#verse;; searching for the truth

[emmetrain]

Starter for @ypokosmo-theos

Someone had been seen in the caves, a rumor passed. Whether it would be real or not, useful or not, dangerous or not mattered not to Emmet. It was a lead, as empty as any he had all these years. Every single day, an agony. Every single day, the probability of Ingo returning safe and sound decreased.

And Emmet could do nothing but watch, trapped in this hourglass against his will; the sand suffocating him and any hope he clawed and thrashed so hard to hold onto.

The clothes cut out of the identifying stripes and symbols of the gear station hung onto his thin, malnourished body loosely as Emmet drew near the cave. The mask hiding the smile that was nailed onto his face. His hair, a mess, but not enough to hide the sunken, lifeless eyes he carried.

Even if this was not a lead, it would be someone doing something illegal. Someone fair game to take out his frustrations on. Anything to take his mind off the misery, of the torture of waiting around useless.

Haxorus and Eelektross kept a summon away, as he stormed the cave, reflective eyes piercing the darkness.

"Face me, and no harm will come to you. I have questions," Emmet addressed the emptiness reflected in his soul, his voice as low as the slight growl in it let him. "Try me, and you won't like it."

When did he become so cold? He knew not.

Only thing for sure: he would not leave without some answers.

[calamitys-child]

Flint is Highwayman by the Highwaymen and Madi is Highwomen by the Highwomen but unfortunately Silver is The Pilgrim by Kris Kristofferson

[detective-taeko]

Privately, she very much would like to get a meal with someone.

[turnabovt]

TAG DUMP !

[justana0kguy]

2023 JULY 04 Tuesday

"Search me, O LORD, and try me; test my soul and my heart.

For your mercy is before my eyes, and I walk in your truth."

~ Psalms 26:2-3

[kamipyre]

@rippleofwords sent in: talk about hyuk || the paper machine's gossip session ( ft. talk about meme )

send “talk about-” and a name for my muse to talk about that person!

embers verse:

“…He reminds me of my old colleagues.” Not that he’s actually heard her talk about them, save for, maybe Edgeworth. It’s okay- he doesn’t really talk much about his colleagues back in Seoul anyways. Maybe she wants to keep it that way since well, even if the corruption is weeded out of the LAPD, they’ll never be able to go back to the way things were before. Detective Lee ( @jeoseungsaja ) might be able to do in Seoul, but not hers. Deft fingers press along the fold. “They have a better sense of humor than he does, but he has a similar drive.” The exacting drive demanding nothing more and nothing less than the truth. The recklessness and sheer force to get the desired results. The hardheadedness. She sees them all in Detective Lee, the ghost of friends long gone, never to return…or maybe their spirit, the true nature of the LAPD,  is simply being passed down from one generation to the next. Either way, she makes another fold. This one is going to be a pigeon. “Is he done with questioning Mister Trevor?” That’s the parrot the court is bringing in as a witness for next week’s trial. “He said he had more PAPER for me!”

black knight verse:

 “I deserve a pay raise.” Not that her current salary is terrible- actually, it might be more affordable, living in Seoul rather than in LA. At the very least, she doesn’t need to give up half of her paycheck to cover rent…although then again, it can’t be traditional, living in her current boss’s apartment. One may say it’s even unprofessional…and she might agree if not for the fact that he’s hardly ever in there to begin with. The couch in the office is his actual bed these days. “No one told me I was going to have two jobs while I was here- he needs to find something to do outside of his job. At the rate he’s going, I’ll surprised if he makes it to the end of the year-“ Not that, mind you, she’s going to let him deteriorate to that point. Jae Hwan won’t let that happen either, but it doesn’t change that Lee is barreling in that direction and there’s so much either of them can do to slow his descent. And the quickest way to do that is get to the bottom of the case- if only pleasing him was as simple as pleasing the Pigeon Man…all that guy needs is a bag of seeds and the pigeons. Nevertheless, her eyes soften as she sets her folded report on the desk. “…It’s not like the truth is going to change anything.” But he’s going to go for it anyways, won’t he? Find out the full story or die trying. She doesn’t know the whole story behind this all-consuming desire, no one does and Lee isn’t planning on changing that but…

“I want answers.” Not only to figure out the irritating conundrum of the case, but also set Lee’s ghosts to rest. It’s hard to live one’s own life, when the ghosts of those beloved have not been properly buried.

She would know that BETTER than anyone else.  

[mizp-m-archived]

VERSE TAGS

verse tag page still pending.

🌸 ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 🌟 * ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * :: ( Verse tag pending ) :: A new story to explore,

🌸 ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 🌟 * ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * :: ( Main ) :: there’s gotta be something here worth fighting for,

🌸 ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 🌟 * ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * :: (S. Leveling verse ) :: Bottle up the memories and let them keep me company,

🌸 ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 🌟 * ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * :: (F.G. Order ) :: I’m here in search of your glory. There’s been a million before me,

🌸 ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 🌟 * ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * :: (F. C. In the Lostbelt ) :: Come and take me away. From all the things I’ve ever known,

🌸 ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 🌟 * ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * :: (J.j Kai.sen ) :: I don’t mind if you fuck up my life,

🌸 ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 🌟 * ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * :: ( Rw.by ) :: Redemption lies plainly in truth,

🌸 ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 🌟 * ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * :: ( H. Impact 3rd ) :: Unaware I’m tearing you asunder,

🌸 ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 🌟 * ﾟ･｡ * ｡ ☆ * :: ( G. impact ) :: It all starts today . I'm letting go of all my mistakes,

[daisynik7]

“S&M” by Rihanna for Toji Fushiguro - smut

S&M

I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it. Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.0k

cw: smut - PIV sex (doggy style), cunnilingus, mild S&M practices - whips, blindfold, handcuffs, protected sex (for once lol), use of safe word, rough sex, pet names (cutie, sweetheart)

