you never thought possible. It scared you at first, everything about being a parent is scary sure, but nobody prepares you for raising your twin. He had your hair and eyes, Noah’s nose, but everything about him was you. His ambition never failed to wow you, he pushed himself to lengths you truly couldn’t believe sometimes. He however, did inherit some of your bad genes though. Sometimes he didn’t know when to stop, when to slow down and enjoy the present. You got better at that with age, you want him to achieve everything he puts his mind to but you need him to see when it’s happening. Not when it’s happened. 

You reached down and pushed some of his hair from his face so you could kiss his forehead. 

“Goodnight my sweet boy,” you whispered and he snuggled further into his blankets. You smiled softly and walked out quietly. He was already 12, sometimes you couldn't believe that you made it this far. You grew as you moved farther away, you knew that your life belonged out here. Sometimes it’s hard to trust fate but how could you justify meeting Noah and creating your dream life in your new favorite spot in America without believing at least a little bit in fate. 

You softly closed your little boy's door and ran your hand over the nameplate crested in the center of the door, Aaron, written in hues of blue. 

As you cuddled with your husband while he slowly fell asleep, you reached for your phone and scrolled through an album made just for you and Aaron. Noah may be your future, but Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner was the love of your life and you forever had a part of him. 

You pulled up his contact for the first time in 18 years and sent him the photo from that dinner at Dave’s a lifetime ago. You wrote a short message, 

I forgive you Agent - Y/N

The last thing you expected was a response, especially so quickly. It was a picture that you had posted on social media a few weeks prior, celebrating your 13th wedding anniversary. 

I’m happy you found better. What are their names? - Agent

My youngest is Greer, then Cheyenne. - Y/N

You wait a few minutes to respond, you know he read the message prior.

He’s named after the love of my life Aaron - Y/N

He called you then. You moved quickly and quietly from your bed and down into your living room. Answering before the line went dead. 

“You were the love of my life too Y/N. I just didn’t know it.”

There you sat, where just hours ago you were wrapped in blankets with your family, you were now transported to your life with Aaron. Staring into the fire with tears in your eyes. 

“It wouldn’t have mattered, Aaron, sometimes finding the love of your life doesn't mean spending the rest of your life with them. It means loving them for the rest of your life, even if that means watching them love someone else.” 

You could hear him sigh on the other end of the line, “I never stopped loving you. I won’t ever stop loving you Y/N.” 

“I will always love you too Aaron. I think I’m happier now than I ever was with you though. JJ told me you got remarried Agent. Congratulations. I’m sure she's perfect for you.”

“Yeah, pretty much. Her name is Beth, Jack loves her too.”

“I miss him. I’m happy he has someone again. You deserve to be happy Aaron. I forgave you days after. Hell hours even. But I knew that we both needed someone who understood us better. We both deserved that.” 

Just then you heard a door creak and the sound of feet pattering towards you, “mama,” Aaron’s voice squeaked out. 

“Right here, baby. What's wrong?”

“I heard you talking and wanted to talk with you too.” You laughed a little before putting your phone on speaker and introducing your son to Aaron. 

“Well alright, but I think you might need to know his name before you talk to him.” Aaron caught your drift, introducing himself through the phone. 

“Hi Aaron, I’ve heard all about you. My name is Aaron too and there is nothing I want more than to talk to you.”

Your little boy perked up at the idea that this man had the same name as him, Aaron was a good sport and talked to him for about 20 minutes before your boy was yawning between every word. 

“Say goodnight to Aaron buddy,” he murmured out a small goodnight and was helped back into bed. 

“He reminds me of you, I’m sure you know that already.”

“Everyone calls him my clone. Maybe it’s wishful thinking but sometimes I look into his eyes and swear I see you looking back at me Aaron. He’s how I imagined our children would turn out. Perfect in every single way.”

“Your husband is very lucky to have you Y/N. I’ll envy him until the end of time.”

You sensed this was the end of the conversation, you subconsciously wanted to never stop talking to him. That part of you that would always yearn for his comfort when you were breaking down in the bathroom or when you were so over the moon about something at work. You wanted to share those moments with him first. I guess some part of you always would. 

“I love you Aaron.”

“I love you too Y/N, goodnight”

“Goodnight Agent.”

[drarrymybeloved]

a gift for @isamijoo​ as part of the Wheel of Drarry Mini Exchange🥰💞thank you to @curlyy-hair-dont-care​ for the beta!

wc: 1.7k | rating: G

Not All Heroes Wear Capes, But Mine Sure Does

Draco Malfoy, Editor in Chief of Witch Weekly Magazine, eyes his watch and then the stack of paperwork on his desk. He knows he should stay and get through at least half the pile before lunch, but there is also a photoshoot going on in Studio B right this very second that he wouldn’t mind overseeing. Only because the photoshoot is such an important project for the magazine. Not because of the presence of a certain someone at said photoshoot, not at all.

I’m the Editor in Chief of the damn magazine and I can go wherever I like, he decides. He nods his head as if confirming his own thoughts and exits his office to head towards the studio.

Draco had begun working at the offices of Witch Weekly soon after he finished his community service sentence. Starting as a lowly clerk, his ability to charm and enamour as needed, had him slowly but surely climbing the ranks.

Now, at twenty-five, Draco is the youngest Editor in Chief in the history of Witch Weekly. Soon after his promotion, he had recruited Pansy as a columnist and Blaise as a photographer, both of whom are involved in today’s shoot.

And what a shoot it is, Draco thinks with more than a little satisfaction. Featuring the Golden Trio, the rest of the Weasley clan minus Percy who was “just too busy to make it”, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, the Patil twins, and Lavender Brown, it’s going to be printed as a special edition with all proceeds going to the War Orphan’s Trust. Incidentally, it’s also one of the most— if not the most— star-studded spread in the magazine’s history. Blaise will photograph all the volunteers in various costumes and get-ups, while Pansy will interview them on the side.

When the idea was first proposed, Draco had been sceptical. While the others were less recalcitrant, Potter was well-known for his dislike of modelling of any kind. He hated being in front of a camera, and everybody in the press corps knew it. Without Potter, the venture wouldn’t necessarily fail, but it would definitely not generate as much profit. Draco had meant to ask formally, perhaps through an official letter bearing the magazine’s seal. Instead, he found himself asking Potter at the weekly inter-house pub night, a tradition started in eighth year that— inexplicably— continued well past Hogwarts. Surprisingly, Potter had agreed with minimal fuss. He wasn’t happy about it, but he had agreed nonetheless.

Reaching the studio door, Draco takes a moment to brush non-existent dirt off his suit jacket and straighten his already straight tie, before pushing open the door. There are a fair amount of people milling around, talking and laughing. He can see Weasley, Finnegan and Thomas near the refreshments table. Charlie Weasley is talking animatedly with Luna while Longbottom listens with a bemused expression. Ginerva and George are slowly turning singular strands of Hermione’s hair purple as she talks passionately with Lavender. The Patil twins are having their makeup done, and Bill Weasley is being interviewed by Pansy.

Draco takes all this in with a cursory glance, his attention instantly drawn towards the man currently posing for the camera, like a compass finding true north.

Harry Potter stands in front of the camera, wearing a gladiator’s skirt cinched with a belt adorned with a golden lion, a red cape adorning his broad shoulders. A sheathed sword hangs at his waist. On his feet are black leather sandals, the straps of which rope around his muscular calves. Without his trademark glasses, his eyes look impossibly brighter. His bronze skin practically gleams under the lights. Presumably, someone had applied oil on him at some point. Draco hastily pushes away all thoughts of hands and oil and Potter out of his mind. Potter’s hair looks artfully tousled instead of its usual mess— a near-miraculous feat if you ask Draco. He makes a mental note to jot down the name of the hair stylist for future photoshoots. The thought is there and then gone because just then, Potter draws the sword hanging at his waist, and Merlin and Morgana, Draco was not prepared to see Harry bloody Potter looking like a hero out of a Greek legend.

Draco lets out an involuntary whimper.

“Hello, Draco.”

