#else I shall bury you alive

[soulofapatrick]

Amortentia - Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: You brew Amortentia and it leads somewhere you didn't ever expect Words: 1.7k Warnings: none really Notes: I am alive I promise, been really busy as we're getting ready to move house

Y/N’s POV

Amortentia. The most powerful love potion in the world. The way many people find their partners in Hogwarts and the most exciting class of the year. Everyone is buzzing around, whispering and giggling with their friends about the vial sat on Professor Slughorn’s desk, left completely unguarded. I take on glance at the shimmering blue liquid and cringe a little before finding the closest seat to the door, throwing my bag on the floor after pulling out the Potions book. 

“Hey Y/N,” Harry slides into the seat beside me with his signature unruly black hair and this bright green eyes that seem to hold a hint of mischief and determination, and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. He wears his Gryffindor uniform somewhat neatly, his tie slightly askew adding to this charm.

Ron isn’t far behind, grumbling about the upcoming lesson. His fiery red hair is as untameable as ever, and his freckled face displaying nothing but annoyance as he throws his arms over mine and Harry’s shoulders and letting his knees buckle while pretending to swoon, “Oh Theodore, my love, it youuuuuu-“ 

“Oh shut up!” I push his arm off my shoulders and he falls with a cry of surprise, Harry trying to catch him but ending up letting Ron fall to snigger behind his hand, “You’re probably going to fall head over heels for Snape… oh Snape, oh how I love thee Sn-“ 

“Alright, let’s begin this lesson shall we?” Professor Slughorn comes breezing in, not as well as Snape as he’s just too happy for that. Ron squeezes my shoulder before he slinks off to sit in one of the only spaces next to Neville who looks like he would rather be anywhere else. 

As the lesson commences, Slughorn goes over the instructions and safety precautions for handling Amortentia. The excitement in the room is palpable as we prepare to brew the potent love potion. The air is filled with a mix of anticipation and trepidation, but I find myself feeling grateful for Harry taking over, using his special edition of the potions book that is full of scribbles and notes presumably making the potion better. The simmering cauldrons and swirling concoctions coming together creates an almost enchanting atmosphere, the scents in the air shifting and blending, giving the room an ethereal quality. 

A figure appears over my shoulder, surprise and curiosity coursing through my veins when I recognise that familiar scent of oranges, honeycomb and something darker like amber which can mean only one thing: Theodore Nott is standing behind me. His calm and composed demeanour a little intimidating as I don’t think I’ve ever seen him actually smile more than a very small lift of the corner of his lips. Oh his lips, so plump and flush and-

“How’s the potion going Mouse? Have you blown up-“ He stops abruptly, leaving forwards over my shoulder and taking a very deep breath, causing me to stumble a little over the response I was trying to formulate. His voice is low and husky, sending shivers down my spine at the nickname he calls me. 

“Um, it’s, uh, it’s coming along.” I manage to stammer rout, feeling my cheeks heat up, “Haven’t blown anything up… yet.” 

Theodore’s lips quirk upward ever so slightly, and I catch a glimpse of what could be a hint of amusement. He leans in a little closer, and I can feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, sending more shivers down my spine, but it’s a delicious kind nervousness, a feeling I can’t quite put into words. Before I can fully process the situation, Theodore buries his nose in the crook of my neck, taking a deep breath. My heart pounds in my chest so loud I’m sure Ron can hear it from across the room, and time seems to slow down. The scents of oranges, honeycomb and amber envelops us, creating an intimate and intoxicating moment. 

I can hardly believe that Theodore, the stoic and straight-faced Slytherin, is here, so close to me, and that he’s showing this level of vulnerability. His actions are unexpected but oh so incredibly thrilling. I dare to steal a glance at his face, and I’m met with a sight I’ve never seen before - a softness in his expression, a hint of something more than his usual guarded demeanour. It’s as if he’s letting down his walls, revealing a side of himself he rarely shows to anyone. 

My heart races, and I find myself yearning for more of this closeness, more of this connection. It’s like a spell has been cast, and I’m under Theodore’s enchantment. The excitement and nervousness intertwine, and I feel a sense of wonder at the unexpected turn of events, how close he is to me. I can feel his breath ghosting over my lips, knowing that I could just lean forwards ever so slightly and close the near non-existence space between us. The smell of oranges, honeycomb and amber suddenly gets so intense I have to grab the edge of the table and Theodore’s forearm. 

“Aha! We did it!” Harry exclaims, breaking the moment and has Theodore pulling back. Theodore’s eyes meet mine, and I see a spark of something familiar and yet different. The air between us crackles with unspoken words, emotions swirling around us like the brewing potions in the classroom.

“Oh god.” I choke out and I think Theodore actually smiles for the first time, the corner of his lips tilting up into more of a smile than he’s ever shown before, “Wh-what do you smell Teddy?”

He leans in once more, his nose brushing against my collarbone and neck. His closeness sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. And then, he presses a soft, gentle kiss to my jaw, sending shockwaves of sensation through me. It’s a sweet, tender touch that leaves me breathless. 

“You.” He whispers, his voice barely audible,  but the impact of his words reverberates within me. The world seems to stand still, and my heart swells with emotion. 

Theodore Tiberius Nott, the guarded and enigmatic Slytherin, had just confessed, in his own subtle way, that he feels something for me. My cheeks flush with a. Mixture of excitement and disbelief. It’s a moment I never thought I’d experience - being so close to Theodore, sharing this intimate connection, and hearing him express his feelings in such a heartfelt manner. In the heart-stopping moment, I can see the turmoil of emotions playing across his face. His eyes meet mine with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. And then, without warning, he mumbles a single phrase that sets my heart racing even faster. 

“Fuck it,” he whispers, and before I can process his intent, his hand cups my jaw, and he draws me up into a kiss. It’s a surprise, but the moment our lips meet, it’s as if everything falls into place. 

The kiss is soft yet intense, filled with all the emotions that words can’t express. It feels like an explosion of passion and longing, an unspoken confession that’s now imprinted on our lips. Theodore’s lips are warm and inviting, and I respond with equal fervour, my heart soaring with joy and disbelief. Time seems to stand still, and the air crackles with the intensity of our shared emotions. It's a kiss that speaks volumes, a revelation of hidden desires and unspoken feelings. All the walls Theodore had erected to guard his heart have crumbled, and in this magical moment, he bares himself to me in the most intimate way. 

Just as the world around us seems to disappear in the enchantment of the moment, reality crashes back in with an unexpected interruption. Ron, being the protective and ever-observant twin brother, appears out of nowhere and is shoving Theodore away from me. 

“Hey! That’s my sister!” Ron’s voice is filled with shock and indignation, “You can’t just go around kissing my sister!” 

“Ron!” I can’t help but practically facepalm at him as he’s… he’s being Ron, “Shove off,” I reach around Ron and manage to get a grip on Theodore’s sleeve enough to pull him back over to me. Ron's protectiveness is well-intentioned, but I can't let it ruin the magical moment that Theodore and I just shared. 

“I’m not… She’s safe with me, I promise.” Theodore's words are reassuring, and I can see the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks. Despite his usual stoic demeanour, there's a tenderness in his touch as he holds my hand, a silent declaration of his feelings for me. 

“I trust him.” I say firmly, giving my brother a pleading look. Ron just looks torn for a moment, clearly struggling between his protective instincts and his trust in me. But then, he takes a deep breath and nods reluctantly. 

“Fine.” His says, his voice gruff but accepting, “But if he hurts you in any way, he’ll have me to deal with.” Ron eyes him warily but eventually takes a step back, giving us some space. ”Just remember, Y/N, he's a Slytherin," Ron says, his protective tone still evident.

"He's more than just his house," I reply, trying to convey the depth of my feelings for Theodore.

Ron studies me for a moment before he finally relents. ”Fine," he says, "But don't say I didn't warn you.”

With that, Ron turns and walks away, leaving Theodore and me standing there, still holding hands. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that Ron didn't push the matter further. 

“Ahhhh young love.” Slughorn’s voice floats across the room , filled with warmth and nostalgia, and I do the only thing I can: bury my face in Theodore’s sweater, feeling a laugh rumble in his chest. 

“Indeed.” Theodore says, his voice laced with amusement as he wraps his arms around me in a gentle embrace. Slughorn giving us an indulgent smile before continuing with the class. The room seeming to take on a different atmosphere now, one that’s tinged with a newfound sweetness and magic. The shimmering cauldrons and swirling potions seem to mirror the emotions swirling within me, and I can’t help but realise how cliche this is. Expressing our feelings for each other during the lesson on amortentia… 

“I’ll wait for you after class.” Theodore murmurs, kissing my forehead then my cheek before untangling himself from my embrace before heading back to his seat next to a predictably sneering Draco Malfoy. 

“What just happened?’ I ask Harry, a little dazed still, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“I’m not actually sure.” 

-----------

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[lokisgoodgirl]

The Prince is Dead [Asgard!Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Shaken by Loki's death on Svartálfheim, you confront the one you blame the most. Odin. (w/c 1.9k) Warnings: Angst. Set between TDW and Ragnarok. Mentions of death. Heartbreak. Violent imagery. Melt to fluff (implied)

The sun still rose in the North and set in the South, the way it always did. Clattering swords rang from the training ground, each echo of distant laughter another stake through your chest. But Asgard's golden turrets would still shine garishly in the morning light. As ever it was, so it shall be.

You wrapped a thin shawl tighter around your arms. The Prince is dead, you thought, biting back a sigh. The majestic façade was dulled behind the drape of your mourning veil, grey and lifeless. Or perhaps, you just finally saw things as they truly were.

Five moons had since risen and ebbed while you had lain half-alive in your chambers. Sleep descended in snatches, an unwelcome friend. And of course, you had dreamt of him.

His shadowed smile glancing back as he led you through winding palace paths. His face turned to the ceiling in the bed you shared, frozen in anguish. Bloodless with deep blue veins wound in spider patterns across lifeless cheeks. Or his kiss fastening to your own, a loving whisper of your name on warm lips as he melted into you. When you would wake, that dream was the worst of all.

The Prince is dead, a guard had told you with no emotion. With no sympathy. You had waited until he had retreated to sink to your knees, body racking with silent, violent sobs. No one had seen you cry, though. Loki would have approved.

You assumed that your place within the palace was forfeit. By tradition, you should have been removed immediately. Perhaps Thor had intervened to allow a period of mourning. If he had, it would be the one decent thing he's ever done. You pondered that thought bitterly for a moment, wishing he'd used that sliver of kindness to bring Loki's body home instead.

But either way, it didn't matter now.

You inhaled shakily while nervous fingers wound through the thick fabric of your skirts. To anyone else, they would look black. But in truth they were the deepest, darkest green. A waft of fragrant spice rolled on the wind across the balustrade from the markets, heating the cool air. Gods, how you missed him.

The anger, you would admit, had taken you by surprise. When your face wasn't buried in Loki's pillow, inhaling his waning scent between shuddering tears - it was anger. Only that.

It was anger that had brought the fine Asgardian sculptures in your rooms to their undignified end. Anger that fuelled the plot which burned and blossomed in your mind while shadows danced the walls. Anger that urged to you don silken armour this morning, to parade yourself as bait.

It was anger that kept your head high while you rode the whispers following you like smoke. Anger, you had found, was more of a comfort than remembering. A locket bearing Loki's initial hid beneath your bodice, blossoms from the tree beneath which he had first kissed you preserved inside. A gift. One of his prize daggers was strapped to your thigh, and with every step to your final destination, the cool blade kissed your skin.

Your fingertips steadied on the balustrade wall as a ceremonial clatter of guards approached. Eyes fixed on the old town, you composed yourself. The breeze made the dark veil flutter. There was a single heavy clang as twenty spears hit the marble floor in unison. A growl of stand back broke the heavy silence. The guards complied.

"Why do you mourn him so?" a voice rasped. "You are finally free."

The King's words were thick as he rustled beside your shoulder. Beneath the veil, your frown deepened. "Even from you Allfather, I would expect more sensitivity." you muttered. Odin drew up to his full height, observing the spread of his kingdom with a sanctimonious smirk. Patience, you thought. The absence of your bow was treasonous, and it would have been noted. He let out a forced laugh, meaty hands clasping behind his back. "I expect you may have thought that you loved him. But you did not know him as I did."

"You're right, I didn't."

It was surprising how easily the words came. Strong and clear and crisp. "I knew his heart."

Odin chuckled. "His heart," he mocked. "That you think he had one betrays your naivety. Go, now. Be free."

Bravery welled in your belly like a swollen river, pushing a prick of tears to your eyes. You felt like you might burst. You were suddenly glad the old fuck couldn't see your face.

Patience.

With a god, time was something that could be counted on. Or, it should be. Time to grow and love and to be free. That was the plan for you and Loki. But now, time stretched before you like an endless, lonley void. A sentence. Odin and his arrogance had seen to that.

"You forget yourself Odin, son of Bor," you said; and for a moment, he looked genuinely shocked. Or is he impressed, you thought fleetingly.

"You lost a son-"

You raised a hand as his cracked lips began to move in predictable denial. "A son." you repeated firmly.

The word hung thick between you. "Asgard lost not just a Prince, it lost a protector. The one that shielded them from this palace and its ruler's whims."

Odin was silent.

"And I lost-"

A lump rose in your throat. Everything.

"I know what you lost, " the King spat. "The chance to be queen by the unsurper's side once he had slain the true heir. The chance to wallow in finery and filth encrusted sheets while that disgraced Jotun defiled you at any time of the day or night. Plotting."

You shook your head. And you couldn't help it. You laughed.

"For all your years, you know nothing. Nothing about truth, or destiny, or love. I see that now-"

"Love," Odin scoffed, cutting in." If you loved him, you were the only one who ever did. "

"I love him still," you murmured, turning towards the rolling mountains. Your fingers played at the hilt of the dagger through the slit in your gown. "Forget him." Odin sniffed, waving a hand. "You will be the better for it, we all will."

His loaded dismissal blew away any lingering doubt.

Loki's face flashed behind your eyelids, a vision of the day he had finally let you in to his solitary world. Golden specks of dust had swirled within a single beam of amber light cutting through the healing room. He had sat perched on a single bed, elbows resting on his knees. Despite the lengthy battle, his skin glowed luminous in the dying song of day. Deep wounds streaked across his stomach and ribs and back, purple bruises marring his skin like the darkest storm-clouds. His leather armour lay in a ragged pile by his feet. Blood crept from its crevices, seeping into the cracks of the stone floor.

You had cried then, too. Only once.

