#fully and utterly wrecked by this show

[winterwyrd]

When it comes to desperately grasping the back of another man's neck NO ONE is doing it like the lord of the rings musical cast, no one.

#can confirm that watching it for the third time has made me worse #fully and utterly wrecked by this show #we were right up above the stage and god everything up close is so so so so good everyone in this cast is doing so much all the time #and it's spectacular #lord of the rings musical #obviously there's the sam frodo headgrasp there's also aragorn boromir; legolas and gimli: aragorn and frodo right at the end #lotr musical

[anthurak]

Something I’ve always found rather curious about the Adventure Time fandom, specifically Bubbline shippers, is that nobody seems to talk about how the show slipped in what might be the most angsty, hardcore and emotionally raw Bubbline stories disguised as a wacky Rashomon-style recap in the episode Ketchup.

Like it’s pretty clear that Marceline is doing the whole ‘Lollipop Girl and Rockstar Girl’ puppet-show because she doesn’t want to traumatize BMO with what happened while they, Finn and Jake were gone, and also because she herself doesn’t want to revisit those memories directly.

But when we start reading between the lines and recognize that Marceline’s embellishments are really more to tone DOWN events, I think we get a very stark and raw depiction of what Marceline was doing when Patience set off Ooo’s elemental apocalypse.

Just to kick things off, how much does anyone want to bet that this joke translates to ‘Marceline and Bubblegum had a fight and Marcy was giving Bonnie some space… and because of that, Marceline wasn’t there to protect Bonnie when she was kidnapped by Patience.’?

Kinda adds another layer to Marcy’s whole ‘I was so afraid something bad would happen to you’ breakdown in Come Along With Me, doesn’t it?

Next we have ‘Rockstar Girl smacking off the potato-heads growing on her’ which pretty easily translates to; ‘while everyone else was getting overrun by the elements, Marceline was able to fight off the elemental contamination for possibly entire days while she tried to find a way to help Bubblegum’. And given what we see with Finn and Jake only able to resist the contamination for maybe a few hours at a time, and how willpower was one of the only things that could hold it off, that says a LOT about just how DESPERATE Marcy was to help Bonnie. I mean, you want a really hardcore and messed up image? Imagine if Marceline was actively cutting or RIPPING off the contaminated parts of herself to keep it from spreading and regrowing those parts with her vampiric regeneration?

Then we have ‘Rockstar Girl went after the Blue Tranch’, which I can only imagine translates to ‘Marceline going on a GOLB-DAMMNED WARPATH to hunt down Patience St. Pim’. And let’s remember that A. Patience was currently a super-charged Elemental and B. Marceline would still be fighting off elemental contamination herself, whether the Candification from Bubblegum, the Ice-ification from Patience, or even both.

I mean, when we think about it; ‘Rockstar Girl played some really loud music that the Blue Tranch didn’t like’ quite possibly translates to the most insane battle of the entire show. Like on one side we’ve got Patience St. Pim, seasoned Elemental who could already make Ice King look like an amateur, super-charged with elemental energy making her probably the most powerful Ice Elemental in thousands if not millions of years. And on the other side, we’ve got Marceline, consumed and possibly more than half-crazed with rage, fear and desperation to help Bonnie, going ALL-OUT with her numerous vampire powers, possibly some of her demonic powers, all while fighting off the encroaching elemental contamination.

And if ‘The Blue Tranch begged Rockstar Girl to stop and go away’ is anything to go by, I think we can assume that Marcy utterly WRECKED Patience’s SHIT. As in, Patience may well have ended this fight with an axe in her gut, a claw choking the life out her and Marceline threatening to devour her very SOUL if she didn’t tell her how to help Bonnie.

(Here’s another fun thought: Something that notably separates Patience from the other current elementals of Ooo is that whereas Princess Bubblegum, Flame Princess and Slime Princess are all physical manifestations OF their elements (Gum, Fire and Slime, respectively), while Patience is human. Yet when we see her during the arc, she seems to have lost her human body and assumed fully elemental form as well. Now we could of course assume that this is simply due to the elemental overcharge just like the others. Buuuuttt… what if Patience was FORCED to assume this new form because her human body could no longer SURVIVE after the utter THRASHING she received from Marceline?)

Finally, we of course have the end. Something which seems all too easy to imagine even with Marceline’s toning down of events:

Marcy rushing back to the Candy Kingdom as fast as she can. Even though she’s exhausted from her fight with Patience and the days spent fighting off the elemental contamination. To the point where now she can only barely hold it off and maintain her sanity. Perhaps she wonders if this is what it was like for Simon during their time together…

Even though she knows speeding back this fast is only draining her strength faster, but that doesn’t matter to her. Because what matters right now is the trinket, potion, or something or other clutched in her hand that Patience gave her. Something that Marcy can’t be sure will even work. But she hopes it will. That’s the only thing keeping her going, the only thing holding her together at this point.

A blind, desperate HOPE that this will save Bonnie…

When she finally returns to what was once the Candy Kingdom, Marceline finds the massive tower of gum. Perhaps like Finn and Jake later on, Marceline at first isn’t sure what she’s looking at and thinks Bonnie is at the top. So she flies right to the top in a burst of speed that drains her already dwindling strength even further.

And there Marcy finds Bonnie. Or rather, what Bonnie has BECOME. Perhaps she doesn’t even remember Marcy.

Perhaps for Marcy, this is like losing Simon all over again. Except instead of the father who raised and cared for her over ten years, it’s a woman that Marcy has loved for the better part of a millennium. A woman she was only just able to start loving again after so long. But now, just like Simon… she’s gone.

And this realization does what all the elemental power of Ooo could not.

It breaks Marceline.

Just like that, Marceline doesn’t even try to use the ‘antidote’ Patience gave her. Instead, perhaps Marcy gives Bonnie one last kiss and just… accepts the madness.

Because now, at least they can be together.

#adventure time #adventure time rambling #adventure time ketchup #marceline #marceline abadeer #bonnibel bubblegum #princess bubblegum #bubbline #patience st pim #bubbline angst

[laurashapiro-noreally]

Looking for something to read?

Oh look, it's another recs post! This time I'm featuring two stories per author. These are writers I always make time for, whose work stands out as unusually hot, clever, funny, or smart -- sometimes all of the above.

I'm gonna start you out strong with two by @werpiper: After Hours takes Aziraphale and Crowley to the baths after their oyster supper, and all sorts of interesting pleasures are there for our angel to sample. Piper's Crowley is one of my favorites: always evaluating the situation, not quite aware of what his own heart is doing but feeling it anyway.

Fitting In is a new story, still a WIP, but I am utterly tantalized by Muriel's first taste of love -- and tea. This is already rich in detail, soft and fragrant, and I can hardly wait for the action to get going in earnest. The pairing seems surprising but when you think about it for ten seconds of course it makes sense. Sex workers help the curious, the awkward, and the inexperienced every day, bless them.

If you enjoy these, check out @werpiper's back catalog -- they have done a ton of ineffables-through-the-ages, and their series Miracles and Heresy is worth many delightful hours of your time.

I love what @copperplatebeech has been doing lately:

He's Not My Friend is a T-rated story that explores Aziraphale's constant refusal to acknowledge his relationship with Crowley, and Crowley's mirror of that, and how things glacially shift over time. It is subtle and yet specific, it will make you ache and smile.

All Of The Above, also T-rated, is a warm and fuzzy alternative to that, a hilarious celebration of true friendship that made me laugh out loud and still got me right in the feels.

@copperplatebeech can do everything, from quiet, gentle, and romantic to devastating plotty AUs to extraordinarily horny established relationship to absolutely ridiculous humor. Do dive in if you haven't already.

Next up, @cumaeansibyl, master of kink:

better living through technology manages to shove everything I want in a dirty story into less than three thousand words: uptight Aziraphale reduced to sodden wreck, Crowley gleefully showing him what he's been missing, character-driven erotics, and exceptionally funny dialogue.

indulgentiam peccatorum nostrorum is somehow all that and more, turning the "I was wrong" dance into a kink (something I can't get enough of, recs welcome). This one is post-Bastille so it is extra-juicy. Mind the tags!

@cumaeansibyl has a gift for established relationship one-shots, which readers of mine will know are my entire jam. They also have a mind-meltingly hot inverse!omens AU that features different variations of angelic/demonic Crowleys and Aziraphales for our ineffables to play with.

A new-to-me author, Calico, has me hanging by a thread with their Ineffable Romans series. If you want to remember that your ineffables aren't human, that they are inordinately clever but very stupid, that the feelings they have for each other are truly beyond what anyone alive has ever felt, Calico may be the writer for you. This stuff is deep. Also hot af.

Sub Rosa reads like a nasty shag at Petronius', but there's so much more going on here. It is Extremely Queer, driven by power dynamics, and Crowley is fully demonic here and absolutely in control...or is he?

The Intemperance of Liber Pater continues on this theme, with dialogue-driven smut that reads less like a seduction than an inevitability. There's another story in this series, unfinished, and I can't wait to see what happens next.

Last but not least: two short pieces by @ineffabildaddy. I stumbled on their stories just this week and I absolutely love their approach, which I've not seen done quite this way before.

take me as your wife has a tight first-person perspective as Crowley meets Aziraphale for a meal and imagines (or is it his imagination?) that Aziraphale is suggesting Certain Things about how they might occupy themselves later. Indeed, is he suggesting even more? Something about their relationship? Or is it all in Crowley's head?

Only in Dreams is kind of a companion piece, from Aziraphale's point of view -- though hundreds of years later. This one's set after the events of S2 and although just as romantic as take me as your wife, it also offers an ineffable take on the ol' glory hole concept. Just in case you thought I was getting soft. 😏

@ineffabildaddy has a whole series of poems and ficlets like these and I can't wait to explore them all.

#good omens #fic recs #good omens fic recs #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #rare pair #muriel

[dumplingsfordays]

how they kiss you

ft. Dainsleif, Xiao, Diluc, Kazuha, Zhongli

So this is a little thought I had in the car sooo here it goes

Idk why specifically these five, when I open requests I think I'll add some more ;)

Or maybe this is just self-indulgence...

Anyways not proofread!! So sorry for any mistakes, feel free to message me and I'll fix them :))

Reader's gender not specified btw!!

But as always, thank you for reading <3

++++

Dainsleif

This man is such a nervous wreck when he kisses you. Your lips feel so soft against his slightly chapped ones, and his very large and pretty hands feel so perfect around your waist, and everything about you is utterly amazing in his eyes. Dainsleif loves when you run your fingers through his hair, and loves it even more when he's cupping your cheek, pulling you in closer. He's never kissed anyone before, so his first kiss was more of a learning experience than an actual kiss. He's gotten better at it since, and when you're laying on picnic blankets on Starsnatch Cliff together, he always wants to show you how much he loves you by embracing and kissing you.

Xiao

He's very gentle. He treats you with great care, mostly because he loves you so so much, and his kisses definitely reflect that. Some may call them simple, but he knows what he's doing - they're beautiful and tend to convey a lot of emotion. They're delicate and sweet and warm and utterly unforgettable. He really likes kissing you up on Wangsheng Inn's highest balcony at dusk/night, and seeing your pretty face against a backdrop of stars, looking at him with such adoration and love, he feels like he's won at life.

Diluc

Like Dainsleif, I like to think that he never seriously kissed anyone before, just because he's so busy n stuff. He's a little clumsy with it at first - you actually had to teach him - but he's a fast learner, so he picked it up in no time. After a couple weeks, he got so good at it that your knees almost buckled every time you kissed. His kisses are passionate, though - he wants you to know how he feels about you, and he thinks that the best way to express those feelings is through kissing. He loves loves loves when your hands press against his chest when you kiss, it makes him feel so utterly happy that you're here with him.

Kazuha

Such a good kisser. He does it softly, like a chilly breeze on a hot day. It's refreshing, and at the same time it's loving and full of his affection for you. Kissing is his way of letting you know that he's here for you, that he'll be by your side under any circumstances, no matter what happens. Kazuha also likes kissing your wrists for some reason (but hopefully you won't mind). He's sweet with his kisses, too - you can feel his gentle smile as your lips meet. He'll hum into the kiss, and as your hands link together, he wouldn't trade these moments for anything in the world.

Zhongli

Depends on his mood, really. He can be gentle and caring, and peck the tip of your nose before your lips meet. He'll definitely make his love for you known though. He really likes to kiss you like this in the morning, when you both haven't fully woken up yet and it feels like a dream as you two lay side-by-side in bed and relish in each other's warmth.

But his possesive kisses. Whew. Trust me, they are anything and everything you could ever want. They're very passionate, a little rough (he doesn't want to hurt you), and sprinkled in is just the perfect amount of praise and growling. Yes, he growls, he's basically part dragon so it makes sense >:)

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x you #genshin x reader #zhongli #zhongli genshin #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #dainsleif #genshin imagines #genshin dainsleif #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif x you #dainsleif x y/n #dainsleif genshin impact #xiao #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao #xiao genshin impact #kazuha #kazuha genshin impact #kazuha x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc #diluc x reader

[dabisqueen]

Cock, Cum, Balls ˋn Toys

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, heandcanons about Dabi's and Shigaraki's loads of cum, thick balls, girthy cocks – just pure thirsty headcanons. Half the credit goes to @/crumbly-scrombly for writing this with me 💙

(Header by me - it's milk of course...)

