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heavenlyraindrops · 27 days

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♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Four ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Four Warnings: slight profanity Masterlist is here.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Four]

You hadn’t been keeping track of the time.

Say, a couple years ago, you never would’ve considered the possibility that you could end up in a room full of rubber ducks. In Hell. With Lucifer Morningstar. Or, what sort of situation could lead you into it.

But you supposed that life was full of surprises.

You ran your finger along the side of the head of a random rubber duck you had decided to pick up. You heard a small gasp, and a hand shot out to snatch it out of your hands.

“Careful,” Lucifer gasped. You stared at him blankly.

“You don’t know what they can do��” he said sheepishly. You raised an eyebrow.

“Sure.”

He smiled at you. You crossed your legs, staring down at him in his chair from your perch on the table. “So, is this what you do with your highly important, influential, immortal existence? Create an army of rubber ducks?” You teased lightly. He tipped his head back in the chair, staring at the ceiling.

“Maybe.”

You tilted your head, and your eyes drifted over to a painting on the wall. Standing up, you walked over, feeling golden eyes train into your back. You pointed at it, turning to face him. “Who are they?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard- he just stared at you as if you had threatened to strangle him. You furrowed your brows in concern. “What?”

He cleared his throat. “Nothing. That’s my daughter and my… ex wife.”

“Oh,” you managed to utter, feeling a strange mix of regret and guilt burrowing it’s way into your chest. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-“

“No, it’s fine,” he said quickly. “Ask away.”

“Are you sure?” The reply was a simple nod.

Curiosity killed the cat. You winced, trying to banish Sera’s voice from your head.

“Her name is Lilith, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

You shifted from foot to foot. “What’s your daughter's name?”

“Charlie- Charlotte.”

You returned to where you originally were. “I take it she doesn’t live with you in this huge, erm, house?”

Lucifer smiled wryly. “No, she… she’s off doing, uh…”

“You don’t know, do you?” You sighed. He shook his head. “It’s alright. Do you two not talk?” He shook his head, again.

You dragged over a chair to sit next to him, and reached out for his hand. He didn’t shy away from your touch as you intertwined your fingers. The cold metal of a ring- you glanced down- his wedding ring, pressed against your skin.

The air slowly filled with a thick silence, until he broke it.

“She left to chase whatever dreams she had a while after Lilith left.” His next words were bitter. “She just left- Lilith, I mean. Just disappeared.”

You glanced at him, and he laughed. “But whatever. It’s been years. She’s clearly not coming back. I’ll just have to move on.”

“You’re clearly not trying,” you pointed out, tapping a finger against the thick gold band. He sighed, then looked up at you suddenly.

“What?”

“I’ll take it off.”

“Seriously? I didn’t mean-“

“No, you’re right.” He stood up and went over to a drawer in the corner. You watched as he pulled the ring off his hand and dropped it in one of them, then locked it with a key sitting on the top. “Catch.”

You caught the key as it came flying through the air towards you. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Keep it. Or toss it, I don’t care.”

You buried it in the depths of your satchel. “Fine,” you muttered. You could see his pleased smile in your peripheral.

♱♱♱

“Fuck! [name]!”

You yelped as you fell into a giant pile of rubber ducks. The smell of- well, rubber- attacked your senses, almost suffocating. You gasped, emerging in a flurry of rolling yellow ducks to see Lucifer standing over you, stifling his laughter.

“Do you not have, like, places to keep these…” you gestured agitatedly at the colony of artificial creatures surrounding you. “Specimens?”

“They’re ducks.”

“I know they’re ducks.”

He grinned as he offered his hand towards you.

A scream sounded out outside. Two black shapes zipped across the red sky, the scene framed by the window you were staring out of. It was behind Lucifer, framing his silhouette as he turned around to glance outside. The scream had dissolved and the shapes had disappeared. Lucifer glanced back at you.

You stared at him and gulped, frazzled.

“Are you sure your… friends aren’t looking for you?” You took his arm and he pulled you up. But didn’t let go.

“I hope not.”

Lucifer stared at your face, intensely, as if he was trying to memorise it. You flushed and turned away. “Maybe it was a bad choice you made, seeing me.”

You laughed nervously. “It’ll be fine. Plus, you hardly left me with much of a choice.”

He smiled, and his eyes seemed to glitter in the dim light. “We all have choices, angel.”

It knocked the breath right out of you.

You stared at him, then turned away again. “Sure, whatever.”

You heard his low chuckle behind your back as you walked away.

♱♱♱

The pentagram would be closing soon.

You grappled with the window, until Lucifer sighed and pushed you to the side, gently, opening it up for you. It swung open soundlessly as you clambered onto the windowsill, wings poised for flight.

“Angel, wait.”

You stared at him as something closed around your wrist. You looked down. A bracelet. “Huh?”

He held up his own wrist. The bracelet on it was identical to yours. “First thing I’ve made since a rubber duck.”

“…a bracelet.”

He held his finger up to your lips to silence you. You flushed. “Not just any bracelet,” he said, the pride evident in his voice. “It’s for communication. And you’re the perfect person to help me test it out over long distances. You press the stone on the front, and mine will buzz and light up. Vice versa.”

“We are worlds apart.” The sentence seemed to strike a strange feeling in you, one of melancholy. Lucifer, however, seemed unfazed.

You knew that, deep down, you’d give in anyways.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

♱♱♱

The morning light filtered through the window and onto your bed as you emptied out your satchel. Your notebook and pen dropped onto the covers soundlessly. The apple bounced off the corner of the frame, rolling across your rug.

As you leaned down to pick it up, you heard something else clatter onto the floor.

You turned and stared at the ground where it lay, next to your foot.

The key, glinting in the pale light.

You kicked it under your bed. It spun away into the shadows with a final flash.

You sighed, shoulders relaxing, and sat onto the bed, leaning over your arm, staring at the bracelet. The stone in the middle was flat, in the shape of an apple, and a

metal snake coiled around the band of the bracelet. Pretty.

You pressed the stone. Buzz.

It lit up as you touched it. A few seconds ticked by.

Buzz.

You flinched as it lit up and vibrated, by itself too, then let out a deep breath. He was on the other side. It worked.

Knock knock knock.

You stiffened.

The knocking started up again, more relentless this time. You scrambled forward, quickly picking your way across your living room and opening the door.

“Lute?”

She smiled thinly, crossing her arms and glaring at you. The look on her face made your heart sink down to your shoes and dribble out in a puddle onto the floor. You gulped.

“[name],” she said coldly. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay Tuned!

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog, @bakugounuggets, @ren-ren23, @mjhehe09,@angelicwillows

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alloftheimagines · 1 year

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joel miller | first kill

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 1.8k

warnings: blood, violence, strong language, angst, hurt/comfort in the best way joel knows how, they/them reader.

synopsis: in which the reader is forced to take a life for the first time in order to save the man she loves. not requested just more brain rot from me.

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld

When the first gunshot sounds, you bite down on your tongue to trap a scream, tasting blood. Joel ushers you and Ellie down behind the truck, and you wrap an arm around her to keep her close. Joel hunches over you, protecting you both. You hate that he has to; hate that he sees it as his job.

But he’s the only one who can keep you safe.

Your wide-eyed gaze snags on a small opening in the wall. “Ellie. Go hide in there. When Joel says go, you go.”

“Fuck, no. I’m not leaving you guys.”

“Do as you're told,” Joel bites out. He peeks over the top of the truck before returning his focus to you. As he does, a bullet pings off the metal and you all cower. “Shit. There’s two of ‘em.”

Your trembling hand reaches into your waistband for your pistol. You’ve never used it, not once, Joel always making sure you don’t have to. But there’s three of you now, and you’re not sure there’ll be an easy way out this time.

He looks over the truck again. “Now. Go now. Stay low.”

You urge Ellie away, and she crawls to the hole at the same time Joel returns his attention to the shooters. You breathe a sigh of relief when she vanishes in the shadows.

“You, too,” he orders, surprising you.

“No,” you reply. “Two against one? I don’t fucking think so. I’m staying.”

He sighs, jaw ticking in frustration, but there isn’t time. Footsteps grow closer. He rises into a crouch, balances his shotgun…

Shoots.

You flinch as you hear the body hit the floor, and then another round of bullets whistles through the air from the remaining gunman. “Stay there,” Joel says. “Don’t move.”

You wouldn’t know how even if you wanted to, frozen in place. Silence blankets you for a moment, and then Joel’s finger flexes over the trigger.

His second shot rings through the dilapidated building.

“Gone,” he whispers. “They’re gone.”

But you both know those shots were too loud, and anybody could be coming. Slowly, you rise onto your feet, peering over the truck. You try not to look at the bodies, the blood, as you ready your gun with both hands, just like he taught you.

Nothing.

And then a figure comes at Joel in a blur from a side door, and the two of them collapse in a writhing heap.

“Joel!”

The attacker is armed, and he has Joel pinned down by the shotgun. Joel is grunting, suffocating. You point your gun without thinking, aiming straight for the back of the stranger’s head. Fear spikes through you all at once, and your fingers curl around the trigger in a deathly squeeze.

The gunfire rents through the air, causing your ears to ring. The attacker slumps on top of Joel, and only as you see the blood blossoming just above his neck do you realise what you’ve done. The gun wavers in your hand like a ship in a tempest. You drop it, imagining that crimson staining your palms as the stench of gunpowder chokes you.

You’ve killed. Taken a life.

Before you can worry about the bullet going through, Joel pushes the body away, struggling to rise to his feet. His face is splattered in blood. You barely notice him, too busy looking at the attacker’s now visible features. He barely looks eighteen, maybe twenty at most, maybe far younger.

A kid.

You shot a kid. Somebody’s son, brother, nephew.

Joel is saying your name, but you feel like you’re underwater.

“Don’t look at him, look at me,” he commands, cupping your jaw and tearing your gaze from the lifeless boy on the floor. “It’s okay. You had to. You had to do it. I’m here, okay? I’m here.”

Slowly, you begin to shake your head as tears roll down your cheeks. “What did I do?” A sob falls from you. “What have I done?”

“Shit.” Joel tugs you into his warm, hard chest, and your tears soak into his jacket.

“He’s dead,” you’re saying, over and over. “I killed him. He’s dead.” And there is so much blood. You peek over his shoulder again and wonder if that speck there is brain matter on the floor or just your own brain torturing you.

“I’m sorry.” Joel rocks you, his palm hard as stone as his fingers tangle in your hair. “I’m so sorry, darlin'. But we have to go now. We have to hide. People will be coming.”

“There’s a way out through here!” Ellie calls.

It’s a blur as Joel lets you go, picking up your discarded gun and slipping it into his waistband. You can do nothing but stare at the life you’ve taken. It doesn’t feel right to leave the body, to leave him. Your victim.

But you’re being pulled away, through a door, a window, into the street and another ruined building, running, hiding, Joel clearing each step along the way as he keeps you tucked beside him. You stagger on numb feet, looking back every now and again to the building where everything changed. The building where you first took a life.

You have to stop after what feels like years of moving through the city, bile rising up your throat. You vomit all over the sidewalk. Joel’s hand strokes soothing circles across your shoulders — “It’s okay, darlin’. It’s okay.” — and then you’re being pulled away again, again, again. Finally, you find a place to stop. Joel checks every door, every window. You wipe your mouth, your tears, your snotty nose, finding that you’re still shaking uncontrollably. You imagine your freckles are blood stains and have to hide your hands.

“Look at me.” He’s cupping your jaw again, his face unfocused. You think about wiping away the blood crusting his weathered skin, but you can’t bear to touch it. “It wasn’t your fault, okay? You did what you had to. You saved me. It was my fault, baby. I should’ve seen ‘em coming. I should have known better. I should have been the one protecting you.”

There’s no answer that you can give. No answer that will undo what you’ve just done. You didn’t think it would feel like this, killing someone, especially when you know the attacker would’ve killed Joel if you hadn’t pulled that trigger, but it feels like the life has seeped out of you as well as him. It feels like there is a darkness weighing you down now, and you know for certain you will see that gaunt face every day, every night.

“We’re going to have to settle here for a bit,” he’s saying to Ellie. “Give them time.”