"It will heal," he had said, cupping your cheek with a strained smile. "Do not waste your worry."

"I can't help it," you'd replied, tracing your fingertips over a gash in his side. Loki had winced. As you watched, the skin began to stretch and meld millimetre by millimetre. "You shall have to become more stoic if you are to be my wife one day," Loki smiled. There was a pause, before he frowned. "Does it make you feel better? The worry?"

"Yes," you had answered truthfully. You curled a lock of damp hair behind his ear. Someone has to worry for you, you'd thought. Loki smiled again. "Then I'll allow it," he murmured softly, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. And he did.

A silent tear rolled down your cheek as your fingers crept around the daggers hilt. The peace of the realm would soon be broken. Wails of anguish would rinse the clouds, public displays of grief filling the air with heavy sighs and glowing orbs. It should have been allowed for your love, but it wasn't. Asgard should be in mourning, and soon it would be- you would make sure of that. You only wished you would be there to see it.

"He loved you all, and I'll never know why," you said solemnly, heat flushing your cheeks. "It was never deserved, never appreciated. Especially not by you." The final word darted like venom between your teeth.

Odin laughed. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"I never did understand him," he crooned, not deigning to look at you. The dagger slid from it's hold against your thigh. "You never tried." you whispered.

In the briefest of moments, you whipped the dagger with trained precision. The thin blade rested beneath the god's chin, digging into soft, fat flesh. From behind, the guards would see nothing.

"Ah," the Allfather hummed, tilting his head back ever so slightly. His stance never changed. "I commend your audacity my dear. Truly. But you see, I am not the monster that you think I am."

Something in his tone made you pause. You had been fully prepared to sink Loki's dagger into his throat without mercy. Ready to hear the wet gurgle of breath fighting blood. Escaping retribution from this was not an option, but you didn't want it. You wanted to see the look on Odin's face as the lights went out. You wanted to see his one staring eye glaze to the heavens as life left him. For him to know with his dying rattle that someone cared enough for Loki of Asgard to avenge him, no matter the cost.

"You are a monster," you panted through gritted teeth. An unnerving smile began to crawl across Odin's lips. "True," he said coyly. "But not the one you think I am."

Your eye twitched, taking in the opaque blue of his stare that suddenly sparkled with more life than you had seen in years. Your stomach churned, the hand holding the blade beginning to tremble.

"With my dagger too, how poetic," Odin whispered with a smirk.

You gasped, jumping back as the blade tumbled towards the ground. It disappeared in a flash of seidr before hitting the marble.

It can't be-

"Guards!" the Allfather thundered, straightening as they resumed their posts. "Show the Lady to my private chambers. There are matters regarding Prince Loki's memorial we must urgently discuss."

You saw the guards throw confused glances to one another as you stood slack-jawed beneath the veil. Odin raised your hand, placing a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

"It will heal," he murmured against your skin, before letting the hand fall limply to your side. The King leant closer, the ghost of his breath sending shivers down your spine. "Do not waste your worry."

The familiar words ricochet between your ears, heart thumping as you followed the jostling procession across the balustrade. It was all you could do not to faint. The implications, if your mind did not play tricks, were too vast.

So you decided to focus on the gait of the King as you placed one foot in front of the other. On the swagger that had not been there when you last spoke weeks before. As if the weight of another’s passion still hung between his thighs. He would not part with that. You smiled, feeling it grow as you watched the unmistakable way his shoulders swayed back and forth with each long stride. The undeniable spring in his step. Singularly focused, like another you had known. It held a promise. A hope.

It was a ten minute walk to the King's chambers.

So you focused on the sway of his shoulders. On the mischievous spring in his step. Only that.

A/N - I wrote this on the back of a bus in Morocco and haven't messed with it much - i do like the concept though, hope you do too! Thanks to @lokischambermaid for her enthusiasm when I first mentioned it a while back :) Love you! x If you want to see what 'after' might look like - check out Praise Him (smut) which is also based on this concept :) It's one of my earlier fics though and it shows 😂

Tags @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @infinitystoner @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @psychospore @littlespaceyelf

#loki x reader #loki marvel #loki laufeyson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki angst #loki odinson #loki fanfiction #loki x reader angst #loki angst and fluff #loki fanfic #loki gif #loki oneshot #loki odinson x reader #LGG writes #loki dark world #loki imagine

[annaofaza]

This reminds me of this scene from TriStamp, where Legato's telling Wolfwood that in order to become the perfect tool for Knives and the Eye of Michael:

Wolfwood doesn't need love and connections; those need to die to be the best soldier. Chapel's espoused it, too. It's a fairly common theme for others (mostly elders but that's another meta) to call heroes to not be tethered to earthly attachments. (We see it in Avatar, for instance, and Star Wars... And look how well that ended up for the Jedi and Anakin.)

Evangelicals especially believe that perfect faith means living to go to heaven. To be a true believer means to commit yourself wholly to worship. You're not an individual. I think of Jane Grey's last letter to her sister, Katherine, before she was beheaded after refusing Queen Mary's offer to convert to Catholicism to save her life:

"[This Bible that she sent Katherine] will teach you to live and learn you to die ... Now as touching on my death, rejoice as I do, my dearest sister, that I shall for losing of a mortal life, win one that is immortal, joyful, and everlasting..."

Legato believes himself the perfect soldier for Knives, to whom he's devoted his life. And we all know how pretty obsessed and rabid he is to the mission. (You didn't need to invent the killing game, buddy.)

But emotions and connections are what makes us human! Legato and Chapel's philosophies are what Vash rejects! That's what his friends, both alive and deceased, have come to believe, who are arguably richer for having those things in their lives.

And Legato himself isn't immune to petty, earthly desires:

See also: Legato sobbing as he sees nearly-dead Knives post-July:

What does Legato get for his tears, his (pretty much) life-long devotion? Disgust, Knives telling him that it's "annoying," and to basically shut up. SPOILER: And ultimately, his own death.

What does Wolfwood get?

Still death—but genuine peace, knowing he's loved by his old home and his friend. Who buries him, who mourns him, who (figuratively—in '98, this is quite literal) carries him as a talisman to the end. I'd argue that Wolfwood is more fulfilled by his relationship with one of two so-called angels—in all his doubt, fear, anger, and cutting arguments.

And afterwards? SPOILER: Knives doesn't get a mourning panel for Legato or even a simple complaint of "you killed my best servant." Wolfwood is beloved. Wolfwood is remembered by Vash, by Livio, by the people of No Man's Land (so says "Les Enfants"). Wolfwood is the one who's immortal.

I mean, at the end of the day, you can argue: Who cares? Both of them are dead. That's fair enough. But I think Nightow is conveying much, much more than that.

Side note: In terms of full individual sacrifice, the Bible says different things. (What else is new?) Via Jesus: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.” and also “Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’” So fuck if I know.

#the millionsummers and vashwood parallels drive me MAD #trigunbookclub #trigun bookclub #trigun maximum #trigun stampede #my post #vashwood #millionsummers #trigun spoilers

[ragingbookdragon]

The Strange Case Of Dr. Jekyll & Mz. Hyde

Task Force 141 x Reader

Word Count: 740 Warnings: Explicit Language, Archaic Medical Tools (and explanation of lobotomy)

Author's Note: Everyone wanted a part two to this so here you go :) Enjoy! Thorne

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

She smiles when the Lieutenant walks into the clinic, no doubt a scowl on his face beneath the mask, but he says nothing as he stands before her desk. Her eyes crinkle at the edges as she says, “Thank you for coming in, Lieutenant Riley.” She looks to the nurse beyond, watching with interest. “Simone, be a dear and lock the door on your way out, yes?”

The woman nods her head and practically skitters out and she rises from her seat, grabbing a rather large black bag; the thing looks like it’s from the sixteen hundreds. “Sit on the exam table, please.”

He does as she asks and takes a seat, watching the wall as she lifts his shirt and examines the bullet wound beneath the gauze.

“Lieutenant, do you recall my one rule I left you with before your mission?” she pauses and looks him directly in the eye.

“Don’t get injured.”

“Correct!” she smiles. “And if you were, what was the next rule?”

“Apply first aid.”

She tuts and pokes the stitched wound, delighting in his hiss of displeasure. “You seemed to have forgotten my second rule. Never mind that, I shall remind you.”

Her hands drift to the bag and she unlatches and opens it, and the man nearly shits his pants at the archaic surgical tools.

“Did you know that my legally given maiden name is Jekyll? Dr. Jekyll asks. “Some think there’s an ancestor of mine that was actually the basis of the novel with the same name.”

She picks up a tool, a drill and turns it.

“I do so love old medical tools. This one was used to drill into skulls. Mostly to relieve headaches or remove stagnant blood from brains. Sometimes even to treat hemorrhages.” She smiles fondly. “It takes a rather tremendous amount of strength to crank this into someone’s skull. I can only imagine what it was like without anesthesia.”

Putting it down, she picks up a mallet and what looks like an icepick.

“Now these are my favorite.” She holds the mallet in one hand, the pick in the other. “These were used to lobotomize people. One would insert the pick behind the eye socket and break through the little barrier of bone by hitting it with the hammer until it was lodged into the frontal lobes.” She does the motion near the side of his head, his eyes on hers as the pick sinks past his ear. “Then you would jiggle it back and forth until the frontal lobes separated from the thalamus! Thus rendering the patient completely catatonic!”

She puts them down and sighs wistfully.

“Did you know I once worked at a mental asylum where lobotomy was still legalized? I was allowed to sit in on several during my stay in medical school. An archaic but rather interesting process.” her smile is anything but sweet, instead it sends shivers up his spine. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to administer one myself. Perhaps one day I’ll get such an opportunity? Maybe on someone who disobeys my rules?”

He swallows hard, a man whose entire family murdered, himself buried alive, seen death a million times, and even delivered it, scared shitless of the woman before him.

He understands now why they call her Misses Hyde when she’s angry, no, infuriated and seething.

“Lieutenant? Are you alright?” she repeats, and he shakes himself, abruptly standing before her.

“I, uh, have to go, Doctor,” he says, and runs for the door like his head is on fire and his ass is catching.

“But I didn’t even show you the electro-shock therapy tools I have!”

“No need!” he shouts, unlocking the door and swinging it open. “I won’t disobey rules again!”

He’s out of the door before she can say anything else and the nurse returns moments later with two cups of coffee.

“Did Lieutenant Riley leave, Doctor Jekyll?” she asks.

“He did,” she pouts and latches the bag back, setting it down behind her desk. “And I have a feeling he won’t be back for some time. I was simply telling him stories. They weren’t even true.”

“Such a shame,” the nurse replies. “He’s awfully handsome.”

“If you like masked men.”

“As if you don’t like the Phantom of the Opera,” the nurse grins, handing her a cup. “You know he’s handsome.”

“Perhaps, he is,” she says back, sipping her coffee with a maniacal grin.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader imagines #simon ghost riley x reader imagine #simon ghost riley imagines #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader imagines #simon riley x reader imagine #simon riley imagines #simon riley imagine #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x reader imagines #ghost x reader imagine #ghost imagines #ghost imagine #ghost #task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #task force 141 #141 #cod imagines #cod imagine #cod #mw2 imagines #mw2 imagine #mw2

[gendrie]

"Lord Stark asked for his sisters and his father's sword as well," Ser Cleos reminded him. "As you say. And his sisters?" Tyrion glanced toward Sansa, and felt a stab of pity as he said, "Until such time as he frees my brother Jaime, unharmed, they shall remain here as hostages. How well they are treated depends on him." And if the gods are good, Bywater will find Arya alive, before Robb learns she's gone missing. (Tyrion, ACOK)

on my last reread this really stuck out to me. at the end of agot sansa "forgets" to ask what happened to arya. when she hears the crown demand arya present herself (or else) sansa just assumes that her little sister got out of the city and returned safe to winterfell. an assumption which carries over to the beginning of clash. this is classic sansa. i don't think she wants to consider that arya is dead. for obvious reasons, but also bc sansa herself would share the blame on account of the fact she told cersei about ned's plans and, more to the point, arya's location that morning. which is why meryn and co. knew where to find arya in order to arrest her (and failed only bc of syrio's sacrifice)

but then sansa is in the throne room when cleos asks about arya being returned to robb which means the starks dont have her. tyrion responds that the lannisters arent giving either girl back. he clearly implies they have arya. its a lie, but sansa's theory about arya's safe return is falling apart

Meekly, Sansa dropped her eyes and retreated back inside. She realized suddenly why this place seemed so familiar. They've put me in Arya's old bedchamber, from when Father was the Hand of the King. All her things are gone and the furnishings have been moved around, but it's the same . . . (Sansa, ACOK)

later, sansa is brought to the tower of the hand where tyrion now resides. they place her in arya's former bedroom but she is not there nor are her things. sansa's thoughts trail off as she looks around. she doesn't think about it anymore. i don't think sansa likes where this is going so she doesnt investigate further by inquiring to tyrion about her sisters whereabouts. she could, but she doesnt. its peak avoidance.

"Joffrey will show you no such devotion, I fear. You could thank your sister for that, if she weren't dead. He's never been able to forget that day on the Trident when you saw her shame him, so he shames you in turn. You're stronger than you seem, though. I expect you'll survive a bit of humiliation. I did. You may never love the king, but you'll love his children." (Sansa, ACOK)

its cersei who confidently and casually informs sansa that arya is dead. the logical conclusion here would be that the lannisters captured arya (as they were actively trying to do) and killed her.

again, sansa has no reaction to this revelation. i don't actually think this is apathy or even that sansa cant react bc shes a hostage - or at least not entirely in the case of the latter. for comparison: arya finds out bran and rickon were murdered when serving roose and she cant react either, but we get her grief internally. for sansa its the guilt imo. deep down sansa realizes that she betrayed arya and, apparently, got her little sister killed. that is a very heavy thing to bear. sansa very rarely likes to assume guilt for her actions so it gets buried.

#asoiaf nonsense #i do wish grrm had taken this just a lil further #bc it adds a whole other dimension to sansa and tyrions marriage #if she believes that he harmed her sister #but she never thinks anything about it #which i know is like. the thing of sansa's pov lol #and the ambiguity can be interesting #but it does also get frustrating at times #esp in fandom spaces bc her willful ignorance is often taken at face value

[arvandus]

Daily Drabble #2 - Gojo x F!Reader

Warnings: F!Reader, light fingering, Gojo being a menace as usual, sort of hate sex vibes (but no sex in this one folks, it's just a drabble. Sorry!)

Gojo stared down at you despite his blindfold, his lips curled into a smirk.