Draco quickly snaps his gaze away from Potter to find Hermione looking at him with an amused expression. The purple streaks are gone from her hair— she’d probably known what Ginerva and George were up to the whole time. Meanwhile, Draco had been so busy ogling Potter, he hadn’t even seen Hermione approach him. He flushes faintly and attempts to sound like the Editor in Chief of a major publication rather than what he actually feels like— a schoolboy with a pash. “Hello, Hermione. I hope everything is going smoothly?”

Hermione grins. “Yes, it’s all been rather fun actually. Reminds me a bit of Sunday lunch at the Burrow, what with so many people around.”

“Good, that’s good to hear,” Draco says distractedly, attention already straying back to Potter.

“Harry’s looking rather good, isn’t he?” Hermione asks nonchalantly, following Draco’s gaze.

“What? Oh, yes, yes of course. Now that you mention it, he is. That is, I mean, the stylists did a brilliant job. Especially with his hair, it usually looks like a bird's nest,” Draco lets out a strained chuckle, his cheeks burning. He never should have come down here. Merlin.

Hermione presses her lips together, her eyes bright with amusement. “You should tell him that yourself, he’ll like it,” she gestures behind Draco.

Draco turns, and sure enough, Potter’s coming off the set towards them. He doesn’t even stop to change into regular clothes, for fucks sake. How is one supposed to hold a conversation with him looking like that?

“I’ll leave you two to it then, got some catching up to do with Parvati,” Hermione says, grinning wickedly. Before Draco can say another word, she’s already gone.

Cursing internally, he turns to face Potter, determined to keep his attention on Potter’s face and his face only. Not that that’s not distracting enough. Pushing the unhelpful thought away, Draco opens his mouth to greet Potter. What comes out is, “That’s quite a get-up you’ve got going on.”

Oh joy, already off to an excellent start. Draco cringes internally but forces himself to smile in what he hopes is a pleasant manner.

Potter laughs sheepishly. “Yeah, I do feel pretty ridiculous in all this. They’ve even strapped a bloody sword on me. I barely know how to handle it.”

“Looked like you were doing alright, actually,” Draco says before his mind can catch up with his mouth.

“Oh, er, thanks Draco,” Potter smiles bashfully, bringing his hand up to ruffle his hair. Draco’s eyes helplessly follow the flex of his bicep.

Snapping back to attention, he grasps for something other than Potter’s sword-wielding skills to talk about.

"I have to say though, I was quite surprised when you agreed to this. It's no secret you dislike photoshoots immensely," is what he lands on. It’s something he’s been wondering about and he wouldn’t mind knowing what made Potter agree to do this.

“Yeah, I don’t much like being treated as if I’m some celebrity and I’ve never been good in front of a camera. I would have said no but well…” he trails off, looking at Draco intently. “You’re the one who asked, so,” Potter shrugs as if that clears everything up.

Draco blinks. In a dazzling display of eloquence, he says, "What?"

Potter flushes, but he looks determined. "I agreed to do this because I know this photoshoot is important to you. Not just this shoot, the magazine as a whole. I know that you’ve worked hard to make it into something much more than just another gossip rag. So, um, you know, I did it for you,” he rubs the back of his neck, his face flushed crimson. “It also helps that it’s for charity,” he adds, chuckling awkwardly.

Draco gapes. “But...why?” he manages, bewildered.

“Draco,” Potter huffs. “Because I care about you. As in, I have feelings for you. I thought you would have guessed by now, it’s not like I’m great at subtlety. Pretty much everyone else knows,” he smiles nervously.

 Oh. Oh.  

“You have feelings for— wait, everyone knows?” Draco demands. “And no one thought to tell me?” He hates his friends, really truly despises them all.

Potter’s eyes crinkle with the force of his smile. “Wait so, what are you saying?”

Draco rolls his eyes, attempting to sound cool and collected even though he feels practically giddy. “I’m saying, Potter, that I have had “feelings for you” as you put it, for an embarrassingly long time. And everyone knows,” he says, cheeks pinking. “Well, everyone except you, apparently,” he amends.

Potter laughs delightedly. “To be fair, you didn’t catch on to my feelings for you either.”

“We’re rather ridiculous, aren’t we?” Draco says, laughing ruefully.

“Well, we’re both in the know now, so how about we go for a celebratory dinner?” Potter asks, eyes bright.

“Good idea,” Draco says, attempting— and failing— to keep a straight face.

“Potter!” Pansy’s voice cuts across the room.

“Time for your interview it seems,” Draco says.

“Yeah, although I do have some questions for her myself,” Potter says, squinting at Pansy.

“Oh, I will absolutely be having words with her. And Hermione,” Draco huffs.

Potter smiles at him, and it’s such a wide, unrestrained thing, Draco’s heart misses a beat. “I’ll see you after, then?” he asks.

Draco nods, smile softening. “Pick me up at seven, you already know the address.”

Potter flashes him one last smile before walking towards Pansy’s corner.

Draco watches him go with what is most definitely a besotted smile on his face before turning around to leave. His steps falter when he sees all of their friends staring at him, expressions torn between unbridled glee and despair. He frowns— until he catches sight of Ron glumly handing over a handful of Galleons to a triumphant George.

“You absolute pillocks, did you place bets on Harry and me?” he asks in disbelief.

“It’s a lucrative business,” George winks.

“Sorry Draco,” Lavender says, not looking sorry at all as she pockets the coins Padma grudgingly hands her.

“I hate you all,” Draco informs them cheerfully as he heads towards the hallway, professionalism be damned. He hears them laughing as he steps into the hallway, but he’s too elated to be properly pissed off at their machinations. He’ll get back at all of them soon enough, but for now he has a stack of paperwork to finish— he can’t be late for his date after all.

read on ao3

[alextwdgf01]

The Restoration Of Eroded Soils: You're Homeless?

Chapter 4

During the following week after Stan called upon his old friend for help, he and his brother had set about cleaning the house, both in preparation for her arrival and their health. Stanford had been surprised when he first told him about Arthuria, how she could help out with their situation off the books. How he'd found someone like that was beyond his knowledge.

He had been a bit skeptical about having someone he knew nothing about assisting him. (Especially since he believes Arthur is a guy, lol) Stan's friend could just as easily betray their trust and turn Ford over to the government. Or worse, could be working for Bill.

But Stan had reassured him that she was trustworthy, that he'd known her a long while. Though still weary, Ford relented. The nerd couldn't be too picky about someone willing to help.

Now, they were currently clearing out a room for Arthuria to stay in when she arrived. Ford had cleaned the bed sheets, replacing them on the king sized mattress while Stan dusted off the dresser and bedside table. They were silent for sometime during their work, before the six fingered scientist curiously asked about his brother's friend.

"So, um...when did you meet this, Arthur was it?"

Stan shrugged. "Eh, 'bout a year after Dad threw me out. I wasn't doing too well at the time and....they helped me. Took me under their wing and uh...taught me a few tricks on how to survive."

"...sounds like he was awfully kind." Ford said, tucking the sheets up over the pillows.

"Yeah, still is." Stan sighed, setting the feather duster aside and smirking.

"How would you describe him?" Ford inquired.

"What is this? Twenty questions?" Stan inquired, raising his eyebrow.

Ford tried to disguise the irritation from his voice, with only slight success. "I'm just trying to get an idea of this friend of yours, Stanley. I don't know him, and quite frankly, don't trust him. So excuse me for being a bit skeptical."

"I told you they're a good person, I trust 'em! Why can't ya trust my trust in 'em?"

Ford went to say 'Because I don't trust you!', but bit his tongue last minute. He didn't want to start an argument over something stupid and say something he doesn't mean. (Because he DOES trust Stan, at least, more than anyone else)

Stan grumbled when Ford said nothing in return, turning his attention back to finish dusting off the dresser, when his elbow bumped into a stack of books resting atop it. They began to topple over one another, like a line of stacked dominos. He swore as the last book hit some sort of cheap looking decoration, causing it to tumble to the floor, smashing on impact.

"Look what you did, knucklehead!" Ford suddenly shouted, looking very angry.

"Sorry." Stan muttered, wincing at the mess and chuckling nervously. "At least it didn't look like it was very expensive."

"At least it-?!" Ford growled in frustration, face palming. "Ugh, you're so unbelievable! The price doesn't matter, it's the fact that you broke something of mine! Something important!"

