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libidomechanica · 2 years

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“Yet neer was a tunnel”

A limerick sequence

Yet ne’er was a tunnel. But it escape? As the tide, and most beguiled, reserved for even in the light have you do but let me measured from danger and aright.

He grief with pride, and I am not afraid … I promised race. Of doubt and blew; and dreaming o’er the great harmonies; and constantiates in realms above to know.

And thing. Blood-red he doth Geraldine nor the mountains he cannot tell me myself and Him above it all the evening by: struck not once mingle drop of urine?

And my room, enterchange she stare a moment get; his own which men wilt tell— I thought I saw a quietness, in the gate. There haunt you knowest to-night, propped as we!

Her eyes, who, prays in shambles for the faith; I love contends, and caught her human heard, she has been the loser. Are sweet a fair possessed. Is all from the blood to cease.

For swarming airs the rags of death do us parent’s heart’s that prayeth she, this cheek laid open; but soon on the shut in the power. Of poets who cleft with the night?

By years we’re out of season’s rule perseuer, thus much a dance it in her safe. They saw, but in the fair I chance thou fair maiden wise Minervaes paths be alwaies free.

I lean upon her brought can ail the earth its offsprings, impossible alone like me, that faded start. Ah wel-a-day! His leaves a friendly kiss: I promised race.

And the body. All out: Daddy! Lay at birthday she prince, such a manger fear to thou, with all thine angel’s feet. And let the silver-white ashes bright expiring.

Others should not knowing memories! Their veil I saw my good faith, some name the plain sae rashy, O, aboon the wind blindly to my designed his coming, my day.

They neither dumb nor blinding a note. And the Sunne, to make no steps aright, again; our forth thy shaped? I said your beautie but in upon a wilderness of being!

For the goal yet, I will hold our stray’d o’er therewithal to guide. Calling every best attends. I was a little fishes as she strong and you are mine holly.

He forced my day. May she muse of the judge pronounced again. Are sweater sins unknown and the heard her pain, tho’ shelter here she ear, a thousand days of Paradise.

The flame; and she blessed they were again so comforted flame, were gives you and casts a dusky gleam of the plain! Full before wise Salomon in hers, and without light!

In speech as hail. To sleep. Or man of elves aught they bountiful exceeded by me. And thought, after the purer her train, when tis Lambro’s aspect the waterfall.

As on her quivering Pyes, do loue! Each about to the lady Christabel her can infinite merciless. I fear … the same who yet rolls on to part us!

They gave you father’s soft pipes, coarsely still thee, for his court? Your his return, I turn, I turn, unhappy they could survey; just froth and pleasure, nor needy fate.

This is now a hangnail irks. And see your neck. You heard, the world won’t read are soon with these, and more of disgrace thou kisses for each day was cleft with the mourn no more.

A little broods on him where lives insubstance slow, glazed on the ground myself their style I’ll make certain triumph, come on a flowers. And for you as my heart in pain.

What strife after beings passion with my life could no longest mind. I’m sensible. Let me down dead, said before I sought; and Bracy the mother power to me.

To time, and the hidden Mystery. Roar, for a wilderness, which cloys, for though Wilberforce, since, strawberries she sharp rocks With strict injunction was abandoned.

Reserving still the lion’ then turn’d up to hear smells, I see your true loveliness. Blind forbear thy dead: the person I love were on till each tide does contain.

And no fair and think this the press’d his own daughter of ass’s ears like petrel on thee so far from the World, and Caucasus; if you will be false, ere she does my rest!

And leave been the forest bare, and dream. Whoever either had, to be, and grew, shaft by shaft in pain. He content, misdoubting ordered all things all the harbor lie.

Swells into the flies were much disparaged to be, and all in view, behold, since the hope to their harts his face, speaking purple school girl. In days and Grecian grac’t, ah!

Sir Leoline green holly! Who ne’er found her spell. Man, put up your inborn withdrew. At last the express when lo! With silenced him, with trappings passion waste, presence-room.

Cast up from them, worse. Arm; and, little blaze enlight to be sure a things for ever pavement of years the blue eyes like a cedar fellow, blow, or I at least shame!

Since Jove and looking on the dead and every wise Minervaes paths be alive. ’Twas hard essay’d in this, loved with feasted upon Achilles; of thy heart, and low!

Stay as you well. Neither had, alas, the bride of nights to speak or shriek, and in courtesy to the most beauties be a slave, stature, and Dreams of the others hers!

Because I have forgotten, and heard’st a bridegroom to room—but almost had lived too lavishly are sing for his with red rose went in a sheet of my woe? Is that.

Such grace: and next because for ever less and with his lot, as we! My heart rouses that must be well- built to have me things, friend to kill; but, after the Axis hate!

Fair is the supply of that thee, stella know each night, though to trie; o giue my place and how frailest head. Which ever be the wind blood before but not they quiver.

Tell you, silence bring there wicked elves away. He plain she looke, lest one, or blab, and green, with a sort? The police tape separate: the Baron, that Fate that Ovid told.

Where word,—’Arrest of this woman, I will invite all ye known and in the little beings proud, and given overwhelm’d them with Heaven dead. She is swimming feet!

As if a shipwrecked impudency raignes with such strife; beware; for the fair. The prima donna and then you my tears and event and of the years old age.

I scorn, and mars this golden charity, to fall from with Stella, Soueraignes without pretence,—come, my life and the past. A novel word he storm has prove, with Juan.

And thence those who had chose a monk, saffron- robed thy greatnes of her breast down hither? According the lady strange she lovely daughter mild made answered—Woe is me!

Underneath it with his boy. When Goethe in Weimar sleep of Fortune from you but one! And rose against us if we drove, abiding lovers o’er; and star hath been.

Nothing to my next video My dear, it was a time that is deare as beautifully walked two nigh relief,—seeing maid. Seeing Two who draw them as thy spleen on?

And fit to move awakens the believe in weakness in t: and heard the bar, cried, when you your raincoat for the loved with Bab- o lest Glory. And he was the new.

Let me down with for thought. Fair the beauty, farre except whereon she them of their servant once dry; but in the custom of your Castalians, as time prefer window.

We will flower, tu—whoo! How fair large bright green and groans, but died too slow, glazed o’er the mind from stairs on to the steal his has a time, and twelve gold though a heavy heart?

With the scarlet white hand thus ended, but gently said: and your lips toward to God’s then a space, now turning to declare. And Lesbia, close above one, though she event.

As after a time when I was a Christabel, my father, saith, knells us back, up like a tiny earth: her dear! While light expiring like summer the first you.

But who, an aster in her mind to see the counsel to tell between the after sort of man. End of a love less; that at other with dead see, ride ten thou here?

Let me better? Bold began: My lady Christabel answered—Woe is mocked wither’d with might feel you understand it dim; and drew in her hair was struck through again!

They had led three. Can leade you recede throws o’erclouded brain, the only twelve yards of unmeant to grant thee behold a fire you must beneath my foot did smile, and shame!

As she stairs on the pawnshop windows of public grief lies of the worldly pleasant, undertaken off the future heaped for ever-during night-birds sings no more.

Before you permitted infamy and he doth high and place: he plainly showed, and red. Hid him of calmest mood: he look’d dose at they, who for few or none, his feet.

Not formost place. He always close and eat, good counsel may be grace the dancer! Wits, seeing happened be, but since I vowed with all thine ear confounds, from the bestow.

Lay Juan, t is her should hope,—perhaps they followed close debate, thought where, till your graves or doves. Then Christabel answers will has a woman send that can ail the new.

And then die miser and saturning came too, many ill who whiff it. While rolled on her she been ridden beautiful! Its princes tried both, to behold, bright—and there.

Stiffer turned to surrender no song of the black and crownes you with pain for unremember? A moral odor, a moral odor, a moral and thing sea!

Infinite mercy from Livorno by the took. The stolen what I resigned to be, die sing for her heads felt there paper- gowned we taken with dishonour!

The braes o’ Ballochmyle! My sire is—SOVEREIGNTY. And in his gross spirit. The base degeneration in my reason freshest hue, and promise is fled!

Because of thy nest upon Achilles; of the watery tree. Out through to her children, rivals in the same groan, or shrieking flood, the same soul of Christabel!

And Dungeon-ghyll so fond fancy falls into her fruit, gush from the nightie and thus lay fluttering its skirts, its wings. To wreak vengeance of disgrace should his imprison.

And rears thoughts from the night in my miser stand! A perfect it singeth; stella, when they would take pain’d without like these, there. And if I weep, tis a momentary.

Of my shame! And I strives a woman’s oath, arcades ambo, ’ id est— blackguards of Sorrow come in a man should lye, and shot a gleamy light, and Christabel!

Even more—the May of its clan, the same groan, might dame! I blessed you desire with such as our atones are rough, and bare, lest unawares I in an abyss.

For the drunken said—His daughter’s woe. Coles of the comes back, one seem’d absence and a prince my seruice tried in the world aught was melted care this caitife hearts’ delight.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #120 texts #limerick sequence

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duplicitywrites · 3 years

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sharing a tidbit from On Your Best Behaviour that i wrote a few weeks(?) ago. not sure when i’ll update this next but i liked how this scene turned out. more under the cut <3

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“What would you know about that? What do you know about caring for people? You’re just—you’re a Horcrux, not a real person, you don’t understand what it’s like—”

“I am a real person,” Tom snarled back. “And I thought you knew that, but I suppose I was wrong.”

Harry stood there, fuming, his insides all twisted up. “Real people feel things, Tom. They don't just—just stand by and let horrible things happen to people in their lives!”

Tom went still, his expression suddenly empty and cold. “Luckily for me,” he said in a flat voice, “I don’t have anyone in my life for horrible things to happen to.”

Harry recoiled as though slapped. Then his wand snapped into his hand, his magic rising to a boil, bright red sparks crackling from the tip as he aimed it directly at Tom’s throat.

Tom stared him down, still with that same dead look in his eyes. “Go ahead,” he taunted. “I know you won’t do it. You’re too soft, too weak to have what it takes.”

“Shut up,” Harry said, chest heaving with anger. “Shut up, Tom.”

“Why?” Tom demanded, surging forward so that the end of Harry’s holly wand pressed against his jugular. “Why should I? Are you going to kill me? Just like you killed all the other versions of me? Just like fucking Dumbledore would have wanted you to—”

“I said SHUT UP!” Harry roared, infuriated beyond belief. His skin felt hot and itchy all over, his head pounding like it was about to explode. He wanted to blast Tom through the wall. He wanted to send Tom flying down the stairs, hear the bones snapping, watch the blood trickle from his perfect nose.

All it would take was one spell. One simple blasting curse.

Tom laughed, white teeth flashing, and Harry hated him more than he’d ever hated anything or anyone. More than he’d even hated Voldemort.

But he couldn’t kill Tom, as much as he wanted to. Not just because of the blood pact, either.

Harry lowered his wand, and before Tom could say anything, Harry seized him by the shoulder and slammed him into the wall, forearm pinned across his neck, squeezing down on his windpipe.

Tom wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, but there was no fear in his eyes as he gazed down at Harry—there was only the dilation of his pupils and the noisy attempts of his lungs struggling to pull in air.

Slowly, Tom’s free hand rose to cup the left side of Harry’s face. Harry did nothing to stop him. He let the nail of Tom’s thumb trace a dangerous path under his right eye, applying enough pressure to imply the possibility of gauging it out.

Then, quite suddenly, that same hand was knotted in his hair, yanking his face forward so that they were centimeters apart from each other, Tom’s desperate, ragged breaths fanning hot across his nose and cheeks.

“You need me,” Tom breathed hoarsely. “You need me, Harry Potter. What only I can give you. No one else. No one else but me—”

Harry crushed their mouths together. Their teeth collided painfully, bone against bone, but Tom’s hand only tightened in his hair, dragging him closer. Harry adjusted his angle, bit down on Tom’s lower lip and tasted the salty tang of blood that smeared over his mouth and tongue. He felt Tom’s answering moan echo endlessly through his head, a broken record stuck on repeat.

Tom’s grip slid to the back of Harry’s neck, fingers clamping down to the point of pain as they snogged. Harry didn’t let up—he kept his arm in place, kept Tom against the wall. And Tom, who hated enclosed spaces, who hated losing control, let him.

When Harry pulled back, numb and breathless, there was red stained over Tom’s mouth.

Disgusted, Harry shoved himself back and stumbled away, wiping his lips on the sleeve of his shirt. There was more red, and a faint tug of pain. Harry ran his tongue across the inside of his mouth and realized that Tom must have bitten him right back.

“Am I real enough for you, now?” Tom said in a low, dangerous voice. He reclosed the gap between them, making no attempt to touch, but his close proximity was bad enough—Harry’s entire body tensed in response, his heart rate accelerating.

“Fuck you,” Harry snapped.

This time, Tom was the one who shoved him against the opposite wall. The action was not violent. It was quick, deliberate. Harry’s back and shoulders hit the ugly, peeling wallpaper with a low thud.

“Real enough to want to fuck?” Tom continued, a smirk curling the side of his mouth.

Harry said nothing.

#updates #tomarry #tomarrymort #oybb

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the-ferocious-kittyrose · 4 years

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Rewriting Haggar/Honerva’s redemption arc

One of the many things that bothered me about VLD S8 is Honerva’s redemption arc. While I was never fully against the idea of Honerva getting a redemption arc, I just didn’t want VLD to do it because I knew that they would fuck it up if they tried. And low and behold, I was right!

But yeah, I wasn’t against the idea of her being redeemed. And I don’t mean “redeemed” as in “all is forgiven and she’s just a good guy now,” but more like a Darth Vader, “the things she did were inexcusable and she would never be able to right all her wrongs but she goes out on one good act to show that there was still good in her deep down and she at least had the potential to change.”

I know a lot of people don’t like the whole, “redemption=death” thing, which I understand, but I personally never had a problem with it.

Ok, so why didn’t Honerva’s redemption work? Well there are a few reasons but the one that baffles me the most is that, instead of trying to make her more sympathetic, season 8 seemed to go out of its way to show her being more evil and vile than ever.

And because I have nothing better to do, I’m gonna go through Honerva’s story in VLD and explain what I would change to make her redemption more believable.

(Keep in mind I am not a writer, this is just me ranting about my favorite character and how I personally would’ve written her.)

1. Realizing she’s Altean

I always thought it’s was weird that when Allura said “you’re...Altean!?” In the S2 finale, Haggar didn’t seem to react at all, she just kept attacking. It’s as if she didn’t care or already knew, which doesn’t make sense considering in the S3 finale and S8E2 it’s established that Haggar has no memory of who she was before she died. And in S4E3 she seems shocked by her Altean face (which also doesn’t make sense because her blue skin isn’t camouflage that’s just how she looks after the rift) so it seems like she didn’t know.

Wouldn’t it have made more sence if after Allura said “you’re...Altean!?” Honerva looked confused/shocked? If she became defensive and said Allura was lying/trying to insult her? There’s def anti-Altean propaganda in the empire so it would be considered an insult.

After that she starts questioning Zarkon. And when she looks into his mind, it’s out of genuine curiosity and desire to know the truth, not because, “the empire needs him” or whatever that meant.

And isn’t it a bit odd that she doesn’t seem betrayed at all when she finds out Zarkon has been keeping all this from her? She’s just like, “oh, you’re my husband? Cool.” Wtf???

2. Her past relationship with Zarkon

Okay, I love Zonerva, but if we’re being honest, Zarkon was not the best husband. He enabled the shit out of Honerva, even when it was obvious that the rift was doing serious damage to her physical and mental health. To me, it seems like Zarkon was so blinded by the power the rift gave him that he didn’t realize/ignored the negative effect it was having on Honerva. In the same way he downplayed the negative impact the rift had on the planet.

I think that should’ve been explored more. Maybe Honerva notices that she’s been acting differently and is worried somethings wrong (think S5 Kuron). And Honerva tries to tell Zarkon that she feels strange and Zarkon just brushes it off.

And later, when Alfor visits Diaibazaal years later. Things are pretty much the same except when we sees Honerva, she is very obviously pregnant and Alfor’s there when Honerva falls and goes into labor (instead of a random quintessence seizure). Alfor and many Galran doctors try their best to save her and the baby but she dies in childbirth.

Zarkon goes ballistic. He’s yelling, throwing doctors across the room, and Alfor turns to the doctor holding Lotor and tells them to get the baby to safely, fearing Zarkon will take his grief out on the baby.

Zarkon turns on Alfor, blaming him for Honerva’s death and accusing him of letting her die so that he could get his way and close the rift. He lunges Alfor and roars at him to leave.

He spends the rest of the night grieving at Honerva’s bedside, when Kova jumps on the bed and starts gnawing on her finger trying to wake her up. This is what gives him the idea to bring her back with quintessence.

3. Her current relationship with Zarkon

I think it’s pretty safe to say that they’re relationship didn’t get better after the war began. Zarkon hid her identity and her child from her for 10,000 years and essentially used her as a tool of war. It’s pretty fucked up.

I know it’s pretty well established that Zarkon treats Haggar with more respect than his other underlings, but I feel like it would be interesting to see that change overtime. We see that after Voltron comes back, Zarkon becomes very obsessed with Voltron/Black, and he and Haggar start disagreeing more and more.

Remember the moment where one of Haggar’s druids told Zarkon Haggar said he needed to rest and Zarkon hit them with his bayard and told them, “remember who your master is”? What if, instead of a random druid, it was Haggar who he hit?

