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kmartmithril · 16 days

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Cold Conviction: a one off about what Lucy Frostblade’s last moments might have been like. Some mention of gore, mention of death. Some creative liberties taken and I have not gone back to check this for spelling or grammar ( forever posting a first draft 🫡)

“Please, Lucy- just listen to me—“

“Do you know what you’re asking me, Kipperlily?”

Tears well in Lucy’s eyes, a hand on her chest tugging at a well loved sweater. There’s pain in her heart, pain for the brief second in which she considered what is being asked of her. The pain of giving up on something she has held so dear for so long.

Ruvina. She couldn’t give up on her goddess, the very thing that connected her to her culture. Harsh as the cold and the wind was, she was a part of Lucy’s heritage, and keeping close to others made them warm against her cold. Why would she need anything else?

There’s a whisper at the back of her mind, the pull of something familiar, as Kipperlily promises something strong, something powerful. Something full of rage. They can face down whatever, they just have to give themselves over to this god. The sensation of warmth, of light, a counterbalance to Ruvina’s own domain.

The warmth becomes a burning heat. A signal that something is wrong.

Some gods speak directly to their followers, others give them visions and feelings to interpret. Ruvina is trying to tell her something, a warning against a darker path.

Lucy looks down at her hands. Hands that have healed, hands that held Kilperlily’s as they promised to watch each other’s backs. How they held hands as Kipperlily argued in favor of keeping the name “The High Five Heroes”. Hands that held her dying friend in the Mountains of Chaos not long ago.

They are now clenched in defiance against stacking odds.

Emboldened, she takes a strong stance against her friends. Her friend.

A tear escapes her eye.

“I won’t be bullied into this.” She declares. “Don’t you hear yourself? You want me to pledge myself to a different god so you can get your revenge?”

Kipperlily’s back is to the woods, a dagger in her hand. Her brow creased so hard Lucy wonders if it might be stuck that way. Beside them, the lake glistens in the dim light from the moon over head. Even in this light, Lucy can see a mix of fear, anger, and sadness in Kipperlily’s eyes. It’s the anger that’s the strongest, replacing the annoyance and frustration that had been so prevalent in the past couple of years.

“You’re making a mistake.” Kipperlily says through gritted teeth, her grip on the dagger intensifying. “We can be heroes! we can do the things we’ve only dreamed about doing! We can be better than them!”

There is venom on the “them”. Kipperlily is blinded by her ambition, a need to surpass someone who seemingly has it all. The tragic backstory, the skills, the friends. It was something Lucy could never fully understand, but she listened to her talk about wanting to be one of the best rogues in the world, how she wanted the chance to save someone - save the world.

Lucy herself never had any quarrels with the Bad Kids, another adventuring party at their school. One of many, but one of the only ones to really take a stand in recent memory. They’d killed Kalvaxus at the end of their Freshman year and by all accounts, that was a pretty rad thing to do. Killed by Riz Gukgak, then slain again by the Maidens who, understandably, wanted to get their revenge.

But Kipperlily was seemingly upset by the fact that Riz had this tragic tale to him, that he “got” to have his father eaten by Kalvaxus and “get” to have that revenge arc. Kipperlily wanted for nothing, and yet she wanted for something that would give her glory.

At first it was petty jealously, but ever since her death, her tune had changed. They all had, in fact. It was gradual, but Lucy was beginning to notice a rage building in all of them. Subtle in some, Mary Ann was still Mary Ann and Oisin still appeared relatively calm, but she could see it in them too. She was starting to feel very lonely.

Lucy’s hands are balled into fists. “Is that all you want? You want to be better than them?”

“Yes!” Kipperlily sounds exasperated. “What’s so hard to understand about that?!”

Anger boils in Lucy.

“Isn’t it enough that we’re together?!?” She snaps. “Is it not enough for you that we get to hang out with our friends? Think about everything we could be doing! All the problems we can solve- we can get better and go back to the Mountains and do what we set out to do in the first place!”

Kipperlily looks down at the dagger in her hand, then back up at Lucy. For a split second, she sees the young halfing girl she met on the first day of school, a book clutched to her chest, a bright smile on her face. She thinks about how in the following months, they’d braid each other’s hair and share secrets no one else knew. She thinks about their promise. A promise to face the world together.

“Don’t you trust me?” Kipperlily asks. Another twinge of pain, this time at the deception. Kipperlily knows how to get what she wants. “I’m doing this for us! When the rage god returns, we can be glorious, Lucy. The two of us- together.”

Ruvina’s warning returns. Warmth, heat, fire - Rage.

Lucy stands her ground. She shakes her head and Kipperlily’s bravado falters.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I can’t turn my back on everything I’ve ever known.” She pauses. All she has to do is say one thing, and she knows what’s coming. But she can’t back down either. “Im sorry you can’t be him.”

Rage flairs in Kipperlily’s eyes. Shes too quick, she’s on her in a matter of seconds, cold steel cutting through Lucy’s body. Lucy closes her eyes, accepting her fate and falling back with arms outstretched.

It’s cold. It’s so cold. Shes doesn’t even feel it as Kipperlily continues to slice at her out of sheer anger.

She doesn’t want to die. She doesn’t want to leave her friends, her family, everything behind, but little choice is given to her.

There’s an embrace, deep and cold, as Ruvina takes her in. But then the feeling is jerked away, warmth and light finding her instead.

No, not warmth and light. Rage, it’s the heat of rage.

A hand reaches out to her, coal black with ribbons of fierce hot magma. She looks up, seeing a stern face looking down at her coldly. In this moment, she realizes the connection to Ruvina.

“I’m sorry, but my answer is no.”

The hand withdrawals. A flash of something on the face - pride. Pride in her conviction, in a sense of personal justice.

The heat fades to warmth, then the loving embrace of a goddess returns, briefly, to cradle her. Shes not sure if she’s at peace, but she’s fine to rest here until such a time comes.

#fantasy high #fantasy high junior year spoilers #fantasy high spoilers #fantasy high junior year #dimension 20 #lucy frostblade #kipperlilly copperkettle

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pinkandpurple360 · 4 months

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It really saddens me that Helluva started off like it was gonna be an eat the rich story only for it to go "but rich people are people too~" which yeah, sure we're all human at the end of the day but most of the worlds problems right now is caused by people who do have money because the sad truth is: the more money you have the more power you have. Even those who don't abuse their power are still privileged and likely to turn a blind eye to those who aren't from money.

Don't get me started with Striker they did my boy dirty! He could have been such an interesting villain/antagonist to explore a system that did him and others dirty (I want to know this guy's backstory so bad) to the point that he decided to make a living killing the people who ruined his and others life. Hey, maybe he sees how Stella is treated by her brother and the ars gothia in general being forced in a marriage and to carry a child she never wanted (even if she does love her daughter in the end). Maybe he becomes protective of Octavia when Andre wants to marry her off and force her to live through what Stella did. We see how Hell's hierarchy not only hurts those who live under the Royal's boots but we see how it hurts those within it as well. Granted this would only work if Stella was a nuanced character and we know how much Viv loves nuance /scarsam.

Srsly stop making me send in ask and get sad about the show we could have gotten supposed to the one we did...

Oh it’s not even “the rich are people too!”

It’s, the rich really are superior, better people than their subjects. Their lives hold more value, trying to kill royalty is offensive but killing lower classes is just another workday. Through the power of secret kinky bdsm and singing with lower classes, royalty can change and become better people!! Without having to make any changes to the status quo or how they treat others of their lovers class, of course.

Evil women, gays, and working class in organised crime, who want to survive through money, alimony, and stealing, are the real villains. They just need to pick themselves up by the bootstraps, if they don’t love the rich and question the love lives of the rich, they’re deeply evil and should be killed.

I’ve said before how it’s obvious that the Goetia family is Patriarchal. But the showrunner is such an “anti misandry” “women are the root of evil” proponent I can’t tell if thats on purpose and fine with her.

In the Goetia family, only the males get official demonic names. The men hold all the decision making power, and women are only there to pass on magical genes. Stella had to pretend to want to be with stolas, but for some reason he didn’t have to pretend. She was moved to his home and had to leave after he cheated, and his daughter is another unwilling passenger in the stolas sitcom. Marriage is another unusual thing in this show, because we never find out the women’s maiden names

Stolas, his once off appearing father, his irrelevant brother and law, all get official titles present in real world demonology. BUT not his wife and not his daughter, who are the key players in his “unprompted melodrama” of an emotional arc.

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lecterthewhale · 1 year

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Week 4 and another episode of Oshi No Ko!!!!

Alright, so at the end of last episode we were all super excited about what Aqua was about to do on the film set, yeah??? Well, I’ve gotta say(at least for me) it was everything I hoped and a complete surprise to me at the same time! Part of me was definitely expecting for him to step in and completely blow everyone away with his acting skills(because despite the fact that he keeps claiming that he’s bad at acting, I just don’t believe it!), and, in a way, he did, just not how I was expecting him to!

Aqua’s obsessive, that’s, like, kind of his number one personality trait. He doesn’t really seem to have any interests or goals aside from getting revenge for Ai/anything to do with Ai and acting(though he doesn’t let himself admit it). That being said, when he enters the scene, when he was practicing for the scene before the camera was rolling, all of that showed the effort and care he put into his acting. He matched up the screen to the manga! Like, that’s next level right there! Also, he literally got himself punched???? Like, dang, dude! Stop claiming not to care about your job if that’s the length that you’re going to go to!

We also get Kana, slowly losing faith in her work in this scene, which was so dang sad!!!! Like, this girl puts so much work into her job and she just cares so incredibly much! Seeing her trying to get Melt-kun to be better and failing and the tremble in her eyes when that happened??? Ooh, it hurt! This girl deserves the best!!!! I’d honestly not be surprised at all if she ends up developing a crush on Aqua(like their conversation on scandals and the “look of a maiden in love” scene seem to imply—at least to me)! Also, if she does end up becoming an idol with Ruby like the end of the show implied then I am so here for it!!!!! More Kana content please and thank you!!!!

Now, Aqua vs the Producer guy—can I just say that the producer gives me the creeps? Like, the way he kept mentioning that Aqua looks like Ai makes me worried that he might have some suspicions about Aqua’s background and, like Aqua and Kana said just a minute or two before that, we don’t want any scandals for these characters! Aqua and Ruby’s very existences are scandals waiting to happen, and I’m sure that it’ll get out eventually, but it would definitely make it even more difficult for Aqua to find their father if it is shared with the public. Oh, and is Aqua gonna be on a dating show????? Part of me is laughing—that boy doesn’t fit the dating show vibes at all!—but, at the same time, Aqua deserves so much better than to go on some dumb dating show just to get that information! Thing is—as I’ve mentioned before—our boy is obsessive and I can absolutely see him going on the show if just for that information.

Moving on from the creepy producer, school’s finally started! Ruby is honestly such a teenager and it’s really sweet—being all nervous about making friends, constantly comparing herself to others, being so excited for it all! Like, Aqua could never! Also, did you all catch Ruby saying that Shiranui(or whatever her name—but we’ll get back to her in a second because she’s giving me some sketchy vibes!) is her number one right now and Aqua—smiling, but still—said that Ai is and always would be his number one? Even though Ruby sort of muttered of course that’s the way it is for her, too, and all this is just another clear indicator of how Ruby is moving on from what happened with Ai while Aqua just isn’t.

It did make me remember the fact that Aqua doesn’t really seem to have any of his own interests, though. Like, yes, there’s acting, but the Director got him started and then Ai asked if he was going to be an actor in her dying moments, so how much of this is really him? Aqua—both as Aqua and as the Doctor—don’t seem to have any interests of their own. Ai was gotten from Sarina, acting was got from Ai, and what else is there? Revenge, which is just the Ai obsession twisted into something darker? Sarina said that this is a man with no dreams, and I’m inclined to believe her. He became a doctor in his first life—something that seems incredibly ambitious on the surface—but as a doctor he was lackadaisical and seemed to have no passion for his work. That’s not really ambition—or at least it doesn’t seem like it. Did he become a doctor then see all the better doctors and retreat just like he did as Aqua with acting? I’m so curious! Also, the fact that Aqua’s good at reading people’s intentions(which was mentioned in this episode as well as the first with how Aqua’s good at knowing what the directors want) makes me wonder if he’s always been good at knowing ad doing whatever it is the people around him want him to do. I really want to know more about his background—in case you haven’t figured that out yet!

Now, back to the story, Shiranui? The famous chick in Ruby’s class? Straight-up, she seems hecka suspicious to me! Like, everything she’s said and done so far seem very surface-level and pre-planned to me. Knowing where Ruby’s friend is from as well as the name of the show Aqua was in? Why on Earth would she know that much detail??? I feel like that morning—when she skipped the entrance ceremony—she was actually studying up on her classmates so that she would be able to seem smart and caring or whatever to make herself look better. I mean, she called Sweet Love good? Sorry, but even though I do think Aqua did a good job on his scene I doubt that this chick sincerely watched the show and thought it was good. That is, unless she’s part of the dating show that Aqua’s gonna be on and that’s why she had a job that kept bringing it up and bothered to watch it! Out of the two options, though, I believe the studied it all for her public persona reason quite a bit more.

Overall, another enjoyable episode! After the first episode I will say that these all feel too short for me, but maybe that’s good because it means that I’m always hungry for the next episode! Next week will probably focus more on Ruby and the idol group they’re creating, but I can’t wait to see how that will all go, too! Maybe we’ll also get more of Aqua in school—which I’m actually a bit interested in. Oh, finally, crack theory: do you all think that Aqua’s gonna end up missing a ton of school for acting jobs and then almost be held back a year in spite of being the top of his class purely because he’s lacking in attendance? I doubt it’s actually going to happen, but gosh, the idea occurred to me while watching this episode and I haven’t been able to stop laughing since!

