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polarisbibliotheque · 2 years

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Invictus (Vergil fighting nightmares and his s/o calming him down)

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: Calm nights were a rare blessing in your house. When Vergil has memories in the form of terrible nightmares, you are the one to stand by his side to remind him that now, everything is ok.

**TRIGGER WARNING** Vergil's nightmare is very explicit. It's about when he was conscious while being a puppet of Mundus - so we have mental abuse, torture (whipping), blood and humiliation. He also goes through a panic attack and needs his s/o to ground him.

The subjects here are quite heavy and, if you're sensitive to those themes and can't handle some more graphic descriptions, I'd advise not reading it. Like so, reader discretion advised.

Author's notes: Oh well. I always wanted to write on Vergil's past, precisely because we don't know how much this man has suffered to do the things he did. I'm a firm believer he has PTSD and needs a hug - so, if Capcom isn't going to give him one officially, I'll be here to fill this man's life with love and comfort.

Dante too, but today is not about him xD

His knees were buried in the freezing, smooth snow. Vergil wanted to cry, but his body wouldn’t allow it. He wanted to let go of that sword, dripping blood of his enemies, but his hands wouldn’t obey. His dark, crimson bloody fingers wanted to wash his sins away in the whiteness of the snow, but he couldn’t bury them in the frozen floor.

Vergil kept his head bowed, fighting his own body to breathe. But his eyes… His shimmering blood red eyes could still consciously see under the horned helmet.

That wasn’t him. That wasn’t Vergil, the Dark Slayer, Son of Sparda. His body forced him to remain calm, but his mind told him not to. His soul told him to rebel. To break those shackles that kept him trapped in that prison of his own making.

Why…?

That was the question revolving inside the mind of the once great son of Sparda.

Why did all that happen in his life…? Why did his father vanish? Why did his mother die? Why wasn’t him enough to protect her? Why wasn’t him powerful to properly protect himself in that night of fire? Why did he have to live alone, without knowing his twin brother was alive for most of his life? Why was he kicked in the streets like a stray animal by other humans, forced to live on his own at such a young age? Why did he have to tough up as a child to protect himself to survive? Why did people hate him just by looking at him – a helpless, homeless child, searching for food and shelter? Why did demons chase him down like he was the sole survivor of the house of Sparda?

Why was his brother such a fool to insist on making out of Hell with him? They would’ve never made it out together – and Dante would’ve never survived in there. Vergil’s odds were much better. He couldn’t hold that foolish, soft-hearted brother of his back. Dante would’ve died in there – Vergil surely did.

Why did he have to die? To be forced into servitude by his father’s enemies, to have his free will taken away from him. To serve as an enslaved soldier, obeying every order without questioning, but screaming inside his soul – always conscious, but never able to break free... Only to watch the terrible deeds someone else told him to do. Only watching himself sink deeper into failure and humiliation, bowing submissively to the one responsible for his family’s demise.

Why…? Hadn’t he suffered enough…?

Vergil’s very essence was slowly being taken away from him, slowly dying while he watched, unable to change his fate. Unable to move. He wanted to – but he couldn’t. Still kneeling in the snow, Vergil wanted to scream all the frustration out of his lungs – but he had no mouth to do so.

His breath started to gradually raise its rhythm. Vergil didn’t notice at first, until a gush of cold air stung his lungs, immediately flushed out in a hot breath.

“It’s time to come back, Nelo Angelo.”

He heard the voice in his head, another command. His legs wanted to move him up from the snow and walk straight into Mundus’ lair, to report as a humble servant of his; another of his humble knights.

For the first time, his legs dared to disobey Mundus and finally listen to their real Master. With knees freezing cold, Vergil felt his body trembling after a long time without knowing what that was. He forced his fingers to freezingly open, letting go of his sword. Burying the black gloves in the snow, Vergil saw the crimson blood dissolving into the white – never to be seen again.

He fought to raise his hands to his head, as his arms seemed to be held down by weights of pure iron. With fists up, Vergil used all his strength to slowly raise them, trembling from the effort. Under his mask, he bared his teeth, but his body didn’t allow him to make any noise.

One hand glued on one side of the black helmet. The other, soon followed the first, on the other side. They stayed in place as if magnetically attracted, never letting go, but never falling back on the snow again.

Vergil tried to take deep breaths, his lungs stinging from the cold. His throat was dry, coarse. He needed to do it. He wanted to do it.

Grabbing at the sides, Vergil managed to start pulling it out. His hands froze mid-way, refusing to do so – his body fighting his own mind. With every new effort, he moved a few inches up. But he wouldn’t give up. Vergil had suffered too much for one lifetime, but he never gave up. He would drag his dying body to his mother’s grave and die as Vergil, son of Sparda and Eva, brother of Dante – as himself. Not as anyone else.

Not. As. Anyone. Else.

With a last effort, he took the helmet off – being free from his confinements for the first time on his own.

Vergil looked at the snow – so pale, so fluffy, so crystally beautiful, as the one he played with Dante when he was a kid and their parents watched to make sure they wouldn’t get hurt. His eyes didn’t glow red: they were back to his silvery, moonlight tones.

Vergil could breathe.

Tossing the helmet on the floor. He started to cough incessantly. His throat had an ache that seemed to have installed itself there for years. Taking one of his hands to his neck, Vergil coughed blood, spitting it on the snow, another hand on the floor, holding him up.

Staring at his own hand, he realized: it was the first time since he had been encased in that infernal armor, he had control over his own body.

Vergil stared at his hands in awe.

“Nelo Angelo! I gave you an order!”

Once again, his body started to tremble. His veins were on fire, burning from inside out, forcing his body into compliance.

But his soul wasn’t made for compliance. Vergil would never be compliant. He was born to make his own fate and walk his own path, even if it ended with his blood over his mother’s grave. He was Master of himself, and no one else. His essence could never be controlled. And Vergil would die as himself. As his mother’s and father’s son.

“You… Have…” He muttered between his teeth, forcing the words in a raspy tone. His voice hadn’t been used in years, unaccustomed to speaking once again – to be expressed with the fire of the one who commanded it. “No… Power…” As he kept muttering, Vergil forced his body to get up, once again with an effort as if a thousand shackles held him down, to be forever bowed in Hell. As his feet buried in the snow and he pulled himself up, something warm came down his cheeks, contrasting with the harsh, wintery flow. “Over… Me!”

His voice echoed through the mountains and shells of dead trees, reverberating through the corpses of dilacerated demons. Vergil stood, trying to pull his body back to his proud pose, failing due to the lack of energy and trembling legs. He willed his control back to his body, showing a son of Sparda could never die as a mere puppet.

Blood flowed down his face, from his eyes – tears now made of his very own life.

“You have no… Power over me…” Vergil said once more, as if that would remain engraved as a mantra inside his head – as if it had the power to banish the control which made his body obey someone else.

Demons appeared. Angelos. Hell Sentinels. Hell Knights. Mundus sent all of his most powerful brethren to break Vergil once more. He took his sword in his hand again, barely able to stand but never backing down from a fight – specially one that meant his own freedom. If it was for him to die, he would die fighting as himself.

It took time, but he fell once more. Grabbed and shackled with thick, cursed chains, Vergil was dragged by his neck back to Hell – hands tied behind his back, forced to walk like a dog, in a humiliating procession in front of all the other demons. His upper armor was taken off, leaving him vulnerable to all kinds of attacks while his walk of shame proceeded. His chest and back leaked blood, his feet bumping in the horrifying path to Mundus’ lair, his legs trembling, and knees scarred.

Vergil held his head high, forcing the tears of blood to stay back while all his pride was stripped away from him, listening to all the horrible things those demons screamed about his mother, his father, his brother. Hearing the laughs. Being spat, tossed around, stabbed, made a jester to entertain the vilest of creatures in all worlds – helpless, without strength to fight back. Vergil could barely keep himself up, but his head… That was all he had left. A little bit of pride and the memory he was son of the mightiest demon to the day – and of the most loving human in the world, even if she had abandoned him to save his brother on that fateful night.

“Vergil… Son of that traitor Sparda. It seems like you need to be taught a lesson once again.” Mundus’ voice reverberated on the floors of Hell, the cackling laughs of the demons nearby creating a music of horror. Vergil was forced to stop in front of him, still held by his neck with a chain, like an animal.

“You will never break me.” Vergil raised his head even higher, keeping his nose as high as he could, silvery eyes burning like fire. A fine vein of blood slowly dripped from one of his eyes.

“Oh, I will. You will vanish, the bloodline of Sparda will perish. You will remain Nelo Angelo and die when I tell you too – Vergil will never exist again after I’m done with you.”

“I will die as myself.” Vergil took a deep breath, his lungs trembling as he expired. “The son of Sparda and Eva. Brother of Dante. Vergil, the Dark Slayer.”

Mundus’ didn’t answer to Vergil’s boldness. The demons that had him on a leash forced the man to kneel in front of the king of Hell, holding his arms outstretched by the sides of his body. Vergil tried to fight the chains, but they only made them tighter, forcing more blood out of his veins. The demon who held his leash pulled him forward as two other demons appeared with whips.

“Your resolve will break by pain, spawn of Sparda and that whore Eva.” Mundus’ voice jested, making the other demons cackle again. Vergil gritted his teeth, enduring the humiliation – the whips and chains might hurt his body, but the words… Those scarred his pride, his soul. His very essence. “You will son be crowned again… Nelo Angelo.”

As the first whip cracked, Vergil didn’t make a sound – holding his will to grunt. His silvery eyes kept taunting Mundus’, making him know that wasn’t enough – he would have to do much worse to break him. Vergil had suffered and tasted so many kinds of pain before, it would take much more than a couple of whips.

And Mundus would continue until those eyes stopped defying him – something Vergil didn’t do even when he started grunting from the pain.

Those demons never thought they would see Vergil, the great son of Sparda, lying barely conscious on the floor, mumbling for his mother to hold him.

“Vergil…? Vergil…! Wake up, love...!” Your voice seemed like a faint memory to his ears.

But his voice was loud and clear to you. He tossed around under the sheets, screaming as if all demons in Hell were chasing him at once. You never heard him so terrified – only when he had one of his nightmares. Only when his mind took him back to the days he was so abused he couldn’t even call himself ‘Vergil’ anymore.

You had to snap him out of it – but it was dangerous. Vergil turned aggressive: his self-protective instincts triggering and his very own devil threatening to come out – teeth already sharp, nails turning into claws. He could hurt you badly if you weren’t careful.

“Vergil…! Wake up! You’re safe!” You reached out for him, knowing very well he was hearing you. Vergil turned his head to you, making you sure he was chasing your voice. “It’s ok… You’re safe. I’m here. Open your eyes…”

But he went back to screaming, as if something grabbed him by the neck. Vergil was almost kneeling on the bed at this point – and you tried your best to keep him from reaching out to Yamato.

If he did, well… You’d have to buy a new bedframe. Again.

“Vergil…! Listen to my voice…!” You spoke as gently as you could, being bold enough to approach him. You know he wouldn’t stop until something anchored him back to reality. “Vergil…!”

You placed your warm hand on his face, trying to get him to stop moving. As soon as he felt your touch, Vergil gradually stopped, seeming to follow your movements, your voice.

“You’re safe. You’re with me, love.” You whispered; voice as smooth as silk. Your other hand found the other side of his face, carefully caressing a lock of hair away from his forehead, as he liked to wear it. “You are safe, Vergil. Wake up.”

You noticed as his breathing gradually went back to normal, inspiring profoundly to let go of the air and do it again. Vergil opened his eyes slightly, finding your legs kneeling in front of him on the mattress. His neck and forehead were damp with sweat, your hands warming up his cold skin. His own fingers were trembling, and he could barely feel his legs. His back was on fire, as if the whips had just cracked his skin open for the first time.

“I’m with you… You’re safe, my love. Hear me? You’re safe.” You kept repeating those words, knowing it was the key to bring him back to the present – ignoring that intrusive memory in the form of a nightmare. Vergil didn’t always tell you about his nightmares, but he did mention they were about the times he was forced to live under the control of Mundus and slowly lose himself, or when he was just a kid trying to survive in a world that despised him – or that dreadful night he and Dante lived so many years ago.

Vergil raised one of his trembling hands to his face, enveloping your fingers with his. Closing his eyes, Vergil took a deep breath, moving your hand to caress his jaw, his nose, his lips. He ran your fingers on his mouth a couple of times – your touch, so different and softer than his, always seemed to ground him once more. As your fingers painted the form of his lips, he became more aware of the moment he was living: the mattress, the Devil May Cry, his room, the cars passing by on the streets, the silence of an ordinary day in a human life, the texture of the sheets against his skin, the weight of his body on the bed… You.

His heart rate decreased slowly as Vergil came back to reality, to his present. He wasn’t in danger. He wasn’t in Hell anymore. No one had power over him. He was free… He was Vergil. Son of Sparda and Eva. Brother of Dante. Father of Nero. The Dark Slayer. Your lover.

He was safe.

“Did I…” Vergil cleared his throat, his voice rasping to leave his chest after all the screaming. “Did I hurt you…?”

“No. You would never.” You whispered back, smiling peacefully at him while caressing his ruffled, distressed white hair. Vergil stared back at you with tired and melancholic eyes.

“Not consciously, my dearest.”

You knew what that phrase implied. Vergil was one of the most powerful human and demon to ever step on earth – challenged only by his brother – but you knew what kinds of fears he hid away in the darkest corners of his soul. It took you a long time as a couple and eons of trust to reveal the most vulnerable parts of yourselves – and Vergil was no exception.

He was half-human, after all. He had his own demons – the ones only he could see and only he could face and kill. Vergil feared losing control again: of his body, of his soul, of his essence. He feared being a puppet. He feared hurting those he loved – after he did all to gain power to protect, even himself, that power could also be used to kill. And, in case that happened once more, only Dante could stop him – by then, the damage would already be done.

“I don’t believe you could hurt me, even unconsciously.” You murmured back, still caressing his face. Vergil longed for your touch, and it grounded him even more, anchoring him back enough so his mind wouldn’t fly away in a flashback – as he was now awake. “You’d know it’s me. And I know your will, it’s as strong as mine. You’d never allow yourself to be controlled without a fight… And you’d never let someone hurt me, even through you.”

“Hmmm…” Vergil pondered your answer, taking another deep breath. Now he noticed how cold it was, as his body gradually relaxed and the drops of sweat found the chilly air of the night. “What makes you so sure…?”

Your answer wasn’t in words at first. Placing your hand over his chest, you felt his heart beating under your palm – a little fast, but definitely slower than when you woke up. Vergil looked at your hand for a few moments, turning his silvery gaze to your own eyes as your touch warmed his chest. You could always melt the ice he thoroughly encased his heart in.

Staring at the path to your soul, he knew. Nevertheless, you decided to put it into words – believing in their power as a little kind of ordinary magic.

“This is the heartbeat of a human.” You whispered, approaching him enough for Vergil to feel your hot breath on his lips. It was soothing, comforting – as if you could envelop him in a much smoother and kinder world than the one he had lived for so long. Your eyes, though, held his gaze. “The line from your heart would find mine, for it isn’t in our bodies… It’s tied to our essence, to our very soul. As your eyes are finding it right now inside mine, you would find it – no matter in what form, state of mind or lifetime… Your heart, your human heart, would find me, and you’d know. You would never hurt me… Consciously or unconsciously.”

