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thekingofwinterblog · 3 years

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It’s all for his sake - Endeavor and the Sunk Cost Fallacy

My hero academia 301 is a pretty interesting chapter, but for me, the most notable piece of it was how Endeavour reacted to the realization that Touya couldnt surpass All Might.

upon realizing that his son might not be able to do it because of inborn physical limitations, he immediatly stopped his training, which frankly was the responsible and adult thing to do.

This stint of real parenthood did not last long however.

After taking the matter to a doctor, he is flat out told that not only cant Touya achive what endeavor wants, but it is a direct result of his incredibly selfish and irresponsible attempt to play god, by trying to breed the “perfect” hero into being.

It is how you react when you lose however, that shows who you really are, and endeavor illustrates that very, very well.

Upon being told in no uncertain terms that his attempts at Breeding an heir failed magnificently, producing a child that was not capable of resisting his own immense power, but also admonished by his doctor for even attempting it, and adviced not to try again, Endeavor instead doubled down, while focusing on the child he screwed over from the start with his attempt at genetic manipulation.

It was all for him you see. Endeavor doesnt use those words, but that is how he spins it here. it was all for Touya, all for his sake. if i stop now, then Touya was all for nothing, a mistake, im doing this for my son.

if im doing this for my son, then im not responsible for any of this.

his wife however, calls him out on it, as she understands Touya much, much more than endeavor does. or rather, she sees him fully as a human being, instead of as a thing, a weapon, a failed attempt at an heir.

Unlike Endeavor, Rei is able to see the way this all is affecting her son. She is able to see, and understand that Touya has fully accepted what Endeavor wanted him to be. a stronger, and better version of himself. however, unlike Endeavor, she only cares about him as a person.

Endeavour by comparison isnt completely uncaring about Touya. like most abusive parents, he does possess love for his offspring, but it is forever tainted by the fact that however much he might care, or not care about Touya, any familial love he has for his son is tainted by the fact that to Endeavor, he is a failed experiment, a failed heir, not his child.

He is the golden child that Endeavor was building up as his true and only heir, who he breed, trained, and molded to for that single purpose, and now that he’s reached a point where he cant continue that legacy.

so, its time to abandon him, and start over new, despite literarily having just learned how stupid this plan was, and that it can, in fact, go completely wrong, with a quirk that will fuck over the person he brings into the world.

Of course, Endeavor doesnt use those words to frame it. there is no way to pretend to be a hero, if you phrase it like that after all. Intead, this is the words he uses.

this is a very important series of panels for a great number of reasons, some that can be debated, argued, and we will probably never know the full truth to the questions because this is a series published in 2020′s shonen jump, and there are things that probably wasnt gonna fly with Hori’s editors, if it was the case.

but lets start with what can not be debated. Endeavor’s words here.

“If we want him to give it up, then we have no choice... Touya... Cant surpass him.”

These are very telling words, and however you believe The third and fourth children of the Todoroki family was concieved, there is not denying the meaning of what he’s saying here.

The only way that my son will stop being an idiot and fall into line, is if we have another baby. that is the only Right way to move forward. it is morally right, because if we dont do this, then he’s going to destroy himself.

there are two ways to interpret this scene.

The charitable way is to read it as the fact that he used Rei’s oldest son’s mental state as a justification of guilting his wife to have a third child, to give this attempt at a superpowered breeding project another shot, despite the fact that they now know that this can lead to a child who is essentially born crippled from his own powers, and despite the fact that Rei obviously understands the effect of them continuing this insanity will have on their oldest son.

the uncharitable way to look at it, is that he used this as justification for flat out raping her, and forcing a third, and then later a fourth child on her.

I personally believe the last one, given a number of factors shown in this chapter(the way this page is framed, the fact Rei obviously didnt want a third child, given she predicted exactly how touya would react, the way her eyes would latet turn when she looks at who is presumably touya which really brings to mind how she would later react to her youngest son’s face after her mental breakdown, etc.), but i’ll frankly admitt that withouth a direct quote from Hori, its impossible to know for sure one way or another.

either way however, this is a very good example of Endeavor both being influenced by, and using Sunk Cost Fallacy to justify bringing another potentially crippled child into the world for his own, selfish goals.

sunk cost Fallacy, is a mental reaction to when you invest more time and resources into a project, that you becomes so emotionally invested into said project that you will continue to invest into it, even if it reaches a point that it becomes clear that the resources you put into it, far, far outweighs the potential gains you can achieve.

because if you give up after having invested years, and years of effort to breed, raise, and train a kid, and then all that effort was absolutely wasted. hence he choose to keep going, despite having learned what a terrible idea this is.

He doesnt care about the fact that his next child might be even more crippled than his firstborn, he doesnt care about his son’s actual wellbeing. he cares about the fact that if he doesnt continue this insanity, then not only will he not achieve his dreams, but everything he did to get to this point was for absolutely nothing.

and endeavor cannot accept that. and so long as he can justify breeding more children into the world, and there being any chance they might inherit both quirks perfectly, he doesnt care about anything else.

and the moment he realised that this kid wasnt gonna cut it either, he did it again. it is not a coincidence, that the age gap between Endeavor’s second, third, and fourth children were all 3-4 years apart. because thats the age where you can usually tell when a quirk will manifest or not, as established earlier in the series.

While she isnt brought up directly by Endeavor as a justification, it is very telling that Endeavor decided on having a third child, only after his second child was old enough that he could tell that that there was no chance she could take the place as his heir instead.

So, he had his third child, and as time passed and it became obvious that he wasn’t gonna be able to fulfill Endeavor’s goals either, he dumped him, and instead breed a fourth child into existence.

and finally, he struck gold. he did it. he produced Shoto.

everything was finally worth it, and now, everything would be absolutely fine. the cost fallacy had reached its end, and it was now all full sails ahead.

except of course it wasnt.

His oldest son, now in middle school, had been raised from birth to believe he would surpass his father, only to be thrown away, and getting to see his father try to replace him, not once, but twice.

frankly, this scene is probably my favorite in the chapter, because it goes to show Endeavor’s mindset. Natsuo made a point that their father completely ignored his older children. and he did... from Natsuo’s perspective. however, having a more thourough picture of things, we can clearly see that this wasnt the case with Touya.

Endeavor genuinly cared for Touya, enough that once he got that child he tried to breed into existence 4 times, he genuinly wanted him to just abandon trying to be a hero. he genuinly thinks of himself as a good dad here, wanting his son to abandon the mission he set out for him before he was born. of course, with context, this heartwarming scene is incredibly sad and insidious, because we understand why Endeavor got so attached to his oldest child. because he WAS the golden child. he was the child Endeavor genuinly cared about, and invested in, and trained personally with great warmth and enthusiasm.

And not only did he abandon him as a failed project the moment he realized he wasnt gonna live up to his ridiculous standards, but he literarily created 2 more kids to try and replace him, just as his oldest son was old enough to understand what exactly his dad was doing. over the course of this chapter, we get to see Touya’s start as a 5-8 year old, his deteriorating mental state over the years, until he finally seemed to reach the breaking point with Shoto’s birth sometime in his middle school years 12-15.

Endeavor is in this scene, just not capable of understanding why Touya so desperately wants to become a hero, when obviously he isnt physically able to do so. he isnt able to understand that he is 100% to blame for the fact that his son is having a full emotional breakdown after literaly being replaced by his siblings.

In other words, Endeavor genuinly think’s he’s a good person. a person who has made a few mistakes along the way sure, but a person who was always justified in the end, and now that he’s having to face the fact that as dabi would later say “The past never dies” and has to face the aftermath of his inane attempt to play god for the pettiest of reasons, things simply arent going to work out.

He isnt going to have a happy family, who can now put the awful early years behind them, he put way too much effort, caused too much suffering and sacrificed too many years of his life for this not to work out as he wants.

after all, if he walks away from this project now, and lets Shoto have a normal childhood, and decide for himself, with no pressure from him, wheter or not to become a hero, then the sunk cost fallacy will have reached a negative end. it will all have been for nothing.

and we know he did eventually double down on this mentality, literarily beating into Shoto that he WAS going to become a hero, and there was not but’s or no’s about it.

there was no way that Endeavor was EVER going to let things be for nothing. His treatment of his older children could not be for nothing. His treatment of his wife could not be for nothing. His treatment of Shoto, and the way he beat him black and blue to train him, could not be for nothing.

Because if it all was for nothing, if everything he feels guilty about was for absolutely nothing, then he was in fact, a bad, bad person, who had no justification for anything he ever did.

#my hero academia #touya todoroki #dabi #endeavor #endeavour #enji todoroki #rei todoroki #character study #301 #meta

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andromeda612 · 3 years

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Renga Fantasy AU

I've seen lost of fantasy Au's with Langa being the prince and Reki either the cute gardener, the adorable captain of the army, or any other common role that will be the prince's love interest... but what about Prince Reki?

I can see it like this:

Joe is the head of the cook and Reki's paternal figure number #1.

Cherry is the first advisor of the royal family and Reki's paternal figure #2.

Shadow is a guard and probably Reki's main bodyguard, he acts like he is annoyed by Reki's too energic and loud personality but in reality he is a big softie and has a weakness for the young and gentle prince, he is Reki's older sibling figure.

Miya is the son of a noble family, probably training for either being court sorcerer or knight, he is Reki's closest friend despite being younger, he sees Reki as his old brother and is very protective of him because in his opinion (and in everybody else's opinion for that matter) the redhead is too nice for his own good and someone needs to take care of him for god's sake! Of course he will deny it for ever and still be the tsundere he is.

Langa can be the son of a merchant and a doctor from another kingdom, after his dad dies his mother decides to go back to her home in the Kyan's kingdom (Okinawa), because of her reputation as a good doctor she gets a job in the palace as court physician. Langa stays with her at the palace and he could be either training for knight, physician or maybe sorcerer too but he hasn't decided yet, or even training for advisor under Cherry's wing. For the time being he just study with Reki.

Now in this au's Prince Langa main trouble is he feeling lonely or incomplete, Reki being the sun he is complement him and his trouble is of course his self confidence, I want to keep it that way even if Reki is the prince now.

So Langa feel not sad anymore but definitely off since his dad died, he used to love traveling with him, try new things, he loved the most all the things he could learn from the items he got to sell, he wanted to be a merchant like him but now he is not sure anymore, that's why that for now he is just studying along with the prince as he decides what he want to do with his life, he is not unhappy but he can't help but feel there is something missing, that's it until he meets the ray of sunshine that is Prince Reki, the royal is gentle and unlike other royal member he has met (due both if his parents jobs) he doesn't treat the rest with superiority, he traits everyone the same, with kindness, a warm and genuine smile, he actually doesn't act like how he was taught princes are supposed to act, he is loud and very energetic, he is polite and all, but he doesn't emanate an aura of someone to be afraid off or someone you feel intimidate with, he makes you feel like you are with a friend, he will talk and talk enthusiastically to no end... unless you show him you were bored, which was not rare to happen, with the prince being too kind and easygoing is was easy for others to forget he was the prince. But Langa could hear him for hours and never get bored, Reki showed him the palace and different places of the kingdom, he show him his drawings, all his crafts, the prince was incredible with smithy, he designed most of the best warriors' armors, as well as some of the innovative artifacts that helped so much in the kingdom, he showed him his passion for his realm and his passion for his hobbies, he was amazing... it's such a shame the prince is not capable to see it himself.

Reki for his part, he is the genius, creative sunshine we know. He is energetic and almost all the people loves him. Almost, because there is still the royal and nobles assholes that think he won't be a proper ruler because of his personality. As well as the people that get fed up with his energy. Those all are the people less liked in the kingdom. Though is really a trouble that the royal ones hold such power, because they really chose violence when it comes to Reki's self confidence. Especially because the most deep root for his insecurities comes from no other than his passed away father.

The king was... not a good man, the kingdom was not in ruins but the people were not happy, his family was not either, he would lash out to his wife and daughters, telling them they were good just to show of, to serve him, he was abusive with this staff on the palace and to his people, but who got the worst treatment was the young prince, since a child Reki was unquiet, loud, energic, totally the opposite to a centered, reserved and serious prince, he was also too kind with everyone no matter how much he told him he was above all the people, but Reki refused to be rude or mean to anyone, the only people that he lashed out to were the rude and cruel royals that abused of their power and were mean to people with no status or power. The king ruled with an iron fist and with stronger severity he tried to rise his heir, but Reki's golden heart was always stronger, however it didn't protected him from the abuse, the hard punishments and the constant reminders of how a failure he was, how he was worthless, how he was a mistake, how easy it would be for him to replace him if not were for the fact he needed a boy of royal blood to be his heir and he had no one, how annoying he was, that there was something wrong with him. And all the people that thought the same as his father had no seconds thoughts to remind him of the same in every. Single. Opportunity.

It was such a relief when the king died from a mysterious illness, and if anyone ever thought about it as a coup from the queen and the royal staff? Well nobody blamed them, but that was just a rumor and they were fine without him anyways.

Indeed, after the king's death the Kingdome went through a prosperity that haven't been seen in years. Despite what the king and his lackyes believed the Queen was actually a very well skilled ruler, she fixed the mess her former husband made and bring a new era to her people, she made new allies, she cleaned the corrupted government and brought new opportunities to the kingdom of Okinawa, the people were happy again. And her son, his ideas for artifacts to make certain tasks easier, his enthusiasm about cultural development, not mention that despite what his father said Reki was really smart, a total pride for his tutors even if his chaotic nature gave them green hairs, also his ideas to improve the army of the Kingdome, his ideas helped a lot to their realm's development. Many people called him the inventor prince.

However there were some royal asses that were not happy with him, there were invertors for that, there were artists, musicians, artisans for the cultural things, a prince shouldn't be look being so friendly and informal to commoners, shouldn't be so loud and idiot.

Not to mention the people that just... were fed up with his chit chat, and okay, they get it, Reki's personality could be overwhelming and even obnoxious to some people, but they needed to be so rude about it? The fact that must of this people were royal visitors didn´t help at all, Reki just felt he was embarrassing his mother and the Kingdome, no matter how many time she and the royal advisor Kaoru told him otherwise, or the fact that those people were usually not good allies at all.

Years of abuse and constantly hearing how a waste you were are hard to heal.

But, the love and support of the people that truly loved him helped Reki a lot, it was a long path but he was getting there. Though, the person that were really close to him, and you know who these persons are, know that sometimes the thoughts gets too loud on Reki's head, but they are there for him, and are happy to see that everyday the sunshine prince is doing better and better.

Well, and then of course the boys met and all of that, they help each other to find what was missing, to discover how much loved and worth they are.

The Queen and the court physician ship them, because this is my fucking au and I say love is love, you are who you are, no labels :)

Kaoru, Kojiro, Miya and Hiromi are definitely fondly exasperate with their mutual pining and just want them to just kiss already and spare their poor souls out of their misery.

About Ad*m... I don't know yet honestly.

In one hand I'm so tempted to make him not existing in this au. On the other hand he could be a major villain, maybe a lord wanting to make coup to the kingdome with Tadashi being a spy loyal to Queen Kyan. And I really want Langa to beat the shit out if him for messing up with his sun, but well, idk.

Any thoughts about this? Feel free to ask! 👀

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 au #fantasy au #prince reki #reki kyan #langa hasegawa #miya chinen #joe sk8 the infinity #cherry blossom #kaoru sakurayashiki #furuhashi kojiro #hiromi higa #shadow sk8 #reki deserves the world #simp langa #renga

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eadanga · 4 years

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Falling in Love With You Part 7 (NSFW)

Summary: Chris is a rich guy trapped in an awful engagement. He meets MC a young medical student and falls for her. Can Chris get out of this engagement to be with the one her loves?

A/N: This series is for @maxattack-powell one of the winners of my 400 followers giveaway hope you enjoy this and thanks for participating.

Chris stood at his desk working on papers Baxter runs over to him he smiles “Hey there how’s it going?” Chris chuckles and ruffles his ears as he barks happily “Sounds like you’re just fine”. There is a knock on his door and he goes to answer it he sighs as he sees his father standing in the doorway “What?”

Frank steps around him and enters the apartment “This is your new place?”

“Yes it is”

“Are you trying to ruin this family’s reputation? What if the press saw you here? Are you trying to disgrace us? Chris it’s time for you to come home”

“That’s not your decision to make”

“Chris you are the heir to Powell industries it’s time you started acting like it”

“And it’s time you knew that I don’t care about that it’s time for you to stop telling me how to run my life!”

“Don’t test my patience Christopher now you listen-”

“No! You listen! I’m tired of you guys interfering all the time! It’s my life not yours! I will not live my life for the sake of the family reputation anymore and I won’t marry that bitch you call Scarlett! Even if we do make it down the aisle I won’t say I do”

“Chris how dare you?! You’ve never acted like this before?! Is it that girl you’ve been hanging around with? I knew she was a bad influence you will not see her again!”

“I’ll hang with whoever I want and she has nothing to do with this! Now get out!”

“You’re a disgrace” Frank walks out and slams the door

Chris rolls his eyes and rubs Baxter’s belly Well there goes my morning.

****

MC places some food on the bed “Here you go mom I made you some soup”

“Thanks sweetie” She smiles “It’s nice to see you at home”

“Yeah I can take some days off since I earned that money for you”

“I was starting to worry about you. You were working so hard and been going to school I was afraid you’ll wear yourself out”

“Yeah I realize now I should have done that”

“No you shouldn’t” She grins “Now tell me all about this Chris guy you’ve been seeing”

“Oh” MC blushes “Well we’re just friends but I really like him but he’s supposed to marry someone else”

“Well you shouldn’t let that stop you if you want to be with him go ahead”

“Thanks mom I will you should get some rest”

“Thank you sweetheart”

MC left the room and went to the kitchen where she found Kevin in the kitchen “Hey lil bro I’m gonna head to bank watch mom for me will you?” “Ok”

“Don’t play video games all day”

“Yes mom”

MC rolls her eyes as he chuckles. She heads out to the bank and gets money the heads to the doctor’s office. The doctor smiles as she enters “Hello MC what can I do for you?”

“Just dropping off a payment for my mom”

“Payment?”

“Yeah earned enough to cover for the whole year”

“But I thought you already paid”

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you send your friend in here to pay for everything?”

“Friend? What friend?”

“A Chris Powell”

MC’s eyes went wide “Chris was here?”

“Yes he came in here two weeks ago and paid for everything he told me not to tell anyone but I thought you knew”

MC shook as she stood “Um thanks doctor” She quickly headed out and drove to Chris’s apartment.

****

Chris relaxed on the couch as he watched tv a knocking came on his door. He groaned I was just enjoying my day off He rolled off the couch and went to open the door his eyes widen in surprise as he saw MC standing there “MC”

“Hi Chris may I come in?”

He smiles “You don’t even have to ask” He stepped aside and let her in. They sat on the couch “You didn’t tell me you were coming” He smirks “So what brings you here today?”

“Well I just went to the doctor to pay for my mom’s medical bills and he told me you came in and paid for it”

“Ah told him not to say anything but yeah I did”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I didn’t want you to keep worrying about all those bills. I mean you work long hours everyday and you have school it’s not healthy for you to be doing so many things at once eventually you’ll-”

“Wear myself out? My mom said the same thing this morning”

“And she’s right” He places a hand on her shoulder “I’m sorry I went behind your back but I knew you wouldn’t take the money and I only did it because I care about you”

“I understand Chris how did you find out where to pay?”