You sink down without taking off your backpack and are unable to keep from looking at your hands again. They won’t stop shaking. You’re certain they’ll never stop again.

Another hand covers yours. Joel’s. He’s knelt in front of you, wearing an expression full of sorrow — of loss. Because he’s lost you. The person he knows, the person who has never taken a life, who has done everything they can not to leave the world worse off or bloodier than it already is.

He squeezes your fingers tightly. “Listen to me. Are you listenin’?”

Your bottom lip wobbles, but you nod.

“I know,” he says. “I know what this means. I know that something has changed today. I know how it feels to carry ghosts around. But I need you to stay with me, right here. I need you to focus, just for a little while longer. You hear?”

You swallow. With the rough pad of his thumb, he wipes away your tears. “We can’t stay here. We’re in the open. We need to keep moving, but we can’t do that if you don’t come back to me.”

“I thought… I thought you were going to die,” you whisper. “I thought…”

“I know, baby, and you did so good. You did so fuckin’ good.” He shifts beside you to press his forehead against yours. Both clammy. “You saved me. You kept me alive.”

You took one life for the sake of another. And the worst part is that, even now, when you are breaking on this old carpet, you know you would do it again if it meant keeping Joel safe. Joel and Ellie. It’s the reason you didn’t think twice.

You can’t lose him. You can’t do this without him. He’s all you have to cling onto, and so you do, knotting your fingers in his shirt as though reminding yourself he’s here, he’s real, he’s worth the guilt and the pain and the fear.

“I’m a killer,” you breathe.

“Sometimes, there is no line between killin’ and survivin’. Not in this world. I’m so goddamn sorry I couldn’t stop him. I’m so…” His face crumples, eyes turning glossy. But he sniffs, shakes himself out of it quickly as he places a kiss to your forehead. “It shouldn’t have happened. But it has. And now there’s nothing we can do to change it.”

You close your eyes, and he’s there to catch more tears, more pain. Nausea rolls through you, but you swallow it down, catching a glimpse of Ellie. Though she’s trying to hide it, she’s terrified, and it’s written all over her face.

Better you than her, you think. Better this world makes you a killer than a fourteen-year-old.

“Okay. Okay, I’m ready to keep going.”

“You sure?” Joel whispers.

You nod.

He kisses you again, this one lingering enough that Ellie fakes a gag, which earns her a dirty look from Joel.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that this doesn’t happen again,” he vows. "Everything."

You brush your fingertips across his cheek sadly, knowing it shouldn’t have to be him all the time. He shouldn’t be the only one fighting his demons.

Now, he doesn’t have to be.

“We have to protect each other,” you say. “Give me my gun.”

He gives you a reluctant grimace. “Darlin’...”

“It’s too late to go back,” you say, and you’re not just talking about the kill, the blood on your hands. You’re talking about the way you love him, the way you can’t stop loving him. The way your love has somehow made you into a fierce, broken, desperate killer. And a survivor, like he said. It’s too late to go back, and even if you could, you wouldn’t.

You love him.

He must see it all over your face, because he softens as he tucks a sweat-slick strand of hair behind your ear. So gentle. He’s so rarely this gentle.

“Give me the gun, Joel,” you ask again.

He does, dropping it into your outstretched hand. You want to flinch against the cool metal, but you fight that feeling, slipping the gun away quickly.

You try to compose yourself, moulding your features into something you hope seems reassuring. Joel dips his head before standing, holding his hand out for you. You take it and let him pull you up, and somehow, the world doesn’t crumble beneath your feet. Somehow, the earth keeps turning.

Somehow, he doesn’t look at you like you’re a monster. So you keep going, keep dragging this new ghost around the city with you in the hopes that one day it will be worth it.

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whitedarkmoonflower · 9 months

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Kidnapped Part 3

Sihtric x reader

Authors note: third and final part of the requested fic about Sihtric’s wife being kidnapped by Heasten while expecting a child. My warmest thanks for requesting this. I genuinely enjoyed writing it and I hope very much that you will like it.

Warnings: angst, despair and losing hope mixed with a great portion of heart-warming fluff

Word Count: 4,119

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Tags: @namelesslosers

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“Heastens camp is located at Beamfleot, near the river. He has amassed some ten ships there, and they are preparing to march," Rypere continued his account once the commotions after the fuss regarding Sihtric’s family news and him being a father of two children had calmed down. Sihtric sat at the table, his face wearing a dreamy expression as he got lost in his thoughts.

“Our plan remains unchanged, but we must act swiftly. I expect all of you to gather in the tavern for the next three days, pretending to be drunk and spreading the word to anyone who will listen that Edward, under pressure from his mother and the bishop, has once again banished me. Spread the news that I have grown weary of the Wessex kings' ingratitude, and we are setting off for Northumbria to reclaim Bebbanburg," Uhtred responded.

"Sihtric! Hey, Sihtric! Are you listening to me?" Uhtred's voice jolted Sihtric from his reverie, and he looked up in surprise at his Lord.

“Yes, Lord! No, Lord! What did you say?” Sihtric stammered.

"You will be pretending to be drunk," Uhtred emphasized the word 'pretending' unmistakably. "Is that clear? Finan, Osferth, keep a close eye on our newmade father." Sihtric blushed in embarrassment but did not protest.

Everybody stood up and started leaving the hall.

“Sihtric,” Uhtred called his friend to stay behind, “Your mind is filled with myriad thoughts, I can see it. Sihtric, no reckless rescue ideas on your own. If I were you, the first thing I would want to do after leaving this room is to run to the horses and ride to her. Don’t do that! Stick to the plan!”

Sihtric looked up at Uhtred surprise evident in his eyes at how well he understood the wild turmoil of emotions consuming him, and simply nodded in agreement.

The next two days were an agonizing torment, the hardest Sihtric had ever faced. The weight of uncertainty had already been unbearable while waiting in Winchester, but now, knowing your location and that you had given birth to his children only to be left alone in a Danish camp, it was as if his heart had been torn apart, leaving him on the brink of losing all composure. He tried to hold on, to stay strong for the plan they had painstakingly crafted and discussed with Uhtred countless times, but the agony of fear of what might be happening to you were almost overwhelming.

The nights were the cruellest as he lay in bed, restlessly tossing and turning, dreading to fall asleep. While awake, he managed, with enormous effort of will, to keep his emotions and anxiety under control, but he couldn't control his dreams. Each time he closed his eyes and sleep finally overtook him, he was haunted by the same dreadful dream. In the dream, he was always searching for you amidst the ruins of a devastated and half-burned camp. Torn tents and overthrown wagons surrounded him. Among the debris and lifeless bodies, he called out your name in despair, but there was no answer—only silence and the suffocating realization that he had come too late, that he had failed to reach you in time. The weight of his failure and helplessness consumed him, and he would wake up a scream clawing its way from his throat, his heart pounding in his chest, and his forehead drenched in sweat.

Sihtric was a warrior and no stranger to death. He had faced it time and again on the battlefield. He had killed men, seen the life drain from their eyes, and heard the chilling sounds of war echoing in his mind. He had endured nightmares, especially after the battles, when the sounds of swords and axes clashing, the battering of shields, and the cries of the wounded still echoed in his mind. Yet, nothing had ever filled him with such deep fear and despair as this. The pain of not knowing your fate, the torment of feeling powerless to protect you, this was an anguish unlike any other. It filled him with a sense of angst and despair that cut deeper than any blade ever could.

Finally, the day of departure came. Uhtred had gathered all his men in the bustling marketplace, strategically choosing this location so that as many people as possible could witness them leaving. He hoped that among the curious crowd there might be spies from Heasten’s camp who would deliver a message confirming that they were leaving Winchester and Wessex. Uhtred casted a worried glance at Sihtric, who sat in the saddle with a pale and tense face, dark rings around his eyes. He knew Sihtric was keeping himself up in the saddle with the last remnants of his strength. Finan and Osfert had positioned their horses on both sides of their friend ready to offer support and keep their fiend steady. And so, they set off.

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The camp had suddenly erupted into a state of frenzy, resembling a startled anthill. There was a palpable anxiety in the air, but no one bothered to inform you of what was happening. Preoccupied with your two babies, you had resigned yourself to the fate of being a prisoner. Escape had never been an option, not when you were pregnant, and certainly not now with two infants in your arms. You had your children; they were healthy and strong, and this was all that mattered at the moment. There was nothing more important than to take care of them and wait for Sihtric to find you. That was something you never once doubted. You firmly believed that nothing in the world could prevent your husband from finding you. So, you waited.

“There she is. Not the youngest anymore, but still pretty. She was a whore. Must have been a damn good one, as one of her clients married her,” the tent flaps were suddenly thrust open, and there stood Heasten, accompanied by another man.

“I don’t want money for the pups, consider them as a bonus. You can never know whether they will survive,” he continued, and your eyes grew wide as you suddenly understood what was going on.

“You, heartless bastard! You are not selling me!” you shouted at him, your voice filled with a potent mix of fury and fear.

“Of course, I am. What did you think?” Heasten callously replied, “We are marching to battle, and you are nothing but a burden. I would have sold you before, but no one is willing to pay for a slave who might die in childbirth within a couple of weeks,” Heasten’s narrow eyes gleamed with malicious light while his words only fuelled your desperation, and in a moment of rage, you lunged at him, attempting to scratch out his eyes with your nails. However, Heasten effortlessly overpowered you, seizing both your hands and ruthlessly throwing you to the ground.

“Look at the little bitch, how strong and fierce she is. She will last long,” he taunted, addressing the other man and pointing his finger at you, lying on the ground, suffocating with tears.

“Please don’t do it!” you begged, tiers rolling down your cheeks. “I am begging you, please have mercy. You don’t have to take us with you. Just leave us here in the woods.”

“And lose silver this man is ready to pay for you?” Heasten smirked, turning away. Both men left your tent, leaving you crying on the ground. A suffocating mix of helplessness, anger and fear overwhelmed you, curling in your stomach and spreading throughout your body. Your hands trembled as you pulled your hair and screamed, releasing all your despair. “Sihtric,” you whimpered through your sobs, “Where are you? Why haven’t you found us?”

A terrifying thought washed over you instantly. “Is he still alive?” You had never doubted it for a single moment before. You were so certain that nothing would prevent your husband from finding and rescuing you, whatever the cost, except for one single thing - his own death. The horrifying feeling that had found its way into your heart grew stronger with each moment you dwelled on it. More than half a year had passed since you last heard from Sihtric before you left to visit your sister, and another two months had gone by in Heasten's camp. What if you were never to see him again? What if the only person in this lonely world whom you loved more than your own life was gone?

It felt as if the light had been withdrawn from the world around you, leaving you in a cold, dark, eternal night. Shadows crept from the corners of the tent, enveloping you, embracing you, and swallowing you from all sides.

"No!" you screamed, tears streaming down your face. "It is not true! I would have felt it! The bond between us is too strong; if he were to die, I would have felt it," you shouted at yourself, refusing to believe the horrifying thought that had taken hold of you, but shadows seemed to tighten their grip, making it hard for you to shake off the dreadful fear that had engulfed your heart. You remained crouched on the ground, crying out your helplessness.

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They had ridden the whole night and the following day with maddening speed, pushing both horses and riders to the verge of exhaustion. The previous day, one of the boys spying in Heasten's camp had brought the devastating news that Heasten was almost ready to march and that a message had been sent to Beamfleot, inviting slavers to the camp. As the grim reality settled upon them, the men gathered around the flickering flames exchanged worried glances, their eyes eventually turning to Sihtric. Without a word spoken, he rose to his feet with a resolute look in his eyes and began packing his belongings. In that moment, there was no chaos or panic, not even a haste or commotion in his actions, only a steeliness and a firm determination.

The mere thought that his wife and children were about to be sold as slaves sent a sharp, physical pain coursing through Sihtric's body. It was unbearable. You had already endured enough suffering before he took you away from your life as a whore in a tavern. All Sihtric had ever wanted was to cherish and protect you, to surround you with a shield of his love and care like a soft, comforting blanket, helping you forget your painful past. To him, you were his missing piece, the one who completed him and gave a new purpose to his life. Thoughts of you, your image in his mind, were what fuelled him to survive battle after battle, fighting like a madman, all driven by the one single desire – to return home to you and sink into your arms, knowing that you loved and accepted him unconditionally, just as he loved and accepted you.