"You mad at me?" he cooed.

"Gee, what gave you that fucking idea?" you seethed.

Gojo inched closer to you, leaning into your personal space. You backed up instinctually, your back hitting hard against the wall.

"What are you doing??" you demanded.

Gojo pushed up his blindfold and gently tilted your chin up with a crook of his finger. "Hmm... checkin' somethin'."

Your eyes narrowed, but your pulse fluttered. It always did when he touched you, and he liked to touch you often. He knew what it did to you, he enjoyed the way it pulled at all of your loose strings, unraveling you.

You batted his hand away.

"Don't you start that," you warned. "Don't think you can get out of this."

Gojo laughed, light and airy as your anger bounced off of the protective shield of his arrogance. "Get out of it? What makes you think I want that?" he leaned closer to you until his nose brushed at your forehead, his voice dropping. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

His long arms framed you against the wall, caging you, and already you could feel the heat in your veins, your body coming alive for him. You didn't want it to, the anger still simmering in your veins, but it was as if you were pavloved to him now.

You tried to push at his chest, but he didn't budge. "You're seriously sick, you know that?"

Gojo's grin only widened.

"Satoru, I'm serious. I'm too fucking pissed for this."

"Hmm..." he hummed as his lips brushed from your forehead to your temple. "y'know what I think? I think you're lyin'."

You choked out a scoffed sound, your hands pressing against him again. Again, he didn't budge. "You're delusional, Satoru."

"Am I?" he chuckled.

Gojo bullied his leg between yours, spreading your knees apart, and despite your better judgment, you didn't fight it.

"Let's ask her, shall we?" he breathed.

Your heart froze in your chest, your eyes widened. Your hands automatically stopped pushing and slid to grip Gojo's expensive cotton shirt at his sides in anticipation. Instantly, you realized the action already betrayed you.

With his lips at your temple and his nose in your hair, Gojo slid his hand beneath the hemline of your pants. He pulled away just enough to watch his hand vanish beneath your clothes. His long fingers found you, stroking against the wet cotton of your panties.

"Hm, what do you think?" he muttered. "Is she mad at me?"

You realized he wasn't talking to you. He was talking to your pussy, his sky blue orbs hidden beneath his white lashes as he looked down at where his hand was buried.

His long, skilled fingers slipped past the barrier of your panties.

He tsked and tutted as he soaked his fingers into your wet heat, drawing slow circles within your folds and teasing at your entrance. Your breath hitched in your throat, your hands shifting to grip needily at his strong shoulders.

Gojo's eyes flicked back up to you. He was so close you could feel his warm breath on your lips, could feel his nose brush yours. You were trapped, locked in the sky blue of his eyes, and in that moment, every part of you was exposed to him. Every desire, every need, every ache. Your began to pant, your breaths feeling heavier, weighed down by the gravity of his proximity, rooted to him by his touch.

"She says you're a liar," he said, his tone low and dripping. "And you know what happens to liars..."

You tried to keep your defiance, but your voice came out in a squeak. "What?"

Gojo grinned against your lips. "They get punished."

#arv's daily drabbles #gojo x reader #gojo x f!reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo smut

[2af-afterdark]

Lord of the Mountain

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Content: Malleus x afab!Yuu|Player (you/your), fantasy au, oral sex (Yuu recieving), Malleus is a dragon-man and we monster fuckers shall feed, yuu is shy, first times, yuu is a virgin, double dicks for our dragon✌️ A/N: Planned for this to be longer, but the spot I hit was cute sooo... Also, you know, real life is kicking me in the teeth right now Word Count: 912

Malleus – the fabled terrible lord of the mountain whose moods controlled the very weather and earth around him; whose happiness made crops grow plentiful and healthy and whose anger split the sky with lightning and thunder – held your knees apart to admire the space between your legs that you'd been trying to hide by closing them. His emerald eyes bore into you, a thousand questions dancing at the tip of his tongue but not one being asked as he concerned himself more with studying every inch of your beauty; the shape of your hips, the build of your frame, the swell of your breasts hidden behind the cup of your hands, the shyness on your face as you looked away from him, he etched all of you into his eyes and committed it to his very long-lived memory.

He intended for more senses than simply his sight to admire you. He buried his head between your legs, pressing his lips against your lower ones. His long, black tongue dragged through your wet folds, then effortlessly doubled back to get another taste of your chastity. 

He savored the flavor of your arousal, demonstrating the restraint of a saint so as to not ravish you entirely despite his desires. You were, at the end of the day, only human and he had to use a delicate hand when handling you or else you may just break beneath his claws. 

But when he glanced upward, you were not looking at him. Your eyes were turned away, while your lip was practically red from how fiercely you had been biting it to muffle your own voice. You were the perfect visage of nervousness and anxiety, but he intended to chase that expression away.

His hands slid beneath your buttocks, lifting your hips enough to lift them into the air and press firmly against his mouth so he could slip his tongue inside of you. The small, surprised gasp you made as he licked the sides of your inner walls threatened to test his patience. After all, you were a feast. So much so that he had to forcefully pull himself away before he devoured you whole.

Malleus pulled away from your dripping hole. “That should be enough to allow your body to accept me.”

“My lord,” you said with warm cheeks as you stared away from your own nudity, trying to ignore how your lower half burned and throbbed with want after what he had done, “I don't think there is a human alive who could welcome all of you.”

He didn't have a frame of reference to compare himself to a human male, but surely he wasn't that much larger. Not enough to be of concern at the very least.

He repositioned himself between your legs, sitting up so he could rest his hardness – both of them – against your mound. The hand holding your left leg open was replaced by a tail curling around your thigh so Malleus could press a spot on your lower stomach.

“They will only reach to here.”

Only.

As if the place he was touching wasn't a hair's breadth from your belly button. As if you were supposed to find it comforting as he brushed his fingers over that spot. As if you weren’t lying under a man – well, a dragon technically speaking – for the first time.

“My lord, that's still quite the feat.”

“Is it? It seems normal for a female dragon to take this much. Are humans different?”

“I wouldn't know, my lord.”

The corners of his mouth pulled slightly downward. “We've spoken about using titles and you’ve already uttered mine three times.”

You felt your face grow warm in shame and embarrassment as he pointed out your behavior. “I'm sorry. I'm not used to referring to you by name yet.”

“Even now?” He asked.

“Even now,” you confirmed.

“Shall we delay the ceremony until you're more comfortable?” He continued to ask, but the way his erections twitched against your entrance in anticipation told you that he was eager to proceed.

“No, my lord.” As nervous as a part of you was, you wanted the same thing deep down. “I'm ready and willing. Please allow me to officially be your bride.”

Bride was the term given to those residents – male or female, man or woman, old or young, rich or poor – of your village and many others nearby that were sent as a sacrifice to the lord of the mountain. When the fields were barren and the water ran dry, they were expected to throw themselves at the lord's mercy and convince him to grant prosperity to their families and neighbors. But you would be different than all his previous brides, because you would be the first one to truly be his mate – or, that was the term he used, at least, but it sounded so animalistic that you still chose to use the phrase you were more accustomed to.

As soon as he had your permission, you could feel something fat pressed against your entrance, already pushing its way inside.

An unease rose up in your stomach for what you knew would happen next. “M- my lord?”

“It's only one and I shall be gentle,” he promised as he leaned over you. He laid his palm against yours to lace his fingers with yours. “Tell me if you would like to stop.”

“I don't plan to,” you replied as you curled your fingers around his. “Please continue.”

#2af writes #twst smut #malleus smut #afab fic #cw oral sex #cw first times #cw monsterfucking

[candyredmusings]

Pathologic Sentence Starters.

Taken from both Pathologic Classic HD and Pathologic 2. Feel free to edit as you see fit.

So, it's all about trickery to you?

No, no... I detest trickery. But if we ourselves are to suffer deception, our hands are no longer tied.

What a silly place...

Those who favor hard logic and direct action are bound to be misguided

Only a miracle can set us free without us having to destroy something. And I can DO miracles. Just let me.

Will you please be quiet?

You're a liar and a thief.

Who is going to believe you when you keep lying to yourself?

Whatever happens, I WILL find answers, and justice will be restored.

Don't you go all bossy on me clever clogs.

This calls for the gentle hand of a surgeon.

Your gentle hands are used to killing, not giving life. You will inevitably do harm.

As for brainy, he has no regard for casualties at all.

Neither of you knows compassion.

Yes, it seems unlikely that we'll get along well.

Any choice is right as long as it's willed.

It's not even a trap... it's a grave.

I can see that. You're full of hate.

You mean you won't become a killer? But you will! Mark my word, that's exactly what will happen.

We fear everything, old boy, as mortals do, and desire everything as if we were immortal.

There is an eternal order that Fate itself has predetermined. It is due to this order that things happen the way they should, following a preordained path.

We promise according to our hopes. We perform according to our fears.

You are broken [NAME], I on the other hand am used to winning!

Sorry, I thought you brought in a baby.

You think I brought a baby? // You think I brought in a baby? // You think I brought in a baby?

Guess I'll go have a talk with [NAME]...about the Hippocratic Oath, if nothing else.

No, you can't. You were rude to me.

Give me your herbs, worm.

The real game is happening between you and me.

No, the little girl is not so simple.

You are a slave of the inevitable, while I am its mistress.

Just tell me. Could you have saved my brother?

Pain is our great ally. It reminds us we’re still alive. It drives us to action.

You may mean well, but you bring evil and destruction all the same.

Wow... that's startling! What's wrong with you?

Why do you hate me so much?

You smell of blood.

Well, I think you aren’t doomed.

Dreams are fine, but we need bread.

However, when I look at you, I get the feeling that nature is playing jokes on us.

Don't teach me to dance, pal. Been a clown all my life.

Perhaps this is my way of saving you, giving you diamonds for the price of sugar. Or I'm trying to swindle you. Or it's just a prank. Who knows? Not you.

Where shall you go now, [NAME]? Who will you look in the face?

There are fine things, old boy, that are more brilliant when unfinished, than finished too much.

She despises you, and hates everyone else.

I've loved from the moment I laid eyes on you.

All the world's a stage... sometimes a gallows stage.

People fear bloodshed only when it's their blood... and their shed.

That scum had neither heart or brains, so he has no need for his guts, either.

Cut it with the strong language immediately! 

You little prick!

What a contradictory character you are.

I wouldn't have waited for a trial and a verdict to fire a bullet at your tender heart.

I believe we're surrounded by amazing creatures -- some of them are of such magnifience that we aren't even fully aware of their presence.

True... I'm deeply miserable in general - if you're at all interested to know.

Life is a night at the bar. All the wisdom you gain, you pay for in pain.

But could I please offer you a piece of advice?

I NEED NO ADVICE!

I fear you've fallen under the [NAME]’s influence—the prickly prick that'll bury us all!

There's no way in hell I'm going to help him…or his minions.

Are my ears playing tricks on me? [NAME] is stuck?

Are my ears playing tricks on me?

This smartass won't bother with the losses at all

You both lack mercy.

For the first time, I'll have to think for myself.

I don't know if I'm good or evil. Stupid words, anyway...

I don't know if I'm good or evil. Stupid words, anyway... But I'm trying to be gentle to others and hard on myself. I know how to sympathize and not judge. I try to love whoever I touch. That's the only answer I have.

Yes, my love, you are the bravest. Now go and play. I have a lot on my plate right now.

I'm very scared of this [NAME]… I feel that they’re  a demon, a spirit of destruction and downfall!

I don't kill people. I save their lives.

I'm way more dangerous than the murderer.

People are foolish and weak. One day you're beaten to a pulp and laughed at, the next you're worshipped.

Sorry, I can't help feasting my eyes on your outfit… who was the mad tailor?

No lover's as sweet as the silence of sleep.

It's me, the player.

Tell me what your intentions are, and I'll help you.

Are you trying to borrow money from me or something?

I just wanted to make it so that people would live longer, really. And, preferably, on their own accord.

Stay where you are, demon! I don't know if I'll be able to kill you today—but you will lose a lot of blood. You are mortal too, I know it… however hard to kill you may prove!

Do you realize now that you have lost? And there's nothing to be done. It's too late.

You need more sleep, friend.

What's there about you to like? Nothing.

Do not despair, [NAME]. Do not regret a thing.

…I can't believe my ears. Someone has admitted that I am right.

I do my best to avoid morons.

You're looking for salvation in the wrong place.

God… what an idiot I was!

Let justice prevail. Mercy to the innocent; a reckoning to the guilty.

Did you kill someone with a pencil?

She speaks to the dead.

Sometimes you can find her sitting by a grave and humming a lullaby.

Sometimes girls are capable of the things that even someone as bloodthirsty as me couldn't have invented.

Will I have time to curse you before I die?

Are you trying to bewitch me?

Would you like to see me try that too—the way I do it with creatures like your little self?

He who trusts everybody asks to be deceived.

Ever considered having your tongue removed?

I don’t believe you.

I don’t like you. Actually, that’s too mild a statement. I feel an innate resentment toward you.

Your lips crack. Come, take my kiss.

God loves me.

I am the way to Heaven.

 It aches to be born.

 I am not your foe. love you. Do not push me away.

#txt #rp memes #rp meme #rp prompts #sentence starters #roleplay memes #roleplay prompts #inbox memes #inbox prompts #source: pathologic

[smilingformoney]

The Nightmare

Snape x OC | Angst/Comfort

Severus wakes from a terrible dream.

Read on Ao3 or under the cut:

Severus woke in a panic, sweat dripping from his brow as he cried out for his wife. He reached out across the bed for her but - she was gone.

He bolted upright, looking around desperately. It couldn’t have been real, could it? Had she truly been taken?

“Sephy!” he called out. “Sephy, where are you? Sephy…”

He brought his knees to his chest, his breathing quick and shallow. She was gone, he had taken her, and their babies too…

Severus almost jumped out of his skin when he felt the mattress move as someone weighed it down. He looked up, and sobbed with relief when he saw Persephone sitting on the side of the bed, concern etched into her beautiful face.

“Oh, Sephy, there you are!” Severus gasped in relief as he threw his arms around her and pulled her body against his. “I thought - are you alright?” His hand flew to her stomach. “Are they okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Sev,” Persephone said softly, albeit with some confusion. “Just a bit of morning sickness, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong.”

Severus buried his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her lavender scent and listening to the throb of her pulse reminding him she was alive.

Persephone cradled him in her arms, holding him protectively. “Did you have a bad dream?” she asked.

Severus nodded, not looking up.

“Oh, Sev, come here. Lie down with me.”

