#oc: caine sharpe

[faepunkprince]

Nevermind the blood, it's not his <3

[salemruinseverything]

okay logically speaking i have sideblogs in character as a bunch of my ocs so i don't need to do this but. i think it's funny. tmcverse dashboard sim be upon ye

0 notes

☁️ satanicpanic Follow

i hate the little mermaid i hate the little mermaid i hate the little mermaid i hate the little mermaid i hate

#PUT ON AN ACTUAL MUSICAL #jamie's posts #personal #WE COULD'VE BEEN DOING RIDE THE CYCLONE RIGHT NOW #BUT NOOOO #SOMEONE WANTED TO THROW A HISSY FIT #sorry i'm. being overdramatic about this

1 note

🌹 sharpeasaknife Follow

if any of you hear from @christmasknight let me know. i can't get in contact with her

#helena.txt #i'm so fucking worried about her #she hasn't even read my texts #noelle if you're seeing this somehow please call me

20 notes

🐈‍⬛ began-and-ended-in-ellipses Follow

chapter 16 of all we ever wanted was everything has been posted! this one goes out to the anon who asked "is quality or whatever his name is ever gonna kill that twink"

#cas's writing #dream smp #benchtrio #dapduo #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #c!tommyinnit #c!quackity #c!slimecicle #awewwe updates

14 notes

💻 imnotyourboyfriendbaby Follow

@began-and-ended-in-ellipses i hope you know i'm never calling him anything other than quality ever again

🐈‍⬛ began-and-ended-in-ellipses Follow

you say that like you remembered his name in the first place

💻 imnotyourboyfriendbaby Follow

quality hq (the hq stands for high quality)

#i don't minecraft #mutual tag #irl tag #reblob #began-and-ended-in-ellipses

4 notes

🕕 thearistocrat Follow

that was easier than i thought it was going to be.

#maybe immortality isn't so unattainable

0 notes

👁️ solarpoweredcalculator Follow

i swear to god i just heard my brother walk by me and mumble "heh.... quality"

#what is up with him #not wwatt

3 notes

🎍 leavesbrokeabovethenfellbelow Follow

i swear to god if this man doesn't stop hitting his head against the fucking floor or whatever he's doing MARTIN MY ROOM IS DIRECTLY BELOW YOURS

🌼 tboyyellowpearl Follow

I'M HAVING A MOMENT

🎍 leavesbrokeabovethenfellbelow Follow

I CAN FUCKING TELL HOLY SHIT

#serious talk though are you alright #i'll make you tea do you want tea

2 notes

⚰️ salemruinseverything Follow

please ask me about my ocs please please ple

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 19

read on ao3! (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Warning: detailed descriptions of physical abuse from a parent

Word count: 7.8k

wasn't going to post this today but I can't hold you all in anticipation for feral Joel any longer ;)

this is both my favourite and the most painful chapter yet...

Chapter 19: 'Strangers'

Joel’s POV:

The frigid night air did nothing to cool the fire raging beneath Joel’s skin.

The bartender, whose name Joel never asked, slipped them out the backdoor. The way his wide eyes darted around, as he pushed open the rusted metal door, told Joel that he was worried, terrified even. But the deep, permanent, crease between his eyebrows also told him that fear was an ever present emotion in the residents of this town. 

Joel had neither the patience nor the pleasantries to thank the man, so he opted for a curt nod as his eyes shot to the black street that stretched before them. There were no streetlights to lessen the sense of oppressive darkness which surrounded the path Joel and Ethan began to walk. They kept their steps quick, careful to avoid watchful eyes who were used to peering through the dark. 

The thick handle of Joel’s knife was enclosed within his hand, the blade pressed against his jeans. Hidden, but ready to slice anything that got in his way. Joel imagined pressing the sharp edge to Elijah’s throat, feeling the weight of the blade pushing in, and savouring the heat of his blood as it wet his hands. Joel’s lips twisted in the beginnings of a cruel snarl.

Ethan’s steps pounded behind him, struggling to keep up with Joel’s vicious stride. Joel adjusted his broad shoulders, attempting to shake off the suffocating feeling of Ethan’s presence. 

They were headed to the armoury. Neither of them had any significant weapons on them, and Joel wasn’t risking stepping into a situation where he wasn’t properly prepared. Juliet’s life hung in the balance; Joel wouldn’t risk a thing. Especially when it was his fault that she was back here, his fault that she was locked in a house with her abuser, his fault that she hadn’t felt she could tell him��

Within the swirling mess of self-loathing, which continued to swell in his mind, lay a puzzle that Joel couldn’t figure out. Why allow Joel to go to the bar? Why allow him to be seen by the townspeople? Joel’s jaw tightened and the weight of his steps grew heavier as he contemplated Elijah’s decisions. Picking apart the mind of a madman was not something Joel enjoyed, but he was good at it. Because he understood strategy, he understood cruelty. 

Joel skidded to a stop as they rounded on a corner, his head whipped side to side as he struggled to see through the aching darkness.

“This way,” a rough voice whispered. Ethan stepped around Joel and began walking down another empty street. Joel followed close behind, gritting his teeth. 

As they closed in on the armoury, which was really just a run down barn on the edge of town, Joel sunk deeper into the mind of Juliet’s dad. The questions were overpowering and endless. Why hurt Juliet? Why lure her back here? Why not let her go?

Joel’s fingers curled into a tight fist. He felt the harsh bite of his knife begin to press into his calloused skin as realisation dawned over him. 

Elijah wanted complete control over Juliet, he wanted to be her protector, her saviour. 

Which meant that he had lost something. Elijah had suffered a loss in his past so great that his instincts of care and protection had twisted, becoming darker, more intense, more dangerous. Juliet wasn’t just his daughter, she was his second chance. 

Protection and fear often bled into possession and control. There was a fragile line between care and ownership, love and dominance. 

Joel’s heavy breaths faltered, stuttering, as his own past crept over his skin, crawling into his mind, bringing forth memories too painful to even visualise. 

The sharp blade of his knife finally pierced his skin and Joel could breathe again. The air released from his tight lungs, as the sting on his hand eased the pressure in his mind. 

Ethan turned to look over his shoulder, attempting to read the look on Joel’s face. But it was too dark, and Joel was too good at shielding his emotions. He just ground out a quick command: “Keep movin’” and Ethan quickened his steps as they raced across the damp grass. 

Elijah was addicted to control. He had this whole town so brutally devoted to him that they were complacent in the torture of two young people. That was why he allowed Joel to go to the bar: surveillance. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. And who better to watch over Joel than his keen eyed followers? 

Joel uttered a quiet “fuck ” under his breath. Ethan didn’t turn around this time. Joel was glad, he wasn’t in control of himself, he might start swinging at the next person who looked him in the eye. 

Bringing him to the armoury earlier, showing him his gifted weapons, his gifted vehicle, was all an elaborate trick. Elijah was playing with his food. There was no way he was letting Joel leave this town. He thought back to earlier when he stepped in front of Juliet, when he opposed Elijah’s sick claim over her, and offered Juliet a choice. Joel had watched the ire ripple under Elijah’s stone features. Joel had challenged him, Joel was a threat. And Elijah wasn’t going to let him get away with it.  

He should have never stepped away from her. He shouldn’t have left her there when he felt something was wrong. Joel was haunted by many things in his life, but he knew that that decision would cling to him for a long time. Thick regret boiled within him but Joel didn’t try to push it down anymore, he didn’t try to displace it. Joel allowed his fear, his regret and his anger to inflame, to blister, to worsen. 

Joel relished in the blood that pooled in his hand, he savoured the sharp sting that throbbed around the blade of his knife. 

The pain fueled him. 

Juliet needed him, and he wouldn’t let her down again. 

………………………………………………..

“Wait out here,” Joel ordered. His voice low but commanding as he stretched his arm out in front of Ethan, blocking him from moving towards the doors to the armoury. 

Ethan peered up at him, his eyes narrowing as he registered Joel’s demand. The crease between Joel’s eyes deepened as he watched the shock and resentment wash over the younger man’s sallow features. Ethan opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Joel just raised his hand with impatience, cutting him off.

“I don’t know what or who’s in there, I’m goin’ in alone,” he said, leaving no room for a debate as he began to turn towards the doors. But that didn’t stop Ethan from trying. 

Ethan moved forward, grabbing hold of Joel’s sleeve before he could reach the handle. Joel’s head whipped towards him and his hands began to shake with the effort it took not to punch that entitled look off of his face. 

“I got Juliet out of his town once, and I can do it again. Who even are you?” Ethan’s words rushed out in a single breath as his eyes darted around, making sure no one had spotted them. He was practically jumping on the spot with the energy that rippled through him. 

“You’re gonna want to let go of me,” Joel ground out slowly, after a pause. He didn’t break eye contact with Ethan as his hand quickly unlatched from his tight grip on Joel’s sleeve.  

Joel rolled his shoulders and ran a hand over his face. He was growing impatient, he had no idea what was happening to Juliet right now and Ethan was only prolonging her suffering with his whining. 

“You stay behind me and you shut up, got it?” Joel hissed, his irritation rolling off of him in waves. Ethan just nodded, sharp and quick. Joel stared at him a moment longer before rolling his eyes and reaching for the door handle. 

The inside of the armoury was quiet, there was no one else lurking in the old barn as far as Joel could tell. But he moved slowly through the building, heading straight for the shotguns on the back wall. Elijah and his people had built up one hell of a supply.

A few minutes later, Joel ran his hand over the weapon before swinging the strap of the shotgun over his shoulder. He released a weighted breath at the feeling of a gun in his hands again. Ethan stood beside him, his hand outstretched to grab a gun of his own. Joel looked down at him, his eyebrows raised. 

“You know how to use one of these?” he asked, watching Ethan from the corner of his eye as he adjusted his own gun.

Ethan grabbed hold of a shotgun and shot Joel an incredulous look. “Of course I can use a fucking shotgun,” he replied.

If Juliet didn’t care for Ethan, he would have been a dead man from that comment alone. Joel’s lips twitched with restrained anger before turning around and searching for ammo. He heard Ethan release a quiet, relieved, breath.

Once they were stocked up on ammo, Joel and Ethan headed to the side of the barn where the trucks were kept. Juliet had promised him a car battery back in the QZ, but there was way more than just batteries available. There were three trucks lined in a row, each of them rusted and dusty as though they hadn’t been driven in a long time. But Joel guessed that they were well maintained, their batteries charged every now and then in case of emergencies. That’s what Joel would do if he were in charge of a town. 

Joel had begun to creep around the first truck, ready to try to hotwire it if needed. He had to know there was a way out of this town, a vehicle ready for him to get Juliet away as quickly as possible. But before he could even reach the truck, he stilled. His muscles locked up as he froze in place. 

“Ethan made it to the bar, tried to fight that guy who turned up with Juliet. Joel, I think his name was,” said a voice from outside the barn, his words were muffled but Joel heard them clear enough. So did Ethan, who shot Joel a terror filled look. 

Joel reached out his hand, palm up, to still Ethan. His mind began to filter through a thousand possibilities of how they would get out of here alive and without alerting whoever roamed outside. They both stood like statues, Ethan’s eyes latched onto Joel, as another voice from outside raised loud enough for them to hear.

“Fuck, Elijah’s not gonna like this”

Then a third voice…

“Just hurry up and get the ammo, then we’ll go get them. They won’t have made it far.”

Joel jumped into gear, moving with pure instinct. There were three voices outside, that meant they were outnumbered. And they were coming inside, which meant his hopes of a quiet exit were gone. 

They would have to fight. 

Joel curled his hand towards Ethan, and pointed with a sharp look from his dark eyes towards the door. Ethan frowned but followed, their steps thankfully silent on the old wooden floor. 

They positioned themselves on either side of the barn doors. Joel attempted to have a silent conversation with Ethan, but it was either too dark or Ethan wasn’t the brightest, because all Joel got in response was a confused tilt of his head. 

Joel’s eyes shot to the ceiling, the pressure on his chest increasing as he heard the voices move closer. Joel lifted his free hand, making quick, focused gestures. Ethan eventually nodded, finally understanding Joel’s clear instructions. 

Joel clenched his jaw, gritted his teeth, and waited for the men to open the doors. 

Moments later, the handle turned, and Joel was ready. The first man came through the door, and immediately fell forward, crashing onto the dirty floor with a bullet in his head. 

Shouts rang in Joel’s ears as the next two men came barging in, stepping over the body of their friend. Their jaws hung open and their eyes moved between Joel and Ethan, obviously unprepared and taken off guard. Joel was right about this town, it may have the weapons and supplies, but there were no fighters living here. 