Summary: You are next-door neighbors with a man named Toji Fushiguro. You don’t know much about him, except for the fact that he’s a divorced father who spends every other weekend with his young son, Megumi. On the weeks he doesn’t have him, you notice the same trio of women visiting his house. One night, his package gets incorrectly delivered to your door. Too curious, you walk over to return it, only to find the front door unlocked and a naughty secret to discover.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for the request anon! I love Rihanna, so it’s no surprise that she’s on the y2k karaoke party playlist! I personally am not well-versed with S&M practices, so this was an experience to write, definitely a little bit out of my comfort zone, but I hope it’s still okay! This is more on the milder side, I'm sure. Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated, thanks for reading! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

You’re not usually this nosey when it comes to your neighbors, but something about Toji Fushiguro draws you in. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a divorced dad who takes good care of his adorable son, Megumi. Or maybe it’s the mysterious trio of women who frequently visits his house on the weeks he doesn’t have his child. Or maybe it’s his obvious good looks and impressive physique that you can’t help but notice every time he steps foot outside. Whatever it is, whether it’s a combination of all of the above, you just can’t get Toji Fushiguro off your mind. 

On this particular Friday night, you’re staying in, binging a TV show with a glass of white wine in your hands and a frozen pizza that you just baked in the oven. There’s a knock on your front door, which surprises you because you aren’t expecting anybody at this hour. You give it a few moments, seeing if there’s another knock. When none comes, you get up to scope it out, finding a large package directly in front of you and a delivery truck driving off in the distance. You check the shipping label, reading Toji’s name on it instead of yours. You glance at his front yard, spotting his car parked in the driveway and no one else’s. His girlfriends must have already left; you noticed their vehicle earlier beside his. 

Not bothering to change into anything presentable, currently wearing your sweats and fuzzy slippers, you carry the wrongly delivered package to its rightful owner, hoping if you can find some truth behind your neighbor’s unique bi-weekly ritual. You’ve thought about it before, the most likely answer being a polyamorous relationship or group sex. Still, it’ll put your mind to rest to know exactly what he does in there when little Megumi is away and Toji is free to play. So, you carefully lift the box, which isn’t heavy, over to his front door, setting it down to ring the bell. You push the button, then notice that the door is already open, slightly ajar. Another ring, and no one comes, though you’re certain you hear movement inside. 

You should turn around. Go back home, sink into your couch, continue the night as normal. Yet, your feet guide you in, closing the door shut behind you, tip-toeing farther into the house, waiting to catch Toji in the act, whatever that could be. Eventually, you make it to the living room, where you stand in the doorframe, searching for your neighbor, who you find sitting on the couch with his shirt off, scrolling through his phone. 

You knock on the wall, announcing your presence. He looks up, confused, inspecting you carefully before saying your name. “What are you doing in here?” He’s way more cavalier than you imagined he’d be, which you’re thankful for. 

You present the box to him, a nervous grin on your face as you explain, “This just got delivered to my house on accident. I rang the bell, but no one answered. And your front door was open, so I figured I’d just come inside to give it to you.” It’s a poor excuse; you really shouldn’t have barged in without permission. 

He seems to buy it though, rolling his eyes, muttering, “Damn Kimi. She’s always doing that.” He approaches you, grabbing the box from your hands. “Thank you for getting this to me. Been waiting for it all night, so I was bummed it didn’t come in on time.” He sets it down on the floor, kneeling beside it, ready to unwrap. 

You search the room, trying to find any clues of what they could be doing inside here. It looks normal, nothing nefarious standing out. Slightly disappointed, you take this as your cue to leave, turning on your heel to make your way back home. Before you can, Toji calls out your name and asks, “Don’t you want to see the little present I got? After all, it was almost yours. Would have loved to see your reaction if you opened it by accident.” His tone is playful, yet there’s something wicked behind his words. Something naughty.

You swallow hard, mouth already salivating. This isn’t how you planned your night to go, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about it before. You face him again, stepping towards the box slowly, sitting on the other side. He uses a pocketknife to slice through the tape, eyes lighting up as he reaches inside, holding up his delivered item like a treasure. It’s a riding whip, soft leather on one end, handle on the other. He smirks at you, slapping it against his palm, making a loud crack sound. You jump up, startled by the noise. He barks a laugh at your reaction, laying the whip down on the coffee table next to him. He reaches in again, pulling out three sets of fuzzy handcuffs, twirling one around his fingers. “Damn, would have been fun to use these tonight.” Glancing over at you, legs squeezed tightly together, arousal seeping through your panties, he scans you up and down, giving you a wicked smile. “You want to try these out, neighbor? I promise, I’ll go easy on you.”

It's ridiculous, right? Completely silly and irresponsible for you to agree to this, right? You blurt out your answer before you can even contemplate those questions logically. “Yes.”

He chuckles, biting him lip, eyes focused on your loins currently throbbing against the fabric of your sweats. You really wish you dressed up now, but it doesn’t matter, as he commands you to, “Strip.”