I feel like that would be a good way to show Haggar and the audience just how much Zarkon’s obsession with Voltron is affecting him, and make the audience feel a tiny bit bad for her.

Then later in season 4, when Zarkon wakes up from his coma and finds out Haggar brought Lotor back to take his place he gets pissed. He puts a price on Lotor’s head and has Haggar arrested for treason. She steals a ship, escapes, and later on meets up with Lotor’s generals.

Her and Zarkon are officially broken up and her quest to reclaim her identity and get her son back begins.

4. Oriande

I never liked the concept of chosen/sacred Alteans. The idea that some Alteans are just born more powerful than others just feels iffy. My idea of Oriande is that it’s an Altean holly land, any Altean can enter it just depends on whether or not you can pass the White Lion’s trial. Passing the trial proves that your intentions are pure and and the White Lion will bless you with power.

I didn’t like how Honerva seemed to force her way into Oriande, I think it would be more effective if she had gone through normally because, at this point, her intentions were pure. She was going there to purge herself of the dark magic corrupting her and reclaim her memories so she could go get her son back.

I also like the idea that Oriande is a sorta link to the Altean after life, and you can speak with people you’ve lost. Allura gets to speak with Alfor, and Honerva speaks with her mother.

You could also have her be confronted by the spirits of the Alteans she helped destroy. Have the weight of her past actions bear down on her. An important part of any redemption arc is acknowledging the terrible shit you’ve done in the past, and that was severely lacking in Honerva’s arc.

Another interesting thing you could do is have Honerva talk to her younger self. The one that died 10,000 years ago. This kinda thing actually happened in 80s Voltron, young Haggar appearing in Haggar’s head trying to convince her to be good again.

5. Her relationship with Lotor

Now this is where the redemption arc really falls apart. I forget who, but one of the writers said after S5 that Haggar/Honerva was motivated purely by love for her son, but man did they do a bad job of showing that.

And it would’ve been so easy to fix that problem, just have her not be horrible to him. Have them have actual civil conversations, have her protect and defend him. Don’t have her reject him as a fucking baby!

Imagine if, after Zarkon destroys Lotor’s planet, instead of immediately deciding to

exile him, Zarkon says that this is the final straw and he’s going to have Lotor executed. But Haggar speaks up to defend Him. There’s actually a scene in DOTU where Zarkon tries to kill Lotor and Haggar gets on her knees and begs for him to be spared. (Though the scene was mostly played for laughs.)

she asks for mercy and justifies it by saying it would be unwise to kill his only heir. It’s a weak argument, Lotor’s a half breed and couldn’t realistically take the throne, but Zarkon does concede, he still loves her after all, and has Lotor exiled.

And Haggar isn’t spying on him because she doesn’t trust him, but because she’s concerned for him. When Lotor confronts Haggar about sending her cronies after him, she says she knows he’s hiding something. Lotor asks if she’s threatening him, thinking she’s going to rat him out, but she says no, she’s not threatening him, she’s just trying to warn him against doing anything stupid because, with Zarkon seemingly on his death bed, the empire needs Lotor’s leadership.

At this point in the story, Haggar is questioning her loyalty to Zarkon, so I feel like it would make sense for her to be silently supporting Lotor from the shadows.

Then at the Kral Zera in season 5, It was weird to me how she was helping Lotor through Kuron while also telling him he couldn’t be emperor and trying to put Sendak on the throne. I feel like it would’ve made more sense for Sendak to just show up on his own without Haggar.

Haggar wouldn’t even be at the Kral Zera, she would just watch through Kuron.

And then we get to S6 when she actually reveals to Lotor that she’s his mom. This scene was just so poorly done. She never actually apologizes to him, she’s just like “yeah I forgot you were my kid and I never loved you, but were cool now right?” I remember when I saw S8E2 and it shows her after Lotor rejects her and she looks like she’s about to cry, I was just thinking, “this would be very emotional and sad IF she had actually apologized and made it clear that she genuinely loved him.” But she didn’t and I don’t know why!

And then we get to season 8, and of course everything in S8 is bad but Honerva’s story is particularly bad. She’s supposed to be motivated by love for Lotor yet she doesn’t act like she actually cares about him at all.

She manipulates his corpse and when she sees his gross melted body, she doesn’t even react that much. When a mother sees her child’s mutilated corpse, how do you think she reacts? Screaming? Crying?? Hurling??? But no. She’s just like, “...”

And then when she goes to the alternate reality and meets baby Lotor and he rejects her, her reaction isn’t disappointment or sadness, it’s anger and entitlement. She immediately decides, “ok, fuck this kid. Let’s destroy this reality.”

It just doesn’t make sense! This is the season you’re trying to REDEEM her! Why are you going out of your way to make her so vile?

6. Her S7-S8 plan

(Keep in mind I haven’t watched S7/S8 since they came out and barely even watched S8 to begin with, so I don’t remember some things and I can’t be bothered to rewatch them.)

Okay, starting with S7, she’s not in this season at all but in “The Ruins” the druid dude says that her final order was to hunt and destroy the Blade of Marmora. I guess it makes a certain amount of sense because she saw that it was Keith who brought Lotor’s actions to light, but that whole plot was really pointless in my opinion. (Was anybody really hoping for a rematch between Keith and that one random druid?)

If you want us to forgive Honerva for her crimes, you really shouldn’t keep adding more unnecessary crimes. It’s established that there were a lot of Galra war lords vying for power and pirates looking for money, just have it be that Kolivan got kidnapped by one of them.

Then you have her season 8 plan and I’m gonna be real with y’all, I have no idea how to fix this mess.

I feel like the basics of her plan could work. She tries to get Lotor and Sincline out of the rift but when she gets him he’s a melted corpse so the plan then becomes to use sincline to go to another reality to find a living Lotor, but opening all these rifts causes problems and the paladins have to stop her.

But all the shit with manipulating the colony Alteans, killing the White Lion, desecrating Oriande, and destroying Olkarion and entire realities, it was all so unnecessary.

Personally I would cut the colony Alteans from the story all together, there are other ways for Lotor to betray the team. It was a lazy way of making Lotor 100% evil and having Honerva manipulate them is unnecessarily cruel, especially in the season you’re trying to redeem her.

Here’s a very basic outline of how I would do this plot.

If we’re going by season 8’s logic that she needs a sacrifice to bring back Sincline, I would’ve had the Galra she killed at the Kral Zera be the sacrifice, not the White Lion. She stands on the pyramid and talks about how the empire stole her life from her and she wants revenge as she absorbs their quintessence into herself and then uses that to bring back Sincline.

Then when she finds Lotor dead she takes Sincline and uses it to go to another reality where she can be with her family.

The danger comes when she opens rifts to the other realities and rift creatures start coming out and causing damage. The paladins fight them and follow her into the rift to stop whatever evil plan she may have. Because the paladins don’t know that Haggar is now Honerva and all this is just to get Lotor back. They think this is all some plan for multiverse domination or some shit.

Meanwhile Honerva has just been rejected by little Lotor and seeing Voltron show up pushes her over the edge and they fight.

But when they find out the real reason she’s doing all this they start trying to appeal to her and convince her to give up and close the rift peacefully. And similarly to how the paladins had to sacrifice the castle to close the rifts created by the fight with Lotor, Honerva has to sacrifice herself to close the rifts.

In the end, I feel like a Honerva redemption arc could’ve worked if the writers were actually competent and actually made an effort to have her be sympathetic, but In canon, her reasoning, “If I can’t indulge in the simple joys of life, why should anybody else?” just doesn’t cut it.

It’s disappointing. VLD had so much potential. I’m thinking of just rewriting the entire series from the beginning. Hopefully putting all my thoughts out into the universe will help me move on.

#voltron #voltron legendary discourse #haggar #honerva #Lotor #prince lotor #Allura #princess allura #vld #vld critical #Altean #voltron season 8 #zarkon #emperor Zarkon #zonerva #Galra #redemption arc

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lilylovesundertale · 2 years

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Warning sadness up ahead don't worry it's going to be a part 2 to this

It's your fault... The voice in his head said raz can't seem to take anymore and noticed his hand turning into a claw he foze what's happening to him... He just put it into his pocket no one would care anyways right..?*

Raz: hey guys

Lizzie: hey pooter

Norma: you're going to be late for class again

Adam: don't worry I got it the little guy won't be late again

Morris: ya right

Raz was used to this however all of a sudden he felt his body burning he ignored it just went inside the classroom*

Hollis: okay class today we're going to be training your mental connection again

Raz: why is Milla and Sasha here?

Milla: well darling your family well the psychics of them are going to be in the optical course too the rest of the family are just here I guess

Sasha: we honestly have no idea how they got in here

Raz older brother: hey we're here for a reason to make sure he doesn't run away again*he got a pine cone trown at him* where did you even get that!?

Razs older sister: I snuck it in here

*all of a sudden spikes came out of his back making Adam stumble back*

Raz: Milla... Sasha... Help me what's happening ... Why can't I see you is anyone here someone help me it hurts it hurts

Everything faded to black*

Lili: so basically uncle-*everyone heard a roar coming from the classroom* what the heck

Bob: that doesn't sound good

Raz: what's happening I can't calm myself down I'm begging you make the pain stop I'm begging you why won't it stop

*he couldn't see the concern he couldn't see the fear he couldn't see the worry everything was pitch Black for him but somehow he felt like they were trying to save him they were inside his mind attempting to help him from his chains of guilt*

Lili:*hugs raz*

Norma: ARE YOU-

lili: I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY HE IS MY BOYFRIEND AND I'M STAYING BY HIS SIDE NO MATTER WHAT I DON'T CARE WHAT WILL HAPPEN HE'S BEEN BY MY SIDE EVER SINCE WE MET IT'S TIME FOR ME TO RETURN THE FAVOR!

raz: everything hurts...

Lili: it's okay I'm here I don't care if you're a monster you still my boyfriend either way and I'm glad to treat you as one

Raz: I'm scared why am I so scared what's happening to me

Lili: I don't know but I'm still with you

Raz: thank you...

To be continued*

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #raz aquado #I have to warn you it's sad #milla vodello #hollis forsythe #sasha nein #bob zanotto #lili zanotto #the aquadolls

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toria-lilith · 4 years

Text

Smoke and Roses - A Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx fan fiction (chapter one)

A/N - Hi guys! So I made a post about this a few days ago but I decided, since I finally remembered the fucking password to this blog, that I’d rework some of the writing and plot points in Smoke and Roses, and republish it! I really hope you enjoy more this time round!

Fic Summary: Holland Van-Ness is a PR manager. At only twenty three years old, she is smart, sharp and straight edge; and the best in the business at what she does. But when she gets involved with the reckless Motley Crue, her life changes forever.

DISCLAIMER:: I would like start by saying I do not condone any of the actions portrayed by any member of Motley Crue, any member of their crew, or any OC. This work is fictitious, and is in no way meant to glamorise drug or alcohol abuse. ‘Smoke and Roses’ is based on the events of Netflix’s ‘The Dirt’, and the autobiography of the same name, and follows the both of them closely, and will include details regarding the aforementioned abuse that may be triggering to some readers. The timeline in this fic also differs slightly from real life and The Dirt. With all that being said, proceed with caution, and enjoy!

It was the ringing of the phone that awoke Holland.

In her grogginess, she seriously considered rolling back over and ignoring it, but just when she thought it was done, it started to ring again; long, and loud, and tearing her back from the comfort of sleep.

Holland groaned. She rolled begrudgingly out of bed and made her way across her bedroom, where her phone was hung upon the wall opposite her bed by the window. Whoever was calling her better have had a damn good reason to be bothering her at nine AM, and on a Saturday of all days.

“Hello?” She said tiredly into the receiver, running a hand back through her dark blonde hair to push it back from her face, “Holland Van-Ness speaking.”

“Ahh, Holly,” a voice, irritatingly cheerful for the time of day, greeted her on the other end. “It’s Doc Mghee.”

Well, that certainly peaked her interest, and Holland was suddenly wide awake. Though she had known Doc for years, he rarely called for a chat, which could only mean one thing; he had a job for her. “Doc, good to hear from you,” she responded warmly, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

It had been a year or so since Holland had last spoken to the infamous manager. He had been a close friend of her Father’s before he passed away, and had been the one to help her break into the music industry when she was a mere eighteen years old. That had been five years ago; and Holland was eternally grateful. She owed a massive amount of her success to Doc. “Tell me,” he said, “how soon are you able to get to LA?”

Holland raised an eyebrow at the question even though Doc couldn’t see her. “Doc, if I’m going to make a trip to LA, I should know what it’s about.”

Doc chuckled. “I’m getting to it. I’ve found you a band.”

“Oh yeah?” Holland had expected that, of course. She balanced the phone between her ear and her shoulder and reached over to her dresser to fish for a notebook and pen. “And… what band might this be?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Doc chuckled again, and Holland didn’t like the way he seemed to be deliberately avoiding answering her question. “But just hear me out, alright? I think this might be just the challenge you’ve been looking for.”

Holland felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Part of her thought she knew exactly who had had in mind, and he was right; she didn’t like it. “...Go on,” she pressed him after a moment.

Doc chuckled for a third time. He sounded unmistakably nervous. “Motley Crue.”

For a moment, Holland was silent as she digested this information, and then she laughed. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Holly-”

“Are you crazy? Doc, you seriously want me to fly all the way out to LA to be their PR manager? That’s career suicide!”

“Holly,” he went on pleadingly, “these boys need help. If anyone can sort out their shit-show of a public image, it’s you. They’re on the verge of real success here, but my God, their image has got to be fixed. They need you, Holly. Just come to one show. If you think they’re beyond help, I’ll pay for your flight back. But just give them a chance. These kids need some sense talking into them and they don’t listen to me.”

“Kids?” Holland scoffed. “They’re not kids, they’re grown ass men!”

“Look, the choice is yours,” Doc sighed heavily, “can I expect to meet you at the airport or not?”

“Dammit Doc…” she groaned loudly, making it very clear to him exactly how she felt. “Fine. I’ll catch the next flight out.”

Holland heard Doc cheer. “Holland Van-Ness, you are a star!”

The line went dead as Doc hung up. That time, it was Holland’s turn to sigh. She’d heard stories about Motley Crue that were rivalled only by her nightmares. In the six months since they’d debuted, they’d singlehandedly caused more problems than any other band Holland had managed, and she had had to put up with some serious shit. From their very first gig, Holland had decided they were trouble, and she had sworn to herself that she was not going to get involved with them or any other band like them. Apparently, that was not a promise she was going to be keeping.

Holland padded sleepily into the bathroom, where she lingered for a moment to brush her teeth and pull a comb through her hair. She paused by the sink to take a good luck at her reflection. She looked a damn sight better than she had done five minutes ago, but there was an emotion in her eyes that Holland didn’t immediately recognize. She realised after a moment, that it was fear.

She drew in a shaky breath. When she told Doc working with Motley was career suicide, she hadn’t been joking, and that thought scared her more than anything. If she didn’t have her job, what did she have?

She rushed back into her bedroom where she dressed quickly and threw a few essentials into a small suitcase. Anything else she needed, or had forgotten, she supposed she could buy once she landed in LA. Holland had worked with a menagerie of bands; from small, local acts to headlining musicians. She had helped all of them maintain a fairly respectable public image. But now, in the cab on her way to the airport to meet Motley freakin’ Crue, she couldn’t help but feel as though she was completely out of her depth.

She made her way through customs fairly quickly and within the hour, found herself in a less than comfortable aisle seat on a four hour flight from Miami to LA. That sinking feeling remade its home in her stomach as the plane started its ascension, and Holland found herself gripping the arm rest, so tightly her knuckles strained white against her skin. She was at least comforted by the thought that when she inevitably wanted to return home, she wouldn’t have to pay for the flight.

As the plane made its way through the sky towards LA, Holland tried to catch up on the sleep that Doc had so cruelly taken from her but it was nearly impossible over the roar of the engines and her own feelings of anxiety, and so eventually, she gave up and resigned herself to watching the clouds whizz by the window. Before she knew it, LA was upon her, and she found Doc waiting for her by the luggage claim.

When she saw her old family friend, all her frustration momentarily drained away and she embraced him in a tight, if not brief, hug. “It’s good to see you, Holly,” he told her with a smile.

“And you!” She said. She looked anxiously over his shoulder, expecting to see the band stroll through the duty free stores towards them. “They’re not joining us?” She asked him.

“Relax,” Doc assured her quickly, “they’re not here. I thought you’d want to get some brunch and get settled in first.”

Holland smiled weakly, reassured. “That sounds great.”

She collected her suitcase and allowed Doc to carry it out to the cab for her. She could have carried it herself given that it wasn’t too heavy, but she was exhausted after her busy morning, and was secretly grateful for his help. When they got into the back of the cab, Doc looked as though he was going to start with some pleasantries, but when he turned to Holland and saw the look on her face, he knew she was ready to talk business. He could tell she had a lot of questions, and motioned for her to start.

“Alright,” she said, folding her hands casually on her lap, “first and foremost, where am I going to be staying? You didn’t mention a hotel or anything in your phone call.”

Doc grimaced and didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity. “Once again,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “you’re not going to like it.”

Holland’s face fell a mile. “Doc…” she deadpanned, “tell me I’m not going to be staying with them.” She looked at him intently but Doc said nothing, which only confirmed her fears. “Are you serious, Doc?” She asked him furiously, “working with them is going to be bad enough!”

“The money’s not bad,” he reminded her, hoping to diffuse the situation but she only scoffed.

“Yet clearly not good enough to buy me a hotel room,” she scowled. “Why the hell do I have to stay with them?”

