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c0smoshit · 9 months

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Guilt ミ★

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ≫ Cloud Strife/Reader

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕝𝕠𝕥 ≫ Familiar faces with not so pretty words appear in Cloud's dream

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ angst!!, fluff too, traumatised Cloud, HUGE FF7 SPOILERS, Not proofread!!

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ This fic contains really big spoilers from the original game that haven't appeared yet on the remake!!!

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 ≫ 4.705

Aerith

Wait

"Why didn't you save me Cloud?"

What?

"You tried to kill me"

It was Sephiroth not me... What is going on?

"You left me to die there, don't you remember?"

Suddenly the voice that took all the space in that weird unlighted room came into vision. She was backwards, her long hazel braid adorned with a cute pink ribbon on top and that characteristic red jacket beyond a long dress... It was really her.

Did I die and went into a purgatory for what I had done? Am I in some sort of limbo?

No it can't be. I saw her die in front of me, this is just some stupid dream...

"I miss you Cloud"

...Right?

Her face was soft and full of live, her green orbs overshadowing the rest of her features. She looked so... real

He stayed silent as the girl approached him slowly, smiling sweetly as her dress followed her steps graciously. He kept thinking about that day, the day she let go of him, cradled in his arms as her lifeless body sank itself into the water, returning to the lifestream.

Something felt odd, her face wasn't as lively as he remembered it to be. Her face was like a ray of sun, always emanating energy and happiness to her surroundings. Now her face felt empty, altough she was smiling, it was like there wasn't any true emotion behind her factions.

"Why did you let me go?"

She kept talking, and with every word that fell from her mouth he felt himself growing deeper and deeper into sorrow.

Of course I remember her, I miss her too and I'm was very aware that I had tried to kill her on top of that translucent glass.

It wasn't him, he had done everything that he could to stop himself from slicing her in half. But no matter how hard he repeated to himself that it wasn't his fault, there was always this agravating voice inside of his head that blamed him. He still felt like it was his fault, he should've been stronger, he should've been a SOLDIER.

A hand touched his shoulder, making him tense up, there was someone else here too. His eyes fell first to the recognizable black gloves and he didn't have to turn around to be sure he'd be met with dark spiky hair.

Why couldn't I be like him?

That question often flooded his mind, ever since he was just a kid who just wanted to pursue a dream. Life could've been easier if he had just became a SOLDIER, deep down he thought that if he was stronger maybe you'd like him more.

"I thought you were strong"

A huskier voice spoke now, much stronger than the one that spoke earlier. The hand had such a powerfull hold on his shoulder Cloud pictured himself being buried into the ground just by the force of it. And he wished it was his strength instead.

"You could've protected her, protected me"

I know, I fucking know.

"Aerith will no longer talk, no longer laugh, cry... or get angry..."

He remembers himself saying that in front of that self-centered son of a bitch. Many times had he crossed his path and promised everyone that he'd kill him, but instead he was just being controlled by him. Forcing him into doing things he didn't want to, give him things he wouldn't let slip out of his grasp.

He felt grief, he felt embarrassed but on top of those feeling he felt lost.

He was already a grown up and he didn't even know his true self, everything about his life seemed... fake.

Like someone was just piloting him and he was on the passenger seat.

He also felt weak.

An adjective he had learnt to totally despise over the years.

He couldn't enter into SOLDIER because he wasn't strong enough, he couldn't save Tifa from that fall because he wasn't fast enough, he couldn't save Aerith from Sephiroth because well... he wasn't good enough.

When he was just a child he thought Tifa's friends were childish and weak, that he wouldn't be like them, that he wasn't like them.

But turns out... maybe he was the weak and childish one.

He then felt himself being dragged into the void, everything went dark around him. A pitch-black blanket covered him tightly, or what he thought it was.

Zack and Aerith were now gone, he was floating alone.

His limbs were numb, his eyes were closed for an instant before they were opened again. A familiar sandy path appeared right in front of him, an old truck resting on the side of it. He then saw the tall metalic structure, something he had crossed multiple times when he was younger. Houses adorned the little village in an almost perfect circle, red roofs and white bricks.

His younger him walked in front of him, steps full of energy and youth. He felt somewhat jealous of him, he had so many dreams and fantasies he pursued. Little could expect that boy to happen in reality.

The little boy ran before he could grab him, vanishing from his vision as another person came into it instead. Altough he was backwards, anyone could know who he was. Long white hair and dark clothes, eyes full of rage and power as he tilted his head to see Cloud.

Soon the houses were light with red and orange flames, the air becoming dense and har to breathe through the ashes and the imminent warmth.

"What about MY saddness!?"

He also pictured himself shouting that to Sephiroth, words full of rage and saddness. The man he trusted the most, the man who he thought was so strong and, just someone who he could follow his steps. He was now laughing at him, speaking to him as if he was rubbish, some sort of puppet.

He was tired of him, tired of seeing him everywhere. He remembers his confusion that day, his anger and his saddness. He thought that wasn't the real Sephiroth, that this was just some sort of joke.

He hated him, he wanted him dead right in front of him but he hated himself more. He hated that he probably wasn't going to be strong enough to even touch him.

He was just a traumatised kid.

Then you appeared, trapped bellow a wooden board. You had the most frightened eyes he had ever seen, you were sweating, screaming and begging for him to save you.

"Cloud!"

He tried to run to were you were, to shout that you were going to be okay, that he was going to rescue you and take you back home without any scratch.

"Please..."

When he saw you going limp on that board his heart clenched. Not again, god, he would sell his soul to the devil just to save you. He couldn't see you like that, not when he could save you.

"Hang on!"

He shouted to you as he began lifting the rusty board from you, helping you out from the fire. Your body fell and he managed to catch you, you were hot, really hot. This wasn't good.

"It's alright"

He tried to reassure you, he knew he wasn't the best with words but he tried. Why couldn't he be like one of those cool heroes who managed to save everyone and always have such good words to say?

You didn't open your pretty eyes, your breathing was getting calmer and weaker. He held you tightly to his body as he felt the warmth of the fire enveloping both of you.

He couldn't do this anymore, first Zack then Aerith and now you.

He couldn't lose you, you were his last hope on this tragic planet. You two had been through hell and back together, you couldn't die that easily right?

"Please answer me"

He shook you lightly, patting your cheek as he tried to wake you up. But none of that worked, you felt heavier on top of him... lifeless.

He felt himself tearing up, not you. He needed you, you couldn't just be gone that easily. He held you tightly to his body as he let himself cry into your shoulder.

Your smell was mixed with the smoke, your relaxed muscles sprawled on top of him as a little tear shed from your eye. He was devastated. The girl that had helped him through everything, who offered him a shoulder to cry on whenever he needed it, who lended him a warm bed and fresh food with such a sweet smile. She was now dead on top of him and it was all his fault.

"Come on"

A wave of guilt washed over him, he still hasn't thanked you enough for all the shit you had done for him. All the sleepless nights you had spent taking care of him and his stupid wounds.

His arms lifted you in bridal style, just like he did with Aerith. No, this time it could be different, it had to.

Your head rested on his shoulder and he could've found that view cute if you weren't fucking dying on his arms. He hated this, the scorching fire enveloping both of you as he tried to find somewhere to go. His head spinned and ached, he needed to get you somewhere safer.

But the more he ran and ran, the more blurry his surroundings became. His legs were burning, his lungs too, but he needed to save you.

And then... darkness again, his skin was no longer sweaty thanks to the burning flames.

You were still on his arms with your eyes closed and no signs of breathing. He quickly hugged you close to his body, begging you to wake up to just talk to him, open your gorgerous eyes for him to see just one more time.

But you didn't, instead you felt... lighter, as if your soul was slowly leaving your body. He could still smell the soapy shampoo you used that lingered on your hair, a smell that always brought comfort to him.

It wasn't fair, he was tired

Tired of seeing everyone die right in front of him, the time he had spent with them and the bonds he had created with them now becoming just memories. And he couldn't do anything about it, he should've done something sooner.

He often wondered why was he alive, why not him, why did poor souls of innocent friends had to die and not him.

