#he's mourning the innocent person he can no longer be because of what god did to him

[bloodymarymorstan]

OMG I just realized.... Crowley's always the one telling Aziraphale that he shouldn't trust Heaven and that he's naïve for not seeing how bad they are, etc. but in the s2 opening scene it's the exact opposite! Crowley's not trying to be rebellious, he just wants to ask a few harmless questions and the reason he feels like he can do that is because he TRUSTS that God won't hurt him. He actually starts out believing in the goodness of God more than Aziraphale does, and Aziraphale is the realist telling him to stay away from Her so he doesn't get himself into trouble. Crowley was actually more innocent than any of them, and the betrayal of being cast out just for wanting to help make things better traumatized him so much that now he can't ever trust anyone again.

[sunfish5149]

After rewatching round 6 for the nth time I just realized Till Win is reflected in Ivan's blood and OH. MY BMFUCCKIGBGOOOODDDD I HATE THEM I HATE THEM O HATE TJEM they could never make me hate you ivan.

Till standing next to Ivan while his body is still cooling feels awfully a lot like how a person would mourn at their loved one's grave, but I think that there's a lot more going on inside Till's head, and this just saddens me. I would crumble personally if I was him, because to me, Ivan's death also feels like a slap to the face I guess? Because until now his crush on Mizi allowed him to be selfish, to believe that once she was gone, he would be left all alone. He gave up his will to live, accepted defeat without further struggle, because he idolized and idealized Mizi to a point where his whole life depended on her existence. Perhaps he does have a crush on Mizi, but I fully believe that it partly stems from the love and adoration he saw Mizi offer to Sua, almost like "what if I could have that too?". He could not bear to part with the love and salvation he saw within Mizi, to the point where he gave away his freedom just to be near her, just for the chance that maybe he'd finally know what it feels like to be wanted, to be loved. He selfishly cut away at all the bad parts in this picture that he did not want to see, the worthless parts, the painful ones, the suffering he has endured at the hands of his captors, and ended up cutting away at the people that might've cared for him, that still do, until nothing but Mizi remained, who he foolishly believed to be able to offer him what he so desperately wanted. He made himself believe that he was alone, up until he truly, truly was. Until when can a man doggedly chase after one person until the death of what I dare call " the closest thing to family he has ever had" drop like flies around him? Round 6 offers us an answer.

I believe that part of the reason why he stood there as Ivan bled out is him processing that someone actually cared about him, loved the parts of Till that he saw to be loveless. It also feels like a wake-up call, the cut up picture that he has constructed his life around has finally been proven as the lie it is. He can no longer be selfish enough to close his eyes on reality, on his obsessive idealization for someone who will never, who cannot save him, on the fact that Mizi already loves somebody else so dearly, because the love he was searching for in someone, to be returned, was right next to him all along.

Too bad he only noticed Ivan when he was bleeding out at his feet. This is the closest thing to salvation Till will ever get from someone, to love so dearly one would give away their life without hesitation, to throw away their freedom, to not cut away at the corners of this picture, but to see it and love it and do everything to preserve it. Should Till look at such a picture, he would find the pieces of paper he has cut of himself which he believed to be loveless, reflected back at him in that puddle of blood. (I wrote this part fully relying on the muscle memory of my keyboard because my tears were deeply obstructing my vision)

This sacrifice will either ruin Till or give him motivation to live and the tenacity to fight back and free himself from the prison he has willingly walked in, and to finally accept that Mizi is a lesbiab and a ferocious grieving woman kisser. oh my god.

Edit: I JUST REALIZED MIZI ALSO IDOLIZES SUA THE SAME WAY TILL DOES WITH MIZI I HATE THEM I HATE TJEM J HATWHENM

Edit 2: this rant is lowkey outdated because first of all, I feel like I insulted Till's love for Mizi. Just as Ivan loved Till for his tenacity and fighting spirit, and whatever else he saw in that wet cat of a man, so did Till love Mizi, for her innocent happiness and love that poured out of her. She was the only one out of them who was blissfully unaware to the pain and suffering of the humans, and the shit the aliens put the rest through, the fact that Till was attracted to her partly because of that makes me feel miserable. I do wonder what he will think, should he survive and see just how much Mizi has changed, how she has grown to fight for what she wants to protect.

I also feel that I have underestimated Till's relation to Ivan, he truly did care for him, Ivan was just too cryptic to express himself

[babyrdie]

Deidamia has so much angst potential

Yes, she does!

Deidamia was just a girl who was most likely sheltered, considering her father only had daughters. Her mother is never present in the myths, I wouldn't be surprised if her mother was either dead or not a present figure. She probably spent her days without many worries, having a princess education and then spending the day having fun with her sisters (as, for example, Philostratus describes). And then she had feelings for this new girl Phyrra, and she probably felt horrible about it because it was definitely not well regarded (something similar to the poem attributed to Bion of Smyrna). But the girl wasn't even a girl, and so Deidamia was in love with someone she didn't really know as much as she thought she did. And they were two very young people without proper supervision and now she's pregnant (Deidamia even took a while to realize this in Euripides' version), but she's just a girl and this child isn't even a child of the marriage. And now she's being forced to grow up fast, because she has to be the mother of this unplanned child. And not only that, but the father is leaving because glory is more important to him than her or their child. Achilles will become a man through the glory of war, she will become a woman through motherhood. And they're trapped in these gender roles and they will never see each other again because his destiny is to die in Troy.

She raises this child as a single mother, although at least she has support (father, sisters, maybe Thetis). We never really get her point of view…how is she viewed because of this? In some versions, Achilles marries her, but in others he doesn't. How is she viewed because she's a princess who got pregnant before marriage by a boy who didn't even marry her and who will never come back? At first, did people even believe the story that the father was the famous prophesied son of a goddess? Phyrrus is so sweet, playing with the shepherds' children, having fun with his innocent toys and he will never be like his father, a boy who gave up the opportunity of a home for the opportunity of war (inspired by Philostratus and Quintus of Smyrna). But then the news that Achilles has died comes and Deidamia is mourning, but she is mourning a person she hasn't seen in years. A person she last saw as a boy, who now that he is dead is a man. Maybe her memories of him don't even match up with what he is like now, but she will never get to know that. She doesn't even have much time to mourn, because soon the same men who took Achilles are demanding her son. They took the man who was supposed to be her husband, and now they're taking her son. And no matter how much she or Lycomedes try to stop them, Phyrrus is too seduced by following the ghost of a father he never knew and who his mother probably doesn't even know anymore. And then her son goes away, and perhaps like his father he will not return. Like his father he will die young in a foreign land because the seductive glow of glory has taken over his senses.

But he doesn't die in a foreign land like his father, he is alive. But he isn't Phyrrus, he is Neoptolemus. He is no longer the child who played with toys and shepherds' children, he is the person who chased the elderly king of Troy into a temple of Zeus and killed him without mercy or respect for the gods. He is alive, yes, but Deidamia doesn't really have her son back. And so either we don't know Deidamia's fate or, as in Pseudo-Apollodorus' version, she is married to Helenus. She is then married to this man whose home was destroyed by both Achilles and Neoptolemus. And maybe she loves Helenus, but she also loves Achilles and Neoptolemus. And how can she deal with that? How can she love Achilles and still mourn him, if the person who was in Skyros no longer has the personality of the person who died in Troy? How can she be happy that her little boy has returned, if he is not even her little boy anymore? At least, not in personality. And how can she rejoice that Neoptolemus is alive, if for that Helenus had to lose his home and the people he loved?

And then Neoptolemus is dead, and she is sad. At the same time, she cannot want Helenus to share this grief. He has a right not to feel this way. And Andromache arrives in Epirus and Deidamia has to face directly the consequences of what Neoptolemus did, while thinking about how Achilles must have done similar things. And Andromache and Helenus have a connection that Deidamia will never understand, she can never truly know what it's like to be in their situation. She can only learn to face the fact that you loving someone doesn't make them inherently good to others. Helenus is taken by the presence of Apollo when he prophesies and she just has to learn to deal with the presence of this god, the same god who killed her son and her son's father. But, having lived with Helenus and Andromache, can she really find their deaths entirely unjust? She's still sad, of course, but can she really throw her hands up to the heavens and scream that it's injustice?

In a way, I think Deidamia is a good representation of what it was like to be a woman, although it is more specifically the reality of a princess. She has to deal with being an innocent girl, she has to deal with thinking about the possibility of liking another girl, she has to deal with the idea of ​​sneaking around with a boy, she has to deal with an unplanned pregnancy, she has to deal with being abandoned by the man who was supposed to be her husband, she has to raise her son without a husband while constantly thinking that her son's father is going to die, she has to find out that her son's father really is dead, she has to watch her son go to the same fate, she has to deal with the anxiety that he doesn't come back, she has to deal with the relief of seeing her son again and the loss of him not being the same anymore, she has to deal with the consequences of the actions of the men she loves on the lives of other people she has grown to love. And most of this happens while she is on the island, looking at the sea and thinking that this is the same sea that Achilles and Neoptolemus set out on for a distant land. At least, that's how I interpret her situation.

She has SO much potential, but people ignore her potential. Most of the time, Deidamia is just used to say something about Achilles and Patroclus' relationship. It's really sad.

[kiitoskiitos]

what did you think of quackity’s final lore stream omg!! i know you’ve been busy so get back to this ask whenever you can!

<3 <3 <3 <3

cc!quackity did an incredible job, his passion and dedication is intoxicating. hearing him shyly yet so excitedly address chat after an emotionally heavy creative project like that is one of the best things in the world. simping, parasocially obsessing, maybe a little horny grip, you name it, i do it.

thoughts-vice it took me a while to process this lore stream actually. i get too lost on how annoying big-bad-dream plotpoints are even if this time it was fully justified (it does work since dreams need for revenge is based in quackity's horrible actions, it's one part of the massive house of cards now falling on Q).

As it often is for me, only the writings and reactions i read here on tumblr actually end up solidifying how i feel. This piece is incredible.

I do respect the concept of Slimecicle being just an embodiment of everything wrong with Quackity's hardened cruel current personality and actions finally catching up to him and ending him. But I've mostly seen slime as way more independent and emotionally mature, hiding an immerse character behind his "malleable" form. So I think he kills Quackity out of empathy in the end. He realises nothing less severe than death will be able to change Quackity. Even Slime's own death couldn't do it, actually only hardening the dis-illusion and trauma coping mechanisms, as seen in the way Q creates the slime army (i'll be real this was a bit too silly for me at first. mcrp, never change. bless up.) mixing the way his self worth is tied to his accomplishments (he needs for las nevadas to succeed) to his unresolved mourning for his dead friend (he isn't thinking clearly, he's literally recreating zombie version of slimecicle). this is not hot girl behavior. your employees are feeling very awkward rn. (also love the way people pointed out that foolish doesn't confront quackity in any point no matter how wild he goes, since they are not real friends, he's only there due to manipulation and business.)

(and i think there is obviously the compicated way the slime and Q relationship was.... not good. i still don't know how to view it. did quackity truly have someone he treated as an equal and trusted, or did he see slime as someone trust worthy only because he was, in his eyes, innocent and controllable. I think it is very fresh for slime to kill him, it's a clear switch of powerbalance between them -> at least in quackity's eyes, since i see that slime has always had way more self control and choice among the two of them aka power)

god, im so happy how this ended. i was fearing it would end in either only punishment and crucification or acceleration of greed and power. but these creators truly love their characters so much, its beautiful. Quackity going around and apologising, both for his own sake and others. HOT GIRL MOMENT!!!

also, i genuinely adored the scene between ranboo and mexican dream. they really went to limbo just to perform a boke and tsukkomi routine. though i don't even know which one is which because ranboo is the one being ridiculous tbh. Just truly... the visuals in that scene, the ways they both cope with being there, how neither's way is better, ranboo's "acceptance" which grants him no clarity or peace, Mexican dream's fragile denial which however makes him more versatile in this situation. It is probably one of my all time favorite scenes from dsmp. wanted it to last for way longer and it wont leave my head :D

[thewheezingwyvern]

Heres a challenge. Pixie/fairy Dabi, or even angel dabi! Something uncharacteristic for his personality xD

Oooh Nons lemme tell you I had a blast with this one. Tickled my brain just write that I was able to just bang this out in a few hours. Gotta give a shout out to @trafalgar-temptress for  helping me brainstorm on this. Really helped me get my creative juices flowing juuuuuuuuust right.

ℍ𝕒𝕚𝕝 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪

Yandere!Angel!Dabi x F!Reader

Kinks/Warnings: Noncon (implied and groping), imprisonment, kidnapping, nudity

As you can see by the warnings this is dark adult content. Minors DNI.

The first time you had ever seen him, it was next to Shouto and the most striking thing about him was his eyes. Brilliant hued sapphires that were more vivid than the sky. Ethereal almost. But every time thereafter they seemed to glow a little brighter. A little darker. A little less holy in their shine. They were almost too much to look at, blinding as they were bathed in sacred light. Shouto especially. Even his feathers shone almost like mirrors catching and magnifying the moon’s rays until they were searing.

But Touya, his light was more muted. Still bright but easier for your eyes to handle. That should have been a sign to you, for the easier an angel is to look at, the farther from grace he has become. And Shouto’s older brother became easier and easier to watch with every passing meeting. By the time you learned the truth about him it was already far too late.

The first time he saw you, it was hatred that pulsed through him. Always the favored one, you were just one more pretty thing that his brother got to have. Another way that Shouto was “better” than him. Thoughts of murder curled in the front of his mind, watching your broken mortal body fracture beneath his rage until you were nothing but a splintered wreck for Shouto to see. Until he noticed that you looked at him far more than his perfect sibling. That was the single drop of poison that bloomed in the wine, steeping him in more greed, lust and envy than he had ever tasted before.

In a way, you were the final shove to Touya’s fall.

The crashing sound of tumultuous waves against a rocky face was the first thing to greet you when you woke. Brine and breeze drifted in and wrapped around your prone form huddled under a thin blanket. The air was filled with a moan, a mournful howl that seemed to be crying for you as you stirred. You were no longer at home in the safety of your own bed, that was apparent when you drew more into consciousness and found yourself curled on a pile of thick pillows. But the detail that struck to your heart that you weren’t home was what you saw first.

Golden bars inlaid with pearl. 

They wove intricately into a gorgeous dome, twisting into a cage to keep you confined as the ocean crashed in the background. Beyond the confines of your prison you could see the open mouth of a cave that you had been tucked away into, one that opened out to face the wide open sea. Even from your spot tucked back in the corner you could tell that it was far too high for you to risk jumping even if you did manage to escape your cage. Your prison should have been a dank, dark and wet place but there were braziers placed in various nooks, burning with holy fire to help sheath the cave in a warmth that kept it cozy.