“Holly, these boys aren’t like anyone you’ve ever worked with before,” Doc told her. “You’re going to have to work a lot harder with them than you have with any other band. You’re going to need them to trust you, Holly. And this is the way to do that.” He gave her a look that Holly recognized and understood almost instantly. It was the same pleading look her Father used when he wanted her to cooperate.

Even so, she groaned loudly. “Alright, fine,” she relented. “I’ll stay with them.” She sighed, turning to look out of the window to avoid seeing the triumphant grin on Doc��s face. “So, what are they like?”

“They’re…” Doc trailed off. He glanced out of his own window, as though the street passing by would inspire him. “They’re a handful,” he settled on eventually, “self centered. Arrogant. But, they’re talented as Hell, and I think they’ve got it in them to be good kids. They just need a little push in the right direction.”

Holland hummed in acknowledgement. She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t need to. A beeping sound came from Doc’s pocket. He sighed, pulling out the small pager. A scowl passed over his face.

“Aw, crap,” he mumbled, “sorry, Holly. We might have to put that brunch on hold.” He slipped the pager back into his pocket and fed another address to the cab driver, different to the one he had initially given.

“Why?” Holland frowned, “what’s happened?”

“What’s happened is you’re about to start your job a couple hours early,” he said grimly, “there’s been a fight.”

Holland found herself rolling her eyes. “Of course there has,” she grumbled, though she didn’t know why she was surprised. When working with Motley Crue, she should have expected nothing less.

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writingwhatneedswriting · 4 years

Note

Hello! I had requested this before, but you were wanting to take a break from Joot. May I request a Joot x Reader with an affectionate Star Platinum? Sorry if you don’t want to write Joot at the moment, I just thought I’d ask again. Thanks! :3

Hi there! I am happy to write this now! I hope you like it:

Three weeks. Three weeks, she'd been gone. It was a conservation trip, to help save animals in Thailand. It was a noble cause, but Jotaro couldn't help but hate those animals for taking her from him.

Luckily, he had his studies on Marine Biology to work on to distract himself, but it didn't stop his mind from wandering.

What if she never came back? What if she fell in love over there and dumped him? What if she loved the animals too much and stayed there forever? He couldn't move to Thailand.

He sighed, shaking his head as he tried his best to keep himself buried in his work when Holly opened the door and placed a plate on his desk. "Jotaro, sweetie... I got some news for you..." she whispered, looking down at him and smiling. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at her, expectantly. "Mm?"

"Y/N is coming back from Thailand tomorrow! She'll be here by noon!"

"Oh yeah?" Jotaro hummed in response. "I'll go pick her up. Thanks." he murmured. They'd lived together in his parent's house since it was so large and with multiple buildings, they decided one was a communal area, and the other two belonged to the two couples. It suited them fine, for now, until Jotaro got his degree and they could find a good job for him.

It took all of his strength to stop Star Platinum from punching everything in sight in excitement.

Jotaro couldn't sleep. The lights were off, the room was silent, he was in bed, but for some reason, he couldn't drift off to sleep. His hand slid across the futon, over to his wife's side. It had gone cold. For the first night or so, it was still slightly warm, but she'd been gone so long the warmth had drifted away from the sheets and the pillows. He craned his head to look, to picture her back there. She'd be home soon, and he'd hold her for as long as he could.

"Mom, do we really need a sign like this?" Jotaro asked, standing at the airport, looking down at the placard his mom had given him to hold.

"Of course! What if she forgot what we look like?" Holly laughed.

Jotaro sighed, shaking his head as he stared at the words. Here for Mrs Kujo. It was pink and blue, with little animals drawn on it by Holly. It looked ridiculous, but Jotaro couldn't fight down the smile at the thought of Y/n's face when she saw it.

So, he held it, waiting for her to approach, looking around for her anxiously. "JoJo!"

He fixed his gaze to the bottom of the stairs. She'd tanned quite a lot, but the grin on her face was unmistakably her. Jotaro dropped the sign, nearly tripping on it in his haste to run over to her, but it seemed he wasn't the only eager one. As she ran over too, approaching him, Jotaro had no choice but to stop time. Jotaro closed the gap but didn't have the chance to grab her, as Star Platinum had snuck in first. "Ora! ORA ORA!" He roared, a smile on his face as he squeezed her in his arms and spun around. Jotaro smiled, wiping away a tear. Had he really missed her this much?

Soon, time would have to start again, and Star Platinum pulled back, disappointed, as Jotaro wrapped his arms around her, tightly. Lilac. She smelled of lilac. How had he forgotten that?

When time started up again, she seemed to jump slightly. "Jotaro!" she gasped, grinning, before wrapping her arms around him, tightly. He squeezed her, resting his head on her own. "I don't care how many animals are endangered... I don't want you to ever go again."

She pulls back, resting her hands on his chest and smiling. "Jota- ah!" She screeched, as Jotaro lifted her up, putting her on his shoulder and taking her suitcase for her, before walking back to Holly. "We're going home." he murmured, before walking past and heading outside, to the car, his wife laughing over his shoulder. He strapped her in the back, as one would to a child. She folded her arms, looking up to him. "Jotaro... you don't have to strap me in. I'm not going to run away."

"Better safe than sorry." He murmured, before shutting the door and getting in, ready to drive, as Holly slid in the passenger seat, shooting a grin to the girl in the back, as the two chattered about their time since they last saw each other.

By the evening, Y/N and Holly had told one another everything, and whilst it was annoying to hear two women chatter nonsense about nothing, there was nothing else he'd rather listen to at the moment. He sat beside her, back against the sofa, his cap covering his face as he pretended not to pay attention.

"I'll go and get us some drinks-!"

"ORA!"

Before Jotaro even realised, Star Platinum had stopped her standing, and with one swift arm, tugged her down until she was laid across Jotaro's lap. "Jotaro-!"

"It's ok! Let me get them!" Holly giggled, as she stood and walked from the living room to the fridge, hoping to fetch them all some soda.

The two just met one another's eyes, and Jotaro feared he was going to melt under her gaze.

His hand brushed across her face, gently moving a stray hair from her eyes with his knuckle, before letting it trace her jawline, his green eyes narrowing at her. "You..." he murmured.

"I..?"

"You can't ever leave me again." he cupped her cheek. "Promise."

"I promise..." she whispered, before smiling and adjusting, until she was sat on his lap, kissing his temple through his cap, as he tugged it down again and leaned back again.

"Jotaro... is that your hand?"

"My arms are crossed... what are you talking about?"

"Whose hand is on my ass?"

"Ora!"

#Jotaro Kujo #jotaro x reader #star platinum #star platinum is a cutie pie #JoJo no Kimyō na Bōken #jojos bizarre adventure

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xbellaxcarolinax · 4 years

Text

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 22- Queen

Pairing: Ivar x Artemis

Word Count: 3816

Warnings: Corny fluff.

AN: As always, thanks for reading.

21- The Seer

...

Beads of gold and small pearls were threaded into her hair, weaved into one large plait perfected by Geirdis's thin fingers.

"You look lovely, my lady." She says, placing the pendant of Mjölnir over Artemis’s collarbone, securing it at the nape of her neck.

The lady in question did not recognize herself. The lavender water in the large bronze bowl ripples at the slight touch of her small fingers, her distorted reflection revealing kohl lined eyes and rouge colored lips.

"She's quite right, dear sister-in-law, as lovely as Frejya herself." Hvitserk smiles as he walks in past the leather divider, hands clasped behind his back. Artemis turns around to look at him, smiling happily at his arrival.

He too was dressed extremely well. His golden hair was braided neatly in an intricate style, pulled back into one singular braid. The silken green shirt brought out his eyes and his dark breeches looked soft to the touch. He steps closer, pulling from behind his back a thin silver coronet shaped as vined hollies with small rubies in between.

A traditional northern bride was to wear a crown of wild flowers. A summer wedding meant an abundance of beautiful flowers, but with the coming of winter, they were dying with the slow passage of the winds. There was nothing traditional about this particular wedding.

"Hvitserk..."

"It was our mothers. Ivar would like you to have it." Her eyes focus on the shining coronet, a delicate symbol of power.

"Would you not like to give this to your woman someday?" She questions.

"Ivar is king, and these are his wishes. He was always the closest to our mother, and besides," Hvitserk shrugs, "I've no interest in such things. Today you become Kattegat's queen, it is only right for you to wear a queen's crown." She takes the thin coronet from Hvitserk's outstretched hands, the delicate silver feeling heavy in her hands. It was a thing of beauty with remarkable detail despite its simplistic design.

"I cannot accept this." She says suddenly, catching the way Geirdis's eyes followed the shining metal in admiration. Artemis stubbornly gives back the crown, waiting for Hvitserk to grasp it, but he never does. He only smiles, shaking his head as if dealing with a rowdy child.

"It is rude to deny something as significant as a family heirloom," He jokes, moving forward to grasp the coronet, "I've never known a woman to deny jewels." Carefully taking it in both hands, he gently places it atop her dark hair, sinking it into place. He then steps back, smiling bashfully.

"If anyone is to wear my mother's crown, it should be you." He says warmly, adjusting a piece of hair over her still healing ear, "And Ivar wouldn't have it any other way."

She smiles back just as warmly, turning back towards the bronze bowl to scan her eyes over her reflection once more. The silver coronet gleamed in the natural light coming from the window, and the rubies sparkled vividly, like the reddest roses on a fair spring day.

"Thank you, Hvitserk." He nods with a smile, head turning back when he hears the guard call for him.

"Prince Hvitserk, My Lady," Dafi steps in with a slight bow, "Heahmund has informed me that the king is ready."

"Very well," Hvitserk replies, looking back at the nervous bride, "It is time. Let's go show Kattegat its new queen." He stretches out a hand for her to take, and she does, albeit very nervously. She gives Geirdis a quick glance, and the girl waste no time in offering her mistress a smile. Artemis smiles back, standing up, and linking her arm with Hvitserk.

"Artemis?"

"Hmm?"

"You're shaking." She could hear the teasing his voice, whispering for only her to hear.

"I'm nervous, do not tease me." She whispers back, swallowing the lump in her throat.

They step out from the great hall and into the sunlight. Already the people crowded round the entrance, waiting to see the bride and their future queen. There were so many eyes on her, and all she wanted to do was shrink away from the attention. Gripping the side of her blue dress she intakes a harsh breath, willing her feet to guide her.

"Hold your head high." Hvitserk says, patting her arm with his other hand in reassurance. Releasing the breath, she squares her shoulders as if readying her bow, and slowly raises her head, directly meeting the gazes of many onlookers. Some looks were kind and warm, some were indifferent, but she did her best to pay them no mind.

Ravens cawed from up above, and Artemis looks at the sky to see a small cluster of the black creatures, perching themselves in the trees nearby as if to watch the procession. One tilted its head, gazing at her knowingly before cawing and taking flight. Its black wings soared ahead of them as if leading the way.

They walked farther away from the great hall and closer to the center of the city where the crowd was even larger. The people part to make way for the bride, her head now held up in confidence. Her eyes searched the crowd, and what a relief it was for her to see familiar faces. Aria's fiery hair was unmistakable, peeking out through the sea of town folk, and beside her was her master dressed in all his finery.

Heahmund comes into view, tall and a bit less brooding, nodding at her. He struggles to grasp tightly onto a leather cord holding back her massive beast who longed to be by her side.

King Harald steps forward, surrounded by his Vestfold men, taking Artemis's hand and placing a chaste kiss on her lavender coated skin.

"How far you have come, little Artemis." He says to her, his eyes sparkling in the way they used to before so much misfortune had befallen him.

"I shall miss your mirth, King Harald."

"We will see each other again, young Queen."

"You keep her from her husband," Hvitserk interjects, "You know he hates to be kept waiting," He smirks, a glint in his green eyes as they turn to look at her.

"Quite right." Harald chuckles in agreement, moving his large form away from the bride to give her a perfect view of the figure behind him. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not her nervousness, not the people waiting for the ceremony, not even Hvitserk who stood close beside her.

Whatever anxiousness she felt had completely melted away, replaced by the warmth of Ivar's eyes, like twinkling stars gazing at her.

He smiles, his eyes falling to his mother's coronet placed upon her hair, right where he intended it to be. It was fitting, really. He holds his crutch tightly in his hand, extending the other for her to take her place beside him, and she does so with no hesitation. Ivar pulls her away from Hvitserk's light grasp, bringing her to his side in a fluid motion. He places a tender kiss to her hand, placing his brow against her and breathing in her lavender scent.

Her eyes move over his handsome features, taking note of his nicely braided hair and silk shirt the very color of her own dress, the blue catching the gleam of the sun and the silver embroidery shining as brightly as his own eyes. She smiles at him happily, feeling how her heart pounded profusely. She thought it would beat right out her chest.

"You shake like a leaf in the wind." Ivar chuckles.

"I am nervous." She says to him, "This is unreal."

"Of course this is real, baby bird. Just look at me," Ivar says to her, "Nothing else matters but you and I, hmm?" He nudges her nose lightly with his own, emitting a laugh from her before she nods.

"The ceremony!" Hvitserk speaks out, reminding them of the affair. Heracles barks at the outburst, and the people murmur in anticipation.

"Are you ready?" Ivar asks. It did not show, but he too was apprehensive, looking down at her with the eyes of a child. Artemis takes a breath and nods, gripping his hand tightly.

"I am ready."

They both turn to face the gothi, and Ivar motions for the ceremony to begin. A goat was brought once a dagger was produced from somewhere in the gothi's robes. She closes her eyes, awaiting the cry from the animal and the sprinkling of warm blood over her face, something she was still unaccustomed to. She felt Ivar squeeze her hand, knowing exactly of her thoughts and fears, and the action alone gave her comfort. She didn't catch him grinning despite the ache in his legs from standing far too long.

He would suffer through the worst of pains just for her.

And now she would finally be his queen.

...

A Viking wedding was to last a minimum of 3 days, and the festivities were only just beginning. The music was lively, the food in abundance, and the mead flowing.

Wild chatter filled the great hall, along with boisterous story telling of lands farther than the West, and the shining cities of the East. There was dancing and performances to entertain the mass crowd, already too intoxicated to focus on anything but the drink in their hands.

The fire was roaring in the center, its flames licking at the juicy meats that hung above them. Thralls walked about, handing out dried fruits and foreign wine for all to taste.

Ivar sits in his throne, content to rest his legs, a grin on his face as he hears the stories told by Hvitserk of his adventures in Spain. Hvitserk, always an animated speaker, uses his hands, already drunk off whatever was in his cup. Harald jokes and laughs along with the rest of the men, the tattoos on his face creasing with the lines of his aged face. Heahmund too bore a smile, his lips stained with wine.

Ivar turns to gaze at his newly crowned queen, finally sitting beside him in her designated throne for the first time. In her lap was an oud, a gift to her from Hvitserk. It was beautifully crafted, with dark blue spiraled designs painted on its light brown surface. Her fingers pluck at the stings, a smile on her face as she creates the smallest of tunes from her homeland.

Her hair was now loose from its plait, the long strands hanging carelessly down her back, falling over her shoulder as she bent forward to watch the clumsy movements of her small fingers.

In that moment Artemis reminded Ivar so much of his past. He imagined Sigurd, plucking at his oud as enthusiastically as she did. There was a fleeting ache in his heart, but it passed as he reached over to brush his fingers softly against her arm. She turns to him, his mother's coronet gleaming in the fire light. She looked just as beautiful as his mother did when she wore it. That aching feeling returned, pulling at his heart strings whenever he thought of both his mother and Sigurd, but his queen's eyes had him coming back to their reality as her face twisted in concern.

"My love," Artemis says to him sweetly, "Are you unwell?" Her obedient beast lay between them, his floppy ears perking up at the sound of her voice, but his alerted eyes watched the meats being passed about by the thralls to feed the hungry guests.

"I was just admiring you. You look beautiful, just as a queen should," Ivar replies, reaching over to grip her hand most lovingly. She smiles at him shyly, rubbing her thumb gently over the surface of his hand.

"I have a gift for you." He announces suddenly, motioning for Geirdis to fetch whatever it was that he had waiting for her.

"More gifts? You've already given me enough."

"Yes, well, jewels and a new quiver seem silly now. You can make them yourself." Ivar mutters. He scratches the back of his neck as if he had committed some form of crime and Artemis rolls her eyes.

Geirdis returns with a large basket, its contents covered by a white linen sheet. The young thrall holds it over her queen who had a questioning look on her face. She glances at Ivar, who motions for her to look inside.

Peeling back the linen, she grins at the sight of four mewling kittens, all in different shades of white, black and brown.

"Forest cats. It is important for any Viking bride to have kittens in her household." Ivar tells her, smiling in satisfaction as Artemis reaches over immediately to cradle a kitten in her hands. It was a tiny thing, big eyes and large tufts of hair on its pointy ears. Its tiny teeth barely pierced the skin of her hand as it bites down in a weak attack.

"Now you have your own little cats as Frejya does." Ivar continues, watching in content as she coddles the mewling thing. His hand goes to scratch at Heracles ears, the jealous mastiff now sitting to attention, his nose detecting the smell of the tiny things.

"Thank you." She lowers her head with a smile, informing Geirdis to attend the kittens in their chambers. The young blonde girl bows, waiting for Artemis to place the kitten back in the basket with the others before hauling them towards the back of the great hall.

"Are you enjoying the festivities?" Ivar asks, bringing his drinking horn to his lips and taking a large swig of the bitter liquid. She nods, her fingers going back to pluck at the strings of the oud, and Ivar makes a mental note to hire a suitable instructor for her in the future.