"Cloud"

He quickly shoved his head off your shoulder, eyes trying to focus on your own ones. But you were still asleep on his arms, what? It was your voice who said his name, why didn't you wake up?

His mako eyes flicked up and looked into the void, there was nobody there, it was just... darkness.

"Cloud"

Your voice called him again and it echoed though his ears, where were you? Well, first off were was he?

Your words were laced with sleppiness, coming out a bit groggy and husky. You were calling him but your lips didn't move when you talked.

He felt someone shake his shoulder but when he tried to look at whoever who was touching him he saw emptiness. The shaking became harsher, but it didn't feel like someone strong was shaking him. It was more like if someone wanted to wake him up, it reminded him of his mother and how she woke him up with gentle shakes. But a kiss wasn't placed on his cheek or forehead so he was pretty sure it wasn't her.

An anguish pain struck his forehead, his skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat as he sat on top of a mattress. The room was dark except for the dim moonlight that entered through the window, blocking the chilly air.

His hands fisted the mattress hard, knuckles white before his eyes locked with yours. Thank god you were safe and without any burn scars or serious wounds. Your hair was messy and your eyes were practically forcing themselves to remain open.

He then noticed your hand holding your reddened forehead, it looked like someone had punched you right in the middle of it.

"Are you alright?"

You muttered a quiet "oww" before his own forehead began to hurt again. That was when he realised what could've happened and boy did he felt bad.

He suddenly remembered where he was and what was happening, you two were resting in an inn as Tifa had decided that it was the best idea before the night reached your path. Both of you shared a pretty nice room, your bed a few inches appart from his, divided by a cute wooden bedside table.

He remembers your excited and happy face when you first saw the bedroom, an emotion he couldn't understant. I mean... It was just a bedroom. But that was something that he absolutely adored about you.

He didn't know why or how but you always managed to make him feel the way you did. Wherever he saw a normal room you saw a cozy cute room that was absolutely perfect to rest in after a long day. Whenever he saw a cloudy and boring day you saw the opportunity to go out and let the rain wash over your body, running and smiling around.

"Are you alright?"

His breathing was still uneaven, the sour taste of seeing you lifeless on his arms still lingered on his tongue. He nodded quite quickly at your question, still disorientated.

"You were making weird noises in your sleep and then... And then you started moving around"

He listened carefully to what you were saying but his eyes finally took in your state. You were sitting besides him on his bed, your puffy eyes and your messed up nightgown showed that you had probably just woken up.

"I tried to wake you up and when I did you sat up so abruptly that our foreheads smashed into each other"

So that was the reason of his weird headache, touching it as he saw you mimick his actions. He was incredibly sorry, he shouldn't have woken you up in the first place and when you tried to help him get out of that horrific nightmare he just hurt you.

He kept apologising to you, telling you how sorry he was for waking you up like this. But you only smiled at him, shuffling closer to him and telling him that it wasn't a big deal.

"I just had a bad dream, that's- that's all"

His words were followed by an evident sad tone, keeping to himself the actual nightmare he had just seen.

But when he tried to explain to you that it was nothing he was met with two warm arms surrounding his middle part. His hands stayed akwardly on the sheets, letting you hug him before he gently returned the hug.

He didn't know he wanted your hug but he needed it. You felt so warm and nice just like a blanket wrapped around him in a winter night. He never wanted to let go of you, god since when had he gotten so emotional?

A flash of images about the earlier dream he had passed through his eyes and he had to force himself not to hug you tighter to his body, just to feel that you were real. To ensure that you were there with him alive and breathing.

But you were the one that hugged him tighter, pressing your chest against his as you laid your head on his shoulder your mouth just bellow his ear. His mouth was slightly open and his cheeks grew hotter, clearly not used to this closiness with someone.

But he pushed those thoughts away, akwardly placing his hands around your waist. He was so glad you were here with him, so glad that it all was a bad dream.

He hated hugs, he hated when people invaded his personal space, but having someone that gave you a warm hug after an almost traumatic experience felt just right. You actually cared about what he had to say or what he wanted to do, you were there when he needed you.

He felt stupid for all the times you offered him a hug and he ,arrogantly, declined them. This felt like heaven.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Your sweet and soothing voice ringed through his ears in such a perfect way he would have melted on spot. He didn't know what was happening to him but he just was so emotional with you. Maybe it was because he didn't really have anyone to calm him down after a bad dream.

He stayed silent for a few seconds, he couldn't lie to you but he didn't want to open up to someone about his feelings too. He was taught that feelings were for weaklings, thst he didn't need them. He felt stupid for having them but he couldn't help it, he was just a guy after all.

"Aerith was there"

He started speaking without wanting to, he finally broke that akward barrier with you. He felt your breath hitch for an instant and before you could open your mouth he talked again.

"She was with Zack and they were-"

He cut himself off by clearing his throat a bit, thinking about the words he was going to use.

"They were... blaming me for what happened"

Your eyebrows furrowed and now you cut him off before he could speak again, your head pulling off from his shoulder, eyes facing his neck as you held him close to you.

"It wasn't your fault"

"Don't blame yourself for what happened, you did more than enough"

Your words hit him harder than a brick, he expected you to say something similar but those words actually coming out of your mouth made his heart clench.

"You were there for both of them, you protected them. But sometimes things don't go as you expected"

He didn't know when you had placed your hand on his cheek but he leant against it, his eyes know facing your gorgerous sleepy ones. He had always found you really pretty, he liked the way you smiled and how you laughed at dumb one-liners.

But or course he would never say that to you.

He stared at your face like a lost puppy, listening intently to what you were saying. He could listen to you for hours and he loved doing it whenever you two were together with the rest of the group. He actually sticked closer to you whenever he had the chance, the way you friskily moved your hands or the gestures you'd make. You were so... natural and charming.

"Aerith must be proud of you and so must be Zack, you were by their side the whole time"

Your thumb started stroking his cheek, keeping your movements gentle and steady. He could've fell asleep right there, his hands still rested on your waist and when he noticed he quickly retrieved them.

He didn't want to make you uncomfortable, not when you were helping him so much, holding him on your arms, whispering through the night breeze such reassuring words.

He can't recall the day he felt this safe and good with someone, not even with his own mother. He sure had heard before some motivational words coming out of Barret or Tifa's mouth but your's were deeper than theirs. He needed to hear them, he needed you.

"It's all Sephiroths fault, how could I have trusted him? You almost..."

He opted not to continue, it was probably the best option because he didn't want to talk about your death again, not in front of you. He had already talked too much about his dream.

Your hand trailed itself up to his shoulder, faces close together before your lips moved again.

"We'll take care of him, together"

Your last words were matched with a tender squeeze on his shoulder, bringing him the comfort he didn't know he needed. His eyes rested on yours, inspecting them carefully, taking mental images of them.

"You're a tough guy Cloud, no white haired weird guy could take you down"

He smiled a bit a your description and so did you, offering him a wolfish grin before whispering again.

"His hair sure didn't age well"

He let a little chuckle escape his lips, forgetting for an instant why were you up in the first place. After that silence fell all over the room, the only noise that could be heard was the gentle sway of the leaves and the slight night breeze.

The moonlight hit your face, making it glow in an almost ethereal way and he swore he felt the time freeze. He was so comfortable right now with you by your side, he never wanted this to end.

You both looked into eachother's faces, eyes trailing over the tiniest little features before always returning to both of your eyes. This was prolonged for almost three minutes, both of you just breathing and admiring each other, waiting for someone to do something.

"You should get some rest"

Your voice broke the silence again, but not in a good way as earlier. He saw you depart from him, your warm body left his, he didn't want you to go that quickly.

How much time had passed since you sat down with him?

"No"

A hand grabbed your wrist, stopping your movements. He didn't know where this sudden movement came from but he didn't care if it made you stay.

So you silently complied, sitting down with him again and as magnets attract each other, your bodies crashed together again in a warm hug. He couldn't give a damn about the fact that you were practically crushing him above the bed, he was happy to have someone to hold to in these awful nights.