He had promised you that he would never let you suffer again, and yet he found himself unable to keep that promise. The weight of this failure, shame and embarrassment had consumed Sihtric’s mind all this time, but now in this very moment there was no room for such emotions, neither for the anxiety nor the fear that had haunted him in the past days. They were all gone, replaced by pure, seething anger that coursed through his vanes, bringing a frightening calmness and composure to him. It was a feeling he knew so well, one that came to him so often amid a battle, when chaos engulfed everything around him. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only one singular purpose in his mind—to fight, to survive. Only this time, there was another driving force propelling him, yet the empowering sensation of being capable of anything, of being unstoppable, remained unchanged.

No one attempted to speak to him or dissuade him. Words were unnecessary; everyone understood that if the captives at Heasten's camp were to be sold as slaves, the chances of ever finding them again would be close to non-existent. Determination etched on his face, Sihtric mounted his horse and cast one last look at the camp, searching for Uhtred with his eyes He didn't want a permission to leave; nothing Uhtred could say or do would stop him. He only hoped for a reassuring glance or nod from his Lord, signalling that the rest of the men would follow the plan as intended. To his astonishment, he saw ten mounted warriors ready to depart, their expressions mirroring his own stern determination.

“Lord?” Sihtric’s voice was hoarse as he looked at Uhtred, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

“Did you really think we’d let you leave without us?” Uhtred responded with a smirk, spurring his horse.

With not enough horses for everyone, the other men would follow on foot, without rest. This was a desperate race against time. They knew they would be tired and hungry when they reached Heasten's camp, likely unfit for battle. The only advantage they could hope for was the element of surprise if the news of Uhtred's pretended departure to Bebbanburg had reached Heasten. Despite the odds stacked against them, not a single man objected to the mad plan.

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As the evening started approaching, you were packed onto wagons with other women and children, bound for a clearing somewhere between the camp and the next city, rumoured to be Beamfleot, as you had overheard from the conversations of other women in the camp. It took a few hours before reaching the clearing, where you were forced to leave the wagons and herded into a small paddock. In the distance, you could see wagons with metal cages, an ominous sight that sent a chill down your spine.

The captives around you were mostly women and children from nearby villages, taken by the Danes during the latest raids. A kind young woman offered to help you carry one of your children and reluctantly you agreed. Exhausted and emotionally drained, you had no more tears left to cry. You were ready to embrace the unknown fate whatever it will bring with a stern determination not to allow it to break you. You will survive, and you will endure. Your children depended on you, and you were determined to be strong for them. There was no room left for self-pity. As you looked around at the other girls, children and women torn away from their homes and families, your heart ached for them. Some were crying, while others wore a stoic, indifferent expression, concealing their inner terror. The atmosphere was heavy with fear and uncertainty as everyone grappled with the terrifying prospect of what awaited them. And deep inside you knew that you were better prepared for this ordeal than any of them.

You watched as several men arrived with Heasten, engaged in a heated argument. Their wild gestures and animated discussions pointed towards the paddock, and it became clear they were bargaining over the captives. After a short moment Heasten nodded to his warriors, and the wooden gate creaked open. The captives were dragged out one by one, forced before the slavers, and then herded towards the waiting wagons. The scene was a nightmare of angst and desperation, with women and children crying, some attempting to resist, only to be met with merciless force and being knocked to the ground and dragged further, their pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt a mixture of fury and helplessness, witnessing the depths of human cruelty and being unable to do anything about it. You felt sick and dizzy, reduced to a mere commodity, traded and sold as an object.

“Don’t hit them in the face, you idiots!” one of the slavers shouted. “I will not pay for a single bitch with a broken nose!”

The warrior, who had just knocked down a screaming and crying mess of a young woman, casted an annoyed look at the slaver, seized her by her hair and began to drag her along the ground. He managed to do just a few steps before he suddenly froze with a look of complete bewilderment in his eyes that instantly changed to a grimace of pure fear as he released the woman’s hair, fell to his knees, and collapsed face-first into the mud, an axe protruding from his back. The woman sensing the grip on her hair loosen scrambled to her feet, letting out a piercing scream of terror at the sight of the dead warrior behind her.

In that very moment an absolute chaos engulfed the scene. Women and children cried out in fear, slavers run to their wagons and tried to jump onto them, frantic commands filling the air. Heasten and his warriors yelled at each other, attempting to form a makeshift shield wall to protect themselves from the sudden threat that had appeared out of nowhere. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make sense of the unbelievable scene unfolding before your eyes. Who were these attackers? Was it the long-awaited rescue you had desperately hoped for? The thought filled you with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Your gaze darted around, searching for familiar faces in this chaotic turmoil.

Your eyes widened in a mix of hope and disbelief as you recognized Uhtred and Finan charging into the fray. With swords drawn, they, along with a handful of other men, smashed into the small shield wall that Heasten's warriors had desperately attempted to build. They broke through it with little effort. The suddenness of the assault had left Heasten and his men stunned and almost paralyzed, catching them off guard, with waves of fear rippling through their ranks.

As the battle raged around you, your heart pounded in your chest, and your breath came in shallow gasps. You frantically scanned the clearing, desperately searching for the one man you wanted to see most, the man who meant everything to you. Your heart almost froze in your breast as you couldn’t find him and you felt the dark shadows of doubt seizing you with their cold hands, threatening to suffocate you. All those evil whispers that had found their way into your thoughts this morning and that you had tried to ban, were back again, taunting you, telling you that your hopes were in vain, that he was gone, that he couldn't possibly be there to rescue you. The weight of uncertainty threatened to overwhelm you, and you felt your strength faltering. You sank to your knees, holding your child close, feeling the world collapsing around you and then you saw him. You saw Sihtric – your husband, your love – amidst the chaos and the battle. Relief washed over you like a tidal wave, and tears of joy streamed down your cheeks as you realized that he was alive, and he had come for you. In that moment, everything else faded away. The battle still raged around you, but all that mattered was the sight of your husband, the man who had promised to protect you, who had vowed to be by your side always. He was here, and nothing else in the world could compare to the overwhelming feeling of love and gratitude that filled your heart.

Your eyes remained fixed on Sihtric, and what you saw left you breathless. His face contorted with primal fury, he screamed incomprehensibly as he moved with a deadly precision, swinging his battle axe like a force of nature, leaping from one warrior to another. It seemed as if the god of war himself had descended upon that small clearing, delighting in each death he dealt to those who dared to challenge him and threaten what he cherished most.

The efficiency of his movements was awe-inspiring, driven by a mixture of raw power and madness that you had never witnessed before. You had always known that Sihtric was a warrior, that he was killing people if it came to a battle, but this had always been far away from you. It was just a distant knowledge with no real substance. Now, it was all too real, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from the terrifying, yet captivating sight of your husband in his element. His eyes glinted with the thrill of killing, a side of him you had never experienced, that you had never known it even existed.

As the battle gradually subsided, Uhtred's men swiftly seized the few surviving and surrendering warriors, including Heasten himself.

With a loud groan, Sihtric yanked his axe free from the fallen enemy's back. His gaze swept the area, searching for any remaining threat. Sihtric's breath were ragged and uneven, his body tense with adrenaline as he stood amidst the aftermath of the short battle, blood and mud covering his handsome face, his hair matted and dishevelled. His hands, gripping the handle of his war axe, trembled slightly, the knuckles turning white from the strain. In this very moment he was a predator seeking for his next prey, his eyes shining with anticipation and deadly precision, but there was nobody left in the small clearing, so his war axe remained lowered near his side as his eyes finally found you on your knees in the paddock pressing your daughter to your chest, while the woman holding your son stood next to you with absolute terror in her gaze.

As his eyes fell upon you, everything shifted. Sihtric’s face turned pale as he instantly recognised you. The layers of battle-hardened resolve melted away, revealing the raw emotion of a man who had feared the worst and now found the love of his life before him. The mad enraged look in his eyes faded instantly and turned into painful mixture of fear, anxiety, unending love and tenderness, his hands letting loose the handle of his war axe as he run towards you. His eyes never leaving you, he rushed to your side and dropped to his knees, taking hold of your face in his trembling hands and lifting your head to meet his eyes, his dirt-covered hand gently caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears that had mingled with the dirt on your face. Cupping your face gently, he showered you with tender kisses, tracing every inch of your cheeks, nose, and forehead as if reassuring himself that you were real and unharmed.

"I found you, my love, I finally found you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion, “I am so sorry that you had to endure this. I was so afraid that I have lost you. I …” his voice broke and for a moment he was unable to say anything, emotions overwhelming him and tears welling up in his eyes as he looked down at the small bundle in your hands.

“Gods, … is it true? Is it … ?,” he managed to whisper, “May I? …Would you let me? Please…” his words were a fragile plea, his voice trembling in anticipation and fear you might refuse him, deny him this simple happiness of holding his child. You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man before you, as you gently extended your arms toward him, giving your silent consent and placing the fragile frame of your daughter into Sihtric’s arms. His eyes lit up with an indescribable happiness, his trembling hands carefully accepting the small bundle, cradling your daughter against his chest as if she were the most precious treasure in the world.

“Gods… I don’t deserve this,” he murmured, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I don’t deserve you,” he breathed barely audible looking into your eyes. There was no need for words, as his eyes were speaking for themselves. The fear of losing you, the happiness of being allowed to hold his new-born child in his arms, the endless love and tenderness, the uncertainly of the future and the silent plea for forgiveness mixed with pure bliss, an overwhelming sense of gratitude and wonder at this moment all mirrored in his gaze as you leaned in to kiss him, dismissing all his doubts, all his fears and insecurities. Your kiss gently brushed against his lips like a fresh breath of the wind, it conveyed more than words ever could—a profound reassurance that you loved him unconditionally, and that he was deserving of your love and all the happiness in this world.

“I love you so much,” Sihtric whispered, holding your daughter tightly, every breath in his body radiating a promise to protect and cherish you, knowing that he had found his true purpose in life—to love and be loved by you.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

#sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric fic #tlk #the last kingdom #tlk fic #sihtric x you

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darkestspring · 1 year

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second time is the charm

a/n: welcome to my extremely self indulgent hour. due to my current aegon i love hour, ive decided to create a little something. so i made an oc who takes the place of aegon i’s third wife who reincarnates as alicent’s second daughter then has to go through being obsessed over again and goes “well shit.”

@frankcastleonlyfans this is part one of my special project but im??? so excited, i ended up choosing the name Daella and im so excited for this aaaaaa

Aegon had three sister-wives. He married Visenya for Duty, Rhaenys for Desire and Daella for Love.

He had loved Daella Targaryen so much as to sire several children with her, he feared for her safety just the same.

Purple eyes stared at the words written on the page with a troubled look on her face.

Daella Targaryen, third of her name, daughter of King Viserys I and Queen Alicent, stared up at the tree shading her. She was still attempting to grasp into the fact even thought she was nearing her seventh name day.

She strained to believe why her soul had come back to life. The last thing she recalled was dying in Aegon’s arms, at peace with her fate and then she woke up as a baby in her mother’s arms as she sobbed with relief.

She was almost stillborn, a miracle. The maesters told her.

My special girl. Her mother had cooed at her with softness as she cradled her.

Cursed. Daella had thought.

“Dae?” A voice called out to her as she paused her reminiscing of the past which was long gone. She turned her face to lock eyes with familiar purple eyes.

Ah. Yes, Daella was not an only child. In fact, she was the youngest girl of five children. In this life, she possessed two older brothers, Aegon and Aemond, an older sister, Helaena. And her younger brother, Daeron.

Not to mention her older half-sister, Rhaenyra.

“Dae?” The voice repeated and she shook out of her own thoughts, it would do no good to keep herself locked in her thoughts.

“Aemond.” She smiled at him as she moved over. “Come sit with me and tell me what you wish to say.” Her mind flashed back to times where she would spend afternoons with her head in Visenya’s lap.

Aemond walked closer to her and sat next to her. He studied her for a few minutes in silence before looking down at his hands. “Mother asked me to come get you. For afternoon tea.”

Ah, yes. The afternoon tea. The only time her mother could interrogate her without suspicion. Of course, it wasn’t just her. Her grandfather would insist on hearing her doings. What she read, what she did, who she spoke to.