Anyway, see you all for episode 5 next week!

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ha1taniwh0re · 2 years

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Learn to respect your madam

Fandom: Moriarty the Patriot

Character: Sherlock Holmes

Third person pov

You are the noble lady who is with non noble man in relationship. Your parents are dead and you got family business. Your boyfriend Sherlock Holmes is the famous detective who for some reason didn’t work for Jard. You asked your boyfriend to go with you on Noatick, you didn’t want to be alone there so he said yes. He doesn’t like when you spoil him sometimes, now you “spoiled” him. You just booked a luxury room for you two.

“You didn’t have to book this room for us” he said a little bit annoyed.

“You will not pay me back. I know you hate this room just bc you cant pay me half of the amount of the room. I don’t need money baby so don’t worry” you said and kissed your lover.

“Tonight I have a dinner with Lords Roberts, and I would love for you to come with me”.

Sherlock just noded.

/dinner/

“My love after this dinner we will go walking around the Notaick”, you said and Roberts brothers were confused.

Why tho you make decisions

“Sure, love”

As 5 of you were sitting and chatting, you saw that your boyfriend wasn’t happy that he was here. You will pay him back for this sacrifice.

“Im sorry my gentlemans i need to excuse myself. I will be right back”, you said and went to bathroom.

/Sherlock pov/

As my girlfriend left somewhere, i heard what this mans were talking about.

“You know, I've always thought it best when I've had the choice, that a woman should be silent and have no voice”, one said

“When a maiden with a mind meets a man with power, she must know her place or it all goes sour”, other said

“As men of wealth”, first

“Influence”, second

“Prestige”, and the third one let his voice

“Are we not all fine specimens?”, second asked

“Indeed”, all of them said

“They think that love is blind and it can't be bought”, third said.

“Yes, but that's a lesson, and it can be taught”, first told his brother.

“Yeah, listen to the man and ignore the wife, that's the only way for a happy life”, second one

“The choice is simple: choose me and thrive”, first said

“Or have it your way and be burned alive”, third one said

And after that everybody started laughing. THIS MANS. They don’t know how to treat women.

“Neee Sherlock, you need to learn this things, you cant let Lady (last name) to tell you what to do”, first Robert said and i just snapped.

“YOU NEED TO LEARN TI RESPECT WOMENS. SHE CAN HAVE A VOICE AND SHE CAN MAKE DECISIONS TOO.”

They looked at me in shock as i was ready ti attack wirh another lecture i felt gentle little hands tapping my back.

“De, de Sherly. Don’t be so mad, everybody has there thoughts”, my beautiful girlfriend told me and took my hand.

“Im sorry gentlemens but we will take our leave now.”

She said and we left them with shock faces. As we were walking around Noatick, we were silent.

“Im sorry my love for making a scene there”, i said with sad look.

I was sorry for that, maybe this will make her problems i know this noble worlds and there reputation can go down really easy.

“Don’t be sweetheart. You did good thing”.

As i heard this beautiful voice she had i was in 7th sky.

“You have a beautiful voice baby”, i said and kissed her.

“Hahaha thank you my love”.

We kissed and spent this beautiful night together.

#anime #moriarty the patriot #albert james moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot x reader #sherlock fandom #sherlock x reader #sherlock moriarty the patriot

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joy-of-life88 · 1 year

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Can I love again? [a Roman Reigns story] 15 Past and future

"Okay, Mr. Reigns. Here we are. Make yourself comfortable." I said as I closed the door to my apartment behind us.

Roman looked around and gave me a puzzled look.

"It's a lot smaller than I would have guessed." he said as he kept looking around.

"Well. I don't need much space. I moved here about six months after the accident. At the same time, I changed back to my maiden name. I sold our house because I just couldn't take it anymore. There were just too many memories, you know. I donated most of their stuff. That way, others still got something out of it. And I don't need material things to remember them. There are very few things that I kept," I explained to him as I walked over to my dresser where the framed pictures of them were.

With a sad smile, I looked at the pictures. The one of James and me on our wedding day and the one from the day we brought Eric home from the hospital. And so many more wonderful pictures. There were days when I could not look at these pictures. But by now I realized that it was getting easier and easier. I was very grateful for that, because to be honest I never thought it would get easier.

Roman stepped behind me and wrapped his long arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder. I put my hands on his arms and took a deep breath. He had been such a great help in my grieving process without either me or him even realizing it.

"You are such a strong and impressive woman, Y/N. I know you probably don't think so, but it's true." Roman said, giving me a kiss on the temple.

"You're right. I don't think of it that way. But thank you anyway. I appreciate it." I replied laughing, turning my head to the side so I could give him a proper kiss.

We stayed like that for a while. No words were necessary. We just enjoyed the closeness and the silence. On the road it was rare that we had time for ourselves during the day. It was often hectic and noisy. This was a nice change of pace.

"Would you like something to drink or eat?" I asked after a while.

"No, I'm fine. I ate something at the airport." he replied.

The day flew by. It was really nice to have time just for us, away from work and our responsibilities.

Roman had just been on the phone with his mother when I was cutting the vegetables for dinner. Then he suddenly stood next to me and held the phone out to me. I looked at him questioningly.

"Mom would like to talk to you." he said softly.

"Oh... um, okay." I said in surprise, wiping my hands on the dish towel before taking the phone in my hand.

"Hi Pat, how are you?" I asked.

"Hi, sweetheart. I'm doing fine. I was actually going to ask you this though. How are you? I know we just met, but I want you to know that you can come talk to me anytime." she replied quickly. I think she was a little insecure. She was just as sweet as her son.

"Thanks Pat, I really appreciate it. And I'm feeling a lot better. It's getting a little easier every day. Due in no small part to your great son." I explained and then put my hand to his cheek.

Roman looked at me with his big brown eyes and I saw his dimples appear as he smiled proudly at me.

I spoke with his mother for a few minutes until we said goodbye. She wished us a good week before repeating that she could be called at any time.

"Tell me, Romeo... Is it possible that your mother knows that I have a bad relationship with my parents?" I wanted to know.

"I think she sensed that was the case after I told her your parents live far away and that you've been handling everything on your own. She probably wants to take over this task. If that's too pushy for you, I'll tell her to back off," he replied while scratching the back of his neck.

"You take after your mother so much, Ro. You're both very protective. Which I think is very nice, by the way. I love you. And I already like your mother very much. I don't have the best relationship with my mother, so I think it's wonderful to have your mother in my life," I said.

"I love you, too. And I'm sure my mother does, too." he replied, laughing.

I took a step closer to him and put my arms around his neck. Roman looked as if a weight would fall from his shoulders. He was probably worried that his mother was going a little too far. But I found it touching. Probably his whole family was so compassionate. I could tell that family was everything to them and it made me proud that they obviously already counted me as family. And that after only 3 months.

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

"Roman? I'm back!" I called as I came back to my apartment after having something to do in the morning.

"Hey angel. I missed you." he said as he came over to me and kissed me.

"Are you ready to go?" I wanted to know afterwards.

"Yeah sure. Are you going to tell me where you want to go now?" he replied as he took the key from my hand and locked the door for me after we walked out.

I took a deep breath while closing my eyes briefly to collect myself.

"We're going to visit Eric and James," I said as we made our way to the car.

It wasn't long before we arrived at the cemetery and I took Roman by the hand to take him to the eternal resting place of my two men. In my other hand I held a bouquet of peonies. These had been James' favorite flowers.

"Today it has already been three years. Three years... hard to believe. I come here often, but this day is especially important to me. Just like on their birthdays. However, this is the first time that I brought someone with me. Before, I always preferred to be alone. So I could give free rein to my feelings. But now... thanks to you, I've come to the point where I can bear it without breaking down.

Being reminded of their death will always hurt. I will always have scars on my soul because of it. But I think I'm finally ready to accept everything that happened that day. And I owe that mostly to you, Roman. And no matter what else is written in the stars for us... I will be forever grateful to you. Loving you makes it hard to be sad. And I don't want to be sad anymore. I want to have a future with you.

I know we've only been together three months, but it's feels a lot longer to me. In a good way. The best way. I thought you should know that." I explained to him as I put down the bouquet, my eyes fixed firmly on the white marble tombstone. The golden letters glittered lightly in the glow of the sun.

"I am glad that you trust me so much, angel. I promise you that I will always be by your side. Words are not enough to tell you how much I love you and how important you are to me. These three months were just the beginning. And one more thing... I want you forever. It may be too soon right now, but I want you to know that I already have plans for our future," he replied as he took me tightly in his arms.

My gaze broke away from the tombstone and met the most loving gaze imaginable. With every fiber of my being I knew that this man was sent to me by my angels to help me get over my past.

#roman reigns #wwe #Wattpad #My writing #can i love again

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robbybirdy · 2 years

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36. Baking therapy on a budget Ft. Genshin Characters: Kuki- Chocolate Chip Cookies

Hello, every birdy. Today we are making a recipe that mostly everyone is familiar with, and going along with the recipe is a meme. The character themselves is not a meme, but their name is often associated with the recipe.

Shinobu Kuki (Shin-o-boo Cookie) is the deputy leader of the Arratiki Gang. She is an Inazuman character. She was once a shrine maiden, with her sister being a shrine maiden to this day. However, she knew that was not the right path for her and she found that Itto’s Gang was looking for members and she became apart of the Arrattiki gang.

Honestly, for chocolate chip cookies is there any other recipe that people use besides the Nestle Tollhouse recipe? “Yes, Robby there are thousands of other chocolate chip cookie recipes, and yes some of them are 1000 times better than the Nestle tollhouse recipe.” Well to that I say. Okay. But, for me, this recipe is a staple recipe.

This was one of the first recipes that I made for my family and I would get sad when it didn’t work, or my cookies were flat. And I would just study this recipe and figure out where I went wrong. What I needed to do next time, so that I could have the almost perfect cookies every time.

And the number 1 thing that I figured out was that I did in fact need to have my eggs and my butter/margarine at room temperature. Even if you are using spread versions of either of these, you still need to have it sit out for about 30 minutes. To make sure that it is at room temperature.

The link to recipe and the measurements will be down below. Feel free to check it out for yourselves.

The ingredients you will need for this recipe are:

All purpose flour

Baking soda

Salt

Butter

Granulated sugar

Brown sugar

Vanilla extract

2 large eggs

Chocolate chips

Optional nuts

You will want to preheat your oven to 375F.

In a small bowl combine your dry ingredients. This includes your flour, baking soda, and salt.

In a stand mixer bowl or a larger bowl, you are going to beat together your butter and both the brown and granulated sugar with the vanilla extract. Do this until the mixture is creamy. You want it to be light and fluffy. It will take about 4-5 minutes to get the consistency that you want.

Gradually add in your flour mixture. Don’t do it all at one time, or you will get flour back at you. And nobody likes flour in their face, or their lungs.

Stir in both the chocolate chips and the nuts.

Okay, so the recipe says to drop the cookies on an ungreased baking sheet. And I understand why they say to do this, so that the sugar on doesn’t crystalize. I understand stand it, however I like using parchment paper for all of my cookies, except my spritz cookies. I do this because I have had moments with chocoalte chip cookies where they just got stuck to the cookie sheet. It was not fun trying to get them off.

Once you have your cookies on the cookie sheets, you are going to be baking them for 9 to 11 minutes. I usually have one batch of cookies that I bake for 9 minutes to make them cooked with dough. And then there are other batches where I bake them for closer to 11 minutes. The reason behind this: Dad likes cookies that have carmalized, not characolized, on the bottom. While my sister likes them on the doughy side. So I try to please everyone.

You will want to cool them on the cookie sheet for about 2 minutes and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely.

I love this recipe. It is honestly such a good recipe. So simple and once you get the hang of it, you will be baking really good chocolate chip cookies. I don’t like saying that you will be making perfect cookies all the time, because there are probably elements that you don’t know about. And those elements may make the cookie imperfect. But as my mom always tells me “ Don’t worry about what it looks like, if it is edible we will eat it.”

I hope that you liked this recipe. Feel free to check it out down below. See you in the next recipe. Thank you.

Pinterest: Here

Recipe: Here

#ts3 #simblr #ts3 simblr #baking #baking therapy #recipe #food #Genshin Impact #genshin impact #shinobu kuki #arataki gang

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

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Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

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The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

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“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

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BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

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GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #tw blood #tw self harm #tw cannibalism #blood blood blood oops #I wrote this instead of sleeping because my hands cannot be stopped #typeity type type type #sorry if the formatting is off #i'm trying the new editor or whatever #if it's fucked I'll fix it whenever I wake up

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highlifeboat · 3 years

Note

A concept: Bela overhears her sisters talking to her mother about how clingy she is.

Cassandra and Daniela really don’t mean it personally, but their words sound so harsh in Bela’s sensitive ears. Her sisters are just discussing the things they’ve seen with Bela’s neediness, expressing that it’s concerning, and when Alcina reluctantly agrees that, yes, it can be a bit much at times, Bela shatters. Her sisters were one thing, but her mother...

Realizing she had to do something, Bela starts to pull herself away. She doesn’t eat or sleep; she only showers or bathes in frigid water, leaving her skin sore, ashy, and riddled with blisters; she barely leaves her room; and worst of all: she starts talking back to Alcina.

That last thing is what REALLY concerns everyone. And Bela hates doing it, but she feels the need to distance herself from her mother, and this is the only way. It’s better for everyone if she loosened her ties with them.

Eventually, Bela’s attitude gets so bad that Alcina finally snaps at her, and it hurts Bela more than she was expecting. She had been trying to prepare herself for the pain, but it still came to her like a knife in her stomach.

