#name one reason she did I dare you coward

[ch4osworld]

THE PASSENGER

Chapter 4

Word count:1124 @cherry-4200 @adaizel

Yeaaaah finally chapter 4! I hope you'd like this one. I actually managed to put more effort into it so yeah

"Ehy bitch!" Lucifer exclaimed, a nervous look clearly evident on his face. A few seconds have passed as she was announcing whatever she had to announce to him, in an instant his face contorted from an anxious one to a happy one "YOU ARE INVINTING ME TO SEE YOU. YES I'LL SEE YA THERE BYE I LOVE YOU" he ended the call, as he stared at you , eyes shining with excitement "MY DAUGHTER INVITED ME TO SEE HER Y/N! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!" He burst, going out of the pool and getting dressed "Yes, Luci, I heard you while you were on call you know?" You answered, following him outside "Do you want to come too? It's been a while since you saw her in person too, i am sure she'll be happy to see you" "No thank you, it would be good for you two to have some farther-daughter moment alone. I am fine just in here" "Are you sure? Come on you know you want to see her" he coaxed "I couldn't be more positive about it" "Well ok then, i'll see ya later" he finishes, giving you a smirk and kissing your hand as a final goodbye. Oh he was such a tease. You loved him so so much, you desperatly wanted to ask him out, but the ring on his finger was a constant reminder of the things you could have done there in heaven. If only you wouldn't have been so coward, maybe, just maybe, he would be yours now. You walked through the castle, the white of the walls contrasting perfectly with the f/c of your clothes, dirty of blood that you weren't able to wash away, a looming sensation watches over you, a feeling of sorrow drowned you, as you knew something would have happened to you, one day. Not that you could do something about it, but when that moments will come, may the root of all evil have mercy on you.

A finger traced on your arm, as your nail went deep into your flesh, almost scarlet blood flow to your hand. Your blood was a constant reminder of the holyness you were slowly losing the more you lived in this gruesome place. Even being free from the fruit of knowledge of good and evil couldn't save you from slowly corrupting yourself, as sin was spreading all over you. You wondered what would have happened if you decided to accept his offer, what would have happened if you ate the apple.

"Dear, don't you want free will?" "I have already free will, you're a fool if you think I would disobey God like this. What would this make me gain?" "You don't seem like having free will to me, come on, I never saw you doing anything you actually wanted to do" "oh yes you did, many times in fact, the only things I want to do is to submit to God and to obey my husband" "Or is it really? Do you know what this could give you?" "Enlighten me, Lucifer, isn't this what your name means?" "This could give you more than you already have. More sensations, more experiences. You've never felt the lust of the flesh, the feeling of shame, don't you want to be complete? Don't you want to feel whole?" "Such a foolish reason, i don't need lust, i don't need shame, i don't need more experiences" "You are so stubborn, that's what I like about you. I hope one day you'll be able to understand why i am doing this. Now i shall go, my dear, duties are waiting" he said, a kiss planted on your forehead. He was such a moron, that's why you loved him, if God knew what he was trying to make you do, and what he already made you do, oh the things that would happen to him. You wouldn't be able to bear it, no one shall ever know.

You reached the comfort of your bedroom, a single red eye watching over you. You glared back, coldly. You knew too well who that belonged to, you knew you would be her next victim, even so, you didn't dare to say a thing to Lucifer. You cared too much about him, you didn't want him to worry for you too, he had already enough problems. You laid back on your bed, the eye following your every movement as it was studying you, trying to decipher your every secret. A strong feeling of death engulfed you, the more the eye stared at you the more it amplified. After some minutes you got too anguished by it to continue to stay in there, you decided to exit and go into Lucifer's room instead, it wasn't far from yours. As you entered the first thing you noticed where the big piles of rubber ducks, two campturing your eyes. It was you and him, in a little duck version, how cute. You sat on his bed, looking at the photos hung on the walls, it was mostly him and his family, but right in the middle, there was a protrait of you. The first ever of the many there were made. He promised you he would have throw it away because you thought you looked ugly in it, yet he didn't. You remeber that when you shamefully showed it to him his eyes lit up, he said you were perfect. He was so sweet to you, still is. Maybe in a few months you'll be able to confess to him, maybe he loved you too. Yes, you were sure of it, you were going to declare your love to him, possibly before the next exetermination. As you were thinking about what you would do, you felt Lucifer coming to his room, he was back already? You managed to get out just in time, before seeing him with a worries expression on his face "Luci? What happened? Did something go wrong?" "It's just that, my daughter is going to go on a meeting with heaven and i am just so worried. You know how heaven can be" "Yes, i know, but she is a smart woman, i am sure she'll be able to handle it yeah?" "I guess your right, i hope she'll be fine..." "she will, don't worry" you finishes, inviting him to an embrace. He didn't think twice to ingulf you whole, taking out his wings to seclude you two from no one since you were alone. In that instant all your hollow thoughts were soon forgotten, as all you ever wanted, all you ever needed was here, in your arms. That's just all that matters, for words are unecessary, words can do more harm than there already is.

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 20 || 812 Words || Read on Ao3 —

18 September 1978

She spent the whole Order meeting casting fleeting glances his way across the room—taking in the way his hair fell flatly against his forehead, how his eyes had less light, how his smile seemed stilted.

It feels like ages since she’s felt his arms around her and been able to breathe in the slight woodsy scent that’s so James. The gentle scratch of his calloused fingers on her cheekbones, the way his tired voice said her name after a long day—she misses it. She misses him. Unbearably so.

It feels like ages, but it’s only been one month.

One month since she had walked away—convinced herself that they didn’t make sense, that it was too dangerous, that it wasn’t fair to either of them. He had fought her at first—of course he had—but at some point a look of utter defeat slid over his face and she knew she’d won.

‘Won’ didn’t feel like winning.

She’d been miserable from the start—it’s not like she actually wanted this. It was the instinct of some deeply-buried self-sacrificial part of her that she’s never been able to shake. The first two days she’d been unable to pull herself out of bed, and if it hadn’t been for a very pushy and worried Sam and Dorcas, she’d likely still be there. 

But she had gotten up, and she’d gotten back to her life—at least going through the motions of it. Three weeks in and desperate for distraction, she’d even said yes to a date from the barista at her neighborhood coffee shop. Five minutes into the date and she knew it had been the second-biggest mistake of her life; she’d been wracked with guilt and completely uninterested in what her date had to say, comparing his every mannerism to James. 

She’d left ten minutes in, like a coward.

She would never be able to shake James from her system—it was something she always suspected but now knew. As the room starts to come to life and people shift from their seats to exit the room, she steals another glance at him and their eyes meet. Behind his glasses, they’re hazel and wide with the same shock that shoots down her spine. In the seconds that follow, she sees her own sadness, grief, and anger reflected back at her, and she realizes that just like her, James is stuck.

Stuck in misery, stuck in loneliness, stuck in love.

“Coming?” Sam asks hesitantly from her left.

Lily slightly shakes her head, not daring to break the eye contact she’s been craving for a month. “I’ll be right there.”

Squeezing her shoulder, Sam departs, and Lily’s heart skips a beat as James stands. She’s frozen with the terror that he’s going to leave—just like she did to him—but he takes two steps forward.

“Hey, Evans.”

The defeat in his voice cracks her heart right down the middle, and the only thing keeping it from breaking clean in half is the soft, barely-there hint of hope that acts like a stitch. It’s a tentative step towards next, whatever that might be, and relief floods her system.

“Hey.” Her reply comes out as a strangled whisper as tears prick the back of her eyes, and James moves towards her a bit more swiftly, taking the seat next to her.

Hesitating for a fraction of a moment, he takes her hands in his—the warmth, the reality of him causes a tear to fall, trailing slow and hot down her cheek. His voice is quiet, tense. “What is it?”

“I”—she takes a shuddering breath—“I hate this, James. I miss you. I miss you so much.”

His hands tighten around her own, pulling them into his lap, and when he speaks, it’s strained. “Then why’d you leave, Lil?”

She scrunches her eyes closed, leaning her forehead into his shoulder as she shakes with suppressed sobs. A warm hand on her back makes her stomach flip and gives her the support to find her breath in between the tears. “It made sense at the time, I guess, but I don’t know. I was scared? Worried? Whatever my reasons were, they don’t outweigh the fact that I love you more, and I’m such an idiot, James—”

Another sob cuts her off and she feels the firm press of lips in atop her head, James’ mouth rustling her hair as he mutters reassurances.

They sit in the Order’s empty meeting room for a while, holding one another, as if trying to make up for the month that they’ve lost. When the time comes to break apart, to stand, to go about their normal night, Lily’s muscles ache from sitting so long in one position. Wordlessly, James takes her hand, and even though they still have much to talk about, she feels a sense of surefootedness for the first time in a month. 

[blues824]

🌹Can I request a secario where a female riddle Rosehearts being isekai'd in the the word of the remarried empress.

❤️Imagine sovieshu wants her to be his mistresses and she get red with rage and almost usses( off with your head) not even te king of the qween of hearts dared to take a mistress and imagine her telling him that having a misters is braking one of the rules that dezeve the biheading of both parties king or not.

🌹Imagine her being navier right hand because she respected knows the rules and treats her like the empress that she is with full respect and admiration( and she doesn't have to worry about her sleeping with her husband or her trying to drag her name in the mud unlike rattrash😤 )

❤️Her telling navier about how her mother was like and how she was dorm leader of heartslabyul and imagine navier loving the idea of a rose garden like In her word to make her comfortable( and the female riddle throwing a unbirtday party for her because her birthday got ruined).

🌹Her understanding heinley when he is a bird because of the animal Language classes back in twisted wonderland.

❤️Imagine everyone learning about her idol the qween of hearts and her tendesy to decapitated the people who dare to not follow the rules.

🌹She could not stand rattrash because she is not following the qween of hearts rules and the empire that she rezides in the amount of times she collard her or almost did makes her mis ace and that said alot

(Duke kaufman looks like Kalim but acts like jamil)

A new fandom, a new set of tags. Also, with the amount of times you have requested a [character]!Reader in the Remarried Empress, I think I may need to start another Google Drive Folder.

We respect character slander here on my blog, alright? Sovieshit and Rattrash are on my hitlist.

Sovieshu is shocked that you would refuse to become one of his mistresses. Mans has never been told ‘no’ before (just wait, dude) and he doesn’t know how to take it. Since he was in a higher place of power than you, you (as calmly as you could) told him that it was against your culture’s rules to become someone’s mistress, even saying that you could be beheaded.

He tries to reassure your safety as long as you would accept, but you keep refusing. He really doesn’t know how to take a hint. Eventually, you get angry and lash out. You questioned the sheer amount of audacity he must have for asking for another mistress when he already had one as well as a wife.

Rashta and you are both enemies of each other. Of course, part of the reason is cultural differences. It was shameful to become the mistress of a reigning monarch where you’re from. The amount of times you have had to refrain from beheading her is too many to count. It really did make you miss Ace, and that was saying a lot.

Another reason is because of how she carried herself without any dignity. She always tried to take the offensive position but always ended up wailing back to Emperor Sovieshu. In front of the guy, you called her the lowest of cowards and that she should be ashamed of herself. The young mistress was shocked that her ‘husband(?)’ didn’t do anything. After all, how could he? He was still infatuated with you.

Navier asked you to become her handmaiden. You, relieved to find someone competent, accepted. She is delighted that you took so easily to the duties of one of her handmaidens. She did enjoy your conversations of what your world was like. You two get along because you tend to think logically rather than with emotions.

She takes up the ‘motherly’ role during your time here. In order to make you a tad more comfortable, she added a section of red roses to her garden just for you. In return, you offered to throw her one of the best unbirthday parties because hers was ruined in the worst way. She had to admit that it was a great celebration.

Heinrey panicked when he found out that you could understand him perfectly when he was in his bird form. You promised to cover for him, mainly because his visits as Queen made Empress Navier happy. You would offer ‘translations’ for Navier (coming up with something when she asked what Queen was saying) and explain that you were taught to understand animals.

