#ch: Cordelia

[buffysource]

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

3.05 | Homecoming

[cursedbeasts]

Ruling Council of Urum-13.

Left to right, top to bottom:

Cordelia, Fabricator Locum, the diplomat, and the source of Slaaneshi corruption

Aurelia Alpha-1-Omega, Fabricator General of Urum-13

Teyron, Magos Dominus. He thinks you have a skill issue.

Kassander, Lexico Arcanum, the prophet of data.

Karhu, Prime Genetor. For personal reasons he turned himself into the bear from Annihilation.

Maledicta, Secutor. Despite being plucked from her homeworld, she took to defending Urum and training its defenders quite well. She doesn't like Aurelia.

[spuffygifs]

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER  S2E3: School Hard | S3E9: The Wish

[celias]

Carstairs family, The Shadowhunter Chronicles

“You belong where you are loved.”

[cthylla-rlyeh]

OC Inspo- Tiffany Wagner

I OWN NONE OF THESE GIFS

[dreamerwithapen1]

Cordelia Dunlap

Death has followed Cordelia since she was a child, hovering over her shoulder, a constant unwelcome companion. A cold chill down her spine, a sharp tug in her gut, and she knew- someone nearby was dead. It was a horrible power to discover. One minute, she was standing in the crowd of mourners, holding her sister's hand, and in the next, she was gasping for air in a body that no longer needed it, staring at the inside of a locked coffin.

Needless to say, everyone in attendance at the funeral was traumatized that day. Cordelia- from inhabiting her great grandmother's corpse. And everyone else- from hearing screaming and rattling from inside the coffin containing a dead ninety-nine year old woman.

As the years went on, her power only continued to grow while her control over it remained shaky at best. It was a curse, a power that she hadn't asked for but that had been forced upon her by her parents. The only bright spot was her sister, Cate. The two of them were outcasts, despised by their parents, but at least they had each other... that is, until Indira Shetty walked into their small, isolated world with a kind smile and sympathetic eyes as beautiful, perfect promises left her lips.

Cate believed her. Cordelia didn't.

But she went along with it, allowing Dean Shetty to find a place for her at Godolkin University and gladly accepting the pills that dampened her powers. She was content to be a pawn in their games because it was easier to comply than to rebel.

Then she meets Golden Boy. And everything begins to fall apart.

Forever Tag: @darknightfrombeyond @arrthurpendragon @foxesandmagic @bravelittleflower @darkwolf76 @stareyedplanet @thophil2941btw

(Want to be added to my taglist? Send me an ask or message!)

[avoidingcertaindoom]

Whumptober Day 11, 12, 13

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE | Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don’t even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs) No. 12: STARVATION | Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | “Just a little more.” No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY | Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | “Death will do us part.” (Set It Off, Partner’s In Crime)

~

He hadn't been able to beat emergency services home. 

Jocelyn had complained about the distance. It had started when Cordelia was born and his paternity leave ran out, leaving her home with the baby and the help. She’d gone from excited to frantic quickly, asking him to cut the days shorter or cut out clients or stop the extended trips altogether. He had his domestic clients in Blaksala, they had it good here, why bother branching out elsewhere?

Even when he reminded her this was a good way to see what places would be safest to move to she argued. Why, it was safer not to move, safe and sound in the town she used to say felt suffocating. She couldn’t even justify it with an explanation, she simply changed her mind and that was that.

He wished he’d argued more.

The crew that was still working on his home directed him to the hospital the ambulance had gone to, and he had yet more obstacles after arriving there. 

“Oh, we’re just waiting on Lady Tilde.”

“I’m her father.”

“Yes, but with the scene described--”

“I’m her father. I’m going to see her.”

“It may not be safe--”

If one more person leveraged safety in the name of blocking him from parenting his daughter--

They finally relented, leading him to an overly guarded isolation room. They were still waiting on answers, they said, the situation was evolving, they said, they said a lot of things that didn’t matter while he was still in the dark on things. That was the other thing he’d wished to leave behind, how the vampires were so insular they only knew to balk when an “outsider” was involved in their little world.

There had been such a rush to find space that they’d yanked the second bed out of a double room, leaving her on the far side. Maybe it was the size of the room and the equipment, all made in scale for adults. Maybe it was just the way she was curled in on herself. Either way, it broke his heart to see her look so small.

“Delia?”

