#but she's so in love with elizabeth none of that matters

[walnutsxblacklicorice]

If I wanna stay alive

You should never cross my mind

Yeah I knew it

I been through it

If I fall in every time

Wicked love will leave me blind

Yeah I knew it

I been through it

Oh god

Can you make my heart stop

Hit me with your kill shot baby

I mean it so serious

[marchsfreakshow]

Familiarities Upon Death [James Patrick March]

Angst

James' relationship with you faded to one resemblancing his relationship with The Countess. He had to indulge in his childish need for you. No matter your reaction. No matter what it took.

James may be a simp but he also likes his murder. You can all blame 'I Love You Like An Alcoholic' for this. Also, possibly my longest fic ever! Go me.

Warnings: dead dove!! descriptions of cuts, James being gross<3

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

If you had put The Countess and you in a room together, you likely ended up discussing James. She did not love the ghost. She never did. You always did. You forever had his undead heart.

Yet the relationship wavered. It wavered all too similarly. James could feel his heart break again. He couldn't face this. He couldn't. Not again.

How many hearts did he have to leave at your door? How many notes did he have to scribble on his napkins? How many flowers did he have to get Liz or Iris to order for you? How much murder did he have to get through, just to get you? You modern, stubborn, darling, annoying thing!! Were you trying to torture him??

"Darling I have managed to order one of your favourite meals."

"My dear, I noticed this dress on a visitor so I killed her and had the dress washed for you. Please enjoy it."

"My hummingbird, what books do you enjoy nowadays?"

Question after question. Need after need. Physical affection halted. Just holding your fingers. Holding your hand against his lips was all he wanted. It would feed his desperation for you for months. All he wanted was a look. One measly look into your eyes. One small glint of hope that your relationship with the ghost had not fallen into his one with Elizabeth.

He came to accept that he once again had his heart broken. His ghostly void of a heart. Deader inside than it was before.

"James?" Your voice rang. Like a fire stoked after so long of ice. The killer was scrambling at your feet like a clingy puppy. Milking and lapping up the noise of his name leaving your lips. Still as wonderful, still as ethereal as ever. Yet he stayed silent. Don't say anything stupid now James, you'll ruin this opportunity. "Can you murder someone for me?"

"Yes. Yes of course my dear." James's voice was suddenly shaky, standing up and holding your hands to his chest. His free hand around the small of your back, like he had craved to do for so many weeks. "Name who and it will be done."

"Me."

Eye contact like none before. Was what you were asking true? Did you want him to be your murderer? Truly? "D-dear?"

"Kill me, James." You stated. "Whether or not you want theatrics, it's your choice."

There was a stunned silence from the ghost in front of you. For 5 minutes, the silence continued. His response was an uncharacteristic quiet and nervous answer. "Why? Why my dear? Why must you crave death when you are so loved by family outside this drab heap?" Almost rushed, worried. James had never been so rushed with his words. The usually calm, collected man was a mess in front of you. Desperate for you to be living your life. The most odd statement for him to think. What was he thinking? He wanted you with him 24/7, obviously, but you were so accomplished already in life, and offers were at your feet.

Even an offer to still live but have a blood-loving virus instead. She had offered gracefully and didn't expect an answer at once. Gave you time to think. Yet, The Countess waited still. She awaited an answer with lowering patience. Any new day, and she might've killed you herself or turn you anyway. Enjoyed the nectarine that kept you alive. The liquid was a rush of endorphins for the woman.

"Because I don't want that life, James. I need that life like I need a ton of bricks heaping upon me." Your eyes never broke his when you spoke your words calmly, and rationally. "I need you like I need a ton of bricks heaping upon me."

The ghost could only look worried and almost scared at your sentences. What on earth were you saying? What was this nonsense you had drilled into your mind? "...were my gifts not enough my bird? Were the..the.. darling meals I offered not enough?" He stammered his way through the cries. The pleas to keep you alive. Why, any other time you may have offered yourself, James would create a theatre performance out of it. An erotic performance. Looking into your eyes was nothing but a confirmation. "...as you wish my hummingbird." You dropped yourself out of his hold.

Walking yourself into your room. James followed close by, stalking you the way he had in the shadows for weeks on weeks. Your demand was simply insane, and it was nonsense in his head. Possibly the only person he never wanted to murder. He never wanted to lay his blade on your skin in any way. Whether you asked it from him so you could cum or not. That one, singular dress he stole for you, laid on your bed. Bare and blue. The navy glistened still under the barely dim light. Yet you could find his eyes still. "Will...you put the dress on for me my dear?" He asked, hesitantly. Blade twirling his fingers nervously. This was unlike the killer you knew. He was nervous, stammering, fiddling with his weapon. Scared? No, no. Of course, he wasn't scared. Was he?

The rustling of clothes brought him out of raging thoughts. The fabric he had laid bare for you, suddenly clinging to your skin. It still reeked of iron and floral perfume. The unflattering combation wafting into your nose, as it moved with you. "You are stuck in that dress forever when I do this. You understand that my darling?"

"Don't talk down to me. I know what the fuck I'm doing." You seethed back, just wanting this over with. Defiance was never something James took kindly to.

"You, my dear, speak to me like that again, your death will not be quick and simple like you desire."

"Just get it over with James." You snapped. Did you really hate him that much? Did you realise despise the killer so much you didn't want to enjoy this process?

The silence appeared for almost a strangling minute. Strangling for one word from either of you. James dared not speak his plan to you. It would only annoy you further. Only make your desire for a quick death stronger.

Instead, he simply knocked you out. Let you fall to the ground with a hard thump. As much as he loved you, James didn't like people speaking back to him. You were not an exception anymore.

Tying you down to wherever he could, the ropes tight. Tight to squeeze hard at your wrists and ankles. The circulation soon going dead, numbed by fibre keeping you upright. Instead of that dazzling, navy blue dress you wore, you were naked. Left only in whatever underwear you were wearing. A sight to behold. A sight James enjoyed all too much. He would take you now if it weren't for his respect for your body. Tugs at your wrist as you slowly woke from unconsciousness. Dingy dusk meeting your glazed, tired eyes. Blinking and gathering your bearings. Another tug. Wait? What was happening? "James?" You asked hoarse. Squirming in place against the cold metal table. Yeesh! Talk about freezing! "James, what am I doing on here?" You asked again.

Silence still.

Alright, you were starting to get a bit scared now. "J-James?" A wavering voice, a quivering lip. No! Get yourself together! It's simply...a little foreplay...you deluded yourself into thinking. Foreplay. That's all this was.

"I had given you plenty of time my dear." The muffled voice became louder as the steps grew closer. "Theatrics are what I desire from you. Love and obedience. It is a simple request yes?"

A moment of silence between the two of you. He took your silence as the answer.

"It seems even that could not be obtained from you. She has poisoned you against me." Ah, his childishness. Pettiness. The Countess hadn't done anything to you. Not yet anyway. "And the fact you decided to come to me for this murder, only means that I will continue to claim you." His needs to claim and want like a petulant child! It was annoying to no end. Always found yourself on the brink of yelling at the ghost to shut the fuck up for once. You wanted to rip that mask off of James and slice his lips off. Bash his teeth out so he knew how dreadful it was to be silenced. How much it was despised.

You kept your lips shut. You shut yourself up and did not speak another word. Speaking out fear would only encourage James to take his time. It would only increase his lust for your screams. Fuck this. You tugged. You pulled and panted as you struggled. If you didn't know any better, you'd think James was getting hard from this scenario. Loving the way your chest moved as your breathing increased. How shaky your legs were looking. How terrible the grip was your hands had, on nothing. A lulled head as your struggles became useless. Obviously, it was useless. That logic became clear enough within the first few seconds of your attempt to free yourself.

A bittersweet kiss on your quivering lips. Murdering fingers finding your jaw and holding your head up. "Even when you are struggling you are still ethereal my dear." Damn this man to all hell. He was in love and lust and obsession. A disgusting killer who murdered dozens. Still murders dozens. The thought that he carved a soul out of every person who passed him by...just to leave it in your room for your next visit. Deranged and manic. Nothing but pure insanity.

"fuu...fuck you.." Your words were tired, lifeless already.

"I have given you ample opportunities to do so my dear. Yet you never reciprocate."

A harsh silence fell yet again. It lingered in the room for what felt like hours. It stung with every breath leaving your lungs. Harsh and continuing reminders of the predicament you were stuck in. The ghostly killer who loved you so, prepared to torture your unfaint heart. Of course, you were used to grim, unfair and macabre ways of life. No one gets anywhere by playing fair, do they? You certainly didn't. You never played by the rules or played fair with others close by. Ticking and slipping cuts, wages and skin here. There. Everywhere.

However, it seemed all for nought at this point. Only to become an unwilling cherry on top of James' list of loves and lusts. Just where he wanted you.

Your voice was worn eventually. Your shaking had not quit. Your head lulled again. Yet, he was just starting. Cuts that covered your arms. Dripping the blood down the side of your body. Warm red liquid making you shiver and squirm as it slowly eased out of the spliced skin. Such beautiful skin. If only you had loved James back the way he wanted you to. Useless, heavy breaths that never deterred your killer of a lover. His cuts started with a dull, rusty blade. A 'J' on your palms. Jagged and unfit letters now etched into your hand. Swift, sharp gashes in random directions on your forearms, making small cries and screams leave those pretty kissable lips of yours. A quick repeat on your other arm. Oh, it was like a work of art... truly it was. Such decorated arms, bleeding red, never-ending. It might've killed you just then. "Determined to live aren't you?"

"Please... please James. Please. I'll be good, I'll love you the way you want again. Please just stop."

Oh no no no no...no..you sweet thing. That wasn't good enough anymore. Nope. Your sweet sobs and begs wouldn't get you anywhere anymore. Despite how much James wanted to kiss those cuts he made and love you eternally. "You said you wanted to die, and die you shall." His voice was still calm, cool and collected. How could a man like James go from a whining, needy man-child, to a tall-standing, confident killer? Oh right. Because he was obsessed with you. You were all he craved. Now you had ruined it. You didn't love him anymore. And it broke him into more pieces he couldn't pick up. Spending years scraping the bottom of the barrel for affection from James. Yet now, he didn't feel a need for that from you.

The rusty blade teasing your throat, pushing slightly against that pressure point needed. Only for a moment. Breathing heavy and... almost a whine escaping you once it was pulled from your neck. "Desperate for the release death will bring my pet... You are more naïve than I believed."

Large, unkind slashes to your legs. One after the other, never stopping until James was satisfied. He was never satisfied. Your constant, tired and weepy gaze on him. Sniffling nothing as you pouted those spit-covered, pretty red lips of yours. You looked like you were teasing him, not on purpose of course. You were naturally a sobbing, drivelling mess right now. And it could not have pleased your killer more. "Do not look so prettily upon me my dear, you may make me feel bad." He hummed nonchalantly, dragging the tip of the blade up your cervix. One long cut, making a horrible, rusty mark against the underwear you wore. Yet, it still split, and cold, uncaring air was swiftly met.

The cuts to your torso were different. He couldn't do as you probably well pleased, since any cut would mean death. And he wanted to kill you how he killed himself. The sweet slice to your neck. Making blood splatter and splutter down your body, covering James as it sprayed. Convulsing and screams, whimpers escaping you. Your death was approaching faster than expected. And James had decided to once again give you a kiss. Taking his, frankly, attractive, mask off and holding your bloody chin up. Lost eyes not focusing. You were colder. You couldn't tell your surroundings. "I knew you would die beautifully my darling." He faintly whispered. Cold lips meeting fleeting warmth. Oh, he loved kissing you. Even if that kiss was one pressed to your now corpse.

Death was different. It wasn't heaven or hell like Christians described. It wasn't like a waiting room like your parents described. It wasn't like a meeting with a hooded skeleton and a ride to the underworld like your sibling described. It was cold. Silent. Unloved. Black and nothing. It had consumed you whole. Eaten you like a starving man would any bug he could find on the street. Death was uncaring like the living world was. It didn't care what you were in life. An angel to others or a nuisance running amok, you were all consumed. Taken wholly by a void that rarely spat you back out. If it did, you were a ghost. The soul that couldn't be kept down.

The running void consumed you for 10 minutes. 15, tops. James was almost worried you were not about to ghost the place he needed you to call home. He stood and observed. Watched your corpse become cold and rigid. You died so beautifully. All the ghostly killer did was stand and watch. He watched, frozen in place. Was your soul even that upset at the other? Maybe he should weaken himself for your soul to appear. "Dear...you do realise I need you still yes? Come on. I am aware of you.." he urged your stiff body. Minutes passed. The ticking of his internal clock was growing more invasive, more panicky as he had not seen a shift of your soul yet. "This is not a game my pet, come to me. Now."

Your soul appeared eventually. Slumped on your knees by your rotting body. Rubbing your eyes like a sleepy child, before gathering your bearings and looking up at James. Sudden memories hitting your head and a cowering whimper escaping you. He took notice of the noise and looked down at you. Throwing his mask to the side as he scooped your ghost up, and laid you out on the scratchy sheets. Too much movement for someone who just spent 15 minutes in a void. "J-James..stop.." you urged quietly as he placed kisses over you. Over your face, your neck, clavicle. Every single little cut on your body he kissed. It wasn't soothing despite what he thought. It wasn't sweet and loving like he so craved. "Stop!"

His eyes became worried and wide as he pulled himself away from your thigh. "Dear?" The ghost was clingy. Horribly clingy.

"Can you give me like 5 fucking seconds before you try and fuck my ghost?"

"b-but darling-"

"James! Give. Me. A. Fucking moment. Understand me?" He cowered again, scared to lose you again. A nod as a response as James got up and left the room without another word. Instead of walking down to his room and having a drink, he stood patiently outside your door and waited. He would wait for the rest of eternity. If he had to.

Your legs were shaky. You explored yourself in the mirror. Dried blood making your skin tinged a little bit. "god..." The whisper leaving you as your arms were practically wound after wound. Your legs as well. The wounds were a physical reminder of the fact your killer was your lover.

You wanted this. You wanted to die here.

But not like this. Not this way. Not with two 'J' 's on your palms, reminding you of the man outside your door. Blinking, you tore away from the mirror, refusing to face yourself anymore.

There, on the bed, laid your clothes before you died, and the dress you were offered so generously. Either way, you were going commando for the rest of time, and then some, so both options were uncomfortable in some way. A sweater and jeans it was. The clothes rustled as they fit you snugly. "Fuck...fuck!!" Emerged from your lips as you paced around the room. "Ohhhh fuck this. This fucking...shitty...bullshit!!" Every word that left you only served as a reminder that you wanted to die. Needing to remind yourself that you were the one who asked to be killed. Unsatisfied with your life and the people in it.

James decided to step into your room now, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. "I thought I taught you to not swear my dear."

"Fuck you!" You started, immediately getting up in James' face without an issue. Practically stomping around him as the harsh words dug into the soul's head and heart. "Fuck you, you fucking prick. 1920s fucking... serial killer. God, you're so hot you annoy the shit out of me! Seriously, why the fuck did you have to fucking kill me this way you fucker?! I expected one fucking slash to the neck, done deal!!"

