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whatsnewalycat · 2 years ago

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Psychomanteum / Chapter 1

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Chapter 1: Honey, This Mirror Isn't Big Enough for the Two of Us

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: You've recently taken on the customer-facing responsibilities of the small-scale cannabis bakery you and your late husband ran out of your apartment, which introduces you to occasional customer, Dieter Bravo. A friendship is sparked when you realize you have something in common: you've both died. What Dieter doesn't tell you about his near-death experience, though, is that it foretold his life with you.

Word Count: 6.2k+

Content / Warnings: alternating POV, death, sitting shiva, stitches / scars, cannabis, edibles, drug use, alcohol use, haunted mirrors, spooky stuff, verbal argument, face slap, cheating, sexual grieving, a dick named Glenn, meet cute

Notes: Chapter title from "Honey, This Mirror Isn't Big Enough for the Two of Us" by My Chemical Romance. Hey friends! I have a couple things right off the bat: (1) the reader has a name (Louella/Lou/Lua) and has scars and tattoos, but no other physical descriptors; (2) I'll be trying to release new chapters on Saturdays.

[ Tag List ] [ AO3 ] [ Title Song ]

When people ask what it’s like to die, you’re supposed to tell them it’s terrible, even though it isn't. Like leaving a shitty yelp review for a restaurant when you actually really loved the food, but you have a vendetta against the owner and their staff.

Death Louella F. Rating: 0/10 Scary as fuck. Not in a cool, vintage way like Bram Stoker’s Dracula, but in more of a can-you-believe-people-cream-their-pants-over-this-shit way like Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight. Ugh. They sent me away at the door and wouldn’t even tell me why. RUDE!!!! I would rather die than go back.

It’s only polite, after all. If everyone knew that it fucking rules to be dead, nobody would stay here in these decaying bodies, on this doomed fucking rock floating through space. So, when your good friends (like good good friends) ask, you give them the inside scoop.

Death Louella F. Rating: 10/10 The single most magical thing to happen to me during my existence in the mortal realm. Truly ethereal. I only had the 1 hour trial, and I wanted upgrade to the forever package, but my dad forced me to return to my meatbag (BOOO!). Can’t wait to do it again. Absolutely TO DIE FOR!!!

That’s why, now, when your just ok friend Kourtney comes over on the last day of sitting shiva in your apartment, and she asks you what was it like to die? in the same cadence she asks how's your mom?, you don’t tell her the truth.

You don’t tell her than every waking moment you’re alive now is torture because you don't understand why you weren’t allowed access to the club. Why could Ethan go, but not you? What could you possibly have left to do that doesn’t include him?

Instead, you give her a wane smile and joke, “Oh, ya know, I had better shit to do, so here I am.”

Her big sky blue eyes soften and her shoulders slump when you tell her this. Then she threads her blonde eyebrows together and gives a sympathetic frown, “Oh, honey.”

No matter how many times you try this line, everyone responds with pity. You need some new material. Kourtney wanders off into the kitchen before you can respond.

When you look around the living room from your vantage point on a sitting stool, you briefly notice that all of the other visitors are gravitating towards the kitchen, too. Then the opaque black stain that looks like a black hole in the middle of your otherwise pristinely white carpet catches your eye. You tilt your head as you study it, wondering how it can be so impossibly dark.

“Are you ready, Lou?” your father-in-law, Adam, asks you from across the room.

You lift your gaze and look around at the other sitters, realizing they're all staring at you expectantly.

“Yeah, yep,” you finally respond, then get to your feet. They follow suit.

After gathering their belongings, Ethan's immediate family crowds around your apartment's entryway to bid their farewells. His mom and dad tell you that they’ll call you in a few days to check in on you. You believe it. Unlike everyone else that promised you’d “talk soon,” Adam and Sarah mean it.

"If you need anything, and I mean anything at all, please don't hesitate to call us," Sarah tells you, then scoops you into a great big hug. When she pulls away, she holds you by the shoulders and stares at you with tears pooling in those brown eyes that break your fucking heart. You look away when you say goodbye.

Your stepson, Ben, literally scoffs when you tell him to call you if he wants to talk about it. Which is just like a 16-year old to do. When his mom is distracted, fussing over your stepdaughter, you try to level with Ben.

"Listen. I know. I know people just say that. My dad died when I was 16, too. It fucking sucks. And I get it. So if you wanna talk to someone who knows which shade of 'this fucking sucks' you're going through, I'm your guy."

This time when he responds, the snotty tone is gone. It's replaced by a morose veil over his eyes and he just nods, "Ok."

The 12-year old, Talia, saves your phone number and tells you she’ll send you snapchats.

Even though you iterate these comforting half-promises to communicate in the future, when you tell Ethan's kids you’d “talk soon,” you don’t mean it. They don’t, either. But that’s alright. You never thought the too-little-too-late maternal bonding would stick, anyway.

Once the last mourning visitor leaves, and door clicks shut, you deadbolt it, and you’re... alone. It's surreal. Moping around the silent apartment, you reorganize things to your liking, collect sitting stools, and tug the fabric off the mirrors. You're stunned momentarily after each reflection you unveil.

The person you see is a stranger. Your skin is very Bride of Frankenstein, stitched together with pieces of tattooed corpses. Just over a week ago, your body was twisted and mangled, but doctors slapped you back together in time to bury your husband. Briefly, you consider covering all of the mirrors again until you're farther along in the healing process, but decide against it. What the fuck does it matter, anyway.

For at least five minutes, you're anchored in front of the spare bedroom door, its key pinched tightly between your thumb and index finger. You locked it last week to keep nosy visitors from poking around during shiva. God only knows what kind of shit they would stumble upon, considering how out-of-control Ethan was towards the end. Not to mention the deep freezer filled with bulk amounts of flower and cannabutter.

There are two huge mirrors in the room that you want to uncover. But this room is- well, was- his space. On most days, he spent hours in there, isolating, listening to music, hanging out with friends, or whatever else. Not like you'd know, since it was just another club you weren't invited to join. A deep sense of foreboding infiltrated your psyche when you covered the damned things, and it somehow feels worse now.

A fuzzy, uncomfortable buzzing starts under your skin as you stare at the old brass door knob. You’re just about to say fuck it and try again later when something clatters from inside the room. Your hands work on their own accord. They slide the skeleton key into its slot, then turn the knob and push the door open. It swings back on its hinges with a groan and butts up against the doorstop with a thud.

The room is neat and clean, like it was a week ago, but you immediately notice two things that make your hair stand on end:

The picture frame

The mirrors

When moving into this apartment, Ethan insisted the 4x6” ceramic picture frame be transported on your lap from the dumpy apartment in Bushwick. His little brother, Benji, gave it to him for his birthday the summer before he fell through the ice. The photo depicts a 12-year old Ethan with his arm around his little brother’s shoulders, both smiling from ear-to-ear as they hold up the fish they caught off the dock of their childhood home in Eagle Bay, NY.

One bare nail stands erect on the navy blue wall. That’s where it was hanging when you locked the door last week. But now, the picture frame is propped up by the easel back in the middle of the shiny hardwood floor.

It doesn’t make sense.

On the westernmost and easternmost walls, the matching set of Regency era mirrors, which hang across from one another, are uncovered. Their intricate bevels are illuminated by the fading sun, casting shadows into the mahogany frames. The bedsheets you covered them with last week are crumpled on the floor beneath them.

“Why are you covering the mirrors?” you asked your great-grandma, watching her from the doorframe of your parents’ room with curiosity. Her paper-thin skin drooped over the hills and valleys of her hands, shifting over bones and blood vessels as she secured a white cotton bedsheet to the full-length mirror with clothespins.

“So his spirit doesn’t get trapped inside,” she explained simply.

You shake the memory from your head.

They’re just mirrors.

Ignoring every cell in your body that screams at you to get the fuck out, you take a few cautious steps forward, then pick the picture frame up off the ground. The pad of your thumb rubs against the smooth finish of the white ceramic. An ache radiates across your chest as you stare at the young boys with their matching smiles, backdropped by tall pines and open waters. Suspended in time, happy and carefree in their favorite place.

Now they’re both fucking dead.

The urge to cry tingles at the back of your throat. You look up at the bare nail sticking out of the wall across the room and march towards it. A shiver of warning runs down your spine as you walk past the antique mirrors. You mount the frame on the wall in its place.

But then you’re frozen.

Spiders are crawling around inside your spinal column, spinning webs, exploring every inch. And, it’s fucking insane, just childhood memories fucking with your head, but you swear you feel eyes on your back. A shudder racks your body. You look straight down at your feet, holding all of your concentration steady on them as you turn around towards the door.

The buzzing in your bones intensifies. Instinct engrained in the folds of your brain for a millennia, since homo sapiens were hunters and gatherers, urges you to look up look up look up because someone is watching you. Hunting you.

Fighting your seized muscles, you make yourself take one step forward.

Adrenaline floods your bloodstream and spurs you into action without thought. Your feet carry you past the mirrors, out of the room. The spiders mobilize, scurrying inside your spine, making you nauseous. As your trembling hands fumble with the doorknob, your eyes betray you.

They flick to the westernmost mirror.

And just barely… you think you see someone staring back at you.

“What is this?” Anika’s Bulgarian accent is the first thing Dieter hears as she shakes him out of sleep. His response is to roll away from the nuisance and pull the white duvet over his head. She jumps off of the bed and yanks the blanket away from him in a series of furious tugs as she hisses, “No. No sleep. Get up.”

When she succeeds in retrieving the whole blanket, she throws it on the floor by her feet, exposing Dieter's naked body to the megawatt afternoon sun. The intrusion sets him off, and he groans, pinching his nose in response to the headache throbbing in his eyes and nose, “Fuckin’ a, Annie, what?”

Sitting up, eyes still closed, he grumbles, “What could be so fucking important-“ he cracks open an eye, throwing his palm down against the mattress in frustration, then sees the headline displayed the iPhone she's holding in front of his face.

LEAKED: DIETER BRAVO PARTYING WITH INSTAGRAM MODEL

He squints as he reads it again, then snatches the phone away, scrolling through the short article on the tabloid magazine DIRT’s website.

The Cliff Beasts 6 star, Dieter Bravo, was spotted with Instagram model, Lilly Stokes, getting hot-and-heavy at several LA nightclubs late last night. Reportedly, the duo were heavily intoxicated, seen taking shots and snorting lines of illicit substances. In the photos obtained by DIRT, the disheveled Bravo, sporting a half-buttoned floral shirt and jeans, can be seen groping Stokes, dressed in a hot pink slip dress and stilettos, as she straddles the actor in a roped-off section of Aspect’s VIP lounge. This scandal is surfacing amid rumors of Bravo’s marriage with Anika Bravo being strained to the breaking point. Dieter and Anika met in 2020 during the filming of Cliff Beasts 6, a film made infamous by the hit documentary Beasts of the Bubble. The couple tied the knot in 2021, immediately following their escape from Clifton Hotel. In one of their only public appearances together, the newlywed couple raised eyebrows when they brought fitness guru Kate Ridley with as their date to the Beasts of the Bubble premiere. Since then, the Academy Award winning actor has been under fire for alleged infidelity and drug abuse, as well as displaying bizarre behavior, such as his appearance on The View in September, when he told host Meghan McCain that he “hopes hell is real so (her) dad burns there forever.”

As promised, the article includes a slideshow of photos depicting him and Lilly making out in a booth at Aspect the previous night. Dieter tosses the phone to the side, and all he can do is shrug, staring up at her with cold eyes, “Whaddya wanna know?”

They sit here like this for a beat, frozen in their stubbornness. As if he doesn’t know the question on her mind.

She blinks, swallows hard, and crosses her arms in front of her body. Then finally breaks and asks, “Is it true?”

As if she doesn’t know the answer.

He grinds his jaw back and forth, considering the consequences of what he’ll say next. She stares at him.

Fuck it.

“Yeah,” he admits to his wife, averting his gaze as he runs his fingers through his hair, “Yeah I fucked her.”

Anika rears back, then slaps him across the face, gritting her teeth together as she growls, “FUCK YOU!”

His cheek stings as her palm jerks his head to the side. He deserves that.

Sure, he could have lied, but there’s no use in denying it. There he was, caught on camera with Lilly's tongue down his throat and his hands up her dress. From there, they stumbled into the bathroom of the club. He gave the bathroom attendant $200 to guard the door. Then, he snorted coke off her perfect tits, bent her over the granite top sink, and fucked her speechless.

The bathroom attendant won’t be speechless, though. Dieter is sure that for another $200 from any number of tabloids, the gangly, pasty skinned kid would unzip his rubber band lips and tell all.

"Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do, Annie!? You won't fucking touch me!" the cords of his neck stick out as he leans forward barks this into her face.

"Don't deserve to be touched," she spits, narrowing her eyes as she inches so close he can feel her breathe, "Leave me alone all the time. Do you know how lonely I am, Dieter? What kind of man leaves me alone all the time?"

"Fucking AGAIN with this. Really? Every fucking time I come home, it's all I hear," Dieter stands up out of bed and stomps over to the closet, Anika hot on his trail. He starts mocking her, using an exaggerated Bulgarian accent, "Oh I'm so sad, you leave me alone in this big house with all this money, oh nooo!," then he turns on his heel to scoff in her face, "Get over it, for fuck's sake. It's tired."

Her shoulders sag. He knows he went to far. He’s being mean. Cruel, even. But he can't stop. His father’s anger, flooding from his hindbrain through his mouth.

"It's how I feel, Dieter," she squeaks, big brown eyes filling with tears. He starts digging through drawers of the built-in dresser for boxer briefs, then stuffs his legs into a pair. She sobs, "I didn't know it would be like this. So lonely."

"Yeah?! Welcome to my FUCKIN' LIFE!" he screams into her face, then rips a shirt off the hanger and pulls it over his head before storming off.