Lanterns were strung into the roof, also flickering with sacred fire to help ward off the damp. There was even some chairs, a plush rug and an exquisite tapestry strung up on the far rocky wall. Had you not been locked up, silver shackles also twisted around your ankles to further trap you, you might have enjoyed this space as a little hide away from the world. There wasn’t much to do since you were alone and the cage was far too strong for you to force open on your own. So all you could do was wait.

When the sun was sinking beyond the line of the horizon, Touya finally appeared. A dark glee curled in his chest when he saw the sheer look of relief that washed over your face when you caught sight of him. Already he could taste the hope bursting from you, a sweet little treat for him to savor before he got to rip it from your grasping hands. You collapsed against the cage, fingers wrapping against the bars as you peered out at him with teary eyes.

“Touya, I’m so happy it’s you! I don’t know how I got here but I’m glad you found me! You have to get me out of here.”

“Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll let you out.”

Hope was also the thing that blinded you from the wicked glow in his eyes, the slow lap of his tongue across his lips at the thought of you realizing far too late that you were trapped by him when he held you against him. Relief was the next thing that blinded you when he unlocked the cage, completely glossing over the detail that he had the key in his pocket. Touya folded you up into his arms when you collapsed against his chest, sobs wracking your body, feathered wings arching to cover you. 

“Shouto must be worried sick!” you muttered into his chest, “How long have I been gone?”

“Two days. He’s losing his mind right now.”

Your face was buried into his chest so you couldn’t see the razor grin that had split across his gorgeous face. For good measure, he cupped a hand to the back of your head, murmuring soft comforting words to you as you quaked in his arms. It was important he savored this. It was going to be the last time for a long while before you would willingly touch him again. 

“Please take me home…”

Touya chuckled darkly, “Awww you don’t like it here?”

He watched you lift your tear stained face up, staring up at him with bewildered eyes. A thumb swiped gently at the stroke of your cheekbones before hooking down to trail along your jaw. Confusion mottled your expression before the first prick of fear flickered in your eyes. The way your mouth hung open made him want to kiss you breathless, crush you to him until you were pounding at his chest to let you go and even then go further.

“No! Why would I want to stay here in a cage?!”

“But you look so pretty in there, Dollface.”

The dark angel captured your wrists in his hands as you started to back away from him, hauling you closer. Fear burst even brighter in your eyes, your whole form quaking in his grasp. The sight made his cock twitch, breath panting ragged from his lips as you squirmed.

“T-Touya? This isn’t funny! Take me home.”

“Sorry babes. This is your home now.” the way all the hope withered in your eyes when you realized he was your captor had his blood running hot, “Poor little Shouto is just going to have to do without.”

Touya dipped his dark head down before he started leaving scorching hot kisses to your exposed neck. You trembled and thrashed but you just did not have the strength to break free of him. Just how he liked it. Roughly he whipped you around and pulled you back to chest against him, hooking his left arm around your arms to imprison them behind your back. A whimper escaped you as his free hand closed over your neck in a warning grip before sliding slowly down towards your collarbones.

“St-stop it! Touya, please!”

“God’s not here, sweetheart. So you don’t have to pretend to be so pure and innocent now. I saw the way you kept your eyes on me more than Shouto. He was too bright. Too pure for you to handle. Fact is, you craved a bit of darkness didn’t you?” he whispered wickedly into your ear, a hand groping at your right breast through the silky shift you were clad in, “My brother doesn’t deserve you and I’ve decided that I’m going to keep you. You’re mine now.”

A finger and thumb pinched your nipple through the silken fabric, pulling a choked cry from your throat. A rock hard cock rutted against the curve of your backside, summoning up his own groan of pleasure. At first he had wanted to steal you away from perfect little Shouto, the shining son, out of spite. To take away one of the things he wanted the most and wreck you. But the more time went on, the more Touya wanted you for himself. Why break such a delicious creature when he could just take you and keep you? It would stroke the wicked green eyed devil that had started to grow within his chest and also lash out the prodigal son.

“Touya please don’t do this!” you begged, a loud moan escaping you when his hand shot down to rub against your clit, “Ah-! Please! I-I won’t tell anyone if you let me go-”

The sounds of your begging unleashed a clash of emotions in him. On the one hand, hearing your voice break and plead him made his dick twitch against the curve of your ass. It was a delicious little sound and he wanted to hear more from you. But it also sparked a deep rage in him. Touya went through all of this trouble, stealing some of Heaven’s prized metal work to fashion a cage for you here. Spent months scoping out the perfect place to keep you so you couldn’t escape and no one could find you. He had even taken the extra steps to try and make it comfortable. 

“Ingrateful whore.” he snarled, tearing open your shift to bare your form to the seaside air. Any trace of gentleness he had shown before evaporated when he shoved you face first against the side of the gilded cage, “Take a good long look at this cage. Because this and me is the closest you’ll ever get to those pearly fucking gates again.”

You wondered where it had all gone wrong. Wondered how he could do something so awful to you and his brother. He was an angel, one of the holy ones, it wasn’t supposed to be this way at all. Shouto made it easy for you to forget that they could fall just like anyone else. That they could be fallible and prone to corruption.

Afterall, every demon is an angel that’s fallen from grace.

((Want to participate in Arcane April? Check out my post here about the event and send in your requests! One day left!))

[hopefullystillliving]

On the last cousins left.

I'm having a lot of feelings about Galadriel and Maglor right now. Like, ok. Imagine that you're in paradise. You have 27+ relatives, not counting any in-laws, on just your paternal grandfather's side. Not everything is perfect, but you can walk among the gods and live and never die and no one goes hungry or cold and it is Good.

And then you loose your grandfather, and then your mother, then your father and your home and your safety and you're cursed to fade or die when it should be anathema to your very being. And all your family does. In a matter of centuries out of your eternal life nearly all of that family is lost to you, because you left, or they did, or they ran or fought or stayed and died. Every time you get someone new, they die or leave as well, sometimes before you even knew them. And there are two people from that paradise left, your cousin, and your cousin once removed/nephew, and then he's dead too, because he trusted the monster who tortured your brother.

And you have Gil-galad, who may also be your nephew/cousin once removed or maybe not, and Elrond because Elros is already dead, who is your son-in-law/a child you raised (your son though you don't deserve to be called father), and Celebrian your daughter/cousin once removed (daughter-in-law), and your husband/someone who justly hates you, and anyone else there could have been is there no longer.

And Gil-Galad is dead now too, it was Sauron again. And Celebrian is tortured and must sail to the land you left when you were young and innocent and naive, to your home that you are exiled from. And your granddaughter/(your granddaughter) is going to be mortal, and her brothers may make the same choice.

And you still have your cousin. Your cousin whose father started this whole mess, who is a kinslayer who has killed your mother's kin, and a thief and a coward and cursed. Your cousin who is holy and proud and self-righteous as though she has done no wrong, who sheds her heritage like feathers from a swan for the slightest hope of redemption and yet refuses to ever yield. And hate and love are not exclusive feelings, because how can you not hate someone who has never helped and only caused harm to you (if indirectly) and how can you not love the only person you have left who understands, intimately, what it's like to fall from paradise with everything you've ever loved burning or freezing and dying around you.

And when you both are, perhaps, forgiven to the only extent it matters, who do you hate more? Your cousin, for hating in return? Your family, for dying? Your gods, your people, your heroes, for their best never being enough? Yourself, for surviving?

Galadriel and Maglor aren't soft with each other, I think, but they have no choice but to care. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, so they've forged their own. They aren't siblings, and aren't friends, and at this point after centuries of us-vs-them they probably only distantly think of each other as family. But they are cousins. They have held the corpses of each others's family, and mourned together. They have lived to see the ends of three Ages and the defeats of their two great enemies and gotten drunk together off the gidiness of it. Galadriel still speaks Quenya. Maglor still sings the Noldolante. And they're the last ones left. Just imagine.

[alberivh]

unwanted lovers

the lovers of the sinner, the thieves of the nation. Caught in despair after hiding their motives behind the ruins of aristocrats , they were now together behind the cells of execution, loving each other in no bounds of life nor death.

diluc x gn!reader

contains (proceed with caution) : major character death, gruesome death, execution. (Heavy angst, comfort/hurt, bad ending)

a/n ; I’m very sleepy these days so enjoy reading this

“diluc..are you sure we’re going to be alright?” , standing behind the cliff, both hands and leg chained up in a huge rocks; standing beyond the other side of the sinners-walls. The cliff was a sharp one, designed to be a punishment for fugitive to regret. But you in the other hand..looked like you didn’t regret anything. Seems like you gone numb and missing, probably dying out of beneficial, but for what exact reason..? Aren’t you going to die? Aren’t you?

The air was in a perfect shape, blowing through the ears of whisper into corruptors mind. It was breezing and perfect, a match for a dead end. The flowers were all a bare minimum, seems as if it was never supposed to grow; Same as how the contradictions between you and diluc relationship.

“we sure are going to be alright…haha”

a simple small affairs of thieves, relationship grew beneath titles. scrawling through the nights of the nations, searching for victims to be devour. Fortune, foods, informations and many more. Dangerous or so, we could talk about it later; after all, privileges of the poor are none to another. Dirts fill the clothes of people with nothing, looking like a lost dog from the leach of their master; it’s how you both look. generally speaking, maybe you both are really perfect from one another. Poor and worthless, messing up the people whom privileges drowns them to exploitation. beneficial for business and public figure, making the knives on both of your throat approach the second you both slaughtered another man.

diluc look so much more than perfect, he is astonishing. Fit more to be a corrupted man instead of a filth whom licks someone toes to be payed. And to live to the fullest, he repayed those who are involved with the corrupted government, by either slaughtering them or just..stealing their granted fortune. It is a job, and to be specific it is a living hell to be in love with your own partner. Loving seems so mature, yet you both found it to be quite bothersome. or maybe that’s just how nature works for someone who grew in an abandoned wilderness. Like how diluc live after his family died, like how you live after you lost everything to the ego’s of the rich.

you both were empty, like you predicted it to be. Diluc was a scum, same as his only eye which felt like a sharpened death. kissing his dry lips as you cried in his chest, embracing the figure of a red-hair thief who ones told you an eternal peace, for the poor we live and for the rich we died, that’s how our life’s work sweetheart. Even if death embarrassed your cheeks, all you wished is for you both to be alive as soon as the worlds ends to be a better place. The smoke of his cigarettes surrounded your cries, it stings the pain of abandonment, like the cries of lovers who only lives to die in the age of glory. although you wouldn’t assume the fact he was a worth of a thousand years of reincarnation, he sure is enough for puppet like you to be pleased.

“still wearing your brother’s eyepatch i see? What’s up with you always wearing it around? You look better without it anyways.”

“he lives in the other ground of the walls, possibly already meeting my father right now. He was beneath 6 feet under the ground anyways, would you like to mourn him?”

“you could just told me he’s dead, Diluc”

“i can’t he’s supposed to be alive after all.”

that’s how you know Diluc’s past, how’d you believe his slaughter and warm to be an abominable crime. As much as you loath those who stick with their family principles, you expect nothing more than Diluc’s ability to keep you both balance from the assumptions of the rich. He is a tool and a lover, even if you fall out of love with him, you could still rely within his power..or so you thought. Fate was cruel, they decided to lend a hand for the inability to be punished by the divine.

You found a comfort at his kisses, it was beautiful. A single line of poet to an old paper, perfection. Never have you though to be deeply in love. dancing like nobody but yourself and diluc himself. Skipping through the laces of fingertips as the mansion burns to the ground, how beautiful the sunset is at the evening; the dust of the corpses which were buried trying it’s best to find the wind, but they were corrupted and only both of you were worth to be despaired. The soul of the worthless, the soul who craves justice for the none; oh god, you both really are in love.

Embracing nothing but him, loving the movement like no one but him, only him, my beloved diluc. The flowers petals which was turned into a thousand of flames are now flying and surrounding the neighborhood. Burning the whole corrupted society was unexpectedly mesmerizing. It seems like it covered the injustice of your action. Burying people underneath their grasp, leaving terrors to the innocent, maybe fairness are really that blind.

The mansion was burned to dust, leaving nothing but bones in the investigation. The fortune you took was nothing, the burns of the screaming neighbors are your daily teases. Diluc found it pleasing that you both are in love once again. Dancing once again. But this time, both of you were chained up in a chamber. Legs full of bruises, cheekbones gone frail, and lips were all drying in horrors. you both are dying in tremors.

Dancing in each other arms, suffering in worth, it’s the last night they thought. The swaying burns of guilt, the loving kisses of embrace, it’s so addicting. Although diluc was hesitant to let go, maybe it’s time to grew on the fact by loving was a cursed from the start. For both of you and diluc. The chains in your legs were rotten, making a deep infection on your ankles. A fatal sources of death and unbalance.

“can we promise something diluc?” , your voice gone hoarse. Trembling and terrified, dying wasn’t so ruthless but seeing diluc suffer was something you wish you could unchange. It’s exhausting to live like no one, maybe diluc felt so too. You were too scared to shed another tears to his chest, anxiety was planting it’s ideology beyond the walls of your mind.

The night was peaceful, maybe the starry sky doesn’t deserve it’s view. Humans are frail, fragile, and too much of a pain to begin with. If you were a god, maybe diluc could be your lover for the rest of your eternal realm. The next life would be fine, just make diluc safe from the grudge of death.

“let us marry each other in the next life, even if it meant for one of us to die again..”

“your wishes is my command, love” , an agreement. He agrees to be in love, whenever the situation is those words would always be kept near. Marriage aren’t that simple to be idealized, but knowing this is your last wish, why not accept the terms? He asked himself.

“you don’t need to be formal like that y’know Diluc, we’re in the same bounds, a fugitive in a prison..”

“well that doesn’t change the fact you’re my lover?” , he replied again. The same silence scowl your emotions to a mess. You really wished you did more than just this, everything. Kissing his lips wasn’t enough, tearing up in his chest wasn’t enough, loving him wasn’t enough and lastly, maybe in the next life your time was too short. can i sacrifice the whole world for you then? So anything that could happened in this state, all of it was for us to met again. I’m too selfish to let go, you are the best thing that universe have fortune to be.

I accept each granted the world has gave, even if it meant for me to die again. Let go of diluc’s hand, let me be the crystalflies Diluc envied; An eternal peace for lovers to reincarnated as. If anything has happened to both of us, let share the burden towards the undeserved. Because in our next life, maybe there wouldn’t be us, just you and another person in chains of eternal love-life.

so whenever i’m lost diluc, intertwined my hands again. And you, whenever you’re lost diluc, love me all over again. Because if this time wasn’t enough, then let us die in each other embrace. Loving you was an intention i never have despises, and as those ancient story told. ‘The once fallen first are the once who fell in love harder.’ I though it was a wise poet, but maybe know i understand, Diluc.