His cock

At least 8 inches

Even when it's flaccid its huge (he can do the dick propellor)

The girth is just insane - like the pressure on your pelvis enough to make you cum on the spot once he's fully inserted

You'll definitely have a belly bulge

Slightly curvy, so it's tip grazes the g-spot perfectly

A thick swollen spongy glans

No real thick veins - but the mushroomy tip makes up for that

Pierced of course - a Jacob's Ladder and Prince Albert piercing

You don't need lube with him, he's just naturally dripping with pre

He's trimmed but not shaved (shaving is for pussies)

Perfect happy trail leading up to his thick cock

Cut. And pretty. Has stamina on end.

A really hard throbber

When he cums, he twitches so hard that you just cum again from that alone

His cum

He's the one with the heaviest loads

He fucking floods your wombs with his cum, ain't no way your not gonna get knocked up, this man's a breeding machine

God help you if he takes zinc pills because that'll easily double his cumload

Creamy and thick and it won't easily come out of your cunt after he filled you up good

You're literally gonna still drip hours after being fucked by him

Can cum twice in a row

Has a very intense scent, but still pleasant

It's delicious though – sweet and salty

A bit on the bitter side because of the cigarettes and alcohol

His balls

Not very sensitive

If you gently suck or massage them though he will reward you with even more pre

Really fat because filled to the brim with cum

Nice and heavy, always hang down a bit

Slap against your face when you deepthroat him laying on your back

So huge you won't be able to take both balls into your mouth

Can just suck on one at a time

When he cums they bounce up and twitch with each spurt of cum being released

Toys

Dabi doesn't need any toys. He's all you need to cum. And oh boy is he right

No toy compares to him, his piercings. The way he drags them just right along your sensitive spot

Dabi's got plenty of irl experience, doesn't need porn or toys to show him how things work

But if you ask nicely, he will use them on you

Only to destroy you utterly, leaving you overstimulated and with multiple orgasms having wrecked your body

His cock

Rocks at least 7 inches but GIRTHY AS HELL, regularly needs lube to impale you on it (finds the face you make while he slowly inserts himself hot as hell)

All natural baby – no shaving, no cut, no piercings, just raw cock

He's a grower not a shower

When hard, he curves upward, and when he throbs, his dick looks like it nods

Also has a thick vein on the top

His head is a pretty pink flush against his pale shaft

His cum

It's juicy and watery and he cums loads of it

Feels like he pissed inside you after he came - sheets wet, you're wet, dripping all the way down to the bathroom

Poor man probably needs man pads because he's oozing all the time

His cum doesnt have a strong taste

But his gamer diet makes it really sweet

It's scent isn't very strong either

His balls

They aren't huge, but nice and jiggly

Can take both balls in your mouth

Also, not shaven, so you got something nice n fluffy hanging there

He's very sensitive and will whine when you just gently massage them

Also has a very noticeable happy trail but that's beside the point

Toys

He's the one with the most toys out of everyone you've ever known

Because he had all the time to order them, try them out, watch enough porn movies about them and knows how they all work

Wacking off all the time - at least six times a day

Curiosity always has the better of him, so he continues to order toys, even more so when he has someone else to try them with

He's experimental and when he makes you cum with them, overstimulating you, he feels like the king he is

#dabi smut #shigaraki smut #tomura smut #mha smut #dabi headcanons #dabi hcs #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki hcs #tomura headcanons #mha smut headcanons #dabi smut headcanons #shigaraki smut headcanons #dabi #dabi todoroki #bnha dabi #dabi my hero academia #mha dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #my hero academia shigaraki #tomura shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Shark Baited Ooh La La! Pt. 1

Yandere Goblin Shark Merman x Purple Firefish Merman Reader (CW: Rape, stalking, kidnapping, oviposition, general yandere behavior, rope, biting, male reader, mermen, dacryphilia, a horrible title for which I will not apologize) Word Count: 1.7k (This was not beta read so there may be some minor mistakes. I fully intended to do a gender neutral reader, but unlike a human reader the positions for merfolk sex are more complicated because there is a tail without legs. So I apologize. I do not apologize for the title. I do intend for there to be 1 or 2 more parts to this fic but idk when I will get to them.) Part 2 can be found here: Shark Baited Ooh La La! Pt. 2

You were a purple firefish merman, your entire village existed in a massive wondrous sea cave beneath a coral reef. All manner of glowing shells, stones, and crystals illuminated the vast space, the massive fields of giant aquatic mushrooms (a saltwater variant of Psathyrella aquatica, no doubt) that your people cultivated for food gave off soft light in hues of red, blue and purple. Even your species of merpeople had evolved with shimmering bio-luminescent patterns on your necks, collar bones, and tails.

 And the coral reef above your village was equally beautiful with every color of fish, coral, and seaweed. It was common for your people to spend time hanging out in the reef to enjoy the sun and harvest a lot of your food from here, in a sustainable way of course.  But despite it still being near one of the two main cave entrances and still full of coral and places to hide it was strongly recommended by the elders of the village to never stray to the edge of the reef. And you always listened, but today you saw something shimmering in the distance and you couldn’t resist seeing what it was.  And besides, never once in your entire life had the reef been assaulted or invaded, you could not remember the magical perimeter alarm ever once going off except in scheduled drills. And even if it did go off you could swim back fast, you really wanted to see the shiny bauble that had caught your eyes.  Oh! It was a large shiny gold coin, probably washed up from a human wreck or something. It filled the palm of your hand and you were transfixed admiring the pattern and how it shimmered in the sunlight. You put it in your satchel and realized you were a good bit farther from the cave entrance than you had realized. You were probably even past the perimeter alarm’s radius, you were sure you were safe but… you were still nervous being so near the open water.  You turned to head back but suddenly something grabbed a hold of your arm and pulled you backwards.  “Ha! I knew if I left that gold there it would get your attention eventually!!” It was a rough, deep voice. And the person it belonged to was several feet larger than you. A goblin shark merman! Shoulder length blue hair, blood red eyes, he had a pinkish skin tone, but his arm and tail fins were deep red with blue tips. He grinned at you, showing off his multiple rows of razor sharp teeth. The teeth of a predator. “L-let go of me!!” You flailed, twisted, and turned, but nothing you did could get you free of the muscular shark man’s clawed hand as he pulled you towards him.  “Counter proposal: I don’t let you go and you stop fucking resisting.” He pulled out some rope and, although you struggled, still easily bound your arms behind your back and tied them to your tail making you utterly unable to swim.  “I don’t want to be eaten!!” You thrashed and squirmed as if your life depended on it, because you fully believed that it did.  “Are you stupid? Do you think I would go through all this trouble of baiting you just for food? Stalking you for weeks and learning you like shining baubles then waiting for hours each day for you to notice the coin? I am not going to eat you,” He held you tight against his broad chest and whispered in your ear, “I’m going to fuck you.” “I don’t want that either!!!” You redoubled your efforts to squirm out of the restraints and his grasp.    “Because the ropes really scream “I care what you want” don’t they?” He chuckled as if it were the most natural thing in the world to tie up someone against their will.  You were completely powerless as he pulled you towards the open ocean and away from the only home you had ever known.  On the way he tried to make small talk with you, introducing himself as Damian. You told him your name and he laughed at you, joking that it sounded like a human name.  He must have swam with you in his arms for a couple hours before finally arriving at his den, a small and somewhat secluded sea cave. Your entire body was a limp noodle, exhausted from your increasingly feeble struggles. And your voice was strained from yelling, sobbing, and pleading. He laid you down on his bed, which was half of a hollowed out giant clam shell with a squishy gel-like filling to sleep on.  “I’m glad I finally have a breeding bitch~” He grinned menacingly looking down at you as you lay helplessly in his bed. “You’re so cute, I bet you feel so tight and warm inside don’t cha?” He lay beside you and untied you, but kept you in his ironclad grip.  “C’mere baby boy.” Damian roughly pulled you on top of him, your back to his chest, grinding against your ass as he held you close and licked your cheek, but you were far too exhausted to do much more than weakly squirm in his grasp. Though with his strength you doubted you could do much even at full energy. “You smell so gooood (Y/N). Mmmm. My (Y/N) all mine~” The shark man rubbed his hands all over your body, hungrily exploring every inch of you. Tears were streaming down your cheeks and he slowly licked them up (merfolk tears are not so watery like human tears, they’re more slime like so they would be visible underwater). “Mmm (Y/N) You’re so pathetically adorable when you’re scared~”  You could feel something large, warm, slimy, and hard prod against your asshole as your captor fondled your crotch until your cock slid out.  “Stop! I don’t want this!” You were shaking in fear despite your prick stubbornly betraying you.  “But I do,” Damian growled into your ear. “And you’ll look so cute all knocked up with my eggs!” He nipped your earlobe possessively, careful not to bite too hard. He rubbed his large prick against your hole, smearing viscous precum all over your entrance, his claws digging painfully into your hips. And with no further preparation or stretching or care for your pleasure he dove his dick right into your warm depths. It slid in easily enough with his own homemade lube covering it and your hole, but it hurt. You thrashed to the best of your ability as it felt like you would be split from the inside out.  Damian, however, felt only bliss. Your inner folds were so tight and hot, and he fit you so well, this was proof you were meant to be his property. His baby boy to kiss, and love, and punish, and train, and fuck, and fill to the brim with babies.  “Pl-please stop, it hurts!” Your voice was high, whiny, and strained. Why was this happening to you? You were a decent person, surely you didn’t deserve this brutality.  “I don’t care cutie~ You feel way too good to just stop, just relax and it won’t hurt as much.” Despite his uncaring words he did, very slightly, slow down a bit and thrust a little more gently. Though this may have just been to make sure he didn’t cum too fast.  “Get off of me!” You elbowed him, and although it did nothing to harm or dislodge him out of your hole, it did annoy him.  “JUST LET ME FUCKING ENJOY THIS!,” he snarled as he yanked your hair back with terrifying ferocity and bit into your shoulder, not enough to permanently harm you, but it definitely drew blood. “You’re my cumdump whether or not you like it, and accepting that would make things much easier on you.”  You trembled and sobbed, your shoulder hurting from being bitten, but you didn’t say another word or offer anymore physical resistance. He smiled at your obedience and licked the bite wound comfortingly, all the while still pounding away into your hole. “Such a good boy for me~ I knew you could behave,” The shark cooed into your ear softly before returning to soothing the bite mark with soft kisses.  “For being such a good little bitch for me I’ll make sure you feel good too.” He slowed his pace and made sure to hit your prostate gently as he slowly stroked your cock. Your voice hitched and you whimpered softly, despite your fear and lack of consent your body was all to eager to feel something pleasurable. You instinctively humped into his hand.  “Oh~ You like that don’t you my sweet little dartfish?” He kissed and licked your cheek. “Mmm, so sweet. I love you so much (Y/N), I’ll never let you leave me.” All you could do was whimper in pain and pleasure as all the built up stimulation finally brought you to orgasm into his hand. Damian brought his seed covered hand to his mouth and licked it clean, the salty-sweet flavor taking him over the edge as he slid into you as deeply as he could, stopping his thrusts and shuddering as he deposited several large eggs into you. You gasped as your belly bulged out. He simply held you in that position for a while as he panted before pulling out and flipping you over so that you faced him, holding you close to his chest.  “Fuck I love you (Y/N). I love you. I love you. I love you.” He kissed your forehead after each repetition of his amorous declaration. “You’re my precious little breeding bitch~” Damian pressed his lips to yours and kissed you deeply with unexpected tenderness.  The shark rubbed the side of your tummy and looked at you as if you were the most beautiful site in the world which, to him, you were.  “My eggs are in there. God, (Y/N) you look so nice like this filled up with my babies.” Damian hugged you tightly, pressing you into his chest. The obsessed shark rubbed your back lazily with one hand and cupped your butt with the other, he remained like that for a long time, but eventually his grip loosened when he fell asleep contently.    Now might be your only chance to escape...

#yandere monster #yandere x reader #yandere teratophilia #male yandere x male reader #monster boyfriend #my oc #my oc damian #merman oc #yandere merman #male reader #yandere terato #my OCs

[locklyle-for-a-long-while]

“But now…”

Lockwood is so vulnerable in this moment.

He’s responding directly to what she said just before she stormed away from him and into their house:

“What does it even matter if we end up stabbed, or dead at the bottom of the Thames with nobody left to care?!

This doesn’t feel like winning.”

He stood there stunned, watching her go.

Hours before, he had stood in the same spot near a different taxi, watching her stride towards him in the same blue dress with the wind in her hair. She was a vision. He smiled despite himself.

“So it’s just us”

“Is that alright?” He had asked, as she held his gaze, her smile warming him thoroughly in the chill air, his heart pounding as he held the cab door for her.

There was no smile for him now.

And it was all his fault.