The ghost, of course, was used to such theatrics from you and stood patiently. Waiting for you to stop spitting venom onto his feet as you circled him. Your words stopped, and he held you again. James simply took you by your waist, holding you tight against him. His hand on the small of your back, his other hand holding yours. Reminiscent of when you asked him to kill you. Bringing you flush against his chest. The angry mutters became silent sniffles and pathetic tears. Blinking and looking up at the killer you adored, hated.

"I fucking hate you."

"No, you don't hate me."

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tags: @babygorewhore / @taintandviolent / @oceanblvd111 / @nahoyasboyfriend / @coentinim / @slutforgarlogan / @briaroftheroses @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re /. @evanpeterspeter / @feefymo / @fear-is-truth / @lacucarachapisser / @marchsfreak / @saintlucretia / @jazz-berry / @t8-ak47

[calisources]

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑? 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒.

All these quotes are taken from different media and some made from scratch about the royal succession line and the troubles it brought during a medieval/fantasy period. Change pronouns, names, titles and locations as you see fit.

You poison a king so that they may take his place.

Have no fear, Stark. I was only keeping it warm for our friend Robert. It's not a very comfortable seat, I'm afraid.

I swear to you, sitting a throne is a thousand times harder than winning one.

Seat Stannis on the Iron Throne and I promise you, the realm will bleed.

I will claim the Iron Throne by myself, with your swords and your allegiance.

If Daenerys is no more than a sweet young girl, the Iron Throne will cut her into sweet young pieces.

Princess Catherine. Your loss has endeared you to the people. They share your grief.

 You've had your courses for days, but you do not tell anyone. I don't understand.

God would have me wed Prince Harry.

But you are his brother's widow. It is impossible. It is forbidden.

I am every inch the soldier... And commander.

In England, widows don't handle swords, much less a widow carrying a prince in her womb. 

And I'll wager that you were praying for a boy.

My mother is already planning my next marriage, though in God's eyes it will be my first marriage.

If you are still a maid, then, Catherine, I can be your husband. 

I will raise you up, you... you and all of England. You will be my princess and... and my queen.

Ten years since the king has been on the throne and there is no heir apparent. Only his brother, gods forbid. 

Daughters don’t inherit, sons do. 

You have a son but you must have a spare too. Gods know what would happen if the boy dies.

The line of succession is clear on these matters. Girls are the last resource.

I am a woman, whoever I marry must be clear on his duty. He is not the crown, I am.

His Majesty has no male heir and will have none but he, Buckingham will succeed to the throne.

By assassinating His Majesty.

Right of Conquest is still a rightful way to gain a throne. Has anyone banned it as a law?

Will you like it when an old man tries to make love to you?

 God forbid that the king should abandon her just to ease his own conscience. I don't think the English people would ever forgive him.

She is threatening the peace in this realm by playing the king with empty promises. No one can predict a son. 

Perhaps the succession must change, this dynasty is large and will survive.

Your Majesty, I beg that you yield to the King's will.

To your wife, the mother of your child. You treat me so unkindly and in public neglect me.

You think he might invade England in support of the queen?

You underestimate the support he/she has with the smallfolk and highborn alike. They would  go to war if you dismiss them.

Perhaps, one day this little girl will preside over empires.

Now I am indeed Queen.

Perhaps Elizabeth isn't even mine! 

Perhaps there should be reasons to annul the marriage and make the king consider marry another. He is still young. 

Nothing like a young bride to make a man forget his troubles. 

He will have his heir or else he will have my head.

Tell Sir Francis to double the guards around the Princess Mary and defend her with their life- for if the King dies, some will be for the boy, others for her.

There shall be a proclamation soon, the king shall announce his heir and the realm will rest.

A lifetime of building an empire can fall in a day because of the wrong successor to the empire.

It is not by blood, anyhow, that man's true continuity is established.

He became their king by right of blood; he's held the position by beating the crap out of anyone who tries to take it away.

When the crown is weak and struggles, anyone can come and sweep it away. And in this world, it is allowed.

This small council tried to work out what that meant for the line of succession.

If she were to wed him, her claim to the throne will increase, as her popularity. 

While the king entertains the highborns, the prince/princess makes friends with the people they rule. The decision is easy.

Whoever he marries is as important as how many heirs he can produce. 

Sons are good for the realm, Daughters are good for alliances. 

My father chose me, his firstborn child, to succeed him. He held to his decision until death.

They stole my crown and murdered my daughter, and they shall answer for it.

I would rather feed my sons to the dragons, than have them carry spears and cups for your drunken, usurper cunt of a king.

I understand why you're angry. And you are my sister and technically have a claim to the throne. And believe me, I would love for someone else to rule. But it can't be you.

Father would hate to see you sit in his seat, when it was never you he chose.

The pretty decent king split the crown between his heirs.

Proclamations are good, but this should have been in written, send to every corner of the world. Now we have war.

When the king needed to be replaced, one of the royal family would be elected to be the new king.

Succession is never peaceful. The King new this and the reason he called a council for his new heir to be chosen.

The line must always continue.

That little bit of dragon blood in him allowed Robert Baratheon to sit on the throne and continue.

Our son is a wastrel and a halfwit. We shudder to think of the throne in his hands.

My greatest hope is that you will surpass me in every way, consigning my name to some forgotten corner of history.

What's most important is what he isn't like—his father. I think you'll find him to be a reasonable man.

The King is easily controlled by those in his council. All too happy to give some of the power away to another.

A king is a martyr to their ideals.

If the world of men is to survive, a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne.

Women can rule as wise as men, perhaps even more.

Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne.

Have you never imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

We have royal wombs, you and I. The child bed is our battlefield.

Ten years you’ve been king, and yet not once have you asked me to be your Hand.

The princess remains your best bet to step closer to the throne. Seduce her, marry her. 

In the end, history will remember little, as history is written by the winners.

You have not one son now but two, Your Grace. Perhaps some changes to the successions are to be made.

I know why you are here. Men want my crown as much as they want the pleasure of a woman. 

I need to give the realm an heir and plenty of spares. 

What use is to gain a throne if you are already in crisis by having no heir by blood?

I can give you what she never gave you. Another son. 

Are the rumors true, then? There is a child in your belly? 

All of my father’s work will crumble if I leave it all to a weak sickly child.

[tainbocuailnge]

Realizing I haven't seen an exceptionally fantastic character analysis from you on my dashboard for a while, so I'd like to ask: what are your thoughts on Elizabeth Bathory?

liz is in a bit of a weird position here in the west because you could try to connect the dots and read between the lines of her localised appearances to figure out the hidden depths behind the funny seasonal girl, or you could read a fantranslation of CCC and have her deal laid out for you very clearly and i mean very very clearly there's really not much digging you have to do to understand elizabeth from reading CCC

elizabeth in CCC is a young girl who does not understand why the people around her came to hate her, and is terrified of it happening again. her obsession with youth is because she could tell that as she grew older the patience of those around her was wearing thinner, but she didn't understand what it was about her that caused this and in her desperation to cling to the youthful innocence that made them stay their hand in punishing her crimes she just committed more crimes. her desire to be an idol is a direct continuation of this: she is trying to attract a love and adoration that will instantly turn to hatred should she ever fail to adhere to a strict yet arbitrary standard of youthful purity and innocence.

elizabeth is excruciatingly lonely. she was raised to be extremely aware of her noble heritage and the inherent superiority it gives her. she calls people piglets and squirrels because she was literally not taught to see the common people as people rather than livestock. she has some natural violent inclinations that went completely unchecked and combined with her emotional frustrations into a habit of brutally torturing both people she hates and people she likes. she craves emotional connection between equals but has no idea, no example, no internal model of what such a relationship would actually look like, because the only interactions she had in her life were between the countess and her subjects that were completely at her mercy until they weren't.

this is barely even analysis, I'm just repeating things CCC directly tells you here. you can infer pretty much all of this from her secret garden flavour text alone.

her first SG is that she falls in love easily because she only experienced love in storybooks. "What seems to make her heart skip a beat is the strength of heart to firmly look back at her, even while shaking in pain, never giving in no matter how much she strikes or stabs." -> elizabeth craves a relationship of equals, her romantic ideal is someone who will stand up to her.

her second SG is that she enjoys cooking for/taking care of others, but absolutely sucks at actually making food. "She “bestows meals” to her husband as a noble. It’s no different from feeding... raising an animal. It contains none of the “romance” she longs for. The overlord disposition ingrained into her by heredity devours even her modest dreams." -> the way elizabeth was raised to view herself and others leaves her incapable of actually having such a relationship of equals, because her only models for human interaction don't respect the humanity of the other party.

her third SG is purity. "We would like to leave just what constitutes “purity” to the reader’s imagination. Servants are revived in the form that represents golden age of their lives. So Elizabeth appears as an unwed daughter of house Báthory, a young girl in love with love… presumably. An idol must be pure like snow. Romance might be fine, but the moment she comes to know love, her radiance is lost." -> elizabeth deep down is terrified of actually obtaining a relationship of equals, because her arbitrary purity (a purity the text doesn't even try to define! it's completely subjective!) is the only thing standing between her and a hatred of her for which she doesn't understand the cause. once she comes to view other people as people she can no longer claim not to understand the crimes that made those people hate her, and she will lose the purity that protects her from their wrath.

CCC has a lot to say about arbitrary standards of maturity and purity. BB splits off her own "improper" feelings into various oversexed and unstable versions of herself that she can punish for not living up to the impossible standards she imposes on herself. kiara uses her outward appearance of maturity to cover up a complete lack of emotional maturity while hans looks like a child after a lifetime of being seen as immature for writing children's stories (respecting the humanity of children). elizabeth wasn't taught to respect the humanity of others, but where is the line on when she is "old enough to know better"? what could she have done different? what should she have done different?

naturally, CCC for elizabeth is a long and gruelling process of learning that other people are people, and that even if she was simply doing as taught it was still her own actions that made her subjects hate her. this is such a thorough shattering of her worldview that she's briefly a berserker with both mad enhancement and a unique to her mental disorder skill that makes her numb to the pain or mood of others, just to keep herself vaguely functional. when defeated she screams that she prefers death to being locked up again, because what she fears even more than retaliation is having to reflect on the reason for that retaliation.

you will note that elizabeth in all her subsequent appearances is a very earnest and hardworking girl, who puts a lot of effort into maintaining her friendships. she knows what she did wrong now and is determined not to repeat that mistake, determined enough that in extella link karl's oraclisation brainwashing program that instantly got top tier servants like arjuna and scathach was unable to get elizabeth, and karl decides to let her go out of respect for that determination. one of the earliest cross-installment relationships FGO established is that vlad is very protective of elizabeth because he wants to make sure she does in fact get the chance to become a better person than the circumstances of her life allowed her, and even though carmilla has complex feelings about liz because liz's existence as the young and innocent one means carmilla exists as the one who is beyond saving, she can still be dragged into helping liz with her efforts because the redemption liz works for is one they both want.

elizabeth is a very dutiful person. she's desperate to be liked for fear of what will happen to her otherwise, but also has an actual strong sense of responsibility as countess, and her efforts to become someone likeable and dependable are fuelled by both of those aspects. in every halloween event liz is loud and annoying and self-important, and every halloween event she makes honest and difficult efforts to forge and maintain relationships and make up for past and current transgressions. her singing is beautiful when it's for someone else's sake.

elizabeth is actually one of a very small handful of characters from older works who I feel didn't get flanderised in some way by FGO, her characterisation as funny seasonal girl follows naturally from how her arc concluded in CCC and shallow fandom misunderstanding of the funny seasonal girl is more a result of early FGO assuming most players would be fate veterans who would already know her deal from CCC so they could just build on that uninterrupted without needing to give context first. and I also don't think it's wrong for people to base their understanding of liz on the funny seasonal girl because that's still liz, unlike how for example FGO nero is just not representative of nero most of the time. i haven't actually paid much attention to fgo since lb6 by the way and haven't opened NA in months so i don't actually know what happens in cindereli event other than guda turns into a goat monster (based)

[foundfam2754]

S17e6 live reactions!

Spoilers...obviously

i'm kinda nervous to watch this because i saw someone's post on e6 before this on garvez and they weren't happy... let's see because we're def getting pen and luke interaction this ep bc of the whole tyler ex gf thing

i'm like 95% confident that this is a dream...

okay def a dream because luke is hurt

reminds me of that dream spence had close to the end of s15

what a strange song to have emily sing

okay even dream dead emily is sad :( bring her back from the dead pls (again)

yep... dream

poor papa pasta :(

emily singing will haunt me forever

i like how CM can be scary when it wants to be

aw even after 20 years, emily, jj and pen will be my favorite trio

OH MY GOD rossi's really feeling the trauma

wait this is so sad :(

you're not fine, dave. none of you are fine. PG had the right idea leaving the BAUwh

jj what are you getting at????? luke? i kinda wish it was about luke, but i knew it was about emily

beige, wasting time, and bad kissing?? why is that so penelope garcia coded?

god jj just takes care of everyone but herself, mamabear!jj is my fav

Penelope, pls don't be jealous, he's not worth it

how are garvez so normal after last week? at least their friendship is never in question

why is it awkward luke? because you're in love with pen?

okay i don't mind me some greencia banter, but they did NOT date

jfc dave needs a therapist

aww tara's the best man

kinda love the team knows each other so well, they can talk and listen without words. it's kinda beautiful

OH MY GOD i kinda predicted what tara said about "sitting quietly"

you're safe dave, we promise. we all love u

jj don't make it darker i can barely see the show as it is

i love high!emily, man

i will be using emily's chopsticks trick going forward

"delicious but insufferable" is my new catchphrase

"emily elizabeth prentiss"

super hot latino/a is penelope's type too ;)

damn pen's is roasting him and i kinda love it

i like the parallel of garvez interrogating teresa and tyler about the relationship - i know they have different purposes for doing so, but in my opinion still keeps them connected in a way - so i'll take what i can get

tara's right

luke looks so impressed and kinda turned on by pen's hacking primer - i love it; i know it's just adam, not scripted, but i appreciate that kirsten and adam keep us happy and delulu

"new friend"

i just realized this is the ultimate love square (pen, luke, teresa, tyler)

WHY are you talking about the "sticky chemistry"

penelope's a lot mature than she's acting about this, i mean they are all in their 30-40's and should be able to be honest about their FEEELINGS

god I love how much luke hates tyler

chaotic emily is kinda terrifying

"just run through the field and catch all that rye" HAHAH FUCKING LOVE YOU EMILY

emily you know she loves cheetos why would you leave them out

lmao high!jj

oh this is the elevator scene from the trailer where the walls collapse in

this show can be very scary when it wants to be (hasn't been for me in a while because i rewatch and know what's gonna happen)- and I like that they're leaning into it

lol are they hinting that they were both attracted to tyler because they have grief-related trauma and he's a good, desperate short-term solution

oh my god they were not dating

OH MY GOD I LOVE THAT LUKE AND TYLER HATE EACH OTHER

sir, agent alvez sir, need i remind you that only 7 years ago you were also the lone wolf type?