Almost too eagerly, you obey, kicking your slippers off and undressing, starting with your shirt, which you toss behind your shoulder. He studies you carefully, eyes following your every move as you slip out of your pants, down to only your underwear and bra now. He licks his lips, stepping closer to you. “Yeah,” he purrs, breath hot on your skin. “This will definitely work.”

~~~

Within minutes, you find yourself naked in his bedroom, blindfolded, wrists handcuffed behind you, face buried into the pillow, and ass up, perfectly vulnerable for him to do as he pleases. The two of you establish a safe word: mignon, because he thinks you’re cute, and the filet mignon is his favorite cut of meat. He suggests several acts he wants to perform on you and lets you decide which ones you want to go through with. You make your choice, asking to be spanked with the new whip he received. Something about breaking in one of his new accessories turns you on. 

Not being able to see anything, you listen carefully to what he’s doing behind you. You hear him unwrap the condom wrapper, sliding the latex over his cock. Then, there’s a squelch, most likely the lube he’s pouring into his hand, coating his shaft with it. “Are you ready, cutie? I’m going to start with the whip first, okay?” You nod, heart pounding in your chest, nervous and thrilled all at once.

“Words, sweetheart. Use your words. I have to hear you say it.”

You swallow your spit, trying to speak coherently. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Good. That’s a good girl.” You feel the cool leather against your skin, anticipating it as he counts down. “Three, two, one.” Then, smack. It’s quick, painful for only a few seconds. You can tell he’s holding back, cautious of you. “Did you like that?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you say, wiggling your ass to him. “Give it to me harder.”

He chuckles, swearing under his breath. “Fuck, okay. I’ll go harder then.” He counts down once more, the slap definitely more intense this time. Your skin stings from the contact and it feels like you’re already gushing from your cunt, core tight with pleasure. 

He continues this until he’s delivered ten smacks to each of your ass cheeks. Your body is sweltering now, the skin on your ass surely hotter than the rest of you. Your pussy flutters, aching to be filled, clit throbbing, desperate to be licked. “Toji,” you whimper, drooling from the sides of your mouth. “Fuck me.”

There’s that laugh again, low, taunting, so fucking sexy. “Not yet. Want to make you come before I fuck this pretty cunt.” He positions himself beneath you, between your legs. “Fuck my face. You can be rough with me. I can take it.”

His grip is firm on your hips, guiding you as you ride him, spreading yourself over his wide tongue and gaping mouth. He’s eats you better than any guy you’ve ever fucked before, sloppy and wet, as if he thoroughly enjoys slurping at your juices. He slides his hands over your ass, massaging the skin made raw from his spanking. And before you get a chance to warn him, you come all over his face, gushing into his mouth. 

“Fuck yeah,” he muffles, lapping up your slick. “So fucking good for me.”

Desperate now to be filled, you beg, “Please, Toji. Fuck me. Need you inside me.”

He slides out from beneath you, positioning himself behind you with his cock pressed between your ass cheeks. “I need it too, cutie. Need to pump my fat cock inside this perfect pussy.” He moans loudly as he slides himself inside you, stretching you out, inch by inch, until you swallow him whole. He thrusts into you, slowly at first while you adjust to his length. Gradually, he picks up the pace, pounding you hard and fast, his grip on your wrists, still bound by the handcuffs. The stretch in your shoulders is starting to burn now, arms pinned way back as he uses it for leverage. It’s not enough to coax the safe word out of you, yet. You need more of him to satiate this overwhelming desire.

“You’re taking it like such a good girl,” he moans, pumping himself into you. “Did you ever think about this before? Think about me?”

“Fuck yes. All the time,” you admit, drooling onto the pillowcase. 

“Shit, I knew it. I knew I should have slutted you out sooner,” he growls, bullying his way deeper. It’s almost too much. Almost. A couple more strokes and it actually is, your shoulders sore, nervous they’ll pop out of its sockets. You’ve had your fill of him, your guts feeling like they’ve been rearranged by his massive cock. You’re tempted to stay quiet, not wanting this to end just yet. But your body is begging you for a break. 

“Mignon,” you croak out, throat dry from the incessant moaning.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling out, immediately unlocking the handcuffs on your wrists and untying the blindfold. “You were taking that so good.” He flips you over on your back, inspecting you. For the first time since you started, you make eye contact with him, your heart swelling from the genuine smile on his face, gazing at you fondly. “Are you okay, cutie?” He brushes the tears from your eyes, cupping your cheek in his calloused palm.

You nod, mumbling an exhausted, “Yes,” closing your eyes to lean into his touch. 

He cuddles you, kissing your neck as he continues to stroke himself off. He trails down your chest, latching his lips around your nipple, sucking until he comes inside the condom. When he’s done, he removes it, tying the open end closed and tossing it into the waste basket next to him bed. 

It’s silent for a few moments as the two of you relax in each other’s arms. Eventually, he clears his throat to say, “This was fun. I usually don’t do this outside of the group.”

You understand that he’s referring to the trio of women who you saw earlier, and finally, the mystery is solved. Slightly disappointed, you respond, “I’m sorry if I messed anything up.”

He smiles at you. “You didn’t.”

You snuggle closer, kissing him softly. His lips melt into yours, tongue slipping inside your mouth. When you break apart, you ask, “Then, should I only show up when they show up?”

He shakes his head, smirking. “No. I think I want you as my own special plaything from now on.”

[copperbadge]

Hi, please ignore if this is too personal, but as someone with Jewish ancestors who is considering conversion, I'd love to know your reasons for converting? For me it's more about community and reconnecting with that part of my family (there's a complicated family history there) than about religious belief, but I'm worried that might not be enough of a reason, if you know what I mean?

I don't know, I think conversion to Judaism is hard enough that if you don't have "enough" of a reason, you'll find out -- but I also think that one doesn't have to have a "sufficient" reason to convert to any faith which allows it, just determination and respect. If you want a connection to your ancestors and community, that's a very powerful motivation. And if it's not enough to sustain you through conversion, that's still a huge self-discovery for you, and while some practice should remain closed, you can still connect through things like traditionally Jewish foods and appreciation for Jewish art and culture.

