beloved he

Giving up liquor had been difficult. It seemed he was only truly able to sleep though the night when intoxication robbed him of consciousness, but he had made a promise to his beloved; he would stay clean. They both would. Now that the war was over, that they had each other again, there was no need for substances to fill the void left by lack of affection. Was there?

He wakes, cold and sweating, still gripped by night terrors until his senses return. The Ishgardian instinctively reaches for the bottle that had, for so long, sat on his bedside table, a well-acquainted friend on the nights when dreams of fire and blood would startle him, though his fingers merely grasp at shadows. He takes a few steadying breaths, the adrenaline fading, leaving a queasy pit in his stomach, and he rises from the satin sheets, careful to not disturb the golden Wildwood so peacefully wrapped in slumber. Istolin dresses simply; trousers, boots, and gloves. It is early enough in the morning for him to have the entire city to himself, and he does not plan on feeling the Coerthan chill for long.

The moves are familiar, and he finds comfort in the way the steel sings through the frigid air, the weight of the longsword feeling more a part of him as he goes through the motions.

One, two, three.

One, two, block.

One, two, three.

One, two–

The aevis keep coming, more and more rushing the gates of the keep. Discipline has deserted him as he swings almost blindly, felling beast after beast, praying the gates are repaired, that the call to fall back is sounded soon. His body aches, limbs screaming in protest as he blocks a blast of static, driving his blade up through the roof of the spoken’s gaping maw. His lungs burn, heart pounding in his ears. Distantly, he hears his name but cannot place it amidst the chaos.

He spins, blade stopping but an ilm away from impact, frozen in place as the scene fades from his mind and reality returns, blade and shield tumbling from his grasp. Istolin reaches out for his beloved, anguish painted on his features, haggard and gaunt from Fury knows how many sleepless nights.

“Forgive me… I could not… I did not…” Words failed as the knot in his throat grew, jaw clenching in frustration of just how pathetic he felt in this moment. Pale eyes search those golden features for any sign the Wildwood might have had enough of the Ishgardian, but as aether blue meet green, those emerald depths holding naught but love and acceptance, he cannot help the sob that is pulled from him.

Eventually, he is coaxed back indoors, the cold long since setting in and leaving him trembling as he presses close to Vaughn’s warmth, clinging to the man as if he were drowning at sea. Some days, the metaphor seemed rather more apt than others.

And some days, giving up liquor was difficult. But on nights like this, it felt damn near impossible.

voiceintheradio  asked:

But it's so little. Anti can't continue like this, and they both know it. So the next message he sends Dark is just "I'll be back. Don't forget about me. I love you". And then it's silent. For years, there is no sign of Anti. Until one day, a person glitches into Dark's home, someone he doesn't know, except he knows some popular YouTubers (or whatevs is the platform of the future). But that person quickly reveals itself to be Anti. He had to get a new form, corrupt someone else for attention. (3

//Gosh I had to think about this for a second because Dark would honestly be in such a frail state of mind. He knows he can’t die so he has no choice but to wait for Anti, I wonder if demon years go quicker? Hm.

Jfc Dark would be so THRILLED to see his beloved again, he doesn’t give a damn if Anti looks different.

Can you believe that piece of shit, John McCain is going to get the best health care money can buy while he battles cancer and yet he’s actually going to vote for the destruction of the affordable care act so that less fortunate people with cancer can just die? Can you believe that he sees NOTHING wrong with that? Can you believe that this didn’t instill some compassion within him and help him to better understand and carry out his beloved Christian values that he never shuts the fuck up about? Neither can I.


Noctis: for my beloved Eav

fic idea: some time after Ahsoka has left the order but before the siege of mandalore, she ends up crossing path with anakin and obi wan mostly by accident

they’re hold up in the middle of nowhere around a campfire, and one of the clones jokingly suggests a game of never have I ever to pass the time

and then after several embarassing instances of Ahsoka teasing Anakin (never have I ever kissed a senator *wink wink*) he just growls out bitterly “never have I ever left the jedi order” and then Obi-Wan drinks.

