#fellow Romanians will know exactly what I mean by these | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

morelike-bi-light · 4 years

Note

Victoria x Heidi ? i mean, why smeyer never think about it... oh i know why!!!

I’m so sorry I got this late, anon, and I hope you’re still around because the potential that this ship has destroys me... The tragic past.... the betrayal... the misunderstandings.... the reunion. I would absolutely write a fic if I had the time, just picture it...

The utter resentment Victoria would feel seeing Heidi stand with the vampires that killed their sisters... the faint pulse of grief and anguish and the simmering anger in Heidi's heart, choked down by Chelsea's spell, when she sees Victoria tethered to a man so like those who abused her as a girl...

Their story would diverge from canon before Twilight takes place. It's 1998 and Maria, the Egyptians, and the Romanians conspire in secret to build a newborn army to destroy the Volturi, but they will not be so hasty in their execution as they’d been in the past.

For this, they need vampires who are special, including a tracker, so Maria uses her American resources to find James. No Demetri, but he’ll do. Victoria will be a bonus, an unkillable fighter and spy, but she freezes at the proposal, old griefs and repressed terrors gnawing at her nerves. She urges James to say no. He placates her half-heartedly. But they promise him power, and when that fails to entice him, they offer him a chance to play the ultimate game: hunting the most elite of their kind. He agrees, and drags her and Laurent along with him.

Slowly, they manage to pick off the weakest members, targeting whoever leaves isolation, until a fifth of the members have been disposed of. (Some of the nameless ones we know nothing about, for sake of ease.) This strategy only takes them so far, and soon the groups are forced to face each other head on. They meet in battle. The Volturi have the advantage of powers, but there are rebel recruits with powers too, and their numbers - hidden so carefully using powers, strategy, and stealth, because Maria has learned plenty since her first war - easily quadruple theirs. It’ll be close.

The casualties soar, each Volturi member taking out five or six to every one the rebels fell. Victoria works her way to the frontline, and by happenstance, it's Heidi staring opposite her, still as arrestingly beautiful as she remembers. The fight between the two is all instinct, all feeling, and the anger and hurt in Victoria's heart is intense enough to make her feel sick but not enough to stop her from throwing herself on the brunette's back. She's shaken off easily; the two seem to be at an eternal standstill... until a newborn of abnormally impressive speed and strength manages to rip Chelsea's head from her shoulders, and Heidi...

Heidi crumples to the ground at Victoria's feet. In perfect harmony, nearly a third of the remaining Volturi stagger to a stop, some losing their heads for their hesitation, but Victoria is frozen, watching.

A few soft, low, distressed groans rumble in Heidi's throats, as she brings her hands to her head, as her face shifts from that callous serenity into pained confusion. The redhead just stares at the bent over figure of who was once her sister, disturbed, suspicious, curious and worst of all, worried, as the noises fade into whimpers, before stopping altogether.

And then all at once her expression folds into a great, gaping grimace, and from her throat tears a gross, broken wail. It’s a cry like an infant’s, a plea for relief offered with no understanding of why or from what. Around the battlefield, the few others who survived being freed from Chelsea form a chorus. The fighting starts to slow, as members of either side use the distraction as an opportunity to escape the carnage and coalesce with their fellow soldiers on their own territory.

Someone grabs Victoria’s arm - she hisses, eyes wide, nobody touches her, how - and she looks up at Laurent - the terror drains, her body has never flinched away from Laurent, he’s safe -

“Come on, Tigress,” he snaps, neither smooth like silk nor warm like summer and she hesitates. He growls and pulls and he runs, and she is dragged behind him, almost floating, and she only turns around just in time to see Heidi’s wide, black eyes lock on her, igniting with a fury so hot it singes her from a hundred yards away.

“What was that?” she demands in a hush, when they get back to the others, when she crosses over to Maria and bends down low and bends close at the side of her chair.

“You know Chelsea could control bonds,” Maria huffs, not impatient but not gentle either. “Killing her has the side effect of weakening the enemy forces. Quicker, than we had hoped, too.”

“The screaming, Maria,” Victoria pushes.

Maria scowls. “I heard it, too, Victoria! What do you want from me?”

“What exactly have her powers been doing to them all this time?”

Maria’s eyes flutter shut, before she sighs, a performance, but an earnest one, and beautiful, too. “We don’t know. But we are doing all that we can in retaliation, now.” She pauses. “I am sorry, about James. He was... He was not a man I liked to work with, but he had his strengths. And I know he meant something to you.”

Victoria stops, for a moment. She looks around at the others gathering there, few of them familiar, only one of them known. Softly, she thanks Maria and leaves her to plan. She hadn’t even realized that James was dead. She goes to Laurent’s side, and they sit on the forest floor, leaning against one another.

“I know he meant a lot to you,” he says, and she doesn’t reply. “I know you never wanted to get involved in the first place. If you leave now -”

She shakes her head. “I need to see this through,” and when he looks at her, she shrugs, “it’s what he would have wanted?”

He looks away, shrugging in that way of his, and she thinks he knows that she isn’t feeling anything she should. Maybe if she wasn’t at war already. Maybe if he had died some other way, at someone else’s hand, someone who wasn’t trying to kill her, too. For centuries, she’d felt tied to the world by him. Her hips by his jealousy, her throat by his teeth. Her eyes by the time he tried to kill her and her feet by his failure.

Something else is pulling her through now, though, and not by a puppet string, or a leash. A hand, Laurent’s hand, on her arm, and the sound of the most beautiful mouth in the world stretched open in a broken scream.

Miles away, in a shallow cave, that same mouth is smeared with the scent of human blood. The pain had hit first, then the anger, then love, but after that when the hunger had crushed her in its embrace, smothered in the name of duty to a coven that had abducted her from herself, there had been little room for anything else. But now, sated, resting, her mind conjures a face, and a word comes to her lips, unbidden.

“Sister...” she gasps. It’s what Hilda had called them, but it doesn’t feel right.

“Victoria,” she tries again. Better.

A different face slithers into her head.

“Foul creature...” She stands up. “Disgusting tyrant!”

The image of Aro smiles back at her in her mind’s eye, unaffected by her words, distantly amused at best. But she has known him, and his cronies, and his wives. She has memories upon memories of a woman like her who bowed to his every whim for four hundred years, and she has a girl that she loves and the army accompanying her to listen, and now... she has a voice.

“I’m coming, Victoria... I’m coming, rat king,” she sneers, and disappears into the black, red stare flashing.

She will raise that voice to a riot and rip him to shreds.

...

So... yeah. They’re lowkey probably my second favorite Victoria ship.

40 notes · View notes

lilyjxmes · 3 years

Text

i get by with a little help from my friends || jamestan

when:during filming for Pam and Tommy

description: Lily has a panic attack after reading some negtive comments about the casting choice for her as Pamela. Sebastain is there to help her.

tags: anxiety tw, panic attack tw.

@sebasstan

lily

Lily had just changed out of her final costume, it was all starting to feel real. This was so crazy. She had never done a role like this before but she always wanted push herself, if it didn’t slightly scare her, then she figured it wasn’t worth doing. Lily went back to the green room and made herself a coffee, she was waiting to see if they needed her for anything else. Lily sat on the sofa, her legs folded underneath her. At first she was just scrolling through Instagram but then she did something that she regretted. She searched her name on Twitter. Lily never did anything like that, and she fully regretted it in an instant. There were so many tweets talking about how there were so many ‘better’ options than her to play the part. Looking through the list of names, Lily started to doubt. Would all these people be better than her? Would she be able to pull this off. She put her phone down and wiped the corner of her eyes, trying to calm her breathing down but her thoughts were already running away with her.

seb

Sebastian was in wardrobe undressing from the last scene, unsure if he needed to get ready for the next one. This role was thrilling for the older Romanian because he had openly expressed at comic con years before how playing a part in a motley crew movie would be his absolute dream role. And here he was, about to play fucking Tommy Lee - his emo phase finally paying off. He had prepped immensely for the role, dropping a ton of weight but still keeping fit to stay true to the part all while wrapping his last movie in Vancouver and doing promo for the falcon and winter soldier. His life felt like it was on overdrive but he wasn’t mad about it in the slightest. The costume designer gave him to the okay to end the day and the older male couldn’t have been happier to wrap after the long day. He thanked the costume designer before saying goodbye and making his way out. Where did Lily go? he thought to himself, wanting to at least see his fellow costar before he left and to also let her know the cast and crew could head home. Sebastian asked around to a few people before being directed to the green room, a smile instantly pulling from his face as he saw his costar sitting on the sofa. “Lils! Hey! Everyone is...” his enthusiastic voice trailed off into in a mere whisper as he saw how upset the younger blonde look. Had she been crying? He questioned himself, closing the door behind him to allow them some privacy. “Is everything okay?” He asked cautiously, not wanting to step on any toes. They had gotten to know each other before all this started, but this was their first personal interaction and he just wanted to make sure he followed her lead and didn’t do anything to disrespect or make her feel uncomfortable.

lily

Lily knew it was a bad idea, but when she started, she couldn't stop. It seemed that everyone was against her these days. It was one of the reasons she was so excited to move to LA and get started on a new project but it just brought her back into how she felt before she left. People were calling for the likes of Megan Fox or even Sebs wife, Margot to play the part over her. Maybe they were right. Would Margot be mad at her? Lily had got so close to both Seb and Margot but she would hate it if they thought she should be there instead. Lily was so proud of herself when she got the role, she knew it was different from what she usually did but that is what excited her. Lilts head snapped up when she heard Seb come through the door. "Yeah, it's fine." She said, going to put the cup in the sink. She pushed her lips together. "Am I- Is this-" Lily sighed, sitting back down and putting her hands over her face. She let out a breath and looked up at her friend. "People online have very strong opinions on me playing Pam." She said, biting her inside cheek. "And it's hard not to believe them." Lily admitted.25 March 2021

seb

As Lily began to speak, Sebastian felt his heart sink. He hated that this was happening right now. The male honestly had not idea about these strong opinions people were voicing because he took an active stance against using social media - only using his platform to speak out on topics he believed in instead of personal use. With his brows furrowed, Sebastian walked up and sat down next to Lily, turning his body so he could better look at his younger co-star. "Lils, I don't know what any of these people are saying, but you can't pay attention to it." He said with concern laced through his words as he gently reached over and took the phone out of her hand. He swiped out of the screen she was on before shutting off her phone. The last thing she needed was to have this talk and then reopen her phone to it and experience the feelings all over again. "I get it though, now that you've seen it it's kind of drowning out your thoughts. That's how I get sometimes, at least. You know you're a badass and can take on this role, right?" He questioned, needing to know where her beliefs on this were before he moved forward.

lily

Lily knew as soon as she put her name into the twitter search it was going to end like that. There had been a lot of things said about her in the past but she was someone with thick skin, she could normally let it bounce straight off her. She had been living in LA for about a month now and she loved it, it felt like this was where she was meant to be. But all of a sudden these doubts started creeping in. "I know, I know." She said, pushing her lips together and angling her face away from her co star, who had now become one of her good friends, and wiping a tear away. She was thankful he took the phone off her. A small smile appeared on her face at his words. "I mean, it's not exactly Cinderella." Lily laughed slightly. "It's just so different from what I've done in the past." She said, which is what most of the things online were saying. Lily could feel herself starting to panic and again and tried her best to control her breathing. She finally looked up at Sebastian, feeling a comfort in having him there. "You think I can?"14 April 2021

seb

Sebastian could see how upset Lily was about this and it honestly broke his heart. He hated that these online trolls were getting the best of her because she didn't deserve that, no one did. "I know you can, Lily." He confirmed, his bright blue eyes locking with hers. "I know this is all different for you, but you got this. It's a new challenge for you and I think you're about to show everyone that you're meant to be playing Pam." He said with a smile as he placed her phone behind him, away from her view. "I know how rough self doubt can be. I also know how hard it is to play a darker role, and just know I'm going to be here for you every step of the way, okay? We're a team with this and whatever you feel like you need to practice, we can do that." He offered her a smile, hoping his words were coming across as reassuring. Lily had became one of his best buds and he didn't like seeing any of his friends so upset like this.19 April 2021

lily

Lily didn't know if it was the pressure of the role or the fact she had been so far away from home for so long but it was like the pressure of everything got to her. She loved working on the project and everyone had been so lovely but she still felt so out of place sometimes. Lily looked at Seb and pushed her lips together, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "Thank you." She smiled at him. "You've been so good to me over the past few months. I am so lucky that I got to go on this journey with you." Lily said. At every stage of the process from casting to pictures to trailers, there had been support there but she always saw the odd few people getting on at her. "I'm sorry." Lily said, shaking her head. "You did not sign up to be my therapist in all this." She said with a laugh.