Persephone climbed into her side of the bed and allowed Severus to cling to her, his head resting on her breast, one hand carefully cradling her stomach.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked as she gently stroked his hair.

“It was so vivid,” Severus said hoarsely. “So real… he was back. He took you. I tried to find you but I was too late. He… he killed them. Our babies, he killed them.” He sobbed against her chest, tears staining her nightgown. “Then he… he killed you. I screamed and - and then I woke up, and you weren’t here. I was so frightened, Sephy. What if he does come back? What if there was something we don’t know about -“

“Shh, shh, don’t talk like that,” Persephone said soothingly. She gently took his left arm, the one that was laying over her belly protectively, and carefully turned it over to show him the bare skin. “See? Gone. It died with him.” She took his hand and softly laid it on her skin near where she had felt Ariadne squirming against her organs some minutes earlier. “We are alive, and our love is so strong that we made two of them. Can you feel them?”

Severus closed his eyes and focused. Underneath his hand, ever so gently, he could feel something moving. Then, to his surprise, he felt a kick, right on his hand.

“Does she know I’m here?” he gasped.

Persephone giggled as Ariadne kicked again. “She’s excited to meet her daddy.”

Severus moved down the bed to gently kiss her belly. “Hello, my darlings,” he whispered against her skin. Persephone felt Ariadne stop moving, as if she was listening to his voice.

“Oh, I think we found the secret to calming them down,” Persephone chuckled. “Say something else.”

Severus smirked, pressed his lips against her skin, and murmured, “I love you so much, my precious babies. I am counting down the days until we meet. I know that you are both going to be so brilliant, so brave, just like your mother and your sister. I will spend every day of my life working to give you everything you need. I love you both so, so much.”

“They like that,” Persephone smiled. “They like your voice. They’re calming down already.”

“Then I shall speak to them every day,” Severus promised. “And they will know they are loved from the moment they are born.”

He placed another gentle, loving kiss to her belly, then glanced up when he heard a sniff.

“Are you alright, my love?” Severus asked with concern as he realised she was crying. He moved back up the bed again to kiss away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.

“Happy tears,” Persephone promised. “I’m just… overwhelmed by how much love you have for us. And how much love I have for you.”

“I never thought I could love a single person until I fell in love with you,” Severus said. “And now I love four. Four beautiful, perfect, incredible girls.”

“I bet they’re going to look like you, like Abbie does.”

“Certainly not. I must have given Abbie all my genes, I have none left to give. They’re going to be the spitting image of you, I’m sure of it. Will they be identical, do you think?”

“I’m not sure,” Persephone mused. “What if we end up with one of each? One you and one me.”

“There’s already a second me next door, we don’t need a third. One was more than enough; Abbie is only tolerable as she’s a better me than I ever was.”

Persephone laughed. “Tolerable?! Severus, you worship the ground that girl walks on.”

“Maybe so, but don’t tell her that, I’ll never live it down.”

“Oh, I don’t need to, she’s well aware. Now come on, let’s get back to sleep. Do you need a potion?”

Severus hesitated. He wanted to say he didn’t need it with her there, but he was still a little shaken up. Sensing his hesitation, Persephone took her wand from her bedside table and summoned a Dreamless Sleep Potion from the cabinet.

“Thank you,” Severus murmured before taking a generous gulp from the vial. As he did so, Persephone settled onto her side, her belly supported by a pillow.

“I miss snuggling into your chest,” she sighed as Severus wrapped his arms around her, gently cradling her belly protectively. “The first night after they’re born, I’m giving you a proper cuddle again.”

Severus chuckled against the back of her neck and laid a gentle kiss to her shoulder. “Thank you, my love,” he said softly.

“For what?” Persephone asked, although her eyes were already closed for sleep.

“For soothing my nerves so easily,” Severus replied. “For loving me so well, and for so long. For staying by my side, and for marrying me despite all my shortcomings. For giving me three beautiful daughters. For… well, for you. I love you so very much.”

Persephone smiled. “I love you too,” she mumbled sleepily. “Now get some rest, Severus.”

He placed one more kiss on her shoulder, then settled down to sleep, resting easy now knowing that his wife and unborn children were safe in his arms.

#Severus snape #pro snape #snape x oc #Snape fanfic #Snape angst #Snape comfort #soul of ice #Snephy

[kusuguricafe]

Denki Makes a Splash!

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope you're having a fun summer ⛱️☀️

Summary: Denki’s pitfall prank goes awry—will the UA girls be able to turn the tides?

Characters: lee!Kaminari, lers Momo, Jirou, and Mina (Sero cameo)

“You guuyyys,” Mina whined, “I forgot my towel!

Class 1A had taken a well earned trip to the beach to relax and have some summer fun. Most of the students were busy putting on sunscreen or setting up their beach towels and umbrellas.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Momo started, “I can just make one for yo—”

“WAIT! Look over there! Is that mine? It looks just like it!”

Sure enough, a hot pink and black zebra striped towel lay upon the sandy beach before Mina and Momo. The two walked over to inspect it.

“Yep, that’s definitely mine. I accidentally burnt a couple small holes into it right here, see?” Mina gestured towards the edge of her towel.

Momo nodded. “I wonder how it got here.”

“You know, this is actually a pretty nice spot.”

“Shall we set up here?”

“Hey! Wait for me, you two!” Jirou called out.

“Jirooouuu! We’re gonna set up heaaAAAAHH!!” Mina plopped down onto her towel and, to her surprise, plummeted a few feet before hitting the bottom of a sandy pitfall.

“Oh my! Mina! Are you alright?” Momo exclaimed.

“Mina!?” Jirou cried.

“I-I’m fine! Just uh, a little stuck!”

“Hold on one second,” Momo said as she began to create a rope ladder. “Jirou! Be a doll and come help me hold this for her, will you?”

“Coming!”

“Ha! I can’t believe she actually fell for it!” Denki snickered from behind a nearby rock.

“She really fell for it, huh?” Sero quipped.

Jirou’s earphone jacks perked up at that all-too-familiar squeaky laughter. “KAMINARI!!” she roared, facing his direction.

“Crap—quick, let’s go!”

Denki and Sero bolted in different directions.

“Once we pull her out of here, you’re dead!” Jirou shouted, “DEAD! You hear me!?

Momo and Jirou managed to hold the rope ladder steady enough for Mina to successfully climb up out of the pit, towel and all.

“Thank you guys!! Jirou, did you see Denki?”

“No, but I heard the little punk. He would have had access to your room at some point before we all left, right? I bet he’s the one behind this.”

“You’re probably right,” Momo sighed, “He’s always pulling stunts like this.”

“I say we take revenge,” Jirou declared. “Who’s with me?”

“I am.” Momo raised her hand.

“Aye, aye, captain!” Mina saluted.

“Let’s make sure that loser gets a taste of his own medicine!”

And so the hunt began. The three girls headed in the direction where Jirou had heard him. After several minutes of searching and asking around, they still had yet to find him. Until…

“Do you guys see that yellow thing in the water?” Momo asked.

Mina and Jirou looked over towards the ocean.

“I think I can see his signature black lightning bolt! C’mon!” Mina urged.

The trio started running towards the sea. Kaminari’s familiar outline became clearer the closer they got.

“There you are!” Jirou yelled.

Already in their bathing suits, the girls ran into the water after him.

“Ah! Stay back!! Or I, I…! I’ll sneeze!”

“You can’t do that, you idiot! You’ll shock everyone else along with us!” Jirou exclaimed.

“Oh, r-right… WHA! W-wait! Jirou! You can’t just drag me out of here!”

“Help me out, Momo, Mina!”

“On it!” Mina said, grabbing Denki’s other arm.

Momo quickly made a lasso and tossed it his way.

“Oh, come on!” Denki cried, “There’s no way you just lassoed me!!”

The three girls managed to pull the poor boy back to shore.

“We’ve got you now!” Jirou said.

“What are you gonna do with me?” Denki asked nervously.

“Let’s toss him into the hole!” Mina said.

“Good idea!” Momo agreed.

“Better yet, let’s bury him in it!” Jirou suggested.

“Bury me??”

The girls looked at each other and nodded in agreement. They hauled him over to the hole he had dug. Momo tied his wrists together with the lasso. They (gently) threw him in and started filling the sand in around him.

“You guys can’t just bury me alive!!!”

“We’re not going to bury your head,” Momo reassured.

“Or your feet!” Mina added.

Denki looked up at them, confused. Unable to free himself from his binds, he succumbed to his fate.

There Kaminari lay, face up, almost entirely buried in sand.

“Now for your real punishment,” Mina smirked.

“This wasn’t my punishment!?”

Momo and Jirou looked at Mina in confusion as well. She walked over to Denki’s bare feet, knelt down, and skittered her nails all over his exposed soles.

“This is your punishment!”

“AAAIIIEEEE NONONONONOHOHOHO! Minaa nOHOHOhoho!!” Denki protested.

Momo giggled. Jirou kneeled down near his head.

“Good thinking, Mina! How you like this, huh?” Jirou teased, tickling Denki’s neck and ears.

“I dohohohon’t! Nohohohohoho!!”

“You don’t know?” Momo chimed in. “Maybe this will help?” She sat beside his buried torso and began digging a small window in the sand, revealing Denki’s tummy.

“Nohohohohot you tohohoo-AAAHH NO! PFFTAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! AHAHAHALL OF YOU!!”

“Haha, his hair’s standing on end!” Jirou pointed out.

“Coochie coochie coo~! This is what you get for breaking into my room and stealing my towel! And then setting up a trap!? Really, Denki?”

“IHIHI’M SAHAHAHAHAHARRYY!” The tickling felt so much more intense with how little he could move away from six hands! “PLEHEHEHEHEEAAASE!!”

Momo dipped a finger into his belly button and wiggled it around, Mina was focused on tickling underneath and in between his toes, and Jirou found a particularly sensitive spot behind his ears. Tears pricked the corners of Denki’s eyes.

“You’re gonna kill meeeEEAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA J-JIROU EEEEHEHE NAHA *snort* NAHAHA *snort* NAHAHAT THEHERE! NOT THERE NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE! PLEHEHEHE *hiccup* EEHEHEHEHEEEEE!!”

“Haha aww, you must have found a really good spot, Jirou!” Mina beamed.

Momo paused for a moment, startled by Denki’s sudden hollering. Jirou appeared to be mildly flustered by how much of a reaction she was getting out of the boy. Her evil smirk melted into a bashful smile.

“Hey! Are you guys torturing Denki or something??” Sero yelled, rushing towards the scene.

“More or less,” Mina answered.

“GUHUHUYS SERIOUSLYYY! I’M GOHOHONNAHA BLOW A FUHUSE!”

“I think you can take a liiittle more, can’t you?” Mina sang.

He shook his head weakly.

“You two should probably slow it down a bit,” Momo said.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s lying about the fuse thing,” Sero agreed.

Mina did not heed their call and Jirou was in her own little world. That was, until—

“YEOWCH!” Mina screamed.

“AH!” Jirou yelped.

“Weehehehei~”

Sero put his hand on his forehead and shook his head. Momo resignedly began digging Denki out of the sand.

“Oops, hehe…” Mina said with a sheepish grin. She began uncovering his legs.

Jirou blinked. Realizing what had happened, she pitched in as well.

Sero joined in and the four of them uncovered and untied the short-circuited boy. They carried him to an umbrella Sero had set up earlier and set him down onto a beach chair in the shade. Sero began fanning him with a paper fan Momo had created.

“Are you alright, Denki?” Mina asked.

“Wei,” Denki replied, giving her two thumbs up.

“Sorry if we pushed you too far…” Jirou apologized. “But don’t go doing something like that again, okay? Mina could’ve gotten hurt!”

Denki nodded. Mina began rummaging through her bag. She pulled out a small bottle of pineapple juice.

“Here, you can have this,” she said, handing it to him.

“Th-thank you. Come closer for a second.”

Mina did so. “Yeah?”

“Sorry for stealing your towel. And for trapping you.”

“It’s okay, I forgive you!”

He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her closer. “But don’t bury me again!” He lightly tasered her side.

“EEK! Okay okahay!”

“You didn’t mind the tickling, then?” Jirou sneered.

“Oh, shut up!”

#tickling #tickle fic #denki kaminari #lee!kaminari #momo yaoyorozu #ler!momo #kyouka jirou #ler!jirou #mina ashido #ler!mina #hanta sero #bnha #princess scrawlings #request

[booksnplaysnthings]

Hello tumblr, here is my argument for why James is still alive at the end of IWWV:

So I’ll start with James’s last words to Oliver when asked where he is going: “Hell. Del Norte. Nowhere. I don’t know.”

It can be presumed that when he says Hell, he means death (he almost certainly would believe he was going to Hell after he died). “Nowhere” could also be a reference to what might happen after death: absolute oblivion. Del Norte is a seemingly obscure answer (until later), but nevertheless, it is a physical place James could travel to. So he basically has two options: death or Del Norte, and his “I don’t know” solidifies that he has yet to make up his mind.

***

Fast forward to when Oliver receives James’s letter containing this passage:

Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rock,

Wash’d me from shore to shore, and left me breath

Nothing to think on but ensuing death.

What I have been I have forgot to know;

But what I am, what teaches me to think on:

A man throng’d up with cold: my veins are chill,

And have no more life than may suffice

To give my tongue that heat to ask your help;

Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead,

For that I am a man, pray see me buried.

Oliver recalls that James had recited this passage while they were on the beach together in Del Norte. *So James’s earlier comment about Del Norte was not random* This seems to confirm that James ultimately decided to go to Del Norte after he left Oliver (and did not drowned himself). Why else would he have brought up Del Norte in his goodbye AND include this relevant passage?

***

Furthermore, the passage contains more proof that James is alive.

On first glance, the diction in the passage seems to point towards James’s death; “Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rock, / Wash’d me from shore to shore, and left me breath / Nothing to think on but ensuing death... A man throng’d up with cold: my veins are chill, / And have no more life than may suffice...”

But the facade of death would be necessary should anyone other than Oliver open the letter.

***

The passage is spliced together from two lines spoken by Pericles in Pericles, Prince of Tyre Act 2, Scene 1.

He has been shipwrecked, is almost dead, and asks a group of fishermen to help him. They do, Pericles is saved from the water, and is introduced to his love, Thaisa.

Later in the play, Thaisa is presumed dead at childbirth and her body is thrown overboard a ship. Her body, however, washes up on shore, and she is revived.

At the end of the play, Pericles and Thaisa are reunited after years apart—wherein Pericles believed Thaisa to be dead—and the play ends happily.