Obi wan. Drinks.

Everyone freaks out, Anakin spits his water, the clones all do double takes


Whatever Chirrut had become in his life – and without the temple he could not truly be a Guardian of the Whills; without joy and frivolity he could not be a clown and jokester among sober peers; without the Holy City he could not be a protector of his beloved world – whatever he was, he was not a warrior at heart, and the events of the day had eroded his spirit. While Baze, his brother and ward, had embraced his role with vicious resolve, Chirrut had fought and run and killed because fighting and running and killing were necessary.

Now they were necessary no longer, and he was glad.


YOI royalty AU in which 18-year-old Yuuri is the prince of the country of Yutopia, and in the year leading up to his sister’s coronation as queen, he finds his relationship with Mari deteriorating.

He doesn’t blame her - she’s under a lot of stress, taking on more of her father’s responsibilities, meeting with all the leaders of their country’s allies, finalizing all the plans for the coronation gala.

But when one particular argument goes too far, he decides to run away from home and lay low for a while until the storm passes.

Of course, he can’t stay in his own country, because literally everyone knows the face of their beloved prince.

So he goes to the neighbouring country.

Unfortunately though, his plans of laying low are thrown right out the window when, through a series of misunderstandings, he somehow finds himself the new bodyguard of crown prince Viktor Nikiforov.

By the time Yuuri realizes what’s happened, it’s too late, and he’s too embarrassed to out himself, so he plays along while frantically trying to think of a way to get out of this situation.

Several hijinks ensue as Yuuri repeatedly brings himself under suspicion by knowing too much about manners and etiquette of being in high society, and the foreign relationships and alliances between the monarchs of the different countries.

Of course, it also doesn’t help when his best friend, prince Phichit, whose country is Yutopia’s closest ally, has an audience with Viktor and almost outs Yuuri the moment he sees him at Viktor’s side.

Luckily, Phichit and Yuuri have long since mastered the art of silent communication and the moment Viktor turns away for a second to give orders to a servant to have a feast prepared, Yuuri is able to signal to Phichit that Viktor doesn’t know about him being a prince and that it has to stay that way.

Phichit finds the entire situation hilarious, but he doesn’t say anything. The mischievous smirk he directs at Yuuri does hae Viktor confused though when he turns back to look at Phichit. Phichit’s aides have long since gotten used to their prince’s antics and they decide that if he’s not saying anything about Yuuri being treated like a mere servant rather than the respect he deserves, then they probably shouldn’t mention anything either.

In the end, the jig is up when Mari sends one of her people with an invitation to her coronation for King Yakov and his two sons.

The man immediately recognizes Yuuri and right there, in front of the king and both princes, he breaks down in tears, sobbing to Yuuri that, “Your majesty!! We have been looking for you everywhere!!! Your royal parents have been sick with worry! Please return home at once!”

Everyone turns to stare at Yuuri in shock.

Yuuri just laughs awkwardly and explains that he’s actually the prince of the neighbouring kingdom haha, surprise!

There’s a long silence after that.

And Yuuri is starting to get a little worried that his actions would constitute as an act of war.

In the end, Viktor is the one to break the silence when he pulls Yuuri into his lap in a tight embrace, and turns to laugh at his father.

“Yuuri’s a prince! Take that you stupid old man!” he crows in delight. “Now there’s nothing you can do to stop me from marrying him!!”

Fics based on this au:

A Royal Victory by @a-queer-in-spaceland
In the Rough by @realisticallycynical
The Meeting by @droewyn


There are no actual jazz chickens in Eddie Izzard’s new Believe Me: A Memoir of Love, Death and Jazz Chickens. But there’s plenty of insight into what makes the beloved comedian tick – he credits coming out as transgender in 1985 for giving him the confidence to build his career.

Check out his conversation with NPR’s Kelly McEvers here.

– Petra


Ah! Ah!  You said death! I heard you!