Stan rolls his eyes, bemused, replacing the fallen books on the dresser.“I was wondering how long it’d take before that came up.”

"This isn't funny! You've always been more concerned with your own thoughts, your own feelings, that you don't consider how your actions affect others. When you broke my science fair project, you ruined my chances at ever going to the most prestigious college in the country!" Ford yelled, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

Alright, Stan had had enough.

One of the books was thrown to the floor, the noise echoing loud in Ford's ears as he jumped. Stan turned bodily towards him, features scrunched up in anger.

“...That’s awful funny, coming from you. ‘You’ve always been more concerned with your own feelings.’ Yeah, cuz you're such a great example of compassion." Stan said snarkily, eyes narrowed. "Tell me, who was it that just SAT THERE while the principal talked about how DUMB and USELESS I am, how I was gonna be stuck SCRAPING BARNACLES off the TAFFY SHOP while you were off being INCREDIBLY GIFTED?!?!”

The six fingered nerd actually had the nerve to look conscience-stricken, looking away momentarily before stuttering.

"I-I honestly hadn't been paying attention to the words exchanged between our parents and the principal at that point...I was so caught off guard by the fact that such a college had been interested in me."

Stan saw through the obvious lie.

"Bullshit!" He hissed.

"P-plus! I knew you'd be fine on your own!" Ford quickly added, trying to defend himself. "You always were better at socializing with others and quite creative! You would have found a pretty decent job outside of New Jersey. A-and I thought it would be a great opportunity for us to be apart, get to be our own person. I-"

"Oh, yeah sure." sarcasm dripped heavily from Stan's voice. "Maybe that's what your 'perfect idea' was. Escapin' away ta some preppy college and leavin' me behind to fend for myself, imaging 'Oh, Stan will be perfectly fine on his own. He can handle the crippling loneliness and a crummy job. He's Stan.' Well, guess what, I wouldn't have!"

Ford stood in surprised silence as Stan raged, only moving when his brother suddenly started advancing towards him as he ranted on.

"I was a dumb kid! How was I supposed to provide for myself? I'd never done that before!"

"W-well you've lived this long, haven't you?"

"I WASN'T FUCKING LIVING! I WAS SURVIVING BY THE SKIN OF MY TEETH!"

"Then, why did you sabotage my project?! Out of jealousy?! Because I was going places?!"

"I was SCARED!"

Stanford was dumbstruck. Never before had he heard him, the most headstrong and exuberant person he knew, admit to being scared. Stan wasn’t done. He fixed the scientist with a glare and came to stand closer to him until their faces were mere inches apart.

"I got angry and accidentally broke your machine. And so yeah, I might have ruined your chances at getting into an expensive college, but AT LEAST you still got to go to one! I never even graduated HIGH SCHOOL, STANFORD!! YOU THINK SOMEONE LIKE THAT WOULD HAVE A GOOD LIFE?! A JOB?! A HOME?!?!"

By the end of his tirade, Stan was huffing from exertion, fists balled tensely at his sides. He continued glaring the other down, who he now realized he'd backed against the wall. Ford bore a look of shock and panic, eying the younger warily.

It took Stanley all of one minute to catch onto why his brother was looking at him like that. First, he realized Ford's panic must have been due to how he towered threateningly in front of him, if how he protectively clutched his stomach was any indication.

He consciously backed off a bit, but continued holding the six fingered man's gaze with an angry glare. Ford swallowed nervously, relaxing only slightly as his eyes took on a look of guilt and sadness.

"You...you're homeless?"

And that's when the grifter realized what Ford's shock had been from. He'd slipped up and mentioned he was homeless.

Well, shit.

Stan grimaced slightly at this, no longer able to hold his brother's gaze. He hadn't meant to tell Ford anything about his life. (At least, not the truth.) He was supposed to keep that to himself, not wanting his family to find out just how much a screw up he'd become over the years.

The grifter tried to think of a way out of this conversation, suddenly very uncomfortable. He didn't know what Ford would say about this information, and honestly, he didn't wanna find out.

Suddenly, the sound of a vehicle pulling up the road outside caught their attention. Impeccable timing.

"Oh, that, uh, must be Arthur." Stan said nervously. "I'd better go greet 'em."

Stan brushed past his brother, taking the opportunity to get out of any further conversation on the matter, exiting the bedroom. He made his way to the house's front door and opened it, freezing up a bit in surprise when he saw an old tan pickup truck and a twig looking man with round rimmed glasses in the driver's seat. He noticed how the man seemed to tense at his presence, looking away nervously.

He sure as hell didn't know the man. Must be a friend or something of Ford's.

What sounded like a tailgate slamming shut caused them both to jump and Stanley's eyes snapped up in time to watch as a woman walked out from behind the truck, with a nauseous look on her face, carrying three bags. She wore a dark greyish-brown trenchcoat and black baggy pants, a lime green t-shirt, and grey steel-toe boots. She had shoulder length orangish-blonde hair covered up by a maroon cap, a medium skin tone complexion, forest green eyes, and a (slightly forced) sharp-toothed smile.

"Stan!" she exclaimed happily, striding quickly towards him, throwing her arms over his shoulders. "It's good to see you again!"

Stan smiled, returning her embrace. "Good to see you too, A'thuria. See the motion sickness hasn't gotten any better."

"Ugh, don't remind me." Arthuria rolled her eyes, pulling back from the hug and looking Stan over. "Well, you've certainly changed over the years. I can't believe the last time I saw you, you were still a scrappy teen. Now look at ya! How have you been?"

"Eh, as well as could be expected. Gotten into some trouble here and there, pickpocketed a bunch of people. You know, the usual." Stan replied. "How 'bout you? Gone on any heists lately?"

"Yeah, actually." Arthuria grinned cheekily, shrugging one of her shoulders which had a strap leading around to her back, where something wrapped in a large blue cloth was sheathed. "Picked up something very interesting."

"Hmm. Might have to tell me about it later." Stan hummed, eyeing the item curiously.

"Sure."

It was at that moment Ford finally stepped out beside Stan, rubbing his now puffy red eyes, to which no one commented on. Said eyes widened in surprise upon landing on Arthuria, who kindly waved.

"Y-you're...Arthur?" he asked dumbly.

"Well, my full name is Arthuria, but some people call me Arthur." She replied.

Ford turned to his twin, cheeks colored in embarrassment. "Stanley, I thought you mentioned Arthur as being a man."

"No, I didn't. You just assumed she was." Stan shrugged.

"And you never thought to correct me?"

"Believe me, while having a chance to correct you is priceless, I figured letting you be the dumb twin for once would be funnier."

Ford glared down at his feet, avoiding eye contact.

"Same old Pines." Arthuria chuckled, glancing over at the man still sitting awkwardly in the driver's side of his truck. "Thank you again for the lift, Fiddleford. I don't think I would have been able to trek all the way here without getting frostbite. Stan, is there some place I can set all this down?"

Stan barely noticed the way Ford tensed up when she had said the twig's name or the gasp he let out when he seemed to finally notice him. He just lugged Arthuria's dufflebag over his arm and showed her inside, leaving the nerds as the only two outside.

"Hey, does your brother know that guy?" Arthuria asked, following Stan back to the room she'd be staying in.

"I think. You did say the shrimp's name was Fiddleford, right?" She nodded. "Yeah, he mentioned him at some point. Was his assistant or somethin' other. But they got into an argument and he stopped comin' 'round."

"So they parted on bad terms. Guess that would explain why when I mentioned where I was heading, Fiddleford got real tense...and he looked scared." Arthuria muttered, when they suddenly heard tires screeching and the sound of Fiddleford's truck growing distant as it tore down the drive. "Must have been a pretty bad fight."

"Yeah." Arthuria shrugged off her satchel and placed it on the bed while Stan dropped her dufflebag in the floor beside it."You can go ahead and get settled in. I'll be in the kitchen in the meantime."

As Stan made his way to said kitchen, he heard the door open then quietly click shut, followed by a heavy sigh. Ford had told him prior that his assistant had been close friends before they had their shouting match. Poor nerd. Only other friend he had made aside from his brother, and he went and trenched that up.