Exhausting. All too familiar.

“Sister, please don’t love anyone but me.” The familiar voice of her brother, Aegon I reverberated in her ears. She still remembered it so clearly. How he held her wrist as he suffocated her with his affection.

“Let’s stay here for a moment longer.” Daella insisted, drowning from the feeling of deja vu. She moved to rest her head on Aemond’s shoulder, her eyes closing. “Do you ever wish to fly away?”

“Sometimes.” Aemond replied, looking down at his younger sister. “I’d be way too sad if you flew away. I’d die of a broken heart. You make everything okay, sister.”

It was times like these that he and her new elder brother, Aegon II reminded her of Aegon I, Visenya, and Rhaenys.

It wasn’t just them. It would be easier if it was two, this time it was worse. Her half-sister, her uncle, her father, her nephews. The possessiveness and obsession, the paranoia and inclination towards violence where it concerned her, it was everywhere.

It was worse within her uncle Daemon, he had killed her first guard out of jealousy because she had ignored him and talked to her guard.

It was always like that. Too much violence, too much paranoia. Too much exhaustion.

“I heard that Uncle Daemon is flying in today.” Aemond remarked, glancing down at her. “For dinner.”

It was enough to make her stiffen, Daella removed herself from Aemond, much to his disappointment, and got up after grabbing her book.

“We mustn’t be late for tea.” She murmured, her voice quiet and purple eyes glancing at him before walking forward. “Come, big brother.”

Aemond, like he had done since the day she turned two, followed after her with haste.

Daella Targaryen, third of her name, had seen this happen once before and now she only felt dread. She would proceed with caution. Extreme caution for the wellbeing of westeros depended on it.

King Aegon had loved Queen Daella too much, some would say. He loved her like the sun loved the moon, too fervently. It was rumored that Queen Visenya and Queen Rhaenys had loved her just as much.

Some say that you could still feel their love when you walked through Daella’s Garden.

#yandere house of the dragon #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere aegon targaryen #yandere aegon i targaryen #yandere alicent hightower #yandere hotd #HELLO TO MY SELF INDULGENT HOURS. THIS FIRST PART IS MAINLY AEMOND AND ITS PRETTY TAME AT THIS POINT #BUT IM SO READY FOR THE FUCKERY TO BEGIN #EVERYONE GOES FERAL #E V E R Y O N E #now onto my other requests and drafts

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rose-tinted-vision · 22 days

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Fic: 只为他袖手天下 | For him, I can renounce the world

Fandom: White Cat Legend (大理寺少聊游）

Relationship: Qiu Qingzhi/Li Bing, Qiu Qingzhi & Yi Zhi Hua

Summary:

“I wonder what happened to you, for you to become like this?” You. Qiu Qingzhi thinks. You.

In which Qiu Qingzhi would do anything to keep the one he loves safe, even if it means ruining himself.

[read it on ao3] | also why isn't QQZ/LB a tag on ao3...

“Li Bing’s funeral procession got attacked on its way out of the city,” his men hurriedly reports, and Qiu Qingzhi’s blood runs cold. He needs to make sure that Li Bing is okay, he needs to know who it is who dared to attack the one he loves, he needs vengeance, he needs—

He digs his nails into his palms to center himself, forcing his mind to focus instead of jumping to conclusions. He is now a General, he has dozens of men at his disposal– but that would only put Li Bing in danger, if he mobilised so many men for him– it would only turn the attention of the Yong’an Elders onto him.

A pair of wild green eyes flashes across his memory, those words thrown around so confidently, “my blood can extend your life, so that you’ll never die!”

Yi Zhi Hua can help, he desperately thinks. He does not know what that demon finds so interesting in him, does not know if he would even answer the call, but it is the only idea he can think of.

Qiu Qingzhi drags his palm across his blade, ignoring the sting as he waits for what feels like eternity in the few seconds it takes for the demon to arrive.

His blood sings with the need to destroy, to crush whoever dared to insult Mr Li’s name.

“No,” he snatches his hand back as Yi Zhi Hua reaches for it, “help me to find someone. Kill the people attacking him, revive him, if he’s dead.”

“Why would I do that?” the damned cat says, though his eyes sharpen with interest, Qiu Qingzhi notes. He would be, it is the first time he has reached out to the other, instead of waiting for the demon to approach him out of boredom.

“Help me, and I'll play your game. I'll help you to find what you are looking for, or catch you again, whatever it is you wanted.”

“Qiu Qingzhi, begging for help! I’ll remember this day!” Yi Zhi Hua sneers, “Alright, since you asked so nicely, who is it?”

—

Please be okay, Qiu Qingzhi begs, spurring his horse to go as fast as she could– he would spoil her rotten later in apology– he can only pin his hopes on a flighty demon now, hope that his bargain was alluring enough for him to uphold his end of the deal.

He has not felt so afraid before. Qiu Qingzhi, who has been on multiple battlefields, who had to learn how to survive on the streets, who had fought and captured a feral demon cat, has never felt such all-encompassing fear before.

Fear that he would arrive to see Li Bing already dead, killed alongside the rest of the procession, or Li Bing with his neck slit open by the damn cat. It was a damn near suffocating fear, choking him from the inside out.

(Never did he imagine that he would see a white cat).

Qiu Qingzhi feels like throwing up.

He had asked for Yi Zhi Hua to save Li Bing, had not questioned his methods in his desperation for Li Bing to just be alive.

“Oh? How interesting, that’s a new expression, I haven’t seen that one before!”

Distantly, his alarm bells are going off– warning him that he is revealing too much in front of this demon, that this would one day come back to bite him– but he finds his composure slipping away until he is grasping at nothing, too distraught at the sight of the unconscious cat in front of him.

What has he done to his friend?

He had been so desperate to cling onto the silver of light in his life that he essentially ruined Li Bing. The only person who ever saw him as anything other than a slave, the only person who has shown him unfaltering kindness, who provided him with a shelter over his head.

He hears the demon scurrying off, crowing in delight at the discoveries he has made tonight, and still Qiu Qingzhi can only stare at the vulnerable state of his friend, whose fur was as white as his hair. So white that he nearly blends in with the snow falling around them.

Hair that had turned white prematurely– all because Qiu Qingzhi had been too late, too weak, too slow to protect Mr Li.

But because he is General Qiu, commander of the Jinwu guards and currently the fixation of a wild demon cat, Qiu Qingzhi composes himself with a shaky breath. He would have preferred to sit here and wait until Li Bing woke up and explain himself to the other, but he had summons that could not be ignored, and men to command.

(He had already revealed too much by running off at first sight of the news).

Qiu Qingzhi allows himself one last glance at Li Bing, and turns to leave.

His stomach churns with guilt as he makes his way back. Guilt that he was leaving Li Bing all alone in that state, guilt that he was all alone in this world now, guilt at his selfish relief that Li Bing was still alive, despite it all.

The urge to turn back and scoop the white cat into his arms and bring him back with him was overpowering. But he was under heavy scrutiny from Yong’an, and there were many who coveted his position, others who would stop at nothing to bring him down. He could not allow that, not with the Li family in ruins and Li Bing so vulnerable. Qiu Qingzhi would get to the bottom of this– the Zixu war, Yi Zhi Hua’s origins, and the extermination of the Li family– he owed as much to Li Bing and his father.

(He needed more power, if he wanted to be able to protect Li Bing).

---

@randomingoftherandomness - thank you for introducing me to this show and this ship haha

@wuxia-vanlifer - I finished the show!!! :>

#thoughts were being thunk about the entire...#how yzh turned lb into a cat thing #could be platonic if you close one eye #ok im too tired to write anything else in the tags #no thoughts head empty #white cat legend #rose writes #大理寺少聊游

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littlegodzilla · 2 years

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New chapter from Your Name!!

Enjoy!!

Your Name Masterlist

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Your Name.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Mini series. Chapter 9.

Warnings: Nightmares. Confessions. A little fluff. TWD gore.

Words: 2830.

Summary: Daryl and Carol talk and Daryl makes a confession...

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @thefemininemystiquee @green-eyedladywrites @hail-yourselves @ruinedbythehobbit @xxtinasxxblog @ravenwings73 @spenciepoo338 @b-tchymoon @minervadashwood @darylssluttt @let-love-bleeds-red

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Unfortunately things only go from bad to worse. Even with Daryl injured, he tries to help you use his knife, to learn how to defend yourself, he lends you his crossbow to practice your aim, but you're not too good at it either. However something has changed in your dynamic, his insults and words towards you are no longer hurtful, he's just trying to tease you and get on your nerves.

Two days of peace and quiet settles over the camp until Glenn tells the goup that there are Walkers in the barn and everything goes to shit once again. Rick wants to talk to Hershel to decide what to do, Shane wants to take the law into his own hands and kill them all before they escape and eat you alive. Everything turns to chaos again, you are sick of this situation, you just want to find Sophia and get out of there, go to Fort Benning or anywhere else, you don't care, but you can't stand this situation any longer.

Your wrist is a little better, the medication that Glenn brings almost every day helps to relieve the pain, but you don't want to take off the bandage, with your arm covered you can now wear short sleeve shirts and you are grateful for it, the heat is starting to be suffocating and you have never been his friend.

You are sitting in the caravan looking out into the haystack, keeping watch, as the others do. You gasp in surprise when you feel a weight next to you and hands squeeze your tits over your shirt.

"I missed them..." He whispers in your ear and when you look at the reflection in the window you see Merle behind you.

You turn quickly and open your eyes feeling shaken, there is no one with you, you are alone in the caravan. You try to calm down while squeezing your wrist, you have hurt yourself by moving abruptly and now it feels like it's burning. You mumble under your breath still feeling your heart flutter, the last thing you need right now is to have strange dreams about the eldest Dixon.

"Are you okay?" Dale's voice makes you look up at the roof of the trailer. "You sounded like you were having a bad dream."

"I'm sorry, Dale, it was...I'm sorry." You mumble again and step out of the caravan to get some air.

***

"Look, I found more." Daryl says to Carol taking her to the side of the lake near the Greene family home.

They are the same flowers he brought her to the trailer one day to lift her spirits, she knows he's just trying to ease her pain, but at the same time Carol remembers the conversation she had with you.

"Why are you doing this? I've been meaning to ask you for a long time..."

"Because I keep believing that she's out there... that we're gonna find her." He smiles a little, glancing sideways at her.

"She thinks you're doing it for me." She changes the conversation and when she says your name, Daryl looks at her in fright. "She thinks we're linked or something." She shrugs caressing the flower petals. Daryl watches her chewing his lip and mutters low.

"Ya've seen the name on my chest." He says understanding what this is all about.

"I didn't mean to look, but you were so hurt and..." she tries to apologize, but Daryl shakes his head.

"Ain't mad, and I'm doing it for the group, Sophia's just a kid, she has a lot of living to do yet... we can't accept that she's just gone." He shrugs, lowering his head. "Have ya told her?"

"No, that doesn't belong to me to tell." She looks at him. "I don't know what you're waiting for if you both know your fate, but I guess with this whole situation..."

"She doesn't know I'm wearing her name on my skin." He cuts her off and Carol looks at him in surprise. "She doesn't know that I do know what she's hiding...and I understand her shame."

"Daryl..."

"But it's okay, I dun care, I'll let her find someone who really deserves her."

"Is that why she was traveling with you?"

"I wanted to take her to a place where she could be taken care of and forget about me...the Dixons, Merle didn't put much into it, but he's still a Dixon..."

"Daryl..." She tries not to get emotional, but no doubt that man is a much better person than she thought he was when she first met him.

"Can you keep it a secret from me? I know it's a shitty secret, but... I don't want her to know." He looks at her without stopping chewing on his lip, Carol sighs and nods.

"Sure, like I told you, it doesn't belong to me to tell her."

Sophia was in the haystack, along with all the Walkers that Hershel and his family were taking care of, Shane and the others have opened fire on all of them until the girl appears and you all freeze.

You can't stop crying, it hurts you to know that you can't do anything for her anymore, that Carol has lost her little girl, that Daryl almost died for nothing. The pain and shock shakes you all, the group and the family who have seen how their people have been massacred without compassion by people they know nothing about.