Before the men’s eyes swung back over to Joel, another body dropped to the floor. Joel’s gaze immediately darted to Ethan, who stood breathing heavily, winded by the force it took to fire a gun in his weak state. 

Joel recognised the third man. He had ginger hair and a thick, bleeding gash across his forehead, covered in a small bit of gauze. Before Ethan could finish the job, Joel moved, grabbing the man from behind and bringing his shotgun around to press on his neck as the man was forced to push against Joel’s front, wriggling as the shotgun tightened and his air began to lessen. 

Joel grunted as the man elbowed him in the ribs but he held steady. “Don’t shoot, we need him,” Joel barked towards Ethan, who had already pointed his gun towards the man in Joel’s arms. 

Ethan, confused, began to move closer, stepping over the two bodies at his feet.

Before the man passed out from the crushing force of the shotgun pressed against his neck, Joel moved his mouth to his ear. “Where’s Juliet?” he hissed, still grunting in between breaths as the man continued to squirm against him. 

Joel eased the force of the gun just a little to allow the man enough air to reply. “At her house, with Elijah,” the man croaked out as his boots began to kick back against Joel’s shins 

Joel held steady, eyeing Ethan. Juliet was still at her house, meaning Elijah hadn’t moved her anywhere. They knew where to go. But Joel wasn’t done with his interrogation. 

He tilted his mouth back to the man’s ear. “Who’s with ‘em?” Joel asked, his voice rough with pain as the man got another hit in. 

When the man didn’t answer, Joel adjusted his grip on the shotgun, applying more pressure on the man’s throat until Joel began to feel his consciousness slip. Then he loosened it again. 

Ethan had lowered his gun as he stared at Joel. His eyes were wide and his gaze kept darting away as though he struggled to watch the brutal scene in front of him. Joel noted this with deep frustration. Perhaps Ethan’s weakness was not only found in the current state of his battered and malnourished body. 

“Daniel,” the man in his arms finally gasped out. “Daniel is with them.”

Joel’s lips pulled back to reveal the shape of a vicious snarl. Only one more idiot standing in the way of Joel wrapping his fist around Elijah’s neck. 

Before Ethan could even open his mouth, Joel had let go of the shotgun and replaced his grip on the man’s neck with his arm. The muscles in his bicep flexed as Joel forced his arm in one quick movement until he heard the crunch of the man’s neck and felt his body go limp. 

Joel stepped back and allowed the body to drop to the floor. He stood over it, breathing heavy while he adjusted the strap of his shotgun.

Ethan had jumped backwards when the man hit the floor, almost tripping over the other bodies. His boots were stained with their blood as it pooled around them.

Ethan lifted his heavy gaze to Joel’s face. “What the hell was that?” he demanded, his voice shaky. 

“We know where she is, we know who she’s with. We can go get her now,” Joel said, in a monotone, matter of fact voice as he began to step over the still warm bodies. 

Ethan made a sound almost like a growl and whipped his hand out towards Joel, the tips of his fingers almost touching the arm of his jacket before Joel grabbed Ethan by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall beside the doors.

The adrenaline was still pumping steadily through Joel’s bloodstream as let go of one of Ethan’s shoulders, slipped his knife out of his pocket, and brought it to Ethan’s face. “What did I tell you bout’ touchin’ me?” Joel seethed, pushing the tip of his blade against the soft skin of Ethan’s cheek. 

Ethan swallowed rough, the action restrained as though he was frightened the knife would cut him. Joel would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. 

“Don’t fucking question my methods,” Joel warned, in a voice so quiet it might have sounded gentle. But the look in Joel’s eyes made it very clear that his words were coated in a razor sharp edge. He pressed the knife in further, careful not to break skin. “If you can’t handle this then leave, cause I'm gettin’ Juliet outta here with or without you.” 

Ethan’s jaw clenched, then he nodded sharp and quick. 

Joel let go of him and walked out the doors before Ethan could even catch his breath. 

…………………………………………………

Juliet’s POV:

There were exactly fourteen steps down to the basement.

Juliet counted every one, each time she followed her father into the dark room below their rickety house. It helped ground her, the counting.

She would count the steps, then she would count the seconds, the minutes, and the hours. And when the number grew high enough for her father to be satisfied with her punishment, Juliet would listen as he walked those fourteen steps back down to collect her.

It was strange how memory worked. It had been nearly four years since Juliet wandered into the suffocating darkness of the basement, nearly four years since she felt the cold chill in the air which coated her skin like an oily slick. Yet, she still remembered to count the steps. 

She did it on instinct, her mind was entirely devoid of thought or emotion, all that drifted through her consciousness was the sound of her counting. One, two, three, four… 

Juliet was too numb to think anyway, to feel anything other than the space around her. The entire time she had travelled with Joel, Juliet knew what her destination was. The basement flashed through her mind many times, usually waking her from a shallow sleep in the truck or causing her to thrash and kick in her sleeping bag as she lay beside Joel. He would reach out a hand, stilling the movement of her legs, calming her racing heart. 

She was always grateful for his quiet strength and his rare soothing touch, but it only kept the monsters at bay for a short while. They were never really gone. Because every mile they travelled led them closer to Juliet’s real nightmare. 

Five, six, seven… 

Juliet wasn’t sure what awaited her at the bottom of the steps, how she would reach the ‘salvation’ her father spoke of. Through her numbness, a spark of pain shot through her heart when she imagined Ethan facing the same fate. The thought of him hating her hurt more, though. Ethan was the only good thing in her life for so long, to lose that … 

Eight, nine, ten, eleven… 

Her mind picked up again and brought forth the anxiety and fear that shook her to the bone. Joel would never forgive her. She had brought him here on stupid, naive, false hope. Juliet had been content with returning home and fading into nothing but a memory in Joel’s mind, and a sad smile on Ethan’s lips. But with Ethan turned against her, turned into something vicious, something like her father, and Joel trapped here… Juliet began to feel that her sacrifice was in vain. The only person gaining anything was her father. It was always her father who won their games, Juliet had been stupid to think otherwise. 

Twelve, thirteen … 

Her legs shook with each step, the world around her travelled in slow motion. Bile rose in her throat and she fought to keep her arms by her side.

For most people, the world ended around twenty years ago. But for Juliet, her world ended with the last step down those basement stairs. 

Fourteen.  

…………………………………

“You know, Ethan sat in a chair just like this.”

Juliet blinked, her father’s words slicing through the fog that filled her head, clouding her thoughts and numbing her emotions. She looked down, reminding herself where she was. Juliet blinked again, slower this time, when she remembered the thick, coarse rope which wrapped around her wrists and ankles, tying her to the metal chair she sat on. 

Eventually, her head tilted back up to meet her father’s icy gaze. His lips twitched into a satisfied smile when she didn’t respond. It appeared that Elijah had counted on her speechlessness. 

He lowered his eyes to the restraints on her wrists, then turned and walked towards a fireplace on the back wall of the room, directly in front of Juliet. This was new, there had never been a source of light in the basement before. 

“They’re for your safety. Don’t want you running off again. It’s not safe for you out there,” her father explained, his back turned to Juliet as he picked up a poker and prodded the burning logs. 

“I managed just fine on my own,” Juliet murmured without a thought. The words just slipped out. Her head shot up and her teeth clamped down on her tongue when she realised what she said. 

Her father’s movements stilled, the poker now hovering over the fire. 

Then Juliet heard his quiet chuckle, getting louder with every second until she watched her father’s shoulders shake. Juliet squirmed in her seat, her heart had begun to pound against her chest. 

Without warning, the laughter ceased. The only sound that remained was the crackling of the fire and the quiet breaths that slipped past Juliet’s clenched jaw. She followed her father’s movements as he dropped the poker back into its stand and picked up the bible resting on the wooden top of the fireplace, then turned towards her. 

When he met her eyes, his face was devoid of all emotion. 

“Let’s begin,” he said and cracked open the first page. 

…………………………………………………….

Juliet’s head swung to the side with the force of the slap. 

This time, it wasn’t by her father’s hand, but rather the book he held. Pain blossomed across her jaw and rippled through every muscle on her face. Her mouth filled with spit which had begun to spill out of the side of her numbing lips. She felt a wetness against her ear too, it was most likely bleeding as well. 

Her father was bent over her, his face red with muted rage and his mouth open wide as he shouted words that Juliet couldn’t hear. The only sound she heard was a prolonged high pitched noise, drowning out everything else. The hit had stunned her and she struggled to remember why her father had done it. Usually there was something she had done wrong, something that angered him, something that forced him to teach her a lesson. 

Her father continued to scream in her face, the hot air from his breath hit her already burning cheek. Juliet just stared back, her eyebrows pinched together in a mixture of pain and confusion. 

A scream tore from her throat when a hand gripped her chin and began to squeeze. “Are you listening to me?” her father raged. Her hearing started to return but the sound was still muffled. In an effort to stop his assault on her face, Juliet began to nod her head in frantic movements until her father released her. 

Her father staggered backwards and ran a hand through his grey hair, tugging on the strands. Juliet spat a mixture of spit and blood onto the floor and forced her head up to watch him. He looked off balance, his eyes were wild and unfocused as they scanned Juliet.

As the seconds passed, and the pain became less urgent, Juliet remembered what she had done to deserve such punishment. 

Elijah decided that the first stage in her ‘salvation’ was confession. It turns out he wasn’t a big fan of the answers Juliet gave him. Her father’s hands had begun to shake when she answered his questions about Ethan. His face turned red when he asked her about Boston. And the slap came after he asked about travelling with Joel.

“Your confession is not done, Juliet. I can sense there is more you have not revealed,” her father urged. “You cannot begin to cleanse until I know how soiled you are.”

The bile rose in Juliet’s throat again, but she swallowed it down and steadied her features. It surprised her, the anger that had started to build within herself. 

“Let’s try again, shall we?” he asked, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest. “Tell me about your time with Joel.” 

“No,” Juliet murmured, before spitting more blood. The thought of Joel brought pain far worse than the bruises blossoming across her face. Her father had no right to ask about him. And for what? For some sick possessive insight into the intimate parts of her life. Her father believed he had full ownership of her, like she was his to control like a child’s doll. Juliet hadn’t realised this until a couple years into living in the QZ, when the wounds from her childhood began to scab over. When her memories became clearer, and she saw her father for what he really was. 

“No,” she said again, louder this time. That slap had awoken something inside her. That slap was no different to the slaps she received as a young girl. Even when she did everything he asked of her, he would always find something to punish her for. When she opened her eyes into her father’s wild stare, she realised that nothing she would ever do would be good enough for him. 

The thought was freeing, almost. Even strapped to a chair in the basement of her father’s house, Juliet felt liberated. 

And with that liberation, came a sense of recklessness. 

“No?” her father finally asked, repeating her resistance with a quirked brow. “The mention of Joel seems to have hit a nerve,” he taunted, “has Ethan truly been replaced? Joel’s a bit old for you, isn’t he, my dear?”

Juliet’s hands began to tremble. Not with fear, but with rage.

“He has nothing to do with this,” she insisted, her hands curling into fists. Elijah noted the movement with great interest. 

“Hmmmm,” he began, walking forward again. Her father liked to tower over Juliet when he could, she assumed it made him feel in control, made him feel powerful. Maybe it reminded him of when she was truly a child, before she had thoughts of her own. 

“I saw the way Joel looked at you. I saw the way he watched you. It was like he had claimed you,” her father snarled. 

Juliet glared at him as she gritted her teeth. She felt like she was balancing on a tightrope, one wrong move and she’d fall to her death. Bravery was not always rewarded. But Juliet couldn’t stifle the rage that had burned inside her, and the remaining throbbing pain from his slap only ignited that fire. 

“I am not a thing to be claimed,” Juliet ground out, struggling to control her anger. “I’m not yours, I’m not anyone’s.” 

Elijah was silent, but Juliet held her ground, she didn’t break the withering stare she threw his way. Everything had been taken from her, she had nothing left to lose. 

“Who taught you that?” her father demanded, then barked out a short laugh. “I am your father, I have every claim over you.” 

“Father’s are supposed to love their daughters, not own them,” Juliet protested. Her eyes began to fill with frustrated tears, but her words grew louder, more forceful. “This isn’t love. It’s possession.”

Juliet had watched fathers with their daughters in the Boston QZ, she had watched their smiles and their laughs. Juliet knew what fatherly love was supposed to look like, and this wasn’t it. 