“I talked to your dad about it and he gave me all the information”

“Figures he knew that’s my dad for you”

Chris chuckles “He’s a great guy”

“Yeah and thank you Chris you’re the best”

“Anything I can do to help and that 50 grand you earned use it on yourself buy yourself something nice”

MC smiles “Ok I will”

Chris smiles “Good” He sighs “I hope your morning was better than mine”

“What happened?”

“My dad showed up here and was demanding I come home but I stood up to him”

“I’m glad you did”

“Yeah I’m still looking for ways to end this engagement but don’t worry I’ll get out of it”

“I’ll help in anyway I can”

Chris smiles “Thanks” He kisses her deeply his arms go around her waist. Then he pulls back with a smirk “One second MC”

He gets up and walks to the bedroom

****

MC smiles and blushes as she waits for him I wonder what’s he’s doing. He comes back a few minutes later and extends his hand “Let me show you something”

MC takes his hand and follow him to the bedroom. There were rose pedals scattered on the bed, soft music playing, and a bottle of wine with two glasses on the nightstand.

“Chris…”

“You did say you wanted it to be super romantic”

“And it is I love it”

“I’m glad” He kisses her deeply as his arms wrap around her waist. MC’s arms wrap around his neck as his hands move everywhere. She pulls away to lift up his shirt and her eyes marvel his chest

“I was always curious about what was under that shirt”

He smirks “Yeah? And what your review?”

“100 out of 100”

He chuckles as he kisses her again he pulls her shirt off and kisses down her neck as he mumbles “You’re so beautiful”

He lifts her up and carries her over to the bed. He unclasps her bra and suck on her nipples as she moans. He kisses down her body pulling off her jeans and underwear. His hand go up and down her clit “Fuck you’re so wet for me”

He kisses back up her body and whispers “Do you want me?”

“Mmm yes Chris”

“Tell me how much you want me”

“I want you so bad Chris I want you deep inside of me”

Chris grins the unbuckles his pants and pulls them off. He slowly enters her as she moans loudly

“Chris!”

“Damn you’re so tight”

He thrust into her slowly the begins to go faster as her moans get louder.

“Chris! Oh God you feel you good don’t stop”

“Wasn’t planning on it” He continues to thrust then growls “Come for me MC”

“Chris!”

She comes and he continues to thrust till he finds his release. He pulls out of her and rolls off her as they both breathe heavily. He smiles and wraps his arms around her “That was even better than my dreams”

“You’ve been dreaming about this?”

“Only every night”

MC laughs “Didn’t know you wanted me so badly”

“I want you more than anything” He kisses down her neck “I want you to be mine”

“Chris…”

“I don’t care about Scarlett or what my parents think I just care about you. I think I’ve fallen for you MC”

“Chris…I’ve fallen for you too”

Chris grins “I’m so happy to hear you say that” He holds her for a moment “Are you ok with this? Meeting in secret till I find a way out of this engagement?”

“As long as I get to see you I’m ok with it”

“Good cause I won’t marry her nor do I want to I’ll find a way to get away from her”

“I believe you will Chris but for now I just want to be in your arms”

Chris smiles as he tightens his arms around her and pulls her closer

****

Frank sits down crossing his arms as Barb looks at him stunned “What is wrong with our son?”

“It’s that girl he never acted like that till she come along”

“We have to get her away from him we can’t have her ruining his life”

Tags: @annekebbphotography @indiacater @the-soot-sprite @hopefulmoonobject @jared2612 @mfackenthal @maxattack-powell

#The Freshman #the freshmen series #Christopher Powell #Chris Powell #chris x mc #the senior #The Sophmore #choices fanfiction #chris fanfiction #chris fanfic #the junior #choices the senior #choices tf/ts #tf/ts/tj/ts

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villainousshakespeare · 4 years

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Could I request the “forbidden/secret relationship” with Loki and reader? They dated back in Asgard, but with Loki as prince it was somehow forbidden so they needed to keep it secret. Someone found out and the reader was sent to Midguard and to not see Loki again and while she is there she found out she’s pregnant. Years later Loki found a way back to the reader and is surprised to see that they have a child together

Absolutely! Thanks for the request! Hope this is the kind of thing your were looking for. :)

First story for my 200 Followers/Birthay writing challenge!

The Rarest Flower

Loki/ReaderRated T - kissing, forbidden romance, implied smut, angst, fluff

"Darling, we have to stop this," you told him, wishing you could mean it as much as you should. "If someone finds out..."

"I want someone to find out," Loki insisted. "I want everyone to find out. I want to proclaim from the dais in the throne room how much I love you."

His voice was rising alarmingly as he spoke, arm encircling your waist pulling you close beneath the bright night stars. The air was cool and crisp, but in your princes' embrace you felt only the heat radiating from his lean muscled body. Just a bit franticly you raised your hand to cover his lips to keep him from shouting out your presence. Loki merely smiled and kissed your fingers, a stubborn look in his bright green eyes.

"You know that can't happen my love," you said, silently wishing it were otherwise. "You are a prince. In line for the throne. I am a nothing, a nobody."

"You are everything to me," he interrupted, claiming your lips in a kiss that tasted of wine and chocolate covered fruit from your picnic. Resolutely you fought against what his kisses always did to you. There was too much at stake to give in, yet again, to the passion your dark prince could evoke in you.

"Loki, we must stop. I may be everything to you now, but we have known from the start how things must be. For your own sake and for the good of the realm."

"The good of the realm," he scoffed.

"Yes!" you went on tenaciously. "You could be king some day, Loki. Ruler of all Asgard."

"Oh min kjaereste, Odin will never choose me," he said with a bitter laugh.

"Not if you are tied to a peasant, he won't!" you said triumphantly. "You have to make an advantageous marriage. That is the duty of princes, to secure the safety of the realm. And yes, Odin may seem to favor Thor now, but things change, my love. Time will show him who the worthy son is, and he will turn to you."

"You believe that?" the need in Loki's voice when he spoke of his father was almost enough to break you. He so craved the approval and acceptance of the harsh old man, though he would rather perish than admit it. For yourself, you thought Odin was a foolish king with a glaring blind spot when it came to his sons. How anyone could miss the shining potential just waiting to be nourished within Loki was a mystery to you.

"I believe in you, Loki," you told him, rising on your tiptoes to kiss him. "I believe you are destined for greatness."

"I love you, min kjaereste," he told you, crushing you to him. "I don't care about your station. I don't care about anything but you. Say you love me too."

"I love you Loki," the words flew from your lips, unable to be curbed when he looked at you so intently, hands mapping your body in the moonlight.

"Then let me show you, darling," he coaxed, plucking the rare white night blossom that grew only in this one place, high atop the hill overlooking Asgard. You gasped as he trailed the precious white bloom down the side of your cheek and over you lips. You had never seen one before, let alone felt how soft were its petals. “Tomorrow we can discuss succession and dynasties. Tonight let me worship you."

You closed your eyes and let the night recede as he lay you down atop his cloak. Tomorrow, as he said. Tomorrow you would be strong and do what must be done, for both your sakes. You would give yourself the fairy tale of tonight. One more night where you would feel what it was to be loved, truly, deeply loved, by a prince.

Loki looked around the open space with disdain. They called this a park. Flocked to it in droves as though it deserved the name. Back home on Asgard it would not so much merit a bench. The gardens and parks at home, fragrant with teeming variety of blossoms, were each more glorious than the next. All of them, including the one where a very special flower grew. The one that he never went to.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" Thor beamed, waving his arms to encompass their surroundings.

"It's crowded," Loki groused in response. "All of these Midgardians and their pets."

"Dogs, brother!" Thor enthused. "They're called dogs!"

"What are they exactly?" Loki was mildly intrigued by the creatures, he had to admit. While his contempt for the humans might be thinly veiled, the beasts that led them about on woven and chain leads seemed rather noble creatures.

"Well, from what I gather they are loyal and playful, if a bit of handful to clean up after. They follow one around and fetch things, and protect you when the need arises. Also, they jump on you and drool a bit. Jane and I are getting one of our very own soon, she promised me!"

"Jane already has one of her own," Loki laughed, watching as Thor slowly took his meaning and blushed with rueful self awareness. That was one thing that had improved about his brother since his time on Midgard had begun at least. He seemed more aware of his own rather... well, dog-like tendencies and temperament. Loki supposed that there must be something redeeming about this planet if it could so enlighten the chronically dense.

"So what do you think, Brother?" Thor asked, voice betraying his anxiety. "Will you do it?"

"Will I do it," Loki repeated, looking around him with unseeing eyes.

"Yes. Will you take the throne?" Thor urged.

"This is really what you want?" he could not believe that his brother, born to be a king as he was, would settle... would long for this pedestrian life.

"It is all I want," Thor told him seriously. "A life with Jane. Protecting Midgard from her enemies. But I can not do that if I am King of Asgard. Take the throne, Loki. You have the wisdom and patience to rule. Let me be free."

"I will do as you ask," Loki began, raising one hand in warning as Thor began to build in excitement, "with one proviso. I will not marry. I will not have children."

"But you must!" Thor insisted. "The line of succession must continue!"

"I have sworn it, Thor," Loki spat out, eyes going hard. "I will not go back on my word. I will rule until my time is done, but you must provide the heir. It will not be of my getting."

"As you will," for a man who had just gotten his wish, Thor sounded less than happy. "Come, there is one more place I wish to show you."

Loki rolled his eyes and rose from the bench where they had been sitting to follow his bounding brother down the nearest path.

You had lost Lael somewhere in the Ramble, a series of twisting paths that ran through a section of the park near your home. A hint of anxiety stirred within you, he was not a large child and only ten of the human years in age. Still, he was strong for his size, and had the dog with him. Of course he did, the two were practically inseparable and had been since Lael's birth.

What a miserable night that had been. Though nowhere near as glacial as your homeland could become, it had nonetheless been cold and snowy enough to impede your way to the medical center where you were scheduled to give birth. All alone in the dead of night you had trudged there, not trusting the mortal transit system as much as you had your own two feet. It had been a long time before you trusted much of anything. There had been a man there, though, who while cold and somewhat distant in demeanor had nonetheless taken an interest in you. He was not your doctor, he had snidely comment that child birth was far beneath his skillset, but having looked at your scans and seen the anomalies therein he had tracked you down in the wing reserved for new mothers.

Steven was a friend now, and had introduced you to others like you; those imbued with gifts or physiognomy beyond that found on this backwards world. It gave you a sense of dark amusement that you were considered special here. Back at home it had been your very ordinariness that had sealed your fate. He had also gifted you with the small black puppy, saying that every Earth boy needed a dog. You had pointed out the obvious, Lael was not of Earth, but he had just smiled and reminded you that he was now.

You were actually on your way to meet Steven now, not far from here in the park. You missed Steven. He was still in New York, of course, but he practiced sorcery now instead of medicine and was usually quite busy. You found that ironic. It seemed you attracted sorcerers. Particularly the arrogant, dark haired variety with a caustic wit.

The other sorcerer, the first one, had been on your mind so much of late. It was only natural, you supposed. Thor, the golden Thunder God, had been splashed all over the television. It was almost comical watching the people of this planet fall under his spell as so many had before. You could not blame them; Thor was charming, handsome, noble, all that a God should be. If he did not have hair as dark as midnight and eyes as green as moss, well, not everyone cared for that. And if he was a bit dim it had never seemed an impediment before.

"Well hello there, little fellow! And you too, big fellow!" a booming voice interrupted your revelry.

You stopped in your tracks, all of the air rushing from your lungs in one gush. You had exchanged barely ten words with Thor in your time on Asgard, but you knew his voice. Turning to the side of the path, you looked down into the small ravine carved out by a little waterfall to your left. There, as if conjured by your memory, was a hulking figure with bright blond hair and bulging muscles. He was hunkered down on his knees, petting the dark fur of a large black dog you were all to familiar with.

For all the combined space taken up by the blond God and the frisky Labrador however, they barely occupied a moment of your notice. No, the figures below who had taken the very air from your body and caused your heart to beat so loudly that it threatened to deafen you were the two slim, black haired ones standing to either side of the clearing.

It was unfair, drastically, extraordinarily unfair, how handsome Loki still was after all this time. Dressed as he was now in Earth clothes, he was somehow even more remarkable to look at. It was as if his unparalleled beauty was rendered even more exquisite in the ordinary (though you were sure exorbitantly expensive) black suit he wore. He had filled out since the last time you had seen him. The youth you had loved so dearly with all your heart solidifying into a man with all his soft edges filed away.

Unable to endure the sight of him any longer, your eyes flickered to the boy facing him. Once more your heart beat a wild tattoo. It the dark hair, smooth and brushed back from his face, the straight spine and haughty tilt of the head, you had always known how much they resembled his father, but seeing them now, face to face, it was like looking back into your youth when the two princes of Asgard had first come into the city in search of tokens for their mother and stumbled into her parents' shop. Only his eyes, the color of your own, were different from the boy you had met then.

"Loki," Lael spoke in a commanding voice, "behave yourself!"

Oh sweet Norns, you thought, suddenly finding your feet and hurrying around the bend towards the figures in the clearing.

"I bed your pardon," came the voice you had never thought to hear again. The one that made your stomach launch into butterflies and your mouth go bone dry.

"My dog, sir," your son's voice carried through the trees.

"You dog is named Loki?" Thor guffawed.

"Yes sir. My mother named him. It is a noble name. The name of a God."

"It is indeed," Loki's low, dark voice agreed. "And what do you know of the God Loki, boy?"

"He was the Trickster, sir. The smartest, cleverest God ever to exist. He was a warrior, and could best any of the other Gods at fighting, but chose instead to use his superior intelligence and his magic. My mother also says he was the most handsome, but that is not important."

"On the contrary," Loki purred. "I find it very important. And where is your mother, boy? Aren't you a bit young to be cavorting about by yourself?"

"I'm old enough," he huffed, puffing out his chest. "And besides, Loki will protect me. But here she comes now."

You skidded around the final bend and came to an ungainly stop just behind Lael. You hand, shaking visibly, came to rest on your son's shoulder, and you drew him protectively to you. Lael resisted, squirming a bit and rolling his eyes like any boy his age but you held him firmly.

"I know I'm not to talk to strangers in the park," he said defensively, "but Loki liked them! And you know what good taste he has always had."

"Yes," Loki's voice sounded strange, almost strangled to your ears. "Yes he always has."

You swallowed, unable to speak. You were suddenly intensely aware of the careless state of your appearance. You never spent much time on it when you were not at work. It was not as though you were seeking to attract anyone; who could possibly draw your eye when you had lost your heart irrevocably to a God. To the God now standing before you with unblinking eyes.

"Wait," Thor's voice cut into the tension filling the clearing. "Don't I know you?"

"Distantly, Your Highness," you said, curtseying as well as you could in your jeans.

"You are from Asgard!" Thor smiled, placing you. "Your family owned the small shop that sold trinkets and books in the village."

"Indeed," you nodded, eyes still not leaving Loki's face.

"What in heaven's name are you doing on Midgard?" Thor asked, sounding baffled.

"Yes," Loki spoke at last. "I would like to know that as well."

"The All Father arranged it," you said, eyes going to the ground.

"You spoke to Odin?" Loki's voice was no more than a whisper.

"I did."

"Your idea or his?"

Painfully you dragged your eyes up to meet his. A world of pain, long remembered, shone in his eyes.

"Mine," you confessed. "The morning... the morning after."

"I see," he rasped.

"Loki?" Thor looked from one to the other of you.

"You deserted me," Loki's voice sounded as though it had been dragged across the rocks.

"He would have found out," you said, words coming in a rush. "He would have discovered us. Already he was suspicious. I went to him and asked what would happen if you bound yourself to a commoner."

"And?" Loki asked.

"It would not have been allowed."

"I would have liked to see them try to stop me!"

"You would have been stripped of your crown," you insisted. "Devested of all royal duty and privilege. I couldn't do that to you!"

"I would think that was rather for me to decide," he told you coldly. "Did you have so little faith in me? I would have denounced all titles, all rights, to be with you."

"I didn't want you to denounce anything!"

"Except you!"

"Mother, what is going on?"

"Mother?" Loki's eyes went larger as he looked, really and truly, looked at the boy before him. "Min kjaereste, who is this child? Have you... have you given yourself to another? An ant of Midgard? Where is he? Take me to him that I may eviscerate him for having dared lay a hand on what is mine!"

"Loki," Thor grabbed his arm.

"My father is gone!" Lael said defiantly, flipping his hair back from where the wind had blown it in his face. "But he was not an ant! He was a Prince! And one day he will be a King!"

"Lael, hush!" you said, blinking tears from her eyes. "Loki. Look at him."

Loki stared, wild eyed, at Lael and slowly understanding lit in his eyes.

"Lael?" he whispered.

"It means God," you said quietly.

"When did you know?" Loki asked.

"I found out the last day we met. I wanted to tell you that night in the garden, but I couldn't find the words. I went to Odin to see... to see if we would be allowed. To be together."

"What did the old man say?" surprisingly, it was Thor who growled the question.

"I told you, Loki would be forbidden to see me. Cast out if he disobeyed."

"And? There is more than that, is there not?"

"He was..." you closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself enough to speak your greatest fear, "he was going to take Lael. When he was born."

"Father has many flaws, but he would never hurt a child!" Thor shook his head.

"Are you so sure of that?" there was murder in Loki's voice.

"He would not be harmed," you rushed to assure them. "He would be placed with a family far away, on another planet. There were reasons, he said, why he could not allow a child of Loki's to be seen on Asgard and acknowledged."

"I can turn blue," Lael said proudly, startling both men and causing you to gasp. "I am not supposed to talk about it, accept around special people, but Mother this must count!"

"Lael!" you scolded, earning a sullen pout from your son.

"He is - like me?" Loki asked, fear in his voice.

"Sometimes," you replied, squeezing your son. "I have a friend. A sorcerer, though not like you. Steven Strange. I believe you know him, Thor. He has cast an illusion so that Lael can only turn blue when I allow it."

"It's not fair," Lael sulked.

"So Odin wanted to send him away. To hide my shame."

"Or his own," you cut in. "He is the one who should feel shame, after all, kidnapping a baby and lying for all those years."

"Odin and shame do not keep company, believe me," Loki said harshly. "He sent you away."

"I had a choice, such as it was. Stay in Asgard and have the child taken from me at birth, or go away before his arrival and remain with him in exile. Leave you, or leave our child."

"You didn't think to tell me?" Loki's voice betrayed a heartache that cut you nearly to the quick. "I could have protected you, min kjaereste."

"There was no time. He was sending me away, to exile or a cell. I chose to protect what we had created, and I would do so again!"

"I never knew," Loki staggered forward and knelt before Lael, searching his face with an intensity that bordered on frightening. "I had a fight with Father that day. I told him that I planned to ask for your hand, and he laughed at me. Asked what family in their right mind would wed their daughter to one disowned. I decided to call his bluff and sought out your parents, but when I got there they said you had run away. That while you cared for me, you did not want to suffer for my disgrace."

"Loki, no!" you breathed in horror.

"You didn't run away from me?" he asked, looking up at you with hope in his eyes.

"Never, my love," you shook your head, ignoring your tears.

"Mother," Lael broke out of your embrace at last and stumbled. Loki's quick arm shot out to steady him. One look at the small shoulder beneath his hand and Loki let out a cry of pure emotion. Canine Loki began barking, leaping about around the pair in the center of the clearing. "Tell me what is going on!"

"Lael," you said, looking over at the dark prince with his hand resting on your son. "I would like you to meet two old friends of mine. This is Thor, and this is Loki."

"Mother, your being silly!"