I lost you after you fell to the cliff, i have no regret on loving you. But if time was partial enough for both of us, i rather fall for you without any requited relations with you anymore. Diluc, you’re free. As free as the ocean waves, as free as the guides of the wind, you’re free. I’m sorry for letting you fall away from the range of my life, i’m sorry..

so please Diluc, meet me again sooner or after, i love you.

the pleas for the corpse to hear, here you standing in the cliff alone, waiting for someone to push you apart; to follows Diluc’s path. oh diluc..he look so lonely down’s there..blood all over his head and torso; as he saw you fallen down to his side. Eyes opened in shock, as the knife inside of his stomache rumbles to death. Stings. It stings. He watches the world shutter in his eyes, the eyepatch he use was no longer his brother remnants, it was just a decoration for another corpse to be buried in burden of love. He seems so pathetic in this state, seeing you fallen to his side and couldn’t do nothing but smile.

diluc why am i the only one talking here?

The bloody place you both fallen through was a perfect place for continuation. Trying to slip your head to diluc’s unwary neck, the warm part of his body you couldn’t let go. You heard the whispers of the wind once again, it seems it pitied the living and the dead. Diluc heartbeat was long gone, possibly gone when he smiles at you; for the last time. Diluc was just a body now, your lover have returned to another universe. To another universe you promises him before.

‘in heaven we’ll be free..in heaven we’ll get married diluc.”

the thought of you slowly losing consciousness was better than before. the warm of Diluc’s corpse was starting to fade, same as how your instinct shatter to pieces. The only thing you could see beside the sky was the knife inside his stomach, waiting for it to be freed from the blood of the filth. But your strength was long gone, death already ruins your eyes in despised of being in love. As the ancient tales says in the end of the page, they told the audience a never-ending happy tales, a hope for the lovers to heard at the end. you both are free now..

TAGLIST : @mikachuchu , @zierx @childeluv @urujiako , @chichikoi , @noirkkat , @aphrodicts-imagination , @icecappa

proofread; @mikachuchu (thank you so much wtf mika ily for this /p)

[emerald-amidst-gold]

WIP Wednesday

Guess what, guys? IT’S WEDNESDAY! >:D You know what that means~!

TIME TO SHARE!

I’m excited because I finally, finally found the inspiration and motivation to write chapter 13 of my main fic! And I used the good old, ‘And he returned...’ technique! X’D

Time to talk about mages and templars everybody!

“Ma halla,” Cyfrin’s voice came forward, laced with tiredness and unusually serious as his eyes fell upon his sister, “the Chantry has not had control over either side for years. If they had, the Chantry in Kirkwall wouldn't have met the fate that it did.” He picked up the stick they had been using to tend the fire, giving the logs a gentle poke and sending sizzling embers upwards, “Now, it is merely a war of endurance; who can last the longest and who can end it with the most spite, the most damage. Blood will run for many moons as it has for several years now. Except this time, light is being shone on those crimson puddles rather than being mopped up with a," A finger rose to slender lips, a pantomime of silence and secrecy.

Fane sighed, grimacing a bit when Mhairi shifted against his side and watching those embers rise and then blink out of existence. Cyfrin was right. This was a war without end, and each side was merely swinging at whatever happened to move now. Power corrupted, and it had done so in this instance; mages overwhelmed by the taste of air, magic responding with giddy excitement; templars breaking the chains that held their hands and feet in place, as well as their swords. Both had never known what it meant to be free, and now that they had it in aces, they couldn’t cope with it.  All the common folk, them included, could do was wait it out, like a parent waiting for their child, who refused to listen, to settle down. That was all there was to it.

Fane slowly rubbed his palms together, wringing his fingers a bit as he spoke, “Whatever it is now, it doesn’t matter. It’s a mess made for a different rag,” With a tired movement, he let his head roll to the side a bit to rest atop his sister’s, relishing in its silkiness. To think, he had almost abandoned that comfort for fear. He continued with another sigh, “All that matters is staying away from it. It isn’t our fight; it never has been.”

Silence passed between them all after his words had fallen, the crackling of the fire and the drone of crickets and cicadas the only sounds to fill the air. Cyfrin only gave him a nod that said, 'I agree' before going back to idly poking at the fire. However, Fane could feel something like a tense ripple from Mhairi, her body suddenly rigid where it rested against him.

Shit, Fane thought, growling a bit as he recognized this rolling wave exuding off Mhairi. He should have kept his mouth shut.

A few more moments of silence passed before the words he had been dreadfully waiting for passed lips gingerly being bitten into.

"Is it really not our fight, though?," Mhairi asked in a sheepish whisper. Fane watched from over his nose as delicate hands appeared from under fur and cotton, pink with Fereldan chill and palms up, "Or at least, my fight? I mean, I'm a mage, so really--"

"Mhairi," Fane cut off his sister's words, voice dropping low in warning, "Whatever's going through your head right now, end it."

Fane caught the flicker of amber from across the way, their owner knowing where this was going as much as he did, but he was more focused on ice as it hardened before him. He was not going to entertain this ridiculous train of thought! Was his sister mad!?

"But, brother--!"

"Enough," Fane snapped with a harshness he rarely used with her, "Do you want a templar on your heels!? Do you want to be silenced again!?"

Nostrils flared as he brandished a glare downwards, but his irritation cooled as Mhairi's icy gaze melted and turned downwards, guilt and pain in turquoise. Fane frowned deeply at that. Shit, he hadn't meant to…! Damn it all! This was why he should have left on his own! All he did was pull down, down, down! He could never find the right words!

"Of course I don't want those things, brother. You know that," Mhairi said with tightness, voice like a taut cord before letting out a tiny sigh, down-turned eyes staring pointedly at her hands--the tools for which another tool could be wielded in, "It just...feels wrong to turn away and let not only the mages and templars suffer, but innocent people, too. The people on farms and in villages didn't ask to be involved, but they are." A gentle blue glow enshrouded slender fingers and smooth palms, making Fane's nose twitch in irritation and his stomach roll uncomfortably, but he watched it same as her, "I guess I just want to help them, to show them that it doesn't have to end in flames. Magic is beautiful, and it hurts to know no one but the Dalish recognize that."

Fane listened, rapt and attentive even though he knew his face showed otherwise. Mhairi had vocalized these thoughts before to him, and while he understood where she was coming from, that still didn't mean this was their fight. What was there to gain from throwing themselves into the pan? Nothing but an early grave, that's what. Or worse yet, tranquility. The very idea of that happening to his sister made him sick. How such a practice came to be was beyond him, and yet, it made his mind prickle and pull with those odd feelings of ‘wrongness’. Obviously, stripping a person of their emotions was vile and grotesque and disgusting, but it felt like something more to him. It always felt like more with so little.

Fane let out a long sigh through his nose at himself and his sister, the air condensing in front of him, "It's not your job to present that to the world, Mhairi." He shifted a bit, the fur lining of his cloak brushing against the bottom of his cheeks as he did so. He was starting to get warm, uncomfortably warm.

"Isn't it?," his sister forwarded, pressed, pushed, sparkling eyes slowly rolling upwards to look at him; the glow of her hands fading away to let firelight take center stage again, "I’m a--”

Fane growled, his chest rattling from the depth of it. “Yes, you’re a mage, My, but that’s more likely to get you killed, or worse, made tranquil than understood,” He met her slowly narrowing gaze unflinchingly before sighing tiredly, shoulders slumping and voice softening at the look of hurt in icy blue, “Listen: stop chasing after trouble. No good can come from involving yourself in this mess,” His tired eyes shifted to the fire once more, watching it dance and consume both air and forest wood, “This continent is engulfed in war, and it’s not your job to fix the mistakes of others just because of what you are. That type of blind thinking is exactly why all that’s happened, happened.”

He felt his fists ball up against where his hands were resting between his thighs from anxiety and frustration, the skin along his arms pinching to where he could finally feel his scars start to act up. Great. Just what he needed alongside all this ridiculousness. Why did his sister always have to play this card? Yes, she was a mage, but there were a thousand more who could, but wouldn’t do what his sister wished to. And why? Because they knew it was pointless as narrow perspectives were set in the stone of ages.

Time and time again mages had tried and failed to show the world the intended use for magic. Time and time again restrictions were set ever tighter because of those harmless displays, the Chantry crying, ‘Demon, demon! Blood magic, blood magic!’, and a single, single show of defense against such accusations was treated as a literal felony. Now, the Fade touched were doing the only thing they could think to do after so many disappointments; fight. A caged animal was bound to break the door holding it back, and that was exactly what had happened to every Circle; they broke.

They went silent, voices stolen straight from their throats, emotions ripped away so as to be unable to defend themselves any longer, and the beauty his sister desperately wished to show no longer relevant as it had no place in war, in a world where beauty was a stranger. Fane didn’t have much allegiance to either side, both were foolish and pathetic and tiring, and despite his personal experience with magic, he didn’t detest it. It had its uses, just not on him and that was because he didn’t relish getting uncontrollably ill. He was open minded enough to know magic hadn’t been the true culprit, it had only been like the innocents in this pointless war; used against its will. It had been the blade that carved the stone of his body, but it hadn’t been the hand to wield it.

So, he would admit he felt sorry for the endlessly warring factions, even the templars despite his personal feelings regarding them. To be played like a fiddle by a bunch of tottering zealots, zealots that used ‘faith’ as their bargaining chip to garner influence and power while declaring, ‘It is the Maker’s will’. Sadly, despite how thin the veil of deceit was, the people fell for it like raindrops during a heavy downpour, fast and hard. Was it the humans’ ‘god’s’ will to rip away independent thought? To sunder the minds of those who broke the leash long having held them back?

To indiscriminately kill another on the basis of ‘you’re a mage’ or ‘you’re a templar’ or ‘you’re a threat to our power’? Apparently so. Tragic, but there was nothing to be done about it now and Mhairi needed to understand that.

She needed to understand there was no ‘beauty’ in war.

Mhairi let out a disgruntled huff before her form shifted away from him to sit up. Fane squeezed his already tight fists tighter, the leather of his gloves creaking from the force as he watched his sister rise up from the log, her action calm, but her eyes and face held frustration in delicate edges and firelit ice. He felt his expression go hard as he sat up straight, silently mourning the loss of momentary comfort. Again, he should have kept his mouth shut. Why did he even try using words?

“I think I can see perfectly well, brother. I saw the corpses mutilated beyond recognition, the burnt buildings and the sacked ones, the people crying over what they lost, children wailing as their parents wouldn’t wake up. I saw,” Mhairi said, lilt strained and lips twitching with the urge to bend downwards as a forlorn mutter came after, “I wish you would stop treating me like I don’t, like a child.”

With that, Fane watched his sister quickly stride away towards where they had pitched tents, darkened cloak fluttering behind her and kicking up the dusting of snow with her partially bare feet. It was only when Mhairi completely disappeared from his sight, safely burrowing into her tent, did he let out a sigh, the exhalation hard and long.

“Damn it all,” Fane cursed out under his breath, bringing hand out and up from his cloak to rub at his face. He felt ten years older all of a sudden. Scratch that, a thousand years older. How much older could he potentially feel at this rate?

“Tactful as always, ma falon.”

----

Fane can be incredibly harsh, and a downright jerk sometimes. He doesn’t mince words or give platitudes. He says it how he sees it. 

Tagging: @noire-pandora @oxygenforthewicked @varric-tethras-editor @dreadfutures @the-dreadful-canine @drag-on-age @a-drama-addict @little-lightning-lavellan @whataboutbugs @blueheaded @aymayzing @rosella-writes @1000generations and anyone else that’d like to share! (no pressure! <3)

[alvhiedeir]

Raging Storms

Poseidon X Reader.

Angst I guess. Trying to write angst it hard.

1322 words

Sorry for any errors in advance✌️

The sound of the crashing waves used to comfort you but now, standing infront of the very being, the god that controls it, it only serves as a painful remainder that they may be beautiful but once you dive in they will reveal their claws and drag you into the abyss.

Just as you did.

You fell, you fell in too deep and couldn't come up for air. Couldn't or wouldn't? Your brain chastised you. If you could you would have laughed at how stupidly naive you were. So damn optimistic and hopeful that you could change him, that he loved you as much as you loved him. That that love will be enough to get you through. A ever so brave sailor battling the monstrous waves, trying to find the paradise that was promise to be ahead.

Only to find that there was nothing.

Nothing but the cold and dark neverending sea.

One could only take so much.

"I- I can't do this anymore," you couldn't even recognized your own voice. The proud voice of a goddess that can hold her own against an army now rendered to a meek whisper. Your eyes were glassy as the tears you dared not to drop pools. You want to appear strong, to show that you are not backing down, not this time. Not anymore.

But the unmistakable tremor in your voice and the shaking of your hands easily gave you away.

"I can't do this anymore," you said firmer this time. You almost pat yourself in the back for not stuttering. You took a deep breath, and with a small pause you finally uttered the words you've been wanting say for so long.

"I want to end this, Poseidon."

The said god did not say anything. His eyes not even meaning your's, staring by the side. He remained silent, as he have from the beginning. Despite sitting on his bed, his presence as enough to make you feel so small compared to him. But you let it not intimidate you.

Taking his silence as a chance to continue, you did.

"All this time, I just wanted you to treat me as your partner, as that's what I am."

Years of built up turmoil and anger and loathing came crashing to you faster than you can feel. Your palms were numb and sweating at the same time. The hammering in your chest likens to a beast howling.

"I thought that you loved me as you have told me all those years ago. I thought that the smile you gave me was enough to say that you hold affections for me. Fuck! I thought it was enough to save this marriage!"

You started to raise your voice, losing the composure you promised yourself to keep. You didn't even feel your tears started flowing, when they hit the gorgeous carpet the bedroom adored only did you notice.

You let a small laugh remembering how you picked the color of the carpet. A shade of blue that makes you feel as if you are looking at the clear waters of a majestic lake. Something to remained you of the man you married even when he is not there.

How ironic that is.

"Why?"

The sudden voice startled you, and you raised your head to see that he was directly looking at you, looking at your eyes. The first word he muttered all throughout this whole thing made your skin crawl. No longer with fear or anxiety. No.

You were furious.

"Why? Why?! You ask why?!" Your voice rivaled the thunder outside as you let your anger known.

"Why you asked?! Poseidon, when was the last time you held me in your arms? The last time you shared a laugh with me? When was the last time we had fun together? Was there a time that you actually thought of me as you wife and not just an obligation you had to do?!"

Your throat feels tight and rough. Eyes blurred with the tears that didn't stop. But still you yelled. You yelled every pain, frustration and fear you had.

"And by heavens, you scare me! You kill anyone who you deemed a bother to me and always telling me you know what's best for us, but for fucksakes! Can't you even listens to me!"