He was grateful for you doing him this huge favor. You warned him that if he were to hurt the Empress in any way, you would have his head on a wooden platter because at that point he wouldn’t have deserved a silver one. You were very intimidating to him.

Bonus: Kosair, after meeting you, had to admit that he did fall for you. Not only were you wholeheartedly against Sovieshu, but you served Navier with your whole heart. He could tell that his beloved sister’s mood has lightened with you around.

If you will have him, he will show you places you could never imagine. He will act as your protector, make sure that you feel loved, and cherish you for as long as you will allow him to. He has the intention of marrying you one day, alright? He is not playing around.

[blushweddinggowns]

"Hey there. I'm Eddie."

If Chrissy had known back then that those four words would change her life forever, she probably would have taken the coward’s route out like her friends did. She would have turned up her nose, ignored him, and would have stayed in the safe lane of her normal life. And that would have been the end of it. 

But no, instead she had to smile at him, her eyes finally leaving the adorable girl screaming over her boyfriend losing at the claw game so she could introduce herself, "Chrissy."

It’s not like it was shocking to see him, not with Steve Harrington in the building. It was a little weirder to see him crashing a date with his obvious new girlfriend, but then again it was Eddie Munson. Weirdness kind of just came with the territory. 

Eddie grinned back at her, firmly shaking her hand before jerking his head in the direction of the claw machine, "Let's walk and talk."

Chrissy could feel her friend's eyes boring into her back. This was the moment where she was supposed to politely rebuff, maybe make it clear that she had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who was off at some summer basketball camp, but a boyfriend nonetheless. But for some reason, she didn't. 

She didn’t even look back at them, she was just too damn curious to see what he wanted. Because people like Eddie Munson didn’t talk to people like Chrissy Cunningham. Even if she always wished they would. There was just something about the guy that she always liked, a thought that she never dared to say out loud. Not unless she wanted to piss Jason, her mom, and all of her friends off in one fell swoop. 

But she couldn’t help but find him kind of charming, with his lunch table rants and no craps-given attitude. Not to mention how high school labels obviously meant nothing to him, not when he had Steve Harrington for a best friend. She admired it. Probably admired it too much. Maybe even a creepy amount, considering how often she would sneak glances at the two of them during shared classes and lunch. It was just… nice. To see two people having fun together without a care in the world. 

So she followed him, heart beating a little faster when she realized they were walking towards the silly pretty girl. 

"So, I couldn't help but notice you were looking at my friend over there," Eddie said as they went, jerking his head in their direction, “And I just figured I could help you out with that.”

"You mean Steve?" Chrissy asked, brow furrowed. It made sense that's who Eddie thought she was looking at. Everyone looked at Steve, despite the fact that he had already graduated, he was still pretty high on the list of cute guys that her friends never stopped talking about. 

But Chrissy went with it anyway, happy to take the convenient route that had been set up for her, "Um yeah. He's pretty good at the game isn't he?"

She had absolutely no idea if he was good or not. She had been too busy watching his girlfriend being adorable to really notice. 

But Eddie shook his head at her answer, frowning like she had said something disappointing, "I was actually talking about Robin."

Robin. 

So that's what her name was. Chrissy couldn’t help but think it suited her, especially when she was happy. She had seen her around school before, but never like this. All loud and smiley. She was used to seeing her with her eyes down and lips pursed in the school hallways. Always looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

Chrissy had always wanted to introduce herself, maybe become the reason that she smiled for once. But she never had the courage to actually go through with it. Besides, it wasn’t… smart for her to get close to girls like that anyway. 

Her thoughts must have shown on her face because the next thing she knew Eddie was softening. He was looking at her in a weird way, one that made her feel a little too exposed before kindly asking, "Want me to introduce you two?"

That was a bad idea. A very bad idea if the way her heart was racing was anything to go by.  

Chrissy could tell just from looking at her that this was not the kind of girl she could be friends with. Not with the way her treacherous mind worked. She only hung around girls that she didn’t particularly like for a reason. It made things simpler and made the fantasies a lot easier to swallow without the emotional connection. 

A polite No, thank you, was just on the edge of escaping when it happened. Steve had finally, actually managed to win something. And it had Robin cheering like a little kid, jumping up and down like getting a cheap stuffed elephant was the highlight of her year. 

And she looked so freaking happy and pretty and Chrissy was betraying herself before she could think better of it, "Sure."

It had been a mistake on her part. A huge freaking mistake that she was partially blaming Eddie for, but a mistake nonetheless. Because meeting Robin Buckely became an immediate problem. A massive issue that took up most of her headspace in an embarrassing amount of time.

Chrissy had basically been obsessed with her since the first, shy little Hi, she let out when Eddie introduced the two of them. And it just kept getting worse. 

Because Robin was… wonderful. Completely unlike anyone she’d ever met, girls and guys alike. She was smart, like spoke four freaking languages smart, but not intimidatingly so. No, she was too busy being sweet and funny to make Chrissy feel bad for her own lack of brains. And Robin was criminally funny. She was at her best when she was with Steve, the two of them bouncing hilarious jabs back and forth, almost always in complete sync.

It had been the shock of her life when Eddie told her they had only met that same summer. Which meant they had probably been dating for even less time. But the two of them clicked in a way that she couldn’t help but envy. And that envy was turning into some pretty venomous jealousy intensely fast. Because Steve was around all the time. It turned out that getting to know Robin didn't just mean getting to know Robin. It meant getting to know Steve. And by extension, Eddie. And oddly enough, Nancy Wheeler. Plus a strange array of nerdy soon-to-be freshmen. 

And she liked that, how close they all were. She did, despite how sick seeing Robin and Steve together made her. Because all of her friends were just as equally amazing as she was. Especially Eddie, who was a close second in terms of her favorites from the insanely welcoming group. 

Eddie, who for some crazy reason thought that Chrissy was good enough to be their friend. She wasn’t. She figured that out quick enough after realizing that she was suddenly surrounded by insanely talented people. Robin was basically perfection in a human being. Eddie had his music, Nancy had her insane brain, one that seemed to have been passed off to her brother and all of his little friends. Even Steve was unique enough in his own right, with his crazy charm and magnetic personality. But Chrissy was just… Chrissy. She was boring and she knew it. All she was good for were her looks, and even those were fading fast according to her mom. 

But the thing was, they never made her feel like she was boring. No, Robin was always interested in hearing her talk about her lame interests. Like her gardening and flower-arranging hobbies were so interesting. And Eddie actually liked the annoying way she would talk over movies. Liked it enough for them to end up having full-blown conversations that would get popcorn thrown at them, but still.

They were all so… kind. Not nice, no. Steve was way too much of a bitch for that group to ever be considered nice, but… they were loving. And they cared about each other in a real way. A real way that Chrissy wasn’t used to, but she knew she didn’t belong in it. No matter how much she loved it. 

This whole soiree of spending time with people she actually liked had a time limit. She would have to get back to her old life eventually, probably with some groveling added to make up for completely ignoring her friend group to hang around the resident freaks. Jason would be back for the first day of school soon enough, and she knew without a doubt that he would be pissed if he ever heard about what she had been up to during the month he was gone. 

And she couldn’t even blame him. Who wouldn’t? No boy would like having some other dude all over their girlfriend, even if it wasn’t like that. And Eddie had undoubtedly been the sole reason she ever even had access to these people. Just because she had been blessed with catching his eye. She had thought that something would have happened with him by now, whether that be flirting or a failed kiss attempt. Because why else would Eddie hang around someone like her if not to try and get into her pants? 

But it wasn’t like that. It just… wasn’t it? He never made a move on her. He never even did anything that was close to trying, and neither did the spoken for Steve. They just treated her like… her. Not something to be won, just their friend. If anything, Eddie was like a brother to her, in a startlingly small amount of time. 

And she was really, really going to miss that. But she couldn’t keep this up forever. She was already struggling to keep her mom from knowing about them, with varying levels of success. The one time she had actually met Eddie was enough to make Chrissy want to die of mortification. She had treated him so… terribly. It made her feel ill remembering it. And that was with her mom being disinterested in her life. Summer had always been a welcome break from her mom’s iron thumb. She just had a harder time caring about Chrissy when there were no events for her to be at, no titles to be won, and no outside people to impress.

But now with school going back into session, she was going to be extra vigilant to be sure that her daughter was at her best and prettiest. And that included monitoring who she was friends with. Her mom was back on the ball, spending the last few days before the start of the school year constantly reminding Chrissy of the rules:

Never weigh more than 110 pounds. Weigh yourself daily to keep up with body changes.

Write down everything you eat. No expectations. Calories should stay within 1200, no ifs, ands, or buts.

Never leave the house without make-up, or better yet, never leave without your make-up being checked. 

If you end up overeating, fix it quietly. No one wants to hear the head cheerleader making unseemingly noises. 

Chrissy had spent the last two years following them to a T. She really didn’t need the reminders. But she got them nonetheless. And at least there was one positive of her new friendships effectively ending, she wouldn’t have to deal with the foodstuff anymore. Because as much as she loved Eddie she couldn’t get past the fact that he liked to cook. And then share what he made with all of his friends. All the time. And he was good at it, too good, and Chrissy didn’t need a scale to know she gained weight since the short time of meeting him. 

And she couldn’t do what she needed to do with them all around. She didn’t want them to know. She couldn’t let them know. Especially not Robin. She didn’t… she didn’t want her to know how gross she really was. How she didn’t even have the self-control needed to keep her figure, she had to cheat instead. Especially since Robin was so stupidly attractive. All without even trying. She was… naturally beautiful. In some dumb fae-creature kind of way that Chrissy couldn’t stop thinking about. 

Maybe that would be another benefit of not talking to them anymore. Maybe then Chrissy could go a night without thinking about her. Without thinking… bad things about her. Shameful things that she didn’t have the self-control to not think about it, or worse, actually act on. But there she was, being dirty and thinking of her new friend while she had a hand between her legs, thoughts full of Robin’s long fingers and the pretty shape of her lips.

Yeah. Some distance would probably be a good thing. But that didn’t stop Chrissy from wanting to cry when the first day of school came. An urge that just got worse and worse as the day went on.

But she held it together. She did everything she was supposed to. Her mom checked her face and outfit before she left, with a passing grade. Though not without comment that her foundation shade was the slightest bit off. Then Jason picked her up, they kissed, she acted excited that he was back, then felt immediately guilty that she wasn’t. But she didn’t let any of it show on her face, she was better at that by now.

And part of her did miss him. Jason was a sweet guy. The sweetest of the ones her mom approved of. And he was cute and respectful, never trying to push Chrissy past her limits. And making out with him wasn’t… terrible. It was better than her last boyfriend at least. She didn’t hate it, so that was a plus. And yeah, maybe he was a little bland but so was Chrissy. 

She didn’t exactly have room to talk. Plus, he loved her, for some reason. And she really wanted to love him back. And if she just kept working on it, she knew that one day she would. Right?

She really hoped so.

from the newest chapter of this fic

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey dear! could i get a imagine/ oneshot Daemon x poc fem!reader. Where they are married and have a very good relationship, but one day the reader ends up doing something (she has a good reason for it) that hurts him deeply (no cheating, please) So she recognizes that she made a mistake and tries to fix their relationship (which she can) and if you could use that phrase "I want to hate you but I can't" somewhere I would be extremely grateful. With angst, but happy ending please?+

Alliance Of Thorns

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You were both drawn to each other because of how similarly thorny you were in nature. However, it was truly not your intention to hurt you husband when you did what you did recently.

Word Count: >500

Warnings: wife!reader, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i added the second part of your ask below the gif cos again i wanna see daemons face when i get notes i hope you like it nonnie Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony

"Husband," I called, alerting Caraxes from his side.

The sound of my walking over is drowned out by the huffs of the dragon in the pit. Daemon turns to me as his ride pushes past him, stalking towards me in excitement.

My gaze is fixed on Daemon, uninterested by Caraxes advances. He scolds his dragon and commands him to stop before he can get close to me. Caraxes obeys, although he shakes his head and whines in protest.