For me, it's not that it's too personal, but it's difficult to vocalize; often when I'm asked about converting there's an assumption that I'm marrying a Jewish person, and when I say no, I usually add, "I just hear a call." Which admittedly is much more often said by Christians joining a ministry, but it's the most truthful I know how to be in short. Something in Judaism speaks to something in me. I have very little Jewish ancestry (although every time the DNA websites reevaluate their calculations it ticks up a percentage point, which is hilarious to me; I'm up from 2% to 6% currently) but the attitude towards the divine, the strength of tradition, the respect for learning, they all speak to my soul.

Even the hard stuff -- content in Torah or Talmud that I find difficult to reconcile with modern sensibility -- is at least something to challenge me, and Judaism is a faith that encourages argument, so I'm allowed to have a critical opinion of it. I think a lot about a quote I read from someone (possibly a reader, if so I am so sorry I can't find your name in my memory) who said, "I keep kosher, but sometimes I eat bacon when I'm mad at G-d." I think a lot about my Methodist confirmation class, where I was almost kicked out because I thought the Parable of the Wedding Feast was stupid and continued to argue against it after, realistically, I should have stopped; if it had been a class for a Bar Mitzvah, we might have been allowed to really examine it instead of glancing across it awkwardly and moving on. (As I found out years later, it was basically about how anyone can be a Christian but Jews should be punished for refusing to convert, so you know. Even as a kid I was very Jewish in my approach to theology and knew anti-Semitic propaganda when I heard it.)

I like that so many of the traditions involve things that I find compelling: bread, fire, water, the written word, the cycle of the harvest. I like that there's a search for truth and precision in Jewish scholarship, and that scholarship often seems to reward a neurodiverse approach to faith and study. As someone committed to philanthropy and versed in radical compassion, the exhortation to care for others baked into every foundational Jewish text is also very attractive. Some of the prayers I find viscerally satisfying (particularly the Traveler's Prayer, for some reason).

I find faith in a single divine entity extremely difficult, but one of the first things that got me to seriously consider Judaism (something I'd already been interested in) was being told that you can be an atheist Jew. To be able to commit to a faith community while still struggling with faith itself feels special to me. Whether a divine entity caused the miracle of the oil we celebrate this time of year is immaterial to me; the beauty of the narrative, the righteous rebellion rewarded with eight nights of light, is enough for me.

I might never finish conversion; realistically while I've done a lot of studying I still haven't worked extensively with a rabbi on a conversion path, and I do not call myself a Jew and won't until I complete conversion (I do observe a lot of the holidays and prayers, but mainly because that's generally advice to converts, so they can understand the demands of the faith and the myriad issues with being Publicly Jewish). But that's fine too; Judaism has been around for thousands of years, it'll wait for me, and if I never convert I'm still enjoying the journey.

[emmetrain]

@darkenedpunk061 asked;; ❛ are you sure this is a good idea? ❜

"The Sinnoh Trip? You see. There is... no clues on where my brother might be at, and the clock is ticking. I... I need to follow him, wherever he is. And people do not disappear into thin air. So, there has to be something bigger than we would expect at work here." Emmet pulls at his hair as he talks, eyes focused on nothing in particular.

"I need to get up in that mountain and see if any of the Sinnoh legends hold merit. You know. I need to understand. No one will help me. Not that... Not that people aren't kind. All help is welcome, even if they are utterly useless tips or..." He shrugs. "Don't worry about me. I will be OK. I have both my and Ingo's Pokemon to support me as I go climbing. What's the worst that can happen?..."

[ihaveatypeanditstrickstergods]

There is an old folk song that is sung in Exandria.  It goes by a lot of titles--In Marquet it’s commonly known as The Liar’s Love, while natives of Xhorhas would know it as The Fey Groom, and the elves of Syngorn’s version has a title that translates to “The Sacrifice of Truth for Love.”

It is a story ballad that tells the story of a fey who journeyed to the Material Plane in search of stories (interestingly, the Dwarvish version here uses a word that translates closer to “truth” than “story” and shares a root with their word for “news”).  While there, the fey meets and falls in love with a brilliant woman from a city in the clouds.  The two are happy together, until a day that the woman’s brilliance backfires, and the fey, who had left his home out of admiration for the stories created by mortals living their lives, chooses to forge false stories of his own to protect her.  The two are driven apart by this deception, until one day the city in the clouds begins to fall.  In her brilliance, the woman is able to save it, but nearly falls in the process--until the fey speaks one last truth to inspire her to finish (the version from the Dwendalian Empire has an extra verse where while the fey is able to help the brilliant woman save the city, the two still die shortly after).

The origin of the song is unknown--there are variations from all over the world, and no one has ever been able to determine which version came first.  The lyrics’ reference to a city in the clouds has led some scholars to speculate that the song may be referencing events of the Age of Arcanum, but most consider that unlikely.  After all, there are many stories in Exandria of a mortal stumbling into the Feywild and falling in love with some enchanting faerie they met there, but there are almost no stories of a fey who came to the Material Plane and fell in love.

[detective-taeko]

golden-hearts-muses

Feelin' lonely? Perhaps I may offer an occultist to come and provide company??

“That would be... quite welcome, I think. I would order in some pizza too, if she would like it.”

Plus the detective had a craving for pepperoni right about now--

[bunnyreaper]

speak now

pairing - john price x f!reader

wc - 2k

warnings - weddings, possibly unrequited love, exes, post-break up, jealousy, swearing, wee bit of angst