Elijah stalked those last few steps towards her and placed his hands over her restrained wrists, pressing his weight down on them until their faces were inches apart. Juliet leaned back as far as she could, her face flinching with discomfort. Her wrists began to ache, and Juliet’s arms started shaking involuntarily. Elijah enjoyed watching her struggle. His lips transformed into a sneer, and his eyes shone with a sick delight. And the anger… his rage was rolling off of him in waves, he could barely keep it contained. 

“The world is not safe, Juliet ,” he whispered inches from her face, her name dropped from his lips like a curse. “There are demons, yes. Those infected monsters, with their peeling faces and sharp teeth. But there is worse out there. Hunters, raiders who crawl the country, killing and gutting people with no remorse -” 

Elijah cut himself off with a heavy sigh, then his words became frenzied. “I kept you here, I kept you safe from that. I kept you safe because you are my property, you are mine to protect. And I will not lose another daughter to -” 

He stopped, letting go of her wrists immediately. The blood rushed back into them and Juliet began to feel her fingers again, but that relief was the furthest thing from her mind. 

Another daughter? 

Her father staggered back another few steps, he looked horrified. His mask slipped right off his face as he said those words, now he struggled to put it back on. He wiped a hand over his forehead and when he brought it back down, the horror was gone. He was seething, his whole body moved with the force of his brutal breaths. 

“What do you mean, another daughter?” Juliet whispered, but her voice sounded far away. 

Her father flinched. Juliet was unsure if what she was experiencing was real, or a dream. Maybe she passed out when he hit her, maybe this was all in her imagination. Because her father’s bravado had never faltered, and yet here he stood before her, visibly flinching at her words. 

Elijah started to pace in front of Juliet’s chair, his steps brisk and savage. Juliet’s mind was still clouded, so it took her a few seconds to realise he was mumbling to himself. 

Then he stopped, turning to face Juliet. He looked like he was arguing with himself, he was losing control, unravelling right in front of her. For the first time since she could remember, Juliet looked at her father and saw weakness staring back at her. 

“Your parents couldn’t protect you, sweet Juliet,” he began. His eyes had a detached look in them, like he wasn’t really standing in front of her. 

Juliet swore her heart stopped at his words.

“They didn’t have what it took to survive. They didn’t have the determination to keep you safe,” Elijah continued, raising his bible in the air as he spoke.

Nausea washed over her. 

“I saved you. I saved you from them . And then I spared them any more suffering.”

He paused to inhale a deep breath, as though his words were suffocating him. But he wasn’t finished. 

“You looked so much like her, with your brown eyes and curls. And your cry, when your parents died, God, it sounded so much like hers.”

Juliet didn’t know how much more of this she could take, the nausea was overpowering her. 

“I knew at that moment that you were mine, that you were my second chance. I could take you in, protect you, make sure you were never taken from me. Never stolen away.”

The ringing in Juliet’s ears returned, and she leaned forward and vomited all over the floor. 

Her father didn’t take his eyes off of her, wasn’t even remotely startled by the evidence of her disgust. He walked forward and bent down until they were at eye level, then he lifted a hand and reached towards her chin.

Juliet’s entire body recoiled from his touch. She felt a wetness on her cheeks and nearly gasped in shock when she realised she was crying. Tears were flowing down her face and dripping onto her neck. Elijah tried again, reaching forward to grab her chin in his tight hold. 

A moment ago, when Elijah’s own confession fell from his lips, his eyes looked wistful, haunted. But now, as he knelt before her, that simmering fury had returned. He began to tighten his grip on her chin. 

Juliet couldn’t feel the pain anymore, she couldn’t feel much of anything. 

“The one thing I couldn’t protect you from, my dear, was your own stupidity,” her father growled, his lips pulling back into a snarl. 

Juliet began to struggle in his grip, attempting to pull herself away from his hand, but it was no use. With her wrists and legs restrained, Juliet was powerless. 

“All those years, feeding you, keeping you sheltered in my home, behind the fence I built, in the community I created,” he paused to shake his head. “And you repaid me by running away, by throwing my protection back in my face.”

“You insulted me once, Juliet. I will not let that happen again.”

Elijah released her chin suddenly and Juliet’s gaze dropped to the floor. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes again. There was nothing behind his icy stare. Juliet could no longer predict his movements, his actions. 

Her father was playing his own game and she had no idea of the rules. 

She couldn’t even begin to unravel everything he just confessed to. Juliet was in shock, nothing made sense anymore. She felt lightheaded, maybe if she just passed out everything would go away, she would wake up lying next to Joel in the woods. Another hot tear rolled down her burning cheek. 

“Daniel!” Elijah bellowed. 

Juliet blinked, finally raising her eyes to look around her. Her father stood by the fire, the poker in his hand. There was something else there too, he was clipping something onto the poker, but her eyes were too blurry with tears to see. 

The door at the top of the basement stairs opened and Daniel came into view. He didn’t say a word, just walked up behind her and hovered, waiting on her father’s instructions. Juliet’s stomach dropped, an icy dread churning in her gut. 

After another agonisingly long minute, Elijah pulled away from the fire and turned towards her. Juliet's eyes immediately dropped to the poker in his hands. And the red hot metal letters attached to the end of it. 

E.M. Elijah Matthews.  

The nausea struck Juliet, hard and fast. She nearly doubled over, but by some miracle, she stayed upright. Her legs began to tremble, shaking the metal chair beneath her. Juliet had figured out her father’s next move. 

“No, no, no, no,” she began to cry, pulling against the ropes with enough force to tear skin.

She watched as her father nodded to Daniel behind her and felt his hands come down on her shoulders. 

“I don’t want it to be too visible, Daniel please lift up her shirt,” her father ordered, as he continued his slow walk towards her. The white hot end of the poker reflected in his eyes and illuminated the cruel shape of his mouth. 

“No!” Juliet screamed through thick tears as Daniel’s rough hands reached down and lifted up her shirt, revealing her stomach. 

Elijah stopped in front of her, peering down, relishing in her fear. 

“This isn’t love,” Juliet cried, defeat seeping into her tone.

Her father smiled, a real smile this time. 

“Love is pain, my sweet Juliet. You just have to be strong enough to bear it,” he said softly. “It’s time you remember who you belong to.”

Then he brought the end of the poker down on Juliet’s stomach.

Juliet felt a scream crawl up her throat, but she couldn’t hear a thing. 

The ringing in her ears drowned out everything around her. The smell of her burning flesh met her nose just as dark spots began to dance across her vision. 

As the darkness consumed her, a familiar face flashed before eyes. In her current state, Juliet could not recall the man’s name, but she felt warm, and she felt safe as he gently wiped her tears with his rough, calloused fingers. 

……………………………………………..

Joel’s POV:

It didn’t take them long to reach Juliet’s house. No one stopped them as they darted through the quiet streets, Ethan staggering to keep up with Joel. 

The house looked different in the dark. It was still old and crumbling, but without the twilight sky bathing it in a soft blue light, the house no longer looked sad.

It looked dangerous. 

They staggered to a stop at the bottom of the porch steps, the lights in the house were on so they kept to the shadows. 

Joel’s fingers clenched and unclenched in a constant, repetitive movement. Joel had fed every bit of fear and regret churning in his gut into his anger, and now it crawled over his skin, desperate for release. 

Ethan signalled with his head towards a side door, Joel nodded and took the lead. He didn’t trust Ethan. He didn’t trust that he could protect Juliet, he didn’t trust his motives. 

But Ethan knew this house, so Joel had to trust that he knew how to get them in. 

“They’ll be in the basement,” Ethan mouthed to Joel before they reached the side door.

Joel frowned, horror starting to overpower his rage. But there was no time to question how Ethan knew this, or what that meant for Juliet. Joel just bit the skin inside his cheek and reached his hand towards the door handle. 

It was unlocked.

He turned back to Ethan before entering the house. It was two against two, Joel wasn’t worried about gunning down the men that surrounded Juliet. Joel just wanted to be the one to deal with Elijah. A single bullet was too easy for him. 

Killing was not often a pleasure for Joel, it was always a necessity. But he knew he would enjoy watching Elijah bleed. 

The house was silent, eerily so. 

Joel began to feel that sense of wrongness from earlier. He didn’t listen to his gut the first time, he wouldn’t make that mistake again. They had to hurry. 

With another sharp nod from Joel, Ethan moved through the house until he reached a door in the middle of the hall. Then he stepped back, darting his gaze up to Joel’s face. 

Joel gripped his shotgun, his fingers flexing across the handle. Ethan echoed his movements, then squeezed his eyes shut for a second. Joel noted the nervous action. He wondered what Ethan had seen in this basement that made him so fearful of it. 

Without another thought, Joel, in one powerful movement, kicked open the basement door and began his descent into the dark room. His heartbeat quickened in anticipation of a fight. 

Time slowed as Joel moved down the steps, his head turning to try and get a sense of the layout but it was so dark. 

The first thing he noticed was the smell.

It was something rotten, but he couldn’t place it. 

It didn’t matter anyways, he wasn’t able to give it much thought, because a man rounded the corner, pulling his gun out of his back pocket. 

Joel fired a bullet through his skull before he got the chance. 

Time continued to slow as Joel reached the bottom step, his gun still out in front of him. Ethan’s presence looming behind him.

Moving around the corner into the room, the smell increased, burning Joel’s nose. If he wasn’t being driven by pure survival instincts at that moment, he would have gagged. 

Another step into the room and Joel spotted a dwindling fire at the back wall, and a man standing next to it, his hands in the air, his mouth open. 

Another step and Joel noticed the chair sitting opposite the fire, and the bent figure of a person hunched over, their head at an unnatural angle. 

Another step and the man scrambled for the poker by the fire, branding it like a weapon.

Another step and Joel rounded on the figure in the chair.

With one sharp inhale, Joel realised that the figure in the chair was a girl.

With one skipped heartbeat, Joel recognised the bruised and battered face of Juliet.

With one glance downwards, Joel noticed the horrific amount of blood pooled around her torso, dripping onto the floor. 

With one strangled gasp, Joel knew that she was dead. 

Time picked up again, moving at a rapid pace all at once. Joel whipped his gaze from Juliet’s body to the man by the fire. Elijah.  

Joel didn’t hear Ethan’s steps pound behind him. Joel didn’t hear Ethan’s pained scream. Joel didn’t hear his own guttural cry as he threw himself at Juliet’s father. 

He dropped his gun, letting it swing from the strap on his shoulder. Joel’s hands knocked the poker from Elijah’s grip then met his neck with a brutal intensity, slamming him against the fireplace, pinning him against the stone wall above it. 

Elijah reached his hands up, clawing at Joel’s arms. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. 

Joel’s face shook with fury, his lips pulled back to bare his teeth. He was snarling at the man in his grip, practically growling as he increased the pressure in his hands. Joel was an animal, his instincts had taken over. 

Some distant part of Joel’s brain heard Ethan yelling, screaming. But Joel wasn’t listening, the only thing he was focused on was the man in front of him begging for air. 

Juliet’s face flashed in his mind, and he pushed harder, practically crushing her father’s throat.

This was the man who had killed her, this was the sick, disgusting man who had made her life a living hell. And there he was, writhing and choking in Joel’s grip. 

But it wasn’t enough for Joel. 

The image of Juliet’s neck, bent at an unthinkable angle, and the blood, god, the blood that poured from her.

Joel wanted, no, needed, to watch Elijah bleed too.

He released his grip so suddenly that Juliet’s father almost fell into the fire, but Joel caught him before that happened. With one hand tight on Elijah’s shoulder, lifting him up, Joel pulled back his other arm and fired his fist into his face. 

Once

Twice…

Joel lost count after twenty or so hits. 

Elijah’s face was unrecognisable, but Joel couldn’t even see him anymore. It was Juliet’s face that covered his vision. He watched her roll her eyes at him, he watched her lips twitch into a reluctant smile, he watched her head tilt back as she laughed. 

Joel knew Elijah was dead, but he kept punching. 

Blood splattered his face, and his fist burned, but he kept punching. 

Joel kept punching because he knew that if he stopped, he’d have to turn around and face Juliet’s lifeless body. He’d have to look at her face and know that she would never smile again, never roll her eyes at his grumpy remarks, never laugh with a recklessness he wished he could imitate. 

Ethan’s yelling started to seep into Joel’s consciousness, growing louder. But he wasn’t screaming for Juliet, he was screaming at Joel. 

Joel pulled back from Elijah, breathing heavy. How weak, how pathetic he looked as a bloody mess resembling a man. 

