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aqua-loves-writing · 4 months

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Chapter 4 part 4 is here!

CW: violence, blood, death

After the ground they stood on stopped quivering, they ran ahead to the path in front of them. The roar from earlier must have been from the dragon.

Please be safe. Please be safe. Please be safe.

After a while, they reach a point in the tunnels, where small rays of light shined through the edges of a hidden door.

“Do you think this is it?”

“Leave it alone!”

“Shut it, peasant!”

Before she was able to open it up, two voices screaming at each other burst into their ears.

“Miss, you don’t have to be involved with this. We could go find the evacuation route and you’d be safe to run away without getting caught.”

Despite the things Nexus said, she kicked the door open and made her way insides.

“Alright then. Let’s head on-”

He bumped into her back, “Ouch, is something the matter? Why are you standing like-oh?”

She kept looking around the area. A gigantic cave like room, over hundreds of soldiers could be brought here and there’d still be room for more. The cell rooms, whose iron bars were rusty and bent, were empty. The rough floor was covered with broken chains and shackles. Someone must have crushed them with a powerful weapon. She kept running all over the place, unable to find any sign of a living being.

“Hm, I should write down a report to the emperor about this.”

“I can’t believe this. Everyone is gone. Actually gone. But how? And when?”

She kept walking in circles, trying to figure out what had happened.

Let’s see, it has been a few hours since I’ve seen Mister Miroslav and I’ve gotten the keys to get off those chains. He was distracting the emperor, who later on came to that dragon’s cave. So he must have been brought back here. I don’t see any guards either, and I can’t recall if everyone was called to the ceremony. Maybe they managed to escape when no one was looking? Or maybe they knocked them out? Did he plan this out or something? I haven’t talked to him for a few days, but there’s no way he managed to come up with such a plan in only a few days.

As she kept things through, Nexus just stared, walking in circles alongside her.

“Miss. I apologize for interrupting your thinking sessions. But you might get dizzy if you keep this up.”

“Dizziness is the least of my problems at the moment, and why are you so calm about this? For some knight of miracles, you’ve barely been acting like one at all.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“First, you just show up to me, saying you’re going against your boss's order to help the prisoner. Second, even after I knocked out several people, you didn’t arrest me and acted like I’ve done nothing wrong. Third, for whatever reason, you brought the keys for the cells, for some reason, and then you still call yourself a knight?! Just spare me the headache and tell me what’s your deal, are with or against these guys?”

He simply tilted his head hearing all that, “A yes or no question? I can’t really answer it like that.”

“Really now-”

“But I can give longer answers.”

She decided to tolerate it and hear him out,

“First of all, and I must admit it, it’s quite selfish, but the reason I’ve brought the keys with me, and went against the general, was simply to free someone. An old friend that I’ve wronged once."

He began walking around, her suspicions rising. “I know it sounds strange, but it’s true. He was caught while I was still young, and I wasn’t able to do anything about it. So I thought I could use today as my chance to free him after the ceremony. Though everything with the dragon, I must admit, was a pure coincidence.”

“Uh-huh. That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“You’ve got me there. You see, I do think myself a knight, not in my appearance, but in my values and morals.”

I don't even want to know what those are.

“However,” he turned his gaze away from her, “I do want the Emperor Dead.”

She stumbled back, hearing what he said. “Excuse me?”

His posture was the same, back straightened, holding his hands behind his back. It was hard for her to see if he meant anything he had said.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it literally,” he turned back, his uneasy smile on his face, “So, truthfully, I just want to free someone dear to me, and I wouldn’t mind helping others as well. Though the latter seems to be over and done with,” he giggled.

She distanced herself from him.

“I’ll leave you after this is over and done with, miss! The dragon and the general still pose a threat to the runaway, so I hope you’ll still have me for just a little while-”

“Hiss!”

Another sudden shout had echoed through the enormous cave. The ground quivered. The remainders of the prisoners' shackles kept vibrating. Nexus almost fell, but Alice managed to catch him.

“Fire.”

The sound of bow strings, arrows landing on the rocky ground. A long scream. coming through to her.

“Was that hi,?” she ran towards the source of those noises, leaving the strange knight behind.

“Wait for me, miss!”

She finds herself near the entrance of the room. Hiding behind a mine cart, she watched the scene unfold. There were two sides. One was General Benedict, his soldiers behind readying their bows. On the other was Miroslav, an arrow through his leg as he was under the protection of the dragon.

“What are you doing?” her old friend shouted. “Fly away already! This is none of your business!”

“Silence you peasant,” the general scoffed, the dragon still growling at them, “And you-fire away, soldiers!”

No matter how many times they tried to shoot at it, it simply burned down their arrows to ashes.

“Sir,” one of his soldiers yelled out, “We’re going to run out of arrows at this rate. Should we maybe use our own flames to fight?”

“Are you insane?” the general shouted. “Do you want to spite the gods?! I don’t think so! Go grab more arrows if you’re that desperate!”

“On it, sir!”

The battle kept repeating itself, more blood coming from her friend's leg every second.

Crap. It doesn’t look like they’re going to stop anytime soon, and I doubt I’ll be able to get him out of her without being noticed. Maybe I should use my flames. No, it’s too risky. I’m too tired and their arrows could quickly strike me. Plus, I don’t know if it’s safe enough for me to reveal myself yet. What to do-

“General!”

All the attention was taken away from the fight. The guards stopped shooting, and the dragon began growling at someone else. They were all focusing on the knight of miracles, who was pulling up his dress as he bowed down.

She was gripping her helmet, “What. The. Hell. Is he doing?!”

“What the hell are you doing?” they asked almost in unison. “Shouldn’t you have evacuated out of here ages ago? And where are your guards? Have they’ve gotten in a fight with the escapees or-”

“No, sir!”

“Then what are you still doing here? Why didn’t you get out of here?!”

Please come up with a good excuse! It can’t be that hard.

“Oh, that? Simply put,” he poked his own cheek, “I didn’t want to, is all.”

I will die today, won’t I?

“Didn’t want to!? Have you lost your damn mind?! And what are you doing shielding that beast and peasant!”

The dragon had gotten closer to Miroslav. growling at the people watching them.

“Oh that, I just want your clarification as to why you are threatening an innocent man and animal.”

“Innocent!” he kept shouting, “Because of that man, hundreds of prisoners have gotten away!”

“I see. That does make things complicated. But I do think we need to discuss things over with a judge and jury before we get violent!”

“Oh shut up,” the general stepped in, pushing Nexus into the ground.

“As for you.”

The dragon tried to spit fire at him, but he dodged it. He was able to grab it by its neck, choking it slowly.”

“Leave it be,” Miroslav tried to stand up, but his injury persisted.

“How cute, pitying this abomination of living being.”

“Dear general, I wasn't talking about you.”

“Aw, are those your last words,” he lifted his sword, ready to attack him, “You’ll regret saying them!”

“Enough!”

Just as the general was about to go through Miroslav’s body, Alice managed to repel his attack, his sword stuck in her spear.”

“Agh,” the shock caused him to let go of the dragon, immediately using its tail to hit his head.

“General,” his soldiers yelled as he fell to the ground.

“Ignore me! Go after it!”

The soldiers all came attacking the dragon, who flew right at them. This gave Alice the chance to help Miroslav get up on his feet.

“Mister, are you alright?”

“Little one? Is that you?”

“Yeah and we need to go,” she carried him over her shoulder, “I know a way out, so be careful and-”

“We can’t,” he let’s go off her, slowly crawling on the ground, “He needs to get out of here”

“He,” in front of her, she sees the flying beast fighting the soldiers. “The dragon?”

“Yes, please. We-

“Have you forgotten about me?!”

The general stood up, aiming his sword back at her old friend, but Alice managed to shield him off.

“I don’t know who you are, but I have had it with you already.”

“Little one!”

“I’ll be fine! Just stay behind.”

While the two parties fought, Nexus managed to stand up, cleaning off the dirt from his skirt.

“Knight of Miracles,” the soldiers called out for him, “Please, in the name of Ignia herself, help us against this creature!”

“Hm,” he looks at them, back to Alice and the general fighting, then back to them, “Gentlemen, I apologize but I have my priorities!”

“What?” they were shocked enough to give the dragon the opportunity to bite their weapons, crushing them to pieces.

“You fool,” the general yelled out, “Whose side are you on?”

“The side of the sick!”

Walking formally next to the fighting duo like it was nobody’s business, reaching his hand out to Miroslav.

“Want me to look at your injury, kind sir?”

“You,” he crawled back,his arms clearly shivering, “Do I know you?”

Nexus ignore that, “That doesn’t matter. Please let me take a-”

“Get away. I need to help it.”

When Miroslav tried to crawl his way to the dragon, Nexus grabbed him.

“Mister, please,” Alice yelled out while she was still fighting, “I’ll take care of the dragon, you just stay there and relax.”

“As if I’ll give you the chance!”

She kept on fighting him, even as she got more and more exhausted. She ducks down, trying to stab him in the stomach, he deflects it. Meanwhile, the dragon was able to knock out every single soldier, so it flew towards the two.

The general scoffs, kicking Alice in the stomach while using his sword to deflect the dragon's flames. He picked up her staff, with which he hit the face of the dragon, causing it to hit against the walls.

“Crap.” Alice was too exhausted to stand up or to use her powers.

“Now, who’s gonna go first? The traitor, geezer, or beast?”

“General, please,” Nexus called him out, “Isn’t this unnecessary?”

“Shut it brat! This day has been exhausting already, and my patience is waning.”

He looked at Alice, who was struggling to get up.

“I don’t know what your deal is, but you annoyed me the most. What will your last words be?”

She tried getting her staff back, but he kicked it away.

“Have a nice rest.”

Her eyes were wide open. Blood splattered across her chest. Her body was frozen, she was only able to move up her arm. When she tried to reach it out, Miroslav pulled it down, with a sword going through his heart. He smiled, “You’re too young for this.”

He pulled the sword out, “Pathetic.”

“No, no, no no!”

She grabbed his body, shaking it several, “Mister Miroslav! Hey, can you hear me? Mister please!”

She looks over at Nexus, who tried to stop him but failed. The general began approaching the dragon, its wings widened as he watched.

“It’ll be fine! I promise, mister! We’ll stop the bleeding! Carry you outside, get you to a medic, and you’ll be all fine!”

“Child-”

“Look, there has to be some sort of spare cloth! Nexus, come here. Your dress should be good enough! Just keep your eyes.”

“Little one-”

“It’ll be fine! The exit is near, and you can go see your family again! It might be difficult but I’ll bring you to them! Just hang on for a bit! You’ll get back home! I promise-”

“Alice.”

After he said her name, he coughed up a ton of blood.

“Please,” his body got colder, “If you are going to help me, do this instead.”

His shaking hands pulled out the golden locket, its necklace covered in blood.

“Go to the capital of the fire region, Ashenwood, and bring this to my daughter Teodora Blazeheart-ahh!”

“Mister!”

“Please, this is all I ask of you!”

Her gaze kept shifting between the locket and his face. Gritting her teeth, she decided what to do, “I will bring this to her. I promise.”

“Thank you,” just as he gave her the necklace, his arm fell, and all life left his body.

She carefully put his body down, closing his eye for him. She got back at her feet, grabbed her staff and walked towards the general.

“Wait,” Nexus grabbed her arm, “I’m sorry-”

She shook him off. “You tried to stop him, right? This isn’t your fault.”

“But-”

“It’s his.”

With no other thought in her mind, she ran facing the general, who was aiming his sword at the still frozen dragon.

“Would you shut up?” the general faced her, just holding his sword sideways. which she kept hitting over and over again.

“What do you think this is going to achieve? He’s already dead.”

Her hits became weaker and weaker. He simply stood there, scoffing at her weak attempts.

“I’m getting bored. Can’t you shake up things a bit-”

She grabbed his arm, pulling his body to her.

“You asked for it!”

Blue flames flared up within her hands, reaching the ceiling of the enormous room. She began choking him. As he gasped for air, he tried to get off her grip, but he already fainted by then. She dropped him on the ground. Picking his sword off the ground and breaking it in half.

She looks back at Nexus, who didn’t do anything to stop her. “Was that enough for you?”

She takes off her helmet. The world could now see her red teary eyes, “I wish,”

She then looks at the dragon, using its wings to try to wake Miroslav up. She carefully approaches, reaching out her hands to touch him. “Hey-”

His tail slapped her hand, “Hiss!”

He flies up, lava flowing through his teeth. With a gigantic blast of fire, a giant hole appeared in the walls. He flies through his, his wings brushing off the long leaves of the nearby trees. Only a small shadow of his could be seen amongst the dark violet sky.

“Miss."

He tried to catch up to Alice, who was going through the hole. Her steps were big and slow, her vision got blurry. She fell to her knees before completely getting knocked out. She escaped, but was it worth it?

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supremeinlilac · 3 years

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Don’t ask me what could have been

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2037

Warnings: Death, angst, idk its just a lil bit sad

A/n: I challenged myself to write a fic without dialogue, because my writing is super descriptive anyway, so I enjoyed writing this so much, you have no idea, even though it’s sad. Enjoyyy :))

For @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @shineestark I love you and you deserve the stars <33

Your death had been an accident.

Wrong place, wrong time. An unsettled ghost that you’d simply gotten too close to. Curiosity had indeed killed the cat after all, and now it had taken you too.

It was the first and last time Billie had requested you join her on a job, to watch her work. You’d eagerly accepted, excited to watch her work, slightly nervous about it being your first real experience with ghosts of any kind. She’d let you explore the giant house while she spoke with who she believed to be the problematic ghost, one of a small child.

It was in the bedroom you’d met the real ghost but he’d looked and sounded so real that you’d mistaken him for someone alive. His timidness soon turned to anger once he realised you weren’t there to held him, and you couldn’t even blurt out that Billie was just downstairs and that she could help. Everything happened so quickly. Too quickly.

Your last words were the whispers of her name but she had been too far away to have heard them. You’d slipped away without a goodbye. You still yearned for that goodbye, everyday you’d find the whispers of her name falling from your lips unconsciously, as if begging for her to hear you.

She couldn’t have helped. It didn’t help to ponder over what if’s.

Even so, you knew the memories of that day consumed her still. When she would wake from bouts of fitful sleep she’d reach out across the sheets for your comforting hand, your warmth, only to be met with none. She pined for your embrace, the way you’d coo her nightmares away with gentle kisses and your nails against her scalp.

The first smoking break she’d take at work, when the dew still clung to the delicately swaying grass and the mist of the morning had not yet cleared, she’d remember the way the droplets of tears would slip down the crease of your smile as your laughter rippled through your body.

Billie Dean couldn’t wear her pearls anymore. She couldn’t have them lay so close to her heart without the memory of you always sitting upon her lap, twirling them between delicate fingers and pressing a lingering kiss to her collarbone. Just as you always did when she wore them, which was why she wore them so often. She never got the chance to admit that to you. She wished she did.

They now lay untouched in a box beside the last book you’d been reading, unfinished. There was so much more of it you had yet to read. So much more life you had yet to experience.

When she’d open your wardrobe to the fading smell of your clothes, press a bunched up top in her fingers and bring it to her nose. Imagining that you were there, giggling and teasing about that specific habit, asking why she insisted on doing that when she had the real thing.

Had.

The past tense reminded her cruelly that you weren’t hers anymore. Weren’t anyone’s. Just weren’t.

No one was holding you, soothing you, making you laugh or stopping the flow of your tears. She ached to be able to hold you again. For one more time she would trade all her fame and success, didn’t care how cliché that sounded, because for you she would.

There were times she’d shrug on an outfit for a meal with her colleagues, turning as if to seek approval from you before her smile would faulter and her shoulders sag, and she’d have to fight herself to enjoy the meal in your absence. Her fingers pressing against her purse, and the knowing that your smiling photo lay just within. A photo she’d taken when you’d been unaware, that she’d kept to brush over and admire the way your cheeks would redden and crinkle, a silent laugh beaming over your face.

When she’d visit the house, you’d watch her from a distance. You didn’t trust yourself to be close to her. To be allowed to smell her, the lingering musk of her cigarettes and the sweet tang of her perfume.

She’d talk to you, telling you about her show and about celebrities she’d met on her travels and at events. You’d smile at her theatrics, the way she’d catch herself waving her hands around dramatically while in the throng of one of her stories.

She never spoke about meeting anyone. Not that you needed to be told that she wasn’t interested in dating. You could tell she’d thrown herself into her work to ease the insistent pain. The loss. You were proud of her.

On this particular day, the atmosphere was different. Eerie. You watched as she crossed the threshold into the property, hand lingering on the door a second too long. The other ghosts could sense it too, the change, and they scattered into the far corners of the house, leaving you alone with the woman who now ascended the stairs toward the bedroom she always zeroed in on, fingers tracing the wallpaper and cracked frames that hung.

You knew why she’d come. Knew why this time it felt so different. So final.

The thought of her leaving for good made your throat close up, sobs catching as you forced yourself to be stronger. To savour these fleeting moments in her presence as if they were to be your last. It was cruel to think that they would be.

In the bedroom she sat on the edge of the bed, as always, lips parting to hold a cigarette between teeth while she lit it with trembling hands. Oh how you wanted nothing more than to still them between your own, to comfort her.

You didn’t. Settling for simply watching her inhale deeply, the flickering trail of smoke that danced out of the crack in her mouth, dissipating into the air. You watched her lean to the side table to snub out the orange ember, fizzling out against the cool ash tray.

Approaching her, you knelt at her feet, the position you’d so often adopt when she’d had a trying day at work, head in her lap and fingers clutching at her pants while she’d stroke at your hair and relax. Your proximity to her felt so natural, like coming home. She felt like home.

She could smell your lingering perfume, as fresh as the day you’d died, enveloping her in your familiarity. Could feel the warmth of your breath against her neck, fingers reaching to brush over the goosebumps left. She swore if she just reached out, that she’d feel the curve of your jaw, a hand coming to rest upon hers as she’d caress your face.

She did, and her fingers curled around nothing, so she did it again, willing you to appear with the frantic clenching of her hand as if the more she did it the more likely you were to be. When her attempts bore no fruit, she let her arm drop limply to her side, a finality.