"rattle off a list of your victims you know, besides penelope and teresa" GO OFF LUKE ALVEZ OMG

this is weirdly hot

"ever take matters into your own hands, luke?" is that a thinly-veiled comment about the fact that everyone knows about his feelings but he is yet to do anything about it yet? or am i too much of a garvez shipper and i'm reading garvez into every pen or luke interaction on this show

aw ex bf and boyf bonding!

"who have you pissed off recently?" lol besides you lukey?

why is voit doing sit-ups? man, he is weird

why don't they call him "Lee?" i feel like it would affect him more

62!?

god voit's a good profiler

elias has strong daddy issues and i think he needs dave's approval

what is he repressing? krystall?

oh my god voit's such a good villain

yeah man, don't date tyler if you don't want your trust violated or safety threateneed

oh my god are jj and em gonna fight?

no don't tease a relationship between teresa and luke please i can't

OMG, we finally got a GARVEZ confession!!!

"she knows i love her" luke you're breaking my heart, he sounded so sad :(

but also --- does she know? y'all never said it... and she needs the words said to her. she's not great with subtext, luke

i love that teresa's not letting him excuse his feelings or his inaction

GOD NO DO NOT DATE EACH OTHER I CAN'T TAKE LUKE DATING SOMEONE ELSE RIGHT NOW PLS

no elias, you ARE a fan boy

"honestly" "trust me" those words don't mean anything coming from you elias

god guys you're so much smarter than him, please stop trusting him PLEASE

"this was fun, dave!" god elias just likes fucking with them

yay!! tyler character development

i simultaneously love and hate this tyler / luke bromance

"we are stronger than anyone gives us credit for" YES SO TRUE I LOVE THESE TWO WITH ALL MY HEART

"it gives me you" aw, jemily fans are gonna lose their mind aren't they, but also they're my fav bff duo

"let's fucking go" LOVE YOU EMILY SO HARD

wtf teresa; oh my god this love square is going to kill me

"north star is us, the BAU" DAMN that's powerful

[cottoncandy-cult]

Gentle Touches

Meliodas x chubby! reader

Meliodas sighed as he entered his bedroom in just his pants, he had just finished his bath and was ready for bed. He smiled towards the comfy piece of furniture as he entered, that smile broadening when he spotted the lump under the covers. (Y/n) had come up to the room an hour before him, she had been quite tired after how busy the day had been, and he didn't blame her. She always worked hard and today they had more customers than any of their previous stops, because of that after they closed most of them hung around near the bar for a drink or two. The blonde male made his silent approach, a small candle dimly burned on his side of the bed and lit up the small area. Giving him enough light to see his sleeping lovers face, he adored the woman more than anything else in this world. He moved to sit beside her, reaching out to gently stroke her plump cheek and brush some of her silken (H/c) hair away. It had been almost a year since they started dating, the two were a bit of an odd pair given their different heights and frames. He was smaller and leaner while she was taller and pleasantly chubby, he loved that about her. He'd certainly love her no matter her form, but he thought she was beautiful as she was.

His movements were slow and deliberate as he slid under the cover, he was careful when snuggling up to her but even in her deep sleep she recognized his presence. Her body curled towards him a little, a soft hum escaping the sleeping girl. Meliodas chuckled softly as he wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling the top of (Y/n)'s head as he gently rubbed her back. His fingers grazed over a couple deep scars, making him hold her closer as a colder look filled his eyes. When they had first met the girl had been living in a disgusting town, the town and a majority of its people were cruel and selfish and only cared about physical appearance. (Y/n) was one of a handful of good people being treated like dirt, it wasn't even as if she eats a lot but that it was just her more natural body. He thought she was beautiful, but he watched others insult and harass her, it was when things got physical, and she got thrown across a rocky hill side that he decided to put his foot down. They were near a slate like mountain so most the natural stones were quite hard and sharp, it was one reason boats were incredibly careful near its coast.

Meliodas hadn't been the only one to witness what had happened, Elizabeth had been quick to rush to the girl's side and that was enough to make the others move. They brought the girl into the boar's hat and tended to her injuries, every time he saw or touched these scars, he felt his anger bubble up. She was too sweet of a girl to deserve such harsh treatment. His movements came to a stop when he heard her groan, his fingers stopping where they were as she shifted. "Meli, you're squishing me..." Her sleepy voice made him realize he had been holding her tight to his chest, so he loosened his grip and watched her lean back a little to look up at him. Having just woke and still being tired her (E/c) eyes were a bit bloodshot and glossy; she gave him a lazy smile. "I keep telling you not to touch them if it's gonna upset you..." Her voice was a bit raspy and low, but he still smiled when hearing her speak to him. "I'm not upset, I just don't understand how so many people can be so ugly that they make excuses to hurt an angel..."

His voice was soft and smooth as he leaned his forehead against hers, gently rubbing his nose against her own as a deep crimson covered her cheeks. Her body pressed close to his as her own arms curled around his waist, one of her legs slipping between his own as they tangled themselves together. "None of that matters now, I'm here with you and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." She leaned forward to steal a kiss from him, something he quickly reciprocated. The kiss was sweet and warm, both parties smiling lovingly as they'd break apart just to reconnect over and over before they settled against the pillows together. As the candlelight began to fade out the two had begun to fall asleep, comfortable within each other's arms.

[chelleztjs18]

Stars (E.O)

Fem!Reader x Elizabeth Olsen

Summary: Lizzie has to attend a party and you know your girlfriend very well so you plan a relaxing surprise to help her with anxiety.

Warnings: None. Just bunch of fluff here and there. lol

A/n: Hello! I'm back. Happy Valentine's day peeps! I'm here with a new fic of my favorite genre, fluff! This fic is for my Curious George anon. Thank you for helping me brainstorming on this one, darling! I feel a little rusty with my writing but Happy reading y'all! I hope you enjoy this.

Also, here is the song I mentioned in this fic:

Main Masterlist

The soft white light shines the room perfectly. Calming sophisticated tunes float around the venue of the party you and Lizzie are at.

The clock shows that both of you have been attending the party for over two hours then you look at your girlfriend again. Bunch of friends and colleagues have come up to both of you to catch up and have some small talks. Her smile and laughter really warm your heart but you know how she really feels because of her social anxiety. You saw her keep playing with her ring whenever she is talking with somebody.

You knew this would happen, no matter how well she handles it. You know that Lizzie always gets nervous every time she has to be in a social event with a lot of interactions but she couldn't miss this party so here you are with her now with a surprise you have planned for her.

As soon as Rachel Weisz and Rachel McAdams finally get distracted from talking to Lizzie by other Marvel casts, you gently pull her away a little to talk to her.

"Love, come with me. I have something to show you.” You whispered and took her hand.

“Okay. Where are we going? What is it, babe?” Her eyebrows furrowed as she asked curiously in a whisper.

Her soft hand grips yours tighter as her steps follow yours to the valet service in the front of the party venue.

"Babe, why are we leaving the party? Wait, is that your truck? Why is it here?" The blonde looks puzzled as soon as she sees the valet clerk drives your car and pulls in front of both of you. “It’s a surprise. Now, shall we go, my lady” You smile lovingly at her question and proceed to open the door for her as your hand gestures the way for her to get in.

Flustered and with blushing cheeks, she smiles. “Wow, you are really full of surprises, aren’t you Y/n Y/l/n?” She finally gets into your truck. “Yes, I am.” You wink and you close the door.

On the way to where your surprise is at, Lizzie gives quite some effort to find out what you've been planning or simply how or who helped you with this but you are adamant not to say any of it and always try to talk about something else.

You can't lie, you are nervous yet excited at the same time when you have arrived at the desert.

Lizzie looks around outside then looks up to your truck's sun roof and instantly holds your hand. "Hmm so quiet here and look at all those stars babe! This is really nice! Thank you for the surprise, y/n." She exclaims and leans to kiss you cheek.

You chuckles. "Lizzie darling, you don't think that we would just sit here to watch the night sky, right?"

Once again, she looks puzzled. "Isn't this the surprise you meant?"

Your thumb rubs the back of her hand. "Well, part of it. I know your anxiety would come because of this big party so I planned this so you can calm down and relax from everything. I asked Aubrey to drive this truck so we could switch rides. So here you go, get comfy and put this on. I'll wait for you outside. No peeking." You take your turn and give her lips a quick kiss shortly after you hand her a pair of sweaters and sweatpants you prepared. She takes them off your hand happily.

You are preparing everything while she is changing. "Ready, Liz?" You asked.

"Yeah, can I see it now?" She asks. Anticipation is killing her by now.

You scurry to the passenger side. "Close your eyes, sweetheart." She follows what you ask her as you lead her way to the back of your truck.

"Okay. You can open your eyes now."

A gasp flew out of her as soon as her eyes adjusted with the view in front of her. Fairy lights around the frame of your truck. Two pillows lay perfectly on a mattress that is covered by a warm thick blanket. Lizzie sees a tray of cheese and fruit plate with some small pieces of her favorite sandwiches complete with a bottle of sparkling cider and two glasses.

"Are those…" she asks but you finish her question. "Your favorite sandwich and sparkling cider? Yes." You smile with your hands rubbing the side of her arms.

She turns to you in a split second, hugging you and giving you a longer peck of kiss. "Thank you baby! This is beautiful!" Excitement sounds clear in her tone and oh that smile of hers is priceless.

"Anything for you. Now let's enjoy your surprise and watch the stars." You pick her up to get on the back of your truck and take a seat on the soft mattress. Silence spreads wide in your surroundings, a cold breeze brushes over the skin but is defeated by the blanket over both of you. Two of you share food and drink together while talking about anything, joking around with each other and sharing some laughs as well.

Warmth spreads inside her and joy rapidly bubbles in your heart. You look at the woman you love next to you and every second you fall in love all over again with her.

She leans to you and lays her head on your shoulder as soon as you extend your arms for a hug. You wrap your arms around her, feeling her snuggle up as close as she can. Your hand runs slowly on the side of her arms and then enjoys the view of the sky full of stars together for another good half hours in a very comfortable silence. Letting the lovely intimate and romantic ambience soaked in between you and your girlfriend. You give a short gentle kiss on the crown of her head.

"Liz, do you remember when we talked about an old radio I had when I was younger?" Your question breaks the silence.

"The one that you always use to record a list of songs with it?" She answers you with a question with a very relaxed tone.

"Yes and guess what? I found one online and I got you something." Your arm unwraps her body and you pull out an old radio tape of a box 

"Another surprise?" She asked in such a thrill followed by an ear to ear smile.

You laughed. "Yes. Here you go." You shook your head a little at her antics and handed her a cassette tape.

"Our Soundtracks." Lizzie mumbles the title of the cassette and it definitely lures even a bigger smile and happiness bloomed inside her. Her eyes avert to the nice rows of song titles that you wrote on the cover. They are all meaningful songs for you and Lizzie throughout 2 years of relationship.

"You made me this?" She asks and gets a nod and a smile from you as an answer.

Her brain shortly ordered her green eyes to search for one particular song and she gasps softly. Her eyes look at you in awe. "Aaw you put Noah Gundersen's acoustic version of Yellow in it!"

Her excitement makes you laugh. "Of course..it's our favorite song. Let me play it." She lets you take the cassette and plays it. The soft romantic song starts to play and all of a sudden Lizzie brings herself off the truck. While your mind trying to figure out what she is doing, she extended her hand. Without a question your hand takes hers.

“This song always makes me want to slow dance with you.” She says as she pulls you closer to her and both of you start to sway slowly.

"You know that I can't dance, right?"

"Oh sweetie, I know you can." Her smile brightens up the dark desert around you and your heart.

"Hey now, you are the one who always does the happy dance, not me." You tease and then you raise her hand to spin her slowly. She giggles as soon as she's back in your arms after the spin.

The more you both dance, the more you and Lizzie sink in such intimate moments. Your heart feels light and she feels drunk in happiness. You can hear her take a relaxed deep breath.

“Thank you for all this, babe. You are the best! The whole package and I’m so lucky to have you.” She expressed then hugged you a little tighter.

You laugh nervously and you are relieved that she doesn’t see your blushing cheeks. “Oh, quit it, love. I was just doing my best pampering you because you deserve it.” You rub her back so gently.

She looks up to you in adoration. “And I was just telling you the truth.” She completed her compliment with a small gentle kiss then she smiled on your lips.

In mid slow dancing and enjoying the delightful sky, you heard her exclaim “Y/n, a shooting star! Quick! Make a wish.” She points and immediately closes her eyes. You find it very cute to see her smile while she quietly makes her wish.

She opens her gorgeous eyes, you could’ve swear that your heart skipped a bit just now when you see her green eyes that you adore with all the love you have for her. It always happens no matter how many times you see them, you are even sometimes stunned by her beauty and forget how to breathe. She smiles at you. “Did you make a wish?” She asks in a blissful tone.

“Oh uh no I didn't. I was looking at how excited you were, it made me happy and I forgot to make a wish. What wish did you make?” you chuckle.

“Nope, I’m not gonna tell you about it.”

You cackle once more and let out your curiosity about her answer. "Why?"

"Because… what if it's not gonna happen if I tell anyone about it?" She quickly gives you her reason.

"Ah okay okay. Well, tell me when it comes true please." You request as you spin her one more time.

"Oh yeah, for sure.. You'll know it."

With that you and Lizzie spend a little more time enjoying the night.

______

The night’s sky is clear, fairy lights shine in your surroundings. You feel her soft hand holding yours and the other on your shoulder as you wrap your right hand wraps her waist. Both of you sway around together with the same song you played that night at the desert is playing softly.

Everybody is quiet and drinking the view in awe, watching you and Lizzie cherish each other. You admire every single feature of her face. Her eyes twinkle and they are prettier than any stars you’ve seen in the sky. Her cute nose whenever she scrunches it always makes you laugh. Her ravishing smile makes her as pretty as a picture. You are hypnotized by her look in an all white wedding dress, doing the first dance together.

“Babe, remember that night I made a wish when we saw a shooting star in the desert?” She asks softly with an elation.

“Yes? What about it?”

“This was it. I made a wish that someday we will get married and grow old together.” Your wife revealed, looking up to you with heart eyes.

“Aww, that was really cute but you know what? Make a wish or not, I would still marry you. I knew you were the one since the first time we met.”

“You are so adorable. I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too.” You sealed her lips with a loving kiss.

A/n: Welp, that's it for today. Let me know what you think. Reblog and comment are highly appreciated. Follow me for more. See you in next!

Cheerio!

A/n: @madamevirgo @musicinourlips @unstable-sapphic-hoe @fanboy7794 @chloe7076 @b0mbdotc0m @trikruismybitch @ichala @californianwhiterabbit @honey-sweet-hiraeth @imfuckinggenius @sxfwap @chaekhan @daenerys713 @luvmcgrath @stupidsapphicsstuff @pattypavo @frvny @franfineashell @heyyoweveryone @ygtft-chen @yaaskasey @sweeet-likeeee-cinnamonn @paumxmff @dopeyouth @beaniejennie @ineedafinghug @idkwhatimwriting @lucydiibi @mainly-rebloging-fics-i-like @gloriousfoxruins @grxvitye @mcubreakdown101 @aos22 @wandanatstan @paulawand @yeeterthekeeper @femalehomosexual666 @snowdrop1026 @modernmonalisa @nothingisrealanyway @idamaemann @sweeterlust @royalityofmultifandom @playboysaleen @peabrain112 @gwhaley127 @harleyswanda @bodhi-j @darth-rainbow @cristin-rjd , 

[solo6677]

Heartbreaker. From lawyer to biker.

