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darkromanceenthusiast · 10 months

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Gabriel (2014) x reader

I cannot find this characters last name to save my motherfucking life

Contains: Beach scene re-write, reader tries to turn Gabe down because they know they can’t help him but ultimately gives in, might write more idk, cursing, fluff, and brief mentions of a knife, reader is referred to as “wife” but otherwise GN, reader loves him so much, heart hurts.

“What the fuck?Jesus Christ!” You jumped up from the dead sleep and bed as you saw the dark haired man behind you, it took a few seconds for it to click in your mind you knew him.

“Surprise.” He says, an adorable smile on his face, his eyes are bright and happy as he stares up at me.

“Gabe, what the fuck are you doing here? You just can't get into my bed and surprise me?” I say, still freaking out, it had been years since I’ve seen him and now he’s just here.

“Yes, I can. That's what I just did. I just...” he trailed off and I looked over him, he was fidgeting with his hands a bit.

“How did you get here?” I ask, sitting back down on the side of the bed.

“I drove.” He answered simply as if the question was that simple.

“No, I mean, why are you here? How did you find me?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, he still had that fucking smile on his face, the one that made me want to hug him but I fought it.

“You look amazing. I missed you so much.” He says as he goes to stroke my face, I take a step back and his face looks as if I just kicked a puppy as he tugs on the sleeves of his sweater.

“Gabe, what the fuck? This is so fucking weird...What are you doing?” I ask

“You know, I thought you'd be a little happier to see me.” He answers, clearly upset that my reaction isn’t jumping for joy.

“You just broke into my house and got into bed with me while I was sleeping. Obviously I'm a little scared.” You explained as you paced a bit, how would you explain this to anyone? Does Gabe’s family know where he is?

“You think I'm scary?” His sad voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. I sigh and look at him, sitting on my bed with his brown curls poking out from under his red beanie, his blue eyes look scared and worried, I notice the way his sweater is baggy on him and wonder if he’s eating well and I can see his bottom lip trembling and I have to look away.

“No. I'm not...I'm not saying you're scary. I'm just trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.” I answer and he perks up a bit, he stands and comes closer to me, holding out one of his bruised hands.

“Let's go to the beach.” He says, his smile making my heart melt.

“Gabe… I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I said softly. All I knew was Gabe is unpredictable and I hadn’t heard from him in so long. I was scared, this guy tracked me down and who knows what he’s capable of now, we aren’t silly kids anymore.

“I have a plan. I decided on my birthday. There was a bunch of fucking crazy people eating my cake, and a bunch of fat nurses telling me happy birthday as if they gave a shit, and I decided right there that I should be with you. 'Cause that's what families do. You know, normal families, they spend time together and be happy.” He explained with a smile and my heart sank, I wasn’t what this man wanted, I was just what he thought he wanted but I knew I couldn’t actually give him the help or happiness he deserves.

“Gabe, we're not a family. I... I thought you were living at your mom's house.” You said as your mind raced, crazy people eating his cake? Nurses? Then it clicked, Gabe’s family put him in an institution… you remembered his obsessive behavior that started shortly before he disappeared all those years ago.

“No. Shit. I'm getting ahead of myself. We-We gotta go down to the beach.” He said, this time grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the door, you fight with him a bit on it and he gets desperate.

“Gabe, it's freezing cold outside. I'm not gonna go to the beach.” You say, hoping to convince him you didn’t need to leave the house as his grasp tightened.

“No, see, you're getting it all confused. I just started thinking, what would they want me to do? Like what would a normal, boring person do in this situation? So I just started showering and washing all my stuff and smiling all the time... All that shit that they think is important, that makes 'em feel safe, you know? I just started acting like everyone else.” He said, you could see tears starting to form in his eyes, his throat tightened as he talked and you realized if this man cries you’re done for… you just can’t do it… seeing tears running down his cheeks will kill you.

“Gabe...” you whispered, hoping to calm him down.

“Like I'm supposed to act. Like-Like... Like an adult.” He said pleadingly

“What are you talking about?” You asked, your guard lowering a bit,

“And I asked them if I could come home f-for the weekend to surprise you, and they said yes. They said yes, so here I am. Come on, I need to ask you something, but it's gotta be on the beach.” He pleaded and you slowly relented, you let him, it was going okay until there was a sound on the other side of the house and pulled out a large kitchen knife, you felt your heart jump into your throat before it settled in your stomach like a sinking pit.

“Gabe, what the fuck is that?” You asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What? It's... It's just in case.” He said as he turned to you, the knife was gripped in his hand and his eyes looked a bit wild as he gave me a small smile.

“Just in case of what?” I ask, keeping my voice soft,

“In case of this. In case of someone coming… trying to keep us apart. Hey, it's self-defense. It's just protection, you know?” He explained softly and I looked at him concerned, why would he feel he needed self-defense to take me to the beach?

“Gabe, you're not going to be hurt.” I say as I reach slowly for the knife.

“Of course they are!” He raised his voice slightly and jerked the knife away from me, I put my hands up and nodded slowly,

“Fine… okay… let's go to the beach.” I say and he immediately calms down grabbing my hand as he leads me down to the beach, we walk in silence for a while before he speaks,

“You okay? You're freezing.” He says as he pulls off his coat and wraps it around me, I smile to myself softly when he does, I loved Gabe but I knew he needed more than I could ever reliably give him.

“Yeah.” I answered quickly.

“I'm-I'm sorry I had to do all that, but it's gonna be okay. I promise.” He said as we stood near the edge of the water.

“What are you doing? You can't act like this, Gabriel. You can't do this. This isn't okay.” I say, a bit worried about the knife in his pocket.

“You know you're the only one that's allowed to call me that? You and Dad. 'Cause you're the only ones that really love me. Do you know that?” He said, a small smile on his face as he squinted against the sun, his nose crinkling in a way I adored,

“Gabe...” I started, unsure of what to say,

“Do you remember when we got married?” He asked suddenly and I thought back to the summer we were kids, we had met on the beach we were now standing on, he was the cutest boy you had ever seen and my first love… until he disappeared.

“Ofcourse I remember… what about it?” I ask as he takes a small step towards me,

“I've just been having these flashbacks, like déjà vu or whatever, of when we got married. Do you remember? You kissed me on the beach, like where everyone could see.And then I said I love you. I whispered in your ear. Do you remember what you did? You grabbed my hand and pulled me into the ocean. And we went under and I proposed, and you said yes. Do you remember that? It was amazing. See? There it is.” He explains and I can feel the smile on my face of remembering those simpler times with him.

“Yeah….Holy shit.” I say softly,

“They've been... telling me that I'm a piece of shit. That I'm worthless.” He says as he looks off to the side, he’s still fidgeting with his hands as he does,

“Who tells you that?” I ask, genuine concern for him,

“But then I've been thinking about that moment when we got married, and-and I realize, you know, I'm...I'm not worthless. I'm pretty... I'm okay.” He says with a crooked smile, he looks at me with wide eyes,

“Of course you are.” I answer, Gabe has always been a soft guy, when his temper is under control.

“I mean, as long as...As long as I have you, I'm okay. As long as you love me, I'm fine. Yeah, I think I knew even then you were gonna be my wife.” He said and it’s my turn to look at him wide-eyed,

“Gabe, what are you talking about?” I ask as I can feel a cold sweat break out despite the cold weather,

“Shit, wait. Wait, hold on.” He says as he starts digging in his pockets and I start to shake a bit, I can’t handle this, I can’t do this, I can’t break his heart like this… I can’t hurt him.

“No, my... Gabe, what are you talking about?Please don't do this.” I pleaded softly, I prayed he wouldn’t do this to me, that he wouldn’t force me to rip my own heart out to hurt him. I watch as he gets excited as he looks down at the rind in his hand.

“This is how you’re supposed to do it, right?” He says as he takes a step back and gets down on one knee and looks up at me, I’m unsure of if his lips or hands are shaking more.

“No, don't...Don't do this, Gabe. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” I beg as I feel my chest tighten, I can’t hurt him but I can’t help him.

“(YFN), will you marry me?” He asks, his voice is shaky but overall confident,

“Oh My God.” I cover my mouth with my hand as I stare down at him,

“Like not kid stuff underwater, but-but for real. Aboveground, in front of God and everyone else. I want to be your husband. P-please? Say something?” He says, he begins getting desperate towards the end and all I can do is stare at him,

“Gabe, you're not... I don’t think… I’m not the same person I was five years ago, I-I’ve changed.” I say gently, hoping to talk some sense into him,

“No. No, no, no. No, I just...I just need you.Just you.” He says as he stands, the ring still held out to me as he stares into my eyes and I look away, I can’t bear it. I can’t bear seeing the pain on his face.

“Gabe, No.” I say as tears begin to stream down my face, not being able to hold it in any longer.

“No, don't. Don't, don't, don't. Don't...Don't be like them. Just... Please.I just need...We can live forever.And be happy.” He begged and I sobbed, burying my face in my hands as hot tears dropped down my red face, one of his hands cupped my cheek, wiping away my tears and I push it away.

“No. I ca...I can't help you. You need...You need real help. You need doctors and you need medicine...and you need people who know how to help you. I don't know how to help you.” I explain and he shakes his head and holds the ring out to me again.

“But...But I love you.” He says and I feel as if I might pass out,

“I love you too that’s why I hate that I can’t help you.” I say and tears begin to stream down his face aswell, he is still clutching the ring tightly,

“I'm just...I'm so full of love.I just... I just need you to love me back.” He says softly and I shake slightly,

“I do love you, Gabe.” I say and he looks back up into my eyes,

“Then p-please… just say you’ll marry me… I’ll be good. I’ll be a good husband.” He pleads and my heart sinks lower.

I can’t.

I can’t

But I have too.

I need too.

Who else would love him as much as I do?

Who else wouldn’t just call the fucking cops?

“Gabe… I… fuck… i-if I agree to marry you. If we do this you have to take your meds… you have to continue getting treatment and help…” I say slowly, choosing my words carefully. Gabe nodded as he stepped closer to me.

“I-I swear… I promise… anything for you.” He says eagerly. I nod slowly and hold my hand out to him, he smiles widely and slips the ring on my finger before pulling me in for a kiss. I couldn’t stop myself from pulling him closer. The fabric of his sweater in a death grip between my fingers as I cry into the crook of his neck. I love him, I’m going to help him. It takes a while before we pull apart.

“See? I knew it… We’re going to be so happy.” He says, my face cupped in his hands and I smile softly up at him. We will need to work things out, we will need to call his family and let them know he’s safe and where he is, I’ll also have to plead for him not to be sent back to the mental hospital, but as of right now I’m here on a cold ass beach with the one man I’ve loved since childhood with his ring weighing down my finger as he embrace each-other, all the other problems can wait.

#gabriel 2014 #rory culkin character x reader #rory culkin #gabriel (2014) x reader #rory culkin fanfic #jack thurlow x reader #Charlie Walker x reader #scream 4 #rory culkin x reader

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muddyorbsblr · 5 months

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reckless girl pt2

See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @holdmytesseract

Summary: Magnus, along with the rest of the station, launches into an all-hands investigation to find you, desperately hoping that he's not too late

Pairing: Magnus Martinsson x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: mentions of blood; sad bb Magnus hours; kidnapping; restrains (not the fun kind); non-consensual touching (not our bb Magnus he would never); more physical injuries; gun mentions and use; mention of painkillers (morphine) [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship

There were only ever a handful of times in Magnus' career so far where he felt he couldn't stomach a crime scene. Those few occasions involving the most gruesome of acts that a human being could have ever been subjected to.

However, despite how comparatively routine the scene looked when he arrived at your apartment, he found himself clutching his stomach, feet unable to move, upon laying eyes at the blood on the floor. Your furniture was all askew, signs of a struggle littered all over the now crime scene.

It was all he could do not to burst into tears when officers were placing crime scene tape over your front door.

Kurt clapped a hand down on his shoulder, trying to steady him. "Magnus, you sure you don't want to sit this one out? You're in no shape to work this case, this is your--"

"I have to find her, Kurt," he cut the senior detective off, doing his best to steel himself. "I have to know she's alright. Make sure she's safe again. She--" He choked on his own words, the lump in his throat making it near impossible to speak. "She's my whole world, I need her back."

Wallander sighed, knowing too well the feeling of helplessness that your boyfriend felt in every bone in his body at the moment. That he couldn't just do nothing and wait on a bunch of people that didn't care for you the way that he did to find you. "Very well, then. But you're not stepping foot in that scene. For your own sanity."

"Understood." He didn't want to be inside your apartment in the state it was in, either. That place was more a home to him than his own place; it felt so wrong having to process it like it was just another day at work. "I'll question her sister, see what she knows."

"The man that Y/N put in the hospital. The pick-up artist. Start there. If we know more about the people in the group he's in, it might give us a lead to where she coulda been taken."

Magnus blinked back his tears and made his way to your sister Stella, her eyes wide as saucers with worry and shock as she saw the detective. "I was really hoping we'd be meeting under happier circumstances. My sister speaks quite highly of you, I've never seen her so in love."

"We're going to find her," he said, trying to reassure himself as much as her. "What can you tell me about the man she fought two nights ago?"

She scrunched her face in an eerily similar way that you did whenever you were confused or trying to recall something. "Really not much to say about him, just a regular looking fella, but one of the guys he was with…he kept on talking about his father having connections and how he's gonna 'avenge his mate for what Y/N did to him'."

"Can you describe this friend of his?"

"I'll do you one better." She tapped away at her phone before handing it over to him, showing him a photo. "This is him. Marcus Ferguson. Menace to society touting around Daddy's money and power."

Magnus' blood ran cold. They'd been after Ferguson for the better part of a year, a prime suspect in the kidnapping and trafficking of women and girls from as young as 13. The heart-wrenching part was that they could never get their hands on the smoking gun that would put him away for good, and the victims that they'd managed to rescue were too afraid of retaliation from him and his family that they'd never bring themselves to testify.

And now he had you.