notes - more price because i am falling hard for this man and no one and nothing can stop me? taylor swift inspired as always!

read pt2 here! have a request? drop it on me! or read this fic on ao3!

John Price is well-versed in holding himself back. As an army man and trained operator, he usually has an unbreakably tight grip on his own self-discipline. 

Those traits were things John would hold dear about himself, hold to be true and unwavering—until recently, just under a year ago now.

That's when everything started to crumble.

The task force's recent mission had gone surprisingly well, and John had found his cigar intake was less than usual and his lungs were happier for it—fortune was smiling down on him, until he got that news . 

You'd shown up after your leave, an unmistakable brightness in your step... and a rock on your finger. 

John remembers the way his jaw clenched as he bit his tongue and forced a half smile onto his face. 

"Congratulations, love." He whispers, pulling you in for a hug—he allows himself that much at least, even if this only serves to test his resolve even further. 

The way you feel in his arms, the way you clutch at his neck, the familiar smell of your perfume—it almost pushes him to the edge, almost pushes him to tell you that you're making a mistake. Why won't you just come back to me?

Your bodies fit together so perfectly, like they always did, just for the briefest of moments.

"Thanks, John." You say as you pull away, your voice wavering as you desperately search his eyes for his approval. 

He knows what you're looking for, and with all his aforementioned discipline, he forces his eyes to soften, forces himself into the shape of exactly what you seek as he speaks. "I hope he makes you very happy." 

A truth and a lie. A double-edged sword. 

"Yeah." The way your posture shifts suggests to John you were expecting another response, it doesn't go unnoticed by him as you continue. "Me too." 

The silence stretches on, and John's skin starts to itch, the words start to bubble up and tickle his tongue—they're right there.

He can't say them, shouldn't say them, won't say them.

"Better go tell the boys then." He adds, clapping your arm in a friendly gesture and dismissing you, because he knows you're at least kind enough to give him the courtesy of letting him know first. 

And he urges you to leave because he needs you gone, he needs to process.

"Yeah, gotta ask Johnny to be my maid of honour." You laugh, and the melody only makes his chest ache more. 

***

You'd given him more outs, more opportunities to speak up time and time again, yet he hadn't taken any of them. 

You asked him directly if he would be there long before sending the invites, to which he'd stupidly replied of course before you could even finish your worried thoughts. 

Not only that, but you double-checked his invitation response to make sure he wasn't bringing a plus one, almost as if you wanted him to have someone there. He had no one he wanted to bring. 

You'd gone out of your way to not discuss wedding planning in front of him, and had diverted conversations away from the topic if you knew he was in earshot. You were trying to make this as painless as possible for both of you, and he could tell. 

Why couldn't he just move on? Why couldn't he just be your friend? Better yet, why couldn't he just be honest about how he felt?

"Is this... weird for you?" You ask one day as the two of you sit together in silence as you scribble away inside a planner.

He knew you were working on arrangements for the wedding, but had sat beside you anyway, and had asked questions he didn't really want the answers to just because he knew you wanted him to care, to be okay with it. 

"No, darling." He lies, the words coming out in an instant, the pet name a relic of the past he can't let go of. "Is it weird for you?" 

Suddenly, you can't meet his eyes and your fingers still, no longer writing whatever it was you were. "I don't know. I know it shouldn't be." 

It's weird because it's wrong, John notes in his head. It's weird because it should be us planning our wedding together.

His eyes are fixed on you, waiting for you to look up and hoping you'll finally see the way he still looks at you. Hoping you'll take one look at his sorry state and realise this whole thing was a terrible mistake. 

"What yer talking about?" Soap swings a leg over the chair beside John, severing the moment in two, dashing any hope he had.

You feel the snap too—the awkwardness, the forbidden in where the moment was heading, as you rush to divert Soap from the truth. "Wondering if I can convince you to wear a dress." You smirk.

"Want me to steal yer thunder, bonnie?" He chuckles and winks.

Your eyes roll back, yet a smile pushes through, and whatever you were thinking about is pushed from your mind. "You can certainly try, Johnny boy." 

John excused himself after that, having to take a moment to remember how to breathe. This had all gone too far, and yet he can't bring himself to do anything about it. It wouldn't be right, it would be selfish, and that was the one thing he'd tried not to be.

That's why he'd ended it with you in the first place. 

He'd told you back then that you deserved better, and yet now he wishes more than anything he could have swallowed those words.

Now he's choking on them.

Here he stands, in the front row of the ceremony room, feeling entirely helpless and consigned to his grim fate.

Your future husband is standing just a few feet away, looking fucking smug. John's skin crawls looking at him, just as it always has. 

Was it a legitimate feeling about the man, or just the fact he was dating you? Marrying you?

Regardless, right now all John wants to do is give in to the itch in his fists, lunge across the aisle, and tell him to just let you fucking go, let you come back where you belong. 

Really, he knows he's only got himself to blame—he was the one who let you go, practically pushed you away. Always self-sacrificing, John Price, even to his own detriment, even when it means letting the love of his life walk away into the arms of another man.

An undeserving man at that.  

As John is practically staring daggers into your fiancé's brain, the man stares back, the smug smile now directed at John—because he knows that John is seething. He knows he beat him, got the girl, got the life John wanted. 

John's not entirely beaten. He's still here, after all.

The fiancé's little plan to get John uninvited almost ended the entire wedding. God damn the power of love and compromise, as now John has a front-row seat to his worst nightmare. John hates that he wishes that argument had been the end of it all.

He's braved the battlefield, stared death in the face, and yet this, this feels like the gravest end, the death of something more meaningful than just his mortal life.

The two men's standoff is broken by the sound of doors opening, and the harpist in the corner strumming her instrument to life and filling the room with an angelic melody. It's still not enough to cut through John's mood and spare him from his festering regret. 