It was a rare sight, but you could see it shimmering in the moonlight and running down his face: a single tear trailed slowly on Vergil’s cheek, glimmering like a lonely diamond, and resting on your thigh.

Another rare sight was the one of Vergil closing his eyes and allowing himself to cry in front of you, letting go of his usual proud, strong, and stoic demeanor; opening a side of himself only for your eyes to see. Leaning his head on your hand, Vergil let his eyes cry to his heart’s content.

“And you should know… I will always be here with you. It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll*. I will always walk with you, Vergil, to protect you, cradle you or fight by your side.” Your other hand went up to his hair, feeling as Vergil’s tears increased their flow. Even so, he didn’t make any noise. “I fear nothing when I’m with you because my love for you is greater than whatever worry fate can throw at me. My soul will choose yours in any form, state of mind or lifetime – and whenever those memories come to terrorize you during sleep, you can be certain I will never run away, for I am here to walk through life with you, no matter what.”

Vergil always believed there were words, proses or poems for every situation in life – but, at that moment, he felt draught on his tongue and rain on his eyes. There were no words in any of the languages he knew enough to express the warmness on his chest that swelled and made him breathless from the things you told him – because, as he once might have said, he too wanted to be protected and loved.

Vergil’s head found its place on your shoulder, nuzzling your neck while his arms wrapped around your body. You didn’t even flinch or think before retributing, caressing his messy hair and wide shoulders. His form – always so regal, towering over yours – was now curled around you, trying to find the best way to comfortably feel like nothing in this world could tear you both apart.

Your heart found his inside your chests and beat in unison. In all his troubled and tortured path, Vergil never thought he would find love and protection like he yearned when he was a child – turning to power to feel safe. But now, in your arms, he knew he could never feel entirely safe from his power only.

For when Vergil screamed from the terrors he had lived, you never ran away and always held his hand to walk through the very fires of Hell alongside him. In a way, that reminded him of someone else… Someone who held him in her arms long ago, who walked through fire to save her children and put herself in danger for love.

That was the very last time Vergil felt safe in his life… Until now, in your arms. And if that wasn’t love, then Vergil could argue he didn’t know what was.

*Invictus, by William Ernest Henley:

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeoning of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.

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darehearts · 8 months

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-lays face down on the dash-

#good morning glitter bombs ;u; wow it's monday and just!! sorry for the #tmi but shark week hit and i am in immense pain i can hardly breathe #and i'm also at work somehow sjdfjsf pls pray for me! later in the day #i will be receiving all my graphics commissions i am excited about it!!!#gonna finally have a theme and everything! cant wait. but yeah i think #consider me out of commission for today due to me suffering a lot ;;#i love you all so much! i hope the week started off more gently for you!#tbd #vent tw #tmi tw

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oneforthemunny · 5 days

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Mafia!eddie Break my heart (pls put it back together) angst+fluff

you ask and you shall receive. i am not liable for the pain and suffering this blurb may cause. lol. also this is pre- bea obviously. angst with a little fluff (little unresolved). also contains mafia themes and some mentions of violence but nothing graphic.

"Would you ever... want kids?"

Eddie's body went still, rigid like it did when he opened the door and saw a fed standing there, or when he saw Gareth battered and bleeding after being jumped and robbed by a rival. A fear that ran through his body and left him unmoving, body snapping into a survival mode that was rare in the comfort of his own bedroom- rare with you.

You looked up, brows furrowing in the dim light of the room. "Ed?" You hummed, taking in his stoic expression, cold and unmoving. "What? Did I-I said something wrong?"

"No," Eddie swallowed, throat tight but voice coming out even. "No, I just- Where's this coming from?" He looked down at you, eyes scanning over every single detail of your features.

You looked down sheepishly towards your hand rested on Eddie's chest, engagement ring bright, glistening in the moonshine that crept in between the curtains. "I dunno." You mumbled, burning with embarrassment. "I just- I was just thinking about it the other day."

"I thought we talked about it." Eddie's tone was harsher than he meant it to, throat strangling his words.

"I know," You mumbled, face falling in disappointment. "Just... Never mind."

"No," Eddie shook his head. "Baby, you know... You know I don't want kids. I thought I was pretty clear when I told you that." Early in your relationship, what felt like a lifetime ago, when you were just getting serious, when it was all becoming real, you'd brought it up. He'd told you that he didn't want them, didn't want to be like his dad and bring a kid into this "shit show".

That was so long ago. Things had changed, you and Eddie had gone through so much, engaged and planning to go through so much more. You thought maybe, just maybe, he might have changed his mind.

The look on his face, bordering on horrified, told you he hadn't.

"You were, just- I'm sorry, just forget it." You huffed, pushing off his chest, rolling over to your side of the bed, desperately trying to ignore the burning in your throat.

"Hey, c'mon," Eddie's hand reached out for yours, trying to stop you. "Don't do this. Talk to me. Where's this coming from?"

You swallowed down your tears, trying to even your own voice. "It's just," Your voice shook. "I just thought maybe you... you changed your mind." You looked at Eddie with watery eyes.

"Baby," Eddie cooed, hand sliding up your arm comfortingly. "I'm not changing my mind on that."

Your heart fell, pulling your arm away from him harshly. "Wait, hey- Where are you going?" Eddie huffed, leaning to smack on the light.

You fumbled out of bed, reaching for your nightgown that had been discarded on the ground, hoping Eddie couldn't hear the sobs you were trying to muffle.

"What- Why are you so upset?" Eddie furrowed his brows. "What is going on with you? You knew how I felt-"

"-Yeah, I did." You snapped. "But I didn't think you'd be so- so final on it." It was stupid, you knew it was, stupid to ever think for a moment that he would change his mind. But he'd been so good with your nephew, so sweet and so... so natural when he held him and rocked him. You'd just thought maybe, maybe it would be different now.

"Was I not clear?" Eddie scoffed lightly, throwing a hand up. "Did I say something that made you think I'd changed my mind?"

"No, you- just forget it." You snapped, wiping your tears away quickly. "Just fucking forget it."

"Wait, hold on," Eddie stood, voice booming when you started to leave. "What's going on? What's your problem?"

"Nothing!" You shrilled, refusing to look at him. "I'm just sleeping in the guest room-"

"-No, you're not." Eddie shook his head, finality in his tone. "Turn around and talk to me. Tell me what's going on. Where this is coming from."

Your lip wobbled, a wave of tears threatening to spill over that you tried to swallow down. "Y-You know, you don't have to be so final about it." You turned, glaring at him. "Like having a baby with me would be the worst thing in the world."

Eddie gawked. "Did I say that? I never fucking said that, so don't start putting words in my mouth-"

"-You didn't have to say it!" You yelled. "I mean, I get why you were so passionate about it before, but now... You're telling me you don't ever even think about it? You've never once imagined what it would be like to have a baby with me?"

Eddie's breath stuttered, mind blanking for a moment. Of course, he had. From the moment you met the boys, cooed over them and spoiled them, all he thought about was how good of a mom you'd be. How good of a mom you'd be if you had your own little baby.

"N-No." Eddie stammered lightly, heart lurching when your face fell, choking on a sob, turning towards the door. "Wait, wait, don't- come back here." Flinging the blanket off the bed, scrambling after you.

The dogs were in the hallway, Vecna and Lucifer following you closely, ears high on alert for who caused your upset. "Baby, come back here. I-I didn't- it's not you."

"N-No," Your chest shook with sobs, stomping down the stairs. "It's fine."

"Don't do this, just-just listen to me. It's not you. It's never been you, it's me. You know it's me, and-and this." Eddie frantically motioned to the space around him, a house bought with blood money, money he'd gotten from his job.

You didn't reply, a sniffly, wet sob his only response. The dogs footsteps blending with yours, down the hall and to the guest room, the door snapping shut echoing through the house.

Eddie ran a hand down his face, taking a slow, deep breath to try and control his flustered emotions, trying to gather his racing thoughts before he went to try and make things right, unsure of where to start.

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cemetery-sunset · 15 days

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Cullen Family Helping You Through a Depressive Episode [headcanons]

divider from: @saradika-graphics

🧣Carlisle

- The most logical one to be honest

- Being a doctor, he knows how important it is to keep you healthy

- He keeps you fed/watered/nourished, makes you whatever food you want and brings it to you in bed

- Carlisle always makes sure that you have a cool glass of water on your bedside table

- He also helps you stay clean; he will offer to hop in the tub or shower and bathe with you, or if you asked him to he would just wait in the bedroom getting some pajamas for you

- He’ll brush your hair for you, but he’s not a very good stylist so dont expect anything more than a simple braid (and even that would look a little wonky lol)

- Offers to lay with you, if you accept he will hold you so gently and lovingly

- Continuously praising you and telling you how strong you are and how good you have been doing

- Sometimes he will read to you while you cuddle, any book you want

- He's always there for you, he never hesitates to help you whenever you need

- Sometimes he knows when you start spiraling before you do

- He knows just the right things to do and say to help you calm down

- He’s surprisingly scared that you’re going to do something stupid if things get too bad. He hides his fear well, he doesn't want you to worry about him on top of everything else

- Always tries his best to help you and stay by your side for as long as you need

🐴Jasper

- He can feel that you’re feeling down, without you even telling him

- Never try to hide it from him, cause thats never going to work. He always knows what you’re feeling, and he is always on red alert whenever he feels literally any negative emotion from you

- Jasper is a quiet person, so he isn’t very forward or aggressive about his approach, his is more subtle but still very much effective

- He doesn’t really say a lot, it’s his actions that speak volumes.

- His love language is quality time and touch, so he is always by your side

- He is definitely the type to ask if he can touch you when you start to spiral. If you’re panicking, he asks to give you a hug; if you dont feel comfortable with that, he’ll just hold your hands

- Jasper has never been more grateful for his powers than those times when you feel so down and self hating

- It hurts him so much to feel all that pain and suffering you feel for yourself, and/or in general

- He enjoys quietly cuddling together, which always seems to improve your mood

- If things are really bad, he will hum some old country songs from his childhood, but thats very rare

- The biggest thing he does is to use his powers to help you, but he doesn’t do it to much because he doesn’t want to control your emotions, he just wants to help you know what i mean?

⚾Emmett

- My favorite himbo <3

- His biggest thing is to distract you and get your mind off of whatever is hurting you

- He will be the one to offer cuddles before you even ask, he hugs you so tight and starts talking about everything and nothing

- Emmett would be the first to help get you out of bed

- He would make a huge effort to keep you fed, he just wants to keep you healthy

- If you’re feeling up for it, he likes to take you on hikes in the woods. It’s a simple thing but it helps you focus on something else

- If you don’t want to get out of bed, he is perfectly fine just cuddling and watching something on tv

- He will whisper sweet things into your ear

- Telling you how much he loves you

- He focuses a little less on the actual situation and more on hyping you up in general

- Like he will compliment your personality and appearance. He will go over everything he loves about you and every single part of your body and tells you why he loves all of it

- He loves to cover you in kisses and doesn’t stop showering you in praises until he knows for a fact that you’re feeling better

🎹Edward

- Would either be the sweetest, most comforting man ever or a distant, super cold one

- There’s no in between, sorry about it :/

- Sometimes he would be almost suffocating with how worried and close he would be

- He wouldn’t leave your side for a second, always doing anything you need

- But sometimes it would start to make him start to spiral

- Like he would start to worry that he’s not good enough to take care of you and you dont deserve him

- After he sees how stupid that thought is, he sees how much you need him in this hard time so he steps up to the plate and starts doing much better

- He doesn’t know how to cook, but he’ll buy you any food you want

- He will gladly cuddle and praise you whenever you need

- Sometimes he will even play you some piano, to help you drift off to sleep

- He would surprise you with a song he wrote for you

- Even if he doesn’t want to force you to do anything he would persuade you to get out of bed

- Both of you sit at the piano and she will teach you a thing or two

- But usually he likes to take you on walks in the woods, his favorite thing to do is just lay in the field with you and feel the cool breeze and your warm hand in his

- It brings him peace. Being there with you and knowing that he’s helping you feel better

👑Rosalie

- She is similar to Jasper with the more subtle approach

- Rosalie understands what it’s like to have those really bad days because she’s had them

- She will help you stay clean and eat something

- Rosalie would take baths with you and brush your hair, doing it up in a beautiful style

- Usually people see her as the cold, stubborn type of girl, but she’s much more than that

- She knows what it’s like to feel that broken

- That’s why she offers her help in any way she can, anything you want, it’s yours

- It’s the little things for her

- Like she’ll make you a simple sandwich or just be cuddling with you

- A bunch of those little things just keep adding up and she doesn’t stop there

- She would bring you gifts to try to raise your spirits

- She’s a little awkward in her approach to showing you this much affection, thats why she does a bunch of little things rather than huge declarations of her love

- It’s more of an unspoken understanding about how much she loves you. But when times like these hit, she realizes that you need her reassurance and love more than ever

- She puts in a huge amount of effort into those small gifts and actions, just to make sure you know she loves you and will always be there when you need

🌖Alice

- I know that all of the Cullens know what it’s like to feel broken and hurt, its just that some know the feeling more than others

- Alice definitely knows that feeling

- Sometimes she sees that you’re going to have an episode before it even starts

- So she starts gathering all the supplies: your favorite snacks, blankets and anything else you need

- She is super worried for you but she hides it with her positivity

- She will give you makeovers and take care of you, without you even asking

- The makeovers are her favorite because not only is it a way to get your mind focused on other things but it’s an easy way to help keep up your hygiene with the showering and the self care she helps you with

- Sometimes, if things are looking really bad she will get really worried that something bad was going to happen

- Then she sees a vision of everything being okay in the future

- She very much enjoys wrapping you in tight hugs and whispering nice things to you

- Everything from “You’re so beautiful inside and out, i love you so much” to “everything is going to be okay, we’re going to get through this together. I’ve seen it”

🥀Esme

- Dare i say: she would take a much more maternal and protective approach

- I dont want to say she forces you to eat and drink but she definitely makes you stay nourished

- She is more than willing to make you anything you want, she just wants to help in any way she can to make you feel better

- She will help you bathe and cuddle all day if you need

- Cuddling is her specialty, she makes it even better because she likes to sing quietly

- She likes to hum and sing you cute little songs until you drift back to sleep

- As much as she doesn’t want to force you to do anything, she does make you take regular walks and get outside every day

- The movement and fresh air are very important

- She will make a picnic basket and take it on a small hike, just the two of you

- Esme would gladly make your favorite food (or try to) and have a cute little picnic to take your mind off of things :)

#twilight #twilight renessaince #twilight fanfiction #twilight imagine #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #emmett cullen #emmett cullen x reader #edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #rosalie hale #rosalie hale x reader #alice cullen #alice cullen x reader #esme cullen #esme cullen x reader

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qqueenofhades · 3 months

Note

Is it normal that I’m legitimately so scared of saying pretty morally tame things like “I don’t want to talk about genocide because it makes me severely uncomfortable” or in general expressing my political opinion.

Like i’m not even kidding when I say that all my drafts are just my possibly offensive (probably not) political takes i’m just so scared of everyone leaving me it’s not even funny.