(Hurt no comfort)

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. It wasn’t something she would normally do. After all, she’d never want her sisters to listen in on one of her private conversations, especially with their mother, and in truth she hadn’t planned to stick around. But when she heard her name mentioned it seemed to make her pause. They were talking about her. Why? What had she done? Was she in trouble? Bela’s mind raced with possibilities, and pressed her ear against the door so she could hear a little better.

“You don’t think it’s weird?” Cassandra’s voice asked. “How… clingy she is?” Bela swallowed. Clingy? She wasn’t clingy. Well, maybe she could be. A little. “How she always wants to be around you? How much she seems to care what you think about her?”

“Yeah, and the lengths she goes just for a pat on the head.” Daniela’s voice agreed. “I’ve seen her go days without sleep trying to impress you with something. It’s not normal.” Not normal? Bela shifted. “And she’s been like this forever! It’s really weird.”

“And a little creepy.” Cassandra added. “Like, I know we were all attention seekers at first but even you have to think this is out of control, right? We aren’t crazy for thinking that.”

Bela heard her mother sigh, her teeth starting to grind together. “Bela can be… overbearing at times, yes….” The blonde sunk her claws into the door as her heart seemed to stop. “And it is a little odd.” Odd? “If I knew how to help her I would.” Help? Mama thinks you need help? That you’re odd? Overbearing? Not normal?

Bela felt tears in her eyes and rushed as quietly as she could away from the door and the conversation on the other side. Her sisters were one thing. Their complaints still tugged at her heart, of course, but they had been teasing her for years. But her mother? Her own mother thought she was overbearing? She didn’t understand, she thought she was doing everything right. Did Mother not like when she went the extra mile for her? Did she not like that she followed everything she said? Bela pulled her hair. No, she had to do something. She would gain her mother’s love back, and show her sisters she wasn’t “clingy”. She could change. Or, at the very least, try to.

That was probably where the downward spiral started.

She started off small. Putting no more into her work than necessary, and slowly lessening the time she spent around her mother and sisters. At first they had seemed a little impressed with her new found ability to say “no” to them, even if it was eating away at her internally. But her sisters were happy with her, and even their mother seemed content with her new attitude. That was all she wanted. But it was keeping her up at night.

When she sat alone in her room, the wind howling outside her window, it felt like torture. Her mind raced, some parts telling her how useless she was becoming, and others reminding her this was for the best. It was nothing but a constant whirlwind of conflicting ideals that rang in her ears no matter how hard she tried to make them stop. She’d even started losing her appetite, the stress of it all twisting her stomach into a terrible knot that refused to keep food anymore. She did eat in front of her family when they were gathered at the dinner table, if just to act like everything was fine, but she always purged it afterwards as if her body was rejecting it. Every part of her body was blistered, and ashen, and terribly raw from freezing showers, even the usually soft fabric of her dress was beginning to feel like sandpaper. Headaches came often, and felt like they lasted for days, and in private she would writhe and cry on her bed from the bouts of pain that were plaguing her being. It was becoming unbearable. But her sisters were happy, and her mother was happy. And that was all that mattered, wasn’t it?

Or, they had seemed happy up until Bela started back talking to her mother.

She didn’t know if it was the constant pain, the hunger, or the fact she always felt on edge, but her mother’s voice was starting to grate on her ears. It had gone from simply saying “No” to certain requests, to sarcastic comments she’d picked up from Cassandra, to down right snapping back at her mother for making comments to her. And it was killing her more than any of the pain she put on herself. The way her mother looked at her. The sadness that turned to concern. It twisted her heart with guilt. But this is what they wanted right? No more clinging to mommy? Bela wanted nothing more than to apologize and hug her mother, but she kept holding herself back. You don’t want to be overbearing. Mother wouldn’t like that. Walk away. Walk away. There didn’t seem to be any way for her to win this internal battle with herself.

And then they had a fight.

She couldn’t remember what had started it. If her mother had simply asked her something, or if she’d made another comment on her recent behaviour, or if she had just looked at her the wrong way. All she knew was that she’d stood from her seat and sparked the argument. She told her mother to stop trying to pry into her life. That she didn’t want her help. That she just wanted to be left alone. That they were all stressing her out. That she hated her sisters. That she hated her.

Bela said she hated her mother. To her face.

Her sisters froze, having come to see what the yelling was about, and the look on their mother’s face made Bela want to dissolve into the floor.

“I-I didn’t-” She jumped when her mother interrupted her.

“That is enough!” She snapped, and Bela’s entire body went rigid. “Young lady, I don’t know what has gotten into you these past weeks, but the way you have been acting is completely unacceptable! I have had enough of your attitude, and I will not be spoken to in such a manner by my own child!” She raised her hand to make a gesture, and Bela thought she was going to be struck. And you would deserve it, wouldn’t you? “I would expect this from Cassandra, maybe even Daniela, but not you!” She crossed her arms. “I’m very disappointed in you, Bela!”

The words cut into her so much worse than she thought they would. Bela had prepared herself for this, knowing her mother wouldn’t put up with her act forever, but to have it actually happen made it feel like her guts were getting ripped out. To be called a disappointment, it took the air from her lungs and strangled her with it. She couldn’t breathe properly, her heart was pounding in her ears. She hates you. Doesn’t want you here. She hates you! HATES YOU! HATE HATE HATE! Bela’s vision started to blur with tears, and, at a loss for what to do, she did the only thing she could think of.

She ran.

"BELA!"

Her mother called for her to come back, but she only ran faster. Through the castle halls, down the stairs, past a group of surprised and frightened maidens, and finally out of the castle’s main entrance and into the cool night air. It burned her skin, but she just kept going, out past the Duke’s cart and into the Vineyard, until her foot caught on loose rock and she fell face first into the hard ground. After that she couldn’t push herself up. Too sore, too tired, too hungry, too cold. So she did the only thing left she could do. She cried.

She cried, and screamed, and pulled at her hair. She curled in on herself, claws sunk into her scalp as if she were trying to rip out her brain. Her mother hated her. Her sisters probably hated her, too. She hated herself. Everything hurt. She just wanted it to stop.

She wanted her mother.

“MAMAA!” The wail tore from her throat before she had a chance to stop it. She certainly had the audacity, didn’t she? Mother wouldn’t rescue her. Not after that horrid display. “Mama….” It felt like her skull was splitting open. She didn’t deserve to see mother. To be held in her arms and cradled. Not after the way she’d acted. “I’m s-sorry….” It was far too late for apologies wasn’t it? Bela choked on her tears as her vision blurred and distorted. She felt terribly light headed. “M-M-Mommy, please… Please help me….”

#bela gets angst and only angst from me for this one #i struggled with a feel good ending so i just didn't give it one T~T #i'm sorry #asks #deepestfathomss #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #drabbles

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my-mt-heart · 2 years

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TWD 11x11 “Rogue Element” Review

And the TV gods said…let there be no ship baiting in episode 11 and there was no ship baiting. A small miracle. A sad one too. I guess I’m willing to settle for episodes without the ship I do care about now as long as I don’t have to deal with the mass hysteria. Not that this episode doesn’t deliver some great character moments. We finally get some movement on Eugene’s story which has been dragging out since last season, Connie and Kelly win the award for best sibling dynamic, and Carol gets to suss out the puppet master of the Commonwealth, so that’s all fine and well. I have to ask though, what the HELL is going on with this show tonally? It’s almost like it’s having an identity crisis because I swear, and I understand it’s intentional, there are moments where I feel like I’m watching a crime drama. Just not the good kind. I’m talking really campy shit. Course correct, Angela. I beg you. Whatever you do, don’t let Daryl and Carol go canon in a cheesy way that doesn’t speak to who they are or what the show is supposed to be. But, I digress…

Though it’s Inspector Eugene’s story that contributes the most to the absurdity, my heart still breaks for him. We start off seeing him with everything he wants, namely the Iron Maiden, ice cream loving girl of his dreams. They’re much more established than they were the last time we saw them together, as in sharing a bed and saying ‘I love you’ to each other. Why wait when, as he tells Princess later, “right now is all we’ve got?” It sounds like Eugene needs to impart some wisdom on Daryl and Carol, am I right?

But in true TWD fashion, his moment of bliss gets ripped away. We the audience see Stephanie packing a bag, though as far as Eugene knows, she’s completely vanished and down the rabbit hole he goes, trying to get to the bottom of what he believes must be a government conspiracy. Personally, I wish we got to see more of Rosita helping her best friend through his crisis, but as always, Princess makes for some good company (her pretending to have lasagna just to get through Eugene’s front door is pretty funny). She’s basically the Watson to his Holmes, listening to him rattle off all the clues he’s gathered and helping him sneak into the suspicious plumber’s apartment, only to get ratted out by an elderly neighbor and end up in jail. Until Lance Hornsby comes along to explain the “misunderstanding,” that is.

At the end of it all, Princess admits to Eugene that she thinks Stephanie just broke up with him, but Eugene’s still not ready to give up and that’s when the heartbreak happens. Doing some more snooping, he finds out Stephanie is basically just an undercover agent Lance Hornby assigned to get Eugene to spill everything about his communities. We’ll talk about Lance in a bit, but let’s focus on Eugene for a second. He is literally trembling with emotion after everything finally lands on him. Props to Josh McDermitt for conveying Eugene’s pain in such a compelling way. For fuck’s sake, the man shared his innermost thoughts and I’m assuming lost his virginity (??) to a catfish. Ouch. On the bright side, we finally get the big reveal that I think most of us already suspected, which is that Margot Bingham’s character, referred to by Pamela Milton as Max, is the real Stephanie. So there’s still hope for Inspector Eugene.

Connie and Kelly are also doing some investigating this episode in a way that feels a little more grounded, though still out of place (I’ve resigned to the fact that the Commonwealth arc is always going to feel jarring to me no matter what). While Connie represents the one ready to do whatever it takes to uncover the truth about Trooper Davis, Kelly is the one who’s there to reel her back in when it’s necessary, reminding her they’re only at the Commonwealth to get away from all the fighting for a while. They compliment each other really well and I can really feel how deeply connected they are, unlike a lot of the other siblings that have been on this show.

I know Connie is a controversial character in the caryl fandom for *ahem* reasons and while I will grant that she is super underdeveloped, I do like her. I like seeing her stand on her own two feet without using bigger characters as a crutch. Someone else talked about Connie’s lack of agency on the whole Donnie front, and I completely agree that’s problematic. But at the same time, it is interesting that in an episode where we are in Connie’s perspective, where she does have agency, Daryl still does not come up once in conversation. This is immediately following an episode where we are led/mislead to believe Daryl might be smitten with her, mind you. I can’t help but wonder if it’s because when we’re with Connie and Kelly, we’re actually seeing things objectively. As far as they’re concerned, there are no deeper feelings to explore. There may have been a silent question between them in the beginning of season 10, but I maintain the purpose of that was to alert the audience to the possibility of something more before the true nature of the relationship was very subtly explained in 10x05. Now, however, the romance is only visible through a specific lens – Carol’s – which Daryl may possibly try but fail to put on. Further elaboration on that can be found here where I lay out Daryl’s potential arc for the remainder of the block.

What I also find interesting, though it may or may not be intentional, is having Connie’s and Carol’s storylines run parallel to each other. In New Haunts, it’s heavily implied that Carol puts Connie on a pedestal. She thinks that her accomplishments in the old world make her more admirable, and therefore more worthy of Daryl’s love. But going along with Rogue Element’s theme of transparency or unveiling the truth, we can easily see they are equals. It doesn’t matter that Connie is working inside the system or that Carol remains on the outside. They are both intelligent, crafty, and determined enough to make equally important discoveries. For Connie, that entails planting a seed of doubt in the mind of one the Commonwealth’s biggest players, Mercer, and in doing so, acquiring a list of names I’m guessing are “undesirables.” For Carol, it means tapping into her past trauma to get the women at the poppy farm to open about the abuse they experienced, thus helping Lance, a bigger player in the Commonwealth than people probably realize, clean up his operation and giving him a strong reason to trust her. The only difference between Connie and Carol is that Connie is used to gaining recognition (in the form of her name in print) whereas Carol often has to be the unsung hero.

This is something she has in common with Lance. While on an excursion together, Lance tells her he does better outside the walls than inside and Carol responds that a lot of her people think the same. No doubt, Daryl is someone who comes to mind. Not to go on a tangent, but this scene reminds me so much of when Aaron took Daryl under his wing while he struggled to get adjusted to Alexandria. To me, it just goes to show that once again, Daryl and Carol are on opposite trajectories. This time it’s Daryl who’s putting on a mask and Carol, I presume, is finally tired of doing so. I think by the end of this block or beginning of 11C at the latest, they will finally start to get on the same page emotionally, which has been preventing them from being together.

Anyways. Back to Lance. He may seem to be taking Carol under his wing, but as Angela Kang notes, their relationship is transactional. Carol knows she can use him to get something she wants. It’s unclear now, but I think it’s possible Lance might try to exploit her too, especially considering how low he stooped to get information from Eugene. He’s a cunning motherfucker for sure, however I think it’s safe to say that if their relationship does eventually lead down a dangerous path, Carol will come out on top in the end and maybe she’ll finally get her recognition (from Daryl).

The ultimate takeaway here is that the Commonwealth isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and people aren’t who they may appear to be. Stephanie isn’t Stephanie, Lance isn’t all for one, Mercer isn’t the Commonwealth’s poster boy or at least he won’t be going forward.