He wasn't usually like this, he did not fucking know were this demeanor came from but he knew that he liked you like this.

Your body rolled itself so it rested by his side, no longer on top of him wrapped like a blanket. Your hands wrapped around his head, holding his face close to your chest while his own hands held your waist tightly, afraid to let go of you. His blonde spiky hair trickled your arms, he looked so cute like this; wrapped tightly against your chest like a little kid, eyes closed and slightly furrowed eyebrows.

"Sleep tight, Cloud"

He loved how his name rolled off your tongue, he could picture your mouth slowly making a little "O" shape when you said his last letters.

You were so good, maybe too good to him and for what? He was just an arrogant quiet guy who only cared for himself (or so is what he thought about himself) He admired you, your strength to lift yourself up when you had fallen to the ground with a heavy "thud! ", how you put other people's feelings or even lives before your own one, how you managed to easily forgive pieces of shit that had caused you or the group a bad time just because you were too emphatic.

And here you were now, holding him like he was made out of glass, he would cry right now. But he didn't, he sticked to just holding you tightly to him, assuring himself that you were there with him. You rubbed his hair gently, carefully massaging his scalp, he felt as if a goddess was massaging his head instead, and it wasn't far away from reality because he really saw you as an angel.

Your little snores made his heart flutter, you had fallen asleep on his arms, your hand no longer caressing his hair. And he quickly followed you, drifting off to Cloud 9 before he could even admire your asleep form.

That night he had the best sleep he'd ever had since months, craddled nicely on your arms as if he was a little kid who had slept on his mommy's bed after a bad dream (that was indeed what had happened). Your limbs were tangled together, your head resting on top of his as the blanket was quickly replaced with your body. He really couldn't thank you enough.

This was the first time he had sleep with someone like this and he surely would do it again. But it wasn't just somebody it was you, you were special.

His mind drifted to images of you, the day he first saw you on a dress Aerith had told you it was made just for you, and it clearly was. That time when you stopped by Costa del Sol and you and the girls played along the sea, barefoot and splashing water at each other. That day back in Midgar when you had found stray cats and quickly petted them, held them in your lap as you rubbed their belly and earnt some purrs.

He didn't know why but he just wanted to keep you to himself, hug you until he died in your arms.

He also loved how your hair smelt, a fresh fruity scent that he was now delighted to enjoy for as long as he wanted to. Your hands and how they worked wonders on him when you gave him a massage or when you treatted his wounds. Your eyes, god they were so gorgerous he could spend the rest of his life staring at them.

But his mind also drifted to your limp state on his arms, was that a future vision? He remembers he had some weird flashes of Aerith's dead when he first was with her. He was deeply worried, he didn't know what his mind or his body were actually capable of and he didn't even wanted to know.

He knew something was wrong with him since he was just a child, he was different to the other kids. Maybe if he acted distant and cool they would play with him or maybe not.

Deep down he knew he only wanted to feel wanted, to feel loved. He had spent his whole life pushing those feelings away, it would only complicate things. But it just felt so good to be held like this, to hear those quiet but deep words. He wanted you, he had loved you since he had met you, you were... god he can't even describe you.

All this Shinra and the world being destroyed was so tiring for him, why did he had to solve everything? He was sick of hearing that name, sick that the only purpose of his life was to stop him, to go after him. But he had started all this, he needed to finish what he had caused.

But on nights like this, he only craved for you, for you to just be there for him, hold him tightly to your body as you told him that nothing would go wrong. To dry his eyes when he fell apart, to massage his hair. He wanted you.

You were there with him, he was glad that this wasn't some shit he had made up inside his head.

Your hands tugging his hair were the reason the woke up, slowly opening his eyes, praying that you'd still be there. And you were, greeting him with the sweetest smile he could have ever seen. Your tired eyes stared down at him, eyebrows slightly furrowing a bit as you woke up too.

This was a sight he wanted to see way more often.

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contentment-of-cats · 5 months

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Thrawn, age, illness, and injury.

Ahsoka talk below.

Fandom can be shallow and disappointing. First up, it's possible to dislike the representation of the character without shitting all over an excellent actor whose body of work is more than Disney can bound with contracts and Filoni's scripts. Disney got a full on smack in the face with Jon Boyega (who like Kelly Marie Tran got the shit end of the stick in 2 out of 3 of the sequels), you can bet that there are NDAs and 'you can't say mean things about us even if they're true' clauses.

Mostly I want to talk about age, illness, and injury and the way that people take it as a personal insult to their existence.

Let's start with the man himself. According to the Official Timeline (because everything eventually gets retconned and there is no actual canon) Thrawn was born 59BBY. He was 59 (two years older than I am now) when the space whales yeeted himself and as yet unknown other ships into the dark. Counting forward from the official timeline, he is at the very least 68 years old. He was in exceptional shape before the space whaling, yes. And no, he is not fully human, but is 'near human' - the Chiss evolved from human origins, their blue color explained in canon by something in the Csillan hydrosphere.

But let's look at this.

That is pain.

I'd guess about a 7 or 8.

Those tentacles are tight enough to hold him still, the twisting could induce torsion injuries to the spine and pelvis, cause spiral fractures to bone, dislocate joints, and compress/crush organs. Even with my Chiss physiology headcanon, I can't see anything but pain, crushing and twisting injuries, possibly with internal bleeding.

Additionally, I think that there could have been some kind of brain injury. While some of it could be the makeup and the lighting (or unlighting as the case may be), I think that the droop of one side of his mouth could be from nerve damage somewhere. My mother had a droop like that after a 'baby stroke' - transient ischemic attack.

He and Ezra were alone on the bridge, and he shot Ezra. Further, I can't see Ezra doing anything to help Thrawn after the credits roll. Once those Imps break through the blast door, he's going to be lucky to survive the fist minute.

In the great in-between that moment and the new canon?

So Thrawn, at the end of nine years is not just nine years older, but has managed to get his ship operable without a shipyard, not starve to death after the two years of consumables were gone, and not die of his injuries. (I've posted my theory that the survivors went into coldsleep to preserve the supplies.) Filoni has retconned bacta treatment into a magic potion - except when it isn't. The man is so inconsistent and wishy-washy that I could drive a 1960 Cadillac Eldorado through the smallest plot holes.

Y'all were expecting the buff blue daddy after all that. Elon Musk and 'dad bod.' I get it though, a lot of people invest in the concept of youth and health, go to extremes to hold onto it, even worship it - and denigrate the people who visibly age, are ill, or injured, or disabled. So many of the posts about Thrawn's portrayal in Ahsoka carry the stench of ableism and ageism. As for hating the character for his portrayal, blame Filoni instead.

#thrawn #ahsoka #grumpy about it #ageism #ableism

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look-at-the-soul · 2 years

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Moondance

Tommy Shelby x reader (one shot)

🌻I wrote this for @zablife followers celebration 🎉 Congratulations Lee!!! Soon you will be announcing many more! I hope you continue sharing your incredible stories.I’m glad I came across your page

🌷This idea has been running in my mind for a while, but I was able to complete it when @lyarr24 made the suggestion of this incredible song. Thank you so much Lee-Anne! Without your contribution, this story would be incomplete!

🤍 I have to thank my grandad for this inspiration, without his unusual (but adorable) way of being mad at my grandma, this story wouldn’t be happening 😋🥰

⚠️ Warning smut (light)

💠 Last but not least, this story also includes a flashback (in italics). The lyrics of the song is also in italics at the end.

“Tell your father I don’t want him smocking at the table.” Tommy dragged his gaze from the still unlighted cigarette between his fingers to his wife at the other end of the dining table. They were only a few steps apart and he could hear her perfectly.

Their son Collin approached him. “Mum says-”

“I heard what she said, thanks son.”

After years of marriage he had learned that whenever they weren’t speaking or they were mad at each other, they would start using one of their children -whoever was closest- to deliver a message to avoid another argument.

And he knew this so well because he was the one who started it. Over the first fight they had after they were married, Polly was in the middle of their argument, as he didn’t want to continue fighting Y/N, he simply came up with ‘Pol, would you kindly tell Y/N…’ -whatever that was- something stupid probably. In the beginning a very worried Pol was delivering the messages from Tommy to Y/N, then from Y/N until she was tired and realized they could go on the whole fucking day.