You sink down into your purple velvet couch and turn on the TV. Fresh-out-the-shower damp hair sticks to your cheek when you rest your head on a black and white checkered pillow. In an attempt to take your mind off what you thought you saw in the spare bedroom earlier, you flip through various streaming services for a distraction. However, your attention is drawn to the shiva candle dwindling down on the fireplace mantle.

Each time it flickers, dread seizes your heart. You hold your breath and watch it, unblinking, until it steadies.

It happens again.

And again.

Your eyes flit to the opaque black ink stain in the middle of your carpet, only for a moment. But it's long enough. When you look back to the candle, the flame is gone. Black smoke curls and dances in celebration around a glowing orange wick.

He’s gone.

This fact creeps into your consciousness slowly, but surely. The same way the cold settles into your bones when the temperature is below freezing. It starts off fine, maybe a little brisk, but manageable. Then your nose, fingers, and toes start to feel frosty. Before you know it, you can't stop shivering, and can't even remember what warmth felt like.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you squeeze every ounce of oxygen from your lungs. Your brain prompts you to inhale. The breath comes as a shattered gasp, and your chest heaves, but the well of pain is too far underground. The tears don't come. You’re unable to tap into it and release the pressure that's been building for nine days. You're about to fucking explode.

Your gaze shifts to the window. It’s dark outside. You try to decide who to reach out to for support. Each person you consider would come over and sit with you as they awkwardly make conversation. They would probably try to talk to you about Ethan, or tell you about how their friend’s cousin had a husband croak on them and they did abc, then xyz, and voilà! They’re cured!

And you just can’t with that shit right now. You don’t want to be pitied. You want to have a normal conversation. One where you aren’t expected to cry and talk about it. You want to be how you were before.

How you were before, but without him.

“Whiskey neat,” Dieter tells the bartender without looking his way.

When he glances up into the mirror behind the bar, he sees the version of himself that Anika hates the most. Mop of curly brown hair stuffed under a baseball cap, sunglasses covering half his face, wearing sweatpants and whatever t-shirt he happened to pull off the hanger before heading out the door.

“Airport Dee,” her lip would curl up and touch the columella of her nose, “I don’t like him.”

“Airport Dee means Working Dee, which is better than Broke Dee, right?” he would try to reason, meeting her eyes over his sunglasses, tugging her closer for a kiss goodbye.

She would arch a brow and back away from him, her sneer firmly in place, “I like Home Dee the most.”

The last few times he left, he didn’t even say goodbye. He thinks that maybe Airport Dee isn’t the version of him she hates the most anymore.

His phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pants pocket to see the text from his wife.

> ANNIEBABY: > If u get on the flight, we’re done

An amused laugh trickles from his throat. The bartender, a handsome, tall, blonde man with terrific posture, slides a coaster in front of Dieter, then places the lowball glass on top of it. Just in time. Dieter picks it up and swallows it in one go, then tells the bartender, who’s foolishly walking away, “Another.”

The bartender turns on his heel and raises a well-kept eyebrow at Dieter, who responds by reaching into his wallet and slamming a $100 bill onto the bar, advising, “This is your tip if you keep ‘em coming and don’t fucking look at me like that again.”

“You got it, boss,” the man responds as he grabs a bottle of bourbon and flips it upside down over Dieter’s cup.

The phone starts buzzing again, but this time it’s his publicist. He picks up with a cheeky, “Darlene, it’s been ages, what in the world could you possibly be calling me about?”

“Just wanted to call and let you know you’re making my life a living fucking hell today,” she volleys the same faux-sweetness back to him.

“Welcome to the club,” he mumbles.

“How’s your wife?”

“Terrible, she’s leaving me,” Dieter drops this bomb, then tells her, “Hey, I’m boarding a flight for the, uhh- the screen test thing, I’ll call you later.”

“Dieter, don’t you fu-“

He hangs up and puts his phone in airplane mode. Morphine was such a good idea.

Instead of the all-consuming anxiety that typically accompanies one’s name trending on Twitter, all Dieter feels is an overwhelming sense of fuck it. That’s what morphine is good for, after all. Not for all the time, though. Just emergencies.

He imagines a bottle of MS Contin but instead of the prescription label it just reads EMERGENCY OBLIVION.

“Having a rough day?” the bartender asks, looking from the discarded phone to Dieter’s smiling face as he leans against the bar.

Dieter giggles and shakes his head, “Fuck off, you don’t care.”

“I- I care,” the bartender frowns, then pushes off and stands up straight.

“You don’t. Not really. You’re just nosy,” Dieter grins with a shrug.

He downs the whiskey, slams the cup against the bartop, then points to it. The bartender refills the cup and fucks off. Dieter sighs with satisfaction and floats into the abyss.

About mid-way through your third vodka cranberry, you start to feel more comfortable in your skin.

A short-statured man hangs his winter coat on the back of the barstool next to you and sits down. A green knit cap hides any indication of hair on top of his head, although a trimmed beard hints that it'll be dark brown if he has any. When he looks your direction through thick rimmed glasses frames, you meet his honey brown eyes and you smile.

Granted, it’s not a smile you really mean, but he’s cute and he sat right next to you at a bar that has plenty of other open seats, so, you’ll play the part.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” he inquires, gaze trailing up and down your form.

You shake your head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks,” he gives you a wide smile, then flags down the bartender and orders a drink.

You sit back and look up to the flatscreen TV playing the Knicks game, pretending to care, watching the teams dribble a basketball from one side of the court to the other. Back and forth, back and forth. It seems so fucking pointless.

“You a Knicks fan?” he asks, following your line of sight to the TV.

“Hmm?” you blink, then realize you are furrowing your brow up at the game as if you’re interested, “Oh, no. I don’t give a shit.”

This makes him laugh. He shows you those pearly whites again, then extends his hand to you, “I’m Dante.”

“Louella,” your hand meets his. It’s warm and sandpapery. His thumb rubs against the back of your hand as you shake.

You ponder what this stranger’s hands would feel like on other parts of your body. What it would feel like to forget, just for a while, that Ethan’s hands were the last ones to touch you. What it would feel like to forget that he’ll never touch you again.

“That’s a really pretty name,” he comments, not letting go of your hand, not ceasing the movement of his thumb on your skin. A tingle trickles down the middle of you and produces goosebumps across your flesh.

It’s the only enjoyable sensation that has managed to rise above the soul-crushing emptiness of the past week and a half. Your skin aches and yearns for more.

You try to stretch your smile wide and make your eyes sparkle as if you’ve never heard that before, “Thank you, Dante.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” he lets go, then leans forward against the bar.

Your eyes flick from his thick lips to his honey brown eyes and you nod.

“Dieter fucking Bravo!” Glenn hollers at his longtime friend as Dieter approaches the well-dressed table.

Friend might not be the right word. Enabler is probably closer to the truth. His nasally voice booms across the dining room, earning a few disgruntled stares from the highbrow patrons expecting a quiet lunch on the Upper East Side.

Dieter offers a nod in the general direction of the outburst, then pulls out the chair perpendicular to Glenn and plops down, picking up the menu as he scoots in his seat.

A peeved, but incredibly handsome, waiter comes to the table and pours ice water in a glass for the new arrival, “Welcome, sir. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Whiskey neat,” Dieter answers, then dismisses the waiter's presence as he glances around the room through tortoiseshell Ray-Bans and tells Glenn, “You finally got your wish. Anika is filing for divorce.”

“About fucking time,” Glenn guffaws and claps his hands together, “Was it the thing with the uh, what’s that broad’s name, Bailey?”

“Lilly,” Dieter corrects.

“Lilly,” Glenn repeats, “Irregardless, congratulations, my friend. Welcome to the divorcee club!”

Dieter’s face scrunches up in disdain at the enthusiasm as he mutters sarcastically, “It’s an honor.”

“We should celebrate,” Glenn winks.

He knows Glenn well enough to know that "celebrate" means "go on an alcohol and drug binge so outrageous, you'll be trying to chase that high for a year." And, fuck, that sounds like a slice of heaven. The last time he "celebrated" with Glenn was pre-COVID. They were awake for 2-days straight, going to nightclubs, stripclubs, country clubs, whatever. It was a blast.

He thinks it was, at least.

“I don’t have to go back to the studio ‘til Wednesday, so I’m game,” Dieter gives a small grin, then rubs his hands together.

The waiter returns with Dieter’s drink and takes their order, then talk of celebrating recommences. Glenn leans over, trying to be as discreet as his voice can manage, “What kind of stuff ya looking for?”

Dieter ponders this, leaning back in his chair as he rolls head on his shoulders and sips his drink. The first thing that comes to mind are these "special" baked goods he gets sometimes when he’s in New York. The guy hand delivers them, and they were better than any pastries he’s eaten otherwise, “straight” or not.

“Doesn’t matter. I just want to get out of my fuckin' head. I’m gonna see if I can get some of those edibles we got last time. The pastries, what’re they called?” Dieter snaps his fingers together trying to jog his memory.

“Cookies?”

Dieter scoffs and shakes his head, “You think I don’t know what a fucking cookie is? No, it was like a donut.”

“Like a…” Glenn screws his face up and shrugs, then takes a sip of his old fashioned, “Like a long john?”

Idiot. Dieter pulls out his phone, clearing notifications from the Lock Screen from his lawyer, Darlene, and Anika, then sends a text message to Ethan.

< ME: < In NYC. Want what I got last time, can u do that?

“I texted the guy,” Dieter advises, then briefly looks at the last message he received from Anika.

> ANNIEBABY: > My father was right about u

He ignores the sharp stab in his chest at this remark, remembering how hard it was to convince her dad that he wasn’t a piece of shit. Just as he’s about to hide his phone again, it buzzes.

> ETHAN NYC: > Idk what you got last time. $150/ dozen pastries. $100/ 2 dozen cookies. $50/ 4 brownies. Have to pick up here now FYI, in downtown Brooklyn.

< ME: < Ok. Surprise me. 12 pastries, 24 cookies, 12 brownies.

> ETHAN NYC: > You got it. Should be ready by tomorrow afternoon. I’ll text you the address when they’re ready.

“Alright, edibles won’t be ready 'til tomorrow, but it’ll be worth the wait,” Dieter announces to Glenn, who’s also fucking around on his phone.

Glenn nods, then looks up around the room and back to Dieter, leaning in as he asks, “So you wanna go do a few lines in the bathroom, or what?”

Once the second-to-last order has been picked up, you pour yourself a glass of wine. It's noon, which you consider a socially acceptable time to start drinking.

You turn the stereo on and start prepping for the next day while you sip wine and sing along to the music on your baking playlist. Aside from getting fucked by Dante in the bar bathroom the other night, baking is the only thing that has taken your mind off of the fact that Ethan is dead.

It's the stupid little things you wouldn't have expected that sting the most.

His prescription refill reminders dinging on your phone. Leftover takeout from the day before the accident starting to emit an unacceptable odor. A package arriving yesterday from something he ordered online. You stare at the nondescript cardboard box now, as it sits next to the stack of outgoing pastry boxes, and wonder what's inside.

All of these things and the deep ache they cultivate... but you still haven't cried. Everything feels so far away, like it's not real. Is this normal? Are you broken?

You swallow the remaining wine in your glass and refill it.

There’s a buzz on the intercom. You pad over to the screaming box, holding your wine glass by the stem as you press the DOOR button.

A knock sounds on the door a minute later, so you turn the stereo down from a roar to a murmur. You open the door to reveal a broad, relatively tall, tan-skinned man. Pillowy lips fold in a frown and he narrows his dark eyes at you. His age shows in the creases of his face and the sparse grays in his patchy facial hair.

“Hi,” you greet the unrefined, but notably handsome, stranger, “Come on in.”

He does so cautiously, furrowing his brow with confusion as he peers around the apartment like a frightened animal, and you explain for the 8th time today while extending your hand to him, “I’m Louella. I’m Ethan’s wife.”

“Dieter,” he meets your hand and shakes it, avoiding eye contact. When he turns his head to the side to examine your kitchen, you catch a glimpse of his profile and feel the urge to run a finger down the center of his aquiline nose.

“Ohhh!” you exclaim as your face heats up, “DEE-ter! Not DIET-er. It’s your name! That makes sense.”

He runs a hand through his mess of curly brown hair, “Yeah.”

When he does this, his knit sweater pulls up over the waistband of his jeans and exposes his bellybutton. Your eyes fall on the soft section of his broad body and you suddenly can’t tell if your mouth is dry, or if you’re drooling, but you swallow hard, and- is it fucking hot in here?

“Sorry,” you shake your head and feel the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck as you make your way over to the kitchen counter, “I just, um, I haven’t really met any of our clients in person. I thought maybe you were someone on a diet? I don’t know. Ethan had all kinds of weird fucking code names for people.”

“I didn’t know Ethan was married,” Dieter comments as he pinches one nostril closed and sniffs, then rolls the sleeves on his sweater up to his elbows. His jaw is clenched like he’s grinding his teeth. He’s practically fucking vibrating.

This dude is coked the fuck up.

“Technically, he’s not anymore, because he’s dead,” you nod, then clear your throat and try to move on to the next subject as you fidget with your apron, “But yeah, I’ve always done the baking, so it’ll be just as good. I just can’t drive. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

His head jerks back and he unleashes a booming, bright laugh that brings an actual smile to your face, “Did you… did you just yadda yadda the fact that he’s dead?”

“Mhmm, yeah,” you laugh nervously. Your entire head is lit ablaze up now as your attention is drawn to his gorgeous smile, “This is like the tenth time I’ve done this today, I’m a little desensitized to it.”

His cheeriness disintegrates as he realizes he's laughing about your recently deceased spouse.

“I’m-“ Dieter’s mouth gapes open and he tries to generate a response. You meet his glossy eyes, and notice now that his pupils are blown out so wide over the dark brown irises, they appear black. They remind you of Ethan. The black ink stain on your carpet.

And they’re filled to the brim with that annoying fucking look. Pity.

“Don’t- don’t say you’re sorry,” you sigh, real smile waning into one that’s painfully forced, then gesture to the stack of boxes on the counter, “Just pay me and you can be on your way.”