The young grifter growled stubbornly, shaking his head. No. If Stanford couldn't ever hear out the other side of the story and actually listen, then that's what he gets. He realizes he may be projecting his and his twin's issues on the matter, but hell. The situation is more or less the same. Kinda.

Stanley put those thoughts aside, busying himself with rummaging through the cupboards in search of something to fix for lunch. He finally decided upon just making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, pulling out the needed bread and jars and setting them on the counter.

While he slathered the peanut butter onto three slices of bread, Ford made his way into the room. He wordlessly slunk over to one of the dining chairs, sinking down. The scientist appeared lost in thought, eyes distant and expression troubled. Stan moved on to slathering jelly on the other three slices before speaking.

"I'm guessin' he's still pissed."

"Quite. F...wouldn't even speak to me. He just left." Ford sighed.

"Did you try apologizing?" Stan asked, licking the remaining jelly from the butter knife.

The scientist glared. "He didn't give me a chance to say anything. As soon as I started walking towards the truck, he threw it in reverse and sped away!"

"Mmm." Stan grunted as he stacked the finished sandwiches up on a plate, before muttering under his breath. "Guess now you understand what it's like to be ignored."

Ford's glare melted into a saddened look, eyes averting to the floor.

"Here." the grifter said, handing Ford one of the sandwiches. "Eat up."

"Stan..."

"Eat."

Ford sighed in surrender, taking a bite of his sandwich as Stan went to offer one to Arthuria, leaving him to his thoughts. As he swallowed another bite, he glanced down at his slightly distended stomach.

"How am I ever going to fix things between me and my brother?"

[coffee--writes]

Cherry

Pairing: Lily Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k 

Warnings: Angsty but nothing more

Requested: No. It is a song fic for Cherry by Harry Styles. I would also like to say the music notes headers are to show the instrumental portions of the song which I believe add to the fic. 

Summary: In which, you struggle to move on from you and Lily’s past relationship. 

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪

The cool air bit at your neck under the willow tree that day. 

Leaves fell majestically by your side as you faced the cold, a scarf around your shoulders, mittens covering your palms and boots on your feet. 

But although your body was protected from the bitter chill of November, nothing could save you from the frigid emptiness inside your mind. 

It seemed Lily Evans had made a large indentation in your life. 

For worse or for better. 

Don’t you call him “baby” 

We’re not talking lately

Don’t you call him what you used to call me

James Potter. 

Oh, how you had hated him. 

You remembered his pestering presence. Each and every Hogsmeade trip you and Lily had spent together was always greeted with glasses and a smirk you had grown to hate but Lily would grow to love. 

At first you had been angry. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that James Potter fancied Lily Evans. He didn’t try to hide it, in fact he was proud to be rejected by her. But months later, when Lily had moved on, you realized you couldn’t blame him. No one had known of those secret moments shared between you and Lily Evans. No one knew of the stolen kisses in hidden corridors, the late night rendezvous in the kitchen or the hands that were intertwined under the table. James Potter hadn’t known that those days he spent pestering were more than just an outing with a friend. 

You couldn’t stay mad at him. 

It wouldn’t have been fair. 

But you were angry and that had been the problem. You couldn’t be mad at James for his ignorance. There were days you desperately wished you could be mad at Lily Evans. She had always insisted on keeping your relationship a secret. Few people knew of the love shared between the two of you. Only Lily’s trusted friends. She had insisted yours would tell someone in the end. 

Begrudgingly, you had agreed to her words. Most of your relationship was spent in secret or in the confidence of Mary, Marlene, and Dorcas, who you soon grow to love dearly. You knew now that Lily hadn’t been fair. But yet, you couldn’t find the power to be angry with her. 

So you stayed angry at yourself. 

A month had gone by since you had ended things and the few glimpses you saw of Lily she was linked hand in hand with James. You watched as he pressed kisses to her cheeks in front of the world, tucking her cherry red hair behind her ear. They always sat tucked away in the corner, surrounded by ever growing flowers. No matter how far away from them you were you could always hear her whispers to him. That magical word that used to belong to you and only you. 

“Baby” she would say, her lips forming the vowels perfectly. 

And each time the word was said James Potter would smile and you would only look away, your mind lingering back to those moments when she had called you hers. 

I… I confess

I can tell that you are at your best

I’m selfish so I’m hating it 

Walking down the sun lit halls had become bittersweet. 

For there she was, walking side by side with James Potter, a large smile on her face. You hadn’t seen that smile in a long time. In the beginning it had always been there. Her smile was beautiful, a perfect compliment to that cherry red hair that you loved so deeply.  You had loved that you were the person who got to see it the most. 

But now James saw it every hour of every day as you had once before. Maybe he thought about it each night as he went to sleep as you had done and continued to do each night. Lily’s smile had left you a long time ago and now it seemed to have returned. 

And although her smile produced a warm feeling in the pit of your chest, your mind wallowed in a bitter cold due to the fact that she was smiling without you. Her figure disappeared from view and that selfish pit turned into a bitter hatred towards yourself. 

You were happy for Lily. 

At least you were trying to be. 

I notice that

There’s a piece of you in how I dress

Take it as a compliment 

Lily had buried herself deeper than you had thought. 

It became clear to you when you had shuffled through your collection of clothes. Your typical outfit consisted of frayed jeans and a cardigan; a basic look. Today you were going to Hogsmeade and although you were going with a friend you decided to get dressed up for the occasion. 

That was when you had noticed the floral pattern that had once littered your floor. 

Lily had loved sundresses. You remembered shopping hours looking for the perfect one. “It has to match my hair and eyes.” she would say. Each time you would roll your eyes but in reality she had always looked gorgeous in every one she tried on. She had soon pestered you into buying one. 

“Come on, Y/N/N. You’ll look amazing in the flower one.” 

So you had tried it on and the pattern had grown on you. It didn’t help that her face always lit up when you wore it. Now she was gone and you could only stare at the blue flower petals that blossomed on the contrasting white of the fabric. Time was ticking and you wouldn’t let thoughts of her spoil your day. 

You slipped on the dress quickly. 

You couldn’t deny she had amazing taste. 

Don’t you call him “baby” 

We’re not talking lately 

Don’t you call him what you used to call me 

Her actions hurt. 

Ignoring you, that was. 

Very few people questioned the drifting friendship between you two. Before you would walk together, side by side, hips bumping each other softly. Now, you walked opposite ends of the corridor, those emerald green eyes never meeting yours. 

In a way it was a blessing. The lack of words between you and her. You knew deep down that if you had to look into those eyes again or watch the freckles on her face dance that your chilled exterior would soon fall apart. You’d remember those nights spent in the greenhouses watching as the magical lunar flowers budded in the streaks of moonlight. You’d recall the music you once danced to in your home over the summer as the sun set in the English countryside. 

Emerald green eyes and cherry red hair would lead you to remember every kiss and every study date. Days spent in grassy fields on sunny days or stormy nights cuddled by the fire. You were even reminded of the smallest things like the exchanging of books, a tap to the nose and long conversations that were lost in the void of the night. Memories would flood your mind and you would soon drown in their depth. 

For once, you were thankful to be ignored. 

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪

Lily had been your only friend. 

That was a slight exaggeration but it felt that way. You talked to other people and they were kind. But none of them had the connection you and Lily had once shared. Without her by your side it was as if you were travelling with only half a heart. Half a soul. Lily had acted as your compass and without her you lost all sense of direction. 

So you watched her from the window. 

There she was, laughing loudly alongside Potter and his friends. Their feet left prints on the shore of the lake. They splashed at her, an act that a younger Lily would have scolded them for. But she looked so happy, a smile shining bright for her beloved Potter. Your hand rested on your chin and a sad smile made its way to your face. 

Their laughs echoed in the blank slate of your mind. 

I... I just miss 

I just miss your accent and your friends 

Did you know I still talk to them? 

Today was one of the rare moments you felt completely at peace. 

Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas walked at your sides, small smiles on their lips. You hadn’t seen them in a while as they had always been closer to Lily and you knew they preferred her company. But even after you and Lily had fallen off they had acted as your friends. 

After walking down the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade you finally asked the question that hung at the tip of your tongue. “How is she?” 

