#roses never fade ( ooc support )

[rosietrace]

『 Sapphire set 』

Characters: Victoria Shard, Isfrid Aneira(@windbornearchon), Astrid Aneira(@starry-night-rose)

Mentioned: King and Queen Aneira, Zenith Devi, Malleus Draconia, Vil Schoenheit, the former Diasomnia housewarden

Pairing: Victoria Shard x Isfrid Aneira

Synopsis: Isfrid was alone once Astrid took up a bit of space in the dancefloor. And all of a sudden, she's captivated by the woman Zen mentioned to her - Sapphire eyes and all.

Warning(s): Potentially ooc, Isfrid was the original housewarden of Diasomnia before Malleus, Victoria was intended to be Pomefiore's housewarden until Vil showed up, implied unrealistic expectations from Isfrid's parents

[ Apologies for any out of character moments ]

[ Reblog > Likes ]

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▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

↳ Victoria Shard, the beautiful manipulator

Isfrid looked around awkwardly. She didn't know what else to think about when it came to noble gatherings - Other than pure dread.

Something about the intermingling of people who she never fit in with… Never sat right with her.

Yet here she was, dressed in black and blue, makeup and hair styled to perfection. All while being the equivalent of a wallflower.

At the very least, Astrid was there for her to lean on for support.

“Yeah… These types of things? They're both really boring or really fun,” Astrid suddenly said, trying to lighten Isfrid's slightly sour mood.

Fortunately, that got a chuckle out of Isfrid. “Yeah,” she replied. “At the very least, there's chocolate.”

Astrid's eyes gleamed with excitement at that revelation. “Yup! Oh, don't worry, sis, this'll be a blast!”

“Heh, I hope so, Atti…”

The two began to talk to one another. If not to pass the time, then to avoid speaking to the other nobles - Particularly other royal children.

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

Alas, Astrid wanted to take a chance and make a run for the dance floor. Yet at the same time, she didn't want to leave her sister to her own devices.

Isfrid gave her an assuring smile, telling her that it was okay if she wanted to dance. Though she was a little hesitant, Astrid didn't wanna push further and potentially make her sister uncomfortable.

So there she went, to the dance floor.

Leaving Isfrid close by, yet feeling so far away.

Isfrid felt a smile on her lips as she watched her little sister dance. Oh, how she wished she could join her.

But alas, she couldn't. Too many eyes watching, too much weight on her shoulders from the expectations of her parents - Her father, most of all.

Suddenly, in the corner of Isfrid's eye, she caught the sight of someone.

That someone happened to be enough for her face to go warm.

Victoria stood opposite to Isfrid in the room, having what seemed to be a lighthearted conversation with both her father and Isfrid's dorm mate, Zenith Devi.

Based on her appearance, Isfrid very quickly connected the dots and knew that she was the best friend Zen had been going on about with her for quite some time.

She couldn't feel the warmth on her face disappear as she looked at her. Shimmering silks adorn her body, a mix of indigo and purple for her hair.

And her eyes. If anything, those eyes were the most captivating feature of Victoria. Something about the sparkle of her narrowed, sapphire-colored eyes….

It entranced Isfrid. Rightfully so, really. She knew that ever since Zen mentioned that he was her best friend, the Victoria he spoke of was indeed Victoria Shard.

The young woman who had been proclaimed ‘society's villainess’ shortly after her debut to society at sixteen.

Isfrid pursed her lips. Why…. Why won't this warm feeling fade already…

She allowed her thoughts to take over, completely unaware that Victoria began making her way toward her.

“Excuse me?”

The sound of an unfamiliar voice jolted Isfrid out of her train of thought. And when she turned to face the source, she couldn't help but feel her lips part and her eyes widen.

Victoria Shard herself, right in front of her.

“O-Oh-!” Isfrid stammered, backing away a bit. “I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't-”

“No, it's alright,” Victoria placed a hand over her hip. “You were simply lost in your thoughts. I just pulled you out of it.”

Awkwardly nodding, Isfrid began trying to figure out what to say next. That is, until Victoria extended a hand to her.

“Victoria Shard, a member of Pomefiore,” the young woman in question extended her other hand towards Isfrid. “But then again, knowing Zen, I wouldn't be surprised if you already knew that.”

Laughing awkwardly, Isfrid took her hand, gently shaking it - For fear that if she grasped it too tightly, she'd freeze her hand.

“He's quite a joy to be around, if you ask me,” Isfrid replied, feeling a little more confident in her response. “Isfrid Aneira. Though I suppose you already know that.”

Victoria smiled, nodding in response as she pulled her hand away. “Indeed. Zen's told me quite a bit about you.”

Flinching slightly, Isfrid tilted her head. “Really?”

“Yes,” Victoria replied bluntly. “He told me you were also Diasomnia's housewarden before Draconia came into the picture.”

Remembering what had gone down during her second year, Isfrid looked away, nodding slowly. She felt herself shrink in on herself at the mention of that.

“Yes….” Isfrid responded. “I was.”

Humming softly, Victoria stood next to Isfrid, positioning herself in a way that allowed her to look at the waltz that occurred in front of her.

“I was meant to be Pomefiore's housewarden, actually,” she said suddenly. She wasn't sure why she'd bother to tell Isfrid this, but there really was no going back, was there?

Isfrid looked back at her, somewhat surprised. “You were?”

Victoria nodded curtly, her expression utterly unreadable as she watched the dancing in front of her.

“To be Pomefiore's housewarden, you must make an incomparably deadly poison,” she stated something both she and Isfrid already knew. “And…. Well…. I came to NRC much earlier than Vil did. About two months early.”

At that time, Victoria would've been the top candidate to be the housewarden. Isfrid knew that much from what she said, at least.

“But then….” She allowed her voice to trail away from her sentence. Isfrid looked at her, a hint of sympathy in her eyes - Well aware of what she was to say next.

“Then?”

Victoria sucked in a sharp breath. “Then,” she continued. “Vil showed up.”

“In no time, there was a competition between the two of us. We'd both make our own poison, and the housewarden at the time would judge them based on how long it took for the poison to kill a rat.”

Isfrid listened intently, watching Victoria as her head soon hung low. “.... Vil killed that rodent the moment his poison dripped into its tongue.”

Beside Victoria, Isfrid's eyes softened so much more. She knew that feeling - The feeling of feeling like you're worthy of something when suddenly it slips away from beneath you the moment someone ‘more qualified’ shows up.

She felt her hand reach toward her but decided against moving closer. Both Isfrid and Victoria knew: That wouldn't be what would bring her comfort.

Isfrid pulled her hand back, an awkward silence following suit.

Until, surprisingly, it was Isfrid who spoke up.

“.... I can understand how you must've felt,” she said. “That same year, I lost my position as housewarden.”

Victoria didn't know how to respond to that. At least, at first. “.... You lost it to Draconia.”

Isfrid didn't need to know if she was looking at her for her to nod in response. “Yes,” she looked at her gloved, ice-cold hands. “I knew I didn't stand a chance. Of course, I didn't…. Anyone would've preferred Malleus Draconia over some princess from a small, almost unknown, kingdom.”

For some reason, Victoria didn't like the way Isfrid talked down on herself like that.

“I see,” she replied. “.... If I may say, I'd have preferred it if you remained as Diasomnia's housewarden.”

That… Bewildered Isfrid. She turned to Victoria, eyes slightly wide, confusion filling her expression. “.... You would?”

For a brief moment, Victoria smiled at Isfrid. “Yes. If anything, I heard that Diasomnia was thriving before Draconia took your place.”

Isfrid felt her face warm up all over again. “I-I wouldn't say it thrived-”

“Oh, by all means, it thrived,” Victoria interrupted her, fully confident in what she was saying. “I haven't seen a Diasomnia student so eager to see their housewarden as an equal since Draconia took your place.”

She sighed in disappointment. “Nowadays, not even your own dorm mates want to go near Draconia. It's quite pitiful if you ask me.”

That got a stifled laugh out of Isfrid. “Well, you… Can't exactly blame them,” she felt a little more confident in herself. As if just by being around Victoria, she could be honest in what she was saying - With no hesitation.

Victoria chuckled. “I feel as though just by being around Draconia, everyone wishes to run and flee.”

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

As the night went on, their conversation went for far longer than both of them had originally intended.

Not that they minded, of course. Never was that the case.

Isfrid felt at ease around Victoria. It was strange, really, feeling at ease around someone who she barely met more than an hour ago.

But, at the same time….. She felt comforted by her presence. Captivated by her to the point that all she could seem to think about, was to stare at the set of sapphires that donned the sockets of her eyes.

That was until Isfrid and Astrid had been called over by their mother and father. Told that they were returning home.

Slightly disappointed, Isfrid looked at Victoria, who had understood that she was leaving, and nodded. They both waved goodbye as Isfrid and her sister walked back to their parents.

In doing so, however, they both heard the sounds of murmuring among the guests. One of them, in particular, wasn't as loud as the rest.

“I can't believe she's meant to be the future Queen of Aneira…. If you ask me, the kingdom would do so much better if she was never born-”

As soon as they finished their sentence, the gentleman in question soon had wine dumped above their head from behind them.

The one who did that was Victoria. Isfrid knew she wasn't in the legal drinking age, so she assumed that the wine was for her father.

“Y-You-!!” The man cut themselves off once they realized who dumped the wine on him.

Victoria sent them a cold, calculating, look. “Me? What, at a loss for words?”

In most cases, she'd have been dragged out if the man was above her in title and general status. But based on his appearance, that clearly wasn't the case.

Victoria sighed in disappointment. “Gods….. And this wine was for my father,” she looked at the wineglass pitifully before looking behind her - presumably at her father. “I'll fetch you another glass in a bit.”

She turned back to the man who had belittled Isfrid, eyes narrowing. The man tried to retaliate by doing the same, but soon bordered on cowering when she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Hm. That's what I thought.”

She gave Isfrid and her family a look. Soon, she sent them a polite look, curtsying.

“I apologize for such an inconvenience, your majesties,” Victoria lifted her head, sending a soft look at Isfrid, making her blush slightly.

She soon stood straight, giving Isfrid a brief smile, before walking away. From where she was walking, Isfrid knew she was fetching more wine for her father.

It didn't take long for Isfrid to be dragged out of the ballroom by Astrid - Lest their father scolded her for taking so long.

That night, Isfrid knew that as she stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom…

Eyes like Victoria's aren't as common as they once were.

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Taglist

🥥 @windbornearchon @starry-night-rose @nem0-nee @authoruio @sakuramidnight15 @fumikomiyasaki

@geminiiviolets @grandi-flora @revolllutionary @oseathepebble @twsted-princess @celiica @vivaresmala @vaporvipermedia @spadecentral

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #victoria shard #isfrid aneira #astrid aneira #victoria x isfrid #isfrid x victoria #oc x oc #oc x oc oneshot #twst oc x oc #twst ocs #mutuals ocs #mutuals oc #friends' oc #friends' ocs #ship oneshot #oc onshot

[coeurvrai]

TROP asks: 16-19 & 25

The Rings of Power themed asks

16. What is your favorite item from the series? (For example, Finrods dagger, the piece of mithril Durin gave to Elrond, Adar’s gauntlet)

This is not surprising to you or many others, but it is definitely Finrod’s dagger. The most prominent emotional support dagger in all of the land. I never thought I would get emotional over when Galadriel had to give it up - and therefore give up the last piece of Finrod she had with her, a piece she has been carrying around for centuries! - in order for them to forge the rings and yet there we were, getting fucking emotional about it!!!

17. What are your thoughts on the original characters? Do you like them? (For example: Nori, Bronwyn, Adar)

I love the original characters, I think they all bring interesting and refreshing things to the table! For as much as we joke about Adar, his introduction does bring a new perspective when it comes to the Orcs and a way to expand on them - and the untold plight of the elves who were kidnapped and transformed into the first Orcs, making them sympathetic without totally removing the fact that they are genuinely a real danger to others and there are reasons why they are justifiably feared and hated.

Nori was delightful and I appreciate the insight into the proto-Hobbits and their customs and way of life. I hope we find out more about what exactly happened to Nori’s mum Rose, and still see Poppy and the others as Nori and The Stranger adventure on towards his home.

Bronwyn and Arondir are beloved and I was on board with them individually and as their romance from day one.

Disa and her marriage to Durin are also delightful. I want to see more of her in the next season, and more of her Lady Macbeth’ing it up.