You hear a loud noise in the kitchen, Beth has collapsed on the floor like a sack, the shock that runs through her prevents her from moving and reacting, Maggie is afraid that something serious will happen to her, Patricia starts an IV to keep her hydrated, but they need Hershel, and the man has disappeared.

"Maybe he's gone down to town...he's been sober for years and now..." Maggie stammers in fear.

"We'll go look for him." Glenn assures her. "This is all our fault, we'll bring him back home to help Beth." He promises Maggie and Rick nods.

"We'll be back as soon as possible."

"Be careful, things are getting really weird out here." You tell them looking around the camp suspiciously. "I don't trust Shane."

"If anything happens, warn Daryl..."

That's another part of the problem, Daryl has separated himself from the group, the loss of Sophia, has affected him more than you thought it would and he's pulled away from the group, your first instinct was to go with him, but Daryl didn't want to be with anyone, so you gave him the space he was asking for.

What you weren't willing to accept was the way he treated Carol when she went to talk to him. Lori had asked him for help, but he had refused and Carol wanted to know what was happening to him.

"Sophia wasn't mine!" he shouts choleric and makes a threatening gesture towards Carol, the woman shrinks back fearing a blow and you can't take it anymore.

"Daryl, stop it!" you interject, pushing Carol away from him. "May I ask what's wrong with you?"

"I'm sick of having to explain myself for everything! Leave me alone!" he yells again and you look at Carol, she nods walking away, leaving you two alone.

"Daryl, listen to me, they're worried about you, you're part of the group and you..."

"I'm part of the group? Is that what you think?" He walks towards you with a threatening gesture. "I'm just their dog that sniffs out their clues."

"That's not true, Daryl; Rick trusts you, more than Shane, he's followed your every lead and ignored his best friend's craziness."

"Because Shane can't be trusted, we all know that, he went crazy as soon as Rick showed up at the camp."

"That's why this group needs you, Daryl, you're part of them." You hold his arm so he looks at you, he's nervous and anxious, there's too much going on that he can't control. "Carol appreciates you, she loves you, don't take her away from you." You smile stroking his arm, staring at him. "I appreciate you, don't take us away from you, please." You ask him once more and kiss him on the cheek before turning around and heading back to camp with the others.

The hunter stands there watching you slowly walk away, he feels his cheek burning where you kissed him. He snorts, trying to put his thoughts in order. No one had ever depended on him like this before, first Dale, Lori, Carol and now you, he's not meant to lead anyone, he's always been a follower, even if the decisions were bad, wrong, he had always blindly followed his brother and his friends, and now, for the first time, someone expects him to take part in the decisions, to be one more, not a hound. He sits beside his tent and presses his hands against his face.

What can he do, should he really have gone after Rick, should he really have listened to Lori?

His head is full of doubts.

***

However the next day he shows up at the meeting inside the Greene's house, Rick and Glenn have returned with Hershel, but not just him, they have also brought a young boy with a leg in very bad shape. There are several ideas about the young man, what they should do with him, Dale thinks they have lost their minds completely, Rick wants to know if his people are dangerous, how many they may be and what their intentions are. Hershel allows you to stay inside the house, which is a big step, the man has realized he was wrong and regrets having Sophia in the haystack, even if he didn't know it. Plus you all find out that Lori is pregnant and Hershel insists that she gets her room so she's comfortable. Daryl for his part still prefers to stay outside in his tent.

Daryl joins the group again, as if nothing has happened, you don't know if he has apologized to Carol or not, but they seem to be okay again and that comforts you. That same afternoon, Rick and the rest are still making plans on how to deal with Randal's people in case they go after him, Daryl is the one in charge of getting the information out of the kid and you have to admit you get a weird feeling when you see him show up with his knuckles full of blood.

You're angry that he's just a kid, but at the same time you like seeing him with that serious gesture, the clenched jaw, that evil side that Daryl doesn't really possess.

"How long has it been since you've been with a guy?" Maggie asks you suddenly. You're in the kitchen of the house preparing something to eat for everyone.

"What, why do you say that?" You look at her confused, although if you have to think about it, it's been several months since you were last with a guy.

"I saw the way you were looking at Daryl this morning." She teases giving you a little nudge.

"I wasn't looking at Daryl in any way. He's overdoing it with Randal, he's just a kid..."

"Why don't you talk to Daryl and make merry," He cuts you off and you feel your cheeks turn red.

"Maggie!" You punch her in the arm as she won't stop laughing.

"I don't think this is the time for that, we're all on edge, things are very tense, we don't know what's going to happen and..."

"And that's why you should seize every moment."

"Like you with Glenn?" you joke and she looks around in case her father is nearby.

"Shut up, but yeah, exactly like that, if you need to..."

"Girls, stop whispering and help me with dinner, please." Intervenes Carol who has an amused smile on her face. "But if you want my opinion, Maggie's right."

"Carol, not you too!" you protest, but all three of you end up laughing.

***

It's hard to explain what you are seeing now, the whole barn in flames, a horde of Walkers entering the flames, the farm being surrounded by death and you struggling to survive once again. In the end Randal was not the problem that triggered that chaos, but Shane's madness, his anger and jealousy, made him dangerous and now you all pay the consequences. Daryl takes the lead for a second ordering you all to take the cars to get out of there, looking for a route to get back to the road. You split into small groups, but quickly find yourselves surrounded by the infected. You fight with all your might, moving nimbly as you use Daryl's knife to fight your way through the zombies. In the distance you hear the roar of a motorcycle and run towards the road.

"Daryl!" you shout to get his attention.

"Come on!" he urges you as he pulls up beside you and you jump on the bike.

You hold tightly to his waist as he speeds away from there leaving the farmhouse to be consumed in flames. You lean against Daryl's back as you ride away, back to square one, back to the fear, back to the uncertainty of what will happen, back to the constant worry that danger is too close. You press yourself tighter against him, for a moment you had thought that you would stop running away, that you would finally have found a safe place, but no. You are not. Daryl gives you a sidelong glance but doesn't stop until you reach the road and meet up with the others.

"I'm glad you're all okay." You say hugging the rest of the group.

"What are we going to do now?" Glenn wants to know.

"What happened with Shane?"

"We'll talk about it, but now is not the time. We'll grab everything we can and turn around, find a new shelter."

You don't seem convinced with his plan, but you have no better alternative, you take everything that is necessary, refuel the cars and the bike to continue your journey once again. The days become weeks, a journey that would be easy in another time, now is a real nightmare, you have to avoid the dead, the vehicles are running out of gas, you barely have enough to eat. Lori is getting more and more advanced in her pregnancy, rations are smaller, winter is approaching and you all need a roof to shelter under, but morale is low, tired, exhausted and hungry, only desperation moves you, besides knowing that all of you, somehow, are infected, does not reassure you either. You remember that you heard Merle talking about helicopters some time ago. I'm sure he smelled that charcoal already.

The fire is small, the cold starts to take hold of all of you. Daryl sits down next to you and carefully wraps his poncho around your body, trying to warm you up. You look up at him with a grateful smile and lean against his chest, he hides you under his clothes to keep you warm.

"Do you think Rick knows what he's doing?" You listen to Carol, you want to move, but Daryl squeezes you slyly and you stay in place.

"What are you talking about?"

"I know Shane was crazy, but...I don't know if Rick knows where he's taking us."

"I think he's trying to keep us safe, Lori's pregnant, a lot, I doubt Rick wants to be stumbling around on purpose." He tries to defend the Sheriff but Carol doesn't seem convinced. "What do you want from me, Carol?"

"Maybe you should propose a course, take the lead."

"Are you crazy? Rick is leading us, we trust him, I know he'll find a place where we can be safe." He growls looking at Carol with some annoyance, the woman looks down in embarrassment and walks away.

You smile against his chest, hidden under his poncho you snuggle a little closer, you feel Daryl's hands wrap around your waist and he pulls the poncho aside a little to look at you, you look at him sideways still smiling.

"Rick is a good man." You say. "And so are you."

"You okay in there?" you avoid answering, but nod.

"Thanks... winter's starting to get rough..." You murmur, the warmth his body gives off lulling you to sleep.

"Don't worry, we'll find a place before the colder months arrive." He promises you and as always you feel safe and protected.

You wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle against his chest once more. Daryl watches you feeling your own body warm from your closeness, he half smiles and strokes your cheek before pulling his poncho down once more, leaving you to sleep.

You wouldn't know what exactly has changed, but the days you spend wandering back and forth strengthen your relationship with Daryl, friendship or something else, you don't care anymore, you feel good when you're with him. Even Daryl seems more comfortable with you, you talk about many things to keep your mind busy, he keeps helping you to hunt, to use weapons. The complicity between you continues to grow. You don't want that to change, but at the same time you feel you must talk to him, you must tell him about his name on your arm, you must think about what you will do from then on, you need your anxiety and doubts to finally disappear.

To be continued...

***

Okay just one more chapter!!

I hope you enjoyed it!!

See you in the next and final chapter!!

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horrorblogafterhours · 5 months

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So tonight we're gonna talk about Japanese urban legends.

Let's get started with

Kuchisake-onna (Slit-Mouthed Woman).

If you are unlucky enough to meet Kuchisake-onna during a solitary stroll, she will ask you if you think she is beautiful. As with Aka Manto, consider your answer like your life depends on it (since it does). If you say no, she will immediately murder you with her scissors. If you say yes, she will remove her face covering to reveal a gaping mouth that has been slit from ear to ear in a haunting smile. Then, she will ask again: say 'no' and you die, but stick with 'yes' and she will slit your mouth like hers. The only way to escape Kuchisake-onna, is to tell her that she looks average

Teke Teke

Teke Teke is said to be the ghost of a woman or schoolgirl who fell on a railway line and was cut in half by an oncoming train. The vengeful spirit—outraged by her untimely death—now haunts urban areas and train stations at night. Since she no longer has legs, she drags herself on her hands and elbows, which produces a chilling “teke-teke” sound. Should you encounter Teke Teke, run! If the malicious spirit catches you, she will slice you in half with a scythe. Although she lacks legs, she is extremely fast, and has been known to keep up with cars. In some renditions of the story, she will ask you where her legs are, in which case you must reply “Meishin Expressway” in order to survive. In less hopeful iterations, your only chance of survival is to outrun her, which is completely impossible.

The Red Room Curse

For those reading these tales on your computer, this story is for you. The Red Room Curse is an internet-focused story that starts with an ominous pop-up. The pop-up features a red screen with black text that reads, “Do you like the red room?,” which is accompanied by a sinister pre-recorded voice asking the same question. No matter how many times you close the pop-up, it will continue to appear until the voice has finished its question. Afterward, your entire screen will turn red and become flooded with past victims’ names. No one knows what happens next, but the receivers of the pop-up are always found dead with their blood painting the walls red, creating the titular red room. Once you receive the pop-up, it is impossible to escape your fate

Momotarō – Arguably the most famous Japanese folktale, this is the quirky story of a boy born from a peach who was discovered by an old childless couple when they split the soft fruit open. Momotaro jumped out and was raised by the couple

Howling Inunaki Tunnel-The true mystery of Inunaki Village is whether or not it ever existed. Rumors of it have persisted in Japan and online since the 1990s. Supposedly located deep in the Inunaki countryside of Kyushu’s Fukuoka Prefecture, this abandoned village is said to only be accessible through Inunaki Tunnel. The stories say that all who enter the village are doomed to a violent death. These myths and tales also seem to mention that there is some sort of “official” sign stating, “The Japanese constitution is not in effect past here,” meaning all who enter are on their own to face the real or supernatural horrors that await.

Aka Manto- Aka Manto (red cloak) meets victims when they are most vulnerable: on the toilet. He wears a white mask and a long red cape. There are many variations to the legend. He holds red and blue toilet paper in some stories, but he’s only in his cape in others. However, he always asks the victim to choose a color: red or blue? Like Japan’s slit-faced woman asking, “Am I pretty?” it doesn’t matter what you answer because Aka Manto kills you regardless—choosing red rewards you with a stabbing, spilling your blood all over the stall. If you answer blue, Aka Manto either suffocates you or sucks out your blood, leaving you blue-faced and dead on the floor. So your best bet is to either ignore the fiend or run away.

Ok I think that's all for now. Hope you will all enjoy this.

