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witchofhimring · 11 months ago

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Loyalty Chapter 16

Synopsis: Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, moontea/abortions, suicide, mentions of rape (not to the reader), Plot twist at the end!

They say when one dies there should be as few regrets as possible. Many spend their lives making sure that when the hour comes, they can look back with satisfaction. You were not dying, but your living days were over. With the sentence came the end of life. Your body may be breathing, your mind conscious, but your state of existence would be of less than a ghost. Your room was a tomb and your dull green dress funeral garb.

Regret was a heavy cross to bear. Tossing and turning you thought of all the moments you could have done something. Every interaction was analyzed, baked in your seething impotent hatred. Sometimes you wished for death. Others you imagined bursting out of the prison cell and killing every last one of them. Eating, drinking and sleeping in woe you wondered if this was madness. If it was you greatly lamented it. Could your madness have not made you unaware so as to spare you further suffering?

They say the gods punish those non believers. And your subs had been great. In hell you were, no need to die. Every day yawned onto a new dark night where you lingered in purgatory. You might have prayed. ‘But none can hear my prayers now.’

You were beyond the help of men.

To say you had no visitors would be a lie. Every few days Cerilla would come in and read from The Seven Pointed Star. Her favourites were on whores and adulteresses who met bad ends. At times like these you tuned her out. It was easier in a way. Being locked alone made you so used to the silence it could be overwhelming. She was like a fly you could not catch. Irritating, but so miniscule. The trial and constant anguish had drenched your fire. Where once you might have spat and clawed her beautiful white face, oh those days. Their like would not be seen in this life.

'No!' With a great wail you were wrenched out of sleep. A horrid agony seized you with such ferocity it was painful. Doubled up you moaned; 'No...no...' Slipping off the bed onto cold stone floor you were a lowly creature. Burning tears streamed down a cold worn face. The day before Cerilla had read Fate of a Sinner, a story where an evil queen was locked up for the rest of her days. Grieving over her loss the queen raged unrepentantly, for she had been evil. When the last of her hope was killed the queen shriveled up, never to set out again. You felt like that queen, crumpled to dust on the ground.

All night you remained on the ground. Not even the cold could encourage you to get up. 'I fear I shall never get up again.' Despair triumphed over sadness.

Only thoughts of Owen kept you sane. 'She will not kill him. Jenna needs him.' Then you would go to sleep, for that was the only way to escape. Mercifully your dreams were sweet. Small mercies.

What would Owen think of you in the years to come? One day he would be Lord of Highgarden. Should you be alive in such a time, then who knows. So much could happen. There was a small glimmer of hope at you imagined freedom in the future. It was not something you wholly believed in. Maybe when you were younger, but the years had stripped that from you. You contented yourself with the knowledge that whatever happened, Owen was safe.

'Your son is dead.' Cerilla did not even give you any warning. She simply came in and mentioned your only childs death as if it were the weather. Immediately you understood the truth. The glint in her eyes and the crow of her voice said everything. Owen, your son, was dead. 'Di you kill him.' The voice was not your own. Pitched and ragged it belonged to a mad woman, someone who was not you. All you could think of was Owen. Owen who was your son. Owen who was dead.

Cerilla did not stay for long. She mentioned about just having gotten back from King's Landing, something about Tyshara. And then she was gone. There was no need. Cerilla had succeeded in utterly break you. She would not visit you, there was no reason to. Now you were just some childless madwoman left to die alone and unloved. All the dead swam before you and into the arms of despair you fell. And there the specter of Owen, Jeacerion, your father and all the dead stood, blue dripping from their mouths.

Alicent Hightower was breathing her last. Day and night merged into one as the hour of her death drew nearer. She was so, so cold. Her sight was unfocused. There was a window and sunlight, but her eyes did not register these things. Someone was sitting by her bed, murmuring.

The white dress she was felt soothing against skin. When all the green was cleared she felt a sense of relief. Only white adorned her room, pure innocent white. Alicent had not worn white except to bed since her wedding day. She had always thought death would be scary, but right now she welcomed it. She was drifting away from this sad world of men. She only prayed regret would not follow her to the afterlife.

She mumbled something in the midst of her delirium. Her eyes burned from crying. The figure leaned in forward and said something. The former Querns mouth opened as wispy words tumbled out. And she saw their faces….oh their sweet faces. ‘I want to see my sons again, and Helaena my sweet girl, oh…and Rhaenyra. I will read to her under the Weirwood tree as we did when we were little. Flying around on Syrax eating lemon cakes.’ And ahead she saw clouds. Soaring above she saw them flying on dragons. And she was amongst them, older, but happier. There was a dull ache as she dreamed of what could have been. A world where women had a say in their destinies. 'In another life, pray I make the right choices. Let me be happy in heaven.' Happy as she had not been in life. As Alicent drifted away her thoughts were of those she loved.

Tyshara stood above Owen’s crib. She had never met her younger brother. He was small and very cute. Despite that woman’s colouring the babe looked very much like her father. Tyshara had entertained the possibility of Y/n having an affair. But she had never truly given it any real credence. Reaching down Tyshara brushed hair out of Owen’s face. Tyshara wondered if she could hate the babe. But now the very idea seemed ridiculous. Picking him up, Owen rested his little head against her shoulder.

‘He has no mother now.’ And something heavy fell into her stomach. Yes, there was a reason, and she had seen to it. Tyshara comforted herself with the notion Owen was better off without a murderer for a mother. That night she slept.

Highgarden was everything she dreamed of. Lucious gardens, flowers large as her head, tea parties with lemon cakes, warm night with stars twinkling. She missed her sisters but Jenna Tyrell and Cerilla Swann were always nice. Two of her friends joined. Karina her cousin and Lolly Payne joined and provided a blanket of security. She made new friends, including Jenna Tyrell’s good-daughter Florice Swann. She had been nervous when told she would be sent to Highgarden as a ward. But so far everything was very nice indeed.

‘Did you hear that Y/n Tyrell is coming back to Highgarden?’ Startled, Tyshara gapped at Cerilla Swann. ‘Truly? How come?’ Tyshara did not much look forward to seeing Y/n Tyrell slinking about the castle. ‘Yes. We have suitable room for a woman of her….situation.’ ‘I won’t have to see her, will I?’ Cerilla laughed. Unlike her other laughs this one sent unpleasant tingles down her spine. ‘Oh, no. Y/n will never be free again. I assure you that.’ Somehow this did not cheer Tyshara up. Something ugly stirred within. For now Tyshara decided to ignore it.

'A letter from my father's uncle?' Tyshara was paying a visit to Jenna Tyrell as she normally did. Once a day Jenna summoned her to speak over tea. These gatherings were very nice. She enjoyed cakes and treats from Essos. Jenna was kind enough. They flipped through books and Jenna gave her advice. 'Always keep your ears open, my child. A man may have his sword, but we posses other weapons.' Thinking it sage advice Tyshara hung onto every word. Jenna sat in a great oak chair. Tyshara had never met a queen before, hand queen Helaena or Alicent lived she might have been a lady in waiting. All she had were picture books of queens long past. Her favourites had always been Good Queen Alysanne and Visenya. Alysanne had been a just queen in her day, and Visenya had answered every challenge with bravery. It may be odd to idolize both women, as one gave birth to the man who terrorized the other. Maybe she just admired bravery. As a little girl Tyshara dreamed of meeting such a queen. Seeing Jenna sitting there looking every inch regal Tyshara was nearly blown away.

'My Lady.' Tyshara dipped into a curtsy. The great lady gave a smile and Tyshara blushed. To have the attention of such a woman. 'Lady Tyshara, please sit.' Tyshara sat down, careful to straighten out her dress, discretely. Jenna had given her a new green dress. Hanging off her shoulders the silk flowed behind her. A golden ribbon adorned her hair holding it up. Tyshara noticed the rings on Jenna's fingers. There were several, glittering and standing out. The one that caught Tyshara's attention, however, was the most plain. Well, by most standards it would not be considered plain. The gold circular disk had a rose embedded into it. Long ago the Tyrells had been stuarts of Highgarden. Tyshara found it funny that the Gardeners were gone only for a flower to be the lands symbol. It rested, shining on Jenna's finger. The ring had been passed down through the past hundred or so years, to be worn by the Lady of Highgarden. The Lady of Highgarden.

Wait.....was it not Florice Swann, Cerilla's elder sister, who was Lady of Highgarden. Granted she had hardly seen the true Lady of Highgarden. Cerilla told her Florice was a reclusive sort. Still it was rather odd that the ring remained with Jenna.

Jenna set aside the parchment. 'As mentioned, your great uncle has sent word from Casterly Rock. You are to attend the Maidens Ball as a candidate for queen." Tyshara nearly leapt from her seat with joy. Her a queen! Tyshara's noble heritage had always entailed prospects of a fine marriage. But to be a queen! There would be others of course. She had no doubt Lady Baratheon would put her girls out. But she had seen the Baratheon girls (at least the two remaining, Ellyn having died of poison and Floris in childbed). Sugars knew she was by far the prettiest.

‘While you are there I want to hear what is going on at court. Normally I would go myself but these troubled times call for certain sacrifices. Could you do that for me?’ Rushers readily agreed, of course she would. It felt good to be so important, bring a future queen and companion of Jenna Tyrell. ‘I will be a great lady.’ She thought.

Later that day Tyshara ran up to Cerilla’s room. Upon arrival she noticed Cerilla sitting with her sister Florice Swann. There were few similarities. The elders hair was the colour of straw and had a drowned quality to it. Her pale parlour gave her no glow that young women of her age were said to have. While Cerilla’s brown eyes sparkled nearly like gold Florice’s own looked dull. Never before had Tyshara seen such an unhappy woman.

‘Tyshara, how good to see you.’ Graciously Cerilla stood up and took Tyshara by the hands. She lead her to the table where cakes and tea were laid out. Florice’s thin boney hand stretched out taking the cup. Shaking she brought it to her lips. Was she ill? Worried, Tyshara looked to Cerilla. Yet Cerilla looked unbothered. Tyshara wondered if she should say anything. Finally, she decided to remain silent. Of course they would realize Florice was less than healthy. And anyway it may be rude to inquire on such a personal matter. So Tyshara said nothing.

‘That is a lovely dress you are wearing.’ Cerilla smiled with a simple ‘Thank you.’ Cerilla’s dress was similar to Jenna’s with long draping green sleeves. Today Cerilla’s long reddish gold hair was in a half up-do which Tyshara admired. She considered doing the same some time. ‘You look lovely yourself.’ Florice’s voice was wispy and the only reason Tyshara heard it was because of how few people were there. Tyshara quickly composed herself. ‘Thank you, My Lady.’ Tyshara sat down and the three of them ate and talked. Though the talking was mostly done by Cerilla and herself. ‘Tell me, where did you get that bracelet?’ Tyshara looked down at the ruby bracelet sparkling in sunlight. ‘It was a gift from my father, passed down through generations.’ This explanation was not entirely truthful. It was an heirloom but it belonged to a collection passed down to every Lady of Casterly Rock. When she heard her father was remarrying Tyshara took what she could. It gave her satisfaction to know Y/n would not get everything that belonged to her mother. ‘A worthy lady of Casterly Rock may have this bracelet, no one else.’ And so Tyshara kept it for herself. She fully intended to give the bracelet to Owen’s future wife, but that was years away. For now, however, it remained with her, a worthy lady of Casterly Rock.

‘And that is The Mother, see?’ Tyshara held Owen in her arms. He was old enough to hold his head high. By now Owen had gotten used to her presence and so no longer fussed. Tyshara was thrilled to have a brother, even if that woman was his mother. There had been another brother. The birth that had taken her mother’s life produced a boy, weak, who only outlasted their mother by a day. The only thing that gave Tyshara comfort was that her mother had died thinking the baby would live. It made Tyshara angry that her mother tried so hard for so long to have a son only for some woman to sweep in and triumph in only a year. The bitterness was still there, dwelling like a malignant tumor.

'I will be this boy's mother. He won't need her.' Tyshara convinced herself. And with that woman gone she could pretend there was no other woman, that they shared the same parents. It did not matter that they looked so different. He was her beloved brother and she would do anything to protect him. Her beloved baby brother.

She read to him all the stories her mother once had. They were all happy tales with no sad ending. Just light, justice and good triumphing over evil. Just as the world was made to be. Tyshara enjoyed, at night, hiding in her room and having Owen snuggled up in the sheets. A makeshift fort was built like she was still a little girl. Safe and cozy under blankets she slipped into another, happier, world. 'You will be just like one of those knights, Owen. A brave true man who stands up for justice.' It sounded so silly but Tyshara liked to think of herself as a sort of mysterious guardian. Like the handmaidens of The Mother. Looking after the young. With those sweet sentiments, she was lulled into sleep, blocking out the waking world.

She had thought that while those stolen nights allowed her to dwell in dreams, daytime was not so bad. Tyshara could look in those picture books she loved so well and compare them to her life. Jousts, masked balls, fabulous dresses, feasts and laughing the night away. She even had several suitors. At ten and six Tyshara was a woman now and had been turning heads for years. Like most Lannisters she was golden haired with green eyes. Tall and lithe with a slender waist she stood out amongst all the others. It gave her a great deal of joy to be the center of attention. Being fabulously wealthy also helped. New dresses for ever night, glittering in moonlight. 'I am a princess in a story, soon to be a queen.' swept up in the moment Tyshara could only think of how happy she was. Oh how happy she was! 'Let it never end.' She prayed.

Maiden's Day Ball was to take place at the heart of power. With little Jaehaera Targaryen's death Aegon the Third would need a wife. It did not matter than he was miserable, or that every night he awoke in terror, he was king. There was never room for things such as emotions, or pity for a little boy. Tyshara thought of none of these things. Not that he was just a boy, or that her father helped defeat his mother. Not once did she even truly consider him. Sure, she did not expect to bed him, or even feel love. She just saw the crown un all its splendor. When little the idea she might marry Aegon Targaryen, firstborn living son of Viserys, had floated around. That had fallen through with the insistence he marry his sister. At the time the refused had hardly bothered her. Being so little Tyshara had other matters. Such as what was for desert that night. But now and then she considered it. In dreams Tyshara dreamed of bring like a fairytale princess. And now she would be one for real. A beautiful queen coming after war and bloodshed.

They set out in great splendor. After spending months in Highgarden it would be hard to leave. But leaving for King's Landing! There would be celebrations there too. Jenna Tyrell would not be coming, to Tyshara's surprise. Jenna had been invited. But being busy with post-war matters was an understandable reason. No one else was surprised. Apparently Jenna rarely left the confines of her castle. Thankfully Cerilla would be coming along with several other ladies, including Katrina. All bundled into carriages they feasted on sweetmeats and cakes, playing cards and telling stories. They all talked about who was wearing what. They took the greatest interest in gossip and idle chatter. It was a blessed relief after two years of war and misery.

As much as Tyshara looked forward to the ball it was starting to get cold. Highgarden had a cold tinge that was easy to ignore. But despite going south, Tyshara found that the closer to King's Landing they were, the colder it was. Thankfully she had several sturdy cloaks Tyshara had done up. The weather was no true issue. Excitement was so infectious Tyshara cared not a fig for something such as weather. There were greater matters.

Whispers Tyshara paid little head to were the beginning. Of course the roads were not totally safe after a was such as this. Some maidens died or were horribly injured, so they said. But their retinue was so large that Tyshara cared not. Certain maidens were pleased to hear of such morbid details, including a rumor that one girls had her face slit open, nose in half, as it meant less competition. Tyshara tried to put it out of mind. 'Likely a rumor.' One day Tyshara went out of the wheelhouse to ride horses instead. Accompanying her was Katrina and other such friends. Naturally she was not without guards so they were all perfectly safe. Riding on ahead Tyshara enjoyed the wind rippling through her blonde hair. She truly looked a sight, so beautiful with tumbles of hair in curls. 'Katrina, hurry!' They sped on, Katrina laughing. Tyshara was filled with happiness. Soon she would be in King's Landing and Gods willing be queen.

Crack!

There was a scream and Tyshara's horse bolted forward. With a great cry she clung on. The world became a haze of panic and confusion. Fingers slipped and with a thrill of fear Tyshara realized she was falling. Wind was knocked right out of her as Tyshara landed. Both teeth and brain rattled, every bone shook. People were all over her when Tyshara needed space. Someone picked her up and in her pain did not realize immediately what had happened. When the world was back in focus Tyshara realized a great tree had fallen. And under its great body was the crumpled form of Katrina.

She was not celebrating anymore. The horror of seeing Katrina being crushed under such a weight tore at Tyshara. Her dear sweet friend was gone. Any joy there was dissipated, replaced by the feeling of something cold. Staying in the wheelhouse Tyshara held a figure of The Mother. May she guide Katrina in the after life. News of other mysterious deaths were no longer simply speculation. She cursed herself for not paying attention. Otherwise Katrina might be alive. Cerilla seemed oddly detached from the situation. The normally fun loving woman seemed to not care that such a young girl had died. 'At least it was not you.' Cerilla said as if that were comforting.

People grieved but they forced themselves on. Suddenly Tyshara wanted to flee home. Casterly Rock was her haven, not this castle Tyshara had only visited once before, during the trial. This journey felt so much worse. In stoic silence Tyshara remained for the rest of journey. The absence of Katrina widening.

King's Landing was silent, eerily so. The smallfolk looked out through their windows at the lavish procession before them. A chill had descended over the quiet city. Tyshara had heard the stories of riots. Angry smallfolk sweeping through the streets killing all in their path. They had even managed to kill dragons. And yet now these people remained hidden. Perhaps they had enough of fighting.

The Red Keep, on the other hand, was bustling with life. Decorations of white lilies festooned red stone. Silk draped from windows like banners. Perfume emanated from lanterns in an attempt to disguise the stink. Carriages had been pulled and people were escorted inside. When Tyshara arrived she was helped out and could hear music. The scene was truly beautiful, and there was a painful pang as Tyshara thought of how Katrina would have loved it. What Katrina would not have liked was the very clear tension. Something was off and Tyshara felt someone come up behind her. Alarmed, Tyshara spun around to see a large horse, its rider proudly sitting. Unwin Peake bore the crest of his house, imperiously looking down on her. 'Lady Tyshara.' His voice dripped with pomp. 'I am a Lannister you fool.' She thought. Who did this man think he was? Behind him was Myrielle Peake, a little girl with pale feeble features. In her hands was a doll, why he let her Tyshara did not know.

After that frosty reception Tyshara was ushered inside to get ready. Every candidate was expected to present themselves before king Aegon the Third. Bathed, Tyshara was dressed in Lannister finery. Proudly on her wrist glittered the bracelet. Walking though the halls she truly felt like a queen. Unlike last time she was here for a show and dressed as such. During Y/n's trial she had been advised to dress modestly. The double doors were thrown open and a herald bellowed 'Lady Tyshara of House Lannister!' The crowd parted and Tyshara's self importance doubled.

King Aegon shocked Tyshara. She had not seen the king before. Of course she had not expected to see a warrior or a strong handsome man. What she saw was not a boy, less than a ghost. Never had she seen a such a miserable child. His silver locks hanging limply, King Aegon looked forlornly out at her. She knew he was still a boy, but by the Gods he looked far younger than his years! He looked about ready to topple over with a single gust of wind. Tyshara pulled herself together. 'Think of queenship.' She suffered his dark look and curtsied. He gave a nod and then just like that it was over. Relived, Tyshara blended into the crowd. Another name was called and Tyshara knew that had Katrina lived, she would have been next.

The next few days were filled with banquets and dances. She was not obliged to attend the king, thankfully. In fact, Tyshara could have spent the rest of her life without seeing the forlorn boy. Thoughts of queenship abandoned she resolved to enjoy the festivities. Plays bawdier than she had ever before dared to see, costume parties and hunts were carried out. Rings set with emeralds were passed around and Tyshara wore in on her slim finger. But every now and then, no, more often than that, she remembered Katrina. In those moments she paused in her tracks. Before bed she prayed for Katrina's soul, and in those dark hours thought of others. One must unburned themselves before The Seven, otherwise how can they be truly clean? Tyshara had always tried to be good, dutiful daughter and sister. But something nagged at her conscience. They say when a death happens one becomes thoughtful. Unbidden, Y/n came to mind. She had tried to banish the image of that bedraggled sickly looking woman. Before it had been so easy to hate her, the woman who wore her mothers things. Gold and ruby had been replaced by rags. It was harder to hate her.

Tyshara found Cerilla giggling over a letter. Curiously she walked over. 'What is it?' With a grin that sent Tyshara's stomach clenching Cerilla shoved the letter into her hands. 'You will be glad to hear of this I recon.' Jenna's wax stamp still lung to parchment. The woman's small curved writing was hard to read, but Tyshara managed. What she read was not pleasing, not in the slightest. 'Is this not cruel?' Tyshara protested without thinking. Surely, even with who she was, Y/n did not deserve such treatment. A murderer she might be, but something did not feel right and Tyshara could not put her finger on it. Alone in a dark cold cell made her shiver. As a little girl her septa showed pictures of damnation. 'This is where the bad go.' One image that stood out was a cell. It had only one sole occupant, doomed to eternity in solitude.