Before I wrap this up, I wanted to quickly address the lack of screeners/spoilers this week. I know a lot of people reached out to me on the matter, and again staying with the theme of the episode, the truth is I deleted every single one of those messages. Why, MT? Why would you ignore us in our time of crisis? Because my lovely friends, I am trying to be more responsible about spreading needless panic. Let this episode stand as proof that not everything is about shipping. Let’s not treat everything like a catastrophe, okay? This is probably a good time to remind you all that articles about episode 10 are going to come out very shortly and they’re probably going to play up the Donnie/Carzekiel beats. Please, do not let yourselves get worked up about it. Deep breaths. Everything is going to be okay. Only five more episodes (of hell) to go and since my prayers were heard this time around, I ask that the TV gods now send us some meaningful Caryl scenes. Please and thank you. Amen.

11x09 “No Other Way” Review

11x10 “New Haunts” Review

#caryl #twd #twd spoilers #twd review #twd season 11 #twd rogue element

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teeninpanic · 3 years

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Five Brothers (1)

requested from @profoundtyrantharmony I really liked the idea so as soon as I saw the comment I knew I have to write it down, and I think I will make it into a multi chapter because as soon as I started to write, I got bunch of ideas (also don’t wanna rush things).

summary: Ragnar, Aslaug, Lagertha, Floki and the Ragnarsons gets teleported into the 21th century at y/n’s backyard

I’m sorry if you find grammar problems, I try my best, but english is not my main language. Hope you will like it.

The weather was dark and cloudy all day It made most of the people sad and grumpy. Today was your day off so you thought that laying in bad, binging a new show and putting on masks will be the best thing that you can do. As you did these things the weather just went more crazier. It started to rain really quickly and some loud lightning’s arrived as well. A big storm came. You never was scared of flash but this time, they were much louder and it made you jump a few times. You took off your mask and the weirdness didn’t go away It just grew thicker. Now everything smelled like salty sea. You went down to your living room and stared outside to your backyard. The rain just kept coming down and another thunder that ended up in your backyard made you jump. It was so close. You never saw a thunder this close. It almost made you go blind. And then you started seeing things.People to be exact at your backyard. You thought you are hallucinating because you didn’t get enough sleep this week but it all looked real. You counted the people at your yard. 9.

They all looked confused and extremely old. Not in age, but in they appearance. Maybe at this point you thought maybe you fell asleep watching Lucifer and now you are dreaming . You really got curious and you really believed that you were dreaming so without thinking you step outside. The nine people, two women and 7 men all stared at you. One of the man with blonde hair and a beard started to walk closer to you.

“You must tell us where the gods took us!” He yelled and you got scared a bit. They all were so much scarier closer. You had just a gut feeling that they all did something wrong in their life and as wrong you meant crime.

“the gods?” you ask back. “Who are you?” you are confused.

“I am Bjorn Ironside!” He kept yelling. “And this is my father. You must know him. He is Ragnar Lothbrok!” His father smiled with his calm face at you but you didn’t know him. Why would you know that old man anyway?

“I don’t know him. I’m sorry” everyone got surprised.

“How is that possible? Everyone knows him!” Another old man asked from Bjorn

“You are must be lying. You must know my mother Lagertha! the brave shield-maiden.” I wish he would stop yelling my neighbors are must be so annoyed.

“I’m sorry but no, and I am not lying.” the rain started to cool down.

“Where are we?” a younger one asked who looked simillar to Bjorn. He had a weird eye as well. It almost looked like a snakes eye.

“At my backyard? In (your city’s name).” they looked confused.

“Why did the gods send us here?” One of them got thinking.

“Let me introduce myself” a woman stepped to me with such a beautiful shaped eyes. “ I am Aslaug. Ragnar Lothbrok is my children father, Sigurd, Ubbe, Hvitserk and Ivar” She introduced them and I took good looks of them. Each of the brothers were different. “Floki is a great friend of the family, and Lagertha is Ragnar’s… first wife. And Bjorn is their child.” Thanks to her now I at least knew their names.

“We do not know, where we are so perhaps you could help us?” she asks and puts her arm to my shoulder. By her touch you knew you wasn’t dreaming and a panic grew in your stomach.

They were at your backyard by a lightning. They look weird and talk weird. And you are not dreaming. What is happening? How did they come here? By teleporting? That’s insane. It cannot be true. They said the gods took them but that is impossible. And yet the panic and yet the fear you invite them inside. They all look so surprise. At the window door, and the wall sized windows, the lights, the walls, your decors. Everything is so weird to them. You guys all have at least something in common. Weirdness and being afraid. Floki gets his hands on everything like he tries to figure out what each of the things are made of. Lagertha is deep in her mind. She looks like she regretted something. Ragnar in the first second doesn’t know where to look then watches Floki touching stuff. Aslaug is worried and it shows. She is so afraid she is shivering. The brothers are a bit more weird. Bjorn looks proud, like everything is in his hands. Like he rules the world and could get anything that he just wants. Sigurd is more shy. And not just his eye he actually looks like a snake. It’s like he is hiding something. Protecting it like it is his eggs. Ubbe is watching you ALL THE TIME. He cannot take his eyes off of you and Hvitserk looks lost but every time he notices that you look at him he smiles. You don’t know if he tries to get your attention or just protects himself, showing that he is all right. At lest you know Ubbe is for sure interested in you. And then Ivar. You didn’t notice at first, just when you invited them inside that he doesn’t use his legs probably because he can’t. He looks all broken and like he is planning revenge in every little second. When he looked back at you first, something moved inside of you, your heart, your veins, your stomach. All at once. He really was angry and showed no fear in his eyes. He scared you but also somehow got you interested in many ways.

‘So will you help us?’ Lagertha asked.

‘Yeah. I mean I don’t know how.’ you crossed your arms and started thinking ‘this all is just too weird’ you sighed.

‘you don’t say’ Ivar rolled his eyes.

‘Ivar!’ Aslaug turned to him.

‘Mother?’he gave a fake smile to her then his face went back to the grumpy normal one.

‘We can figure things out tomorrow.’ Ubbe said with a yawn. It was really getting late.

‘I agree.’ you said ‘you guys can take the living room.’ you showed them the living room and then pulled the couch out that had a little sound and they jumped. You let out a laugh because it was just so funny how everything is new to them. ‘I’m so sorry’ you said, then you gave them pillows and blankets.

Your living room was small and two of the brothers didn’t fit, (Ubbe and Hvitserk) so they slept at your room, at the floor.

You don’t even know what your doing. One thing is clear, you are doing something very freaking crazy. But they seem lost, you feel sorry for them and you want to help them maybe get to know them.

to be continued…

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

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If you're still taking request - your arranged marriage Au made me think of Jaskier as maybe someone cursed and in a tower, maybe everyone thinks the prince in a tower is guarded by a terrible dragon but the prince IS the dragon, and Geralt investigates?

Cute idea, elementalsight!

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“Rescuing a fair maiden, really?” Geralt said.

“The notice had he/him pronouns, so probably not exactly,” Yennefer said, looking at her nails. “And you need the money. Do you want the contract or not?”

Geralt picked it up from the table and smoothed the parchement.

“There’s really very little information here, they say he’s guarded by a dragon?”

“Mmmhmm,” Yennefer said, brushing at a chip in her nail polish that was probably imaginary.

“There’s no dragons out here, the terrains wrong, we’d know anyway.”

“Mmh, intriguing, right? Bet you wanna take that contract now.” Yen hadn’t looked up from her nails.

“Yen, what do you know?” He lashes cast odd shadows across her face in the torchlight.

“Nothing I’m telling you,” she said. Then she summoned a portal and disappeared with a swish of skirts.

Damn. He really was out of money though.

The tower wasn’t imposing or ominous. It wasn’t made of black stone or crooked, no random lightning storms or smoke, it wasn’t even that tall.

“Go away,” the voice came from a throat like a blast furnace and Geralt was staring into the slitted eyes of a mid sized (still big enough to eat him, just in more than one bite) dragon.

“Hello,” he said. “What’s a sky dragon doing in a place like this.” It was his special ‘talking to horses or big animals’ voice.

“Not a sky dragon,” the sky dragon grumbled.

“Yes you are, and what’s weird is that you should be up on some chilly cliff, not in a forest.”

“I’m a dragon, not any special kind. The eat you all up and burn your armor kind.” There was a pout in the voice now.

Geralt scratched one of the snout scales.

“Sure,” he said. The dragon huffed, blue-silver smoke rings curling from the nostrils. No eating occurred.

“I imagine I’m not very good eating,” Geralt said. Most witchers would probably at least give a dragon indigestion. “I also imagine you know something very important about the prince in the tower.”

The dragon, despite having eyes the size of soup bowls, did not meet Geralt’s gaze.

“He’s not even a very important prince, I don’t know why you’re interested.”

“I’d quite like to know why he’s imprisoned in a tower,” Geralt said, although a mental picture was forming. “And why I have a contract to kill both him and the dragon guarding it.”

The dragon pulled back sharply and hissed. A blade thin line of fire, blue and so hot it nearly seared off an eyebrow, missed Geralt by inches.

“Monster hunter,” the dragon said, shifting up on it’s haunches like it was getting ready to pounce. It wasn’t. He could see it in the muscles, they weren’t bunched right. The dragon didn’t want to hurt him, and the eyes just looked sad and kind of resigned.

“Yes,” Geralt admitted, holding up his hands, both currently sword free. “But I don’t want to kill him...or you. Monster hunter, not prince hunter.”

“Dragons are monsters,” the dragon said.

“Only to stupid people,” Geralt replied. “And sheep,” he added as an afterthought. “I want to meet this prince of yours.”

“NONE MAY ENTER,” the dragon said. “NOW LEAVE BEFORE I BURST YOUR EARDRUMS WITH A ROAR”

“You can’t, that’s only earth dragons, they’re all curled up under a mountain somewhere, and they’re certainly never blue.”

“The dragon looked nonplussed. “I’LL SPIT ACID IN YOUR FACE.”

“Swamp dragons,” Geralt said. “Green or yellow and a little smaller.”

“I’LL...”

“You were raised by humans,” Geralt interuppted.

“No?”

“Yes you were, otherwise you’d know more. Did the prince raise you? I won’t harm him you know, I only wan’t to talk.”

“NONE MAY ENTER.”

“Yes, you’ve said, but I won’t take him away. I just want to know why people want him dead.” Here Geralt looked the dragon right in the blue eyes, close enough to se the silver flecks in the iris. “Maybe I can help him, help you both.”

The dragon looked away. “Come back at sunset.”

Geralt did.

He yelled out for the dragon but it wansn’t there.

“I’m climbing the tower,” he called out. “Don’t flame me, you invited me.” And he clambered up the tower. Coming back down he’d be thankful for the rope he’d brought, because the stones were slick and smooth. He sat on the small windowsill and swung his legs into a room.

It wasn’t a very nice room. It was definitely a prison. small bed, one candle, uneven table and wobbly stool. A young man was sitting on the floor, cradling a lute.

“Are you the prince?” Geralt asked. He hadn’t seen a picture and although he felt silly making sure, he’d feel sillier if he got it wrong.

“Yes, are you the dragon slayer?”

“Witcher,” Geralt said. “And I did’t slay your dragon.”

“He’s not my dragon, he’s my fearsome jailer, keeping me inside this tower.”

“No,” Geralt said. “I doubt it. Show me your eyes.”

“No,” said the prince, not looking up.

“I’ll bet they’re a very pretty shade of blue,” Geralt said. “With silver.”

Blue and silver eyes met gold.

“You knew,” said the prince, swiping dirty, brown hair from his brow.

“You act odd, for a dragon, prince...” he sought the memory. “Julian.”

“Friends call me Jaskier,” said Jaskier. “Although I don’t have many. Just a little bit of dragon blood in the line, barely more than a drop, really, but I just so happen to get all of it. Anyway, I thought all dragons could look human.”

“They can,” Geralt said. “But they’re raised by other dragons, so they don’t act the same. Why are you inprisoned? And why was I sent to kill you.”

Jaskier sighed. “It’s not good, is it, to have a dragon for a son, even if he is your third son and won’t inherit. Father locked me up and had a mage cast a spell. As a dragon I can roam a little, but I can’t climb down the tower as a human, and I’m only human at night, some mishap with the runes as I understand. True love’s kiss breaks the mage’s spell.”

Geralt scoffed. “That pansy stuff never works.”

“It’s just what I was told,” said the prince, shrugging. “Somehow my father got the idea that true loves kiss will also make me no longer a dragon.”

“Not how that works,” Geralt said.

“No,” Jaskier agreed. “But he keeps sending heroes after me hoping they’ll kiss me.”

“The contract said I was to kill both of you.”

“Yes, well, that would also take care of the problem, wouldn’t it?”

“The problem being you?” Geralt said.

“The problem, generally speaking, being me.”

“We’ll break the spell,” Geralt said, although it wouldn’t be that easy.

“And then what? I can’t fight, I’ve no useful skills and nowhere to go. According to you I don’t even make a very good dragon.”

The young man slumped down. “But I’ve been so lonely,” he said. “You know I’ve been here five years? Just me and my lute, I think I’m going mad. You could even be a figment of my imagination.”

“Right,” Geralt said. “Getting you out first, dealing with other problems later.”

“Where am I going to find true love’s kiss?” asked Jaskier. “Do I kiss you?”

“You could try?” Geralt said. He really wouldn’t mind. The prince was whiny and a little dirty but very good looking. “But I was thinking more like, finding the runes and wiping them out.”

“You can just do that?” Jaskier leap to his feet. “They’re right up there,” he pointed among the cieling beams. “I can’t reach them on my own but the two of us...”

Geralt was already lifting the princling onto his shoulders. He didn’t weigh a lot.