"I loved you! Damn everything I loved you! And I still do! But loving someone shouldn't be this painful! It shouldn't hurt this much! I already lost because I loved you more than you could ever love me!"

It was silence after that. With your head low, you cried. The deep breaths you took and the mundane sound of the ocean below feeling the eerie silence. As your sobs died down, you gained enough courage to raise your head and meet his gaze once again.

His eyes were still the same, steady and emotionless compared to your red and puffy ones.

"But you know what, I now better now. I finally accepted that. I'm no longer going to beg for your attention anymore. I know I deserve more than this. So good bye, Poseidon. I hope you're happy now."

You turned to your heel, keeping your head high. To the very least, just this moment, you want to look strong infront of him. Your heels clicks as you approach the door. The moment your hand touched the doorknob, you heard it. Something you have yearning for for so long.

"I love you," it was spoken so quietly and calm just as he is. But the sincerity in it made you question if it was the same person. You hold on the doorknob tighter.

"I'm sorry." You bit your lip, trying not to turn around.

"Please, don't leave me." Your heart broke hearing his voice. It sounded so broken. So small and scared unlike the mighty god you knew.

You took a deep breath and said, with the steadiest voice you could.

"It's too late for that now."

And with that, you slammed the door shut and walked far from the place you used to call home.

You didn't know how long you have been walking under the storm but by the time you reached their door, you were drenched and cold. You a shaking hand you pressed the doorbell and not a minute later, a woman with blonde hair and innocent smile greeted you. Though the moment she took in you appearance her smile turned into a worried frown.

"Hey Persephone," you greeted quietly as you wave you ice cold hands at you.

"Oh my! What happened to you?! Come, come you are freezing darling!" She ushers you insides and quickly findings towel to at least dry yourself. You greatfully took it and wrapped it around yourself. She sat beside you after brewing a tea offering it to you. You smile at her in gratitude and took a sip from the warm drink.

"Are you okay?" You bit your lip at her question. You slowly put the cup down the table and shook your head. You let out a sob. And then another. Within second you were crying once again, fat tears sliding down your cheeks as everything sinks in.

She wrapped her arms tightly around your fragile frame and comforted you. Her eyes held sadness, pity and anger in them as she listen to your cries. She can't help but feel useless as she squeezed you tighter, not knowing what else to do.

"Don't worry darling, it will be ok." She whispered into your hair.

You laughed drily at her words.

"It isn't. And it wouldn't for a long time."

But despite that thought you can't help but feel relieved. It may hurt for now, or for a long time. But someday, it'll be better. And it's worth holding on to.

And as you cried, the heavens cried alongside you. The mourning skies masking the anguish of the god you just left.

[hotchley]

that’s when i could finally breathe

Me: oh yeah, I am definitely going on a fanfic writing break. Also me: this. 

As always, I have no idea what I’ve done. I really was taking a break, but then I was listening to Clean and... this happened. All of my pieces have been weirdly cathartic, and I think this one was just like: HAHA PROJECTION!!

I also did not proofread this, and wrote it in one day, so... do with that what you will :) 

Also, do not comment on my inability to come up with decent titles. I know. I know this is a terrible title, but I HAD NO BETTER IDEAS OKAY!!!

Word Count: 2289

Trigger Warnings: child abuse, funerals, death, past suicidal thoughts, grief, self-destructive behaviour (Hotch does not pull his hair out, but he does have thoughts about doing so)

read on ao3!

He has always found a sense of peace in the rain.

Where other people would run to try and find shelter, Aaron has always loved to just stand and let it soak through his clothes to his skin, chilling his bones and body. Haley had found it endearing as a teenager. 

As an adult, it had concerned her.

He could tell her it was nothing till he was blue in the face, but there was a sense of panic that came with looking out the window to see the clouds weeping, combined with her husband’s lack of presence in their apartment.

More than once, he would come home, shivering and teeth chattering, but smiling. She would force him to change, to wrap himself in a blanket, but he would usually be too dazed to do so without her assistance. He caught a cold more than once.

Jack has inherited his love for the rain. His love, like everything else about him, is childish and innocent though. A love for jumping in puddles and splashing his parents. A fascination with the different types of weather, and a love for the yellow coat that has a duck on the hood that was a gift from Penelope.

Aaron’s love for the rain can be described in one word. The same word Haley has always used to describe the way he loves everything. His love for the rain is complex. It is born from the best and worst moments of his life.

His love for the rain comes from the little boy that wore his heart on his sleeve. Who wanted nothing more than to turn the terrible things that happened into a story, and who just wanted to use his brain to find a reason for all the bad things that seemed to keep happening.

It rained the day of his father’s funeral. His mother and Sean shared an umbrella. Haley tried to get him to stand under hers, but he refused, choosing to stand in it, letting it numb the fire in his stomach. He didn’t shed any tears at the funeral. He had already mourned the death of his father. He had mourned when he was eleven, and learnt that his father did not love him. Not in the way he was meant to. Not in a way that was right.

The rain made it look like he was crying. It soaked his hair and dripped onto the collar of his coat, and when his uncle drove him and the last people that knew the truth about Mr Hotchner, his mother seemed to realise what he had been doing. She chastised him, but it was weak and with no real threat.

Aaron would confess to Haley, months later, that the rain had made him feel like he was being listened to. Like the God he had stopped believing in believed his father was a bad man, and the rain had been to disrupt the final event where anyone would truly care for him. The rain made him feel like there was a happy ending at the end of the tunnel waiting for him.

It made him feel like he could breathe again.

When Haley kissed him for the first time, it was raining. They had been running home from their date, not expecting the summer night to turn out like that, and he had paused because of the stitch in his side. 

She had turned around, laughing hysterically because of course this had happened. Of course their first date, which she had spent hours preparing for, Jessica styling her hair and convincing her the dress she had picked was perfect, ended in rain. With her hair coming loose from the pins she had slid into it. With Aaron’s shirt plastered to his skin. If she had stepped close enough, she could almost see the scars on his back. 

She wouldn’t ask though. Not today. 

He looked at her, slightly apologetic, and she was once again struck by just how pretty he was. His eyelashes were longer than she had first realised, and the rain seemed to drip off of them in a way she had only ever seen in the movies.

His hair was an untamed mess. Her heart had dropped a little when he rang her doorbell, because she liked the chaos of his usual style, and seeing it without a hair out of place made her feel like he was trying to be a different person. The rain had ruined it all though, and it now fell onto his forehead and stuck to his face in a way she loved.

To everyone else in their little town, he likely looked like the villain. Like the demon creeping in through the window to steal the beautiful princess away to their terrible castle. But Haley is not everyone else. And to her, Aaron looks like the dashing prince, ready to save the heroine from the terrible prejudice of her home.

So when he opened his mouth, probably to ask her if everything was okay, she took a step forward, placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him. It was messy and wet and awkward, but it was their first. And it was special.

Her cheeks were flushed when she pulled away. Aaron just stared at her for a few moments, something like panic written all over his face. But then that panic gave way to something else, and Haley felt like she was watching someone realise they were in love.

It was more beautiful than she could’ve ever imagined. 

He smiled at her, still bashful after the events of the evening, and held his arm out to her. She took it, allowing him to walk her all the way to her front door, where he placed a single kiss to her cheek.

He laughed, once he was out of her line of sight. He laughed, and he ran through the puddles, splashing the water everywhere, and he let out loud cheers because the night was silent and only the stars were there to keep him company.

Haley Brooks liked him. No. She loved him.

It made him feel like he could live again.

The moment he felt clean, like the blood had been washed from his hands, like he could breathe again, like he could exist and not feel like there had been some massive mistake, it was raining. Haley had been dead for six months, and it had been six brutal months of cases, of processing his grief, of shutting down in front of the team.

Of teaching Jack that being sad was part of life, and that being happy did not mean he was forgetting Mom, or a terrible person. Of wishing there was someone to hold his hand, just for a moment.

Of flashing Jessica little smiles, because he had lost the first woman to love him the way love was supposed to be, but Jessica had lost her baby sister, and nothing was ever going to bring her back to life. Not his own self-destruction. Not his guilt. Not his pain. Not the way he threw himself into cases that caused the ink to blur before his eyes.

Not the way he was trying so hard to teach his son exactly what love was so he would grow up unafraid to jump in head first, and would always believe in its existence.

Jessica asked if Jack could stay with her for a few days. She had a break in between one project finishing and the next starting, and she was going to use it to look at some of the things Haley had left at her house. Aaron was yet to deal with the things in the house and in storage. He just couldn’t do it.

But Jessica wanted to start, and she wanted Jack to see some of the things. He spoke to Jack, and Jack’s therapist, about the trip, and when both people signed off on it, he packed his son a bag and dropped his son off at his aunt’s for the weekend.

The quietness of the apartment had a greater impact on him than he thought it would’ve. He had gotten used to the sound of Jack racing around. Of Jessica washing dishes. Of their quiet existences that left a mark on every inch on every wall of the convenient location that had somehow evolved into a home- something he thought he’d lost forever when Anderson handed him the divorce papers.

He couldn’t handle the silence. It was suffocating. It reminded him of his childhood house, and of walking on eggshells. It reminded him of the thirty-four days he felt in silence, recovering from stab wounds he wished had killed him, and mourning the loss of his family.

So he drives. And he drives. And he drives.

And he somehow finds himself at Gideon’s cabin. He’d only been there twice since he left the team. Once to pick Reid up once he had the strength to phone and say that he’d found a letter, but he didn’t know what he was meant to do, but Gideon was gone and he didn’t know why everyone always left. Once to pick Rossi up, after the case with the three children that ended with no real sort of justice.

Gideon left him a key. It was in the drawer of his desk, with no explanation. No letter. No apology. Hotch had taken it, and attached it to the keyring that held his house keys. He’d never used it though. 

Not before now.

Because that day, when he goes to Gideon’s cabin, he lets himself in. He walks through the different rooms, smiling at the small traces of his former mentor that still remain there, and the pieces of the other team members that have somehow found themselves a home in the various areas.

He exits out the back door.

Haley had taken him here once. After she found out she was pregnant, he was meant to step down and take a transfer. They’d had it all planned out. Then he’d gotten a phone call saying there was a case, and that case had been Adrian Bale so before he knew what was going on, he was pushed into the role of Unit Chief and trying to rebuild a team that was never meant to have been his.

She had taken him here to remind him of all the reasons he couldn’t leave. Of all the lives he would feel responsible for if he acted selfishly. And he had looked at her, with such love in his eyes, and agreed with her. It had been a quiet trip. A peaceful trip. A warm visit. They had been together, still the teenagers that linked hands during the final bows of their performance.

Haley was dead, and he was left to patch up his own pieces. The visit had been tense and silent, but the uncomfortable type, and even as he walked through the cabin, he wondered why exactly he had bothered coming here. He didn’t know what he was trying to achieve, or what he thought this was going to do. He just knew it was something he needed to do.

When he stepped back out into the woods that surrounded the cabin, the rain started.

He had never believed in signs, not truly, but this one was too big to be anything but that. It was pouring. Enough to cause the branches to sag with the weight of water. Enough to create proper puddles that could be jumped in. Enough to remind him of the first time Haley had kissed him, and how that simple touch had brought him back to life. Enough to remind him of his father’s funeral, and how the feel of the cold had reminded he had no longer had to be afraid.

It was loud enough to drown out the sounds of people.

He had one chance to do this. One chance to see whether or not his love for the rain would still help him the way it always had.

He screamed. He fell to his knees, and he fisted his hands in his hair. He didn’t pull it out, but he tugged at it, and Haley wasn’t there to grip his hands till he could trust himself.

He screamed. And he cried. And he begged for an answer. And he shoved his blazer off, not even caring that his trousers were stained with mud that would likely never come out, and not giving a damn about the cold.

He screamed. Until his throat went dry and his words seemed to fade into nothing, not only because the rain swallowed his noises, but because he couldn’t be loud. 

He screamed until he was soaked and the rain had caused him to go numb and start shivering.

And then he turned around and walked back inside. As he passed the bathroom, something caught his eye. A towel he had thought he had just misplaced whilst on a case, and a hoodie he’d assumed he’d given to Sean and forgotten about. Almost like Gideon had guessed what he would be doing here, and wanted to apologise for what he had done.

Haley would not want him to get sick. Neither would Jessica. Neither would the team. Neither would Jack.

So he went into the bathroom, and he dried himself off, and he zipped the hoodie up. And then he took a final look around the cabin. He smiled to himself, knowing that, no matter what happens, the team will always have this as their safe haven.

He drives home, despite the rain.

It makes him feel like he could love again.  

[sanoiro]

Lucifer Meta: Smile

This meta will be divided in three parts as it involves Chloe, Trixie and of course Dad/God. 

Let’s begin with the most difficult yet easier to decipher. Trixie. 

Trixie is just an 11 year old on the threshold of teenagehood and now understands more than people think. Her relationship with Lucifer is not great at that point and it becomes worse when she takes it out of her scope, places it on her mother and gets it back because then she has to ask what she means to Lucifer as well.

Smile carries a great optimism as a song. A melody first from Chaplin's 1936 film Modern Times up to this day it carries its innocence. And through the eyes of the children comes the truth that Deckerstar in P2 starts and remains in a very painful place not to due to the absence of love but because it overflows.

Now Dad is seen outside Chloe’s place, his visit was not meant to be without him talking to Chloe addressing certain things but as we see when he listens to Trixie two things happen. 

First he realises that everyone is in pain and Lucifer is blind to his love because he cannot connect with his son while the woman that has given Lucifer an abundance of it. However there is also so much pain from Chloe’s part, the same pain that Lucifer has exhibited in the Family Dinner. Suddenly Lucifer’s plea to have a relationship with him in order to have a relationship [with Chloe] makes so much more sense. Dad realises that Lucifer sees himself as broken and that in reality affects his relationship with Chloe and everything is sourcing from Dad’s inability to get close to humans despite having created them. 

On a second note the one that started singing was Trixie not Chloe. Trixie expresses the same anguish over her mother that Lucifer did over his Dad on the Family Dinner. Dad is now more aware of how children are affected by their parents how they try to fix things but usually they bottle everything up because the parent is not there to realise they need to open up. Parent-children relationships are always hard but like He wants for Lucifer to be happy, he has ignored Lucifer’s feelings over everything. Better yet he is completely unaware of what is happening hence why in the end of the episode he says to Lucifer that he cannot fix Lucifer. Not because he doesn’t want to again but because he cannot as Lucifer has said already in S2 that he is not broken but the distorted view of himself follows him well into S5P2. 

So Dad refrains from having a talk with Chloe and leaves to find his son.

Chloe’s part is the most difficult one... As the song progresses we see her main memories of her relationship with Lucifer... So let’s analyse them a bit...