Joel glanced down at the small fire, still burning quietly, then pushed Elijah’s body into the weakening blaze. Joel watched as the fire started to lick at his skin, blistering his flesh. 

The smell struck his nose, and Joel whipped around towards Juliet’s body. That was what he had smelled when he entered the basement. Joel didn’t think that more rage could coat around his heart, but somehow this realisation brought forth a wave of anger he didn’t even think his body was capable of containing. 

“Lift up her shirt,” Joel commanded with a lifeless voice, staring numbly at Juliet’s bloodied torso. 

Ethan was still shouting, but Joel continued to block him out. 

“Lift up her shirt,” he demanded again, louder this time, harsher.

Ethan carefully reached around Juliet and rolled up her shirt.

There it was, barely visible beneath the layer of thick blood, a brand marking her skin. E.M.

Joel ached to turn around, pull Elijah out of the fire and continue pummelling his face. But as he looked closer, a muscle in his very tight jaw jumped when he noticed that, despite the amount of blood, the brand was the only wound on Juliet’s stomach.

Joel’s eyes darted to Ethan, who had cut the ropes on Juliet’s wrists and ankles free, and now sat on his knees with his fingers latched on the underside of Juliet’s raw wrist. 

“She’s alive,” Ethan croaked out. “I can feel her pulse, it’s weak but it’s there.”

Ethan’s words washed over Joel and he staggered backwards. Relief was quick and brutal, but it did nothing to ease his horror. Juliet sat broken before him. Not dead, but nearly. Almost. 

“Get up,” Joel barked out, gesturing for Ethan to stand and move away from Juliet. 

When he didn’t move quick enough, Joel snarled, “get the fuck away from her,” in his lifeless voice. His eyes didn’t leave Juliet’s face. She was so pale, and covered in blood and bruises. 

Ethan scrambled away from her and Joel moved forward, his steps were heavy, like he was wading through water. But his hands, though fractured and bruised, were so gentle as they slid behind her back, tucking under her legs and lifting her broken body to his chest. Her head rolled onto his shoulder and Joel tilted his chin down towards her. His eyes shuttered closed as his stubbled jaw grazed over Juliet’s dark hair. 

He kept watching her until he felt her chest rise and fall with a shallow breath. Joel almost choked with relief. Then the terror snuck back in. She was so cold, and there was so much blood. They had to get out of here, get somewhere safe. 

Joel couldn’t spend another second in this basement.

Time slowed to a crawl again as he walked the fourteen steps out of the basement, Juliet’s fragile body shivering against him.

Joel vowed, with each step he climbed, that he would never again let Juliet out of his sight, never again allow her to suffer, until she begged him herself to go.

If Juliet allowed it, he would burn anything and anyone who ever dared to hurt her.

______________________

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby @http-paprika

[jadewolf22]

Shoot An Arrow Through My Heart Pt.2

Fem!OC (Adriella Selmy) x Brienne of Tarth 

Series Warnings: Men being disgusting, mentions of abusive siblings, gore, death, violence, detailed mentions of murder, mention of parent deaths, slander towards women, fighting (physical & verbal), harsh language, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, ect... (Let me know if I missed any!!!)

A/n: This fic mixes scenes from the show and book but follows the same timeline as the show. Character ages are from the show. I have no clear vision for this story so try to bear with me here. Not sure how long this series will become; might just keep going until I get bored of it.

Word Count: 2,179

Adriella rode for three days straight with no food nor rest. News of Lady Catelyn’s party returning to Riverrun was in the forethought of her mind. If Brienne was with them Adriella would not risk stopping and allowing the company to move on again before she could reach them. Her ass and legs ached from the constant harsh riding but she would not slow her pace unless her mare showed signs of tiring. She was desperate to learn what had become of her friend, the thought alone keeping her awake through the long nights. A sigh of relief fell from her lips when Adriella, at last, came within sight of Riverrun. Pushing her horse just a bit further, Adriella approached the bridge, eyes scanning nervously for any sight of the tall blonde she sought. She paused on the bridge when her eyes caught sight of three bodies hanging over the side of the wall. Adriella only looked at them long enough to assess that they were not Brienne before attempting to shove the sight from her mind and move on.

“Who goes there?!” A bannerman called from the ballister overhead, nearly scaring Adriella out of her skin.

She looked up, using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she responded, “ My name is Adriella Selmy.”

“What is your business in Riverrun, Adriella Selmy?” the bannerman questioned, his tone indicating that he did not believe she was who she claimed to be.

“I am looking for a friend.” Adriella answered honestly, “Last I’d heard she was traveling with the Lady Catelyn.”

“You’ve arrived just in time it seems.” the man told her, a smug smile playing on his lips as he looked down upon her. Only now did she regret choosing a corset as her armor rather than a proper breastplate, “The Lady and her party arrived just before you. They’re still unloading in the courtyard.”

“Thank you.” 

With a snap of the reins in her hand, Adriella rode through the gate, dismounting in the courtyard where a large sum of people were gathered, chatting in soft tones and unloading tents and knapsacks from horses. Stones crunched beneath Adriella’s boots as she navigated the crowded courtyard, her eyes sharp as she searched for the one face she longed to see. Relief washed over her when she finally spotted Brienne, standing tall and stoic among the soldiers. Without thinking, Adriella ran to her, heart pounding with a mix of desperation and hope; hope that her sight was not making a fool of her.

“Brienne!” Adriella’s voice cracked as she called out.

Brienne turned at the sound of her name, her expression shifting from surprise to disbelief when she caught sight of Adriella. Without hesitation, Adriella threw her arms around Brienne in a fierce embrace, nearly knocking the blonde warrior to the ground. 

“Oh, thank the gods, you’re alright.” she breathed, arms tightening around Brienne’s shoulders.

“Adriella? You—what are you doing here?” Brienne’s voice wavered as she gave Adriella an awkward hug in return, completely unused to this sort of affection.

Adriella pulled back slightly, locking eyes with Brienne. “After what happened to Renly, I went looking for you. Cain said that the others were saying you’d murdered him, but I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t believe you’d do something like that, not after everything. I thought maybe someone else killed Renly and you to make it look like you betrayed him.”

“You think I would have done such a thing?” Brienne asked as her face hardened, lips pressing into a grim line, as if she hadn’t heard Adriella confess her worries.

“No!” Adriella’s voice rang out with conviction. “I knew it was a lie, Brienne. You wouldn’t betray someone you swore to protect. That's part of why I came. I had to know what really happened… I had to know if my fears were real… If you were dead…”

“I’m fine.” Brienne practically deadpanned, still in utter shock that Adriella seemed to care so much for her. Sure, the two of them had become close, but Brienne couldn’t believe that anyone—let alone someone like Adriella—would actually care to know if she was alright.

“What happened that night?” Adriella questioned, pulling back a bit to look Brienne in the eye, another act the blonde was still attempting to become accustom to, “I saw Renly’s body… and Emmon Cuy and Robar Royce… I thought you were with him?”

Brienne hesitated, then let out a heavy breath. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Adriella shook her head, “You’re not a liar, Brienne. I have no reason to doubt anything you say.”

Brienne swallowed hard before speaking. “It was Stannis. He used dark magic—a shadow that took Renly’s life right in front of me… I couldn’t protect him… Emmon and Robar came in when I screamed. They thought I’d killed Renly and so they… they attacked me… They would have killed me if I hadn’t killed them first…” when Adriella stayed quiet Brienne seemed to take it as a sign that she didn’t believe her and tried to pull away, muttering, “You must think I’ve gone mad—”

Adriella’s chest constricted at the fact that Brienne thought she didn’t believe her, tightening her grip on the woman to keep her from pulling away. “I do believe you, Brienne.” she said firmly, “This world is full of horrors that defy reason. I know you would never betray Renly.”

“Adriella, I—”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Lady Catelyn, her eyes taking in the scene with quiet curiosity as the two women practically jumped apart. “Brienne,” she greeted with a nod, her gaze shifting to Adriella. “And who might you be?”

Brienne straightened, her tone taking on a rare warmth despite the conversation with Adriella not moments ago. “This is Adriella Selmy, my lady. Ser Barristan Selmy’s niece. She’s a fierce fighter, and a good friend. If there’s one person in this world that you can trust, it’s her.”

Lady Catelyn’s eyebrows lifted slightly in recognition, glancing at Adriella again, studying her features closely in search of a resemblance. “Ser Barristan’s niece, you say? That is a name that carries great respect.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Adriella said, inclining her head respectfully. 

Lady Catelyn returned the gesture, her face impassive but her tone kind as she spoke, “If you are anything like your uncle, I would be glad to have you in my service. Brienne has already sworn herself to me, and I could use another strong sword at my side.”

Adriella’s expression remained steady as she replied, “I appreciate your offer, my lady, but I will not swear myself into the service of another. I choose my loyalties, and they are not given lightly. As long as Brienne stays, so will I, but my oath is to my own honor, not to any lord or lady.”

Lady Catelyn regarded her thoughtfully before giving a slow nod of approval. “A woman who keeps her own counsel is a rare thing. You’re welcome among us, Adriella.”

With that, Lady Catelyn turned and moved away, leaving the two women alone again. Brienne looked down at Adriella, her expression softening again. “You didn’t have to come all this way just for me.” she said meekly.

Adriella smiled up at her, nudging her in the ribs playfully. “And leave you to deal with all this alone? Never. Besides, without you, there’s no way I would be staying back at the camp with all those men. Who would protect me with you gone?”

Brienne allowed a rare smile to tug at her lips as Adriella let out a light chuckle, the two of them following Lady Catelyn into the castle. The Lady stopped for a moment to speak with her father while the two women stood guard outside before showing them to one of the castle's many rooms.

“I do hope you ladies won’t mind sharing a room,” Lady Catelyn said gently as she led the two into a room, “With the castle so full we do not have many to spare and I do not think either of you would wish to sleep amongst the men.”

“We got along fine in Renly’s camp, my lady, but the gesture is appreciated. And who are we to turn down a small comfort such as this when it’s presented to us?” Adriella said in thanks, inclining her head towards Lady Catelyn. Again, the lady returned the gesture before leaving the two alone to get settled. 

Adriella and Brienne both took a look around the room. It was spacious enough with a large bed, a chaise lounge with a small oak table before it, a small bookshelf, a decent sized wardrobe, and a chair off in one corner. The two looked to each other with the same question in their eyes, the ocean blue meeting cold iron; who was going to take the bed? 

“You take the bed,” Adriella decided, settling the argument before it could even start as she moved to set her knapsack down on the chaise lounge, “There’s no way your frame is going to fit on this thing.” 

As much as Brienne wanted to protest, she knew Adreilla was right. Her monstrous frame was far too large for the piece of furniture so, reluctantly, she moved to the bed and began to unpack. A silence fell between the two as it came time for supper, neither of them sure what to say to the other. It had been easy to speak freely with each other before, to talk of past experiences and such but now, to Adriella, it seemed as though she was no longer with the Brienne she knew. This new Brienne was stoic and quiet, never speaking unless spoken too first, and giving the most basic of responses. She was a shell of the woman Adriella had met almost a week prior, but Adriella understood why. She too knew what it felt like to witness a loved one die, though the death of her parents had not been near as horrific as Renly’s. Even so, no one-especially not a nine year old girl-should have to watch their parents die, struggling to breathe as their throats slowly swelled shut… Adriella understood the want to shut down and build up walls so tall and thick no one would ever see how much she hurt inside, to relive the moment again and again, looking for a way she could’ve changed the outcome even when there was nothing that could have been done. Adriella wanted to console her friend, but she also knew that no words would help ease the ache, especially not when it was still so fresh. And so she let Brienne be, hoping that she would come to her when she was ready. 

When it came time for supper, the two ate with Lady Catelyn at the high table, overlooking the hall. The atmosphere there was no different than the dining tent in Renly’s camp. Here most thoughts of war were drowned out by ale and thoughts of home. Singers took turns belting out one ballad or another, some of them sweet and cheerful, others melancholy and grim. Adriella watched the men and serving girls quietly from her pace at the table, only looking away to tear off a bite of bread or cut a portion of her meat. At one point, she stole a glance at Brienne, frowning at the sight of the woman’s plate, still nearly as full as it had been an hour ago, her drink practically untouched. 

“You need to eat,” she said as she sipped on her ale, her voice firm though still gentle, “Starving yourself will help no one. Least of all Lady Catelyn and yourself. How can you expect to defend her if you do not keep yourself at full strength?”

“I’m fine,” Brienne grumbled, eyes transfixed on the table as she reached for her water, taking the smallest sip before setting the goblet down again, “I’m just not hungry.”

