#King Zacharias

[dapperbasil]

If he's learned anything from her over the years, its how to dress for the occasion.

Incredible commission of post-campaign Tammy and Zacharias by @sm0kebreaks, thank you oh so much. I keep staring back at it, I'm obsessed!

#tammy king #zacharias #portland by night #Ventrue's gambit #vtm #Ventrue #Turns out zacharias has dad energy without the suit #Yeah uh dont worry about Tammy's new design #A wound even Vicissitude couldn't fix #Reno's Modern Nights

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

Dedication to Theophilus

1 Inasmuch as many have taken in hand to set in order a narrative of those things which have been fulfilled among us, 2 just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word delivered them to us, 3 it seemed good to me also, having had perfect understanding of all things from the very first, to write to you an orderly account, most excellent Theophilus, 4 that you may know the certainty of those things in which you were instructed.

John’s Birth Announced to Zacharias

5 There was in the days of Herod, the king of Judea, a certain priest named Zacharias, of the division of Abijah. His wife was of the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. 6 And they were both righteous before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless. 7 But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and they were both well advanced in years.

8 So it was, that while he was serving as priest before God in the order of his division, 9 according to the custom of the priesthood, his lot fell to burn incense when he went into the temple of the Lord. 10 And the whole multitude of the people was praying outside at the hour of incense. 11 Then an angel of the Lord appeared to him, standing on the right side of the altar of incense. 12 And when Zacharias saw him, he was troubled, and fear fell upon him.

13 But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zacharias, for your prayer is heard; and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John. 14 And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth. 15 For he will be great in the sight of the Lord, and shall drink neither wine nor strong drink. He will also be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother’s womb. 16 And he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God. 17 He will also go before Him in the spirit and power of Elijah, ‘to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children,’ and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”

18 And Zacharias said to the angel, “How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is well advanced in years.”

19 And the angel answered and said to him, “I am Gabriel, who stands in the presence of God, and was sent to speak to you and bring you these glad tidings. 20 But behold, you will be mute and not able to speak until the day these things take place, because you did not believe my words which will be fulfilled in their own time.”

21 And the people waited for Zacharias, and marveled that he lingered so long in the temple. 22 But when he came out, he could not speak to them; and they perceived that he had seen a vision in the temple, for he beckoned to them and remained speechless.

23 So it was, as soon as the days of his service were completed, that he departed to his own house. 24 Now after those days his wife Elizabeth conceived; and she hid herself five months, saying, 25 “Thus the Lord has dealt with me, in the days when He looked on me, to take away my reproach among people.”

Christ’s Birth Announced to Mary

26 Now in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, 27 to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. 28 And having come in, the angel said to her, “Rejoice, highly favored one, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women!”

29 But when she saw him, she was troubled at his saying, and considered what manner of greeting this was. 30 Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 31 And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bring forth a Son, and shall call His name Jesus. 32 He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Highest; and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David. 33 And He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of His kingdom there will be no end.”

34 Then Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I do not know a man?”

35 And the angel answered and said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Highest will overshadow you; therefore, also, that Holy One who is to be born will be called the Son of God. 36 Now indeed, Elizabeth your relative has also conceived a son in her old age; and this is now the sixth month for her who was called barren. 37 For with God nothing will be impossible.”

38 Then Mary said, “Behold the maidservant of the Lord! Let it be to me according to your word.” And the angel departed from her.

Mary Visits Elizabeth

39 Now Mary arose in those days and went into the hill country with haste, to a city of Judah, 40 and entered the house of Zacharias and greeted Elizabeth. 41 And it happened, when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, that the babe leaped in her womb; and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. 42 Then she spoke out with a loud voice and said, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! 43 But why is this granted to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? 44 For indeed, as soon as the voice of your greeting sounded in my ears, the babe leaped in my womb for joy. 45 Blessed is she who believed, for there will be a fulfillment of those things which were told her from the Lord.”

The Song of Mary

46 And Mary said:

“My soul magnifies the Lord, 47 And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior. 48 For He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant; For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed. 49 For He who is mighty has done great things for me, And holy is His name. 50 And His mercy is on those who fear Him From generation to generation. 51 He has shown strength with His arm; He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. 52 He has put down the mighty from their thrones, And exalted the lowly. 53 He has filled the hungry with good things, And the rich He has sent away empty. 54 He has helped His servant Israel, In remembrance of His mercy, 55 As He spoke to our fathers, To Abraham and to his seed forever.”

56 And Mary remained with her about three months, and returned to her house.

Birth of John the Baptist

57 Now Elizabeth’s full time came for her to be delivered, and she brought forth a son. 58 When her neighbors and relatives heard how the Lord had shown great mercy to her, they rejoiced with her.

Circumcision of John the Baptist

59 So it was, on the eighth day, that they came to circumcise the child; and they would have called him by the name of his father, Zacharias. 60 His mother answered and said, “No; he shall be called John.”

61 But they said to her, “There is no one among your relatives who is called by this name.” 62 So they made signs to his father—what he would have him called.

63 And he asked for a writing tablet, and wrote, saying, “His name is John.” So they all marveled. 64 Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue loosed, and he spoke, praising God. 65 Then fear came on all who dwelt around them; and all these sayings were discussed throughout all the hill country of Judea. 66 And all those who heard them kept them in their hearts, saying, “What kind of child will this be?” And the hand of the Lord was with him.

Zacharias’ Prophecy

67 Now his father Zacharias was filled with the Holy Spirit, and prophesied, saying:

68 “Blessed is the Lord God of Israel, For He has visited and redeemed His people, 69 And has raised up a horn of salvation for us In the house of His servant David, 70 As He spoke by the mouth of His holy prophets, Who have been since the world began, 71 That we should be saved from our enemies And from the hand of all who hate us, 72 To perform the mercy promised to our fathers And to remember His holy covenant, 73 The oath which He swore to our father Abraham: 74 To grant us that we, Being delivered from the hand of our enemies, Might serve Him without fear, 75 In holiness and righteousness before Him all the days of our life.

76 “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Highest; For you will go before the face of the Lord to prepare His ways, 77 To give knowledge of salvation to His people By the remission of their sins, 78 Through the tender mercy of our God, With which the Dayspring from on high has visited us; 79 To give light to those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death, To guide our feet into the way of peace.”

80 So the child grew and became strong in spirit, and was in the deserts till the day of his manifestation to Israel.

#Gospel of Luke #Luke 1 #New Testament #NKJV #New King James Version Bible #Thomas Nelson Inc. #Dedication to Theophilus #John the Baptist's birth announced #Zacharias #Christ's birth announced #Mary #Gabriel #Mary visits Elizabeth #Mary's song #birth of John The Baptist #Circumcision of John the Baptist #Zacharias’ Prophecy

[nuatthebeach]

if harry had a tik tok, it’d all be fan edits with fast-moving scenes of ginny posing, smirking, running her fingers through her hair, zooming through the quidditch field, and beating the shit out of people with her hexes

#he’d even make an edit of zacharias smith turning around and then plot-twisting it to ginny #he’d be the king of edits and using the best badass sounds when it comes to her #harry potter and the king of thirst-trapping #harry x ginny #hinny

[probablygayattorneys]

I know you don’t actually, like, talk to Barnam at the end of PLvsPW but just from his design it’s clear he became a beach boy and it’s so funny he was like “nah, I’m not going to work in law anymore, I’m going to buy a boat and become the worst guy you know”

#professor layton vs phoenix wright #zacharias barnham #especially with how similiar he is to Nahyuta #imagine if Nahyuta decided to do that at the end of soj #king shit #queue takumi defense squad #plvpw spoilers

[dewitty1]

Fic Recs Wrap Up January 2024♡(੭ˊ͈ ꒵ˋ͈)੭*･:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

The Wake-up Kiss by Justlikewriting

This time, when Harry found himself without a date for the Ministry Yule Ball, Parvati Patil was unable to step in. So, he was left with the only other viable option: to ask Draco Malfoy. Which would be fine, of course: it had been twelve years since the war after all. And they saw each other regularly now, meeting up with the same group of friends almost every Friday night. Harry, however, obviously hadn’t taken into account just how insufferable Zacharias Smith could be. Rec Post

The Binding and the Loosing by TheGoblinMatriarch @thegoblinmatriarch

Draco Malfoy is a reclusive academic who works on layered generational magic under the pseudonym Scholar Griseo. When he is contacted by a ‘James Black’ for help with a tricky situation with a magical House, he can’t help but notice the similarities between his potential client and Harry Potter. Since he can’t exactly refuse to help the Saviour of the magical world, Draco girds his loins and visits Grimmauld Place, where he ends up involved in what he must presume is one of those classic Harry Potter misadventures. Bonding, sentient Houses, domesticity ahoy! Rec Post

A True Entanglement by Booktopus @thebooktopus

One moment, Harry was minding his own business, going about his workday, and the next, he found himself being dragged across the Ministry by a red string that had somehow curled up in a pretty little bow around his wrist. A story of fate, smut, falling in love, and a string named Harold. Rec Post

Fire Meet Gasoline by lettersbyelise @lettersbyelise

When Draco’s anger management issues land him in St Mungo’s, he thinks his Quidditch career is over. But Harry, A&E Healer and notorious workaholic, is faced with a similar predicament. To save their jobs, the two of them decide to fake a relationship. All they have to do is convince their friends and employers… and not fall in love in the process. Simple, right? Rec Post

Everything is Relative to You by honeybeet @thehoneybeet

Potter was supposed to have lived. Draco is certain of this. That Potter would no longer walk the earth was tantamount to the sun moving west to east across the sky. If only he could have stopped this from happening, if he’d have known… It comes to him as ideas often did: too late. Or, Harry dreams of his past lives, and Draco is in every one. Rec Post

we’ll keep the king by BlueSundayCake  @bluesundaycake

On a cold December morning, Remus Lupin shows up on Severus Snape’s doorstep with a child with very familiar eyes. Rec Post

Evitative by Vichan  @k-vichan

In the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry is drawn to a room in Grimmauld Place. Like the Gryffindor he is, he enters the room without fear. The room is a library, and Harry is surprised to find that he’s eager to learn.

Then he gets the bad news: he’s been accidentally expelled from Hogwarts, and he needs to be sorted again. Everyone is confident that he’ll go straight back to Gryffindor, but with what he’s been learning, Harry’s not so sure. Rec Post

The White Pawn by Soupy_George @soupy-george

When eighteen-year-old Draco Malfoy finds himself back at Hogwarts on the eve of Voldemort’s infamous return, he is confronted with the most difficult decision he’s ever had to make: Relive the 6th year at school he’s tried so hard to forget, or do the unthinkable and ally himself with Potter’s lot… Rec Post

Howlr by partialtopotter @partialtopotter

Howlr is the new dating application enchanting Witches, Wizards and Everyone in between. Are you looking for the one or a one-night stand; it’s all here folks. Howlr is sponsored by Weasley Wizard Wheezes, the same team that brought us the Spellular just two years ago. Ginny Weasley, famed chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, swears by the app, ‘guaranteed to make sparks fly,’ she says. The magic awaits you! Rec Post

Here are a few more fics I've read recently that y'all might like to check out as well!(ノﾟ∀ﾟ)ノ━☆ﾟ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･.*･｡ﾟ*:・ﾟ✧

Inevitable [Drarry] by violenttulips

After the war, Harry Potter becomes a talented Senior Auror with a penchant for injury in defense of his colleagues. Draco Malfoy leaves the country for five years and becomes an accomplished Specialty Healer. He comes back after he accepts a job at St. Mungo's Hospital. When they meet again, it's clear that Draco has changed significantly in the years since they attended Hogwarts together, and Harry finds himself strangely attracted to his former rival. But things never come easy for the Boy-Who-Lived, and that's not about to change now.

Learn To Fly by Ladderofyears @ladderofyears

January 2004: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are two of the finest Seekers in England, deadly rivals and secret lovers. As far as Draco is concerned, that's how it'll stay forever. He is betrothed to beautiful heiress Astoria Greengrass, and they are due to have a big summer wedding. Everything changes during a hotly fought Arrows versus Wimbourne game when Draco falls from his broom. To his huge shock, when Draco awakes in St Mungo's, he discovers he is pregnant. What will Draco do, now everything in his tidily compartmentalised life has to change?

He Comes Like a Thunderstorm by korlaena @korlaena

Draco is doing his best to balance the life he wants to live and the life he’s forced to live. He’s nearing the tail-end of a long, post-war probation when Harry Potter crashes back into his life with all the grace of a charging Erumpent, breaking through his carefully constructed rules and routine. Caught up in a whirlwind of sex and lust, Potter unwittingly shows Draco that his life as an Incubus doesn’t have to be as lonely and unfulfilling as he thought, but how long can it last?

Denouement by the_never_was 

Pale face in paler hands, he is devoid of color. He is only the moonlight. And he wonders if he'll find the sun. A story about Draco entering a period of change that will either shatter him or enfold him into Harry Potter's world.

( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡ I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I have! Happy reading, y’all! xoxo Carey  (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*💜💙💚💛❤💗💕💖

#Fic recs wrap up January 2024 #Fic Recs Wrap Up #Drarry Fic Recs #drarry #Fic Recs #hp Fic Recs #harry potter #draco malfoy #hp #Harry Potter fic recs #Drarry fanfiction #Harry Potter Fanfiction #drarry fic #drarry smut #drarry fanart #severitus #Snupin #Servus snape #Remus lupin #hp fic #hp fanfiction #hp fanart #smut #hp smut #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fic #hp fanfic #my fic recs #Carey's Bookmark Fic Recs #long post

[themuseumwithoutwalls]

MWW Artwork of the Day (6/27/22) Albert Edelfelt (Finnish, 1854–1905) Queen Bianca (1877) Oil on canvas, 96.5 x 75.5 cm. Ateneumin Taidemuseo, Helsinki

"Queen Bianca" stemmed from Albert Edelfelt's longstanding dream of illustrating Finnish history. History painting was long considered the most esteemed artistic genre, and leading figures in the Finnish art world were encouraging up-and-coming artists to take on historical subjects. This work is based on a tale by Zacharias Topelius. The painting depicts a historical person, Queen Bianca, who was the spouse of Swedish King Magnus Eriksson and who arranged a marriage between her son Haakon (here sitting on her lap) and Princess Margareta of Denmark. This resulted in a union between Sweden and Denmark that lasted from 1397 to 1453. While bouncing her son on her knee, Queen Bianca sings to him of these plans. The enduring appeal of the work undoubtedly lies in the maternal love it conveys, a subject that awakened the public's interest amidst all the war and battle-themed paintings on display.