The details that Stella gave him led him to the restaurant you two were at the evening before last, and the owner more than happily volunteered the security footage from the time you two were in there and Ferguson's friend got into the altercation with you. He watched with a mix of fury and pride seeing how you held your own and ultimately brought the sleazy excuse for a human being down on the ground coughing and bleeding, curled into a ball.

Then Ferguson hung around close enough to the patrol car as you were getting arrested that he got your full name, and then he made a call, saying something to his friend before he was brought to the hospital to be treated. The words he mouthed on screen had the detective's pulse thundering in his ears, panic flooding his system.

"I'll have her by tomorrow night. She'll pay for what she did to you."

He was restless as he showed the station the footage from the restaurant, Kurt giving him the floor to address his fellow detectives and officers. "This is enough cause to believe that Y/N Y/L/N is in grave danger. We know what Ferguson is capable of. We know the damage he deals to his victims, and that's only the ones that we've found. It is imperative that we find her as soon as possible. Alive." His voice broke at the last word, the possibility of finding you anything other than that crushing him into pieces.

"Alright everyone, put all your cases on hold, this takes top priority," Wallander addressed the station. "I want eyes on Marcus Ferguson, someone find him and bring him in for questioning. We also know that his father Jeffrey owns over a dozen warehouses all throughout Ystad, more than enough for his so-called philanthropic efforts. Someone look into them, starting with the ones near the coast. Call them up, and tell me which ones don't answer the call. Get an officer to pay those warehouses a visit. Find Miss Y/L/N. Bring her back here alive. You have your orders."

It didn't take long before a more junior detective spoke up. "I have something. One of the warehouses didn't pick up the phone, and their registration documents show that they should be active and have a receptionist during office hours. And it's a five minute drive from there to Sandskog."

That was enough to get Magnus out of his seat and gearing up. He double checked to see that the magazine of his pistol was fully loaded.

"I'm coming to get you, sweetheart. Hold on for me," he whispered, hoping more than anything that when he wouldn't be bringing you out of the warehouse in a gurney and not a body bag.

The last thing you remembered was reaching to pick up a knife from your kitchen counter, hearing the distinct sound of another person breathing, along with another heartbeat, from within your apartment. You lived alone, and Stella was still at her hotel when you got off the phone with her just a few minutes ago. Right as you stepped into your apartment.

Then a rag went over your mouth, and a smell akin to ultra-concentrated alcohol flooded your nose. And everything went black.

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing you noticed was that you couldn't move. Your hands were bound behind your back with something twining and abrasive. Rope. You weren't gagged or blindfolded. Your legs were immobile as well, each ankle roped to a chair leg. "What the--"

"Oh goody you're awake," a male voice filled the vast space you were held in. It looked like a warehouse, fairly maintained but empty. The faint sound of waves outside told you that wherever you were, there was a beach nearby. "You're a strong one, aren't ya, little bitch? First you put one of my best mates out of commission for who the fuck knows how long, and then you put one helluva shiner on me."

Your kidnapper approached you and grabbed the bottom of your face, nails digging into your cheeks deep enough you could feel the skin breaking. It also gave you a good enough view of who had taken you hostage.

"You're Ferguson's boy, the brat," you spat at him. "Never had to work a day in his life. Spends his time being a nuisance to womankind."

"I prefer the term gift, poppet." Your stomach lurched at the name. "You're lucky that pretty lil face o' yers is enough to make me consider delaying killing you. Craig went for the wrong 'un--"

"Craig, huh?" you cut him off. "So that's the name of the wanker with the weak ass swing. Tell me, Little Ferguson, do you surround yourself with weak little boys to make yourself seem stronger? Make you seem more like a man?"

That seemed to have struck a nerve. Typical. "I'll show you a man, you little cocktease," he snarled at you, panic flooding your system when you felt his hand on your inner thigh, thick and inelegant fingers creeping higher. "Maybe I'll ruin you before killin' you…"

You squirmed in your seat, trying to throw him off as best you could, your efforts falling short from the rope binding you to the chair. He only snickered in response, his hand traveling up higher which made you throw your head back and butt him on the face as hard as you could.

He stumbled back and landed on his bum with a faint smack, groaning as he held his nose. A fleeting relief washed over you knowing at least you got him to stop from touching you.

That relief, however, was short lived, the entitled bratty excuse for a man stomping over to a golf bag by the exit and picking up a golf club, a heavy one from how he groaned and whined as he tried to lift it above his head, like he was practicing. "You fucking bitch, I just had that fixed!" he bawled, now stomping over to you.

"Please, from where I'm sitting it's an improvement," you sneered. "Gives you some much needed character."

He pointed his club at you. "You're on borrowed time."

"Well hey, do me a favor and run the timer down already because if I have to spend one more agonizing second lookin' at your ugly mug--Agh!"

Your words finally sent his fragile ego off the edge, swinging the golf club back to strike you across your forehead and making everything go black.

The last thing you remembered was the sound of the heavy door to the warehouse being slid open. A commotion.

Gunshots.

And then a voice. Probably the most angelic voice you'd ever hear in your life.

Magnus.

When Magnus and the rest of his team arrived outside the warehouse, Kurt had to physically hold the younger detective back from storming into the place without cause.

"She's in there, Kurt!" he shouted, his desperation ramping up with each passing second.

"And if you barge in there with your badge and your gun without any probable cause the next time she'll see you will be on the other side of a glass divider during visiting hours," Wallander tried to reason with him. "We don't have Jeffrey Ferguson's permission to search the area, we need a reason before we can--"

The loud smack of metal against something followed by a woman's howl of pain sounded out from the warehouse, launching Magnus into action once more. "There's my reason."

When they threw the door open he could feel his heart drop to the ground at sight before him. You on the ground, a new massive gash on your forehead with a bump the size of a golf ball on the same spot. Marcus Ferguson with golf club in his hand, raised above his head ready to strike again. Before he could lay another hand on you, Magnus raised his weapon and shot three times, the booming sound from his gun almost felt loud enough to shake the empty warehouse.

He didn't bother watching Ferguson go down to the ground, rushing over to you instead to work on freeing you from your restraints, his stomach lurching at the sight of the rope digging in and reddening your skin. "Sweetheart," he choked, taking out a pocket knife and cutting through the thick ropes.

"Mags…?" you mumbled as he cut you out of your restraints, trying to be as gentle as he could manage with you as he eased the rope away from your skin.

"I'm here, sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe now." You instantly relaxed into his hold when he cradled you against his him, refusing to let you go until the paramedics got to you and loaded you onto the gurney. "I've got you."

You struggled to open your eyes when you felt yourself being laid down on a rather thin cushion, the sound of squeaking wheels and words that echoed your own arrest the other day filling your ears. You were wheeled into an ambulance, and you sighed in relief when your blurry vision caught sight of a head of blond curls.

"Mags," you breathed out, fingers twitching toward him. "Sorry I didn't show--" you said through slurred speech before he took your hand in both of his, pressing a kiss to your fingers.

"Shh don't you worry about that even for a second, darling," he spoke into your skin. "All I care about is that you're alive." You felt your skin get wet with hot tears as he kept kissing your hand. "I nearly lost you today."

"Still here," you mumbled, doing your best to squeeze back at his massive hand. "Not getting rid of me that easy, Martinsson."

Before you slipped back into unconsciousness, you heard him tell you, "I never want to be rid of you, my precious reckless girl. I love you so much."

The next time you opened your eyes, there was as rhythmic beeping coming from your side, your wounds had been cleaned, and Magnus was by your side. Hand wrapped around yours, slouched over on an uncomfortable chair, with his cheek resting on the mattress.

You tried to reach over, and run your hands through his curls to gently rouse him awake, but your other arm had a rather thick line in it administering what you could only guess was a pretty effective painkiller considering you weren't feeling the effects of the younger Ferguson's blows that much. You opted instead to squeeze his hand, your boyfriend letting out a tiny groan before looking up, his ocean blue eyes meeting yours and his free hand reaching up to stroke your hair.

"I'm going to need you to promise me something, sweetheart," he mumbled, trying to give you a reassuring smile despite the puffiness in his eyes.

"I'll promise you just about anything as long as you don't let them take away the painkillers."

"Promise me you'll try not to get into any fights until you have a license to carry a gun. I don't think danger will ever stop finding you, but at least I can make sure you're better equipped -- legally equipped -- to handle the next fucker that tries to harm you." He leaned over and looked at your face carefully before pressing the lightest kiss to a part of your face that wasn't cut or bruised. "Promise me, Y/N."

"I promise, Mags," you mumbled, your speech quite slurred. "What happened to Ferguson?"

"Intensive care," he answered, his jaw clenching before releasing his next sentiment. "Wish I'd gone for the head."

"No you don't," you shot back. "Too much paperwork."

He let out a hoarse laugh, his voice scratchy with the telltale sign of yelling and sobbing. "I'll make sure he spends the rest of his life behind bars for what he did to you."

"Hmph…self-proclaimed pretty boy like him surrounded by lonely men who haven't known the touch of a lover," you thought out loud, letting out a mirthless laugh before you echoed your assailant's words to you at the warehouse. "Maybe they'll ruin him before they kill him."

"Careful there," a voice spoke from the door way. Kurt. "Sounds like something he and his troop of deviants would say."

"Something he did say," you confirmed, wincing at the memory. "Right before he reached for the club."

"I'll kill him," Magnus seethed, his fury radiating off of him. "Kurt, please tell me we finally have enough to nail him. And his pathetic posse."

"We might," the older detective nodded. "But we need someone willing to testify against him--"

"I will," you volunteered, not taking another second to mull it over. "I'll testify. From how he talked I'm sure there'll be more just waiting to come outta the wood works. If what I have to say can give them the strength to want to speak up, perhaps we'll have the upper hand. No matter how much he tries to get out with Daddy's money."

Wallander gave you a singular nod. "You're a brave one, Y/N Y/L/N. Got the blood of a fighter, you do." He pointed a finger at Magnus. "You got yourself one of the good ones. Don't screw it up."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he answered back, thumb stroking gently across the back of your hand. "It better not come as a surprise to you that I'll want to take some time off. See to Y/N's recovery and all."

"I'd have twisted your arm myself if you didn't." He left the room, giving the nurse a curt nod as they passed each other.

"The doctor should be by in a little bit to check on you, Mrs. Martinsson," she informed you, giving you a warm smile.

Before you could protest from the name she'd called you, Magnus spoke up with a simple sentiment. "Thank you, Nurse." When she walked away, he looked at you with a sheepish expression in his eyes. "I might have fibbed a tiny bit so they'd let me stay in the room with you."

Your thoughts began to swirl more as the lightheadedness you felt from the painkillers mixed with how your heart swelled at his confession. "My gorgeous angel-faced golden retriever baby," you mumbled, making him give you a much wider smile. "Never took you for such a bad boy," you teased him. "What a pair we make…" You adjusted yourself in your bed, shuffling as far off to the side without disturbing the line in your arm and motioning your head to the empty space.

"What're you…?"

"Hop up, Mags," you tried to order him with a sleepy chuckle. "That's no way to sleep, and also I want my husband to hold me."

He climbed on to the bed, holding you gently as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Sleep, sweet reckless girl," he whispered, finally feeling like he could breathe easier now that he had you safe in his arms.

"Y/N Martinsson," you mumbled with a yawn, snuggling against his chest, so sleepy you didn't hear how his heart began to sprint in his chest. "I quite like the sound of that."

Magnus found it near impossible to breathe, his mind immediately bombarded with a vision of you in a myriad of white dresses, walking down the aisle to him. Exchanging vows. Becoming his wife. "Careful, sweetheart. Any more talk like that and I'll go to the jeweler's the second you're discharged." He struggled to keep his tone light, doing his best not to wake you up.

"Hmph, don't," you grumbled. "Too expensive."

"What?" he breathed out, in complete disbelief at what he was hearing. "You would marry--No. Not right now. We'll talk about this when they take you off the morphine, darling."

"No need," you murmured as you snuggled closer to him. "I'd marry you tomorrow with a ring pop and a jukebox at the hospital chapel, Magnus Martinsson."

Your breathing evened out after that, leaving your boyfriend to process what you'd said all alone. He looked at your sleeping face, shakily pressing another kiss to the top of your head. "When you've fully recovered from this nightmare that monster subjected you to today, I'll make it real," he whispered into your hair, hoping that you'd hear him through your sleep. "I quite like the sound of Y/N Martinsson, too."

A/N: *insert fanfare sound effect here* That's another request done! And these two blorbos are safe and sound in their little bubble where no one's gonna fuck with them anymore 🥹💖 Now on to the next and lemme just tell y'all now…it's angsty and it's 3 parts and we're headed back to our stabby mischievous babey 👀

But before we get there…I might have something for y'all in the next few days involving Centrum Ad Hiddles…

In the words of Scooby Doo…ruh roh…😳👀

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Magnus taglist: @vbecker10

#magnus martinsson x reader #magnus martinsson x female reader #magnus martinsson imagine #wallander fanfiction #wallander #wallander fanfic #muddyorbs writes #fic requests #500 follower celebration

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 4 months

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weird post inspired by crowley's walk but kinda sad what is this fandom doing to me

Okay, I was watching a bunch of compilations of Crowley's walk (don't look at me, you've been there) and I had a thought that I sincerely doubt was anyone else's first thought looking at them walk.

It was more specifically that scene, you probably can see it right now, when they get out of the throne-chair hip first, so absolutely fluid, and saunter off.

I wanna be like that. I want to be that light on my feet. I feel that every time I watch the recordings of plays especially musicals, looking at the theatre actors, and yep, I know David Tennant is one too. And it's not just because I've always wanted to do theatre but never have, though that is true.

(TW: uh, talk of being tired/ill, I want to put the warning just in case)

It's because I'm not very well, and I haven't been for a while. Nothing serious, I don't think, but I have very low stamina to start with, and because of medications for my mental health I'm always so tired. Even standing up or walking without waiting a whole minute can make me dizzy enough to flop right on the ground. Even when I (probably) had COVID a couple of years ago, my main symptom was intense, intense tiredness. A few months ago, I had a viral while living alone, and had to crawl my way around (hehe crawl) (this is the state of my dark humour, I am sorry).