“Eat.” Adriella said again firmer this time, turning to look at Brienne, “Your body will thank you later.”

Brienne growled, her hand clenching into a fist as she repeated, “I’m not hungry.”

“If you think I’m going to sit here and watch you starve you’re sorely mistaken, Brienne.” Adriella had had enough. Sulking in silence she could allow, but she would not let her friend ruin her health over a man who held no love for her, “You will eat of your own accord or I will force the food down your throat right here in the middle of the hall.”

“Adriella—”

“Choose.”

Brienne pondered the demand a moment before sighing in defeat, slowly tearing into her meal under Adriella’s watchful eye. Adriella hated to be so stern with Brienne in her grief, but she had seen it destroy one too many people. If she had a chance to save others from its grasp, she would.

[artistesoiree]

Nightfall in Sunridge Ranch

Chapter 1

{'70s Jack Daniels x Fem!OC)

Chapter 2

Rating: Mature Warnings: Mentions of blood and draining blood (she's a vampire, I feel it's a given), drug mention, mc is a bit eerie and her thoughts can be a bit troubling, Likely incorrect things about the 70s and Paris, France, as I was born in '02 and haven't been outside the PNW since I was born, Jack's too suave for his own good and probably shouldn't flirt with vampires, I hope he isn't OOC? Veronica's maker is interesting…(and is named after my favorite IWTV character) but I'll get into that in later chapters, takes place in the late 70s in a made-up Texan town WC: 3.8k

A/N:

Howdy, y'all! I wanted to write this because I've been recently inspired to begin writing again. I was inspired by Interview with the Vampire, 70s Texas, little bit of Ethel Cains Album Preachers Daughter, and my own OCs. The writing might be rough, but I'm proud of it. It's told in the first-person POV, and I hope you guys like Veronica as much as I do. She's a wreck and a weirdo .Oh, and the introduction was inspired by the beginning of The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice.

headers by @/saradika

I am Veronica Sharpe. I am a vampire who stands six feet tall. I have been blessed with my mother's black curls and my father's family's white streak in it. I have my mother's pale complexion, cheekbones, plush lips, and aquiline nose. I have my father's slender green eyes. My father gave me his height, while my mother gave me the gift of a body with feminine curves. Over the years, while I have maintained my feminine body, I have gained muscle, which has dramatically complimented my figure. I am a strong woman. I am proud of that.

I was only twenty-one when I was turned in the year 1904. I lived in Paris, France, and several lovers sought my hand. One of them was my maker, Armand Sharpe. He was a tall man with a fine figure, and he loved his beautiful clothes and long silk like red hair. He collected art pieces and hung them in his home. He had found me painting in the Jardin des Plantes and asked kindly if he could buy one of my paintings. Armand loved his beautiful women; I was flattered to be one of them. 

He always talked about how I should be grateful that I remain eternally beautiful, that I will never age like most women, and that my youthful beauty will never leave. He always seemed too proud of it. And I am grateful, his beauty is like mine, eternal.

Although I am thankful that I remember my mother, father, and sister, Armand, when we first met, had made it possible for me to have photographs of my family. While I don’t remember my family name, I remember their names. My mother was named Estelle, and my father was Laurent, and my sister was Lucille. But sadly, I don’t know the name my mother gave me when I was born. I expressed my discomfort with not remembering my name to Armand, and he thought of a name for a moment until he told me that my name must be Véronique. It is a beautiful name, a one I deserve.

As time passed, my name changed from Véronique to Veronica. This transition came in ‘64 when a waitress misheard my name and called me Veronica in a thick southern California accent. She was a lovely gal. She was a Barbie blonde wearing a baby blue uniform, which suited her tanned skin tone. Her hair was styled like Farrah Fawcett's and smelled like Adorn Self-Styling Hair Spray. Veronica stuck. The transition was freeing from the name my maker and husband had given me. The name Armand would use to beckon me to his room was the name he would call with desire. 

I am very thankful to the waitress at that Los Angeles diner a couple of years ago; she gave me a new name, and may never know what it meant to me. I am sure Armand felt the same way, it is a gift to give a name to someone.

As I make my way along the winding Interstate 10 in Texas, the sky is painted with the last hues of the sunset, giving way to the emergence of countless stars. The radio fills the car interior with the nostalgic melody of John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads." This song has been the background to my travels for the past couple years. With my hand resting on the smooth, black leather steering wheel of my 1964 Ford Mustang, I tap my fingers in time to the music. The car, painted a deep raven black, seems to blend seamlessly with the night. Despite the darkness, I wear my circular black sunglasses with their delicate silver frame. It might strike some as odd to wear sunglasses at night, but I do so to conceal my naturally eerie and unnerving green eyes, a feature that has often drawn unnerving attention. 

I’ve never understood why they were unnerving. They’re my eyes; they’ve been green since childhood. Is there something I’m missing? Green is the color of the earth, why must I have to cover my beauty.

The fuel gauge on my dashboard is hovering dangerously close to empty, and as I glance out the window, a highway sign catches my eye. It reads, ‘Visit Sunridge Ranch, Texas! The Cowboy Capital of the USA!’ I find myself humming in response, realizing that not only do I need to refuel, but it might also be a good idea to find a place to stay for the night. The sun will rise soon, and although I won't burst into flames like in fiction, its rays will still leave me with a nasty sunburn, turning my pale skin red. It’s embarrassing. Armand would scold me like a child when I would come home red. As my husband, he often acted like a father, not my own. Oh no, he decided my father wasn't useful and took him away from me.

As I made my way into town, I was struck by its quaint charm and the subtle nods to its cowboy past. Before heading to the nearby motel, I decided to fill up my car with gas. As I approach the motel, I couldn't help but notice the small sign featuring a cowgirl riding a horse and the name "Desert Ranch Motel." It seems like a beautiful place to spend a day. The sign advertised a pool I plan to enjoy once the sun had set.

I hear the soft jingle of a bell as I push open the heavy wooden door to the front desk. Standing behind the counter is a woman who seems out of place in this ordinary setting. Her immaculate appearance and bored expression tell me she'd rather be anywhere else. I glimpse her name tag and see "Barbara" etched onto it. 

"Welcome to the Desert Ranch Motel, where the Old West meets comfort," she recites in a dry, monotone voice. "What kind of room are you looking for?"

The weirdest thing is that Barbara jumps when she looks up at me and tries to act as if she hadn't jumped. Am I creepy? Surely it cannot be my eyes, they cannot be creepy in this light. Was it my staring? My eyes burning into her.

As she asked if I was interested in the suite, I responded, "I will take the suite." I respond, there is nothing fancy about the way I said it. It was monotone. Following my response, she picked up the check-in book to check for its availability, or at least that's what I assumed she was doing.

"Sure... that'll be no problem," she says, keeping her pretty blue eyes on my figure as she checks the lodging book. That will be 15 dollars for the day," Barbara says uncertainly as I hand her the cash. She carefully notes my name in the lodging book and gracefully passes me the key. "The room is 28B. I hope you have a pleasant stay, ma'am," she says.

The prominent feature of the chain is a weathered cowboy pendant suspended from it, effortlessly enhancing the town's rustic charm and Western essence. I wonder who made it; it looks like an artist had a hand in making it. 

As I make my way down the hallway to 28B, the weight of my luggage is a reassuring reminder of the countless times I've journeyed down this similar hallway. I navigate the stairs quickly. Arriving at the end of the hallway, I reach for the doorknob and swing the door open. A smile spreads as I take in the view before me.

The wooden door creaks open as I enter the room, unveiling a spacious living area. The room features a sunken seating area adorned with vibrant patterned cushions encircling a central sunken pit that could double as a fire pit. The brick fireplace is the main focus, making everything warm and comfortable. 

Large windows flood the space with natural light, offering picturesque views of the pool outside. The high ceiling is adorned with several elegant hanging lights that glow warmly throughout the room. The inviting atmosphere makes it a pretty space to spend time and relax.

Behind the conversation pit, the bed steals the attention, decorated with a striking orange comforter and decorative pillows. The bedframe and nightstands complement each other, showcasing a matching wood. The clock on the nightstand displayed 3:02 am, signaling the impending arrival of dawn. Hungry from my long drive from San Antonio, I couldn't ignore the persistent itch of blood thirst at the back of my throat. As the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon, I felt the familiar hunger gnawing at my insides. It is different from a human's regular hunger pains; my stomach feels as if it’s going to turn inside out, and I might die. 

The craving for blood pounded through me, and I know I couldn't ignore it much longer. But living in this arid, desolate town presented a challenge—no nearby life sources could quench my thirst. Then it hit me: In such a deserted town, there is an option: to search for the presence of rats. Although I don't like the taste of rat blood, it satisfies my thirst for blood. Or perhaps the local diner could provide a solution. I could order a rare steak and let its rich blood juices satiate my hunger for the night. I always thrived while killing; there is something so satisfying about that iron-rich liquid spilling down my throat.

As I leave the dimly lit motel room, I check that my purse is securely slung over my shoulder. I mentally record the contents within—my wallet holding a substantial amount of cash, my ID, and the all-important hotel room key. Opening it, I make sure that my favorite perfume is safely nestled among the other items. Knowing I'll smell good despite the bloodbath I’m going to put myself through does put a smile on my face. 

I stroll across the road from the motel to The Kingsman Diner, relieved to see that it is open 24 hours a day. Knowing that no matter what time, I can always find a warm meal here is a comfort. Approaching the front door, I couldn't help but notice a small cluster of mice scurrying around towards the back of the diner.

Sneaking towards the back of the restaurant, I quickly grab a mouse and sink my fangs into its body. Draining the blood from it and tossing it into the garbage. I continue doing this to a few more mice, draining and tossing.  It is not human, but it will do for the night. I need to drink multiple in order to feel fine.

Lost in my bloodthirst, I fail to notice the creak of the back door swinging open. Suddenly, a gruff and low voice startles me from behind.

"Darlin, what are you doin’ near my garbage?" The man asks, and I freeze, realizing someone had caught me. I feel my heart racing as I quickly toss the mouse into the garbage and turned to face him. There was a little blood on my chin, and my hands are stained from the unsuccessful attempt to clean up the mess.

What am I doing? Did Armand’s lessons in cleanliness and manners exit my brain the first moment I stepped foot on American soil? I should vanish now. Wipe his memory, he never saw me.

But as I answered, "Nothing," he gave me a questioning look, and I’m grateful for the overhead light illuminating his face. He was very handsome, with a man in his forties with a strong, tall frame, warm brown eyes, and a mop of dark brown, short hair. A well-groomed mustache adorned his upper lip, adding to his cowboy appeal. He stood before me in well-worn jeans cinched with a leather belt, an apron over his chest, and a vibrant blue flannel shirt. He held a black Stetson cowboy hat in his hand, completing the look of a true cowboy. God, he has kind eyes, clean-shaven eyes, and a beautiful smile. And a confident swagger to him, Armand never really had that sort of confidence or swagger. He was quiet and foreboding. 

"Why do you have blood on your hands and chin there, Darlin?" The man asks, squinting his eyes and furrowing his brow as if trying to assess my appearance. My mind races as I desperately tried to come up with some sort of plausible excuse. "Were you drainin’ those rats?"

I stammer nervously in response, causing his brows to furrow even deeper. "I, uh, yes...?" I admit, my voice trembling slightly. "I may have taken ecstasy in my motel room. It seemed like a good idea at the time. In the past I loved to drink the blood on ecstasy, it feels lovely."

"Why in the world would drinkin’ rat blood even cross your mind as a good idea?" the handsome man asks, leaving me speechless. Incompetent to conjure a coherent response, I found myself unable to answer him. How about we forget this ever happened, and I whip up something to satisfy that hunger of yours?"

I nod eagerly, awaiting his following words. "What are ya in the mood for?"

"Can you make mashed potatoes and a rare steak? It's been far too long since I've had a meal like that, not since I left San Antonio," I tell him, wiping the extra blood on the sleeve of my black blouse. It won’t be seen anyway. His face cringes for a moment as I do that. God, he needs to stop staring at me.

As the man mulls over my request briefly, he gently scratches his chin and nodded in agreement. "Come on in. Why don't ya take a seat at the counter," he offered as we entered the cozy diner. "Maybe after you freshen up a bit..."

Pausing, I glance down at my hands and suddenly became conscious of my messy appearance. The fancy clothes I bought for myself have blood splatters on me, and my hair is nowhere near presentable. I should’ve washed up in my motel room. 