After showering off the river and putting on a fresh set of clothes, he’s had a quiet moment to think about what she said in anger… and how right she was to say it. She has the truth of the matter- he put them in terrible danger and they only barely survived the night. He was so reckless and careless and utterly foolish. The self loathing voice in his head threatens to take over as the weight of it settles on his mind. She’d be right to leave him, to hate him and never forgive him, he thinks, and the thought almost breaks his heart. Self loathing collides with a sense of desperation— she can’t leave me …I need her… I’ve fallen completely and desperately in love with Lucy …and I can’t—I mustn’t— screw this up, …if I haven’t already. He takes a slow breath and gathers himself, mentally rehearsing his apology before finding her in the kitchen.

He struggles through the apology… it’s not enough. The words feel like they’re falling flat and sound hollow in his ears. He moves closer, unsure if that will help but compelled to be close, drawn to her as always.

“I just wanted to say, don’t give up on us— please”

She drops the butter knife and it clangs to the plate.

He knows he’s got it wrong- he’s barely half way to the truth. He moves closer, compelled to see her and desperate to look into her eyes. He turns his body to her, she hesitates, still and waiting.

“Or, what I really should say is… don’t give up on me.”

Now she turns to him, and he’s grateful for it. Though her expression is unreadable, she gives him strength to show her his darkness. It’s her strength now that compels him:

“To be honest the bottom of the Thames used to be a far more appealing place to be.

And really no one would have cared.

But now…”

Is almost a question he poses, it’s so tentative.

There’s so much unsaid after those two words, and he has to believe it’s enough and she already knows the rest:

But now… Now I want to live. Because of you, Lucy. You came along and gave me something to live for.

But now, maybe someone would care if I ended up at the bottom of the Thames. I didn’t dare to think you cared about me, Lucy… but then you went and told me so. It was just before we went into Winkman’s auction earlier that night.

I was frustrated and rash and I said “when my time comes I don’t plan on leaving anyone behind who’s going to stare at that door every night, wishing I would just walk through it one more time”

And then you stopped me in my tracks:

“Well you should have never let me in, or George, because now it’s far too late.”

And that left me speechless.

So yes, I can say something as profound and crazy as “but now…” because I dare to believe you, Lucy. I have to try to believe you, to believe that I matter to someone. To two people even, my best friends that I love dearly and one that I love so deeply that it terrifies me.

“But now…”.

Silence. I have no more words. And I hope it’s enough.

I can only stare into her eyes, totally at her mercy, waiting for whatever she might say next …fully knowing it can break me. But what else can I do. I’m wrecked for her. And I’m a complete idiot and we both know it and she’d be right to reject my apology, to reject me. I stand with bated breath, looking into her beautiful eyes not daring to hope for forgiveness.

“Grenadier guard or policeman”

I exhale.

A wave of relief floods through my chest as the tension I didn’t know I held is released. I struggle to stand composed, this close to her while I’m taken by a flood of gratefulness and love for this fierce and brilliant girl who has —and forever will have— my heart.

#locklyle #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #lockwood and co #save lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #locknation #renew lockwood and co

[serendipitouscontaminant]

SORRY I’M GOING TO BE INTOLERABLE ABOUT THIS I AM GOING TO BE UTTERLY ABNORMAL MY CROPS ARE WATERED MY HEART IS BUOYED BY THE JOY OF FRIENDSHIP

I just know that this whole time, even as Jacob’s been growing on Gregory, Gregory has been holding back, has been telling himself that no, he’s not going to reward this annoying behavior. He keeps most people at arm’s length like it’s his job, so why should he even vaguely entertain this desperate desire for friendship for any other reason than the fact that this person he really cares about just happens to care about Jacob too?

And he’s right, of course he’s right. He’s not obligated to even like Jacob, and definitely not obligated to be his friend. We’ve seen many times that Jacob has a lot of faults, up to and including a bad habit of making himself everyone’s problem.

But fine, Gregory will fully admit it: Gregory likes Jacob anyway. He’s Gregory’s friend anyway. So, feeling unmoored and needing support, Gregory knows who he is willing to turn to for that support, and he decides to just…let this friendship breathe.

He is the one who offers a hug first! Even if it’s awkward, that means so much! The first time Jacob ever met Gregory, he tried to hug him, which, understandably, Gregory found weird and off-putting. He didn’t even know the guy. But now he does, and when he wants to communicate that he genuinely appreciated Jacob, he doesn’t go with a dubious “thank you,” he invites a hug, which we’ve never seen him do before, so he could’ve just…not done that. Jacob was impressively cool about it, but it doesn’t seem like he expected it.

And the thing is that it seems unlikely to me that Gregory, chronic overthinker, occasional unwilling study of human character, doesn’t know that outright offering a hug will cement in Jacob’s head that they’re totally besties, which means he doesn’t care if Jacob gets the wrong idea. Which means he doesn’t really think he’s actually giving him the wrong idea.

And then! Then he accepts another hug, because you know what? He needs one. And he is the one who goes for the full hug because he knows he can, he knows it’ll be okay! He trusts Jacob enough to communicate to Jacob himself that yeah, they do have a connection and he appreciates it and wants it to continue!

He lets himself lean on his friend.

Meanwhile, Jacob lets himself be redirected without feeling shut down or being shut down. He matches Gregory’s energy, realizes that he doesn’t have to try so hard. That he has things to offer Gregory and he doesn’t have to shove them at him, he can just show him. He can just be who he is, and demonstrate that he accepts Gregory for who he is. That his liking Gregory isn’t performance—he genuinely enjoys him. Jacob calms down, and he’s exactly what Gregory needs.

This time, Jacob doesn’t threaten to scream, and Gregory never tries to walk away.

I’m wrecked, I’m walking on air, this is everything to me, I reiterate that I am NOT normal about this in any possible way.

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary spoilers #gregory eddie #jacob hill #this is ridiculous and soppy but it took me like an hour to write #i love hugs #not irl #in fiction #i REALLY love hugs in fiction #long post #does anyone care about my abbott friendship thoughts? almost certainly not #still i inflict them #yes i have been ruminating about gregory indirectly telling janine he likes jacob since story samurai

[anon-e-miss]

Extreme Penetration

“Sloppy little slut,” Jazz crooned as he fragged Prowl from behind.

Prowl nodded his helm, jaw hanging open as he bounced on his Dom’s twin spikes. His wells shook with the force of the frag. Three digits from Jazz’s right servo were buried in his sheath, vibrating hard. There was a camera train on him; Jazz was keen to share his work with his twin. He had inflated the protoform around the edge of Prowl’s sheath as he had Prowl’s aft valve and he had added a biolight above it, mimicking the look of a valve. Because Ricochet was in Polyhex he could not be at the club this dark-cycle, when Jazz debuted his extensive work on their latest sub’s frame. If Prowl had been capable of thought, he might have been wary of being put on show but all he could think of was getting fragged.

“When the vorn’s up, y’ain’t gonna even think o’ goin’ back to yer old life,” the Dom promised him as he painted Prowl’s aching nozzles with cinnabar. “Not after a vorn o’ bein’ a spoiled fragtoy.”

Jazz had him plugged with huge toys to showcase how completely he had ruined the infamously cinched size queen. Doms and subs both explored Jazz’s hard work and Prowl moaned around the latest spike to be pushed between his swollen lipplates. A number of the Doms had fragged him before, had done their best to ruin him only for Prowl to reset his valve and aft pipe as soon as they had pulled out, before walking off unbothered. They marvelled at how thoroughly Jazz had moulded Prowl to his pleasure. Someone played with Prowl’s new piercing and he might have gushed with arousal if the plug had not been so huge.

“He cums so easy,” Jazz declared, pinching Prowl’s node as he pulled the plug from his valve. He rolled it between his digits until Prowl overloaded so hard that his lubricants splattered on the floor. “Really, he’s so easy to please.”

Someone scoffed and Prowl was too addled by his overload to recognize who. Thwack, thwack. Prowl’s vision cleared as someone settled between his thighs and began rutting over him. He felt nothing save for the smack of the mech’s array against his swollen folds. Chromedome grunted and Prowl made rolled his optics and made a face, utterly bored with his ex Dom’s paltry efforts. Seeing his expression, Chromedome scowled and he renewed his efforts but Prowl yawned with disinterest. Jazz chortled as Chromedome pulled out, spike wilting to the laughter of all those observing.

“Bored, Pet?” Jazz asked as he leaned over Prowl.

“Terribly,” Prowl replied. There was another roar of laughter.

“I’ll give ya what ya need,” Jazz promised.

What Prowl needed, in the Dom’s figuring was to be skewered on his spikes, valve and sheath knotted as Jazz played with his aft. Prowl wailed with overload as those knots tormented his nodes and biolights and a long vibrating want was pressed against his transfluid duct. He was an absolute wreck by the time Jazz pulled out and decreed it was time to go home. His holes were too loose, even with his inflated rims to keep the mess inside of him and it dribbled down his legs. Jazz took Prowl to the wash racks, and cleaned him out with several enemas. Prowl’s glossa was lulled from his mouth by the end of it. It was still not really the end.

“Ya like the feelin’ o’ bein’ popped, don’t ya,” Jazz asked as he had Prowl splayed on the table, legs strapped to stirrups and splayed wide apart.

“Yes,” Prowl confirmed, optics rolled back as Jazz fragged him with his digits. Since Jazz had taken him for his sub, Prowl had not felt that unique agonizing pleasure though he had felt knew agonies and loved them well.

“‘M makin’ a few changes,” Jazz explained as he inserted a want in Prowl’s valve and activated a machine. Prowl moaned as he felt in pull on his valve’s lining, cinching his valve down tight.

“Oooh,” he moaned as it cinched him tight and the narrow wand felt suddenly huge.

“Tight like a minibot,” Jazz declared. He took the wand out of Prowl and preceded to frag him with a single digit. Prowl watched it disappear between his garish fold and groaned at how full that single digit made him. His little, truly little, valve gushed as it rippled. “Next ‘m gonna do yer aft.”

Jazz did as he said he would and he cinched Prowl’s aftpipe down to a similar tightness as he had his valve, but left the large rosebud he had created before. Prowl had never been cinched so narrow. Even when he had been a purus and had first lost his seals, he had never been this tight. The Dom played with Prowl’s newly tightened holes with narrow toys and digits, making Prowl squirm with aching pleasure. Three digits stretched his tightened valve and Prowl gasped at the ache. As soon as Jazz withdrew his digits, Prowl’s valve tightened immediately, all on it’s own. His optics went wide.

“As long as I want it, yer gonna cinch up tight the nanoklik I pull out,” Jazz told him. “Y’re gonna feel like a tight lil purus each time I frag ya. Just like how ya like it.”

Prowl sobbed as Jazz slowly stretched his tightly cinched valve with his digits until he was just loose enough for the tip of Jazz’s upper spike to breach him. It was agony and Prowl whited out as his lining clung to the Dom’s spike as it carved him open. He stared as his swollen rim was taunt around Jazz’s monstrous spike, as he bore deeper and deeper into his small channel. All the while, a drone filmed the scene and as the camera filmed, Jazz’s knot swelled. In all his vorns of hedonism, Prowl had never ached so deeply or so well. His rim strained like it never had before and there was an audible pop when it lodged inside of Prowl’s aching centre. Immediately, Prowl’s valve tightened, moulding to the intrusion and Jazz and Prowl both groaned.

Jazz had not been wrong. More than a vorn after they had signed the contract, Prowl had no thought of returning to his old life. He had few thoughts at all beyond the aches, agonies and ecstasy his Doms met out to him. His belly was round with the bitlet Jazz had sired on him before Ricochet and Barricade returned. Now that they had, Jazz was pleased to share his great work with his twin as he got reacquainted with Barricade. Everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

#valveplug #maccadams #long post #tf prowl #tf jazz #tf ricochet #tf barricade #extremem penetration #dom/sub

[dinogoose]

it’s been a long time coming, but (it’s you and me)

Suddenly words are falling out of Buck’s mouth faster than he can catch them,

“Marry me.”

Eddie spins around so quickly Buck’s worried he gave himself whiplash.

“What?”

“What?” Buck parrots, attempting to play dumb.

(or, a buddie friends to fiances, in the kitchen of course.)

Eddie’s humming a tune Buck vaguely recognizes. Buck is pretty sure it was the song playing on the radio when they took Chris to school this morning.

The brunet's back is turned to his, as he expertly hand-washes a knife. Eddie may be a wreck while cooking but that man takes pride in his cleaning skills, and rightfully so.

Buck is leaning over the counter just watching him, enjoying being in the mere presence of Eddie (the love of his life).

The sun's setting, casting a glow throughout the kitchen. Eddie’s face in particular is now radiant, causing the already gorgeous man to be ethereal.

Buck wishes he could stay here, in this moment forever.

Watching Eddie sway as he happily cleans, surrounded by the warmth that lives inside the Diaz’ home, the only place Buck feels truly safe in.

They had the day off, choosing to spend it together. Eddie dragged Buck along to all the mundane places he didn’t want to go to alone, the grocery store, the pharmacy, and even the bank- where Buck had stolen a huge handful of lollipops. (He considered it compensation)

If it meant being with Eddie, Buck would do every boring task or chore in existence.

So here he is, watching Eddie do the dishes.