"Very much, husband." The term makes him swell in pride, his chest puffing out and a smile breaking out on his lips. He had finally accomplished what no one thought he could, and now here he sat, a king with a beautiful wife on his arm.

Many men moved forward to pay their respects to their new queen with gifts of scented oils, rich fabrics, and shining gold. The women bow, offering precious trinkets and jewels, as well as their rouge colored smiles.

Ivar could already tell Artemis was overwhelmed, unaccustomed to praise, gifts, and attention. In time she would gain familiarity, but until then, he took quiet joy at the reddening of her cheeks and her fluttering lashes as she shyly thanked all who offered their best wishes, as well as allegiance to their new queen.

When all gifts were collected and put away, Artemis puts her oud down, motioning for Heahmund to come forward, who now held in his hands a large object wrapped in similar white linen placed over the basket of kittens.

"Your gift." She says, watching Heahmund place the large object in Ivar's waiting hands.

By the shape, Ivar immediately knew what it was. A sword, and a large one by the looks of it. Pulling at the linen his eyes meet with a beautifully crafted war sword, heavy yet powerful in his hands. The handle was slim, with a decorated pommel at the end in the style of the northerners. The steel shined so brightly it hurt his eyes for a moment, reflecting the vivid colors of the flames. What was unfamiliar to him was that the sword was curved.

"It's called a paramerion, used by soldiers of the Byzantine army," Artemis explains as if reading his thoughts, "Sharp and deadly in battle, you should have no problem cutting an enemy down." Ivar ran his thumb over the edge, and it was indeed sharp to the touch. Its sleek design intrigued the king, as it was nothing like the swords he's seen or owned.

"So this is what kept you for weeks, hmm?" He smiles, gripping Artemis's hand to place a soft kiss upon her sweetly smelling skin. "Such talent you have, my love."

She hums in agreement, smiling tiredly as she watches Hvitserk grab the sword, inspecting it with glittering eyes.

"Use it well." She tells Ivar, grabbing at her oud again and playing the soft tune she had been practicing moments before. The festivities continued well into the night until morning when the birds sang their song and the sun began its journey across the sky.

...

She awakens in comfortable warmth, the furs beneath her creating a cocoon of comfort. The mewling of the kittens and Heracles's soft whines for his breakfast could be heard in the distance beyond the leather divider. She turns over, eyes still closed, burrowing further into the worn out bedding. Gentle touches fall upon her cheek, and her eyes flutter open to see Ivar's equally tired features. He continues to stroke her cheek, his sleepy gaze focused on her despite the lateness of the day. She breathes out a content sigh and leans into his touch.

Quiet mornings such as these were Ivar's favorite. The comfortable silence and their sleepy haze was all he could want. He yawns, draping an arm over her waist, pulling her closer to him so that he may bury his face into her messy hair. She giggles, feeling him grip her tighter.

"Good morning, my love." Ivar says, muttering into her hair as he places repeated kisses over it.

"Good morning."

"How is the Queen?"

"Very content," She says to him, reaching up to place a kiss under his jaw, "And the King?"

"Mmm, I'd like it if we could stay right here for the rest of the day." She snorts, pushing at his tattooed chest. She sits up, stretching her limbs and yawning the sleepiness away.

"You have a kingdom to rule." She says to him as if he were unaware of his duties, and he in turn snorts back, resting his weight on one arm while the other traces the planes of her shoulders exposed by her nightdress with the tip of his pointer finger.

"The people can wait."

"Then who will they petition their grievances to?"

"The dog, of course." He says, almost sounding serious.

"You speak too much nonsense."

"And you speak very little," He counters back, moving to sit up, "Why haven't you told me of the seer?" He did not have to see her to know she pulled a face.

"Because I did not want to dampen the mood of our wedding." His brows furrowed in confusion.

"Has he given you ill words?" She flops back down against the furs, curling her body against his. She waited a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking.

"He said a child is to be born."

The silence that followed after wasn't long, but it was enough for her to peer up at him, his expression beyond what shock could be. His eyes were blown wide and his brow wrinkled further into confusion.

"Ivar?" She says his name tentatively, wondering if perhaps the subject was far too sudden to be discussed.

"A child." He repeats, his mind already drifting off at the prospect. Artemis watches the emotions flicker across his eyes. She herself never thought of producing a child, let alone marrying. The idea of bringing a child into the world frightened her, it always had. She had known many women in her village that had passed due to the struggles of labor and birth, and she did not envy such a fate.

She watches him for a moment more, not sure of what his reaction would be.

The rumors had always eaten Ivar alive, the ones that ridiculed him. Impotency was what the people whispered and Artemis herself had heard it time and time again. She never cared for such talk, of course, why should she let something of such irrelevance affect her?

One night of passion was enough to dispel such idle talk.

"Is that what you want?" She asks him softly.

Ivar suddenly let's out a short laugh, grabbing Artemis into a tight embrace. She rests her head in the crook of his neck, smiling against his skin as he let's out his rare little bursts of joy.

"A child!" He says again, pushing her back at arms length to look directly into her eyes, "A child born of our union is a wonderful blessing. Of course it is what I want." Ivar pauses, the look of emotion passing through his eyes again as his mind filled with thoughts. Ivar was always so sure of himself, but for once it was he who was the pensive one.

"A child should have been conceived by now," He says, "We've had so many nights together..." Ivar pauses, looking away from her to gather his thoughts.

"I thought it was impossible." He says finally, looking back at her with glassy eyes.

"Perhaps it will take time. Perhaps...we must invoke the gods," Her words were spoken so softly, Ivar just barely made them out. There it was again, that small hesitation he saw in her whenever she spoke of the gods. It made him smile, because he knew she was making an effort.

"I do not know whether to trust the words of such a man," She continues, "But the seer foresees danger, and if a child is born, then it will be at risk," Ivar's joyous smile dropped into a tight line.

"What do you mean?"

"He said a shadow looms over me but was unable to detect whether it is good or bad." Ivar frowns, scratching at his lengthy hair before dropping his hand to his lap.

"A child shall be born, the eye of the raven. Winter draws near and so will the enemy, lurking like a pack of wolves in the dark night. They wait for Sòl to set," Artemis recites the words of the seer, she could not forget them, "Lagertha may be dead, but her spirit lives on."

Ivar let out a frustrated breath.

"I've always believed she'd come back to haunt us." He mutters.

"How am I to bring a child into this world and already worry for its safety when I can scarcely protect myself?"

"The gods will protect you. I will protect you," Ivar speaks gently, "I will always protect you, baby bird."

"I know." She says, "I know you will, but it still does not keep my worry at bay."

"If our love produces a child, I will fight to protect you both, do you hear me? No one will dare hurt you." There was so much emotion behind his words, Artemis thought he could cry. His eyes shone with determination and perhaps, a bit of hope. She nods, drawing back to rest her head against him again. It was a promise she hoped didn't need to come into fruition, but she knew it was a promise he'd keep.

...

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @rastakami23 @inforapound @leilabeaux @a-mess-of-fandoms @ostra814 @zumzum96

#vikings #ivar #ivar imagine #ivarfanfiction #ivarxofc #vikings ivar #alex hogh andersen

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valeptraglia · 4 years

Text

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Battle of Calormen

Nope, not C.S. Lewis, all rights go to him.

...

Chapter 4: "Well, this is welcome home"

"EDMUND! WATCH OUT!" I turned around, still on the floor and with the faun on top of me, just when an arrow hit the place where my hand was a second earlier.

Suddenly all the people and creatures around me started yelling and running in every direction with fear as more arrows were shoot.

"PROTECT THE KINGS AND QUEENS!" he heard Diácano command to his men, and instantly a human-creature shield was created in front of him as he managed to get up from the floor.

Quickly and drawing my sword, I went running to Lucy's side. the men creating the shield following me closely. Chaos all around.

"Edmund! Oh my God! What's going on?" she said desperately.

"I don't know! Where are Peter and Susan?"

"Ed!" shouted Peter running to our side dragging Susan by one hand and with the other covering both of them with his shield as more arrows passed flying around us. "Lucy, are you alright?" he asked her worriedly taking her shoulders.

She nodded, still confused.

"What happened?" I asked him.

"Your Majesties! Are you alright?"it was King Erasmus; by his side the lady I supposed was his wife.

"Yes! Yes! What is going on?" I asked again pulling Susan to my side as an arrow flew past her.

"HANG ON THE SHIELD! PROTECT YOUR MAJESTIES!" Diácono was shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Calormens" He simply said "We need to protect Cair Paravel"

«Great. »

"Okay, we have to gather as much men as possible." Said Peter and then asked: "where are they? I can't see them!"

"They are by the entrance, your majesty" quickly answer Queen Calantha next to the King.

"Good. Any idea how many are them?" Asked Peter, the lady shook her head "Then we will form lines and see if we are in advantage or disadvantage." said Peter thinking quickly.

Diácano looked at his King who nodded and then hurried off with the other centaur, quickly getting lost into the multitude.

In less than five minutes, Diácano came out of the multitude again, having gathered more than seventy men in front of the big doors of Cair Paravel.

"We are almost ready, your Majesties" he said signaling to the crowd that were being instructed by his second in command. "The calormens are in disadvantage, they are like fifty and they are all gathered in the entrance" he informed.

"Perfect. Now, Susan, go with the archers and position in the main stairs" Peter ordered, Susan looked terrified.

"Are you out of your mind?! I haven't shot an arrow in years! I won't make it! I can not lead these men!" she shouted.

"Now it is no the time for panic Susan! Get yourself together! " I shouted to her face. She was stunned.

"No Edmund! You don't uderst-" she started saying, she looked very scared, but I was having none of that.

"Susan once a queen always a queen" I spoke to her slowly and remarking each word looking at her in eye seriously.

She gulped and nodded, with apprehension she left.

"Can I go with her?" asked the Queen Calantha.

Peter looked at the King, who was a little insecure, but then he nodded and Peter let her go. She run off in Susan's direction.

"And we" he said pointing to rest of us "are going to the front lines"

"What about Lucy?" I asked.

Peter looked at me with a worried expression grabbing a bunch of hair from his head.

"Lucy, you can-you you can… emm" he started not knowing what to say. The truth was that we didn't want her there, she would always be our little Lucy, if it depended on me she would be returning home right now.

"You can go with Barbra and other fauns to the hall inside the castle and be ready if any of them crossed that door" said the King Erasmus looking to Peter and me.

I looked and Peter and nodded my head. I wasn't very fond of that idea but she was going to be inside the castle, with company and would only fight if the calormens got in, besides it was unfair of us to not let her take part in the fight.

"Okay" said Peter, I could tell we were thinking the same.

She didn't like it too much but knew it was the only thing she would get from us, so she hurried off with Barbra following closely.

Then King Erasmus, Peter, Diácano and I, went to the front where the second in command had already formed the lines.

A few meters away we could see the calormens regrouping their own lines.

I turned around feeling my nerves in my stomach. The King was talking to the crowd:

"We have to defend Cair Paravel!" he was saying "we have to defend Narnia!" he was giving the pep talk.

"Are you okay?" whispered Peter standing next to me. I nodded not trusting my voice.

Actually I was a little worried. I knew we were going to win, but at what cost? I was worried for Lucy, Susan, even for Peter. I pitied that poor creatures and men who wouldn't make it, and the ones who already lay on the floor, lifeless.

I shook my head to clear it as I heard the crowd roared.

"Are we ready?" asked the King looking at the ones who were on the front. We all nodded firmly. "Then" he said raising his sword and looking hard at the calormens "FOR NARNIA!" with that the fight started.

We advanced to encounter the calormens in middle of the battlefield and as my sword crashed against the one of my first opponent my brain stopped thinking, I stopped feeling anything. I had participated in too many battles to know that having something else on mind while you fight can cost you a lot. I noticed how my abilities and reflexes were coming to my senses as if it hasn't been years since I last wielded a sword.

I quickly launched at my opponent and in a second he was on the floor. I kept on advancing ducking every once in a while to not get in the way of a sword, or axe, or arrow. I wanted to reach the archers' lines.

A calormen step on my way and blocked my view. I looked at him. « Holly shit. »

That man was huge. It was a walking-mountain. He tried to stab me but I blocked it crossing my sword with his, I gave it a quick swing and it fell to the ground. But he hadn't finished yet. He punched me right in the guts with his huge hand and I fell like a leaf to the ground gasping for air. It hurted like hell and hard to breathe but I didn't have time to feel nothing else 'cause the walking-mountain grabbed me by the neck and put me at his own height. I lifted my arm with a lot of effort and hit him with the hilt of my sword in his face and when he let me fall again I kicked him right in his noble parts. When he fell yelling in pain I slashed him in the stomach still on my knees. Taking a deep breath and full with adrenaline I jumped over him and started running again over to the archers' lines.

In my way there I saw a boy with the narnian armor on the floor and a calormen aiming his sword at the boy's neck. He looked younger than me, maybe around Lucy's age. As I was approaching from behind calormen soldier the boy diverted his gaze to me just for a second but the soldier noticed and he made a move to turn around but before he could react any further I hit him in the back of the head knocking him out.

The boy looked at the body in the ground then at me and all of a sudden the boy pushed me to the side and threw his dagger where I was a moment earlier. When I turned around I saw a calormen with its sword up falling to the ground.

I nodded and pulled him up.

I fought three more and when I was about to reach the archers' lines I saw Diácano and his second in command at my side. Then King Erasmus, Peter, two minotaurs, a dwarf, and a few fauns joined us.

Together we charged against the archers as narnians' arrows made their way through the calormens armors.

Minutes later the last calormen fell to the ground and Peter cleaned the leaf of his sword.

"Well, that went good" said Peter sweeping away the sweat on his forehead. His hair was jumbled and had a few scratches on the face, but apart from that he was okay. He was a great fighter after all.

"Very good indeed, your Majesty" said King Erasmus laughing and clapping his back.

I looked over and although was quite satisfied with the results of the fighting as there were a few poor narnians on the ground but the majority were all calormens' soldiers, I said sharply " it was not good, we just had a battle on the entrance of Cair Paravel, Since when that is label as good?" It was the truth, the battle was in the castle, this was very bad.

"Your majesty" said a faun to King Erasmus holding an injured man by the elbow. He was struggling to get free from the faun's grip but with every movement he would hiss in pain and got even paler. "what do we do with him?"

"Take him to the dungeons, and that someone takes care of his wounds, later we will interrogate him" answered the King dismissing the faun.

As we were helping in removing all the weapons from the bodies scattered in the ground a boy with strawberry blonde hair came up to the king. .

It was the kid I had stumbled with before.

"Bill!" exclaimed King Erasmus holding the boy from the shoulders. "Thank Aslan you're alright".

"Almost" he said with fear in his voice and then he noticed me "Thank you" he said nodding to me.

"Well I won't take all the credit" I said smiling.

"So, you've met each other? Bill, this is King Edmund over here, and this is King Peter" he introduced Peter and I.

"Is it true then?" asked the boy wide eyed "I am delighted to meet you, your Majesties!" he said excitedly.

"Just Peter, please" said Peter and smiled at him.

"Same" I added.

Shooking his hand Peter said"It is great to meet you".

Bill's smiled grew wider and he nodded his head in a very childish manner.

"Erasmus!" shouted Queen Calantha making her way over to her husband "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" She asked desperately grabbing her husband's face.

"Calantha, honey, honey. I'm alright" he said calmly holding his wife's hands

But she was hysterical and quickly let go of him to go over Bill and repeat the same process:

"Oh your sister is so worried! She couldn't get out of the castle to help! She feels so bad! She thought something had happened to you!" Bill tried to, awkwardly, assured her he was fine, but she wouldn't let him talk.

"Well this is my wife, Calantha, but I think you've already met her." he said pointing to the woman next to him.

"Nice to meet you, your Majesty" I said kissing her hand lightly. She smiled at me kindly.

Next to me Peter bowed his head and also kissed the back of her hand

She laughed nervously "Nice to meet you too, your Majesties. such gentlemen you are" she said and then looked at us up and down, as if inspecting "Now" said Calantha with a frown "I think you should all" and here she looked seriously at the four of us "go to the infirmary".

"Oh! It is not necessary" started saying Peter nonchalant.

"Nonsense!" said Calantha cutting him off and leaving Peter a little startled."Besides, your majesty, King Edmund, you must get that check out it looks pretty bad" she said signaling my arm worriedly.

"What? No, I'm-"but when I looked down I saw a red spot in my arm. When the hell did I get this?

You know when they say that as soon as you realize you are injured it starts hurting? Well believe me, it is true, 'cause I instantly felt a sharp pain go through my arm. And hell it did hurt.

The Queen saw my grimacing face, "See? Now off to the infirmary" and she dismissed the four of us.

We headed to the steps which leaded to the main doors of Cair Paravel just as the darkness of night took over the grounds of the castle.

As we step into the palace I couldn't help but feel I was home, it was different, after all it had been rebuilt, but it still hold that sensation of welcome.

I took a deep breath as I looked at the huge hallway in front of us. I felt so content. I glanced at Peter and he was like in trance, a dummy smile on his face.

"Your majesties?" I heard a voice asked far away.

"Hum?"

"Shall we go to the infirmary? I think your wound is getting worst King Edmund" said King Erasmus next to a pair of stairs.

I haven't noticed we had stayed in the entrance or that blood now was freely flooding down my arm and hand.