"Oh, excuse me, where can I find the restroom?" I ask, and he gestures towards the doors at the back of the diner, clearly marked 'Men' and 'Women.' 

"I'll be back. I'm sorry you had to see that, handsome stranger," I say to him with a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood. His chuckle is a welcome sound as my eyes wander up and down, finally landing on the name tag labeled ‘Jack’' "Jack, a handsome name for a handsome man," I remark, a twinkle in my eye, nervously laughing. Has it been this long since I’ve been around a man? He must think I'm an idiot. 

Jack’s chuckle resonates through the room, carrying a warmth that seems to surround the entire room. "Not a problem, darlin'," he says in a soothing, reassuring tone, his words comforting to my ears. He flashed a kind and friendly grin, and as he did, the well-earned wrinkles around his eyes deepened, adding character to his face. A rush of heat floods my cheeks, betraying the blush that crept up in response to his gaze. Sensing my reaction, he arched an eyebrow ever so slightly, his eyes shining with a knowing glint. 

Dieu qu'il est beau. (god he is handsome)

“I will be right back, Mr. Jack,” I chuckle nervously before heading toward the restroom. Mr. Jack?! Why would I call him that? Also, I says I would be back not even a minute before. Must I repeat myself like a babbling imbecile?!

I quickly went to the restroom, but the encounter was still fresh in my mind. As I stand in front of the mirror, I meticulously wash away the stains from my face and hands, taking care to remove every trace of the blood. It's hard to believe that my first impression of this rugged man was being covered in blood. I can't help but wonder what  Armand must think of me. I did always turn to him for advice. He was always a posed man; he would get angry when I wasn’t. 

But I do not remember even doing anything that vastly embarrassing with him. Did I do something wrong when I was with him? Have I always been this way, and he was helping me? Should I have not left him? I cannot act like a lady around a handsome man who saw me draining mice near his garbage. Well, not that it is a ladylike thing to do, but there are nicer ways of satisfying my thirst. But fuck being ladylike, Armand would use that word so often I never liked it.

Wait, that businessman wanted to get with me at that party in ‘71. Why am I realizing this now?  Have I always been this aloof? I need to do better.

“Bloody lady, ya doin’ alright?” I hear Mr. Jack from just outside the door, “You’ve been in there for twenty minutes or so,” 

“Sorry, I got lost in thought. I’ll be out in a minute!” I reply, and my cheeks redden due to my embarrassment. Splashing water on my face, I walk out of the restroom with a slightly embarrassed smile, rocking on my heels momentarily. “Sorry about that, it’s been a long day.” 

Mr. Jack chuckles again, “‘s alright, darlin’ you not from ‘round here, aintcha?” He asks as I sit down at the counter where he’s prepared my food. God, it looks delicious. Staring at him, a little confused, he smiles again. “You ain’t got an accent like us, ya almost sound European.”

“No, I’m not from around here. I was born in Paris, but I’ve been traveling alone for a while,” I reply, grabbing the fork he’s set out for me. He tilts his head, confused.

“Ya look lil young to be travelin’ for a while,”

“M-My…uhh-” I begin trying to find a good excuse: “My family ages well. I am in my thirties,” Okay, that’s not a bad excuse, and it’s true I do not age. Thanks, Armand; one of the only good things about this gift he gave me. He still deserves to die, though. 

"Well, I’ll be damned ya do look good, sugar,” Jack tells me with a suave smile on his face, “that white streak in ya hair is real pretty too, them eyes of yours are real pretty too. I always liked green eyes on ladies,” 

“Why thank you, Jack. You sure know how to make a lady blush,” I giggle momentarily, hiding my face behind my hand, and while taking a bite of the steak he made me, and god if it isn’t delicious. That cowboy sure knows how to make a meal. 

He and I both chat for a while and continue eating the meal he had prepared. He pauses for a moment before asking, “You says you were born in Paris, that meanin you french?” 

“I suppose?” I reply, thinking for a moment. “I grew up there, my parents were born there too. But I have not been there for good while, I am losing my accent.” 

“Clearly, you barely sound French anymore, sugar. Are you still speakin’ the language?” he asks, and I nod with a bright smile.

“Oui, j'aime toujours cette langue,” I say, and his eyebrows raise. Is he impressed? “I say, yes, I still love the language.” 

Jack chuckles as he takes my empty plate and cleans it quickly while I wait at the counter. Should I wait for him to come back? Or should I leave? This feels weird. My legs begin to sway underneath the counter, waiting for him to come back, my chin resting on the backs of my hands. 

He comes back a couple of minutes later, and I've been looking around the diner, taking in the details of it all. It’s a very cozy diner. The warm lighting adds to that. If I lived here, I would be a regular, I know it. 

“How long you in town sugar?” He asks, snapping me out of my daydream. 

“As long as I want, I tend to keep myself in different towns for a few days before leaving. But I can stay in a spot for months if I’d like. Why do you ask?”

“I wanna offer you a job, if you’d like it. It would be watiressin’ but it pays good with tips.”

My eyes widen for a moment. Is he serious? His expression says he isn’t; extra cash would be nice. I have been running out of it since I left France and stole an excellent sum of Armand’s fortune. It would be nice to stay in one spot long and not be on the run. He also did find me with blood all over me. Why is he offering me a job? Did he not find me in the back with blood all over me..he does not have good awareness.

“I like that a lot. It would be nice to have extra money and save up a good sum.” I say to him, and his lips curl into an almost sly smile. He looks too mischievous with that mustache of his, but that is a reason he’s a joy to be around. He is much better than Armand, so much better.

“Sounds like a plan darlin’ let me get ya the uniform,” He tells me, walking to a closet in the back and coming back with two things, a red dress, it has short sleeves and seems that it would end at my knees. What’s in his other hand is an apron, simple enough. “Here’s the uniform, keep your hair in a bun and simple earrings. You got shoes that could go with it?”

Pausing, I think back to the clothes in my luggage, more specifically, the shoes I’ve been carrying with me. There are a couple of options, and others that would never work for that uniform.

“Would a pair of red-heeled sandals work?” I ask, unsure if that’s what he is asking for. 

“I believe they would darlin’. You can wear those with the uniform. Have you ever waitressed before?”

“When I was in Paris, I worked briefly for a cafe. Is this similar to that?”

“You’ll do great sugar. Now go get some rest and I’ll see you here at 2pm okay?” He asks, and I nod quickly, my arms gathering the uniform he handed me in my arms. 

When I leave the diner, the sky is empty; spare it for the stars sprinkling in the sky. This town is eerily quiet. Paris was loud, and so was Los Angeles. I like quiet; I've always liked quiet. Maybe I should stay here. Until Armand uses his fledglings to find me again, then I will run. I do miss him, the chase is more fun knowing he misses me. But for now, I will stay. 

I hope y'all enjoyed it! I do plan to have more chapters, as this is just the beginning; I've got a bunch planned!

Taglist: @morallyinept @604to647

[jazeswhbhaven]

could you write something about astra and cain meeting when cain is a child, like 10? astra is already in a relationship with satan and mammon, and satan decides its time for her to meet his son with his ex leviathan

it could be considered an au in an au, if theyre not supposed to be in the same universe

a request....FOR MY OCS?????? *queue Gunter gif*

YES ^^ I will write a little thing for them.

"Why are my eyes covered?" Astra asks Satan as she walks forward with her hands outstretched.

"It's a surprise. Just wait." He says, a mischievous grin across his face and his body shaking with excitement.

There was a "secret" that Satan had been hiding from Astra ever since they made their relationship official. There was even a strange thing between him and Leviathan the other day that made her question this secret even more. Not to mention the nasty glare received from the envious king of Hades.

She had to know, and the anxiety racked her brain. What could he be hiding that was so bothersome even Leviathan didn't want him to tell her? It couldn't be that bad, right?

Suddenly Satan removes his palms from Astra's face, moving to her shoulders to stop her from running into the purple door in front of them.

"Okay. You can look now."

Astra opens her eyes, instantly confused by the door and how it looked extremely different than the rest of the palace. Normally, all the doors were open and you could see inside everyone's room. Only in Hades were most of the doors closed. And this made Astra slightly nervous.

"What...I mean where does this lead to, Satan?" She asks while rubbing her elbows trying to back away from the ominous presence she felt.

"Open the door. He won't hurt you."

"He?"

Astra was even more nervous, this couldn't be another noble that wasn't mentioned. Most of them were out and friendly in Gehenna. Even the ones she had yet to run into weren't in hiding. Whoever was behind this door clearly didn't want to be bothered.

"Go on, open it." Satan says again, rubbing her shoulders gently until he shoves her into the door without warning.

There was no need for her to turn the handle, the entrance flying open on it's own and her tumbling down on the ground with a rolling thud. She sits up, the room dim at first as she focused, but the lights flicker on one by one. In the middle of the room sat a coffin, no larger than the size fit for a child.

"Uh...Satan what the hell is this?" Astra asks, crawling backward toward the nearby wall. She looks around, seeing that the room is furnished with a desk, pictures, books, and strange creations. There was even an unfinished painting in the corner of Lucifer.

Satan simply chuckles to himself and walks over to the coffin without a pause in his step. He lifts the top of it, calling to the person or thing that is inside.

"You're too old for naps Cain, wake up."

Astra stares in silence as the coffin stirs, a small growl and grumble echoing in the room. Suddenly a small head pops up, tiny horns similar to Leviathan's shape, and fluffy messy hair as thick and full as Satan's. The color of it though was reminiscent of Leviathan's.

The small devil stretches and groans again, opening up his mouth to show a mouthful of sharp teeth and a forked tongue snaking out dramatically.

"Dad, don't wake me up so suddenly. You'll die." the small voice was adorable, quiet, soft. The exact opposite of the energy he gave off and how he looked. He gazed fixed on Astra, all three of his eyes squinting in distaste.

"Who is that woman? My food?"

Astra flinches, insulted that this child immediately thought of her as something to snack on. Who did he think he was?

"No. That's Astra. Remember when I told you about Solomon? That's his daughter."

"Oh, him. Does this mean that she is going to be my bride or something. She's too young." Cain yawns again and sits up, his small body rising from the coffin as he jumps out of it with ease.

"Hey! Don't you mean I'm too old?" Astra retorts as she stands and puts her hands on her hips. "You've got quite the mouth on you for a child."

Cain stares at her stoically, waving his hand at her as if dismissing her statement.

"I said what I said. You're human. What are you like 30 or something? I'm nearly 200 years old." He pauses and then looks at his fingers while mumbling before staring at her again. "That's 10 years old in human years, so you are correct that you'd be older than me. But we're in Hell. In case you haven't noticed."

Satan thumps the smaller devil on the head with his finger, grinding his teeth in annoyance. "Don't be rude, Cain. Astra is with me."

"Great, a stepmother who's an idiot. Thanks dad."

The sarcastic remark has Satan fuming, but he holds back, as if trying to give the child a chance to apologize to Astra or just simply shut up. But as most children, of course he wasn't about to do either of the sort. Astra however was still stuck on how he kept referring to Satan as "dad". The closer she looked, she could see the resemblance but the other features...were so much like...

"Satan did you uh, how do I say this around a child..."

"I have two dads, the one who gave birth to me is not here right now. It's not that hard of a concept, were you dropped on your head?" Cain crossed his arms as he steps forward, examining Astra like a science experiement.

"I was trying to be appropriate but maybe I shouldn't, since this is Hell after all. Screw it, Satan did you knock up Leviathan?" Astra says what was lingering on the tip of her tongue ever since the small devil in front of her started speaking. The condescending tone, the arrogant attitude had Leviathan written all over it. He also had such a calm and soft voice, instead of confident and mischievous like Satan.

"Yes Astra, before you there was Leviathan. This child was the result of that relationship and I enjoy every second of raising him. When he's being quiet." Satan jokes playfully, walking over to ruffle Cain's hair who titled his head away after a few seconds.

Astra stands in disbelief, filled with questions on their relationship and the fact that no one mentioned that devils could get pregnant. As far as she was told it was Lilith who created devils, and with her missing once Solomon and God went away...how was this possible?

"So dad, what did you want since you woke me up. To meet her? It's useless that you did that. I want to go to papa's now." Cain ignores Astra and walks over to the wardrobe in his room, grabbing clothes to change into. Satan rolls his eyes and turns to Astra, smiling as he points back at Cain proudly.

"You see what I'm capable of? That's why I wanted to show him off. It's important that you know what's possible so in the future if you ever think about it-"

"No siblings. I don't want them. Especially not from her." Cain snaps, the venom practically dripping from his words. Astra frowns and taps her foot, clearly fed up with the younger devil's attitude.