***

This is the only play with a happy ending that has a significant role in IWWV. Throughout the book, the character’s lives have reflected the plots of the plays they are performing. Therefor, it can be inferred that James and Oliver’s lives will mirror the plot of Pericles.

It could just be coincidence that James chooses a passage from a play wherein the lovers are reunited after one has been presumed dead at sea for years... but our of everything Shakespeare ever wrote, this seems to be an odd choice for James’s final goodbye to Oliver, and, as Oliver said, “...the implications of the text and its small part in our story are impossible to ignore, too critical for a scholar as meticulous as James to overlook.”

James is trying to tell Oliver, in a way he knows only Oliver will understand, that they will be reunited and have a happy ending together.

***

I’ll also add that in Act 1, Scene 1 of IWWV—a scene wherein Oliver is actively learning a Pericles monologue—Oliver says that James would be the Cressida to his Troilus because he was the only one pretty enough. That makes James Thaisa in this story; Oliver will realize he is alive after years of thinking James was drowned.

***

Also, I can’t ignore the line, “But that is how a raggedy like ours or King Lear breaks your heart—by making you believe that the ending might still be happy, until the very last minute.”

This is what Oliver says having not yet read James’s letter—and it is certainly true of the story up until the epilogue.

IWWV is all about subverting and challenging the structure of Shakespearean tragedy, though. Therefor, it makes sense that this story would make you think it’s a tragedy, until the very last minute. This is the only way the final page and that quote work together.

***

So there you have it. James is alive and living as a recluse in Del Norte, waiting for Oliver to come and save him.

#iwwv quotes #english literature #literary #literature #if we were villains #quotes #shakespeare #william shakespeare #james and oliver #the secret history #dark acamedia #dark academism #iwwv #donna tartt #richard papen #meredith dardenne #alexander vass #wren stirling #m. l. rio #ml rio #filippa kosta #richard stirling #james farrow #oliver marks #literary analysis #analysis #romeo and juliet

[nixcwen]

➳ melting softly | ryomen sukuna

“You’re more afraid of this than the King of Curses? What a bizarre human you are.” He was quite right, you couldn’t retaliate so you hugged his neck tighter, burying your face in his collarbone. “You seem to be getting comfortable with me, shall I let you go to make you feel otherwise?”

“The most mighty King Sukuna, please have mercy on this powerless human. I might not die by your hands but if you let me go, either way, that will be the end of me.”

A deep chuckle escaped his throat before proceeding to answer you. “That’s right. I’m powerful enough to decide whether to keep you alive or kill you-“ just as he said that you felt the terrifying feeling of falling, almost taking all the air in your lungs as you shout for your life- “you have quite the luck, I won’t be letting you go anytime soon.”

Did you hear him right? Or was it the wind distorting your hearing?

“Open your eyes, human.” You don’t want to realize you’re at the edge of a 55-floor-high building just like you did earlier so you shook your head left and right to disagree. A sigh left his lips. “I said I’m not letting you go. You’re brave enough to embrace me, this should be easier. Come on, open your eyes, human.”

With his words and your serenaded heart, you decided to do so. You were still atop a building but at least you weren’t at the edge anymore. Your eyes were welcomed by the city lights, billboards, buildings, and various vehicles. They twinkled brightly under you. What was most fascinating above all, however, was the crescent moon in the sky. The freezing wind that continued to brush against your skin didn’t seem so intimidating as you felt the heat of Sukuna’s body when he secured his hold of you in his arms.

“Not so bad, hm?” He asked. Maybe it was the moon reflecting the glow you see in his eyes but he seriously looked so ethereal you doubted he was a curse.

You answered him without hesitation or any thoughts. “Not bad at all.”

If curses are a manifestation of negative emotions, how can this curse contain consideration? How can he appreciate such scenery with those eyes- almost identical to how humans do? Could there still possibly be a bit of humanity left in him?

“I thought you didn’t want to die?”

You nonchalantly hummed, actually inattentive of his query. "What're you talking about now?"

"You’re unbelievable.” The curse shook his head left and right. “What if I crush you? You don’t see me as a threat now, do you?"

"I don't think anyone has died because of cuddling, just relax, 'kuna-“ you shifted to a more comfortable position in his noticeably sturdy chest- “also, you had many chances to kill me yet you didn’t. I’m thankful you still haven’t. I know this is such a dangerous gamble I’m taking but I’m still going to do it anyway.”

A long silence filled your bedroom. Only the swish of the curtain could be heard as it was blown by the wind. When you taught Sukuna the way to your home, he didn’t bother coming through the door, and he didn’t even close the windows. In turn, you thought you’d just enjoy his heat keeping you from being cold. A few more seconds after the initial silence, he finally spoke.

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I told you to caress me.”

You tilted your face up to look at him while he stared at the ceiling. He heaved a deep sigh, making you wonder, so you answered him with a question, “Then what else…?“

“Forget about it. I guess this is alright too.”

You nodded your head as if agreeing with his statement, then you proceeded to ask him.

“Can I touch your hair? Please?”

He closed his eyes, murmuring. “Do what you want.”

With that, a little smile blossomed on your lips. You removed yourself from your previous position, pushing yourself higher until you reached his shoulders, you placed one hand on it to rest your chin. Meanwhile, your other hand settled on his head. You combed through his hair carefully, eyes watching the curse’s face, mindful of his reaction.

“I’m not supposed to do this.”

“What?”

“Holding a curse close to me, admiring him, and feeling this flutter in my chest because of him.”

There was warmth in his embrace that made you think you never want to let go- but then eventually, you left the comfort his arms provide.

From afar, Gojo stands atop a building. He removes his blindfold, staring at the scenario that unfolds before his eyes.

“First, you thought a curse was attractive. Now you bring him home? You’re insane, Y/N.”

temporary madness (until it isn’t); a series: part 1, part 2, part 3

taglist (join here!): @pyschopotatomeme, @1000crows, @drlngn​, @anonima-2, @bel20blog, @pulchritxde

AHHHH! What do you think about this? Please let me know! I don’t know why the replies have been turned off on my previous posts but I’ve read them, I’m really really thankful for the interest and support you’ve shown. Thank you soooo much for reading, I hope it brought you a little joy. 😊💕

P.S. - I’ve been listening to the acoustic version of ‘Body Back’ by Griffin and Maia Wright while writing this. You might want to listen to it too, I think it fits this series well, hehe.

Sincerely, Nixxy ♡

#by nixxy #jjk by nixxy #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk fanfic #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [2] WHAT HAPPENED IN THE LORD’s HOUSE

Daryl Dixon x OC!Charlie Reed

Summary: The group’s happiness ends with scary events that fate brings at them. Charlie has to say goodbye to her friends and that brings her attention to what happens to her.

Warnings: language, killing walkers, death

Song

Words: 6.214

A/N: Hello! It’s a second chapter in part 2! Soon, the action will be more dynamic and we will jump to my favorite seasons. I hope you like this chapter, and if you do then like, comment and share! Enjoy :)

Two feelings dominated her at the moment. Charlie sat alone on the floor, her thoughts consumed by a sense of regret. She was worried about Bob, feeling angry that she left him alone in the dark, while she should have waited for him and help him if he needed. At the same time, she knew that Bob probably saved her life, because she could have been the missing one right now, if he never followed her outside.

Which was only making all of it worse.

And there was also disappointment. It wasn't the first time Dary had disappeared without a word, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions and unspoken promises. Their friendship had always been a delicate balance—a dance between loyalty and uncertainty, trust and doubt. She knew he wanted to rescue Beth from whatever, and bring her back home - to them. And yet, despite his understanding, Charlie couldn't shake the sting of disappointment that lingered in the air like a bitter aftertaste.

Charlie's mind wandered to Beth. As she sat alone in dimly lit church, the memories of Beth flooded her mind. She remembered how they first met on the farm, Beth had approached her with a warm smile and a kind word - she was always approaching everyone like this. Charlie's mind drifted back to that fateful day. She remembered the hollow emptiness in Beth's eyes, as she was talking about death. Of course, Andrea said it was her, who saved Beth; however, Charlie liked to think that her words were the those who kept Beth alive.

As time passed and their paths diverged, Charlie had allowed the distance to grow between them. Was it a lack of communication? A failure to understand one another's needs and desires? Charlie's selfishness?

"What happened to her?" she asked Maggie who was sitting next to her. "Beth."

"Daryl said they were running from the herd and she was taken," she answered.

"Taken?"

"By a car with a white cross on the back," she said. "But he doesn't know if she's still alive."

Charlie looked at Maggie, and tried not to show the skeptical glint in them. Maybe all of the above were the reasons why she hadn't even noticed the lack of bright presence of Beth, once the group reunited. Or maybe, Charlie already buried her in her mind, thinking she died in the prison. So maybe even now, Beth was already dead in her mind.

"You shall not give up faith," said Gabriel and placed his hand on her shoulder. Charlie jumped, not expecting such contact, looking up with furrowed brows.

"What could you possibly know?" she answered. "You've been alone here for this whole time."

"I wasn't alone," Gabe said. "God was with me."

"Great," Charlie muttered under her nose.

"I know it's hard, but we have to keep going," he said. "We can't afford to give up hope."

"What do you want, Father?"

"I just noticed you seemed... troubled. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's just dandy," Charlie scoffed. "Especially knowing you're lurking around."

"I get it," he nodded without any offense. "You don't trust me."

"Why would I trust you?" she looked at him. "Because you're the priest? I don't know you, and you didn't give me a reason to trust you."

"We're all the creation of the same Master," he answered. "We must hold onto faith. Faith in something greater than us, in ourselves, and each other."

"Or else what? What if we doubt?" Charlie asked. "We will all burn for this?"

Father Gabriel swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat as he grasped the weight of Charlie's accusations. She observed his reaction intently, searching for any hint of guilt or deception in his eyes. Sensing the scrutiny, Father Gabriel rose abruptly from his seat and strode away, his intended task abruptly interrupted by the confrontation.

"Stop. What are you doing?" angry Sasha commanded, as she stormed into the church. "This is all connected. You show up, we're being watched, and now three of us are gone!"

"I don't have anything to..."

"Where are our people?!" she screamed and pushed him. Father Gabriel stood before her, his expression a mask of calm despite the storm of emotions raging within him.

"Please, I don't have anything to do with this," he said softly, reaching out a hand in a gesture of peace. His gaze never wavered, his eyes reflecting a deep well of sorrow and understanding.

Rick's instincts kicked into overdrive as he watched Sasha, stepping forward and blocked the angry woman's way, protecting Gabriel from potential injury. As he pulled her away, a surge of something dark and primal washed over Rick—an anger so sudden and consuming that it threatened to swallow him entirely. His muscles tensed, his jaw clenched. Charlie had known Rick for some time now, she had watched his transformations from lost husband and father, to dictator, to farmer. But in that moment, as Rick loomed over Gabriel with a menacing glare, she could sense something different than just leadership —a darkness lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. Just how Carl was talking her about.

With almost a primal grunt, he took Gabriel by his collar. "What are you gonna burn for, Gabriel? What did you do?!"

"I lock the doors at night. I...always lock the door at night," the priest cried suddenly. His voice so thin and panicked due to Rick's outburst. "They started coming, my congregation. Atlanta was bombed the night before and they were scared. They were...They were looking for a safe place, a place where they felt safe. And it was so early. It was so early. And the doors were still locked," he said. "You see...it was my choice. There were so many of them, and they were trying to pry the shutters and banging on the sidings, screaming at me. And so the dead came for them," he confessed. "Women...children. Entire families calling my name as they were torn apart, begging me for mercy. Damning me to hell," one more sob left his lips as he relieved the memory. "I buried their bones. I buried it all. The Lord sent you here to finally punish me," he finally said and as Rick's grip loosened, Gabriel dropped to the ground and entered some kind of trance. "I'm damned. I always lock the doors."

Charlie felt a chill going down her back, as she couldn't shake the image of him standing there in the church, his hands stained with the blood of those he had sworn to protect. She didn't trust him from the beginning, thinking that he was the bad guy. But now, as the truth of his betrayal came to light, she felt a wave of disgust wash over her—a sickening realization that the man was nothing more than a coward and a traitor. How could he, she wondered, how could he betray the trust of his congregation, forsake his sacred vows, and abandon those who had looked to him for salvation, those who trusted him? The thought made her stomach churn with revulsion, a bitter taste of betrayal lingering on her tongue.

However, hadn't she done the same thing? Lurked people who trusted her to a place that was supposed to be safe, and then run, letting them die.

From her thoughts she was taken by the whistling. Not any whistling, a special melody that once almost made her go crazy.

"There's someone outside lying in the grass," Glenn reported.

The sight that greeted the group outside the church was enough to turn their stomachs. Bob lay crumpled on the ground, his face contorted in agony, white cloth wrapped around the place his leg should be, turning red. Sasha cried and the group was fast to get Bob inside of the church; however, the Walkers were taunted by the smell of blood, appearing from behind the bushes.

Charlie's anger ignited like a flame, burning hot and fierce within her chest. Every swing of her weapon was fueled by the rage that burned within her—the anger at Daryl for his absence, at Gabriel for his betrayal, at the people who had hurt Bob, and at herself for the sins of her past that came back to her once again. Each blow struck with the force of her pent-up emotions, a release in the face of overwhelming despair.

But amidst the chaos, a sudden shoot echoed through the air. Rick was quick to react. "Get inside!"

Charlie's hands trembled as she drove the blade of her knife into the skull of the walker, again and again, long after it had dropped to the ground and stopped being any danger to anyone. The sound of gunfire echoed in the distance, a grim reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the safety of their makeshift sanctuary. But Charlie paid it no mind, her vision blurred by a haze of emotion as she fought to drown out the chaos that raged around her.

With each thrust of her weapon, she felt a fragment of her anger slip away, replaced by a numbness that spread through her like a wave. She no longer saw the walkers as mindless corpses, but as symbols of her own inner demons—monsters that she could kill with the sharp edge of her blade.

"Hey! Hey. He's already dead," Rosita said and pushed her body up holding her arms. "He's dead. And if we won't move...we will be too," she looked her in the eyes and forced Charlie to get inside the church.

"Somebody knocked me out," confessed Bob, and it was the first thing Charlie heard after entering the church. "I woke up outside this place...it looked like a school. It was that guy, Gareth."

Charlie glanced at Rick, unaware of Gareth's identity. She speculated that he might be someone from Terminus, perhaps as nice as the man they had encountered in the shed. However, Rick's reaction betrayed his knowledge, his expression changing into one of fear and fury.