"She is not," Thor said seriously, winking at your son. "Those are our names."

"Then your parents were silly," he said.

"Our father, certainly. But our mother was very wise. Just like yours. I'll tell you what, Lael, it looks like your pup wants to run. What say we indulge him for a moment."

Loki made a panicked noise as Thor swooped Lael up onto his shoulders, but Thor smiled reassuringly at him.

"We will not be far. I think you two have a bit to say to one another."

As Thor trotted off with the boy and dog happily whooping, Loki stood up and took your hand between his long, white fingers.

"Min kjaereste," he said. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"For what?" you asked, confused.

"For not believing in you," he said, eyes, welling with tears. "For not moving earth and sky to find you. For leaving you to raise our son alone. Our son! I have a son!"

"You do," you smiled. "Loki, there is nothing to forgive. It was my mistake, going to Odin."

"It is what we are taught to do," he laughed hollowly. "Bring our problems to the All Father."

"Well, I will never do so again," you said witsh feeling.

"I hope you do not mean that, my love," he said quietly.

"Surely you don't think I could ever trust Odin after what he has put us all through?"

"Never," Loki shook his head. "But Odin is no longer the All Father. He is gone, darling. Gone to Valhalla. It is why I am here, to see Thor."

"Ah, then Thor will become King at last?"

"It was the plan," Loki said, playing with your fingers. "But he does not wish to take the throne. He has renounced Asgard and chosen to remain on Midgard."

"But that means..." you stared, open mouthed at Loki.

"The throne is mine," he nodded. "As of now I am the All Fathe of the Nine Realms."

Slowly, with great reverence, you sank to your knees on the dirt before him.

"My King," you said gravely, kissing his hand.

"Darling," he smiled at you, "there is one reason and one reason only I ever want to see you on your knees. And unfortunately, this is neither the time nor the place for that."

"Loki!" you gasped, a heat flushing your face as he helped you to your feet.

"Asgard needs a Queen, my love," he told you, "and I have told Thor already that I will have none but you."

"But can not be allowed!"

"I am the All Father," he grinned. "And I am Loki. I do what I want. And I want, I very, very much want you, my only love. Say you still want me as well?"

The insecurity on his final words sliced you to the heart. With a cry of joy you through your arms around him and lost yourself in that long remembered intoxication of his embrace. His kiss was just as you remembered, but even more desperate. You wished with all of your heart you were someplace private that you could allow the feelings, long kept shut up behind the highest walls, to over come you and lead to their inevitable conclusion. Loki was right, though. It was neither the time nor place. Reluctantly you untangled yourself from about him and smiled into his brilliant eyes.

"I have something for you," he told you fondly. With a wave of his hand he drew from nowhere a delicate white flower, perfectly formed. "I kept it, from our last night together, safe in my pocket dimension. As long as I had it, I could dream that I had you."

As you took the flower from his hand, your eyes overflowed with tears. He was perfect, just like the blossom.

"But I have nothing to give you," you told him, upset.

"Nonsense. You have given me a son, and you have given me hope. I never thought to have either. Now come, before Thor corrupts the boy more than we can undo in this lifetime!"

"As you wish, my King," you smiled.

Loki raised your hand to his lips and kissed your palm. He tucked it into his arm and started to walk, but stopped momentarily and turned to face you.

"One thing, my heart," he said, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes?" you asked.

"You named the dog Loki?"

"He was our protector!" you giggled, as Loki rolled his eyes.

"I see. Well, I suppose we shall have to take him with us. And just when I have finally gotten rid of Thor!"

@yespolkadotkitty @caffiend-queen @hopelessromanticspoonie @nonsensicalobsessions @devilish--doll @hiddlesholic @wolfsmom1

#fic #fiction #fanfic #loki #loki fic #loki/you #loki/reader #angst #fluff #romance #forbidden romance #tryst

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diyunho · 4 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Queen Of The Damned”

In the whole eternity, The Queen of the Underworld only loved once: he was mortal and died shortly after she gave him a child. So when The Joker says he’s a Prince, he’s not actually lying or being a presumptuous lunatic: the green haired man is in fact royalty and sole heir to The Realm Below.

“Stop fidgeting!!!” the nurse admonishes. “This is a new experimental drug and it will help you, OK?” she tries to reason with the patient confined inside a straitjacket, heavy chains bounding him to the metal table.

“Let me go!” he hisses and tries to bite her as she checks his neck for pulse.

“I can’t let you go, Mister Joker. We’re trying to make you better, alright?” the caregiver dodges his teeth before J can sink them in her flesh.

“If you don’t untie me, my Mother will come!!! She doesn’t like it if I’m in danger!”

“Shut the hell up, you insane bastard!” the attending physician can’t hold in his bitterness while mixing the serum.

“Doctor Reeves!” the woman raises her voice. “That’s not the way we talk! I know you are new at Arkham Asylum, but I would really appreciate it if you treat our cases with respect!”

“I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes for his unprofessional remark. “He gets on my nerves!”

“Yes well… Please keep your personal opinions to yourself because they’re not doing any good! The patient is very agitated; would you like me to take over?” she offers and gets cut off.

“I don’t need your expertise, I’m a doctor for God’s sake!”

“I wasn’t implying otherwise,” the nurse sighs at his obvious crankiness; why does she have to be stuck during the night shift with Reeves?! Arkham’s South Wing is already harboring the worst criminals and a psychiatrist that took the job for the thrills can’t possibly render assistance to the troubled convicts incarcerated here.

“I’m done,” he taps the syringe and approaches The Joker when the lights suddenly flicker. “Another power outage?! The storm is not that bad!” the guy rants and doesn’t realize the prisoner is not struggling to escape anymore.

“My Mother’s coming!” the most demented smile flourishes on The Joker’s lips. “I warned you!” he maniacally starts laughing with delight. “You should have listened!”

A low rumble shakes the immense building and the convoluted hallways fill up with mist: the Queen of The Realm Below steps in the world of the living again, surrounded by her loyal army of twisted warriors.

“Protect The Prince!” the invisible wraiths shriek, crawling on the walls in order to destroy the cameras. Some fly through brick and metal with the sole purpose of fulfilling their ruler’s command: no greater honor than aid her son trapped in the human kingdom.

He often gets in trouble and somehow miraculously vanishes or avoids hazardous situations; this is his first time at Arkham and the authorities will believe tonight’s events are an inside job or simply an elaborate breakout plotted by The Joker’s team.

Ironically enough The King of Gotham is not even crazy: his mind works on a totally different level due to the unearthly heritage. There is no cure for a person that’s not sick, no medicine or therapy allegedly mending something that’s not fractured.

“Why isn’t the generator kicking in?” Reeves stares at the ceiling and the nurse carefully listens, pointing out a disturbing detail:

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” the doctor crinkles his nose. “It’s silent.”

“Exactly,” she mutters. “Why is it so quiet?”

“I have no idea,” he prepares to poke The Joker’s arm when the halogen bulbs instantly go out. “Ana, can you…” the psychiatrist mumbles as the lights turn back on. “Finally!” he turns towards the woman and gasps at the frightening apparition standing next to him. Your sword whooshes in the stillness and the corpse falls to the ground, abruptly followed by the caregiver’s: both didn’t have the opportunity to process what they saw by pure coincidence. It was gone in a second along with their existence.

The Queen towers over the medical ward, slowly taking off her helmet; her hair intensely burns, eternally fueled by the fires of The Underworld.

“You came!” The Joker face brightens up with pure happiness noticing the creatures’ claws release him from his constraints: they grumble, coo and chirp seeing The Prince is safe and sound; he pets a few kneeling at his feet while rushing in your arms. “Mother!” J sniffles and you hold him tight until his body relaxes a little bit.

“Are you hurt?” you whisper and your son pouts, burying his cheeks in the cold silver of your plated armor.

“No,” the muffled word prompts a kiss on his forehead; The Joker lets go, unwilling to watch his mother depart: he’s aware she can’t linger for too long, yet the desire to stay close to her never fades. “When are you going to take me with you?” the piercing blue eyes inherited from his father glare into yours.

“Soon,” the elusive reply makes him frown.

“You promised and I’m always left behind!”

How can you explain why he’s still here?... J wouldn’t comprehend what coming with you to The Realm Below means: he would have to get rid of his mortal shell and you just don’t have the strength to witness him die.

Despite the horrifying moniker, The Queen of The Damned is neither good nor evil; her actions are invariably guided by circumstances.

She takes care of lost, damaged spirits and although powerful and feared, Y/N is also the recipient of her legions’ constant devotion, for no other Monarch of The Underworld ever enjoyed being cherished by its subject as much as you are.

The abomination born from her love with a human didn’t diminish the horde’s allegiance: it actually made them adore The Queen more because affection is desperately craved in The Realm Below and they can’t wait to have a Prince willing to share his Mother’s duties!

But The Joker’s arrival keeps on getting postponed…

“You know what I’ll do?” J mischievously snickers. “I’m gonna call my crew and tell them to pick me up. The mystery of how I’m able to walk out of this place without their intervention will drive them nuts! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” his sinister chuckle resonates in the room; he feels such gratification thinking about it one could presume he’s in a cheerful disposition. “Did you clear the path for me?” The Prince inquires and the entities snarl, excited he’s paying attention to their mighty deeds. “Perfect!” your son praises. “I’ll signal when to open the gates, ok?”

They growl at his approval and you have to interrupt the joyful mood:

“I have to go…”

“Is dad waiting for you?” J asks, already guessing the answer.

“Yes,” you nod and reassure: “Don’t worry, I’ll return when you need me!”

Before the sentence ends The Queen disappears, abandoning her descendant inside the Arkham Asylum. The Joker sulks, upset he can’t follow you and gets distracted by the commotion created on the other side of Block H: apparently some guards weren’t annihilated as expected.

“You said you cleared the path!” he scolds and picks up the phone, dialing Frost’s number. “No matter, I’ll get reinforcements and we’ll make this a party on our own, hm?” the silver grin widens at the concept of fighting his way out himself.

In the meantime, J’s mother materializes by the Endless Wall that separates The Realm Below from The Realm Above: its transparent, glass like composition is meant to keep you apart from the man you love. Why?

The response is easy: The King reigning over The Realm Above always craved your fondness and felt betrayed when you gave your attention to a mere human; deciding to give Kai a child was the epitome of mockery for the jealous emperor. He never accepted your choices had nothing to do with him. Thus he took the matters in his own hands and ensured Kai’s demise, making certain you won’t be able to save him: the mortal you loved was killed in a car crash and went to The Realm Above, which was the plan all along. Since The Joker’s father was at peace when he passed and not a lost, broken soul, he didn’t wind up in your kingdom; The Emperor sealed the borders as soon as Kai appeared on his domain, making sure you won’t touch or hear each other again.

You tried to break the spell without success: only the one that casted such magic could reverse it and The King has no intention to do so. He likes torturing The Queen of The Damned and her beloved, that’s why he lingers in the shadows to glutton at their agony every time they meet.

Today is no exception and it sure brings The Emperor great comfort to view the aftermath of his revolting actions: it probably hurts because you’re unable to do more than gaze at the man you love. Such a fit punishment for a stuck-up Queen rejecting his proposal. You sure got what you deserved! All the powers you possess are useless against his impenetrable curse unleashed out of pure resentment.

Hmm… what’s going on?... You suddenly seem flustered and The King is trying to estimate on the motive; Kai keeps on calling your name, yet you can’t discern the sounds anyway. You swiftly fade in a hurry, neglecting to wave goodbye for a valid pretext: the sharp ache in your chest alerted that something awful happened to your son.

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

The Joker is lying on the floor, almost unconscious from the blood loss. The red stain under him is growing bigger and bigger, reaching the collapsed security officers that stood between J and his freedom. He was overly hyped and decided to create mayhem: being reckless provoked the dark side of his personality and he didn’t wait for his gang nor allowed the wraiths to intervene.

The Clown Prince of Crime definitely counts on his Mother’s aid, therefore he doesn’t have to worry about consequences to his endeavors. He trusts you won’t fail to show up and get him out of messy situations like this one.

“M-mother…”, The Joker wheezes as you hover over him. “Mother… h-help me…”, he begs and your hesitation puzzles your heir; his father distracted you and in exchange J got severely injured.

“… …. …. I won’t… I can’t have your father, but I’ll take you…” The Queen confesses, adamant to overcome her delay in fulfilling his wish for years. Maybe she won’t be determined like she is now if another chance will arise in the future.

“Really?...” the hope in his tone makes you sadder. “Mother…” he winces in pain, trying to touch you. “Please h-help me…It…it hurts…”

You grab his fingers and squeeze them in yours, pecking his tattooed knuckles.

“I know…I’m sorry…”

“W-why won’t you…” and he pauses, taking a last labored breath, “…help m-me?!...”

His eyelids are closing, the individual labeled as one of the worse criminals lastly fleeing the prison of his mortal half. The Joker is dead and The Prince of The Realm Below emerges from his remains, stunned to wake up next to you.

“Mother?...” he blinks and you cup his face, relieved you had the courage to do what you deferred in the past.

“It’s ok,” you smile. “You’ll get used to the sensation, give it a few moments,” you pass your hand to his burning hair, amazed at the terrifying beauty he was blessed with thanks to his ancestry.

“Boss!!!”

“Mister Joker!!”

“Mister J, where are you?” the questions echo in the deserted Block H: his henchmen finally infiltrated the area, spooked at the unnerving feeling that something is shady. When they arrived, the Asylum’s gates were open; nobody around on the street, no guards, no medical personnel, nobody they could spot anywhere on their way to pick up The Joker as instructed.

“Over here!” Frost shouts and rushes to The Joker’s corpse, swiftly taking his pulse. “Shit!” he mumbles when he detects no heartbeat.

“What the fuck?!” Panda is the second to stumble on the scene, baffled to notice his employer covered in blood wearing just a pair of sweatpants.

“We need to get out this instant!” Frost commands as the others join the small group. “Help me carry him!”

“J?..” a woman’s voice emerges. “J?” the visibly pregnant Ava runs on the empty corridor. “Oh my God!” she panics when she sees them trying to lift him up. “J?” she gently caresses his face, panicked when there’s no movement. “Is he dead?” she presses on his wounds and starts crying since the guys are quiet. “Aren’t you going to do anything??!!” she screams, desperate to acknowledge not too much can be done.

“… Mother…” The Prince articulates and you already predict his request: “… Can I stay?”

Who else understands him better to begin with? He loves the mortal and you can relate to his anguish. Of course he wants to go with you also, yet there are things that are holding him back in the human world.

“I suppose I’m condemned to ages of loneliness…” you utter and give him a violent nudge before you change your mind.

The Prince falls back into his body; The Joker gasping for air makes Frost and Panda almost drop him on the marble floor.

“J!” Ava exclaims in disbelief. “Baby??!!” she brings her ear to his lips because he’s saying something.

“Mother… Mother…” J faintly repeats and the woman misinterprets. “Yes, I’m going to be a mom and you’re going to be a dad. You already know this, hm?” she caresses his face. “Be careful!” Ava reprimands as they wrap Richard’s jacket around The Joker and Panda drags a stretcher next to them.

“Jesus boss, we thought we lost you!” Jonny adds and barely deciphers his reply:

“You’re not that lucky…”

The Joker keeps staring at The Queen and the army hidden to the rest of them: she’s leaving and although weakened, he wants to apologize for generating more sorrow when she doesn’t deserve it.

“Forgive me…” J whispers and your last words only he can discern give him unexpected bliss:

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

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

You come near the transparent wall, seeking to find consolation even if it’s impossible: Kay is on the other side, the palm of his right hand against the invisible barrier. You cover it with yours, wishing you could tell him so much but what’s the point?... He can’t hear you.

“I couldn’t bring him with me,” The Queen whispers nevertheless. “He wanted to stay… and I couldn’t force him…”

Something is trickling down your face and you touch it, confused.

What is this?! Tears don’t exist in The Underworld; a few drip on the barrier and it starts sizzling to your legion’s dismay. They sniff the bubbly fumes, curiously scratching at the expanding chain reaction: the wall is melting.

You and Kay watch the gap becoming larger and larger until there’s enough space to fit. Is this real or an illusion?!

I guess you’ll have to find out so you take a few shaky steps towards him, not being able to suppress your astonishment when he yanks you in his arms.

The Emperor is lurking in the shadows, furious his unbreakable magic is dissipating with each passing moment. Your warriors are granted free passage again and they spill inside The Kingdom Above, howling while awaiting orders.

As she hugs the man she loves, The Mother of lost spirits sneers through her clenched teeth:

“Attack!”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker #the joker suicide squad #joker #joker fanfiction #joker jared leto #joker suicide squad #mister j #Mistah J #dc #dcu #joker imagine

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fatefulfaerie · 4 years

Text

Hindsight: Part Six

Hi, this is it, the last part. I’ve got out all the ideas bouncing around in my head. Now I can move on to different things.

Thanks for riding along this rocky journey. Mind the bumps.

Part One: https://fatefulfaerie.tumblr.com/post/611223241986621440/hindsight

Part Two: https://fatefulfaerie.tumblr.com/post/612674469072338944/hindsight-part-two

Part Three: https://fatefulfaerie.tumblr.com/post/613130181855543296/hindsight-part-three

Part Four: https://fatefulfaerie.tumblr.com/post/613206006943629312/hindsight-part-four

Part Five: https://fatefulfaerie.tumblr.com/post/613587613903945728/hindsight-part-five

Part Six:

Link clutched her as the desert of Gerudo whizzed past them, Zelda’s breath becoming shakier and less consistent.

Through blurry slits she saw his face, from an angle slightly downward, his gaze on the horizon.

“Link?” She asked. “What happened?”

“Nothing, Zelda,” He said. “Conserve your energy.”

“But…” she tried. “Are you okay?”

Link couldn’t help but smile.

“Everything is okay,” he said. “Relax, I’ve got you.”

They were finally coming up on Gerudo Town, Link practically hopping off his shield as the sand seal bounded away.

He ran to the entrance with panted breaths.

“Hey!” he exclaimed with what little energy he had. “It’s the Princess! She needs a doctor!”

The two Gerudo guards hurried to her aid, one of which taking her in her arms quite easily.

Without even a thank you to Link, they hurried off into the town. Link was glad that they didn’t pay attention to him, his red Yiga garb only concealed by the darkness of the night.

He knew he needed to stay back, but his heart compelled him to mindlessly walk forward. He tracked her with his worried and melted eyes before two spears crossed in front of him.

“No voe allowed!” two new Gerudo guards boomed.

Where did they even come from?

Link nodded silently, trying to look over their spears to the distance beyond, but she was gone.

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

Zelda blinked her eyes open, her head tipping over on her pillow to see two Gerudo women in conversation.

They were both quite old, shortened by age, but even then they were still taller than her.

She furrowed her brow as she tried to focus her mind on what they were saying. Zelda was only able to pull the word “castle” from their whispers before she was spotted.

“Your Highness,” one of them said calmly, only barely turning herself to her.

“What happened?” Zelda asked as she sat herself up. She had no idea why she was in bed, as she felt completely fine.

Suddenly there was a sharp soreness in her stomach, Zelda wincing as she shut her eyes tight.

“You were attacked by a Yiga,” one of them explained. “Lady Urbosa herself is beyond glad that we found you. Your father will be pleased that you are safe as well.”

Zelda looked around the room quickly, remembering with a panic.

“Where is--!”

She stopped herself.

For goodness sake, she still didn’t even know his name.

“Where is who, Your Highness?”