A small, sad smile painted her lips, and she suddenly looked so small and broken, like a child lost in the bustle of a crowd. Alone.

You wanted to reach for her too, to press the pads of your fingers against those lips, to tug at the edges and hold her until the smile was true again. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, an invisible string holding you back from her, one which you couldn’t sever.

You loved her.

You couldn’t, and wouldn’t shackle her to this house while she was alive, to you. You loved her more than the selfish desire that swarmed inside you to just appear to her and tell her to stay. You knew she would.

It was the best for her if she believed you weren’t here, so that the grief would slowly thaw and she’d be able to find peace. Move on. Maybe find someone else. Maybe.

Billie Dean Howard. Medium to the stars.

God how you wished that the stars in her eyes would sparkle like they did when you were alive, and not just with the sheen of unshed tears.

Billie Dean Howard was the stars. She was the stars and the moon and the sun, the universe painted perfectly in silk and cigarettes. The stars would fling themselves to the ground for her, bowing in her presence.

Scrambling to your feet and out of her way when Billie had stood, she walked to the wall at the far end of the room, her back to you and you wondered what she was doing. She’d never done this on any of her other visits. You didn’t have to wait long to find out why.

You heard the whispered goodbye, bit back the tears that threatened to fall at the finality of it all. Watched her rest her forehead against the cool wall, as she so often used to do to you, fingers pressed into the wallpaper as if she wanted nothing more than to be sucked into the very walls of the house, to be trapped just as you were.

Billie turned around, looking straight at you as if you were as clear and bright as the sun, before reaching into the bag on her shoulder. The shimmer of her pearls held up against the low light of the room. She’d brought them to you. She knew you were still here, watching. She knew what you were sacrificing for her freedom to leave and live and exist outside these walls.

You smiled. She was leaving a piece of her to you, a piece of you both to tie and strengthen the bond you shared, even in death. The faint clatter of the beads on the chest of drawers had you following her movements again, hands hovering over the line of her shoulder blades through the top she was wearing.

When Billie finally turned around, this was the closest you’d been to each other since your death. There was no way she could know your were there. Yet here she was, reaching up and cradling the air that would have been your face if you’d just let her in, as if you were as real as herself. As if she could see you, touch you.

As quickly as she’d turned, she was lowering her hands and gathering her things off the bed. She did it slowly, meticulously, as if rushing was breaking some unspoken rule. Unfortunately, she could only slow her movements so much, only put off her inevitable departure for so long.

You weren’t sure why, it wasn’t as if Billie was drawing any comfort from being in the room in which you’d died. You could see the pained way she’d glance at the spot she’d found you, the spot in which she’d curled herself into your body and cried for help to no one. The spot in which she’d learned how fragile life was, how quickly and cruelly it could be snatched from under someone.

You didn’t follow when she’d given a last fleeting look around the room, her footsteps echoed against the wood as she walked back toward the stairs to leave. Instead holding onto the image of her face in your mind, committing it to memory as the stairs creaked with her weight.

Out of the bay window, you could see the final sway of her hips, swish of her hair, golden now against the setting sun. She didn’t turn back to give one more pleading glance towards the house. You think that if she had done, she wouldn’t have been able to bring herself to leave.

You hoped that maybe, when the time came, Billie would return to you to die, wrinkled hands still holding the same warmth and gentleness that they always did for you. You hoped she’d remember the way your lips felt against her own, the way your bodies moulded perfectly as if designed for the very purpose of being close. You begged that she’d be drawn back in the final days, so that you could be together again, as you should be.

But for now, this was your goodbye. The goodbye you’d been robbed of.

taglist : @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @pluied-ete @extraordinarilycelestrial @toujours-ensanglante@mssallymckenna @okpaulson @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @amethyst-bitch @its-soph-xx @germansarechill @bluesxrgnt ,if you want to be added just send me an ask :))

#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #american horror story #ahs murder house

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pugleighimagines · 4 years

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Kol Mikaelson- Silence.

You began to stir from a deep sleep, a deep sleep that seemed to have rattled your brain with a pounding headache. You opened your eyes and frowned realising it was more than just your head that was pounding, your arms, face and legs. You realised something was wrong when you couldn’t move. That’s when you looked down at your body, you were chained to a chair. Highly confused as to how and why you were chained to a chair you jolted to try and escape. That’s when you cried out in excruciating pain as the cuffs dug deeper into your skin.

“Son of a bitch” you whispered to yourself as you tried to jump in the chair to move. You looked around the room through your blurred vision, blurry from the headache but also tears, it was dark and dingy, wooden panels over holes in the walls where windows would be placed. Gaps in the roof letting in tiny beams of lights, floorboards beneath your chair with stains of blood, and cobwebs in the depths of the walls. You hang your head feeling exhausted and miserable trying to remember how you ended up in this predicament, you began to walk through what happened in your head. The last thing you could remember was a vampire biting your neck in a surprise attack, Kol screaming as he witnessed this, then being knocked out. Oh how you loved being human leverage to the Mikaelsons. You had no one to blame but yourself, you demanded coming along to help defend the family. You had been working really hard with Alaric on your combat, athletic and reflex skills in order to protect yourself without having to rely on your love Kol, his siblings or your family. Falling in love with a 1000 year old vampire who at first was a selfish, cocky bastard turned loving, protective boyfriend was not in your 10 year plan but neither was Damon and Stefan showing up at your house, vampires who were your ancestors from many lineages ago. You lifted your head as you heard footsteps creeping up into the room where you sat in agony

“I’ve found her!” You couldn’t fully make out who was standing there, to you it was a fuzzy outline of a figure but the deep male voice made it picture perfect. Stefan. He ran over to you and began to remove the chains that shackled and tortured you, he kept asking if you were okay. That’s when he was pushed aside by a touch you were all so familiar with. A velvet touch that was so calming and tender, a touch that was usually roaming your body in loving embrace. Kol.

“Bloody hell y/n, what did they do to you love?” Kol spat in fury at you as he began to push back your knotted hair from your face. His hands rested on your cheeks for a while wiping your tears before he threw the chains from the floor against a wall in a fit of rage.

“Am I still beautiful?” you chuckled trying to lighten the mood which had turned very hostile due to Kol’s heightened anger. He turned back around to you with his usual smirk wiping away some of his own tears, thankful that you were alive but knowing you were trying to be brave and funny. You could see how upset he was to see his true love, the one love who accepted him for all his flaws covered in blood and in pain.

“Beautiful as ever” Kol replied, coming back over to help you out of the chair. He pulled you in for a cuddle, your head resting on his chest as you sobbed quietly. You listened to Kol’s heartbeat rapidly as he tried to contain his anger in order to tend to your needs, your need to feel in a safe place. Being in Kol’s arms was the exact safe place.

“I promise you Darling, I will find the vampire that did this and deliver his head on a silver platter to you” Kol whispered as he stroked your hair before he was ripped away from you by Damon, you watched as Damon had Kol held up against a wall threatening to kill him.

“Damon, please stop” you begged as Damon refused to listen to your pleas.

“Y/n wouldn't be in this position if she wasn’t in love with you, maybe you should do her a favour and walk away” Damon hissed as his rage was heightened. Damon had promised to protect you ever since he decided to come home, you were eternally grateful for his protectiveness but he was disapproving of you and Kol having relations calling it ‘ludacris’ and ‘foolish’ due to Klaus’ hideous intentions with Elena. Kol threw Damon across the room in retaliation, knowing you wouldn’t want Damon to get hurt. Kol instantly walked back over you, biting his wrist for you to drink from it in order to heal your wounds. You drank drops of Kol’s blood as you leaned into him, he continuously planted kisses on the top of your head in an attempt to soothe you.

Later that night you relaxed in a bathtub full of bubbles, located in your ensuite room at the Salvatore’s. Damon and Stefan had taken you home to clean you up after Kol agreed it was the best place for you to rest that evening. For a moment you closed your eyes and sunk into the water, upon opening your eyes Kol was sat in the bathtub opposite you. He didn’t say anything, the silence of him just being here with you was enough to make you smile. His eyes roamed your body before he carefully pulled you into him so you were face to face, his gaze never once leaving you.

“I’m sorry y/n. I never meant for you to get hurt” You placed your hands on Kol’s chest giving him a small smile, his hands snaked around your waist as he rested his forehead on yours planting a tiny kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Don’t apologise Kol, I knew what I got myself into when I allowed you to charm me” You giggled before slowly leaving tiny kisses along his neck and down his chest, Kol let out a small moan and chuckle as your silk lips pressed against his skin.

“I knew you wanted me from the moment you laid eyes on me” Kol proudly flirted as his hands traced up from your hips to your back and settled on your neck making your skin tingle with goosebumps. He steadily leaded your head from your chin close to his, placing his lips onto yours. Your lips were magnetic, neither of you stopping for air, the longer you kissed the needier it got. He pulled you into him so you were straddling him before pulling away breathless.

“I love you y/n, I will never let you be hurt again”

“Well if getting hurt leads to this, I want to get hurt more often” you raised your eyebrows, biting your lip, Kol knowing you were begging him for more. Kol grabbed you and flashed you from the bathtub and onto the bed...

#Kol mikaelson #kol x reader #kol mikaelson x reader #the originals #the vampire diaries #the originals imagine #the vampire diares imagine

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seijorhi · 4 years

Text

Complicit

A/N: As promised my (slightly late) Yandere Dabi/female reader fic 🔥

TW kidnapping, implied abuse, non-con

You’d come to like the silence in the empty house. It meant safety, peace, if only for as long as its occupants were away.

It wasn’t often. Most of the time they went out in pairs and smaller groups, all of them going at once meant that awful things were about to happen. It usually also meant that when they got back, at least one of them would drop in for a one on one visit. You tried not to think about that part too much.

In the early days, you’d spent those precious hours alone desperately trying to free yourself. The door to your room didn’t lock, there were bars on your window, yes, but they were old and badly rusted, they might be easy enough to break if you applied enough force. Hell, the front door was just wood, and not particularly strong wood at that.

But there was a reason that they hadn’t bothered to put padlocks on the door, why they didn’t worry about you alone in the big empty house - the solid iron manacle wrapped around your ankle and the heavy chain that bolted it to the floor. They hadn’t been cruel with it, or at least not as cruel as they could have been. The chain was long enough for you to access the dingy bathroom attached to the side of your room, even long enough to reach a little way down the hallway.

You’d broken your nails trying to pry yourself free, scraped up your hands working on loosening the screws that anchored the chain down. They never so much as budged. While everything else in the house was worn down and decrepit, the chain remained strong. You could still remember the fear that flooded your veins the night that Shigaraki had come back to find you frantically trying to jimmy the lock open. Your eyes had gone wide, your breath coming in short gasps as he stared at you, those bloodshot eyes flickering from your face to the shackle around your ankle, and for one awful moment, you wondered whether he’d kill you for it. Instead, he’d laughed, more of a snort really, rolled his eyes and just walked away. It’s why they didn’t bother locking you in anymore, they understood as well as you did, you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, not unless they wanted you to.

And sometimes they dragged you out, made you sit with them in that shitty, run down living room, stuck between Toga and Jin as they drank and gambled and laughed while watching that ancient, static-y TV. The whole time, you’d sit ramrod straight, hands clenched into fists on your lap as Himiko cooed at you, fingers twirling around your hair as she whispered awful things in your ear. But as unnerving as the sadistic little psychopath was, you’d much rather be stuck with her, any of them really, instead of Dabi.

He was the one who’d found you.

You weren’t a hero, you’d never wanted the spotlight, you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It was cold that night, and all you remembered was the smell of burning flesh and a whimpering cry echoing out as you walked the dimly lit streets on your way home. It was a bad neighbourhood, bad things happened. Most people would have kept walking, it was safer that way. Maybe it was selfish, but it was really just self-preservation - Good Samaritans didn’t seem to last very long in places like this. Keep your head down, ignore what you weren’t supposed to see and live another day unbothered by the seedy underbelly of the city. Too many innocent people had been hurt because they’d tried to help. Nobody would have blamed you if you just kept going.

But the man sobbed again, his voice cracking as he begged for help, and you felt that twinge in your heart. If he was hurt… you could help.

Help him, and leave quickly. If you were lucky, he wouldn’t even remember your face.

Against your better instincts you crossed the road and wandered down the darkened alley. You found him lying behind a dumpster, hunched over and moaning in pain. The bile had crept up your throat at the sight of him - half of his face was badly burned, the skin, what was left of it, was a weeping mess of black, red and pink. The burns - the twisted, melted flesh- continued down his neck and spread across his right side. It looked like someone had thrown a wall of fire at him, and you had a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as he moaned again, his one good eye rolling to look at you. The smell alone was enough to make your stomach turn.

“P-please,” he gasped. “Please help me.”

It was one thing to ignore the cries for help entirely, another to walk away after seeing the state he was in. With burns like that, he’d be lucky to survive a few agonising hours, if that. But one look, and you could guess who’d put him in that state in the first place. Blue flames always burned hotter, and you knew of only one villain with a Quirk like that on this side of the city. It was possible that he was just an innocent man who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, but on this side of town it was just as likely that he was no saint himself.

And yet you hadn’t even paused as you dropped to your knees beside him, ignoring the grime of the asphalt as you leant over and placed one hand on his chest, the other on his cheek. Nobody deserved to suffer like that. He shivered under your touch, his gaze flickering wildly from you to the dark alleyway, as if he half expected whoever had done this to come back.

Whoever it was was likely long gone, assuming the poor man would die before anyone else actually showed up.

“It’s okay, just… try and breathe, alright?” you told him, trying your best to muster a reassuring smile. Truthfully, he was probably in that much pain that it wouldn’t have mattered what you’d said or done, he was hardly in a state to fight back. “I promise it won’t hurt for much longer.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you reached inside yourself, tapping into that power and letting it flow through your fingers. Your hands began to glow, a soft shimmer like moonlight emanating as his flesh began to mold itself back together. You were so focused on the energy that poured from your hands into his body that you didn’t feel the weight of a cerulean eyed stare burning into your back from the fire escape above.

Most of the wounds you worked on were small, hardly life threatening. Minor cuts and burns, a few broken bones and torn muscles. Wounds like his took a hell of a lot more focus and energy. Your brows drew together, a bead of sweat slipping from your temple as you forced more energy through the tenuous bond - there was still so much damage to fix, but slowly his skin began to heal.

With a cheshire cat-like grin, your voyeur dropped silently to the ground behind you. For a moment he simply watched, watched as your Quirk healed the piece of shit he hadn’t quite finished toying with. At first he’d been pissed at the interruption, but this? Oh this was a treat he wasn’t expecting.

Loudly, he cleared his throat. “Now what have we here, hm?” he purred, chuckling as you snapped around to face him, pretty eyes going wide with such delicious fear. You didn’t even notice that your hands had slipped, or that the man on the ground had started to sob anew at the sight of the villain before you.

With his wild dark hair, bright blue eyes and swaths of rough, scarred flesh stapled across his arms, chest and face, he was unmistakable.

Dabi.

You could only swallow and gape as he sauntered over, ignoring his victim entirely as he studied you. “Isn’t it a bit late for a cute little thing like you to running around, sticking your nose where it don’t belong, babydoll?”

Absolute dread crawled up your spine, freezing you in place as Dabi knelt down on the ground beside the two of you. Every instinct you had was screaming at you to run as fast as you could, because you sure as hell weren’t gonna be able to fight him off if he attacked, and heroes had stopped patrolling here months ago. But even if you could move, it was pointless. You’d seen footage of Dabi’s fights before, hell, the man you’d been trying to save was a perfect, horrifying demonstration of his abilities. You could try and run, you might even make it back onto the main street, but his fire was quicker than your legs, and his Quirk far more lethal than yours.

So you just swallowed again, nervously licking your lips as Dabi leaned closer. “P-please let me go. I-I won’t-” but your words stopped in their tracks as the cremation user’s hand reached out and caught yours, the other conjuring up a ball of blue flames that flickered in the cool night breeze. You could feel the heat it gave off, licking at the bare skin of your face and fought the urge to cringe away from it.

His grin widened, his thumb brushing back and forth against the back of your palm. “You won’t what? Tell anybody?” he mocked, his eyes finally flickering down to glance at the half-healed man. A flicker of irritation passed through his eyes as he sighed. “Ah, it’s my own fault, I suppose. Never leave a job half finished.” He glanced back up at you, running his slowly up and down your shivering body and winked, “Still, not a total loss, right babe?”

“Wha-” you never finished your sentence, Dabi striking like a viper to knock you out. You never asked what happened to the man in the alley, but you could imagine well enough. Hopefully, he’d ended it quickly, but somehow you doubted it.

The next thing you remembered, you were waking up in that rundown old house, lying on a filthy mattress, a chain wrapped around your ankle. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dabi who walked in first, but Shigaraki. You could still vividly remember the way he’d simply strolled into your room, picked up the lamp sitting on the lone night stand between four fingers, his pinky hovering in the air.

Staring right at you, his pinky made contact and you watched with a racing heart as it turned to ash before your very eyes. In a calm, detached voice he explained exactly what was going to happen: You were going to be good and you were going to be quiet. If one of them got injured, you were going to heal them, no questions asked, no fuss. In return, he wouldn’t turn your body parts to dust one by one.

Such a generous offer!

In a trembling voice you’d told him that your Quirk wasn’t limitless. You could only heal so much damage before you passed out, if they were too close to death or if they’d lost too much blood, you weren’t going to be able to bring them back from that, and you couldn’t heal sickness.

And then you’d looked him dead in the eyes and told him in a trembling voice that if any one of them so much laid a finger on you, you’d wait until the next time one of them got badly hurt, and instead of healing them you’d finish the damned job yourself.

It was a bluff, of course it was a fucking bluff, but it was all you had. Your only hope of keeping yourself unharmed.

Tomura had just smirked, his thin, chapped lips baring across his teeth, and scoffed. “I can see why he likes you.”

Then he was gone, leaving to acquaint yourself with your new home.