And watching Good Omens just reminded me of everything that I want to do, looking at them dancing around rooms and racing in cars, walking through streets for ages and sitting on the arms of chairs. The show is just so filled with life, sprawling in bathtubs and driving through the English countryside, children running around and on rope swings, desperate kisses and reading in a bookshop.

And I want that so, so much.

I want to be able to spring up from chairs and be around human beings and saunter around the city. I don't want to be sleeping through more of the day than I am awake for.

Anyway, just thoughts.

But I do want to take this post to give some love to all of you, and special love to any of you who are struggling with illness. Chronic illness or otherwise, mental illness or physical illness, just any illness. Even if it is just that heavy, heavy tiredness, that we know all too well. When I studied disease, it was broken down into its roots: dis and ease, a lack of feeling at ease. And I am reminded of that one post I saw about chronic illness, and I'd like to say what I read there to you all:

"I hope the pain eases soon."

I know that life is waiting just outside this screen, but as long as I am too tired to go out to meet it, I'm so grateful to this show, to this fandom, and to all of you maggots for bringing life to me. The loneliness has eased since I've been here, and the smiles are a little more often, the tears a little less.

And I think that's really quite wonderful.

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emotionallychargedtowel · 3 months

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Why hello! I don’t see why we can’t keep the Top 5 trend alive in the new year so…

From one chronic rewatcher to another, what are your top 5 most rewatched scenes?

Sorry this took so long, @wen-kexing-apologist! I'm just now getting back to posting a bit more regularly after the holidays got me totally off track, and this question brought up a lot of Thoughts so I've been chipping away at it for weeks.

So, um, this is the best question ever. Except it’s the meanest question ever, because I'm terrible at choosing between things like this.

I am a massive rewatcher, whether you’re talking about whole series, episodes, or scenes. Scenes especially. Why watch an entire thing when you can go right for the best part/s and watch them over and over? This is also one of the reasons I have way too many gifs saved on my phone.

I thought about coming up with a list that was based more on what would make a good post, and/or what would make me look less uncool, than what I actually rewatch the most. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I wanted to be honest instead. So at the risk of seeming even more like an Utsukare obsessive and overall one-trick pony, I'm going to talk about the five scenes I think I've actually rewatched the most, even though four of them are from my perennial obsession.

The four Utsukushii Kare scenes are in the order they occur in the series, not from most rewatched to least. Then I'll talk about a fifth scene from another series that I've been pretty vocal about appreciating, and I'll mention some runners-up.

“who do you like, him or me?”

If gif posts are any indication—gifs are the smallest increment of rewatching, after all—some of my favorite scenes to rewatch aren’t that popular with other rewatchers. This one gets gif’ed, sure, as you can see. But it's not as popular a choice for this kind of treatment as a lot of other Utsukare scenes.

There are a few reasons this one is a favorite of mine. One is that I tend to like some jealousy in my romance. I have my theories about why it’s so appealing to me specifically, but I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. I also love a good aggressive shirt-grab. (Utsukare certainly delivers these regularly.) But the main reason I keep coming back to this moment is that in just a few sentences, a bunch of character development happens. Well, I guess it would be more correct to call it character revelation. This is the first time we really see this side of Kiyoi, and in that respect, it foreshadows the big perspective shift that’s just around the corner. The viewer picks up a lot of hints that Kiyoi has feelings for Hira prior to this point (even if Hira remains stubbornly oblivious to them). We’ve even seen Kiyoi kiss Hira already (even if he did push him to the ground a split second later). But this is the first time we see such direct evidence of the strength of his feelings for Hira. Kiyoi is so unguarded for this brief moment. The mask slips and what’s underneath is total desperation.

Hira, of course, misses the real meaning of what Kiyoi is saying despite how obvious it is. Which means it's also the viewers’ first indication of how intensely Hira clings to his favored view of reality in the face of evidence to the contrary.

"sorry I like you"

This is another scene where so much is happening in a short span, all because Kiyoi got desperate enough to talk about all of the unspoken bullshit between him and Hira. As usual, Hira doesn’t get it. But he might be starting to.

This scene is pretty rough watching in some ways. When this episode first aired and it ended with this scene followed by each of them on their own and feeling terrible, I was a bit of a mess. It was silly of me to worry. There were plenty of favorable signs in the preview for the finale. I knew the novels had a happy ending. But it was just so sad and so real that it got to me anyway. But I also enjoyed it, because for an obsessive analyzer like myself, seeing these important relationship dynamics finally come to the surface in such concentrated form was fascinating. It was also a relief to see things out in the open.

Both leads turn in such great performances here. Yagi Yusei really steps up. It’s even more impressive given his relative lack of acting experience. His performance is so raw and affecting. If he had been less vulnerable, Kiyoi’s point about how contradictory Hira’s actions and statements are could seem like a kind of “gotcha” moment designed to win an argument--like he was pointing out that Hira was hypocritical in a bid to score points. Instead, Yagi shows viewers how deeply being caught in this double bind with Hira has hurt Kiyoi.

Hagiwara Riku, in contrast, portrays Hira as so confused that he’s basically dissociated. Hira has a really strong tendency to see the world in whatever way suits him, regardless of the truth. Kiyoi’s words force Hira to set his usual narrative aside and see how much clinging to it is hurting the person he claims to love, and it throws him off to such an extent that he seems to be experiencing a form of psychomotor slowing. He looks like he’s moving through molasses. He can’t form sentences, or at times, even words. His normally expressive eyes seem like they’ve shrunk to half their normal size. He’s really come unmoored, and it shows. The more I think about Hagiwara’s work in this scene the more impressed I am by the insight and physical control he had to bring to bear in order for it to work.

Of course, if I watched this scene on its own habitually, this level of blorbo distress might take a toll on my mental health. Which is why I usually follow it up with…

"I'm not going to kiss you for a while"

I’m busting out the bullet points for this one because otherwise it might take me all day.

This scene works on so many levels!

Well, the main ones are:

Relationship progress! Character growth!

The whole kiss fakeout thing is hot

Hira gets some payback and frankly, he deserves it

The other highlights for me are:

Even after repeated viewings and knowing very well what happened in the story, I still feel kind of relieved to see that Kiyoi came back, especially right after rewatching the scene prior to this one.

When Kiyoi asks Hira why he thinks he came home and he says, “to punch me?" he does it in the most weirdly cute way.

Kiyoi’s absolutely lethal snotty face/voice when he response to the possibility of punching Hira with “maybe” is so perfect that it's hard not to think that Hira might have a point about this whole King deal.

Hira apologizes and it’s actually sincere and not just some knee-jerk bullshit.

The way Hira closes his eyes and waits for Kiyoi to smack him is a rare case of him actually letting go and putting himself in Kiyoi’s hands instead of his usual topping-from-the-bottom thing.

More about the kiss fakeout:

Hagiwara does a great job of telegraphing Hira’s expectant response. In scenes where two characters are going to kiss but get interrupted, it's not uncommon to see a kind of hesitation or other subtle signal that the actor knows the kiss isn't going to happen. But there's none of that here. Hagiwara even does this sort of gulp/swallow thing like he thinks the kiss is going to start any moment. When the kiss doesn't materialize, he nails an absolutely pitifiul sad puppy expression.

Kiyoi’s vulnerable voice and facial expression when he explains about the kissing boundary thing is so sincere and cute. Could he be any more different from season 1 episode 1 Kiyoi?

I’ve written about how the no-kissing-until-Hira-takes-Kiyoi-seriously policy might seem like a controlling move or an inappropriate ultimatum to some viewers but it actually better resembles what Harriet Lerner calls a “bottom line,” resulting in a boundary that is not only justifiable but downright healthy…or almost healthy, at least. It's a bit on the extreme side, and the fakeout part remains a little mean. But they're understandable given what Hira has put Kiyoi through.

Here's my s2e4 writeup that includes that discussion:

“sorry, Kiyoi”

So, I’ve already written quite a bit about this scene. In one instance, I wrote a propaganda blurb when it was in bl brackets’s kiss bracket.

Here's the original blurb I wrote for @bl-bracket when I nominated the scene, as used in the post where people voted:

Hira and Kiyoi Final Kiss: "It’s an important plot point (because Kiyoi has said he won’t kiss Hira until he stops putting him on a pedestal and now Hira is making progress on that front, and because Hira hasn’t initiated physical stuff in the past, and initiating is itself a way of treating Kiyoi more like an equal). It’s also just a really well-acted and effectively shot kiss, and as a result it communicates so much about the characters and shows a side of their relationship not portrayed elsewhere in the show. And of course, it’s super hot. That includes the kind of weird but suggestive details that are typical of the show, like Hira passing candy/candy spit to Kiyoi through the kiss and then switching into this really distinct sexy voice that makes it sound almost as if he’s changing personalities."

And here's an additional, longer propaganda post I wrote to lobby for votes:

One of the points I tried to make in that post about why this scene is special was that it really does represent a leap forward in how both leads portrayed intimacy in this series. Prior to this scene, viewers had seen a dead fish kiss on graduation day, a more intense makeout situation in the season 1 finale that was shot so impressionistically that it was often hard to tell exactly what the actors were doing, and some interrupted kisses earlier in season 2. And then this happened. Here's a quote from what I wrote previously:

Personally, despite being a fan of both actors and thinking they did amazing work on the series, until I saw this scene I really didn't know if they had it in them, if they could actually pull off something that felt real. But they brought it. They're not holding back. As opposed to more stylized kisses you see in BLs and other romance dramas sometimes, I found it very naturalistic, like the way a couple of real kids in their early 20s would kiss.

So, yeah. I thought it showed real growth on the part of the actors as individuals and as a pairing/team.

This scene also caused me to dig deeper, with the help of some very knowledgeable mutuals, into what “persistent” and “cute” mean in a sexual context in Japan. My main post about that is below.

Noticing Hagiwara's use of Hira's "persistent voice" also helped me to notice something else when I checked out his other work, and that is that he often uses his voice in very different ways in different roles. I recently watched a drama he did before Utsukare and I was struck by this all over again. Again, it shows a really impressive degree of control.

And now, for our one non-Utsukare scene in the top 5:

"I'm trying to seduce you"

I also wrote a nomination blurb about this scene for the kiss bracket. (If you're seeing a pattern here, well, yeah, it's a pattern.) The original voting post here but I'll go ahead and quote it in its entirety since it's pretty short.

This kiss is ridiculously hot and is a culmination of so much that’s been simmering beneath the surface for the entire show up to that point. Togawa has been pining so hard for Nozue for so long that when Nozue gives him a glimmer of hope and then tries to leave, everything he’s been bottling up comes surging out. Kimura Tatsunari exudes a level of desperate lustfulness in this scene that’s as intense as anything I’ve seen in any genre. We’re all familiar with the idea that people look at a person’s mouth when they want to kiss them, but Togawa looks at Nozue’s mouth like he dreams about it every night and sees it every time he closes his eyes. No wonder he feels a need to stick his thumb in there. Takeda Kouhei also communicates so much in this scene. Nozue is shocked and confused but he can’t help but respond to Togawa’s kisses. You can see the gears turning—and refusing to turn—as he tries to make sense of what’s happening—and keeps kissing Togawa back even though he still can’t process it. Togawa’s declaration, “I’ve been trying to seduce you, with everything I have,” is the cherry on top.

There's another bit of subtle physical communication here that I find interesting, and I think you might too, @wen-kexing-apologist. Just recently I've been thinking about the meaning, in kissing scenes, of what for lack of a better term I'll call the head-bonk. By this I mean the thing where one person puts their forehead against the other person's, often with at least a tiny bit of an impact that renders it a bonk rather than, like, just touching them together. Togawa kisses Nozue once, then a second time, and then goes in for a third that Nozue avoids by sinking toward the floor. The third kiss doesn't happen, but when Togawa starts to initiate it he does an absolutely sublime head-bonk. I'm still figuring out what I think about the head-bonk thing. All I know is that, from my vantage point, that little move on Kimura's part practically screams "I've been holding this back for five goddamn years and I can't wait one more second to kiss this person."

Runners-up and honorable mentions:

Semantic Error:

Their first kiss in the restaurant after Jae Young calls Sang Woo "hyung" - I have watched this so much that if I had been asked for my top 6 this would have been #6.

Jae Young demonstrating the features of the "free trial"

Minato’s Laundromat (season 1, of course):

Shin freaking out about Minato being alone with Hanabusa

The washing machine kabedon

The “smelling the sheets” scene

Kiseki (I just watched this for the first time a week or so ago and I have already done so much scene-rewatching it's ridiculous):

That incredibly angsty sex scene with Ai Di and a drunk Chen Yi, you know the one

Chen Yi's confession to a physically restrained Ai Di

The scene at Ai Di's bar where Chen Yi puts him in a double kabedon

Ai Di and Chen Yi's conversation after Ai Di gets out of prison, where he says he fucked Chen Yi "just for fun" and offers to let him do stuff to him as "revenge"

Ai Di trying to scare Chen Yi by stroking his chest and asking him if he wants to "play" and then getting weirded out when Chen Yi asks, "What if I say yes?"

Jheruei and Zongyi's first real kiss and subsequent A+ lap-sitting moment

And as a bonus, here's my most-rewatched non-QL moment:

There's a scene I'm obsessed with in Something in the Rain where Jun Hui comes to Jin A's home and sees her ex-boyfriend there with her and her parents, lobbying to get back together and manhandling her, and he reacts exactly the way you'd expect as someone to who's in love with Jin A. It is tattooed on my brain. If I ever learn to make gifs I am gif'ing the fuck out of that scene.

#obsessive rewatching #utsukushii kare #utsukushii kare meta #old fashion cupcake #hagiwara riku #yagi yusei #kimura tatsunari #takeda kouhei #BL asks meme #semantic error #kiseki: dear to me #minato's laundromat #something in the rain

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darlingpoppet · 4 months

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Fave Fics of 2023!