18. What are your thoughts on the portrayal of the canon characters? (For example: Galadriel and Elrond)

I think they’re perfectly fine. I think the people who are complaining about Galadriel being OOC and a “girlboss” are stupid and clearly revealing themselves to be either not watching the show, or gave up after the first episode, or are not as knowledgeable about Tolkien as they claim to be.

And I say that as someone who describes myself as a “casual fan” of Tolkien in general. Like, as I’ve been told, Galadriel murdered a not-insignificant amount of her own relatives, so the idea that she has been “girlbossified” because she swings a sword and wears armour and has the gall to show anger is so fucking stupid. Like, this is a Galadriel in a different time compared to the Galadriel of Sir Peter Jackson’s movies.

But yeah, I think they’ve been handling them well. Galadriel is wounded and grieving and vengeful and entirely flawed yet heroic in her goals.

And Elrond is as kind as summer, what can I say? He, too, is in a different time and different place in his life - bothered by sending Galadriel away to Valinor yet driven by the belief that it was the right thing to do; attempting to fix his friendship with Durin after being away for 20 years; trying his best to save his people from fading away.

19. Is there a dynamic or a story arc you would have liked to see explored in more detail? Any character you would have liked to get more screen time?

I hope Disa gets more screen time and we get more bonding between her and Elrond.

25. Any predictions for the next season? Or anything you would like to happen?

Galadriel is probably gonna have to fend off mental invasions/dream invasions by Sauron, because he’s already shown he’s more than capable of entering her mind and manipulating illusions based on her own memories.

Also Adar and the Orcs’ partying is soon gonna end abruptly when they see Sauron as Halbrand and I predict that Adar is going to be so fucking confused why the random pissed human from before has simply walked through Mordor looking like he owns the place.

Also I would like more info about Celeborn. It’s too soon for Celeborn to come back into the picture from wherever he currently is, likely held hostage, so I would like more of Galadriel reminiscing sadly but fondly over her husband who she currently thinks is dead.

#the rings of power #lotr #ask #folatefangirl #Thank you for the ask Cinnia!

[raichoose-moved-again]

remade (as of nov. 2021) multifandom multimuse featuring canon and original characters - pokemon, silent hill, naruto, dc comics, hazbin / helluva, fnaf, the walten files, fandomless genres, and more.

loved by ann (she / her, 25+). friendly to aus, duplicates, crossovers, multis, canon divergent muses, and ocs.

info link. 

promo by @maitiest​​​.

please like / reblog if interested. 

#roses never fade ( ooc support ) #i've come to talk with you again ( ooc ) #i can be your long lost pal ( mun ) #never be lonely ( my account ) #pinned post

[gaeasun]

Vacancy and Bed Bargain with Commander Ponds please???

I have not forgotten these! Going to be honest, I've never really thought much about Ponds, or Neyo (he's just as central as Ponds really), but I enjoyed writing them here! Hopefully they don't seem ooc.

Everyone I want to be alive is alive. Just go with it.

What was a soldier to do when the war was over?

Drink, apparently.

Commander Ponds wasn’t about to drown himself in a bottle, though. Now that he and his batchmates and other close vode weren’t scattered throughout the galaxy, they planned a night at 79’s, where they could relax for maybe the first time in their lives. No Separatist plot, no wayward General to worry about (not that Ponds’ ever had to worry about his general, because he was fortunate enough to have an alor who was responsible in all matters). Just drinks and brothers.

Ponds’ yawned and leaned back in his chair, wondering why he was so tired. He’d gotten a full night’s rest and more. Maybe it was his body protesting the sudden drop in activity. Yes, that was likely it.

A sharp rap at the door caught his attention, and Ponds nearly fell over.

Neyo stepped in, his eyes neutral as usual. A clone of few words, he tossed his head towards the door, indicating he was ready.

“Alright. Let me change my shirt and we’ll go.”

Neyo nodded.

Soft clothes were nice, as Ponds had discovered, but incredibly impractical. He’d torn the first shirt he’d bought with the pension the Republic had set up, and resolved to be more careful in the future. So he had soft shirts for the apartment, and tougher shirts for going out.

Neyo only had sturdy shirts, something about always being ready for anything. But Ponds had a good memory, and had noticed that his shirts on occasion looked ever so slightly ruffled, almost like someone had taken one out and put it back.

He’d never seen Neyo wear any of them. Ponds didn’t ask about it either.

He finished changing and yawned again before heading out the door, slapping Neyo on the shoulder as he did so.

Or, that had been his intention. Neyo dodged back, eyes wide and hands clenched like he was expecting an attack.

“Sorry,” he muttered, once he’d forcibly unclenched his fingers.

Ponds moved slowly to touch Neyo on the shoulder, more gently this time. “No need to apologize, brother. I’m sorry for startling you.”

Neyo shrugged, slowly relaxing again. He started out the door, Ponds following.

On the way, Ponds was unable to keep himself from yawning again and again.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered. “I don’t think I slept poorly.”

“You didn’t,” Neyo said. At Ponds’ raised eyebrow, he added “I did.”

“Hmm,” Ponds pondered. “Do you need another blanket?”

“No.”

“Too warm?”

“No.”

“Less sweets before sleeping?”

“You know I don’t like... sugar.”

Ponds laughed at the distaste his vod put into that word. “I know. Just joking.” Neyo could barely handle fresh fruit; the one time he tried a cookie he spat it across the floor and rinsed his mouth out. Eating mostly ration bars your entire life wasn’t without its consequences.

Ponds just hoped Neyo would be able to drink enough to smile tonight. He wasn’t sure if his brother was happy or not, and his guarded nature made it difficult to tell.

79’s was alive tonight, with various commanders and a few adopted CT’s. Ponds laughed as he spotted Captain Rex arm wrestling Captain Howzer. The former he knew from Kamino, the latter he knew from Ryloth.

Neyo followed closer than his shadow, his eyes scanning every exit, entrance, and window in the place. He wasn’t the only one; too many vode sat with haunted eyes, nursing or quaffing drinks.

“Ponds!” Someone hollered- Bly, Ponds spotted, sitting with some other commanders. Ponds walked over, and the others spoke their own greetings. Fox had to take a break from his drink to do so, going right back to the glass and only setting it down when it was empty to slump against his seat. His eyes were dark and exhausted, which was no surprise given what Ponds had heard he’d been through, so his slowly relaxing posture was probably a good thing.

Ponds nudged Neyo to sit next to Fox, and then slung an arm around Cody. “Vod! Hoped you save me a drink or two.”

Cody laughed. “Of course, Ponds. How you doing, Neyo?”

Neyo nodded, which could have meant any number of things but at the moment was his equivalent of I’m fine.

Rex returned in triumph. “Hah! Told you. Pay up Cody.”

Cody groaned. “Osi’kyr. Now that we actually get paid I keep forgetting we actually have to keep our bets now.” He flipped a credit to Rex.

“Ponds! See what I did?” Rex grinned, and Ponds laughed in delight that their blond little vod’ika was cheerful after the war.

“Way to go, Rex’ika. Howzer’s no pushover.”

Rex rubbed his bicep and grinned. “Yeah. Now, move. My seat.”

Ponds held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I was going to get a drink anyways.”

After ordering something fizzy, he returned and sat next to Neyo, who was “talking” to Fox through rapid tapping on the table. Ponds chose to drink instead of translating.

The next few hours passed in a blur, going faster as it grew later. Ponds didn’t have too much to drink, but his head spun all the same. He laughed and joked without understanding, until he grew too hot and was burning and had to go outside.

“‘M fresh air,” he muttered before hastily stumbling towards what he pretty sure was the door.

The cool night air was a relief, even if the stink of the air wasn’t.

Ponds groaned as his stomach churned. He moved away to vomit somewhere away from the entrance, then sat near his pile of sick.

Finally he decided he’d been sitting for long enough, and unsteadily rose to find his way back inside. But all the music and sound and light blurred together, and he kept walking. And walking and walking. He had to reach the entrance sometime, right?

But the sound and light faded into darkness as he wandered, in reality further and further from the bar. Ponds had no idea where he was, but he couldn’t stop. He just kept walking, too dazed to change course.

“Hey clone!”

Not good. Other way.

“No you don’t!”

Something roughly slammed into him, and Ponds toppled to the ground head spinning.

“Hmm?” was all he could manage.

“Can’t believe my taxes had to pay for you. Doesn’t that still make you property?” An ugly, potbelly man jeered from somewhere above Ponds.

“No. ‘m not your property, ‘m my prop’rty. G’ ‘way.”

A boot slammed into his side, and Ponds realized his stomach was not completely empty yet. He proceeded to vomit the last dregs of whatever was in his stomach onto the boots in front of him.

“You filthy-” The man tried to knee him in the face, but battle instincts and vertigo saved Ponds when he collapsed onto his side, narrowly dodging the concussion.

The boot reared back again, and Ponds curled up, his arms protecting his head.

The kick never came. Instead, Ponds heard something- the indignant squawk telling him it was probably the man- hitting the ground.

Firm hands pulled tugged Ponds onto his back.

“Hey Neyo,” he slurred. “When’id you ge’ here? Where’s here?”

Neyo put the back of his hand to his forehead, and pulled it away. “This isn’t just alcohol. You’re sick.”

“I am?”

Neyo hauled him to his feet, and pulled one arm around Ponds, carrying some of his weight. With his help, Ponds stumbled… stumbled somewhere. It was a long trip, and Ponds just got dizzier and more exhausted. By the time Neyo started slowing down he was supporting Ponds almost completely.

Neyo took Ponds directly to a medic, who confirmed Ponds had come down with something and the alcohol had exacerbated it. The best thing to do now was let Ponds sleep it off and check him again in the morning.

Ponds only heard muffled voices and saw blurry lights. He still didn’t know where he was, but he was with Neyo, so he knew he was safe.

Neyo helped him to somewhere soft. A bed, maybe?

Soft clothes hit his lap, and Ponds recognized his sleep clothes by touch. He instinctively began tugging at his shirt, but he was too disoriented to pull it off completely.

Then gentle hands were helping him, pulling the shirt off the rest of the way and putting his head and arms through his pajamas. The pants were much easier and Ponds managed to do them himself.

“ -o- ee-” Ponds heard Neyo say, but didn’t know what it meant. When Neyo got up, Ponds followed him like a duckling in his namesake.

“ -ee-” Neyo said again, but Ponds could only stare in confusion. Neyo moved away again, and Ponds followed.

Neyo was quiet, then sat down on the bed. He nudged at Ponds til he was laying down, then laid down himself beside him after wrapping Ponds securely in a blanket.

Ponds waited to see if Neyo would move again, but he didn’t, so he closed his eyes and tried to move past the light-headedness into unconsciousness.

Past all the confusion, Ponds could faintly hear Neyo’s heartbeat, steady and sure. He focused on the rhythm a bit, until he relaxed into sleep.

#star wars #the clone wars #sickfic #commander ponds #commander neyo #captain rex #clone captain howzer #commander cody #commander fox

[the-asmp-wt]

(QUICK OOC COMMENT ABOUT MY POST. This is a nightmare, so characters WILL be out of character. Everything italicized is the dream. Have fun!)

The ground was sand. This was something that was unusual, because a!WT knew in her heart that this was L’Apoloburg, but nothing remained past the sand. No walls, no homes.

“Hello?”, she called out, squinting to try and see if she could see anybody in the sand. The wind kept pushing the sand over her feet, and she kicked it away, deciding she may as well walk since there was no answering call.

a!WT walked for hours, or maybe only minutes before reaching what looked like the walls of L’Apoloburg, crumbled and fallen, and a figure standing in front of it. The closer she got, the easier she was able to tell that the figure had its back to her, and that it was the President.

“a’Wilbur! Where are we- what happened to our home? What’s going on?”, a!WT asked, reaching out a hand to grab onto a!Wilburs shoulder, but instead of the other turning around the scene changed.

They were now both standing in L’Apoloburg, brightly colored grass beneath their feet. a!Wilbur was facing a!WT, and they were by the walls. The look on a!Wilburs face was a look that a!WT had never seen before, it was unsettling.

“D-did you r-really think I w-wouldn’t know?”, it asked, and a!WT froze. No. No no no no this wasn’t right this wasn’t something that happened or was going to happen no.

a!Wilbur was advancing now, grinning, and a!WT backs up, until her back hits the wall, panic shooting through her stomach. That was wrong she shouldn’t ever be scared of a!Wilbur this wasn’t right why was this happening-

“D-did you re-really buy that I’m that stupid? Come on a!WT, really? Was that what made you think you could pull this shit off? Of course I know your working with the enemy. I knew since the day I made you my Vice President.”, a!Wilbur sneered, a sword appearing at its side, and they rested a hand on it.

a!WT couldn’t comprehend what was happening. a!Wilbur knew all along? This was just some stupid fucking game that she was a pawn in?