"Listen here mister. First, I'm not 30, just wanted to clarify that. Second, if I want to have little hellspawns with Satan or Mammon I will gladly do so. It's my body."

While Satan was grinding his teeth at the Mammon mention, Cain turns his head slowly with a scary expression on his face. He seemed calm but at the same time if he wanted to tear her throat out he would. With no doubt this was the chaotic energy of having both parents with a temper like no other.

"Your body is a consistent rotting corpse. Dad would be lucky if any kind of life manifested in it."

He turns his head around, Satan now truly upset at his words as he charges forward to confront him.

"Cain, apologize. Now." He growls, trying his best not to kick his son's ass. Cain ignores him, only continuing to change his clothes and not caring there were others in the room. Astra looks away, baffled by this child's clear disdain for her. It almost sounded like jealousy...more than him disliking her just for the sake of it.

Astra knew this kind of talk, remembering when Minhyeok was being rude to his older brother each time he asked for the three of them to play together. Minhyeok didn't hate his brother, he just didn't want to share her with him. Perhaps, this was the same with Cain not wanting to share Satan's attention.

"Cain...you will apologize or I won't allow you to go to Hades." Satan's tone is more firm now, but he continues to try and stay calm. Anyone knew that if this were anyone else their ass would be sore for days from just one swift kick. Astra admired how he could hold himself back, something she didn't get to see often.

"Satan, boobear. Let me try." Astra says gently, rubbing the small of Satan's back to calm him down. Satan stares at her, still grinding his teeth as he watches. As she approached the now dressed Cain, she lowers her voice and gets down to his level waiting until he turns around to look him in the face.

For the moment Astra was speechless seeing how all three of his eyes locked on to her with an emotion she couldn't detect, but by the redness forming on his cheeks, perhaps he didn't expect her to be right behind him.

"Why are you so close, human?" Cain's voice is still calm but less hostile than before.

"Cain, I know I'm not a devil. I know that it's weird to meet me and basically find out that your dad is uh seeing someone that isn't your other parent. But I'm not going to steal his attention away from you. You're still his son, so let's be friends huh?" Astra reaches out her hand with a soft smile on her face. Cain looks down at her hand and extends his tiny palm to it, touching her fingertips gently in silence.

"See, I won't hurt you..." Astra says quietly.

Cain suddenly pulls her hand to his face, curious and feeling the warmth against his cheeks. Astra smiles more, wondering if progress is being made, that is until Satan yanked her away only seconds after this moment. Astra didn't see it, but something from Cain's coffin was snaking it's way to her ankles almost wrapping around them. Once found out, the tentacles slither back into the void, the coffin shutting on its own.

"Pity. He was hungry." Cain blinks and walks past a terrified Astra and angry Satan as he exits the room.

"So much for first impressions...the little shit tried to kill me." Astra gasps as she rubs her chest.

"He does that. I lost one of my palace workers recently because Cain didn't like his tone when speaking to me."

"He's...oddly protective of you."

"Cain doesn't like it when people disrespect me or interfere with our bonding time. I find it adorable. Isn't he cute?" Satan looks down at Astra, his gaze beaming with "proud dad" energy. "He's mad at me. This is just a tantrum."

"Plotting to kill your dad's girlfriend is just a tantrum? I'd hate to see how he gets when he's actually mad." Astra says while rubbing her throat nervously.

"Oh, he's the nastiest little gremlin when he's mad. A fourth of the palace was cursed with this black tar that dissolves bones in seconds if you step in it. Only the red lumps who can fly were able to clean it up." Satan smiles, also laughing at the memory while Astra stares at him with wide eyes.

"Uh, what caused that?"

"Sitri told him to clean his room."

"That's it?!"

"Yup."

Satan grins and takes Astra's hands in his while kissing her forehead. "He'll like you, Astra. The fact that he didn't immediately send you to a spiraling void means he didn't hate you."

"Oh...that's comforting..."

Astra stood in Satan's embrace, as he continued to plant soft kisses on her face to cheer her up. The interaction with Cain had started off rocky, but she was more that determined to get to know him if she wanted her relationship to stay steady with Satan.

"What about Mammon?" Astra asks as her lover pulls back from her neck. "Does he know about Cain?"

Satan scoffs and gestures vaguely around the room. "He paid for this room to be built. Paid for the custom coffin and any future ones once he outgrows this one."

"That's good, right? I wouldn't expect anything less."

"It's annoying. I'm one who helped made him. That bastard just throws money around. He probably sees Cain as his son too."

"I think you should let him help. It sounds like he's been doing this before I even arrived in Hell. We know what happened to Mammon's childhood, he...probably just wants the best for Cain."

Astra wrapped her arms around Satan, placing a soft peck on his lips as a peace offering. He growls, reluctantly admitting that she was right. Mammon had been there since the beginning, and feeding a growing devil wasn't an easy feat. That king may annoy him, but when it came to helping him when he most needed it, Mammon was always there.

"Let's go check on Cain." Satan says softly, opting to pick up Astra from the floor and carry her instead of letting her walk. As the two exit the room, a small glowing ball pulses on Cain's desk...the image of an angry Leviathan appearing in the cloudy center of it.

There we go! I hope you like it anon. I know Cain is a brat here, but it would make sense, he just woke up, his dad is introducing him to some random human woman he's dating, and now she's trying to level with him and he's like...no. Lol. If you ever want more about them for this AU don't be shy to ask! I think it's fun adding him in to Astra's world.

[topazadine]

🐎OC Smash or Pass Tag 🎯

Thanks for the tag @mysticstarlightduck! I would totally befriend Dylan <3

In preparation for Pride Before a Fall, which features Uileac Korviridi being an idiot, let's take a look at this horrible creature so you can decide whether you want to bang him or not.

Art by Feddefar

Uileac is the MC in 9 Years Yearning and features in every story in the Eirenic Verses except for part 4. So unfortunately you are stuck with him.

Older brother of Cerie Korviridi, Uileac is married to Orrinir Relickim, fellow soldier. His parents were killed in a Sinan raid when he was 11, and he was sent off to the War Academy at age 12 to begin training after his distant relatives could no longer care for him. He and Cerie both started training for their respective professions - soldier and poet - very young, and it is all he has ever known.

Somewhere in the cosmic workshop, they custom-designed this bastard to become a devastating cavalryman: he is short and svelte with long legs, excellent aim, and keen eyesight. Uileac's delicate, almost effeminate face with big green eyes, long eyelashes, and soft leafy hair make him quite the alluring figure.

It's no wonder he found himself with a carousel of boyfriends while Orrinir was being a tsundere and pretending he wasn't utterly besotted.

But his lithe figure belies his strength. Don't get it twisted; Uileac is one of the best mounted archers in Breme, mostly because he practices like a fiend whenever he's not off drinking at the Bow and Bridle, getting some cardio in with Orrinir, or making sure his little sister isn't getting in trouble. He takes great pride in his physique and trains relentlessly to keep himself in excellent shape.

Personality-wise, Uileac embodies "still waters run deep." On the surface, he is calm, composed, a little distant, with a dry sense of humor. However, he is fiercely protective of his family, remembering all too well what it felt like to see his parents die in front of him. His palomino mare, Erix, is the light of his life, and he chose to be Rear Cavalry mostly so that she would be further away from the battle, where she's less likely to get hurt.

He'd do anything for those he loves, whether that's betraying his purpose as a soldier or switching sides in the endless war between Breme and Sina. His fury is terrifying when he finally lets loose; he has no problem beating a man to death with his bare hands if he feels it's necessary. That combination of control and utter monstrosity makes for a very dangerous enemy.

(And if you were his lover, you'd get the full force of his protection! Wink wink.)

Uileac is also extremely ambitious; his sole goal in life is to become Cavalry General and make his late parents proud of him. In small doses, this is admirable, but it can also lead him to become arrogant, stubborn, and dismissive of those he feels aren't working hard enough. He pushes himself to the limit and expects others to be just as competitive.

So overall:

Pros

Very handsome (duh)

Loyal

Caring

Athletic

Ambitious

Protective

Controlled

Composed

Methodical

Hardworking

Quick-witted

Cons

Prideful

Stubborn

Dismissive

Possessive

Overly critical

Close-minded

Sharp-tongued

Hard to get to know

Aggressive when set off

Let's assume you met The Man before he fell in love with his husband. You taking a bite?

Be sure to leave your comments why in reblogs!

Tumblr tag list: @kuebiko-writing, @ryns-ramblings, @cain-e-brookman, @halfbit, @macabremoons,

@theverumproject, @aquadestinyswriting, @urlocalwitch555, @sarahswriting, @drchenquill,

@davycoquette, @aalinaaaaaa, @gioiaalbanoart, @theaistired,

@somethingclevermahogony, @wyked-ao3, @avaseofpeonies, @physalian

[stitchpunk1]

Just another oc idea I have knocking around in my skull which I shall put under a cut for Amazing Digital Circus spoilers.

Her name is Bug and she’s a little pawn. As she grows she’ll change into different chess pieces until she becomes a queen like her mother. Because she’s discovered so young(Kinger just kept her in his fort not thinking about it) she’s thankfully exempt from adventures and Zooble is designed as babysitter so they don’t have to go on them either. Bugs a very quiet baby as she already has a fear of Caine and doesn’t want to attract his attention. I have a random idea that she has a hinge like mouth with already plenty of sharp teeth that she uses on people who upset her or pick on her fayher(namely Jax)

[beetlehoven]

Bug Moore, (formerly) the best shapeshifter in Europe!

Now, uhh....he's not as focused, you could say

My Skulduggery Pleasant oc/self insert! Omg! My guy! My man! My stress ball to traumatize with every new idea!

(if im being completely real those all abt me school worksheets r actually useful as hell for ocs. also giggle worthy)

Okay SO. Most important thing, his magic. obvs. He can shapeshift, he's a neoteric and was gonna be raised without annyyy knowledge of magic but! He is also.....a....tranana 🏳️‍⚧️ (self insert part). So little eight yr old girl him was wishing really really hard to be a boy and it happened 🙀. but that was at the beginning of the 20th century so it'd be a bit awkward to explain allat to family and neighbours n stuff so the most logical thing to do was to run away and start a new life. obvs. So that happened and he did a few things and joined maybe an uprising or two before the Sanctuary started getting on his ass abt using magic while fighting in mortal stuff. hate when that happens!! 😾😾 so he kind of works w them kind of not bc they like having this kind of unique guy that they can boast abt or something.

he fights by changing into something with sharp teeth and/or claws (or giving himself those if he's feeling adventurous that day) and just going at em (he CANNOT fight without his magic he's bad at prioritising like that). He gets tired and achey and all if he does too much, yk the drill. he eats A LOT to keep up his energy for it. sometimes he photosynthesizes.

reason for the bald spot! surprisingly not male pattern baldness!

stick with me here. i LOVE darquesse n tanith and billy ray so when they were all working together in sanguine's safehouse i had to get my guy in there somehow. So!

when darquesse got control in the bride's of the blood tears temple she knew she had remnant Tanith to come back to so she decided to get her favourite apostle a gift! thenn there was a whole thing where she tortured my guy Bug and, very meticulously, stabbed his brain so he was a little bit stupider than a dog (idk if that's fucking possible i just thought it was cool alr darquesse is smart she can do that) but it was all in the name of her gal pal cus then Tanith had a barely conscious shapeshifter to use on all her misadventures! Yay!

yea soooooo that happened! and eventuallyyyyy with the Sanctuary's cool magic medicine they got the dagger out of him when all those shenanigans were over and kind of put some of his brain back together (if they can do it for scapegrace they can do it for my little guy) but he was still a smidge traumatized and brain damaged and can't look at any darquesse imagery or at Valkyrie cain without being on the verge of pissing himself but oh well. life happens yk. that's when his twink death starts and he starts spending every evening in scapey's pub and distancing himself from everyone he knows and loves.

what do i say its half 5 in the morning rn.

oh yea and his name is bug bc memory loss so he just goes by a nickname his old mortal soldier buddies gave him. buggyyy bug bug

hes kind of like jschlatt if he was trans and depressed and magic and had ptsd but was in denial and i don't know anything about jschlatt actually i just like his mutton chops he's hot

[dextraicarus1994]

Here is another oc, this one was created recently, meet Detective Jacob Corwing. Here I share his lore:

Jacob Corwing

Birth Date: January 10th, 1984.

Birth Place: Chicago, Illinois.

Eye color: Blue.

Height: 6'1".

Age: 40 years.

Hair color: Copper blonde.