A list of some of my favorite fics I read in 2023, though note not all of them are from this year. I feel like I didn’t get to do as much reading as I would’ve liked but I guess at least I was still able to put together a decent list! This isn’t a ranking, I listed everything in alphabetical order.

a bit of earth by @elemmacil (patrochilles)

Character study of Hadesgame Achilles & his time in the house of hades, pre-canon. Also, Zagreus takes care of a plant & it’s so wholesome. Lovely, atmospheric, and fueled by vibes, I adore the secret garden inspiration which slots into the hadesgame-verse sooo perfectly. This is great for the sad girlies like me who recently re-watched the movie from the 90s and thought “what if the whole movie was just us watching lord craven being a sad, pining dilf the whole time?” *clicks tongue* noice.

A Reasonable Explanation by stygius (pza)

I already read On The Ropes by red_smear last year so it doesn’t get to be on this list but I did go into 2023 continuing to seek out some of the “old classics” for this ship (yanno how reading fics that were published before joining the fandom sometimes feels like consuming media that existed before you were born? lol) this one is fun for the subversion on the “relaying messages” trope and taking god worshipping to literal (sexyy) extremes… I think if you wanted a good pza introductory fic this would be a good place to start!

Debased by youcouldbeagod (patrochilles)

Found this on a whim one day while clicking through the tags, as it is pretty much the only dedicated Troilus & Cressida Patrochilles fic on AO3 and it is ＢＲＩＬＬＩＡＮＴ！ The story is simply that Thersites stumbles upon Achilles & Patroclus having sex in their tent and he provides his usual witty and scathing commentary throughout. It truly reads like Shakespeare in prose form, I could easily imagine it being staged, it’s like a deleted scene from the play! The ending is also pitch perfect and still lives in my head rent-free. If you’re familiar with Shakespeare’s version of the characters definitely give it a read.

isn’t it romantic by infinitesle (dillydallybutterfly) (pza)

I was going to recommend a patrochilles fic by infinitesle that I love which is you are the currents that are pulling me onward but I’m pretty sure I read it in 2022 so it doesn’t count, sadge. So instead I’ll recommend another lovely morsel, a pza fic set in the jazz age au that a bunch of us in the pza channel of the hades lounge discord collectively came up with. Idk this might be a “you had to be there” kind of story but I think it still paints a pretty picture and if it inspires anyone else to contribute to the AU I wouldn’t complain. I’ll make my own proper contribution eventually, mark my words!

not the desperate type by @baejax-the-great (patrochilles, side hector/patroclus)

Baejax is well-known for their long fics which are all bangers ofc but personally my favorite piece of theirs this year was actually this oneshot in which Patroclus is engaged to Hector and then cheats on him with his ex, Achilles. They get caught in the act and the results are… predictable, lol. I love that it hews close to the tone of the Iliad where it’s no good/bad guys, just flawed humans making flawed choices and the AITA version of this story would totally be given an Everyone Sucks Here verdict, I’m sure. I’m STILL thinking about the ending even months & months later. Oh and of course, the sex is chef’s kiss!

One Night Of Chaos by Luddleston (pza)

This was technically a Dec 2022 read but I’m making an exception for it because I feel like it’s the flavor of pza I had been craving all along when I was reading through some of the older classics for this ship and it was key in helping fuel the inspiration for my own pza fics this year. There’s just something about Zag being invited into Patrochilles’ little world to watch their charming rapport with one another & being disgustingly in love that’s PEAK CONTENT for me and I loved this spin where he gets to meet them while they’re still alive, pre-heartbreak. Basically everything about it is my personal ur-pza text so if you’ve liked any of my own pza I’m sure you would like this one too. The sequel is also fun and was properly a 2023 read for me so I’ll mention it too haha.

Presentation by @sonderlivra (eruri)

Judging by the time stamp of my comment, I started my 2023 off right by reading this fic by one of my all-time favorite eruri authors! This is an omegaverse fic with a twist, it is well-written, hilarious, and had me guessing up until the very end. I would literally recommend anything this author writes (including the asscreed fics she & other beloved friend @zorthania have been writing this year… I don’t go here but these are my blorbo in-laws and I care them uwu)

sacramentum by fresco_k (eruri)

I didn’t take the time to read many other eruri fics this year unfortunately but I did get to beta some fics for this year’s eruri matchmaking event and this was one of them: a gladiator AU set in Ancient Rome and it was so serendipitous that I got to help with something so close to my current hyperfixation! The premise is very intriguing and it’s off to a lovely start… not to mention the author is a sweetie who knows & has a lot of passion for the time period… so check it out!

the slow mending by meikuree (pikuhan)

I finally got to dip my toes into some pikuhan fics this year and luckily my first one was a real banger! This was such a lovely little canon-compliant Hanji character study along with an exploration of their relationship with Pieck representing the two sides coming together and it was so beautifully written. It feels like the perfect introductory fic for the ship just in general because it really highlights everything that’s attractive about it! Love it!

tight fit by naxtique (zagchilles)

naxtique’s fics pretty much all scratch that itch for hadesgame dead dove of the dub/non-con variety, oftentimes laced with angst. Their particular flavor of Zagchilles with slave-to-his-passion, guilt-stricken Achilles is so compelling it always makes me stare at the wall thinking about it. And this is my favorite one, in which Achilles gets sex-pollen’d and ends up in a compromising position with Zagreus. Another one where the ending haunts my dreams (in a good way). Not for everyone obviously but if this sort of thing is up your alley, it’s great.

you’re a walking disaster, and yet— by @johaerys-writes (patrochilles)

Another patrochilles GOAT well-known for their serial longfics, and this year I’ve been enjoying their modern AU Patrochilles where the two of them grow up together in rural Greece. This one has probably my favorite ever synthesis of takes on Achilles’ character I’ve read so far—brilliant, autistic, and gender fluid. It’s definitely an extreme slow burn and gets pretty angsty & messy at times but it’s also devastatingly realistic & relatable and speaks to me a whole lot :> currently ongoing, definitely worth diving into!

#fic recs #patrochilles #pza #eruri #pikuhan #zagchilles #the only thing missing from this list is a dedicated patzag fic #gotta rectify that

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depressed-fanperson · 8 months

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Ok so here is my theories for Good Omens season 3

☑️More Angel Crowley flashbacks (possibly his status/name as an angel unveiled[and here are my theories on that])

☑️ “Love of My Life” by Queen as Crowley proceeds to, as Castiel put it, “I found a liquor shop. I drank it.”

☑️ Aziraphale fumbling around kinda in heaven. Like he’s just kinda really awkward up there and doesn’t really know how to do things or he just changes things to have like a couch or something idk

☑️ Muriel in the bookshop (not really a theory so much as a hope) Also Muriel finally changes her clothes (I will cry if she’s still in that all white uniform even I have limits)

☑️ Crowley going to Nina and saying “Give me Death”

☑️ The Bentley acting sad/this AMAZING post

☑️ Another kiss? Maybe? Hopefully?

☑️ a happy ending

☑️ 1941 (and possibly even more apology dances) Edit: ok so I saw this post that made me realize that 1941 was the Nazi scene and that’s probably why Aziraphale did the apology dance after the whole zombie thing but I still believe that Aziraphale is gonna do an apology dance in season 3 I feel it in my rib cage

☑️ ARCHANGEL AZIRAPHALE WITH BEARD???

☑️ this post by @ineffable-cliffhangers

☑️ I really wanna know what Neil Gaiman was talking about in this post

☑️ I am desperately hoping for this post by @feathered-serpents to happen

☑️ scenes with Aziraphale in Heaven that make you cringe with second hand embarrassment(not in a negative way more in a ‘you’re amazing and I treasure you but please don’t do that’ way)

☑️ ok but you know how Aziraphale does a super accurate drawing of Gabriel? What if he does a bunch of drawings of Crowley in heaven because he misses him so much

☑️ In season 1 we see a lot of Earth (obviously) and In season 2 we see plenty of Hell, but only a sneak peak of Heaven, so we’re definitely going to see more of Heaven, especially with Aziraphale being supreme Archangel there’s finally a reason to.

☑️what happened in Edinburgh when Crowley went to Hell?

☑️Aziraphale claims to have fooled Nefertiti, and mentions several times all the magic classes he’s been to, so maybe more history of Aziraphale and magic?

☑️ Aziraphale actually TELLING or Crowley somehow finding out that Aziraphale loves his eyes.

☑️14th Century???

☑Another reference to that 'lovely Chinese fellow' who ended up 6 feet under. I feel it in my bones.

☑️In the Shakespeare scene Crowley mentions that they’ve done the Arrangement “dozens of times before.”, so probably something in between then.

☑️God is gonna come back for narration God will come back I know she will because in s2 they were figuratively leaving the Garden and now that Azi is going back (😢) we will see more of her.

☑️CROWLEY STOPPING HIMSELF FROM CALLING AZI ANGEL

☑️Roof top scene, I swear to god there better be a roof top scene

☑️The big plane, with Jesus, and the security agents/angels; the 2nd coming. This is basically confirmed lol but I have a strong feeling that one of the Christian Big 3 will be there. (God, Jesus, Satan)

☑️In the scene where they're talking about guns and Aziraphale said that they "lends weight to a moral argument; I think.", and then Crowley snickers. He's laughing when Aziraphale says 'moral argument' and mutters it under his breath and starts walking away and Aziraphale is slightly annoyed/embarrassed and I'm sry I've started reading into everything I feel like it might have some sort of connection.

I’m going to save this and maybe add to it as time goes on then come back and fill in any checks that were right. If I’m basing any of these theories on incorrect facts or you’re confused on some of them please tell me and I’d be happy to make the corrections and further explain:).

#imma fucking die #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens season two #good omens 3 #neil gaiman #good omens headcannon #season 3 theories

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icarusignite · 7 months

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Hey! I don't know if this is the proper format (still kind of new here) but I'm sending in this prompt for an Alfred × Reader fic. There's this idea for him that was stuck in my head a couple months ago. So…

It's set either S2 or S3 but it fits better in S3 or the break between 2 and 3. Alfred is really ill which isn't unusual for him, but this time he's taking a lot longer for him to heal and he's deteriorating more seriously than he normally would.

People in court start looking around for new healers and remedies. Alfred is also kind of desperate because he doesn't want to die before England is complete or Edward is ready to take over.

Reader, who is a healer, comes to court with the intention of helping Alfred. She's neither Dane nor Saxon, if you're comfortable with it she could be of Asian or African origin/descent (eg Father Benedict in S5). She's either Muslim or Christian, either way she's well read and a bit of a scholar (if you've seen Vikings: Valhalla S2, there's a female character that might ring a bell). She's also able to reassure him, like Iseult, that she's treating him with nature's bounty and nothing sinister.

Because she's a scholar (also maybe a Christian), Alfred is comfortable that she's not practicing witchcraft so this helps him accept her more easily. It also helps them bond and they become really close friends over the course of the months she spends treating him. They have fun banter and he's able to feel like Alfred, the man around her instead of King Alfred. Then he realizes that he has feelings for her.

At this point it could go any way really. Does Aelswith factor into it much or not? Does reader reciprocate his feelings or not? If she does, would she be comfortable giving into them and being a mistress? Is Aelswith even in the picture or is this a slight AU? Do they have a sad, happy or bittersweet ending? Idk

For extra spice, Reader could also be good friends with Uhtred or Finan which makes Alfred a little jealous but also sad because he thinks that she'd probably prefer the charming, handsome, potentially single, strapping man to whatever measly affection he could offer her.

Ideally, it would be fluff or smut but whatever you're comfortable writing is fine! Sorry if this is too long but I wanted to be as clear as possible 😅. I also understand if this is too much for a oneshot and you forego the idea entirely

Alfred the great x POC! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Heyy, so sorry this took literally eons to finally write. Thank you for your lovely request and also thank u for your patience <3 Hope you enjoy what I've done with your idea, and dw this will have another part where I'll explore their chemistry more. I watched a bunch of Alfred edits to get in the mood and ngl I'm lowkey in love with him now lmfao.

Disclaimer: there might be some (a lot) historical discrepancies because I didn't line up the dates exactly but I did find out that the Golden Age of Islam overlapped significantly with the dates that the last kingdom spans so the reader is a prominent scholar from Baghdad. Also, Aelswith is dead (I'm sorry T_T) cuz I don't love a cheating trope even when it is sort of historically accurate. So we have single dad Alfred lol.

The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

Entering King Alfred's throne room, your senses were immediately awakened by the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and scents of Wessex. The room itself was a stark contrast to the opulent palaces and grand courts of Baghdad that you were accustomed to. The room was spacious, yet its decoration was surprisingly humble and simple, adorned with rough-hewn wooden beams and modest tapestries that depicted various scenes of English myths and prominent events. With a flash of triumph, you found that you recognized some of them from your studies of the English culture. A faint scent of burning wood from the hearth permeated the air with an earthy aroma.

You observed the nobles in attendance, or the ealdormen as they were called here, their attire markedly different from the splendid silks and jewels of Baghdad's court. Here, the people wore simpler garments made of sturdy wool and linen, in the dark colours of the earth as opposed to the the vibrant clothing the people of your home favoured.

Your gaze then turned to the throne itself. It was a robust wooden chair, its design austere yet imposing, lacking the grandeur of the magnificent thrones you had imagined English kings liked to occupy. King Alfred's regal figure atop the throne created a dignified presence. His clothing, matched the style of his ealdormen, long simple robes of a dull grey. The seat next to him was empty and you briefly wondered about his family. The chronicles you had read stated that a king's wife usually took her place beside him when he held court, but you did not know much of Alfred's wife.

Your fingers itched for your writing instruments, yearning to document all your observations and the happenings of the court. You seldom went anywhere without them, but now they remained tucked away in your satchel as you waited for the king to acknowledge your presence. You knew he had seen you enter, his eyes briefly meeting yours, even as he conversed with his ealdormen. Eventually, your thoughts began to wander and you couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between the scorching heat of Baghdad and the chilly bite of autumn in Wessex. your flowing linen tunic and trousers, so comfortable in the sweltering desert of your homeland, felt inadequate against the cold English air that seeped through the cracks in the stone walls.