#horrorblog78 #horrorblogafterhours #urban legends #Japanese urban legends

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dayslynthesix · 2 years

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after spain and monaco (and now fucking azerbaijan) I'm feeling a little bit dawn these days, and as someone who watch and support a lot of volleyball teams, i thought it would be incredible to match those two worlds

the prompt is pretty simple and I'm keeping it with charles, because c'mon, the man has been fighting his teammate, he's team, max, everything and everyone so the reader is a volleyball player, team captain of her team and the past seasons hasn't been great to her or her team so she knows what it feels to loose like that and after the awful strategy back at his home race, the reader says a couple of things she learned from the pro life of an athlete

a/n: this is just fictional, i wish things that are here were true but unfortunately the earth don't circle around me, just to clear a couple of things, this is not the first time i write something, but it's quite different to write in a clear pov and replace the clear pov to a y/n one, i keep just the y/n, choosing to give the last name (bishop), sorry about the spelling mistakes, english it's not my first language

charles leclerc x reader

pronouns: she/her/hers

Losing is part of the process | Charles Leclerc imagine

Monaco, 2022

it was late that night, the weather was warm but not suffocating, charles was back at his home after the race and press conference, he knew y/n was coming home, to him, after her night practice, they spoke briefly after the race and then he has to left to the interviews and she has to left to the gym, even though her season were already over. the knock on the door was soft, as everything was with her, y/n was a soft person, she knows exactly what to say to make people feel better, and as soon charles open the door she was holding him against her.

"im so sorry, bae..." she said in a calm voice, she knew he didn't wanted pity and even better, she knew how upset he was

"as i said, im getting used to coming back home disappointed after the race."

"you know its not your fault, right? you can't do everything alone, that why you have a whole team with you, they failed with you today, not the other way."

"yeah... they had failed a lot these days, i just can't understand why things keep going the wrong way, its so frustrating"

"i know, my love, i know, why don't we go to the living room so i can take a shower and then we can talk about it?"

"ok, i was waiting for you anyway" he gives you a soft kiss and went back to the couch, you could see the tv lights but there was no sound. you went for a quick shower and came back, charles was sitting on the floor, his back resting on the couch, you sit next to him and he immediately rested his head in your shoulder.

"do you remember last year season? we started winning every team, we barely lost a set?" he make a small sound just for you to know he knew about what you're talking about "and then, we lost, every game, we were hoping to others teams lose so we keep the lower half of the score, our opposite wasn't in the perfect connection with our setter, there was injuries, i was feeling my left knee... everything that could possibly go wrong was happening."

"yeah, i remember, you even considered moving to turkey or beach volley."

"yup, that's right. but out of the blue, we went to the kill-kill, and then the quarter finals, the semifinals, the final and when we thought it was over we won. it wasn't easy, but as a team we went against oir odds and make it."

"but that's because you're the best team captain in the world." he said and kissed you cheek

"that's not about me, its about team spirit, your team is letting you and carlos down, i know you're frustrated, pole position in spain and motor fail, pole position again here and they messed up the strategy. all I'm trying to say it is that tomorrow is a new day, there's a lot of new mountains for you to climb, but you're not alone, you know? im here with you, we lost and we win, its part of every sport."

"i know, i just want to feel the sadness for today, tomorrow its gonna be different."

Azerbaijan, 2022

charles didn't make a good start, perez was p1 before the first corner, then max take his p2, but a chaotic pit stop put him back in p1, everything was fine, until carlos hydraulic problem and until his car died, another motor fail, same one as spain. charles went back to the paddock, the first person he saw after the crew was y/n, she was wearing the ferrari merch, the red jerseys with his number on back, she was waiting for him. during summer break, every summer ever since they started dating she was with the team, watching every race, cheering him and all his friends, y/n was a sunlight at the ferrari garage.

"oh, love, im so so so sorry, i was hoping for the best"

"three times in a row, i think it should have an award for that" charles tried to make a joke, but you knew, you could feel the sadness and disappointment, "let me see mattia and carlos, I'll he right back"

after a quick talk to the chief, charles and carlos went back to where y/n was, she was still watching the race, way too concentrated. red bull went first and second, russell was p3, and considering george and charles were friends, y/n was really happy for him.

"carlitos, so sorry." y/n hugged carlos briefly and give him a soft smile

"thank you, y/n, next week is another week." carlos said and went to his room, awful day to be a ferrari driver and fan, charles needed to give a couple of interviews and as long as y/n was always walking around she take a time to congratulate the boys she was friends with, she saw lando first, he was with daniel, then lewis and george and finally pierre, the run into each other and y/n was shining in happiness for her boyfriend best friend and hers faithful horseman.

"pierre, I'm so happy for you, you deserved that"

"thank you, mini you, it was a great race, feels like i know what I'm doing again, im relieved. where my other half?"

"charles? interviews, were leading back to the hotel"

"tell him as soon as I leave here I'll go say hi. need to go, see ya" pierre kissed your temple and went to the alpha tauri motorhome and you lead back to the ferrari garage, charles was already back on his normal clothes.

"lets go?"

"yup, im ready, gasly said that he'll stop to say hi after the post racing"

you and charles walk to his car, it was parked close to a few journalists and photographers, you knew a couple of them and wave, charles give them a polite smile

"thank you for being here today, and last week, and next one..." he give you a soft kiss, the journalists went bananas with the public demonstration of affection, you and charles didn't hide your relationship, but you make it private, after his past relationships and people being around because the fame and the money, both of you deserves the privacy, none of the reporters went to you, or him, they just take a couple of pictures and focus on another thing to do.

"im your girl, leclerc, im always gonna be here, winning or losing"

"and she look really good in red", daniel show up out of nowhere, he shaked charles hand and leave before charles could hit him, daniel was a couple of meters away, but you could hear him laugh, "sorry, mate"

"keep dreaming, ricciardo, she's still my girl", he said and both of you got into the car, leading back to the hotel room.

while y/n was taking a shower, charles opened his Instagram account just to see two of yours posts, one was congratulating george, lewis and pierre and another one was just about him.

y/nbishop9

y/nbishop9 we do the best we can with the best we have, you did the best you could with the best it was given to you, it wasn't the result we wanted, but im really proud of the driver you are, even with all the adversity you keep loyal to yourself, we win and we lost together, we celebrate and we jump into next one together. im with you no matter what. remember, we swallow a lot of water, but there's a surface closer then we think. love you.

charles got himself thinking about the beginning of their relationship, they start dating in the middle of an awful season for y/n and her team, they went to every final and lost every single one, they lost a couple of athletes and she was nearly replaced as team captain, the next season all was working out, they were winning, good athletes, the team manager was happy, and a bad luck wave got them, but they "swallowed a lot of water but reached the surface again", in y/n's words, and that was solely one of the best things he learned with her, and they win, everything, all the championships, he saw the worst of her performance and the best, she went all for the finals, all the championships, y/n and her team were unstoppable.

y/n went back to him in the bed, getting cozy using his body as a pillow, despite the hot weather in Baku, her hands were cold and she let him know really well by putting her cold hands in his warm chest.

"ahh, mon amour, your hands are freezing"

" i know, but your all warm and its the best way to warm them" she smile at him

"i already said that i love you today?" she made that cute face when she's thinking

"no, not today"

"i love you, a lot, and thank you for being here with me, not just here today, but here everyday"

"can i drive your car now?"

"nice try, but it's still a no" he laughed the first time after the race, a genuine one

"c'mon, pierre was the one who taught me how to drive, do you honestly think that I'm a bad driver?" charles always forgot that pierres mom and y/n mom went to school together

"i know you're an expert, amazing, truly incredible driver, but im not risking losing my seat at ferrari, and thats whats gonna happen if they see you driving" charles gives you a quick nose kiss

"fine fine, I'll ask lewis, or lando? which one of them is shorter?"

"i think its lando"

"then lando it is, can we watch fast and furious now?"

"yes, we can"

y/n never walked away, he knew that and the strength she had inside of that 1,67m body was making him fight for being better. tomorrow it's a new day, a better day, he can lose today, tomorrow and next week, but he's doing the best he can with the best he's receiving.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #formula one #formula one imagine #formula 1

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bizkitsnuggets · 1 month

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ORANDA FISH.

masterlist.

After satisfying her stomach with the Hello Kitty Spicy Noodle Soup she bought, [Y/N] headed back to class before the bell could ring.

This time, she took the normal route. She didn’t want to be in the same cramped up alley way with her classmate as he smoked his ass away. Not to mention his glare that could kill if he tried hard enough. It was just too suffocating, literally.

The normal route was… as normal as a route could be. Some old decorations from summer laid around, neatly cut grass on the side, a pile of leaves that's been tidied, etcetera. [Y/N] recognized some people from her school, most of them walking hand in hand with someone.

She fought back her reflexes of cringing at couples in school, especially if they were a freshman and a senior. The age gap wasn’t the problem, it was the mental gap. It just didn’t sit right with her how a person who just entered Highschool is dating someone who is leaving Highschool very soon.

Just ignore them [Y/N], keep walking.

The girl thought to herself as she passed by a couple who was making out on the benches. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Teenagers are scary these days, one moment you think, “they’re so innocent!” and the next you find yourself wanting to bleach your eyes after seeing the shit they do. Hormones and urges happen, sure. But not that far…

While everyone else is finding their ‘true love’, [Y/N] is stuck with her sketchbook and pencil. Drawing away any fish she took a liking to or found interesting enough. That was all she had. She never had any friends, even in her freshman year. All she had were the oranda fish her aunt had in her little tea shop. [Y/N] named them all.

But enough of that, it’s time she actually gets in class instead of roaming around the school grounds like some lost zoo animal.

She sat neatly in her chair, letting her head lean into her palm as she rested her body from the little adventure she had. It was quite relaxing, to say the least.

Well, as relaxing as having thirteen (almost adult) teen boys running around the class like some untamed monkeys. Despite the headache she was receiving, she missed the loud screeching voices of her classmates. It made her feel… not empty.

[Y/N] didn’t do much through the summer break. She had no friends to hangout with and going out just by herself is too embarrassing. So, she volunteered to work part-time in her aunt’s tea shop. Of course, bribing her aunt to give her a decent amount of salary since she was helping when a lot of tourists came.

Truthfully, the money was just a plus for her. [Y/N] only volunteered so her life didn’t feel so empty. So miserable every single day. Just rotting in her room, waiting and waiting until summer break ends so she’d have something to do everyday again.

Well anyways, those times are over (for now).

The teacher finally came in, after being late for almost ten minutes. “Hello class, good seeing most of you here.”

Most of us? What does he mea—… Oh.

It wasn’t that much of a surprise, honestly it was to be expected from him. Of course he’d skip the third class on the first day of school. He’s been doing that since forever. No teacher would dare to scold him or call his guardian because they were all too afraid of him.

I don’t blame them for being scared, but c’mon! Wait, come to think of it, Kujo wasn’t always like this. Back in first year… he was… sweet…?

[Y/N] couldn’t believe what she was saying in her head. Kujo Jotaro, described as ‘sweet’? Yeah, in your dreams. But before the girl could expand her thoughts, the one who’s been on her mind makes his way into the classroom.

“Kujo-san!” The klutzy teacher dropped his chalk on the floor by the sudden appearance of the missing student. Jotaro doesn’t spare him a glance and takes his seat.

So much for skipping…

The teacher stood frozen for about five seconds before he realized his pupils were watching him. He quickly closed the sliding door and picked up his chalk. “Well, now that all of you are here,” he started. “I think it’s a good time to tell you guys about the group project we’ll be doing”.

Groans and sighs could be heard from [Y/N]’s classmates. The first day of school and already a project straight away. “I see all of you are dreading this, but don’t worry. It’s due in a month, so you’ll have plenty of time”.

Plenty of time my ass.

“I’ll be picking your partners now, Hideyama-san and Aeri-san…” The teacher started reading off of the roll call paper, therefore he’s picking at random. [Y/N] could feel the ground shake because of the person beside her. Their foot was bouncing up and down uncontrollably, they had a nervous expression. The girl felt slightly bad for them. But she couldn’t control who’s gonna be with who, right?