Dieter climbs into the backseat and sets the pastry boxes between himself and Glenn. He can’t shake the puzzled look from his face. Glenn lifts the cover off one of the boxes and grabs a brownie as the driver starts off down the street.

“What?” Glenn asks with a mouth still full of brownie. His dilated eyes search Dieter’s face, narrowing with suspicion.

Dieter frowns as he scratches the scruff on his chin, then snaps his head back and forth, cracking his neck, “That was weird.”

“Why? Did he hit on you or something?” Glenn’s words form around the food in his mouth. Dieter’s lip curls in disdain at the homophobic implication. He swears Glenn forgets that Dieter is not straight sometimes.

“No,” he scoffs and turns to dig a pastry out of the box in spite of the cocaine buzzing through his veins, suppressing his appetite.

When he bites into it, he finds it’s exactly the one he was trying to think of yesterday. Apple Danish. His shoulders wiggle and he groans in delight as the flaky crust gives way to apple filling inside. He swallows and clears his throat, “No, it wasn’t even him, it was his wife. The guy died.”

“She hot?” Glenn asks, not looking up from his examination of the remaining brownie.

Dieter nods as he chews, raising his eyebrows to indicate fuck yeah.

“How’d he die?” Glenn questions. His eyes are flicking all around the backseat of the town car, knee bouncing at lightspeed to spend some of his amplified, god-like energy. Dieter can tell he does not give one single fuck, he just wants to move his mouth.

“Didn’t ask,” Dieter takes another bite and throws his head back, groaning “Fuck, that’s good.”

Glenn shoves the rest of the brownie into his cavernous mouth and nods in agreement, “Good call.”

“But, she just casually mentioned that he died,” Dieter shakes his head and swallows the pastry.

“Weird,” Glenn comments in a disinterested tone as he grabs for a bottle of champagne waiting in an ice bucket by his feet.

Dieter licks his fingers and shakes his head again, “That’s not the weird part.”

“Then what the fuck is the weird part?” Glenn snips, growing impatient, all red-hot edges, fueled by cocaine and alcohol.

It wasn’t the off-putting way you spoke about your husband’s death. Or your apartment filled with a haze of loneliness so palpable it felt like someone was squeezing Dieter's heart.

Glenn wipes the brownie crumbs off his hands onto the seat of the car, then passes two champagne flutes to Dieter, who pops the last bite of Apple Danish into his mouth and takes the glasses. The unmistakable champagne POP! makes both the men flinch. Glenn fills both of the glasses that are shaking in Dieter’s unsteady grip. A substantial amount overflows onto the floor of the vehicle.

Dieter takes a swig of the bubbly, then explains, “When I OD’d, before they revived me, I saw her. It was like a memory, man. But it wasn’t, because it didn’t happen yet.”

He thought maybe the wires got crossed with someone else and he got the wrong memory. Fuck, he doesn’t know how it works. In the moments of clarity during his near-death experience, he knew, somehow, that he was seeing the future. His future. Each time he looked back on the experience, though, he grew more unsure.

But you opened that door into your apartment, and it was like déjà vu. High ceilings, purple crushed velvet couch in the living room that reminded him of Prince, pastry boxes stacked on the white granite countertop in the kitchen that looked made for a chef. It smelled like vanilla and pastry crust.

Louella. One of your bare arms looked torn to shreds, tattoos once cohesive now crudely pasted back together, ribbed with newly formed scar tissue. Your smile, the real one, occupied your whole face.

"Weird," Glenn responds. He's scrolling through Twitter on his phone, not even listening.

There was more, though.

Waking up in your bed, morning light spilling onto the two of you like a spotlight, his fingers tracing the map of scars up your leg.

Holding your hand while walking down the icy, snow-dusted sidewalk outside your apartment building.

Kissing you in front of an ordained minister, cheers erupting from the crowd of spectators.

Louella. Who the fuck are you?

[ Next Chapter ]

#dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #pedrostories #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #psychomanteum

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buoyfriend · 3 years ago

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06 - Why Not Try?

“I remember damage.”

If you could grab anything on your way out of your world and take it with you into the unknown as everything you had known slipped into oblivion, what would you take with you? What would you treasure forever? If you lost your ability to see the past plainly, what words would reach you as you’re set adrift into a stranger’s galaxy?

Time slipped out of my grasping hands, disappearing into the bitter Coerthan winds. I lost friend after friend in quick succession, in the Praetorium then the banquet. On our way to Foundation, crossing the Gates of Judgement, I grabbed my canvas backpack and pulled out the book that Thancred had left on my bed. It felt indecent to open before, M’runa’s private thoughts packed into a thick book of thin pages. Nearly every surface covered with thoughts and drawings save for the last twenty odd pages. I imagined Thancred, slipping into her room with ease. I tried to imagine him slipping out of the tunnels below Ul’Dah with the same ease, regrouping somewhere with all of our friends. Y’shtola, Urianger, and Minfilia, sipping an ale, thinking of where to go next. Where to find Alphinaud, Tataru, and I. Minfilia always knew what to do, always where our compass was pointing.

A fresh wave of hot tears brimmed in my eyes as I wiped them away. Alphinaud nor Tataru noticed, staring blankly out at the sea of snow. Powdery waves blanketing the landscape.

When all was said and done, we were safely ensconced in House Fortemps. Haurchefant made good on his promise, and for the first time I heard “my friend, Lua” pass his lips. I truly felt like his friend in fresh clothes, waking in his home from the most restful night of sleep I’d had in weeks. Alphinaud was less lucky, refusing to slip into dreams for fear of what he would find there. Tataru had not returned for the night, choosing instead to settle into The Forgotten Knight, eager to learn Foundation’s gossip.

The first week passed slowly. Haurchefant’s brothers had mixed responses to the Scions’ presence in their home. At the request of our host, I helped with any small task I could. With Emmannellain, I learned that reputation means everything in Ishgard. Quickly, he attempted to use my role as Warrior of Light to his benefit. I felt a wave of embarrassment, followed by appreciation. I understood how he was the baby of the family. No ill intent, just a teen boy wanting some measure of space outside of the shadow of his brothers. I groaned and complained the entire time, but some part of me loved our short adventure together. You could say any number of things about Emmannellain, but he truly was funny. His sweet face stretched into the most serious faces to garner respect, how could you not love him?

Artoirel was another story. The serious faces he made were etched into his skin, a young man wearing an older man’s gait. I like to think that I’d proved myself, that I put to bed any doubts he had about the safety of House Fortemps after they’d taken such a large risk to accept the Scions into their home. I had my doubts, though. Still, I thought he was just as endearing as Emmannellain. I didn’t think he protected House Fortemps’ reputation as if protecting an inheritance, but protecting all within the house. It came from a place of deep love, the same as Haurchefant’s actions for his friends. I knew he doubted me, but I felt safe.

At night, I would bring my bag out from my bedside table and attempt to read Runa’s journal. I couldn’t bring myself to read more than a few words. She had described the first day we met, she thought I’d been “pitiful” and “small”. It was true. She had seen me so clearly, past whatever anyone had said about me as the Warrior of Light. My mind was assaulted another crest of shame as I put her journal back into my bag and reached for the one about the star ship instead. Like a prayer, I repeated the traveler’s words to myself “I remember damage. Then escape. Then adrift in a stranger’s galaxy for a long time.”

On a bright morning, I found my way to the dining hall. Count Edmont sat alone, his sons already out of the door with the rising dawn. I had never spent much time with him that week, feeling shy under his relentless kindness. I took my place at the table, near him but apparently not near enough.

“Come, Lua! Closer, the only thing I mean to bite this morning is my plate of eggs.”

I managed a small laugh, resettling myself at the seat to his left. His face was worn with time, deep grooves in his skin illuminated by the tall windows and stark light. To this day, he has the kindest eyes I know. They rolled over me, assessing the small woman that had taken a place in his home.

“Artoirel and Emmannellain sang your praises this morn. Emmannellain is not much of a surprise, but it is a trial to meet Artoirel’s approval.”

“Oh! That’s a relief. I’d thought him to be suspicious of me.”

“Anyone would be, I’m afraid. Ishgardians are not known for providing warm welcomes to outsiders. Be at ease- House Fortemps has and will always stand apart in this regard.”

I hadn’t noticed how tense my body had been at the mention of Artoirel, my subconscious betraying me, hoping that Artoirel’s stance was not shared by the entirety of his family. Perhaps some surprise that I was successful in earning some measure of trust, so much so that he would share it with his father.

“You may have noticed that Haurchefant bears little resemblance to his brothers and I. My son, my own blood, was an outsider to us for some time. I provided as much support as I could, but he earned his way into the trust of his nation. He worked tirelessly.”

“I’m afraid I don’t-” a splitting headache sliced through my words. I grasped at my temples as a fuzzy image clouded my eyes.

I saw Count Edmont arguing with a woman, Artoirel with longer hair and softer features. She slapped him, a sharp smack cutting through my ears before she turned to run away. A pale haired woman bleeding into a bed clasping Edmont’s hand until it turned the whitest of white. Edmont clutching a wailing baby, pressing against the whistling snow to the doorstep of House Fortemps.

I gathered my thoughts as the dining hall returned to my eyes, Edmont’s face burning with...shame? Embarrassment? Guilt, regret?

“I’m so sorry. I can’t control when it happens, it’s the Echo. Hydael-”

“Hydaelyn’s gift. I understand. A story I’d rather not repeat, I suppose you saved me the shame of speaking the words myself.”

What could I say? It was not my business.

“But you know now, that he was an outsider to his own family. I suffered a great deal to allow him my home, into my family. To pay the price of my shame, of my weak will. The man he has grown to be is no thanks to me. The man he became was through his own honor, through his good heart. Every day I marvel at the wisdom and kindness he shows, that he would seek to welcome others in their time of need just as he thinks I did for him.”

My body relaxed again, sinking into my chair as Edmont said to me “You are welcome here, Lua. You are safe. You are safe because for a mercy, the Fury gave me a son who could see past bitterness and rejection. A son to teach us all the kind of nation we could be.”

His face broke into a wide smile, followed by thunderous laughter. “Now that we’ve spoken plainly and discussed how we both came to be here, let’s speak of lighter things.”

And we did. I felt my fear slip into the endless waves of time, resting in the past behind me. We spoke of my first meeting with the Lord Commander, of Edmont’s assurances that as much as he may play the Ishgardian smoke and mirrors, he was as good hearted as any of his sons. I told him about my adventures through town, the kindly old man who took me on a tour of Ishgardian architecture, the familiarity that rolled over me the first time I laid eyes on the Holy See.

“Does your homeland look much like Ishgard?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t remember it, but I remember buildings like Saint Reymanaud Cathedral. I felt a pang of homesickness.”

“Where is home for you?”

Again, the pit in my stomach. It tugged at me to be truthful, to be honest. To be seen by the kindest eyes. I gave myself to the feeling and told him everything I knew. How I had awoken in Gridania, the books I carried with me, Runa, the warm feeling as I smelled the incense at the cathedral like I’d been there before. The first time anything resembled home in months.

“Adrift in a stranger’s galaxy”, he rolled the traveler’s words around in his mouth, considering them “Fiction it may be, but true all the same. What happens next, in your book? What became of the traveler?”

“It was him, and another traveler. Alone for a while, then...The pages are stuck together from the rain, I’m afraid to pull them apart. I might damage the book worse than it has been damaged already.”

“Why not try?”

Note: Honesty is hard. Letting yourself be seen is hard, especially when you don’t feel like you know yourself. Honesty when you feel that you’re lying to everyone who heaps admiration on you is hard.

It’s frightening, but think about trusting others when they say that you’re a true friend or even a hero in their eyes.

#artoirel de fortemps #artoirel #emmanellain de fortemps #emmanellain #haurchefant de fortemps #house fortemps #edmont de fortemps #count edmont #heavensward #ffxiv #ffxiv fanfic #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv headcanon

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marlasomething · 3 years ago

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Piles Of Nonsense Bingo: Defying Morality

Hi there! This is my third individual contribution the @pilesofnonsense 2021 Halloween Bingo. My idea? To fill the marked column (bellow) adding an extra one in each entry.

"Boxes" filled: The Spiral and Leave a Comment.

For the Leave a Comment Tag I got playful. First, we ought to recommend another person’s work, so I am going to recommend this Jonah Magnus/Robert Smirke one-shot “A Love Letter In Stone” by Lua in AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ponbingo2021/works/34902205; https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lua/pseuds/Lua); it is a very interesting relationship/break-up study from Smirke’s point of view. But then I thought…leave a comment? So that’s the reason Sasha is “leaving comments” for Daisy and, finally, wanted to ask you for a particular comment to leave…What/About who else would you like to read in this AU of mine? What are your theories of what they are doing/what is going on?

Characters: Sasha James, Tim Stoker, tape recorders, Michael the Distortion, Gertrude Robinson, Original Characters, Original Statement Givers, Original Human Characters

Pairings: Sasha James/Tim Stoker, Background minor relationships, Georgie Barker/Melanie King

Additional tags: Original statement, Season 4 AU, Scottish Cabin Period, but it is Tim and Sasha, Lonely!Tim, Archivist!Sasha, Slaughter!Melanie, Hunt!Daisy, mental and physical healing, cops suck, PTSD everywhere, musical references bcs it is me, moral is pretty loose in here, I stand Michael ‘decision’ so hard though, special secret character(s) cameo, no beta we kayak like Tim

CW: murder, mentions of child abuse, Distortion typical content, revenge, mentions of past self-isolation and other unhealthy attitudes, mentions of police violence, swearing

Ranking: Teen and up (it is not really that harsh but maybe a bit thought for younger audiences)

Word count: 1962

Summary: We all know the story: the Archivist goes into the Lonely, saves their true love and both go to some well-deserved “holidays” on Daisy’s murder cabin. Only that, this time, it is Sasha and Tim. And instead of a Jonah Magnus centred statement, Sasha is going to find a text related to another old friend….