"They were eating my leg right in front of me," Bob said. "Like it was nothing. They couldn't do that back there, so they were so proud. Thinking that they have all figured out."

"Did they have Daryl and Carol?"

"Gareth said they drove off."

Charlie's heart sank as the news of Daryl's departure with Carol reached her ears. A profound sense of betrayal washed over her, mingling with the ache of abandonment that gnawed at her insides. She had trusted Daryl, relied on him as an ally, and now, to learn that he had left without a word, left her feeling as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath her feet. One thing was certain—no matter the reason, the sting of his departure would linger long after he was gone, a bitter reminder of the fragility of trust and the scars left behind by those we hold most dear.

She looked with a heavy heart at the man on the ground and that's when she saw it. Missing flesh from his shoulder. Bob was bitten...Shock coursed through her veins, freezing her in place as she struggled to comprehend the cruel twist of fate that had befallen her friend. Fear gripped her, tendrils of dread snaking their way around her chest as she grappled with the harsh reality of their situation - Bob's tragic fate.

Her heart broke one more time.

With gentle hands and heavy hearts, the group carefully lifted Bob's limp form, cradling him as though he were made of fragile glass. Charlie led the solemn procession, as she guided them to a secluded room - where Bob could rest and not hear about their master plan, at least for the time they were making it. They laid him down upon a bed of blankets and pillows, arranging his belongings with care beside him.

"Time for reality check," Abraham said. "We all need to leave for DC right now."

"Daryl and Carol are gonna be back," Rick said.

"I respect that, but there's a clear threat here to Eugene," he said. "I need to extract his ass before things get any uglier. So if y'all won't come, good luck to you. We'll go our separate ways."

Tension crackled in the air like static electricity as Rick and Abraham stood face to face, their expressions locked in a silent battle of wills. Abraham's eyes burned with a fierce determination, his jaw set in a stubborn line as he squared off against Rick. Who, on the other hand, radiated a quiet intensity, his gaze unwavering as he met Abraham's challenge head-on. His fists clenched at his sides.

In the midst of the chaotic yet sipent battle between Rick and Abraham, Charlie seized the opportune moment of distraction. With a swift movement, she pulled Eugene close to her, his startled eyes meeting hers in wide-eyed bewilderment. Pressing the barrel of her gun firmly against his temple, she felt a surge of adrenaline course through her veins, her heart pounding in her chest with the weight of her actions.

They heard a click of a gun and turned around, seeing Eugene almost crying from fear. Without hesitation, Abraham held his gun up and pointed at Charlie.

"Don't shoot!" Glenn yelled both at Abraham and his best friend.

"Charlie," Rick said.

"Stop right now," she commanded. "We're in this together. So you will help us and wait, or you won't have a reason to go to DC."

"Eugene's mission is too important," Abraham said firmly.

"Then you leave us no choice," she said. "We'll take Eugene with us."

"You threaten me?"

"I'm giving you a choice," she said. "Eugene's life is in your hands."

"You lay a finger on him, and I swear..."

"You'll what? Shoot me?" Charlie scoffed. "Go ahead."

Abraham's grip tightens on the gun, his expression torn between duty and sympathy. He stood amidst the palpable tension, his mind raced with a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He thought of the road they had traveled together, the trials they had faced, and the bonds they had forged in short time. But amidst the memories, a nagging voice whispered in the back of his mind—a voice that urged him to break free, to strike out on his own in search of a life untethered by the constraints of duty and obligation.

Glenn's frantic pleas cut through the haze of his thoughts, pulling him back to the present with a jolt. The urgency in Glenn's voice was unmistakable, his eyes wide with fear and desperation as he implored Abraham to lay down his weapon. "Let's calm down."

"If you stay just one more day and help, I'll shut the hell up and go with you to DC. And I'll never question your decisions. No matter what," Charlie said.

"After what you just did, you're not getting close to Eugene without my permission!" he yelled. "There's no way I'm letting you go with us. I want Glenn, Maggie, and Tara."

"No way," Rick shook his head.

"We will go with you," Glenn agreed immediately.

"Glenn, no."

"This is not your call," he said angry and then he turned back to Abraham. "You stay...you help.

With a heavy sigh, Abraham lowered his weapon, the tension in his shoulders easing as the grip of his anger and frustration. Glenn's relief was palpable, as he reached out a hand to clasp Abraham's in a gesture of solidarity.

"Dammit," the ginger muttered under his nose. "12 hours. Then we go."

"Charlie let him go," Glenn told his friend.

She released the grip she had on the man, hands shaking and feeling tired by her own actions, and pushed him slightly. "But I will shoot if you try to break the deal."

"And I will shoot if you try this again," Abraham warned her and passed without a word.

In the dim confines of the room, silence hung heavy like a suffocating shroud. They waited with bated breath, the tension in the air palpable as they strained their ears for any sign of movement outside. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of fabric, sent shivers down their spines. It only intensified, once they heard steps and creaking of the floor, each of them tried to manage their feelings on their own.

Rosita's boredom was palpable, her restless energy vibrating in the air like a live wire. Her fingers tapping impatiently against her thigh as she struggled to contain her frustration. Carl fidgeted with his weapon, his eyes darting restlessly around the room as he longed for the opportunity to confront their enemies. Gabriel, on the other hand, was a picture of fear and resignation, his hands clasped tightly in prayer as he sought solace in the familiar rituals of his faith. And then there was Bob, lying m on the bed, his body weakened by the bite of the undead.

As the footsteps drew nearer, their anxiety reached a fever pitch, the air thick with anticipation and dread. Especially Eugene, who was on a verge of crying. And then, with a sinking feeling in the pit of their stomachs, they heard the voices—cold and calculating, filled with malice and intent.

"Well, I guess you know that we're here," the man said. "And we know...you're here. We're armed. So there's really no point in hiding anymore. We've been watching you. We know who's here," he said. "There's Bob...and Eugene...Rosita...Martin's good friends Tyreese...and Charlie...Carl...Judith," he was counting them down, and a chill ran down Charlie's spine. Also, Charlie looked at Tyreese as she was shocked that the guy from the shed was alive. "Rick and the rest walked out with a lot of your guns. This is a big place! Let's stop now, before things get painful."

"You're behind one of these two doors, and we have more than enough firepower to take down both," once again Gareth spoke. "Can't imagine that's what you all want."

The guy was talking too much. Charlie wanted to kill herself right there right now so she wouldn't have to listen to his annoying voice. If that was supposed to scare them? It wasn't working...Maybe a little, but it was just due to the fact that she knew what they were capable of.

"How about the priest?" Gareth asked. "Father, you help us wrap this up, we'll let you walk away from this."

The first mistake they made, entering the room: forgetting not to trust the priest. They focused so much on everything around that they forgot that Gabriel was a coward, who let the whole community get killed for his safety. They should have at least tie him and put something in his mouth.

"You can take the baby with you. What do you say?" he taunted the priest.

Charlie's gaze flickered towards Gabriel, her expression hardened by the gravity of their situation. With a silent determination, she shifted her gun, its barrel now aimed squarely at him, a silent warning to remain quiet. Her eyes bore into his, a silent plea for compliance as she conveyed her message without a word. It was better to be safe than sorry.

But then someone else opened their mouth. Judith started crying out of nowhere, the sound of her voice seemed even louder in the silence of the night.

But then, as if from out of the darkness itself, a sudden commotion erupted beyond the closed doors—conversation that shattered the oppressive silence like a thunderclap. Charlie's breath caught in her throat, her senses heightened as she strained to discern the source of the disturbance. Panic surged within the group, their eyes wide with fear and confusion as they exchanged frantic glances, their minds racing with a thousand unanswered questions. And then, amidst the chaos, a piercing screams tore through the air—a sound so raw and primal that it sent shivers down their spines. It was a cry of agony, of despair, a haunting lament that echoed long after it had faded into the darkness.

Tyreese cautiously pushed open the doors, a wave of dread washed over him, freezing him in his tracks. Charlie, standing close behind, felt her heart lurch at the sight that greeted them—a scene of carnage and horror. Blood spattered the walls in grotesque patterns, the metallic scent thick in the air as it mingled with the stench of death. Corpses littered the floor like discarded dolls, their lifeless eyes staring blankly into the abyss, their bodies contorted in the final throes of agony. Charlie's breath caught in her throat, her stomach churning with disgust as she took in the scene before her. It was a scene straight from her worst nightmares, a nightmare made real in the dim confines of the room.

As Charlie's gaze met Rick's, a chill raced down her spine at the unsettling glint she saw in his eyes. He placed his hand - covered in blood, just like everything else, on her shoulder as he hugged her slightly, and Charlie tensed her body. The group passed her as if nothing had happened and Charlie's eyes then locked with Maggie's, Glenn's, and Tara's in a fleeting moment of connection. Their eyes held a quiet resolve, a steadfast determination to protect those he loved at any cost.

"This is the Lord's house," she heard Gabriel saying, barely holding on.

"No," Maggie said. "It's just four walls and a roof."

It was a sunny day, giving hope after last night terrors. However, their hope was rather crushed and destroyed to pieces with the prospect of saying goodbye. She entered the room that became empty as she was the last person to talk to Bob.

Bob lay on the simple cot, his breaths shallow and labored. His body was wracked with pain, the effects of the walker's bite spreading through his veins like wildfire. His eyes, once bright with life, now held a distant gaze as he fought against the inevitable.

"Charlie," Bob cooed and smiled. She managed a weak smile, though pain. Charlie moved closer, taking a seat beside the bed. She reached out, gently clasping Bob's hand in her own, the gesture a silent offering of comfort. "What's with that face?"

"It's just...hard to accept," Charlie confessed, searching for his eyes.  "I'm sorry, Bob," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. "I wish there was something I could do."

Bob squeezed Charlie's hand weakly, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "You coming here to say goodbye is enough," he whispered. "Thank you for everything."

Tears welled in Charlie's eyes as she struggled to find the right words. She shook her head. "You've been a good friend, Bob," she said hoarsely. "I'll never forget you."

Bob managed a faint chuckle, though it quickly dissolved into a coughing fit. Charlie leaned in, offering support as Bob struggled to catch his breath. When the fit passed, Bob's breathing was even more labored, his strength fading with each passing moment. He smiled weakly. "You have to promise me something."

"Just name it."

"Promise me you'll keep fighting. Promise me you won't let this world crush your spirit. Do it not just for me...but for Luke."

"What?"

"I knew it was you," he said. "He showed me a picture once. He was carrying it everywhere," he added. "He was a good man, Charlie. He talked about you all the time. When we met I recognized you immediately and it was as if I knew you."

Tears welled in Charlie's eyes as she listened, her heart heavy with the weight of loss and remembrance. "I miss him every day," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

"He always had my back...so did you," Bob said. "He loved you so very much. You and your brothers. So...Promise me you won't give up."

"I promise, Bob. I'll keep fighting. I'll make sure your sacrifice wasn't in vain."

"Thank you, Charlie."

Sasha's mournful cries echoed through the stillness of the church, not so long ago after Charlie left them alone. She stepped back inside and closer to Sasha, she placed a hand on her back.

As Charlie's eyes fell upon the lifeless form of Bob, a wave of sorrow washed over her, mingling with the empathy she felt for Sasha. She couldn't help but feel a pang of compassion for Sasha, whose cries now seemed to echo with an unbearable sense of loneliness and abandonment. With a heavy sigh, Charlie knelt beside Bob's lifeless body, gently reaching out to comfort Sasha, knowing that in this moment of tragedy, they were all bound together by a shared sense of mourning and sorrow.

"I can't," she sobbed, squeezing the knife.

The weight of the decision hung heavy on her shoulders, torn between the desire to ease Sasha's suffering and the moral implications of taking a life, even one already on the brink of becoming something monstrous. With a furrowed brow, Charlie wrestled with herself, knowing that whatever choice she made would alter the course of their shared fate. But before she voiced her thoughts, a spread hand moved next to her and reached for a knife.

"You step out," Tyreese said to his sister, but then looked at Charlie. He wanted to help her as he knew what the girl was forced to do.

Perched on the worn steps of the church, Charlie watched in silence as Abraham and his group hurriedly packed their belongings, preparing to depart. A sense of sadness enveloped her as she observed the bustling activity around her, feeling like an outsider in their midst. Despite the familiarity of their shared surroundings, there was an undeniable distance between her and Abraham, his attention focused solely on the task at hand. As she sat alone with her thoughts, Charlie couldn't shake the pang of loneliness that gnawed at her heart, longing for a connection that seemed to elude her grasp. 

"He likes you," Rosita said, stopping next to her. "And he can't get over the fact that you can't go."

"He didn't let me."

"He's a man."

"He's a soldier," Charlie corrected her.

She chuckled. "I think I might have judged you wrong."

"Yeah," Charlie nodded. "I thought we would have more time together."

Rosita nodded with a small smile, patted the other girl's back, and before turning away, she said: "Take care, Charlie."

"Rosita," Charlie called her name, stopping her. "Just...stay safe out there. All of you," she added nodding her head in Abraham's direction.

"We will," she nodded.

"And promise me to take care of Glenn."

She nodded with a small smile.

As Charlie watched Rosita walk away with a heavy heart, she couldn't shake the feeling of regret washing over her. She realized that she hadn't given Rosita a fair chance for friendship, and now she was leaving, perhaps never to return. The missed opportunities to bond and connect weighed heavily on her mind, and a pang of sadness settled in her chest. She wished she had taken the time to get to know Rosita better.

As Charlie turned around, she found herself face to face with Glenn, a familiar face amidst the bustling crowd. Her heart skipped a beat as memories of their first encounter flooded her mind. She remembered how they had met in Atlanta, and how Glenn had became a beacon of hope.

And now, as she looked into his eyes, she saw the same unwavering resolve that had drawn her to him all those months ago. "We were supposed to stick together."

"It sucks," he nodded. "But this is what we have to do."

"I'm gonna miss you, Glenn," she whispered.

She squeezed him tightly, as if trying to imprint the feel of his embrace into her memory, knowing that soon it would be just a distant echo in the recesses of her mind. She felt his grip tighten in response, his silent reassurance a balm to her frayed nerves.

She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her, how grateful she was for his friendship and his unwavering support, but the words caught in her throat, choked by the lump that had formed there.

Instead, she buried her face against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of sweat and dirt and something uniquely Glenn.

"This isn't goodbye forever. It's until we find a way," he said, pushing her slightly away and holding her face in between his hands. "And we will. We always do. Soon we will meet in DC."

She nodded her head. "I don't want you to go."