He almost thought she was asleep until she found her way out of the blankets, eyelids heavy as they looked his way. Her hair was damp and tangled from whoever had cleaned the dirt and dust off of her, and he noticed uneasily that the formerly thin strip of white that fell over her left temple had expanded, some white edging her eyebrow and eyelashes. Her eyes were glassy and almost grey rather than the jewel tone green she usually shared with her mother. Even her lips were patchy and raw where her fangs scraped over them.

“‘S it late already? Did you see mum?” 

“No darling, I left work early to see you.” He tried to smooth the hair out of her face, resisting a wince at how ice cold her skin felt. “I tried to get here as soon as I could.”

She mumbled something and tried to push herself up in the bed, only to slip and land hard on the pillow. She stopped and stared towards the foot of the bed with a disgruntled frown, not understanding why her legs weren’t cooperating. “What’s wrong with my bed?”

“We’re at the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

“Had a bad dream. Where’s mum?”

His heart was still trying to find its way lower than the pit of his stomach, and he shook his head. “She’s not here yet. Do you want something to drink?”

“No.” It was the fastest response she’d managed since he walked in, and ice cold fear broke through the anesthetic stupor she’d fallen under. “No more. No more--”

“You don’t have to,” he clarified, reaching out to touch her hand. He would have held it, but the thick white bandage around her wrist made him second guess that. “They told me you were sick on the ride here, and I thought you’d like something to clear your throat.”

She shook her head frantically. “Wanna see mum, where’s mum?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry.” He squeezed her fingers gently, trying to calm her down. 

It wasn’t working, and she was starting to hyperventilate, eyes screwed shut while tears were tracking down her pale cheeks. “I want my mum, I want my mum!”

A couple nurses had slipped in, lingering by the door before finally coming over. Neither of them helped in any way of comfort, one tried to hold her still before she hurt herself while the other injected something into the port of her IV line.

Delia slowly stopped thrashing and eventually went limp on the bed, breathing shallowly. She curled back up on her side while Reo spoke in a low voice, apologetic and promising he’d be there when she woke up and humming an old lullaby until she finally fell asleep.

“Someone outside wants to speak with you, Mr. Lindquist” the nurse informed while she discarded the syringe.

“It can wait.” He would have to step out sometime, make a few calls to arrange things while he waited for his daughter to be well enough to avoid sedation. For now though--

“It’s important.”

“What could possibly be more important than being here?” He snapped, turning to glare at her. 

The young woman flinched, and turned to avoid his gaze. “It is in regards to the attack--no one was there besides your wife and daughter, someone needs to answer some questions.”

The inclination was there to ignore her, but there was that implication again. Something that he should, no, would know if he were really one of them. He sighed and stood, leaving his coat draped over her like an extra blanket for comfort before finally following them out.

Tilde was there, of course, ever talented at whittling her way into places she ought not to be. She and the social worker had been in the middle of conversation when he walked in, but the older woman fell silent and watched him with poorly hidden irritation as he nodded his greeting and sat in the free chair.

“Alec,” She sniffed, eyes red as she stood up from her seat. “I was just leaving anyway.”

As if she was wanted anyhow. For the sake of civility he bade her farewell before Reo turned to the worker. “You wanted to ask me some things?”

“Yes. Lady Cullen was kind enough to fill in some of the blanks, but I wanted to be sure we were all on the same page. Can you tell us how you left them this morning?”

This morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago already, but it really was this morning. “It wasn’t anything special. The maid had the day off, so it was just going to be Jocelyn and Delia together all day. As far as I know they didn’t plan to leave the house or even have company.”

“Did either of them seem… odd to you?”

“In what sense?” It was a normal morning, even a good one. Delia was all questions, the picture of curiosity and pleading to come along on a work trip. Jocelyn had bribed her away from the subject by convincing her to help for dinner and promising her she could stand up on a chair and help her with the stove.

The worker shifted. “How much did you hear about what occurred this evening?”

“I heard there were attacks, and my…” He swallowed. “And Jocelyn didn’t make it. They found Delia outside.”

“They were the only two found, period. Cordelia was found outside, covered in blood, and biting at her own arm because she couldn’t move from where she fell. Jocelyn was found inside, completely bloodless.”

He didn’t think it was so far of an assumption that Delia had run away, or at least tried and didn’t get far. If another vampire had attacked though, and an Elder one at that, even he couldn’t have been sure of how they could have ignored her with all of her injuries. “Weren’t there signs of a break in?”

“Yes, but no trace of anyone else in the house.” The social worker fidgeted with a pen.