Daemon walks over, eyes not leaving me as he raises his hand to Caraxes, making him lower his head. The prince reaches out to me. I take his hand. I walk over to his mount and Daemon places my palms on his snout.

Daemon says something in High Valyrian, which Caraxes responds with a soft growl and huff.

Both our hands are pressed on Caraxes face, but my usual affections for the dragon are overshadowed by my worry toward his rider. I turn to Daemon, finding that he is idly looking out to his ride. "My love," I place my hand on his, "please... forgive me."

The prince clenches his jaw, slowly turning to me. He pushes Caraxes firmly away, commanding him to go back to his cave. Caraxes huffs and whines, lifting his head up as he follows his riders command.

I watch Daemon as he watches Caraxes walk off, "there is nothing to forgive."

I knit my brows, stepping forward, "Daemon, please."

"There is nothing to forgive!" he says louder, turning to me, grabbing my arms.

I still, looking at him with a guilty expression. He roughly pulls me close to him, one hand darting to my cheek. He pushes my head back, making me lift my face to him. He repeats one more, this time softer, under his breath, "there is nothing to forgive," he traces my lips with his thumb, "I was never cross with you in the first place."

My lips part at his admission. My hands reach out to his top, pulling at his tunic, "but I ruined your treaty wit-"

"An excuse spewed by a coward. Nothing was ruined," Daemon cuts, brows tightening. He brings both of his hands on my jaw and rubs the skin up and down to my neck. His gaze falls to nowhere, "they dared scorn me in the name of my wife."

I furrow my brows at the sight of him. I pull him closer to me as he begins to heave, anger rising up to his features.

"Daemon."

He does not turn to me.

"I beg of you," I mutter, "tell me how I can make this right."

His eyes dart to me, his hands rest on my neck, "you've done enough."

My chest constricts. His hands withdraw from me to pry my grip off him.

I feel like an abandoned pup when he begins to walk away.

I make haste and grab his arm, "you told me you were not cross."

"I am not!" he quips, turning to me, making me freeze like a deer caught by a hunter, pulse racing in dread and fear.

Daemon's face hardens. He takes my wrist and pulls my hand off him, dropping it as he faces his body to me, "you could lay waste to all the realms, destroy all that I am, and I would not hold it against you, my cunning wife."

He steps forward, gripping my shoulders, "but understand that if you stand in my way again, you are allowing my enemies to destroy me."

A chill runs down my spine when he pulls away and heads out of the dragon pit.

[cjsoleil]

Taking My Time On My Ride (Changbin x Reader)

Summary: Neither Changbin or Y/N thought they would meet their soulmates on a roller coaster, but they’re glad they did.

Authors note: This short work is inspired by my friend’s love for Changbin, my fear of roller coasters and that one skz code episode. @bbchangbinnie24

When Wooyoung suggested that Yeonjun and him should go to an amusement park together, Changbin thought nothing of it. Spending time with the two boys is fun. All until Yeonjun pointed towards the biggest roller coaster at the park.

“Yeah let’s go.” Wooyoung agrees enthusiastically and Yeonjun looks to the other with them.

“Will you be okay Changbin?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The two stare at him.

“Oh I don’t know.” Wooyoung shrugs, “Maybe because you get scared.”

“I do not.” He protested, shaking his head. He isn’t scared, he just doesn’t love roller coasters.

“Right.” Yeonjun says, “Let’s get in line then.” Changbin was most definitely not dreading going on the ride.

‘I hate them.’ Y/N thinks as she sits down in the seat in front of her friends. She’s with two other people, and each seat of the roller coaster only fits two people. Unfortunately, she’s the one left alone.

“Sorry Y/N.” The girl doesn’t turn around, but does hold up her middle finger to the two. They only laugh in response. How dare they leave her by herself when she didn’t even want to go on the ride in the first place. More people are loaded onto the ride, and Y/N isn’t surprised when someone is told to sit next to her.

What is surprising is how gorgeous the man who’s sitting next to her is. He has super muscular arms, and a cute soft face to contrast. Really, the best looking person she’s ever been physically close to.

Catching her staring, he smiles at her.

“Hi.” He says and her eyes widen.

“Hi.” Y/N looks away for a few seconds before she starts to speak, “Let me guess, odd one out?”

“Yep.” The man laughs, and gestures to the cart in front of them.

“Me too.” And Y/N changed her mind, she loves her friends for leaving her by herself.

“Just so you know, I’m terrified. So sorry in advance if I scream so loud it deafens you.” The man grins at her.

“I won’t be much better. Why are you here if you're terrified?”

“My friends paid me to not be a coward.”

“Good reason.” The bar that keeps them secure is brought down, signaling the ride will start soon.

Unconsciously, Y/N wraps her arm around the man’s muscular one before realizing what she’s even doing.

“Oh- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He lifts and playfully flexes his arm, “Hold onto me.”

“Really?”

“If it brings you any comfort, go for it.” Y/N smiles and wraps her arm back around the man’s. She feels him flex against her arm.

“I got you.” Before she can respond, the ride starts to move. Both of them grab onto the bar tightly as they start to move across the track.

‘Oh my god oh my god-‘ Y/N repeats in her mind as they start to go up. The part she’s been dreading, a drop. ‘I’m gonna die, die next to a pretty man who I don’t know the name of.’

“My name’s Changbin.” The man next to her shouts, making Y/N jerk her head towards him.

“Fuck I said that outloud!” She exclaims and speaks so fast Changbin just barely made it out, “Hi Changbin, My name is Y/N. Nice to-“ her words are cut off with both their screams as they go off the edge of the tallest part of the ride. She almost doesn’t register the feeling of Changbin’s arm tightening around her own.

“I hate this!” He yells next to her as the ride slows down slightly, “I hate this!” She turns to look at him and sees a few tears streaming down his face. If she was less petrified, it would have been funny to see such a strong guy cry because of a rollercoaster.

“Oh you’re crying.” She tells him, gasping for air.

“You are too.” The ride starts to speed up again and they both scream, “I can’t do this!”

When the ride is finally over, the two are quick to get out and onto the ground again. Both have seemingly forgotten about the existence of their friends.

“That was horrible.” Y/N pants out, looking at Changbin. He’s shorter than she thought he would be. ‘Cute’ she thinks as she wipes the tears off her face.

“Wasn’t even scary.” Changbin comments as he wipes his own.

“Oh yeah, you were really stoic out there. With the screaming and crying.” She gestures to her arm, “I think you squeezed me so tightly I bruised.”

“I’m sorry-“

“No no, I’m just kidding.” Y/N looks away from him for a second, blood rushing to her face, “Thank you, for letting me know hold onto you. And keeping me company.” The man smiles sweetly and hesitantly lifts his hand. When he sees Y/N nod slightly, he pats her hair down, fixing it.

“No problem.” Changbin smiles, “You’re pretty too.”

“What?” Y/N feels her face get warmer, to the tips of her ears.

“On the ride, you said I was pretty. You’re very pretty too.” He says bashfully, looking over to the side and seeing Yeonjun and Wooyoung staring at him.

“I should probably-“ “Do you want to-“ They start at the same time before stopping.

“You go first.” Changbin insists.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to get, um, ice cream or something with me? But you go with your friends.” The man hums.

“You said you're here with your friends too. They won’t mind me stealing you away?” The girl looks to her friends, seeing them staring at her and making shooing motions.

“…Trust me. Me being with a guy is probably the most entertaining thing that’s happened all month for them.” She looks back at Changbin, “Will yours?”

“Please. They’d be mad if I didn’t go with a pretty girl.” He winks, “You said ice cream?”

“Ah yes. The way to a man’s heart is the stomach. We can go on a ride that’s more our speed too. Carousel?”

“Sure. You want to hold my arm again?” He teases, and she’d be lying if she said no.

“Maybe later.”

Exactly three years later, the two find themselves at the same park. On the same ride where they met, waiting to move.

“Are you going to cry again, Binnie?”

“That never happened. I can distinctly remember you sobbing and hugging my arm like a stuffed animal though.” Y/N flicks his cheek and kisses it after he whines.

“Liar.” The bar is brought down and Y/N taps her fingers on it.

“We haven’t been here in a while. Think it will be less horrible.” Changbin nods, grabbing her hand.

“Yeah. We have grown and this ride will not scare us. Not that it was scary the first time.”

“Oh okay tough guy.” Y/N laughs and lets go of his hand, “You’ll let me hold onto you?”

“Anytime babe.”

“Oh my god no!” Y/N screams as they speed up.

“It’s worse, how is it worse!” Changbin yells.

“Bin if i die know i love you!”

“I love you too!” It isn’t until the ride slows for the cart to go up. Changbin takes a deep breath in before saying,

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Changbin gulps and she looks to see the tears in his eyes.

“I knew you would cry-“

“Will you marry me?” Y/N eyes widen.

“What-“ They go over the edge, and they both scream out.

“What!”

“Marry me Y/N!” Changbin yells again as they speed up, “Be my wife!”

“Yes!” Y/N cries out right before the ride slows down. In a minute the get off and on the ground Changbin kisses her harshly before pulling away and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Seriously? You’ll marry me?”

“Of course I will. I love you more than anything. ” Y/N hugs Changbin close.

“I love you too. I’m so happy.” He cups her face, wiping the tears on her face, “Sorry, it wasn’t that romantic. I didn’t plan on proposing like that. I was going to do it at home, at the end of the day. But I guess I couldn’t wait”

“Wasn’t romantic?” Y/N repeats tilting her head, “We met on this ride years ago today. It’s where our relationship started. Sounds romantic to me. Not traditional, sure, but I like being unique.” Y/N leans forward and kisses the man’s lips softly, then his slightly damp cheek.

“Tears of happiness right?” Changbin scoffs.

“Why else would I be crying?” Y/N laughs, and pats his face lovingly.

“No other reason. Let’s go home, celebrate our engagement.“ She feels giddy just saying the word.

“Actually I kind of want to go on the ride again.” He jokes, but doesn’t laugh when he sees the expression Y/N is making.

“Really?” She leans in, whispering in Changbin’s ear, “Because I know a ride I would rather go on.” She taps her index finger against his bottom lip, and it makes his heart beat even faster than it was on the actual roller coaster.”

“Let’s go!” Changbin exclaims and Y/N grabs his arm so he can pull his fiancé along.

“Should we get married here too?” He teases, and his laugh could probably be heard from across the country when she frantically shakes her head.

“God no.”

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Out of interest for his wife, we invited [Desmoulins] to stop writing [Le Vieux Cordelier], telling him that he was running the greatest dangers, and that, not being able to dip my pen in blood, I was going to stop writing my journal, Révolutions de Paris. He answered me: “What are you going to do? Maybe you will write our crimes.” Which, indeed, I did. His wife arrived; he told her the subject of my approach against him. She said: “My husband would be a coward to stop his Vieux Cordelier at a time when tyranny has no limits!” “Well, I am sorry, madame,” I said to her, to predict that you yourself will be one of the victims; those who govern respect neither beauty nor kindness.” Leaving her house, I ran to her mother to tell her my fears for her daughter and son-in-law. This lady admitted to me that she could not see without pain the stubbornness of her daughter, and the influence she had over her husband, who had much less character than her.

Biographie universelle et historique des femmes célèbres mortes ou vivantes (1830) by Louis-Marie Prudhomme, volume 2, page 273-274. Prudhomme gets in a huge load of errors throughout the rest of the article (Lucile’s first name, date of birth, marriage and death, the circumstances regarding her arrest as well as Saint-Just attending Louis-le-Grand with Desmoulins and being one of their wedding witnesses) but seeing as he claims it is from he himself this anecdote originates I’m willing to give it a bit more credibility. It also fits nicely with this other anecdote, reported by both Marcellin Matton (in 1834) and Nicolas Villiaume (in 1851) who in their turn had acquired it from Lucile’s mother:

[Guillaume] Brune, afraid of the danger that Camille, his former college friend [sic], was running, came to find him and begged him, for the interest that true republicans had in him, for the love of his parents, for the tenderness of his wife, not to not further irritate the enemies that his satirical and biting wit had made him, to show more moderation in the picture he painted of the misfortunes of the times, and even to cease the publication of his Vieux Cordelier. Camille, who had initially only responded with jokes, began to justify his behavior, as beautiful as it was angry, with reasons to which it was not easy to answer.