Cerilla's laughter shook Tyshara. For the first time Tyshara was afraid of this girl. It had been easy to talk with Cerilla and lambast Y/n. She told her all sorts of things. Of how Y/n was with Jaecerion every waking hour. Or perhaps it was that way? Or not? Tyshara could not truly remember. Only that she had said the words. Savage anger had coursed though her. An anger deflating by the day. 'We will not let her die, not yet at least.' Tyshara felt she may be sick. 'Why do you hate her?' Tyshara had always assumed it was because of Y/n's true personality. A scheming evil little whore. But Tyshara was finding the rage Cerilla held quite alarming. Horrifyingly so. Cerilla tossed her head sending red locks cascading down. 'Lady Jenna tells me everything. She is a horrid creature who tried to steal my sisters husband. 'I thought Y/n grew up in King's Landing.' Tyshara knew that Y/n grew up in the Red Keep and Jenna's son in Highgarden. 'My lady's son came to King's Landing on occasion.' Cerilla shrugged as if this was no big deal. She did not seem to realize how truly disturbed Tyshara was.

Tyshara brought the subject up no more. It was not needed as Cerilla could not see, to keep Y/n out of her mouth. There was just something not right about Cerilla's hatred. And the stories she told started to not make sense. She still remembered how Cerilla had prodded for stories about Y/n before the trial, how she herself had spilt out words, suspicions she told a fact. And as Cerilla spun tales of Y/n, and others, Tyshara felt caught in a web.

Owen's nanny had written on his progress. Tyshara was glad to hear he was well. By now Tyshara was torn between returning to Highgarden or Casterly Rock. She missed her little sisters, even the bastard ones. More than ever she missed Katrina and wished to pay her family a visit. Already a letter had been sent yet that felt insufficient. She considered summoning Katrina's younger brother over but decided not to. Soon she would leave.

Tyshara sat in her bed fingering the ruby bracelet. So many times she had seen it on her mothers wrist. Cerilla entered and Tyshara placed it on the table. The silk sheets were soft and the bed heavenly. Despite that she was careful to remain stationary. Cerilla slid in next to her and pulled up the covers. Cerilla seemed quite unbothered, as usual. 'Who do you think the king will marry?' Tyshara shrugged, she had not been keeping track. 'There are a lot of pretty maidens this year.' Cerilla continue. Tyshara did not want to continue the conversation, because Cerilla held the tone of one setting..... something up. Tyshara was too tired and too weary to carry on at the moment. Laying down her blonde head Tyshara tried to fall asleep.

'You knew, they say the king may marry you.' Her eyes flew open. Not turning around, Tyshara's ears were shop. Suddenly it was like sleeping next to a panther. Feeling Cerilla slide closer, the bed dipping, Tyshara suppressed a shudder. How could she ever have liked this girl? 'Lets see, you, Cassandra Baratheon, a few others I recon. Do you wish to marry the king?' This time Tyshara turned around. The question made her feel invaded, and slightly indignant. 'And if I did?' Tyshara rolled over and closed her eyes, praying for sleep.

Tyshara had taken to watching Cerilla's moves. There was just something off about her. There was something else that off put her, apart from Cerilla's malice towards Y/n. Cerilla was watching her too. A tension had grown between the pair of them. Of course Tyshara was not fool enough to voice any of this. By now she was sure going back to Casterly Rock was for the best. First, she would gather Owen. It was about time he come to his seat. Jenna would hopefully be understanding.

Dear Lady Jenna,

I hope this letter finds you well. I would like to thank you for your patronage these past few months. Owen, I am sure, is under the best of care under your supervision, which is why it pains me to say he must leave for Casterly Rock. Your hospital is greatly appreciated and I will always be grateful for your kindness. I will return to Highgarden once I receive permission from Lord Leon Lannister. I pray to The Seven that our friendship shall remain.

Sincerely,

Tyshara Lannister

Thankfully Tyshara did not need to write a letter to Leon Lannister. Her great uncle resided in King's Landing thanks to this ball. After sending the letter out Tyshara headed off to Leon Lannister's rooms. They were situated in the Hand's Tower, although he was not part of the council. Dressed in Lannister finery, bracelet included, Tyshara sought an audience. Looking surprised, Leon met with her. They exchanged pleasantries before getting down to business. 'My brother should take up his seat. Naturally you will remain regent but the west should get to know their lord, should they not.' Leon had a thinning goatee that Tyshara found slightly ridiculous. He stoked the hair while pondering quietly. 'I suppose.' He did not sound totally sure, which made Tyshara nervous. Why should Owen not go back to Casterly Rock? Seeing the look on her face Leon quickly agreed. But Tyshara was warry.

Each morning Tyshara would wake up and write letters. Her sisters wanted to know about the ball , her friends the same and she wrote to Jenna. It was just small things, the comings and goings of the court. Tyshara wrote about her discussion with Leon Lannister, how he had consented to her return. What Tyshara did not enclose was his odd behavior, but Jenna did not have to know that.

'Getting ready to leave so soon?' Cerilla appeared by the door as Tyshara was taking an inventory of all her things. Not looking up from the list Tyshara said 'Yes. Then I will be leaving.' Cerilla raised an eyebrow. 'Some other ladies are leaving. The ones that are not injured or maimed have started packing. They may fear that once chosen to be queen they will be harmed. Tyshara was only half listening, thoughts of her siblings. 'It is a pity your sisters are not here.' Cerilla took a step forward. 'Too young.' Even then Cerilla did not look up. She did not leave, instead hovering like some malignant specter. 'Is there something you would like to tell me?' Tyshara was starting to get impatient, sounding more aggressive than a lady of her standing aught to. 'Do you still wish to marry the king?' And Cerilla was right behind her, breath blowing at the back of Tyshara's slender neck. Tyshara said nothing.

She should have said something, anything to derail Cerilla from her plan. Tyshara might have noticed Cerilla's malice, but not the depths it would go. For the next two days they said little to one another. As her departure time came closer Tyshara looked forward to seeing Owen. One night she was packing away the gifts, dressed for the girls and a little wooden sword for Owen. Once that was done Tyshara washed her face and get ready for bed. A maid came in and laid out the next days clothes. As Tyshara drifted off to sleep she did not notice that the door remained unlocked.

She woke up to rough shaking and shouting. Groggily she stirred awake to find an angry face over hers. A septa was shouting overhead, shaking Tyshara by her shoulders. With a gasp of pain Tyshara was awake. Crying out Tyshara launched herself back in fright. Hitting a body, she turned to see a boy, not much older than herself. Surrounding her bed were three others. Screaming, Tyshara hit the boy. 'Who is this!?' 'Do not play the innocent with us Tyshara Lannister. He was spotted sneaking into your chambers several hours hence.' 'But I am not at fault!. This boy is unknown to me!' Her pleas fell on deaf ears. She was quickly forced to changed and taken to the office of Lord Unwin Peake.

If Unwin Peake scared her before it was nothing to the fear she felt now. A snarl played on his thing worm like lips. In the room with him were two guards, Leon Lannister and, to Tyshara's surprise, Cerilla. 'Lady Tyshara, sit.' Under any other circumstance Tyshara might have reminded this man who she was. But alone and friendless she felt so small. Tentatively she sat down on the chair. 'This very morning you were caught abed with a stable boy. And do not lie we all saw it.' Tears rose in Tyshara's eyes, both from the unfair accusations and distress.' 'I...I swear I have no idea who this boy is I....' She could not continue any longer. 'Lady Cerilla told us you had been having carnal relations with this stableboy since your arrival. Tyshara gave Cerilla a horrified look. Surely she wouldn't have....

'You will be sent back to Casterly Rock immediately. You are a shame to your family and house.' Cerilla was quick to interject. 'My Lord, pardon my interruption but Lady Tyshara resides in Highgarden.' 'Very well. Lady Tyshara you will go to Higharden to collect your brother.' Leon Lannister was the next to speak. 'I see no need for her to go to Highgarden. We can have her things brought to Casterly Rock.' Unwin nodded. ' But My Lords, my brother-' They did not care what she had to say. 'You will go back to Casterly Rock.' Unwin Peake ordered. There was no pity in his eyes, only a sick triumph. Stung by the anger and injustice of it all Tyshara called out 'wait'. They all scrutinized her. 'Let me prove my innocents.'

When Tyshara asked to clear her name she had not imagined this. She was brought into a room where several septas laid her back. When they entered the cold metal all Tyshara felt was pain and humiliation. It was over in a moment and afterwards she was cleaned up and brought before the lords. Humiliation coursed through her veins as she hobbled into the office and needed help sitting down. These cold hard men were staring her down, the little insignificant girl she was. Her hymen was broken, although no one mentioned that a hymen could easily be broken upon a horse. Most noble girls lost their maidenheads to such activities. Cerilla then got up and mentioned that Tyshara was up late into the night. This was the truth but Cerilla was alleging something she knew not to be true. A maid was brought in and probed. The things in the beginning she said were true, that Tyshara stayed up late, that she requested tea and went for nighttime walks. The the story was spun, so that these walks and staying up awake were spent in sin, that the tea was of a certain type. And by the end they all thought her guilty.

She was finally leaving. Despite the disgrace she had endured it was a relief to leave King's Landing behind. There was the double satisfaction of having Unwin Peake's plans being foiled. Despite all the deaths and mutilations to make his daughter queen it was Daenaera Velaryon who would be queen. By new Tyshara was sure he had Katrina killed. Oh how she desired vengeance. But what could a woman of her position do? A Lannister she might be, but still a woman.

Tyshara would be heading right back to Casterly Rock. Her companions sat in stony silence all the way there. If only Katrina were here. It wounded Tyshara how not a single one of them spoke up in her defense. Now they all thought her guilty despite all the years spent together. Counting back the days till she arrived at Casterly Rock Tyshara thought of her siblings. Cerelle would be glad to have her back. Caren had been so little when she last saw her. Briefly her thoughts went to Crissa, her bastard half-sister. She had died the day the Ironborn invaded the Westerlands, along with her mother Lady Redwyne. She had hated her fathers mistress too. But after finding out the woman's grim hate it was hard.

The moment she arrived back at Casterly Rock she fell into Cerelle's arms. They hugged each other and cried. 'I missed you so much.' Tyshara sobbed. 'I too. And I am so sorry.' 'Oh Cerelle, you have nothing to apologize so.' Hugging her tighter, Cerelle said 'Owen-' Tyshara quickly broke apart. 'Owen? What happened?!' The look on Cerelle's face was pure horror.

When Cerelle told Tyshara Owen was dead she could not truly comprehend what she meant. Dead? Owen? And then suddenly she was screaming, a long drawn out wail. Everything was dark and wretched. Somehow she was taken to bed and left there to whither. Every breath was agony. This had to be some horrid nightmare. At some point Tyshara asked if Y/n knew. She probably did.

The days dragged on like she was being hauled over sharp stones. Sinking into the soft covers Tyshara was in purgatory. She thought of a storybook in which a queen was punished and locked up left to whither alone. And there she dwelt within herself until Owen's body arrived. Taking off every piece of finery, including the bracelet, Tyshara now wore black, was draped in it. During his funeral in the sept she was beyond the tears. Statues of The Seven looked down upon Owen's body with care, hers with judgment. Once the funeral was gone and everyone left Tyshara watched as they loaded his body into the stone casket. He would sleep for eternity bellow Casterly Rock, in the great Lion Vault.

Late that night Tyshara headed out alone. She crept through the silent passages, keeping to the darkness. When her own mother passed Tyshara visited the crypt one final time to gaze upon her face. After that she had never done it again. Same with her father. Tyshara wondered if Y/n would lay here when dead. Probably not, likely in the garden in they were kind. The entrance to Lions Vault were two iron carved lions, rubies set into the metal. They let her in without a word. As a Lannister this was her right. There was a long gallery held up by marble pillars. Tapestries worn by centuries depicted the arrival of House Lannister. Some of these tapestries hailed back to a time where the Lannisters were kings, not mere lords. She walked passed the countless carved statues until she arrived at one newly built.

Owne was depicted as a child, his likeness sending a shard of pain through Tyshara's heart. 'I am sorry.' She said. Hopefully he could hear her. Tyshara then fumbled around the edges of his crypt. The Lannisters had a small secret few others knew. But every coffin was built so that the cover could be easily moved. She found and pulled the pulley. With a crunch it slid open to reveal her brother. He looked so tiny, even for his young age. Tyshara reached down and shuddered when she felt his stiff skin. Her thumb crushed his lips and she smeared off skin. Recoiling back Tyshara thought there was dead skin on her hand. But upon closer inspection she realized it was not her brothers remains, but paint. Leaning in Tyshara inspected her brothers face. There was blue on his lips.

Tyshara stumbled back. Not even breathing her heart was bumping furiously. A hand went to her mouth. Taking off the blindfold Tyshara now saw clearly. The world was in colour and now she knew the truth. And it was too late.

'Novice Joan.' Tyshara, now a novice prepared to take her vows, get up. Gone were the jewels and her mothers bracelet. Here she stood in septas garbs. Most thought this was a choice made by Leon Lannister, the new Lord of Casterly Rock. Little did they know this was made of her own volition. A life of penitents. She stood alone in her room, a prison. Behind her were two candles. A silent prayer still lingered, along with two names. Owen Lannister, and Y/n Tyrell.

It was over, she had won. Jenna stood on the balcony overlooking all that was hers. Ever since she was a girl Jenna had dreamed of greatness. So when her father married her to the son of a second son Jenna had been bitterly dissatisfied. She had wanted greater but was forced to settle for him. She remembered when Amelia Tarley arrived shortly after for her wedding. On sight Jenna loathed her. This thin weak looking woman who was to be Lady of Highgarden. She had been overjoyed when Amelia gave birth to only one little girl, Y/n. She attempted to betroth the girl to her newborn son. But it was reflected and Jenna’s hatred grew.

Jenna had been reborn when married. The youngest of three sisters, Jenna had always been in their shadow. Cristina the eldest was beautiful, Justina was clever, and then there was her, just Jenna. So when Jenna was married with a second chance at a family she swore she would be great. ‘One day they will all kneel to me.’

She would not be marrying the Lord of Highgarden or his heir. Some cousin, but close enough to that great seat. At the time she married Owen Tyrell was the heir, a man slightly older than herself. She did not think much of that wife, some Tarley girl named Amelia. Even the girls looks were meager, although she was not ugly. So thin was she Jenna wondered if Amelia even have children. Her own son, strong and healthy, showed Amelia's bareness for all to see. That satisfaction had been oh so sweet.

Of course the Gods were fickle. Shortly afterwards Amelia was with child. Bitterly Jenna had prayed the babe would be born dead, or at least a girl. The latter turned out to be granted and that night Jenna stayed up in anticipation. If Amelia could have one child, even some squalling daughter she named Y/n, there could be others. But they never came and as the years went by Jenna became more hopeful.

Although Lord Owen Tyrell had no more children from that weak simpering fool he had no intention of divorcing her and remarrying. Jenna considered that a good thing. A new pretty wife may very well provide sons. Amelia was not the only one having fertility issues. Jenna herself had not gotten with child since Gerald. She consulted midwives, maesters and even woodswitches but to no avail. Once, she had visited a traveling wise woman with green eyes. When Jenna demanded assistance the woman only laughed. 'You will strangle the vine and spread the seeds. Or perhaps you will be wise.' Her words Jenna did not care to understand. But the bit about 'strangle the vine' always remained. Yes. She should strangle the vine. Nothing else mattered

Jenna’s first husband Gerion had passed from fever and soon after Jenna looked about. For a time Jenna fancied Owen Tyrell might marry her. It never happened. So Jenna simply removed a piece and Owen Tyrell was a widower. Her intention had been to attract him. One night she came upon with great ardor. It was not hard, so wealthy and handsome. But Lord Tyrell had dismissed her with great fury. Jenna was sent away with her son and bitterness as companions.

When she found out Owen Tyrell passed Jenna nearly collapsed with joy. Immediately she raced to Highgarden. It seemed the poison and her allies had done their work. In no time her son was Lord Paramount of Highgarden. It was suggested that her boy marry Owen's little girl. 'You had your chance Owen, my blood alone will rule Highgarden.' That did not mean the girl had no uses. Jenna was quick to utilize this new tool. it was easy to tether the girl to her. And she did her work well. When Y/n was old enough to comprehend the world around her Jenna received news. Because of her birth and good standing with the royal family Jenna learned much. 'Your girl is mine, all mine Owen.' Jenna mused.

Everyone but Viserys saw the upcoming war. As the king slowly crawled towards his grave Jenna planned for the future. Alliances were built and none were so great as those made through marriage. Alicent Hightower wanted the Lannisters. Although already silently pledged to Aegon a marriage was decided. There were no Targaryen princesses and Jenna had no daughters. So she put forward Y/n as a bride for Tyland Lannister, so conveniently in need of a wife. The thought of Owen's daughter being Lady Lannister galled her. Jenna contented herself that Y/n would still be under her control. Whatever name the girl took she was still a mere pawn.

She spent the war in Highgarden, in the safety of its walls. It was much light being a gardener, plotting every location. But by the Gods she was good at it. Y/n was brining daily new of the comings and going of Casterly Rock. One day she had asked Y/n to intercede on her behalf to Jason Lannister. It was so useful to receive assistance from Casterly Rock. Some complained, it was said, that Lady Y/n of Casterly Rock was favouring her Tyrell relations. Resentment was stirred. This had the mixed effect of concern as Jenna did not want the dislike of House Lannister heaped upon her. At least the dislike seemed focused on Y/n rather than herself. And it felt good for Owen Tyrells little spawn to suffer as he should have.

When she got word that Jason Tyrell had passed Jenna seized her chance. She had wanted Y/n, pregnant, brought to Highgarden. This had been counteracted by Prince Regent Aemond having her placed in Harrenhal. Why he placed her there she could not say. Word came that a boy was born. 'Owen Lannister.' She spat. The letter was flung into the fire. Y/n having a boy suited her plans. Her sons wife had given birth to a daughter. The idea of having a granddaughter as Lady of Casterly Rock was tempting. Finally she had been able to have Y/n brought. With the political ground shifting Harrenhal was no longer a safe option. Better news was to come. Leon Lannister, uncle to Jason Lannister, had a son. A confirmed bachelor, many had marveled when he finally settled down. And so another heir to Casterly Rock was born. This opened another possibility. She had only consented to her granddaughter being married to Owen Lannister to gain power. But now the boy was no longer needed as he was. Thanks to Y/n intercepting on her behalf to House Lannister Jenna knew Lord Leon. The pair had met and decided on marrying the tow little ones. But this had all been kept secret. Then it was time to rid herself of Y/n.

Some might have said it was unnecessary. Some could say it was the girls own fault. Y/n had behaved rather foolishly with Prince Aemond, and made enemies. Jenna's spies brought together all those who may provide incriminating evidence. By the time the trial happened all of Y/n's friends were either gone, banished or dead. Jaecerion had been taken care of quickly. She had been rather surprised to find the prince truly did kill Ellyn Baratheon. But it all worked out in the end. Owen Tyrell's daughter was locked up forever. Her time had come and Jenna felt dizzy with excitement. Another case of Winter Fever and swept through Westeros, and the final stone was laid. One cold night she had Owen brought to her. A little less than a year old Jenna observed him. He slept soundly, unaware of what was to come. From a small wooden box under her bed Jenna withdrew a thin vile. Thick blue liquid sloshed around inside. Carefully she uncorked the bottle. A small scent of mint was whiffed. Then, she turned upon Owen. Every step sounded like a trumpet of victory. Her heart pounded victoriously. Extending an arm clothed in green, Jenna poured the poison into Owens mouth. It was all over in but a moment. The babes eyes flew opened. He shook violently and all healthy colour drained. Then his panicked eyes rolled up, lips turned blue, and lay still. For a few moments she looked to the still figure. A thin finger checked, there was no pulse. Then a great gasp of jubilation broke free. And that gasp turned into a laugh. Turning her face to the sky and raced to the window. Throwing open the balcony window she burst into the windy cold night. And her crows of victory were heard only to the wind, and Alys Rivers.

Alys Rivers stood under the three Weirwood trees in Highgardens forest. It was not the forest that interested her but the Weirwood. Right above her, looming like a Spector of death the tree gently swayed. She could see their faces in its wood. One might wonder why she chose to go north, especially during winter time. Especially with a babe. Her son, his silver hair swaying in the breeze, slept peacefully. Aeron was small as his father had been at birth, and just as strong. He would thrive in the north. The other world ruled here as the one who held power dwelled beyond the wall.

But as much as Alys loved this place there was work to do. Aeron would be safe. This would be an ambitious assignment yet it would all be worth it in the end. The dreams that haunted her could not, must not, come to pass. Otherwise an eternal night would reign.

Tucked beneath her clock was a scabbard. It was well concealed in its sheath but it was not the blade which worried her. The Valyrian steele with a hilt imbued with the remains of the First Children, laced with venom, was the threat. She would need to be very careful because the effects were neatly instantaneous. Alys had built up an immunity but would still need caution. It had taken her lifetimes to set everything into place. Carrying on the wind Alys heard a cackle of laughter. Alys turned back to her son. ‘We are almost there.’ And then the battle for Y/n’s soul, and the world, would begin.

Notes: A grim ending for part one. But part two is coming. The epilogue will be out tomorrow, and the teaser at a later date. Book 2 will be out in a few months because I want to write some of it first. I am so excited because it is gonna be crazy!

I begun writing this book back last summer on a whim. Back then I did not know how much this story would mean to me. Writing and all the support I have received has truly provided me with a new experience. Thank you to every last one of you who has read, reposted, liked and discussed the story with me.