Then, as they moved to Arrow House and the business allowed them to level up their lifestyle and hire maids, first Mary, then Frances were the ones required to pass on the messages when they were mad at each other.

Now, their children were the chosen ones.

But even after all those years together, he hadn’t learnt to know the reason of what made her be so mad at him. Was it something he said? Something he did? Something he forgot to do?

It wasn’t her birthday, or their anniversary, so he was safe there. Ada would have reminded him if it was any of his children’s birthday.

“Tell your mum I will be in my office.” He said loud enough for his wife to hear, but if she wanted to play the ‘tell your father this or that…’ then so be it.

“Dad said he will be in his office.” Collin repeated. In his innocence he didn’t realize they could hear each other, they were just avoiding talking.

“Daddy you promised we would see our cousins.” Iris, reminded him. She had his nose, but her mother’s temper.

Over the years he had made many promises he hadn’t kept. But she was still so little to comprehend that.

Running the tip of the cigarette trough his lips he told her: “We can go another day sweetheart.”

Pacing the room, he was thinking of something that could have upset Y/N, but nothing came to his mind, they had been visiting Polly the weekend before, everything was going alright with the business, he gave her and their children everything they wanted, everything they needed, all four children were getting the greatest education in the country, he was running as a politician and were on the exclusive guest list of every important event.

What did he do this time to deserve her contempt?

And where the fuck was his newspaper?

A knock on the door distracted his busy mind.

“Come in.” He said after taking a long puff. Sophie, his eldest daughter poked her head.

“Daddy? Can you help me open the can please?” She had the same features as her mother, on the outside it was all Y/N, but on the inside… it was him. Reloaded.

“Of course, darling.” Offering his hand, he took the can. His strong fingers managed to open it in a matter of seconds. “Did your mother send you?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Is she mad at you?” A smirk gave away her amusement.

Tommy leaned against his desk. And after crossing his arms against his chest he answered Sophie with another question. “Could you… hmm… try and figure out what did I do this time?”

“That information is going to cost you.” Sophie smiled. Fucking hell that same bloody smile Y/N gave him and made his heart skip a beat.

“I can’t believe you are going to blackmail your old man.” He shook his head, a wide smiled spreading on her lips. “How many kisses this time?” He raised his eyebrows, expecting.

“The kisses rate has gone up.” The ten-year-old confessed. “And we go for a ride with Dangerous and Angel.”

Tommy tilted his head, his eyes studied his daughter for a few seconds, she didn’t even blink. Her requests seemed fair. They hadn’t gone for a ride in a while. From his children, Sophie was the one who loved the horses the most.

He could see so much of himself in her. But now he didn’t know if he should be proud of her or scared to death.

“Deal, my love.”

As Tommy saw her disappear from his office, he couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his lips.

But he still had to figure out the reason behind his wife’s annoyance. He downed his whiskey and poured himself another one. Frances announced she had the mail for him.

“Would you like some tea, Mr. Shelby?”

“No, thank you Frances.” He took the silver letter opener Y/N gifted him with his initials engraved. “Frances, do you know if Mrs. Shelby sent the condolences flowers to Mr. Churchill and his family?”

“She did, Mr. Shelby and she wrote the note on your behalf.”

“Did you get my newspaper today?” Frances nodded.

“Would you want me to ask Mrs. Shelby where she put it?”

“No, she’s probably planning to smack the shit out of me with that.”

Frances couldn’t hold the corner of her lips turning into a smirk, so she looked down, excusing herself.

After taking care of some business over the phone, he headed out of the office, the sweet smell of something in the oven took him back to simpler times, back in their first home in Watery Lane.

“Like this mama?” Oliver asked as he added the butter over the mix. He let the cubes fall so hard on the flour that it made a good portion of it land outside the bowl, to the table, the rest all over his clothes.

The laughs of Sophie, Collin and even baby Florence -conceived well, during their trip to Florence, Italy- barely a year old, squealed in delight, not even understanding what was happening, filled the kitchen.

“Stay away from the flour, sweetheart.” Tommy saw Y/N wrap her arms around their son and did a spin around herself, earning a happy sound coming off his little chest. He had her smile and eyes.

Stopping to put Oliver on his feet, Y/N smile disappeared immediately as she found her husband with his arms crossed against his chest, leaning on the door frame.

“Oh, please don’t stop your party for me.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat looking at him, but soon the love she felt for him was overshadowed by his lack of commitment to the most important thing; his family.

“Sophie, tell your father he can go back to attend whatever business he was doing.” It was a childish attitude, yes. But he started it years ago, she just learned from him and now it was the way she showed him that she was mad.

Those firsts times he wasn’t talking to her, just sending messages with Polly or the maids she would cry until she fell asleep, not understanding why he couldn’t just tell her what he wanted. No, instead he just stared at her with those piercing blue eyes, showing annoyance rather than his usual spark.

Now? She learned to play the same game, she was now able to hold his gaze. Pursing her lips, Y/N placed a hand on her hip.

“Why don’t you just tell him yourself? He’s right in front of you.”

Tommy was about to let out a loud laugh, but that would earn him not sleep in his own bed.

Y/N’s neck snapped so hard at Sophie. She was the living portrait of her father in every look, every word, even the way she walked.

Tommy winked at Sophie behind her mother, resuming his serious stare seconds later right after Y/N turned again to him.

“That smells good.” He cleared his throat.

“It’s for Polly.” Y/N cursed herself for falling in his game. She wasn’t supposed to talk to him.

“But Ma, you said we could eat it.” Collin complained.

“Mr. Shelby, Mrs. Ada is on the phone.” Frances announced. As he went to take that call, more things came up that held him inside his office for the rest of the day.

He didn’t have Saturdays or Sundays off like most of the people, he would work 24/7 if he could. Specially to give his family what he didn’t have when he was growing up.

Tommy stopped first by the room Oliver and Collin shared, Collin had his arm and right leg hanging from the edge of the bed, he turned his son gently to not wake him up. He turned off the lamp between the two beds. Then, he walked to his daughter’s bedroom, the window was open making the curtain move, carefully he tried to close it, but it made a noise.

“Daddy?” Sophie lifted her head from the pillow.

Tommy turned around to face her, approaching her bed.

“Yes, my love?” she made room for him, so he could sit. His little girl smiled when his hand brushed the hair out of her forehead.

“I know why Mum is upset with you… you owe me a ride.”

That would be his absolute pleasure. “I’m listening, shoot.”

“You promised her go dancing a month ago, but you never took her.” Tommy rubbed his eyes. He totally forgot about it.

Fuck.

“Will you forget you promised me going for a ride too?” The concern in her voice almost broke him.

Shaking his head, he kissed her cheek. “Absolutely not, sleep well darling, I will come pick you up early. Just you and me.” Kissing her one more time, he mentally kicked himself for forgetting that promise.

It was almost midnight when he made it to the master bedroom, the lights were off, the French doors to the small balcony open, the moonlight going through the bedroom, falling in a cascading form lighting her frame, she had her back at him, her rhythmic breathing could make anyone think she was sleeping, but she wasn’t. He knew her so well, her breathing, the way her body relaxed when she was finally drifted away, every curve, every smile, every look, every wave of pleasure he provoked in her.

Tommy got rid of his holster and gun, then unbuttoning his shirt he got rid of it, his shoes following. The bed sank down a little when he sat… lying down over the sheets, he looked to his left.

“Do you want to know why I always ask any of our children to tell you something when I’m upset with you?” In silence, Y/N turned in bed to face her husband. Curiosity winning her over.

“Because you can’t stand me to the point of even talk to me?”

Tommy shook his head. He was now lying on his side, facing Y/N completely.

“It’s because I love you to the point that I couldn’t forgive myself if I said something that could hurt you, while being upset.” He confessed.

“Tommy.” She was out of breath now. Her palm caressed his cheek, Tommy brought it to his lips where he left a tender kiss that tingled her whole body.