The rhythmic movement of his hands, scrubbing back and forth, the whir of the dishwasher, just all of it makes Buck feel at peace.

Maybe too at peace, because Buck wants to confess every little secret that has been living under his skin. Every word that has never made it past his lips. He wants to tell Eddie everything.

And, because of this peace, suddenly words are falling out of Buck’s mouth faster than he can catch them,

“Marry me.”

The words startle Eddie as he drops the knife he was cleaning, it clattering loudly in the sink, then the man spins around so quickly Buck’s worried he gave himself whiplash.

“What?”

“What?” Buck parrots, attempting to play dumb.

“You just-“ Eddie shakes his head, his expression showing things that Buck couldn’t even begin to name. “You said ‘Marry me’.”

To Buck, Eddie’s words sound like an accusation (a fair one) but they also sound like a desperate plea. As if Eddie wants as much as Buck does.

Eddie’s hands are still wet, and steadily dripping onto the floor, which distracts Buck for a second, before he focuses back on Eddie’s face.

“No, that doesn’t sound like something I’d say.” He deflects, blatantly lying. Eddie gives him his patented ‘You’re an idiot’ stare.

“Buck you just said it, I heard you, you’re standing five feet away. Why did you say that?” Buck looks away from Eddie, his face hot.

“Why?” Eddie repeats, stepping closer to Buck.

Buck turns back to him, his gaze pointed over Eddie’s shoulder, “Well marriage is a legally recognized union between two people. It’s actually derived from a Latin word-“

“Buck.” Eddie scolds, arms crossed across his chest defensively. Although Buck can see a tiny hint of a smile on his handsome face.

“Okay fine.” He takes a deep breath, moving fully into Eddie’s space. “I love you, and I think you should marry me.”

Big brown eyes search his own. Buck knows he will find complete sincerity, because despite how utterly insane this request is, Buck fully means it.

Yes, maybe proposing before they’ve even been on one date is… abnormal (Unhinged, bonkers, loony, take your pick), but Buck can’t help it. He doesn’t want to just be Eddie’s boyfriend. He wants to be Eddie’s eternal partner. His husband. A stepfather to his son. The man he falls asleep with and wakes up to each and every day.

And Buck’s pretty damn sure Eddie wants that too. (At least he hopes so, otherwise, this might destroy him)

Eddie’s now scrutinizing him, eyes pinched together, nose scrunched. Buck thinks he looks positively kissable- though when does he not -, but he feels this may be the wrong time to point that out.

“You think I should marry you? That’s all you got?” Eddie challenges, his expression is more open now, happier, which is making Buck feel brave.

Buck reaches out to hold both of Eddie’s hands in his.

“Edmundo Diaz, you and Christopher are the two greatest things to ever happen to me. Every day you make me better, and being in your life is an honor I cherish. I am so grateful to be your friend, your partner, and I would be the luckiest man on earth if you agreed to marry me.” He punctuates his final point by kissing each of Eddie’s hands, which makes the older man chuckle.

Eddie sighs, long and hard as if he’s put off by Buck’s impromptu proposal, “Yeah okay, I’ll marry you.”

Before Buck has a chance to yell from the rooftops, Eddie adds,

“But-” Buck freezes, “-I want a redo proposal, one that includes Chris.” There’s finality in his tone, showing above all Eddie’s dedication to his son.

Buck loves that about him. Loves every part of Eddie. He loves all the broken, jagged parts of Eddie in the same way he loves the beautiful shiny parts. Because his love for Eddie has no bounds, and never will. Their souls are tethered together.

“Of course Eds, this is something that includes him, he’s my family, and if he said no then I wouldn’t push it I promise” The blonde promises him, Eddie’s eyes shine with fondness as he squeezes Buck’s hands.

“I know you wouldn’t. And he won’t say no, he loves you. I love you.”

Buck finally, finally, closes the gap between them, their lips coming together for a chaste kiss. A chaste kiss quickly turns to something deeper when Eddie drops his hands in favor of cupping Buck’s jaw.

The dishwasher is still running behind them, the setting sun spilling in through the curtains, and occasionally a car passes by, although Buck registers none of this anymore because Eddie’s lips are on his.

Buck can taste the beer he had earlier on his tongue, and feel the drag of Eddie’s stubble against his chin. He wants to drown in it.

Which isn’t an option because Eddie pulls back.

Buck whines attempting to chase him, “Come on can’t I kiss my fiancé?” He pleads, but Eddie just laughs before shoving him away.

“No, because I have to finish these dishes before we get our son from robotics. And you should go switch over the laundry.” He’s leaning away as he says this, and Buck already misses his warmth.

“So bossy.” Buck grumbles.

“This is just the beginning of bossy, my husband-to-be.” Eddie winks, sauntering back over to the sink.

Buck grins, completely elated, “Can’t wait.”

(hope you enjoyed! :] see you soon)

#buddie fic #buddie #911 fic #911 show #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tv: 911 #911 fanfic #buddie 911 #buck x eddie #fic

[finethingswellworn]

So my two favorite shows are being discussed in conjunction with each other and now I'm trying to figure out why the ending to Good Omens 2 has left me significantly more distraught than Our Flag Means Death.

They ended in similar places, after all. And Our Flag went much, much darker with it's main character's breakdown. (Lucius going over the side and the toe scene, anyone?) So... why did Good Omens completely wreck me, then?

Both shows have comedic and dramatic elements. Both end on a somber note, with our beloved leads separated and pining. Both shows have a critical lack of communication and a tragic misunderstanding between the two partners where one (or both) assume what the other wants or is feeling, directly leading to their falling out.

Well, I think it's because the conflict between Aziraphale and Crowley is so much deeper and more irrevocable than that of Stede and Ed. Or it feels that way.

Stede doesn't fully realized his love for Ed, not until he's separated from him, until Mary describes what it's like. And then he finally gets it. Immediately he comes up with a scheme to get himself declared dead so that by the end of the season, we, the audience, as well as Stede know that there's no more ties to his old life keeping him. He's free to pursue Ed and win his love and trust back again. I've written on here a lot about the complications they're going to have settling into their life together. It's going to be a long, rocky road. I am ABSOLUTELY NOT trying to minimize that. It most certainly will be. And a painful one, too, more than likely.

But between Stede's realization of his newfound love and Ed's miserable tears at the end of ep10, the viewer knows that it's only a matter of time before Stede tracks Ed down and makes his true feelings known. And only a matter of time before Ed forgives him.

But the sting in the Good Omens finale isn't that our two main characters are or ever were unsure of how the other feels about them. It's clear to me that they've known at least since 1941, even if they've had ups and downs since then. The care, the devotion, the love is not really what's in question here and that makes it a million times more difficult to resolve because there's no easy assurances either of them can give to mend the breach. It's that they have reached an insurmountable impasse as to how they can be together.

Good Omens fans have said for a long, long time that Aziraphale and Crowley FEEL married. And i see their issues in season 2 as the culmination of many, many things left unsaid and unresolved for so long that they "inevitably end in a (metaphorical) divorce. It's the constant push/pull of tension lying just below the surface of their relationship that neither really want to face head on.

And it's so utterly gut-wrenching because we are essentially witnessing two beings who love each other more than anything else in the universe watch each other make choices that they believe will ruin them and their relationship and there's nothing either of them can do to change the other's mind. Seeing loved ones make terrible choices and being unable to stop them is one of the most painful fucking things in the universe. Knowing that they will be unhappy, knowing that they will suffer, knowing that if they would only reach out you would be right there to help them but also knowing that it's far, far too late to help now... knowing that they would refuse your help even if you confront them about the danger they are in... that's what that ending was.

And both Crowley and Aziraphale feel that way.

Of course, Aziraphale thinks Crowley has needlessly chosen to damn himself and their relationship and doomed himself to be unhappy for ever. And Aziraphale remembers how happy Crowley was as an angel. Why is he purposefully choosing unhappiness when it's wholly unnecessary? He's watching the love of his existence condemn himself a second time. It's devastating to him.

But Crowley knows the truth about heaven and the angels. He also knows just how unhappy Aziraphale will be in heaven. And he's helpless to stop him from going. He can't and won't force him to stay. He never has and never will. He waits. He always, always waits, watches from afar as the other angels mistreat his angel over and over and over. And he doesn't understand. He's so, so angry that Aziraphale would go back to them but there's nothing he can do. Not anymore.

How can you love someone so much and still misunderstand them so fundamentally after so very long? How can two beings want the exact same thing and still hurt each other? How can ideology and indoctrination so effectively manage to drive a wedge between two people who have one-hundred percent trust in each other? How is that possible?

Those are the questions Good Omens Season 2 asks.

And it doesn't give us any answers to these questions. Not yet. Because true love is not enough in this case. A confession from either party is not enough. Both characters knowing how they feel is not enough and accepting it is not enough.

So what would be enough? What could fix this? I honestly don’t know. 

That's why it hits so hard.

So, even though Good Omens will probably end with the Ineffables happily living together (I can't see it ending any other way,) there is a distinct lack of hope or optimism for the future in the season 2 ending that Our Flag somehow manages to retain.

#GOS2 spoilers #good omens #good omens two spoilers #our flag means death #good omens season two #this is me trying to make sense of my own feelings not necessarily how everyone will feel about it

[separatist-apologist]

Time, Curious Time

And isn't it so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me

Summary: Briar just barely survived the war with Hybern and his terrible camp. All she wants is a little peace…especially from her dreams. Nightmares plague her, urging her to return to the place that tormented her.

What lies beyond that woodland threatens to reshape Prythian and Briar?

Well, she's right in the middle of it

for @ladynestas (who also made the moodboard)

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

One day stretched to a week before Tamlin managed to make it back home. Bruised, aching, and bloodied, Tamlin marched all the soldiers he could wrangle back to the barracks and banished the rest on pain of death. It was, for the moment, a hollow promise. He didn’t have enough troops to enforce his border on all sides, and Autumn had to be the priority. He was banking on word of mouth sending him more restless men that could be trained and reshaped from mercenaries to soldiers. Others, from six other courts, would come as well hoping for new opportunities and a fresh start. Tamlin meant to give it to them. 

He returned to a surprise. The estate looked better than he’d ever seen it–pre war or otherwise. It still had those tangling vines curling over the outside marble but stepping inside was like walking into a time machine. Tamlin almost called out for his mother, certain it must have been her who’d left the massive vase of purple and blue hydrangeas on either side of the flung open double doors. 

Everything smelled like vanilla and sugar. Rugs had been placed over once cracked black and white marble floors, breaking up the slick surface to create warmth. The windows and walls were repaired, hanging with art and more flowers. The draping greenery was what made his chest ache. He stared at the sweeping stairs that led upwards, creating a curtain of vines that skimmed the floor beneath. His mother had loved that, had reprimanded him and his brothers when they’d yank a vine down while passing through. 

Tamlin followed the sweet scent through the estate, expecting to find Briar in the kitchen. Who else, he thought in a daze? 

Servants. They all went still when they saw him, before dropping into polite, stammering bows. They weren’t the only ones in the estate. Lucien had been busy, it seemed. Housekeepers flurried about, likely responsible for the now restored home he stood in. There were servants on the grounds and in the half-finished garden and then there was Briar. Standing on the back patio in a gown of shimmering green, her dark hair half swept off her face, Tamlin was utterly wrecked at the sight of her. Lady of Spring. His mate. 

She was looking at someone, one delicate eyebrow arched in irritation. A moment later Lucien stepped into view, rubbing the back of his neck apologetically. 

“Well?” she said, hands on slim hips. Tamlin, pulled by strings, couldn’t help but walk into her orbit. “Are you going to apologize?”

“No,” Lucien said with exasperation, “because it was a rabbit.”

“Say you’re sorry, Lucien,” Tamlin snapped, irritated Lucien wouldn’t make Briar happy. She was Lady of Spring, after all. Even if she didn’t know it. 

Lucien narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated but Tamlin didn’t care. Briar turned to face him fully, her rosy lips parting with a smile. She stepped forward and flung her arms around his neck, drowning him in her pretty, honeyed hyacinth scent. 

“Welcome home,” Lucien said dryly. 

Tamlin’s whole body reacted without him ever meaning to, pressing into her warm body as he hugged her back. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, wanted to drag his tongue over the side of her neck, wanted to—

Lucien cleared his throat and Tamlin stepped back, embarrassed to be caught half hard from just a polite hug. 

“Show him what you found,” Lucien prompted, unaware of how deeply jealous Tamlin was of the week they’d spent together. What had Lucien learned about her? He’d sworn not to tell a word of Briar’s existence to Rhysand when Tamlin hastily called him back. The lack of an Archeron sister told him that Lucien hadn’t been successful convincing Night Court she ought to be allowed to join him. 

Briar pulled him from his thoughts, grabbing his hand and taking him into the estate again. Gone, apparently, was the sobbing female on the lawn. That person had been replaced with the pink cheeked Briar leading him up the stairs to his bedchamber where she was blessedly still sleeping. Only just outside the door did she halt.

“Is this your bedchamber?” she asked him, hand on the door hesitantly.

He wanted to say yes just to see if she’d invite him in. 