Anyway i also think that if you talk about Palestine but not Ukraine you are a victim of Russian Propaganda™️

I’m sorry I don’t know why i did this have a nice day ok baiiiiiii

Here's the thing. You and every other average social media user should not have to masquerade as a sudden in-depth expert on every single social, political, humanitarian, etc. crisis that we are dealing with in this wretchedly miserable excuse for a timeline. It should not be a baseline expectation on you that when you log onto your little social media in your little average life, you have to come up with The Correct Opinions on everything and if you don't, you're "perpetrating oppression" by not vigorously spreading misinformation, instead of simply admitting that you don't know what to do, you as an average citizen are not in a position of making this change and therefore don't actually have to spend every waking minute obsessing about it, and that maybe, just maybe, you'd like to spend more time informing yourself until and/or IF you decide you want to talk about it. This is the same as the Instagram Activists (TM) who traumatize themselves to the point of PTSD by constantly consuming torture and/or war porn and/or graphic content about murdered children because they "don't have the right to look away." Actually, you do. You are able to make choices to control your personal social media use and to set boundaries as to what you do and do not want to do and/or see, rather than insisting that the only moral choice is to literally mentally destroy yourself with all the weight of human suffering in the world and then expected to act as a de facto expert on all of it, on pain of being Cancelled. This is a stupid, irrational, unhealthy, and generally idiotic expectation. You should not have to take part in it. Nobody should.

Likewise, I think that this is a large part of why people are so scared to voice any opinion that goes against the Prevailing Groupthink: they are afraid of losing friends, of having nasty bad-faith internet trolls say mean things about them, being accused of being a "bad person," or otherwise being guilt-tripped, shamed, and blamed for not centering their entire existence around something that they cannot actually do anything about. Once again, people think the only way you can be Known to Oppose Something Problematic (tm) is if you post on social media about it all the time. Forget whatever you might be doing offline, in your real life, or otherwise; it "doesn't count" if you don't make a big virtuous display of your Rightthink, or you will be viciously harassed. Now, look, I am old and/or tired enough that I don't give a shit what stupid internet users say about me, but I can tell you that I sure did when I was younger, it was incredibly painful to be on the end of those kinds of attacks, and it's (again!) not something you should just have to expect as a baseline level of gaslighting and harassment. As I have said. This is Tumblr. It is a stupid blue website mostly for fandom and/or three in-jokes. This is not a platform where we are expected To Do Social Justice all the time, nor should it be. As for Elon Musk's Twitter: yeah. No.

Also: yes, if you do spend all your waking moments obsessing over Palestine, but say nothing whatsoever about Ukraine and/or openly support Russia, you are in fact very much a victim of Russian Propaganda and you 100% support genocide when it's done by an "anti-western" state that you support for that reason alone. You only care because you can use the cause to make yourself look morally superior, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with opposing genocide on a basic, universal, or fundamental level. The end.

(I hope you have a nice day too. The anger in this is not directed at you. I support everything you've said here and hope that you're able to set healthy boundaries and protect yourself.)

#wolfieisacat #ask #politics for ts #apparently i am in a fighting mood today #so i might as well get it all out

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beachylupin · 6 months

Text

American Woman || Remus Lupin x American!Fem!Reader

jesus christ. i'm so sorry that it's taken me almost a month to update this story. i think i got very overwhelmed with posting all of it, and the whole entire thing just so happens to be like... 10k words and i frankly don't have time to go through and edit all of that right now. good for more parts, right? also SLOW BURN? please tell me that one of you picks up on it. pls. i wish i could promise that the next part won't be so long away, but i genuinely can't promise anything </3 as always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated <3 part 1 here, mb here word count: 3.4k warnings: this isn't necessarily happy, kind of stressful, a wee graphic (?), maybe like two swear words, quickly edited, i'm sorry

The Eldritch Manor had one bedroom with a double bed in the center of it and two dressers. Remus, who had already claimed one of the dressers, had given the bed to you since you were the “guest” in the safe house, but you had every intention of switching with him after his change in a week.

All the things the change did to a body was devastating, and you knew the small leather sofa wasn’t going to do any good for him or his already aching limbs.

Remus wasn’t young for his age. He was turning nineteen in a few months, but his body aged quicker due to the trauma it was put through every month, making his body at least thirty-five. He had a cane propped up against the wall near the front door that he hadn’t used yet, multiple first aid kits stacked under the bathroom sink, and cabinets full of prescription grade no-maj pain-killers, given to him out of love by his no-maj born friend.

He knew his body was much older than yours, and yet, he crammed himself onto the tiny, two-seater sofa in front of the fireplace the first night happily, telling you to sleep well.

You woke in the chilly bedroom and dressed casually: jeans and a thick, navy blue knit sweater. You paired it with wool socks, happy you had thought ahead and brought warm clothes.

The Manor was drafty, as you learned last night when you nearly froze yourself to sleep once you shut the bedroom door.

You poked your head out of the bedroom, seeing Remus still asleep on the couch, an open book laying on the ground next to him. His scarred face this peaceful was a comforting sight. Your heart clenched as he shifted, knowing this would most likely be his last good sleep for a week and a half, the moon getting fuller and fuller every night.

Remus looked so young; much younger than he had looked last night in the light of the fire. His lanky legs were curled up under him, sure to crack when he woke up and stretched. His cheek was squished against the arm, soft puffs of air blowing through his lips.

It had been a late night discussing both of your lives, mugs of tea warming your hands as you sat in the recliner across from Remus on the couch.

Remus had grown up in Wales under the protective shadow of his mother and father, Lyall and Hope. Hope was a muggle homemaker, and Lyall worked for the Ministry’s Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Since this department was so broad, it was very mismanaged, and the werewolf registry had gone unnoticed for a long time.

Fenrir Greyback was brought in for questioning after two muggle children were killed, their bodies showing signs of a werewolf attack. Greyback wasn’t registered, but Lyall recognized all the signs he showed, claiming that he was, indeed, a werewolf.

“Soulless!” Lyall had yelled during that hearing. “Evil, wretched creatures! They deserve nothing but suffering and death!”

He was then thrown from the hearing, ultimately sealing his son’s fate as Greyback was released that same day.

Greyback broke and entered into their home, turning Remus shortly before his fifth birthday, changing Lyall’s views on lycanthropy forever.

The Lupin’s became nomads, moving from small village to small village, trying to contain their child’s behavior by keeping him as a recluse. He had a loving home, but had never known friends before Hogwarts.

You, on the other hand, grew up in New York, in a small town near Lake Placid. Your upbringing was fairly normal. Your muggle father worked as a carpenter, whereas your mom worked for the Wizarding Resources Department for the Magical Congress of the United States in New York City. She was gone from the time you woke up until shortly after you went to bed most days.

Because of that, it was mainly you and your father, who treated you like you were made of solid gold. He was a fantastic chef, an amazing storyteller, and the reason why you were able to be independent in your young adult life, giving you the courage to stand on your own two feet.

Since your town was surrounded by woods, it was unsafe to go out at night in fear that the creatures of the forest would take you away.

You were nine when the howling you often heard far out in the forest came closer. They were outside in the streets of your town. In the homes of your neighbors.

What was to become of your friends? The girl down the street that invited you to her sixth birthday party? The boy you sat next to in second grade? The woman who handed out full-sized candy bars on Halloween?

Their homes were being ravaged by monsters.

Screams followed the howls, and the two of you did as you were supposed to: you hid under your bed until the streets got quiet again, and your muggle father, only armed with a shotgun, sat by the front door in wait.

Your house, miraculously, was untouched.

When the howls stopped, and the screams turned to cries, you crawled out from under your bed, finding your father horror-struck by the picture window, staring out at the carnage.

You couldn’t help but peek, seeing your neighbor boy, Lukas, writhing on the tar, his mother wailing as she tried to cover his exposed insides. He was your friend. The boy who taught you how to play ball.

How could they? Your little brain screamed. What kind of monster could do that? He was a child!

Your father pulled you away from the window, his eyes wide as he knelt down to look at you.

“Don’t blame the wolves, sweetheart,” he said, his voice grave. “Nobody has ever shown them kindness. They don’t know any better.”

You tiptoed to the kitchen, bringing your small suitcase, to begin brewing your first batch of wolfsbane for him.

You set up on the kitchen table and began carefully brewing the potion. Sure, it was difficult, but you could do it with your eyes closed at this point.

“Wolfsbane, betony, and a drop of dittany,” you mumbled to yourself, dropping it all in a cauldron before adding some water. You let it steep over the stove top, taking a peek back into the living room.

Remus was still asleep, mouth now open as his feet hung up and over the armrest. The blanket had fallen off of him at some point, leaving him in flannel bottoms and a plain, white t-shirt. How was he not freezing?

You checked your watch. You had about a minute before you needed to stir the potion and add bat spleen powder and another drop of dittany. Surely, you could put the blanket back over him.

Or would that be too presumptuous? That’s something a friend would do, right? Or a lover, for that matter. Was Remus even your friend? He could be even though you just met. He gave up the bed for you, and the two of you had spilled your life stories to one another. Surely, that meant something.

You shook your head at the thought, turning back to the burner to continue the potion.

Remus woke up near the end of your process, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched and sat up.

He saw you standing in the doorway of the kitchen, calling out, “You chilly? I can start another fire.”

You glanced over your shoulder, noticing him staring at you from the couch, his hair mused from sleep. Your cheeks started to burn as you looked back at the potion.

“If you want to, sure,” you said, eyes on the potion. “Otherwise, this is almost done, then I can do it.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he got up with a groan, taking a squat near the fireplace.

Your brain screamed as your cheeks continued to burn. Remus was a very handsome guy, but you weren’t supposed to feel anything for him, except maybe bad for his situation.

But he was kind, and you could tell he was the most gentle out of all of his friends you met last night. He seemed to care.

If you were going to feel anything for anyone in England, it was always going to be him.

A blue plume of smoke caught your attention. You pulled the small cauldron off the burner and strained it into a mug.

You turned around, watching Remus light the fire and take a seat on the couch, his brown eyes locking to yours as you entered the room.

You handed him the freshly brewed potion, taking a seat at his feet. “Drink up while it’s still warm,” you said, urging the mug to his lips. “It isn’t as bad when it’s warm.”

Remus’ nose crinkled. “You don’t understand how terrible it tastes.”

“I’ve tried it,” you said. “Just drink it, and I’ll make you some green tea.”

He sighed, throwing you a glare before downing the potion and holding back a gag. He thrusted the mug into your hands, his palms meeting his forehead as he groaned.

“See? Not as bad warm,” you teased, reaching out to pat his knee.

Remus shook his head. “‘S just as bad.”

“‘M sorry,” you cooed. “How do you want your tea?”

“Plain,” he muttered, his palms finally leaving his forehead. “Not green. Earl grey if possible.”

“Fresh out,” you said, having just thrown away the box last night. He groaned. “Do you want coffee instead?”

“Black?” He asked, perking up.

“I can do that,” you said. “You should get dressed. ‘M assuming we’ll be getting guests soon.”

He nodded and shuffled off into the bedroom while you walked back into the kitchen.

You heard a door open behind your back. Assuming it was Remus who might’ve forgotten something, you didn’t turn around, not wanting to seem like you were checking on him.

“Where’s that lass?” A bassy man shouted from the front door. “That American woman?!”

You almost screamed, peeking out from the kitchen.

The man standing at the door was a marvel. Despite his low and loud voice, he stood stout at just five and a half feet, he looked miniscule compared to the large man that barged in next to him..

Remus poked his head out of the bedroom, looking at you in the kitchen doorway, eyebrows furrowed.

As if he could sense your silent confusion, the short man laughed loudly. “I’m Demolcles Belby! I’m told you’re Bane,” he said then looked at Remus. “You must be Moony then?”

Remus smiled tightly and nodded once at the short man, glancing back at you before disappearing behind the bedroom door again, closing it.

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, and you nervously wiped your hands on your dark jeans as you crossed the small house.

“Hi, Mr. Belby,” you gushed, extending your hand toward him as you introduced yourself. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Ah, someone who shares my passion?” He said, his grip tight on your hand. “The pleasure is all mine!”

“They sent you? You’re Bane?!” The other man, who you assumed to be Mr. Moody from his gruff hmph, barked. “You’re just a kid!”

You stood straighter, taking the familiar insult with narrowed eyes. “You must be Mr. Moody? The one who wanted me to disapparate across the ocean?” You asked, extending your hand to him. “I’d like to think that I’m more than just a kid.”

Remus came back into the living room as Moody snubbed your hand. He was dressed in a dark green button up and jeans, staring at your extended hand, eyebrows furrowed.

“She’s much more than a kid, Alastor!” Belby shouted back, taking your hand into his. “She jus’ so happens to be the Congress’s most innovative potioneer! Why, you’re lookin’ at the lass who tried figurin’ out a way to produce wolfsbane potions at mass market value.”

Remus looked between you and the man before wandering into the kitchen for his promised cup of coffee.

“That’s expensive,” Moody scoffed, briefly glancing at Remus leaving before returning his attention to you. “You’d never be able to afford the resources without making it cost thousands of galleons.”

“Well, when you have a greenhouse filled with the most important ingredient, and almost everything else is locally sourced, it becomes a lot less expensive,” you said, a small smirk playing on your lips as he grumbled under his breath. “My only issue is preservation. Simply jarred? It spoils during the new moon. Canned? Possible since it won’t spoil, but not ideal… The taste is still there. Pill form? Now-”

“A wolfsbane pill?” Remus piped in, now standing next to Moody, a warm mug in his hands. “That’s genius.”

“I’d like to think it’s possible,” you said, your cheeks turning pink. “I just have to find out a way to turn the potion to powder and-”

“That’s not what you’re here for,” Moody cut you off, crossing his arms.

You shut your mouth, teeth grinding as you tightened your jaw. “I know that,” you quipped, standing straighter.

“All work and no play. Isn’t that, Bane?” Belby chuckled, slapping your back. “We should probably get crackin’, now shouldn’t we?”

You threw him a tight smile, nodding before looking at Remus, who was already staring.

“We-” Moody said, his attention turning to Remus. “-have our own matters to attend to.”

Remus nodded once, clearing his throat. “Right,” he mumbled, glancing back at you. “Good luck.”

You smiled slightly, mumbling, “Thanks, you too.”

That’s how the rest of the week continued. Moody would angrily drop Belby off so that the two of you could continue your work while Remus disappeared with him, wishing you well on his way out the door.

Belby wasn’t horrible to work with. Rather, he was a joy, just a bit too loud for your liking. Sure, he had a lot of interesting stories, and you genuinely learned a lot from him when he wasn’t shouting about his brother’s kid, but when someone shouts around you for eight hours a day, it starts to become grating.

Especially when trying to figure out a way to turn a liquid to a vapor while exploding at the same time.

You took many bathroom breaks just to get some peace and quiet, staring at yourself in the mirror and asking yourself if you had done the right thing in coming here.

Remus would always come back in the evening, usually having just eaten at the pub with his friends. His spirits seemed to be high every time he reappeared for the night, happy to be home even if you didn’t talk to him very much.

He’d quietly sit on the couch after stoking the fire and fixing himself a drink, his nose in one of the many books strewn along the floor. He’d always place a glass of water next to you as he passed, his scarred hand gently squeezing your shoulder.

You frankly had little time to eat or talk, your forehead in your hands as you stared at the papers in front of you. The now daily migraine thumped against your skull as you read and reread and reread the papers in front of you.

How on Earth were you going to craft a bomb? The whole project felt like a bite that was just too big to chew. You weren’t Oppenheimer.