“Then why not say something earlier! Why wait until I’ve told a!Tommy things!”, a!WT responded, pretending like her voice wasn’t shaking as hard as her hands were, eyes wide.

a!Wilbur laughed coldly, a dark gleam in its eyes that was never there before. At least, never a look that was directed at her. Once the laugh faded, the words that came were just as cold,” You think I care? You think I told you the truth- do you really think I’d trust You? Of all people, why you? It was just a stupidly easy way to distract the poor whining opposition…”

It was then that a!WT felt the eyes on her, and her gaze drafted from the healed but entirely unrecognizable face of a!Wilbur to the area around the pair. They were surrounded by residents, both ones who had been exiled and those who stayed. Ghostburs, a!Niki, even the a!Techno and the Wilbur she had met on her journey. They were all watching with impassive expressions, meeting her gaze and the longer they looked the more disdainful they became, faces warping in expressions of pure disgust or betrayal.

But the worst was a!Tommy.

a!Tommy’s eyes were filled with disgust and hurt, but also grim resignation. He was up in a tree, their bracelet-less arms wrapped around a branch, making no move to help.

“Help me.”, a!WT mouthed, aware that a!Wilbur was speaking but she paid them no mind, pleading for her friend to somehow be able to save this. Surely she had a plan, or some sort of saving grace that would get a!WT out of this. They were a pair right? Best friends?

Though a!Tommy was far away, his words echoed around a!WT.

“Why would I help you? You didn’t even fucking give me useful information- you got yourself into this situation. I don’t need you, and never did. You weren’t careful enough, and now everyone knows. Everyone knows everything except me. You’ve given me nothing… you are nothing to me…”, a!Tommy’s voice echoed, a!WT wilting back against the wall, the wall now fully supporting her weight as the weight of the words crashed down around her, unable to help but whisper back a helpless,”You don’t mean that.”, but a!Tommy’s cold eyes and careless shrug confirmed the Vice Presidents worse thoughts.

Everyone knew everyone knew everyone knew-

“Who are you talking to? Praying to some god you’re hoping will answer- why would they help you? Everything was in your hands… you could have saved me.”, a!Wilburs tone suddenly changed, and a!WT straightened, instantly looking back at the President. It’s face was now covered with a mask a!WT knew they got from a!Dream.

“What?”, a!WT asked, feeling incredibly wrong footed with how this had changed, but not questioning when it had had the chance to put on the mask. She also didn’t question the way a!Tommy was now standing beside a!Wilbur, and the feeling of being watched became stronger.

“You could have fixed things, fixed us. You could have not betrayed everyone you ever met, but everyone knows, and always did. We are all damned to a cursed existence because of you. And you are not going to escape punishment for your crimes”, a!Tommy and a!Wilbur spoke in unison, voices eerily similar as they both drew weapons, a!Tommy hoisting a bow and a!Wilbur with a sword.

There was chanting now, and the clicks of a clock. “We all know”, was being repeated over and over, in perfect time with the ticks of a clock that were getting steadily louder, and quicker as the pair in front of her advanced.

“No, no- no nonononono- NO-please, I’m sorry Please-“,a!WT couldn’t back up any further, shrinking down and she finally realized that tears were streaming down her face. The clocks were getting louder, and a!Wilbur was drawing its sword back, preparing to swing.

The sounds reached a crescendo before all the voices merged into one, sounding like every single person she’d ever loved or cared about. She was surrounded, but completely alone, with no one on her side. Only the ticking of the clock was there now, echoing in the silence.

“They all know. Traitors like you deserve to die alone, and your time is up.”, a!Wilbur said, mask disappearing to reveal their grinning face swinging it’s sword swiftly at a!WT’s face, as a!Tommy let the arrow fly in the same direction.

~*~

Right before the weapons hit, a!WT woke up, gasping for air, pushing herself away from the desk she had been sitting working at until she’d fallen asleep. The force of her startled push pushed her backwards in the chair, hitting her head on the ground once she fell.

“What the fuck-“, she mumbled, sitting there for a moment with a hand over her face and her other under her head, staring up at the ceiling. A!WT’s chest heaved with frantic breaths as though her body was making sure that she was still alive.

For a moment the girl simply laid there, staring up at her ceiling, unaware of the tears streaming down her face as she tried to convince herself it was all a dream. But was it? Maybe everyone did know…

“I’m so fucking stupid.”, she mumbled to herself, sniffling slightly as she crawled out of the chair and stood up shakily, glancing out the window, glad to find it was only barely sunrise. That would give her some time to try and make herself perfectly presentable before any of the remaining citizens saw her. She couldn’t let them see her like this, she was all they had left right now. The president hadn’t sent a letter, and a!Tommy hadn’t replied. Maybe they didn’t need her….

Deciding to busy herself in her work, a!WT stumbled back over to her desk, setting her chair the correct way around before flopping down onto it, and pulling the papers towards her. Might as well try and finish figuring out the details for the weaponry they had.

As she tried to distract herself, and the sun rose, the girl couldn’t quite shake the feeling that everyone around her knew, and were just waiting for the right time to expose her as a traitor. The morning sun and the tedious work may have burned away her clearest memories of the dream, but a!Tommy’s words were burned in her memory. They didn’t need her, and her time was running out.

#a!WT #nightmare time #apologist smp #L

[beybladebladerboy999]

Dia means sun btw.

Lord Diavolo angst.

Maybe OOC LuLu, I just love soft, messy LuLu.

He regrets ever picking you for the exchange program. Because of you his life is ruined. He never planned to share Lucifer with anybody romantically.

Then one day he asked to talk. He confessed he was in love.

With you.

Diavolo cried himself to sleep that night. As he remembered his friends smiling face. Of course he congratulated him and gave him advice while Barbatos prepared a special blend of tea.

He always thought he'd have Lucifer body and soul forever.

He should have never let you come here. You have the brothers in shambles, bowing to your every command.

You have all of them wrapped around your little finger and you don't even realize it. Out of all seven you had to pick Lucifer.

He was always supposed to be his Lucifer. His fallen Morning Star with eyes that shone like fire. Skin as pale as snow, with hair as black and shiny as ink. His Lucifer only belonged to him in name only. He was so beautiful, he deserved better than to be your plaything. Lucifer deserved a Queen's status, he belonged on the throne working with Diavolo side by side.

You see this needed to be revised immediately, that's why he killed you. It was to easy really, wait until you got back to the human world, slip some poison into your water systems, and make sure his Lucy was busy with work all day and night.

Why don't I take your D.D.D Lucifer, it will just distract you. The faster you finish your work the faster you can talk to MC. I'm sure she misses you.

He had to be discrete, if lucifer found out all his love would vanish, so not even you could know your killer. He sent you letter often and texted you, played the nice guy, the supportive friend. Now you were far away in the Celestial realm, forbidden from dating the Morning Star based on your angel status. Of course secretly delivered by Barbatos to Micheal.

Then I gave him my brightest smile and shoved more paperwork into his arms, the arms that should be wrapped around him.

He saved Lilith, he gave him work, a place for him and his brothers to stay. Lucifer should be his, and now he will be, now that your out of the way. Watching from the Celestial realm as your boyfriend cries into his shoulder. His hair loose and his school uniform buttons undone, Diavolo could fell his heart beating.

You were gone, Lucifer was his once more.

The cost well the boys will get over it soon enough, they don't even know who killed you. After all you were a good friend to everyone, his tears were real.

He really would miss you, but you crossed the line when you took Lucifer from him. Maybe he'll come and visit you when Lucifer is wearing his ring. When its safe for his heart to never fell that way about you again.

Diavolo hugged his friend and soothed his heaving sobs.

You see Lucifer loves me , he doesn't hide anything from me. Look at him falling apart on my shoulder, the all mighty Morning Star, reduced to tears and a shadow of himself.

"Diavolo" he whispered

"Yes my Lovely?"

" Does Barb know who killed her?"

He sounded cool, and broken. He sounded like a man who just had his heart shattered.

"An unfortunate accident. Her poison garden had a broken pipe, the poison seeped into the ground into her drinking supply." He sounded mournful as he spoke.

" You know how found she was with her deadly garden Lucifer, that's why she got on with Satan so well, always hungry for information."

Lucifer chocked back a sob.

He told you your obsession would kill you one day, and now look at you. Stuck under his Father's thumb in the blinding white of his old home. At least he could rely on Simeon to keep you safe.

For the first time in his millennia old life Lucifer regretted his fall.

At his back Diavolo smiled, finally mine he thought, finally finally mine.

"This is where you live dearest?" he said. Looking at you in wonder. A small cottage greeted him with flowers blooming around metal gates. A green house in the backyard, filled to brimming with toxic and deadly plants.

he stared at you as you put on little green leather gloves and pointed at every plant, the poison it obtained and what it could do it a humans system. You showed him leaf patterns and squeezed a pokeberry and watched the seeds spill out, showing him the poison as red as blood inside.

"Isn't it wonderful" you asked. You gazed into his eyes, yours were filled with an almost child like wonder as you gazed around your garden. For once you had almost rivaled your boyfriend in Pride. He could practically see the peacock feathers sprouting from your back.

" I just want you to look upon the true irony of your current situation." She smiles as Lucifer plucks a Manchieel apple from the tree and bit down.

"I love you Lucifer" Then she looked up at me threw her long beautiful lashes. I felt the blush  creep up my cheeks as my hand rose to meet my chest.

"I love you to MC"

I kissed her then, her lips were full and warm and she was alive. We kissed by the dying sunset, I pulled her flush aganist my chest and she wrapped her arms around my neck.

I remember the feeling of utter happiness as I help her aganist me. It was like a tight spring loaded in my heart.

I love you MC, I will always love you.

Lucifer's tears slowly drew to a close as Diavolo hugger him closer. You were always so  reckless, always attracted to things that could kill you whether it be plants or your choice of boyfriend. You never had a sense of self preservation, its how you two originally gotten closer.

After he realized Mammon was a horrible human babysitter he slowly faded into the role. Then after your true heritae was revealed, he couldn't stop himself from falling in love with you.

Ha look where that got him. Youe dead and his heart is shattered on the ground.

Even after all those pacts you still went to Celestial, even though your a desecandt of the angel my Father wanted elimanited.

Maybe this is a new tourment from my Father after all, he took away Lilith, and now you.

My darling little MC.

Lucifer was sure his heart would never be put back together again.

He missed your warm touches. Your random notes on his mountains of paperwork, little encouragments and silly heart on sticky notes.

He saved them all.

You come in with snacks or drinks in the dead of night just to remind him to eat.

"How could you possibly love  a demon, I'm a failure. A fallen angel." He looked downcast.

You confessed your love fo rthe first time that night. Heart shapped pancakes, on his desk after a particularly long meeting. At the time his first thought was "Beel didn't see these, how odd."

" I love you in spite of that. Lucifer you work hard, you sacrificed your  freedom for your family. You work like a slave to because of it. Your so strong. You saved your brother from the dungeon, and bore the burden of greif all these years." YOu looked at him admiration and a touch of saddness.

"'I love you because no matter what you come to face, you better yourself with it." his pride swelled, he took in your flushed face, your sparkling eyes, and your soft hair. He loved you for so long. He pulled you close and kissed away your tears.

Then you fed each other pancakes.

He didn't do any work that night.

The brothers made you a memorial behdn the House of Lamentation. Filled to the brim with roses spelled healthy, and pictures upon pictures from your Devilgram account. Soft teddy bears and the controller you used most when playing with Levi, a tube of your lipstick you accidentally left behind.

Lucifer went their that night, he sat in frount of you and cried himself to sleep. It was almost like losing Lilith all over again.

You were the one to comfort him when you felt like this. When he lost the battle of the darkness inside his heart, but you were gone, and nobody else dared approach him. He felt your absence in the very core of his being, he missed your hands grazing his horns or preening his wings.

" Their like clouds! So fluffy!"

" They were made from clouds dearest" He smiled at you and pulled you onto his lap."

" I miss you MC, my dearest one." A few tears dropped onto your tombstone. He rested his head agaist your picture.

" Lucifer" a soft voice whispered, hiding in the shadows.