Epilogue (Coming tomorrow!)

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pruneunfair · 7 days ago

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Purgatory Au: Other character profiles Part 1 *SPOILERS*

[Not all deaths are accurate to the source material nor have all the characters I use died at all, this is just me trying to make something interesting]

Died in the early years of the 19th century

Due to her redemption failing to meet the standards of being considered a side character and not a villain, Charlotte was struck down in the form of a sudden Tetanus infection at the age of 22 from pricking her finger on an unclean sewing needle.

With her experience in fashion design, she was entrusted to be the dress maker for whatever special events the ladies throw in the manor.

Already decided a long time ago that everyone is a nut job and that it was just easier to stay out of sight in her little sewing nook to make dresses.

Less of a Cinderella themed character now and more of a fairy god mother.

Gets spasms and lives her afterlife with a locked-jaw.

A random member of Isabellas group of irredeemable monsters. Killed by an arrow to the throat after a failed escape.

The only one working as a maid that's a real soul.

Has very little friends thanks to it being known that she tried to sexually assault others when she was alive, a crime that she still says she doesn't regret.

Hates being forced to contribute via cleaning but Diane reminded her if it weren't for Isabella, her afterlife would be far worse.

Was extremely disappointed to find out there were no men in the purgatory

Only agreed to join Isabellas side for the protection.

An arrow stick out vertically from her throat, she also unknowingly contracted chlamydia while she was still alive, thus giving her another painful inconvenience even in the afterlife [Arielle slept with a LOT of people in canon and STDS were common in those times]

After committing suicide at the end of her story, the "demon" that supposedly consumed her body was actually just taking her to her new destination.

Very chaotic and runs off of pure hatred for Reilynn. Iris is easily the most over the top, while annoying, it does make for some decent entertainment.

With no other competition, Iris easily took over as the most business savvy but it's kind of hard to convince anyone to buy her perfumes when there is no currency

Aside from that, she occasionally dawns a dress inspired by Reilynns fashion and dances in manors theater, but will lose her shit the moment anyone accuses her of acting like the woman she hates so much.

Died of an ironic death by being stabbed and pushed off a cliff and into a lake below.

Developed pyromania and Thalassophobia

Forbidden from ever going near anything that could be used to start a fire.

Everyone else jokes that Rianca is one of Sumins ancestors since they act similarly and died via a knife wound.

Required to have a hallway buddy with her at all times.

Gives (poor) advice on love, not as good at playing cupid as she thinks.

Jokingly referred to as a "mascot" thanks to her entire personality consisting of white lotus traits.

A knife sticks out of her chest where her heart should be, when pulled out, the bleeding is less thick and more watery.

Successfully killed off by Deborah during the climax of their final confrontation after Mia turned into a monster.

Still easily manipulated as a puppet, she's less evil now and mostly just follows whoever can promise her more of whatever it is she wants.

Would preferably like taking care of bunnies that are still alive but is just as content to prepare them for meal times .

Questions the logic of purgatory quite a bit. "Wait, if theres a kitchen and a seemingly infinite supply of food, does that mean we have to eat? But we're dead, why would we need to eat when we can't even get hungry? Where are the ingredients even coming from-"

"Mia, we can't even taste anything anymore, just shut up and keep stirring the soup"

Her body is covered in excess markings and patches from her transformation in the last minutes of her life.

Fell down the stairs and broke her neck. (This was originally how Helga died but with the new changes to the lore, Helga was permitted to go to heaven)

Has a lot of Melusia vibes so she's naturally pretty bratty and cringe worthy to be around. When she isn't a bad mood though, shes tolerable.

Demands to be the first one to get a new dress made from Charlotte.

Huge fan of K's (The author who possessed Rhyse in not your typical reincarnation story) childcare themed novels in the library.

Doesn't have any life skills out of foresight so some of the ladies straight up just consider her useless in general.

You know that one kid that says "we didn't do this at my old school" from magic school bus? That's basically Riena when anyone asks her to do anything she doesn't deem fun

Her neck cab twist and turn into all kinds of directions, much like a doll.

(Just a picture of what she looked like before she was rapidly aged up)

Looks like she had a peaceful long life like Claudine did, but she's actually only 15. Her death was caused by continous aging as punishment for agreeing to be an accomplice to her parents crimes.

The only one Riena considers her "best friend" since Riena believes that Catherine is an old woman who likes childish things, much like how she is a young adult who acts like a little girl, when in reality, Catherine IS still mentally a teenage girl stuck in a old woman's body.

Wheras Claudine is the sweet and snarky grandma archetype who would hand out old people candy at church, Catherine is the type of elderly woman to yell at kids for walking on the side walk in front of her house. She's very shaky from the trauma and might already have lost a piece of her sanity.

Hates almost everyone at the purgatory, Riena included. It's not because she doesn't want to believe she is just like them, she knows why she's in purgatory, its just that most of them are white lotuses and they all remind her or Isel

As expected, her sign of death is that she just looks old, but without the mask... the rapid age is put on full display

Murdered by her intoxicated brother when he slit her throat.

She technically can still talk but it has to be in the form of an honest song, emphasis on honest.

Thanks to that, everyone can always count on Alena to tell the truth but most of the time she can get around this by going a long time of not speaking at all.

Sings for the performances the women sometimes put up in the theater room as the sole soprano, its the only thing she ever looks forward to anymore.

Being forced to sing the truth all the time made ever more passive aggressive than she already is.

Her throat has a large slit with dried blood stuck to it, when not singing for shows or singing the truth, the only sounds she can make sound like gargling.

Her punishment for her sleu of crimes didn't end at just imprisonment and a little torture to release those under her oaths. For such a truly evil woman, Aileen was skinned alive after she kept threatening the lives of everyone who walked past her cell, the idea for her gruesome death came from a certain witch...

Rejected Isabellas invitation to join her but would be happy to join if the position they're giving her is the leader.

Now that shes outside of an authors control, she no longer lusts after the same man from her story but that didn't mean she stopped being the way she was. Aileen likes to get what she wants, when she wants it but with no more oaths to help her out, she relies on breaking down her victims by isolating them and encouraging them to act on their desires.

When shes not harming other people, shes harvesting roses, strawberries, and cherries from the gardens and writing poetry with Marianne.

Without the mask, she has no skin and all her muscle is exposed, with the mask, she does have skin but it looks like it was sewn back together and occasionally shifts under force.

Woke up in front of the manor not long after she died from her crumbling heart. Her new eternal afterlife reminded her her old life before that man took everything away from her.

Never really forgave the woodcutter but his ass apology from his diary was enough to drop her grudge, something that she still uses to make fun of herself for being a push over.

Has a mother-daughter relationship with Soleia.

Anita is still allowed to perform magic spells and make potions so long as they aren't to be used for harm, Anita promised that she never planned on that.

Theres a large black mark in the shape of a heart on heat chest like a tattoo.

#manhwa #webtoon #the villainess maker #i fell into a reverse harem game #villainesses have more fun #to my husband's mistress #the perks of being a villainess #I will divorce the female leads older brother #to whom it no longer concerns #shes not my daughter #i didn't mean to seduce the male lead #second life of a trash princess #crowning a spoiled prince

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explorer-of-art · 10 months ago

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The Dorm Leaders in Red's Time

Now that I posted about Red, I can about post the dorm leaders from his time.

When making Red, I initially had him in Ramshackle but now his dorm is in purgatory. I also made him close to the dorm leaders of the time and that resulted in me making MORE OCs. In present time, they're all Night Raven College alumni. They're all ~40 years old because I had Red come from 20 years before Main Story. Most of them are designed to be a foil to their original counterparts. Some are involved in North's story but aren't as involved in the crossover compared to Red and Abigail.

7 profiles under the cut because I don't want to make 7 separate posts. have fun trying not to lose your sense of literacy.

Lucero Espinosa, the former Diasomnia dorm leader, is a tutor primarily handling magic education subjects. He joins NRC staff after Book 4. Twisted from Dean Hardscrabble in "Monsters University".

He makes and uploads videos teaching his viewers magic to make magic education accessible to those who can't take the subjects at school. Most people don't know about the channel and he never talks about it.

He likes bugs and insects. Unless it's mosquitoes.

He was nominated for dorm leader and others challenged him for the role by magic duel.

When he gets mad, he appears more calm. If he's mad at you, you will feel like you will be torn to shreds. "I'm not mad, I'm disappointed."

Ignatius Kowalski, the former Ignihyde dorm leader, is a blacksmith. Very loosely twisted from the Snuggly Duckling thugs, especially Attila, in "Tangled".

The mask is cosmetic. He wears it to hide his facial expression, partly to avoid being judged based on that. He has many masks in varying colors and patterns.

Under the mask, he is rather beautiful that he wouldn't be out of place in Pomefiore.

He is still introverted and shy. He is more open with friends.

As a blacksmith, he mostly makes decorative items. He sometimes collaborates with Demetrius if magestones are involved. He has made a sculpture before because he was issued a challenge.

He is not from TWST!Corona. He did go there for an internship with a veteran blacksmith (TWST!Xavier) in his fourth year and met friends at a pub (who are also twisted from the Snuggly Duckling thugs but closer).

Demetrius Marsh, the former Pomefiore dorm leader, is a gemologist working with magestones. Twisted from Madame Medusa in "The Rescuers".

Tends to use he/him when referring to himself but is okay with any pronouns

Wears a corset from time to time

From Jubilee Port

Better at flying a broom than driving a car. He's still working on getting his driver's license.

Erhan Aksoy, the former Scarabia dorm leader, is a Magicam user and photographer who documents events. Twisted from Prince Achmed in "Aladdin".

He is not fond of cats. He doesn't hate them, he just doesn't want to get scratched or bit and he doesn't understand cat behavior.

Has accidentally discovered a new species once.

He wants to leave some kind of lasting impact and feel like his life meant something which is why he has a Magicam account.

Is also influenced by Prince Achmed in Starkid musical "Twisted" lmao

Jasper Seymour, the former Octavinelle dorm leader, is a museum curator focusing on magical artifacts. Twisted from Lyle Tiberius Rourke from "Atlantis: the Lost Empire".

Despite his strong appearance, he actually leans toward the academics.

Technomancy user

Unironically watches documentaries

Capable of hand-to-hand combat

Would know some Romance languages along with Latin and Greek

Sandip Gupta, the former Savanaclaw dorm leader, is now a martial arts instructor. Twisted from Shere Khan in "The Jungle Book". (I don't like this drawing but don't feel like redoing it lmao)

(bengal) tiger beastman

His primary elemental magic is Fire. He chose to hone fire because he believes being able to control it dispells the fear and association with destruction.

He would unironically have training montage songs like "I'll Make a Man Out of You" or "Eye of the Tiger" in his workout playlist.

He took one good look at Red and went "get in loser, your training starts now". And so he taught Red martial arts and hand-to-hand combat.

He becomes the one who adopts North

Sato (サト) is somehow the most distant one out of the group despite remaining close with them. Twisted from King Candy from "Wreck-it Ralph".

Sato is a nickname, not his real name. The others referred to him by first name back in the NRC days.

Ironically, he dislikes sweets. He prefers bitter foods. If he had to pick a candy, it would be dark chocolate.

He builds PCs. He mainly works with desktop PCs but has a built laptop for him to carry around.

His day job is unknown. The gang sometimes jokes about him being a secret agent and he humors them for the bit. The joke allows him to step out during hangouts without question.

#my art #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #my ocs #long post #lucero espinosa #ignatius kowalski #demetrius marsh #erhan aksoy #jasper seymour #sandip gupta #sato

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momowho34 · 4 years ago

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The more I research angels (mostly jewish angels) the more I like... love them??? Like??? Their characteristics are so interesting and the way they interact I keep researching waiting for it to get boring and I end up loving this shit oml no wonder people write fiction abt this shit so much there is like infinite potential here.

So because I have nothing better to do, have a basic profile on the Big Four based on the mythology and folklore I could find on them, have some... angel headcanons? I guess???

Gabriel:

Musical theatre is his shit, most glorious singer in the holy choir and he can play the horn like nobodies business.

He’s technically a warrior angel but he mostly handles defense and doesn’t give much of a fuck about war but he could still absolutely fuck you up if he felt like it. this bitch is powerful

Basically Hermes and a bag of chips; fast golden messenger aesthetic and everything

Basically gods secretary. Praying? Gabe intercepts those calls first. Waiting for a call back from the almighty? Boom bam Gabe appears at your window with a cryptic message from god himself.

Maybe just a tiny bit unhinged.

Uriel:

Literally on fire at all times

Generally pretty docile and sweet, he’s a super important patron of the arts and writing, also beautiful. Not hot (he is literally an angel of fire tho) but like... pretty.

Less important then the other three, unfortunately.

Did I mention he’s also absolutely fucking terrifying?

his job is to redeem souls which you’d think would be a gentle responsibility but he does it with a kickass flaming sword. He basically beats the shit out of you until you become a better person. He is as “pitiless as any demon” which is... wow hokay then.

The type to call you “sweetie” in a totally innocent and non-threatening manner right before snapping your neck.

Just... the embodiment of the “0 to 100 real quick” meme.

Raphael

150% done with this shit at all times

He’s the angel of inflicting disease and curing disease and as a side note he’s also like the only angel to be depicted with black hair by western churches and art.

Job consists of anything having to do with disease and yeeting demons into the abyss periodically (“Azazel you’re going to sit in that valley of death and think about what you’ve done or so help me god-“)

Just.... could not be bothered to give a shit. Ever. So tired. So done with the court of heaven’s absolute bullshit. Just generally could not care less.

Chills with humans a lot, generally helpful but also detached for the most part. He loves humans waaay more then he would ever admit.

And finally; Michael!!

The Golden Boy himself!

A little bit of a healing angel

Mostly a warrior angel; seen as the epic protector of the Israelites from harm (which makes it really weird how Christians ended up adopting him when his role is quintessentially linked to the Israelites/judites but it’s okay I get it)

Ya boy is trying very hard to do the right thing, he actually loves humanity a lot and wants to help them out when he can which is partly why he’s sometimes considered as a benevolent psychopomp leading souls up from purgatory

Nicknamed as The Prince of Snow which is lit!!!!

The story goes (specifically in Second Temple Era writings) that Michael was besties with Samael (Lucifer, Satan etc) and was nearly tempted by him before the fall of the Watchers. He was saved by god.

essentially the inversion of everything Samael represents; they engage in battle a lot with Michael leading the Israelites and Samael leading whatever foreign nation is attacking them.

He’s a good boy, okay?????

(Might make another post abt demons next time who knows)

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quazartranslates · 4 years ago

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Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH52

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 52: Purgatory Reunion (IV)

[Player Qi Leren has arrived in Purgatory and started the task: Sacrifice of the Devil King]

[Task background: Three years ago, the Devil of Slaughter provoked the Devil of Power, and was suppressed by the Devil of Power and the Devil of Fraud in Purgatory’s lake of fire. However, he did not die nor give up, but silently waited for an opportunity. Three years later, the seal was accidentally loosened, and the Devil of Slaughter’s consciousness broke free from the seal and began to look for a way to resurrect...]

[Task requirements: Destroy the Devil of Slaughter and gain one third of the authority of the Devil of Destruction.]

[Data synchronization countdown, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, synchronization completed.]

　　&&&

"Oh? So, this martial law is the order of the Devil of Power herself?" a person in leather boots whispered in a sexy, soft voice. If they didn't pay attention, the voice would be covered by the wind passing through the underground passage.

But who dared to not listen carefully? The lower demon secretly glanced at the succubus, facing his smiling yet cold eyes. He looked at him as if he was a maggot crawling on the ground, which scared him, and said in a trembling voice: "I don't know... I just heard..."

"Heard?" The succubus repeated the word, his tone full of deep dissatisfaction.

"No no no, sir, the rumors are likely to be true! There was an abnormality in Purgatory’s lake of fire before, that is, the lake of fire that suppressed the Devil of Slaughter... I think that there may be a problem with the seal on the Devil of Slaughter! That’s it!" the lower demon quickly explained, fearing that the succubus would kill him in annoyance.

"Hehe." The succubus chuckled inexplicably and stopped.

Ahead was a huge underground space, which was too high for the top of the cave to be seen. The fluorescent plants and fluorescent moths covered this pure darkness from their perches on the rock walls, which made it seem as though the cave walls of this bottomless underground nest were dotted with starry light.

They were standing in an underground valley at this time, opposite to another underground valley, and between the two cliffs was a moat-like abyss, with churning red magma flowing under their feet, like a rushing river rushing toward the deeper lake of fire.

"Sir, do you want to pass? The patrol is very strict on the other side, I'm afraid that if you’re found..." The lower demon carefully raised his head and observed the succubus.

The mysterious succubus was studying a crystal in his hand, and the lower demon recognized that it was a life crystal. The original clear crystal has overflowed with black smoke, and there were fine cracks on the crystal’s surface.

It seemed that the owner of this crystal was in a bad situation, no wonder he was in such a hurry…

However, whose life crystal was this? What did it have to do with this succubus?

The succubus was aware of the other’s snooping gaze, and tilted his head to glance at the lower demon behind him. The ruby-like eyes flowed with the innate charm of succubuses, but they were as cold as ice: "Is there a more hidden path?"

The lower demon did not dare to look at him again. He bowed his head to suppress his rapid heartbeat, but he still saw the succubus’ long legs that were wrapped in leather pants so tight he may as well have been naked. After mentally rehearsing ten times, he said cautiously: "There is indeed one."

Magma ran rapidly through the canyon, and the succubus’ smile as he stood on the cliff deepened, murmuring in a dreamy way: "That's great."

It seemed that he had saved his small life, and the lower demon breathed a sigh of relief. Since he had been caught by this mysterious succubus an hour ago and forced him to "sell" a slew of intelligence, he was always in awe. As a well-known information broker near Purgatory, he was cautious in his daily life, rarely came forward himself, and lived a very low profile. So when he woke up this time and found a succubus sitting on the bay window opposite the bed, smiling as he twirled a dagger in his hand, he was really scared.

Comfortable days had passed for so long that he’d almost forgotten the terror of being on the edge of life and death.

Now, he coaxed the shadowy boss in a desperation to keep him pleased, and helped him hurry to the lake of fire. Anyway, he wasn’t curious... Well, there was still a little curiosity. Who was this succubus working for? What was his purpose for coming to Purgatory at this delicate moment? He definitely wasn’t with the Devil of Power or the Devil of Fraud, otherwise he wouldn’t need to be so careful.

Was he an old follower of the Devil of Slaughter? Or..... was he simply a follower of the fallen Lord of Destruction...

The lower demon did not dare to think about it any more. He lost 10% of his caution. He took the succubus around the patrol line, crossed the magma river in the underground valley, and finally came to the strictest area.

"This is it. Go from here and pass through the warning zone to reach the lake of fire. However, the area around the lake of fire has been completely blocked. I heard that a large-scale conflict broke out last night. Right now, entrance and exit from the lake has been barred. I can only take you this far. Next..." The lower demon rubbed his hands and smiled in a professional manner, fearing that the succubus would turn on him at any moment.

The succubus stood outside the warning zone, and the channels extended in all directions in front of him seemed like an ant's nest. He was afraid that the demons patrolling in the cave would cause a chain reaction.

Qi Leren sighed in his heart. He’d never thought that he would encounter so many difficulties after entering the Underground Ant City.

If it wasn't for the fact that the Court had given him a lot of resources and help, even if he spent ten days or half a month alone, he couldn't so much as touch the right way, let alone find the den of an underground information broker, and even coax and scare him into leading the way.

But even under such efficiency, there was not much time left for him.

There was only less than an hour's journey left to reach the lake, but this journey required vigilance. Qi Leren, who hadn't slept a wink for more than a day, had passed the point of exhaustion, but now was both energetic and filled with anxiety.

He was too afraid that it was too late.

"The conflict last night, tell me in detail," the succubus said lightly.

"This... is suspected to be caused by the old Devil of Destruction’s people. Specifically... I didn't go to work because I was with you so early this morning. The detailed information can be presented to you immediately when I go back and sort it out!"

The succubus hissed, and his red eyes showed deep contempt and murderous intent: "Do you still need to tidy up?"

"No no no no, I mean... I only have hearsay, I haven't tried to verify it, I'm afraid it’s not reliable."

"Let's hear it."

"Okay, sir. About a month ago, the lake of fire began to behave strangely, and died down after an underground volcanic eruption, but two days ago, several big demons from the underworld appeared near Purgatory. All of them were the old staff of the Lord of Destruction, and they seemed to explore something near the lake of fire. Since the fall of the Destroyer, they seldom come out, and this time they suspiciously appeared together. That is, in these two days, a low-level demon disappeared and was killed near the lake of fire. This kind of thing is very common, and we did not pay attention until last night..."

The lower devil's face showed a complex expression of fear and reverence. He lowered his voice and excitedly told the secret: "Last night, someone saw the body of a high-level demon in the canyon downstream of the lake of fire, soaked in lava, and flowing down along the magma... There were as many ants, which were crushed by the dark pressure. Then the whole of Purgatory went under martial law, and the lake of fire area became particularly strict. If you try to enter carelessly, you’ll be killed!"

"Who did it?" asked the succubus.

"We don't know that, but there is a clue. Last night, a demon heard a dragon roaring near the lake of fire. At that time, the whole canyon around the lake of fire was shaking, like an earthquake. The stones collapsed and fell everywhere. He ran quickly but saw nothing else."