”I admit it to you,” Brune said to him, ”I cannot help but admire you; However, be certain that with more moderation you will do real good, while by continuing you give yourself up, you immolate yourself, you lose yourself and you save nothing.”

”Do you believe,” he then replied, ”that they will dare to attack me, declare me a traitor, me and my Vieux Cordelier, and that for having requested a committee of clemency and justice; for wanting to complete and consolidate the work of our revolution? I have all of France om my side. Desenne (that was the name of his bookseller) cannot suffice for the sale of my issues. I am read, heard everywhere.”

”You are also read by Barère who recognizes himself; by Saint-Just, who promised to make you carry your head like Saint Denis.” 

”That’s true,” he replied, ”I remember it: it was a very bad joke, and my answer was much better. Have you seen my letter to Dillon? In the approach and posture of Saint-Just, we see that he regards his head as the cornerstone of the republic, and that he carries it on his shoulders with respect like a holy sacrament. Was I wrong, and do you think that for such a good joke he would want to kill me? I only ask him for one favor, and that is to wait until he has given a valid response.”

Madame Desmoulins had invited Brune to family dinner, it was served and they sat down at the table. Camille, gradually warming up, explained to him the bright future he was preparing for his homeland.

”Believe me,” he said to him, ”I am the man of the revolution. When it was necessary, I risked my life for her at the Palais-Royal. At that time they also wanted to make me worry, like you are doing today; but the nation walked with me, and I was at peace. I am still sure, with my Vieux Cordelier, to lead her in my footsteps, to respond to her wishes, to her needs; public opinion will still be my strength.”

”And if it gives your enemies time to strike you?”

”I have ready friends. Have you not heard the eloquent voice of Philippeaux? Danton sleeps: it is the lion's sleep; but he will wake up to defend my cause.”

His friend was far from convinced and repeated the same prayers to him; but Lucille, who at first had shown herself to be very sensitive to Brune's worries and fears, now shares all of Camille's enthusiasm; she notices that this interview has made him hot, she immediately puts a handkerchief on his forehead; gives him a kiss on the cheek and cries: “Let him do it, Brune, let him do it, he must save his country; let him fulfill his mission.” Then she pours her husband and Brune an exquisite chocolate with enchanting grace. When the chocolate had been served, Camille said: edamus et bibamus cras enim muriemur (let us eat and drink for tomorrow we die); while pronouncing these words of death, he affected an air of gaiety and took his child, his little Horace, on his knees. Camille had only supported his thesis because of his wife, whom he did not want to sadden for anything in the world.

[ravenadottir]

i started playing season 6, and i've got shit to say for the half of dozen people that are still following me in this cobweb infested blog (i apologize, i'll be explaining what's happening on a different post)

i'm only on day 2 of the season, right when it's announced that roberto is coming (which is so disappointing to me that he isn't brazilian but portuguese, like... WHEN ARE WE GETTING A GOOD BRAZILIAN CHARACTER????)

anyway, here are my thoughts:

WRITING:

i actually didn't see much of a problem with it so far. it feels on par with similar conversations we had in the past, except this time we're getting to know them a little deeper than, say, season 3.

knowing bella's family situation or roberto's is kind of refreshing because we barely learned bobby had a sister on a throwaway scene on s2, so... yeah, it's ok.

i like how they express themselves because as an litg player, i'm used to some eloquence, but as someone who sometimes watches the show i HAVE to suspend my disbelief since i know islanders from the show are just... NOT GOOD AT EXPRESSING THEMSELVES, to say the least.

i like the conversations we had so far, it felt fluid and fun, but then again i've only coupled up with jamal, because obviousoly i did, who would i go for, fucking ryan? WAKE UP.

the challenges piled up but because of how many dialogues we had in this little time i think it worked pretty well.

CHARACTERS:

grace - girl, it's been a day and ozzy is not even that hot. HAVE YOU SEEN YOURSELF? he's punching, not you. chill. (and i hate they're giving the intensity they gave hope here, feels bitterly familiar and they better fucking knock it off).

bella - FINALLY a girl i like who's available and slutty (affectionate) since the beginning. i absolutely think bella might be right there with talia when it comes to arc as an LI, but we'll see. if anyone dares stealing her or if fusebox even make the slight suggestion of a slowburn i'm burning their HQ idc

ivy - alright i see you bootleg marisol, but i don't give a shit, you're annoying, die in a hole.

amelia - i think she's putting a front and deflecting the negative attention to ivy but that's just me. also, the twist of the public choosing who she should couple up with before she could tell us is extremely dumb and unnecessary, but also a reason for her to say a different name later, maintaining her image of good sister. i don't trust her, i WILL step on her head to the finale, die in a pit you're also annoying.

jamal - i like the attention but everything with moderation gives me way more tingles than a crybaby that can't stop talking about how he wants to be with me again. we were coupled up for a few hours and only had one conversation, chill bitch. it's giving ted mosby and every himym fan knows how bad that is. i'm not sure if every guy that the public chooses to be with amelia on night 1 acts the same, but i'm slightly turned off. it's too much boy, calm down, i'm here to be a slut, calm down.

ryan - get a haircut or let it grow because looking twelve and the coolest lesbian at the same time is not the look for you. its giving hipster with a chemistry kit at the local café.. also, either you're the douchey musician or a bad poet, you can't be both, PICK A STRUGGLE.

lewie - the impersonation of being stuck in traffic. i don't care for you, die in the same hole as ivy and amelia.

ozzy - fucking pulling the noah, man. i've seen this before and i'm not interested. stop being such a coward and tell grace how you feel. i know for a fact you're gonna be drama and it's because you refuse to be honest. it's so embarrassing, bestie.

roberto - HOT. i only saw the preview but i'm excited.

PACING

it's great. i think it was kind of weird how fast and furious it was with some previous seasons (remember the last season i played was 3 and half of 4 {it was soooo tedious i gave up half way through}) but i think so far it's ok. it definitely has better cliffhangers than other times when they thought they tried their darnedest.

OBSERVATIONS WITH SCREENSHOTS:

there's no fucking way they thought these were worth diamonds. and 22 diamonds for that frufru purple shit??? it looks like something who doesn't sew would put together with a hot glue gun, stop.

ivy i might kill you like they kill one of those vampires at the end of the twilight saga, by opening your mouth so wide it cracks off your skull. SHUT - UP.

and amelia... you're irrelevant, get out.

BUDDY, YOU'RE THE MOUTHPIECE OF THE GROUP NOW, HOLY SHIT. grace has me on my knees, i can't.-

bitch, we did! i kissed you in the challenge. EXCUSE YOUR BEAUTIFUL SELF! (also, for the breasts appreciators, i feel you, boobs are great, really! but like, those... two... lines... coming out of the bikini???? yeah, that is actually what gets me. you didn't need to know but i told you anyway, because i'm happy bella is hot and cool and i don't know how to shut up when i'm love, leave me alone!) whoever designed her knew EXACTLY what they were doing.

I LOVE GRACE. I JUST DO.

i'll give ryan some cool points because 1, he burned ivy in front of everyone, and 2, he admitted and owned up to it. good for you, bestie, good luck when you take a trip to the hair salon and get rid of that... hair. also, STOP SKIPPING LEG DAY BUDDY. from the waist up it's giving "abs, hot, i go to the gym", from the waist down is giving "i'm twelve and there's a reason i go to the beach in pants".

bella and grace looking naked and glamorous but feeling threatened by this ugly ass dress is the funniest joke in the writing so far. truly. i've had mermaid costumes at 4 years of age less embarrassing than this atrocity. stop lying, bella and grace, YOU'RE BOTH NAKED AND PERFECT.

and that's what i have to say so far. i'll continue playing this season until they inevitably fuck up. i'm not being pessimistic, i'm just... well, i guess i am. but i have no reason to believe otherwise.

also, i keep forgetting ozzy is here even though it's been a day. idk why.

anyways, i'll come back with more litg brain rot in a bit.

[blushing-blushy]

SPOILERS FOR THE DARK URGE

Astarion x Durge Tav (unnamed female character - referred to as she)

Freaking huge spoilers for the Dark Urge storyline. As in I lay it all out. I wrote this thinking about what Tav's reaction might be to learning the truth, because it doesn't get into it much in game.

Oh and this is one sad sad sad hurt/ barely any comfort fic.

-.-.-.-

The dead things we carry

After Tav finds out what she is, she tries the easy way out. Astarion won't let her.

The sounds of blood spilling and bones cracking and the screams of pain and rage begin to fade around her.

“Don’t bring me back,” she gasps with her last breath, watching the horror and dawning fury on Astarion’s face before her vision blurs and fades away. Please, is the last thought that comes from her wrecked mind. Please.

-.-.-.-.-

She comes to. She comes to. At first there is nothing but confusion. It’s not like it’s the first time she’s been revived. But it takes longer for her to gather her thoughts, and when she at last realizes that she’s capable of thought and reason, anger and despair flood through her, perhaps a mirror of the last glimpse of Astarion’s face.

She snaps her eyes open and sits up. She can sit up, she realizes as well, since revivify heals as well as enlivens. And speak of the devil, but if it isn’t Astarion sitting on a chair next to her, eyes on her. There is no expression on his face. He’s just… watching.

A flush of anger is rising up her body, spreading like fire through her limbs, nerves singing with betrayal. She had asked.

“How dare you,” she whispers tightly. “How dare you bring me back. I asked-”

“Yes, you did.” Astarion’s voice is toneless, and she thinks she’s never seen him so closed off. No smirk, no attitude at all.

"And I brought you back anyway. Will you hate me? Leave forever? Make it so that you might have died anyway?”

She just looks at him, and he gazes back. Finally she drops her eyes and notices his hands hanging between his knees. They’re bloody, as if he’s been hitting something. There’s blood around his fingernails, the skin torn around the nails as though he’s been biting them.

“Why?” He asks simply, and she looks back up at him. “I’ve done my hating for tonight. I’ve done my raging and my yelling and my fear and the rest of it all. So now I’m only left wondering. Why? That certainly wasn’t a split second decision, was it?”

She sighs and lays back down, the anger ebbing away. Well, it would have been a conversation they would have needed to have anyway. Death had just been the easy way out. The coward’s way.

“You know what’s been happening to me,” she says and waits for him to nod before continuing. “Well, I know why now. I… remembered. And when I tell you, you will understand. Maybe you’ll let me die next time. Maybe you’ll kill me yourself. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised.”

There’s finally an expression on his face. Abject fear. Fear of what she’s about to say. She laughs weakly.

“Yeah, it’s bad.” She takes a breath and plunges ahead. “I am the one who orchestrated all of this. I planned the cult and created the Absolute. I brought the Dead Three’s Chosen together to control it. I am the scion of the god of murder, Bhaal. Bhaalspawn. I was plucked from my home seven years ago and became murder incarnate, sacrificing and killing without purpose or plan simply to appease him. And because I wanted to. My earlier life is still murky, but I think I was sired by Bhaal to a Tiefling woman whom he discarded, and I was born to her. She cut off my horns and tail and tried to make me as human as possible to keep me from the life I eventually found.

“When I killed a man who was raping me, she left me. She must have seen that I enjoyed it far more than I should have for simple self-defense. Then I found my way… home. To the temple. And took control. And would have the whole world worship as I made my way through it, ending everything in the name of my dread father.

“So, in the end, this is all because of me. And my hubris, my blood-thirsty desire to kill. To kill everyone and everything.”

She’s crying, but she can’t feel the tears sliding down her face. All she can focus on is the pattern of threads on the tent above her.

“Astarion,” she says at last, turning to face him. She can’t begin to parse out what he’s thinking. “You did all those terrible things because you were forced to. Because you were literally incapable of not doing them, and because of what would happen if you didn’t.”