“Just a little forward,” Jaskier said, accidentally kneeing Geralt in the chin.

“Hmmm,” he said, to avoid cursing, and shifted forward.

“Thery’re coming off! The runes are wiping away!”

He was loud but Geralt couldn’t blame him, five years was a long time. Although not compared to a dragon’s lifespan.

“They’re gone, I’m free!”

Geralt let the boy down from his shoulders and got a surprisingly tight hug and a very pleasant, extremely enthusiastic kiss.

“Just...you know, covering all my bases,” said the blushing prince. He really was cute.

Geralt carried him down the tower. Delighted, Jaskier turned into a dragon, then back to a human, then a smaller dragon, house cat sized, and perched on Geralt’s shoulder.

“Where are we going now? And what’s your name? Will I meet other witchers? Don’t forget to bring my lute?”

It would probably get old very quickly, Geralt thought. But the company was kind of nice, if a little scaly.

#geraskier #dragon jaskier #creature jaskier #true love's kiss is for sissys #the witcher #askbox answers

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massivedrickhead · 3 years

Text

Bechloe Week 2021 - Day 5

July 30th: “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

Read on AO3

This is heavy heavy angst. It’s pretty sad (imo) and also kinda long. So, you know, read at your own risk.

With a throbbing in her hip, and a tight pain across her chest, Beca eased herself out of the cab she’d taken, and looked up at the entrance to Barden Nursing Home.

Although she visited several times a week, it seemed like they added more stairs each time she came.

“Can I give you a hand ma’am?”

“Well that depends, Raheem,” Beca said. Her voice wasn’t as strong as it had once been, but anyone who knew her could still detect the bite of sarcasm that filled almost every sentence. “Are you going to call me ma’am again, or are you going to call me Beca?”

Raheem smiled at her from his driver side window.

“Come on Mrs Mitchell, I can’t call you that. What would my grandmother say if she knew I was disrespecting my elders?”

Beca laughed and shook her head. “If you insist.” She held out an arm for him to take, and he left his cab immediately.

Truthfully, she didn’t think she’d make it up on her own anymore.

The doctor had given her a year, give or take, but she knew her own body.

This would be her last visit to Barden Nursing Home.

“Do you want me to wait with the cab?” Raheem asked when they reached the entryway.

“No, no,” Beca said. “The girls are meeting me here, they can drive me home.”

“I’ll see you next week then?”

Probably not. “I’ll give you a call.”

Raheem was Beca’s favourite driver and he happened to be the owner of the cab company, so he always made sure he was the one to drive Beca to her destination.

His mother had been a fan of hers, he’d told her during one of their first journeys, which made her feel older than she was. Or older than she thought she was. It still surprised her when she looked in the mirror and saw an old lady looking back at her.

She didn’t really recognise herself anymore.

Now that her hair was grey, her back slightly hunched, her joints sore and swollen.

They had taken her drivers licence a few years back due to her deteriorating eyesight, and her hearing wasn’t what it was.

And now her lungs were shot. Her liver. Her heart.

Her body was failing her, worsening by the day.

She was in almost constant pain, but she still had her mind. Her mind remained as sharp as it ever was.

For that, she was grateful.

Most of the time, anyway.

Leaning on a cane, with a bunch of flowers in her other hand, she made her way through the reception area.

“Morning Beca,” one of the nurses greeted her warmly. “She’s in her room today, didn’t feel like being social.”

“Thanks hun,” Beca replied. “How is she?”

“One of her better days.”

Good, Beca thought. That’s good.

If today was going to be her last visit, she wanted it to be a good one.

She knocked on door 216, and waited for a response.

“Come in,” came a voice that was both achingly familiar yet totally alien.

“Hi,” Beca said, smiling warmly as she entered the room.

Chloe was sitting in a chair by the window, a blanket over her knees.

Her once red hair was now silver, tied in a neat ponytail. She was still looking outside, but Beca knew her bright blue eyes were now milky and flat. Clouded.

Chloe turned to face her visitor.

“Can I help you?”

Beca felt something hard lodge itself in her chest.

She would never get used to this feeling. She never wanted to get used to this feeling.

She waited for a sign of recognition. A smile or a twinkle, but there was nothing.

Chloe simply looked at her with a patient curiosity.

Well, Beca thought. That’s that, then.

“I was just wondering if you would like some company? I’m new here and I don’t really know anyone.” She placed the flowers in an empty vase of water that she knew the nurses had left there for her, like they did every time she visited.

“Yes, okay. That would be fine,” Chloe said. “I’m Chloe Beale.” She held out her hand for Beca to shake.

Beca shook it, trying not to let the stab of pain show on her face at the sound of Chloe using her maiden name.

“Beca Mitchell,” Beca said, fighting the urge to cover Chloe’s hands with both of her own.

Even after all these years, Beca still wanted nothing more than to pull Chloe into her arms and kiss her.

She couldn’t remember the last time they’d really kissed. The last time they’d lain in bed together while Chloe ran her fingers through Beca’s hair. The last time Chloe had been Chloe.

Chloe’s diagnosis and the progression of her illness had been sudden and devastating and brutally quick.

It was so cruel, Beca thought almost every minute of every day, that she still had Chloe so close yet she couldn’t have been further from her.

“I’m afraid you can’t stay too long,” Chloe said. “My daughters are coming to visit later.”

She remembers the girls, Beca thought. That’s good.

Some days Chloe had no recollection of their daughters. Some days, Chloe had no recollection of any of them.

But once in a while, God, it was so rare now, Chloe would remember Beca and who they’d been together.

“Is that so?” Beca asked. “How old are your daughters?”

“Oh, I don’t know, middle-aged-ish. One’s older than the other,” Chloe said, waving a dismissive hand. “Of an age where they think they’re old but they don’t know they’re actually still very young.”

“Hmm, they must be the same age as my kids. What are their names?”

“Well there’s Blake and, um… shoot. I had it. Begins with a B…”

No it doesn’t.

“No it doesn’t,” Chloe said, shaking her head. “Hayley.”

Riley.

“Riley!”

Beca smiled. If only I could get you to remember me so easily.

“Do you have grandkids?” Beca asked.

“No,” Chloe said with a sigh.

Yes you do. You have four, and they’re beautiful.

“Do you?”

“Yes,” Beca said. “A little too much energy for me to handle these days.”

Chloe seemed to study Beca for a fraction longer.

“You know, you look a lot like my wife. Older, of course, but there’s something about the nose and the smile…”

Beca laughed because if she didn’t she would cry. “Is that right? Well to be honest I wasn’t going to say anything, but you look a lot like my wife.”

“How weird,” Chloe said.

“She was beautiful, just like you,” Beca said, fiddling with the wedding band she still wore.

“Is she still with us?”

Beca looked into Chloe’s eyes, searching for some semblance of the Chloe Beale she had fallen in love with. Searching for a glimmer of recognition. A spark. Anything.

“No,” Beca said. “We lost her a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Chloe said, placing her hand on Beca’s as if that’s where it was meant to be. “How awful for you. You must miss her terribly.”

Beca let out a small laugh and tears filled her eyes.

It was unbearable to mourn someone who was sitting two feet in front of you.

“More than anything. We had,” Beca swallowed hard but her voice still broke when she spoke again, “the best life together. She was my best friend… my everything.”

Chloe squeezed her hand. “How lucky you are to have felt love like that. To have loved so strongly that even after all these years you’re still…” Chloe trailed off and looked out of the window again.

“Did… is your wife still with us?” Beca asked, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

“My… sorry, what did you say?”

“Is your wife still alive?”

“Oh, I don’t have a wife dear,” Chloe said, smiling. “This ginger is single and ready to mingle as my grandkids would say.”

Again, that knife in her heart.

Her grandkids were back, replacing her wife, and with them a spark of the old Chloe.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone here,” Beca said, the sadness taking hold of her now. Settling into her bones in the same way that the damp made her hip throb. “It’s never too late.”

“God, you’re crying, are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Beca said, smiling. “Just thinking about my Chloe has made me go all… well… foolish is probably the best word.”

“Your… Chloe?”

“My wife,” Beca said. “Her name was Chloe.” She swallowed as she looked at the uncomprehending face before her. “She was beautiful. So beautiful. Red hair and bright blue eyes and she was kind, and good, and safe. She was my best my soulmate. And she had a voice like an angel. I’d give…” Beca swallowed again, “I’d give anything to hear her sing again. To hear my Chloe sing again.”

“Beca…”

“Do you know what she said to me the first time we kissed? She promised I would never lose her. We were in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn and she promised I wouldn’t lose her. But that’s the kind of promise only a kid could make. They have no idea, how could they?”

“Beca.”

Chloe’s hand gripped Beca’s and squeezed it. Tight.

“My… Beca?”

And there she was. Back like she’d never gone away.

“Chloe? You… you remember me?”

“Of course I remember you,” Chloe said. Then her eyebrows furrowed, and she looked around her room. “This isn’t our house.”

“No.”

Chloe swallowed and nodded. “I’m… I’m not well, am I?”

Beca sniffed and shook her head.

“Alzheimer’s?”

“Ah ha,” Beca said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

“Like my mom… How long?”

“T-two years,” Beca said. “I tried to take care of you but then I fell and broke my hip and I just… I couldn’t manage on my own anymore. The girls insisted. You’ve been here for about a year. You… you seem happy.”

Beca knew this lucidity wouldn’t last.

Chloe would be gone again, and probably soon.

This was her last chance.

“I love you, Chloe Mitchell, do you hear me? My heart belongs completely to you. And one day… one day soon, I’m not gonna be able to come and visit you anymore. And there may be days where you remember me, but you won’t remember I’m gone, and you’re gonna feel hurt and betrayed. You’re going to think I abandoned you,” Beca squeezed Chloe’s hand again, “but I promise you, if it was up to me, I would never leave your side.”

“So stay,” Chloe said, her voice breaking. “Stay with me.”

Beca gave her a sad smile. “In a few hours, you won’t remember me, baby.”

“How could I ever forget you?”

“Mom?” A voice spoke up from the doorway, and Beca turned to see Blake and Riley standing there. “Is everything-”

“Girls!” Chloe said, brightly. “Come in and meet my new friend Beca.”

No.

Not yet.

Please, not yet.

“Your new friend Beca?”

Beca forced the smile back onto her face, and she stood up.

“Nice to meet you,” Beca said, looking into the faces of her daughters. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She turned to face Chloe.

“You’re leaving?”

“I should let you have some time with your girls,” Beca said. She took Chloe’s hand in hers, and looked at her wife for what would be the last time. “It was truly a pleasure meeting you, Chloe.”

“I’ll see you again I hope?”

Beca smiled. “Of course. You’ll remember what I said?”

Chloe tilted her head, her eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“It’s okay,” Beca said. “I know you heard it. It’ll come back to you when you need it.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, still confused. “Do you think… would it be okay if we hugged? You can ask the girls, I’m a hugger.”

She heard a small sniff and she saw Riley quickly leave the room.

“Allergies,” Blake said, quickly.

“Of course we can hug,” Beca said. “I’ve had a wonderful afternoon with you Chloe.”

Chloe stood, her blanket slipping off her lap, and she wrapped her arms around Beca, and Beca hugged back as tight as she dared.

She buried her face in Chloe’s neck and breathed in.

She still smelled like Chloe.

“You know Beca, I think we’re gonna be really fast friends.”

And everything inside of Beca broke.

“Hey, what is it?” Chloe said, softly as Beca clung to her and cried.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Blake said. She stuck her head out of the door and called to her younger sister.

Chloe shot Blake a look of confusion as this apparent stranger sobbed into her shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Chloe said, softly. “Come on, now, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“I love you,” Beca whispered into her ear, choking it out between sobs. “Don’t forget that, okay? I love you.”

“Okay, that’s, um, very nice,” Chloe said.

Beca’s chest started feeling tight as she struggled to get air into her lungs.

“Why don’t you sit down? We can call a nurse and-”

“No,” Beca said, quickly, struggling to suck air into her useless lungs. “I just need… in my bag.”

“Here,” Blake said, handing her her inhaler.

“Thank you,” Beca said, taking several deep puffs from it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry, Chloe.”

She looked at Chloe again, and knew with certainty it was for the last time.

She had gotten a couple of minutes with Chloe - the real Chloe - this afternoon and that was more than she could have hoped for.

“It really was lovely to meet you Chloe,” she said.

“Yes, you too,” Chloe replied, although she sounded less than convincing. “See you another time?”

“I look forward to it,” Beca said.

“Riley, why don’t you make sure… Beca, here, gets to where she needs to be,” Blake said, looking between her parents with pain in her eyes.

“Sure,” Riley said.

When they were away from the room, Riley pulled her Mom into a hug.

“That was a rough one, huh?” Riley asked.

“Unbearable,” Beca said. “She was… she was back. I had her back for like, five minutes. And then…”

Riley kissed her on the head. “Come on, I’ll get one of the nurses to get you some tea and when we’re done we can drive you home.”

Beca frowned. “It’s Thursday. Is Blake not doing dinner?”

“No, she is, but you don’t usually feel like company after a bad visit,” Riley said.

Beca waved a hand of dismissal. “I wanna spend some time getting climbed on by my grandkids. Will your new lady be joining us?”

Riley blushed like a teenager, despite being in her forties. “Not tonight, Mom. It’s a bit soon for a family dinner.”

“Oh come on, you’ve been dating for months! I want to meet her, I have so many embarrassing stories to tell!”

“I know you do,” Riley said. “Which is why we’re gonna wait a few more weeks before we scare her off. Don’t worry, there are endless amounts of family dinners ahead of us for you to embarrass me at.”

Beca smiled. “Okay,” she said.