There were no words that could express the amount of love these two had towards each other. His words now made sense with his actions, he preferred to stay away from her while he was still angry in order to not hurt her feelings by his words.

With guilty running through her, Y/N leaned on her elbow to kiss her husband for the first time that day. Their lips finally meeting after being apart for what seemed like forever. Tommy felt intoxicated by her scent. She couldn’t believe what he just confessed.

“I’m sorry I forgot to take you dancing.” He whispered once they broke apart.

“It’s fine.” Y/N reassured him.

“Mrs. Shelby… Would you dance with me?” He covered the hand she had placed over his heart.

The smile he adored returned to decorate her lips.

“But it’s midnight.”

“And there’s moonlight…”

“So we are going to have a Moondance?” Her eyes lighted up at the memories.

(Flashback)

As they signed the papers, Tommy went to the betting shop, that day closed for the bets. Y/N turned up the radio, the song filling the shop, they still had to share the news with his family, they would go crazy.

“Mr. Shelby?”

“Yes Mrs. Shelby?” He had a cigarette hanging from his mouth. The day light was almost gone, but she saw the moon already.

“Dance with me?” A flirty smile took him by surprise.

“Always.”

(End of flashback)

“Come dance with me.” He got up from the bed and helped her as well. They walked to the gramophone in the corner of the room. The saxophone sound counteracting the silence of the night.

Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance With the stars up above in your eyes

Tommy extended his hand to her, and pulled Y/N closer to his body, she was only wearing an ivory nightgown, her hair down. He guided her close to the large window.

A fantabulous night to make romance 'Neath the cover of October skies

“Thank you, for everything you do for us.” Y/N admitted. He worked so hard, made his best to protect them.

And all the leaves on the trees are falling To the sound of the breezes that blow

His hand holding her back. They moved to the rhythm of the music. Hers around his neck. Both leaning in for a kiss.

“I could say the same thing about you.”

You know I'm tryin' to please to the calling Of your heartstrings that play soft and low

“You keep us safe.”

You know the night's magic seems to whisper and hush You know the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush

Tommy kissed her lips before swirling her, to seconds later, his left hand found its way to her back again.

Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love? Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love?

Y/N looked from his blue eyes, down to his lips. Their dance slowing down, while their heartbeats were speeding up. Their lips met one more time, devouring each other’s. Their undergarments scattered around the floor as their hands showed the other how much they cared.

Well, I wanna make love to you tonight I can't wait 'til the mornin' has come

Leaning Y/N against the French door frame, Tommy wrapped her legs around his waist, his lips on her neck as their hips met. One deep thrust and he found his way back home. Swallowing her moan as she kissed his mouth as Y/N moved against him, her hands using his shoulders for support.

Well, I wanna make love to you tonight I can't wait 'til the mornin' has come

Hiding his face in the crook of her neck, Tommy felt her hand on top of head, pulling his hair a little.

You know, I know now the time is just right And straight into my arms you will run

Their bodies dancing in perfect sync.

And when you come, my heart will be waiting To make sure that you're never alone There and then all my dreams will come true, dear There and then I will make you my own

He knew she was reaching that point.

And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside And I know how much you want me, that you can't hide

Her body giving away how much she was enjoying it.

Reaching her release. His, a few seconds later.

Their eyes locked, as their bodies were still linked, dancing with the last musical notes.

Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?

That night he was starting to keep his promises, that dance was the first thing on his list. That night, just like the first one they spent together they had the best dance of their lives.

Full of love, full of life, their dance lighted by the moon.

***** Masterlist If you want to be tagged in another Tommy Shelby/Cillian Murphy stories, let me know.

#That's what Cill said #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #cillian murphy x tommy shelby #cillian murphy smut #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #Tommy Shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader

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urwendii · 6 months

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🧡🎃🕷 inspired by a fun conversation with @cilil and @a-world-of-whimsy-5 on our Discord server based on this spider night light robot

Mairon is bored and decides to prank Melkor. What can go wrong.

In retrospect Mairon should have known it was bound to end badly, he had been by his Master's side for long years now, had witnessed his rises and falls and seen the scars of the Silmarils left on his spirit. Melkor, in recent days, was not someone to casually challenge or taunt without fearing any sort of retribution.

Still, Mairon was a craftsman, an inventor, and someone who simply had to do what he wished to do when the ideas arise. Maybe it was because he had been bored lately, there was not much to do during the Siege except sending your usual Orcs company and watch them being slaughtered from the top of the parapet. The entertainment was turning dull though and after watching some nameless Noldo flip the finger at him from his perch and turning the offending asshole into a charred spot on the ground, even that did not provide any sort of relief for his increasing boredom. And as a few Angband courtiers had long realised, a bored Lieutenant never bode well for anyone.

So it turned out that he — after ignoring the sour mood of his lover and retreating to his study — Mairon had an idea in which to channel his sudden burst of creativity. And perhaps Melkor should not have told him off earlier, and perhaps Mairon should been used to the swinging moods of the Vala but really he was simply taken by inspiration — and a slight penchant for pranks he might have kept from his time spent in friendship with Ossë, long ago.

And so once he was done working on it and gushing about his cleverness and genius — and having two Orcs repeat these same words exactly to him (the satisfaction of a well done job was the sweetest when covered with praises. Even if he had to force them out of his armies lately.) — he climbed back to the top floor where he and Melkor shared living quarters, to set things in motion.

The small contraption was made of dark metal and carefully woven limbs spanning the opposite sides of its round body. 8 legs, each articulated and built for great speed as well as flexibility to climb on various surface. A cubic luminous shape sat upon it, its golden halo gentle and warm — unlike the blazing cursed light of those stupid jewels his lover was so enamoured with (no Mairon did not want to discuss this particular topic.)

It was really a glorious creation, a light spider. He chuckled in amusement at how it was the opposite of Ungoliant and her unlight even if the shape of his creation bore the same likeness, albeit on a far smaller scale.

The thing was, Mairon had wanted to prank Melkor out of boredom and humour. What he had forgotten to take into account was the Vala's newfound hatred and fear of spiders (not that he would dare say this to his lover's face. Melkor and fear were a touchy subject. Well, one of many).

And so when the high pitch shrill came from his room followed by a loud banging noise, more screams and what definitely sound like broken furniture, Mairon knew he had to think fast.

The room had been trashed into ruins while Melkor swing Grond around with a panicked wild flash in his eyes and the poor spider was tucked on top of the huge wardrobe that took half the space of the northern wall.

"Mairon! Kill this thing!!"

He really did not want, the little thing was very cute with her own luminous body but one shattered window later and Melkor was now using ice to attempt to freeze the poor thing. And failing miserably at proper aiming. And by the 4th attempt of Mairon trying to coax the small thing to him to remove it safely to his study and then forced to realise it had now grew sentient (yes well he was proud of this too) and seemed determine to persecute his lover by chasing him down the hallway, Gothmog and another Valarauka had offered their help. Delicateness was not a balrog trait and by the end of the struggle — weeks later, half of the living quarters of Anbgand had been laid to waste.

Less to say that — extensive material damage aside— Mairon was not surprised at all when he was later sent to retake Tol Sirion by himself.

Still. It had been worth it.

#angbang #mairon #melkor #melkor x mairon #mairon x melkor #prompt: tolkien lgdrm #silly silly thing i write at midnight

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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 1 year

Photo

Marduk - Those of the Unlight cover art by Misja Baas

#Marduk #Misja Baas #Those of the Unlight #black metal #j r r tolkien #jrr tolkien #The Nazgûl #nazgûl #the dark knight #painting #artwork #art #Illustration #metal #black metal album #cover #cover art

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ceescedasticity · 8 months

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fic: well-behaved women (rarely make history)

Sixteen times Artanilmë Angarátiel failed to make it into the historical record.

1. Finwë's first great-grandchild might have drawn a great deal of attention. But Angaráto and Eldalótë were aware of this, and wary of it; they dwelled in Arafinwë's house near Alqualondë and visited Tirion only discreetly, until Artanilmë was no longer a child and also was not Finwë's only great-grandchild. (Nor was this itself notable: Curufinwë and Turukáno in turn also strictly limited their children's public appearances while they were children.)