#( para. )#( sebastian s. )#( anxiety tw )#( panic attack tw )#( not sorry for the long as title )

1 note · View note

inmyownlittlecorner5 · 4 years

Text

Moonlight Chapter 18: Romanian Holiday

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 18/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Seventeen+

Chapter Nineteen+ >>

It was Monday morning before Severus finally arrived at the Merry Cemetery in Săpânța, spinning into sight alongside a stout Frenchman and his sharp-featured wife. Severus’s stomach lurched as he landed, and his entire body ached from the Cruciatus that the Dark Lord had cursed him with two nights earlier. It might have been wiser to have stayed at Hogwarts for another day before traveling but he did not care to put himself in Albus’s sight line longer than necessary. Sunday’s dressing down over the Potter fiasco was as much as he wished to endure.

“You came!” Miranda said, her smile bright as the morning sun that was beating down on him.

“I said that I would,” he replied tersely, muscles tensing as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her warm lips against his. They were enticing, and tasted pleasantly of coffee and cream, but he could feel the French witch’s curious eyes watching, ruining the pleasure that he would usually have taken in such a gesture. Thankfully, Miranda kept her greeting short, releasing him and putting a respectable distance between them.

“I know you did. But I thought you might chicken out in the end. You kept putting me off.”

“There was nothing to be done about the demands on my attention,” he said defensively. “Perhaps I have been spending so much time around you that your bad habits are beginning to affect me. Aren’t you the one who is constantly tardy?”

“I guess I am,” she allowed. “Well, you’re here now, that’s the important thing.” She grabbed his hand and started pulling him along, pointing at the garishly painted grave markers. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

His stomach was still reeling from the covert French port-key trip—why Miranda had connections to an illegal international port-key he had decided not to ask—and a headache was beginning to bloom between his eyes.

“No,” he answered, his hand limp in her tight grip. He felt completely disoriented; the sun was too high in the sky, the air smelled like fecund earth instead of like the sea, and a riot of blues, reds, and greens assaulted his eyes. His corner of Hogwarts was a sober gray and black, predictable and constant. This place hummed with a promise of the unexpected, and Severus knew that at any moment the Mark on his arm or the mirror in his pocket would demand his attention, ending this ill-advised venture before it even began.

She stopped in front of one of the markers and mercifully dropped his hand.

“Mental note, no hand holding,” she said under her breath before explaining, “All of these were painted by one man, his pet project. Aren’t they beautiful?”

Severus studied the image of a young man in old-fashioned dress riding a bicycle. The somewhat amateurish portrait was bordered by doves, poppies, and that bright blue that was the theme throughout the strange graveyard.

“If by beautiful, you mean garishly morbid,” he commented.

“That too. I thought you’d like them. The artist even wrote a little verse about how each person died. This fellow met with a knife, if you can believe it.”

“Charming.”

“When I get back to Edgewood, I’m going to try to talk Papa into doing this in our family plot.”

“Somehow that does not surprise me.”

“Mine will say something like, ‘Here lies Miranda, she was cut in two by a werewolf’s bite. Pray for her soul, lest she gnash her teeth with those who’ll never see the light.”

“That is a terrible rhyme.”

“How nice of you to say so. Yours will say ‘Here lies Severus, he died an ass. Now kindly take your tears off his plot of grass.’”

A smile tugged at his lips in spite of all of his worries. “Fitting. Although I fail to see how I will come to be buried in your family’s graveyard.”

“No, of course not,” she said quickly. “I’m sure English earth will be the final place for you.”

“Obviously.”

“Listen, maybe this was a bad idea. If you’d feel more comfortable back home, you can just take the port-key back. I’ll understand.”

Why on earth had she said that? He finally looked at her and, while she was still smiling faintly, there was a tension around her lips and the brightness of her eyes had clouded over.

“I am here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but I get the feeling you’d rather not be. I don’t understand it myself, but I do know that not everyone likes to travel. My mother and my brother Finn hate it. I just wanted you to have a chance to relax, and if this isn’t the right place for you to do that, then maybe you’d better go somewhere else where you can.”

He let his eyes wander back to the exotic grave marker. It was true that this vacation of his was an unnecessary risk. While he was not a coward, his life currently involved so much risk, that taking on more seemed like the highest form of idiocy. He wasn’t sure exactly why he’d agreed to come in the first place. Was a petulant act of independence or the pleasure of Miranda’s company really worth it? It made far more sense for him to turn around and go back the way he had come.

Just as he was about to concede her point, a group of plants growing out of the unfortunate bicyclist’s resting place caught his eye. They were shy things, struggling up amid the otherwise neatly kept rows of graves. He wondered why the caretaker had let them be, they were so gangly. But their hairy leaves and sweet, purple flowers were reaching up to the sun, determined to live in spite of their deathly surroundings.

“Lamium maculatum,” he murmured, as though greeting an old friend. Pomona had some growing in the staff greenhouse, and it had been one of the keys to unlocking the anti-venom that had saved Arthur’s life.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Severus’s stomach had finally settled and, while his headache had not disappeared, it hadn’t grown any worse either. He took Miranda’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, taking his decision.

“{It seems a waste not to stay after I have spent so much time learning the language,}” he remarked.

The lines of tension around her lips softened into a real smile, and the light in her eyes came out from behind the clouds. Although he called himself a fool for thinking it, in that moment he felt that all of the uncertainty and discomfort was worth it if it pleased her so.

“{I agree. What would you like to see first?}”

******

Miranda stretched luxuriously and propped herself up on her elbow in order to study her sleeping companion more closely. It was unusual for her to wake before Severus and, when she did, she liked to take advantage of the opportunity to observe him without his practiced reserve in the way. In sleep, the marks of care and displeasure that marred his countenance were missing. She wouldn’t say that he looked exactly innocent, but he looked striking, and really rather handsome.

She didn’t have much time to admire him this morning, though. He didn’t know it yet, but they were due at Vasile Ursu’s within the hour, and it was time to wake him and break the news. Yesterday had been such a lark, between showing him the sights of Săpânța, and exploring the natural treasures of the Rodna mountains where she’d pitched her tent, that she hadn’t found the time to mention this other project. She laid a finger between his eyes and started tracing his nose lightly, suppressing a laugh when his nose started twitching. After a moment of this, his hand snapped up, catching hers in its grip.

“And what torture do you have planned for me this morning?” he rumbled without opening his eyes.

“Me torture you? I should be the one complaining. I think I was very indulgent to let you drag me around all afternoon and evening looking at weeds and wildflowers.”

“It was research.”

“You’re on vacation.”

“You said you wanted me to relax. Research is how I relax.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because I have a job for you.”

He opened one eye and arched an eyebrow at her. “Et tu, Brute? I had thought that you were the one person in the world who wanted to have me around simply for the pleasure of my company. Now I find you only wish to use me.”

“I like you for many reasons, Severus, and you know it. Besides, I thought it might amuse you to help a damsel in distress.”

He let out a bark of laughter and nipped her wrist. “You are the furthest thing from a damsel in distress that I’ve ever met, and I shudder to think what you might require my assistance to accomplish. I must insist on tea before I hear whatever your mad idea is.”

“{You are late, Doamnă Rose,}” Vasile said when she and Severus arrived on his doorstep an hour later. But he smiled fondly at her and kissed her cheeks. “{I was beginning to give up hope.}”

“{You should know that I’m usually late. It’s one of my many flaws, I’m afraid,}” Miranda replied, returning his embrace. “{And Severus wouldn’t go anywhere this morning until he’d had his tea. English, you know.}” Severus glowered at her and she grinned back at him. “{Vasile, this is Severus Snape, the Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Severus, Vasile Ursu, the Solomnar of Maramures.}”

The men shook hands briefly, sizing each other up like a pair of fighting occamys.

“{This way, if you please, best not to be loitering in doorways,}” Vasile said, leading them over the rock hewn staircase and into a narrow tunnel. The low ceiling was lit with incandescent stones at regular intervals, and their feet echoed as they descended into the cave.

“{You will have studied with Horace Slughorn, then?}” Vasile asked with the air of a professor examining his student.

“{Yes. And with Nadia Angouleme. I completed my masterwork under her.}”

“{Ah, Nadia.} ‘C'est un songe que d'y penser.’” Vasile’s voice was a dreamy sigh for an instant before he came back to the interrogation. “{Good. Then you know what you are doing. Nadia does not suffer fools. What was your master-potion?}”

“Suspension de l’incrédulité. {Its purpose was to enable the imbiber to master flying spells more easily.}”

“{And you were successful?}”

Miranda’s attention was riveted on Severus. He had never mentioned either this project, or flying spells to her before.

“{Yes,}” Severus answered. “{Although it was a primitive attempt. Too much mercury. Many…undesirable side effects.}”

“{Your most recent project?}”

“{An universal anti-venom.}”

The corridor came to a divide, one path leading downward and the other curving away in a gentle incline. Vasile led them on the upward path, which was brightly lit by a row of torches that ignited as they passed by. Portraits of witches and wizards with narrow, stylized faces snored gently on their shelves, although a few shook themselves awake long enough to observe the new-comers. One dangerous looking fellow even had the audacity to wink at Miranda, but they did not linger long enough for conversation.

“{How did you solve the mistletoe problem?}”

“{Tumeric added at each stage of preparation.}”

“{Nicely done.}”

A rush of fresh air blew past them as their path opened into a domed cavern, and Miranda was surprised to see sunlight streaming in through a skylight cut in the ceiling. She had not thought that they had climbed high enough in the cave to be this close to the surface, but the blue sky was clearly visible, and the breeze felt and smelled too real to be an enchantment. The skylight was placed above a circle of leather cushions and low chairs that were equipped with portable writing desks, parchment, quills, and bottles of ink. The enormous walls were fitted from bottom to top with bookshelves carved directly into the stone, and books of all shapes, sizes, and conditions were crammed in every available nook and cranny. Miranda was a little disappointed that they did not pause in this wonderful room, but passed through it to another chamber.

This chamber also sported high ceilings and skylights, although they were slits rather than true windows. Numerous floating candles flamed to life upon their entrance, reflecting off row upon row of neatly labeled jars, beakers, bowls, cauldrons, and other well-kept equipment. The supplies sat proudly on their fancifully carved wooden shelves, waiting like chessmen to be brought out to play. Across from this bounty was an L-shaped table, one half wood, and one stone; the perfect height for standing while working. Miranda was impressed that the floor near this workspace had a springy give to it, which must be a mercy one’s feet and legs during long hours of brewing.

“{Doamnă Rose has explained why you are here?}” Vasile asked, rolling up the sleeves of his embroidered peasant shirt.

“{Yes,}” Severus replied, quickly removing his frock coat. He hung it on a hook near the door and rolled up his own shirtsleeves, greedily eyeing the contents of the shelves all the while.

“{Then we’d best get started.}”

Vasile waved his hand and a fire started under one end of the stone table, while a small waterfall began flowing under the other side of it. Severus raised and eyebrow and curiously ran his hand along the top of the stone, studying the cauldron-shaped inserts that were carved at regular intervals.

“{One end is made for heating and the other for cooling,}” Vasile explained.

“{The stone must conduct the temperature immediately,}” Severus observed. “{But how do you prevent the cauldrons from cracking?}”

“{They are tempered first. I can show you how when we finish if you would like.}”

“{I would.}”

Jars and bottles began floating from their places and setting themselves expectantly on the wooden table.

“{Three chopping boards,}” Severus muttered as he studied the wooden table more closely.

“{Yes, wood for most things, marble for what must remain cold, salamander leather for what must stay hot,}” Vasile explained quickly as he fished ingredients out of jars and set them on the table. “{Three Rhodiola, two swift eggs, a seven inch piece of young horntail claw. Dice it, please.}”

Severus produced his favorite knife from some pocket and started dicing the claw into perfectly matched pieces as he ordered, “Miranda, take dictation.”

She had expected this, and had already made herself at home in a bearskin covered armchair that had appeared near the work tables. She pulled a large, leather-bound book from her bag and positioned it atop one of the portable writing desks. By the time she had her quills and ink bottles floating beside her, the men were on to the next step, but she wrote quickly in her clear, even hand, and soon she was apace with them. Her mother had insisted that all of the Rose children learn decent penmanship and Severus had once remarked that he preferred to read notes written in Miranda’s handwriting than his own. This admission had pleased her inordinately and, while she had no intention of becoming Severus’s private secretary, she did not mind taking notes for him from time to time.

Although Miranda did not care for making potions herself, she did enjoy watching Severus brew. He was in his element, and his movements were quick and sure. When he was fully engaged in his task, something wonderful happened to his face. It was focused and excited rather than censorious and worn. Sometimes, as he did now, he would tie back his hair, which made him appear younger than he did with it hanging in his face. She thought that it suited him, but she kept this opinion to herself. That black curtain of hair probably served as a convenient shield, hiding his thoughts from the world. And he had so much to hide.

By the end of the day, Miranda’s shoulders ached and her hand was cramped from all the writing. It had been difficult to translate the instructions from Romanian to English as quickly as Vasile spoke. There were several times that she’d had to explain some of Vasile’s colloquialisms to Severus, making all three of them impatient. When Vasile had finally proclaimed that they had completed enough work to be satisfactory, Miranda was more than happy to stretch her legs and explore the bookshelves in the larger cavern while the men tidied the potions room.