She looks away and sighs again. “But I did all those terrible things because I wanted to.”

After a beat of silence, she sits up, letting the thick blanket pool in her lap. Her fingers lay limply upon it. She’s so, so tired. “So you see why I don’t want to live. I don’t deserve to. I can’t ever make penance for what I did. And since the urges and raging desire has started to rear it’s awful head again, I don’t even know if I could resist long enough to even try to make up for it. It is honestly the best and most sensible thing to let me die or kill me. Now do you understand?”

She can’t look at him now. Can’t face the judgement on his face.

She’s not even surprised when he stands and leaves. Laying back down, she closes her eyes and lets the tears come. Maybe later she can go off and do it herself. Far enough away no one could find her body.

The tent flaps open again and Astarion comes back in. She sits back up at once, brows furrowing. He’s holding a water jug and one of those chipped clay mugs Karlach had found.

There are tear tracks on his face and he looks utterly heart-broken. Of course. He fell in love with a monster. More of a monster than he would ever imagine himself to be.

“Drink,” he says roughly, holding out the mug.

She takes it automatically and sips it, still looking at him. He closes his eyes as more tears fall, and wipes them away angrily.

As she opens her mouth to continue, he holds up a hand. “No, my turn now. And you will sit and listen, my dear. You owe me enough to allow me to answer and have something to say.”

She sits back and nods, waiting. Her heart is hammering in her chest. She doesn’t know if she can handle his reaction, whatever it’s going to be.

“I have been tortured for more of my lifetimes than I can count. I have been flayed and broken and scarred again and again in that place. You saw, you read. I was almost always out of my mind with fear. Every time I went out to bring someone back. Everytime I did or said something I knew would bring me impossible pain. But I have never, ever-” his voice chokes up against the words, and he scrubs his eyes quickly and clears his throat. “Ever,” he continues,” been so frightened as I was when you died. And when you asked me not to…”

He leans forward and grabs her hands roughly, squeezing them hard enough she can feel her bones grinding together.

“You asked me to kill you,” he whispers. “‘Don’t bring me back.’ That means let you die. That means that I have the option to do so and wouldn’t. That means killing you. And you’re as good as asking me to do the same now. Kill you?”

He lets go and stands abruptly, pulling wildly at his hair. “Kill you?” He repeats, his voice becoming shrill. “I love you, godsdammit. I have for much longer than I care to admit. Than I could allow myself to realize. And you want me to end you, to do that to you, to myself? I’ll be selfish until the sun burns out and make sure you never die. You can’t die.”

He’s shouting now, and she wants to shush him in case everyone else hears, but she’s too tired to really care.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers instead. No more tears will come. She’s been scoured clean.

Astarion drops to his knees beside her bed, reaching for her hand again. She lets him take it and he grips it, gently this time.

“I won’t do it,” he says softly, but the resolve in his voice is steel. “And you can’t make me. And if I have to tie you up forever to make sure you don’t - you don’t… end it yourself, I will. That’s a threat, my dear.”

She can’t say anything. Not to that and not when he lifts her hand and turns it to press a featherlight kiss to her palm.

“Ok.” Her voice is small, barely there. “Then what do I do? Please tell me what to do. I don’t want to die.”

The admission comes from so deep down it wrenches out of her, and she wails. “I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to.” She’s sobbing loudly, great shuddering cries, and the pain is too much to bear. Astarion bends over her as she curls into a fetal position, cradling her in his arms.

“We’ll deal with this,” he says, gently shushing her. “We’ll figure it out. He won’t have you. He won’t win. I told you that, and I meant it. Hells, darling, if you could make a dead heart come back to life, you can defeat this.”

“How?”

He kisses the top of her head gently from where she’s still curled. “I don’t know, but you aren’t alone. And we will. I promise.”

I love you.

I love you.

[blodgmonster]

PART 2 of my Kingdom of Ash reread commentary that no one but Lindsey reads lol.

-- shit, I forgot that Kaltain has a cameo in this one.

-- Lysandra shifting into a horse and letting a dying boy onto her back, where he dies and freezes to her. God, what a powerful image. And Aedion is STILL being a dick to her. Kicking her out barefoot and naked into the snow. What happened to the Aedion I knew and loved? I know in the end they get back together but if I were Lysandra I don't think there is any way that I could EVER forgive him for treating me like that. Get with Ren, sweetheart, at least he's kind to you. Aedion:

-- "'I'm so tired, Rowan.' His heart strained again. 'I know, Fireheart.' "

-- I forgot that Aelin gives Lorcan the blood oath. Hahaha ha even HE gets the oath before Aedion.

-- they're using wyvern with clipped wings to drag the siege towers and I hate that so much. How dare you clip the wings that you gave them? Poor darlings.

-- hell yeah, the calvary is here!

-- Lysandra poses as Aelin in order to reform the lines. "Her scream as poisoned talons ripped through her thigh sounded above the din of the battle. She went down, shield rising to cover herself. He took it back. He took back everything he had said to her, every moment of anger in his heart." ... "Useless. He'd called her useless. Had thrown her into the snow naked. He took it back."... " She held her ground. Did not yield one inch to the ilken, who advanced another step. For Terrasen, she would do this. For Aelin. He took it back. He took it all back." LYSANDRA IS A QUEEN, A VIP, A GODDESS AND YOU DON'T DESERVE HER, YOU CALLOUS FUCK. Aedion needs to spend the rest of his gods forsaken life attoning for how crappy he treated my girl..

-- "A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own." The female friendships in this series are really where it's at. Aelin and Lysandra. Aelin and Elide. Aelin and Yrene. Aelin and Ansel. Aelin and Manon. Aelin and Nehemia. Aelin and Nersyn. Elide and Manon. Manon and the Thirteen. Nesryn and Borte. Nesyrn and Yrene. Yrene and Hasar. I'm probably missing a few. But they're so good and I think one of the reasons I like ToG better than ACOTAR. Let's name the female friendships in the ACOTAR series, shall we. Feyre and Alis. Feyre and Mor. Nesta and the Valkyeries. Elain and those two wraiths. Is anyone REALLY friends with Amren? Mor and Vivianne. The Archeron sisters love each other but it would be a stretch to call them friends. And that's it. Some of those friendships are not explored. And the friendships, with the exception of Nesta and the Valkyeries, don't really impact the plot. In ToG these friendships are absolutely VITAL to the plot.

-- Fenrys Moonbeam, you absolute legend.

-- "I am so, so tired, Rowan." Gods, give Aelin a fucking break.

-- SJM says so and so's "brows narrowed" a lot and I think she means furrowed?? I can't make my eyebrows get narrower....without plucking.

-- "I have NEVER felt as humiliated as I did when you threw me in the snow. When you called me a lying bitch in front of our allies. NEVER....I was once forced to crawl before men. And gods above, I nearly crawled for you these months. And yet it takes me nearly dying for you to realize you've been an ass? It takes me nearly dying for you to see me as human again?" GET HIM, LYSANDRA!! DRAG HIM TO FILTH!!!

-- Dorian trying out being a woman and considering slipping into a tent to rub one out. Dude. Focus.

-- Manon drawing a line in the snow, holding the line against the High Witches. Reminds me of Nesta holding the line against the Illyrians to give her friends time to get to the summit. My GIRLS.

-- Her grandmother fleeing, fucking coward.

-- MANON BLACKBEAK CROCHAN, QUEEN OF WITCHES!!!!

-- Aelin rocking up to battle in golden armor. Fuck yeah!!!!!

Halfway through the book. Part 3 coming soon.

[stardustprompts]

doctor sleep  -  stephen king  sentence starters  change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying     tw ;   death ,  language ,  alcohol ,  violence

‘how did it make you feel, to know you weren’t alone anymore?’

‘how did it make you feel, to know you weren’t alone anymore? to know you weren’t the only one?’

‘the world has a way of keeping things in balance. I believe that.’

‘there’s a saying: when the pupil is ready, the teacher will appear. I was your teacher.’

‘you are my friend. you saved us.’

‘someday it will be your turn to be the teacher. the pupil will come.’

‘shut your mouth and open your ears. I think you’ll get the point. you’re far from stupid.’

‘you saved me. you brought me back.’

‘we’re all dying. the world’s just a hospice with fresh air.’

‘I need help.’

‘you’re sick and you’re tired, I can see that much.’

‘you’re sick and you’re tired, I can see that much. but are you sick and tired of being sick and tired?’

‘you’re one of the very few people who will ever get to see that. it’s embarrassing.’

‘i’m pretty scared. I didn’t think I would be, but I am.’

‘i’m scared there’s nothing. there was nothing before, we all know that, so doesn’t it stand to reason there’s nothing after?’

‘we never really end. I don’t know how that can be , or what it means, I only know that it is.’

‘who died and left you in charge?’

‘we all have a bottom. someday you’re going to have to tell somebody about yours.’

‘i’m the one who owes you, and more than I could ever repay.’

‘you’re not scared, are you? you don’t have to be. it’s over.’

‘i’m okay. really. I’m just glad to not be alone with this inside my head.’

‘i’m sorry. i’m a little on edge, alright?’

‘you don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.’

‘nobody loves a smartass.’

‘you’d be surprised what a person can live with.’

‘get out of here, idiot. but give me another kiss first.’

‘I thought I’d feel better after a night’s sleep, but I didn’t get much.’

‘you’re as white as a sheet.’

‘fucking men. have to win, don’t you? always have to win.’

‘you know we can’t entirely trust (name) anymore, but I trust you. what’s your gut feeling?’

‘I don’t know how convincing I can be when I hardly believe it myself.’

‘I can’t believe this is happening.’

‘are we going to have a reasonable conversation, or—’

‘you wouldn’t dare. a coward like you would never dare.’

‘of course, if you take me up on it, I’ll wipe the floor with you.’

‘if you run, I’ll find you. and when I do, you’ll scream for hours before you die.’

‘if I were you, I’d run.’

‘if I were you, I’d run. it wouldn’t do you any good, but you’d live a little longer.’

‘the person who makes the mess is the one who should have to clean it up.’

‘you look like shit on a stick.’

‘what part of ‘shut up and listen’ don’t you understand?’

‘if I need you, you come.’

‘the past is gone, even though it defines the present.’

‘I couldn’t have said it better myself.’

‘you’ve got one hell of a temper.’

‘I almost killed you.’

‘(name), that’s an order.’

‘you’re a real piece of work.’

‘we’re going to finish this together.’

‘oh no, you’re the one who’s fucked.’

‘does it hurt? I hope it does. I hope it hurts a lot.’

‘see anything that shouldn’t be there?’

‘we’re only as sick as our secrets.’

‘why do I wish I could take it back?’

‘she would have killed us, so why do I wish I could take it back?’

‘is it the killing you wish you could take back, or the joy of the killing?’

‘you don’t have to be anyone’s doormat.’

‘just remember how dangerous your anger can be.’

[shiroi---kumo]

( @aquaticsoul ) ->

🛠️ +

"Pikkuveli?"

"I know. They'll go to him if anything happens. I promise."

He remembers the conversation more often than he'd like to. He remembers her far clearer than he thinks he probably should given how much time has passed, but he also supposes it would be impossible to forget the other half of himself.

He still finds himself wishing that comfortable presence would settle at his right side again. He still finds himself distant, longingly looking for her missing half that had by chance and miracle formed distinctly next to his.

The last pieces of her take the shape of an earring and a necklace. And he knows what he needs to do with that earring, that bind, yet he hesitates to even disclose that he has it in his possession.

The right thing to do is the hard thing. The right thing to do is to give it to Pilvi, but the fact that it's one of two pieces left of her Mist makes it exceedingly difficult to part ways with.

Would she deliberate like this if it were him instead?

He ponders it as he finally puts the gem of blue and white back into its place on his ear. His eyes fall back to the necklace that he'd made for her, brilliant aqua hanging from a dark cord.

They did everything together for the longest time. They should both go to Pilvi together and surely that will make this process a bit easier. He tucks the necklace of aqua into the box where the earring of violet rests.

That looks much better.