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35007676

As always, kudos/likes (as this is going both to AO3 and Tumblr), feedback or any random comments are so greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy it and forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes,

Allons-y!

Marla

Mornings in Scotland were rather chilling. Why could being a full Avatar of a primordial fear also eliminate the ability to be cold?

That was what occupied most of Sasha’s mind as she wrote down some notes for Daisy to find when she came back to her…how did Tim called it? Yes, murder cabin.

Because she would be back; she had to believe she wasn’t lost forever, no matter what the odds were.

After all, they had managed to bring back Melanie. Or, at least, a more Slaughter-y version of her, but still the same Miss King in the core –soon to be Misses King-Barker (Sasha couldn’t help but find those two adorable).

She sighed, as much as cold bothered her, it was great to be there. It was great to have Tim back, it felt AMAZING to end up with Lucas’ existence (she had decided that pretending human morals still applied was a foolish exercise that might get them killed and the world ended).

Well, more precisely, to have Tim for the first time. Yes, they might or might have not kissed before she went to stop The Stranger’s ritual (after the Circus experience, Sasha didn’t trust her memories regarding those days completely, and The Lonely’s influence over the man was far too huge still and those kind of affectionate actions in the past were still a blur in his head), but that was it.

Before she…she sighed, she just guess that, even if she didn’t first come out as work-obsessed, world-alienated as Jon had…she kind of could be. Especially when relationships were concerned.

But that was the past. Now, they had time for themselves.

Time they were using the best they could.

Good thing their only close-by neighbours were cows and the corpses’ of the Section 31 victims (Sasha had made the effort of knowing who was buried there, and they weren’t exclusively Daisy’s victims; but from the whole Section, some of the people just victims of police usual practice, no supernatural elements to them or the events proceeding their deaths).

As she smile at the thought of finally let go of some of her tensions in a biblical sense that included someone apart from herself, a completely out-of-place odour came into her nose.

Smoke.

Timothy Stoker what the actual fuck?!

She followed the smell to the backyard, where she found Tim with a small pile of papers and a smirk on his face. Small drops of black ash were settling on his now white hair. She crossed her arms.

“Tim, explain.”

“Oh, hi, Archivist! Just burning a little present from Jonah Majorgnus Asslias. See, I was going to bring one of your snacks to you from the boxes Basira send and decided to, you know, take a pic of the spooky of it all. So if I run into you while you are at it, I am ready and you don’t scare the living shit out of me and…” he flinched for a second, maybe for dramatic effect, maybe because of the ash entering his eyes “…I think I prevented Armageddon” he sighed, full of himself.

Sasha smiled, there was still sadness to the man, a darkness he was now trying to downplay for her but about which, sooner rather than later, they were going to have to speak about.

There were so many things they had to talk about that weren’t going to be nice.

But not right now.

Her stomach made a weird sound and it wasn´t of human food this time (since they had arrived, Sasha had started eating like a regular person for the first time in…perhaps, years; and her body was thankful for it).

“I think it is creepy your Eldritch metabolism has decided to complain as your regular one” Tim said, handing her some papers put together with a clip. “Here you go, my lady.”

She just half-smiled at him, muttered a ‘see you later’ that made him blush (it was quite funny since, with his new paleness, even the slightest blush was far more noticeable than before. Good thing he wasn’t going to go around trying to flirt with every living thing again, it would have been a hiccup on his confidence).

Once inside, she sat, found (completely unsurprised) a tape recorder and started reading.

Statement of Abigail Harris, regarding the deaths that took place in a storey building near Victoria Station, London.

Statement written down by subject for Gertrude Robinson, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

A few years ago made a new friend. It insists on being call an it, so I will comply, as weird as it sounds (pun intended). It calls itself Michael and it has a round face that is also very sharp most of the time.

It wears very bright, colourful outfits that never seem to stay the same from the moment it comes into my real home (not my parents’ house, hate that place, though I ought to live there until I am eighteen…) to the one it leaves.

It brings me food, and sometimes even winter clothing, when the cold starts being a bit too much.

I knew it since I was eleven. Now, I am fifteen and it is likely my one true friend; though the first time we met it tried of kill me. I don’t blame it; I would have done the same if the tables had been turned.

I didn’t know how much fun it was back then!

You see? I had a pretty particular hobby: murder. But only boring, rude people. Those are my rules: boring, rude people. And they are soooo many of them that regular people had nothing to worry about. Even if I expanded my criteria, it would be a very long time until you are included in which I consider valid pray.

The thing is, the moment Michael realised that the reason I was covered in blood in that building right next to Wicked the Musical wasn’t that I happened to be in some bizarre accident, but that I had killed a man that had hit his son for being too wide-eyed while staring at the emerald green lighted facade of the theatre, calling him a few slurs I’ve chosen not to include in here, it was impressed.

After all, I was a short, chubby kid with red curls and a skin that would be burned in winter if I didn’t put on some sun lotion. Not exactly the potential serial killer type.

It understood and then pointed out that, maybe, in exchange of not telling anyone, we could reach an agreement.

IT WAS ALL SO EXCITING! I mean, imagine; I could do whatever I wanted and this person was going to make things easier for me.

The deal was simple: I had to left the people I chose to kill almostdead and get them into the building, where it would make a random-colour door appear (it was biased, and most times they were either purple or yellow, but I am not going to complain to it about that; I am not stupid, it is still a murderer! I might kill it if it said something about my, so called by some former people, tacky fashion style) and I would through the person inside…for them to reappear as if they had just passed away weeks after.

The cops go CRAZY when they received a notification of a body in that building; especially since pretty much at least half of my victims are rich people.

Again, so fun.

Once, Michael even allowed me to enter its corridors, though it told me like a quintillion times not to try to play maze on them, for it might not be able to resist the temptation of trapping me if I did so.

I was ok with that; letting myself being guided through them to further torture our shared victim of the moment (a little priest that had taken all sacraments a bit too extremely) was more than enough for me.

However, this is not the reason I am here now. Well, partially, I guess it is; after all, I wanted to brag with someone about all this. It isn’t as if I could tell my dull fake high school friends about all this stuff as if it was a real thing.

There is this girl called Freddie that is CERTAIN this Michael I kept talking about is my boyfriend. She is so stupid! I had told her over and over again: I don’t feel that way about people; and I am pretty sure that, if Michael feels attracted to someone, it is likely to be guys.

I might kill her too; she is too nosy. Maybe I will ask Michael if burning people is allowed in its domain…

Domain…uh, I never thought of its corridors that way before…

Sorry, digressing.

The reason I was here…yeah. Michael sent me.

It wanted to talk to you but, you know, you two have a history (it wouldn’t tell me more and I know better than to annoy the person-creature with the fingers that cut like razors).

It said that it was kind of happy for you for finally adopting a new cat; and a tabby cub nonetheless! Adorable.

However, you don’t deserve adorable. Actually, you don’t deserve.

Literally, that is the way it put it.

But don’t take it too literally, sometimes Michael can have problems expressing what it truly intends to (I bet you know that).

Not to worry, though, it might be a monster, but it is not a monster of your kind; the kitten is going to be just fine. Better than fine. Apparently, The Mother (whoever that is) has plans for the little guy before leaving it with a couple of uni students.

Michael laughed as it told me how excited it was to see how one of them went throw a path not so different form its own…

Well, I think that is all.

I just hope you don’t try anything funny when you finish reading this. I even used my real name! That is a sign of trust, Miss!

Bye bye!

Statement ends.

Additional notes by Gertrude Robinson: yes, the kitten I adopted has gone missing. However, as irrational as it might seem, I am prone to believe Michael not harming him in any way. Neither The Distortion in its pettiness nor Michael Shelley in his general personality were capable of doing so as separate beings, therefore I highly doubt they would do anything as the Thing they have become.

That I made them become.

In which respects Miss Harriss…she might still be too human to justify action against her.

Yet.

“Well, thanks for the meal Michael. I guess” she didn’t know whether there was something left of the thing that had come from the merging of original Michael Shelley and the Distortion itself, or if Helen had completely replaced it; but a nice thought for the evil entity was free.

“Wow; that was intense.”

Tim was at the door. She didn’t bother to ask how much he had heard.

Actually, she didn’t want to know; she didn’t want to have to accept that he was seeing her being…well, being what she had become.

“So…am I crazy if I state here and now that Abigail the potential-past-victim of Gertrude’s fight was speaking about Jon and Georgie’s little guy?” Tim said, breaking the temporary condensed ice.

“Seems so, why would anyone of us actually be normal?” Tim laughed at her complaint, between amused and saddened.

“However, I had another story in mind” he gave her his best witty smirk.

She returned it.

“Oh, yes? How does it start?”

“Well, quoting the undoubtable great classic of our time Mamma Mia! ‘dot dot dot’…”

Extra notes:

[I am really proud of “Jonah Majorgnus Asslias”]

YEES THE ADMIRAL WAS A WEIRD CAT ALL ALONG! (He needed to have more of a regular rational being conscience if I wanted to maintain my multiverse ship with Kohshekh after the latests WTNV eps; sorry not sorry)

Are the names of the statement kind of based on Hannibal? I mean…won’t lie, yeah.

Really hoping you give “A Love Letter In Stone” a go and answer y question(s),

Marla out (bis)!

#the magnus archives #magnuspod #tma #tma fic #fanfiction #halloween bingo #ponbingo2021

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deathonyourtongue · 5 years ago

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Willow Run | Ch. 8

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 4K Warnings: Mentions of past sexual assault A/N: It’s late and it’s long and sadly, there’s not nearly as much fluff in it as I thought there would be, but that’s where the story went. CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6 | CHAPTER 7 |

_______________________________________________

Message me if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list!

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Sasha awoke excited for another note. Though she’d only received two, they’d become something of a calling card for Sy, his thing, so to speak. She loved that he took even a moment out of his day to ensure she felt comfortable and safe in his home, and though she never brought it up, she’d begun keeping them in one of the shoe boxes that came from their shopping spree. Always carefully folded, she allowed herself the small, childish hope of one day filling the box with Sy’s writing, if only so she could go back and reread them, remembering their story from the beginning.

Flopping her arm down on the pillow, she pouted as she found only cotton. Maybe it was just a formality. Truth be told, while she trusted his character and kindness, Sasha didn’t truly know Sy, especially where it pertained to how he acted as a lover. Maybe the gestures stopped once he knew he’d locked down a lady, or maybe this was just a one off.

Sasha pondered both sides as she got dressed and headed downstairs, surprised when she found Sy leaning against the counter, still in his lounge pants. Despite a serious case of bedhead, she couldn’t help but find him even more attractive in his freshly-woken state. Sy smiled when he saw her, gesturing for her to join him in the kitchen. It was only then that Sasha noticed the phone pressed to his ear. Sy blindly lifted his free arm up, a signal for Sasha to snuggle in close if ever there was one.

“Morning, darlin’,” Sy whispered against the crown of her head, giving Sasha a tender kiss that turned her knees to jello on the spot. Squeezing him tight, she pressed her own kiss to Sy’s chest, just over his heart.

“Yeah, uh, I’m not sure...Would you be able to tell that from lookin’ at ‘er? Okay, okay, good. Yeah, uh,” Sy checked his wristwatch briefly before his hand swept over Sasha’s head affectionately, “ten works. I took the day off, so we’ve got plenty ‘a time. Alright, thank you. See you soon.”

Closing the call, Sy set the phone down and wrapped Sasha up in a bear hug, a plethora of kisses scattered all over her face before he cupped her jaw in one hand.

“I called my mom this morning. Told her about you and asked her for advice on the lil’ one, especially when it came to a doctor--”

“I can’t go to one now! He’s got all my information, Sy! The second I go to a doctor and they pull up my name, the insurance company will send a letter, and he’ll know where I’m at!” Sasha interrupted in a panic, eyes wide, hoping Sy hadn’t just done what she thought he had.

“Darlin’, I know. That’s why I called my mom for advice. The answer was under my nose the whole time and I’ve just been so caught up in makin’ sure you were okay and that things are runnin’ smooth around here, that it totally escaped my mind. None of us Syversons were born in a hospital. I was born upstairs in my room, actually.” Sy spoke soothingly as he held Sasha’s shoulders, his blue eyes holding her gaze so she understood that they were on the same page.

“Our family’s been friends with the Taylors for years, and Nat’s taken up her mama’s post. I invited her over so y’all two can get acquainted. If you end up likin’ her, she’ll be your midwife and see things through with us to the end. Her husband is actually one of my best friends. We served together. If she manages to wrangle him away from his job, it’ll be more like an afternoon barbeque than anything else. Don’t panic, mama. I got you.”

Sasha took a deep, shaking breath, emotion threatening to get the best of her once more. Pressing her face into Sy’s chest, she was silent for a few breaths before looking up at him, her eyes glazed with tears.

“Why are you doing all this for me, Sy? You barely know me.” She whimpered, her breath hitching in her chest as Sy kissed her tears away, his smile sweet and understanding.

“Because someone helped me once, and I’m in the position to do the same. And because you’ve been doin’ a lot for me too, mama, without even realizin’ it.” At the confusion on Sasha’s face, Sy’s smile grew.

“I don’t...I don’t open up to people much, darlin’. I’ve told you more than I’ve told...anyone...in years. And I’ve been sleepin’ through the night, which never happens. I don’t know what kinda magic you brought with you, but I haven’t felt this at peace with life...ever.” He explained, a blush creeping up past his beard, Sy’s long lashes dusting his cheeks as he gazed down at the floor, utterly vulnerable.

Sasha’s guilt was forgotten as she reached up and stroked his face with the back of her hand, bringing Sy’s gaze back to her. No words needed to be said as they stood, an island unto themselves, each understanding the other’s heart in a way they’d never expected to.

“You’re special to me, Sasha. Very special. I hope you know that.” Sy whispered, each word spoken closer to her lips, until his were pressed to hers in the most tender show of affection she’d felt yet. Sasha’s arms slipped around the broad frame of his back as she drank in the gentility that rolled off Sy in waves, knowing she’d never find another man like him.