“The...the guy who brought me in. Where is he?”

The two Gerudo exchanged glances of confusion.

“You were brought in by the front guards,” one of them said. “There was no guy.”

Zelda looked away with a sharp inhale.

So that was it? She was back in the clutches of Hyrule and nothing else mattered? She was safe, sure, but did he, what, drop her off? After everything?

Maybe it wasn’t anything.

“Even if there was someone, Your Highness, we would have no idea. You were brought to us by a guard. He must have left.”

“Left? What...what...how...how could he?”

“You forget, Your Highness, no voe are allowed in the town, he may not have had a choice.”

“Oh,” Zelda said as her eyes sank, drifting to a table at her bedside. “Right.”

She wondered if he’d ever come back as she looked to the white fabric covered in splotches of blood, the arrow that had created the fatal wound in the first place.

Her brow knitted as a piece of parchment caught her eyes, with the letter “Z” inked upon it.

“Your Highness?” she heard. “Would you care for anything? Water, perhaps?”

“Uhm,” she said as she tore her glance away from the parchment, looking at the women.

“Yes please,” she said with a nod. “Thank you.”

One of them left, the other staying as she took a seat.

“You’re on the road to recovery you know,” the woman said trying to make conversation. But Zelda had grabbed the parchment, her eyes studying the other side. “You’re lucky you made it here in time.”

‘Back of GT ASAP’ she reread, as she let out a smile. The giddy expression and coloration on her cheeks was not lost on the Gerudo.

“What’s that?” she heard, Zelda’s head popping up at the reminder that someone was still here.

“Nothing,” Zelda said, throwing it back to the table like it meant nothing. “Just some trash.”

“Let me see,” the Gerudo said, standing up and grabbing it off the table before Zelda could even think of a way to object.

The woman, to Zelda’s surprise, snickered when she read it.

“I apologize, Your Highness,” she said. “This must be some note I wrote down and forgot the meaning for. I’ll dispose of it quickly.”

The Gerudo sauntered out, emptying the room.

Zelda immediately thought to take the opportunity, running out of the room and the town whilst ignoring her pain.

She looked to her left to see the corner that, if turned, might lead her to him.

Or to complete disappointment, she thought as her back met the wall next to it. To no one being there, to the conclusion that he had taken the opportunity to run from his problems and leave her to her own.

She couldn’t blame him, of course. Just being in the desert as a disgraced Yiga was suicide, not even considering his red garb making him an enemy to the rest of Hyrule as well.

So she told herself it was okay as she turned the corner with closed eyes and anticipatory breaths. It was okay if he wasn’t here, in the back of Gerudo Town as soon as possible.

Her eyes squinted open, peering for any silhouette.

Her heart leapt when she saw one, a sigh of relief opening her eyes.

Obviously, he didn’t she her, sitting casually against the wall eating a banana.

She inhaled to call after him, shout his name and signal some fairytale reunion to take place.

But Zelda didn’t know his name.

“Hey,” she said instead, striding towards him casually.

Link looked to her quickly, scrambling to standing and incidentally dropping his banana to the ground.

His sigh of relief was heavy.

“I don’t know what god or goddess to thank, but I’m so glad you’re okay.”

They had never hugged before, but the way Link took her into his arms was so intoxicatingly familiar that Zelda didn’t think it awkward at all.

“Link,” he said, as he let her go.

“Huh?” Zelda retorted.

“That’s my name, Link,” he said, Zelda smiling. “You’re Zelda, right?”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Zelda said, stepping back and offering her hand.

“Yeah,” he said with a chuckle, shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Zelda let out a small laugh as well.

“I don’t usually meet people like this.”

“Oh,” Link said teasingly, closing the distance. “You don’t.”

Zelda brought a hand to the back of his neck.

“Usually the greeting comes first, then the introductions,” Zelda started to explain, her voice becoming a whisper, Link’s arms settling along the small of her back. “No kidnappings, no trickery, just conversations.”

Her body was now flush to his.

“So you talk,” Link said. “Get to know the other person for who they truly are, and then…”

Their words were breathless, and so were their lungs. Their lips were brushing against each other.

“Then,” Zelda finished. “If you’re lucky, you fall in love.”

Their kiss was as the greatest relief, them sinking into, enrapturing the other.

“Are you so inclined,” Link asked, their point of connection changing from their lips to their forehead. “Your Highness, to love me like I do you? For that luck to fall upon both of us? I know it’s only been a few days, but...I feel for you everything I’ve never felt before.”

Zelda nodded quickly.

“You are the freedom I seek,” Zelda said. “I will always be inclined.”

Link closed and opened his eyes with sigh, the weight of his forehead releasing from hers.

“How are we going to do this?”

“That’s the one question I didn’t want you to ask.”

“I think it needs to be addressed.”

Zelda bit her lip in thought, looking at him as she considered the options.

“Run away with me,” Zelda implored. “We can leave all this behind, all this history. Just us, our future.”

“Zelda…”

“Please.”

“Hyrule is here. Your future is here. I’m not a part of it. You have obligations.”

“Screw obligation, I love you. I want you, nothing else. They can elect someone else, they don’t need me to birth an heir.”

“Look,” Link started. “I can’t tell you to go back there without making myself a hypocrite. But, I don’t want you resenting me for this choice.”

“I won’t,” she insisted. “Link...this is all I’ve wanted. I’m not a Princess and I’m not who they think I am. You get to flee from your past, so please, let me come with you.”

“Where?”

“I’ve read books...books of people who studied the stars, people...people who thought our world was round...that other lands exist beyond our own.”

“And you think that’s true?”

Zelda nodded.

“We could sail away,” she implored, her eyes deep in his. “Away from everything.”

Link chuckled with glee, his thumb caressing her cheek as he brought his forehead back to hers.

“And...if we fall off the edge…”

“Then we will greet that horizon together.”

#yiga!link #zelda #link #zelda au #zelink au

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msjr0119 · 5 years

Text

Hold On

Part 25 - A premature arrival

Nobody got injured at the Homecoming ball, they all get separated into different safe houses- for safety.

Riley and Drake had confirmed that they had feelings for each other, however Drake believed Riley should be with Liam. Heartbroken, she moves back to New York. Only keeping in touch with Hana, Maxwell and Olivia.

Riley meets lawyer, Nate Cooper and begins a relationship with him. In Cordonia, Drake begins to court Kiara.

Nine months after Riley had left Cordonia- there is a reunion, but not the reunion the friends had hoped for.

*Characters belong to Pixelberry*

If you are under 18 please do not read this series. If you do you are consenting that you are over the age.

Series warnings: Suicide, domestic abuse, swearing, stabbing, smut🍋 If any of these triggers affect you do not read!

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs

******

“So after brunch, I assume the King and Queen will want some aloneeee time.... But who’s ready for the real party? As it’s a Beaumont wedding- well sort of. You’re all invited to the after party at House Beaumont later tonight, to celebrate our sister getting married!”

Riley and Liam couldn’t wait to go and spend time alone together- with no distractions. They were now officially married. Discreetly they sneaked off up to their Chambers- informing Maxwell that they wouldn’t be attending the Beaumont bash, as they wanted their wedding day/night to be just the three of them. Maxwell was dramatically upset at first- but explained that they would all celebrate anyway.

Carrying his Queen over the threshold, Liam gently placed his wife on the leather couch. Pouring her a glass of water, he couldn’t take his eyes of her- he was in awe of her. The beauty radiating around her.

“I love you Queen Riley of Cordonia.”

Riley hearing these words still sounded so surreal.

“I love you too, King Liam of Cordonia. Who’d have thought that we’d have ended up here?”

“Not me for sure. I’m glad to have you back in my arms. The time apart from each other was torture. I’m going to love you both for as long as I live. How about a little siesta before we have something to eat?” The king smirked at his Queen, with passion and desire in his eyes.

“Siesta? Is that what they call it now your Majesty?” Oh god he’s so sexy with that smirk- I know exactly what you mean Liam.

“Of course. But I can’t promise that I won’t be able to keep my hands off of my gorgeous wife.”

*****

7 Months after Liam and Riley’s wedding ceremony.

Riley was now glowing at 37 weeks pregnant. Hoping that these next three weeks go quick, as everywhere she turned the little princess would knock everything and anything over. Getting frustrated with waddling anywhere she really wanted to invest in a mobility scooter- I am Queen, they may get me one if I ask nicely.

Liam had left Cordonia for two days of meetings in Greece the prior day. He didn’t want to leave her, but she promised to FaceTime him constantly over the two days to prove she was fine. Last night, she placed the phone to her bump so Liam could speak to his daughter. His daughter was doing backflips in Riley’s stomach responding to her daddy’s voice- he couldn’t contain the smile on his face. He was desperate to return home to his wife.

At brunch, Riley had experienced a shooting pain. She just ignored it as the Doctor said she would be expecting braxton hicks throughout the last few weeks of pregnancy. Olivia had noticed the colour drain from her face- and immediately excused herself from the table to find Leo.

“Leo, I know she’s not due to pop that thing out yet. But she doesn’t look well. I don’t want to worry her or Liam but I think the little princess is eager to make appearance.”

Leo looked over towards Riley- Olivia was talking sense, she didn’t look her usual self and she kept holding her stomach every ten minutes. Shit!

“Liv that ‘thing’ is my niece. I need to get Liam back. Try ringing Bastien and I will contact Liam.”

*****

Riley jolted up from her seat knocking champagne and food all over Drake and Hana. The married couple looked at each other concerned, as they stood up clearing the mess that Riley had caused.

“Shit!” Riley screamed in excruciating pain- holding her stomach protectively.

“Brooks? What’s up? Are you okay?”

Riley pulled Drake towards her- gritting her teeth she was tugging on his infamous denim jacket. He looked over towards his wife Hana for reassurance that Riley wasn’t going to potentially throttle him.

“Do I fucking look all right Drake... the fucking baby is coming.... It’s too early... get your best friend back here now!”

Drake stood frozen, before trying to unloosen her tight grip she had on him. His feet suddenly became damp- much to his annoyance. He assumed she had leaked a little accident due to the baby kicking her in the bladder too much.

“Brooks...Why are my feet wet? Have you pissed yourself? You need to let me go so I can ring Li.”

“My waters broke you fucking dipshit!”

Riley fell to the floor, Hana tried to comfort her, speaking softly towards her. Telling her to breathe. Drake attempted ringing Liam up, shaking at the reality the heir was about to be born- fucking pick up your Majesty!

*****

“Liam!” For god sake Leo, I’ve been gone one day- What catastrophes have you caused already? Frustrated with his older brother, he just sighed regretting answering the phone.

“Leo. What’s up I’m in a meeting!”

“Liam fuck the meeting! Your daughter is making an early appearance! You need to get back now”

“Fuck! Look after her Leo, I’m leaving now.”

Liam ran to Bastien, I’m going to be a father today- Riley’s in labour. Get the jet ready ASAP! Quickly explain to everyone for me what has happened and send my apologies.

*****

Leo ran into the room, Hana had placed a cold compress on Riley’s head, and Drake looked in pain- Riley was practically breaking his hand- his grimace pleaded with Leo to take over. Man up Walker, let a real man help- Leo muttered as he shook his head at Drake.

“Ri. You’re doing great. But we need to get you to hospital. Liam is on his way back.” He said calmly holding her hands, his eyes fixated on her.

“It’s too early Leo...” she cried inbetween screaming.

Leo picked Riley up, cradling her in his arms he carried her to the SUV that was waiting for them. Hana grabbed Riley’s hospital bag from their chambers, quickly making sure everything was in- she was excited and nervous for her friend.

“Good luck Ri. We can’t wait to meet our niece. We will all meet you at the hospital. Love you.”

****

Arriving at the hospital, Leo was blinded by all the flashes in front of the car. The press were camping outside the hospital grounds, how they found out Leo didn’t know. He was furious. He demanded that the royal guards find another discreet way into the hospital. Riley looked exhausted already, he was hoping Liam would get here as soon as possible- to be the strength she required to get through it. Leo carried her into the private room, he didn’t want to waste time in waiting for the staff to get her a wheelchair. Placing his sister in law gently on the bed, he asked if she needed anything. I need Liam more now than ever. Leo’s heart sunk- he felt guilty for abdicating especially now in this situation. He wished that a bit of his bad influence had rubbed off onto Liam and for Liam to refuse his duties for once in his life. If Liam missed the birth of his first born, it would all be Leo’s fault. Right now he needed to stay strong for Riley.

“Your majesty, you are about 6cm dilated.”

6cm- that’s good. Hopefully it’ll go slow, give Liam time to arrive, Leo thought. Riley held onto her brother in law for dear life. He didn’t know what to do. She was swearing, she was in pain. At every contraction she would inhale the gas and air- it was taking the edge off the pain rather than blocking it. Even though she was feeling lightheaded - Leo was so proud at how she was coping. He now knew how Drake must of felt because she was making his hand turn blue. Did he care? No. She was providing him with a beautiful niece and an heir to the throne.

****

It had been three hours since they had arrived at the hospital. Liam was still nowhere to be seen. In the back of Leo’s mind, he was furious that Liam had to go for meetings in another country weeks before the birth of his first child, he couldn’t shake this constant thought away. He was knocked out of his trance when he heard a defeated Riley try to talk to him.

“Leo, I can’t .... I can’t do this.”

“Riley you are doing brilliantly. Liam will be here soon....”

Before he could continue the doors swung open, Liam ran upto Riley, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead- holding her clammy hand, he was trying to control his breathing after running into the private wing.

“Thanks Leo. Riley I’m so sorry I knew I shouldn’t have left you.”

“You son of a bitch! You are coming nowhere near me again... I’d have committed treason if you didn’t arrive in time....”

The two brothers looked at each other with worried looks - both gulping. Leo decided to leave them to it. His hand needed a break- and he didn’t want to be in the firing line of Riley’s aggressive insults.

“Riley. I’m here now. I love you.”

“I’m sorry for.... for... calling you that... I love you too my king. Arghhh.”

*****

“You’re majesty, one last push. I can see the baby’s head. Just one more, I promise.”

Riley was lacking energy, she was uncontrollably sweaty, out of breath. Liam had been supporting her as best as he could and she was grateful. One more push and she would be holding her daughter in her arms.

After one excruciating long push, the room was filled with tiny cries, Riley flung her head back- as the midwife weighed the baby. Relieved that it was finally over, she gave her husband a stern warning.

“Liam, I swear to god. You do not touch me ever again. I’m not going through this again.” Liam shook his head, ignoring her as he fixated his gaze on his daughter. Kissing and hugging his Queen, he was so utterly proud of her. Tears ran down his cheek, he didn’t care- he was overwhelmed with the view in front of him.

“Riley, she’s absolutely beautiful. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.”

The midwife brought the princess over to them, she weighed 6lb 9oz. She had sparkling baby blues like both her parents that kept fluttering open every so often accompanied by a jet black head full of hair. Riley laid her on her chest- having that mother/daughter skin to skin bond. All the pain she had disappeared as if it never existed. Stroking her daughters cheek, she had fallen in love instantly.

“Hello, my little girl. You have given us all a shock. I think Uncle Leo and Uncle Drake have both received broken hands because of your premature arrival. But I’m sure they’ll both forgive you. You are beautiful.”

Riley placed a kiss on the newborns head, Liam was just in awe seeing his two girls together for the first time. Grateful that he was able to make it in time. Liam held his daughters tiny fragile hand, she wrapped her hand around her father’s finger.

“She’s already wrapped around your little finger Li.”

“Riley, she’s... she’s a mini you. She’s beautiful. Daddy loves you so much our little miracle, our princess. You have completed our family. Daddy’s little girl.”

Riley smiled at Liam’s affectionate emotions towards their daughter. Moving up the bed so Liam could join them, the three of them snuggled close together. After all the shit they had been through, fate brought Riley and Liam back together and they had finally become a family.

The King and Queen Of Cordonia, would like to announce the birth of Her royal Highness Princess Ayah Rhys of Cordonia.

Weighing 6lb 9oz... born at 3.57pm.

We would like to congratulate the couple on this fantastic news. And we look forward to officially meeting our princess.

Ana De Luca - The trend

#theroyalromance #choices trr #riley brooks #liam rhys #leo rhys #liam x riley #drakewalker #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #hanalee #trr hold on

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harry-leroy · 4 years

Text

So @ticketybooser left some wonderful comments on my last George Warleggan fic that I posted (thank you for those! ❤️) - and so I got some ideas for continuing it. This doesn’t end in any particular spot, and it’s probably something I’m just going to keep adding onto as I feel like it. Leaving under the cut for length + angst. Also going to tag @forcebros because our boys!

From the door, another figure came into frame. Tall, imposing, he turned the lock and swung open the door. His eyes locked with Dwight’s. Impulsively, Dwight let go of George’s arm. It was Penrose.

“Ah, Dr. Enys,” he began, relieving the other doctor by means of a slight nod. “Word was going around that we might be expecting you here today. Come to call me other names? Or does ‘brute’ settle it for you?”

George stepped back, his shoulders tensing. Dwight had to steel his courage, which wavered in Penrose’s presence.

“I’ve come to take him home,” Dwight swallowed, remembering that his position was the right.

Penrose chuckled a little.

“Take him home?” He shifted on his feet, almost as if marking it as a jest. “Who said you would be allowed to do that?”

“He shouldn’t be here-“ Dwight began.

“As far as our procedures are concerned,” Penrose’s eyes narrowed on Dwight, as if sizing him up. “George will not be allowed to leave until he has received a clearance that his madness has been cured. You’ve been made aware, Dr. Enys, that he is one of the most stubborn patients we have yet come across,”

“So-“ Dwight attempted to interject.

“So the prospect isn’t likely,” Penrose almost sneered.

“So you are aware,” Dwight finished what he had to say, voice calm. “My claim to take him home is not under the basis that his condition has improved. In fact, I think it has become far worse since his arrival,”

“Worse?” Penrose gritted his teeth.

“Have you checked his pulse?” Dwight asked. “I think you’ll find it rather quick. Quicker than I am comfortable with,”

Penrose took a few short steps towards George and took his wrist. He was met with some resistance, though Penrose fought to get his way, nearly taking George off his feet when he pulled the wrist in his direction. There was a pause in the conversation, then a frown on Penrose’s face, followed by the wrist being thrown down at George’s side.

“Oh, so the kind and patient doctor has come to intervene,” Penrose mocked. “This is not a charity house, it’s a hospital,”

“So leaving a man with his pulse that high-“ Dwight began.

“George is not used to visitors. He is forbidden from seeing anyone from outside the hospital under normal circumstances; circumstances which I would like to keep in place,” Penrose explained, his patience running short.

“I’ve been made aware of that,” Dwight said.

Penrose blinked, trying to piece out if Dwight had said what he thought he had said.

“I’ve been told that his uncle and his son have been denied from seeing him on several occasions,” Dwight continued, deciding to then lower his voice. “Now his son has taken ill. He will not eat. George’s son is a growing young boy who needs nourishment,”

“Young boys should stay out of this,” Penrose said with an air of contempt.

“How about his uncle?” Dwight stepped closer to Penrose. “The stiffest man in Cornwall was nearly brought to tears by his nephew’s suffering,”

“For God’s sake, Enys!” Penrose snapped. “George Warleggan is gone from their lives now. He’s incurable. Do you hear me? Incurable,”

Dwight shuddered at the word. This whole time, George had been running his index finger along the windowsill in slow little patterns. They were the patterns on Elizabeth’s jewelry, though no one could guess that but him. He was used to men talking about him like this, and saw no more reason to intervene. That would only bring him more punishment.