For more of this artist's work, see this MWW gallery/album: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?vanity=TheMuseumWithoutWalls&set=a.3509503849154959

#albert edelfelt #Queen Bianca #finnish artist

[saintsenara]

Unhinged ships, Dark Lord edition! Hot Tom, waxy Voldemort, or noseless Voldemort, as you prefer.

Voldemort/Nearly Headless Nick

Voldemort/Zacharias Smith

Voldemort/Rufus Scrimgeour

Voldemort/Elphias Doge

Voldemort/Gilderoy Lockhart

Bonus: Voldemort/Gilderoy Lockhart/James Potter

cheers, anon. here goes.

nicholas de mimsy-porpington/tom riddle

we know that young tom canonically spends his teenage years trying to chat up helena ravenclaw [king... come on... try and pull the living]. well, what if he didn't know she was the specific ghost he needed to finesse the diadem's whereabouts out of, but instead only knew that he needed to speak to a ghost?

cue him biting his tongue hard enough to bleed as he tries to smile placidly through "here's all the reasons i should be allowed to join the headless hunt" for hours on end.

[he made ginny target nick with the basilisk in revenge.]

zacharias smith/lord voldemort

since zacharias is in hufflepuff, my assumption is that he's a relation of voldemort's erstwhile nemesis, hepzibah "didn't i tell you i was distantly descended?" smith.

which means... flopping, i'm afraid! lord v's not wasting his time doing customer service simpering now he's not stuck on the minimum wage, and he knows full well that the family hasn't got anything interesting to rob anymore.

rufus scrimgeour/lord voldemort

inherently canonically plausible.

we know from half-blood prince that voldemort has a direct line to the minister, because he contacts fudge to threaten terrorist atrocities [slay!] and i think we can all see this devolving into late night filth.

elphias doge/lord voldemort

hot! they meet at a book club for the life and lies of albus dumbledore and end up passionately kissing after a heated debate about whether rita was right to describe dumbledore as "good at transfiguration".

gilderoy lockhart/lord voldemort

lockhart's tell-all book - double-penetration with dictators - is the prophet's number one best-seller for a full year.

gilderoy lockhart/james potter/lord voldemort

flopping. they're all pillow princesses.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #unhinged and deranged ships #tom riddle #lord voldemort

[bluebellhairpin]

Erwin Smith X Fem!Reader X Miche Zacharias

Summary: Now sovereign ruler, you have to prepare to say goodbye to your family for good. But with the weakness you find in yourself during this time, you also find strength in your new guards.

Warnings: Misogyny. Funeral setting. A single Panic Attack occurrence + recovery. Reader pronouns used are she/her. (Described wearing dresses; called 'queen' as a title.)

Listening to: 'Unshaken' by D'Angelo - "May I stand unshaken amid, amidst a crashing world."

Series Masterlist

Masterlist || Ko-fi || The Safe Space Writing Collab

Long cut short, the fabric lay bare; 

Thread of blue and white, together it can repair; 

Long cut short, whisper the lord’s prayer.

You’d thought your heart was a heavy burden to bear, but it weighed nothing compared to the crown upon your head. 

The crown that, not even a few days ago, had been stained red with your elder brother's blood. They were quick to clean up the mess. 

It was a heavy metal set with too many jewels, and didn't suit the much smaller ceremony that had been held so recently for the same occasion. Your coronation had been tainted with a taste of bitter iron and grief, more a memorial than a time for celebration. An official announcement would be made at dawn tomorrow, just like the announcement made that morning of your family's deaths. 

Their funeral procession would be in a week, and it was your very first responsibility as Queen to make sure everything was to run smoothly. Unlike your brothers, who would've been the visit to the king's guard. 

Your visit, as Queen, was much smaller. Quieter. Pixis, thinking it the best option, brought to you the best he'd ever taught and told you to choose from the finest he had to offer. 

“Your safety is of the most concern, second only to that of your niece and nephew.” Pixis explained as he guided you through the halls to where a smaller selection of guards were waiting. “For now you will have two main guards, instead of one. Therefore we believe you need the best two, two who work best as a team, not just the two who work best on their own.”

“And do you also think so, or do I need to consult these others who belong with the ‘we’ you speak of?” you asked. His body turned inwards as he walked, and you saw the skin next to his eyes crinkle like wrapping paper as he smiled. 

“I can assure you I believe it to be best also.” 

“Then it shall be.” you said, voice quiet as you both came to a stop just outside the courtyard of waiting knights and guards. “I’m putting my life in your hands, I wish you to choose for me since you know these men best. For it I will be eternally in your debt.” 

“You believe so?” he asked. You nodded, surely.

“My father trusted you for so long and he fared just fine. His death wasn't because you were found lacking. I have no reason to doubt you.” 

They were all knights. Fresh faces willing to offer themselves from a place in the field to one in the castle - it was what they’d work up to, the main goal of a pageboy, to serve the king as a knight so directly. It was obvious that’s what most of them were expecting. 

A king. 

Instead they got you, and they made a horrible job at hiding their preference. You were, admittedly, met with the proper respect, however the looks in some of those men’s eyes had you wishing to run away. You almost pulled Pixis aside just to tell him which ones you didn’t want. 

Before you worked up the courage to do so - something that came with the realization that as Queen you needed to do more quickly - he called out two names. Two knights stepped forward. 

Your breath caught in your throat, not just because of the handsomeness of their features, but also the familiarity. 

They were older, but still had that blond hair and blue eyes that haunted your childhood. One bigger and the other more conventionally attractive. 

“Erwin Smith and Miche Zacharias, ma’am.” Pixis said, “They’re in the top three candidates. These two word together so well we often call them -”

“- Brothers.” you finished, looking at Pixis before back at the men. “I see why, at least.” 

“If I may, your majesty,” one of them, Erwin, said, bowing his head low with a hand over his heart, “How are you today?” Your head tilted, wondering why the inquiry, before his hand moved back down and sent a waft of air your way. 

Spiced frankincense, you smelt, and it made sense. 

“I am well,” you said, swallowing harshly yet mustering a smile, “Considering.” 

Your eyes tore from Erwin to look at Miche, standing stoically at attention. He offered a knowing smile when your eyes met and you felt a fluttering in your stomach. 

Pixis went on to explain more, and within an hour you’d seen both other candidates, and Erwin and Miche demonstrate their abilities on the other knights, as well as a show of their general knowledge. You walked back out of the courtyard with a decision made. 

Tomorrow would be their first day as your guards. 

You didn’t notice much about the funeral garb that your handmaidens had stuffed you into. In fact all you really paid attention to aside from it’s color of morning was the veil fastened over your face and how the corset lost it’s usual supportive nature. Now it was rather suffocating, whether due to the day's prospects or because it was simply put on wrong. 

The girl now by your side, new and fresh-faced with hair of harvested wheat and large doe eyes, fixed the hem of your veil. She caught your eyes, and you could tell by her reaction that your gaze was far too harsh for what she deserved. Her glow wilted, and it only made the sour of your heart worse. 

“What’s your name?” you asked.

“Historia, ma’am.” she replied, shyly fiddling with her fingers. 

“That’s a pretty name.” you said lightly, only loud enough for her to hear, and she visibly preened under your words. A beat of silence passed before you spoke again, now taking your turn to fiddle with your fingers. “I think I need a ring, will you choose one for me Historia?” 

She nodded with a hum, turning to the dresser with a jewelry box on it to fuss with its contents. You turned away, facing the door where both Erwin and Miche stood guard. 

They’d been around for a few days now, and while it took a day to get used to them being here rather than your singular old one - who was now who knows where - you had to admit you did take to them rather quickly. 

No doubt your made-up memories of them from your youth was the cause of that. 

But over the short course of time you’d managed to note a few things about them. When two people are around so much, when you have so little to do, observing the only company you have would come easily. 

You saw that Erwin’s hair had changed, longer so that the few times it didn’t stick back it’d obscure his eyes. You noted how his right arm was weak, overhearing on one cold morning how it was a result of an old injury in war. In one conversation you dove into his eyes, so deep and blue, you thought they were the sea you’d drown in before you’d again start paying attention to his words instead. 

He was all muscle, chorded strength like a thickly braided rope and the waves of the seas crashing into cliff sides. He was stubbornness and power and determination, but he was also patience. 

And you could tell all that from a few days. 

Miche was more difficult to read. He took longer to observe. But the times when they’d meet you and you’d still have wet cheeks and red eyes, Miche was the one to offer his aid first. For someone so stoic, he had his heart on his sleeve. A quiet being with zero hesitation to keep those around him safe. 

He had a warmth in his hands that told you everything was going to be okay when he handed you his handkerchief, and a fire in his eyes that warmed your soul like a hearth. 

His hair had also grown, more often than not he’d be brushing it back off his face - he needed to tie it back or cut it. He often abandoned his armor while in the castle, he ran hot with how well his body stored its reserves - clearly seen in how much bigger he was compared to Erwin, and Erwin was by no means a mediocre size man. 

Pixis was right in choosing them. If it were anyone else you knew you wouldn’t have warmed up to them so quickly. Eggshells would still be walked on by both them and you - but with Erwin and Miche, that was not the case. 

Historia returned, offering her hand so she could slide a ring onto a finger on your right hand. You looked down to see your father's signet ring. You supposed, thinking, that just like everything else it was now it was yours. 

She was looking at you expectantly, and although you were still in a mood akin to being rather sour, you offered her the kindest smile you could muster while running a hand down her arm in thanks. 

She scuttled off, returning again with a thick cloak of wool and satin and fur to keep you warm while the snow fell outside, and the funeral pyres of your family burned bright. 

It was already dusk, the pyres had wilted down to smoldering embers, and most of the kingdom who came to pay their respects had already come and gone. 

You’d stayed. A thin layer of snow covered your entire body, and from how still you were in spite of the cold could have anyone fooled into thinking you were a statured relic. 

“You’re Majesty,” Miche’s deep rumble had your head finally turning away from your family. “I know you wish to say, but we must go. It’s not good for a person to be out here any longer.” 

You looked past him to Erwin, standing a ways off in the same ceremonial armor and furs as Miche was. He’d sent his friend to get you, knowing Miche would be softer about gathering you back to the castle. 

But your eyes prickled, the cold stung, you couldn’t feel your fingers and you couldn’t breathe. Like a tree had been fell upon you, your corset was far too tight, too suffocating, you needed it off and you needed to breathe. 

Turning away with a quiet sob, your arms flung to you back under you cloak to attempt at tearing at the chords and ribbon fastening your ribs shut. You weren’t handling this as well as you’d thought at all - and you knew you weren’t handling it well to begin with. 

Miche’s hands flung out to steady you as your legs wobbled in your mild hysteria. 

He could tell you were trying to hear him - but you’d been sent into a panic, you needed something and you weren’t able to convey it properly. A particularly cold chill went down his spine at the thought of you going mad - not an entirely unreasonable thing, considering - but he genuinely liked you. He’d rather give up a pound of his own flesh then watch you descend into emotions you would never recover from. 

Nothing was getting through to you, and Miche knew it wasn’t quite proper - but propriety be damned, you needed help. 

Only when his fingers ghosted each side of your face did you regain some clarity. Your cheeks were ghostly cold. 

“Hey, look at me -” he tried, and even though your eyes were glossed with tears, they still met his own, “- you’re going to be okay. Tell me what you need.” 

Your mouth opened and closed, your voice only procured a croak the first few tries - he was doing his best to soothe you, watching as a tear broke from your lashes and left an icey trial across his finger. 

“Let me help you.” Watching your mouth shut, he thought he said the wrong thing. But then you spoke, wet and quiet and he almost missed it over the wind. 

“I - I need my corset loosened.” He looked in your eyes and saw how you started to not meet them over a wave of embarrassment at your confession. 

Then, ashamed, he noticed how quick your breaths were - that indeed you were having a rough time in that regard - how he should’ve noticed sooner, and why couldn’t he be a little bit more like Erwin without losing so much humanity. But you needed help, and - while he couldn’t admit to undoing a lot of them in his time - your corset wasn’t one that you could undo yourself. 

Miche’s hands moved. His fingers usually weren’t so clumsy, but the cold had been biting at them for hours. In his peripherals he saw Erwin step forward in concern - undressing the Queen, how dare he. A quick look telling him he’ll have it all explained later left him not intervening, but still weary. 

After pulling at your overcoat, dress, and corset, you’d finally calmed. However he could see you were visibly tired, and you’d taken to clutching to a space of fabric at his wrist like it was your lifeline. 

Erwin was concerned - even after they’d taken you inside and your handmaidens had bundled you up to try and get you warm again. 

He knew it wasn’t his place - he hadn’t grown up with royal politics, rather war strategies - but you hadn’t had either. He knew you’d get adviser for those things, you hadn't yet, but he felt in his gut that he wouldn’t like whatever man the court would give you. You hadn’t been genuinely cared for your whole life - only survived so far out of duty and privilege. You were unprepared. 

True, he wasn’t always the best friend anyone could ask for, but he could read rooms as easily as his father could read through books. 

Very early on he could tell no one cared for you, and now he realized how much of a problem that could be. You were so young, and lost so much. You needed friends now more than ever, and yet now more than ever fake, leeches of friends would offer themselves willingly. 

He knew he had a job, a duty that he was to value more than his own life, but maybe keeping you safe in this way was part of his duty. Befriending you, helping you find good people to keep close, and keeping those with ill intent away. 

After you were deemed warm enough, he and Miche were allowed into your room. He walked in second, seeing you tucked into bed - your upper body propped up and sinking into a dozen pillows - and a thick layer of blankets pulled up under your arms as you slowly sipped on a mug of something warm. 

It was late, the fire was going strong and candles were lit across the room. Everyone else had left since you didn’t need them anymore. Them both being allowed in wasn’t actually an accurate statement - they let themselves in because no one was around to stop them. 

The small smile you greeted them with told them you didn’t mind their sudden company. 