Nationality: American.

Gender: Male.

Affiliation: Private Detective, Former FBI, CIA and DEA agent who quit after having enough in dealing with the corruption from every agency he used to work.

Allies: Marcus Williams (Jacob is the only human who knows about Marcus demon form and the existence of the hell realm thanks to an incident facing some supernatural beings), succubus Nisha, Kyle García, Igal Caine, Boris and Remo Montgomery, demon Hoover.

Enemy: Zadkiel "The Demon King" Jones (serial killer who is wanted for the murder of Jacob's family and multiple serial murders).

Biography: Not many know about Corwing's past, but as a classic detective story, it has been speculated that he used to have a family who were killed by the serial killer Zadkiel Jones in a mocking of his marvelous career as a top agent of the law. In searching for justice to find the killer and avenge his family, Jacob got into many messes that made him discover not only the whereabouts of Jones and his horrifying crimes, but also discovered a thread of corruption in all the agencies he used to work in. As a man who wanted not only to bring justice to his loved ones, but to protect innocents to not have the same fate as him under the serial killer rampage, Corwing quit every agency and work by his own, searching, interrogating with brutal force every one who got information about Zadkiel, becoming into a big obsession that not only is taking most of his life, but also his own sanity.

Things got more complicated when he met ex-MARSOC soldier / vigilante Marcus Williams, who not only shared the same objective: Protect innocents; but also he would discover a dark secret from the man that would bring him into the supernatural realm.

Now having to deal not only with the search of Zadkiel Jones, but also face supernatural beings in his life, there are times that Jacob only wants to have some peace and just forget everything, but as a stubborn man, he has a vow code that guides his nature: "Protect and serve".

Skills: As a former FBI, DEA and CIA agent, he has a lot of knowledge of the mafia world, government bureaucracy and secret projects and discoveries that had never been known to the public. Also he is a perceptive man who checks every detail around a crime scene, he is guided by evidence, detects when a person is trying to lie to him and a sharp shooter with his 92 FS INOX who treasured with all his heart and doesn't let anyone touch it, some speculate that the gun was given to him by his wife, however, Jacob has remained reserved regarding such a statement.

Weakness: As a man who lost his way after dealing with the brutal murdered of his family, he suffers an extent PTS, to the point of becoming into psychosis where he hears voices of the ones he cares about, the only way to deal with the inner demons is just drinking and night clubs, even asked Marcus ally the succubus Nisha to help him with the mess of his mind, who without any hesitation, helps without any problem, many had thought that maybe there could be something more between the detective and the succubus, but Jacob had denied all involvement saying that a demon is best in keeping secrets than a human.

Family Murdered incident: Not so many know about what relationship Jacob and Zadkiel had in the past, many had said that both used to be great friends and great comrades during the FBI and DEA days, as Jones being a respectful doctor back then, both were responsible for bringing many criminals down thanks to their dynamic: Zadkiel as a great doctor to deduce the victims deaths and Jacob as the man who used to stop the killers. Both were invincible until that horrific day, when Jacob discovered a dark secret behind Zadkiel's "good doctor" facade: A serial killer obsessed with the perfection of the human body and recreation of Renaissance paintings with the bodies of their victims. Unfortunately for Jacob, one of those victims was his wife and daughter, who took a tragic fate and became one of Zadkiel's horror crime scenes.

Falling into depression and a complete rage not only because the person he trusted most was also responsible for his family murdered. The worst part about the incident was that his daughter's body was never recognized since the flesh sculptures were unrecognizable and the DNA was lost during testing and corruption of the agencies. Now in complete grief, Jacob searches without no end the bastard that he once considered as a brother.

@quixtrix I tag you again ☺️🫶 and you @djsherriff-responses, my friend.☺️🫶 I will be posting more of my oc's this days (I hope).☺️🫶☺️🫶☺️🫶☺️🫶

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

The history book on the shelf is always repeating itself

by Purple_Hyancith Tim is a lot of things, he's smart and sharp, he found out Batman's identity when he was nine. He was a leader of his own superhero team. He was once Robin. Tim was a lot of things, and he knew that he was at least worth something. But he always had trouble thinking if he was worth it when it came to love. Sometimes he can be an idiot when it comes to emotions. or in other words, Tim struggles to realize that he can be loved without expectations, or that he is worthy of love. He'll struggle with his sense of self worth, and will be torn to shreds when he realizes that what he was looking for was right under his nose. -- TLDR: Evie tries her best to woo Tim. Words: 1214, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 27 of Batman oc - stories Fandoms: Red Robin (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Tim Drake, Red Robin - Character, Robin, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Batman, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Nightwing, Red Hood, Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon, Duke Thomas, Signal, Oracle, Stephanie Brown, Spoiler, Cassandra Cain, Black Bat, Justice League (DCU), Teen Titans - Character, Batfamily Members (DCU), Gotham City Residents, Gotham City Relationships: Tim Drake/Original Female Character, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Tim Drake is Not Okay, Protective Tim Drake, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Has Issues, Morally Ambiguous Character, Morally Ambiguous Tim Drake, BAMF Original Female Character, Misunderstandings, Trust Issues via https://ift.tt/coqENaj

[faepunkprince]

Caine is so fucking funny to me bc knowing full well any operations are a huge risk to him he still said no I need to look like an elf prince and got his eyes fucking replaced

[alphazed]

HERE THEY ARE!!

I really wanted to experiment with the lighting in these pictures and fully worked out two doodles of both of them in about 45 min each so i'm very proud of myself because they don't look half bad!!

My two Arcane oddysey charachters!!

Parvez Hillton, a pink lightning-sand mage and also the first charachter i ever made. They are energetic, a bit too cocky, not actually that good as they say they are and your typical hero.

Cain Moretti, an acid conjurer because I really wanted to play a conjurer. He is a blunt person, not good nor bad, he just had a rough time and is grumpy about it.

The thing about both these charachters is that they're my ocs and i very much made lore about them thank you very much.

I will probably post more of them and their story on here but, if you want to get an introduction:

Parvez follows the main charachter plot of Arcane Oddysey, everything with the order, meeting Iris and Ren and being Mordens friend etc etc.

But during this journey Parvez meets a curious person named Cain. They were at the same time on the same island trying to find the same treasure and they were both not happy about it. Parvez, trying to prove themselves and Cain, needing the money. They fought over it resulting in a chase and another small fight, but in the end Parvez won and found the treasure first.

This event unlocked a rivalry between the two and they continously met on different islands where they would exchange sharp words and scuffle from time to time. They were getting to know eachother better in the meantime of course, can't flame someone without knowing what they're at least a litlle insecure about!

During one of these moments things got out of control, someone said the wrong thing but neither remembers who, and it quickly escalated from there. They got in a huge fight and both got away in the end, with massive injuries and matching wounds on the face. You can still see the scars.

Parvez healed up and went on on their journey. But the next time they met again Cain is doing worse than before and has unexplainable chronic magic fluctuations (i will explain this in a future comic probably ;) ) and they made up and got into a reluctant friendship. This later turned in to more and they truly do care about eachother...

So yeah! I'll draw more of them trust me hehe if you've even read this far thank you very much because i had to tell their story somewhere and i hope you enjoyed it. I NEED TO DRAW MORE OF THEM RAGHH

[grendel-menz]

i love ur ocs! does dillyn's mask pierce his skin? also are his facial piercings related to the mask? im sooo curious abt the first time father cain saw him w/o the mask (/ in his hellhound form) i love ur characters and your art is gorgeous!

Thank you!!

It does to complete the spell's circuitry! but the piercings are unrelated - he just has dull teeth for a hound so he has little sharp piercings to look a bit tougher.

cw violence/blood//

The first time Cain saw Dilynn without the mask was when Dilynn's coworker took it off him to try to get Dilynn to kill a captured Cain (it can't control itself when the mask is off). Cain got badly hurt and didn't talk to Dilynn for a long time afterwards, not knowing what to make of their relationship anymore. Dilynn also avoided Cain out of shame over his weak control over his hellhound nature.

[vobomon]

Made myself a Hazbin Hotel OC...

His name is Camio (or Caim) and he's one of the Ars Goetia. According to the Dictionnaire Infernal, Camio is... "is depicted in 19th and 20th century occultist illustrations as appearing in the form of the black bird called a thrush, but soon he changes his shape into a man that has a sharp sword in his hand. When answering questions he seems to stand on burning ashes or coals."

I decided to put a spin on the "black bird" theme by making him more akin to a phoenix-- but I left some black in the design.

In terms of his story, Camio was originally the biblical man known as Cain. After murdering Abel, he went to Hell but obtained the status of Ars Goetia for being the first murderer in human history.

In this form, he has three separate heads that convey different emotions at the same time.

[harajuku-cookie]

IkePri OC Profile: Rosalia

"True love. For someone like me, it's something I yearn for, but will forever be out of my reach."

Name: Rosalia Espinoza Birthday: December 11 Pronouns: She/Her Hair Color: purple hair, usually kept in a side braid, hip length and wavy when loose Eye Color: grey Skintone: light tan Extra Features: beauty mark on right cheek, resting witch face Crest: cheetah Orientation: pan

Content warning below! Mentions of: domestic abuse, death (fake), mental health problems, and very brief spoilers of Gilbert's route

Notes: •Daughter of a Rhodolitian nobleman and an Obsidian commoner woman (Rosalia was born in Rhodolite) •5th child and an affair child. Father did not disclose to her mother that he was still married. Due to that and being half-Obsidian, Rosalia was looked at scornfully by everyone and bullied by her other siblings on top of being abused by her father •Her mother shared with Rosalia stories about her home back in Obsidian and the culture of her village •Although her mother has tried to protect her, there was a moment in a fit of anger that she expressed to Rosalia that she wished she never had her so she wouldn't be in that predicament in the first place •Her only solace was the traveling bookstore owner, Akatsuki, who would visit the estate and bring books, and as an added bonus for her, would help exchange pen pal letters with another book lover that the owner met on his travels (who would later on be revealed as Gilbert) •She was stuck there for 7 years until one day she took the risk and snuck into Akatsuki's book cart, faking her own death (making it look like she drowned in the river near the estate) in order to escape •Akatsuki eventually discovered her and asked why. After she explained, she pleaded for him to take her in until she was old enough to survive on her own. •Luckily he was already raising adopted twins so he ended up taking in Rosalia too, thus introducing her to Alina (becomes Belle later) and Zaina and grew up alongside them •Originally named Rosalie Cain, but changed it to Rosalia Espinoza, inspired by her mother's culture. Even if she felt like her mother didn't love her, she felt more connected to her maternal side. •Due to being surrounded by books while growing up and being raised by Akatsuki, she studied hard, worked hard, and with a passion and skill for medicine and chemistry, she received a chance at an apprenticeship at the palace to become a palace physician and apothecary •Learned swordsmanship/self-defense from the Domestic faction •Good friends with Yves and Clavis •She's usually very quiet and sweet, but has a sharp tongue when upset. Also deals with depression, anxiety, and PTSD, but she usually hides it. •Her health is a bit fragile so she uses a cane to aid her when she can't move that well. It also doubles as a sword hidden inside the cane, an invention created with Clavis after one of his pitfalls broke her original cane when she fell in. •Chevalier's nickname for her is "Ghost" for her quiet nature and the fact that no one can hear her movements, even with heels. •Called “The Witch of Rhodolite” due to her many pharmaceutical creations and how her discoveries and research has helped revolutionize medicine in Rhodolite •She actually loves wearing black attire more, but there was an incident one time while treating a wounded soldier with a high fever and he got terrified that the grim reaper had come for him. From that day on she wore light colors during her duties as to not spook anymore patients. She does paint her nails black as a compromise. Her crest is in the stone on her hair clip. •Shipped with Gilbert as she is one of the rare ones not afraid of him nor trembles at the sight of him •Rosalia and Gilbert’s relationship is considered an “enemies to lovers” dynamic, with her keeping Gilbert away from Alina while she carries out her Belle duties, thinking that he would do something to Alina, when in reality Gilbert was after Rosalia because he wanted her. Rosalia was the one with her fangs bared as she was trying to keep the ones she cares about safe while Gilbert liked the challenge she was throwing down. Their love story follows the same path that Gilbert’s route goes, with some differences. Gilbert’s isolation tactic doesn’t work out like he was intending it to because for the most part Rosalia keeps to herself. The animosity did sting, but because of the environment she grew up in it gave her the tools she needed to survive. She also doesn’t let Gilbert manipulate her and politely finds ways to wiggle out of situations, which keeps Gilbert on his toes.