“No,” Dwight shook his head, staring at Penrose, incredulous. “No. You’re wrong,”

Penrose scoffed, regaining his temper.

“And what are you going to do?” He challenged. “I’ve said it before, and I’ve said it again. Your lunatic methods go against all proven treatments,”

“And this isn’t lunatic?” Dwight nearly lost track of the conversation from the sheer exhaustion of trying to reason with this man. However, Penrose’s approaching figure, all the more menacing, all the more imposing, brought Dwight back.

“I could have you put away right now if I felt like it,” Penrose’s eyes were monstrous. “Your entire coming here has been nothing but an act of utter madness. If you think you’ve been destined to save George Warleggan of all people from my grasp then you are sorely mistaken!”

He started laughing under his breath, it was short, though enough.

“Pity,” he said. “The mad doctor. Believing he can cure the incurable. How shameful that would be for your charming wife to hear,”

The thought intruded into Dwight’s mind like a slippery worm. He thought of suffering as George had suffered. Aching. Alone. Without agency. He thought of Caroline. She would forget him, surely. She would marry some rich heir. The only child he could give her had died. Who was to say that the rest would not turn out the same? If they were given another? Another husband, a better husband would suit her more. The screaming down the hall brought him back to France. He felt his pulse quicken. He could not be a prisoner again.

“Dr. Enys?” Penrose recalled the man back from a horrid trance. “Don’t tell me that I have cause to act against you now,”

Dwight swallowed, still caught off guard by the doctor’s remark. His methods had been unpopular, yes, but they were far more humane and effective than anything that Penrose would do. No. Caroline loved him. France was behind him. If anything, George needed him now. If he could save one, it would be George Warleggan. Dwight was the sane man in the room. All the same, he was the odd man out.

“I think you’re forgetting who is now the head of the Cornwall Infirmary,” Dwight reminded him, and also himself. “I think you’re forgetting who they decided to turn down to place him there. If there are any issues with George Warleggan’s release into my care, you ought to take it up with him,”

Dwight turned back to George and took him gently by the hand, then began to walk with him towards the door of his room. As they walked, Dwight wrapped one of his arms around George’s shoulders, as if to protect him from Penrose as they went past.

“Come on, George,” Dwight said, his voice soft. “Let us leave this Hell,”

* * *

Valentine now felt as though he were deaf to Ursula’s incessant crying. He stared blankly at the ceiling from his bed, a soreness dragging him deeper into the mattress as he huddled against it for warmth. His chest felt heavy, like it did when his Mama died. No tears came though.

He might have been glad once to have his Papa gone, but that was when Cary was gone too. They were in London for the week, and would return on a Saturday night. There were often little gifts waiting for Valentine the next morning, expensive trinkets from the high street and sometimes the odd toy. In those times, he had his Mama. She was not always as attentive as he wanted her to be, but at least Papa was not there to argue with her. Now, his father was somewhere else entirely, very sick, maybe even dead. Valentine had decided that of all the ways to die, madness would be the worst. Once, it had been childbirth, though Valentine realized that it was not something that he would likely experience, and so madness took over the spot.

This way, the way he was at the moment, didn’t seem a bad way to go. Starvation. Not something he was taught to worry about; his Papa had made that adamant. But now he couldn’t remember the last time he ate anything. He didn’t want to. The thought made him nauseous.

Valentine wondered if this is how Papa sometimes felt after a fit. Lethargic. For a moment, he pictured himself a madman as he lie in the bed, locked in his room to sleep. It sounded cozy, thought Valentine, with a sense of irony that was too much for his tired young brain to analyze. Perhaps he would go back to sleep again, as he had been doing for days on end.

There was a soft knock at the door before he saw Cary enter. He hadn’t been expecting Cary. Normally, it had been Bessie or Lucy with some soup or something of the like, which often went untouched. He was told that Dr. Enys had come once and given him something to soothe him, but it was beyond his memory. Valentine thought for a moment to pretend to be asleep so he wouldn’t be bothered, but the thought didn’t come fast enough.

“What are you doing here?” Valentine asked, face feeling flushed and feverish.

Cary hesitated a moment before speaking.

“I came here to tell you that I spoke with Dr. Enys,” Cary decided to sit down on the side of the bed, causing the weight on the mattress to shift in a funny way. “About your father,”

The pressure on Valentine’s chest felt tighter and heavier than before. He was dead, the boy knew. It would be some gross story that his uncle would coat in sugar as best he could. Passed out naked on a bed of straw, wouldn’t wake up, hadn’t bathed in weeks. There was blood in his hair, but it was from a fight with a doctor some days earlier. His wrists were as red as cranberries. The welts on his back would have been enough to kill him, but George Warleggan didn’t go down easy - that was the image Valentine had spent the past few months imagining, the picture of his hypothetically dead father becoming more complex each time he thought about it. But that wasn’t the news at all.

“He’s coming home,” Cary said, a pained smile crossing his face for a brief moment. Cary was sorely unused to smiling at all, and the news was almost bittersweet, knowing well in his heart that he would have to see his nephew in a wretched condition once again.

“Oh,” Valentine said, almost too tired to react in any other way. The tenacious illness that grabbed him seemed to lessen his excitement. Or perhaps it was the fear of seeing that imaginary dead man walking.

#george warleggan #dwight enys #poldark fic #poldark au #poldark #valentine warleggan #my fic #ahhhhh #:’)

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magdaclaire · 5 years

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24 - “I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority.” with Winteriron?? 👀 Many please an' thank (Bonus points if Bucky says the quote) Ayyy

Thank you for the prompt, Z! You get a teenage, LDR winteriron that happens to be a Winteriron Bingo fill for me! Thank you for that, my friend!

Hope you enjoy - it’s well over a thousand words, so most of it is going under the cut!

Bucky is the first person to say that he’s a dumb, gay bitch. Well, he’s a dumb, bi bitch, but the integral parts are that he is really fucking stupid and loves boys. Well, one boy in particular, right now. He knows that he’s stupid as he writes what he’s writing, as he makes what he’s making, but he doesn’t care.

It’s 11:57pm, May 28th, Eastern Standard time. In three minutes, in Bucky’s time zone at least, it will be Tony’s birthday. Even though it’s another three hours until it’s time for Tony’s birthday in California, Bucky doesn’t give a fuck. Celebrating International Tony Reallyveryintelligent’s Day is an all day activity, and the day starts at midnight. It started a couple of weeks ago, really, but that doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t know Tony’s last name, but he’s still one of the best friends that Bucky has ever had. Tony likely won’t see whatever Bucky posts about him until well into tomorrow - his dad is hosting some big party for the ‘event’ that Tony had scoffed at through numerous text messages, dreading his own birthday like most kids did the dentist. Bucky had coaxed him into being at least excited to talk to Bucky the night of; Tony’s parents (bastards) leave for a cruise tomorrow at three PST, which means that Tony will want to be in voice chat at about 3:15. Bucky has already begged off of family dinner for tomorrow, and he’s real lucky that his mom understands the importance of friends, even the ones online.

So, with all of this planned out, one could imagine Bucky’s surprise when his Discord starts ringing in a call at 12:01am, Eastern Standard, right after he’s posted his birthday post for Tony, and it’s not even a voice call but a video call, from Tony himself. Tony who never video calls. Tony who never sends selfies. Tony who is so shy about his appearance that Bucky has only ever seen pictures of his hands, or of his designs, never of Tony’s face. Bucky confirms the call and pauses his Spotify, placing his full attention with his Discord and the fuzzy video picture that’s getting less fuzzy by the second. When he can see clearly, Bucky nearly chokes on his own spit.

Tony looks a little younger than seventeen. He has bright eyes with bags beneath them, but his face is so baby soft that he looks about fourteen, tops. He’s got a sweet curve to his mouth that says that he smiles a lot, but a sadness in his eyes that says it’s not always real. His nose is rounded at the tip, not big and not small, but perfect for his face. The arch of his eyebrows is expressive, and, all together, his Tony is a very pretty young man. However, there are two things that are most important. The first, less important thing is that Bucky’s Tony is Tony Stark, heir to Stark Industries and son of Howard Stark, one of the richest men in America. More importantly, secondly, his Tony is crying. At least, he has been crying, even if he’s trying to cover it up, Bucky can see the redness around his eyes, the tear tracks he hasn’t properly wiped away.

“Tony, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Bucky says, dropping sweetheart immediately even if he’s never been brave enough to call his friend that before, even in voice call. Tony is smiling through his tears in a way that looks like he’s happily swallowing knives, or something to that effect. Bucky wants to crawl through the screen just to hold him, a desire that he has had before, even in the beginning when they were only talking through tumblr DMs. Tony hiccups, and then he speaks, and he’s so goddamn pretty, even when he’s crying.

“Hey Buckaroo. What’s up?” Tony asks, changing the subject like he always does when he’s upset (Bucky had to wrangle exactly how bad Tony’s dad is through several days of what felt like careful espionage, and he’s still not sure he knows the worst of it). He wants to hold Tony, card metal fingers through his hair, whisper to him and tell him that he’s alright, that he’s good, and that he’s worth everything Bucky wants to give him.

“Back track, honey, I need you to tell me what’s up. I thought you were at a party tonight, Tones. What happened? Can you tell me? For me?” Bucky coaxes softly, and it’s a low blow, but whatever it takes, after all. Tony doesn’t like to put things on other people, so it’s better if it’s for Bucky’s sake; Tony knows that his friend will worry, will internalize it and blow it up, will think about it for days. Instead, Tony sighs.

“Howard,” Tony says, which is what he always calls his father when the man isn’t in the room (other than dear old dad, which gives Bucky just as much of a bad feeling), and sighs again, “decided I was a disappointment again tonight. He said a lot of shit to me, in front of a lot of people, and managed to make it seem completely kosher. So, once again, I’m the rebellious shit kicker, and Howard comes out smelling like roses. It’s… god, it’s fucking bullshit.” Tony finishes with something that sounds like it starts as a laugh and ends as a sob, and Bucky winces. He doesn’t know how to comfort this, how to make it better, how to help at all, and he feels like such a piece of shit.

“Check your @ mentions on tumblr,” he blurts, and Tony tilts his head and he looks so cute and Bucky wants to die. “Just… check your @ mentions. Please,” Bucky repeats, more confident this time, and Tony takes the distraction. He clicks out of the window he has Discord in, and Bucky can see him dragging the little box that has the video feed of Bucky in it, which just makes him smile. Tony is real cute, after all. He watches as Tony scrolls through things, and sees him see what Bucky posted.

“Snowflake, what is this?” Tony asks, and the use of the nickname makes Bucky’s stomach drop out with butterflies like it does every time. It’s another story for another time, how Bucky got that nickname, but he thinks he would hate it if it came from anyone else. Bucky scrubs his metal hand on the back of his neck, giving Tony a shy smile.

“A moodboard for you… and a fic for McKirk, maybe dedicated to you?” Bucky replies, biting his lip. He knows it’s a lot, but… it’s what Tony deserves. Star Trek is the fandom that made the two of them friends after all, a shared love of McKirk and a quiet respect for Spock that sometimes extended to shipping McSpirk or just Spirk but. Well. McKirk is special, because they’ve agreed that Tony is the Kirk type, suave and sunshine, while Bucky is more of a McCoy, gruff and reining Tony in, and. There’s something he wrote into Kirk’s character that will make it special for Tony, and there’s a reference in McCoy’s character that makes it specific and well… Bucky projected them onto McKirk, okay? He can admit that.

“You,” Tony says, cracking his first genuine smile of the call, “are a menace.” He only says that when Bucky does things that he thinks are too nice, and Bucky wants to do a hundred nice things. He watches as Tony reads over the fic (Tony once tried to explain how fast he reads to Bucky, saying things like twelve hundred words a minute and choking on a blush that Bucky could hear through the mic, and Bucky had just put him out of his misery by saying “so, fast, right?” which Tony had laughed at), and knows when he reaches the part that reads as too much. Kirk is trans and McCoy has a metal prosthetic and Tony looks at him like he hung the moon and Bucky is halfway in love with a boy three thousand miles away.

“So… what did you think?” he asks after a few moments of silence, biting down hard on his lip. Tony stares at the box version of him hard, which Bucky almost feels as if it’s burning through his skin.

“I just… Why? This must have been so much work, Bucky. And… exactly at 9? So… midnight for you? Exactly? Bucky,” Tony says, choking on his words, and Bucky wants to hold him.

“I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority,” he says honestly, deep and almost growling in the way that he knows Tony likes based off of the way that it has inspired silence before, and Tony’s looking at him. Bucky wants him to look for the rest of forever and maybe keep looking.

“You’re perfect. Did you know that? You’re the most perfect person I’ve ever met,” Tony tells him, and then Bucky is choking on a blush and Tony is looking like that cat that caught the canary. Bucky recollects himself.

“I think that’s you, sugar. No matter what Howard says, no matter what anyone ever fuckin’ says, you are the most perfect person in the world, I promise you that. You are perfect,” Bucky emphasizes, going from teasing to imploring, and Tony freezes.

“I think I like you more than I planned,” the Californian admits, word vomiting, and Bucky sighs in relief.

“I’m damn glad. I’ve been likin’ you more than I planned for months. I know we’re far away, but… would you maybe like to… go together? Be mine?” Bucky asks stiltedly, feeling panic in his lungs even when Tony admitted himself first, because the idea that Tony wants him back is otherworldly. Tony nods.

“Be mine, Valentine. I’m Tony Stark, I’m seventeen, I live in Malibu, and I’m about to graduate with my second doctorate, looking for a college to get my third. I really like this really great guy who has these really pretty blue eyes that I’ve just been staring at in his selfies for the longest time,” Tony says, giving him that ‘suave’ smirk that’s been so rumored, and Bucky loves it. He smiles back.

“I’m Bucky Barnes. I’m eighteen, I’m going to college at NYU this June for engineering, I live in a shit neighborhood in Brooklyn with my best friend Steve. I like this real great fella named Tony with these big brown eyes that I’m just seein’ for the first time today, but I’d sure love to see them a lot from now on,” Bucky flirts back, and Tony flushes, dark red taking over his olive toned skin. Then, Tony seems to be thinking for a moment, biting his lip.

“Speaking of New York… I’m coming to tour Columbia next month, and I haven’t booked a hotel yet… Think you could help me find somewhere to crash?” Tony asks, wording it vaguely, but Bucky can read between the lines. His heart nearly jumps out of his chest.

“It’s a date,” he says.

#winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #winter soldier #iron man #mine #ldr #long distance relationship #teen!winteriron #trashcanakin

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kittensjonsa · 6 years

Photo

For @jonsa-creatives‘ Jonsa Spring Challenge Day 6: Song

Where’s My Love - SYML

Summary: Recovering from her traumatic abduction, Sansa finds herself in a unique but necessary situation - stowed away as a vital witness under the protection of the Federal Government and one handsome FBI Agent, Jon Snow, keen to do his job well. Despite their arrangement and trying hard to be unaffected by what is happening around them, Jon and Sansa find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other. Rated PG. TW: abduction, implied torture, PTSD

Cold Bones

What she thought was sweat, tasted like blood.

Sansa flinched at the thought, desperate to pry her hands free of the chained cuffs on her wrists. She would break her own arms but what good would it do in escaping this hell hole? Her laboured breathing slowly turned into sobs as the fear finally gripped her.

I don’t want to die. Not like this.

“There you are my queen,” Sansa heard the door creak open. Squinting at the sudden light pouring into the room, Sansa watched as a shadow approached her. Grunting, she sat up, moving further, backing into the wall as much as she could. If only the ground would swallow her, it was a fate she desired more than this one.

“Look at you, you’re hurt my precious. Hope I wasn’t too hard on you. Well, I will be but for now,” Ramsay’s voice trailed off as he dabbed at her damp forehead. The dull ache returned and Sansa felt the room spin once more.

“Well, that was just warm up. I’m preparing you for your destiny, Sansa. Do you not know how important you are to me?” Ramsay sneered as he seized her arms and forced her to face him.

Sansa had no will nor the breath to say a word. Only a tear that rolled off her cheek and onto the dirty concrete floor.

With her eyes shut and one final deep breath, Sansa muttered her last prayer.

Jon’s heart was pounding wildly as beads of sweat pooled on his forehead. He listened intently for further instructions and counted slowly in his head, his body bent low, taut and in position. Stealthily, Jon moved towards the door with his revolver pointed straight as Edd and Grenn crept closely behind. Jon swallowed the sharp cold air as he listened again for any voices behind the frame. He had to be in the right place. All the evidence they had led to this very location. His instincts had strongly agreed and that was enough for him. He knew it, he felt it. The sick bastard’s time is up.

A muffled scraping and squeak broke the silence and Jon quickly signaled to his squad. It was all he needed to take action. His ass is mine.

A rhythmic beeping kept drifting in and out of Sansa’s ears and her mind’s eye was shrouded in bright white. Am I in heaven? Am I truly dead, she thought. Mama, Papa.. my family.

“Shhh… I’m here my darling girl. Right here,” her mother’s hushed voice spoke, to her surprise.

“She’s up… Oh thank God.”

“Sansa…”

Tears formed under her closed lids as soft familiar voices surrounded her and Sansa wanted to run, towards them, to those voices. Not the white light. Where are you? A firm warm grip on her hand gave Sansa the strength to open her eyes.

Tears blurred her vision but there he was, her father standing over her with eyes brimming. “Oh! My sweet girl!”

For the first time in her life, God was real. And He had heard her.

“Mr Stark, I understand your concerns but for now I think that’s the best alternative.”

“But my daughter isn’t the criminal! She was the victim! You can’t do this to us, not after what she has been through. And all she needs now is her family. The last thing we want is the FBI surrounding her. She needs to be safe!”

Davos sighed. He understood perfectly how Ned Stark must be feeling but Davos also knew that if Sansa were to return home, more people would turn up dead. Including her. Until further evidence uncovered to prove the Boltons were behind the trafficking ring, Sansa was not out of the woods yet. A safe house is what she needs.

“With all due respect sir, her safety is exactly what we’re keeping. She is our only lead in the investigation and believe me, Mr Stark, she will be helping a lot of people. She will be saving lives. But it is also extremely dangerous for her right now. I’m sorry, Mr Stark. We will make sure we stay in contact with you to let you know that all is fine and well. Please understand, the Witness Protection Program is, unfortunately necessary, for Sansa. I promise you, she’ll be in good hands.”

Ned looked down, fighting back tears again. He was beyond exhausted. He almost lost Sansa once and now that she was found, he had to let her go again. “Catelyn would be devastated. She doesn’t deserve all of this. None of us do.”

It was a heartbreaking but the more time it took to convince them, the more dangerous the operation would become. There was no knowing what the Boltons were getting up to, now that their mastermind and heir to the crime family’s empire was shot dead.

Davos laid a hand on the shoulder of the sobbing father.“I promise you, she’ll be well taken care of. We have our best agents on the job. Jon Snow. He was the one who saved your daughter, Mr Stark. And he’s the best one to keep your daughter safe. Please, Mr Stark. For her safety and your family’s.”

Ned glanced again at Catelyn who was cradling Sansa’s head, stroking her hair gently. “Let us say goodbye to her, then. Please.”

There was no more he could say. Nothing that could make it better. It was the worst part of his job. The hardest and he hated it every time it came up.

Davos could only nod.

Sansa limped to the bed and surveyed her surroundings. It was cozy and simple but it was cold. The whole house was cold, without her family.