“Hiya,” Remus cooed as soon as the front door opened on the evening of the full moon, smiling as he saw the back of your head tipped down over your makeshift desk by the fireplace, fingers on your temples. “Alright?”

You lifted your head, glancing over your shoulder to see him toeing off his shoes. “Sure,” you said, looking back at the papers. “How’s it going with you?”

Remus hummed in response, bringing a chair over to sit next to you. “Oh, you know,” he said, peeking over your shoulder with a small, lopsided smile. He smelled like whiskey, sour and sweet. “‘M just dandy.”

You checked your watch, looking at the low sun outside of the window. “Should probably make your potion,” you mumbled, your head in your hands again.

“‘S alright. I’ve got an hour,” he said absently, narrowing his eyes at the paper. “Have anything figured out yet?”

You dropped your hands from your shaking head, pushing yourself away from the desk. “I’m essentially trying to make mustard gas.” You got up, stretching out. “Pretty hard when it needs to be done now.”

“Who gave you that timeline?” Remus hummed, following you into the kitchen.

“Who do you think?” You asked, deadpan.

Remus snorted quietly. “You don’t like him, do you?”

You shot him a look. “Does anyone?”

“He’s not all bad,” he said, sitting at the table near the stove. “Just very… serious. Thinks he’s saving people, but in a way, he kind of is.” You shook your head, feeling his eyes on you as you filled the cauldron. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” You asked, trying desperately to ignore the honeyed way he was looking at you from his seat, your heart beginning to feel sticky from it.

Remus shrugged, sitting straighter. “Making me the potion every day… Being here.”

You glanced at him, catching him confidently staring before turning your back on him as you reached for ingredients, hoping to hide your flushed cheeks. “Would you be alone otherwise?”

“I haven’t been alone for a transformation since I was fourteen,” he said quietly, finally averting his eyes as you busied yourself with the cauldron.

“Oh?” You asked, your turn to stare at the side of his head now. “Do you go to a pack, or-”

Remus smiled to himself, shaking his head. “James, Sirius, and Peter are animagi.”

“And they’d join you?” You asked, looking back at the boiling pot. “Rather brave-”

“Well, outside of the cage, yeah,” he mumbled, and you could feel his eyes on the side of your face again as your eyebrows quirked up in thought. “You’re not allowed downstairs tonight,” he said seriously.

You added the wolfsbane, catching his stern stare. “I’ve had my fair share of being face to face with a wolf before-”

“No,” he cut you off, his gaze hardening. “You’re not coming downstairs, alright? I’ll be fine.”

“Remus-”

“Promise me that you’ll stay upstairs.” His hand was on yours suddenly, squeezing, his eyes pleading.

You looked at your hands, heat burning in your ears. “I’ll stay upstairs,” you mumbled, your response making him squeeze your hand harder.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, dropping your hand.

A lull fell over the two of you as you waited for the potion to finish, checking your watch again. Moonrise was in half an hour, and he had to be downstairs before then. The potion should finish in time, but he should’ve drank it an hour ago for him to be asleep in time of his transition. You added an extra drop of dittany and a bit of wormwood, stirring it again in hopes that it would be fine.

The potion plumed blue smoke, and you strained it, handing him the mug. “Bottoms up.”

He drank it, his nose hardly scrunching before he checked his watch, standing. “Lock the door behind me?”

You nodded reluctantly, tailing him to the basement door. He started his descent to the cage in the cold, brick basement.

“Good luck,” you said from the top of the stairs.

He glanced over his shoulder, smiling tightly. “Sleep well, Bane.”

Locking the basement door was hard, almost as hard as hearing Remus lock himself in the cage, the keys hitting the bottom step with a dull thud as he threw them from the cage.

You hoped the potion would kick in at the right time, rendering the wolf tired enough to just fall asleep before any damage could be done.

You hurried to the bedroom, dragging your blanket and pillow into the living room and trading it for Remus’ things. He’d have no choice but to sleep in the bedroom.

You sat on the couch, your bed for the next week, waiting.

Waiting for a noise.

A feeling.

Anything.

A low howl started from the basement, filling the house. Your heart sank. It didn’t kick in in time.

Another howl, this time, it sounded like a wail, rang through, followed by another, and another.

Was he crying? The wolf was crying.

You left Remus to suffer alone in a basement for the first time in five years.

You stood, pacing, as the cries turned to growls. You grabbed the keys and went to the basement door, standing in front of it. He made you promise to stay upstairs.

You couldn’t break that promise, even if he was alone.

You didn’t dare cross him twice.

Your eyes filled with tears as something crashed against the steps, another howl coming from the basement. Sinking against the door, you closed your eyes, your face in your hands.

If you couldn’t even get a potion that you’ve been making for years right for someone who hated what they were, why would you think you could try to help a whole group of ferals who enjoyed it?

Fuck.

taglist: @ttulipwritezz @jasontoddsmentaldisorders @acciotwinz @lilianelena39 @prongsprincessworld @hawkins-2000 @ginseng-green-tea

#remus lupin #part two #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x american!fem!reader #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fic

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the-whispers-of-death · 2 months

Text

The Middle: The Creation of Simon "Ghost" Riley

The Beginning, Part 1 of The Middle, Part 2 of The Middle, Part 3 of The Middle CW: Allusions to Simon "Ghost" Riley's backstory but nothing is written graphically. The most yearny/romantic part is really when he's at his family's graves, so feel free to skip down to it if need be.

When Life, your partner in balancing out the universe, told you after aeons together in the realm where only you two resided that he was going to take on a mortal form and live among the mortals, you were confused. You didn't understand why he wanted to live among the mortals, but you supposed that his love of creation and what he had created drove him to this decision and as Death, you were never going to understand it.

So you watched with a heavy heart that you concealed as he sent his soul down into a fetus that was still developing in its mother's womb, having not yet developed into a soul which was why his could reside in the developing form. You watched as that fetus grew into a baby, into Life's new form.

He was born as Simon Riley, the firstborn of what would be two sons.

As years went by, you watched every horrid moment of Simon's childhood, unable to interfere and Simon refused to let the mortal form go. Every time you stood in the shadows and he was able to speak, he told you that suffering was something every mortal experienced, the form of suffering just changed from mortal to mortal.

So you watched, and watched. It was all you could do, every time Mr. Riley was a horrible person to his wife and sons, you could not kill him. You were only meant to guide the souls of the dead to the realms of the dead and ensure they stayed there.

Life—Simon—was the one who could kill beings, mortal or immortal, but even then, he couldn't kill willy nilly. It had to be timed most of the time, so for every soul that died, a new one was created. He saw who could die when and where without unbalancing the universe, and he made sure to tell you every time you felt like killing his father that the time wasn't right.

More years passed by, Simon eventually feeling a calling to the military and enlisting when he was in his twenties. He found that being in the military helped immensely with his duties as Life, able to protect those who weren't yet to die and also able to send the fatal blow to those that were destined to die at that moment. Everything seemed fine and well.

Until Roba.

Your heart hurt to see Simon's mortal form be broken and reset in the most painful ways, ways that would surely kill someone who wasn't actually a powerful being. You were fortunate—yet also unfortunate—that you didn't have to be there all the time while Simon was with Roba.

You were pulled away every so often to guide souls that died to their afterlives, four of them unfortunately being Simon's mother, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew. Since you knew he held sentiments for all of them, you took even extra care with their souls.

Simon eventually escaped Roba's clutches, though with it guaranteeing him to be seen as legally dead, and after he hunted down everyone in the organization, he finally found out what happened to his family.

He was standing in front of their graves, bitter and a shell of the mortal man everyone knew. But he was still Life, you could still feel the bright power signature that only you and the celestial beings could detect.

"You'll stay with me, won't you?" Simon asked when he felt your own power signature in the shadows, his voice—for a lack of a better word—sounded lifeless. His brown eyes stared blankly at the graves, he probably wouldn't be okay for a while.

You shifted on your feet until the mortal form you had taken on for the day could be seen from the shadows just a little bit. You nodded and said, "We've spent aeons together, Life. I'm here with you for the rest of time." You paused. "I'm only sorry I couldn't stop what was happening."

Simon would've laughed or smiled if he had the energy to do so because you were always so endearing to him. "Don't be sorry. It was meant to happen."

Another thing that Simon could see besides who was meant to die and when, was that he could see what events could be changed and what events not even him could interfere with.

"Does this mean you're keeping this mortal form?" You asked, frowning at the thought.

Didn't he already see enough to lose his sense of love for creation and life? How much more suffering could he take? How much more suffering could you take to see him in?

It was selfish, you knew it. But your soul yearned for him. It was why you spent most of your time watching him, you needed his presence, needed to feel his power signature settling besides yours. Every time you were pulled away to guide dead souls, you ached to return to him.

You longed for the days when you two would enjoy being in your home realm together, just the two of you.

"Death," he said, pulling you away from your thoughts. He turned his head to the side to lock eyes with you. "Know that I relish being in your presence too, but I cannot abandon this life. It's not Simon "Ghost" Riley's time yet, which is why I want you to still be by my side. With you by my side as always, I can see a future in which I can heal."

You nodded, understanding him. There was no doubt in your mind that you'd stay with him even if it meant being in the shadows for most of the days. You couldn't fathom abandoning him.

Your mind processed what he said. "Ghost?" You had never heard him being referred to such, but it seemed to be something the military gave him.

Ghost nodded. "It's my callsign, and I quite like it. Simon Riley is dead in the eyes of the law. Ghost... Ghost is all that's currently left."

"I see... Ghost," you replied, getting used to calling him "Ghost". You called him by whatever name he preferred.

"Perhaps, while you watch me from the shadows, you can think upon fully joining me in the mortal realm. You could finally have a constant mortal form."

"Don't get any ideas, Ghost."

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 9 months

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Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 7: Father and Daughter (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 7: Father and Daughter

A hunt, a reunion, and a conflict. A normal day in Westeros then.

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

Warnings: Nothing of note, save for parental trauma and a notable lack of Daemon shenanigans.

Word Count: 5.8k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: OH MY GOD IM ALIVE???? Yeah, it appears I am 😭 I'm so sorry about the long wait on this chapter, the past two weeks have been wild for me ever since I came back from my vacation. 1. My dad crashed his car? 2. I had like five projects due during the past two weeks and I had to write in a report and evaluation about my project groupmate who essentially did nothing 😐 if I could beat someone's ass without getting suspended, istg... 3. I've been suffering from a lot of chest pains recently, which kinda stopped me from doing my thing for a while 4. I had insane writers block for like a week and it was horrid 😖 but luckily, I'm back now, and hopefully updating more often! And also I've learnt that my classmate is following me on tumblr, I am a little mortified, but hello regardless. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! �� no Daemon cameo unfortunately, but he'll be back next chapter, and messier than ever.

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

109 years after Aegon's Conquest

The doors to the room burst open, and you stepped in, a little out of breath. Lord Hobert Hightower and the Hand, who were standing closest to the doorway, were engrossed deep in conversation when you walked in, and you heard something along the lines of “It’s only a matter of time before Viserys names him heir.” You try not to frown at that, nodding politely to them before heading over to the crowd gathered over at the other side of the room, cooing at the heir in question: little Aegon, who was celebrating his second nameday.

“Ah, Y/N!” Viserys exclaimed happily, gesturing for you to come and stand between him and Alicent, whose face was radiant with happiness. Viserys signalled for the wet nurse to step forward, and before you knew it, little Aegon was in your arms, babbling in that toddler frenzy of his. The assemblage of lords and ladies stepped closer to you, much to your discomfort, as you forced a cheerful smile and bounced Aegon up and down in your arms, which made him squeal with delight. “I fear that Aegon might come to see you as his mother sooner or late, Y/N, given how much he adores you.” Viserys claimed. You flush at his words, and Alicent soon steps in, smiling, “Tis true. Aegon always perks up when he’s in your arms.” You were sure you would melt into a puddle if you were subject to any more of their compliments. “You flatter me, Your Graces.”

In the periphery of your vision, you saw Ser Tyland Lannister attempt to get Viserys’ attention, and you handed back a now fussing Aegon to his nursemaid. Alicent shuffled over to the feast table, and she smiled brightly as you approached. Placing a hand on her swollen belly, your heart fluttered with delight when you felt a slight kick. Though the horrors of childbirth still plagued your mind, being there for Alicent’s relatively smooth birth with Aegon had made your fears lessen a little.

“How’s the babe?” you ask. “Only active when you’re here, it seems,” Alicent laughed. “They never seem to kick for anyone else other than you. I think they will adore you as much as Aegon does.” You chuckle, stroking Alicent’s belly gently. “What if the kicking is a sign that the babe will dislike me?” Alicent patted your hand, “Definitely not. I have no doubt in my mind that you will be dear to the babe.” she said with conviction. You blush at her words, “You flatter me, Your Grace.”

“Can someone tell me where in the Seven Hells Rhaenyra might be?” Viserys’ frustrated bellow drew you and Alicent out of your tender moment. Alicent’s face twisted with worry, and you were sure your face was a mirror image of hers. “You came in later than the rest of us. Did you see Rhaenyra anywhere?” You shake your head glumly, “She wasn’t in her chambers, or her apartments.” Alicent sighed in exasperation, “Viserys has questioned nearly every courtier in the room, and not a single one of them has a clue. Where might she be?” You chewed your lip, thinking back to the snippet of conversation you had overheard between the Hand and Lord Hobert. “She’s upset right now. The two of you were…” You refrained from finishing the sentence when you saw Alicent wince. “Do you have any inkling on where she might go to cool off?” “I don’t belie-” A look of realisation dawned in Alicent’s eyes. “You know somewhere?” You ask her urgently. Alicent nodded, “I’ll go find her. You should stay and satiate yourself before the journey.” “Are you sure?” You ask her, concerned. Alicent squeezed your hand gently. “Don’t worry about me. I think I can get Rhaenyra to see reason.”

You glance pensively at Alicent’s retreating figure. Sighing, you approached the refreshments table, smiling gratefully as a servant handed you a plate with some slices of roast pork. You heard your name being called, and turned around to find Viserys. “Your Grace-” you moved to curtsy, but Viserys stopped you, “I told you, no need for such stuffy courtesies when you are with me.” You smiled wryly, “I thought it wouldn’t apply in a room full of courtiers.” Viserys waved away your words, “You are my family, Y/N. There are no such constraints within your own kin.” You smile sadly at the word ‘family’. It was a little sad to say, but you definitely did feel more of a kinship with the current members of House Targaryen over those of your own house.

“Speaking of kin,” Viserys’ voice turned serious. “I am in need of a favour from you, Y/N.” You snapped to attention. “Whatever you need, Viserys.” He sighed, looking mournful and irritated at the same time. “It has been nigh three years since I have wedded Alicent. Time after time, I have tried to approach Rhaenyra, but she shuns me away every single time. The rare chances she actually sits down and listens, she sulks like a child and only provides me with short responses.” Viserys sighed again, whatever sadness he had turning into disappointment and exasperation. “This is not the way the heir to the Iron Throne should behave.” He looked at you beseechingly, “I implore you, Y/N. I believe what Rhaenyra needs is for a motherly figure to talk to her, and persuade her to abandon such foolish antics. I fear Alicent would not be able to serve such a role, since Rhaenyra’s ire is directed at the both of us. But you,” You swallowed nervously. “I’ve seen how close Rhaenyra kept you after Aemma’s death. For months, apart from Alicent, you were her closest confidant. I know naught of what has transpired between the two of you, but I believe you to be the best person for this tiresome task. Will you do methis favour?”