The box snaps closed and slides back under his pillow. Cid enters before anyone else, likely to check on him for the thousandth time and ask once again if there's anything he can do.

Usually, Sielu always answers by shaking his head.

Not this time. He cuts straight to his point before the blond has time to even ask.

He'd been prepared for this possibility. He extends the paper he'd written on in the best Wonderlandian he could manage.

[ I am fine. Thank you. Could you get Kumo for me? Tell him it is important, before I make a coward of myself? ]

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ He had been on his way to check on his patient when he was met with straight answers. A note handed to him in messy handwriting and a request. A request for Kumo and he's sure somehow that it must be strange for them to call him as such, when he is coming to find quickly Kumo is not his name.

He was right this whole time when he heard Kaze call him Pilvi damn near a year ago. He was right this whole time but he didn't dare call him such a thing when Kumo hasn't given him permission to do so. He just needs to figure out when he's going to approach the subject.

There's a smile and a nod as indigo lifts to look at the Misterican of blue before him. He's finally working with him and he's finally speaking for himself - even if he still doesn't have the voice to do so.

"Oh, I don't know where he is exactly at the moment. Last I knew he was taking a bath, but I'll check to see if he's done for you."

The blond gives the - if this man was one of Kumo's teachers then he has to be older than him by quite a bit but he certainly doesn't look like he is - then again Kumo doesn't look very old either.... still he gives the older man a smile.

"I'll be back in a minute."

The engineer leaves to make his way towards the room that the swordsman has come to call his own and there a knock at the door before he cracks it open to see if he's sleeping perhaps. He seems to sleep so much nowadays and he still hasn't quite figured out why yet -

But he doesn't seem to be here? Perhaps he's still in the bath? He can always knock and just tell him to come when he's done. Sielu said it was important after all and he's not the one who needs to judge what a Misterican decides is important to another. So steps carry him down the halls but for some reason his stomach twists the further he goes.

Something suddenly just has his whole body feeling off and something in the air is tense and is that crying? The closer he gets the louder the sound becomes until he realizes it isn't crying it's Kumo crying. It has him taking off into a dead run until he finds himself in front of the door he was headed to anyway and he pushed the door open without invitation.

"Kumo I'm sorry to barge in you but are you o - "

Indigo fills with the sight of the half dressed man weeping into the arms of the smallest of the Amestrians but Kumo's back - Kumo's back was - what was all over Kumo's back? It looked like the scar -

"K- Kumo your back- What is - "

He can only stare in horror as his friend releases his hold on his other friend to push away from him and now he can see Kumo's chest as he comes to face him and it's ... the scars have spread out. His skin looks like ... like glass. Like he's shattering.

That's not possible.

People don't shatter.

Why does Kumo's skin look like glass? What is -

The shame that is plastered across the Misterican's face is hard to miss and it shatters his own heart upon seeing jade eyes look at him while filled with both so much shame and so much fear. Kumo looks terrified and suddenly the technician has forgotten all about the reason he came to get him in the first place.

"I'm sorry." The word sobs out as the swordsman just lets himself sink to set on the floor fully. "I'm sorry Cid. I was scared. I'll tell you everything. I love you. " He pauses to pull a breath between hurried words. "I love you. Please don't be mad. I love you so much. Please don't get mad at me. I was scared. I didn't want - to upset you but now I'm going to anyway. I'm sorry Cid. I swear I didn't mean any harm. I - "

"Kumo stop." The blond starts up again as he crosses the space between himself and his friend only to slowly come down to the floor and set in front of him. Gently does he take trembling hands into his own.

"I don't know what is going on, but we're going to get through this. We'll figure it out. You're not alone in this and I'm going to help you however I can, okay? But I need you to put your shirt on. Sielu is calling for you. He said it was important. We can talk later, alright? Will you come with me for him?"

There is a long intake of breath pulled up through a sniffling nose as a head of white nods. Bare hands wipe against his eyes in an attempt to clean himself up.

"Joo." He starts. "You can go and I'll be there in a minute. Just let me get dressed."

A soft smile first and the engineer moves to reach his arms forward for the first time in some time to wrap them around the weeping man in order to give him a quick embrace.

"I'll tell him you're on your way then."

And it doesn't take long to get back to the medical wing so that he can poke his head into the room where his patient waits. The blond is taking a seat for the moment giving him a smile.

"He was just getting out of the bath." He explains. "He said he'll be here once he's done getting dressed."

Reassurance and confirmation that he did the requested task and he wasn't just bullshitting the man but it makes him wonder how they will react to Kumo's back and chest. Do they know? Did he tell them? Knowing Kumo - probably not. He probably only told Kain.

There are footsteps a moment later as a body of white swings around the corner met with jade eyes still slightly pink from crying as pale lips stretch out into a false smile.

"You were calling for me, Opettaja?"

[lya-dustin]

All is Bliss

Chapter 51

Cw: mentions of blood sacrifices, bullying, and murder

Gif by @beyondtheciouds

Taglist @mercedesdecorazon @ewanmitchellcrumbs @darylandbethfanforever9 @watercolorskyy @alexandria-millie @sweethoneyblossom1

Aegon remembers all the times he teased Aemond over his egg not hatching.

Its had been a smoky gray with red flecks given to him by Laenor and clutchmate to Jace's Vermax and Aemma’s annoying little dwarf dragon, Elēnar.

It had a name, some name that was meant to inspire fear, but made Aegon want to bully him some more.

Once mama caught him offering his blood to it after Aegon told him to, father had shouted at Aegon, taken Aemond aside and given him Barth's book on dragons while mother shouted at father for shouting at him only to slap him when she turned to yell at him, and he pointed it out.

Now as the king tries to make a second Sunfyre for himself, he finds himself looking for the dragonglass dagger Aemma keeps under her pillow for her protection.

They haven’t slept in the same bed since he was poisoned, mainly because he finds it gross as she told him she is to bleed for the forty days after the birth. Aemma had about a week or so to go and appreciated having the bed to herself.

She keeps busy, restless in her cage like the dragon she is and much like Silverwing, she does a good job of pretending she is fine as she is.

This morning he finds her reading her correspondence and having a late breakfast. She wears lilac today, brings out the purple of her eyes and matched the tie at the end of her long braid.

“What are you up to this morning, dear wife?” he asks completely forgetting what he came here for.

Aemma was always lovely, sure she was not the most beautiful, but she was kind and good company and had the old blood of Valyria running through her veins just like him. It would be nice to see her fly again, to see her throw her head back and laugh as Silver’s wingtips skim the ocean.

Once Baratheon wins this war for them, he will give her the freedom to fly again.

Of course, not often because it would look wrong when the king had no dragon of his own.

“Just some letters, Aunt Elenda wants me to take my cousins into our household, apologizes for the whole trying to drug me and almost killing your brother the night before his wedding, oh, and wants to confirm if Uncle Borros is still the man you want as Aenys’ godsfather.” She said showing him the letter as if he would doubt her word.

Aegon trusts her, a stupid thing to do, but he knows Aemma would never hurt him nor try to kill him. He quite likes her, finds himself missing waking up to her in the mornings.

“Tyland suggested him, I guess he had sent the letters already. I know you wanted Aemond to be Aenys’ godsfather, but we can keep Baratheon loyal to us without promising him a royal groom.” Aegon admits knowing why she wants Aemond to be made the babe’s godsfather. If either were to die, Aemond would be the man to raise Aenys as one would a son, if he was close to the boy no one would be suspicious of it and his overly familiar way with his wife not be too obvious.

The reason Aegon readily agreed to make Borros his godsfather.

Besides, Aemond fled Crossed Elms like a coward claimed to have dragon dreams knowing those tree worshiping cunts would believe him. Had he fought they would have won the battle, his brother just won’t admit it. Claims that the fucking riverlords had archers and the commanders too experienced for them to do more than to wave a peace banner and hope for the best.

If he had been there and had Sunfyre, the Riverlands would have burned, and he’d be a fucking warrior king like the conqueror.

Instead, he is here, stuck in this castle because he has been unmanned by his wife’s own fucking grandmother and humiliated by his own little brothers. Even Daeron went down as Daeron the Daring as he died like a man should.

When Borros comes, Aegon intends to lead the battle. He did it once and his sword arm is strong enough to fight, how hard could it be? And what better way to announce it than by entering the tourney.

“I suppose you are right, husband, especially because it will remind people that both your mother and my great-grandfather were brown of hair and eye. A shame Borros refused Cousin Joffrey, we could have had the Vale and Aunt Jeyne would be here to show she also has brown hair.” Aemma pretends it doesn’t bother her. Does a great deal of that since they married, Aegon wondered if one day she will like him and trust him like he trusts her.

He envies Aemond for getting to see the true Aemma, not the poised lady hiding her dragon’s blood underneath silks and brocade.

Aegon would’ve preferred Daeron had been the one to return and not Aemond. Daeron didn’t steal his wife’s heart from under his nose.

“If anyone dares to insinuate you cuckolded me, I will have their heads, dear Aemma. I plan on making sure they get the message at Aenys’ anointing next week.”

“Harwin used to have the worst nightmares as a boy, always dreaming he and father were burning to death and Larys’ laughing as he stood outside the door.” Alys speaks softly as she nursed Aenys.

The babe had been small and frail when he was born and yet the moment Alys became his nurse that night, he awoke as healthy as if he had not been born early. Her witch’s blood refused to let her create new life but made her able to nourish life that already existed.

“I had nothing to do with their deaths.” The queen mother says even though she remembers asking Larys to do what he must to bring her father back to court. Larys had been using her, like all men have done, and yet this time she had the power to say no.

But she hadn’t said no.

Instead, she prayed for forgiveness and put it out of her mind when word of their deaths came just as the raven from Daemon did.

“Just because you say it outloud does not make it true, your grace.” The witch chides her like a mother does to lying child. “I know you agreed to it for your cause.”

“Then why join me? Why kill Harwin’s lover and his sons?” the queen asked hoping that was the answer as to why everything had gone wrong.

“To get to Larys, to have the Blacks kill all those who stand between me and Harrenhal. I work the corridors of self-interest just as anyone here. Now with the war lost and my dear little brother getting his comeuppance, you are of no use to me ,your grace.” The witch said as if it were just something trivial that had failed and not a system of governance.

As if it was always meant to fall.

“You said it was Aegon’s destiny to be king!” the queen cannot comprehend why Alicent would make her do such things if it had not been meant to happen.

“And it was, I never said for how long. Two years is more than Aegon the Uncrowned got.” Alys put the babe in his basket without burping him first and went to stand by the window.

Why did no one else seem to care about this more? Why did no one see that for her family to be safe, Aegon needs to be king and her as his right hand?

Aemma had poisoned her sons against her an now her most trusted ally is led astray by her.

“Oh, no, the little queen did not seduce me from your side, your grace. Our paths are no longer aligned. You stand at the end of your road while I still have so far to go.” the witch answered as if she had spoken aloud.

“You tricked me! You had me sell my soul to the Stranger and damn myself to the Seventh Hell!” Alicent begins to see her with horror.

And yet the witch just stands there by the open window as if nothing was happening.

It would be so easy to kill her. She could lie and say she was going to hurt the little bastard, that she cast a spell on him and she as his grandmother only meant to save him.

Alys would die instantly on the spikes in the dry moat, no one would know.

What is one more kill?

“You said you would do anything to make Aegon king, you agreed to the price, your grace.” Alys coos at her making the queen mother snap and barrel towards her like an angry bull.

Just over the window.

That is all she needs.

And yet when they stand over the edge, Alys overpowers her and instead, Alicent is forced to look down at her grave.

“Now be a good girl for mummy and pay it.” The witch whispers in her ear like a lover and tosses her over the edge as if she weighed as much as little Aenys.

[ronaldofandom]

Worlds Apart

A short drabble full of angst and maybe mild fluff. No warnings

Summary: A different take on the garage scene where Robert assaults Akhtar. Akhar refuses to grovel for forgiveness, shaken by this injustice-laden world.

.....................................................

‘Akhtar.’