In the cold, unforgiving world of criminal justice, where the line between right and wrong is often blurred, there stands a beacon of hope and justice. Elizabeth Hart, a young and ambitious Assistant District Attorney, has built a reputation as a formidable force against crime. With her sharp intellect, unyielding determination, and unwavering moral compass, she has put away countless criminals, earning herself the nickname Heartbreaker for her ability to shatter the hopes of those who dare to cross her path.

But who is Elizabeth Hart, really? Beneath her stern exterior and no-nonsense attitude lies a complex and multifaceted woman. She is a daughter, a sister, and a friend, but above all, she is a warrior for justice. Driven by a deep-seated need to make the world a better place, Elizabeth has dedicated her life to the pursuit of justice, often at great personal cost.

As Elizabeth prepares to take on her next case, she can't help but wonder if she's truly making a difference. With each victory, she sees new crimes committed, new criminals emerging, and new victims suffering. The weight of her responsibilities bears down on her, and she can't help but feel that she's fighting a losing battle.

But Elizabeth Hart is not one to back down from a challenge. She is determined to continue her fight for justice, no matter the cost. And so, she asks herself, What more can I do to protect the innocent and bring the guilty to justice? The answer will lead her down a dangerous path, where she will face her greatest challenge yet and discover that the line between right and wrong is not always as clear as it seems.

She was very instrumental in helping put away some of the biggest mobsters in town, even becoming known as Heartbreaker, just because she would break the hearts of her enemies by putting them away.

Of course, none of this sat well with Gina Calabrese, who had been hearing about her for years now. She knew Elizabeth had put her father away, and that made her want to seek revenge.

When she learned Elizabeth was coming to her territory to prosecute another case, she decided to try and get rid of her once and for all. She gathered her best henchmen and told them what to do. The “Heartbreaker” was going to see life in a different way.

Elizabeth Hart walked out of the courthouse after a long day of work, she never suspected that her life was about to take a dramatic and dangerous turn. She was ambushed by members of the notorious mob, who had been watching her every move. They overpowered her, drugged her, and took her to a seedy biker bar on the outskirts of town.

When Elizabeth woke up, she found herself in a world that was completely foreign to her. She was surrounded by biker women, who exuded an aura of danger and lawlessness. They made her a drink, which they forced down her throat and before she knew it, she was feeling the effects of the drugs that had been slipped into her drink.

Over the next few days, Elizabeth was subjected to a series of hypnosis sessions and given a special concoction that slowly began to change her from the good-hearted Assistant District Attorney to a seductive, law-breaking biker. They gave her a new name, Lizzy, and taught her how to ride a motorcycle, how to fight, and how to use her sexuality as a weapon.

As the transformation took hold, Lizzy became a different person. She was no longer the straight-laced, no-nonsense prosecutor; she was now a sexy, rebellious biker who wanted nothing more than to break the law and live life on the edge. She had sex with any woman biker and she drank and partied like there was no tomorrow.

Lizzy got tattoos, piercings, and even changed her hair and clothing style to fit her new identity. She was unrecognizable to those who knew her before, and she reveled in her newfound freedom and power.

But as she lost herself in her new lifestyle, she also gained something she never expected: love. Her mentor, Scarlet, introduced her to the pleasures of lesbian sex, and the two of them became inseparable.

One day, Lizzy stumbled upon a file that contained all of the details of her transformation. She read through it in shock and horror, realizing that she had been drugged, hypnotized, and brainwashed into becoming someone else. She was not a biker by choice; she had been turned into one against her will.

But by then, it was too late. Lizzy was a biker through and through, and she could not imagine going back to the life she had before. She left her past behind and embraced her new identity with open arms.

After a few heists, Lizzy and Scarlett were ready to start their lives together as the leaders of a new biker gang. Lizzy even went back and made sure she got the same concoction that turned her into a biker bitch and brought some of her old friends from the law enforcement into it.

From that moment on, she was a true daughter of the road, living each day as if it was her last. For the first time, she felt truly alive, and she wouldn't have it any other way. She refused to let anybody get in her way, and her and her biker group, known as the Heartbreakers, would cause terror in the town for years to come.

[natequarter]

you wonder why the scots were so unstable, then you look at their monarchy and realise they had seven child monarchs in a row. oh your king's a twelve-year-old? that sucks. what, he's been assassinated? huh! good thing his heir-- HE'S SIX? good thing he isn't going to die a ridiculous death like getting blown up by a cannon any time soon! BUT NOT FOR LONG! what, he was actually blown up by a cannon? wow. anyway, we're leaving the throne in the capable hands of a nine-year-old. that won't go wrong! OR SO WE THOUGHT! well, at least it wasn't a cannon that took him out this time, just a little bit of rebellion and war. and we're leaving the throne in the capable hands of a competent and popular ruler.

BUT NOT FOR LONG! this idiot gets absolutely wrecked at the hands of the english. and by wrecked, i mean killed. great news for henry viii, terrible news for little one-year-old jamie (his nephew, i should point out), a.k.a. your highness, and fifth in a long line of idiots called james. (you'd think they'd learn to pick another name.) things work out eventually, right up until henry viii's lot come back onto the scene and get into a bunch of fights with the scots. unbelievably, things are about to get so much worse. in a real smart move, james dies at the grand old age of thirty. (i feel the need to point out that none of these jameses lived past the age of forty-two. and that's being generous.)

enter mary. she's catholic! she's not called james! she's the queen of scotland! and guess how old she is? six days! yes, you heard that right - six days. (and you thought six years was bad.) she's eventually whisked away to live in france and later marry the dauphin, handily solving the problem of the english trying to kidnap her and marry her off to edward vi. (she's five at this point. edward is ten. françois, the dauphin, is three. don't think too hard about any of that.)

they grow up. edward dies at fifteen. mary i, best known for her fondness for barbecues, dies five years later. françois, sensing a trend, dies two years after that at sixteen. mary returns to scotland, and all is well.

OR SO WE THOUGHT! whilst england was busy being torn apart by religious matters, scotland was busy being torn apart by religious matters. (you'll never guess what's happening in france.) mary, of course, is a devout catholic. some of the scots, who have spent twelve years without a monarch, let alone a catholic girl raised in france, are... not. rebellions! political instability! back to the status quo, basically. john knox is not happy, but when is he ever? elizabeth i kindly tries to help things by sending her bestie robert dudley (yes, that robert) to marry mary. this, unsurprisingly, does not go down well. fortunately, mary solves all these problems by creating a new one: she marries her half-cousin, henry lord darnley! yuck! i mean, yay! more rebellion (led by mary's half-brother)! henry turns on mary because he wants more power! he allies with the protestant lords, and they stab mary's private secretary to death in front of her whilst she's pregnant! the usual.

BUT NOT FOR LONG! mary and henry escape, they have a lovely little son called james (they still hadn't learn their lesson about scottish jameses), and they all live happily ever after until henry's house is blown up and he's found smothered outside in broad daylight. suspects include: everyone in scotland. but mostly lord bothwell, who proceeds to kidnap mary and marry her. now, you may struggle to believe this, but things go downhill from here. mary is eventually forced to abdicate, and flees to england. bothwell is imprisoned in denmark, and later goes insane. as for james, now the one-year-old james vi (anyone sensing a pattern here?), well, he's probably too busy learning to speak to care. because, you know, he's one. some people never learn.

from this point onwards, mary's kept under house arrest by elizabeth i. in a display of gratitude towards elizabeth, mary promptly spends the rest of her life plotting against her. or being involved in plots. in the meantime, james's regent, also called james stewart (mary's aforementioned half-brother; the name is cursed), earns the dubious honour of being the first head of government to be assassinated with a firearm. eventually, after mary, that virtuous angel, actively tries to kill elizabeth, elizabeth gets fed up and drops a sword on mary's neck. james, who last saw his mother at the age of zero years old, must have been devastated.

you all know what happened next: elizabeth died at the grand old age of sixty-nine, and james inherited the throne. thus followed decades of religious instability, parliamentary infighting, and stubborn monarchs who refused to listen to reason, which were surely new to the elizabethans. james, who was what is commonly known these days as a "hot mess" or "bisexual disaster" - don't quote me on that - was nearly blown up in a plot masterminded by a guy called tosser. sorry, i mean a tosser called guy. he also pissed everyone off by being a bit too buddy-buddy with several men, possibly lovers. (probably lovers.) that was not the end of the curse of james stewart (see: james ii of england), but it did at least put an end to mary queen of scots. oh, and england and scotland were united. that too. cue much chaos with a man you've probably heard of, named oliver cromwell... the rest is history. i mean, all of this is history, but you know what i mean.

and that's the story of why having seven child monarchs in a row is a really fucking bad idea!

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Rumours (Kerry Weaver x f!Reader)

Synopsis: There's a very annoying rumour going around County

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: none

AN: I've been watching ER recently and this was an idea I just had to get out.

“So?”

You looked up from your paperwork, the fries in your hand suspended halfway between the plate and your mouth. Abby had slid into the chair across from you and was looking at you expectantly.

“So…?” you asked.

“You and Weaver,” she prompted.

“Me and Weaver what?” you asked.

“You went out with her last night, right?” she asked, stealing some of the fries from your plate.

“We clocked off at the same time and happened to both want dinner so we went to MacGoo’s, yes,” you replied, “nothing as salacious as you’re implying.”

She squinted at you and you waited. You didn’t have the answers she wanted and even if you did, you weren’t going to give them to her. Kerry, at the very least, wouldn’t appreciate it if you did. 

“But you’re close with her,” she said, stealing more of your fries.

You smacked her hand, shoving the last few into your own mouth. 

“We’re friends. If you want to continue asking about our relationship, maybe ask Kerry about it,” you said, standing from your seat, “I’m sure she’d love to give you some answers.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, following you as you began to make your way back to emergency, “what’s going on with you two?”

“I just told you. We’re friends,” you said, closing the file with a snap. 

“Fine, be like that,” Abby said, peeling away from you. 

You ignored it, continuing on, having more work than time and no reason to consider that it was going to be anything more than that quick conversation. No one else would be asking about you and Kerry. 

“So you and Weaver, huh?” Lydia asked as you checked over an injured ankle. 

“We happened to have dinner at the same table. Do all the nurses think it was a date?” you asked.

“Not in so many words,” she replied.

“Then you can spread the word that it wasn't anything more than two friends eating at the end of their shifts,” you said.

Hopefully that would nip it in the bud.

“I hear you’ve tamed the beast,” Jerry said as you were typing something into the computer at the counter. 

“I’ve done what now?” you asked, only half listening.

“You and Weaver,” he said.

You let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. A headache was building and you were beginning to think this rumour was getting out of control. When you looked at him he was grinning at you.

“Are friends,” you said.

“You’re the only one she doesn’t argue with. And she lets you tell her when she’s being too hard on everyone. Your opinion matters to her,” he said.

“Because we’re friends,” you replied.

“You make her laugh,” he said.

“I’m sad for your friends if you can’t make them laugh,” you said, “seriously, what is with everyone today?”

“We thought maybe you’d stopped pining for each other and had finally given in last night,” he said.

“Pining?” 

You didn’t get an answer from him as you were rushed into Trauma 1. 

Taking a five minute break to down some coffee, you stood in the break room, watching it brew. It had been a busy day and you still had another few hours to go. Taking your first sip, you let out a contented sigh.

“Weaver in here?” 

You turned, shaking your head.

“Not unless she’s hiding in the fridge,” you said.

Elizabeth closed the door with a long breath, shutting the ER out on the other side.

“Good,” she said.

“Just brewed some coffee if you need some,” you said, sinking down onto the couch.

“Oh thank god,” she said.

She waited until she was sitting with her own cup before asking.

“I heard about you and Kerry,” she said.

“Yeah, there’s a real case of that going around,” you muttered.

“Oooh, trouble in paradise?” she asked.

“The rumour mill seems to enjoy misinformation today,” you said, “there is nothing going on with me and Kerry.”

“That’s not what I heard,” she said, “and you know I’m hardly her biggest fan but it’s about time you did something about that.”

“About what?” you asked.

“You know.” She was smiling at you like you were both in on the joke.

“I really don’t,” you said.

“Oh come on,” she laughed, “neither of you are very subtle about it.”

“About what?” you asked again.

“The fact you’re both obviously smitten with each other,” she said.

You stared at her, waiting for her to break out in laughter again and tell you she was kidding. She looked back, waiting as well. When nothing happened a look of confusion passed over her face.

“You did know, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Kerry and I are friends,” you replied, “that’s it.”

“With all those lingering looks and shared smiles? I think there might be something more there,” she said, leaning towards you. 

“There is nothing more there,” you groused, voice hardening, “so you can tell everyone to keep their noses out of our business.”

You left her there, taking your coffee back out onto the ward. Glaring, you strode away, needing a moment.

“Hey, you okay?” Kerry asked, falling into step beside you.

“You’d think with all the work we have to do there wouldn’t be time for talking,” you said, “but that would be too much to ask for.”

“People have been whispering,” she said.

“You’ve noticed it too, huh?” She gave you that look, the penetrating one that let you know nothing went unnoticed by her, “anyone said anything to you?”

“Not a word,” she replied.

“Of course not,” you muttered.

“Anything I should know about?” she asked.

“No, just a passing flight of fancy,” you replied, “I’m going for a smoke break.”

“You don’t smoke,” she said.

“Maybe I’m trying to start,” you said, pushing outside.

You took a moment, leaning against the wall as you tried to ignore what Elizabeth had said. And the implications from Jerry. And the rumour going around the entire ER. 

Only were they so wrong? Sure, Kerry was one of the few people who made getting through your 12 hour shifts bearable. And okay, did your heart flutter every time you saw her? Yeah, but that didn’t mean anything other than you liked seeing her. And okay, sure, you’d had a few dreams about her but that never meant much. 

You slumped against the wall. Who were you kidding? You’d been falling in love with Kerry Weaver from the moment you’d met her. Hard headed and stubborn, passionate and brilliant, beautiful beyonds words, how could you not? The worst part was everyone else had figured it out when you’d been doing your best to keep it hidden. Especially from Kerry. 

You were such a fuck up.

“Your five minutes are up.”

Kerry did not sound pleased with you.

“Sure,” you said, pushing off the wall.

“This rumour thing is really getting to you, huh,” she said, hand on your arm keeping you from moving past her.

“They’re talking about us,” you told her, not sure it was worth hiding it anymore.

“Oh.” She didn’t sound surprised.

“You don’t care?” you asked.

“You grow used to being the one everyone is talking about,” she said, “so why do you care?”

“Do you know what Elizabeth Courday said?” you asked her, not waiting for an answer, “that we’re smitten with each other. And Jerry said we were pining after one another.”

“And you're listening to Jerry now?” she asked.

“Not for anything good.”

“Don’t listen to the gossip. It’ll make your life easier,” she said.