Your expression was resigned, but you forced out a smile nonetheless. “But of course. I will do my best, Viserys.” He closed his eyes in relief, clapping you on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you, Y/N. Thank you.” You gave a tentative smile back, painfully aware of the numerous eyes glued to the both of you. What you failed to notice, however, were the heavy gazes of Otto and Hobert Hightower on you.

An awkward silence weighed upon the royal wheelhouse as it made its way to the Kingswood. You glance uncomfortably between Viserys, Alicent, and Rhaenyra, watching with some pity as Viserys attempted to make conversation with his irascible and sullen daughter. A miniature dragon thrust in your face soon drew your attention however, and you looked down to frown admonishingly at little Aegon, who blinked his wide violet eyes at you innocently. The little devil, you were sure he was trying to garner your attention on purpose. Earlier, he had been weeping inconsolably, much to the nursemaid’s and Alicent’s distress. But when you had taken him into your arms, he had ceased his tears immediately and gave you a cherubic smile, which made Alicent give you a knowing smile and Rhaenyra to look at the both of you in disdain. The expression of disdain had yet to depart from Rhaenyra, as you played patiently with Aegon, flying his dragon miniature around him and smiling as the toddler spun his head around to follow the motions of the dragon with rapt fascination.

The tension in the wheelhouse was not lightening in the slightest bit, as Viserys began talking about Rhaenyra giving him grandchildren, of all things. You had to stop yourself from groaning in exasperation. If Viserys truly wanted to reconnect with Rhaenyra again, why was he digging himself into an even bigger hole? He should know that after Aemma, Rhaenyra would be disinclined to entertain notions of childbirth. You wanted to put your head in your hands, but Aegon poked you in the cheek.

“No one’s here for me!” Rhaenyra’s angry outburst halted all activity in the wheelhouse, including Aegon’s. You froze, looking up at Rhaenyra, but her bitter gaze was focused solely on her father. All of you endured the rest of the ride in silence.

The rocking of the wheelhouse soon came to an end. You remained seated as Viserys and Alicent stepped out to the raucous cheers of the crowd, allowing Aegon’s nursemaid to take him from your arms. You remembered Viserys’ plea, and took in Rhaenyra’s wistful expression. “Hail, hail! Aegon the Conqueror babe, Second of His Name!” You grimace when you hear the tasteless remark.

Rhaenyra’s fists were clenched at her sides, and her eyes were shut. With frustration, or with sadness, she didn’t know. Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand taking her fisted hand and unclenching it. She didn’t need to open her eyes to see who it was. “I don’t need your pity.” Rhaenyra tried to sound snappy, but her voice was hoarse. You didn’t answer, instead intertwining your fingers with Rhaenyra. She reluctantly opened her eyes, only to see you directing a hostile glare to the outside commotion, as more and more voices heralded Aegon as the Second of His Name. Rhaenyra couldn’t help but smile at that, letting some of the tension seep out of her muscles.

At least there was someone in her dark and lonely corner, even if that someone’s trustworthiness had yet to be ascertained.

You were sitting next to Alicent, as she held court with the various noble ladies who had attended the hunt. You listened, silently sipping from your goblet as they conversed about the ongoing war in the Stepstones. You watched as Larys Strong and Rhaenyra soon joined in the conversation, though a slight frown of distaste was soon visible on your face, when Lady Lannister and Lady Redwyne in particular, began picking on Rhaenyra. You had to hide a smirk when Rhaenyra made a well-directed jab at Lady Redwyne, and the smirk only widened when you saw her pig-faced dog gobble greedily at the cake on her plate. How fitting.

“You know, Lady Y/N.” Your head snapped up as Lady Redwyne addressed you. She had a displeased look on her face: clearly she hadn’t missed your smirk at her expense. “I was…pleasantly surprised to hear Her Grace appointed you as her chief lady-in-waiting.” Your eyes narrowed, your dormant prickly nature coming to life once more. “It was a great honour, Lady Joselyn. One that I am greatly grateful to Her Grace for.”

Lady Redwyne gave you a smile, that you knew from all your years of court politics, was filled with ill intent. “I must say, if you were out in the battlefield fighting on the Stepstones, the war would be won by now.” You felt Alicent stiffen next to you, and you instinctively reached out to put your hand on hers. “What are you insinuating, Lady Redwyne?” Alicent’s tone was sharper than usual. Lady Redwyne attempted to school her features back to deference, but her lips were curved upwards. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I was not attempting to insinuate anything. It was a compliment to Lady Y/N.” You levelled a fierce glare at her, but she seemed unaffected, looking at you straight in the eye. “It is a well known fact that she and Prince Daemon had tempers that rivalled each other. With such willfulness, she would make a formidable opponent on the battlefield, would she not?”

You were about to deliver an equally cutting and backhanded response, but you were surprised when you heard Rhaenyra speak up once more, “Yes, Lady Redwyne. But as luck would have it, she is the Queen’s lady-in-waiting now.” Rhaenyra’s tone was acidic. “And I am certain that she will carry out her duties with skill and grace. The Queen will not be able to find someone as capable as her.”

The ladies were stunned that Rhaenyra had spoken up for you, none more so than you and Alicent. “The princess is right. Lady Y/N has been a dutiful lady-in-waiting and companion. The Seven have truly blessed me with her.” Your eyes water with gratitude, as Lady Redwyne and the other ladies fall silent after both the princess and the queen’s swift defence of you.

So this was what kinship felt like.

Night had fallen, and the air was ablaze with the smell of smoke. You had sat faithfully by Alicent all day, as she entertained lords and ladies alike. You had not seen Rhaenyra in quite some time though, and you worry about where she could have wandered off to. Your anxiety only increased tenfold when you saw Viserys’ goblet never straying from his hand, and he had been lifting it to his lips moreso after his conversations with the Hand, Jason Lannister, and Lyonel Strong, in particular. Alicent was clearly on edge as well, her brown eyes watchful as she witnessed her husband lose himself in his cups. When Viserys abruptly left the tent after a brief, yet intense conversation with Lyonel Strong, Alicent got up to go after him, but you gently pushed her back down to her seat, giving her a reassuring look. She should not need to see her husband in such a misbegotten state, while in her pregnancy, you thought to yourself, as you wrapped your shawl around you, shivering in the cold night air.

You eventually found Viserys by the huge bonfire, downing yet another goblet of wine, while being guarded by two Kingsguard. They nodded at you as you passed. You went straight to Viserys, taking the cup whilst he was distracted. “I think that’s enough for you tonight, Viserys.” Your voice was soft, yet firm. He gave you an enervated smile. “The night is cold, you shouldn’t be out here.” You hand the goblet over to a Kingsguard. “Who will look after you, then? And make sure you do not drink yourself into a stupor?” Viserys laughed heartily, before he coughed. You reach for him, concerned. He stared into the flames, looking like he wanted to step into them himself. “Y/N.” “Hmm?” Viserys took a deep breath, trying to control the slurring in his voice. “What do you think is the foundation of House Targaryen’s strength?”

You tilt your head to the side questioningly, “That is a trick question, right? Of course, the answer is House Targaryen’s dragons.” Viserys smiled ruefully, turning over to face you. You were taken aback by the blazing intensity, perhaps even madness in his eyes. “You’re wrong, Y/N. It began with a dream.” He turned back to face the fire. “When Daenys the Dreamer had the dream that prophesied the end of the Valyrian Freehold, that dream saved House Targaryen. While all the other dragonlords were destroyed, it was only us who survived.” “I know of that tale. Your grandsire told us that tale when we were younger.”

Viserys didn’t seem to hear you, however, his bleak gaze still on the fire. “In my line, many had been dragonriders. Very few among us have been dreamers. What is the power of dragons, next to the power of prophecy?” You shivered, and not because of the cold. Yet you continue listening. “When Rhaenyra was a child, I saw it in a dream. As vivid as these flames, I saw it. A male babe, born to me, wearing the Conqueror’s crown. And I so wanted it to be true, to be a dreamer myself. I sought that vision again, night after night…but it never came again. I poured all my thought and will into it. And my obsession killed Aemma.” You looked away at that, your heart wrenched with grief. “I thought Rhaenyra was the way out of my abyss of grief and regret. That naming her heir would set things right.”

“Are you saying you regret naming Rhaenyra heir then?” Viserys looked grieved. “Oftentimes, yes…I have. I worried that I had named Rhaenyra out of anger towards Daemon, not out of love, or for the good of the realm.” He moved to grip your shoulders, tears in his eyes. “Y/N, I never imagined that I would remarry. That I would have a son. What if…what if I was wrong all along?”

You stared into his despair-filled eyes. “I cannot tell you if you’re wrong, Viserys. There are only two paths ahead of you now, and as King, you must be prepared to take one, and soon.” Viserys chuckles, drooping his head. “What if I’m not sure what path I should take?” Your voice was quiet. “Then the realm will descend into chaos.”

The both of you were silent, staring at each other in the firelight. While you couldn’t say that you approved of Viserys’ decisions in the past three years, after all this, he was your friend, and he was just a mere mortal, plagued by regrets, grief, and hesitation. Just like you, and everyone else. Even kings were not infallible to weakness, you surmised. And in that moment, there was a mutual understanding and grievance shared between the both of you: the burden of choice.

The morrow brought about clear skies and sun, much to the delight of the lords partaking in the hunt. It did not alleviate your worries however, as Rhaenyra still had not returned to the encampment. You found yourself milling about today, much too tired to suffer the thinly veiled jabs the fellow noblewomen were directing at you about your infamous temper.

You were dressed in a simpler riding outfit today, to mingle around with the various smallfolk and merchants that had set up stalls in the encampment, hoping eagerly to attract some lord’s attention and earn a few gold dragons. You beamed as you sampled a rather delicious roast pork skewer, giving the stall owner - a rather plump woman - two golden dragons, much to her glee. You strode back to the main tent, feeling satisfied, when you suddenly heard the sound of hooves. You turned your head as a palomino horse skidded to a halt, and a familiar man, with more grey hairs than he had the last time you saw him, dismount from the horse and take off his riding gloves. His eyes light up as soon as he catches sight of you, and without giving you a window to escape, he strode towards you. You chew your lip in dread as he approached.

“Father.”

“Y/N.” He beams at you, his eyes crinkled at the corners. You smile awkwardly at him, fidgeting with your fingers. His smile falters a little when he notices your hesitation. “I haven’t seen you in years, daughter. Does this momentous occasion not warrant a hug?” You inwardly sigh, and reach out to embrace your father. Your father grins at you as you pull away after an awkward pause. “You have grown, daughter. You look beautiful.” “You flatter me, Father.” “Come, walk with me. We have much to talk about.” You swallowed, but followed as he set out for the forested edge of the campground.

The both of you strode in silence for a while, before you ventured to break the silence. “The King didn’t mention you would be joining us for the hunt, Father. Why the sudden change of heart?” He sighed. “Can an old man not choose to be in nature once in a while?” “Of course you can, father. I was just concerned: you are no longer in the pink of health, and riding all the way from Highgarden to the Kingswood is a gruelling journey.” Your father waved his hand dismissively. “Twas nothing. I might be getting on in my years, but I recently found a new source of reinvigoration.”

“Oh?” you cocked your head curiously. You sincerely hoped the new source of reinvigoration was not a new bid for your hand. Your father smiled, “I recently remarried to Lady Clarice of House Fossoway.” Seeing your confused look, he hurried to clarify. “Of Cider Hall.” Surprise creased your features. “But…wasn’t that Mother’s maiden house? Lady Clarice was her cousin, was she not?” Your father’s smile was beginning to look strained. “Does it matter, daughter? What matters is that I am happy with her, is it not? And I am certain she will give me strong sons soon.” You regard him with a degree of caution, noting the shift in his voice. In your years of dealing with court politics, you could instinctively tell when a situation was about to go from bad to worse. “I did not know you had any plans on remarrying after Mother’s death.”

“And whose fault is that, daughter?” Your father’s tone turned chiding. “I know you’ve been ignoring all the ravens I’ve sent to you over the past few years. Specifically, those with letters attached from me pleading for you to just find yourself a match at court or select one of the eligible lords in the lists I sent you.” You blushed, looking sheepish. Matthos sighed. “Daughter, you are no longer young. It is past time you are wed. I only want what’s best for you.”

“But-” you blurted out, “What if I don’t think getting married is what’s best for me, Father?” Your father looked askance at that. “What else could a young lady such as yourself desire other than marriage?” You bit your lip, “Father, the truth is…I do not think I have a desire to wed now…or ever.” You were beginning to get anxious as your father’s face lost some of his paternal tenderness. “Five years. I had hoped that our time apart had given you some time to reflect on your…misconceptions.” He gripped your shoulders, an intense blaze in his eyes as your heart began to thud with dread. “The matter of marriage is not one that you can dismiss so easily anymore, Y/N. It entails the survival and future of House Tyrell. You must do your duty and wed a respectable lord, for the sake of our house.” Though you had heard those words aplenty, today, it was like something uninhibited had seized control of you, as you burst out. “Why should I care about doing my duty to House Tyrell?” you snapped. “I have made it clear that it is not my intention to ever take a husband, now and in the foreseeable future. You claim this is all done for my own happiness. So why can’t you just respect my wishes?”

“Because you are not just some poxy peasant who can gallivant about as you please. You are my daughter!” You were shocked when your father suddenly raised his voice. Trepidation had dimmed your previous righteousness. He tightens his grip on your shoulders, his expression filled with an anger you had never glimpsed before. This…this was not the father you remember. The father you knew had never once raised his voice at you, always treating you with patience as his only child. Though he was prone to bouts of frustrated pleading when you did not acquiesce to his wishes to get married, he had never once shouted at you like that. Or even gripped your shoulders with such forcefulness you feared he might strike you. “You are just as useless as your late mother.” You were stunned, your eyes searing with hot tears. “Do not insult Mother like that. She was the most wonderful woman-” “Wonderful, you say?” your father snorted. “If she were so wonderful, then she would have provided me with a strong and healthy son to succeed me! Instead, she left me with a daughter who is ungrateful and strangely determined to remain a spinster all her life.” he spat out the words with such vitriol that you were taken aback. “If she were so wonderful,” your father continued with his rant. “Then would House Tyrell be in imminent danger of collapsing, all because the only heirs I have are your incompetent, doltish cousins who will run the legacy our ancestors and I have built to the ground?” He moved to clasp your hand tightly in his, looking desperate and angry all at once. “Daughter, your father is imploring you. You must get wed, and provide me with a grandson. You cannot let House Tyrell go to ruin.” You stare at him, feeling beleaguered. “Do my wishes mean nothing to you?” “This is because your wishes are obscenely unreasonable, Y/N.” your father snaps. “It is practically unheard of for a woman of your status to not wed.” “It is not!” you insisted, “I am the chief lady-in-waiting to the Queen now, I have duties I must perform. And there have been histories of lords whose daughters were largely spinsters. Moreover, you have remarried.” Your voice became desperate as you tried to make your father see reason. “Lady Clarice is young, she will give you many sons in due time. Suitable heirs to Highgarden. I do not understand why you are putting all this pressure on me.” You took a deep breath, preparing to make your final stand. “I want to enjoy the rest of my youth, Father. Not to sit in a castle, entrapped in a loveless marriage and pumping out potential heirs for my husband and for you. I want to live my life, free of constraints.” You looked at him, unshed tears in your eyes. “Please, father. This is the one thing I have ever asked of you, and that is to respect my wishes.”