You gestured to the end of your bed, telling them quietly that they were welcomed to sit, and Erwin took the invitation gladly. It was a large bed, made you look comically small, so there was plenty of space for the two of them to sit without disrupting you. 

“Are you feeling a little better now, your majesty?” Miche asked, and Erwin watched you intently as you watched the content of your mug swirl around before procuring a reply. 

“Yes, a little.” you said. With your eyes still downcast, and with them both still waiting in case you wanted to continue, you kept going, “I guess I just didn’t want to say goodbye.” 

For some reason Erwin understood. 

Your family didn’t treat you the best - often taking you for granted or leaving you in a corner unnoticed - but they were still your family. They were gone, and you’d still miss them. You still had a right to miss them. 

“Everyone’s grieving.” he heard Miche say quietly, “We’ll miss them too.” 

You finally looked up at them, smiling sadly at Miche before casting a glance over at Erwin. He realized, in that moment, that this was the first time you’d all been left completely alone. 

“I remember you. Both of you.” you admitted quietly, fiddling with your fingers around your mug. “I think it was you, when we were younger.” 

“Near the wisteria vines,” Erwin said, recalling that day he first met the little Princess - now Queen. 

In his mind's eye he could see how you changed - a maturity to your face, and parts of you that slimmed from baby-fat and parts that had filled out. Times were simpler when you were younger - them skimping from training and you simply running away to the gardens for the sake of stirring up trouble. 

“We spent the whole day together.” 

“Ate nectarines from the tree in the secret place you took us to.” Miche said. “My hands were still sticky when I went to bed that night.” That brought a quiet giggle from you - the first of its kind that Erwin had ever heard come from your grown lungs. 

This is a good topic, he thought. 

“Is it still there?” he asked, “The place you showed us?” 

“It is.” You nodded, raising your mug to your lips and taking a large mouthful. “Though now there’s a door, it freezes shut during winter. If you’d want to go you’d have to wait for the thaw.” 

“You’ll have to show us, wouldn’t be the same without you anyway.” Erwin felt himself smile as he watched you fluster. He looked over at Miche, who had a fondness in his appearance that only usually showed around people he’d known for years. 

He supposed, technically, he had known you for years.

You were very grateful about how understanding Miche and Erwin were yesterday. 

You deeply hoped you’d never have to deal with anything like it again - but things like that are never set in stone. At least, you thought that you’d likely have them with you if it were to happen again. 

Very grateful indeed. 

Lying in bed, clutching a too-fluffed pillow to your chest, you looked out the window and watched as the hot red glow of the sunrise dulled to a yellow behind a half dozen clouds. 

Greedily you hoped that they’d get more chances to save you, not just from yourself and your own mind, but other things too - however you dreaded the thought of them getting hurt in return. You could romanticize it all you wanted, but as nice as it was to dream you knew reality could be much more harsh. 

In reality, they were incredibly lucky to still be standing on two feet with beating hearts. Too many others weren’t so fortunate. Time and circumstance kills all, you’ve found, and yet it can also keep people alive. 

You know you want to repay them both. Your knights deserved something good, and you convinced yourself they would keep on deserving. 

Now, just after the cusp of the coldest day the year had seen, you were planning what to do with them that coming summer. Nectarines and honey, with juice running down your fingers and the uncomfortable feeling of the flesh near the seed getting stuck between your teeth. 

It’d be a sunny day with a cool breeze, and it’d be just you three.

Even if your duties got in the way for the rest of your life, you were determined to spare a few hours to yourself with them for this. 

#erwin smith x reader #miche zacharias x reader #erwin smith x female reader #miche zacharias x female reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x female reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #medieval au #royal au #knight au

[lovelytsunoda]

the cedric diggory f1 driver au that nobody asked for but i wrote anyways

all of this started because i was watching goblet of fire and noticed that both renault and hufflepuff share a color scheme

and then i thought that robert pattinson would look very very hot in a race suit

more chaos dedicated to the harbinger of chaos, anj herself (@libraryofloveletters )

in this scenario, the driver lineups are as follows:

ferrari: harry potter, oliver wood, red bull: draco malfoy, blaise zabini haas: fred & george weasley, renault: cedric diggory, zacharias smith

hes lead driver at renault, has been there for two years now

by all accounts, he's a very good driver, especially being as young as he is

but he's still chasing that elusive race win, he just hasn't been able to push the renault far enough

god he looks incredible climbing out of the car, balaclava lines on his face, hair mussed and drenched in sweat

cedric is a humble king always praising his fellow drivers, including ferrari rookie (and his former teammate) harry potter

"yeah, i mean, the pace was there but at the end of the day, it's hard to beat the ferraris. hats off to harry for that one, he really smashed it today, the win was well deserved."

a little wink at the camera, towel around his neck before he backs away with his press officer at his side

he's basically pierre gasly on steroids

the f1 ladies man

literally has fangirls falling over each other to try and get his autograph or a picture with him at signings

he's not the life of the party, leaves that to the weasley twins (they drive for haas, they need SOMETHING to celebrate)

instead he can be found in the back, talking and laughing with the mechanics and the engineers

everybody in the paddock loves him

media darling, you can't tell me otherwise

he's england's sweetheart

the extra tight white fireproofs that show off EVERYTHING

it's silverstone, his home grand prix (although it's also the home grand prix for half of the grid at this point)

and he's feeling great about himself all weekend, cedric has a feeling that he might finally get his win that weekend

a crash in the first corner takes out one of the ferraris and a mercedes

he's not even sure how it happened but somehow he's up into second place with ten laps to go

"alright, ced, the gap between you and blaise is 0.45 seconds, malfoy is almost one second behind. if you can hang on until the drs zone, i think we stand a chance at winning the whole damn thing."

"and diggory has drs! the renault goes down the inside of the red bull of blaise zabini, and he's done it! cedric diggory is leading the british grand prix!"

and the crowd goes MENTAL

"it worked!" cedric screams over the radio. "we're leading the bloody race!"

i imagine that he'd talk a little like george russell on the radio

and when he finally gets to stand on that podium, with the british national anthem pouring out of the speakers as he stands on the top step

hefting the trophy above his head before they're given the all clear to pop the champagne bottles open

god that man would so pretty covered from head to toe in champagne.

a cheeky grin throughout the post race interviews

gets to the cool down room and slumps down in his chair, still in shock over the entire thing as he looks at the little pirelli baseball cap, the british flag and 1st place embroidered on the side.

his girlfriend there in a little yellow sundress filming the podium celebrations

cedric goes over to the blacony above parc ferme (i think that's what it's called? or maybe parc ferme is just where the cars go after a race?) and pours the champagne on her when she's not looking

champagne kisses after the podium celebrations, the paparazzi are swarming and he's holding the trophy in front of their faces for privacy

celebrating afterwards with him you ask???

SPICY CONTENT INCOMING!

a full dinner with the whole team to thank them for their efforts

he's wearing jeans and a white button down shirt, a little cord necklace resting under his collarbone

they're back in the hotel, music playing softly in the background

sharing a bottle of wine and dancing in the candlelight

turns into hot sex

but cedric, despite now having a race win under his belt, still devotes the entire night to pleasing his girlfriend

holding her hand at all times, even when it gets a little rougher by their standards

which it always does during a race weekend when he lands a podium

scratches all down his back

shes on her stomach, one hand behind her back to grasp his hand as he fucks her from behind

calling him 'my race winner' the entire time because it inflates his ego (and turns him on)

endless cuddles afterwards (hes the big spoon, draping his body over hers as he thanks her for being there to support his career, being there for him during every up and down in his career

#hp fandom #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory au #harry potter and the goblet of fire #the biggest shitpost i have ever made #f1 au #harry potter au #and yall though the charles leclerc - pixars cars au was bad

[kriz-fics]

The Sword’s Legacy

Series Summary: As the heir of your father's lands, you have grown up knowing that one day you must wed to your House's advantage, and there's no better catch than the younger son of the Magister himself. Meanwhile tensions within the king's court are set to come to a head at any moment - it just needs that spark to send everything ablaze. Now in a court more dangerous than the one you entered, you find distraction and joy in the company of the beautiful boy with the beautiful eyes. You can only hope to weather the storm you can sense brewing in the horizon.

Masterlist

Chapter Eleven: Sun and Wood

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, Historical Fantasy AU, Romance, Politics, Warfare, Eventual Smut (future chapters)

Length: 11.2K

CW:  Blink and you'll miss nothing. I think.

The boy rushes his opponent hard.

Reiner backs a step to gather himself before meeting the stroke full on with a heavy two-handed slash. Eren pivots quickly aside as his blade gives way under the onslaught. The older, larger boy’s blow glances off his blunted sparring sword and near has him staggering onto one of the sparring grounds’ unlit braziers.

Which is just as well, Levi thinks, watching the boys trade blows from his place at the sidelines beside one of the Warrior’s statues bordering the yard. Blunted they may be but those swords can still raise welts the size of Lovaya, a fate his squire has just narrowly avoided with his timely maneuver. Around them, a handful of other dueling squires and men-at-arms weave about, hacking and slashing at their foes, flesh and straw alike.

Levi had just finished his own bout. His practice blade hangs heavy in his right hand, his body slowly cooling down from the rush of combat. Beside him, Sir Mike Zacharias looks upon the squires’ duel as well, closely following his golden-haired charge.

Reiner Braun has no business being as quick as he is, with all that bulk and muscle, yet quick he is indeed. And fearsomely strong. The greatsword he wields is a mighty cumbersome thing yet it flies in his hands as he assails his slighter rival.

A true Bull. But less reckless, to be sure. Would that he could say the same for his charge. Levi has to admit, though, the boy has mellowed some after…

His mouth tightens and he bites back a sigh as Reiner presses Eren back toward one of the Warriors. There is no use dwelling on immutable things yet Jaeger’s madcap stunt had cost and did not bode well for the boy’s aspired vocation. No knight worth his salt will ever be so foolhardy as to blunder blithely into the lion’s den.

The next few days after that sorry farce were a blur of fraught tension and anxiety for every man of them in the company. Levi had never hit the boy in rage or as chastisement - what bruises his squire received from him always came from practice combat, but the gods alone knew how sore tempted he was to beat the recklessness out of Eren then. The strain of watching Erwin grow steadily worse by the day only served to compound the feeling.

Perhaps blows will serve where shouts could not. Perhaps then the brat will finally get into his thick skull the importance of biding his bloody time.

Yet watching him descend into further guilt and grief stayed Levi’s hand. It would seem that sentiment was a better taskmaster than he was and did more to beat that lesson in the stripling than anything else ever had. Letting Eren fester and stew in his shame seemed more than punishment enough.

“Fierce lads, and grown strong,” Mike remarks, with something akin to pride on his otherwise solemn expression. “I smell knighthoods in their near future.”

“Tch.” Eren is gaining ground fast now, raining blows upon his foeman and keeping Reiner on his heels. “It takes more than skill with arms to make a knight.” Eren raises his sword quick as lightning, catching Braun’s blow to his temple. The impact jars his arm, Levi observes, yet the boy is already moving once more to swing a sidestroke at Reiner’s ribs. The taller boy doubles over as the blow connects but somehow finds enough strength for a counterstroke of his own. It hits Eren’s left shoulder hard, staggering him - at the cost of Reiner’s balance. Eren sees and takes advantage. He swings low and Reiner falls with a grunt, his legs cut out from under him.

“Yield, I yield,” Levi hears Reiner groan out from where he is lying sprawled on the ground. His eyes widen half a heartbeat later, making Eren’s head whip around. The boy tenses as Levi strides toward them, practice blade in tow.

“That was well-fought.” He looks up at his squire and feels a pang of annoyance. Every day seems to have him craning his neck farther and farther back just so he can look the boy in the eye. These brats are only proficient in shooting up like reeds, damn them. He points his blade at Eren, who instantly adopts a doe’s mien. The apple of his throat bobs nervously. “It’s been a long while since we’ve crossed blades. I would know your skill now.”

The boy gapes at him a moment more before the steel sets in. “As you will, Sir.” Eren squares his shoulders and situates himself across Levi. The blunted tip of his sword traces circles in the air, betraying his nerves, yet determination shines through all the same.

Beside them, Reiner picks himself up and hurries off to the side. From the corner of his eye, Levi can see the other sparring souls pausing to watch this burgeoning match between master and squire.

For a while they stand there, master and squire, to take the measure of the other. 

It is not only in height that the boy has grown. He is a good deal broader now, especially about the chest and shoulders. And will grow broader still, doubtless. The arms beneath the sleeves of his dun-colored quilted tunic appear more rounded than they are lean, as they once were an age ago. His blows should come harder now, his reach farther. All to the good, to compensate for the marginal loss of the speed his lither build afforded him before. 

Levi’s grip tightens on his sword. Be that as it may. I will have the truth of that soon enough. He stares at the squire, calm and cool. “Have at it.”

Eren exhales, a quick puff of air, before having at him. His initial blow smashes hard against Levi’s blade. A strong stroke, harder than any he’s ever dealt me before for sure. He pushes the boy back and proceeds to slash at his head and shoulders, forcing Eren to go on the defensive, though not without rejoining with a counterstroke. Levi slides away cat-quick, bringing his blade down toward Eren’s shins. The boy spins away swiftly and catches his master with a powerful cut to the back of his thigh, sending Levi down to one knee with a muffled grunt. The resulting pain tells him that it will bruise within the day.

The squire’s next cut he catches with his sword, and he lurches forward to drive Eren back across the now-clear yard, its preceding patrons having moved aside to follow this contest with eager eyes. Their cheers and calls fill the grounds as Levi and his charge dance their blunted steel dance.

Eren struggles against the veritable torrent of blows yet does not lose his feet, pushing back and attempting another counter which Levi once again dodges. His sword slams across the younger man’s back, making him yelp as he finds himself almost sprawling across the yard’s paving stones. Eren catches himself in time and whirls around, sword flashing with blinding speed.

Pain lances up Levi’s arm as the blunted edge of Eren’s blade smacks across his forearm just above his wrist. His hand jerks open in reflex, and his sword slips through his fingers. Whatever triumph the boy may have felt is quickly expunged, however, when Levi catches the blade with his left hand faster than any man there present would have believed, and presses forward with renewed ferocity, swinging blow after blow at his squire.