Reo frowned. “What are you trying to suggest?”

“I only mean to say, what with the level of trauma she’s exhibiting--”

“No, don’t dance around the point.”

“Mr. Lindquist. This is a stressful situation I am sure, but we can’t ignore the possibility that--”

“That my seven year old daughter got frenzied and killed her own mother?” He pushed off the seat. “I don’t care to humour an idea so ridiculous when you can see for yourself that it is false.”

They held up their hands defensively. “I don't mean to sound so accusatory. We are aware she might have turned already, but we weren't sure if there might have been signs from your ancestry that could delay it.”

“My ancestry has nothing to do with--” he stopped short, thinking. Remembering the clouds of dust the technicians had mentioned while he was home, and the way the small white streak had spread through the black hair they shared.

The social worker leaned forward, seeming to think he was coming around to the theory. “Did you think of something?”

“I think I'm going to go stay with my daughter, and I'd appreciate it if you made sure no one was to speak with her without me. Especially if they're going to share stupid ideas such as this.” 

He didn't wait for a response and stormed out of the office, ignoring the stares drawn by his outburst.

His eyes were burning, and he forced himself not to do much more than blinking to keep anything at bay before he was standing outside the hospital room. 

He should've told Jocelyn they needed to leave. He should've insisted on hiring someone to keep an eye on them in his absence. He should've done so many things to prevent something like this from happening--

It had been lifetimes since he'd felt this helpless.

[motownfiction]

blossoming hope

Charlie signs the bill after lunch with Cordelia. He’s not sure how long it’s been since the two of them have gone out together like this, but Cordelia was probably still in junior high. That was around the time she realized she didn’t have to spend time with him if she didn’t want to, so she didn’t. Ever since, their relationship has been hostile, cordial, frozen … anything but good.

But over the past few months, things have been different. There’s been a blossoming hope for father and daughter. When Charlie started therapy, his doctor told him to see how he could reach his kids, especially Cordelia. She might not be a kid anymore, but she’s still young, still hardly into her thirties. It’s never too late to remind your firstborn you love her.

That’s what Charlie’s doctor said, anyway. That he could remind her, that she could listen, but that didn’t mean she would accept him. And in fact, Charlie was pretty sure she wouldn’t. That she might take his phone call, wish him well, and never contact him again. But she didn’t. She said, Let’s meet at the diner we always used to go to, Dad. And that was already three and a half months ago.

Charlie’s not stupid. He knows why Cordelia wanted him gone before. But not fighting for her … that’s the dumbest thing he’s ever done. Assuming that love could tap out … that they were beyond redemption, either of them … he’s never been so stupid.

And Cordelia has never been so wonderful. Gregarious, funny, and talented. So unlike Charlie, who still often lives behind a shell (a shell that Elenore is trying desperately to shatter once and for all, to varying degrees of success). Cordelia has a deep laugh that starts out high, that can shake a whole room. It’s a laugh she learned from Sam. Maybe one day, when he feels more up to it, Charlie can apologize to Cordelia for making Sam drive that car on Christmas more than twenty years ago … for taking her uncle away from her … from taking him away from everyone.

But his doctor says a few steps at a time. That’s the best.

“So, Dad?” Cordelia asks. “When can we do this again?”

Charlie’s not sure if he’s ever been this happy. This proud. This … everything.

“Whenever works for you,” he says. “I am completely open.”

(part of @nosebleedclub march challenge -- day 1! i know i am so woefully behind, but i'm going to catch up)

[accurseds]

@mischiefxmuses | starter for cordelia goode & michael langdon

miss robichaux's academy still stands despite having once been turned to ash and rubble along with the rest of the world — and if it remains, michael hasn't a doubt that the coven's supreme also endures. as this version of the academy holds no wards to prevent his entry, he places a knock upon its door, awaiting to see that damned undying face and ensure that in this world, she may finally no longer serve any threat.

[existentialflirt]

She really did try not to be a victim, but it was hard to be a human in a world full of monsters. Growing up on the Hellmouth had made her a bit more resilient than most. For example, she knew not to wander around at night alone in high heels. It had been a long time since she'd lived in heels, though. These days she preferred flats and sneakers. They were easier to run in.

Like now. She'd gotten a rare prescient vision and had been able to identify the group of vampires lurking about an alley near the convenience store store she'd been heading toward. So much for getting a box of rosé and staying in to watch shitty rom coms that got problematic by the year. Cordy crossed the street but they must of scented her, vamps were freaky like that, and began to follow. A brisk walk became a light jog, turned into a sprint. She wondered why they weren't running after her after a block and dared to look behind her.