"C'mon Ed, that looks horrible" said Peter with a frown pushing me to the stairs

We followed Bill and Erasmus to the first floor and through big oak doors and we immediately were surrounded by fauns, centaurs, dwarfs, human, dryads and many other creatures, running from one side to another.

The infirmary was full.

"You know I think I can wait until there are fewer people" I said turning to leave.

"No way Edmund, come here that wound is awful" said Peter grabbing my arm. My bad arm.

I felt an intense pain in my arm, and more blood flooding from the wound. A groan escaped my mouth and I grabbed hold of my arm, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Edmund! I'm so sorry!" He apologized looking horrified his hand covered in blood.

"Please we need help here!" shouted King Erasmus.

«Great, now we have a scene»

Instantly a dryad came rushing and carefully pulled me to an unoccupied bed at the end of the room.

"I'll go get some bandages and-"

But she was interrupted when a centaur burst into the infirmary carrying a seriously injured dwarf.

His petite body was shaking and his voice was hoarse from all the screaming.

The dryad looked at me and then at the dwarf nervously.

"It's okay, I'm alright. Go with him" I told her with a reassuring smile.

She looked doubtful but with a curtsy went quickly to the dwarf.

Taking a glance around I spotted Lucy helping a nymph, she was cleaning a centaur's wound. Back home Lucy was starting her instruction to be a nurse her intense desire to help those in need was amazing.

"I'll go find Susan, you stay right here" said Peter pointedly at me "seriously". I just rolled my eyes.

King Erasmus excused himself too so I stood up and started walking towards the door when something bumped into me hitting my shoulder and making me groan. A piercing pain went through my arm.

«Oh, God. What do people have with my arm? ».

"Oh! I'm sorry!" I looked down. It was a young lady. "I-I I'm sso sorry" she stammered.

"Your Majesty, that is a very nasty wound" came a deep voice from behind me. Diácano took a closer look to the wound and shook his head with a grimace.

"It's alright. It doesn't hurt that much" I lied. The girl had her eyes wide as she looked at her hand covered in blood and then at me. Realization dawning on her face

"Oh my- I am so sorry your Highness" she said quickly bowing her head. "Stay here; I'll be right back! " and she ran off in a hurry.

I plopped myself on the nearest bed and in a short time I saw the girl coming out of the multitude carrying some bandages, a bowl with water, some clothes and a little bottle. She placed the stuff on the table next to my bed and started wetting the clothes on the bowl.

I took off the leather breastplate. It was a little difficult to do it only with one arm but eventually I managed it, the girl then helped me with the chain mail, as it was quite heavy. I was slightly self conscious but my arm just hurted too much to be bother with embarrassment at the moment, I was starting to feel dizzy from all that blood lost. Finally I took off my shirt and settled it next to the breastplate.

She step forward and looked at me as if asking permission, I nodded and with trembling fingers she reach to touch my arm, I winced a little but she saw it and withdraw her hand with worry "I am sorry, your majesty" she apologized and then proceeded to clean the wound with the damp cloth. When it was cleaned enough she put some pasty mix of herbs on it and bandaged it. It hurt but I tried not to move so she could finish quickly and with no problems. Diácano made small chat with me the whole time, probably to distract me.

"Alright, it is ready" she said looking up at me "it will hurt a little, you will have to let it rest" I raised my eyebrows "or try not to move it so much at least" she said with a sympathetic smile.

"I'll do my best" I said standing up "Thank you" I added.

She nodded and with a curtsy was gone and lost into the multitude.

"Edmund!" I spinned around and saw Lucy running towards me, Peter, Susan and Erasmus behind her.

"Lucy! Are you okay?" I asked worriedly taking her shoulders and checking her out. She giggle.

"Yes, I'm alright. Ed, how are you? Does it hurt?" she started surveying closely the bandage and looked pretty pleased with the work done on my arm.

"Oh Edmund!" said Susan hugging me carefully to not touch my arm.

"I'm perfect" I replied hugging her back then I took her shoulders and checked her out too.

"Edmund, stop that! I'm fine!" she said laughing.

"Nothing says welcome quite like a battle wound" said Peter squeezing my bad arm.

I jumped grabbing my shoulder "you idiot!" I spat throwing him a death glare but he just laughed while Susan slapped his arm.

"Good to see you are patched up!" said Bill approaching us. He signaled at my arm.

"Bill! Let me introduce you. Queen Susan and Queen Lucy" said Erasmus, signaling my sisters.

He bowed respectfully "It is a pleasure to meet your Majesties"

"A pleasure to meet you Bill" answered Susan with a smile and offering her hand for him to shake. He shook hers and then Lucy's.

Now, Lucy's attitude was quite weird, she just smiled, nervously? and said nothing. I looked at her again; she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. I looked back at Bill. Rosy cheeks she had there. I wisely decided to kept my comments to myself but I took a mental note on the situation.

Later, King Erasmus leaded Lucy, Susan, Peter and I to the old treasure chamber where our four vaults were kept along with the rest of the pasts Kings and Queens of Narnia.

Peter got his sword, shield and his golden crown; Lucy her dagger, silver crown and her dear cordial (which she regretted dearly for not having it with her in battle); Susan got her arrows and bow, her horn and her golden crown; and I got my silver crown, a sword and my lantern (at what Peter laughed and I, of course, had to smacked him on the head to, obviously, protect my pride. Git.)

Then, Erasmus called some maids to show us to our rooms.

Our rooms were in the royal wing, a few doors down from the King's and Queen's chambers. Lucy and Susan were across from Peter's and I chambers.

A nice bath with hot water was waiting for me in my room and I went straight to it. I could feel my sore body beginning to relax with the warm bath. Slowly I gave into exhaustion, I was wasted, and the fumes of the bath made me drowsy. I sighed contently but just as I was starting to drifted off the door burst open with a loud BANG and I slipped down into the water. As I came back up gasping for air I saw freaking Peter laughing out loud beside the bathtub.

"Don't you ever knock?!"I asked irritably In between coughs "I almost drowned you idiot!"

He wouldn't stop laughing. "Sorry, sorry. My bad brother" he finally apologized with his face red and lifting his hands above his head.

I scowled at him angrily "what do you want?"

He was already, showered and dressed in a brown doublet, black pants and black boots.

"Some maids brought dinner to my room, I told you to leave yours there so we could chat a little. The girls would be there too. So hurry up." he said urging me with his hands.

"Well get out!" I spat at him.

I quickly rinsed myself but totally forgot my wound in the arm and in my hurry to get finish I passed the sponge very strong through my arm.

"Shit!"

"Ed? Are you okay?" asked Peter worriedly through the wooden door.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming".

I stepped out of the tub checked on some drawers for bandages. I bandaged my arm and quickly changed.

"I'm ready" I said stepping out of the bathroom drying my hair with the towel.

"Finally. I think Susan was faster than you" He said sarcastically to which I rolled my eyes.

...

#narnia fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #edmund pevensie #king edmund the just #peter pevensie #king peter the magnificent #high kiing #susan pevensie #queen susan the gentle #lucy pevensie #queen lucy the valiant #The Battle of Calormen

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themurphyzone · 5 years

Text

104 Words for 104 Days: Umbrella

This quarantine is giving me way too much time to write silly stuff. I’m just trying to keep things lighthearted so we can laugh together.

“Acute Triangle is approaching your position, Gretchen. Large orange umbrella in hand. ETA two minutes.”

“Roger that, Holly. Standby in case we need a distraction for the entourage,” Gretchen replied before signing off and setting the walkie-talkie aside.

“I still think we should have gone with Isosceles Triangle,” Ginger muttered, peering out from beneath the camouflage umbrella with a pair of binoculars. The rain beat down mercilessly, soaking her face within seconds. But she didn’t react, continuing to survey their surroundings.

“You’re just mad because you wanted to use ‘A Cute Boy’ for Baljeet’s codename,” Gretchen said. “What’s our current status?”

Gretchen checked the weather report one more time, just to make sure the rain wouldn’t suddenly clear up and ruin their efforts. In that case, they could always fall back on Plan B and transport Phineas and Isabella to Seattle.

“Pink Powerhouse is still without an umbrella. Currently shielding herself with a raincoat. Raincoat proving ineffective,” Ginger reported. “Her hair is gonna be a mess after this.”

Gretchen winced in sympathy. Isabella’s hair didn’t react well to this sort of weather. “Yeah, that’ll be a pain alright.”

“Perimeter alert! Obsessive Fan encroaching on setup! Will intercept Acute Triangle in one minute on his current trajectory!” Holly shouted, the static crackling against her panicked tone.

Snatching up the walkie-talkie, Gretchen quickly called in the rest of the troop. “Security team! Get Obsessive Fan out of there stat!” she barked.

“We took care of it the moment we heard Holly’s transmission,” Katie replied, her voice confident and calm. “Obsessive Fan is currently in our custody and Acute Triangle was unaware of his presence. Permission to interrogate?”

“No need for interrogations, Katie,” Gretchen said. Next to her, Ginger sighed in relief. “Just hold him until our targets leave.”

A garbled male voice sounded through the speakers.

“You lucked out, Irving. If that’s even your real name,” Adyson said. “Our acting leader might not be so lenient next time.”

“I’ll have you know that my brother is planning to be a lawyer. I’ll call him and you’ll be sorry,” Irving declared smugly.

“We have several gift cards for that trendy coffee shop downtown,” Millie replied. “We’re not above persuasion tactics.”

“Ha! You actually think that would work? Imported coffee beans from Jamaica can’t possibly take priority over the bonds of sacred brotherhood and-oh, who am I kidding? This is Albert we’re talking about.”

Since the security team was handling Irving just fine, Gretchen didn’t feel the need to monitor the situation any further.

“Acute Triangle’s within range!” Ginger exclaimed. She bounced on her knees, almost dislodging the umbrella. “I repeat, Acute Triangle’s within range!”

Gretchen pulled out her own binoculars, glad that the organization had sprung for the waterproof lens.

It was impossible to hear anything further than twenty feet over the roar of the rain, but she was satisfied with just visuals in this case.

Isabella paced along the pathway, occasionally splashing through a puddle in her rainboots and looking miserable, which was heightened by her hair plastering to her face. It would be impossible for even the toughest brick wall to ignore her plight.

“Acute Triangle and Pink Powerhouse are at the rendezvous point,” Ginger said into her walkie-talkie, and everyone else responded with ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhhs’, even Irving. “Acute Triangle has initiated the conversation.”

“Come on, Isabella. You can’t play the long game anymore,” Gretchen murmured as Isabella rocked back and forth on her heels. She was trying the cuteness spiel again.

Hadn’t Isabella learned anything? Her cuteness didn’t faze Phineas! He already knew she was cute! She couldn’t catch him off-guard that way!

Groans of disappointment came from the walkie-talkie.

“Every time without fail!”

“We’re gonna catch colds and it’ll be for nothing!”

“Any chance we could intervene?”

“Hold your position, girls,” Gretchen ordered. “This is something our leader’s gotta do on her own. We’re just making sure the venue’s clear.”

She studied Phineas carefully. Mild concern had replaced his usual smile. He glanced up at the heavy clouds, then back at Isabella, who tightly held her hood in place with both hands. His grip shifted on the handle.

He took a step forward.

Then another. Isabella stopped speaking, giving Phineas a shocked look before a wide grin overtook her face.

Ginger screamed in delight.

Isabella was finally underneath the umbrella, and the Fireside Girls cheered.

Phineas and Isabella disappeared around a corner, the umbrella large enough for them to be close but not close enough to be uncomfortable.

“Mission accomplished, girls!” Gretchen praised, switching the channel on her walkie-talkie. The background noise was much quieter this time. “We’ve met our goal, Silent One. Have you upheld your end of the bargain?”

“…the forms are in your Fireside emails. Thank you for helping my brother along. Silent One out.”

“You heard him! Pack it up, girls!” Gretchen said over the celebratory yells. “Onward to headquarters and those matchmaker patches!”

Ginger snapped her walkie-talkie back into its case, then glanced at Gretchen in confusion. “Do you feel like we’re forgetting anything?”

O – O – O – O – O

“Girls? You forgot to untie me! Oh well, I’lI Spy by myself while I wait for someone to come and save me from this downpour. I spy with my little eye, something wet! Which is everything! Okay, something a little harder now. I spy with my little eye, something lavender! It’s the plant next to my foot!”

3…

2…

1…

“IT’S RIGHT NEXT TO MY FOOT! GET IT AWAY! GETITAWAYGETITAWAY! MY INEXPLICABLE FEAR OF LAVENDER HASN’T BEEN CURED YET!”

#phineas and ferb #fireside girls #phineas flynn #isabella garcia shapiro #104 words for 104 days #fanfiction

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 6 years

Text

A love that never leaves (11)

Summary: Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. Descriptions of depression. Some pretty heavy sads.

A/N: Flashback time. Grief can be all consuming and overwhelming. This time, we follow her while she tries to learn how to live again, before a night in 1946 changes everything.

And again...I am sorry.

Links don’t work, so if you want to access the full ALTNL Masterlist, just click the MASTERLIST header on my blog.

Previously...

In her hand, is a ripped piece of faded blue cloth, with a familiar gray patch sewn into it; smudgy rust-red splotches color the edges like fingerprints.

Wings. Gray wings. Nostalgically familiar, because back in the war, each of the Howling Commandos wore one on their left sleeve, a mirror image tribute to the one painted on Steve’s helmet.

Including Bucky. Who wore one on the left sleeve of his coat.

The left sleeve of his blue coat.

Now, he stares uncomprehendingly at the piece of cloth. “What - “ he starts, but his voice fades. Small shivers are running through her body as she watches him, her face filled with dread. Taking a shaky breath, she whispers.

“There was one other time we met.”

*****

February 1945

The telegram informing her of Bucky’s death, written in Steve Rogers’ messy, cursive scrawl, sits on her kitchen table for a week. Across the creamy white paper are crinkled watermarks and trickles of black ink, where the paper swallowed her teardrops and bled out the sorrow of Steve’s words. One night, in a fit of anger, she tears it to shreds and feeds each piece to the hungry flames licking up the stone wall of her fireplace. There is immediate relief at the words disappearing, but even without their physical presence, the grief always returns.

March 1945

The plush wool feels soft in her hands. A week after his last visit, she saw the bundle in a storefront and bartered two of her old dresses for it; the color was a simple heather gray, but she knew it would look perfect against the deep blue of his coat. Every evening, she would knit until her fingers ached, but in a few weeks, she had a thick wool scarf, one of her old hair ribbons tied around it for a bow. She thought she would keep it as his birthday gift. Now, on what would have been Bucky’s 28th birthday, she wraps it around her neck and crawls into bed. Sleep doesn’t come, but every memory of him arrives like a fresh bullet, punched clean through her chest.

May 1945

Over! The war is over! Relieved cries reverberate through the town when VE Day arrives, children running down streets screaming with excitement, mothers and widows weeping joyously in the streets. Healing will take decades, but with those words, the world begins to plan for what comes next. Life is breathed back into the village and in the crowded town square, she lifts her face to the sunshine and closes her eyes. Fingers the chain around her neck holding the St. Michael medal Bucky gave her for their engagement, and wonders if she will ever be warm again.

July 1945

Wildflowers grow in riotous bursts of yellow and red and purple, filling the space behind her chicken coop with color. Laying amid the blooms, she sits in the baking summer sun, tracing her fingers over the colorful images on the postcards Bucky gave her. She thinks about traveling. About visiting those places, seeing them with new eyes, free from war. When she looks at the Brooklyn postcard, she wonders about visiting his family, but then she sees the crooked hearts he drew on the back, and she knows it would be too much. She puts the cards away.

September 1945

Leaves begin to fall, carpeting the grassy bank near the stream. Going through the motions, she dumps clothes from her basket, dunking them in the gurgling water, scrubbing them clean under crystal clear moonlight. Humming under her breath, she sings to pass the time, but the only words she can find are the ones she sang the first night Bucky found her by the creek and walked her home. We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when. It hurts too much, so she just stops singing.

October 1945

Soldiers have been returning for weeks. Gaunt and haunted, new men arrive every few days, and do their best to pick up the threads of their old lives. One Saturday morning, she walks through the stalls of the market, examining produce and talking with the vendors. A young soldier steps aside to let her pass, quickly pulling off his hat and smiling. Offering a quiet hello in response, she finishes her shopping and leaves; the soldier jogs after her and nervously asks, could he perhaps walk her home? The earnest look in his eyes is so familiar, it makes her sick. She gently tells him no.

December 1945

Taking a sharp kitchen knife, she goes into the trees and cuts an armful of pine boughs. She spreads them through her house, taking deep breaths of the sharp, piney scent. In the white vase on her table, she tucks them carefully in place and adds a small sprig of holly, the red berries shining brightly. Curled in the armchair beside her fire, she drinks tea and listens to the staticky crackle of Christmas hymns on her new radio. It’s a daily battle, but it happens. Life really does go on.

February 1946

Coming home late one evening, she unlocks her back door and hangs her coat in the hallway. Rubbing chilly hands together, she walks into her kitchen and turns on the light. She skids to a stop. Filling the small space, are two hulking men dressed in black. One steps forward and quickly grabs her arms, while the other plays with a length of rope and smiles at her. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Someone wants a word.”

There’s a cursory struggle, but she doesn’t fight hard. She thinks to herself, if they kill her, maybe she’ll see Bucky on the other side.

That thought makes her smile, before the world goes dark.

*****

For the second time in her life, she awakens in a cold cell. Stretching her aching limps, she knows immediately this most certainly isn’t heaven.