“I hope this would do. The clothes are in there if you need to change and I guess.. I’ll go prepare dinner. There’s a button at the bedside table and press that if you need help. Oh, and a panic button just here,” the young man dressed in a suit with a head of combed down curls pointed to the edge of the headboard. “You know, if anything comes up. Which I’m sure it won’t. And I’m Jon.”

Sansa smoothed the small crinkles of her bed sheet and sighed defeatedly.

“Thank you, Jon.”

It was a pain to walk or move but thankfully the kitchen was just around the corner from her room. Sansa hadn’t changed from the dress her mother had helped put on at the hospital. She didn’t have the courage to remove anything covering her body. Not yet. It was too soon to see the scars.

Soft rock music and sizzles filled the kitchen and a delicious scent wafted through the air. Sansa watched as Jon, now clad in a t shirt and jeans stir the pan, bopping his head along to the music, unaware she was standing right behind.

“It smells good here.”

Jon almost dropped his spatula at the sound of her voice. “Oh Miss Stark! Sorry I didn’t hear you.”

Sansa winced as she sat down gently on the nearest chair. Jon rushed to help only to be refused by Sansa.

“It’s all right. I can manage. I can’t depend on you all the time. It’s not like you’ll be around the house all the time anyways,” Sansa smiled politely. Jon turned off the heat and grabbed some plates. He hoped she’d like stir fry. It was the easiest thing to make given the short notice.

“Actually, Miss Stark, I won’t be leaving your side at all. The house, I mean. Wherever you go, I go. So yeah, I won’t be leaving unless we have to.”

Sansa frowned. “Wait… What do you when we have to? You mean, we’re stuck in this house? That’s it? Well, what am I gonna do then to spend the time?”

“Well, your doctor’s appointments that’s one,” Jon said warily as he poured iced water for her, “and we can go out if you’d like. I just need clearance. I have a computer if you need to do anything and some books if you’d like to read. But yes mostly we’ll be staying.. in.”

Sansa suddenly lost her appetite. She had been rescued from one dungeon but only to enter another. “I’m sorry, I’m not hungry now. I think I’d like to go to sleep. Thank you for dinner, excuse me Jon…” Sansa sipped some water and began to stand up. Her heart started to race and her palms sweaty. She wanted to go home.

“Miss… It’s just protocol.. I’m sorry if it’s something I said, I didn’t mean to-”

“My name is Sansa! Don’t they tell you that in the case file? Aren’t you supposed to know who the hell it is you’re protecting? For fuck’s sake!”

Jon kept silent and sat back down on his chair.

“I just want to be with my family! I deserve that at least! Why won’t you people let me?” Sansa snapped and headed slowly to her room. It had barely been three days since she left the hospital and all she wanted was to go back home and lay in her own bed, in her own room. Her family would keep her safe but deep down she knew it was true, a nagging sense that she was still very much in danger.

A few hours had probably passed as Sansa stared at the ceiling and the unmoving fan that hung from it, that a growl in her stomach pushed her to get up. It was already dark and the view from the windows was only darkness. Sansa could not remember what it had looked like earlier during the day but she did not care. They were in godforsaken nowhere. The view was the least she cared about. Sansa was about to walk towards the door when a gentle knock almost made her jump. Dammit Jon.

“Sansa? Is everything all right? May I come in, please?”

Sansa hesitated. She should apologize but her mood wasn’t any better than a few hours ago.

“Sure, Jon. Come in.”

The door opened to a smiling Jon holding a tray of food. “I figured you might be hungry. Please eat Sansa. It’ll make you feel better. Please? It’s edible, I swear.”

Sansa’s mouth broke into a smile and opened the door wider for him to enter. “Thank you Jon. And for just now.. I’m sor-”

Jon shook his head. “Ah, no please don’t apologize. Besides, I get yelled at a lot. You can ask my Captain.”

Sansa sat up on the bed and pricked on a morsel of the heated stir fry with her fork. “Oh, this is good. You’re a good cook, Mr FBI Agent. What else do they teach you at the academy?”

Jon chuckled. “Shooting, unarmed combat, profiling criminals. You know, your typical every day stuff.”

Sansa smiled as she chewed on another piece of broccoli. “Of course.” Jon watched as she ate, his shy glances darting back and forth. Well, at least he’s cute. Not too bad to get stuck with.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow Jon? Or is there a plan?”

Jon furrowed his brows, wondering what to say. There was no plan. Keeping her safe, supervising Sansa Stark at all times and reporting to Davos by midnight was his plan. He had to think of something in between seven thirty in the morning and midnight.

“Well, not much. No plans. We can play board games, cook and watch some dvds, I guess. Would that be okay for you? Your next appointment is next week, which I’ll be coming with you.”

Sansa looked away and took a sip of water. She felt sorry that Jon had to be stuck with her. It was all her fault. Her fault that she went against her intuition and met with Ramsay that night. But all she wanted to do was tell him to back off and leave her alone. She thought she was able to handle him by herself. And all this; alone and locked away in obscurity without her family by her side, was all because of her.

“Sansa? If you don’t like that we can do something else,” Jon chimed in, sensing her discomfort.

Sansa bristled. “Anything but going out in public, right?”

“For now, yes. But it won’t be forever.” No. But my scars will be.

The days passed and eventually blended as Sansa often did not know what day it was apart from the radio that Jon turned on every now and then. Neither did she care. She was still trapped in the house anyway. For God knows how long still. Jon had kept details of the investigation safe from her knowledge. And appreciatively so, for any mention of the Bolton name would give her nightmares.

Jon and her had settled into a comfortable routine, him staying awake while she slept, and him resting while she was awake. They took turns to cook for one another. Sansa even baked her specialty, lemon cakes - which Jon had secretly grown to love. Groceries and things she asked for were delivered once a week, and almost every other day there was a new book to read and a new board game. But a favourite of theirs was Scrabble and some days the games went well into the night, allowing her to rest well after. Her sleep had gotten considerably better since the first night she arrived.

Sometimes, they would even go for a walk as Sansa needed to make sure her legs were healing but it tickled her that she had to put on a ridiculous wig and a cap everywhere they went.

“It.. suits you,” Sansa remembered Jon tell her as she had the wig on for the first time.

It was strange seeing herself with dark almost raven like hair. She looked like another person entirely. Which of course, was the whole point. It was strange to Sansa that she was beginning to enjoy this whole new other life vastly different from her old one. She could be anything, say anything and Jon allowed her to be. It was liberating despite the circumstances. There was no one to tell her she was wrong, no one to tell her she was not doing a good job. There was no noise. It was just her in her own little protective bubble. And it worked wonders. She had her bad days, when nightmares proved too much and missing her family had often dragged her down but having someone she could talk to and spend time with, was a lifesaver. Sshe was beginning to trust again. After what she had gone through, this was a milestone. And for that Sansa was beyond grateful. It was one thing that came unexpected.

“Hey Sansa, did you ask for hair dye?”

Sansa peered into the cardboard box that Jon was unpacking.

“Yeah. I got tired of wearing the wig. Thought I might just change it completely. I mean, it’s easier right?”

Jon read the label and handed the box to her. “You don’t have to but sure, if it helps.”

Her last appointment with the doctor was the following week and it saddened her that she may not be out and about again. It was nice seeing a familiar part of town again. Although, she was still getting used to being called Alayne. Her pseudonym that Jon gave her when they were about in public. Jon had addressed her a few times and Sansa had often missed it but he assured her it wasn’t a big of a deal.

Sansa dabbed the sides of her face that was streaked with black dye as she unwrapped the towel on her head. Flipping her head back, Sansa gasped as she stared at herself in the mirror. Black hair with blue eyes, eyes she recognised but a face that wasn’t her own. “Alayne,” she whispered.

“Sansa, dinner’s read-” Jon paused suddenly, slack jawed at the dark haired beauty before him.

“You dyed your hair.. umm.. wow,” Jon gulped as he stared at her. Longer than he was supposed to. Sansa tucked her hair shyly behind her ears and sat down at the table. Jon was still visibly staring as he sat down on his chair. It made her chuckle at his gaze transfixed on her. He likes it, maybe.

“Well, do you like it?”

Jon blinked, finally and looked away, flustered. “Umm.. yeah I do. It looks good on you, Sansa.”

Sansa raised her finger to object. “Ah uh, Alayne.”

Jon smiled. “Right. Alayne.”

The dinner was unusually quiet, especially on Jon’s part although there were many instances where she nearly caught him staring at her. For some reason, the air between them possessed a palpable electric charge. And for once, between them, tension filled the atmosphere. It was both unnerving and amusing at once. This had never happened before and Sansa wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Break the ice, she thought. The weird tension was making the room strangely warmer than usual. Just for fun. Fuck it, it’s been a while.

“You know, I’ve never watched p0rn.” Jon almost choked on his fish and coughed. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve never watched p0rn. Could we maybe get a DVD on one?”

Jon stared at her wide eyed, wiping his mouth, confused at the highly peculiar request. “Umm…. I guess that could be arranged.. if you wish.”

Sansa grinned slyly at the reaction she was getting. This is fun, this new persona. She could be anything and right now she wanted to be a flirt. It had been a while since she felt attractive, wanted or even beautiful. Ramsay had taken all of that away from her. But right here, right now with Jon Snow she was Alayne, the raven haired beauty armed with blood red lipstick and steely confidence. Sansa Stark could only dream to be like her.

“Although I would have to explain that to my umm.. captain.”

“Don’t. Tell him Alayne asked for it. Let’s just say, I’m curious.”

Jon chewed slowly on another piece of fish and sipped his water.

What is going on right now?

He had no clue and he was not trained for this. PTSD? It was well documented that the disorder can cause changes in behaviour - but she was fine hours ago, he thought. What a 180. Nevertheless, he had to tread carefully. Maybe even hoped that it was just a prank Sansa was pulling. Though the stares she kept giving him had made him more uneasy than amused. It gave his cock something to wake up to. Great timing. Besides, it was hard to deny the bright red lips and the simple black dress she had on was doing things to him.

Sansa decided to push it further. This, made her feel things. Why not?

“Maybe something on.. I don’t know, anal? With ropes and tying.”

Jon spat out his drink and stood up to excuse himself. He had to. And to take a deep breath. In the corner of his eye, Sansa was clearly smiling, almost giggling as her shoulders began to shake slightly but it was obvious she was struggling to keep her composure. Perhaps it is a prank, he thought. Haha, funny. Maybe he could play along too, if that’s what she wants. Hell, the night is still young and there’s nothing else to do. Inhaling another deep breath and smirking to himself, Jon returned to his seat.

“Are you all right, Mr Snow? Don’t you like anal?”

Jon bit down his own laughter. “No I can’t say I do. I haven’t tried. Have you, Alayne?”

Sansa eyed him with a single raised eyebrow and Jon watched as the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. He’s playing along, how sweet. Let’s play, then.

“No but something tells me I need to be more adventurous.”

“Oh, is that right? Well, one shouldn’t be deprived of such… Adventures. And watching the DVD would help, how exactly?”

Sansa pursed her lips as Jon struck her with a question beating her at her own game. It was clear to her asking questions was his forte. He’s a bloody FBI agent, you idiot, of course he knows how to ask questions.

But Sansa would not give in. It was getting interesting, so perhaps… not just yet.

“Visuals. A how to video that tells me exactly what I should do to experience the pleasure it promises to deliver.” Sansa cringed at the line. Even the worst TV writers wouldn’t come up with that. She was losing and losing fast.

Jon licked his lips and smiled. “Oh, I’m sure it will be pleasurable. You just need the right partner and the right tools.”

He had to stop before he burst into laughter at the word ‘tools’. “Okay, Sansa, I’m sorry, please stop. I can’t.. oh my, that was hilarious.”

Jon shook his head and happily returned to finishing his dinner when a hand crept up his thigh that made him jump.

Sansa inched closer and licked her lips. “My name is Alayne. Tell me if you’re the right partner. And who the fuck is Sansa?”

Jon drew a sharp breath and grabbed Sansa’s hand that was almost pawing at his stiff cock.

“Sansa, please don’t do this, I beg you. I’m not… I’m not here to take advantage of you. Not after what you’ve been through. Please… I’m here to protect you. Sansa, don’t make my job more difficult than it already is.”

Sansa glanced down at her plate and back to Jon’s gaze. His eyes had grown dark and it almost frightened her but she could not look away. His mouth were saying those words but his eyes were saying a different thing. It was just so… different from what she was used to. ‘No’ was always her line. To the men who groped and pawed at her, who thought she was something to be owned, who whistled at her and who tried all means to touch her without permission.

But here was this man, who swore to protect her, looked after her and listened to her, held her tight when she cried out in the night waking up in bed in cold sweat And refused her because of his word and honour. It was admirable and in a weird way, turned her on instantly. She knew she wasn’t supposed to. They weren’t supposed to. But then again, who’s watching?

“Why is it difficult, Jon? Am I difficult for you?”

Jon glared at her and shifted uncomfortably with her hand firmly in his, resting on the table. Jon squeezed her hand, the tension was a little too much now. Out with it.

“No. You’re not,” he paused as he tilted his head slightly away from hers. “I just… Being here with you, alone in this house, sitting with with you, laughing with you, holding you in my arms.. is difficult. Because… because I fucking want you. So much, it hurts inside. But.. but I can’t.”

Jon shut his eyes and released her hand. Covering his face, he was far too embarrassed and regretted his confession. So many things could go wrong, losing his job and his entire career for one. But Sansa.. he’s never met anyone like her. He’s never cared for anyone like the way he cared for her. He had even started missing her when he had to leave her at the doctor’s office and her therapist appointments. He had denied many times, too many to count. But every time he looked into those blue eyes and a smile that could light up the night sky, he knew he was in it, deep. No, his head reminded constantly but yet his heart said the opposite. And that was why it was so goddamned difficult.

“Jon, look at me.”

He hesitated but looking up, Jon found himself nose to nose with Sansa. Shit.

“Sansa, please… I can’t.. we can’t.”

With a touch as light as a feather but burned right through him, Sansa cupped his face gently.

“Kiss me.”

To be continued…

Okay fixed it and hope you enjoyed… whatever this is lol ( I tried but it’s 3 am and I’m stuck)

Till next time!

Elle xxx

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa spring challenge #day6:song #i don't know what in the fresh hell this is #just roll with it #i'm so sorry #modern au #bodyguard au

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deusaeverythingcomestoanend · 4 years

Text

D. Series: The Pirate

Chapter 24

Step on Glass

The choice is yours to make,

Will you fight for their sake,

Or will you stay alive and keep your head down,

Until you are finally able to wear the crown.

Cronus sat next to his father’s bedside. It made him feel uneasy seeing him in such a state. He does not allow any of the so-called doctors into the room. When he is not around he gives his mother the order to not let anyone in. He grinds up dried up chamomile flowers along with a few other ingredients into a fine powder in a mortar using a pestle. Satisfied with chamomile powder he takes a spoonful into a cup and fills it up with hot water. He adds a spoonful of honey along with a squeeze of lemon juice and hands it to his shivering father to drink.

Godiva switches the cold rag resting on Clement’s forehead with a new one. Each time his body shudders in protest to cold being reintroduced to it. This goes on for a few hours until Clement stops shivering and his breathing has returned to normal. Cronus observes as Clement takes in deep soothing breaths and falls asleep. He glances over at his mother who is holding Clement’s hand as he peacefully sleeps. The way she looked at him was different then the way she would look at her children. There was love in her eyes that felt more raw. Unlike the love she had for her children which was pure.

“Mother, I have to go help Lord Alfric prepare,” stated Cronus spitting out that monster's name. Clement had broken out of his fever meaning that he was out of the woods. Cronus could not help being uneasy, he felt that today was going to be the last day he would ever see them again. He stole a quick glance back at his parents and left the room. He was too valuable for Lord Alfric to lose. Cronus hoped Lord Alfric would let them go. He could not help fearing that his family would soon be joining the rest of the townspeople in the dungeons.

‘Argh! Don’t think like that. Even if you are doomed to remain behind at least they will be freed. They have to be,’ sobbed Cronus as he made his way down the spiral staircase. It felt as if he was walking in a daze as he took down each step. Before his mind could even process it he was standing right in front of the door leading out.

“Does Cronus know about the plan?!” shouted Sir Harold in disbelief.

“Be quiet, do you want him to hear you?” hushed Sir Oswald.

“I don’t think we have to worry about that. He is up in the tower taking care of his old man,” sighed Sir Harold, “I don’t know why he even bothers though. We all know that Lord Alfric has given the orders to have both Godiva and Clement executed.”

Cronus slapped a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from making any noise. He fought back the urge of bursting through the door demanding answers from the two knights. A part of him is frozen in place as both his mind and heart begin to race. Did he still have time to get them to safety?

“If only Cronus had not finished the weapons,” sighed Sir Oswald, “then maybe, they might have had a chance.”

“You are suggesting that they should have fled before they were completed?” asked Sir Harold.

“Well, yes,” responded Sir Oswald.

“You do know that Lord Alfric would have pursued them to the ends of the earth right? It wouldn’t matter how far away they ran. He was bound to have found them and it would have been worse for them,” argued Sir Harold.

“I know but still they could have traveled to other countries where Lord Alfric could not reach them,” reasoned Sir Oswald.

“Like where exactly? Let’s say they do manage to get to Scotland or Wales. People around the Drataines would take notice that Cronus is DIFFERENT. He would have his family killed right in front of him and either sold off to the higher bidder or killed off for witchcraft. Neither scenario sounds good to me,” raged Sir Harold, “Not only that in the boy’s veins runs the blood of dragons. Just like his parents.”

“You care too much about the boy, don’t you Sir Harold?” observed Sir Oswald.

“He is an annoying brat, but I cannot argue that he has grown on me,” agreed Sir Harold, “Cronus, would have made a grand knight considering his father’s blood line. I heard that the Drataines are supposed to be one of the strongest warriors. One man is capable of taking out entire armies by themselves. So the legends say, but I have spared Clement from time to time and doubt that is even true. Though I guess he might not have been giving it his all, seeing his true nature. With time I am sure that I can take on an army of Drataines with-”

“It’s a good thing that most of the Drataines are going to be killed off today,” remarked Sir Oswald.

“What do you mean?” demanded Sir Harold.

“You won’t get a chance to prove that to be true,” replied Sir Oswald.

“What about Cronus?” asked Sir Harold.

“Real noble of taking down a child,” remarked Sir Oswald sounding rather done with Sir Harold.

“Whoever said I would be fighting him now?!” growled Sir Harold.

“Well, you do enjoy finding the easy way out of most of your situations,” reasoned Sir Oswald the echoing sound of his footsteps as he walked away.

“Damn, it!” barked Sir Harold as he punched the wall in frustration. Cronus jolted at the sudden noise. He refused to step out the door until he could no longer sense Sir Harold’s presence right outside the door. He did not have to wait long. He could hear the echo of Sir Harlod’s footsteps. Cronus felt a drop of water hit the back of his hand.

“A leak?” Cronus questions the roof in the spiral staircase. Seeing that there wasn’t one he accepted his despair. He had worked so hard in completing those guns for Lord Alfric. Hoping beyond hope that if he finished his task on time they would be freed. He had to remind himself that this was Lord Alfric, the man got his own flesh and blood killed. He should have taken his word with a grain of salt. His God’s Armor wasn’t even close to being completed yet, nor would he be able to complete it by tonight. His father was still too weak to make it down those steps without help.

