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mojogojocasahouse · 9 months

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Borrowed Time

Erwin Smith x f!reader

Summary: You've known Commander Erwin since he first enrolled in the Training Corps, and he's never been able to shake his feelings, despite his best attempts. When he wakes up after his limb-losing injury to you in his hospital room, he considers it may be time to give up thinking he can let you go.

Rating: E

Word Count: 4.9k

Content: angst, smut (oral f-receiving, vaginal sex, minor marking, Erwin makes having one arm work), Erwin still dies at the end, but soft moments with Levi make it worth it.

“It’s okay, Erwin…”

The pain was searing. When adrenaline had worn off and the battle temporarily won, it had rushed through him like wildfire sending him to his knees. His right arm was gone, and with it clearly his dignity for a moment. The world was hazy, voices sounding like they were screaming at him from where he lay drowning beneath the water, gentle fingers brushing over the hair matted to his forehead…

Stinging antiseptic was the first clue as to where he wound up. The plain walls and white sheets the confirmation. Captain Levi sat to his right, Commander Pyxis to his left, the company more than he was expecting. But they weren’t the only two in the room. You were in the doorway arguing with a nurse in a hushed tone, she must have done something you didn’t quite agree with. You were always the most stubborn person he’d ever known. And that was saying a lot, Levi was sitting right there.

“Why is she here?” Erwin asked in a hushed tone, waiting until you’d begun to retort the latest defense.

“You know why,” Levi replied flippantly, his gaze never lifting from the book that had been keeping him barely entertained.

The late morning light filtering in through the gauzy curtains had set you in a heavenly glow. Maybe it had been the brush with death or the pain meds no doubt coursing through his veins, but for a moment he allowed himself to consider the forbidden, to have what he’d forsaken all those years ago, to finally give in.

He’d met you as a new Scout recruit, you‘d run a shop stand he’d spent every spare penny he had at just for the chance to stop by. His time had been rarer than funds, however, and as his visits began stretching to longer intervals as he fought the beasts outside the walls, he’d assumed you’d move on, find someone who could dedicate the devotion and time he wished he could. But you never had. Weeks turned to months and yet every time he’d walked up you, that beaming smile that shined brighter than the sun had greeted him.

When Wall Maria fell, he’d ended it. Or at least he’d tried to. He needed to focus. He was the Commander now, lives depended on him. He couldn’t have his attention or allegiances split. Yet still he visited your stand, more out of curiosity, hoping to see a baby on your hip and a husband at your side. That was the life you deserved. It was one he could never give you.

You’d allowed him into your bed yet again just a few months ago. Letting him drown his sorrows in your body, take something that felt good for once. He’d had two arms then, both wrapping you up tightly as he drifted off to sleep surrounded by your cool sheets and the floral essence that somehow clung to your hair. The next morning though, it had all come crashing down.

“I can’t keep coming back here,” he’d said as you poured two cups of tea, turning with a knowing gaze to find him dressed and ready to leave.

“You say that every time, Erwin,” you’d replied with a smirk, “And every time you show back up.”

“I mean it this time. Go and move on.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“I wasn’t asking— “

“I’m not one of your soldiers you can order around, Commander.”

The venom in your tone had stung. You’d been standing, palms planted on the table as your eyes flamed with a rage that should never have burned in the quiet hours of the morning. He’d felt regret as he watched tears pool in your lower lids, your body shaking as you held back a wave of ire he knew he deserved.

“Why do you wait for me?” he’d finally asked, shoulders slumped, resolve more battered here and now than after any battle with a titan.

“Because I love you.”

In all the times he’d imagined someone saying those three words to him, he hadn’t envisioned it feeling as it had then. Not that he’d ever expected to find himself in this position, but dread had iced his veins, the hole opening in his chest like a beast’s mouth ready to devour him, you’d looked so beautiful, and he’d stood idly by like the villain he knew he was.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” you’d pressed, unwilling to let him continue masquerading in this charade, “Tell me you don’t feel the same, and I’ll do as you say. I’ll marry that nice barkeep from down the road. He’s been so insistent.”

He could still remember the tension in his jaw at your suggestion, the way his teeth had been gnashed together so tightly he swore a molar would crack. Nostrils flared, fists balled, he’d tried to will himself to lie. He lied constantly—to himself, to his soldiers, to his officers—why had this been any different? Falsity had become a second language, and this had required only a few words and no explanation, it should have been easy.

“Surely the Scouts’ fearless leader can find a few spare syllables,” you’d taunted, he loved that about you, “How do I compare to the monsters you face day after day? I‘m nothing to fear.”

You’d never been nothing.

Instead of releasing the cruel iron grip he had on your heart, he’d found himself once again buried to the hilt between your thighs. Perched on your kitchen counter, you’d whimpered as he’d sought refuge in you for what he thought would be the final time. He’d tried to memorize every sensation—your fingers tugging through his golden hair, your breathy moans hot on the shell of his ear, the way your thighs quivered around his waist as he slammed into you ruthlessly and without remorse until he was spilling across your stomach. A better man would have walked away.

For the first time in all the years of infrequent rendezvouses and goodbye kisses that lingered for too long, he’d finally allowed the truth to be uttered that day.

“I leave because I love you. I return because I’m selfish. But not anymore. This is through, I promise you.”

You’d thrown him out then, screamed at the top of your lungs, betrayal so heavy in your voice the weight almost sent him to his knees. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, with you half naked by his hand slumped on the floor, tears soaking the cheeks he’d long to see pressed in a smile again. It was, however, the ending he’d deserved.

“Hange called for her,” Levi continued, snapping him back to reality, “I’m surprised she showed up after the mood you came back in last time. I’d assumed it had finally ended.”

“As did I,” Erwin replied, doing his best to stomp on the hope fluttering in his chest.

The reflection staring back at him was damn near unrecognizable. Blond whiskers sat thin and patchy on his jaw, his hair unwashed and clumped around his face, a bloody bandage still wrapped around the stump of his right arm. He hadn’t emerged in days, the troops couldn’t see him like this, it would destroy morale, so he stayed hidden.

Three knocks roused him from his self-loathing, Levi stepping into the room after invitation.

“The stench coming from this room is deplorable, Commander” he uttered with disgust, the shadow of a person standing behind the Captain dancing on the walls, “And that beard looks ridiculous.”

“It’s not so bad,” you argued as you stepped into the room, giving Levi a mischievous smirk as you passed, “I can’t argue the smell though.”

“Fix him. Please.”

And with that the door closed, leaving you alone with Erwin for the first time since he’d been brought back on a stretcher. He’d been delirious at the time, muttering about attacks and a boy named Eren. It had taken a fair amount of effort to not read into the way he relaxed when you’d taken his hand, the murmuring had stopped, his head lolling towards you, the whisper of your name. It had been coincidence, nothing more but potentially less.

Despite being in the room when he’d woken for the first time, you hadn’t spoken to him. You’d been fretting over the choice of treatments, the bandages, arguing for the sake of distraction as he laid in limbo between life and death. The last words you’d said to him had been vicious and cruel, the haunting thought it would be the last he ever heard gnawing at you as you watched his chest shallowly rise and fall from afar. Levi had been quiet, ever watchful and intuitive, you’d met him a handful of times and were unaware of what he knew. From the way his eyes slyly followed you in those terrifying hours, it was safe to assume Erwin might also be just as in the dark as you regarding just how much the Captain of the Scouts was privy to.

“Did Hange send for you again?” Erwin asked, turning back to the mirror he’d been studying himself in, “I can assure I’m perfectly fine.”

“I have no doubts you are,” you agreed, “I came for my own peace of mind.”

You’d debated whether to check in on him for days. Your head had told you to let him rot in despair, your heart needing to see he’d pulled through. As always, your heart had won out.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you began, his scoff stopping you in tracks, the creases between his brow deepening as he scowled.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he lamented, his one arm now holding up upright on the edge of the dresser, “I deserved your words and much worse.”

With trepidatious steps you approached him, sliding your palms along his upper back before wrapping your arms around his middle, pressing your cheek to the valley between his muscled shoulders. You felt the shuddering exhale in his chest, and when you pulled gently to move him towards the small washroom in his quarters, he didn’t resist. You shaved him first at his meek and bashful request he felt no right to ask for, the feeling of your fingers so gently cradling his face releasing the knot of tension he’d been holding. He then allowed you to strip him down and settle him into the bath you’d drawn up. It felt unbecoming, but as your fingers began gliding soap through his hair, he didn’t care.

Perhaps in this moment he could be weak.

As you methodically worked, your face was so close to his as you continued to scrub, it was impossible to resist that which he always craved. Your breath hitched as his lips pressed to yours, the immediate tug of your bottom between his own causing a sopping went hand to cup at your jaw, he couldn’t lose this. Not yet. The water was cool as it dripped down the side of your neck, a stark contrast to the heat blossoming on your cheeks as you fell into the same snare that claimed you time and time again.

His kiss felt like home. The taste of whiskey lingered on his tongue as it met yours like an old friend, his nose pressing to your cheek as he sought more contact than the porcelain separating your bodies would allow. The water was tinged with blood from his severed limb, yet you still considered clambering into the water, the want to be pressed against his chest growing in your stomach and threatening to burst. With every meeting you’d had throughout the years, your need had always grown. Each night you spent with him made the wait until the next all the more impossible. Where once you could go weeks without desire creeping it, it had soon turned to days, and now after his brush with death, there was no stopping the raw, animalistic urgency making your nerves stand on edge.

“Get out of the water,” you begged into his open mouth, pulling him by the handful of hair you’d grabbed as your tongues had danced as they had so many times before, “Please, love.”

Out of everyone within these walls, the only person’s orders Erwin Smith would follow implicitly were yours. You wrapped a towel around his waist as he stepped out of the tub, his mouth still lazily dragging with yours as you pushed him towards the chair, the supplies to re-bandage his arm set out. Groaning in frustration, he sat, his hand tugging at the buttons of your shirt awkwardly until it slid down your shoulders. Concentrating on the task before you was far more difficult has his lips latched around your nipple, his tongue flicking the little bud until it was stiff and practically sore before moving to lavish the other with the same attention.

When he’d had his fill, he explored your ribs and shoulders with hot, opened mouthed kisses, your fingers barely able to tie the bandage that had taken you twice as long as it should have to apply. He’d mapped your body long ago, planned foolproof attacks, and struck with expert precision to every spot that made you sigh and whimper. It was strategic. The long game always the preferred method of attack.

“Lay down,” he instructed as you finished, his hand tugging your skirt down one hip, your own fingers finishing the job for him.

Your spine prickled with anticipation as you obeyed his order, his bed softer than you imagined military quarters to have. His blanket was cool and silky, a stark contrast to the fire burning beneath your skin. It didn’t matter you found yourself beneath him countless times before, each and every time had your body wracking with tremors in pure anticipation. Erwin never rushed. He always took his time from the moment his lips brushed yours until you drifted to sleep in his arms. This was no exception.

Modesty had gone out the window years ago; you laid waiting, your knees bent up and spread, his gaze transfixed on what you offered so brazenly to him. His steps were long yet slow, eyes inspecting, mind strategizing, it all sent butterflies erupting in your stomach and goosebumps rising on your skin. You’d positioned yourself for his most common attack, your bottom near the edge of the mattress, and he took the bait. Crystal blue eyes locked with yours as he dropped to his knees, your right leg being pushed towards your chest, your left following the ghost of a command to match.

“I have missed you, darling,” he purred against your inner thigh, inhaling deeply as his eyes fluttered closed.

“Prove it,” you taunted, the cool air chilling your damp skin.

Your cry of relief drowned out the gruff chuckle that rumbled through his chest. There was nothing timid about the way his mouth dove into you, seeking a taste of the sweetness it craved. He began at your opening, collecting what had begun to accumulate before pursing around your buzzing bundle of nerves. Had you ever allowed other men into your bed, you knew they wouldn’t compare to the man on his knees before you. He knew the exact variations in pressure that made you keen and the pitch of your breathy moans that instructed him to flick instead of press. It didn’t matter he likely shared walls with his comrades, they could listen as he wound you up closer and closer to euphoria with every swipe and swirl of the silver tongue that he’d persuaded them to forfeit their lives to the cause with.