Matthos was silent for a long while, and you held hope, briefly, that you might have gotten through to him with your pleading. “Foolish, insolent girl!” Your hopes were dashed as your father flung off your hand, shouting at you. “How can you be so selfish? To not take responsibility in ensuring the continuation of our house’s line?” “That is your responsibility, not mine!” you shouted back. Seeing that pleas would not get to your father now, you resorted to fighting fire with fire instead. “Had you really cared about continuing our house’s bloodline, you would’ve remarried years ago!” You could see how your shouts were drawing the attention of some courtiers, given how close the both of you were to the camp for royals. You heard the faint sound of hooves behind you, but you ignored them, too engrossed in your argument with your father. “Producing heirs is a lord’s responsibility. So if you are accusing me of not doing my duty, you should first be reprimanding yourself.”

Your father’s face grew red. “You little brat! How dare you say these things about your father!” “I spoke only the truth,” you shot back. He raised his hand, and for a moment you were afraid he was going to slap you for your outburst. Instead, he went to grip your shoulders again, “For years, I have raised you, clothed you in the finest silks, fed you, and put up with your ridiculous whims and wants! I’ve been patient, I’ve been loving and understanding when you rejected all the marriage offers you received. I’ve pleaded, and even given you the time and freedom to find a more suitable match at court. Yet you cannot even perform your duty as my daughter. No longer.” Your heart stuttered a little. “What do you mean?” Your father gave you a cold look. “I’m saying, if you do not get married by the end of the year, you are no longer my daughter.” Your eyes widen with horror. “I will effectively disown and disinherit you from House Tyrell, and if I sire any children by Lady Clarice, they shall not support you either.”

Your voice was tremulous, “Father, you…you cannot be serious. Do not let your anger cloud your judgement.” Matthos Tyrell looked at his daughter, his face one of disgust. “You wanted to enjoy your youth without constraints. And since you seem to enjoy being lady-in-waiting to the Queen so much, I’m only granting you what you wished for, am I not?”

You stepped back, feeling winded by your father’s words. However, you nearly jumped when you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. “Ah, Y/N!” You were not sure whether you felt more mortified or relieved for Viserys’ timely presence. “Your Grace!” Immediately, your father’s distaste gave way to deference, as he straightened his posture and bowed before the King. You inclined your head respectfully, wondering if Viserys had overheard your conversation. “Forgive me for interrupting your conversation.” Oh, he definitely overheard.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Your Grace. I am delighted to be in your presence.” Your father gushed on profusely, as Viserys stepped toward him. You hung your head, still abashed by your father’s threats, when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder once more. Alicent smiled at you understandingly, and you grimaced when you realised she had also overheard the unpleasant exchange. Still, you shot her a grateful look for her show of support.

“I must offer you my sincerest felicitations for Prince Aegon’s second nameday, Your Grace.” Viserys laughed, “Your felicitations are greatly appreciated, Lord Matthos. I must extend you mine as well, for your recent remarriage. I see it is treating you well.” Your father beamed, “You are too kind, Your Grace. And indeed, my lady wife pleases me so. Now, the only thing that would make me the happiest man in the realm would be my daughter finally settling down with a respectable match.” You stiffened at that, something Alicent took notice of, and she offered you a sympathetic look. Viserys chuckled, “That you and I can both agree on, Lord Matthos. There is nothing more I desire right now than seeing Rhaenyra being wed to a deserving man who will treat her right.”

“Oh, I am sure Her Grace will have her pick of men. She is ‘The Realm’s Delight’, after all. Any man who weds her will be a lucky one.” Your father’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone, as he glanced at you. “Moreover, Her Grace is young, comely, and lovely to behold.” Matthos sighed, shaking his head as he chuckled, “Mine own daughter is not in possess of such qualities, I’m afraid. She is getting on with her years, and though I love her deeply, as her father, I must admit she has quite a temper on her. She's not quite the attractice match, which gives me a headache,” Matthos jested with the King, causing you to wince and look away. Alicent looked disconcerted at your father’s tasteless jesting, tightening her hold on your shoulder. However, the both of you did not notice the flare of annoyance behind Viserys’ eyes, so his next words surprised the both of you.

“Lady Y/N has been nothing but a delight to have at court, Lord Matthos. In spite of her age, I’m sure she has no shortage of suitors.” Viserys’ voice was amiable, polite, yet it carried an undertone of firmness and reprimand such that Matthos looked a little stunned, worried that he had overstepped. You looked back to the pair, your eyes wide with disbelief. “And should Y/N ever find herself unwilling to marry, the Red Keep will always welcome her. She is like family to me, after all.” Your father fell silent, and you locked eyes with Viserys, looking lost, yet appreciative all the same. Viserys gave you a reassuring smile, and you could see the sincerity behind his intent. Your eyes prickled with touched tears, but the moment was interrupted when you heard shouts across the campground, startling your party. You turned around, only to behold the sight of Rhaenyra, stained head to toe with dried blood, a commanding aura in her swagger as her sworn shield, Ser Criston, trailed behind her, along with two servants carrying a dead boar. You lock eyes with her momentarily, and she gives a small nod of acknowledgement to you, although her eyes turned cold when they looked upon her father. You heard Viserys sigh, and you saw how Viserys looked both annoyed and relieved for Rhaenyra’s safety, while your father just looked bewildered, perhaps even a little scared. Despite yourself, you smiled a little at the scene.

Alicent and you were chatting in her chambers, laughing in hushed tones as you rocked Aegon to sleep in your arms, when the Hand entered the room, requesting to speak with Alicent. You handed a sleepy Aegon to his nursemaid, before curtsying and exiting the room, painfully aware of the Hand’s weighty gaze upon you as you did.

Alicent knew that her father had not visited her out of a gesture of goodwill, and as she listened to his rather maddening reasoning that Alicent should attempt to make her husband see reason and name Aegon heir, she only stayed silent. There was no point in countering back anyway - the Hand always seemed to have a dozen other reasons to quell her opposition. She felt uncomfortable, for speaking of this was treason, and the babe shifted in her belly, causing her to sigh.

Otto observed his daughter, noting with mild exasperation that she wasn’t paying heed to anything he was saying. So, he decided to change the subject. “About your lady-in-waiting…�� he began. Alicent’s head snapped up, “What do you wish to discuss of Y/N?” Otto let a smile play over his lips: it was quite evident his daughter cared for the Tyrell lady, and from his further observations over the past three years, treated her akin to a maternal figure. Which might make it easier for her to accept what he proposed next. “I overheard a rather…interesting conversation she had, with Lord Matthos today.” Alicent showed no visible reaction, but she stared at her father, feeling an all-too-familiar feeling of dread settle in her gut. “I think half the campground overheard their argument. What of it?”

Otto hummed softly, “It seems her father is worrying about her marriage. Which is a reasonable worry - she is on the cusp of her twenty fifth nameday, is she not?” Alicent nodded slowly, eyeing her father with caution. She knew him all too well, how he was tapping his fingers on the armrests of his chair - he was scheming. She recalled how upset you were when you spoke with your father, citing your dreams to enjoy your youth and be freed of the constraints of marriage. In later years, she had come to both see you as a cherished companion and a parental figure of sorts, and she cared for you, deeply so. You were her only source of comfort in the Red Keep, one who did not expect or demand anything of her, someone she felt she could truly be open with. She glanced fearfully at her father.

She had to put an end to this. She must save you from suffering the same fate she did.

“Father…you are not planning on taking a new wife, are you?” Alicent fidgeted with her fingers nervously, her eyes fixed on Otto. He was quiet for a long while, and in response to her question, he only stood up and went over to his daughter, placing a hand on her swollen belly. His cryptic answer disturbed Alicent. “You worry too much over matters that do not need worrying about, daughter. Your concern now, should be Aegon. Raise him well, and raise him strong. He shall be an important man one day.”

Come the morrow, the Godswood was completely devoid of any life. Which proved to be a boon to you, who was seeking some reprieve from the busy atmosphere of the Red Keep and the somewhat maddening task of having to feed Aegon - due to his tendency of smooshing the food in the face of whomever had the misfortune of feeding him, most commonly you.

You sat on the stone bench, staring despondently at the Godswood tree. While you were never particularly religious, either to the Seven or to the Old Gods, the happenings of the hunt have driven you to pray with increasing fervency these days. What you prayed for, you did not know. Was it for the hope that your father’s heart might soften and he might be persuaded to leave you be for the rest of your life? You scoffed to yourself, knowing how improbable it was. Fiddling with the pendant - Aemma’s pendant, you sighed, tilting your head downwards to the ground.

You were startled when you heard movement next to you, of another soul taking a seat next to you on the bench, her posture ramrod straight, and her expression blank. Rhaenyra’s linen sleeves fluttered slightly in the breeze.

“I suppose neither of us are in the best of spirits,” Rhaenyra’s voice was stilted, like she was reluctant to break the silence first. You lifted your head upright, looking at her with a tentative smile, “No, I suppose we aren’t.” An awkward silence highlighted the chasm between the two of you. You wondered, had this truly been the girl of fourteen who confided in you about everything? Now, it seems there is a stark contrast to the Rhaenyra you once knew to the Rhaenyra before you. Though of course, you were to be blamed for that.

“My father has just ordered me to embark on a tour of the realm. A marriage tour.” Rhaenyra’s bitter tone roused you from your thoughts. “I do not know why I’m telling you this. Perhaps it’s because you are the only person in the Keep who might have the slightest sympathy for what I’m going through.” Rhaenyra’s voice lowered to a slightly malicious pitch, but there was no disguising the hurt behind her voice. “Or maybe it would be false sympathy. But it is better than none.”

You winced, wanting to reach out and take Rhaenyra’s hand, the way you knew she loved. Physical touch was Rhaenyra’s favourite way of receiving and expressing affection. A wane smile pulled at your lips as you heard her words, “You might be cynical, but I have more sympathies to your plight than you might think, Princess.” Rhaenyra was surprised by the resignation in your tone. She recalled the scene she had seen when she returned to the royal encampment at the hunt that day. “...does it have something to do with your father?”

You let out a sad laugh, “Indeed. I have been forced into a situation much more precarious than yours, I would say. My father has given me an ultimatum: I must wed by the end of this year, or I shall be effectively disinherited and disowned as a member of House Tyrell.” Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, her stance immediately shifting to one of sympathy and guilt. “Does your father jest?” “I’m afraid not,” you remark with a despaired, cynical laugh, “Father’s patience has worn thin when it comes to me, I’m afraid. I should’ve known it foolish to think that I could escape from the ramifications of duty to my House.”

You were a little mortified to find your eyes prickling with tears. In truth, you were frightened to the bone. Two paths were set in stone before you now, and neither were pleasant. Rhaenyra hesitated for a while, before reaching out to take your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. You were startled by her sudden gesture, as the flood of familiarity rushed through your veins. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “This is a horrible situation to find yourself in.” She looked hesitant, “I know you’ve always been of your own mind, Y/N. I just want you to know…that you are not alone. Should the worst come…I’m sure that my father will not turn you away in your hour of need.” Her lips turned upwards wistfully, “I will not too. The both of us are stuck in similar predicaments, are we not? Daughters forced to marry off at our father’s behest. We must stick together.”

“...thank you,” you said quietly, touched, “I do not deserve your kindness, after all I have hidden from you.” Rhaenyra’s smile turns somewhat bitter, “What is done cannot be undone. What matters now is the future.”

The cool metal of Aemma’s pendant dug into the flesh of your palm, as an idea came to you. “I have something for you,” Rhaenyra’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes grew misty as you presented the ruby falcon pendant to her. “I think this belongs to you. I’ve been holding onto it for the past few years, but I think it’s time you have it back.” Rhaenyra takes the pendant, clasping it to her chest as she looked mournfully down at it. “I thought it was naught but ashes now.” You bit your lip, seeing how relieved yet pained Rhaenyra looked made you regret not giving it to her sooner. You had clung onto it for selfish reasons over the past few years, unwilling to let go of Aemma. But now, you felt it was time to let go of the past, and brave on into the future. “I hope that having this piece of Aemma would make you feel more comforted on your marriage tour.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes were misty, as she clasped the pendant like it was worth all the spice and gold from the shores of Essos. “Y/N.” Rhaenyra said quietly. “Hmm?” “Do you think…that Mother would’ve been proud of the person I am today?” Rhaenyra swallowed, looking downcast. “...I fear that, ever since I was named heir, since…Aegon was born, Father’s disappointment in me has been growing by the day.” “And why would you think that?” you asked, concerned. Rhaenyra took a shaky inhale, “I know that Father did not name me heir out of choice. It was a critical time, after Daemon had left, and the Realm would be plunged into unease upon the disinheritance of my uncle from the line of succession.” She bit her lip. “Father even told me as much. He said he had wavered at the notion of making me heir.” Your eyes flickered with shock and a little bit of righteous anger. “He said that?” Rhaenyra nodded miserably, and you patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. “He told me he would never waver again, but it is a little hard to put my faith in that, with….with Aegon’s shadow looming over me.” Rhaenyra sighed, tilting her head upwards. ”I just…I wish I could do something to be better. To prove to Father that I’m not just the right choice to the throne because he named me heir when he had no choice. I want to show him that I possess the qualities to rule the throne. The marriage tour would be a start, but I just detest the idea of having to bind myself to some lord to prove my worthiness to the throne.”

“I understand how you feel,” you commiserated, and she rested her head on your shoulder. “The expectations of a woman’s duty often cast a shadow over our lives.” Rhaenyra closed her eyes, feeling at ease with you, even if it were just for a brief moment. “Mother was fond of saying that marriage is a woman’s duty, and childbed is our battlefield. Especially as royal women,” Rhaenyra’s voice was thick with emotion. “I understand I must do this, for the good of the realm, but…why is it so terrifying? To have my worth determined on my husband and the number of children I can bear in service to him and the realm.” The setting sun glistened off a tear slowly making its way down Rhaenyra’s cheek. “Y/N, do you think my mother would be proud, watching me doubt her teachings?”

You reached out to wipe her tear away, your other hand’s thumb gently stroking her hand that you still held. “You are her daughter, Rhaenyra. I have no doubt that you could be the most dastardly miscreant, and she would be proud of you nonetheless.” That got a bleak smile from Rhaenyra, “Truly?” You nodded your confirmation, smiling fondly down at her. “Truly. Though luckily, your moral character is rather upright.” Rhaenyra laughed, and you smiled, happy to have made her laugh. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. You have no idea how much that means to me.” Rhaenyra whispered to you.

The two women stayed like this in the Godswood for a while, each swarmed by their own thoughts. So different, yet so similar in their impending doom, and duty.

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A/N: All I gotta say is: ruh roh, trouble is brewing. If you have made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. I aim to release chapter 8 by next Wednesday, hopefully something unprecedented doesn't happen before then though.

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onigiriico · 1 year

Text

Muu audio drama (t2) - English TL

[ links: Spotify / YT Music ]

Behold, the longest voice drama I’ve ever posted. This thing is almost 2.3k words long. I am in pain /lh

As always, feel free to head to my ask box or my Twitter (now actually with open DMs lmao) for any questions, potential mistranslations, etc.!