2. Studying and practicing healing is just not a notable thing for a Noldorin woman to do, even in the royal house. It was more notable that she was one of the first to treat (accidental) sword injuries, and studied Lindarin techniques not dependent on the Valar in order to do so discreetly, but not being obvious about that was the entire point.

3. Artanilmë did not join the debate at the bonfires; with her brother, grandfather, father, uncles, and aunt already there, she felt any opinion she might offer would be superfluous. There were still many people suffering the effects of the Unlight, and others who had been injured in the panic of the Darkening. She was needed more elsewhere.

4. Perhaps it would have been noted had she acted on her impulse to refuse her aid to any Noldor injured in the Kinslaying at Alqualondë. (They had no right to expect the teachings of the Lindar to help them now.) But she looked to her duty, and swallowed her grief and rage to tend the wounded, though in stony silence.

5. No one was writing history while crossing the Grinding Ice, nor did anyone wish to speak of it afterwards. The brutal learning curve of the limits of healing when the healers themselves were at their limits was not discussed. Artanilmë nearly killing herself failing to save a child was not discussed. The reinvention of amputation was not discussed.

6. Arameldis was never the only one bringing Doriathrin medical knowledge to the Noldor and vice versa. There were healers of the Falathrim and the Northern Sindar who crossed the borders as freely, and the odd healer of Doriath who came forth, and Galadriel also learned and shared many things. And, regardless, none of that was thought interesting enough for anyone's annals.

7. Many Noldor reached out to provide aid and wisdom to the Edain. Not so many sought to learn from the Edain in turn, but Arameldis was certainly not alone in the House of Finarfin in doing so. The treatise she wrote on best practice for elven healers treating injury or illness of Men was of limited interest outside of the community of healers and some conscientious leaders.

8. Perhaps it would have been noted had Arameldis died with her father and uncle in the Dagor Bragollach. But she was ordered to lead the retreat and evacuation to Nargothrond, and followed those orders, and the journey was not as perilous as some.

9. When Beren came to Nargothrond, Arameldis was in the Falas, lending her skills to those without a hidden city to keep them safe. Had she been present, perhaps her strength and her counsel might have made some difference, or at least captured enough attention to be recorded; but she was not.

10. Had Arameldis returned while Celegorm and Curufin ruled in Nargothrond, she might have been able to stir the people to drive them out: She was not wounded as Orodreth was, and she was older and taken more seriously than Finduilas, and a battlefield healer must be able to stand her ground against irrational princes. But she suspected nothing of the state of things at home until Finrod's death.

11. Some in Nargothrond witnessed the debate of Orodreth and Arameldis over the Union of Maedhros. Voices were raised, tears were shed, and many of the arguments for and against joining were neatly summarized. It would likely have entered the histories of the First Age had any of the survivors of Nargothrond spoken of it. They did not. Survivors of Nargothrond seldom spoke of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

12. That Arameldis appeared for the Fifth Battle was far less notable than Gwindor's small defiant force. She went where she was needed in those days; it did not need to be said. No one thought she would be needed at Gwindor's side. If she tried to scream any orders from the rear no one took note of it.

13. Arameldis shed her share of the tears. She kept working until she was forcibly carried away by Mablung of Doriath. And she did not speak of it for anyone to write of it, save only: "I can recognize a mortal wound." This was, perhaps, too cryptic to be thought worth repeating.

14. Finduilas did not seek Arameldis's insight on the matter of Túrin. Why would she? Her aunt was very open that she had no experience in even simple matters of the heart. Arameldis was involved in what healing they could offer Gwindor. Obviously.

15. On the matter of the bridge and later Círdan's warnings she was publicly silent. When Orodreth sought her counsel in private, she had little to say. Venturing forth to seek battle was a terrible risk, evacuating in a large group was a terrible risk, and if they stayed where they were and did nothing they would surely die of internal injuries, metaphorically speaking. She had no conclusion.

16. Of course Arameldis rode out with the warriors of Nargothrond. Of course she was at Tumhalad. Of course she was slain. Of course none of the handful of survivors saw her fall. They could only say she was definitely dead, not captured, and while that was preferable it was also not noteworthy.

#a tolkien tag #reckless application of spackle #I am probably going to keep going with these self-indulgent extended family tree things #because that's what the writing brain is interested in writing #oh well

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asktheplethaura · 3 months

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Total Drama: Liberation of the Slaughtered

((Authors Note: I'm waking up- - - to ash and dust- - - I wipe my ass and I slap ma nuts- - -))

Five years... and yet all of the events of he past still feel as though they had happened yesterday.

Stepping off a boat and looking over a bright thriving island as birds flew overhead, and people chattered to each other around the docking area. Fresh sea water and winding laughter as everyone made their first enemies or friends.

All of these bright memories were diminished with a dark shadow. A permenant membrance of pain and past agony.

Yet, with all these small, fond memories lingering in his mind, there were whispers of those awful days spent in a living hell that had only stopped when they had been rescued.

The dread that danced on his stomach, and the hours of waiting as time ticked by, wondering just who was unfortunate enough to be caught by the serial maniac that roamed the island and claimed 15 of their lives.

Brutal, hopeless... awful.

Disgusting.

. . .

Despite being over, it never really was over. Not to him. It never would be over, until there was closure.. and closer had not reached him. Not yet. There could never be closure with circumstances such as these.

~ ~ ~

Cody paces around the darkened room of his small 1-story house. He raked his hands through his hair as he looks around the darkened space, feeling both unwelcome, yet so at home in this awful room.

Barren, unlight, free of sunlight or warmth. Just like the days that followed the first death at Camp Wawanakwa. Everyday he was on edge, looking over his shoulder as he just couldn't help the feeling of being watched or just or judged.

The years following the rescue of him and the other 7 survivors were not pretty. Not for him. In a word full of pain, why would he of all people get it easy? Why would he have any freedom from these feelings that tormented him, and nagged at him still?

Ever since they were rescued... Cody had to admit he never kept in contact with the others. Everyone that survived... they didn't hate him. He didn't think so- but for most of them, he wasn't their friend. He was just someone else who somehow managed to make it out alive.

It was... rather funny actually. In a way. Cody Anderson, a so called puny dweeb and even arguably pathetic boy managed to survive such an event when tougher people than himself had been killed.

Perhaps it was the survivors guilt kicking him in the ass. Maybe it was just him looking for a reason to feel sorry for himself, considering how little he suffered compared to anyone else.

Cody had a knack for surviving. He just had this stupid motherfucking way of surviving a lot of what... would be considered impossible. Getting mauled by wild animals, getting harassed by others who antagonized him from time to time. Falling down ledges and carrying 3 other boys that were at least 2x his weight during one challenge.

He himself was an enigma. How had he even survived that long?

Perhaps... if he had died with the others... he wouldn't be as lonely as he was now. Contemplating his life, and remniscing over such traumatic events that he could have maybe opted to heal from years ago when help was being offered.

The others... they didn't quite move on. But they were coping better than he was.

Gwen dropped most of her gothic wardrobe, and started dressing a bit more like trent. Hell, she even managed to find a shirt exactly like his online a couple years ago... according to her social media page.

She works with her younger cousin in a pet care facility.

Good for her. She had her life... not together but back on track.

Because life goes on.

Leshawna changed quite a bit. She cut her hair considerably shorter, and eventually invested in reading glasses. She was now in computer programming. Working on putting a game toghether. The main character was a ginger haired geek, with 'sick ninja skills' last cody read.

Leshawna found a partner and he treated her well. They were making the game together, maybe? Cody wouldn't know. All he was sure of was that Leshawna was healing, as most of them were.

Because life goes on...

Duncan had found himself getting into office work. Something that no one ever saw happening. He never dropped his green and black hair, but over time- he let go of his piercings, and started dressing at least a little more casually.

Commemmorating Courtney with his changes- he wasn't quite happy... in fact... his life was quite dull. But he felt closer to the deceased. Confiding in organization and planning out his life, even if it was just a little bit.