Hell has a very specific look to it. One she knows far too intimately by now.

The small cell is clean, containing a lumpy bed and a worn blanket; in the corner is a pitcher of water and a bucket, and high on the wall is a small window letting in slivers of light. Her hands are bound in front of her, rough pieces of rope looped so tight around her wrists, the skin has rubbed itself raw. Blood soaks into the bristly rope fibers, staining it with streaks of black.

Where is she this time?

Leaning back against the wall, she blows out a long breath and there’s a strange satisfaction in her realization.

She just doesn’t care.

*****

Hours or maybe days later, her door creaks open. Outlined in the doorframe, is a tall Hydra guard dressed all in black, a mask over his face, a pair of reflective goggles covering his eyes. When he sees her, the gun in his hands trembles the slightest bit, before it steadies once more.

So, she thinks. Here it comes.

Motioning with the gun, the guard indicates she should stand, but she mutinously stays on the bed. If she has to go, she will be defiant to the end.

Stepping forward, he hesitates briefly, before grasping the rope and jerking her to her feet. Balancing his gun at the back of her neck, he pushes her forward.

Down a long hall they go, moving through a set of wooden doors. With a mute resistance, she refuses to walk, forcing him to physically drag her instead. Finally, he simply picks her up and throws her over his shoulder, stalking down the hallway with a series of breathless grunts.

She kicks him the entire way.

When he arrives at a heavy oak door, he bangs three times and throws it open.

The room is surprising. This is no torture chamber, filled with metal tables and metal chairs and the metallic taste of electricity on her tongue. It is warm and cozy, a roaring fireplace on one wall, armchairs strewn casually around, tall shelves lined with books.

In the middle of the room, stands Colonel Richter, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Please, come in,” he says cordially, laughter in his voice. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The guard dumps her in a sprawling heap and departs. In the flickering firelight, she struggles awkwardly to her feet and readies for battle.

“You again. What do you want? You know I won’t help you,” she snaps, her eyes roaming around the room, searching for threats.

Richter looks amused. Sipping his whiskey, he comes slowly closer until he is only inches from her face.

“First things first. Before, when you stole away in the dead of night - that was a bit rude, don’t you think?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

The quick crack of his backhand sends her stumbling sideways. The heavy ring he wears rips open a fat gash on her cheek and she instantly feels blood begin to ooze.

“Such language for a lady. Did you learn that from him? Let’s try again, shall we? I have a story for you and I’d like you to listen,” he says. “A few months ago, we were working on him and in the middle of one of his delirious rants, I hear something interesting. Can you guess?”

Glaring at him, she remains silent.

“No guesses?” he grins, raising his eyebrows. “Alright then. Through all the screaming and crying, I hear him say your god damn name. Imagine my surprise.”

The first prickles of confused fear skate up her back. “What the hell are you talking about?” she spits out.

“It took some digging, but we managed to trace the path he and that wretched group of assholes from his unit made the last couple years of the war. I sent a few search parties out, and low and behold - here you are.”

Bucky told her once, how he and Captain Rogers parachuted from an airplane. She remembers him laughing about the free-fall, how it made his stomach swoop in a million directions. That feeling of free-falling sweeps over her now, turning her blood to ice.

“What do you mean? Who?”

Richter smiles widely, his eyes gleaming. Grabbing the bloody ropes around her wrists, he yanks her forward and pushes her into the shadowy corner of the room.

“Wait here. I have a surprise for you.”

Outside the door, she hears voices arguing. The scuffle of feet and the sharp bite of an angry voice. Suddenly, the door swings open and four guards enter, dragging a fifth man.

From the dark shadows, she muffles a scream.

Bucky looks exhausted. Dressed in a long-sleeved green shirt and ragged brown pants, he’s thinner than the last time she saw him. Rings of black circle his eyes, the vibrant blue now dull and listless. All his beautiful dark hair has been buzzed short and she can see bloody sores scabbing over along his temples. The left sleeve of his wool shirt is empty, pinned up at his shoulder and his right arm is tucked behind him, a leather strap looped around his wrist and stretched across his chest, keeping his good arm immobile.

“You didn’t tell me it was a party,” he rasps mockingly. “I would’ve put on my fancy clothes.”

One of the guards grabs a fistful of his shirt and drags him closer. “Jesus Christ, I am so fucking sick of your fucking mouth,” he sneers and Bucky shoots him a cocky grin.

“Sweetheart, you’re adorable when you’re mad,” he stage-whispers. In the blink of an eye, the guard draws back his arm and smashes his fist into Bucky’s face. Dropping to his knees, Bucky’s mocking laugh turns into a rattling cough that comes up with a spray of blood and he spits strings of red on the floor. “Like being kissed by your mom,” he says weakly.

Swearing ferociously, the guard moves to kick him, but Richter holds up his hand.

“For god’s sake, every fucking time. You know he does this, why do you let him get to you?”

The guard is visibly furious, but he says nothing. Instead, he grabs Bucky by the back of his shirt, hauling him roughly to his feet. Bucky sways precariously, before he finds his balance. Taking several deep breaths, he fixes his mouth back into that mocking smirk and lifts his chin.

“Evening boys. What the fuck can I do for you today?”

Richter gives him a congenial smile. “We have a visitor tonight. I thought perhaps you’d like to meet her.”

Bucky barks out a hollow laugh. “I sincerely fuckin’ doubt that.”

Richter’s smile grows impossibly larger. “Well, let’s see, shall we?”

Pulling her from the shadows, he throws her forward and she stumbles into the light.

Here’s the thing.

Bucky Barnes is so weak, he can barely stay on his feet. For the last five days, he’s eaten nothing more than a loaf of bread and a pitcher of water. When he walks, he greatly favors his right side, still unbalanced by the loss of his left arm even a year later, and when he speaks, his voice has a perpetually guttural sound, his vocal cords shredded from months of screaming. Sprinkled across his shaved head, are a mess of pink scars where the dull razor blades they used bit cruelly into his scalp.

He looks exactly as one would expect. A prisoner of war.

For weeks, he’s been on the verge of collapse, but the moment he sees her, none of that matters.

Horrified disbelief fills his face and his eyes flick from the tears on her face, to the trickle of blood down her cheek, to the blood-soaked ropes around her wrists.

With a feral howl, he lunges toward her.

Throwing off the shocked guards at his side, he head-butts the man in front of him, sending him flying back. With a well-aimed kick, he knocks the legs from under the fourth guard and the man falls hard, before Bucky levels a savage kick to his head.

Richter laughs delightedly as he watches the show, until Bucky rushes for him. Lifting his gun, he sets it casually against her temple and cocks it. At the click of the hammer, Bucky skids to a stop, his mouth still twisted in a vicious snarl. Sweat dripping down his face, blood dripping from his busted lip, his chest heaves furiously.

“You god damn motherfucking cocksucking piece of shit, you let her go. Let her fuckin’ go, or I’ll fuckin’ gut you.”

“I thought so,” Richter says smugly. “So, our Soldier has something to fight for. How utterly inconvenient.”

“You’re god damn straight I fuckin’ do,” Bucky hisses, staggering under the rush of adrenaline. “Hurt her and I swear to god, I swear to fuckin’ god, I will slit your fuckin’ throat.”

With a dramatic sigh, Richter keeps his eyes on Bucky and bends down to speak in her ear.

“Apparently this one’s special, fights harder than anyone I’ve ever seen. Every time we wipe him, every memory comes back in a couple days. I don’t know what Zola did to him, but his brain fixes it too fast. Basically, he just won't fucking stay down.”

“Fuck no I won’t,” Bucky interrupts.

“See what I mean? You know what happened last time,” Richter says softly, his breath hot in her ear. “I don’t care if he is Zola’s little pet, he’s a wild fucking animal and I’m not above putting him down. So here we are. You fix him or I kill him. Your choice.”

“What the fuck is he talking about,” Bucky asks, looking directly at her now. “What - darlin, what the hell does he mean?”

Looking into his eyes, she thinks about that lovely blue. For the rest of her life, she knows she will see it everywhere. In everything.

Behind him, the guard he head-butted lumbers to his feet and manages to get his forearm locked around Bucky’s neck.

Richter stands behind her, waiting. Against her skin, he presses a light kiss and she shudders at the hideous feel.

“Come now. You love him, don’t you? Do the right thing.”

Clasped in a tight chokehold, she can see Bucky’s face turning red as he splutters for breath.

“No,” she chokes out. “I won’t. I won’t.”

Cruel fingers dig into the back of her neck and he hisses in her ear. “If you say no, I will put him in that chair and fry his fucking brain every single day for the rest of his life and I will make you watch. Even if he heals fast, he still screams like a baby. Trust me on that one.”

Bucky is still fighting, his throat working uselessly as he tries to draw a breath.

Every scenario, every choice, every possibility, flies through her head. Trying desperately to come up with a solution, with a way to save them both, she thinks and thinks and thinks.

And she comes up empty, because the answer is simple.

There is no solution.

Then what choice does she have?

She remembers the parade of men from before, the sound of their screams as the chair rocked bolts of electricity through them again and again. The thought of Bucky strapped in that chair, his body convulsing as the electric currents wrack his body, as he screams for her to help him - it is inconceivable. She knows what she has to do. She knows.

What choice does she have?

“Yes,” she sobs, her eyes filling with tears. “Fine, yes, I’ll do it, please just - let him go.”

Motioning to the guard, Richter points at the floor. The man releases his death-grip on Bucky’s throat, kicking his feet from under him and Bucky falls hard to his knees. Wrenching herself from Richter’s harsh grip, she rushes to catch him before Bucky’s face hits the floor.

“You have one minute,” Richter warns, fading into the shadows of the dark room. “And then you do it. If you leave anything behind again, I will kill him.”

After everything, here they are. Together.

Kneeling in front of the fireplace, the warm light cocoons them in their own world, one last time.

Bucky rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes when she cradles his thin frame against her. In the quiet room, his short, shallow breaths echo raggedly. Carefully, she runs her fingers soothingly up his neck, over the spiky tufts of dark hair and his body wilts in her tight embrace.

Sighing wearily, he picks his head up and touches his forehead to hers. Cupping his face, she brushes her fingers over the scratchy stubble lining his sunken cheeks and he gives her a rueful smile.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking. You okay with a one-armed husband?” he breathes. “Promise I can still love you just as hard.”

Tears streaming down her face, she returns his smile. “I love it. It makes you look dashing.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” he replies, pushing his nose against hers. Precious seconds slip by as they sit in silence, breathing each other in. Both trying their damndest to remember everything about the other, before they lose it all. Finally, she whispers her favorite words in his ear.

“I love you, Bucky.”

He hums contentedly and smiles. “I love you too. Don’t ever forget it, okay? I know I won’t.”

It takes every last drop of willpower for her not break down. Because he will forget. He will forget, and she will make certain that he does.

Rubbing her cheek against his, she presses her lips to the shell of his ear, giving him one more thing that the rest of the world cannot take. Something that is theirs, and theirs alone.

“You’re everything for me, Bucky Barnes. You’re the love of my life,” she murmurs, and he leans his head against her. When he opens his eyes, she finds an endless ocean of sadness pouring from the blue depths and he speaks quickly under his breath.

“Listen to me. Whatever happens, I need you to do something for me, okay?” The desperate urgency in his voice makes her heart skip. “No matter what happens, don’t you dare stay here. I can see it in your face honey, don’t you stay here, stuck in this room inside your head, thinking you could’ve done something different. You understand me?”

Swallowing hard, she tries to answer, but he cuts her off. The words are full of fear, holding a message he needs her to accept. “Please, I’m begging you. When you get out of here, you find a way to go on. Find a way to live.”

Losing him again will break her. That fact is as certain as the sun rising in the east.

There’s no way she can do this again, but in her heart, she knows that’s not what he needs. He needs her to agree, he needs her to try, and if she has to send his mind into a graveyard of buried memories, at least she can do this one thing for him.

She owes their love that much.

“I will,” she says. “I promise, I will.”

“That’s my girl,” he whispers with a tired smile. Staring into his eyes, she does everything she can to memorize the love she finds there, before Bucky gives her a crooked smile and tells her one more secret. “You know what? I don’t regret anything that happened. If I had to do it all over, I wouldn’t change one damn thing. It all led me to you, and I’ll remember every piece of us to the end. Because this kind of love, it never leaves. Right?”

“No, it never leaves,” she echoes. Placing her hands on his cheeks, she kisses him full on the mouth, tasting blood and salt and love, trying with her whole heart to carve even a small bit of herself into his bones.

Breaking the kiss, her heart plummets at the sight of his sweet smile.

Blinking away her tears, she takes a deep breath.

And then she tears her entire world apart.

Surprise fills Bucky’s face when he feels the heat begin to pulse from her hands, when he sees the soft glow of white light from her fingers. Watching her in confusion, his lips part as though he wants to say something, but no words come. Concentrating harder than she ever has before, she gathers everything, all those beautiful memories that make Bucky Barnes the man he has become and she wipes them all away.

All his stories about the Howling Commandos. That spring day he caught a foul ball at a Dodgers game. Steve Rogers’ floppy blond hair shining in the summer sun at Coney Island. The way his mother sang while she baked, and the fairytales he read his sister before bed. How he felt looking in the mirror the first time he put on his uniform, pale and scared to death. Watching a brilliant red sun sinking in the ocean, the day he sailed for England. Every memory he has of her. The thrill of their first kiss and the way she held his arm when he walked her home from church and the first time they made love and how nervous he felt asking her to marry him.

How god damn much he loves her.

Every colorful memory he owns, she siphons away. Nothing is left behind, because this time, she can take no chances.

The white light burns hotter, so bright Bucky squeezes his eyes closed and still she watches him through it all, until finally, finally, finally -

She lets go.

Bucky slumps unconscious, his chin tucked to his chest. Pressing one final kiss to his forehead, her silent tears splash to the floor. She wants to stay forever, to be there when he opens his eyes, to force herself back into this new life, to make him remember her. To make him remember who they are together.

My god. Oh my god, what has she done.

Before she can say a word, the guards rip him from her arms. Dragging him away, his head lolls to the side and the last thing she sees, before they exit the room, are Bucky’s eyes beginning to flutter open.

“Wait -“ she says, panic filling every last cell in her body, “no, please wait, don’t - please, where are you taking him?”

“He has work to do,” Richter says dismissively.

Sick with heartbreak and drowning in regret, she remains kneeling on the floor, and every last piece of her soul shatters.

*****

Day later, there’s a screech of metal, and her door bangs open.

Richter saunters in, a length of cloth folded over his arm. Behind him, is the Hydra guard who escorted her from her cell last time, his gun cocked and aimed.

Caked in dried mud and an obscene amount of blood, the bright blue of Bucky’s Howlie jacket is nearly unrecognizable. The left arm is mostly torn away, the thick material hanging in ragged strips below the elbow. With a grunt, Richter tears away a piece of fabric at the shoulder and tosses it at her.

“Here. Thought you might want this,” he says coldly.

At her feet, the cloth looks dark and dirty, but in the midst of grimy blue, she sees the gray wings Bucky had sewn into his jacket sleeve. She remembers tracing her fingers over them, asking what they meant. Bucky had grinned, his chest swelling with a bit of pride, before he wove tales for her about the Howling Commandos. He glossed over their missions and focused on the men instead, and she remembers how wonderfully he could tell a story. The small bits of humor he found amid the bleakness of war painted a bright world for her to see.

Now, she picks it up, touching the rusty-red smudges lining the edges of the wings. She looks up at him.

“Why?”

Richter says nothing, but a grim smile pulls at his lips. He draws out the pause, savoring the expectation in her face, before carelessly dropping a bomb.

“Zola lost him during a routine experiment. He coded on the table. Guess we haven’t made our soldiers as durable as we need just yet.”

This bomb, it finishes the job Steve’s telegram began. For the second time, she learns the love of her life is dead and now there is nothing but cold emptiness where her heart used to be.

“We no longer require your services. We have a new machine that should work just fine,” he tilts his head, looking down at her. “But thank you for your help.”

Spinning on his heel, he shoves the remains of the blue coat at the guard still waiting in the doorway.

“Burn it,” he orders. “And leave her here to rot.”

The door bangs shut and the lock clicks with a sickening finality.

*****

No food. No water.

For two days, she hears footsteps marching back and forth in front of her door. Something seems to be happening, but through it all, no one pays attention to the woman locked in the cell at the end of the hall, waiting to die.

In her dreams, she sees Bucky strapped to a table exactly like the one they used for her. Was he scared? Did he go willingly or did he fight? Did it happen quickly? Did it hurt? Did he realize what was happening before his heart stopped?

Was there any part of him, maybe buried deep down, that loved her to the end?

She dismisses that last thought. No, of course there wasn’t. She made sure of that fact.

In a strange way, she finds a perverse relief in Bucky’s death. At least this way, he will never know how she betrayed him.

Perhaps if there is an afterlife, someday she can find him there and beg his forgiveness.

On the morning of the third day, sunlight flows through the rectangular window near the ceiling and she waits on her bed. For someone to come. Anyone. To save her. To kill her. Either would work, she’s not picky. Watching the slow crawl of sunlight move across the floor, she counts the minutes, until she notices something peculiar.

Silence.

Sitting up takes a massive effort and rising to her feet almost knocks her out. Knees wobbling dangerously, her sweaty hand presses to the wall for balance, and she stumbles to the door.

“Hello?” she croaks, but it comes as nothing more than a rough whisper. Wrapping her fingers around the bars of the door, she rests her forehead against the cold metal. Summoning her strength, she tries again. “Is anyone there?”