For the most part, it wasn’t… awful. They mostly left you to your own devices, they made sure you were fed - you’d been surprised when the food they gave you turned out to be surprisingly edible. Oh, you never forgot that you were their prisoner, but compared to some of the other poor people they brought home…

Sometimes, they’d drag you down into the basement and make you heal their latest hostage, again and again and again and again, just so they could inflict more pain. They’d do it for hours, taking turns to hurt, to the point that whatever poor hero was trapped down there would start screaming whenever they saw you, begging through tears and snot for you to just let them die. And as awful as it was, and as terrible as it made you feel, there was some part of you that was just glad it wasn’t you tied down to the gurney.

There was also some part of you that wondered if at the end of the day, that made you complicit. Even so, when you were lying wide awake in your bed at night, that wasn’t what kept you up. No, it was the way that Dabi had stared at you, smiling like a cat that ate the canary as you did as your captors bid.

So yeah, you liked the nights when they were all off doing horrible, awful things, because it meant that you got peace.

But there was always a price when they came back.

In the eerie silence of the empty house, it was hard to miss the creak of the front door as it swung open just before. The rabble of their voices and laughter floated down the hallway - whatever they were doing, it must have gone well. Hopefully that meant that they’d have no need of your or your Quirk. Your eyes fluttered shut, your arms folded across your chest as you held your breath.

Keep walking, please keep walking.

The soft knocking at your door shattered those hopes. You opened your eyes open just in time to see Dabi slide into your room and shut the door behind him, that lazy smirk splayed across his face, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. No, it was the wide gash cut along his chest and the gruesome wet crimson stain on his white shirt.

“Aw, you stayed up for me, babydoll?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “You got hurt,” you replied blandly.

Dabi just chuckled, making his way over towards the bed. You scampered up to the headboard, burrowing into your pillow as he settled himself down far too close for comfort. He shrugged, inching closer. “You know how it goes. Some bastard got a lucky shot in,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t worry though, I took care of him.”

Bullshit. You didn’t believe it for a second. You weren’t sure how long they’d been keeping you locked up in here for - a month at least. In that entire time, Dabi had been the only one to come on an almost weekly schedule. It seemed like he wasn’t capable of going out to conduct League business without finding himself hurt in some way or other.

You’d seen him fight - with his Quirk he didn’t need to let others get close enough to even get a shot in, and yet every time, seemingly without fail, Dabi managed it. Maybe you wouldn’t have doubted the legitimacy of his injuries if it wasn’t for that stupid smug expression he wore whenever he sauntered into your room, like he was enjoying it just a little too much.

“C’mere. You can’t do it properly from all the way over there,” he crooned, wrapping one hand around your wrist and tugging. Knowing that it wasn’t worth the fight, you complied, crawling towards him as he shrugged off his jacket and shed his bloody tee, tossing it across the room.

You averted your eyes, your cheeks blushing a pretty pink that had Dabi chuckling again. “I can heal you just fine with your shirt on,” you muttered under your breath.

“Oh, I know.”

God, sometimes you just wanted to hit him in his stupid face.

He winked as if he knew exactly what you were thinking and beckoned with a single finger. “I don’t have all night, sweetheart.”

More lies, but you wanted this over quickly. Ignoring the heat of his burning gaze you crept closer still, almost sitting in his lap, rubbed your palms together just once before placing them on his chest, just below the still bleeding gash.

You could feel the pump of his heart, the steady rise of fall of his chest with every breath as your Quirk started to activate. Your hands began to glow and Dabi let out an almost pornographic moan. One of his hands reached out to clutch as yours, pressing it harder against his skin.

Your flush spread to the tips of your ears, but you ignored him (and the growing bulge in his jeans), squeezing your eyes shut and focusing instead on trying to force your Quirk to work faster.

Anything to get him out of the room. He always did it, acted like it was something gross and sexual whenever you had to heal him. You never felt good after helping any of them, but Dabi was the only one who ever made you feel dirty afterwards.

Maybe that was why you missed the heady lust that glinted in his eyes as his skin knitted itself back together.

“You really need to stop getting yourself-”

Dabi struck.

Quick as a whip he had you on your back, straddling your stomach with his thighs resting either side of you. Your hands, which had been on his chest, were both swept up in one of his and pinned to the headboard.

“Dabi, what the fuck?!” you hissed. “Let me go, you asshole!”

There was nothing but wicked intentions in his smile as he licked his lips and let his eyes roam. “Don’t be like that.” He ground his crotch against your stomach, leaning down so that his face was hovering just above yours. “Are you gonna try and fight me off, babe? Do you think it’ll do you any good?”

Shivering in repulsion, you considered his words. Would it? If you screamed loud enough, would any of the League come? And if they did, would they stop their friend or help him hold you down? Toga liked you, if her psychotic, twisted version of friendship could be considered as such, and Tomura didn’t seem to hate your presence. Twice sometimes slipped in to have a smoke and talk, but did that count for anything? You were still their captive and Dabi-

“I’m still gonna fuck you anyway,” he said with a lazy shrug.

Dabi was a fucking asshole.

“Get the hell off me,” you hissed instead, thrashing beneath him.

Dabi just laughed, “Nah. I’ve waited plenty. Y’know, I think I made a mistake bringing you here.” His lips brushed against your neck, kissing it lightly and nipping at the tender skin as he pulled away. “You remember the night we met? You were so terrified, shaking on the ground as you begged me to let you go. D’you remember, babe? You were so adorable! So damn cute,” he purred. “I wanted to fuck you right there in the alley for the whole fucking city to see, but I had other shit to deal with, so I took you with me. Figured I could keep you here if I could make ‘em think you were useful enough.”

The index finger on his free hand lit up like a match and you could only watch in horror as he slowly dragged it down it down the oversized tee they’d tossed at you. You felt the heat brush against your skin, but it didn’t burn - only the fabric did. “A healing Quirk like yours is rare, and it didn’t exactly hurt things that you such a sweet, submissive little thing. You never even tried to fight back, just like you’re not gonna fight me now, right, cutie?”

Shame flooded your core as he let go of your hands to pry the ruined scraps of fabric apart, his cyan eyes lazily trailing across your exposed chest. A bra, apparently, had not been considered necessary when they’d decided on your wardrobe. “Aw, dollface,” he tutted mockingly. ‘You’ve been holding out on me. Who knew you had such a cute, delicious pair of tits, hm?”

He leaned over again, shuffling down your body so that he could comfortably wrap his lips around one rosy, pink nipple. You stiffened at the contact, crying out in shock as his tongue swirled around the bud, alternating between licking and sucking on it. Even with his mouth occupied, Dabi grinned as you trembled beneath him, biting your lip to stifle any sounds. When he finally relented and let go, it was with a sick plopping sound that made your stomach flip and a wave of revulsion crash over you. But Dabi was far from finished, kissing, sucking and biting a trail across to you other breast, intent on giving it the exact same treatment.

You hated yourself for the warmth you felt pooling inside you, the slick that gathered between your legs the longer Dabi lavished your tits with attention. With one hand braced on the mattress beside you, his other reached up to cup its twin, kneading the soft mound in his greedy palm, tweaking your nipple just to hear you squeak.

“Please, Dabi,” you gasped, “Please stop.” You didn’t expect him to listen, but you begged him anyway.

But surprisingly he did, pausing in his attention for just a moment to let out an irritated huff. With one final bite, he righted himself, wiping off the excess saliva on his lips as he met your terrified gaze, his eyes hardening as they narrowed into a frown.

“It’s partially my fault, I’ll admit that, I didn’t think these idiots would get so attached.” Your shock must have shown on your face, because Dabi scoffed, “Oh don’t play dumb, doll. I’ve seen the way ol’ crusty looks at you when you’re not paying attention. He wants to fuck you,” he cut himself off, seizing your lips in a needy kiss. His tongue swept past your bottom lip, pushing into your mouth to taste you. He groaned as his lips moved forcefully against yours and you couldn’t help but shudder at the odd feeling of his scarred skin against yours. There was nothing sweet or tender about the way he kissed you. It was primal, violent, ravenous. When he finally pulled away, biting down on your bottom lip and tugging hard enough to draw a bead of blood, his eyes were blown wide - wild and terrifying. “And he’ll do it soon, too. He might be an awkward fuckin’ virgin, but there’s only so much wanting a guy can take before he just snaps.”

Each word out of his mouth sounded more ridiculous than the last, but still they made you feel sick to your stomach. Outside of forcing you to heal him once or twice, Tomura had never laid a finger on you, he barely spared you a second glance! Hell, he seemed to just barely tolerate your presence when the others dragged you out to play.

But what if he was right? What if he was just biding his time, waiting until your guard was down to attack?

Dabi chuckled, petting your cheek in a mockery of tenderness. “No need to look so worried. I’m not gonna let that creep touch you, or any of ‘em, for that matter. Y’see, I grew up in a pretty big family, had a few younger brothers and a sister who always wanted to play with my toys, but I never did learn to share all that well. You, babydoll,” he said, reaching down to toy with the drawstring of your pyjama shorts, a truly wicked grin adorning his face. “You’re mine.”

You licked your lips, your heart rate picking up as his other hand grasped at his belt buckle, the echoing clink of the metal sending shivers down your spine. “I think it’s time we left the League behind, don’t you, Babydoll? Make our own way in the world, just you ‘n me?”

You could only watch in frozen horror as he moved onto the zipper next, sliding it down with exaggerated slowness, revealing his boxer shorts and the straining erection of his cock beneath. Oh god. Oh god, please no.

“Dabi-”

He shook his head, the fingers that were tracing patterns across your stomach heating up enough to have you squirming beneath him as he pulled himself out, not even bothering to shed his jeans entirely. Your eyes widened at the sight of it, your mouth going dry. It was bigger than you’d expected, thicker too, with a prominent vein running along the underside and a noticeable curve. Pre-cum beaded at the head as he stroked himself leisurely, preparing himself for what was about to happen.

Like a terrified rabbit you started to shake, trembling beneath him. You wanted to yell, to fight and kick and scream, but it wouldn’t do you any good. There was no way he was going to fit that thing inside of you, no way it wasn’t going to be painful! Tears of sheer terror welled in your eyes as you silently begged for somebody to stop this. As if he could read your very thoughts, Dabi just winked.

“But first,” he said with a lewd moan, sneaking his hand underneath the waistband of your shorts as he continued his languid strokes along his cock. “First, sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you’re begging me to let you come.”

Whatever protests you had were swallowed up in a heated kiss as he violently tugged your shorts down. “You’ll learn to love it,” he whispered between ragged breaths.

#yandere bnha #yandere dabi #yandere dabi/reader #boku no hero fanfic #yandere my hero academia #jealousy #noncon tw #dabi #dabi/reader #smut #my writing #nsft #female reader #yandere dabi/female reader

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much-obliged-timothy · 3 years

Text

Heirs

I almost didn’t post this because I really just wrote it on a whim after my Dad Tim & Uncle Rhys shorts made me wonder what it’d be like for Tim if Jack had another kid. So, here’s a snapshot take on that idea!

Tim wondered when the bizarre life he was living had become normal to him.

There was the whole being a doppelganger working for the world’s biggest psychopath part of it, of course. But if you’d told him years ago he was going to be, essentially, a nanny for the psychopath he was a doppelganger of, he would’ve laughed in your face.

Now, he just scooped the beer he’d been drinking off the coffee table and tossed it up on the counter where kids couldn’t reach. He kicked his dirty laundry under his bed and took a quick look around to make sure nothing of imminent danger was left lying about.

He’d been horrified when Jack accidentally got Nisha pregnant. Even more horrified when Nisha decided to keep the kid. The last thing the galaxy needed was a mini Jack/Nisha running around.

The horror had grown to an overwhelming amount when Jack decided to use Tim to look after the kid when he was too busy to do it himself.

Tim had absolutely dreaded it, waiting for the kid to get old enough to use him as a punching bag or torment him the way Jack did. No way the offspring of Handsome Jack and Nisha Kadam would ever have a kind bone in their body.

There was a knock on the door and Tim called out a lazy, “Come in.”

The door opened and in bound a small boy who was a disturbing mix of Jack and Nisha. His tutor followed behind him.

“His homework,” the tutor said, handing a folder to Tim. “I had permission to take him on a bit of a field trip today, so he never napped. I’d either let him sleep an hour now, or else start that homework early and let him go to bed earlier than usual.”

“Jack’s got him for bedtime,” Tim said, taking the folder. “If he’s cranky by then, it’s not my problem.”

The tutor shrugged and left Tim’s apartment. Tim tossed the folder down.

“Liam!” he called as the boy took off for the kitchen. “Come start your homework.”

It was a minute before Liam reappeared with a juice box and a small bag of chips. He shook his head at Tim, thick black hair tumbling across his forehead.

“Nu-uh, Uncle Timmy! I gotta see Angel! I gotta!” He shot Tim his wide-eyed look, which seemed to work on every adult except Tim. “Please. I gotta.”

Tim pointed. “Homework. Or it’s my ass your dad will beat.”

He abandoned the wide-eyed look and instead settled for an imitation of Jack’s stern look. “I gotta see Angel.”

“Nah, kid,” Tim said. “You gotta do your homework.”

“I’ll bring it,” he tried. “Please, Uncle Timmy!”

Tim sighed heavily. But Liam didn’t get to see his sister often, and he knew Angel was probably his only sane family member.

“Fine. But you don’t get to throw a fit later when you’re tired and you have to finish your work,” Tim said, snatching the folder up, knowing full well that Liam wouldn’t touch it while they were visiting Angel but needing to try anyways. “Let’s go.”

A bright smile broke out on Liam’s face, so happy and pure. Tim hated that he still held out hope that the kid would be better than his parents someday.

But Liam launched forward, throwing his little arms as far around Tim’s waist as he could. “You’re the best, Uncle Timmy!”

“Yea, yea,” Tim said, taking his hand and leading him out of the apartment.

They went to the nearest fast travel station. Tim set it for the Bunker, being one of the only people authorized to fast travel there now that he was so often in charge of Liam.

It had been horrifying to learn Jack was going to have a child. Even more so to learn that his baby with Nisha wouldn’t be his first.

But Tim had adjusted slowly to Angel. As they flashed inside her chamber, he was heartbroken but used to the sight of her and the Eridium injectors hooked into her body.

This poor girl. Tim tightened his hold on Liam’s hand, wondering if he could secure a better fate for Jack’s second child.

“Timothy,” she said in surprise. “Liam.”

“Angel!” Liam released Tim’s hand to run forward. “Angel, I went on a field trip today!”

“Did you?” she said, so easily able to hide the jealousy she no doubt felt. She was trapped here, doomed to die without Eridium, while her little brother got to experience the world.

Liam nodded eagerly. “Uh-huh. We went to see skags! But they were, um, they were...d...d...d-something.”

“Domesticated?” Tim offered.

“Yea!” Liam was nodding eagerly again. “I got to see all kinds’a skags and stuff. And- And there was this one guy and one of the skags bit him.” He laughed at the thought, Tim and Angel sharing a look. The signs that Jack and Nisha were getting to him were glaringly obvious at times. “He started cryin’, like a baby.”

“Well, it probably hurt,” Angel said. “You shouldn’t laugh at people when they get hurt. It’s mean.”

He ignored that, still laughing. “I petted one! They felt all weird and gross.”

“You pet one,” Tim said. “‘Petted’ isn’t a word, kid. This is why you need to do your homework.”

Liam ignored that, too. “And there were baby skags! Mr. Wilson let me name one!”

“What’d you call it?” Angel said.

He was basically vibrating with excitement. “Angel! I named her Angel!”

Tim and Angel shared another look. He could tell she still held out hope for him, too.

“That was really nice of you, Liam,” she said softly. Tim couldn’t quite read the expression on her face; it might’ve been pain, or sadness, or love. Maybe it was all of them. He looked away rather than suffer trying to interpret it.

“They made her a collar with her name on it!” Liam said. “I’m gonna ask daddy to give her a bodyguard so she’s always safe.”

Tim closed his eyes, clenching his fists. He hated his own hope. He hated it so much, because he knew this boy’s kindness would never survive.

Angel had to take a moment before speaking again. “I hope she gets to grow up strong and see the whole world.”

“I’m gonna take a picture next time we see her. Mr. Wilson said I can see her again!” he said. “I’ll show you the picture.” He hesitated, looking anxious. “And maybe daddy will let you come see her. I’m gonna tell him she’s named after you. So maybe he’ll let you come with me next time.”

“I would love that,” Angel said, because it was honest and it was kinder than the reality of telling him why she couldn’t. “I really would, Liam.”

He pressed his hand to the chamber enclosing her. She pressed hers to it as well, so little separating them, so much separating them. His hand was so tiny, swallowed up by the image of hers against it. His bright blue eyes met hers, their most striking shared feature they’d inherited from the man who kept them apart.

“Tell me more about your trip,” she said, only the faintest tremor to her words. “I want to hear everything.”

His smile was huge. He went on and on about his trip and everything he saw, sometimes getting so excited that he’d repeat himself. But Angel never pointed it out, and neither did Tim. They let him carry on, swooping in with questions when he seemed ready to stop talking.

Finally, though, his lack of a nap caught up with him. Tim was sitting on the ground, and Liam went over, crawling into Tim’s lap as his yawns grew more frequent. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep.

“Please, Timothy,” Angel said quietly, her eyes fixed on her brother. “I have no chance. But he does. Look out for him.”

“I’m trying,” Tim said, looking down at the small child in his lap.

“When dad told me Nisha had a boy, I was so happy. It meant he would never share my fate,” Angel said, looking away from them both. “But he can use Liam in other ways.”

“Angel,” Tim said. “Did you pick his name?”

Angel nodded. “Yes. Dad let me pick his name.” She gave a weak smile. “He hated what I chose. But I just...It means ‘protector’. I want...I want him to be a force of good in the world, Timothy.”

She could’ve been, too. But Jack had locked her away and used her for his own selfish gain.

“I’ll do everything I can to keep him from being the fucking nightmare his parents are,” Tim promised.

That earned a surprised laugh from Angel. “Thank you. I wish I could take care of him myself. I’m glad Jack chose to trust you with him. You’re a good man.”

“That’s debatable these days, but I’m at least a better man than Jack,” Tim said. He bit his lip. “I can, uh, bring him here more often. If you want.”