She hadn’t told the girls she was sick. They had enough in their plates with Chloe, and she didn’t want to add to it.

When the time came, yes, she knew they’d be hurt. She knew that hurt didn’t even come close to covering it. They had all but said their goodbyes to Chloe, but they had no idea that Beca would be beating her to the afterlife.

She knew if she asked them, they’d rather she told them.

It was cruel to blindside them, but in a way wasn’t it crueler to have them watch her slowly waste away in a hospital? To leave them saddled with medical bills that their inheritance would only just cover?

Because she knew her girls, they wouldn’t just let her slip away. They’d want her to fight, and Beca was too tired for fighting.

No. She wouldn’t do that to them. She had already written letters for all of them - including Chloe - and she had left instructions with her solicitors that they would get handed out after her death.

In her will, she’d left most of her money to her daughters and Blake’s four kids, along with a lump-sum donation to Barden Nursing Home.

Her affairs were in order.

The girls didn’t need to know.

“Mom? Are you ready?”

Beca smiled as her daughters approached, and she gratefully took Riley’s hand when she offered it.

She was quiet on the drive back to Blake’s house.

“Sure you’re up for dinner, Mom?” Blake asked, glancing at her in the rear view mirror.

Beca smiled and nodded.

That night she basked in the attention of her grandkids.

The two twin boys - Jackson and Christopher, aged seven - kept trying to explain their favourite show to their grandmother.

They kept acting out scenes, speaking in odd voices, shooting each other with fake guns.

Beca tried to follow along but really she just wanted to watch them play.

The youngest - Davey, four - sat comfortably on her lap.

“Gram read it?” He said, holding up a book.

“Again?” Beca asked.

“Please?”

“Okay,” she said.

“Grandma!” Christopher said, pulling her attention back to him. “Grandma! Look! Then the bad guys do this!” He aimed a finger gun at his brother and deepened his voice. “Prepare to die!”

“Ah ha,” Beca said.

“Gram,” Davey tugged at her sleeve and then placed a hand on his book.

“Sorry,” Beca said, picking up where she left off from.

The noise and distraction was welcome.

It kept Beca’s mind from wandering. She needed a few hours where she wasn’t mourning Chloe.

It was working until ten year old Anne walked into the room, looking far too somber for any ten year old.

“Who’s upset you then?” Beca asked. “I might be old but I can still throw a punch.”

Anne smiled, but only just. “Is grandma better yet?”

Beca frowned. “No, honey. I’m sorry.”

Anne had been the apple of Chloe’s eye right up until the moment she started to forget her.

Blake and her husband David had made the decision early on that the kids shouldn’t visit Chloe. It would be too hard for them to see their grandma and have her not recognise them.

“Is she going to get better soon?”

Beca let out a small sigh. “I don’t know,” she said.

Anne’s face fell, and Beca’s heart broke.

She wished she didn’t have to leave these kids behind.

“Listen, your grandma loves you very much. And so do I. And we always will, no matter what.”

Davey started to fuss on Beca’s knee, and she turned her attention back to him.

“If I wrote grandma a letter, would you give it to her?” Anne asked. “I don’t want her to think I’ve forgotten her.”

Tears filled Beca’s eyes, and she smiled. “Of course. But you should give it to your Mom or aunt Riley. They’ll see her before I do.”

Anne nodded, and went off to her room.

The rest of the night continued the same way every Thursday night dinner did.

Blake complained that Beca ate too little and that her husband ate too much.

The twins would devour anything left too close to them, and Anne would pick out any bit of vegetable she found, no matter how small it had been cut up.

Then Beca would attempt to help with the dishes until she was told to cut it out, and Riley would drive her home.

Before she left that night, she hugged and kissed each of her grandkids, and told them all she loved them beyond comprehension.

She kissed Blake’s cheeks - standing on her tiptoes to do so - and briefly cupped her face in her hands. She told her she loved her too.

She patted David on the arm.

“You’re a good man,” she said. “You’ll take care of them.”

“Jeez, Mom, what’s got you so morbid?”

“Just the joys of ageing,” Beca said.

She didn’t know why she was feeling so sentimental that night, but she put it down to the emotion of the day.

In the car, Beca was quiet again.

“Something’s up with you,” Riley said.

“Today was tough,” Beca said, her head on the window. She turned to look at her daughter, and she seemed to transform in front of her eyes and back again. “Has anyone ever told you how much you look like your mom?”

“You, every day since I was born,” Riley said, laughing as she ran a hand through her short, ginger hair.

“This new girlfriend of yours,” Beca said, “is she nice?”

“What? Yes, Mom, of course.”

“She treats you well? She’s kind? She doesn’t blow up at wait staff or lose her temper in traffic?”

“She’s great,” Riley said. “Look, you can meet her soon, okay? She’s just a bit nervous around parents. She… she didn’t get on great with her own. They weren’t cool when she came out.”

Beca let out a sigh. “Poor girl. You’d think my generation would have grown out of that. Apparently not. As long as she makes you happy, and treats you well, then that’s all that matters.”

Riley laughed. “What, are you trying to make sure I’m married off before you kick it?”

Beca laughed too. “No. I just want you to be happy, my girl.”

“I am,” Riley said. “And not because I’m in a relationship, but because I just… am.”

Beca smiled. “Good. I’ve… I’ve had a very good life, Ri. And I don’t think I realised how good it was, how lucky I was, until your Mom got sick. I wish I could go back and just… enjoy it. Savour it. Those moments I spent with your mom where we would just… talk. And be with each other. I wish I could tell myself to appreciate each and every one.” Beca wiped her eyes. “Promise me you’ll do that?”

“Mom, you sound like you’re giving me some goodbye speech.”

Beca smiled and shook her head. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Riley said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure,” Beca said.

They pulled up outside Beca’s home.

“You want me to walk you in?”

“I’m not that old yet. I love you. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do. I love you too, Mom.”

Beca smiled at her daughter, and leant across the car to kiss her cheek.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Beca said. “I need to pop into town and pick up a prescription.”

“I’ll take you.”

Beca smiled. “You’re a good girl. See you tomorrow.”

Riley waved and watched as her Mom walked into her house and shut the door behind her. She drove to her girlfriend’s, her heart heavy with sadness for her parents.

Maybe tonight she should tell Sarah that she loved her.

It was true, she had always just been too scared to say it.

She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of anymore.

Beca’s house was as quiet as it always was these days.

She made a cup of chamomile tea, and popped open the Thursday PM slot on her pill caddy. She took the handful of pills and swallowed them with a mouthful of tea.

Then she settled herself in her favourite armchair, and turned on some music.

She was tired.

Really tired.

It had been such a long day.

She felt a tightness in her chest, but it wasn’t any worse than usual so she thought nothing of it.

The song changed and the opening notes of Titanium played out.

This was considered an oldie now.

Beca smiled, and closed her eyes as she remembered the first time she sang that song with her wife.

God, what a life they’d had.

She didn’t open her eyes again.

102 notes · View notes

moxfirefly · 3 years

Note

Okay okay okay I have something. You are so good at writing tmnt so here it goes. What about... Make up sex? ;) I imagine how there has been a huge fight with their girl. So much so that the turtles thought it would lead to breakup. But the SO returns and it ultimately leads to some angsty action. Of course you can imagine it however you want too! Make up your own reasons if need be!!

As somebody who breathes angst this is truly fun. You didn’t specify a turt lad so I hope you don’t mind me choosing and going from there. Just cause I’m intrigued ima go with my orange boi.

TW: Angst/Feels/Arguments

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

His hands hurt so much. When you ball your fists for too long the tendons tend to protest, the digging of nails into palms stings.

Mikey doesn’t like how loud his head feels right now. He sits against the wall closest to his tv, your scent is surrounding him and it only serves to make him more frustrated and gutted. The two of you have never gone past discussion into full blow arguing. He doesn’t like to fight with you, he does enough fighting on a nightly bases anyways.

But you got stubborn and he got selfish. Voices got raised, things were said and each one got hurt. He knows he can’t keep you glued to his shell forever, he’s had to learn the hard way, that there’s a life above that you inhabit and people around he’ll never truly meet. He knows every detail about your home life, knows your mother’s maiden name, how your aunt likes to get drunk at the family reunions and spill gossip. He knows your childhood home’s street name, the first guy you kissed, the first girl you kissed. Every aspect of your life you have told him in confidence, in laughter, in tears.

But Mikey is never gonna be part of it. He can’t really meet your dad and have that ‘if you break her heart I’ll break your legs’ talk. He won’t bond with your mom over their mutual love of cooking and secretly become her confidant. Knowing all these people but never truly knowing them is something he accepts.

It’s you leaving for three months back home. Three months away from him, three months where you’ll be surrounded by nostalgia you miss and love. Where your family will ask about ‘any boyfriends?’ and you’ll have to fake laugh your way through it. Three months of you being amongst people you constantly miss.

Surrounded by normalcy.

And Mikey wanted to be happy for you, he wanted to say fuck it and face time you every morning and night, watch you be happy to be in your hometown and maybe even get a virtual tour of it...

But that little dark part in his brain calls him a freak and reminds him constantly that you’ll get tired of surrounding yourself in craziness, monsters, end of the world scenarios etc. It just can’t seem to allow him to be happy for you. So the entire thing had ended in a fight, where dumb regretful things had been spat and you had marched off pissed and he had remained here equally pissed.

His brothers think he doesn’t get mad, they think he holds himself together through sheer ignorant bliss but it’s never been the case. Cause you’ve seen fire in his pretty blue eyes, you’ve seen those same very pretty blue eyes turn red with tear, you’ve seen so much of what he hides behind his laughter.

And fuck, three months of you away?!

Mikey pushes his knees up against his chest and sighs. His phone hasn’t made a noise despite his efforts to try and call you after he has calmed down. He debated going to your house and apologizing or at least going for a more calmer approach in expressing why this had left him so triggered. He wants to make sure this hasn’t pushed you both to your end, another nagging little thought that hasn’t quite shut its mouth.

Had this been the end? Had you walked out in a fury of frustration and decided this is it? Would you seize all communication and just erase the memories of him and your time together?

He’s hurting himself, he’s also getting angrier. This is stupid, he’s been stupid and immature and so are you for walking off!

It’s two hours before he decides to get up and toss his phone and try to consume his surrounding in order to relax. Mind over matter and all it’s wonderful bullshit. He doesn’t want to leave his room cause he knows the others must’ve heard.

He’s four hours deep into a shooting game when Raph pokes his head in with some food. He doesn’t look up, cause he knows Raph wants to be a good big brother and talk to him but he doesn’t want to when he’s one unfortunate mishandling away from crying. He lets him sit with him, watch him play and run a little bit of commentary that actually makes him smile just a teeny bit.

Even when Raph gets up and runs a large mitt over his head and tells him ‘broads are just emotional, she’ll come around’ he tries his best to not let his eyes betray him. Even when Raph gives the top of his head a kiss and pats his shell, he tries his best to keep it together.

It’s around 4am when he decides to look for his phone, chucked somewhere near his bed and maybe not broken. He finds it under his bed, screen a little cracked and one text message reading ‘r u awake?’ By you, it was sent twenty minutes ago and somewhere between debating calling or texting he hears the curtain in his room move.

You’re there.

Face two parts unreadable and a good topping of frustrated. Your face is bare, a mixture of sleepwear and winter clothing that clearly shows you had tried to sleep it off but couldn’t. “I just saw this... sorry” Mikey wonders if that sorry is related to the unread text or more so this mess. You look away, the energy around you can be felt. That upset way you bite the inside of your lip, how you cross your arms and run through every possible way of starting your side of things to say.

“Why are you really mad about me going back home?” You can’t meet his gaze and Mikey is thankful because he feels an oncoming headache. “I dunno man...” He sets his phone on his makeshift night table and runs his hands through his face, mask being taken off with the motion.

“That’s not an answer, you’re mad about something and I want to know” This time you do look and Mikey’s playing with the shoe string on one of the sneakers that hangs from the bunk bed. He chooses to stay quiet because if he does say something, what are the chances that you’ll understand?

“Mike, talk to me” He huffs a bitter laugh, ‘Mike’ is the he’s in trouble name. But he feels more obstinate than ever because why talk?

He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at his feet. “I didn’t come back in the freezing cold to actually work through this if you aren’t going to throw me a bone at least-” Your tone is a mix of exasperation and sadness. “You go back and you forget about me” Mikey cuts through.

You furrow your brows at his statement. “What?” You take a few steps but he side steps you and that somehow cuts you. “You go back home and you realize it’s better to be in a normal environment that isn’t New York, in the sewers, with me-“ He motions to all of him. “And all the crazy shit we do” He glares, not necessarily at you but more so at all of this, the current state of affairs.

Running a frustrated hand through your hair you try to settle your thoughts. “You can’t jump to a conclusion like that and you know it, I’m not skulking off back home and ghosting you! And frankly it fucking hurts you think of me like that” You reach for him because Mikey can’t be still for five seconds if his life depended on it, but he grabs your hands and refuses to let you lull him with your touch. “It’s not a conclusion it’s a friggin possibility! Do you see us actually being endgame in all this shit!” He grips your wrists, you want to get through to him but he’s lost in that terrible negative mindset.

“We both aren’t mind readers! But trust me that leaving you is nowhere on my list of achievements” You manage out of his grip and grasp his face. “You are being unfair and stubborn as fuck but I love you okay?” Your voice sounds almost angry, angry at the very idea of living in a world where you and him don’t coexist together.

“I can’t even marry you! I can’t even knock you up!” Another bitter laugh escapes him, he knows your parents would die for some grandkids. Why is he so different, why does he have to be so fucking different he wonders bitterly.