The warm, wet heat of his mouth was overwhelming, maybe it was the residual anxiety of losing him or the thrill of being in the Scouts headquarters splayed open on their Commander’s bed. He drank from you as if his very will to live was found in arousal freely leaking, his tongue the only thing keeping the sheets from being coated in your slick. Soft, blond hair that was still wet at the root slid easily through your fingers as your slit slid over the crook in his nose, seeking just a little bit more as the elastic stretching in your core began to quiver, its reverberating snap just waiting for the right moment to release it.

“Stop holding back,” he commanded, lidded eyes as bright as the sky filled with intention snapping to your blackened irises, “I’ll remain here all night if I must.”

A tempting offer, but the severity of his tone and unwavering resolve to keep true to those words had the weight bearing down on your center exploding outward. Your back arched off the mattress, the grip in his hair tightening as a feral cry echoed off the walls as you went boneless. As you lay gasping for air, sweaty and limp, his lips pressed softly up your body, your hands shifting to gently cup his jaw as he moved to your mouth.

When he kissed you, his tongue heavy with your taste still; it made you feel like he was yours. His chin was still damp, eyes closed as he allowed his sense of touch to overpower him, and you swallowed the little muffled grunts of appreciation he breathed into your mouth greedily. On a normal day, you were a lowly shopkeeper from Wall Maria trying to still earn her place within Wall Rose, but with him, you were almost invincible.

Almost.

Instinctually, your hand went to grip his biceps, your left hand passing where his arm would be and landing on his side. He froze, his cheeks burning pink, muscles tensing, you could feel his entire body seizing up as his gaze averted to the pillow beside your head.

“Hey,” you cooed, once again cradling his face gently, “Erwin, love, look at me.”

He obeyed, his shame almost palpable as you smiled softly at him, propping yourself up just enough to pepper lingering, reverent pecks to the curve of his now-useless right shoulder. As you felt him relax, you continued over to his collarbone, suckling hard on his alabaster skin, lapping at the freshly sore spot before pulling away to marvel at your work. His skin immediately began to blossom, your eyes transfixed as you reached down and fisted his cock that sat heavily on your stomach. Just like every time before, his body shuddered, a blissful sigh hitting your lips before you kissed him again, enjoying his slow and sloppy response.

With your legs lewdly splayed, you notched him at your entrance, his hips pushing in immediately. Your cunt took him easily despite his intimidating size thanks to both his expert warm-up and years of acclimation. He’d always split you open in the most satiating of ways, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as you sighed when he bottomed out, the blond curls at his base scraping against your clit still sensitive from his tongue.

“You’re soaked,” he noted, and you laughed, pulling his forehead to yours humming in response, “I was a fool to think I could stay away.”

He gave you no time to retort as he slammed back into you hard enough to have you sliding up the bed. His pace was unforgiving, both knees know bent up under your ass for leverage as his fingers wound into your hair, tugging your head back enough to have you arched perfectly. Your nipples brushed over the soft hair covering his chest, your throat exposed for him to leave a claim of his own, your skin prickling and sore as he moved to whimper into your ear.

Every thrust had you seeing stars, his pinpointed accuracy finding the spot so deep he’d been the only man to ever find it. He’d prided himself on that, ensuring that you got the attention he believed you so wholly deserved. Even when he was rough, he was reverent, his fingers scratching soothingly against your stinging scalp between tugs, gentle kisses, sweet reassurances; you were the priority.

“Take me so well,” he sputtered, the wet squelching of your cunt around his girth almost drowning out his words, “Always so tight. So perfect…”

If you had the ability to form words, you would have responded with praise of your own, but a hoarse cry was all you could muster as you throttled his cock, clamping down as the dam holding back the pressure threatened to shatter.

“Such a good girl,” he continued, knowing exactly what his words would do, “My good girl.”

You’d known that for years, but it wasn't something either of you had been willing to admit. You were his and he was yours, whenever he could be, and no matter the limitations and long absences that’s how it always would be.

Thin, red lines decorated his back, the sound of skin slamming against skin waltzing with both of your whines and moans in the dimly lit space. He was battering into you now, chasing yours and his own release, your thighs wrapped tightly around his waist to keep yourself in place as best you could.

“Please, Erwin,” you begged, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as you teetered in the edge of overstimulated, “Please.”

Those little pleads were all he needed. His mouth captured yours again, his tongue running along yours paralyzed in anticipation as every one of your nerves seared and jolted. It rolled over you like the summer sun emerging from behind the clouds, slow and satisfying, your muscles clamping down before releasing, bliss washing over your spent, aching limbs. He followed not long after, spilling hot and thick along your stomach, your fingers absentmindedly swirling through the pearly liquid as he pulled away. They were replaced quickly with a warm, wet cloth, Erwin cleaning his mess and between your thighs gently before taking the opportunity to settle his head on your chest, your arms wrapping him up tightly.

“When Wall Maria is secured…perhaps I can…” he was slurring, exhaustion taking him hostage as the steady thud of your heart in his ear and the security of your hold lulled him to sleep.

“Sssh,” you stopped him, “Don’t.”

That would be an empty promise you wouldn’t survive being broken.

He woke first the following morning, arriving back at the room with two plates of breakfast as your eyes were fluttering open. Despite stopping him before he could utter the words, you’d dwelled on the thought of him leaving his post as Commander. He could train the new recruits, be home for dinner most nights and lying beside you in bed with a book before you silently debated who collapsed onto who to sleep. His life wouldn’t be threatened, and you’d no longer have to grapple with the hatred you felt for the man you loved risking everything for people who despised him.

The silence was heavy as you ate, your thoughts too preoccupied, and he noticed. He watched you like a hawk, trying to read you and failing, he probably didn’t even remember what he’d begun to promise in the haze of euphoria and exhaustion.

Before his duties began for the day, he walked you home, uncaring of the late arrival he’d have to his meetings with Levi, Hange, and other officials. On the street, there was no freedom to give anyone the idea it was anything more than a friendly Scout walking a woman home for safety, the risk too great you’d be used as fodder by anyone looking to exploit Commander Erwin’s one weakness. You offered him tea at the door to satisfy the curious ears, and he agreed he could stay for one cup, your mouths pressing together greedily as soon as the door clicked shut.

“Come back when you can,” you told him, a common phrase in the final moments.

“The moment I’m able to,” he promised. That was new.

Months later

Three slow raps at the door pulled your attention from the vegetables on your counter. The sun was beginning to set, broth simmering on the stove, a warm orange glow seeping in through the windows. It was an almost-perfect night by your standards.

Visitors were rare, in fact, you only ever had one. But he didn’t knock like that.

“Captain Levi…” you greeted, shocked as the small, raven-haired men came into view on your stoop, “Hello.”

“Hi,” he replied, Levi never one for words.

His gaze was focused on his boots, his shoulders slumped, you swore the lids of his eyes were rimmed with pink and swollen. As realization kicked in, a rock dropped into your stomach and bounced into your throat, the air you tried to breathe too thick for your lungs to take in.

“Erwin…” he choked, “He…”

“Lie to me,” you whimpered, tears welling in your eyes. There would only be one thing that had the normally stoic Levi feeling a semblance of emotion. “Please.”

Slate gray eyes stared at you, his nostrils flaring as he considered your request. You didn’t know Levi well, but you knew Erwin trusted him implicitly. And that was all that mattered to you.

“Commander Erwin…” he began, voice shaking but strong, “sends his regards and his regret that he’ll no longer be able to come and see you. His life belongs to the Scouts regiment, he can’t afford the distraction any longer.”

“Thank you.”

“One of the recruits will be over with some things later.”

Boxes of food were delivered by nightfall, no doubt Levi’s way of sending condolences as best he could. A small bag lay beneath enough potatoes to last you the next month at least, a small note scribbled on a shred of paper attached to the string cinching it together.

When you’re ready.

Months later, when life had returned to more of a normalcy than it had in years, Wall Maria standing once again and safety from the titans that lurked all but guaranteed, you finally pulled that small satchel from the highest shelf in your closet. Dust had accumulated, the note still sitting in the creases. Trembling fingers opened it, Erwin’s green-jeweled tie the first item in the parcel. Your fingers brushed over the cool metal, your fist gripping it like you had so many times before tugging his tall frame down for a kiss, memories you’d tried to keep suppressed for so long surging forward.

Three slow knocks echoed; you already knew who it was. You hadn’t spoken to him since the day he’d come to inform you about Erwin, but you’d seen him often in the streets. It had made you wonder if it was intentional on his part to linger nearby.

“Captain Levi…” you said quietly as you opened the door, his brow furrowing in confusion as your eyes met.

“There’s something I’d like to show you,” he said bluntly, “Something I know he’d…like you to see.”

You had to give him credit for maintaining the ruse.

Levi and three soldiers stood outside, a spare horse in the middle that you assumed was for you. Levi gave no hints as to where you were headed, but your heart began to hammer as you passed through the gates of Wall Maria and out into the open world for the first time in your life. You rode and rode for what felt like hours, the smell of the air changing to something briny, sand replacing the grass, and the trees all but disappearing.

“Welcome to the sea,” Levi introduced as a vast blue stretch of water that reached far beyond where your eyes could see came into view, “Feel free to take off your shoes and get in.”

“What is it?” you gasped, doing what Levi said and wading into the warm, clear waves lapping at your ankles.

“It’s salt water or something. We’re on an island. On the other side of this is a whole other world, filled with people…”

“He was right?”

“Yes. He was. I’ll be on the rocks.”

You stayed until Levi said it was time to leave, the sky turning the most magnificent shade of pink and orange as the sun began to dip. The escort Levi had brought stayed two in the front, one bringing up the rear, leaving you and Levi in more privacy than when you’d traveled out this morning. It was a relief to get confirmation that Erwin’s dream had been accomplished, even if it wasn’t by him. Those who had doubted him would now be forced to admit their error. It was something at least.

“He loved you,” Levi said, the phrase uncharacteristic and the foreignness to even the man speaking it was evident in his tone, “For what it’s worth.”

“I know,” you acknowledged, smiling softly over at him.

“Can you forgive him?”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. He just said he hoped you’d forgive him. For dying, I guess.”

“And it worries you if I can’t?”

“Well, it was his dying wish.”

Realization set in at Levi’s crass, straightforward response. You and he were so very alike. It was no wonder Erwin had taken a liking to you both.

“Yeah,” you finally agreed as the sands turned to endless green grass, “I suppose I can.”

“Good. That makes one of us then.”

Thought his eyes stayed fixed ahead of him, you noticed the flicker of a smile twitch at the corner of humanity’s strongest soldier.

**Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!**

#erwin smith x reader #erwin smith x f!reader #erwin smith x you #erwin smith smut #erwin smith #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan smut

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months

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AITH for cutting off my friendship of 15 years with my best friend?

I(33nb) and A(33F) were friends since elementary school, she just kidnapped me away from my friends one day at school and because we liked the same stuff i never tried to get back to my friends, so we were very tight for a while. Quite literally, she felt i was very warm and pulled me away from my friends, they kind of fought for me for days until she won, it was weird in retrospect.

When middle school came we got into different schools but kept in touch, whenever a friend of mine met her always wondered why i stood her, in their words "she is a very rude person" but i never got why they said that.

She's had many troubling boyfriends i never liked how they treated her but still, when asked for advice she always ignored me and i was always there for her to vent, cry and comfort her.

Whenever we went out and someone tried to hit on her she would pull my hand and say she was already taken, referring to me which was actually very bad for my heart but whatever so she could keep them at bay.

I cannot say it was always bad, we did have fun, shared good moments and still have many fond memories. I also was very much in love with her for a good 10 years lol, but kept it quite to just enjoy the friendship.

As years passed i started picking up on how she talked and depreciated the things i liked, be it music, comics, movies, artists. She even said how embarrassing it was to be with me in public sometimes, because 'i dont have a filter' and if i tried to tell her to not be mean she would just wave me off n say "you know me, im like this and you have to accept me" kinda talk.

Anyways the reason i finally broke was after many times she made me cry for the tiniest thing, i was trying to make her notice how her boyfriend was being a total asshole to both of us, he always changed my name to get on my nerves, and we could never hang the same day he was going to be over because he said so.

I was so tired that he controlled her so much, he broke with her multiple times and made her cry at least once a week, but they somehow always came back and i just couldn't stand this anymore so she had this big talk with him and turned out i was the problem???

He said he was super jealous of our relationship, but she promised there was nothing between us and even got us in agreement that i was going to try to be his friend too... So yeah i did try, by starting to listen to his music and watch the shows he liked.

I budged, watched 2 seasons of a popular show i never really liked, and got back to them to talk about it, share theories and such.