Vasile was a stern taskmaster, but he was also an excellent host. When the potions room had been put to bed for the night, he led his guests all the way down to his private quarters. These were nestled in the heart of the cave, cool and quiet. They were well furnished with comfortable chairs, amusing books and games, and ample light for reading. A hearty dinner of sarmale and minciunele was waiting for them, laid out by unseen hands, and Vasile entertained them with more of the fanciful folktales that Miranda found so fascinating. After dinner, the three of them played several rounds of tablă, which Vasile won handily, but he also soothed the blow with an excellent bottle of mastícă.

Severus and Vasile soon dominated the conversation, exchanging stories of nightmare students and commiserating about the difficulties of teaching. It was amusing to listen to them, particularly since Severus could be quite verbose when he wanted to be. At some point, he absently reached over to massage the aches out of her writing hand, and then flicked her hand with some practiced maneuver, which immediately cured the pains in her wrist that had been caused by the day’s work. The pine-scented liqueur and the warmth from the fire encouraged a pleasant sense of well-being that spread through Miranda’s body, and she settled herself cozily in her chair to enjoy the company. Eventually she felt her eyes growing heavy, and she did not realize she had fallen asleep until Severus’s hand on her shoulder startled her awake.

“{My apologies, Doamnă Rose,}” Vasile was saying. “{I should have noted the hour. I will need you again tomorrow, but I believe we will be able to finish our task then.}”

“Are you able to walk, or will I be forced to carry you?” Severus asked in English, a teasing gleam flickering in the depths of his dark eyes.

“Is that an offer?” Miranda replied.

“I suppose. But I will throw you over my shoulder and I doubt you will enjoy it.”

“Promises, promises.” She let him pull her to her feet and gave Vasile a parting embrace. “{Goodnight, Domnul Ursu. We’ll be back in the morning.}”

When the pair of them were out of the cave and walking through the cool, spring night, Miranda turned to Severus and asked, “So, about that flying potion. Did you ever get it to work?”

He smiled mysteriously at her and replied, “Yes and no. Perhaps I might be convinced to show it to you someday.”

“I’m sure I can make it worth your while. I know you’d like to learn how to do some of the smoke magic.”

“That is true. I should think that we will be able to come to an arrangement to our mutual satisfaction.”

*****

On Thursday evening Severus sat in a transfigured armchair in Miranda’s tent, perusing the notes for the Changeover Potion, and feeling mentally and physically sated in a way that he rarely achieved. This potion was a welcome challenge, and the time working with Domnul Ursu had stretched Severus’s mind, giving him a plethora of ideas for his own projects and for his workspaces at Hogwarts. Miranda sat tailor-style on the bed, weaving a length of unicorn hair into a fine net, and it was a pleasure to watch her graceful movements as she worked. A disobedient voice in the back of Severus’s mind was whispering that, if he liked, there was no reason for him to return to Hogwarts the next day. He could stay here in this tent with Miranda, like Merlin in Nimue’s cave. Since he knew that he wouldn’t stay, he felt free to indulge in this fantasy, and the idea of staying with Miranda, either in Romania or in Britain, grew more appealing to him with each passing day.

“Aren’t you glad you came?” Miranda asked smugly as she looped and knotted her net.

“I suppose it would be a lie to say otherwise,” he replied.

“And nothing bad even happened.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that yet. There are a few hours left before I return home, after all. Around you that is enough time for the world to end. Chaos follows ever on your heels.”

“I think that you need a little chaos.” She bent her head over a complicated part of her weaving and added, “If you come back in the summer, we can go to Bucharest and see an opera.”

Several sarcastic quips automatically leapt to Severus’s mind at this suggestion, but he took an effort to refrain from letting them out of his mouth. He ran his fingers over the beautiful lines of potion notes that Miranda had taken for him, admiring their form.

After a moment, he glanced up from the book and said honestly, “I should like that very much.”

There had not been many occasions in Severus’s life where another person had looked at him with such delight as Miranda did now, and he felt his ears heat up with embarrassment at the sentimental emotion that was growing in his chest. He cleared his throat awkwardly and added, “That is, assuming that you do not manage to get yourself killed on these ridiculous quests.”

She laughed lightly and went back to her net. “Oh, it’s just bird catching and flower picking. How hard is that?”

“As I recall, dragon riding is part of the second task.”

“It is, but I’m getting much better at it. By the time June gets here, I’ll be an expert.”

“I still do not understand why this ordeal is being dragged out for so long. Why on earth can’t you retrieve the children now?”

“They aren’t in any immediate danger. And we can’t even get to them until the veil between the worlds is thin enough. That won’t be until October.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I’m not surprised, but that’s how it is.” She smiled slyly at him and turned the subject. “When you see him tomorrow, tell Malfoy that I miss him.”

“I think I shall not mention that to him, if it is all the same to you. When will you be coming back in May?”

“Whenever Rachel’s baby comes. I’m godmother, remember?”

“I remember. I’m surprised you were able to convince Lucius to wait for that.”

“Aaron was the one who convinced him. Actually, I think Aaron convinced Narcissa, who took care of Lucius. I guess she is understanding after all. I assume that the answer is no, but do you want to come to the baptism? There’ll be a little party at the Lees’ afterwards.”

“It is entirely possible that I will be struck by lightening if I set foot inside of a church, but I suppose it is a risk that I would be willing to take.”

“I understand, of course you wouldn’t want to… Wait a minute, did you just agree to come?”

Her head snapped up and Severus chuckled softly at the shocked expression on her face. He so rarely managed to catch Miranda off guard, and he treasured the moments when it happened.

“I am aware that being a godparent is an important honor. And I do find your friends tolerable, surprising as that may seem,” he chided.

She opened and closed her mouth more than once, and that charming blush bloomed on her cheeks. “I should tell you that Arthur and Molly Weasley are going to be there too. Arthur is acting as proxy godfather because Aaron’s brother can’t make it over from the States. I know we’re trying to keep things quiet, so I understand if that changes your mind.”

“That does complicate things slightly.”

“I may have mentioned to Arthur that we were seeing each other, though.”

“Did you?”

“It just popped out, he’s so friendly. But he seemed to understand that it was important to keep it under his hat.”

Severus frowned, mulling this over in his mind. In some ways, he would prefer the world to know that he was capable of holding the interest of a woman like Miranda, and his irritation over her carelessness was tempered by his excellent mood.

“Arthur does know how to keep his mouth shut,” he admitted. “Perhaps better than certain persons in this tent. I will think about it.”

“Speaking of secrets, you’re not supposed to know what I’m doing here. So if Albus, or anyone else asks, I never told you anything.”

“If Albus or anyone else asks, I was never here.”

She set down the net and flexed her fingers, grimacing as though they hurt, and he set the book of notes aside in order to take her hands in his.

“If I can tell that your hands are cold, they must be frozen solid,” he remarked, bringing her chilled fingers to his lips.

Somehow this gesture led to her sitting on his lap, running her hands through his hair. Their kisses were lazy, and while he hadn’t thought he had the energy for another round of that sort of recreation this evening, her delicious sighs were convincing him that he might be persuaded otherwise.

She had just started toying with the buttons on his shirt when she stiffened in his arms and jerked her head away from his, listening intently.

“What is it?” he asked, and she laid a finger over his lips.

With a snap, all of the lights in the tent went out and she tapped on his cheek with her finger:

THERE IS SOMETHING OUTSIDE PUT YOUR SHOES ON

She slid off his lap and he pulled on his shoes while she quickly laced on her boots. He retrieved his wand from the table while she crept to the door, peering out of the glass for and endless string of moments. When she was satisfied, she padded back to him and tapped on his hand:

PRICOLICI 5 OF THEM

He tapped back:

WHAT ARE THOSE

She explained:

PART VAMPIRE PART WEREWOLF PART ZOMBIE THINGS

Merlin, could nothing be simple in this place? He tapped quickly:

HOW CAN THEY SEE YOUR TENT

She replied:

THEY CAN SEE THROUGH ENCHANTMENT THEY ONLY BOTHER YOU IF THEY ARE SENT AFTER YOU

He asked:

WHO SENT THEM

She rolled her eyes and tapped:

WORRY ABOUT THAT LATER FIRST WE HAVE TO KILL THEM

He gave her a disgruntled look and asked:

HOW DO WE DO THAT

Miranda patted his shoulder and went to the trunk at the foot of the bed. After a bit of rummaging, she pulled out a double-headed ax, along with two vials of Strengthening Solution. She tossed one of the vials to Severus, and when they had both drunk, she returned to him and tapped on his cheek:

YOU CAN KILL MOST ANYTHING BY CHOPPING OFF ITS HEAD YOU SET THEM UP AND I WILL KNOCK THEM DOWN ON THREE

By now, his eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness, and he moved towards the door, wand at the ready. He shook his head silently, musing that he had been quite correct—chaos did follow ever on Miranda’s heels. Her hand was on his shoulder, and before he could wonder overlong about whether she, the Dark Lord, or Albus was most likely to be the death of him, she was tapping out:

ONE…TWO…THREE

The door flew open and Severus surged through it into the moonlit clearing. After the dark of the tent, the moonlight was more than sufficient to reveal the hulking figures of two werewolf-like monsters. The beasts froze for an instant, as though startled by the humans’ attack.

Without hesitation, Severus flicked his wand and hissed, “Sectumsempra,” casting rapidly at each of the creatures in turn. They reeled backwards as the curse hit them, wounds exploding and sending bits of pus and fur-covered flesh in all directions.

“Left!” Miranda shouted, and Severus whirled to cast at another charging monster.

His curse hit the mark again and he instinctively ducked, knowing without words that Miranda would come vaulting over him to cleave off the head of the third creature. He allowed himself an instant to admire her form, before shifting to one knee and casting at the fourth attacker. This pricolici had managed to advance closer than the others, and Severus bombarded it with slash after slash of his signature curse, until Miranda appeared beside him, and used his leg as a stair-step. He seamlessly gave her his free hand, helping her up like a dancer, and she neatly decapitated the monster before swinging behind Severus’s back and onto the ground.

This last move had perhaps been unnecessarily showy, as it had given the final pricolici ample time to charge. It caught Miranda up in its hairy arms and threw her like a rag doll across the clearing. Severus cast viciously at the attacker, but his eyes kept involuntarily searching for Miranda, and he found himself knocked to the ground. With a muttered expletive, he blindly cast a bombarding curse and scrambled to his feet, but an instant later the pricolici caught him from behind in a death grip. Severus cast again, and the pair of them were thrown across the clearing, rolling until they came to a halt with Severus on the bottom. With great effort, and the aid of the Stregnthing Solution, he managed to turn himself in the beast’s deadly embrace in order to see where he was casting. He conjured a rope that wrapped itself around the toothy snout, but the enraged beast snapped through the bonds easily. This he followed with another round of Sectumsempra, and pus and flesh poured over him from his victim. The pricolici whimpered like a kicked dog for a moment, but the whimper became a growl, and its snapping jaws descended to rip out Severus’s throat.

Severus gritted his teeth and cast a final curse, fighting the urge to close his eyes against his own impending doom. But when a wet flood of something hit his eyes, he could not resist closing them. The beast collapsed on top of him, and he accepted with finality that Miranda was going to be the death of him after all.

The teeth on his throat never came though and, after a time, he noticed that the clearing was still except for the sound of Miranda’s bell-like laugh. His face was still wet, and when he opened his eyes he discovered that he was pinned beneath the now headless pricolici. Miranda was disentangling him from it the best that she could, hampered by her high spirits and her laughter. Her soiled ax was sitting on the ground next to them, resting from its labors.

When she finally had him free of the corpse, he sat up and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the gore off of his face. She offered him a hand to pull him to his feet, and he rose, recalling their first meeting. Her eyes were astonishingly bright in the moonlight, and he wondered if they had been so that first night, hidden in the shadows of that fatal alley.

“Well done!” she said, her voice ecstatic. “Only next time, don’t get so distracted by what I’m doing. That last one wouldn’t have caught you if you hadn’t been worrying about me.”

“Why am I not surprised that you would criticize me for my chivalrous impulses?”

“Chivalry has no place in a battle. I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I am well aware of your competence. It is one of your most attractive qualities.”

This seemed to please her so much, that she caught his hands and started waltzing around the battleground with him. And he was so giddy from the rush of the fight and the victory, that he went along with her, grinning like a fool. The contours of her face and her body were clearer than he’d ever seen them, and the moonlight bathed the world in brilliant blues and silvers and purples. While they danced, he became aware of the smell of hyacinths, and the perfume was so strong that he marveled that he hadn’t noticed it before. Every nerve of his skin was hyperaware of the tiniest sensation.

“I think that you could swing dance if you wanted to,” Miranda teased.

“Of course I could. It is not a question of ability, it is a question of decorum.”

“Oh, that English decorum.”