That look in her eyes he couldn’t read again. “Yes. Thank you, Timothy. I would like that a lot.”

They fell silent after that. Angel watched her brother sleep. Tim thought about how unfair the world was.

He’d seen Jack interact with both his children. Tim believed Jack did love both of them. But Tim also believed that when Jack loved something, he felt compelled to break its will so he could control it. After all, a thing could never leave him if he shackled it to him.

Tim and Angel did not wake Liam, even when Tim’s legs fell asleep from the position the little boy was in, and even when Jack called to see where they were. Waking him meant bringing him back to Helios, back to everyone who had a plan for him, who wanted to chip away at his kindness to make way for cunning and cruelty.

Angel wanted to tell Tim everything, but she refused to put him at risk. She knew it would all be over soon; she would betray her father and help the Crimson Raiders defeat him. Jack would die, and so would she. She only hoped Tim fled with Liam and raised him.

Handsome Jack had stolen freedom and any hope of a normal life from Angel. She would not let him do the same to her brother.

So they sat in silence. It was the calm before the storm, and they knew it. But there was nothing to do now, so Tim stayed beside Angel’s prison and let Liam sleep, the only comfort he could offer the children Jack had damned.

#borderlands #timothy lawrence #Handsome Jack #borderlands fic #borderlands au #angel the siren #oc character #My writing #i need to stop giving video game characters little kids to raise

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capri-ramblings · 4 years

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Idk if anyone still remembers this but I actually forgot I finished chapter 3 about a week ago and didn't even posted it 🙂 still kinda confusing I think? But I promise, It'll come together soon 😤💖

[ R a p t u r e d ]

Chapter Three

The walls encasing your freedom began to simmer your frustration, and when a spiral staircase immerged from the wooden floorboards right across the room, your hands reflexively balled into fists.

Though when an unfamiliar face greeted you, they uncurled and from where you sat on the chaise beside your only window, your figure hunched over to pull your knees closer to your body. You'd been reacting so defensively lately, it almost felt natural now.

"Did they send you up to finally get rid of me?" Your words were harsh, a deep grating rage lacing each enunciation you spat out and yet the girl seemed unfazed as her lips curled into a small smile.

"I don't think they're that merciful, but Prince Leona has stated multiple times he'd rather you be dead."

"Who are you then?"

"An ally" She answered then rather hastily added, "If you'd allow it."

You scoffed,bitter and dry you almost sounded gruff and nasally.

"Like I allowed to be imprisoned and kept like an animal?"

The girl's expression softened and she gave what seemed to be an understanding nod before she placed both hands behind her back and stood poised before you.

"Boe" She said, "My name is Boe. As in the kind you'd use to hunt with but with an 'E' at the end because my nan felt it was creative." She sounded pleasant, to be honest,she looked decent as well, like a very familiar face you'd seen somewhere and yet nowhere at the same time. She wore her hair in two loose twin braids,her simple beige coloured tunic and short khakis gave her overall soft, feminine looks a rather boyish touch. And when she smiled it was genuinely given.

Despite yourself, Boe's appearance had you feeling a little less hostile and perhaps even a bit more hopeful.

"I made them an offer" You told her and again she nodded her head.

"To kill your brother in exchange for your freedom. Why?"

"Isn't that what they wanted? That bastard killed their beast and the only reason I'm here is because he's traded me off for his glory."

Boe seemed surprised at how you caught onto the situation at hand but you could see how calculative her eyes were. She may have looked pleasant but you weren't foolish enough to trust her, and if she knew your captives then chances are she wasn't just some typical servant running errands. They sent her up to you to talk, which meant they trusted her. And they didn't look like the trusting type.

"He and I aren't related by blood" You told her, scornfully. "It doesn't take much to piece up my being here, and I'll tell you now that he's not coming to save me. Not when he has every village folk singing his glory and the King welcoming him in his halls."

You sounded so dejected, Boe practically felt the heat of rage circulating through the room, but she also sensed sorrow. A sort of grief from the way you hunched yourself over. You've been through a lot, she could see that much.

"Tell me, did you ever believe the story your land has? It's history with the Faefolk and magic?"

You knew little. Simply enough to have your mind wander, but every child was like that, and when it was time to face the world and grow up, the stories you used to cling to before sleeping became just that; Stories.

So, you told Boe you didn't. You told her you knew the land has always been lavish, that it had always been easy to farm and make produce because it's forests were endless and green. It was because it was placed right in the centre of a growing land, wasn't it? Magic felt too foreign to have been a part of it all.

But then she told you of the story of a man planting a seed given to him by a generous Fae, and that the seed grew into a tree and another and another, until it formed a forest so lush and rich with life, people came to the land as a place of salvation. She told you that the Fae was the Mother Goddess Gaia and that she had made a pact with the humans who stayed in her grounds. They were allowed to grow and live as they wanted as long as her generosity was remembered. Thus the human built shrine after shrine in her name, and the land never once withered. Until weeks after your brother slayed the beast.

You sat there facing her,baffled and refused to believe in such a tale so easily, told yourself that no such thing could be possible...

Yet, the tower that kept you had nothing but a single window and a door that only seemed to appear when called. You remember how you tried climbing down through the window and how your makeshift rope snapped and you thought you'd fall to your death but instead you stayed in the air. Frozen.

As your hardened gaze looked to Boe and the faint light of the sun peeked through the window and into the room, you noticed the slight point of her ears and how in that specific lighting her features looked ethereal,as if she was carved out from a completely different mold.

You've seen those features before. A long,long time ago. The brief memory tucked behind the grains of your mind.

You must've laughed because Boe's expression shifted into confusion, and you ran your hands through your hair as a slight colour flickered to life in your eyes.

"You must think I've gone crazy. Wanting to kill my own brother but I've never seen him as family, and I'm sure he feels the same. It's the only thing we have in common."

"You'd really kill him for your freedom?" Boe asked, almost quietly.

You lifted your gaze,heavy and dark but driven with determination.

"Wouldn't you? It sounds selfish and maybe it is but hasn't he done the same to me? Ever since mother died, I was left under his care which meant he'd been shackled to me against his will and now I'm here and he's drinking in the castle." Your voice shifted, breathless and worn. You wanted to stand, to show to her that you weren't as weak as your captives had force you to be. That you meant what you said.

"I don't care about being kind and understanding anymore. I want to be released. I want to take back what I've lost and if that means killing Cyril and appeasing your Princes, so be it."

***

"You could be their Champion" Boe said as she stared you up and down,her gaze flickering with something you couldn't quite put a finger on. But she smiled when her eyes landed on your face, and a slight shade of pink dusted your cheeks. Though you felt it was because she had been nothing but open in her discussion and all you ever did was scowl and kept your distance.

And perhaps,you couldn't really be blamed for any of it given your own situation, but maybe it wasn't too harmful to act a bit more cooperative...

"A champion?" You repeated the words with your brows furrowed and lips down-curled.

Boe nodded her head.

"Faes often keep champions in order to settle certain affairs,like a representative or a tribute on their part without having to physically attend said affairs themselves, and unlike most dealings, this one has the exceptional perk of not being entirely enslaved by the Fae you serve under"

"...You mean if I agreed to being their... Champion? I wouldn't owe them anything?"

You know the tales of giving your thanks to the Gentry, and how such unfortunate humans fell to the mercy of the cunning creatures. A slight shiver ran up the length of your arm, but you fought the urge to look disgruntled, and simply crossed your arms.

Boe's smile widened a fraction.

"Yes, and I can't tell you why such a thing is possible in the first place, not because I don't want to but because I also do not know the reason behind it. It's said that this pact Faes have created with humans is a rare thing and a ritual they hold with great respect. If you so desire to kill your brother and gain your freedom, being the Princes' Champion is perhaps the best and only way."

"But how can I trust them to hold onto their end of the bargain? I might not have full belief in all your fae nonsense, but I know that whatever you are, your kind are known to be cunning and slippery!"

You felt like jabbing an accusing finger to her chest then,but you bit back the venom on your tongue and swallowed your carousing temper from erupting. Anger did no good in discussions after all. You learned that from years living with your step brother.

Despite it all however,Boe didn't seem to mind your frustration or hostility. In fact, she remained informative and calm, you began understanding why she had been sent up in the first place.

Unlike the Princes themselves, Boe didn't have any intimidation oozing from her demeanor. She came as a neutral party, neither to nurse nor make you submit.

Perhaps her words were the most trustworthy you'd have here.

Perhaps being a Champion was your only way out.

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theheartsmistakes · 4 years

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The Last Night Part XV

(A/N at end)

Parts I-XIV:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Lucie’s Aunt Cecily and Uncle Gabriel’s house was an old brick-fronted Georgian house near the railway station. A suite of severe bottle green horsehair furniture occupied the dark-paneled front room, and Lucie tried not to slide about as she waited perched on the edge of a curlicued sofa. Heavy curtains disguised the elegance of the large windows and stopped the sun from penetrating. A thick Turkey rug in shades of purple and brown added notes of affluence. As she waited, she grew quietly more agitated at the impending conversation she had been practicing since dawn with Grace Blackthorn, of all people. She wished she had the moral strength, or the disciple to stay away as Jesse had requested, but considering what he requested was frot with idiocy and a cruelty unlike himself, she decided to ignore it. Still, after three days of his absence, she could almost feel him smirking in disapproval behind her, but without the courage to face her.

Or perhaps he was being as stubborn as she was.

Impossible, she was far more stubborn.

At last a door opening in the paneling and Aunt Cecily with her dark hair curled and pinned to rest against the nape of her neck, arrived with Grace following behind her. The girl always reminded Lucie more of a ghost than her brother ever did.

“I’ll have some tea brought in,” said Aunt Cecily. “You girls let me know if there is anything else I can bring you.”

“Thank you,” said Lucie, without taking her eyes off of Grace, as her Aunt quietly left the room. When the door clicked shut behind her, Lucie removed her gloves one at a time and placed them on the wooden coffee table in front of her. “And thank you for agreeing to meet with me. My aunt says that you haven’t been accepting much company. Is that because they all know what a conniving monster you are and you’re afraid of what they’ll say... or because you’re embarrassed by what they know?”

“Can it be both?” Grace asked down at her folded hands.

Lucie tilted her head. “You don’t get to sit up here and feel sorry for yourself.”

“That’s not what—“

“Not when my friend is lying on her death bed because of your selfish actions,” she said, straightening her posture as the maid walked in with a silver tray of tea and freshly baked biscuits. “Would you like some tea?” asked Lucie with contempt.

Grace shook her head.

“What you did was utterly abhorrent,” started Lucie, as she poured herself a cup. “Shackling my brother with some dark magic when he was nothing but a stupid, idiotic boy, without the brains or know-how to refuse a beautiful girl; all these years just stringing him along like a lost dog to use for your entertainment when you felt like it. Then, when he was finally free of you; engaged to the most perfect of humans to walk the earth since Raziel himself, and you kiss him, in front of his betrothed.”

“I can explain,” said Grace, though she kept her eyes on her hands which Lucie could now see were trembling.

“I didn’t come here for shallow explanations,” said Lucie, surprised by her cruelty. “If you wish to confess your sins then find a church, I am not here to pardon you. I am here about your brother.”

Grace’s eyes lifted then and widened at Lucie’s words.

“Jesse Blackthorn,” said Lucie. “And don’t bother telling me that he’s dead and has been for years, I already know all of this. What I want to know is where you have his body and your plan for resurrecting him?”

Grace peered at her closely as if looking for signs of madness.

While Lucie would have much rather found this knowledge out herself, she’d come to realize after hours of laborious concentration that if she were going to bring Jesse back from the dead without the last breath of his life, then she was going to need some assistance. And since Jesse, the heartless coward, was no longer responding to her, she decided that the only person in the world that she could possibly alliance herself with was Grace. Grace who lived with the corpse of her dead brother for years inside a dusty old manor. She realized that he may never speak to her again if she did manage to raise him from the dead, but at least he’d be alive.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Grace. Still looking slightly confused. If Lucie didn’t know better, she might believe her blank expression.

“Since you’ve stained yourself an unbelievable liar and a pathetic loner, I’m going to tell you a secret of mine that no one else in the entire world knows aside from my awful brother, but before I disclose this information, if I find out that you’ve told a soul what I’m about to tell you, I will tell everyone what Cordelia and I walked into that night before she left,” said Lucie, looking Grace directly in her solemn silver eyes. “I will destroy your reputation beyond repair that not even Charles Fairchild will stand to look at you.”

Grace’s face dropped, horrified.

“I can commune with the dead,” said Lucie, and sipped her tea. “Your brother,” she willed herself to say his name, “Jesse. I’ve been talking to him for months now. He saved my brother’s life with his last breath that he’d been keeping for himself, for that I owe him more favors than I can possibly repay in this lifetime. I want to help bring him back.”

Grace, who wore an expression, as if Lucie had reached across the room and slapped her suddenly blinked after a long time of not. “Is he here now?”

“No,” said Lucie. “We’re not on speaking terms at the moment. He’s being stubborn. Though, I suspect he’s not far away.”

Grace released a ghost of a laugh that sounded more like a breath. “He’s always been quite stubborn, Jesse. Always.” She gave Lucie a solemn look that roused in her the slightest trickle of sympathy for the girl she considered her enemy. “But I’m afraid I cannot help you.”

“Why not?” Lucie rose as Grace did, preparing to block her path from leaving the room. “Don’t you want to see Jesse alive again? Isn’t that why your mother has been preserving his body all this time? You’ll just leave him to settle in-between realms when he so utterly deserves to return to this one?”

“Of course I want to see my brother alive again,” said Grace. “But you don’t understand what you’re asking.”

Lucy set her teacup and saucer down on the table and straightened again. “I know exactly what I’m asking. I’m not naive enough to think this isn’t dangerous or ridiculous, but I’m also desperate enough to believe that it will work. And since you’ve made yourself quite the social pariah of our small circle, I’m offering you something of a partnership.”

Grace smoothed her pale hands over her lace skirt, embroidered with snowflakes made of gold thread along the hem. “And what would James or Cordelia think of this partnership?”

Without hesitation, Lucie answered. “They needn’t know of it.”

Grace sunk back down onto the sofa, her quicksilver eyes focusing on the teapot in the center of the silver tray as she spoke. “My mother, she was an awful woman— is an awful woman. A tyrant and a bully, but she was not always that way. The world was cruel towards her since her childhood. Death always knocking on her door, but never for her, just for those she loved. It made her cruel and vicious.”

Lucie fought the urge to insist that she already knew all of this and move Grace towards the part where she agreed to help, but she reached for a biscuit instead.

“Death begets death begets death. Did he not tell you, my illusive brother? You cannot take from death without giving to death first and sometimes it takes more than its share.” Grace twisted a silver ring around her middle finger. “I’ll help you, but I’ll ask you first Lucie Herondale, only once and never again, what are you willing to lose to death for the return of my brother? What life are you willing to exchange for his?”

The biscuit turned to ash in her mouth and it took a great effort for her to swallow. Names flashed before her eyes: her mother, her father, James, Cordelia, Uncle Jem, her aunts, uncles, cousins, friends… But before she could answer, her aunt Cecily appeared in the doorway, a letter in the hand that rested at her side.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you girls, but your mother’s sent word,” said Cecily to Lucie. “Cordelia is awake and she’s asking for you.”

Lucie stared out the carriage window the entirety of the drive home, her hands fussing with the fabric of her skirts as London went by out the carriage window. Her thoughts flooded with what Grace had told her about bringing Jesse back from the dead. If what she’d told her was true, and she wasn’t entirely sure that it was, she’d need to find another solution and soon.

Why didn’t Jesse tell her? She wondered. Why didn’t he say anything? He must have known and instead of simply explaining what it would cost to bring him back from death, he ran away like a petulant child.

Recovering her composure by taking a steady breath through her nose and out her mouth, Lucie tried to think about her situation in a less objective way. It was a trick her father had taught her as a child when she was sad or angry. To analyze the problem in a larger, more empirical way would, he always said, improve her mood and her intellect at the same time. Though she now thought it possibly a very unsuitable response to a crying child, she often found herself rearranging her problems as if planning to present them in a small treatise.

Besides, she couldn’t think about her situation with Jesse now. There was a more pressing matter at hand. Cordelia was awake. And Lucie's intricate web of lies to keep Belial’s agenda unknown until she could figure out how to bring Jesse back to life and anyone finding out about her ability would only draw unwanted attention to herself. She needed to know how much Cordelia remembered of what Belial said to Lucie and how much she’d already told the others.

Lucie was out of the carriage before the driver could open the door for her. She gathered her skirts in her hands and took the marble steps two at a time and burst through the doors and nearly slid to a halt on the wood floors as her eyes befell Cordelia standing by the front window between her mother and Alastair.

All of Lucie’s worries suddenly vanished like steam from hot tea into open air.

Cordelia looked a vision standing in front of the floor to ceiling stained glass window, cut with colors to look like a lake with a shining angel hovering above it. Lucie took in every detail in her mind to use in her writing later: elegant in a pink silk dress that hugged her frame. Her vibrant red hair had been twisted back in a coronet with tightly wound curls hanging in her face. Her skin lush with color in her cheeks and her eyes were alert as they caught Lucie. A sad smile broke across Cordelia’s face as she looked upon her friend.

“I’m sorry!” Lucie shrieked and ran the rest of the way towards her friend with arms outstretched. Cordelia opened her own and welcomed Lucie without hesitation. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I should have been—“

“Careful, Lucie,” said Tessa sitting on the couch between her father and Uncle Jem. “Cordelia is still healing.”

Lucie cursed, which earned her another scolding from both of her parents this time.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated to no one and everyone.

Cordelia’s smile brightened as Lucie released her and stepped back. “It’s alright. I’m not as fragile as they’ll have you believe.”

“She is,” said Sona, who also appeared healthier than when Lucie had seen her last. “She won’t admit it, but she is.”

“I will mind myself perfectly,” promised Lucie, with a nod. She made a face only Cordelia could see and understand, earning herself a laugh from her oldest friend.

“May we have a moment,” asked Cordelia to the people in the room. “I wish to speak to Lucie alone, if that’s all right.”