Also,, Trigger warning (aside from. well. the usual Milgram things): Towards the end, they discuss another character’s threat of suicide. It’s nothing super graphic, but there sure are... opinions on it, so please proceed with caution if that’s a touchy topic for you!

⬇️ translation under the cut ⬇️

(door opens)

M: Ah, it’s been a while, Warden-san. – Things have gotten tough, haven’t they… Everyone seems to be struggling and the whole atmosphere feels tense because everyone’s struggling, it’s really troublesome.

E: Is that so?

M: But as for me, I think Milgram has become a lot more comfortable! I know now that I can get whatever I want if I ask for it, so I don’t need to be so on edge anymore.

E: …

M: You did say that you and Milgram are our allies, and maybe you were right all along!

E: …

M: Aww, it’s boring if it’s just me talking! We’re talking to each other for the first time in a while, so you tell me about something interesting too, Warden-san~

E: You’re in pretty high spirits.

M: Am I?

E: I feel like you’ve brightened up.

M: Maybe…

E: But following the judgment after your first trial, the situation in Milgram has changed. And in the aftermath, Kotoko has attacked people too… From how I remember you, I would have expected you to feel uneasier than this.

M: Huh? But that has nothing to do with me.

E: What?

M: The ones who are suffering are the ones who have done bad things, right? You know, like, what goes around comes around.

E: …

M: Besides, Kotoko hurt and was mean to the people who didn’t get forgiven by you, right?

E: …Yeah.

M: Wouldn’t it be weird for me to have any thoughts on that, then? After all, I didn’t do anything wrong. You forgave me!

E: …

M: Eh? Is something wrong? Those who didn’t get forgiven by you must be bad people, if you ask me! I believe in you, Warden-san, so I’d hope you feel happy!

E: …Thanks for that.

M: See, you said you forgave me and that’s part of your job, so it’s probably right! Come on, come on, have some confidence!

E: … Speaking of which, you seem to be pretty close to Haruka.

M: …? Yeah! He’s the one I get along with best in Milgram!

E: Do you have some kind of goal with that?

M: Huh? E: Haruka’s loyalty towards you is one thing, but with this kind of relationship, I think it’s only natural to wonder if you’re using him for something.

M: Ehh… Warden-san, do you not have any friends?

E: Huh?

M: Are there any?

E: None that I could think of.

M: Wow, poor thing,.. I’ll teach you! Friends aren’t like that, you know. Rather than using each other for something, we just get along because we’re comfortable around each other. That’s all.

E: Well, I’m sorry about that.

M: Haruka-kun is really nice! He accepts anything I say, he listens to anything I tell him. For me, that’s really comfortable.

E: And that’s… “friendship”?

M: What do you mean? Of course we’re friends! Haruka-kun is happy with it, so it only has benefits for both of us!

E: I, as someone who has no friends, can’t judge, of course, but isn’t that just exploitation?

M: Exploitation…? Um, I don’t really understand, but… I do help him pick out clothes [in return], and I recently gave him a hairpin I didn’t need anymore as a hand-me-down!

E: …

M: We also have in common that we’re both people who were forgiven by you, Warden-san, so I don’t think it’s a relationship that anyone could have a problem with! E: … I already said this to Haruka, but Milgram consists of three trials, and I have only forgiven you this once. I think it’s too early to feel completely safe.

M: Eh~ You already decided to forgive me. I think it’d be uncool to be like, “Oh, actually, nevermind” now.

E: This is just how it is.

M: It’s fine already, isn’t it? You saw me, didn’t you? And from that, you decided that I haven’t done anything wrong, didn’t you?

E: Yeah, that’s right. For the first trial, that is.

M: It’s the same no matter how many times we do this. I’m me, after all. That won’t change.

E: If I keep looking from now on, will I come across something that puts you in a less positive light?

M: Eh?

E: Milgram reveals the truth through videos and music. After deciding whether to forgive you or not in the first trial, I’ll continue to dig deeper, searching for the truth inside your hearts once again.

M: …

E: For example: Things that you hid. Things that you forgot about. Things that weren’t visible through the rest of your strong feelings. Those are things that I’ll be shedding light on.

M: Hmm…

E: Or at least it might be.

M: …I don’t get it, but whatever. I haven’t done anything wrong, after all.

E: Is that so? It’s true that I’ve forgiven you once… but I remember feeling uneasy about it the whole time. Was it really right to forgive you? Aren’t you still hiding something? Things like that.

M: …Why… would you think stuff like that? That’s mean, Warden-san… You saw me, didn’t you? All the awful things that were done to me, that I couldn’t have escaped from without killing someone! I can’t believe you’re saying this to me, after I’ve gone through all of that… Warden-san, you’re mean.

E: Maybe I am. Your pain and suffering has certainly reached me. Or should I call it bullying? One-sided violence and mistreatment… I’m sure it was difficult to handle. It’s not unreasonable to come to the conclusion that murder is the only way for a weak person to get out of that. That’s exactly why I forgave you.

M: Yeah… If I hadn’t done that, I could have died some day.

E: But – are you actually that weak, Muu?

M: Huh?

E: That’s the source of my unease. Are you really that weak? Were you really getting picked on for being a weakling?

M: What do you mean?

E: How did it come to that in the first place? What was the cause? That’s what I don’t know. You could say it was conveniently omitted.

M: …

E: Even you yourself refuse to go there. Is it a topic that you don’t want to touch upon?

M: … Warden-san, I think you’re really doing something bad. Isn’t it a bad thing to act like there has to be something wrong with someone for them to get bullied?

E: Oh?

M: No matter the circumstances, it’s always the bullies who are in the wrong! Isn’t that obvious? Warden-san, you’re so smart, but you don’t even know things like that? Maybe you should take some lessons on morals or something.

E: …

M: Besides, even if I’ve done something wrong, there’s nothing that could justify bullying someone. Warden-san, I thought you were a nicer person.

E: So sorry that I’m not living up to your expectations.

M: If you’re reflecting on it, I’m willing to forgive you, though…

E: Could I ask the generous Muu to spoil me by letting me ask one more question, then?

M: What is it? If it’s a boring question, I don’t wanna.

E: Let’s say you’ve done nothing wrong—

M: Not “let’s say”! I have done nothing wrong!

E: Got it, got it. So, even though you’ve done nothing wrong – you got bullied. Why do you think that is?

M: I don’t know that! I mean, my family is rich, and my appearance stands out [in a good way], too… they probably did it out of envy or prejudice or something, right?

E: Right, right. And here I was with the theory that you were originally in the opposite position…

M: (slams her hands down)

E: …!

M: What are you saying…?

E: Just that it could also be speculated that you bullied someone and the tables turned on you.

M: Do you know what an awful thing you’re saying right now?

E: What are you getting this angry for? You’ve done nothing wrong, right?

M: Warden-san… I hate you.

E: This is just speculation. Don’t get so mad.

M: …

E: So what? Can you not give me an answer?

M: I haven’t bullied anyone. I’d never do such a mean thing! I’ve never hit anyone or poured water over anyone’s head. I wouldn’t do something like that! I’m not lying! I’m not telling you lies! I really haven’t done anything!

E: I see. I’ll take note of that.

M: … Um… um, by the way, Warden-san! I don’t know about this, but…

E: What?

M: You forgave me because I just gave my bullies their payback, right?

E: …Well… I guess so.

M: What was it called again… Revenge… Revenge? That means revenge can be [an acceptable motivator], right? And if you don’t forgive me this time, that’d mean that it’s not. If we leave aside the thing you said earlier about me maybe having bullied someone before – not that I actually did that, of course!

E: Sure.

M: So if I paid back what my bullies did to me, that would be revenge, right? And if you feel like I had no other choice than that, then don’t you have to forgive me?

E: … Uh… I’m not really sure what you’re trying to say…

M: You see, if you think that me bullying someone back after being bullied is the natural course of events, then wouldn’t it be bad to bully me back again in return?

E: …

M: But if you were like, “I won’t forgive you, Muu! Revenge is bad!,” then wouldn’t that imply that it’s also bad for me to bully someone back after they bullied me? Since we’ve all done something bad anyway, doesn’t that mean that I’ve not done anything wrong in the end?

E: …I think I’m kinda… starting to get your point… maybe…

M: … Warden-san, are you maybe not that intelligent, after all…?

E: Well, sorry about that.

M: Well, I guess it’s to be expected. You talk to a rabbit, after all. (giggles) Either way, you’ve understood that I haven’t done anything wrong, so it’s okay!

E: I sure have understood that talking to you isn’t getting me anywhere. But I guess since you made this explanation, I’ll take it into consideration.

M: Ah, but if you don’t forgive me, Haruka-kun will die, so I think it’d be best to not do that.

E: …!

(bell rings, machinery whirrs)

E: So you’ve heard about that nonsense too?

M: Yeah. Haruka-kun told me. So I could rest easy, according to him. That made me happy… It made me really feel our friendship!

E: You know about it and you’re not trying to stop him? Haruka, that is?

M: Why would I? Haruka-kun says he wants to do it, so there’s nothing I can do, right?

E: But you’re calling him your friend.

M: Isn’t it exactly because he’s my friend? Isn’t friendship about letting your friends do the things they want? … Are you about to tell me “that’s not what friendship is”? Then what is friendship? You’re together because it’s beneficial for everyone involved, aren’t you?

E: I don’t think Haruka is benefitting from that at all.

M: No way… It’s not like you could know what’s good for him.

E: …You sure are tough to beat.

M: I really don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Warden-san. It’s Haruka-kun’s personal freedom to decide what he wants to do, and I’m not doing anything wrong. It’s not like I’ve asked him to do it!

E: I see. That’s how it is, huh. You don’t say anything; just because you’re present, your surroundings’ wishes change to benefit you— Oh, so that’s it. Like a born queen. No, it’s like you’re influencing your surroundings not with words, but with pheromones… Just like a queen bee.

M: Pheromones…? I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I don’t like that lewd-sounding stuff…

E: That’s not the nuance I was talking about.

M: Either way, there’s people who deserve to be unforgiven more than I do, so I think you should focus your efforts on them instead. Like, Kotoko-san has done something bad, for example. Ah, but what she did was approved by you, wasn’t it?

E: …You’re making my blood boil.

M: Anyway… I think you would do good to forgive me. Then Haruka-kun will be safe too. Ah, actually, couldn’t you just forgive everyone? Then Kotoko-san won’t run amok, and you won’t have to think about all the difficult stuff.

E: That is… a very attractive proposal.

M: Right? (giggles)

E: Abandoning all the thinking… How nice it would be if I could just do that.

M: … If you ask me, I don’t really get why you don’t do it…

E: Because this is the role I’m playing.

M: But the role was given to you, wasn’t it? You didn’t end up doing this because you wanted to, right? It’s not a dream you’ve had for a long time or anything, right, Warden-san? So there’s no need to let it tie you down. Couldn’t you just quit?

E: What are you…

M: Warden-san, we call you “Warden” because that’s what you are, right? I was assigned to be a prisoner, but that doesn’t mean my heart will become just that of a “prisoner” too. After all, I’m still me.

E: …!

M: Warden-san, are you okay? Are you feeling sick again?

E: (heavy breathing)

M: That’s because you keep thinking too much about difficult things. Just stop. Being the Warden, that is.

E: … Just— shut up, already! Prisoner no.4, Muu! Sing your sins!

#milgram #milgram music videos #muu kusunoki #milgram muu #milgram es #translation #fan translation #audio drama #the links might not work for the americans yet if you're here early bc it only comes out at midnight but. y'know #this sure is. yeah. (deep breath) yeah.#please forgive me if I messed up on the revenge-related mental gymnastics lmao my brain is not big enough for this

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complexcritterscave · 2 months

Text

Me when I write

Hope you all enjoy Cheshire Cat doomed yuri. This ship has grown on me a bit chat.

Also they start out dating? Woah that's rare from me

Enjoy hurhurhur

Edit before Posting #1: WTF SHE’S 6’7?! 9’0+ WITH THE HAT?! Oh my God she’s literally a fucking GIANT!!!!!!!

EBP #2: Urg I made myself jealous can’t wait to cause suffering

EBP #3: OH YEAH I should probably mention blood and character death warning. It does get a bit graphic towards the end. Viewer discretion is advised.

The elevator was noisy...

And full

Full and noisy...

She hated that.

Two of the things that she hated the most, combining into one awful physical hell.

Her ears flattened as each voice jumbled with one another.

"Brick boy."

"*KRRTZ* WA-WARNING PROTOCOL INITIATED! Animals of such large aren't allowed in the estabilishment! Please re-relocate."

"You wouldn't even hear a fly buzzing around through that thick wooded skull."

"I hate that um... dumb green cat."

So much noise, so many arguments. And then that dumb animatronic had the nerve to say she wasn’t allowed. Sure she wasn’t the thinnest cat but what she lacked there she made up for in strength. At least she thought she was strong.

Ugh! Why is she thinking so hard about this?! She just needs to get to the WHEEL OF floor, then she can get off this elevator and not have to worry about psychos anymore.

As if she spoke it into existence, the elevator dinged before its doors opened, revealing the floor as she let out a quiet prayer and sighed. She wasted no time to push past the others, earning her a few confused stares as she exited the elevator.

She made sure her tail wasn’t caught in the door, as that had happened before and trust her, not only was it painful but she nearly lost it entire, before turning her gaze to the purple suited deity that sat on the crates near the wheel. Her closed eyes opening at the sound of someone’s arrival.

"Retro!"

The feline purred as she heard the adoration in Mach’s voice, rushing over and climbing onto the stage before sitting next to her.

"Mrrow!" «Hi Mach!»

"What brings you here?"

DrRETRO rolled her eyes as she looked at the deity, who was now leaning forward with a knowing grin on her face.

"Meow!" «I know that look. You know why I’m here!»

"Yeah I know! I missed you."

"Meow.." «It’s only been a day.»

"That long?! Yeesh I don’t wanna know how two days are like!"

Before DrRETRO could respond, she heard the sound of a metal door slamming open. Of course being a cat, well katball, she was startled by it; instinctively jumping back to avoid possible danger.

Instead, she was met with the cowardly, caterpillar, clown. Pilby was staring at the two awkwardly, their face contorting into one of anxiety.

"D'ohhh… I’m sorry. Am I messing something up. Heugh I always mess up :0(…"

"Pilby we’ve talked about this, you’re not a mess up. You’re not interrupting anything."

"Oh good golly. I’m sorry Mach."

"It’s okay. You’re fine! If you wanna go on the elevator, you can. They haven’t left yet."

Pilby turned towards the open doors. Upon hearing and seeing the chaos that occurred, they shook their head rapidly.

"Oh fiddle faddle! That looks overwhelming! I prefer to stay here please…"

"Suit yourself."

She turned towards the startled cat, chuckling quietly as she lifted her top hat. At least the caterpillar wasn’t alone when it came to feeling afraid..

The doors of the elevator closed, taking the rowdy crowd with it as it began to ascend.

"Me-" «So-»

The doctor couldn’t even finish her statement- erm meow before she was pulled close and given several kisses on her forehead by Mach. As much as the feline loved it, she wouldn’t let her get away with this. At least not without a challenge, trashing around as she purred in an attempt to escape.