To be honest, she didn’t really care who her partner would be. She more so cared about the project itself. It’s due in a month, so it should be something a little hard. Maybe it’s about scrapbooking how our summer went. Well, that’d be a piece of cake for [Y/N] because she did the same routine every day. Wake up, shower, water the plants, make breakfast, walk around the beach, sketch at the beach, head to work, go home, shower, and—

“[L/N]-san and Kujo-san”.

What.

#jotaro x you #jjba jotaro #jojo jotaro #jjba part 4 #jotaro x reader

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cncermoon · 1 year

Text

all the world’s a stage

chapter 4: open wound

“Harry?” She sat up straighter. “What happened?”

The fear that had been slowly dripping into him suddenly flooded through in a giant wave. It was too familiar.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Ginny stood up so quickly it careened him backwards. “I need to get out of here,” was all she said as she hurried back for the main street.

“Ginny, wait!” he scrambled to his feet, but she didn’t listen, moving with an urgency he recognised in himself.

He followed after her without much thought, wanting to make sure she was okay, to figure out what the hell had happened. At the junction where alley met street, he made the decision. There was not much time to think about it. She was already disappearing into the crowds, and he couldn’t just leave her like that in good conscience.

Cursing under his breath, he stuffed his cloak into his pocket and dove after her. He tried to keep his head down as much as possible, but it was not too possible when you were trying to catch a small teenage girl who moved abnormally fast.

At the very least, he moved fast enough that most people did not have time to look at him long enough to register who he was.

“Ginny,” he stretched a hand out to grab her as soon as he got close enough, pulling her to an abrupt stop.

She spun around, her eyes wide, brimming with terror, he realised with a start. “What’s going on? Are you-”

“Is that Harry Potter?”

“Bollocks.”

“Bloody hell, it is!”

And then they were everywhere. People, all different shapes, sizes, and colours, pressing them in, peering closer for a better look.

Harry was aware, at the back of his mind, of his name being called out. Of people telling him things like thank you and asking him questions like what were you really doing last year and shouting condemnations like you killed my cousin.

If Ginny wasn’t there, he might have stood there and taken it. Let them rip him apart. But she was, and Harry zeroed in all her focus on her.

“We’ve got to keep moving. Just stick with me, all right?”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind him. But even as they fought against the current he could feel his grasp on her loosening, feel her being yanked away from him. He slid his hand lower, their palms sliding against each other as he interlocked all their fingers, getting a tighter grip.

The steps right ahead of him and Ginny’s hand clasped in his were the only two things left in the world. Some people had the common decency to step aside. Some refused. Harry pushed them out the way. He could see the headlines already. Harry Potter – a man of the people or a boy with no manners? He shoved them anyway.

Eventually Ginny began helping, moving with him instead of just being dragged along.

“This way,” he heard her voice say, felt a tug at his arm. “I know a shortcut, right through here.”

So he switched course, following her, the crowds slightly easing, becoming less suffocating. Instead people just watched them wide-eyed, like they were on display.

“Down here,” she said, pulling him forward.

But before they could get any further, a flash went off in their faces.

Harry became momentarily blind. Then he recognised the face of one of the Prophet’s photographers. Then there was another. From another photographer, one he didn’t recognize. Then a third one. He stumbled backwards as Ginny turned and tugged him the other way, but there came a fourth. She switched course again, only to be met by a solid wall.

They were blocked in.

“Harry! A question please?” He recognised the woman as Teresa Tofty, the same who had cornered him at Hogwarts.

“Not today,” he bit. “If you don’t mind, would you all get out our way please?”

“Harry, any comments on Rita Skeeter’s latest article?” another reporter called out from somewhere. The crowd was building again, onlookers gathering gossip, desperate for something, anything.

The world wants a story, Harry, Hermione’s voice rang in his head.

Harry lost his patience.

His face grew even stonier, anger and impatience taking complete control.

“Leave us alone.” He didn’t shout it, but something in his tone or on his face registered. People started stepping back. Others didn’t. Another camera flashed.

Harry turned his back, hiding Ginny from view as much as possible. She was still trembling slightly.

“Don’t let go,” he muttered so only she could hear.

He turned on the spot, then they were gone.

—

Among other things (Ginny’s hand locked firmly in Harry’s; the way he pulled her close to him before apparating; the way her head turned into the spot where his neck met his shoulder,; the way he grasped her elbow; the anger he displayed instead of his normal flustering avoidance), it was the word us that sent the world into a frenzy.

Read on ao3 or ffn :)

#all the world’s a stage #hinny #hp fanfic #harry potter #ginny weasley

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onetokill · 1 year

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❛ console. @mckingjys

everyone inside those bunkers had to have heard the screaming. it’s a terrible sound, wordless and anguished, and it carries on without pause for a long time before it’s finally contained. even then, silence doesn’t follow.

liberated. that was the word that coin had used. the victors had been ‘ liberated ’ from the capitol. johanna is a shell. peeta is barely human.

“ what about annie? ”

something weighed in the pause behind finnick’s question, choked it, like the air itself had a mouth and someone had shoved a gag inside. his mind reels. what about annie. why hadn’t she been with the others, why wasn’t she here now, why had they left her there, what had snow done to her, she didn’t know anything, he’d never told her any of their secrets, that was supposed to keep her safe, she’s supposed to be safe, i wish she was dead, i wish they were all dead and we were too —

“ she used the sheets, we think. bed was stripped down. she must’ve knotted them together, got them tied to — ”

“ gale, ” katniss says, low and sharp. like a warning.

“ what? look, if it were me, i’d wanna know. ”

“ but it isn’t. ”

“ she went out on her own terms, which is more than we can say for — ”

“ okay, ” boggs cuts in, lifting a hand, “ that’s enough. i’m sorry, finnick. sorry we couldn’t get there sooner. ”

he’d stopped listening before then, so he doesn’t hear his name or whatever else they might have called out after him, ricocheting off colorless walls. rooms, hallways. tile flies up to meet him and he lands hard on his knees. that’s when the screaming starts. that first rupture comes out of him and doesn’t stop until his throat tastes metallic, scraped and raw. then comes the second. on and on, pulling him apart with tearing fingers and pounding fists, like he doesn’t know who he is, doesn’t know where he is, has no awareness of anything except pain. they sedate him eventually and get him into his bed, where the screams quieten and grow hoarse from overuse, and dissolve into weeping instead.

the knots. he knows those knots. they’d practiced them together, guiding each other’s hands. i wish she was dead. and was that him, too? had he taught her nothing more than how to tie her own noose? he’d tie his own right now if he had the strength to move.

somebody comes into the room, and it’s not until he hears katniss say his name, very quietly, that he realizes who it is.

“ i wished she was dead. ” his voice doesn’t sound right, off key and broken. “ so i got what i wanted, didn’t i? ”

katniss winces. “ you didn’t want this. ”

“ but i should be grateful, right? we should celebrate. ”

“ stop it, finnick. ”

that quickly, he runs out of steam again and his expression collapses. he’s sobbing again as he turns to bury his face disconsolately into the pillow, wanting it to suffocate him. he feels the mattress shift and the warm weight of her body behind him, the wrap of her arms, the press of her cheek between his shoulder blades. they didn’t start out like this. she’d wanted to kill him in the arena, and his trust in her had been about the same. but a lot happened in those three days. a lot has happened since. hardly any time passes in the bunkers of district 13 where they aren’t within arm’s reach of each other, except when she’s been summoned by coin, or filming propos, or doing whatever it is a rebel leader does. he’d paid little if any mind to much of it; people would speak to him, have to repeat themselves before he took anything in. he was inside district 13 but his mind was in the capitol. his mind was in the arena. his mind was tying knots.

and katniss understood. katniss is the only one who understood.

finnick’s hand moves, finds hers where it’s tucked against his chest, her arms around him; back to chest, a role reversal of how they’d stood that night in the trees. he finds her hand and clutches it and sinks back against her, and she holds him, and neither of them say a word. the tears don’t stop for what seems like hours but once they do, she doesn’t go anywhere. they lie there like that for miles and miles of time.

when he falls asleep, she’s still there when he jolts awake again. when somebody tries to come into the room, to administer more sedative, she snaps at them to leave.

and she doesn’t go anywhere. she doesn’t go anywhere.

#mckingjys #ans.#vrs / mockingjay.

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ducknotinarow · 1 year

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[2k3 Raph Yvonne]

"My father, John Bishop, took your eye?" Yvonne knows the answer, he just...needs to hear it be confirmed to her again. All fingers curl into fists when it is, "I'm going to kill him. I'm actually going to fucking kill him Raphael."

Her voice is too calm. This was a deep anger; not explosive and short lived. No...no she was being serious. Taking a deep breath, she offers a smile, forced,

"Heyyyy, mind if I borrow your Sai? For you know, reasons that have no relation to this conversation what so ever," She lies through literally gritting teeth, "Oh, and while I'm at the EPF base, again, totally unrelated reasons, want me to try and find your eye? Maybe we can reattach it or something - worth a shot, isn't it?"

| Muse interaction

The Drugs had been long flushed out of his system his head was clear again after the fog that had settled over it from how much had to keep pumping into his system. Raph may have been captured by Bishop but he made sure taking him down was one he'll of a task for them. Just didn't come out in one piece. Took his eye like some damn prize. A permeant scar he was used to scars he hand many. This was different he never noticed how much he relied on his sight till half of it was gone.

It started off small, just annoying little things. He needs to turn his head further to look at someone properly. Forgetting his eye wasn't just close when first waking up. When he biffed it trying to get on Casey's bike and no teasing followed. Dropping a mug full of the pots last bit of coffee only to hear prolicen brust. And no remarks were made only concur for Raph. When Mikey stuttered and tried to back peddle on a joke about Raph aim being bad when he missed their head. Leo taking it easy on him in training.

Just be normal! He wanted to yell and shout he knew it was gone but he wasn't broken because of it! He refused to loke Bishop be a reason he was broken! When his Sai slipped out from his hold because he missed catching it Splinter suggested they go out. And it just got worse.

They kept Raph between them, someone making sure to be right on his blond side if he tried going faster to get away they wouldn't let him shake them off. He growled under his breath tried to understand they dropped into an alleyway, and one of them grabbed his wrist because he was still out in the open. That was the final straw after two weeks of this a decent record for Raphael the hothead of the family.

He knows they were just scared and worried trying to look out for him. Trying to give him the time to heal. But Raph felt like he being cradled, he felt weak, powerless...vulnerable. and he wasn't good about being any of that. He protected them. He watched thier backs. So he torn his hand away not even sure who grabbed him at the time. He was blinded by rage, ironically. It could have been Leo, Don or Mikey he'll it could have been Casey even. He didn't care so he hollered and yelled till his thoart was raw. Everything he wanted to saw for weeks that he held back because he knew they were simply worried. But he had enough he felt like walls were closing in on him. Suffocating grasping fir air. Felt loke he was blond by a light, strapped down, a scalper to his eye. So when Bishops name suddenly left his beak? He took off.

"My father, John Bishop, took your eye?"

Raph opened his eye and titled his head to the side to look to Yvoone now. Brought out if him mind when she spoke. Why it was her he ran to he wasn't sure. Maybe because despite thier fight she saved his shell. Maybe because she always offered her home as an escapse and fuck did he need that more than anything. Maybe he just missed his sister. He came to make amended and was lucky to be let in and offered something wram to drink and get out if the rain. Slumped on her couch as he let his head rest. She asked about what happened she saved him far as he was concerned. She had every right to at least know what she saved him from.

"Yeah." He simply answered wishing to keep Bishop standing over him pushed out from his thoughts.

"I'm going to kill him. I'm actually going to fucking kill him Raphael."

He can tell by how clam her tone is that she's beyond angry over this. Was it out of protectiveness for him? Or just being passed at Bishop for going against her whole set up. He hope the latter he was so fucking tried of being treated like he needed to cared for by his brothers he didn't need her to do the same.

"Heyyyy, mind if I borrow your Sai? For you know, reasons that have no relation to this conversation what so ever,"

Raph offers a faint smirk watching how her teeth clamp down one row over the other. How the corners of her mouth froce into a tight then line smile.

"Oh, and while I'm at the EPF base, again, totally unrelated reasons, want me to try and find your eye? Maybe we can reattach it or something - worth a shot, isn't it?"