"A dragon roaring..." the succubus whispered thoughtfully.

Getting the map of this area, he let the hapless demon information broker go. Qi Leren took off the "costume" he had used while undercover with the Slaughter Secret Society, changed into clothes more convenient for movement, and threw the fancy leather boots covered with sequins and silver chains on his feet back into the item bar, then hurriedly walked into the cave.

The dragon roaring last night was probably Ning Zhou awakening to the power of Destruction and transforming into a magic dragon. Was the big fight last night related to Ning Zhou's final death? Qi Leren couldn't be sure. Right now, he couldn't wait to fly to him when he thought of how close Ning Zhou was.

He had to catch up, and he would catch up. Qi Leren shook his fist, equipped the necessary skill cards, and touched the Prophet's Heart item hanging on his chest. He wanted to pass this area of the martial law’s warning zone. In addition to relying on maps and hidden technology, he had to rely on Secretly Observing. If it was really impossible...

Even with the Prophet’s Heart, he would have to forcibly cross the warning zone into the lake of fire.

He couldn't wait any longer.

Prepared psychologically, Qi Leren took a deep breath and strode forward.

……

The last guard post was already ahead, and [Secretly Observing] has also entered cooldown. Qi Leren’s body was tightly pressed to the rock wall, listening to the footsteps getting closer and closer. The patrolling demons held torches, which lit up the dark environment.

It seemed to be just a few ordinary demons, otherwise they wouldn't need torches to see.

Below this cliff was a huge "lake", with smoke rising above the brightly burning lava, making this cold underground like a burning hell. This was the lake of fire. Ning Zhou was here.

Qi Leren closed his eyes and calculated the most likely way to break through.

The patrolling demons were in groups of two. It would be very difficult for him to kill two demons silently at the same time. Once he failed, the demons on the guard post nearby would set off a chain reaction... If there’s a storm ahead, take a detour...

There was a loud bang, and the demons on patrol stopped and whispered, "What happened? Is it going crazy again? "

"Who knows. Be careful, don't be too lazy. Many people died yesterday."

The ground suddenly shook, as if an earthquake had broken out!

Loose rocks on the rock wall fell down in pieces, causing a lot of turmoil. Qi Leren, who was waiting for an opportunity, took this opportunity to rush out. When the two patrolling demons panicked, he took care of them sharply and neatly. Rather than dealing with the bodies, he went through the last sentry post as the rocks continued falling and rushed to the cliff ahead without looking back.

It was as if a window had been opened in the huge rock wall. Qi Leren stood at this window and looked down.

As far as he could see, the world was a vast red, bigger and more cruel than the scene in his dream. The air was so hot that he couldn't breathe, his mouth only seeming to suck the hot flames into his lungs and ignite his body.

The terrible height and heat made Qi Leren dizzy. It was difficult to imagine a glacier here, because the glacier would quickly melt in his mind.

This hot land made up of hot magma was like being placed in a high-pressure boiler, extremely hot. Even if there was a distance of more than 100 meters from the magma beneath his feet, the heat was like a red soldering iron pressed against his skin.

It wasn’t just hot, it was a painful torment. Just standing here was like a desperate slug on an asphalt road, dried by the hot August sun.

Qi Leren gawked at the sight beneath his feet. This scarlet lake of fire was burning, and a few black rocky islands were baked in it... No, it wasn't all rocks.

One of the black, half-submerged shadows in lava was...

This scene overlapped with his dying dream—the black dragon slowly sank into the lake of fire, never to exist again.

Was it too late? Was he already too late?

Qi Leren's legs went soft and he knelt on the ground, his mind going blank.

There was another loud noise, and the magma spewing out of the lake set off a surging wave in the lake of fire, lapping against the black dragon's body. The dragon that had been lying quietly in the lake of fire moved, and Qi Leren also moved at the sight of it.

The black dragon raised its head and looked at the thick domed ceiling. Its claws extended from under the lave, slapped hard on the lake of fire’s surface, and then roared. In a flash, the whole underground lake shook crazily, and the whole world seemed to be turned upside down. The magma gathered into a tsunami and washed in all directions. The surrounding rock walls dropped stones that crashed into the lava, and the rock wall above them...

The dome of the underground cave, the top of which couldn’t be seen, seemed to be torn apart by the terrible power. Suddenly huge stones were falling, pouring down in a heavy rain that made the surface of this flaming lake more and more turbulent. It turned into a horrible hell where fire fell like rain!

The black dragon stood in the lake of fire, and the overwhelming burning stones lit up the dark underground world. It was angry, sad, and desperate, and countless negative emotions gathered in it, making it roar at the invisible sky—

The dome cracked, and the top of the underground cave was torn open by the violent force, so that a beam of light pierced the earth and fell into Purgatory.

It was light, not the burning flames of sulfur and magma.

Just after the light fell, a familiar call crossed the distance between life and death and came to its ears:

"Ning Zhou—!!!”

Maybe it was because of the light, or maybe it was because of this voice, but the furious black dragon suddenly quieted down. It stood quietly in the lake of fire, looking at the distant hole in the rock wall, which was brighter than the sun.

Amidst the bright holy light, a silvery white light like fine gauze slowly stretched out, just like a huge lotus flower in full bloom. In that light, there is a mirage of paradise at dusk, and countless hymns were played there, washing away one’s inner pain.

In this light, a holy angel with white wings fell from the cliff and fell from Heaven toward Purgatory’s lake of fire without hesitation.

The holy and elegant white wings fluttered gently. The warm and quiet power extinguished the raging flames burning on the lake of fire along the way, and the terrible suffocating heat dissipated with them, turning into a paradise in the light. The reflection of Heaven appeared on the lake of fire wherever he passed.

The holy angel landed on a black rock in the lake of fire, just in front of the dragon.

And the light falling from the broken dome just happened to fall on him.

The earth shaking world had subsided, the downpour of fiery rain had subsided, and the scarred black dragon had also subsided.

They stared at each other as if they were staring at their own souls. One was full of cracks that were on the verge of breaking, and the other was about to be pulled by despair into the abyss of Destruction.

It was at this moment that they were all redeemed by gentleness.

-----

The author has something to say:

PS: They finally meet again! This scene is ranked as the no.2 scene that I wanted to write in the second part. It should be more beautiful in my brain... I accidentally burst the word count OTZ, First explain the cause and effect clearly, and then start a sweet love ^_^

By the way, everyone should have guessed how Ning Zhou died before, right?

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Editor’s Notes: Double update today because I think this and the next chapter are best read side by side. Please continue on~

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[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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barnesandco · 5 years ago

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Blame it on the Heartache

A broken woman finds a lost man, and they try to put each other back together.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2020. Word count: approximately 2219. Square filled: “Morning Sex”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, warzones, and one brief mention of persecution of LGBT people in Chechnya. Oh and also smut. Lots of smut (18+ only). It was supposed to be just smut, but then angst happened, and here we are.

A/N: There’s some talk about blame in this fic, and honestly, I blame (and thank) @heli0s-writes, this post, and this one. Also, there will be a part 2 some time next week.

You find him by accident. Kiev bar just after dawn, with wooden bar tops and table tops all rotting with the steady decay of time and too little money, disguises his head of dark hair and grimy outline in a corner booth perfectly but your eyes lock onto the side profile, the slope of his nose and the bow of his lips arching against the light of the snow outside. The Winter Soldier, or the shell he has left behind, sits with a shot glass clutched loosely in a gloved hand, the other one’s fingers decorated with rings.

They’re intriguing things, that you watch closely from the bar, pounding head distracted by the scent of hot chocolate and the jewellery that is both the manifestation of wishes for a prettier life, and the mark of a roughened man at the same time. The light catches on a round ruby set on a silver band on his forefinger. It reminds you of the red star painted on gleaming gray you first saw smuggling political refugees from one warzone into another. The time you were a spy, before you were an activist, before you gave up all hope of NGO pretenses and took things into your own hands, helping people with only the wind to guide you.

Not that you succeeded much. Now, days after desperate depression and harrowing hopelessness thanks to only having managed to rescue half as many queer Chechen teens from their torture cells as intended, you are aching with the weight of your uselessness. The air around you, the tonnes of the morning sky are pressing down on your shoulders, and the whiskey in your hot chocolate is doing little to relieve the tension.

The sorrow is what you will blame, later. Or perhaps, the alcohol, although there is barely a syringe’s worth of it in your system with less than half your mug still empty and going cold quick. You’ll fault the loneliness of decades helping a world that does not want to become better for how you rise from your stool and sit down across from the man who thinks he is a stranger to you.

You’ve read the stories. Seen the videos of the helicarrier falling apart above the Potomac, the camera footage captured by a daring chopper, and the Smithsonian’s exhibit on Bucky Barnes. The eyes staring back at you, calculating, clever, above cutting cheekbones, are the same as the ones on the wall in the museum. He’s had a century of pain and you only tenths of one, but the hurt rings out and resonates clearly, a sonic bell of a distress signal, captured by wandering eyes and inexplicable want.

You wonder what he will blame for his response to you unbuttoning the top of your shirt, and your hand over his. Possibly, the fact that he’s been on the run for a year. A year out of the cryostasis detailed by the files the Black Widow leaked in D.C. A year of running, of being alone and sometimes worse -- only the haunting nightmares for company. Your sympathy, the same one that pushes you to keep at your job when it is forever hopeless, is what pulls your heartstrings closer to him.

His fingers tighten around yours, and you blame desolation. You blame the flaming burn of want that shines from his eyes when he sees a face that is not just friendly, but maybe familiar, too. Something tells you you ought to be scared, as he rises and drops a hryvnia bill on the table, and leaves, still holding your hand, but the strength of his grip deters you. The hold is gentle, calloused, the rings grazing your palm as he adjusts to intertwine your hands, so each metal band comes to rest against the sensitive skin between your fingers. Tight enough to feel coarse skin and trembling desire, but loose enough that you can easily leave. Run. You are not being forced anywhere.

The streets of Kiev become a shimmering, white backdrop to his face that looks even more stunning in the light. How much of your last encounter does he recall, if any? New Mexico, 2001, protection detail for war scarred children who needed to evacuate, one of which was an heir to a throne. A brawl in a market, sweat-sticky sundress flaring furiously, the heat of the American sun no match for that of his arms around you. A dance, a twirling battle, and the gasping from breath in the aftermath was one hell of a challenge. Something that restored your faith in your job.

But you’re far from Albuquerque, now, and are reminded of that fact as he leads you to the polar opposite of a southern tavern. It’s an inn. A quaint, small place, more wood, this one gleaming brown on the walls and the hardwood floors and the mahogany counter, all well kept. He strides past the burning fireplace in the lobby and climbs the stairs two at a time, as you struggle to keep up. Part of your lust-addled brain thinks to joke about how he has you panting before he’s even gotten you in bed.

All thought of laughter evaporates when he shuts the door and presses you against it with his human forearm pressing on your neck. Tight enough to threaten but loose enough to let you breath. Your heart beats faster, the pulse of your veins thrumming a little closer to the surface.

Who are you? he growls in Ukrainian, eyes shifting between threatening and offering little hints of fear. When you do not answer, he asks, who sent you?

The material of his jacket is rough where it pushes into you. You have to fight to speak. “Nobody.” The English makes his eyes widen, and you barely have time to question whether this move killed you or saved you, when he takes his arm off your neck and replaces it with his mouth.

Heavenly heat, hellish white light, blinding ecstasy erupts like a volcano where he begins to devour you like he hasn’t for centuries, for millennia of loneliness, and there, in the innocent hotel room, your head fills with images of everything but. Hands find his hair, knock the woollen hat off his head while his teeth trace a pleasure-trail down your neck and to your collarbone, his fingers clenching on your hips.

You push back, off the door and into the room, standing now, supporting your own weight on weak knees and shaking breath. He steals the last of it you have left when he leaves your collarbone -- a bruise blooming ripely in the color of a plum -- to find your lips, and this, this is what salvation tastes like. Vodka and whiskey and chocolate, on lips chapped but lush and soft beyond the rough exterior. A gasping sound of want released in a hurried exhale between kisses makes him growl from somewhere in his chest.

The vibrations reach your heart, heavy and loud and beating a march of deathly desire on your rib cage. You hold onto him with tight fists, like he will float away, because this is the only way to let go. There is a reassurance, in his hands clutching your jeans tighter, that he isn’t leaving. His fingers slip under your sweater, and then under your shirt, and you break away with a gasp as cold metal -- full hand on one side, and slim rings on the other -- meets your skin.

Then you press his hands to you tighter, let him tear your upper layers away, tug his jacket and sweater off his shoulders as he becomes well acquainted with the tops of your breasts, the parts visible above your bra. Head bowed in sacred confession, he finds rescue in your body, skin shining in the light of the beginning day behind you. A new start.

A new hiding place, he goes down on both knees, laving at your belly button, leaving you spit-shiny and cooling in the chilly air. He takes your jeans off slowly, a contrast to every other step made so far, and mouths at your mound, soaking your underwear further with slow, maddening movements of his tongue. You’ve had enough. This buzzing heat has turned to forest fire in your pulse, and you take your bra off and pull him up and towards you.

His chest is warm against you when you fall back against the bed, his weight recognizable. The Soldier -- James, you think, for now -- buries himself in your neck with a renewed vigor. Begins to move down your body to the apex of your thighs, where you are wet. Dripping, soaking wet, just for him. The first touch of his tongue to your honey-sweet slick is an electric spark, and he lights you up like the fourth of July with every touch after. Fireworks in your irises mirror the flames licking up your spine, and his eyes meet yours when he opens them in moments of reprieve from enjoying the taste of you.

Purgatory, this limbo between right and wrong, is the closest you have been to joy in as long as you can remember. It aches in your limbs as you inch closer to the cliff’s edge of delectable joy.

“Enough,” you say, when you ache for more, when you are empty and wanting only him inside of you, all of him, and he moves away. Trepidation in his eyes at the thought of being pushed away evaporates when you pull him back, the flow of your pushes and pulls echoing with the power of the moon, and how it brings the waves to lap at the land a reflection of how James’ chest meets yours when you have opened the buttons of his shirt.

It hangs open, a curtain around you, and you dexterously strip him of his jeans as well, toes pushing at the waistband and belt falling off the bed with a clink that sounds like the final nail in the coffin. You’ll gladly die a little death here, if he’s the executioner.

His cock is leaking with arousal, hard against the lines of his abdomen begin to smear a shiny trail against you as well, and you take him in hand and he groans. Throbbing hot in your hand, velvet heat over solid steel hardness, and you spit in your hand before slicking him up a little more, his moans louder and unreserved in your clavicle, teeth grazing the spots he has made tender.

Desperate man. Lonely, sweet, sad man. Your heart aches for him, and you want to give him more than his cruel lifetimes have so far. You want to give him warmth, starting with the warmth of your silk body, as he slips inside of you, slumping, his forehead pressing into your shoulders and murmuring what you think is a prayer into you.

His hands are moving with feverish intensity over you, metal warmer now, as he throbs and pulses and then adjusts to your heat. All that while, you hold him. Hands first over his shoulder blades, then moving your right hand to his left, slipping under his hold on the sheets to entwine his fingers with yours the way he did in the street that feels miles below wherever you’re flying.

He’s so big, and you are so full, nerves prickling with electrostatic lust, that you have to focus on the swell of him above you, the hand holding yours and the shape of the rings on his fingers not to lose it right there. Then he starts moving.

And you’ll swear you’ve never felt true bliss before this moment, because James moving inside you, with slow thrusts, stretching your walls in delightful pain, is a luxury you’ve never lived before. Stealing your breath, his pace picks up, and you feel every ridge along his length on the inside of your body. Fire pools in your belly, and his hand is drawn to it. He supports himself on his metal arm, and trails the other down your torso. Obsidian shimmers on his ring finger and there is the unmistakable wink of vibranium on his little finger, as his hand dips lower to your clit, and you watch the spot where he moves in and out.

Lascivious eyes watch you watch his fingers circle your nub, tracing the path to your gratification, and they shine when you mewl, arching up, circling your hips. Climbing higher and higher, he moves faster, hits a spot in you that burns brighter than the Sun rising in the sky, and everything explodes in a supernova of heat, color behind your eyelids and warmth flooding your insides as he spills deep, growls against your throat, hand clutching your wrist when he falls forward.

You are marked up in his artistry, a painting of pleasure in the mouth-made bruises on your neck and the fingerprints on your hips, and the circular indentations from his rings on your neck. He softens inside you, as you overflow with your combined pleasures, and you hum against the crown of his head, as you run your fingers through his scalp. Sated man, grateful man, miracle pleasure, purring in your arms, too dangerous to keep, but too comfortable a weight to let go of so soon.

#ayesha writes #SSB2020 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction

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kryptsune · 4 years ago

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Souly Damned Saturdays!~

🌼 Hello everyone! Welcome to another SD Saturday! Today is going to be another character profile, a timeline, and some info on one of the stories within the world! As always if you are interested in my original work please reach out! I love answering questions about all this work. Let’s get into it!

~Prince Profile:~

True Name: Saketh Alias Names: Costello Nicknames: N/A (he usually rarely even uses his true name as he prefers Costello far more) Soul Flower Type: Rose in Full bloom Color Type: Fire Gold mix with Burnt edges Infernal Hierarchy: Crowned Prince of Lust Age Order: 2nd Oldest Familiar Form: (Raven) - A large black feathered bird with eyes and talons of golden fire. True Form Appearance Description: ~Skeletal in appearance ~Prominent fangs (spiked teeth in true form) ~White horns similar to an antelope (more twisted) ~Fingers with black clawed tips ~Golden eyes ~Pointed gold tongue ~ Stereotypical spaded tail with a black to white gradient ~ Two sets of wings ~White to black gradient and edged with blue fire ~When in enraged they are fully engulfed in blue fire

Human Form Physical Description: ~Hair Color: warm tone Platinum Blonde ~Hair Style: Short, falls to ears, whip dip ~Glasses or Contacts: From time to time, more Rectangular frames ~Eye Color: Fire Gold ~Skin Tone: Pale ~Contract symbol mark placement: His left side, junction between neck and shoulder. ~Height -- 6’3”

Special Abilities or Powers --

~Mind reading ~Can pull out deepest desire ~Dream walking ~Veritas (forces those under his influence to tell the truth) ~Trust (will gain the trust of those touched) ~Mental Suggestion ~Lust Touch ~Levitation ~Teleportation ~Fire/Dark element ~Conjuration (more below cut!)

~SD Q AND A (These are all questions from you! Specifically those in my server):~

1. What was Costello like before he became an infernal?

💛 Costello used to be a Celestial of love just like Val. If you split love into two separate entities it would be the passionate romantic side and the side that is all about protection and devotion. These types also reflect in both Costello’s and Val’s Infernal sides. Costello is more about seduction and Val is about possession and obsession. As brothers they tend to work together in their celestial sides. When they fell they split a bit.

2. When he isn't busy what does he do in his spare time?

💛 Oh thats easy! During his time in the Mortal Realm he spent a fair amount of time in the 1920′s era. It is where his style comes from mainly and why the Lust kingdom appears to have that kind of influence within it. He used to be a charismatic bartender during prohibition and that has kind of stuck with him. He enjoys crafting new drinks both for mortals and Infernals (since they can’t get drunk off regular alcohol). He is also an avid reader.

3. What kind of stuff does he read?

💛 Hilariously he enjoys supernatural romance novels because they fascinate him. Why would mortals be interested in a being that could literally end their life easily? As one such being he finds it both amusing and curious. He also reading them to see what mortals are uh... "into". Other than that he likes reading anything supernatural/gothic fantasy based for “research”.

4. Does Costello share the same view on humans as Val?

💛 Val and he at one point help similar enjoyments fo mortal kind. They found that they were were entertaining and rather sweet to observe when falling in love. When they fell all they saw was darkness not just from mortals but also themselves. How lust overwhelms your thoughts and drives you to commit certain acts. Their opinions grew apart when Val was corrupted by their father, Darrius. They only were both brought back due to their brother Nas and the mortal they meet later in time, Evelyn Rodgers. Their nickname for her is Starlight.

5. Does Costello like animals?

💛 Yes he does! He has a specific affinity for the raven.

6. Does Costello have a favorite drink? Alcoholic and non alcoholic.

💛 He enjoys most drinks but specifically a Galaxy Cocktail but with an Infernal twist. When it comes to non-alcoholic I would say that he is more of a coffee connoisseur so things like Mocha. He enjoys sweet things but not to the level that Val does. (btw that cocktail looks like this)

7. Would Costello be willing to befriend humans?

💛 Before the fall, absolutely but after the Fall and before Eve? No. Humans are just tools for his amusement and entertainment. I should mention that Costello while his father is in power goes off the rails... and is extraordinarily dangerous only when Nas pulls him back from that does he mellow out. During the 1920's he still has a superiority mindset and a master of emotional manipulation. He is however far...FAR more mellowed out at this time which is why he humors Eve the first time they meet.