"Simeon" Lucifer looked up and saw his friend under the tree. He looked forlorn and...was that dread?

" We need to talk... I have  a message from....her"

Lucifer sat up and gracefully walkes towards him. His uniform is covered in mud and he was an indent from your memorial but, he still looked prideful. Even if he didn't feel anything at all.

Simeon looked at him in a pitiful manner.

" She loves you Lucifer, and it wasn't an accident. She said she saw Barbatos, and the cop who was investagating, he was a demon who tried to eat her once. When she was with Satan at the library.

She says he lended over and checked her pulse after she drank the water. He said he was sorry, on all accounts."

Lucifer couldn't speak, he was falling once more in a pit of rage and despair.

" Are you sure?" disbelief coated his voice as he looked upon his best friend and companion.

" She's a mess about it, Barb came over and-" Simeon shuddered. "She's being peppered with questions about everythibg from Micheal, she saw a few of her deceased pets and started crying, she won't leave them be" he chuckled slightly.

Lucifer felt a stab of betrayal, but he also felt a sense of purpose.

"Thank you Simeon" he said cooly, buttoning up his unofrm, tying his belt, fixing his medals."Give MC my love from now until the end of eternity." Lucifer walked cooly back to your memorial. He touched your smiling face and took out his D.D.D.

The Demon Brothers (6) New (7)

Lucifer- Family meeting in the dining room, Five minutes

He shut off his phone and walked back into the house.

" Your so strong Lucifer."

"Your so beautiful"

" You'll always be my angel."

" I love you, and I'll always love you."

Lucifer stared at his brothers' gathered in he dining hall. He tuned out their questions and held up his hand.

He stood up the chair moving soundlessely on the carpet.

He placed his hand over the R.A.D badge, then he ripped it off. The stitches popping and metals clanging on the table.

He threw it to the floor.

"Who here wants to start a rebellion."

Yay my first aganst! So who wins that's up to you! Comment please I love reading them.

This is my girlfriend's story and I wanted to post it here and she let me so go check it out on wattpad

@sparkleshinegreen

#obey me #obey me diavolo #obey lucifer #agnst #fluff #to be continued #lucifer x reader #oc mention #death #murder #fanfiction

[sparklingpax]

Tales From Iacon - Part 2: Intentions

A/N: 

-Part one can be found here and I also have a wattpad where I’m posting updates as well as other stories! (user is @/kunixjiro)

-Idk if this was an appropriate title for this part but the idea was that they both had their own intentions and well....you can see how it turned out.

-Sorry if this is badly written (and for any typos, mistakes, weird phrasings, etc)

-Also sorry that this is long af O//O’’

-This part isn’t so fluffy ^^’’ But dw I promise I’ll resolve everything in time....anyway, hopefully nothing got too ooc or anything! Enjoy!! <3

///

It was no secret that Megatronus was a gladiator.

He was not ashamed or afraid to admit his purpose—to kill both beast and bot alike.

For the entertainment of the crowds, and in accordance with Cybertron’s corrupt caste system. 

            Such a life was a choice he’d made long ago, when he rose up from the mines and cast away the life of a meaningless energon miner. With it, he’d cast away a name given to him—a name which held no meaning anyway.

             D-16 was no more—he was Megatronus now.

///

            The wild cheering of the crowds invigorated Megatronus, fueling his drive to utterly mutilate the monster hulking before him. All he could think of was the desire to fight stronger and harder than ever before—to show off his power so he could bask in the glory of the hundreds all around calling his name.

             “Megatronus! Megatronus! Megatronus!”

               The deafening roar of the onlookers filled his audio receptors, causing Megatronus to grin wildly, and the injured monster to bellow in terror. It stumbled forward hastily, only for Megatronus to dodge and deal another blow with his sword. Much to the delight of the crowd, the beast cried out in pain and reared up to attack Megatronus again.

             There was no fear as Megatronus gazed into the black eyes of the beast, lit only with primal rage. They bored into him for only a moment before it shook its head and charged.

             Call my name! Call it louder—shout it to the skies, Cybertronians!  

             He stood in battle stance, breathing hard but not yet tired. Bright lights all around blazed down on his plating, making the grey and burgundy glow as silver and red. His optics were alight with a wild look, as if he knew the battle was over and victory was in his very grasp.

             Megatronus tossed away his shield, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter. He released a savage cry and charged right at the monster. Screams of excitements and fear sounded from every angle as he neared the gaping jaws of his opponent.

             The gladiator swung the sword and neatly sliced off half of the grey tongue that greedily reached out at him. The monster instantly recoiled, writhing in pain. Blue blood sprayed everywhere. The warm, sticky liquid showered Megatronus as he slid the weapon into its holder at his hip.

             He paid no mind to it, for he had known the tongue would bleed the most.

             Megatronus took a running leap off the dirt and landed on the back of the beast. With his own servos, he grabbed its snout and yanked it towards him, bending its neck backwards to injure it further. It tried to swing him off, but Megatronus stabbed his sword into its body. The crowd collectively shrieked with anticipation upon seeing the legs of the monster buckle beneath him.  

             Before it could scream in pain again, he vaulted off its body to the side, twisting its neck with a fatal, sickening crack. There was a brief, abrupt silence while the monster moaned more quietly, attempting to move. It crumpled inward with a low huff.

               A pool of energon gushed out from its wounds, soiling the ground around it as Megatronus backed away to watch it die. He grinned with pure delight—breathing heavily, limbs quivering with exhaustion—at his work. Only seconds later, the beast went totally limp.

               It was done.

             The volume of the crowd was loud enough to sound as if the whole of Cybertron had packed into the small stadium.

              Megatronus was victorious again.

             He felt pride and joy rush through him as he raised his sword and cried out to the masses before him.

              “I AM MEGATRONUS, KING OF THE PITS OF KAON!!!”

             “Megatronus! Megatronus! Megatronus! Megatronus! ”

             “I AM LIVING PROOF THAT ONE DECIDES HIS OWN DESTINY!!”

               Hundreds packed together in the seats raised their servos and shouted as loud as they could, amazed by the skill of the gladiator before them, and filled with inspiration. Megatronus felt something warm in his spark, for he knew Orion was one of the many voices.

               There was no disputing it now, D-16 was truly no more.

///

             Outside the arena’s seating, there was a dimly lit, blue corridor. Various clumps of bots milled around there. Some were making their way out from the seats, conversating excitedly about the fighting, or were making their way back in. Others stayed outside for whatever reason they had. A quiet murmuring filled the space, contrasting greatly from the deafening roar of the arena.

             Orion Pax had his back up against the wall, breathing hard. He tried to steady his breath, attempting to erase the images of the brutal murdering of that beast from his mind.

             He had never seen anything so violent in his whole life.

             Orion couldn’t bear it a second longer, hearing the crowd cheer hungrily for the monster to suffer more, and chanting all the louder for its death. All of it had felt so…wrong. For a second, he had wondered if everyone in there had lost their senses. Surely a society of civilized people wouldn’t bee chanting for the death of a living, breathing creature? Or will it to be tortured?

             And yet…they were.

             He had slipped out to regain himself a little, and decided he’d return to his place when the act was finished. At least, if Orion didn’t watch some of the real fight, he’d see the aftermath. After all, Megatronus had invited Orion as a…somewhat esteemed guest. It was only fair that Orion, too, should raise his voice to cheer his friend on.

              I’m here for Megatronus.

             I’m here because he invited me.

             I’m…here to…support him….

             His stomach turned upon thoughts of what he was doing to the creature at the moment. He heard a loud roar of pain and the noise of the crowd increased greatly. Orion shook his head and slid down to a sitting position.

              I’ll…I’ll wait here until it sounds like it’s over…or else….I just might purge…

///

             “So then, Soundwave,” Megatronus shook hands with the quiet mech and nodded. “I’ll be off. I’m meeting someone now. We can speak again tomorrow, if you like.”

             Soundwave nodded, then turned and left. Megatronus watched him go, interest dancing vaguely in his gaze.  

              What an interesting bot, being so quiet and yet saying so much.

              The gladiator was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion, and it seemed the adrenaline that had pushed him through the fight was finally fading. With a small grunt, Megatronus stumbled and fell against the corridor’s wall for support. To Megatronus’ frustration, his legs were tremoring a little. He let out a sigh, straightening again after a moment with a small wince.  

             I suppose I…expended a bit too much of my energy today…

             He still felt pride and joy in his victory.

             Even still, all my efforts were worth it. I stand alive once more.

             “Good evening, Megatronus!”

             Orion’s voice reached Megatronus before he sighted his friend at the other end of the corridor. Orion picked up pace and jogged down the hall to meet him.

             Megatronus immediately felt his exhaustion dissipate.

             Orion had seen the fight!

             He was eager to know what Orion had thought of it all. He knew it Orion’s first time seeing something as graphic and epic as this.

             But more than that, Megatronus was eager to know what Orion thought of him. Battle brought out his truest form, and that form was Megatronus’ greatest pride. Having somewhat of an ego, Megatronus knew that deep down, all he needed to keep going was some sort of praise.  

             After all, who wouldn’t? Validation is a beautiful thing, especially in one’s own art. 

             “Orion, it brought me much joy to know you could make it tonight!” He and Orion shook servos and greeted one another, then started slowly back up the hall so they could leave the building. Megatronus continued, “How unfortunate you could not have seen me last week, when I, with great fervor, slayed—”

             He paused, sensing Orion tense up next to him and look away.

             Odd.  

             “Never mind. Anyway, you are usually too busy with your studies or your work. How is it that you came tonight?” Orion sighed.

             “My apologies. I hope to be a master archivist one day, and full commitment to my studies is essential for me to reach that goal.” He looked up at the sky speckled with thousands of stars and smiled. Shifting his gaze to Megatronus, who was listening intently, he nodded. “I did get time off tonight, though. I have Alpha Trion to thank for that.”

             Megatronus patted him on the back.

             They continued through the quiet streets of Kaon—well, the backstreets, to be specific. Megatronus knew how ugly the main streets could get with all the crazy bots running around at night. He wanted no part in it tonight as long as Orion was with him.

             And Orion is no fighter.

             “Megatronus, uhm…” Orion’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts. He looked a little nervous. He fiddled with his fingers for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I…I hope you can be patient with me.”

             “What?”

             “You might feel offended.” Orion tried elaborating. Megatronus, however, was not following. “I am only asking that if you are mad, that you don’t take it out on someone else…or that you can understand what my reasoning was.”

             Offended? It made little sense. Yet his friend remained tense, and would not meet his gaze. Megatronus immediately felt guilty. Have I said something wrong?

             “Orion, I do not understand what it is you refer to!” He picked up his pace, trying to think of changing the subject. He so desperately wanted to know about what Orion had thought of his battle with the monster!  

             “About the fight tonight…” Orion’s gaze dropped to the ground and he halted. Megatronus, who had walked a few paces ahead, stopped and turned. Oh, he read my mind. How funny; I was just about to ask!

              “Listen, Orion, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not—”

              “I had to leave halfway through the fight. I…” He slowly lifted his gaze to meet his friend’s. As he’d suspected, the beginnings of frustration had already begun to spark into it. He mustered all his confidence to finish. “I waited in the hall because I couldn’t take anymore of the violence…or the bloodthirsty crowd. It…did not feel right at all.”

              An uncomfortable silence weighed on the pair.

              At last, Megatronus turned away and sighed quietly, breaking the silence. Orion felt guilt and embarrassment to the depths of his spark. He opened his mouth to say more, then thought it better not to. He figured Megatronus would have something to say to him.

             “So…that’s it?” Disappointment was fully evident in his voice, causing Orion’s spark to twist more. Megatronus turned back to his friend and moved closer. His hands were folded behind his back. Orion swallowed.

             My intentions were to be honest, but I fear I have taken an imprudent course of action…

             Orion decided not to voice the thought. Instead, he quietly responded, “Yes.”

             “I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that I’m…very hurt, Orion.” Megatronus kept his voice level as he gazed into the archivist’s eyes, yet Orion could still hear dejection in its tone.

             He realized he had to fix this.  

             But how? What do I say? Orion Pax, you foolish child!! He scorned himself internally.

             “I am sorry, Megatronus. I understand that words will do no good, but for the moments I was there, your courage in the face of the beast was admirable.” Megatronus looked away. Indignance and annoyance welled up inside him.

              He’s probably making it up.

             “And that is the honest truth.”

             Orion looked earnest.

             He also looked and sounded guilty.