I was having a conversation with her over our DMs and with him through FB about the same show and somehow both insulted the same actors almost at the same time, very racist and abled stuff, about teen actors, one of them is actually disabled and she called him a cr*ppled fr*ak.

Idk why she felt i was a person she could speak about this, through years she knew i was and am against ableism, racism and just bigotry and im very vocal about it.

I stopped her and she got all offended that it was her right to talk about him like that, and i was her best friend so i should know her already, also if he was a public figure that's what he got exposed to.

Just at the same time her bf was explaining how it was his right to call any dark skinned person whoever he liked.

We're not even white?? Idk where they got all this. I stopped both conversations by telling them to apologize or just go eat shit, but they doubled down so i just told them they're made for each other and fuck off, blocked them from everything and because she tried to contact me through my siblings and partner, had to politely ask them to block them to which they agreed when they saw the conversations.

Even deleted all social media accounts i had her in to avoid any contact with her and that asshole.

Why i deleted? Because it was not the first time i tried to cut her off and she still looked for me until i budged, so i had to erase any tracks and even moved away from where i lived.

Anyways, it's been 5 years from this shit, her bday is approaching and i have never been able to stop thinking about her.

Idk why i worry so much about her, people have repeatedly told me i was right but we both grew in very unstable and abusive homes, so i kind of related to her.

I have never tried to reach back to her, i dont intend to.

So, AITA for cutting off a long friendship over chat for what she said was me being stupid?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

72 notes · View notes

achaotichuman · 5 months

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Cute thought, but imagine whenever Tamlin is feeling a strong emotion, plants or flowers would bloom in his hair. Just imagine Tamlin sleeping soundly on Lucien's chest and all Lucien can see and smell are roses and lilacs.

AWWWWW STOOOP THATS SO CUTE HOW HAVE I NEVER THOUGHT OF THIS?!?!?!

You've switched the fanfiction part of my brain on. Here's how I think that scene would go.

Tamlin's magic tended to act of its own accord. That had been a problem for many a Spring Lord, at its very core it only abided by the laws of nature, and nature headed no one but chaos. Many former Spring Lords had found solace in removing themselves entirely from their emotions, distancing themselves from what made them people just so an angry outburst wouldn't level the homes they lived in.

Lucien had been afraid at first when Tamlin first came into power. He had grown fond of the Spring Prince. They were similar in many odd ways, it first started with them both being the forgotten outcasted youngest siblings, picked on relentlessly for the simple act of living. Tamlin was quite older than Lucien, surpassing his age by decades. But even so, they had come together, and their friendship had quickly become stronger than iron.

Lucien had been afraid they would lose that. That Tamlin would turn to the same path his father had chosen, taking a specially formulated medication that over time removed his ability to feel. Tamlin had once described his father and his predecessors' emotions like stone pounded by fierce waves. Over time it could be turned into something else if hounded incessantly by a strong enough force, but it would always remain rough, cold and immovable by the strength of one fae alone.

If Lucien lost Tamlin to something like that... Lucien didn't know what he would do with himself.

But as it were, Tamlin did not lose himself. He refused to take the concoction, even after he was warned dozens of times over that his magic would go against his orders, that it would do as it pleased.

Tamlin fought it for years. Writhed with his magic like it was trying to control him from the inside out. Lucien had to stay away for a time, everyone did, while Tamlin tried to keep dominance over the power he now possessed.

Centuries had now passed. Years had flashed by. Tamlin still struggled with his magic from time to time. It fought back, snapped back more like it, when it pleased, but for the most part, Tamlin won that war. Lucien couldn't have been prouder of him for it.

His magic still seemed to have its own mind though, it reacted to his emotions, just less violently than it used to. Now Tamlin didn't have to keep every single emotion he felt in check. He was, for the most part, free. Like the magic had chosen to obey him.

And how beautiful his magic was when it was calm.

It was late in the afternoon; Lucien had been peacefully reading on his bed. The sunlight filtered in through his curtains, a soft glow that warmed his skin. He was knee-deep in the climax of the plot, completely enthralled in the story he didn't notice his door open, only when it clicked shut and someone slumped back against the door. Lucien glanced up to see Tamlin leaning against the door.

"Tam, are you-" Lucien's worried question was cut off by Tamlin just lifting a finger and putting his other hand to his head. He took in a deep shaking breath and slowly released it, as he did a thorny bramble climbed across Lucien's window, creating a jagged shadow across the floor.

His magic was acting up. Lucien quickly marked and closed his book, putting down on the covers. He stood up, unsure of whether to stay put or run.

"Luce." Tamlin breathed.

"Yes, Tam?"

Tamlin closed his eyes, both his hands falling to his side. When Lucien looked closer, he noticed the High lord was trembling.

"Tamlin." Lucien murmured, beginning to stand up, "Maybe you should go out into the gardens, you like it there."

He needed something to calm his magic, being in the gardens usually soothed it.

Tamlin opened his eyes to see Lucien. His breathing began to speed up by a beat. Lucien was caught, one side of him begged to move closer. To touch and hold Tamlin. The other, more logical side of him, told him to move away.

When Tamlin let his head fall back against the door, squeezing his hands into fists and screwing his eyes shut like he was in pain, the logical side of him silenced and Lucien quickly appeared before Tamlin. The redhead intertwined their fingers, the feeling of Tamlin's claws peeking on his fingertips should've been enough to make Lucien step away again, but Lucien had chosen to ignore logic the second he started dating the High lord of the Spring Court.

"Lovely, how bad is it?" Lucien asked, eyes flicking rapidly over Tamlin like he could try and see the magic roaring inside him.

Tamlin just shook his head. Keeping his eyes closed the High lord moved his head to press his face into Lucien's neck. Tamlin practically fell forward into Lucien. The fire lord had to move one foot back to stabilize himself as he collected Tamlin in his arms.

It would be alright this time, Tamlin had it under control for the most part. But as Tamlin went practically completely limp in his arms, Lucien knew he was exhausted.

Lucien hummed soft praises in Tamlin's ear as he led the Spring Court Lord to his bed. Lucien set Tamlin down on the soft red covers. Tamlin didn't hesitate to collapse into a heap. Breathing still a touch too erratic. Lucien sat down on the bed, hand going to rub circles on Tamlin's head.

"Bad today, huh?" Lucien whispered. Tamlin didn't respond, but his face did soften at Lucien's gentle ministrations.

Lucien bit his bottom lip. Then he decided to simply lay down next to his boyfriend.

Wriggling down onto the soft covers, he began to pull Tamlin into his arms. The Spring Lord then proceeded to clamper on top of Lucien, practically covering his body with his own. Tamlin pressed his face right into the center of Lucien's chest. His breathing finally beginning to slow and deepen.

Lucien smiled and started to run his fingers through Tamlin's golden curls, "Feeling better?"

Tamlin managed a weak nod, one hand travelling up Lucien's side, following his arm and going down to intertwine their fingers once more.

Lucien rubbed circles into the back of Tamlin's palm. His free hand travelling down to firmly massage his lower back. Tamlin let out a content hum, just a few moments passed and Lucien noted the way Tamlin's breathing slowed, his breaths becoming deeper and less ragged. He had fallen asleep.

Arching his neck down, Lucien pressed a soft kiss to the top of Tamlin's head, he whispered into his hair, "I love you so much."

At that moment, Lucien watched the thorny bramble that had stuck up around his window earlier turn to dust blown away by the wind.

Then the undeniable smell of sweet-roses and dandelions wafted around him. Lucien quickly looked down to see Tamlin's hair, spilling from his head like liquid gold, had small buds slowly unfurling through the strands. Stems grew and wrapped around the spiral curls, petals budding then unfurling, letting out a puff of golden pollen.

Lucien observed in awe as these flowers continued to bloom on his High lords head, until they covered his hair, spilling out onto the bed like they were part of his body. A crown of Spring. Proof that the magic had accepted defeat. An offering to its High lord.

Lucien hadn't realized how hard his was smiling until his face became to hurt, but he couldn't stop. He kissed Tamlin's head again, his lips brushing curls and soft rose petals.

"My Beast," Lucien whispered, "And my Beauty."

Thank you for the ask! I really loved writing this! I might put this in the Tamcien fic I have written. I hope you like this as much as I do!

#acotar #tamlin #lucien vanserra #pro tamlin #pro lucien vanserra #tamcien #tamlin/lucien vanserra #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanons #acotar au

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dawneternal · 2 months

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Take the World in Your Hands | Eris x Elain | Six

Summary: Eris's brothers catch wind of his proposal to Nesta. They plan to find and deliver her to their father as a gift, surely winning his favor. Their plan takes a turn when they kidnap the wrong Archeron sister and Eris finds her in the Autumn Court dungeon.

all aboard the crack ship???

Notes: sorry not sorry for the angst in this one 👀 it may be a little bit longer between the next chapters cause that's where all the drama starts to go down. Thanks for all the support!!

Warnings: smut and angst, 18+

Word Count: 3.3k

Ao3 Link / Masterlist

Elain woke to soft kisses. One on each of her cheeks, one on the tip of her nose, her forehead, her ear.

"Eris," She let out a sleepy giggle, reaching out for him. She tangled her fingers in his hair and held him still, smiling up at him and fighting to keep her eyes open. Soft honey eyes looked back at her, full of adoration and a gleam of contentment.

"Morning, sleepy dove," He murmured, burying his face in her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her. It was so lovely to wake up to someone. Someone happy to see you.

"I suppose you are regretting everything this morning?" Eris teased between kisses across her collarbone.

"Regret is not the right word," Elain feigned seriousness, eyebrows drawing together as if deep in thought, "More like...underwhelmed. I suppose you'll just have to do better, today."

Eris scoffed as her sly grin grew, as she clutched him tighter in silent encouragement to take the challenge. He fought for a moment between punishing her there and then, and flipping the challenge back onto her, coaxing out the vixen underneath her demure facade.

Pride won out, and Eris was determined to turn her to a quivering, begging mess beneath him.

In truth, Elain's whole being felt light. Lighter than it had in a very long time. Somehow, he had convinced her to pour her entire heart to him, and he had listened. He had lifted so much weight from her shoulders. And he knew, because he felt the same way. But he was nothing if not stubborn and would not let her cheekiness slide.

It was not quite thirty minutes later when he met his goal.

"Still underwhelmed?" Eris pulled away just at the edge of her descent for the third time, looking up at her from between her thighs.

"No," Elain choked out, fingers buried in his hair, trying to pull him closer, "I won't tease again. Please, please!"

Eris relented and let her fall into bliss, considerably satisfied with himself. He always got what he wanted.

Eris turned his self defense lesson into an opportunity to flirt, and Elain had expected nothing less. Brushing against her, finding ways to touch her skin, speaking in innuendos. Always that sly smile.

The snow had mostly melted in the night, revealing the decaying leaves below. The sun filtering through the trees gave little warmth, and the wind weaving through the forest was bitingly cold. But Elain's skin was flushed and warm from the exertion and from Eris's attention, her cheeks bright pink and eyes glowing.

To his credit, and despite his own distractions, Eris was an excellent teacher. By the end of his lesson Elain had built an arsenal of tools and moves that would help to make her less of a target. He showed her how to free herself from several holds, how to incapacitate an attacker long enough to get away, how to properly use her dagger if it came to it, and how to flip someone over her shoulder. Though Elain wondered if that last one was possibly just for his own entertainment.

He went through the concept and movements until she had them memorized, before giving her the chance to try it on him. He told her she only had one shot. Though the pine needles may feel soft beneath their feet, it would not feel the same when his entire weight was used against him.

Elain's execution was perfect and Eris found himself laying on the forest floor, trees towering above him, spinning with the rest of the world. He let out a small groan in spite of himself and Elain's beaming face came into view.

Eris wanted her to feel confident. To move through the world with more agency and have the courage to take what she wanted. There was a hint of it, then, as she looked down at him.

But by the time their lesson ended, it had disappeared. Elain sat down on a tree stump with a sigh, looking deeply tired.

"What's the matter, sweet one?" Eris crouched before her, taking her hands in his. He was determined to drink in every moment with her, sieze every opportunity to cherish her before he possibly never saw her again.

Elain looked down at her lap, avoiding his patient and searching eyes. She chewed her lip as she thought.

"There's just so many things in this world I don't know. About defending myself, about who I am and what I want...." The lump forming in her throat cut her off.

About love and sex and intimacy, she wanted to add, but did not have the courage. He probably knew, anyways. He seemed to know her better than herself somehow.