“Today is Friday the 13th ....of course it was going to be an unlucky day,” sighed Cronus, “God, do you hate me? In what way have I insulted you, that you see it just to have me punished in this way. True I have teased my older sister and argued with my parents, but tell me... What child doesn’t?”

Cronus glared at the empty seeking an answer from the darkness. Knowing none would come, though he was positive that someone would have to answer him. He had already watched one of his family members die, he wasn’t ready to lose them all to the Reaper. He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes clean of his tears. He did not want the others to know that he knew of Lord Alfric’s plan. He kept his head held high as he made his way to Lord Alfric’s office. He tried his best to act as if nothing was wrong. He bowed his head and faked a smile up at Lord Alfric.

“How did you like your parent’s new accomodations?” questioned Lord Alfric standing right next to a window looking at the view below him.

“You are being more than gracious to us, my Lord,” responded Cronus crossing his arms. His fingernails cutting into the flesh of his forearms. His blood began to stain his shirt.

“I am glad to hear you like it. I need to keep my Weapons Expert happy, do I not?” asked Lord Alfric glancing over at him.

“I was wondering, could it be possible that my family would be released?” questioned Cronus keeping his eyes on Lord Alfric.

“Why would they want to leave? They have everything they could want here,” remarked Lord Alfric, making it clear that he had no intentions of letting them go.

“They are of no use to you,” reasoned Cronus glaring at the man.

“On the contrary, your parents are rather useful to me,” argued Lord Alfric as he continued to look out the window, “your father is Clement Drataine afterall. A crown jewel among the knights. As soon as I laid my eyes on him, I knew that I could not just let him go. How can I allow myself to lose such a prize. Especially when it was presented to me particularly on a silver platter. I have no use for your mother...true. Still she is Clement’s mate and it is best to keep her close to his side. A payment for allowing me to have their pure daughter pass off as my own.”

“Are you worried that the Royal family will find out about what you have done?” asked Cronus feigning to be concerned with Lord Alfric’s well being.

“No, why should I fear the crown? Knowing that will soon be mine,” remarked Lord Alfric, smirking as he glanced at the land beneath him, “it is not like they have a Weapon’s Expert as brilliant as yourself.”

“Isn’t that treason? Won’t you be killed?” asked Cronus, not understanding why he would risk everything he had on a fleeting dream.

“I thank you for worrying about me,” smirked Lord Alfric stretching his arms up, “but I have nothing to be concerned about. That is if I play my cards right. Like I have been doing for the past twenty years.”

“Are you a man of your word?” defied Cronus stepping up closer to the being before him.

“How dare you ask me such a question? Of course, I am,” scoffed Lord Alfric crossing his arms and turning around to face him. Cronus noticed that Lord Alfric’s eyes were devoid of any emotion whatsoever. Did this man even feel remorse for what he had done to his own family? The answer was no, he did not. He must have been the only son of a wealthy merchant, who had bought his way into Lordship. At first he must have been ecstatic with his new position of power, but he knew that without a male heir he could not secure it for much longer. Then his wife died during childbirth, turning him desperate to keep his title. The only way he found was to have her married off to a Knight of a higher status than himself. This way he would be able to not lose that which he fought so hard to attain.

When Lady Rebecca became pregnant with her lover's bastard. She had unknowingly brought her father’s plan down the shithole. He could not present her to Sir Dicun Bannister as his pure and innocent daughter.Considering she had already evidently taken a bite of the forbidden fruit. How did he find out that his daughter was with child? More importantly how did he know who had sired the child? He had Lady Rebecca’s Lover killed right before her eyes by the way she acted when he mentioned him. After that he sent her to a secret compartments within the castle where she was beaten and at times starved. She must have fought at first, with time becoming weak.

“Will you be using the guns on your hunting trip?” wondered Cronus as he tried not to burn a hole in Lord Alfric’s skull with his eyes.

“Now, why would I waste such craftsmanship on such trivial animals?” questioned Lord Alfric rubbing his beard.

“You won’t use it on a boar? Don’t tell me you aren’t tired of feasting on chicken,” disputed Cronus in disbelief.

“Oh, do not fret. I will be killing plenty of long pigs with those weapons before the sun goes down,” smirked Lord Alfric, placing a hand on Cronus’ shoulder, “I am grateful for all that you have done for me. You will soon be rewarded for everything.”

“I appreciate all that you are about to give me, but the only thing I truly want is for you to allow my family to leave,” requested Cronus bearing holes into Lord Alfric’s eyes, “you know like you had promised.”

“I did, didn’t I? Before you go, I have a question for you, Cronus. You and your family could have left at any time you wanted. You are the ones who chose to stay out of your own free will,” taunted Lord Alfric, walking back, “the power I have over your family is the same power they gave me. Why didn’t you flee?”

“If we had made a run for it you would have had your men pursue us,” answered Cronus glaring up at that man, “when they capture us things would have gone so much worse.”

“That is true, I would have ordered for your Father’s head on a silver platter. I would have accused both your Mother and Sister as witches and had their bodies mutilated and hung. As for yourself...” paused Lord Alfric and turned around to look at him, “I would have chained you near the furnace and forced you to create weapons for me every single day without rest.”

“I’ll stay,” mumbled Cronus.

“I am sorry, I did not hear you,” teased Lord Alfric cupping his left ear.

“I said I’ll stay. Just please, let them leave,” begged Cronus collapsing down to his knees.

“I will, your family will be gone before the sun sets,” sighed Lord Alfric “now get up and stop crying.”

“No, I heard that you plan on having my parent’s killed,” wept Cronus as tears leaked out of his eyes and fell onto the wooden floor beneath him.

“Did you really?” questioned Lord Alfric walking over to him. As soon as he was right in front of Cronus he knelt down. He brought Cronus’ face up to look at him.

“I know that... that you never planned on keeping your promise,” sobbed Cronus, his tears wetting Lord Alfric’s hand.

“I am a man of my word,” lied Lord Alfric as he roughly dried Cronus’ tears.

“Prove it, make the order right now. Have your men give my family a horse and carriage to leave this place,” implored Cronus grasping onto Lord Alfric’s forearm.

“Very well, if it will seize your crying,” groaned Lord Alfric getting up, “Brutus! Come here!”

The large wooden door creaked open and Brutus walked in. He seemed to be observing the room as if he was trying to taste the atmosphere. He bowed to Lord Alfric, his eyes appeared to be locked on him. If Cronus did not know any better, he could almost swear that Brutus was looking at Lord Alfric like a wild predator stares at their prey.

“You called, my Lord,” noted Brutus as he got up from his bow.

“Yes, I want you to arrange a horse and carriage for the Drataines to leave,” ordered Lord Alfric.

“Consider it done,” stated Brutus as he stared at Lord Alfric, “would that be all?”

“Yes, thank you, Brutus, you may leave,” dismissed Lord Alfric sitting down on his chair.

“Very well, my Lord,” sighed Brutus leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

“I want to say good-bye,” requested Cronus getting up from the ground and whipping the tears off his face.

“Why? It’s not like you are never going to see them again,” argued Lord Alfric, shrugging his shoulders.

“Who knows I might not,” protested Cronus as he looked at that door with longing.

“Very well, but I want you right back here as soon as they get on that carriage,” ordered Lord Alfric dismissing him with his hand.

“Thank you,” cried Cronus, bowing down and running out.

Previous Chapter:

https://deusaeverythingcomestoanend.tumblr.com/post/618061108847263744/d-series-the-pirate

#the pirate #sorry for being late #original story

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caitofcaithall · 4 years

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Wasteland

[TW: unhappyish ending, implied suicide, implied murder. This is effectively prologue to a series though; the happy ending is on the way! Also, this was written about a year ago, so before C19 - I just didn’t feel right starting to post the series without it.]

So it’s like this:

The world fell apart on a Tuesday. While happy, unassuming people were eating their morning pig in a poke and rushing off to the office, a rather special, rather deadly virus was escaping a military lab somewhere out in Missouri.

Perhaps it could have been contained, if they’d realized it in time.

But the doctor in charge of the specimen was due for his vacation. The other scientists in the lab had no initial reason to think that procedure wasn’t being followed to the letter.

The apocalypse had begun, and no one noticed… for another eight hours, anyway.

It seemed to take scarcely any time at all before the world was in ruin. World leaders fell. Governments toppled. Society as we knew it came to a screeching halt, and what was left were the remnants of those who adjusted and fought to go on.

Gavin grew up poor.

It’s just how it was. His parents died at the height of the plague. His elder brother held on for a few years, shielding him as best he could. He was probably the reason that Gavin survived. But then he, too, succumbed to the harsh scrapyard that had become their life, and Gavin was a young alpha alone.

He was determined to survive, so he scrambled and he scrapped and he scraped for every drop of water, every hard-earned crust of bread. It made him strong and it made him fierce and it made him lonely and he decided, one night when the sun dropped below the horizon and the earth was blanketed in darkness and starlight, that when he was old enough and strong enough he would make something of himself. He would be bold and he would live fully and he would have a mate and a family of his own.

This is not that story.

This story is much darker.

This is the story of the universe where Gavin’s dreams went up in smoke.

Farmer. Builder. Hunter. Shoemaker.

Esteemed professions all. Gavin worked with all of their masters, trying to find his place in the world, a spot he could settle in and be proud of.

He was good at them. He had a way with the grapes on their trellises. He could fix roofs and bring down deer to feed his patrons for weeks at a time. The shoemaker he studied under wanted to keep him on, admiring the small artistic touches Gavin assigned to the leathers they worked. Told Gavin he could be more than good, if he got more practice in him. The man would be happy to name Gavin his heir in place of the boy he lost long ago.

But Gavin couldn’t settle. It wasn’t so much ambition as it was a thirst - a desperate need to know more and more, to be learnèd for its own sake. But ambition came snaking in, anyhow. The world might have changed, but it was still ruled by the wealthy.

If Gavin were wealthy himself, he reasoned, then he’d never have to go hungry again. He wouldn’t have to hope for the best, that an omega might look beyond his threadbare clothes and his blunt manners, in order to see to the heart of him. He’d be accepted just about anywhere he went. He could have a voice, an influence. He could be of service to those who needed it in a way that he was limited from, now.

He knew that the only way he’d reach that ideal was to be educated.

So he studied.

He worked all day with the shoemaker, or with the farmer in his fields. And he studied all the night, sleep taking a backseat to the quest for more information, more polish. He never noticed the omegas who did hunger for him, saw beyond his patched clothes to the heart of the man beneath, the man who always had time for the wee toddling children and the old men and women without families. Never saw that his own striking good looks and hard-working disposition was enough to get him the life he wanted, just as he was.

When the day came that Gavin purchased his first proper suit, he nearly didn’t go through with it. The suit cost as much as he would make in an entire month of work - maybe more - with no options for trade or barter. But when he took a bath and slipped the fabric on, staring at himself in the mirror, he felt a surge of confidence take up habitat in his bones.

It was time. He was ready.

His first two interviews for positions that utilized his hard-earned book learning didn’t bear any fruit. But he rationalized it to himself, remembering his brother’s favorite phrase as they would scavenge for food and glean from the edges of the fields - third time lucky.

So he interviewed for the position of a tutor to an omega son of a local aristocrat. The advertisement made it seem as though his charge would be younger, needing a firm bit of polish before being introduced to the upper crusts of society.

Gavin met with the boy’s father in a wood-paneled study with large windows, in a house that had a maid to answer the door. He must have made some kind of good impression, because after the man finished smoking a cigar, he leaned back in his chair and told Gavin what his salary would be and that he would be required to begin lessons the next day.

Gavin could only agree.

This was it. This was his chance. This was his way out of poverty, his way into being a powerful man in his own right. Maybe he would even find a mate of his own. Maybe he too would eventually own a big house with paneled walls and villagers who admired him for the abundance he brought to their area.

His dreams lasted precisely as long as it took for him to walk out into the fields with his new employer, that he might meet his charge.

This was no young omega who needed a firm hand to keep him in check as he grew up.

This was a full grown man, eager and ready, his scent calling to Gavin like the bouquet of a fresh baked apple pie to a starving man.

Gavin went to purgatory every day for six hours - the amount of time allocated for him to instruct Jay in science and literature, etiquette and history. He learned things, too, like the shape of Jay’s mouth when he frowned at the ‘useless essays’ Jay’s father wanted him to complete, and the way the sunlight burned gold into Jay’s dark hair when Gavin had to track him down in the fields.

For the most part, Jay was a good sport about the tutoring. It was obvious he didn’t want it; he was most at home among the rows of corn and squash, or wading in the creek that cut across the backside of the property. But every time Gavin would come to collect him, he’d give up the hoe or the fishing line or the moment of snugging his fingers into his favorite dog’s scruff, and walk back to the house with Gavin, his gait loose and easy as he peeked up from the sides of his eyes.

It took three weeks for Gavin to break.

“Why don’t you have a mate, then?” Jay asked, the corner of his mouth tilted up like he had a secret he wasn’t keen to share.

Gavin swallowed. “Never did find the right person, I suppose,” he answered.

“Hmm.”

They walked in silence for a moment longer. Once they crested the hill, they’d be in sight of the house.

Jay stopped abruptly. “Do you believe in the old ways?”

Gavin wasn’t a man used to floundering, but he wasn’t sure how to answer Jay’s question. Not honestly, anyhow. Not without opening a box of worms that was sure to see him thrown out on his ass with no references.

When the silence hung in the air a little too long, Jay shifted his weight and ducked his head. “I do,” he murmured. “My mam does. My father’s not my real father, you know. My mam’s true alpha died when I was a child.”

Christ. Gavin scrubbed his hand across his face. He wasn’t ready for this. It was the very definition of standing between a rock and a hard place. There was even an outcropping a few feet away, and his feet took him there without his consent. The stone was hard against his backside as he sank down to sit.

When Jay joined him, Gavin sighed. “I do,” he said. “Believe in the old ways, I mean.” How could he not, when every moment since he’d met Jay, the sight and scent of the younger man called out to him like a beacon?

“Then you know what I’m about to say,” Jay said gently.

Gavin wanted to be a better man. He’d had a plan for his future, a plan that involved making nice with these people, and investing his wages, and building a name for himself. Settling down with a nice omega. Having a family.

He never dreamed he’d find his omega. The person the gods themselves chose for him. The son of a man with wealth and power, who’d made it abundantly clear that Jay would be seeking a marriage of stature in the city the following spring - if he wasn’t married off to support a business alliance, first.

“Where you are - ” Jay started, but Gavin moved quickly, placing a finger across his omega’s lips before he could finish the start of his chant, the ancient rite to take one’s own fated in marriage.

“You hardly know me,” Gavin said, but it came out weak.

Jay shook his head. “I know you by the scent of your sweat,” he said. “The pine resin and woodsmoke, the earthy loam that leaves me so scent-drunk I can hardly stand it.” Gavin opened his mouth again, but Jay hurried on before he could speak. “I know you by the way you stopped to carry my mam’s baskets for her last week, and how patient you are when I don’t understand the questions you put to me in the schoolroom.” He reached out, his fingertips ghosting along Gavin’s palm, ever mindful that they were not truly alone. “I know you by the calluses in your hands, that you’ve done hard labor - by the muscles in your arms as you tossed and played with the children on Sunday last.”

Jay looked at him boldly, defiantly, a bright flush spreading across his cheeks and over his ears, down his neck and under the cover of his shirt. “I know you as an omega knows their alpha, Gavin. Or at least, I’d like to.”

And what could Gavin do, faced with his own feral omega, Jay’s scent heady in his throat, Gavin’s own skin tingling where Jay brushed against it?

Everyone knows that an alpha surrenders to their own heart.

It was hard to keep a secret in Jay’s household. They felt like Romeo and Juliet, that famous alpha-omega couple whose forbidden love was doomed to failure. They realized it would be easier for Jay to aver any questions that might come if he was found wandering in the night or the early morning; therefore he was the one to creep quietly along the corridors in search of his alpha.

They were quiet. They had to be. Gavin agreed with Jay when Jay told him that his father would never accept them, and that he needed a few more weeks to prepare before they came clean with their deception. They knew they’d have to leave quickly in the aftermath.

Which is why it was a surprise when Jay’s mother pulled Gavin aside one morning, looking carefully up one way and down the other, before pressing a bulging cloth bag into his hands.

“I’m expecting you to do right by my boy,” she said softly. “I just want him to be happy.”

“Mrs. Adams,” he started, but she shook her head.

“My husband is a good man,” she said. “But he doesn’t understand. You take Jay and you leave, you ken? Give him a day or two to make his peace with it, and then you go.”

He opened his mouth again, but the creak of a tread on the staircase had her jerking back, stepping away from him quickly and hurrying down the hall to intercept the maid, come up to do the cleaning.

Gavin lifted the flap of the bag. Dried beans and jerky, some travelers biscuits, a small block of hard cheese. Some jewelry - more than suitable for a good trade. He sucked in a breath, glancing back the way she’d gone, before moving back to his room to secrete the bag amongst his things for safekeeping.

Jay wasn’t ready to go. It was obvious, from the drooping line of his shoulders to the crease that took up roost between his eyebrows. But he drew in a breath anyway, and reached down to fumble his shirt between his fingers where the fabric met his stomach.

“Alright, then,” he said firmly. “I’d like to leave now.”

“Now?” Gavin had intended to give him more time. A day to rest up for the journey and finish saying his goodbyes to his mam and the land he ran wild over, but Jay’s jaw was set.

“Mam wouldn’t have approached you if she weren’t worried,” he said. “That means it’s probably best to go now.”

“You know what this is about,” Gavin mused, and Jay nodded.

“We can stand here talking about it, or I can fill a pack,” he offered.

Gavin leaned down to press a kiss to Jay’s lips. “Go on, then,” he said. But as Jay stole from the room, Gavin resolved to ask again later.

The house was silent as they slipped down the stairs, avoiding the treads that creaked and groaned, and out the back door. Jay’s dog was asleep on the stoop, and he rose to his feet with a whine of greeting, wagging his tail and pressing his head against Jay’s legs.

Gavin’s stomach sank. It was clear the pup would wake the house in his excitement if they didn’t hurry things up. They didn’t have the provisions to care for a dog, but a single look at Jay’s face had Gavin whispering, “Keep him quiet and you can bring him along.”

Jay didn’t bother to hide his grin.

“Hush, Samson,” he murmured, and the dog grew calm, falling into place beside them as they crept through the courtyard and down the road.

They were well away from the town before Gavin spoke, still careful to keep his voice soft and even, the slightest rumble on the balmy night breeze. “What was it that made you want to leave tonight?”

Jay didn’t answer for a long moment, and when he did, his voice was sharp and ugly. “A suitor,” he said. “Father wants me to marry him.”

“You know the man, then,” Gavin realized.

Jay shuddered. “Yes.”

Gavin reached up to secure Jay’s hand in his. They didn’t speak for a long time.

The sun rose red in the morning, it’s crimson shadows dark like blood. Gavin’s feet were sore in his boots; he’d no doubt that Jay’s were the same.

They could stand to walk farther. A few miles more would bring them to a small town where they could have their marriage officiated in a church and trade for transportation; there’d be no separating them once they were legally secure and well away.

They stopped anyway, weary from their trek and lack of sleep. They’d no reason to suspect anyone yet knew of their departure; a few hours nap wasn’t likely to hurt.

They found a sheltered spot beneath a willow tree to hide them from prying eyes. Gavin intended to stay away to keep watch while his beloved slept - but as the long night and day before caught up to him, he too succumbed to the succor of sleep.

The growl of the dog jostled them awake; when they were roused enough from their slumber to understand the danger they were in, there was no retreating from it. They were surrounded.