In order to do that we need perhaps to put them side by side with Lucifer’s panic attack memories in 2x12.

Different circumstances of course but it is interesting what kind of memories they were more vivid for them also... 

Both Chloe and Lucifer start with their meeting at LUX and end their recall of their times together with their first kiss by the water in 2x12. Although three seasons apart we see that although they have a different footing in their relationship subconsciously they were always on the same page...  

So Chloe like Lucifer starts with their meeting at LUX, who could ever forget that one? 

There is an innocence in his smile there something that Lucifer’s memories didn’t hold. He remember himself as being cocky and flirty but for some reason she saw him despite everything as a goodhearted man from the very beginning... Interesting to know that...

In her next memory we see her smiling and now we can be assured that she was smitten with him as much as he was in that scene. Perhaps neither of them admitted it but there was something there and now in S5 she is willing to allow herself to remember that moment as a very beautiful one where she indeed felt something. Surely not love. Perhaps lust but both felt a connection and that’s enough but also rare.

Her playful moments around him as her second memory also remind us how she tried to coax him on opening himself to her advances to a stage where she thought there was something and like then, in S5 Chloe has more cards on her hand on that relationship but not the words she need to move forward so her insecurity is creeping like it did back in 2x12. 

That insecurity and naiveness comes also with youth which she experienced on Lucifer’s prom dance at LUX. There was something special there for sure but again the key here is innocence and insecurity. Do not forget that next Chloe moved to Marcus when Lucifer drew back only two episodes later on ‘Let The Pinhead Sing’ aka 3x17. 

Now though Chloe knows not to give up. She has the knowledge she needs but that does not make Lucifer’s distance over their relationship and his feelings any less painful. So like in S3 she is waiting for Lucifer to open up but it ain’t easy and as we know she will not wait for much longer.  

Next comes the scar scene. What an iconic scene but also a scene where Chloe understands not only his physical scars but his emotional ones. It’s a moment when she realises he is in a bad shape, where he shows afterwards his own insecurity and vulnerability to her... Not with bullets but by a being that is not accustomed on people caring, who believes all will eventually disregard him and that is a connection to his Daddy issues. What it is also is that he is not human and thus his baggage are so much heavier and agonising to carry around. 

But even then, even with his scars and his deep open wounds when his Father is mentioned or when he awkwardly attempts to show emotion, he is capable of feeling so much. She remembers his words as she pretended she was asleep, he remember his gift and she now knows more than ever it was never a joke. It was him being vulnerable to her because he trusted her and yes he is capable of love...

He is capable of love because she saw him mourn and love through a friendship with a priest. Only a person who feels so much, loves so much can also find himself in so much pain... So she understands his pain but she allows herself to feel hers as well and she knows she has to be next to him once again and she does that in 5x11 and onwards. She is clear about her feelings soon after when she believes he has adjusted with his father a bit in 5x13. 

What she also remembers is that again he is a man who needs support to thrive. It is perhaps why she assumes later on she has to give up her job as Lucifer is more fragile than anyone thinks. He also attaches himself to people and places and again he has exhibiting love...

In one of their earlierst *good*days she was able to see him feel and respond to love. Share it as well. Because this is real and Chloe knows she cannot doubt him. Linda has warned her as much. He is set to destroy everything good that comes his way so again he needs help. She needs to trust him as she did in 2x12. 

Because when she trusts him, she knows they are incredible. She was the one that initiated their relationship, their lovemaking and their partnership after a while but he has a tenacity to make things last if only he is allowed some space and is given the love he needs.

And there have been so many happy times... In 5x07 she cannot fathom that Lucifer cannot love. He can love but whether he is in love is a different matter now. 

She remembers when she felt his love (above) but also when he cryptically said it when he again opened up to her with his wings. There is a purity about Lucifer than not many if anyone can realise aside from her and it’s perhaps that reason she does not recall his bad days as she always remember him as the person she met in 1x01. A cocky lovable bastard. 

So when he left he said: “It was always you Chloe”. Again she remembers that she knows he means more and her insecurities are great so that is why knowing she offers him in 5x13 an easier front. Are we together or not? Is this a relationship? She has faith in him to return to her as she had faith to him when he left to go to Hell. 

And she has faith because she remebers he has protected her so much. “You are safe that’s all that matters”. If we ever wondered about 3x24 well now it is canon that Chloe even in a hazy state was aware what happened that day. 

That Lucifer protected her, he bled for her and made sure no harm would come her way. For a selfish being he was so effortlessly giving to her and that again is Love. A bleeding one and she knows she would have done the same... She eventually did in 5x16. 

Seriously... It’s canon she remember that scene people...

And here comes the realisation again. He would endanger himself whether vulnerable or not for her over and over and over again. He told her so in 5x02 and that was again one of his grand admisions. Because since the beginning he loved her...

Since that first kiss they both knew... Both end up their recollection of their relationship with that kiss. Because they were both so open there, especially Lucifer.  It was also the point where they know even for a brief while what to do the right way in order for the person they love to feel safe eventually, consequences be damned. Because they love them so through all the anguish how is it possible not to smile?

There is love. It is apparent but not told by Lucifer yet it’s right there so they will both smile for what they feel while they try to protect the one they love. Pain be damned. 

[goodnightmemes]

BEING HUMAN US SEASON ONE SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ You wake up from your nightmares. We don't. ❜

❛ Do you wanna come in? I think I got a really awful bottle of wine. ❜

❛ We'll have full moon parties. We'll invite the neighbors over and eat them. ❜

❛ Are you trying to scare us with Bon Jovi? ❜

❛ Think of us as sort of different countries on the same continent. ❜

❛ Life is a series of choices. As it turns out, death is the same. ❜

❛ I think every home has an echo of the people who lived there before. ❜

❛ People are worried you're dead. There's a search. ❜

❛ What is such a secret that you can't tell me? ❜

❛ You don't look nearly surprised enough to see a girl you left for dead. ❜

❛ I'm not interested in making things convenient for you. ❜

❛ It is impossible to live forever perfectly. ❜

❛ No one says hi to the neighbors anymore, and you know why? 'Cause we are the neighbors! ❜

❛ The stuff we're seeing out there, what one truly evil son of a bitch can do to another human being...I don't know a single decent person who could get used to that. ❜

❛ A man can wander for eternity these days before he can find a place to be himself, let go, howl at the moon. ❜

❛ Why are you dressed like a douche? ❜

❛ Just when I start to think that there's hope, like real hope for me to be just like everybody else, I wake up and I'm in hell! ❜

❛ The last I remember, you were having the time of your life tearing through innocent people. ❜

❛ In the end, death is a journey you take alone. ❜

❛ Porn before breakfast? Really? ❜

❛ Do you think if you mention food to someone, and they say they like to eat, technically it's a date? ❜

❛ You answer questions like an escaped convict. ❜

❛ Even a monster can be afraid of the darkness. ❜

❛ How does it feel? Maybe one tenth of how scared you made me? ❜

❛ You're more pathetic as a ghost than you were alive. ❜

❛ I swear to God, if that's my high-school math teacher here for an intervention, I'm gonna cut my face off. ❜

❛ Anything I don't have to summon a warlock for? ❜

❛ If this is about us, then you keep it between us! ❜

❛ I'm trying to focus, do my job and I'm constantly distracted by you. You're simply too attractive. It's gonna cost someone's life one of these days. ❜

❛ Would you guys please just leave me to mop up whatever this is in peace, please? ❜

❛ If you think I'm going into a place that scares a member of the undead, you flipped your pancake. ❜

❛ Some of the ghosts that wander those halls, I put them there. ❜

❛ Did you double-down on antiperspirant. You sweat a lot when you're nervous. ❜

❛ It's as though you're an artist and awkward is your medium. ❜

❛ You will end up just like those people you saw today, searching for the pieces of a puzzle that doesn't even exist anymore. ❜

❛ Why are you vacuuming like a crazy person? ❜

❛ I no longer compute what's weird. ❜

❛ It doesn't matter if you're dead, undead or somewhere in between. Because it's you humans that haunt us. And you won't let us go. ❜

❛ No! You only tell me things when crap has already exploded! When it's raining down on us! When you don't have a choice! ❜

❛ The only time that I remember what it was like to be alive...is when I'm dying. ❜

❛ Immortality is an easy thing to take for granted. ❜

❛ To rule the world alone is worthless. ❜

❛ So you tell me, have you ever in your endless life cared enough about anything to actually take a stand? ❜

❛ Either I leave you now, or I betray you later. Tell me that you understand. ❜

❛ We built something wonderful, you and I, but I'm afraid this is where it has to end. ❜

❛ The thing is, change doesn’t care if you love it or you hate it; it’s indifferent. Intractable. And it will not be denied. ❜

❛ Why are you doing this? I left you alone! You won! ❜

❛ You don't get to talk about me like that. You don't get to mourn me! ❜

❛ You deserve whatever she does to you. ❜

❛ I was supposed to die. I am dead. It's not right that I'm here. ❜

❛ So, if you loved me even for a second of this horrible ride...you would let me go. ❜

❛ If we videotape [name] right now and showed somebody, they'd be dead in 3 days ❜

❛ She looks like she's gonna eat our entrails. ❜

❛ Let's do an ego assessment. Maybe we're thinking of ourselves too highly. ❜

❛ Sorry. I should have found a more politic way to say it. Dying has made me very blunt. ❜

❛ You sound like you're interning for Hannibal Lecter. ❜

❛ No one deserves to die more than you do. And nobody deserves to kill you more than I do. But I'm not like you. ❜

❛ What I wouldn't give for normal. I'd give my life to be normal. ❜

❛ It's time you knew the truth, now that I have nothing left to lose. ❜

❛ Ok, if we're gonna be friends, you need to stop thinking I'm gonna kill you. ❜

❛ This shouldn’t have worked for so many reasons. But for a little while, for this excellent moment in time, it did work, didn’t it? ❜

[simsadventures]

Not Me: Chapter 5: Confusion

CEO!Bucky x wife! Reader

Summary: Bucky recalls times in your marriage that were ambiguous, trying to find out where the truth is, while going carefully over the contract he signed when he got the company. And he suddenly sees things from a different perspective.

Warnings: angst (what’s new), swearing, mentions of sex, Bucky’s “POV”

Word Count: 2186

A/N: A lot of good’ol Buckaroo and his thoughts on certain issues in this chapter. Thought it might help. So what did you guys think? :) xx Oh btw, I have no idea how contracts work, so bear with me :D

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

Bucky was sitting on what was previously your bed, reading the letter you left behind over and over. At first, he went straight to his previous way of thinking, believing this was some kind of manipulation from you. But the longer he read it, the more he realised it was genuine. You were genuinely hurt, Bucky suddenly realised, and his heart gave a painful thud in his chest.

Was it all just some weird game somebody else was playing, destroying two innocent people along the way? But more importantly, was Bucky unknowingly destroying you all this time, when you had nothing to do with all of this?

Bucky recalled the night he “proposed” to you. At that time, he thought you were playing some sick game, trying to provoke him with your happiness. But he suddenly imagined your joyous face in front of him, the tears in your eyes giving them even glossier look just made you look prettier. But then, Bucky didn’t want to think of you as pretty or hot. You were the enemy for him and his family, and he tried to do everything in his power to forget about the way you tasted when he finally gave in to his urges.

Sex with you was the best he ever had, and every time he was with a woman ever since he imagined your face in front of him. He thought of the little noises you made when you came for him, and it never failed to make him horny. But he willed himself to forget about it, to think of it as sealing the deal. He slept with you on a few other occasions, always drunk because that was the only way he could look at you the same way he used to when you were younger.

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Could he have been doing all that with you all this time, if somebody wasn’t playing you two like puppets?

He laughed bitterly as he realised that the only played person was most probably him. That from the drama in the kitchen and from the letter in his hand, it started to be more than obvious you had no idea what was going on. You were probably just happy to finally have a chance with him, after all those years he tried to make himself as independent as he could.

Bucky needed to talk to you as soon as possible, just to ask some general questions in case he was wrong about you right now, but he doubted he was. Things finally started to make a little more sense. He still didn’t want to think of the people or the person who was actually doing all this, because he had the feeling he wouldn’t survive it just now.

But first, he needed to consult the only other person he felt like he could trust. Steve.

Bucky gave him a short call asking him to come to his house, and Steve didn’t waste a second getting there. He could hear that something was seriously wrong by the tone of Bucky’s voice. His best friend was rarely confused or surprised, let alone upset.

When he came into the house, he called for Bucky, looking around, seeing that some things have changed, and from the weird feeling in his stomach, Steve could say that you were gone. For good. And although it should have been a good thing after the things you’ve done to Bucky and his family in the recent year and something, Steve felt that there was more to the story.

He almost ran up the stairs, finding Bucky in your room, sitting on your bed with something between his fingers. Bucky had his eyes closed, and if Steve didn’t know better, he would say Bucky was actually asleep. But from the set jaw and clenched fist and overall rigid posture, Steve knew that his best friend was just thinking.  

“Hey there, bud. What happened? Where’s Y/N?”

“Gone. She’s gone, pal. And while a few days ago I would take that as a victory, I have the feeling I should be mourning and not celebrating. I told you about the little fight we had in the kitchen the night of the party, right?” Bucky asked, and Steve just nodded, beckoning Bucky to continue.

“I’ve had some doubts ever since then, but today, man. Today my father and her father vetoed me in company’s vote, which I didn’t even think was possible. But about that later. And Y/N was sick the week after the party, and then I was too busy to actually take notice of her, but that doesn’t matter. My father came barging in today, telling me that Y/N wanted a child from me or she’ll reveal some new photos that I haven’t seen yet. But, I’m telling you, man, she was too sick to even have her eyes opened, let alone to plot a fucking masterplan. And then I came home, ready to confront her, finally, and I found only this letter laying on her bed, and she is fucking gone,” Bucky sighed and handed Steve the letter to have a look on his own.

They both remained quiet while Steve read over the letter a few times to be sure he didn’t miss anything.

“This actually sounds like she just wants to be free, doesn’t it? Like she would actually be relieved if I signed the divorce papers. Or am I just seeing things?” Bucky asked, genuinely concerned.

“Look, something stinks here. Because this is really Y/N telling you that she wants to have nothing to do with you, ever again, pretty much, and from what you told me about the party, she also acted honestly. So why somebody who is trying to get away from you and whose life you made living hell, I quote here, would want a fucking kid with you? It doesn’t make any sense, Buck, none at all,” Steve mused, looking at Bucky with concern in his eyes.

“What if, all this time, it wasn’t her making all those demands, but somebody else, a third party, and the only thing I did was hurt her over and over?”

“I don’t know, Buck. And why didn’t you pick up her phone? If you have this feeling for some time, you could’ve talked to her today,” Steve added.