“No,” he replied. It was a roundabout truth—it was her bedchamber, too. 

Pacified, Briar pulled open the door so he could see all the little touches she’d made. Their scents mingled here in the most erotic way, causing his knees to nearly buckle. She’d draped pretty, sheer curtains over the bed to create a soft canopy and where his work table had once been, she’d replaced it with a vanity. Her clothes all hung in the open armoire and though she’d kept his sheets and duvet, a pale pink blanket was neatly folded over the end of the bed. He could picture her beneath it.

He could picture her doing a lot of things in that bed. 

“Look,” she breathed, crouching against the cream and sage rug. “I found kittens.”

Tamlin stared at the two teeny, white furred faces. They blinked sleepy, blue eyes at him. Recognizing him as an intruder, both immediately offered soft hisses as a greeting and the second stretched out a little clawed hand as if to shove him away.

“Aren’t they lovely?” she asked breathlessly. 

Feral, more like it. He supposed that was her type. Feral beasts were attracted to Briar and she couldn’t help but try and tame them. He tried to stretch a hand and scratch the politer one's ear and earned a vicious cut on his finger for his trouble.

“Charming,” he grumbled, sucking the hurt between his lips. 

“This one is Petunia,” she said, her voice softening as if she were speaking to a baby. “And this is Tulip, because of the little spot on her nose. Do you see it?”

He nodded, though all he saw was wet pink. Tamlin was still lost in the fantasy of her speaking to a child that way, soothing and motherly. 

Thanking the Mother that Briar didn’t understand the shift in his scent, he offered her a smile. “You’re feeling more comfortable in Spring?”

She nodded her head. “Did you write to Viviane?”

Cursing internally, he was forced to admit he hadn’t. “I forgot. I apologize, I ah—”

“No,” she said breathlessly, dropping to her knees so quickly Tamlin’s whole mind emptied out. She set her kittens back in a soft bed she’d procured from Cauldron knew where, and rose to her feet again. “I was going to say that I’d like to stay. It’s close to home and Lucien has been helping me with my magic. We tried winnowing, even.”

“Oh?” Lucien, so fucking helpful. 

“It went badly,” she added ruefully. “But I can do more than just kill plants, now.”

“You always could,” he replied, a touch too defensively. He’d been daydreaming about her patch of daisy’s since she left. Centuries of careful breeding had left his family line more animal than anything. His mother had lamented their lack of connection to the land more than once. He could remember sitting in her lap as she stroked his hair, telling him of a once great ancestor who had caused whole forests to rise. 

She wasn’t alive to see him breed it back in. 

“On purpose,” she clarified, sliding her arm through his as he walked her back towards the door. “Lucien is really helpful, actually. He’s been explaining the courts to me and he taught me to dance—”

A growl slipped from his throat without warning, silencing her when all he wanted was to hear her speak. She looked up, wide-eyed and Tamlin was forced to apologize again.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, unsure how to explain why he’d done it to begin with.

“You should rest,” she decided, pulling away when all he wanted was for her to stay. “I’m taking up all your time.”

“Hardly,” he murmured, catching her hand before she could wholly flee. He pressed her palm to his lips, eyes fluttering shut at the sweet, salty taste of her. “It’s time I freely give.”

She sucked in a soft breath. Tamlin would have given anything for her to feel the snap then, though he doubted she’d know what it meant or what to do about it. At least she’d know. It would be enough. He could court her without this secret hanging between them. He felt like a bastard even then, kissing her when he had no indication she wanted that sort of thing at all. 

He dropped her hand. Briar, utterly sweet and wholly uncertain, nodded back towards the door.

“Rest,” she murmured. “Everything here is fine…ish.”

“Fineish?” he repeated dumbly.

“I’ll let Lucien explain it,” she said awkwardly, taking a healthy step backwards. “It’s not my place.”

Of course, it was, given he meant to install her as his lady and yet he couldn’t tell her that. He huffed in frustration, trailing after her, eyes latched on the sway of her hips. Briar was blissfully unaware, peeling off in the opposite direction while Tamlin made his way back to Lucien lounging in the study just like old times.

It wasn’t old times, though. There was an immediate tightness to Lucien’s features when he saw Tamlin. Knife in hand, Lucien picked at his fingernails, his booted feet reclined on the coffee table in front of him. Bored nobility. Tamlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As if he didn’t know all Lucien’s little tricks.

“Briar says things aren’t totally fine?” he began, snapping the door shut behind them. Lucien scoffed.

“Did you think a week was enough to undo three years of neglect?”

“Tell me what happened?”

Tamlin dropped into the chair flanking the mantle. It was the very same room he’d once yelled at not just Lucien, but Feyre too. Unaware they were manipulating him, he’d been at his wits end over that bogge attack on Hybern’s emissaries. They’d threatened to undo everything and Tamlin, drowning at that point, had taken out his frustrations on the people he loved.

Look what it had gotten him. 

“It’s exactly as I said. The nobility has been ruling in your stead and they like the power. I warned you there would be an attempted coup. They’re combining their forces. Some of them are aligning with Autumn. You have a civil war on your hands.”

Tamlin snarled in fury. “I’ll kill them all.”

Lucien’s amused smile was edged with cruelty. “And then what?”

“Choose new nobility, like we should have done two hundred years ago.” When Lucien had first come to court, Tamlin had been toying with the idea already. He couldn’t stand how two-faced so many of them were. The backstabbing, the lying, the gossiping…all of it exhausted it. He’d only tabled the idea because Lucien was so skilled at playing them against each other.

“You could always ask for help,” Lucien began, the fucking fox faced bastard. “But it’ll cost you.”

Tamlin was certain Rhysand would love nothing more than to sweep in his bastard general and their winged army and clean out spring. “I’ve paid enough.”

“Then you’re on your own,” Lucien replied succinctly. “You’ll have to hope whatever show of strength you’re gathering is enough to scare them.”

Tamlin hesitated. “What if we paid them a visit?”

Lucien’s smile widened. “What if, indeed?”

BRIAR: 

Tamlin and Lucien left early that morning. Lucien was grinning ear to ear while Tamlin merely grimaced. Whatever they were doing, she was certain she didn’t want to know. She was learning, slowly, what made the fae tick. She’d mostly been studying the servants as they trickled in looking for work. Lucien had paid them all upfront, likely out of his own pockets, though she couldn’t prove that, and didn’t want to assign Lucien an unnecessary generosity. 

Once they were in the house, it seemed they had two primary goals—fuck and fight, in whatever order that could achieve them. They worked, of course, but when they weren’t it seemed they lived for blood and sex. She imagined Lucien and Tamlin weren’t much different, and she wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Lucien, at least, had a mate. He’d told her all about Elain. Elain and her perfect hair and her soft eyes. Lucien practically waxed poetic about a female that didn’t seem to want anything to do with him. It was her human manners that kept her from saying so, though privately, Briar didn’t blame Elain. Lucien was so smug, so self-satisfied. A prick, really. The unmarried, unmated females chased after him and Briar knew Lucien liked the attention. Had he not had a mate, she imagined she would have caught him in the barn with some females skirt flipped up over her head. 

She’d also heard the gossip while Tamlin was gone. She’d just assumed the war had hit spring hard, and that was the reason for the destruction. For Tamlins guilt. To find out it was over another High Lords mate made her wonder what kind of male Tamlin really was. The kiss he’d placed against her hand had confused her—everyone swore he was still pining after the High Lady of Night. 

Freed of her responsibility to the house, Briar bounced to the garden, halting at the sight of two unfamiliar faces. The first was male—golden skin, onyx black hair and eyes so blue they seemed to glow violet in the moody morning light. The other was female—golden brown hair, soft brown eyes, and a pinched expression that only deepened when she saw Briar. Briar recognized her. This was Elain Archeron and they had met, once, during the war. Elain had saved her life. Did Elain remember? 

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Where is Lucien Vanserra?” his rumbling, amused voice asked. 

Briar crossed her arms over her chest. “Out. Why?”

His smile widened. “When will he be back?”

As if she knew. Briar shrugged petulant shoulders. “When he returns, I suppose. I could always tell him a…” she dragged her eyes up and down that males body, “friend dropped by, if you like.” Beside him, Elain glanced upwards, her outrage plain. 

“No need. I trust he knows where and how to find me. This is Elain Archeron. She’s come to help.”

Maybe it was petty, to look at Elain and her obvious unhappiness. Lucien had never said why she didn’t want to be mates and though Briar felt no real ounce of affection for Lucien, he had been kind. He’d helped her with her magic in his mocking, annoying way. Surely he deserved better than this display? 

“We don’t need help.”

Elain’s eyes widened at the dismissal. Beside her, the male laughed. 

“Is that so?” he chuckled. 

“I’m here to help with the garden,” Elain added, as if she needed to make it plain she wasn’t there for Lucien at all.

“No need,” Briar pressed, wondering if Lucien would kill her for this. He certainly wanted her, if his sad ramblings about her beauty were anything to go by. And Elain was beautiful, in a spoiled, snotty kind of way. Strangely perfect for smug, arrogant Lucien now that Briar reflected on it. 

Rhysand’s smile faded. “If Lucien doesn’t want her, he can bring her back. Otherwise, Elain stays. Unless…” his smile widened again, nostrils flaring. He inhaled deeply. “Unless there is a new Lady of the Spring Court whose authority I ought to yield to?”

Briar immediately backed down. Stupid, not to recognize him for what he was. Another High Lord, one that she was openly challenging. He was right—she wasn’t Lady of Spring. She was merely Tamlin’s guest, a member of his household. 

Briar nodded her head, amusing the High Lord of Night further. 

“How fun,” he murmured. 

He vanished in a cloud of star-flecked night, leaving Briar to face down the female she’d just rebuffed. It was awkward. Elain shifted from one foot to the other until Briar couldn’t stand another second of it. At least Lucien spoke. 

“You want to help in the garden?” Briar asked. Irritation and curiosity warred over Elain’s features until finally curiosity won out. 

“I’ve been working on it this week,” Briar explained, gesturing for Elain to follow. “But it’s slow going. You’ll see why.”

Briar had done a decent job de-weeding but it was taking her forever. The garden was at least as large as her village and utterly overgrown, crumbling, and maybe even ruined. More than once, Lucien had bemoaned how beautiful it had once been, for all the good that did her now. She didn’t know why she was so obsessed with fixing it in the first place. It was just a garden, hardly anything special at all.

Elain gasped softly when she saw the swath of wretched land before them. “It’s worse than I imagined.”

Briar nodded, anxiety creeping through her stomach. Fingers twisting in front of her body, she said, “I’ve been doing my best, but…”

Reaching for a ribbon tied around her wrist, Elain Archeron swept back her hair into a neat ponytail. She moved with such an easy elegance, so utterly faerie that Briar felt nothing but undiluted jealousy in that moment. Elain was supposed to be like her, right? All three Archeron’s were and yet to hear Lucien tell it, they’d assimilated quite easily.

It’s only been a week, she reminded herself. Still, it felt like another shortcoming. She hadn’t fit as a human, she didn’t fit as faerie. Briar swallowed those feelings, just as she always did, because it was clear Elain wanted to get started. Briar didn’t want to dump her personal feelings into a stranger. 

Everyone is a stranger. 

There was no one to tell. 

Elain was surprisingly adept at gardening and when Briar took her to the shed, Elain attached the project with clinical efficiency. Briar had declined both gloves and a spade in favor of her hands. She’d been embarrassed to show Elain her magic given the way Elain stared, mouth parted, eyes wide.

Elain offered soft appreciation before taking her corner of the patch they’d be working in. Forgiven, perhaps, but Briar’s earlier pettiness hadn’t been forgotten. That was for the best, given Briar didn’t know what to say to Elain and Elain was obviously working something out if the rough way she was deweeding was any indication. 

Their eyes met more than once. Finally, Briar caved. “If you want to go back–”

“I don’t,” Elain said, all but throwing her little shovel to the ground. She plopped on her butt, wiping sweat from her brow. “And I want to help with this, I just…”

She bit her bottom lip. Briar crept closer. “You just…?”

Elain shrugged helplessly. “Don’t you want more before accepting the mating bond?”

Briar reared back. “I don’t have a mate.”

Elain’s gaze pinned her to place. “Are you sure?”

“I would…I would know,” she said breathlessly, suddenly uncertain. Elain shrugged delicate shoulders.

“Rhys thought you did. It doesn’t matter. You never wanted more than just gardening and playing house to some male you barely know?”

Briar’s mind raced. She would know…and yet how had she woken from the cursed sleep? She’d never thought to ask Tamlin and he’d never told her. How had he found her? Why had he brought her to Prythian in the first place? 

“Yeah,” Briar lied. She didn’t know. “Where would you go?”

“Everywhere,” Elain said softly. “This was the only way out, but I’m sure Rhys has a list of demands on Lucien to make sure I never step foot off the grounds.” Elain seemed so bitter, so hopelessly angry. 

“Lucien is pretty well traveled, isn’t he?” Briar questioned. 

Elain scoffed. “Yeah. All these men—sorry, males—are. They get centuries to do whatever they like, but we’re expected to settle down and be wives and mothers with a whole eternal life ahead of us.” 