You passed her your half drunk cup of coffee and moved past her, ignoring the way she drained it before following you. You flung yourself into work, pushing thoughts of Kerry to the side, not needing to deal with it, not wanting to deal with it.

“What time are you off?” Kerry asked, stopping you in the hall a little while later.

“Seven,” you replied.

“Dinner?”

“Sure.”

Someone shoved at Kerry’s shoulder as they ran past. Your arm curled around her waist, steadying her.

“Hey,” you shouted at the retreating back.

You looked back to Kerry, only then realising how close she was, her body practically pressed into yours. 

“You okay?” you asked, trying to ignore the way her curves felt against you.

“Fine, fine,” she said, but you noticed she wasn’t trying to get out of your hold.

It wasn’t until Abby walked past, raising her eyebrows at you, that you let her go. Not that she seemed in a hurry to be released. And you missed the feeling more than you felt comfortable with. 

Forcing yourself through the rest of the day, the thought of dinner with Kerry was the only thing making it bearable. Which was probably something you should investigate but you didn’t want to. It would only make the whole thing worse. 

Grabbing your bag from your locker, you let your hair down and ran your fingers through it. A wolf whistle had you rolling your eyes.

“Getting all pretty for your girl?” 

“Malik, I swear to god,” you said, turning to look at him.

“Word is she’s taking you out again tonight. Getting pretty serious,” he said.

“This place,” you said, “we’re just friends.”

“If my friends looked at me the way she looks at you, my life would be a lot more fun,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Just that she looks at you like she wants to sink her teeth into ya,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I think if she hears you talking like that she’ll want to take a bite out of you,” you snapped. 

“Ready?” Kerry asked, pushing open the door.

“Yeah,” you said, ignoring the look Malik was giving you.

“Have fun, you two,” Randi called after the two of you.

“So it didn’t get any better, huh?” she asked.

“Turns out talking in the hallway is the same as taking out a billboard when it comes to news around here,” you said. 

“Our dinner plans are news?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t think so but given how it’s spiralled into the story of the day…”

“Is it really that bad?” she asked.

“Five separate people have talked to me about it,” you said, “no matter how many times I told them we were just friends.”

“Then you did all you could,” she said, “should be done by tomorrow.”

You were certain that wasn’t true. 

“Magoos?” you asked.

“Nah, I got some chicken I need to cook tonight,” she said, “did you drive in?”

“No. Took the L like usual,” you replied.

“Come on then.”

You followed her to her car, mind still on the day you’d had. She turned the radio up, giving you the space to think without interruption. You stared out the window, able to see her face in the reflection if you looked extra hard.

Which was something you found yourself doing a lot over the last few months. Staring at her, watching her, trying not to be a creep but finding it difficult to look away. No wonder everyone in the ER had picked up on your feelings. You’d been pining. You were smitten. And everyone knew it. 

“You’re being very quiet,” Kerry said after you’d been let into her home.

“Long day,” you replied.

“Because of the gossip?” she asked.

You hummed in agreement as you fell onto her couch. She looked down at you for a moment before lowering herself beside you.

“You have to let it go in one ear and out the other,” she said, “you won’t survive long at County if you don’t.”

“It’s easier when it’s something ridiculous,” you replied.

“And this isn’t?” she asked.

You looked at her, really looked at her, and thought that maybe she was the only one who didn’t know. That you’d succeeded in keeping it hidden from her. You let out a long breath, laughing at the end as you fell back. You stared up at the ceiling, wondering how you’d gotten to this point, still laughing. 

“Am I missing the joke?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you said, “yeah, I think you are.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

You rolled your head towards her, finding her watching you with a twinkle in her eye and a small smile on her face. It made your heart skip a beat.

“I think if I do, I’ll ruin everything,” you said.

Her eyebrows drew together and the smile dimmed just a bit before her gaze dropped. You looked back up to the ceiling, letting out another long breath.

“Maybe I should go,” you said.

“No, don’t.”

A warm hand was placed on your cheek, turning your head back towards her. She was looking at you, features soft, lips parted, eyes smouldering. And then she was leaning in and her lips were brushing against yours and you were certain your heart had stopped. 

She drew away, looking unsure when your eyes fluttered open. 

“Sorry, I-”

With both hands on her cheeks, you pulled her in, crushing your lips to hers, cutting off whatever she was about to say. The little noise of surprise she made was gratifying, especially when it turned into a whimper. She pressed closer, her fingers finding a home in your hair as you kissed her deeper. You found yourself being pinned against her couch cushions, her tongue in your mouth, kissing you like you were the air she breathed and she was drowning. 

You drew back, eyes scanning over her face. Her skin was flushed, her lips kiss stung, her eyes bright. She kissed you again, humming when you kissed her back. You broke away, laughing, pressing your forehead to hers. 

“Not so ridiculous after all,” she murmured. 

“So I don’t need to let you in on the joke?” you asked.

“I think I’ve figured it out,” she replied.

When she kissed you again, it was softer, sweeter and you didn’t get the chance to kiss her back before her lips were trailing down your throat, open mouthed kisses pressed to your skin. You lent your head back, giving her more room, your hands slowly trailing down her spine.

“Kerry,” you sighed.

Her tongue flicked over your skin and you groaned. You felt when she smiled before her teeth nipped at you. The laugh that tumbled over your lips was surprising. She sat back, looking disgruntled.

“That wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for,” she said.

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” you said, “it’s something Malik said.”

“Oh yeah? What’d he say?” 

“Just that you look at me like you want to sink your teeth into me,” you said.

Her fingers pushed some of your hair behind your ear and she softened before your eyes.

“I suppose there might be some evidence for his observation,” she conceded.

“What about Jerry’s observation about pining?” you asked, leaning into her touch.

“I’m not sure I’d use that word,” she said.

“How about smitten?” 

She gave you an indulgent smile, thumb running over your cheekbone. 

“I suppose I could be amenable to that term,” she said.

“Elizabeth will be so happy,” you said.

“Never mind then .”

You laughed, leaning into her, kissing her again, long and slow, taking your time. She melted against you and you thought you could do this forever. You could stay in this moment with her and never grow tired of it. 

It took a while for the two of you to get to dinner and you never ended up going home. 

“Saw you left with Weaver last night,” Abby said, finding you in the lounge the next morning. 

“And?” you asked.

“Twice in a row,” she said.

“Just ask what you want to ask,” you demanded.

“That hickey from her?” she asked.

Your hand slapped to your neck and her laugh was delighted. Looking in the mirror, there was no hickey there. Just bare skin, clean of any mark, and a joyful Abby behind you.

“Just friends my ass,” Abby cackled before leaving.

The rumour mill was not going to get better any time soon.

[simpforpeterp]

Lucifer Morningstar x OC

Just Like Heaven

summary: In the aftermath of a new accord between Heaven and Hell, Lucifer Morningstar finds himself pulled back into the past by the unexpected reappearance of an old flame from the beginning of time. In a big mess of concerts, big parties, and buried emotions, how could the King of Hell get her to not hate him?

warnings: none other than the usual hazbin stuff

word count: 3.16k

  After the battles had been won, the deals settled, Heaven and Hell had reached an agreement. Sinners can now be redeemed to Heaven. And with that, residents of Heaven are allowed to visit Hell. Most do not but there's a surprising amount that do. Especially now that Hell is coming up.

Seeing that they can get to Heaven makes a lot of sinners want to be better. But first, it's time to party. Hell has seen an economic boom with the economy having grown by 42% and everyone's looking for a good time. Everything is getting bigger and better which causes more problems for their King.

Although all of that sounds great, and it is, it also means he has to start working again. Hell is still shitty but cities expanded rapidly, spurred by a sudden baby boom among Hellborn citizens. He's been drowning in paperwork and appearances and bullshit that doesn't matter.

A lot more concerts have been happening. Music is big in Heaven so a few brave artists expand their tours to Hell in the very new arenas and stadiums in each ring. When Charlie begged Lucifer to get her and her girlfriend into the sold-out show tonight in their box, he agreed. Except he decided she deserved better than that and brought her straight to the floor.

The air in the brand-new VoxTek stadium is electric. Lights flash, music pulses, and the crowd buzzes with anticipation. Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell, stood amongst the throngs of demons, feeling out of place in his own realm. He had been reluctant to come, but Charlie insisted.

"You need a break, Dad," Charlie turns to him with a smile as security guards surround them. "This will be good for you. And me, I desperately need a break from all the new guests at the hotel."

"Yeah, they are pretty exhausting," Vaggie adds.

"Sinners suck." He whispers with a wide grin.

Despite his initial reluctance, Lucifer finds himself intrigued by the atmosphere in the stadium. The VoxTek Stadium, with its state-of-the-art design and acoustics that reverberate throughout Hell's depths, is a testament to the newfound cultural renaissance gripping the underworld.

As they make their way closer to the stage, Lucifer can't help but notice the vibrant mix of demons, angels, and redeemed sinners, all eagerly awaiting the performance.

"You're going to love this, Dad. She puts on an amazing show." Charlie nudges him gently.

"Wait, I didn't even ask, who are we seeing?" He asks.

"Oh, it's El-"

As Charlie is about to finish saying Elizabeth's name, the stadium suddenly erupts into chaos. The lights dim and the crowd begins screaming and cheering as loud as possible. Lucifer turns to the front as colors form across the stage and onto the big screen up front.

The lights cast a mystical aura over the scene. The crowd's screams and cheers reverberate through the air, increasing anticipation. Colors swirl across the massive screens flanking the stage, creating a mesmerizing backdrop that pulsed with energy.

As dancers begin to enter the stage, finding their spots around the center, people lose their minds. Lucifer stands with his eyes fixed on the stage as images flash across the screens—scenes of celestial beauty juxtaposed with fiery landscapes of Hell. Each visual goes with the rhythm of the music.

The air is filled with excitement as the music intensifies, reaching a fever pitch that matches the feeling of the audience. Then, as if summoned by the song, a figure rose from the center of the stage. She emerged slowly, bathed in a spotlight that seemed to gather all the light in the universe around her.

His stomach falls as soon as he sees her. He could recognize that face anywhere, those dark brown curls, those deep green eyes. The first notes of the song float through the air, and as she opens her mouth to sing, her voice, clear and ethereal, fills every corner of the stadium. The crowd goes wild, caught in the spell of her presence, but Lucifer remains rooted to the spot, his gaze locked onto her.

It was her—El, Lizzie, Liz, his best friend.

Memories flood back in a rush: their laughter under the willow tree, the stolen moments in Eden, when he fell. He would've never expected to see her again, not like this, commanding the stage with grace and power.

Lucifer feels a mix of emotions surge within him—longing, regret, and a desperate hope to somehow make amends for the past. He has to find a way to reach her. He immediately takes his hat off and begins to fix his hair nervously, as if it matters.

Stupid, stupid, there's no way she can even see me from here, he thinks.

She looks beautiful. She still looks just as young as she did when they met. Her eyes still have that youthful spirit and she looks exactly the same. When did he change so much? He watches her with stars in his eyes throughout the first three songs.

The only thing different is the way she's dressed. Since she's in Hell, she's wearing a red leather jacket, a red lacy top, and this little black skirt that matches with these platform black boots. Her eyes are just as striking as ever and when the first three songs are done, she walks over to a mic stand in the center of the stage. She's only a few feet in front of them now and he can really see how beautiful she is.

She takes a step back and teasingly takes off her jacket, handing it to a dancer. The crowd goes wild and it makes her laugh as she goes up to talk. And if he didn't know it by now, that laugh of hers tells him that it's still his same old El.

"Hi, everybody, I'm Elizabeth," She says and once again, everyone starts cheering. "But after tonight, we're gonna be so close, you can call me Liz."

"It's so cute that she says that as if people don't know who she is." Charlie leans over to tell him.

"And I would like to take this incredible opportunity you've given me to say, Welcome to the Long Way Down Stadium Tour." She says proudly holding her arms out.

"I know her!" Lucifer tries to tell Charlie.

"What?" She yells and he knows she can't hear him.

"A little fun fact for all of you beautiful people in the Pride Ring," She continues, her voice ringing out confidently. "This is the first time anyone has been able to play three back-to-back shows in this stadium. Thank you so much for that. And thank you for joining me for the very first show in Hell for night one in Pride!"

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, Liz smiles, soaking in the adoration and excitement.

"I've been dreaming of this moment for so long," She says, her voice softening just a bit. "To bring my music to all of you, to share this experience in a brand new setting."

Lucifer watches her intently, his heart aching with a mix of pride and sadness. This was the same Lizzie he had known, yet she had grown into someone even more remarkable. And he missed out on all of it.

"And tonight," She continues as she takes the microphone off of the stand, now having a red microphone, "I want to take you on a journey through my life, my friendships, my heartbreaks. Is everyone ready?"

The crowd roars in agreement as she turns around to walk away with a big smile and the music swells once more as Lizzie launches into the next song. The stage lights dance around her, creating a mesmerizing display that enhances the magic of her performance.

Seeing her up there shining the way she does makes this feeling go through his chest. He stands there like a ghost at the end of the hallway as he watches her. He needs to see her, he needs to talk to her. He's the King of Hell, for fucks sake, he can find a way to get backstage after the show.

After five costume changes, thirty songs, and a lot of dances, Liz reaches the end of the show. As the outro starts Liz steps back to the center of the stage with the microphone in her hand as the dancers begin to exit.

She begins introducing her band and her dancers for the second time before they all come together for a bow. She's glowing up there and Lucifer hasn't taken his eyes off of her for even a second.

"Thank you everybody for coming out tonight," She smiles widely. "You all have been an incredible crowd and once again, thank you!"

She then bows by herself just before the stage begins to lower her back down all while confetti is blasting in the stadium.

"I know her, I need to go meet her." Lucifer places a hand on Charlie's back as he talks closer to her ear.

"You know her? Since when?" Charlie yells.

"Since forever, I gotta go, you coming with?" He asks as people begin to walk out.

"Vaggie, come on!" Charlie squeals happily as Lucifer begins to walk away.

He takes the lead as he begins rushing to the side of the stage. The first couple of guards let him through because he's the King and he finds his way to the backstage door.

"I want to meet Elizabeth," Lucifer says calmly but firmly.

"I mean, I can let you back there, Your Highness, but she's already gone." The guard says nervously.

"What do you mean she's already gone? The show just ended." He says quickly.

"She has a house here in Pride and she throws these big parties after every show. I'm headed there after my shift, I can write you the address." The guard practically gulps.

"Thank you, that would be great." Lucifer immediately conjures a pen and paper before pushing it to the man's chest.

The guard quickly scribbles down the address, hands shaking slightly as he hands the paper back to Lucifer.

"Here you go, Your Highness. Just...be careful. Her parties can get pretty wild."

"Thanks," Lucifer says bluntly, taking the paper and turning back to Charlie and Vaggie.

"What's the plan?" Vaggie asks.

"We're going to this party," Lucifer replies, determination etched on his face. "I have to talk to her."

"Why are you so obsessed with this girl?" Charlie laughs. "I mean, I know she's hot but-"

"I've known her since the beginning do time, I met her before your mother was even created. She was my best friend." Lucifer tells them and they both go quiet.

"Oh...shit." Charlie coughs.

"Let's go then, let's find her." Vaggie nods and then so does Charlie.