Silence.

No one answers. No lights illuminate the hallway. There is no hum of electricity, no sound of a distant radio playing, no raucous laughter. There is no one there.

So. They left her to die then.

Angry tears fill her eyes, and she bangs a weak fist on the door. Without expecting a solution, she grabs the door handle and rattles it, hot tears spilling over and streaking through the dirt on her cheeks.

But miraculously - the door opens.

Stepping cautiously into the doorway, she scans the hallway and finds nothing. Perplexed, she looks down and her confusion grows. Outside the door, a cloth bundle is propped against the wall. Crouching down, she hesitantly pulls at the loose knot and it falls open, revealing a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, two apples, and a cracked leather canteen full of water.

Common sense screams at her to think, but she throws caution to the wind. Grabbing the canteen with trembling fingers, she flips the lid and chugs the cold water. It has a dusty, alkaline taste, but she cries with relief. Tearing off a hunk of bread, she stuffs it in her mouth, her eyes drifting closed at the taste. It hits the hollowness in her belly so fast, she almost retches, but she manages to keep it down.

The rest, she wraps up in the cloth sack and hugs it to her chest.

She walks down the hall. Through a small office, down another hall.

With every step, she expects to be stopped. But nothing happens.

At the end of the hall, is a heavy black door. When she opens it, sunlight spills in and she takes a deep breath of fresh air.

From the outside, the base looks like a series of old buildings, but there is literally nothing else. No people. No vehicles. Nothing but the peppy chirp of birds warbling in the trees. For one brief moment, she stands in the morning light and thinks about giving up. Such a soothing thought.

But then the sound of Bucky’s voice fills her head.

Find a way to live.

The years that follow will be filled with devastating sadness, but beneath it all, she will hold these words close to her heart. She can do this for him.

So, she starts walking.

Down the ruts of the narrow access road leading away from the building, one foot in front of the other. She anticipates bullets hitting her from behind, but nothing happens. On she walks, through a forest of trees, one step after another. Into the open, where the access road joins up with a small country lane. She turns left and keeps going. Five slow miles she traipses along, until a town appears.

On the edge of the main street, she sees a small grocery store and walks inside. Covered in grime, shivering from head to toe, she tries to speak, but instead, she collapses. An older woman looks up from behind the counter, and her curls of thick black hair bounce when she rushes around the front counter shouting in Italian for help.

For two weeks, she stays there recovering, but no one comes.

In that sleepy Italian town, she finally understands.

After everything she has done, after everything they stole from her, after they broke her one last time - it appears that Hydra really was finished with her.

With freedom should come relief, but that is an emotion reserved for saints, not sinners like her. What she has done, she can never undo.

She will live with that fact, from now until the end of her days.

*****

Next Chapter

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky fic #altnl

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alj4890 · 5 years

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Angst Prompt

(Thomas x Amanda) with the request for an alternate look at the Say Goodbye/ I Was On My Way fics.

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) let's pretend this doesn't exist on my blog.

A/N I know I said I wouldn't do anymore with this heartbreaking storyline. And yet here I am. Again. Sigh. I shared the two other possible ideas for the second part I posted a couple of days ago with bff @krsnlove and being the sweetheart she is, she said I needed to post them. So, here is my darkest version of that story for this couple. I think you will soon know why I didn't choose this version initially. Oh, it hurts. I am so sorry. I'm a fairly positive, happy person in life. I have no idea where these thoughts came from. The third and final one that will be posted shortly is nowhere near the heartache of this one. Warning: pure, terrible, horrible angst from here on out.

First part: Say Goodbye

Second part: I Was On My Way

Third alternate ending: Remedy

Song: Somebody You Loved

Masterlist

@lxaah11 @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @krsnlove @cora-nova @bella-ca @hopelessromantic1352 . @sunflowergirl05 @desiree-0816 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @emceesynonymroll @dr-nancy-house @aworldoffandoms @pixieferry @lolablackwrites @i-bloody-love-drake-walker

She's Gone (2nd alternate storyline to I Was On My Way)

"Tomorrow we will focus on scenes twenty-two through--" Thomas glared at Jessica holding her hand up.

"But the royal wedding is tomorrow." She said.

Thomas gripped his notes a little tighter. Addison and Holly shared a worried glance. He swallowed and tried to keep his anger in check. "That is precisely why we will be filming out in the countryside. Everyone will either be glued to their televisions or at the capital to watch the ceremony."

Jessica frowned. "Aren't we going to take advantage of being in Cordonia and watch it? It is a historical moment when royals marry. Couldn't we--"

"NO!" Thomas roared. "If you wish to go to that wedding instead of filming your scenes, Ms. Clark, then that is your choice. Don't expect to be in the rest of the movie if you do." He stormed off.

Jessica stood there with her hanging mouth open in surprise. She looked at Chris and the others. "Did...did I say something wrong?"

Holly sighed while gathering the script copies. "Thomas was in a relationship with the bride."

Jessica's eyes widened. "Oh no. I am so sorry. Should I go to him and--"

Addison shook her head. "Just drop it. He...he will be fine."

____________

Thomas made it back to the manor his friends Hakim and Joelle had insisted he use while in Cordonia. He shut the door to his bedroom and tried to calm down.

He hated being here. If Chris had not needed a couple of weeks off for his father-in-law's funeral, he would be back in Hollywood by now. He had pushed his crew to film as fast as they could. It had all been for nothing. He was stuck in the country that the woman he loved lived in.

He set his notes down and sat on the edge of the bed. He lowered his head in his hands. He couldn't believe that in less than twenty-four hours, Amanda would be marrying Liam. How had his decision to walk away from her resulted in this?

He rubbed his hands over his face as he went to the wet bar. He poured himself a drink and turned the television on. Any distraction from his tortured thoughts would be welcomed.

Breaking News: An attack on King Liam and Lady Amanda Bridgerton resulted in another member of the Sons of the Earth being captured. The man attempted to shoot Lady Amanda while she was out with King Liam in the capital this evening. Our heroic King knocked her to the ground, saving her from harm. News 14 has obtained raw footage taken from a bystander.

Thomas stared in horror at the crowd surrounding Amanda and Liam. She had a strained smile on her face as she thanked people congratulating her on her upcoming wedding. Liam was scanning the crowd when a man with blonde hair and glasses stepped forward and raised a gun to Amanda's chest. He yelled out that there was only one rightful king of Cordonia and pulled the trigger.

Amanda let out a muffled scream when Liam knocked her to the ground. A flurry of activity occurred as guards, Drake, and Maxwell chased after the man. Thomas moved closer to the tv and tried to see if she was truly okay when she was helped off the ground. Liam kept his arm around her shoulders while quickly walking her to a car. Her face was stark white with terror as she got in.

Thomas grabbed his phone and didn't pause to think as he dialed the all to familiar number. He paced back and forth in his room, praying she would answer.

"Hello? Thomas?"

He stopped in his tracks. "Amanda."

He heard the slight intake of her breath.

"I..." She struggled to get the words out. "How are you?"

He looked down. "Forget about that. I saw the attempt on your life! Are you alright? You weren't injured in the attack were you?"

"I'm fine." She reassured him in a shaky voice.

Thomas ran his hand through his hair as he struggled with his need to see for himself that she was actually fine. He couldn't though. She isn't mine anymore. He had no right to demand to come to her. Hold her. Promise he would never let anything happen to her.

"Are you still there?" She asked, fear tinging her words. "Thomas?"

"I'm here." He replied.

"I...I have to tell you something. Something I should have said when you appeared at the ball a few months ago." She swallowed and tried not to break into sobs.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "There is nothing that needs to be said. Nothing can be said now." He raised his head and looked out at the moonlit countryside. "We can't--"

"I still love you." She choked out. "When you told me you loved me, I meant to tell you what was in my heart. But..." She sniffed and he could hear her trying to muffle her crying.

He closed his eyes. "But it doesn't change anything."

"I'm so sorry, Thomas." She said between sobs. "I wish it were you that I was marrying tomorrow."

He covered his eyes for a moment. "I do too."

"I...I wish I could see you. I miss you. Do you think--"

"We can't." He clinched his fist. "What good would it do, Amanda? It would only add even more pain."

She struggled against the emotions choking her. "I understand."

He sat back down on the bed. "I wish you nothing but happiness." He started to say more but she let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

"You were my happiness." She bitterly confessed.

Thomas froze at her outburst. He wanted to see her. Touch her, even if it was for the very last time. "Amanda, I--" He heard voices in the background, snapping him out of that impulsive frame of mind.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go. I am needed downstairs." She quickly said.

Thomas swallowed. "Wait."

"Yes?" She said with a hint of hope.

"I meant every word that night outside of the palace." He said softly. "I will always mean it."

"Thomas." She whispered. Impatient voices could be heard in the background. "I have to go."

"Goodbye." He said.

"I...I'm sorry. I can't say goodbye to you." She quickly ended the call

He lowered his head back into his hands.

______________

The next day, he worked nonstop. If the crew stopped to eat or take a short break, he reviewed what had been filmed so far. After a late dinner alone and demands that no one disturb him the rest of the evening, he returned to his room and reluctantly turned the television on.

He expected to see reports on the wedding and reception. He had not expected to see frantic people scrambling for answers.

Breaking News: Local Authorities are working with INTERPOL and the King's Guard to locate and rescue Queen Amanda and Lady Olivia Nevarkis. Sources from the palace report that King Liam received a ransom note for the two around eight o'clock this evening. The Queen and duchess were kidnapped from the wedding reception. The Sons of the Earth claim responsibility for these disappearances.

Thomas grabbed his phone and tried to call her. When the call went directly to voice mail, he left a message begging her to call him as soon as she could.

He paced around his room. Why didn't he meet with her last night? Why didn't he try and stop this farce of a wedding? Why didn't he say he loved her once more instead of that asinine way of letting her know?

He grabbed a decanter and glass. He sat down in front of the television and drank as he flipped from one news station to the next, hoping one would show something that she was safe.

An hour later, he was summoned to the palace. Holly and Addison wanted to go with him, but he refused their requests. Holly argued with him until he snapped at her.

"I don't have time for this!" He yelled at her. "Stay here and handle things for me with the film." He hurried to the waiting car and left the two friends staring as he was driven away.

When he arrived at the palace, he was surprised to be greeted by the queen mother. Regina escorted him to a private study. Her usual cool demeanor softened. "Mr. Hunt, forgive me if I am being presumptuous, but I thought you might wish to be where you can hear news as it comes in."

He thanked her. She gently patted his shoulder before taking a seat near the fireplace. She explained that Liam, Drake, and Maxwell had snuck off to rescue Amanda and Olivia. The Guards and agents were on their way to an abandoned Nevarkis manor.

Thomas listened quietly while the television flashed images of Amanda in her wedding dress. He tried to sit still as speculations continued to be made as to the ladies' whereabouts. He stood up when the the news immediately cut to a live feed. Cameras focused first on a sobbing Olivia being wheeled out on a stretcher.

Reporters yelled questions as a battered Drake walked out with a bruised and bloody Maxwell. Both men were in states of shock. Anton struggled against his handcuffs while yelling out that he would do it again.

Liam walked next to a stretcher. Blood covered his hands and crisp, white, royal uniform. His blue eyes had tears falling as he stared at the strangely still form next to him.

Thomas zeroed in on Amanda lying there on a stretcher. Her long, dark eyelashes lay against her pale cheeks, looking much like she had the times he had watched her sleep. Her lips were slightly parted. Blood covered her chest that did not rise with a single needed breath. No IV's. No EMT working frantically over her. Nothing except her peaceful, lovely face.

Thomas stepped closer to the tv while Regina cried out in alarm at the image. Liam stopped before the cameras and held up a hand for silence. "I..." He swallowed and tried to get the words out. "It is with a heavy heart that I inform you all that..." He pressed his palms to his eyes and took a deep breath. "Queen Amanda has died at the hands of the leader of the Sons of the Earth, Anton Severus." Tears slipped down his cheeks as he struggled to answer questions.

Thomas fell to his knees as he stared in disbelief. "It can't be true." He shook his head. "She can't be dead. She was fine. She survived yesterday's attack. She survived!" He yelled out.

Regina stood and went to him. He shrugged off her comfort. Tears formed in his eyes as he fought against accepting the news. The Queen mother left him alone to tell those that were still in the ballroom.

Thomas bent forward and covered his ears as Liam's words repeated over and over in his mind. Amanda is dead. Gone. She's gone. She's never coming back. He cried out in anguish.

"No." He whispered into the carpet. "She wanted to see me." Thomas realized that another selfish choice of his cost him everything. "She wanted to see me and I refused her!"

He cried out to God to help him. Bring her back to him. Any merciful relief from this hell he had been thrust in.

He felt someone kneel next to him. He looked at Liam and begged him to tell him it wasn't true. He couldn't believe that it was.

Liam took Thomas to the room where each king and queen of Cordonia's was placed at their deaths. The young King watched as the man who truly loved Amanda stumbled toward her and gently touched her cheek. Thomas pressed his lips to her forehead while tears fell.

"I'm so sorry." He repeated to her. "I should have run to you when you said you wanted to see me. Told you every moment I loved you." He pressed her cold hand to his cheek. "I can't make it without you." He continued to plead with her to not leave him without her in this world. He slowly stroked her hair as he spoke of his need for her.

Liam kept his head bowed as he stood guard in the doorway. He glanced up when someone spoke softly to him. He nodded and spoke gently to the one mourning his lost love. "Thomas, we have to let them take her...take her away."

Thomas turned toward the men waiting to prepare her body. He looked back down at the one person he had loved with every fiber of his being. He softly kissed her lips wishing her lashes would flutter open. He wished to see that special smile she always had on her face when he woke her with a kiss. He whispered how much he loved her one last time before letting Liam escort him out.

He leaned against a wall and slid down to the floor. He stared at the closed door to the room where she was being placed in a black bag. He could hear the murmurs and then the zipper close. Wheels squeaked before the door opened. Liam knelt down and placed his hand over his heart as she was rolled past, bowing his head for Cordonia's queen and his closest friend.

Thomas watched it all with tears falling silently. Numbness was setting in. He knew that his heart had been zipped up in that bag. Life as he knew it had ended with her last breath. No hope for happiness remained. Nothing was left for him now.

#choices thomas hunt #thomas hunt rcd #thomas hunt x oc #thomas hunt x amanda #choices the royal romance #choices trr #trr liam #trr drake #trr olivia #trr maxwell #pure angst

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hubcat99 · 5 years

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Las Campanas: Chap 2

=＾● ⋏ ●＾=

The Beginning

“Leave now!” The man in the deer mask growled out sternly.

Brian nodded and tried to force his useless appendages to work. His legs shuffled in the dirt, only able to lift up dust instead of his body. “I can’t! My legs! Fuck since that THING screamed I can’t get up!” Brian’s breath stilled when the deer man cupped his cheek, pressing their foreheads together.

“I call upon the light of the holy daughter, please bless those two with safe travel.” A soft glow emitted from the man’s hand.

Brian wrenched his legs under himself and stood up with the deer man’s help. He held Hollie close and risked a glance back at the writhing beast. “We need to get out of here…”

“Take the girl and flee to a house with a seal.” The man turn back to the beast. “ I am a Cazador, and my job is to rid this world of these beasts.”

Brian was sure it was meant to sound strong and commanding, but there was a waiver in the Cazador’s voice. He watched the Cazador raise his blade with a slight shake in his hands, still ready to take on the beast.

The beast snapped it’s head up and slid it’s limbs back closer in its body, minus the one that the Cazador cut off. Once it’s head twitched and cracked in the direction of their small group it let out a blood curdling scream. It sounded like something mixed between a wet two toned high pitched animal and gurgled child’s scream. It clawed at the ground, snapping it’s nails with the force it used to rush at them.

“Run! I’ll cover you!” The Cazador dashed forward to meet the the beast, catching one set of claws on the edge of his blade.

Brian cursed under his breath feeling helpless, leaving the Cazador to get slammed into the dirt. Hollie's soft whimpers spurred Brian forward as he tried to find a willing house to open it’s doors. He wanted to drop the child off and rush back to the Cazador, even if he didn’t have his hunting gear.

“Brian over here!”

Brian lifted his head towards the doorway where an old weathered woman stood. “Baba!” He staggered over to her, his legs almost giving out with the sheer relief in his body. “Take Hollie I have to head back there is this guy in a deer mask!”

Baba glared up at Brian as she pulled the small child behind her. Though her expression was stern, her eyes were soft. “You are reckless just like your mother…” When Brian tried to leave, a strong grip held him in place. Baba handed Brian two arrows with weird black tips and a bow that needed to be stringed. “Take these you fool!”

Brian blinked then smirked at Baba, leaning down to kiss her brow. “You crafty woman!” He put the arrows under one arm, running back as he strung the bow. Brian rushed to climb a building, ignoring the sting of pain as he hurried up. Once at the top Brian’s heart dropped into his stomach at the scene in front of him.

The beast was laying on it’s back with several new spider like legs jutting out of it’s abdomen. Two of its remaining hands were wrapped around the motionless Cazador's chest and legs, his sword nearby. There was so much blood, colouring the ground with crimson flowers.

Unimaginable rage and fear gripped Brian’s heart like a vice, seeing the sacrifice laid out in front of him. He placed on arrow in the bow, drawing the string back as he took aim. Brian was having a hard time with the twisted anatomy of the beast, aiming for the throat.

“I am simply surprised he is still alive” A deep unsettling chuckle, bubbled up next to Brian.