There was nothing to do for it. Behind him, Jay shivered in fear. Ahead, men circled the tree, the willow vines offering scant protection. Their leader called out, crooning, his voice sickly and dead, his eyes fixed on Gavin’s mate.

“You didn’t think you could run away from me again, did you, little omega?”

The land was silent; all that could be heard was the deep thurl of Samson growling in defense of his master.

“You’ve no business here,” Gavin said, his voice loud enough to carry. “Let my husband and I go in peace.”

“I’ll see you shot for your impudence, whelp,” the strange alpha declared, and then they were out of time, out of choices, out of peace. They pulled Jay one way; tore Gavin the other. Samson’s yelp echoed, Jay’s screams heavy behind it. Their bags were shaken out and emptied onto the ground; the glittering gold of Mrs. Adam’s jewelry the last thing Gavin saw before it all went black.

* * *

Jay woke up alone in bed. The sun shone brightly through the windows. Samson lay bandaged on the bedcovers beside him. His mam gave a sharp gasp of surprise before she began to fuss over him.

“What happened?” Jay winced, and his mam’s face grew dark and weary.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she said, and the fear in the pit of his stomach grew and grew until he could no longer contain it. He bolted from the bed on unsteady feet to be violently ill in the room’s attached bath.

“Where’s Gavin?” he croaked as soon as he could speak.

“I don’t know,” came the honest reply, and those words would echo in his head in the time to come.

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

“Mam?” he started, and hated how soft and small his voice came out.

“You’re going to be okay,” she promised, and drew him into her arms, rocking him like he was a child again and not a man standing a head taller than she did. “You’re going to be okay, Jay.”

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

“Your tutor! What were you thinking?!” his father raged, and Jay stood there, dumb and stony-faced, his back straight and tall.

He wasn’t ashamed.

“It doesn’t matter,” his mother’s husband said finally. “Jessup will still take you. Has a bit of an obsession with you, poor bastard.”

“I won’t marry him,” Jay said. “I’m already mated.”

“That ridiculous ancient rite?” The man who had raised him, sheltered him, sneered, his face ugly. “At any rate, not for long.”

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

There was a knock at the locked door. Jay looked to it listlessly; it wasn’t as though anyone needed his permission to enter. That had been made abundantly clear to him. He had been locked inside for weeks, seeing only his mother, the maid Celia, and the doctor. After he heard the shouting the other night between his mother and her husband, she hadn’t been back to see him.

He placed a hand on the light, increasing swell of stomach. He expected Celia again; it was a bit early for his nightly meal but it wasn’t as if his comfort was anyone’s priority.

A key rattled in the lock.

It wasn’t the maid.

“Who are you?” he demanded, but even as the words left his lips, he knew the answer.

Witch. They said she was Jessup’s mistress - a slender, evocative thing with ink-black hair and enough presence to command an army. The look of anxiety on her face appeared unseemly, somehow.

“I can’t be found here,” she said quietly, closing the door behind her with a quiet snick.

“Why are you here?” Jay asked.

“To bring you this,” the witch said, and produced a small vial in her hands, setting it down atop his dresser.

Jay swallowed. “What is that?”

“I think you know.”

Jay said nothing for a long moment. Then - “Do you know what happened to him?”

The witch regarded Jay calmly. “Not for sure,” she said, cautious, but then her tone turned bitter. “I only know that my own beloved came back one night gloating, and that he still has plans for you.” She gestured to his stomach. “After.”

“You have to know I want no part of him,” Jay said, and the witch snorted.

“I know. Believe me. Your soul fairly reeks of the love you have for your husband. It’s… overwhelming.”

“You’re here for another reason,” Jay guessed, and backed away as she strode forward, catching his shoulders in hands of steel.

“I’ve come to warn you,” she said. “And may your souls find peace.”

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

* * *

The witch was a canny sort. She could see for herself the light that shone between the two lovers - perhaps she had seen it before they had, on a dusty summer’s day, when she’d spied the two of them cooling off in the creek.

When Jessup came to her, teeming with rage and a viciousness that scared even her, she knew that she would do his bidding. It was for the good of her own survival that she had laid the curse, that each life lived in each other’s company would be full of toils and trials, that their mistake of loving only each other might haunt them through the many worlds.

But she was not without a heart. And when she brought the curse to bear, she writ in a failsafe: that if they found their way back to one another, again and again, their love might burn apart the bindings of the curse, so that each time they encountered it, the curse would be weaker than before.

In this life, Gavin was lost, no trace of him to be seen, leaving only agony in his wake.

But in the next life, and the life after, and the many worlds as they were writ parallel throughout the universe, there were other Jays - other Gavins.

And the misery of her curse did take them, twisting their circumstances and their hopes and sometimes their very natures - but with each incarnation, the pain eased, and lessened, until all that was left was their very own

Happily ever after.

[The next episode of the Find You series is about 30k. I’ll be posting on Tuesdays and Fridays until it’s finished! For other fics, you can find my Tumblr masterpost here or check me out on A03!]

#my writing #omegaverse #original fic #find you series #fairytale

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brigdh · 7 years

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A Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzie Lee. A YA novel starring Monty, eldest son of an Earl in mid-1700s England, his childhood neighbor/best friend Percy, and his sister Felicity. The three of them are just about to begin a Grand Tour of Europe, their last summer of freedom and fun before Monty has to buckle down and behave like a noble heir, Percy starts law school, and Felicity is shipped off to a finishing school. Unfortunately none of them are particularly looking forward to their futures. Monty is very cheerfully bisexual, and has engaged in romps, gambling, drinking, and drugs to the point of being kicked out of Eton. Percy is mixed-race (the son of a plantation owner, though raised by his aunt and uncle, minor gentry) and though he's tolerated, his existence isn't always well-regarded in their circles. Felicity is pissed off about being doomed to learn embroidery and manners instead of going to medical school to become a doctor. Oh, and Monty is desperately in love with Percy, but is afraid to tell him and lose his friendship. This is just the beginning – as the book gets going, there are also revelations about epilepsy, child abuse, insane asylums, and more. It's not all serious, though. In fact, most of the book is light-hearted fun: there are encounters with highwaymen, battles with pirates, parties at Versailles, Carnevale in Venice, villas on Greek islands, operas, fortune tellers, hostage exchanges, escaping thieves, and basically every adventure one could imagine in 18th century Europe. There's even a plot about alchemists and an elixir of immortality which, to tell the truth, felt a bit out of place in the otherwise historically-based book. And, of course, there is lots and lots of pining as Monty and Percy engage in the most excellent sort of romantic-comedy suspense, yearning and avoiding telling the truth about their feelings. A++, that bit. My main complaint with the book is that Lee tries very earnestly to handle appropriately the issues of social justice she includes (racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia), but every one of the ensuing conversations feels very 2017-approved, with every term the correct vocabulary, every checkbox checked, every privilege painstakingly unpacked. Not that such views couldn't – didn't! – exist in the past, but the way Lee portrays them doesn't seem to relate to the characters or setting at all. They don't arise out of the environment of the book, but are dropped in wholesale from an outside perspective that wants to be sure we know the right way to think. And then there's the moment where one character tells another about how the Japanese mend broken pottery with gold seams, see, so that the broken places end up more beautiful than the whole, and it's meant to be a profound moment but it's just so embarrassingly like this person in the 1700s is reading off a tumblr post. But nonetheless it's a funny, sweet book, if not quite as good as I expected when I heard "Gay Roadtrip through 18th Century Europe". What it reminds me most of all is reading an AU from a fandom you don't know. Maybe the characterization and setting isn't always that great but you don't care because it's not your fandom. It has the tropes you love and you can't wait to see the couple get together at the end, so you stay up late reading it on your phone. A Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue is that experience in original fiction. Seven Surrenders by Ada Palmer. The sequel to Too Like the Lightning which I absolutely LOVED. However I really should not have waited seven months to read this one, because I'd forgotten some of the characters and plots and this is a series jam-packed with multitudes of characters and plots, and you better have every miniscule bit of such details ready at your fingertips to have a chance of following the action. To briefly summarize the plot (a task that's probably impossible, but I'll try to hit the main points) in the 25th century the world has more or less become a Utopia. Nations have been abolished, religion banished to the private sphere, and gendered distinctions made it illegal; to all outward appearances, it is a world with no reason to go to war. Unfortunately it turns out that all of this has been made possible through carefully targeted assassinations, picking off key individuals to guide the world away from war, riots, major economic downturns, etc. Not many – about nine a year, on average, for the last two hundred years. This information sets off a flurry of activity as the characters take sides, variously trying to figure out the conspiracy behind it, hide the perpetrators, uncover proof, keep the public from finding out, and broadcast the secret to as many people as possible. When several world leaders turn out to be involved, chaos breaks out worldwide. It's not just drama, though; behind the action scenes is the frequently repeated question of if it was such a bad plan after all. Is it worth losing a few lives to prevent the millions of deaths that would happen in war? Seven Surrenders is all about the philosophical dilemma. In addition to the one above, we get multiple debates over the riddle, 'would you destroy this world to save a better one?', and 'If God has revealed proof of His existence, why did He chose you above every human who's ever prayed to believe? And, more importantly, why now?' There is speculation about the power of gender, of sexual attraction, of the effect of raising children as experiments, of the role of Providence in life, of what it would mean for two Gods to meet, of how one conducts a war when there are no living veterans to teach the next generation. But there's plenty of action too – the book includes revelations of secret parentage, long-lost loves, a revenge story worthy of the Count of Monte Cristo, bombs, murders, resurrections, suicide attempts, cute kids, so many disguises, sword fights, gun battles, horse chases, and more. Ultimately I didn't like it as much as Too Like the Lightning. It just didn't feel as deep or as grand, possibly because so much stuff was happening that none of it got enough exploration. One of the most best character arcs (Bridger's) happened mostly offstage, and many of the other characters were too busy reacting to the constantly changing political winds to have a real arc. I still recommend it, because it's just so different from everything else and I have to support an author who mashes up transportation science with Diderot's philosophy. But if you read it, definitely don't wait months between books. The Cater Street Hangman by Anne Perry. A murder mystery, the first in a series set in Victorian London. Charlotte is the middle daughter of a middle-class family, believed by all to be firmly unmarriageable but happy enough with her staid life. The book opens with the murder of a young well-off woman, then Charlotte's maid is also murdered, as are several others. There is no apparent connection between the victims except that they're all young woman, all live nearby, and all were strangled. Inspector Thomas Pitt is assigned the case, and he begins to spend a great deal of time talking to Charlotte – first just to interview her regarding the murders, but then for her own sake. But will Charlotte's family allow her to marry a... policeman??? There are several interesting things about the book. Set very specifically in 1881 (which is to say, before Jack the Ripper) the very idea of a serial killer – as opposed to a thief who murders for money – is new and shocking to most of the characters. So is the concept that such a criminal could appear "normal", that rather than being a dirty, lower-class raving lunatic, it could be a respected neighbor or even a member of their own family. These are such self-evident ideas to modern people (and most characters in mystery books) that seeing Charlotte and the others wrestle with them, discuss their ramifications, and feel guilty for suspecting their husbands and fathers was pretty fascinating. I also liked that the family was so solidly middle-class. Historical fiction has a habit of gravitating toward extremes: everyone is either upper aristocracy or enduring the most grueling poverty. A family of boring bank clerks actually made for a refreshing change. Unfortunately those are the only good things I have to say about the book. The middle 2/3rds of the story drags along interminably, as nothing happens except for characters having the same few discussions over and over again. Charlotte suspects her father! First she must have a conversation about it with her mother. Then her younger sister. Then her older sister. Then her mother and the older sister talk. Then the older sister talks about it to her husband. Then... Well, you get the idea. And it's not as though each new character was bringing a fresh perspective and insight to the issue! No, we just get the same few protests and agreements recycled over and over in slightly different wordings. It's such an awful slog that I nearly abandoned the book. However, I stuck it out to the end, only to be rewarded with the reveal of the killer (warning for spoilers, I guess): a lesbian who has been driven mad by repressing her sexuality! You know, I don't think I've ever actually encountered this awful cliche in the wild before. It would almost be exciting, if it wasn't so offensive. Though there's not a lot of time to be offended, because the reveal, motivation, attack on Charlotte, rescue, and arrest all happen in the last two pages (literally) so none of it is exactly dwelt on. It's probably all for the best that I disliked this book. It's the first in a 32-book series, and now I don't feel any desire to read the rest.

(DW link for easier commenting)(Also goddamn, I am so far behind on putting up my book reviews, you guys. So prepare for a lot of that.)

#book reviews #anne perry #ada palmer #mackenzie lee #books

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shesinbrooklynwithme · 7 years

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Dr Jekyll character profile (GCSE)

Character Summary:

Dr Jekyll is a respectable member of society, who is highly intelligent and very well liked. He is shown as the epitome of Victorian society but he puts on a false face to appear respectable. Dr. Jekyll is an ambitious man of science, and his research was deemed too fanciful for Lanyon’s taste. Jekyll is also a very religious man, who created the potion to split his personality into the good side and the bad side from one another.

Key Quotes

1. The Story of the Door

“ And the person that drew the cheque is the very pink of the proprieties, celebrated too, and one of your fellows who do what they call good.”

2. Search for Mr Hyde

“Henry Jekyll, M.D, D.C.L, L.L.D, F.R.S, ect.”

“And set forth in the direction of Cavendish Square, that citadel of medicine.”

“It is more than ten years since Henry Jekyll became too fanciful for me.”

“One house, however, second from the corner, was still occupied entire; and at the door of this, which wore a great air of wealth and comfort, though it was now plunged in darkness except for the fanlight.”

3. Dr Jekyll was quite at ease

“a large, well-made, smooth-faced man of fifty, with something of a stylish cast perhaps, but every mark of capacity and kindness- you could see by his looks that he cherished for Mr. Utterson a sincere and warm affection.”

“The large handsome face of Dr Jekyll grew pale to the very lips and there came a blackness about his eyes.”

“‘But I do sincerely take a great, a very great interest in that young man; and if I am taken away, Utterson, I wish you to promise me that you will bear with him and get his rights for him.’”

4. The Carew Murder Case

“but when the stick was laid before him, he could doubt no longer: broken and battered as it was, he recognised it for one that he had himself presented many years before to Henry Jekyll.”

“This was the home of Henry Jekyll’s favourite; of a man who was heir to a quarter of a million sterling.”

5. Incident of the Letter

“It was the first time that the lawyer had been received in that part of his friends quarters; and gazed round with a distasteful sense of strangeness.”

“The fire burned in the grate; a lamp was set lighted on the chimney-shelf, for even in the houses the fog began to lie, thickly and there, close up to the warmth, sat Dr Jekyll, looking deadly sick.”

“and bade him welcome in a changed voice.”

“I bind my honour to you that I am done with him in the world. It is all at an end. And indeed he does not want my help; you do not know him as I do”

“The doctor seemed seized with a qualm of faintness; he shut his mouth tight and nodded.”

“‘What!’ he thought. ‘Henry Jekyll forge for a murderer!’ And his blood ran cold in his veins.”

6. Remarkable Incidence of Dr Lanyon

“He came out of his seclusion, renewed relations with his friends, became once more their familiar guest and entertainer; and whilst he had always been known for charities, he was now no less distinguished for religion.”

“He had his death-warrant written legibly upon his face. The rosy man had grown pale; his face had fallen away; he was visibly balder and older; and yet it was not so much these tokens of a swift physical decay that arrested the lawyer’s notice, as a look in the eye and quality of manner that seemed to testify to some deep-seated terror of the mind.”

“‘I wish to see or hear no more of Dr Jekyll,’ he said in a loud, unsteady voice.”

“I mean from henceforth to lead a life of extreme seclusion; you must not be surprised, nor must you doubt my friendship, if my door is often shut even to you.”

7. Incident at the Window

“And, by the way, what an ass you must have thought me, not to know that this was a back way to Dr Jekyll’s! It was partly your own fault that I found it out even when I did.”

“and sitting close beside it, taking the air with an infinite sadness like some disconsolate prisoner, Utterson saw Dr Jekyll.”

“very low. It will not last long, thank God.”

“But the words were hardly uttered, before the smile was struck out of his face and succeeded by an expression of such abject terror and despair, as froze the very blood of the two gentle men below.’

8. The Last Night

“‘You know the doctor’s ways, sir,’ replied Poole, ‘and how he shuts himself up.’”

“No, sir; master’s made away with; he was made away with eight days ago, when we heard him cry out upon the name of God”

“‘For God’s sake,’ he added, ‘find me some of the old.’”

“Dr Jekyll- God knows what it was, but it was never Dr Jekyll; and it is the belief of my heart that there was murder done.”

“it was different to the heavy creaking tread of Henry Jekyll”

“Nowhere was there any trace of Henry Jekyll dead or alive.”

“Go then, and first read the narrative which Lanyon warned me to place in your hands; and if you care to hear more, turn to the confession of Your unworthy and unhappy friend, HENRY JEKYLL.”

9. Dr Lanyon’s Narrative

“Lanyon my life, my honour, my reason, are all at your mercy; if you fail me to-night, I am lost.”

“some powders, a phial and a paper book. This drawer I beg of you to carry back with you to Cavendish Square exactly as it stands.”

“and if that night passes without event, you will know that you have seen the last of Henry Jekyll.”

“his clothes, that is to say, although they were of rich and sober fabric, were enormously too large for him in every measurement.”

“for there before my eyes- pale and shaken, and half fainting, and groping before him with his hands, like a man restored from death- there stood Henry Jekyll.”

10.Henry Jekyll’s full statement of the case

“I stood already committed to a profound duplicity of me.”

“by whose partial discovery I have been doomed to such a dreadful shipwreck: the man is not truly one, but truly two.”

“It was on the moral side, and in my own person, that I learned to recognise the thorough and primitive duality of man”

“Certain agents I found to have the power to shake and pluck back that fleshly vestment, even as a wind might toss the curtains of a pavilion.”

“I felt younger, lighter, happier in body; within I was conscious of a heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual images running like a millrace in my fancy, a solution of the bonds of obligation, an unknown but not an innocent freedom of the soul.”

“Hence, although I had now two characters as well as two appearances, one was wholly evil, and the other was still the old Henry Jekyll, that incongruous compound of whose reformation and improvement I had already learned to despair.”

“Yes, I had gone to bed Henry Jekyll, I had awakened Edward Hyde.”

“ten minutes later, Dr Jekyll had returned to his own shape and was sitting down, with a darkened brow, to make a feint of breakfasting.”

“Jekyll had more than a father’s interest; Hyde had more than a son’s indifference.”

“Yes, I preferred the elderly and discontented doctor, surrounded by friends and cherishing honest hopes”

“I embraced anew the restrictions of natural life! with what sincere renunciation I locked the door by which I had so often gone and come, and ground the key under my heel.”

“Jekyll was now my city of refuge; let but Hyde peep out an instant, and the hands of all men would be raised to take and slay him.”

“This, then, is the last time, short of a miracle, that Henry Jekyll can think his own thoughts or see his own face (now how sadly altered!) in the glass.”

“Here then, as I lay down the pen and proceed to seal up my confession, I bring the life of that unhappy Henry Jekyll to an end.”

Techniques used by the author:

Used to showcase mans hubris

Illustrates the ever crossing lines of science and religion.

Represents the highest goodness

Shows we all need a little darkness in us

His changing introverted and extroverted moods, to represent his transformations.

#gcse studyblr #dr jekyll and mr hyde #revision #dr jekyll #character profile

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