“Don’t grow roots, keep moving!” he barks when the boy shows all signs of slowing down, caught unawares by his opponent’s very much abrupt change of hands. Eren fights to reorient himself with his now lefthanded foe, foregoing much of his movements in the process. That will not do. “Remember what I told you, boy! To be still is to die.”

And there it is, that rash temerity that shines in the boy’s eyes, his greatest vice and virtue. He bulls towards Levi with reckless abandon, his earlier adept dexterity vanished like so much chaff.

It is the easiest thing in the world for Levi to deflect his blow and ram a forearm hard into his chest. A blink of an eye later and the squire is on the ground with his master’s foot on his chest and his swordpoint at his throat.

Cheers erupt around them, and Levi looks up, only to see the Lord Commander himself standing framed against the northern entry to the Bulwark, the ancestral home of the main branch of the Ackermans. The shadows have lengthened some. Is it the hour of the lynx already? It will seem that duty is calling at last.

Levi hauls his squire to his feet. “To be still is to die, never forget that, boy. But when matters call for it… when much and more depend upon you staying still…” His eyes flicker toward Erwin, who is crossing the yard toward them, trailed closely by Mike. “Learn to know when to stop moving.”

Eren follows the line of his gaze and lowers his eyes. Levi wonders if the guilt will ever truly leave him. “Yes, Sir, I will remember. And learn.”

“Levi.”

Eren straightens to attention as Erwin stops before them, not quite meeting the Lord Commander’s eyes. Guilt will make a companion of him for a long while yet. No amount of physical punishment can induce such tempering in the boy, Levi can see now. He is glad for it.

“That was well-fought, young master,” the Lord Commander directs at Eren, who blinks, diffident yet pleased with himself all the same. “You’ll make a fine knight yet. I will expect nothing less from someone who has had the privilege to be under the tutelage of the greatest living knight of the realm himself.” Levi snorts at that, drawing Erwin’s attention. He merely smiles in amusement at this breach of etiquette. “I am come to inform you of the changing of the guard, Sir. Your brothers wait for you to relieve them.”

“I mustn’t keep them waiting, then.” Levi gives his squire a nod and a parting, “Well-fought,” before walking off toward the gate west of the sparring grounds where the weapons room is located. Erwin and Mike follow, leaving Eren at the mercy of his fellow squires and men-at-arms alike, who instantly flock to him, hooting their admiration and praise for his preceding performance.

The boy acquitted himself well, to be sure, that damnable brashness aside. A bit more polishing and might be he’ll find himself an anointed knight in truth soon. Eren has always shown great promise in the field, in any case, taking to sword and shield and lance as easily as a falcon takes to flight. 

Speak of the lance, though… The boy really ought to have won that final tilt between him and Jean Kirschtein, the day of the Warrior’s Tourney. Tourneys are useless pageantry, yes, but even Levi acknowledges the skill it takes to be a force in the lists. Anyone with half the wits the gods gave a turnip could see that Jaeger was the cleaner, better jouster by far. Amazing what political squabbles could do to even the most trifling of matters. And it is from such that larger, darker matters are seeded… Levi has to thank whatever gods there are out there, if any, for sparing him the life of statecraft. He is not meant for such battles.

“That truly was an excellent bout, Levi. Had I still had my arm, you can be sure I would have been one of those applauding,” Erwin states lightly as they descend the torchlit steps to the armory.

That gives Levi pause. “Humor, Erwin?”

The other man chuckles as they enter the weapons room. “Only in the gallows.”

At least he’s finding some humor in his condition. It was an immense relief to see the Lord Commander recovered from his ordeal. It may have cost him an arm yet better an arm than his life. He will do no one good in the Fields.

A couple of men-at-arms are loitering about chatting by the racks of practice weapons. They stand to attention at the sight of the Guardsmen, salute awkwardly, and leave at once.

“The Sun Festival is tomorrow,” Erwin begins as his subordinates bustle about returning their sparring gear to their proper places. “I want a short convene at evenfall, before dinner, to confirm our posts for the event.” A murmur of assent answers him, and soon enough they are reemerging from the armory to head to the allotted Guardsmen’s wing so that the two incoming guards can refresh themselves and don their armor before seeing to their duty.

It has been a while since the City of Middelfoort has hosted Lusin’s Day for the progress, and even longer since Levi had been fit to attend. The Day of Sun and Youth does not belong to seasoned men like him. That the festival of youths will be held on the grounds of his youth does bring back a lot of things, things both pleasant and otherwise.

The late Lady Kuchel Ackerman had begotten him from some passing bard, a wily, silver-tongued whoreson who somehow managed to charm his way between her sheets. Suffice it to say that her brother was not best pleased when he learned of their little frolics. The singer left Karanes’ capital with shortened fingers and short his silver tongue, but not before leaving his highborn lover with his get and the master of Steel Hall with a deep-seated loathing of the musical breed. 

Only the gods alone knew why Kuchel was adamant about keeping her bastard. Kenny had deferred, for love of her.

Levi’s first few years of life in the Steel Hall, home of the lesser Ackermans of the lesser branch, were some of his happiest until the gods saw fit to rid him of his greatest font of comfort. Passing to the care of Kenny Ackerman, the ill-famed Ripper himself, from his mother’s gentle custody was a jarring thing. More jarring still was the revelation of his bastardy and what that truly meant. Levi’s world had crumbled around him then at the tender age of six.

Yet it was not all bad, to look back on it now. Kenny could have given his bastard nephew to the Creed, or worse, but he chose to raise his sister’s son despite all. And it was he who gave Levi the liberty to use the Ackerman name which, by all lights, he has no right to…

His uncle’s spectacular display at the tourney flashes through his mind, and Levi sighs inwardly. Kenny Ackerman is… a complicated man, to put it lightly. Levi wonders if he will ever reconcile his many and varied feelings about his notorious kinsman, he who is father and foe both.

Pain flares through his leg at his next step, and he grimaces; all his aches and pains are starting to make themselves known. His thigh is sore and the throbbing discomfort in his right forearm is spreading to the rest of the limb. A night of ice and poppy it is, then. Pity tea makes the poppy useless. And if trouble looms large on the morrow… well, he’d fought through worse pain.

“Time flies far too fast these days. The Sun Festival is already upon us, and before we know it, we’ll be finally seeing the back of our Northern Matter,” Mike says conversationally, as he and Levi stride through the Bulwark’s cool stone halls to the designated royal wing sometime later, both refreshed and armored.

“This Northern Matter, at any rate. Give them a year or two to raise another one.”

Mike snorts at that. “Hmm, true enough.” A portrait hanging by the staircase they are climbing catches his eye. “Pity I didn’t win the Warrior’s Day tilt. I would’ve crowned our Hange Queen of Love and Beauty, if only to add to the day’s spectacles. Just think, she could’ve been the first-ever Prior to win the crown.”

Levi can feel the toll climbing these stairs is taking on his battered leg. The cool ointment he had smeared on it takes the worst of the pain off, thankfully. Oil of laurel and lovers’ myrtle, that brilliant Mi Anese innovation, always works best as a quick remedy for aches and pains when taking the poppy is out of the question. That and the strip of willow bark he had chewed on before heading out to his duty. He is not in danger of falling asleep on his feet with those, at least.

“Kirschtein was more determined to crown his own queen. Boy saw his chance and took it.” Something in Levi marvels at how much power infatuation can lend to one’s faculties if need be. He meets his cousin’s painted gray stare. Mikasa - the only living child and heir of his cousin, Lukas Ackerman, Lord of Karanes - gazes down upon the landing in a simple gown of blue and gray, the colors of their House. There she sits, as solemn and somber as she is in life, the little Shieldmaiden of Karanes. A difficult maid to woo. The young stallion had stones to declare his suit so publicly. Levi wishes him well.

“Amazing what being cunt-struck can make you do. An unusual secret to his prowess in the field, but if it works, who am I to question it?” Mike remarks, as they emerge into the hall before the Ackermans’ chambers, which have been requisitioned for the use of the Royal House. “No tourneys tomorrow and so no chances at redemption… another pity.”

They walk over the blue-carpeted floor toward the privy chambers, passing through the arched entrance flanked by two stone women cradling candles. “A true war may come upon us soon enough, if you want to play at war so badly,” Levi rejoins under his breath. Standing sentry in front of the wooden door ahead of them are Sir Gunther Shultz and Sir Miron Serech. The four brothers hail and salute each other before parting ways, two to their own devices and two to their duty.

“So you think our Northern Matter isn’t as routine as all that,” Mike voices out in a mild tone as he takes up his place right of the king’s door.

Levi considers him a moment, before looking away. “It’s bigger than most of what we’ve had to deal with over the years but we’ve seen the like. Not many, true, but it’s not unusual in that sense. It’s no worse than battling a couple of truculent lords’ armies.”

Mike hums in what sounds like agreement and their customary dutiful silence falls upon them.

“I was a tad of a lad the last time true war fell upon us.”

Levi turns his head to look at his companion once more. He is mere feet from him yet Mike is far away all the same, at another place and another time. The other man continues almost distractedly, “That was a bloody bit of business. On the one hand, we have our dear neighbor from Seviros, Cydamae, threatening conquest. On the other, our late Lord Vukasin decided to take advantage of the resulting chaos and settle his personal disputes with our late Lord Ackerman and before you know it, you’re a well-seasoned soldier by the time you turn thirteen.” Mike’s chuckle comes out dry and short of humor. “No one ever mentions how harrowing battle is for lads like me, those of us who could barely lift our shields and tell one end of a spear from another. Our lads are men grown, or near enough as makes no matter, yet I was even younger when I had my first taste of true war. But perhaps they’re lucky in that. Perhaps they’ll hold better than I did then, when true war comes upon them at last.”

Not even he can claim as much, Levi knows. The year his mother passed saw the end of the War Without and the War Within. He had been a tot barely weaned when the War Without began and had no proper recollection of what had transpired.

“Hopefully, that won’t be for some time. If they’re extremely lucky, our good King Rod is another Arthur the Peacemaker and they’ll never have to raise their children through red years.” Mike’s smile tells Levi what he thinks about that.

It strikes Levi then that he is not much better off than their charges. What does he know of war but of the kind writ in parchment and the occasional handful of uprisings every few years from malcontents? The realm sees fit to call him the greatest living knight of Lovaya for nothing but his alleged talent with the blade never before seen in any knight yet living. He is never one for such gormless flattery but he lets it stand. Reputation is a power in its own right and if it helps keep everyone in line, so much the better.

He wonders how long that much-vaunted reputation of his can stand up to true war.

The game is played with lines of chalk, a red cloth, and loads of running. And much laughter.

Sweat trickles down Mikasa’s face, making her eyes sting. She swipes it off, only to be impeded by yet another drop. The late afternoon sun is vanishing behind Middelfoort’s many buildings and so does not beat down upon them as harshly, yet summer’s heat remains. Unbearably so. The knee-length gray linen skirt she is wearing helps to alleviate the swelter, but only just. Dust and gravel crunch beneath the soles of her leathern slippers as she adjusts her stance.

On the chalked line ahead of her Eren paces, a rivercat on the prowl as you drift before him, staying well away of his, Dora’s, and the Center’s reach. You idly fiddle with the coveted red cloth in your hands, eyes never straying from Eren’s, who is similarly engaged. Every few heartbeats you will jerk to the side as if to run forward, prompting Eren to do the same, like a puppet dancing on your strings. On the square behind you, Jean Kirschtein is hopping about, trying to slip past little Dora’s guard and into your square. Little she may be yet the hunter’s daughter is fast and light on her feet, more than a match for the much taller squire.

The Plaza of the Sun is well-peopled and well-festooned with red streamers today. A small crowd has gathered to watch them at their play, cheering one side or the other and waving their little red flags as they munch on their festive nibbles; further back stand the highborn youths’ house guards, keeping a close eye on their noble charges. The air is saturated with the scents of bread and sweets and meat, meat most of all, from the many stalls around the grounds. Middelfoort’s temple of the Sun looms above them all, red banners fluttering from its sandstone turrets and great dome, its far-famed stained glass windows of suns and eagles and torches shining with what light they can still catch from the sun. In front of the temple doors, Beacon Samson and his retinue stand curating and watching the proceedings with an attentive eye.

Catch the Flag is tradition for the Sun Festival, a game derived from the Old Lovayan disport Block and Catch, which is enacted much the same barring the actual flag. It is played on a rectangle drawn on the ground, subdivided into equal parts by a central lengthwise line and several crosswise lines, the number of which depends upon how many players there are in a team. Today there are six to a team to make a sum of twelve in all, a holy number for a holy day.

The game is simple enough. The red cloth of the Couriers needs only to be ferried across the rectangle back and forth without it getting nicked by the Catchers. As it is, the Catchers are only allowed to move along their respective crosswise lines. The Center, as the name suggests, is a special Catcher, the only one allowed to move up and down the central lengthwise line and attempt a steal.

Pepin, a farmer’s boy and their current Center, hovers between your and Jean’s squares, looking to catch the flag from you yet keeping an eye out for another chance to throw another Courier out of the game and further his team’s chances at winning. The Day of Sun and Youth has always blurred the lines between the highborn and lowborn young. They are all meant to be beloved of the Sun himself, and he does not discriminate against those under his protection. Or so his priests say.

Jean slips through Dora’s guard at last, to his team’s delight, four of whom have already been thrown out and are cheering the remaining Couriers on with great gusto, adding to the crowd’s clamor around them. Things speed into motion the moment he sets foot on the next square. You dart to the side and forward at once and are promptly caught by your betrothed, thereby throwing yourself out of the game. But not in vain. Jean has snatched the flag from your outstretched hand (Eren somehow neglects to reach for it) and leaps into the next square, shouting, “I swear, your sacrifice will be well worth it!”

You burst into laughter, turning your face into the crook of Eren’s neck, who does not seem inclined to free you any time soon. Mikasa’s eyes sting once more, and she swipes at them impatiently, cursing the thrice-damned heat.

“Mikasa! The flag!”

She wrenches her eyes away from you and Eren and your utter closeness just in time to see Jean make a frantic dash for her undefended right. She slides towards him quickly, making him recoil, and that is enough.