She could have stayed like that forever, wrapped up in his strong arms, floating away on the gentle breeze of his attentive kisses, but the clock on the stove caught the corner of her gaze and she knew they had precious little time to eat and get ready for Nat’s arrival. Still, she couldn’t help but cup his face and tug him down for one, much more playful kiss before they finally parted, each wearing a lopsided, twitterpated smile.

Natalie Taylor was probably the most beautiful woman Sasha had ever seen, and her husband Mark was no slouch either. The couple looked like they were straight off the cover of a magazine, with Mark wearing a smart gray-blue button up, black tie, and matching black slacks, while Nat wore a carmine off-the-shoulder top and high-waisted jeans with heels Sasha was immediately jealous of, even if she’d never worn heels in her life.

Sasha watched Sy greet them both warmly, her anxiety growing as she wondered just what the pair would think of her and Sy being so close, so fast. One look from Natalie however, and Sasha’s worry was thrown out the window.

“Sy, you told me she was pregnant, not that she was damn near ready to go!” Natalie laughed warmly as she stepped out of her heels and made a beeline for Sasha, her long braids trailing behind her like the train of a wedding veil.

“You must be Sasha. God, you’re gorgeous! I’m Natalie, but you can call me Nat,” Natalie smiled, extending her hand, which, like the rest of her, was perfectly manicured. Sasha shook it with a shy smile, wondering if Nat was always this put-together, or if she just dressed up for the initial meeting; she couldn’t imagine a midwife who attended a birth in heels and super luxe-looking fabrics. The cleanup alone would be a nightmare.

“Sy, there’s no way she just ended up at your gate. Where’d you meet her, really?” Nat shot a playful glare over to Syverson, making him laugh.

“At my gate, I swear on my mama.” Sy chuckled as he gave Mark a hug before holding a hand over his heart as though he were pledging allegiance to the flag.

“Sy’s always had a horseshoe up his ass with this type of stuff. Shame it never came in handy outside the wire,” Mark joked with a wink, moving to join his wife, carrying her stuffed-to-the-brim work bag with ease.

“Well, however you two met, I have to say, first and foremost, congratulations. Second, do you know how far along you are, honey?” Nat asked, getting straight to the point, her smile faltering a bit as she saw the marks strewn all over Sasha’s arms and legs. A look back at Sy made him close his eyes and huff out a breath.

“We met three days ago, Nat. None of that was my doing,” Sy explained, doing his best to stay patient, knowing full well everyone assumed the worst, even if they knew him.

“I was about to say…” Nat murmured, shaking her head, her eyes moving back to Sasha with even more kindness than before.

“Good riddance. No one needs a man like that in their lives. Boys, if you’ll excuse us a second, Sasha and I are gonna have a little chit chat about the baby, then we’ll be back.” Natalie said with confidence, taking her bag from Mark before giving him a kiss on the cheek, having to reach up on her tip-toes to do so.

Taking Sasha’s arm in hers, Natalie led her upstairs, keen to find out not only more about the baby, but about what had happened to Sasha and how she’d come into Sy’s life. Sasha moved as though on autopilot, looking back at Sy for reassurance and only feeling better about everything when she got a gentle nod of encouragement from him.

The boys had turned the TV on downstairs by the time Sasha and Nat had closed the door to Sasha’s room, only the faint sound of garbled voices coming through the wood.

“Well, first thing’s first. I’m glad you got out of wherever it was that you were before Sy, ‘cause any more of this,” she pointed to one of the fresher injuries to Sasha’s legs, “and who knows what would have happened. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, sweetie. You’re safe here. Sy’s good people. I’ve known him since I was little and that man’s always gone out of his way to be kind to others. Even more so after he enlisted. Heart of Gold, just like my Mark.” Nat’s words were earnest and sentimental as she unzipped her bag, pulling out everything she’d need to carry out an exam and then some.

Sasha didn’t recognize half of what the devices were, but she panicked a little at the sight of something that looked more like a penis than anything medical ought to. Nat, seeing where Sasha’s gaze had gone, smiled knowingly.

“It’s for an internal ultrasound. Helps me see the baby a little easier. It doesn’t hurt, I promise. Have you had an ultrasound yet?” The concern in her tone came with the last question, Natalie fighting every urge she had to hug the other woman, already feeling for her and the situation she’d escaped from.

Sasha shook her head, too overwhelmed to speak much. Logically she knew she’d have to be examined at some point, she just hadn’t counted on it being so intimate. “I only managed to get to the doctor twice before coming here. Once just to make sure I was carrying, and the second to get some general info on what was normal and what wasn’t.”

“Did they do a blood test?”

“Yeah, but just in-house. Just to confirm.”

“Okay. Well, we can cross that bridge another time, since I didn’t bring my cooler with me today. Don’t worry though, all my testing is done with patient numbers, not names, so if you ex is savvy to that sort of stuff, he won’t be able to tell you apart from any other woman in Texas,” Natalie explained, wishing Sy had told her more of the story over the phone, but understanding that Sasha’s story wasn’t his to tell. Turning to face Sasha after dousing her hands in alcohol, Natalie indicated to the bed with a kind smile.

“If you wanna go ahead and lay down for me, undies off, we’ll have a quick look, and go from there, okay?” Sasha nodded, feeling a touch more anxiety as she moved to lay on her bed, slipping her underwear off as she was told to.

“This won’t hurt, will it?” She couldn’t help but ask, her anxiety getting the better of her and making Sasha’s breathing more laboured than it needed to be.

“Shouldn’t hurt at all, sweetheart,” Nat confirmed, gloving up to do the visual inspection.

Once started, it didn’t take long for Natalie to find the tell-tale signs of abuse she was nearly certain even Sy didn’t know about.

“How long ago were you raped, honey?” She asked as kindly as she could, her face one of sympathy as she watched Sasha tense up immediately.

Though in the back of her mind, Sasha knew what it was, she’d spent years avoiding the word, not wanting to admit it to herself. Tears filled her eyes as she looked over at the nightstand, unwilling to meet Nat’s gaze.

“About f-five days ago,” Sasha mumbled, face red and hot with shame, one arm coming up to cover her eyes. If the house caved in on them at that moment, it would have felt better than remembering her last time with her ex.

“That’s why you ran. I understand. You’re beyond brave, Sasha. Most women, even under those circumstances, are too paralyzed by fear to leave. You took the most important step to save your baby��s life, and that’s something you should be very proud of.”

Though she wasn’t certain anything would come of it, Natalie discreetly took a swab, labeling it separately, and slipping it in her bag, hoping that if nothing else, it could be used later against the man who’d caused Sasha so much physical and psychological pain.

With her visual complete, Nat set up her portable ultrasound and attached the internal wand to it. Anxiety rose up in Sasha once more as she watched Natalie prepare, and before she could stop it, her voice came out in something of a whisper.

“Could...Nevermind.” Quickly correcting herself, Sasha shook her head, wiping furiously at her eyes and chastising herself for being such a baby about things.

"Nuh-uh, honey. None of that holding back nonsense with me. You want or need something you voice it out. Loud and proud, mama." Nat coached, stopping what she was doing and moving to slip a blanket over Sasha’s knees, having a good idea of what the other woman meant to ask.

“No, nevermind. It’s fine. Let’s just get this over with, please.” Angry at herself, Sasha took a deep breath and nodded to Nat, who still looked concerned, but nodded back.

Though the ultrasound was uncomfortable, it didn’t hurt, something which gave Sasha only the smallest bit of joy, as she knew it meant she was healing physically. Looking out the window, she mentally checked out through the rest of the exam, responding only when spoken to, and only with what she needed to say. It was all overwhelming, but having shed enough tears in the past three days, Sasha refused to allow herself more, her internal monologue having nothing good to say about her own behavior.

“Okay, sweetheart. We’re all done. Both you and your baby are in great shape, although I would ask that you start eating more. With Sy around, that shouldn’t be an issue. Man loves to cook,” Nat said with a sympathetic smile, feeling for Sasha even more than before.

Taking a seat by where her patient had sat up, Natalie took Sasha’s hand in hers. Smiling softly, she looked down to meet Sasha’s gaze.

“Do you wanna know what you’re havin’, or do you wanna wait ‘till the day?”

Still lost in her own thoughts, Sasha merely shrugged. “Just want it to be healthy. Nothin’ else matters.”

Natalie’s lips pressed together, the answer breaking her heart. She’d tended to many a battered woman due to her volunteer work at a women’s shelter, but it never got easier to see just how things that were supposed to bring joy on any other occasion, were nearly always reminders of what a woman had endured instead. Rubbing Sasha’s arm, Natalie stood.

“I’ll go get Sy. After all of that, I know you could use a snuggle.”

Sasha decided then and there that she liked Natalie, hoping Sy would keep his word and allow her to entrust the other woman with her and her baby’s care. Though she didn’t outwardly show it, she felt relieved that Nat had the intuition to know when to pull back and keep from being overbearing; it was a rare gift, in Sasha’s experience and one that would be useful during what she could only imagine would be a painful labor.

“That girl’s been through a lot.” Natalie sighed as she took a seat on the couch, handing the ultrasound photos to Syverson. “Sasha’s about 6 months in and she’s gonna be having a baby girl. She was too overwhelmed to even ask about pictures or care about what the sex of the baby is. There were signs of repeated sexual trauma, and she confirmed that she’d been raped two days before coming here. Whoever she was with before? Needs to get bit by a rabid dog and die as slowly as possible, because what he did to her is just…” Natalie couldn’t finish her sentence, too angered by what she’d seen on Sasha’s body to even think of a fitting word.

Without needing to be told, Sy tucked the pictures into the back pocket of his jeans, pointed at Mark then at the barbeque where the steaks were cooking, and jogged upstairs. Knocking softly, he opened the door after getting no reply.

“Hey, darlin’,” he whispered kindly, taking a seat at Sasha’s hip, one hand reaching out to rub the back that was facing him, Sy knowing she was upset just by how heavy the air was. Still getting no response, he slipped the pictures out of his pocket before getting into bed behind Sasha, one hand sliding under her head while the other went around her swollen tummy.

Sy stayed silent, not wanting to push. If Sasha wanted to talk, she would; he’d gladly spend the day with her wrapped up in his arms if it helped her more than talking did. Pressing kisses to her shoulder and the back of her head, it wasn’t long before he felt Sasha’s fingers thread through his over her belly.

“It’s funny how easily you can push something to the back of your mind, to ignore it completely because to believe it means accepting more pain.” Sasha whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. Sy squeezed her hand, urging her to continue

“Nat asked me point blank if I’d been raped, and up until she said it that way, I’d never once thought of what had happened to me, as that. He was basically my husband, I just...I always told myself that it was normal. That husbands just took whenever they wanted to get their rocks off, y’know? But in the back of my head I knew. Knew it wasn’t normal to...to bleed after, stuff like that. Back when I had friends, they always went on and on about how good it felt, and I just...It’s never felt good. Never.” Sniffling, she curled further into the pillow she held against her chest.

Feeling his rage rise to meet the bile that made a knot in his throat, Sy breathed deeply, reminding himself that it would do neither of them any good to be angry at a man who wasn’t there to answer for his crimes. Stroking a hand over her hair, he gently shifted them until Sasha sat with her back pressed to his chest. Holding her close, he tucked his face into the crook of her neck, choosing his words carefully before speaking.

“It shouldn’t ever hurt. Even if you’re just havin’ a one-night-stand. What he did to you wasn’t out of love, like a husband’s supposed to. He did it to control you, to make you fear ‘im, because he’s a weak sonofabitch. I can’t imagine the kind of pain you suffered under his hand, but I know one thing; it backfired on him, big time. Because the moment he put this lil’ one in ya, he made you the strongest woman on earth and no amount of fear or control could keep ya. You fought, you got out, and you got to somewhere safe. Never again will he have any power over you. Never.”

Sasha felt herself smiling as she realized that Sy was speaking the truth. She had gotten out, gotten away, gotten somewhere safe. All because of her baby. Sniffling, she wrapped his arms around her tighter, Sy gladly giving her another squeeze as he kissed her cheek fondly.

“Wanna see your lil’ one, mama?” Sy murmured against her cheek, his own smile growing as he slipped the pictures into view, resting them on her bump.

Sasha’s breath hitched in her throat as she took in the grainy, black and white image of her baby. Though there wasn’t a lot of detail, it was easy to see the baby was at ease, sucking on its thumb.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Sasha asked, remembering Natalie’s question, and immediately regretting her answer. She did want to know.

“That right there, darlin’, is your lil’ sweetpea,” Sy whispered, surprised when he found his own voice thick with emotion. Sy let out a wet chuckle when Sasha practically dove onto him, hugging him tightly.

“Congratulations, mama,” he murmured against her hair, Sy’s expression softening as he felt Sasha cup his face. Their gazes connected only for a moment before she brought him down, their lips connecting in a way that made both their hearts sing.

#henry cavill #syverson x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fic #fic #deathonyourtongueoriginals #willow run

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cinlat · 4 years ago

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50 Kisses Prompt: #3 or #4 for whichever pairing springs to mind First when you read them.

First off, DUDE! So glad to see you on my dash again, it’s been forever.

So, I’m going with the Sith Twins here because I don’t write them enough and they are two sides of the same coin, perfect for these lovely prompts you’ve sent me.

These are all loosely edited for time’s sake because I don’t want them to fall to the wayside like so many others.

50 Kisses Prompts Found here

50 Kisses Prompt: #3 A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond. (Lyesh/Quinn from Generations of War)

“Kiss me.” The command surprised them both.

Malavai looked up from his datapad, one brow arched. “My Lord?”

Lyesh sat behind her desk, unaware that she’d been watching Malavai while he dealt with their daughters. Despite being Force blind, the man waded into the chaos of their varying degrees of control every day while Lyesh attended her duties in the Alliance. He’d just navigated a particularly spectacular tantrum by their youngest while directing the older three to ready for bed. Afterward, Malavai had returned to Lyesh’s office without a word of discontent and settled into his customary chair.