8. What are Costello’s responsibilities in his kingdom? 💛 It really depends on when in the timeline you are asking about. If we're talking before Nas ascends to the throne of the realm? Then Costello's duties were much less. He assisted Nas who was High Prince of Lust at the time. He studied and learned, ready to take over for Nas if the other needed to leave or otherwise. Now that he is High Prince himself? His duties include the hefty amounts of paperwork ensuring every soul is accounted for. New souls that hold purity to fall under Nas' new ruling, getting where they need to go if they landed in his kingdom. He also handles some punishments for the wicked. He has to run the entirety of Lust kingdom. Valentine... yanno... somewhere... X’D (trust me he probably isn’t the best one to ask)

~Souly Damned Timeline~

Creation of the Realms: The Celestial, Infernal, and First Mortal Realm come into being. The Infernal realm is closed off leaving the Celestials to guide and shape humanity. There are intermittent wars with the Infernal beasts and Imps when they manage to break their gates. The garden of Paradise was also created at this time which houses those most loyal to their “gods”. It is also a fact that the Celestial blooded creatures were created at this time (unicorns are a good example, light fantasy creatures). They were placed in the Garden.

The Celestial Civil War: Darrius and his sons rebel against the ways of the Silver City only to be stricken to the Infernal Realm. After this event the gates to the Celestial Realm are shut and mortals are forced to fend for themselves.

The Rise of the 12 Princes: The now fallen Celestials begin to corrupt the souls of the mortals present being known as the Seven Deadly Sins. The mortals are easily swayed by their new rulers dubbing them King and Princes. Each one with its own people and territory to preside over. In this time the Princes begin to succumb more deeply to their darker sides, now shunning their once Celestial blood.

Blood Moon: A period of time in between the rule of the Princes in the First Mortal Realm where 4 Princes began to experiment cruelly with their own corrupted blood and the mortal soul. The Infernal blooded hybrids come from this part of the timeline such as vampires, werewolves, and the fae.

The Vinculum Infernalis (Witches/Warlocks): With the Celestials gone the mortals were now forced to fend for themselves. In desperation they plead with their Fallen overlords to aid them. A blood binding contract was struck between them giving them magical abilities and a new tie to the Infernal Realm. This was also the creation of the first covens.

Maintaining the Balance (Hunters): Enraged by the tilt of the balance of the universe in Infernal favor the Celestials decide to form a similar bond with mortals creating the first Celestial blooded humans. They would eventually be called the Hunters as their “divine” task was to eradicate the First Mortal Realm of the Infernal Blooded abominations now that the Princes favored the newly created realm.

Long Live the King no more: After millenia of creating havoc and bloodshed without consequences the Princes begin to doubt the leadership of their father. They have slowly changed their mindsets about mortals all together after so much time. Instead of destroying everything in sight and soaking the earth with blood they begin to have an attachment. Their fathers' ways are despotic so in response to this Nasaros, the eldest, usurps his throne. A second war is waged between those of Infernal and Celestial blood turning the First Mortal Realm into an almost apocalyptic wasteland filled to the brim with monsters and ruins. The Princes lose the war doing substantial damage to the Celestial Realm. It was no longer habitable and so a new balanced realm was created for the mortals to live in peace without fear of Celestial driven war or demonic influences.

The Locking of the Gates: The gates of the three Realms are shut and locked in the beginning of the birth of the New Mortal Realm. The Princes are forced to make a new Kingdom within the Infernal Realm to which they have been banished. This forms “Hell” in which the decisions of a mortal's life determine where they go. If they revel in the original 7 sins then they are placed in the kingdom in which they over indulged in. The silver City was once again open to those of virtue but only after death. With no direct interference from either side the humans evolved and advanced on their own. This is what we know as the world today while the First Mortal Realm was now labeled as an in between realm. One that would eventually be called Purgatory, the realm of beasts, monsters, and the supernatural.

Bloodswap: A story set after the time frame of Blood Moon and the creation of the Hunters. It is about 2 brothers that become infected with a vampiric blood that is now turning their town to shambles. The gates have been sealed and those forced to live in Purgatory struggling to survive. The mortals have progressed slowly despite being an older realm. They are currently in what we would consider the middle ages with the help of Celestial technology. Once the gates are unsealed for the New Mortal Realm a new world order begins to form. (Crimson would be proud of his new vampiric race that has slowly taken over Purgatory, now more civilized as the rulers).

The New Mortal Realm and Purgatory: Purgatory remains in ruins though there are mortals that live in this apocalyptic wasteland of a world. That also includes monsters and hunters. Over the Centuries cracks within this forgotten realm have released some of its inhabitants into the New Mortal Realm (NMR). The original bloodline of the first covens also were able to make it into this new world fleeing from Purgatory with the help of their Infernal masters. The Mortal Realm is now in the modern day where many of the Infernal or Celestial blooded mortals or beasts hide in plain sight. Even some of the most vicious have adapted to this new apparently “magic-less” world.

Note: The gates are no longer locked indefinitely for either of the two main realms; this is why demons are able to make contracts with foolish mortals. The Celestials have been forbidden from interfering for fear of repeating the past but that does not mean that they do not do so. It is rumored that around the world are organizations created to combat in secret those Infernal blooded that lurk in the dark. Meanwhile the covens are more focused on their own material pursuits having been persecuted for centuries (Salem Witch Trials as an example).

Ossibus Inferni (1920’s; NMR):

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Main Plot Synopsis: During the era of the 1920’s a young lady named Evelyn Rodgers finds herself thrown into a Hellish Civil War. She is a small PI (Private Investigator) hurting for cash and jobs in a place wrought with problems. In an effort to make a better name for herself she begins to investigate the rise of crime and strange occurrences happening in her city. There are suspicious disappearances, missing persons reports, and extra violence that couldn’t be missed by human eyes, right? It just does not seem to add up. Determined and with nothing to lose she is able to put together a series of connections by using some none to savory contacts.

She finds out that the potential epicenter of these events are tied to owners of one of the swankiest and popular clubs in town. It is suspected that it is a speakeasy but that is not what has drawn her attention. It would appear that the family running the place have been a mystery to nearly everyone even though they have been around longer than they can recall. No one knows what the owners look like due to usually having their signature fedoras on. Ones that she can place all around the city through various photographs. It could be anyone, right?

Regardless of the information that she has collected she decides to go undercover to the club, Ossibus Ignem (Fire and Bone), in order to confirm her suspicions. She decides that auditioning for one of their most prized gigs is a good way to get into their inner circle and perhaps get a glimpse of her potential employers. Eve wants the truth and nothing but the truth though this plan is incredibly risky. Even if the brothers, as she finds out later, are not the cause of these events they could still be nefarious. No one likes a spy, especially one that’s gained their trust.

As she enters she realizes that it is packed like the rumors have told her. She does not get out much due to her job but she is dressed to the 9s in a beautiful dress of the time ready to put her plan into effect. Instead of waiting around she heads to the bar where she is spotted by the seemingly charismatic bartender which she manages to strike up a conversation with. She tries to pick his brain over a drink that he generously slides her way. It would seem that the establishment is already breaking the laws of Prohibition. That much is already confirmed.

He seems like the friendly sort, platinum blonde hair and a dazzling smile. Eve being a PI calls into question how perfect he actually looks but puts the thought off. She could have sworn his eyes were far more vibrant than what was humanly possible too. When she glances at him again however they appear to be a light brown instead. Things are already strange as she continues to speak with him only to find out that he is in fact one of the brothers that work at the club. It turns out to be a family business. He introduces himself as Costello -.

Eventually their conversation is cut short by Costello taking her to the back of the house where presumably his brother is waiting for her to do her little gig. She paces back and forth nervously in her dressing room only to not watch where she is going, running into a tall individual. His pinstripe suit, fedora, and bright red tie cause her to pause only to be greeted with a shiny golden toothed smile. The strange thing about it is that it is shaped into a fang/ canine tooth. It is a little off putting but the stranger introduces himself as the younger brother of the group, Valentine -.

This is someone that she had no doubt is in all the photographs that she had collected. Ultimately he seems nice enough telling her that if she needs anything to let him know and to take her time with her audition. He does appear to have a mischievous flirty side to him especially with her which she tries to distance herself from. He does not make that easy as she can tell he has already taken a special interest in her.

She performs and it would seem that she has a pretty singing voice that leaves the entire crowd roaring in applause. This obviously catches the eyes of the brothers and she gets the gig. Other than a few of the accidental slip ups the boys seem fine with her being around them. She doesn’t pose any threat. After all, she is only human.

Eve begins to enjoy her undercover position but finds herself slipping further and further away from her original objective. The - family puts her up in the loft above the club and treats her well. She learns more about them and more about the family itself. They are pretty open with what they do not even hiding the crime lord status that they are under. Being associated with the brothers is dangerous and therefore they want to make sure she understands what it means to be under the name of -.

She is surprised by their honesty and immediately they gain her trust and vice versa. That is until she realizes why she is there in the first place. After one of her performances she manages to get into Valentine’s room, snooping around. Only to find something she wasn’t expecting of a bunch of crime mafiosos. Instead she finds arcane symbols, tomes, and various other occult items that would lead her to the conclusion that they are in fact dealing with something far beyond the mortal realm. At least that is what she thinks.

The concern only grows when she finds a secret room with even more devilish items. One such item is a series of documents showing the various victims she had been investigating. On top of that information she finds even darker dealings then she suspected and papers scrawled with a script she has never seen before. As she turns to leave the room she freezes to hear Valentine’s voice. He is none too thrilled as he interrogates her but she can’t see his face. All she can feel are skeletal like claws at her shoulders. It’s all in her head right?

When he turns her around she is faced with him looking quite human explaining to her the predicament she now finds herself in. As her confusion grows he keeps her cornered only to be given two choices. One is that she binds her soul to him in the form of a contract and the other, death. Obviously she chooses to live. After this event she is able to see the true forms of all the Infernals in the club, having a panic moment seeing them mingling so easily with unsuspecting humans. Valentine, Luciano, and Costello are the most terrifying in form as they are skeleton looking Infernals. From then on she works in the club learning more and more about their true selves.

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#demons #Souly Damned #SD Saturdays #worldbuilding #info #askbox is open #orignal content #angels #costello #Saketh

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ecto-stone · 4 years ago

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“chuckkle” i don’t know why but i’m just very hellbend on the idea of a reboosted Vlad that is nothing like Original Vlad

-So You have this sickly Vlad who been in hospital for 2 year fighting for his life after the accident, with his friend alway there cheering up for him and then in his final moment ,he die feeling love of his friend < a peaceful death make him free soul and have no grudge over Maddie and Jack>. -Then latter wake up a in tux suit buried in a coffin 6ft under ground with Blue Skin and comepletely bald <which is why he got so savy about his long hair and don’t like tight space> -Unlike original Vlad, Para Vlad is a kind out going adveturous person < sortal like some one that would make sense for jack to go full idol over>. So when he get his new Power and no longer exist on paper, he just resume doing the thing he love .Become a Nomad Ghost researcher and have a whole Packer cover journal for it. <his journal base mostly on the info he gather from Ghost that he encounter on living realm, the man look like a kid in candies store when he first entered the ghost zone via Fenton Portal> -The journal series originally dedicated to ghost only would soon grow into a huge collection of paranormal stuff when he found out other mythical creature like Vampire, werewolf, gnorm,Fairy, mermaid exist,... and He started to recovered lost Knowlege of the Fenton Clan and Master clan regard Paranormal activity and practice Magic and dark magic < Sometime combine it with science>. +He help Ghost resolve their unfinish bussines.Skulker is one of his close ghost friend <it start off as Vlad getting hunted to be mounted on Skulker abandoned hunter shed Wall but slowly grow into Friendship.Vlad already help him resolve the unfinish bussiness but Skulker just chose to stay around as a ghost caused he enjoy hunting too much> + Like collect shiny artifact and shiny gothic looking thing in general <this is totally caused of Plasmius-the boy been to and raid alots of hidden acient temple as well as vampire castle and fortress> +Have Bad temple <didn’t really show this to outsider, if you are close to him or You frequencely fight him u would know, The Roasted Vampire cult of 2001 know> +Cursed in sweet if there minor around, Cursed like sailor If no children is around. +Consider Resurectioning someone that already pass onto Elsewhereness <Heaven/after life> is Insulting .<He can’t die You can tear him into thousand pieces and he would comeback the next day un-scratched ,which is why He didn’t res Ellie eventhought he know how to do it>. -Got into grudge with Vampire After keep foiling their Plan of resurecting their dark lord Plasmius or messing with their plan of rissing back into power over other mythical Species which latter redirected to wanting his blood caused it extremely poten <being a halfa and have second core being a G0 Vampire> to wanting to capture him and make him open the portal to Unworld +Unworld is where Living Realm, Pugatory <Ghostzone> And Fairy world been banishing evil creature to for thousand of year so there is all sort of inhuman eldritch horror there, and vlad have natural ability to access the place and banish You to this dark realm <Unworld Halfa thing> -At some point he also encounter or know about the existence ofother halfa + Wulf a werewolf halfa <the poor boy die few year after vlad encounter with him but he become a rare kind of ghost that can open gate to Purgatory> +Actual recorded naturally exist halfa in Fenton Cland Grimoire due to naturally open portal. <short lived> +The cult Melty Halfa <imagine the danny clone but created via cultist dark magic method> -vampire and cult attemp to replicated Vlad power didn’t end well +Danielle <Ellie> Master: Lucky survivor of the cult melty halfa, created from Vlad rib and a vampire carrier mother. She lived and travel with Vlad for 9 year before dying to a mysterious illness <what vlad said at least> few month before her tenth birthday. (Vlad could prob go on for hour when you aks about what Ellie is like when she is alive?) -Vlad: The Cost of Being Missed so deeply is the prices for Being Loved so much. <don’t ask, losing bone and organs is regular for Vlad when it come to fighting. After he learn of the crime that is CMH and after Ellie death he Become less reckless and more of a long term planner> *Note from Vlad Journal: Halfa genuinly have very short life spawn as their ghost half tend to over power the living half leading to the death of the creature and instant like Me that perfectly dangling between life and death one does not over power the other is unheard of. <Vlad tell Jack and Maddie to spend more time with their chrildren is caused of this. He assume Danny to be a Short lived Halfa-No he not he is the immortal kind like Vlad> ..................................................... After Ellie pass away, Vlad stop with the Paranormal adventure and traveling or using his power as a whole. To just go low Profile and start as new life as a Freelance Wall Painter. Until by the meedling of a certain “Being” that make Vlad and Danny, those two that never cross path in the original timeline, cross Path . And change both of their life forever. -With Danny fidding some one he can talk ,vent to about life and understand his struggle. Someone who is there for him and just bring so much change to his suffercating life just by existing. -With Vlad finding back his purpose in life, reconnecting with old friend, restarting his old chaotic way of life. +He live with the Fenton now, right next to their bed, at the end of the hall is one of vlad magical pocket dimension coat nail to the wall surrounded and magic circle and candle to act as Vlad room> +Few month After the reveal that Vlad is alive, come to Jack accepting that Danny is a half ghost now and winning back maddie afection after she left caused of a bad fall out regarding Danny getting in trouble caused of Ghost Power.Maddie and Jack start back the whole Paranormal investigation/inventor thing up again .They want to see what inside halfa look like for a very long time but too afraid to ask. And After like week of them just nervously staring at Danny and Vlad. The one day Vlad just have enough go Well I can let you dissect me if You like... They do dissect session with Vlad being full concious to get an insider opinion and Info on Halfa Bio on Halloween night caused the kid would be out trick or treating. . <Fright Knight Version of Para>. And Danny and co just comeback into lab right after the Dissect is over and Jack is Patching Vlad up and just go. -um Uncle Vlad we “brorrow” one of your sword and accidently unleash an acient halloween ghost knight into the town and it now threatening to Take over the town -You Did WHAT? Insert fire/ Pink magical circle and ghost laser here. With Vlad looking like a Bad Vampire mummy halloween costume lying wasted on the street bleeding out surrounded by the Danny gang with the Fright knight barely Escape Vlad "To Unworld You go” Beam fly away sworn revenge <setting up for event that make Danny Pugatory Avatar Halfa becoming the new ghost King > ........................................................................................................................ To Who ever read this entire mess. I Kudo You for putting up with my bullshit.

#DP paranormal AU #Hachi text #laugh #i need to learn how to writte properly #vlad

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adhdeancas · 5 years ago

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Sunset Sound: Made in Heaven

Read Chapter 5 on AO3 here.

“Alright, ladies and gents, let’s do this.” Pamela rubs her hands together. They’re all crowded around a table, having hauled Pamela’s magic crap in. She looks around at them like they’re all gathered around for a campfire ghost story. “So, rumor has it that you can crack into the Empty with an inter-realm spell. So… we need somebody from each of the ball fields: Heaven, Earth, Hell, Purgatory.”

Charlie whistles. “Great. Well, we got the Heaven side covered. Earth is probably next easiest, right?”

“Except we can’t run the risk of Chuck finding out what we’re up to. So, down low. Evasive measures.”

Dean nods at Ash. “Sam’s got a handle on the Earth shit; he’s a little magic freak now. No offense.” he puts a hand on Pamela. She rolls her eyes. “But how do we get a message down to him without setting Chuck off? Not like we can send a halo-ed carrier pigeon.”

They all think on it for a second, till Pamela leans forward. “The veil. If we can contact a ghost, they can haunt Sam and get him the message.”

Charlie raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t ghosts known for being kind of… crazy? Murderous?”

“Huge dicks?” Ash adds helpfully.

Pamela shrugs. “We could find one that’s recently died; there’s the possibility they wouldn’t have turned yet. But we’d have to know who we’re contacting, we can’t just put out a classified.”

Something pings in the back of Dean’s head and he slams his hand on the table. He apologizes quickly because damn near everyone jumps at the noise. “I got it. Kevin. Kevin Tran. He’s in the veil still, and he’s spent a fuckton of time down there, he’d know how to haunt somebody good.”

“And is he going to want to help us?”

Dean frowns at Pamela. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, people don’t usually end well around you, Dean. Case in point,” she motions around the table at all of them. “It’s not your fault but… sometimes there are hard feelings.”

Dean shakes his head. He deserves hard feelings from Kevin, that’s for sure, but the kid’s awesome. Hell, last time he’d seen them he’d been almost happy, even signing up to stay in the veil forever. “Nah, we can trust Kevin. He’s family.”

“Alright. Fire her up then, Pam,” Ash is excited. Pamela shoots him a glare for impatience but she gets her shit together anyway. It’s already set up, all she has to do is ask Dean for a few personal details, chant a bit, and she gets through. “We’re asking for Kevin Tran. Kevin Tran, if you’re out there, Dean Winchester wants a word. Well, a few actually. Kevin, can you hear me?”

The draft spigot turns on by itself, spewing beer onto the floor. “Hey Kev, want a beer?” Dean jumps up and grabs a glass, pumped at the prospect of seeing his friend again.”

“That’s it, Kevin. You’re doing great. Keep trying, keep locking into that.”

The candles on the table go out one by one: apparently, Kevin practicing. Dean holds his breath and shuts off the draft spigot, a glass of beer held out in front of him. “Can ghosts drink? Wait, are you even 21, Kevin?”

“The kid’s dead and you’re gonna huff and puff over the legal age for a Pilsner?” Ash laughs. Dean hands it to him; he has a point. Maybe Jack’s made him a little overprotective of shit like that.

Kevin appears in front of Dean then, hand outstretched to try and take the beer. His sudden appearance makes Dean spill half of it all over himself. “Son of a- hi Kevin!” he offers the beer out again, and this time Kevin takes it and pours it right through his ghostly figure. “Oh… shit.”

Kevin deadpans at him. “Yeah, it sucks. Hi, Dean.”

“How you doing, bud?”

Kevin shrugs and sighs, looking down at himself. “Well, I’m dead. Still. Dean, you wanna explain what I’m doing here first?”

Dean nods, grabbing the beer back from Kevin and setting it on the table. He motions for the kid to turn around toward the table set up with witchy shit. “Kevin, this is Ash, Charlie, and Pamela, the psychic who summoned you.” Pamela and Ash both give a flirty wink, which makes Dean turn about three shades of red in the face.

“Heard a lot, kid.” Ash greets him.

“Yeah, I’ve never heard of any dead guy with such bad luck.” Pamela adds on. And she would know.

Kevin nods with a wry smile. “Yeah, well, that’s just me, I guess. Dead for years, in the veil most of it and hell for the rest.”

“Kev, I’m so sorry-”

Kevin holds up a hand to stave off Dean’s apologies. “It’s not your fault, Dean. It’s Chuck’s. Tell me you got him.”

“That’s what we’re here for, man.”

“Yeah, apparently we’re the Kill God Team now.” Charlie grins and Kevin smiles back.

“Hell fucking yeah. I can get on board with that. Whaddya need me to do?”

They all sit down at the table and map it all out. “We need you to get the plan over to Sam, but we can’t have Chuck finding out about any of it.”

“Yeah, so you need to make sure he knows to keep a low profile.” Dean warns. The last fucking thing in the world they need is to lose the element of surprise. Plus, that would put Sam right in Chuck’s crosshairs, and Dean can’t be there to back him up. He curses himself again for dying.

“What exactly do we mean by low profile?” Charlie asks. “Are we talking cabin in the middle of the woods off-grid kind of low profile or just a Meet the Robinson’s type deal?”

Dean sighs. “Sam needs to stay away from anything Chuck likes to watch.” God, it sounded grimy just saying it. “That means hunting, that means me, that means… Eileen too.”

“Eileen?”

“His girlfriend.” It hurts Dean to think about, but- “Chuck’s used them against each other before; he likes them together. So they gotta stay apart.”

“Shit.” Charlie exhales quietly, and Dean nods. It’s unfair. It sucks. It’s Chuck.