Bucky quickly grabbed his phone and showed Steve his missed calls. There were none.

Steve’s eyes perked up as he looked from Bucky to the phone and back to Bucky.

Bucky then went through his contacts, finding yours under simply your name, and when he clicked on the contact, it showed him that your number has been blocked in his phone.

“You blocked her in some tantrum?”

“Have I ever had a fucking tantrum, man? I had never blocked anybody, even that crazy chick that called me nonstop when we were 20. I never tried to contact Y/N, that’s on me, but I wouldn’t block her number. What if she was in danger and she’d call me? I wouldn’t be so dumb.”

Steve scoffed and raised an eyebrow at his friend. “If what you think is true, I don’t think she’d call you if she were in danger.”

Bucky sighed, knowing that Steve was right. He quickly unblocked your number and stared at the screen, musing at whether to call you or not. He didn’t even know what he’d say anymore. He was just confused, and he couldn’t grasp anything that was happening around him. And he hated to feel this helplessness inside him. But if you were really innocent, Bucky thought, you must have felt like this the whole time. And once again, Bucky’s heart hurt at the thought of it.

Bucky didn’t call you that night. He thought he would look into the contract before he made any rash decisions. Luckily, he grabbed it last night as he was leaving the office so he could have enough privacy to go through it line by line.

He was going through it, paying attention to every little detail. So far, nothing caught his attention, everything was the way it supposed to be and what he remembered from reading it the first time.

It was when he got to the almost conclusion of the contract, that he stumbled upon an interesting clause.

In case Barnes and Clark’s families connect through marriage, the company cannot be sold to anybody else, nor can any third party take over the company as such. In this case, the founding members of the company stay in leadership positions, able to veto the CEO’s decisions. Further explanation of this clause to be found in section 17, clause 198.

Bucky furiously turned the pages of the contract between his fingers, trying to get to the section mentioned. When he got to section 17, he quickly skimmed through the pages to find clause 198, but he could only find number 197 before section 18 started.

Ok, now this was more than weird. Where the hell was the fucking section and how in the fucking hell would you even be able to put such shitty clause into his contract? You’ve never even seen the fucking papers. Before this day, it was safely confined behind closed doors of his office. The only people who ever even saw the contract were… his and your fathers.

Bucky’s stomach clenched, recalling the photos of his sister splayed on different surfaces, on various men, doing God knows what. Would any of your fathers be so insane, especially his own fucking father, to use his daughter as leverage against Bucky? And what was the third party mentioned in the contract?

Bucky hoped that his confusion would dissipate after reading through it, but it only caused him to be more upset. It was now more than evident that you had no fucking idea what was happening around you. And that this whole time, you were actually trying to be a good wife to him, just trying to please him and his fucking manners.

He acted like a douche to you this whole time because he thought you were the devil’s spawn, trying to get a reaction out of you and make your life as bad as he thought his own life was, while you had no idea what was going on.

Bucky wanted to die there and then. He quickly picked up his phone and shot you a text message, hoping you two could talk for the first time since you got married, and you could find a way to be civil. He knew that hoping for anything else would be foolish. He would sign the divorce papers to free you from himself. He was obviously toxic for you, and he wanted to redeem himself, even if it meant never seeing you again.

You slumped down on your couch, totally exhausted. You tried to make your apartment liveable and comfortable, just trying to make it feel like a home. Not that you felt like that in a long time. You thought that taking stuff you bought to make yourself feel better in Bucky’s house would prove a good thing, but the more you looked at the fluffy pillows, the worse you felt.

You knew it was a good thing that you left and you had no regrets about that part. But as you were finally alone, you realised one simple thing.

Sure, Bucky made your life a living hell for no apparent reason. And you definitely weren’t forgetting nor forgiving that anytime soon. But you knew you could’ve done more. That you could’ve talked to him, could’ve made him listen to your reasoning. It might have not helped, but you should have tried more.

But that was in the past, you knew Bucky, and you had no future, and you only prayed you could be civil enough to maybe come back to work one day. You got up from the couch to have a quick shower, getting the dirt and exhaustion out of your system.

When you got up, you went to cook yourself some super unhealthy dinner, something you missed terribly in your previous life. You just wanted to check your phone to check the time so that you could cook your meal properly.

Your heart stopped when you saw there was a message waiting for you.

From: James

  Hello, Y/N. I know you probably don’t ever wanna talk to me again, and I understand that. But could you find it in you, to see me, possibly one last time? I promise I’ll sign whatever divorce papers you wish me to. I just feel like I should explain certain things. You don’t own me anything, but I’m begging you to give me the chance to tell you some information, and most importantly, to apologise for everything.

Please, let me know if you would be up for this.

 Bucky

Oh shit, you thought and had to grab the counter behind you not to fall from all the shock coursing your veins. What the hell just happened?

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Not Me:

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[sparklecryptid]

when is a monster not a monster?

also here on ao3

If a monster knows that he is a monster does he have a choice in that matter? Does he have a choice to discard the beast time and rage have made of him? Or is he still merely a pawn, merely a piece on the board where he should have been king? If the monster knows he is a monster and that he has no other option but to be the villain of this play-

Is he still a monster?

-

Ardyn knows that he cannot be kind. That the role he has been forced into will not allow it, will not allow for the inch of mercy that creeps across his soul when he sees those dead and dying. A different him would have saved them, and if not that would have comforted them in their final hours. A different him was a kind man, with mercy for all those who wandered across his path.

He can no longer afford to be such. Ardyn can no longer afford to be a gentle man, to be a man of virtue and sacrifice. He is no messiah, adorned with a crown of holy water and roses, there will be no mourning at his funeral for none will ever know the length and breadth of his tale. They will see a villain, a monster laid to rest and that is all his legacy will be.

Ardyn is a monster, he knows, and monsters do not get a second chance.

-

There’s a writer. A poet. A wordsmith with words lacquered on his tongue like the finest honey. The poet speaks of gods and monsters, of love and redemption and something in the words of this man causes Ardyn to stop his wanderings through the streets of Lestallum and listen.

“-and the end will be not of light; blaring loudly in our ears it will be a rose silence, a gentle mourning for we did not know what was lost.”

The poet speaks of an end, of the last days of darkness and a gentleness that came not from the dawn lingering over the heavens but from the silence of mourning something lost. Something they could not understand that had left them.

The poet ends his performance and the crowd before him murmurs as he bows. A nervous yet gentle smile crosses the poets lips -a slash of dark pink on pale brown skin- and the crowd applauds him. The poet bows, and when he rights himself once more his gaze meets Ardyn’s and the poet freezes as though he recognizes Ardyn.

Oh, Ardyn thinks as he claps slowly with the crowd, That’s interesting.

“Uh,” The poet stammers as the crowd fades and Ardyn approaches. The poet’s bright brown eyes darting around as though attempting to figure out the best way to escape Ardyn. “Hello.”

“Dear Wordsmith,” Ardyn grins at the man who fidgets with his shirt as though it’s the most interesting thing in the world, “May I ask for what inspired your performance? Though I only caught the tail end of it I must say that I found it… fascinating.”

The poet’s eyes widen, as though he’s been caught in a net there’s no way out of before he takes a breath and the confidence that he had while speaking to an audience shows itself once more.

“Only,” he says, lips turning downward in a frown, “If you buy me lunch.”

-

If someone knows that a terrible fate befalls a man who was once innocent does that person have the responsibility to try and right things? Charlie can almost hear his mother tell him yes, tell him that he has a duty to right the wrongs that have been set in stone throughout the history of this new world he finds himself in. Charlie can almost hear her say that if he has the chance to help someone that he should take it.

And Charlie knows the type of man that he is; knows that he cannot leave someone out there to suffer. That if he can even ease the suffering of a man the slightest bit that he will do it, not out of duty, but because the sight, the thought of someone else suffering and no one doing anything turns his guts into knots.

If he can do something, he will.

Perhaps that is why after he has lived in Lestallum, has made his name selling books and writing poetry, Charlie decides to step onto the street and recite the poem he had written for a man and god made villain. His voice and words draw a crowd, as he knew they would, and they stand and sit enraptured by the tale Charlie spins.

When a man approaches him, with wine dark hair and golden eyes Charlie almost faints.

Instead he gathers his courage and asks the man to buy him lunch.

-

Charlie the poet calls himself.

“That’s not a very poetic name,” Ardyn comments.

“You’re not very poetic,” Charlie replies, voice like ice as he sips the iced tea latte he had ordered from the bistro’s menu.

Ardyn smirks, amused by the bite in Charlie’s voice and leans across the table just to watch Charlie’s eyes widen.

“So,” Ardyn asks, “I believe I was promised the details of what inspired your verse today.”

Charlie’s eyes narrow, the sun dancing over his brown hair turning it almost red in the light.

“You,” the poet says, and despite the way he bites his bottom lip when Ardyn’s eyes take on a dangerous glint Charlie does not leave.

“Me?” Ardyn asks, voice as sweet as silk, “Why me?”

Charlie meets his gaze across the table.

“You have a compelling story,” is all the poet says, “It deserves to be told.”

Ardyn should kill the man in front of him, this he knows. Ardyn should let the mans corpse fester and rot in an alley but-

It would be a shame to lose someone as skilled with words as Charlie is.

Ardyn can admit to himself that he wants to see what this strand of fate has in store for him. That he wants to see what becomes of this poet who knows far more than he should and yet doesn’t seem to know enough. He wants to see whether this poet will live or die and yet already there is a part of him that insists that if this poet dies it will be by Ardyn’s own hand.

“Not many would share your opinion,” Ardyn says and watches rage flare in Charlie’s brown eyes.

“Yeah,” Charlie says, “Well your family has always been full of idiots.”

“They are not mine.”

Charlie looks at him, like a writer analyzing their newest project.

“No,” he says, “I suppose they aren’t anymore at least.”

-

When you offer a monster a hand in friendship, when you choose to tell that monsters story to the world, does that make you a monster as well? Charlie wonders this as his mouth runs ahead of him.

“Tell me what I don’t know,” Charlie asks near the end of their lunch, “And I will ensure it will be told.”

Ardyn's grin is wicked and Charlie feels as though he's just signed a deal with the devil.

[trustsalvatorewriting]

wasteland, baby! | kol mikaelson - chapter twelve

Summary: Kol makes a deal with the Hollow to revive the first woman he ever loved. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go as planned.

Trust’s Note: Please like and reblog! I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 2,288

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

❝ what does one do with life when one expected to be dead ❞

"HOW DOES IT FEEL? To be alive, after all these years." Kol asked, eyes barely meeting Aniya's as they sat on a park bench. They had agreed to spend the day watching for strangers, any person that wouldn't mind having a sprinkle of amnesia in their lives. After a while the silence had gone deafening, and Kol decided to speak.

    Aniya looked back at him, somewhat shocked that he had bothered to ask about her condition. She shifted in her seat. "Truth be told, I do not know what to do with the life I hold in my hands. It's as if someone has handed me the moon."

    "Didn't you ask for this? To be immortal?"

    "No. My father did." She said, looking down at her hands. She and Vihaan had questioned his beliefs once, and only once. It was the day that their father held their hands over a fire, and asked who would save them if not the gods. "And what of you? How did Esther create the spell that turned you into vampires?"

    "She didn't create it. She found it, after Henrik was attacked by the wolves one night." He'd said it so casually, it might have gone over the average person's head; but Aniya had known him all his life. "Mother dearest murdered my ability to practice magic that night. About a decade ago, she stuck me in the body of a witch, but I was promptly killed by Finn shortly thereafter. Such a shame. The body was quite handsome."

    He paused, then added, "Of course, not quite as handsome as me. But it did do the job."

    She lifted an eyebrow slightly. "You would give your immortality to be a witch again?"

    "You may have given your life for immortality, but I never wanted this. I was perfectly fine dying at the fine age of thirty years old," He sent her a smirk, and she rolled her eyes. She turned her attention back to the humans walking in front of them. Across the street, an old man and his wife, wrinkly and discolored, hair the color of salt and pepper.

    "It is a wonder how humans learned to live so long. Perhaps my father wouldn't have forced us to into those rituals if he knew humans could become so... weathered."

    Kol laughed then, and Aniya found herself smiling at the newspaper Kol had set down on their laps. After a moment, he asked, "You truly can't read?"

    "I've learned a bit," She admitted. Henry had helped her, using a few pictures books he'd created and never published. Elijah had repeatedly offered her private tutors, but the situation had never been ideal. Even compelled humans would ask questions eventually, and there was something discomforting about allowing a stranger to see her weaknesses. She'd been a gifted witch once, a prodigy; and she had lost to something as simple as American tongue. "I do miss runes though."

    "You'd be the only one," Kol responded. She narrowed his eyes at him in annoyance, and he simply shot her a smile. He turned his attention to the humans. "So, we've sat here long enough. Who will we put out of their misery and erase twenty years worth of memories?"

    "How about one of the weathered ones?" She suggested. "They've been alive quite long. Surely they won't miss a decade or two."

    Aniya had given eighteen years of her life to a set of rituals. Given her life for the sake of her parents. A few memories in exchange for a taste of her old life -- it was a small price to pay. Regardless, humans were never meant to live so long. They were in pain now, surely. Growing weak and inching closer to Death with each passing moment. To walk the streets and see the youth, see all they had lost.

    Perhaps she would be putting them out of their misery. Granting them the ability to forget all they would never have again.

    She stood from the bench and made her way towards an elderly man only a few feet away. Kol leaned back and watched the girl smile brightly, encapsulating the man in a short conversation about passing birds.

    "I can't remember the last time I'd seen a creature so beautiful." She knelt down, though the bird hopped a few steps away. Her brown eyes dimmed for a moment, and Kol felt a heavy weight on his chest as he watched the little bird move away from her. As if it were repulsed.

    "Yes," the old man nodded in agreement. His voice was aged, in a way that even Kol found himself pitying him. "Your generation is so glued to those phones. Rarely even feed the birds anymore."

    "My generation," Aniya squinted her eyes. She was very much his elder, and Henry had tried to show her how to use a phone only a few days ago. Unfortunately, the very concept had gone over her head. "Yes. I agree. My brother, though, he used to care dearly for these creatures. Often found him climbing trees and feeding them leftover scraps."

    She spoke fondly of her brother. It was hard not to. No one had a heart quite as big as his. No one dared to. The world was never made for one as beautiful as him, and yet there she stood, desperate to gain her strength and revive him.

    "What was his name?"

    Aniya hesitated. Her mother had always said names carried power. "Victor. My name is Annie."

    "It suits you," He commented. The man's blue eyes sparkled with kindness, and she felt her stomach drop. "I hope he takes care of you."