A great cheer erupts from the Catchers and crowd alike as she holds the flag aloft. Her team converges on her, all grins and hurrahs. The Couriers bear down on Jean, varying degrees of fatigue and disappointment on their faces; Mikasa can hear Connie shouting abuse at the taller boy, who responds in kind, face as scarlet as the fabric in her hands. But Eren hails and smiles at her then, and all else ceases to matter. Even haggard and soaked in sweat, he is still the most beautiful boy she has ever seen. The stones in her chest float away like dandelion puffs…

…only to come crashing back down in a rockfall after the giving of the laurels. But perhaps getting crushed by a true rockfall will hurt less than the sight of her beloved so happy in the presence of another. It hurts so much yet she cannot look away as Eren sweeps the crown of laurels from his head to crown his smiling betrothed and presses a single marigold into your hands, a blossom of which he had taken from little Meadow’s champion’s posy with promises to recompense her with a nibble of her choice.

Mikasa’s grip tightens around her own posy. The air is truly unbearably hot today. More salt stings her eyes, and at last, she can look away, if only to wipe at her hot, sticky, dusty face.

“Oi, Mikasa!” Connie’s wide grin falters a little as their eyes meet. “A-are you feeling all right? Were you hurt?”

“Oh, I’m fine. It’s just too hot.” You and Eren have moved off to one of the surrounding stands, hands clasped tight together, Mikasa sees with a painful lurch of her stomach. Meadow the miller’s girl tags along, looking to claim her recompense, which she receives moments later in the form of a capon-and-cheese-stuffed bun baked in the shape of the sun. She gushes out her thanks as Eren grins down at her and ruffles her hair affectionately, knocking her laurel crown askew. 

Fondness blooms warm inside Mikasa’s being to mingle with her hurt and heartache. She is glad to see he is capable of such tenderness after all. It is a good look on him. 

But then everything is a good look on him.

“Well, if that’s all… we’re going around town, make the most of the remaining hour before sundown to celebrate with these ‘uns,” Connie nods toward their lowborn companions, Catcher and Courier both. “Want to come with?” He is extremely partial to the commons, having been one himself not too long ago. 

The Springers derive from a family of masquers and troupers who plied their craft around the realm, bringing entertainment and diversion to any who would have them. Sir Roderick Springer had saved Lukas Ackerman from a runaway horse cart during a performance in Middelfoort. The grateful lord took him into his service, had him knighted, and took his children to ward. Now his firstborn is squire to a Royal Guardsman with a promise of knighthood once he earns his spurs. Connie will rise higher than his sire and bring House Springer to better prominence. At least, that is the hope.

“I think I’ll just head back-”

“Maybe a jaunt around the city will-”

Jean Kirschtein’s eyes widen as Mikasa meets his gaze; he flushes and looks away. His boyhood friend Marco Bodt glances at him from the corner of his newly scarred eye before saying, “If you’re feeling too tired, we can understand, but this is our last year to enjoy this day as youths. We’ll be on the outside looking in come next year-”

“We’ll be elders at seventeen!” Connie pipes in.

Marco laughs. “Exactly. Why not make the most of it? Perhaps it can take your mind off whatever it needs taking off.”

He does make such compelling arguments… Mikasa glances at Jean once more. The wreath of laurels around her head seems to press upon her suddenly. Another wreath comes to mind then, colorful, floral, and heavy with intent.

“All right, I’ll come with.”

It is a good decision, in the end. It is always nice to spend time with Connie like this. She has come to regard him as the brother she has been wanting for ever since the Rider spirited her older brother Akira away years and years ago. In point of fact, though, Connie has ever been a brother, long before Akira’s death. It was to him that she turned to when the fever of combat alit in her soul, her first and constant sparring partner, one of the true constants in her life.

Little by little, the stones in her chest crumble away as they tour her city under the last light, poking around at the myriad stalls and enjoying the various entertainments to be had. Fire jugglers and fire eaters and fire shows are around every corner, to honor the god of sun and flame. 

Of them all, Connie is the most enthusiastic reveler, drawn as he is to entertainment and entertainers as a moth is drawn to a flame. Like calls to like, after all, and the blood of diversions and delights still runs strong in him. Before sundown, they had seen at least three different productions of the same tale, that of the courtship and marriage of the Sun and the Moon, much to Jean’s exasperation.

“Oatcakes!” Connie gasps, drawing their companions’ attention to a stall selling the aforementioned sweet. There is a stampede as the group rushes the stall, to the stallkeep’s alarm. Mikasa hangs back, amused and not feeling particularly peckish. Best to save her appetite for dinner and a plateful of her favorite sweet, mixed berry tart.

“-like a pack of unruly monkeys,” she hears somewhere to her left, and she looks round to see Jean Kirschtein standing beside her scratching at his head exasperatedly. She is not the only one not peckish, it will seem. It takes several moments more for Jean to realize who he is standing alone next to. Awkward spluttering gives way to awkward silence as he turns his face away, glowing like some beacon in the gathering dark. 

The sounds of their group’s squabbles over the oatcakes fill the silence, giving Mikasa the opportunity to examine the horselord’s son under the dying light. He has always been a tall one yet he had grown even taller over the months, climbing closer to six feet, if he isn’t already. Short shaggy brown hair caps off a long face - a ‘horseface’, says Eren mean-spiritedly, his friends affectionately, though Mikasa does not think him very horsey, truth be told.

A light draft whispers across the streets and gently tugs at the leaves of her crown, determined to remind her of Sir Tardon’s Day and the welter of sensations it brought about. She can still recall the heat of that day, the deafening roar of the crowd, and her bewilderment as Jean Kirschtein rode up to the nobles’ box and offered her the particolored wreath of sword lilies, the crown of the Queen of Love and Beauty.

Mikasa is as bewildered by the act now as she was then. She cannot think why he would give her such attention; she has never given him cause to, never so much as spoken to him outside of the sparring grounds, never acknowledged him overmuch, if at all, at court however comfortable she is crossing blades with him… The last Winter Fete was the only time in recent memory when she gave him her attention outside of sparring, and that was only because he asked it of her. He had gotten no sheep’s eyes from her, and will never.

“Why did you crown me?”

She had not meant to ask yet it spills out all the same. Jean looks at her, wide-eyed. Mikasa can see herself reflected in those light brown eyes, and suddenly, her curiosity flares all the more profoundly. Something deep within her already knows why. Yet she will have it from him. She is not unfamiliar with the matters of the heart, not her. She wonders if this is what she looks like to Eren - wide-eyed, enthralled, vacuous - and withers a little inside.

Jean’s gaze drops down to the bunch of marigolds still clutched in her hands, the blooms already showing signs of wear yet still vibrant for all that. He is solemn all of a sudden, and Mikasa’s breath catches in her throat. For at that moment, he reminds her immediately, irresistibly of Eren, and when he looks back up into her eyes, she almost takes a step back. 

More than once, she has heard the other squires jest that for all the bile they sling at each other, Jean Kirschtein and Eren Jaeger are two sides to a coin, with the same intensity and fire in their eyes. She did not realize how true that was until now. 

A torch flares to life nearby, spilling light upon them, and he is brown and not green, and in a flash Jean is Jean again. Mikasa blinks and glances away, feeling as though she has woken from a dream.

“How could I not crown the most beautiful maid the Queen of Love and Beauty?”

He is reaching toward her, making her pull back on reflex, though she cannot say why. That gives him pause. 

“If I may, my lady?” he asks then, gesturing at her marigolds. It is her turn to check and wonder what he is about. In the end, she wordlessly acquiesces, intrigued despite herself. Her body relaxes, allowing him to reach out once more and pluck one bloom from her posy. “For you are the most beautiful of all, the Shieldmaiden of Karanes, my Queen of Love and Beauty.” The flower makes its way to her crown, a brilliant gold jewel to ornament the simple circlet.

“Oi, Jean, Mikasa, what do you say to one last fire show before we head back?” Connie calls over, utterly oblivious to what has taken place. Beside him stands Marco, and there is something emphatic about the way he stares over at them. His eyes flicker up to the marigold in Mikasa’s crown, and he smiles.

Jean sighs with annoyance but agrees anyway. It is as if his gift and his graces have never been. The conflict and confusion stay with her, though.

“It’s times like these that make me miss the festival at home,” Jean mutters once they set off in search of a pyromancer.

“Is it so very different from ours?” Mikasa is obliged to say. Maybe speaking to him about mindless things will help. Despite everything, she still finds him… easy, Jean. It is what makes him one of the only people in the realm she can be comfortable sharing her passion for the blade with, in deed if not in words. He is too easy, perhaps. The thought is oddly worrying.

Jean smiles, thoughtful and reminiscing. “Not truly, no. It’s the little things at home.” He laughs softly. “Mother would have the cooks make my favorite dish special for Lusin’s Day. Nothing is better than fried beaten eggs, but Sun Day eggs are something else entirely. Neep cakes topped with fried beaten eggs, which are in turn topped by your run-of-the-mill fried egg… but it’s not just a fried egg, it’s a fried egg shaped like the sun… haven’t had it in a couple of years now, not when the progress takes us elsewhere for the festival.”

“It sounds delicious.”

“It is!” Jean’s eyes sparkle, and in a flash, he is waxing eloquent about the egg dish and extolling its many virtues. Mikasa watches him speak. The last of the stones inside her chest have crumbled away, yet they might as well have remained. It isn’t as if the conflict budding within her is any better.

The life and vibrancy in Jean’s conduct now are catching, however. She is smiling at his tales of home before she knows it. Mikasa reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear and finds herself brushing the blossom fixed to her crown. 

Perhaps this wreath will meet a better fate than its slowly browning predecessor in her rooms. Whatever sentiment influenced the giving of this floral gift, she cannot deny it was given in kindness. It will be remiss of her to dispose of it just like that.

“Make me something.”

“I don’t know how to make something, I have never seen this something that you speak of, and so I have no idea how to go about making something.”

“...you’re a mouthy one, aren’t you? It’s a wonder Sister can put up with you. And to think she’ll be knitting her very soul with the likes of yours… Makes me want to weep for her.”

Eren growls in annoyance. “Oi, watch it, brat, or you’ll find yourself waking up with a newt under your pillow.”

Lydia gasps in feigned horror. “Oh, no, please, good sir, spare me that horrendous fate! I’ll keep mum and say no more.”

Your smile widens at the banter you are privy to as you round one of the white marble pilasters of the Gods’ Ward, stronghold of the Halkins who rule the northern State of Kostrokan. There they stand, your sister and your betrothed, in the Ward’s gardens. Adjoining them upon her marble plinth stands Queen Yanina Halkina the Fair; a few feet across from her stands her son and heir, Yulian the Younger, one of the most beloved Halkin kings in history.

The sound of your footsteps draws the gardens’ two living occupants’ attention, and Lydia lets out a pleased exclamation of “Sister!” before scampering toward you. Eren lingers beneath King Yulian’s feet, arms crossed over his chest and a small smile gracing his handsome features as he looks on at the scene before him.

“She’s here at last, the one you were actually waiting for,” Lydia calls back to Eren as she grasps your shoulders. “You should’ve seen the look on his face when I came trotting up and he saw I wasn’t you,” this Lydia directs at you, and you raise your eyebrows in amusement at your sister’s conspiratorial tone. “He was all-” Lydia pouts out her bottom lip as far as it will go, her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. 

You burst into loud laughter, which you hastily mask by slapping your hands over your mouth, preventing your mirth from echoing across the silent grounds. The mental image of that very expression on your betrothed’s face is too comical to resist.

“I did not look like that,” Eren says hotly, stomping over to you with irritable strides. Lydia squeaks and attempts to hide behind you, who are only just that bit taller than her and therefore ill-placed to provide much protection from the wrath of her future brother by marriage.

“I-I just recalled! It’s time for my afternoon lessons with the governess!” Lydia squeezes your shoulders and then flees, giggling madly as she dashes through the Ward’s corridors.

“You’re thirteen, you don’t have a governess, not anymore!” Eren yells after her, but she only laughs and bawls, “Make me a newt!” before disappearing further within the castle’s halls.

“Brat- I mean,” Eren fumbles, catching the look you gave him, “such a sweet, lovely girl who I can be proud to call my sister by marriage!”

You giggle and take his hand in yours, tugging him along across the flourishing grounds to the path leading to the Godsway. “Ah, you’re not far off, she’s all of those things and more. She can be a brat but that’s what makes Lydia, Lydia, and I love her for it. She’ll grow on you, you’ll see.” 

It is nice to see him bonding (after a fashion) with his marriage kin. A brat he may have called your sister, but you had seen the corners of his lips twitching when they both shouted at each other, as though he was biting back laughter himself. You try to picture yourself bonding with Zeke and feel… strange. He is a pleasant enough man and you had had your share of private pleasantries during your time with the Jaegers in Highridge, but you cannot see yourself ever truly warming to him. Perhaps it is because he is a good deal older.

Eren sighs with some exasperation but smiles. “I’ll take your word for it.” A worried look flashes across his face suddenly. “Darya doesn’t take after her, does she? I can only take so many gadflies buzzing around me.”

“No, they couldn’t be any more different if they tried.” You pass under a white arch preceding the entrance to the Godsway. “Darya has… an obsessive personality.”

“Obsessive?”

You lapse into silence for a moment, considering how best to describe the Rhyzkovs’ youngest girl. “Obsessive in a way that she takes to her interests. She will focus on one subject to the exclusion of all else. She loves to collect things. Smooth river stones, gemstones when she took an interest in the stars, tiny animal bones now that she’s interested in the macabre…”

“Animal bones.”

You laugh at the unsettled look on Eren’s face and steer him ever onward. “She’s a sweet girl and not such a brat, it’ll hearten you to know.”

“That’s… good. I can’t say I know many ten-year-olds that dabble in the macabre, though.”

“She takes after Tibor in that sense. He’ll make a great Prior, I can feel it.”

“I can only imagine what little Oliver will be like once he’s older.”

“He loves sweets and toys, as most boys of five do. You Jaegers will have the making of him come next year. We’ll see what he grows into under your household’s fine tutelage.” The wardship of little Oliver Rhyzkov is part of your marriage contract. He is to be sent to Highridge in his sixth year to serve as Lord Grisha’s ward, much like Eren himself had been fostered at Seamont with the Arlerts.

“Under our most excellent care, little Olya will grow into a fine young man worthy of the proud Rhyzkov name, you don’t need to worry about a thing,” Eren claims loftily, making you smile. You are all smiles with him nowadays, which is just as well.