"Oh, dearest," Eris reached up to brush a tear from her cheekbone. Elain convinced herself to meet his eyes. "Don't let that discourage you. Let it drive you. The whole world is a possibility. Let it turn you a little wicked. And then take the whole world in your hands and make it give you what you want. Do not for a moment believe yourself to be as weak as Rhysand has treated you."

A flame sparked in his eyes as he spoke, his gentle tone turning to something sharper. Elain reached out to hold his cheek, sweeping her thumb across his freckled skin. More tears fell, too many emotions swirling in her mind. Somewhere in the back of her head was a sense of urgency. The awareness of time ticking down to the moment it was all over. She could see it in his eyes, too.

"I have trapped myself with the choices I have made," Eris's voice broke just a little, "And it would heal me to know you avoid the same fate. Use your power to free yourself."

Elain could feel the desire building in her chest, sparked by the cracking of his voice. To chase the power he spoke of and the freedom to move through this world as a formidable opponent. Eris watched it glow in her eyes. A smouldering ember, allowing him just a hint of what she held within her. Her expression had changed, the uncertainty replaced with a terrifying calm.

Elain had a face that was inherently kind. But as Eris held her hands, he could feel what began to boil under the surface, what fire had already been lit by her mistreatment. He thought of her sister and the silver flames of death that cloaked her. Nesta had scared him before, but she would no longer frighten him. From this moment on, Elain would always scare him more, as something else dwelled beneath it all.

Elain would dangle her kindness like a prize, a glittering gem coveted by many. To be in her good graces and bask in her ethereal beauty was a gift and one she did not give freely. Anyone who took advantage of it would find themselves trapped like a greedy animal, subjected to her power, given to her by the Cauldron itself. Daughter of the only Mother, beloved by the Cauldron, she would wield the powerful blade of her own judgement with no remorse and those who failed her would weep at what they'd lost. Mercy from Elain Kingslayer would be earned only by those most worthy.

Elain peeled off her coat and scarf, tossing them into the coat rack without much care. All she could think about was getting into a warm bath and chasing away the cold that gripped her to the bone.

She had not noticed that Eris copied her every move and followed her to the washroom until she began to pull her dress over her head and a pleased hum met her ears. She jumped and turned, meeting Eris's smouldering gaze.

He smirked at her and reached for the hovering hem of her dress, pulling it up and over the rest of the way.

"I want to soak in the bath," Elain informed him, crossing her arms to deprive him of the curves that he was currently devouring with his gaze.

"I won't stop you," Eris answered, his voice low. Indeed, he held his hands behind his back, though he leaned forward to leave a soft kiss on her shoulder. "And I'll leave the minute you tell me to."

But of course, Elain was silent. She flashed him one haughty look before turning on the faucet. She removed her undergarments as slowly as she could manage, bending all the way to the floor as she slid off her underwear. She pulled up her brassiere with care, ensuring that her breasts bounced against her ribs as she released them.

Eris watched it all hungrily, not bothering to hide the evidence that grew against the front of his pants.

Elain stepped so daintily into the bath water, letting out an exaggerated sigh as she lay back against the tub. Then she looked toward him at last, gazing up through her lashes in surprise as if she had forgotten he was there.

"Oh, I'm sorry," She said, voice high and sweet, "Were you hoping for an invitation?"

"Something like that," Eris smirked, his usual wit lost to him just then.

Elain pretended to think for a long moment, pulling her lip between her bottom teeth as her gaze dragged over his form at an agonizing pace. Then finally, "Alright, I suppose I don't mind sharing."

She smiled to herself at the speed at which he removed his clothes, too desperate to hide his want. His skin still glistened with sweat, highlighting every dip and swell of muscle. If he had any patience left, Eris would have stood still and let her admire him, but he was cold and sore and he could not resist the sight of Elain waiting for him, eyes wandering over every inch of his naked body.

As he lowered himself into the tub to sit across from her, the bliss of the hot water erased his desire for a brief moment. He laid back against the tub as Elain had, closing his eyes and letting the warmth envelope him.

He heard a splash of water and then felt Elain crawling into his lap, her skin smooth against his under the water. He settled his hands on her waist and opened his eyes, but the face that met him was a sad one.

Elain's brows furrowed with grief, lips pursed, as her fingertips ran over the scars on his chest and shoulders. Beads of water dripped from her fingers, as gentle as her touch.

"What's wrong?" He asked, pulling her closer against him. She didn't stop her examination.

"You've felt so much pain in your life," Elain croaked, fingers brushing against a particularly large scar, "And from people who should not have hurt you."

"They're not all from my father," Eris whispered. Elain only looked at him, eyes glistening.

"Please cheer up, dove," He wrapped his hand around hers and lifted it away, brushing her knuckles across his lips.

"Why do you speak of it that way?"

"Like what?" Eris couldn't look at her, not at the sadness on her face. The sadness for him. He could bear it alone, but not when it looked back at him like this.

"Like it's alright."

"Because I can't fix it. I'm already doing everything I can. Every waking moment is spent on planning for the future," He let his head fall back, taking a break from the intensity of her stare by bringing his gaze to the white ceiling. "Someday it'll all be over. I usually get what I want."

Elain tucked herself into him as a response, nuzzling the bridge of her nose into the curve of his neck. Eris wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, soaking in the sympathy pouring from her heart.

"I will take the world in my hands," Elain murmured, the sound vibrating between their chests, breath tickling Eris's skin, "And I will punish it for what it's done to you."

Eris's heartbeat quickened at the ferocity in her tone, contrasting with her soft, melodic voice. At the way she gripped him tighter, nails digging into his skin as if she was worried he'd slip from her grasp. She pulled back to look at him, eyes darkening with anger and determination and desire.

Eris brought his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her into a searing kiss. Perhaps he was pathetic for the way her power heated his blood. He couldn't think clearly enough to care, let alone chastise himself for it. Not with this beautiful, wicked thing in his lap, grinding her naked body against his.

She kissed him hard, teeth clashing against his, tongue fast and punishing. She nipped at his lips, and grazed her teeth along his jaw. She left a kiss over every scar she could reach and let her hands wander his body like her touch could erase what had been done to him.

Eris settled one thigh between her legs, pulling her down into him as she met his lips. He felt her gasp against his mouth, pausing to process the pleasure that ran through her. Then she continued, rolling her hips against the tight muscle of his thigh, letting his firm hands guide her. The warmth of his skin and the water drew beads of sweat from her brow.

He watched her with hungry eyes, her lips parted and swollen from her kisses. Elain could feel her release building quickly, but she slowed to a stop.

"What is it?" Eris murmured, but she didn't answer. She threw her leg over his to straddle him once more. Then she reached down and pulled his length into her fist. Eris groaned, eyes never leaving hers as she stroked him, his fingers digging into her thighs.

Elain rose up on her knees and began to align him with her center. Eris grabbed her wrist and his eyes searched hers.

"Are you sure?"

"I am sure." She said, firm. No sign of hesitation.

Eris relented, releasing her wrist and allowing her to sink down onto him. Elain braced her hands on either side of the tub, letting her head fall back as she reveled in the stretch. Reveled in how good it felt to give her body what it wanted.

Eris took the opportunity to lean forward and kiss her exposed neck. The movement pushed him deeper inside her, eliciting sounds of pleasure from them both. He brought his hands to her breasts, massaging and pinching as he attacked her neck. Soft kisses, punishing bites, apologetic swipes of his tongue. He left dark bruises along her collarbone, in the hollow of her throat, over her pulse points. When she had taken him in fully, he dropped his hands to her hips and encouraged the smooth push and pull of her body.

It did not take long for her movements to shift from slow and savouring to desperate, feverish. Lifting her hips and slamming back down, the head of his cock hitting some glorious spot inside her. She reached down and circled her clit with her finger tips, adding to the building pleasure.

Eris was trembling, breathing hard, moans escaping from deep in his throat. They were music to her ears, a song of his adoration.

"Elain, you should slow do-" He panted, gripping her thighs tighter.

"Are you telling me that you have no tonic in this secret sex cabin?" She cut him off, not stopping but keeping the same relentless pace.

Eris blinked at her and then tipped his head back and laughed, shoulders shaking. The corners of his eyes crinkled, something Elain had not seen yet. She stuffed it away for later, something else to cherish. If she could, she'd put it in a locket and wear it over her heart.

"I do," Eris said, punctuated by a laugh-turned-whimper.

"Then come inside me."

Eris clenched his jaw, all mirth giving way back to desire. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in close, arching her back, holding her tight against him as he thrust into her hard and fast.

Elain held onto his shoulders, face buried in his neck as he fucked her, crying and whimpering against his skin. Release hit Eris first and he pulled her in, biting down on her bottom lip and groaning into her throat. Elain swallowed the sound, and the extra heat deep in her cunt pulled her over with him. She cried out his name, followed by a sob.

"Good girl," Eris purred, though he could barely think through the waves of bliss, "Come with me."

They clung to each other through the entirety of their release, skin against skin. Catching their breath as the movement of their bodies slowed to a stop.

It had been over for only a handful of seconds before everything began to feel solemn again. The sand was falling through the hourglass and neither could shake their awareness of it.

Elain's eyes welled with tears and Eris and held her tight, cradling her head against his shoulder. She traced mindless circles in the curls at the nape of his neck, Eris running his free hand up and down the length of her back. They stayed that way for a long while. As long as the hourglass would allow.

Elain lay awake in the dark, trying not to disturb Eris as he slept beside her. She was full from dinner, satisfied with what she'd learned from their lesson, and delightfully sore from the exercise and from a third round of lovemaking after dessert. But something Eris had said while they ate had stuck in her mind, keeping her from drifting off.

"You know," He said, strangely reserved. Not wanting to look her in the eye, "My brother is not so bad. Actually, I'd say he's the best one of us."

Elain had stopped eating and stared at him, bewildered.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that maybe you should give him a chance to show you how well he could care for you," His words eye gentle, but he still would not look at her, poking at the last few bites on his plate.

"You know nothing of what's between us," Elain said, voice bitter. Eris had already braced for it.

"Maybe not. I just want things to be different for you, after this." He stood to take care of his plate, leaving her to ponder his words.

She was still pondering his words. She knew that she had perhaps been unfair with Lucien. But the circumstances of him being around her, trying to court her, were too overwhelming. She had not been interested in someone who she had not chosen. Someone thrust upon her by the same cauldron that stripped her over her humanity, drowning her in death and gifting her rebirth as something she never wanted.

But she was so lonely. And Eris was right, she knew Lucien would be good to her. But at this point, was she even worthy of him?

Elain pulled herself from Eris's arms, pausing to see if he'd wake. When his even breathing did not falter, she left the bed as quietly as she could and made her way to the washroom. There, she strapped Eris's dagger to her thigh and stood in front of the mirror. Over and over, she practiced what he had taught her. Pulling it out in a fluid motion, solid in her grip, holding it up as if to an attacker's throat.

She did it again and again, banning all thoughts but those of perfecting her movements. It did not clear her mind as well as baking or gardening, but it worked somewhat. She tried to let her nerves about the following day drive her, sharpen her skill. That's what Feyre would do.

When she was tired enough to sleep, she slipped back into bed, cuddling in close to Eris, letting his warmth lull her away.

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expectopatronum81 · 1 year

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HARRY POTTER CHARACTERS -TIER RANKING LIST (purely based on the books)

Ok, here's the elaborate explanation for specific rankings that literally no one asked for

Sirius and Snape: Whether u r a marauders stan or snape stan, I think the character richness, nuance and complexity of these characters is undeniable, especially considering these r the 'good guys'. So any beef I hv with these characters gets cancelled out because of how well they're written, just because of the pure greyness of their personalities.

Same goes for Dumbledore, especially with his backstory

Teenage Voldemort was the villain, cunning, charming, psychopathic, manipulative; if only those traits had carried on. Adult voldy is straight up dumb, his manipulation of the malfoy family was the only thing in character, really disappointing nonetheless

James is that high because he's a pretty well rounded considering the fact that he's dead before the series starts. This filter didn't have regulus but i d put him in the sm category

Oliver Wood and Lockhart are that high just because they're iconic

The filter didn't hv Parvati Patil, so just consider that image to be her. She's the best side character imo. She's girly in a typical teenage sense, with her giggling, butterfly clips, her obsession with divination and centuars, her love for unicorns etc. But she's a total badass, she totally enjoyed her fame as harry's date in the yule ball, then straight up dumped him n went with sm beauxbatons guys when he wouldn't dance with her, stood up to umbridge, and fought with the DA until the very end. Her last appearance was when she won a duel against a death eater, she's an absolute queen

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star-wars-writing · 3 months

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Ripples of Serenity - follow up In Sickness and in health

A/N: Hey guys, a small follow up from the one shot "in sickness and in health" I hope you'll like it. this was my free card for the @codywanbingo, where I came up with the prompt: Body Pillow. It's not my best one, but I still thought it was nice to share this. Hope you'll like it.