              Is it? Or are you telling me what I want to hear? Why did you come if you knew you couldn’t stand violence and a crowd’s wildness? Orion, you anger me…or rather…

             Megatronus then remembered his friend’s quiet plea for peace and patience beforehand. To lash out at him would wound their friendship forever, and give Orion the wrong impression of Megatronus. All that aside, Megatronus realized he…felt no anger towards his friend. The heated emotions faded, quickly replaced by pangs of rejection.

             …such is my fate, being a lower-caste bot raised in blood, darkness and cold steel. Of course Orion does not find it beautiful, and I should not have forced him to witness such things.

             It seemed they would have to allow time to do its work.

             Megatronus began to walk away, saying nothing more. Orion called after him, but received no reply. His friend disappeared into the shadows of the night, leaving Orion feeling guilty and ashamed.

              I won the battle, but I now feel…defeat.

              Megatronus felt exhaustion creep back into his limbs.

///

             On his way out of the city, Orion paid no attention to the tranquil, moonlit nature around him. He was instead lost in thought.

             Had I said nothing, I’d have lied.

             He shook his head.

             I can’t lie. I won’t lie. I know it would have come out eventually, and he would still be hurt. 

             A pang of sadness twisted his spark again. 

             Why couldn’t I bear it even for his sake? It is because I do not understand it that I fear it, I know. But...it is his joy...his art....and I was not there for him.

             As he reached a train station, Orion still did not have any real thoughts in mind as he punched in the location for his ticket.

             When the train arrived, Orion boarded and sat by the window.

             I realize now that my intentions were faulted. It would have been better to stay quiet, becuase then I would not have hurt him.

             He closed his eyes.

             Time will have to heal this wound.

#orionpax #megatronus #transformers #tf #tfp #tf fanfiction #tfp fanfic #tfp fanfiction #tf fanfic #fanfiction #orionpax and megatronus #tales from iacon #kuniwrites #writing #transformers prime #transformers fanfiction #transformers prime fanfiction #cybertron #aligned continuity #transformers aligned continuity #for fun #wattpad story #optimus prime #megatron

[readerficsbyhyaku]

Intoxicated (Apollo Justice x Reader)

summary

You celebrate your tenth won trial with Apollo, and nobody else shows up to the party. The cheap booze lowers your inhibitions and you make bold claims that seem to spur things into action.

author’s note

Hello ! Haven't written in a long time, sorry if there are a lot of repetitions, poor vocabulary or OOC-ness. Any advice is welcome ;w; I wanted to write about a character that seems pure but can actually be lewd c:

You had joined the Wright Anything Agency a few months ago, as a rookie attorney. As you were more preoccupied by finding out the truth rather than blindly winning trials, it was an obvious choice, and they accepted you ! It had been a bit weird at first, as you were almost fangirling over everybody – they were kinda famous after all. Phoenix Wright was, as always, just slightly unprepared enough to yield awkward situations in court, but he also had the guts to guide him when needed – that and his Psyche Locks. Apollo was a very straightforward, bright and rigorous member of the team, yet hiding some insecurities and doubts under his booming “I’m fine !”. Athena quickly became your best friend, her energetic personality and open mind making her a partner of choice for investigations, trials and gossip talk. Trucy wasn’t there all the time, but she was sweet and kind, even though she knew way too well how to wrap Phoenix around her finger. Daughters are scary.

Your first trial was uneventful, as you were against one of the Payne brothers. You wondered how these guys managed to still have a job in court when they lost every single one of their trials. Or maybe it really was a different brother each time, and their family tree was a nightmare. The next prosecutor brought you back to the hard reality though, as it was Simon Blackquill. The guy looked almost loony if it wasn’t for his sharp mind and observations.

Truth is, being harassed by a bird while being almost physically threatened didn’t bring out the best lawyer out of you, but you had guts. You felt when things didn’t sit right, and when people tried to hide something. If you didn’t, what were you doing as an attorney in the first place ? Call it instincts or something else, but you could physically feel something off, with the hair on the back of your neck standing up, or your gut sinking, or feeling like somebody threw a bucket of cold water on you. It’s not like you could outright point out lies, but when somebody was covering something by overdetailing, overjustificating… you felt it. The worst was when the sensation was like being out of your own body. Those times were rare, but it happened, and you were glad there was somebody next to you in the courtroom. The first time it occurred, Athena slapped you back to reality and it was very painful. You did not recommend.

Your guts worked well with the Mood Matrix, as it helped you pinpoint exactly what was wrong with the testimony, but it worked about the same with Apollo’s bracelet. You hadn’t had the opportunity to defend with Phoenix, but you doubted you’d be of any help. He was the mentor after all, and had more than enough guts for everybody in the office. His power was less timing sensitive than the others’, so your intuition wouldn’t help pry some answers out. And to be fair, you were a bit scared of messing up with him. You were still a rookie, and he had won over a lot of different prosecutors, renowned ones too. He had the experience, hell, he even had a daughter !

That being said, your first months there went by without any hitch, except the usual ones – police not giving you clues, a detective preventing you from looking at crime scenes, people lying… Since Wright was so busy, you often paired with either Apollo or Athena, and your bonds grew stronger with both of them. Athena was your bestie, you could talk about anything with her and her enthusiasm helped a lot during investigations. Apollo was great too, he was focused, determined, and really fun to tease. To be fair, you had the slightest crush on him, he made you laugh and you knew you could trust him, there was no mischief in him. Maybe more than a slight crush, since you also found him insanely attractive in his red pants and waistcoat. You had a thing for waistcoats, and the way it hugged his form revealed his square shoulders and overall manliness, even though he was short. Okay, maybe you had thought about ridding him of the waistcoat or about his large hands roaming on your body, but it never exceeded that, thoughts. There was a pureness about him that prevented you from any advance or flirting you might’ve wanted to initiate, plus it’s kinda hard to flirt when on murder cases. Though that didn’t prevent certain witnesses to openly do it with the prosecution…

You had just won your tenth trial, a pretty hard one to be honest, with Apollo’s help. Everything you had thought about the truth had been turned upside-down and shaken around in about three days’ time. Even if it wasn’t how you expected it, your client was not guilty and the true culprit was arrested.

You and Apollo decided on a small party to celebrate the hard to crack case, bringing snacks and booze at the office after hours. Sadly enough, Athena was busy on a case with Phoenix and they were investigating out of town, and Trucy practiced her magic show. So the both of you binged on the snacks all evening and got wasted on cheap beers and homemade cocktails. The conversation was cheerful at first, talking about how well you performed during the trials and generally throwing flowers at each other, then, as the words became slurred, you just complained about how no one was there to celebrate with you. It was nearing midnight when you shifted from your sitting position on the couch, feeling dizzy, head buzzing from the intoxication. Apollo was in no better state than you were, arms thrown back on the couch and head tilted towards the ceiling. In the spur of the moment, you decided to rest your head on the man’s thighs, and drunk you found them to be very comfortable. As he looked down to see what you were doing, you looked up and your gaze got caught in his hazelnut eyes.

“Your eyes are beautiful” you blurted out without even thinking about it, the drinks you had removing a few of your social filters.

The room had been pretty silent before you even decided to talk, so you thought nothing of the calm that followed your bold statement. Still feeling dizzy, you closed your eyes in an attempt to sober up a bit. You didn’t think – maybe you didn’t think at all – that you could walk all the way to your apartment in that state. A shadow danced over your eyelids, you felt warm air somewhere on your face, you weren’t really sure where, and felt something hot and soft pressing on your lips. Your eyes flashed open, and you managed to muster enough brainpower to comprehend the situation. Apollo was kissing you. Somewhere in the back of your drunk brain, a voice squealed about how you liked him, but you never thought he would like you back or something like that. It faded in the distance as Apollo moved slightly and you tasted a bit of bourbon, mixed in with sweetness and softness. You felt him rise again, and sucked lightly on his bottom lip, making you part with an audible pop.

When you opened your eyes again, he was staring at you, a soft pink hue on his cheeks, though you couldn’t tell if it was because of the booze or the kiss you just shared. You sat back up again, staring at him as you didn’t really make sense of what was happening. He had kissed you, but your drunken mind thought that something was off. Did you have to say something ? You didn’t know, but you knew you wanted to kiss him again. Your brain was completely taken over by the pleasure you had felt moments ago, and only wanted you to reiterate it.

“Apollo” you slurred while rising to your feet, taking a tentative step to get closer to him, but you didn’t expect to land on one of the discarded bottles, making you lose your already faltering balance. In a haze, you felt you were going backwards until your fall was abruptly stopped by… Apollo ?

He had rose to his feet and caught you in a tight embrace, preventing you from collapsing on the ground. You stared at his face and he seemed sober enough, at least he had control over his body. But his eyes were lidded and his stare heavy, as if he was intoxicated by something entirely different.

“Apollo ?”

You then realized that your faces were only a very few centimeters apart, and as your gaze lowered to his lips, he closed the gap and pressed his lips against yours again. Your brain screamed in pleasure at the sensation, his mouth hot and your lips melting onto his, his embrace surrounding you and you couldn’t get enough of him. You wrapped your hands around his neck, trying to regain a semblance of balance and you felt him nudge you gently backwards. It took a few steps interrupted by scalding kisses until you felt like he wasn’t supporting all of your weight with his arms around your waist. Thinking about his potential strength made your gut flip and flop, flashing images of what he could do with his strong arms appearing in front of your eyes. You had to break the kiss to catch your breath, cheeks red, disheveled and panting a bit. It felt so good, why did it feel so good ? You took a look at Apollo and he was also blushing, his eyes lost gazing at you, his lips slightly parted. His perfectly combed hair was tousled and strands fell around his face; and you thought he was so sexy.

“Apollo…”

Almost on cue, you felt his hands slip under your untucked dress shirt and slowly rise to your waist, maybe a little higher, near your ribs. The shirt rode up and exposed some skin to the cooler air of the room, a sharp contrast to Apollo’s very warm hands. You shuddered, but it wasn’t from the cold, as your breath hitched in your throat when you felt a rough thumb rubbing small circles on your ribcage. It had always been one of your sweet spots for some reason, and he had pinpointed it first try. You cupped his face with your hands and brought him back to your lips, like a thirsty man being handed a cup of fresh water. Your lips collided with his and the embrace felt even more fiery than before, one of his hands moving to your back to press him even more into you, one of his knees parting your thighs and making you sigh in surprise. Your bodies were glued together and you couldn’t get enough of being pressed against the hard planes of his torso, his heat radiating through your clothes and lighting your body ablaze. You melted into his embrace, into his soft lips that nibbled and sucked at you tentatively, an inherent passion and gentleness in every move.

It was intoxicating… If you weren’t dizzy enough because of the drinks, you were now definitely high on Apollo’s lascivious kisses. It was unbelievable how you thought him to be so pure and childish, as he revealed the lewder, hungrier part of himself, claiming you as his own and engulfing you in his scorching hold.

You didn’t mind.

#apollo justice #apollo #x reader #ace attorney #intoxicated #dual destinies #reader #fanfiction #self insert #kissing #booze #athena cykes #one shot #romance

[shadowdianne]

The mysterious grey blob returns with yet another prompt. Should you choose to accept this challenge, it must be completed AFTER A GOOD NIGHT'S REST. Ahem. Five words: Narcissa teaches Hermione about art. Go nuts-- provided you have slept.

Hello blob. (Tagging your creator since tumblr is not the best at letting people know their ask has been answered: @naralanis) I truly hope you like this approach xD

Also: A03 version

-The description of the National gallery is amix of what I remember from the time I visited London and the few pictures andvids I’ve been able to find. Probably not perfect and one part of my fic writerpersona is crying at but I implore clemency on that.

Also, insert here the usual disclaimer of I’mstill learning to navigate through these characters so apologies for anyOOCness.

PS: Slight mention to another one shot I wrote titled“Halt”. Which, as a jibe to our tumblr situation of not being able to writeyou-know-what I will merely describe it as lemon.

On with the story, shall we?

The museumwas about to close, the echoes of quiet steps from the few people still walkingthrough the maze of mixed big chambers and quiet corners a barely-there soundthat Hermione didn’t truly pay attention at as she walked briskly to one of thesmaller rooms; the lavender hue in where the walls were painted framing thepaintings she passed by a blurr, the golden frames that supported each portraita glimmer as she craned her neck; trying to find the blonde witch she had regrettablyleft behind a few minutes ago.