Pushing the stacks of datapads aside, Lyesh rose and circled the desk until she stood between Malavai’s knees. “You know how much I hate repeating myself.” Life had been busy since joining this militia army. Acina was curious about the logistics, which Lyesh had discovered to be a mess upon arrival. There had been no time to spend with Malavai at the end of the day.

Malavai stood without hesitation, pushing Lyesh back until the back of her thighs scraped the rough desk surface. His lips brushed her neck, tracing up to the scar across her cheek, before moving to her ear. "What does my lord require?"

The husky words dragged a sigh from Lyesh. Her fingers wrinkling the back of his uniform jacket when he ground his hips against hers. With a flick of her wrist, the door shut, perhaps with more force than intended. Malavai offered a brief look over his shoulder, huffing a laugh when the lock clicked. “Is it soundproofed?”

“Should it be?” Lyesh asked, sliding her hand between their bodies.

Malavai jumped when Lyesh found her target, his fingers tangling in the links of her braid when he pulled his gaze back to hers. “Yes,” he whispered. “I believe it might.”

#4 An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

Lua/Felix. I love these two. It just made sense to me that post-kotfe Felix and Darth Imperius would have a lot in common in the Alliance.

“Couldn’t sleep again?” Lua smiled at the warmth in the voice and looked up to find Felix leaning against the door, arms crossed over a plain, grey shirt. He pushed away from the frame, taking her acknowledgment as permission to enter the room.

Lua had positioned herself in the mess hall, seeking that sense of life that permeated the space. The echoes of children’s laughter, boisterous soldiers, and the bragging of pilots made Lua feel alive. Here, she could pretend to be a part of the Alliance she watched from the outside.

“Nightmares,” Lua admitted when the silence had stretched too long. Visions of death and the ghosts of lives too numerous to contain.

“I hear that,” Felix answered, then snapped his fingers. “How about some ‘caf, no wait, you drink tea, right?”

Lua couldn’t help the smile that slipped into place. Despite all that he’d endured, the Republic soldier turned his attention outward, seeking to alleviate the stress of those around him. Over the months since his rescue, Lua had come to depend on that optimism more than she’d expected.

Pots and glasses clanked from the kitchen while Lua turned back to the reports of dwindling resources across the galaxy. She lost track of time until a mug appeared in front of her. Lua blinked. While the liquid within might be the right color, she’d have never considered putting it in such an unorthodox vessel.

Lua accepted the mug with a nod while Felix pressed one hand against the table from behind her and sipped his 'caf. Lifting the tea, Lua knew that the brew was off before the vile liquid touched her tongue, invoking a cough as she dribbled it back into the container.

Felix chuckled. “I probably should have warned you that I’ve never made tea before. That bad?”

“Bloody awful,” Lua answered with a laugh. She placed the offending drink on the far side of the table and returned to her reports.

Chuckling, Felix leaned closer. “So, what's on the best seller's list tonight?”

Lua could smell the ‘caf on Felix’s breath, a heady mixture of locally procured beans that the agricultural guild had been thrilled to discover. “Statistics,” she answered, turning to look into those dark eyes that always soothed her.

The motion brought her closer to Felix than anticipated, their noses bumping and the briefest whisper of brushed lips. An apology sat on the tip of Lua's tongue, muffled by the sensation of warm hands on her cheeks and the shattering of glass in the distance.

Felix’s kiss was gentle, delicately probing for permission to move further without being invasive. Lua tugged, not remembering how her fingers had found the fabric of his shirt until he straddled the bench by her side. In that moment, only they existed. There were no demons, no war, or shortages to worry about; only the illusion of safety as Felix’s arms encircled her waist.

#cinlat answers #kisses prompt #thanks for the ask!#i forgot how much i liked these ships #emperor's wrath #malavai quinn #darth imperius #felix iresso #cross-faction ship: inquisitor/felix iresso #nsfw-ish

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pxisonoak · 3 years ago

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i’m making these lil bracelets again like i used to when i was a teen and it reminded me of a story!

the girl who taught me how to make them was this hippie girl my brother brought home from bonnaroo. her name was katie and she had dreadlocks and she was glowing and beautiful and canadian and i was in LOVE. i knew her for exactly two days. my parents were taking me to go see glee live (shut up) for my 16th birthday, and it was me and a friend going to cleveland. katie was passing through traveling the country, so she came with us so she could get on a train there.

it was basically 6 hours of us crammed in the back of my mom’s van, me closeted but gay as blazes, just absolutely losing my mind because i was squished between my friend thursa and then katie right beside me 😳 when i tell you i thought about that for the next MONTH… anyways!! lmfao i was heavily crushing and we tested out her new headphones on my ipod, she told me stories about canada cause i’d never been. had me name one of her dreadlocks, wrote it down, and i wrapped a string around it so she remembered the name 🥺 it was “lua” btw because conor oberst has been My Life for well over a decade now. but yeah so she had a bunch of string and was like “you guys know how to make bracelets?” and showed us all the ones on her arm and in her bag.

cut to her teaching us for a solid hour, me in love, us trading bracelets before she got on the train, which i sadly lost when i moved. when i make these bracelets, i still tie them EXACTLY the way she taught me. katie was precious. i really liked this older girl that i knew for maybe 48 hours and then thought about her forever and absolutely wrote poems about her.

#i have her on fb still and she’s still so pretty and has a family now #looks really happy. good for ha !!!!#personal

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lockhcrts · 4 years ago

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GET TO KNOW THE MUN!

Name: mani ( but people can also call me eve if they want )

Star sign: aquarius, which is the same as gilderoy and i feel that says a lot.

Height: 5′4, which makes me a short dutch gal and an average canadian pal

What’s your middle name: don’t @ me but i have two antonia hubertina.

Put your spotify/apple music on shuffle. What are the first 6 songs that popped up?: oh this is going to be a mess.

piano - ariana grande ( good brain drugs, good vibes )

river - bishop briggs ( this song is a small gilderoy vibe tho so ? a mood )

here comes my baby - the mavericks ( a true bop )

désolé - sexion d'assaut ( i don’t really understand but a vibe )

please don’t go - joel adams ( another gilderoy vibe )

im schneckenhaus - joris ( the perfect callout for my bpd tbh. )

Ever had a poem/song written about you?: lua @saevrus wrote a song about gilderoy a couple weeks ago and i ... feel that that counts. i’m not the kind of person who inspires poems or songs, and that’s okay.

When was the last time you played air guitar?: probably 30 minutes ago, in the kitchen when i was making myself tea ? who doesn’t play air guitar constantly ? air drums anyone ?

Who is your celebrity crush?: i don’t think i have a celebrity ‘crush’ in the traditional sense. i really love kenneth branagh ( duh ) and simon pegg but i’d ... much rather talk to them ? have a coffee and just ask them about their opinions about life and the things they value ? there are a lot of celebrities who i find aesthetically attractive, but u know what, i don’t really thirst after them like that ?

What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?: cutlery scrapping over plates / bowls. that shit gets me every single time . i love the sound of blackbirds in the morning, a rowdy ocean, someone laughing ; and i mean honestly laughing , like the kind of laughing that makes you forget how to breathe.

Do you believe in ghosts?: which sane european doesn’t these days ?

How about Aliens?: are we really going to believe that we’re the only form of life in an infinite universe ? are we really going to be so vain as to claim that ? of course i believe in aliens.

Do you drive?: .... for legal reasons i shall say that i do not have my license and therefor i do not drive ...

If so have you crashed?: absolutely not.

What was the last book you read?: uhh i think it was the chamber of secrets book because ... i re-read that for obvious reasons. i am waiting for 7 books to come in today though !

Do you like the smell of gasoline?: yes, it is one of my favourite smells in the world. but then again i also love the smell of burning rubber so ...

What’s the worst Injury you’ve had?: no thanks, i’m gonna pass because all my injuries are either really depressing or i can’t talk about due to confidentiality agreements so xoxo.

Do you have any obsessions right now?: does gilderoy lock/hart count as my forever obsession ? i think i have been really into f1 racing lately. to the point where even my boyfriend who is a f1 fanatic has to admit that i am ... more of a stan than he is at this point. perhaps my obsession for years has been to be happy ?

Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?: i’d say both yes and no. i give people a lot of chances, but the moment they pass that final line it is done. only a few people have crossed that line though .... and those who have absolutely deserve it.

In a relationship?: yes, dating a non artistic white man who is a car guy .... i could have done better in that department ( no, all jokes aside he is lovely and i adore him )

TAGGED BY: stole it from @prophecyfated

TAGGING: absolutely no one, we condone meme piracy in this house and you shall nick this from the dash.

#ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵃⁿ ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ // ooc #long post //

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xxsovereignsarayaxx · 5 years ago

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A King Needs His Queen - The Originals (Chapter 4)

“True love is like playing chess the King may be the most important piece on the board however the Queen is the most powerful and dangerous as she performs more moves than any other. The Queen will always protect her King.” Word Count: Warnings:

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

We left Marcel at the bar and we walked hand in hand down the street. It was pitch black and the streets were only lit by the streetlights that were all lined up like soldiers. "I can't remember the last time we did this" I say to Nik.

"Well we have all the time in the world for me to make it up to you." He tells me. We carried on walking and we arrived at a small clearing. When Nik spins me around to face him, he brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Mrs Mikaelson? Will you dance with me?" Nik asks me with a smirk.

"Of course Mr Mikaelson" I chuckle.

We stepped apart a little and just looked at each other for a few moments I put my hand on his cheek and just looked at him in his eyes, they were so beautiful the dark blue-green colour complimented his pearly white skin, and dirty blonde hair. I ran my hand down his right arm and grasped his hand softly and we began to sway. "I love you so much" Nik mumbles in my ear, his hot breath tickled my ears.

"I love you too" I whisper. As we swayed Nik lets one of my hands go and twirls me around and brings me back towards him his head now resting on my shoulder.

"Lets go somewhere a little more private" Nik whispers his lips pressed against my ear. And with that he takes my hand once more and we run through the empty streets of New Orleans, towards the hotel room I once was staying in when Elijah freed me from my slumber. Once the door was closed sparks flew between me and Nik. He pushes me against the door and pressed his hips against my own and I felt the full effect I still had on him even after all these years of being married.

"After all of these years I still have the same effect on you" I say seductively, biting my bottom lip.

"I should blame you for the monster you make me Elizabeth" Nik growls at me, his arms caged me to the door and he smashes his lips into mine, I was completely at his mercy my mind fogged by pure pleasure as he moved from my lips to my neck. The room with filled with soft moans and the sound of fumbling getting clothing of each others bodies as quickly as we could. Nik returned to my mouth and used one of his free hands to softly grab a part of my hair to allow him to deepen the kiss. We break away and I push from his hold and push him to the bed and crawl into his lap straddling him, kissing him how he kissed me and continued down his neck, my hands went to the bottom of his shirt and lifted it up over his head and fling-ed it somewhere in the room. As I carried on kissing down his neck and torso he threw his head back in ecstasy, I smirked against his skin at his actions. Using his speed Nik flips up over.

"You are my Queen, let me show you how I should of treated you." Nik says in hushed tone. His fingers graze over my skin.

"A King worships his Queen, but I have no idea where I should start..." He says and then nips at my neck.

"Here?" he nips the lower part of my stomach.

"Or here?" As he stops near my covered entrance.

Nik lies on his back twisted in the sheets of the hotel bed, I lay on my front tracing the outline of his abs gently with my fingers. He runs his hands through my silky black hair. "Can I ask you something?" I say to him.

"You already did" Nik teased.

"Ever the jester, but why didn't you dagger me like you did your siblings?" I ask softly.

"Do you remember our wedding vows?" Nik replies. I nodded

1539 - England I stood in the entrance to the church seeing Nik at the end of the isle, I wasn't going to lie I was very nervous, scared I would mess up my vows to him. He looked absolutely handsome and I couldn't wait to become his wife and live out our eternity together. Nik was stood with Kol while I had no remaining family Elijah offered to walk me I clung onto him for dear life. When we finally joined the rest of my soon to be family Rebekah was at my side and gently squeezed my hand.

"Elizabeth Priston, wilt thou have this man to be thy husband, and wilt thou pledge thy faith to her, in all love and honor, in all duty and service, in all faith thou pledge thy safety and tenderness, no finger shall be laid upon you while I cease to walk this earth, to live with her and cherish her, according to the ordinance of God, in the holy bond of marriage?"

"I, Elizabeth Priston, take you Niklaus Mikaelson, to be my wedded husband, and I do promise and covenant, before God and these witnesses, to be your loving and faithful wife, in plenty and want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.

"I promised you that no finger would ever come across you, that also meant my own. I would never hurt you, hence why I got a witch to preform a desiccation spell. I couldn't bring myself to plunge one of those daggers into your heart. All I ever wanted to do was protect you love, I hope you can understand that" Nik says quietly.

"We were always stronger together, I could have helped you, I was never one to hold you back from your curse" I say to him.

"It was far too dangerous though love, the doppelgänger and her band of merry men tried on many occasions to kill me. If they knew about you then they would have used you against me, if they succeeded in hurting you in any way I don't know what I would have done. I can't lose you again love." Nik says to me, I lean over to him and plant a small kiss to his lips.

"Nik? What happened to Finn and Kol? I noticed there coffins are not present at the house, when we were looking Elijah." I ask.

"I'm sorry my love but there no longer with us." He tells me my brows furrow together.

"Who is responsible?" I ask in a small whisper.

"I can't tell you, your temper is just as fiery as mine if not worse, even though I'm fond to a fight. A war path at the moment is not wise." Nik tells me sternly.

"Yes dear... Whatever you say dear." I tease playfully.

While we were still lying in bed Nik had received a phone call from Marcel, apparently he wanted Nik to join him to deal with the two humans that were in transition. Marcel had asked Nik that I remain out of the way much to my my distaste. But I had other matters that needed seeing too. I had some business speaking with one of the witches of the Quarter I needed a little spell casting and I hoped that Nik could keep Marcel busy long enough.