As twilight descended upon Coruscant, the Room of a Thousand Fountains transformed into a tapestry woven with the tranquil hues of evening. Shadows and light played a delicate dance across the water, each fountain casting its own fluid, shimmering ballet upon the ancient stones and verdant flora. The air, rich with the scent of damp earth and blossoming night-blooms, carried the symphony of water - a chorus of gentle splashes, serene trickles, and soft gurgles that whispered secrets of ancient Jedi who once sought solace here.

In this hallowed space, the chaos of the galaxy seemed like a distant echo, a forgotten storm beyond the serenity of these walls. The fountains, with their never-ending flow, spoke of timelessness, of moments captured and held in the embrace of the Force. The light of Coruscant’s setting sun filtered through the high, arched windows, casting a kaleidoscope of golds and ambers across the cobblestone paths, turning them into rivers of molten light.

Here, amid the harmony of nature and the crafted elegance of the Jedi Temple, lay Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody. Removed from the clatter of armor and the weight of sabers, they were but two souls adrift in a sea of tranquility. Obi-Wan, his head resting gently on Cody’s stomach, lay ensconced in the commander's warmth. The rise and fall of Cody’s breathing was a soothing rhythm, a living pulse beneath Obi-Wan’s ear.

Cody's fingers, calloused yet tender, wove through Obi-Wan's hair with a rhythm as ancient as the stars. Each stroke was a wordless verse, a tactile whisper against the Jedi's temple. In these motions lay unspoken stories, tales of battles fought and burdens shared, now melting into the quietude of this sanctuary.

The surrounding greenery, lush and vibrant even as night approached, rustled softly in the gentle breeze, like discreet onlookers to this display of quiet intimacy. The water lilies, floating serenely on the surface of the nearest pool, seemed to glow ethereally in the dimming light, their petals delicate witnesses to the bond shared between the Jedi and the soldier.

Above, the first stars of the evening began to peek through the dusky sky, their light reflecting in the myriad pools, creating a celestial mirror that echoed the vastness of the galaxy, yet felt as intimate as the space between two intertwined hearts. In this moment, within the Room of a Thousand Fountains, time and duty stood still, held at bay by the simple, profound act of one man finding shelter in another's embrace.

***

In the hallowed serenity of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, beneath the velvety embrace of twilight, Obi-Wan Kenobi lay in contemplative stillness, his head cradled upon the rhythmic, life-affirming rise and fall of Commander Cody's stomach. Here, amidst the symphony of gently cascading waters and the subtle, sweet fragrance of night-blooming flowers, the tumultuous echoes of the Clone Wars seemed like distant whispers, relics of a past both harrowing and heroic.

As Obi-Wan lay there, his senses attuned to the comforting warmth of Cody's presence, his mind wove through the intricate tapestry of their shared history. The war, a saga of light and shadow that had defined much of their existence, now rested in the annals of history, a story of victory hard-won and sacrifices deeply felt. In the quiet aftermath, as the galaxy inched towards a semblance of peace, they found themselves navigating a world that was, at once, familiar and utterly transformed.

Obi-Wan's thoughts danced around the nuances of their relationship, a bond forged in the crucible of conflict and solidified in the stillness of peace. Cody, once a commander under his command, had become so much more—a confidant, a pillar of strength, a companion who had stood unwaveringly by his side through trials that would have broken lesser men. In the ebb and flow of war, amidst the chaos of battles and the burden of leadership, they had discovered in each other an unspoken understanding, a resonance that transcended the mere camaraderie of soldiers.

"The war is over, but its echoes linger," Obi-Wan mused, his voice a soft murmur harmonizing with the ambient chorus of the fountains. "Yet, here, in this moment, there is a peace that feels almost... unfamiliar."

Cody's hand, moving in slow, deliberate strokes through Obi-Wan's hair, was a tactile testament to the depth of their connection. "We've spent so long amidst turmoil, Obi-Wan," Cody's voice rumbled gently, a soothing vibration against Obi-Wan's cheek. "Finding peace... it's like rediscovering a forgotten language."

Indeed, the peace they now experienced was an intricate language to decipher—a language of stillness, of shared silences that spoke volumes, of understanding and acceptance found not in the heat of battle but in the quiet aftermath. Obi-Wan realized that their journey together had evolved, unfurling layers of companionship and trust that went beyond the mandates of duty and the rigors of war.

In the gentle cadence of Cody's breathing and the soft caress of his fingers, Obi-Wan found a solace that the roar of battle and the solemn halls of the Jedi Temple had seldom afforded. There was a simplicity to their interactions in this newfound peace, a simplicity that belied the complexity of emotions that ran like undercurrents between them—respect, admiration, and perhaps, something deeper, an uncharted territory they were only beginning to explore.

As the last vestiges of daylight surrendered to the embrace of night, Obi-Wan felt a profound gratitude envelop him—a gratitude for the peace they had achieved for the galaxy and for the peace they had found in each other's company. In Cody, he saw not just the stalwart soldier, the loyal commander, but a man of depth and resilience, a man whose presence had become an integral part of his own existence.

Lying there, in the embrace of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, Obi-Wan Kenobi allowed himself to simply be—to be present in the moment, to be receptive to the quiet joys of peace, and to be open to the myriad possibilities that lay ahead in this new chapter of their lives. For in the tranquil heart of the Jedi Temple, amidst the eternal dance of light and water, he and Commander Cody had found a sanctuary, a haven where the whispers of the past melded with the murmurs of a future yet to be written.

***

In the dwindling light, the Room of a Thousand Fountains became a realm of half-shadows and whispers, a place where time seemed to slow, allowing moments to expand and fill the space with their unspoken significance. Commander Cody, his fingers gently traversing the landscape of Obi-Wan Kenobi's hair with a tenderness that belied his warrior's hands, found himself lost in a sea of introspection.

Each stroke of his fingers was a silent language, a means of conveying what words often could not. In the soft, chestnut strands slipping through his fingers, he felt a connection that went beyond the physical—a bond that had been forged in the fires of war and tempered in the stillness of peace. As he gazed down at Obi-Wan, whose eyes were closed in serene trust, a profound sense of protectiveness welled within him.

Cody's life had been one of orders and duty, a path defined by the rigid structure of the military. Yet, in Obi-Wan, he had found an unexpected anchor, a presence that had gently nudged him towards depths of understanding and feeling he had never anticipated. The Jedi had become more than a General to him, more than a symbol of the Order he had vowed to serve. Obi-Wan had become a guiding star in the vast expanse of Cody's existence, illuminating paths not just of strategy and combat, but of empathy, introspection, and the complex nuances of the human heart.

"You always seem to find peace so easily," Cody remarked, his voice a low rumble, rich with warmth and a hint of wonder. "Even in the midst of chaos, you've always had this... this center of calm."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, turning his gaze upwards to meet Cody's. In them, Cody saw a reflection of his own thoughts, a shared understanding that transcended the need for words. "You've helped me find it," Obi-Wan replied, his voice soft yet resonant in the quiet of the room. "In you, I've found not just a comrade in arms but a source of strength. Your steadfastness, your loyalty... they've been a light in some of my darkest moments."

Cody's hand paused in its motion, a wave of emotion washing over him. To be seen in such a light by Obi-Wan, to be valued not just for his role as a Commander but for the essence of who he was, felt both humbling and uplifting. He had always viewed Obi-Wan as a pillar of strength, a bastion of the Jedi ideals of peace and justice. Yet, in their shared journey, he had come to see the man behind the myth, a man capable of deep compassion, profound wisdom, and, perhaps most importantly, a vulnerability that he entrusted only to a few.

"It's been an honor, Obi-Wan," Cody said, his voice thick with unspoken emotions. "To fight alongside you, to learn from you... it's changed me in ways I'm still trying to understand."

Obi-Wan's hand reached up, covering Cody's where it rested in his hair, a gesture of mutual respect and connection. "We've changed each other, Cody. You've shown me perspectives I might have otherwise never seen. You've taught me as much as I could ever hope to teach."

In the quietude of the fountains, with the veil of night drawing close, their conversation unfolded like a gentle stream, meandering through topics both profound and mundane. Each word, each shared silence, was a testament to the depth of their bond, a bond that had grown in the shadows of war but now flourished in the peace they had both fought so hard to achieve.

As stars began to speckle the sky above, visible through the high glass dome of the room, Cody and Obi-Wan remained in their sanctuary of stillness and water. Here, they were not just a Jedi and a Commander; they were two souls who had found in each other a kindred spirit, a companion with whom the trials of the past and the uncertainties of the future could be faced with a quiet, unshakeable confidence. In each other, they had found not just an ally in battle, but a partner in the journey of life, a journey they continued to navigate with an enduring bond that was as deep as the fathomless depths of space, and as enduring as the timeless dance of the stars.

***

As the Room of a Thousand Fountains embraced the night, casting a tapestry of shadow and luminescence across its serene expanse, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody found themselves adrift in a sea of contemplation, their conversation meandering into the realm of future dreams and aspirations.

The gentle cadence of water playing against stone provided a soothing backdrop to their dialogue, a harmonic counterpoint to the depth and weight of their words. Obi-Wan, his head still resting on the comforting landscape of Cody’s stomach, felt the vibrations of the commander’s voice resonate through him, a tangible manifestation of their connection.

“You know,” Obi-Wan began, his voice a soft murmur in the tranquility of their haven, “I’ve been thinking about taking on another Padawan. The Order will need to rebuild, and there are so many young ones who could benefit from guidance.”

Cody’s hand, which had been tracing idle patterns in Obi-Wan’s hair, stilled at the words. He felt a surge of pride at the thought, mixed with an undercurrent of something akin to apprehension. The war had changed them all, and the idea of Obi-Wan shaping a new generation of Jedi was both a testament to his resilience and a reminder of the inexorable passage of time.

“It’s a big responsibility,” Cody said, his tone thoughtful. “But one I know you’re more than capable of handling. You have so much to offer, Obi-Wan. Your wisdom, your strength…”

Obi-Wan turned slightly, his blue eyes reflecting the starlight that filtered through the room’s vast dome. “It’s not a decision I take lightly. But in these young minds, I see hope. I see a chance to impart not just the teachings of the Force, but the lessons we’ve learned throughout this war. Lessons of compassion, of understanding, of seeing beyond the black-and-white dichotomies of right and wrong.”

Cody listened, each word sinking in, weaving a tapestry of possibility and potential. “And what of us?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability lacing his words. “With the clones and Jedi now living alongside each other, there’s a new world unfolding before us.”

Obi-Wan’s expression softened, a tender smile playing on his lips. “I believe our bond will only grow stronger in this new world. We’ve stood together through the darkest of times; now, we have a chance to build something. Together.”

The word hung in the air between them, a promise, a vow of shared tomorrows. Cody felt a warmth spread through him, a feeling that went beyond the physical proximity of their bodies. It was a warmth that spoke of partnership, of a shared path that extended beyond the battlefield, beyond the mandates of the Jedi or the duties of a commander.

“We could help shape this new era,” Cody said, his voice imbued with a sense of wonder. “Guide it towards a future where understanding and cooperation are the cornerstones.”

Obi-Wan nodded, his gaze fixed on the stars above. “A future where the scars of war give way to healing and growth. Where we, as individuals and as a galaxy, learn from our past to create a better tomorrow.”

The room, with its timeless dance of water and light, seemed to echo their sentiments, a silent witness to the dreams being woven within its walls. As the night deepened, Obi-Wan and Cody allowed themselves to drift in this sea of possibilities, each shared dream a building block for a future they would navigate together.

In that moment, the uncertainties of their paths seemed less daunting, overshadowed by the certainty of their bond. They were two souls, once thrown together by the tides of war, now choosing to walk side by side into the dawning era. Their journey, marked by battles fought and hardships endured, was also a journey of growth, of discovery, and, ultimately, of unwavering companionship.