Sona looked to be about ready to disagree, but Alastair took her hand and led her towards the doorway that went into the dining hall. Tessa, Will, and Jem followed after leaving Cordelia and Lucie alone.

“Should we sit?” asked Lucie. “Are you still in terrible pain?”

“Not so much anymore,” said Cordelia, as she lowered herself onto the sofa. Though the way she angled her body showed that she favored her left side some. Sitting beside Cordelia, Lucie could see what she could not before. The dark shadows underneath Cordelia’s once bright and vibrant eyes, now dull by what she’d seen; what had happened to her. The dryness of her once smooth lips. The veins in her neck and dark bruising along her chest that peaked out from the lace collar of her dress.

The memory of finding Cordelia collapsed in the sand at the feet of Belial, like a broken doll, assaulted Lucie. Her mouth went dry and her eyes burned as the sound of her screaming Cordelia’s name through the wind echoed in her ears.

“You look well,” said Lucie, her throat tight and unlike herself. “You didn’t miss much while you were asleep. We were all scolded something terrible for going after you without informing the adults. We’re all on a strict curfew and cannot go out in large groups unless it’s for something mundane.” She reached forward and took a biscuit from the center of the coffee table. She took a bite and chewed for a moment, dusting the crumbs from her skirt, thinking of a way to approach the Belial subject without frightening Cordelia back into a coma. “Probably for the best. My brother and his band of— whatever they call themselves— can use a little restriction.”

Cordelia tensed a fraction, but enough for Lucie to notice. She quickly went over her words to see what she might have said and realized that her delinquent brother was not amongst the people in the room when she’d arrived.

“You haven’t spoken to him?” asked Lucie.

Cordelia shook her head.

“Good,” said Lucie. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Consider me your personal guard. I will shield you from his presence at all times.”

Cordelia’s mouth twitched at the corner. “Thank you,” she said, “but I think it’s important that we talk if I’m going to be staying here a bit longer with my family.”

“A bit longer?” Lucie inhaled. “You’re still leaving for Alicante?”

Cordelia nodded. “Once everything settles down and I remember what it is that happened to me inside the shadow realm with your— with Belial.”

Lucie could not restrain a slight start of shock. “You— you don’t remember anything?”

Cordelia only shook her head, those intricate curls falling across her face as she looked down at her hands. “I only remember leaving the institute with Alastair and then everything goes dark. Brother Zachariah said that it’s not uncommon for memory loss and that what I might have suffered was traumatic.” She said the word as if she didn’t quite trust it. “It’s the mind’s way of protecting itself. They told me that you were there. That you rescued me.”

Lucie could hear her heart beat in her ears as she met the expectant eyes of Cordelia, searching for the pass that would free her of London, James, Belial, and the memories that came with all three.

When Cordelia left that fateful night after finding Grace and James in the throws of passion, and Cordelia told Lucie that she was leaving with Alastair to return to Alicante indefinitely, she’d been overwhelmed with a dreadful loneliness that she often felt as a child when James would dismiss her to play with the other boys including Anna, and all Lucie had were her stories. While stories were a wonderful place to spend her time, some intrinsic part of her craved companionship, if not someone to share her stories with.

And then she met Cordelia, and not only did she have someone to share her stories with, but she had someone to fill her stories with. She wanted to write many more adventures of the beautiful Cordelia; their adventures as parabatai, when it was unexpectedly ripped away from her.

And now, she was being presented a second chance. But, as with everything, it came with a terrible price.

“Lucie?” said Cordelia, as if she’d been saying it for some time. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Lucie nodded and reached to take Cordelia’s hand in her own.

“They said that you brought me back from the Shadow realm?” asked Cordelia. “How? What did Belial say? Why did he want me?”

“He was after James.” And there went another strand to the web of her lie. Lucie released Cordelia’s hand and smoothed out her skirt. “I suppose word got around of your engagement. Apparently even in the Shadow Realm, engagements announcements do not go unnoticed. He thought that if he captured you it would draw James out of hiding, but instead I arrived. I tried to kill him, but he cannot be killed by earthly or heavenly weapons, and since I have nothing to offer Belial, he threatened to kill us both and return our corpses.” She went on perfecting her story as if she were writing at her desk and not lying to her friend. “He was about to do it too, but I managed to convince him that wasn’t in his best interest. If he killed me then he’d never gain access to James. So, he settled for your life instead. You did a wonderful job convincing him of your death. I, for a moment, believed it myself. The next thing I know, we were falling through what appeared to be a dark tunnel and when I opened my eyes again, we were back on the street. James found us moments later.”

Cordelia frowned. “He was after James?”

“Yes,” said Lucie, taking another bite of her biscuit. “Poor company that brother of mine. Biscuit?”

Cordelia shook her head and while she asked no further questions, Cordelia seemed to ponder Lucie’s story.

The door to the foyer burst open followed by a cacophony of loud voices and even more obtrusive footsteps as Thomas and Christopher walked into the Institute, arguing with someone over their shoulder about being five minutes late.

“Thank you for this information, Thomas” said Matthew following behind them. “Years of academia and study and I never did manage to learn how to tell time.”

James emerged last, his hands tucked in his trouser’s front pockets, as he extended his leg back to close the door. A smile curved on his mouth that did not reach his eyes then wandered towards the sitting room where Lucie remained beside Cordelia, watching her friend intensely.

Cordelia stood, her dress falling around her ankles, her fingers gliding over the fabric as she said, “Hello James.”

(Author’s Notes: Hi guys! I hope you’re all doing well. Thank you for the kind words on the last part. I missed writing/reading with you guys and I’m so thankful that you all came back to The Last Night. I have a new obsession, I’ve finally read Sarah J Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses. Have you all read this? Am I super behind? It’s amazing! I love that story so much, so if my blog is suddenly splashed with ACoTaR, then ya’ll know why now. It’s just SO good! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please hit that reblog and spread it around, give it some love, leave me a comment about what you thought, and follow along for updates. Okay, love you guys, bye! Next update Sunday 9/13)

#the shadowhunter chronicles #The Last Night #jordelia fanfiction #jordelia #james x cordelia #james herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #lucie herondale #jesse blackthorn #grace blackthorn #the last hours #chain of gold #cassandra clare #Matthew Fairchild #christopher lightwood #thomas lightwood #tessa gray #alastair carstairs

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morosoro · 3 years

Text

Short Rumbelle fic by me, Trash-000

AO3 Link here if you’d prefer to read it there.

They sat together in silence under a clear night sky in early spring, a picnic blanket beneath them and the light of the full moon overhead. The world was quiet save for chirping of the crickets and the occasional calls of local owls. It was peaceful.

He sipped tea, kept warm with magic, from his chipped cup and watched his little maid out of the corner of his eye. She sat with her legs tucked neatly under herself, a book of folklore open in her lap, the pages being illuminated by the soft glow of an oil lantern she’d brought out with them.

He watched the way her teeth captured her lower lip when she lost herself in the words, the way her delicate little hands caressed the pages like a lover. He watched in silent awe of her.

She looked so perfect in the low light, so beautiful, ethereal even. With the stars dancing in her eyes she looked akin to a goddess, and he felt entirely unworthy of being in her presence. He was but an ugly, evil, little beast afterall. Whatever was she doing with him?

The way the shadows contoured her features, threatening to swallow her up suddenly seemed awfully poetic in his dark old heart.

He shouldn’t be holding her here with him. He should’ve let her go months ago. She was far too special to live her life serving a monster such as him. He would only ever hinder her, perhaps even hurt her. She deserved so much better than this shit-end deal he’d offered her. While her people flourished she was trapped. She should be free to live her life, not shackled to him.

But then in moments like these, when she noticed his gaze and she smiled and blushed… When she giggled as he made an act out of not looking her way anymore. When she made playful, silly faces in his direction... Well, when that all happened the selfishness in him never wanted her to go. It wanted to bottle her up and keep her forever as his own little beacon of hope and happiness, his flicker of light in the ocean of darkness he called a life.

So when she started talking about shooting stars and the stories behind them, of wishes and miracles, pointing out details in the pages of her book, he took in every word. Moments and memories were something he knew he could keep without shame. This exchange here in the grass on this moonlit night, the passion in her eyes, the joy of learning and discovering in her every movement, the lack of disgust for him. He would keep it with him always, even if he sent her far away. Even if she ran.

“They say the first thing that comes to your mind when you see a shooting star is what you want most in this world. It’s your wish.” She stated, sounding excited by the idea. “What do you think yours would be?”

He hardly had to think. He knew the darkness and depth of his own mind almost as well as he knew how to spin. He knew what he would always want. “More.”

“More?” She queried, head tilted slightly to one side, and by hell, did she ever look sweet and innocent like that. “More what?”

He chuffed out a short displeased breath. “Just more. I always want more. It’s never enough.” He told her truthfully, tone short and unwavering. It was something he’d noticed quite quickly after taking on the curse, it was never satisfied. He was never satisfied. No matter how much power or how many things he possessed. It was maddening.

Belle hummed in response, but asked no more questions. Instead she looked up to the sky and smiled softly at the moon. “I think I would wish for ‘more’ too.” She revealed after a moment’s consideration. “More stories, more adventures… more sunny days and reasons to enjoy them.” She sighed wistfully. “I think most people want more of something or another, and I’m sure you know that too. You make deals with people looking for more all the time.”

She paused briefly, glancing back towards him and offering him a small, supportive smile. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting more. I think it’s a part of the human experience.”

He stared back at her in wonder and awe once again. She really was too good for this world, too good for him. So so bright and brilliant and wonderful. She was so filled with thoughts and insights, things he would’ve never considered connecting together on his own. She was full of optimism and hope.

She was everything he wasn’t.

He steeled his expression, his usual protective mask of indifference slipping into place as he turned to look toward the sky again, like she had earlier. “Perhaps…” was all he said.

He felt her gaze leave him after a moment and return to the stars, and it was then that they both witnessed it, a streak of glowing light running across the sky.

A shooting star. How lucky.

And to his surprise his first thought was not ‘more’. It was of Belle.

And more surprising still was that just as he was beginning to berate himself, to call himself a wicked fool, to crush any hope that threatened to claw its way in… he felt the brush of her hand over his.

He looked down to the blanket top where his ugly, clawed hand rested as he’d been leaned back and he saw her soft, pretty little fingers caressing it. Her palm covering and enveloping his own, holding him with care like she did her books, like she would a lover. He felt his heartbeat stutter.

Could she…? Could they…?

“I hope your wish comes true, Rumple.” She sighed again. “Whatever the ‘more’ be, I think you deserve a little happiness.”

#rumbelle fic #dark castle #fluff #I think it’s fluff idk #light angst #rumplestiltskin #belle french #ouat #once upon a time #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot

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ladypurplejanewrynn · 3 years

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Beauty and the Beast (Andujane version) chapter 1

Once upon a time, there was a Kingdom ruled by a powerful king named Varian. The king was a very skilled fighter and a great ruler. One day, the king decided to go for a ride on his horse and met a really beautiful blond woman on the way. She was wearing a simple dress and had her hair down. He asked her for her name. She smiled and answered him that her name is Tiffin. The two of them quickly became friends. They start it spending more time together until one day they fell in love with each other and confessed each other their love. A few years later they got married with each other and they lived happily as husband and wife. And one day the queen got pregnant with triplets. They both were happy about starting a family. Unfortunalty their joy didn’t last longer. After 9 months, Tiffin gave birth to the 3 children, but she lost too much blood and she passed away. Varian felt a lot of pain after losing his wife. He named the first child Anduin, the second one Sophie and the last one Austin. It wasn’t an easy task to take care of the children, especially if there was 3 of them. The kids grew up healthy and well. Anduin was a blue eyed kind hearted blond boy, willing to help anyone in need. Sophie was a blue eyed lovely girl, loving challanges and to goof around. As for Austin, he was blond like his siblings with the diffrence that his eyes were in a dark shade of purple. He acted a lot diffrent than his two siblings. He was arrogent and selfish. He didn’t care about anyone, not even his own family. He even once had a serious fight with Anduin and Sophie had to separate them.

One day, king Varian went on the battlefield to fight off their enemies and has put Anduin in the charge while he’s away. The battle end it up with success. However, while the battle one of the enemies used a poisoned blade giving a deadly injury to the current king. Varian came back home, but days by days he was becoming weaker until one day, when he was laying in his bed, as his death was coming closer, he crowned Anduin as the new king of the Kingdom. Austin was very unhappy about hearing that. "Why his brother and not him? He deserved it more than him" thought the prince. Varian died a few days later. Everyone was at his grave. Everyone beside Austin. The prince was busy planning revange on his own brother. After hours of searching for a book in the library, he finally found the book he was looking for. The Book of the Void magic. Austin studied the whole book and at night he sneaked out of his room. He took his gryphon and flew to one of the most darkest places in the world in search of an artifact called "the wand of the Old Gods". Once he found it, he made a plan to assassin his own brother, when the time is right. This way, he wanted to take over the control of the whole Kingdom. The next day, when Anduin was all alone, Austin approched him and attacked. Luckly Anduin noticed him and dodged the attack. "By the light’s sake, what the hell are you doing Austin?" asked the young king. "I am taking your place on the throne. That’s what i’m doing." answered the traitor prince as he casted a spell with the wand, making two tentacules grabbing his brother by the arms. "Now that i got you in place, is time for me to get rid of you once and for all." said Austin as he smiled, grabbing a very sharp blade and approching his brother. Anduin struggled to get his arms free. He used the light to make them let go of him. Just before Austin menaged to get closer, he got himself free and dodged another attack. He used the light to blind his brother and kick the wand out of his hand. While Austin was on the floor, covering his eyes from the pain, Anduin took the wand and broke it.

The guards came in as they’ve heared loud noises of the fight. Anduin ordered them to arrest Austin and throw him in prison for the time being, while he decides his punishment for the betrayal. Austin was locked for a week. One day, he got summoned to the throne room by his brother. "Austin, you have commited an unforgivable crime against the king of Stormwind. As your punishment i banish you from the kingdom for eternity. And you shall never come back." said Anduin. "What? You can’t do that. I am your own brother. How dare you?" asked the traitor prince. "Actually i can. Guards, take him away, please." said the young king. The guards took Austin by the arms and dragged him away. "This is so unfair! I should be king instead of this two goody two shoes. It isn’t over brother! I promise I’ll have my revange." shouted Austin while being dragged away. After the traitor prince has been banished, the young king went to his room. A moment later Sophie joined him to comfort him. "Hey, i know you feel bad about the whole Austin banishment. But maybe that’s for the best? The two of you always were fighting anyway." said the princess. "I know dear sister. I know. The thing is, i thought that maybe one day we would come to agreements and improve our relationship. But instead, it got even worse then it was before. I wish, we could live as a happy family. First mom died after giving birth to the three of us. Then dad died because of the deadly wound that was unable to be healed. And now our brother’s betrayal. There’s only the two of us left. And sooner or later i will have to find a woman to be my queen." said Anduin. "And what’s the problem with finding yourself a girlfriend?" asked Sophie out of curiousity. "The thing is that i don’t feel ready. And even thought i have a choice between arranged marriage and marriage out of love, I want to marry someone I will truly fall in love with. Just like father did. It must be someone special. Someone who will be kind and caring. Soft and loving. Someone who will be fun to talk too. I don’t want to marry someone cold, selfish, snobby and boring." answered the king. Then an idea came in Sophie’s mind:"What about we organize a ball? This way you’ll get to spent some time with ladies and you’ll get to choose the one you’ll be interested in." "Do we even have to do this?" asked the king. "Oh come on! Don’t be such a buzzkill. Even if you won’t find the lady of your dreams, at least you’ll get to chill and relax a little. Isn’t that right?" asked the princess with a smile on her face. "Alright, you might be right. I kinda need some more time of relax and chilling. Let’s do this then." said Anduin.

Meanwhile, Austin was already planning to get revenge on his brother. He decided to pay a visit to the banshee witch Sylvanas. He made a deal with her. She would cast a curse on his brother and the whole kingdom of Stormwind. And in exchange he would find and give her an artifact that would bring her back to life. While the traitor prince went in the search of the artifact, the banshee went on her way to the kingdom. Meanwhile, the party start it. A huge amount of ladies were flirting with the king, trying to get his attention but none of them seemed to be his type. The young king had a few dances with some of them. But he found them boring or self-centered. A moment later he went to sit on his throne. "What’s wrong brother? You seem to be bored." asked Sophie. "All these ladies are very pretty. But none of them seems to be what I’m looking for. They’re all just seems interested in me because I’m the king. I feel like they don’t really care about getting to know who I truely am." answered Anduin. Suddenly the music stopped as a flying figure appeared in the room. "Ah, the young king of Stormwind. I was looking for you." said the banshee. "Who are you? And what do you want from me?" asked the king as he got up from his throne. "Oh, is nothing personal. You don’t have to worry." said the witch. "What does that even mean?" asked Anduin. Suddenly a pair of chains caught him by the wrists. "What the...?" asked the king as he struggled, trying to free himself. "Leave my brother alone you witch!" shouted the princess rushing at Sylvanas. But another pair of chains shackled her as well. The guards made an attempt to fight off the witch, but they have gotten overpowered by the chains. The visitors start it panicking and tried to leave only to get caught by the chains as well. "No one is leaving till I’m done." said the witch and start it casting a spell. Everyone got blinded by a dark purple light. A moment later Anduin woke up. He was on the floor and the witch was already gone. He looked around and instead of his subjects, he saw living objects looking at him. He felt really weird. He felt that something has happened to him as well. Suddenly a candlestick approached him:"Anduin, my brother is that really you?" Anduin thought a little:"Did this candlestick just called me it’s brother? Wait is this...?" He looked at the candlestick again:"Sophie, is that really you? What happend to you? What happend to everyone?" Then he noticed his voice have gotten a bit deeper. "Looks like the witch cast it a curse on our kingdom. She turned everyone into an object and looks like she turned you into a beast." said the princess. "A what?" asked the king and rushed to the closest mirror. What he saw horrified him. He saw a beast that looked like a werewolf and had the blond fur. He couldn’t believe that it was him. "How...how shall I reverse all of this?" asked he himself. He noticed a small note sticked to the mirror:"If you want to reverse the curse, you have to find the true love of your life. Only the kiss of the true love will reverse the curse." Austin kept his part of the deal and gave the artifact Sylvanas was looking for.