You discreetly rubbed your tingling fingertips together, trying to generate some warmth, as the fire blazing at the hearth did little to banish the chill that had settled in your bones. Your longing for the warmth of the caliphate's sun was keenly felt in this unfamiliar and frigid environment.

Impatience welled up within you as you glanced around the chamber, noting the courtiers' stoic expressions and hushed conversations. The king's deliberations seemed to stretch on endlessly, and you found yourself yearning for the moment when you could finally present your credentials and seek the audience you had travelled so far to obtain.

King Alfred's voice finally called out your name, his voice echoing through the chamber.

"Esteemed lady, I welcome you to the court of Wessex."

The ealdormen, accustomed to the formalities of their court, were taken aback when you did not bow or curtsy as was expected. Instead, you offered a polite smile and tipped your head in a gesture of respect.

A murmur of surprise and disapproval rippled through the assembled courtiers. Some whispered that your behaviour was disrespectful, a breach of protocol. They exchanged curious glances, wondering how their king would react to this departure from tradition.

However, King Alfred took no offence. With a gracious nod, he signalled for you to speak.

"Thank you, your grace. It is an honour to be here."

Your accent was soft, lending your words a foreign intonation, and each syllable was carefully enunciated. You had spent months learning the language, and you weren't about to embarrass yourself now by messing up your pronunciation.

"I extend my deepest gratitude to you for undertaking such a long and arduous journey at my request. I hope the discomfort of the voyage did not prove too taxing."

"Your Majesty," you replied, "it was a journey of great honour for me, and I hope to make myself useful here."

King Alfred nodded appreciatively and then turned to a servant standing nearby.

"Please, ensure that the lady is provided with comfortable quarters and all the amenities she may require during your stay in Wessex."

The servant bowed in acknowledgment and stepped forward to escort you to your residence within the royal palace. You thanked the king once more for his hospitality and assistance before following the servant out of the chamber.

As you left the throne room, your observant nature couldn't help but take note of King Alfred's condition. Despite his attempt to appear at ease in his chair, you had perceived the subtle signs of discomfort. His favouring of his left side, indicating pain or injury to his right, and the unusually pallid complexion for an Englishman raised concerns in your scholarly mind. That was your purpose, after all, to try to diagnose and hopefully cure the ailing monarch.

Just when you were gone, the noblemen of King Alfred's court wasted no time in flocking around him, their curiosity piqued by the arrival of the enigmatic woman. They bombarded the king with questions and voiced their concerns about the unfamiliar customs you had displayed.

One nobleman, his voice dripping with skepticism, remarked, "Your Majesty, did you see that? She didn't bow or curtsy as she should have! It's as if she has no respect for you."

Another, eyeing your unusual attire and complexion, chimed in, "And her clothing, Your Grace! It's unlike anything I've ever seen in Wessex. She's clearly not from anywhere near England. What could she possibly want here?"

The murmurs of disapproval and suspicion spread among the courtiers, as they exchanged perplexed glances. To them, your arrival was an anomaly, and your behaviour had raised eyebrows and questions.

King Alfred, his countenance calm and measured, raised a hand to quell the growing unease.

"I understand your concerns, but there is nothing to worry about" he began, addressing their concerns. "The lady you have just met is a prominent figure from Baghdad. She has travelled from a distant land to be here and she is not here to defy our traditions or customs. She is a scholar seeking to further her studies in Wessex. Her journey to our land is a great honour, as it reflects the recognition of the importance of our own intellectual pursuits."

His tone left no room for further skepticism. He also did not mention the other reason you were there, as he did not wish to reveal the truth of his declining health. As the nobles filtered out of the room, somewhat still unsatisfied by his answer, Alfred couldn't help but remain still, his mind going over the recent developments. When he had first written to the Abbasid Caliphate to request that he be allowed to host a medical scholar at his court, he had to admit he was not expecting a woman, and certainly not one so beautiful.

The next day, Alfred summoned you to his private chambers for a consultation regarding his health. As you entered the room, he couldn't help but notice the change in your attire. Gone was the flowing linen tunic and trousers, replaced by a sturdier, more practical woollen English dress. The deep blue gauzy veil, however, was still draped around your head and flowed down your back.

The English clothing seemed to complement you, accentuating your elegance in a way that was both unexpected and captivating. The king, not for the first time, found himself admiring you, though he kept such thoughts to himself, mindful of the formal context of your meeting.

You, ever the professional scholar, maintained a polite and formal distance as you began your examination of the king. You inquired about his symptoms, listening attentively to his description of the pain and discomfort he had been experiencing. Your deep knowledge and keen medical insight were evident as you asked probing questions and conducted a thorough assessment.

After a careful evaluation, you began to discuss your observations and your initial diagnosis with the king. You explained your thoughts on the potential causes of his discomfort and suggested a course of treatment. King Alfred was grateful for your expertise, and couldn't help but be struck by your intellect. He had a thirst for knowledge himself and he appreciated the quality in others when he saw it. In you he recognized a passion for learning and documentation, one he held himself as well. After the medical examination, he extended an invitation to you to remain in his chambers and share a cup of tea. Initially hesitant, you eventually agreed, recognizing the value of the opportunity to engage in conversation with the English monarch.

Seated in the warmth of the chamber, Alfred began to share with you the rich history of England, its struggles, its triumphs, and its cultural tapestry. He spoke of the challenges of the Anglo-Saxon period, the battles against the Danes, and the enduring spirit of the English people. As he narrated the history of his land, Alfred couldn't help but notice how your eyes lit up with a deep fascination, even though you attempted to contain your enthusiasm. Your questions flowed naturally as you probed deeper into the history and culture of Wessex. You asked about the Anglo-Saxon kings, the legends and folklore, and the development of the English language.

You kept diligent notes in your little notebook, your hand swiftly capturing every detail of the conversation. Your keen intellect and insatiable thirst for knowledge were evident, and your genuine interest in Alfred's words warmed his heart. It had been quite a while since anyone had paid such rapt attention to what he was saying, and he found himself rejuvenated by your exchange.

As a lull settled over your conversation, Alfred's curiosity got the better of him. With a twinkle in his eye, he leaned forward and said, "My lady, I must admit, I'm quite curious about the contents of that notebook of yours. What sort of information have you been documenting to take back to your homeland?"

You smiled, your demeanour more relaxed than when you had first come in, "Your Majesty, you need not worry. I promise you, I haven't written that the English are fire-breathing trolls."

Alfred felt a grin tug at his lips, but he suppressed the urge, keeping his hands folded placidly over his stomach.

"Well, you know, if we English could breathe fire, we might have an easier time dealing with our enemies!"

"There is a trick that performers back home use, to give the illusion of breathing fire. The science behind it is quite fascinating. Perhaps I shall explain it to you sometime."

"Ah yes my lady, you have filled your book with our tales, but have yet to share yours. Do you have any secrets from the East that you'd like to share with us humble English folk?"

You couldn't help but smirk at his words, "I'm afraid some secrets are best left in the lands where they belong, your grace. We wouldn't want you to start brewing Persian tea incorrectly, now would we?"

"I doubt it can compete with our tried and trusted English tea."

"You only think that way because you haven't tried Persian tea yet. Trust me, once you have, there's no going back."

"I suppose you make a fair point! Although, I must admit, the thought of trying to decipher the intricacies of Arabic calligraphy is rather tempting."

You paused, your light-hearted nature urging you to make another joke but you strictly reminded yourself that you were in the presence of a king. It would do you no good to offend him with an ill-timed statement. You were already apprehensive about your earlier comment about the Persian tea, although you were grateful that he chose not to see it as a slight. As if sensing your hesitation, Alfred sat up in bed and leaned forward.

"You are free to speak my lady, do not hold yourself back on my account," he reassured with a wave of his hand.

Still, you settled for a polite smile, "I was just going to remark on the difficulty of calligraphy but I am certain that if anyone would be able to master it, it'd be you, Your Majesty."

A small furrow appeared between Alfred's brows as if that wasn't the answer he expected from you. He could see you pulling away, going back to your polite, almost cold professionalism. Eventually, he nodded thoughtfully at you.

"I would be ever so grateful if you could perhaps show me the technique someday, my lady."

You breathed a sigh of relief and nodded with a small smile.

"Now, about that notebook, if you would allow me to take a look?"

"Ah yes, of course," you handed over the small leatherbound journal to him quickly without further complaints. "But I must warn you, my handwriting isn't at its most legible."

Alfred accepted the notebook with a nod of appreciation. As he leafed through its pages, his eyes quickly fell upon your meticulously written notes. Your thoughts were inscribed in your native language and although he did not understand the words, your elegant looping script impressed him.

He raised an eyebrow and turned toward you expectantly, pointing toward a specific passage, "And what does this say right here?"

"It is a description of the English weather, your grace."

Alfred leaned closer, his finger tracing the inked lines on the page.

"Ah yes, English weather. It was raining when you first arrived, wasn't it? What do you think of our English rain then, my lady? I've heard it has a certain charm."

"Well, I believe your rain can be quite persuasive. It insists that one should stay indoors and read a good book."

Alfred's lips twitched again, fighting back a smile. It seemed that the new scholar shared his interests as well.

"A wise perspective, indeed. Perhaps our English rain is simply encouraging a literary lifestyle."

"Yes, your grace."

"My lady" he continued, a note of genuine admiration in his voice, "I must tell you, your handwriting is truly exquisite. Tell me, just how many languages have you learned."

You felt a blush creep into your cheeks at his compliment. There was something sincere in his eyes as he waited for your answer, looking at you like your accomplishments were the greatest thing in the world. You opened your mouth to respond but then a loud knock sounded on the door and a priest entered.

"Yes, Father Beocca," Alfred seemed irritated at the interruption.

Father Beocca's eyes glanced from you to the king, and despite the fact that you were sitting in a chair quite some distance away from him, you felt a strange flash of awkward embarrassment run through you.

"My king, Uhtred is here to see you," the priest finally stated.

Alfred sighed and turned toward you with an apologetic smile, "Shall we continue our conversation another time then, my lady? It seems that I am needed elsewhere."

"Yes, of course, your grace."

You quickly took your leave then, choosing to take one of your books and go read in the garden. You had just settled yourself into a comfortable nook when loud boisterous laughter caught your attention. Turning your gaze towards the source of the commotion, you spotted three men, two of whom were dressed in the attire of warriors. Their boisterous behaviour was evident as they playfully teased and shoved the third man, who was clad in robes that resembled those of Father Beocca. However, a leather breastplate adorned his monk's attire, hinting at a surprising duality of roles – priest and fighter.

The two warriors were engaged in a lively exchange with the monk, their laughter echoing through the garden. You couldn't help but smile as you watched the scene unfold. Their camaraderie and jesting reminded you of the Caliph's sons back home, when your father would take you to visit the palace.

One of the warriors, a bearded man with broad shoulders and a hearty laugh, clapped the monk on the back.

"Come now, Osferth," he said between chuckles, "surely your devotion to the Lord could use a bit of levity now and then."

The monk, Osferth, grinned in response, "Aye Finan, it is said that laughter is the best medicine, is it not?"

The other warrior, a lean and quick-witted fellow, joined in with a jest, "Well, if that's the case, Osferth, then Finan here will live to be a hundred and you shall die tomorrow!"

Osferth elbowed the tall man in the ribs, "Not before I knock some sense into you Sihtric."

Their jovial banter and good-natured teasing continued, creating a lively atmosphere in the serene garden. You couldn't help but be amused by their antics and the familiarity of their interactions, watching them for quite some time.

The trio of men eventually noticed your presence, and with their laughter dying down, they made their way over to you. As they approached, their expressions revealed a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

The broad-shouldered warrior, Finan, whose eyes twinkled with mischief, was the first to speak. "Well, what have we here?" he said with a grin. "A traveller from foreign shores, I presume?"

"Yes, I am from Baghdad, my lord."

The warrior, clearly taken with you, couldn't resist a flirtatious remark.

"Lady, I must say, you are a wondrous addition to our English garden."

You snorted at his attempt at flirtation.

Meanwhile, the monk with the leather breastplate maintained a more respectful demeanour.

"Greetings, lady, I am Osferth," he said with a nod. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I ask what brings you to our humble Wessex?"

You found the monk's polite curiosity quite refreshing.

"Greetings to you too, Osferth. I've come to further my studies here. Wessex has much to offer in terms of knowledge and history, and I hope to make the most of it."

"Well, my lady, if ever you wish to explore our English shores, I'd be delighted to be your guide," it was Finan who spoke again and you could not help but laugh at his words.

"Thank you, kind sir. Your offer is most gracious."

“Call me Finan, my lady.”

Your change continued as they asked more about you and your hometown and you asked about theirs. You found out that they were a band of warriors who followed some fellow named Uhtred, the very same Uhtred who was currently speaking to King Alfred. As the conversation flowed, you discovered that you enjoyed speaking with these men. Their witty banter and friendly demeanour made you feel at ease, despite the foreignness of your surroundings. You shared stories of your travels, your scholarly pursuits, and the cultural nuances of your homeland. The men, in turn, regaled you with tales of their own adventures.

As you continued to engage in playful banter with the warriors, you remained oblivious to the presence of King Alfred and Uhtred, who had ventured outside and were observing the lively exchange.

Eventually, with a confident stride, Uhtred made his way toward your group to make his introduction and Father Beocca approached the king with his concerns.

"Your Majesty," he began cautiously, "I must admit, I have reservations about entrusting your treatment to a foreigner, especially one from so distant a land. We must be cautious of witchcraft and unfamiliar practices."

King Alfred turned to Father Beocca, his expression thoughtful but resolute, "Father Beocca, I understand your concerns, but the lady is no ordinary foreigner. She hails from Baghdad, a city known for its innovative medical advancements and a center of learning in the Islamic world. She comes as one of their finest scholars, sent by the Caliph himself."

"I see, your grace."

"I have read extensively about the great Islamic civilization, and its contributions to science, medicine, and philosophy. I believe we have much to learn from her, not only about medicine but also about fostering understanding and collaboration between our cultures. They have succeeded in uniting several lands under one caliphate, so perhaps we might learn how we may unite England as well."