“I don’t care, I don’t fucking care about a piece of paper or screaming babies, I care about you and I want you and I’m fucking happy with you stop sabotaging it” You press your hands to his hard plastron and scowl. “Stop lying to me then! Don’t pity lie at me when I know you want all that shit” He frowns, eyes watery and not caring if he wakes everybody up in the Lair.

Mikey’s ready for the rant of a life time but then you have to go and kiss him.

Kiss him hard, kiss him with rage bubbling on the skin of your lips. He can taste your words, taste every way you would’ve shut down his words with basic truth and facts. You pull away, forehead still pressed to his and you mutter against his lips. “You’re so fucking insufferable, shut up and listen to me” Your eyes are watery as is, hands at his neck to keep him at eye level.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much” You take a shuttering inhale, fingers skimming up towards his cheeks. Mikey can only watch you, take in every detail he’s been obsessed with for so long. You’re so beautiful to him, even when your angry crying, yelling at him to open his eyes. You’re warm and real in front of him, against his body. You watch his eyes go from that calm before the storm into the aftermath.

He’s so real to you, so lovely and he doesn’t seem to understand it.

There’s a pause. A mere ten second reprieve where only silence and breathing remain. Mikey feels your hands slowly slide down his body, nails scratching his sides. You keep your eyes on him, a hand slides into his shorts, index finger mapping out the slit that encompasses his most intimate part. Mikey shudders, sensitivity racking his body at your touch. He walks you up against a wall, a hand on your neck and another finding it’s way into your own pants.

He teases you, just as you tease him. Knees buckle when he pushes your lips apart and feels your moistening folds. There’s already a bump where your touching him and the way he’s tensing gives way to how he’s trying to hold himself in. “Come on, come on” You weren’t aware just how hard you’ve been breathing till you speak. Mikey’s mouths falls open, eyes closing as he drops down into your warm awaiting hand. You stroke him, teasing the flesh of his head just to make him buck and recapture your lips. His own finger finds its way in you, stretching and making your breath hitch.

The only reason you both pull away is to tear at one another’s clothes, an easy accomplishment when Mikey’s got just his shorts. He isn’t soft with your clothing either, yanking and nearly tearing, his on his knees pulling off your underwear. Your scent hits him and he’s gone, trapped in all that is you. He inhales sharply as he gets back on his feet, arms hooking under your thighs as he picks you up.

You both land on the bed, a huff escaping you and a grunt when Mikey feels you push him so you can straddle him. You don’t quite finesse this, it’s not your usual seductive ways that leave him a mess. It’s rough, there’s still frustration lingering in the air and Mikey’s okay with it because he knows he might go to rough if he runs the show.

So you do.

Sinking down on his hard cock with a long guttural moan. Mikey digs his fingers onto the plush skin of your bottom, just enough to make you sit on his cock and relish it. Eyes closed he just basks, the tightness, the wetness, the warmth. His eyes flutter open when he feels your palms on his plastron, firm and with purpose. His hands know already, they go up and rest on your waist and he swallows a churr when your hips begin to move fast and hard.

That rhythmic slapping of flesh, your rear hitting his lap on each thrust down. Mikey can’t stop churring, eyes on your own or slipping down to your beautiful breasts bouncing. You notice and lean forward, he buries his face between him, arm going around your waist as he lifts his hips to help you cross that line. The sweat of your skin is on the top of his tongue as he sucks a bruise onto your breast, you’re tightening up so much, cussing and begging for him.

You both can’t stop moaning, once you’re cummin and Mikey follows closely behind. He holds you close to him as you ride out the sensations, tightly secured against his strong body, held and loved. You’re a broken record of ‘I love you’s and so is he, filling you up and up.

Collapsed on top of him, chest heaving, you still feel the strength in his arms as he hugs you to him. You bury your face on his neck, body shaking with sobs as he whispers he’s sorry over and over as he kisses your shoulder, neck and head.

You say it too, against his skin.

Where you wish you could stay everyday.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt michelangelo x female reader #michelangelo tmnt #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt michelangelo #mikey tmnt #tmnt mikey #michelangelo x reader #mikey x reader #Mikey #Michelangelo #smut prompt #ns*w #ask #bumbleburn

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 3 years

Note

Hey 👋

How are you?

Could I please request a king Arthur prompt when he first starts courting his partner but originally they cant stand him like they think hes too cocky but he worms his way into their heart 🥰

Pairing: King Arthur x F! Reader

Warnings: 18 + for language, a little angst.

Masterlist

The Queen

“Arthur, you could have any girl in the entire realm at your fingertips; why did you have to choose this one?” Wet Stick sighs, watching from under his cloak and cursing his friend for his taste in women. “He couldn’t just pick one of those nice noble ladies; he had to pick a headstrong girl with a chip on her shoulder,” he grumbles to himself.

You locked up the shop behind you and take off home, turning once to wave into the shadows knowing the knight is there watching. He emerges on a large brown horse, coming to walk beside you. “Good Evening, Sir Tristan; how was your day today?” you smile up at him, and he laughs with a shake of his head.

“How do you always know where I am, my Lady?” You reach into your knapsack and pull out a warm cheese roll wrapped in cloth, handing it up to him. “Thank you, ma’am,” he unwraps it and takes a large bite, moaning at the taste. “Is this why he wants to marry you? Because of how delicious your baking is? Honestly, if the King weren’t enamored with you, I’d probably ask you myself,” he laughs.

You groan, pulling your green cloak above your head. “Sir Tristan, how many times must I ask that you call me by my name? I am no lady, just a baker, no one special.”

“The King would disagree.” You cringe and walk a little faster towards the warmth of your cottage. “He thinks you’re the most beautiful maiden in the entire Kingdom, and Arthur always gets what he wants, and that’s you, my lady.” You stop and glare at him; he holds his hands up in defense using your name.

“Why would I want that cocky, overbearing brute of a man to marry me? He can go to hell for all I care.” Tristan doesn’t take offense like other knights because he knows how overbearing his friend can be. It’d been amusing to see Arthur fall for the beautiful, headstrong woman. Every flower ended up in the trash, letter burnt, and request for an audience denied. Arthur was close to giving up on courting the woman, but something was holding him back.

“Have I ever told you what he was like growing up?” You roll your eyes, already dreading the tale that is sure to highlight only the King’s good points.

“No,” you mumble, “but I’m sure it some heroic tale.” He barks out a laugh, and you stop to watch him, “what’s so funny?”

“What do you know about the King? Honestly, tell me,” he jumps down from the horse and grabs the reins walking beside you. “Because if that’s your opinion, then you don’t know him at all.”

You think about all you know about the King and realize with an ache in your belly that you didn’t know much about the King besides the rumors you’d heard. “Well,” you stumble, “he’s arrogant...uhm, he doesn’t care about anyone but himself...and,” you struggle to come up with something else, much to Tristan’s amusement.

“Arthur was raised in a brothel,” you pause, raising a brow, “I’m telling the truth. When his parents were murdered, he floated down the river in a boat and was found by the prostitutes washing their clothes by the river. They took him in and raised him. He, in turn, grew up and protected them. The brothel was one of the only places in all of Londinium that women were treated with respect. If someone got too handsy with one of the girls, Arthur would beat them within an inch of their life before they’d even think to disrespect a woman like that. Then he’d take all their money and give it to the girl.”

“He’s also really smart, smarter than the lot of us, at least. He had coffers hidden in the wall of the brothel behind a bookshelf. He dreamed of getting out and buying himself a piece of land, building a home. The girls would all be taken care of and wouldn’t have to be prostitutes anymore. He was damn close too before we found out he was the born King.” You mull over his words and keep walking closer towards your home.

“How did he feel about becoming the born King?” you ask quietly.

Tristan smiles, rubbing the snout of his horse affectionately. “He hated it. Didn’t want anything to do with the sword or being King. It wasn’t until he saw his friends being attacked, the Black Legs had us surrounded, outnumbered; there was no way we could win the fight. Arthur begged us to run away, that he was what they wanted, he was ready to die for us. Arthur embraced Excalibur and killed them all, saving us. He’s loyal to a fault that one. Then when Back Lack-” he takes a shuddering breath, and you reach out and rub his arm.

“If it’s too painful, you don’t have to say.” He wipes at his eyes with his cloak and smiles at you.

“No, I won’t let his memory fade because it makes me sad to talk about him. Back Lack was our friend, and Vortigern murdered him in front of his son and Arthur. Blue screamed, and I can still hear his wails in my head; Arthur took his son in and has become like a father to him.” You think of the young boy who follows behind the King and smiles.

You reach the door of your cottage and put your hand on the knob, dropping your head to the door with a sigh. “What does he say about me?” you ask, turning to look at the Knight, “I know he’s must have told you why he is trying so hard to court me.”

Tristan smiles, seeing the small crack in your cleverly crafted armor. “While you may not know the King at all, he knows everything about you. I dare say he’s in love with you.”

You search his eyes for any lie and sigh, opening the door and stepping inside. “Wait here for a moment, please,” he nods, and you close the door behind you. Emerging a few moments later in one of your clean dresses and a light blue cloak of fine fabric the King had gifted you, too delicate for you to throw into the trash. “Take me to him, please,” you ask, pulling the cloak over your head.

“Yes, my lady,” Tristan smiles, mounting his horse and reaching a hand out to pull you up behind him. He rides swift to the looming gates of the palace, and the heavy wooden doors creak as they’re pulled open. The hour is late, and there is only a handful of guards around watching you with a curious expression. You slide off the horse and follow closely behind Tristan as he weaves through the labyrinth of hallways before reaching a large door. He knocks out a combination, and Arthur’s voice comes from inside asking you to enter.

Tristan stands back and gives your hand a squeeze, “good luck. I promise he’s worth it.” You smile, trembling, and give him a return squeeze. You watch his back retreat and take a deep breath before turning the handle.

“Did she get home alright, Stick?” You follow his voice, stepping around the chair and looking down at him. He’s writing a letter, the quill moving across the page, a half-full glass of wine on the table to his left. “She didn’t see you, right? You know how much she detests having a guard.”

“She didn’t make it home okay,” you say quietly, but he jumps anyways, looking up at you with wide eyes. “But she did find her way safely to you, my King.” He rises from his chair and stands tall beside you, gazing into your eyes, and for the first time, you see past the facade of the King he’s created and instead see the man, Arthur.

“Are you well, my darling?” he asks, cupping your cheek; you close your eyes and lean into his touch. His smile is bright enough to rival the sun, and you smile back at him just as brightly.

“I learned about you tonight, my King,” he furrows his brow, “Sir Tristan was telling me tales of how you became King.”

He grins, “And what did he tell you?” He pulls away, pouring a second glass of wine and handing it to you. He takes your hand and leads you over to the roaring fire, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of it. You take a sip of the wine and put down the glass, climbing into his lap and putting your head against his shoulder. His hand comes up to wrap around your waist, keeping you snug to his side, putting down his glass of wine, and putting the other hand in your lap.

You roll his fingers between your hands, feeling the callouses from years of fighting coarse against your skin. He leans his head against your own, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. “He told me about you growing up in the brothel, how you protected those women, and their honor. He told me how you begged them to leave when the Black Legs came, and only when your friend’s lives were threatened did you finally wield Excalibur.”

You sit up and look him deep in the pools of blue that are his eyes, lowering your voice to almost a whisper. “He also told me about Back Lack and Blue. How you’ve become like a father to him,” you trail off, looking down at his hand in your own, “he said you love me.” You look up and catch the storm in his expression, the showers of tears that threaten to fall as he’s reminded of his lost friend.

You cup his cheek and brush your fingers beneath his eye collected them like diamonds. “He died because of me because I wasn’t able to protect him.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you whisper. He takes a shuddery breath, and you hold on to him with both hands, keeping his eyes on you. “You did the best you could; you are raising his son. He wouldn’t blame you for what happened.”

He tugs you closer, and your foreheads touch, “he would have liked you,” he gives a watery chuckle. “He’d have loved your baking, the way you stand up for yourself, and call me out on my bullshit.” You laugh, and he leans closer, “Tristan was right.”

“About what?” the ghost of his lips brushes yours, and you gasp at the touch.

“I love you,” you pull back a little, “I love how strong you are, loyal, fierce, and fucking stunning. You are everything I could ever ask for, and I know I came on too strong. I pushed you away when all I wanted was to hold you close like this. From the moment I saw you, spoke to you, the moment you chucked a rolling pin at my head, I knew.”

You cringe at one of the more colorful visits you had with the King. “What? What did you know?”

“That you are much more than a baker.” He nuzzles his nose against your own, and you give a breathless reply, begging him to tell you what you are. His lips touch yours slowly, just barely touching, and your eyes slide closed, moving closer to him when he whispers, “you’re my Queen.”

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#King Arthur #King Arthur x Reader #Female Reader #King Arthur Legend of the Sword #Charlie Hunnam #Charlie Hunnam Character Fanfiction

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ellitx · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8: Unexpected Sojourn

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

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art belongs to rome

word count: 3.2k

“[Name].”

You flinched when your name slipped from his lips. Venti furrowed his brows in worry and slowly knelt down before you, reaching his hand out to brush your cheek. You crawled backward before he could touch you.

Fear had once again found you. It spoke to you in its cackling voice. It told your legs to go weak, your stomach to lurch and your heart to ache. Your eyes averted from his own gaze. You don’t want to look at him.

You fear facing the unknown Venti in front of you. What happened back then still lingered inside your head. Those cold and ominous orbs when he looked at you made you shudder. You know that intense gaze wasn’t meant to be directed at you, yet it scared you so much the more you think about it.