She pouted prettily, and her lips drew him in like a magnet. He spun her to him, as he had in front of Shoreditch Church the summer before, and kissed her now as eagerly as he had then. She tasted of elf-made wine and honey, and he felt more delightfully intoxicated than mere alcohol had ever helped him achieve. The perfume of the hyacinths was overtaken by her scent, lavender and sweat from the exertions of the battle. She tugged open the collar of his shirt, and seared his cheek with a line of burning kisses. When she reached his neck, she bit him playfully, laughing against his skin when he growled at her. He ran his hands along the curve of her waist, and then scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder the way he had threatened to do the other evening.

“What happened to your precious decorum?” she yelped in surprise.

“Decorum is doing the proper thing at the proper time, and this is the proper way to carry barbarians to bed,” he replied, heading for the tent.

“Says who?”

“Says your English lover. Do you mean to complain about it?”

“No,” she purred. “No, I don’t think I will.”

They did decide to transfigure one of the chairs into a bath before retiring to bed, but removing pricolici gore turned out to be a much more entertaining chore than it had any right to be.

******

“Severus, are you listening to me?” Lucius demanded on Friday evening, breaking off his long-winded tale to glare at his companion. Severus had joined the Malfoy family for dinner, and the two men were sitting alone in the library so that Lucius could talk about himself.

“Hmmm?” Severus replied, swirling his glass of firewhiskey. “Of course I am. You just said that Cornelius Fudge is the stupidest Minister we’ve ever had.”

“Well, yes, to say the least.” He shot Severus one more suspicious glance, but went on with his pompous story of his own cleverness.

In point of fact, Severus had long since perfected the art of listening with one ear while thinking of something else entirely. Usually this skill was put to use in his meetings with the Dark Lord, enabling him to keep hidden what needed to be hidden while gleaning information and constantly evaluating what his next move should be. At the current moment, he was employing his skill much more agreeably, reliving his Romanian Holiday and dwelling on his magnificent Barbarian. He was somewhat troubled that a band of undead monsters had presumably been sent by her rivals to kill her, but she had promised to speak to Weasley and Albus about the matter. And he had to admit that she could, most certainly, take care of herself.

“And now, about your little tart, Miranda,” Lucius said, finally capturing Severus’s full attention.

A chill of warning crept up Severus’s spine, but he schooled his features and kept his tone indifferent as he asked, “What about her?”

“It is unfortunate that I’ve had to send your little playmate abroad, but I think it would be for the best that you don’t become particularly attached to her. She is quickly becoming more trouble than she is worth.”

“Dallying with a woman does not indicate that a man wishes to spend the rest of his life with her. I’m sure you are well aware of that.”

“I’m relieved to hear you say that. I’d hate to think that your mind had been addled by the mud-blood upstart.”

“It would take much more than that to addle my mind,” Severus remarked, covering the tension in his jaw by finishing his firewhiskey.

“Then let us be frank. There is no possible way that Sirius Black is in Romania. I know it, The Dark Lord knows it, and I strongly suspect that you know it, even if your tangled mess of allegiances prevents you from saying so.”

Severus arched an eyebrow and his stomach twisted. “What makes you think that?”

“That is for me to know and you to wonder about,” Lucius said condescendingly. “How long has Miranda been working for Dumbledore?”

“I was not aware that she was. You do understand that I do not spend time with her in order to discuss her work.”

“Very good, I suspected as much.” Lucius refilled both their glasses. “Then she is not in the Order?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“But she is cooperating with them. She’s been working with that Weasley brat at the Dragon Sanctuary in Romania, and she’s involved with some scheme there.”

“Is she?”

Lucius’s eyes were shrewd and calculating as he studied the younger man. “Do you really have no idea what she is up to?”

“I’m afraid not.”

There was a long moment of silence while the men stared each other down. Severus knew that Lucius was no legilimens, but he kept his mind on teaching and the Dark Lord to be safe. He also did not dare risk invading Lucius’s mind, although he dearly wished to do so. What a relief it would be to know what the other man was hiding, but Lucius would notice if Severus attempted a mental search. If Severus wished to keep Miranda, he needed Lucius and the Dark Lord to think that she meant nothing to him. And he found it surprising how much it had come to matter to him that he keep her.

At last Lucius said, “If you have the opportunity, it would behoove you to pry what you can out of her as far as her association with Dumbledore and the rest of those fools goes. The Dark Lord is suspicious of you, as I’m sure you’re well aware. I’ve known you for a long time, Severus, and I respect you. I would like to bring you along with me as I ascend, but I will not let you drag me down. Even for the sake of old times.”

“I understand.”

“To the Dark Lord,” Lucius said, raising his glass.

“To the Dark Lord.”

Severus lifted his glass in time with Lucius and drained it dry. The burn of the alcohol did nothing to warm him, and the dregs sat ashen and bitter on his tongue.

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

End Notes:

C'est un songe que d'y penser: It is a dream even to think of her. This is a quote from Charles, duc d’Orléans’ (1394-1465) poem “Dieu! qu'il la fait bon regarder” or “God, what a vision she is.”

Suspension de l’incrédulité: Suspension of disbelief. Many thanks to Chiara for helping me research! This phrase was coined by the English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834). I promise there will be more about this potion later.

Sarmale are sour cabbage rolls stuffed with various fillings. Minciunele is a dessert of friend pastry. Its name means “little lies” in Romanian.

Tablă is something like backgammon. Mastícă is a liqueur made with a resin from the mastic tree, giving it a piney flavor.

Pricolici are monsters from Romanian folklore—because werewolves, vampires, and zombies aren’t scary enough by themselves.

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

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Seventeen+

Chapter Nineteen+ >>

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #severus snape #snape #snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfic #severus snape fanfiction #snape x oc #oc appreciation #ilvermorny #second wizarding war #espionage #spying #adventure #romance

6 notes · View notes

jewish-privilege · 5 years

Link

I never thought about the etymology of the verb "gypped" until the end of college, when my friend, lamenting his stolen iPod, said the word and immediately retracted it. "Isn't that offensive?" he wondered. Until that moment, I had never thought about it either. What sparked our unease was the sudden realization that "gypped" was somehow tied to "gypsy."

"Gypsy" is commonly used to describe the Romani people. But the term carries many negative connotations, and its derivative carries even more: when somebody is "gypped," they are, according to Merriam-Webster, "defrauded, swindled, cheated."

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the first known recorded definition of the term "gypped" dates back to the 1899 Century Dictionary, which says that it is "probably an abbreviation of gypsy, gipsy, as applied to a sly unscrupulous fellow."

It also appears in 1914, in Louis Jackson & C. R. Hellyer's Vocabulary of Criminal Slang. The noun "gyp" was described at the time as "current in polite circles," and "derived from the popular experience with thieving Gypsies." As a verb, the term is defined as "to flim-flam" and to "cheat by means of guile and manual dexterity." Proper usage? "Gyp this boob with a deuce." I'm not exactly sure what gyp this boob with a deuce means, but it sounds like something stuck between ribald and ridiculous.

F. Scott Fitzgerald used the word in his iconic novel The Great Gatsby: "We had over twelve hundred dollars when we started, but we got gyped out of it all in two days." Simone de Beauvoir used the word in her 1965 book Force of Circumstance: "Turning an incredulous gaze toward that young and credulous girl, I realize with stupor how much I was gypped."

Many people have limited knowledge of the term's origins, and so the word "gypped" isn't quickly going out of fashion. On April 30, 2013, a publisher released a book in a New York Times bestselling series by Carol Higgins Clark titled Gypped: A Regan Reilly Mystery. The book — the 15th installment of the long-running thriller series — had nothing to do with the Roma people, but instead is a murder mystery full of financial scams and intrigue set in sunny California.

After multiple allegations of racist intent with her choice of title, Clark issued a statement that read: "I am truly sorry for any offense caused by using the word 'Gypped' as the title of my book. It was a familiar word since childhood which no one I knew associated with its origin. Since this issue arose, I've asked many people who also had no idea of any negative connotation."

Clark's experience rings true: many people just don't know what the word means, or where it comes from.

"I encounter a lot of people who tell me that they never knew the word 'gypped' had anything to do with gypsies, or that it's offensive — especially when the word is heard not read," says University of Texas at Austin professor Ian Hancock, who was born in Britain to Romani parents. "My response to them is, That's okay. You didn't know but now you do. So stop using it. It may mean nothing to you, but when we hear it, it still hurts."

Hancock tells me the word "gypsy" itself is an "exonym" — a term imposed upon an ethnic group by outsiders. When the Roma people moved westward from India towards the European continent, they were mistaken to be Egyptian because of their features and dark skin. We see the same phenomenon across several languages, not only English. Victor Hugo, in his epic Hunchback of Notre Dame, noted that the Medieval French term for the Roma was egyptiens. In Spanish, the word for gypsy is "gitano," which comes from the word egipcio, meaning Egyptian — in Romanian: tigan, in Bulgarian: tsiganin, in Turkish: cingene — all of which are variations of slang words for "Egyptian" in those languages.

The Roma people originated thousands of years ago not in Egypt, but in Northern India. They were displaced during a series of 11th-century Muslim invasions during the Ghaznavid Empire. Many were taken as prisoners of war back to what is now modern-day Turkey, during the Ottoman plunder of the Byzantine Empire. A majority of already-displaced Romani people later migrated to Eastern and Southern Europe. The Roma language is derived from ancient Sanskrit and still phonetically, grammatically and linguistically resembles tongues with Sanskrit roots like Hindi or Rajasthani. Romani music is still strikingly similar to Indian folk music, and their spiritual practices — despite conversion to local religions over time — still resemble aspects of Hindu cosmology.

The effort to substitute the word "Roma" for the far better-known term "Gypsy" may strike some as futile, but few other groups carry the burden of such heavy stereotypes with so little reprieve.

Earlier this year, Romani faced several high-profile accusations of child kidnapping. In October, Code Switch colleague Gene Demby wrote:

"In one case, the police received a tip that a blond, blue-eyed girl was living with a Roma family in a Dublin suburb. The tipster believed that the 7-year-old didn't look like the Roma family with whom she lived. The police came and removed the child from the home, despite protests from the Roma family that the child was part of their family."...

#anti rromani racism #g slur #slurs #uncensored slurs

528 notes · View notes

melodiouswhite · 4 years

Text

Classic literature vine compilations - Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde pt. 05

(A/N: Another compilation, because there are too many single vines and incorrect quotes)

Lady Summers: How many times do I have to tell you not to wear the red dress, when we go to a party? Alma: Come on, this is my best and favourite dress! What do you have against it? Lady Summers: If you want to walk around like this in Whitechapel, fine. But we're going to a court ball! You can't dress in red! Hyde: Awww, why not? It looks so gorgeous on her! Jekyll: Only fallen women wear red. Hyde: So? She's not one and still looks like a goddess in red. Alma: Damn right! Thank you, Mr. Hyde! Also, sister dearest, did I mention that this Romanian Baron Cleranescu will be there? Lady Summers: … Lady Summers: Never mind, dress like a vile temptress. Alma: *smirks* Gladly! Hyde: *grins* This is going to be fun! Utterson, Lanyon and Jekyll: … Lanyon: I have a sense of foreboding … Utterson: Me too. Jekyll: I bet fifty Pound Sterling, that this evening will be a disaster. Hyde: *smirks* I'll take that bet!

Jekyll, after Lanyon left him: My boyfriend of 15 years broke up with me. Utterson: That's rough, buddy. Utterson on the inside: Perhaps now I have a chance …

Poole: Bradshaw, we need to hide all the wine bottles. Bradshaw: Another domestic with Dr. Lanyon? Poole: No, a full on fight. Bradshaw: On a scale from one to ten, how bad was it? Poole: An eleven. Dr. Lanyon broke up with him. Bradshaw: Oh crap. Poole: Yeah. And knowing our master, he will drink himself into a stupor for several days and nights, before burying himself in his work. Bradshaw: Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go hide the bottles.

Simon Stride: Lisa Carew, can this be you Simon Stride: What is this man that you have taken- Lisa Carew: Simon, shut up and listen here- Lisa Carew: You think you're cool, but you're mistaken.

Utterson: I'm the calmest person in the group. Hyde: Some twats hurt Lanyon. Utterson: … Utterson: Mr. Hyde, would you do me a favour? Hyde: Fine, because it's you. Utterson: Kill them all. Hyde: *smirks predatorily* Gladly.

Lady Summers: Alma, you need to come out, we're going to be late! Alma: I'm a lesbian! Lady Summers: Not what I meant, but I support you!

Some rando: *pointing at Hyde* Lol, look at that kid! He has women's hips! A prostitute: Are you suicidal? *quickly backs away* Hyde: *slowly turning around* What did you just say about me?! Hyde: *grabs the guy's ankle and flings him around like a ragdoll*

Lanyon: Who's in our bathroom? Utterson: I hired a drunk gremlin to compliment us. Hyde, to Lanyon: Are you a model? Lanyon: … Yes.

Lanyon: Why do we even need coming out day? I mean, everyone's a little gay- Jekyll, with Utterson in his arms: Well, I'm a big gay and today I'm coming out as the world's biggest gay!