    "You needn't worry. My brother was quite the protector," She shrugged off his comment, eyes quickly shifting to the street in front of her. She pushed herself off the ground and focused her eyes on a nearby lamppost. "And what of you? Do you have family? People that care for you?"

    "My wife, Betty. She cared dearly for me," The old man chuckled. He pulled out a small leather rectangle, and Aniya lifted an eyebrow at the gesture. Carefully, he unfolded it and revealed a black and white photo of a young couple. A blonde woman with molded curls and a young man beside him, in a perfectly tailored suit.

    The man slipped the photo out and turned it around. At the bottom right corner was a jumble of letters. Aniya leaned forward to see the lettering, and after a few moments, the man said, "Betty and Edwin. Our wedding in the fifties."

    Aniya's faced soured and she looked away, as if she'd just tasted something terrible. From across the street, Kol lifted an eyebrow. She took a breath.  "Where is she now?"

    "Died of long cancer twenty years ago. I miss her everyday." He said, his voice tainted with nostalgia. Aniya bit the inside of her cheek, a pit in her chest crawling up her throat. Edwin carefully tucked the photo back into his wallet.

    "And you love her to this day? Your love for her, it never died?"

    "In my experience, love never dies."

    "How do you love someone you're sure you'll never have again? How can you bring yourself to love something so unbearable?" Surely he would give in. Surely he could bring himself to forget her. How much she would give in return for amnesia. In another world, she might've belonged to Henry and Henry alone.

    Edwin shrugged. "I'll see her again. It's only a matter of time."

    It was then that she felt something snap. A switch in her mind, flipped, and exchanged for something much colder. Ice rushed through her veins as she stared at the man, and her mind was made up.

    Kol would one day see his Davina once more. Edwin would see Betty, and the world would continue to spin, as she stood paralyzed and alone. Even Henry would leave her eventually. She had only one insurance, one promise that would never leave her: Vihaan.

    "I truly am sorry." Aniya placed a hand on the man's shoulder and whispered a spell beneath her breath. The man's eyes glazed over, and static ran through her veins. She took a step back and raised an eyebrow, ignoring the sense of euphoria that overwhelmed her. "Raise your left hand."

    He obliged.

    "Drop it. Raise your right hand."

    He obliged. She had control of him.

    "Give me your wallet. Go to Lafayette Cemetary and ask for Keres." The man, stripped of his willpower and sense of self-control, handed her the small leather object and walked away in a daze. Aniya swallowed and shoved the rectangle into her pocket. To her left, she felt a slight breeze, and Kol stood by her side.

    Kol watched the man wander away, a brow lifted as Aniya gulped. "You hesitated."

"I'm ripping away an innocent man's free will because we made the mistake of getting married. My apologies if I'm not all that ecstatic about our situation," Aniya muttered. She huffed, shutting her eyes tightly as she turned on her heel.

"Well, lucky for you, we only need two more. I found a poor bastard in the cemetery last night. I'm sure no one will notice he's gone," Kol announces proudly, hot on Aniya's trail as she walked away from him.

"We shouldn't be preying on the innocent, Kol. Especially not men who are mourning their loved ones!"

Kol huffed and sped in front of her, raising his hands to stop her from crossing him. She sent him a warning look, and he sighed. "This one deserves death. Trust me."

She had been given no reason to trust him. In the weeks since she had come back, not once had Kol given her proof that he was worthy of it. Frankly, he's gone lengths to prove the opposite; but somehow, as she stared into his aged, tired eyes, she found herself wanting to believe him.

And so, she nodded, for once giving into his antics. "All right. I suppose we'll just have to find a few more and send them to Keres. I'm sure it won't be that much trouble."

    Regardless, she couldn't seem to ignore the heaviness of her chest — the guilt she carried, knowing she had just sent a man to be stripped of his free will. Her parents had tried desperately to rip her of these emotions, trained her to see human lives as game pieces. Ones that she would have to dispose of once they no longer suited her. Her father had told her to embrace the electricity that ran through her veins when she practiced dark magic, but what was meant to surge of power had become nothing but a parasite. This power had turned her into nothing but a monster.

    "Kol?"

    "Yes?"

    "What did your siblings and father exchange for immortality?"

    He stopped walking then, his feet glued to the sidewalk. For a moment, his amusement faded, but it was quickly hidden away with a smirk. It occurred to Aniya that she might have hit a nerve. "I'm a vampire, darling. Haven't you caught up on the mythology yet? Watched a few scenes from Twilight? I've heard Robert Pattinson is quite dashing."

    "Well, yes, but I'd like to see the truth. I'm not sure how much of that I'm going to find in pop culture." She crossed her arms over her chest and took a step toward him, looking up at his aged, tired eyes. "Show me."

    "You're a stubborn little thing, aren't you," He murmured. He sighed then, leaning back against a nearby lamppost.  Aniya came closer as he shut his eyes, and black veins crawled from beneath his eyes down to his cheeks. His eyes opened, revealing a pair of blackened irises and red, irritated scieras. Kol bared his teeth, displaying his sharpened fangs. When Aniya didn't flinch, the monstrous features crawled back into hiding, and Kol's curious face remained.

    Then, she smiled, almost satisfied with her discovery.

    "Was there any particular reason you wanted to see that, or were you just exhausted from staring at my gorgeous face for so long?"

    "Is this typically how you flirt with women in the twenty-first century?"

    Kol shrugged then, straightening his back and heading back in the direction of the Abattoir. Jealousy seemed to spike at Aniya's chest, as she walked a few paces behind him. How wonderful it must have been to be loved by something that hates all else. To be loved by what was perceived to be a monster.

   She pulled the wallet out of her pocket, running her fingers over the faded photograph. She wondered to herself what might have happened if the Hollow has awoken Vihaan, as opposed to her. He might have been stronger. More willing to sacrifice the lives of several humans in exchange for the life he once had; but then, she wondered if he would have been more willing to give up on a marriage that had so clearly died. He would have been willing to sacrifice it all to ensure that she was back on Earth.

    "I'd like to have this mission finished by the end of the night," Aniya revealed, her fingers tugging at the ring around her neck. "We'll find the nearest elderly person, and send them to the cemetery. You'll have your memories returned by midnight, and I'll have the evening to myself."

    "You're going to see your human."

    "Is that so bad?"

    He hesitated. "I suppose not."

[melon-wing]

Animosity [Pirate AU]

[Pirate AU Masterlist]

This story is set a few years after the events of ‘Trauma’.

~

“Cadet! You missed a spot over there!”

Loud clanging of metal rang under deck as the metal bucket was kicked over, spilling muddy water all over the floor. Grian balled his fists holding the dirty piece of fabric he had been cleaning with. He had been almost done with his duties for the day. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. If he spoke up now, he’d be reprimanded again. And if there was one person that seemed to hate him more than the First Mate it was his Captain.

“I’m sorry. I’ll get right back to it”, he said in a flat voice.

There was a grunt of annoyance – probably at his tone – and the bucket was kicked once again, flying into his direction and hitting him in the chest, splattering some left over muddy water all over him.

“Try again, cadet.”

Grian gritted his teeth, starring up at the First Mate, trying to keep his hate from showing. “I’m sorry, sir.”

The older man nodded and walked past him, right through the muddy puddle and Grian knew he’d be busy cleaning everywhere once more.

“Why were we the ones who needed to take a rebellious orphan runt like you… I hope some pirate gets rid of the burden for us soon”, the First Mate muttered under his breath, but Grian could still hear him. The moment the man walked around the corner, Grian held up his middle finger, mouthing a few choice words in the direction.

He remembered being so happy when he had finished his last classes at the navy’s academy. He had graduated with top grades and had been promised a good position… So they had put him onto a ship with some really prestigious overly-decorated people. Prestigious assholes was more like it. The last time those guys had done any amazing feat, TFC had probably still roamed the six seas.

Grian took another deep breath, looking at the mess he’d have to clean up and sighed. He wiped off his hand on his shirt and then took out his locket to look at the small picture. It always helped him calm down before.

“And this was your dream? Scrubbing floors in the darkness? Or would they have let you out there with your charming smile?”, he whispered, pausing for a second before shaking his head at his own antics. Taurtis wouldn’t have been back-mouthing higher ups landing him below deck. Taurtis would have been smiling through it all. If only Taurtis was here and they could go through this together.

Grian sighed in annoyance at himself. If Taurtis would be here, Grian would either be still rotting on that damn island or living the life of a pirate, killing and torturing innocent people. He would have become a dirty criminal. He couldn’t complain about being forced to clean a little. One day he’d have his own fleet below him and then nobody could order him around anymore.

And so he kept scrubbing the deck, praying that none of the other higher-ups would walk up and force him to start all over again. A few minutes later he could hear footsteps, clenching his hand around the rag, not daring to look up. If he didn’t make eye-contact they sometimes pretended he wasn’t there and went on.

“Grian?”

Grian’s head snapped up, his whole face lighting up. There was only one person on this ship that would pronounce his name in such a weird and endearing way.

“Sam!”

The moment he stood up, Sam took in his dirty appearance and his mood darkened. “Who did that? And don’t tell me again that you stumbled. We both know it’s never true.”

The brunette smiled at him, but soon his eyes travelled over the mess on the floor. “Did they put you on cleaning duty again? Man, those old men don’t deserve someone as good as you. They are wasting all your talent.”

Grian smiled at the compliment and slowly stood up. “It’s alright. I haven’t been on this ship that long yet. It’s normal for the new guy to do stuff like that.”

Grian just shrugged, looking down at his muddied uniform. What was he supposed to say? They both knew what was going on around here, but there was nothing they could do about it and Grian didn’t want to risk Sam getting into a fight with the first mate – again.

“Don’t worry, Sam. I’m used to cleaning. It’s not different from the work mama used to give us back in the orphanage.”

Sam’s face seemed to lighten and he chuckled a little. “Well as I remember you and Taurtis loved to ditch exactly those chores to go play pirate and navy, leaving me to clean up the mess.”

“Oh, please” Grian laughed as well “As if you ever did any work. You had all the younger kids wrapped around your finger, doing all the work for you. No wonder mama called us the troublemaker trio. We were really bad… the three of us.”

Grian sighed and let his hang a little, his hand automatically searching for the locket beneath his clothes. “Good times...”, he whispered quietly, only to be suddenly engulfed by arms, pulled into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there anymore to save him.”

Grian just shook hist head. “That’s not your fault. I’m glad you weren’t there to get hurt, so I have at least one of you still with me.” Sam gently caressed Grian’s back, helping him calm down from the memory of Taurtis’ death.

“Still… I should have just waited two more years until you guys were old enough to join the navy with me. Maybe things could have been different then.” Grian shrugged at that. Things might have been different if Sam had been there. Sam had always been the best fighter amongst the three of them. But against pirates? If Sam had been there Grian might now be mourning two friends instead of one.

With a sigh Sam finally let go of him, smiling at him with so much pity in his eyes. “Now who did that to you Grian?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

Grian didn’t answer at first. He didn’t want to get Sam into trouble, but he felt the need to share what was happening, if only to have a place to vent. “It was the First Mate...”, he finally admitted quietly. In an instant Sam’s face was furious again and Grian was sure that he’d do something stupid if he didn’t stop it. “You can’t fight with him about that. You’ll only make things worse. Especially not now, so close to your promotion! They might take it back.”

Sam seemed to calm down at his words, if only by a little. "This sucks! They shouldn't be allowed to do shit like that! It's not fair. Once I'm Captain I won't do something like that."

Grian smiled at his friend warmly. He knew Sam would be an amazing captain. He was just naturally good with people, all charming and charismatic. "You won't have to wait much longer."

"Listen Grian..." Sam looked at him out of serious eyes. "When I become Captain next week, I'm gonna try to get the higher ups to transfer you to my ship. I won't let you stay behind. I could imagine no better First Mate than you."

Grian blushed a little at the compliment. Sam had that way of always making him so cheerful with just a few words. "That would be really nice. I'd like to serve on your ship." He had looked up to Sam his whole life after all. Commandeering a ship alongside him would be like a dream come true.

"And now let me help you out a little, alright?"

"You shouldn't! If someone sees..."

"Nonsense. I might be an Officer, but I'm not above helping out a fellow crewmember."

Sam got onto his knees, picking up one of the cleaning rags and smiling up at Grian. "Now come on. If we do it together, we'll be done soon."

It took them both almost half an hour, but they were finally done. Grian wiped the sweat from his brow, looking to Sam with a satisfied smile. He opened his mouth to say something when he heard the sound of steps approaching. Sam jumped up hurriedly, hiding the cleaning rag behind his back just in time before the Captain walked around the corner.

"Officer Sam, Cadet Grian." The Captain looked from Grian on the floor to Sam and raised his eyebrows. "Officer Sam, I do hope for your own good that you didn't help with the chores.”

"No, sir! Of course not!"

"Because if you did I might need to write you up and that might delay your promotion so we can keep you here a little longer."

Grian could see the way Sam's hands tensed behind his back, clinging to the rag, which was hard prove of what he had just done. The Captain walked up to Sam and Grian acted on instinct. He hurried to his feet, pretending to knock the bucket over by accident, water hitting the Captain's shoes, who jumped back in surprise. Grian took the moment their Captain wasn't paying attention to rip the rag out of Sam's hand.

"So sorry, Captain! I didn't mean to do that! I am really sorry!"

The Captain looked at him furiously and then his eyes snapped back to Sam. "You two trying to hide something?", he spat and Sam took his hands out behind his back, raising him defensively in front of him. "I was just talking to Cadet Grian, I swear."

The Captain grumbled. Grian was pretty sure he knew that was a lie, but didn't care enough to call them out on it. "Leave now, Officer, before I change my mind!"

Sam looked at Grian, hesitating, but Grian shook his head a little. If Sam stayed back he'd only make it worse for both of them. With a last worried look, Sam saluted and walked away, probably back to his post.

"Cadet Grian! You will clean this mess at once."

"Yes, sir. Of course."

The Captain then eyed him from top to bottom, sneering at his dirty uniform.

"Cadet Grian... How many times do I need to tell you, that you have to keep yourself presentable. You are no longer a dirty orphan boy. The navy paid for your education, the least you could do is look nice and presentable to thank them."

"I'm sorry, sir, but it was..."

"Oh by the gods, I don't want to hear your whiny excuses again, Cadet! When you are done here, freshen up and then go to the kitchen. You are on potato peeling duty for tonight."

"But..."

"Also on pan cleaning duty after we are done. Don't make me take your food away as well."

Grian hesitated, but nodded. "Yes... sir."

"That'd be 'Thanks for letting me have dinner, sir.'" The Captain looked at him smugly, clearly enjoying the way he made Grian bow under him.

"Thanks for letting me have dinner... sir."