He would get used to it... or... finish getting used to it.

Because life goes on...

Katie grew her hair out, and put on a little weight. She works with her mother in the sweets shop. She had found herself a girlfriend, and even adopted a child.

She had not yet come back to her usual chipper self- but she was trying. Visiting her best friends grave every single week.

Beause... life goes on.

Izzy vanished for a long while, only coming back recently after passing a clean bill of mental health from the local sanitarium. She had lost herself after the events of the island, and due to not having much of anyone by her side anymore- she had tried to commit.

She had a reputation for being crazy. Even if only a few episodes aired, she was looked at strange by many people after her rescue.

Thinking she may be the killer, who managed to get free of the rightful sentancing she deserved... or something. Her and Eva got together sometime after that.

Because... life goes ... on.

Speaking of Eva... she had been effected the least negatively, but it effected her all the same. Eva didn't have close friends during the events of the islands murder spree. She wasn't close to anyone because of her brash attitude and aggressive nature.

Even if she was inspirational.

She had her own regrets. She was a tough, scary woman when provoked. Facing Chef Hatchet on many occasions. Chef, who was not nice on most.

Eva was competant and capable... so... what stopped her from trying to kill or neutralize the killer?

Maybe it was the fact that... even if Chef seemed crazy or scary at times... there was also the lingering knowledge that chef would not purposefully kill or maim them. (At least, of his own accord)

The killer already took out several people before he would have been close to them. People that died not because they were SIMPLY stabbed to death or something.

The killer was a sadistic maniac. This maniac loved to cause pain and make others distressed. Dead bodies were playthings. Along with the lives of the innocent that stained their hands red with blood.

Even so, she couldn't help but feel guilty.

But... he got better.

Because...

be...cause. . .

____

No. Life does not just 'go on'.

Cody thought about the former camp mates that he forced himself out of contact with as he threw a glass bottle against the wall with a tired grunt of pain and melancholic misery.

No.

Even if life was always changing or 'ongoing' it never continued on.

Cody was stuck in his own box. His own box of regret, and overthinking everything that had happened. He did always get attached too easily... way... way too easily...

He brought his fingers up to the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh. "Everyone's gone ahead and I left myself behind... now I'm alone all over again." he sighed, before leaning agaisnt the windowsill, barely bothering to peer through the blinds.

Still alone... out here in the outskirts of town.

Biding his time as he waits to hopefully allow himself to heal from this trauma. Half a decade of freedom, and he was still trapped in his own cage, fueled by guilt and denial.

In the end... the only reason he had not calimed freedom... was becaus he never let himself be free.

Perhaps... he never would.

Closing his eyes, he let his wet eyes rest as he flopped on his somewhat tattered cough with a low thump, a sigh escaping him.

With his exhaustion and lack of self care, he tired out quickly. Falling asleep where he sat within half a minute, his head lulled to the side and he found himself consumed by darkness.

((To Be Continued))

((IDEK if I will continue this.lmao))

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azulsluver · 2 years

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May i request yan!Silver whos always finding ways to follow MC and has been getting more crafty with gathering intel? Yes he is still very loyal to Malleus and doesnt slack off but Silver also has been watching you from the sidelines and pops up just in time whenever there's trouble

tw. Yandere, stalking, mentions of marriage, unhealthy mindset. (Lilia’s fault)

Silver wouldn’t take much interest with you at first, not until he figures out why Malleus was so keen on walking out on late nights. As Malleus’s guard, it’s important to watch with a sharp eye whenever your name is even mentioned. Lilia would scold him playfully for overthinking, that he should be more laid back and respectful to the future King’s first friend. Taking his word, Silver will pay you a visit, a hand written apology laid neatly in your mailbox.

It may be the last you’ll hear from him, explaining how a responsible knight is always a busy one. With so little interaction, you’d bid him goodbye and leave words of longing as two friends. It was so sweet of you, the remembrance of your voice has his chest cheesing. Silver isn’t fond of the feeling, seeking you out more often just from a mutter of your name. Finding himself more interested with you, a kind soul in a world full of villains. You wouldn’t notice Silver from afar, seeing him meant Malleus was near, it wouldn’t hurt to indulge yourself for some small chit chat. Appreciating you for worrying about him, its a nice change of pace in his dull life.

Silver would be conflicted towards you, you’re no threat at all so why does he get mixed feelings with you? Sometimes, when you’re with Malleus, he’d accompany you both much to Malleus dismay. To voice his reasons, it was to make sure nothing went wrong, nothing else. But even he will question himself, finding things such as your favorite restaurant and snack, or the type of clothing brand you enjoy buying. That shouldn’t be normal. In fact, he thinks it’s borderline creepy. Silver would be disgusted with his own behavior, a friend shouldn’t be knowing these types of things with someone their not close to. With these unsure emotions, his last resort would to report with Lilia, only would he console his guilt.

Lilia would lounge in his room, upside down with a mischievous glint behind those eyes, he’s never seen this side of Silver. A dangerous confession it was, the poor soul of a crush gone terribly wrong.

“Ohoho? Little Silver looking so troubled, don’t fret now. It’s normal for kids your age to seek those you like. Special ones to be exact.” Poking fun of Silver’s expression, Lilia continues to rant on.

“You might find it strange but its common for one wanting to know more of the person they love.”

“Love?” Silver bashfully repeated the word, a look of doubt flashes his face.

Lilia smiles gleefully. “Why yes! Don’t you have a sudden urge to protect them? To know them better as a whole, It’ll help you during the long run and in no time, you’ll woo them into your arms!” Clasping his hands together, Lilia looked to be as one happily planning a future wedding and not one planting a seed of false morality. But Lilia’s his parent figure, wasn’t everything he said good advice, his gut feeling telling him otherwise. Taking in his words of encouragement, he continues his far observation. It’s not hurting anyone he says, as long as you didn’t know, Silver will continue to be your knight from the shadows.

He started to get more creative when it came to watching you from the distance, certain that what he was doing was for the best. Silver would blend with the crowd as you shop for groceries, walk down the unlighted streets at night as you enter your car, going as far to watch you sleep. Just with less guilt.

It was to protect you, the very sentence keeping him sane if he just sugar coats it enough. He’s not sure how long he can do this, balancing over watching you and Malleus at the same time pricks at his anxiety. His feelings are getting the better of him, there has to be a way to manage the burning desire to keep you safe.

Silver would protect you until he finally caved in his worries of harm being done to you. Certain that a future spouse should be well taken care of under his surveillance. And what’s no better way to tie you with him. He might have to make a proposal with Lilia about wedding receptions.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #silver x reader #twst silver x reader

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gsirvitor · 6 months

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Are you a fan of Lovecraft Mythos? If so can you explain to me the so called blind idiot god? It is say we are part of his enteral dream, yet I can barely comprehend it.

A fan?! That's putting it too simply, I adore, and live for the Mythos Lovecraft created.

[O]utside the ordered universe [is] that amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the center of all infinity—the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time and space amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin monotonous whine of accursed flutes.

The Blind Idiot God, Nuclear Chaos, Daemon Sultan, Abyssal Idiot, Lord of All, Him in the Gulf, the Deep Dark, the Cold One, Sleeping Chaos, Supreme Lord and Creator of All Things, Blind Dreamer, King of All, Primordial Demiurge, Chaos-Sultan, Achamoth, Vach-Viraj, is but a few of His uncountable names, yet, most know Him as Azathoth.

He is a Primordial being, an Outer God that exists outside of space and time, He is a cosmic, boundless deity of colossal proportion and the great and all-powerful ruler of the Outer Gods and creator of all of existence.

He is omnipotent beyond the power of the Great Old Ones, such as Cthulhu, and even his fellow Outer Gods, including Yog-Sothoth and all other beings, He is the sole most powerful being in the entire mythos.

According to theories within the Mythos, all of reality is merely a part of Azathoth's dream, unknowingly created by Him. When, or if, Azathoth awakens, all things will end, once and for all, and all will once again be Azathoth.