Summers in the North are extremely pleasant. Indeed, it is the only time the weather is like to be tolerable in these parts - northern winters are not something to sneeze at. It is spring all over again; the air is cool and fresh, the gardens are green and flowering, and it is good to finally be free of the constant feeling of sweat beading upon your skin. Southron you may be and used to the heat, but some days are worse than others. Even beings of heat tire of it every once in a great while.

The entrance to the Godsway looms in front of you at last, a tall archway formed from the trunks and boughs of trees. Mages past had coaxed the branches to grow in elegant swirling patterns to form the entrance, lending it a fantastic sort of beauty. It is this that makes the gateway near as famed as the sacred path it heralds. At the crest of the arch’s peak, the branches grow in the shape of the Halkin sigil: a godstone ringed by leafy vines. Four hundred years to the decline of magic in this world and yet the gateway remains as it is, even without its mystic caretakers; nature took up that mantle long ago.

Eren had fallen solemn the moment you passed beneath the towering trees. The path - more a dirt trail than anything else - begins not too far from the entrance, and stretches and weaves through the pines, vanishing into the distance. 

You feel gooseprickles rise up your skin as you and Eren pass the first few godstones. Time stands still beneath the pines, the very same ones that had been here over a thousand years ago, perhaps even longer. It is chillier within the wood, and the smell of pine needles is overwhelming in the most pleasant way. The promised whispers of the Whispering Pines reverberate around you as you walk along, a gentle susurration that tickles the ear. You had been little more than a child the first time you had come to this place. You recall it being bigger somehow, and darker, yet it is not the wood that has changed. Only you. There is something melancholic about the thought, and poignant.

Godstones, so many godstones, line the path. Great ones, little ones, ones of a height with you, ones no taller than your shins, there they all stand. No one stone has the same figure carved upon its surface, yet they all bear similar visages of serene and kindly contentment upon their godly faces. Scores of stone eyes follow your trail as you proceed along silently. Such a place does not invite much occasion for talk.

“Oh!”

A little boy has dashed across your path, bringing you up short.

“What’s wrong?” Eren asks, confused, but his voice seems to fade away as you notice the child’s garb.

Why would a child of the North wear southron clothes?

Your eyes follow the boy as he slips through the godstones and leaves the trail. A man is standing with his back to the path some ways away, you see with a jolt of surprise. You have not seen him there at first; in fact, you are sure no one had been standing there moments ago…

It is to him the boy is running to. The man is southron-garbed as well, tall, his long dark hair pulled back and knotted loosely behind his head. A man grown to look at him yet not so old, a young man still in his prime, not much older than you yourself are. The father, you think, and it is not just the dark hair of father and son that lends credence to the notion. Somehow, something deep within you knows.

Suddenly, you want him to turn around. You must see his face, you must…

You take a step toward the edge of the path, placing a hand upon a godstone that comes up to your shoulders.

Turn around, turn around…

And he does, to sweep his little boy off his feet and spin him around, laughing and pressing a gentle kiss upon the child’s chubby cheek. Joy and disappointment war within you at the sight, for the pair’s features are blurred and indistinct, as though you are seeing them through a pane of glass fogged up by the cold. The boy wraps his arms around his father’s neck, who holds him close and proceeds to walk away through the trees. The surrounding pines’ trunks hide them from sight, and they are gone.

You start as a hand presses down on your shoulder; you turn, heart pounding, to see your betrothed staring at you with worry on his face. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His eyes flash around the forest, his brow furrowed. “I don’t see any shades around, though…”

The man and his boy are not shades, you are sure of it. What they are you know not. The thought of them raises a lump in your throat for some incomprehensible reason. To your horror, you feel your eyes sting.

“Hey, are you all right?” Eren asks again, the look of worry on his face increasing as he reaches up to cup your cheeks gently in his hands. “Are you feeling unwell? Do you want to go back? Maybe we should-”

“Eren.” Your voice comes out hoarse. You clear your throat, smiling tremulously, and try once more. “I’m fine. Just a brief spell, is all.” His hands are warm, so warm. You reach up to place your hands on top of his.

His beautiful green eyes search your face for several heartbeats and then he smiles, brushing his thumbs lightly upon the apples of your cheeks before pulling away. “If my lady is sure, then we go onward.” To your surprise, he wraps an arm around your waist and coaxes you forward, away from the gods' ghosts. 

You take one last glance back at the woods. You have heard tales of such visions manifesting in sanctums; you have never thought to receive one yourself. The gods walk among us today. You wonder what it is they mean by it and why the spectral pair affects you so.

Eren squeezes your waist lightly, drawing your attention back to him. It is not just his hands that are warm. The smile he shines at you is the warmest you have yet seen from him. The southron man flits through your mind once more, and you return his smile, nestling closer to him as you continue down the godsway. 

You are glad he does not press the issue. In any other circumstance, you would have told him all, yet the vision is too… personal. Perhaps someday he will have it from you. But not today.

The sound of splashing water and murmured prayer reaches your ears. Ahead, at the side of the path, grows a stand of several pines, all of them locked so closely together that their trunks seem as one, the trunk of one gigantic tree. Upon the trees’ many roots sit two men, local commons, with their heads bowed down in supplication, their prayers coming in quick streams of Rakiva in the regional dialect. A third man dressed in merchant’s finery paces by the fountain splashing away before the great pine stand, his prayers coming silent. He inclines his head at you and Eren as you pass, and continues his pacing.

“I like this place. It’s… peace.”

Surprise and delight course through you as you hear Rakiva fall from Eren’s lips. It is perfectly uttered if not perfectly worded. He looks embarrassed by his attempt yet resolute, and you feel yourself melting a little inside. He can be so utterly endearing.

“It is very peaceful, isn’t it?”

Eren grimaces but rallies at once. “Peaceful, yes. Just so.” He raises his head to the leafy canopy above, and his eyes reflect the scenery. “I like sanctums. It’s nice not to be… neighbored by people… angry at my key.”

“‘Surrounded’ would be a better term but that’s close enough, they are related words. And ‘glaring at my key’ would serve better.” You pat him lightly on the back as he pouts a little then sighs in resignation.

“I really do have loads to learn…”

“You’ll have a whole season to. You’ll be surrounded by local speakers, it’ll rub off on you, you’ll see.”

Being reminded of his forthcoming stay with the Rhyzkovs seems to please him a great deal. He hums cheerfully as you stroll along but frowns, so suddenly that it startles you.

“It seems like I spoke too soon regarding my key and the glaring.”

One of the men sitting on the pine roots is not bothering to mask the hostility blazing from his face as he eyes the two of you suspiciously. You are glad to be well shot of him as you round a bend and the trees hide him from sight.

Of course he will be hostile, you realize, feeling that now-familiar dread creeping up to seize you once more, the one you have been trying to tamp down the very moment the court stepped foot in the North. Every day brings you closer to ending the Northern Matter once and for all; but no matter how much the king’s verdict benefits the northmen, years of resentment still burn fresh in northern hearts and cannot be expected to just vanish in one night. As far as they are concerned, that recompense has been four years owed. It is disconcerting to see their displeasure firsthand.

You huddle closer to Eren and he tightens his grip around you, now a soldier, alert and protective as he looks back at the path warily. “I don’t think he’ll do anything,” you say, noting his stance. “This is a sacred place and he seemed a godly man. He would not dare cause trouble before the gods.”

“Hmm.” Eren turns his attention back to the road ahead, his body still tense and vigilant.

“Those of the Old Blood in the North have always been hostile towards outsiders, and that key just told him who you are: a southerner and outsider. And I should think some of them would be more hostile now, considering the… circumstances. There was one whose toes had been ground by Tybur, I’d wager. It’s hard to let go of old hurts, or so they say.”

“Hard lands breed a hard folk,” Eren recites, a common phrase in the southron reaches of the realm oft ascribed to the northmen, they of the cold reaches and the blizzards and the icy northern wastes. No adage can be any truer.

A side path opens up to you further on, this one devoid of divine personages. You consider it a moment then move away from Eren so you can take his hand and lead him down the new trail. The godsway stretches on for several miles more but for now, the gods can keep.

“This hard folk will be compensated at last, though,” you remark conversationally as you lead him along through a white arbor tunnel draped with vines. And please gods, let that be enough. “It’s not far off now… The next few days will have us see the back of everything. And Lord Tybur has been given-”

“-a sop in Ishvelune.”

You stop dead in your tracks and turn to look back at your betrothed. He returns your stare with a bewildered one of his own. “What?” he queries, rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand.

“You think Ishvelune is a sop for Tybur?”

His disconcerted expression changes into one of uncertainty. “It can’t be anything else. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been but I don’t think much has changed… That is, our lands there have never been easy to hold and it’s getting harder each year from what I’ve been hearing from our local troops. Look how much the Ishvel have taken back. It’s only a matter of time ‘til we lose Ishvelune entirely. Thank the gods I’m not part of the garrison there. Even Father seems glad to be rid of the Ishvelune governance.”

The island of Ishvelune northwest of Lovaya has long been a matter of much contention. It was the Reisses’ first stronghold and site of their first conquest before they struck out further east to Lovaya. But the last century had seen the Lovayan hold weaken on the isle. The death of the Titans emboldened the Ishvel, and a set of several bloody wars followed in which much of the Lovayan holds had been lost. Only a third of the isle belongs to you now: the southeastern quadrants of Ragako, Ehrmich, Orvud, and Dauper.

By tradition, the Magister has always held the governance of the isle, backed by the master of the militia, the Praetor. You have spent years listening to your father carp about Ishvelune and the increasing costs of holding what little land remains you. He had not been best pleased to learn that he will be working under the upstart lordling, as he refers to your Consul.

“Do you think I’m wrong?”

You look at Eren thoughtfully for several heartbeats more, before resuming your trek, gently urging him along. “No, I agree with you, actually. Ishvelune is losing much of its value to us - we’re losing more than we’re gaining from it. The king seems to think it serves his cousin. He snubs your father by depriving him of a major office and gives his favorite considerable holdings and an important post. Please gods, let that be enough for our good Consul… Perhaps his appetite for land will work for the good of the realm and he’ll win back the whole island for us.”

Eren’s observation should not have surprised you as much as it had yet it did. He does not oft venture his opinions on matters of statecraft but when he does… He truly has a keen eye for things. You wonder if you can further coax out this hidden statesman in him. You can make great use of him someday.

Your budding statesman snorts at your last sentence derisively as you emerge from the tunnel into another part of the wood. “I wish him much luck. I’d like to see him do better than Father in that regard.” Lord Grisha’s tenure as Governor of Ishvelune has been largely stable; it is due to him that your remaining territories still hold. It will be interesting to see how the Consul compares to his predecessor.

The Godsrill lies still and smooth as a mirror beside the banks of the wood. Swans, white and black, float upon the stream, lending a surreal elegance to the place.

“You spoke of snubs… That was a snub, wasn’t it, the tourney?”

You step on a white wooden bridge spanning the tributary. It is a graceful structure, built with scrollwork arches and palisades. A pair of ladies are standing in the middle of the pass, silently conversing. 

“You certainly have a high opinion of your skills,” you remark mildly, trying to make light of it. You giggle at Eren’s look and squeeze his hand comfortingly. “I only jest. Well, I wouldn’t know since I’m partial to you but… I think it was a snub… Armin and a host of others not partial to you are of the same opinion. You rode more than passing well that day.” Regardless of how it ended, that day was still a magical one. You will be glad to show the realm your affections however many times you can and let them revel in it and share in your joy.

Eren beams at you, making your heart flutter in your chest. “I’m glad to know you’re so partial to me,” he smirks, but adds in a more serious tone, “I never truly realized how petty the king could be until that day. His quarrel is with Father, not me.”

“Unfortunately, getting caught in the crossfire of others’ battles happens far too often.” 

You alight from the bridge and continue down the path through wooded lands once more. You come across a hunter arranging his tackle some ways down the lane, perhaps one who is claiming his rights to this wood granted by his lieges long ago. The Halkins own wardenship of the godsway and its surrounding lands, and allow both highborn and low to come and worship as they please. The commons are afforded rights to hunt as well, so long as they pay a tenth of their earnings from their kills to their masters. As it is, the Liege of Kostrokan counts amongst his or her titles the style of Warden of the Faith. The hunter looks up at your coming and doffs his cap, then persists with his labors.

Something blue and glowing tickles at the edge of your vision, and you glance around to see a patch of beautiful raindrops growing near the roots of an adjacent pine. That piques your interest. Raindrops do not grow in the summer, not in the southron places, anyway. You suppose the cooler northern clime does them great favors. You strike off the path, leaving your betrothed to trail after you, slightly puzzled. A yen to pick the blooms has come over you and now nothing must do but that you must have them for your budding collection - it is just your luck you came across these before your knight errant could and so you must oblige yourself.

“Unfortunate that I didn’t win, though, the tourney,” Eren states as you set about plucking your prize.

“Yes, it is unfortunate, and on the day of the Warrior, too. You’ll have other tourneys. You’ve won your fair share of them before, from what I can recall.”

“Not the Warrior’s Day Tourney, though. But that hardly matters. Had I won, I would’ve been able to crown you my Queen of Love and Beauty.”

You freeze, a hand stretched out for your last bloom. A loud rushing besets your ears as your heart thumps hard in your chest. You straighten up, the raindrop well and truly forgotten, and steel yourself- why would you need to steel yourself, it is only him, only Eren, only-

Your fingers tighten around your posy. There is something in his voice that sends you a-tremble. Some part of you does not want to look at him. You do not know how you will be able to bear whatever it is that you will see in his face and those eyes of his, eyes of emerald that see, see more than you know possible. Yet look at him you must, and so you look.

You remember that day, a thousand years ago, the day you bound your fates to each other, the day he stared at you so intensely, the first time you held each other’s gazes. He had looked at you as if he would see through the very heart of you, and the weight of his stare had felt almost like a physical presence. 

Now he looks at you as if he will see through the very heart of you, and the weight of his stare feels almost like a physical presence. A gentler presence, so much gentler, as though a year of friendship and familiarity has tempered what doubts and reservations he had about your whole arrangement.

Never has he looked so beautiful.

Never have you felt so overwhelmed.