#world of warcraft #anduin wrynn #king of stormwind #purplejane sparkdust #oc x canon #purplejane wrynn #queen of stormwind #sophie wrynn #varian wrynn #tiffin wrynn #wow #fanfic #anduin x purplejane #beauty and the beast #sylvanas windrunner #andujane

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queenof-literature · 4 years

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I'm asking again because I absolutely adore your work! You write the Links telling stories amazingly. It truly feels that Wild was telling the stories. Could write the all Links talking about their loves. It would be mix of fluff and angst because we have Sky and Time, who are both happy with their respective partners, but we also have Wild, Twilight, and Legend who I imagine are all lost in their own ways. I have not played all the games so feel free to interpret how you wish!

Hi again! Thank you! I'm so glad you like my work! I haven’t played all the Zelda games either, but I have watched many playthroughs. I have played Skyward Sword, Twilight Princess, and BOTW, and I’m going to play Link’s Awakening after I’m done with Hollow Knight, because unfortunately that’s all I have access too with the game systems I have. But I have watched playthroughs of the rest! So thank you for letting me have my own interpretation because I see a lot of the relationships besides the ones you mentioned and more platonic. I think Wind and Tetra would be sweet but they’re twelve during the game ya know? I apologize there is less storytelling in this one, but I feel a lot of them wouldn't be quite ready to spill all the beans. Hope you enjoy!

Time didn’t really know how it had descended this far into chaos. One moment, Warriors was telling a tale of a ‘grand exploit’ in a tavern in his Hyrule, the next, there was screaming and yelling and multiple ‘innocent young ears’ being covered. Time thinks it all started when in the middle of the story, Warriors was telling them about a beautiful young lady he had met, to which Legend groaned and rolled his eyes. Instantly Warriors’ smile grew sharp and his eyes filled with teasing and mischief. Time knew that look, that was the look that promised Warriors was about to do anything to make the other boy uncomfortable, even making up the rest of the story if he had too.

Yes that’s certainly what began this quick but entertaining descent into Hell. Warriors began to tell how this young woman just ‘couldn’t keep her hands to herself’ as he stared right into Legend’s soul. Of course, Legend, not one to back down from a challenge, began yelling about his experiences in the tavern, also probably made up, and started screaming about a young lady who ‘really liked his magic items’ to which led Sky to yelling at both of them to keep quiet as he covered Wind’s ears. Wind then laughed and covered Hyrule’s ears, who giggled and reached up and covered Sky’s ears to create a Triforce of protecting the innocent. Twilight, seeing this happening, smirked and covered Wild’s ears to which he fought vehemently but Twilight wouldn’t budge. Four was shifting expressions so fast it was hard to keep track, from amused, to annoyed, to horrified, to resigned, and then a weird combination of all of them.

Legend and Warriors continued screaming at each other, and as entertaining as it was, if Time didn’t stop them soon they would be screaming all night.

“Gentleman. While I’m sure many of us enjoy hearing your exploits, I think the entire forest doesn’t feel the same way.” Time voiced, causing Warriors and Legend to blush and grumble while the rest of the group laughed.

“Yeah, yeah we get it Old Man. You have a beautiful and loving wife at home.” Warriors teased back.

“Your point?” Time smirked.

“Yeah Warriors, just cause you don’t want to settle down don’t mean we feel the same way.” Twilight called from the other side of the campfire as Wild finally fought his way out of Twi’s strong hold.

“Who said I never want to settle down, goat boy?” Warriors called back.

“You called my wedding ring a shackle.” Time chuckled.

“Well sure it is. But who knows if I want a shackle one day.” The camp laughed at this.

“This mean you got someone Captain? Perhaps your Zelda?” Legend teased.

“No, my Zelda is amazing, and badass to boot. But I don’t really feel that way about her, at least not now.” Warriors smiled.

“Yeah, same with my Zelda. I’m not sure how she feels about me anyway.” Hyrule sighed.

“Same here.” Legend said simply, though the group could see a haunted look in his eyes. No one mentioned it, Legend would speak up if he wanted to, and most likely not in front of the entire group.

“You don’t have to marry Zelda. I love my Zelda but not romantically.” Time stated gently to Hyrule.

“Yeah I know. I guess I’m still kinda shocked you got married Time.” Hyrule blushed when he realized how bad that sounded as Warriors held back a laugh disguised as a cough. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that I always thought heroes didn’t really settle down. They kept saving and saving.” Hyrule finished with his hands up in a placating manner, but Time wasn’t offended at all.

“I know buddy. As I said, it took me years to see through that lie. I’m happy with Malon, and I’m out here with you boys too. You can take time for yourself too, it’s not selfish.” Time smiled softly at Hyrule. Although he didn’t mean to, Time’s words sent a stab of guilt through some of the other members. He should be home with his beautiful and loving wife. Not here on another quest after he had done so much already. But they sure were grateful to have him.

“What about you Wild?” Wind asked. “You and your Zelda seem really close from what you’ve told us.”

“Um, well I’m not sure.” Wild rubbed the back of his neck. “I love her, and I know I did before, but I don’t know if I can imagine us you know, kissing and stuff.” Wild blushed as laughter roared up.

“Very elequantly put, Wild.” Warriors cackled.

“You got plently of time to figure that out Cub.” Twilight clapped a hand on his shoulder as the laughter died down.

“What are you laughing for, Wind?” Warriors ruffled his hair as Wind knocked his arm away. “You always talk about Tetra.” Warriors smirked as Wind sputtered and flushed a deep pink up to his ears.

“Tetra’s awesome! I wish she were here to kick your ass for saying that!” Wind yelled as he smacked Warriors’ shoulder.

Four elbowed Sky. “What about you lover boy. You wanna talk about your Zelda?” Four teased as Sky’s face lit up.

“Ugh don’t get him started he won’t shut up for the rest of the night.” Legend grumbled. But it was too late. Sky had already begun.

“She’s amazing. She can play the harp and sing like Hylia herself.” Sky started with a dreamy look on his face. “One time before the Wing Ceremony, she thought I was being lazy and pushed me off of Skyloft to try and get me to call my Loftwing, but he had been put in a place he couldn’t reach me. So she had to save me herself.” Sky still had that dopey look on his face as his brothers snickered at his story.

As Sky rambled on about his Zelda, Twilight’s eyes had grown clouded, staring at the stars peeking through the warm orange glow of the coming twilight. Wild would catch him doing this sometimes, and it always looked like Twilight was having a bittersweet memory. Wild glanced over at Time, making sure he noticed too, he was Twi’s mentor afterall. Time made eye contact with Wild and gave a small nod to acknowledge he was on the same page Wild was. Before either of them could do anything, Warriors spoke up.

“What about you country boy? You have someone?” Warriors asked and the rest of camp perked up. Twilight had never talked about his love life, besides a few jokes about ‘his heart being shattered’. Hopefully he was exaggerating…

“Uhh no.” Twilight responded after snapping out of his daze to find the entire camp looking at him curiously.

“Does this have anything to do with the princess you talked about when Wild showed us his scars?” Four asked carefully, trying to portray that he wasn’t trying to overstep any bounds.

“Yeah I guess so…” Twilight trailed off. Legend felt something cold in his heart at this conversation. He could tell Twilight lost his love, because he had seen that same expression in the mirror for years. He wanted to help Twilight know he wasn’t alone, he wasn’t the only one that had his heart shattered by things out of his control. The boy had always been a sturdy shoulder for all of them, it was time he returned the favor. He just didn’t know how without revealing too much or making Twilight uncomfortable.

“There was a girl once.” Legend’s voice emerged from the silence. “Hair more red than you can imagine. She lived on an island I… found but… I did something wrong. My curiosity got the best of me, and now she and the island are gone.” Legend got out as little of the story as possible as quickly as possible while still seemingly indifferent. It was one thing to open up to all of his brothers, but it was another to cry in front of them. He couldn’t.

Twilight seemed genuinely surprised Legend had spoken up about what was haunting him. Legend was sure that the others were just as shocked but he only looked at Twilight. He wanted Twi to know he wasn’t the only one. He needed Twi to know he wasn’t the only one. Talking about it was humiliating and almost impossible and just downright painful. He needed Twi to know he had been there too. Twi gave him a gentle and understanding look, one that told Legend he understood what he was trying to do, and that he was more than grateful and supportive of him. Warriors set a gentle hand on his shoulder, slow enough that he could pull away if he needed to. Legend allowed it, but nothing more. It’s more for that idiot’s peace of mind anyway. He didn’t take any comfort in it at all…

“My companion on my quest was awful to me at first.” Twilight’s voice rang out to replace Legend’s in the silence around the campfire. “She was awful to me at first but we started to talk more along the way and we became closer. Then she just… left. I don’t know what I did wrong…” Twilight trailed off, once again looking at the quickly fading twilight above. He wanted to talk more about it, and he could tell Legend did too. They just weren’t ready yet.

Wild bit his lip. Time was much better at comforting Twilight, but he was on the other side of the fire and making a move to be next to him would draw attention Twilight didn’t want. Wild leaned some of his weight against the older boy. He had to at least try to comfort him after all Twilight had done for Wild since they met. Twilight smiled slightly when he felt the weight and leaned back. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“I don’t think you did anything wrong Twilight.” Wild spoke quietly, messing with the hem of his tunic. “I mean you talked about your companion being from the Twilight Realm right?” Twilight nodded slightly, looking pained. “Well maybe she had to go for another reason? I’m not saying you should just forget.” Wild rushed to say. “But maybe it was really complicated if both of you were growing closer to each other and she wasn’t as mean as before?” Wild finished his words with a question. Twilight never told him enough about his companion to know for sure what really happened. But he could at least try to comfort his mentor.

Twilight looked down at Wild and smirked, but it lacked the tease it normally had, it held gratitude and love. “Thanks, Cub.” Twilight said simply, then reached out a hand to quickly ruffle the youngers’ hair. Wild yelped and slapped his hand away. Relief overwhelmed the boys in the group, thankful that the atmosphere had lifted slightly.

“I know it’s not the same.” Warriors started once the others had settled down. “But there was this woman. She was the main one who tried to take the Triforce for herself other than Ganon. Apparently she was supposed to protect the Triforce, but she… fell in love with me.” Warriors waited for the teasing to begin. He knew he made many jokes about the women he had met, but it seemed the group could tell this sometimes plagued his mind.

“That was one of the reasons she started the war that I fought in. I found out later that her light was driven from her to create my friend Lana, so she became completely dark. I had to fight in her temple and there were pictures of me all over the walls and…” Warriors paused. He couldn’t talk about his overconfidence yet. He couldn’t talk about his mistakes that led to Dark Link. What if the others hated him for it? “I don’t know it may sound silly. But having someone obsessed with you like that is, scary I guess. I mean, people died in those battles, because she was jealous of Zelda and me but I’m not even sure how I feel about Zelda. She died and I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I know I’m not required to have feelings for her, especially after all she had done, but it still made me feel… I don’t know.” Warriors sighed. Legend leaned slightly into Warriors’ hand on his shoulder. He never knew Warriors had that part of his story. The rest of the group felt twangs in their hearts at Warriors’ confused tone.

“It’s not your fault Warriors.” Wind smiled up at him. “You’re right. You shouldn't force yourself to feel that way for anyone. The war wasn’t your fault.” Warriors smiled down at his small companion and nodded in thanks.

“Wind is right.” Hyrule stated quietly. “There were people after me because of the Triforce. That doesn’t mean it’s our fault.” No one mentioned that the word ‘were’ sounded a little strained. they’d have to keep an eye on him in his Hyrule it seemed.

“Thanks guys.” Warriors grinned. It was a little more troubled than his usual grin, but it was a welcome sign nonetheless. Sky looked a little guilty at having proclaimed his love so confidently. Four pat his shoulder and shook his head. Sky shouldn’t feel guilty for being happy. None of the other boys would ever want that.

“Look at all of us.” Legend teased with a wry smile. The rest of the group chuckled slightly. The atmosphere wasn’t as happy as it had been, but there was an odd relief, like the relief after crying. A bittersweet acceptance that hearts had been broken, but they still had brothers to fall back on. The group could tell no one else was ready to talk about anything else for the night, so they began to settle in. Surprisingly, Twilight laid his bedroll near Legend that night. While no tears were shed, the group was still exhausted from a long day of travel. After the other heroes had settled down, Twilight laid awake, looking at the stars. He knew Legend would be up too, the hero never seemed to sleep right away. And now Twilight had suspicions why after his tale.

“Hey Legend?” Twilight whispered after he was positive everyone was asleep, save Four, who was on the outskirts of camp keeping watch, too far away to hear their whispers.

“What?” Legend pretended to look annoyed but Twilight could see the curiosity in his eyes.

“What was her name?” Twilight asked quietly, praying that he hadn’t crossed a line. When Legend didn’t answer, he figured he would apologize and awkwardly turn over in his bedroll and pretend to sleep.

“Marin…” Legend whispered the name with such sadness, but such awe that it threw Twilight for a loop. “Your companion?” Legend questioned back.

“Midna.”

#four #hyrule #legend #linked universe #sky #time #twilight #warriors #wild #wind #linkeduniverse #request #prompt #love #marin #midna #queenof-literature story #QoL Story

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dieguzguz · 4 years

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Okay I hesitated for ages now because I know you just tagged it 'save for later' but I wonder what you'd come up with for “Why did you choose me?” with Nat and Jake ♥ No obligation ofc I just... wanna read more about them :')

Thank you so much Angy! ❤️That prompt actually inspired me to write a scene of one of the last game-canon chapters. The whole thing is under the cut.

Something flickered across his face when she addressed him with the nickname, but it vanished quickly, and he took another threatening step towards her.

“Why did you choose me?” Her voice cracked. “Was it because I fell for your nice act, because I was the stupid one that trusted you?”

He turned his face away, closing his eyes for a second he cursed under his breath. Everything about him was so tense that Natalie almost expected him to shatter into a million tiny pieces any moment now.

Heartbeat thundering in her ears and against her chest, Natalie pulled herself up the ledge she had spotted from the ground below. The only vantage point, because Jacob still seemed to suspect her in the opposite direction.

Everything about his behaviour made no sense, why was he not watching his back?

Hubris never seemed to be part of his character, but then she just emerged the Wolfs Den after being brainwashed by him to kill Eli.

All hesitation was burned in the rage over his actions, and she quickly walked over the fallen tree with a surprisingly steady gun pointed at the back of his head.

“On your feet, now! And keep your hands where I can see them.”

Her voice was shaking. From anger or pain she could not say.

But he did not move, and stayed in his crouched position behind the red sniper rifle she had seen so often in his office.

“I said now!”

Very slowly he first raised his hands behind his head, then stood to his full height and Natalie kept the gun on him, ignoring the strain in her finger that rested readily on the trigger.

“Only you could've gotten this close. Good work, ya did it.”

The bastard had the audacity to turn around with a smirk. As soon as she looked into his eyes that inner turmoil got borderline unbearable, she wanted to punch him in the face and hug him, throw that gun away and scream until the weight was lifted from her chest.

She did not trust her voice, but he was not expecting an answer and continued: “But now you're alone. And you're weak.”

Jacob took a step towards her, but she stayed out of his reach and soon they circled each other on that small plateau.

“Stop it.”

Here she had him at gunpoint, and he was acting casual, nowhere near to accepting the dangerous situation he was in.

“You're tougher than I thought,” with a sneer he lowered his hands. “but what's next? You go back to running errands for a teenager and a housewife?”

Tears she had not noticed welling up trickled down her heated cheeks, which he shook his head over. In mock sympathy he smiled baring his teeth.

“Don't cry about Eli. He was weak and selfish. I gave him a chance to prove himself, all he had to do was hand over his Whitetails.”

It took all her willpower to keep her guard up, and not fall for his goading, but he missed the point entirely. Let him believe Eli was dead, she did not care about his sick mind games, and she was so done with how he looked at her.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up and stay where you are!” She emphasized her point by moving the barrel of the gun to his head. “You do not get to talk down on any of us, when you're nothing but Joseph's warmonger. Another little puppet of his!”

Jacob spread his arms. “You think I give a shit if I die? That's my purpose. I give my life for Joseph's and I do it gladly.”

A shiver went down her spine. “You really believe that.”

“I understand my role, I'm his sacrifice. Simple as that.”

The clarity washed over her mind like a wave and took her breath away, that was why he behaved so vile, why he tried to push all her buttons. He actually wanted her to kill him.

“Humans aren't sacrifices Jake. Not you, me or Eli.”

Something flickered across his face when she addressed him with the nickname, but it vanished quickly, and he took another threatening step towards her.

“Why did you choose me?” Her voice cracked. “Was it because I fell for your nice act, because I was the stupid one that trusted you?”

“There is no win for you here. It all ends bloody for everyone.”

The same tiredness in his voice was mirrored in his eyes as he turned to face her again.

Not because he disappointed Joseph, surprisingly, but that look on Natalie's face shook something loose in him. And he wanted to hate her for it.

Why did he ever think that Natalie would do as expected. Her exceeding in the trials had given him false hope that she would fulfil the purpose his brother gave him. Suddenly very exhausted he fought the urge to rub a palm across his face. He was able to pinpoint the moment the wrath had left her, and it crushed him.

“That's where you're wrong, it doesn't have to end for anyone!”

Jacob wondered if she realized that she had lowered her gun. Fuck, why did she had to climb up here in the first place, and not just send him off with a sniper shot he'd seen her do countless times when they hunted game together.

Lifting his chin with a scoff he glared at her. “Too bad that heroic mindset of yours comes too late for Faith.”

“I never said that I killed her, you all just assumed that.”

Defiant she held his gaze while he tried to make sense of her deadpan statement. Yea sure, most of his men had been found in shackles a few miles away from the Outposts that little Resistance of hers had taken from the Project. And they never found Faith's body.

None of that mattered any more. They had to finish this here and now.

“If you really wanted to keep people safe...be a hero...you'd just off yourself. Safer for everyone that way.”