Lady Summers, to the gentlemen and her siblings: Hey, everybody! Today my second cousin Wilhelm pushed me, so I'm starting a kickstarter to put him down. Lady Summers: *opens a chart* Benefits of killing him would be I would get pushed way less.

Lanyon, after breaking up with Jekyll: Gha! I still can't believe he did that! Lanyon: But then again, what did I expect. When was the last time he actually treated me like his boyfriend. Lady Summers: Precisely five months and seven days ago, when he surprisingly remembered your anniversary. Lanyon: *sighs* Why did I date him? Lady Summers: Because he dabbed it up with you. Lanyon: Why did I let that happen? Lady Summers: Because he got you both full up the knocker. And because you were wild young men in love. Lanyon: Why am I even discussing this with you right now? Lady Summers: *shrugs* Beats me.

Utterson: I think I see now how it happened. Utterson: Last evening at dinner, when the baron saw Her Ladyship give her rose to Dr. Lanyon, he was furious. He dropped a steak knife into his purse- Hyde: Big deal, I took a whole plate set! Utterson: NOT NOW, EDWARD!!!

Alma: Listen, you punk! You wanna fight with someone, you're gonna have to fight with me! But I warn you: I did time in Newgate. Some prisoner: Newgate's a men's prison. Alma: I know, it took my sister bailing me out a month later for them to find out. Hyde: … This was amazing! However did you pull that off?! Alma: I live and work in Whitechapel, it's not that different.

Jekyll: And that girl's father still wouldn't leave me alone! What is that with all these people thinking that a bachelor would be eager to get married at the age of fifty?! Hyde: Gee, I dunno. Maybe it's because you're rich and good-looking and a doctor? Or because of everyone is expected to marry? Then lead a dead boring marriage with a dead boring woman, while pretending that everything is sunshine and rainbows? Oh, and as the frosting on the cake, make a bunch of screaming, annoying brats? Jekyll: *chuckles* I don't need a wife to have all that. Hyde: *ignoring the last jab like a boss* What about the girl? Was she at least funny? Jekyll: She was cute and nice to talk to, but she was clearly not on board with her father's intention to make her marry me. Besides, she was seventeen! If I ever got around to marry (which will never happen), it would have to be someone closer to my age. Hyde: *winks* Like your lawyer? Jekyll: *blushes* That … that's illegal … Hyde: *smirks* But you would, if you could, right? Jekyll: … If he wanted me.

Jekyll: Babe, do the thing! Utterson: *genuinely smiles* Both Jekyll & Hyde: *breathless* Holy shit …

Hyde: I don't do other emotions besides anger and excitement. Utterson: *exists* Hyde: *blushes* Oh no, he's making me feel other emotions!

Jekyll, holding a human heart in his hand: Edward … what is this?! Hyde: A heart, obviously! I thought you're a doctor, you ought to know what a human heart looks like! Jekyll: I do, but why is it in my office?! Where did you get it from and-? Hyde: Well, today is Valentine's Day, right? I wanted to give you something special and since I couldn't cut my own heart out, I took the one of the guy who humiliated you last week. Jekyll: … Jekyll, trying his best to hide his disgust: Uhm … thank you, Edward. You shouldn't have … but flowers or a box of chocolates would have done it too.

Alma, on the telephone: Y'ello? Lady Summers: What did you do. Alma: Alright, but you can't be angry at me. Lady Summers: What. Did you. Do?! Alma: Well, first: I was minding my own business- Lady Summers: SCHWACHSINN!!! Alma: I waaaaas! Lady Summers: And what exactly happened, while you were "minding your own business"?! Alma: Well, I was on my nightly walk through Whitechapel, doing a class, when suddenly these scumbags blocked my path! Alma: And one of them said: "LIE ON YOUR BACK!" And I responded with: "I'm not your wife last night!" And they took exception to that. Buuut, you know how that song and dance goes. Alma: So I castrated all but one of them! Lady Summers: What happened to the last one? Alma: Pussed out like a bitch! Silver lining: They will never pass on their disgusting rapist genes!

Utterson, to Jekyll: So, Lady Summers told me that Hyde can take a corporeal for to a certain degree, when you're in control. Jekyll: Yes, but it only works in my lab. Why? Utterson: Where did you get that hickey on your neck? Jekyll: *blushes* Wh-wha-I-uh-I, uuhhhh- *Jekyll suddenly turns into Hyde* Hyde: *grins* Oh yeah. I totally did that. Utterson: *blushes* So … uhm … did you two … you know … Lanyon: Did you fuck each other? Utterson: Lanyon! Hyde: Nah, but we would, if we could! Utterson: … Lanyon: Whelp, there goes my mind- hey, are you okay, Gabriel? Utterson: *on the verge of tears* Oh my god, why, oh the pictures in my head, I'll never-

Jekyll & Hyde: *yelling at each other like a dysfunctional couple having a domestic* Utterson, Lanyon & Lady Summers: *watching* … Utterson: I'm slowly losing my will to live. Lady Summers: I'm slowly losing my mind over their idiocy. Lanyon: I already lost both. -_-

Lanyon: *singing* When I think about my worries and I think about my strife, here is what I simply say- Lanyon: AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Hyde: uwu uwu uwu uwu uwu … Jekyll, slowly losing his last shred of sanity: You know, I'm this close to killing myself just to spite you. Hyde: *falls silent immediately*

Jekyll, about Utterson: Sir, that's my emotional support lawyer. Utterson, about Jekyll: Sir, that's my emotional support mad scientist.

Lady Summers: Your most exalted Majesty, I would like you to meet my emotional support physician. *points at Lanyon* Lanyon: *blushes like no tomorrow* Queen Victoria: Awww! Congratulations, dear! He's not the most handsome fellow, but he's definitely a keeper! ^_^ Lady Summers: I know. <3

Hyde: It’s time for your daily dosis of pain! Jekyll: Oh no, please don’t! Hyde: *injects him a liquid* Jekyll: *whimpering* Ow.

Jekyll: Where were you when my entry got only four likes?! Lanyon: I was making four accounts, bro. Jekyll: Bro!

Henry, about Edwina Hyde: Sir, that's my emotional support delinquent. Edwina: Huh? *oblivious and confused as heck* Gabriel: *concern for husband and new friend intensifies*

Utterson: Do you want more tea, Edward? Hyde: Nah, thanks, I'm good. Utterson: Anything else? Hyde: Well, now that you mention it, there is one thing … Hyde: *points to a nearby bush* Could you tell Dr. Lanyon to stop stalking us?! He’s starting to annoy me! Lanyon: *pops out of the bush, armed with a rifle* Ohhh! You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Hyde?!

Lady Summers: The only thing we have to fear is fear itself. And rats. Those little bastards will getcha.

Utterson: I have a problem! Lanyon: Throw the ring into the fire. Utterson: I don't have a ring! I have Hyde! Lanyon: Then throw the Hyde into the fire. Utterson: But I can't throw Hyde into the fire! Lanyon: *shrugs* Well, then you have a problem. Utterson: … Thank you.

Hyde: *looking at Sir Carew from afar* Hyde: How about I beat that old geezer to death? Lady Summers: *unsheathes her sword* How about you don't?

Hyde: My evil knows no bounds! Also Hyde: *witnesses child molestation* EW, WHAT THE FUCK, THIS IS TOO MUCH!!!

Lanyon: I'm pleasantly surprised. Hyde: Huh? Why? Lanyon: So you do have standards after all. Hyde: o_e Hyde: You're referring to my reaction to that pedo bullshit, aren't you? Lanyon: Yes. Hyde: … Hyde: Dr. Lanyon, do you realise that by suspecting me of pedophilia, you would accuse Jekyll as well? Lanyon: *thinking* Holy shit, I didn't think of that! Hyde: Think next time, before you jump to conclusions. You're lucky Jekyll holds you so dear. Lanyon: Mr. Hyde, I'm so sorry! Hyde: *frowns* Yeah, you better be.

Lanyon: Milady, I would die for you. Lady Summers: … Lady Summers: Listen, I know that this is supposed to be romantic and all, but please don't die for me. How am I supposed to live without my doctor? Lanyon: *speechless*

Hyde: Wait, how many lovers could an asexual doctor possibly have had? Two? Three? Lanyon: Well, it depends, what is your definition of a lover? Hyde: *grins* Any person you bring to a fevered pitch of uncontrollable ecstasy! Utterson: *stares at him* Lanyon: Oh! Fifty-six. Utterson and Hyde: *stare at Lanyon* Hyde: *lowers his tea cup* … Excuse me? Lanyon: I had about fifty-six lovers. Of course that was before I began to seriously date Henry. I probably would have had more, but I wasn't allowed to start dating till I was sixteen. Hyde: Fifty-six? Fifty-six?! Utterson: Oh god, stand back! He's gonna blow! Hyde: What do you mean, you had fifty-six lovers?! You told Henry you were a virgin, when you hooked up with him! Lanyon: Hey, you can have a lover without having to go all the way! Hyde: You cannot! If that were true, Hastie, that would mean you were a slut! Utterson: Oh come on, Edward, how can you say that? So the man had fifty-six lovers in one year, he's not a slut. Lanyon: Thank you, Gabriel- Utterson: He's THE slut! Lanyon and Hyde: *stare at him* Utterson: He's the grand Poobah of slutdom! He's the easiest man in this room! Hyde: Gabriel John Utterson, you take that back! Utterson: The slut is dead, long live the slut! *points at Lanyon*

#The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #Dr. Jekyll #henry jekyll #Mr. Hyde #edward hyde #Mr Utterson #Gabriel John Utterson #utterson #dr lanyon #Hastie Lanyon #oc #vines #incorrect quotes

10 notes · View notes

necrokittytales · 6 years

Text

Necrokitty Tales: Trouble in Inkwell Isle (Chapter 13)

Authors’ note: Remember, Necrida’s writing will be in italics and SPKC’s writing with be regular font.If you have no idea what this roleplaying thing is, you can start from the beginning here.

——

Cagney led Isabella away from the Root Pack. “Psy has a habit of talking anyone’s ears off. Makes you wish you were deaf instead of blind.”

Isabella chuckled “No kidding! I mean, he seems nice and all… but… wow!” She remained close to Cagney.

The carnation eyed the stand coming up. “Looks like we’re coming up on Porkrind’s stand. He’s an…interesting character. If you need it he’s probably got it. Wanna stop by?” “A guy who can get whatever I need? Yeah! I would like to meet him.” She smiled. “Great, he’s just up ahead.” The two walked until they reached the stand. Cagney approached to see Porkrind…and a shotgun on the counter. The carnation blinked. That, uh, wasn’t normal. He cleared his throat. “Hey, Porkrind, how’s things going?” “Going alright.” “Cool…cool. Can’t help but notice you have a gun “ “Always had a gun.” “True, but not on the counter.” “Got robbed a couple days ago by some cat ferret thing,” Porkrind gruffly explained, pointing to a crude drawing of a stick figure with ears. Cagney felt himself tense up. “Really? Any chance you recognized them?” “If I had recognized them, then they would already be dealt with it.” “Fair enough.” Cagney gestured toward Isabella. “Uh, this is Isabella, she recently moved here actually. Showing her around is all.” Porkrind grunted. “Pleasure to meet ya, miss. If you’re looking for something, I can probably get it for you. Within reason, of course.” Isabella listened carefully and noted to herself not to get on the bad side of this guy. “Nice meeting you, Mr… Porkrind? Was it? Em.. this cat ferret thing… did you noticed if it had wings, by any chance?” She was wondering if something in the store got Mina’s attention and her annoying feline curiosity might have made her steal it.

Porkrind gave her a cursory glance before shaking his head and saying, “No, I didn’t see any wings on it, ma'am. It ain’t a friend of yours, is it?”

“If it doesn’t have wings I have no idea who you’re talking about, darling.” She recovered her confidence. “But I’ll keep my ears alert.” She cutely wiggled her long ears. At that moment, a salamander enter the shop. “Good morning Mr.Porkr-oh!” He blushed a little when he saw Isabella. “Hello again, sweetheart!” He looked at Cagney getting a bit nervous “And hello Mr.Car- I mean, Cagney!” He remember he didn’t liked being called Mr.Carnation. “Seems you got a busy day today, Mr.Porkrind.” He got closer to the counter and notices the gun. “Uh, guess better safe than sorry?” He pointed at it. Porkrind nodded at Sulivan. “Yeah, I won’t miss next time.” Cagney glanced at the gun. “Doesn’t only have one eye mess with your depth perception or something?” Porkrind grunted. “Doesn’t mean I can’t shoot. Bet your girlfriend here holds herself just fine for being blind.” Isabella chuckled sweetly. “Well, if the target is noisy, I might have my chances.” “Say, did you had the chance to talk to Ribby and Croaks yet?” Sulivan asked Isabella while making some signs with his hands indicating to Porkrind that she was the lady he talked about the other day. “Not yet but it’s on my to-do-list! And thank you for helping me the other day; that was really sweet” She used her extra charming tone, making Sulivan turn red. “Oh gosh… it was nuthin’.” He played with his beret. then remembered the carnation was standing right there “Em.. are you two…?” He asked pointing at them, implying if they were dating. Porkrind chuckled quietly but kept to himself, not really wanting to get too involved in his customers’ lives unless it could lead to some return business. Which left Cagney quickly shaking his head, realizing what the salamander was implying. “What? No, no, no,” he ascertained, “Just showing her around is all. Trying to make sure no one is going to give her any trouble,” he added, flashing the salamander a not so nice grin. Sulivan gulped taking the message of the giant flower. “H-how nice of ya! Hehe.. well I won’t take anymore of your time. Nice seeing ya again!” He quickly walked out of the shop without buying what he needed. “What a strange fellow,” Isabella pointed out to the remaining people.