“Why are you so fascinated by the Old Faith?” you find yourself asking. Relief floods your senses as the intensity leeches from him at your query.

He looks you over, mild amusement on his face. There is something almost knowing about the expression. “I suppose it stems from my time at Seamont. Armin and I would read in their sanctum most afternoons, so I came to associate sanctums with good memories. And the Old Faith is simple, easy. There are no rites, no priests, no unnecessary pomp. It’s not quick to condemn but for the gravest of sins like kinslaying, incest, the breaking of krajü… In all, it’s just you and the gods.” He leans back against the pine, staring up at its towering branches. “A simple faith for a simple man.”

But nothing about you is simple.

You take a step forward and find yourself falling. And giving your betrothed an armful of young woman.

All at once, your heart is hammering again.

This is, far and away, so much more different than slamming into him at a game of Catch the Flag. Heat and sweat and hard, lean muscle were all you knew then. Soap and wood and hard, lean muscle are all you know now. And the irresistible, enthralling, beguiling scent of Eren, which dominates all, even the spray of raindrops crushed in your fist.

When did he get this tall? you think, dazed, as you tilt your head up to watch the wide eyes of surprise slowly narrow into eyes of…

You swallow thickly. His eyes have darkened, and they are flickering from your own to your lips and back again. He is leaning closer, you realize with a thrill. The arm around your waist tightens as does your grip on his shirt. Blue, you remember. His shirt is blue, and it brings out the blues in his eyes, eyes that have now gone black as pitch, eyes that are closing…

“There you both are!”

You can’t help the squeak that leaves your already parted mouth (when exactly did you part them?) as you push your betrothed away. Or try to. The arm around your waist is iron. The heel of your slipper brushes against something hard, the offending root of the pine you had tripped over, the root you cannot recall ever seeing as you set about your floral business.

“Lydia.” You have never heard him sound as dangerous as he did then. Eren stares down at you a moment, dark yet strangely blank, before turning to your sister. She shrinks beneath his gaze, her pert smile wilting as a plant wilts to blight. “What are you doing here?”

It takes some time for the girl to find her voice. “I-I-I was s-sent to look for you. By your master, S-sir Levi. The Guard wants a convene with their squires! For the upcoming pardon! In Z-zheletov…”

Eren diminishes against you, as though he has been punctured. “Fine,” he mutters, letting go of you at last. “That poxy bitch named duty is calling again.” The empty void has left his face, you are glad to see, to be replaced by something more rueful. “My lady.” And he laces his fingers through yours.

Lydia recoils as he bends down to whisper something in her ear but giggles as he brushes past with you in tow. The words ‘newt’ and ‘pillow’ drift over to you, and you smile.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

---

A/N:

Ah, duty (and little sisters) can be so annoying, can they?

Alas, the Greater Will has other plans. But they can have a very cliché, tripping almost-kiss, as a treat.

At last, the Northern Matter is at an end! We can finally move on to other matters. Also, here’s me indulging my little Filipino heart and having them play fantasy Patintero, hueheuehueuheue. Oh, to be a kid again...

And! ...did you notice him in the woods?

As always, thank you all for the reads! Until next time <3 xoxo

Tagging: @princess-okkotsu @lukepattersin @aki-and-saltfish

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #eren jeager x reader #Eren Jaeger #eren yeager #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan

[yanxidarlings]

The way part of me sees Nick Galitzine as Ernie because of you, but two other parts of me are seeing Ross Lynch or Evan Peters. I can't make up my mind

oh wow, i never thought of evan peters as ernie! i can kind of see it but i went through a phase of seeing evan peters as evan rosier (solely because of the name) which kind of skewers my view.

comparing him to original ernie i can definately see the vision. evan peters also strikes me as a possible zacharias smith fancast as well, he's giving me strong hufflepuff vibes.

i think i've heard of ross lynch as ernie before but he's just not selling me like evan peters is

the facial structure is quite similar but one of the reasons my personal ernie fancast is nicholas galitzine is because of the "upper class" vibe he has in his gif's and images. something about his vibe just sells him as ernie for me

i think the vibe a fancast gives is the most important, one actor might have the perfect resemblance and one might have the perfect vibe and i'll always go for the vibe 😔👊 case two is blaise zabini who does have a lot of good fancasts out there like reece king, lucien laviscount, or my personal favourite, rome flynn, but louis cordice's blaise zabini's vibes are simply off the charts which is why despite his very limited gif sources i insist on using him as blaise zabini in my writings.

would love to hear about everyones fancast's!

#not a headcanon #well kind of #ernie macmillan #blaise zabini #i really love interacting with anon's so don't be afraid to send in random shit #harry potter #hp fancast

[dapperbasil]

OC Kiss Week: Day 6

Reno, Nevada. February 14, 2024

Rather than go out or do anything fancy for Valentines, Zacharias suggests a relaxing night in. It's their first Valentines holiday since officially going public with their relationship, and a rare chance for the two to just be themselves with each other.

“Stupid haven built for stupid tall Ventrue. Who even puts spices on the top shelf anyway?” Standing on the tips of her toes, Tammy tried as hard as she could to reach for the spice rack that taunted her just out of reach. Across the kitchen she could hear a chuckle from the man slicing tomatoes who clearly wasn't even trying to hide his amusement at her plight. “Not even going to offer to help?” A pout was fixed on her face as she continued to struggle to reach. 

The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board didn't stop as Zacharias continued with the task at hand. His voice did however carry over loud enough for her to hear him even over the ambient sounds of the kitchen. “I believe it was you who insisted on the spice rack sitting so high up, dear. I didn't offer to help since you seemed so determined to get them down on your own.” He was quick with his work, finishing just in time to turn and see her pulling over a chair to give herself extra height. Before she could finish climbing up, Zacharias was there pulling her down from her precarious perch.

“What happened to not offering to help?” Her pout had turned to a slight smirk as he held her by her hips, having not let go from bringing her back to the floor. Instead of answering her, Zacharias pulled her into a passionate embrace, silencing her with a kiss on the lips. Her hands wandered before finally wrapping around his neck to deepen the kiss, keeping him held there for as long as she could justify. Eventually one of the kitchen timers began beeping and the two had to separate to quickly get moving on their meal prep.

Dutifully, Zacharias put away her chair before pulling down the various herbs and spices they needed for the recipe while Tammy rushed over to stir the pasta. “It's not often we cook together, I couldn't simply allow you to get yourself hurt. You are the clumsiest woman I know, after all.” His tone was light, and though Tammy knew he was picking at her, she still pretended like she was hurt.

“The only thing that hurts is my heart. Do you have no faith in me, darling?” Staying busy cooking made it easy for her to not face him, to feign harm a little bit longer. A small sigh escaped her lips as the two of them continued to work on dinner together, cherishing the time they were spending together. It was these moments that she clung to the most, when they could just be themselves with nobody else watching. No expectations of the Baron and Reeve, no other Ventrue looking down at their soft, careful intimacy. He had always claimed that he wasn’t the romantic type, yet making valentines dinner together was his idea.

Tammy felt his arms reach around her midsection and him leaning into her from behind, leaving soft, gentle kisses in her hair. “I’m simply stating the truth, Tammy. You’re painfully unaware of your surroundings.” His voice was muffled, as he was still kissing her as he spoke and continued to do so even when Tammy playfully swat at his hands. “I can’t very well fault you for it, but your situational awareness needs work.” 

The smugness in his voice was clearly audible as Tammy shook her head and laughed. “And your social awareness needs work, dear.” She turned her head and got on the tips of her toes to leave a single kiss on his cheek before sliding out from under his grasp. “But of course, I can’t very well fault you for that.” More laughs and playful jabs were shared between the two as they turned back to their work, the lighthearted tenderness persisting as well. When there was nothing left to do but wait for the food to cook, Tammy slipped her hand into his, silently begging for the moment to continue for as long as it could.

#ockiss24 #oc kiss week #Tammy King #Zacharias #Portland by Night #Ventrue's gambit #dapper drabbles #Vampire the Masquerade #Ventrue #vtm

[holystormfire]

Luke 1:5-25

The angel of the Lord appeared to Zechariah

The Annunciation to Zacharias,

Painted by Giovanni di Paolo (Giovanni di Paolo di Grazia, 1398–1482),

Painted circa 1455-60,

Tempera and gold on wood in Metropolitan Museum, New York

Gospel Reading

In the days of King Herod of Judaea there lived a priest called Zechariah who belonged to the Abijah section of the priesthood, and he had a wife, Elizabeth by name, who was a descendant of Aaron. Both were worthy in the sight of God, and scrupulously observed all the commandments and observances of the Lord. But they were childless: Elizabeth was barren and they were both getting on in years.

Now it was the turn of Zechariah’s section to serve, and he was exercising his priestly office before God when it fell to him by lot, as the ritual custom was, to enter the Lord’s sanctuary and burn incense there. And at the hour of incense the whole congregation was outside, praying.

Then there appeared to him the angel of the Lord, standing on the right of the altar of incense. The sight disturbed Zechariah and he was overcome with fear. But the angel said to him, ‘Zechariah, do not be afraid, your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth is to bear you a son and you must name him John. He will be your joy and delight and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord; he must drink no wine, no strong drink. Even from his mother’s womb he will be filled with the Holy Spirit, and he will bring back many of the sons of Israel to the Lord their God. With the spirit and power of Elijah, he will go before him to turn the hearts of fathers towards their children and the disobedient back to the wisdom that the virtuous have, preparing for the Lord a people fit for him.’

Zechariah said to the angel, ‘How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is getting on in years.’ The angel replied, ‘I am Gabriel who stand in God’s presence, and I have been sent to speak to you and bring you this good news. Listen! Since you have not believed my words, which will come true at their appointed time, you will be silenced and have no power of speech until this has happened.’ Meanwhile the people were waiting for Zechariah and were surprised that he stayed in the sanctuary so long. When he came out he could not speak to them, and they realised that he had received a vision in the sanctuary. But he could only make signs to them, and remained dumb.

When his time of service came to an end he returned home. Sometime later his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she kept to herself. ‘The Lord has done this for me’ she said ‘now that it has pleased him to take away the humiliation I suffered among men.’

Reflection on the painting

When we hear the word ‘annunciation’ we probably immediately think of the annunciation of the angel Gabriel to Mary. This gospel reading gives us another annunciation, the annunciation of the angel Gabriel to Zechariah.

The angel announces to Zechariah that his wife Elizabeth is to bear him a son whose name is to be John. In Hebrew this name means ‘God is gracious’. God is about to be surprisingly gracious to Zechariah and his wife. However, unlike in the case of Mary, Zechariah’s faith is not quite adequate for this extraordinary announcement. It was indeed an extraordinary announcement as both Zechariah and his wife were advanced in years. God was about to do something that far exceeded Zechariah’s expectations. Zechariah could not quite take it in. The angel then announced to him that his inability to hear what God was about to do would show itself in his inability to speak. Inadequate listening can often lead to inadequate speaking. Hearing comes before speaking and is more important than speaking. Hearing always comes first.

The gospel reading calls on us to be open always to the surprising ways of a gracious and generous God, and warns us that our limited expectations of God can be a block to God’s work, leaving us less alive than God intends us to be.

This painting from circa 1455 by Giovanni di Paolo, one of the most important figures in the history of Sienese painting, is the first panel, the first episode of an ambitious narrative cycle he painted: a series of twelve scenes from the Life of Saint John the Baptist. In this painting, we see the incredulous Zechariah performing his priestly duties by the altar. It is exactly then that the angel in our painting is appearing to him. The angel has a stern look. The whole scene is painted in an elaborate architectural setting where the domes and the lantern recall Brunelleschi's celebrated cupola which crowns the Duomo in Florence.

Article by: Father Patrick van der Vorst

#biblical #biblical art #christian blog #holy bible #christ #biblical angel #jesus #glorytogod #art history #jesusislord #faith in jesus #christian doctrine #jesusisgod

[childofchrist1983]

And thou, child, shalt be called the prophet of the Highest: for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways; To give knowledge of salvation unto his people by the remission of their sins, Through the tender mercy of our God; whereby the dayspring from on high hath visited us, To give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. - Luke 1:76-79 KJV

Elizabeth and Zacharias were old and childless when the Angel Gabriel appeared to Zacharias and told him that they would have a very special son who would be "Elijah" and prepare the way for the coming Messiah. When Zacharias questioned Gabriel, he became mute, unable to speak until after the birth of his son whom he named "John" as the angel had directed him. Then his mouth was opened and this is a portion of his prayer. Both the angel and Zacharias are testifying that John is preparing the way for Jesus Christ, the Messiah. Our LORD, God, Savior and King!

I wonder if those who were present understood what he was saying. I'm not sure that once John the Baptist appeared preaching a baptism of repentance that people truly understood that he was preparing the way, even though he was pretty clear that while he was not the Messiah, he was preparing the way. We are not Messiahs either, but we are called to prepare the way for minds and hearts to be open to Jesus Christ and His Gospel Truth. It seems that this call to discipleship and the theme of justice are two of the main subjects of importance in the Gospels. How else are people to know of God and His grace-given gift of salvation? Jesus sent out His Apostles and then more disciples to bring the Good News of the Kingdom of Heaven to the people of His time and then, of course, He sends us.

John was called by Jesus a prophet, and more than a prophet, that no man born of woman was greater than John. But Jesus goes on to say that the one who is least in the Kingdom of God is greater than John. He is referring to all those who believed in Him and His preaching, repented of their sins and were baptized by Him. He is also referring to us who believe in both John's message of repentance, and also Jesus message of living a life centered on God and His love and justice. God sent John the Baptist to prepare the way for Jesus Christ. And He sends us to prepare the hearts of all those who we know and encounter to come to believe in the Good News of the Gospel and its promise of salvation and eternal life in Heaven. May He give us the graces we need to be good witnesses of God's light and love. We lift our voices in praise to Him for His love, mercy, faithfulness and grace. - For EVERYTHING!