All their eyes averted to the ground. Marlene was the first one to speak up, nervously playing with the ends of her blonde hair, “Good.” she said simply, “She seems to be doing good.” 

Her words were confirmed by a nod from Mary and a sigh from Dorcas. You nodded in return, pushing your hands into your pockets, “Is she happy?” 

Marlene smiled sadly, “Yeah.” she replied, “Very.” 

“Good.” was the only answer you supplied. 

You could feel the peaceful day you had envisioned falling apart. Mentions of Lily sent your mind into a spiraling void of emotion in which you had hoped to avoid but instead you had wrestled the tiger head on. Unfortunately, the tiger had won. 

And now she was coming back to gloat. 

“Marls!”

You froze as did the three other girls. Her voice rang in your ears. You hadn’t heard it in a long time. At least not this clear. You could hear the sweet tone of her voice that no one else in the world seemed to hold. Each syllable, as melodious as a birds song. Mary’s eyes fell on you, watching as you shrunk away from the scene. 

Her voice was the last sound you heard as you walked away from the pain she embodied so deeply. 

Does he take you walking ‘round his parents’ gallery? 

Compared to James Potter you didn’t have much to offer. 

The Potters were a well-known family. Rich but humble. Pure but not prejudice. They were the picture perfect wizarding family with their abundance of talent and Quidditch skills being passed to their son; a bright boy with a knack for causing trouble. 

You weren’t anything special. A single mother who worked around the clock to keep you supported. An absent father who had left when you were a child. Your life wasn’t tragic but it was far from perfect. You could never offer Lily the world in her hands. Each gift came with a price; an extra hour of work for your mother, a summer job for you to work. 

Lily had always understood and she hadn’t asked for more than you could offer. She had appreciated the small things you would give her with a smile and a kiss. It was one of your favorite things about her. She had the unique ability to understand and be content whilst you felt pent up with your lack of wealth and inability to supply her with wonders. 

Surprisingly, whenever you passed her in the halls and saw the necklace Potter had bought her around her neck, you felt happy. Although anger always lingered in your heart, you were glad someone was able to give her what she deserved. 

It wasn’t you and you were slowly learning to accept that. 

Don’t you call him “baby”

We’re not talking lately

Don’t you call him what you used to call me 

Your final year at Hogwarts passed by in a blur. You watched Lily Evans slowly fall in love with the boy who had always wanted her. She smiled all the time now, her eyes never wandered towards yours and as much as it pained you that they didn’t, you hoped she had found peace. 

Don’t you call him “baby” 

We’re not talking lately 

Don’t you call him what you used to call me 

As for you, peace seemed to be out of question. 

Peace was watching her be happy with someone who wasn’t you. It was watching her relationship from afar and catching moments where the two of you had gone wrong but James had gotten it right. Even without her by your side, Lily Evans played a major role in your life. Your eyes always wandered into her life where you weren’t wanted anymore. 

You watched her take James to the end of year ball. His friends became her friends and she quickly took after them slightly. She owned a leather jacket and often studied with Remus in her spare time. She baked with Peter and you desperately wished that somewhere… somehow, you fit into the equation. 

But you didn’t. 

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪

So you watched her graduate top of the year, cherry red hair blazing as she smiled. 

You read of her joining the Order of the Phoenix, Dorcas expressing her worries in the letters she sent. 

You stared emptily at the letter from Dorcas, sending news of James and Lily’s wedding. 

Nothing could move you off the floorboards of your flat. 

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪

The morning of August 11th was foggy but in the hills of Scotland they were shining on a bride with cherry red hair and her groom. 

You hadn’t been invited to Lily’s wedding and for that you were grateful. You knew that today was the day. Dorcas and you had kept up correspondence and she knew you well enough to know that you were curious of Lily’s affairs. 

That morning you found yourself sitting in front of a box of memories. What stuck out to you was a tape. No label was on it but a small heart. Curiosity tickled your mind and after a minute you stuck the tape into the cassette player. 

First came the static. 

Then her voice. 

“Is it on?” you said, your voice coming through muffled on the speaker, “Yeah.” 

Her voice was muffled as well, but you knew it by heart. Her melodious laugh followed and just from that you could picture her hair, the color of cherries and her eyes sparkling like emeralds. “Well, Y/N… are you going to say something.” 

You froze, concentrating deeply to hear through the static, “I guess I’ll say… I love you Lily Evans!” 

She laughed and it was the realest thing you had heard in months, “You’re so cheesy, Y/N/N.” 

“Well, one day we’ll listen to this and you won’t be saying that.” you reply with a chuckle. 

“Alright. Alright. I guess we’ll say goodbye for now.” she said, her words burning in your mind. 

“Goodbye!” 

“Goodbye!” 

The static returned once more and the weight of the world seemed to fall on your shoulders.

 You finally let out a long-awaited sob.

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪ 

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[ayatosmlktea]

Hi may i request some levi x reader in which she is a gentle nurse who goes to the underground ocassionally to help the kids in need there? Kinda like charity idk. Levi (still living in there with Farlan and Isabel) thinks her actions are not selfless or maybe resents her by thinking she looks down on all of the underground citizens, until Farlan gets injured and the reader helps them, making Levi see her in a new light, having a crush on her. Thanks you

A/N: This was a great request! Sorry it took so long! This request is just about 4000 words...I obviously got carried away with it but I hope you enjoy it!!!!!

𝑱𝒖𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍 

To say that Levi despised her was an understatement. The way she would come and go as she pleased, pitying their despairing life was vile to him. There was absolutely no way that anyone of her social standing could do anything out of the kindness of their own hearts. 

There was always an ulterior motive.  At first he hadn’t paid much attention to her presence, figuring that once she got a taste of what the underground was like she would go running back to the surface at the first sight of filth. He hadn’t paid much attention to the medical care she was giving a few of the kids, sure he could appreciate the poor underfed brats being taken care of. No one looked out for anyone down there, it was eat or be eaten.

Levi didn’t know why her presence made him so annoyed, or why the mere sight of her had his skin crawling in a way that made him want to scrub his skin until it was raw. Levi hated pity, especially when it came from spoiled good-for-nothing rich outsiders. The last thing any of them needed were constant reminders of how close the lives they wanted were only to have it ripped from their grasp. Isabel and Farlan were less jaded than Levi was and a little bit too trusting of the gentle stranger that came in and out of the underground.

“She’s really nice, big bro! You should give her a chance!” Isabel pleaded, Levi merely scoffed. Like he would ever let himself get close to her kind. The last thing he needed was some stuck up snobby rich girl pitying him.

“I’ll pass,” Levi replied, his tone indicating that the conversation should end there. Isabel sighed dramatically but decided to drop the topic for now knowing that if she pushed any harder she was never going to get Levi to even look at Y/N. Rounding the corner a sneer flashed across his face as his eyes met the crouched form of the unofficial underground nurse.

“Come on, let me see that beautiful smile of yours” Levi rolled his eyes at the soft words that made the small girl giggle.  Pulling out a few tissues from her bag she wiped away any stray tears on the child’s face and then gave her extra ones to blow her nose.

“This is going to hurt a little bit but you can handle it right? You’re a tough cookie!” The red haired child nodded tentatively, her hands clenched in her lap while the h/c woman unwrapped a pad of alcohol wipes and rubbed it over a fairly nasty scrape on the girl's knee. Her fingers worked quickly as she wrapped white gauze around the little girl’s knee, securing it with clips and medical tape.

“There! All better” The kind hearted smile she gave the little girl while handing her a small piece of chocolate had his stomach churning.

“See! Told ya she was nice” Isabel chirped, skipping over to chat with her newly made friend. Levi was not impressed, not in the slightest.

“What’s your deal?” He asked, looking down at her with an unwavering gaze that would have had most men running with their tail between their legs. E/C eyes finally raised to meet his glare, her brow cocked as she let out a scoff.

“Why do I need to have a deal? Can’t I just help because I want to?” Packing up the bandages into her small black bag she stood up, smoothing the creases on her skirt. She was taller than Levi, crossing her arms over her chest and rested her weight on one leg. Her sudden cocky demeanour a complete flip from the kind-hearted young woman that had been crouched before him seconds ago.