Bheem was inside the garage, segregating the new supply of spare parts in the right boxes. 

‘Akhtar, bahar aao.’

(Akhtar, come outside.)

Bheem’s head shot up this time. This new name, albeit sweet, was so alien to him. At times, he still forgot who he was pretending to be.

‘Aaya, abba-jaan.’

(Coming, father.)

A British guard was standing outside. To notify them in advance of an officer’s arrival, who didn’t want to wait for a second more in this swamp than he absolutely had to.

Maqsood Bhai wanted to put Akhtar, their most skilled mechanic, in charge. That was the cover story. In reality, he put Akhtar in front when any of these foreign men came knocking. In the hope that maybe someday, some door will open for him.

The men kept to themselves, though, not willing to engage in any small talk, mostly in a rush to get out of this dump. Some even threw the money on the ground while walking away instead of the most basic human courtesy of handing it to the workers. 

Human. That was the point, wasn’t it? The Britishers thought of the locals as lesser humans, if that at all. The Nizam’s entourage deemed the tribals as barbaric, lesser-evolved primates. Not deserving to be a part of civil societies.

Bheem often wondered if the fate of his kind could ever be any different. Or if generation after generation would continue to be hunted, harassed, and humiliated. In their own land. In their own country.

With a heavy heart, he went inside to bring out the necessary tools. When he came out, the garb of Akhtar was on.

The officer walked in, and Akhtar cringed a little. This man was particularly unpleasant. But he was with a woman this time. So, Akhtar hoped he would be somewhat civil.

‘You - you were the one who serviced my bike last time, right?’

Robert pointed menacingly at Akhtar.

‘How utterly useless is your work? The bike didn’t run for even a week. It’s not even starting.’

‘Janaab - main abhi dekh leta hoon.’

(Sir, I will just check it now.)

Akhtar got to work and quickly figured out the issue.

‘Arey sahib, ye toh reserve me hain. Dekhiye.’

(Oh sir, this was in reserve. Look.)

Bheem smiled and started the bike in no time. And the woman, Carol, started giggling at Robert, calling him silly.

As her giggles got more pronounced, Robert’s ego got more bruised. How dare this insignificant creature make him an object of ridicule in front of the woman he had been eyeing for weeks? No - this insect needed to be crushed under his feet.

The next second, Akhtar felt the full blow of Robert’s baton on his face. He fell down - both with the impact and shock of it.

He could hear Abba Jan pleading to the barbarian, with folded hands, to forgive his son. The other mechanics did the same, falling to their knees before the officer.

For what? What was his fault? That he had dared to be right, to be intelligent? That there was something where he was BETTER than the white-skinned man? For what wapt reason should that be a crime?

Carol gasped on the side. Good, thought Robert. Let me show you who’s the man.

He wasn’t an ordinary man, after all. He was a Special Officer in the Royal British Forces who wasn’t used to a frivolous woman calling him out.

‘You did it on purpose, you greedy scum. Just to loot more money from me.’

Robert kicked his boot in Akhtar’s face. When Akhtar’s arm came up to shield himself, Robert pressed the boot harder, digging the pointy sole into his skin.

Akhtar refused to grovel to be spared. He wouldn’t give this coward that satisfaction. Which infuriated him even more.

‘ROBERT.’

All heads turned sideways in the direction of the loud scream.

A woman stood there, looking appalled, horrified rather. 

The horror turned to rage as she walked toward the scene of crime. 

Robert was frozen in his spot. His boot still hovering over Akhtar.

Akhtar recognized her instantly. But was too shocked to react.

Maqsood bhai looked at her warily as yet another white person. He wondered what business she had here.

Jenny stood next to Akhtar, squaring up to Robert.

‘Get away from him. This very instant.’

She said through gritted teeth. The coldness in her voice and the hot rage on her face made Robert follow her instruction instantly.

Maqsood bhai helped Akhtar get up, gently wiping the dirt from his kurta. He didn’t know what was transpiring between these two foreigners, but he wanted to get his son away from whatever twisted power play this was.

When he tried to pull Akhtar inside the garage, Jenny reached out blindly on her side and grabbed Akhtar’s wrist. She couldn’t dare to look at him yet, but they weren’t done here.

‘Apologise to him.’

‘I am sorry, WHAT? Do you realize what you are saying, Ma’am?’

‘You heard me.’

Robert was seething, his jaws clenched. Perfectly aware of Carol and the filthy civilians being witnesses to his dressing down.

‘Ma’am - this man was stealing from me. And other officers. I caught him red-handed. Trust me, I let him go easy. Someone else would have thrown him in the barracks for weeks.’

Jenny knew there was so truth in that, but she wanted to humiliate him further. She looked behind him to find the other woman, who seemed equally disgusted with Robert.

‘Carol - is that what happened?’

Carol denied it without hesitation, laying down what exactly went down. Robert clenched his fists at her stupidity.

There was no way he would apologize to these low lives. What could Jenny do, anyway? Yes, she was a lady of noble blood, but she was a woman, after all. Which British commander would admonish him for mistreating these scums at the words of a woman? Robert was willing to roll the dice on this one.

Jenny saw the challenge on his face. She was prepared for this situation.

‘Oh, but I am not going to tell them about this situation now, am I? I wonder what Commander Bricks would say if he were to know that you misbehaved with ME inappropriately? I wonder if it would reach my Aunt and Uncle too?’

Robert nearly shat his pants at the deviousness of her scheme. He knew he was beaten. It was her word against his. And in this, a Lady of noble blood would win any day.

Why did she mount such a defense for a native? What was he to her anyway?

Dejected, he turned towards Akhtar, who was staring at Jenny open-mouthed in stunned silence. He couldn’t grasp everything being said but could sense she was fighting on his behalf.

‘I am sorry.’

It felt like someone had forced hot molten iron down his throat.

With one curt bow at Jenny, Robert rode off on his bike. Leaving Carol behind.

‘Carol - thank you for what you did. Here, pls take my car. I will find my way back.’

Carol smiled at her, looked apologetically at Akhtar, and drove away in Jenny’s car.

There was nothing left to do but to look at him now. All her courage seemed to vanish in thin air. Slowly, she turned towards him, bracing herself for his injuries.

Thankfully they weren’t much, but the sheer injustice of the situation made her eyes well up.

The onlookers stared with rapt attention, as did Maqsood Bhai. Who was this foreign woman? Who not only stood up for one of their own but was crying for him too? 

Akhtar didn’t like so many curious eyes on Jenny. Before people started gossiping about the nature of her relationship with him, he gently guided her inside the garage and lowered the shutters. Maqsood Bhai asked everyone to resume work outside, and slowly the crowd dissipated.

Once inside, they stood awkwardly, not knowing how to approach the other.

The sound of Maqsood Bhai walking in with a first aid kit was a welcome distraction. 

‘Umm…may I..may I do this please, if you don’t mind?’

Jenny looked at the older man tentatively.

Akhtar saw the wariness of Abba-jaan towards her. He hadn’t been at ease since seeing her close to Akhtar.

He took the first aid kit from his father and placed it in Jenny’s hand, gesturing to her that he would be back in a minute. Jenny nodded, and the two men walked inside the house through a connected door from the garage.

Once inside, Maqsood Bhai unleashed a barrage of questions on Akhtar about who she was, how they knew each other, and what she was doing there. Akhtar told him everything - from the time he had seen her outside the palace to the market visit.

The older man seemed tentative. Why did a white woman show such concern and empathy toward his son? And he reached the obvious conclusion. Making Akhtar blush a little.

‘Aisa nahi hain, Abba. Woh bas aisi hi hain. Nek. Baki logon jaisi nahi hain.’

(It’s not what you think, Abba. She is like that only. Kind and sweet. Different from the rest of her kind.)

Maqsood’s heart melted at the sweet innocence of his son. He had become like a son to him in all these months. 

Oh, my sweet child. He wanted to tell him. You want to see the good in everyone, even those people. But one day, I worry, this trusting heart will be your doom.

He chose to not say that, not wanting to add to Akhtar’s already troubled thoughts. But he expressed his concerns differently.

He asked Akhtar to not be alone with the woman for long. In all his years of staying close to the palace, Maqsood had understood what Jenny had threatened that British officer with. While that man had some chance to survive against such an accusation, purely for the color of his skin, Akhtar would be dead on the spot, should such an accusation is ever directed at him. Even if she doesn’t accuse him, his fate would be the same if people started gossiping about the two of them. He would be hanged for defiling a noble lady.

Akhtar was horrified beyond measure at what his father just implied, and immediately jumped to Jenny’s defense.

‘Abba - aisa mat boliye. Ye jaayaz nahi hain. Ek masoom pe bohot bada ilzaam laga diya aapne. Usne jo kaha or kiya, mere liye kiya. Uske liye use dosh mat dijiye.’

(Abba - please don’t say that. It’s not right. You have just accused an innocent of something so dastardly. Whatever she said or did, it was for me. Don’t blame her or judge her for that.)

Maqsood just hung his head in resignation, clearly unable to sway his son’s mind about this stranger. He left Akhtar with one last thought - to ask the woman to not escalate the situation with Robert. Akhtar didn’t need any enemies, not the white ones for sure, especially given the nature of his mission. What if that man resents you and comes for you in the middle of the night, with some fake accusation? Would she be here to save you, every-time?

Akhar saw the wisdom in his words. And the man left them alone, going back to his customers.

When Akhtar walked back to the garage, he saw Jenny sitting on a dirty stool. Which had oil-stains all over it. Her silk skirt would have gotten ruined, but she didn’t seem to care. She was too busy arranging the ointment and bandages to notice her surroundings. Once again, his heart felt like she didn’t belong here. This was no palace, no proper place for her.

At least she wasn’t crying anymore.

She saw him and pointed to the stool she had set opposite herself, leaving oil stains on her hand too. He just wanted to wipe them clean.

Akhtar sat in front of her, and she started to tend to his injuries carefully. Stopping after every drop of ointment, checking if it burnt & blowing air on the wound. But the man didn’t even hiss.

He was in a trance. Who are you? His heart wanted to ask her. How are you like this? Why are you doing this for me?

If there were others like her in her people, then there was some hope left in this world afterall.

Jenny meticulously dressed his forearm and the bruise under his eye. Tentatively, she pointed towards his chest, to the bruise right under his neck. Akhtar silently unbuttoned the top two buttons of his kurta. She scooted closer and carefully applied the ointment there, returning to a safe distance as soon as she was done.

But in retreating, the box bumped against his bandaged arm, and Akhtar groaned in pain, sending shockwaves through her.

She had summoned all her will to not break down, but his pained voice was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Tears streamed down her face unabashedly, filling him with distress. 

He didn’t know what to do, how to reach out to her, and the appropriate behavior in this situation. But he couldn’t see her cry like this for him. It pained his heart immensely.

He placed a shaky hand on her knee, and she looked up at him. They gazed at each other for a few moments. Unspoken, unspeakable emotions shared in tender gaze. She covered his hand with hers and squeezed lightly.

No apology would be enough for the injustice she had witnessed, and with such impunity. She shuddered to think what would have happened had she not arrived. During the last two years in India, Jenny had seen a very different version of events than the ones told of the British Empire back home. Of how the Empire had brought about development, peace, and culture in the colonies. And she knew that her exposure was only the tip of the iceberg. The hidden, ugly nature of the beast was still unknown to her. And to most others in London. Or maybe they knew it but didn’t care about it. Which was even worse.

‘Jen-ny.’

It was the first time she had heard him say her name. And was marvelled by the sweetness of his voice.

‘Shukriya.’

(Thank you.)

He smiled at her. But the smile vanished with her sad chuckle.

‘You are thanking me? Oh - look at the irony of it all. How do you not hate me? And everyone like me? How are you even able to tolerate my company right now? Or….is it….is it something you feel you….have to do…like you have no choice but to entertain my wishes?’

Her voice broke, as did his heart. He grabbed both her hands, squeezing them, holding them close to his chest.

‘Because….if that’s the case and…if my presence bothers you as much as it bothers your father, then I….I won’t…see you again. I…will leave you alone.’