Briar scooted closer still. “I don’t think Lucien or Tamlin can tell us what to do,” she said, so close her knee nearly brushed Elains. Elain looked over at her.

“He’s the High Lord.”

“He’s always gone,” Briar replied easily. “So is Lucien. We’re alone,” she added, gesturing around them. “We can do what we like.”

Elain rose to her feet, wiping dirt off her dress. “And when they return, angry we’ve defied them?”

Briar almost laughed. “Are you afraid of Lucien?”

Elain watched her clamber upwards with hesitancy. “You’re not?”

Briar did laugh, then. “No. Lucien is stupid…no offense. What’s he going to do?”

“Tamlin locked Feyre in the manor,” Elain whispered. Briar’s head jerked backwards to look at the sprawling estate.

“Why?” She couldn’t imagine Tamlin locking anyone up anywhere. Lucien had left that out when he’d offered her the history of Spring Court’s demise, though he had spoken of Feyre. Briar wasn’t sure she liked the High Lady of Night, despite her help in Briar’s rescue. 

Elain looked over her shoulder, too. “A lot of reasons that made sense to him, I’m sure. He didn’t understand Feyre, I think. Maybe neither of them did. It’s not my story to tell, in truth. Tamlin could lock you in his palace, just like I’ve been locked in Night. They have more power than us, they know this world, they have ideas on how females are supposed to be.”

Briar knew Elain was coming from experience but in Spring, Lucien had let Briar run wild. Tamlin was gone all the time and even if he’d wanted to enforce some will, he had no way of doing so.

That, of course, could change but Briar meant to set a precedent that if she was going to live here, she could do what she liked.

Maybe Elain should, too. After all, they’d left the human world behind, which was well known for its abusive and oppressive tendencies towards women. This was a second chance. Why should Elain and Briar have to accept those same roles for centuries? 

“C’mon,” Briar said, grabbing Elain’s hand. “We can do what we like.”

“Briar—”

“No. This is my fresh start. Yours, too. If Lucien and Tamlin—or anyone doesn’t like it, they can send us away. But they can’t tell us what we can and can’t do.”

“Are you sure?” Elain asked. 

Briar wasn’t, and yet she nodded anyway. “I’m sure.”

TAMLIN: 

Tamlin’s boots crunched on the familiar drive of a once good friend. Lucien, of course, had known him better. The Paxton family had been part of Spring just as long as Tamlin’s had and at any point, the magic might have jumped into their line. He wondered if the male living behind the massive stone walls hiding his estate from view felt resentful about that. Perhaps his brother Oakely would have made a better High Lord.

He’d never know.

Lucien strode to the two sentries guarding the locked gate and made a big show of bowing. Lucien loved his theatrics. Despite the friendship that had once existed between the three, there was none between them now. Tamlin said nothing, letting the sentires stare at him with a mix of fear and surprise. He was High Lord regardless of what Paxton declared and they were honor bound to obey him.

Perhaps they thought their master might kill him. Tamlin almost wished he’d try. Instead, they raised the gates that Tamlin could have destroyed with a casual pulse of magic, and allowed him in. The stone wall was new—it must have taken a solid year to build. He’d assigned himself more land than Tamlin or his father had ever allotted and for that alone, Tamlin could put him to death.

It was his standing army that brought the wrath of Tamlin and Lucien on him. Lucien, dressed like an unassuming courtier's son, didn’t betray their grim mission. He smiled when Paxton stepped out of his home, draped in rich white and gold clothing and a crown Tamlin knew had once sat on his eldest brother's head. It was such a blatant show of power and Tamlin meant to make him pay for it.

“So,” he said, coming off that last step with a smirk. “Lucien and Tamlin, together again. What do I owe the pleasure, my lords?”

Lucien didn’t bat a lash. He’d spent a good century dealing with his father and brothers, after all. Rhysand, too, though Tamlin wouldn’t dare say it outloud.

“Disband your army,” Lucien said, coming towards Paxton. Just as they’d discussed. Tamlin watched Lucien put a hand on Paxton’s shoulder, squeezing like old friends. Lucien’s eyes slid towards Tamlin, inclining his head ever so slightly. 

Paxton, arrogant and too comfortable with his own power, laughed. “And go back to bowing to the beast? I think not. Come, Lucien. Surely you’re tired of playing second hand to a lesser male. Think—”

Lucien had Paxton’s arms pinned behind his back, his boot in his back faster than Paxton could track. Paxton slammed to his knees while Tamlin prowled forward. He couldn’t fight Lucien—Lucien was a High Lords son and far more powerful than someone like Paxton. He twisted, spitting on Tamlin when he reached for that crown. 

“Trevyn would have killed you for this,” he said, holding that golden crown with one long finger. 

“Trevyn is dead.” Paxton spat at Tamlins feet. “Your whole inbred family ought to be—”

Tamlin reached for his neck, talons slicing through the skin to silence him before he died. Blood splattered over Tamlin’s nice boots, replacing the spit. He relished the brute strength coursing through him, his magic that made his skin ripple. Tamlin ripped, holding Paxton’s gaze. His last horrible realization was the High Lord removing his head, dropping it like trash at his feet. 

Lucien released Paxton’s body, letting it slump forward unceremoniously. Tamlin felt the woosh of magic sliding back to the world, parsed out of a long line of powerful beings. 

How many more would return their gift to the world and let the Mother re-roll the dice? 

Lucien looked to the gathered forces still standing on the lawn. He recognized a few of those faces, had once fought alongside them. Tamlin kicked at Paxtons head, letting them see what defiance might win them. Their lord was powerful but they were not and in the span of two sentences, both Lucien and Tamlin had removed him from this world. He could tear through that army in minutes, faster if Lucien helped. 

“You can return to the barracks,” Tamlin told them, “Or you can join your master. Your choice.”

Lucien almost laughed. “Want to raid the house for things he stole?”

Tamlin was too busy staring down a contingent of armed males. He knew they were looking for weakness, looking for any reason to join up with another of the lords. Tamlin didn’t plan to give it to them. They would watch him make his way up Spring, decapitating the rest of the lords he and Lucien had already agreed on.

And then, that night when he dumped them all in the barracks, they could tell that story to anyone thinking of staging a coup. The lords had their breeding to fall back on. These soldiers had nothing at all, were likely easily killed by someone like Briar, if she had half a mind. 

“Tam?” Lucien interrupted his thoughts. “Do you want to go through his things?”

“Not today,” Tamlin said tersely. What did he fucking care about missing crowns? It would all turn up eventually. Lucien, ever worried about their image, could concern himself with what had been there but wasn’t. “We can take inventory tomorrow.”

There were a million things to do. The mere thought of picking it all back up again exhausted him. Lucien squeezed his shoulder before dropping his hand. They weren’t friends—maybe they never would be. Not like before. Something fundamental was broken between them and Tamlin didn’t know how to get it back. If he even wanted it back. He didn’t need Lucien’s ability with people to understand that.

And still, in that moment, Tamlin felt reassured. Less alone. 

“Who's next?” he asked, letting his voice carry through the rose scented air.

The army of males shifted with excitement. Spring would see more blood spilled before the day was out.

That was the nature of rebirth.

BRIAR: 

“Tunnels,” she breathed, yanking open one of the doors. “I’m pretty sure this one leads to Summer Court.”

“Pretty sure?” Elain squeaked behind her. Briar resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Elain Archeron was so in love with following the rules that Briar understood how the Night Court managed to keep her locked up. Did she even try to leave? The whole walk consisted of Elain bemoaning they were going to get caught and be in trouble, like they weren't grown adults who could do whatever they liked. 

Elain Archeron had no sense of adventure. Briar had always had too much of one, which was what had gotten her into trouble in the first place. She could hardly help herself, stepping through the circular, wooden door into the damp dark of the tunnel.

“Yes,” Briar agreed, thinking back on the map she’d seen Lucien standing over. “Pretty sure. Almost positive.”

“Maybe we should—”

“You go,” Briar dismissed with clear irritation. “I’m going to see if this takes me to Summer or to Autumn.”

“One of those would be a death sentence,” Elain told her, following behind all the same.

“Only if we’re caught,” Briar replied cheerfully. “It’s not like Beron Vanserra is waiting on the border for us specifically.”

Elain huffed a breath but kept walking all the same. 

“Aren’t you tired of doing what you’re told?” Briar asked her, letting the darkness surrounding them make her bold. She reached out, skimming the cool earth until she could feel the familiar life teeming just beneath. 

“No one can hurt you if you do what you’re supposed to,” Elain murmured. Briar laughed without meaning to. 

“People will hurt you either way. Kindness can’t save us from that,” she said, surprised by how bitter she felt. 

“So what’s the alternative?” Elain demanded, slightly breathless from the incline taking them up. The cool air had shifted, warming with each new step. “Resentment? I don’t want to be a creature of anger.”

“The alternative,” Briar said, reaching for the handle on the other side and pushing it open, “is to do whatever we like even if it makes other people angry or uncomfortable.”

Bright light temporarily blinded them both, causing Elain to slam into Briar's body and send them both careening towards the ground. They were laying in warm grass but in the distance, Briar could hear the ocean. She’d never seen it before and was suddenly desperate too. Beside her, Elain had also heard it and her once nervous eyes were bright and hopeful.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered. Briar scrambled upwards, offering Elain her hand. 

“Yeah,” Briar agreed. They didn’t drop hands, lacing fingers as they stumbled over the swaying, spiky grass towards that massive expanse of blue. Briar almost cried when she saw it—green gave way to gorgeous white sand and beyond that, crystalline water tumbled gently to the shore. There was no one out save for some brightly colored birds hanging out in tall palm trees. 

It was nothing like she’d thought it’d be. 

Elain clearly no longer had any objections, still holding Briar’s hand as they walked. They only dropped them when the water lapped at their boots, seeping through the material to ruin their socks. After that, it was a mad scramble out of their clothes, leaving them dressed in nothing but their underthings. No males to watch, no mates hovering. Just them and the water so clear that Briar could see her toes even in water so deep she could only barely touch the bottom. She couldn't swim and neither could Elain, so the pair clutched each other and were careful not to go out too far, squealing when a surprisingly big wave snuck up on them and tried to drag them out an inch or two deeper.

They stayed that way until the sun began to dip, warning them that they might get caught in Summer after dark. It was one thing to defy the High Lord of Spring and cross into another territory but another to tempt the creatures that called Summer Court home. 

Still, their little adventure softened Briar to Elain, if only a little. Maybe Elain had a little bit of fun in her, buried beneath all that self-preservation. Briar considered, as they plodded back to the estate utterly sodden in soaked shifts, that Elain’s caution and her spontaneity might balance each other out. Assuming, of course, Elain stayed at all.

“How long are you here for, anyway?” Briar asked as they crested another hill. The estate was just in view, glimmering and lovely against the pinkish glow of the setting sun. Tamlin wasn’t back.

Briar didn’t know how she knew that, only that she did. They’d gotten away with this which disappointed her. She wanted him to know, if what Elain said was true, that he couldn’t lock her up, too.

Elain shrugged. “Until Spring is stable, I suppose.”

A non-answer if Briar had ever heard it. She wasn’t practiced in speaking that way and had learned so the moment her and Lucien had spent longer than ten minutes together. He was trying to teach her, but Briar could not figure out the value in it. Why not just say what you meant? 

“The last time I saw you, you were human,” Elain continued, with a sidelong glance. “What changed?”

“A tree,” Briar grumbled. She’d forgotten all about that thing. 

“A tree,” Elain repeated dryly. 

“I can show you, if you want but we can’t touch it. That thing is cursed.”

“A cursed tree gave you immortal life?” Elain all but scoffed, letting Briar push open the doors to the estate.

“Weren’t you made by an enchanted Cauldron?” she shot back just a touch too defensively.

“I’m not saying it’s not possible, I’m saying it's strange. No one is concerned about a life-giving tree?” Elain demanded. “This place is a nightmare.”

“It’s not that bad,” Briar murmured, though in truth she agreed. Why was no one concerned about a tree that put people under a curse? “How do you break a sleeping curse?”

Elain shrugged her shoulders. “We should write to Day Court. See what they know. Maybe there is a way to destroy it so this doesn’t keep happening.”

“Sure. But before that, you know what we should do?”

Elain hesitated at the steps. She was so serious. Everyone was. Briar was tired of the males always looking at her with wary concern. She needed a friend. She hadn’t had one since before the war, the torture…Hybern. 

“We should change and break into the High Lord’s liquor cabinet.”

Elain smiled, so lovely that Briar couldn’t help but smile too.

“Give me ten minutes.”

TAMLIN:

It was dark by the time he and Lucien made their way home. Splattered in blood and in good spirits, the pair had gone to visit a handful of his former court to hear out their threats before severing their necks from their bodies using his talons. It happened quickly. They offered no mercy. Six lords were dead, their magic sent back to the earth. He’d felt the rush of it, heady and as intoxicating as the strongest spirits. They’d intentionally chosen unmarried, unmated males but the message was clear. He’d come back if they didn’t back down. 

He’d make wives widows if he had to. 