The trio makes their way out of the stadium, dodging groups of concertgoers still buzzing from the performance. They manage to flag down a taxi and give the driver the address, settling in for the ride.

As they wind through the neon-lit streets of the Pride Ring, Lucifer's mind races. He hasn't seen El in centuries, and now she's back, more vibrant and powerful than ever. He needs to explain himself, to apologize, to make things right. But how? What can he possibly say to make up for the years of silence and pain?

She knows exactly what happened to him, she was there. And he wasn't exactly considering her in any of his actions when he should've.

The taxi pulls up to a grand, sprawling mansion, it's exterior pulsating with colorful lights and thumping music. Even from the outside, it's clear that the party is in full swing. Lucifer takes a deep breath and steps out, followed closely by Charlie and Vaggie.

"We're gonna go get a drink, you go." Charlie gently pats his back.

Lucifer nods as he turns to face the party. His eyes nervously scan the room, desperately looking for her. The scene inside is nothing short of chaotic. Demons, angels, and redeemed sinners alike fill the rooms, dancing, drinking, and reveling in the spectacle of it all. A few members of the hotel are sitting by a big table so Lucifer heads there first.

"Angel, hi." He stands beside the spider demon.

"Hey, I didn't know you'd be here." He smiles.

"Do you know where El is?"

"Who?"

"Elizabeth? The girl throwing this party?"

"Oh, I didn't know she was throwing this party. I haven't even seen her around. Apparently, she does these in Heaven too and she's rarely even there. Maybe she's here tonight though, I'm hearing a lot of whispers." Angel shrugs.

"Whispers? Whispers about what? What kind of person throws big ass parties they don't attend?" He asks.

"Who knows about that last question, but apparently, she's got a whole mystery vibe going on," Angel says, leaning back in his chair. "I've heard whispers that she's been seen in multiple places at once. Some say she's got an army of doppelgängers, others say she's got the power to teleport. There's even a rumor that she doesn't really exist, that she's just a legend conjured up by the desperate and the damned."

"Okay, none of that is true," Lucifer chuckles. "Wait, so no one knows where she is?"

"I'd ask Husk. He's upstairs gambling, money only, no souls." He shrugs.

"Thanks, Angel." Lucifer nods and Angel just hums as he walks away.

He then turns to the large staircase. It's grand and beautiful. The more he looks around though, the less the house feels like her. Not the Lizzie he knew, anyway. He turns the corner and his heart stops when he sees her right beside Husk at the table with a smile.

"Blow on my dice, Liz?" He chuckles.

"Come on, Husk, I wanna throw 'em." She giggles and he immediately hands her the dice.

Lucifer begins charging through the crowd like a bull but he can't get to her. People keep moving in front of him, trying to crowd her. They immediately block her, his height is no advantage. He tries to push through but it's no use. The crowd around her cheers and he groans as he tries to get to the front.

After a minute or so of pushing he gets to the front but she's not there. He practically falls to his knees to pray that he'll get to see her. It wouldn't work but he'd try anything at this point. When he sees Adam standing on the edge by the railing of the stairs, he cringes.

He swallows his pride as he walks up to the first man.

"Adam, hey...man." He says awkwardly.

"What do you want?" He scoffs.

"Do you remember Lizzie?"

"Of course, I do. She's hot as fuck, we've hooked up a few times." He smirks smugly and Lucifer wants to strangle him for a moment.

"Did you see where she went?"

"She doesn't want to see you."

"How do you know that?" He asks.

"She hates you."

His stomach drops for a moment. He believes it, he did a lot of stupid shit. But he still wants to see her. After all, he built his life around her and what she wanted without even thinking about it. He realized right after building this life here, building his own home, that he made it in the image of her dreams.

"I need to see her, Adam." He says more vulnerably than ever.

"Why do you want everything I want?" He turns to face Lucifer.

"It's not about that, it's just- you know our history. If you know where she is, please just tell me." He breathes out.

Adam thinks for a moment, his foot tapping as he leans on the railing again. He sighs for a moment before looking back at Lucifer.

"If she's anywhere, she's on the roof." He tells him.

"Thank you, Adam, really. Thank you." Lucifer smiles before immediately turning to the balcony.

When he pushes open the door at the top, he's greeted by a cool breeze and the sight of the city's neon lights stretching out into the horizon. He turns around and there's a small ladder that leads to the roof. He goes to climb it without hesitation and that's when he sees her. She has a water bottle in her hands and when she looks down to see him, it falls.

The small green bottle begins to roll down the roof but he catches it.

"Hey." He says softly as he places both feet on the roof and walks to sit beside her, offering the bottle.

"What are you doing here, Lucifer?" She sighs.

"I had to see you, I just saw your show. It was incredible," He says, his voice wracked with emotion. She looks stunning with the wind blowing her hair just right. "It's been too long, El. I needed to find you, to talk to you."

"Talk? After all this time? Why now?" She crosses her arms.

"Because you're important to me. And I made some dumb decisions but-"

"Don't minimize it to that. I warned you what would happen, I was stupid enough to stick by your side." She sighs. "You piss me off. You made me look stupid...weak. I loved you."

"I- El, I loved you too. I swear I did." He breathes out.

"No, you don't do that to someone you love." She shakes her head.

"Elizabeth, you knew me better than anyone." He starts.

"And now I don't. We haven't spoken in millennia, Lucifer. I'm okay with just being a part of your origin story and you being a part of mine. I'm okay with all of our memories being just stories. You should learn to be okay with that. I heard you have a daughter now— good for you." She sighs before taking a sip of her water.

"You were my first love." He turns to face her.

"Grow up, Lucifer." She laughs.

"I remember when I was 'Lu' and 'Luci' instead of just my full name." He sighs.

"I waited for you. I was convinced you'd return and tell me about the crazy journey you went through. And then I found out you got married and had a kid and I moved on. It's bad enough I had to hear about your every damn move knowing you never heard about me. You didn't have to go through that torture of watching me change." She leans back and looks up at the sky.

Before she can say anything else, she stands up and brushes herself off.

"Take care of your daughter. Don't make the same mistakes again." She says as she begins to walk away.

He watches her as she walks away with this feeling in his heart. He needs to make this better, he needs to fix this.

[ghostofskywalker]

Terror of the Seas

Elizabeth Swann/Reader

Fictober 2023 Day 3 of 31

Words: 1,371

Summary: At first you're unsure about the woman who approached you with a promise to help you seek revenge, but you soon realize how much you like being around her. 

Note: this fic was requested by the lovely @captainsophiestark, and it was my first time writing elizabeth!! i hope you enjoy it bestie :)

Elizabeth Swann Masterlist

After losing your ship to a mutiny (orchestrated by your none other than your trusted first mate), you spent your days on the shores of Tortuga, drinking your pain away and seething in silence as you planned your grand return to the seas. You had specific plans for each member of your traitorous crew, and at this point all you needed was the opportune moment to strike. So when you were approached by another female pirate in the middle of the day with an odd undercurrent to her voice, you weren’t sure if you wanted to potentially miss your window of revenge.

“Why do you want my help?” you asked, automatically skeptical of her motives. Your former first mate (who now had control of the ship you had sailed for years) could have sent her to make sure that you weren’t aware when they made port.

“I want to offer you a deal,” she said. “I know what happened to you, and I can help you get your ship back.”

“What do you want in return?” you asked. This already seemed like a trick, and you weren’t sure what kind of deal she would offer you.

“I want a spot on the crew when you redraw it.”

You couldn’t help the way you raised your eyebrows in confusion. That didn’t seem like too big of an ask, which meant that you would be gaining considerably more from this agreement than she would. “Why?” was all you said in response, wondering what kind of answer you were going to get from her.

“Does it matter?”

Oh, that meant she was running away from something (or someone), you thought. You paused for a moment, now with all the answers you needed, before you spoke again. “I suppose not,” you said. “But how do you propose we get my ship back? I don’t even know where it is at the moment.”

“There’s whispers that the Crimson Clover will be making port here within the next two days,” she said, a glint of mischief on her face. “We can at least begin there.”

It was rare for you to trust someone, even more so now, but you couldn’t deny the nagging feeling in the back of your brain that her information was correct. “Alright,” you said, taking a long drink from the bottle in front of you before responding. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Plans were made to meet when the news broke that your former ship made port, and you finally learned her name: Elizabeth. You actually learned even more about this woman after asking around, and you found out some curious information. She was the governor’s daughter (now you understood why she would so willingly suggest a deal she did not have the upper hand on), and that she had experience with some of the pirates that frequented here. The name Jack Sparrow popped up a couple times, which only furthered your wonders about her background. Captain Jack Sparrow was infamous around these parts, and it made complete sense why Elizabeth wouldn’t want to travel with him permanently, as he was more unpredictable than he was intoxicated.

There was something about her that made you want to learn everything you could, and the feeling surprised you. You had spent most of your adult life as a loner, never getting close enough to show any kind of vulnerability, and the only time you did allow yourself to be part of something, your crew had mutinied, completely abandoning you to the mercy of the unforgiving elements. And yet one small conversation with Elizabeth had you planning out your new life and mapping out a crew in your head with her on it, after you recovered your ship and took the necessary revenge on your crew.

Days went by, and the day you moved against your traitorous crew was the same day you learned that Elizabeth was a terror in combat. Her unyielding bravery and aggressive swordsmanship is not something you would have liked to go up against, and you were glad that she was on your side.

The two of you raced up and leaped on the deck of the Crimson Clover, weapons raised as you regarded your former crew. The now-captain was nowhere to be seen, so you stalked through the rest of the crew in the direction of the ship’s private quarters. No one tried to stop you, they knew who you were really looking for. You did think it somewhat odd, but you supposed that the new captain might have already run out of favor with his new crew, and that might your job easier.

“Get off this boat at once,” you heard Elizabeth order, and the sound of swords clanging together filled the air.

You stepped into the room that used to be yours, only to be met with a significant shock. Devil’s Charm, your former first mate and the man who had incited violence against you almost a year ago, was lying dead on the ground, with an unseeing stare on his face.

You didn’t care to investigate (nor did you have time to), so you raced back to the deck of the boat and helped Elizabeth chase off your former crew. You knew that it would be more difficult to control the ship for a little while (until you managed to find another suitable group of people to sail with), but you would rather do everything by yourselves for a week or two than to allow anyone to stay. It wasn’t worth constantly living in fear or always having to look over your shoulder, and you didn’t think a single one of those men deserved even a shred of mercy.

“Everything alright?’ Elizabeth asked as you joined the fight, her sword clanging against another’s.

A smile crossed your face. “It’s all been taken care of,” you said, and you knew she caught the undertone of your words.

Between the two of you, quick work was made of the halfwit pirates you used to employ (and the rotting corpse of your former first mate was tossed into the swirling depths), and soon you were sitting on the deck of the ship with Elizabeth, passing a bottle of rum between you. “We need to find a crew,” you said, looking out at the horizon. Feelings of excitement and adventure were coursing through your body, and you desperately wanted to sail towards it, searching every corner of the earth in the way that only this profession allowed.

“We can put up some notice in the pub,” Elizabeth said. “Depending on how picky you want to be, we can be out of here within the week.”

“I admire your optimism about the quality of crew we’ll find here,” you laughed. “But I think it’ll take a little longer than that. If you find another ship that you want to leave on before I’ve found a full crew, I understand.”

She looked at you with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

“I know a little more about you than I ever let on, Miss Swann,” you said, and you saw her face change at the sound of her last name. “I’m not retracting my offer or going against our deal, but I understand what it’s like to want to get away from something. If someone else can offer than quicker, I wouldn’t blame you for taking the opportunity.”

She paused before responding. “I first approached you with the intent to create an opportunity for myself to run away, yes,” she said, speaking quieter than she had before. “But after spending more time with you, I realized that I was not only running away, but that I wanted to find a place where I belonged. And I don’t know about you, but I think we make a pretty good team.”

Every feeling you had for her was now rushing to the surface of your thoughts, and you tried not to let any of that show on your face. Not wanting to scare her off, you just nodded. “I think so too,” you said, a smile on your face.

You couldn’t wait to set sail again, especially if it meant spending more time with her. 

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[moistvonlipwig]

supercorp 1 8 9 16 20

right on 🫡

What is my absolute favorite of their scenes and why do I love it so much?

Oh I don't know...there are many good classic scenes. For the sake of spicing it up I'll talk about a moment that I don't often see people discuss and that is actually from an episode that I otherwise don't really like, namely: the scene in 5x19 where Kara is on the ground with kryptonite coursing through her veins and then Lena's anti-kryptonite device flies in and attaches itself to her suit and before it's even started working, Kara smiles and laughs. Just...the fact that Kara is in (if we are to believe her assessment in S3) incredible pain and that doesn't even matter to her because Lena's on her side again. I think that's a really sweet moment and it captures a lot of what I wish S5 & S6 had been about for them lol.

8. Am I most interested in fics about them that focus on fluff, angst, humor, smut or actual plot?

Angst, humor, & plot are all good with me. Fluff & smut tend to bore me.

9. What is my ideal endgame for them?

Hm, I could envision several good endgames for them (none of which include Lena being a witch or Kara becoming editor-in-chief or revealing herself to the world lol). I think ideally Kara would eventually become known as Superwoman and maybe would become more of an independent freelance journalist, while Lena would run the Lena Luthor Foundation which presumably funds Good Things. Lena would keep kryptonite on hand in a secret vault in case of emergency and Kara would be cool with it, and Lena would also design all kinds of suits & accessories for Kara (sorry Brainy but your Supergirl suit design was not very good). I like the idea of Kara having a longer, more stately cape especially as she grows older and more confident.

I do think they'd both want to get married, probably in a Kryptonian or Kryptonian-inspired ceremony. I think they should get a cat or a dog or both. I like lena-in-a-red-dress's fic where Lena adopts Dex-Starr the Red Lantern cat so let's say their cat is Dex-Starr. And their dog can be Rex from sango-blep's comics. Rex is cute.

I like the idea of them having kids, though I also think they'd be OK without them. If they did have kids I think the kids would be Luthors, not Danverses or Luthor-Danverses. They would also probably be created via birthing matrix or a similar technology invented by Lena because I can't imagine either Kara or Lena wanting to get pregnant lol. I like Leo Alexander as a name for a boy. I'm less sure about names for girls (maybe Sasha? Elizabeth? Linda?) but I don't like Lori, I know that's popular because of an old comic where Lena has a daughter named Lori but I am not a fan.

16. What are three of my fic recs for this ship? And (in the event that I’ve written something for them) one of my fics involving them that I’m most proud of?

Catfishy Business by whythinktoomuch is an iconic and deeply funny fic.

lena dies on a wednesday by karalovesallthegirls is a GREAT time loop fic that ingeniously puts us in the shoes of someone who doesn't know they're in a time loop. I think you've said you've read it? Still, it bears re-reading.

There are so many other great fics I could rec but I'll rec one that is a little bit lesser-known, since I've already named two very well-known fics. Which is and darling (is there a cure for this hunger?) by m_oliverfan, aka There Are Consequences To Sending Nyxly To Eternal Torment Land, Actually.