Father Beocca, though still cautious, nodded in understanding, "Your Majesty, I trust your judgment. It is my fervent hope that the lady's presence here will indeed lead to beneficial knowledge and that she will uphold the values of wisdom and compassion."

"Thank you, Father Beocca. Let us have faith in this unique opportunity for cultural exchange and enlightenment. Her presence is a bridge between worlds, and I believe it is a path toward a brighter future for Wessex."

Over the course of the next few months, you became familiar with the routines of the Wessex palace. King Alfred allowed you to shadow him throughout his day, believing that you could provide valuable insights into his own activities. It was a decision that would lead to a profound connection between the two of you.

Every day, you diligently prepared poultices and medications for the king’s ailments, and often you’d recite the recipe to him and explain the purpose of each herb and plant that went into it. He found that he trusted you completely but he was still comforted by your transparency and the efforts you took to explain things to him. Sometimes he would insist on accompanying you on walks and you would point out the various native English plants and their counterparts back home. You also documented the king's activities and observations in your notebook. At times, he would request to see your notebook, often just to admire the beauty of your script. He marvelled at the graceful lines of your writing, and the intricate calligraphy that adorned the pages.

Your interactions went beyond the formalities of your initial meeting. King Alfred, always eager to learn, would occasionally ask you to translate certain passages from your native language and over time, your bond grew stronger. King Alfred began to look forward to each day, eager to see your bright and colourful veil, a striking contrast to your plain English gowns. He would wonder which hue you would choose, and it became a delightful anticipation in his daily routine.

Your conversations transcended the realm of duty and scholarly pursuits. The two of you shared your favourite books, discussing the nuances of various works and debating the merits of different translations. Your insights challenged Alfred's own understanding, and he cherished these moments of intellectual stimulation.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Alfred realized that you had become an important fixture in his life. your presence was a source of inspiration, a reminder of the power of knowledge, and a testament to the potential for understanding and collaboration between different cultures.

He found himself thinking of you when he was apart from you, reminiscing about how your eyes would dance with mirth as you argued with him about the inaccuracies of translated works, or how your laughter would fill the palace corridors. You had not only enriched his pursuit of knowledge but had also touched his heart, becoming a cherished friend and confidante in the process.

Alfred could still vividly recall the way you had looked at him with genuine wonder and appreciation when he had shown you his humble library. He knew that compared to the great libraries of Alexandria and Baghdad, his collection was modest, but you had delighted in it all the same. Your eyes, filled with curiosity and admiration, had swept over the numerous scrolls and manuscripts, taking in the wealth of knowledge contained within those walls.

In that moment, as you softly murmured your thanks, Alfred felt his breath catch. He was struck not only by the beauty of your physical presence but also by the grace with which you carried yourself and the genuine enthusiasm you displayed for learning. Your voice had a melodic quality that lingered in his memory. It was a voice that seemed to breathe life into the ancient texts that surrounded you and the king found himself quite enamoured with you. The two of you spent many a late night pouring over scrolls together, and although he always kept a respectful distance, Alfred found himself wanting to brush away the stray strands of hair that fell across your forehead, having escaped the tightly bound coil you usually kept your hair in.

Tonight was one such night as the dim light of the candle burned low, and after a lively discussion on herbal medicine, you had fallen asleep on one of the ancient manuscripts. Alfred, his mind still buzzing with the echoes of your conversation, fought against the pull of sleep. Instead, he watched you slumber, his heart filled with a mixture of admiration and tenderness.

In the soft candlelight of the library, you appeared even more enchanting. Your thick eyelashes brushed against your cheeks as you slept peacefully, your features serene. Your form rose and fell with each gentle breath, a rhythmic reminder of the tranquil cadence of sleep. Alfred couldn't help but be captivated by your beauty in this unburdened state. The play of shadows and light highlighted the delicate contours of your face, and the soft glow of the manuscripts around you lent an almost ethereal quality to the scene. You looked like a vision from a dream.

As he watched your slumber, a sudden, unexpected urge welled up within him. He was struck by the temptation to lean in and kiss you, but he quickly banished the traitorous thought. What an absurd thing for a king to do, to force his affections on a guest in his home. Especially when he had no way of knowing if you returned his feelings. He would have to content himself with the simple act of watching you sleep, his heart filled with a deep and unspoken longing.

He also found himself wondering if you were betrothed, for you couldn’t possibly be married and still be here. What man would not accompany you or let you out of his sight if you were his wife? Although you had discussed many things, you did not stray close to personal topics such as family. You were only a few years younger than him and surely you had to have someone in your life. And even if you didn’t, what could you possibly want with an ailing man like him when a woman as accomplished as you could have anyone in the world?

Such melancholy things plagued him as he eventually drifted asleep on the table across from you, his final thoughts fixating on what it might feel like to have your lips against his.

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bunnygirl678 · 3 months

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it's valentine's day, i'm sick so i didn't go bar hopping like i had planned on doing, this is my first single valentine's day in like 7 years and tbh i was looking forward to drinking like i was 22 again, lmao, so in turn y'all are gonna get a bull tauros riding au, little back story, my father and most of my male relatives were bull riders in their younger years so i grew up around the culture and i'm from Texas (fun fact I have the Texas flag above my bed like i'm a frat boy lmao) Also this is probably more along the lines of gameverse?

-Our tauros riders are red and green

-they're competitive with each other, they've been rivals since their mutton wooloo bustin days, they've both got their fair share of buckles, red is the current world champ

-they have a little secret though, they're mutually in love with each other but neither will admit

-red doesn't speak to most people, won't do interviews, he'll talk to Green though, Green on the other end will take any sponsorship he can get, is constantly doing interviews, loves the attention

-then some new comers pop up on the scene, we've got the mysterious redheaded cowboy with a chip on his shoulder named Silver, and he's itching to take the title from Red

-who is Silver? well turns out he's the son of Giovanni, the previous champion who came out of retirement to go up against red,

-but Giovanni got hurt, bad, like he almost died, Silver blames Red for what happened to his father, but Silver looks nothing like his father and doesn't use his name so no one knows who he is, but he wants revenge

-Silver refuses to make friends with anyone, even though Green keeps reaching out, desperately trying

-then there's Gold, a buckle bunnelby (buckle bunny is a term for "fake" country girls who hang around rodeos trying to date the cowboys) who has a thing for redheads

-Gold takes interest in Silver, who is up and coming winning a bunch, there's more to Gold than meets the eye, Silver ends up letting Gold hang around him a lot and falls for the cutie the more he gets to know the real him

-Green too becomes close with Gold, but not in a romantic way (remember he's hopelessly in love with his rival), problem is Red doesn't know that

-Red gets jealous that Green and Gold hang around together he starts lashing out a bit towards Gold, now Silver already hates Red but watching Red be an ass to Gold pisses him off even more

-they're practicing together, Red is being a super asshole to Gold, and Gold is done. He gets up on a bull before Silver/Green can stop him,

-Guess what, Gold was an up and coming rider before he suddenly quit, after proving himself he jumps off leaving everyone flabbergasted and just keeps walking,

-Silver ends up going after him, because he thought they were friends why would he never tell him, Gold admits crying that his mom passed from an extended illness and he couldn't bring himself to keep going, it had always been their thing, whereas with Silver it was the opposite, he had never been interested until his dad got hurt

-Silver convinces Gold to start riding again, suddenly he's not as interested in revenge but wants to see Gold succeed, late one night after a particularly grueling training Gold leans in and kisses Silver, Silver kisses back, they're together now <3

-Red pushes himself harder, Green announces that he's going to retire at the end of the season, Red is heart broken the best part of riding is competing against Green, and he really won't see Green anymore if he retires, like he knows it's the end of their friendship

-it's finally time for the big finals, red, green, silver, gold are the top contenders, Silver places 4th, he and his father share a nice moment, he's upset he didn't beat Red, but he found love awwww

-green places 3rd, he's happy, says he's looking forward to starting the next chapter of his life (maybe he gets a ranch idk), but there's a sadness in his eyes when he looks at red, regret for things never said or done

-it's down to red vs gold, red hates gold, he thinks green likes him, doesn't know about silver, ect ect

-gold wins 1st, he's the new champion, he points the sky and says 'look mama i did it!' very sweet and emotional, silver runs out kissing his boy, not only did gold do amazing and fulfilled his dream, he beat red effectively getting revenge in silver's eyes

-red is like wait???? gold is with silver???? then he's like oh shit green must be heartbroken, that was why he looked so sad, he goes to find green and tell him how sorry he was, and at first green thinks it's about him placing 3rd and he's kinda pissed about it, like it feels condescending

-but red is like you deserve better than gold anyway, and green is like wait what? you thought i liked gold?? no you big dummy i like you!

-thinking it's his last chance, green kisses red, who immediately kisses back

-leads to 'oh wait i thought this was one-sided'

-red who really cares more about green than his title announces his retirement, he and green settle down on a ranch growing old together

-gold rides a few more seasons then retires as well, he and silver breed tauros and live happily ever after

#namelessshipping #reguri #preciousmetalshipping #this is one of those aus that appeal to me and like maybe one other person

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9leaguesofmirrors · 2 months

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Set Lists (a Ross Gaines x Joseph Lisgoe fanfic)

This is purely self-indulgent. Nobody asked for a Band!AU, but I love the idea of Drummer!Lisgoe, so we have a band AU!

If you wanna know the name of the song the band is playing, it's Jobseeker by Sealford Mods because the song slaps and I like irony

CONTENT WARNINGS: Smoking and car makeout sessions because that's the life of a rocker innit?

If there was one thing Ross hated about the bar he went to, it was the Open Mic that happened every Thursday night

It had gotten to the point where he was playing mental bingo just to keep his sanity:

"Open Mic Thursdays" set list

A girl screeching her way through My Heart Will Go On

A group of drunk milennials singing ABBA

Some guy with a guitar (bonus points if he plays Wonderwall)

A wannabe rock band

A couple that thinks they’re in a Disney movie

The theatre kid

The one that can actually sing and wants to make it everyone’s problem

The try-hard crooner

So far, he’d managed to tick off almost everything (tonight they had a couple that was particularly gushy and it almost made Ross want to hurl his guts up), and now he was scanning the room for those rock wannabes. It was slightly shameful, the child-like excitement this game gave him, but it was keeping his morale up. And after the day he had at work, it was the least he deserved

And right on cue...

He watched as a group of black-clad 30-somethings took the stage to set up. Surely there’s an age cap on when it’s acceptable to still be in a band was Ross’ immediate thought before turning to his whiskey

Ross could hear a voice through the microphone, but he wasn’t paying too much attention. It wasn’t until the sound of heavy guitar filled the air that he could no longer focus on just his drink due to the sheer noise of it. The joys of live music. Always a racket

What it did mean, however, was that Ross was finally able to see what exactly a bunch of washed-up rockers looked like

"Weird Rock Band" set list

The singer: A slightly weedy guy with shoulder-length hair and glasses who, in all honesty, stuck out like a sad little thumb

The guitarist: Girl in a black bomber jacket and some sort of weird, messy updo; she looked like she’d jumped straight out of an 80s music video

The bassist: Another girl. Undercut, lace button-down and a silver chain. Looked a lot like the drummer, speaking of which...

The drummer: Who was now slamming his drumsticks down on the instrument like it had done something to personally wrong him

If Ross had to pick, and he only ever would if he had a gun to his head, he’d say the drummer was perhaps the most convincing rocker. He certainly had the jewellery, and he had that look of intense anger that was very prevalent in the scene. Ross was slightly ashamed that he could recognise it

Even though he didn’t want to admit it, this band was one of the better ones. Not that it meant much, considering the last time a band performed it ended with the guitarist grabbing a drumstick and volleying it at someone in the back of the pub

In particular, something about the drummer caught Ross’ eye. He’d never seen someone give it the way he did. Despite there being four people on that stage, the drummer was the one clearly pulling focus. And it wasn’t the usual desperate pandering, he was just present in the moment. Ross was slightly concerned that he was going to put a stick through a drum, but at least he was interesting to watch

Well, he wasn’t sure about the rest of the audience, but he was intrigued

The song reached its end and recieved a generally warm atmosphere. Ross' eyes still found themselves on the drummer as he twirled his drumsticks around with his fingers. He'd hardly noticed the singer step forward until he started talking, much to the disappointment of Ross

“We enjoying ourselves!”

I was until you showed up

“I said are we enjoying ourselves!”

Clean out your ears

He spoke a little more, and the people watching were having a good time, but Ross only started really paying attention when he started introducing the band members

"Weird Rock Band" set list 2.0

The singer: Admittedly, even Ross didn’t catch his name. He just wished he’d shut up and finish the song

The guitarist: Ruby Louganis

The bassist: Jodie something

“And of course, last but not least,”

Jesus christ, this is dragging on

“Please give it up for our drummer-“

Can we wrap this up?

"-Mr. Joseph Lisgoe!”

... Joseph

Drummer of a rock band

And his name’s Joseph?

There wasn’t anytime to ponder this though, because the band had started up again, playing another song Ross didn't recognise. Ross went back to his drink, allowing the noise to fade into the background

The band weren’t up for too long, only about two or three songs, before they packed up and went off into the backrooms. Not emerging until a bit later, well, two of them did. The girls. Ruby and Jodie

The closer she was, Ross could really see the resemblance between Jodie and the drummer. It was strange, they looked so alike yet extremely different. Though that could’ve been due to the thick eye makeup she was wearing-

“Show’s over, cunt. Eyes on your glass.”

Damn it

“I was just wondering-“

“Bet you were.”

“Nothing like that! You just looked like your drummer, wondered if there was a genetic reason.”

Jodie gritted her teeth like she was about to launch at him, but was stopped by Ruby placing a hand on her shoulder

“We’ll take your word for it,” she said, zipping up her bomber jacket “Jodie and Joseph are twins.”

“Makes sense. How long have you been playing together?”

“We don’t.” Jodie piped up, still wary of whether she could trust Ross or not “This was just a laugh. I like guitar, he likes drums. Thought ‘fuck it, why not?’ and found out Ruby and Jezza were looking for substitutes. This is a one night only deal.”