So, it is said to be stuck in endless slumber and is served upon by countless deities that play a maddening tunes on innumerable drums and flutes to keep Him from awakening,

It's a similar concept to the idea of the Godhead, in both Christian theology and the Elder scrolls series, in Christianity I'm not talking about the modern concept of the Godhead, I'm talking about the ancient gnostic understanding of it, so rather than the Trinity.

Now, there are many Gnostic systems, with various emanations of God, these emanations are differently named, classified, and described, however it is agreed they are all lesser emanations of the divine.

Think of it like the Greek Titanomachy, from nothing and chaos came the Primordial beings, from them came the Titans, from them came the Gods and from them the mortal races.

Azathoth is the same in this respect, from Him came the outer gods and creation, and so on, but unlike the other Godhead ideas this is based on a dream, this is where the Elder Scrolls comes in.

The idea of the Godhead in the Elder Scrolls is based on Azathoth, in the Elder Scrolls it is the only known Supreme Being which is said to be responsible for the existence of the Aurbis.

This entity is said to be in a state of unending slumber, and during this time it unconsciously manifested Aurbis from its dreams.

When a mortal being becomes aware of this cosmic truth, they are said to achieve one of two states depending on the individual's willpower: CHIM, the state in which one may become a 'lucid dreamer' within the Godhead's dream, or Zero Sum, an occurrence in which the mortal will become erased from existence, this is what happened to the Dwemer.

Think of these states like this, when you exist in the dream and realize you are a part of the dream, you have two choices, realize you can shape reality for it is a dream, or realize you don't really exist, one is CHIM, one is reaching Zero Sum.

Individuals such as Lorkhan, Vivec, Talos, achieved CHIM, with Talos achieving something even greater afterward, when you have achieved CHIM you become aware of the Godhead, the sleeping being that holds all of creation in its dream, when you do this you can achieve something known as Amaranth.

CHIM is the first step to Amaranth. However, CHIM is selfishness. Those who achieve CHIM only do something when they want to, out of personal gain such as Tiber Septim removing Cyrodiil's Jungle to make his Army more efficient.

But Amaranth is selflessness. Those who achieve Amaranth sacrifice themselves to dream a new dream, and lose all power they had before.

The Godhead of a dream doesn't have any power over his own dream, the only thing the Godhead can do is sleep and dream, or wake and cease dreaming.

This is what Azathoth is, hope it helped explain things, though I doubt it did.

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istaricelebelasse · 7 months

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Maedhros at the end of Beleriand

TW: suicidal thoughts, death.

It hurt.

Maedhros did not know that he could feel such pain. He had thought that Angband and the Nirnaeth had dulled him to it.

But the Silmaril searing his flesh, telling him he was evil, that hurt.

He would have cried, if his tears had not long again been burned out of him.

Had this been how Morgoth had felt, even as he struck down Maedhros’ grandfather?

Smoke rose around him. Filled his lungs and stung his eyes. It was a familiar sensation.

Fire.

So much of his life had been marked by the flames.

The fires of Formenos that went out as The Unlight approached. The flickering flames that only added to the confusion of Alqualondë. The burning of the ships.

The death of his father.

The fires that had burned and danced and hurt…

The flames that destroyed his brothers’ lands. Those that curled around Fingon and dragged him to Mandos.

Fire at Doriath and Sirion and the torches of orcs as they marched on Amon Ereb.

Fire.

It would be poetic.

The sort of song that Fingon might once have sung.

A fitting end.

Even the Silmaril seemed to agree. It pulsed in his hand even as it burned.

Fire and flame and burning. A fitting end for the son of Fëanaro.

The first smile in decades tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Maybe he would get to see his kin again before the Darkness took hold.

Maybe, just maybe, the Void would let him rest.

The fires of the earth called to him.

And he answered.

#maedhros #silmarillion #silm fic #war of wrath #silmarils #tw suicidal thoughts #tw death #tw suicide

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novemberthecatadmirer · 1 year

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Headcanon about Morgoth, the Void and Dagor Dagorath

My crazy headcanon is Morgoth initially stole the Silmarril because he wanted to make sure Yavanna could not use them to make new Trees. Yes the gems were beautiful but he had no use for them.

Then in the horrible Unlight he looked at Ungoliant, this creature from the Void, this being that just existed and eating and eating and never create anything, this thing that’s hunger itself, and realized, Oh.

He realized he could become something like this. Actually, he would become something like this. He already lost the ability to create and he could feel the desire to destroy, the desire to twist and eliminate everything others created, that desire was growing stronger and stronger inside him. He remembered originally he knew what he wanted to create, he wanted to undo the world and build a new one in his way. But now he could no longer recall the full picture of his new world. It was a past dream that was quickly fading, replaced by the wish to just destroy everything. Like a Spider.

He realized he was slowly becoming a Spider. He was already on this path. He had used his one chance to turn back to firmly push himself further down in this direction. Too late.

The family he betrayed, they knew, some of them. He remembered Namo listening to his yelling like some of those elves listening to their horrible kids throwing a fit. Nenna cried for him. Este tried to invite him for tea and demanded him to “heal himself.” Ulmo hated him. Yavanna stayed away from him like he was some kind of foul things that will make her sick. Varda looked at him with that mocking, knowing smile. “I know where you are going,” she once mouthed to him. He remembered Manwe looked so sad. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” His brother, too good to understand evil, ever so condescending, asked him with real concern. He hated it.

Now he understood. Indeed. Why would anyone do this to themselves? Why would anyone condemn themself to become a Spider and end up being claimed by the Void? Of course Manwe knew this. He was the one who knew the most about the vision of Arda. He was the one who knew better. Unable to understand evil? How do you understand why someone do something, when you fully understand doing that brings only harm to themselves? How do you understand why someone do things that will make them a slave of the Void?

Probably the One was the only one that could forgive him now. If he begged. But he would not beg. He might have threw away everything but he had his pride.

The Silmarils burned his hands. Good! That meant he was still NOT a Spider. How foolish the Ungliant was to ask for the gems. He did not know what would happen if the Spider touched them, but nothing good. Maybe they’ll cancel out each other, the Strength and Love and Hope of this world and the Hopeless Hunger from the Void existed before the world was made.

He was going to keep the gems. He was going to clench them until and after the end of this world. He was not going to let them go. They were going to keep him safe, AWAY from the Void. With the Silmarils he would never become a Spider. Everything was going to be well.

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I think the Silmarils really mattered more to Morgoth than them mattered more to anyone else. My headcanon is the more depressed you are the more attractive the gems feel to you. Morgoth basically was drowning in Nihilism in the end of his character arc.

The worst thing to happen to an artist that live for making things is losing the ability to create. Morgoth did that to himself. He did not knew it; he thought he was just going to have fun destroying other people’s artwork and his own creativity would bear no harm. Actually he was the one who got harmed the most. Yet he still would not regret and say sorry and mean sorry, because he would always try to convince himself there would be other solutions (world domination and the Silmarils) that would help him without hurting his pride and forcing him to take responsibilities.

(The evil is clever but also stupid.)

It’s interesting that Morgoth ended up in the Void soon after losing the Silmarils.

My crazy headcanon is the Valar did not push Morgoth into the Void. They would not do that to anyone.

The Void came for him. The Void claimed him, because he was already a creature of the Void. Then the Void swallowed him whole.

He would never escape.

——————————

As for the Dagor Dagorath? My headcanon is it’s not Morgoth breaking out of the Void. Instead it was going to be the opposite way round: It would be Arda sliding into the Void.

When Arda Marred got so aged and damaged, it started to slide into the Void like Morgoth and ungoliant did. That’s why human were so important in that; a lot of elves probably were just too depressed to fully reject the Void.

(Morgoth would escape but that hardly mattered. He would already became a Spider and it would be like a drowned cat trying to climb onto a sinking ship in desperation.

Also that’s why the human left Arda would “return.” They did not. The world just joined them instead. And they’ll be able to rekindle the world with the Hope they found in places out of the world.

#tolkien #silmarillion #the silmarillion #silm #silm meta #silmarillion meta #silm headcanon #silmarillion headcanon #morgoth #melkor #arda #dagor dagorath

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