The processional goes by without a hitch—the groomsmen, the bridesmaids, Johnny, all making their way down the aisle with fond, celebratory smiles on their faces. John isn't blind to the waver in Johnny's smile when he meets his subordinate's eyes.

And then everyone turns. 

His eyes land on you, his breath vacating his body, his heart lurching, his spirits soaring—you're just so breathtakingly beautiful .

Everything he ever envisioned, when he dreamed of being the one waiting for you at the end of the aisle. 

He prickles, knowing the dress isn't what you wanted, but your fiancé's mother's dream instead. He hates knowing under the ivory gown you're walking on uncomfortable heels at someone else's insistence, with a man by your side partaking in traditions you hate. 

It's your wedding day in name only.

He's transfixed as you move closer and closer, lost in memorising your face as a blissful smile overtakes your features. He wants you to be happy, in many ways, yet maybe his heart is fighting so hard because he knows you'd be happier with him .

Your eyes meet John's as you near the end of the aisle. Your feet stall, your expression drops. Tears streak down John's cheeks, tracking their way to the pained smile on his lips—the sight of which burns right through you. 

He watches as your fiancé's father urges you on, and you take your final few steps to the front, standing before your husband-to-be as you look over each other. Dry eyes, John notes to himself bitterly as everyone in the room takes their seats.

The officiant begins to speak, but the words are beyond John's comprehension, all he can focus on is you—the soft rise of your chest in the lace bodice, the blue pearl earrings dangling from your lobes that were a gift from Johnny. He remembers helping the man pick them out, unbeknownst to you.

What strikes him most is the look in your eyes, yet he doesn't trust himself to accurately assess what lurks behind them—maybe he's just seeing what he wants to see—dullness, pain.

It's nothing like the looks you gave each other when you were still together, not filled with nearly as much love, or reverence, or joy. 

Your eyes aren't filled with tears like he expected, as he recalls one day the two of you laid in bed together, whispering sweet nothings. You'd commiserated in the fact that you both knew you'd be blubbering messes on your hypothetical future wedding day. 

It wasn't meant to be that boy up there, holding your hands and waiting to slip a ring on your finger—it was meant to be him, John.

The world around him comes back into focus as the words ring around him.

"As they say, speak now, or forever hold your peace." 

There's a silence, every thought and impulse in John's mind wages war on itself as he forces himself to his feet and all eyes turn to him. 

He doesn't notice the horrified looks, the concerned shock from the 141 boys, or the way Simon's hand tugs at his sleeve. 

All he's looking at is you, the spark that ignites within your eyes. 

He has to force himself to speak, his voice coming out gruffer, more emotional than anyone who knows the man has ever heard, as the words tumble from his lips. 

"Y/N, don't do it." 

[fairygeek777]

The parallels my mind is making from Anya to Mamoru. A.k.a Princess Anastasia and Prince Endymion:

Teenage orphans with lack of identity due to memory loss.

Growing up having dreams every night connected to a life they used to have where they were royalty until their kingdoms fell to war and rebellion:

Music box that triggers their memories:

Context: I ended up having a lot of songs from the Anastasia musical on my playlist and one of the songs In My Dreams is just feeding my Mamo brainrot because, change a few lines and he could sing this.

[Diaclaimer, I haven't watched the musical but judging from the songs, I'd say it does not end the same way the movie does, so the parallel I'm making is mostly referring to the Don Bluth film with exception of this song from Broadway]

First verse:

'They said I was found

By the side of a road

There were tracks all around

It had recently snowed

In the darkness and cold

The wind in the trees

A girl with no name

And no memories, but these

Rain against a window

Sheets upon a bed

Terrifying nurses

Whispering overhead

“Call the child Anya

Give the child a hat”

I don’t know a thing before that'

Mamoru parallel:

Woke up in a hospital at age 6, doesn't recall his name or parents, nurses trying to figure out what to do with him.

Then this verse:

'You don’t know what it’s like

Not to know who you are

To have lived in the shadows

And travel this far

I’ve seen flashes of fire

Heard the echos of screams

But I still have this faith

In the truth of my dreams

In my dreams

It’s all real

And my heart has so much to reveal

And my dreams

Seem to say

“Don’t be afraid to go on

Don’t give up hope

Come what may”

I know it all will come back

One day'

Mamoru parallel: Do I need to explain? He's definitely had these very words going through his mind for the last 10 years of his life.

And then the parallels between Usa and Mamo and Dimitri and Anya:

Don't get along with their love interest at first:

They fall in love as they "search for" a missing princess:

Love interest turns out to be someone they knew from their past:

They regain their memories, decide to give up royalty in favor of a life with love interest. (Give or take 100 years in Usamamo's case)

But also Anastasia is just a movie I've loved since I was a kid. And I'm honestly just really intrigued by the story and how a mystery from real life history, has turned into a beloved fictional romance.

The Sailor Moon parallel is just my mental illness 💀

[stargirlaveblog]

7Seals

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Chapter 5*

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• Previous Chapter: Chapter Four Next Chapter: Chapter Six

• New chapters every Thursday •Content: Levi Ackerman x OC female. Slow Burn! Canon verse!

• Word Count: 1.6k • Warning: This content may not be suitable for all readers. If you've watched all of AOT then you will understand that the show handles heavy subjects such as abuse, racism, violence, and other heavy subjects. This fanfiction will also have the same heavy themes. Chapters with heavy themes will be marked with * at each chapter.

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The air in Alexander's quarters hung heavy, once again I felt like an uninvited guest. His desk, cluttered with maps and scouting reports, he sat there staring at it all not saying a word to me. As I stood there, the room felt smaller, suffocating under the weight of unsaid words. It was time I finally stood up for myself.

"So, are you going to ignore me or are we going to talk about it like adults?" I finally broke the tense silence, eyes fixed on Alexander, who sat at his desk, avoiding my gaze.