Ross nodded and tapped his fingers against his empty glass. For some reason, his mind shifted to the drummer. He always thought twins were attached at the hip

“Does your brother not hang around then? Early night for Little Drummer Boy?”

It came out a lot more condescending than he’d intended, but it got a slight laugh from both of the girls, so at least it eased the tension

“He’s probably outside,” Jodie said “smoking it up-“

“Or having it on with someone.”

“I’ll break his fucking teeth if he is, I’m not staying after hours so he can get a quick shag!”

“And I’m not dragging you off him when the fight breaks out, so get a shot down you and ease up!”

Since Jodie and Ruby seemed to be enjoying their drinks, Ross figured he’d leave them to it. Besides, he needed some fresh air

As Ross approached the side of the pub, he noticed a figure wearing a vest top on the far end. Lanky, cigarette in hand, back against the wall. He couldn’t make out the face until he took a few steps closer

“Can I help you?” Came the figure’s voice, slightly nasal

“I can leave if you want.”

“Nah. Public place, innit?”

Ross leaned against the wall next to him, keeping a slight distance out of respect. Close enough to see the many tattoos that covered his arms, upper chest, and the one on his neck. Usually, Ross thought tattoos were either gross or a desperate attempt to appear intimidating. But he had to admit, the barbed wire that travelled up his arms, the black bird on his neck and what looked like a crack on his chest looked quite good

Obviously, by 'good', he meant objectively speaking

Once he saw the slicked-back hair and the hardened gaze, he recognised who the stranger was

“It’s Joseph, isn’t it?”

“Yup.” He threw the cigarette down and stomped it into the ground “Most people call me Lisgoe.”

“That a stage name?”

Lisgoe gave him an incredulous, amused look

“No. It’s my surname.”

“I’ve never known someone use their surname as a first name before.”

“Puts a boundary up. Helps with my job.”

Right thought Ross he’s not a musician

“I collect debts,” Lisgoe explained, as if he could read Ross’ mind “well, I mainly deal with desk stuff. But I deal with the more difficult targets. Ones that need an extra push.”

Ross thought back to his aggressive drumming and decided that he didn’t want to know how he convinced those ‘difficult targets’

“What?”

Ross snapped out of his thoughts with a soft “hm?”

“You went off somewhere, have you been drinking?”

“What? No! Well, a little, but I can hold my alcohol well. And I never get drunk.”

“Wowee!" Sneered the drummer "We're in the presence of Mother Theresa!"

"Was that necessary?"

"Yeah, I'd say it was."

After that rather snappy altercation, Ross was ready to turn right around and walk off, the only thing that stopped him was the sound of Lisgoe's voice

"You a regular then? At this bar, I mean."

"Yes?"

"No clue how, the drinks are shite and everyone that goes here is a twat."

"Like me?"

That, admittedly, came out as more of an accusation than a legitimate question, and he very nearly asked him to forget it, but that was stopped when he noticed the way Lisgoe was looking at him. As if he was taking the whole of him, really studying him. Reaching into his eyes and grasping his brain, taking it apart with a scalpel to see what was inside

In a word, it was exposing. But not in a creepy way. Ross was frozen in place. Under the watchful eye of Joseph Lisgoe, he felt both anxious and completely at ease. It was a strange feeling, not unpleasant but extremely unorthodox

It was the man's voice that broke him out of his thoughts

"Nah. Well, you seem a little stuck up."

Rude

"And you dress like a secondary school History teacher."

Rude, but annoyingly accurate

"But you're not a twat like most people are." He gestured vaguely with his cigarette "You go to bars and you see all kinds of people. The ones that try to fit in. The ones that think they're God's fucking gift because they don't fit in, the ones that are so desperate to fit in they'll do fucking anything."

"And where do I fit?"

"That's the thing," Lisgoe took a puff of his cigarette "you don't really seem like the kind of guy to fit any of those boxes. You're just... you. You wear your clothes, you drink your beer. And if you don't like the band that's onstage, you don't bother watching. Unless you're making eyes at the drummer."

That last part was accompanied by a playful smirk that made Ross roll his eyes

"I wasn't making eyes at you."

"Would you rather I called it 'gawking' then?"

"I'd rather you didn't exaggerate."

"Whatever," he waved his cigarette dismissively "my point still stands. You don't give a fuck about what people say, you don't seem like the kind of guy that bends to how people think you should act. It's pretty punk."

"I'd hardly call myself a punk."

"You don't look the part, but you're more punk than most twats that wear the badges."

There was something strange about Lisgoe. For someone that spoke so casually, with such a relaxed and colloquial atmosphere, he was strangely philosophical. Contradicting, that's how Ross felt it best to describe Lisgoe

As they stood in silence, Ross' eyes were caught by Lisgoe taking out his cigarette box. Well, for some reason, was specifically watching his hands. Clearly, he wasn't new to this, and his fingers were equally as skilled. That must've been due to his drumming hobby

Why he didn't just look away, Ross didn't know, he can't recognised he was staring until he was pulled out of his trance by Lisgoe's voice

"Did you want one?"

Ross just shook his head, suddenly finding the floor fascinating. Not fascinating enough to stop his eyes from darting over at Lisgoe as he let the cigarette stay in his mouth, stretching his hands down by his sides. The tendons fidgeted as he moved his fingers, bending and shifting in a way that was almost hypnotic

He had rings on. That was how Ross excused his fascination. Silver, some had small black gems, they were quite pretty. Suited him. Suited his hands

Those hands-

"If you want a smoke, I don't mind sharing."

"I was looking at your jewellery."

"Is that right?" Lisgoe's tone was smug and biting, cigarette still in his teeth "Just my jewellery?"

Usually, Ross would just deny it and move on. And he knew he was for the best. But he watched as Lisgoe moved to stand directly in front of him, slowly reaching to take the cigarette out from between his teeth. There was something about the way his canines caught his lower lip as he smiled that caught Ross' attention and refused to let it go

"What else would I be looking at?"

"Dunno," Lisgoe's right hand jolted out to grab Ross' left shoulder, standing in front of him as he brushed his forearm against Ross' throat, causing him to let out a strangled gasp "what else could have your attention?"

Well... this is new

The eye contact between them was thick and glowing like an ember. Ross' eyes darted towards Lisgoe's forearm and he made the mistake of glancing at his shoulder. Because he was instantly met with the sight of Lisgoe's hand tightly gripping it

And that made it incredibly hard to make rational decision

"I'm not a hook-up sort of person," Ross said softly, the way he spoke sounded more like a challenge than anything else "you'll have to do more than push me into a wall to convince me to spend the night with you."

"You may not wanna hook up, but you want something." This was followed by a hand slipping down Ross' back, resting on his ass "Something a little more hands-on?"

"And you're alright with acting like this in public? Where anyone could catch you?"

"No big deal," came the drummer's response as he pulled away, which caused Ross' more disappointment than he cared to admit "part of the fun. But you look like you don't get much of that."

The glare Ross gave him caused him to laugh, and he took another smoke of his cigarette

No fun, is that what you think?

He had the decency to wait for Lisgoe to stop inhaling the smoke before tugging him in by his vest. But, just as their lips brushed, he hesitated. It felt odd. Not bad, not at all. Hell, as he heard Lisgoe exhale the smoke into the tiny space between them, Ross could feel his head spin quite pleasurably. It just wasn't what he was used to, none of it was

Oddly enough, it was as if Lisgoe could read his mind through the web of thought he was tangled in

"Could leave you alone," he said casually "just say the word and I'll fuck off. The others are probably wondering where I am anyway." A pause. As if he were trying to work out how to speak without pushing "Or... if it's publicity you don't like, my apartment's free. Up to you really."

"Logical Things To Say" setlist

"No, I've just met you"

"I have work in the morning"

"This is a very bad idea"

"We could get caught"

"Not very decent, is it?"

Ross opened his mouth and responded with the first thing that came to mind

******************************************

After a long day at work, or a long day anywhere for that matter, Lisgoe often enjoyed sitting in his car, in some secluded area, accompanied only by his thoughts and the radio

This time, however, he was in his car, in some secluded alleyway

The radio off

And his tongue down someone's throat

What a fucking night!

*********************************************

Ross' brain had been yelling at him about his complete lack of dignity as soon as Lisgoe started leading him to his car. It had been somewhat quietened by the feeling of Lisgoe's hand massaging his thigh as he drove, but it didn't leave him alone until the car was stopped and Ross felt his chin being grabbed and his head turned to face the man in the driver's seat

The man he was currently straddling the lap of, in that exact driver's seat

"Making Out With A Guy You Just Met" set list

The buzzing in your stomach at the potential for getting caught, a combination of fear and thrill

Cramped spaces that aren't exactly comfortable, but makes everything feel that much more sensual

Jesus christ, I'm making out with a stranger in the front seat of his car

All of Ross' thoughts came through as static, every time he felt Lisgoe grip at his sides, tug his shirt, run his hands across his bare skin, the static got more intense until his head was completely empty of what had happened and what might happen next. All he could focus on was cold hands on warm skin, the sound of the drummer's breathing becoming more laboured and heavy

He didn't even realise he was making gentle sounds of his own until Lisgoe broke the kiss to tell him in a breathy tone

"You sound so fucking good."

"Do I?"

Lisgoe just nodded as he pulled Ross back in, as if replying simply wasted too much time. Time he wanted to spend completely melting into him, surrounded by the combining scent of cologne and cigarettes. Strange, but somehow added to the thrill. Made it feel more rebellious

"Just realised," Lisgoe muttered against Ross' mouth, unable to pull himself away for more than a few seconds "never got your name."

"Right."

"So what is it?"

"Um, Ross."

As Ross placed a hand on Lisgoe's chest, he could feel the way a chuckle rumbled gently through him

"You didn't sound too sure, that an alias or something? Are you a spy-"

Ross put a stop to the teasing by trailing his lips along Lisgoe's jawline

"It's Ross." He said gently in his ear "Ross Gaines. And I'm an auditor at the job centre, not a spy."

As he kissed down Lisgoe's neck, taking his time as he did with most things, he could hear his saying something under his breath

"Ross Gaines. Ross Gaines."

Each time his name was said, more heat started to pool within him. The way it sounded in Lisgoe's voice wasn't quite something he'd prepared for

"It's fun to say, 'Ross Gaines' all those s sounds." Lisgoe's lips moved to his ear, nipping at the lobe "Ross..." his hand slid up his shirt, digging slightly into his skin "Fuck sake, Ross Gaines," he grabbed the hem of his trousers, moving to undo his belt "you taste so sweet."

The hissing of the sibilance, combined with the feeling of the words hitting his skin, was enough to make Ross slightly dizzy. And the feeling of his belt being unbuckled was not helping his critical reasoning skills in the slightest. The words were bubbling up through his throat, arms wrapped around Lisgoe's neck as pulled him in, as if searching for a way to distract himself. To stop himself from falling off the edge

"Ross-"

"Wait."

Lisgoe pulled his hands away, holding them up like he'd been stopped by police

"You said your apartment was free?"

"I live alone, so I'd be fucking confused if it wasn't."

That made Ross roll his eyes, laughing a little. His hands made their way to cup Lisgoe's face, looking at him with considering eyes

"Do you do this often then?"

"Not as often as people think." Lisgoe answered, his hands on Ross' hips "Yeah, sometimes I like a quick one before I go to bed, but I'm not exactly a hook-up expert. I just get horny." His hands moved slowly up his sides, sending a chill up Ross' spine "You're the first one I've invited back though, I like your company. You're hot as fuck, but you're also easy to talk to. I respect that."

"I thought it was common decency to kick the person out of bed after you're done with them."

That got a gravelly chuckle from the drummer and he let his hand travel to Ross' ass, squeezing roughly

"I like spicing things up every now and then."

"Really?" Ross, in a sudden wave of boldness, leaned in and brushed their lips together "Because I think stalling things would make it quite boring."

The sound of Lisgoe's stuttered breath bounced in Ross' head

"Was... your fucking idea." He replied with a sly smile "You changing your mind, Ross?"

"I'm allowed." He bit Lisgoe's lower lip and god! The low, raspy moan it produced caused his hips to buck, which only drew another groan from the drummer's lips "Any objections, Joseph?"

"Say my name like that again and I won't be able to fucking talk, let alone object!"

There was no more time for set lists

#reece shearsmith #league of gentlemen #the league of gentlemen #joseph lisgoe #ross gaines #gainsgoe #gainesgoe

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khfankeri · 6 months

Text

The Jail Cell Scene Master Post

Just because I love this scene so much and I took a bunch of pictures for it.

The fear in his eyes.

One of the few times you ever see Lucas upset.

One of the few times you ever see Lucas at a great height than Amicia. Showing you how very low she is right now.

They're about to die, so you understand why Lucas is so incredibly upset.

I don't know what's happening to me, Lucas! I feel my mind going!

The absolute desperation in her eyes gets me every time.

I got this shot of Lucas as she was saying these things, and you don't normally get to see the change in his face. And oh my heart. The realization in his eyes...

When he starts coming down to her level... :')

The concern on his face always gets me.

The cape cracks me up, because obviously you're not supposed to be looking at it in this scene, but I thought I'd post it anyway. haha

You're not them, Amicia. You're a de Rune.

The look of desperation and hope mixed together. Lucas is like an anchor in the turbulence of her anger and sadness.

I just love that her head is highlighted by light from a window in this shot. Almost as if hope has been restored.

My boy looking more like a man here. :')

Lifting her up as always and being a true gentleman about it.

Like the prince that he is.

Anyway, I love these two. They always make my day.

#a plague tale #a plague tale requiem #amicia de rune #lucas the apprentice #lucas x amicia #lumicia #amicia x lucas #a plague tale amicia #a plague tale innocence #lucas #in game photography #in game screenshots #in game shots #plaguetober

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kristinakyidyl · 2 years

Text

S1e10 HotD trailer

So...MAN did I get some stuff wrong last week! Some right, but they went off book quite a bit, although all the normal points were there and I still liked it. It was also amazing TV.