–

Unbeknownst to Sulivan, two eyes watched the salamander’s interactions with the flower and bat woman. They followed him as he finally walked away from Porkrind’s shop, empty handed. Amber’s eyes narrowed and she quietly hissed.

Sweetheart? So THAT was his game. Pretending to be this homely little salamander down on his luck while in actuality, he was a sneak! He didn’t even buy anything, just confirming her suspicion that he only visited these places to hit on beautiful women. For some reason, this made her furious and her fur stood on end. Nevermind that Amber flirted all the time. That didn’t count. She quietly plotted as she crept away, definitely planning on bringing a weapon tomorrow.

–

Isabella got close to Cagney and gently placed a hand on his arm. “Shall we continue the tour?”

Cagney heated up at the contact and swallowed. “Yeah, yeah, uh next fellow is a bit…different,” he chose his words carefully as they walked toward the direction of Goopy Le Grande’s home.

The carnation thought about the salamander’s words. “When are you looking for work exactly, if you don’t mind me asking?” “Whenever I find a babysitter for Mina.” The bat said with a sigh. “Night time is the best time to meet the owners of clubs, but I don’t want to leave my little înger alone. I was hoping this tour will help me meet someone that might have what it takes to watch over her while I go hunting for a job.” “A babysitter, huh? Why don’t you get that crazy rabbit lady to watch your kid? Her kid is your daughter’s friend I think. Or at least, wasn’t dumb enough to run away when she trespassed. That probably counts as a friend.” Cagney looked ahead and groaned. “Speaking of friends, the moron coming towards us right now insists we are friends. We are not friends. I repeat, we are not-” “Hello, my friend!” Goopy Le Grande hopped toward them, all a beam with smiles. “I was just thinking of you the other day, old spot! Especially after that storm we had. What did you and Hilda get into a spat about this time?” The slime noticed Isabella and beamed. “Why, Cagney, who’s this lovely companion here?”

Isabella thought about Cagney’s suggestion and chuckled when Goopy got close to meet them. She did listened carefully what he said about a fight with someone called Hilda. A girlfriend perhaps?

“I’m Isabella Bechstein” she spread her arm to handshake the new voice. “I just moved in” she said sweetly.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bechstein. I am Goopy Le Grande, world renowned and loved by all creatures fair and small.” He tipped his “cap” to the woman. “Lovely name. Romanian, isn’t it? Beautiful country. Am încercat o dată un tip acolo,” he added with a wink.

Isabella chuckled wondering if he really knew what he was saying “You’re quite charming, Monsieur Le Grande. Parlez vous français?”

Goopy laughed boisterously. “Bien sûr. Mon nom est le grand après tout!”

Cagney stared at the two of them in confusion. “I have….no idea what either of you are saying.”

“Oh! Sorry, darling” She apologized to Cagney. “We should stick to English, Monsieur Le Grand. I wouldn’t want to upset my dear guide.” She used her enticing voice and softly caressed the giant flower´s arm. She was actually really grateful that he accepted to take her for a tour after the rough start they had.

Cagney thought bats were supposed to be hairy and leathery but Isabella’s paws were rather soft and it was difficult to suppress the shiver her touch sent through his stem. He caught Goopy giving him a bemused expression and scowled at the goop.

“Right, thanks. I just wanted to show her around. Maybe find her some people who are kid friendly.” “I am one the friendliest goops this side of the isle!” Goopy announced, “I’m a great role model to the little ones!” He leaned in, sneakily. “But if you really want someone who deals with kids, you should really take her to see Hilda. She is pretty good with kids. Have you heard about her?” Cagney bared his teeth at him. “Goopy,” he warned, trying to keep his tone even. “Well, you sound like a great babysitter, but not sure you could handle my little Mina… she’s quite a handful,” she said, proud of her daughter’s ability to get in crazy situations, like fighting a giant flower. “And I have heard of Hilda, but I haven’t got the chance to meet her yet.”

Goopy ignored the death glare Cagney was giving him. “Oh she’s fantastic! She runs space projects for the school kids and can hold her own pretty well against even the most barbed opponent,” Goopy continued, noticing the thorns starting to pop out of Cagney’s stem.

“She sounds really great!” The bat turned her head towards the carnation, not noticing his change of mood. “Will we see her in our tour?”

Cagney froze at the question. “No.” He smiled evilly at Goopy. “But I’m sure Mister Le Grande here would love to take you since he’s running his mouth so much about her.” Goopy winked back at the carnation. “Now, now, I know you’re much more familiar with Ms Hilda Berg than I am, ya old rascal. I’m sure she would love to show you both the exhibits and the dome and-” “The dome is broken,” Cagney snapped. Goopy’s brow furrowed. “The dome is broken? What do you mean it’s broken…?” He looked at the carnation’s pained expression and his eyes widened. “Oh.” Cagney sighed. It was gonna come out eventually. Goopy cleared his throat. “Mademoiselle Bechstein, may I have private word with Cagney for just a minute or two?”

Isabella’s gossip sensors skyrocketed but she managed to stay cool and not show her interest in other’s lives. “Sure! I’ll just go…” She wiggled her ears making a soft chirping noise to get some idea of her surroundings …“over there” she finally said, walking away from them. She stopped far enough to give them privacy, but not out of her exceptional ear range. She sat on the grass and enjoyed the sun, humming a happy tune, pretending not to pay attention to them.

Cagney watched her go and was immediately suspicious. He racked his brain for a way to convey the information and then groaned when he realized he had only one option. “Iway inkthay eshay ancay earhay usway. Eshay eardhay erhay aughterday ethay otherway ightnay idinghay.”

Goopy looked confused before grinning. “Really? We haven’t used that since we were kids.” Cagney gave him a look and Goopy repeated, “Iway aven'thay usedway isthay incesay eway ereway idskay.” “Iway okebray Ilda'shay omeday.” “YOU WHAT?” Cagney cringed at Goopy’s outburst. “Atwhay appenedhay? Owhay areway ouyay illstay aliveway?” Goopy asked, realizing the carnation looked relatively intact. “Iway asway overway andway erethay asway away urgularbay andway Iway iedtray otay ithay emthay onlyway otay eakbray ethay omeday insteadway. Andway Iway amway aliveway ecausebay…Iway oday otnay owknay. Utbay Ildahay andway Iway aidsay ingsthay otay eachway otherway atthay Iway oday otnay inkthay eshay illway everway antway otay eesay emay againway. Ornay Iway erhay.” Cagney stuck his tongue out at the words. “This is hard,” he admitted. Goopy nodded. “What are you going to do now?” “I don’t know. I’m supposed to…uh…Iway amway upposedsay otay eesay omorrowtay orfay away ateday….Iway inkthay”

“Ugh… clever hippie…” Isabella grumbled. She still managed to figure out some words but she couldn’t make up much of what they were talking about.

Goopy smiled. “You should go.” “What? Why?!” “It’s for the best! You’ll be happy in no time. C'mon, don’t you trust me?’ “Not at all.” “That’s the spirit!” Goopy looked toward Isabella. “We’re all done now! Cagney has graciously allowed me to escort you to Hilda’s later today as he has some planning to do.” Her ears perked up at the voice of Goopy calling for her. “Oh! That is great!” She stood up, cleaned some of the dirt off her clothes and got closer to them. “We will have the chance to get to know each other,” she said sweetly, secretly hoping he would blabber more about the neighbors than the carnation.

Cagney pulled at a petal. “Actually now that I think about it, she is the last one on this isle you haven’t met. If you want to go with Goopy at this point, I’ll just head back to my field and talk to you later?”

“Aww, you going to leave me?” She said with her enticing voice “Oh well…I guess you must be tired with all this walking.” She leaned towards Cagney. "Thank you very much for introducing me to everybody. Besides my expectations,“ She chuckled remembering all the horrible things she said to him the day before, "I really enjoyed your company.” She said sincerely, stretching out a hand so they could shake.

Cagney chuckled. “And you ain’t too bad yourself, when you’re not going all momma bear on people,” he admitted, shaking her hand. lsabella smiled back and turned to Goopy, “Shall we go then, Monsieur Le Grande?” Goopy Le Grande offered an elbow to Isabella. “Of course, Mademoiselle Bechstein.” He waved to Cagney. “I’m sure Isabella and I have will have plenty to talk about!” “Goopy, I will put you in your grave,” Cagney warned. Goopy giggled. “I’ll just come back. I always do.”

She felt Goopy’s elbow and held on to it. She waved goodbye to Cagney and discreetly took a last breath of the delicate fragrance of the carnation before walking away.

Goopy led the bat away from the carnation, loudly asking her, “Soooo, what brings you to the isles?”

“What brings me to the isles?” she repeated, “I wanted to find a place for my Mina to grow up happy.” And to hide, but she decided to keep that detail to herself. “The cities are too noisy and crowded… What about you?” “Me? Well I grew up here, did some traveling but back here to run the family business- gravestones. With my boxing on the side, of course.” He continued to speak loudly, glancing at the ground. She raised an eyebrow when Goopy mentioned the family business. “Well, you’re very cheerful to be working in that line of business,” she chuckled. “And you do boxing too?” She caressed his arm to try to feel the muscles. She didn’t feel much but she pretended to be impressed.

If Isabella could see, she would have spotted the ripples Goopy gave up when he laughed. “Have to be cheerful in my line of work. And don’t be shy about feeling these arms of mine. I’m quite the specimen of a goop if I do say so myself. Now what do you do for a living?”

“Interesting…” she said with a sensual tone. “Me, I’m a singer, currently looking for a job. You don’t happen to know any bands, do you?"

"A singer, eh? Hmm, I got a little owner at a speakeasy who owes me a favor or two! I think there’s a jazz band or so coming in tomorrow evening. If you’ve got time, we could head over there and see if they need a singer? Before we see Miss Berg, if you like?” “Seriously?” She said excited, “I would very much like that! Oh! Mulţumesc!” She gave the goop a loud kiss on his cheek and held on tightly to his arm.

Goopy accepted the kiss graciously. “Yes, yes of course. We’ll head over there now…And now that we’ve gotten some distance away from our mutual friend,” Goopy gestured behind them even though she was blind, “Is there anything you would like to know? I haven’t had a good gossip buddy in ages!”

—

Sulivan walked halfway home when he remembered he didn’t bought what he went there for. When he was closer to the shop he made sure Cagney wasn’t there anymore and entered. “Uf… who would thought a flower could be that scary….”

Porkrind spotted Sulivan returning. “Ya remember what you went to buy, Sulivan?” “Yes yes, eh… you see I’ve met this gal last night… and we really hit it off! We spent the night together… but not like that!” The salamander corrected seeing a smirk starting to show on Porkrind’s face and turned even more red “ we just talked, that’s all! But… we going to a date and… I wanted to get her something nice….” Porkrind smirked at the salamander. “You’re either a very lucky man or a very unlucky man indeed, Sulivan. A woman like that either really likes you or wants something that you have. And hate to say it but 9 times out 10, it’s the latter.” Porkrind began to display some of his merchandise. “What’s the little lady like? And was she there in the morning?” Sulivan looked at his friend worried. “Oh… what could she want from me? And yes! She stayed, she even fished breakfast” He took a look at the merchandise “Well, she has a beautiful and bright, chestnut fur, her eyes as big as the moon!” He leaned on the counter sighing. “Her delicate silhouette would make swans jealous! And she’s interested in what I do, and she knows how to fish!” Chestnut fur? Porkrind grit his tusks. That sounded very similar to the thief from a few days ago. “She ain’t a cat or a ferret, is she?”

The salamander looked at Porkrind in surprise. “Why, yes she is! How do you…?”

Porkrind put a hand on the salamander’s shoulder with a heavy sigh. “Kid, it pains me to tell you this, but I’m 90% sure your dame is a thief. A cat burglar to be precise.”

“What?!” Sulivan stepped back to shake off Porkrind´s hand. “Y-You haven’t even met her yet! She’s sweet, and charming! She would never steal!” He put on his beret, angry. “You know, I changed my mind! I´ll go get her some flowers or somettin´. Good day!” He stormed out of the store.

Porkrind shook his head. “Poor, lovesick bastard, he has no idea.” He pulled out his shotgun and began to clean it. “Shouldn’t have missed the first time. He’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Sulivan walked without a direction for a while, angry at the shopkeeper and mumbling to himself. “How can he say that! A delicate angel like her… ”

–

Amber repeatedly stabbed at a picture of Sulivan she sketched with her claws before ripping it up into tiny shreds with a tiny growl.