“No, no one does shit just because they want to. Everyone has a price, what’s yours?” Y/N rolled her eyes, a curt laugh grating against his ears painfully.

“What a cynical worldview you have, some of us don’t give a shit about money. These kids need help, would you rather I let them succumb to preventable infections and have them suffer?”

“Tch, no one here needs your charity. Whatever you’re expecting to get from these people you think you’re helping isn’t going to happen. Stop giving these kids false hope, all you’re doing is waving your perfect life in their faces while reminding them that they’re never going to live one” Levi’s words were cold, sharp and unforgiving. Every sentence gradually louder than the next until he was spitting his feelings of resentfulness easily and without restraint.

“I’m assuming you’re Levi. Isabel did say you were a bit difficult to get to know.” Levi’s eyes briefly glanced over at the bashful looking red-head before focusing on Y/N.

“I don’t care what your opinions of me are, if you don’t like me then stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours!” Not giving Levi the chance to come up with another jab to her intentions she turned her back on him and started walking off with Isabel at her side.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance Levi strode off in the opposite direction, he would make damn sure that their paths never crossed again.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

“You’ve got to be kidding me” Levi groaned, it seemed that no matter how hard he tried to avoid her, they always seemed to run into each other. Y/N’s presence had become too frequent for Levi’s liking. He couldn’t shake his gut feeling that her intentions were not as innocent as she wanted them to think. 

What normal person went out of their way to care for kids they had no obligations to? Even their own parents didn’t seem to care about them as much as Y/N did. Levi had no idea what was so appealing about her, he was surprised Isabel continued to hang around her for as long as she did.

“Hey it’s okay! It’s only going to feel like a little pinch for two seconds and then it’s over” Y/N was trying to soothe a crying boy, he looked scared and if Levi didn’t know any better she looked exhausted. Her clothes were stained in a mixture of dirt and what looked like blood. 

His nose scrunched at how dirty she was. Noticing the small needle in her hands Levi could gather enough to know that she was having trouble trying to calm the frantic boy sitting across from her. There was a white bandage wrapped around his upper arm.

He should have just kept walking, completely ignored her and pretended that she didn’t exist, but his feet wouldn’t move.

Her eyes slowly raised, a small spark of relief flashed across her face.

“Can you please hold him still for me? I just need to give him this shot so he doesn’t get an infection” Her tone was soft but her eyes were pleading with him for help. Figuring that it was better to get it over with, and not because he felt any compassion for her, Levi squatted down nudging the child to look at him.

“Listen kid, just sit still and let her give you the shot. Otherwise you’re going to get sick, is that what you want?” She inwardly cringes at his absence of gentleness but it seems to work, and she isn’t going to argue with it.

“There! It’s all done, wasn’t so bad was it?” she smiles brightly at the boy who wipes away a few tears shaking his head. Handing him a small piece of chocolate, the same thing she did after treating every one of her ‘patients’, she checked the bandage on his arm one last time.

“Make sure you wash this properly tonight okay? Have your sister wrap it again tomorrow morning and don’t go playing around with metal, got it?” Y/N says sternly, handing him a small roll of bandages.

“Thank you, miss” he sniffles, giving her a quick hug before running off.

“Still running your charity business I see” Levi mutters, Y/N rolls her eyes in response.

“Do you really think I’d still be doing this for free if I didn’t care about these kids? I’ve had my fair share of intimidation down here” Y/N replies, it wasn’t unlike Levi to make jabs at her work. It had already been nearly three months of consistently sneaking down into the underground and caring for the sick, hurt children and occasionally some of the adults.

“I know how you feel about me but I’m not going to justify my actions, I help people who need it. That’s it! There’s nothing in it for me except being able to sleep at night knowing that I’m able to make a difference for these kids” She’s persistent, Levi gives her that much. It’s almost a little endearing. Endearing? Where the hell did that come from, Levi shakes his head. He was not about to get soft for her, no matter how pure her intentions seemed. 

At the end of the day their worlds were never meant to collide.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Levi didn’t know why their paths always collided. He couldn’t explain why he was watching her like some creep from a distance. If he didn’t see her at least once a week he knew something was off. Nearly all the kids had taken a liking to her, even some of the older troublesome teenagers were putty in her hands. 

Perhaps it was the gentle touch she so willingly and freely gave that they’d never know. Levi watched her work with a fascination that he would never let her know, her fingers were gentle and skilled. Not once had she ever commented on their lifestyle or made them feel the way that everyone viewed them.

 She didn’t seem to mind the dirt and filth that clung to her clothes, and was more than willing to spend extra time with the children she helped care for. Maybe she wasn’t like the others, maybe there was something different about her heart. His many harsh jabs at her never deterred her and she was more than capable of holding her own against his crass humor.

Somewhere along half heartedly insulting her he’d actually come to miss her presence. After her confession last time that she’d run into the less favourable men of the underground, Levi had taken it upon himself to personally escort her back to the entrance. He was a well known thug, people wouldn’t bother her if they knew what was good for themselves. 

Y/N couldn’t say she wasn’t grateful, and more often than once she’d found herself wanting to kiss him. It was a little ridiculous, falling for someone who acted like they didn’t want anything to do with her, but underneath layers of walls that had been up to keep his heart protected was a very vulnerable person. Y/N chalked it up to her nurturing nature, it had to be the only reasonable explanation for why she craved his presence at night. 

She was also fairly close to Farlan, except he didn’t bring a parade of butterflies with him whenever he was around. He didn’t make her uncharacteristically nervous, and he most definitely didn’t make her swoon when their eyes met. Sighing in defeat, Y/N covers her head with her pillow. 

She had a thing for Levi, and she had it bad.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

The door to their house slams open, Levi and Farlan stumble in both covered in a mixture of blood and dirt. Farlan looks a lot worse for wear than Levi, a large pool of blood soaking through his shirt. His face is deathly pale and there are large beads of sweat dripping down his face and he can barely stand on his own.

“What happened?” Isabel cries rushing towards the two, helping Levi carry Farlan over to the couch and lying him down.

“We got ambushed” Levi huffs under his breath, he would’ve had no trouble taking out the thugs that had jumped them if Farlan hadn’t been sliced open while he had been caught off guard.

Lifting his shirt Isabel nearly gags, the wound is deep and wide across his stomach with blood flowing out.

“Get some towels and put pressure on it, we need to stop the bleeding” Levi orders snapping Isabel out of her trance.

While they’re all fairly good at stitching up small wounds, neither of them have ever done anything this big before and at the rate that Farlan is losing blood they need to act fast.

“Go get Y/N! She can help” Levi wants to say no, he’s stubborn and too prideful to admit that they need her help.

“Please!” Levi doesn’t say anything, one look at Farlan’s face is enough to convince him that now would be the right time to swallow his pride. He doesn’t even know where to start looking for her but at least his ODM gear can make the search for her faster.

It almost feels like luck is on their side, Y/N isn’t far from their house and Levi almost flies right into her as she rounds a corner.

“I need your help” Y/N can’t contain her shock, not once in all her time in the underground had Levi ever asked her for help and on top of it he looked like he’d been to hell and back.

“What’s wrong with you?” She asks jokingly not thinking his request was actually serious. Her eyes assess his black eye and cut lip.

“It’s Farlan” Her eyes widen ever so slightly, the pit of dread in her stomach signaling that it was probably bad if Levi had grown some balls to ask for her help.

“Please” Y/N is sure she’s been knocked out or at the very least hallucinating and she wants to make a witty jab but the look in his eyes is one she’s never seen before. It’s almost desperate, and if she looks a little closer, scared. Nodding she lets out a surprised yelp when Levi grabs her in his arms.

“Don’t let go” he mumbles before manoeuvring them through the streets.

“Yeah, like I’d do that!” She tries to sound sassy but the feeling of soaring through the air makes the words catch in her throat coming out more scared than anything. Y/N can’t deny that the feeling of zipping so freely through the air is just as exhilarating as it is terrifying, it’s something she’s always wanted to experience. Her eyes always followed the trio with amazement and adoration at how effortless they made it look.

Her arms tighten around his neck as he makes a sharp turn and she wonders if she imagines the barely audible sharp intake of air he takes. His feet hit the ground and the force of his momentum is  hard enough to throw her out of his grasp if it weren’t for his arms holding her against him.