She foundher staring at one small portrait, back facing her and hands grasping the longsleeves of the blouse she wore; perhaps just slightly closer to the wizardingworld’s fashion than the muggle one but simple enough to not truly stand out inthe middle of the Gallery. Smiling despise the slight soreness on her calvesafter wandering for so long inside the museum, the brunette witch approachedthe older woman, tilting her head just enough so she could get a glimpse ofNarcissa’s profile; on the easy, yet small and soft, smile that curved herlips. Lips the brunette looked at for what felt the hundredth time ever sincethe woman had apparated inside her home a few hours ago; the shade of faded byobvious red the only thing she could truly focus on.

UntilNarcissa rose the blonde brow she was able to see from her position and turnedtowards her, soft smile turning into an almost teasing one.

“Boredalready?” The question held the same mirth-laced tone her expression conveyed,and Hermione found herself blushing just slightly, the heat on her cheeksrising and then fading as she swallowed, shrugging noncommittally as sheapproached the older witch with less brusque steps.

“I’m notbored.” She protested, but it was a feeble try and both of them knew. It wastruly no secret that art, any form of it, wasn’t exactly something she admired.Not in the same capacity Narcissa obviously did. “I just didn’t think you wouldfind muggle paintings so interesting.”

That, atleast, was partially true. When Narcissa had mentioned the idea of a date likethis Hermione had needed a few seconds to process. Not because she doubtedNarcissa’s capacity to enjoy muggle-made things (that much had been proved theday after her elevator had broken and she had carried her to every other placeshe had been to think off that the blonde witch would enjoy) but because shehad ingrained the notion that every portrait in the wizarding world moved quitedeeply. Watching immobile paintings didn’t seem like something Narcissa Blackwould enjoy.

She obviouslyneeded to re-check her facts because the blonde had been completely enamored byevery other painting they had come across, pointing details Hermione wasn’teven able to focus on before her own mind pushed her to move forwards.Something that, back when she had been a child, had elicited a sigh from herparents more times than she was able to remember as she memorized the shortlines beneath every other portrait before declaring she was already done.

And,despite the years passed, she seemed to still be holding on that habit as,after more than an hour of following Narcissa around she had found herselfwalking quicker between the rooms, paying attention to a few portraits here andthere, glancing at artists, dates and the sparse descriptions before moving tothe next one. Which had led her to finish way quicker than the woman she nowhad in front of her; almost immobile if it wasn’t because of the small knowingglint on her eyes, the trembling of her upper lip.

“But I do.”The older witch finally replied, raising her chin, pointing at the portrait shehad been staring at before Hermione had found her. At some place at their backthe brunette could hear the quiet whispers of a couple walking, probablytowards the same direction she had just come from: The Exit. “Painting… or anyother form of art really is just an interesting form of magic. Whether if thepaintings are imbued with hexes or not.” The addition to her first statement madeHermione blush again, forcing her eyes to focus past Narcissa and the blue andblack palette she had chosen for her clothes that day and gaze the painting onitself.

She wasable to recognize it, of course; the title coming to her just a second beforeher eyes -majorly because of simply muscle memory- fell to the small noteattached to it.

“TheArnolfini portrait.” Her mutter echoed between them, the quiet voices of thecouple lost in the maze once more as Narcissa nodded approvingly, the movementcausing Hermione to glance back at her; curious.

Of all theportraits the National Gallery had she would have never considered this one inparticular would catch the other witch’s attention. She could remember someone-her mother perhaps? - telling her about the complexity of the portrait, thedetails hidden to the naked eye, the use of lighting and colors. Still, thescene presented to the viewer wasn’t really all that majestic if someone wantedher opinion; two people, man and woman, looking directly to them, hands intertwined.

“Goodmemory.” Narcissa’s voice reached her from behind, the brunette realizing toolate that the blonde had approached her, standing closer than before, slightlyto her back. Her tone was but a whisper, the pitch soft and the words caressingher earlobe in the form of soft puffs of air. Despite her automatic try ofmasking her emotions on such a public place Hermione couldn’t help theautomatic pleasurable shiver that run down her spine; the praising getting thebest of her.

“Don’t dothat.” She replied, and she could hear the chuckle from the older woman beforea small nod close to her temple told her that Narcissa would stop the teasing;for now. Sighing, raising her shoulders a little with her eyes focusing oncemore in the portrait, Hermione read the date, the artist and the year theGallery had bought it, her voice sounding much more colder than intended.Wincing a little, not really knowing where to look, how to look, at the portraitthat had obviously entranced Narcissa, she glanced back to the older witch;completely at loss. “Van Eyck.” She repeated, the strong cluster of consonantssounding slightly off, as if her tongue wasn’t exactly rising in the right way,nor with enough force. “Didn’t he paint the Altarpiece? In Ghent?”

Chucklingbut with a warm glint on her blue eyes, Narcissa nodded. “He didn’t do italone.But yes.” She added, pressing her side against Hermione’s just enough forthe brunette to feel her warmth through their clothing. A little trick that itdidn’t matter how many times the blonde told her wasn’t produce of any hex orspell since she was convinced it must be an enchantment, a jinx, a curse even,of any kind. Taking a sharp gulp of air, feeling the scent of lilacs hangingaround the immediate proximity of Narcissa, Hermione tried to focus on theportrait alone, on the objects that cluttered the space behind the couple; themirror, the dog at their feet.

“I’m justnot very good at this.” She admitted, with a dejected sigh but her somberattitude was quickly fixed by the touch of Narcissa’s left hand on her hip,guiding her to the closest spot in front of the portrait without crossing thesmall line marked a few inches away from it.

“You arevery good at picking details.” The blonde said, still close enough for hervoice to caress Hermione’s neck as they both stood in front of the painting,the fact that they had minutes at best before they were asked to leave a fadingmemory in the younger witch’s mind.

“I preferthings that I can quantify.” The Gryffindor replied, and it was true of course;magical laws, arithmancy, transfiguration. All of those skills were easy forher to pick, to use, to understand. Two plus two would always equal four. Art,however, was different; more fleeting, less obvious, and while the brunettecould admit that the portrait felt life-like in a very different way magicportraits looked, she couldn’t truly understand the catch behind it, theimportance that the portrait had.

“Qui desponsari videbantur per fidem" The blonde’s voice sliced throughHermione’s musings and made her rise her brows, curious. Narcissa’s Latin was,obviously, flawless, but the brunette needed a few seconds to translate the phrase,Latin not being exactly something she used all that much if one didn’t countthe spells she used.

“Marryingaccording to the faith?” Her voice rose, not entirely sure if she had pickedthe subtleties of the language. The slight nod from Narcissa, one that made theblonde’s hair brush against her skin, made her hum, curious.

“There aretheories.” The blonde spoke, her hand still at Hermione’s waist, fingersdrawing circles as she spoke, lazy slow caresses that made the brunette biteher bottom lip. “That say that this portrait wasn’t only a portrait but amarrying contract.” Smile widening, Narcissa pointed at the portrait with herfree hand, her fingers at the level of the headdress of the painted woman. “However,a non-married woman -one that is about to be married- wouldn’t have had herhair like that; she would have it down.”

“Oh.”Despite her initial weariness, Hermione couldn’t help herself on feelinginterested by this sudden piece of information, her eyes focusing now on theposition of the hands, on the way the man looked directly at them while thewoman didn’t as much, on how everything was positioned, on the manner the otherhand of the woman had been painted. “So, they were already married when thishappened?”

A chuckleand Narcissa stepping away made her glance at her back, confused.

“That’s themystery.” The blonde replied, a wink on her azure eyes. “Shall we go? I had theimpression you were bored.”

Grumblinggood-naturedly but following the blonde nonetheless, Hermione casted one lastglance to the portrait they were leaving behind, a few pointed glares of someguards the walked past telling them they were cutting it close already.

“I guessart is not as boring as I thought.” She admitted once they finally reached themain hall, glancing at Narcissa as the blonde grazed the back of her hand,clasping it in a far too light touch, letting Hermione being the one whorotated the wrist, so they could intertwin their fingers together.

“I can always try to paint you. See if thatmakes it more interesting to you.” Narcissa’s salacious remark elicited yetanother blush in who knew how many minutes. One the brunette was quick to respondwith a light yet quick slap on the blonde’s forearm.

“I knew weshouldn’t have watched Titanic.”

Narcissarolled her eyes good-naturedly before grasping Hermione’s offending handbetween her own, a quick kiss on the brunette’s knuckles buying her time asthey, finally, walked outside the Gallery, the quickly losing light creatinglong shadows around them both as lamps blinked; pools of light deterring theblobs of black.

“I didn’tsay I planned on painting you naked.” The blonde’s chuckled, a little more airily.“But if that’s your wish…”

“Cissy!”

#Cissamione #prompt #naralanis #or grey blob? #uhm #guess we will never know #Anonymous

[alice-chan-chan]

The Rose’s Reply

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs Writer: @alice-chan-chan Characters: Nakahara Chuuya and others Rating: G Genre: Romance, Humour Pairing: ChuuAku Warnings: OOC Summary: Chuuya’s letter to Akutagawa, a self-proclaimed sequel to  A Cactus's Ode to the Rose by @bandaged-chessmaster, should be read only after reading the original (Akutagawa’s part), otherwise makes no sense

My little bud! What can I say?

The world had always been so grey…

Until I saw your deep grey eyes,

I hadn’t even realized,

How dark and sad my life had been,

Engulfed in everlasting sins.

They said: “You shine! Your petals bloom!

The world is bright for rose like you!”

Oh! Never wake me up again!

I wish I could just fade away…

I sank. My ship just craved a port -

And then you came, my small support.

I take your hand. I smile. I live.

All roses need a love to give,

And I don’t care that you have thorns…

DAZAI!!! My letter!! Why!!! You!! Tore!?

#bungou stray dogs #nakahara chuuya #akutagawa ryunosuke #Dazai Osamu #chuuaku #fanfiction #my fanfiction #link #a friend's fanfiction #(please do read Annie's fanfic! it's so cute and totally heart-melting) #(I wanted to write the Chuuya's part in the same style but ended up with some humor as always... RIP me)

[raichoose-moved-again]

I’ll be there until the end! Count on me - you’ve always got a friend!

Indie Multifandom Multimuse feat. Canons and OCs, all loved by Ann, 25+, she / her! Blog remade Nov. 2021. 

Promo template by Canva ; Picrew (pink-haired gal up top!) by karameruya ; OC art (dark-haired man on blue background!) was a gift from thatonesakudere ; lyric quote by KISS.  

Please like or reblog (preferably the latter!) if interested. 

#indie rp #multifandom rp #multimuse rp #never be lonely ( my account ) #i can be your long lost pal ( mun ) #i've come to talk with you again ( ooc ) #roses never fade ( ooc support )

[fandomimagines-andsoforth]

Stay with me (Enjolras x Reader)

(A/N): This imagine will be one of the goriest and depressing fan-fictions I have written. But, I have put all my heart into this one-shot, and I hope you enjoy it. If you really enjoyed it, please like and comment down below. Feel free to contact and DM me for requests on imagines, head-canons, and one shots. (THAT GIF THO)

Enjolras is a little OOC, That’s because, In the books and movie, he had no interest in women. In this imagine, he is courting one. So that goes against the character a smidge. But He's still the passionate and intense Enjolras we all know and love.

When You’re fatality injured, Enjolras struggles to save your life. Will you survive? Or could your death be the reason he’s never had any interest another woman? Find out in the next chapter.

Word Count: 2,000

Warnings: Gore, Blood, Violence, Police brutality, Angst, Serious feels. 

(I do not own any of the named characters, as I am not Victor Hugo. But damn it I wish I was.)

It was just supposed to be a small Les Amis de l'ABC rally. You were just supposed to support your fiancé. The French government wasn't supposed to impose. And You weren't supposed to be shot. 

You don't remember much of anything clearly. You do recall a loud crash, the stumble of hooves on cobblestone, the screams of the crowd as they were shoved and trampled. And fired shots ringing out.

One particular scream caught your attention as you were looking for a way out of the panic, a little girl no older than 7 was standing alone, crying. Just ahead of her a soldier was storming forward on horseback, relentlessly tearing through the crowd, firing bullets at the peasants. He was going to ram right into her or shoot her first. 

Little ways in front of you, a frantic Enjolras was shouting your name over the gunfire, desperate to find you among the hysteria. You wanted to go to him, but You couldn't just stand there and do nothing, you had to save her. So, you gathered your courage and bolted to the little girl in an attempt to save her life.