And as they lay there, under the canopy of the cosmos, dreaming of what the future might hold, Obi-Wan and Cody knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, their bond a guiding light in the uncharted waters of the galaxy’s future.

****

In the tranquil cocoon of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, under the cloak of Coruscant's night sky, a playful energy began to percolate between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody. The solemnity of their earlier conversation had given way to a lighter mood, the air now ripe with the possibility of mischief.

Obi-Wan, feeling a surge of impishness, glanced sideways at Cody with a glint in his eye. "You know, Commander," he said, his voice laced with mock seriousness, "I've often wondered how well your clone training prepared you for unexpected aquatic situations."

Cody raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Aquatic situations, General?" he queried, playing along. "I assure you, we clones are prepared for all eventualities."

With a sudden, fluid movement, surprising for a man of his contemplative nature, Obi-Wan rolled, attempting to leverage Cody off-balance. The commander, caught off guard but quick to react, grappled with Obi-Wan, a laugh escaping him. "This is your idea of testing my training?"

The struggle, more playful than earnest, saw them rolling closer to the edge of one of the room's many pools. The water, reflecting the starlight from above, beckoned enticingly. As they jostled, their laughter echoing off the stone walls, it became a dance of sorts—a tussle between two warriors who had faced the gravest dangers yet now found themselves engaged in a battle of wits and play.

With a final, coordinated effort that spoke of their deep understanding and impeccable teamwork, both men tumbled into the pool with a resounding splash. The water enveloped them in its cool embrace, ripples cascading outwards, disturbing the tranquil surface.

Surfacing, Obi-Wan and Cody burst into hearty laughter, the sound bright and unburdened. Cody shook his head, droplets of water flinging from his short-cropped hair. "Well, General, I must concede, your methods are unorthodox, but effective."

Obi-Wan, floating leisurely, looked up at the night sky visible through the glass dome. "Sometimes, unorthodox methods yield the best results," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

The shared laughter, the unexpected plunge, had transformed the mood from contemplative to joyous, a physical manifestation of the ease and comfort they found in each other's presence. In that moment, they were not the storied Jedi General and his loyal Commander; they were simply Obi-Wan and Cody, two souls who had found in each other a kindred spirit, capable of finding joy amidst the remnants of war.

Soaked and still chuckling, they swam to the edge of the pool, their movements languid and relaxed. As they pulled themselves out, sitting on the edge with their feet still dipped in the water, the serenity of the room embraced them once more.

This spontaneous moment of levity, a brief interlude of carefree playfulness, was a reminder of the resilience of their bond. It spoke of a relationship that had weathered the fiercest storms, yet still found space for laughter and light-heartedness. In the Room of a Thousand Fountains, amidst the gentle sounds of water and the whisper of the night wind, Obi-Wan and Cody shared a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, a testament to the enduring strength and depth of their connection.

Drenched and still emanating the warmth of shared laughter, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody made their way out of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Each step echoed softly in the vast corridors of the Jedi Temple, their wet clothes clinging to them, a physical reminder of their spontaneous plunge into the pool. The cool air of the corridor brushed against their skin, contrasting with the lingering warmth of the water, creating an almost ethereal sensation.

As they walked side by side, a comfortable silence enveloped them, a silence that spoke volumes. It was a testament to the profound bond they shared, a bond that had deepened and evolved, transcending the roles of Jedi and Commander. In the quiet of their walk, their eyes would meet, a silent exchange of understanding and appreciation passing between them. Each glance was a conversation in itself, conveying trust, respect, and a shared history that had woven their lives inexorably together.

The subtle nuances of their non-verbal communication - a slight smile, a raised eyebrow, a nod - were their own language, developed over years of companionship. It was a language born out of necessity in the heat of battle but had flourished in the quieter moments like these. In the way Obi-Wan's eyes crinkled at the corners with genuine affection, or how Cody's posture relaxed completely in Obi-Wan's presence, there was an entire spectrum of emotion and thought conveyed without a single word.

As they approached their quarters, the weight of their soaked garments seemed to anchor them in the present moment, a reminder of the spontaneity that life could still hold. It was these moments, unexpected and unscripted, that had become a vital part of their relationship, strengthening the trust and intimacy that had grown between them.

Inside the privacy of their shared quarters, they moved with an ease and familiarity that spoke of countless shared experiences. There was a rhythm to their actions, a choreographed dance they had mastered over time. As they shed their wet clothes, their movements were respectful yet intimate, a delicate balance between personal boundaries and the comfort they found in each other's presence.

In the quiet of the room, as they changed into dry garments, the air was filled with an unspoken promise - a promise of continued support, of shared futures, and of a bond that would endure whatever trials the galaxy might throw their way. This promise was not articulated in words but was understood and felt deeply by both men.

The tranquility of the evening, punctuated by their shared escapade, had not only provided a respite from their duties but had also served to reinforce the depth of their connection. In this space, away from the eyes of the galaxy, they were not defined by their titles or responsibilities. Here, they were simply Obi-Wan and Cody, two individuals who had found in each other an unwavering ally, a confidant, and a source of unanticipated joy.

As they prepared to retire for the night, the comfort and peace they found in each other's company was a beacon in the quiet darkness, a gentle reminder that amidst the vast and often turbulent galaxy, they had each found a harbor in the other - a safe haven where they could truly be themselves, unguarded and understood.

So that was it, I know it's not my best work, but I still hope you liked it, comments and likes are always welcome.

#obi wan kenobi #commander cody #codywanbingo #commander cody fanfiction #obi wan kenobi x commander cody #obi wan fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars fandom #love #fluff #romance #sweet moment

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fantodsdhrit · 1 year

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at your circumference i could only meet myself over and over again

impotent

to the call of separation: the more arbitrary the notions the more you

chose yourself only

yourself: and your shades

of turtlenecks

and when you crossed breasts you said: d----- you hideous samson but

feigned it as perfect

meaning: your faulty

evaluation of your own beauty and sublimeness of filter usage denim

shirt and dali moustache

getting over the past-lips

with shag delilah haircut:

i'm a plaything of all the wars that no one fought and no one won: no one

stayed and no one

touched for once

like they promised: hemlock or elixir what does it matter if it all tastes of

oblivious losses

what of one's visage: a hungry infant before the tracings expand for the

sake of engulfing

all definitions

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shima-draws · 2 years

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Highlights from tonight’s Game Grumps live show!! If you’re going to the live show this month and don’t want any spoilers or giveaways about what it’s about please stop reading here 💕

Also apologies for my crappy photo quality but I was sitting kinda far away also my phone is old but I WANTED TO SHOW THEM ANYWAY

-Arin came out in a dress and Dan came out in a knight outfit

-Dan called for Matt to play sexy music they could strip to. Matt played the Chicken Dance song. Dan and Arin proceeded to sexily strip to the Chicken Dance song.

-The audience was split into two halves; the grump side and the not so grump side. We proceeded to chant for our respective side for the remainder of the show

-Dan asked one of the audience participants to describe Arin’s ass in one word. She said “dainty”. Arin turned around and shook his ass at the crowd and said “My ass is juicy as fuck!!” The crowd started to chant JUICY AS FUCK. JUICY AS FUCK. JUICY AS FUCK

-There was a rhythm game at one point and Arin and Dan sung the 2nd BEST Zelda Rap Ever!!!! It was INCREDIBLE

-CHERRY VANILLA AND ROCKY ROAD

-An ongoing gag was the villain of the show (a sentient hamburger named Burgie) revealing that he’d kidnapped PRINCESS MUSTARD and PRINCE PICKLE to which Arin and Dan revealed they were dating them. The royals then revealed they were dating each other so everyone is dating everyone I guess

-Also Burgie kidnapped Matt Mercer who also revealed he’s dating Arin and Dan

-Burgie reveals he was the one who made Arin accidentally end the game in their Battle Kid playthrough out of jealousy

-As a boss fight, Arin was forced to play Battle Kid and beat the Lotus Guardian while the audience (and Dan) cheered him on

-Arin was able to win and he picked Dan up and swung him around in circles in a hug 🥺

-Burgie came back for a Final Boss fight, Arin and Dan fought against him using the audience’s cheers as power. Arin and Dan’s fursonas did a literal fusion dance together (their last pose being filtered with an explicit warning LMAO) and fused into an EPIC DAN-ARIN FURRY to defeat Burgie

-They also faced off against smaller bosses like one of their many Links and David Cheeseman and Frank from House Party which CRACKED ME UP

-Since this was their third show on tour, Arin and Dan were actually tied 😳 But Dan’s side won tonight so now the score is 2-1!

-Arin said his side was the sexier side even tho we lost

-Dan kept complimenting people in the audience and things he noticed about them and it was so sweet…….

-Also Dan calling Arin his best friend 🤧

-There were CROWNS in our seats!! I have a Grump crown because I was on the Grump side for Arin

It was SUCH a fun show and I’m so glad I got to go see them!! And I guess it’s been a long time since they’ve come to Denver so they seemed pretty excited and so did the audience haha

#Shima speaks #I’m so so so glad I bought tickets I’m so glad I got to see them #It was such a good show I haven’t laughed that much in a while #They always make me smile 💕 Thank you Danny and Arin 😭#I took a lot of videos haha #Bad quality but I have them in my possession now and forever #Game Grumps #Game Grumps Live #Idk how I should spoiler tag this? Uh? Ask to tag?#Long post

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bluebell-love · 24 days

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Here's my oc, Lobelia

She's named after a type of flower. I was originally going to name her Bluebell, but it felt overdone, and too close to Flowerbell, so Lobelia won.

Lobelia comes from a village that's rather close to a human town, and thus has taken some influence from the humans, in the way their cottages look, the way they speak, and how they dress. Despite her name being a plant (like the female smurfs under Willow's care) most of the smurfs in her village are named after other things in nature, whether it be animals or rocks/gems (ex. Sparrow or Emerald)

Lobelia works with and runs errands for her village's leader, often getting distracted and sidetracked. She's a very happy and optimistic smurf, and also pretty hardheaded at times when things get in her way. Once she has her mind made up, it's very difficult to get her to change it.

Fun facts about Lobelia:

When she first met the smurfs from Papa's village, she found it strange that everyone was named after their skill or personality, and was scolded by her own leader when she voiced this (sometimes she forgets to have a filter)

She has a natural form of magic but cannot control it in the slightest yet, and thus studies and practices with her leader. She tries to use it, but it can be very unreliable and unpredictable.

She absolutely adores Grouchy, he does not feel the same way about her (Or if he does, he doesn't show it), yet that doesn't deter her from constantly hanging out with him and talking his ear off.

She started out not liking Brainy and constantly arguing with him, but the more they fought and rivaled, the more they realized they weren't very different from each other.

She, Lettie (smurfette if you missed my first post), and Blossom are besties

She has a small crush on both Gutsy and Storm

That's about it for now, if you have any questions, feel free to send an ask

#smurfs #smurfs au #the smurfs #smurf oc #smurfs art

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ghoulsstolemyheart · 1 year

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The Clock Is Ticking

Angst, hurt/no comfort, nightmares

After the ominous appearance of a new coffin, Copia finds himself uncertain and spiralling. Surely Sister Imperator wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. Right?

The squeak of those damn wheels rang in Copia’s ears the rest of the night, Saltarian’s smile flashing across his mind as he just tried to focus on his game. He let his controller drop to the floor and pushed nervous hands through his hair. His end was coming and there was nothing he could do about it.

Since being appointed as Papa, he knew that one day this would come to pass. But he’d hoped that it wouldn’t be so soon. Primo and Secondo had a good few years of retirement before they’d been executed. Even Terzo got a little while to enjoy life post-papacy. Copia had wished that he too would have the small mercy of being left alone after retiring, at least for a while. But clearly that wouldn’t be the case.

The last few years flashed past him as Copia wracked his brain trying to figure out where he went wrong. Perhaps if he had been more charming, actually won any of the awards he’d been nominated for instead of sitting in the audience while some other act was called onstage. Maybe if he’d been more like the others, they would have a little more sympathy.

A tight, constricting anxiety rose in his chest and he found himself taking shallow breaths as he fought off a panic attack. No wonder they were getting rid of him. You can’t take over the world when your leader gets all worked up over the sight of an empty coffin.

He tried to sleep. Blowing out his candles and shutting off the TV, Copia wrapped his duvet tight around himself to try and counteract the fear that choked him like a thick smog. But sleep did not bring him the comfort he sought.