“Tell him to live a normal life. Be as happy as he can. But don’t come looking for me and don’t get interesting. Or Chuck will just fuck with him some more, and if he does that… he’s gonna find out what we’re doing.” Kevin nods seriously. He never gets brought around for fun shit, does he? Dean feels a pang of regret at that. He immediately wants to change it. “But right now, whaddya say we have some fun, huh?”

The table looks at him like he’s gone nutty. He shrugs and grins. “Come on guys, we’re dead. Don’t we all have a night to spare?”

He sees Charlie come around first, slow grin spreading across her face. “Fuck yeah, let’s party, bitches!”

It doesn’t take the rest of them much convincing either. Dean has some good-ass friends. “Yo Kev, since you can’t get fucked up, you wanna play some pool?” Ash hitches his thumb at the table behind him.

Dean laughs. “Ash, you are one cruel son of a bitch. Years of being a friggin’ ghost and you’re gonna whoop him in pool? That’s cold.”

Ash shakes his head. “Nah man, I’ve spent way more time passed out on that table than playing on it. I’d say the kid’s got a fair shot.” Kevin smiles and shrugs at Dean.

“Hey, that’s more than I’ve ever gotten before; I’ll take my chances”

They head off to play and Dean grabs a beer to watch, a good one this time. One with the label he and Sam used to buy, the kind that Cas said “didn’t taste as much like the vast expanse of space dust” as the others. Charlie and Pamela follow with their own.

“So Dean,” Pamela says. “Ash tells me you gotta angel on your shoulder.” She sounds a little weary. Dean figures that’s fair, given her experience with the species.

“Uh… yeah. Castiel.” He gestures to her eyes. “That one.” Pamela shrugs if off.

“So make me like him. Charlie here says you’ve got quite the bond.” Dean blushes pink, but for once there isn’t any innuendo behind her voice. At least, none that is teasing. He looks to Charlie, who makes a ‘I didn’t say anything’ face at him and relaxes a bit.

“Well, uh, he hasn’t burned anymore eyes out,” Dean starts, then reconsiders. “Well, none that didn’t deserve it.” Not really true either. “Well-”

“He’s super cute.” Charlie cuts him off. Dean blushes deeper. “He gave a whole fuck-you to heaven to save Dean.” Dean blushes deeper still. Why does it sound so… intimate when she says it like that? Pamela just raises an eyebrow.

“Sounds like some ally.”

“Cas?” Kevin sinks a ball. The kid’s not bad, actually. Ash was right; they are neck-and-neck. “Yeah, he’s awesome. I mean, weird, but cool.” Dean grins. Weird but cool was exactly Cas.

“Someday, man, I gotta meet this guy.” Ash laments.

“Someday, dude, you will.” Dean vows. Somehow sitting around talking about him with all these guys, he felt confident it was true. “Once we bust him out, you better bet we’re throwing a party and meet-and-greeting everybody.

“I’ll finally get to tease him for the eyes. You think it’d get him better without the fakes?” She pops her fake cloudy eyes out and waggles her eyebrows at Dean, empty eye sockets looking bizarre on such a cheerful face. Dean laughs.

“You’re not gonna need to; he already feels shitty for that. He’ll probably offer to heal ‘em, matter of fact.”

“Well, he won’t get far with that one,” Ash calls over. “Angels been trying to do it for years.” Pamela nods at Dean’s questioning glance.

“Wouldn’t be me without ‘em, now. Who needs sight anyway?”

“Without eyes you won’t be able to see my pretty face!” Dean bullshits.

“Yeah, or your brother’s tight ass. Second thought, remind me when Sam gets up here, won’t ya?” Dean makes a gagging noise and Pamela laughs.

“So you said Chuck’s in your… kid?” Kevin asks skeptically. He misses a shot and Ash hollers. Dean cracks his neck and considers how to answer.

“Kinda. I mean, yeah. Just not- he’s Lucifer and a human’s, technically.” He starts, realizing Kelly’s in heaven too. They’ve gotta let her in on this, but not now. Not now when Chuck!Jack is probably visiting her as her son; it’s too risky. With how sick he feels at the idea of Jack being Chuck’s meatsuit, well…

He sees Cas. Again. Just for a second, there he is standing outside the window, looking less wounded but more tired than before. He looks like he’s focused on something, like he’s scared, but he also looks transfixed, like he can’t look away. As Dean watches, Cas closes his eyes and mouths something. It looks like he’s counting. “One, two, three.” Dean blinks and he’s gone, and Dean’s left wondering if he imagined the whole thing.

“Dean?”

“Yeah.” He smiles at Charlie to let her know he’s okay. Ish. “Sorry, uh, so he’s kind of devilspawn but he’s ours. Mine, Cas’s, Sam’s. Long story. But he’s a good kid.” He nods, knowing he oughta give more information, but not really knowing how.

“Who woulda thought, Dean Winchester, a dad.” Ash ribs with a grin. Dean laughs back and nods. His life hadn’t really screamed stability and mentorhood. His death still didn’t.

“Yeah, I… I haven’t exactly been a star father-figure…” Dean shakes his head. The conflict in his head that culminates in Jack is confusing as hell, but three things win him over. The first is Jack’s innocent, naive face looking up at him for any kind of approval or wisdom. A kid. Just a kid. The second is Cas’s face as he smiles at him that one night over a whiskey glass, the prideful joy as he tells Dean he always believed in Jack. The third is the pit in his gut of all the times he acted like his dad to Jack. And no matter what, Dean can’t leave those memories be. He can’t have Jack remember him like that, and he can’t look Cas in the eye knowing he didn’t do everything he could to make things right. “But that’s gonna change, if it fucking kills me. We gotta save him when we get Chuck, guys, we gotta.”

“We will.” Kevin looks at him with an overly-confident smile. “We can’t lose. You’ve got me, now!”

The rest of them bust out laughing, and Kevin fakes offense. “You’re right, Kev. Don’t know what I’m so worried ‘bout.”

Tag List (ask to be added or removed):

@dochunterwitch @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat @alienapparatus @damian-janus-pendragon

#sunset sound #chapter 6 #made in heaven #deancas #destiel #fanfic #my writing #dean winchester #charlie bradbury #pamela barnes #ash #kevin tran #castiel #jack kline #chuck shurley

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nvcl347 · 5 years ago

Text

G-man x Reader : Retirement

There was nothing left for you but to abide for the visit you were soon going to be paid.

A cry, maybe a whistle. A reach. The spirit mourns in dismay as the flesh is blissful. All is dust which has settled, and the clouds have risen from ashes. Grey of memoir, sparking of grace. Potential, the skies rattled around you. The atmosphere from above howled tears for the times that never were, pouring endlessly yet never droughting to its internal thickets.

Then, a song. A soothing, jovial song, distorted and warped. Although without vocals, it felt as if it had lyrics to be sung once before, shunned and left to rust. The never-ending pounding storm and shrieks of souls around you made it difficult to hear. Despite its faint nature, every instrument, note, and tune could be defined singularly to your ears from the number of times you had heard it over. Its main boastful chorus was that of glamorous trumpets of gold and various luscious woodwinds for their leverage. Occasionally, you heard the ring of a triangle tracing in their footsteps of choir. But most importantly, you heard a ticking. A clock, alike to the orchestra’s pandemonium, counting every beat, the foundation of it all. Time.

Your eyes fluttered in a gentle glow from the iris, peering above and allowing the rain to wash away your sins. Your sockets gaped with liquid, streaking down your cheekbones and draping your clothes into a heavy, wet layer of matter that sank into your skin. The frizz of your hair was soaked within your larger strands of lockets, revealing a perfect tangent of braid. No tangles, no imperfections. Closing your eyes gently, you leaned your chin down to your chest. A wave of harmony flustered through your figure like freshly aged wine, humming perfectly to the note of verses you had overheard for so many generations. Your eyebrows raised forward, following a loosened grip of your two fists. You were satisfied.

This was your home, or rather your permanent retreat from work. Nobody could reach you here, except for those who you once worked for. This was your place of rest for a very long time, but you felt nothing of its confliction on yourself. All was only the now to you, as it always is, was and will be. The description of its nature has the common initial idea that of a dreadful purgatory, but you found no disturbance to this environment. You could cause no harm, and no harm could come to you.

Crashes and dwells of thunder’s might from afar resounded the arrival of another. From the nothingness of floor, a pure white streak of light raised itself into a perfectly aligned doorway. Its bright blinding gleam reflected a large circular radius around its position. It was a doorway you once familiarized yourself with as well, but someone had taken that place from you.

From the gate entered a tall suited figure, whose celestial matter ignored the wet lodging of the storm you touched. His form, silhouetted by the light from behind him as all but a black shadowed outline, became defined as the gateway naturally shut itself from his absence. Nothing was different about him. It was all the same attire he had always worn, except for his tie, which in and of itself was no different from his habits.

As he approached you with a stern gaze of determination, you continued to hum along with the echoing tune in nonchalance to his attendance in your occupancy. Neither of you found a hint of intimidation in each other. One was simply more careless for another’s matters, and that just so happened to be you.

“Apologies on our... eh-employers’ behalf if this environment isn’t of your exact, suitability,” you stuttered with a resolute throat. Your tone was clear to have a venom of sneer laced inside of it in bashful scorn. Well hidden, but blatantly visible to his ears. His nostrils flared, followed by a meager, whisp-like chuckle.

“That is not of my c-oncern. Who is of my concern, however, is you,” the G-man continued to step forward without a trace of hesitation up until you were mere feet apart. Although a little under his shoulders in height, the two of you felt no imbalance in power. Easily as reputable as the scenario was dangerous.

“You need not inform me of their... quarrels. Doctor Freeman, hm?” you inquired an honest yet accurate guess, to which he nodded. Doctor Freeman would have been of your main subjects down your line of duty if not for the act of your resignation and partial fire.

“Doctor Freeman was destined to be an inevitable failure of hire shortly following his success. His prior reputation has been noted to be, s-stubborn. It’s… unfortunate, that our employers had to continue to hold his card,” your teeth grit themselves together at the recollection of arguments you used to embarge on with them. A glisten of light sparked in your eyes ever so briefly, nodding your head. A grudge, G-man noted. A grudge you weren’t willing to let go.

“For all things regarded, I best remind you that your situation is not so, different, from my hire,” he rested his hands against the spine of his back, leaning his neck down as he began to tap his Oxfords lightly against the voided ground.

“You were obstinate and considerably rebellious, but you were weighed by your potential. Not your... be-havioral attributes,” he explained in brief, raising his head above his shoulders as you rolled your eyes.

“Ah, so they saw your loyalty as a benefit?” you retorted aggressively, tearing your scratchy voice down to the wire. You saw the G-man clench at his jaw, irritated, but composed.

“To obtain foreseeable potential is something determined by the characteristics of a subject at large. Dismissing that very attribute is... reckless, and is what pre-cisely forms feuds such as myself aside Doctor, Freeman.” His eyes illuminated in consideration, ultimately ceasing the taps of his footwear. For a few brief moments, thunder ruptured the air once again.

“You suggest… Ms. Vance,” the G-man lowered his head with a twitch to trace in his lips. It was an idea he wasn’t exactly all for in solving the situation.

“She is loyal. She has opportunity. It is not as, reaching, as Doctor Freeman’s, but her faithful service seals a guarantee of a path that Doctor Freeman could not be foreseen to do so without breakneck s-speculation. Ironic that they would see everything in you and nothing in her… you two are not so, different,” a grin flashed across your face in amusement, quickly melting away as you regained your uptight restraint. Your head nudged to the side, taking in a raspy, deep breath as you brushed your dampened shoulders. Suddenly, the rain ceased to affect you any longer. A shudder of warmth coursed into your veins as you raised your head. The G-man’s eyes proceeded to fade from their bright glow, turning to him with furrowed brows.

“That’s enough,” he murmured loud enough for his words to just barely be eligible to you. It was a favor you felt unnecessary, but certainly appreciated. You, unfortunately when circumstances were dire, could not control the environment’s effects on your form.

“They do not deem Ms. Vance of any particular use, beyond assisting Mr. Freeman among other matters of his assign-ments,” he noted, raising his hand in the air and allowing a few droplets of water to make contact with his grey, lifeless palm.

“They do not. If you could con-vince them for her matters at Black Mesa, certainly you should not take an opportunity such as this to, waste. You of all positions… should reconcile with that term of ideology best,” your arms crossed at their sides, gently leaning your head against the blade of your shoulder. You were eager for an understanding that the G-man was refusing to show, but most definitely had.

The G-man lowered his head, a glimmer of white tracing his glare as his hands grazed against one another expectantly. For a few brief moments, some water traced across his suit and soaked into his shoulders as he concentrated on other concerns besides the shield from the rain. His eyelids closed gracefully, nodding his head as his attention turned back to you. His eyes were no longer illuminating as they had presented before. You huffed, shaking your head as your lips curled. You were right.

“S-seems as if you’ll be getting a taste of my own medicine for a while, hm?” you snickered lightly over the idea, raising your head back to the grey-clouded sky above.

“That is so…” he nodded, placing the tips of his fingers against one another. It would be no quandary for him at all, in terms of time. It would go on to feel as if nothing had passed.

“You best be on your way then. We both know there is much to be said and done beyond reunions of old acquaintances,” you waved him off with your chin high. A long gaze was shared collectively between you and the G-man, eyes gleaming subtly in counterpoint to the thunder of the storm above you.

He promptly turned his back to you as the white gaping doorway raised itself behind him. The G-man’s form shifted into silhouette once again almost instantaneously, stepping through to the other side without another word to be exchanged in vocalized terms. The moment the gate slid its last inch into nothingness, the tears of god reigned upon your figure with no draws. The cold rushed into your core, withering it of any warmth the G-man had sustained you with prior. You paused in place, silent and baffled by what had taken place. A smile of victor slowly crept across your profile, laughing out loud in irony. You bashfully sang to the tune of the record from so far away as the rain flooded you to your knees. A loud crackle of joy sparked the atmosphere, reverberating the emotional gust you were experiencing. You were right, and your employers listened to you. Oh what irony, you thought. You weren’t even on the job...

#half life #gman #writing #g-man #gman x reader #x reader #half-life #half life 2 #half life alyx #half life 1

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almaasi · 6 years ago

Text

reaction post typed while watching SPN 15x08 “Our Father, Who Aren’t in Heaven”

THEY JUST. SENT DEAN AND CAS. TO PICK SYMBOLIC “BINDING” FLOWERS ???

06:16pm

probably gonna have to stop in 1 minute for dinner but let’s see what’s happening this week in Mr. Taco/Hotdog Pines For Angel But Isn’t Sure If God Commanded It

06:18

OH YEAH ADAM

forgot about him

06:19

hmm “lucky elephant” casino/bar

1. pink elephants = drunk baby dumbo trippin balls

2. kinda looks like a dick

06:23

the hell is wrong with sam’s face?? he’s looked SO tense and uncomfortable these last episodes

06:24

sam eating salad and eileen eating a burger

given how much food symbolises in this show......i...... kinda wanna say that it means sam sees eileen as a sibling??????? given burgers are bro dean and cas’ thing

either that or she’s one of the family, but then what does it mean about sam’s salad being the odd one out?

....i typed samily there

anyway i wonder if, given how eileen/sam parallels dean/cas, it’s gonna become a thing like “hey eileen i see you as a sibling” vs. dean and cas “cas i love you like a brother” / “BUT DEAN I LOVE YOU IN THE ROMANTIC WAY”

06:27

does dean not know what “achilles heel” means

06:28

why is there porn music playing as cas knocks on a door

is dean gonna be naked on the other side

are they playing babysitter and affronted neighbour housebreaker

.....just saying okay that comedy sting was weirdly placed

06:30

i love that cas is like straight-up Still Here

he was like I’M LEAVING FOREVER and then dean’s like “hey i know i said you ruin everything but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

wish we could’ve had that as an actual scene though

06:37

dean: but cas if u wanna stay here, why don’t you stay here

RUDE

FUCK I HATE THE KNIFE HAND THING

they almost........ touch hand.........

/14 blush emojis

cas uses last of power to make dean feel okie dokie

IS HE GONNA FALL FOR DEAN AGAIN

06:40

welp dinnertime back laterrr

07:50pm

watched the end of “the prince of egypt” and my father (an atheist) was very insistent on proving it factually incorrect while I JUST WANNA WATCH THE ANIMATED MOVIE DUDE

hokay where were we

oh yeah cas was trying really hard not to hold dean’s hand

07:54

team free will enter hell and are attacked by three lady demons

for some reason i’m thinking of cerberus, the three-headed dog who guards the gates of hell

07:55

OMG OMGO OmG OmG ROWENA

DID SHE BECOME QUEEN OF HELL

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YES

THIS IS THE CHARACTER ARC SHE NEEDED

THOSE BRAIDS

07:57

someday i wanna do makeup as well as rowena’s makeup magically manifests. that glitter eyeliner over the black wing is mmmmmmmmmmmm

08:00

ahh bless

a bechdel test pass

it’s been too long

*edit* BUT DID THIS EVEN COUNT??? IF SUE IS NOT SUE

queen of hell suits rowena better than any dress she’s ever worn

so we’ve got rowena as queen of hell, billie as death.... need one more lady in charge of heaven to complete a power trio OH YEAH AMARA. god yes give me that......... pun intended i guess

08:03

rowena after looking at dean and cas for 1 second: “what am i picking up from you two? tell auntie rowena”

ROWENA IS THE BEST I LOVE HER SO MUCH

two grumpy grumble butts: “it’s fine”

WOW

YOU HEARD THE QUEEN OF FUCKING HELL YOU TWO

FIX YOUR DAMN PROBLEMS THIS INSTANT

SAM WHAT TERRIBLE TIMING

jeez they really don’t wanna have that conversation in front of an audience

someday they better get NOT FUCKING INTERRUPTED

knock knock

who’s there

interrupting moose

08:09

adam’s facial expressions look so much like dean’s

08:11

for some reason i was just watching dean say “i didn’t wanna jinx it” and looking at his eyelashes and then involuntarily imagined him wearing rowena’s fake lashes

it was a good look

dean looks so, sooo pretty in this blue shirt

maybe blue for cas’ eyes

08:17

cas says to micheal “your father is certainly not who you knew” but not “our father” as in chuck is no longer his father

“you called me assbutt and set me on fire”

yeah pretty much iconic, no?

oohh jeez poor michael, poor adam

sent to hell, comes back and is aggressively greeted by the same assholes who sent him there

dean put a black armour jacket over his vulnerable blue one to talk to adam

08:32

dean sees cas sitting alone and gets himself a beer without offering one for cas

ohhhh that hurts

/takes screenshots of cas’ side profile

what a good profile

dean’s back in his blue vulnerability shirt

OHHHHHHHHHHHHH SEND DEAN AND CAS BACK TO PURGATORY TO FETCH A FLOWER OF SYMBOLIC “BINDING” YES

FIX THE STORY WITH THEIR LOVE

*edit* ............hey. heyheyheyhey does anyone remember those promo posters from season 8 of dean poking his head out around a tree in purgatory and there was a flower there?? and as far as i know we never actually saw the flower in canon and it was Weird? foRESHADOWING or ?????? hindshadowing?

no michael’s not coming on your gay flower road trip, dean

no third wheel this time thank u

TALK ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS WITHOUT BEING INTERRUPTED PLEASE

michael is literally just....sending dean and cas to pick flowers together

08:41

it’s over

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS 10/10 THAT WAS GREAT

I LOVE THE SETUP FOR WHERE THIS IS GOING

rowena as queen of hell 15/10 best thing that ever happened on this show

adam getting his apology and peaceing out yes good

SENDING DEAN AND CAS TO PICK FLOWERS IN FUCKING PURGATORY THE LAND OF THEIR YEAR OF PINING HELL YES

i love how self-referential this whole story has become and it’s so GOOD to have all these loose ends come back to hopefully be tied up one by one

i just....... i just checked the writer for this episode and i AM AMAZED it’s a deadly duo episode?????????????????????? H O W

bechdel test pass?? holy shit (well...... i doubt this now but still)

only woman who died was lilith and she was awful

unless you count sue but i don’t think sue was real to begin with

and there was a black guy.... with lines.... who didn’t die??? astonishing

also the pacing was like... good or whatever. at least i didn’t think it was patchy like their episodes usually are. and the script wasn’t bland and boring ?? what is happening here

PLUS ROWENA POINTING OUT THAT THERE’S soMethING GoiNg On between dean and cas which draws attention to it for later resolution, despite the audience already knowing they had a tiff

colour me impressed, anyway

#our father who aren't in heaven #spn #spn spoilers #Elmie watches things #post of postiness #season 15 #15x08 #Destiel #Destiel breakup

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arojenniferwalters · 6 years ago

Photo

vampire!Raphael Santiago (David Castro) Shadowhunters 3x17 Heavenly Fire (2019)

Simon Lewis: Where the hell are we?

Raphael Santiago: Not quite hell. More like purgatory. Simon?

Simon: Raphael?

Raphael: What could Simon Lewis possibly have done to end up in here?

Simon: Sh! I need you to call me Zeke. [Zeke?]Yes. I killed an old lady in Queens.[You did what?!] Zeke did. It’s a cover story.

Raphael: So, you chose to come here? -

Simon: Yeah. I’m looking for an angelic blade called Glorious. It’s supposed to be burning with Heavenly Fire. Does that ring any bells?