And the he laughs.

Arms moving to hold around his middle as he just laughs louder. Letting his shoulders shake in the wake of it, he wasn't laughing at her persay more just over what she said. "Yeah sure babe go on ahead. Take my sai, storm up to dear old dad of yas, and take my eye. pfft sure it'll just simply go right back in. Maybe get the rest of them to shut up if they can see the white if both of them." Despite the laugh, it was lined with bitterness and hurt, but it felt good to let it out as he leaned forward, letting his head hang between his knees a moment. She acknowledged it at least even if it was out of anger a need to get back at her old man maybe even he didn't care at least she wasn't avoiding it, making out as this awful tragic thing not to talk about!

"Think that sick fuck got it on display?" He chuckled a little over. "Do me a favor when ya go? Just bust it out and throw the bitch out a window then no one can 'Ave it."

Taking a moment to breathe, just breathe, though. Something he has been needing for a good while now.

"Von ya smart, how long do it 'ake to get use'ta missin' parts?" He was so tired of feeling like he needed his hand to be held. Running his hand over his face, feeling just around the side of his face. The right side he knows his hand is just in front of the socket but he can't...see. "is it normal for there to be pain there? It's gone what there to still hurt?" It was the most he'd been able to talk about the obvious fact that it was gone! The most normal conversation he's had in two weeks. He loves them he dose but he hates then hovering, hates them walking on egg shells around him all he did was lose a fucking eye. Make stupid jokes, scold at him still, come at him with all they have. Don't...don't treat him like this.

He's so bad about accepting that care.

He's still Raph.

Can't anyone see that?

He wasn't broken. He wasn't a busted weapon.

Still the angry shirt temper guy. Sure he'll miss a petty punch to mikey here and there just laugh and make him mkre mad.

He might misjudge his hold and drop things scold him! Get annoyed he broke your favorite mug!

Don't treat him like he's fragile and can handle the training.

He's not broken.

He was a lot. Angry, so fucking angry he never can explain what was wrong with him. Why taking it out in himself felt so good lime he deversed it. He knows there's something wrong with him, the moment he dropped it let some carefree take over him through he was given a grim reminder.

He needed the normal.

He needed anything that would ground him get Bishop out of his head. They needed to treat him like before. Not watch out for him not protect him tend to him like he was busted. Being that is what got him in Bishops hands. Suddenly his shell felt tight like someone was stepping in his plastron adding pressure under thier foot.

He needed to still be Raphael. He was still Raph to them right. Shaky hand slipped a sai out from his belt and held it out to Von, took everything not to nick himself just then and there. Peeking over to her smiling he needs her to keep doing what she was it was helping he could breath.

"I mean got four hands sure ya can handle one weapon uh then again?" Flipping the pongs to fave himself as he lifted it to his mouth slightly picking his teeth with it. "I dunno if I want ya messing with my weapon might not treat it right." Said the turtle using it like a tooth pick.

#muse| hamato rapheal #madamkezzie #aflockoffeathers #[ ones trash is anothers treasure aflockoffeathers]#[03 verse]#muse interacction #tw: trauma #tw: depression suggested

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voidsumbrella · 1 year

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ough now im thinking about my/my family's pets. it seems to be a running trait of spontaneously adopting exotics and frantically having to go all out for their care and keeping. we have some. wild vet bills.

this post is. a lot longer than i thought i would be jfc im putting this under a cut.

childhood list:

lucy, ella, and snowflake were our birds- lucy was older than me by several years and hated my guts for stealing my mom's attention from her, ella was the world's sweetest conure who we adopted approximately 5 seconds after meeting her at the rescue she was at, and snowflake was supposed to be my first pet but asking a 5 year old to socialize a bird who's species is notoriously skittish was kind of a tall ask, so he was more or less my mom's.

maddie and bleu were our pygmy goats, we ostensibly got them as livestock for brush clearing purposes, but they were pretty much pets.

2 fishtanks, one of which was my mom's and one of which was mine (for realsies this time). my mom veers towards schooling fish, but i had a bigass goldfish named diamond who i loved despite him being boring as fuck.

i also had sole responsibility over two gerbils, dos and ashey. not at the same time, i got ashey a couple years after dos died. they didn't like being handled much, so aside from some affection after weekly cleaning they mostly just hung out and made scuttling noises while i was trying to sleep.

fred was a tree frog who was accidentally brought up with my grandma's orchids when she moved from florida, and like, what were we supposed to do, let him die?? so we set up a tank.

all of them have since died- bleu died of old age at a respectable 13, as did the gerbils (though those were on the lower end bc 9 year old me didn't have as much access to proper small animal care resources, and mostly just followed pet store advice which is by and large: fucking useless). snowflake lived to be quite elderly, but got cancer and i think that's what did it. fred lived a year or so after moving in, but we don't really know what happened there, he just was dead one day.

diamond im still kind of mad about- my neighbor petsat while we were on vacation, and she ignored the instructions and overfed him badly, which tanked the water quality, and we returned to a fish actively suffocating. she didn't mean to, she was incredibly upset and super sorry, but like. she still killed my fish.

(this did result in a moment that i think defines my dad- he constantly protested how many pets we had and how much of a hassle it was to take care of them all, but while my mom and i were frantically changing the water and cleaning the tank, he got a tupperware of fresh water and gently moved diamond back and forth in it to force clean water into his gills. he gave cpr to a fish he didn't really like because my mom and i cared about it. i love my dad a lot.)

maddie actually died after only a couple months- we had followed the advice we had gotten for putting them on a runner, like, attached to a cable so they could wander around a set area but wouldn't run off into the street or anything, bc it wasn't viable at the time to fence a large area in, and we didn't want to use like shock collars or anything. her a bleu got into a scuffle, which is super normal goat behavior, and the cable got wrapped around her neck. we did not use the runner again. bleu got kind of doted on after that.

lucy died of tuberculosis. fun fact: birds can get tuberculosis. we spent months driving her back and forth to the only decent avian vet in the area getting her treatment or at least shit to make her more comfortable. in the middle of all that, ella choked on a piece of food and died extremely suddenly. then lucy died like a week later. im still kind of upset about it.

we did say we were Not getting any more pets after that, especially no more parrots- we had mom's fishtank, bleu was still alive at the time, and that was it we were done. this lasted about 8 months.

second group:

ike, the rose breasted cockatoo, who is the darling of the household and the reason why none of us are allowed to hold any birds at any pet stores unless we are actively shopping for a bird.

quincy, bibi, and kiwi, three budgies who were ostensibly my sister's but my mom was fully aware going in that these were not going to be the 7 year old's responsibility.

angel, who was given to us by a neighbor- she had belonged to her mother in law, who could no longer take care of her, but she was not Remotely socialized bc her father in law thought it was funny to wave his hands at the cage to scare her, so she was terrified of hands, which made her a bit hard to train. my mom is very good with birds, tho, so she wound up coaxing angel into liking her. only her, tho, the rest of us got bit.

we got a flock of guinea hens somewhere in here, but those were genuinely livestock instead of pets.

karma and nermal, our first cats! karma was from a litter of kittens a local feral cat had under one of the outbuildings, and got left behind when the mom noticed us monitoring her and ditched. nermal (young but an adult) showed up a year or so later, and my dad (who is allergic to cats, doesn't want cats, loudly protested the adoption of karma,) was like I Must Tame The Feral Cat. so then we had two cats.

theo, george, and tessa were our second go around for goats, because we do have a lot of brush to clear out, and used goat bedding makes really good compost. they were netherland dwarfs this time, not pygmies.

this ran through late high school, which means that some of this shit can probably be fact checked in my tumblr archive if you look really hard lmao. the pet lifespan timeline is going to blur a bit when i was at college, but:

we still have ike and he is still the household beloved!

kiwi died shortly after we got her and i don't actually know what happened there. bibi and quincy lived through old age, and only died a couple years ago. angel died due to egg laying complications, after yet another round of "hour long drives back and forth to the bird vet for several weeks."

karma was the runt of her litter and had some problems with her organ functions, and we had to put her to sleep a fewyears ago when her kidneys failed- i think she was 9 or 10. nermal died a couple years after we got him, we don't know why. he wasn't injured or visibly sick, but he was an outdoor cat please do not outdoor cat discourse at me, trust me, i know so like. it could have been anything tbh.

theo george and tessa got killed by a bear. we do not usually have bears in the area, and thought the fencing we had was sufficient. apparently not. we have also stopped keeping guineas after losing the bulk of the flock to what we suspect was a tag team of a weasel and a fox- we couldn't manage to get their house secure enough to keep them out, so birds are on hold until we get a new setup entirely.

modern group:

achilles and patroclus, adopted barn cats bc karma spent 90% of her time lounging in the sun and didn't do any hunting, which meant the mouse problem came back after nermal died. also my sister is weak to the charms of kittens and makes very good puppy eyes at my parents.

camille (cami), the first bird i got after moving out of my parent's house for college. she was fucking perfect.

the button quail- this was a mistake, we unanimously fell for the trap of cute videos on the internet because the babies are tiny and the adults are also very small and cute. we incubated 26 eggs with an estimated 25% hatch rate, and got 24 birds out of it. we managed to adopt out 17 of them, i kept four in my apartment, and my parents kept 3 at home.

latte and sybil!! latte was the first pet i adopted with my wife, after they went "i would love to have a holland lop" and i went ok we can do that. get in the car there's one at a shelter 3 hours away. lets go. sybil was adopted from the same shelter after i got an urgent call for fosters because they had something like 30 rabbits dumped on them and the larger shelter they partnered with fucked them over. we had been looking into getting a companion for latte anyway so we fostered her until she was old enough to get fixed and then adopted her fully.

dionysus, who was a betta fish and hallmark of a fun lack of impulse control on my part. i got gripped with the need to rescue him from the stack of shit-tier cups at petco because he still looked healthy enough to recover. wonderful dude tho, i hand fed him bloodworms with tweezers :)

rupert, my sister's corn snake, who is a flawless specimen. 10/10, no notes.

latte and sybil are, of course, still around, as are rupert and patroclus. we think achilles got electrocuted somehow, we literally don't know how. dionysus had chronic fin rot- don't buy fish from petco- which i religiously treated and he died of old age a few years back. my four button quail died after a year and a half, partly because i had all girls and their life expectancy is only like 2 years, partly because i was too depressed to be taking care of that many pets and also handle college. lessons on knowing your limits. my parent's three- hamilton, burr (parent's choice- the musical had just come out), and hinata (sister's choice, she really likes sports anime)- all lived past the standard maximum lifespan, and hamilton is still alive and kicking. today!

cami flew out the window and i never found her. im still upset about this.

which brings us to contemporary era:

cleopatra, a cat we adopted from a shelter after achilles died because patroclus was being concerningly listless. we were told she was too unfriendly to be an indoor pet and could really only ever be a barn cat, and that is not remotely the case. im trying to convince my dad to let my sister take her when she moves out, she would be miles happier indoors.

buster, baby, and buddy, 3 whites tree frogs we got for my sister that mostly belong to my mom. baby and buddy got a fungal infection and after another run around of frantically trying to get to an exotics vet who would treat frogs and learning how to give medication to amphibians via injection, both died. we still got buster tho, and we're trying to find a frog roughly his size as a companion.

percy and mary shelley, two african giant millipedes my wife got! they're neat, they're also nocturnal and i almost never see them.

fishtank that was planned to have cherry shrimp, neon tetras, and kuhli loaches, but presently only has kuhlis and a fuckload of snails, because all my shrimp died for unknown reasons, and i stalled long enough on getting the tetras that my loaches started breeding, and i will Not be fucking up my chances of seeing baby noodles on the regular.

my mom still has her fishtank as well! she's setting up a quarantine tank so she can add angelfish.

robespierre/robi/bastard of my life, my green cheek conure who my mom got me after cami left because she was worried about my mental health. he spent half the time i was writing this trying to burrow under the laptop, and then pulled the esc key off and i had to put him back on his cage. he stayed there for like 15 minutes and then walked across the floor back to the bed and i am actively having to shoo him away from the keyboard as we speak. i love him so much.

#real life mango #home full of creatures home full of plants home full of people i love #is the key to having any sort of mental health at all for me #pet death discussion/////

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