"Come on, no tears," he said and wiped a single tear that ran down her cheek. "You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow... less freaked out by my terrible jokes."

Charlie chuckled through tears and Glenn smiled, too.

"That's better," he nodded and once again he hugged her. His arms wrapped around her felt like a lifeline, anchoring her in a world that seemed to be slipping away with each passing moment.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Charles," he said.

"Take care of yourself out there, okay?"

"You too, Charlie." he answered and they let go of each other and sighed. "See you around."

"Count on it."

"This is our route to DC," Abraham said and gave a map to Rick. "We'll stick to it as long as we're able. If not, well, you got our destination. This group should be there for it. To see a new world."

"We will," Charlie looked at Abraham but he didn't even looked at her, then he passed her with offended face.

As the group prepared to part ways, there was a somber yet determined atmosphere lingering in the air. Charlie stood among them, her expression a mix of sadness and resolve.

Each member exchanged heartfelt embraces, conveying their gratitude, love, and respect for one another. Glenn shared a final hug with Charlie, his eyes conveying a silent promise to stay strong. Maggie hugged Charlie tightly, whispering words of encouragement and hope. Tara stretched her arm to bump their fists, but Charlie just pulled for a hug - not as tight as Maggie.

Then, everyone got into the fire truck and Charlie watched them go, her heart heavy with the weight of their absence yet lifted by the bonds they shared. Charlie couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with her. It wasn't just the usual flutter of anxiety that accompanied social interactions; it was something deeper, something darker that clawed at the edges of her consciousness.

Charlie felt a lump form in her throat as she watched her friends disappear down the street, the engine fading into the distance. She wanted to call out to them, to beg them not to leave her, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she hugged her arms around herself, trying to hold herself together as the tears threatened to spill over. She knew she couldn't keep running from her thoughts forever, but the thought of facing it head-on was almost too much to bear.

And later that day, they buried Bob's body.

Charlie was sitting outside the church in the dead of night, surrounded by the dense forest. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows around her. She was haunted by memories of Bob's death, his face etched in her mind. It wasn't the only loss she experienced that day. Thoughts of Glenn were flooding every part of her brain, consuming her to the bottom. But now, her most loyal companion was gone, and she had no idea where in the world he could be. His absence left a gaping hole in her heart. As she sat alone in the quiet of the night, Charlie found herself longing for the warmth of Glenn's presence, yearning for the comfort and strength he always provided.

Moreover, she missed Abraham's lingering presence.

"Mom, dad, Finn, Luke, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle, Andrea, Zach, Patrick, Hershel, Mika, Lizzie, Bob,” she whispered. “Mom, dad, Finn, Luke, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim…”

When she said his name, a sudden realization ran down on her, and the thought made her mortified to the bone. As she sat alone on the steps of the church, her thoughts drifted to Jim, a friend she had lost not long ago. His words echoed in her mind like a haunting refrain: "You will wake up and you will feel empty inside, but before you will watch everyone go. Each death will take a piece of you and you won't be yourself anymore. You will be mad just like me."

At the time, Charlie had brushed off his words as the ramblings of a man on the edge of death, but now they seemed to carry a weight she couldn't ignore. Was she destined to lose everyone she cared about, one by one, until she was left alone in the darkness? And would she truly go crazy, as Jim had predicted, her mind unraveling like a thread pulled too tight?

Charlie shook her head, trying to banish the dark thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Mom, dad, Finn, Luke, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle, Andrea, Zach, Patrick, Hershel, Mika, Lizzie, Bob.”

As Charlie sat lost in her thoughts, the sound of approaching footsteps disrupted her reverie. She looked up to see Michonne, sitting down slowly.

"I heard you talking," Michonne said softly, her eyes searching Charlie's face. "What's on your mind?"

Charlie hesitated, unsure if she was ready to share her inner turmoil. But something in Michonne's gentle gaze urged her to speak. "It's just... my thing," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Michonne nodded in understanding, her silence offering a comforting presence. She touched Charlie's arm and squeezed it. "We all need to learn how to live with what had happened in the prison."

"Yeah," Charlie nodded, knowing very well that her problems reach far beyond prison's walls. "But I think worse things happen after the fall."

Michonne's gaze flickered briefly, a shadow passing over her features before she met Charlie's eyes. "It's true," she admitted, her voice tinged with regret. "After what happened to Hershel... I saw him being killed with my own sword. The very weapon I had wielded to protect us."

A heavy silence settled between them as Charlie absorbed the weight of Michonne's revelation. The air seemed charged with shared grief and the acknowledgment of the burden they both carried.

"I thought I could move past it, keep fighting," Michonne continued, her tone a mix of vulnerability and determination. "But every time I pick up that katana, I see his face. It's as if I'm reliving that moment over and over again."

Charlie nodded, a silent understanding passing between them. The shared pain of losing someone close. Charlie placed her hand on Michonne's shoulder and rubbed it gently. "We all carry a burden," Charlie finally said, her voice a whisper. "The weight of the past can be suffocating."

"What happened in the forest Charlie?" the woman asked. "It's been crazy those past couple of days, but you can talk to me."

Charlie hesitated, her eyes reflecting the weight of a secret she could no longer bear alone. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked directly into Michonne's eyes. "It was Lizzie and Mika," she confessed, her voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.

"The girls Carol was taking care of?"

"Lizzie... she killed Mika. I had to do it," she stated, tears welling up her eyes. "I...had to do that. To protect us. To protect Judith."

As the truth spilled from her lips, the darkness seemed to close in around them, suffocating in its intensity. But in that moment of raw vulnerability, Charlie felt a sense of release, as if the burden she had carried for so long had finally been lifted. Michonne pulled Charlie into a comforting embrace, wordlessly offering solace in their shared pain. "You did what you had to do," she said firmly. "And you're not alone. We'll get through this together."

The sound, sharp and unexpected, pulled them from their hug with a jolt of apprehension. Instinctively, they turned towards the source of the disturbance, their senses on high alert. The darkness seemed to deepen around them, the shadows growing more ominous as uncertainty hung heavy in the air.

With hearts pounding in their chests, Michonne and Charlie exchanged a silent glance, a silent vow passing between them.

"Where's Carol?" Michonne asked the question, so Charlie already knew who to expect.

Her heart skipped a beat when a familiar figure emerged from the shadows. It was Daryl, his silhouette outlined against the moonlit backdrop. For a moment, Charlie's emotions threatened to overwhelm her—anger, hurt, and relief all swirling within her chest. She had thought he was gone for good, his sudden departure leaving her feeling abandoned and alone.

But none of them made a step forward. None of them even said a word to each other. Daryl was the first to break the silence, but his words were directed at someone. "Come on out!"

But it wasn't Carol.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon series #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl the walking dead #daryl twd #daryl x reader

[jitzlemonade]

https://jitzlemonade.tumblr.com/post/680118986796630016/unnamed THIS WAS SO GOOD!!!!!! can we please have a part 2

UNNAMED PART 2

Finally got the inspiration to finish Unnamed Part 2 yay, but its more of a Zhongli's POV :D. I was quite surprise some wanted a part 2 bcs lol who hurt u. Anyway, enjoy.

Pairing : Zhongli x Reader (ft. Lumine)

Contains: Angst, heartbreak, not Traveller!Reader, assuming things, mental health issues (maybe?), etc

Summary:

We know your side of the story, but what about from the man himself?

Tell me, what exactly was going through your head? PART 1 PART 3 PART 4

---------------

He finds himself wondering when and how did he fall in love with you. A petite, fragile person who somehow held all the good things in this world and became the morphine to all his pain. 

  Perhaps it was the way you light up with the brightness of the Sirius star itself when he comes near, or perhaps it was the way you treat him with such tenderness, the fondness flooding your eyes, that makes him swoon over you the way he does.

---------

  He is strong. He may have weakened after he lost his gnosis and renounced the title 'Rex Lapis', yet it was an undeniable fact. He isn't fragile like annealed glass, no, he was far from it. He was forged and tempered in the flames of brutality and war. 

   Even now when he closes his eyes, memories appear before him. They belong to the far, far past when fresh blood would stain his hands anew every day. The lives he had taken were enough to form an endless river, some were fair and some were unjust.

   He would never deny that part of him,  even as he indulges himself in wine and poetry. Instead, he delves deeper into weaving tales in an effort to keep their stories, the core of their souls alive. Stories that had long been buried in the dust, existing only in his memories.

   Time is cruel, the brightest of legends would fade into a dull light. Even truths could be turned and twisted until nothing but lies and deceit are left. Time is cruel, to the worst and the best of us.

  Erosion held Azhdaha in a vice grip, rendering his old friend into a rampaging monster. His mind, however, was still clear. He was cursed to never forget, to remember things that no one else would until the end of his existence. 

  If he looks at it from another perspective, perhaps erosion had left its own personal brand of mark on him too, but in a different form. Corroding his soul from the countless burden he has to carry, to remind himself of the sins he could never undo, and of the people he would never see again.

 He doesn't need any delicacy, not back then and certainly not now. Yet why do your tender actions melt his heart so? Even as Zhongli, no one had ever perceived him as someone who needed protection, much less as Rex Lapis, the mighty god. It was the first time anyone had ever treated him this way.

 

   And just like that, you occupied a special place in his heart.

--------------

   When you placed your hands in his, you told him in a light-hearted tone, “I'm giving my heart to you, you can do whatever you want with it.” The way you said it could be mistaken for a joke, but he knows you.

  He knows clearly what this signifies for you, and he knows exactly what you're giving to him along with your heart. You will surrender your love, your life, your everything to him, free for him to break or make according to his whims.

  You had given him the privilege of making you a monarch or rendering you into a beggar. All of it, with just one simple sentence.

   How could he not love you? And so, protect your heart he shall.

--------------

   He remembers the beginning of your walks. Back then, you weren't his lover yet. Still, you draw him in like a moth to a flame, but you weren't scalding him, instead, a feeling of contentment swells within him like never before, filling up the cracks in his body and soul.

   He loves your presence beside him, to be able to hold your hands and draw you in close, to shower you with all the good things in the world. He wants you to be closer to him, to see him as how he sees you. In hopes that one day, when his hand reaches out, you would gladly place your own upon his.

  He wants to know you better, and he wants you to know him better too. After all, doesn't familiarity breed fondness, and thus love? Taking night walks together would be best, he mused, you could share your day about what happened and spend more time together.

Of course, the hint of privacy that the night provides would be appreciated as well. Thus, he tried his luck by extending an invitation to you.

--------------------

   

   He could feel dread seeping into his bones when you stared at him with a blank stare. Ah, would you not accept it after all...? He thought the atmosphere was good enough that extending such an invitation would not be too sudden, but he was wrong. 

  The moment he was about to apologize for being too abrupt, your hands went to cover your mouth, face turning ruby red like glistening strawberries under the shade of the morning sun, tempting people to have a taste.

     Before he could regain his rationality, you began speaking at a hurried pace, mostly from embarrassment.

     “I— I— Is this a dream?? Am I dreaming—" 

   

     Your hand cupped your face, taking in a deep breath. 

     

    “Sorry Zhongli— ”

    

   The word 'sorry' was foreboding. He felt downcasted once again, his hopes tarnished. The corner of his lips hook up weakly, what did he expect? That you would gladly accept his offer? Thinking about it now, that was a little naïve of him.

   Seeing this, you panicked.

    “—I mean I like you very much! Wait no, that's not what I meant to say, I mean, it's not that I don't love you, please don't get it wrong that way, I do love you but that's another thing for another time..” 

   By the time you realized you were rambling, you calmed yourself down by slapping your face. The effects were quickly apparent, your tone became calmer in a blink of an eye, but the red handprint on your cheek was blinding.

   

    “What I meant to say is Zhongli, I would really like to go on walks with you..”

   Wait— you like him too? It wasn't just his hopeful thinking? Like your actions aren't just you being kind and polite but that you actually like him? His train of thoughts was running at full speed, surpassing even light itself.

  

   His line of thought was broken after you slapped yourself, he crawled out of the rabbit hole he was about to dive into, deciding to leave it for another time. Now, he was more concerned about whether your face hurt a lot due to how hard you slapped it.

  However, your next sentence threw his worry out the window, his brain submerging itself with an overabundance of dopamine. Yup, he is not getting his reason back anytime soon. He could feel the blood flushing his cheeks and quickly covered the lower half of his face with his hand.

  The palpitations of his heart were so fast he swore it skipped more than a few beats. His stomach feels funny, and he could remotely pinpoint said feeling was similar to the expression 'butterflies in the stomach'.

 

   Ah, so this is love?

-----------------------

  He caresses your hand in his, the way his hands engulfed yours awakens his need to protect you from all the evil in the world. Humans are fragile, he thought to himself as he traced the delicate bone structure of your hand, it just means he has to protect you better.

  

   He placed kisses on each of your knuckles as he looked at your face. Something else he realized was that he really adores the way your eyes flutter from embarrassment.

  He gazed at you, a smile hanging on his face, unable to extricate himself from the fondness welling up in him. Getting to meet you was luck in itself, but getting to be the one by your side, to be the one allowed to love and cherish you, it was a blessing he couldn't be any more grateful for. 

  

   If everything he had gone through was all to lead him right to this moment, then it was worth it. He would do it all over again because you are worth all the pain. He wonders how lucky he must be to have met you.

Before both of you part for the night, he leaves a kiss on your forehead. Instead of moving away, he wavers, his hand enclosed around your waist tightening just slightly, dragging out each second. He doesn't want this night to end, he thought to himself. It was clear you wanted the same, the way your hands clutched at his clothes, reluctant for him to go.

   Yet everything must have an end, they will come to an end, no matter what. His lips leave your forehead, but he proceeded to bury his face in your hair. He could feel your arms circling him, enveloping him in a hug. Just like that, the night drags on a little longer, with two lovers embracing each other under the moonlight.

---------------------

  As Morax, he had dwelt upon this world for more than six thousand years. As Rex Lapis, he had ruled over Liyue for thousands of years.

However nothing last forever, even the most fortified mountains can be eroded with the passing of time. Drop upon drop, it penetrates the crust and leaves cracks behind its trail. He only realized it due to that one conversation he overheard at the harbor.

    "You've finished your duties, go ahead and call it a day."

     Funny enough, how can a simple sentence evoke such profound feelings in him? He stood motionless among the crowd, the words loudly echoing inside his mind, resonating deeply in him.

He asked himself, "Have I already finished my duties?" He fell into a deep trance, pondering over relinquishing his role. It wasn't impossible, but was Liyue truly prepared to face the tribulations that will surely come after all by itself?