The two froze in the foyer to the sound of loud giggling coming just down the hall from the study. It was obviously Briar—Tamlin knew that laugh anywhere. Beside him, Lucien had become so utterly rigid he might have been made of stone. It was Tamlin who walked to the half open door, where Briar and Elain Archeron sat on the floor, legs spread against the blue and silver rug. Their noses were bright pink from the sun and a decanter of his nice whiskey was nearly emptied. 

Lucien peered over Tamlin’s shoulder, lips parted as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes were showing him.

Briar saw him first, elbowing Elain roughly in the ribs. Elain looked over, brown eyes wide, before erupting in a peal of laughter. Her face wasn’t a punch to the gut the way Nesta’s had been.

Soft, round, and so utterly unlike Feyre at all that he had to really scrutinize to find something that reminded him of his once great love. 

“Ask him,” Elain whispered as Briar put her forehead on Elain’s shoulder. 

“Are you drunk?” Lucien breathed, pushing past Tamlin to step into the room. Briar pointed her finger at him.

“You’re not allowed to be in here,” she said, her words slurring sweetly. “This is a mate free room tonight.”

Her eyes slid to him and with no small amount of horror, Tamlin thought she had to know. 

“How did you get here?” Lucien asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Too late, Tamlin remembered they still had blood streaking over their face and neck. He didn’t think either of the females had registered it. 

Elain hiccuped. “Rhys brought me. He says I need to be nice and that I should tell him what you two are up to.”

Lucien’s mouth dropped ever so slightly before he snapped it closed. “You’re doing a fine job, too.” Elain offered him her middle finger for his trouble, pushed back in her lap by a hysterical Briar.

“We went to the caves today,” Briar told them. “And spent the afternoon in Summer.”

That explained the sunburn. Both of them turned expectant eyes to him, waiting for him to say something. Still bewildered and nervous, Tamlin couldn’t think of anything else to say but, “Was it warm?”

Elain and Briar dissolved into laughter again. Loud, gasping breaths escaped Briar's throat, her beautiful face made more lovely by her amusement. Tamlin didn’t care if it came at his expense, so long as she kept smiling. 

Lucien took a step towards them and for his trouble, was gifted Elain’s slipper hurled at his face. “No males!” the two shouted, forcing them to retreat back. The last thing he saw was Briar’s head on Elain’s shoulder, her warm eyes sparkling with amusement. 

In the hall, Lucien ran a hand over his mouth. “Rhysand was here.”

“He must have come while we were otherwise occupied,” he agreed, still thinking about Briar on the floor. He would have given anything for her to look at him that way. “How many spies does he think I require?”

“Just one,” Lucien murmured. “I can’t believe he let her come.”

“Maybe she wanted to,” Tamlin offered, clapping Lucien on the shoulder. For a moment he could forget everything between them still hanging. It was like no time had passed at all, like they were still friends.

Still brothers. 

Tamlin left Lucien at the bottom of the steps. He couldn’t help himself, slipping into the Lord's suite for the bathroom and to indulge in Briar’s sweet scent hanging in the air. It was her room, that hadn’t been a lie…but it was his, too. And for the moment, he wanted to bathe in his own tub and think about nothing but her face crying with laughter as she sat spread out on the floor of his home.

His mate. Happy in Spring. It felt like a revelation after all the years of misery. He didn’t know what to do with those new feelings. It hardly mattered, he decided, sinking in the burning hot water he’d filled in the massive basin. He could figure that out later. For the moment, all Tamlin wanted to do was revel in the knowledge that somewhere in his house, his mate was happy. 

Safe. 

His mind shifted from the slaughter of the day, which had already left him keyed up, to Briar on the floor. Legs spread, breasts straining against the purple neckline of her dress. Her dark hair had been unbound and cascaded in loose waves down her back. 

Tamlin’s hand slid beneath the water for his straining cock. He shifted so his back was pressed against the smooth, cool edge of the tub. He drew one leg up, letting the other fall to the side as he began to stroke, eyes fluttering shut. He could imagine her in the water with him, her body bare and slick from the heat. The tips of her hair might ghost over his chest, her mouth hot against his own…

Tamlin shuddered. Every fantasy he’d had since he met her revolved around Briar putting her hands on him. He wanted to see his cock wrapped around her slim fingers. He wanted to feel her touch, wanted to scent her arousal. 

Tamlin was already too close. His sac tightened against his body as he dragged himself up and down, holding his aching erection painfully tight. It was barely enough to take away the edge of his need. He had no idea how Lucien had managed years. He was being driven to madness in the span of a week. Instinct was riding him hard, urging him to get up and go downstairs, to claim her on the floor, against the wall, in his bed. Tamlin came with a near violent jerk to the imagery of her writhing beneath him, clawing wildly at his back. 

Panting, Tamlin rose quickly and drained the water, his cock still bobbing between his legs. He’d have to do it again in the morning if he was going to sit beside her at breakfast without throwing her into a plate of eggs and having her instead. 

Padding naked into his bedroom, Tamlin flopped onto the bed for a moment, face buried in the pillow. He swore he meant to get up, to go down the hall and sleep in one of the many other rooms available to him. He’d forgotten in the wake of his arousal, how exhausted he was. Sleep stole over him almost immediately, dragging him back into the woods where he was still that beast, clawing and pawing at the earth trying desperately to find something hidden.

Something buried among the brambles.

He woke to a soft “oh,” and a hand on his back. Forgetting, for a moment, where he was or even who he was, he grabbed slim shoulders and slammed the threat to the mattress. Briar, still pink cheeked, stared up at him wide-eyed.

Fuck.

“You’re in my bed,” she whispered, her scent mingled with the alcohol on her breath. Tamlin released her, rising up on his knees without thinking. Briar leaned up, too, supporting her body weight on her elbows, her eyes raking down his body. 

“You’re…” she turned her head, eyes snapping shut. “Am I in the wrong room?”

“No,” he murmured, swinging his legs over the mattress quickly to pad for a pair of pants. He could feel her gaze burning against his back, watching as he moved. He was practically preening at the knowledge, though Tamlin kept it to himself. “I’ll go.”

“Stay,” she breathed softly. Tamlin nearly flew face first into the heavy armoire, surprised she’d asked at all. He tripped into a soft pair of linen pants before he dared to turn around and look at her. She was upright, sitting cross-legged with bright eyes. Still too drunk to do anything more than talk and yet sharing a bed was a literal dream.

“Okay,” he agreed, though some small part of him thought it would be better to decline her. He wanted to wake up buried in her hair. He climbed gingerly back into the bed, wondering where he ought to lay. The last bed he’d shared had been with—

“Why did you lock Feyre Archeron in the estate?” she asked, rolled to her side. Her head was propped against her pillow, eyes watching. Tamlin’s stomach splattered at his feet, churning with anxiety. Briar’s tone was curious and yet the question was so heavy. How did he explain his history with Feyre to his drunk mate? It had never occurred to him Elain might say something. 

“What did Elain tell you?” he asked, well aware banishing her would wreck his shaky peace with Lucien. 

“Just that you did and you might again,” she replied. “It’s why we went to Summer.”

Fucking Archeron’s. “To show me you could do what you want?”

She nodded, eyes wide and earnest. “Why did you, though? Was she…I mean, did she—”

“I was afraid,” he admitted, deciding to just be honest even though it made him feel sick to say.

“Afraid?”

Tamlin wanted to bury this conversation. Some part of him rebelled at telling Briar at all. It was over and he was desperate not to rehash every failing he’d ever had. Yet, seeing her and Elain laughing meant everything to him…and Tamlin could admit, however begrudging, when he was wrong. He and Feyre had been so bad at saying the things they needed to say. At every opportunity he kept his feelings to himself and refused to hear her say what he’d known, deep, deep down, was coming. He was the wrong male. She didn't want him. He’d hoped so badly back then if they had just kept everything inside that eventually things would be okay. 

It hadn’t worked for her and it didn’t work for Tamlin.

“Of losing her,” he whispered, hands fisted against his chest. He laid on his back staring up at the dark canopy overhead. 

“Oh,” Briar whispered. 

“It didn’t work,” he added, which was obvious given Feyre was gone. Married, mated, and with child. What would he have done if she’d stayed, only for him to slam into Briar? It was for the best and he’d known it at the end of the war. And still the loss of it all had made him miserable. It was more than Feyre–his court crumbling, the choices he’d made, everything had compounded until he was haunting the forest, unable to do anything but punish himself. 

“Are you sorry?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. She was quiet for so long Tamlin thought she must have fallen asleep, dragged under by the amount of alcohol she’d consumed. He was too keyed up despite their heavy conversation, excited she’d invited him to stay with her.

“Tamlin?” she whispered, shifting slightly on the bed. “You would tell me if I had a mate, right?”

Oh, Gods. He didn’t know what to say to that.

Tamlin remained silent, though he turned his head to look at her. It was a mistake. Briar’s warm eyes cut through the darkness, fixated wholly on him. 

“Do I?” she asked again. 

He closed his eyes. He couldn’t do this.

“Is it you?”

He forced himself to look at her again, well aware she might leave him, too. 

“Yes.” 

#tamlin #brilin #if you compare tamlin to kallias he's having a way better time #tamlin x briar #high lord series

[animebw]

Thinking back on The Last of Us now that it’s over, as good as it was, I think it also ended up revealing that this story was more attuned to the medium of video games than many of us gave it credit for.

Like, it’s one of the most common criticisms of the original TLOU game, right? “Oh, it’s just a movie with random fights every once in a while that’s ashamed of having to be a video game in the first place.” And to the show’s credit, it does a fantastic job of condensing and recontextualizing the game’s more standard gameplay-oriented sections to fit the demands of a TV show. So much of the early game is very slow-burn character growth over many long hours of fighting infected and raiders, coming to care about Joel and Ellie by spending all this goddamn time living in their shoes. But with a more time-sensitive show where every minute must be important to the story and characters, it’s able to trim that slow burn down to its most critical moments without losing any of the oomph. I think episodes 2 and 4 especially do a perfect job taking hours of game content and condensing it down to its true essentials, communicating in just a couple hours what the original game spent much longer getting you invested in. And episode 3 takes such a huge divergence from how things played out in the game that it’s fully able to stand on its own, maximized for the demands of TV show storytelling in a way that wouldn’t work in a game nearly as well. If you’re one of those people who see TLOU as a movie that’s ashamed to be a video game, you’ll find a lot of evidence here to support that theory.

But then we get to the late game. And suddenly, I find myself wanting. Yes, it’s still good and smart and makes strong adaptational choices and all that, but Joel’s injury without having to play through his rapidly deteriorating consciousness while Ellie takes charge to protect you as you’ve protected her for so long? Winter and David’s fight without that nightmarish escape through a blinding blizzard? The giraffe scene without the option to stay and linger on the view as long as you want, desperate to live inside the peace of that moment despite knowing you’ll eventually need to pull away? These moments have etched themselves into my soul. No matter how many years pass since I first played The Last of Us, I will never forget how utterly this game was able to wreck me through these incredible moments of gameplay and story dancing as one. And as good as the show is, it just can’t quite reach those dizzying heights. It can’t capture the visceral awe of experiencing this world and this story play out under the control of your own fingertips. The Last of Us is a video game; that much is undeniable now. Maybe it’s not the most interactive, but in the moments where it embraces its medium, it proves itself a true exemplar of the form. And though the HBO show was fantastic, the game will still be the definitive form of this story for me.

#the last of us #hbo the last of us #tlou #that said #I'm very interested to see how they adapt part 2 #because that game's really COULD benefit from some pretty heavy structural retooling #maybe that's where the show will truly prove its worth #but I guess we'll see

[jaggedwolf]

pll rewatch 1x03-1x04

this is happening, apologies in advance to everyone who did not experience pll-era jaggedwolf, including the two knuckleheads dragged into watching this show

I was so distracted by the horror of having to actually watch the Ezria of it all that I entirely forgot about Wren, and the Hastings family going "boo you whore" at Spencer for the audacity of being kissed by a grown man. What's the point of being lawyer parents if you don't threaten the fully adult man kissing your daughter instead of being mean to her.

but who are the Hastings if they don't pick the "Be Mean To Spencer" button whenever it appears? I forgot it started so early

other thing that starts early: A liar going, well, what the fuck do we do, Spencer?? and Spencer going ??? I don't know!!!!!???

First appearance of Noel's cabin! It has a foosball table. Noel did you have to spend money on that photo booth or did your parents have that lying around.

Here I contemplate the economic stratus of the parents of Rosewood (~7k population, along the Main Line, unincorporated?) and their frequent traveling for work, though here the Hastings are Out of Town for Melissa reasons.

I've never thought about Toby punching out Ben in the context of what we later learn about Toby, but huh. considering that.

you know, Sean did nothing wrong. Dude did not want to fuck and got his car wrecked for it. Just remembered the other plotline he's briefly involved in this season through no fault of his own and am laughing, he is here to be utterly clueless.

Hanna is still so good though <3

Group flashback time - when Alison tears into Hanna, it's Aria who speaks up. Something to keep track of, maybe, for the pre-disappearance dynamics

The first two episodes have Emily-Aria and Hanna-Spencer link up as pairs, the former feeling like outsiders to the town, the latter the shining stars on the edge of flaming out.