You shoved and pushed your way through the madness. Breathlessly sprinting, you were almost there. The little girl was almost safe in your arms. You were so close. 

BANG...

A scream...

Then silence...

The scream was not of your own but of your fiance, Enjolras. Despite the panic, he saw your innocence be shot down and his heart stopped. Everything seemed to slow around him as his whole world collapsed. Enjolras froze and let out a cry of anguish and horror, before barreling towards you.

He skidded across the sharp cobblestone, bloodying his knees. Enjolras shielded your body with his own from the damn soldier's horses. He delicately lifted your head onto his lap and applied pressure to your abdomen. His hands were blood-soaked and his vest was stained, but none of that mattered in the moment.

 You were unconscious, but still breathing, thank the Lord. But you were not out of danger yet, Enjolras knew this. You were losing blood fast and he had to get you out of the massacre. He scooped you up in his arms and weaved his way out of the streets. 

Everything was blurry and distorted Enjolras felt a wave uneasiness within him. He just watched the love of his life be shot. How could he not be in despair? He knew he had to focus, and he knew he had to get you to Joly. He did not know if you were going to be alive if he didn't get you there in time. 

He banged on Joly's flat door with his shoulder, his arms occupied with cradling you.

"Hello, Enjolra- Oh dear," Joly's eyes widened at the bloody sight.

"Please, say you can help her," Enjolras pleaded, his eyes begging and his teeth biting back tears. Enjolras never cried, he was truly desperate.

"Follow me," Joly wasted no time and guided Enjolras through the small flat to a narrow guest room. 

The room was small, shabby with a twin bed in one corner and not much surrounding. One single window lets natural light in.  Besides the bed, stood a rickety, uneven desk.  Methodically placed on top, were shiny, metal needles, scalpels, and jagged instruments, all precisely fixed on a tray. Some looked like torture devices. It was a terrible sight to see. One could only imagine the horrors they could be used for. These were only Joly's tools. He was a bit peculiar in his own way.

Often, Joly was a light-hearted and cheerful person, but he did have a more eccentric, dark side. He was a hypochondriac who studied the morbid and gruesome side of medicine. But admittedly, Joly was indeed skilled in his field of practice. Ever since he went to college with Enjolras and joined the revolution, Enjolras trusted him, even with your life. The most precious thing.

“Set her here,” Joly motioned to the bed. “What happened?” he inspected the wound when Enjolras set you down.

"(Y/n), she..." Enjolras paused to catch his breath. "They s-shot her... There was an attack at the rally. The Français soldiers slaughtered the streets, it was a genocide. They wanted to silence the revolution. Sending soldiers to kill the peasants-" his breath hitched.

"And my (Y/n)- I should have been there, I should have protected her. Damn it, why wasn't I there?" He mentally beat himself and blinked back tears.

"Enjolras," Joly placed a hand on his shoulder. "There's nothing you could have done."  

Despite Joly's words of comfort, Enjolras knew that he should have kept you safe. He thought he failed you. It could possibly cost him your life. Joly immediately assessed your wounds.

"A Bullet shell is still lodged in the lower abdomen, it seems it entered a blood vessel that's why she's bleeding out so much." He started to cut your corset open with scissors. 

"Judging from the location that the bullet pierced, blood is most likely flooding the lungs. The bullet needs to be extracted immediately or else the blood with clot her lungs and (Y/n) will choke," He finished.

At that moment Enjolras wanted to pass out. Everything was hazy and ill-defined. But he needed to keep going, clear his mind and focus on saving you. Joly hesitated and his expression darkened, “There is... um, a slight grievance.”

“Yes? Tell me. What is it?” Enjolras urged. Why is he tarrying? 

"You won't like it and she'll suffer, but I need to keep her conscious for this.”

"No!" Enjolras shuddered at the thought. Was he mad?

"I can't make her suffer through that, there has to be another way."

"(Y/n) needs to be responsive or she’ll go into cardiac arrest, she's losing time," Joly countered.

Enjolras sighed and gave in, "Fine, do what must be done... Just- help her.”

Joly nodded, "Thank you," He pulled out a long syringe of clear liquid. "A shot of naloxone hydrochloride should jump start (Y/n)'s heart enough for her to wake." Joly tapped the needle and some clear liquid squirted out at the tip. He positioned the syringe above her heart. "Hold her shoulders down please.”

Enjolras slipped off his jacket and did what he was told. At least (Y/n) wouldn't feel this pain, he thought. 

Joly plunged the needle into your chest. Enjolras cringed. 

"It should only take a few moments now." Joly massaged the area where the needle had just been injected. A moment of silence passed as he used more gauze to stop your wound bleeding. While Enjolras nervously anticipated what was to come.

…

You jumped awake, gasping for air and coughing up blood. Your lungs burned for oxygen and your eyes stung with tears that clouded your vision. There was a searing pain in your waist. You couldn't see or hear what was happening around you. Everything was disjointed and confusing. Enjolras held your shoulders down. His heart racing and his palms sweating. This was indeed a nightmare.

"I need you to hold her head up so the blood doesn’t clog her airways," Joly said, about to start.

Hovering, Enjolras positioned your head between his forearms and cradled your head in his hands. "(Y/n)! Can you hear me?"

Panting, you nodded. He let out a sigh of relief “(Y/n), love, look at me."

You recognized your lover's voice immediately, and your tired eyes searched for him. You started to fade out.

 “I need you to stay awake,” Enjolras knitted his eyebrows in concern. You felt Joly slice your skin with a scalpel. You moaned and squeezed your eyes shut. The intense agony of your flesh being torn was too much for you to handle.

 “It hurts,” you winced.

“I know, I know. Keep your eyes on me," Enjolras coaxed. He cupped your face and stroked your hair to calm and relief some of the pain. He hated every second of this torment. Seeing your suffering is agonizing to him.

 "Keep her going just a bit more. I'm nearly done," Joly called from his workspace. He almost had the bullet.

“I'm so tired” the words barely got past your mouth. Your brain hurt and your mouth tasted like rust from the blood.

 “Fight it, my love. Don’t give up” He wipes your tear with his thumb. Don't give up, Enjolras repeated to himself. She needs you, don't give up.

You wanted to scream from pain due to Joly's digging at your flesh. Why are you in so much pain? Why won't Enjolras make it stop?

Enjolras saw your fatigue, “Stay with me, (Y/n).” He knew that you could make it, he knew that you were strong.

There was a fiery agony going through your body and you cried out for it to stop. The pain was ceaseless and your head pounded. You thought that your torments would never end and that it was hopeless. You were about to give out when suddenly the misery lessened. Your nerves relaxed and your heart rate slowed.

“It's Finished,” Joly sighed and wiped beads of sweat from his brow.

Your chest rose and fell with exhaustion. Only traces of the searing pain lingered. You wanted so badly to sleep, and return to the comfortable darkness. If Enjolras would allow it, you weakly glanced up at him.

"Sleep, my love." he brushed the stray hairs away from your face, "I'm here.”

You leant into his hand and closed your eyes. Enjolras took comfort in your shallow breathing and turned to Joly in gratitude "How can I ever thank you?"

Joly finished stitching and wiped your blood off his hands, "No thanks necessary," he placed his hand on Enjolras' shoulder "Brother.”

Joly stood and dusted his trousers, "I’ll leave you be with her. You may use the guest room as long as you need.”

Enjolras shook his head, "I appreciate your hospitality but you've done enough. Besides, I wouldn't want to trouble the mistress, Musichetta." 

He then gazed at you, "I need to take (Y/n) back to our flat, and care for her there. She'll be safe."

"I understand," Joly nodded. "Let me give you some dressings before you go," He slid open a drawer and handed Enjolras a white bundle of gauze and cloth. "Change them out twice daily and come to me should you need more. However, I think this should suffice." 

"Again, thank you." Enjolras slipped the bundle of dressings in his coat pocket. "Is there anything I should know?" He asked.

"Just complete bed rest and she should be awake within the next few hours. But there is a possibility (Y/n) will not remember- uhh," Joly hesitated, "The... events, so to speak, of today."

“Understandable,” Enjolras nodded. It might be better that way he thought, He didn’t want you to remember any trauma of today and you could live a normal life with him, the life you always wanted. Enjolras wanted to give you a life of plenty, where you didn’t have to work so much. You could spend the rest of your days together with a home in the country as a family. But he had to make you safe first.

He delicately lifted you up into his arms, careful not to press into your side as not to harm you further. And made the journey home.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Part Two Coming Soon.

#les mis #les mierables #les miserables x reader #French Revolution #enjolras #enjolras x grantaire #enjolras imagine #enjolras x reader #suddenly #by the stars #Jean Valjean #Cosette #Marius Pontmercy #grantiare #i dreamed a dream #one day more #eponine #supernatural #Broadway #fantine #russel crowe #cosplay #x reader #imagines #fandom imagines and so fourth #fanfic #blood #gore #france #vive la revolution

[bi-apps]

Accepted - Marlene McKinnon

lil-muses

submitted:Marlene McKinnon Application

Regular Application OOC Information: Name/Age/Timezone- Erin, 19, GMT Activity Level- Currently I would say around a 7, At the minute I’m in university and work part time but I have a majority of evenings to myself where I can RP. Ships/Anti-Ships- + Marlene/Happiness & Marlene/Chemistry | - Marlene/ Abuse & Marlene/Unhappiness Did you read the rules?: Yes!

IC Information: Character Name- Marlene Grace McKinnon. Age/Birthdate- 19 years old, Marlene was born on the 25th of October making her a Scorpio. Scorpios are a water sign meaning they are driven by passion and emotion. Much like Marlene, these two emotions dominate her decisions, urging her to do what she believes is right. Faceclaim- Emma Mackey Kathryn Newton Virginia Gardner

Occupation- Office Worker at the Magical Law Enforcement, preparing to apply for Auror Training. Blood Status- Pureblood. Traits- + Passionate, Humorous & Fun. - Impulsive, Opinionated & Stubborn Fun- If there is one thing that Marlene McKinnon’s friends can rely on her for, its Patronus- Marlene has not yet been able to conjure a Patronus yet, she longs to but with her uncertainty about her career. Marlene can’t think of a moment in her life where she was truly elated. However, once cast her Patronus would take the form of a horse, an animal with an aspiration based on passion and freedom as well as personal drive. Boggart- Ever since Marlene fell from a tree when she was young, she has had a fear of heights. Quidditch is something she loves to watch but could never take part in.

Key Points-

- When people discuss the McKinnons, it’s almost impossible not to mention the youngest and only daughter of the four McKinnon children. During her Hogwarts years, Marlene was electric. The Hogwarts Corridors echoed with her laughter as she had late night adventures with her closest friends. However, Marlene McKinnon was not always the party animal that she opts to be now. Instead, growing up Marlene was a terribly shy child. She never fit in with the daughters of other families, she wasn’t interested in the fine toy sets or piano lessons. Marlene was far more content reading or going to play quidditch with her older brothers. Nobody made her laugh more than her brothers; they were best friends. She idolised her father for his charm and hard work ethic. Her mother always had high expectations of Marlene, expectations that Marlene frankly did not want to strive for. Marlene loved her mother, but she never seemed to do anything right. As a young girl, her mother focused more on trying to make Marlene fit in than appreciate who her daughter was as an individual. Maybe it was out of fear that Marlene wouldn’t put herself out there and find herself lonely. But the pushing did end up being more of a hindrance than a help. Instead of appreciating her mothers’ concerns, Marlene became aloof to her mother’s wishes. The mother and daughter bond that Carolyn McKinnon hoped for, became more frayed as time went on. - As Marlene progressed into her pre-teen years, her shyness slowly began to fade. Her voice began hollering louder than her teenage brothers, it was as though she had adapted to the chaotic surroundings of having three brothers. Gone were the years of Marlene burying her head into a book at the sight of an argument between her siblings. Suddenly, she could argue her point better than them all. Armed with a witty disposition and a cheeky grin, Marlene McKinnon became a force to be reckoned with. • Hogwarts was a method for Marlene to branch off from her family, a way to make new friends that weren’t the children of her parent’s work colleagues. She became known for voicing her opinions too often resulting in a few howlers from her parents. Despite how supportive of they were of their daughter, with such dangerous times approaching the McKinnon’s wanted to fly under the radar. To their dismay, the youngest McKinnon did not see the point in beating around the bush.