“Um thanks” she mutters, hoping to God that her face isn’t as red as it feels.

Her legs are a little wobbly and her heart feels like it’s going to burst out of her chest and she’s sure her face is on fire. Levi ushers her into the house, his hand just ghosting over the small of her back leaving sparks of electricity in their place.

“Y/N! Thank gods you’re here” Isabel nearly cries with relief, her hands are soaked with Farlan’s blood and it makes her stomach churn. She’d been expecting something bad, but this was almost beyond her capabilities.

“Okay I need a bowl of warm water, some more towels, a bucket and I need an extra pair of hands.” Dropping her bag next to the couch and rolling up her sleeves she looks to Levi.

“Do you have somewhere else we can move him? Preferably a table?” Y/N and Levi carefully move Farlan’s barely conscious body onto the large table they dragged from the kitchen beside  the couch. Levi grimaces at the blood soaked cushions, guilt eating away at him. Isabel brings over a bowl of warm water and towels.

“Maybe you should wait outside Izzy, you did a great job stabilizing him until I got here” Y/N gives Isabel a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to” she offers, while washing her hands.

“Of course I’m staying” he rolls his eyes, almost offended that she would insinuate he couldn’t handle it. Sure it was messy but Farlan was his family.

“Okay then let’s get started. We’re running out of time”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

What felt like hours later, Y/N closed the last stitch. Her fingers were so cramped she couldn’t uncurl them, her feet and back were aching but Farlan would live. He’d lost a substantial amount of blood, but there was nothing she could do about that for now. 

She’d have to come back with more supplies tomorrow. All she wanted to do was collapse onto the floor and sleep, her eyes were burning and blurry. Levi had gone to call Isabel inside and the two carried Farlan into his room. She grabbed the bloodied towels and threw them into the garbage. She’d have to bring more towels too.

“You should rest” Levi murmurs from beside her causing her to jump out of her skin.

“God Levi, don’t do that!” she huffs, her body just barely leaning against his as he moves to turn off the tap water.

“Someone's jumpy” he smirks, enjoying the crimson tint that spreads over her face. God his smirk was lethal.

“Shut up” Y/N huffs, drying her hands. Her body was so tired she could barely pick her feet up. Levi grabs her by the upper arm, leading her to his bedroom. Even in her state of exhaustion she feels the room becoming smaller and hotter as she watches him sort through his clothes, finally throwing her a plain shirt.

“Change and then get some sleep, you look like shit” Levi directs her to the bathroom.

“Always so charming” Y/N mutters, feeling a little self conscious at his comment. It wasn’t the first time he’d commented on her appearance but it was the first time that it made her feel self-conscious. Maybe it was because this was the first time she’d ever seen a side to his personal life, or maybe it was because all she wanted was one compliment from him.

 It was probably pointless, the Levi she’d grown to love didn’t come off as someone who had time to let anyone else in. Looking back at her reflection in the mirror, she had to admit he had a point. Her hair was a little frizzy, strands were coming undone from her ponytail and the circles under her eyes were a little darker than usual. 

Despite being too tired to even think about putting effort into her appearance, the feelings for Levi that had taken over her rational mind would not allow her to leave the bathroom without even trying to look half decent.

Wearing his shirt was something else entirely, it smelled like him, which was probably creepy of her to say but it made a longing to call him hers pang in her heart.

“Stop being so fucking soft” she scolds herself mentally. It wasn’t going to do her any good to fall for him. Not that it had worked in slowing down her feelings.

“Just tell her! What’s the worst that could happen?” She hears Isabel say through the door, her curiosity spiking.

“She could hear me” Levi responds dryly.

“Is that big bro’s shirt?” Isabel asked, her eyes darting to Levi briefly, as Y/N walked out of the bathroom.

“Uh, yeah” she mumbled feeling suddenly tiny under Isabel and Levi’s gaze. Something unreadable flashes across Isabel’s face before grabbing the dirty clothes out of her hands.

“I’ll go wash these for you!” She chirps.

“Oh no it’s okay, I can do it!” Y/N protests but Isabel is having none of it.

“Y/N please, you saved Farlan’s life. This is the least I can do” Y/N still felt guilty letting Isabel wash her clothes but she knew how stubborn the red-head could be.

“Go sleep, you need it” It was strange being in Levi’s room, it was personal and intimate and yet it felt like she was just a stranger looking in. His room was clean, unsurprisingly, there weren’t many things in it but she didn’t have to ask him to know that whatever was in the room had some sentimental value to him.

“The bed isn’t going to bite” Levi declared once again giving her a heart attack.

“Stop doing that! At least make noise or something” Y/N groaned, willing her heart to calm down. The two of them sat awkwardly on the edge of his bed, not saying anything and it was only making her more nervous.

“Thank you” his words were so quiet she wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t sitting so close to her.

“You don’t need to thank me, I’m always happy to help” Y/N replied truthfully, it was something she would have done for anyone else.

“I guess I was wrong about you” he chuckled softly, her heart was pounding in her chest so hard it physically hurt. This was the first time she’d seen him smile, let alone laugh. Levi turned his head, his eyes lingering on her lips long enough to make the back of her neck prickle with heat.

 She didn’t know what spurred it, maybe she was too tired to care, but she found herself leaning into him and to her surprise Levi wasn’t moving away. His hand cupped the side of her face bringing their lips together in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Her entire being was screaming, nerves on fire and heart about to explode. It was everything she had ever dreamed of and more.

Levi had never felt anything softer or tasted anything sweeter than her lips. It made his head spin, and his stomach flip with nerves. His mind was so overwhelmed with pleasure that the sting of his cut lips didn’t even register in his mind. He didn’t want to stop kissing her but his lungs were burning for air. 

Y/N pulled him right back in, her fists gripping the collar of his shirt and his other hand tangles itself in her hair at the nape of her neck. Kissing her was addictive, it felt like finally coming up for air and the feeling of her hands cupping his jaw had his nerves short circuiting. Eventually, her impulsivity wore off and the realization of what she’d done hit her hard.

“I can’t believe we just kissed” she whispered, bringing a hand to her slightly swollen lips which were still tingling from his touch. Levi immediately took her words to mean that she regretted it and his body tensed, waiting for her to take it back.

“Oh, was it a mistake then?”

“No! That’s not what I meant!” she explains frantically knowing that he’ll shut her out at the slightest hint of rejection

“I obviously have feelings for you, dumbass” Levi rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“So articulate, Y/N”

“I’ve thought about doing that for a while” she mumbles, Levi could feel the tips of his ears growing hot at her confession.

“Say something! I look like an idiot confessing all by myse-” Levi drags her back in for another kiss effectively cutting her off.

“Is this a good enough confession for you?” He smirks and suddenly Y/N isn’t that tired anymore.

“I don’t know, you might need to convince me a little more”

[phoenix1410200]

Well, here is the post clarifying my thought process for the next few cards and the characters I'm unsure on. (Hope you'll enjoy it and that you may can help me with the decisions.)

Here are the remaining cards I still need to do (four of the cards I've already decided on a character/event with 99% certainty, regarding the rest I'm quite torn on which character/event/object I want to depict):

• The Magician (Card 1)

• The Hermit (Card 9)

• Justice (Card 11)

• The Hanged Man (Card 12)

• Death (Card 13) -> The Titan (probably)

• The Devil (Card 15)

• The Star (Card 17)

• The Moon (Card 18) -> Amity Blight

• The Sun (Card 19) -> Luz Noceda (I am waiting for the reveal of her palisman)

• Judgement (Card 20) -> The Day of Unity (probably)

• The World (Card 21)

[Note: Firstly, I'm not an expert in Tarot, so not everything will be 100% correct (especially due to the fact that Tarot is highly symbolic). Secondly, I'm using the Rider Waite deck, so the characters I chose are mostly fitting the description of that deck.]

Now, let's get to the potential candidates and my reasoning behind them.