His heart ached to see you distancing away from him. It feels so cold, like concrete drying his chest. It was unexpected for him to experience a heartbreak— top of the world one minute then cut down the next. Why is that? Is there a part of him that you dislike seeing? You do know that he’s trying to help you, right?

“[Name], what’s wrong?”

He softly asked, his voice sounded so pleading. As much as he wanted to near you, he kept himself in place to prevent you from keeping away. You have always imagined him holding you so many times, but now more often than not you find the future you seek is an empty shell.

Things have changed abruptly— he changed, so fast, you worry that he might not be able to control himself in front of you.

“It’s nothing…” You muttered. You said you aren’t scared but he can see your body movements are tighter and your yearnings reduced. Your smiles were shorter and silence longer. You didn’t even look at him as you said that.

Venti bit his lip as his face contorted. He so badly wanted to wrap his arms around you and just bury his face on your hair, taking in the fresh smell you have, yet you were scared. Scared of what though? He doesn’t know the answer to it. Was it because of Boreas?

“Please look at me…”

He begged. There was something in his voice, a pain behind it. You watched. You watched his eyes and then you knew. The anger was nothing but a shield for pain, like a cornered knight aimlessly lunging his sword, scared for his life, lonely, and desperate.

His emotions turned jagged and his insides tight. He wanted to cry out and reach out to you. Love him, sit with him, hold his hand, say his name, look into his eyes, and say you love him. He waited, heart in his mouth, hoping you’ll come back to his arms.

It hurt you. It hurt you to see him like this. The emotional pain in those green gems swelled you with guilt that you’re staying away from him. You impulsively extended out your arms and apologized.

“I’m sorry,”

Venti blinked in surprise yet he didn’t hesitate to come to you. Your arms were wide open, welcoming him in, and he immediately entered them then wrapped his arms around your waist so tightly.

His hug is stronger than anything you’ve ever known as if holding you wasn’t quite enough, he has to feel every ounce that you are pressed into every ounce that is him. In that moment of a feeling of you so close has awakened him, more alive and relieved than he has been in so very long.

He nuzzled onto your neck, feeling safe against you. Your warm hug took the pain away and just let himself melt and be comfortable. You slowly reached up to his head and caressed his dark locks.

“I’m sorry…” You repeated. “I… I thought you’re mad at me.” Your gaze darted downwards with your arms falling back to your side. Your eyes remained glassy for a moment and that’s when he finally connected the dots together.

You were scared seeing him furious. It’s an emotion he never really shows it often and is rare for him. This side of him was uncommon to see and you’ve never seen him felt like that once in your life of knowing him for all these years. Anger, pain, sadness— so intertwined that perhaps his name is ought to be tweaked to reflect the true origins of these emotions.

Venti pulled away and looked at you, his eyes calmly searching yours. He raised your chin to make you look at him and pressed his forehead with yours. “I’m not mad. And I’ll never ever be mad at you.” Warm hands then cupped your cheeks and when he spoke, you can feel his warm breath against your face, and it’s just now you're realizing how close you two are.

“I’m worried about you,” The distance between your lips were just a few centimeters apart, almost brushing together. “And I don’t know what to do without you being here with me.” He was firm and gentle as he pulled you in and it caught you off guard the moment his lips brushed with yours. In that kiss was the sweetness of affection, a million thoughts condensed into a moment.

He laced his fingers with yours and tugged you close to him. You never quite figure out the beauty of his lips was more the softness of their association with the words he spoke. He always loves being near you, touching you, and holding you in his arms. His warmth would seep into your being and comfort you without ever opening his mouth.

You’d melt onto him easily as you belonged next to him as he belonged to you. And each time before you part, the aching to be in his arms would begin anew.

—

“Say Aether,” Paimon started catching the traveler’s attention as he stopped munching his food. He hummed at her and raised a brow. “Isn’t the Tone-Deaf Bard a little bit shifty this day?”

The blonde swallowed his meal and took a napkin wiping the crumbs sticking on the corner of his mouth then asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean aren’t you curious to know who this maiden Venti keeps talking about?!” Her face was so close whilst she floated above him. Aether sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This pixie really doesn’t know where to not poke her nose into, does she?

“It’s not our business and we shouldn’t pry onto it anymore.” Paimon puffed her cheeks and stomped her feet onto the air in annoyance. It did irk her that her companion was not interested in this topic, but her curiosity is eating her up.

“Is she perhaps the one he told us in his story?” She didn’t change the topic as she grinned while taking another piece of the Mushroom Pizza. Aether simply shrugged and just ignored her rambles, absently staring onto the wall of Good Hunter’s diner.

If it really was the girl Venti mentioned from the story of his old friend, does that mean she’s awake already?

“Anyways we’re still going to check it out, right?!”

He snapped out from his dazed state, owlishly blinking before looking back at her. “Hm? What are we talking about again?”

“You’re not even listening to Paimon! Well never mind, Paimon can just repeat it to you.” Before she could utter a word, Aether had cut her off. “If it’s about following Venti, we don’t have the slightest clue to where he could be.” His floating companion grumbled and crossed her arms in aggravation since what he said did have a point.

Albeit disappointing as it may be, she did actually hope they could investigate it later. “Bummer…” She muttered to herself and took another bite of the pizza.

Aether rummaged inside his bag and clicked his tongue at the sight of the lack of crystals he currently has. He forgot to collect more to enhance his weapon to the blacksmith, great. He disappointedly sighed and zipped his bag close. Sufficient mora, shortage of crystals. Seems like they’ll have to mine them before he could enhance his trusty sword.

“We’re going to Stormterror’s lair after this.” He announced. “Now? But we haven’t finished eating these yet! We still have another order coming.” Oh, right, the Sticky Honey Roast.

“We’ll eat Sticky Honey Roast first then go to Stormterror’s lair.”

“Aww yeah!”

The wait was fortunately not that too long. The waitress stopped by their table and served them their meals. The sight and aroma of the food made them drool in hunger, their souls wanting to ravish it in instant. The two grabbed their fork and knife, hastily slicing to get their piece, and enjoyed the delish meat feast prepared for them as they shoved a forkful of it into their mouths.

Warm food melted in the back of their throat and Paimon, who was dissatisfied with the size of her spoon, raised the plate to her face, wolfed it down, and licked the plate clean. Her body shook as she belched loud and long.

Aether cringed at her lack of manners in dining, looking away from the other customers who gave them a glance of curiosity at his guide. This emergency food will be the death of him.

After finishing their meal and paying up, the two went off and started their journey to the lair. The embryonic oaks laid upon the grass, their brown eyes a gift to the eyes. He could watch them for a while, these acorns, hoping the silent bliss would extend if not for some group of slimes and hilichurls attacking them.

Fighting was easy and not too much of a trouble for him, a sign that he’s gradually getting stronger. He smiled to himself and let his sword vanish into thin air on his back. Just a few more steps and he can finally gather the crystals he really needed.

The path went onwards and there was much journeying ahead in front of them. He paid no mind to Paimon’s ramblings about what food they should get later. Sheesh, why does she can only think of nothing but food? Just how big is her stomach that can handle so many?

Still, he appreciated her little babbles to distract himself from their quiet walk. His golden orbs then lit up at the sight of the familiar entrance getting bigger each step they take. His leg stopped from leading him and peered at the big tower looming before his small form.

The memories of the Stormterror issue returned to him. The agony and pain the poor dragon was suffering, the blood clot that drastically continued to consume him as he writhes and cries while no one was there to help him. Venti, the Anemo Archon, was there to help Aether in his journey and to aid in freeing Dvalin from being corrupted by the Abyss Order.

They were able to set him free and save him from poison with the help of the Dandelion Knight and Darknight Hero of Mondstadt. Still, even after that incident, there are still no clues as to where his sister could be.

Aether took the chunk of crystal and placed it inside his bag. He heaved a sigh and stretched his arms to ease the cramps formed on his tense shoulder due to the struggle of breaking the crystals from the ground.

“Are those enough?” Paimon hovered above him and took a peek inside as she asked. The blonde shook his head and sled the backpack over his shoulder. “Just need two more and then we can go back.” He took out his map and checked the current location he is in to mark the spot.

“Oh! Paimon remembers there are few over there.” Her small finger pointed on the spot of the map near to where they are and tugged his scarf to make him follow her. Few long strides here and there, his brow quirked when Paimon stopped midway guiding him.

“Uh… are you seeing what Paimon’s seeing?” His brows knitted together at her ambiguous context behind her words. “What are you talking about?” He questioned and looked in front seeing nothing but thin air.

“Over there! Is that a dead body?!” She flew behind him and took a little peek over his shoulder, her form slightly quivering in fear. He squinted his eyes to take a closer observation to where her finger was directing. Upon more detailed inspection, he can faintly draw out the figure that was limped on the ground.

In instinct, his legs immediately guided him towards the figure and saw an unconscious form of a girl the closer he gets. He knelt down and drifted his hand on your chest to check your pulse.

“She’s just unconscious.” He assured Paimon. She sighed in relief and fluttered across you to check your features then back to the area. Something feels off…

“Is it just me or was there always a garden here before?” She remarked, catching Aether’s attention. His eyes wandered to his surroundings and she was indeed right. Various flowers scattered before you, cushioning your body in the grassy field. He remembers that the ruins were only filled with the remains of the old buildings and structures.

He explored this area in and out and never once in his journey does he remember a garden was set up here in just a month. Is someone revitalizing this old lair? Even if it did, he should prioritize first your passed out state and bring you back to Mondstadt for safety.

“We should bring her back with us. It’s too dangerous here.” He told his little companion and before he could tuck his hands underneath your legs, a strong grip on his wrist stopped him from doing so.

He jerked his head in the direction of the owner’s arm, following the white sleeve covered up until to sight of a familiar appearance of a bard standing before him. Venti stared blankly at him with cold eyes. Frightened by his expression and sudden presence, he took in a sudden intake of breath and stumbled backward, his foot slipping from the ground. His shoulders tensed in alarm, the tightening grip on his wrist caused him to wince in pain.

“Venti?!” Paimon exclaimed in surprise and glided away to give the distance from him as she noticed the abrupt ominous aura encircling him.

“What are you going to do with her?” His expression hardened when the traveler remained quiet at his question, so he constricted his hold on him even further to get his attention.

“I said, what are you going to do with her, traveler?” He repeated but with a firm and loud voice. The pixie shuddered in fear at his unforeseen behavior but she quickly stepped in and tugged his hand away.

“We’re just going to bring her to the city to help her!” She exclaimed and attempted to release his restraint on her ally. Resentful countenance flit across his features as his mouth had gone hard hearing her words. Though, he quickly replaced it with a smile and finally let go of Aether.

“I see. There’s no need to do that.”

The blonde rubbed his wrist to ease the discomfort that continued to linger, he was sure of himself it’ll create a bruise on it. His eyes followed to the bard’s small form as he carried you in his arms. You squirmed against him and huddled closer searching for warmth.

Venti glanced at you then back to the two companions. “You should go back now.” His voice was more demanding than they had expected. An order from an Archon himself. Though Aether didn’t budge, he hoisted himself up first then looked at him in utter puzzlement.

“What about her? Is she injured? Sick? You should come with us too if you want to aid her.” Venti clicked his tongue and forced a smile to hide the growing anger that’s boiling up even more the more he talks.

“I can handle her myself. It’s getting dark already and I don’t want you to get lost on your way back to the city.” The small bickering started to wake you and this is not what Venti likes to happen.

As you rose from your light slumber, you are first aware of the coolness of the air and the fresh and loamy fragrance. Your clothes feel damp as a flower in the dew of the dawn. You half wonder if you’re still dreaming as you shifted from your place and sensed your feet weren’t touching the ground.

“She’s awake!” You heard a squeaky voice exclaim near you. Venti raised his hand and commanded the winds to push the two away back to the exit.

“Leave. Now.”

It irked him further when Aether persisted then stared at you, observing your features in silence. If he’s desperate to stay then so be it, he can just teleport himself somewhere else with you as long as they keep a distance from you.

He didn’t hesitate to leave them all alone and not even once listening to what they’ll say as he suddenly disappeared into thin air with few teal feathers fluttering along with the air.

He stopped near the lake and heaved a sigh of relief that he can no longer see them at last. You rubbed your eyes to erase the sleepiness within you and looked up at him, calling his name in a drowsy manner.

“Sorry did I wake you, love?”

He settled himself on the ground and brushed your hair away that was fixed on your cheeks. You blinked and looked around the area to get a glimpse of where you are. Now you were awake, perhaps a little bit awake with a tint of drowsiness still in you. As far as you can tell, you’re trapped in your lover’s arms with birds making their carefree song around you.

“What’s the noise all about? What’s going on?”

Ah, seems like that woke you up. He sighed and placed his head on your shoulder to relax with just your presence. It’s a miracle how your own voice can instantly calm him down after attempting Aether and Paimon to leave the place.

“There were visitors that came here. Quite pesky I must say.”

“Visitors?”

That fully woke you up more than you’ve ever been. “No need to worry about that. It’s not really important. Get some more rest, you’re tired after what happened after all.” He kissed the top of your head and pulled you close to snuggle against him. You enjoy the feeling of his warm body next to yours, causing you to be sleepy once again.

He carefully shuffled to find a comfortable spot and looked at you. Your features were much softer in sleep, more youthful than ever no matter how many millenniums of years passed by. It reminded him of your heavy slumber while he waits for you to wake up.

But now, he doesn’t need to worry if you’re still in a comatose state. You’re already awake, with him and finally together. He can easily check up on you all the time as long as he’s next to you. He could soak in all that you are forever and still be right here, still wanting more. It is infatuation, but what is love without it? Desire, passion, and true love are threads of the same emotion, a perfect recipe for his attraction for you.

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