The words felt like acid on his lips. He sounded just like his father, a part of him was relieved that his brothers didn't see him like that.

With tears in her eyes Natalie paled in front of him as she raised her gun again. That's all it took hu, he suspected the stab at her kind heart would tip her over eventually. He never saw that as a weakness, the opposite actually, but sadly she was right with her previous accusations...it did make it a lot easier for him to have the Whitetails trust her.

Jacob noticed the tension in her right arm, it all happened so fast now but time seemed slowed down. Fuck, he just hoped he wouldn't get to see a slide-show of is life or some other bullshit cliché. All he wanted was take his last breath and be gone.

Have the peace Joseph promised him.

That actually made him smile a bit. In acceptance, he closed his eyes, maybe it would make the shot easier for Natalie. Too bad he didn't get to see her smile one last time. Not that it mattered any more.

The wait was the worst, he wasn't scared of the pain, not after getting shot dozens of times overseas. But then finally the crack of the gunshot filled the air to drown out any other sound, echoed through the mountain hills until nothing but the ringing in his ears remained.

He looked down at himself, then up to Natalie who stared at him in horror. Absently his palm moved across his chest where he expected them to feel his shirt getting drenched with his blood, but the hand remained dry.

Confused he tilted his head and only now he realized that she wasn't staring at him, but past him. And that's when he noticed the agitated panting behind his back.

“Shit.” Before he could think about grabbing his knife, or turning around, a hand clutched to his jacket with an iron grasp and Jacob stumbled backwards from the force of that pull.

The next step he tried to gain his balance back with went into nothing and the last thing he saw was her handgun dropping to the ground as she jumped towards him.

Her scream chased the echo of the gunshot across the mountains, cut short by the ungodly thud of his skull hit...ting...

#Natalie Carver #jacob seed #far cry 5 #far cry 5 oc #my writing #writing prompt #thank you again so much! <3 #Oh also? I think this is my first prompt post!#far cry 5 fanfiction

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ilyeahdevorak · 3 years

Text

Beneath the Waves- Part 1

Mermaid!Julian Devorak/OC

summary: After seven years of pupilship at Emfiteuza Academy in Eparale, Salice Bourbeau only saw one acceptable ending to her education: she had to flee. However, when a storm ruins her escape off the coast of Vesuvia, she’s rescued from certain death by a mysterious creature.

read the prologue

Mistress Hallewell raised her arms. The harbor seemed to shudder as if under a tremendous weight. A faint light began to shine in the water below Mistress Hallewell’s feet. For a moment, all was silent, until the water exploded with a force like a great beast and a tidal wave raced across the harbor directly towards me.

I desperately pumped magic into the water in a last ditch effort, pushing the boat forward with a burst of speed. I had just cleared the end of the bay when I dared to turn and look, just in time to see the inevitable wave of crushing blue come crashing on my head.

I kept my eyes firmly closed against the compulsion keeping my limbs firmly glued to my sides. Each breath was a tremendous, painful effort. Waves of Mistress Hallewell’s magic washed over me continuously, forcing me to stay still- completely still- unless I was strong enough to resist.

“Open your eyes.” Mistress Hallewell’s steely voice commanded.

I found myself unable to. “I- I can’t.” I replied, a slight waver in my voice.

“You can,” Mistress Hallewell snapped. “You’re not trying.”

My fingers twitched at my sides, a pitiful shadow of the way I commanded my body to move. I gasped as the pressure on my chest suddenly tightened.

“How about now?” Mistress Hallewell sneered.

“Come on, Salice, you’re making us all wait!” My cousin whispered furtively from my side.

“I’m- I’m-” My words were cut off with a soft gasp as Mistress Hallewell’s magic compelled me to stop every movement, every slight muscle twitch- every rise and fall of my chest.

“Salice!” My cousin hissed.

“Any day now, Miss Bourbeau!”

A strangled scream tore through my throat and I summoned every ounce of strength I had. Wrenching open my eyes, I saw... nothing. Just blue sky. For a moment, I just lay there- wherever that was- and let my lungs refill with air. I was shaking, my breathing coming in heaving, shuddering gasps that prevented the panic from leaving my bones.

I closed my eyes, forcing a deep breath of air through my nose. I wasn’t at Emfiteuza anymore. I never had to see Mistress Hallewell and that wretched castle ever again if I chose.

I spent a quiet moment pushing the memory to the side, then opened my eyes and pushed myself up to a sitting position. I found that I was laying on the edge of a pristine beach, waves gently lapping at my toes. White sand stretched around bends on either side of me, backing up to a lush jungle of massive trees and thick foliage. I returned my gaze to the water, eyes skimming the horizon for any sign of civilization, but found none.

It was strangely humid. I wondered if I’d washed up near Prakra... Eparale was fairly close to Prakra’s southern sea ports, and the climate was fairly similar to that of Prakra’s (although, I hadn’t been to Prakra for many years, so my judgement may have been off). If I I really was in Prakra, I could make my way to the nearest port town and make my way to the capital to plead for asylum. If anyone would be sympathetic to my cause, it would be the famously benevolent Satrinava family.

I pitched forward, ignoring the dull ache in my chest, and stood. My legs wobbled slightly in the uneven sand. However, I knew I couldn’t waste time waiting for my body to catch up with my brain; Mistress Hallewell was likely already sending out scouts to catch me. Escaping Emfiteuza was only the first act of my escape- I had to leave Eparale completely, disappear into a nearby country that could protect me from Emfiteuza and its ruthless Council. If I did not secure my safety, the council would surely track me down and drag me back to that jagged castle. I’d once again have to wander its dark hallways, cloudy with the souls of the damned...

Amelie would call me selfish. Her brother, Antony, would call me cowardly. But they were corrupted with thoughts of power. Morality was no longer a thought in their magic. Mistress Hallewell was finally making them like her- cold, calloused, and willing to do whatever necessary to get what they wanted.

I grit my teeth. I didn’t have the stomach for that kind of magic. Perhaps I was simply too soft, as Antony claimed, but a part of me couldn’t help but find that a good thing.

I hardened my jaw reflexively and banished all thoughts of Emfiteuza. If all went to plan, I would never have to think of that wretched place again.

I decided to head along the beach to the north. A breeze swept across the beach, cooling my skin, and I felt my body start to relax. For now, I was completely alone.

I peeled off my grey Emfiteuza pelisse, the fabric slightly brittle from the seawater, and dropped it to the sand. The air was warm enough to keep me comfortable without it, and the lost weight felt like releasing myself from a pair of shackles I hadn’t realized I was wearing.

Next came my boots. I tied the laces together and slung the shoes over my shoulder, sinking my bare toes into the surprisingly soft sand. My spirits lifted with the sudden lightness. I breathed in the salty air once more, letting it harden into steely resolve in my bones, before I exhaled and set my sights on the beach in front of me.

By some incredible chance, I had escaped Emfiteuza. The Arcana had decided I was someone who deserved to survive. Even if it meant I had to drag myself to Prakra on one foot, I wouldn’t waste the chance I was given.