• As a child, Marlene was a follower, the blonde followed the path with the least trouble and conflict. But after gaining some independence at Hogwarts, Marlene became a leader in every sense of the word. She stood by her own opinions no matter what, even if that could be perceived as ignorant. She wanted to defend those who could not defend themselves and believed that her position as a pureblood would benefit this. Marlene couldn’t care less about her words putting her in danger. She wants nothing more than to get her point across. • Marlene’s shoulders are heavy with the weight of ambition. Since the age of twelve, she has longed to become an auror after witnessing her Uncle Henry McKinnon receive an honorary medal for his contribution to the Department of Law Enforcement. As he sauntered across the platform, Marlene’s eyes beamed at the idea of giving back and protecting the communities who could not protect themselves. However, these dreams seem to be slipping through her fingers. Instead of being studious, Marlene filled her Hogwarts years with hedonistic activities such as parties and pranks. Her love of a good time took priority over her career. This was a shocking blow to the girl, as she was faced with a rejection letter from the auror training programme after leaving Hogwarts. Her confidence was knocked, and the weight of rejection sank her deeper into her drive to do right.

• Her adjustment out of Hogwarts has seemed a lot more difficult for Marlene in comparison with her friends. Although she presents a nonchalant front, her closest friends know how hard the auror programme’s rejection ruined her. Her grades managed to gain her a position as a secretary for the magical law enforcement. To distract herself from her failure, Marlene has thrown herself into the Order, willing to take on any task to earn the respect and fight for the cause. However, she remains hopeful that a desk job could put her in a good position for moving up within the ministry.

Changes/Extra Info- N/A

Para Sample- It was a on a grassy pasture in Marlene’s Mckinnon’s hometown of Edge Hill, Liverpool that she fell and broke her arm. Her brother, Max had pushed her from an oak tree after a brief moment of panic when he discovered a wasps nest on the second highest branch. It was that vivid of a memory that Marlene could even remember the snap of her arm as her body tumbled onto the sharp blades of glass. Her throat closed over and her face paled from the shock, the fall was a memory that she could recount word for word. However, the pain afterwards was a blur. It flashed past her eyes like a bolt of lightning. That was the last time that Marlene ever recalled crying. Names or criticisms never bothered the girl growing up, the blonde was able to wave them off which a quick remark for the person to ‘fuck off.’ But as she glanced down at the letter in front of her, her throat felt raw as though she had just swallowed a fistful of glass. Her eyes glancing over the same word over and over again on the scroll of parchment, ‘rejected.’

Eight Letters was all that it had took for Marlene’s world to collapse in around her. It was the 27th of June, only a couple days before Marlene and her peers would leave school. Only a couple of days before Marlene would be shoved out into the world to be left to her own devices. The excited chatter that boomed around the marble arches of the Great Hall faded into a soft murmur. A loud high-pitched ring began to infiltrate her every thought. Marlene McKinnon didn’t cry, she couldn’t, not in front of everyone. Her grip around the parchment tightened as a familiar voice broke Marlene from her thoughts. She began to pull the letter into her, crinkling the red stamp of rejection into the inside pocket of her cloak. With that letter, her dreams were gone. Any chance she had of becoming an auror disappeared from her grasp. “It’s nothing…” Her voice merely a croak against the bustling backdrop of the hall. “I need a ciggie…” Marlene tapped the table, her breath shaky at she rose from the bench. Before she could respond to Lily’s calls of concern, Marlene walked as far as her feet could take her.

As the summer breeze engulfed her senses, Marlene collapsed onto the nearest piece of grass she could find. Prior to the letter, Marlene McKinnon was excited to leave school. It had been a time of new possibilities, new encounters and experiences. Now, everything seemed uncertain and for the first time in a long time, Marlene McKinnon was scared. Her hands trembled as she attempted to light the cigarette between her lips. Finally allowing the tears to spill down her cheeks, Marlene McKinnon didn’t want to leave Hogwarts. What the blonde thought was certain was gone, her excitement had turned to fear. In Hogwarts, she had a purpose, she was safe, and her friends were there. Once they graduate, Marlene didn’t have a clue where she stood. People would move on and Marlene would be left behind, nothing remaining besides the ghost of her dreams. Lying back on the blades of grass, Marlene couldn’t stop the tears that were pouring from her eyes. Marlene McKinnon had gone years without crying but with the crumpled up letter in her pocket laying heavy against her chest, This time, Marlene didn’t know if she’d ever be able to stop.

[someonetheelusivefangirl]

Kogangst - What it Means to be a “Good Leader”

Arghhh, I���m annoyed that I haven’t been working on my headcanons as much recently! I’ve got so many ideas and prompts to work on, but suddenly I have a social life, like wth?! Anyway, I /am/ still writing, though not nearly as much as before. Since there’s less than 8 hours to go until season 3, I thought I would post this headcanon I wrote a couple of weeks ago.

Thank you to @prospails for the prompt! I had great fun doing it and chatting with you (I promise to get around to finishing the other headcanon soon)! If you haven’t checked out their blog, please do! You’re missing out on some quality art!

Prompt: Keith asks Lance if he thinks he’s a good leader.

Apologies for any mistakes and/or OOCness!

The team had just returned from their first mission with Keith acting as leader. It… could’ve gone better. Although they'd managed to save the spacecraft of escapees, quite a few had been caught in the paladins’ conflict with the Galra, most of whom had managed to retreat, unharmed. In the end, the victory was bittersweet.

It was not the first time things hadn’t gone to plan, but to Keith this felt far, /far/ worse than any of their previous mission mishaps. Which, of course, could be traced back to one fact: it was Keith who was now leading the group. That’s what it really boiled down to, and the weight of everyone’s disappointment fell heavily on his shoulders.

During their post-battle meeting, Keith attempted to compliment the others on their accomplishments. He tried to be optimistic, like Shiro would be. Yet, with the reality of his failure set before him, his heart just wasn’t in it, and he was incredibly thankful when Allura quickly picked up the fraying ends of his speech. She spoke about how this was only a learning curve, and that they were all adapting to the new roles they found themselves in. Keith tried to let her words rid him of some of the dreaded guilt that consumed him, but it did little to help.

Afterwards, Keith started to head to the training room, needing to clear his head, only to remember that it was currently being used as makeshift accommodation for the ex-prisoners. In fact, most of the ship was now occupied, and the last thing Keith needed was to have to keep hiding his anger and frustration whilst he was surrounded by people. He /couldn’t/ let them know how much the mission got to him. He’s supposed to be strong, someone they can rely on, to turn to when they were in need. He sighed, wondering for the umpteenth time why the hell Shiro thought Keith should be leader.

Left with few options, Keith made his way to his room, needing a space where he could finally be alone. Maybe then he could bottle up his emotions, since he couldn’t work them off against the gladiator. His door opened with a hiss and he blinked at the sight that met him. 

In the middle of the room, looking very awkward and uncertain, stood Lance. Keith froze. It wasn’t even Lance’s presence that shocked him the most. It was the timid way in which he held himself, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around himself, one of which reached up to rub self-consciously at his neck.

“Hey, Keith.” No nickname, no insult, no smirk, no sarcasm. This wasn’t a Lance he was familiar with. Keith had glimpsed him in the past, but it was often so quick to dissipate, that he hadn’t really ever interacted with him.

“Hey,” he managed to choke out as a reply, before realising that Lance must have been waiting for him. “Do you… Is there something you need?”

“Yes…? No? I'm not really sure. To be honest, I'm a little shaken up after the mission.” To hear someone else say it, to know that he wasn’t the only one struggling was a little comforting. He had felt so pathetic as he had watched the others keep their composure whilst he was falling apart on the inside.

Suddenly as the fatigue from the mission finally caught up with him, Keith removed his jacket and sat down in his bed. Thankfully, Lance needed no verbal invitation before he joined him, leaning back on the wall. At first, Keith thought he might just be pausing, gathering his thoughts before he started, but after a few minutes, Lance still had not spoken. His silent presence helped calm Keith’s nerves, the tightness in his body slowly fading as he relaxed. Now he was sat still, he could think over the mission.

It had all seemed to be going well, though Keith’s stomach had been cramping with nerves, but then he’d hesitated too long, and the Galra had taken advantage of his uncertainty to attack the escapees’ ship. He had known he could no longer be irrational nor make moves without thinking them through, so he had weighed up his options, and yet those few moments were all it took for the Galra to gain the upper hand. Now Keith had no idea what he should be doing.

“Lance…am I a good leader?” The tone of his voice made his own opinion on the matter very clear. Keith could not trust himself to protect so many others. Instead an immediate reassurance, or agreement with Keith, Lance continued to remain quiet.

After a few moments, Keith considered the possibility that Lance had managed to nod off, and his disappointment surprised him. However, when he turned to face him, he found Lance staring at him, assessing him.

“I don’t think you're Shiro.” There it was. Keith had known he could never replace him, but to hear it still stung. He opened his mouth to reply, but Lance apparently hadn’t finished. “I don’t think you're Shiro, but that doesn’t mean you are a bad leader. Yes, the mission didn’t go perfectly, but that was because we were unprepared, that was NOT down to you. In fact, I think you’re the reason we managed to turn the tables on the Galra, at all. You managed to set us all clear goals to accomplish, which meant we weren’t trying to deal with everything at once.” Lance’s voice was low, hushed, yet it sounded loud in the quiet of Keith’s room.

“But- But when I needed to be certain and decisive, at the most important part, I wavered. I wavered and now people are suffering because of it!” Keith’s hands clenched around the sheets of his bed, carving grooves into the surface.

“You were doing it to protect us, weren’t you?” Keith started at his words. He hadn’t spoken about this to his team yet. He assumed they believed he had done it out of fear, and Keith couldn’t deny it, as it was true. He’d been afraid for his team.

A leader should not hesitate. They should have a clear plan in mind. They should be a pillar of support for the team to lean on. Keith had been none of those.

“So, yes, you are a good leader.” …wait. What?

“But all those people-“

“It was the Galra, not you, who injured them.”

“I had to rely on you all so much! Hunk had to point out the weakness in the structure of the Galra’s new weapon, Pidge was the one who snuck up the disable it. You and Red provided cover, whilst Allura and Hunk guided the ship to safety!” Keith’s voice rose, and, to his horror, cracked as he let out all his frustration. “Did I even contribute?! I can’t think, I don’t know, I just-” Lance was hot against Keith’s side as his arms clamped around him, stopping the shaking he hadn’t realised he'd started.

Suddenly completely out of breath and exhausted beyond belief, Keith drew in a large gulp of air as he let his weight fall onto Lance. Here he was again, still being a burden. Couldn’t he do anything right?

“If you ever paid attention to what I said, you’d realise that you played a huge part in the success of the mission-”

“I don’t know if I'd call it a success…” Keith muttered, yelping when one of Lance’s hands slapped him admonishingly in the shoulder.

“Of /course/ it was a success! We saved the people, and the bad guys are long gone! What more do you want?!”

“But the injured-“

“-are fortunate to still have their lives. I thought you knew by now that there are things we cannot help. Nothing will ever go perfectly, you just have to adapt when it doesn’t. And, guess what, Hotshot. That’s what /you/ did.” Keith pulled his head up from Lance’s shoulder, who slowly released his hold of him so that he could sit up once more. With a shock, he realised that the oppressing weight of failing to meet everyone’s expectations had faded, and his breaths came easier and deeper. Still…

“Are you sure I’m… Don’t you think Allura would be bett-” Lance stopped his murmuring with a dramatic sigh, collapsing backwards to lie down on Keith’s bed.

“Do I really have to say it again?! I don’t want your head to get too big to fit in your helmet!” Lance moved his arm, which he had draped across his face, so that he could look at Keith directly. “YOU are a good leader. You ARE a good leader. Don’t make me say this all night! But I /will/ if that’s what it takes to get it through your thick skull that we don’t need to switch or replace you!” Keith couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at Lance’s dramatics. Honestly, he was too much sometimes.

“There we go! Finally, a smile! Come on, we should go back to the others and celebrate!”

Actually, Keith thought as he followed after Lance, he wasn’t too much… maybe Lance was /just/ right.

Fin.

So, I hope you enjoyed it! I hope to be posting more headcanons soon (even ones which aren’t Voltron *gasp*), but feel free to send me any prompts, which I will get to asap! If you’d like to read more of my headcanons, check out my masterpost!

#my headcanon #my hc #keith #keith kogane #lance #lance mcclain #klance #kogangst #angst #season 3 #black paladin keith #red paladin lance #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #fluff #(of course)