Both me and Nik parted ways and said our brief goodbyes he made his way to join his friend I made my way to find the witches responsible for waking me from my slumber, that witch was Sophie Deveraux. I arrived at the bar she normally worked at and took a seat. It turned out to be a slow night for the bar and there were not many customers in, which would be perfect for discussing business. I turned my head and clocked the witch cleaning out glasses at the other end of the bar.

"Sophie, darling don't suppose I could have a quick word?" I ask her politely.

"Elizabeth... What do I owe the pleasure? Not here to kill me are you? As that would be a very, very dumb move..." She replies sarcastically.

"No, no-one dies tonight, its not on my schedule but I do have a favor to ask. In return I shall help keep Marcel and the other vampires busy." I tell her.

"You've peeked my interest, what can I do for you?" Sophie asks.

"Well, many many years ago I was made stronger by a witch, a witch who also used the same magic as you - ancestral. This allowed me to have the same strength, speed and healing as Elijah, Rebekah and Niklaus before he broke his hybrid curse. Unfortunately though nothing lasts forever and I can feel myself getting weaker, I'm becoming your average vampire... I need you or any other of the coven of witches here to preform the spell so I can have a slight revenge vacation. Away from here of course so your not in danger. I can give you the spell I just need your word." I tell her.

"I need to know a little more about this spell and what is does to you before I will commit to this. Need to know what I'm getting into" Sophie replies.

"Well what do you wish to know?" I ask playfully.

"What exactly does it do to you?"

"Well as I said before I match the same strength, speed and healing as an original vampire. The only way I can die is either a white oak stake or have my head or heart removed. The thing I lack is the ability to compel other vampires. But like any other spell a witch can cast it and they can un-cast it don't worry even this has its draw backs. But I trust you, you helped awaken me. I have no reason to doubt you of all people will stab me in the back, but let me make one thing perfectly clear, you think Niklaus has a bad temper? Mine is much worse. Now? Are you going to help me?" I tell her.

I made my threat very clear but ended in a nice sweet tone, allowing her to realize what kind of person I am. I am not someone to be messed with, I am what they say a force to be reckoned with.

After the conversation with Sophie she agreed to help me and cast the spell herself on the condition that I keep Niklaus in check. Which I could do. We stood in the cemetery where the magic would be at it's strongest and handed her the spell to which she read and handed back to me. She told me she would need to make a slight alteration to which I agreed for. Sophie lights the candles she needs and begins the spell.

"Eu chamo sobre a terra, os antepassados me dar o poder para o vampiro em frente de mim, para dar-lhe prolongada de energia, de acordo com os acima dela. Mas por um tempo limitado a próxima lua cheia vai ser a causa de grande dor e sofrimento para a sua família."

It had been nearly 350 years since I last heard the spell and yet I didn't care that I was asking a witch for help once more. I must protect myself and my family again.

The heels to my knee high boots clicked on the concrete as I walked up to the Salvatore House, after having a long discussion over the phone with Nik mainly him being displeased by my choice of actions to confront the doppelganger and her friends regarding the death of Kol and Finn. I had debated on bringing him with me but I had plans to play a few games with my new play toys. My sadistic and playful nature had returned to me and I relished in it.

At present I was stood on the outer side of the Salvatores front door contemplating whether to play the sweet and innocent girl or just walk in like I owned the place. I went with the latter and just walked in, lucky for me everyone who I wanted to see was present and all turned to look at me. I had my sunglasses on my face and seductively removed them and threw them on the floor.

"I'm looking for a doppelganger, her brother and the Salvatore siblings and it seems I'm in luck I have found you" I say in a flirty tone.

Taking some more steps towards the group who seemed to be on edge regarding my presence."Haven't you heard of knocking?" A black haired vampire snapped.

"Oh I do apologize, forgive me I'm a little out-dated, behind on the times but when I was born we never had the luxuries of doorbells or those fancy ass knockers you have on your door. It's quite marvelous really but I digress." I tease.

"Who are you?" The doppelganger asks.

"Now that is for me to know and you to find out, but I shall warn you now, Stefan is it? Whatever you have planned with that stake you have behind your back really wont work." I say looking towards Stefan as he retreats backwards.

"Lets cut to the chase and I will ask again, who are you? Why are you here?" The black haired vampire asks me sounding slightly pissed.

"Well then seems like all the pleasantries have gone out of the window, I guess I should inform you why I'm here. You all killed members of my family. I'm here for some revenge." I say sweetly.

"Oh honey! Your going to have to be a lot more specific then that. I've killed a lot of people in my time, you saying I've killed members of your family isn't going to quite cut it to get my memory going." Damon says sarcastically.

I stride over to the group and fall into the sofa, I sit on something... a mobile phone and fling that on the ground. "Well lets give you a piece to this puzzle then. Finn and Kol Mikealson names ring a bell? I bet they do" I sang. I smiled knowing that I was winning. I noticed the doppelganger took a large breath in. She was very nervous. Good.

"The psychotic hybrid never mentioned another sister..." Damon says. I swallowed and looked at him.

"Well your correct there. Keep going" I encouraged.

"Your married?" The doppelganger asks as she looked at my hand seeing my wedding ring.

"Go on?" I smile.

"Well logically I doubt it would be Finn or Kol." Stefan starts.

"Yeah Finn was a mummy's boy and I don't think your Kol's type which leaves us three original vampires, highly doubt your into Rebekah which leaves us with two." Damon continues.

"Elijah and Klaus." Stefan finishes.

"Oooo so which one is it?" I say playfully.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say Elijah someone needs to control this amount of crazy." Damon says with a smirk. I sit there and shake my head at the group. I point out that Jeremy is in the room and sped over to him and grab him by the throat. Behind me I hear Elena cry out.

"That psychotic hybrid happens to be my husband, and if either of you boys take another step I will crush his windpipe. Choose carefully." I snap. Elena takes a small step towards me and with a flash I snap Jeremy's neck and falls to the floor with a thud. I flashed my smile.

"I did warn you but I do happen to notice he wears the infamous Gilbert ring so he will live... for now, but I can tell straight off the bat who I will be able to have a proper conversation with so they wont mind me doing this." I add and which that I sped over to Elena and snapped her neck and proceeded to do the same with Damon, which just left me and Stefan stood face to face.

"I understand that you and my husband had a jolly old time in the twenties." I state.

"I wasn't aware that you existed, but there was no need to snap their necks." Stefan tells me.

"I need to have a decent conversation, the doppelganger or your brother simply were not good enough, now back to business. You four killed members of my family and I want revenge and your going to tell me whose heart I'm going to rip out, tick-tock Stefan who is it going to be? Your brother? The doppelganger? The little Gilbert? Yourself? What a noble sacrifice that would be." I reply to him and start strutting around the Salvatore house helping myself to some of the alcohol that was stored nearby.

"Your not going to make me choose..." Stefan starts but the sound of a glass being smashed and my body dropping to the floor interrupts him.

Stefan rushes over to Elizabeth's fallen body to check to see her. He pulls out his phone from his pocket and calls up Klaus. "Stefan Salvatore, what a pleasant surprise what can I do for you?" Nik asks.

"Your wife has collapsed." Stefan starts.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" Niklaus shouts down the phone.

"One moment she was threatening us, next she is unconscious on the floor. Her neck wasn't snapped we never touched her. She was the only one snapping necks around here." Stefan replies calmly.

With that Nik hangs up the phone. Stefan decides to pick Elizabeth's body from the floor and takes her upstairs into one of the guest bedrooms. He places her on the bed carefully. And proceeds to head back downstairs to which Damon starts to stir after recovering from a broken neck.

"Owww... Where is that loony Mikealson? I'm going to kill her" Damon grumbles rubbing his neck.

"That wouldn't be wise Damon, something happened to her. One minute we was talking next shes collapsed." Stefan replies to his brother.

"What do you mean collapsed? Shes a vampire Stef, we don't just collapse." Damon says to his brother.

"Well something has happened Klaus is on his way here." Stefan replies.

"What do you mean Klaus is coming here?" A female voice said in a gruff tone. It was Elena who had woken up and picked herself up from the floor.

"I had to call him, at the end of the day she is Klaus' wife, if she dies he will kill us no doubt about that" Stefan finishes.

"Where is she?" Elena asks.

"Upstairs" Stefan says back, pointing towards the upper floor. Elena takes off and walks upstairs to find the sleeping Mikelason wife. Who laid there peacefully. All is quite in the room when Damon joins her.

New Orleans After coming off the phone with Stefan I was so worried about Elizabeth, why would she have collapsed? She was fine before she left and seemed to be ok when I spoke with her on the phone. I hurried off to find my brother who I recently got un-daggered. "Elijah I need you to keep and eye on things around here.

"Brother what do you mean?" Elijah asks.

"I must go. That is all I will say on the matter." I replied. Elijah tries to reach out to me I shake him off.

"Niklaus what has happened?" Elijah continues to press me for answers.

"Something has happened to Elizabeth she is not well." I finally admit.

I was so lost already without her. The woman I love with all of my heart almost taken away from me and not by my own doing this time. I was truly hurt and I needed to answers and to see her. I longed for her touch. Her skin on my own. As we once were days before.

"Go to her, bring her home. I will try and get to the bottom of this." Elijah finally says to me after thinking in silence. With that I leave his side and get into my car. Hitting the roads hoping I would get there soon.

Mystic Falls It had been hours since Klaus' wife invaded our home, threatened us and then fell to the floor. I got in touch with a few friends of mine to see if we could put a name to the face but so far nothing. I returned to the parlor to see Damon drinking and standing in front of the fire that was roaring in the background.

"Any luck?" Damon asks me.

I shook my head. "No, did you find anything in her bag?" I ask him.

"A phone with a few contacts in mostly Mikelason's, Elena is going through her bag now." Damon replies.

"Hey, I think I've found something" Elena shouts over to where the dinning table is placed, me and Damon head over to her to see items from the bag are scattered on top of it. There we find a folded piece of paper.

"That has witchy- woo written all over it. I'm not going to get involved in this. No way." Damon says as he walks away.

"I'm going to call Bonnie see if she can help." Elena says as she dials for Bonnie.

"Hey can you come over to the boarding house? We need your help translating a spell." Elena asks. "Ok, see you soon" Elena says as she hangs up the phone.

"Bonnie will get here as soon as she can, but I have an idea though in the meantime what about diving into her head? See if you can find anything out?" She asks.

"It's worth a shot but its best if Damon does that, he is better at it then me." I say to her. Elena starts to place the contents back into the bag, and walks back into the parlor to sit down on the sofa, I follow her and sit on the arm.

"Can you go into her head? See if you can find out anything" I ask Damon.

"I can, but I don't want to" Damon replies back sharply. "Wait for Bon-Bon shes the witch, let her doing the poking around in other peoples brains, then if anything goes wrong Klaus can kill her instead, I would like to keep being the eternal stud thank you very much" He adds sarcastically.

After hearing what Damon had to say Bonnie walks into the house. "Whats going on? You sounded very cryptic over the phone" She asks.

"Long story short. Klaus has a wife, she got mad and came for revenge for us killing Kol and Finn, she passed out. We don't know why and we can't wake her. Found this though." Damon says arrogantly and hands Bonnie the folded up spell and leaves the room. Bonnie takes a seat next to Elena and opens the spell and glances over it.

"I can tell you it's no spell I've seen before, its not in Latin so we're going to have to try and translate it.

We spent a good half the night trying to translate the spell searched hundreds of languages. Nothing made sense to why this woman was in the state she was currently in. But all the piece was interrupted the moment the hybrid stepped through the door.

"Where is she? Where is Elizabeth?" Klaus growls as he storms over and grabs me by my throat.

"Klaus let him go! Elizabeth is upstairs" Elena pleads. With that Klaus removes his grip from my throat and speeds up the stairs to where Elizabeth is resting. I cautiously follow and when I entered the room before me stood a broken man.

A man without his armor as he knelt in front of her. Stroking the hair away from her face. A few tears fell from his face and dropped onto the floor. I would never think that Klaus Mikealson would ever show emotion like this. We only ever imagined him to be heartless and cruel. But Elizabeth she was someone who could bring Klaus to his knees and was a force to be reckoned with 'alive or not'.

#the originals #klaus mikaelson #Niklaus Mikealson #original character #klaus x original character #elijah mikealson #Rebekah Mikealson #fanfiction #fanfic #Stefan Salvatore #elena gilbert #damon salvatore #Damon the eternal stud

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zuraoftheblack · 5 years ago

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Zura - Profile Playlist

Character Profile - Music Edition ♪

The Dark Side

It Has Begun - Starset But nothing could ever stop us from stealing our own place in the sun We will face the odds against us and run into the fear we run from It has begun ♪

My Demons - Starset We are one and the same You take all of the pain away Save me, if I become My demons ♪

Beyond The Stars - Evans Blue Keep your silent song Reach for life beyond the stars Save your mercy For someone who needs it more ♪

On My Side - Demon Hunter So now, where is the enemy? I can feel no bite Where is the enemy, when death is on my side? ♪

Destroy the Obvious - Evans Blue I’m left no choice, we live in a black hole So let’s go destroy the obvious I’m left no voice, I live in your echo So let’s go destroy the obvious ♪

The Reckoning - Within Temptation, Jacoby Shaddix Red tears run down like a river Don’t close your eyes, it won’t disappear No fear, you wanna end the pain Don't let go, don't back down, hold the line We'll bring the reckoning ♪

Die Trying - Art of Dying If it takes forever I will die trying ♪

The Light Side

Lifetime - Decyfer Down Sitting here with you right now is everywhere I wanna be Looking in your eyes I see Everything I ever could want Everything I'll ever need Has always been here next to me ♪

Your Guardian Angel - The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus I will never let you fall I’ll stand up with you forever I’ll be there for you through it all Even if saving you send me to heaven ♪

Take on the World - You Me At Six Nobody knows you, the way that I know you Look in my eyes, I will never desert you And just say the word, we'll take on the world ♪

My Freedom - Two Steps From Hell I will stay, by you, through the night ♪

Until the End - Quietdrive To the end of the world, there and back Until the end of time, no one can stop me if they tried The darkest days, the darkest nights I won't stop until the day I die Until the end of the world, my love To the end of time ♪

Summertime - My Chemical Romance If you stay, I would even wait all night Or until my heart explodes How long ‘til we find our way In the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me Anytime you want ♪

The Gray Line

The Dalmasca Estersand (FFXII) - Distant Worlds IV

Dr Wily Stage 1 (From “Megaman 2″) - Ferdk

Shadowbringers - Masayoshi Soken ~ Shadowbringers OST

Life Will Change (Persona 5) - FamilyJules

Hopes and Dreams ~ SAVE the World - Ferdk - Undertale Symphonic Metal

Victory Fanfare (From “Octopath Traveler”) - Ferdk - Night Ode

Kingdom Hearts Birth By Sleep: Fate of the Unknown - Crouch End Festival Chorus, London Philharmonic Orchestra

Shigatsu - Otouto Mitai Na Sonzai Piano - Kyle Landry

My Sanctuary / Passion (From “Kingdom Hearts 2″) - FamilyJules

Impossible - Two Steps From Hell

Secret Melody - Two Steps From Hell

Any number of songs by Dream Theater

The Dark Side: Part 1 of Zura’s album. These songs share themes of Zura’s personal battle against the darkness along with his physical battle against his enemies over the course of Final Fantasy XIV’s story. Cries of battle, cries for help, and declarations of his own shadowy might solidify how he is often perceived by those who don’t know him personally, but as a Warrior of Darkness: devoid of fear, brimming with power, cold, unrelenting, and unforgiving.