His chest heaved and he opened his eyes to find himself enclosed in a clear perspex coffin. Rapid breaths fogged up the lid, obscuring his vision, but he didn’t need to see to know where he was. The blue satin of his chasuble rustled as he thrashed about in his coffin, fists slamming into the walls as the muffled sound of laughter and excitement filtered in from outside. Camera flashes made him turn his head and Copia screamed at the people outside for help. They posed with his coffin, seemingly unaware that he was very much alive and completely terrified.

Through the sea of bodies, Copia saw another coffin. Terzo lay unmoving in his own box, the box he’d been put in so Copia could become Papa, and Copia wept. This can’t be my fate, he thought, Sister Imperator wouldn’t let this happen to me.

He tried to break out of the coffin again. Limbs crashing into the thick acrylic hard enough that he could feel the bruises forming. More people gathered at his coffin to take photographs and peer in at him as if he were an exhibit at a museum.

“No matter how much you beg them, fratellino, they will never help you.” A familiar voice rang loud and clear in his head, their words filling his stomach with a terrible sense of dread.

Copia whipped around again to see Terzo, staring wide eyed at him from across the room they were displayed in. His gaze was eerily hollow and he could see the stitches from when the mortician had sewn Terzo’s head back on and the sight of it made Copia retch.

“I tried, believe me, but once you’re in here there’s no going back.”

Terzo turned his head back and let his eyes slide shut just as another stampede of fans entered and started snapping photos, the sounds of Copia’s screams locked in the coffin with him.

Is this what his brothers had been enduring the whole time he was in power? Is this what Copia had so selfishly condemned them to? Breathing somehow even more frantic and tears soaking the hair at his temples, he turned once more to look at Terzo. He cried out for his brother, the sound of his voice having provided a tiny modicum of comfort, but he stayed still in his coffin.

Copia woke screaming, the floor cold against his face. That was one of the few pros of having your mattress on the floor, not far to fall when you roll out of bed. He took in deep, shaking breaths as he tried to calm himself and his cheeks were wet with tears still falling from his eyes. The dread from before ever present and more persistent in his heart, Copia crawled back into bed and pulled the blankets tight around himself as if they could protect him from the horrible thoughts swirling through his mind.

Imperator wouldn’t let that happen… right?

#the band ghost #papa emeritus iv #ghost bc #ghost fanfiction #sorry this is so short I’ve been really busy with work lol

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murthastick · 10 months

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--- I haven't written in a while - especially not in English. Please be kind ---

Shura was standing diligently, her martial stance polished by years of training. Her feet, clad in silvery sabatons, were planted firmly in the soft pink and white clovers that covered the ground. One of her hands wrapped in armored gauntlets was loosely closed into a fist and resting behind her back, while the other was supporting her blue crested helmet at around the height of her left hip. The morning light filtering through the branches overhead bounced off her spotless breastplate, forcing her to squint slightly when the reflection would hit her eyes. The summer breeze swaying her blue cape was saturated with the warm scents of pine sap and sun-bleached soil. And lavender. She took a deep breath. It was undeniably a fine morning there in the palace’s gardens, and yet even the expensive perfume of her ward tasted bitter, and the sunlight on her skin felt cold. Something’s been on her mind for some time - “on her mind” feels a tad reductive, she’s lost her sleep over it - and she had finally mustered the courage to bring it up that day. She wasn’t expecting the chance would present itself so early in the morning, though.

A faint smile crept on her lips as she thought about the irony of this folk hero, protector of the city, who fought and won countless battles against both monsters and men, feeling her own knees lock and stomach churn in fear at the prospect of… having a talk.

- Thought of something amusing?

Shura turned towards Fern, comfortably sitting sideways on the elegantly carved marble bench a few paces away. Her white linen dress hit by the sun gave an ethereal glow to her light purple skin. The elf tucked a rebellious tuft of hair behind her long ear, looking back with a wide smile and a curious glint in her eyes. Shura felt a pang in her chest. She knew that if she were to speak now, her voice would betray her, so she simply softened her gaze and shook her head. If Fern noticed anything seemed off, she didn’t show it. Instead, she leaned forward and plucked another flower to add to the wreath that was slowly taking shape on her lap, humming a cheerful tune.

A few more moments passed quietly. The half-orc began slowly pacing back and forth, trying to hide her restlessness behind the facade or a professional royal guard on duty. Left, right, left, right. Stop. Turn around. Left, right, left, right. Stop. Another deep breath. She tilted her head back and briefly closed her eyes, letting the light caress her face. Another gust of wind carried along the muffled, worried voices of the maids and butlers calling out for the princess. She didn’t have much time. If she wanted to talk, she needed to do it now.

- Are you sure about this?

Fern didn’t look up from the second garland she was braiding, fighting against a sprig of lavender that didn’t quite want to stay in its place.

- About avoiding a tedious gathering His Lordship my father organized without caring for my opinion on the matter? - she chuckled, shaking her head - I have never been more sure, dearest. Shura’s lips narrowed in a serious line. - That is not what I meant, Princess.

The formal tone confirmed that something, in fact, was not right. Fern lowered her feet from the bench to the grass below, straightened her back and folded her hands over the wreath on her lap, inquiringly tilting her head. Her guard could feel those green eyes locked on her and sighed deeply. Shura’s gaze wandered to the side and fell on a dried bush that suffered too much from the previous winter’s cold and never recovered. The graying leaves blurred together as she racked her brain about what to say next. Fern waited patiently in silence for her companion to find the right words, plucking the petals off the flowers on her knees in an attempt to suppress her growing concern. Shura cleared her throat after what felt like an eternity. - My mother died last month. The elf nodded, doleful, as her ears dropped slightly. - How are you two faring? - Still grieving, of course. Father is holding on rather well. We all knew it was coming -. She pinched the bridge of her nose and furrowed. - But that’s besides the point. She didn’t know what Fern’s face must have looked like, she couldn’t bring herself to glance her way. The fist behind her back clenched harder. - She was a little over 40 summers. That’s old, for an orc. I’ll be lucky if I’ll live to see my 70’s. How many more years do you have in you? Five, seven hundreds? The response was gentle and measured. - That is the expected lifespan of my kind, yes.

The sabatons kicked a pinecone and made it disappear in a patch of taller grass. - D’you ever think about it?

Fern sighed quietly and set the now bare flowers to the side, absentmindedly running her fingertips along the marbling of the bench. - I cannot deny I do. Quite often, as a matter of fact. It’s hard to ignore how time leaves its mark on everyone but me and mine. Shura felt the warmth leave her body and a painful pressure in her palms and heart. She bit her lip and fought back the tears stinging in her eyes. - So we agree. Fern’s ears twitched, confused. - Forgive me, dearest. I’m not sure I follow. The half-orc sucked air through her teeth and set down her helmet on the ground before pacing back and forth once again, her arms crossed tightly on her chest. The more she talked, the more her tone turned pained and frustrated. - Even if we don’t consider our… social differences… agh, what am I trying to say here -. She scratched the back of her head before continuing. - You deserve someone of your status, someone of your kind, that’ll be able to give you the best life you might ever need, and who will be there for the rest of your life.

The princess raised an eyebrow. - And what if, pray tell, you are what I’ll ever need? - Archer’s teats, Fern! - she lashed out - My life is nothing but a heartbeat compared to yours. You’ll have to bury me just like my father did with mother, and it’ll be all too soon! Why are you doing this to yourself? Fern’s expression darkened as her ears dropped and she lowered her gaze to her knees. She crumpled the linen in her hands, frowning, and Shura felt her heart sink. She took a step closer. - Fern… You should give those suitors a chance. It’s what’s best for you. The laughter that burst out of those lavender lips took the half-orc aback. She looked, baffled, as the girl threw her head back and wiped a tear from her eye, giggling like a child, and she cursed herself for the warmth that view spread in her stomach. It was the most beautiful sound, and she - she thought - will probably never hear it again. - Imagine -, Fern started, fighting back another wave of giggles, - Imagine for but a moment, the most delicious food you’ve ever eaten in your life. Simply decadent, and yet the serving is small enough to vanish in a single bite. Now, would you gladly partake in such a delicacy, knowing that it won’t last long and you’d wish for more, or would you refuse? Shura’s jaw dropped in disbelief. - What.. - Forgive me, the metaphor might have not been the most appropriate, but you’ll recognize it follows the same logic you just displayed. Fern breathed deeply until the laughing fit calmed down, and she turned a more serious look towards her guard. - First of all, I would appreciate it if you of all people wouldn’t tell me what is or is not in my best interest. It is a conduct I would expect from my father, but I thought you had a modicum of trust in my judgment. This time it was Shura’s ears that dropped, ashamed, as she continued : - And about your main concern… you’re right. Your lifespan might only be a short breath compared to mine, but by the Archer -, she got up from the bench and tenderly held Shura’s hands, so big and rough compared to hers, and looked into those ice blue eyes with a smile of pure adoration, - by the Archer, dearest, it would be the sweetest, most refreshing and invigorating breath of air that will ever bless my chest, and I intend to fill my lungs with it until they’ll burst. Her hands were so unfairly soft and delicate. Shura felt her cheeks flush as she stared at her love’s big, bright eyes, then the curve of her lips. Has her perfume always been this good? She found herself slowly leaning forward towards her face, but stopped in her tracks as Fern pressed a finger against her mouth and pouted. - So no, Shura. You cannot dump me. She could not help but let out a quiet chuckle at such a mundane sentence. She leaned her forehead against Fern’s and opened her mouth to speak, but a sudden noise nearby made both take a step back and stand straight up. The voices of the servants were now loud and clear, and getting closer. She picked up her helmet from the ground and assumed her royal guard stance once again, as the princess huffed and flattened the creases of her skirt with her fingers. - We could talk more about it later. Seems like my little escapade has been cut short. Shura muttered an approving grunt. - Mh. Let’s. She felt Fern’s tender touch on her forearm for the briefest of moments before the elf started walking forward to meet the people looking for her. Shura followed suit, diligently staying on the princess’ left just a step behind her. She turned her eyes to the sky, ignoring the maid scolding them both, and let the sun soak her skin. The wind was warm and smelled of pine sap and lavender. It was a fine morning.

#Fresh Lavender and Dead Leaves #ocs #oc writing #murthastick #dnd oc #sapphic #beginner writer

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tiderideraa · 1 year

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if i removed the disney filter then d2 and d3 would look like

random d2 divergences / hcs :

harry knocked ben out, gil carried ben back to the lost revenge while harry delivered the message to c3 for mal to meet uma at the chip shop

he spent the rest of uma’s night shift on the lost revenge tormenting guarding ben

the whole swords and shields team went to the isle to save ben

why? because the c4 needed the numbers, and you can’t tell me that the s&s team weren’t incredibly close to ben, and because the s&s team were as desperate as lonnie to prove their worth in a real fight

also lonnie fighting alongside the whole team in a real fight would have had the whole team back her as captain and respect her the same way that mulan did with yao, ling, and chien po, which is a cool parallel to make

in the fight during it’s going down, there are deaths on both sides, the c4 and the sea3 do not escape the fight unscathed

lonnie and uma have the highest body counts by the end of the fight with 2 - 2, i can see harry skewering one of the s&s members before the auradon side escapes the docks and one s&s member and two pirates later succumbs to their wounds after the fight

( which means the 3 doa s&s members are left behind on the isle, their bodies are not recovered and the wounded s&s member dies in the limo before they go through the barrier )

( whereas the 2 wounded pirates die during the cotillion riots or to infection and lack of medical supplies )

main reason for the s&s team losing more members than the pirates in the initial battle is that the pirates have been fighting real life or death battles their whole lives, they’re going to be more brutal, more merciless, and there will be no hesitation when it comes to making a killing blow

personally, i like the concept of jay and carlos being responsible for the 2 dead pirates but it could easily have been mal or one of the other s&s members. i can’t see evie being a killer so while she won her fight with jonas, i don’t think she would have killed him or anyone else, the same goes for ben. he wants to build bridges, compromise, he wants there to be a future between uma and her pirates, and auradon and i think he would believe that it wouldn’t be impossible if he killed one of uma’s pirates

uma used her own magic to spell ben, not mal’s book

random d3 divergences / hc :

harry and the lost revenge timed how long the barrier remained open after someone used the auradon remote

stealing the c4′s bikes was planned so that the c4 would be forced to walk, therefore leaving the barrier open long enough for harry and gil to get through

the initial plan was to escape the isle, find uma, find a way to bring the barrier down but obviously, uma found them first

harry and jay actually fought each other in the gardens. it was very violent.