She cried harder. Akhtar wanted to cry too, at his helplessness. He wanted to console her, but he didn’t have the right to get any closer than they already were.

‘What a day, huh? I came here, hoping to find you. And look what I found. I can’t come back from this, can I? You will never want anything to do with anyone who looks like me, would you?’

Akhtar couldn’t take it anymore. His hand stroked her hair gently, while making shushing noises like one would do to a crying baby. It worked miracles; she stopped crying in a few moments and gathered herself.

Unable to find any clean cloth around, he picked up some cotton from the first aid box and wiped her tears. Once she was more composed, he fetched her some water, and she dipped her scarf in it to wipe her face.

It was starting to get late. The sun had set some time back. Jenny looked at her watch, and rose up.

‘I have taken too much of your time already. I-I should go.’

Akhtar didn’t let go of her hands, not yet. He knew her car wasn’t there. He pointed to his bike, offering to drop her back.

‘Oh no. Please, I don’t want to bother you. My friend’s house is close by, I am going there. I am going to walk, the way is straightforward.’

She smiled and shook her head at him. But he didn’t let go of her hands, and pointed to the dark outside.

She couldn’t resist any longer, especially when she really really didn’t want to.

He led her out of the back door, brought his bike there, waited patiently till she settled comfortably behind him and drove off to the address he had given her.

Jenny knew this could very well be her last few minutes with him. Ever. Maybe his father will convince him tonight to stay away from her, and maybe he would be right. Maybe his own heart will give up, feeling no love lost for her kind. 

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, resting her face against his shoulder. Tremors ran through Akhtar, and the bike shook a bit from his momentary lack of focus. But he didn’t react any further and just drove on.

Jenny was glad he didn’t pull back. She tried to live the lifetime she had dreamed of in just these few minutes with him.

...............................................

My BheemJenny heart hurt while writing this, but this is a very practical and realistic scenario that I wanted to explore.

As always, would love to know your thoughts :)

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[transman-badass]

A Pharaoh Syndicate Investigations short story

William Armitage, son of librarian Henry Armitage, talks to his friend, private detective Josiah Smith, and learns disturbing information about Arkham's residents, and resident mob boss

Note: contains (my attempt at) period typical sexism and ignorance/non-malicious misgendering.

William Armitage walked up to the edge of the crowd, and stopped. The old house needed to be torn down years ago, before he left Arkham. Now anxious police fluttered in and out of its doors, mumbling to each other, looking over their shoulders. A journalist begged for answers, but the officers didn’t even meet his eyes. All around him, he felt it, that one name on the tip of everyone’s tongue, but no one dared speak it.

Hell of a thing to come across on your morning walk.

“It's bad,” his friend Smith said later that day. “The Syndicate doesn’t play around. Anyone who offends O’Tipp gets the same treatment.” The dark haired man shook his head. “You shouldn’t have come back.”

Smith was probably right. But there weren’t many other places to go. He’d lost his job, and Miskatonic offered him a position at his father’s side. How could he say no? What other alternatives did he have? His wife, his little twins, they needed what only he could provide. They’d all already lost so much in these darkening days… William was grateful to not have to walk the streets with sandwich board signs, like so many he saw in the bigger cities, and even here.

William leaned forward. The library offered the only sanctuary for this kind of conversation in the entire city. They sat here, in the quiet after hours, and no one would hear a word of it.

“So it was him? The Harbinger?”

Smith shook his head. “The Harbinger?” He snorted. “He’s just a story. This is pure human cruelty, and there’s nothing worse than it.” The man looked towards the floor. “O’Tipp is a monster of the finest kind. He rules this city - he owns it. Don’t think even the men in Washington can stop him now.”

Something softened, saddened, around Smith’s eyes. “In Chicago and New York, you know, they have limits. But O’Tipp - even the women aren’t safe from him.”

Cold horror gripped him. Straightening in his seat, William leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

“We had two girls working at the agency, before O’Tipp shut us down.” Smith didn’t seem to see Willain anymore. “Sisters, I always thought. They lived in the old Witch House, before O’Tipp bought that, too.” He sighed, long and aching. “The older one… Always a queer thing, she was. Couldn’t tell her apart from the men. Don’t think most of us even knew she wasn’t one. I don’t even remember, how I learned otherwise. Keller was a coward, didn’t have the guts to…”

He shook his head. William did too, for different reasons. A woman detective? In Arkham? Arkham had always been a strange place, but even this turn seemed unbelievable. And yet, damn, she sounded like his kind of woman. In his younger, more adventurous days, he wouldn’t have thought twice of making a wife of her, no matter his father’s disapproval.

“Keller gave her soft jobs," Smith said, "but she was… Well, she wanted bigger changes than are possible. She wanted to go after O’Tipp.”

“Dear god,” William mumbled. Something icy gripped him, his hands clenched.

“Keller said no, but she…” Smith shook his head. “Damned woman. None of us even knew until O’Tipp walked into the office, with that hideous smile of his.”

“Knew what?”

“The girls had been doing their own personal investigation into the Syndicate.”

William drew in a sharp breath.

“They’d been doing - I don’t even know, what they’d been doing, but they’d done worse than anger O’Tipp. They’d impressed him. He wanted to hire them as his own employees!”

“Is he mad?” William said, louder than he’d wanted. “What could he possibly want with them?”

“The young girl, Sadie Goode - she was our secretary,” Smith said, pain in his words. “Real good at her job, too. Sweetheart of a girl, in her flour sack dresses… The woman you see with O’Tipp in the papers - that’s not his wife. That’s her.”

He didn’t want to ask this, but something compelled him. “What about the older woman - what did you say her name was?”

“She called herself Lazarus Core,” Smith said. “I don’t know who she really was. When O’Tipp showed up, she fought back.” He paused, looked at the ground again. “O’Tipp had his men drag her into his car, and I never saw her again. Not on the street, not in the papers. Like she never existed at all.”

In the hours that passed, even after they went their separate ways, William couldn’t stop thinking about it. About her. That false name lingered in his mind, hypnotic, seductive. Lazarus Core. Lazarus Core.

Who were you, Lazarus Core? He wondered. Why did you turn yourself into a man? Why did you pursue O’Tipp all on your own? Are you still alive?

William almost hoped she wasn’t. If she were still alive, she was no doubt in some unspeakable position, something too horrific to linger on. And his father, he might have said she deserved it… but he might not. William had no plans of sharing this horrible story with him. The world was already cruel enough, he needn’t share painful gossip that would only hurt his father’s good soul.

But he could not, and would not, forget it himself.

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[gaoau]

Stir — Mosquito-Free Zone

A Mother's Instinct note — daddy long legs are cowards and wont even touch you, please dont kill them warnings — none. word count — 1.1k

prev. — next.

In the end, [Name] bought Gilbert a terrarium and kept him warm on the corner of her desk ​​​​to watch him while she studies. Yaku wasn't exactly fine with the armless reptile, considering it was nowhere to be found the first time [Name] tried to introduce him. He later appeared hissing from [Name]'s closet and Yaku had to keep himself from kicking him. He blinked blankly while [Name] crouched and extended her hand, allowing the two-meter snake to calmly wrap around her. [Name] had never heard Yaku scream louder.

But it was fine. As a few weeks went by and visits to each other's house remained as frequent as usual, Yaku ended up becoming quite fond of Gilbert. It also seemed Gilbert had grown quite fond of [Name], seeing as she mostly left the terrarium without its lid, yet he stayed in the comfort of his hidey home. Their nightly hang-outs turned into [Name] rambling about whatever new fascinating facts she had recently learned, Yaku listening closely but not really—because even if he adored her, sometimes she was too fast to follow—and Gilbert poking out his snake tongue while slithering back and forth between the two.

The whole Gilbert ordeal brought a realization to Yaku: [Name] was in absolute love with plants and animals. He knew about her passion for plants, considering he'd heard refer to her succulents multiple times as her babies. Her interest in animals was the same, as she greeted any animal on the street when walking home. How many times had the whole team stopped because [Name] had suddenly disappeared from their side, only to find her petting and baby-talking a stray cat? Too many to count. How many times had Lev joined her since becoming part of the team? Not more than Fukunaga, that's for sure—damn, that kid loved cats.

What Yaku didn't know about [Name]'s infatuation with breathing creatures was that it included every animal—except for maybe flies and mosquitoes, God, she loathed those. He came to learn this the hard way.

[Name] was finishing with setting up their usual pillow fort when Yaku walked into the room. His arms were occupied with bags of snacks, a plastic container, and soda bottles as he closed the door behind him with his foot. "Hey, your dad baked some brownies. I'm kinda starting to see a pattern here. Do you think he wants to eat you for New Year's?"

"Morisuke, what the fuck?" [Name] looked up from her laptop, eyebrows bending in confusion.

Yaku shrugged. "I'm just saying; he's feeding you a lot of sweets lately."

"Yeah, he's gotten into baking, for some reason. Probably cause mom told him he's not very good at cooking."

Yaku's chuckles bounced against the walls, filling the room with cheerful laughter. [Name] grabbed the sealed bottles from his grasp and, keeping the container for himself, Yaku let go of the bags he was struggling to hold. They plopped down on the carpeted floor, and a very unfortunate one slapped [Name]'s face. She shot her eyes up to glare at her friend, but he was already off to check on Gilbert. Her gaze immediately softened at the sight, a content smile curling her lips upwards.

Yaku did like Gilbert, after all. To think that about a month before he wouldn't dare get close to the snake, and now he was tapping Gilbert's terrarium and calling him buddy. How very lucky she was to have a best friend that put up with every last bit of her bullshit; be it adopting random animals or buying ice-cream for her all-nighters.

"Ah, shit, [Name], there's a spider here. You should clean this place a bit."

[Name] snapped out of her daze at the sound of her name. One of her brows quirked as she tried to make sense out of Yaku's words. She dismissed his sentence when she remembered the spider by the corner of her room. "Oh, no, that's Lukas. I feed him the mosquitoes—"

Yaku's palm slamming against the wall silenced her instantly. Her jaw unhinged. Yaku wiped his hand on his clothes to clean off the spider's body. His eyes widened in guilt as he turned to look at [Name]'s dumbfounded expression. "You had a name for it?"

"Did you just…? Did—Did you…? Did you just kill Lukas?"

"Shit, sorry, I thought it was just a spider."

[Name] blinked once; twice; thrice. Her brows twitched. "Um… It's—Doesn't matter, it's fine. Don't worry…"

A heavy silence settled between the pair. [Name] hung her head low to hide her eyes brimming with tears. Yaku heard his stomach growl at him as it started somersaulting in its place. He sighed along with a roll of his eyes. Gilbert slithered onto his arm, and he popped open the lid of the brownie container. "Are you crying?"

"…No."

The breaking of her voice begged to differ. "[Name], look, I'm sorry. I acted on reflex. I meant no disrespect to Lukas." He plopped down among the bundle of blankets, a friendly snake on one hand and a pair of brownie squares in the other. Gilbert hissed while climbing up [Name]'s neck and nuzzling below her hair.

She sniffed, pursing her lips."…It's fine." She used her index finger to rub Gilbert's head.

"[Name], I'm really sorry. I'll help you find another one, if you want to."

[Name] lifted her head to meet Yaku's eyes with her own teary ones. Her lips were downturned in a pout, voice quivering as she muttered, "Would you really do that…?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry. Here, come on." His left arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, pulling her to lean against him as she still sniffled quietly. He held the brownie in front of her and she leaned froward slightly to bite down on it, albeit still holding back her tears. "I'm sorry, I really am, yeah?"

"He was my best friend…"

"Ouch."

"After Gilbert, of course."

"Well, look who's not sad anymore." Yaku almost instantly pulled his arm back and pushed [Name] away from his body.

"No, wait, I'm still sad, hug me!" And she threw her arms around him, stealing the brownie from his hand in the process. Yaku wanted to grunt out an I hate you, but [Name] would never buy it. She knew better than that, and he would be lying if he said he didn't want to hold her again.