It is vital that we remain rooted in Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ through prayer and His Holy Word and Spirit and that we live and walk as a beacon of His light and love and share and spread the Gospel Truth daily, so that the lost souls in this world can come to know Him and be saved. The more we focus on Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ, growing spiritually by building our relationship with Him, leaning on Him and His Holy Word and Spirit, the better off we will be. Thanks to this and our faith in Him, we know that everything will be alright. And we will forever be grateful to Him. As true and born-again Christians, we believe in Him and His Holy Word and we strive daily to walk in His Holy Spirit. We know though our mortal bodies should die, He will raise us up and into new and glorious bodies (The Rapture). We who are truly His and alive at His second coming will never die, and our bodies will be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, and so shall we ever be with Him in His Kingdom of Heaven forevermore (1 Corinthians 15:51-52, 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17). This is one of many promises given to us by God Himself. Thank God for His strength and guidance when we are faced with sin and temptation. Thank Him for His mercy and grace. Through Bible study and prayer, God reveals His wisdom and guides us to see opportunities to grow closer to Him and grow spiritually. He gives us direction to live our lives daily according to His will.

Jesus Christ is the ONLY way to Heaven (John 3:5, 14:6), the ONLY way to salvation (Acts 4:12, Ephesians 2:8-9) and He is the resurrection and the life (John 11:25-26). Jesus Christ the LORD of lords, KING of kings, the GOD of gods (Deuteronomy 10:17, 1 Timothy 6:15, Revelation 17:14, Revelation 19:16) - He is the Living, Almighty and Everlasting God (Isaiah 9:6, Revelation 1:8, John 3:16, John 3:36, Jeremiah 10:10). There is no other God besides Him (Isaiah 45:5). We MUST humble ourselves before Him, turning our backs on false teachers, false gods and idols and our sinful ways. We MUST repent and turn back to God and recognize who He is and love Him in return for His great love for us. We MUST make God top priority everyday! May we be motivated to spread God's Holy Word and Gospel Truth to all the Earth, knowing that it is the only hope of all those lost in their sins. Let us not hold out a false hope for men to be saved without the Gospel, but instead, strive to do our part to get the Gospel out to a lost and dying world.

Leaning on Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ through prayer and His Holy Word and Spirit strengthens us and our knowledge and wisdom about God and His Gospel Truth, exposing these imposters. May God help us to seek and lean on Him daily to gain the strength, wisdom and spiritual discernment needed to expose Satan and his imposters who seek to destroy us and God's ultimate Truth. Everyday, we must remember to share Jesus Christ's Gospel Truth with the world and to thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross at Calvary. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and from the eternal damnation of Hell. In all we say and do, may all praise, honor and glory always be given to Him and His Kingdom of Heaven.

With renewed minds, hearts and wills, let us serve Him humbly and faithfully out of pure love and grateful rejoicing. May He remind us of His presence and to remain at peace, fully knowing that all will be well because He is always with us. Let us seek Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ today and everyday with all our heart and being, looking for His love, light and will for our lives with each step we take. Let us seek to please Him with our thoughts, words, and deeds and seek to advance His Kingdom of Heaven and His glory with our lives. Let us seek Him from a pure and humble heart, and when we so seek, we believe Him and His promise that we will find. May He help us all to be more sensitive to the teaching ministry of His Holy Word and Spirit, relying on Him and allowing Him to speak to us and guide us every step of our Christian journey.

God gave us the Holy Bible - His living and Holy Word - to let us know of Him and His abiding love and care as well as guide and prepare us for all our lives. May He help us encourage one another as we continue our walk with Him and our duty to Him daily. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for being present for all our new beginnings and all our lives. May He redirect any anxiety we feel as He provides countless opportunities for growth and change. May we humble ourselves before God always, asking Him to forgive our sins and make our hearts and lives anew through His Holy Word and Spirit. May He help us make Him and His Holy Word top priority, so we can grow spiritually and grow in our relationship with Him as we apply it to our daily lives. Thank God that we can focus on Him and everything about Him, for that is what keeps us sane and at peace. May our words and actions always be a reflection of Him and His Holy Word and Spirit and will.

May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus! He loves us and He knows what is best for us. Seek, follow and trust in Him - Always!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful LORD, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[bouquetwrites]

Everything I Thought That I Could Save

It wasn’t fair. (Book vi ch 11 spoilers)

The trip back to the Askran kingdom was a deafeningly quiet one. The order would need to regroup and devise a new plan to stop Embla after she foiled their initial ones so easily. Although, with how easily everything fell to ruin with their first plan, and with his longtime friend dead because of it, Alfonse wasn’t certain he saw much point in trying to come up with something. For all he knew, Embla would just find a way around this one too. Because how dare he have any sliver of hope, the very thing that got Bruno killed.

He hardly left his room since they returned. Only to eat and bathe, and even then, he did those things less so than he typically would. It pained the ones closest to him to see him in such a state, but no one could really blame him. He was on the verge of helping someone he held so dear achieve something he'd been working towards for years, only to have it—to have him— ripped out from underneath with no warning. On top of all of that, he had to be the one to kill him. It would be even more troubling if this wasn’t how he responded.

The prince sat at his desk, holding the mask that Bruno had donned until recently in his hands. His head felt like an arrow pierced it from the abundance of tears he shed in that moment. In the moments since he lost him. His grip on the garment tightened, his face falling into the fists that formed as he choked out more sobs.

“Alfonse?”

He heard a faint knock on his door, alongside a concerned voice calling out for him. The voice of the summoner. His trusted companion. His love. It pained him even more to realize that in the midst of his grief, he had neglected her. He knew she didn’t resent him for it; that she knew and understood how much Bruno meant to him. In turn, she cared just as much for him and was just as determined to bring him back to the order. Even so, the guilt still picked and prodded at him, and he couldn’t get it to stop.

“Babe...? Can you please let me in?” She begged from the other side, and he wondered if she was speaking metaphorically as well as literally. “...please?”

His chest ached as her voice trembled on the last word. It was rare for her to cry, at least in front of others; even him. He could hardly recall the last time he saw her do so, and it cut deep whenever she did.

The lump in Kiran’s throat threatened to snap with how tight it was, and whatever battle she was fighting against the tears in her eyes, she was mercilessly defeated. She shakily stood in front of her beloved’s door, one hand laying on top of it while the other clutched at her chest, where her heart was. She never thought of herself as good with things such as these, but she knew she had to at least try. She loved him too much not to.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, babe, just…” She whimpered. “Just… It kills me to know you’re hurting this much. It’s fucking destroying me knowing that I can’t do anything to take it away. I know you think you have to be strong for the Order… and for your people… but you shouldn’t have to deal with this by yourself. That’s not fair to you.”

Perhaps it wasn’t fair, but it was what Alfonse had grown to be used to. Even as he found himself opening up to others more and allowing himself to form bonds with those around him, he struggled with being completely vulnerable. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, moreso that he knew as future king, there were certain expectations placed upon him. Were he not to live up to them, he feared that people would start to lose faith in him.

“I know how much you loved Bru… Zacharias.” Kiran continued, her voice straining from her own emotions.

The prince could feel even more burning hot tears fall quickly down his cheeks as he heard her refer to his fallen friend by the name he went by in the time he knew him. She had only ever known him as Bruno, but even after it had been discovered that the Emblian prince and his childhood friend were the same person, she noticed that Alfonse would still call him Zacharias. She wasn’t sure if using the latter name would help in any way, or if it would just bring him more pain. She wasn’t sure of anything that she was doing.

“From the time I spent with him and from seeing the two of you together, I can tell he loved you just as much, and he… he wouldn’t want you to think this was your fault. Because it’s not—“

Her words came to an abrupt halt as she watched the door open. In front of her stood a still incredibly distraught Alfonse, eyes bloodshot and accompanied by dark circles underneath. It shattered her heart to see someone she loved so much in such a state, and in some ways, she felt powerless.

“I didn’t account for Embla knowing our intentions….” He murmured.

“None of us could have.” She tried to assure him.

“We were… so close…” His voice shook as more tears fell. “We were so close to… close to saving him… he had been through so much hell…”

It was then she noticed the mask in his hands. Kiran’s hand clasped at her mouth as sobs escaped from it. Truly, Bruno had been dealt an awful hand throughout his life. For it to end the way it did felt outrageously unjust.

“It’s not fair…” Alfonse wept. “It’s not fair…!”

The devastated prince was now on his knees in front of the summoner, hands covering his face as his body shuddered from all the emotions running rampant through him. Kiran promptly stepped into his room, shutting the door behind her and joining him on the ground. Throwing her arms around him, she pulled him into as strong of an embrace as she could muster.

“It’s not, babe. I’m so sorry…” She choked out, echoing his previous words to her. She moved a hand up to stroke the back of his head, feeling her own tears flooding down her face as he pulled her in closer and held her tighter.

Neither of them could recall how much time they spent crying in each other’s arms. At some point, Alfonse could feel himself growing fatigued. This didn’t surprise the summoner, given how much transpired in such a short time. She helped him into his bed, saddened, yet relieved as she observed him almost immediately falling asleep. She knew full well how desperately he needed some rest with everything he had been through recently.

She crawled into the space next to him, wanting to hold him more as he slept but also not wanting to smother him. Eventually, she settled for soothingly rubbing his arm, watching him slowly breathe in his slumber until she herself let her weariness overtake her as she slept by his side.

#fire emblem #fire emblem heroes #alfonse #kiran #bruno #zacharias #my summoner #kiralfonse #bouqfonse #writing #hurt/comfort

[annachumsblog]

Cuphead first knew about Mugman's crush on Cala Maria

When he overheard Mugman belting out one of Cala Maria's songs as he listens to a Cala Maria jazz album one evening at their new apartment complex in Inkblot City

The song that Mugman belted out ( in the scene mentioned above) was Unusual Way from Nine the Musical

Cuphead upon seeing Mugman belting out Unusual Way : 🤯🤯🤯🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

The next day after Cuphead first discovered Mugman's crush on Cala Maria

Cuphead : * arrives for his day shift with coffee in hand * Morning, y'all!

Chips : * tips hat * Howdy.

Wheezy : Sup.

Mangosteen : * waves * MORNING!

Pirouletta : Privet, comrade

Some other co workers present at day shift also said hi to Cuphead

Cuphead : * was cleaning the tables and getting ready for the 10am opening....and giggling *

Chips : Now, why are you giggling like a tickled horse at this hour?

Cuphead : * wheezes * I probably shouldnt say this.....but.....Mugman has a crush!

A number of co workers just dropped whatever they are doing and rushed to Cuphead

Mangosteen : TELL US MORE! TELL US MORE!

Chips : Did they get really far?

Mangosteen : TELL US MORE! TELL US MORE!

Pirouletta : Who exactly did your brother have a crush on?

Cuphead : * giggles * Y'all guess.

Hocus : Hmmmmmm * ponders * Maybe.....King Dice?

All the other employees gasp

Wheezy : Dude, no way, he and The Devil are MARRIED * points to a picture of King Dice and Devil at their wedding on a wall *

Cuphead : * looks at picture * WOW.

Wheezy : Hmmmm.....Cuphead, give us the gender of your brother's crush

Cuphead : Its a she.

Other employees : * gasp, oohs and giggles *

Ginette : Ohhhhh......uh.......maybe......Bon Bon?

Cuphead: No way, Gin.

Pirouletta : Perhaps one of the waitresses at this casino?!

Cuphead : Mugman's crush doesnt work at the casino BUT you may have seen her before.

The other employees : * start firing guesses and theories as Cuphead says no to the various guesses and yes to some theories *

It was also a day when Cuphead has a day shift and Mugman has a night shift btw

Mangosteen : WAIT WAIT * wheezes * So BASICALLY Mugs' crush lives underwater, right?!

Cuphead : Yup

Phear Lap : * listening to most of it * Isnt it......Cala Maria?

Cuphead : * grins * BINGO! HE GOT IT RIGHT!

The other employees : * ooohs, screams and giggles *

Chips : Well ILL BE DARNED! OUR LITTLE MUGMAN IS SWEET ON THE FAMOUS JAZZ SINGER FROM THE OCEAN!

Wheezy : * smiles * I think that explains why Mugman LOVES listening to her songs, yes?

King Dice : * bursts in * WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?

All employees stop their laughing

Chips : * shouts * MUGMAN HAS A CRUSH ON CALA MARIA!

King Dice : * smiles in amusement * Oh? Well, that's swell. Now get back to work - the casino opens in 15 minutes.

The employees mumble and rushes to continue their work

Later that evening, when Mugman arrives for his night shift and Cuphead already left to sleep in cuz he was so exhausted

Chips : * slaps Mugman on the back * Howdy, Romeo! Hows the weather today?

Mugman : Wha -

Rumulus : Ey, Mugs, lemme introduce you about alchohol for lovers!

Mugman : What the actual fuck -

Pirouletta : You think we didnt notice, did you?

Mugman : Notice what?

Mangosteen : YOU LOVE CALA MARIA! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Mugman : * blushes * WHAT NO SHADDUP -

Phear Lap : Its cool, buddy, your brother told ALL OF US this morning - even the Devil knows now.

Mugman : * internally screaming * WHAT THE ACTUAL - * sighs heavily * I'm gonna serve these 4 tables. Bye * runs away *

A number of employees within Mugman's vicinity guffawed

Bonus

Later, sometime past midnight

Cuphead : * is sleeping on his bed in his bedroom at his and Mugman's apartment *

Mugman : * kicks open the door of Cuphead's room * CUPHEAD SIMON DISHTON!

Cuphead : * shot up angrily * MUGMAN ZACHARIAS DISHTON I WAS IN A MIDDLE OF A WONDERFUL DREAM!

Mugman : * jumps on Cuphead's head * YOU are the reason why I had a crazy night at work just now!

Cuphead : * chuckles nervously * Er.....what now?

Mugman : ALL of our co workers AND King Dice AND THE DEVIL know about my feelings towards Cala and they frequently tease me!

Cuphead : * shrugs * Well, consider this a blessing since you got extra helping hands if you are gonna ask Cala out - eventually

Mugman : UGHHHHHHH I CANT EVEN * buries his face in a corner of Cuphead's sheets *

Cuphead : * laughs as he Pats his brother's back reassuringly *

🤩🤩🤯🤯🥺🥺🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

#casino cups #i headcanon that the cup bros' surname is dishton cuz why tf not #cuphead #mugman #LOL THEY ARE BOTH MOODS #PLS #casino shenanigans #king dice #devil #cala maria #chips bettigan #pirouletta #tipsy troop #mangosteen #devildice #hocus pocus #pip and dot