Raphael: Guards don’t typically share information with their inmates.

Simon: Come on, it’s a giant flaming sword. It has to be pretty hard to miss. What’s happening?

Raphael: Get away from the door. Go!

Helen Blackthorn: Freitag. Elle Freitag.

Elle Freitag: No! No! No! NO! STOP!

Simon: Where are they taking her?

Elle: NO!

Raphael: I don’t know. It happens every few hours. Wherever they’re going they never come back.

IZZY: [Simon?] Simon, are you there?

[Simon: Yeah. And I found Raphael. ]

Izzy: Raphael?

[Simon: He’s OK, but it’s as bad as we thought. They’re taking prisoners one by one, and they never come back. Do you have our location?]

Izzy: (SIGHING) No. Their wards have been reinforced. My Tracking Rune doesn’t work. [Any clue to where you are?]

[Simon: Dark cell. No windows. ]

Izzy: That’s helpful. Look, I’ll try my best to find out who authorized Raphael’s transfer. Hopefully, it could lead me in the right direction.

[Simon: OK. Whatever you do, do it quick. ]

Izzy: I’ll be there as soon as I can.

***

[Aline Penhallow: I was able to access Raphael Santiago’s prisoner profile. His profile has the same prefix as the other Heavenly Fire prisoners, but, weirdly, his transfer request was put in after Raphael arrived at the Gard.

Izzy: Who would be interested in Raphael? Was Jia mentioned in the file?

Aline: No. Of course not. Whoever’s responsible for this is doing it behind my mom’s back.

Izzy: Who else was there when the request was put in?

Aline: (SIGHING) The only person at the Gard with high enough clearance to pull something like this off is

IZZY: Victor Aldertree?]

Helen: Santiago. Raphael Santiago.

Simon: Where are you taking him?

Quiet.

Simon: No. Take me. Please, take me!

Raphael: Stop! It’s my time.

Simon: Raphael, no No! NO!

#raphael santiago

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kyafalcone · 7 years ago

Text

So I wrote a Thing

I blame all the Gamer fics and awesome SIs I’ve read

Congratulations for completing Shinobi Way: Will of Fire Story Mode. Customization is now available.

Would you like to play again?

Y/N?

Finally, she thought. It had taken forever to get through the first game. She died countless times. Always returning to this weird place and screen. She honestly didn’t know how long she had been doing this, ‘playing’ this game. This game that wasn’t really a game. It couldn’t be.

At first she thought she was dreaming or in a coma. Now she had no clue. The best idea she had was that she died. And was now in this limbo place where she died over and over again.

She gave herself one goal after the first ‘game failure,’ get to custom mode. It was a silly kind of goal. She died so often in this weird purgatory. She died as all of the unlocked story characters. And now she could create her own person. She could be who she wanted to be. And after going through the game as shinobi time after time, she hoped to be able to be normal, even in this weird shinobi/game world.

“Let’s play,” she stated to the green text.

Story Characters:

Yamanaka Ino

Uzumaki Naruto

Uchiha Sasuke

Tenten

Rock Lee

Nara Shikamaru

Inuzuka Kiba

Hyūga Neji

Hyūga Hinata

Haruno Sakura

Akimichi Chouji

Aburame Shino

-or-

Custom Mode

Looking at the list, she felt some accomplishment. Team Gai, as they were known in the game, were all unlocked characters she got through getting certain accomplishments. Beating Neji as Hinata in the Chunin Exams. Beating Lee as Sasuke right before the Exams. Turning Sakura, Hinata, and Ino into weapon-mistresses before the Exams.

It all came back to those stupid Exams. The Exams were like the actual start of the game. Everything before is training, the tutorial. It had taken her a lot of starts to figure that out. Since she had just started with the first option she recognized, Naruto. She knew it was a show, a comic book thing. Her cousin watched it and had a lot of the video games based on the show.

Unfortunately, she didn’t know that Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura had some extra hurdles before the Exams. She had originally stuck with those three after the first try. She died a lot. Surprisingly, she finally won the game with Hinata. It was probably just luck, but it was nice to have finally won. And with a female character. She had to get through to the Exams, then the two year span of random missions, then survive the Atatsuki, then figure out the mystery of Madara (which she finally realized changed with each decision she made in the game), then survive the rabbit goddess and aliens.

She sometimes wondered how long she had been here. She had failed before and during the Exams enough times to probably fill several decades. With the two year ‘profession training’ period, that rose even higher. Hell, figuring out Madara probably added decades to the time she spent here.

It felt like eternity.

Which probably explained her theory of this being limbo or purgatory. And her want of the custom mode. Which she had finally gotten.

Custom Mode Engaged

Shinobi Clan or Civilian Clan?

Civilian. It would be easier to be normal as a civilian. No pressure to be a shinobi.

Point Distribution

50 Attribute Points

Strength 0>

Vitality 0>

Dexterity 0>

Intelligence 0>

Wisdom 0>

Charisma 0>

Having played for so long, she already knew what attribute did what. Strength and Vitality made up Health. Intelligence determined chakra. Wisdom: Chakra Control. Dexterity had influence on speed. Finally, Charisma helped with Reputation and purchases.

Naruto had ended up having a bunch of penalties toward Reputation which had made him the hardest to play. She was pretty sure winning with him would be her next goal, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to try it.

Ino and Sakura had ‘fangirl’ statuses at the beginning that hurt their gains and base Intelligence. Hinata did too with her personality status, but that was combatable with the Perks she got when starting. Shikamaru had a ‘lazy’ status that hurt his chakra and physical attributes. Shino had some chakra penalties and charisma penalties too.

It was all maths though. Which was her favorite subject. Even after she had finished school. Sometimes she wished to be able to bring items from play to play. She had worked out all the relationships between attributes and health and chakra once. Only once since all that work disappeared when she got back to this screen.

She had started balancing the attributes early on, keeping them as even as possible. Moving points around so every attribute had 6 was her first move. Now she had 14 points to play with. As she wasn’t planning on being a shinobi, if at all possible, she decided to focus on the attributes that helped dealing with people.

Point Distribution

0 Attribute Points

Strength 6>

Vitality 6>

Dexterity 8>

Intelligence 10>

Wisdom 10>

Charisma 10>

While helpful towards charka, Intelligence also allowed her to learn more and learn faster. Wisdom helped understand what went on around her, and with the idea of going a whole new route, she hoped a higher Wisdom would help. Charisma was pretty straightforward in how it could help. The more people liked her, the better the product she got.

You can now pick 3 status perks.

Chakra Coils – Locked

Chakra Coils – Unlocked

Personality – Quiet and Shy

Personality – Quiet and Solemn

Personality – Shy and Unconfident

Personality – Blunt and Outgoing

Personality – Good Listener

Personality – Bookworm

Personality – Prankster

Personality – Fangirl

Personality – Lazy

Personality – Perverted

Personality - Vain

Body Type – Statuesque

Body Type – Flexible

Body Type – Rock Solid

Body Type – Fleet-Footed

Status – Clan Heir

Status – Genii

Status – Orphan

Other – Kinesthetic Learner

Other – Book Smart

Other – Team Player

Other – Religious

Profession – Chef

Profession – Writer

Profession – Blacksmith

Profession – Store Keep

Profession – Trader

Profession – Artist

Profession – Farmer

Profession – Rancher

She knew some of the statuses from being and meeting other characters. She knew some of the benefits and penalties. Some of them were new to her though. Most of the profession statuses. A few of the personality status were new too. Every ‘heir’ status she had seen was for a shinobi clan, but it always helped with the family ‘business.’ The ‘other’ statuses were usually for experience gain.

The locked coil status would probably help with the civilian goal. Lee had Damaged coils which meant he was more physical than jutsu as a fighter. Locked coils would be her first choice, with heir as the next. That left one more. It would probably be a good idea to pick a profession.

With the attribute points, Blacksmith was probably a bad idea. From Tenten she knew strength was big for that. The only writer she had met was Jiraiya and that wasn’t exactly a good impression. Akimichi were chefs, as were the ramen shop owners (Teuchi and Ayame), so she had some experience with cooking. Artist was kind of what Sai did, though she hadn’t unlocked him, if she could. Sai fought with ink. Traders probably travelled a lot and that wouldn’t be so safe in later years.

That left Store Keep, Farmer, and Rancher. She had done some farm work on D-Rank missions. It wasn’t something she had enjoyed. And while working with animals sounded nice, she didn’t know if she’d be good at it. Store Keep was ambiguous. It could be any type store, even one she had no clues about.

Crap. This wasn’t easy. Maybe she should look at the personality ones. Lazy, Vain, Perverted, and Fangirl were thrown out automatically. Vain was the only one with a benefit and it was only to Charisma, with the penalty going to reputation gain. Prankster wouldn’t really be helpful. Hinata was the Shy and Unconfident and that gave penalties to reputation and charisma. Blunt didn’t seem like a good idea. The Quiets were all negative in reputation gain. That left Good Listener and Bookworm.

From selecting the other statuses, she knew no information would pop up for her to learn about. Best to go with something that seemed obvious. Bookworm sounded the least able to be turned against her. She could be considered nosy with the Listener.

Please stand by while your profile is compiled.

…

Profile Complete

Haruno Kaede

That was… different. She would be related to Sakura in some way. From what she remembered, her chakra control is probably really high with her Wisdom attribute. The chakra penalty would probably be high, but she might still have some to play with if she was lucky.

What the hell did Sakura’s family do?

Game will begin in

3 . . .

2 . . .

1 . . .

0Begin

You have slept in Your Bed.

HP and CP filled to 100%

Familiar with the ‘wake up’ message, she sat up to see where she was. And got a fairly not nice surprise.

She was a boy.

Crap.

Though she probably should have figured since the profile said heir instead of heiress like Ino had and Hinata could get.

She was also younger than what the others started out as, maybe two. Usually she was seven or eight and beginning the Shinobi Academy. She had thought she’d be older with 50 points instead of the total 30 she had in Story Mode. Crap.

Profile, she thought quickly. There was usually some new information in there.

Haruno Kaede

Occupation: (2 Available)

Level: 5 EXP to LV: 00.00%

HP: 90.00 HPR: 2.50/min

CP: 37.50 CPR: 4.38/min

Strength: 6

Vitality: 6

Dexterity: 8

Intelligence: 10 (+2.5) = 12.50

Wisdom: 10 (+2.5) = 12.50

Charisma: 10

(0 Attribute Points Available)

(1 Perk Point)

Haruno Kaede is the eldest of the new generation of Harunos. He is slotted to lead the family business (?) when an adult. Born before the end of the Third Shinobi War, Kaede is one of the few children allowed to grow without shinobi training.

The Third Shinobi War was before any of the timeline she had played. Naruto was born October 10 a year after the war. There was some information she had, if she could remember it all.

Yondaime became the Yellow Flash in the Third War. Kushina was the Jinchūriki for Kyūbi. How much longer until Sakura would be born? A few years?

Why the hell did she have to be in a totally new situation?

What other surprises would Custom Mode have for her?

Shaking herself, she looked back at her stats. She had a Perk Point to play with. And there was also a question mark in the description. That was new-ish. Mentally tapping the question mark, a new screen popped up.

The Haruno Family is a Civilian Clan focused on a specific Profession. You will be in charge of managing all family businesses once Clan Head. Decide what Profession your family follows.

Chefs – Your family is the civilian version of the Akimichi clan. Your family owns several restaurants and bakeries.

Artisans – Your family focuses on art and the various roads an artisan can take. From Architect to Sculptor to Weaver, your family holds them all.

Trade Shop – Your family owns a wide network of shops between villages. Any good can be found in your stores.

Farmers/Ranchers – Your family has owned land since the Founding and used this land to the village’s benefit. From cattle to grain, your family provides a large portion of consumable goods.

None of these would have helped Sakura as a shinobi. Which made sense as a civilian clan. Going from what she read, Chefs and Trade Shop would have a lot of different things to know to run businesses successfully. So would Farmers and Artisans but it sounded like there were specific sections that ran on their own. Artisans honestly sounded the most interesting for her. That decided that then.

Now the perk point.

1 Perk Point Available

Chakra Coils – Unlocked

Personality – Quiet and Shy

Personality – Quiet and Solemn

Personality – Good Listener

Personality – Lazy

Status – Genii

Other – Team Player

Other – Religious

Other - Artistic

Genii would give Intelligence and Wisdom points. Team Player was similar to Kiba’s Pack Member so ally EXP seemed likely. In all honesty, the Artistic perk seemed the best for her now.

Artistic

+25% EXP gain towards [Arts], +0.5 to Intelligence per LV, +10% to Wisdom, Adds Creativity to Attributes, +0.5 to Creativity per LV

Well that sounded helpful. Though having a new attribute to manage would be interesting. Hopefully the 10 points a level kept so she had more than usual to play with. The new attribute would help with her family profession though. That decided that then.

Looking back through her profile, she spotted the blank Occupation. Something else to look at.

Available Occupations:

Toddler (+50% EXP gain)

Family Heir (+25% Reputation gain with other Heirs)

Huh. The Toddler would probably leave after she grew, but it would help for the moment. Getting a higher level would be nice. Now her profile looked complete.

Haruno Kaede

Occupation: Toddler (+50% EXP gain)

Level: 5 EXP to LV: 00.00%

HP: 90.00 HPR: 2.50/min

CP: 45.00 CPR: 4.63/min

Strength: 6

Vitality: 6

Dexterity: 8

Intelligence: 10 (+5) = 15.00

Wisdom: 10 (+3.5) = 13.50

Charisma: 10

Creativity: 6 (+2.5) = 8.50

(0 Attribute Points Available)

(0 Perk Points)

Status: [Locked Chakra Coils] -90% Chakra, Civilian; [Bookworm] +50% EXP gain from Skill Books, +0.5 to Wisdom per LV, +0.5 to Intelligence per LV; [Haruno Heir] +25% EXP gain towards [Haruno Art Practices], +25% EXP gain towards [Arts]; [Artistic] +25% EXP gain towards [Arts], +0.5 to Intelligence per LV, +10% to Wisdom, Adds Creativity to Attributes

Haruno Kaede is the eldest of the new generation of Harunos. He is slotted to lead the family business of Artistry when an adult. Born before the end of the Third Shinobi War, Kaede is one of the few children allowed to grow without shinobi training.

It certainly looked good for a toddler’s profile. Level 5 at just one or two. She still had a bunch of questions about her new situation though.

#writing #naruto fics #self insert #wtf #what did I do

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earpdearp · 8 years ago

Text

just the worst™

Wherein Waverly loses her cool when Shorty’s is sold and makes an irrationally rational decision for once. Nicole is mostly confused/caught in the cross-fire.

Borrows conversations from mid-1x09 as a canon-adjacent catalyst to bridge my series “just friends” and “not just friends” together.

Dedicated to user @korderoo for giving me the idea. The straw that broke the camel’s back, as it were.

Also on AO3. Approximately 5,518 words.

Other WayHaught “just friends” fics in this series: just another tuesday | just coffee | just blowing off steam | just the beginning

He showed up at Shorty’s wearing an ill-fitting gray suit with a red tie, a sheaf of paperwork in one hand and briefcase in the other. Normally, Waverly Earp would pay a guy like that little mind. But this gentleman didn’t come into Shorty’s for a drink: he came asking after Gus MacCready.

That set off warning bells for Waverly.

This wasn’t the first time Waverly had seen him. In fact, he’d returned several times in the past few weeks. A nagging worry had started to fester at the back of Waverly’s mind.

The next red flag was how attentive Gus had been to what he had to say. Hours a day were spent sifting through documentation, only to return with more papers a few days later. They typically pored over his paperwork on the upper level table, usually just out of earshot at the bar.

What Waverly did manage to overhear, especially today, set her heart racing. And not in a good way.

“…is this what we agreed on?” Aunt Gus asked, eyes narrowing at the young man.

“To the letter,” he said with a lopsided grin.

Topping off the beer she’d been pouring for Pete, Waverly shot the customer a hurried smile. “There you go,” she muttered and started to turn away to resume her eavesdropping.

“I heard about you and Champ, by the way,” Pete said shyly, sweeping off the brim of his tan flat cap and running fingers over a short crop of hair.

Uh huh, she thought disinterestedly. Waverly affixed a kind smile to her cheeks but avoided eye contact with Pete. She strained to hear what Gus and That Guy were saying, but she could only make out flipping pages and a clicking pen.

“He never treated you right, Waverly,” Pete said. She waved off the comment, mostly because it wasn’t entirely true. But the thought agitated her more than she already was.

Champ wasn’t a bad boyfriend. Or a bad guy. He’s just… not what I’m looking for. Or what I need.

Pete continued, a smile turning the edges of his scruffy cheeks. “I was thinking, you know, any man in Purgatory would be lucky to have you…”

Inwardly groaning, Waverly stopped herself short of scoffing, “But would I be lucky to have them?”

Rolling his thumbs around that mug of beer, Pete’s eyes didn’t quite meeting Waverly’s. “And I was also thinking that—“

Oh God. No no no no no no no.

Eyes widening, Waverly leapt in to cut off his train of thought. “—that you should find a gal like me, only taller, right? So she can actually get up in that custom-lifted, tricked-out pickup of yours?” She nodded at him significantly, praying Pete would get the hint.

Thankfully, Pete took the out rather than the impending bruise to his ego. His grin was a little pained, but he agreed, “Uh, yea. Yea, exactly.” Pausing for a beat, Pete then asked, “…is Wynonna… still around?”

Waverly made an exhale-sound in disgust and shot him a withering glare. She shooed him away from the counter with her bar towel, where he joined his brother at the pool table. There was a lull before the boys started chuckling among themselves and threw looks behind them at Waverly. She glared daggers back and made a swiping motion across her throat while smugly mouthing, “Ha ha you’re cut off.” That shut them up with an expletive before they racked a new game of pool.

Ugh. Men are all the same.

Sighing, Waverly scrubbed at a pair of clean mugs from the dishwasher below the bar. She went back to staring despondently at Gus near the front of the saloon. The older woman was still flipping through a stack of papers, hand at her chin, eyes probing every line of print. A pen rolled on her knuckles, poised and ready.

Just as that pen clicked one final time, Waverly straightened and announced, “I’m gonna take my break now!”

Her aunt only nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes focused on the documents in front of her.

That little brush-off grated on Waverly. She resisted the urge to huff as she gathered up her blue coat and brown purse to head for the door. A chill Purgatory wind stung Waverly’s cheeks as she stepped outside.

But Waverly just couldn’t stay and watch. She knew what was coming. The thing Waverly had been low-key dreading for weeks had arrived, complete with that rumpled gray suit and red tie.

Today was the day: Gus was selling Shorty’s.

“What the frick is going on today?” Waverly asked no one in particular as she stalked down the street, clutching her elbows to brace against the cold.

This whole day had felt off since she’d rolled out of bed this morning.

Even though there had been a lull in BBD cases lately, Wynonna was a scarce sight at the Homestead. So was Doc. Dolls was… Dolls.

And Nicole…

Waverly scowled as she checked her phone. No new SnapChats or text messages. Same as yesterday.

Things were weird with Nicole since Waverly had sent that text after watching the sunrise. It was like they forgot how to be friends.

It was all Waverly’s fault, too. She’d messed things up… crossed the line.

[“It was worth the trip”]

[“So are you”] …stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

Plus, the last time they’d bumped into each other outside the station had been a disaster. First they’d actually physically bumped into each other (via hard shoulder-check), then it was a race to see who could apologize first, then a lot of shy ground-kicking and “So…”

Pulling the brim down on her Stetson slightly, Nicole had asked, “So… how’s Wynonna?”

“She’s… Wynonna,” Waverly had replied simply. “So—uh—how’s… Calamity Jane?”

“She’s good.”

“Good.”

(Un)fortunately, Lonnie had knocked on the window to summon Nicole inside, so the women managed to part ways with just awkward smiles. And since then, Waverly had started about a dozen texts but deleted every single one. Which dragged out the weirdness further.

Ugh.

What am I gonna do? How do I fix this? How do I make things go back to normal again?

…what the heck would Normal even be?

As she rounded the street corner, Waverly halted dead in her tracks. Because at the next block over, Waverly spotted a familiar, uniformed profile complete with a white Stetson.

Oh you’ve got to be frickin’ kidding me.

Bathed in the flashing lights of her police cruiser, Officer Nicole Haught was indeed standing at the corner. She had her metal clipboard in hand and appeared to be giving a ticket to two college-age blonde girls.

As Waverly approached, she tried to blend in with some storefront awnings. The diner was just up the street and if Waverly could just get some food in her belly, maybe she could come up with a plan to—

“Hey! Wave!”

Frick.

Just on the other side of the street now, Nicole gave a broad smile and a gloved wave. Her motorists had briefly returned to their car to dig out purses and insurance information.

Sighing in resignation as she crossed the street, Waverly managed to step in a freezing puddle. She swore under her breath as the icy water seeped through a sock, soaking her toes. The low-key frustration at the base of her skull started to throb.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Nicole grimaced in empathy when she heard the splash. “Oh shoot, you okay? Sorry, I just wanted to say hey. I—I haven’t seen you in awhile, so…” She trailed off, her dimpled smile soft and sweet.

“Yea, it’s fine,” Waverly said, a little more sharply than she intended. When Nicole shrank back, Waverly gave a tight smile. “Sorry. Today just—today just sucks.” She stamped on her damp foot a little, feeling her sock bunch between her toes uncomfortably.