I set off down the beach.

~~~

An hour had passed and it seemed I had made it no closer to any sort of civilization. The shoreline seemed never-ending, curving around the jungle in a forever ongoing spiral. I marked my path as I went with markings left in the sand near the jungle. The only thing that pushed me onwards was the knowledge that I hadn’t rounded on any of my previous markers- meaning, I had to trust that I wasn’t going in circles.

However, something was distracting from keeping track of the markers. I kept catching glimpses of a strange black shape in the water. It was only for a moment, only out of the corner of my eye, but I was sure there was something there. Sometimes it would be a flash of black, or a shadow under the waves, but it gave me the eeriest feeling that I was being watched.

I kept my eyes trained on the sea as I walked, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever was following me. I was so engrossed in my search that I didn’t even notice my next obstacle: a hulking pile of rocks, at least 3 heads high.

I stopped, surprise flitting over my features. A huge rockslide had cut through the landscape, trailing all the way from a large mountain to the sea. I could see traces of black magma embedded in the stone- so it was an eruption, then, rather than a rockslide?

“Are you going to try and climb that?” A voice suddenly called from behind me.

Panic flared through my chest and I whirled around, magic flaring to my fingertips defensively. I raised my hand, a fireball brewing in my palm, and fixed the figure before me with the meanest look I can muster. “If you’re here to take me back to Emfiteuza, don’t even think about it.”

The man before me raised his hands defensively and fixed me with a quizzical look. “Is that where you’re from? Empesuza?” He asked. His face was sharp, built of beautifully sculpted cheekbones and a sloping nose. Curly auburn hair haloed his face beautifully. Under his hair, one grey eye twinkled at me- the other was covered with a black eyepatch. He had the beauty of a sharp-cut gem and the swagger of a pirate.

I narrowed my eyes. “Emfiteuza.” I corrected him. “And if you think that’s going to fool me, you’re sorely mistaken. There’s no point in lying to me- we both know there’s only one reason why you could be here.”

The man cocked his head. “I assure you, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I washed up here a few weeks ago- I was shipwrecked. Like you, I assume.”

His words made me pause. The flame in my hand faltered. “A few weeks? Why haven’t you reached the nearest village yet?”

The man looked confused, and then suddenly sorrowful. “Ah, I see. That’s why you were...” He caught my eye, guilt simmering in his gaze, and sighed as if defeated. His shoulders slumped and he pushed a hand through his messy hair. “There aren’t any towns near us. There’s nothing near us- we’re on an island in the middle of the ocean.”

My heart skipped a beat and my flame died in my hand. A soft “oh” escaped my lips.

A remorseful expression painted the strangers face and I quickly straightened my posture, rearranging my features into a look of nonchalance.

“Well,” I swallowed uncomfortably, clasping my hands behind my back. “That certainly explains a lot.”

The man cracked a smile. “I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”

My face flushed with embarrassment. “I was simply exploring my surroundings- there’s nothing shameful in that.”

The man laughed. “Who ever said anything about shame?” He extended a hand, an amused glimmer in his eye. “I’m Julian.”

Tentatively, I shook Julian’s hand. His large hand enclosed my small one in a warm embrace, gripping me with a grounding steadiness. “Salice Bourbeau.”

Julian bent down slowly, keeping eye contact with me as he raised my hands to his lips and brushed a soft kiss over my knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madame Bourbeau.”

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essays-for-breakfast · 4 years

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One Summer Day

Melizabeth Week Day 2: Past/Future

Elizabeth strolled down the busy avenue of Liones capital, exchanged smiles and polite greetings with passersby, and enjoyed the fantastic weather. The sky presented itself in a marvelous blue dress, dotted with a handful of fluffy white clouds that stood almost still without a breeze to carry them far.

She couldn’t have wished for better conditions on her birthday.

In a way, she found it odd to celebrate her human birthdays with the full knowledge that she had passed the same number Margaret had plastered onto the obligatory apple-pie with pink lines of cream and sugar a handful of times already. Elizabeth possessed memories of over three thousand years and had witnessed the rise and fall of kingdoms and even the great war from millennia ago. The tiny number ‘seventeen’, regardless of how large the digits had seemed on her birthday cake, did not fit her in the slightest. And of her past seventeen years in this human body, only the last one held particular meaning in her vast pool of collected memories.

A merchant tipped his head and bowed with a gleam as he recognized her as the third princess of Liones, and Elizabeth answered with a twirl on her heels and a smile just as wide. Even though she had the powers of a Goddess and had fought on the front lines in the New Holy War alongside the Seven Deadly Sins, people remembered her as a princess first in foremost. Maybe her silver hair, a rarity this far away from Ishtar and the land of the Druids, or the fine, expensive silk of her white dress gave her identity away. Her identity in this life.

The one that counted.

A flash of nostalgia overcame her as she entered one of the capital’s largest plazas, an open field of cobblestone fenced by tailor shops and dusty taverns designed as a perfect square that had to make room for another building to house a small part of the city’s rising population. The first vendors had set up shop for the market this afternoon to sell fish and bakery produce to early customers, and the smell of their goods tickled her nose. Back when Elizabeth had been a child, she had played catch with Veronica between the crowds of people many times. Gilthunder had joined them every so often when he hadn’t stayed behind to train or play guard for Margaret.

That must have been after the Seven Deadly Sins had been framed for murder, when Gilthunder had begun to drown himself with his duties. After Meliodas had left.

No matter what life Elizabeth had lived, no matter where she had been born, Meliodas had always found her and had accompanied her every step of the way. She didn’t remember all 107 times she had met him, sometimes she had been too young when fate and their curse had arranged for their paths to cross, but she could recall enough. And once they had made out each other’s faces in the crowd, he had never left her side until she eventually faded from this world to be reborn and meet him anew. And because of his undying loyalty, the ten years of her life as adopted princess of Liones where he had been away felt all the longer.

Back when she had been a clueless little child, she had failed to realize what had been missing, but now she was certain it had been Meliodas all along instead of the call of adventure as she had told herself when she sat on her carpet in the middle of the night with a book in her hands because she couldn’t sleep. These years without him had given her precious memories as well, moments of happiness with her sisters, a caring father, and all the luxuries bound to the life as royalty. But Elizabeth had never felt complete until she had stumbled into Meliodas’ tavern to begin their journey.

Now this journey was over, and Elizabeth and Meliodas were freed from their curse to live out a life of peace far away from the hardships that had plagued their past. The question remained how long this life would last.

Elizabeth stopped in front of the graveyard running alongside the road, and closed her fingers around the spikes of the cool metal fence. Within the vast lawn square, rows upon rows of gravestones gathered in the shadows of a willow, plates of slate to remember the fallen of the Holy War and those who had passed since. One of these days, soon compared to the longevity of the Goddesses, Elizabeth would grow old and die to be buried in a graveyard like this. While Meliodas would live for centuries to come. To be spared the worry about losing him due to old age should comfort her, but a selfish part of her hated the thought of saying goodbye.

The smell of tulips from the vendor across the street pulled Elizabeth out of her dark thoughts, and she shook her head to free herself of the shackles of her troubled mind. She had no reason to worry. She had all she could have ever dreamed of, she was with the man she loved. And nothing, no threat, no war, no irony of fate could take this happiness away from her.

With newfound energy, Elizabeth turned and scurried down the street, almost running. She shot the crowds of people she hurried through apologetic glances, but never eased her pace. She had wasted too much precious time already.

Meliodas awaited her in front of the tall metal gates marking the border of the city, and a wide grin enlightened his face when he spotted her amidst the sea of faces. Elizabeth gave him no time to meet her halfway as she crossed the distance with so much energy one could think they had been apart for years and flung her arms around his neck to make them both stumble.

“Happy birthday,” Meliodas whispered into her ear, and Elizabeth pulled away to meet the joy in his expression with a frown.

“You promised me we wouldn’t count the years.”

“Yeah, but that shouldn’t stop me from wishing you a happy birthday. Besides, Bartra was eager to make sure the whole country knew what day it is today. He sure loves his celebrations. Don’t worry, I didn’t get you any presents this time around.”

At least he had kept this part of their agreement in mind. “I don’t need presents anyway. You already gave me the most important gift when you stayed with me throughout all these years and broke my curse. And you have overdone it with presents too often in the past. Do you remember when you bought me a white horse for my twentieth birthday back in Caerlon? Or the pure sapphire as large as my thumb?”

Meliodas grinned. “Course I do.”

They made their way through the gates and ambled through the fields of wheat and summer grass, their fingers interlaced. Elizabeth had walked these narrow, trodden-out paths a hundred times before, she knew each bend, pond, and crooked apple tree from her childhood memories. But the landscape had never seemed this lively and filled with hope. It had to be Meliodas’ presence that filled the air with energy, their shared laughter as well as their shared silence whenever they didn’t dare to taint the value of each other’s presence with words. The New Holy War had been won to allow peace to return to the land a couple months ago, but they hadn’t found the time for a walk like this. There had always been one or another issue on their mind that had demanded their attention, meetings and goodbyes, funerals and celebrations.

If this walk went on forever, if this sandy path between the fields never ended, Elizabeth could not have been happier.

When the sun had passed its peak and midday lay behind them, Meliodas and Elizbeth rested in the sun on a grass-covered hill, their faces turned towards the endless blue sky. Elizabeth snuggled her head against his shoulder and brushed over the fine lines of his palm. She remembered each contour better than those of her own hands.

“Meliodas?”

He hummed as an answer, his gaze locked onto the heavens, lost in thoughts and memories.

“You know how grateful I am for everything you gave me and for everything you did to keep your promise to me. I remember the pain of death and all the times I went through it. But I never suffered as much as you did. If I had been forced to lose you this often… I don’t know if I had possessed the strength to continue.”

“Sure you would have. I only made it through because I remembered your strength. Your determination during the Holy War moved mountains. It convinced the terrible Demon prince who knew nothing but violence to betray his clan and fight for peace. A measly curse wouldn’t have stopped you for a second.”

Elizabeth sat herself straighter to meet Meliodas’ eyes. “Still, I want you to know that even if you hadn’t done all of this, if you had moved on to avoid all this pain, I would have continued to love you. Nothing will change this. No matter the hurdles that come between us.”

“I will always love you, Elizabeth,” Meliodas said, and the truth in his emerald eyes could not have shone more brightly.

“Even when I’m so old that I can’t leave bed, and you have to spoon-feed me with oatmeal?”

“And long after that.”

He grinned that infectious grin Elizabeth loved so dearly, and she let herself be pulled down to rest her head on his chest. His heartbeat, echoed seven times through his chest, calmed her more than any music ever could. Together, they admired the cloudless sky up above.

The future was indeed bright.

#melizabethweek #nnt #nnt fanfiction #nanatsu no taizai #seven deadly sins #meliodas #elizabeth #melizabeth #my writing #hopefully canon-compliant

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theholycovenantrpg · 3 years

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In the beginning was ARAEL, an ANGEL loyal to the cause of the ANGELS. She is said to be IMMORTAL and uses SHE/HER pronouns. In this New Testament she serves as a MEMBER of the VIRTUES. Blessed be her name.

THE INDEILIBLE MARK.

Arael was anointed the Virtue of Hope not long after Michael took his place upon the throne of the Kingdom of Caelum. It was with great fanfare that she was awarded this title, but Arael did not place much value in it -- so long as she was not bid to fulfill Michael’s every will and whim, she would take the title and swear fealty to him. She would wield her weapons and spill blood in his name, but her freedom and will would still be her own. When she bent her knee, though, she discovered that the gifts she had intrinsically held began to increase ten-fold -- Arael was able to instill a hope that bordered on the precipice of delusion. She could discern the greatest hopes that one might hold and foster, until their vision grew cloudy and they could see nothing but the fulfillment of their greatest and loftiest of dreams. It was how she managed to render a horde of Heretics utterly useless and gain a pivotal victory when acquiring the Holy Land. What it does to her in turn, though, is remind her of a hope that she can never have and a dream she can never fulfill.

THE HISTORY.

It was once written in a book that has long rotted away that the illustrious angel Arael was not created by God as the others were -- those angels were plucked from existence, born from the foam of the sea, the clay of the earth, or the glinting ray of the sun. Arael however, was not something that came from the earth that God had created; Arael was a creature of the cosmos, too lofty and accustomed to the cold emptiness of the inky black skies to ever be mistaken as an earthly creation. Who could look upon her and think anything but? In a language long forgotten, the rotting book described how God had caught a falling star in His palm, salvaging His creation from the burning star that sought to perish in a glorious cacophony of destruction with the earth. It was meant to be beautiful, as all annihilation is. But Arael was robbed of her own decimation, had her Fate stripped from her by the selfishness of a deity that knew nothing but the fulfillment of His own whims. From this star, God had twisted the light that bled from it until it was rendered into the shape of a woman, with features as ethereal as the material which she had been spun from and eyes far more distant than the constellations from which she had escaped. Though she had burned against His hand in defiance and rioted against her inception, she was nonetheless sculpted into a heavenly being and granted the gift of wings. Among her brethren she was placed, a lofty, shining thing whose light neither warmed nor illuminated, yet shone all the same. Unwillingly, and begrudgingly, into creation she was wrought -- and God could not help but sigh in utter adoration at the sight of her.

Perhaps it was because, in Arael’s visage, one could see the beauty of unabated melancholy, could bask in her despondent allure without fear of feeling its hopeless grip in their own heart. Yet, Arael still did as was bid by her, not knowing what else to do but God’s bidding. She razed cities at His behest, instilled in the round eyes of mortals the fear of God, and echoed His proclamations so that all might know of His wrath and His glory. It was odd how, when she would look at her fingers, she would only be able to see what God had wrought -- the hands that she stared at were not her own. When she passed her reflection and wearily cast her eyes over the visage that was there, what looked back at her was not a face that she knew or cared for, it was the face of a creature shackled by the weight of their own immortality. When her own winged brethren looked at her, they saw her beauty yes, but they also saw the cruelty in her existence; they saw how she longed to return to the vast emptiness of the universe. There was one angel though, with a smile as beguiling as the beauty of constellations to the naked eye, who laughed at her melancholy and bid her to not look at herself, but at the world around her. She bid her to look at the beauty that could be soon, to look at the ripeness of the earth instead of the melancholy of her own expression.

When she saw the world through her companion’s eyes, she was hard pressed to wear the shroud of melancholy that she had known for so long. Existence, suddenly, was no longer a punishment, but an adventure. No longer was an expression of weariness dragging at the edges of her eyes and the worn curve of her mouth; there was a glint to the light that was cast from her -- an enchantment that one would be hard pressed to find in any creature but the luminous Arael. Together, she and her companion danced in the skies as the world aged around them, among the colors of the borealis and along the peaks of mountains loftier than humans dared to reach. When she brought about the punishment of the Lord it was now with laughter that she oversaw such decimation. As she performed blessings and conjured miracles, it was with a small smile of benevolence, and as her name was rendered in ink, it was with kindness that she now looked upon the creatures of flesh and blood, the ones that called themselves man. And, at the end of each eon, she would find herself hand-in-hand with the angel that had shown her the beauty of creation and the contentment that could be found in endless existence. One would think, that for immortal creatures, that they be promised the notion of eternity -- a word that Arael had once thought to be interchangeable with prison. Instead, though, she was granted the singular curse of understanding the word finite in an intimate and unforgettable way.

When the world was made anew, the wildness of it called for exploration -- and Arael and her companion were all too eager to dance in its novelty and bask in the freshness of its soil. But then the soil was drenched in blood. Wars were fought, battles were won and lost -- and just when she thought she could taste peace on her tongue, she found that, instead, it was coated in the bile of despair. The angel that had become her salvation lay dead in her arms, eyes wide and unseeing, mouth parted in a cry that was never heard. There were those who said that it was the attack of a Gifted, who harbored hatred for infernal and celestial creatures alike. Others have whispered about a demon that harbored ill will towards the angels that had smote their brethren when they were all cast out of the heavenly city. Demon or mortal, she did not care. Instead, Arael was instilled with a singular thought that burrowed itself into the marrow of her luminous bones; she will have her justice. And in this justice, she would find her peace. She does not care for what she will have to do in order to have the blood of the guilty spilled, whether she razes a village or a kingdom, Arael will take what it is owed to her. What is owed to her, is doing to the offender what they have done to her -- it will be with a smile on her face that she carves their heart from their chest, and watches that wide, open chasm bleed.

THE CONNECTIONS.

BASTIEN AVALOS: Wolf. She has seen many mortals like him -- has witnessed them rise because of their ambition and fall because of their arrogance. There was no satisfaction to be gained from it then, before she had whetted her tongue with the heady liquor of vengeance. Now, the only thing she could think is to gain the rich satisfaction of watching him fall from the pedestal he had placed himself on, to watch him tumble and bruise, to cut himself on the bramble of his own conceit that awaited below. She knows of how delicate the situation is -- to dismantle a member of the Round Table was to declare a war between the angels and mortals, but with each passing day she finds herself growing more and more hungry for his undoing. Even though there is a tenuous alliance between the two, she sees him for what he is. An honorless fool. And if the Fate of the universe will not discipline him for his pride, then she will act in its name. Eventually.

GADRIEL: Beacon. In the void of her grief, Gadriel kept her tethered. Like a string, holding a kite in the midst of a storm; Gadriel clung to her and did not let her sorrows fill up her lungs, did not let her drown in her grief. When all had abandoned her, her own brethren and kin, it was Gadriel who kept watch -- in the throes of her agony, something worthwhile had been fostered. Since then, Arael has come to Gadriel like a touchstone, reminding her of the pain that she had overcome and the sweet memories of her companion that she needs to hold onto. The solidity of the other angel’s embrace is something that Arael finds herself searching for, longing for. Gadriel has become a sanctuary for her grief just as much as a sanctuary against it. And though she has lost her companion, she finds that when she looks at the other angel, she has not quite lost her hope. At least, what vestiges of it that remain.

ABADDON: Secret. Where Arael was ethereal, luminescent serenity Abaddon was like a blight against a blue sky. But she had known to look past that, to see instead what usefulness might be found with an infernal creature. With hands as dirty as theirs, does it not make sense to utilize them rather than dirtying one’s own pristine fingers? So, in secret, Arael had dragged to the demoness’ feet those who she suspected of being present when her beloved companion’s heartbeat was fast fading. In the midst of her blinding fury, it was difficult to distinguish their faces, the sound of their wailing, and the different bargains they had tried to make with her when Abaddon did as she did best and dragged the truth of their being from their grinding teeth. As of late, she’s frequented Abaddon less and less -- but still, there is a part of her that wonders if she has lost herself to her vengeance. But the solace that she finds in the suffering of others quiets any doubt. It soothes the wisps of guilt that breathe whenever Abaddon says her name.

ASMODEUS: Disconcert. Over the eons that she has watched, Arael has become used to the way that her powers seem to pervade every facet of her life. It has allowed her to read others as easily as one might read a manuscript -- save for Asmodeus. A singular anomaly that fills her with equal parts intrigue and unease. When they first encountered one another, she had let her ability run over them like a hand runs against silk, savoring the ease of texture. But instead, she had only encountered a void, the absence of desire as soothing as it was completely unnerving. Since then, she has always found herself innately reaching for his presence when the world seems to overwhelm her. He uses everyone else to fill the abyss within him -- is it not then justified that she might use him when she overflows with the hopes that are everyone else’s?

Arael is portrayed by Sui He and was written by ROSEY. She is currently TAKEN by ALYX.

#literate rp #fantasy rp #new rp #lsrpg #rpg #w #a #arael #c #cw

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thatonegirlcalledtoxic · 4 years

Text

This is my suicide story.

I was taken in by the officers called to check on me. They came, called by my concerned best friend who didn’t want to lose me. They asked repetitive questions that increased my anxiety. A ciclical array of query’s all in an attempt to coax me into saying outloud I was suicidal. Little did I know that once I’d said it outloud, I had just relinquished all personal freedom.

I was taken to my local hospital in the back of an ambulance where an EMT assistant, in an attempt to make conversation and fill the sound of my muffled sobs, started listing all the (material) reasons to live. As she ran on her fatuous listings very quickly mutated from all the reasons you should live to her explanation of how her job made her feel better about herself and that’s why she’s alive. After a vapid ride I’d later have to spend $800 on, I was sat in a busy ER while nurses threw looks of distain on my sob swollen face. Sat in the hall of the ER I waited for my badge weilding handlers to pass over my paperwork and tried not to continue sobbing. I thought about how crazy I must look. I thought about how insane I felt, With every fiber, I felt crazy. How every face that walked by was laden with pity or distain. I thought about my father in the waiting room and the guilt that splayed my heart strings like a harpsichord and plucked each like a masterful bard.

As if turning a coin between ones fingers, I rolled a train of thought through my mind. I thought about what one of the officers had told me as he walked me handcuffed to an ambulance. He talked about his brother, how he’d committed suicide and how he never wanted any one else to feel that pain. He continued on about how much his brother was loved and I absorbed his words. I know guilt wasn’t his intention, his words were meant to affirm my worth, but I weighed his words as I sat in this 1990s hospital chair, I couldn’t help but feel like a prisoner weighing their shackles. It’d been ten minutes. I thought about my situation from both sides, from his side I seemed selfish and confused. Turning up the good and happy things in my life, in choice of self pity. Refusing to recognize that there were people in my life who cared. To him, I was seeking attention. I flipped the coin. To me, he was ignorant. Thinking any of my actions were made without the full consideration of the people in my life. That’s why I’m here. I tiptoe. I appease. I always have. I make sure everyone else is happy. Maybe that’s why people like me seem so selfish, because others have become accustomed to our accommodation. I live with a mind that doesn’t stop and considers all. I know exactly what I’m doing with every step I take. I’ve already contemplated the consequences. I’m not seeking attention, I seeking some sort of confirmation that I’m normal. And even if I’m not, that it’s still okay.

I turned the coin over in my mind. Both sides made sense. Both sides seemed right, just one stung a little more. I looked at the ER exit. I could walk out. In hindsight, maybe I should’ve walked out. It’d been thirty minutes. After some prodding by the officers to get a nurse to check me in, they finally gave me an arm band and put me in a room. The lady who checked me in rolled through the conversation like a checklist, take off my clothes and jewelry, yes it had to come with her, no I couldn’t keep my phone, yes even my underwear, yes she had to check my personal ‘areas’ in case I had drugs on me, yes I had to pee into the cup, yes I had to get blood work, yes I had to stay over night, no I wasn’t allowed my rosary.

It felt so casual to her. I finally asked when my father could come in and see me, I told her I was afraid and I wanted him by my side. She said she’d send him back ASAP and that if I needed anything else just ask. I asked for a cup of water, she smiled and said not a problem. An hour went by.

I got out of bed and started pacing, I couldn’t physically keep laying in a hospital bed where my shivers of fear were so violent the vibrations of my rib cage shook the bed. I paced. Wondering where my father was. Had he not come? Did he not care? How insane did I look? Why was everyone treating me like a hollow egg? Why couldn’t I have Advil for my migraine? Where was the nurse with the water? Never once had it registered to use the call button. Instead, a nurse noticed my pacing and came to check on me. But “checking on me” is a gentle way to say, she told me to stop pacing before they restrained me to the bed. I stopped. And began to cry as I asked her to please get my father, that he would be in the waiting room. She said she would and turned, leaving the curtain open to the hall, where a very drunk and injured man looked at me like a museum exhibit or a circus show. I was on display. I shut the curtain and laid down. My shaking only got worse. She checked on me several more times. Never once did my father come back, nor did she ever come with a cup of water. Another hour went by.

I rang the call button, hoping for the cup of water I’d oh so gently and politely asked for. By this point, I’d come to the conclusion that my father had not come at all and that my anxiety was right. I really wasn’t loved. My depression worsened to the point I began to search the room for anyway to kill myself. They didn’t have a heart monitor on me. They wouldn’t realize. I spent another hour searching.

The doctor strode in asking why I was there. As I explained why, his face twisted, mouth pursing, as he listened to a healthy 23 year old explain why she wanted so desperately to die. The hardships, the harassment, the rapes, and the stress, I unraveled my life in front of this 50 year old man. To have him look at me, and tell me that life gets better eventually, and that doing this was selfish. My heart hardened. He didn’t care. I was just a part of his job, I quieted and let him check on my vitals. He remarked about how quick my heart beat was and how unhealthy that was. I laughed. As he finished up and left the room, he asked if I wanted anything else. I looked him in the eye and said I’d been without water for three hours and my father was supposed to be waiting for me in the waiting room but he’d not come back. That I would cause a scene if I did not find out if he was there or not, and that I would make every nurses life and ever living hell on a very busy night. I just wanted to know if he was there. The doctors eyes widened when he realized I was dead serious. Five minutes later my father came back with my younger brother. They both held me as I cried. It was the most relief I’d felt all night. Five minutes after that my water came. I’d later pay $300 for that interaction with the doctor. It would later become the only worthwhile thing I was billed for.

I told my father what had happened, and silently we agreed to get out that night, by any means. My brother still sobbing, told me how scared he was sitting in the waiting room, how neither one were sure if I was dead or alive or somewhere in between. I hugged him tightly and told him I was alright now that they were there, and that was the truth. In comparison to how I felt at the beginning of the night, I was on cloud nine! They’d broken me in to the point of compliance, but I refused to stay overnight and my father and brother agreed. Our goal now was to leave together, no matter what. With my father by my side, a seemingly stable person, he flagged a nurse and asked for the dr and another cup of water. The water came quicker this time, and soon after came the doctor, my father asked what the options were and I stayed quiet. We silently worked together. The doctor told us that someone would be in to do a mental evaluation and that depending on that we’d be allowed to leave together, he left shorty after. Me and my dad came to a silent agreement, we’d lie. Another hour went by.

Finally a very disheveled man in slacks carrying a hospital laptop stumbled into my room. He introduced himself to me and started on a seemingly endless list of asinine questions pertaining to my life. As he continued his interrogation, I realized half of my problem were finances. I was underpaid and overworked, straight out of college with nothing but 3 full years experience in my field and a degree in biology. Making 29k a year. He kept going, asking whether I had a support system, asking questions about hobbies and likes. Unbeknownst to me, he was creating what they call an “emergency plan” so when I found myself in these stressful circumstances again, I’d be able to look at a list of things that included, cats, warm cups of tea, and playing sims 4, to find MEANING AND PURPOSE in these small material objects and actions. So that, next time I found myself encompassed by existential dread and nihilism brought on my the inability to support myself with a degree, I could remind myself, “WAIT! These trivial things you find nice when happy exist! Don’t you want to remind yourself that your depression keeps you from partaking in anything you enjoy!?!” For the record. You never look at your emergency plan the second time around. You don’t remember it exists until you’re cleaning out your files.

As he went on with his question, me and my father were poised and prepared. No there were no guns available to me (there were). Yes I would be going home with my father where I would be watched for at least 3 days (I went to my apt where my little brother and I cried and watched movies). All of these queries effortlessly answered and accounted for. He told me my antidepressants were probably too high a dose and that I should stop taking them. He tried setting up appointments for therapy, but those never materialized as I realized most therapy centers were open on normal business days, when the average person works. No appointment ever materialized and instead he handed me a card for a care center and he wished me the best. Soon a nurse would arrive with my clothing and jewelry. I redressed and we walked out together. A week later I’d go through something called ‘antidepressant withdrawal syndrome’, not realizing that, similar to heroin or meth, I was using an artificial serotonin to replace something I didn’t naturally produce. And so I went through drug withdrawal for about a week. I felt like I had the flu, I would throw up but my stomach still hurt. I was shaking and sobbing. I had a headache that lasted 3 days straight. I couldn’t sleep, during that time, and even began to hallucinate. I never told anyone about that, I was too afraid to go back and be treated like I was insane.

I went back two months later for a second suicide attempt that landed me in a psych ward this time. Sadly not much was different this time. Except that the nurses that tried harder to make you not feel like a prisoner. But nothing was different. I discovered direct behavioral therapy and applied it to my life but I only got a book to walk through tough times with. It’s helpful, but only as long as you remember to use it.

I wish I had a nice ending for this.. I almost want to make one up, to say that I never thought about ending my life again! That after I went to the hospital my life dramatically changed for the better and I became a neurotypical member of society. But I’d be lying. Mental healthcare hasn’t improved, One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest only showed the rampant medical abuse in mental healthcare, but fundamentally what did it change? When we have people in positions of care and power who believe themselves fundamentally better than others because of biology, we will never improve. People have a right to be sad and suicidal without being treated like they’re insane for doing so. The system is set up to break people and keep them in their place, never asking for better, and never allowing them to willingly die. I don’t have a solution to this problem, I just think more people need to know how their depressed brothers and sisters are treated by others. We’re not selfish. We are people. And we want to live. Not as cogs in a machine but as people. I’m just tired. I’m tired of police performing mental health check ups. I’m tired of doctors acting like you can’t make decisions for yourself because you’re stressed. My heart hurts and races thinking about how many people were where I was but who didn’t have someone “sane” to help them get out. How many tried once and gave up and resigned to suicide being the only real option, except now they know to keep quiet about it. Our mental healthcare system isn’t a solution. It’s a very real problem. That we need to change.

#horror stories #real life #mental health #defund the police #mental help #mental disorder #suicidal thoughts #suicide

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