"What is there to talk about, Iris?" he replied, finally looking up at me. His eyes, once warm, now held a cold distance.

"Oh, I don't know," I retorted sarcastically. "Maybe all the crap you said yesterday in Erwin's office?"

"Everything I said was true. I don't know what else you want me to say," Alexander stated, his tone unyielding.

"Maybe congratulations? Can't you be proud of me?" I shot back, frustration seeping into my voice.

"Proud?" He laughed bitterly. "Why would I be proud? If anything, I'm disappointed in you. I'm the best captain you will ever have. You're going to die by his side just for some title."

"You're just envious it's not you," I accused, desperation creeping into my voice.

"Like I'd want to work under that idiot," Alexander retorted, his bitterness palpable.

"Why are you so bitter?" I cried out, my emotions getting the best of me. "You've been so uptight the moment he entered the regiment."

"I'm keeping my guard up. Why should I trust a thug?" Alexander defended, his walls firmly in place.

"He's not a bad guy, Alexander. If you just took a moment out of your day to talk to him like he's a human being, you'll see," I pleaded, hoping to break through the barriers he had built.

"Oh, and when did you find the time to have a heart-to-heart with him? Sneaking out with that little rat when I'm not around?" Alexander accused, getting uncomfortably close.

"Don't you dare lie to me. I know you guys were together the day the wall fell."

"What? You have people spying on me now?" I scoffed. "I showed him around town. I treated him like a human because none of you will. That's all."

"So, you are cheating on me with that rat," Alexander laughed bitterly. "How embarrassing."

I rolled my eyes at his extreme accusation.

"You know what, Alexander?" I retorted. "You're embarrassing. Treating someone like they're scum, like you're better than them."

"You're not denying that you cheated on me," he argued.

"I'm not doing this with you right now," I said, attempting to walk away. However, he grabbed my wrist, yanking me back towards him. The painful grip on my wrist made my irritation flare.

"Iris, we need to talk about this, remember?" he demanded, his eyes searching for any sign of guilt in mine. It was like he was mocking me.

"No, we don't," I replied, trying to pull away. His grip tightened, and I winced, the physical pain mirroring the emotional turmoil.

"Stop avoiding the truth, Iris," he insisted, frustration clouding his expression. But I couldn't handle this now; the accusations, the hurtful words—he was pushing me too far.

"I shoulda known, you do have a thing for superiors."

"Let go of me, Alexander," I asserted, my tone firm. But he held on, and the tension in the room escalated, the air thick with unresolved issues.

"I didn't say you could go anywhere," he said, forcefully pulling me closer, his grip on my wrist unyielding.

"Let go, Alexander," I insisted, attempting to retrieve my arm, but his hold only tightened.

"You tell me right now." His voice, once firm, escalated in volume. "Did you cheat on me?"

His eyes darkened, and he inched closer, the anger palpable in the air.

"Alexander," I pleaded, meeting his angered gaze. "You know I would never do that."

Feeling small under his towering presence, his eyes bore into mine with undisguised disgust. His anger radiated through my wrist, a painful reminder of his grip.

"You fucking whore," he spat at me, the words hitting like a physical blow.

Tears swelled in my eyes as he regarded me with disdain. I couldn't speak, couldn't move. This feeling was all too familiar.

"Hey! You guys in there?" A voice interrupted from the other side of Alexander's door.

"Levi's looking for Iris!" Hange's voice rang out after a few knocks.

"Yeah, she's with me. She'll just be a second," Alexander called out with a sudden calmness, a stark contrast to his recent anger. But just as quickly, he reverted to being mad at me.

His voice lowered, and his grip tightened even more than I thought was possible.

"Dry those tears," he growled. "Lover boy is waiting for you."

He dropped my wrist, and I continued to stare at him. Locking eyes, I wiped away my tears and left his room without a word.

"Finally!" Hange exclaimed as I stepped out. "Levi and I have been looking for you all over." They rambled on, but their words were distant echoes in my mind.

I couldn't focus on anything Hange was saying. My thoughts lingered on what had transpired in Alexander's room.

"Hey, you!" Hange snapped their fingers in my face. "Why weren't you guys at breakfast?"

"Well," I started, attempting to find the right words.

"Oh!" Hange's voice squeaked. "I get it. You guys needed some alone time, huh?" They nudged me playfully, winking to imply more than I cared to entertain.

"Yeah, sure," I laughed it off, not in the mood for Hange's teasing or having to explain myself. No one needs to know.

"Well, Levi has been looking for you all morning. He's out in the barn cleaning equipment. I'd hurry if I were you," Hange advised.

"Yeah, thanks," I mumbled, feeling defeated.

"Also, find a good excuse to tell Levi why you're late!" Hange yelled after me as I walked away. I threw a thumbs up without turning back, my mind still clouded with the turmoil from Alexander's room.

The walk from the mess hall to the barn felt like a journey through the corridors of my own doubts. The emptiness around me mirrored the void Alexander's emotions had created. He, my supposed confidant, had become my biggest adversary.

"Your late for training, Aldridge," Levi's flat voice cut through my thoughts, making me jump. Another man's stern eyes replaced the lingering anger in my mind.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize the time," I replied, unable to meet Levi's gaze. Another set of emotionless eyes felt like too much to bear.

"After every breakfast, I expect you to be in the barn," Levi stated coldly, his tone cutting through the air.

I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eyes as he spoke. The weight of judgment, both from him and Alexander, pressed upon me.

"Get ready to spar on the training field," Levi ordered. I nodded, taking off my coat and rolling up my sleeves.

"Tch," I heard from behind me.

"What?" I turned to Levi, confused.

"Disgusting," Levi muttered, picking up my coat and throwing it at me. "Hang it up properly."

"Oh, right," I mumbled, taking my coat and hanging it beside Levi's on the wall. As I followed him to the training field, the weight of training felt heavier than usual.

On the field, the new recruits ran through their paces under Shadis's watchful eye. Nothing had changed with that man. He remained an ever-present figure, an unwavering observer of our struggles.

I felt a firm grip on my wrist, followed by a force that shoved me face-first into the dirt. The ground met my face, covering it in a layer of dust. Levi's presence loomed over me, an unyielding force.