Ugh.

Tilting her head in sympathy, Nicole started, “I’m sorry to hear that. I tried texting you, but I wasn’t sure if—“

“Yea, me too,” Waverly rushed in with a bashful smile. “I keep just—and then just don’t know what to—“

A sing-sing voice interrupted the woman. “Yoohoo! Officer… Hoht?”

Both women turned at the same time to see the pair of blondes bounding back from their SUV, red passports in hand. They were practicing rolling Nicole’s unfamiliar last name in a foreign tongue. “Europeiska Unionen Sverige” was stamped in gold lettering on those red booklets.

Swedish?

“It’s Haught, ma’am,” Nicole corrected politely. She opened her hand to accept the pair of passports.

“Haaaaw-tuh,” one enunciated slowly. The other giggled, long eyelashes batting over heavily eye-shadowed blue eyes.

Nicole muttered under her breath just loud enough for Waverly to hear, “…Close enough.” She shot Waverly a wink as she continued writing on her metal clipboard.

Left Blonde twirled her scarf around her finger. “Will this be taking long time, Officer Hawwwt? We were wanting to see the Mount Rushmore today.”

Waverly chimed in with a wincing smile. “You’re off by a few hundred miles and a couple states.” She pointed to the southeast. “You want I-90. You’re on I-80.”

An argument started in Swedish, both women angrily slapping at each other’s elbows and shoulders for a few seconds. They also pulled phones from pockets to consult their maps. Waverly and Nicole just exchanged confused (but bemused) glances.

The Right Blonde then shushed the Left and gave a shy smile to Nicole. “You give us directions, maybe? Put us on right road?”

“Uh, sure…” Nicole replied, baffled but cordial. “After we discuss that illegal left turn y’all made. And you were going 22 miles above the posted speed limit.” She waved the ticket pad at them before returning Right Blonde’s passport.

“Is just mistake. Not happen again,” Left Blonde promised.

Right Blonde jumped in, her hand brushing down the elbow of Nicole’s coat (which Nicole pulled away from). “You doing things later, Officer Hawwwt? You ever see the Mount Rushmore? Want to be joining us?” Her tone was low, enticing, flirty. Left Blonde nodded in emphatic agreement.

Ughhh. They… are the worst.

Feeling like she was in the way, Waverly started to take a few cautious steps back. Her cold foot made a squishing sound, which turned Nicole’s head. The woman gave Waverly a panicked frown, but for just a second Waverly thought she saw a fond uptilt to Nicole’s lips. Which sent a surge of something through Waverly’s chest, briefly overriding that throbbing frustration.

Right at that moment, the radio on Nicole’s shoulder sounded off with a crackle of static. [“Haught, do you copy?”] A male voice.

The Velcro made a soft ripping sound as Nicole pulled the radio to her mouth and clicked the call button. “This is Haught finishing an 11-95 on Cooper. Go ahead.” She slapped the radio back on her shoulder and continued writing on her ticket pad.

The male dispatcher continued. [“Haught, return to the station when you finish that 11-95.”]

Scowling, Nicole leaned into her radio. “Copy that. …is something wrong?”

[“Nedley wants your ass on desk duty.”] The dispatcher sounded apologetic. [“Something about how you’re the only one who gets shit done around here.”] There was brief, muffled outrage/agreement on the other end of the radio.

“Again?!“ Nicole grumbled under her breath before clicking the button one last time. “10-4, on my way. Haught out.”

The two Swedish women groaned, first at being denied an “escort” and second at the ticket Nicole handed back along with the remaining passport. They attempted to salvage their disappointment by taking selfies with “a real police” and asking for Nicole’s number, which the woman declined (after shooting another panicked look at Waverly).

This whole exchange was… annoying to Waverly. And not just because she seemed invisible. Backing away slowly the way she came, Waverly smiled awkwardly. “Sorry, I’m keeping you from doing your job. I should—I’ll just go.” She resisted the urge to add an unnecessarily snarky “Have fun” under her breath.

Nicole’s frown was apologetic. “Waverly…” She looked like she wanted to say more.

But Waverly had already turned and ran back across the street. Giving up on the diner, Waverly stomped back to Shorty’s (though she took the long way back, weaving through alleys). At least the walk might give her a chance to maybe clear her head. Minus the fact her boots squished every other step.

She didn’t quite know why she was so irritated, but Waverly’s blood was downright boiling as she strode through “downtown” Purgatory. Running into Nicole used to be such a lovely surprise. But that…

…That was such a stupid thing to be mad about. And what was there even to be mad about? Nothing even happened.

Ugh.

Maybe because Nicole was working and Waverly felt like she was in the way? But Nicole had called her over. If she was such a bother, why would Nicole go out of her way to talk to her?

She was missing something and that angered Waverly even more. It felt obvious but just out of reach. She wanted to talk to someone about it.

But Wynonna wasn’t around and… the only other person she wanted to talk to was… Nicole.

Ugh… How do I fix this? How do I make things go back to normal again?

…what would normal even be for us?

…Us…

Gus was shaking hands with the Gray Suit when Waverly returned to Shorty’s. File folders slapped closed, keys were waved about, and polite laughter drifted through the saloon.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. MacCready,” the man said before leaving. His eyes gave a worried sweep of the bar but when he didn’t find what he was looking for, he smiled in relief. Briefcase snapping shut, Gray Suit held the case to his chest protectively as he ventured out those heavy double doors.

Waverly stalked over to Gus. “So you just did it? You just went ahead and sold it,” she said accusingly.

Her Aunt’s gaze was hard. “Decisions had to be made.” Gus flipped back through her paperwork, blue pen bouncing between index and middle fingers. “I know you don’t believe me, but you were not born to be a Goddamn small-town waitress.”

That softened Waverly some. “Yea, I believe you...” Resentment and worry still burned in the back of her mind. She latched on to her outrage. “But I have, like, three shirts that say Shorty’s.”

It didn’t come out quite as biting as Waverly had hoped.

Gus smirked back. “Honey, it’s in the agreement: Shorty’s will never get torn down. You can work here in as many shirts as you want for as long as you want.” Her dark eyes flicked over Waverly in a quick once over, a mixture of warmth and disapproval.

Waverly tried to interject. “That’s not the point!”

“Things change, kid. I never thought I’d be the one makin’ this decision, but I made it all the same.” Gus tapped the heavy file folder on the edge of the counter to evenly align the batch of papers. “It’s past time I moved on from this town. Enjoy my retirement.” Her slanted smile was sad with apology. “I got an offer on the farm, too. From a nice family from Shelby.”

Sputtering, Waverly slammed her palms on the counter. “What?! You’re—you’re leaving?! And you didn’t—why didn’t—I didn’t know!” She could feel her pulse quicken, blood pounding in her ears.

“Cuz I didn’t want you to fret, Waverly. My sister’s got a spare room since her boy went away to college. It’s time I reconnect with my old life. Just like you’re doing with Wynonna,” she said with a significant nod. “Not all change is bad, honey. It just is. And it’s up to you to make the most of it.”

Waverly flopped her head down on the counter, long hair covering her face. The wood counter was cool on her forehead as she groaned into the surface. “I can’t believe this. This is the frickin’ worst.” She looked up through her curtain of brown strands. “I’m gonna miss you so much,” Waverly said, her voice small as her breath puffed against those hairs.

Her Aunt smiled and reached over. A soft, wrinkled hand parted the hair over Waverly’s forehead so her face was visible again. Gus stroked her hair for another second before laying the file folder back on the bar (the air tickling Waverly’s cheek in its wake).

“You too, kid. But when you decide you’re ready to unstick those wings of yours…” Gus trailed off as she reached into her back pocket. Unfolding a small crisp paper, she offered it to Waverly. “…Don’t cash it for a week or so.”

Lifting her head, Waverly took the thin paper and examined it before she asked, “What’s this?”

It was a check. And there were… a lot of zeroes at the end of that check.

What. The. Frick.

Leaning over the end of the bar, Gus patted Waverly’s elbow with a smile. “It’s freedom, honey!” She gave the check a joyful flick and shook her head in amusement. “You’ve been doing what others want you to do for so long. Now you can do whatever it is you want.”

It should have been touching. Wonderful. Liberating.

But instead Waverly felt… empty. Lost. Alone.

She held in her hands the answer to so many questions… except she couldn’t remember what the question was that this was an answer to. She felt a heat in her eyes.

“…which is what?” Waverly retorted despondently.

A soft, sage smile. “Live your life,” Gus said. “Remember: some of the best things in life are the surprises it throws at us. About what we want.” She paused to give Waverly a lingering look before winking. “Who we want.”

That caught in Waverly’s throat. She could only stare back, confused.

“You’ve always been an honest kid.” Patting her elbow again, Gus leaned in drop a kiss on Waverly’s cheek. “Don’t stop now.”

Gus scooped up her file of papers and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Waverly alone at the bar holding a small fortune in her hands (and more questions than answers).

The Purgatory Reservoir stretched out before Waverly, the water’s gentle ripples reflecting a cloudy afternoon sky. With a line of snowy Jeep tracks leading to her hidden alcove, Waverly’s Spot was just as quiet as always. Sipping on her second (third?) espresso, Waverly licked her lips against the cinnamon flavoring and stared out at the horizon.

She’d gone home to change out of her Shorty’s getup, and not just for a dry pair of socks. Even in her favorite white wool sweater with a coffee in hand, Waverly still felt cold. There was nervous energy in her chest that sent little shivers through her shoulders and collarbone.

What the frick is going on today??

Everything felt so… empty. This place, Waverly’s safe place against everything crazy with Purgatory… it didn’t seem so magical. The Reservoir was just a dingy, fake lake chiseled out of rock.

The last time she’d been here, she’d brought Nicole. It had been… something. Something bigger. Now it was back to being small and lonely.

Waverly folded and unfolded that check. The same line of zeroes was still there. A small fortune wrapped up in a such a small piece of paper.

It was funny: when Wynonna had first showed up, she offered to hock Peacemaker so the Earp sisters could go abroad and leave Purgatory behind for good. Now, Waverly had the money to do that twice over.

But things were different from then in so many ways. Wynonna had embraced being the Heir. Breaking the Earp Curse didn’t seem like so lofty a pipedream, but an actual possibility. And Waverly… she was helping. All those years poured into research and history and language was finally getting put to use.

The nervous energy in Waverly’s chest dredged up an old hurt for a moment and she let it roll through her.

Wynonna. Sweet, older sister. The protective one. The strong one. …And the screw-up who’d left Waverly behind.

Waverly, who stayed. Waverly, who dedicated her life to breaking the Earp Curse. Waverly… who couldn’t break the Goddamn curse.

And Wynonna, who just waltzed back into town on raw, God-given talent and the only one who knew where Peacemaker had been hidden. It had hurt to be left out, to be the only one who took things seriously, to yet again be Not Enough as an Earp.

That stupid Revenant hadn’t been wrong: Waverly was envious—jealous—of Wynonna. And while she was proud that her sister was finally taking it all seriously finally, a small part of Waverly was still resentful. It was a slow burn of forgiveness that was rooted in long-time little sister spite. But even Waverly could admit her big sister had grown into the role and—through trial by fire and then some—was equal to the task.

So, they couldn’t just up and leave Purgatory. Not after they’d worked so hard and come together as a team. As a family.

“It’s freedom, honey!” Gus has said.

Why didn’t it feel like freedom?

Waverly could go for a Master’s degree at a decent university. Or go to Japan or the ocean or at the very least just leave Purgatory for the first time in her life. Anything she ever wanted, she could go do. Right now, if she wanted.

But… why didn’t any of those things sound good?

Slouching back into her seat with an annoyed sigh, Waverly took a deep sip of her coffee. She played with the ends of her scarf, her gaze drifting back to the passenger seat.

Nicole.

The image of the woman watching the sunrise with such awe and wonder was burned into Waverly’s memory. Her red hair tousled from sleep, bundled in Waverly’s blanket, hands politely folded around the coffee that Waverly had carefully made for her at four in the morning.

For some reason, Nicole tended to linger in Waverly’s head. For minutes, hours, days after they spent time together. They’d talked for less than a minute on the street earlier, yet Waverly still remembered the earrings she’d been wearing (round gold studs) and the smell of vanilla.

That warm flutter around Waverly’s shoulders calmed for a moment, until the voice of those two Swedish girls returned in her mind. Then a scowl darkened Waverly’s face, the agitation quickening her blood.

She resented those women’s confidence and brashness. They didn’t care what anyone thought. Just aimlessly wandered around the Northwest in an SUV without a care in the world. No plan, no nothing. They just went out and did whatever they wanted. Including…

“You doing things later, Officer Hawwwt? Want to be joining us?”

They just—they just asked. They didn’t need to go to JD’s and plan out what they were gonna say. They didn’t need days of psyching themselves up to plan a stupid sunrise (probably). But there it was: envy. Envy for a whole wide world of people doing things Waverly couldn’t/wouldn’t/didn’t/hadn’t.

Waverly’s thumb wandered to her own phone, her message history with Nicole depressingly quiet.

It was a shitty thing to be resentful about, she realized. Because she was basically mad at herself for not taking action. She’d always just let things happen to her. Let Champ Hardy ask her out. Let Wynonna take charge of the Curse. Let herself be a Goddamn small-town waitress instead of—what?

“You’ve been doing what others want you to do for so long. Now you can do whatever it is you want.”

“…which is what?”

“Live your life.”

Okay, Waverly thought with a long, slow breath. She tried to center herself like she did in yoga. Focused on breathing, let the outside world fade away, just her and the next breath.

What do I want? If I could want anything? Right here and now?

A bunch of thoughts trickled in. Glimpses of things she’d seen on YouTube or read about, secret passages of her diary… Swimming in the ocean or the wind on her face with the world below.

Pretty scary. But… lacking somehow now.

Maybe because… she could do those whenever she wanted? There was no urgency, no risk attached anymore. A good plan would take care of any of those little bucket-list things (now that she had the money).

Okay. What else?

“Remember: some of the best things in life are the surprises it throws at us. About what we want. Who we want.”

Her fingers felt around in her purse and found a small piece of paper. Not the check Aunt Gus had given her. This paper was thicker, smaller, lined with creases where it had been folded and unfolded over and over again. The pad of her index finger traced the embossing and Waverly didn’t even need to open her eyes it to know what it said.

“Officer Nicole Haught, Purgatory Sheriff’s Department.”

Inhaling a shuddering breath, Waverly let it out slowly. That jangling feeling in her chest started again, pushing her to stop hiding and put into words this tightly coiled anxiety she’d been holding on to for so long.

That tight feeling had come so close to being free, weeks ago. On that afternoon when Waverly had run into Nicole on the street.

“I kind of just discovered it,” Waverly had said, out loud, finally. The courage to put to words had been on the tip of her tongue, a short lifetime of restrained almosts laid bare. Except it had gone horribly wrong, dismissed by a distracted Nicole. The woman had apologized later, but not before Waverly had boxed that thought back up again and put it back on the shelf. To be dealt with later.

With another shaky inhale, Waverly pulled that thought close again, hugged it to her. And when she exhaled, she finally—finally—let it go.

Waverly liked Nicole. A lot. A lot, a lot.

Not as friends.

“Friends” don’t wonder what the other one is doing all hours of the day (and night).

“Friends” don’t get goosebumps when the other touches them.

“Friends” don’t wish the other would look at her the way Nicole did, like she saw inside her (and what’s more: liked what she saw).

She wanted Nicole. Wanted her, wanted her.

She wanted to know the things that made Nicole laugh—that sweet, deep, melodic laugh.

She wanted to know what Nicole was thinking when she chewed her cheek or licked her lips that certain way.

She wanted to know what Nicole felt like. Smelled like. Tasted like.

Eyes shooting open, Waverly let out another long breath. That feeling in her chest… it loosened. Like she was lighter. Relieved, even.

Okay.

She needed talk to Nicole. Make a plan. Tell her—tell her Waverly liked her. And maybe… they could start over?

…But what if she said no?

Nicole had already gotten hurt—almost died—before. If she stuck around, Nicole could get hurt again, maybe worse. The Earp Curse was kind of a big secret to keep/problem to deal with. Maybe… maybe it’s better if Waverly didn’t say anything?

“You’ve always been an honest kid.”

She knew she was looking for an excuse to bail. She scowled at herself, at how scared she was. How close she was to chickening out already.

Oh God what if Nicole said no?

…Oh God what if Nicole said yes?

That was the real question she was afraid of. If it was a No, she could just put that thought back on its shelf. Easy. Simple. Safe. Waverly knew what that life was like (since she was basically living it right now, so no surprises there).

But a Yes… that was Big. All those exciting Firsts wrapped in all those potential mistakes. All Waverly’s Earp baggage laid bare along with all of Nicole’s. And all that terrifying Unknown made less scary knowing there was someone to share it all with.

Shifting her Jeep into reverse, Waverly made a two-point turn before heading back up the trail back to Purgatory. She downed the rest of her coffee in one big swallow, drumming her fingers on her steering wheel.

Okay. What’s the plan?

Okay. First go to the station and find Nicole. Obviously.

What if she’s not there? Do I text her? Meet her somewhere?

Waverly had to chew her cheek a moment before remembering: Nicole is on desk duty. She should be at the station.

Okay. What about anyone else?

She glanced the clock on her dashboard: 4:15 PM.

Okay. Nedley should be at Shorty’s and if Nicole is on desk, that puts Lonnie out on patrol. And no Dolls or Wynonna at BBD to bug me.

Okay. Nicole should be alone at the station. Then what?

“Live your life.”

Striding up those steps, Waverly headed straight for the Sheriff’s Department on pure instinct. Her heart was hammering in her throat. And her plan was total shit.

Waverly still hadn’t thought of something good to say other than just blurting out “I like you, Nicole” in the middle of the station. She was breathing through her nose, dangling earrings tickling Waverly’s cheeks from her fast gait. She was nervous and agitated from all that damn espresso, too. It was hard to keep a thought still in her head.

When she reached a familiar hallway, Waverly hung back just outside the station. She saw the back of an older woman at the police desk. Dolores, Judge Cryderman’s secretary, was doing some admin work. Waverly waited for the woman to leave before approaching.

Eyes skimming the station, Waverly felt an equal mixture of relief and anxiety to see the place was empty. Just like she’d hoped/dreaded.

Nicole Haught sat at the desk, pen scratching over a form. Her brow was knit in focus.

“Hey, Nedley out for dinner?” Waverly asked in a rush, barely able to make eye contact.

Head jerking up, Nicole’s eyes crinkled when she saw Waverly. The woman tilted her head with a deadpan reply. “You mean ‘happy hour at Shorty’s?’”

Waverly mumbled a “yea” as she looked over at Nedley’s blessedly empty office.

Perfect.

Nicole gave a small nod as she sat back in her chair, dropping the pen on her form. “Same time every day, kinda like clockwork. Do you need h—?”

That nod was all Waverly needed. She pushed through the wooden divider, past Nicole and into the Sheriff’s office. Setting her purse down on the desk, Waverly gave the office a fraction of a second once-over before heading for the window blinds that looked out into the bullpen.

“Hey! Wave!”

Nicole’s confused shout behind Waverly made her move faster. She tugged on the cords in rapid succession, the wooden slats angling closed on one, then another, then the third window. Standing in the doorway was a very confused Nicole, who again offered a soft “Hey?”

Nudging the taller woman aside, Waverly offered a gruff “excuse me” as she edged the door closed with a gentle slam. She looked out the office door one last time, but there was no one around.

Oh God.

When Waverly turned, Nicole snapped, “What is your problem?? I don’t understand why you—!“

That almost—almost—stopped Waverly. But she had already pushed forward, letting instinct and her pounding heartbeat lead. She was too close to stop now. She had to know.

Waverly had done the only thing that came to mind: she lunged forward and just kissed Nicole. She was just so tall. And when Waverly felt some resistance, she almost let go (but she had too much momentum propelling her forward).

But then… Nicole’s hands clamped down over hers. And not to push Waverly’s hands away, either. They held tight to Waverly’s wrists, one near Nicole’s neck and the other on her waist. Nicole held on, but the balance had already been upset and they were falling backward.

Luckily, Nicole somehow had the ability to maneuver them around the corner to the couch. And there… it continued for a moment. Held fast. Just like Waverly had hoped and feared and everything in between as they kissed.

Oh God, she was so soft and sweet yet firm and strong and—oh! Nicole tasted every bit as good as she smelled. Her head tilted in just the right ways, pushing and pulling against Waverly’s tongue with a gasp. When Waverly felt Nicole pull back from underneath her(!), she finally broke contact. Her heart still fluttered in her chest, but from happiness this time.

“It’s freedom, honey!”

While the last thing Waverly had seen before she shut her eyes tight was irritation on Nicole’s face, now that woman beamed back at Waverly with impossible joy. The light from the outside window shone almost like a halo on Nicole’s head.

All Waverly saw now were dimples and glowing skin and warm brown eyes and Nicole was just beautiful and Waverly’s voice caught in her throat.

Laughing lightly, Nicole’s question was laced with breathless amusement:

“What happened to ‘friends?’”

#wynonna earp #waverly earp #nicole haught #wayhaught #fanfic #wynonna earp fanfic #fluff #gap filler #dorks in love #canon adjacent #1x09 #just friends #gus maccready #shorty's #mutual pining #first kiss #not just friends anymore

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