I've only finished one fic for SC so far which is laid in thine enemy's grave? - in truth, i dig it, which I believe you've also read. ^_^

20. How and when should they have gotten together?

I think in a better S5 where they started talking to each other sooner -- end of 5x13 would've been a good time -- and had some time to work through some stuff, I could see an end-of-S5 confession or kiss working. In terms of the actual show, which was never very good at writing romance, I think a Korrasami-style 'they end up together or are implied to end up together as part of Kara finding herself' would've charmed me.

[mystic-headcanons]

you, that one anon and I, are single handedly CARRYING the autistic Jumin headcanon.

If it's alright, what would happen if MC were to help Jumin through a meltdown and/or shutdown? Or her just telling Jumin that it's okay to be him, and that they can find out who he is behind the mask together :,]?

Man this makes me wanna *hits desk repeatedly*

FR THO i love my autistic king <3 i'm sorry for the delay! i've had a very. very. eventful couple of weeks T_T

letting himself feel his emotions was something jumin was still getting used to. before her, he always imagined his feelings as something to be locked away, never to be touched and opened. a pandora's box. there was a wall between himself and his emotions, and it was better for everyone that way. of course, he was only human, and sometimes his strongest emotions would slip through. sadness would creep its way out of the box every so often, catching him in her cruel grip. there was always affection whenever he spent time with elizabeth the third, but other than that, jumin never really let himself feel anything. he had always believed that emotions were a waste of time-- that it didn't matter what he felt, because people treated him the same no matter what. no one ever cared for his emotional needs, so why would he? of course, that all changed when he met her and fell in love for the first time. she was able to get him out of his own head, was able to slowly untangle the mess that was jumin han; while he seemed cold and aloof on the outside, he had been drowning under the surface. she had been his lifeline.

she opened his eyes to so much more than emotions, though. it was her that persuaded him to get an autism diagnosis, her that stuck by his side through the assessment and the waiting, and then the confirmation. the confirmation was both a relief and an anxiety- jumin was relieved to hear that there was a reason for the way that he was, and that he wasn't just some broken mess. anxiety had quickly overpowered the relief he felt, though, because...well, powerful people weren't autistic. in his high society, there was not a single person like that. while jumin was sure a lot of them had mental illnesses, it was something taboo among the elites. something that was spoken of behind closed doors and cupped hands, in whispers while you were passing by and words with double meanings. after the diagnosis, jumin began learning about autism- both through research and through firsthand experiences. something he had to learn firsthand was shutdowns and meltdowns.

there were different types, she had explained, and it's not always a visibly emotional breakdown. sometimes it's just completely shutting down, your body present but your mind somewhere far away where no one could reach. it's your senses becoming overwhelmed to the point where your conscious mind decides to take a step back. jumin didn't understand how that could happen until he had experienced it.

it had been a long, stressful day. there were stacks of paper to be signed, crowds of important businessmen and women to be met with, and an important client backed out of a deal at the last minute and left them all scrambling. jumin's entire routine had been thrown off, and he had to meet with his father and his father's new girlfriend; she was worse than the others, had come onto him when his father wasn't in the room and invaded his personal space. by the time jumin got home, he was barely holding himself together. he breezed by his cat and his wife without a word and made his way into the bedroom where he threw himself down onto the bed and stared blankly up at the ceiling. the longer he laid there, the more detached he became from reality until jumin was unseeing and unblinking. this comatose-like state was how she found him, and she was quiet and gentle when she shut the door behind her. not that it really mattered, because she was certain that the penthouse could burn down and jumin would still be none the wiser.

she sat next to him on the bed and repeatedly carded her fingers through his hair, content to do so until he came back to reality. it took a little while, but she could see the light slowly come back to his eyes. saw how he finally started to notice his surroundings, and then notice her. "when did you come in?" he asked, voice a little rough. "mmm about half an hour ago." she responded, stopping her motions in favor of leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "rough day?" she asked, and made a sympathetic noise when he nodded. "overwhelming." he said, letting out a sigh as he closed his eyes. "i'm sorry i went all..spacey like that."

"hey, don't apologize." she frowned, lightly tapping his forehead. "this kind of thing happens sometimes. do you want me to make an appointment with a therapist or anything?" that was a new thing, too. therapy. jumin still wasn't entirely comfortable with it, but he couldn't deny that it did help. learning more about his diagnosis and his feelings and how he felt things made it feel less lonely. like, he wasn't the only one who was messed up. jumin was about to deny her offer, but caught himself. it would always be hard to let other people in, to let them see all the mangled, messed up parts that made him, but he was trying.

there was a fear that jumin had of letting other people know of his diagnosis. other than the repercussions in his society, he feared that people would look at him and label him as autistic. like they wouldn't be able to see any other part of him. it was also the reason why he felt like he never really knew himself; he never knew where his mask ended and where he began, always too afraid to find out. he voiced this fear to her, and fell silent as she contemplated her response for a moment. "i think...the people who love you won't look at you and see your diagnosis, but rather look at it like one more piece to the puzzle. like something to help them understand you better." she said, her voice slow and clear. "as for who you are...well, i can sit here and tell you exactly who i think you are without your mask, but it's more important for you to figure that out...and i'll be right here by your side, of course." her words helped to quell the rising anxiety, and he couldn't be more grateful that someone so thoughtful and so calming was by his side. "thank you." he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "i will....give the therapist a call myself. in a little while, though. i want to stay here with you for a moment."

[amberskywrites]

Eternal

Chapter 24 - Consequences

Chapter 1 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 25 || Masterpost | AO3 Link | FF.net Link

Fandom / Genre: Nanatsu no Taizai (Seven Deadly Sins) / Canon-Divergent and Hurt/Comfort

Pairings: Meliodas/Elizabeth, Zeldris/Gelda, Meliodas & Zeldris & Elizabeth & Gelda

Overall Story Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Canon-typical violence, Canonical character death, Canon temporary character death, Cursed characters, Lmk if I need to add anything else!

Chapter Warnings: None, lmk if there’s anything I need to add!

Author's Note:

So, so incredibly sorry for how long it's taken to get back to this! A lot of stuff ended up happening - younger sibling was dealing with a lot of health issues, family tensions reached a new high, I'm no longer on speaking terms with someone in my house, so much uni work. And now I'm trying to get to a point where I'm no longer reliant on that someone financially, trying to plan to move out later this year, and am now working retail part-time before uni starts up again alongside an internship I was accepted for. I can't promise that updates will be more frequent or be on any kind of schedule; but what I can promise is that this story will not be abandoned. If you ever want an update on how it's going - or just to ask me what's up - message me anywhere from here on Ao3 to Tumblr or Instagram ^^ Thank you all, genuinely, for being patient and for the love you have shown this story - I truly appreciate it!

Story Summary:

Eternal…

life.

reincarnation.

silence.

and chains.

For 3,000 long and painful years, these four have been doing all they can to lift their curses. They have failed, again and again and again. With only a sliver of hope left, they try once more.

-

Or, what if Zeldris accepted Meliodas’ offer to go with him 3,000 years ago?

King’s eyes were wide, and his voice caught in his throat. But even if he wanted to say anything, he had no words. All he managed was a strangled gasp before he heard the distorted and so, so painfully familiar voice of his baby sister come from the lights.

“Ban, what happened? How did you get that scar?”

She didn’t even acknowledge him, the lights tilting slightly to the side but still near Ban, still not moving away from the man who should still be petrified.

Ban scoffed and tilted his head King’s way, but didn’t actually look at King. His expression was… if King had to name it, he’d say fond, faux annoyance plastered on his face.

“I thought you guys watched over us from the other side?”

“It… it really is her- Elaine!” King choked out, and he was vaguely aware of Ban glancing at him, but King couldn’t- he just couldn’t be bothered anymore. Not when… “Please, show yourself to me too!”

Ban continued looking at him, and he said something, though King didn’t hear it. It wasn’t too quiet, but everything suddenly seemed muffled, and all that mattered was Elaine. He had to see her again, make up for his mistakes.

The orbs of light swayed slightly, side to side, as if she were shaking her head. King’s heart settled in his throat as tears stung his eyes.

“The Necropolis allows people to see each other even after death, but only through strong emotional bonds.”

He looked down, finally tearing his eyes away from the pair. He couldn’t help but laugh quietly to himself.  “So you’re still angry at me… for abandoning you, the forest, and everything we believed in…” King mumbled, feeling the tears collect at the corner of his eyes and trying to blink them away. He clenched his fists, trying to distract himself.

There was an explosion in the distance. The power was almost overwhelmingly familiar, followed by a certainly familiar aura of magic.

“A holy knight?” Ban hissed, whipping around to look in the direction they had come from. King glanced up, seeing the immortal posed to run that way. At this point, King didn’t really care.

Elaine’s voice stopped them both - Ban from running off, and King from continuing to wallow.

“Ban, why did you come here?”

Ban didn’t even turn to face her. He just paused, and even when he began speaking, his face gave nothing away.

“I came to say one thing to you: that I will one day take what is mine.”

Despite his expression never changing, King could only imagine what the man meant by that, and his despair over Elaine refusing to let him see her easily morphed into a rage that heated him to his very core. 

“What more could you take from my sister, Ban?!” he snapped, but Ban didn’t even look at him this time. King ground his teeth together, fingers twitching, calling Chastiefol back and about to transform it.

The only reason he stopped was because of Elaine.

“Thank you, Ban.” Her voice was softer than it was before, and King was frozen in his confusion.

Ban didn’t wait a second more, running off towards the remnants of the explosion.

-

Elaine watched her brother drift to the ground, head hanging, the tears finally slipping down his boyish cheeks. She watched impassively, the only thing she would allow herself to feel regarding her brother.

Too many years she had wasted in sorrow and anger and confusion. He didn’t deserve more than impassion from her.

“Why?” he was whispering, she realized. “What could Ban give you that I can’t? When he’s the reason you died?”

She said nothing, but she did drift closer, if only to hear more of what he would say on the things he had no knowledge of.

“How can you forgive Ban?”

How could she forgive him?

What is there to forgive?

Ban didn’t do anything to her.

…

Well. That’s not true.

Elaine didn’t inhale, because she no longer needed to, but she thinks if she still had to breathe she would have. She let go of the impassion, the indifference. And she let the pain in her heart soul boil to the surface as she stared at her big, foolish brother.

“You left,” she starts. “You left, and I was forced to spend hundreds of years in solitude.” She could hear her voice reverberate off the crystalline walls around them, so far away still. But his breathing had hitched, he was listening, and she could see the moment his heart skipped a beat when she finally addressed him. She could feel the way his heart ached, the pain that plagued it, the pain that he had no right to feel when he left.

The pain was familiar. The pain was her own as much as it was his.

Her next words were clearer, grounded in her instead of around them. His head snapped up.

“Seven hundred years after you abandoned your country, after you abandoned me. And Ban… Ban erased all the loneliness in just seven days. He made those centuries feel like nothing more than a nightmare.” 

He couldn’t find words, his mouth opening and closing but not even a stranged sound could escape. She narrowed her eyes, just slightly. He was still her brother, after all, and she would not allow her rage and hurt caused by him to take over her soul. She would not.

“You ask how I can forgive Ban. But I have to ask, how can I forgive you?” 

The anguish on his face didn’t bring her any satisfaction. It only sparked a fury in her chest, and she ached with the anger. She took a faux breath, if only to ground herself, and smoothed the glare away, dragging back the indifferent expression to her face.

“You don’t know him, brother. You don’t know him at all.”

-

Zeldris hauled Meliodas out of the rubble, the brothers hunching behind Gelda a moment later as she blasted one of Guila’s incoming attacks.

“We’re getting nowhere,” Meliodas huffed, “and only being driven back to where Elizabeth ran.”

“We’re getting somewhere,” Zeldris said. “We’re being good distractions.”

“I wouldn’t call you distractions. I haven’t forgotten about Princess Elizabeth,” Guila said from where she stood on a high crystal that Diane had made in an attempt to attack her. “However, I have no intention of passing up the chance of fighting two of the Seven Deadly Sins.” She tilted her head, regarding Gelda and Zeldris with a contemplative frown. “Well, two depowered Sins and their… family, if the reports are to be believed. I must say, it is a mystery as to why two people so seemingly as powerful as the Sins would not have fought alongside them over ten years ago. I must ask-”

“None of your business!” Diane swung a hammer-shaped crystal at the pillar Guila had claimed, forcing the possible holy knight to leap to another. Before she could get her bearings, Diane swung again, aiming for Guila’s feet, and again with every move back she forced Guila.

“Interesting,” Guila mused on the fifth swing, before twisting her body and propelling herself back on Diane’s make-shift hammer. She flipped back and created an explosion beneath herself, bringing her higher than the giant and keeping herself in the air with multiple smaller explosions. The next time Diane swung, there was a warning shout from Zeldris, but it was too late, and Guila blasted the hammer swinging at her with a large ball of flames.

The explosion forced the hammer to swing in reverse, and Diane narrowly avoided being slammed in the head by it, but lost her footing in avoiding the bludgeon. Guila took the opening and barraged her with explosions, and two, three stumbles back, Diane finally crashed.

Guila aimed another explosion at the downed giant, dismissing the fact that Gelda and Zeldris were in front of her. They braced for impact, both Gelda and Zeldris creating a barrier of purple and red flames in front of them and Diane. Guila’s frown deepened and brow furrowed. Something about the aura…

It didn’t matter. The flames would just bolster her power.

She sent the blast forward.

When it made contact, she expected the explosion to absorb the flames and continue on its path, smashing into the three.

It absorbed the flames.

It did not collide.

She had just a second to dodge her own blast.

[foundtherightwords]

The Firebird - Chapter 1

Pairing: Prince Paul (Catherine the Great) x OFC, fairytale AU

Summary: When Paul, a spoiled young prince, spots a strange bird in the forest near his palace, he impulsively chases after it, hoping to both escape from and prove himself to his disapproving mother. Thus he is plunged into an exhilarating adventure across a magical realm populated by enchanted princesses, dangerous monsters, and powerful wizards, an adventure that may change him more than he can ever imagine.

Chapter warning: none

Chapter word count: 3.5k

A/N: The real Paul I of Russia was kind of a jerk and came to such a sticky end (assassinated by his own officers) that I couldn't think of something realistic or historically accurate for him, so I had to put him into an AU. Plus, I've always loved Slavic fairy tales/folk tales, and it's been really fun working them into a fic. This is mostly based on Prince Ivan, the Firebird and the Gray Wolf, but there are elements from other tales as well.

I include a few Russian words for authenticity's sake. In case the meaning isn't clear from the text itself, there will be a translation at the bottom of the chapter.

Chapter 1

Once upon a time...

That is how these things often start, isn't it? Very well, then that is how we shall begin our tale.

Once upon a time, across thrice-nine lands, in a thrice-tenth kingdom, there lived a prince named Paul, a tsarevich, as sons of emperors and empresses of that land were called. Paul was the sole heir to a vast and powerful empire, but to own the truth, unlike the princes of the old stories, Paul himself was not noble or heroic, both in appearance and temperament. He could have been quite handsome if he had let his natural features shine instead of hiding them under the fashionable rouge and powder of those days. He could have been quite charming if his behaviors and expressions were a little more agreeable. He wished to rule but didn't know how or care to learn. He simply assumed that respect and power were owed him, and turned sulky and surly when he didn't get them, which was all the time.