Someone was fighting the group. Not Angel, not even Wes. From her viewpoint, she saw a whirlwind of feet and fists. Definitely a Slayer. Buffy? Cordy frowned. Usually it was a bit fucking deal when she came to L.A., mostly to brace Angel or keep him away, and she hadn't gotten a call from any of the Sccobs that Buffy would be visiting the city.

When the dust had literally settled, Cordy's curiosity turned to irritation as she walked back toward the dark haired woman who was brushing streaks of vampire ash off her leather pants. (She rolled her eyes. Honestly, who wore leather pants anymore? Well, she supposed, Faith did.)

"I don't mean to be ungrateful or whatever, but what the hell are you doing here?" She cast a vaguely disapproving look over her outfit. Unfortunately, having a dire sense of fashion looked really good on her.

for @wickedlehane 💗Cordy

[devilsmenu]

@rainbowmuses - Cornelia & Guwon

"Have you ever felt like something is missing? Or maybe like... someone? I can't explain it, it's like a strange feeling like I miss someone but I don't know who it is" Guwon asked the other with a slight frown. He didn't cared about humans, so what was that feeling? And why he was talking with a human about it? He must be going insane. But the burn sensation in his ring said otherwise.

[buffysource]

God, I could eat a horse!

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

3.03 | Faith, Hope & Trick

[uriagii]

i’m so excited to see alastair again! it’s been so long i miss him

[whispercddesires]

[byronlc]

✧ Cordy and Angel

@entangledmuses

send me a ✧ and i’ll bold all that apply to your muse.

I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ You intimidate me. ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧   I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧  I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).

[avoidingcertaindoom]

Whumtober Day 6

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY’RE INJURED Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | “It’s not my blood.”

~~~

Garreth had offered her a lift home, but Delia was already exhausted. She’d been on her feet all day, and hadn’t even gotten to do any inking in her hours on end at the shop. What was the point of swallowing her pride and being pawed at just for a faster trip home?

Thankfully she’d beaten her father there, and ensured everything at the business entrances was settled before she went up to the apartment. The joints in her prosthetic leg groaned as she trudged up the stairs, and she tuned it out as she wondered if she had time for a drink before dinner.

When she got to her room and started out of her day clothes, her leg didn’t want to cooperate.

She frowned and inspected it. Maybe it was a little more snug than usual, but it was a couple years old. She hadn’t grown that much in that time, it shouldn’t have been so tight.

Not wanting to add insult to injury, she tried wiggling a finger between the metal and the sleeve to loosen it that way. It was warm in there, and moist, which in itself wasn’t altogether surprising, but the dampness did not feel like sweat. When she removed her finger, it came away dark, dark red.

She took a deep breath and much, much more gently took hold of the sleeve to pull it down by the edges, lifting her partial limb away from it for good measure. The fabric clung to her skin almost as much as the closure to the prosthetic did, but a couple good tugs and it finally tore free, leaving the prosthetic to do the same and hit the floor with a loud thump.

The tearing was literal. The stump of her leg was swollen, covered in scabby, slow bleeding sores. The sleeve was stained and crusted with blood, looking to have glued itself to the prosthetic and her leg all at once until she’d ripped it free. 

Delia didn’t know if she was going to throw up or sob. She hadn’t even felt it--how would she, the nerves that went that way were dead? 

Before either response could win out, her phone rang. Her father’s ringtone. She swallowed back whatever was trying to erupt from her through and picked up, answering in her best attempt at boredom. “Hello?”

“I’m so sorry I’m late sweetheart, I should be home soon.” As expected of a late night at work, he sounded tired. Even more worn out than she felt herself.

She couldn’t put this on him and give him another thing to add to his stress. She had to get herself patched up and clean or hide everything before he could see. “That’s no problem! I just…” She racked her brain. “En’s car broke down and Nia had to drive out for both of us, so I’m just getting home anyway. I don’t think I’ll have time to cook, do you think you could stop for takeaway?” 

“That’s no problem. Any suggestions?”

“Anything but pizza, please. Love you!”

“Love you too. I’ll see you soon.”

The call ended, and she stared down at her stump again. The skin between the sores wad a raw, angry red, and she could almost from this angle make out scarring from the last time this had happened.

Last time. How many did that make? She really had to try and figure out solutions for this nonsense.