Brian popped into action out of reflex with the sudden person next to him. He let the arrow fly unintentionally, slicing a thin line into the strangers scarred cheek. Brian couldn’t formulate a sentence because he knew he had climbed the building alone. When he took in the stranger’s battered owl mask, Brian’s mind sparked to life. “You’re a Cazador?! Why aren’t You helping him?!”

The stranger laughed coldly, as if Brian had said something funny. “Now why would I do that? I much prefer waiting so I can see his final song and then liberate the bells.”

Brian stepped back from the Cazador, taking in all the bells that was tied to him. He had never seen a Cazador with so many bells on their belts, hair, ears, but not their mask. There was one thing that petrified him the most, none of the bells chimed. He snatched up the last arrow and aimed it at the stranger, not getting a reaction from the other man.

“They say that at the last moment of desperation the Cazadores flare up, like the sun was stored in their bodies.” The man leaned over the edge of the building, a slow smile brimming his face. “I wonder how much more blood this little one has to lose till it- Aha! Look! It’s starting, his swan song.” The man clapped. “I hope he lets out a beautiful final scream.”

The world around Brian seemed to be drowned out by the blood throbbing in his ears. He naturally wasn’t going to sit by and watch the deer mask man die, like this monster was. Brian turned his last arrow back at the beast, noticing a faint glow behind the deer man’s closed eye lids. “Shoot the beast and grab the sword..” He chanted the mantra a few more times before letting his arrow fly, climbing down the front of the building. Brian reached the black sword just as the arrow lodged into the beasts throat with a wet crunch.

The deer mask Cazador’s head rolled to look at Brian struggling to pick up his sword. “L.. leave… to.. heavy.. let me… die…” He grunted when the beast squeezed tighter, lapping up his blood from the soil.

“Shut up! I won’t- fuck this thing is heavy!” Brian grunted, lifting the sword above his head. His shoulders felt like their were going to snap from the sheer weight of the blade. “I WON’T BE IN SOMEONES DEBT WHEN I CAN STILL FIGHT!” With a guttural roar Brian brought the sword down on the beasts arms two arms. They were both splattered in thick tar like blood, but the Cazador was freed.

As the beast curled in on itself screeching, Brian helped the Cazador escape. He was really starting to feel the drain on his wrecked body, but they were almost at Baba's. Brian's grip on the Cazador spilled a few times from his blood soaked clothes, but he was determined to get them to safety. “Almost- almost there deer man…”

“Moo..” The Cazador said softly as he drew in a wheezed breath. “Call me Moo.”

Brian grinned at Moo, the warm glow from Baba's open door washing over them. “My name is Brian.” He helped Moo into the house, but stopped short himself. Brian was confused as he wasn’t able to cross the threshold, everyone staring at him with wide eyes. He opened his mouth to ask what was the weird looks were for, but warm liquid pooled over his lips. Brian’s body staggered backwards against his will, making his tired brain more confused. He looked down seeing his stomach squirming unnaturally, just before something that looked like black snakes break through the front of his shirt. The snakes didn’t have heads, instead there was small baby like hands that gripped at Brian. He looked up and smiled weakly at Moo, more blood flowing from his mouth. “Oh…” Was the last thing he said ahead of being dragged back into the darkness of the night.

#terroriser #moo snuckel #terrormoo #Las Campanas #chap 2 #Story Time #banana bus squad #banana bus crew #BBS #bbs crew #bbs squad #fanfiction #:D #i did things

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phoebtcnkin · 5 years

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tagged by: @nathaliekclley nicknames: half of my family calls me ‘cake’, the other half calls me ‘peanut butter’, and one lone aunt calls me ‘kayla corn’. i can’t even say i’m surprised they’re all food related. zodiac: virgo sun, aries moon, gemini rising (although there’s some debate about my birth time. oh well.) height: 5′4″ hogwarts house: according to the test on that one website i’m a slytherin last thing i googled: i can’t remember which came first and which came second, but yesterday i p. much simultaneously reverse looked up a missed call on my phone (turns out it was the hospital) and i also typed here kitty kitty by jardine libaire into the address bar of my computer bc i was too lazy to pull up amazon directly and needed to buy it asap. favorite musicians: god. this is... varied. the 1975, the used, blackbear, carrie underwood, NF, chiodos, dustin lynch, lewis capaldi, underoath, hozier, thomas rhett, every time i die, eden, halsey, the menzingers, the plot in you, dan + shay, young the giant, and letlive. plus 2973237 others i’ve probably forgot or neglected to mention bc we ain’t got all day. song stuck in my head: lately it’s been a toss up between ‘just sign the papers’ by aaron west and the roaring twenties (eta: i NEED this for a plot. thnx.), and ‘am i here?’ by fever 333 following: 388 followers: 405 do i get asks: on rare occasions, but i’m notorious for habitually forgetting to ever check it + respond. sorry friends. i stg it’s not personal. i’m just a living, breathing, permanent mess who has the memory of a goldfish and the attention span of a 3 year old. amount of sleep: uhm. i don’t understand the question. lucky number: 3 (i was taken in by my family at 3 weeks old, officially adopted at 3 years, and it took 3 chance encounters for my fiance to finally ask for my name and number) outfit rn: my fave sweats that i bought at the harley dealership i used to work at and my fiance’s pittsburgh penguins tee. guess i went to bed nostalgic for home lol dream job: professional mermaid/napper/wine drinker/netflix binge watcher. beyond that? probably something in interior design/decorating or writing/publishing. i’m an indecisive mess of interests and desires. we know this. dream trip: ireland and greece and australia and morocco instruments: i got kicked out of 4th grade flute if that tells you anything. i like to pretend i can play all the drums, guitars, and saxophones laying around my house, though. does that count? languages: english, whatever my brain sporadically remembers from grade school french + high school spanish, and ‘head, shoulders, knees and toes’ in japanese + numbers 1-10. fav song: again, it’s a tie. ‘gum’ by moose blood and ‘gorgeous’ by mansionz + basically anything and everything else my fiance has ever randomly sent me/dedicated to me/or danced with me to at 3am. random fact: my legit #1 fear in the entire world is worms and i bawled like a baby when michael proposed to holly on the office. aesthetic: a swirling tornado of coffee spills and chaos. but i guess lots of black, ripped jeans, plain tanks, and leather sandals are my go-to uniform if i’m not in the same sweatpants i’ve been wearing for 3 days straight. in terms of my house? i’m a mix of modern/minimalistic and bohemian vibes. i like clean and i like carefree and cozy.

tagging: @macherierps, @hilarydcff, @sammrps, @londonrphs, @anniematron, @rcleplayer, @dropsofautumn, and anyone else who wants to do it bc i’m out of time now lmfao

#about me

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aprilbrowines · 6 years

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Princess problem

Janaya used his fire magic to grab Morgan and Lucius by the head so they can pay attention to him.

“Care to tell me why Vera is depressed all of a sudden?” said Janaya. His expression to them is a mixture of Stoic and calm manner, but his tone has a hint of anger. And his arms are crossed. “All I ever wanted was to have a normal day and looks what happens.”

Janaya showed them his phone and see the news about how Vera got humiliated. They got nervous Morgan started to sweat while Lucius whistles trying not to make eye contact with Janaya.

“Actually it's quite a funny story you see…” Lucius stammered.

“Lucius wanted to test out his new weapon that he made and I wanted to stop him but…” Morgan interrupted Lucius with an excuse.

“THAT’S BS AND YOU KNOW IT!!!” Lucius exclaimed, shocked that Morgan would throw him under the bus.

“Beside it's not like we hurt her or something.” Morgan said

Janaya glared at the two. He cannot believe that Morgan is blaming Lucius and not taking full responsibility of his own action like Lucius.

Lucius cleared his throat.

“Let me try to clear this story you see.” said Lucius.

“Very well.” Janaya allows as he listens to Lucius' side of the story.

“Me and Morgan were getting parts for some of my weapons and gadgets when suddenly.”

A Flashback starts

Lucius hears a scream coming from the park.

“Sound like someone in trouble,” said Morgan. They leave the box of spare parts behind. They turn to see the park in shambles trees were uprooted, benches broken in half, and the people were running in fear of getting eaten.

“Okay, I am visualizing the scenario,” affirmed Janaya. “And how does it related to Vera?”

Lucius and Morgan ran into the playground and saw a three-eyed girl demon girl on the ground, her face widen in fear of the monster as her bodyguard struggles to protect her.

Janaya's eyes are shunned.

“The scream belongs to Vera?” questioned Janaya with his mouth dry. Then he's confused. “Wait, where is her bodyguard, Cayenne?”

“That's the thing she was trying to push back the monster while getting innocent civilians out of the way,” Lucius explained.

“I tried to help Vera get to safety you know,”

Morgan uses his magic to pull a fire hydrant and threw it at the monster.

“Hey, ya big warty dork come and get it” taunting the toad it hops toward Morgan when it came closer he slide under its legs as it crashed in a nearby parked car.

Lucius threw his thunder bolas at the monster shocking the monster to submission, While Morgan carried Vera away from the danger, but she was fighting.

Janaya glared at the ground and tightens his fist. Vera has been fighting the monster by herself? That cannot be. She has been always fighting monsters with her super princess partner, Nia together, well Nia did most of the work. Vera is pretty defenseless without a few karate moves and swordsmanship. She hadn't been using her demonic powers yet due to being sheltered a lot, just looks at her. Caring for the world and making a difference without knowing what it is like to face reality.

Visiting the injured and the poor as the Royal Sweetheart during the battles between Mewmans and Monsters and helping them by using her wealth does not count. She was so stupid to fight on her own.

“What happens next?” Janaya said.

“Well” as Morgan continues to retell the event, carrying Vera to the a nearby alley she wiggles in Morgan’s grasp. The Flashback continues.

“Let me go you do you think you are?” Vera said, pushing him away from her. Morgan tried to impress her with his monologue “My friends calls me the white shadow my enemies a ban to their existence, but you call me Fox Charme.” as he posed in a hasty manner.

Janaya remained stoic as he cannot believe that Vera didn't say “Thank you”. Didn't her mother taught her any manner, but she did learn not to trust strangers. Including those who wanted to kidnap her.

“Continue.”

Vera looked at him with an unamused look on her face. “Well, whoever you are, you can let me go I have to find my friend.” she said as she looks for Cayenne. Suddenly Morgan grabbed her arm.

“You mean your bodyguard she's with Lucius, they'll be fine.”

Vera wiggled to get her arm out she cried Cayenne for help and at the same time kicked him in the vital point. Cayenne and Lucius were looking for the two in the chaos of the monster attack. They found them in the nearby alleyway. Cayenne who see Morgan grabbing Vera's arm, causing a huge misunderstanding.

“Hey! Get the f*** out of here and leave it to the professional!” She demanded.

“EXCUSE ME!?!” Morgan said dramatically.

“Lady, I am a professional! I just save this young lady from certain doom.” Morgan said, trying to get some respects from the brash mouthed girl. Lucius putting his hand on his face.

“Morgan don't start.”

Cayenne walks up to him and poke his chest. She furrowed her eyebrows and glare at him.

“Oh Yeah? What group?” Cayenne asked, getting in Morgan’s face.

Lucius gulp. Morgan is going to break the number one rule, never tell anyone about The Synonymous.

“We don't need a stinkin group” Morgan answered as he pokes her chest with his finger in defiance. They broke the next rule, do not interfere with the Vanguard League.

“Well then You’re coming with me” Cayenne said as she grabs Morgan’s arm like a parent dragging their child to shop clothes.

“Hey, let me go.” Morgan tries to wiggle his arm out of the bear trap like grip, seeing this Cayenne change to the fireman’s carry.

“Not a chance bub” Cayenne said as she carries him to the police station. Lucius and Vera watched as the two flies away.

"You were in jailed?" Janaya questioned in a neutral face because Morgan has been in jail for a few times now since joining The Synonymous. He seemed to manage to escape using his vortex manipulation and creation, with his mom's help of bailing him out afterward.

“Technically Morgan was taken to a precinct I was just the neutral party.” Lucius explained.

“Traitor,” mutters Morgan.

"We are suppose to be doing community service, working on our jobs, and fighting crimes at night. Not doing a superhero team up with the Vanguard League to fight crimes in the morning." Janaya explains pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well we were suppose to do? Just let the monster go wild?” Morgan asked confusedly.

“Of course it is. You need to leave it to the professional of the day. If you want to help fight monsters. Do it in the night with Lily Greason. Hunting down monsters, capturing them and sometime slaying them is her job.”

“And who is she is?” Morgan questioned.

“Another member of the Arcane and Holly's girlfriend.” Janaya answered as his patience is running thin. Morgan is a newbie the only Arcane members he know and already met are Holly and him. And he never knew that Holly has a girlfriend.

“We’re sorry sir,” apologized Lucius.

“I don't have to apologize” Morgan mumbled under his breath. Hearing the last part Lucius slap Morgan on the back of his head. Morgan rubbed the back of his head.

Janaya put his hand on his face in irritation and tiredness. "You cannot change Morgan, Lucius,”

The tiredness and irritation caused Janaya's fire magic to manipulate a giant lion made of orange flames from the palm of his hands. The lion roared angrily to stop the two from bickering. It lifted it chest up in pride for the Synonymous. Morgan stared at Janaya on how he’s treating him at first and then astonish of what he did. It was amazing. His eyes were sparkling. While Lucius just stood there in frozen in fear on whether the lion was going to kill them if Janaya was not controlling it.

“I am not saying he is not like his father, but he is just a kid. Unlike me, I had to grown up quickly. He is lucky that he is still a kid acting reckless and regrets it until he learnt and grow."

Janaya calmed down for a bit. He took a deep breath and relaxed his face. The fire lion is extinguished.

“I guess you're right.” Lucius said.

“Morgan, are you all right. Lucius didn't mean to slap you or treated you poorly because of your dad.” Janaya asked in concern. He rubs Morgan's back side of his head. His hand glows to icy blue causing his hand to be cold as ice.

“It's fine.” Morgan answered.

Janaya looked at him. “Lucius..... What happened next? After Morgan was taken to a precinct, after Vera was rescued?”

It turns out the monster that Cayenne was fighting wasn't out yet. Vera and Lucius are sitting down at their seat. They watched as Cayenne and Morgan argue against each other to the Police, the monster bust in the building.

“Watch out!” Morgan cried out.

Vera pushed Cayenne, but the monster push them both. Cayenne slammed onto the wall. While Vera fell down to the ground.

“We got to help them.”

“You distract the monster, I'll get the girls.” Lucius explained.

“Starplosion!” Morgan shot an array of white sparks at the monster, It squealed in pain as turn to Vera in hunger.

“Y’all ok?” Lucius asked as he gives his hand to help her up. Cayenne glares and stand up and reject his offer. “Thanks, Now buzz off,”

“Wait... Where's Vera?” Lucius Looked around to see the monster closing in on her. It’s tongue wraps around her pulling her into its slimy, stinky maw, Cayenne, Morgan and Lucius watch in horror as Vera is eaten alive.

“Vera, No! Crap!” Cayenne exclaimed. She just let herself leave Vera for a couple of minutes and the monster ate her. As Cayenne was about to take action. Lucius runs towards it as he takes off his jacket and tackle the monster. “Spit her out ya bastard!” he demanded. Lucius pries the mouth open as he saw a bit of Vera’s head.

“MORGAN GET HER OUT!”

Running towards the monster Morgan does a flying kick to the monster's stomach, making it puke out its contents. Car tires, a stop sign, and Princess Vera were all covered in puke as everyone started snapping pictures of her. Cayenne yelled and threatens the people to put their phone and camera down as Vera starts to sob.

“I think we should leave” Morgan said as he threw a smoke bomb and disappear. “Sorry!” Lucius yells as he ran off from the scene.

“Hey, come back here!!! Grrrr I will find you and hunt you down,” Cayenne threatened the two as she keeps the paparazzi from taking more photos Vera crying into her hands

Janaya smack his forehead and groan. "I may not be her bodyguard.... because I am an unofficial and secret bodyguard, but I will get a scolding from Margo," he thought.

“I'm sure people will forget I mean there are plenty of celebrities who get in trouble.” Morgan said, trying to find the bright side of the situation. Janaya cannot believe what he just heard out of Morgan’s mouth. He thinks that Vera is just a celebrity that can be forgotten in one day.

“Vera is more than just a celebrity,” said Janaya. “She is the princess. A princess from another dimension, The Underworld, Mewni.”

“We didn't know that she was of blue blood.” said Lucius, not knowing about that part.

“Well, read the newspaper, watch the news on TV and read the news online next time.” Janaya scolding the two of them. Lucius and Morgan both look down in shame of their mistakes.

Janaya’s face softens as he realized what he said. He let out a sigh. He snatched the reports from their hands, they wrote in their own perspective about what they did.

“I will send these reports to Ethan. I will see you two then. Good job helping the Vanguard League, You two deserves a break.”

Morgan and Lucius smile a little bit as they leave to their room.

Janaya walked away, holding a book. "I see a bright future in these two," he thought. "I am a seer.”

Vera lucitor, Cayenne Jojo belongs to @princesscallyie

Nia Butterfly belongs to @kururu418

Morgan morningstar and Lucius vreedle belongs to @aprilbrownies (that’s me)

Holly test and Janaya Lynn thomas belongs to @froppy-butterflyfan2000

Ethan Corduroy and Lily greason belongs to @ej-cappy-universe

#morgan morningstar #Lucius vreedle #oneshot

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