the knight armor battle was extremely brutal. harry lost his left hand during the fight and i would think that the others were also grievously wounded before mal and uma are able to utilize their combined magic to crush the armored knights

uma and mal then heal their respective friends / team using their magic, so harry doesn’t lose his hand permanently, it’s just for the parallels, the vibes, the throw away reference to his dad

harry and gil agree to help find ben only because uma asks them to. harry hopes to have ben owe him a favor for it.

harry gets very annoyed and jealous when gil and jay appear to bond / become friendly with one another

when they encounter beast!ben, jay get’s badly slashed when he saves harry. gil, harry, and carlos come together to protect jay, who is too wounded to move, from a cursed ben

carlos is the only one who manages to get through to ben long enough for jane to appear with the enchanted lake water, weakening the curse enough for ben to retain his mind and awareness but it isn’t enough to turn him back into a human

with jane’s help they’re able to slightly heal jay’s wounds but not enough for him to move on his own. harry and gil build a stretcher, ben carries it, and they make their way back to evie’s start up castle. harry thanks jay for saving him.

when they reach the castle, mal and uma are able to heal jay completely. they all go to flora, fauna, and merryweather’s cottage to find audrey. instead they find chad.

mal is forced to come clean about closing the barrier forever when uma brings up her promise to free all the vks

celia still takes the ember and tarnishes it with water. uma and harry leave for the isle, intent at finding a way to lower it and help the pirates and vks escape

when mal finds them to get help, they reject her but celia’s capture forces uma to help mal while harry climbs the tower to get celia out of danger

once the scepter is destroyed and audrey is cursed to sleep, uma, harry, and celia return to audrey’s dorm with the others

uma, harry, gil, and celia return to the isle. harry orders the twins to stay in auradon with dizzy ( and to prank the c4 as often as they can )

2 months go past before mal and ben bring the barrier down, in that time, uma was voted in as captain once again and her and the lost revenge crew conquered the entire east coast of the isle and uma has been hailed the pirate king

in general, the isle is split into districts or territories which are led and governed by faction and gang leaders. these leaders come together to establish a general law and order and uma becomes the reigning leader over them all

on the isle, uma is recognized as king ( non gendered specific ), in auradon she’s recognized as the isle’s ambassador and senior advisor

mal is not the queen of the isle come on now

#. meta . › where ocean meets sand .#some of these headcanons are wishful thinking #i don't intend to force implement them into this blogs canon #they're fun tho.

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spiribia · 2 years

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corny as all hell but i had a half dreamed thought where aurene just exploded with like pent-up prismatic essence of the elder dragons she’d absorbed in the fight against soo-won and the dragonvoid and their filtered magic helped wrestle their respective dragonvoid counterparts and while not like their full on spirits or anything maybe it was parts of them that fought against the void while they were still alive and their presence would help soo-won remember herself or something. like sheer force of will to keep going against seemingly inevitable doom or something equally endwalker

#gw2 #talks #does this even make sense. <- just here to draw dragons at this point

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mcbethins · 2 years

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Would like to know more about Harumi/Hanzo/Kuai AU🤔

Thank you for asking! I love this WIP and do intend on finishing it one day...Please enjoy this sneak preview!

(warning for MK typical violence, injury, mentions of physical abuse, panic/PTSD response, brief mention of child endangerment)

Darkness, suffocating heat, crack!

Hot blood trails down warmed skin

Too warm, too open

Wound he's an open

Wound

Crack!

Stop

Crack!

Please

Crack!

Please no more, no more, no more--

***

He had to keep moving; that was the lone thread of knowledge stringing along his weary body.

Lungs ached, heart beat, feet struck the earth unraveling that thread. Dirt, leaves, birdsong filtered into reality. No snow, no ice.

He stumbled, pain lancing through his leg, causing him to miss the hiss of something flying through the air.

"Get over here!" Came a ferocious cry and then there was pain stabbing through his shoulder as he was yanked through the air, coming to rest with a hand around his throat as the blade was pulled out of him unceremoniously.

"Where are the rest of you Lin Kuei scum?" Growled out the pissed off Shirai Ryu.

Despite the pain and panic; maybe because of it, Kuai Liang couldn't help but roll his eyes. How was he supposed to answer if he couldn't breathe?

With a grumble, the yellow garbed man dropped Kuai to the ground, watching him sputter.

"Well?" Kuai raised his head only to meet the tip of a very sharp kunai between his eyes.

"There is no one else," Kuai bit out.

The stranger scoffed. "So, you're a spy."

"What? No, I don't give a damn about the Shirai Ryu or the Lin Kuei," his voice darkened, "Not anymore." he winced, getting his teeth. Hanzo instinctively reached for him, catching himself as the man spoke again, "Please, I need to keep going, to cover more ground."

He posed no threat, he was damaged. The haunted look in his wide blue eyes was chilling.

But still, he bore the Lin Kuei colors.

Hanzo grabbed his arm, pulling him up. "You will come with me and the grandmaster will decide your fate."

Kuai Liang weighed his options; if he fought this man and won, he would lose valuable time and energy. Not to mention, gain an angry host of assassin's after him. If he went willingly...well, the last place the Lin Kuei would look for him is in the heart of their greatest enemy's territories.

Perhaps he wasn't completely insane when his mind autopiloted him here.

"Fine," he sighed. Hanzo blinked in surprise before recovering and binding the man's hands in chains. Kuai had to stop himself from laughing. These chains wouldn't stop him or his ice.

He wasn't as thrilled at being blindfolded, but he understood. At least he wasn't being gagged.

Hanzo half dragged the bound man back into Shirai Ryu territory. They didn't have far to go, fortunately.

The way the man just...went without putting up a fight was unsettling. Either he was a spy and this was exactly what he was hoping for...or, or Hanzo didn't know what else.

"Grandmaster," Hanzo's voice reverberated through the hall, gaining him the attention of his father and his attendants.

And his wife who must have been visiting.

"I found this Lin Kuei running through the outskirts of our territory." He pushed said man forward. "On your knees," he barked.

The man complied, grimacing as his knees met the hardwood floor. He touched the bleeding wound on his shoulder and frowned.

Hikaru Hasashi gave his son a questioning look.

"Running through?"

"He claims he is running away from the Lin Kuei."

Some of the older warriors scoffed, conversation bubbling up between them.

Hiakru raised his hand, silencing them. He walked down from the dias, coming to stand before their prisoner.

"Take that off," he ordered his son who removed the blindfold. Kuai blinked furiously at the sudden light.

"One does not simply leave the Lin Kuei from my understanding," Hikaru began, studying the weary figure before him. "What could possibly inspire you to defect?"

The man smiled, amused. "Perhaps it was what inspired your founder to defect."

The grandmaster made an amused sound. "Explain."

"The Lin Kuei...I…" he shook his head. "My last mission, they wouldn't tell me who the target was until she was standing right in front of me."

He recalled frightened, wide eyes. A dropped teddy bear.

"I asked her how old she was," his voice was soft, "only eight," his fists clenched. "I put her on a boat for America."

Gods, he hoped she was alright.

"My mission partner found out and told the elders." Kuai sighed deeply, steeling himself. "The punishment was severe."

"You are barely wounded," Hanzo remarked.

"If you allow me to remove my tunic, you will see the truth."

Hikaru nodded and Hanzo begrudgingly removed his chains, wishing Harumi had stayed home today.

Kuai hesitated for a moment before ripping his tunic off with a pained hiss. He prostrated himself as he would before the Lin Kuei grandmaster so that the results of his punishment were plain to see.

Shocked gasps and murmurs ran through the Shirai Ryu. He did his best to numb himself to it, to breathe through it.

It was how he survived so long.

"Gods, there's more blood than skin," an angry feminine voice spoke above his head. "Look, this wound is still weeping."

"Harumi, stay back. He may be dangerous-"

"Dangerous?" She scoffed. "Look at him. He must be in incredible pain."

The couple continued bickering as Hikaru said, "Please, sit up."

Kuai was confused by the politeness, but did as requested, sitting back on his knees.

"How old are you?"

Kuai blinked, "I don't…" his eyebrows furrowed as he thought. "Twenty?"

Hikaru frowned deeply at that. "How did you escape?"

Kuai Liang made to speak, but his throat closed up as his eyes burned and he bowed his head, hands clutching his knees.

He took long, shuddering breaths. He just had to say it. It was only words, a story. He was as ice, transmutable to water; Unbreakable.

He looked back up.

"I...I thought I was going to die." His voice cracked. "I've been punished many times, more so than most because I don't fall in line like the others. I can't, I wont-" He shook his head. "I won't hurt innocent people." There was fire in his eyes and steel in his voice. "I don't care--she was a child. A child," he began to sob, hands pulling on his hair.

"Please, continue," Hikaru's voice was gentle. He believed he was looking at nothing more than a young man in serious pain, but he needed to be sure.

"They chained me down in the forge, to an anvil. It was too hot and I couldn't breathe and then they started…" he trailed off, eyes glassy. "I--I was going to die. I lost control. I-" he blanched. "I froze everything."

"You-froze?" Hikaru and Hanzo shared a deeply concerned look. Hanzo's hands clenched around his sword hilt.

"I froze them all, the room, the--the hall. I don't remember--i just ran. I had to keep going. I had to get out. I couldn't see, I just ran. I didn't even know what coordinates the portal was set to. I just went through."

As he spoke his distress grew more and more palpable. A sheen of sweat built up on his skin, but as Hikaru looked closer he realized it wasn't sweat at all but a sheet of ice.

"What is your name, cryomancer?" He asked. The other Shirai Ryu gasped.

"... My title is Tundra. But, my real name is...Kuai Liang."

"Tundra?" A question burned in sharp eyes.

Kuai sighed, breathing through the remnants of remembered terror. He barely heard himself answer, "My older brother is Sub-Zero."

Shocked gasps, more low conversations. A drawn sword from directly behind.

"Surely he is looking for you then? And if not him...Cryomancers are valuable assets to the Lin Kuei."

"Bi-Han probably hopes I'm dead in a ditch somewhere." Tears fell from his eyes, but he was already on his knees, recounting his worst memories to a room full of hostile strangers. He was beyond giving a shit.

"The elders… the grandmaster…" he shook his head. "I don't know what they want, but if you fear my presence here will bring you harm, I will be on my way. They won't know where I've gone," he smiled ever so slightly. "I set the system to self-destruct after I left."

Hikaru considered him for a moment longer. He motioned for some of his people to join him. "We will discuss your case and decide what to do with you, Kuai Liang. For now, my son, Hanzo, will look after you."

"Fa-Grandmaster-"

"You brought him here, Hanzo. You will withstand him until I have decided."

Kuai Liang dared to look back at his captor's furious expression. "Looks like you should have left me in the forest."

Hanzo growled, raising his hand, stopping when the other man flinched. Violently. Falling sideways on to the floor.

Harumi followed, putting the shaking man's head in her lap while Hanzo stood there, stunned.

Harumi's sharp glare told him how unimpressed she was with him.

"I apologise for my bullheaded husband. He has a special hatred for the Lin Kuei."

Kuai Liang closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the feeling of thick cloth against his cheek and calloused fingers running across his scalp. It felt so nice he wanted to cry again. "It's alright," he said instead, "The Lin Kuei…" he shuddered under phantom ringing steel, molten fire piercing his skin. "They're…it's not right."

Hanzo just stared. If this was a trick, it was a damn good one.

"Ah, I see you have already adopted him, beloved daughter in law." Hikaru smiled cheerfully at his son who pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I have a proposition for you, Kuai Liang," Hikaru began. "You will tell us everything you know about the Lin Kuei in exchange for amnesty."

Kuai grimaced as he sat up, grateful for the warm hands assisting him. "You're not going to kill me?"

"We are not butchers," Hikaru said.

"I...I'm not sure how much useful information I have, but-" he looked away, biting his lip. "They...the Lin Kuei have turned to darkness. I have no qualms about such an arrangement." They would sell me out for less.

"Good," Hikaru clapped his hands. Kuai flinched. "Go now, I trust my family will take care of you."

💙💛❤️

Hanzo: please stop touching the trained assassin with ice powers

Harumi: HE'S JUST A LITTLE GUY >:(

#mortal kombat fanfic #subscorp #hanzo/harumi/kuai #kuai liang #hanzo hasashi #harumi hasashi

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