“Right, stealing. Gotta go steal something,” she reminded herself, walking away…before running back and violently stomping on the pieces of paper.

—

“My dear Amber wouldn’t do such thing!” Sulivan stopped and sat on a rock nearby. He put his elbows on his knees and rested his head on both hands.

He tried to forget about Porkrind and wondered what kind of present he could get for Amber. Maybe he could ask somebody for suggestions… Psy? Goopy? Maybe even Elder Kettle? After a few minutes he decided to visit Psycarrot first and walked to the Root Pack field.

–

Cagney unburrowed himself once he was in his field and stretched. Well, that was more walking than he had intended to do for a while. He had left Isabella in the somewhat more capable hands of Goopy (which he begrudgingly admitted, was probably one of the more trustworthy residents). Still, he had shown her around enough and if she was lucky, word got around that she knew him and that would be enough to keep too many islanders from messing with her. At least on this isle.

He looked toward his tree and stopped in his tracks. Sitting near his spot was a giant pot. With a bow on it. He was immediately on guard. “This was not here when I left.” He approached it warily and when he was sure nothing was going to pop out did he inspect it. It kinda looked like the pot Hilda had tried to give him. A bit fancier that’s for sure, but it was similar. The fact that there was a bow on it clued him in to the fact that it could be a present? Or a trap. He peeked inside. Nope. No hiding Hilda or trained assassin. He circled it once more until he saw a piece of paper stuck to the pot. He plucked it and opened it. “Eager to continue what we started two nights ago. See you tomorrow. Don’t keep me waiting?” He read outloud. He stared at it, looked around, and then read it again. This was Hilda’s writing alright. His mind immediately went into overdrive. “Continue what we started…” he repeated and he felt his hands shake. Before Hilda had left, they had been lying down on the bed and they were going to…to…He turned bright red before realizing something else. “Wait, no, we tried to kill each other!” He remembered. Cagney really racked his brain now. Did Hilda really want to fight him in the jazz bar they had planned on going to? That seemed a bit excessive, but then again, he had nearly crushed her. Maybe she would turn into the moon and crush him in kind. And this don’t keep her waiting business? Was this so she could set up a trap and make sure he would be there on time to fall for it? “I probably should show up before her just in case she…” He nearly slapped himself in the forehead. “Hold up, I just said I never wanted to see her again and here I am planning on getting there first to meet up with her for a potential bar brawl?! Am I insane?” He rested his head against the pot and scrunched his eyes shut. “Ughhh, I HAVE to go,” he realized. If he didn’t, and there was even a slight chance of reconciliation, he really would lose her forever.

–

Psycarrot let out a low whistle after the carnation and the bat left. “Did you see how impressed she was with my story? It’s the natural charm for sure!” The carrot looked to see if Moe and Weepy were listening.

He found a very angry potato staring at him. “We said we would never talk about it!” Moe said, referring to the embarrassing story he revealed to a newcomer and crossed his arms.

Weepy smiled at the carrot. It was a fun and courageous story he thought.

“Hey there, gang!” Sulivan called, getting closer to the fence. Moe turned to see the salamander getting closer. “Hey! Hi, Sulivan. Your order is not ready yet, we got some trouble with the storm.” “Oh! No, don’t worry, I’m here for something else.” He reached the fence. “ I need help…” He turned a bit red. Psycarrot knew that red face goofy look anywhere. “Sayyyyy, this wouldn’t be about a girl now would it?” Sulivan hid behind his beret giggling “Well… yes it is! A real angel!” He described her again for the vegetables, playing nervously with his beret between his hands. “And now I want to find the perfect gift. Something to show her how much she means to me… without being creepy,” he added knowing that sometimes the produce got carried away in their ideas. Like that time when Psycarrot dressed Moe Tato as a woman to seduce someone for who knows what. Psycarrot rubbed his hands together. “Well! A lady such as this does indeed sound special! How long have you been together? I can think of a couple of real nice things if this is a year anniversary!”

The salamander chuckled “Oh! I just met her last night…at the Joint. We really hit it off! She spent the night at my place… but we only talked! It was very nice….”

Psycarrot began to elbow his companions. “She SPENT the night?! Oh Sulivan, you dog you! Ha! I think you already have the cat in the bag!”

“Attaboy! Didn’t think you had it in ya!” Moe patted Sulivan’s back.

“Oh! No! Guys! C'mon! Nuthin’ happened… we… we just had a good time talking about ourselves…although…” He blushed. “I-I think she might be the one. She’s so… soo… so unique! Not like any other woman I’ve ever met… I really want her to like me. What can I do?” “Aww!” Weepy squealed happy “That is so sweet! I’ve never seen you so happy, Sullivan.” His eyes started to tear up. “I’m… I’m so glad for you!”

Psycarrot scratched his chin. “Well, you could impress her with your great intellect and romantic witty banter…or is that just me?”

They all frowned at the carrot.

“Listen, Sull. Ladies like it when you spend money on them,” Moe made a gesture with his fingers rubbing together, "But they will hate you if you buy something they don’t like. What you should do is take her shopping! That way you’ll pay for what she really wants to have! No risks of making her mad.” He concluded leaning on the fence. “What? I thought they liked romantic stuff… like romantic dinners at fancy clubs,” Weepy said, scratching his head. Sulivan looked at both of them, not sure which advice was the best. “I don’t know…” He looked at Psycarrot, hoping he will come up with something better. Psycarrot rubbed his hands together. “You say you’re taking her to carnival, right? How good are you at the games? Ladies love it when guys can win them stuff.”

Moe snapped his fingers “Oh! Yeah! Show her your skills! Shoot the ducks, test your strength, and win her stuff she wants!” “A night in the carnival does sound romantic! With all the lights… the merry-go-round…” the onion said, holding his hands together. “Hm… I am good at throwing darts.” Sulivan said, scratching his forehead .

“Darts?! Ha!” Psycarrot shook his head. “No, women like a man who demonstrates great feats of strength and intelligence - a Renaissance man, if you will! It’s evolution! Women are always attracted more to men who can take the lead! So go for the hammer prizes!”

“The hammer prizes?” The salamander repeated, “but… I’m not very strong…”.

“Psy is right!” Moe crossed his arms. “You gotta show off a little! Any idiot with an eye can throw a dart! You just have to train a bit.” Weepy looked at them, raising an eyebrow. The salamander was very slim, he might have been a great sailor once, but now he was all bones.

Psycarrot slammed the salamander on the back. "And that is why we’re going to help beef you up! I’ve got some beet juice here that’ll put some muscle on those scales! You could even start by pushing that wheelbarrow of gardening supplies for us to start flexing those muscles!” He added slyly.

“W-w-what?” Sulivan started to say when Moe interrupted him by grabbing the back of his shirt and putting him down on the other side of the fence.

“Go on now! You don’t have much time ‘till tomorrow!”. “Oh dear… ” Weepy lamented, leaving them to carry their crazy plan and took care of their plants. —

Meanwhile, over the sea ,a serious looking spider gentleman, dressed elegantly in dark green suit, was looking to the distant isles of Inkwell aboard a big ship carrying cargo for Mr King Dice.

A crab sailor approached him. “We’ll be arriving tonight, sir.” The gentleman didn’t bother to look at the crab. “Thank you Mr. Porto. I’ll inform my men.” The sailor nodded but he didn’t leave. The spider looked at him with his six eyes, well, five. There was one closed, but judging by the tiny marks around it, it seemed it has been scratched out. “Anything else?” He said very calmly but there was still something disturbing in his tone. The sailor hesitated. “W-when we reach port, I’m going to have to declare the cargo I carry, and there will be an inspection….” “And I will take care of it. No one opens the cargo but me.” “Y-yes, sir.” Mr. Porto left the gentleman knowing he was being watched by those preying eyes. When the sailor was out of view, the spider looked at one of the big cargo boxes and allowed a small smile creep into his face. “Questo sarà l'inizio di una bella e proficua amicizia.”

——–

CHAPTER 01, CHAPTER 02, CHAPTER 03, CHAPTER 04, CHAPTER 05, CHAPTER 06, CHAPTER 07, CHAPTER 08, CHAPTER 09, CHAPTER 10; CHAPTER 11; CHAPTER 12 ; CHAPTER 13 (You’re here!)

#cagney carnation #isabella betchstein #goopy le grande #the root pack #psycarrot #weepy #moe tato #Sullivan Wells #porkrind #cuphead #fan fiction #rol play #smallpersiankittencuphead #smallpersiankitten #necrida #submission

14 notes · View notes

buchananbarnes1991 · 6 years

Text

How my Sergeant Barnes/Winter Soldier/ Post Hydra fell in love with Steve-- HC [The In-depth back story]

There's key points in Bucky and Steve's friendship and thus their possibility of a romantic relationship. How I see it. Some of it is canon and some of it that I've added in to fill in some plot holes. This is going to be a very long post but it is something I have been meaning to write for a while. Sorry in advance to anyone that is permanently mobile. heh.... ENJOY!

[Remember, this is all how I see it. I do not speak for all muns of Bucky Barnes that write the stucky ship threads. This is just my Bucky. :3]

--Domi

Intro: In 1917, Bucky was born in Romania, lived there until he was eight. His father died in the war and his mother got scared of what would happen to her son's future. His mother remarried and moved to the states.

First key point: Bucky ended up moving in next door to this young five year old blond haired, blue eyed boy named Steven Grant Rogers. [I like the idea of the three year age gap between them as it adds to Bucky being more protective of the Brooklyn punk, so Steve Rogers was born in 1920 unless a mun wants him born in 1918.] He quickly felt protective of the younger boy and did what he could to earn his trust despite knowing very little to almost no English. The two of them began to teach one another how to speak each other's languages. Bucky learned English and exchange, he taught Steve Romanian. Which is why Bucky passes so well as being American born and doesn’t have a Romanian accent as an adult unless he speaks in Romanian. He always looked out for the skinny punk from Brooklyn. Did his best to keep him out of trouble and keep bullies away from him. He fell in love with Steve the same year that Sarah passed away. Though he never felt it was safe to tell Steve as the time they grew up in, society found Homosexuality to be sinful and Bucky didn’t want to risk putting himself nor Steve in harm/being left to rot in jail/put to a death sentence. [1938] Their bond grew stronger. That was also within the same months that Bucky was drafted/Enlisted for the army. He didn't want to leave his family and best friend behind. But he knew he needed to protect those that he held close in his heart. So he swallowed his worries and attended boot camp training after white lying on his Enlistment [or draft] form about his nationality and birth place. Since he passed so well as American born thanks to Steve. Second key point: The year [1943 to early 1944] he spent in Hydra's prisoner camp with his fellow troops. He made a mistake as a Sergeant leader and his unit [the 107th] got captured and a lot of them killed. He was stubborn for while until he got sickly and that is when Hydra began experimenting on him. He didn't know what was going on. He felt it was a dream almost when Steve pulled him from the unstable mind sweeper/possible genetic chemical injector that he had been strapped into. Steve was back in his life again. Steve was there, alive, for some reason Taller and stronger but still always confident. As Hydra's camp was exploding and burning down. He was terrified while crossing the support beam that gave out under his feet once he got to the other side. He refused to leave his bestfriend and desired love interest behind. He would rather die than lose him at that point. Third key point: Still protecting Steve on the train mission. He closed that door to keep Steve from having to deal with Enemies on both sides. [Obviously the train explosion and him falling to what he believed what would have been his death wasn't in the plan.] He regretted closing that door as soon as he was holding on to the broken train edge. Forth Key point: As the Winter Soldier [Named Cyron Oaza in my verse]. His mission is to kill Steve. But he can't bring himself to. He could have easily killed him but hearing the pain and the prepared emotion to give up his life in the blond stranger's voice pulled that young long forgotten Sergeant back into his head. He couldn't understand why he suddenly felt something for a man he didn't know other than his target. This is why he pulled him from the river and made sure he was alive before he rejected going back to Hydra. Fifth key point: Going to the museum. He learned about who he used to be. James Buchanan Barnes. Sergeant Barnes. That cocky, overly confident man that Cyron/Winter Soldier was brain washed into hating. He also learned about Steven Grant Rogers. Bucky's best friend. Train jumping and taking sketchy flights that had weak metal detectors to Romania to hide from Hydra. One day he learns he has been framed for a mass murder bombing. He doesn't understand ,-- [he knows he wasn’t responsible for the bombing in Vienna. He was just paying his rent the day it had happened.] -- quickly retreating to his apartment to quite possibly move places again as his tiny shitty apartment was NOT his first free living place. There's a man in his apartment. Captain America. Steve...He doesn't understand why or how he had found.. but he hears him out. Being informed that the German government is planning to capture him and not alive. Bucky/Cyron protects Steve yet again because he's remembering bits and pieces of the past. Even if he didn’t want to admit to it in the apartment before the police had broken in. He was afraid to admit he could remember him. Worried that Steve would be ashamed of him even if the Winter Soldier wasn’t something he could control about himself. The pain of the past. He’s not Bucky Barnes anymore, at least not the Bucky the world knew. As well, he’s not The Winter Soldier anymore. [Why I created Cyron Oaza. As I can see him not wanting to exactly be associated with the past because to him that means if he is Bucky, he made a good man do a lot of terrible things.] Sixth Key Point: Trusting Steve after he is out of the Winter Soldier mind set that Zemo forced him into while he was being interrogated. A majority of his memories are back while some are still fuzzy. He remembers his bestfriend. The good times, the bad times, their strong bond. He’s himself again [in a way, still in that limo mental state of being somewhere between his old self and his assassin self.] Despite his mind still being a wreck. He agrees to help take down the remaining Winter Soldiers in Slovakia and hopefully Zemo as well. Once Tony Stark hears and sees the tape from 1991--He’s terrified. Not only for his own safety as he regrets the past he couldn’t control but also Steve’s safety. Which is why he fights back. In an attempt to keep his bestfriend [Whom he just got back several hours ago] Alive. Fighting on Steve’s side, against Tony Stark until he ends up at the point of defeat when Tony blasts his bionic arm off. [Which was extremely painful to him,-- as in the apartment building battle when he stops himself from falling down the stairwell, grabbing the railing, he lets out a gutteral groan/yelp. His bionic arm is connected to his body, his muscles and nerves.-- but due to shock he doesn’t feel it right away. Silently in pain on the ground as he mentally accepts that it could very well be the end for him. Why he doesn’t get up to fight anymore.]