The Light Side: Part 2 of Zura’s album features a much softer side, much of the lyrics revealing an undying devotion to his allies and his friends, though it’s clear that the main focus is his lifelong partner, very best friend, wife, and lover, Lua. These reveal a deeper part of Zura that he often doesn’t show to anyone save those he trusts and can relax around: his kind, cheery demeanor and his willingness to always help out and better those who he cares about the most. While these days he knows that preserving himself is better than unnecessary sacrifice, he is still willing and able to put himself between anything that would do his friends harm, especially if it were Lua; truly, his love and adoration for her cannot possibly be overstated.

The Gray Line: Bonus disc. This is a set of instrumentals that are various themes of Zura’s gathered from various sources. Some heavy battle themes, some light and contemplative themes for touching moments, and some simply grand and adventuresome. While none have any lyrics (unless you dive into Dream Theater’s discography, in which case, Twelve help you) they all reveal some part of Zura’s soul in some way or another.

[[ Tagged by: @high-stakes-gambler! ]]

#I had such a blast making this #ty for the tag!#Denny knows I love music

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fumusdamnatorum · 5 years ago

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GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER.

Can be used for RP and non-RP blogs to get to know a bit about the person behind the screen!

1. FIRST NAME: Sam

2. STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF: My achilles tendons are very short, so when I squat to sit, I can’t do so without lifting my heels off the ground (Barbell squats or squats for exercise is a different story).

3. TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON: Eyes, face, body proportion

4. A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF: There’s a Vietnamese sandwich called Banh Mi Cha Lua, which is like a baguette loaf (not a whole one but like quarter/third size) cut open/spread with pate (which is like pork liver) and sometimes butter, you put in like a pork roll slices, pickled/sliced carrots and onions, some jalapenos and cilantro. It’s more delicious than I can describe, and it’s also pretty cheap, which is why I love it.

5. A FOOD YOU HATE: Can’t really pick one of the top of my head...for now at least.

6. GUILTY PLEASURE: Ice cream, good fucking God. I can decimate tubs in one sitting.

7. WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN: Shorts (regular shorts or compression shorts), shirt and socks come on during the winter. Otherwise I wear just shorts.

8. SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS: Serious relationships. I don’t have the looks or confidence to pull off a fling.

9. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE: I would say there’s a lot to change...but the past is the past. Changing one thing is like erasing a lesson you’ve learned. I wouldn’t trade that, as painful as it is.

10. ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON: I’d like to think so. I won’t show it but I’d like to think so.

11. A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN: The Gentlemen is a recent one. Tbh any Guy Ritchie movie.

12. FAVORITE BOOK: Lone Survivor

13. YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE: Belgian Malinois

14. TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS [IF YOU ARE AN RP BLOG, YOU CAN USE YOUR OWN SHIPS AS WELL]: Arkos, Renora, Lucky Strike (@grcwingstrcng‘s Clover/@invernc‘s Winter), Kemuri/Onyx (@mistraliprincess/@quick-drxw), and Snowbird (Winter/Qrow)

15. PIE OR CAKE: Pie, by far. You can get pretty versatile with pies, and they’re arguably more robust than cakes.

16. FAVORITE SCENT: Eucalyptus, Lavender is a close second

17. CELEBRITY CRUSH: Myanna Buring...good God...

18. IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO: Everywhere. I want to touch down and explore every region in the world before I die.

19. INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT: Introvert

20. DO YOU SCARE EASILY: If I’m caught by surprise or loud ominous music, yeah. Usually no.

21. IPHONE OR ANDROID: Android

22. DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES: League of Legends, Rainbow Six: Siege, Modern Warfare, The Division 2, Escape from Tarkov. Those are the main ones nowadays.

23. DREAM JOB: A CIA analyst would sound like a pretty cool job

24. WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS: 500k goes into savings (250k actual savings/emergency fund, 250k into a 6 year CD), I’d allot 250k to myself (traveling, paying debts, buying stuff I want or need like a new car, etc.), 50k to family (10k each to my mom, dad, sister, aunt, and uncle). 50k to friends (10k split among 5 of my close irl friends). 50k to charity (10k split amongst 5 charities). The last 100k goes into retirement fund.

25. FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE: Hate is a strong word...but I’d think the closest one is Ardyn Izunia from FFXV

26. FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER: uhhhhhhhhhh idk....RWBY is the first one for me tbh

Tagged by: stolen from @kalopsic and others

Tagging: If you wanna do it go for it :P

#ooc #munday

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ask-elementalhermitcraft · 6 years ago

Text

Simple in the Moonlight

Summary - Rendog is a creature of the night. For the first time, Grian shares Ren’s lonely night with him. (Inspired by Ren’s cover of Lua, by Bright Eyes)

Word count - 1.7K

Ren, with rockets in hand, flew up and out of his base, making sure that it was nearing sunset. Finally, Ren thought to himself, daytime couldn’t seem to pass fast enough. He flew to the nearest shore, ready to just spend a calm night to himself on the beach.

For Ren, going out during the day took quite the toll on him. Being in such harsh, direct sunlight only gave him headaches and brought him dizziness. He could handle dozens of torches, or staring into pools of lava, but something about sunlight brought Ren to an unforgiving state of nausea. Mumbo, amidst the end of his mole duties, gifted his sunglasses to Ren. These did improve his day-to-day life significantly, but nothing as drastic as to rid the incessant headaches.

He landed on a patch of grass along the sand, and he took a moment to take off his shoes and his elytra, just to rid the extra weight. He rolled up his pants before stepping on the shore, knowing it was inevitable he would end up wading through the water. The waves were small as they hit the shoreline, providing him with the comforting sound of movement and motion, letting him know that he was not the only thing with life on the quiet night.

As he took a seat into the damp sand, letting his hands sink down beside him, the moon began to rise in his line of sight. It was a clear night, with nothing but hundreds of millions of stars twinkling in the sky, and a full moon coming into view. It was beautiful, the most perfect night Ren could’ve asked for.

A full moon always brought a new type of energy onto Ren, something that even after years and years of experience, he was still never quite clear on predicting its effect at any one time. There were always trends he picked up on - the ability to see miles past what he can during daytime, a heightened sense of smell, even faster reflexes than what the night brought him normally. It was hard to differentiate the effects of a full moon versus the effects of nighttime in general, but one thing was for certain - the night made him stronger.

His eyes worked like a night vision camera. It could work during the day, sure, but its abilities shown best once the sun was down. Hermits could splash themselves with night vision all they wanted, but nothing could compare to the all-seeing eyes of Ren at night.

His teeth were sharp like those of a wolf, an untamed and unhinged creature. He could tear zombies apart with nothing but his teeth latching on to exposed skin. He could eat rotten flesh and never feel the effects of poison. To him it was another meal.

He could run as fast as his legs could take him. He could run endlessly without stopping, at speeds unmatched by anyone or anything the hermits had seen. He could run for hours on foot, never stopping, with rotten flesh hanging from his mouth as a source of protein if needed.

Ren was a wild animal, with nothing comparing to the werewolf abilities the man had once the moon rose and the sun had disappeared. He was strong, and fierce, a force not to be messed with. He could snap at a moment’s notice, and Ren himself would never even know.

But Ren was not only a creature of unforseen powers in the night, but he was also a creature of grace, of nature, of the given world. He was a creature of light.

He has a glow to him, only to be seen when light is lacking. He could create spheres of light, orbs of photons, all from his bare hands. A gift as his could only be found within a god, within a divine being, but here he sat, throwing up balls of white light out of sheer boredom.

Ren was powerful, a man who could both control the darkness of the night and the creation of light, and bend and shape both to his own will, to work with him. His strength and his abilities brought positive light to his name, his kind soul earning him many friends by his side. He was loved by everyone, and seemed to bring nothing but fascination and joy to those around him. What was he to be upset about?

Ren was alone.

"When everything is lonely, I can be my own best friend."

As a creature of the night, Ren lost a lot of valuable time to spend with his friends. It physically pained him to go about life during the day. It was the most awful feeling in the world. He felt useless, he felt as if he contributed nothing to his friendships. While everyone worked on projects together, and spent time with one another, Ren was confined within his base, with nothing but the cave walls to keep him occupied. His sorting system had the most perfect redstone, every inch of his walls were immaculate, because what else was he to do? When trapped in a cave during every moment the sun is up, what else was he to do aside from sleeping?

At night, everyone was asleep after a busy day out and about. Ren, however, was wide awake. It would be him, pacing around the cold and darkened world, wondering what would be different if his friends were here, night after night. Occasionally he and False would share nighttime adventures; False being Ren’s neighbor could see when he was out and about.

He always found joy in creating builds at night, however. Knowing that the hermits would wake up to a new addition to the railway network, or a new build in the medieval district, or a sudden surplus of diamonds within their shop, always brought him joy. He felt like Santa Clause, each and every night, and that was the one spark of joy no one could take away from him.

"What was easy in the evening by the morning’s such a drag."

Everything came to Ren during the night, his inspiration and his ability to build, his creativity, his joy, it all happened by the sunset. He could run freely and build freely with perfect vision and without a pounding headache. But once the morning came around, he was reduced to nothing. He immediately went to hide. He does it in the name of his health, but at what cost?

Is he truly any healthier?

Ren stared into the ocean, his legs pulled up to his chest. He wanted to do something, he wanted to be productive, but he felt no motivation. Once the morning came, all his efforts and energy would be useless.

"It was so simple in the moonlight."

He felt himself drifting away with the sounds of the moving water and the swirling of his own thoughts. He caught himself in a half-asleep stage after he heard another person in the distance. "Is someone there?" he called out, secretly praying that his senses hadn’t led him astray. After hearing no response, he turned to his sense of smell to find the source of what he heard.

"...Grian you know I can smell you, right?"

"You sly dog, you!" Grian shouted at Ren, swooping out of the sky and landing swiftly beside him. "I sometimes forget that even my sneaky-sneakerson skills can’t outperform your K-9 senses," Grian huffed as he tucked his wings tightly behind him, as to not whack Ren with his feathers. "No one outsmarts the diggity-dog, you should know this by now!" Ren exclaimed. They were both giggling at Grian trying to act pouty, which was an act he could never quite pull off.

"What are you doing out here man? It’s super late at night, you should be catching up on your sleep," Ren turned to face Grian. "Well, I kinda slept during the day so I could hang out with you, it has been quite some time since we last saw each other."

Ren was quite frankly taken aback by his response. He felt tears form in his eyes, and he had no clue what to do. Ren never really expressed his emotions so openly, but everyone knew he was quite the soft guy.

Grian could see the tears in Ren’s eyes glisten in the moonlight, and immediately went to bring Ren in for a hug, extending his wings to wrap around him for added comfort. Caught up in Grian’s kind gesture, he could do nothing but cry. He hated crying in front of others, as something in his instincts told him it was a weakness, but he knew it was perfectly healthy, and he knew he could confide in Grian.

For a few minutes they embraced, Ren profusely trying to compose himself so they could carry on speaking with each other, but Ren struggled to pull it together. He had become so accepting of having the nights to himself, accepting of having his friendships exist but never acted upon, accepting of being physically alone. Aside from False, no one had taken such an effort to spend time with him. He and everyone around him had come to a silent agreement he existed on his own schedule, whether he wanted it to be that way or not, that was simply how it was.

Ren sniffed and looked up. "Thank you. Just thank you Grian. This means more than you could imagine." Grian smiled at him, radiating nothing but happiness. "You are very welcome buddy. I’m very thankful to spend this time with you."

"I know everyone always talks about the concept of the ‘lone wolf,’ but nothing about it applies to me. I don’t know what I would do without someone like you around." "I think you’d just go about, doing lone wolf things whether you wanted to or not. It’s kinda in your instincts." "Thanks, captain obvious," Ren replied, shoving Grian’s arm.

The two always found peace and laughter in each other’s company, and nothing changed, despite the time they had spent away from one another. While they hadn’t known each other forever, their souls seemed to go way back. Ren created spheres of light for the two to admire by the shore, and the wind took it upon itself to send them dancing throughout the air. Everything seemed simple, and the universe seemed at peace.

Maybe the night was not as solemn as Ren once thought.

#elemental!ren #ren #rendog #elemental!grian #grian #grianmc #elemental hermits #elemental hermitcraft au #ehcau #hermitcraft #mod emerald #writings

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