"Hey stop that! I’m not finished with you yet!"

DrRETRO continued her attempt at escape, her purring becoming louder before she eventually gave in. It’s not like she didn’t enjoy it, after all, anything that came from the deity was practically a gift… At least to her.

"Mrrrooow.." «I let you win this time.»

"Sure you did."

Mach held the face of the feline, looking down at her with a smile as she rubbed her cheeks.

"You’re really soft you know that?"

"Mmmrreow!" «Who do you take me for? Bive? I shower every day!»

"Yet you’re still a big, fat, stinker."

"Purrrr…" «I’m your big, fat, stinker.»

"Touché."

Pilby was left watching the two from the side, smiling as they listened to their adorable conversation. They found their relationship to be like two middle schoolers who had just gotten together, being all lovey dovey and overly affectionate with each other. They were glad they had fallen for one another.

Mach being the keeper and caretaker for the "[X] OF" floors, had a tendency to overwork herself. The last time that happened, someone ended up getting a hammer straight to the gut; and based off the sound, they were pretty sure it took a while before that person had actually healed. Not to mention Mach was left were a darker coloured hammer than what she originally had.

She did eventually attempt to apologize to them but the damage had been done and they immediately ran off before she could get halfway through her statements. They never heard or saw it happening again… But they were pretty certain it did when they weren’t around…

DrRETRO was similar. Usually overworking herself to give others check up. From what Pil heard, Bive was the most difficult one to handle, typically having to either be held down or knocked out to get her to comply. Just the sound of it seemed exhausting and irritating…

The difference between the two was DrRETRO fought dirty, going for quick and deadly attacks or attempting to cause some sort of permanent damage to her opponent. They were certain this had to do with her going to prison as they once witnessed, first hand, along with Mark and Spud!, her and Gnarpy get into a giant cat fight. Fur flying in frenzy as they fought tooth and claw. Even with the alien having the extra limbed advantage, xe still lost horribly due to Retro’s size and strength. Pilby even thought with Gnarpy’s zapper or whatever xe called it, xey would still lose!

They were certain the only reason why the katball even decided to heal xem was because Spud! asked her to! The very guy that hated Gnarpy ended up feeling bad for how badly xe lost the battle. Apparently that was enough to get the doctor to lift her glasses and beam the poor Gnarpian. As stoic as Gnarpy was, they had never seen xem look at someone with such hatred yet also pure terror in their four eyes.

Ever since then if either one saw the other on the elevator they flat out refused to enter it. They could’ve swore they even saw Gnarpy flinch one time when DrRETRO narrowed her eyes at xem.

However, it’s like they both tried to better themselves for the other. Both never overworked themselves since they got together, like they wanted to be the best version they could be for each other. It was absolutely adorable in the caterpillars eyes. Sometimes they even had little sleep overs! Mach typically left Pilby in charge when she was gone but always made sure that every task, except the easier ones so they didn’t feel useless, were already completed to prevent any accidents.

They watched as the two enjoyed each other’s company, talking and dropping the occasional pet name or tease. After a few minutes they decided to leave them alone, quietly walking across the stage and walking through the other metal door.

"Waowee, they’re adorable! I’m happy for them."

Mach listened as DrRETRO ranted about her day. From the rowdy elevator, to uncooperative or annoying patients, and even Jermbo not helping her out as he promised. He was always selling his pops that made everyone drop like flies… Well more like turn to dust. Mach witnessed it happen once, it freaked her out to think that something so simple could disintegrate someone just like that.

"So in other words, your day so far hasn’t been ideal."

"Mrraow…" «Yeah...»

"Well at least you’re here with me. I’m sure my mere presence can brighten it."

"Mew." «You’re so egocentric.»

"I am not! I’m just being honest!"

The feline rolled her eyes as she looked towards Mach, continuing to purr quietly with a small grin on her face.

"Mrrow..?" «Hey Mach?»

"Hm?"

"Mrreoww… Meow…?" «Maybe I’ve been listening to Split talk too much about Bive’s conspiracy theories but… You really think there’s other versions of you?»

"What?"

"Meow! Meww…" «You know like if there are different versions of you! Maybe a you that wears pink suit instead of purple?»

"That sounds like a fashion disaster, everyone knows purple is the superior colour."

"Meow! Mmmeow? Mrrow…" «Oh come on I’m being serious! Maybe in a different universe we switch roles? I take care of the Wheel of or Hall of or Wall of or whatever and you’re the one taking care of the others.»

"I mean… It sounds like an interesting concept. I don’t think it’s entirely plausible though. Well maybe it could exist…"

"Meow!" «Maybe I have a giant top hat or I’m just a dog in another reality!»

"I’m sure my catself would still love your dog self."

…

"Merrow.." «That makes me wonder…»

"What?"

"Mrroww…" «Are we together in those realities?»

"Well I’m sure we are! Seems unlikely that we aren’t."

"Mew…" «Yeah… You’re right…»

"When am I not?"

Mach would take her hat before covering the doctor’s face with it, mischievous grin on her face to contrast her usual neutral expression.

"MROW!" «YOU LITTLE-!»

She pulled the hat off her face, an amused purr erupting from the feline as she gazed up at the deity.

The next few hours of theirs were just spent talking and enjoying each other’s company, and before long, it was time for DrRETRO to go. She bid her farewells as she made her way back to the elevator and pressing one of the buttons. As she waited, she felt a slight tug on her sleeve as she looked down towards the cowardly caterpillar she saw earlier.

"Heugh, you don’t mind if I come with you do you? I’m pretty sure most of the ones from earlier got off. Plus, I need to get something from Enphoso’s shop..."

She nodded with a purr, she never minded Pilby. They were a sweetheart and one of the few more tolerable beings to be around. Plus, it was just a quick trip to the store and back; she could wait that long for them. The elevator dinged, opening its doors to reveal a nearly empty elevator; minus a tired Lampert and reserved Pest.

The two didn’t say a word at DrRETRO and Pilby entered the elevator, keeping to themselves rather than engaging in small talk. Pilby was already completing the necessary steps to make it to their desired floor before shuffling back over to stand near DrRETRO.

Soon enough Lampert exited onto his IKEA floor and Pest left to scrounge the subways, leaving the caterpillar and katball alone.

"So uhm…"

She looked down at Pilby, tilting her head.

"How are you?

"Meow." «Good…»

"That’s nice… That’s good… D’ohhh sorry for making things awkward. I just couldn’t stand the silence anymore."

"Mrrow." «It’s okay, I understand.»

"Are you gonna get anything from Enphoso’s shop?"

"Mmmmrew." «Hmm, I don’t think so.»

"Maybe you could get a gift for Mach?"

"Mrow-?" «What-?»

"W-Well you don’t have to! I was just suggesting since you two are together now you could get something for her? Heugh! Sorry for invading I don’t mean to be a nosy busybody…"

"Meow!" «No no, that’s a good idea!»

"Oh… That’s good!"

Retro nodded. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner?! It was perfect! But what kind of gift could she get her? Enphoso had some of the most… interesting items. She could’ve sworn she remembered seeing some sort of plushed golden doll. When asked about it, apparently it was called The Token of Midas. What it did, she didn’t even wanna find out. She knew little of Midas but she knew about how everything he touched turned to gold.

That wasn’t a risk she wanted to take.

She was pulled from her thoughts as a small ding was heard, the doors of the elevator opening and revealing the cheery music of Enphoso’s Shop. The katball and caterpillar stepped out of the elevator as its doors closed behind them.

"Hello!"

An overwhelmingly cheerful and echoing voice spoke out. One she had heard many times, it was like a broken record.

"Welcome to my store. I only sell glig glags and doo dads, so be sure to pay up at the front desk! BUT DON'T STEAL ANYTHING FROM ME."

Yet another empty threat of the yellow, smiling, cashier. She had witnessed Pest swipe items from the shelves and face no consequences almost as many times as she heard its voice. Either Enphoso was extremely blind or extremely stupid; maybe even a bit of both.

Pilby had wasted no time to gather their items, which was simply some more apples and a small tub of frosting. DrRETRO was taking much longer however, carefully scanning the shelves for the perfect gift as Pilby watched from afar.

"What’s she looking for? Are my glig glags and doo dads not enough? Or is she planning on stealing..?"

The caterpillar jumped back out of fear. They never heard Enphoso speak in such a quiet yet malicious manner, the glare it sent them didn’t help either.

"Honk! Sh-She’s just looking for a-a gift for someone..!"

"You better not be lying caterpillar. I hate accomplices just as much as their thieving frie-"

It was cut off as someone cleared their throat. Enphoso looked up, its chilling smile remaining on its face as it looked at the katball doctor.

"Took you long enough, silly!"

DrRETRO merely rolled her eyes and placed a purple bowling ball on the counter. She would have preferred flowers but of course it didn’t have any… Weird smiley face.

"Will that be all?"

"Mrrew.." «Yes..»

The two watched as it rung up their items and sent them on their way.

"See you later! Hope you enjoyed your stay…"

Enphoso’s high pitched giggles could be heard as the elevator doors closed, freaky weirdo smiley face. What was wrong with that thing? It was always acting so weird.. She didn’t like it at all.

"I don’t think that thing likes you very much."

"Meow." «I don’t like it either.»

"That’s fair. What’d you get?"

"Mrrow. Mraow." «This purple bowling ball. I wanted to get her flowers, but just my luck that thing didn’t sell them.»

"Maybe you can get her flowers later?"

"Mrow-" «Maybe I could-»

The sound of metal and concrete scraping against each other cut her off. Both she and Pilby lifted their heads and looked at the ceiling towards two holes that replaced where the fluorescent lights would be.

"Mrrow..?" «What in the…?»

The caterpillar had already backed away, not wanting to get too close in case electrical wires fell from the openings. For DrRETRO? Curiosity killed the cat. One moment there was just confused staring and questioning mrrows, the next the sound of the bowling ball cracking as it hit the floor along with a cut off excruciating yowl.

Pilby could do nothing but stare in horror as the sound of metal pierced flesh and broke through bones filled their ears, the feeling of warm blood splattering on them as they dropped their newly bought items and covered their mouth in shock.

The caterpillar watched as DrRETRO quivered a few times before falling completely still, her eyes dull and lifeless as the metal spike that pierced her body slowly lifted back into the ceiling; dripping the thick crimson liquid from its tip and onto the floor. The katball laid there motionless, her fur stained red and skull cracked open.

The sight was too grotesque for Pilby, causing them to look away while crying. They felt sick to their stomach, they wanted to throw up. They were covered in blood, good GOD they were covered in her blood. What were they gonna do? They what COULD they do?! They can’t just carry her back to her floor she was way too heavy and-

Wait…

How were they even gonna explain this to Mach?

How could they break this down for her?! "Yeah sorry your girlfriend is dead.." THAT’S NOT HOW YOU TELL PEOPLE SOMEONE DIED! Christ they had no idea what to do..

They turned back to the lifeless body behind them before looking at the cracked bowling ball. She bought it for Mach, it’d only be fair that she received the gift, even if it was not of use. It laid partially in the small crimson pool that had gathered around the doctor, Pilby picked it up and held it carefully before backing away. Their once white and green pale paws now stained as they picked up their own belongings.

They continued growing more and more queasy as the metallic smell of iron filled their nose. Upon hearing the ding of the elevator, they waited impatiently for the doors to open before running out, tears still streaming down their face as they rushed towards the stage.

Mach was still there, sitting on the wooden crate with her eyes closed before opening them as she heard the arrival of the elevator. A smile nearly graced her face before she saw the distressed and bloodied Pilby running towards her. Immediately she grew concerned, getting up and stepping off the stage.

"Huh- Pilby? What’s wrong? What happened?!"

Her grip on her hammer tightened as the caterpillar stopped abruptly in front of her, unsure of how to begin. She noticed the clown makeup on their face had started to run due to their tears, she noticed how they struggled to speak, she noticed the items that they held in their many arms. She kneeled down, carefully taking the items before placing them on the floor along with her hammer.

"Pilby. Calm down, it’s okay. You’re safe now."

"Hng- She- The-"

"Shhh… Calm down… It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You’re not in any danger."

"The spikes-"

Spikes? She never really took the elevator anywhere, so she had no earthly idea what they were talking about. She knew a few of the floors such as the one where its bottom fell out, she thinks it was called the frightening floor..? She couldn’t entirely remember.. However, she did her best to comfort them holding two of their hands.

"What about spikes?"

"The lights moved an-and-"

"And…?"

"They killed her!"

Mach grew more concerned as they spoke.

"Killed who?"

"We were just coming back from the shop.. And it killed her."

"Pilby, who died?"

"She was looking at the holes in the ceiling, she was just looking, and then the spikes fell and one of them killed her. It killed DrRETRO!"

Mach felt her heart drop, her already pale face turning whiter at the news. There was no way… There was absolutely no way she was dead. She didn’t want to believe it. She refused to believe it!

"What..?"

"She’s in the elevator. I didn’t know what to do. I can’t carry her, she’s too heavy. I didn’t know if I should’ve taken her to her floor or not. I didn’t know! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-"

"…"

Mach listened as the caterpillar repeatedly apologized, slowly looking towards the elevator. The doors hadn’t closed yet, it was like it was begging her to take a glance. Begging her to see what it did. Like it wanted to prove her wrong..

"Stop apologizing… Head to your room…"

Pilby stood still as they watched the deity slowly make her way towards the elevator, they had stopped apologizing but they didn’t leave. Not yet. They were still too distressed to leave.

Mach cringed as she got closer to the elevator, she hadn’t even looked inside yet she could see the blood dripped off the railing and running down the walls. She took a deep breath before stepping inside, her stomach churning in disgust and despair at the grisly sight before her.

Before her lay the body of DrRETRO. From what she could tell the 'spike' had fallen through and pierced her from her skull through her stomach. Bits of bone and brain laid near her, her eyes were dull, blood had dripped from her mouth and stained her fur.

Mach let out a quiet sigh, forcing herself to stay calm for now. She couldn’t just leave her here but she had no clue what to do with her body. She looked at the buttons of the elevator, her mind coming up with an idea as she pressed them with shaking hands.

She pressed the frightening floor, searching her pockets for a coin before placing it in the slot.

She stepped off the elevator, staring into the eyes of DrRETRO as the doors slowly shut.

She turned towards Pilby, staring at the caterpillar as they trembled.

"Mach..?"

"Go get cleaned up.."

"… Okay…"

She sighed as they didn’t press further, however they did pause for a moment, picking up the cracked bowling ball and slowly making their way over to Mach.

"She heugh… She bought this for you… Enphoso didn’t have any flowers so she got this instead.."

Mach carefully took the bowling ball from the caterpillar before they left, going to get cleaned up as they muttered quietly to themselves and went through the metal door.

She stared at the purple bowling ball, gripping it tightly in her hands as tears began streaming down her face, staining her cheeks as she trembled. She wanted this to be some sort of horrible nightmare, she wanted this to be some sort of sick yet false reality. But the more she stared at it, the worse she felt. The more she stared, the more it sank in, the more she stared, the more she realized there was nothing she could do to change this outcome.

All Mach could do right now, was breakdown in silence..

RAHHHGGGGG LIVE LAUGH LOVE YURI!!!!

I fell asleep while writing the end and woke up with a headache sorry for any silly typos and horrible grammar that appears.

Hope you enjoyed it!!!!!

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