Grian didn’t dare to raise his head until the steps had retreated far enough. On days like these he wished he was still back at the navy academy. His teachers had always been nice to him, telling him he’d do great things in the future. He missed the days when Sam had come to his room to help him study. Here everybody seemed to think he’d gotten his good grades because of his looks after some nasty rumour about him being involved with his teachers had spread. But he’d pull through. Once Sam had his own ship he’d follow him. Everything would be better then.

~

Grian yawned, rubbing his eyes a little and then returned to scrubbing the pans. Everybody else on deck was laughing and having fun. His Lieutenant had decided that no help was needed for cleaning up, which meant Grian would spend half of the night in here to clean up everything. If he was lucky he’d get three hours of sleep before he needed to get up again. That was if the Captain or First Mate didn’t decide that he’d need more punishment.

He had hoped that maybe Sam would sneak in to help him out a little, but he probably hadn’t managed to find an excuse to get away. Grian hummed a little to himself, a tune that had been stuck in his mind since forever, that always raised his mood.

He just put in another pan, when a loud bang echoed over the ocean and their ship shook. The wooden basin Grian was using for cleaning tipped over, spilling some of the water over Grian. Damn he was going to be in trouble with his Captain again. What was going on up there? Did some idiot drink too much and fire one of the cannons again? Grumbling a little Grian put the cleaning rack into his back pocket and tried to heave the basin back up again.

There was another thundering sound and Grian could hear shouting and screaming. No. This wasn’t a drunken mistake. They were under attack. Grian ripped off his apron and ran up to the deck. The moment he opened the door, smoke entered his lungs and he began coughing. Parts of the deck were on fire, some of his crewmates already hurrying to put them out.

Another deafening boom of a cannon shook the deck. Grian turned his head into the direction it had come from. There was another ship, sailing parallel to them, all canons smoking. Grian’s gaze travelled up to the flag and his heart sank. A red flag pirate ship. This was going to be bad. Another cannon fired and hit their ship in the side, making it shake. Fuck. Grian needed to get ready and quick. He ran back under deck, cursing himself for not carrying his sword with him at all times. He had done it in the beginning, just as the rules stated, but everybody had kept teasing him about it.

Grian stepped out of the door and was already met with a sword. The pirates must have boarded the ship while he had been running for his weapon. Grian held his own weapon up in defence and began to engage in the battle. His eyes kept darting around, trying to find Sam in all of this chaos. They always fought best together and Sam was the only one Grian trusted 100 percent to have his back.

He skidded through the hallways, diving into his room and grabbing his trusted sword. It had helped him through many fights, it would do its job now once more.

“Protect me, Taurtis”, he whispered a little out of breath, touching the locket softly as he was running for the deck once more.

Grian managed to push his opponent back enough for him to hit the railing, and one shove with his elbow made him fly overboard. He suppressed the urge to shout for Sam, knowing that it might draw unwanted attention to himself. His eyes darted back and forth. There were multiple pirates on board now, fighting with his crew. He didn't dare to look too closely at the bodies on the floor. If they followed the principles of their red flag all of those men would be dead or dying. In the crowd his eyes were suddenly drawn to his Captain who was having a hard time fighting. Grian rushed over, but a guy stepped in his way, smiling brightly.

"I'd rather you look at me now, boy", his opponent said with an amused undertone, completely unbefitting of a battlefield. Grian’s head snapped back and he moved just in time to block one of the sword strikes. Unlike his first opponent, this guy was actually quite good at fighting and they were pretty evenly matched, especially with Grian's attention constantly being drawn to his Captain's battle. Why was nobody helping him? Where was the first mate? Where was Sam?

"I don't think so, boy. Give our Captains some private time", the pirate said in an amused tone, flipping his ponytail over his shoulder before pointing his weapon at Grian.

Grian looked past him and his heart fell. He recognised the opponent his Captain was facing. They all knew about him: Captain Doc. Grian had already heard about him when he'd still been in the academy. Raised by the frightening TFC, Doc had taken over his ship, swearing revenge on every human being for the death of his father.

"You are really starting to annoy me. You in love with my Captain or why do you keep looking over there?"

Grian felt fury rising inside him. He practically glowered at his opponent and with one elegant turn batted his sword away and rammed his elbow into the guy's face, making him stumble back a little.

There was a loud scream and suddenly Grian felt like everything was happening in slow motion. He turned his head to the side and saw the body of his Captain falling, blood spraying from his throat. Doc stood in front of him, bloody blade still raised. Everything seemed to stop for a moment as Doc looked emotionless at the fallen body. He then raised his head, looking around and for a second their eyes met. And then everything went back to normal speed as Grian's opponent came charging at him again and Grian had to defend himself.

"YOU BASTARD!"

A guttural scream echoed over the deck, and Grian would recognise that voice anywhere: Sam. Grian was being pushed back by his opponent, but he still couldn't focus his attention onto the battle. He kept looking sideways. Sam was running up to the fallen body of their Captain, murderous eyes on Doc. And then Sam raised his blade and charged Doc.

Grian's heart sank. Nobody had ever won a battle against Captain Doc. Nobody ever survived to tell about a battle fought against him. He froze, as images of Sam's bloody body flashed in front of his eyes, reminding him suddenly of Taurtis' death. A sudden pain in his right side brought him back to the present. He had been too slow and the blade of his opponent had scraped by his hip, leaving a bloody scratch. Grian cursed and hurriedly stepped back, blocking the next attack coming in. He needed to finish this. He needed to help Sam. He couldn't lose another friend. Sam was all he had left from his old life. The only good thing still here.

Grian felt determination rise inside him and he began relentlessly raining attacks upon his opponent, who looked at him in surprise, but then simply smiled enthusiastically, fighting just as fierce. Grian could hear Sam shouting insults at Doc, but the pirate stayed silent or just wasn't loud enough for Grian to hear. He kept listening to the insults but otherwise focused on his own fight. As long as Sam was shouting, he was alright. As long as he was shouting he was alive.

"You should just give up, boy. It is futile. Give up and I might let you live."

Grian huffed, looking with hatred at the pirate. "Sure thing, red flag", he spat out, watching the pirate pull a grimace at his words. Well look at that, a pirate not being happy with being called a murderer. Where was that dumb pirate pride of his?

A loud scream stopped his train of thoughts. Sam!

Grian's eyes drifted over and he saw Sam's blade sliding over the deck as he fell onto his back. Doc was slowly walking closer. Adrenalin rushed through Grian's body. When his opponent charged again Grian ducked under the blade and forgoing his own weapon, he used his free fist to punch the pirate square into the face. His opponent fell backwards and Grian ran off without one glance back.

Doc raised his blade. Sam was still on the floor.

A loud clang and Grian's whole arm was shaking as he blocked the attack by the Pirate Captain.

"Don't interrupt my duel." Doc's voice was a low threatening growl and it sent shivers down Grian's spine, but he stood his ground, glaring at the Captain.

Doc's gaze travelled to the side, furrowing his brows as his eyes landed on Grian's former opponent who leaned against the railing, holding his bloody nose.

"Ren, did you seriously let a little boy beat you? Tell me again why I made you my First Mate." The pirate – Ren – shrugged and gave his Captain a lop sided grin. Doc sighed and turned back to Grian, eyes searching him. "Interesting."

Grian knew he had to do something. He couldn’t let Doc end Sam’s life.

"I challenge you to a duel. If I win, you let the rest of the crew live", Grian said, trying to sound confident in the face of certain death. He couldn't care less for half of his crew, but he'd do anything to save Sam.

Doc smirked, sharp shark-like teeth showing, not a hint of joy in his face. "Oh, boy. No need to challenge me. I'll fight every single one of you if I have to. But do tell me what I'd gain from accepting that deal. What's in it for me?"

Grian faltered. He hadn't thought this far. In the navy, challenges like that would be accepted based on honour alone, but that seemingly mattered little to a pirate. What would he even have to offer?

"Scared to lose, pirate?"

"Never. I'm just curious what you think you have to offer to come in between me and my prey."

"If I lose I'll join you", Grian blurted out. Doc looked at him taken aback and then burst out laughing.

"And what makes you think, I'd want you?"

Grian shrugged. "Maybe the fact that I beat your First Mate without really paying attention to the fight." Okay maybe that was stretching it a little, but if it helped him get Doc to accept it didn't matter.

Doc's eyes travelled to Ren again, who was now fighting another one of Grian's crewmates, face still bloody.

"You got yourself a deal. When I win I'll take you and you get to watch me kill all of your little friends and if I get bored with you, I'll kill you off as well." Grian noticed the way Doc had talked about 'when' he would win, not 'if'. He swallowed. What made him think he could win against Doc, when nobody had ever managed that?

The fight started without any more warning. Doc was relentless, raining hit after hit upon him. Grian swore he could see sparks flying when their swords met. Unlike in the fight against Ren, he couldn't risk losing even a little part of his concentration. If he let his attention waver for even one second he'd lose in the blink of an eye.

Grian ground his teeth together and then started becoming more aggressive. If he just stayed defensive there was no way he'd be able to win. He needed to win. If he didn't then Sam would die. He couldn't bare watching another one of his friends die before his eyes.

Doc raised an eyebrow at him as Grian began hitting back, trying to find an opening for an attack. But Doc was always fast enough to block him, fluidly moving into a counter attack. Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed a few pirates watching them, no longer fighting. That meant nothing good for the rest of the crew. At least noone intervened, letting their Captain fight his battle on his own.

There was a whimper to the side, from one of the pirates and Grian noticed Doc's eyes filling with worry and darting to a white haired man for a second. Grian jumped at the opportunity immediately, blade flying forward. Doc's eyes snapped back to him at once and he hit the blade to the side, a grin on his face. And too late Grian realised that this had been a part of Doc’s strategy. Grian’s blade flew out of his hand, far off to the side. He hurriedly took a step back. Doc was grinning widely now, holding his blade up, pointing it straight at Grian's throat.

"Looks like I win. How naive of you to think a boy like you could win against me."

Grian's eyes were darting around hurriedly, looking for a way out, a way to win. He had no more weapons on him. The only thing he still had was...

Grian hurriedly moved, pulling the cleaning rag out of his back pocket. He wrapped the rag around his hand, movement hidden behind his back, heart beating like crazy. If this didn't work he was done for. And if it worked it might still hurt him beyond repair. All in all it was a stupid idea. Grian's eyes darted to Sam for a second. Sam who was being held to the floor by two pirates, probably so he couldn't intervene in their fight. With determination in his eyes, Grian turned back to Doc.

"Got a little knife hidden behind your back or something?", Doc taunted in amusement and then strode forward faster, raising his hand and bringing it down fast. Grian swallowed hard and sidestepped the attack. When the sword was right next to him, his arm shot out and he grabbed the blade with his wrapped hand, holding it in an iron grip. Doc had been so sure of his victory and just a second too slow to react. His grip wasn't as hard as Grian's and he couldn’t free his blade fast enough.

Instead of pulling as Doc most likely expected, Grian shoved hard, feeling the blade cutting into his skin, but he ignored the blinding pain. Doc seemed to stumble a little and Grian used the opportunity to kick at his legs, making the Captain fall backwards, pulling Grian with him. As they were falling he kept a tight grip on the blade and with one strong pull he managed to rip the blade out of Doc's grasp. In one fluid motion he turned the sword around, still holding onto the blade with his bleeding hand, the other hand grabbing onto the handle and when they landed he pressed the side of the blade under Doc's chin, sitting atop of the fallen Captain.

"One wrong move and I'll kill you, pirate."

Doc looked up at him out of breath, his eyes wide and full of surprise. For a moment they were just staring at each other as the deck fell into complete silence, the sounds of fighting and cheering coming to an abrupt end. A few seconds passed and then Grian heard hurried steps coming closer. His hands began shaking as he pressed the blade a bit harder against Doc's throat, drawing a bit of blood.

"Stop, Etho. Noone touch him."

The steps behind him stopped, but Grian was still on edge. Doc below him seemed to have recovered from his surprise and looked at him almost bored.

"What is your name, boy?"

"G... Grian."

Doc smirked at him, looking rather intrigued. "Grian, huh?" The way Doc rolled the name on his tongue, voice almost growling, made Grian falter, loosening the pressure of the blade a little. And suddenly a knee hit him in the stomach, as Doc threw him off, their positions switching, the blade back in Doc's hand. Doc was now the one leaning over him, looking down at him in deep thought. The sword was resting at Grian's throat, bound to kill him any moment.

~

"Should have killed me when you had the chance, Grian", Doc said with a smirk. Grian closed his eyes, expecting his life to end any second, but it didn't. When he was opening his eyes again, Doc was still looking at him as if he was thinking about something.

"Ren! Call our men back. We are leaving."

"You sure, Doc? You never…"

Doc still kept his eyes on Grian as he replied. "Grian and me had a deal after all. He won. We will leave." Doc leaned closer, his lips now right next to his ears as he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Mark my words, Grian. The next time we meet, I will kill you. Noone ever fights me and lives to tell the tale."

And as sudden as it came the pressure on Grian's neck was gone and Doc stood back up, leaving Grian lying on the floor. Grian stared after him as he went over to Ren and true to his words the pirates were leaving, one after the other jumping back onto their ship. Sam finally rushed over, helping him into a sitting position and firing a flurry of questions at him. But Grian couldn't hear anything, his whole attention still focused on the pirate Captain. Doc climbed the railing and turned around to look at him one more time, smirking devilishly and taking a bow, before taking a rope and swinging over to his own ship.

"Grian? Grian! Talk to me! Are you alright?"

With Doc gone Grian was slowly noticing everything else around him. The Deck was on fire, bodies lying everywhere. Sam was looking at him in worry and Grian nodded slightly. "You?"

Sam smiled and pulled him into a crushing hug.

"You are an idiot. You could have died!"

"Well, I'm glad I'm an idiot or I would have lost you."

The following days seemed to pass in a blur, so many things happening all at once, almost overwhelming Grian. It was a wonder they had managed to make their way back to the navy headquarters with the state their ship had been in after the battle, but they did. The casualties of the fight had been high. The ship's first mate had miraculously survived without even one drop of blood on him, taking over the Captain's position of their ship at once. Grian had been forced to go to the hospital as soon as they had returned. Luckily for him the doctor there had been able to fix his hand, but had told him that the wound would leave behind a scar he'd carry forever.

Grian's eyes searched the crowd of navy soldiers as he stepped into a huge room, slowly walking over the walkway left open in the middle. His eyes landed on Sam, smiling back at him, looking all dashing in his brand new Captain's uniform. Grian returned the smile and stepped up a few stairs towards an admiral, stopping in front of the old man and saluting.

The admiral pinned a medal to the lapel of Grian's brand new uniform and his stoic expression disappeared as he smiled at Grian proudly.

"Congratulations. You are the rising star of the navy... Lieutenant Grian."