Card 1 — The Magician

Keywords of "The Magician":

• UPRIGHT: Manifestation, resourcefulness, power, inspired action, willpower, desire, creation, skill, ability, concentration

• REVERSED: Manipulation, poor planning, untapped talents, wasted talent, cunning, trickery, illusions, deception, out of touch

First of all, I need to explain some symbolism regarding this card. In this card the four suits of tarot are shown (wands, pentacles, cups, sword). Each one stands for one of the classical four elements (wands = fire , pentacles = earth, cups = water, sword = air) and represents how the Magician is a master of the elements ("he has all the tools (and elements) he needs to manifest his intentions into being"). This of course would translate to (elemental) glyph magic and a master of glyphs.

Candidates for "The Magician":

• Luz Noceda — Luz wants to be a witch aka a magic user. She rediscovered glyph magic and is very skilled in using glyph magic. Also, a snake is usally depicted in this card (which might be Luz's palisman).

• Eda Clawthorne — Eda is (or at least was) one of the most powerful magic users on the Boiling Isles. She was a master of all kinds of magic and currently learns glyph magic. Eda can also be deceptive and manipulative. Her plans aren't always the best, but she's still very cunning and skilled.

• Augustus "Gus" Porter — Despite his young age, Gus is a very skilled witch (especially or rather mainly in illusion magic). In "Through the Looking-Glass Ruins" he felt down and how he felt like he was useless and wasted his talent. Also in this episode, Gus started to use glyph magic which he could still used later down the line.

• Hunter — Hunter is a very skilled person, both physically and in regards to his magical abilities. He also can be manipulative and deceptive (as shown in his appearances so far). He is also interested in wild magic and knows about 'elemental magic used in the Savage Ages'. Not to mention the potential of him learning glyph magic.

• Philip Wittebane — Mostly for his potential as a character and the fact given that he must have learned some sort of magic (probably glyph magic) during his life on the Boiling Isles.

Card 9 — The Hermit

Keywords of "The Hermit":

• UPRIGHT: Self-reflection, introspection, contemplation, withdrawal, solitude, search for self, search for truth, inner guidance, being alone

• REVERSED: Loneliness, isolation, withdrawal, recluse, being anti-social, rejection, lost your way, returning to society

Candidates for "The Hermit":

• Eda Clawthorne — Eda lived a long period of her life in solitude and isolation. She had to do a lot of introspection in order to get where she is now. This card also sometimes represents a mentor figure and is sometimes considered the mature and wiser version of "The Magician".

• Hunter — Hunter is quite a lonely character that needs to do a lot of introspection. Also, he has potential to fit this card quite well.

• Philip Wittebane — Mostly for his potential as a character.

• "King's Father" — He seems to travel alone in a chariot, so the descriptive term 'hermit' does seem to fit. This card often depicts a star which fits the astronomical symbolism found in King's orginal home. There is also a lot of potential for him as a character. (We really don't know much about this guy, so he's kinda a wild card.)

Card 11 — Justice

Keywords of "Justice":

• UPRIGHT: Justice, fairness, truth, cause and effect, law, clarity, karma, consequence, honesty, integrity

• REVERSED: Unfairness, lack of accountability, unaccountability, dishonesty, injustice, retribution, corruption

Candidates for "Justice":

• Augustus "Gus" Porter — Gus is a very juste and morally good character as we see in "Through the Looking-Glass Ruins". He has a very explicit moral compass in that episode, though he isn't flawless in that regard as shown in "Something Ventured, Someone Framed".

• Warden Wrath — He works as an enforcer for the Emperor's Coven.

• The Coven Heads — Mostly for their potential as a characters.

• The Emperor's Coven — They are basically the police system of the Boiling Isles, just extremely corrupt and founded/controlled by Emperor Belos.

• "Statue of Hekate" (S1E19)

Card 12 — The Hanged Man

Keywords of "The Hanged Man":

• UPRIGHT: Pause, surrender, letting go, new perspectives, sacrifice, release, martyrdom, waiting, uncertainty, lack of direction, contemplation

• REVERSED: Delays, resistance, stalling, indecision, needless sacrifice, fear of sacrifice, avoiding sacrifice, disinterest, stagnation, standstill, apathy

Candidates for "The Hanged Man":

• Augustus "Gus" Porter — Gus did sacrifice quite a bit during his episodes like "Something Ventured, Someone Framed" and "Through the Looking-Glass Ruins". In the latter episode, he expressed the desire to learn new kinds of magic.

• Raine Whispers — Raine sacrificed themself for Eda in "Eda's Requiem" and created the BATS, a resistance movement against the Emperor. So, they fit quite well.

• King — Mostly for his potential as a character.

• Hunter — Mostly for his potential as a character (e.g. Titan Sacrifice Theory).

• The Bat Queen — Mostly for her potential as a character.

• "King's Father" — Mostly for his potential as a character.

Card 15 — The Devil

Keywords of "The Devil":

• UPRIGHT: Shadow self, attachment, oppression, addiction, obsession, dependency, excess, powerlessness, limitations, restriction, sexuality

• REVERSED: Independence, freedom, revelation, release, releasing limiting beliefs, reclaiming power, reclaiming control, exploring dark thoughts, detachment

For people who do not have much knowledge of tarot and this card, I should explain something. This card does NOT stand for a literal devil or an evil person. The most common and basic description for the card is about an unhealthy bond with someone or something that's (usually) not for the greater good like an addiction, an obession or a toxic relationship. This card also symbolizes instant gratification, even if it is at the expense of your long-term well-being.

Candidates for "The Devil":

• Hunter — Hunter has clearly a very unhealthy bond with Emperor Belos. This is especially shown in "Eclipse Lake" and how badly the relationship to Belos affects him (Hunter literally dug his own grave due to the negative influence Belos had on his sense of worth). Also, both the upright and reversed keywords of this card do fit him quite well. He is a powerless witch that works for the restrictive and opressive Emperor's Coven and is dependent on Emperor Belos in regards to his own self-worth. And we know from "Hunting Palismen" that Hunter wishes some personal freedom and independence for himself (especially regarding his future). There is also the potential of Hunter's possible redemption arc in S2B and his breakaway from Belos.

• Emperor Belos — Emperor Belos is a dictator that causes a lot of opression and limitations on the Boiling Isles. His relationships with characters like Lilith, Kikimora and Hunter and his treatment towards them is quite unhealthy and even abusive. He himself is also very dependent on the essence found within palismen for his well-being. (So, most of the upright keywords fit him quite well.)

• Alador & Odalia Blight — Like Emperor Belos, Amity's parents are quite unhealthy people to be around (especially Odalia). This was shown in regards to their treatment of Amity. They also seem to be quite materialistic which this card can symbolize.

• The Titan — Mostly for his potential as a character and his design.

• "King's Father" — Mostly for his potential as a character and his design (a horned demon with wings).

Card 17 — The Star

Keywords of "The Star":

• UPRIGHT: Hope, faith, purpose, renewal, spirituality, rejuvenation, inspiration, positivity, healing

• REVERSED: Lack of faith, faithlessness, discouragement, despair, hopelessness, self-trust, disconnection, insecurity, negativity, despondent

Candidates for "The Star":

• King — King is quite interesting character. We know his hopes in regards of meeting his father. He also felt a lot despair and distress due to absence of his father. In his original home, there is also a lot of astronomical symbolism like stars.

• Augustus "Gus" Porter — Gus is a very positive character. And he has insecurities and he felt discouraged in "Through the Looking-Glass Ruins".

• Hunter — In "Eclipse Lake" Hunter is shown in his most despaired state so far, as well as his mindset in regards to one's purpose. He has also a lot of potential as a character.

Card 21 — The World

Keywords of "The World":

• UPRIGHT: Completion, fulfilment, wholeness, integration, achievement, accomplishment, travel, sense of belonging, harmony

• REVERSED: Incompletion, feeling incomplete, seeking personal closure, lack of closure, lack of achievement, short-cuts, delays, emptiness

Candidates for "The World":

• The Boiling Isles — The main setting of the series.

• The Titan — The Titan makes up the Boiling Isles which is the main setting of the series.

• The Bat Queen — Mostly for her potential as a character and her design.

• "The Collector" — Mostly for her potential as a character and her design.

If any of you have other suggestions regarding the remaining cards and the placement of the characters, please let me know. I would love to hear your ideas. :)