   In this case, a test is needed to reveal the answer. His eyes opened to reveal amber orbs, knowledge, and wisdom always crystallized within them, but this time there was a hint of curiosity.

He wonders, what kind of Liyue would bloom after the upcoming tribulation? He finds himself looking forward to it.

   His scheme starts from the moment 'Rex Lapis' fell from the sky. The falling exuvia was reflected clearly within those amber eyes, now, it was time for 'Zhongli' to play his part.

----------------

   The result was so much more than what he expected. While Liyue is prosperous, he always felt something was missing. Now, finally, all the conditions and requirements fall into place, similar to a game of chess. Liyue had truly exceeded his expectations.

   

  The lump of coal resting in the hands of the Geo Archon — Liyue — has become a dazzling diamond of a city. The corner of his mouth hooked up, and a sense of satisfaction arises within him. A sense of pride fills him like a parent who had seen their child grow up into a splendid adult.

    They were no longer the people who begged him to save them in the distant past. They were no longer the citizens who could only rely on him to lead a safe life. Presently, they are more than capable of protecting themselves, fledglings that finally grew their own strong wings and took to the skies.

    

  It was time for gods and adepti to step down and for humans to take the stage instead. Truly, the age of 'mankind'.

    He never thought he would let go of Liyue which he poured so much of his blood, sweat, and tears into but life always has other plans. Just like falling in love, he mused to himself as you surfaced in his mind. 

    

   It was indeed time to settle down, he took a moment to admire the waves pulling to and fro the shore, how wonderful would that be? A life with you beside him every step of the way.

    His time as Rex Lapis had come to an end.

  

    Now, it belongs to 'Zhongli'.

   

---------------------

   He wouldn't lie, the time he spent with Lumine was truly enjoyable. A bright lady who stands at the peak, one who had traveled across many different worlds and accumulated an abundance of experiences along with knowledge.

   

 Conversing with her would enable him to learn more about mortal affairs,  intricate details that he never considered for he was immortal.

It only helps that she came from an entirely different realm. Her adventures were eye-opening as well, and her having a good listening ear for his stories was just an extra bonus.

  Most important of all was that she was someone he could talk with without taking anything into consideration. Lumine knows he once was Rex Lapis, thus he has no need to hide anything that suggested so.

He could share his vast knowledge without someone questioning the authenticity of it. He could share tales of his old friends in their true entirety, without painting them from the perspective of a storyteller.

  For him, it was a time when he could be himself without the slightest pretense.

---------------------

He is— no, he used to be a god. 

It was something he could never bring himself to tell you. How could he? Rex Lapis was someone who had almost single-handedly leaded Liyue to prosperity for many years.

  Rex Lapis was so far high up, and power always attracts envy or jealousy. The people either devote themselves to him or detests him. There was one thing both had in common, however, was that they fear him.  He doesn't want your eyes upon him to contain the same trace.

   While the time spent with Lumine may be liberating, in no way could it compare to the time spent with his love. Lumine was someone he could confide in as a close friend, but it will never match up to what you offer him.

You were akin to an oasis in the middle of a desert, providing shelter to the unfortunate people that stumbled around the desert, lost.

  You were the moon that hung in the sky, not as blinding as the sun, yet you give him an indescribable warmth. Your silence was enough to piece together the broken parts of his soul to become whole again.

With you, he truly felt at peace, the bitter memories of the past no longer clung onto him with a vice grip, and he could finally... relax.

----------

  During his travels with Lumine, you never left his mind. Your presence and smile envelop him akin to the wind and sun itself, natural and comforting.

  

  Breathtaking scenes and mysteries that one could never imagine filled his eyes, and all he could think of was how much he wished you were there to share it with him in its entirety.

  

 It seems that the photos taken by Lumine would have to do in the meantime. He looked at the sunset, thinking of what you may be doing at this hour. No matter, he'll bring you here himself the next time. A smile appeared on his lips before he even realized it.

   “Zhongli.”

   

 Lumine called his name, and so he turned towards her with an inquiring gaze. She had a soft gaze when she looked at him as if she was reminiscing, or was it something else?

   

  “You really love them, don't you?”

 

  No name was mentioned, but there was no need for any. He knew well enough who Lumine was referring to, he felt his heart melt like snow in spring as he gazed back at the scenery once more.

  

    “Yes, I do.”

  Lumine smiled when she heard his answer. It was simple, but sometimes simple was enough to convey everything that are said and unsaid. 

   “I hope that after I have found my brother, I'll be able to experience a love like yours.” 

  

  Zhongli chuckled, his eyes curved into small crescents.

  “I extend to you my best wishes then.”

   He couldn't wait to go home to you.

  Distance indeed makes the heart fonder.

 

-----------

    The day you told him your apprehension, the worries that plague your mind, he felt his heart turn cold. He felt himself biting his lips until they bled. How could he have been so ignorant of your plight? 

  All he could do was hold you in his arms and placate you with words and promises he will fulfill. He felt how you cling to him as if it was cold winter and he was the only source of warmth.  His heart tightens in pain as he littered kisses on your forehead.

 

 Yet as much as he wishes to stay by your side, the contract with Lumine was sealed. He may no longer be Rex Lapis, still, he has to uphold his end of the contract, as Zhongli.

  Still, he tried his best. Every day when he couldn't make it, he would send you letters telling you about his day, what he did, even enclosing things he encountered in the letter. A violet grass, a glaze lily, and even a piece of cor lapis.

 He never had any letters from you though, but it was only reasonable. He was traveling, after all, it's ludicrous of him to think any letters sent would reach him when he doesn't even know where he will end up.

 

   It's fine, he would tell himself, tomorrow is the last day. He will be free after that. He'll spend the days by your side, pampering you with all the love he could draw out of his soul. After all, that is what you deserve, he thought as he smiled.

------------

  He came home not to laughter but to your sullen appearance, your face blank, deep in thought. He falters, his hand attempting to hold you in an embrace.

 The wooden board creaks beneath him and you flinched, startled by the sound enough to pull you back into reality. You greeted him with a soft smile, but he felt something was off.

 Whatever is it that has you contemplating, it is weighing upon your mind heavily. Thus he does what he does best, inviting you out for a late-night walk. He hopes this will make you let down the walls in your heart, so you confide in him once more.

 The truth was the thing that burdens you was baffling to him. The fact you even asked whether he loves you was so outrageous that his brain couldn't comprehend it. How dare you question that when there's nothing else he could be more certain about?

 

 He loves you, and he loves you so much that you may never comprehend it. He would tread through the coldest of winter and the deadly heat of the desert for you, even facing against Khaenri'ah if it means protecting your honor.

 

 He would gouge his heart out for you, letting his blood dye the land and the sea a bloody red similar to rubies and roses, so they would serve as an everlasting memento of his love. He would prostrate before your feet, kiss the instep of your foot and worship you, for you were his salvation.

 

 He would adorn your body with gold and jewels, while only the finest of silks would clothe your body, he is confident that even then, all that glamour would pale in comparison to the beauty of you and your soul.

Alas, he was no longer Morax, he was just Zhongli. A mortal man like Zhongli could not lavish you with such riches, and that was his regret.

  Looking at your distrustful eyes he sighed, how could he ever let you understand the depths of his feelings towards you? He was tired and angry, and he could tell all of it stemmed from his sadness. He promises you forever and forever is the only road he will and could ever walk. 

  The next sentence that slips out your lips sends him spiraling into the abyss.

  “This isn’t Romeo and Juliet, this is real life and I can go on without you.”

  The love you shared with him of course wasn't Romeo and Juliet. They were a pair of ill-fated lovers, destined to part. Juliet was not you, and he was not Romeo, your love was meant to last, even if the sun itself ceased to burn one day.

  He has given you his everything, yet you believe you had nothing at all. How can he stand it? Especially when you had no trust in him? When the gravity of his feelings was easily dismissed by you as nothing? He bit his lips, feeling his own tears welling up in his eyes.

  Yet he could not let out his frustration at your inability to trust him, how could he when you look so dazzling under the moonlight? The way your features soften, and how the silvery hue compliments the tears that glisten on your face. 

 Then you suddenly fell. The panic overwhelms him, unlike anything he had experienced before. He rushed out towards you. All his bitterness seemed so childish now. He should have done better, he should have because you deserve all that and more.

 

 He wonders how could he have been so foolish in the first place. He dashes towards Bubu Pharmacy as your body feels strangely cold in his arms, the warmth he always felt absent. 

 

  Please, let everything be alright.

PART 1 PART 3 PART 4

#zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin zhongli #angst

[natequarter]

QUEEN MOTHER. If Thomas Becket were a faithless woman whom you still hankered after, you would act no differently. Sweet Jesu, tear him out of your heart once and for all! She bawls suddenly: Oh, if I were a man!

becket's gender politics are... interesting, to say the least, but oh boy. to have matilda saying this line... the failed heir to the throne, too much a woman and at the same time not enough, wishing she were a man to rectify the situation while explicitly comparing thomas becket to one of henry's mistresses! she commands her son to obey her (as a father should), but henry does not listen - for she is not, after all, a man. it's reminiscent of beatrice in much ado about nothing - "O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place." followed immediately by:

YOUNG QUEEN. I tolerated your mistresses, Sir, but do you expect me to tolerate everything? Have you ever stopped to think what kind of woman I am? I am tired of having my life encumbered with this man. Becket! Always Becket! Nobody ever talks about anything else here!

just in case you were in doubt about the becket/mistress metaphor (which you weren't). also fascinating that unlike her husband and mother-in-law, eleanor makes no appeal to transgress her own role as a woman and henry's wife (though that position is threatened by becket), but instead says that she shall complain to all her male relatives, all the kings in europe, and, crucially, god, in this conflict of a king and an archbishop. (everyone is always calling to god for help in becket. god is suspiciously quiet throughout.) henry, as king, is the highest power in the kingdom, so both eleanor and matilda appeal to patriarchal power to fix the becket problem - eleanor to call upon it, matilda to be it, since it is the only method they have to wield power - neither of which they actually do. the play is riddled with such transgressions of gender, from matilda's "if i were a man!" to gwendolen's suicide to escape henry's lust.

KING. (Moaning, with his head buried in the mattress) I can do nothing! Nothing! I'm as limp and useless as a girl. So long as he's alive I'll never be able to do a thing. I tremble before him astonished. And I am the King! [...] Are there none but cowards like myself around me? Are there no men left in England?

what a little shit. but also: whereas his mother frames the becket problem as henry being the man and becket his mistress, henry frames himself as 'useless as a girl' - i.e. becket is the one with power over him, the one dominating him. partially to avoid culpability for his actions - henry is, after all, king, the most powerful man in england; partially plain misogyny (equating weakness with womanhood, particularly that of a girl); and partially because, as archbishop, becket is the most powerful churchman in the country, and his power is outside of henry's domain. does becket have him in his thrall? or does henry have becket in his thrall? hard to say. but what the play makes very clear is that henry's grasping power corrupts everything it touches - from his wife to his son to becket - and he is unable to have an equal relationship with anyone, as both a man and a king. becket is first his servant, then allied to a different higher power. for once in his life henry doesn't have absolute control - both literally, and because he loves becket to distraction, beyond all else - and he doesn't know how to deal with either of those things.

so he doesn't.

#becket

[merlinisnotover]

Buried Alive

Whumptober Day 25

It was dark and damp. Merlin reached around, touching wooden walls and trying to figure out where he was. It smelled of earth, and suddenly it came to him. 

He’d been buried alive. 

Well, at least it wasn’t the pyre. 

He sighed and sent out a tendril of magic, trying to find how much earth lay atop his grave. It seemed Uther had done the job properly when he’d discovered Merlin’s magic, for the earth was dense and deep above him. Still, he could probably escape, so long as no one was watching when he made it out to run him through or something else more immediately mortal.

Then he’d have to go on the run, he supposed. He would miss Camelot.

Slowly, he poked his magic through the earth, creating a hole to give him air and time to think. 

He wondered absently what Uther had told Arthur. Possibly he had spared Arthur the news of Merlin’s supposed treachery and told him that there had been an accident. Or perhaps he had used Merlin’s magic as another tool to turn Arthur into himself. 

He wondered if Arthur would miss him. If he would grieve him. 

He wondered if he had fulfilled his destiny well enough that Arthur would be safe. 

Pressing up again with his magic, he tried to determine where he had been buried and if there were any guards. 

Before he could determine anything, though, his airway collapsed as frantic hands tore at the soil above him. 

He couldn’t hear anything beyond the shifting of dirt high above him… was someone digging him out? 

A pause before the concussion returned with a hefty force, a shovel? His magic hummed happily where it remained threaded through the dirt, as the mysterious rescuer shoveled furiously, finally hitting the wood of Merlin’s coffin. 

A voice joined the shovel through the wood, a familiar one. 

“Hang on, Merlin, I’m getting you out,” Arthur said. “Just a little longer, hang on.”

“I’m alright,” Merlin called. 

A sound suspiciously like a sob tore through Merlin’s heart and the shovel pressed back into the earth forcefully. 

Finally, Arthur tore open the lid of the box in a shower of dirt and Merlin looked up at his prince’s flushed face. 

“Merlin,” he breathed, reaching a hand down to help Merlin from the box, then up out of the hole. Both on solid ground again, Arthur threw his arms around Merlin, clinging tight to his tunic. Both men were covered in dirt and sweat but neither let go for a long moment. 

Arthur stepped back eventually, holding Merlin’s shoulders and examining him for injury. 

“You’re sure you’re alright?” 

Merlin nodded. “I think I must have been drugged because I don’t remember anything but it wore off. How did you even find me?” 

“Don’t worry about that, I have my ways.”

“Leon?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “You know who did this to you?”

Merlin nodded again. 

“Then we shall speak of it no more,” Arthur said with a stern expression. 

“And what will we tell… people?”

“I did what needed to be done, and I will face the consequences.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said softly, “do you know why?”

“Yes,” Arthur replied. “But you’ve renounced it. Gaius vouched for you. And we shan’t speak of that either. Not until I am king. Is that understood, Merlin?”

“Yes, sire.” 

“Good. Though why you didn’t use that to protect yourself I’ll never understand.”

“I would have if someone hadn't insisted on a rescue mission with his bare hands!” Merlin retorted. 

Arthur cuffed him lightly on the head and pulled him back into a one armed hug. 

“You’re really sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m sure.” 

“Good. Let’s go home.” 

Merlin smiled and let Arthur lead them back to Camelot. 

#angst with a happy ending #whumptober #bbc merlin #merthur