Anyway, this is the last time I get to do this for like 2 years, so let's go! Also, as usual, THAR BE BOOK SPOILERS!

First shot is a dragon flying over the water. At first I thought this was Rhaenys on her way home, but when I slowed it down I realized it wasn't. The dragon is way too small, there's no crown horns, and it's not red. I think this is actually Luke on Arrax on their way to Storm's End.

This shot is pretty straightforward, it's just Rhaenys getting home and delivering her message.

Daemon grabbing Dark Sister. I liked this detail shot of the sword. BC this week we got some emphasis on Blackfyre, and now we get the other half of the set.

Daemyra drama, while Daemon's voiceover says "they stole your birthright". I think maybe, like Alicent this week, she's not too happy about the idea of just going to war and murdering a bunch of people. She's gonna change her mind reeeeal quick this week tho.

Next is Aemond taking his eye patch. There was a sapphire in his emblem in the opening this week, so I think they stopped juuuuust short of showing us the sapphire he wears in place of his eye. I think this is during the Storm's End marriage negotiation.

A closer shot of the first black council. Two Kingsgard (Lorant Morbrand and Steffon Darkling, I believe.) have arrived on Dragonstone, as have some additional lords whose names I don't know. I believe this is shortly before the Daemyra drama scene.

Another black council, I believe this is the one where we see Rhaenyra walking in after being crowned. L-->R is Rhaenys, Lorant, Maester Gerardys, I *think* Bartimos Celtigar bc those look like claws on his gold necklace, Steffon Darkling, and Rhaenyra.

This is the same council from a different angle, showing the kids: Baela, Jace, Luke, and Rhaena. I believe this is when they propose to Rhaenyra that they be sent to Winterfell and Storm's End. She assents to this, and Jace goes north while Luke goes south.

This is where it starts to get sad. This is Arrax and Luke running towards each other in the yard of Storm's End. This is Luke running for his life, because Aemond is there with Vhagar, and Lord Baratheon allows Aemond to go after Luke. Luke knows what's coming and he only hopes he can outrun Vhagar and Aemond. This is going to be HARD to watch. It's also the first dragon death of the series.

Granny Vhagar looming ominously over Storm's End. The size difference between her and Arrax is amazing.

Luke flying for his life away from Storm's End, desperately hoping he can outrun Vhagar. Maybe he thinks he has a chance because younger dragons are so much faster than older ones, but Vhagar just covers so much of the damned sky with each wing flap.

Ok next is some interesting dragon content. Love me some dragons. This is the face of a new dragon we don't know yet. It isn't Caraxes, but if you look closely at its eye, you can see Daemon reflected in its eyeball. He's holding his hand up and singing to it in High Valyrian, similar to when Aemond tamed Vhagar. This *MIGHT* be Cannibal. If it is, they miscounted dragons in s1 and we got 10, not 9! ^_^ But yeah, this happens on Dragonstone and this dragon looks black and is very big. The only one fitting that description is Cannibal.

Daemon singing in High Valyrian while he sets down his torch in front of this dragon. It almost seems like he's trying to tame a second dragon while Caraxes is still alive, which doesn't seem to be a thing? Maybe he thinks it is? Maybe this is setting up the claiming of Seasmoke? I don't think I'd enjoy this particular lore change. Like if this could happen why wouldn't one person just bond tons of dragons?

The beast in question. See how large it is? I don't think it's Caraxes, the anatomy and sound you hear in the trailer is wrong.

Meleys, Arrax, and Vermax (Rhaenys, Luke, and Jace respectively) leaving Dragonstone. I believe it's Meleys and Vermax in the foreground and Arrax in the background (Arrax has a smooth tail, Vermax has a similar tail to Syrax.). Makes sense that they're heading different directions.

Another shot of Daemon and that black dragon. If this dragon IS Cannibal and Daemon is trying to tame it, I can see why he would want to. Cannibal is the oldest and largest of the 3 wild dragons, and the people who live on Dragonstone say it's been there since before the Targaryens arrived. So...the extra firepower would probably be tempting for someone like Daemon. I don't think he'll be successful, but if anyone would be it's Daemon. He's GRRM's fav character and a bit of a Gary Stu. I still like him but it's true lol.

Next shot is on that infamous Dragonstone bridge and Daemon is brandishing a sword at Otto again. Rhaenyra is there reading a paper, so I think this is when they deliver the terms of her surrender (or, rather, renouncing her claim in favor of Aegon's.) from Aegon. She, obviously, rejects said terms. This is before Aemond kills Luke. Or before they know about it, obviously. I believe this probably happens shortly before we see the dragons leaving. The lighting looks similar.

Closeup of Granny Vhagar as she chases Luke through the storm. I'd run too.

And that's it for next week's trailer. I suspect it was a shorter one bc they don't want too many spoilers, so that probably means there'll also be surprises for book readers. That's one of the things I've found consistently enjoyable about the series; the writers still manage to surprise book readers while mostly playing in the bounds of canon, and when not doing that they usually stay true to the spirit of the canon (the Meleys thing tonight was a bit...much...tho.).

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #got #game of thrones #hotd #house of the dragon #house targaryen #westeros #asoiaf fandom #targaryens #hotd spoilers #trailers #hotd trailer

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disappointmentthemusical · 28 days

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I am the ao3 commentator who is asking for the lore/deleted scenes of ur zukka fic 😌 please and thank u

omg i'm in love with u

ok, so, bathically (yes, that's a lisp), the plot of Between the Lines was my intended plot for Hugging Buddies, but HB got too long (i was only wanting to spend a single day writing it, otherwise I wud probs lose inspiration and abandon it [as what happens w all my other wips, #rip]), so i ended HB after the First Hug. But! i had a bunch of fluffy scenes over the years planned that would establish the level of their "platonic" emotional and physical intimacy, as well as lead up to the reunion. i used what i thought were the two most important in BtL, but i didn't include all of them.

context:

so, depending on the omegaverse lore u subscribe to, omegas don't actually purr that often. either it's an autonomic process that omegas have little to no control of, or it's purely intentional. either way, it's indicative of an omega feeling safe/secure/happy, and i would imagine that's particularly true, as well as rare, for zuko. that means that not only was it a big deal for his to purr in the first place around the fire, but it's an immense amount of trust he had in zuko to purr the first time they hugged. and then for him to seek sokka out before sozin's comet? Big Deal.

my thought process from there was, like, if zuko already trusts sokka that much, then how much farther can he go?

a "deleted" scene that i personally love so much and was so sad not to include happens within the first couple months post-war. zuko and sokka still see each other at least semi-frequently (maybe the gaangs staying at the fire palace to help zuko's transition?) which means their hugging buddy status is unchanged, i.e. lots and lots of hugs.

i imagine that while becoming firelord is stressful, it's nothing like being a banished prince desperately hunting a myth or being effectively a child soldier traveling with four other child soldiers to defeat ur father. add in his New and Improved support system, zuko is definitely a lot more chill. (ignoring, of course, his social ineptitudes.)

and being more chill means being able to relax fully, right? and if you've got a hugging buddy whom who share a bed with more often than not, then those two things will definitely crossover at some point.

so i had planned a scene where the gaang is hanging out, maybe an informal dinner, just like the good ole days of hanging out around the campfire (sans the war context, of course). it's probably a low table (borrowing from japanese culture), which means they're seated on the floor, and as the night winds down, sokka teasingly requests/demands his hug of the day. zuko tries to get out of it without explaining why, but it gets to the point where, to avoid causing a scene or making it a Big Deal, he gives in. he curls up on sokka's chest, seated sideways between his legs, and almost immediately falls asleep. sokka spends the rest of the evening holding zuko in his arms while their friends talk and laugh and reminisce, and it's one of the first truly peaceful nights they have post-war.

other general things:

i mentioned it in BtL, but zuko 100% starts casually leaning on sokka, like, all the time. not necessarily always to receive a hug, but any time they're together, zuko will bodily lean his weight onto sokka, kind of like a dog will lean on ur legs.

sokka's scent is definitely light and airy. i'm thinking sea salt, snow and maybe something vegetal, and then there's def an element of musk, almost like sweat, but in a good way. i think it pairs well with zuko's floral/warm/fire scent.

lmk if u want to know more or have any specific questions. i, like, love talking about headcanons, so ur more than welcome to add to any of this with ur own thoughts.

#anon ask #zukka #ao3

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heisenberg-simp257 · 2 years

Note

Ok so hear me out. Imagine trying to save your S/O but you end up just a little to late and they only have enough time to rest their heavy (perhaps bleeding) head on your shoulder and have one last conversation before the end.

Thinking dialogues 67, 71 and 98 with heis or something just sone absolutely gut wrenching angst. A real whump.

Angst? Sure, my friend❤ and this is indeed sad...I hope to capture it well. If anyone’s seen it, I’m picturing that scene in Supernatural between Joe and Dean.

*Angst Warning!!*

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Who Knew a First Kiss Could be a Last?

Heisenberg never should’ve let you go off alone, and after a fight no less.

#67 “One last thing before I go, you really didn’t notice all those signs I gave to you?”

#71 “I’ve been waiting forever to hear that.”

#98 “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. Just breathe.”

He had a sickening feeling in his gut. Heisenberg only ever feels this way when something is wrong. Like, really wrong. It also didn’t help that you weren’t here at the moment, making his feelings much worse.

So, what happened?

Well, you know Heisenberg. One thing led to another, and soon the two of you are fighting. It wouldn’t be surprising if Chris Redfield and his squad heard the whole argument because of how loud both of you were yelling. However, it got to the point where you were just fed up with him. But it was Heisenberg who told you to “fucking get lost”, so you did.

“One last thing before I go, you really didn’t notice all those signs I gave to you?” Was what you shouted back at him before leaving, causing him to be in shock. He never assumed that you could ever feel the same about him as he did for you. Perhaps that’s why you fought so often, because he was trying to push you away. At any feat, it made him feel so much worse, especially when he saw the sadness in your eyes as you left.

That was hours ago.

It was during the warmer months of the year, which in turn caused a tsunami of rain to pour from the sky. The metal Lord had no idea where you could’ve gone as you weren’t close to any of the others. He never meant it when he told you to leave, and he knows he’s done wrong.

You are too important for him to lose, so he sets out to find you.

Dread slowly fills his heart with each passing minute. The lycans were howling as well, which never meant anything good. Then, he saw something that made his heart beat even faster.

A bunch of ravens circling.

In this weather, that can only mean that something was dead or dying, and they were waiting to get their fill. He rushed towards the scene, killing every and any lycan that dare get in his way. Whether it was because he was pissed or scared, he didn’t know. All he did know, was that all his gut instincts were telling him to get there.

And he wished they weren’t because the scene he met was terrifying.

“Y/N!” Heisenberg shouted your name in desperation, in a way he’s never done before. You were a bloody mess with several (probably deep) lacerations from the lycans no doubt. Speaking of the lycans, he killed every single one that tried to nip at you or tried to attack him.

It didn’t take him long to obliterate the whole pack.

“Hey, hey, I’m here now.” His voice was soft, gentle even, as he picked you up and placed his fingers on your neck. There was a pulse, but it was very faint. Soon, your eyes slowly opened, much to his relief.

“You...came for me...?” You managed to wheeze out. He nodded before gently moving some of your blood-stained hair out of your face.

“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. Just breathe.” Heisenberg could hear the panic in his own voice, so he knew that you could as well. As you tried to sit up better, you started to cough.

Out comes some piercing red blood.

Heisenberg quickly moved to help rest your heavy head on his shoulder. Blood was getting everywhere, but he didn’t care. He just wanted you close to him, to feel your warmth. However, you felt so cold. He placed an arm around you, gently, and tried to warm you up.

But to no avail.

“Karl...I’m sorry...” You tried to say, your eyes feeling heavy as you felt the warmth leaving your body through every laceration that bled.

“Please don’t try to speak. You need your strength.” Heisenberg said, barely brining his eyes to look at you. He just couldn’t bring himself to see you in such a state.

Especially when he blamed himself for it.

“You know...I’m not going to make it...” You whispered, all the strength you had to speak leaving quickly.

“Don’t say that! You are going to be just fine! I just...I just need to clean you up a bit.” As he said this, he used anything at his disposal to try and close your wounds, but in this wasteland, things like that were far and few. Heisenberg also knew he was in denial, but he refused to believe that you were going to die.

But the continuous blood stains growing on his clothes told him otherwise.

The rain continued to fall.

“Y/N...y-you can’t leave me. I can’t be alone again...” He hated that his voice whimpered because he wanted so badly to be strong. However, the pain in his chest at the thought of never having you by his side again hurt too much.

“I...I love you...so damn much...” He cried out, quickly moving to brush away the rain that was on his face. Or was it tears? At this point, he didn’t know nor did he care. Heisenberg brought the courage to look down at you.

He was surprised to see a soft smile on your face.

“I’ve been waiting forever to hear that.” You murmured out before both the smile and your eyes began to fade away. However, Heisenberg was not done here.

He shakily leaned down to kiss your lips.

They were cold, and you didn’t kiss him back. That was when he knew that you were gone. Dead. And he had no one to blame but himself. He couldn’t blame his fellow Lords or even Miranda. You ran out because he yelled at you to do so.

Right into the claws of the lycans.

“I’m sorry...I’m so sorry...” He cried out before hugging your lifeless body close. Heisenberg didn’t care about all the blood and the rain on him. All he wanted was you back. He couldn’t handle being alone again after all the love you brought into his life.

However, he guesses he deserves this. He deserves loneliness.

After taking your body home with him and making sure you got the proper burial you deserved, Heisenberg went on a rage-filled frenzy. All the crashing and breaking could probably be heard all the way to Donna’s place.

In fact, even at one of the Lord’s meetings, no one dared say anything. Heisenberg’s eyes were cold and empty, and he didn’t speak at all. Even Alcina knew better than to say anything.

When he went home that day, he knew you wouldn’t be there. It was then that Heisenberg had a reflection on his life. He deserved this. An angel like you never belonged with a monster like him, so you were taken away.

So, here he was, alone and unloved.

As he felt he should be.

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