Bonus key points in regarding Wakandan Bucky which is still an AU verse to me as I personally do not feel comfortable portraying him yet because I don’t have enough of his personality to accurately write him. 1. He agrees to go under Cryogenic freeze as he doesn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. 2. When he is unfrozen, he has connections to Steve via skype calls and Steve visiting. [I think this is where they finally confess feelings for each other.] 3. Bucky’s mind is fixed up through Spiritual healing and time spent with Shuri.[The turning point where he is comfortable with being called Bucky Barnes again.] 4.He still loves science and Technology. 5. He’s taken on the name of White Wolf, the Wakandan children nick-named him and he accepts it as his new alias. 6. The reasoning behind the hug being so subtle/short is that Bucky and Steve wouldn’t be the type to blast their relationship out there for everyone to see. It’s personal to them. [More than likely, those that live in Wakanda know about it but have agreed to keep their romance a secret.] 7. He’s not shocked by the fact that another fight has to happen. He doesn’t exactly know how to feel about his new Vibranium arm that is detachable but knows he needs it and does become fond over the few hours he has it. 8. he loves Wakanda and considers it his home away from home, aka Brooklyn, New York.

Well that was an incredibly long post. xDD I hope that those who ship with me read this. Also just those whom want to understand more of Bucky’s mind regarding his friendship and possible relationship with Steven. Please do not steal or [filters the next word purposely] rebagel this :P

Much love!! <3

#Musing #Hcs #About Sergeant Barnes #About Winter Soldier #About Post Hydra #Bucky's mind #ooc #mun stuff #Back story #[Stucky]#Yourfriendlyneighbourhoodtransman

6 notes · View notes

mymind--themess · 6 years

Text

Terms of Entrapment -- Prologue

Here I was...again.

The wet Romanian soil that mixed with soot beneath my feet was cold in comparison to the chaotic fire in front of me. Even so far away from the biggest of the flames, I could still feel the waves of it's warmth on my pale skin. The fire seemed to be alive as it swept through the estate before me and swiftly down the hill it sat upon. I didn't even gag at the smell of the rotting flesh assaulting my nose -- it was expected considering a faceless corpse wasn't far from me. Besides, the scent wasn't as bad as it would've been had it not began to downpour. My copper red locks clung to my drenched gown, and I couldn't help but stare at my drenched state as I stood completely still.

I knew the current me, the me that's a brunette bookworm from New York City with the most morbid sense of humor, is asleep in my bed in modern day Paris. No longer am I the Romanian redhead I currently see myself as. I'm sure Bram Stoker's book isn't that far off on how I used to be, besides my looks. Y'know, Dracula's brides -- I was the one who was no bark and all too happy to sink her fucking fangs into something.

It's always here I come back to in my sleep lately, the memory becoming more and more prevalent since I first touched down on European soil a few years back. I suppose it's my specific form of punishment for the past, why wouldn't it be? My soul isn't in the original pit of fire I had sold it to through marriage. Somehow, I had been reincarnated and slipped out of a loophole I didn't even know existed. I figure reliving my death over and fucking over in my nightmares is more than fair.

"Dracula! I know you are in there, my love! I need you! Make them unhand me!"

Perhaps the worst part was hearing her cry his name so desperately, even though that bastard was nowhere to be found. Glancing uphill, I followed the trail of fire toward the castle to look at the source of the voice, my eyes landing on the feminine silhouette that was the source of the cry of his name. The wind and rain whipped around her, throwing cascades of ash blonde locks into her pretty, sickly face while the skirt of her dress was tossed rapidly by the wind as well. She didn't even bother to shield herself, body trembling as she screamed in agony for any sign of Dracula -- as if she had actually known him long enough to have the right to scream like that. Then again, I wasn't surprised to find her like that, nor was I surprised when the shouts of her human husband, Mr. Harker, reached my ears. Clearly the little brat was going through a withdrawal and had escaped wherever the hell her husband and the Vatican had hidden her. Having not lain with Dracula nor tasted his blood in about three moon cycles, it was incredulous that Mina was even still alive -- all of those separated from their sire within her Changed class die within just one moon cycle. The Church must've been close to the cure Mr. Harker had paid them so handsomely for.

This sort of situation happens more often than people would think between the Changer and the Changed. When it comes to being changed, it's unknown which of the six classes of Changed the new fledgling will be. The different classes have a very direct influence on the connection the fledgling and sire will share for eternity. Nobody can influence or change the class a Changed will fall under. This connection, no matter how it turns out, is crucial and referred to as Soul Binding: A case of natural selection completely up to fate in the supernatural society that can determine life or death all whilst keeping power balance with a chain of command system. A Changer cannot determine what class of fledgling they will have, and the Changed will vary significantly. Each supernatural species has these major six classes, and these can even be broken up into smaller, more specific categories. A Changed can even have characteristics of multiple classes. These Changed are referred to as "Toss-Ups" or "Jacks".

The first class of the Changed are the Independent. This class of the Changed will share very little connection at all to their sire, and therefore the majority are free to find and follow their own paths and agendas. This class isn't very common, and due to their lack of connection, these types of Changed tend to stay to themselves, often ashamed or angry about what they've become.

The second class are the Familiars; fledglings that end up having a paternal or fraternal bond with their sires. This class heavily depends upon their makeshift family and are extremely family-oriented -- they hardly leave each other. Although that doesn't mean shit doesn't happen; Supernatural families can become dysfunctional too. However, if separated from said "family" for long periods of time, these types of Changed can become extremely emotionally unstable.

Intimates are the third class, and clearly where my fellow brides and I fell. Intimates become lovers or mates, and often they don't leave each other either. Of course clearly, this isn't always the case and sometimes these Changed will have a very toxic relationship with their sire. It's perhaps the most complicated of the classes, because the reality is while they will always need each other, they might stop wanting each other. It can be either a very bitter and nasty situation or a mutual understanding, these relationships often ending in scandalous affairs or open relationships.

Next comes the class of the Obedient. This poor fourth class are the Changed who become subservient, or those who believe their sire is their God. The majority are basically servants, but there are some who will do anything and everything their sire even thinks of, and thus the situation can become deadly for a fledgling. This class often has to deal with obsession issues, and it can get rather annoying for the sire, leading to rejection. There have been rare cases of an extreme Obedient being rejected and killing their sire or even themselves.

The fifth class is the Territorial, and they are some vicious sons of bitches. These fledglings get very emotional and very violent very fast over their sires, or even over others they become attached to. They won't hesitate to get to their sire no matter the cost, and it can be deadly for all involved. Plus side? They are skilled in battle and have the most strength. Brutal con? Anger issues are aplenty, and they can be extremely overbearing toward their sire of the object of their affection.

The final class of the Changed are referred to as Addicts. Addicts are perhaps the most pathetic and endangered out of all six classes. They depend solely upon some form of their sire that can range from simply hearing their voice to even their blood. Some cases were quite mild, and others quite severe. Many are rejected by their sires and therefore die simply because they're considered too much to handle.

Mina Harker was the very definition of a severe addict in the supernatural society. Ugh, she was a disgusting, sickly sight, and it honestly satisfied me to see her that way. Her skin was a horrid shade of grey and those bags under her eyes matched her sunken cheeks perfectly. She needed that bastard I called a husband more than she needed her own damn husband, and due to how supernaturally uneducated and how new of a fledgling she was, Mina's still human-like mind had mistaken her addiction for her sire as true, undying love.

I loathed her and still have an undying distaste for her; she ruined everything! Everything was fine until he took an interest in her.

"Whore." I felt my lips mumble bitterly, my thick Romanian accent present.

The fire roared loudly as it rose higher, the fingers of the flames reaching for the dark sky above as if to greet the rain, and I took a deep inhale of breath, waiting for my feet to move by themselves. I have no control of my actions every time I relived this moment, but full control of my thoughts. Adamantly, the control of my thoughts is a blessing in disguise when it comes to getting killed over and over. The first few times this happened, it horrified me immensely to be able to know I was going to die and not be able to stop myself. But nowadays? I genuinely think of what I should have for breakfast when I wake up or what I have to do later on in the day while my body is on an unfortunate autopilot.

I narrowed my eyes as I felt my body take the first step toward my inevitable demise, waiting for this to play out...but my body stopped walking. What the hell?

"What the hell?"

Did I just talk? Like...actually make my current thoughts verbal?

I did.

My eyes widened slightly as I tested out my ability to look down. I could move my neck and look down, and for further proof to myself, I wiggled my bare left foot with ease.

Oh...well, this was new.

And scary.

What was going on?

I glanced back up to the scene uphill again as suddenly all sound stopped. The fire still consumed everything, yet no cackle came. The dumb broad still stood there screaming as her husband and one of his friends held her back from running blindly into the fire, but her screams weren't piercing my ears. I gulped deeply and began to walk uphill, the guards I passed not even noticing me.

Something was amiss here.

The scene continued, but without me playing my part. I watched as Mina yelled at the empty space in front of her where I usually would be at this point, hissing and blaming her for everything that happened. I watched as she was shoved back along with her husband by an invisible force that would've also been my doing had this played out like usual. It would've been at this point that I had stormed inside of my burning home, but I didn't -- not when I saw Dracula's own guards pull Mina up and carry her away as she began to convulse, also helping up Mr. Harker to follow behind. My confusion was immense as to why exactly they treated Mina with such...respect. If she was truly so respectable, she wouldn't have dared to be Dracula's mistress in the first place. We wouldn't be in this fucking mess had she stayed faithful to her loving husband and if my husband could think just a little less with the head below his belt.

You think the original three of us would've been enough; Verona, Marishka, and I. We paid prices so high and committed so much sin, played a huge part in building Dracula's empire by getting our hands filthy for him, only to be tossed aside in the end for this tramp. My fellow brides wouldn't ever come to know this though.

They were already dead; I was the last bride still standing

Scoffing and shaking my head with another mumble, I continued onward into the castle. "Unbelievable."

As the temperature began to rise and I walked deeper into the flame-filled castle, I noticed that I couldn't feel the searing of my flesh like I usually would've, but I could damn well see the fire eating away at my arms, clothing, and singeing my hair. This could only be described as new, and I pondered there in the inflamed ; do I take the path that led to my death still, or do I venture another way? How long do I have until I wake up from this exactly?

I was suddenly snapped out of my thoughts as I caught something in my peripheral vision walking across a doorway that led to another corridor. It was something that had to have been easily almost eight feet tall, very slender, and resembled a shadow. It could've been many things, like the writhing shadows that the flames danced against, but something told me that wasn't the case at all. The shadow-like thing was much faster paced, and seemed to have a sense of purpose. It peaked my interest easily, so therefore, I decided to head in it's direction without much of a second thought.

I didn't get very far though.

My time was up, I knew, when I suddenly found myself with a gaping whole in the chest where the purified stake should have been, and felt my head be sliced from my neck. I closed my eyes, hating to watch as my vision spun in circles when my head rolled down to the floor with an unceremonious thud.

Fuck.

My eyes snapped open as I took a sharp intake of breath, staring up to the soft baby blue ceiling of my bedroom. I gently gripped my navy blue comforter, needing to know that it was there until the familiar bustle of vehicles and people began to reach my ears from the large window to my right, causing me to exhale in relief.

I was back in reality; I was awake, in Paris, in 2017.

And something was instantaneously unusual.

#vampire #romance #dracula #supernatural #paranormal #reincarnation #story #writing

3 notes · View notes