"You would be dead right now if I was a real attacker. Pay attention," Levi's voice cut through my disorientation, his words echoing in my ear. I winced at the pain radiating from my wrist, but I refused to let it consume me.

Levi released his grip, allowing me to pick myself up, determination flickering in my eyes. Before I could ready myself for a counterattack, another strike found its mark. My feet were swept from beneath me, and I crashed back to the ground, gazing up at Levi.

"Get up," he commanded, his voice sharp. "Fight me again. We aren't stopping until you pin me."

The challenge hung in the air, and I pushed myself off the ground, fueled by a relentless determination. I don't need another man doubting me. Levi hand picked me for some reason right? Or was it actually Erwin who picked me?

Why was I even picked? I can't fight, Alexander's right. I'm going to dead as soon as we step outside those walls. The only reason why I'm alive is because of Alex.

I felt my body lunge forward as I attacked the Levi with a ferocity that surprised even herself. Each strike was a release of the frustration and hurt. My wrist burned more but my mind just kept wandering.

Alexander is a petty man, just how long is he going to be mad? Will I have to leave the squad for him to forgive me? It was something I was scared to face. I fight titans for a living yet I'm scared of the man I love.

"You're wasting energy," Levi remarked, as he pinned me to the ground once again.

"A distracted soldier is a dead one. Clear your mind or you'll end up proving that shit bag right."

"My mind is clear, Levi." I said pushing myself off the ground.

"It's Captain." Levi's expression remained impassive.

"I wanted capable soldiers, not ones blinded by personal issues. Get your head straight, or you won't last long."

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[mxlfoydraco]

Which are the Drarry fic that you have re-read more than any other?

These are from my reread pile! The first four several times over. :)

Around You Moves by ignatiustrout (29k)

Harry knew Draco was gay when he invited him to move in. He’s never had a problem with this. So why does he feel so weird about Draco bringing men home all of a sudden?

Number Seven by sara_holmes (253k)

Harry already has small children, an ex-wife, annoying colleagues and an international crime ring to deal with. So when Draco Malfoy reappears after eight years AWOL in France, of course Harry is going to leave him well alone… Right?

Away Childish Things by lettered (153k)

Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

(The Piece) I was Missing All Along by lauren3210 (30k)

Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he's going to work to get it.

Temptation on the Warfront by alizarincrims0n (180k)

Draco Malfoy is forced into hiding with the Golden Trio and dragged into their search for horcruxes. What ensues is a journey of redemption, unexpected friendships and an unwanted, turbulent romance with Harry Potter. Warnings for swearing, sexual content, and dark themes.

Chaos Theory by Tessa Crowley (102k)

Chaos: when the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future. One gene varies, one neuron fires, one butterfly flaps its wings, and Draco Malfoy's life is completely different. Draco has always found a certain comfort in chaos. Perhaps he shouldn't.

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi (93k)

'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

Grounds for Divorce by Tepre (122k)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter. A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by @firethesound (2014, E, 150k)

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

Foundations!verse by Saras_Girl (364k)

Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (114k)

Professor Malfoy’s world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

What We Pretend We Can’t See by Gyzym (131k)

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

Here’s The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout (49k)

Harry thinks “Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?” is a much simpler question than, “Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don’t, what will you do?”

Turn by Saras_Girl (306k)

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Running on Air by eleventy7 (74k)

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

Such Great Heights by aideomai (93k)

Draco Malfoy, wide-eyed and pale and in a decidedly ragged shirt, was crouched next to the pile of whatever the dragon had been eating. Harry threw himself to a halt and yelled, “Merlin, how many times do I have to save your life?”

Dwelling by aideomai (83k)

Curses, James and Lily Potter ride again, several Ministry balls, a teenage Summer of Love, a grim young adult dystopian winter, a few different Draco Malfoys, secrets and the problems re: not having any, alternate lives, impossible lives, real lives, allusions to Dirty Dancing, and just because it's not called the Mirror of Erised doesn't mean you shouldn't know better.

In Pieces by dysonrules (85k)

Harry returns to Hogwarts as the new DADA instructor, only to find his teaching efforts thwarted by a very familiar ghost.

An Issue of Consequence by Faith Wood (20k)

Draco has woken up in an alternate universe. Or he has woken up utterly insane. Nothing else can possibly explain why Harry Potter suddenly seems to think he's Draco's boyfriend.

Save My Wonders by sdk (21k)

Immediately chocolate assaulted Draco's senses. Warm melted chocolate mixed with his mother's roses and... something else. Something new. Freshly scrubbed skin and maybe a faint sheen of sweat. It was so familiar... And it only intensified when Potter came up behind him.

The Devil's White Knight by AngrySpaceRavenclaw/orphaned (64k)

When Harry wakes up in an alternate timeline--a timeline where Voldemort was defeated long before the first war--he discovers everything is different. His parents, his godfather, his friends--and him. Harry must deal with the consequences of who he would have been if he had been raised by his parents, and figure out where he stands with his casual hook up, Draco Malfoy.

What I thought by bafflinghaze (7k)

Draco thought they were in a relationship. Harry thought it was just sex.

The Little Marauders Nursery and Day Care by @digthewriter (9k)

Harry Potter is the proud owner of The Little Marauders Nursery and Day Care and his favourite student is Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius’s dad might be okay, too.

A Broken but Happy Sound by thusspakekate (7k)

Sometimes we do terrible things for no reason. Other times, we have terrible reasons.

Packing the Flat by marguerite_26 (6k)

Months after their explosive break-up, Draco insists Harry return to their flat to remove his belongings.