These eps have no Emily-Aria, each wrapped up in their own secrets, but we get a bunch of Hanna-Spencer. Spencer tells Hanna about the plagiarism first, Hanna talks to her about dad dinner outfits, Spencer asks Hanna when she needs a ride from the motel. ....Is S1 going to make me contemplate Spencer/Hanna? I have no complaints.

(To be fair, I'm not sure Emily has her own car at this point. We only see her with the bike and in other people's cars so far, which would make sense for the Fields. Am I going to start tracking proof of car ownership? Maybe.)

A's responses when the girls block unknown numbers are good. The missing girl poster, the frickin song dedication, the jungle red lipstick on a mirror! Can't wait for A to hit the girls up on Excel

god does tom marin suck. and byron. and ezra. and wilden. let's stop there before I list every man in rosewood

except for toby, whose only crime these episodes is failing to make non-creepy expressions. then again, he spent a year in reform school wearing that terrible durag. that must do damage to a fella.

am reminded that Aria can be fun when she's not mired in Ezra bullshit (very insistent on the difference of gnats vs flies! utterly aghast that Spencer hasn't started a paper! decides to tell her mom too late when it shouldn't have been her problem from the start!). this week's fashion crime was an earring so big i thought it a shawl or part of her shirt until someone pointed out it wasn't

Emily's plot mildly stresses me out now that we've gotten past the locker room scene because I don't remember what happens when. I just want this kid to be okay! She's the only one still wearing the friendship bracelet, yeah? I don't remember how long it lasts for

mentions of writing on facebook walls...this show is so 2010...

#jaggedwolf rambles #pll watching #pll #mine

[sunflowerandstrawberryspice332]

Season FUCKING 8 of Ninjago

So I have been emotionally demolished (big surprise there) because my favorite character, and please don’t behead me for this, was Garmadon. I’ve never really mentioned it before because I saw no need to, but gods.... I’m in physical pain.

Why is Garmadon my favorite character? (I swear this section matters)

Because I love the way the show handled his character, I love how even when he was evil even when he was infected with the Great Devourer's venom, he was clearly trying to be good, he played more of the role of an anti hero than a true utter villain in my personal opinion (the crew also said that was kinda the intention in the beginning so I’m not to far off base). He clearly cared about his son and his wife, with Lloyd seemingly knowing who his father was before he had even gotten the chance to meet his mother (I promise I will talk about Misako in this rant cause she does play into it) and Garmadon is shown doing pretty much nothing other than telling his son “I love you, you matter and please don’t be like me” in season one through till then end of season four and even in their short meeting in season five. 

Also it feels like the characters conveniently forget the fact that: isn’t the whole reason he’s evil because he was bit by the Great Devourer? The best comparison I can think of is blaming someone who was bit by a werewolf for becoming a werewolf, again not sure how else to put it. Also he’s shown doing a whole shit ton of good stuff before the evil like fully took over, like he fought multiple wars on the good side. 

But then after he’s like de-evil-fied he immediately becomes this really kind chill person (hm it’s almost like he was a fundamentally good person who got dealt a really bad hand) even swearing off fighting, only breaking that vow because his son is in danger. In fact after he’s turned not evil (idk man) he’s a really valuable member of the team who’s honestly a lot less reckless when it come to the ninja’s well beings, like seriously who left Wu in charge of these people, and even snapped at Wu when they got BLASTED OFF INTO SPACE. His redemption is rather slow with most of the ninja taking most of season two to truly warm up to him, even after they’re still clearly weary of him, which I freaking love btw.

Finally after multiple seasons of proving he is a better person, admitting past lies (such as the letter to Misako, which honestly if a letter was all it took to sway her one way or another I’m not really sure how loyal she truly is, but I digress), mending bonds and just generally doing things to prove himself a good person, then the ending of season four hits and he sacrifices himself in a final act selflessness to save everyone. And I’m sorry but the line “I had wanted to make the world in my image, but I realize I already have, in you.” To Lloyd as his last goodbye was just heart wrenching. His last goodbye was an act of selfless good and even after we see him in season five he’s not concerned about escaping he is concerned about his sons wellbeing. 

Why Harumi bringing him back makes me so upset.

So yeah that’s why I love Garmadon but why does it matter? Well because he died a good person. He died with people remembering his sacrifice as something good. Then Harumi brought him back, but not the Garmadon who loved his son more than anything, not the Garmadon who went through seasons of mending bonds, no she brought back the part of him entirely consumed with evil and hate, and it makes me so FUICKING mad!

Imagen you go through years of healing and change so you’ll be remembered not only for the evil you did but the good person you died as, only for someone to bring back the evil part of you to crush the image people had of you and wrecking the bonds you’d made leaving your memory utterly demolished and your family bond broken because some random girl decided she cared more about her own revenge and anger than the peace and good ending you had worked so hard to achieve.

Also the effect it’s going to have on Lloyd (Note I have not yet watched season 9 so take this as what I think would be the emotions he’d be feeling). His last true memories with his father were with the Garmadon who redeemed himself, it’s the person Lloyd considers to be his real father/the real Garmadon only for Harumi to bring back the man who Lloyd knows isn’t really his father only a hollow shell with his voice and snippets of memories. I can’t even imagine one how gut wrenchingly terrible it would feel to lose your parent only for someone to bring back what’s essentially an evil clone to destroy all the good that they had previously done.

Enough about Garmadon lets talk about season 8 (This section is far lighter)

This season was awesome! I loved most of the changes to the character designs and voices (apparently some people didn’t like the changes but honestly my only complaint has so be Kai’s hair color being kinda weird) it just felt like everyone’s voice actors were going so much harder this season, especially Zane, Cole and Nya’s like Nya’s voice and (let’s be honest) pretty bad hair cut was holding her back and since that all changed she’s honestly just so much cooler now! Also Zane switching from more human esq while in front of people while being robotic around his friends was just a fun rather personal touch, like it just felt like such a neat character quirk, like I just love to think of Zane not wanting to scare like younger children and stuff like that so he wears the more human appearance.  

I loved all the reveals of small character quirks, especially with Cole, like him apparently not liking public singing (do I smell possibilities for fanfiction) and being really good with kids, like that’s just so adorable. Also all of Cole and Zane’s little side quest was just more shipping fuel for me lol. I loved the Pixel reveal and it just feels so fitting for her to be samurai X like just way to fun!

Was the season perfect: no, but was it really freaking fun and enjoyable and depressing, yes yes it was! In conclusion this Lego show should not have this much of a hold over my emotions tbh, but I’m not gonna stop watch so ya know!

#ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon #lord garmadon #garmadon #cole ninjago #ninjago zane #ninjago jay #kai ninjago #ninjago nya #FUCK misako #wu ninjago #ninjago dareth #princess harumi #zane x cole #honestly this season was just so fucking good #season 8 #it ripped me appart #Also I feel like Dareth deserves a little more credit like the dude was actually useful multipule times he might not be a good ninja #but he is a good asset #ninajgo #spinjitzu #ninjago secrets of the forbidden Spinjitzu #Also are we gonna ignore the fact Lloyds grandfather is literally just God

[its-all-a-little-bit-magical]

CW: brief mentions of abuse, violence, torture, as they appear in BBC Merlin

So I’m about ten years late on this but I’m really not seeing enough discourse about Morgana from BBC Merlin bc like. She is. Utterly Fascinating. She is a study in how writers at the time were absolutely panicking about how to deal with women activists and shows a really unnerving look at the way that people thought (and continue to think) that left wing activists are constantly on the borderline of falling into violent extremism and it is. Wild. And yet I barely ever seem to see people discussing her in depth?

It’s been mentioned a few times though on the Destiny and Chicken podcast (which if you haven’t listened, go do that immediately, it is a wonderful episode by episode breakdown and discussion and the hosts are brilliant) that Morgana’s obsession with killing Merlin (and kidnapping him, and torturing him, and emotionally wrecking him, etc., etc.) is strange because she doesn’t know about his magic and therefore she shouldn’t know that he is a legitimate threat. I actually completely disagree. I don’t think that it’s actually about his threat level at all. I always read her ‘oh he’s a thorn in my side’ type rhetoric, right from Season 3 and the scene where she says something like that to Morgause, as an excuse, rather than as her legitimate reason. I think that her obsession with hurting Merlin truly stems from his betrayal in the Fires of Idirsholas. I don’t think she ever recovers from it.

Think of it from Morgana’s point of view: she doesn’t know that Merlin was told that she was the vessel for the spell. In fact, she doesn’t even know that she is the vessel. Remember: Morgause enchants her to sleep before she a) consents to participate in the plan, and b) gives her any real detail about the plan. As far as she knows, something terrible is happening and someone is trying to kill Uther. With only that info to go on, she risks her life to help save Uther, despite everything he’s done to her and people like her (see: directly threatening her life, throttling her, locking her up etc.). Remember that she helps Merlin drag Uther out of danger. She has no idea what’s going on and she doesn’t have any expectation of her own safety throughout. When Merlin continues dragging Uther away after Morgana trips and a knight advances on her, she cowers because she’s fully expecting him to strike her.

Given this, when Merlin poisons her, there’s really only one thing that could motivate him, as far as she knows: she has magic. From Morgana’s POV, arguably her closest friend, the person who knows her most private and dangerous secrets and who seemed to accept her, turned on her at the first sign of a magical threat, without trying to speak to her or genuinely considering that she might literally be protected by her magic, but not be causing it. As far as she can see, he simply assumes that it’s her fault because she has magic, and his response is to straight up murder her. That’s intensely personal. She trusted this man with a secret that could kill her and he used that knowledge as justification to poison her.

Also, Merlin’s choice is essentially to kill her on the chance that it saves Arthur. He sees both Arthur and Morgana at risk and he chooses to sacrifice Morgana. There’s a repeating pattern of characters choosing Arthur over Morgana that I’ve always found intensely sad. Gwen falls for him and so Morgana loses her; when she comes back in S3, her best friend has moved on. Merlin chooses Arthur. Gaius chooses literally everyone in damn Camelot except her. Annis chooses Arthur. Uther prioritises Arthur and chooses not to claim Morgana as his family. She’s constantly isolated in favour of Arthur. Merlin might just have been the first and most traumatic loss.

(I will also point out that he used hemlock, a poison that, to this day, has no antidote. Without a ventilator and 21st century medical life-support machines, that girl should be dead. From what she can know, he didn’t want her brought to the point of death but maybe revivable, he wanted her Deceased. I assume Morgause healed her with magic but like, honestly, Merlin could not have expected that to be possible.)

I’ve gone on a bit but basically, I think that Morgana’s specific obsession with Merlin does make sense because it’s not partly political, like with Arthur, it’s primarily personal. I think this also explains why her plans re: Merlin are so centred on personally hurting him, rather than, as you said, simply sending someone in to slit his throat and be done with it. When he’s brought to her in A Servant of Two Masters, she literally stops someone from killing him so that she can hurt him herself. She tortures him physically and then tries to make him do the one thing that would hurt him most: kill Arthur. (This also ties in to Fires of Idirsholas, because in that situation Merlin chose Arthur’s life over hers and now she’s going to make him lose the person he sacrificed her to save.)

When she poisons him in The Hollow Queen, it’s violent and intimate and personal. Firstly, she uses poison, which is a direct callback to what he did to her. She forces it into his mouth and watches him. She barely uses magic at all, except to get him on the ground at first which is fair since she might not be able to do it manually any more since Colin Morgan suddenly grew three inches and got Shoulders. She uses something that will make him suffer for as long as possible. And she pushes his body over that ridge herself, without magic. Even the way in which she tricks him into following her into the woods is a sick recreation of her experience with Merlin and druidboy!Mordred.

Essentially, it comes down to her understanding of Merlin: i.e. she knows that Merlin will drop everything to help this innocent young boy that he’s known for thirty seconds—but not her. He will do anything to help anybody—but not her. It’s really fricking sad to me. She puts herself through watching him help a total stranger, knowing that he deemed her undeserving of his kindness; she forces herself to see, again, that he will help anyone, no matter what, even if they have magic—but, for some reason, not her. It must feel personal to her, which is I think why her attacks on Merlin are so personal in return.

Also, in the Hollow Queen episode, compare Morgana’s plan re: Merlin with her plan re: Sarrum. Sarrum imprisoned her for TWO YEARS in a pit and (it’s implied) physically or sexually abused her, and yet she’s willing to delegate that assassination to Gwen. She looks at her plan for the week, decides to get rid of both Merlin and Sarrum, and goes ‘mm yeah that’s too much, I simply don’t have time for both of those’ and chooses to prioritise killing Merlin herself over assassinating the man who, again, imprisoned and abused her for years. That, to me, really makes it seem like Merlin is still a more personal and important target. Sarrum she wants dead for his actions against her, sure, but she had no love for him beforehand so the trauma isn’t compounded by a previous relationship with the abuser. However, she loved and trusted Merlin before his betrayal and so her vengeance against him simply has to be carried out by her own hand.

#morgana pendragon #merlin season 5 #morgana #merlin #bbc merlin #merlin analysis #abuse