Well, who could blame him? He was caught between two powerful and ambitious women—his father's aunt, the Empress Elizabeth, who had brought him up, and his mother, the Empress Catherine. Catherine, who had taken the throne from Paul's father, Emperor Peter, was a tenacious and ruthless ruler, and she loathed having to share her power. She kept Paul away from all matters of court and country, insisting that his sole and most important duty was to make an advantageous marriage and produce an heir for her. Perhaps she wished to raise this heir as she had not been allowed to raise Paul, and pass the throne directly onto him without having to go through her son, the son who reminded her so much of her feeble-minded husband.

Paul didn't remember his father. He was overthrown when Paul was just a boy, and died soon after—some said murdered by his own wife. He existed in Paul's mind less as a father and more as an abstract idea, an act of defiance against his mother.

And so Paul grew up from a sullen boy into a sullen young man, smothered by his grandmother, unloved and unwanted by his mother, and barely tolerated by the servants, for all that they waited on him hand and foot.

Yet for all his flaws, no evil thought resided in Paul's mind, no harmful desire coursed through his veins. He merely longed for his mother's affection, or, failing that, her acceptance. He longed, like any young man did, to prove his worth. But what was his worth? And how could he prove it, if he didn't know what it was?

As I've said, the empire to which Paul was heir is a vast one. Just how vast, nobody quite knows. It stretches from East to West, from ocean to ocean, and contains the loftiest, iciest mountains and the flattest, most arid steppes, the densest forests and the widest rivers. Though countless attempts had been made by cartographers and explorers to conquer its farthest reaches, many remained uncharted. Yet there are parts of the empire that very few know exist, and even fewer have seen. They stand just above the tall peaks or below the deep lakes, their entrances hidden behind a lightning-struck tree or inside a dark cavern. Look for them, and you'll never find them. During those times when the earth meets the sky, right before daybreak, on moonlit nights, or as dusk is falling, you may spy their denizens just out of the corner of your eyes, dancing in the water or flying on a magic horse, or moving about in their chicken-legged hut. But turn around to look more closely and you'll realize it's nothing but a branch breaking, a flock of birds suddenly taking flight, or a hare jumping back into its burrow.

Every child of the land knows the tales of those strange, hidden corners and their inhabitants, of Koschei the Deathless and Baba Yaga, of Ivan Tsarevich and Vasilisa the Beautiful. Paul, too, grew up with them, as told to him by an old, sad Fool dressed in motley clothes who hung about his mother's court. But as he grew older, he saw those tales as nonsense. There were always rules in the tales, but those rules never made sense. Why was it always the third prince or the youngest daughter who succeeded in their quests? Why was the orphan always aided by a wise old man or an enchanted doll or a talking horse? Well, he was an orphan of sorts—his father was dead and his mother barely even looked at him—so where was his magical helper? Then, as he grew older still, those tales were replaced by reports of conquests of foreign parts, lessons of history and politics, and whispers of how his mother had staged a coup and killed his father for the throne, of the illegitimate children she had hidden away. And so Paul had forgotten the fairy tales, dismissing them as absurd, fanciful yarn designed to fool only children. He was no longer a child; he was close to reaching his majority and must focus his attention on more serious matters.  

That was until the day he saw the firebird.

It was an early summer day in Tsarskoye Selo, the Tsar's Village. The court had recently moved to the Summer Palace there, and the Empress Catherine was spending half of her time mooning over that brainless oaf Potemkin who, blessed be the Saints, was away at war, and the other half of her time carrying it on with the even more brainless oaf Vasilchikov, in what Paul thought was a disgusting display of wantonness, unsuitable for any woman of her age, let alone an Empress. To make matters worse, Paul had turned eighteen over six months ago, yet she showed no sign of wanting to grant him more responsibility. Despite constant hints from his governor Panin and Paul himself, the Empress only gave noncommittal answers, telling Paul that he was going to inherit the throne, probably, one day, answers that meant to assure and only did the opposite. And she had taken to finding him a bride. Day after day, instead of attending the council or other court functions, he was forced to shift through miniatures after miniatures of all the major and minor princesses of Europe, searching for one that may catch his eye. In truth, none of them caught his eyes. They all looked the same, with their vacant gazes and simpering smiles, their powdered wigs and rouged cheeks. They all looked as though they were mocking him.

To escape the endless barrage of potential brides, Paul went to the barrack and gathered up his soldiers for drilling. This brigade, given to him by the Empress as a birthday present, was the one bright spot in Paul's days, but now he began to suspect, like the matter of finding a bride, it was just another way his mother sought to distract him. But at least it gave him something to do, and as he roared at the soldiers and reveled in the way they obeyed his commands, he dreamed of a day his mother may allow him to take them to war, or better yet, when she may be threatened by a coup—not a serious one, like the one that deposed his father, but a coup nonetheless, which he knew was a possibility, as many believed the empire shouldn't be ruled by a woman—and he would sweep in with his soldiers to save the day.

"My father was the father of his people," he shouted. This had been drilled into his head by his grandmother and his tutors until Paul no longer knew if it was what he truly believed or what he should believe. Both had blended into one in his mind. "And one day I will fulfill the duties and responsibilities of that role. I will lead a disciplined army of soldiers to make his dream for this great country come true!"

So perhaps it was unfortunate that his mother caught him just then.

By the thunderous look on her face as she called him into her private study, Paul knew he was in for another dressing down. His knees shook, and he hated himself for it, hated his mother for making him feel like a child. There was nothing else to do but to face her. Perhaps he could convince her and show how much he could be of use to her.

That hope disappeared the moment his mother spoke. "Are you planning your own little coup?" she barked, her sharp voice lashing at him like a whip. Paul almost cowered. He knew cowering would only bring on harsher words from his mother, so he forced himself to stand up straight. It was no use. She was relentless. "Is that what this is all about? Well you won't succeed, young man. The army is loyal to me. And the peasants will do as they are told. That is the truth." Paul was going to point out that there were talks of a peasant revolt, but his mother cut him off before he could utter a word. "It would be a terrible mistake to go against me," she snarled. "Because I know more about politics than you ever will. You would not last two minutes as a ruler!"

And whose fault is that? Paul wanted to scream. Whose fault was it that he didn't know what to do, what was expected of him? This was what his mother did, depriving him of power and agency and then admonishing him for rebelling against it. His blood boiled with the injustice of it all.

"And all your drilling with your little toy soldiers will get you nowhere at all. You see, power—power is a balancing act," she said. The gloating in her voice was more than he could bear, and he turned away again, gripping the pommel of his ceremonial sword until it dug painfully into his palm. "You have to learn how to walk the line. I would remind you always to remember from where your power, if you are ever to have any, which I doubt, will derive."

Those last few words made him pause. Did she just threaten to exclude him from succession? So she had been planning it all along, hadn't she? For all her talk about how Paul would rule one day, she had never truly wanted to share her power. He whirled around to face her, his face white with barely concealed rage.

"What do you mean, if I'm ever to have any power?" he said, biting out every word. "I shall rule! It is my birthright! You cannot deny me my birthright!"

"This is my country, you stupid boy!" Judging by her shout, it seemed his mother had realized her blunder and was trying to cover it up with a show of authority, as she always did. "Look for a bride! Get me an heir!"

"What am I to you, a breeding bull?" Paul snapped and had the brief satisfaction of seeing his mother flinch. He stormed off before she could think of a way to further punish him.

He went into his room, but the silk-covered walls and the gilded furniture felt like a cage closing in on him, making it hard to breathe. Tears of anger and frustration stung his eyes, and they fuelled the flame of his rage even more. He was a prince, and old enough to be Emperor, for God's sake, yet here he was, crying like a little boy being scolded by his mama! He stumbled outside, made his way to the stables, and shouted at the grooms to saddle a horse for him. He needed to get away from the palace, away from the court and its scheming, sycophantic courtiers, away from his mother and the chain she put around him. He urged the horse into a gallop and headed toward the woods that surrounded Tsarskoye Selo.

Paul didn't know how long or how far he'd ridden, when he suddenly became aware of the quietness of his surroundings. The birches, oaks, and lindens formed a green, whispering dome over his head, while thick growth underfoot muffled even the sound of the horse's hooves. He slowed the horse to a walk and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Even in this tranquil forest, his rage refused to subside.

If only she would die! Women her age and even younger were dropping dead every day. Why, even the Empress Elizabeth had died when she was not much older than his mother, yet his mother insisted on staying alive and being in the best of health, as though to spite him. When Paul was younger, he would have been ashamed and frightened of having such violent, vitriolic thoughts about his own mother, but now, he no longer bothered to keep them in check and even took a grim satisfaction from them.

A rustling sound, louder and more erratic than the swishing of the leaves, momentarily distracted him from those dark thoughts. He went around a thick grove of lindens and saw what was making the noise.

It was a bird, stuck in a bramble bush. It wasn't very big, about the size of a magpie, and appeared to be injured. One of its wings hung stiffly by its side, and it kept trying to lift itself out of the tangle of vines and thorns, to no avail.

But the bird's plight wasn't what drew Paul's attention—it was its plumage, the strangest and most magnificent he had ever seen, all shades of iridescent red and gold, glowing like a fireball in the last rays of the sun that speared through the trees. Its graceful tail feathers fluttered behind it like tongues of flame every time it made yet another futile leap over the bush. Yet, oddly enough, other than the flapping of its wings, the bird made no sound. There was none of the distressed twittering or cries that an animal would make in the same circumstances.

An unearthly feeling settled over Paul as he watched that ethereal bird. Half-forgotten memories of his childhood came trickling back, those long winter nights when he couldn't sleep and left his nursery—he didn't exactly have to sneak out, since none of his nurses and governesses paid any attention to him anyway—in search of the old Fool, who could always be found wandering the corridors of the palace at all hours. The Fool was the only one who treated Paul as a child and not a prince. "Well, what do you want, boy?" he would ask upon seeing Paul's forlorn face peeping out from behind a marble column.

"A story," Paul would reply.

"A story? Let's see now... Did I ever tell you about Little Bear's Son?"

And Paul would let himself get lost in the story until he fell asleep somewhere. He'd never gotten reprimanded for leaving his bed at night, because once the servants found out what he had been doing, they simply locked the door to the nursery. No more midnight fairy tales. No more fairy tales altogether.

Now, looking at the bird, Paul felt the same way he had while listening to the old Fool's stories. His anger and worries about his mother and the throne melted like ice under the sun, leaving only a childlike desire to capture that beauty, not to possess it, but only to hold it for a moment, to convince himself that it was real.

Cautious not to make any sudden movement or sound, he climbed down from the saddle and approached the bramble bush, thankful that the luxuriant summer grass and fallen leaves of many winters past were rendering his tread noiseless on the forest floor. The bird, still desperate to escape its thorny prison, seemed to take no notice of him. This close, Paul realized it was indeed injured—blood was still dripping from a wound on its wing, staining the gold feathers red, though it was from the thorns or something else, he did not know. Slowly, slowly, not daring to even breathe, he reached out, pulling the brambles back with one hand. The thorns were so sharp he could feel them through his kid gloves, but he ignored them. Gently pushing the brambles out of the way, he grabbed for the bird with his other hand.

There!

His hand closed around the feathered body, which was surprisingly hot to the touch, a fire that seeped through his glove, all the way to his bones. Bewildered, Paul looked more closely at his catch and noticed that its eyes, instead of being small and beady like most birds', were rather large and human-looking, except they were golden, like an eagle's. Before he could contemplate this oddity, however, the bird screeched—a horribly humanlike sound it was too—and the fire from its body was no longer warming but scorching. With a startled yelp, Paul loosened his fingers, and the bird, now free of the brambles, dove straight into his face, its good wing hitting him in the eye, blinding him, and, with a wriggle, freed itself from his hand, leaving behind only a tail feather.

When Paul's eyes cleared, he saw that the bird was a mere flash of gold amongst the trees, almost disappearing into the sunset. The feather in his hand gleamed and shimmered like gold, its heat still palpable even through his glove. There were some scorch marks on the glove where the bird had burned him, and a few drops of blood as well.

Tucking the feather into an inner pocket of his coat, he jumped back on the saddle and spurred the horse forward. Like a child who would happily sustain scratches and bruises while climbing over rocks and wading through streams to run after a beautiful butterfly, there was no thought in his mind but the chase. Far from deterring him, those scorch marks only made him long to feel that strange fire in his palm again. He couldn't explain why that yearning was so strong; he didn't even stop to think about it. He simply gave chase.

Through trees and bushes, heedless of the branches that stung as they snapped across his face, heedless of the violent bumping and jostling of the gallop, over shallow brooks and swamps that sucked at the horse's hooves, Paul kept after the firebird. The bird flew with astonishing speed, and only the injured wing kept it within Paul's sight, as it flitted, mockingly, through the green vault that surrounded him, always ahead but only just, always a finger's tip out of his reach.

A grove of silver birches rose before him, rows after rows of ruler-straight, snow-white columns, new leaves turning darker green in the gathering dusk. The bird flew through two birches growing close together, their crooked trunks twisting away from each other while their branches met overhead, forming an arch. The flash of gold winked in and out as the bird faltered and dipped, and Paul bent down until his face was almost pressed into the horse's neck, his heels dug into its flanks, his arm outstretched. Almost—almost—

The horse reared up with a frightened whinny, throwing Paul off the saddle.

The leaf-strewn forest floor softened his fall, but it did nothing for his temper. "Stupid beast!" he snarled, not noticing how the horse was nervously pawing the air in front of the crooked trees with its front legs, refusing to go through. He only saw that the bird was disappearing.

Without a look back, he leaped through the opening between the birches and ran after his quarry.

The bird seemed to be tiring. It dipped behind a thicket of saplings that grew on the edge of the grove, their roots covered by ferns and other undergrowth, and didn't come back up. Paul grinned. He got it cornered now.

The trees were thinner here. As he approached the thicket, he could glimpse a meadow just beyond, and hear the murmur of a nearby stream. The red glow at the edge of the world was fading into soft pink, turning the sky a bluish gray and throwing the forest into a shadowy twilight.

A brief glow seemed to emanate from the thicket and was gone in an instant, which Paul chalked up to a trick of the dying light. The bush rustled. The weary bird must have thought it could hide in there until it was safe to come out again. For a moment, Paul felt rather sorry for the poor creature, but his curiosity was stronger.

He leaned down and spread the foliage apart.

His jaw dropped.

There was no sign of the bird. Lying there, amongst the ferns and tall grass, was a girl.

Her long, red hair covered most of her body. Between the wavy tresses, he could glimpse a delicate shoulder blade, an arm bearing an angry wound that was still weeping blood, and bare legs curled up in exhaustion.

At the sound of his gasp, she lifted her head slightly and regarded him with a sullen eye. 

"What?" she said. "Have you never seen an undressed woman before?"

Chapter 2

A/N: I have no idea what "thrice-nine lands" and "thrice-ten kingdoms" mean. That's just how every Russian fairy tale begins.

The exchange between Empress Catherine and Paul was taken almost verbatim from Episode 2 of the show.

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